One of my favorite days of the year occurs in mid-February, when pitchers and catchers report for their first day of work at spring training.

James Hassell

This year, the first day of spring training not only served to clear away some of my winter doldrums, but also lined up nicely with the start of the college baseball season at Angelo State University. In fact, such an alignment of events even turned out to be like one of those supernatural-double-portion miracles I hear about from our televangelist brethren. I obtained my double-portion miracle for the grand total of $40, the cost of a baseball season pass—not a bad harvest for a few dollars of seed money.

Now, let me tell you about the miracle.

I took in an early season baseball game at ASU on a dreary day, complete with a 36-degree wind chill while simultaneously watching spring training news on my phone. I could not have been warmer, though, even if it took some skill to eat popcorn with gloves. Among the smattering of shivering people in a small but enthusiastic crowd, I noticed a man with booming voice who cheered for the visiting team. When the crowd argued a particularly bad call, this man even yelled an encouragement to the umpire.

Variety of response

The man with the booming voice certainly knew how to cheer for his team, and it soon became apparent that hometown fans noticed him. Some stared. Others performed the patented over-the-shoulder glare that unruly children can receive in church. Most others just ignored him.

I tried my best simply to tune him out, and my brain’s sarcastic voice internally declared, “There’s one in every crowd.” Interestingly, the Spirit’s voice also spoke to my heart in that moment. And thus the miraculous moment occurred.

The Spirit took me on a journey back through some interesting situations in church life when brothers and sisters in Christ resembled the man with the booming voice. These were folks who seemed to cheer for the other team.

The one in that crowd

In fact, I remember one man in particular who rather regularly could be counted upon to cast a “no” vote in about every church business meeting. This man was a little different than other folks who typically vote against everything. He usually told me—and others—his reasoning after much contemplation and prayer. I had no reason to think he was in the church to cause trouble, because he was a respected member and got on well with most folks, including me. He simply spoke up and voted his conscience.

Yet when he would speak his mind, some others stared at him, glared over the shoulder or just ignored him. It’s interesting and difficult when a church body simultaneously grumbles, “There’s one in every crowd.”

Conscience & conviction

Could it be, however, that these ones in every crowd may be used by God to convict the conscience of the majority? Even if the one is wrong in his/her views, does it not do the body good to hear from those who insist we look at issues through a different lens? Theological reflection keeps the soul in good shape.

Consider the Apostle Paul, who taught the Corinthians both to expel a sexually perverse member and to treat each other as the body of Christ. He understood the tension and paradox of our Christian experience. The Christian life is one of constant theologizing. It also is one in which dialogue vastly outdoes monologue. Incidentally, true dialogue occurs in a tension. Dialogue is not that which leads people to forced, tacit approval of the majority view.

So, when you come across that one in every crowd, forgo the immediate temptation of expulsion. Don’t have a stare down or ignore them. Rather, live in the tension. You usually will find a good solution there.

James Hassell is senior pastor of First Baptist Church in San Angelo.

While the Texas Senate is thinking about who is allowed to use which bathroom, you should give some thought to who is able to use your bathroom.

Eric Black

Some time ago, I polled my Facebook friends using a highly scientific process. I posted a question asking why they go or do not go to church. So many responses came in, I needed a whole three minutes to read them.

One response has stuck with me, because it came from my best friend.

My best friend is married with one surviving son. Their firstborn died a few years ago at age 17 after a lifelong battle with a rare seizure disorder that confined him to a specially designed chair. Their second son also has a seizure disorder and has a specially designed chair.

Need vs. facilities

My best friend told me there are times they are unable to attend church because their son needs particular care that morning. He also said there are places they simply cannot go because they need a bathroom where they can care for their son, and the vast majority of bathrooms do not accommodate their needs.

How many families with special needs are not involved in your church’s ministry because your physical space will not accommodate them? Are you even aware there are families who long for such a place?

My best friend also pointed out the difficulty senior adults sometimes have finding bathrooms where the spouse of the opposite sex can accompany the other. I immediately remembered a couple in our church. He needs assistance in the bathroom, but because our bathrooms are marked gender specific, his wife was not comfortable entering to give him the help she knew he needed.

How many senior adults no longer participate in your ministry because you do not have a bathroom their spouse can comfortably enter with them? Are you even aware this is a live concern?

Eyes opened

I was aware but was not concerned until my best friend opened my eyes.

Our church facility is less than 4 years old. Despite its recent construction, we did not include a family bathroom in the design. Space limitations, cost and lack of foresight explain why. We knew the cost of a bathroom, but we didn’t think about the cost of not having a bathroom.

A few weeks ago, I told some of our leaders about what I learned from my best friend, and we decided to designate two of our bathrooms as family bathrooms. We want to embody Christ by serving people well, and once we had a clear view of something practical to accomplish our goal, our decision was simple.

A hole for imagination

A group of friends once took one of their own, who couldn’t take himself, to a neighbor’s house to see Jesus. The place was packed, and they couldn’t get in, but they were determined. They climbed up on the roof, cut a hole in it and lowered their friend to the floor in front of Jesus.

I really wanted to see Jesus, and I needed my best friend to cut a hole in my imagination so I could.

When people want to see Jesus, do they have to cut a hole in our roof, or are we determined enough to make the door wider?

Eric Black is pastor of First Baptist Church in Covington, Texas, and a member of the Baptist Standard Publishing board of directors.

As you’ve likely heard if you’re involved in Texas Baptist life, three churches recently were declared out of “harmonious cooperation” with the Baptist General Convention of Texas during a meeting of the BGCT’s Executive Board. This decision, of course, wasn’t made unilaterally by the Executive Board. It was the result of a motion passed in November by messengers to the BGCT annual meeting.

Jake RaabeIn other words, no big surprises here; no ambushes. This removal was the necessary result of the motion, and the Executive Board could not reasonably have acted in any other way without working against the wishes of those they represent.

Two camps

Watching the reactions to the removal, I’ve noticed the responses generally fall within one of two camps. One camp, probably the larger of the two, sees the decision a preservation of the BGCT’s commitment to the authority of Scripture. The other camp, a substantial minority, sees the exclusion of these churches as an attempt to silence or marginalize an oppressed group.

Robert Baird, a member of Lake Shore Baptist Church in Waco, demonstrated this kind of response when he told the Waco Tribune Herald: “Baptist minister and author Will Campbell … said a time would come when we Baptists would apologize for how we treated homosexuals as we now apologize for how we once treated blacks. … ’Til that day does come, churches such as Lake Shore in Waco … will bear the exclusion for what seems to us a matter of love and justice.”

Amidst these two responses—righteous indignation against those who would compromise a clear teaching of Scripture and righteous indignation at those trying to block the forward-march of social progress—I’d like to propose a third response I believe is more appropriate: Honest, genuine grief.

God’s desire

No matter what side of the same-sex marriage debate you’re on, the breaking of fellowship is a sad thing. Anyone celebrating this decision or gaining a sense of satisfaction from being “on the right side of history”—both of which are reactions I have observed recently—should reread the myriad of passages in the Bible that speak of God’s desire for a unified church.

For the many benefits of a free-church polity, this is a sad reality. Genuine disagreement by well-intended Christians reading Scripture and listening for the guidance of the Holy Spirit will disagree on important issues, and splitting will result. This is as inevitable as it is sad.

The best thing we can do with this unfortunate reality is to mourn it with humility and willingness to listen.

Those churches that affirm same-sex marriage have chosen to do so not because they’re flimsy, culture-conforming liberals who despise the word of God; they’ve done so after much consideration and deliberation. (You actually can see how that process unfolded in Lake Shore’s collection of weekly newsletters.). They discussed Scripture. They prayed. In the end, they made the decision they felt was most in line with the example of Christ.

Similarly, for those on the other side: I exhort you not to think those who believe Scripture teaches God reserves sexuality for the context of a heterosexual marriage as heartless or oppressive. These churches, too, have made their decisions based on Scripture and prayer, and they agonize at people’s pain and isolation in the same way.

Blessing & curse

We have the same goal, but different understandings of how our shared Master has exhorted us to get there. This is the blessing and curse of Baptist polity: We can disagree, but that disagreement sometimes will lead to painful parting-of-ways.

The BGCT also shouldn’t be vilified for this painful separation. The BGCT is not a board of people sitting in a conference room deciding who can and cannot be a Christian. It is a democratic conglomeration of more than 5,000 churches across Texas combining their resources to further God’s kingdom. It supports hospitals in third-world countries, advocates for improvements to the Texas foster-care system, and brings the gospel to thousands of people every year who might not hear it otherwise.

The three churches that have been excluded were faithful, participating members who loved the BGCT and are grieving at being excluded for what they feel the Spirit is leading them to do. The BGCT is sad to have to part with them, and they are sad to part with the BGCT.

The situation we’re facing is both sad and inevitable. Well-meaning, honest Christians exist on both sides of the debate. The witness of Baptists in Texas rises or falls with the way we treat one another during this debate. Let us pursue every opportunity for understanding and reconciliation and be quick to listen to those who believe differently than we do. Let us still show Christian love to those with whom we disagree.

Jake Raabe is a student at Baylor University’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary in Waco, Texas.

Reflecting back on Black History Month, I find myself looking ahead to 2020 or 2026 in great anticipation of seeing another first in Black history, one that surely will become a lasting part of American history—the replacement of Andrew Jackson’s image on the $20 bill with an image of the illusive and courage-inspiring Harriet Tubman.

Dante Wright

Harriet Tubman earned her place in history, Black history, American history, American Black history and any other labeled history—Black, or otherwise—as the “conductor” of the Underground Railroad.

Escaping the oppression of slavery in 1849, Harriet Tubman made her way North, to freedom. And despite the risk to her own life, she made at least 19 trips into the Antebellum South over the course of 10 years, leading more than 300 slaves to freedom, earning her the nickname, Moses.

Go Down

In my sanctified imagination, I can hear her drawing strength as she softly sang that old Negro folk song, “Go Down Moses.”

Go down, Moses

’Way down in Egypt land,

Tell ole Pharaoh,

To let my people go.

When Israel was in Egypt’s land;

Let my people go,

Oppressed so hard they could not stand,

Let my people go.

Harriet Tubman’s journey to this modern-day America in which she, a former—or escaped—slave, becomes one of a few American figures considered notable enough to grace the face of any American currency transcends the cultural oppression common to traditional American history.

Continuing the fight

Today, African-Americans have spent a lifetime continuing Harriet Tubman’s fight—the fight for, among other things, the inalienable rights guaranteed by the Constitution of United States, basic human rights and the recognition for their many academic, art and scientific contributions to this country. Contributions benefitted by a country that used an enslaved and dehumanized people to construct the very foundation of its economic prowess. A country that not only stripped a dignified people of their identity, but forced their assimilation into a new one.

By 2020, 155 years will have passed since the abolishment of slavery. Yet African-Americans still are “biting at the bits” to secure their place and receive acknowledgment for their inarguably sound contributions in America’s written and acclaimed history.

Even so, we have made our mark on America, and perhaps the wave of the tide turns. In 2016, Treasury Secretary Jack Lew announced the Obama administration’s approval for Harriet Tubman to appear on the front of the $20 bill, relocating the slaveholding former President Andrew Jackson to its rear.

If that plan continues, and the Trump administration does not default, Harriet Tubman will have achieved many “firsts”: the first woman, the first African-American and the first of any race other than European to appear on any American currency.

She shall rise

I can hear Harriet Tubman joining in with Maya Angelou as she boldly proclaims,

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

And rise she shall!

Dante Wright is pastor of Sweet Home Baptist Church—known as the Pinnacle of Praise—in Round Rock.

One look at the comments section of an online article or someone’s Facebook page will prove we have lost the ability to be civil. There is no civility in our anonymous, detached, virtual-reality world.

Zac Harrel

We need to be reminded the second-greatest command, to love our neighbor, extends to our virtual neighbors online.

What may have begun online has no doubt seeped into our wider culture. We not only are a divided nation; we also are an angry nation. This anger mostly is aimed at those we feel are the enemy because they think differently or, heaven forbid, actually vote differently than we do.

We have lost civility in our public square, and we need to recover it quickly. The church constantly talks about being counter-cultural, and there is no greater way to be counter-cultural in this day and age than to be civil, kind and generous.

Convictional kindness

Being civil and kind does not mean you are soft, and having convictions and standing for God’s truth does not mean you have to be unkind or harsh. We are called to give an account of the hope we have in Jesus and to do so with gentleness and respect (1 Peter 3:15).

The church must be known by her convictional kindness. As Christians called to be “salt and light,” we must proclaim the truth of God, call men and women to repentance, and hold up the grace found in Jesus Christ alone with love and compassion for those we encounter. We are called to witness in the public square, to seek the common good and to do so with civility and kindness.

The church should lead the way in this return to decency. I am saddened when I cannot tell the difference between a Christian pastor and another commentator as they yell at each other on cable news.

The unity of the body of Christ does not mean we will agree on every issue, but it does mean we approach our disagreements with kindness and civility.

Public posture

Our posture outside of the body of Christ also should be kindness and civility, for at least two basic reasons.

First, all people are created in the image of God and therefore are valuable and are to be treated with dignity and respect.

We may not agree on any opinion another person holds, and they may not treat us with respect or civility. But we must honor the dignity of the image of God within them. We have no choice but to show kindness when we see others as created in God’s image and therefore worthy of respect. Civility can be recovered when we see others as first and foremost created in the image of God.

Second, all people are loved by God.

Jesus doesn’t love only people who look, think and vote like us. Jesus didn’t come to save only people of whom we approve.

We should ask God to give us his heart for others, especially those we have difficulty loving as Christ loves us. As believers, we are called to love our brothers and sisters in Christ, our neighbor and even our enemy. There is no escape clause in the command to love.

When we begin with the truth that this person is loved by God and therefore should be loved by us, we will show them respect and kindness.

Civility and respect

There will be people, even within the church, that we disagree with. There will be people and churches—as we have seen within the Baptist General Convention of Texas—we may not want to cooperate with because of the nature and depth of our disagreements, but we must treat them with civility, and we must respect them.

I’m not naive enough to think there won’t be divisions, and sometimes there is a point where we must go our separate ways. Paul and Barnabas come to mind. But we can do so with respect.

I’m also not calling for us to lose our convictions for the sake of being nice. There are times we must disagree and follow our conscience. I am saying we must do so with gentleness and love.

The church of Jesus Christ must lead the recovery of civility, kindness and respect in the midst of disagreement. God has given us the foundation, in seeing others as created in his image and loved by him, to recover basic decency in these disagreements and divisions.

Zac Harrel is pastor of First Baptist Church in Gustine, Texas.

When I think about the most meaningful moments in my life, the times where my soul was stirred, most have occurred in small conversations with people I love. I would venture to say the same is true in most everyone’s life.

Jack BodenhamerIt is the conversations with our parents, grandparents and other relatives early in life that build our expectations of what this world is, for better or for worse. As we grow, the voices of our friends take over the role our parental units once had—which directly correlates to the amount of trouble that occurs in these years. Somewhere along the way, mentors are found, friends become people with whom you walk through life, a spouse’s voice may enliven your soul, and sage advice from your mom/dad/grandparents becomes treasured again.

Little voices speaking little truths. Such are the ways of faith and the voice of the Holy Spirit.

These conversations occur in many arenas, be it in the home, school or around a campfire.

I can remember a transformational conversation in one of the more contentious lectures in college; the professor made the statement that salvation is not achieved in reading the Bible, but rather in hearing the gospel. He quoted Romans 10:14-15: “How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’” This lecture, his voice, the immense importance of hearing the good news stuck in my head. How could my voice be one of good news?

A cultural struggle

Being a voice of good news seems to have less and less value in our culture today. We seem to have shifted to valuing boisterous, edgy provocateurs who “tell it like it is,” rather than the voice of one who speaks in humility and brings hope.We would rather be right than in right relationship. “Speaking the truth” has become code language for those who seek to encourage well-meaning church folks to treasure their own comfort and happiness, rather than provoke them to think of others more highly than themselves (Philippians 2:3).

Not that speaking the truth is not important; for certainly, such an action is integral to the life of a Christ-follower. The way in which we speak truth is important. How are we bringing good news? In Ephesians 4, the Apostle Paul writes, “Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.” It would seem that speaking the truth in love matures the body of Christ and would be characteristic of a follower of Jesus.

However, speaking the truth in love is a skill that is not developed much in modern discipleship. Good evangelism must rest upon good news and not the proofs of why I am right and you are wrong.

Kindness, a much-forgotten fruit of the spirit, must lead us. So, too, must we remember our online and social media profiles are as much under the lordship of Jesus Christ as our mouths. When one gossips and slanders on a post, it is as devilish as to speak it in real life. Speaking the truth in love, valuing kindness and being an encourager should hallmark the lives of those who would profess Jesus. Sadly, all too often, our voices are dour, cynical and self-centered.

A voice for the voiceless

I can still remember the first time I ever cussed. It was a doozy, and it was at a wake for my great-grandfather. I was in a lot of trouble. For a long time afterward, whenever I read the Bible and saw passages about controlling my tongue or what comes out of the mouth makes a person unclean, I reckoned it to swearing.

I’ve since changed my mind. I think these Scriptures speak more to the tendency of people to lack love in their words. Over and again, the Bible tells us to use our voices for good news, even when we stand to gain nothing. The Message translates Proverbs 31:8-9 in this way:

“Speak up for the people who have no voice,

for the rights of all the down-and-outers.

Speak out for justice!

Stand up for the poor and destitute!”

May our words ever be for those who need Christ-followers to speak up for them. May we be a voice for the voiceless. May we speak the truth in love. May we speak good news.

Jack Bodenhamer is pastor of First Baptist Church in Elm Mott, Texas.

I’ll never forget my first Ash Wednesday service.

Meredith Stone

Since I have been a Baptist my entire life, experiencing a service of ashes was unfamiliar to me until I learned more about the tradition in seminary.

So, one year during seminary, some of my friends and I decided to wake up early and go to the 7:00 a.m. Ash Wednesday service at our local Episcopal church.

Confession—we didn’t really know what to do when we got there!

We walked in the door, sat down and tried very hard to follow along with the cues of when to sit, stand, pray, sing, go to the front, etc. When it came time to receive ashes, we were glad to be sitting on the last row so we could watch what the others did when they reached the front of the room.

Dust to dust

Like the others, we kneeled down and clasped our hands in front us. Then, the rector came to each of us, smudged a bit of ash on our foreheads in the shape of a cross, and said, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

The year following my first experience with Ash Wednesday, I was serving as teaching pastor in a church that was willing to try new things. So, with my newfound confidence in knowing about all things Ash Wednesday, I organized a service of ashes.

But as is often the case, confidence is easily misplaced.

The service went along nicely until it was time to impose the ashes. I had asked the lead pastor to scrape some ashes out of his fireplace so that we could use them for this part of the service. Only the cross-shaped smudges we were trying to impose weren’t really sticking—or looking much like crosses for that matter, either.

We chalked it up to a Baptist mishap and found joy in the experience anyway.

Keep on trying

The next year when it was time for Ash Wednesday, we talked about adjustments to the service, and the subject of the ashes came up. We assigned the finding/preparing of ashes over to another member of our leadership team. Lucky for us, he actually did his research.

He discovered the ashes that are imposed on Ash Wednesday are supposed to be made from burning the dried palm leaves from the previous year’s Palm Sunday. Then, sometimes the ashes are mixed with a bit of olive oil to have a “sticky” texture.

Obviously, we didn’t realize this tradition 10½ months earlier, when it would have been time to save the branches. So, we improvised that year.

Then finally, the next year, for the third service of ashes we held together, we had saved the palm branches, and we had all the required elements and knowledge for a successful imposition of ashes.

“Nothing” happened

Funny thing happened though—nothing.

Nothing seemed to be different about the service. We still sang songs, read Scripture and prayed. People still took time to consider entering into a season of repentance and self-reflection. The different texture of the ashes didn’t seem to matter.

Only, it did matter to me.

For thousands of years, the church has held certain practices. Some of them include celebrating the Lord’s Supper; following the ordinance of baptism; the fact we pray, sing and read Scripture together; and even the fact churches save the palm branches from Palm Sunday to burn for the next Ash Wednesday.

When our church joined with those countless other churches to worship together in a very particular kind of way, I felt a sense of connection to the church universal and the church of antiquity in ways I don’t always experience.

Sometimes, our churches can’t wait to sing the newest song, obtain the newest kind of signage or buy the newest kind of church technology.

And while what is new brings energy and fresh approaches, there is a value to the past as well.

Crossing space & time

When we participate in Ash Wednesday services or in the whole of Lent, we are able to experience community with Christ-followers across the world and throughout time.

Maybe I’ll struggle with the fast I’ve chosen this year, but maybe someone else across the world will struggle with their fast, too. When I pray for my fast to be a reminder of the things I am working on in my own life, maybe I’ll pray for that fellow believer across the world, as well.

And perhaps I should also remember to pray for that first-time Lenting Baptist who has no idea what to do. May he or she find a blessing in experiencing the ties that bind Christ-followers over centuries and miles—even if those ties are made with the wrong kind of ashes.

Meredith Stone is director of ministry guidance and instructor of Christian ministry and Scripture at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon School of Theology. She is a member of the Baptist Standard board of directors.

He is your praise. He is your God, who has done for you these great and terrifying things that your eyes have seen. (Deuteronomy 10:21)

Steve BeznerI often am stunned at the things that strike me when reading the Bible. In 2008, one of my mentors challenged me to read the Bible in its entirety each calendar year. I practiced regular Bible reading at the time, but I never had read the entire book in that span of time. I now am working on my 10th consecutive year of reading the Bible from cover to cover.

New verses jump off the page each year. I am certain my caffeine intake and alertness levels are culprits. Yet I also believe the Holy Spirit is at play. The Lord seems to draw me to Scriptures that are necessary in the very moment I need them each year. I have not been able to discern any sort of pattern to these scriptural revelations, but they come with incredible timeliness.

Reading vs. slogging

Most recently, while reading Deuteronomy, I could sense my energy and alertness flagging. I once heard a preacher say Deuteronomy was Jesus’ favorite book of the Bible. He supported his claim by pointing out that, when confronted by the devil, Jesus consistently quoted Deuteronomy. His proclamation has haunted me, because I often find myself doing something other than reading Deuteronomy. I would describe my annual journey through Deuteronomy more likes logging.

It was in the midst of a low-energy slog that I read the first bit of Deuteronomy 10:21: “He is your praise.”

I was a few lines past that verse when the short sentence caused my consciousness to suddenly bolt awake. He is your praise.

I read the verse again. And then I read it again. I read it in its entirety: “He is your praise. He is your God, who has done for you these great and terrifying things that your eyes have seen.”

No need for (human) praise

The notion that the Lord himself is my praise was something I never had considered before, and, for some unknown reason, I found it shaking my spiritual core. I have openly divulged to my church and friends that the greatest temptation I face as a pastor is the desire to be loved. I want to be wanted. I want to make decisions others will laud. I want to preach sermons others will compliment. Put simply, I want praise.

And now Deuteronomy 10:21 turned that notion on its head. The Lord himself is my praise.

Why? The second sentence explains. He has done incredible things for his people. He has done these things so we might know that our need for human praise is unnecessary, for his works already have bestowed the highest of praises upon our heads.

This is the essence of the gospel. As a sinner, continually weak and wandering from the Lord, I was stuck in a morass of morality and self-help, seeking to impress others and myself. I was impossible. I was dirty. I was a poser.

God gave himself

And yet, in the midst of that difficulty, the Lord saw me, and he gave me himself. He became human. And he gave himself for me.

God deemed me worthy of Jesus—and that is the greatest praise I ever could receive.

I need no compliments on my work ethic or my sermon. I need no approval on my leadership decisions. I have been given the ultimate compliment of praise in the person of Christ.

When God did this great and terrifying thing in giving me his Son, he made it clear I am worth something—even when the internal voice of temptation might whisper something differently.

God gave Jesus, because Jesus is the highest form of praise I could ever receive.

He is my praise.

And God gave Jesus for you, as well. You do not need the approval of others. He has done this great and terrifying thing for you.

Jesus has given himself for you; he has declared you worthy.

He is your praise.

Steve Bezner is senior pastor of Houston Northwest Church.

Near the end of Deuteronomy, we find Moses nearing his death. The covenant first made at Sinai had been broken before Moses even got back down from the mountain. And now, barred from the Land of Promise by his own anger and impatience, he nevertheless gives some final words to the followers who will cross the Jordan and settle the land.

Ellen Di Giosia

“Choose life and prosperity or death and destruction.”

This feels like a real no-brainer. Life or death? Uh, I guess I’ll go with life. That’s like asking, “Would you rather have a million dollars or a knuckle sandwich?”

What is the people’s response? The text doesn’t tell us, but we know. Although prophets came and went, although tabernacle and temple hosted terrific worship services, the people didn’t choose the ways of life. They repeatedly promised to follow the life-giving path, then wandered off into the weeds and fell into a ditch.

As a reader, I find it infuriating. As a follower of God, I have sympathy.

Blessings, curses & images

Deuteronomy is full of talk about blessings and curses. Deuteronomic theology says living according to the Ten Commandments—and all their attendant regulations—results in blessing, and living in opposition to them results in curse.

This way of looking at Scripture is dangerous. Ultimately, it drives people away from faith. Because God’s honest truth is the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and there’s not a dang thing we can do about it.

But what if we look at Deuteronomic theology as a description instead of a prescription? Instead of seeing blessings and curses as things God does to us, what if we think of them as images of what we become as a result of our choices?

Living in community

The Ten Commandments aren’t simply about personal ethics. They’re about how we ought to live in community. When Moses writes about the covenant demands, he writes, “You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” He writes, “You shall not see your neighbor’s donkey or ox fallen on the road and ignore it; you shall help to lift it up.” He writes: “If there is among you anyone in need, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor. You should rather open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be.”

The biblical writers say God judged Israel for its unfaithfulness. But I wonder if there’s a bit of deflection there. Because when the Israelite people chose to live in ways that contradicted the covenant to which they had pledged themselves, they weakened the fabric of their communities and of their society as a whole.

They weren’t trying to choose death outright, but in just settling for basic security and a loaf of bread for their own families and not looking out for each other, they ceased to live as a cohesive nation. They made themselves vulnerable to the workings of the large, oppressive regimes that surrounded them.

Path of destruction

We can’t choose life for just us. We have to choose life for our neighbors, as well. Any other way leads to death for us all. If we pat ourselves on the back for not bowing down to a golden calf, when all we’ve done is break it into little pieces that we can shove in our pockets and hoard, that is the path of destruction.

If we demonize an entire religion because of the actions of a few, but stay silent when white Christians perpetrate horrendous violence, that is the way of destruction.

We can discuss the economic and social and political results of immigration, and we can faithfully come to different conclusions about how we should proceed. But if we do not speak out when people can walk into homes unannounced and tear parents away from vulnerable children, that is the path of destruction. It is life for me, mine and ours—and death for everybody else.

Here’s the sneaky little secret about blessing and curse: God doesn’t need to send natural disasters or invading marauders. We’ll take care of the curse on our own, destroying ourselves from within.

Ellen Di Giosia is associate pastor of faith formation at Woodland Baptist Church in San Antonio.

Ananias and Sapphira provide a cautionary tale of the danger of holding back from God. We can’t claim to be Christian, to have Jesus as our Lord, and then withhold from God. If Jesus really is Lord, he gets everything, including our whole heart.

Eric BlackFor Ananias and Sapphira, money was like a wad of heartworms that stopped their hearts cold. Money so filled and choked their hearts, they would rather lie about their hearts than own up to the truth.

The lie Ananias and Sapphira told involved money, but money was just the vehicle for the lie, like a chip is a vehicle for delivering salsa. The lie Ananias and Sapphira told was about the condition of their hearts. By giving some of the money, they wanted to appear devoted to God. By holding money back, they proved their hearts were divided.

They also insinuated weakness in God. Their actions said God wouldn’t know, God wouldn’t care and God would be powerless to do anything about it anyway.

The reality is God does know, God does care, and God is perfectly able.

Was money the problem? No. God doesn’t need the money. Psalm 50 records Godsaying: “I don’t want or need your animal sacrifices. I own everything, and can get an animal any time I want. What I want is your heart.”

Ananias and Sapphira thought too little of God, and so they gave God too little of their hearts. They thought God was a small god that could be appeased and fooled withsomething so simple as a few dollars. Throw a few bills in the plate, and they could keep the rest for themselves, and none would be the wiser.

God thought otherwise. God knew otherwise. Our thoughts and hearts are not hidden from God.

Ananias and Sapphira thought it was about their money when it was really about their hearts.

The story of Zacchaeus demonstrates the joy Ananias and Sapphira might have known if they had only realized the truth.

Zacchaeus was a tax collector who amassed a fortune by extorting money from his own people. Jesus met him, invited himself over to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner, and Zacchaeus ended up giving back all the money he took from his people—times four.

In that moment, Zacchaeus gave his whole heart to God. As with Zacchaeus, every single one of us, when we encounter Jesus, have our hearts laid bare and presented with the choice of masters. Either Jesus will own us, or something else—maybe money—will.

We will know our master in that moment of encounter with Jesus. When our hearts are laid bare before him, we either will give ourselves completely to him, or we will hide ourselves and squirm away. Zacchaeus gave himself completely to Jesus, proving it with his extravagant repentance.

How extravagant was it? How much money did Zacchaeus give back? We’re not told how much money Zacchaeus gave back, because his story isn’t about his money. His story is about his heart.

Likewise, we’re not told how much money Ananias and Sapphira held back, because their story isn’t about their money. Their story is about their hearts.

What does your money say about your heart?

Mixing God and money leaves many with heavy hearts. For example, some feel guilty about what they give to God, not because they give too much, but because they think they give too little.

Some of these are giving all they can afford to give. They are like the woman Jesus praised for putting all she had into the offering plate. Her two coins were more of her heart than the piles of money given by much wealthier people.

For those who give all they can give, know this: God sees your heart and cherishes your full devotion.

Others feel guilty for what they give to God because they give so little of what they can give. For these, money is clogging their hearts like a growing wad of heartworms. They get agitated when money comes up at church. Some quit going to church altogether so they won’t be confronted with what God wants to do in their hearts. If they only knew God wants to open their hearts and free the flow of life again.

For these, know this: God knows, God cares and God is perfectly able.

If God and money are a recipe for guilt, I have a simple—though not easy—prescription: Give more of your heart to God. The money will sort itself out.

Ask yourself these questions:

• Do I give to avoid guilt?

• Do I give because someone’s manipulating me?

• Do I give to manipulate God?

• Do I give to get God off my back?

If you answer “yes” to any of those questions, ask yourself what it would be like to answer “yes” to these questions:

• Am I giving as celebration?

• Am I giving to say thanks to God?

• Am I giving as an expression of joy?

• Am I giving as faith in the possibilities of God’s future for us?

Don’t let money stop your heart. Instead, find freedom and fullness of life by giving your heart completely to God.

Eric Black is pastor of First Baptist Church in Covington, Texas, and a member of the Baptist Standard Publishing board of directors.

America is divided. It’s one of those statements we repeat over and over again because every conversation about our surroundings circles back to it.

Jake Raabe

More than anything else, we’re divided along political lines and ready to take down “the other”—be they cruel, heartless conservatives or ignorant, snowflake liberals. My team is good and always correct. The other team is bad and always wrong. The culture war mentality is strong: We declare a side (“left” or “right”), and we advance its cause against the godless other side at all costs.

In our current climate, it seems nothing is worse than being a member of the other “team.” A quick browse of the Facebook comments on various Baptist Standard articles demonstrates this. Most often, those who want to disparage an article don’t do so with a significant appeal to Scripture or a careful response to the issue at hand. Rather, if the article is perceived to have a leftward slant, words like “liberal” and “leftist” get thrown out as insults. If the article is perceived to slant to the right, the word “fundamentalist” gets used the same way.

Not just here, but across the Internet, Christians are faster to criticize something as being on the wrong side of the political aisle than to examine it objectively according to Scripture. It seems Christians have allowed political identity to become more important than Christian identity.

Not listening

The problem with this culture-war mentality—the idea that my group is the correct one and is fighting the other group—is that it doesn’t lend itself to listening. In war, you don’t stop to listen to the enemy. You don’t hear his or her point of view, consider it and adjust your worldview accordingly. No, in the culture war, there is only attack.

Brothers and sisters, it’s time to lay our arms down. We aren’t at war with each other, and thinking our side is always correct is arrogant.

In my last semester at college, I took a class on Baptist history. The first day of the course, it became clear the guy who sat beside me was about as right-leaning politically and theologically as they come. Recognizing him as an unthoughtful fundamentalist—after all, I used to think like that, before I really studied Scripture—I wrote him off. When he spoke, I didn’t pay much attention; after all, if he were thoughtful and intelligent, he would think the same things as I do, right?

Kind of a jerk

I was kind of a jerk to Matt, but he always was nice to me. Over the course of the semester, I learned he was a veteran, and he volunteered at the VA and did church programming aimed to help veterans suffering from PTSD. I learned he was married and had two young children. And, most importantly, I learned he was thoughtful and intelligent. Today, he’s a great friend whose thoughts I respect more than almost anyone’s.

I assumed that, because he didn’t think like me, I didn’t have to listen to him. I was wrong. I thought I was in a culture war, and he was my enemy. It wasn’t until his kindness convinced me to lay my “weapons” of argument and hostility down that I realized he was my brother in Christ.

I had a plank in my eye, and I was reaching for the speck in his.

Shamefully backwards

We’re good friends now. He’s still a self-proclaimed Calvinist fundamentalist, and I’m writing a book about my Arminianism and got my start writing because of my support for the Jill Stein presidential campaign. We’re on different sides of the political and theological “aisle,” but that’s less important than our shared conviction in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

Too often, we think of ourselves first as Republicans and Democrats who happen to be Christians as well. This is shamefully backwards. We are followers of Christ, children of the one God, who may happen to vote one way more often than the other. The kingdom of God is diverse.

It’s time to lay down our arms and start caring as much about our own personal shortcomings than about others. President Trump got elected because a huge portion of the country felt they weren’t being listened to or were being misrepresented. (My friend Sam wrote one of my favorite pieces on the Internet about this). More division won’t overcome the problems that division has caused.

Take a liberal out to lunch. Get coffee with a conservative. No one person or side has all of the answers. Lay down your arms, and keep your eyes plank-free.

That’s what our country needs right now.

Jake Raabe is a student at Baylor University’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary in Waco, Texas.

The late Jules Verne, author of 20 Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, called the sea the “Living Infinite.” Yet the vast waters that surround us don’t seem as infinite as they once did.

Garrett Vickrey

The world is shrinking. And the increasing lack of headroom is ratcheting up anxieties. These anxieties drive support for President Trump’s “America First” mentality. A new world is emerging, and it remains to be seen how Christians will respond to the challenges ahead.

When Christopher Columbus began exploring the so-called “New World,” his discoveries caused great excitement throughout Europe. Columbus sought a western path to the far east. He found the Bahamas instead.

Similarly, John Cabot believed he had arrived in Asia when he landed in Canada, claiming land there for King Henry VII. Excitement over the possibilities of this new world began to spread throughout Europe. Expeditions were launched under the auspices of diverse flags, all wanting a piece of the new pie.

A whole new world

These early expeditions opened up trade in a whole new world. Ships were launched. Goods were exchanged. Poor swine-herders like Francisco Pizarro made a fortune. The business of exploration was promising enough for Columbus to leave behind his life as a weaver. But not all Europeans experienced the blessing of this new wealth. The very foundation of wealth was changing.

The medieval era was transitioning to something new. The foundation of wealth for medieval Europe was land. Kings had it; the poor worked it. The owners of land lived quite well by renting their lands out and requiring their renters to provide them with service and a share of their crops.

Suddenly, gold and silver, which had been in short supply, began flooding from the new world back into Europe, resulting in skyrocketing inflation. The economy was changing. Is there a place in the new world for old world people?

Many in today’s emerging world can sympathize. The exploration of trade routes to the East Indies has evolved over centuries into globalized world markets, remaking economies and nations worldwide. The conversation about the ramifications of globalization need to be worked out in dialogue. Right now, few of us get beyond sound bites about what this means for “workers” or “corporations.”

Some are trying to return the world to glorious eras where we know our roles. But like 16th century Europe, we know if we ignore the new world out there, it will pass us by.

Faithful engagement

How can we as faithful Christians engage this emerging world in faithful ways? Here are three elements of Christian faith that can help us in this new world.

• First, recovery of the early Church’s understanding of Creatio Continua should underlay our image of God’s relationship to this world.

God is still creating. Creation is continually upheld and sustained by God’s Word through the Holy Spirit. God continually calls forth, dwells in and provides for creation. Whatever new world is emerging is still a world that reflects the image of the Creator.

• Second, incarnational ministry demands that the spiritual practice of empathy be given significant space within the liturgy of the church.

Life in the digital age provides too much space for empathy to dwindle. There is a great chasm formed between what we see on screens and what we feel. We protect ourselves from the emotions of others.

Christ came to dwell with us. To feel what we feel. We must do the same. We must practice empathy. We must, as the hymn encourages us, “Let our hearts be broken for a world in need.”

• Finally, we always must keep the vision of the New Jerusalem before the eyes of the world.

The failure of our imaginations keep us locked into imitations of previous failures. How can Christians in the 21st century help the world grasp images of God’s new creation?

Harmful outsourcing

Far too many churches have outsourced the work of social transformation to the political realm. Too many churches have hedged their bets that simply putting “the right kind of Christians” in powerful political roles will create a more sympathetic environment for people of faith. This cloaked identity politics needs a refresher in the much-maligned doctrine of original sin. G.K Chesterton once quipped that original sin is “the one Christian doctrine that is empirically verifiable and validated by 3,500 years of human history.”

People of faith know their frailty. Often, we fail to espouse our corporate infirmity. Yet even in our sickness, the health of God’s new creation is found. Here, there, every now and again, God’s kingdom bursts forth in beloved communities where the hungry are fed, the naked clothed and the stranger is welcomed.

Churches need not bless everything that comes with the dawn of a new era. There is a time for resistance when the dehumanization of certain people groups becomes normative through political talking points, when fear is lifted as a virtue and greed revered.

We find ourselves again in fleets of small vessels cast out upon the “Living Infinite,” crossing toward some great unknown. But like Jesus’ first disciples, we must never forget the One who is on the boat with us.

Garrett Vickrey is senior pastor of Woodland Baptist Church in San Antonio.