In my experience, the word “calling” has had a particular definition in Baptist life. Being “called” means God has communicated to you somehow that you will earn your living in ministry, most likely in a church.

Meredith Stone

We tend to think calling equals a ministry-related job.

But the more I talk to university and seminary students, the more I reflect upon my own journey and those of my peers, and the more I read about calling, I’m starting to think we’re missing the bigger picture.

Only one category?

Why in the world would God reserve the divine call for only one category of occupations? Is the church the only place about which God cares enough to whisper, summon and nudge humans into action?

I think we’ve created far too small of a box for understanding God’s call.

The Puritans describe two kinds of calling—general calling and particular calling. General calling is the call every Christ-follower receives to be a disciple and to share Christ with others. Particular calling, on the other hand, is God’s leading of each person to a particular way in which she or he can contribute to what God is doing in the world.

A particular calling is a passion God has led that person toward, something to which they feel irresistibly drawn, a common thread pulled through their life, a theme that guides their choices and decisions.

Gladness and hunger

Frederick Buechner famously wrote, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

Buechner’s insight exemplifies this understanding of calling. God calls every person to live out the fullest expression of their unique selves in a way that lines up with the needs of this world which God seeks to meet.

God’s call invites each of us to become God’s partner in the work of redemption in this world.

Other authors use different terms for a particular calling, such as missional calling, vocation or a holy discontent. But the same concept is at work. Our particular calling is a God-implanted passion through which we participate in the kingdom of God.

Examples of a particular calling might be hospitality, teaching people about the Bible, racial justice, child literacy, ending hunger, bringing others joy, helping people find wholeness in this life, making the world a fair and safe place, etc.

Life-guiding themes

Notice these examples of particular callings are not jobs. They are life-guiding themes we can express in our occupations, but which we also can fulfill in our relationships, our “spare” time, our volunteerism, etc.

Being able to choose our occupations is a first-world concern. Throughout history and across the world, most people do not have the opportunity to align their occupation with their inclinations. Still, God has been calling and partnering with people throughout time, no matter how they tried to sustain a livelihood.

But since aligning our calling with our occupation is an option for us, we certainly can try to maximize our contribution to God’s work in the world. For example, the person whose particular calling is to help people find wholeness in this life could express calling through work as a counselor, a chaplain, a doctor, a nurse, a fitness instructor, a pastor, a sanitation worker, etc.

However, when finances or life circumstances dictate we cannot line up our callings and our jobs, we still can express our callings outside our jobs, and we can try to be employed in ways that have a positive impact on the world.

Benefit others

Proverbs 11:10a reads, “When the righteous prosper, the city rejoices.” As followers of Christ, any prosperity that comes from our work should not be self-serving, but work which benefits others.

God gives each of us a calling, a unique way to be a part of God’s purposes. God can lead us to discover that calling, and God can guide us in finding ways to express that calling—both through work and all that makes up who we are.

So, instead of saying, “I feel called to ministry,” perhaps ministry-directed people could say, “I feel as though God is leading me to express my life’s calling and passion through an occupation in ministry.”

It may seem like an issue of semantics, but it makes a big difference. As Baptists, we traditionally have believed in the priesthood of all believers. We should not let the way we use “calling” violate that theological principle.

May we grow in our blessing and celebration of the many different ways people are called and participate in God’s purposes for redemption and reconciliation in this world.

To read more on this topic see: Doug Koskela’s Calling & Clarity; Ben Campbell Johnson’s Hearing God’s Call; Parker Palmer’s Let Your Life Speak; Bill Hybels’ Holy Discontent; and Amy Sherman’s Kingdom Calling.

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.

As I was reading through the Gospel of Mark, I had a terrifying realization. I am a Pharisee.

Zac HarrelI have been a Christian more than 20 years and served in ministry the last 10. I have been around church and the things of God for a long time, and as I read through Mark and the interactions between Jesus and the Pharisees, I began to see myself needing the rebukes of Jesus.

So much of the time, my own heart is marked by the Pharisee’s prayer: “Thank you, God, I’m not like him.” I look at others, and my heart is filled with judgment and pride. All of our hearts are proud and judgmental at some points, because we are broken.

A Pharisee & a scribe

If I am even more honest, I must admit there are times when I am the scribes Jesus warns the disciples about in Mark 12:38-40. I like people’s approval and praise. I like to be honored. I like for people to think I am holier than I actually may be. I have to check my own heart: “Am I just putting on an act? Am I just pretending for the approval of man?”

Many Sundays, I call our church to quit playing the religious game, to take off their religious masks or whatever other metaphor we want to use to call one another to be honest about our Christian walk. The reason I know my church needs this call is because I need it, daily. There is a reason Jesus warns his disciples over and over about the “leaven of the Pharisees.”

To be a Pharisee is easy. It is easy to seek the approval of man. It is easy to put on a front and seem more religious than you are. It is easy to pray long prayers in public to be noticed. It is easy to make everything look good on the outside. It is easy to play as if we have it all together.

When we have been around the church for a while we learn how to fake it. We learn how to seem like we are OK. We learn to be Pharisees.

Breeding ground

So much of our church culture, influenced by our broader culture, is superficial. This superficiality is a breeding ground for pharisaical hearts. The hard work of the kingdom of God is to open our lives and submit our lives to one another. It is to confess sin and to allow others to call us out when we begin to become Pharisees toward others and think more highly of ourselves.

It is also easy to condemn others and to be judgmental. We love to read about the Pharisees in the Gospels and point to others today and call them Pharisees. But if we are honest with ourselves, many of us have a pharisaical heart, too. Even when we are calling the church to faithfulness and saying and maybe even doing the right things, if we have a heart of stone toward those we call modern Pharisees we, ourselves, are showing pharisaical tendencies.

We don’t know the hearts of others, and we should give the benefit of doubt and show grace.

Called to love

Sometimes we need to call others out. Jesus calling out the disciples and Paul calling out Peter in Galatians 2 provide us examples of how to do this. But in doing so, we also must check our own hearts. Are we doing this out of love? The Great Commandment goes for us, too. We must love our neighbor; we must even love our enemy. The one across the aisle. The one in the other convention.

We should call for biblical faithfulness, but we must do so with love for those we disagree with, or else we are no better than the Pharisees. We don’t get an exemption from loving because we disagree or even because someone else is rude or condescending.

Our pleas and our standing for the truth always must come from a heart that knows its own tendencies toward pride and judgment, a humble heart that cries, “Have mercy on me, a sinner!”

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

It is a strange fact of human life that idolatry can become commonplace so easily. Worship of the less-than-worthy lodges in our hearts like shrapnel and becomes painful to remove. So painful, in fact, we often look in every place for any justification to avoid facing the problem.

Patrick Adair

The old, longstanding idolatries of evangelical Christianity in the United States are our worship of money, celebrity and power, both political and military. We long have justified the worship of these idols in our culture and even in the church by pointing to the great amount of good that can be accomplished with wealth, with the influence that comes with fame, with political clout and with military victory.

It should give us significant pause that our Lord neither used these methods to accomplish his Father’s purposes, nor instructed his disciples to do so. In the pause, perhaps we will hear the Spirit calling us to repent of those idolatries as we seek to do the work of the kingdom of God.

A new idolatry

The fact is, however, those are the idolatries to which we have grown accustomed. Now, a new idolatry has arisen, aided and abetted by the old idolatries. The new idolatry is that the personal character of leaders does not matter to the evangelical church. No, that is not accurate. The new idolatry is that the personal character of conservative political leaders does not matter much to many evangelical Christians in any significant way. The personal character of liberal leaders—however “liberal” is defined—in any capacity matters very much, just as it always has.

Presumably, the personal character of religious leaders still matters. But the idolatry of pragmatism over right attitude and action reigns over the church’s relationship to conservative politics. This idolatry has taken root, even in the church, because of our older idolatrous commitments to money, celebrity, and political and military power. It is in no small part because we can be convinced that a person would better serve those idolatries and the interests related to them that we were willing to excuse and justify issues of personal character.

Excused & justified

It is painful to recognize and remove idols, so the poor personal character of some conservative leaders has been excused and justified in a variety of ways. The most popular methods are (1) pointing to character issues of whoever is opposing the conservative leader and insisting they are worse; (2) insisting that God can use broken people while ignoring the necessity of repentance and accountability; and (3) hoping vaguely God will make things turn out all right somehow.

Taking each justification in turn:

1. Much ink already has been used to describe the various ethical twists and turns involved in Christians seeking discernment between “the lesser of two evils.” Less attention has been paid to what our responsibility is when only one of the two evils remains.

Discernment here is much simpler. Surely, the answer is not to pretend the lesser evil is now good. Winning does not absolve the winner from being held accountable for his or her speech and behavior, both past and present.

2. When I speak of being held accountable, I mean professing Christians should expect fellow believers to encourage them in righteousness. It is absolutely true that God can use broken, sinful people. I have been blessed to experience this in my own life, as I am sure you have in yours.

But God also makes it abundantly clear repentance is a necessary part of Christian life. You cannot claim to be a Christian without genuine repentance of sin. If this sin has been public, it seems reasonable to expect public repentance. Any professing Christian in any position of leadership who has, for example, been a serial adulterer, owned casinos and a strip club, frequently and publicly used abusive and vulgar speech, and spoken of and treated women as less than co-bearers of the image of God publicly should repent of such behavior.

Repentance is, of course, a very different matter from making excuses, blaming others or changing the subject. It even goes beyond apology. Repentance means acknowledging one’s attitudes and actions have been sinful, asking for forgiveness of sin from God on the basis of Jesus’ atoning sacrifice, seeking to make things right between the sinner and any he has sinned against, and turning away from such sin and toward righteous behavior. Anything less is not repentance.

The Christians who serve as such a person’s co-workers or advisers have the responsibility to make that an issue of highest priority, lest the name “Christian,” and even “evangelical Christian” be linked further to massive hypocrisy. As Christians, we have the responsibility to urge our fellow believers in such positions of national leadership to hold one another accountable.

3. Our hope as Christians is not vague. Our hope is specific. Our hope has a name, and we have the privilege of addressing our Hope each time we pray. Let us pray specifically for what we hope God will do in our nation, in our churches and in its leaders. Let us pray for one another in these times of idolatry and pray all idols would be thrown down and all praise go only to the One who is worthy.

Patrick Adair is pastor of Central Baptist Church in Marshall.

In 1993, Kurt Cobain chanted lyrics that resonated with an entire generation: “All in all is all we are,” also heard as “All alone is all we are.” The chant occurs during the fadeout of Cobain’s wildly successful song, “All Apologies,” and it seemed to concretize the feelings of loneliness among many of us Gen-Xers. We were labeled the “latchkey generation” and the “MTV Generation” due to our supposed laziness and parental abandonment.

James HassellJust to remind you about Gen-Xers, we primarily are people born roughly between 1965 and 1980. Our most vivid memories revolve around rapid technological changes, the Challenger explosion, being scared of AIDS, a short war in Iraq and an adulterous president.

Those of us who grew up going to Baptist churches also may recall tense moments and have the battle scars to prove it. Sometimes, the church looked nothing like Jesus. As we have advanced rapidly toward middle age, some of us have found a home in other denominational groups or even outside of evangelicalism. Some have quit being part of a church altogether.

Being a Gen-X pastor, then, is an interesting proposition these days. Some of us still hear Kurt Cobain’s lyrics loudly ringing in our ears.

Some flee

Let’s face it: Research overwhelming reveals the majority of our generational peers view the local church as old, passé, fading, declining, irrelevant and kaput. Somewhere along the way, many Gen-Xers started to believe either that we do not need the church in order to look like Jesus or that the church does not need us. Consequently, many resolved with finality to flee the church in order to do kingdom work.

This issue of fleeing may be the most pressing one for Texas Baptists in the 21st century. Our response today certainly may impact even how things work among our fellowship into the next century. So, how do we respond?

Here is a Gen-X Texas Baptist pastor’s attempt to provide some initial guidance:

First, a fresh engagement with the discipline of listening appears in order for all Texas Baptists, young and old.

I find ample biblical evidence to support the fact churches do better when they listen first and talk second. Some of us may be so culturally conditioned, however, that it’s hard to hear the Bible, much less each other.

Take, for example, the issue of homosexuality that seems to be the hottest button among Texas Baptists now. All of us must be wary of setting up a classic “us versus them” scenario in which your camp is defined as the one on the side of God and justice. Justice without love is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Ethicist T.B. Maston said we truly get on the side of justice when we pay attention to the restless masses, yet we should not neglect loving order. Such can only be done through careful, prayerful listening.

This issue is not, therefore, an “either/or,” but it is a “both/and.” We all—no matter our age—have a right to be wrong. Gen-X pastors may be particularly suited for moderating this conversation between some polarized generations in our churches. Kurt Cobain may be wrong about us after all.

Second, let’s remember the local church is a large part of God’s plan for us to edify each other and to equip one another to live as ambassadors of Christ in the world.

I think it a little odd when people try to do kingdom work without the church and vice versa—the danger being kingdom work, especially social kingdom work, easily can turn into an exercise in egotism for those not rooted in a local-church community. The local church, then, is a gathering of imperfect priests doing kingdom work together in a local context.

Mid-20th century theologian W.T. Conner said it this way: “The more we move away from democratic organization and government in the church, the more we cease to be Christian in our application of the Bible in the local church.” Conner was considered by some as a “progressive” in his day.

So, from a Gen Xer pastor to you: Please don’t forget the importance of local churches. They are outposts of the kingdom of God in Texas. Abandoned outposts will come under attack and eventually turn into museums. Therefore, listen to one another, and keep cooperating. Flee the devil, not the church.

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

An article at the Washington Post by Wilfrid Laurier University professor David Haskall, “Liberal churches are dying. But conservative churches are thriving,” has been turning heads lately.

Jake RaabeThe article details a Canadian study of 22 Mainline Protestant churches in Ontario. The study asked a series of questions to determine if the churches are “conservative” or “liberal” and examined the net growth or loss in attendance over a 10-year period. Haskall concluded, “Conservative Protestant theology, with its more literal view of the Bible, is a significant predictor of church growth while liberal theology leads to decline.”

This gave me pause. The phrase “literal interpretation” has lost almost all meaning within contemporary Christian discourse, as have the phrases “conservative” and “liberal.” To find out what the author constituted a “conservative” or “liberal” church, I examined the original study he published in Review of Religious Research, “Theology Matters: Comparing the Traits of Growing and Declining Mainline Protestant Church Attendees and Clergy.”

Surprising criteria

The criteria he used to determine if a church is liberal or conservative surprised me. The statement “Through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, God provided a way for the forgiveness of my sins” indicates church is conservative, as does “God performs miracles in answer to prayer” and “It is very important to encourage non-Christians to become Christians.” A conservative church, by this study’s definition, seems to be a church that believes in the basic narrative of the Gospels, God’s intervention in the world, and evangelism and discipleship as important components of the Christian life.
            What struck me reading the study is that these are not typically convictions I would associate with conservative theology. Belief in Jesus, an active God and evangelism seem to be basic components of the Christian faith. Contrary to what the headline implied to many readers, Young-Earth Creationism and a ban on women in leadership roles didn’t correlate with growth; basic adherence to historic Christian theological affirmations did.

“Saving” the church
            In his article in the Washington Post, Haskall refers to John Shelby Spong’s Why Christianity Must Change or Die as a model for what he calls a “liberal” church. In this 1998 book, Spong, an Episcopal bishop, claims in order to remain honest and relevant to the modern world, Christianity must move beyond the traditional understanding of Christianity as expressed in the creeds to fit within the scientific and philosophic consensuses of the day. Christianity in the modern world, he claims, no longer can teach “a supernatural deity who invades the world periodically, who works through a virgin birth, a physical resuscitation and a cosmic ascension.”

Departing from the vision of Christianity expressed throughout history was supposed to save the church. Instead, we now find, those who subsumed the gospel to culture are failing, and those who proclaimed basic orthodoxy to a skeptical culture are gaining ground, regardless of which particular “brand” of Christian theology they subscribe to.

Success or failure

If the results of the study are true, then Spong was incorrect. Christianity does not need to change in order to survive in the modern world. In fact, departure from Christian orthodoxy is an assurance failure for a church.

Perhaps the title of the study should be adjusted. Conservative Christianity isn’t growing, and liberal Christianity isn’t shrinking. Churches that hold to the gospel as it has been understood throughout Christian history are growing, and churches that subsume the gospel to the movements of culture are dying.

A healthy, growing church doesn’t come out of subscribing to a particular brand of Christian theology, but from having a theology that is Christian in the first place.

As an active member of a church with female deacons and more members that vote donkey than elephant, I take great heart in this news. God is faithful age to age, and the gospel is a truth that, while often translated to speak to new contexts, never has to be altered or adjusted. Spong was incorrect; Christianity is doing just fine as it is.

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

In reading Psalm 1 recently, I was reminded how Dietrich Bonhoeffer described the great bulk of the Christian life as one of diaspora, in which we are scattered out into the world. Most Christians do not work in churches or, as I do, in educational institutions that train ministers; we do not spend most of our waking hours in close proximity to church members or in celebration of the word. And so, with the Psalmist, we must ask ourselves what it means to be a Christian in the world, when we are, in fact, sitting in the seat of mockers most of our lives (Psalm 1:3).

Myles WerntzTo do this well requires, to paraphrase the Swiss theologian Karl Barth, to be able to say both Yes and No well. We must, as Christians, say Yes to the world, for it is this world which God has created, loved, atoned for and one day will re-create. Accordingly, our answer to the world cannot be a resounding No. As Christians, we live in the world as those seeking another city, but also as those committed, in hope, to God’s future for creation.

But neither can our witness be without a No. As those committed to the person and way of Jesus Christ, there are acts and ways that appear now as shadows, negative images in light of the Light of the world. And to be a Christian is to acknowledge that, while there is a great deal Christians should be saying Yes to, every Yes entails a subsequent No. To say Yes to the Lord of Creation is to say No to all other lords.

Say and do

This, of course, is easier said than done.

As Jason Mahn recently wrote, we are Christians living, for the most part, in Christendom. Our country is not a theocracy, and our incoming president has evinced no interest in enacting those kinds of reforms. But we live in a world that, for the most part, recognizes Christianity as the default faith, even where there is no faith to be found. Christianity is in the air we breathe, whether or not we are holding our breath. Whether one confesses the faith or not, Christianity remains the de facto assumption.

It’s complicated

For the Christian, then, following Christ becomes complicated. Saying Yes to Christ will mean saying Yes to things our Christ-haunted culture sees as the exception, the extreme and the abandoned. It will mean taking on guilt, dining with sinners, letting our feet be washed by those who use their own clothes as towels. It will mean saying Yes to possibilities that have been forgotten to history books and fairy tales.

This Yes will bring with it certain Nos, although to be certain, not every No we wish to utter is the one God would have us utter: There are calls of discipleship we always will want to refuse under cover of inconvenience that are the call of Christ nonetheless. But saying Yes to Christ in spaces where we find Christianity the de facto position will mean at times saying No to those safe spaces. It will mean refusing cheap grace in favor of a costly one, as well as taking up a cross when we would rather put it down. It will mean refusing the safety of being the majority.

Christians have been offered safety and protection, a great freedom to remain the majority and to have their interests protected. And it is precisely now when relearning discipleship involves both a Yes and a No matters.

The danger facing Christians in America is not that we will never confess the faith, but that it is too easy now to confess. The challenge for Christians is to say Yes and No in ways that exceed the low bar, that even in a place where Christianity is assumed, we might be Christians.

Myles Werntz is assistant professor of Christian ethics and practical theology and the T.B. Maston Chair of Christian Ethics at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon Seminary in Abilene. Email him at Myles.Werntz@hsutx.edu.

It’s just past New Year, and the Texas Legislature may be hamstringing mental health professionals, and in turn, Texans when the legislative session convenes this spring.

John WhittenAs a Texas Baptist pastor, I understand the value of mental health care and know the challenge of finding good mental health care for members of our congregation and community. I frequently hear success stories in our congregation and around our community of the impact of our mental health professionals.

Spouses reach common understandings. Children process complex emotions. People who are depressed begin to see glimmers of hope. The grieving experience comfort. Individuals with addictions move toward recovery. And those with suicidal thoughts safely process their hurts and discover love and purpose for their life.

Mental health care professionals are on the front line of our Christian pro-life ethic, which desires all humans to flourish fully to their God-given potential. Mental health care is essential for the well-being of our state.

Significant threats

Unfortunately, Texas continues to rank at the bottom for mental health care services. And without many Texans’ awareness, the Texas Legislature could deal Texans a huge setback when it comes to mental health care. Current agendas would lead to a decrease in quality and access for Texan’s mental health.

The Texas Legislature’s Sunset Commission is looking to dissolve the boards of the state’s licensed professional counselors and its licensed marriage and family therapists, as well as social workers, and turn them over to the Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation.

This state agency—TDLR—is not equipped to handle the oversight of this many licensed professionals. This change negatively would affect the quality of mental health care in the state. As it stands right now, marriage and family therapists are trained through thousands of hours of coursework and internships. Only a professional board has the knowledge and experience to establish a reasonable, appropriate and rigorous licensing standard and to enforce ethical standards that protect the public. We do not need to change this.

More bureaucracy

Additionally, works are in process that would require licensed marriage and family therapists to be under the supervision of a licensed medical physician. It is widely understood other mental health professionals—licensed professional counselors—would be next. What this would mean is that a person seeking mental health first would be required to see a physician for a referral to see a mental health care provider. The patient then would continue to see a physician for periodic updates on progress.

Many physicians are not set up to deal with an influx of patients this policy would bring. Physicians are tremendous at practicing medicine but are not trained like family therapists and counselors in mental health and therapy.

Also, this would drive up health care costs as Texans would be forced to add another step to get mental health care. This provides an unnecessary profit point off the backs of hard-working Texans for their mental health care.

What you can do

Here is what you can do to ensure the mental health care of Texans is not further impeded:

First, call your state legislator and members of the State Sunset Commission and let them hear your voice. Let them know you are for mental health care for the state and do not want to see the independent boards of counselors and therapists transferred to the Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation. Instead, the Sunset Commission should accept the proposal of mental health professionals to improve the functioning of their boards by creating the Texas Department of Mental Health Professionals, whereby mental health professionals can regulate themselves in the most cost efficient and responsible manner. (To contact members of the Sunset Commission, click here.)

Second, let them know you support the rights of family therapists to continue to diagnose their clients for billing purposes. Failure to do so would decrease Texans’ access to health care and drive up their costs.

Will 2017 find the Texas Legislature supportive of mental health care? I sure hope so.

John Whitten is lead pastor for the gathering at Pioneer Drive Baptist Church in Abilene.

I’m not big on New Year’s resolutions. Mine never seem to be fulfilled, and I’m guessing I’m not alone there. But as I thought about the incarnation of Jesus this Christmas season, I decided to make one resolution for 2017.

Zac HarrelThe reason we celebrate Christmas is because it represents the incarnation of Jesus Christ, the Son of God made flesh. Jesus entered into the brokenness of our world, of our lives, in a manger in Bethlehem. There are times when we wonder if God is there, if he is good or if he loves us. The incarnation gives us the answer.

Ever-present Jesus

Jesus came for us. God is not “out there” somewhere. God is near. God is present. He is present every moment and through every struggle. The good news of Christmas, the news that gives us great joy, is the news of the incarnation. This is the good news of the ever-present Jesus.

Jesus didn’t shy away from the brokenness of this world. He dove right in. He does not shy away from our own personal brokenness. He is there. He is present. As his church, he calls us to be present, too. Thinking through Christmas this year, I realized I needed to be more obedient to the Great Commandment and the Great Commission, and for me, that means I need to follow the example of Jesus where he has placed me. I need to be more present.

As I look into and across this New Year, I want to be more present to my family, to my church, to my community.

Distraction cloaked as “community”

There is a lot of hurt, a lot of pain and a lot of suffering all around us. We easily gloss over the hurt and pain of our lives in our social media world. We have learned, or rather been formed, to be connected always and yet never to be truly present. Distraction is with us at all times, and this distraction cloaks itself as community in the form of social media and other connecting apps and websites.

Next time you go out to eat or shop, notice how many of us are consumed with our phones. I was at my daughter’s dance recital, and as I was videoing her performance I realized I was only seeing her through my screen. In a real way, we have traded the beauty and glory of the real world, of real presence for our phones. We have traded real community for online “community.”

My phone consumes me. I want to be present to my family. I want to put my phone down and play with my daughter and listen to my wife. I want to be present to my church, to their needs and hurts. I want to be present to the work of God in me and through me.

If I am honest, my spiritual life suffers the most from my addiction to my phone. Prayer is harder because I need to check Twitter or Facebook or because someone emailed me or I need to answer that text. How often am I just present, simply there, quietly before God?

Are you (fully) present?

I don’t want to burden your conscience unnecessarily, but let me ask you this question: Are you present? I’m not asking if you are there for your family, for your church, in your relationship with Christ. I’m not asking if you show up. I am asking if you are fully there, fully present in the moment.

Let me challenge you and myself:

Turn off the phone.

Play with your kids.

Have dinner without the interruption of a text or call.

Don’t experience life behind a screen. See the beauty of God all around you and be present in the moment. I have a feeling if, like the disciples, we asked Jesus to teach us to pray, his first response to us in 2017 may be, “First, turn off your phone.”

To be the spouse and parent we need to be, we must be present. To minister to the brokenness of our neighborhood and community, we must be present. To love God as we are called to do, we must be present.

I am making the resolution to be present in 2017. Will you make it with me?

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

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”—Luke 2:14

Eric BlackEvery family has a peacemaker.

You know the one—the person who can’t stand any tension in the family, the person who at the first sign of trouble does whatever it takes to smooth everything over.

When Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” he wasn’t talking about family peacemakers. He was talking about so much more.

The family peacemaker deals in temporary fixes like a cook trying to keep a pot from boiling over. The family peacemaker tries to keep everything at a slow simmer.

Jesus came with the promise of so much more.

Jesus came into the world with the angelic promise of peace on earth. Later, when Jesus left the world, he left his peace that overcomes the troubles of the world. Jesus came in peace and left in peace, and neither without trouble.

What is this peace?

Our Christmas songs mislead us. They teach of peace like a calm winter snow, a beautifully lighted Christmas scene or the sentimental warm feeling of the season. This kind of peace is temporary and dependent upon our emotions and outward circumstances. This isn’t the peace of the angels’ song.

The peace about which the angels sang is the deep shalom of God. Shalom is an ancient word meaning wholeness, completion, perfection and welfare. Shalom is grounded in the solid rock who is God and does not need us to feel any particular way about it or our circumstances.

When the angels proclaimed peace, they proclaimed the birth of the One who would bring shalom. They sang of the calm in the raging storm and the unshaken ground in the earthquake. They sang of Jesus, who saves us and makes us whole.

Jesus is our peace.

Jesus and his disciples ran into rough water out on a big lake one night. Jesus was asleep in the front of the boat while his disciples frantically tried to stay afloat. Finally, they woke him, shouting: “We’re going to drown! Don’t you care?”

Jesus woke up and said to the wind and the water: “Peace! Be still!” And all the world was calm. (Mark 4:35-41)

After Jesus calmed the storm, he asked his disciples where their faith was. He wondered why they were afraid when the God of the universe was inside the boat with them, but the disciples didn’t know who Jesus was, and they were afraid. Jesus’ words—Peace! Be still!—were as much for them as for the wind and the water.

We, however, do know who Jesus is. He is Mighty God, Creator, Deliverer, Rock, Prince of Peace.

Jesus is our peace, and his peace is for the world.

As the body of Christ, part of our role in the world is to be agents of Christ’s peace. To be agents of Christ’s peace means we must do more than keep things at a slow simmer. We must actively make peace in this world.

Before we can make peace out there in the world, we first must make peace in here. Robert Morgan shares a war story illustrating what I mean.

During World War II, ships carrying weapons to Europe ran into rough seas. One ship carrying Sherman tanks fell into desperate trouble. The tanks broke their moorings and began sliding back and forth inside the ship’s hold, slamming into the bulkhead. Their 20- and 30-ton weight was causing so much damage, the ship had to pull out of the convoy. Crew members had to go down into the hold, somehow get on the moving tanks, and fasten them down again before the ship could safely continue eastward.

Despite the raging storm all around the ship, the most pressing danger was inside. Once things were secure inside, the ship could face the onslaught of the waves.

Before we can face the troubles of the world, we must face the troubles of our own soul. This is an important work of Christ’s Spirit in us, as well as an important work of the church as we help one another find peace in Christ.

Yes, Jesus is our peace, and his peace is for the world.

The winds are howling, and the waves are rolling. The storm is raging, and the earth is quaking. Donald Trump is president-elect. Russia and China are beating their chests. Syria and the Sudan are imploding. ISIS and Boko Haram are rallying troops. The ship is taking on water. The pot is about to boil over.

How the world needs daring people who will go down into the ship’s hold to tie the tanks down again. How the world needs peacemakers!

Let us find peace in Christ so we may bear what the world so desperately needs, remembering the same Lord who is shalom for the world also is our shalom, our peace. May we remember he who said he will always be with us is still in the front of the boat.

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

By random accident of geography, over half the world’s population celebrates Christmas during a time of the year associated with winter. Actually, almost 90 percent of people live in the northern hemisphere, but about half the world live at a latitude that actually “feels” winter.

Craig NashMost of us know this cognitively, and we occasionally ponder how strange it would be to see Mr. and Mrs. Claus in board shorts and sunglasses. But I doubt we’ve given much thought to how this has informed the way we experience Christmas.

Advantages to winter

There are advantages to having a winter Christmas, when the days are shorter and the weather colder. Or, in the case of most of us Texans, less warm.

It lends itself to quiet reflection. The colder weather sends us inside in search of warmth, family and friends, as well as the comfort of sweaters and warm socks. Turning our attention to the Christ-Child, we carry that insular, introspective spirit with us as we reflect on the loneliness of Mary, the confusion of Joseph and the joy of the world. Both the minor keys of Advent and the major keys of Christmas allow us to process the Good News in our heads and in our hearts with reserve, as we ponder what it meant for our previous year, and what it will mean for the coming one.

Feels like “summer”

But for some of us, 2016 has made this Advent and Christmas season feel more summer-ish. The year has been an alarm. Not a fire alarm sending us running out the building, or a siren leaving us wondering what’s going on, but a wake-up call.

Cities are falling as innocent children dodge bullets to escape. Many of these children are being told by the wealthiest, most elaborate inn on the planet: “We are full here. Can’t risk what you may bring with you. Find shelter elsewhere.”

Some of our neighbors are fearful for their lives as they walk down the streets or are pulled over for broken taillights. Many tell them that this fear is irrational: “Do as you are told, and everything will be OK.” Sign the census, pledge allegiance to Caesar, and your anxiety will fade.

Other neighbors are labeled “violent,” associated unfairly with actual violent people who claim, erroneously, to practice the same faith. Regardless of how cooperative and kind they are, these neighbors often have to take different routes home, out of fear for what may befall them if they are in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Wake up and get busy

I’m writing this on the day before an anticipated 45-degree drop in temperatures and five days before the shortest day of the year in my corner of the world. But I’m not feeling that. I’m feeling summer, the time to wake up and do something.

In the next week, I’ll sing “O Come, O Come Emanuel,” “O Holy Night” and “Silent Night” in solidarity with my community, but what I’m feeling is the prophetic words from Isaiah, “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you!”

I’m pondering the words of Mary, devastating to some and revelatory for others, that “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly, he has filled the hungry with good things and the rich he has sent away empty.”

Friends, it may be cold and dark outside, but the sun is rising. May this Christmas be a time for us all to begin waking up and doing something.

Craig Nash is a child hunger outreach specialist and the No Kid Hungry regional coordinator for the Texas Hunger Initiative, based in Baylor University’s Diana Garland School of Social Work.

Recent weeks must have been at least a little unsettling for Russell Moore, president of the Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission, the Southern Baptist Convention’s public-policy and advocacy agency.

Jake Raabe

Late last month, former SBC Executive Committee Chairman William Harrell wrote a blog post criticizing Moore for his political activism and opposition to Donald Trump. Harrell also claimed to speak on behalf of “a number of pastors, particularly from larger churches, who are seriously considering escrowing their Cooperative Program funds until something is done.”

Soon after, the Louisiana Baptist Convention’s state news site, which featured a similar editorial earlier this year, linked to Harrell’s article. The subject subsequently came up at the Louisiana Baptist Convention annual meeting, where messengers overwhelmingly approved a measure to “study the recent actions of the SBC Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission with regard to issues of concern to Louisiana Baptists.” While this resolution is vague, it’s difficult not to read it in light of Harrell’s and Baptist Messenger editor Will Hall’s editorials calling for an end to Southern Baptist support of Moore and the ERLC due to his opposition to Trump and perceived hostility toward traditional conservative values.

Moderating voice

It would be naive to claim all of Moore’s political beliefs align perfectly with those of Southern Baptists at large. Speaking strictly in terms of politics, but not theology, Moore has been a consistent moderating voice in a convention that recently has been extremely conservative. However, silencing or dismissing Moore would be a grave mistake for Southern Baptists.

Again, Moore often is a dissenting voice within the SBC, a point both Harrell and Hall make in their calls for disassociation with the ERLC. Dissent is, however, a hallmark of Baptist history and identity. I’ve written before about the history of our denomination, which started as a persecuted group of dissenters from the Church of England. Historically, Baptists have striven to be a prophetic voice that stands apart from the dominant culture and calls it to faithfulness.

Harrell claims the ERLC has “egg all over their faces” because they were “completely out of touch with the reality of how the people felt” in the 2016 election. This defies Baptists’ oldest legacy. Should John Smyth and Thomas Helwys have stepped down from their congregations because the majority of Christians in England in the 17th century believed in infant Baptism? Baptists historically welcome dissent and caution.

Problematic approach

Of course, as Harrell argued in his column: “They must remember that the people in the SBC are volunteers. They don’t have to give their monies to fund such thinking.” No person within the SBC is compelled to support the ERLC financially. However, funding based upon whether a group espouses all of the same convictions as an individual is a deeply problematic way to approach church and parachurch ministry.

Should we withhold tithes and offerings from our church if we disagree with something the pastor preaches? To do so ultimately assumes we as individuals never need correction or alternative viewpoints, a sentiment that is prideful and has no place in the Christian life. To dismiss Moore because his political viewpoints differ with a large number of Southern Baptists is to assume those members of the convention are without need of correction or challenge, a spiritually dangerous claim to make.

To that extent, I wonder if Harrell, Hall and other critics of Moore and the ERLC could find a strictly theological issue they disagree with him on. Moore holds to biblical inerrancy, six-day creationism and complementary gender roles without apology. The opposition to him isn’t about theology or doctrine: it’s purely political and, specifically, about his opposition to Donald Trump. Claiming Moore doesn’t represent the SBC is claiming voting for a Republican candidate in every instance is a fundamental aspect of faith for the SBC. Additionally, it would place distance between the SBC and the large number of SBC church members who also did not support Trump’s presidency.

Collapsing the gospel

I write this because I care about Southern Baptists. This isn’t a hit-piece. Although I currently attend a Cooperative Baptist Fellowship-affiliated church, I previously served on staff at an SBC church, and two of my groomsmen in my recent wedding were young Southern Baptist pastors. I care about the SBC and don’t want to see them damaging their witness by collapsing the gospel of Christ into a certain brand of American politics.

When discussing this story, one friend asked what would distinguish the SBC from a Super PAC if they required all leaders to support specific candidates. I’m afraid I didn’t have a solid answer for him. The SBC’s response to these challenges to Moore will be an important test, and I pray convention leaders will be fully aware of the implications of any decisions they make.

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

This fall, I have been preaching through the book of Esther on Sunday evenings. What a challenge!

Zac Harrel

Esther is one of the most interesting books in the Old Testament. What makes it so intriguing is it never mentions God directly or indirectly. God’s name never is spoken, and he is not prayed to within the narrative.

Just reading through the book without the context of the rest of Scripture, it looks as if God is nowhere to be found. Through the persecution of his people, to the blatant idolatry of Haman, to the dismissal and abuse of Queen Vashti and countless other women in the Persian kingdom, you wonder: Where is God? He is not named. He is not mentioned.

Broken reality

Esther is an example of the broken reality of this world. If we are honest, in our own lives, sometimes it is hard to see God at work and hard to trust his plan and purposes.

With the help of the rest of the scriptural witness, we know God is there and God is working. We can know God is faithful, even when we don’t recognize his presence. Esther reminds me of that famous saying sometimes attributed to Charles Haddon Spurgeon, “When we cannot trace God’s hand, we must trust God’s heart.”

The reality of Esther has been helpful for me leading up to this Advent season. This life is hard, and sometimes, we wonder where God is in the mess of this world, in the mess of our lives. We may go days, weeks, months, years without recognizing the hand of God or mentioning his name.

Waiting for God

Throughout Esther, the reader is waiting for God to show up, for God to save his people, for God to intervene. And he does all that—through the faithfulness, courage and boldness of Esther and Mordecai.

Before ultimate salvation, the sense of anticipation throughout the book is palpable. We can relate. Advent is about this sense of anticipation. It is this palpable feeling of waiting for God to save, waiting for God to intervene, and he does through the faithfulness and obedience of Jesus. The story of the birth of Jesus is the story of God showing his glory in a time when many were wondering where he was.

Christmas reminds us God is right here. Jesus entered into the brokenness of this world, the brokenness of our lives. That manger in Bethlehem reminds us God has not abandoned his world or us. In the midst of idolatry, abuse and evil, Jesus enters into this world to make all things new. The anticipation we feel inside us for salvation and the groaning of the creation for redemption find their fulfillment in Jesus.

Know God’s heart

We can know God’s heart for us because we know Jesus left the throne room of heaven to put on flesh and blood, to become fully human with all our struggles and pain. He endured abuse and abandonment. We can relate to Jesus when he cries out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” This is the cry of our broken hearts, and the answer we can trust because of Jesus is that God is right here. You can trust his heart, even when you feel alone and abandoned.

No one will ever know the reason we go through pain and grief. There is no easy answer for the evil and suffering we experience in this world.

I cannot trace God’s hand all the time, but I do trust his heart. I trust his heart, because Jesus entered into this broken world and took all my sin and endured so much suffering so that he might redeem and restore not only me but also all his creation. Jesus came to make all things new.

Esther reminds me of the messy reality of life in this fallen world. Christmas reminds me God has not left us alone, and God is always working to redeem and restore.

In the brokenness of your life, trust his heart.

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