The news of recent days gives yet more evidence that too many in our world have given up the low bar of common decency in favor of sheer disregard for one another.

The irony is the horrible events of the last few days occurred during a season we associate with … increased acts of common decency.

These horrific acts began long before they happened. They each began as a thought, with disregard for the life of another. They serve as evidence of a world in need of the redemption to which Christmas points.

As we become further inured to indecency through regular violent actions—often spurred on or followed by violent rhetoric—we become less able to reach the higher bar signaled by Christmas.

Amid the indecency of our day, Christmas points us beyond acts of kindness to laying down the whole of our lives as Jesus did for us. May we be so bold.

Horrific news

The following events depict what can happen when we do not lay down our lives for others but, contrary to Christ, assert our superiority over others. The result is horrific.

The killing of two students and injuring of nine in a Brown University classroom Dec. 13 shows the depth of disregard for life. Despite Rhode Island Gov. Dan McKee’s asserting “the unthinkable has happened,” such occurrences are all too thinkable, even in a place called Providence.

The slaughter of 15 people celebrating Hanukkah, Dec. 14, at Bondi Beach, Sydney, Australia, shows the persistent disregard for particular lives—Jewish lives. Fifteen lights were extinguished during this Festival of Lights.

That same day, Dec. 14, we received news Rob and Michele Singer Reiner were found dead in their home. Rob and his father Carl being giants of American entertainment, this news hit many particularly hard. Harder still is that the Reiners’ son Nick has been charged with their murder.

As we were coming to grips with these three horrific events occurring in short order, a further indecency was launched into the news: Donald Trump’s Truth Social post blaming Rob Reiner for his own death. I won’t link to the despicable post or Trump’s shrugging it off the next day.

Decency—common or otherwise—seems in short supply these days. If we could reach even that bar, we would do well. Yet, Christmas points us further. Christmas points us to laying down the whole of our lives for those with whom we differ, disagree or worse.

As much as I’d prefer to write a warm, fuzzy Christmas editorial, I cannot turn away so easily from our troubled times and what Christmas points to amid them.

Where Christmas points

Christmas is our celebration of God the Son being born as a human baby in fulfilment of centuries of prophecy and longing. Jesus didn’t have to go through with it. Jesus didn’t have to be born into this world, much less at the time of his birth. Neither Rome nor Herod were known for their decency, and the Jewish people had their own challenges.

And yet.

Jesus looked at this world and may have said: “Those are some messed up people. I’m going to go live with them.”

Jesus didn’t just live with us; he committed to the bit. He started as an embryo, then grew inside his mother, was born, went through childhood and puberty, became an adult, and experienced ridicule, misunderstanding, brutality and death—not vicariously, but firsthand. He took our indecency. All of it.

While he was facing ridicule and misunderstanding, he told us to love those who revile us, to bless those who persecute us, to lay down our lives even for those who hate us. Jesus commanded us not to meet indecency with indecency, but to lay down our lives in the face of it.

Anyone who says we should do any different is a false witness.

Jesus’ choice to live among us, despite knowing how messed up we are—because he knows how messed up we are—is our call to surpass the low bar of common decency associated with Christmas, a bar too many of us find too hard to meet, and to lay down our lives even for those who disregard us to the point of brutalizing us, who just as soon would see us dead.

A bracing truth

How’s that for a “Merry Christmas?” But isn’t that the truth within the warm fuzzies of the season?

I’d rather write a feel-good editorial, but I can’t make us feel good about the times we’re in. So, instead, I’m calling us to protest the way of this world by following how Jesus lived and told us to live in it. And that is to lay down the whole of our lives like Jesus did so others may be redeemed.

We live in a troubled world during troubled times. If I was old enough, I might say it feels like 2,000 years ago. In a general sense. The details are different.

If I was old enough, I definitely would look like I carried the immense weight of two millennia of disappointment and disillusionment about the state of the world. Trouble, terror and turmoil are a recurring theme in our history books.

If I was a Christian all that time, I probably would be overcome by our collective and consistent inability as Christians to live up to what Jesus called us to do.

But one thing I could not and cannot deny: Jesus knew all about the state of this troubled world and chose to live in it with us anyway.

Think about that as you read the news today—the heart-breaking, stomach-churning news of today so often devoid of even common decency.

While you mull that over, keep in mind it gets better than Jesus choosing to live with us. Christmas is part and parcel of Good Friday, which is part and parcel of Easter, which is part and parcel of where all of this is going—the redemption and restoration of all things.

Christmas is just the beginning, pointing us far beyond. May we be so bold.

*******

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Every morning in Brazil, before the first light breaks, millions of phones buzz across time zones and cities. People roll out of bed, open YouTube, and join a single rhythm—the rosary at 4 a.m.

Led by Frei Gilson, a Carmelite friar whose voice has become familiar in countless homes, this livestreamed prayer has become a phenomenon.

In a nation once defined by Catholic ritual and later transformed by evangelical zeal, something new is stirring—a quiet awakening at the crossroads of faith, technology and culture.

Evangelicals among Catholics

I have watched this story unfold with both curiosity and hope. Brazil always has been a testing ground for missionary imagination—a laboratory of faith. In many ways, I am a by-product of that story.

My own faith and the origins of my family was shaped by the American Southern Baptist missionary movement that took root in Brazil more than a century ago. For many Baptists, Brazil was the first great foreign mission field—a land to be “reached” for Christ.

I grew up surrounded by the hymns, mission fairs and youth camps planted by Southern Baptist missionaries who traded the suburbs of Dallas and Atlanta for the tropical humidity of Recife and the colorful coral reefs of João Pessoa. Their influence was immense.

Yet beneath the mission statistics and baptism counts, there always was tension. For centuries, Catholicism enjoyed a near monopoly on Brazilian spirituality. To be Brazilian was to be Catholic by default.

When evangelical churches began multiplying in the 20th century, the word crente—“believer”—became a slur. Catholics used it to mock the noisy newcomers who sang with guitars and preached with passion.

As a young boy, I remember the sting of that word. It carried both disdain and fear, as if faith outside the old institution were a contagion. That divide—Catholic versus evangelical, traditional versus modern—shaped Brazil’s religious identity for generations.

A change happening

And yet something unexpected is happening now. The same Catholic Church that once viewed evangelical fervor with suspicion is rediscovering its own.

Frei Gilson’s 4 a.m. rosary is only one sign. His livestreams draw millions—including evangelicals who tune in quietly, searching for peace. It’s a kind of digital pilgrimage: part prayer meeting, part revival, part collective exhale in a nation weary from polarization.

In recent decades, Catholicism in Brazil has faced steep decline. Census data show Catholics have dropped from more than 90 percent of the population in 1980 to just over half today. Evangelical churches—especially Pentecostal and neo-Pentecostal movements—have surged, filling gaps left by institutional fatigue and economic despair.

Yet even evangelical growth is slowing. The irony is just as both traditions feel their limits, they are learning from one another. Catholics are embracing small-group community and emotional worship. Evangelicals are rediscovering liturgy, contemplation and social teaching.

In many ways, the pandemic accelerated this convergence. With sanctuaries closed, both Catholics and evangelicals went online. Prayer chains, Bible studies and worship nights migrated to YouTube and WhatsApp.

Out of the isolation emerged something organic and deeply human: people longing to belong, to pray, to find God together.

Frei Gilson’s dawn prayers captured that hunger. He is not a celebrity pastor with a production team. He’s a friar in a simple brown habit, praying ancient words in real time. Yet through the digital commons, he has reached more hearts than any cathedral could hold.

Shift in influence

As someone who grew up watching American missionaries teach Brazilians how to “do church,” I find this reversal fascinating. The flow of influence is shifting.

The global south no longer is merely the mission field. It’s becoming the mission force.

Brazilian Christians now are among the most active missionaries in the world, from the favelas of Rio to refugee camps in the Middle East. They carry a passionate, improvisational and communal spirituality.

Where Western churches often analyze strategy, Brazilians embody surrender. The 4 a.m. prayer movement may seem strange to Western observers, but it reveals a deeper truth: Renewal may not come from conferences or budgets, but from tired people praying in the dark before they go to work.

Of course, renewal in Brazil comes with complexity. Religion and politics never are far apart. The rise of the MAGA movement in the United States found echoes in Brazil’s own populist wave under Jair Bolsonaro, who drew strong support from evangelicals.

The fusion of nationalism and Christianity—what many call “Christian nationalism”—has scarred both nations. It tempts believers to confuse cultural dominance with divine mission. I have seen how this fusion divides families and congregations, turning faith into ideology.

Some of Frei Gilson’s critics fear his movement could be co-opted by similar forces. Perhaps that fear is justified. But beneath the noise of culture wars, ordinary Brazilians are rediscovering prayer. That may prove more transformative than politics ever could.

Post-Western, Revelation Christianity

The more I observe, the more convinced I am Brazil is showing the world what post-Western Christianity might look like. It is less tidy, less institutional and far more embodied. It is a church without monopoly—both wounded and vibrant, ancient and experimental.

It is Catholic women livestreaming the rosary from their kitchens, Pentecostal teenagers preaching on TikTok, Baptist pastors partnering with Catholic charities to feed the hungry. It is not the death of denominational identity, but its transformation into a wider imagination of the kingdom.

This is what gives me hope. The global church is becoming more like the one Jesus promised—polyphonic, multiethnic, global in accent and local in compassion. The old Western monopoly on theology and mission is breaking down, and that is good news.

When I see Catholics and evangelicals kneeling together in prayer—even through a screen—I glimpse a small reflection of Revelation 7: “a great multitude … from every nation, tribe, people and language.”

I think back to my grandparents’ generation—humble Brazilian believers who embraced the gospel through the witness of American missionaries. They never could have imagined their grandchildren watching a friar on YouTube pray the rosary at dawn, or evangelical pastors quoting Pope Francis in their sermons, or the world looking to Brazil for spiritual innovation. But God’s story always bends toward surprise.

Perhaps that is the quiet miracle of the 4 a.m. prayer. In a nation once divided by faith and class and creed, there now is a chorus rising before dawn—a sound of people seeking God together. It may not fit anyone’s missionary playbook, but it feels like the kingdom breaking in—slow, ordinary, luminous.

Diego Silva is the director of economic strengthening at Buckner International. A native of Brazil, he lives in Georgetown with his wife and two boys. He writes about faith, community development and global mission. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

The fifth “wall” in the Baptist “house” Karen Bullock describes in her Pinson Lecture is local church autonomy, paired as it is with congregational governance.

These are not difficult doctrines to describe. Baptists believe each local church is an autonomous entity, free from the control of governments or ecclesiastical hierarchies. Each congregation is governed by the will of its members, in whom the Holy Spirit is active to reveal the will of Christ and empower the local church to carry out that will.

It also is relatively easy to explain the benefits of this way of understanding the church. Each church member is granted the responsibility of participating in the governance of the local church, and healthy engagement in that governance demonstrates he or she is maturing as a disciple of Jesus.

Likewise, local congregations are free to shape their ministry in response to the needs and opportunities presented to them by their context.

Nevertheless, the problems created by these corresponding convictions are so myriad and so consequential they cannot be described fully here. All we can do is make a couple of preliminary observations and then touch briefly on the challenges presented by Baptist polity.

Preliminary observations

So, what does the Bible have to say about church polity? Unfortunately, the answer to this question is not as clear as we might like.

The New Testament assumes churches are independent of governmental control, but that is not surprising given the first Christians did not have the option of living in a “Christian” country.

As to the issue of how churches were run, it rightly has been observed that you can find evidence in the New Testament for any of the three broad streams of polity that have dominated church history—episcopal, presbyterian and congregational.

For example, 1 Corinthians presents the church in Corinth as a unified, decision-making body, one Paul had to persuade. In Acts 14, however, we see Paul and Barnabas relying upon their apostolic authority to appoint “elders” in each of the congregations they founded.

So, does one polity seem to work better than the others? That is a matter of opinion, but I would argue every polity has its weaknesses.

We have seen many of those weaknesses played out in the various sexual abuse scandals that have rocked the Roman Catholic Church, the Southern Baptist Convention, and many other denominations and parachurch organizations.

In episcopal systems, wrongdoing can be covered up by bishops, and elders or board members can do the same thing in presbyterian or semi-presbyterian contexts. In congregational denominations, the decentralized nature of authority can blunt attempts at accountability and change even when wrongdoing is brought to light.

Autonomy and cooperation

With these preliminary observations in mind, let us turn our attention to the challenges associated with local church autonomy and congregational governance.

The first challenge has to do with how autonomous entities can cooperate with one another for the sake of a shared mission.

Southern Baptists long have cooperated with one another to fund various entities that serve the church—such as educational institutions and mission boards. For several decades, they did so recognizing different churches had different theological orientations and different value structures.

In recent decades, however, there has been less tolerance for this kind of diversity of thought.

Whatever one thinks of the various conflicts that afflicted Southern Baptists over the past 50 years, it cannot be questioned, these conflicts are about the extent to which any given Southern Baptist church has the right to have its particular values reflected in the denomination’s institutions.

At the risk of stirring up a hornet’s nest, let me put the problem in practical terms, using an issue that has been in the news over the last year or more.

On the one hand, it can be argued the North American Mission Board has every right to direct its money into church plants that reflect the dominant doctrinal convictions of the Southern Baptist Convention, since doing so reflects the will of the vast majority of messengers expressed during a number of annual meetings.

On the other hand, it can be argued doing so restricts the freedom of Baptist churches who do not agree with that consensus to see their own values and convictions reflected in the kinds of churches Southern Baptists plant.

Similar arguments could be marshaled concerning the beliefs of seminary professors, the commitments of candidates for missionary appointments, and especially for those allowed access to state convention resources for helping prospective pastors find a church.

My point in raising these issues is not to say who is right and who is wrong, and it certainly is not to hurt anyone’s feelings. Rather, my point is to ensure we understand issues like these are not a bug in the Baptist system. They are a feature of that system, one that must be acknowledged and addressed honestly whenever conflicts arise.

When something goes wrong

The second challenge related to Baptist polity already has been mentioned. When something goes wrong, as in the case of the reckoning that took place after the Houston Chronicle and other news outlets reported on the prevalence of sexual abuse in Southern Baptist churches, there is no easy way to bring about reforms.

At first glance, it would seem such should not be the case. If the SBC can discipline churches for having a female pastor, then they ought to be able to discipline churches for other transgressions of denominational doctrine or best practices.

But the truth is most problems in ecclesiastical spaces are not as easy to identify as simply looking for job titles on a church’s website.

Without an authoritative hierarchy of church officials that have been entrusted with the task of investigating problems and developing solutions, it is up to individual believers, congregations and smaller denominational units to bear the burden of bringing about reform.

And make no mistake about it. Reform is needed, and it will be needed again in the future.

Baptists will not be able to hide behind their polity when they stand before Christ. So, we had better figure out how we can preserve our commitment to what we really think is a biblical understanding of the church’s governance, while also creating mechanisms to bring about change.

New ways forward?

Perhaps this is one aspect of Baptist identity where we might do some experimenting.

The Evangelical Baptist Church of Georgia—the country, not the American state—describes itself as an “episcopal Baptist church.” As of 2013, it was led by an archbishop and three bishops, one of whom was a woman.

More recently, and closer to home, some Baptist churches have traded their business meetings and committees for boards of elders.

Only time will tell whether experiments like these produce better results than the polity that characterizes most Baptist churches and denominations today. Either way, Baptists have a lot to think about. I can only hope they will do so with a sobriety and generosity of spirit not common in our polarized, overly politicized and toxic world.

Wade Berry is pastor of Second Baptist Church in Ranger and has been resident fellow in New Testament and Greek at B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

The prophet Micah ministered in the southern kingdom of Judah in the turbulent decades at the end of the eighth century B.C., about the same time as Isaiah and just after Amos and Hosea had been preaching in the northern kingdom of Israel.

In the aftermath of Israel’s fall to Assyria, Micah was preaching to a congregation trying to accommodate an influx of refugees and struggling to understand we can’t love God faithfully without loving our neighbors. Micah’s teaching about true worship continues to have deep relevance for the church today.

Broadly speaking, the book alternates between judgment and salvation, with warnings dominating Chapters 1–3 and promises dominating Chapters 4–7. Much of the book takes the form of a court case with testimonies, accusations and defenses from all parties.

The poetry is full of word plays—you might need to pull out an atlas for these—and vivid images, including comparing leaders who abuse their authority—whether through action or inaction—to cannibals.

The theology of justice, righteousness, human leadership and God’s rulership is rich, and the hope of restoration and peace is inspiring.

Good resources can help sift through the language, history and poetry, so we can hear the message of Micah more clearly and more faithfully preach and teach this important book in our own contexts. Here are a few I recommend.

New International Biblical Commentary: Preaching from the Minor Prophets and Minor Prophets I by Elizabeth Achtemeier

Elizabeth Achtemeier was one of the great biblical preachers of the last century. She is the source of several aids for preaching Micah and other Old Testament texts well.

Her book on Preaching from the Minor Prophets can be a great starting point, because it gives very practical help for sermon writing—everything from recommended commentaries and background information on the biblical books, to sermon title ideas, to discussion of important theological themes.

As you figure out where you need to dig deeper, her commentary in the New International Biblical Commentary series provides passage-by-passage exegesis of a biblical book that, as Achtemeier says, highlights the hope God’s kingdom will come on earth and challenges us to be part of God’s work in the world.

Apollos Old Testament Commentary: Obadiah, Jonah, and Micah by Elaine Phillips

This commentary gives a more intense analysis of the biblical text, beginning with a translation and notes on the Hebrew.

Phillips carries the historical context and meaning of Micah forward, however, considering how it developed in the rest of Scripture and in the life of the church.

Significantly, she also draws out the relevance of Micah’s placement in the canon—asking, “What difference does it make that it comes after Obadiah and Jonah?”

Her attention to the whole of Scripture—Old and New Testament both—is helpful as we think about the call to preach “the whole counsel of God.” None of these books stands alone.

International Theological Commentary: Micah: Justice and Loyalty by Juan I. Alfaro

Micah is a prophet who compels us to consider—and love concretely—those who are vulnerable, “other” and outside.

In many ways, white Westerners who enjoy the many privileges of freedom, democracy and a stable economy are not well-suited to understand the prophet fully. We need to read the book with our Christian brothers and sisters in other contexts. This commentary helps us do just that.

Juan Alfaro guides us through the Micah’s historical and literary aspects, and he does so with the perspective his ministry background in the Philippines and with the Hispanic community of San Antonio gives him.

This commentary will challenge you to hear Micah with new ears and to live out the challenge of Micah 6:8 more faithfully.

And if you want more

Micah is such a rich book. So, perhaps it is unsurprising so many wonderful resources exist that help us study it and proclaim it more faithfully. I’ve tried to reflect a range of affordable and accessible resources here, but I could have gone on and on with my list.

For example, Stephen G. Dempster’s Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary on Micah includes careful exegesis and theological reflection to draw out the connection between God’s word to Micah’s earliest audiences and God’s word to the church today.

James Nogalski’s commentary in the New International Commentary on the Old Testament series dives even deeper into the language and context of Micah, while also exploring the formation of the book and its relationship to the other Minor Prophets, also known as “the Book of the Twelve.”

For a look at Micah from a feminist angle, you could try Julia O’Brien’s volume in the Wisdom Commentary series.

Gary Smith’s NIV Application Commentary covers Micah alongside Hosea and Amos from a conservative evangelical perspective and with lots of attention to how God continues to speak words of rebuke, comfort, forgiveness and hope through these ancient prophetic voices.

My encouragement to you is to read Micah—as I hope you will all the books of the Bible—with both the Holy Spirit and with people who are different than you are. God created the world to be a tremendously varied place, and sometimes it’s the shock of varied perspective that God uses to illuminate the message of Scripture.

Rebecca Poe Hays is associate professor of Christian Scriptures (Hebrew Bible/Old Testament) at Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary. An ordained Baptist minister, she has served congregations in Tennessee, Alabama and Texas. She is married to Joshua Hays, who serves as associate pastor of First Baptist Church in Waco, and is the mother of two young children. The views expressed in this resource article are those of the author.

When the subject of apologetics comes up, many people start to quote 1 Peter 3:15: “Always be ready to give an answer to anyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”

The word Peter uses there is apologia, which is where we get our modern term “apologetics.”

I love that passage. But I think sometimes we forget the context.

Peter isn’t writing from an ivory tower, debating abstract ideas about God. He’s writing to believers suffering—men and women under real persecution, possibly under Nero’s rule, maybe even during the time of the Great Fire of Rome. People were losing their livelihoods, their families, even their lives.

So, when Peter says, “Be ready to give an answer … for the hope that you have,” he’s not calling for an intellectual defense in a lecture hall. He’s talking about something much deeper—standing firm when it might cost you everything. He’s saying: “Know what you believe, know who you trust, and know why your hope in Christ is worth dying for.”

But somewhere along the way, I think we’ve lost sight of that.

We’ve turned apologetics into a kind of sport—a competition to see who can dismantle the most arguments or win the most debates. In doing so, we’ve missed the heart of Peter’s words. The call was to give an answer for our hope, not merely our logic.

When apologetics becomes about winning

Don’t get me wrong, I love theology. I went to school and got my graduate degree in biblical and theological studies. So, I’m firmly of the belief it’s not only healthy but necessary to understand what we believe and why we believe it.

But what troubles me is how often our approach to apologetics has communicated a subtle yet dangerous message that unanswered questions are dangerous.

When someone raises a doubt, our instinct is immediately to “answer” it—to shut it down, to defend God as if he needs us to. We treat questions like viruses that need to be neutralized before they spread. But the Bible doesn’t treat questions that way.

In fact, the Bible leaves many questions unanswered. It’s not a book that exists to explain every mystery of God or every nuance of theology. It’s not a user manual for every moral dilemma or an encyclopedia for every philosophical puzzle.

The Bible’s purpose isn’t to tell us everything. It’s to tell us who God is, what he’s done and what he’s promised to do. As Deuteronomy 29:29 would put it, “The secret things belong to the LORD our God.”

When we approach apologetics as if it’s our job to have all the answers, we rob people of the very space that faith requires—trust. Because faith isn’t the absence of questions. It’s trust in the midst of them.

The real crisis: Is God good?

When I was in seminary, Mikel Del Rosario, now a professor at Moody Bible Institute, was speaking to a group of us and said something profound I remember clearly to this day: “The main issue I see in most of my conversations isn’t that people don’t believe God is real. It’s that they don’t believe he’s good.”

That struck me deeply. He’s right.

We spend enormous energy proving God’s existence—arguing cosmological, moral and historical evidence. Those have value. But even if someone accepts God is real, it doesn’t mean they’ll follow him. As James wrote, “Even the demons believe—and shudder” (James 2:19).

Believing that God exists isn’t saving faith. Trusting who God is—that he’s good, loving and worthy of our trust—changes everything.

Too often, apologetics defends the reality of God but fails to demonstrate the character of God. We argue for his power but forget to display his love. We show he’s true but not that he’s beautiful.

This is one reason I’ve grown weary of formal debates. Don’t misunderstand me, debates can have their value. At their best, they were meant to bring ideas together, to help both sides understand the issues more clearly. But somewhere along the way, debate became about domination.

Domination, debate or discussion?

You can see it even in the titles of videos: “Christian DESTROYS atheist.” “Apologist CRUSHES Muslim scholar.” That kind of language doesn’t reflect Christ. It reflects pride.

When we go into conversations determined to win, we’ve already lost the heart of the gospel. Because love “does not boast, it is not proud, it is not self-seeking” (1 Corinthians 13:4–5).

The purpose of apologetics isn’t to crush an opponent. It’s to invite a person into a journey to true life.

That’s why I prefer the word “discussion” over “debate.” Discussion assumes we both have something to learn. It leaves room for humility. It gives me the freedom to say: “That’s a good point. I need to think about that.”

It’s not about keeping score but about pursuing truth together, even if the correct answer ultimately doesn’t come from you.

And honestly, that posture itself is one of the most powerful apologetics we have—a willingness to listen, to learn and to love.

What if we led with love?

Author Madeleine L’Engle once said: “We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it.”

That quote wrecks me every time I read it. Because it’s true. People aren’t drawn to Christ because we out-argue them. They’re drawn because they saw something beautiful—a hope, a peace, a love they couldn’t explain.

When apologetics becomes about love rather than leverage, something changes. We start seeing the person, not just the problem. We begin to realize, behind every question is a story—sometimes a story of pain, disappointment or fear.

If someone asks, “Why does God allow suffering?” they really may be asking, “Why did God allow my suffering?”

In that moment, a textbook answer won’t heal, but empathy might. Listening, weeping and sharing our own wrestling—that’s apologetics in its truest form.

Peter’s call never was to “win arguments.” It was to share the “reason for your hope.” Hope is not abstract; it’s embodied. It’s the conviction that no matter what happens—persecution, loss, doubt, pain—Christ still is worth it.

And when people witness that kind of hope lived out, it’s contagious. Not because our reasoning is airtight, but because our trust is unshakable.

The hope that speaks

Maybe it’s time to recover what Peter meant all along. Apologetics isn’t about having perfect answers. It’s about having a faithful presence. It’s not about being right. It’s about being kind. The most persuasive apologetic isn’t a rebuttal. It’s a relationship.

The gospel doesn’t need defenders so much as it needs witnesses—people who have tasted and seen that the Lord is good, and who invite others to do the same. People who love deeply, listen patiently and live authentically. People who can say, not just with their words but with their lives, “This is why I still have hope.”

Because in the end, apologetics isn’t about winning arguments. It’s about revealing hope. And that hope has a name: Jesus.

Taylor Standridge is a Christian podcaster and producer who loves to help people understand who God is and how to live faithfully according to his goodness, grace and generosity. His writing has been featured in Peer Magazine, Christ and Pop Culture, RELEVANT Magazine and NextStep Disciple. He holds a Master of Biblical and Theological Studies from Dallas Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

I realize Advent has moved on to peace, but I’m stuck at hope. It won’t sound like that at first, but keep reading.

I’m a bit of a Grinch about the holidays—any holiday. I humor the holidays, but I don’t really get into Christmas until a couple of days before Dec. 25.

Part of humoring the holidays is understanding we will start singing Christmas hymns the first Sunday after Thanksgiving and will sing them through the first Sunday after Christmas. The same songs. Every year.

And those same songs will play. Everywhere. Sometimes as early as October.

Maybe this Grinchiness started when I worked retail in college and had to listen to canned pop Christmas tunes nonstop for hours on end for days on end. Some things are hard to get over.

Or maybe it happened while I was a pastor. Most people don’t realize how much work Christmas is for a church staff and volunteers. The staff would love to celebrate with you, but they’re likely busy and exhausted from all the extra events and all that goes with them. So, even their celebration can be … sleepy.

Anyway. Some people love this time of year. I humor it. Grinchy, I tell you.

So, I wasn’t prepared to be moved by “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” while we sang it during the modern worship service at our church this last Sunday morning.

I had a similar experience last year when our choir sang a particular arrangement of “O Holy Night.”

I really don’t expect this to become a holiday habit.

A holy hope

Last year, I wrote that “O Holy Night” has “long been one of my favorite Christmas hymns.” That’s true. Once Dec. 22 rolls around, I really like it. But I may have given the impression I appreciate the song at any time. So, I will clarify: “Let’s not get carried away. The song should inhabit it’s proper setting—Dec. 22 through 24.”

Or maybe just Dec. 24.

“Boy, he is Grinchy, isn’t he?”

“O Holy Night” seized my attention last year because of the arrangement, which I’d heard before but really heard that particular moment in that service.

The same happened this last Sunday morning with “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” this ubiquitous song of longing for the Messiah.

Sunday morning, we sang a modern arrangement of this old Latin hymn, translated bit by bit into English centuries later.

Words of woe: “O come, o come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here.”

Met with the hopeful chorus: “Rejoice! Rejoice! E-ma-nu-el shall come to thee, O Israel!”

To this, the modern arrangers added: “Rejoice, again I say rejoice, For unto us is born, The savior of the world; Take heart, O weary soul take heart, For Heaven’s on its way, And holy is His name.”

And we sing it loud.

Sunday, I saw the words on the screen, and I sang them as I saw them, but the lingering echo wasn’t, “Take heart, O weary soul take heart,” but “Take heart, O weary world take heart.”

Why should it? Why should this weary world take heart?

Because Emmanuel is on his way. Better still, because Emmanuel is here.

A hollow hope

My jaw tightens at so much of the news. It’s hard to rejoice amid the news of this world. It’s wearying and disheartening. It’s hard to hold out hope, or at least to believe there’s much substance to hope. Hope really can ring hollow here.

It’s also disappointing to see so many people—especially Christians—putting their hope in worldly solutions. Even Christians place undue hope in policies, money, power and material things.

There is no policy that will make everything all right, no political party, no amount of money, no accumulation. We know this intuitively. Yet, we maintain hope in the world, or we give in to hopelessness, hiding it in hedonism or despair.

“Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!”

This is the substance of a world and a people who don’t know, don’t see or who refuse to believe: “Heaven’s on its way, and holy is His name.”

A ‘foolish’ hope

What we hope for is foolishness to this world. What we hope for actually is an inversion of this world. What Emmanuel taught, what he came to do was to turn this world inside out, and nothing will be all right until it is turned inside out.

We can cease firing and sign the treaties, we can cross the aisle and make deals, we can sell all we have and give it to the poor, but until our hearts are inverted—read: converted—by the One whose name is holy, all that activity won’t satisfy the true substance of our hope. Until Jesus is Lord and we quit being pretenders, our hope will be hollow.

We can do all the worldly things right, but doing them won’t mean everything will be all right. Because the problem isn’t in our politics, policies, social positions or pockets. The problem is in us. To fix the problem, we must be turned inside out.

The substance of our hope is beyond the power and money and stuff of this world. The substance of our hope is not dependent on who wins the war. Yes, it would be easier—so we think—if our side wins—whatever side that may be. And we do hope our side wins, thus the fight.

To this world, saying Jesus guarantees what we hope for is abdicating the fight. Or it’s militarizing Jesus. Talk about polarization.

But what we really long for, what we really need, is not guaranteed by our side winning. It is guaranteed by Jesus and is kept in his kingdom. To this world, that’s hopeless, irresponsible, stupid, weak, naïve, foolish.

A hope fulfilled

Back to peace: Scripture warns against proclaiming peace when there is no peace. This world warns against proclaiming hope when this world thinks there is no hope.

But Jesus really was born. Jesus really did live and teach and heal. Jesus really did die. Jesus really did rise again to live and reign over all things for all eternity. And Jesus said he will come back and restore all things.

No, there may not be peace on Earth right now, but there always is hope—a hallowed hope.

And that will make any Grinch’s heart grow.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Sitting in church, noticing the lights and holiday decorations in the worship center, I remembered this week was approximately the anniversary of my bout with clinical depression 35 years ago.

I recalled not everyone is joyously anticipating Dec. 25. Not everyone wants Christmas lights shining in their eyes.

Loneliness and fear in the midst of a celebrating crowd is very real. Depression can gain a foothold like at no other time of the year, perhaps partially because of holiday expectations and loss of loved ones.

While some folks are celebrating the happiest time of their lives at Christmas, others are hiding under the covers and praying for spring.

People have trouble understanding depression. No wonder. It has taken me 30 years to be able to describe and write about the illness I experienced.

The illness I experienced

Overcast skies with cold weather bring back that feeling of desolation that nearly put me in the hospital. I was in my 30s and had a young child, and my husband served on the staff of a large church.

Emotional illness carried a huge stigma back then, and for that reason, my doctor decided to treat me for depression at home and not in the hospital.

Unknown to us then, I was without estrogen and had a nonworking thyroid. I was exhausted by motherhood and church work, with a body not operating at full speed.

We knew for months something was wrong, that my energy was very low, but thought I could cope with it. How often hardworking, determined people try to throw off illness and cure themselves.

One day, I lost color in my vision. The world was gray, and visual space perception or perspective changed. Rooms in our house looked huge and dark, and objects seemed far away. Kind of a scary tunnel vision.

Inside my entire body, I felt a vibrating, extremely anxious sensation. Terrifying, but I was able to sit quietly with the shaking. When I no longer could sit, I would pace back and forth across the room, praying for God’s help.

I remember being so sad I was ill and could not help my family. I was a burden, that fate worse than death to depressed people.

Facing a perplexing condition

My doctor met us at church that Wednesday night where we customarily had dinner and a leadership meeting on Wednesday evenings. I could barely get in the car, but my husband helped me to our appointment.

We three went into a Sunday school classroom, and the doctor determined he would prescribe a general antidepressant. I followed up with him in his office and then with a psychiatrist, who added an antianxiety medicine and a beta blocker for my racing heart.

Immediately, my vision returned to normal, and about six weeks later, my symptoms were mild. Apparently, I needed the brain chemical serotonin. Fortunately, medication with counseling were successful and helped me return to daily activities.

Whatever it takes to get well, however many times you must see the doctor, do it!

If God allows life, live fully

Some people, including myself, fear leaving home with the illness. At home, we have strategies to manage depression or distract ourselves from symptoms, and we can hide our condition from other people. So, for a while, I saw the logic in staying home and protecting myself from the stressful surprises of real life.

We depressed people try to manage our anxiety, stoically and with phenomenal effort, until two things happen: (1) we collapse, and/or (2) we realize we no longer are “living” life, not a healthy, abundant life. Of course, by then, we are in serious need of help.

So again, accepting medical and counseling help is the way through the maze. Severe illness is a trauma, and we need strong support from family and work, as well as doctors.

God heals in Jesus

I wonder if people in Jesus’s day experienced depression. Certainly, they did.

I know Jesus came to heal and save those who lived in pain—physically and emotionally.  Remember, he asked the invalid at the Pool of Bethesda, “Do you want to get well?” (John 5:6). When Jesus heals, he seeks our willingness.

Our physical, mental and spiritual dimensions get sick together and get well together.

With depression, problems tend to layer atop one another until the exhausted body and brain are affected. Some say a chemical imbalance comes first, but even if that is so, what does it matter? Our darkness still needs light.

Scripture speaks of “eyes seeing God’s salvation” (Luke 2:25-35). Luke relates a precious story of the prophet Simeon holding baby Jesus in his arms at the temple when Jesus was 40 days old.

Simeon knew his prophetic work was fulfilled when Jesus, light to the Gentiles and glory of Israel, was revealed. Simeon then could go to heaven holding on to God’s personal promise to him that he would see Jesus, after which he prophesied of Jesus’s impact on humanity.

Jesus was a light to my eyes even when the physical “real world” looked gray. He was the one spiritual light that never went out. Darkness cannot extinguish Christ. He is beyond physical light, dwelling in the impenetrable light of God.

The light of Christmas

God has boundaries, and he is bound by his radiance, but when we seek him above all else, we can enter his presence through Christ to pray and to praise him.

God is healing light. One might think of laser, radiation or ultraviolet light used in medicine. Light carries power that breaks down cells and kills germs, cuts and cauterizes, reveals disease and health. Light meets the present need.

Depression did not befall me because I lacked Jesus. Jesus, the light of the world, carried me through the illness. He was my safe place, my sanctuary, as foretold by the prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 8:14).

Whatever you are going through, there always is more of Jesus than any of us can comprehend and more to the life he can give than you can fathom. He has put the potential for healing within you and comes to you personally with healing in his wings. Yield yourself to him and your personal physicians, and find sanctuary.

You can feel once again the joy of salvation, and the lightness—not weariness—of Christmas.

Ruth Cook is a longtime Texas Baptist. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Tradicionalmente, cuando nos encontramos con un artículo titulado «¿Dónde están ahora?», nos informan sobre dónde se encuentran en este momento personas con las que crecimos o que alguna vez fueron famosas.

Hoy, sin embargo, quiero compartir no solo dónde se encuentran ahora muchos graduados hispanos de escuelas afiliadas a los bautistas de Texas, sino también dónde podrían estar en el futuro.

Educación continua e impacto institucional

En primer lugar, nuestros graduados bautistas hispanos continúan su educación de grado y posgrado.

Un número cada vez mayor de estudiantes de nuestras instituciones reconoce el valor de obtener títulos avanzados para alcanzar el potencial para el cual Dios les creó y aumentar su impacto en el Reino. A menudo trabajan o sirven a tiempo completo para proveer para sus familias o pagar sus estudios, haciendo todo lo posible por evitar obtener préstamos educativos.

A medida que obtienen estos títulos, los graduados hispanos de las instituciones bautistas de Texas se están convirtiendo en profesores a tiempo completo o parcial.

Muchos también están asumiendo funciones de liderazgo en los lugares donde enseñan. Al hacerlo, aportan una perspectiva cultural muy necesaria, ya que nuestras instituciones buscan reclutar, retener y graduar a estudiantes de la población hispana en rápido crecimiento de nuestro estado, que ahora supera los 12 millones de personas.

Liderando la Iglesia

A medida que crece la población hispana, más iglesias de habla inglés reconocen la necesidad de ampliar estratégicamente sus esfuerzos para alcanzar a la comunidad circundante. Por lo tanto, están incorporando a graduados hispanos bilingües de nuestras instituciones para dirigir los ministerios «en español».

Estos ministerios «en español» no están aislados, sino que están plenamente integrados en la vida de toda la iglesia. El miembro hispano del personal suele ser reconocido como uno de los pastores de toda la iglesia y desempeña un papel clave en el presente y el futuro de la congregación.

Muchos consideran que este modelo de ministerio es una de las mejores formas de alcanzar a la población hispana actual. Algunas congregaciones están adoptando un enfoque aún más audaz al nombrar a un líder hispano bilingüe y bicultural como su pastor principal, un paso elogiable en la dirección correcta.

Los graduados hispanos de nuestras instituciones también están pastoreando iglesias bautistas hispanas en todo el estado. Más de 1,000 iglesias bautistas de Texas se identifican como hispanas, y me atrevería a decir que la mayoría están dirigidas por uno de nuestros graduados o han sido influenciadas de alguna manera por uno de ellos.

La gran mayoría de estos pastores son bivocacionales, balanceando el trabajo con el ministerio, para proveer mejor para sus familias, o sirven a tiempo completo en sus iglesias, confiando en que el Señor proveerá para sus necesidades básicas. Aun así, dirigen con todo su corazón las congregaciones a las que Dios les ha llamado, maximizando sus recursos limitados. Nuestros pastores son mis héroes.

Superando las expectativas

Si desea saber dónde sirven muchos otros graduados hispanos de nuestras escuelas, mire al personal de Texas Baptists.

Somos muy bendecidos con muchos hispanos en el personal y líderes ministeriales hispanos en todos los niveles, incluyendo a nuestro director ejecutivo, el Dr. Julio Guarneri.

Esta diversidad también se está haciendo una realidad en nuestras instituciones y otros ministerios con quienes colaboramos. La Baptist General Convention of Texas se parece cada vez más a la gente de nuestro estado, lo cual es clave en nuestro esfuerzo por ganar a los perdidos para Cristo.

Recientemente formamos un equipo para desarrollar un programa que apoye a estudiantes hispanos que cursan un doctorado en nuestras instituciones bautistas de Texas. El primer paso fue una encuesta para recopilar datos de bautistas hispanos actuales con doctorados sobre su jornada doctoral.

El objetivo es desarrollar un programa que proporcione ánimo, apoyo y entrenamiento a estudiantes doctorales hispanos que complemente su aprendizaje formal.

En total, 28 de los 32 doctores completaron la encuesta. Estas cifras tal vez no parecen mucho para algunos, pero cuando llegué a Texas hace casi 30 años, prácticamente se podían contar con los dedos de una mano los doctores bautistas hispanos. El hecho de que ahora haya más de 30 es absolutamente digno de celebración, aunque sin duda necesitamos más.

En todas partes

Si pensamos en todos los programas que ofrecen nuestras instituciones de educación superior, probablemente podemos decir que hay un graduado hispano en casi todas las carreras.

Los graduados hispanos de las universidades y seminarios bautistas de Texas desempeñan muchas otras funciones en las congregaciones; y también son plantadores de iglesias, misioneros, educadores, consejeros profesionales, líderes empresariales, emprendedores, músicos, médicos, ingenieros, trabajadores sociales y mucho más.

Están marcando una gran diferencia en su mundo y son un ejemplo extraordinario para quienes les siguen.

Así que, si me pregunta: «¿Dónde están ahora?», le respondería: «¡En todas partes!»

Gabriel Cortés es el director de educación hispana de Texas Baptists.

I once was on staff at a large church, not too far from where I serve now. One afternoon, I walked upstairs in our education building. The lights were off, but there was just enough natural light to make out our pastor, Mike, standing at the end of the hall. He wasn’t moving—just staring blankly out the window.

When I asked what he was doing, he shook his head slowly. He was frustrated. The trustees had refused to act on a decision the church already had voted to approve. He was leading well but meeting unnecessary pushback.

It wasn’t a matter of incompetence or poor leadership. It wasn’t “growing pains.” It was progress pains. I would come to experience the very same thing time and again in my own pastorates.

What are progress pains?

We’ve all heard of growing pains—the struggles of increasing size or scale. But progress pains are different. They’re the challenges, friction and resistance that naturally arise when an organization (or person) is getting healthier and maturing in depth, even if the improvement doesn’t show up as numerical growth.

Progress pains surface when a community begins to align more closely with its mission, when standards are raised, when hidden dysfunctions are addressed, when new patterns of health replace old habits of convenience. These changes are real but not always visible.

For leaders, this is uniquely draining. The adjustments you’re making often are small but necessary, and the resistance you encounter isn’t usually about logic. It’s about emotion and people’s comfort with change.

Unlike seasons of rapid growth, there are no flashy signs to energize you—no swelling crowds, no sudden surge of resources. Those may come later, but only if you and your people press through the struggle now.

Encouragements for leaders in the midst of progress pains

The content of Canoeing the Mountains, one of the best leadership books I’ve ever read, and my own experience as a pastor have taught me leading through progress pains requires four key commitments.

1. Start with conviction.

Before you step into a season of change, decide what is right. This isn’t just about what you will do, but also about who you are and what you’re about.

If you don’t carry a deep conviction about the change that’s needed, you’ll approach it loosely and without resolve. But if you are convinced the direction is right and necessary, nail it down, and keep remembering it when the resistance comes.

2. Stay close.

People react to change in unpredictable ways. Sometimes their pushback isn’t even about the issue at hand, but about old wounds, personal tensions or insecurities. Don’t let that create a gap between you and them.

Staying close doesn’t mean surrendering your convictions or catering to every insecurity, but it does mean providing a safe place for people to process their fears without breaking relationship.

3. Stay the course.

At some point, through prayer, counsel, wisdom and experience, you as a leader must chart the next steps your church or organization needs to take. That is the course.

It may require small adjustments along the way, but the overall direction must hold. You’ll hear many reasons to turn back or to stop halfway. One of the greatest temptations is to think, “This far is far enough.” But if the path is wise and right, don’t abandon it. Stay the course.

4. Stay calm.

This may be the most important one.

So much can be accomplished simply by refusing to panic. Fear will whisper that everything is falling apart. The enemy will use others to get your spirit all twisted up. Don’t give in.

Stay calm, keep perspective and, more often than not, you’ll find what felt impossible works itself out with time and steady faithfulness.

A final word

That’s why, in these moments, leaders must remember: Leading through progress pains means keeping your conviction clear, staying close to your people, carrying calm into anxious spaces, and staying the course when it would be easier to turn back.

Trust the process. It will work out.

Josh King is pastor of Valley Ridge Church, formerly known as First Baptist Church of Lewisville. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

“The children are the church now,” not just the church of the future, newly elected Baptist General Convention of Texas President Debbie Potter remarked in a phone interview.

Potter was elected president at the BGCT annual meeting in Abilene in November, after previously having served as both second vice president and first vice president.

Her election marks the first time a children’s pastor has served as BGCT president, she observed, noting the role most frequently has been filled by senior pastors or institutional executives. She also is the first ordained woman elected as president of the BGCT.

Potter has served 22 years as children’s pastor at Trinity Baptist Church in San Antonio after previously serving six years at Parkhills Baptist Church, also in San Antonio, where she was licensed to the ministry. Additionally, she teaches at Baptist University of the Américas.

Her drive to serve children and families has kept Potter in ministry even through difficult times.

“I get asked on a regular basis: ‘Why are you still here?’” she said.

She noted that being in her early 60s, some assume retirement is just around the bend for her, but Potter said she doesn’t see it that way.

On the contrary, Potter said she feels like she’s “just getting started,” though she noted she also is intentional about empowering up-and-coming ministry leaders to lead, within the children’s ministry department she oversees.

She is excited to lead the churches of the BGCT to do more to ease suffering among children and families in Texas, Potter noted.

Some recent government changes in Texas have increased needs among already vulnerable populations, she asserted.

“Our children and families are hurting,” Potter said, and she believes BGCT churches can do more to help.

Her own church, for example, has taken an active role in supporting families in their community by providing beds for infants and lockboxes to reduce accidental deaths from co-sleeping or kids getting into medications, she explained. Participants in Trinity Baptist’s Vacation Bible Schools have raised money for these causes through their offerings.

Potter also noted she personally provides support to Child Protective Services workers to aid them in performing some of the difficult duties only they are qualified to do.

“The BGCT does some great work,” Potter said, mentioning lobbying for policies and laws that “give children a voice” in Texas through the Christian Life Commission as an example.

“If we don’t help these vulnerable children, the Bible’s pretty clear,” she added. “These are the least of these. Jesus commands us to do this.”

So, she hopes the somewhat different message she will bring to the BGCT will lead to greater advocacy for children among the churches.

Controversy surrounding being an ordained woman

Potter said debate on social media surrounding her election was somewhat surprising, noting she told her husband, “I had no idea I was this interesting.”

But, she said, she has assured everyone who has expressed concern: “I knew what I was doing. My whole ministry has had these type of things.”

Unknown people on the internet who don’t know her or anything about her don’t bother her much, although when those who are close to her speak out against her ministry it does cause pain.

She finds the social media drama around her election somewhat “comical,” she said—that “I’m worth fighting over” is strange to think about.

Background

Potter is the third generation of pastors in her family, with her father and grandfather both having served as pastors.

She was “one of those strange children that really loved ministry from the beginning,” she said. She never resented going to church or the demands of ministry, she said, noting she was fascinated with her father’s ministry.

She gravitated toward it, she said, explaining whoever among Potter and her two sisters got to ride home from church each week with her dad—a privilege she tried to gain every week—was treated to discussion about ministry.

That time in the car was “when he really would talk about ministry … and what it involves.”

Those rides were special to her, Potter said, because she got a “real inside view into what ministry really is,” noting her dad didn’t just share “the good things” but also some of the “really bad things that happened to him during his ministry.”

The example he set was of a “true shepherd” who treated his congregation as his community, she noted, emphasizing a mutual investment in one another between that church body and her father and between the church and herself personally.

When she was in college at Southern Nazarene University, Potter said she believed the only path to ministry for her would be to marry a pastor, “so (she) could stay in the ministry, because that’s what (she) really loved.”

Accordingly, when she began dating her husband, he was a religion major. However, after much struggle and prayer, he confessed to her that though he wanted to, he did not feel he was called to ministry.

By then, “I’d already fallen in love with him,” she said with a laugh. They’ve now been married 39 years, and he is her biggest advocate and supporter.

After they married, Potter taught public school until a rift with the Nazarene denomination led them to visit and join a Baptist church. About a year into their membership in the Baptist church, Potter said, “I just knew I was called into ministry” to serve children.

She applied for a position as children’s ministry director at Parkhills Baptist Church, a Southern Baptist congregation, and “they hired me,” she said.

“I always say it’s like the David story,” she said, when the youngest son who wasn’t even brought in for consideration as king was the one God had in mind.

“I didn’t have a Baptist pedigree. I don’t have a degree from a Baptist university,” she recalled, but that pastor, Robert Welch, saw her love for children as “the key here.”

“He took a chance on me, and he hired me. And that changed my life,” Potter reflected.

In 1998, She was the first female minister to be licensed to ministry at Parkhills Baptist Church.

Later, at Trinity Baptist Church, she was ordained—a step she said at the time she simply saw as an honor, with no idea of “the things in (her) life that (being ordained) would open criticism for.”

Potter pointed out she’s never moved out of children’s ministry. But, she said about ordination, “I felt like it gave me a stronger voice at the table when our pastoral staff met.” With ordination she gained “all the credibility” the others at the table had.

Over almost 30 years of sitting at the ministry table advocating for the children, Potter said, she felt ordination gave her a stronger voice from which to advocate for children being understood as the youngest members of the church now—not just the church of the future.

“It was just an honor, and I wanted to be fully empowered to take care of our kids,” she said.

She felt like her ordination was important for the kids, but she wasn’t trying to do anything offensive to anybody, Potter said.

In addition to a master’s degree in education from University of Texas at San Antonio, Potter also holds a Ph.D. from Andrews University. She pointed out it is more education than she ever will be compensated for, but she sought the degree because she believes children deserve “the best” too.

Potter wanted to have every qualification she could earn to best serve her community in children’s ministry, she explained.

And having served with some of the same people in and through that ministry for 22 years, they feel a calling too, Potter noted. “These are my people,” she said.

Potter also acknowledged the value of her election to other young women in Baptist life who feel called to ministry and pointed out the real threat of gifted young women leaving to follow God if they can’t find a place to be affirmed in ministry in Baptist life.

“And that’s my whole story, and what is really going to continue to be my whole story,” she said, in her new role as BGCT president—advocating for children as a woman in ministry.