We don’t really want a perfect Christmas. We think we do. We think we want everything just so—all the decorations, the music, the weather, the travel, the food, the presents, the time with family and friends. But we don’t. Not if we stop and think about it.

Decorating for Christmas this year made me stop and think about it.

Imperfect lighting

I thought we were doing good. I thought we were ahead of the game. We got all of our Christmas decorations out and up on Black Friday. All of it.

And then, half a string of lights is out in the front yard, which I only saw after dark. Then, a string of soft white lights on our pre-lit Christmas tree went brilliant white and then out.

These should be simple fixes, but I know it will become like giving a mouse a cookie, and I don’t have the time or energy for that. After all, I need the time it would take to remove the strings of lights and replace them with new ones to write this editorial about the problems I’m having with Christmas lights.

Do you see the problem? Of course, you do. We often see other people’s problems better than we see our own.

The problem isn’t the lights. I mean, they are a problem, but of such minor significance. Prioritization is the greater problem.

*******

I wrote the preceding paragraphs a couple of weeks ago, thinking I would get a head start on a Christmas editorial. Two weeks later, I can report: I tried fixing the outside lights … without success. I didn’t bother with the lights on the tree.

I thought the lights being out was a problem, though one from which I could make an editorial. Now, I see they’re not a problem at all. Not after they got me thinking more deeply about Christmas.

Imperfect Christmas

Allowing the lights in our front yard and on our Christmas tree to be less than perfect enabled me to consider the fact so little was perfect about Jesus’ birth. From our perspective, anyway.

I mean, Mary wasn’t married, but she was going to be. Yet, she was pregnant … with someone else’s baby. Joseph was going to do what only made sense to him—call off the wedding. But he was going to do it quietly. He wasn’t going to make a stink of it.

Late in pregnancy, Mary had to travel under less-than-ideal conditions—compulsion by a foreign power and days on a dusty road, all while ready to deliver at seemingly any moment.

Joseph and Mary got where they were going only to find no room available. Whatever the actual accommodations were, they weren’t what guests were supposed to be given.

Jesus was born there and put in a manger. Not exactly a Sealy, Beautyrest or Tempur-Pedic.

I could list the other less-than-perfect details of the story, but by now you probably get the point without me needing to. The first Christmas—Jesus’ birth and the circumstances surrounding it—was not perfect. And that’s part of Christmas’ significance.

The significance of Christmas is Jesus was born into a less-than-perfect world under less-than-perfect circumstances to save less-than-perfect people—including you and me. An airbrushed, Photoshopped Christmas won’t do for that. Why? Because a perfect world is make-believe. At least, for now.

We think we want a perfect Christmas, but we really don’t. The imperfect one we have is the one that connects with all the imperfect places in our lives, as is true of the rest of Jesus’ life.

Perfect Savior

Jesus’ birth wasn’t the only less-than-perfect part of his life. Herod tried to kill him when he was a toddler. His family had to flee to Egypt to avoid that. When they moved back, they settled in Nazareth of all places. Nothing good came from Nazareth, so they said. Sometime later, Joseph disappeared.

As an adult, the devil harassed Jesus in the wilderness. His mom outed him to a wedding party. He didn’t have anywhere to call home. People seemed to want him only for his miracles. His closest friends didn’t understand him. The authorities stayed after him.

And the end? The end was a full-on dumpster fire. What part of being betrayed, arrested, beaten, mocked, “tried” by a kangaroo court, beaten and mocked some more, stripped and crucified in front of God and everybody amounts to our idea of a perfect day?

The only thing perfect about any of it is Jesus did all of it perfectly—from beginning to end.

*******

I’d like all the lights to be shining in my front yard and on our Christmas tree. But these literally and figuratively are tiny problems.

Much more, I’d like all that is wrong in this world—and there are monstrous wrongs in this world—to be made right already. No amount of airbrushing and Photoshopping will make that happen, though. The sooner we let go of that lie, the better.

What will make that happen is the Savior born to us who will return to us to make all things perfect.

Let us not ignore or pretend away the imperfections. Instead, let us allow them to point our attention to Jesus. That is the Christmas we want. That is the Christmas we need.

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.

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.

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.

This editorial will be a bit meta, as the kids say. It will be about what news and opinion is—a reflection on where we’ve been. Reflecting on reflecting is the “meta” part.

The days are full and fast. Yesterday’s gone. Tomorrow’s a breath away. The news cycle churns.

What are we doing with the time we hold in our hands like sand? What are we doing with the present?

Some of us are adding to the churn. There’s work to be done. If the present is all we really have, there’s urgency. We have to keep moving, stay busy.

Some of us hard drivers think of Scripture like Ecclesiastes 3—a time and a season for everything—and Psalm 1 or 119—meditating day and night—as applying to other people or as something we can do on the fly.

But does it? Can we? Do we?

Yesterday may be gone, but its importance is still alive and well, informing our today and tomorrow. We must not rush past yesterday.

We must give space and time to reflection, but reflection with a purpose.

Biblical history

As Bible-believing, Bible-preaching people—who also should be Bible-reading, Bible-studying people—the idea of reflecting on the past should not be a problem for us. That’s what the Bible is—reflection with a purpose.

Part of the Bible’s authority is its record of God’s interaction in human history. We are supposed to learn from that record and shape our lives by it. At least, that’s what we say we believe we should do with the Bible.

Yet, how much of our present do we give to learning and being shaped … by Scripture? We give plenty to being shaped by the world. So much of what we do is evidence of that.

Reflect on this: How many people do you know who quit attending worship because of the music or something the pastor said? You might be one of them.

While you reflect on that, take a look at this story of church leaders in the Democratic Republic of Congo trekking as much as 45 miles a week through deep mud just to copy a portion of Scripture to take back to their churches for Sunday worship.

Whose attitude and behavior yesterday best prepare them for tomorrow? This is the purpose of reflection.

I tell you, we must not rush past yesterday.

Reflecting on history

Part of what’s behind this editorial is my reading of Ukrainian history over the last couple of weeks. I’m trying to have better grasp of what informs Ukraine’s present. It’s a complicated history, and learning just how complicated it is has opened helpful windows of understanding.

We owe it to our brothers and sisters in Ukraine and elsewhere to understand more about their history, particularly as they face current hardship and especially as we take steps to come alongside them in their suffering.

Also, part of what’s behind this editorial is my reflecting on the business sessions of the 2025 Baptist General Convention of Texas annual meeting.

I’m not equating the situation in Ukraine with anything in the BGCT, though both have complicated and contested histories.

The vote for BGCT president and the vote on a motion to investigate Baylor University were close. In fact, the vote on the Baylor motion was very close. BGCT leadership—and the rest of us—need to reflect on why. There is important information for who the BGCT is and where the BGCT is going in that reflection.

BGCT reflection

Since there’s no real campaign for BGCT president, we don’t know why people voted for either Debbie Potter or Kevin Burrow. We do know of the 750 votes counted, 57 percent were for Potter and 43 percent were for Burrow. That’s pretty close. And worth reflection.

The vote on the Baylor motion was even closer. After a raised-ballot vote was too close to call, messengers were asked to stand and raise their ballots to vote. From my front-and-center seat, the standing ballot vote looked just as close, but I could not see the room as completely as could those on the platform. They ruled the opposition carried, and the motion failed.

I’m not calling into question the determination of the chair. I am saying when a vote is that close, we do well to try to understand why and to learn from it.

Votes are important. They provide us important information about who we are, where we’ve been and where we’re going. We ought to reflect on votes and their outcomes. This is all the more true when votes are very close.

Those in favor of the motion to investigate Baylor represented a fairly broad spectrum of messengers to the 2025 BGCT annual meeting. The previous day, very few of them voted in favor of a motion to defund Baylor. What tipped the balance so much between the two Baylor votes, and what does that indicate for the BGCT as a whole? That’s worth reflection.

I don’t know the answers with certainty, but I guarantee they are connected to our history.

Those who lead the BGCT shouldn’t rush past November.

Reflecting forward

Some of us reflect to a fault. We go beyond reflection to rumination. We get stuck in the past, try to live in the past. We live out the opposite side of Ecclesiastes 3 from the hard drivers. We don’t move forward. Forgetting about the future, we’re not even in the present.

Our reflecting on the past must move us toward the future. And a more productive future, at that.

As people of the Bible—shaped by the Bible—this should be second nature. After all, Israel’s past and biblical reflection on it all pointed forward to Jesus. From there, all reflection points forward to the restoration of all things in him. Yes, reflection has a purpose.

Advent is a season of reflective anticipation. Or it’s supposed to be. How much reflection are you doing this December? Me? It’s hard to do much reflection in such cluttered times. But I must give space and time to reflect on the necessary things in a forward direction.

Don’t rush past yesterday. Notice it. Reflect on it. Learn from it. Grow from it. It points to our future.

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.

Jane Kenyon was a poet and translator. She died young. Already, I am three years older than she was when leukemia took her. How many times in my life I also could have died young.

Her poem “Otherwise” is short. It is a powerful poem, because in simple, spare prose, it makes much of the overlooked and mundane. Through it, Kenyon expresses gratitude for everyday things many of us long since have taken for granted.

Things like getting out of bed in the morning, eating a bowl of cereal, seeing art on the walls of our home. Having a home.

You can listen to “Otherwise” here.

Kenyon knew it could be otherwise, all of it. She knew someday it would be. She wasn’t well.

I’m old enough now, I’ve experienced enough life, I’ve seen enough things go well enough to know and appreciate, to be thankful it wasn’t, it isn’t otherwise.

And I’m learning to be thankful still.

Thankful in all circumstances

One of our brothers returned to his home after the Baptist General Convention of Texas annual meeting in Abilene last week. His home is at war. It is otherwise for him. Yet, even in the midst of war, he and his fellow Ukrainians know it could be worse.

In so knowing, they teach us to be thankful in all circumstances.

Another of our brothers posted a video to Facebook last Thursday from an emergency room. On Tuesday, his wife had emergency gall bladder removal. On Thursday, he was back in the emergency room with his daughter after she was in a car accident. He was thankful for a seat belt.

“Yes … in spite [of] anything, we will be thankful. We need to be thankful. There is so much to be thankful for,” he said.

“Even if it’s hard, even if it’s unsettling, if life throws things at you, we come before the Lord, we pray together, we ask for help, and we thank [him] for things we already have,” he concluded, encouraging those watching to come celebrate with his church.

Our brother teaches me to be thankful amid all circumstances.

Are we thankful?

What about us? What do we take for granted? What, who have we grown so accustomed to in our lives that we have forgotten to be grateful for them, that we fail to imagine it could be otherwise?

We simply don’t see so much of what we ought to be, can be thankful for. Many times because we don’t look through the irritations, the inconveniences, the frustrations common to all of us. More than anything, that’s my problem when it comes to thankfulness.

Lord, thank you that the bad isn’t as bad as it could be, and thank you for the good that doesn’t have to be at all.

Some of what I’m thankful for

I am thankful for the Baptist Standard staff. Each person loves the Lord and cares deeply for people.

I am thankful for the Baptist Standard board. They are great encouragers, on top of being great leaders in their respective places of service.

I am thankful for our donors, who do far more than help pay our bills. They fuel us to pursue our mission.

I take none of them for granted.

Because I know it could be otherwise.

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.

“The local church is the hope of the world.”

I heard this more than once during the last couple of days.

“The local church is the hope of the world.”

Sometimes, it’s hard to see that.

That’s a hard word, but I have to be honest. Church, sometimes we’re the problem.

I know this stings. I know this hurts. The treatment often does, and I mean this as treatment, as medicine—to get better, to be well.

I also heard more than once, “The church at its birth was the church at its best.”

Oh, the jab of “was.” Is our best really “was?”

Lord, help us. May it not be so.

Can the church at 2,000 years be the church just reaching its stride?

Lord, help us. May it be so.

But, alas, there’s so much history—too much history—to the contrary.

Alas, church, we so often have been the problem.

Here. Take a sip of medicine.

*******

Like a person who wants to eat everything bad and live everything good and somehow stay healthy, we have come to think we can nod our heads at the preaching and go on ignoring the teaching, believing none will be the wiser.

But just like a person letting themselves go is obvious to anyone with eyes to see, so is the church’s neglect of its own Scripture obvious to the world.

Yes, we agree that to love God with our whole heart, mind, soul and strength and to love our neighbor is the greatest commandment, but we have yet to believe it with all that we do and think and feel.

Oh, yes, we proclaim going and making disciples of all people, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, is our greatest commission, but we haven’t cleared our schedules yet to do it.

It’s bad enough when it’s just me. It’s worse when it’s the church.

When it’s us together neglecting the doing of our professing, the gross effect is … gross. The Christ-deficient individual is magnified in the Christ-deficient church.

Who are you calling “Christ-deficient,” editor?

Sometimes, the medicine upsets the stomach.

*******

Our bickering, our complacency, our enculturation, our pride, our entitlement, our so-called faith without our faith in action—these are our Christ-deficiency.

These are the decay poisoning our blood, rotting our bones, atrophying our muscles, eroding our minds and our lives. These are the proof we are not remaining in Christ, that we are neglecting what we profess to believe.

We are Christ-deficient when we chase satisfaction and ignore sanctification.

We are Christ-deficient when anger overruns reason and fear siphons off courage.

We are Christ-deficient when we point the finger of judgment instead of extending the hand of compassion, when we are stingy with grace and mercy and liberal with condemnation.

We are Christ-deficient when we put more stock in worldly power than in taking the position of the worldly powerless.

A Christ-deficient church is made of Christ-deficient individuals. We are Christ-deficient when you or I am Christ-deficient. So, the cure is for me and for us.

Sip. Cough. Yep, the medicine is bitter. If we’ve lost the taste for grace.

There is grace here, and grace is powerful, even if the medicine is bitter.

*******

Grace is this: Christ-deficiency is absolutely curable.

Oh, the sweet grace of Christ-sufficiency.

The cure is confession—honest and specific confession.

The cure is repentance—full and complete repentance.

The cure is Christ himself.

“To live is Christ.”

“I no longer live. It is Christ who lives in me.”

“Put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh.”

When we put on Christ, when Christ lives in us, we obey Christ’s commands.

When we obey Christ’s commands, we put on Christ, and he lives in us.

That bitter medicine is not so bitter after all. No, this is good medicine. And we must take it alone and together if the church really is to be the hope of the world, if the church again is to be the church at its best.

Oh, but grace is more.

Grace is this: Even when we don’t take the medicine, Christ is risen and alive and powerful and active and at work in this world. And that is grace for the world. Because Christ is the hope of the world. Even when the church isn’t quite there with him.

Ah, but when we are, my, my, my. When we are there with him, we are hope alive in the world, a light all can see through the darkness.

Grace is this: Even as some of us have yet to take the medicine, others have, and though they may not be completely cured yet, they are the radiance of Christ in the dark places all too common in our world.

That we would all join them.

*******

Church, while we celebrate what we have done right in the world, we also must not deny what we have done wrong.

We have enacted the Great Commission, however imperfectly, leading many millions to hope, to salvation, to life. We have embodied the Great Commandment, however incompletely, extending God’s compassion to multitudes. These are rightfully celebrated.

We also are right to examine our imperfection and incompleteness, acknowledging the Great Commission and Great Commandment are for us, too, that we are not finished being made disciples, nor are we finished loving the Lord with our whole selves or loving our neighbor.

Church, sometimes we have been the problem, but not always. Sometimes, Christ alive in us has been the solution when there was no other way.

Lord, may this be true in us again. And again and again, until there is no need anymore.

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.

Our annual meeting is just a few days away. I say “our” because I am a Texas Baptist.

And by “Texas Baptist,” I mean I’m part of the Baptist General Convention of Texas.

Not because I’m the editor of the Baptist Standard. Baptist Standard Publishing is an independent partner of the BGCT, part of which means we have editorial independence and part of which means I am not a BGCT employee.

I’m part of the BGCT by virtue of being a member of First Baptist Church in Plano, a solidly BGCT church.

Since my family joined the church, I have been elected by First Baptist Plano to be a messenger to BGCT annual meetings. Before that, I was a messenger to BGCT annual meetings from the church I served as pastor.

Why am I a messenger? Because messengers vote. I want to have a voice in BGCT governance. I went to the annual meetings, and I voted. I will go and vote this year, too.

Before that, I attended BGCT annual meetings with my father-in-law Glenn Ward, who wouldn’t miss an annual meeting for the world, though he did miss one while undergoing treatment for pancreatic cancer.

My father-in-law believed in the BGCT so much that he invested in it for decades—serving it as an Executive Board member, serving with it through missions, promoting it and supporting it.

He didn’t just talk about the BGCT. He lived the BGCT. He didn’t think the BGCT was perfect, but he absolutely believed the BGCT was worth his investment.

The BGCT needs a lot more Glenn Wards.

We can start by showing up to the 2025 BGCT annual meeting in Abilene Nov. 16-18. Beyond showing up, those of us who are messengers can shape the BGCT with our votes.

What’s to shape?

Over the last few years, messengers have voted on statements of faith, institutional relationships, ministry roles, board and committee makeup, budgets, and leadership. Messengers decided it all—from the most controversial and consequential to the most mundane.

In recent years, messengers decided motions on affirming women in ministry, a motion on whether to affirm the 2000 Baptist Faith and Message, and a motion to amend the GC2 statement of faith. Even with these recent decisions, the same issues are still in play.

Two nominations for BGCT president are expected—Debbie Potter and Kevin Burrow. Anyone who’s followed the discussion on women in ministry within the Southern Baptist Convention, the BGCT and the Baptist Standard understands part of the significance of these nominations. For those who haven’t: Both are ordained. Both carry the title “pastor.” (See note at end of editorial.)

Some—like Kody Alvarez, pastor of Oak Grove Baptist Church in China Spring, dually aligned with the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention, and Jordan Villanueva, instructor of Christian Studies at Howard Payne University—still have questions about GC2 that may surface during the 2025 BGCT annual meeting.

Their questions revolve around denominational identity, doctrine, how GC2 is structured and language describing GC2—such as “centrist.” You can find a series of articles here on what “centrist” means.

Texas Baptists Executive Director Julio Guarneri has responded to questions about GC2, faith statements and women in ministry in his Oct. 15 and Nov. 7 weekly updates.

You can read his responses and decide for yourself if you still have questions. If you do, you can voice your questions during the annual meeting. If you are a messenger, you also can vote your convictions on these matters.

What to do

To vote our convictions on these and other matters, we need to know our convictions before arriving at the annual meeting.

We need to employ the historic Baptist principle of soul competency—“the God-given freedom and ability of persons to know and respond to God’s will,” as Bill Pinson defines it.

We need to read up on the issues. One way to do that is to read the various articles linked in this editorial. The linked articles don’t address all the issues, and they won’t answer all our questions, but they will provide some important information.

We need to study what Scripture says about the issues. We face these issues wanting to be obedient to Scripture, to walk in step with biblical conviction as guided by the Holy Spirit.

One of the reasons Baptists debate and even fight over some things—OK, so many things—is because we take the Bible seriously and want to be true to our understanding of it. Evangelism, missions, how we do church and how we do all of this together—we take these to be Bible issues, obedience to Scripture issues. So, yes, study Scripture before the annual meeting.

We need to pray—before and during the annual meeting. We need to ask the Holy Spirit to speak and to direct us. We need to ask for discernment, especially with the more heated issues.

We need to talk with others—those who agree with us and who disagree with us. We need to hear wise counsel from mature Christians.

We need to take all of this together, we need to show up, and we need to vote.

What I think

I have my opinions and convictions about the issues. It might be hard to believe, but not all Texas Baptists agree with my opinions and convictions. Thankfully, complete agreement isn’t necessary.

One reason I’m a Texas Baptist is because we who agree and disagree are going to meet together next week. We’re going to worship together, pray together, eat together, vote together, and my hope is we will leave together, not in lockstep, but still joined together in Jesus Christ and his Spirit to work together, communicating his gospel in word and deed.

May it be so.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Kevin Burrow commented on Facebook in response to this editorial, which is now published with permission as a Letter to the Editor. He correctly pointed out that I did not make clear his intentions for accepting a nomination for president of the BGCT.

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.

I support and protest President Trump’s words this week.

I support his designation of Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern. The unchecked violence against Christians in the Middle Belt and Northern states of Nigeria warrants this designation.

I protest his threats of military action in Nigeria and his blanket disparagement of the country.

What I support

My support for Trump designating Nigeria a Country of Particular Concern is based primarily on historic Baptist principles—namely, our centuries-long commitment to religious freedom—and secondarily on law—specifically, the International Religious Freedom Act.

Egregious violations of religious freedom and human dignity have occurred in Nigeria for many years—against Christians and Muslims. Our Christian brothers and sisters in Nigeria have been crying out for an end to violence against them. I heard them do so while I was in Lagos, Nigeria, in 2024.

Designating Nigeria a Country of Particular Concern enables the U.S. government to apply additional pressure on the Nigerian government to put a stop to the ongoing violence. The options for additional pressure outlined in IRFA are significant and should be exhausted before even a suggestion of military action. But Trump blew past mere suggestion this week.

Yes, we want to see an end to violence against Christians and others in Nigeria. The Baptist Standard has carried several reports over the last several years reporting on that violence. Just search “Nigeria” on our website.

We also want to see an end to violence against Christians and others in Burma/Myanmar, Iran, Pakistan, China, Russia, India and elsewhere—without warfare.

We have been aware the violence in Nigeria is not limited to Christians and is more than strictly religious in nature, as the Nigerian government would like us to make clear. Those realities don’t minimize our concern for our fellow Christians in Nigeria and for religious freedom there. But how we carry out our concern matters.

What I protest

I protest how Trump carried out such concern on social media this week.

I protest Trump calling Nigeria a “disgraced country.”

To apply “disgraced country” as a blanket label to Nigeria is to disparage more than 232 million people in one swipe. It is to reject the honorable lives of millions of Nigerians in their own country and throughout the world—including our Nigerian brothers and sisters in Christ.

It may be Trump meant to disparage only the Nigerian government, in which case he simply could have left off “now disgraced:” “The U.S.A. … may very well go into that country,” or better: “The U.S.A. … may very well go into Nigeria.”

But for reasons beyond this editorial—such as Afghanistan, Iraq and Vietnam, to name only three—the U.S.A. should not go into Nigeria militarily.

That said, I protest Trump’s threats to “go into [Nigeria] ‘guns a-blazing’” and to carry out a “fast, vicious, and sweet” attack. There are many reasons to reject such language—moral, political, tactical and otherwise. My principal reason is Christian.

No attack is “sweet.” To call an attack “sweet” is to revel in violence, which is its own disgrace.

Furthermore, to threaten a “fast, vicious, and sweet” attack with “guns a-blazing” may endanger “CHERISHED Christians” in Nigeria even further. “The terrorist thugs,” so labeled, may go further to make good on the label. Such language is irresponsible and unnecessary provocation.

Support and protest

The U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom first recommended Nigeria for Country of Particular Concern designation in 2009 for reasons we have reported on several times.

Prior to that, Nigeria was on the Special Watch List described in the International Religious Freedom Act. Countries the U.S. president determines do not meet the threshold for CPC designation, but where serious religious freedom violations are taking place, can be placed on the Special Watch List.

For multiple reasons—even broader than Nigeria—the situation in the middle and northern parts of Nigeria has not improved since 2009. Our brothers and sisters in Christ there have been crying out. We need to hear them.

We can agree with President Trump’s designation of Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern at the same time we disagree with his characterizations of Nigerians and descriptions of warfare. And we should. Our commitment to religious freedom compels us.

Brief explainer

To learn more about the Country of Particular Concern designation, you can read the International Religious Freedom Act here. IRFA passed into law by the U.S. Congress in 1998 and was amended in 2016 and again in 2024.

IRFA gives the U.S. president authority to designate a country as a Country of Particular Concern if “the government of that country has engaged in or tolerated particularly severe violations of religious freedom … during the preceding 12 months or longer.”

IRFA Section 2(3) provides a foundation for the act. Section 3(13) defines “particularly severe violations of religious freedom,” and Section 3(16) defines violations of religious freedom.

IRFA Section 405 outlines seven presidential actions a U.S. president may employ with Countries of Particular Concern. They are summarized in this 2021 U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom fact sheet.

Presidential actions available for a CPC designation include withdrawal or denial of financial, commercial or security assistance.

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.

“I was hungry, and you said it’s because I’m shiftless and lazy.”
“I was hungry, and you told me to get a job.”
“I was hungry, and you said it’s not your problem.”
“I was hungry, and you looked the other way. Literally.”
“I was hungry, and you fed me.”

Hunger is in the news, whether we’re talking about 42 million Americans eligible for SNAP benefits or 500,000-plus Gazans suffering from famine. By the way, the two situations are not equivalent.

One reason hunger is in the news is because the current political wrangling in the U.S. capital has the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits 42 million Americans rely on in its crosshairs.

This editorial is not about the politics involved, politics I consider cynical. This editorial is about clear biblical teaching on addressing hunger. In short, hunger should not exist among Christians, but it does. When Jesus asks us about that, he’s not going to ask which political party is to blame. He’s going to ask what you and I did about it.

What does Scripture say?

Most reading this already know what Jesus said about the sheep and goats. But I’m going to paraphrase it anyway.

“When the King arrives, he will sit on his throne and separate the blessed from the cursed.

“The blessed will be those who, when the King was hungry, fed him; thirsty, gave him something to drink; was a stranger, welcomed him; was naked, gave him clothes; was sick, took care of him; was in prison, visited him.

“The cursed didn’t do any of that.

“The blessed will say, ‘When did we do all of that?’

“And the King will say, ‘You did it to me when you did it for one of the least of these my brothers and sisters’” (Matthew 25:31-46).

I tell you, this passage haunts me and always has.

When Isaiah recorded God’s description of proper fasting, he wrote:

“Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen …
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” (Isaiah 58:6a, 7).

Twice in Leviticus, God’s law forbids harvesting every bit of food from the land. Instead, God’s people are to leave some for the poor and foreigner (Leviticus 19:9-10; 23:22).

The earliest church sold what they had “to give to anyone who had need” and “shared everything they had” so “there were no needy persons among them” (Acts 2:45; 4:32-35).

Scripture also instructs us to feed our enemies when they are hungry (Proverbs 25:21; Romans 12:20).

This is just a sampling of how Scripture says God’s people are to respond to hunger.

And hunger is all around us.

Hunger in the United States

If we look at just one number—42 million Americans—we do not have to look far to see a person needing food assistance. Forty-two million translates to roughly 12 percent of the U.S. population, or more than 1 in 10 Americans—or more than the entire population of Texas and Michigan combined.

We have among us in the most prosperous nation in history more people qualifying for food assistance than the population of each of 196 of the world’s 233 countries—including: Canada, Ukraine, Poland, Saudi Arabia, Venezuela, Australia, Somalia and many more.

Let that sink in.

The United States, at roughly $30 trillion, is the world’s largest economy by more than $20 trillion. By itself, Texas is the world’s eighth largest economy, at more than $7 trillion. How can we be so prosperous and so hungry at the same time?

Come on, y’all!

Add to this the fact the United States is so closely identified with Christianity, a faith built on Scripture like I quoted above, that we must face the charge we’re not putting our money where our mouth is.

Thank goodness that’s not true of all of us.

What is expected of us

This editorial isn’t about politics, but I am going to say a word about politics.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture’s home page this morning, Oct. 29, stated: “Bottom line, the well has run dry.” The bold announcement at the top of the USDA home page placed full blame on Senate Democrats for the stoppage of SNAP benefits effective Nov. 1.

Christians, we cannot allow ourselves to be sucked into the current blame game and name-calling between Republicans and Democrats. We as Christians are commanded to live beyond and better than that.

Part of living beyond and better than that is being concerned about hunger without political footballing, being concerned about hunger even when it’s not in the news, being concerned enough about hunger to do something about it ourselves.

Examples we can follow

One thing we can do is fast from feeding our consumer economy so we can feed our neighbors. We Christians spend a lot of money on entertainment, creature comforts and the latest greatest, while criticizing our government for how it spends our tax dollars. We can do better.

A food truck in the Four Corners area of New Mexico posted on Facebook, Oct. 27: “Starting Nov. 1st We will be offering a 4pc boneless wings to kids 15 and under on us! No purchase and no questions asked. Kids must be present and limit 1 per child. Just ask for the ‘Kid Special’ and we’ll take care of you” (emphasis added, because Jesus didn’t ask questions either)!

A follower responded: “Alright-this is our sign to take care of businesses that take care of community. Let’s FLOOD their food truck with support!!!”

Christians have restaurateurs among us. Surely, we can help them help others like that.

When my wife and I were seminary students 25 years ago, we went through a period when money was tight. This is a common experience among seminary students. Thanks to the Sutherland family’s feeding ministry, we were able to fill in some food staples. That ministry still operates today. May their tribe increase.

I am thankful for food banks, food pantries, feeding ministries and others doing their part to alleviate hunger. They need our help.

And we need to do more than make feeding the hungry a weekend project. We need to include it in our budgeting, our earning and our spending. We need to make it our way of living.

*******

To learn about hunger and its effects, view this fact sheet. To learn more about ways you can help alleviate hunger, view this information from the Baylor Collaborative on Hunger and Poverty or visit the Texas Baptist Hunger Offering website.

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.

I’m about to preach.

A few million people participated in No Kings rallies and protests on Oct. 18.

President Donald Trump responded to them with a video posted on his Truth Social profile.

Christians do have a King, and Trump isn’t him.

Our King—Jesus—is plenty clear about how we are to respond to those who oppose us.

We Christians need to follow our King’s lead, not our president’s.

We begin by remembering we do have one King. He is Jesus, and he has expectations of us.

Our King’s example

King Jesus said, “If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also” (Matthew 5:39b).

When Jesus’ hometown crowd became furious with him, “drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill … to throw him off the cliff … he walked right through the crowd and went on his way” (Luke 4:28-30).

When Judas came to betray Jesus with a kiss, “Jesus replied, ‘Do what you came for, friend’” (Matthew 26:50a).

When Jesus was about to be arrested, one of his followers cut off the right ear of a man there to arrest him. “No more of this,” Jesus said and healed the man’s ear (Luke 22:49-51).

When they arrested him, Jesus did not resist.

When the guards beat and mocked Jesus, he did not curse them.

When Pilate questioned him, he did not lash out.

When Herod needled him and “the chief priests and the teachers of the law were … vehemently accusing him,” he said not a word (Luke 23:9-10).

When Herod and his soldiers “ridiculed and mocked him,” he did not retaliate.

When Jesus was spit on, he did not spit back.

When the crowd called for his execution—a most horrid execution—he said nothing.

As he was hung, exposed, on the cross and was insulted mercilessly, he asked God to forgive the people doing it (Luke 23:34).

Jesus died on that cross. Jesus was buried. And after three days, Jesus rose to life again.

After Jesus rose from the dead, he did not seek revenge.

I tell you, we have one King, and Trump is not him.

Our King’s command

The religious authorities were always trying to trap Jesus.

“One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: ‘Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?’

“Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments’” (Matthew 22:35-40).

In his famed Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught: “In everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 7:12).

In that same sermon, Jesus said: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:43-44).

Jesus also said we will recognize true prophets of God by what they produce (Matthew 7:15-20), and the wise put Jesus’ words into practice (Matthew 7:24-27).

Jesus’ last instruction before returning to heaven was to “go and make disciples of all [people] … teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:19-20).

I’ve quoted a lot of Scripture in this editorial, and that’s because we do have one King, and Trump is not him. Our King is Jesus.

I told you I was going to preach.

So, what are we going to do?

Every good sermon—or editorial—ends with practical application. I’m not saying I’ve preached a lot of good sermons or written a lot of good editorials. I’m just saying the good ones end with practical application.

Trump ran on grievance and revenge, and he was elected—twice. He owes his first presidency and his second to the votes of millions of Christians. I am not pointing a finger at you. I am saying Christians have a responsibility in this moment.

Our responsibility is to obey our King, and he is Jesus.

We obey our King by guarding how we talk about those who don’t think or vote like us. In keeping with what Jesus taught in his most famous sermon, we even must guard our thoughts against fantasies of revenge. The video Trump posted on Truth Social indulges in a vile fantasy of revenge.

In our speaking about our perceived opponents, we must not denigrate or dehumanize them. Even harder, we must not even think about them in dehumanizing ways. What is a dehumanizing way to regard opponents? Airdropping feces on them is a clear example.

The other side of what we shouldn’t do—dehumanize others—is what we should do. Here, we can take a cue from Jesus and a cue from Paul. Not from me. I don’t offer myself as an example here.

When we find ourselves surrounded by hostility aimed at us, we can walk through the crowd without a word. If Jesus didn’t see the need to defend himself with equal hostility, then we don’t need to either.

When others curse us and mock us—what we might loosely call “persecution”—instead of cursing those who curse us, instead of repaying evil for evil, we can bless them (Romans 12:14, 17). And, yes, this goes both ways.

It won’t be easy, but we’ve never found it easy to bow to a king.

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.

October is Pastor Appreciation Month. How are you appreciating your pastor? If more than one pastor or minister serves your church, how are you appreciating all of them—men and women?

I know. What other profession gets a whole month of appreciation? Administrative professionals only get one day. Why do pastors need a whole month?

For one, how many other professions are 24/7, 365 days a year, 366 in a leap year? Your pastor works far more than 30 minutes on Sunday mornings.

How many other professions marry you, bury you, baptize you, disciple you, dedicate your newborns, rejoice with you one moment and mourn with you the next, and carry the weight of communicating God’s word week after week after week alongside the fear of leading anyone astray?

How many other professions are measured by budgets, baptisms and, ahem, bodies in seats because the real fruit is intangible, often takes so long to appear and is out of the “professional’s” control?

And how about those pastors and ministers who do all of this while also working one or two other jobs? What about bivocational ministers?

October is Pastor Appreciation Month. Today, I’m giving a shout out to bivocational pastors and ministers. Frankly, you amaze me.

By the numbers

Bivocational ministers and their churches often feel invisible. Larger churches tend to be more prominent. Their leaders tend to headline the conferences and conventions, sending the unintended message that smaller, part-time or bivocational churches don’t have as much to offer, aren’t as important.

We like to measure importance by the numbers. So, let’s consider some numbers.

Ira Antoine, Texas Baptists’ director of bivocational ministry, reports about 60 percent of churches affiliated with the Baptist General Convention of Texas are bivocational. Among Hispanic and African American BGCT churches, 90 percent are bivocational. International churches also are mostly bivocational. And bivocational is the growing edge of all ministry.

The BGCT reports 5,300 churches. That means almost 3,200 BGCT churches are bivocational. There are many whole Christian denominations with far fewer churches than that—among them, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), with which Texas Christian University is affiliated, Presbyterian Church in America and Salvation Army.

While individual bivocational congregations may feel invisible, by sheer numbers they clearly should not be ignored.

But bivocational churches and their ministers are so much more than the numbers.

What is ‘bivocational?’

Antoine defines a bivocational minister as “one who works outside the church to provide suitable financial stability for the family. This includes retirees who continue in ministry while drawing retirement income.”

Bivocational ministers who are not retired work full- or part-time jobs in any number of other fields. They are teachers, bus drivers, coaches, doctors, lawyers, business owners, delivery drivers, insurance agents, carpenters, electricians, plumbers, chaplains, funeral directors, scientists, physicians, IT specialists, landscapers, denominational employees and more.

Some bivocational ministers receive some income from the churches they serve. Many serve churches too small to provide any income to their ministers. To make ends meet, plenty of bivocational ministers work one or more jobs outside the church. Which means they have all the same pressures full-time ministers experience and even less time off.

Why in the world would anyone do this? Are they crazy? Is something wrong with them? Well, no, not any more than the rest of us.

So, why would a person willingly serve in what seems to be such a thankless position?

One, because God called them.
Two, because they are fiercely committed to God.
Three, because they are passionate about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Four, because though it may be exhausting, it isn’t thankless.

I’ll say it again: Bivocational ministers amaze me.

Shout out

There’s a Congolese refugee who drives a cargo truck back and forth across Texas at night so he can serve as his church’s pastor during the day.

There’s a fire inspector who made his living traveling the United States investigating fires for an insurance company so he could serve his church without burdening it with his financial needs.

There is a suburban man teaching in an urban public school to ensure his congregation doesn’t go without spiritual leadership.

There are three international co-pastors following God’s call to their diaspora communities in Texas while also continuing to minister to their countries of origin.

These are just four stories of thousands that can be told. These stories, by their brevity, make bivocational ministry sound easy—or at least easier than it is. No, bivocational ministry is not easy. Not at all.

These stories also might make bivocational ministers sound like superheroes. In my book, they are heroic, though not superheroic. Bivocational ministers are not comic book characters and don’t want to be.

To the bivocational men and women serving our churches: Thank you for following God’s call, even where there’s no spotlight. Thank you for being willing to give your all to that call. Thank you for continuing to pursue it and push through when the results don’t seem to match the effort, when it is more than hard … and it’s often more than hard. You amaze me.

It’s Pastor Appreciation Month. Your ministers don’t need another tie or corsage. Taking your minister to lunch is nice. Giving your minister a vacation is better. But if you really want to show your appreciation, put your hand to the plow and labor with them … so they can actually take that vacation.

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.

CAUTION: This editorial discusses sexual abuse and its consequences.

Two Dallas-area megachurch pastors made the news during the last week. Their stories give us a chance to think about how we respond when pastors sin.

Two megachurch pastors

On Oct. 5, following a restoration process after admitting a year ago to an undisclosed sin, Tony Evans told his congregation he would not return to lead Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship, the church he founded.

On Oct. 2, Robert Morris, founder of Gateway Church, pleaded guilty in an Oklahoma courtroom “to five counts of lewd and indecent acts with a child” he committed in the 1980s. He resigned from Gateway in June 2024 after Cindy Clemishire accused him of molesting her.

Stories like these have been too common over the last several years. They raise important questions about how Christian leaders should be held accountable for their sin, what that accountability should be, when or if a Christian leader can or should be restored, and what restoration should be.

A Baptist Standard reader asked me some of those questions the day after Morris was escorted out of the courtroom by Osage County sheriff’s deputies.

Questions

The reader, who gave me permission to include his questions here, asked me: “Since there is no evidence of any similar activity” by Morris in the last 40 years, and since he went on to grow a prominent church, “when does your past sin stop following you while you are building good things on behalf of God?”

I feel you bristling. While you bristle, consider that the questioner is trying honestly to grapple with the messy meeting of sin, accountability and reconciliation. We all need to grapple honestly with this.

In answer to the question, though: Morris’ sin didn’t need Clemishire’s accusation to pick up his scent and start following him. His sin followed him just fine on its own all those 40-plus years. That’s what unconfessed sin does.

If a person kept sinning, our reader continued, he shouldn’t be in ministry.

Some would say Morris did keep sinning by not telling the truth for 40-plus years.

“Should something that was committed 40 years ago be enough to stop anyone from repenting and going forward in the name of God? When does he recover?” our reader concluded.

By the time I got to the end of our reader’s email, I had so many thoughts lining up in my mind that I opted to take the weekend before responding. And when I did, I still couldn’t address all the questions adequately. I can’t here, either. We need a conversation for that.

We can start, however, by looking at similarities and differences in Evans’ and Morris’ stories. The similarities in their stories are striking, but they pale in comparison to the significant differences.

Comparing situations

Evans’ sin, still publicly undisclosed, seems to have occurred recently. Morris’ sin occurred more than 40 years ago.

Evans maintains his sin was not a criminal act. Morris’ sin absolutely was criminal, punishable by the state.

As far as we know, Evans admitted his sin on his own and took himself out of church leadership.

Two days after Clemishire’s accusation, Morris told The Christian Post he “was involved in inappropriate sexual behavior with a young lady” while in his early 20s. He left out how old she was. When Clemishire’s accusation made that detail known, Gateway leadership said Morris had confessed to “a moral failure,” but they had “no idea the person involved was a minor.”

Evans underwent a restoration process. Morris may or may not do so, unless one thinks incarceration and sex-offender registration is a restoration process. It is not.

At the conclusion of his restoration process, it was announced Evans announced would not return to staff or leadership role at Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship. Morris, well, we’re not that far yet into Morris’ story.

How long?

Let’s go back to the questions our reader posed and focus as he did on Morris.

Should there be a statute of limitations for Christians? Going back to the facts of Morris’ story: Morris wasn’t forthright about what he did until he was publicly accused. Meanwhile, his sin impacted Clemishire for a full 40 years and more. As the old spiritual says, “You can run on for a long time, but sooner or later, God’ll cut you down.”

About repentance: Nothing and no one can stop a person from repenting, but repentance is different than accountability. Repent or not, we’re still accountable for our sin. When that sin violates human law—which Morris’ did—we’re also accountable to the state.

How about forgiveness? Should Morris be forgiven? While Scripture tells us to forgive those who sin against us, this again is a different thing than accountability. We need to let go of the fallacy that holding people accountable for their sin negates forgiveness.

Sexual abuse is wrong; it is evil. Sexual abuse is sin, and sin has consequences.

Sexual abuse harms a person in profound ways that are not easy to “just get over.” Clemishire has lived more than 40 years with the consequences of Morris’ sin. Anyone who thinks she hasn’t worked on “getting over it” doesn’t know what sexual abuse does to a person or how much work she’s likely done.

Restoration?

And then there’s that last question: “When does he recover?”

That question really sent my mind to work. First, what do we mean by “recover?” Sometimes, we use “recover” and “restore” interchangeably. Their definitions typically are person- and situation-specific.

Second, recovery or restoration is not the same thing as returning to a ministry position, much less one so prominent, though a person eventually might serve in a completely different capacity. This doesn’t mean that person hasn’t recovered or been restored. Also, just because a person is “restored,” doesn’t mean that person has “recovered.”

If I was making the decision, I would not return Morris to the pulpit and absolutely would not give him leadership over minors.

I still haven’t answered “when.” We need a conversation for that, and the affected people need to be part of it. We can’t do that in an email thread or editorial.

Tony Evans and Robert Morris are two very public and prominent figures. They’ve held themselves up to countless people for decades as examples of Christian living. We ought to learn from them now, even if we’d rather not have to learn how to face a pastor’s sin, or our own.

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.