“There’s a lot of actors in need of prayers. And I’m one of them.”

Anthony Michael Hall

Actor, on his religious upbringing (Busted Halo/RNS)

“Our Father is not a cosmic killjoy looking for ways to oppress us, or a legalistic taskmaster enforcing arbitrary rules. He made us and knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows what will give our lives meaning and purpose and what will steal our joy. We are like children fascinated by an electric socket or butcher knife. We need God’s direction more than we know.”

Jim Denison

GodIssues.org

“They won’t give up. Those who believe in it will continue to believe.”

Luigi Garlaschelli

Leader of a group of scientists who have reproduced the Shroud of Turin, which has been revered as the burial cloth of Jesus. The Italian chemistry professor described how he thinks those who believe the shroud is authentic will react to the scientific work (AP/RNS)

Our nation was stunned by the news of the shootings at Fort Hood that took the lives of 13 soldiers and wounded many others. The soldiers died within the security of the world’s largest military base, where they should have felt safe. Even school children were in lockdown on the base for hours while officials sought to evaluate the situation. Families waited to learn the fate of their loved ones.

Soldiers at Fort Hood are familiar with combat. Hundreds of troops previously stationed there already have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. Yet this murderous rampage was not by an enemy on a foreign battlefield. The perpetrator was one of their own.

Millions watched the memorial service at Fort Hood when President Obama paid tribute to these fallen heroes. Gen. George Casey, the Army chief of staff, quoted Isaiah 6:8: “Here am I. Send me,” reminding us that all who serve our country through the military do so as volunteers. These brave men and women risk lives, spend time away from families and face untold challenges because they choose to protect the rest of us.

Col. Mike Lembke, chief of chaplains at Fort Hood, read Isaiah 40:31: “Yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary.” These words of comfort will be needed by all who mourn during the weeks, months and even years ahead.

God’s words were very appropriate to all who were affected by these recent events. Yet the context of these verses is for those who serve the Lord. We are reminded that we, too, are involved in conflict. Just as soldiers are asked to pay a high price for service, Christ-followers also must be willing to give our lives.

Soldiers and family members were greeting one another as they milled around waiting for the memorial service to begin. Yet when the service started, the mood was serious and somber.

Folks will gather in Houston this week for our annual meeting. We will have times of fellowship, worship and reports. There will be plenty of laughter, stories and meals. However, at some point, we need to be reminded that we, too, have a mission.

We are to make disciples of all the nations. Almost 12 million Texans claim no church affiliation. Millions more give no evidence of knowing Christ.

Someone must share the hope of Christ with them.

We must go into the inner cities, the prisons, the apartments, the suburbs, the barrios and the colonias sharing the hope of Christ. We must go to the gangs and the CEOs, men and women, adults and children, folks of all races and ethnic heritage and let them know of the love and forgiveness of Christ.

Obedience to this commission may be costly. Folks in Texas and throughout the world do not know Christ.

God continues to call and waits to hear our reply: “Here am I. Send me.”

Randel Everett is executive director of the Baptist General Convention of Texas Executive Board.

The tsunami of change that struck the Western world in the 20th century permanently altered the cultural landscape. The emerging church addresses this postmodern context. Most Baptists will have to jettison some modernist baggage—but not their core Baptist identity—to stay afloat in the new era.

The emerging church relates heavily to postmoderns, those for whom reality “ain’t what it used to be.” Such a church may (a) consist primarily of postmoderns, (b) include postmoderns in a mix of age groups or (c) be non-postmodern but minister to postmoderns.

Postmoderns are a bridge generation between the receding modernist view and its emerging replacement. Moderns accept reality as a set of interconnected truths that, if logically arranged, reveal a single picture of reality. For moderns, reality is like a jigsaw puzzle. Each piece has a fixed place in the single image on the puzzle’s box top. By the end of the 20th century, many found any single “box top” explanation unconvincing: Science both threatened and enhanced life; capitalism and Marxism failed to end poverty or satisfy human need; and world religions proclaimed peace but stoked violent divisions.

Postmoderns have abandoned big-picture reality. Either it does not exist, or it cannot be proven by a logical system of propositions—known as a “meta-narrative.” Postmoderns’ reality is more like a set of children’s building blocks than a jigsaw puzzle. The blocks have meaning according to their context in a particular construct. Truth is established through local relationship more than rational, universal application.

Emerging church leader Brian McLaren said, “If you have a new world, you need a new church.” A conversation in the 1990s among young Protestant evangelicals about the church in a postmodern world developed into a movement that birthed a few institutions, most prominently the Emergent Village. The emerging, or emergent, church movement is so varied it defies definition. It is everywhere Christians intentionally engage the future church on postmodern terms.

The movement, like the original Baptist movement, is a marginalized, prophetic attempt to form communities true to the New Testament amidst radical change. Both movements have resisted generalizations by virtue of bewildering diversity of theologies, worship styles, regional expressions and social strategies. But shared values point to their compatibility.

The emerging church movement’s core concern is ecclesiology. It sees modern pyramidal denominations as structures of an outmoded meta-narrative age, much as original Baptists identified the Anglican ecclesiastical hierarchy as part of an obsolete state church. (The emerging church movement, for instance, questions the Religious Right’s attempts to integrate the church into the nation-state’s hierarchy of powers; Baptists similarly rejected this sort of Christendom in the 1600s.) The emerging church advocates a local, congregational, self-determining ecclesiology as both biblical and a better fit for pluralistic postmodern culture. Baptists concur.

The emerging church movement holds the Bible as authoritative, but whereas most modern Protestants sift the texts for fixed truths to be arranged in a logical theology, the emerging church is suspicious of such doctrinal meta-narrative building. It sees more story than system in the Scriptures. Its interpreters prefer a narrative approach to reveal truths unavailable to reason alone. Personal engagement is more central than defense of “propositional-based thought patterns,” according to the postmodern New Testament translation, The Voice. A statement on the Emergent Village website says, “We don’t have a problem with faith, but with statements.” Historically, Baptists share this concern that fixed dogma limits personal encounter with God through Scripture.

For the emerging church movement, the Christian community’s purpose is to incarnate an inclusive way of life, not defend an exclusive doctrinal meta-narrative. According to the Emergent Village, “reconciled friendship trumps traditional orthodoxies” and is a global mission. Baptists similarly insist on individual spiritual freedom and universal religious liberty for all as prerequisites to formation of authentic Christian communities. Christianity is a life of freedom in community.

Some critics see the emerging church movement as a heretical compromise with a pluralistic, truth-denying culture. Baptist history might offer an alternative explanation—ecclesiology is more defined by the practices of a Spirit-led community than by assent to the statements of a modern theological meta-narrative. Conversely, the emerging church movement may provide hope for reformation to Baptists ignorant of the difference between modern truths and Truth incarnate.

Loyd Allen is professor of church history and spiritual formation at Mercer University’s McAfee School of Theology in Atlanta. His column is distributed by Associated Baptist Press.

Younger generations in our church don’t seem to connect with stories of Baptist heroes who dealt with the moral crises of their day. So, how can we communicate the values upon which our forebears stood?

My education, training and experience all have been in history, and much of my work has been almost exclusively in Baptist history. Still, I must acknowledge that history—including Baptist history—has the pretty sad reputation of being boring. So, unfortunately, you are right. The younger generation has little patience with “boring.” But perhaps their impatience and lack of interest is not with our Baptist heroes but with the stories we are telling and with the ways we are telling those stories.

Here is my proposal: We need to learn some new stories, and we need to learn to be good storytellers. Baptists have been around for 400 years, so we have hundreds of inspirational and informative stories of courageous Baptist women and men who have stood for what was right, served quietly and consistently, preached mightily, suffered persecution for their faith, and served faithfully in churches and on the mission fields. We all have our favorite stories—Lottie Moon, Martin Luther King Jr., William Carey and Walter Rauschenbusch. We tell these stories over and over again, and while those stories are among my personal favorites, perhaps it is time to discover new stories.

The great news is that many resources are available. Numerous new books have been produced in recent years that tell Baptist stories, including Julie Whidden Long’s Portraits of Courage: Stories of Baptist Heroes. Written for older children and teenagers but with appeal for all audiences, Long’s book includes 14 brief biographical stories. My favorites are of two recent heroes—Leena Lavanya and Olu Menjay. Lavanya, our Baptist Mother Teresa, has founded homes in India for the aged, lepers, and adults and children living with HIV/AIDS. Menjay is the principal of Rick’s Institute in Liberia, the only private school there that provides free primary education to girls and boys. We need to find stories like those of Lavanya and Menjay and tell them.

The other lesson we can learn from Long, a member of the younger generation herself, is we must reshape our storytelling. Long’s lively presentation style provides a great model for us. Imbedded into her stories are all the Baptist principles we hold dear, but she does not moralize, overemphasize or romanticize. She tells the stories, makes connections between the heroes and their Baptist beliefs, and leaves her readers to discover the lessons of history.

And that is what we need to be doing as well—simply telling the stories and letting the younger generation discover from those stories the great principles Baptists have been defending and proclaiming for 400 years.

Pamela R. Durso, executive director

Baptist Women in Ministry

Atlanta

Right or Wrong? is sponsored by the T.B. Maston Chair of Christian Ethics at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon School of Theology. Send your questions about how to apply your faith to [email protected].

“We’ve come together across the spectrum, across party and political lines, to say that coverage with inclusive, acceptable, affordable health care for all of God’s children is for us a moral imperative and a religious issue. All of God’s children need to be covered.”

Jim Wallis

Sojourners president, endorsing the “40 Days for Health Reform” effort spearheaded by a coalition of U.S. religious leaders (RNS)

“Once the justices depart, as most of them have, from the original understanding of the principles of the Constitution, they lack any guidance other than their own attempts at moral philosophy, a task for which they have not even minimal skills.”

Robert H. Bork

Former U.S. Court of Appeals judge and rejected Supreme Court justice nominee, on the role of justices (Wall Street Journal/RNS)

“One of the most amazing surprises of the presidency was the fact that people’s prayers affected me.”

George W. Bush

Former U.S. president (Washington Post/RNS)

In a few days, messengers will gather in Houston from across Texas for our annual meeting. As we approach this time together, we should ask ourselves, “What is the primary purpose of Texas Baptists?” My answer is to reach Texas for Christ.

In Jesus’ instruction in Acts 1:8, the church is to take the gospel to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and the uttermost part of the world. Texas is our Judea when we consider this verse geographically. Typically, we believe each church has a responsibility for her Jerusalem. Most churches have national conventions as partners with a strategy to reach the world. Only state conventions have the primary task of reaching their states.

The BGCT obviously is involved in ministries that reach beyond our state and have implications throughout the world. But if Texas Baptists are not committed to reaching Texas, who will? I honestly believe we have the greatest resources and strategy for reaching Texas with the hope of Christ than any other convention. There are many wonderful churches and conventions throughout our state, but I know of none that has been given the resources God has entrusted to us for sharing the hope of Christ with everyone in Texas.

God has worked through the faithfulness of our forefathers to provide 5,700 churches, nine Texas Baptist universities, four children’s homes, missionaries on 120 of our university campuses, hospitals across Texas, 561 certified chaplains (including military, hospital, prison and, among other things, even “biker” chaplains) and numerous other ministries.

Texas has great state universities with many faculty and students who are dedicated Christ followers. But none of these universities can teach from a Christian worldview. In our Baptist schools, our professors in math, science, languages, religion or any other disciplines have the opportunity (and I believe the responsibility) to teach from a Christian point of view. Christian students are strengthened, and those who do not yet know Christ who come to our schools will have opportunities to hear and see the power of the gospel. We need these Christian schools to equip leaders for today’s nihilistic and secular world.

When disaster strikes, Texas Baptists are there with food, shelter and the hope of Christ. Baptist chaplains bring grace and courage to the hurting and grieving in hospitals, jails or military conflicts. Church staff trained in our schools and seminaries lead established congregations and start new ones that reach the unchurched in rural and urban communities.

Yet with all these resources, the number of Texans who give no indication of knowing Christ is growing every year. Half of the state claim to have no church affiliation. Texas still leads the nation in the number of children who are hungry. Hundreds of languages are spoken in our neighborhoods, many coming from cultures who know nothing of Jesus.

We gather in Houston for fellowship, reports and inspiration. Yet in every gathering, I pray we will remember our greatest assignment is to share the hope of Christ with everyone in our state.

Randel Everett is executive director of the Baptist General Convention of Texas Executive Board.

Sometimes, the Law of Unintended Consequences smacks you upside the head.

This fall, Joanna and I took a trip to celebrate our 30th anniversary. This was a good thing.

After 30 years of wedded bliss, we decided to visit a part of the country we’d never seen. So, we flew to Boston and drove up to Maine.

When I think theologically, I understand God created all people and loves us all just the same. But after visiting different parts of the country (and the world, for that matter), I’m developing a theory that God’s love oscillates.

I’ve loved the word “oscillate” since I was a kid. Back then, my grandparents—Grammar and Popo—put oscillating fans in their bedrooms during the summer. These fans turn back and forth, so that one fan can stir the air all across the room as it pivots, or oscillates, from side to side.

Well, sometimes I think maybe that’s how God’s love does. It blows lovely, refreshing blessings on first one, and then another, and then back to the original one, and then back to the other.

Which makes me think of Maine. God invented special shades of crimson and gold and rust and green to paint the Maine hillsides in the fall. And the thundering grandeur of swelling waves crashing on the rocky coast blows the greatest symphony anybody ever heard, well, out of the water.

Meanwhile, as Jo and I enjoyed the pristine splendor of an autumn week in Maine, our family and friends back in Texas endured a week of gray skies, rain, occasional flooding and trees the same color they’d been for months and months—only soaked down to the flotsam and jetsam.

And so it felt as if God’s grace and love were shining on New Englanders just a bit brighter than it shone on Texans and Oklahomans.

That’s where oscillation comes in. Soon, those of us who live in the Southwest will be toasty in sweaters and light jackets on sunny 50-degree days, while our Yankee cousins will be bundled to the hilt and frozen to the marrow, trudging under leaden skies around snow piled high as a polar bear’s eye. And, although we’ll know it isn’t true, we’ll feel God loves us best.

Oh, back to the Law of Unintended Consequences: Before we left, I unplugged the TV so that, if we had a big storm, a power surge wouldn’t fry it down to the electromagnetic impulses. You think that’s smart and good? I did, too. And we both would be wrong.

When I intentionally set out to save the TV from lightning, I unintentionally disconnected the commands to record the programs Jo missed while we were gone. Three words you never want to hear from your spouse: “You did what?”

I felt as cursed by technology as New Englanders and Texans feel cursed by weather in February and July, respectively. But then Jo remembered our cable company will replay most of her shows on-demand.

Ah, oscillation.

Ruth, Lynne, Joanna and I probably looked like a tiny band of collegiate pranksters. We crouched behind bushes in front of Pat Neff Hall, the gold-domed jewel of the Baylor University campus.

(OK, maybe we didn’t look like collegiate pranksters, since we’re decades past our college prime. But there we were, sneaking around the perimeter of Pat Neff, peering from behind shrubs, just like a bunch of kids.)

We were waiting for our children to stroll up the sidewalk. Waiting for a moment that would change all our lives.

David—Ruth’s and Lynne’s youngest son—and Molly—Jo’s and my youngest daughter—met almost five years ago during a visit to Baylor before they graduated from high school. Once they moved to campus, they hung out with the same group and became good friends.

Last fall, during their senior year, something changed. David asked Molly out for a “real” date, and friendship blossomed into love. With graduation approaching, they figured out how she could go to grad school in Fort Worth, and he could attend med school in Dallas, and they could see each other a couple times a week.

Soon, they decided mid-distance dating wasn’t enough. And that’s why David took Jo and me out to dinner. He told us he loved our daughter with all of his heart and asked for our blessing because he intended to ask Molly to be his bride.

Since we love Molly more than our next breaths and had grown to love David, too, our eyes filled with tears when we said, yes, of course, we would bless their marriage.

And so David bought a ring and orchestrated all the arrangements to walk Molly to the steps of Pat Neff Hall at 8:15 on Saturday night of homecoming weekend. We watched him drop to one knee, and we heard her delighted laughter. We saw him stand up, and they hugged and kissed for a looooong time.

As they stood there together, Molly’s life passed before my eyes. I remembered her birth, how she snuggled in her “foot pajamas” and the way she used to make past-tense by adding a “D” to every verb. I recalled reading books together, playing softball in the yard and Indian Princesses’ campouts. I thought about standing beside her as I baptized her, long talks about faith and life, and listening to her sing her version of pop songs. In about two minutes, she fast-forwarded into a remarkable woman, whom I admire enormously and whom I’m grateful to call my dear friend as well as my lovely daughter.

And I thought about how I almost felt as if I knew David as a boy and teenager. We never had met, but I had been praying for him, asking God to give him good days, a happy family. Pleading with God to turn him into a kind, gentle, faithful, funny and sensitive man who would love Molly as a husband as deeply as I love her as a daddy.

God answers prayer, and we are blessed.

A co-worker insists that just because a workplace guideline is legal does not guarantee it is ethical. I maintain policies are neither legal nor ethical but should be understood as both-and. What do you think?

In an ideal world, policies pursued in the workplace and our lives will be both legal and ethical. Such is not always the case. Many people may lose their homes because mortgage brokers encouraged them to lie on applications and take out adjustable-rate loans that would reset to an unaffordable rate. Both were unwritten polices of the mortgage company. The first was both illegal and unethical. The second was legal but clearly unethical. As long as the primary motive by some companies is profit and workers fear retaliation, a dichotomy between legal and ethical workplace policies will continue. For that reason, federal and state governments have enacted “whistle-blower” statutes to protect employees who report illegal workplace activity. Someone who has been discharged or retaliated against for reporting an unlawful practice has legal redress and may recover damages.

Unfortunately, the dichotomy between the legal and ethical also exists in our daily lives. You may be called upon at some time to violate a law because your ethics and morality demand it. Can this ever be proper? The answer lies in the actions of one who was sinless and ethical. Jesus saw people being cheated by moneychangers in the temple and refused to allow his Father’s house to be a den of thieves. Turning over their tables and driving the moneychangers from the temple was illegal but also ethical.

Throughout history, individuals have faced that choice. Oskar Schindler violated the law by hiding numerous Jews, saving them from extermination in concentration camps. Individuals aiding runaway slaves in the Underground Railroad clearly violated the laws of their day. Who would argue they were not highly ethical?

Conscientious objectors during the Vietnam War faced this dilemma. Some went underground or fled to Canada. Some stood resolutely and refused to serve, knowing it required them to go to prison. Others served as medics, refusing to carry a weapon but putting themselves in harm’s way to aid other soldiers. In my opinion, those who fled were guilty of acts both illegal and unethical. Those who stayed and faced the consequences were guilty of acts that were illegal, but ethical. Those who made the third choice acted in a way that was both legal and ethical.

We must consider whether our actions are legal and ethical. One may be faced with choosing between them. If so, one must understand the requirements of both dynamics. If ethics wins, as it should, and one needs to break the law knowingly, one also must understand and accept the possible consequences.

Cynthia Holmes, attorney

Former moderator, Cooperative Baptist Fellowship

Clayton, Mo.

Right or Wrong? is sponsored by the T.B. Maston Chair of Christian Ethics at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon School of Theology. Send your questions about how to apply your faith to [email protected]u.

I recently was in a meeting with denominational leaders who were discussing our Matthew 28:19-20 commission and Acts 1:8 imperative. As I reflected back on what we shared, I realized we could have had the same conversation in 1985.

In our limited time, we focused on the distribution of funds. If we had more time together, we probably would have discussed strategies instead of structures. But we didn't. Obviously, the world of 2009 is quite different from 1985. Shouldn’t we be thinking of new and innovative ways to fulfill the Great Commission?

One of the problems is that most of us are linear thinkers in a mosaic world. I like Acts 1:8. It provides us with a clear structure that is comprehensive and measureable. It is perfect for us “linears.” All we have to do is define our Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria and develop a strategy for taking the gospel into each of these areas. We can then map our progress and evaluate our effectiveness.

Unfortunately, we face challenges with implementation. Some countries are closed to proselytes and will not welcome missionaries. We also face a shortage of those willing to go and live in another culture; communication challenges they face once they arrive; and the shortfall of funds to support such a bold mission. Then there is the realization that even if we put 8,000 missionaries on the field, it will be a drop in the bucket.

What do we do? We certainly should dedicate more of our personal income and church budgets to missions. We should also pray for God to call out missionaries to the field and be willing to serve ourselves.

But are there other opportunities? I actually believe there are!

Some of us are immigrants to this strange new world of technology, communication, mobilization and multi-tasking. We should embrace the changes and recognize this as an exciting day of mission opportunity.

This may be the most exciting time for participation in the Great Commission since the first century. We need to begin to see Acts 1:8 not just as a geographical strategy but also relationally and virally.

The world has come to Texas—and probably to your neighborhood. Many who come from countries closed to the gospel have come here to work and study.

Our Iranian neighbor (or coworker or fellow student) whom we befriend probably will still have contacts in Iran. As we share the hope of Christ with her, she may be able to share with her family.

Today's Jerusalem may be a two-mile radius from your church; it may also be your Facebook list. God may send you to another place in the world as a missionary, or he may send you as an engineer in your company or through the military or as a student.

The Acts 1:8 world is messy and dynamic. It may be hard to plan or even evaluate. But isn't this descriptive of movements of the Holy Spirit throughout the ages?

Randel Everett is executive director of the Baptist General Convention of Texas Executive Board.