Recently, I attended the National Association of Baptist Professors of Religion annual meeting in Nashville, Tenn. Our host for the conference was Belmont University, which invited us to their lovely campus filled with soaring neo-classical architecture. Every year, the society meets, and its members present papers in our various disciplines, such as biblical studies, theology and church history. We also discuss pedagogy in a Baptist context.

Jeremiah BaileyAs part of our welcome dinner, we heard two special guests. One was documentary filmmaker Cliff Vaughn, a talented observer of religion in America, who reflected helpfully on truth-telling and producing documentaries. The other, to my delighted surprise, was an indie rock musician, Corey Bishop, who offered us an acoustic solo set.

Two gifts

We learned Bishop was a graduate of the school’s religion department. He related a longer version of his story, telling us about his one-semester stint at Candler School of Theology, then a name change and pursuit of music.

Bishop ultimately imparted two gifts to me that evening: His delightfully playful lyrical style and an opportunity for self-reflection.

The self-reflection came from something that played out over the course of his set. He made comments and exhibited body language that indicated, at least on some level, his disconnection from and discomfort with his setting.

At one point, he explained he and his fiancée decided he probably should not play this one song, but with a slight sheepishness, he asked the audience if it would be all right if he did, noting it made references to drugs. Someone in the crowd shouted, “We’re Baptist professors, not aliens!” He went on to play the best song of the night—a rollicking jaunt extolling the superiority of love to all other highs, clearly speaking from experience. It was a great set, and everyone had a good time.

No excuse

What really struck me about this exchange was this is someone who had been part of the Baptist community and still, after some time away, defaulted to an understanding of Baptists as prudish and obsessively boundary-policing. Reflecting on this fact, I must assume his experiences led to such caution.

Frankly, given the Bible we have, there is no real excuse for Baptists to be prudish and to shrink from the discussion of all manner of things in society.

The Book of Genesis alone has more sex, rape, murder, betrayal, incest, genocide, theft, drunkenness and prostitution than Game of Thrones. The records of the kings of Israel and Judah likewise are filled with plots, intrigues and assassinations. Not to mention that, erroneous allegorizing aside, we have an entire book of the Bible that consists of an extended poem to erotic love. If you ever want a congregation to be surprised by Scripture, explain to them what many scholars think the Song of Solomon really means when it says, “Your navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks blended wine”!

Stepping away from simply salacious examples—by modern American standards—this issue of communicating in an exclusively churchy way, an idiom of ecclesiastical prudishness, goes far beyond being able to talk about sex and murder and such. The Scriptures do not shy away from the full spectrum of human emotion and experience. In particular, I always have been struck by the humanity of the Psalms, which put on stark display much of what we as individuals often try so hard to hide.

Frank reflections

I do not think it is an accident our Bible contains in the Psalms and prophets frank reflections on the apparent injustice of the world, expressions of uncertainty and declarations of pain. Scriptures voice the doubts of the people about the promises of God and make no effort to hide even the ugliest expressions of their suffering.

When facing the loss of their nation and the difficult theological questions arising from the destruction of the temple, the Psalmist vents the rage of his people, crying out to God his desire that the infants of his oppressors should be killed. I do not take the presence of that Psalm in our Bible to be an endorsement of its ideas but rather an acknowledgment of the limits of humans to cope with suffering and their need to relate those experiences to God.

If God really did have a hand in forming our Bible, then we ought to acknowledge it is necessary for the church to make room for the full gamut of human experiences and emotions.

We need to make a space for people to ask honestly without a preconceived or pat answer, “Why do the wicked prosper?” We need to make space for people to express their doubts about God and their fears. And, yes, we need to make room for people to talk about sex and sometimes drugs—and rock and roll, too, if it is a part of their story.

Churches are for people, and people are complicated. We’re human, and the records of our faith have not flinched in the face of that fact, so why should our churches?

We’re Baptists, not aliens.

Jeremiah Bailey is a doctoral student at Baylor University specializing in the study of the New Testament and early Christianity. He attends Lake Shore Baptist Church in Waco and is writing a dissertation on First Clement.

“As I sit here on the eve of one of the greatest sporting events that we have in sports … race and what’s going on comes again.”—Lebron James

One of the most anticipated showdowns has come and gone. We’ve chosen sides, and with exacerbated angst, we have watched grueling head-to-heads, seeing two teams survive a head-on collision.

Dante WrightIn both teams, we find our hopes and dreams for greatness, we celebrate talent and relish in victory. We hear once again the “sideline coaches” quoting stats verbatim, analyzing years’ worth of film, predicting the outcome of a glorious battle on the court that is determined more by the heart of the team than by the skill of the players.

But this battle, this championship, this NBA Finals was overshadowed. Something far less glorious and far more sinister took the court.

Racism.

Lebron James sat down at a press conference to talk about basketball, but the first question he had to answer was that of race. The security gate that guards his Los Angeles home was violated with the word “NIGGER” spray-painted across its surface. This gate, while it protected his family from intruders, could not protect Lebron, his family, nor this country from a far more powerful intruder.

Racism.

Once again, racism

Instead of opening the press conference with questions about team preparedness, strategy or even competitive banter, we had to endure roughly three minutes of the race conversation. Once again, racism overshadowed one of our favorite pastimes.

My initial reaction was anger and frustration at the idea that racism stole the limelight from the NBA Finals. I have since had time to process these events and have determined it is not racism that interrupted the NBA Finals, but the NBA Finals served as a distraction from the issue of racism.

The fact we are upset that racism interrupts our fun is an indication we have our priorities mix up. However, there are few and far in between who notice we expend more energy trying to hide racism than we do actually grappling with this pressing issue. The common concern is not for eradicating racism, but for racism to stop interrupting our comforts, as if conversations around race have no business popping up in our sports, our education, our politics and our churches. In fact, it seems the common consensus is we have moved past racism, save for a few strongholds that make us look bad.

Ugly head

What this year’s NBA Finals taught us is that racism rears its ugly head anywhere and everywhere. Racism did not steal the thunder of the finals. Rather, the finals served as a distraction to the real problem of this country. Much like the gladiatorial events of ancient Rome served as a distractor away from the constant and costly wars, the heavy taxes, the immense poverty and the low national morale, we seek gladiatorialesque opportunities to silence conversations around race.

However, this country and this world have a funny way of making us come back to the conversation.

The race conversation is not the distraction; it is the pervasive problem we all seek to hide. This is the hard truth we must understand—we have designed a society that actively seeks to run away from its perpetual sin. We find other problems deemed more important and hide behind the adrenaline rush of action-packed sports filled with players who constantly combat racial stereotypes yet are told to be quiet because they are lucky to be paid millions.

We find ways to veto the voice of the dissenting because, after all, this is sports, not politics. There is no room to talk about race, only to enjoy the game.

But when will we actually turn our attention to the problem at hand? When will we reveal the true nature of our love for sports, news, politics and the like? Our love for these spheres of influence are but distractions, used to delegitimize the problem of race in our country.

Troubling history

In particular, sports has a troubling history of not only segregation, but also the classic “we’ve been good to you people” line of reasoning. For sure a micro-aggression, this logic falsely asserts that because a person of color reaches a certain level of economic, educational or professional achievement, their race and racism no longer apply to them. And where it does, it never should be spoken of in the public square.

In fact, “privileged” minorities never should bite the hand that feeds them. This logic asserts the benevolence of whiteness to the seemingly helpless minority. What arrogance to suppose that money earned and talent used is a gift from benevolent patrons whose primary stipulation is that you remain silent when racism rears its ugly head.

But we are called to speak truth to power, to use whatever talents and tools we have to raise into the consciousness of the culture the primary moral problem.

Race.

Let us be honest with one another: Everything from sports recruiting to environmental issues intersects America’s age-old problem with race. Muhammad Ali, Jackie Robinson, Jessie Owens, Serena Williams, Gabby Douglas, Lebron James, Colin Kaepernick, the University of Missouri football team, and many unnamed and forgotten others all have a single common problem. The thread of racism continually bombards their lives, despite their high level of achievement, and the suffocating thread of benevolent whiteness seeks also to guilt them into submission.

But the refrain from the likes of Lebron James and others is the voice of righteousness to a perverse world. They collectively say, “You must deal with this racist past and present, and deal with it now.”

Appeal of God

This is the appeal of God, who continually calls for us to confront our sins. God will not allow our distractions, our gladiatorial events to distract us from the real problem. God continually sends unlikely mouthpieces, suffering servants, unwavering voices their talents to speak to the pain of oppressed people.

The NBA Finals distracted us again, at least as best it could. Once again, we were frustrated at the insertion of race into one of our favorite distractions—I mean pastimes.

I don’t want to be distracted by the games I love. I want to be captured by righteousness wherever it manages to fight through the distractions. My hope is that we all begin to look with fresh eyes and hear with fresh ears the movement and voice of God when he is getting our attention.

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

When people think of the church, what images come to mind?

Bob Ellis

Some picture the church as a beautiful architectural space filled with smiling people dressed in their Sunday best. Such an image may lead to the notion of the church as a showroom for saints. Or perhaps some imagine the church as an intricately carved oaken china cabinet with leaded-glass doors, filled with the finest Wedgwood china and Waterford crystal. While there is great value in beautiful worship spaces that artistically glorify God, the notion of church people as fine bone china is sadly off the mark. If we are honest, those of us in the church must confess that instead of being fine china, we are all too often chipped, cracked, stained by the past and broken.

Perhaps a better metaphor for the church is that of a hospital for sick people. It’s a biblical image. Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” those “sick of soul.” And Jesus referred to himself as a physician who has come for sick people, for those who know they need help. While at the same time, Jesus recognized he has nothing to offer those who think they already are spiritually healthy.

Imagine your church

Imagine the church where you worship as a hospital for the spiritually ill. Or maybe think of it as an emergency clinic for those desperately sick of soul, or a spiritual rehabilitation facility for long-term recovery, or a treatment center for those who have relapsed into spiritually destructive addictions.

Or the image may be of the church as a waiting room, filled with people who have arrived for an appointment, yet unsure if they actually want to sign in and visit the doctor, who keep putting it off in hope of ignoring the pain. In such an ecclesial waiting room, some of us may be able to encourage the reluctant, giving testimony about how the Great Physician is helping us. Perhaps we’d even offer to go in to the appointment with them, to provide moral support.

The hospital metaphor might also suggest that, as a church, we need the soulful equivalent of ambulances that take us as spiritual EMTs to places in our towns where people are in acute need, hurt by life, wounded by sinfulness or confused about where to go for help.

Where is the greatest need?

With such an image in mind, we should ask: Where are the greatest needs around us? Maybe among the down-and-outs or the up-and-outs, the desperately ill or those numbed by pain into soulish lethargy. Where would your church find the most-needy people in your city, the ones most desperate for care? Likely, that is where we should be concentrating our attention.

If this hospital metaphor for the church is valid, then an obvious implication would be that under no circumstances could we ever turn someone away because her or his spiritual illness was too severe, or think someone has to change behavior or get healthy before becoming part of our community.

Think what it would be like if your local hospital turned sick people away because they weren’t already well. It’s unimaginable. Just so with the church—we dare not think anyone is unworthy of entering our doors because of their weakness, pain or failings.

Think of Jesus

Jesus often was accused of foolishness because he spent too much time with spiritually sick people. Instead of shunning the broken, he invited them into his kingdom. To be sure, he called those sick of soul to repentance and to move toward wholeness, all the while inviting them to come near to him. Jesus never turned people away because they were broken of soul or slow to heal.

Think of Peter, whom Jesus called “Satan” at one point and who denied Christ three times. And yet Peter, with all his failings, was part of the innermost circle of Jesus’ followers while he was spiritually broken.

Falling prey

By contrast, the only people Jesus responded to with harshness were the religiously respectable, who kept all the ecclesial rules and thought they were too good to be around people broken by life. Jesus called such religious folks hypocrites on their way to complete self-destruction.

Sadly, those of us in the church who have figured out how to live culturally respectable lives according to the norms of American Christianity all too often fall prey to the temptation of hypocrisy, thinking we are spiritually superior to others who aren’t already making progress in a treatment plan with the healer.

The truth, of course, is we all are poor of spirit, and when we humbly acknowledge that reality, we place ourselves in a position to become wounded witnesses, inviting others to join us in the hospital that is the church, all of us patients of the great physician.

Bob Ellis is associate dean for academics at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon Seminary in Abilene, Texas. This column was adapted from a blog featured on the website of First Baptist Church in Abilene.

Howard Anderson has been pastor of the “Exciting” Singing Hills Baptist Church in Dallas since he organized the congregation with 24 members in 1984—33 years ago. From deep in the heart of one Texan, he shares his background and thoughts on church and ministry. To suggest a Baptist General Convention of Texas-affiliated minister to be featured in this column, or to apply to be featured yourself, click here.

Background

• Where else have you served in ministry, and what were your positions there?

I served at the Greater Emmanuel Baptist Church in Dallas as a member of the outreach and men’s ministry. I also served with the Bill Glass Prison Fellowship, which allowed me to travel and minister at correctional facilities as a counselor throughout Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Georgia.

• Where did you grow up?

I grew up in Jewett, Texas. I graduated from George Washington Carver High School in 1964.

• How did you come to faith in Christ?

By following my grandfather around, watching him as he served as a deacon at the Mount Olive Baptist Church in Jewett. By listening to my Sunday school and Baptist Young People’s Union teachers and hearing the pastor preach the gospel.

• Where were you educated, and what degrees did you receive?

I received my bachelor of arts degree in biblical studies at Criswell College. I received a master of arts degree in pastoral theology at Criswell College. I received a doctor of ministry degree from Bethany Divinity College and Seminary in Dothan, Ala.

Ministry/church

• Why do you feel called into ministry?

It is a strong inner sense of knowing that God has called me to do what I do. I believe it’s inexplicable but spiritually directed.

• What is your favorite aspect of ministry? Why?

Preaching and teaching the word of God to the people of God and seeing people mature in their faith.

• What one aspect of congregational life gives you the greatest joy?

Preaching the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ on a consistent basis and ministering to people on a personal level.

• How has your ministry or your perspective on ministry changed?

It has changed from the idea of building a great work to building people to do great work.

• If you could launch any new ministry—individually, through your congregation or through another organization—what would it be? Why?

I would launch a ministry to mentor young pastors and preachers. I believe in the 33 years I’ve pastored the “Exciting” Singing Hills Baptist Church, God has taught me some things that would be helpful to young pastors and preachers

• Name the three most significant challenges and/or influences facing your congregation.

First, to consistently reach people for Jesus Christ. Second, to disciple those we have reached for Christ. And last, to train potential ministry leaders to fill ministry positions of those who are retiring.

• What do you wish more laypeople knew about ministry or, specifically, your ministry?

The sacrifices that most pastors, staff and ministry leaders make for the ministries of the local church.

About Baptists

• What are the key issues facing Baptists—denominationally and/or congregationally?

The pressure to conform to the non-biblical “truths” of a secular society in order to remain relevant in a world that needs Jesus so desperately.

About Howard

• Who were/are your mentors, and how did/do they influence you?

Deacon Purnell Anderson, my grandfather: I was heavily influenced by his godly Christian example, his commitment to Christ, his commitment to his family and his commitment to his church, Mount Olive Baptist Church in Jewett.

Rev. Burley Hudson: He is the longtime pastor of Greater Emmanuel Baptist Church in Dallas. He is one of the most humble pastors I have known. His love for pastoring and preaching impressed me. I started preaching and was licensed and ordained under his ministry leadership.

Dr. Jim Culp: Dr. Culp served as director of black church relations with the Baptist General Convention of Texas. He demonstrated godly character and leadership. He knew the value of churches of all ethnicities working together for the kingdom of God.

• What did you learn on the job you wish you learned in seminary?

Someone has said people don’t care about what you know until they know that you care. I wish I had learned the importance of the correlation between knowledge of the Bible and care for the people. The knowledge of the Bible and care for the people go together like a hand and glove. This distinction allows you to pastor with a compassionate touch. It is at this point you become a true shepherd of the flock that God has allowed you to lead.

• What is the impact of ministry on your family?

My wife, Shirley, and I have been married 50 years, and her life has been impacted greatly through ministry. My son is a medical doctor and minister. He and his wife have three children. All have accepted Jesus Christ as Savior. My entire family has been impacted by ministry.

• Name some of your favorite books (other than the Bible) or authors, and explain why.

My favorite books are those I have written—except for the Bible.

My first book, titled Growth Principles for an “Exciting” Church, provides principles that are invaluable for church planting, especially in the African–American community. It also discusses the mental discernment every church needs to be alive and vibrant.

My second book, Life Navigation: Biblical Guidance for Daily Living, expounds the normal, cooperative and continual aspects of spiritual growth and how God’s word guides us through our journey.

My third book, The Power of Your Faith, demonstrates how God gives us a resource that allows us to find victory in every circumstance we encounter. That resource is the power of your faith in God.

• What is your favorite Bible verse or passage? Why?

My favorite Bible verse is Psalm 84:11, “For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless.” It is a Scripture that allows me to stay focused on the ministry for which God has called me. Just knowing that whatever is good for me, God will not withhold it from me. This enables me to work in my ministry field without being jealous of others in ministry.

• Who is your favorite Bible character, other than Jesus? Why?

Nehemiah. Nehemiah was a great leader. He knew how to stay in touch with God through prayer and how to communicate with his people. He was an involved leader. He understood that planning was necessary for successful work. He was very clear on the fact that prayer proceeded planning but did not prohibit planning. Nehemiah’s leadership reveals what happens when people work together toward a common goal.

• Name something about you that would surprise your church.

During my days at Criswell College, I preached the gospel of Jesus Christ on the street in downtown Dallas on Ervay Street by Neiman-Marcus and the old H.L. Green store.

• If you could get one “do over” in ministry, what would it be, and why?

I would work more on balancing the spiritual and social aspects of ministry based upon Luke 4:18-19, “‘The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’” Jesus’ ministry focused on both the spiritual and the social needs of people.

• What life experience has impacted your ministry the most?

The military had a definite impact on my ministry. I am an Air Force Vietnam veteran, who served from 1965 to 1969. My experiences in the military taught me the importance of discipline. The relational and leadership skills I learned in the military are indispensable to my ministry.

To read other “Deep in the Hearts of Texans” profiles, click here.

This month, Marches Against Sharia were conducted in more than 20 U.S. cities. News like this might generate two conflicting instincts.

On the one hand, the claim that Shariah is taking over American law seems far-fetched—almost paranoid—and maybe linked to Islamophobia. Indeed, in this case, the group organizing the marches, ACT for America, is described by the Southern Poverty Law Center as “far and away the largest grassroots anti-Muslim group in America.”

On the other hand, you’re probably not a fan of religious law, so if that’s what Shariah is, you don’t want to find yourself defending it—especially if it has anything to do with those ISIS videos.

Both instincts are right: Shariah is not taking over American law. And the campaigns and marches against Shariah are unnecessary, serving only to increase fear and hatred toward American Muslims.

Shared concerns

But what about religion-based law? Turns out, American Muslims—even those who follow Shariah—share those concerns.

Shariah is not “law” in our common use of the term. In the West, law is thought of as something the state does. But the rules of Shariah don’t come from a state. This is why the phrase “Shariah law” is really confusing.

Shariah—literally, “way”—refers to the way Muslims believe God advises them to live, documented in the Quran and the Prophet Muhammad’s practices.

Because these sources don’t directly answer every life question, Muslim scholars extrapolated rules from those sources with legal analysis called ijtihad. But—and this is crucial—they did this knowing they were human and fallible.

They called their rules “fiqh,” meaning “understanding,” showing they knew they could not speak for God. As more scholars engaged in ijtihad, more schools of fiqh grew.

Like a recipe

Think of it like this: For Muslims, Shariah is God’s recipe for living a good life. But you can’t taste the recipe. You can only imagine a chef’s understanding of a recipe. Chefs use different techniques and different local ingredients, so the taste will change. Similarly, there is one Shariah, but multiple fiqh versions of Shariah from which to choose to live a Muslim life.

To make things even more complicated for American observers, fiqh doesn’t neatly fit into Western categories of law and morality. Fiqh includes topics Americans would call legal (grounds for divorce, charitable trust requirements), but also ethics and morality (the duty to rescue those in need), manners (hygiene, controlling anger) and ritual worship (fasting and prayer).

So, when a Muslim says she follows Shariah, that just means she refers to these rules as she lives her life. Does that mean she wants them to become the law of the land for everyone? No. She would be violating Shariah if she did. To understand that apparent paradox, consider how the “law of the land” worked in Muslim societies.

Two types of law

Before colonialism, Muslim legal systems were made up of two types of law—scholar-made fiqh and siyasa, laws made by rulers. Siyasa is very different from fiqh. It is not meant to guide individual Muslim lives but rather to serve the public good. Rulers made siyasa laws on things such as marketplace fairness, public safety and fair labor practices—laws necessary for society but not derived from scripture.

The separation of fiqh and siyasa protected Muslim societies from becoming “one law for all” theocracies. Rather than enforcing one version of fiqh on everyone, Muslim rulers appointed different judges from different fiqh schools. This created a “to each their own” environment for fiqh choice as well as the religious laws of Christians, Jews and others.

But don’t countries like Iran and Pakistan, as well as the Islamic State group, impose “one Shariah for all”? Yes.

But not because of Shariah. Thanks to European colonialism, these countries are all nation-states, with centralized state law. Even Islamist parties don’t remember the separation of fiqh and siyasa. Unfortunately, they instead pursue “Islamization” through state enactment of “Shariah.”

So, despite the fact Islam does not have a leader or institution to dictate Islamic orthodoxy, Muslim nation-states have come to define Shariah for their populations—a power wisely denied to Muslim rulers for centuries.

State-religion separation

Because of all this, sadly, most of the world’s Muslims are unaware of fiqh diversity and that fiqh rules do not apply to non-Muslims. This is why you see polls documenting that most of the world’s Muslims apparently want Shariah as the law of the land.

But wait. Those same polls also report that most of the world’s Muslims don’t want religious leaders influencing politics. Is that a contradiction? Not if you understand the difference between fiqh and siyasa.

In other words, deep down, Muslims know they want Shariah in their lives, but they also know there is an important separation between state—siyasa—authority and religious—fiqh—authority. This idea has deep roots in Muslim consciousness.

In other words, Shariah is not “religious law” as it was known in Europe. So, instincts against religious law can comfortably coexist with supporting Muslims’ personal desire to follow Shariah.

Asifa Quraishi-Landes is professor of law at the University of Wisconsin Law School and a fellow at the Institute for Social Policy and Understanding in Washington. Religion News Service distributed this commentary.

Does anyone care anymore?

I just read a perspective piece in the Washington Post from Jeremy Courtney reporting that the Trump administration is now actively deporting Iraqi Christians back to their homeland. This is the same administration who rallied evangelicals around the idea that Muslims were being given preference over Christians under the Obama administration in the resettlement of Syrian refugees in the United States. Trump commented about his view on these Christians: “We are going to help them. They’ve been horribly treated.”

Read the rest of this column at Baptist News Global.

Craig Martin is a freelance video producer living in Richmond, Va. He is a member of the Baptist News Global board of directors.

While Italy played Brazil for a World Cup soccer match in Mexico, a magnitude 8.0 earthquake struck just off the coast of Peru. At the top of Peru’s highest mountain, an enormous chunk of earth dislodged and created a massive avalanche. Within three minutes, a 3,000-foot-wide wall of mud, rock, snow and ice completely buried a town and most of its 25,000 people who had no chance to get away.

A decade after that 1970 tragedy, my family visited the site of what had been Yungay. We walked across a vast, open plain—now a national cemetery—that hides the remains of homes, shops, buses, bicycles, park benches and lives. All of this rested 18 feet under the ground.

Remnants of a cathedral and the back end of a half-buried bus provided eerie reminders of the former town. Yet something continued to live in this place of death—the tops of four trees stuck out of the ground. Still rooted in the town square far beneath us, the palm trees had survived!

Compared to trees

My wife and I lived in five countries and worked in another three during nearly 30 years as missionaries. Our administrative roles provided us with constant exposure to diverse people in various settings, yet the common call to share the gospel bound us with all of them. Over these years, a golden-nugget Bible verse drew my attention again and again. Psalm 92:12 says, “The righteous thrive like a palm tree.”

Psalm 92, a Sabbath-day song, tells of God’s love and faithfulness in the morning and at night (v. 2), the mighty works of his hands and the great depths of his thoughts (v. 5). God’s people will affirm he is just and righteous (v. 15).

The psalmist also provided an intriguing picture of the lives of missionaries and faithful believers. He drew a sharp contrast between the righteous, who praise God, and the foolish, who do not. While the foolish and wicked are compared to weeds (v. 7), the righteous are compared to trees (vv. 12-14).

Missionaries are not spiritual heroes called by God to share the gospel because of a superior level of maturity in Christ. We, like all believers, frequently don’t get things right. But regardless of our shortcomings, we are among the righteous. We will thrive like a palm tree.

Common characteristics

Although nearly 3,000 species of palms exist, they have these things in common:

• They are recognizable. While an arborist might identify any species of tree, almost anyone would recognize a palm tree.

• They grow practically anywhere. Although usually considered tropical, various species of palms are compatible with other climates—even cold ones.

• They suggest serenity. With fronds rustling in a gentle breeze, they offer a sense of peace and well-being.

• They withstand hard times. Although doubled over by hurricane winds, they remain standing. Their roots grow down and out, giving the tree unique stability.

• They are evergreen. They are pleasing to the eye in every season.

• They offer hope. Imagine yourself crossing a desert, parched and dehydrated. Then, on the horizon, the sight of an oasis appears. Where there are palm trees, there is water.

• They are graceful. They go with the flow. As they sway, their branches interlace instead of bruising each other. Even strong winds pass through without damaging them.

• They symbolize peace and victory. Their branches represented peace among Middle-Eastern people in ancient times. And on Palm Sunday, we observe the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem.

Like palm trees …

• In many shapes and sizes, we are recognized as Christ’s followers.

• We grow wherever God sees fit to plant us.

• We offer a calm presence in the midst of a chaotic world.

• We withstand the hard times.

• We are pleasant to those who interact with us.

• We represent and preach hope.

• We exhibit grace and forbearance in opposition.

• We live triumphantly, knowing that Christ has gained our victory over sin and death.

Although we may at times find ourselves in harsh surroundings, at odds with upbringing and expectations, we can choose to continue sharing the gospel in a hopeless, perishing world.

Hayward Armstrong is professor of missions at Union University’s School of Theology and Missions. He spent 14 years in Peru, followed by service in Chile, Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay in support of International Mission Board missionaries. He is the author of several missions-related books, including M-Life Illustrated: Reflections on the Lives of Cross-Cultural Missionaries.

Patti Richter lives in the Dallas area. She writes and edits International Outreach stories for The Gospel Coalition and contributes faith and ministry articles regularly to several other publications.

Our first week in Leeds, my co-worker Paul and I would walk every morning from our host home to the Emmanuel Centre, the university chaplaincy headquarters. On one such walk, I became terribly aware none of my clothes fit. At least, that was how they felt—oversized, almost oppressive, tailored for a man far more substantial than I.

In many ways, that was my ever-present struggle on this trip. The clothes never seemed to fit. I am, by nature, a shy, reserved, look-before-I-leap creature of habit with an utter lack of confidence in social interactions. Leeds called me to be a gregarious, warm, adaptable risk-taker. Furthermore, although the United Kingdom and the U.S.A. are similar, I felt entirely culturally inept. I didn’t know the city layout. I didn’t have mobile Internet. I had a very small number of friends. And I hardly knew my schedule for the next three hours, let alone the next day. My security blankets all were left behind in America. What had I done to so dreadfully mislead whoever was in charge that I should be here? Who is this “Seth” fool? He doesn’t fit the bill. He’s not big enough to fit into these pants.

All of that is true. I don’t fit the bill, I can’t fill the pants, and I had done nothing to merit this. But Jesus does, he can, he did, and he will again. The full weight of that truth hadn’t quite sunk into my head yet.

No source of comfort but Christ

Christ had to take away all my sources of comfort to make me realize that I don’t trust him. Not really. I can trust him at home where it’s safe, sure—when I have a plethora of other sources of security (environment, family, friends, studies) to fall back on if something doesn’t work out. But the problem is, I’m trusting those idols instead of him.

When those things were stripped away, I became paralyzed. Operationally, I was fine, I could do the things asked of me, but if I had to think about it, the self-doubts would creep in and cripple my heart.  Comparison was a heavy one—I don’t fit in with this team. They’re so good, so in tune with the Lord, so blessed by his gifts. What value can I add?

Related to that was something I think most of our group struggled with—whether our work here meant anything, since we so rarely got to see the fruit. Worried, wrestling, I could not love the students as Christ called us to, even if I could go through the motions.

At the time, I didn’t know what I needed. God did, though, and he used his Word and his people to show me. I was blessed by my brothers and sisters from both Houston and Leeds, over and over again. God reached down to me, a little fool in ill-fitting clothes, and offered himself as a security blanket.

University chaplaincy outreach

The chaplaincy held a worship service on Ascension Day, May 25, in front of the student union. It was beautiful. Afterward, a few of us were passing out sodas and asking students to pin their home countries on our world map. Two came over, attracted by the map. Gio considered himself Canadian, Italian, and Greek; Laura was purely Italian.  Both were studying English literature at Leeds University. I ended up talking with them for over half an hour about literature, England, the other events we would be participating in, their religious backgrounds—Orthodox and Catholic, respectively, though neither now practice—and whether this Jesus fellow was really who he said he was. Abruptly, upon the arrival of their friends, they left to get ice cream and invited me to join. I had to stay at my post, I told them, but thanks anyway.

I assumed that would be the last I saw of Gio and Laura. Scattering seeds, I reminded myself, scattering seeds. Connect them with the chaplaincy, which can water, but the Lord gives the growth. Still, it was all too easy for us to become discouraged by the lack of miraculous “come to Jesus” moments.

But then, 30 minutes later, they came back—and they brought me ice cream, freely, a gift of grace. As they were on their way to the library, we didn’t get to talk much more. However, it brought me such joy to see a glimmer of hope that something was working in their hearts.

The chaplains, during a final debrief, told us how they had seen the Lord moving in the city since we arrived.  On top of connecting with more students, we also had the privilege of ministering to the chaplains themselves, who can feel like every day is another round of the waiting game. We may not have seen much change, only coming in for two weeks, but they could recognize the difference. 

Our last night in Leeds, the team was leading a worship service at the Baptist church we partnered with. I had invited Gio and Laura, but they were not sold on the idea. Again, I didn’t expect to see them, and again, they showed up, just to say goodbye before we left the next morning. I was blown away. God is so faithful! Here he gave me another glimpse of future growth, a reassurance that, even if I never see it until heaven, our time here did have an eternal impact. And the Lord, who is not bound by my range of vision, the city limits of Houston, or the borders of America, will continue to work in Leeds through the long-term ministers he has appointed there. I am so, so thankful for the opportunity we had to learn from them and to participate in God’s plan for the United Kingdom. Whatever I lack, He fills up to overflowing.

Seth Grant, a student at Houston Baptist University, served with Go Now Missions  in Leeds, England.

My face ain’t what it used to be.

“Compared to what?” you may ask. Fair question. Compared to everything it’s ever been.

Faces are inordinately subjective, aren’t they? When we look at others, we see beautiful and handsome faces, ordinary and interesting faces, happy and sad faces, compelling and threatening faces, faces we’ll always remember and faces we’ll forget the second we look away.

But they’re just faces. Other people’s faces. They’re useful for identifying friends, family, acquaintances and famous people. All the other faces are pretty much wallpaper, which we rarely notice.

Our faces

Then there are our faces. Your face and mine. We pay attention to our own faces. This helps explain why the U.S. cosmetics industry took in almost $62.5 billion last year. I don’t even know if that includes shaving cream and razors. Human nature compels most of us to pay close attention to our faces—the most recognizable representation of our selves.

I’ve been thinking about my own face. A lot. More about why in a moment.

The first time I recall even considering my face was the first time something bad happened to it. When I was in fourth grade—50 years ago last month—I got hit in the head with a baseball bat. My face resembled a raccoon’s. And I received my first facial scar, a tiny crater above my left temple.

A few years later, the onset of puberty delivered acne, and the number of scars multiplied to a number too traumatic to count. For the first time, acne made me ashamed of my face. But acne also made me resilient and funnier. If you can’t change your looks, you’ve got to compensate somehow.

For a couple of decades, my face changed peripherally—hairstyles, glasses, evolving moustache and beard and goatee.

A toll taken

Then, of course, came middle age, when gravity, genetics and exposure took their toll in approximately this sequence:

• Hair thinning

• Crow’s feet, which I prefer to call “laugh lines”

• Gray hair

• Jowls

• More hair thinning, which ultimately must be acknowledged as baldness

• Ear hair, to add insult to follicle injury

• A scar in the middle of my forehead, thanks to my dermatologist

• A little turkey-gobbler thingy

The word is “character”

So, by this time, my face already had plenty of “character,” which is what people who want to deny they’re getting older call the definite signs of getting older.

Then my face changed almost imperceptibly. A slight lump rose up on the top of my right jaw. I’ve told you about it before. Late last year, a surgeon saved my life by removing the lump, an acinic cell carcinoma—a tumor in my salivary gland. Two weeks later, another surgeon compensated for nerve damage from the first surgery by putting a weight in my right eyelid, so I can close that eye. And then a radiologist, working to secure my longevity, ran me through six weeks of radiation.

My ol’ face took quite a beating. On the up side, since I can’t raise one paralyzed eyebrow, I also can raise only one eyebrow. This is really cool; a mark of a true comedian. But now I’ve got a fading scar across my right temple, down the side of my ear and into my neck. The corners of my right eye have been cinched down to help that little weight close that eye. The shekinah glow of radiation has faded, and most of my hair has grown back. The right side of my face sags a bit, so people still ask if I’ve got Bell’s palsy. Two kinds of plastic surgeons have said, “Just wait,” for which I’m simultaneously deeply grateful and a little disappointed.

As you might imagine, I don’t like my face all that much right now. Sure, I’ve always known I look more like a hockey player than a movie star. But my mug was more or less symmetrical. I could eat a sandwich without contortions. And the name Quasimodo never crossed my mind when I looked in the mirror.

A good thing; really

Besides all that, I have to tell you getting this face is one of the best things that ever happened to me.

Unlike so many cancer patients, I never had to confront my near-term mortality. The first thing my surgeon, Dr. Steckler, told Joanna was, “Your husband is not going to die of this.” We trusted his experience and leaned into his comfort.

Still, we knew this was big and bad, although we could not comprehend how big or how bad. Two surgeries and 30 radiation treatments offered an ordeal. And frankly, I’ve never felt so bad and also so close to the Lord. Jo remained faithful and steadfast throughout the journey, and we felt the presence of the Holy Spirit and the prayers of family, friends and strangers every day.

I can hold this paradox without question: I never would choose cancer, but I wouldn’t trade this experience. The richness of God’s infusion into our lives more than compensated for the agony.

Counting blessings

And then there’s my face. Sure, it aggravates me. I don’t expect to look like George Clooney, but sometimes I’d like to look like I did before my first surgery. Now, those scars, and that divot beside my ear, and that droop on the right side of my face remind me of my blessings:

• A wife who loves me more than her next breath and really meant it when she said, “… until death do us part” almost four decades ago. She says she sees “the real” me, beyond the scars and contortion.

• Children and grandchildren who love me no matter what I look like and who—most of the time—think I’m funny.

• Parents and brother who have seen me in every phase of my life and know me so well they don’t even think about my appearance.

• My “little brother” whom I mentor, who never blinked or backed up, even when I looked more like Frankenstein than myself.

• Friends who love me and laugh with me and don’t give my face a second thought.

• A job in which I can get by with “a face for radio.”

• Honorable work, good books, wonderful music and deep breathing, all of which provided plenty of distraction when the pain was the worst.

• And most of all, a God who formed me and shaped every iteration of my life—this face included—who loves me beyond comprehension and who will go on loving me when I lay aside this earthly shell, face and all.

The contours of my face have provided me with a metaphor for God’s grace. Now I can’t—as if I ever could—be pretty enough to make my friends like me; they just do. And I can’t be whole enough, smart enough, hard-working enough, wise enough to make God love me; God just does.

Amen.

Follow Marv on Twitter, @marvknoxbs

Martin Knox has been pastor of Lakeshore Drive Baptist Church of Hudson Oaks in Weatherford two years. From deep in the heart of one Texan, he shares his background and thoughts on church and ministry. To suggest a Baptist General Convention of Texas-affiliated minister to be featured in this colum, or to apply to be featured yourself, click here.

Background

• Where else have you served in ministry, and what were your positions there?

Youth minister, Bethel Baptist Church, Bethel Acres, Okla.

Pastor, Calvary Baptist Church, Anna

Pastor, First Baptist Church, Justin

Pastor, Christ Fellowship Baptist Church, Green Bay, Wis.

Pastor, First Baptist Church, Grandview

Senior pastor, First Baptist Church, Temple

Senior pastor, Emmanuel Baptist Church, Rochester, Minn.

• Where did you grow up?

Born in Perryton

Elementary and middle school in Wichita Falls

High school in Central High, Okla.

• How did you come to faith in Christ?

I grew up in a pastor’s home and was told of Jesus early in my life. On a Sunday afternoon when I had been sent to take a nap, I felt Jesus knocking at the door of my heart. I chose to trust in Jesus. I made a public commitment that night at the evening service.

• Where were you educated, and what degrees did you receive?

Bachelor of arts in religion from Oklahoma Baptist University

Master of divinity from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary

Doctor of ministry from Truett Seminary in homiletics

Ministry/church

• Why do you feel called into ministry?

My first inkling ever of a call to ministry came when I was 8. It was brief, and I forgot about it for some time. When I was 14 at Falls Creek Baptist Confence Center, I knew God was calling me to something. I figured it was ministry but was unsure of the particulars. In about three months, at the age of 15, I knew God was calling me to be a pastor.

In fact, when I made a public commitmentof my call, I said God had called me to be a pastor. It was not that I had just been called to preach. I love that part of it, but it is more than just preaching. That call has always been consistent. Even when I knew God was calling me to resign a church one time without any place to go, I remained confident in my call and didn’t give any serious consideration to doing something else. God has compelled me to do this and to give myself to it.

• What is your favorite aspect of ministry? Why?

Preaching and people. I love to preach. I get to proclaim the gospel from the written word of God. That is an incredible honor. It is such a joy to share biblical truths and help people see their need for Jesus and how to follow Jesus.

I love people. I enjoy being with people. They invite me into intimate moments in their lives through hospitals, crises, funerals, births, weddings, personal victories and other opportunities. Working with people is a thrill. It does come with heartache at times, but the joys of relationships and investing in them far outweigh the heartache I’ve experienced. It is a joy to see people move into deeper commitment to the Lord and the church. I realize that at times I am in some small way part of that.

• What one aspect of congregational life gives you the greatest joy?

Relationships provide a lot of joy. Building relationships with the people I pastor is a lot of fun. It comes over coffee and meals and hallway conversations. It comes through hospital visits and funerals and births and weddings and numerous other events where we invest in each other’s lives. Mission trips have provided intensive relationship-building and shared experiences that have deepened relationships quickly.

Relationships allow me as a shepherd to know my flock and for them to know me. Since they know me and are willing to hear what I say, it increases the likelihood they will follow my leadership.

They also learn I’m a disciple on a journey with Jesus, just like them. I don’t have it all figured out, and I fail frequently.

• What one aspect of congregational life would you like to change?

I would love members to prepare themselves for corporate worship and arrive with an expectancy of what God might do. It would transform worship. Everyone would understand they have a significant role in worship.

Many people long for God to do something amazing in the local church. But few arrive with a real sense of expectancy of what God may do during that particular service. I’m guilty of this as well. But what might happen if we all prepared ourselves and gathered with an expectancy of what God might do?

• How has your ministry or your perspective on ministry changed?

Even though I grew up in church and in a pastor’s home, when I began my first pastorate at 22 and a first-semester seminary student, I had ideals about church and ministry. Reality removed those ideals.

While I pastor in the reality, I am still mindful of how it can be, but I work with people where they are in their spiritual journey. I see my role as a shepherd to help people move toward being faithful followers of Jesus Christ. Encouraging others is essential to this task. Part of that involves blessing people who are gone for work or vacations or family gatherings that cause them to miss church services and activities. I tell them to have fun and enjoy themselves. I also tell them we miss them and are glad they are back when they return.

Through preaching and conversations, I share what I understand the Bible presents for us, as followers of Christ, to be in our hearts, minds, words and actions.

It would be fun to have everyone at church every Sunday. That is not reality. Many are not missing because they are just staying at home, but instead are gone for work or family or fun. However, I’ve had to learn how to see commitment from people in terms of their actions and sacrifice and not in their attendance. That has taken stress off of me and allowed me to be encouraging and supportive of people.

Understanding this reality helps me work with them and hopefully bless them as they live their lives for Jesus.

• How do you expect congregational life to change in the next 10 to 20 years?

I think we will have to become more creative about how we actually accomplish ministry. Unless a revival and a spiritual awakening sweep our nation, and the current path continues, ministry will be increasingly challenging. How will we do that ministry? Creativity and entrepreneurship are needed to accomplish it.

I think we will learn to depend on God to provide what we need. I’m not saying we don’t now, but I think we lean a lot on our own understanding and have trust in our bank accounts to provide what is needed.

I also think we are going to have to be really serious about making disciples. We know we are to do so, but are we really doing it? We are to an extent, but that is going to need to be strengthened and deepened. Churches are going to need processes that help them know if people are actually maturing and moving toward being reproducing disciples.

• What qualities do you look for in a congregation?

Are they genuinely loving and friendly? That means to one another. That means to the staff. That means to the guest in the door. That means to the person in need.

Do they really want to do ministry? That involves everything from the end of the earth and back.

• Name the three most significant challenges and/or influences facing your congregation.

We face the challenge of being the unique congregation God has created us to be and living in that as we saturate our geographic region with disciples who live out their faith daily.

Every church wants to reach young families, so how do we do that in a meaningful way so that families understand we are making disciples of the parents and the children? That means we will not be about all fun and games, although we will have plenty of that along the way.

Our church has the good fortune to be in a growing county. People are moving our direction at a steady rate. That rate is predicted to continue in the years to come. That is a great influence on what we are doing now.

• What do you wish more laypeople knew about ministry or, specifically, your ministry?

I wish people knew how much heart pastors put into the work. We care deeply about the Lord and his church. We care deeply about the people.

I enjoy what I do. It is tiring and demanding at times, and I need breaks from it. But I love what I do, and I love those with whom I minister. I am so thankful to be in the place God has put me. I am humbled by God’s call to be a pastor.

Yet if a member family misses a couple of Sundays in a row, it is easy to start wondering if they are leaving. It happens to so many pastors; it has happened to me: A member family may think they are just missing a couple of Sundays and never think of going to another church, but they make their pastor and staff wonder, because all of us have seen those who leave or just quit attending. That adds stress to our lives.

About Baptists

• What are the key issues facing Baptists—denominationally and/or congregationally?

With common knowledge about megachurches and superstar pastors, even smaller churches—and most churches are smaller—feel the pressure to do things like the big churches and famous pastors do them. Rather, each church needs to be the best version of itself it can be and each pastor the best pastor he or she can be.

There is always pressure to grow, and many churches and pastors want to grow, but the reality is that most churches are not growing. Statistics tell us that time and again. However, each church can have and does have kingdom impact. It is fun to grow numerically, and I work all the time at helping my church grow numerically, but I also want us to grow in kingdom impact. That doesn’t always result in church growth, but it does result in the growth of the kingdom.

Many churches still have traditional roots. They face the challenge of how that heritage is honored while making changes that enable them to reach people today.

Baptist are traditionally conservative—theologically, ecclesiologically, politically, morally. How do we express that in winsome ways with a nation that is less so? How do we share our faith and stand up for our beliefs but do so in a way that expresses who we are without condemning others or being ugly in tone or words to people who are not like us? How do we express who we are so that others will actually listen? How do we set the tone for public discourse about matters of faith, morality, social issues and other important matters so that discussion is encouraged and in a way that people will listen to us?

We have to listen, and we have to model the way forward. The church can’t expect those not in the church to model the way. We must do so.

• What would you change about the Baptist denomination—state, nation or local?

I’d like Baptists to quit seeing other Baptists as the enemy. Let’s be mature enough to admit we are not going to agree on everything and maybe at times not on much, but we do agree on enough to be Baptists.

Just as many of us long for meaningful dialogues in our nation about matters of great importance, so many of us long for meaningful dialogues among Baptists about matters of great importance. I have my own Baptist bent but am learning and understanding that Baptists of other bents are doing good work. I don’t agree with them on some—many—things, but I need to acknowledge the good they are doing and cheer for them in that good.

I’d like to see pastors give greater importance to the denomination. Many pastors do not bother to attend an annual meeting because it is seen as an inconvenience, unimportant and irrelevant. I’ve seen meetings of all sizes—from the Ferrell Center at Baylor being filled to not even filling the Waco Convention Center. If you give to the Cooperative Program, it does matter.

Part of my commitment comes from having pastored in the Minnesota-Wisconsin Baptist Convention and and experiencing love for meetings because we got to see one another and share fellowship together. Many in smaller conventions would not understand why Texas Baptists would not take advantage of an opportunity to be together.

I understand there is work to be done at home. When I attend meetings, it makes for a tight week and some long hours, but I also am encouraged by being reminded of the vast work of Texas Baptists—or other Baptist groups—and I am encouraged by fellowship with others. Many of those others I only see once a year.

About Martin

• Who were/are your mentors, and how did/do they influence you?

Daddy, Marvin Knox. He was my pastor growing up and modeled for me preaching, pastoral care and living out a consistent faith in public and in private.

Bob Evans and Mack Roark. These two men were professors at OBU. They had been effective pastors but also were scholarly in their work, good preachers and fun to be around. They encouraged me to be the best pastor I can be, study well, preach the best I could each week, and give myself to the people I pastor.

Charles Wade. Charles and I have been friends for years, and he was my field supervisor for my D.Min. We spent steady and consistent time together. I learned a lot from him.

Hulitt Gloer. He was my faculty supervisor. He encouraged me a lot. He prayed for me. He challenged me. He affirmed me. We continue a friendship today.

Scott Willingham. Scott is not much older than I am but enough to be a little further along in ministry and in life situations. He is my friend, but he has shared a lot of wisdom with me that has helped me.

• What did you learn on the job you wish you learned in seminary?

Management. No one prepares you for the management and administration aspects of being a senior pastor. There are many.

Crisis. How do you handle a crisis? No one taght me that. And then, after handling a huge crisis for my church—a multi-million-dollar church fire set by an arsonist—a seminary professor told me he pulled out articles about my church every year to discuss that very topic in a pastoral ministry class. I asked, “Why don’t you ask me to come talk to them?” He didn’t give a solid answer and never invited. When I was in seminary, I would have much rather talked to the pastor who managed the crisis than read a story about it.

• What is the impact of ministry on your family?

Valorie and I have been blessed with four children. We are blessed by the fact all of them are believers in Jesus Christ and actively pursuing faithful discipleship. They love the church and love to attend church services and events.

They know not everything is perfect in the church, but they still love the church. Two of them have moved into adulthood and on their own are choosing faithfulness to the Lord and to the church. Our oldest told us while she was still in college she didn’t want to become one of the statistics of kids who grew up in church and then left it. Her husband is now a student at Truett Seminary and studying for the ministry.

• Name some of your favorite books (other than the Bible) or authors, and explain why.

David Hansen, The Art of Pastoring. It was the first book I read after completing my master’s degree, and it challenged me to pastor well. The author stressed the seriousness of study. He said he received more help from 10 pages of a theology book than he did from 100 pages of a how-to book. He asserted that as pastors studied seriously, prayed fervently, sought wise counsel and gave themselves to think critically about the matters they face in the church, they would have the guidance they needed and be able to make solid decisions as they provided leadership for the church. This aids in avoiding the temptation to implement what others have done without critically assessing how it fits in the pastor’s context.

C. S. Lewis & Eugene Peterson. They make me think. They help me know how to use words and find thoughtful ways to say what needs to be said.

Walter Brueggemann. He helps me understand the Old Testament. He also helps me see study can be done with a warm heart and a passionate faith.

I am a developing reader of poetry. I’ve feared it for years, but am engaging poetry now and am glad to do so. I attended a preaching conference last year where the speaker was poet Christian Wiman. Discussing poetry with an actual poet invigorated me and took away my fear of poetry, enabling me to engage it. I’m enjoying this new discovery.

• If you could get one “do over” in ministry, what would it be, and why?

I would have developed the practice of translating my texts for my sermons each week. I do that now with the New Testament, but I waited a long time to establish that discipline.

To read other “Deep in the Hearts of Texans” columns, click here.

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5)

Jake Raabe

The Apostle Paul wrote these words to the Corinthian church while making a sensitive request. The church in Jerusalem was in a desperate financial situation, and Paul was asking the Corinthians to set aside a special offering for them. Paul wanted the Corinthian Christians to give up their own limited resources—the early Christians were not a wealthy group—to assist a group of people they never met.

Even more, the Jerusalem Christians were mostly Jewish, and the Corinthian church was largely gentile. These two ethnic groups didn’t typically get along well, as the book of Acts attests.

Uncommon sense

When Paul told the Romans about the offering, he admitted he wasn’t even sure the Jewish Christians would accept gentile money (Romans 15:31). And even if the Corinthians did give and the Jerusalem church did accept the money, Paul was a controversial figure who would be traveling into a city where he was not particularly welcomed with a large sum of cash. Paul’s plan here doesn’t seem particularly well-thought-out.

If Paul came to one of our churches today to make a similar request, we’d probably tell him to use some common sense and drop the offering. We don’t want to give it, they don’t want to take it, and there’s a significant chance it will get you arrested or worse.

That’s assuming, of course, we would be willing to give to the poor in Jerusalem. We might also challenge him on that, and ask him why they can’t support themselves. Could they be making better financial decisions? Can’t they pick up some extra hours at work? If we give them money now, won’t that just enable them and start an endless cycle?

No worldly wisdom

Paul knew something that we would be forgetting—when God gives you something to do, you do it.

Paul was convinced God had told him to take up this offering, and no human reasoning, no amount of “common sense” was going to make him do otherwise. Paul was ready to “demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God.” When God speaks, there’s no “yes, but” for any reason. No matter how illogical or impractical it may seem, no matter how much it might not make sense according to worldly wisdom, “we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” Not “reason”; not “common sense.” Christ.

Those of us who live under the authority of Scripture have similar charges from God—to proclaim the Good News, to live a holy life, to provide for the poor, to seek peace. When we say “if we give money to the poor, then they won’t work” or “if we call this a sin, people won’t like us,” we’re putting human wisdom and arguments above the wisdom of God. When people submit themselves to the lordship of Christ, they forfeit their right to say “yes, but ….” Christian discipleship is all-encompassing, and it has no room for worldly wisdom.

Divine logic

I’m a hypocrite as I’m writing this. When Jesus says to “turn the other cheek” to one who has struck me, my first thought is “That’s impractical.” When I read in Deuteronomy that “there need be no poor among you,” I think to myself, “That’s too idealistic.” When Paul instructs us in Colossians to “rid yourselves of … anger” I pretend my anger actually is justified and acceptable. The list of commands from God that I ignore goes on and on.

I pray we as Christians would be more like Paul, who knew human logic and arguments have no standing before the word of God. I pray we would be people who do as God commands, rather than tell God why his plan needs adjustment.

When we make decisions, may we do so according to God’s wisdom. If he tells us to give to the poor, he probably knows what he’s talking about. If God tells us to be unified in respectful and loving fellowship with one another, it’s probably possible. If God commands us to take an offering from one hesitant church to another along a long, dangerous path, he’ll see us through it.

He’s God, after all. We aren’t.

Jake Raabe is a student at Baylor University’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary in Waco, Texas and a writer. Follow him on his Facebook page.

Father’s Day is upon us once again. While it doesn’t receive the fanfare of Mother’s Day—and rightfully so—it is an important day for us to recognize the men in our lives who have shaped, loved, protected and provided for us.

Zac Harrel

When you look at the research, there is no doubt fathers are an integral part of raising children and providing stability to a family. In our broken world, we see so many examples of failures on the part of fathers, which means when we see godly fathers who love, encourage and build up their children, we need to praise them as much as we can.

As we come to Father’s Day, I want to challenge those of us who are fathers to be the father God has called us to be, and I want to challenge us to this in three ways:

Simply be present.

Be there for your kids, for your family, as much as you possibly can. Your presence means more than you know. As fathers, sometimes we have difficulty expressing our feelings and communicating with our children. Being present allows us to say more than any of our words ever could. Showing up is not always enough, but it is a start.

We will not get to the end of our lives and wish we had stayed at work longer. The regrets we carry with us will be not being present in the lives of our family.

Be present in the moment. Give your children your full attention. Put your phone away for a while and play with your kids, listen to your family, hug them and kiss them and let them know you love them.

We will not be perfect, but we can be present.

Protect your family.

I don’t just mean physically. In fact, focusing only on physical protection sometimes causes us to abandon our call to protect our children spiritually and emotionally.

I have a 3-year-old daughter. I want my house to be a place where she feels safe physically, but I also want her to feel safe emotionally and spiritually. She needs an environment where she knows her Heavenly Father and her earthly father love her. I want my daughter to have emotionally healthy attachments throughout her life, and that begins with me. I want to protect her emotions where I can. I also want to protect her spiritually from what she intakes into her mind and heart to seeing the simplicity of the spiritual life.

Our kids need models of what it means to love God and love neighbor. They need examples of humble faith. They need a place where they can ask questions and bring doubts and struggle with the brokenness of the world.

Our homes need to be places of safety for our kids physically, emotionally and spiritually. As fathers, we must set the tone.

Pray for your family.

Pray continually for your wife and for your children. Pray with them, and pray for them. Our children should know we are fighting alongside them and for them in prayer. This is our most important work, and from the fruit of this discipline comes presence and protection. Out of the overflow of a life of prayer, we can be the fathers God has called us to be.

Pray over your children, teach them to pray and let them see you on your knees before the throne of God. Godly fathers are praying fathers.

We should celebrate the fathers in our lives. We should celebrate those who have loved us so well, even when that love has been imperfect.

For those of us who are fathers, we should take this day to reflect on how we have done in our calling. Have we been present? Have we protected our children? Have we prayed for our families?

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