Dennis Young has been pastor of Missouri City Baptist Church in Missouri City 25 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 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 also served at South Park Baptist Church in Houston as music director and associate minister 14 years.

• How did you come to faith in Christ?

I grew up in a Christian home—always in church, accepted Christ at an early age and was baptized.

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

I received my bachelor of arts degree from Brooklyn College in Brooklyn, N.Y., and my master’s degree and doctorate from Houston Graduate School of Theology in Houston.

Ministry/church

• Why do you feel called into ministry?

I knew from the age of 8 that I was called to serve in ministry—pastor. In my high school yearbook, listed below my picture in response to what is my projected vocation, my response was “Theology.” At an early age, I was preaching to family members each time the family gathered for any occasion.

• What is your favorite aspect of ministry? Why?

I have several favorite aspects of ministry: Visitation, counseling, preaching and teaching. In all of these I am able to instruct, influence—in a positive manner—and encourage those who feel disenfranchised, discouraged and depressed.

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

The one aspect of congregational life that gives me the greatest joy is fellowship. In too many instances today, the importance of fellowship is not fully realized within congregations. Fellowship involves Christians being in the company of each other, sharing with each other and supporting each other. The church should be a family—family and fellowship go hand in hand.

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

In the early years of my pastorate, I tried to live a perfect life and expected the same from the members. However, as I grew in the ministry I realized no one is perfect. My earlier experience has aided my current ministry and, as a result, my ministry has been enriched. I am a better pastor in terms of relating/ministering to members, individuals in the community, city or state.

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

Over the next 10 to 20 years I anticipate a lot of changes in congregational life. Note the following:

Streaming will increase; church attendance will continuously decline.

Millennials will continue to stray away from the church; church attendance will continue to decline.

Members’ commitment to church will decline, having a feeling that they can stay at home, view the service on TV and enjoy it just as if they went to church.

Platform critics will vastly increase

Congregations will need to spend much time addressing the subject of mental health. Currently, one out of four persons living in the United States is experiencing mental illness. They are in the church every week. Mental illness often leads to depression, and there have been several pastors who have committed suicide over the past few years as a result of being depressed. Currently, more and more pastors are coming forth sharing that they have been experiencing depression and are having a difficult time doing ministry—preaching, teaching, counseling, etc.

• What qualities do you look for in a congregation?

A congregation should always exude a sense of friendliness, a sense of family, a sense of caring, and be an example of “Christian” living.

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

The many lonely days a pastor experiences.

The sacrifices a pastor makes for his congregation.

The many hours a pastor spends in prayer for the church, the city, the county, the state, the United States and the world.

The many hours a pastor spends studying in preparation for Bible study, Sunday morning’s message, etc.

The pastor is also human.

The members of the congregation are all ministers.

About Dennis

• What is the impact of ministry on your family?

My wife is a pastor’s daughter and has been a great source of support throughout my ministry. She currently serves as president of the Women’s Ministry.

I have two children, and they are both involved in leadership roles within the church I pastor. My daughter is a graduate of Baylor University, and my son—Houston Community College and the University of Houston.

While I have had to—and still do—give many hours to ministry, which has resulted and continues to result in me sacrificing my family on many occasions, my family has always been, and continues to be, in full support of my ministry. Not only have they been supportive and continue to be, they have been and are tremendous encouragers.

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

My favorite Bible verse is Psalm 27:2. Satan is desperately trying to destroy the church, and he has figured out that if he destroys the head, the body would die. Therefore, as a pastor, I know that he is consistently after me. This verse encourages me every day. As Satan shoots his arrows at me daily, I fear not; I worry not, because the verse tells me that when my enemy attacks he will “stumble and fall.”

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

My favorite Bible character is David. He is one of the biblical characters who teaches us about dualistic living—we are Christians, but we are still human beings, born in sin and shaped in iniquity. He also encourages us to realize that when we sin, we can go to the Father and ask for forgiveness. David struggled greatly throughout his life. However, he always seemed to recognize his sin and continuously called on the Lord for help.

My colleague Bob Dale often asks me a simple question: “Bill, what are we hearing out there in the churches?”

Bill Wilson

He knows that every week members of our team are fanning out across the country to work in dozens of churches of every size, shape, denomination, setting and orientation. We hear and see first-hand what many others only know second-hand.

The news is usually a mix. Some churches and clergy are fully awake and leaning into the challenge of being a vibrant and thriving church in the 21st century. Others are frustrated and bewildered by the challenges they face. They tend to want to revert back to what worked in an earlier programmatic era rather than embrace the new. When that, inevitably, doesn’t work, the mood and tone of the church often turns dark.

Litany of woes

The halls are filled with anxious deacons or elders and worried finance committee members. During these rocky times, a familiar scenario seems to play out in many churches. Attendance is trending down. Offering plate receipts are sliding. Soon, budget adjustments have to be made. And since the vast majority of a typical congregation’s budget is fixed—on facilities and personnel—mission and ministry dollars bear the heaviest cuts. Despite belt-tightening in increasingly creative ways, the bottom line remains troubling.

Into this highly anxious mix a voice begins to be heard. The Bible calls it “murmuring.” It is a voice that seeks someone to blame for the metrics and economic ills that plague the congregation.

Leviticus 16 describes a community-blaming practice known as “scapegoating.” On the Day of Atonement, an innocent goat was burdened with the sins of the people and sent out into the wilderness to perish. The goat’s death was an attempt to distract judgment from the actual sinners, of course.

Thankfully, Jesus brought us a much more appropriate way to deal with our sin when he taught us about grace, repentance, forgiveness and redemption.

Someone to blame

Sadly, scapegoating has become far too common among people as a means of diverting attention from actual causes to projected ones. When we find someone to blame for some event or reality that seems out of our control, we absolve ourselves of the need to self-reflect and never consider the possibility we may be part of the problem, or the problem is much more complex than we would want to believe.

One of the reports from the frontline of the American church is that clergy and other leaders increasingly are being blamed for societal shifts that they have no control over. Never mind that nearly every congregation established prior to 1970 has experienced significant declines in attendance and financial support in recent years. If it happens in our church, there are those who believe it is their calling to find someone to blame and to do so loudly and regularly.

Many clergy are living in fear that the blame for such declines will be laid at their feet alone. Granted, clergy need to take the lead in being responsible, proactive and innovative with regard to declines, but there are seasons when only measuring success by counting “nickels and noses” will result in negative results for nearly everyone. When that happens, the temptation to scapegoat often will rear its ugly head.

Unfortunately, the opportunity to go deep beneath the symptoms and ask important and challenging questions about how we do church, why we do what we do, how we have cheapened discipleship and a host of others is lost. Scapegoating always is ugly, usually very expensive and blatantly un-Christian.

What if …?

What if, instead of scapegoating, we use our season of crisis to re-evaluate how we live out the Great Commandments and Great Commission in our particular time and place? What if, instead of resorting to blaming, we drop to our knees and collectively began to open our hearts to the possibility God is about a new thing among us? What if, rather than buy into the notion that replacing a pastor or minister will solve our problem, we dig deeper and discover how to be the church in a culture, time and place that no longer implicitly supports our efforts to do so? What if we stop pointing fingers and instead grasp each other’s hands and support one another during this rough stretch?

These are challenging days to be and do church. Could we agree on that? Then, might we join together to launch out into our new world as a united group of men and women who are willing to adapt and adjust to the changing landscape of congregational life?

If that sounds familiar, you might want to re-read the book of Acts. What you will hear from that church will reassure you and inspire you.

Bill Wilson is director of the Center for Healthy Churches.

One of the more interesting religion stories of the young summer has been Tim Farron’s decision to step down as leader of Britain’s Liberal Democrat party, succumbing to the challenge of reconciling his Christian faith with his political leadership.

Marv Knox

The Liberal Democrats took a unique stand in Britain’s recent snap elections. Theirs was the only party with national reach that offered Britons another referendum on leaving the European Union. But they failed to gain support, and their campaign staggered under questions about Farron’s faith and political fitness.

“From the very first day of my leadership, I have faced questions about my Christian faith,” particularly regarding homosexuality, Farron said in a Reuter’s news article. “I’ve tried to answer with grace and patience. Sometimes, my answers could have been wiser.”

No answers

Ultimately, he couldn’t provide answers to assuage the left wing of his left-leaning party.

“Farron … concluded that it was impossible for him to stay as leader of a progressive, liberal party and live as a committed Christian, despite not seeking to impose his views on others,” Reuters reported.

Farron’s departure has left Christians in Britain wondering if they have a place in their nation’s politics. “His resignation reflects the fact that we live in a society that is still illiberal in many ways and is intolerant of political leaders having a faith,” explained Sarah Latham, director of the Liberal Democrat Christian Forum. “This urgently needs to change. It will change only if Christians step up and get involved in all areas of life and change the rhetoric.”

Of course, both politics and cultural responses to religion are different in Great Britain and the United States. Farron’s departure scenario would not necessarily play out in the U.S. political system. Still, this situation points to the necessity of robust, active faith involvement in both American political parties.

Vacuum will be filled

If people of faith abandon our national public square, the vacuum will be filled. Most certainly, it will be filled by partisans whose political, economic and social values do not reflect standards of faith. Quite likely, it will be filled by those who claim religious people have no right to assert their opinions about the public good.

This would represent an epic loss, not simply for people of faith, but for the nation as a whole.

Believe it or not—and partisans from the poles of the political parties do not—some Americans affiliate with both the Republican and Democratic parties precisely because of their faith.

This is most obvious with the Republicans, whose political base has been bolstered by evangelical Christians and conservative Catholics more than four decades. As even casual observers know, many of these voters are motivated by two faith-fueled positions—eliminating abortion and opposing same-sex marriage. These are the headline issues that grab national attention as they galvanize a huge cohort of voters.

Some Republicans likewise vote as they do because their small-government political philosophy reflects their religious views regarding thrift, stewardship and individual responsibility.

Likewise, a significant number of Democrats follow their spiritual consciences into the voting booth. They champion support for the poor, the disadvantaged and the otherwise marginalized because they believe Jesus and the prophets commanded them to look out for “the least” among society.

Some Democrats also vote as they do because they believe Jesus commanded them to be “salt” and “light,” and so they should use their influence—on the ballot and on the public square—to encourage society to care for the underdogs.

Needed voices

A significant number of Christian Republicans can’t believe a pro-choice Democrat who affirms same-sex marriage can be a Christian. And some Christian Democrats have a hard time understanding how a Republican who supports laws and policies that hurt poor people, children, the elderly and the chronically ill can be a Christian, either.

The truth is Christian Republicans and Democrats vote exactly as they do precisely because of how they read the Bible. To the consternation of the other, both parties need them—not for their voting power, but for their conscience.

Even when they disagree—perhaps especially when they disagree—people of faith bring a badly needed perspective to their political parties. They remind their colleagues politics is not simply about power, economics, philosophy and elections. Their presence speaks to the transcendence of moral principle, of speaking up for values.

This is true, even though it is paradoxical. Principled conservative and liberal people of faith bring value to their political parties. Sometimes, they yield to the temptation to put party ahead of principle. But across the longer arc of time, they point beyond expediency to virtue.

America needs people of robust faith involved in politics. If either party throws them out—and don’t kid yourself; it could happen in both parties—their voices will not be heard in the public square, calling for transcendent values.

Follow Marv on Twitter, @marvknoxbs

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