The caboose of Christianity

We all have our blind spots. Clarity often comes only from the perspective of hindsight.

That’s what leaders of Bob Jones University confessed in apologizing for the independent, fundamentalist Christian school’s past racist policies.

A statement on the school's website reads in part: “For almost two centuries American Christianity, including BJU in its early stages, was characterized by the segregationist ethos of American culture. Consequently, for far too long, we allowed institutional policies regarding race to be shaped more directly by that ethos than by the principles and precepts of the Scriptures. We conformed to the culture rather than provide a clear Christian counterpoint to it. In so doing, we failed to accurately represent the Lord and to fulfill the commandment to love others as ourselves. For these failures we are profoundly sorry.”

African-American students were not permitted to attend the school until 1971 — some 17 years after the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Brown v. Board that public school segregation was unconstitutional. Only within the last decade has BJU dropped its policy forbidding interracial dating.

In other words: the secular Court interpreting a secular Constitution reached the right conclusion about God-given human equality well before these devout Christians interpreting the Bible they hold as divine truth.

The most significant aspect of this confession is found in the words: “We conformed to the culture rather than provide a clear Christian counterpoint to it.”

The continuing tragedy of fundamentalist American Christianity is the unwillingness to learn from mistakes. Past failures do not seem to bring any humility that would recognize the possibility of misinterpretations of the biblical revelation in the present or future.

It brings to mind a question I have raised before: When will the evangelical Christian church become the engine rather than the caboose concerning societal change regarding the basic biblical issues of justice, equality and compassion?

When land was taken from Native Americans and thousands died during forced, inhumane relocation, where was the Christian outcry?

When Baptists of the North questioned Baptists of the South on the issue of owning for economic benefit precious human beings of African decent created in the image of God, Southern Baptists just formed their own group.

When the secular government enforced public school desegregation, white conservative Christians just started their own schools.

Yet the unfailing fundamentalist mantra is that they alone stay true to Scripture while all others head down the path of cultural accommodation. (The opposite of what Bob Jones leaders admitted concerning their racist past.)

Just this month, when the Georgia Baptist Convention (GBC) pompously brushed aside the First Baptist Church of Decatur, Ga., for calling a female pastor, the charge was that the congregation had violated biblical truth and embraced secular social patterns.

In a letter to the GBC newspaper, The Christian Index, pastor Bobby Braswell Jr. of Guyton, Ga., wrote that the convention's action is "not a popular position in today's cultural climate, but we are following the dictates of Scripture, not culture."

Brother Bobby, so said the Baptist slaveholders; so said the good Christians who forced "savages" off the land they wanted; so said the earlier leaders of Bob Jones University in forbidding African-American students from studying at their "Christian" school — and on and on.

It is amazing how fundamentalist Christians — many decades after societal change occurs through the motivation of secular forces and more-attuned Christians and those of other faith traditions — can confess that they "conformed to the culture" at the expense of biblical truth. Yet they cannot — in the present tense — humbly allow for even the remotest possibility that any current blind spots might exist.

If so, at the very least the self-righteous leadership of the GBC would have left the Decatur congregation alone to suffer in their "error." But, no, they had to straighten them out.

Why? Because fundamentalists don't think Paul's admission that we all see through dark glass applies to them. Because they do not learn from their own tragic history.

Or, more specifically, it is because that is the nature of fundamentalism. It is marked by a resistance to change, a proclivity toward propping up one's predetermined belief system with isolated biblical texts, and an attitude of condemnation toward those (even other Christians) who would dare hold a different viewpoint.

Fundamentalist Christians are always denouncing "secular" society. But thank God for a secular court and a secular Constitution — and open-minded, compassionate religious peoples of varied traditions — that lead us to truth pertaining to basic (biblical) concerns of human justice.

But never fear ... somewhere way, way, way back there, the caboose will be coming.

Humor helps

An Atlanta-to-Houston flight earlier this week was enhanced by the wit of a Delta flight attendant. As I boarded, she was handing a coat hanger to one of the pilots.

"He needs to make a couple of repairs before we leave," she deadpanned. A smile did not break across her face until I laughed.

Later, as she moved through the cabin, a man accidentally bumped into her while getting settled into his seat.

"No touching the dancers," she said — wagging her finger at the slightly-embarrassed passenger. It brought more smiles.

Just a little lightheartedness can go a long way. Good humor enhances the routines of life.

Last night's return flight, however, was different. Though a packed airplane, the flight attendants chatted in the back without providing any help in getting passengers on board and the carry-on luggage stored.

Briefcases, jackets, camera bags and blankets filled the overhead space needed for luggage. Even when asked, the flight attendants did nothing to manage the situation.

A flippant, "We made an announcement," was the only response.

Then — when the obvious occurred — the flight attendants pulled many of our suitcases (that could have gone above) off the plane and checked them. Then blamed passengers for the delay.

Interestingly, as we prepared for landing, a young male flight attendant apologized that so many bags had to be checked. He added: "You can go to Delta.com if you have any suggestions about how to do this better."

You could hear the laughter in response. The answer was so obvious: "Do your job — and manage the boarding process!"

I was relieved when my bag appeared (after another unnecessary delay) on the baggage claim carousel in Atlanta. It could have been worse, since the flight's final destination was Dubai.

Yes, in the daily experiences of life, humor sure does help. And throw in a little competency and efficiency for good measure.

Proper perspective

My colleague Keithen Tucker attended the Macon Touchdown Club on Monday night to hear Mark Richt, head football coach at the University of Georgia (the alma mater of another colleague, Tony Cartledge).

Keithen shared with me that Coach Richt began his address by noting that he was in Macon, Ga., earlier to help raise money to drill wells in Africa. He explained that without the fresh water from the wells, residents were required to walk eight miles to collect unsanitary water that has to be boiled before consumed.

"Now that we have things in perspective," Richt added, "we can talk about our team's 9-2 season."

Those who enjoy the competitiveness of college football and other sports can be guilty of taking such recreational experiences too seriously. We need the coach's timely and important reminder.

Now here's wishing Coach Richt and the Bulldogs a good 9-3 season.

Come to Macon; hear Pat Terry

During my interview with Pat Terry, that appeared in the November issue of Baptists Today, the talented Nashville songwriter and Christian music pioneer said he was itching to get back on stage after a long absence. I suggested Macon, Ga., as a good place — and he agreed.

With the fine efforts of Jim Dant (the only Baptist pastor with an autographed Alice Cooper guitar in his study), the concert has been set for Thursday,Dec. 4, at the historic Douglass Theatre (355 MLK Jr. Blvd.) in downtown Macon. It's a great venue where Otis Redding, James Brown and Little Richard used to perform.

In the words of Neil Diamond: "Pack up the babies; grab the old ladies; everyone goes." The concert is free thanks to support from The Brainstorm Lab and local Baptist churches (including Highland Hills, First Baptist of Macon, Mt. Zion and Greenwood).

In case you missed the interview (electronic subscriptions available here), Pat has quietly gained success as a songwriter over the past couple of decades. His work has been recorded by Travis Tritt, Alan Jackson, Oak Ridge Boys, Gaither Vocal Band, John Anderson, Kenny Chesney and others.

In this rare concert, Pat will play a wide variety of his music including some old Pat Terry Group hits from the '70s as well as cuts from the just-recorded CD, "Laugh for a Million Years," his first album in 20 years.

It is a great opportunity for a road trip — as some of Pat's Atlanta-area fans are already planning to do. We want to fill the Douglass on Dec. 4 and invite you to join us for this special evening.

(For a taste of Pat's latest music, visit patterryonline.com.)

GBC tackles old bus problem

As mentioned in the blog below, the Georgia Baptist Convention (GBC) passed a policy earlier this week that gives Executive Director Bob White and the GBC Administration Committee the authority to reject undesired donations.

Committee member John Waters, pastor of the First Baptist Church of Statesboro, Ga., explained in a Baptist Press article that the GBC can now refuse unwanted gifts such as old buses.

Interestingly, during my 18 years as a GBC employee I never heard of the great old bus dilemma. Glad that is being resolved and that all the brothers and submissive sisters gathered in Jonesboro, Ga., were given the chance to vote on this significant matter.

We wouldn't want any top-down decision making going on in Southern Baptist life. That would violate the priesthood of the believer and local church autonomy.

This way, everybody can feel like they had a part in addressing this significant issue that will impact cooperative missions and ministry across the state for decades. Uh...wait a minute.

The Baptist Press article (based on reporting by Georgia Baptist editor Gerald Harris) does go on to mention that the new policy will allow GBC leaders to reject mission gifts from (and therefore end cooperation with) the First Baptist Church of Decatur, Ga., a congregation that called a female pastor last year.

Apparently, cooperating with this historic church in an effort to fulfill the Great Commission is a big problem — almost as threatening as all those old buses people apparently keep leaving in the parking lot of the GBC's pristine headquarters northeast of Atlanta.

But, Georgia Baptists, you can rest easy now.

Isolation and irrelevancy

In another deliberate and continuous move toward isolation and irrelevancy, the Georgia Baptist Convention (GBC) approved a policy yesterday that gives leadership the right to reject cooperation with congregations deemed to be out of line with Southern Baptists' ever-narrowing doctrine.

Though broadly defined, the policy has a single purpose: to appease the fundamentalist brothers who want to take a slap at the First Baptist Church of Decatur, Ga., for daring to call a female pastor last year.

Baptist congregations in Georgia can call an idiot, a bigot or even a crook — apparently — as long as the pastor is male. But a competent and called female pastor — like Julie Pennington-Russell — is considered an offense.

"What about local church autonomy?," you ask. Well conventions are autonomous too.

And the GBC's most recent use of its freedom is consistent with the irrational, far-right fundamentalism that captured the state association of churches several years ago.

In reality, they did the Decatur congregation a big favor. The tragedy is that many other congregations that see this (and other GBC actions) as nonsense will continue to support such heavy-handedness in the name of "missions."

Southern Baptists apologized for their defense and advancement of slavery a mere 150 years after abolition. Perhaps Georgia Baptists will want to pencil in 2158 on the denominational calendar as a good time to apologize to women — and people of all gender who think. That is, if they are still in business.

[Photo: GBC Executive Director J. Robert White, a former proponent of women in ministry, who now does the bidding for the fundamentalist big-boys running the convention]

...for such a mutt as I

In his first news conference since the election, President-elect Barack Obama responded to reporters' questions on Monday about the economy, energy, foreign policy and what kind of new puppy would accompany his two daughters to the White House.

He concluded his response to the less-serious question (except in the minds of Sasha and Malia) by saying they would likely get a mutt — and then added, "like me." It was a casual, comfortable and humorous reference to his interracial heritage.

In many cultures, including the ones in which many of us were raised, persons were overwhelmingly defined by racial makeup. While my childhood friends would brag about being 1/16th Cherokee, a child with a black father and white mother lived in shame for something over which they had no control.

Terms like "half-breed" or worse were used to describe them. One's ethnicity was used as a noun rather than one of many adjectives.

No one is foolish enough to think America is close to solving all its racial issues. But the presence of the Obama family — regardless of political persuasions — is more than a giant step in the right direction.

Tiger Woods beamed a bigger smile than after any of his one zillion golf titles when noting that America will now have an interracial president — like him.

And for those many other interracial persons who can't give riveting stump speeches or hit 300-yard drives, at least they might now live with a fuller understanding of their human value as being created in the image of God.

There are no pure-breeds. To paraphrase Will D. Campbell: "We are all (mutts), but God loves us anyway."

Something to say

Insight and inspiration don't come in even doses. A veteran pastor, when speaking of preaching, told me long ago: "Sometimes you have something to say; sometimes you have to say something."

Writing editorials, blogs, etc. is the same way. There are times when the words flow freely — and times when you search for the logjam in your mind.

Such is the end of this week after finally submitting the last article for the next issue of Baptists Today. My think tank is on low.

We've all been told: "If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all."

Some good additional advice may be: If you can't say something wise — use as few words as possible to get by.

(Now get off the computer and get some exercise.)

A lasting image

The election night demeanor of 68-year-old Congressman John Lewis is one to remember. He was solemn and reflective — not giddy like part of a post-game victory celebration.

Partisan politics aside, Lewis — like Sen. John McCain — is a true American hero. While McCain's courage played out on the Communist soil of North Vietnam, Lewis suffered undeserving abuse in his own Southern homeland in a effort to simply secure the basic human rights already affirmed in the nation's defining documents.

Demonstrating the kind of faith and hope that marked his generation of civil rights advocates, Lewis said Tuesday night that he genuinely believed America's attitude toward race could change. Yet, it must have been overwhelming — and deservedly satisfying — for him to see the election of an African American to the nation's highest office in his lifetime.

My mind went back to a time in the mid-'80s just before Lewis joined the U.S. Congress. We were having lunch together at the civil rights landmark, Pascal's Restaurant and Motor Lodge in Atlanta.

Lewis had agreed to speak to a group of international students from various colleges and universities around the nation who were spending their Christmas break in Atlanta-area homes through the Friendship International House program. Students from around the world are drawn to Atlanta — which they quickly identify with Martin Luther King Jr. and Coca-Cola.

While the students picked with interest at the fried chicken, greens, cornbread and peach cobbler, Lewis casually talked to me with no idea that his words would become so embedded in my mind.

He talked of feeling an early call to ministry and practicing his preaching as a youngster before the chickens on his family's Alabama farm. He told of attending the American Baptist College (Seminary) in Nashville that was then an educational partnership between the Southern Baptist Convention and the National Baptist Convention, USA, to train black ministers.

At one point he spoke of the significance of Pascal's Restaurant — which he called "the unofficial communications center of the civil rights movement" and a rare place in the early '60s for blacks and whites to gather in public.

"You could come in here and see Bobby Kennedy at a table in the corner talking with a civil rights leader," he said.

Then glancing around the back room where our group had gathered, he added: "This room is the last place where I saw Martin alive." Then he talked about the details of that and other nonviolent strategy meetings.

It has been a long journey for John Lewis and for this nation. With a most sincere look on his face late Tuesday night, Lewis seemed keenly aware that he had arrived at a destination a long way from the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

To believe that a nation can change its narrow ways of thinking requires the kind of great faith and great hope seen on the Baptist congressman's face.

Polling the polling place

Equipped with comfortable shoes and a large cup of hazelnut coffee, I arrived at my designated polling place, Northside Christian Church in Macon, Ga., at 6:38 AM.

A quick count showed 64 persons ahead of me — or, as a pastor would put it, "about 300."

Some of the earliest birds brought lawn chairs. The parking lot filled quickly after my arrival.

The Baptist in front of me and the Methodist in front of him talked about churches — a popular topic in the buckle of the Bible Belt.

The doors opened at 7:00 AM and by 7:22 I had signed in, presented my photo I.D., weaved through a maze of pews and arrived at a vacant voting machine.

It was quicker than anticipated. How 'bout you?

Can I pull for the Dodgers?

As an Atlanta Braves fan through thick and thin, pulling against the Los Angeles Dodgers was almost as much fun as pulling for my home team. Former Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda, one of the sport's greatest ambassadors, egged it on.

For many years (until 1994) the Braves were in the geographically-incorrect National League Western Division with the Dodgers, creating a good rivalry. Some crucial late season, West Coast games in the early '90s would go well into the night creating mass sleep deprivation across the Southeast and elsewhere due to TBS Super Station fans.

So the news that my favorite minor league team, the Chattanooga Lookouts, has become the AA franchise of the L.A. Dodgers is..., well, OK — I think. It comes after 21 years of affiliation with the Cincinnati Reds.

One of my most enjoyable places in the world to relax is AT&T Field, high atop Hawk Hill in downtown Chattanooga. We even had our daughter's ninth birthday party there once — with her cousins from Johnson City, Tenn. joining us.

My brother-in-law Scott and I stumbled into the stadium the night before, after dinner and a rain delay, and were among the lucky few to witness Mississippi Braves manager Phillip Wellman's classic tirade.

At other times I've enjoyed the Scenic City baseball alone or with good friends like Doc Avery. Occasionally, I have bumped into childhood buddies I grew up with just south of the state line.

But the idea of pulling for any aspect of the Dodgers' organization was never a consideration.

Aside from the great rivalry, there are things I've long admired about the Dodgers: Jackie Robinson breaking the race barrier, the great pitching duo of Koufax and Drysdale, and Dodgertown in Vero Beach (the best spring training experience in Florida that has sadly run its course).

During an interview with Dodger pitching great Orel Hershiser, when his book Between the Lines: Nine Things Baseball Taught Me about Life came out in 2002, I confessed to "the Bulldog" (as Manager Lasorda called him) that I had always liked Dodgers as individuals just not as a group.

But come this spring and summer, I will do the unthinkable and pull for the AA prospects in Chattanooga. I may even wear Dodg..., uh, Lookouts Blue.