What does "M Night" mean to you?

Suppose you have made it to "Final Jeopardy" and the answer is "M Night." What would you scribble down as your question?

Alex Trebek would nod approvingly if you offered: "Who is the Indian-American writer and director of such films as The Sixth Sense?" (That would be M. Night Shyamalan.)

But "M Night" means "Mirth, Music, Mondays and Merrymaking" (see photo) to those who gather at the Yellow Deli in Chattanooga for weekly Israeli folk dancing. (If you're not into Israeli folk dancing, just show up anytime for a great sandwich and papaya juice, and to gaze at the '60s-'70s inspired decor.)

But for those of us bred in the deepest traditions of Southern Baptist life, "M Night" — no matter how widely used today — means only one thing.

Associations of Southern Baptist churches would host an annual event called "M (Mobilization) Night" that brought out the competitive nature of neighboring congregations unlike anything other than church-league softball.

Tied to Sunday evening educational programs (known as Training Union and then Discipleship Training, with roots in BYPU), congregations rallied to be well represented at the annual event — and, ultimately, to bring home the M Night banner that would be proudly displayed on a church wall until the next M Night when they would have to defend the crown.

For example, the Oct. 29, 1971 edition of the Rome News-Tribune reported that the Floyd County Baptist Association drew nearly 1,000 persons to the First Baptist Church of Rome, Ga., for the annual M Night.

Park Avenue Baptist Church took home the banner with 80 members in attendance. And Mount Vernon Baptist Church was recognized for having 33 percent of its Church Training members present.

Oh, it was a different time and place. But for those of us who grew up in such environments, the mark never leaves us.

With apologies to Jeff Foxworthy, you were probably raised Southern Baptist if "M Night" means going to an annual association meeting.

Or:

-If Saturday nights involved polishing shoes and studying Sunday school lessons.

-If you made ashtrays in Vacation Bible School that lasted for two weeks each summer.

-If you measured your faithfulness in terms of the little boxes you could check on your offering envelope each Sunday.

-If you've heard hundreds of different persons pray that God would "lead, guide and direct us."

-If as a young person you "rededicated your life" occasionally on Sunday morning for something you did (or thought about doing) on Saturday night.

Deleting millions

Some people send me the nicest emails. Like Rosemary, who addressed me as “dearest one,” and James who called me “beloved friend.”

Although we’ve never met, they trust me to be “a good, honest and reliable person” and seek my trust in return. They also prayed and sensed divine direction before contacting me.

Rosemary’s late father was a wealthy gold and diamond dealer in Sierra Leone who was poisoned by a business associate. She wants me to have 20 percent of the more than $18 million dollars her father left in a secret bank account.

James, a 58-year-old widower suffering from brain cancer, wants me to have the same percentage of his more than $10 million dollars being held in the Ivory Coast. His email assured that he is a “true Christian.”

Getting this money into my hands is his last wish. Such generosity astounds me.

Unbelievably, Rosemary and James are not alone. Such opportunities come often.

Yet, week after week, I keep deleting these offers — even after taking my daughter to the orthodontist and hearing the price of braces.

But money is not everything. Just the nice things they say about me in their emails make me feel special. I’m sure they would not send such sweet words and offers of easy wealth to just anyone.

What image is being protected?

On Tuesday, messengers to the annual Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) meeting in Louisville were quick to toss out Broadway Baptist Church in Fort Worth for being too inclusive of homosexuals in their congregation.

The decision was based on Southern Baptist leaders' investigations and perceptions rather than any policy decisions by the Texas congregation that asked to continue their 125-year connection with the denominational group.

SBC leaders, however, wanted stronger/clearer anti-homosexual assurances from the church in order to "protect the reputation of the Convention," said attorney August Boto, executive vice president of the SBC's Executive Committee, according to an ABP report.

That's where Boto and those he represents keep missing the boat. Either SBC leaders can't step back far enough to see how they are truly perceived or they relish being known for their smug, quick-to-judge, self-assured, log-in-the-eye reputation.

A little New Testament reading could be of help. Jesus had a soiled reputation for hanging around with the "wrong people."

The Pharisees, on the other hand, were intent on staying pure in reputation by avoiding association with anyone who did not think or act exactly like them. (In fact the name "Pharisee" is derived from a word meaning "pure.")

Boto and other SBC leaders should have no fear. Their widespread reputation is secure.

Oh, well. Here we go again. Another year of explaining to friends, colleagues and casual acquaintances: "No, no. I'm not that kind of Baptist."

Would it make you proud?

The recent LG U.S. National Texting Championship in New York required contestants to send a text in 60 seconds while running on a treadmill, translate text-message abbreviations and text the alphabet while blindfolded.

A 14-year-old Georgia girl, the youngest in the competition, came in second with her older stepsister in third place. The nimble-fingered skills come from hours and hours of sending text messages (in the hundreds) each day.

Which raises the question in my mind: Should such acclaim make a parent proud?

No, thanks. I want my daughters to see the world with their heads up on occasion.

But it is a challenge in a hi-tech culture. And no one wants to be left behind by a failure to effectively use available communication technology.

Like everything else, however, it is a matter of balance.

With school out for the summer, my daughters spend a lot more time engaged with a computer. I fear too much stimulation from simulation games.

So they often hear from me: "Off the computer" — followed by an unwelcome announcement that bikes, hikes and ballgames are on the agenda as well.

I want them to exercise more than their thumbs and to actually talk face-to-face with another human being.

Texting is a good communication tool — in moderation. But for many teens, and perhaps others, it has become an obsession 4COL (for crying out loud).

Eyewitness to history

My friend Marshall Kerlin was knelt down in the aisle behind home plate in old Atlanta Stadium on April 8, 1974 when Hank Aaron hit home run #715 to surpass Babe Ruth. I've heard about it over and over again for more than 30 years.

While I watched it on TV, Marshall reminds me, he was an eyewitness to baseball history.

Someday I may see something equally memorable, but it's doubtful. Nothing seems to stack up. World series and six-hit games (by Cal Ripkin and Willie Harris) were unusual, but pale in historical comparison.

The closest I can get to making Marshall jealous is the fact that I was among the few gathered in Chattanooga two years ago when Mississippi Braves (and former Lookouts) manager Phillip Wellman put on a remarkable display of displeasure with an umpire's call.

Does it compare to Hank's feat? Not even close.

But it was one to remember. Crawling up behind the pitcher's mound, Wellman tossed the rosin bag toward the umpire like a grenade.

My case has been strengthened by the fact that millions have viewed the episode on YouTube and ESPN placed it as number one in its all-time top sports meltdowns.

Even with high-tech video, there is something unique about being an eyewitness to something others have not seen in person.

This is quite a leap, I know. But whenever I read the writings of Paul in the New Testament, I get a sense that he knew just how historically close he had come to (yet narrowly missed) witnessing Jesus in person.

That is why the Gospels are so important to us. We value the firsthand accounts of those who witnessed something significant with their very own eyes. And nothing could have been more significant than to have seen and heard Jesus.

Yet the disciples never seemed to rub it in. They just had very important stories to tell - ones that benefit those throughout history who are wise enough read and heed them.

CAUTION: Demolition work continues

An Atlanta man learned Monday that his family home in Carrollton, Ga., had been demolished. Apparently the destruction crew showed at the wrong address.

According to an Atlanta Journal-Constitution report, the house had been built by the man’s father and was filled with wonderful memories.

“It’s where all 10 Byrd children grew up, where they gathered to pray, where they lined up youngest to oldest for Christmas gifts, where they recall dad dispensing life lessons from the front porch,” the newspaper reported. “It’s where neighbors would walk over to eat watermelons, peanuts and sweet potatoes, and rehearse for the choir.”

Such is the case for many who once called the Southern Baptist Convention home. It is where many of us grew up, gathered to pray, shared joy and learned life lessons.

But that home is long gone too — although the demolition efforts will continue in Louisville later this month. Bring your own crowbar or sledgehammer.

The focus will be on such important Kingdom causes as whether to change or retain the current failed bureaucracy and whether it is essential to be baptized by a “true Baptist” in a “true Baptist” church in order to be a “true Baptist.”

And, of course, they will have to decide what to do with the California nut they laughed with for years, and even elected as SBC vice president, who recently told Fox News that he is praying for the death of President Obama. Even Southern Baptists can only embrace extremism so far.

However, it is encouraging to hear some new voices recognizing that what was sold as a conservative resurgence turned out to be a demolition derby.

But, for most of us, seeing our former house destroyed is no longer deeply emotional like it must have been for the Georgia man and his family this week. We are living comfortably somewhere else.

So swing away.

Misused words

The bright yellow "Clearance" sign at Lowe's was affixed to a replacement exterior door — when I was in need of one. I hustled over to check out the "deal."

The total price deduction was 5 percent. Excuse me, Lowe's management, but that is not a "Clearance" price.

When I am finally put in charge of the world, putting the word "Clearance' on anything that is not marked down by at least 50 percent will be a punishable crime. In this case, I would sentence the person at Lowe's who came up with this deceptive practice to a month of daily mopping floors at the Home Depot.

The Atlanta Braves have announced that cash will not be accepted in the Turner Field parking lots during the upcoming series with the New York Yankees — which is expected to draw huge crowds. Instead, attendees must purchase a "discounted" parking permit online.

The cost of stadium parking is $12. At the Braves website, I was given the wonderful opportunity to purchase the parking pass at the "discount" price of $10.

However, the Braves hold the slimy online hands of Ticketmaster — who tacked on three, yes, THREE different fees. There was a "service" fee, a "convenience" fee and then one for the privilege of printing out my own pass using my own paper and my own expensive color copier ink.

The "discount" price resulted in my cost for parking for the upcoming Braves-Yankees game to change from the usual $12 to $16.55. Thanks a ton!

With deals like those at Lowe's and the Braves, who can resist putting money back into the economy?

The intentional misuse of words for financial gain is offensive. But the business world is not the only offender.

While usually less intentional, we routinely misrepresent even more important words that we claim — like love, commitment, justice, understanding, caring and patience.

For me, especially patience.

What's left in the SBC pond?

Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) leadership is as confusing to me as a sleeveless turtleneck. The contradictions are staggering.

Stan Hastey just retired after 20 years with the admittedly small, left-leaning Alliance of Baptists. He explained that the Alliance's openness to women in ministry and (more so) to gays and lesbians ensured a niche market at best.

In a Religion News Service article on Hastey's retirement, SBC Ethics leader Richard Land said the Alliance — the first to come out of the SBC after the fundamentalist takeover began in 1979 — had no potential for growth.

Why? Drumbeat please.

“The reason they stayed small is they got very few fish to fish for,” said Land. “In the very large Southern Baptist pond, there weren't very many liberal fish.”

Really? That's not what we were told during the takeover years. "Liberals" were everywhere. In the seminaries, on the mission field, infiltrating every agency and institution.

Just question the hard-nose tactics of fundamentalists and you could be tagged a "liberal" before you finished your sentence.

Interesting, one of the excuses SBC leaders used for pulling out of the Baptist World Alliance (BWA)a few years ago was that they couldn't partner with "liberal" Baptist groups like the American Baptist Churches, USA, who they called "pro-homosexual."

Yet a recent poll by Public Religion Research showed that 80 percent of American Baptist ministers oppose gay marriage and only 28 percent would approve of civil unions for gay couples. But, of course, in the SBC mindset, even associating with someone who holds a different opinion means you embrace that opinion as well.

With the handful of liberals, many moderates and many conservatives (tagged as "liberals") gone from the SBC, what is swimming around in that pond now?

Well the upcoming gathering in Louisville might reveal what's left — as the ever decreasing group divides into two new schools.

One group supports SBC Executive Committee leader Morris Chapman's call to keep things as they are. The other is represented by Georgia pastor and SBC President Johnny Hunt who wants the denominational group to reconsider its organizational efficiency in hopes of directing more church funds to mission and ministries.

Let's see, MoChap wants to "conserve" the current SBC system. So I guess that makes Hunt and his supporters, oh, yeah, the "liberals."

Like algae, you just can't keep the pond clear of them.

Life is like a piano recital

Three o'clock. Saturday afternoon. Piano recital. On my calendar. In ink.

After days and hours of writing, copy-editing and proofreading, the couch felt good. But the piano recital called me from my comfort.

A trumpet player opened the show with "Holy, Holy, Holy." The teacher told the audience: "Piano is a stepping stone to other instruments."

Mercifully, the list of performers was short — just 15 — compared to past recital experiences.My interest was in number 12.

The countdown began. Performers varied widely in age and skill. Selections ranged from "Old MacDonald" and "Hot Dog Stand" to "Midnight Rhapsody" and "Waltz in A Flat Major."

We smiled and applauded each effort — and concealed most yawns. Finally, the 12th performer gave her excellent rendering of Elaine Lebar's "Slavic Dance" The end was near.

Life is like a piano recital: part endurance, part joy.

But both are worth attending.

Now back to couch before the next proof arrives.

Chill out

With more deadline than time today, this 2005 photo from William Shakespeare's hometown of Stratford-upon- Avon prompts me to believe that contemplation and a more deliberate pace will be found on the other side of my busyness.

Rest and restoration are a part of God's design. Occasionally, our most challenging choices should have to do with ice cream flavors.

In fact, such times should be placed on our schedules just like appointments. Now let me flip over in my calendar and find a place to practice what I preach — after the deadline.

'Gotta have a friend in Jesus'

It only took two or three notes of Norman Greenbaum’s 1969 hit “Spirit in the Sky” to appear on the car radio before my teenage daughter had reached the volume dial and turned it up high.

A special satisfaction comes when she enjoys the same music that I embraced when it originally hit the charts. My "current" music is her golden oldies.

“Spirit in the Sky” has such a great sound that Rolling Stone magazine named it one of the 500 greatest songs of all time. It is one of those tunes that keeps showing up everywhere from baseball games to the movie screen.

For example, in Anaheim, California, the Angels’ play it while introducing their lineup. And my daughters associate the song with the wonderful Denzel Washington movie, “Remember the Titans” — filmed on the beautiful Berry College campus I might add.

As a young teen when the song first hit the radio, I was pleased that the popular rock song affirmed my faith: “Gotta Have a Friend in Jesus.” (We ignored the doctrinal weakness of another line claiming: “Never been a sinner; I never sinned.”)

A Wikipedia article says that Greenbaum, a Jew, wrote the hit song in about 15 minutes after hearing country crooner Porter Wagoner do a gospel number on TV — and wondering if he could come up with one. So it’s not like he read a few volumes of Barth, Tillich or Bultmann first.

However, I have learned not to expect every aspect of the culture to affirm my narrow perspectives on life and God.

There are times for theological debate. And there are times to just rock out a little while driving down the road — especially if the joy of a 40-year-old song is being shared with someone you love.