Day 72- Christian First, Baptist Second

Total Mileage: 8,990

Song of the Day: “Mission” (Dispatch)

Book of the Day:
The Baptist Identity: Four Fragile Freedoms (Walter Shurden)

Here’s one from the vault that I’ve been editing for a while.  Started on Day 68 . . .

I’m still in Flagstaff and waiting around while my car is being serviced.  I’m trying to do a little musing, but I’m having a hard time tuning out the TV in this waiting room-- it’s a Jerry Springer-esque talk show hosted by a priest.  I’m sure he has good intentions, and a quick Wikipedia search shows that he actually has a fairly fascinating story, but my brain is still made sad by the knowledge that this show exists.  I’m trying to piggyback off of a nearby wireless signal without much luck, and since the friendly attendant is a little too busy this afternoon for conversation, it looks like my only option is to try and ignore the TV and be alone with my thoughts for a bit.

You know, I’m continually blown away by the complexities of American denominational politics, and since it’s important for me to examine my own denominational leanings as I prepare to enter into the ministry, this seems like as good a time as any to delve into that sticky question of why I’m a Baptist and why I have remained a Baptist even though I attend a United Methodist institution.  I value the contributions of other denominations and hope for increased cooperation, but I still feel most at home in the Baptist tradition, and here are some of the reasons why . . .

Why I Am a Baptist

Okay, I guess there’s the obvious answer that I grew up Baptist and have a little built-in loyalty from my upbringing in the church, but keep in mind that I actually grew up Southern Baptist, and I’m no longer that, so clearly, I’ve had to give this a little thought.  To understand why I’m a Baptist, I need to discuss a bit more about the denomination’s core principles, but in particular (due to space limitations), I’m going to be addressing the values that have kept me anchored to this denomination and will continue to do so.  This is by no means an exhaustive explanation, but I think it's a decent primer:

Two Ordinances: Baptism and Lord’s Supper

So, Baptists use the word “ordinance” for a number of reasons.  First of all, it doesn’t carry with it the same notion of an imparting of grace that the term “sacrament” does, and since Baptists are very much against the idea of a church or clergy member controlling the means of grace, sacrament is a dirty word for many Baptists.  (Frankly, I still use the word sacrament periodically, but I also have an unusually high view of Lord’s Supper/Communion for a Baptist, but that could be a post all its own since there’s a lot of the Duke Methodist influence that’s brought me to that understanding of the practice.)  Baptists have a long history of making sure God’s grace doesn’t fall under the jurisdiction of mortal authorities.  Though our history can be traced back even farther to pre-Reformation thinkers, most Baptists identify our roots with a group of 17th Century separatists from the Church of England, and much of our foundational literature was penned in exile or in prison cells.  I love pointing to the example of Thomas Helwys (a layman and theologian who, along with John Smyth, led the original group of General Baptists in Amsterdam).  Helwys actually had the guts to send a copy of his book (A Short Declaration of the Mystery of Iniquity) to King James I with a note in the front reminding the king that he was a mortal man and lacked the authority to legislate the human soul.  He even autographed it, “God save the king, Thomas Helwys.”  Helwys lived out the remainder of his days in Newgate Prison for this offense.  Worth it?  I think so.  Wow, that was a bit of a tangent.  Where was I?  Oh, right, why we call them “ordinances.”  The term ordinance is also a reminder that Christ personally ordained and practiced these rituals, and as He lived them out, we too must live them out in remembrance of Him.  Ideally, Baptists try to practice adult baptism by full immersion and use individual servings of Lord’s Supper elements so that all may partake at the same time (as all people are of equal value to God regardless of race, gender, or finances).  Of course, there are exceptions to both of these systems when extenuating circumstances arise, but again, those are the ideal scenarios.

Sola Scriptura (not to be confused with inerrancy)

This has been a sticky point over the years, but Baptists believe in the authority of Scripture over church tradition and other influences.  A lot of this again stems from that desire to ensure that human institutions are not exerting undue authority over God and God’s grace (which is made available to all, not just some).  We believe that all creeds and opinions and church practices ought to be checked against the words of the Bible and that, when read with the love of Christ in one’s heart, the Bible has amazing potential for life-altering revelation.  These are the words of God as filtered through the pens of the prophets and apostles, and I’m in full agreement that, along with the loving guidance of the Holy Spirit, this book must be the principle source of all doctrine.  The stickiness of this point has to do with (in my opinion) one of the most loosely-defined doctrines ever conceived by human minds, a doctrine which tragically became the reed with which many were harshly judged in the Southern Baptist Church in the latter half of the 20th Century: the inerrancy of Scripture.  I’m about to step on some toes very unapologetically here, and I’m going to try to steer clear of a Driscoll-esque rant, but I make no promises . . .

The doctrine of inerrancy has come into existence within the last 200 years or so, largely in reaction to the perceived threats of historical-critical biblical scholarship and the theory of evolution.  Though based very much in reverence for God and God’s Word, this doctrine is an absolute house of cards because it seems like anyone can believe anything about the Bible and still call themselves an inerrantist.  I’ve encountered inerrantist writings that said that the whole Bible came word-for-word from God in its present-day form.  I’ve encountered other inerrantist writings that said that God delivered a set of original “autographa” which have been lost to history, and what we have now are the lingering mistranslations of those first perfect texts.  I’ve encountered still other inerrantist writings that say God guided the mistranslations, except for some of the mistranslations which we get to ignore.  (“Oh, the stuff about women keeping silent in church is directly from God, but that thing about slavery has to be viewed in its original context.”)  Basically, you can believe whatever you want about the Bible and still call yourself an inerrantist.  It is a word with no substance, and people have been fired over it, and churches have split over it, and I think it’s a load of reactionary tripe that needs to be left by the roadside for the vultures to fight over.  It is a highly selective reading of Christianity that has the nerve to accuse others of picking and choosing.

Of course, I’m not saying that it’s not Christianity, just that I find it to be an unfortunately condemnatory version that vastly misconstrues the importance of the Bible.  The Bible is a divine treasure, and it is nothing short of a miracle that its words have been so accurately preserved through the ages, but inerrancy undercuts the many beautiful nuances behind the recording of this collection of documents, nuances that God intended for us to study and appreciate and use in order to grow.  By attempting to oversimplify it and boil the whole book down to a set of “non-negotiables” (usually revolving around abortion, homosexuality, Heaven/Hell, and six-day creationism), inerrancy actually disrespects the very Bible it intends to defend, and that is a tragic irony.  It is an absolute travesty that we have fought so much over this doctrine when the distinctives of the faith that we ought to be focusing on are far more simple: God is love.  God’s Son came to earth to embody that love, living and dying to reconcile us to God in spite of our sinfulness.  God loves all of us and continues to use the Church to show that love to the world.  Bam.  You want a simple gospel?  There it is.  The Bible doesn’t have to be “inerrant” to tell you that basic earthshattering truth.  Frankly, I take the Bible and its message far too seriously to label myself an inerrantist, but I’ve done the research and discovered that I totally could if I wanted to (since I believe that the inspiration that drove the biblical authors, editors, and compilers really was perfect).  I just think it’s an unnecessary and divisive label, so I choose not to use it, and I don’t think anyone else should either.

Ah, I feel cleansed.  Look, I realize that I’m giving a very cliffnotes version of inerrancy and that there’s a lot more to it, but it doesn’t change the fact that inerrancy is a skewed exaggeration of the Baptist reverence for Scripture.  Many inerrantists have worked to make the Bible rigid and crystalized in a way that I don’t think it was ever really intended to be.  Sure, we need to be wary of overly-liberal readings as well, because there really is a slippery slope to denying the Resurrection or the divinity of Jesus or any of the other biblically-based beliefs that distinguish us as Christians.  Hiding behind a selectively literalistic reading of the Bible isn’t the answer though.  If anything, that just exacerbates the problem and draws a false battle line.  No, we need to keep the true nature of biblical inspiration in mind:

The Bible is the word of God penned by human hands, and I believe it to be perfect even in its imperfections (mistranslation, decontextualization, etc.).  It is the foundation on which all of our doctrine must be constructed, and it is the standard by which we must judge our beliefs and opinions.  It is also the most beautiful anthology of stories about God ever assembled, and it is meant to be appreciated and enjoyed and studied and honored and loved but never worshiped, and that is the heresy into which inerrancy sometimes slides.  In fact, I believe the technical term for this is “bibliolatry,” and it’s far too common in our churches.  Growing up, I remember being chastised at one point for setting another book down on top of my Bible.  I used to have to pledge allegiance to the Bible growing up, and Erin said that she's had to do the same in VBS; neither of us really feels right about it.  Worst of all, as a teenager, I remember being told I was going to Hell just for pointing out places where the Bible contradicted itself-- as if I were somehow undercutting God’s authority by looking at the book with a critical eye.  That’s just not right.  In fact, it’s idolatrous.  As Christians, we have to remember:

The Bible exists as a revelation from God,

a reaction to God,

a record of God,

and a reconciler with God.

It is not a replacement for God.

Of course, I’m particularly sensitive on this topic since the conservatives of the Southern Baptist Convention used inerrancy as their rallying banner for much of the latter half of the 20th Century, and look at the mess it caused.  On paper, the numbers went up, but the political state of the denomination became akin to a den of vipers.  Of course, though I might criticize inerrantists and call their doctrine flimsy at best and heresy at worst, my Baptist beliefs also mean that I will fight to the death to defend their rights to believe as they sense God leading them.  You see, as a Baptist, I believe in . . .

Autonomy

Wow, I’m really just focusing on the controversial stuff today-- guess that probably says something about me and my reasons for being Baptist, but oh well.  Autonomy is actually a concept that has come under some scrutiny lately and rightfully so.  This concept might be the Baptist belief that keeps me most strongly connected to the denomination, but it must be observed with a few caveats in mind.  The term implies self-governance, and like the other points I’ve outlined so far, it too can be traced back to the Baptist desire to limit human dominion over God’s Church and God’s People.  In an ideal Baptist scenario, the believer, the church, and the denomination and its agencies are all interdependent but self-governing with Christ at the head of the body.  While these groups all hold one another accountable and support one another, no individual or body can legislate the beliefs of any other.  We are all endowed with the Image of God.  The tearing of the temple curtain and the delivering of the ordinances signified that we are all priests in God’s Kingdom with full entitlement to the presence of God without any sort of mediator.  Any believer who reads the Bible with the love of God in his/her heart has just as valid an interpretation as any other.  All are able to hear the voice of God.  All are equally able to serve and to minister.  Again, if I had to pick one distinctive Baptist belief that keeps me in the denomination, this would be it.  There are some concerns though.

Even though our style of church governance is supposed to be absolutely democratic, with the congregation voting on issues and deciding its own course (trumping even the authority of the pastor), I think my friend and teacher Dr. Curtis Freeman put it best when he said in class one day, “When we take a vote as Baptists, we have to be careful that we are expressing what we think God wants for the church, not just what we want for the church.”  That is the main dilemma of autonomy, and that is the reason I think the word might fall into disrepute in the near future.  When abused or misinterpreted, the principle usurps the power from God’s hands and places it in our far less capable ones.  If we become too caught up in self-governance, we forget that it is actually God who governs us, and we forget that our calling is to serve as stewards of God’s Kingdom, not our kingdom-- God’s Church, not our church.  While all of the individuals and organizations within the larger umbrella of the Baptist Church are self-governing, it is Christ who must preside over the whole affair, and if we forget to pray and seek the will of God, then we have become more of a political movement than a church.  Baptists are autonomous, but we are also still subjects under God’s sovereignty.

Separation of Church and State/Religious Liberty

Of course, this belief in autonomy extends even farther into the world outside the Church.  As the products of an age of persecution, Baptists also believe in absolute religious liberty and an unflinchingly strict separation of church and state.  People should be free to worship whomever they want in whatever fashion they want without fear of interference from the state.  The first Baptist church in America was actually started by Roger Williams in Providence, RI, and though Williams himself only claimed the Baptist identity for a brief time, the Baptistness of his beliefs is apparent through that colony’s founding principles.  Establishing Rhode Island as a haven for religious dissidents, Williams encouraged the free worship of all religions there (even the Quakers, whose beliefs he very much opposed and wrote pamphlets against).

Jumping forward in history to the era of the American Revolution, let’s look at the contributions of Rev. John Leland, a staunch advocate for religious liberty, the disestablishment of the Church of England, and even the abolition of slavery-- he was years ahead of his time.  Leland once wrote of the separation of church and state, “The fondness of magistrates to foster Christianity has done it more harm than all the persecutions ever did.  Persecution, like a lion, tears the saints to death, but leaves Christianity pure; state establishment of religion, like a bear, hugs the saints, but corrupts Christianity.”  Of course, perhaps Leland’s most famous contribution to American history came from his friendship with James Madison.  As Madison was penning our Constitution, Leland was one of the chief voices in his ear campaigning for the inclusion of the First Amendment, which features clauses advocating the free exercise of religion and banning the establishment of any one faith by the state.

Yes, Baptists have a long history of protecting the spiritual autonomy of others, even people of other faiths.  Our position has always been that the Church exists as a separate institution from the state, and while the two are free to critique each other, one cannot serve the other.  Perhaps Martin Luther King put it best when he said, “The Church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state.  It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool.  If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become an irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority.”  Look, the Church can be politically active, but it needs to make sure that its position involves defending those without a voice (those whose rights are being violated by the negligence of the state), not advocating for specific politicians in the hopes of creating an unhealthy church-state reciprocity.  The Church can never tell people for whom they should vote or which party is right or wrong (as many pastors tragically tried to in the 2004 and 2008 elections, resulting in the totally justified loss of their 501c3 statuses).  Still, Jesus isn’t just going to wait patiently for us outside the voting booth like a toddler’s parent outside of a bathroom stall-- He's speaking to us even there.  We must always consider what God wants for our churches, for our country, and for our individual lives.  Sometimes, that will lead us into political activity or into conflict with our brothers and sisters.  Still, we cannot impose on the beliefs of others, but must defend their free observance and exercise of those beliefs.  That’s the traditional Baptist way of doing things, and I stand by it.

These are just a few of the beliefs that have been crucial to my Baptist identity over the years, but I will admit that I’ve strayed from the fold once or twice in the past.  After those couple of years spent as an Agnostichristian, I may have had a brief flirtation with another denomination . . .

Why I Stayed a Baptist

At one time, I thought that Baptists were unique in our internal discord.  I wondered if our particular brand of political hijinks would be defused in other denominations with more rigid hierarchical structures and less congregational control.  The tools for another controversy like the Southern Baptists’ just don’t really exist in many other denominations, so might these provide more hope for Christian unity?  For that reason, the United Methodist Church was looking pretty good for a month or two there.  I know other Baptists who have gone UMC, so when I went into my very first field ed placement at Fremont UMC in the North Carolina town of the same name, jumping ship and going Methodist really was an option lurking on the periphery of my mind, and my supervisor (Rev. Judy Drye) was happy to talk with me about the Methodist tradition and theology.  I have the utmost respect for Judy for many reasons, but one of the chief among these is her candor and transparency: while she openly admitted that she hoped Methodism would appeal to me, she never once attempted to sugarcoat things or portray the denomination through rose-tinted glasses.  She may have pointed out the cheese, but she was also very upfront about the spring-loaded trap on which it rested.  During the latter half of that first summer at Fremont, Judy invited me to attend some of the meetings at the Eastern Carolina Annual Conference.  I bumped into a few people I knew.  I got to hear Adam Hamilton speak.  I had a great lunch with a group of pastors seeking to make the conference more inclusive.  I was feeling pretty good about this group of Christians, but then it happened: the moment in which I knew that I would be forever Baptist.

There was a motion of some kind being discussed, and it was over something highly mundane and pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things-- something about adding an extra level of bureaucracy to the voting process for licensed local pastors or something along those lines.  Discussion was moving along fairly quickly, and the bishop seemed optimistic that this simple bit of business would be laid to rest with little debate, but then a young man with curly hair stepped up to the microphone.  He couldn’t have been older than twenty, but his tenor voice carried with it a certain eloquence and enthusiasm.  Since this was two years ago, his exact words escape me, but it was something along the lines of, “You know, all you people aren’t going to be around forever, and we have to think about the state of the church that you’re handing off to my generation!  We have to think about the message that this legislation is sending to people my age!  My generation is the future of the Methodist Church, and we have to be shown more consideration!”  The room was abuzz, and within seconds, a cynical-sounding older man who exuded experience had hobbled to the microphone.  He had thick glasses and a gravelly voice that sounded more angry than compassionate.  In fact, his words almost sounded like a threat to the young man: “Yes, that’s all well and good, but this church has a duty to the people who have sat in its pews their whole lives!  We are servants of the church members who have been faithful to us, and now we must be faithful to them!  We can’t kick older church members to the curb!”  All he was missing was the phrase “young whippersnapper” to complete the stereotype.  After he finished, someone from the whippersnapper’s camp fired back, and before I knew what was happening, there were lines a dozen deep at every microphone in the room, and the bishop was looking aggravated.  What was going on?  This piece of legislation had nothing to do with future generations or staying true to the lifelong members or any of those tired soapboxes.  Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the whippersnapper was wearing a rainbow stole, and perhaps this debate over a random motion was secretly a debate over something else entirely, and I --being the outsider-- just didn’t understand the code words that the two rival camps were using.  That’s when the veil was lifted and I had an epiphany: “Y’all are just as messed up as we are.”

In that moment, I faced a decision: I could either learn how to navigate this whole new treacherous stream of political maneuvering and euphemistic jargon, or I could stick to the one with which I’m already familiar.  I chose the devil I know, and I’ll choose it every time.  I agree with the principles of the Baptist denomination, I know it's politics, and identifying as Baptist isn't going to prohibit me from ecumenical/interdenominational work.  I am Baptist.  I am a Christian first and foremost, but I am a Christian shaped by the Baptist worldview, and I've chosen to stick by that.

Of course, this pattern of internal conflict isn’t just limited to the Methodists and Baptists.  Look at the struggles that the Episcopal Church has faced over homosexuality and liberal biblical interpretation, or look at all the woes that have befallen the Catholic Church in trying to maintain the traditional celibacy of priests.  Every denomination faces tremendous internal struggles.  It doesn’t make them wrong or bad.  It just makes them human.  Back when I visited the LDS Temple in Utah, these were the sorts of arguments that the evangelists in the visitors’ center would have used to try and call our modern denominations “false churches.”  These are the sorts of arguments that Westboro Baptist would use to label the denominations as tools of the Antichrist.  On the other hand, I look at the state of the Church and remember that Jesus chose to incarnate Himself in a human body.  The Church is flawed.  Very flawed.  Again, I refer you to that classic Augustine quote: "The Church may be a whore, but she is also my mother."  As Christians working within denominational structures, we need to acknowledge these flaws, accept them, and learn to work through them.  We have to be able to share the pew with people with whom we deeply disagree, and I know that’s not easy.  The Baptists have a great old motto that I want to see resurrected for all of Christendom:

Unity amid diversity

Every denomination should strive for this.  We need to work to make our discords sound more like harmonies, but if we all have the same opinion, we’ll wind up with monotony, and that’s not how the Body of Christ is supposed to look (see Ephesians 4-- my go-to model of how the Church must look).  Of course, there are certain principles on which we all agree, but before I get there, I need to take a quick detour . . .

Why Non-Denoms Aren’t the Answer

I have to be honest: I think that the whole “nondenominational” philosophy is a little tragic in its irony-- especially the multisite megachurches.  I understand that this started out as a way to bypass all the nasty denominational politics that dominated the latter half of the 20th Century, but I can’t help but snicker a bit that these churches have fallen into the same traps themselves and often seem hesitant to acknowledge it.  I witnessed this the most at Willow Creek and at Mark Driscoll’s Mars Hill.  In both locations, there was a lot of talk about the campuses’ interplay with each other and the common efforts of the campuses and all those fun things, and I couldn’t help but think, “Hmm, sounds like a denomination-- admittedly, a very small and strictly hierarchical denomination, but a denomination nonetheless.”

Every time I hear a non-denom pastor lamenting/lambasting the shortcomings of organized religion, I have to sigh and fight the urge to stand up and inform him, “Whether you like it or not, you’re a part of it, dude.  You are religion.  You are a denomination.  To call yourself a ‘Christ-follower’ --or whatever other seeker-sensitive term is popular right now-- is to identify yourself with the Church.  Sorry, bro, but you’re stuck with us.”  (Please note that I’m using masculine pronouns because, so far, these pastors are almost all hims.  I really had to hunt on the Hartford database to find any female megachurch pastors, and the majority of those were in denominationally-affiliated megas, but I'm getting really off topic.)  As many flaws as denominations have, non-denoms often paint a caricature of those issues and then fall into the very same traps themselves.  They all face the same issues of governance that have splintered so many denominations, and not to play fortune teller, but I’m going to make a Grandmamma Chappell-esque prediction: I can almost guarantee that these churches will all face their own disputes and splits sometime in the next few decades.  Every single one of them.  That’s the unfortunate nature of church, and non-denoms aren’t exempt.  We’re all still people, and even the most loving people inevitably fight from time to time.  As long as people are handling the day-to-day maintenance of God’s church, splits and fights and “religion” are going to happen.  Sorry, megachurch pastors.  We’re all in this together, so we have to be willing to roll with it.  Denominations may be passé and losing influence, but some form of denominational/associational politics will always exist in American churches.  As much as Christ is supposed to be the head of the Church, the church is still run by people, and people are flawed.

What then Unites Us?

When it comes down to it, I believe that there are certain beliefs that do unite all Christians, even though I acknowledge that I put my own spin on them in certain ways.  As a final exam in my Free Church Theology course, Dr. Freeman asked us to prepare our own statement of belief, so here’s mine.  Please note that I do not see this as a binding creed.  I do not see this is a measuring stick to tell us who the “real” Christians are.  I see it as a statement of beliefs on which Christians tend to agree (even though I’m certainly open to being corrected if this statement contains any lurking heresies that have slipped in under my radar).  These are the things that I believe as a Christian, as a Baptist, and as myself, and I hope this statement promotes Christian unity and peaceful conversation and a worshipful spirit, not the discord to which we have all become tragically accustomed.