Of the Baptist faith.

Pierce, John D.

My Aunt Edith was a delightful woman who--much to our delight--doted on her nephews. Even as a teenager, I enjoyed seeing her arrive at our house in her fire-engine red 1971 Ford Torino.

She enjoyed socializing with friends and was a lifelong member of Ridgedale Baptist Church, when the church was located in downtown Chattanooga, Tennessee. She was also a leader in the Tennessee chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. (1)

Aunt Edith never married and, after retirement and the death of my grandmother, she lived alone. To fill time between church and other activities, she was known to attend a lot of funerals or make visits to the funeral home. It became something of a joke in my home that the morning newspaper did not touch the ground before Aunt Edith retrieved it and opened it to the obituaries so that she could look for even the most remote connection to those who had recently died and therefore justified her dressing up and heading to the funeral home.

With some embarrassment, I find myself reading obituaries more regularly and closely these days. Were Aunt Edith still around, I would apologize for kidding her so much. I now occasionally scan the electronic death notices from my region to see if an old teacher or Sunday school teacher or parent of a childhood friend has died so that ! can send a note or make a call. I also breathe a prayer of thanks for some of the simple, yet saintly, folks who guided me in life and nurtured my faith.

In my increased readership of obituaries, I have noticed a common phrase--usually concerning someone I did not know--that I have seen before, but never really reflected on. In a Southern newspaper particularly, after giving great detail about the deceased's vocation, hobbies, and interests, many death announcements contain this simple phrase: "was of the Baptist faith."

Have you noticed that phrase? Well, after pondering over this for a while, I believe I have figured it out. "Of the Baptist faith" means that his mother went to church, but he did not. So perhaps the phrase is an attempt to boost one's eternity credentials, hoping to get that person into heaven on a technicality. I do not know this for sure, but I do know that "of the Baptist faith" is an interesting phrase.

My question now is what should it mean to say that a person--living or dead--is or was "of the Baptist faith"? To my knowledge, there are three books with the exact same title, Why I Am a Baptist. Two were published in recent years and reflect the contrasting perspectives within the denominational divide experienced over the last twenty-five-plus years. (2) But the Why I Am a Baptist volume that interests me the most is the one published in 1957 by Thomas Nelson Publishers. This book was part of a series--why I Am a Lutheran, Why I Am a Methodist, etc.

The Baptist volume was edited by Louie D. Newton, former Baptist newspaper editor and pastor of Atlanta's Druid Hills Baptist Church. Newton served as president of the Southern Baptist Convention (1947-1948) and as vice president of the Baptist World Alliance. To gain a broader perspective while writing the book, Newton asked his Baptist contemporaries to answer the question: Why are you a Baptist? Their responses form the latter part of the book.

Overwhelmingly, and almost exclusively, the responses from these Baptist leaders of the mid-twentieth century dealt with two issues: individual freedom and personal responsibility. Foreign mission leader Baker James Cauthen replied: "Any trend that places minister, ceremony, or organization between a believer and his Lord is from a Baptist point of view an encumbrance that ought to be removed." (3) Seminary president and denominational executive Duke McCall (who is still among us) wrote: "I am proud to be a Baptist who not only demands for himself but also recognizes for others the right of a free conscience and the responsibility for personal decision to trust Jesus Christ as savior." (4)

Roland Q. Leavell, then president of New Orleans Seminary, said he could count on one hand why he is a Baptist:

1. Belief in the Bible as the only Baptist creed, and the inalienable right of the individual to read and interpret it as the Holy Spirit of God leads his conscience.

2. Individual responsibility in religious liberty (that) ... demands separation of church and state.

3. The competency of the individual soul to approach God without human or ecclesiastical mediation.

4. The equality of all believers.

5. The democracy, autonomy and independence of a local Baptist church--free in doctrine, polity, worship and practice, free from outside over-lordship from a pope, bishop, synod council or convention. (5) (emphasis added)

But it was an editor, of course, whose response I found most intriguing. The legendary John Jeter Hurt, who was editor of Baptist newspapers in both Georgia and Texas, responded: "I love the responsibility that Baptists give to the individual.... Baptists know they have the Truth. Yet any thought of forcing it on another is repugnant to their love of freedom." (6) While I am not as sure of our complete truth-grasping as Editor Hurt was, I like the way he gives freedom to even those he considers most certainly to be in error.

Recently, Bill Hull did us all a favor with his booklet, The Meaning of the Baptist Experience, released in 2007 by the Baptist History and Heritage Society. Hull concluded his excellent treatment with equal commitment but less idealism than Hurt by stating: "Having belonged to the Baptist family for more than seventy-five years, I have known it at its best and at its worst. I shall doubtless remain a Baptist for the rest of my days, not because I have found it superior to all others but because, by providence and persuasion, these are my people whose experiences have shaped many of my experiences." (7)

When thinking about our shared experiences as Baptists, there are unique challenges we face today in our efforts to be faithful in our Christian commitments. I want to mention four of them.

First, we are constantly challenged by the need to keep up. Churches are not known to be the most flexible institutions, yet we live in a time of rapid change that requires adaptation. A few years ago, my work called for me to be at Wake Forest University one afternoon and then in Washington, D.C., that night. The airlines do not understand that it should not be all that hard to schedule flights from Atlanta to the North Carolina Triad and then on to Washington. To save a few hundred dollars, I did the inconvenient but less expensive thing of flying from Atlanta to Greensboro and then flying all the way back to Atlanta in order to catch a separate flight on to D.C. During the latter flight, the pilot came on the intercom and announced that we were now flying over Greensboro, North Carolina. I thought: "Great. I am back to where I was a few hours ago." But then the pilot asked for a moment of personal privilege, and noting that the date was December 17, 2003, he said: "One hundred years ago today, just to the east of here, Orville and Wilbur Wright made their flight." Then he added: "Right now, we are traveling seven times the distant of their entire flight--every second."

Changes in technology, communications, and sociology are constantly influencing the church as well. The question of relevancy is always being asked in new ways. The challenge, of course, is to discern between that which is a fad (to be ignored) and that which is a trend (to be considered). Reacting to every fad keeps the church bouncing from one emphasis to the next without any stability or purpose. Our concern should be with those trends that justify new approaches to connecting with people and fulfilling our Christian mission. However, even when a trend is acknowledged, churches generally respond in one of three ways:

1. The church can ignore it. We can live in the dark for a long time.

2. The church can fight it. We can just call it sin and glorify the good old days. We can become a "cultural warrior" determined to keep things the way they have always been--just like God intended.

3. The church can adjust to it. I know, adjusting to a trend--something with lasting power--is risky, but necessary. (Of course, the great thing about being an editor is I get to talk about the need for flexibility in churches without having to try to bring it about in an inflexible congregation.)

The second challenge we face--in our unique time and place as Baptists--is getting comfortable with looser denominational connections and identity. There is a need to embrace that healthy, yet unfamiliar place between blind allegiance to a larger Baptist body and congregational isolation that shuts us off from others and reduces our effectiveness.

Cooperation is still a good word and concept. But we are learning that the responsibility for our cooperation lies with individual congregations as they intentionally partner with other churches and organizations for wider fellowship and to fulfill their mission callings. I enjoy asking church leaders--clergy and laity: "Who are your mission and ministry partners?" I enjoy hearing a broad listing and sensing that these intentional partnerships are valued.

A third challenge is to realize that our experiences with God and each other are greater than the debate over whether we have the correct version of the Baptist vision. Preserving our cherished Baptist principles of freedom is very important to us but should not replace our greater need of spiritual development.

Last year I did an interview with Gardner Taylor, considered the dean of black Baptist preachers. The published interview elicited much positive response. Fellow editor Charlie Warren of the Arkansas Baptist shared the following experience that he had as a missionary journeyman to Zambia back in 1969-1971. Career missionary Tom Small had invited Dr. Taylor to lead a revival for the Zambian people. The night the services were to begin, Tom and of Charlie arrived an hour early to discover that the lights were not working. After testing several electrical connections, they walked around to the back of the building and came upon Dr. Taylor kneeling in prayer. Startled, the missionary said: "Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Taylor. We were just looking to see where the power comes from."

As an editor, I help foster a lot of our debates and discussions about being "good" Baptists--and don't apologize for that, but our goal in being good Baptists must ultimately be a growing effort to be more faithful Christians.

A fourth and final challenge is our need to be family to one another. We have known so much distrust and division in our larger Baptist family that we tend to be cautious about all of our relationships of faith. Sadly, our Baptist family history does not always make us proud. I am reminded of the socialite who traced her family's aristocratic history. All was well until she uncovered the fact that she was the direct descendant of a man hanged for cattle rustling. Torn between her commitment as a faithful historian and her emotional need to come from only the finest stock, the entry in that part of the family history finally read: "My great-great grandfather died during a public ceremony--when a platform gave way."

Despite a history of squabble and division and embarrassment, we must work at building trusting, mutually beneficial relationships wherever possible. Let me add that the partnership model is my preference over the convention model, but it has a least one downside. It creates competition among those of us seeking support from many of the same sources. We Baptists tend to be a fickle, highly analytic bunch. Too often we are hypercritical of one another. I hope that, as we mature, we will get better at seeing the larger need for our relationships to one another.

In the fall of 1999, restoration of the historic and stunning Rylander Theatre in Americus, Georgia, was completed. Its grand opening coincided with the seventy-fifth birthday of Sumter County, Georgia's favorite son, former President Jimmy Carter. So the grand opening and a birthday party were all rolled into one big celebration, which was a pretty much a local event even though the Carters invited some of their favorite entertainers: white-shoed, tan-faced Pat Boone; Lynn Anderson to sing Rose Garden; and the more-contemporary Indigo Girls (Mrs. Carter's choice, I believe).

Just before the event started, President Carter met with the small group of reporters that included a couple of much better and better-known journalists than me. In the press conference, Sam Donaldson of ABC-News, who had covered Carter's campaigns and presidency, asked if the former president still jogs around Plains. Carter replied that he no longer jogs, but likes to ride his bike around town and into a community where many African American families live. Then the ever-vocal Helen Thomas, longtime White House correspondent for UPI, followed up: "How do they react to a former president just riding up on a bicycle?" Carter shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Oh, they just come over and say, "Hi, Mr. Jimmy." Then, after a brief pause, that trademark grin came across his face and Carter added: "Unless they are Baptist, then they call me Brother Jimmy."

The "brother" and "sister" words are not used much in my Baptist circles--and that is okay with me. But I do hope we can work harder at building the kind of trusting and supportive relationships with one another that suggest we are family.

Although I mentioned that I read obituaries more often now, I am not preoccupied with death--but I do have a greater awareness of my mortality than before. It surfaced, for me, after the deaths of my parents in recent years. That generational buffer had been removed. Awareness of my mortality also came during a trip I took in 2005. I attended the Baptist World Alliance meeting that year and enjoyed touring some of the historic sites in England from which the Baptist movement came. At one historic church-and-cemetery stop along the way, our group was reading the various headstones and histories of our Baptist forebears. To those within an earshot, I asked: "Have you noticed the one thing all these Baptists have in common?" Then I answered my own question: "They all died." With a smile, Baptist historian Walter Shurden, responded: "Yeah, and we are going to put a stop to that." Of course, we all know that we will not put a stop to death. But thinking of our mortality should remind us that we have been given the gift of this particular slice of history--it is ours to live out as fully and faithfully as possible.

(1.) This address was given at a Tennessee Cooperative Baptist Fellowship meeting at Signal Mountain, Tennessee, April 21, 2007.

(2.) See Cecil P. Staton, Jr., ed., Why I Am a Baptist: Reflections on Being Baptist in the 21st Century (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 1999) and Tom J. Nettles and Russell Moore, eds., Why I Am a Baptist (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 2001).

(3.) Louie D. Newton, Why I am a Baptist (New York: Thomas Nelson, 1957), 226.

(4.) Ibid., 271.

(5.) Ibid., 264-65.

(6.) Ibid., 252.

(7.) William E. Hull, The Meaning of the Baptist Experience, The Baptist Heritage Library (Brentwood, TN: Baptist History and Heritage, 2007), 23.

John D. Pierce is executive editor of Baptists Today, Macon, Georgia.