As commonly used, the term “Southern pride” is shorthand for a stubborn refusal to admit that the South, as a concept, is hopelessly enmeshed in the canons of white supremacy.
Both the Republican Party and the white evangelical megachurches of America may be back to normal by mid-summer. But if the rush to re-open sends the death rate spiraling upward, the white megachurch model may never recover.
The revolt against racial reconciliation efforts in the Southern Baptist Convention is rapidly metastasizing. The SBC is at war with itself, and the best way to know who is winning is to observe recent public statements by Albert Mohler.
We can hang onto Jesus with the right hand, grasp our brothers and sisters with the left, and take one bold step into the gathering gloom of Holy Week. That’s what Lent has always been about. That’s what it’s about now, amid a global pestilence that stalks in the darkness.
Most of our churches have left heaven-or-hell theology far behind, but we’re afraid to offer a viable alternative. It’s time for moderate and progressive mainline preachers to talk about the biblical vision of universal redemption.
By hitching his wagon to Trump’s neon star, Starr is making the same old mistake for the same old reason.
Some species of evangelical religion will ultimately rise from the rubble of American conservatism, but it will be greatly curtailed, politically irrelevant and, I pray, more recognizably Christian.
Forty years ago, Hinson’s open letter challenged Southern Baptist Convention President Bailey Smith’s pronouncement that “God Almighty does not hear the prayer of a Jew.” Today, moderate Baptists know they don’t want to follow Smith and his tribe, but have we embraced a clear alternative?
Frank Tupper’s view of providence is unflinchingly honest. We survive our personal Gethsemanes, not because we experience miraculous rescue, but because we are not alone: “Jesus has already gone through Gethsemane, a Gethsemane that we will never comprehend, and he stands with us in ours.”