By David Gushee
In late January 2006 my 18-year-old daughter Holly was in a terrible car accident. The most serious consequence was a traumatic brain injury that left her unconscious for three days and unable to speak for two weeks.
At that time I served at Union University. We had lived in Jackson, Tenn., for a decade.
The outpouring of support for us as a family was overwhelming. It began with the extraordinary kindness of the good folks at Union. The president, David Dockery, reduced my teaching load for the semester, went to bat for me when the insurance company got balky, and offered spiritual and emotional support. The rest of the Union community came through with prayer support, food, and all kinds of expressions of concern.
So did Northbrook Church, our home church at the time. I remember it did not take long for the news of Holly’s accident to spread around within the church, and that several dozen church friends converged on the emergency room that very first night to keep vigil with us. I remember when the pastors of the church came and prayed over Holly in her hospital bed several days later, seeking to follow Scripture’s injunction to pray and anoint the sick. We were also blessed with much concern from school officials and friends at Jackson Christian School.
Four years later, with Holly on the brink of graduating from Union and getting married, again I say a heartfelt thank you to the Union and Jackson communities.
These events came to mind over the last month as illness has struck our family again. First, I got Hepatitis A in early March. Then my wife, Jeanie, had an appendectomy. And now my sister Janette, just 45 years old, has been hit with a brain tumor. She had brain surgery April 6 and is now in a fight for her health and her life. I am wondering if any readers of this column would consider praying earnestly for the return to health of my sister Janette?
These days we live not in Jackson, Tenn., but in Atlanta, Ga. I serve a school and attend a church aligned with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship rather than the Southern Baptist Convention.
But CBF-type Baptists bring food to hurting families too. “Moderate” seminarians at McAfee School of Theology gathered in prayer for my sister on Tuesday night when they learned that she was undergoing brain surgery. The good folks at First Baptist Church of Decatur have showered our family with spiritual and emotional support. My colleagues at McAfee have reached out to me. The president of Mercer University, Bill Underwood, has offered whatever assistance I might need during this crisis. We have been deeply touched by all these expressions of concern and love.
When I left Union and came to Mercer in 2007, I crossed the SBC-CBF, conservative-moderate dividing line in Baptist life. In doing so I encountered a number of people who thought that such a transition was inconceivable. Everyone knew, these folks thought, that the gulf fixed between these two communities is so great that a transition from one to the other is not possible. I encountered this attitude from some on both sides. They couldn’t agree on anything else, but they did agree that you just don’t consort with the Baptist enemy.
I am not suggesting that there are no meaningful differences that caused the fracturing of the former Southern Baptist Convention world. But somehow these estranged sides of the Baptist family both know how to love the sick. Both know how to pray for the afflicted. Both know how to reach out to hurting families.
Within a span of four years both sides have demonstrated to my family the Christian graces that are the best expression of our shared Christian faith.
It’s such a simple, homely point, almost embarrassing to have to make. But having too often experienced the contemptuous dismissal of each side from each side, it just seems right to tell this little story. Maybe it can soften a heart or two.
One last thing. During the time of Holly’s accident, people of many Christian denominations reached out to us. We heard from pretty much every faith community one could find in West Tennessee.
Gathered in my extended family last week, similarly, were Catholics, Baptists, Bible churchers, and non-churchgoers. All were united in love for my sister and one another.
I believe in a kind of Christian faith that brings people together in love, recognizing the sacred worth of every person as demonstrated and commanded by Jesus Christ. Grave injuries and illnesses take us to that place of recognizing each life’s divinely bestowed sacredness and fighting for each life together.
I wish we could stay in that place always, even when we are not in hospitals.