I am excited that my 30-year journey as a Baptist leads me to the New Baptist Covenant meeting in Atlanta Jan. 30 to Feb. 1. I've been thinking about what this upcoming meeting means to me, and how it relates to my long journey in the Baptist family. Perhaps these reflections can be helpful to others.
I became a Southern Baptist by conversion. I grew up Roman Catholic in the Northern Virginia suburbs. But by the time I was a teenager I had rejected the faith of my upbringing and was seeking happiness in romance and baseball, in that order. By the summer of 1978, the year I turned 16, it was pretty clear that neither offered ultimate salvation. (Happily married, I am still waiting to be called to the majors as a relief pitcher, I must admit.)
One summer Friday afternoon I walked uninvited and unannounced into Providence Baptist Church, which was nestled in the shadows of Tyson's Corner Mall in Vienna, Va. I will never forget that day. I first met the janitor, Bobby Carter, and then the youth minister, Kenny Carter. (Jimmy Carter was president, and so I could be forgiven for briefly concluding that all Southern Baptists must be named Carter.)
Four days later, in the providence of God, I was sitting in the church parking lot praying the sinner's prayer and giving my life to Jesus. Christ had used Southern Baptists to do for me and in me what they were so good at, and so known for — offering a clear evangelistic testimony to the gospel of Jesus Christ and leading a young person into a saving relationship with him. You might call this the Billy Graham version of the SBC, and I was sold.
This little church proved very good at discipling that undisciplined young man and initiating him into the folkways and mores of Southern culture and Southern Baptist life. They gave me The Living Bible and the KJV and taught me to read them every day. They drilled me in how to share my faith. They had me read Hal Lindsey and W.A. Criswell. They taught me “Pass It On” and “I Wish We'd All Been Ready.” The pastor, Warren Boling, preached Jesus in a King James cadence. They taught me how to drink iced tea. And they so emphasized ministry and missions that it was not surprising that I experienced a call to ministry within a year of my conversion. I have been pursuing that call ever since.
In some ways mine was the prototypical Southern Baptist experience. I learned the Bible in detail, strict codes of personal morality, a disciplined devotional life, how and why to “witness,” and the centrality of missions and ministry.
More than that, I learned love and grace, mainly from their example. When I messed up, that community loved me. When I stood up at the Royal Ambassadors' banquet my senior year and proposed the merger of the RAs with the Acteens, they gritted their teeth and kept on loving me. When I proposed that we hold a dance at church to bring in new youth, they graciously referred it to a committee, where it is apparently still being studied. When I brought my playing cards for some gin rummy during youth-choir supper, the church ladies firmly but kindly asked me to put them away. This church knew who they were and what they believed, but they weren't angry about it. They initiated me into their way of life, which took some doing, and managed to do so without judging or condemning me for my many mistakes. I will be grateful for that love, always.
There were real saints at that church, some spiritual giants. I remember a vibrant Christian named Chiko, a Japanese Christian woman who was indeed filled with the Holy Spirit. There were times at church when she would tell me that she had seen me in her spirit at a particular time during the week and had felt led to pray for me. Invariably, I had needed prayer especially at those times. Chiko's spiritual life was indeed supernatural. Chiko was perhaps unique in that church, and she was appreciated for who she was without anyone requiring others to be like her — or not to be like her. She played a key role in leading me to Christ and reinforcing my belief at its early stages.
Never in all my years at Providence can I remember the first word being said about politics. Never was there an expectation or even the slightest hint that a good Christian or good Baptist would vote this way or that. We just “did church.” I'm sure there were both Democrats and Republicans in that congregation, but it didn't matter.
I am firmly convinced that throughout the Baptist world — black, white, Asian, Hispanic, African and so on, in all of our dozens of denominations — one can still find thousands upon thousands of individuals and churches that feel something like Providence Baptist Church did in those days when I needed it so badly. Such churches are centered on Jesus Christ. They preach the authoritative and inspired Bible as refracted through the tender lens of Jesus Christ. They are morally serious. They focus on obeying the Great Commission through evangelism, discipleship and missions. They build meaningful experiences of Christian community, they know what they believe but are not overly focused on doctrinal purity. They respect the freedom of fellow believers to express their faith in differing ways. And above all they love people. They are open, trusting, welcoming, kind and warm-hearted. They look you in the eye. They hate fighting. They are known for what they are for, not what they are against.
I know that I am at home spiritually whenever I find Christians who exude this spirit. I have met them all over the world.
I know there are many churches and individuals still affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention that are right there. I know there are many affiliated with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship that are right there. The same can be said of churches in the dozens of other Baptist denominations. One of the great tragedies of our divided people is that our divisions of race, class, secular politics and denominational controversy have been so profound as to prevent us from knowing one another well enough to find this out, to meet the saints on the other side of the barbed wire.
We have a historic chance to change that at the New Baptist Covenant meeting, which was founded by former U. S. President Jimmy Carter and Mercer University President Bill Underwood.
The meeting in Atlanta is intended to celebrate such markers of Christian unity as I found at Providence Baptist and other Baptist churches over the years. I look forward to experiencing meaningful moments of Christian community with brothers and sisters from Baptist fellowships I have never had the privilege of encountering.
The New Baptist Covenant program focuses on poverty, peacemaking, racial inclusion, health-care delivery, evangelism, treatment of prisoners, and other people-centered acts. Some expect it to be a meeting about secular politics. But to the extent there is an external focus of this meeting, it has to do with serving people in the way Jesus demonstrated.
If you look at Jesus' inaugural address in Luke 4 or the Sermon on the Mount, you will find the social/moral agenda for the meeting. This is only “political” to the extent that the inner life of any community of faith is indeed an expression of a community, or polis. When God's people selflessly serve God's world, the world sometimes sits up and takes notice — not because of our demands but because of our faith, active in love.
I think that I will find at the New Baptist Covenant people who will be glad to accept my own profession of faith in Christ, rather than believing they need to examine me on the theological details. I will find people who cherish the Bible without requiring me to affirm a particular doctrine of inspiration. I will find people who focus on the teachings of Jesus, rather than their own theological traditions. I will find people who see that the social vision of the church must be oriented around the same themes that were the focus of Jesus and the prophets, rather than reflect a partisan political ideology or narrow moral agenda.
I believe I will find people who are looking to include as many different kinds of Baptists as possible, rather than to exclude some who do not quite qualify for one reason or another. I believe I will find a quite Baptist spirit, as believers and congregations freely choose to fellowship together and work together on matters of common concern, without feeling the need to control each other or to set the terms of everyone else's engagement.
I believe, at least I hope, I will find — in the hallways and coffee shops, in the workshops and plenary sessions, in the times of study, proclamation and prayer — that charitable and welcoming spirit (Holy Spirit, indeed) that led me to Jesus, and nurtured me in my faith, so long ago.
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— David Gushee is distinguished university professor of Christian ethics at Mercer University. His latest book is The Future of Faith in American Politics: The Public Witness of the Evangelical Center. www.davidgushee.com