As a child in church, I didn’t know much.
I sat quietly in the pew beside my sister. We’d watch as our Great Aunt Emmie would scoot out from a side door into the choir loft of the small Baptist church she attended. Aunt Em wasn’t a Baptist, but when you have a falling out with the Methodists down the road, you’ve got to land somewhere.
I suppose Aunt Em figured the full immersion dippers were as good as any crowd.
Justin Cox
I didn’t know the songs the people there called hymns. I just knew to stand up when I saw others stand up. I’d flip open the thick maroon book and let it rest at whatever page it landed on. I mouthed and hummed, faking it as best I could. Every now and then, I’d adjust the clip on the tie that was holding on to my collared shirt for dear life.
I learned quickly that you were supposed to put something in the plates that got passed around. I saw folded dollar bills, sometimes an envelope. I knew I needed to take money with me, so I emptied a change jar filled with pennies from my parents’ dresser. The next Sunday, my pockets sloshed with the sound of small currency as I walked down the middle aisle. When the plate came to me, I brought out fistfuls of coins. People near me chuckled and pointed. I never brought any more.
“The next Sunday, my pockets sloshed with the sound of small currency as I walked down the middle aisle.”
I kept going with Aunt Em. The summer months brought vacation Bible school. During Christmas came a pageant. At Easter, I watched as the black cloth draped across the cross turned white.
Low Baptist church life isn’t known for following the liturgical calendar, but it does have its seasons. Annie Armstrong and Lottie Moon are markers in it.
I heard their names. Male preachers pointed to their importance. They shared their stories. Told how they were willing to go to spread the good news of Jesus.
“Were they preachers?” I asked Aunt Em.
“Sort of,” she said back. “They were missionaries.”
I nodded, as if the act of bobbing my head up and down cleared the matter up. I was 9 years old and didn’t know any better.
Al Mohler does. Or at least should.
In a recent conversation with Southern Baptist Convention President Clint Pressley, Mohler once again laid out his view that women are limited in their roles within the church. That’s not new news. He’s been clear on his stance for years.
Mohler confesses his beliefs come from his high view of Scripture — inspired, infallible and ultimately unquestionable.
In short, the Bible says it, Mohler believes it, and that settles it.
And to be fair, he’s not alone in that. I know of plenty of Baptists who have built their faith on that same foundation.
But here’s where things start to feel a little less settled for me. Because even those like Mohler who claim to take the Bible just as it is still end up deciding which parts get taken just as they are.
“Even those like Mohler who claim to take the Bible just as it is still end up deciding which parts get taken just as they are.”
For example, take a look at the Gospel of Mark, chapter 16.
In the King James translation ending that I grew up with, Jesus says: “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.”
None of this is buried in the fine print. You don’t need a seminary degree to understand it. It’s right there at the end of the story. No apologetics needed.
This was enough for George Went Hensley, the man considered by many to have popularized serpent-handling in the early 20th century. Hensley was a strict fundamentalist and took the Mark 16 text along with Luke 10:19 literally. “Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.”
This would be enough for those like Liston Pack, Mack Wolford, Jamie Coots, Dewey Chafin and Jimmy Morrow. And while women don’t typically hold the position of pastor within the Sign Follow tradition, no one disputes the impact of Jolo, West Virginia’s Barbara Elkins, on the faith. In fact, according to Morrow in his book Handling Serpents, it was a woman by the name of Nancy Younger Kleinieck who handled serpents in Stone Creek, Va., in the 1890s who inspired a young Hensley.
These and other Sign Followers throughout the Southeast, Central and Southern Appalachia preach and live the word. Some have died for it. For them, all of it is real.
And yet, I’ve never heard Al Mohler calling for a serpent-handling practicum at Southern Seminary. In fact, I’ve yet to hear him in favor of following any of the signs mentioned in Mark 16:17-18. Which is fine. Really, it is. But it does make me wonder how a faith of “the Bible says it” learns, when it needs to, to also say, “well … maybe not like that.”
You know, sitting in that country church as a kid, I thought faith was about getting it right. I thought it was about having the right answers, putting the right thing in the offering plate, sitting and standing when I was supposed to. But somewhere along the way, I started to realize faith might have a little more to do with honesty than absolute certainty. By telling the truth about what we’re doing when we open the Bible and claim it speaks plainly.
Because it doesn’t. Not always. And pretending it does doesn’t make us more faithful — it just makes us less honest. We need to own our bias.
Because if we can, then maybe we can hold those lines a little more humbly. Maybe we can loosen our grip just enough to make room for the very people who’ve historically felt excluded. We can start with women and go from there.
Until then, I’ll keep wondering why some parts of the Bible get explained away while others get enforced.
And I’ll be listening for news about Mohler picking up a rattler or a copperhead. If and when that days comes, I promise I’ll be more inclined to hear him out on everything else.
Justin Cox received his theological education from Campbell University and Wake Forest University School of Divinity and McAfee School of Theology, where he received his doctor of ministry. He is an ordained minister holding standing in the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and American Baptist Churches USA. When not spending time with his spouse and daughters, he can be found writing and baking late into the night. His thoughts and reflections are his own.