There is much to say about the SBC report that was released this past Sunday. I have read about half of it and these are my feelings so far. (This is my personal response and is not an official response from the church I serve in.) All page numbers listed correspond to where the information referenced is found in the report that is linked at the bottom of this post.
The Southern Baptist Convention exists to allow 43,592 autonomous and like-minded churches to work together to send missionaries across the world.
The Executive Committee runs the day-to-day operations of the SBC. While they do not have any authority over individual churches, they are very influential throughout the convention.
My heart broke as I read the emails that said, “No response is needed” (pg. 74) as victims sought help.
My stomach turned at the way the Baptist Press edited a sexual assault account to read as a consensual affair. After a draft of the story that presented a corroborated account of sexual abuse by a seminary professor was presented to SBC leaders, it was changed to say that the seminary professor had a “morally inappropriate relationship” (pg. 6) with a student. The former student, who was working at a high level in LifeWay at the time of publication, was subject to victim shaming in the article’s comment section and eventually resigned their position at LifeWay due to mistreatment that came from the article.
My blood boiled at SBC leaders using church autonomy as an excuse to ignore those who were the victims of abuse within Southern Baptist churches. If 47,592 churches can cooperate in missions, then we can cooperate in reporting predators. I am hopeful that the release of the private database tomorrow along with the creation of a hotline to report abuse will be the beginning of the long road to reconciliation.
At one point, an SBC leader said focusing on the issue of sexual abuse in church was distracting us from the Great Commission. (pg. 93) This “issue” is not distracting us from the Great Commission, this is the Great Commission. How can we say we want to see the Gospel go to the ends of the earth when it does not even exist in our own Executive Committee?
It is easy to point the finger at a few and use them as scapegoats, but the Facebook comment section on the Baptist Press article makes it very clear that this a problem that extends past the Executive Committee. The church must become a place where victims can come forward and feel the love of Christ rather than be blamed for the sin of another person.
We cannot defend the sins of our leaders and protect abusers. Leaders are called to a higher standard and should be held accountable for any and all abuse. While grace and forgiveness should be sought, we should not aim to protect our “base” (pg. 104) or be concerned over what accountability means to the Gospel. Hiding abuse is not protecting the Gospel.
There is more to be said, but that will come later.
There is a song that I have gone back to consistently for the past year. The song captures a conversation between a follower of Christ and God. “Dear God” by Cory Asbury always makes me emotional because it speaks so clearly to the relationship I have with God.
“Dear God, I’ve been chasing their approval and it’s killing me”
Dear God, Cory Asbury
There will always be that little boy trying to get a father’s approval that will never come that lives inside of me. I always thought my greatest joy in life would come in silencing him.
Silencing the little boy would mean making him proud of me.
I wish I could sit 8 year-old me down and tell him how much Bill loves him. I wish I could tell him how much his mom loves him. I wish I could tell him how much Miss Cofer loves him. I wish I could tell him how much Alex, Ryan, Candice, Michael, Andrea, and David love him. Most importantly, I wish I could tell him how much God loves him. How much God loves me.
But that chance will never come and the little boy will always be there. I am not afraid of that. It is a gift that God has given me that drives me to work harder. (Genesis 50:20) It is a chip on my shoulder that I choose to use to motivate me. In the 20 years since the little boy started trying so hard, I have learned that I have an adoptive father on earth and an adoptive Father in Heaven that love me unconditionally. One was willing to take the little boy in as his own while the other was willing to send His Son to die for his sins.
“And dear child I hope you know how much I love you and I’m proud of you And please believe The thoughts I have for you will never change or fade away And when you felt like giving up I never did”
For years I had told people that this was a place they should go. I would tell them that it was a place they should not be afraid of or ashamed of. Yet, I had never taken my own advice.
But here I was on a sunny September day, standing outside of my car looking up at the church sign. The church does not seem like much from the outside. It is located in a shopping center between a barbershop and a pawn shop. The sign that was staring back at me is simple. It is white with blue writing. I had been in many churches before, but this time was different.
Today marked two weeks from the day my heart shattered into thousands of pieces. The breakup hit me hard and I immediately drove home. My mom gave me a huge hug and let me bawl on her shoulders.
And then I saw my step-dad. This was the man who spent countless hours playing video games with me. This was the man who helped me learn what it meant to be a man who took care of his family. This was the man who showed me the type of love my Heavenly Father had for me before any of us were Christians. We have hugged before, but this time was different. It was the first time in my life that I ever got a fatherly, “everything is going to be ok” hug. As he listened to me weep about the pain I was in, he kept telling me he knew and that it was going to be ok. I will never forget that moment.
The next few days were a blur. One of my best friends took a day off of work and hung out with me all Sunday and I finally went home on Tuesday.
We met again one more time and it was officially over.
I went to Huntsville to be with some other friends for a few days. While there, I started making some phone calls.
Those phone calls led me to this point.
In a polo shirt and khakis shorts, I carried my North Face backpack filled with a Bible, journal, and pens into the church.
“Hey, how can I help you,” asked the receptionist.
“Yes,” I stuttered. “I have a counseling appointment for 1 o’clock.”
Journaling has played a huge part in the grief process for me. And then as a Christian, spending time reading my Bible and in prayer has helped as well.
There have been many times that I have stood in front of a group of teenagers and even full congregations and said, “It is ok to not be ok.”
Funny enough, the last message I preached before the breakup was on Matthew 6:25-34. One of the main points was that sometimes God performs miracles and delivers us from whatever trials we are in. But that is not normal. Recovering from being hurt usually takes a process. And a part of that process could include going to counseling.
“What a liar!”
That is what I think when I look back on that message. I did not lie on purpose. I would never do that from the pulpit. But it was a lie.
There had been several times throughout my life when I needed help, but I did not get it. From childhood trauma to teenage depression to personal struggles as an adult, I have often ignored some pretty big things all for the sake of saying, “I am ok.”
The fact is that we are in 2020 and there should not be a stigma behind mental health. Going to a counselor is not a sign that we have somehow failed as adults. It means that we have succeeded in understanding where we are struggling and are seeking guidance to overcome those struggles.
“What brings you here today,” my counselor asked.
“Well, I just went through a breakup and I want to make sure I am processing everything correctly,” I responded.
I have a basic understanding of psychology and the grief process. I know the five stages. Trust me, I have gone through all five a few times during this process.
But I wanted to make sure I was going through the process in a healthy way. And honestly, I would feel like a complete hypocrite if I didn’t go.
Long term obedience starts with daily obedience.
Marc Hodges, Senior Pastor, FBC Thorsby
It has been just over a month and there are days where things seem normal. I go to work and I hang out with friends. I go to some of my students’ football games.
But man, some days are awful where I do not want to do anything. And let me tell you, Facebook Memories are the worst. And engagement photos. And The Office. And that stupid coffee shop. And Spanish. And Ed Sheeran songs. On those days, I just want to cry and not get out of bed.
But, I get up. I get dressed. I go for a run. I read. I pray. I journal. I go to work.
One of the first conversations I had after the breakup was with my old youth minister. I told him about my confusion and concern about the future. I am someone who likes to have a pretty good picture of what the future looks like. Not necessarily all of the details, but I like a good outline. And for the first time in almost five years, that outline was gone.
He told me this:
Long term obedience starts with daily obedience.
I am not sure who I’m going to marry. I am not sure where I am going to be in five years.
But, today?
Today God has called me to do a large number of small things. I can’t map out my future, but I can be obedient today.
It is ok to not be ok. It is just not ok to stay there.
The truth is that I am not ok. Before I started writing this, I cried. I’m probably going to cry a few more times this week. I’m probably going to get angry over a random memory.
I am not ok.
But I am getting help.
I will drive to that church on Thursday. I will get out of my car, look up at that white sign with blue writing, grab my North Face backpack, and walk through those doors. I will tell my counselor about how rough my week was. I will ask my friends to pray for me. I will ask my church to pray for me.
And each day, I will seek to be obedient to what God is calling me to do.
It is ok to not be ok. It’s just not ok to stay there.
If you break your arm, you go to the doctor to get help. If you flunk a test, you go have a conversation with the professor.
If you are living with depression, anxiety, grief, or any other mental health problem, I want to encourage you to get help.
Two of the most difficult things for me to do was finding a counselor and walking through those doors.
If you, or someone you know, needs help, I would love to help with that first thing. Please reach out and I will do whatever I can to get you or them connected with a local counselor.
And if you are in the area, I will go with you to your session.
PS Keep praying for me.
PSS if you see me crying in my car, just let me be. My crying sessions are getting shorter every week and I will be done in a few minutes.
It has been almost two months since the murder of George Floyd. Though I have shared several posts and articles, I have not addressed the issue of racial injustice in my own words. But as someone who works really hard to understand different cultures and someone who believes that we are all created in the image of our Creator, I must address this issue.
It was around the midpoint of June when I finally saw the video. I am ashamed to write that. But it is true. And as I sat in my car watching this man’s life be taken away from him, I cried.
Empathy is the ability to understand and know someone else’s feelings.
I became a Christian when I was 15 years old. I’m aware that is a young age to become a Christian, but it was still old enough for me to distinctly remember my life before making that decision.
I remember how I felt about Christianity. And it was not good.
From my perspective, Christianity was a religion of hate and judgment. And that view helped shape me as a young person. Since I grew up in the Bible Belt, I rebelled against any idea of Christianity.
So what changed my view of this faith I now call my own?
I met someone who was a Christian that did not fill my expectations of what a Christian looked like.
And I eventually became a Christian.
I grew up with a diverse group of friends and I never knew what they went through as minorities.
I would say that I did not see color. I am sure high school me would say “All Lives Matter” when faced with someone saying “Black Lives Matter.”
I studied journalism during my first couple of years in college and worked for our school newspaper. I remember covering an event celebrating Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. It was at this event that I first had a black person challenge my views of race in our country.
I did not react well.
I spoke about my upbringing and how rough it was. I did not listen. But she planted a seed in my mind.
A couple of years later, I got into a heated argument with a black coworker about her black experience in my area.
I used data and stats to back up my arguments against her, but I did not listen to her. I did not hear the pain in her voice.
It was a couple of years later at a youth event that God really changed the way I viewed the issues of race and racial injustice in our country.
We were at a water park and I was hanging out with a couple of our black students. As we were walking around the park, I noticed that a large amount of people were giving us dirty looks. As a white person, I cannot explain the feeling I had in that moment. I have come to know that the feeling I had in that moment is the feeling many of our brothers and sisters live with on a daily basis. I realized that the feeling I had in that moment would not be there a few hour laters when I was walking around Walmart by myself.
For a moment.
For a lifetime.
I love research and I love backing up my arguments with objective data, but there is no data for measuring that moment for me versus the lifetime of others. There is no data for the freedom I feel going for a run through my town. There is no data for the lack of judgment I feel walking around a water park. There is no data for the lack of fear I have when I am pulled over.
I messaged my former coworker and apologized for not listening.
I messaged my best friend from high school and apologized for not seeing the difference between my life and hers.
I see color and the beauty God has given each unique culture. I believe that all lives matter, which cannot be true until black lives matter.
We cannot allow our insecurities or fear to keep us from making the changes we need in our country. It is ok to be uncomfortable. It is ok, for a moment, to feel the way our brothers and sisters feel their entire lives.
Empathy is a powerful thing.
If you hold a particular view, find someone who holds a different view than you. Find someone who has experienced life differently than you.
I cannot pretend to know what it is like to be a minority in our country. The truth is that I am a white male and my world is shaped by that. But I can work really hard to understand. I can have conversations with people from different cultures. I can do research on black history.
James Dubuisson 