Baptists

, , , , , ,

Memory eternal: Robert Sloan's final advice on Christian higher education

, , , , , ,
Memory eternal: Robert Sloan's final advice on Christian higher education

Year after year, faith-based colleges produce waves of upbeat brochures, social-media appeals and videos for parents and their children.

The presidents of these institutions should study these materials closely, said Houston Christian University President Robert B. Sloan, Jr., at the January 2026 conference of the International Alliance for Christian Education. 

"All of the brochures in the world, declaring in glossy print the Christian claims of an institution, cannot overcome the failures of personnel to embrace, expound and affirm the Christian identity of the institution," said Sloan, who led Baylor University, his alma mater (and mine), before his 2006 move to Houston. "If the recruiting materials and fundraising newsletters do not match what really goes on in the classroom or in student life, you may expect not only disappointment but cynicism and, eventually, conflict."

Thus, presidents must have courage when hiring faculty, he stressed.

"When you hire someone," said Sloan, "you should never accept their mere consent, no matter how good their credentials are academically, to 'appreciate' or 'be sensitive to' your culture and character. I used to know of a situation where an interviewer would refer to the 'expectations of our constituents' and then ask, 'Are you all right with that?'"

Close is not good enough, stressed Sloan. It's crucial to learn, "Does the candidate want to be at an institution like yours? … Or do they simply want a job?"

Sloan's address -- 11 theses for Christian higher education -- was timely, after years of headlines about faith-based schools closing their doors as experts warned about a looming "enrollment cliff" due to falling birth rates. It was also symbolic because Sloan died on July 4, after suffering a stroke at age 77.

That plenary address "was the best presentation I have ever heard him give. It will serve as a guide for IACE and for all Christian higher education for years to come," said Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary President David Dockery, writing for Baptist Press.

, ,

Life in a fishbowl: Southern Baptist pastors' wives get a chance to tell their stories

, ,
Life in a fishbowl: Southern Baptist pastors' wives get a chance to tell their stories

The Orange County Convention Center in Orlando will be buzzing when 20,000 Southern Baptists gather for their annual national meeting, rushing between forums, worship, reunions, business sessions and politicking about their elections and resolutions.

But there will be an upstairs room set aside June 8-9, divided into spaces for one-on-one encounters while a white-noise machine creates as much privacy as possible. For the second time, leaders connected to a network of Southern Baptist women will meet with pastors' wives who applied, in advance, for counseling.

One 2025 participant offered confidential feedback: "On top of church ministry concerns, I was broken over my relationship with our prodigal daughter and burdened by the time-consuming caregiving responsibilities with my aging mother. Though I had never gone to counseling, I knew its value. … I was given the freedom to be completely honest, without fear of damaging our family or my testimony."

Counselors later discussed the most common concerns, said Cheryl Bell, a former nurse who has a doctorate in biblical counseling. She teaches at Southwestern Baptist Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas, and also helps women who are pursuing doctoral degrees.

Many pastors' wives say they "live in fishbowls." Others describe being on the "front lines" of ministry, striving to help husbands who seem to have targets on their backs. In these sessions, participants often expressed anxiety, anger, loneliness and discouragement.

"They are always being observed," said Bell, reached by Zoom. "It's a critical gaze. … I think church members expect their pastors and their wives to be unique -- spiritually. … When they show that they have a sin nature they feel like they are immediately under judgement."

Can families hide in a fishbowl? Bell laughed and added: "That would take a lot of energy. Period."

, , , , ,

Pope Leo XIV in Africa: Concerning Catholics tempted to worship other gods

, , , , ,
Pope Leo XIV in Africa: Concerning Catholics tempted to worship other gods

During his recent visit to booming churches in Africa, Pope Leo XIV sounded warnings to Catholics tempted to embrace pieces of other religions, including sorcery and superstition.

Consider, he said, biblical accounts of throngs following Jesus because of his miracles and healings.

"The crowd sees Jesus as means to an end, a provider of services. If he had not given them something to eat, his actions and teachings would not have interested them," said the pope, during an April 20 Mass at Saurimo in Angola. "This happens when genuine faith is replaced with superstitious practices, in which God becomes an idol that is sought only when it is advantageous to us and only for as long as it is. …

"Even the motivation of the crowd is inadequate: they were not seeking a teacher whom they love, but a leader to applaud for their own advantage."

The pope's warnings about syncretism -- mixing beliefs and practices from clashing faiths -- were important since many Catholics in Africa are surrounded by tribal religions, Islam and "health and wealth" forms of Pentecostal Christianity. Still, Africa's conservative Catholic churches are growing faster than those on any other continent, according to Vatican statistics.

However, the pope's remarks were timely for another reason.

Recently, a 1995 photograph surfaced showing Father Robert Prevost, now Pope Leo, at an "eco-theology" event in Brazil that included references -- in words and symbols -- to "Pachamama," an Andean fertility goddess, or "Mother Earth." Some Catholics flashed back to a 2019 controversy, a Vatican synod of Pan-Amazon bishops with an event featuring a pregnant "Our Lady of the Amazon" statue, which Pope Francis later described as "Pachamama."

These photos of the future pope may be important, but Catholics will need to see how Leo responds, said Mark Lambert, writing for the conservative Catholic Unscripted website. Ultimately, what matters is how the pope addresses the first of the Ten Commandments, "You shall have no other gods before me."

, , , , , , ,

Memory eternal: For my brother Don Mattingly, a pioneer in youth ministry

, , , , , , ,
Memory eternal: For my brother Don Mattingly, a pioneer in youth ministry

The Dictionary.com definition for "centrifuge" offers this: "An apparatus that rotates at high speed and by centrifugal force separates substances of different densities, as milk and cream."

It was a strange name, in the late 1970s, for a Southern Baptist Convention youth leadership project. But there was logic to it, according to the man behind the idea -- my brother Don Mattingly.

Centrifuge camps "would spin kids out into their futures, that's what Don always said. Out into ministries. Out into careers they wouldn't have thought of before. Out into projects back home, helping people," said Joe Palmer, the second Centrifuge leader. "It's not all playing volleyball, basketball and games. … They're learning about the rest of their lives."

For my older brother -- who died on March 18 -- the centrifuge of change in young lives was a major theme during his decades as a leader on the national SBC staff, at Baylor University and in countless youth-education events across America.

As the world whirled faster and faster, Don argued that religious leaders needed to create ministries that could spin young people in positive ways, helping them discover what mattered in their hearts, minds and souls.

Centrifuge began in 1979 in Glorieta, New Mexico, quickly attracting flocks of campers, with many Bible studies held in stairwells due to lack of space. This summer, during a "Fuge" (the nickname that stuck) somewhere in America, the network will register the 2 millionth participant in these unique camps.

At the heart of my brother's vision was a track system of classes and forums in which teens heard young leaders -- often seminary or graduate students -- address a variety of potential vocations. Fuge camps still offer tracks on sports, "STEM" careers, sign language, drama, "Random acts of service," music, "spiritual gifts" and more. "MFuge" camps cover work in local, national and global missions.

This was one of my brother's big ideas, as he planned and worked, while earning a religious education doctorate along the way: Young people needed to know that God can call them to work in pulpits or in classrooms, in missions or in coaching, in arts or hard sciences. The church should help them consider their options.

, , , ,

Looking back at "Old Christmas" traditions in the mountains of southern Appalachia

, , , ,
Looking back at "Old Christmas" traditions in the mountains of southern Appalachia

Candles in farmhouse windows can shine a long way on dark nights in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

That light was especially symbolic at Christmas, when settlers in frontier Appalachia -- many of them Scot-Irish -- faced hard journeys on rough roads and trails through terrain crisscrossed with mountain ridges and valleys cut by rivers and creeks.

"There was a real sense of community building that occurred during the Christmas celebration across Appalachia," said historian Ted Olson of the Appalachian Studies department at East Tennessee State University in Johnson City. "Before automobiles, travel would be on foot or horseback or in wagons. It was difficult to travel through winter conditions, with snow and ice and whatnot to visit kith and kin. …

"The candles would invite people in, suggesting that the flame of spiritual renewal is alive in this house. They said, 'Please join us! … You are welcome. We are all fellow Christians celebrating these sacred days together.'"

On the High Plains and in many frontier regions, farmers often lived great distances from one another. The distances were shorter in the "Southern Highlands" of Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee and North Carolina, but the terrain was treacherous. It might take two or three days to visit extended family or a nearby town with stores, a doctor and other necessities.

Many frontier churches welcomed occasional visits by circuit-riding preachers, and an Irish Catholic family would almost certainly be living far from a priest. Travelers on mountain roads, especially in winter storms, needed safe shelter. During the 12 days the Appalachian people called "Old Christmas," having relatives, neighbors and travelers at the door singing carols captured the essence of the season, noted Olson, author of the book "Blue Ridge Folklife," and a poet, musician and photographer.

Visitors could shout "Christmas gift," since the hosts would be prepared to offer them small gifts to show they were welcome, perhaps an orange, some candy, a decorated pinecone or something else gathered from nature.

, , ,

Southern humorist's memories: Halloween in the Bible Belt is a whole different thing

, , ,
Southern humorist's memories: Halloween in the Bible Belt is a whole different thing

In the first act of the Judgement House drama, actors gathered for a raucous teen party with lots of booze.

In the second scene at the born-again haunted house, the young Matt Mitchell and other kids saw a DUI car crash, with dead teens surrounded by ambulance lights, police and loud sirens. The third room was Hell, a dark, cramped, basement room with the heat set on stun.

This morality tale was rather blunt. But, for Mitchell, the scariest moment took place in Heaven -- the church gym decorated with fluffy white curtains, the bright light of eternity and Jesus descending on a scissor lift from a construction site.

The man dressed as Jesus got off the lift and "he went around the room whispering into everyone's ear, individually," recalled Mitchell, in "Southern Halloween is … Different," a feature on his YouTube channel dedicated to deep-fried culture, food and humor.

"When he got to me, he said, 'I'll see you one day.' But I thought he said, 'I'll see you MONDAY.' Yeah, not a fun weekend. Even less of a fun Monday. … So, happy Halloween, y'all. Watch out for Jesus on a scissor lift."

Obviously, there's Halloween and then there's Bible Belt Halloween.

Modern Halloween is complicated. Old-fashioned Halloween still exists, with costumed children going door-to-door seeking candy. But on some suburban streets, many homes are now buried in intense lights, spiderwebs and armies of devils, demons and skeletons, like a spooky competitor with the December holidays.

Mitchell, a seventh-generation Alabamian, grew up Baptist and remains active in a Baptist congregation. Today, he said, it appears that the "hell" house era -- with its Off Broadway meets Bible camp vibe -- has run its course. What started as evangelism "kind of went wild and turned into theatrics and less about the Gospel. ... The wheels came off."

However, lots of Southern believers still consider Halloween a "celebration of all things evil" and thus, strive the avoid the holiday -- sort of, noted Mitchell, reached by Zoom.

, , , , ,

What is "success" for modern pastors working in a stressful ministry marketplace?

, , , , ,
What is "success" for modern pastors working in a stressful ministry marketplace?

Every decade or so, perhaps during a global pandemic, it's common to see news reports about pastors leaving pulpits in search of less stressful work.

Consider the 2024 Hartford Institute for Religion Research poll in which more than half of pastors said they have, at some point, seriously considered quitting, with 10% admitting this often crossed their minds. According to 2022 polling by the Barna Institute, the main causes for anxiety were strong job stress (56%), feeling isolated (43%) and current political tensions (38%).

These reports are sobering, but complex, noted Ryan Burge of the Center on Religion and Politics at Washington University in St. Louis. But it's important to note the other side of the equation, when studying how clergy view their work. Five years ago, the National Survey of Religious leaders found that, when asked if "in most ways" their lives were ideal, 21% of pastors "completely" agreed, 50% said "moderately" and 16% “slightly." Only 1% "completely" disagreed and 2% said "moderately."

"The long and short of it was this -- I can't find another population group that scores higher on this metric than clergy," noted Burge, on his Graphs about Religion website. In fact, "I'm pretty confident in saying that clergy seemed pretty content with their station in life (or at least this was the case before the pandemic)."

No one doubts that pastors face significant stress, said Scott McConnell, executive director of Lifeway Research. The key is whether clergy and laity have clear understandings about what is expected from pastors and their families.

For example, what does the word "success" mean? Is that defined by growth in the congregation's size, as well as its facilities, staff and budget?

Lifeway has done a number of surveys on topics related to the life of pastors and, for most, "success" means "they are seeing lives changed, people following Christ more closely, troubling sins being avoided, people serving the Lord in ways that they have not done before," said McConnell, reached by telephone. "I think most pastors see some of that every year, but they always want to see more."

, , , , , , ,

The Rev. Bill Moyers clashed, early and often, with religion gaps in major newsrooms

, , , , , , ,
The Rev. Bill Moyers clashed, early and often, with religion gaps in major newsrooms

The year was 1976 and Jimmy Carter, a Sunday school teacher from Georgia, had shocked major newsrooms by discussing his "born again" faith.

Presidential candidates were not supposed to do things like that.

At CBS News, special correspondent Bill Moyers received a green light for a prime-time feature, "What It Means to be Born Again." After seeing the finished piece, a network executive pulled Moyers aside to chat.

The man's face was so serious, "that I thought he was about to tell me he'd been born again," Moyers told me in 1987. No, the executive said: "That was the worst show I have ever seen in my life."

The program was "cut to bits," Moyers said. Network leaders "didn't think it was news. They just didn't understand what was going on."

The broadcaster faced this disconnect many times. Moyers died on June 24 at the age of 91, after a long and complex career in which he served as speech writer and press secretary for President Lyndon Johnson, followed by decades of work with CBS, NBC and PBS. However, before that, the Rev. Bill Moyers was a Southern Baptist pastor in Texas towns like Brandon and Weir. He was proud of those roots and his convictions as a progressive Baptist.

"By no means is Moyers a typical Southern Baptist," I noted, in a 1993 "On Religion" column. "He is the rare Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary graduate whose books and tapes are popular at New Age conventions. He is a hero wherever there are Baptists whose annual donations to National Public Radio are greater than their gifts to Focus on the Family."

Preaching before the first presidential inauguration of Bill Clinton, another Baptist progressive, Moyers got down to basics, sharing a saying passed on by his father -- Cain and Abel were "the first Baptists because they introduced fratricide" to the biblical drama.

At the heart of Baptist life "is what we call soul competency," he explained.

, , , ,

Quiet crisis: Who will lead those small churches all over the United States?

, , , ,
Quiet crisis: Who will lead those small churches all over the United States?

One of the crucial services the Rev. Tony Marr provides as leader of the Higher Ministries consulting firm is to connect young pastors -- fresh out of seminaries and Bible colleges -- with churches that need new leaders.

But there's a problem. Most of these churches seeking pastors have fewer than 150 members and are considered "small churches" in the Protestant marketplace. Many of them have around 50 active members or less. It takes about 80 to 90 active members, in most church traditions, to pay a full-time pastor's salary.

"This is a conversation I have almost every week," said Marr, who is based in Johnson City, Tennessee. "At any given time, we have three or four small churches looking for pastors. … It seems like nobody wants to go to those small churches. Nobody wants to serve God there."

When Marr asks young pastors to describe their ideal "first job," most say that they want to serve as an associate pastor on the staff of a truly large church -- one with 1,000 members or more. In other words, they want to prepare to lead churches of that size, or larger.

"They have no intention of taking a church with 45 or 50 or 60 active members," he said, reached by telephone. "Many of these young pastors would rather work in coffee shops than lead that kind of church, even if these jobs would let them preach several times a week while ministering to real people and real families. They would rather work part-time, or be volunteers, at the large churches that they see in their futures."

This is a crisis that denominational leaders will have to face, he explained, for a simple reason. A recent survey from Faith Communities Today (.pdf) found that seven out of 10 American congregations have fewer than 100 people attending their main worship services. The average church has 65 members in the pews on Sunday. Digging deeper, in some denominations -- especially shrinking mainline bodies -- most congregations struggle to pay full-time salaries.

Backing that up, a Baptist Press report stressed that the "most recent National Congregations Study (NCS) found the median congregation in the U.S. welcomes 70 regular participants, including adults and children, and has an annual budget of $100,000."