evangelicals

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Southern Baptists after Anaheim: Where to now when wrestling with sexual abuse?

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Southern Baptists after Anaheim: Where to now when wrestling with sexual abuse?

Before the Southern Baptists Convention's strong vote to approve what supporters called "bare minimum" sexual-abuse reforms -- with victims in the crowd weeping with relief -- there was a strategic amendment to the recommendations.

Rather than stay with the independent Guidepost Solutions organization, the Abuse Reform Implementation Task Force would seek to use "best practices in keeping with Southern Baptist church polity," while a "Ministry Check" website tracking those "credibly accused" of abuse would be "established and maintained by an independent contractor."

Activist Rachel Denhollander pleaded, before the vote: "Institutions must be held accountable. It doesn't matter who they are. Justice and truth are always what we should pursue."

Afterwards, the attorney and #ChurchToo abuse survivor posted another challenge on Twitter: "It is the first, most basic steps. But it is a testament to the survivors who fought so long and so hard. I am grateful. Now let's keep working."

That work will depend on the cooperation of pastors and church leaders in the SBC's 47,000 local churches, as well as the administrators and trustees of agencies, boards, seminaries and other institutions at the state and national levels.

The bottom line: In Southern Baptist "polity" -- with sprawling structures of autonomous congregations that, to varying degrees, fund state, national and global ministries -- there are no leadership structures resembling local Presbyterian presbyteries, regional annual conferences among United Methodists or the powerful diocesan structures of Catholics, Episcopalians and others. Local churches ordain, hire and fire clergy.

Outsiders often struggle to understand the theological and practical implications of Baptist polity, said Thomas Kidd, who teaches church history at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and Baylor University.

"Many people continue to think that the SBC can make its churches do this or that or the other and that simply isn't true," he said.

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Listening to Naomi Judd: She tried to be honest about her angels and her demons

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Listening to Naomi Judd: She tried to be honest about her angels and her demons

Naomi Judd thought she understood the ties that bind country-music stars and their audience -- then one aggressive fan went and joined the Pentecostal church the Judd family called home.

"It really burdened me," said Judd, after signing hundreds of her "Love Can Build a Bridge" memoir back in 1993. "I just don't sign autographs at church. The best way I can explain it to children … is to say, 'Honey, Jesus is the star.' "

After a year of this tense standoff, Judd became concerned and wrote the fan. "I said, 'I want you to really get away by yourself and read this letter and answer this question honestly: Do you come to church to see The Judds or do you come to church to see God?' She never came back to church. But she was in the autograph line today."

Through it all, Judd and her brash daughter Wynonna have talked openly about their triumphs and their struggles. Many fans identified with their failures just as much as the messages about faith and family.

At the time of that 1993 interview, Naomi Judd had battled through waves of anxiety attacks to address some dark realities -- such as rape, crisis pregnancy and her deadly battle with hepatitis C that retired the The Judds.

What she hadn't discussed was the sexual abuse in her childhood that led to treatment-resistant depression. Judd's April 30th death, at age 76, focused new attention on blunt passages in her 2016 book "River of Time," in which she said had been tempted by suicide. "I wanted to be completely honest that if someone took out a gun and killed me on stage, they would be doing me a favor," she wrote.

The Judds were inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame the day after Naomi's death and her shaken daughter Ashley Judd told the crowd, "I'm sorry that she couldn't hang on until today."

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After 'Born Again': What were the Big Ideas woven into the work of Chuck Colson?

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After 'Born Again': What were the Big Ideas woven into the work of Chuck Colson?

As a D.C. Beltway power player, the late Charles W. Colson worked with a "Thank God it's Monday" attitude that meant his colleagues always knew they could contact him about hot topics and decisions.

But there was one exception -- visits by his autistic grandson Max.

"If Chuck was with Max, his phone was turned off," said Dave Carlson of the Colson Center for Christian Worldview. "Max could stop him in his tracks."

This bond was rooted in a conviction that shaped the Nixon White House strategist's work after his 1973 born-again Christian conversion and guilty plea for Watergate crimes that put him in federal prison, said Carlson, who spent two decades as a Colson aide and editor. This same conviction led Colson to create the global Prison Fellowship ministry in 1976.

"It didn't matter if you were in prison or what kind of crimes put you there. It didn't matter if you were missing a chromosome or were autistic," he said. Colson believed "we are all humans made in the image of God -- Imago Dei. He was passionate about that until the end."

The 80-year-old Colson died on April 21, 2012, felled by a brain hemorrhage moments after a speech about rising threats to religious liberty. His colleagues marked the 10-year anniversary by rebroadcasting that speech during a BreakPoint radio commentary.

"What we're witnessing in our culture … is but the tip of the iceberg. It's the latest visible manifestation of a growing hostility towards Christianity mainly because -- this has always been the case -- government officials feel threatened by the power of the church because we all worship a king higher than the kings of this earth," said Colson.

Cultural issues are bigger than mere politics, he stressed.

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Healing that old Sunday morning racial divide? Start with pastors breaking bread

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Healing that old Sunday morning racial divide? Start with pastors breaking bread

The Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., faced a barrage of questions about race and politics during his landmark 1960 appearance on NBC News' "Meet the Press," but one of the most memorable exchanges concerned a blunt question about church life.

"How many white people are members of your church in Atlanta?", asked a reporter from Nashville.

"I think it is one of the tragedies of our nation, one of the shameful tragedies, that 11 o'clock on Sunday morning is one of the most segregated hours, if not the most segregated hour, in Christian America," King replied. Any church that has "a segregated body is standing against the spirit and the teachings of Jesus Christ, and it fails to be a true witness," he added.

Millions of Americans are still wrestling with this Sunday morning divide.

But another practical question emerged during a recent Southern Baptist Convention program entitled "Pursuing Unity: A Discussion of Racial Reconciliation Efforts and the SBC." Can Black and White church folks find gaps in their jammed schedules and start breaking bread together?

"It doesn't matter how many panel discussions you watch. It doesn't matter how many books you read, how many conferences you go to. None of that will do better than dinner table ministry," said the Rev. Jon Kelly of Chicago West Bible Church.

If people want progress, he said, they need to consider their circle of friends and ask "why everyone looks like me, votes like me, thinks like me. … When we talk about racial reconciliation, we want the fruit of reconciliation without the relationships. Until our dinner tables become diversified, … until we eat bread together and fellowship together, we won't make any progress."

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Episcopal Church poll: Americans like Jesus (sort of), but not his followers

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Episcopal Church poll: Americans like Jesus (sort of), but not his followers

When it comes to exploring what Americans think about Jesus, a new study offers Christian leaders both good news and bad news.

The good news is that 76% of Americans affirm the "historical existence" of "Jesus of Nazareth," although it's also interesting to note that if 89% of self-identified Christians embraced that statement, the implication is that 11% are not sure.

Meanwhile, 84% of participants in a new "Jesus in America" study -- conducted by the global Ipsos research company for the Episcopal Church -- agreed that "Jesus was an important spiritual figure."

The bad news? While 50% of "not religious" Americans accepted this "important spiritual figure" language, they were much less impressed with the believers who represent Jesus.

When asked, "What characteristics do you associate with Christians in general?", the nonreligious selected these words from the poll's options -- "hypocritical" (55%), "judgmental" (54%) and "self-righteous" (50%). Next up: "arrogant," "unforgiving" and "disrespectful."

It appears that one of the goals of this poll -- with questions about racism, social justice and last year's attack on the U.S. Capitol -- was to see if nonbelievers have different attitudes about liberal and conservative Christians, said political scientist Ryan Burge of Eastern Illinois University, author of the new book "20 Myths about Religion and Politics in America." He is co-founder of the Religion in Public website and a contributor at GetReligion.org, which I have led since 2004.

"This is the million-dollar question," said Burge, who is also a pastor in the progressive American Baptist Church. "If non-religious people are turned off by what they see as the stricter faith of many Christians, evangelicals in particular, then wouldn't it make sense for them to seek more flexible alternatives?

"If there's all kinds of room in mainline Protestant churches these days, and that's putting it mildly, then why aren't these kinds of people filling up some of those pews?"

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Is the Southern Baptist Convention preparing to fight its 1979 all over again?

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Is the Southern Baptist Convention preparing to fight its 1979 all over again?

Once upon a time, Southern Baptists in Bible Belt communities knew how to talk to people who didn't go to church.

"We were dealing with people who were, for the most part, like us," said Baptist historian Nathan Finn, the provost of North Greenville University, located in the South Carolina hills near the North Carolina border. "Everyone understood sweet tea, fried chicken and SEC football. It was easier to talk to those people about Jesus."

Things changed, as the greater Greenville-Spartanburg welcomed waves of high-tech firms and industries with global brands such as BMW, Bosch, Fluor, Hitachi and many others. Today's newcomers speak German or Japanese.

"It's not Black folks and White folks from the South. We're past that. The Sunbelt has gone global and we're more urban. We don't know how to talk to the new people," said Finn. "The cultural gaps are bigger. … Southern Baptists are better at handling these kinds of issues in foreign missions than in our own communities."

Finn has been studying this trend and others for years, which led him to write a series of articles in 2009 for Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary entitled "Fifteen Factors that have Changed the SBC since 1979."

Anyone who knows Southern Baptist Convention history gets that 1979 reference. That was when activists backing "biblical inerrancy" attacked establishment leaders of America's largest Protestant flock, while also supporting causes favored by the surging Religious Right. Electing one SBC president after another during the 1980s, this "conservative resurgence" helped change the face of evangelicalism.

There are signs a second Baptist civil war may be ahead. A key moment came on March 1, when SBC President Ed Litton of Alabama said he would not -- as has become the norm -- seek a second term. Last June, he narrowly defeated a pastor from the Conservative Baptist Network, a new coalition that insists SBC leaders have become "too woke" on Critical Race Theory, the role of women, COVID-19 policies and other fault lines in American life.

Finn is convinced that Southern Baptists are, this time around, fighting over how to respond to rapid cultural changes, as opposed to the theological disputes of the past.

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How can churches fight sexual abuse? Denhollander has practical, spiritual advice

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How can churches fight sexual abuse? Denhollander has practical, spiritual advice

In this age of small-group ministries, most pastors would know how to handle a crisis that affected significant numbers of believers in their pews.

"If you had one in four members of your congregation actively battling cancer or one in four members … experiencing being widowed or losing a spouse, chances are that you would have some level of intentional ministry to those individuals," said Rachel Denhollander, in a recent Trinity Forum event focusing on how churches respond to sexual abuse. "Maybe you would have a support group or a Bible study for them. You would have meal trains to help provide for their physical needs."

But many sexual-abuse victims hesitate to speak out, she said, because churches act as if they don't exist. Thus, they have little reason to believe the sins and crimes committed against them will be handled in a way that offers safety and healing. Far too many religious leaders act as if they haven't grasped the magnitude of this crisis.

"There is an astonishing perception gap and it's really inexcusable at this point in time," she said, speaking to victims, clergy and activists online -- including participants in 24 nations outside the United States. "We've had the data, literally, for decades. … Even what we know is dramatically undercounted.

"The statistic has stayed right around one in four women, for sexual violence, by the time they reach age 18. … The rate continues to rise and there really isn't any excuse, at this point in time, for not knowing that data. But sometimes, it's emotionally easier to not know that data and all of us have that intrinsic desire to not have to see the darkness that's around us."

Sexual abuse is a hot-button issue everywhere, from small fundamentalist flocks to the Roman Catholic Church. Revelations from #MeToo scandals have rocked the careers of A-list players in entertainment, politics, sports, academia and business.

Denhollander is an attorney, activist and author who is best known as the first female gymnast to publicly accuse Larry Nassar -- team physician for U.S.A. Gymnastics -- of committing sexual abuse during physical-therapy sessions. When telling her own story, she stresses that she was also abused in church, at age 7.

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Which is a more 'Christian' chant: 'Let's go Brandon!' or 'Pray for Biden!'

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Which is a more 'Christian' chant: 'Let's go Brandon!' or 'Pray for Biden!'

In the beginning, there was an obscene chant at the Talladega Superspeedway that NBC producers urgently needed to ignore during a live broadcast.

Interviewing winner Brandon Brown, reporter Kelli Stavast pretended the NASCAR crowd was chanting, "Let's go Brandon!" -- not cursing President Joe Biden.

The rest is history, as the wink-wink slogan soaked into political jargon and mass media. What shocked the Rev. Seth Carter -- a young Southern Baptist pastor in Kentucky -- was when church people began baptizing "Let's go Brandon!" into common speech.

"To be clear, I am no supporter of our president's actions or policies. In no way do I feel support for him welling up inside of me," he wrote, in a Baptist Press commentary.

"However, I recognize that my feelings can never be the proper guide of the attitude I am to have toward him. As a Christian and a believer in the inspired, inerrant and infallible Word of God contained in the Bible, the truth of God's Word is what ought to guide my attitude toward President Biden (or any other leader for that matter)."

Christians could try chanting, "Pray for Biden," he said. They need to see Biden the way the apostles Peter and Paul viewed "the evil emperor of their day, Nero."

Carter noted this First Peter passage: "Submit yourselves for the Lord's sake to every human institution, whether to a king as the one in authority, or to governors as sent by him for the punishment of evildoers and the praise of those who do right." Writing to the Colossians, Paul said: "Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt."

In response, the conservative Capstone Report website published an editorial claiming that "Baptist Pravda, err, Press" had demanded "submission to regime's lies."

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'Climate change' in pews: Can Anglicans adapt, after decades of declining numbers?

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'Climate change' in pews: Can Anglicans adapt, after decades of declining numbers?

Journalist Michael Kinsley famously added a twist to American politics when he redefined a "gaffe" as when "a politician tells the truth -- some obvious truth he isn't supposed to say."

As the Rev. Neil Elliot of the Anglican Church of Canada discovered, this term also applies to religious leaders.

After seeing 2018 General Synod reports, the denomination's research and statistics expert produced an analysis that included this: "Projections from our data indicate that there will be no members, attenders or givers in the Anglican Church of Canada by approximately 2040."

Reactions to his candor varied, to say the least.

"I think of it very much like … people's responses to climate change," said Elliot, updating his earlier remarks in a video posted by Global News in Canada.

Signs of church "climate" change? In the early 1960s, Anglican parishes in Canada had nearly 1.4 million members. But that 2018 report found 357,123 members, with an average Sunday attendance of 97,421. The church had 1,997 new members that year, while holding 9,074 burials or funerals.

Canada's national statistics agency reported that 10.4% of all Canadians were Anglicans in 1996, but that number fell to 3.8% in 2019.

People have one of three reactions when faced with these kinds of numbers. The first "is denial. People are saying, 'We're, we're … It's not happening,' " said Elliot, while counting the options on one hand. "Then there's people who say, 'We can stop it.' And then there's people who say, 'We can adapt.'

"The adapt language is much more rare and I'm only starting to hear it on the media in the last few months. … That's what I'm trying to get us to do within the Anglican church. It's, 'How do we adapt to it?' not, 'How do we stop it?' or … people burying their heads in the sand."

The decline is real and cannot be denied, said Elliot.