At the beginning of this year, I had precisely nineteen hours of college credit to my name. I spent an entire year living on campus at John Brown University in 1991. I was enrolled full-time at a community college for one semester before that. And, I took a night class at yet another school after that. And for all that, I managed to accumulate an astounding nineteen hours of credit. I was some student, wasn’t I?

Well, as of today, I have thirty-seven hours. As was previously mentioned, I’m enrolled in Liberty University’s Distance Learning Program. And this time, I’m not messing around. Today is the last day of my second eight-week term, and I completed three classes in each of them. There was a one-week break in between the terms, which unfortunately came the week before my daughter’s spring break.

At this rate, I should be able to complete my bachelor’s degree in about two years. I’m easing up in the summer, but only slightly. I’m enrolling in two classes in each of the two eight-week terms. With the convention (with family vacation attached) coming up, I didn’t want to attempt too much. Also, instead of a one-week break in between terms, the summer has a two-week overlap. So for the fortnight ending July 4, I’ll actually be taking four classes at once. I’m looking forward to that.

The class that I finished last in the spring term was an introductory philosophy class. The textbook was titled Questions that Matter, and though it runs to over 550 pages (not including the glossary and index), I actually managed to find relatively few. The class finished with a section on philosophy of religion, which I found to be most interesting, especially the philosophical arguments for the existence of God. But after considering philosophical approaches to theodicy, as well as arguments teleological, ontological and moral, I must say that I found yesterday, while aimlessly surfing the web during some down time, one of the best extra-biblical proofs I’ve yet run across that there is, in fact, a God, and that He loves us very, very much. I therefore end this post by inviting you to view this convincing proof by clicking here.

I feel confident in asserting that no one who has been involved in the various blogs relating to the politics of the Southern Baptist Convention over the last two years is without an opinion about California Director of Missions and IMB trustee Dr. Jerry Corbaley.

Those opinions are surely widely varied, and in most cases determined by the “side of the aisle” on which one has chosen to sit. Fortunately, my opinion was formed before I recognized that their was, in fact, an aisle. And so I call him a friend, and one for whom I am grateful to God.

Today, my left-coast friend has provided some wisdom for all of us involved in these discussions. As he explains in the post, comments are not open, but I commend his words to all of us who would take part in these conversations:

Both Sides of the Aisle

For some time now, I have chosen not to comment on Grace and Truth to You. While I am standing by that decision, today’s post there demands a response. It is time that someone pointed out the absolute ridiculousness that is being promoted, and the personal animosity that makes the very name of the blog ring quite hollow.

The offense begins at the title. Apparently the distastefulness of “Baptist Identity and Conversational Terrorism” has been recognized as gratuitous, as it has been softened since its original posting (not the first time hateful words have been changed at that blog). But the damage of the title is done; most who follow these things will have seen the original.

The irony of an accusation of “conversational terrorism” coming from this blogger is stunning in its richness. And the fact that it was directed at a respected theologian who happens to be a personal friend has obligated me to respond. I have not been asked by the one offended to respond on his behalf, and knowing what I know of his nature, he would likely prefer that it be left alone. But I cannot, in good conscience, allow this attack on my friend to stand unanswered.

There are not really words available to describe adequately the level of hubris inherent in this silly indictment. Just one example will suffice to support this claim, though the fact is as obvious as a rising and full moon to those who have been closely following this mess.

I have been among many bloggers sharply criticized during the resignation-shortened tenure of the writer of Grace and Truth to You as a trustee of the International Mission Board for their support of men such as Tom Hatley, John Floyd, and even Jerry Corbaley. Due to a disagreement with a pair of policies, this blogger launched an all-out public offensive in the blogosphere, belittling and ridiculing these men, accusing them of being mindless puppets and blood-thirsty warriors, and questioning their honesty and theological integrity. Because of his habitual lack of specificity when making these attacks, they were rightly seen as an affront to the entire board of trustees, a concept he never seemed to grasp.

And yet, there were other trustees on the board who disagreed with these policies, some of them quite strongly. At least one, Dr. Allen McWhite of South Carolina, wrote letters to every trustee and even to all of the presidents of our seminaries in an attempt to gain support for his opposition. Yet he continually showed respect for the board as a whole, and as a result he continues to serve as an effective member of that body.

But because of his outrageous manner in opposing the policies, the writer of Grace and Truth to You faced removal from the board, forced a change in standards of trustee conduct, was censured by the full board, and was ultimately forced to resign. And anyone asserting that it was because of his disagreement with the policies is either mistaken or is intentionally misleading. No, the reason for the utter failure of his tenure on the International Mission Board can be summed up in two words, ironically coupled by his own hand this day: “conversational terrorism.”

Presumably I, along with many of my friends, would be lumped together within the group that this outrageous post calls the “Baptist Identity initiative,” which is labeled as a “fringe movement.” This claim is laughable in its absurdity. An objective look at the leftward cant of the theology that has been put forward at Grace and Truth to You just in recent days, as well as the viciousness of many of the regular commenters in attacking any who would disagree with their views, can leave little doubt as to who is on the fringe of the Southern Baptist Convention.

The writer of Grace and Truth to You is not a theological liberal. A theological liberal is one who denies the central tenets of the Christian faith, including the inerrancy and integrity of the Bible (including, obviously, the first eleven chapters of Genesis). That is not applicable to this blog owner. But the time is long past when anyone can claim with any credibility that he is a theological conservative.

Among the many benefits to the Southern Baptist Convention of the legacy of the late Dr. Adrian Rogers are his precise definitions of the theological identifiers “conservative,” “liberal,” and “moderate.” A moderate, according to Dr. Rogers, is one who “maintains the position of accommodating the liberal view.” Pointing out how this applies to the blogger in question would be tantamount to directing attention to the sun at noon on a cloudless day.

I’m quite content to be labeled as one who stands unashamedly for “Baptist identity,” for I am persuaded that “Baptist identity” is, or at least ought to be, nothing more or less than biblical identity. Were I to find another model closer to the polity and practice I see in the New Testament, I would quickly abandon my “Baptist identity” in favor of it. Apparently, there is intended in that label some level of shame, judging by the pejorative way in which it is often employed at Grace and Truth to You. This in itself is telling. Nonetheless, I am happy to own it, and even happier that the owner of Grace and Truth to You has chosen so publicly to oppose it.

[ht: David Worley]

Peter Lumpkins has posted this morning that tragedy has visited the life of fellow blogger Debbie Kaufman, as her daughter’s husband was killed in an accident.

Please pray that the God of all comfort will reveal Himself powerfully to Mrs. Kaufman and her family in the days to come.

I was planning on spending some time this morning writing a post about last night’s missionary appointment service, but that plan has changed. When I turned on my computer this morning, I found an email from Sharon Bain. Sharon is my 5-year-old daughter’s Sunday school teacher, and she also serves the Frisco Baptist Association as our secretary. She was one of four church members who went with my wife and me to Sunnyvale, and she had attached the following to her email, which I post here with her permission. Enjoy:

While showering early this morning before coming to work I realized something major. I was the unofficial chaperone on the trip to Sunnyvale, Texas to see and hear my first ever Missionary Appointment Service. I was the elder in the van. The van should have made me feel younger since it rattled as much as the yellow bird that took me to school a few years ago. I sat on the back seat again, defying anyone who thought I could not crawl over the wheel hump and through the narrow space to get there. Actually, there was room for three of us to have seats to ourselves and I knew it would be good to stretch out on the way home. Stretching out was good but the van noise and lack of insulation in the flooring and asphalt on the highway did not allow any real sleep. Pastor’s children were spending the night with substitute grandparents so I hollered out, “Are we there yet?” frequently so he and his wife would not miss them too much.

Sunnyvale First Baptist is a very beautiful church. It has everything you would need to make a bunch of Southern Baptists happy; plenty of clean restrooms, comfortable seating, visual aids and because of its arrangement, there were lots of back row seats. A friend of our pastor saved us seats on row nine in the center aisle (that never has happened to me at a Paul McCartney concert). There was a huge choir loft hanging above the lower band level. Flags of the nations where we have missionaries were hung or stood all around the pulpit area. Just pondering that was an awesome thing. Then the choir came in, dressed in their everyday clothes; not the robes you might have expected. They looked and sounded radiant and it was contagious for everyone, even those with voices like mine, not that I heard any like mine. Our musically gifted pastor and his wife were rising on their toes as the choir and congregation sang the same beautiful songs we sing in our little church. But, there was a difference. Everyone was there for a wonderful purpose and that was to witness the appointment and dedication of these 92 special people. They marched in later as couples and singles. They were young and they were old. They were of various colors, heights and weights and walks of life. Some knew as little children that this day would come, and others testified that it had been an emotional struggle for one or both involved. When they introduced themselves in a brief few words some of them cried and some of us did, also. It was a very touching event to witness.

Throughout the evening the choir of 75-100 and we praised God for all that was happening. There were lifted hands sprinkled throughout, as well as many over hearts at special moments individually felt.

We were welcomed by Sunnyvale’s pastor, Charles Wilson, challenged by SBC President Frank Page, updated by Gordon Fort, reported to by John Floyd and charged by IMB president Jerry Rankin. I am not just name-dropping; they were there. An IMB trustee, from Texas of course, led us in a prayer of dedication for the new missionaries. When the missionary altar call was issued, those who went forward were…children and youth. At least, that is who I saw. And, isn’t that the way we should go for God, as little children? I thought of my Sunday School class and wondered if there was a missionary among them. We must pray for that now. That may be what my part is. I will look at them even closer Sunday morning. They all seem to have the loving hearts for it. Maybe someday I will go to a commissioning service for one of them. Would that I could.

After a closing prayer by Bob Dean, Executive Director of Dallas Baptist Association, we loaded back up on the TBC war wagon. I am thankful for our clean, efficient machine and would have been even more thankful 40 years ago when I was in high school. I will not mention that pastor follows less than three car lengths behind other vehicles or a few other things. He got us there and back with lots of technical help and I appreciated him very much.

He asked us what we thought of the service. I could not put all my thoughts together then. I had to wait till this morning in the shower.

Thank you for taking us, Bro. Wes. We love and appreciate you, even if that dude from California does not think so.

Sharon

Tonight I will be taking a group of my church members to a commissioning service for new IMB missionaries. This service is being held at the First Baptist Church in Sunnyvale, Texas, a suburb on the east side of the DFW metroplex.

I’ve been closely following events in our convention, and specifically related to the IMB, for more than two years now. There have been great friendships built, there have been challenging and difficult moments, and there have been some great times as well. Without question, one of the greatest of these great times was when I was able to attend a commissioning service in Albuquerque, New Mexico in May of 2006. There can not be many experiences more humbling and challenging than to hear from those who are leaving all that they know in order to take the Gospel to the ends of the earth, simply because God said, “Go!”

I’m looking forward to hearing these testimonies, and to hearing a challenging message from Dr. Jerry Rankin. And I’m excited about being able to share these experiences with some of the people of my church this evening.

It is fitting that the team first coached by the inventor of the game won college basketball’s top prize last night. Perhaps those who would allege that I have exhibited Landmark tendencies would not be surprised to know that I am most appreciative of the unbroken line of succession from basketball’s inventor through the previous coach, and therefore somewhat dismayed that an Oklahoma Aggie, with no connection to this proud heritage, is now coaching in Lawrence, pleased though I may be at his success.

Dr. James Naismith invented the game in 1891, and came to Lawrence seven years later, where he was a professor and the school’s first basketball coach. Ironically, he is the only coach in school history with a losing record (55-60). While in Lawrence, Naismith was a mentor to Phogg Allen. The facility where the Jayhawks play their home games is Phogg Allen Fieldhouse, and the playing surface is the Naismith Court.

Allen mentored Dick Harp, who coached the Jayhawks from Allen’s retirement in 1956 until 1964, when Ted Owens took over. Owens is a weak link in this succession, having served only one year as an assistant under Harp.

But Phogg Allen isn’t called the “Father of Basketball Coaching” for nothing, and the Naismith succession was fully restored in 1983. Ted Owens retired, and Larry Brown was hired. Brown had played for legendary North Carolina coach Dean Smith, who had been coached by (guess who!) Phogg Allen. Brown led the Jayhawks to their last NCAA championship in 1988. Brown was then succeeded by another Smith protege, Roy Williams, who left in 2003 for the head job at North Carolina. This led to the hiring of the aforementioned usurping Cowboy.

But the real reason I’m a Jayhawks fan has nothing to do with this “trail of feathers” that I’ve traced here. It’s much more basic than all that. I lived in southeastern Kansas for eight years, and graduated from high school there in 1989. In the summer of 1988, I was chosen for Boys’ State, and spent a week on the campus in Lawrence in the afterglow of that championship run. Once, during some free time, several of us found a way to sneak in to Allen Fieldhouse. There was no wood floor in place; only bare concrete. There was a portable goal, however, and a few basketballs lying around, so I got to make a fool of myself missing shots in this hallowed hall. I was a Jayhawk fan for life.

This most recent college football season was unusual, in that we Jayhawk fans actually had something to cheer for. But basketball has the history, and even though I’m really not much of a fan of the game, I will always be a fan of the Jayhawks.

Congratulations to Coach Self and the Jayhawks on a fantastic season and an amazing comeback to claim the title.

The following devotional was written by my stepmother* for a publication at her church, a Christian Reformed Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

The LORD said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

- 1 Kings 19:11-13a (NIV)

This Elijah story was the focus of our youth group’s spiritual growth retreat this spring. It’s a great story—one that’s a little unexpected. We’re quite used to hearing Old Testament Scripture speak of our great and powerful God, the almighty God of Israel. In this passage though, God was not in the loud, spectacular events of nature. When he came to find Elijah, he was in the “gentle whisper.”

As we are on our Emmaus walk between two of the most powerful acts of God in the New Testament– Christ’s resurrection and his ascension–let’s not miss the quiet “whisper” times as well. The Bible’s stories of the appearances of Jesus between these two great events seem to indicate both the spectacular (the catch of fish) and the quieter times: a shared meal, a conversation while walking along the road.

In all the times of our lives–the dramatic events of an illness, death or crisis, or the mundane, everyday “who needs to be where at what time” routine–God speaks to us. Sometimes he speaks loudly and gets our attention. Other times, he whispers.

The only way to hear a whisper, of course, is to be quiet. To quiet our souls in a time of Bible reading, meditation or prayer. To be still enough to hear a bird or watch a sunset or marvel at the stars. To watch a child sleep and to imagine all that God has in mind for him. To sit quietly with a friend who needs not all the answers to her questions, just the presence of someone who cares and is listening alongside of her. Maybe it’s even as simple as a walk without a cell phone or an iPod.

In the midst of the busyness of my life, I’m trying to be more open to hearing God in the gentle breeze.
Can you hear the whisper?

Linda Kenney

“Let us be silent that we may hear the whisper of God”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

*Though I suspect that they’re all, in fact, made of straw, we’ve been hearing lately about “some Southern Baptists” who believe that there is never any context in which a woman may teach a man anything, ever. If you’re one of these (I suspect mythical) Southern Baptists, please discontinue reading.

I’ve just upgraded to WordPress 2.5, and this post exists to see if the PodPress plugin works with the new platform. This video, however, is reflective of the high-minded, serious dialog that has always characterized this blog. Enjoy!

 

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