Why I Went

I’ve just come home from a two-day trustee meeting in Charlotte, North Carolina. You may be wondering why I went.

The timing wasn’t perfect: our deacons were having a special called meeting on Tuesday night where they were discussing the church’s relationship to the Southern Baptist Convention. Someone made a motion at that meeting to sever any remaining ties with the SBC and the motion carried without opposition. That sounds like an important meeting. Seems like I should have been there.

And yet.

And then on Wednesday night there was a quarterly business meeting at which we heard reports from our church clerk and our treasurer and then celebrated the new members who have joined us in the past three months, people who need to know just how special they are. That sounds like an important meeting. Seems like I should have been there.

And yet.

I was at a meeting of the Board of Trustees of Union Presbyterian Seminary, on their Charlotte campus, for the better part of two days. It took five hours to drive down there and five hours to drive back. Part of the meeting took place today, on Thursday, my usual day off. Why would I do it? Why would I make that meeting a priority over all those other meetings and over my day off?

Because it matters.

One of these days I will retire as Pastor of Richmond’s First Baptist Church, and when I do the church will start looking for its next pastor. They will want someone who is winsome, warm, and capable, or, as I often joke “a gifted preacher, a skilled administrator, a Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.” But even if they can’t find that person they will want someone who is seminary-trained, and in order to do that you need a seminary.

We used to have a seminary. We had the Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond and it was a great school. It had an outstanding faculty and produced some incredibly competent graduates. I was on the Board of Trustees and there is at least one person who thinks I helped the seminary survive as long as it did. I don’t know about that, but I do know BTSR eventually had to close its doors and when it did Virginia Baptists had precious few options: they could go to Liberty University in Lynchburg or online (not a good choice), they could go to the John Leland Center in Northern Virginia (good school but 2-6 hours away from Richmond), or they could go to the Baptist House of Studies at Duke Divinity School (a very good school, but in North Carolina).

That’s when I began talking with Brian Blount, President of Union Presbyterian Seminary, about starting a Baptist House of Studies here, in Richmond, at a well-endowed school that has been around since 1812. Brian grew up Baptist and became Presbyterian. I grew up Presbyterian and became Baptist. There was a lot of mutual understanding and respect on both sides of the conversation and with the enthusiastic support of Terry Maples and the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship of Virginia it happened: we started the Baptist House of Studies at Union Presbyterian Seminary. FBC member Susan Blanchard (wife of Steve Blanchard) has become our Director. Currently 34 students are enrolled in the Baptist House. In many ways it has become the successor institution to BTSR.

So, why did I go to a trustee meeting in Charlotte when there were so many important things happening here? Because it was important. Because some day First Baptist will be looking for a new pastor, and they will want someone who is seminary-trained. But between now and then there will be dozens of other churches in Virginia looking for pastors, educators, youth ministers, and children’s workers; there will be hospitals looking for chaplains; faith-based non-profits looking for directors; major corporations looking for chief ethicists; and I want Virginia Baptists to train for those roles and get those jobs.

If you don’t know much about Union Presbyterian Seminary, click on the link and take a look. I think you’ll be impressed. I may be biased: my grandfather, Walter Gray Somerville, graduated from Union in 1920.

Fan, Friend, or Follower?

We spent some time in staff meeting yesterday thinking about membership. For example: do we still need it? Do people still join things? Or is there a better way to engage in 2024?

Allison Collier and I had talked recently about “fans, friends, and followers,” meaning 1) those people who watch our worship services on TV; 2) those who want to be more than fans, who like to get our mailings and sometimes even support our mission; and 3) those who are full-fledged followers of Jesus Christ and fully engaged in the life of the church. Do you know which one you are, or would it help to have some guidelines?

During COVID, when none of us could come to church, I began to wonder: “Do you have to be present to be a member?” I thought about what I expect from the people in that most-committed category and came up with “five expectations of membership.” Here’s how they show up on our website:

Relationship with God
This is where it begins. Email Allison Collier, our associate pastor, if you want to find out where you are on your spiritual journey and how we can help you take the next step. You may already be further along than you think, or you may need someone to point the way.

Partnership in our Mission
Our mission is: “to bring the Kingdom of Heaven to Richmond, Virginia—and beyond.” There are plenty of opportunities to do that here in our city, but if you don’t live in the Richmond area you can be part of the “beyond.” You can look around you for anything that doesn’t look like heaven, and then roll up your sleeves and bring heaven to earth right where you are.

Participation in Worship
There are lots of ways to do this. If you live in the Richmond area you can worship with us in person or on television. If you have Internet access you can worship wherever you are, online. You can also start or join an FBC Microchurch (email Matthew Hensley, associate pastor, to learn more).

Membership in a Small Group
Small groups are where relationship happens, either in person or online. You need to have at least one place in life where you can say, “It’s been a hard week,” and know that someone will care. Small Group registration is open two times a year, in January and August. Email Allison Collier to be notified.

Support of our Ministries
You can do this in several ways: you can give your time as a volunteer, you can share your talent as a ministry leader, and you can give your resources to help us meet the needs of the church and the needs of others. We couldn’t do what we do without your generous support. Click HERE to learn more.

You may not be ready for all of that at this point. You might settle for two out of five, or even one out of five. That’s OK. We’re happy for whatever engagement you can afford. But I want to make it clear that this is not about being a fan, or friend, or follower of Richmond’s First Baptist Church; it’s about being a fan, a friend, or a follower of Jesus Christ. First Baptist is simply one way to do that.

My favorite way of thinking about the Church (with a capital “C”) is to picture Jesus walking through the countryside, with a big group of people following along behind him. Some are right up there where he is, listening to everything he says and hanging on every word. Others are farther back in the group, talking with each other about all the things they have seen and heard. Still others have wandered off the path to smell the flowers, or stretched out in the sunshine to take a nap, but they’ll catch up. What we are all trying to do is follow Jesus. He’s what this movement is all about. And if some of us want to walk together along the way and call ourselves “Richmond’s First Baptist Church,” that’s all right with him.

If you’d like to walk with us as we follow Jesus, you would be more than welcome. I’ve been here for nearly sixteen years now, and I’ve found that First Baptist Church is a great place to do that.

Good Meeting!

Deacons’ meetings have been a little tense at First Baptist recently. We’ve had to talk about our welcome statement on the church website and our relationship with the Southern Baptist Convention. Sometimes you just have to talk about hard things. But last night we got to talk about good things, and it was a welcome relief for all of us, both those in the room and those participating by Zoom.

Let me give you the highlights:

• Paul Kreckman gave the financial report, and it was surprisingly good! Not only did we exceed our 2023 budget by $120,000 but by the end of February we had collected $445,909, which exceeded our goal of $427,667 by $18,242. By the same point in 2023 we had collected only $413,290. That’s something to celebrate!
• Shearer Pettigrew is the captain of our Generosity Team and told the story of a couple who used to come to our early service before the Pandemic and then moved out of state, but couldn’t escape the pastoral care of Robert Thompson who would call from time to time just to check on them. Recently Robert got a call from the wife who told him that her husband had died, and she’d like to do something in his memory. She had seen the news about our Gathering Spaces renovations and wondered if there was something there she could pay for. Robert handed her off to Donna Earley, who suggested that the new reception desk was going to cost around $20,000. The woman said, “I could do that.” But then she asked Donna how much she was trying to raise, total. Donna said she’d love to raise $500,000. The woman said, “I could do that.” The wire transfer came in the next day!
• I got to make some closing remarks at the end of the meeting and was pleased to report that our attendance on Easter Sunday was 883, which is the best we’ve had since the Pandemic. Easter attendance in 2022 was 782, 2023 was 796, so this was a huge increase and an encouraging marker in our gradual comeback since 2020.

I stood there thinking, “We exceeded our budget in 2023. Our giving is up in 2024. Someone just gave us $500,000. Easter attendance was nearly a hundred more people than last year. This is wonderful, but I can’t explain it.” And then I mumbled something about how we try to understand what’s happening when the numbers head in the right direction, and how we are no better than stockbrokers who pretend to know why the stock market goes up and down. Sometimes we try to give ourselves credit: it’s because of our stewardship efforts; it’s because of the good preaching and great music.

But this morning I remembered the parable of the farmer who goes out to sow seed in his field and then comes back and sits on the porch knowing that he can sow the seed but he cannot make it grow (Mark 4:26-29). That’s up to God. I know that we are doing plenty of good, hard, and creative work at First Baptist, but we can’t really take credit for increased giving or increased attendance. Paul knew that when he wrote: “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase” (1 Cor. 3:6).

At the end of last night’s meeting Daniel Hocutt led us in a Hebrew hymn of thanksgiving based on Psalm 133. Daniel did a great job leading but we didn’t follow very well. Hebrew is not our native language. Still, the message stayed with me as I made my way home. “How good and pleasant it is when brothers (and sisters) dwell together in unity.” Yes it is. And how good and pleasant it is when, for a change, attendance and giving figures move in the right direction.

Thanks be to God.

Being Baptist Means Freedom

I haven’t always been Baptist.

My father was a Presbyterian minister as was his father before him. But when I fell in love with a pretty Baptist girl and began to think about joining her church I asked the pastor to tell me what it meant to be Baptist. He said,

“Being Baptist means freedom.”

When I talk about this in our newcomers’ class I often refer to Walter Shurden’s little book, Four Fragile Freedoms, and then I talk about Bible freedom. I say, “Some churches don’t think the people in the pews should be reading the Bible; they think that should be left up to the priests. But we believe that with the help of the Holy Spirit every Baptist can read and interpret the Bible with understanding. We encourage it, and don’t think anyone should stand between a Baptist and her Bible.”

Next I talk about our individual freedom, sometimes referred to as soul competency. I say, “In some churches they baptize infants, but we Baptists like to wait until you are old enough to make up your own mind about Jesus. In a Baptist church nobody carries you down the aisle, and nobody pushes you. You make up your own mind.”

Next I talk about church freedom, often referred to as local church autonomy. I tell them, “Other churches have bishops and popes, but we don’t. We have a congregational form of government. We get to decide for ourselves what our mission and ministry will be, and we are free to ordain whomever we perceive to be gifted for ministry, male or female.” These days I might add that we can have female pastors if we choose, and no one can tell us otherwise.

Finally I talk about religious freedom, based on the principle of a free church in a free state. “This is how Baptists got their start,” I say. “They didn’t like the Church of England telling them what to do. So they came to this country seeking religious liberty and found it. They built a wall of separation between church and state. We Baptists are at our best when we don’t tell the government what to do, and don’t let it tell us what to do.” James Dunn (pictured above), who for years served as the Executive Director of the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty, put it another way. He said,

“Ain’t nobody but Jesus gonna tell me what to do!”

That spirit is still alive among the Baptists I know and love. As we continue to think about our Baptist identity let’s think about that–about what Jesus would tell us to do–and then let’s make sure that we are doing it.

Hope Deferred

I’m trying to “lead with love” this year, and I’m trying to do it by 1) preaching the gospel, 2) casting the vision, and 3) caring for the congregation.

But sometimes the congregation cares for me.

It happened on Wednesday. Christy, had posted on Facebook that our daughter, Catherine, would be having surgery that day to install two responsive neurostimulators in her brain as a way of helping her manage her epilepsy. Nearly 400 people had “liked” that post; half of them had commented in the most encouraging ways you can imagine. So, we didn’t feel like we were going to the hospital alone on Wednesday, even though it was just the three of us, driving through the still-dark streets of the city at 5:00 in the morning.

We got to VCU Medical Center and I parked the car while Christy and Catherine went up to check in on the fifth floor. When I got there they were calling Catherine back and after thirty minutes or so we were able to join her in pre-op, where she was dressed in a hospital gown with an IV already started. She was excited about the surgery. It had taken six years of testing and consulting with neurologists to get to this point. Her team thought it could result in a 60 percent reduction in seizures. And then they asked her if she had taken any medication of any kind in the last ten days.

“Just an antacid,” she said. “About four days ago.” That’s harmless, right? But they drew some blood anyway and took it down to the lab. “We just need to check,” they said. “Some of these antacids have aspirin in them. Aspirin is a blood thinner. If your blood is too thin we can’t do surgery.” That all sounded very unlikely to us, but after an hour-and-a-half of checking and re-checking they decided that they would need to postpone.

I don’t know how much emotional energy it takes to get ready for that kind of surgery, but it felt like each of us had carried a bucket full of it into the hospital that morning, and when we got that news the bottom dropped out of each bucket. We were stunned. Speechless. We gathered our things in slow motion and stumbled to the parking garage like zombies. We got home and fell into bed, trying to catch up on the sleep we had missed the night before, but for the rest of the day we were strangely disoriented, asking each other, “What just happened?

The news got out to the church, and one of our new members contacted Catherine immediately. She quoted Proverbs 13:12: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” And that named it: our hope had been deferred, and we were heartsick because of it. Others began to reach out as well, reassuring us of their love and prayers, offering whatever comfort they could.

And chocolate.

Twenty four hours after we got the bad news VCU called to tell us surgery had been rescheduled for April 26, and our heartsickness gave way to hope. That “tree of life” began to bud again. We could start making plans again. By the middle of the afternoon I was able to go to church in a suit, and get ready to play my part in the Maundy Thursday service. The people I saw in the hallway and around the tables in fellowship hall were all asking, “How’s Catherine?” and you could tell: they weren’t just being polite. They love that girl who sings in the choir every Sunday. They want her to be healthy, and happy, and whole.

That’s the kind of care we offer to our members all the time, but I’m not usually on the receiving end. It feels different on this end. It brings a lump to your throat. It fills you with gratitude for a church like this,

And makes you believe you can begin again.