KOH2RVA: Day 67

Can you bring heaven to earth by making a motion at a Baptist meeting?

Well, no, apparently not.

I went to the microphone yesterday during the miscellaneous business portion of the BGAV annual meeting to ask if we could amend a recent decision made by the Executive Committee of the Virginia Baptist Mission Board. You see, the BGAV—the Baptist General Association of Virginia—meets only once each year, and when we are not in session the Executive Committee of the VBMB makes our decisions for us. Recently the Executive Committee decided to sever ties with Richmond’s Ginter Park Baptist Church for ordaining an openly gay man.

I know, I know…that’s way outside the “norm” for Baptist churches. But when I stood to make my motion I simply asked if we could appoint a study committee to look into the matter and bring back a report at next year’s annual meeting. I said, “I don’t want to open the floor for a discussion of how we all feel about homosexuality, because we would be here for the rest of the week, maybe the rest of the year. And I don’t want to talk about whether this church had the right to do what it did. Of course it did. Baptist churches are autonomous. No, what’s at stake here is the question of whether or not we can maintain fellowship with a church that has taken such action.”

And that got things started.

Part of what I was hoping for was that our annual meeting would not devolve into a shouting match about homosexuality, and I think my motion accomplished that. While most of the people who spoke to the motion were passionate, there was no shouting, and we mostly stayed on the subject. The subject was whether or not a church that had done such a thing could stay in the BGAV “family.” In the end, the answer was no. My motion was defeated 426-164.

The decision of the Executive Committee stands.

I learned only later that the BGAV, in its 190-year history, has never before severed ties with a church, not for welcoming blacks, not for ordaining women. And while I’m sure the Bible was quoted in those instances, and Scriptural reasons given for why such churches could not remain in the family, they did, and maybe that’s only because our sense of family is strong.

I talked with someone at this meeting who has a gay daughter. She said that the news came as a shock to her when she first heard it, but that there was never any thought of kicking her out of the family. “She’s my daughter!” she said, as if that explained everything.

For many people it does; our sense of family is strong. I’ve told my own daughters there is nothing they can do or say—nothing—that will keep me from loving them. But after yesterday I’m wondering how some of our sons and daughters will feel about their place in the BGAV family, and it’s one of the reasons I made my motion: if we’ve never kicked a church out for any reason, don’t you think we could take some time to consider this one? And even if we did end up in the same place, can’t heaven come to earth through respectful talking and listening?

I wonder.

You tell ’em, Reggie!

I enjoy going to preaching conferences, but the kind of preaching conference I enjoy the most is the kind where someone tells me that the way I’m doing it already is the right way. 

I had that same pleasurable rush of confirmation at the annual meeting of the Baptist General Association of Virginia this week.  Reggie McNeal was the featured speaker, and as he talked about the missional church I heard him saying some of the same things I’ve been saying for the last several years, but in a way that was funny and disarming.  You’d be laughing out loud about something he said and then suddenly, umph, he’d slip the truth between your ribs like a knife blade.

Let me share with you some of those pointed truths:

  • Church is not “it” but “us.”
  • Our job is to bless the world, just as God told Abraham (“In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” Genesis 12:3).
  • We used to think it didn’t count unless we clubbed it, dragged it across the finish line, and threw it into a church pew.  We’ve got to relax about this thing—just bless people.
  • Leaders tend to look at what they’re working on. In John 4 Jesus was looking at the fields that were “white unto harvest.”  What about you?  Are you looking at the church or are you looking at the world?
  • Go to Wal-Mart and watch people for an hour.  Say, “Lord, help me see what you see.”
  • The church does not have a mission, the mission has a church.
  • We are all on a mission trip.
  • We are not members, we are missionaries.
  • If I can’t bring church to my neighbors, my neighbors are not going to get it.  Put your focus on people, not church.
  • Use your building to bless the community.
  • Get involved in your local schools.
  • As the bride of Christ, can we allow what captures his heart to capture ours?  Can we allow what breaks his heart to break ours?
  • The missional church follows the path of brokenness.  Whatever breaks your heart is how God wants to use you.

Click HERE for a video that will give you a good taste of what I heard at BGAV.  It’s funny, mind-boggling, and (umph!) true.

Preaching Into Thin Air

On Tuesday night I preached at the annual meeting of the Baptist General Association of Virginia.  This is a gathering of a thousand or so “messengers” who come from Baptist churches across the Commonwealth to do the business of the Association and to enjoy times of worship and fellowship.  It was a huge honor to be asked to preach and I tried to take it seriously.  I worked on the sermon for weeks, wrote out a full manuscript, and rehearsed it until I was fairly sure the words were coming out of me and not just off the page.  I polished my shoes, put on a suit, knotted my tie, and shoved a silk handkerchief into my breast pocket.  I was ready, or at least I thought I was. 

I climbed the steps and walked across the stage to the pulpit, opened my Bible, arranged my notes, and then looked out at the crowd.  But I couldn’t see the crowd.  I could only see the bright lights shining in my eyes.  And that’s when I remembered why I don’t like preaching at events like this.

I started in anyway, preaching the sermon as I had rehearsed it, but I couldn’t tell if the congregation was “getting it” or not.  I couldn’t see their faces.  Every once in a while I would hear a ripple of laughter move across the darkened room and once I heard a loud “Amen!” off to my right, but as I struggled through the sermon I realized how much I usually depend on congregational feedback. 

That raised eyebrow in the third pew lets me know that whatever I just said was a little surprising; those crossed arms off to my right may be a sign that things are getting too personal; that warm smile up in the balcony is a clue that whatever I’m saying is going down well; and that look of confusion to my left is a clue that I might need to say that last line again—slowly.  I “read” those faces, I depend on that feedback, and when I don’t get it the act of communication becomes uncomfortably one-sided.

It’s a good reminder that preaching—at its simplest—is one person sharing good news with others.  There’s an intimacy about it that is hindered by bright lights and a big stage.  Some of the best preaching I’ve done has been one-on-one, or in a group of five or six people, or in a tiny country church.  The worst preaching I’ve ever done—in my opinion—was when I read a sermon off the teleprompter in a television studio in Chicago.  Preaching ceases to be preaching in such circumstances and becomes something else:

Performance. 

I’m glad I had the opportunity to deliver a sermon at the BGAV.  As I said, it was a huge honor.  But I’m looking forward to being back in my regular pulpit this Sunday, talking to people I love about something I love to talk about. 

That’s not performing; that’s preaching.