Todd: Hey, Paul, do your remember the Lifeway message board for Young Leaders?
Paul: That old thing? I’d almost forgotten!
Todd: Was that your first foray into any message board?
Paul: Not really. I’d been to the old forums you used to have on your church website and I’d spent a little time in the forums at theooze.com, but I’d never really gotten as involved in those as I did on the LifeWay forum.
Hey, isn’t that where we first ran into some guy named Marty Duren?
Todd: In fact it was. I even remember a bit of push back I gave Marty and you know, he pushed right back!
Paul: Marty? Pushy? Naw!
Todd: I know. Today most reading the Outpost have “sainted” dear old Marty and think some of the posts here have been too critical. Wow, should they go back and read some of those old posts.
You know. I remember Steve McCoy thought the un-moderated messages boards at Lifeway did not allow for good conversation. I think that is at least one of the things prompting the creation of Reformissionary. Or using Reformissionary as a place for better conversation anyway.
Paul: Right. I remember that early on I went by the handle “Semper Reformanda.” What was yours?
Todd: I think I went by Elihu. In fact, do you remember being considered “wonder twins” on those boards. Who was that who dubbed us so?
Paul: I think that was ol’ Travis Hilton. He went by THilton and at first I thought he might be related to Robert Tilton.
But you know, he called us wonder twins because we had both made a commitment early on not to be anonymous, but to own our thoughts and words.
Todd: That’s right. You know, it is easy to form opinions by simply reading words. I remember a call from Travis last year. We enjoyed a good conversation. We will not agree on everything, but it was a nice call and hopefully we both saw the other differently than before.
Thinking about Steve and Joe Thorn. I remember when they both determined to let others work for any kind of reform in the SBC … do you remember the funny pic of them pretending to be at the SBC in San Antonio?
Paul: Yeah. And it seems like the list of people feeling that same way keeps growing.
I’m pretty sympathetic to those thoughts myself these days.
Todd: That reminds me of a call from Marty. He had read some of the things I had written and assumed I had at least one foot out of the door.
The more we talked he understood that some of us were willing to be Southern Baptist for a variety of reasons but that did not mean the same kind of blind loyalty once offered when we thought the “Baptist” battle for the Bible was all that was in play.
I remember we talked and agreed to go to Greensboro. My first SBC since Dallas a number of years ago.
Paul: It was my first SBC ever.
Todd: We met lots of people for the first time there - Ed Stetzer, Marty, Steve, Joe, Ben Cole, David Phillips, you may remember others.
I had not seen Dr. Chapman since my last BWA meeting. We enjoyed a good conversation in the hallway.
Paul: Yeah. We also met Alan Cross, Kiki Cherry, Les Puryear and the now infamous Rick Garner.
Todd: What a tawdry band!
Paul: Indeed!
Todd: I cannot speak for everyone, but I sure hoped we would see a greater connection with what we said we believed with what we practiced as a denomination. It seems these kinds of feelings always get glossed in the talk that evangelism cures our problems … seemed to me like we would run the risk of evangelizing schizophrenic disciples … those who could articulate what we believe but let the pragmatic rule the day …
even it that meant bending what we believe to suit
Paul: That was my concern from the very beginning. I remember our friend Rick Davis once asking me what I thought of SBC politics. I told him that I thought the parties on both sides had often acted in a “pragmatic” way - to the hurt of the other. In fact, I remember telling Travis on that old LifeWay board that a pastor friend had publicly objected to the way Russell Dilday was fired at SWBTS and some of the conservative ground troops began publicly telling everyone he was a supporter of abortion and homosexuality.
When Travis herd that he told me that he knew who I was talking about and that that pastor had a change of heart.
I knew immediately that we were talking about two different people and that only proved to me that this was not an isolated incident.
But, as I told Rick, I believed a lot of that had gone on with both sides. However, the conservatives had won on a platform of the authority of the Bible and that made it that much harder for me to accept those “pragmatic” ways of winning.
I even sent a letter saying so to one of our seminary presidents. His reply was that I should just be glad that we weren’t living in the days of Luther where we burned the losers at the stake.
Todd: Now that is what I like to think about. Bet that same President who would refer to Luther would not consider sharing a German beer with him were he living today.
Paul: Ha! Not a chance!
Todd: We quote for convenience.
Any way, let’s get back to that Marty fellow. You know I read in recent comments how Marty, Micah and Darrin had been sorely missed here on the Outpost.
Paul: By the way…did you just mention alcohol? Yeah. I miss them here, too.
Todd: Yeah, that’s just one of the issues that comes to the fore in these debates when talking about what the Bible does or does not say. It is not about what one chooses that bothers me - abstention or moderation - it is the arguments made in the process … at any rate, that one has been beat to death without resolution … or at least consensus …
You know. Marty could well have been a PI. He could offer information and analysis that earned him the respect of folks in high places in SBC life. I bet his hit traffic from entities was incredible!
Paul: I think Marty was saying some things that had been thought in some high places for a while, but I think the people in those high places were…er….um….”reluctant” to say so publicly.
Todd: Yes, and that leads me to think about the different iterations of the Outpost. Early on it was a one man show. Marty wrote and people took note. He wrote as scathing reflections as any since that day, but you would think he never challenged a soul. Bless him.
Paul: Yeah. Well, I think the landscape of blogging in the SBC changed a lot from those early days. Keep in mind that there were/are some IMB trustees who think blogging is like internet pornography.
And I think that the polarization has only increased. Just look at some of the recent comments here. It’s nothing for people to question the salvation of others and blame every problem in the SBC on one camp or another.
It’s gotten quite tiring, I must admit.
Todd: I find myself in the same place when Marty first called. The issues are systemic. Some are even cultural but we will ignore those until they have well passed us by.
You know, Marty really believed some changes were coming. In fact, I think he believed he had helped forge a network that shared the private sentiments of many in leadership unwilling to risk their salaries to stand up and call for change … when they refused he said sayonara.
I mean to say clearly, I believe Marty had the pulse of leaders who would not risk themselves but did not mind Marty saying what they hoped someone would say. When the ball was handed to those who could do something was fumbled he became disillusioned feeling his effort much of a waste … washed his hands …
Paul: I can’t blame him. And I admit that my thoughts about change in the SBC are quite different than those early days.
My only hope was that we would do what we do above board and out in the open. Perhaps I quit believing that is a possibility.
There still seems to be a pretty strong sentiment that the end justifies the means.
Todd: I think many share that. That may be one reason for the significant turnover in those commenting here over the past year or so.
Paul: That old pragmatism at work.
So, Marty’s out. Darren’s out. Micah’s out. Ben’s out. What’s next? (or Who’s next?)
Todd: That is the question everyone is asking. Maybe before we run down that road it may be good to talk about this most recent iteration of the Outpost and how it came to be. What do you think?
Paul: That’d probably be good.
So, how did SBC Outpost 3.0 come about?
Todd: Well, Micah Fries stepped in to take the lead in The Outpost after Marty decided it was time to take that long ride into the sunset.
I think there may have been a dozen of us asked to contribute. Once the group was in, 2.0 began. It was short-lived. About like the current Web 2.0. I read an article the other day that 3.0 was under development.
At any rate, things went well for a brief time and some contributors offered posts that brought out harsh criticism. Most notably posts by Ben. The final blows came when behind the scenes some who had endorsed the Outpost, entity heads, received pressure to not only pull their support but to “throw us under the bus.”
Some posts were over the top. More about that later. One by one folks began to drop from the role of “contributor.”
Paul: yes…and it seems like I remember Micah had gotten to the point of being ready to shut it all down.
Todd: Yes, and some of us thought we might take a turn in format. Rather than a group of contributors we moved to collaboration. This concept is difficult for a bunch of Baptists who want to know who is in charge, who is running the show, so we can blame someone.
The new sciences have pushed leadership in new ways. For example, Ori Brafman’s “The Starfish and the Spider” calls for a hybrid form of leadership. Something like leader/leaderless structure. There is still someone who takes the role of leader but then in turn shares the leadership with the group so the given project becomes the leader if you will.
3.0 was intended to demonstrate collaboration. A place where one person was not the gatekeeper for all but rather a place where all could express their take on any issue or matter related to the SBC.
No one liked this.
Paul: Well…and I think some still don’t understand how the Outpost couldn’t have someone sitting at the top. I think that’s why so many thought/think that Ben has been running the Outpost.
Todd: Yes. In a celebrity culture where someone is always looking at the top it is difficult to “get” collaboration.
And, I mean celebrity culture even in the work we do.
Since Ben “left the building” let’s address that issue.
Paul: OK.
Todd: Have you seen the new Dark Night?
The newest installment of the Batman franchise movie?
Paul: No, I haven’t.
I think I read Marty say that only he and Jesus got tickets to that one.
Todd: Well, you must at some point. This will be misunderstood, but I think it illustrates the point.
the Joker and Batman have some incredible dialogues - and by the way they need to quit the Oscars if Ledge does not win one for his role.
There is this interesting interplay wherein the Joker deconstructs Batman. Pushed to the limits one wonders how Batman will react. Since you did not see it I will stop and jump to finish with another illustration.
You with me?
Paul: yes
Todd: ok - the late philosopher Emmanuel Levinas attempted to wrench God-talk from philosophy. His project include an understanding of the “Other/other” who comes to “challenge” our “being and meaning.” I think in this kind of analogy, Ben attempted to wrest “being and meaning” from the pragmatic ethic. He served as the “Other/other” who knew beyond what most of us knew to be the “being and meaning” of the SBC
did that make sense?
Paul: deep stuff, but I think I’m following you.
Todd: Ben often put it this way in the comments - those who complain are like addicts. They kept coming back to get their fix and in so doing each time they revealed a bit more of themselves while hoping to expose Ben as some maniacal, vindictive human being.
We could look at it this way. Ben deconstructed the SBC. This will not play well to those who dismiss deconstruction without understanding both its benefits and limitations
But, it was interesting to read those who did not like the “vitriol” they accused Ben of but theirs somehow was justified
Paul: Oh, I know exactly what you mean there.

To be continued…

Summers bring a variety of activities - vacation, youth camps, mission trips, children’s camps, vacation, other commitments. If you must de-link The Outpost because you have not had your fix then do as you must. Some of us have had a few things better to do for a while. You can expect a couple of posts over the next two weeks or so. They may give you some indication where The Outpost is headed.

In the mean time, we suggest you enjoy your vacation times, family, ministry and mission and by all means you may offer a prayer for the SBC, its entities, missionaries, pastors, staff, administration - yes, and those with whom you disagree.

The facts, however, are these: For four years, I have planned an exit from Southern Baptist life, beginning with my pursuit of a doctoral degree at Baylor University. That exit was forestalled because of one phonecall — received past midnight from Alabama pastor C.B. Scott — that urged me to fight the good fight stirring up on account of a famously recalcitrant mission board trustee and his opposition to exclusionary policies governing the appointment of international missionaries. Once I listened to C.B., who made me promise not to allow the Baptist brouhaha to distract me from my academic pursuits, I launched a counter-offensive that has become, to at least some degree, notorious.

The objective was simple. Neutralize the influence of fundamentalist, landmarkist, legalistic theologies that trace their most recent incarnation to Paige Patterson and his graciously submissive wife, Dorothy. Patterson is a politically shrewd and quasi-cannibalistic junkyard dog. His wife is one part old lace and two parts arsenic. An invitation to high tea with the pair can result in a trusteeship or a tombstone.

To oppose Paige Patterson’s fundamentalist agenda requires stamina of the sort that few men possess, especially pastors. The fact that most Southern Baptist pastors cannot extend their pastoral tenures beyond 18 months makes you immediately aware that the convention — which is comprised of pastors — does not have the intestinal fortitude to fight anything for very long.

It also requires what Kierkegaard referred to as the temporary suspension of the ethical. To stick a hog, you have to get in the mud. You have to be willing to expose, confront, accuse, and substantiate. You have to be willing to say publicly what most Southern Baptists in-the-know say privately. You have to stop whispering and start shouting.

I suppose that C.B. knew that my days in Southern Baptist life were short-lived. Unlike many of my contemporaries, I do not desire the pastoral office. I have served Southern Baptist churches because of gifting — both natural and spiritual — as well as a love of teaching. The churches where I have served will unanimously attest to both my teaching gifts and my pastoral deficiencies. I have evangelized because it was required of me. I have visited the sick and shut-ins because Holy Writ had thus enjoined me. I have blessed the baked beans, consecrated the babies, immersed the repentant, and interred the dead. At times there has been a sense that this work of mine was a holy calling. At others, I have felt something like a medicine man full of pious, rote incantations and mesmerizing magic.

What I do know — the thing that is truly in my belly — is politics. Not only in the practical art but in the abstract theory. As I have said on numerous occasions, the only difference between a Baptist pastor and a politician is in the intellectual honesty of the politician. He will announce unashamedly the nature of his craft. A Baptist pastor, on the other hand, must pretend as if he gets his every order straight from the Almighty.

A few weeks hence I will conclude a chapter of my life. I will resume the ecclesial retreat I commenced four years ago, assured that some of my goals in denominational life have been met while others remain a distant dream. I leave, however, with a few observations, reservations, and predictions about the Southern Baptist Convention and the personalities who have driven her to the precipice of irrelevance. To enumerate all of these would require more time than I am willing to commit, though I will offer a few.

1. The SBC will not look the same ten years from now. This is immediately obvious on the surface. Paige Patterson is not immortal, and the mongrel theologians he has sired through thirty years of doctrinal inbreeding will not be able to carry the movement he energized once his has received his eternal reward. Already the brightest of his protégés are distancing themselves from his ever-narrowing agenda. Already, Al Mohler’s influence is surpassing the Pattersons’. The climbing enrollment at Southern Seminary is perhaps the greatest example of Patterson’s diminished ability to raise up his denominational “green berets.” When Southwestern’s convention booths have had motorcycles and camouflage netting and other silly gimicks, Southern’s looks respectable, academic, and appealing. The students have noticed the difference, and have moved toward Louisville in increasing number.

2. My book, which is near completion, will not become required reading at any Southern Baptist seminary, but it will be read more thoroughly than most required texts. The working title, “A Hill on Which To Kill,” might not survive editorial oversight, and I will take the next several months to rework and reword a few sections myself.

3. The IMB policies regarding tongues and baptism will not be repealed by the trustees, but it won’t matter. They will be applied with the same consistency and intensity that Southern Baptist seminaries apply their policies that all students abstain from the consumption of alcoholic beverages. I have found humorous the numbers of Southwestern students alone that have met me off campus to discuss the controversy, or give me some tip, or ask some question over a pint of lager or other illegal libation. Like Nicodemus in the night, they have escaped the Pharisaical cloister to experience the freedom of the gospel. Were I to release their names — which I will not — the enrollment of the Fort Worth seminary might suffer an even greater downturn. That is, of course, if the president was consistent. Most of us know by now, however, that he is not.

4. Johnny Hunt will have as much success bringing “younger pastors” into the SBC as Andy Stanley has bringing “older pastors” to his Catalyst conference. The convention is experiencing an antetransjordanian cull, if you will. The generation that left Egypt will die off, indeed they must die off before something better can come to fruition.

5. The cry among many Southern Baptists for a less restrictive statement of faith is rooted in a hunger for a more apostolic Christianity. Look for new churches to adopt the ancient creeds as their confessional framework rather than those of late 20th century genesis.

When I landed in Indianapolis for the annual meeting this past June, I was overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia. For a decade and four I have attended the Southern Baptist Convention. I’ve mastered the convention polity. I’ve memorized the bylaws. I’ve drafted many more motions and resolutions than those reflected in the annual reports. It has been a fun learning experience, but I have determined that the SBC is better without me, and I without it.

I’ve experienced things that few men my age experience. I’ve received an education that seminary cannot provide. And through it all I’ve seen Baptists at their worst and their best. When a man reaches 30 years of age, he has choices to make. I have determined that I will not be among the many 50 year old pastors who look back on their lives and wish they’d taken a different course. Today, when young men and women tell me they feel “called” to the ministry, I grieve. And then I remember that most seminarians do not see what I’ve seen, hear what I’ve heard, or smell what I’ve smelled inside the rotten gut of denominational power.

Disenchanted? Perhaps. Disinterested? Almost. Disengaged? Absolutely.

And with this, I bid you adieu. No more blogging at SBCOutpost. No more resolutions or motions or messenger cards. No more vituperative indictments of bloated bureaucrats or zealous advocacy for denominational reform. A mind, they say, is a terrible thing to waste.

I will not waste mine any longer. At least I hope I won’t.

Will the Trustees choose to continue to divide conservative Southern Baptists around tertiary doctrines? Frank Page and Johnny Hunt oppose the guidelines that have created no small furor and plenty of ink, type or computer screen material.

We know that four entity heads oppose them, including Jerry Rankin. We lived without them for a century. They became an issue in the recent election in the BP questionairre. Those who supported the policies were roundly defeated. This is dividing the convention.

Paul Chitwood has called for unity and that is what we need. But that will not come as long as these divisive guidelines are in place. We know, Trustees, that many of you genuinely believe these things. We are not asking you to change your beliefs. We are asking you to return to the BFM as the standard. Listen to Jerry Rankin, Morris Chapman, Frank Page and Johnny Hunt … do it for unity around missions.

General Observations

The 2008 annual session of the Southern Baptist Convention proved to be the anticlimactic end to the very long roller coaster ride I have enjoyed for more than a decade. When I first started attending the convention as a young assistant to Judge Paul Pressler – who graciously paid my way for a number of years – I was overwhelmed by the gathering of thousands of Baptists to conduct what seemed to me to be the most important business on the planet. Now, having just entered my 33rd year, I am bored with Baptists.

In 1995, I would not miss one session. I sat in the Georgia Dome and listened to every sermon preached in the Pastor’s Conference. I took notes during the Executive Committee Report. I studied the bylaws of the convention, and carefully memorized parliamentary procedure. I even sat through the WMU report, and the American Bible Society.

In those early years, I met men like Miles Seaborn, Carroll Karkalits, Ted Tedder, and Russell Kaemmerling. I sat at lunch with Rudy Hernandez and Olin Collins and Neal Griffin. Many of those men who shaped the direction of the conservative movement are now retired, or dead, or out of the ministry for one reason or another. I was privileged to see the SBC in the halcyon days of resurgent euphoria. I listened to the stories about liberals and how the convention was “saved.” I memorized names and dates, places and events. At times, I felt like I was born ten years too late. Like I had come of age only to see the dust of conflict settle.

This year, the convention was a dud. As everyone settles into the fact that the conservative shift didn’t produce the beatific vision it was prophesied to have accomplished, only a few stalwarts remain who voluntarily drink the old elixir of Pattersonian pathos. Like the stubby, ruddy architect who led the takeover, the convention has become grayer, slower, and fatter.

In the next few paragraphs, I will offer my observations – biased and brazen as they are – in what shall be my final post-convention analysis. In a subsequent post entitled “Exit Strategy” I will ruminate publicly on my four year plan that has now matured to fruition. Until then, here are my thoughts:

Pastors Conference

I have not attended an entire session of the SBC Pastor’s Conference for several years. The canned voices, the scripted applause lines, the hubris of it all became as distasteful to me as my blogging has become to so many others. It’s the same song, sung over and over again. We need revival. We need to be relevant. We need to preach expository sermons. We need this or that. While the SBC Pastor’s Conference used to be a campaign tour bus for conservative candidates, it is now something of a broken down jalopy along the denominational highway. This year I did not hear a single sermon. I did not join in a single anthem. I did not enter the hall whatsoever during the gathering. And I feel quite good about it.

I’m sure there were motivational moments or tear-jerking tales. I’m sure some people were moved or challenged or changed. My skepticism has not carried me to a point where I doubt the power of the proclaimed Word to accomplish a sovereign purpose. For those who find the Pastor’s Conference a blessing, I’m thankful. For the growing numbers who find it superfluous, expensive, and predictable, I echo their benign disinterest.

Presidential Election

The election of the Southern Baptist Convention president was bizarre. Six candidates, only three of whom had any hope of winning, vied for the coveted position of leading a tired and waning flock of convention-goers for the next two years. Never again will the convention president represent “16 Million Southern Baptists.” The two party system of “liberals” and “fundamentalists” has given way to a Balkanized convention where Calvinists, and Revivalists, and Progressives, and Bureaucrats, and Bloggers, and Anti-bloggers, and every other competing interest under the sun has entrenched themselves on a few issues with very little prospect of intramural collaboration.

I had very different thoughts about the candidates. Johnny Hunt is a passionate man who often comes across as angry. Frank Cox looks the presidential part, though his regional appeal never seemed enough to turn out the vote. Avery Willis is too old to fire up the base of “missional leaders” who might have otherwise been a factor in the election. Wiley Drake should have taken his 2nd Vice Presidency and been satisfied. Les Puryear had a good issue – increased participation of small churches – though he himself knew the uphill battle before him. Bill Wagner’s odd campaign for the presidency, and his students in the trenches distributing fliers with the intensity of SoulForce, never stood a chance.

For me, honestly, I had no idea how I would vote until I heard the nomination speeches. My pastor and friend, Wade Burleson, had determined to nominate Bill Wagner for reasons that I understood but were insufficient to garner my support. Wade is an articulate speaker, and there is little doubt that most of the 400 votes that Wager received owe more to Burleson’s nomination than to Wagner’s popular appeal.

Wiley’s nominator – whoever he was – did a superb job making a speech for a candidate who hadn’t a chance. It was clear and careful, highlighting Wiley’s accomplishments and capturing some of his hopes for the SBC. Listening to it I thought it was something like hearing a nomination speech for Ron Paul and the Republican National Convention.

Dwight McKissic would have been a great nominator for Les Puryear, and I regret that my friend’s health kept him from attending the SBC. Dwight’s associate, Alan Stoddard, is a prince of a man with a huge heart and a genuine enthusiasm for reaching lost souls. When I see men like him at the convention, my single prayer is that they get out as fast as possible before the denominational nonsense creates the inevitable disillusionment. Churches who have staff members like Alan Stoddard should forbid them from attending denominational meetings or reading denominational news. They are too great an asset to the Kingdom to get entangled with convention business.

John Marshall is a great leader in Missouri, and his balanced and peaceable demeanor has done as much as anything else to retrieve the Missouri Baptist Convention from the partisan precipice toward which Roger Moran et al have been driving it. His nomination of Avery Willis was good, but not great. He stared into the camera like he was reading a teleprompter. The speech came off as memorized, which it probably was. In truth, John Marshall would have been a better candidate and Avery a better nominator. But hindsight is 20/20. Look for Avery Willis to fade from the scene, and John Marshall to rise as a new generation of leaders in the SBC.

Junior Hill, the much-beloved evangelist, was looking gaunt and pale when he assayed the platform to offer one of the most half-hearted nomination speeches I’ve ever heard in my life. Basically, Hill suffered a moment of divided loyalty between Frank Cox and Johnny Hunt. Rather than trumpet the virtues of his candidate with unqualified endorsement, Hill threw Frank Cox under the bus. Many of us were disappointed that Junior Hill took the course he did, though no person doubts that he sincerely struggled through a personal commitment to two friends running for the same convention office. Frank Cox should have known the dilemma Hill faced, and offered him an exit in order to solicit a more passionate and unambiguous nominator in Hill’s place.

And then there is Ted Traylor’s puckered-face nomination of Johnny Hunt. I felt that Traylor’s speech contained too many potentially deceptive “truths” about Hunt’s qualification for office. Not only did Traylor slip in an intentionally unclear reference to Hunt’s Cooperative Program support, he also fudged the number of pastors who have been mentored by Hunt. If Hunt has mentored more than 25,000 pastors through his Timothy Barnabas conferences, then he has single handedly trained more than half the pastors in the SBC. I know of some pastors who have attended these conferences four or five times, which means that they have probably been counted four or five times. This is not to undermine the degree to which Hunt has taken a personal interest in the ministries of young pastors, but only to highlight the degree to which his nomination provides another example of Southern Baptists inability to present accurate numbers when denominational grandstanding.

I think what bothered me most about Johnny Hunt’s candidacy is that I have known of his personal assurance to Frank Cox of both his unambiguous decision not to run this year, and of his personal support. I’m always willing to let a man change his mind, but it seems to me that honor was at stake. I had opportunities before Indianapolis to raise questions about Hunt’s nomination. There were some who wanted me to profile the excerpts from Spending God’s Money that chronicle Johnny Hunt’s receipt of $92,000 from Bob Reccord’s slush fund at NAMB. Questions about his honorary doctorates were raised. I refused, however, to crank up the machine to oppose Hunt’s candidacy – if for no other reason that I wasn’t certain myself whether or not I would vote for him.

After the convention, I was called by several reporters for a comment about Hunt’s election. My comment was the same to them all: Johnny Hunt is a passionate catalyst and a hero to many Southern Baptist pastors. When interviewed by a major national newspaper about Hunt’s suspect academic credentials, I did my part to kill the story. “No Southern Baptists in Indianapolis thought we were voting for a theologian or a college professor when we voted for Johnny Hunt. We know he’s not a doctor. But we also know he’s not a fraud.”

I’m not enthusiastic about Johnny Hunt’s presidency. But I don’t think anybody is enthusiastic about very much in the SBC these days. If Hunt uses his passionate, energetic hortatory gifts to mobilize Southern Baptists toward ends more eternally significant than teetotaling campaigns, Calvinist-mongering, Emergent church paranoia, or Republican initiatives, then it will be a good thing. If he gives in to a fundamentalist impulse, Southern Baptists will reap more of what they have sown.

I distinctly remember sitting with Paige Patterson a few years ago outside his Wake Forest office and talking about the line up of future SBC presidential contenders. James Merritt would succeed him, and then probably Jack Graham and Johnny Hunt. He never foresaw Bobby Welch, and he certainly overlooked Frank Page. When I asked Paige what he thought about Johnny Hunt’s ability to lead the convention, he told me that he would do well but would need “theological supervision.” “The problem with so many of Hunt’s generation is that they came through the seminaries during liberal administrations,” Paige explained. Their hearts were hot for conservatism, but their heads lacked the theological grounding to understand all the issues. They were nursed on Bultmann and Barth, rather than Broadus and Boyce, so to speak. They were faithful lieutenants, but they seldom made good generals.

Whatever the case, time will tell whether or not Johnny Hunt will eschew the fundamentalist fringe and get the Southern Baptist Convention back in the hands of the churches rather than charismatic megachurch pastors and overpaid bureaucratic clowns.

One final thought about the election of SBC President. The day cannot hasten soon enough that John Sullivan is no longer a platform personality with so immense a responsibility as clock-watcher and shoulder-patter. Frank Page did a remarkable job as convention president. He could have done us one additional favor by refusing to appoint Sullivan to the team of parliamentarians.

To be continued . . .

While the party of the establishment tried to collect itself in the wake of the unsettling victory, precious news time was wasted waiting for Rogers’ first press conference. I took the initiative and began querying Pressler and Dorothy Patterson about arranging a private interview for me with Rogers. By this point I had observed that Dorothy Patterson was much, much more than “the little woman behind the scenes” as some try erroneously to portray the wives of SBC conservative leaders. While Smith College grad Nancy Pressler functioned as the epitome of well-heeled wife who hostessed in the skybox with the grace and skills of an uppercrust Houston Junior Leaguer, Dorothy Patterson was more of a behind-the-scenes, can-do, take-charge, nuts-and-bolts political strategist. One of my most perplexing memories of the 1979 SBC meeting occurred on Wednesday morning when Paige Patterson slept late — much to the disdain of just about everyone in the skybox — while Dorothy Patterson seemed, in the absence of her husband, to literally function as an equal partner with Pressler.

June 11, 2008

Convention Finale: Does the SBC Have a Future?

For an explanation of this photo, please await the convention summary.

The convention was in a stalemate regarding the Cooperative Program as the Executive Committee squared off with megachurch pastors over the 10% clause. Entity heads were lining up behind candidates and issuing endorsements, while other entity heads publicly criticized the appearance of partisanship by convention employees. Bloggers were gripping the convention by the throat, and we had done our part to severely cripple the other nominees with an endless barrage of posts about things that really didn’t matter but served a politically useful purpose. “Younger leaders” were engaged, whoever they were.

Johnny Hunt, a man whose Ross Perot-like candidacy (he’s in . . . he’s out . . . he’s back in) did his own part to help elect Frank Page by offering a weak nomination speech for Ronnie Floyd. Similarly, Calvin Whitman nominated Jerry Sutton of Two Rivers in Nashville with a speech that was as forgettable as the nominator himself.

(To prove my point, I’ve asked a number of 2008 convention messengers if they remember who nominated Jerry Sutton. Nobody. Not one person in ten could recall.)

And then there was Forrest Pollock, whose speech to nominate Frank Page was delivered so flawlessly and with such finesse as to make it immediately apparent to most in the convention hall that Page was going to be elected by a considerable margin. We could literally hear the chad popping in greater numbers as Frank Page’s name was read by Registration Secretary Jim Wells.

Had the Lord not taken him home to a greater reward, it is very likely that Forrest Pollock would have become president of the convention within two years. His great service to the Southern Baptist Convention will be remembered by all of us who were there. It is to him, as much as any human factor, that Page’s presidency is owed.

Today I sit looking back over the last two years of convention life, and realize what a terrible burden leading us must have been for Frank Page. He’s had to deal with sniping from his alma mater, Southwestern Seminary. He’s had to deal with rumor mongering about his theological commitments. He’s had to deal with the fallout of moral compromise in the convention, and he’s had the frustration of having to present a positive appeal to an international audience predisposed to think of Southern Baptists as backwards, bickering, culture crusaders with neither the sincerity nor the sanctity of the Christ whose ambassador they would purport to be.

At every turn Frank Page has been gracious. He has been courteous to his critics and loyal to his friends. He’s had the courage to tell the IMB trustees that the infamous policies were foolish, and he’s had the audacity to confront bloggers — even those who supported him — about their attitudes and rancorous strife.

To be honest, he has set the bar high for convention president. In an election year of historic proportion, he has maintained a neutrality becoming his office. He’s been prophetic with the priestly class when they’ve needed their ears pinned back. He’s been compassionate when the circumstance necessitated a tender hand. He has, in my estimation, both admonished the unruly and encouraged the fainthearted.

His wife hasn’t marched into convention hotels and demanded a certain kind of table linen or tea service or floral arrangement. We’ve hardly known she was there at all. Quietly, in his shadow, she has been a true First Lady. She alone has heard his prayers at night. She alone has seen his tears and held his hand and walked beside him all the way.

As I look over the appointments that have come thus far from Frank Page’s tenure, I see balance. He committed to leading all Southern Baptists, and he has brought us all along. One is hard pressed to find anybody with anything unflattering to say about Frank Page’s two terms at the SBC helm.

Thirty years after the Conservative Resurgence began, you can still find messengers who were there in Houston on that historic day when Adrian Rogers was elected to the position that started the processes of change in a convention that was staring death in the face. They get a little teary eyed when they recount the stories of that year, and to this day they think of Adrian Rogers as the face and the voice of the movement he launched.

Thirty years from now, if any of us are still Southern Baptists, I imagine we will look back to Greensboro 2006 and Frank Page with a similarly fond nostalgia. He was our candidate. He became our president. He remains the standard by which we will judge his successors.

When he was elected, Frank Page told us that he was conservative but he wasn’t angry about it. Through two years of incredible pressure and conflict, he’s as solidly conservative as he was the day he was elected. And he’s still not angry. Not at the people who opposed him — either secretly or publicly. And not at those of us who by our support gave him more headaches than he ever deserved.

When I was in seminary, a group of friends and I spent an evening typecasting our own version of the SBC using the characters of the Wizard of Oz.  There was the heartless and increasingly immobile tin man who wishes to cut down every tree of the forest in a massive programme of anti-global warming deforestation, the dimwitted and overstuffed scarecrow, and the cowardly lion who preens with verdant robes and picks fights he cannot finish and fancies himself a courageous king of the jungle.

The role of Dorothy was a tossup between the lead character and another prominent part of the broom-riding kind.  The munchkins, of course, are all those happy little Southern Baptists who are card carrying members of the lollipop guild and whose loyalty to the Great and Powerful Wizard is quite pitiable.  If they only knew the wizard was a charlatan equipped with little smoke and few mirrors they would probably defect.  Nobody, however, seems willing to break their little hearts and tell them the truth.

But all of that aside, I have come to realize that the Southern Baptist Convention is much like the Wizard of Oz and his Emerald City not because of the similarities to be found between the fictional characters and the real life personalities and caricatures that keep most of us snickering under our breath, but because the metanarrative is frighteningly familiar.

The whole thing is an illusion.  It is an institution that exists in isolation from reality.  Behind the curtain of the Southern Baptist Zion is nothing of substance.  But for a few days every June thousands of people enter the technicolor world of Oz and pretend as if what they are doing will actually make a difference back in Kansas.  For fifteen annual sessions now, I have journeyed to the land myself thinking that Oz was reality.  For fourteen of those sessions I think I was hallucinating in a field of poppies.

Which gets me to the main point of my hesitance about the longterm viability of this thing we call the Southern Baptist Convention, at least in its present form.  At the end of the tale, Dorothy and Toto go back to Kansas.  They know they cannot stay in Oz forever.  It was fun while it lasted, but there are chores to be done and family to be loved back in the wheat fields.

On the other hand, you have the professionals who live in Oz.  These are the men who lead our convention week to week, day to day.  Most of them don’t live in reality anymore.  They live in this fairy tale where the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission shapes events in Washington D.C.  They enjoy a world where theological education at a Southern Baptist seminary actually equips you for leadership in the local church.  They have gotten fat — literally and metaphorically — on the feasts and festivals of Cooperative Program supported luxuries.

The rest of us go home to reality.  But they just keep living the dream.

Which is why they are utterly impotent to do anything to address the malaise that now has swept over the convention.  And it’s why more and more of Southern Baptists are choosing to stay in Kansas with each passing year.