sermons, writings, etc

Poses By Mark Fleming A Chapter in Exiled: Voices of the Southern Baptist Convention Holy War Edited by Carl L. Kell My wife and I were born and raised Catholic, so becoming members of College Park Baptist Church five years ago represented a big change for us. A whole new world. One of the first discoveries I made was we hadn’t joined any Baptist church, but a Baptist church that’s “an ‘interesting’ mix of enthusiastic, compassionate, and fun folks”—to quote our own PR—a “Progressive, Diverse, Ecumenical” body. All true, but what about the “Baptist” part? What about our roots? Sounds like we meet in a warehouse thrown up on the outskirts of town, not in an established church soon to celebrate its centennial. Sounds like we’re some kind of fly-by-night outfit, with no affiliation, no heritage. I would joke about McChurches that used such hip language to promote themselves; now we’re one of them. To separate ourselves from the Southern Baptist Convention and what it represents—retrogression, white male chauvinism, dogmatic pronouncements—it seems we’ve had to perform some unusual contortions. I was a beginner deacon when College Park dissolved its SBC ties, and I can tell you that as a church we were more than ready. At the time, though, I didn’t fully understand what we were giving up. Yes, allegiance to those ridiculous dictums (no women head pastors, wives submit to your husbands, blah, blah, blah, etc.). But I never really considered the “history and tradition” factor. Until recently. Not long ago we had Dan, Mildred and Linda over as part of a church program that randomly mingles members to share a meal. That evening I learned Dan and Mildred have belonged to College Park longer than I’ve been alive—42 years! They raised their children and who raised their children in the church. What a legacy! I want my two children to experience the same. On the other hand, Linda came to College Park after her small Baptist church, on the edge explosive growth, instead mired in internal dispute. Nobody there seemed to know how to move forward. I think what her former church lacked was the foundation—built of believers with a shared past—to support a leap into the future. Over pumpkin pie and coffee with these folks, I finally understood the cost of divorcing the SBC. We had to sacrifice a slice of our church history, of our identity. We wouldn’t go back—no way!—but the way forward is a little less certain as we struggle to redefine ourselves in light of the fundamentalist takeover. And we’ve had to strike some interesting poses in the process.