On Discernment, Departures, and Boiling Pots

Dear First Baptist Family:

As you likely are aware by now, Pastor Eric has shared news of his departure at the end of July for First Baptist Church of Greensboro, North Carolina. I’m sure this news stirs a mix of emotions, as Eric has become a cherished part of this congregation and has led with grace, skill, and love.

During his tenure our young adult ministry has flourished, weekly worship has nourished our souls, and our work with Ministry Architects (with whom Eric first connected us last year) has brought First Baptist Church to a bright moment of new possibility.

Some of you have asked Eric, “Why now? With so much going on at FBC and every pot on full boil, why would you leave now?”

I believe that even asking this question is a good sign. Whenever a church is responding to the winds of the Spirit, the stove will always be full of boiling pots. An important piece of Eric’s leap of faith in this moment is trusting that if God is calling him to a new place of service, God certainly will provide for First Baptist Church.

As I said in the recent video conversation with Eric, discerning the call of God on our lives means walking a path between two essential questions: “What is right for me?” and “Where am I willing to be led?” Discernment requires that we ask them often and with open minds and hearts.

Eric has carefully walked this path of discernment, and I know this decision hasn't been easy. For those who haven't had a chance to read Eric's letter, I encourage you to do so.  He beautifully describes his process of discernment and the calling he has felt. This journey reminds us that God's plans can unfold in unexpected ways.

How do we discern the invitations of God?

What has it been like for you, as you’ve discerned God’s direction and calling throughout your life?

My own experience over nearly 40 years as a pastor is that the call of God rarely comes with trumpets and bright lights. It almost always dawns on me by inches and hunches and best guesses. Following the Spirit has felt less like cruising down a wide, well-lighted freeway and more like walking a labyrinth in the middle of the night with a birthday candle, praying for light enough to take the next step.

FBC family, as Eric travels to Greensboro this weekend let us pray for him. Let us allow ourselves to feel all that we need to feel over his leaving…and let us support him with FBC’s trademark love and encouragement.

Friends, as Jesus said, “You are the light of the world.” We have light to shine and love to share. So, let’s grieve as we need to grieve and feel what we need to feel. Then, let’s be about the business of shining and loving and following Christ into our good future.  

In the Great Love,

What Feeds Your Soul?

FBC family, after a year of anticipation and planning, it’s hard to believe my sabbatical is just five weeks away. I continue to pray that each of you will find your own souls refreshed in surprising ways this summer. 

As a reminder, this Sunday in worship we begin a 5-week series of messages—The Powerful Pause: Reclaiming Your Soul Through Sabbath—intended to help all of us become more attuned to the holy rhythms of advance and retreat…stepping in and stepping back…breathing out and breathing in. I hope you’ll join us.

It’s a joy to continue sharing with you some of the plans coming together for my upcoming renewal leave. A few weeks ago, I told of the planned pilgrimage to Iona in June—my first visit to that ancient, beautiful “thin place.” 

Today I want to share another favorite spot—a place so breathtakingly beautiful, I’ve returned three times in ten years and will travel there again in July, this time bringing my dear husband with me. 

Monastery of Christ in the Desert

Seventy-five miles north of Santa Fe is a high desert canyon so ancient and primordial, one expects to see pterodactyls flying overhead instead of hawks. Just off US route 84, a narrow, thirteen-mile dirt and gravel road follows the path of the Chama River. As you drive, you can see elk grazing beside the riverbank far below,and beavers as big as bear cubs dragging sticks from the woods to their dams in the deep-green water.

At the end of the dirt road, nestled at the foot of a towering mesa, is Monastery of Christ in the Desert, where some twenty-five Catholic monks from a dozen countriesseek to be in union with God and each other. In the way of Jesus and St. Benedict, the brothers share their lives with one another and with the guests who come to pray and work alongside them. Hospitality is deeply embedded in Benedictine practice.

The brothers (and guests) gather in the adobe chapel seven times a day for prayer, starting with Vigils at 4:00 a.m. and ending with Compline each evening at 7:30. They pray the book of Psalms each week, then start over again. And I do mean all the psalms—even the “cursing” ones that call for God’s wrath on the psalmist’s enemies. I can report that “Happy is the one who takes your babies and smashes them against the rocks” feels slightly less appalling when set to Gregorian Chant.

Along with prayer, the brothers work several hours each day and invite their guests to join them. During past visits I have pulled weeds in the cemetery, hauled big rocks in a wheelbarrow, and worked in the “holy hops” field. (The monks used to brew and sell their own beer, called Monk’s Ale. "Brewed with care and prayer” it said on the label.)

The silent beauty of the Chama River Canyon, the simple rhythm of worship and work at the monastery, and the generous hospitality of the Benedictine brothers makes Monastery of Christ in the Desert a “soul space” for me. 

What feeds your soul?

So, friends, where does your spirit come alive? 

Take time to name it for yourself.

Have you ventured there lately? If not, why not? 

You don’t have to flee to the desert, you know. As I write these words, a brilliant redbud tree outside our dining room window is aflame with color and beauty. From this “burning bush” God is waving at me.

The poet Mary Oliver celebrated her soul space in these beautiful words:

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It's simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

Friends, what makes your soul come alive? Name it. Nourish it. Your soul is worth the effort.

In the Great Love,

To Be a Pilgrim

FBC family, it’s my joy to begin sharing with you some of the plans coming together for my upcoming renewal leave. As I shared in last week’s Update, I am prayerful that each of you will find your own souls refreshed in surprising ways this summer.

Iona. 

The word itself evokes a deep breath, a hand to the heart, a turning inward. This small island, bathed in the ever-changing light of the Hebrides, is a place where the earth itself seems to hum with a deep, ancient song that resonates in the soul.  

 When the Irish monk Columba and his twelve companions stepped onto the rugged beauty of Iona in the 6thcentury, they weren't merely seeking refuge, but sowing seeds of a faith that would blossom for centuries to come. Widely known today as the birthplace of Christianity in Scotland, through the centuries Iona has attracted many thousands of pilgrims on their own spiritual journeys. 

 For me, this pilgrimage to Iona is not about ticking a box on a bucket list. It's about shedding the layers, the noise, the constant busyness that often defines life in Washington. It's about surrendering to the rhythm of the waves, the bleating of the sheep on the hillside, the slow, steady pace of my own breath.

 My heart’s intention for the time on Iona is to give myself fully to stillness, more silence, and deep listening for the voice of the Beloved in this place the Celts call “The Cathedral of earth, sea and sky.”

To Be a Pilgrim
Maybe you've never considered yourself the "pilgrimage type." Maybe visions of dusty roads, cold monasteries and obligatory silence don't exactly spark joy.

But a pilgrimage doesn't have to be some other-worldly adventure. In truth, every day offers an opportunity to be a pilgrim.

A quiet moment in your tiny, urban garden.

Holding a baby.

An unhurried walk in the park.

These can become doorways to a deeper presence. As you walk, letting the rhythm of your steps connect you to the earth—are you present?  Do you feel the cool grass beneath your feet, the warmth of the sun on your face? 

There is an inherent holiness in the ordinary: the miracle of a blade of grass pushing through the earth. The way sunlight dances on dust motes. The simple act of human connection. 

This is the essence of pilgrimage: not some grand escape, but a way of seeing the sacred woven into the fabric of our everyday lives.  To be a pilgrim is to slow down, pay attention, and open oneself to Divine Presence in this moment.

So, friends, where will your pilgrimage take you today? Maybe it's a stroll on the National Mall, a cup of tea savored in silence, or simply taking a few deep breaths before you walk into your next meeting. 

Wherever you are today, may you find yourself a pilgrim on this sacred journey and may you discover Holy whispers waiting to be heard.

 In the Great Love,

PS: In the spirit of Iona, I leave you with this timeless Gaelic blessing:

Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the gentle night to you.
Moon and stars pour their healing light on you.
Deep peace of Christ,
of Christ the light of the world to you.
Deep peace of Christ to you.

The Power of Pause

Dear FBC Family:

I am beyond grateful to you for partnering with me in my upcoming sabbatical, now just 10 weeks away. In almost 40 years of ministry this will be my second extended rest and renewal experience. Thank you.

Perhaps you are curious about this renewal leave (at least I hope so!). In his book, Planning Sabbaticals: A Guide for Congregations and Their Pastors, Robert Saler names some common congregational questions when a pastor and church are preparing for the pastor’s renewal leave. These are just a few:

Q: What is a pastoral sabbatical?

A: A pastoral sabbatical is any extended period in which the pastor steps away from the day-to-day practices of ministry to focus on their spiritual nourishment with an eye toward returning to the church with renewed energy for ministry.

Q: What’s the difference between a pastoral sabbatical and a vacation?

A: The difference between vacation and sabbatical has less to do with activities and more to do with intent. A vacation is intended for pure relaxation and refreshment. A sabbatical is designed with this question in mind: “What endeavors will renew the pastor’s heart and mind for future ministry in the congregation?” A vacation is recreation; a sabbatical is focused renewal.

Q: What takes place during a pastor’s renewal leave?

A: Sabbatical itineraries are as varied as the pastors and congregations that plan them. Possibilities are endless. A pastoral sabbatical can involve travel abroad to experience new cultures. It can be intensive time spent with loved ones since the demands of ministry are often placed upon the pastor’s whole family. It can involve deep study—of theology or the Bible or history or the lives of inspiring people. It can be a focused period of creating—art, photography, painting, writing. It can be a time spent regaining health—exercising more, sleeping more deeply, eating better. It can be a time of recommitting to spiritual practices. It can be pilgrimage. It can be serenity. The best sabbaticals will embrace a variety of activities, all with the goal of finding the rhythm that speaks to the pastor’s soul.

Q: Will the church be able to thrive without the Pastor?

A: This concern is often a compliment! When churches love and trust their pastors, it’s natural for them to feel some anxiety about what might happen when the pastor is away. Will attendance drop? Or giving? Who will handle all the tasks, known and unknown, that pastors attend to during the week? How will the remaining staff members be supported in ministry? Renewal periods can give congregations courage: courage to realize that their members have gifts—known and unknown! Sometimes during a pastor’s sabbatical, previously quiet members “come out of the woodwork” to take on new tasks.

Practically speaking, our Personnel Team and others are planning for some additional help for Pastor Eric, who wears so many hats at FBC. At the same time, I pray that many of you will find courage and joy to lean into some new task for the benefit of the church and your own spirit.

In the coming weeks I will share more about my own sabbatical plans, as well as plans for guest preachers, special worship services, and congregational care while I’m away.

On Sunday, April 14, I will begin a 5-week sermon series titled The Power of Pause: Reclaiming Your Soul through Sabbath, which will conclude on May 12, my final Sunday before stepping away. As much as I’m looking forward to my own renewal period, I am excited and prayerful that you, First Baptist Church, will find your souls refreshed in surprising ways this summer.

In the love of the One who leads us beside still waters and restores our souls,

Pastor Julie

Truth Beneath the Ashes

When it comes to my own dust, I tend toward one of two responses...

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More than a few years ago in Waco, Texas, a couple hundred of us gathered for a crack-of-dawn Ash Wednesday service led by a team of seminary students. All kinds of folk—university students, doctors, construction workers, grandparents—gathered at the shoreline of Lent, sleepy-eyed and somber. Fiddle music beckoned, “Come, ye sinners, poor and needy…”

No Ash Wednesday service would be complete without the imposition of ashes and pronouncement from Genesis: “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” We spilled into the aisles, ready to receive the mark of the cross, after which we would turn and mark the forehead of the person behind us. Just ahead of me in line stood a college student, a kind, cheerful young woman named Rae. We waited our turn, then Rae received the ashes and I stepped forward to receive mine from her. That’s when things went…um…slightly askew.

Rae pushed my bangs aside and smudged the sign of the cross on my forehead, according to plan. But as she drew her hand away, somehow, she got some of that inky schmeer on my nose. Horrified, she tried to wipe it off and, in the process, managed to spread the greasy mixture to my cheeks, my chin and, as best I can recall, one of my earlobes.

Finally there was nothing to do but laugh at this epic Ash Wednesday fail. I hugged poor, mortified Rae and returned to my seat, looking like a coal miner.

But as I sat there, blotting my face with a tissue, it occurred to me that what Rae had just done, quite unintentionally, was to paint a picture of how it really is with me.

When it comes to my own dust, I tend toward one of two responses: As with those ashes tucked conveniently beneath my bangs, either I try to cover up my sin so that no one will see—or I try to “pretty up” my sin to make it appear more respectable. I’m okay wearing my dust in a neatly drawn cross on my forehead, along with everyone else. In fact, when worn that way, the dust becomes an outward sign of my spirituality. But the greasy truth is this: my sin is all over me, in blotchy smears from head to toe.

The Apostle Paul also found himself covered in dust one day—sprawled face-down in the dirt of the Damascus Road, blind as a bat. But even as he lay there, picking grit from his teeth, a promise began to stir inside his heart and mind which, later, he would put into words for all of us: “So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus.”

That’s my story. I’m gratefully sticking to it.

Pastor Julie

An Unexpected Christmas Treasure

Shortly before Thanksgiving this year, Brenda Rozier Clark said to me, “I’m ready to let them go.” She arrived at my door holding the clergy robes and stoles worn by her husband, Paul, throughout decades of ministry. Paul Clark, a pastor, poet, leader and dreamer, passed away on April 3, 2020, from ALS. I wrote about Paul and shared one of his poems in a blog post There is Wonder in the World in December 2019, four months before he died.

Throughout this holy season, it has been my joy to wear Paul’s beautiful Advent stole around my shoulders like a hand of encouragement. I treasure my memories of Paul. And Brenda’s courageous journey through her own valley of grief has inspired me deeply. The faith, wisdom and strength of those who travel with us, and those who’ve gone before us, are gifts that nourish our lives. Thanks be to God for the body of Christ.

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If you are in town this weekend, I hope to see you at the Christmas Eve service this Sunday at 4:00 as we celebrate the holy moment when, as George Buttrick put it, “God climbed down the back stairs of heaven with a baby in [God’s] arms.”

In the Great Love,

Busyness and Love

I ran across this meditation on Love years ago in an Advent booklet. It’s a paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 13 and is applicable to all of us whose busyness during the Christmas season outpaces our commitment to love:

“If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows, strands of twinkling lights and shiny balls, but do not show love to my family, I’m just another decorator.

If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies, preparing gourmet meals and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime, but do not show love to my family, I’m just another cook.

If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love to my family, it profits me nothing.

If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes, attend a myriad of holiday parties and sing in the choir’s cantata, but do not focus on Christ, I have missed the point.

• Love stops the cooking to hug the child.

• Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the spouse.

• Love is kind, though harried and tired.

• Love doesn’t envy another’s home that has coordinated Christmas China and table linens.

• Love doesn’t yell at the kids to get out of the way but is thankful they are there to be in the way.

• Love doesn’t give only to those who are able to give in return but rejoices in giving to those who can’t.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

Video games will break, pearl necklaces will be lost, golf clubs will rust. But giving the gift of love will endure.”

P.S. One practical gift of love this very week would be your presence at the Blue Christmas Service of Consolation on Sunday. Even if you aren’t registering deep grief this Christmas, your presence just might strengthen and encourage someone whose heart is broken.

To Hear What Words Cannot Tell

Reinhold Niebuhr once said that at Christmas time he wanted to go to a church where they had as little sermon as possible, mostly just poetry, music and liturgy. “I want to hear what words cannot tell,” he said.

If it’s true that the Christmas story is best told by poets and musicians, then FBC’s 65th annual Christmas Candlelight Carols is one hour you won’t want to miss. This Sunday afternoon, the artists will lead us to Bethlehem. Through the music of organ and brass, choirs and congregation, Candlelight Carols invites the Spirit of God to speak to our souls in the deepest of places.

At the turn of the last century, the prima ballerina Pavlova, following a remarkable performance, was asked by an admiring fan, “What was the meaning? What were you trying to say?” Pavlova replied, “If I could have said it, I wouldn’t have danced it.”

Art expresses truth and beauty in ways that leave common speech standing around with its hands in its pockets. 

Albert Einstein wrote, "The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. [Those] to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, [are] as good as dead."

I look forward to being fully alive with you this Sunday.

Blessings,

The Meaning and Gift of Advent

Just three days from now we begin the great season of Advent. Because it's good from time to time to remind ourselves what we are up to and why, I want to offer again some words about the meaning of this season for us.

Advent means "the coming."  Advent is the season of expectation and longing, not for the birth of Christ, but for Christ’s promised return. Preparing ourselves and our world for that coming is the meaning of Advent.

And what a gift this season is to us! For one thing, if observed intentionally and with heart, Advent can keep us from ruining Christmas. America begins cranking up the Christmas machine a little earlier every year. Many of us probably had our tree decorated and Nat King Cole crooning The Christmas Song on Spotify before the leftover Thanksgiving turkey was cold in the fridge.

By contrast, Advent asks us to hang back a bit before flinging ourselves headlong into the big party. This holy season asks us to let ourselves feel some emptiness before rushing to stuff ourselves full. Advent wisely invites us to linger awhile in prayer and reflection and repentance before we celebrate.

And let’s be honest: for multi-tasking over-achieving Americans (and Washingtonians!) this comes hard. But what if we try, anyway? I love FBC’s annual practice of suspending all team and committee meetings during the month of December, creating more space for the Divine in our days and weeks.

I invite us to savor together the simple, quiet spirit of Advent. In the words of Paul to his friend, Titus: “…we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and our Savior, Jesus Christ.” (Titus 2:13)

Waiting with you…wide-eyed and on tiptoe.

Approaching the Ministry Architects Journey with a “Beginner’s Mind”

Dear FBC Family, we are just a month away from the official launch of our 18-month congregational coaching journey with Ministry Architects. This experience is inviting our congregation on a spiritual pilgrimage. In the months ahead, more than revised logistics and metrics, more than new procedures and processes, I pray our church will experience the God of new beginnings in surprising, transformational ways.

As you prepare for your own participation, I ask you to set aside any preconceived assumptions about what the process will involve and what the outcomes will be. It's harder than it sounds.

This very week, in three separate conversations, I heard a version of this observation: “First Baptist is well-acquainted with the church consultant process. We’ve done this many times before.”

They were right—FBC has partnered with congregational consultants in the past. I know of at least two: Alban Institute consultant Susan Nienaber in 2014-15 and Geoff Abbott & Mark Nishan in 2016-17. The work FBC did with these consultant-coaches was helpful in those seasons and circumstances.

Today we stand at the threshold of a new season coming at us with fresh opportunities and unique challenges.

The God of Daily Surprises

One of my favorite scenes in the Hebrew Bible involves the Prophet Jeremiah. In the third chapter of Lamentations, Jeremiah, known in Scripture as “the weeping prophet,” is crying out his lament to God (for good reasons I won’t elaborate on here). It’s just lament, lament, lament. 

But without warning, Jeremiah pauses. Raising his eyes, as if to remind himself of something precious and essential, he declares: “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: the faithful love of Yahweh never ends. God’s mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness.”

Friends, if God gives fresh grace daily, this serves as an invitation to you and me to receive fresh grace daily. To open ourselves to the merciful, holy surprises God delivers—every. single. morning.

“Beginner’s Mind”

Something to help us stay open to God’s fresh grace is a practice many refer to as “beginner’s mind”—choosing to approach the world with a beginner’s eyes.  Beginner’s mind involves an attitude of openness, eagerness and a conscious suspension of assumptions and preconceptions.

Whenever you and I are beginners at something—whether gardening, parenting, Pickleball, playing an instrument, preaching our first sermon, arguing our first case—we come at the experience with a sense of curiosity, humility, and even wonder. We have no idea what the outcome will be. There’s an innocence to our approach, a little like the way children engage the world.

“Expert Mind”

By the time we are deep into adulthood, we sometimes find ourselves trapped in what one might call “expert mind.” Expert mind brings with it a paradox: the more we know about a topic, the more likely we are to close our mind to further learning. If we’ve done something before, especially if we happen to do it for a living and are good at what we do, our expertise can block us from imagining new possibilities and outcomes.

Navigating the day in expert mind is a little like running around a track in a stadium. We know where we’re going. We’ve rehearsed every step. We see the finish line. Few surprises.

On the other hand, navigating the day with a beginner’s mind is like exploring the deep woods with a flashlight and compass. We’re not sure what lies ahead. We leave room for curiosity, wonder, and surprise.

Bring Your Flashlight and Compass

Very soon, FBC will partner with Ministry Architects to imagine new possibilities (and strengthen current practices). As your pastor, I ask you to engage this journey with a sense of anticipation, hope, and a beginner’s mind—flashlight and compass in hand. Who knows what the Spirit has in store for this beloved community?  

With great anticipation…

On Weddings and Regrets

Next weekend, Tim and I will be in Atlanta for the wedding of two friends. The ceremony is set for July 9th which, as it happens, will be Tim’s and my 35th wedding anniversary.

I love thinking about that bright, breezy day in 1988, when Tim and I stood at the altar of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church (pictured above) in Belvedere, California, just north of the Golden Gate Bridge. (I was serving as associate pastor of Nineteenth Avenue Baptist Church in San Francisco, but the sanctuary was too small for our ceremony.)

Tim and I met in 1983 as seminarians at Golden Gate Baptist Theological Seminary. I immediately loved the kind, unconventional way about him. Raised in Hawaii, Tim oozed an untroubled sense of Aloha. Our friendship deepened until it dawned on both of us that we were meant for each other. We became engaged at Yosemite and married eight months later.

Through the years, Tim and I have written poems for and about each other. I wrote this one for my beloved a few years ago and share it with you here. Yes, the title is ironic. ㋡

I Have Regrets

That first perm comes to mind,
followed by twenty years of frizz
and fuzz and photographs I'd like
to bury in the backyard.

And all those summers at the beach,
my pink, immortal skin glazed
with baby oil.
That was a mistake for sure.

Also, I should have listened to my
father who said beware of credit
cards and check the engine oil
now and then.

There are of course darker offenses:
     affirmations undeclared,
     encouragements withheld,
     angers unleashed.

Yes, I have regrets.

Not among them, however,
is the perfect afternoon by the bay
when the pastor said Do You?
and we said You Bet—though

how could we have imagined then
all that our vows would supply
and demand?
Even so, all these years later

as I consider this life we have made,
my prevailing regret
is that this blasted thesaurus
doesn’t contain a word

coming anywhere close
to the relief I feel in knowing
you and I belong
to each other.

The great Mary Oliver ends her poem, The Place I Want to Get Back To, with these words: “I live in the house near the corner, which I have named Gratitude.” What a coincidence—I live in the same house.

Three Baptist Parties

In the summer of 1989, Tim and I drove from San Francisco to Las Vegas in his 1976 Chevy Nova with the fancy “four-sixty” air conditioning (i.e., roll down all four windows and drive sixty miles per hour). Married less than a year, we made the trip from “Sodom” to “Gomorrah” to attend the annual meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention.

“Southern Baptists in New Orleans this week resembled fish in a now-smaller pool choosing (yet again) to toss more of their sibling fish onto the shore.  ”

Though Tim and I were brought up in Southern Baptist churches, by 1989 we knew the SBC wasn’t our community. We headed to Las Vegas that year to meet up with other like-hearted folk who were envisioning new possibilities for following Christ in the Baptist tradition—conversations from which the Alliance of Baptists and Cooperative Baptist Fellowship later grew.

Two memories stand out in my mind about that week in Las Vegas:

A 115-degree desert wind that made a person think twice about breathing.

And the presence of more polyester, pantyhose, and religious tracts than Las Vegas had seen in…well, possibly forever. Tim and I played a game from our 10th floor hotel balcony called “Spot the Baptists.” It wasn’t hard.

While the Baptists in Las Vegas that year may have resembled fish out of water, Southern Baptists in New Orleans this week resembled fish in a now-smaller pool choosing (yet again) to toss more of their sibling fish onto the shore. 

“Jesus... drew his circles wide with a love-colored crayon. ”

SBC messengers voted yesterday to uphold a decision to disfellowship two churches for appointing women to serve in pastoral roles, and to begin amending the constitution of the SBC to make it clear that churches “in friendly cooperation” with the SBC must not “affirm, appoint or employ a woman as a pastor of any kind.”

All this politics and posturing is as exhausting as it is alien to the way of Jesus, who drew his circles wide with a love-colored crayon. Do you recall the Epistle text from Sunday? “Let love be your only debt,” said Paul. “If you love others, you have done all that the Law demands…The commandments are summed up in this word: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

Three Baptist parties:

This week, I witnessed three Baptist parties. The first, in New Orleans, was a Shun Your Neighbor party.

The second, parading down the streets of our city last Saturday, was a Love Your Neighbor party.

And the third, the very next day in the fellowship hall of First Baptist Church, was a Feed Your Neighbor party.

Of the three parties, I’m just as happy to have missed the first and beyond grateful for the other two.   

In the Great Love,

P. S. If you want to read more about the Baptist hoopla this week, check out these fine articles at Baptist News Global (one of FBC’s missional partners).

• From Baylor professor Mandy McMichael, A 1984 Prediction Comes True for the SBC.

• From Meredith Stone, Executive Director of Baptist Women in Ministry (one of FBC’s missional partners): The Southern Baptist Convention is Wrong.

• And this lovely piece from FBCDC’s friend and former executive pastor, Charlie Fuller: Embracing the Slippery Slope.

You Have Made a Difference, Brother Jimmy

“I have one life and one chance to make it count for something . . . I'm free to choose what that something is, and the something I've chosen is my faith. Now, my faith goes beyond theology and religion and requires considerable work and effort. My faith demands — this is not optional — my faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to try to make a difference.”

These words by former President Jimmy Carter have been posted, tweeted and quoted countless times this week, following the announcement last weekend that he is entering home hospice care at the age of 98 in Plains, Georgia.   

Some of you in the First Baptist family had the pleasure of knowing Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter and their family when they were members of this congregation 45 years ago. During the 48 months of his term, President Carter participated in Sunday worship at First Baptist more than 70 times. Once a month, he taught Sunday School to FBC’s Couples Class.

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Photo caption: “Jimmy Carter attends a Habitat for Humanity home building site in the Ivy City neighborhood of Washington, DC October 4, 2010. [Photo by Larry Downing/Reuters]

Your friendship and Christian kinship meant a great deal to the Carters while they were in Washington. “You have made our lives normal lives,” President Carter said at the annual banquet of the Couples Class in October 1977. “You have given us stability in a position that is inherently sometimes unstable. A President of our country can be an isolated person. You have taken us in, and we are indebted to you. Thank you very much.”

President and Mrs. Carter have embodied the spirit and way of Christ, both in the spotlight of national and global affairs and in their tiny hometown, among the church family and lifelong friends who’ve known them best.

Carter’s work for peace, justice, equality, and democracy have flowed from the person he is at a core: a Christ follower. His life has been characterized by service, humility, integrity, honesty, simplicity, and compassion—especially for those for whom life is a daily struggle. He will be remembered as much for his commitment to building houses for the working poor as for having occupied the most powerful position in the world.

Jimmy Carter’s life and legacy remind me of those signal words from Psalm 90: “Teach us to number our days, that we may use wisely all the time we have.”  Well done, Brother Jimmy, you good and faithful servant.

In the Great Love,

What Are You Hoping For?

Throughout the first weeks of 2023, a question has been making the rounds at FBC. In the January meetings of all our leaders and teams—Faith Formation, Mission, Facilities Improvement, Give It Forward, Church Council and FBC staff—Pastor Eric and I asked our people to respond to the question: “What are you most hoping for in 2023 for First Baptist Church?”

We’ll share a summary of the responses this Sunday, at the congregational meeting. They reveal what I suspect many of you already know: that First Baptist Church is standing at a crossroads…at a moment of decision and action. We are not alone. Churches everywhere, especially after the pandemic, are facing the same choice: “Will we thrive, or will we continue on this path of slow decline?”

Spoiler alert: I am feeling enormous hope for FBC. And when I use the word “hope” I’m not talking about optimism. In fact, optimism can be the enemy of hope.

In his book, Good to Great, Jim Collins recalls a conversation he once had with Admiral James Stockdale who was held as a prisoner for nearly eight years in the infamous “Hanoi Hilton” prisoner-of-war camp during the height of the Viet Nam War.

Though Stockdale himself was tortured more than twenty times during his imprisonment, as the highest-ranking American officer in that prison, it became Stockdale’s goal to help as many fellow prisoners as possible survive their ordeal.

When Collins asked how he survived, Stockdale said: “I never lost faith in the end of the story. I never doubted not only that I would get out, but also that I would prevail in the end and turn the experience into the defining event of my life, which, in retrospect, I would not trade.”

Collins asked, “Who didn’t make it out?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Stockdale said. “The optimists.”

“The optimists,” he continued, “were the ones who said, ‘We’re going to be out by Christmas.’ And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they’d say, ‘We’re going to be out by Easter.’ And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart.”

This was Stockdale’s conclusion: “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.” (Jim Collins, Good to Great, p. 83-85)

I’ll say it again: I feel enormous hope for First Baptist Church. And…we are standing at a crossroads. Will you invest an hour after worship this Sunday and come to the congregational meeting? I believe it will be a first step toward new life for this church we love.

With love and great hope,

From Pastor Julie: Great Hope and a Reality Check for 2023

Dear FBC Family:

Happy New Year, FBC family, and thanks be to God for another year of Grace. I want to name some points of hopefulness and joy, then share a story as a reality check for all of us.

Great Hope for 2023

Here are just some of the reasons why I’m feeling much gratitude and hope as we begin 2023 together:

• FBC’s weekly worship invites heart, mind and soul encounters with God in a space shimmering with beauty, peace and prayer.

• Newcomers are present in worship, every Sunday, many under the age of 40.

• Yesterday, Pastor Eric and I listened as one of our young adults talked clearly and passionately (with PowerPoint!) about FBC’s significant strengths and challenges. Meeting with someone from Gen Z who cares so much about this church thrilled us to the core.

• Our mighty Mission Team met the first week in January and is contemplating meaningful connections for 2023 between FBC and our community.

• FBC has received $551,902 in pledges and contributions for the new community building through our Give It Forward capital campaign—a phenomenal accomplishment for a church of our size. We have met our campaign goal by 55% so far and have more than 25% of that goal in the bank.

• Beyond pledges, individuals inside and outside the church have made contributions to the Give It Forward campaign in honor or in memory of someone. (FBC has received several contributions in memory of Ed Fry and John Rhee.)

• Your gifts in support of FBC’s regular spending plan are holding pace with this time last year—in the middle of a capital campaign!

• FBC’s lay leadership are some of the most engaged, gifted people I’ve had the pleasure of serving with in all my years of ministry.

• FBC’s staff, while leaner than in 2022, remains focused, prayerful, creative, and excited about the road ahead of our church.

Friends, these are significant signs of strength and momentum, for which I am so very grateful.

‌

Reality Check for 2023: The River Has Moved

Along with feelings of encouragement we also must acknowledge the cultural sand shifting beneath our feet and discern how we will respond. This makes me think of the story of a bridge in Honduras.

In 1998, Hurricane Mitch devastated much of Central America, dumping 75 inches of rain in less than four days and killing more than 10,000 people. In Honduras, more than 100 bridges were damaged or destroyed.

But not the Choluteca Bridge.

Built by a Japanese company with such design strength that it could withstand the fiercest of storms, the Choluteca Bridge was left in near perfect condition.

There was just one problem. The bridge now spanned dry ground.

During massive flooding caused by the hurricane, Choluteca River carved itself a new channel and no longer flowed beneath the bridge at all. The Choluteca Bridge became known as “The Bridge to Nowhere.”

FBC family, as we head into this near year with so many reasons for hopefulness, let us keep before us the reality that when it comes to religious institutions and structures in American life, the river has moved.

What this means for First Baptist Church is that simply trying harder at what we’ve always done before is not going to be an option.

The good news is that our congregation is ready as we’ve been in a long while to build a new bridge toward our neighbors of hospitality, generosity, justice and compassion.

An important part of crossing this bridge together will involve taking stock of what we have and what we need. I will be working with staff and FBC lay leaders in the weeks and months ahead to assess the current realities of our congregational life—from buildings and finances to ministry and mission.

Our steps in this journey will need to be intentional and calculated in some areas and bold, creative and innovative in others. I look forward to discerning together how we will take essential steps together at this crucial moment in FBC’s 220-year journey.

In the Great Love,

The future of FBC depends on the Spirit of God and the involvement of our laypeople.

Dear FBC Family, I hope your run-up to Christmas this week is meaningful. I hope to see you at the Christmas Eve service this Saturday at 4:00 p.m., and, if you want a double-dose of joy, at Christmas Day worship this Sunday at 11:00 a.m. 
 
Appreciation for the Campbells
 
As I did in worship this past Sunday, I want to acknowledge Joel and Jennifer Campbell’s decision to move back to their home state of South Carolina, and to share my gratitude for the many contributions they made to First Baptist Church while they were among us. The Campbells officially began their time at FBC on the last Sunday before the pandemic ushered our communal life to the territory of Zoom. 
 
As executive pastor, Joel oversaw the demolition of the old education building, the renovation of the sanctuary building, and early construction of the new community building. Jennifer came alongside our youth, contributed to our weekly communications efforts, and led FBC’s Give It Forward capital campaign with positivity and enthusiasm. I pray the very best for Joel, Jennifer, Jackson and Jance as they walk into their future together.
 
Looking to the Future
 
This past week, Pastor Eric and I have had several “moving forward” conversations and are feeling extremely hopeful about the year ahead. While he and I, along with our support staff, will take on some extra responsibilities in 2023, the future of FBC depends on the Spirit of God and the involvement of our laypeople.
 
You are needed! As Paul wrote to the church in Rome:“Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them!” What is your passion? What gift is yours to share: 
 

• Teaching teenagers or children? 

• Facilitating adult small groups?

• Leading in worship?

• Welcoming newcomers? 

• Singing? 

• Nurturing community? 

• Serving the vulnerable?

• Working for justice? 

• Arranging flowers?

• Photography? 

• Technology? 

• Banking?

• Facilities?

• Social Media? 

• Something else?

 
For 220 years, this church has summoned the energies, abilities, gifts and passions of generations of people who’ve called FBCDC their spiritual home. This isourtime. What will we do with it?
 
Leaning forward with hope…

Thanksgiving in the Shadow of Heartbreak

I was three years old on Thanksgiving Day of 1963. I was too young to understand the assassination of President Kennedy six days earlier, but I registered the grief of the adults around me. I was in the living room with my mom and dad as they watched a million people line the route of the funeral procession in Washington, from the Capitol back to the White House, then to St. Matthew's Cathedral, and finally to Arlington National Cemetery. 

Three days after JFK’s funeral we watched again as people lined the streets of New York City for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Mom says I turned my 3-year-old face from the TV and asked, “Who died?” I now associated parades and crowds with death.

In 1963 our nation observed Thanksgiving in the shadow of heartbreak.

My own family felt that shadow 36 years later, as we gathered around our Thanksgiving table eight days after the funeral of my father. As was our custom, before the mealtime blessing, with tears in our eyes each of us shared something for which we were grateful.

Thanksgiving in the shadow of heartbreak.

Now today, there’s a heaviness in the air as we prepare to sit down at the Thanksgiving table. Within the last ten days:

• four college students stabbed to death in Idaho

• three college athletes shot to death on a bus in Charlottesville

• five people shot to death and 25 others wounded in a queer bar in Colorado Springs.

• And only minutes before sitting down to write this column, six people were gunned down in a Walmart in Chesapeake, Virginia. 

Thanksgiving in the shadow of heartbreak.

How do we find within ourselves an “attitude of gratitude” when what we mostly feel is grief, anger, disbelief, and loss?

It’s my conviction that gratitude and prayer are inextricably joined. Richard Rohr says it beautifully: “Prayer is sitting in the silence until it silences us, choosing gratitude until we are grateful…”

Brian McLaren echoes this notion in his book, Naked Spirituality: A Life with God in 12 Simple Words: “Perhaps at some point, all of us are reduced to despair, but my hunch is…having lost everything, one may still be able to hold on to one’s attitude, one’s practiced habit of gratitude, of turning to God in Job-like agony and saying, ‘For this breath, thanks. For this tear, thanks. For this memory of something I used to enjoy but now have lost, thanks. For this ability not simply to rage over what has been taken, but to celebrate what was once given, thanks.’”

I leave you with a Thanksgiving gift: a brief, gorgeous meditation on gratitude by Bro. David Steindl-Rast, the Austrian American Catholic Benedictine monk and author. I invite you to settle into a comfy chair, take some deep breaths, paying attention to your breathing and your heartbeat, and let yourself be immersed in gratitude, beauty, and joy. 

Thanksgiving peace to you…

The light has gone inside things.

I love the autumn light. There is less of it this time of year, but oh what an exquisite light it is. As the slanted rays filter through gold and red and caramel-colored leaves, it feels a little like walking around inside an Edward Hopper painting. Maybe John Donne was musing about this exceptional light when he wrote, “In Heaven it is always Autumn.”

This weekend we will “fall back” as Daylight Saving Time comes to an end. I remember from my childhood the twice-yearly ritual of resetting every clock in the house, with Mom gently nudging the hands on the face of the big clock in the den forward or backward, depending on the season, while my brother and I reset our bedside digital alarm clocks. Today, of course, our smartphones do all the work for us while we sleep.

Either way, this Sunday afternoon we'll be struck by how little light there is.

Some of us will welcome the fading of the light as we reach for a blanket and cup of tea. For others, the encroaching darkness will bring a sense of melancholy and loss. We will miss the sun.

Years ago during autumn, Robert Farrar Capon, the Episcopal priest, author, gardener and chef, was looking at all the fruits, vegetables and spices he had frozen, canned or dried for winter consumption. He also looked at the woodpile, ready for use against the cold. He remembered how all these things had grown because of the sun, and that all the energy now stored in them was, in fact, stored light. The sun had gotten inside the wood and inside the tomatoes and beans and squash and, through them, would continue to give life. Capon wrote: The days may be getting shorter, but the light has gone inside things. We'll have it all winter, no matter how the sun may hide.

Capon’s observation is warm encouragement for any of us who long for more light—whether the light of the sun or the light of God’s presence. Both have a way of getting inside things. When there seems to be a lack of either light on the outside, where you can see, try looking within.

Friends, as we prepare to “fall back” may the light within sustain us in the days ahead.

Peace and grace,

Feeling Grateful

This past week has been chock-full of reasons for gratitude at FBC:

1. Our dear Treasurer, Mike Henson, informed me that FBC’s giving is strong and is ahead of last year’s giving at this point. I’m grateful for the ongoing generosity of this congregation.

2. We hosted the wedding of Megan Smith and Marlan Golden last weekend, and FBC’s newly renovated facilities were a joy to share with several hundred guests. I’m grateful for the Facilities Improvement Team (FIT) whose faithfulness, creativity and diligence since that first meeting early in 2018 have moved this massive project forward.

3. Dr. Sarah Willie-LeBreton’s presence with us at FBC’s Fall Forum was pure gift. Her presentation during Faith Formation Hour, A Contemplative Approach to Conflict, had all of us taking notes for application in our own lives. And her rich, scholarly sermon in worship, My People Shall Never Be Ashamed: Abundance, Loneliness, the Finished Race and the Good Fight, left me wanting to sit with her words and absorb them into my heart and mind.

Dr. Sarah Willie-LeBreton

I asked Sarah if she would share her manuscript with us and she generously agreed. You can read her sermon here. For now, I leave you with nine questions Sarah posed on Sunday, based on the three lectionary texts, Luke 18:9-14, Joel 2:23-32 and 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18:

• What if the “lion’s mouth” is a metaphor for the worst of all conflicts, and the work that we do to find a new reaction is the deliverance we’ve been seeking?

• What if learning how to love each other, learning to listen to each other is actually what is meant by the good fight?

• What would righteousness look like if it were truly humble?

• How would we engage each other if our vats were full of wine and oil? Would we share them?

• If our refrigerators were full—if they are full now—how would God know that we are generous and compassionate?

• What do we do when our refrigerators are full but the air is full of locusts or Covid?

• If the streets are full of Proud Boys and Oath-keepers who are terribly ashamed and for whom promises have been relentlessly broken…What do our interventions look like then?

• Or when some loved ones are in the throes of addiction, or when others have died alone?

• How might we each imagine a heavenly kingdom—an afterlife with less pain and more joy? The continuation of this human life for those who come after us with less pain and more joy? The life we are currently living on Earth with less pain and more joy?

Thanks be to God for the chance to hold these questions close today and to see what rises. And thanks be to God for a congregation that welcomes the deep conversations about life and faith. This pastor’s heart is full to overflowing today.

In the Storm

At last Wednesday’s pastoral staff meeting I began our time together with some silence and a reading of one my favorite Mary Oliver poems, In the Storm, in which Oliver takes a tender scene from nature—acts of kindness between birds in a storm—and uses her keen observational powers and poetic brilliance to bring it home to the lives we are living.

Ron Pennington (Julie’s brother), Barbara Pennington (mother) and Julie.

Perhaps it’s a case of poetic timing that, one week later, I’m sitting at the dining room table in my mother’s snug little home on the outskirts of Orlando, watching rain pelt the windows as we await the eye wall of Hurricane Ian to pass over this area.

While it’s been years since I’ve experienced a major storm, my Floridian mom, at 83, is a veteran “hurricaner.”

We made a quick trip to Trader Joe’s for bottled water on the way home from the airport on Monday, which was fortunate since store shelves are empty today (along with Orlando International Airport, Disneyworld and all major theme parks). 

Yesterday, after we brought all of Mom’s potted plants and garden doodads indoors, she said, “Well, we’re as ready as we’re going to be. Let’s watch The Waltons.”  

Several FBCDC folk have loved ones and/or property in Florida. My brother lives in St. Petersburg, in the Tampa Bay Area. His home is situated less than a mile from the ocean and is vulnerable to storm surge. Let us hold them in prayer today, along with our siblings in Christ at William Carey Baptist Church in Havana and all the people of Cuba as the government tries to reactivate the power grid. 

Circling back to dear Mary Oliver and her ode to kindness in the poem, In the Storm, I have witnessed multiple acts of kindness in Florida just over the past few days. The Orange County Homeless Coalition is operating around the clock; neighbors are checking on neighbors; store clerks have been offering a “Y’all stay safe!” to every customer; loved ones from around the country have reached out to check on my mother and me.

In these days of natural, political, and personal storms, surely kindness is one of the most needed fruit of the Spirit and a tangible expression of Christ’s two-fold commandment to love God and all the neighbors in our path.

I do plan to be with you for World Communion Sunday and the Mid-Atlantic CBF gathering in the afternoon. Thank you for your prayers, church family. I’m holding all of you in mine.

In peace,

Image created using Ai tool Midjourney, edited in photoshop.