Back to the Shack

One day, a couple of years ago, while scrolling through a free movie weekend on HBO, I came across the movie, "The Shack." The family was asleep in bed, so I thought that this would be a fun and interesting movie to watch. I knew nothing about the movie other than it was supposed to be a Christian movie and the idea was that a man meets God in a shack. I expected something a little light-hearted and humorous that would inculcate some useful and important homily. Boy, was I mistaken!

I was not prepared for what happened. This movie was an emotional roller-coaster ride that took me places that, frankly, I didn't care to go. (Yes, I just used a cliche, but it fits so well.)

By the time I had finished this, er, movie, my theology had been, no hyperbole, shaken up. I have ever so rarely come across anything that effected me in such a manner. 

After it was over, I immediately went to Amazon and downloaded the book. Something I'd never done in response to a film before.

I've had so many discussions on-line and with people I know concerning this movie and book. (The book was pleasantly similar to the movie.) Discussions I've renewed repeatedly. I've thought about it and prayed about it and struggled over it. Why? Because, though I highly recommend it, there is something about it that didn't set quite right with me.

If, as I can't imagine, someone who hasn't seen the movie or read the book was to read my thoughts on this, it seems only fair to give fair warning. (Frankly, I cannot imagine anyone other than my immediate family even seeing this post.)

SPOILER ALERT!

Now, the things that bothered me did not necessarily include presenting God as a black woman and the Holy Ghost as an Asian woman. That was explained as, well, real, but also a vision, I suppose. Besides, I decided to treat it as metaphor and just went with it.

The thing that has really vexed me for so long, though, is what the author was trying to say about forgiveness. I understand why people claim he was pushing universal salvation. Though, I didn't really think so myself. Besides, "Papa" kept reiterating that she doesn't like slaves.

Though, a YouTube interview I saw recently with Paul Young seemed to indicate the possibility that he may actually subscribe to a form of "universalism." In short, and trying to paraphrase fairly, he said that he wouldn't be surprised if God was the kind of God who would make a way for all mankind to ultimately come to Him and share His love. 

Personally, I would think one would have to ignore a lot of verses in the Bible about Hell. That would include much preaching from our Lord. To believe that there is any possibility that all will ultimately live in the eternal bliss of Glory flies in the face of everything the Holy Scripture says about the Justice of God. And, yes, God is just!

One scripture reference here: John 3:16. Why would Christ talk about those who believe "would not perish" if, after all is said and done, none perish?

Anyway. Back to the shack!

In the end, the real, ultimate problem was that "Papa" wanted the man to forgive. Okay, but even to the point of forgiving the man who had destroyed his daughter? (Kill is not strong enough of a word.)

Now, honestly, this entire thing is very emotional for me. As a father of a daughter, or, I suppose, for a father of any child, for that matter, the idea of a man hurting my baby is more that my mind wants to ponder. Hurt me, okay. We'll deal with that. But my child? That's quite a different story.

I probably don't need to quote a bunch of Bible verses to make the point that God wants us to forgive one another. (And even ourselves.) He wants us to forgive others. Others who have hurt us. Yes, even hurt us terribly. But with no qualifications?

A year or two ago, there was a shooting at, of all things, a Texas church. Several were killed. Even the pastor's small granddaughter. It was dreadful. Horrible!

One of the most asinine reporters I've ever seen on television was asking questions of the pastor and his wife just a couple of days after the shooting. I can't remember all of his questions, but one really stood out as historically stupid. The man coldly asked, "Have your forgiven the shooter?"

The pastor feebly answered in the affirmative and the clip cut back to something else related to the story. 

Me? I only wished that that idiotic reporter could hear the things I called him!

Why, in the name of all that's holy, would he ask such a heartless question? The poor couple's granddaughter was not even in the grave yet and some jack ass is asking him about forgiveness?

I can guarantee you that if they had not been Christians, if he had not been a pastor, no one would've asked him if he had "forgiven" anyone. But since they were believers, at least with the world, it's perfectly fine to be a thoughtless cad to the recently bereaved. Sheesh!

Now, at that time, I can remember thinking, "Who said the shooter wants forgiveness?" (I can't recall, but I think he was taken alive.) Did anyone ask him if he wanted to be forgiven? Did he ask to be forgiven? Did he think he did anything wrong?

To me, it just seemed like the same old drivel I've heard time and again about "forgiveness." It's almost like the word is magical and somehow saying, "I forgive you," grants as much to whomever we consider the offender.

More later.

Back to "The Shack."

Here is a story about a man, "Mack," who lost his little girl in the worst way imaginable. And he is supposed to forgive this serial killer who doesn't think he's done anything wrong? Someone tell me how that works?

I'm not sure how much time I should spend discussing here what it means to be a reprobate. I could  ask why the Bible talks about them if there is no such thing? People seem to give the concept pretty much no thought.

More later.

I've heard story after story of people "forgiving" those who've hurt them. Those who, at least in their minds and maybe truly, have hurt them in ways that will be with them until their dying day. But, they say they've forgiven them. How?

How do you forgiven someone who thinks they've done nothing wrong. In other words, how do you grant forgiveness to the unrepentant? Can you?

I won't try to quote the number of Bible verses that explain that God's forgiveness is ready and waiting, but we must repent, admit our wrong, and ask forgiveness for the sins we've committed against Him. It's not complicated. He freely grants mercy to those who ask for it. 

What of those who don't repent? Who don't confess? Who don't, who won't, ask for forgiveness? Again, there are a lot of verses about Hell in the Bible too.

There is an almost, methinks, equally important part to this conundrum. How do we deal with the hurt, the pain, the confusion, the anguish when someone doesn't want forgiveness when they've wronged us?

Perhaps we earnestly desire to forgive them. Sometimes it's for our own desire to be relieved of the struggle of not knowing what to do. Sometimes the pain and frustration is so bad, we'll do or believe anything to relieve it. Sometimes people just fake it.

The author described the grief the family was stuck in after the disappearance of the child as the "great sadness." What an apropos name. The guilt, the shame and the loss the family endured was something to which all too many can relate. I thank God I cannot!

Firstly, bearing in mind that it's impossible for us to be unbiased and we, being human, tend to think first of ourselves and our own needs. Still, we must be sure as we can be that we are the injured party and not just suffering from our own poor choices. (This part requires much prayer and fasting.) Alas, we do tend to conflate the two.

That is one thing the author did brilliantly, he chose a hopeless scenario where there could be no doubt about who was at fault. Yes, the parents, being good parents, felt guilt for the mistakes, that they imagined, incorrectly, they made. They, no doubt, were actually, certainly the innocent, injured parties. Theirs was a hurt that they did not ask for in any way.

The awful thing the perpetrator had done had showed him as someone certainly on the road to Hell. The dichotomy between himself and the family was a clear demonstration that he was as guilty as they were innocent. He was certainly a man in need of forgiveness.

So, how do we cope when people just ain't interested in our forgiveness? They don't believe they've done wrong or they just don't care. Even with someone so lost as a sociopathic killer.

There is a question worth actually considering: What if the offender is a reprobate. Certainly, in my mind, the serial killer in the story is such. Reprobate means, simply, abandoned of God. To paraphrase that, I would  say that such people are so cold and numb to the Holy Ghost that God doesn't even trouble Himself with them. (How horrible would it be to be so depraved?)

These people would be rare, of course. Quick names like Hitler, Stalin and Mao come to mind. Still we don't have to look any farther than our own Congress to find such people. A politician who thinks it's perfectly fine to murder a defenseless baby for simple convenience and would campaign on as much betrays a diabolical lack of heart and conscience. The abortion doctor, the serial rapist and pedophile are so far in the flesh, I don't know if there is any hope for these people. 

God's mercy is deep and wide, so, occasionally, I find myself praying for them. Hope springs eternal?

We so struggle with what is often today called "closure." (I hate that term!) The word was used in the movie. 

We want to escape the pain, whoever may be at fault. So we search for any means to mollify or alleviate it. We just want it to go away. We want release. The problem is, what do we do when the pain just won't go away?

Pain is only a part of life. It is inevitable. We feel it in our tummies whenever we've missed a meal. We feel it in our bones as the years pass and we grow old and grey. We feel it in our hearts when we lose something or someone we love. Pain is just pain.

We seek our escape, but it follows us wherever we go. It's there like an old friend, or enemy, who never lets us get too far removed. It holds onto us and wakes us in the night to tell us the most unpleasant stories of days gone by. It even haunts us in our dreams. It's wherever we are. It's part of us. It just is.

We like to say we forgive those who've hurt us because we think it will give us peace. The problem is, it does not. We may live in denial, but the pain is still gnawing at us. We can't get shed of it. At least not so easily. 

Christ taught his disciples to forgive "seventy times seven." Obviously, this is not literal, but a principal. We are to be forgiving to our brother no matter how many times he hurts us.

Scripture says that, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." "Confess" being the operative word. (Yes, I did just reference a particular verse. Finally!)

The question remains: Can we forgive those who do not confess? Those who do not repent? Those who, in their own eyes, have done no wrong? Can we? 

Can God?

Entire Christian denominations are founded on the principal of what is aptly, if over-simply, called "irresistible grace." The idea is that we have no part in our salvation; we don't, can't, even choose God. He strictly and simply chooses us. We are saved because a Holy God, in His wisdom and righteousness, makes us so. We can't lose our salvation because we never claimed it. It was simply granted to us. It is irresistible.

Now, remember, Papa doesn't like slaves. ("Papa" said "prisoners." "Jesus" said "slaves." We are, in my mind, most definitely slaves if we have no choice who we love. Choices can, regrettably, be bad, but they must be ours and we must be free to make them. Otherwise, there is no such thing as free will. 

The Calvinist believes grace is irresistible. The Armenian believes, even after accepting it, grace is rejectable. Both are wrong. The former believes that we cannot love God while the latter believes God cannot love us. Love is a choice and it is everlasting or it isn't love at all. Otherwise, It's just some unpleasant thing that controls us as opposed to us controlling it.

So, again, can I forgive those who stubbornly refuse to ask? I certainly don't mean that they must come crawling to me, begging my forgiveness and that I will then condescend to grant it. No, I mean that their heart and mind must agree that they've done wrong and they must desire forgiveness with sincerity. We too must be ever ready to receive them and love them with a contrite heart and with no haughtiness or pride. We must, at the first sign, be ready to freely give the forgiveness they desperately need and we desperately need to give.

Now, can God forgive the unrepentant. The Holy Scriptures cry out, "NO!"

God's mercy is deep and wide, but if we simply refuse to drink the water, we will die of thirst. Remember the old adage about leading the horse?

Christ became our intercessor on the cross. He died that He might be the propitiation between God and man. He prayed, "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do." With that prayer to His Father, He granted forgiveness to every sinner who had ever breathed and those yet to draw breath. But what if we simply don't want His forgiveness? Is it possible to refuse the God of the Universe?

Studies by smarter men than me calculate that every time we inhale, we inhale a molecule of oxygen that Christ exhaled with His dying breath. Mind boggling! 

Imagine if a man simply refused, for whatever reason, to inhale. If he could somehow just stop breathing. He would die and that very quickly!

It's a simple and inadequate metaphor, but so many treat God's grace the same way. It's there for us to simply inhale, but pride, earthly desires, lusts, anger and a myriad of other devices lead men to hold their breaths like spoiled little toddlers until it's too late. They refuse to breath; so they die.

Hell is full of those who refused the offer of salvation. 

Yes, it's a heady thought, but we can actually refuse this great gift of mercy and forgiveness. We can refuse God's love. We can refuse His forgiveness. We can refuse to love God. Otherwise, it just wouldn't be love, would it?

If you believe you can forgive the unrepentant, aren't you saying you have power that God on His Throne does not? No Christian would say that God forgives without confession and repentance, so, why do we say we can? Why do people stubbornly hold onto the idea that we can forgive those who have unrepentantly wronged us? 

After years of prayer and study on the matter, I believe I've come up with an answer. It may not be THE answer, but if I had to say yes or no, I'd say it is. 

If you can forgive me without my confession and repentance, then it follows suit that God can do the same for you. No confession. No repentance. No change in attitude. Just forgiveness. Unrequested and irresistible. And very, very convenient!

Now, isn't that a way to live? No repentance and no remorse. Just go on with your life as you always have and God will just forgive and forgive and forgive. That, my friend, is the way to Hell!

Sure, no one who believes in one-sided forgiveness is going to agree with my assessment, but two plus two still equals four. If I don't need to repent, then neither do you. Anything else is illogical and denial of intent.

Papa encouraged Mack to repeat the words, "I forgive you," to the perpetrator, who wasn't even around to hear the words. He told him that he would have to say it many times until he could truly forgive, but that that was the way to begin. Ya know, as if the words are a mantra and, if oft repeated, will help you reach nirvana.

Papa even explains, in, I'll call it, the discovery scene, that "forgiveness doesn't create a relationship." Really? How can someone have a relationship with me when I've hurt them and won't admit it? In all fairness, the movie doesn't explain this hypothesis as well as the book. Still, though forgiveness is certainly the first step in a relationship, it is the most essential part of it. I cannot be an unforgiven child of God and neither will God force His forgiveness on me.

Words mean things. Or they mean nothing.

Forgive means forgive. Forgiveness is not about me; it's about the sinner. The offender. It's not about making me feel better; it's about granting pardon to a wrongdoer.

Forgive! Forgive freely, readily and quickly. 

Most of all, pray. Pray! And then pray some more. Maybe after enough prayer, you'll shut up and start listening. 

Then, when things make no sense and the pain just seems to continue, if you look around you'll see One on a cross beside you promising He'll be with you to the very end. 

And then...Paradise!

p.s. In writing something of this nature, the hardest part, perhaps, is looking inward. I try to sincerely ask myself if I'm only giving reasons in vain hope of begrudging forgiveness to those who've hurt me and mine. 

All I can do is pray and hope that I'm being open and honest. I'm only trying to point out that, for us lowly humans, forgiveness is difficult at best. And it needs to be the real deal!

Father God, on the other hand, is an expert at forgiveness. Of course, that's what makes Him special.

Yeah, if you think forgiveness was easy for Him, allow the Holy Ghost to remind you of just what it took to enable Him to forgive us pitiful sinners.

Why So Serious?

I had to apologize recently to this hedonist I know for telling her how terrible she was for pooh-poohing the death of Christ. She repeatedly said, “It's not that big of a deal. God knew Jesus would be back.” She had made similar arguments before in more or less differing ways.

Frankly, the many times I’ve tried to get through to her, I’ve met with no apparent success. She continually argues that since God knew He would raise His Son from the dead, it wasn’t the sacrifice that we Christians make it out to be.

I tried then, as before, to express the awful agony and anguish that the man, Christ Jesus, experienced in the hours leading up to the cross, the crucifixion itself and the abandonment by His friends and His Father. I explained my belief that the latter was the worst part of the entire ordeal. For Jesus, the Only Begotten Son of God, God’s most favored, the one He loved, shall I say, the most, to become the very thing that He hated most…sin!

“He who knew no sin became sin…” II Corinthians. 5:21

It had zero effect! As usual, her jaded heart reflected every dart of Gospel I fired her way.

The conversation was interrupted and it seemed it would not continue. (I wasn’t unthankful for that.) At least, at that moment, I thought not.

Some minutes passed and my thoughts were roving between the previous conversation and a thousand other things before me that day. Whatever path my mind was wandering in was suddenly at a standstill. I had what I believe to be an epiphany. I also knew I had to share it with her the first chance I had or, at least, the first chance I could make.

Several minutes later, at the first opportune moment, I called her by name. I then told her I owed her an apology. She looked at me knowingly. She recognized that something was coming. She had seen me in action before. She bit and inquired as to why.

I told her that I was sorry that I had been scolding her for being so complacent over the death of Christ, when, in actuality, she sounded, to me, much like your typical Baptist. I told her that most Baptists really didn’t take the crucifixion all that seriously either.

She laughed half-heartedly and tried to reiterate some of the silly points she had previously made, but I was past the moment. I chuckled and thanked her for helping me to understand, so to speak, and went on my way.

Through our previous conversations, it had never really occurred to me how off base I actually was. I was directing my displeasure toward the wrong person. I should have been angry with someone else or, rather, another group of individuals.

We fuss and carry on about sinners who don’t seem to give a wit about the love of God or the eminent damnation of their own souls. We seem to be shocked that they care so little. We are astounded that they care not at all!

Funny thing about it, though. They probably are so little affected by the thought of Christ’s agony and their own impending doom because we Christians are so very little affected by it ourselves. It’s much like so many things in our Christian lives: We talk the talk, but we often don’t quite walk the walk.

I remember a story a former pastor of mine once told. It went something like this:

A little boy was sitting in the pew next to his mother one Easter service. The man behind the pulpit was bringing a message that was very apropos for the particular holiday in celebration. As he talked, he went into some detail about the crucifixion itself and concerning the great pain and suffering our Lord endured at the hands of His oppressors.

After some time had passed with the minister detailing the arduous events taking place on that day of days, the mother noticed the sounds of quiet whimpering in the pew beside her. She turned her head to see her little boy with his face in his hands and tears flowing down his cheeks.

Astonished, the mother inquired of her child, “What’s wrong, son?”

The boy looked up at her through red eyes and sobbed, “Don’t you hear, Momma? Don’t you hear what they did to Jesus?”

Alas, his mother reached down to him with tender hand and stoic voice replying coolly to her weeping offspring, “Oh, child. Don’t take it so seriously.”

Isn’t that our problem? We don’t take the price for our salvation “seriously”. Are we so used to the Gospel that it can hardly bring a tear to our eye much less a shout to our lips? Have we become so accustomed to the “Old, Old Story” that we don’t even get excited about telling it anymore?

Even Lazarus got up and walked when the Lord called his name. We sit in our pews afraid to spiritual death that someone will think we might be the least bit out of our own control.

Worse yet, we, who forget the Passion of the Christ who bore our sins, bear little or no compassion for the millions who are starving for someone to truly, sincerely and simply care about them. Instead, we treat them as lepers! We treat them as if they are beneath us. We treat them as sinners, forgetting that we ourselves are only sinners saved by grace. When will we learn? When will we care as Christ cares?

Let us not stop at mere sentiment. Let us not get so caught up in our own therapeutic bouts of emotion where we zealously express our yearning for some enigmatic something and forget that the “greatest of these” is what we should desire.

When will we care? More importantly to me, when will I care?

Our preacher was preaching about Barabbas and the exchange that was made for him when a thought occurred to me that may explain a little of why we are so complacent about the cost for our salvation.

He remarked that he didn’t know if, later in his life, Barabbas was ever saved. The Bible doesn’t really address the prospect. I’m guessing he was. Why? Because if the Lord died for anybody, He died for Barabbas! (No, that doesn’t prove anything, but it’s an argument for my reasoning.)

Did he recognize that he was given a second chance at living? Did he witness the crucifixion? Did he understand that it surely, easily and even should’ve been him on that cross instead of Jesus of Nazareth?

If he did, he certainly would’ve had a different perspective than we. He certainly would’ve had a different testimony that any of us might’ve. I can’t help but think that if Barabbas were standing before your average Baptist congregation today, he, of all people, would be able to look us all in the eye and say, “If you’re not excited about the crucifixion, well, I guess you just haven’t been where I’ve been!”

A Kinder, Gentler Crucifixion

I wrote this blog quite a while back, but, for some reason or another, never published it. I sort of liked it, so, here it is. My daughter is now fourteen and has yet to see the film. I'm hoping we can sit down together with my wife next Easter to watch it.


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Mel Gibson is set to release his new version of “The Passion of The Christ.” The skuttle-butt is, that he has deleted/edited the more graphic scenes out to make the movie more agreeable to the young and/or squeamish.

Now, I'm not about to accuse Brother Mel of going belly-up to the critics or grossly coveting the almighty dollar. I sincerely will give him all the benefit of the doubt I can muster.

I realize this movie has been criticized for its graphic violence and nauseating bloodshed. My very own ten year old daughter, by my choice, has yet to see what I would call the greatest feature film ever made.

Still, it’s so entirely hypocritical of the nay sayers who decried this movie because of its purposeful intensity. The very fact that they have such a problem with the blood and gore shows that they, because of their darkened hearts, missed the whole point of the affair.

Christ suffered one of the most violent, painful deaths ever devised by man. We can never fully realize what must’ve been the indescribable agony of one so unfortunate as to die by crucifixion. Much the worse, He was abandoned not only by His closest friends, but also by His Heavenly Father. Our revulsion at the depiction of what was surely only a fraction of the suffering that Christ must’ve endured is understandable, but to have an inkling of it’s value, requires closer scrutiny than most are willing to invest.

I’ll never forget how jovial we were before entering the theater and how somber we were upon our exit. I remember smiling wryly as I saw the blithe faces of those who were waiting their turn at the viewing. I thought, “Just wait. You’ll be changed soon enough.”

Brother Mel, I think, gave us only a passing glance at the passion that Jesus suffered for us poor sinners. I fear a sanitized version of the film may only weaken it’s impact and undermine the disturbing quality that made this not just a film, but an experience. I know that I was certainly disturbed by my viewing of The Passion. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

"I Used To Be A Baptist"

How many times have I heard it? I heard it again the other night.

I was recently chatting with an acquaintance of mine and, in the course of our conversation, he said, "I used to be a Baptist." He continued that he now attended a Lutheran church and furthermore declared that there is "very little difference" between a Lutheran and a Baptist.

I once called a Mormon "800 number" and requested a free gift. (I was curious.) They asked if they could send someone to talk to me, which thrilled me to no end. After several trips to my home, they brought out the big-guns and were accompanied by a couple of guys who told me, "I used to be a Baptist." I wasn't impressed.

At a store where I once shopped, a Baptist lady worked there who had begun attending the local Catholic church. She said she was really enjoying it and recommend it. I suppose she could now say, "I used to be a Baptist."

I know at least a couple of guys who became Methodist ministers who "used to be Baptist." At least one left the Methodists and joined the Charismatic movement. He later began attending a Baptist church that left the Baptists and joined the Charismatics. Sheesh! (I suppose I need a chart at this point.) I don't think he had anything to do with that. I reckon that entire congregation could say, "I used to be a Baptist."

I have friend who says, "I used to be a Baptist." He is now attending a Pentecostal church. He was raised in a Baptist church, but for some reason I've yet to discern, left us for them.

It seems curious to me, but these people seem to wear their previous Baptist experience as a badge of honor. It sort of reminds me of the guy who kept his ex-wife's picture in his pocket so he could occasionally show it off to his pals. He just wanted to prove that he once could get a real girl, I imagine. You know, like bragging, "I used to be married to her."

I don't want to be overly abrasive, but it's just more of the same: people who believe that there is little or no difference between them and us. It's like believing there's little or no difference between cars, brands of ice cream, bosses or wives or women in general. It's absurd to presume they are all the same! My Dad used to remark about people like that, "Any old port in a storm."

God's Church is definitely not "any old port." Yet, it is a shelter in the time of storm. Those who don't want to be bothered with things like study and research to find the truth may land anywhere. Like a butterfly flitting about beautiful flowers only to ultimately light on a pile of poop.

Don't misunderstand, those who will be saved are among every congregation and in every denomination and religion. There is much grace after the cross. Still, we as Baptists should be proud of our heritage and not be so quick to shrug it off. Too much blood has been spilt and, perhaps will be again, to make the mortar that founded the Church of Christ for it to be so easily and flippantly cast aside as nothing more than, to put it indelicately, one of the Lord's concubines.

I really like what one preacher said about it. "Baptist is not a denomination; it's a way of life."

1 John 2:19 They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would no doubt have continued with us: but they went out, that they might be made manifest that they were not all of us.

P.S. If you leave the Southern Baptists to join the independent Baptists, can you say, "I used to be a Baptist"?

Mea Culpa

It's my fault! It's not your fault; it's not my neighbors fault; it's not the government's fault; it's definitely not God's fault. I've been a jack ass!

I've done things in my life that I am so ashamed of that I shudder when they cross my mind. They haunt me in the still of the night when I should be sleeping the sleep of the righteous. I awaken in the morning and they are sometimes the first thing to leap into my mind. I wretch when they rear their ugly heads.

I wish I could say it was someone else's fault. I'd love to look back on my life and say, "At least, I didn't do..." Yet, I did. I'd like to think that there are some things that are beneath me. It would be nice to believe that I only imagined these things, but I know they are real.

There are people I've known in my life that I used and abused through no fault of their own. If I had been any kind of man, I would not have hurt them. I've heard that AA requires their people to go to everyone they've hurt and apologize. That's not an avenue that I, coward that I am, am prepared to take.

My Daddy always tried to teach me that you can lose an entire life of confidence with one stupid move. If the one you hurt never, ever trusts you again, you have no one to blame but yourself. Is it hard? Is it tough? Is it even fair? I suppose so. Still, that's just the way it is, like it or not!


I've done the excuses and what Bishop T.D. Jakes calls a "Yeah, But Card." I would blame every body, including God, but me. I'd think, "It's not my fault I'm in this situation. God could have saved me from my stupid mistakes, but He didn't." What a fool! I'm supposed to make a mess and God is supposed to clean it up?

I hope that I have repented of my sins. (Or is that am repenting?) I hope that I am a better man than I once was. I'd like to think so.

I can't go back and fix it. If there really was a way to repay the ones I hurt and make it right, I suppose I would. Though, I really wouldn't want to stir up those old ghosts again.

The only thing that I can do is try to live the kind of life today that says that I've changed and, perhaps, even matured. I can do my best to live in a manner that says that that old beast is gone, or at least, more or less, in submission. I can only attempt to have the kind of consistency in my life that says that I am not the boy I used to be. Maybe, someday, I will be a man...a Godly man. That is my greatest hope.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is, in my own cowardly way, that if I hurt you or someone you care about...I'm truly, deeply, sorry. I apologize. I want you to know that I'm still far from perfect...very, very, very far! Yet, I hope I'm right when I say I've grown up quite a bit over the years. I certainly wouldn't even think about doing or saying some of the things I was doing some years ago.

Lastly, it is my hope that someone who knew me then and knows me now, if my time on earth were through, their final thought of me would be that I ended better than I started. I hope they believe I really did make a change and closed my life as a man who, at least, sincerely tried to be a better man.

I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but maybe, by the Grace of God, you'll even go so far as to forgive me...maybe.

More Trouble for the SBC

I just received the following statements from a Landmark Southern Baptist email group to which I belong. I think it shows the dichotomy that has crept into the SBC over the past few decades. PC is not only taking over our country, it appears to be taking over our denomination. Be afraid; be very afraid!






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The Race for 1st Vice President of the Southern Baptist Convention on June 12. On June 12, the Southern Baptist Convention will convene in San Antonio, Texas and will elect a First Vice President. This year two men with very different doctrinal beliefs are running against each other. They are Jim Richards, the Executive Director of the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention and David Rogers a Southern Baptist missionary in Madrid, Spain and the son of the late Adrian Rogers. While both men believe in the divine inspiration of the Scriptures and are actively involved in ministry, their views on the doctrine of the church are polar opposites. Below in their own words are their views of ecclesiology. Based on this I would encourages every Southern Baptist going to San Antonio to vote for Jim Richards. He believes in historic Baptist ecclesiology and will continue to hold the line for conservative Southern Baptists.








David Rogers' View of the Doctrine of the Church: "Regarding my own theological positions, it would be unwieldy to go into much depth here, though I believe the salient matters have been treated a bit more fully at one place or another on this blog throughout the course of the past months. In summary, I am in full agreement with the Baptist Faith & Message 2,000, with the exception of one statement in the section on baptism which would seem to advocate "closed communion." I am also convinced that the Scripture teaches a "continualist" approach to spiritual gifts, which includes the possibility of what many call a "private prayer language." While I certainly believe in the local church, I also see an emphasis on the Universal Church in the New Testament in places that I understand many Baptists see more of an emphasis on the local church. I also see no need to consider as invalid the immersion of a sincere believer due to concerns over the doctrinal position of the administrator of the baptism or the administrating church."








Jim Richard's View of the Doctrine of the Church:
"You see baptism is not a personal issue. It is not about “how I feel about my baptism.” It is not just the sincerity of the candidate. I t is about scriptural authority. The question is whether baptismal authority is individual or congregational. Jesus gave the commission to baptize to the local church. If the commission were given to every believer then any 9-year-old girl who was a Christian could baptize her convert in the backyard swimming pool. Jesus vested the authority to baptize in the church. The Baptist Faith and Message says baptism is a church ordinance. The local church is the custodian of the ordinances. Only a New Testament church can administer scriptural baptism. T here are a few identifying marks of a New Testament church. Are all Baptist churches, New Testament churches? Probably not! Are there New Testament churches that are not Baptist churches? Sure, because what makes a New Testament church is what it teaches, not the name over the door. By the way, one of the identifying marks is that a New Testament church will teach security of the believer."

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist?

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you don't believe in closed communion.

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you preach degrees of Heaven and/or Hell.

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you call the Bible the "word" of God. (I thought Jesus is the Word of God.")

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you allow potential members to join your church on statement from other denominations. (Yes, Independent Baptists are another denomination.)
So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you adopt teachings such as Premillinialism from other denominations like Jehovah Witnesses and Seventh Day Adventists.

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you think that Baptists are "Protestants."

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you hire pastors from other denominations. (Yes, Independent Baptists are another denomination.)

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you leave the Baptists, return to the Baptists and neither you or your fellow congregants think you've done anything worthy of an apology.

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you read and rely on versions of the Holy Bible that amputate great passages and/or aren't yet proven to be reliable.

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you aren't sure if Baptism should only be by immersion.

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you have never read the "Trail of Blood."

So, you call yourself a conservative Baptist, but you've never given any of these any thought whatsoever?

2 Thessalonians 2:15 Therefore, brethren, stand fast, and hold the traditions which ye have been taught, whether by word, or our epistle.