By Tony Martin
Editor
I recently attended the Southern Baptist Convention in Dallas.
I’ve lost track of how many conventions I’ve been to. In my almost 25 years serving at the Mississippi Baptist Convention Board, first as Associate Editor of The Baptist Record and currently as the Editor, I’ve come to realize each SBC has a flavor all its own.
Many times the Convention is likened to a family reunion. A big one. If you’re part of a big family and attend family reunions, you know that there are some relatives you see frequently throughout the year, some you only see sporadically, and some you only see at the reunion itself. There are often some relatives you don’t even know who show up.
Among those are the stereotypical relatives:
- The doting grandmother who wants to make sure that everyone feels welcome and has plenty to eat.
- The crazy uncle, everyone’s favorite, who keeps some sort of nonsense going all the time. He’s a blast to be around.
- That second cousin who is educated well beyond his intelligence. He talks a lot, most of it nonsense, and is devoid of common sense or reason.
- The other cousin who is armpit deep in conspiracy theories. He loves informing you about what’s really going on in government and society. Hang around him long enough, and you’ll learn more about the Deep State, the Bilderbergs, the One World Government, and the faked moon landing than you really care to know. Eventually he’ll work his way around to aliens and lizard people. (Disclaimer: since time immemorial there have been conspiracies that were shown to be valid. I’m not talking about those. You know what I mean.)
- That aunt and uncle who have 18 kids at last count, trying to ride herd on their brood.
- The uncle who is a career politician. He’s run for, won, and lost a score of elections. He’s currently a state senator, and has more lofty aspirations. He knows every relative there by name. When he first stepped into the Senate chamber, within 32 seconds he was plotting how he could stay there … or even move upward.
- Those younger cousins who are throwing a football around. They’re just there for a good time. Even though their parents forced the reunion on them, it didn’t spoil their fun in the least.
I saw archetypes of these sweet people in Dallas. In the general sessions, in the exhibit hall, in corridors, in restaurants, and at the microphones and on the platform, they were all there.
This strikes me as healthy. We Southern Baptists are a diverse lot. There’s no such thing as a “typical” Southern Baptist. If we were all the same, where would be the fun in that? (Note: Some conventioneers tend to take themselves way too seriously. I’m not implying that there weren’t some very important decisions in play, and they should be dealt with soberly and respectfully. But I’d be less than honest if I denied I saw some eye-rolling among messengers from time to time.)
For the most part, over the years I’ve tended to believe that messengers to the Convention, when properly informed, do the right thing. I felt that way this year.
The old adage about seeing sausage being made comes to mind. Our work is done in the public eye — anyone can watch us in action. I often wonder what a journalist who isn’t familiar with how we do business thinks of all this. I’ve heard that we are the largest deliberative body in the country during the Convention. It’s pure democracy, and when you have a gazillion folks with access to a microphone, you’ll see and hear some interesting things. What struck me this year, and what I’ve noted in years gone by, is that with the exception of a couple of outliers, messengers are really respectful, even when you know there are contentious issues in play.
There may have been times in the past when I may have felt compelled to defend Southern Baptists to those who “aren’t us.” I don’t worry about that much anymore. People will believe what they choose to believe. Jeff Iorg reminded us many times that Southern Baptists are a force for good, and to stand on that truth should bring comfort and the right kind of pride. I am proud to be Southern Baptist.
I never felt better during the Convention than I did when having a chat with a young lady at the front desk at the Omni hotel. I felt that the folks at the Omni had done a great job of taking care of us. I told her that and thanked her.
She just beamed. “Y’all have been the sweetest folks!” she said. “We’ve loved having you here.” A beat, and she dropped her voice a bit. “I wish more people were like y’all. You’re just different.”
That warmed my heart. I told her that I want to believe we’re different because God loves us, and gives us the opportunity to love others in the same way. “God loves you too,” I told her.
She said, “I can see that.”
I would have loved to continue that conversation, but there were folks in line behind me and she had her job to do. Still, that brief encounter was special.
Folks, if we Southern Baptists could become known more for what we’re for than what we’re against, there’s no telling how much more God could use us. Of course we want to stand firm on scripture and engage in culture appropriately. But to simply be kind and watch for those opportunities just to be salt and light — that is a good thing.
I’m praying for Abby, the young lady at the Omni. If her seeing Southern Baptists in that setting moved her, and brought her to a place of being more open to the Gospel, then the Convention was a very good thing.
