Southern Seminary

Progressive evangelicals reject partisan theology -- in the Donald Trump choir

Progressive evangelicals reject partisan theology -- in the Donald Trump choir

The hours after an apparent assassination attempt are a tricky time for social-media humor.

Some readers didn't get the joke when a progressive evangelical offered a hot take on the man with an AK-47 hiding in the bushes beside Donald Trump's golf course.

"This could either be somebody waiting to try to kill the former president or somebody legitimately using his AK as a putter," noted the Rev. Ben Marsh of First Alliance Church in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, on X. Then he added: "Folks, we're talking about Florida here."

As critics circulated the quip, Marsh reposted strong rejections of political violence, including this appeal: "Please protect Trump and ban these guns!!!"

The furor was timely, since Marsh was one of the first to sign "Our Confession of Evangelical Conviction," a new statement urging evangelicals to reject verbal violence in American life.

"Unlike the false security promised by political idolatry and its messengers, the perfect love of God drives away all fear," noted a key passage. "We reject the stoking of fears and the use of threats as an illegitimate form of godly motivation, and we repudiate the use of violence to achieve political goals as incongruent with the way of Christ."

Skye Jethani of the Holy Post Podcast, the document's lead author, tweeted: "The attempted murder of Donald Trump is evil & every Christian should condemn it."

In the bitterly divided evangelical world, any discussion of these issues -- such as a confession signed by A-List evangelical Trump critics, as well as some doctrinal progressives -- will automatically be framed by the rhetoric of the former president and his boldest supporters. Decades of rapier thrusts by late-night comedians, newsroom warriors and oppo-researchers fade into the past.

Has the DNA of Southern Baptist Convention doctrine changed on ordaining women?

Has the DNA of Southern Baptist Convention doctrine changed on ordaining women?

After decades as America's most famous Sunday school teacher, Jimmy Carter decided to cut the symbolic ties binding him to the Southern Baptist Convention.

The former president remained active at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains, Georgia, and didn't renounce his faith. His 2000 letter to 75,000 American Baptists explained that he rejected a revision of the SBC's Baptist Faith and Message document, months earlier, to oppose the ordination of women.

"I have been disappointed and feel excluded by the adoption of policies and an increasingly rigid SBC creed," wrote Carter, who is now 98 years old and in hospice care. He stressed that, with his wife Rosalynn, he would cooperate with "traditional Baptists who share such beliefs as separation of church and state, servanthood of pastors, priesthood of believers, a free religious press, and equality of women."

From Carter's point of view, the SBC had evolved from a convention of autonomous churches -- with individuals claiming "soul competency" when choosing their own beliefs -- into a denomination that defines orthodoxy on doctrines.

The issue isn't who is a Baptist and who is not. Church historians struggle to count the number of organized Baptist groups and thousands of Baptist churches are totally independent. The question is whether the SBC's DNA has changed in ways that will affect local churches, as well as agencies, boards and seminaries at the state and national levels.

The Rev. Rick Warren -- an American evangelical superstar -- urged the recent national convention in New Orleans not to "disfellowship" congregations that ordain women, such as the giant Saddleback Church he founded in 1980.

"For 178 years, the SBC has been a blend of at least a dozen different tribes of Baptists," said Warren, during floor debates. "If you think every Baptist thinks like you, you're mistaken. What we share in common is a mutual commitment to the inerrancy and infallibility of God's Word, and the Great Commission of Jesus.

"No one is asking any Southern Baptist to change their theology. I am not asking you to agree with my church. I am asking you to act like a Southern Baptist -- who have historically 'agreed to disagree' on dozens of doctrines in order to share a common mission."

On the separation of church and history

On the night he was betrayed, the rabbi from Nazareth gave blunt, by mysterious, instructions about the rite that would forever be at the center of Christian life. The Gospel of St. Luke reports: "He took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me. Likewise also the cup after supper, saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you."

These images mystified the faith's Roman critics. In his multi-media project "Church History Made Easy," Baptist scholar Timothy Paul Jones noted that one ancient pagan wrote this vivid speculation about Christian worship: "An infant is covered with dough, to deceive the innocent. The infant is placed before the person who is to be stained with their rites. The young pupil slays the infant. Thirstily, they lick up the blood! Eagerly they tear apart its limbs."

How can anyone learn these kinds of human details, asked Jones, and come away thinking that history is boring? The stories and lessons of church history are especially important, he said, for millions of evangelical Protestants who attend the many modern megachurches -- flocks with few, if any, denomination ties that bind -- that have helped reshape the landscape of American religious life.

"Taking church history seriously helps us sink our roots into something deeper than the present," said Jones, who teaches at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. "One of the dangers of this whole post-denominational world we live in is that people can lose their rootedness and lose a sense that generations of Christians have passed the faith on to us."

This is especially important in the age of "The Da Vinci Code" and other works of popular culture that can leave people thinking that "there is no heresy and that there is no orthodoxy," he said, in a telephone interview. "What you're left with is a lot of competing voices and the sense that everything is up for grabs."

This is tricky territory for Protestants in churches born through the work of John Calvin, Martin Luther and other reformers who -- to varying degrees -- questioned the authority of ancient traditions preserved in Roman Catholicism or Eastern Orthodoxy. It's even harder to stress church history, said Jones, in today's rapidly changing independent churches that embrace modern media and other marketplace trends.

In these flocks, "tradition" is often measured in months or years, not centuries.

Thus, Jones opened the "Church History Made Easy" book with a reference, not to St. John Chrysostom, St. Augustine, Calvin, Luther or even Billy Graham, but to a classic "Peanuts" strip by the late Charles Schultz. In it, Sally Brown is writing a paper on "church history." To address this subject, she writes, "We have to go back to the very beginning. Our pastor was born in 1930."

Digging into ancient church history can leave some Protestants -- both liberals and conservatives -- facing questions about which traditions to embrace, which to adapt and which to avoid. Take, for example, the penitential season of Lent that leads to Easter.

One Baptist progressive, Central Baptist Theological Seminary President Molly T. Marshall, recently noted that "since the earliest times of the Church, there is evidence of some kind of Lenten preparation in the 40 days leading up to Easter (not counting the Sundays.) After the legalization of Christianity in CE 313, Lent developed patterns that continue, at least in the West."

In recent years, she added, something unusual has happened: "Many Baptists are learning the significance of paying attention to Lent."

Some Baptists will welcome that kind of connection to church history, noted Jones, while others will not. His own congregation recently observed Ash Wednesday, "ashes and all," leading some Southern Baptists to think "we've gone Catholic," he said.

The goal is not to uncritically accept symbols, rites and experiences merely because they are ancient, he said. For evangelicals, the goal is find what they believe is the doctrinal core that they share with Catholics, the Orthodox and other believers through the ages.

"There is what C.S. Lewis called a 'mere Christianity,' a core of Christian tradition that can serve as our touchstone," he said. "There was an orthodoxy -- with a little 'o' -- a tradition you can trace back to the apostles. That's why church history matters."