It just goes to show, I guess, that you can take Southern Baptists out of the South, but you can't take Southern out of their name.

Entirely.

Officially.

Although a large percentage of new Southern Baptist churches have shed both "Southern" and "Baptist" from their name for years.

The committee did offer a compromise "alternate" name -- those who don't want to publically identify as Southern Baptists could call themselves "Great Commission Baptists."

As if that changes anything. Committee chair Jimmy Draper admitted that the alternate name is really a "descriptor" and he acknowledged that "Already, Southern Baptists can do anything they want to do."

The committee's report focused on concerns that the name "Southern Baptist" is too regional and laden with cultural overtones, making it hard for the convention to recruit or begin new African-American or other ethnic churches.

What the report appears to ignore is that for many people, it's not the regional connotations of "Southern Baptist" that drive people away, it's the negative reputation the convention has gained for a variety of intolerant, anti-gay, male-supremacist, right-wing political stands the convention has taken in the two decades since fundamentalist leaders used fear-mongering tactics to take control of the convention from the so-called "liberals."

It's not the word "Southern" that turns prospective members away in urban mission areas, it's words like "Boycott Disney" and "wives should submit to their husbands."

There's no question that the Southern Baptist Convention has an image problem, but its source is far broader than the word "Southern." If the SBC is going to remain right of center, anti-progressive, and male-dominant, it should stand up and be proud of who it is. As I've suggested before, since so many of us find it necessary to qualify our Baptistness by saying "I'm not that kind of Baptist," I'd vote for the SBC to become the "That Kind of Baptist Convention."

You don't see many of them, a dozen or so of any size, but you shouldn't see any at all. Eastern hemlocks like weather that's considerably cooler than the North Carolina Piedmont. So how is it that you can find them here, 200 miles from the mountains, where they're considerably more at home?

It's an anomaly of nature, as one might expect. Millions of years ago, a much larger version of the current Swift Creek eroded softer volcanic rock on the north side of a quartz ridge, exposing sharp bluffs more than 100 feet high.

During the last glacial age, some 18,000 years ago, the area was considerably cooler and species like hemlocks. jack pines, and the ground plant galax were common. As the glaciers retreated and the region warmed, most cool-weather species died out, but beneath the north-facing bluffs, close to the stream, the average temperature remained cool enough for a few hardy hemlocks and scattered clumps of galax to survive. 

I like walking there, not just for the exercise (three miles of hilly trails) and a chance to happify the dog, but to pause on the occasional overlook and take a look at those trees that aren't supposed to be there, but are. Some of them may look a little ragged, but there's something holy about them. They survive, and even thrive.

And some days, that's a good thing to see.

The phenomenon is apparently due to a relatively rare combination of weather patterns in the upper atmosphere. Circular winds around the Arctic (the "Arctic Oscillation") have been spinning faster than normal, keeping the cold jet stream locked in the far north. When the winds slowed enough recently for the frigid air to flow south, another pattern called the North Atlantic Oscillation blocked the cold air from much of North America, leaving it to spill into Europe and Asia.

What that means where I live is that my plants are doing strange things. The decorative winter cabbage I planted is turning into trees. I'm still cutting baby florets for stir fry from broccoli plants that won't die, and my collards aren't just staying alive through the winter, they're still growing. I can only eat so many collards -- if you're hungry for some, give me a call.

I can't help but wonder, given the weird winter, what sort of spring we can expect. I suppose atmospheric winds will determine that, but whatever shape it takes, it will be welcome. Even when it's on the weird side, winter is a time of short days and long nights, which can be a downer.

Will our weird winter be followed by a strange spring? Who knows? Whatever form it takes, we can be confident that spring will include sunny warmth and new growth that shouts of hopeful promise, and that's something we all can use.

The building has been painted in shades from plain white to colorful murals. Currently, it's bright green and purple. The latest business trying to make a go of it is a small thrift shop, and I wish them much success.

Chances for that could be improved if whoever's running the shop would clarify whether it's actually open or not.

Windows on both green and purple sides of the builiding are festooned with large "Now Open" signs, but between one of those signs and the front door, a smaller sign says "Closed." 

At least, that's how it was the first four times drove by. It's been open once, I think, but there are no hours posted, nothing to indicate exactly when one might browse the bargains inside. 

It occurred to me that so many of our churches give the same mixed message. Some are only open for a few hours each week, and newcomers might be hard pressed to know when those hours are. 

More pointedly, while many churches have some sort of "Welcome" sign posted, whether guests are warmly received when they get inside is up for grabs. A couple of my students expressed disappointment recently when they learned that the non-Anglo youth they'd recruited weren't really welcome at the churches they served. 

Racism lives, as does prejudice or discomfort toward people whose social status, cultural norms, gender identity, or theological views don't match what's more normative in a particular church. 

I've experienced a church or two that are truly welcoming, and the difference is palpable.

Do we sometimes put out the welcome mat but then turn a cold shoulder?

If so, we might as well be honest and just post the sign: "Closed."

But at 7:00 a.m. on March 30, 2011, four armed agents from the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency knocked on the door and took him into custody. Before long, Naz was sitting in the South Texas Detention Center in Pearsall, Texas, 235 miles away from home and from Hope.

And what was the problem? Years ago, as a very young adult, Naz had developed an addiction to drugs and alcohol, and in 2005 he was arrested more than once for drug possession. Realizing that he had a problem, he voluntarily entered a rehabilitation program at Manna House, a faith-based ministry of Mission Waco. Emerging from the six-month program both clean and with new faith in Christ, he wanted to give back. Naz started working with Mission Waco as both a volunteer and as paid staff, became an active leader in a local 12-step recovery program, earned a college degree, and got a responsible job to support his family.

In March of 2007, after getting clean and beginning his new life, Naz's arrests back in 2005 came up for trial. He was offered a deal: by pleading guilty to felony drug possession, he could get off with 10 years of probation and no prison time. What he wasn't told is that the conviction would violate the terms of his green card and put him in the immigration category of "aggravated felon," which made him deportable at any time.

Mustakim was advised to accept the plea bargain and, without knowing the immigration consequences, he did.

Even so, all seemed well and his green card continued to be renewed. But, as we have seen played out in the news, widespread paranoia about "illegal immigrants" in America has sparked political machinations leading to a federal crackdown on deportable aliens. Four full years after his ill-advised plea deal, and well into Naz's reformed life as a productive citizen and compassionate Christian, the authorities decided to deport him.

Without reviewing all the details, I am happy to report that 10 months of waiting and countless hours of legal wrangling, prayer, raising funds for attorneys, "Free Naz" T-shirt sales, and personal appeals finally had a good outcome: on Feb. 7, during a preliminary hearing, the prosecutor granted Naz a waiver from deportation. Soon, the welcome home party was on and Naz could return to his marriage, his work, and his life.

But that life will have a different quality to it. Though Naz's case is closed, both he and Hope yearn to help others who are in similar situations but lack the friends and support that kept Naz hopeful and led to a positive outcome.

As Hope puts it, "The heaviest tears we’ve cried during the past 10 months have been for the men [and women] in the detention centers who were so scared and confused, without a network of support to sustain them like Naz. They are sweet, hard-working, generous individuals. Dads, husbands, brothers … These are people, warm-blooded humans, children of God. And we refuse to settle back into 'life' and forget about them."

The rest of us shouldn't forget, either.

[Photo from Pat Jones Photography. More information about Naz's story and issues relative to immigration is available at wesupportnaz.com.]

Somewhere in the course of describing the difference between a deontological and utilitarian ethical position, and showing how it can often be hard to pin down a clear answer for what's right and wrong, he asked if people should be held responsible for things they did before they understood what they were doing.

I suspect that most of us in the audience were thinking about children who may do horrid things or make bold promises before they have any real comprehension of what their actions entail. Most people would agree, he said, that we wouldn't hold people responsible for their actions if they didn't know what they were doing.

And then he said, "So what then do we do about marriage?"

The implication was that nobody really knows what they're doing when they get married. That's why the state insists on having witnesses to a marriage, he said, so there would be someone to hold people accountable for what they did when they didn't know what they were doing.

Maybe it's because I'm neither a theologian or an ethicist by training, but I didn't get it. Of course, no one knows everything they're getting into when they choose to marry, any more than we know everything that will confront us when we get out of bed every morning.

But we are responsible for choosing the course our lives will take. Whether we will take the risk of any relationship, including marriage, even though we can't know all that lies ahead. Whether we will join a church, not knowing if controversy is on the horizon. Whether we will commit our lives to serving God when we have no idea where that path will lead.

When we take the first step, we're not yet responsible for all the steps that come after. But with every step, we make choices for good or ill or something in between, and we are responsible for those.

I suppose one could always wonder if anyone ever fully comprehends anything -- and I certainly don't claim to fully understand where Hauerwas was going with the question -- but to the extent that we are capable of understanding, I can't help but believe that we have the power to make choices, and to bear the responsibility for them.

Every day.

The class consists of 28 students from a variety of backgrounds. We stratified the results by age and predominant ethnicity: 16 Anglo and five African-American churches more than 50 years old, along with five Anglo and two African-American churches started within the last 50 years.

I asked each student to name the five biggest Sundays of the year for his or her church, and we tabulated their responses to the accompaniment of some spirited discussion. Keep in mind that the answers reflect the students' perceptions: a survey of church members would probably produce different results.

Easter was named as the most well-attended Sunday. It was the top choice for 16 churches (including some from all four categories), and named as one of the top five by 25 students. How Easter could not be on everyone's list is a mystery to me, but we didn't have time to pursue that. 

Homecoming was the top choice for the next largest group, listed as the biggest Sunday of the year by eight students, and in the top five by 15. We could add several more to the list by including a similar service that some churches call "Founder's Day."

The Sunday nearest Christmas Day was next, named as the biggest Sunday by three students and in the top five by 11. If all Christmas-related services are combined, however (Advent, Hanging of the Green, Children's Christmas Program, etc.), the Christmas season has seven top mentions and 25 overall.

I had thought there would be more emphasis on traditional celebrations like Mother's Day and Father's Day in the older churches, but there weren't any major differences. One thing was true in every case, however: Mother's Day is always bigger than Father's Day.

We learned some things about each other. Several African-American students had never heard of the "Hanging of the Green" service many churches use to introduce the Advent season. On the flip side, Anglo students were surprised to learn that "Pastor Appreciation Sunday" is an annual event in many African-American churches, complete with sizeable monetary gifts from members of the congregation. Anglo pastors are generally lucky to have an appreciation day when they retire, or on 10 or 20 year anniversaries.

Some observances had a clear local flavor: for churches located near college campuses, the Sunday after classes begin was considered a big day. A number of students mentioned Sundays devoted to a missions emphasis, Operation Inasmuch, or World Hunger Day.

Some version of Women's Day and Men's Day was mentioned fairly often. Among the more interesting special days were "Dress Down Sunday," "Chili Cook-off Sunday," and "Pastor Transition Sunday." I hope they don't celebrate that last one every year.

There's also something to be learned, I think, from what was not on the list, or mentioned only rarely. The fading flower of once-popular "Revival" services was apparent, as just one student mentioned it. Likewise, "Stewardship Sunday" was listed just once, and nobody mentioned a "Pledge Day."

I don't know if any firm conclusions can be drawn from the exercise: Easter, Christmas, and Homecoming days are as much cultural and family-oriented as they are spiritual, so I'm not sure they're an accurate guage of a church's direction. I was gratified to see that a number of students did list missions emphases, but concerned by the lack of excitement about Sundays devoted to outreach or stewardship.

Which leads me to ask, what are the biggest Sundays in your church -- and what do you think that tells you?

I think it's a safe bet that more people recognize pink ribbons as a sign of breast cancer prevention and research than would recognize the name Susan G. Komen -- at least until recently. Komen died of breast cancer in 1980, and as she fought the good fight, her sister pledged to do all she could to fight the cruel disease. She did so by beginning the "Susan G. Komen for the Cure" foundation, raising money to promote both prevention and research.

Komen's sister is Nancy G. Brinker, and the foundation has grown into quite a juggernaut as a groundswell of support from women, friends, and family of breast cancer victims joined the effort by displaying pink ribbons and participating in hundreds of local 5K runs called "Race for the Cure." There were no politics involved, just a concern for women and the life-threatening reality of breast cancer. Last year, according to Brinker, the Komen foundation made about $93 million in grants for awareness, prevention, and research.

As anyone who follows the news knows by now, the Komen foundation recently came under fire because it became known that about $600,000 was granted to various Planned Parenthood chapters in 2009-2010, with the money designated for breast cancer prevention. If Komen's total grants in that period were similar to the $93 million spread around in 2011, the grants to Planned Parenthood chapters were considerably less than one percent of the total.

In some areas, Planned Parenthood is among very few options for breast cancer screenings, especially for the poor. But, Planned Parenthood, as its name implies, also provides reproductive services to women, including birth control education and options, including abortion. So, anti-abortion activists, mainly from the religious right, threatened to withdraw support and clamored for Komen to cut any ties with Planned Parenthood lest they be tained, too.

The straw that appears to have broken the camel's back -- and a weighty straw it is -- was a decision by the Southern Baptist Convention's publishing arm, LifeWay Christian Resources. LifeWay is a huge player in conservative Christian publishing, with marketing that extends beyond mail-order and LifeWay stores to the shelves of WalMart, where LifeWay had been selling a pink-covered "Breast Cancer Awareness Bible" that included information about the Komen foundation and forwarded a one dollar donation to the foundation for each Bible sold.

When LifeWay declared that it had made a mistake by supporting Komen and pulled the Bibles in mid-December, the SBC's Baptist Press publicized the move, and it wasn't long before the besiged foundation announced it would ax future grants to Planned Parenthood.

Founder and CEO Brinker, who served various posts in the Bush administration, adamantly denies that pressure from anti-abortionists or Planned Parenthood opponents had anything to do with the foundation's decision, citing revised policies to improve efficiency that she said had been in the works for some time. She decries "scurrilous accusations" against the foundation, and insists that its motives have been mischaracterized.

The public isn't buying it, though. Facebook and other social media sites have been inundated with posts from people who see the move as caving to political and religious pressure. Many women who have volunteered countless hours in behalf of the foundation are questioning whether they'll continue to do so. Donations to Planned Parenthood skyrocketed, more than making up for the loss of future Komen grants. Twenty-six senators, all Democrats, signed a letter urging Brinker to reconsider.

The problem for the foundation is that many of the women who have felt empowered and brave and energized enough to devote their time and efforts to the cause also feel empowered and brave and energized enough to stand up for themselves and for the right to make decisions -- even those very painful decisions -- about whether they will bear children.

I've seen a smattering of quotes from women who said they had stopped participating in the "Race for the Cure" when they learned that the foundation supported Planned Parenthood. I have a feeling there will be a much larger exodus now, as women who feel betrayed by the decision seek other avenues to do their part in promoting breast cancer awareness and research.

If there's a significant decrease in donations to the Susan G. Komen Foundation, as I suspect there will be, and many millions less are available for the fight against breast cancer, and whatever cure there might be is potentially pushed further into the future, will the activists who pressed for the change because of that tiny percentage granted through Planned Parenthood feel good about themselves?

I wonder.

The recession plays a role, but by no means the only one. The once-common practice of tithing is fading away, and sometimes with the encouragement of church leaders who fear that an emphasis on giving will chase away present or prospective members.

A survey of "evangelical leaders" by the National Association of Evangelicals recently found that 58 percent of the respondents don't believe the Bible requires tithing, though 95 percent of them claimed to do so, and virtually all of them believe that God calls Christians to be generous.

It's widely known and often reported that Mormons tithe at a much higher rate than either conservative or mainline Christian groups: the Pew Forum on Relgion and Public Life reported in January that 79 percent of Mormons tithe (yes, including Mitt Romney, which means millions every year). But, there's a very good reason for that: Mormons are required to tithe in order to participate in temple rituals and remain in the good graces of the institution.

For the most part, neither Protestants nor Catholics believe tithing is a requirement of faith. Protestants in particular put a lot of trust in the New Testament teaching that salvation comes through the grace of God, not by human works -- though it's also believed that those who are saved by grace should show evidence of their faith through good works, including generosity.

The notion of tithing comes from the Hebrew Bible, which describes a fairly complex system of tithes and offerings to be given in support of the temple and the poor. The Hebrew word translated as "tithe" literally means "tenth," which gave rise to the idea that believers should contribute a tenth of their income to God's work, starting with one's local church.

I've never believed that tithing is essential for salvation, nor do I believe Christians should tithe as a downpayment on greater blessings in return (as many teach, based on Malachi 3:10). But I still believe that tithing plays a very important role in the living out our faith. Tithing shouldn't be thought of as a legalistic requirement for church participation, otherwise, we might as well be selling indulgences, charging set fees to remain in good standing with the church. Nor should it be taught as a ticket to greater riches, which is all about selfishness and greed, the antithesis of the gospel.

Still, it seems obvious that those who participate in and benefit from a church ought to support it.

As for the amount, I always thought ten percent is a good place to start. Jesus' teaching, and examples we find in the early church, suggest we should be willing to give everything for the sake of the kingdom -- that makes ten percent seem a bit chintzy. Even so, most people can't give ten percent without feeling it, without adjusting their budgets to do so.

Pastors and other church leaders should never be embarrassed about preaching or teaching on the subject of stewardship. One doesn't have to appeal to a legalistic tithe in order to demonstrate the importance of generosity and the common sense reality that churches and their ministries cannot survive if their members don't support them.

If our faith really matters to us, we won't tithe because we have to, but because we want to.

[Image is from tithingdebate.com, an interesting site that argues against required tithing and asks for donations to get the "freeing" message out.]

Obviously,  I'm neither young, female, nor currently in a clergy position: but I am interested in doing what I can on the blessing end: I want to encourage, support, and bless women who believe God has called them into ministry.

Bless Her Heart is worth reading by a wider audience than young clergy women alone, because it reminds readers that women ministers, whatever their age, face all the challenges of ministry that men face, with a few extras thrown in. Do men have to worry about being criticized for wearing sparkly earrings or open-toed shoes with red toenail polish? I rest my case.

Masters and Smith devote chapters to issues related to pastoral identity in a man's world, dating and romance in a very public position, personal appearance or even pregnancy in the pulpit, the extent to which one can be emotionally transparent, and the sometimes particular challenges of working with other women.

The authors polled a number of sisters in ministry, and as one might expect, each chapter contains anecdotes based on real parish experience. Masters and Smith then flesh out each of the various issues, explore them from a biblical perspective, and offer suggestions for learning.

The book provides non-whiny commiseration and supportive encouragement to young women ministers, and I'm glad for it. Kudos to the authors, and to Chalice Press.

The saddest thing about the book, from my perspective, is that its target audience is so small. In Baptist life, at least, there are many women who are called of God, prepared to serve, and anxious to take their places in church leadership despite the extra obstacles, but they are not given the chance, especially in pastoral roles.

We need to do more than bless their hearts as women ministers: we need to hire them.