Southern Baptist fundamentalists loved having Rogan Moran as their most reliable theological watchdog during the convention’s hostile takeover. Nobody could sniff out a “liberal” behind every Baptist bush — or batter an opponent — any better.

Moran, who created and leads the small but influential Missouri Baptist Laymen’s Association, is the master of guilt by association. He brands everyone with whom he disagrees on theology, social issues or methodology as heretical or worse.

He has particularly targeted the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty for his accusations.

Even after many moderates left the Southern Baptist Convention in 1991 to form the CBF, Moran could not leave them alone. Meticulously, he would work through the varied workshop leaders at CBF meetings looking for even the most remote evidence of liberalism and then paint everyone in the movement as being of like-mindedness on the subject.

Moran, like other critics, is obviously troubled that CBF — out of respect for the Baptist principle of local church autonomy — does not adopt resolutions regarding social issues. But Moran is more than willing to “uncover” and articulate CBF’s positions on moral and theological issues for them.

However wide he needs to reach, the MBLA “research director” can find some remote “evidence” to justify his condemnation of all Fellowship participants and partners as humanists, liberals, pro-abortionists or most any other label of condemnation. SBC leaders have never rebuked him for his wild tactics; he has been too helpful to them.

In fact, Southern Baptists who took over the convention have been good at giving spoils to the victors. So, Moran, the welder and consummate straw-man builder, was granted a seat on the powerful SBC Executive Committee. A second four-year term has put him into an eighth consecutive year as a Missouri representative on the committee.

But SBC powerbrokers are probably regretting that decision now. It seems that the same characteristics the new crop of Southern Baptist leaders once loved in Moran when he was helping them clean out the SBC house — aggressiveness, certainty of opinion, false labeling, inflexibility — are now being directed their way as well.

Being on the receiving end, current convention leaders are discovering, is not as much fun. In 2005, Moran wanted to know why he and other Executive Committee members were not aware of CEO Morris Chapman’s compensation.

More recently, he has helped lead an effort to urge Southern Baptists out public school systems and condemned SBC church starters by tying them to the Emergent church movement which he denounces as liberal, humanistic, yady-yady-yady.

Back in Missouri, Moran was rewarded with the chairmanship of the state convention’s nominating committee. He gets to put those who agree with him into positions of influence.

But lately, other Missouri Baptist Convention leaders have been refereeing a battle between Moran and MBC Executive Director, David Clippard — who was brought in a few years ago from Oklahoma with full SBC fundamentalist credentials.

Apparently, Clippard mistook his election to the top post to mean that he was the person charged with leading the state convention into the future.

Through his “Project 1000,” launched in 1998, Moran helped wipe the Missouri convention clean of moderate Baptist influence. As a result the state convention spends much of its time and money in a legal battle to bring breakaway agencies and institutions back under convention control.

Those aware of Moran’s tactics and influence in the Missouri convention can fully understand why the boards of the conference center, newspaper, university, retirement home and foundation would want to change their charters to get away from such an environment of intimidation and control.

Generally, the “winners” of the fundamentalist takeover of the SBC and most state conventions are happy to just revel in their victories and enjoy the spoils. But Moran does not slow down — always seeing more targets in site.

Southern Baptist leaders in Missouri and beyond are discovering that it is hard for one to hear “Whoa!” after years of responding to their “Get ‘em, boy!”