“Lord, I Believe; Help My Unbelief,” Take Two
Over the last three years I’ve shared in sermons and personal conversations some stories of my formative years in a conservative Baptist church. Many of y’all have similar backgrounds, and I appreciate knowing folk who “get it,” who understand what it is like growing up in the peculiar paradoxes of late 20th century evangelicalism.
But wonder if I’ve shared enough stories about how appreciative I am to have had that exposure growing up. I am so thankful to have spent time in a community of people who were not reticent about making their faith a central and visible part of their lives, a people who were serious about reading and studying the Bible and doing their best to live by it. The adults I knew at my church growing up were joyfully generous with their time, serious about tithing 10% of their income to the church, and unstinting in their love. For the evangelical midwest Baptists I experienced, the words “I’ll pray for you” was a sincere promise, not a subtle insult.
Yes, the “sacred canopy” they constructed was narrow and constraining, overly nervous about secular science and art and intellectual pursuit, and yes, it was necessary for me to leave that tradition in order to grow and thrive in mind and spirit. But growing up Baptist shaped me and directed me in ways I constantly give thanks for: I enjoy sharing my faith; I love teaching scripture; I work to et every part of my life be informed by the gospel.
My years as a Baptist youth was a crucial part of my journey with God, a twisty, rock-strewn path with lots of u-turns and mis-steps. And I wouldn’t trade any of it, because it formed some of the convictions that are as deep as the marrow in my bones.
October 1 was the 100th birthday of Jimmy Carter. His post-presidency years have been defined by works of faith, fidelity, grace, justice, mercy, and love. Teaching Sunday School, battling the global scourge of Guinea Worm, working tirelessly with Habitat for Humanity, and many less famous but just-as-faithful passions. Carter left the Southern Baptist Church 24 years ago for all the right reasons. But his growing up in that tradition helped form the faithful, beautiful human that he has been for over a century.
Those are some of the particulars of my story. How about for you? What are your times or places of pain and sorrow, of constraint and limited options, of being told you can’t fly or be free, that God was able to transform into something of mercy, liberation or peace for you or through you to another?
Think about those transformed rocky times. And give thanks.
Peace, Shalom, Salaam,
Pastor Mitch