Last week, the Southern Baptist Convention held its Annual Meeting. Gathering in New Orleans, LA, there were nearly 19,000 in attendance. Of these, 12,737 were registered messengers (messengers are similar to delegates) from 4,423 churches. During the two days of meetings, the messengers worked through a packed schedule that included changes to the doctrinal statement of the Convention and a constitutional amendment, among many other things. Southern Baptists are unique in that we have our debates over critical issues in public with the opportunity of any registered messengers to speak. This does not always make for flattering soundbites in the news and sometimes leads outside observers to think that we are contentious and in constant conflict. For those who attend the meetings and participate in the decisions, even in greatly debated issues, we generally depart the annual meeting more encouraged in the work and cooperation of the SBC. Below are some of the more significant decisions of the messengers to this year’s annual meeting.

One of the occupational hazards of being a pastor is sometimes your words come back to you. Pastors talk a lot. Pastors often give counsel. Pastors instruct, teach, and preach. With all this talking, there are many directives and admonitions given. And so, it is not uncommon for someone to start a conversation with me with the words, “Pastor, you said.”

In the past week, this has happened twice. One was a comment made without recognizing that they were rebuking me, and the other was a direct and clear corrective word. Both were received as precious blessings and profound encouragements.

Last night my church gathered for communion and a meal. It was an especially sweet time of fellowship as we gave attention to the cost and sacrifice paid for our sin. I was struck by the contradictory emotions of the evening. We grieved that it was our sin that Jesus suffered and died for, and yet we rejoiced that He gave such a sacrifice that we might live. We rejoiced in the precious gift of forgiven sin and eternal life, yet we grieved over those we know and love who remain under the wrath of God. We found great comfort in our kinship in Jesus, yet we longed for others to join us at the table. I was reminded that the cross is both a testimony of grief and joy for Christians.

This Sunday is Palm Sunday, the day we remember the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. The crowd excitedly welcomed him because they hoped he was a king like the rulers of man. But Jesus was not coming to Jerusalem to topple Rome; He was coming to destroy death. He was not arriving to respond to political grievances but to satisfy the wrath of God. He was not coming to comfort us with platitudes but to confront our sin on the cross with His own body and blood.

It may be that the most important element of effective communication is repetition, even while it is the most unappreciated. We tend to arrogantly claim that we only need to hear things once. When a parent repeats an instruction, children roll their eyes. When a boss repeats a familiar command, employees complain that it is superfluous. When a teacher reviews material already taught, students complain they already know the material. We tend to believe we can receive information or commands and never again need a reminder or renewed encouragement.

Recently while in a local retail store, two employees walked by my daughter and me while conversing. As they did, we could not help but hear their conversation. It was laced with the most vulgar and crude language. They showed no concern that my daughter or I heard what they were saying. A few weeks ago, a parent at my wife’s school met with his child’s teachers. During the meeting, he used crude and horribly offensive language within earshot of his children. Apparently, he saw nothing inappropriate about this. It seems everyone s cussing these days. A few years ago, The Hill published an article, “Why lawmakers are cursing more now more than ever.” It once would have been politically disastrous for a politician to be heard cursing in public and career-ending to use such language in any official capacity. But in the last few years, everyone from city hall to the White House seems to be using R-rated language. There have even been a few pastors who gained notoriety (infamy) for using curse words in their sermons. Something has dramatically changed.

When I mention the growing ubiquity and common usage of swear words, my children often respond with an eye-roll and say something along the lines of “this is the world we live in.” It is the world they have grown up in, but I remember when it was not so. This is not to say that cussing is a new phenomenon, for it has always been part of a fallen world. Part of the sinful rebellion of man is to use the glorious God-given ability to communicate and express ourselves with words and pervert it with curses and crude words. The phrase “cuss like a sailor” has a long history. In 1699 Cotton Mather said of sailors in a sermon about the fear of God, “Is not the sin of profane swearing and cursing, become too notorious among our sailors? Filthy speaking, bawdy speaking, unclean and obscene ribaldry is too commonly heard in the mouths of sailors.” The difference between the days of the puritans, my own childhood, and the present is that in the past, such “obscene ribaldry” was understood to be obscene and actively hidden from polite society.

It is never good when a pastor gives one of his church members a black eye. Let me tell you the story about the time I did just that and what I learned from the experience.

Though I have never been that good at it, I have long enjoyed playing racquetball. My enjoyment of the game started early in that my home church had a gym that included a racquetball court that allowed me to start playing at a very young age.

In recent years I have enjoyed playing regularly with my friend Richard. When I started playing with Richard, it had been a long time since I had played, and I was very much out of shape and offered no competitive challenge to him. It had been so long since I had played that I had to purchase new equipment. Racquetball requires little equipment other than a racket, balls, and goggles. However, when I went to the store to pick up the needed equipment, I did not buy goggles.

I recently read that the average length of service for pastors in Protestant churches in America is about four years. If accurate, it makes sense why so much of the advice to pastors concerning church leadership seems to be directed to the early years of ministry. From seminary professors to denominational leaders, I have often heard encouragements to pursue a long pastoral tenure. These encouragements often included descriptions of the benefits that come from long tenures. In last week's blog post, I wrote on eight blessings I have experienced after pastoring Central Baptist Church for over ten years. But I have also discovered that having pastored here for more than a decade has also brought some burdens. Here are three burdens that have come from pastoring Central Baptist Church over ten years.

A successful pastorate is as much dependent on the church as it is on the pastor. Since 2012 I have been privileged to pastor Central Baptist Church in Waycross, GA. There have been seasons of great joy and great sorrow, but there has not been a day I was not thankful for this fellowship. Recently, I have been reflecting on how pastoral ministry differs once you pass the 10-year point. Below are my observations of eight blessings that have come from pastoring CBC over ten years.

The first Christmas of the war came five months after the war began. As soldiers sat in their wet and muddy trenches, they anticipated that Christmas day would come and go as so many days before had been spent. However, as darkness fell over the battlefield on Christmas Eve, British soldiers began to hear singing. The German soldiers were singing Christmas carols. The British soldiers heard familiar melodies emanating across the battle-scarred earth where so many had died, and some corpses still lay where they fell. They listened. Some even added their voice to the strange choir. Singing would lead to invitations, and miraculously the soldiers eventually climbed out of their muddy holes and met one another in "No Man's Land," to celebrate Christmas together. There were handshakes, sharing of cigarettes and cigars, and most importantly, a momentary pause in the exchange of gunfire. Diaries and letters to loved ones back home told of makeshift Christmas trees being erected and decorated, soccer games, and other joint activities in stark contrast to the context and location. The momentary relief from the prosecution of war also allowed both sides to collect their dead.

One of the common experiences of growing up in a Baptist church in the south was hearing preachers tell stories of their recent evangelistic conversations. The stories would generally begin with the preacher telling how he met someone in a restaurant or on a plane. The stories tended to have similar arcs. They would begin by describing the other person as someone the preacher was unlikely to run into in their daily activities. The conversation was begun with an intriguing question and eventually ended with the person praying to receive Christ as their savior. At their best, these stories were intended to encourage the church to take every opportunity to share Jesus wherever they went and with whomever they encountered. At their worst, these stories were thinly veiled boasts of spiritual greatness and had the effect of creating the feeling of inferiority and ineptitude in those listening in the pews. I genuinely believe the stories were true, yet I suspect the presentation was skewed. Skewed, in that, intended or not, the way these stories were told seemed to communicate that every conversation the preacher had ended in a successful conversion story. I doubt that was the reality for the preachers of my youth, and it has certainly not been true for me in my experience.

I do try to take every opportunity to share Jesus wherever I go and with whomever I encounter. This has indeed led to unexpected opportunities to share Jesus with strangers. And I have experienced great joy when these encounters have led to someone confessing in faith Jesus as their Lord. But the truth is that most of these encounters have not ended in a sermon illustration-worthy confession of faith but rather a rejection of my plea to come and know Jesus. What follows is the account of just such an encounter and how it has changed how I think about evangelism.

The spoken word is powerful. There is power in speaking a name. There is power in speaking a declarative statement. There is power in asking a question. God created man with the ability to formulate and express thoughts with words. We know God through His word, and we express ourselves to God through words in prayer. Our relationship with one another is developed by the words that we speak. The spoken word can be glorious in that it can encourage, inform, bring joy, and heal. The spoken word can also be destructive in that it can discourage, deceive, and wound. With our words, we can enlighten or confuse, bless or curse, build up or tear down, encourage or demoralize.

The ability to express thoughts and emotions through speech is part of being made in the image of God. God is one who speaks. God spoke all things into existence. The third verse of the Bible begins with the words, “and God said.” With these words, God declared what was good and pleasing. Later God gave testimony to Himself through the words of the law. And finally, Hebrews tells us, “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world.” And our God who speaks, by His command, created man in His image with the glorious gift of expressive speech.

This past week about 11.4 million people in the U.S. and 32.5 million in Britain tuned in to watch the funeral services of Queen Elizabeth II. There was much in the ceremony that was connected to the symbols and trappings of royalty but what I found most encouraging was how much scripture was read throughout the proceedings.

I had a college professor who often encouraged junior classmen to attend graduation ceremonies even if they had no personal connection with graduates. He reasoned that attending the ceremony of those who had completed their studies would be a need encouragement to those who were still pursuing their degree. Freshmen enjoy the enthusiasm associated with starting something new. Sophomores are still working through the basic core classes. Juniors are working through the more rigorous classes in their chosen major. They no longer have the excitement of freshmen, and they may not yet have the clarity of purpose of seniors. Attending the commencement ceremonies helps give clarity to the purpose and goal of their academic pursuits. In a grander way, funerals help to provide clarity to the pursuit and goal of our lives. Funerals can be stressful and emotionally difficult, but I think they are important to the church's witness.

I like consistency. I run the same route every day for my morning run. I know the exact places on the course where I will hit distance goals. I know the houses where there are dogs and which ones bark, which ones will come out to meet me, and which ones just watch me run by. I know where the pavement is uneven and where it is smooth. The consistency of running the same route and learning all these details allows me to give little attention to where I am and where I am going. It allows me the freedom to just enjoy the run because the details of the route, distance, and road hazards are so well known they require little notice.

The familiarity provided by consistency also allows me to focus on other things. I have employed prayer prompts for many years to remind me to pray for certain things. Prayer prompts are places and things that remind you to pray for a specific need when you see them or pass them by. Once, a pastor asked me to pray for an issue his family was facing. So, every morning when I ran past his home, I prayed for him and his family. Over the years, the specifics of what I pray as changed. But every morning, as I run down his road, I still pray for him, his family, and his church.

There are two opposing kinds of workers. The first kind often looks like they are not giving much effort to their work. They get their job done and are good at what they do, but because of the appearance of the lack of effort, some judge their job as easy in comparison to others. The second kind often looks overworked, overstressed, and working very hard. They, too, get their job done, but because of the effort and stress required, many judge their job as more burdensome than others.

This summer, my parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. My sister Abbie, and I, along with our spouses and children, traveled to Columbus for the celebration. Everything about the weekend was joyful and good. On Saturday night we enjoyed a meal together with all the family. Afterward, we gathered at the house and played a video for my parents of good wishes from many of their friends. On Sunday, I had the privilege of teaching my dad's Sunday school class; then, we packed a pew for Sunday worship. After church, we took lots of family pictures. Every moment of the weekend was joy-filled.

During the weekend I looked at my parents' wedding photos. In the pictures, they are young, fresh-faced, and smiling. Though it is hard to think of your parents as being other than how you have known them, I know enough to know that the young couple in the photos had no clue what the years ahead would bring. In the photos, they are all smiles and youthful glee. Their faces show no signs of worry, and their smiles look genuinely carefree. There is one particular photo that captured my attention. It was the photo of the moment my parents emerged from the church to leave for their honeymoon. All the wedding guests had lined up beside the door to wish them well as they ran to the car. It was the tradition then to throw rice at departing couples, but because my dad worked for a peanut company, the guests through peanuts. The photo captures the moment of glee just after the covenant making and before the covenant keeping. Peanuts are in the air. Their smiles seem more part of who they are than momentary expressions as they dodge the flying legumes. They were husband and wife, happy to be united in marriage and excited to begin their life together. The photo perfectly captures that most joyful moment.

Therapy is excruciating. My therapist's personality is light-hearted and jovial. The treatment room is an open area allowing for patients to interact with one another. His personality and approach to his work create a happy and enjoyable atmosphere. The other therapist and staff are kind and gracious. In the treatment room, there is often much laughter. And under different circumstances, time spent in the treatment room would be much enjoyed. However, my therapy primarily consists of the therapist moving my hand up and down, side to side, and back and forth from one eye-watering pain point to another. Sometimes it hurts so bad I cannot carry on a conversation. Sometimes the pain is so intense I cannot remain seated. While the therapist holds and manipulates my hand, I wiggle and squirm every other part of my body, trying to endure the insufferable pain.

We spend so much effort trying to avoid pain and discomfort; why would I willfully go to a place where I know I will experience pain? My therapist was honest about what therapy would require; knowing this, I still make appointments, willfully attend my appointments, and even gladly pay for the services. Each session is painful and difficult, yet at the end, I genuinely thank the very person who has caused me to suffer for the past hour. To willfully pursue pain and discomfort is counterintuitive. To continue to pursue pain and discomfort is contrary to our normal avoidance of such things. So why have I been going to physical therapy and intend to continue to do so? I do so because I have faith that my therapist has the knowledge and ability to bring healing and restoration to my wrist. I have confidence that though he presently inflicts pain, his work has a purpose and will result in my wrist being able to move and bend as it did before the break. I put my hand into his, trusting that as he bends my wrist well beyond what is comfortable, he is working for my good and betterment.

Cell service in my office is spotty, and my calls are often dropped. Sometimes when this happens, I am unaware until I end a sentence and wait for the other person to respond and only hear silence. Not sure if they are in thought, still waiting on me to say something else, or no longer on the line, I ask, "are you still there"? I know that I have been talking to myself when this question is met with more silence.

You may have been wondering if I am still here. It has been over a month since I have written a blog post or sent out an email. My lack of activity has not been for lack of desire but rather circumstances not entirely of my choosing.

Next week, the Southern Baptist Convention will hold our Annual Meeting. On Tuesday and Wednesday, thousands of Southern Baptists will gather in Anaheim, California, to make decisions concerning the direction of the denomination. To the outside observer, the Annual Meeting of the SBC is often misunderstood. The SBC is unlike other denominations that are governed through hierarchical authority. The SBC is comprised of over 47,000 autonomous churches that have cooperated to advance global and North American missions, theological education, and other related ministries. We voluntarily associate and are bound together by our cooperative support of missions and our adherence to the Baptist Faith and Message 2000, which is our doctrinal statement.

Each cooperating church can send messengers (similar to a delegate) to the Annual Meeting. The ultimate authority and control of the convention rest with the messengers. There are many advantages to this governance structure, not the least of which is that the messengers can act contrary to the denominational leadership when corrective action is needed. However, the messenger model also means that our disagreements, deliberations, and discussions are all done publicly. In a world where many get their news from social media, these open debates often overshadow the actual final decision of the messengers.

It was early one Sunday morning while we were still at home getting ready for church. First Baptist Church of Jacksonville services was on our TV, and Mac Brunson was preaching. Molly said to me as she watched Brunson preach, "Dad, what you need to do is write down everything that he says and just preach that." I guess she recognized that his preaching was better than anything she had seen me do. I was a little wounded and asked her what she thought the difference was between his preaching and mine. Her response was simple and direct. She said, "Well, he is a pro."

And with that, a family joke was born. I told the story of our conversation during my sermon later that morning at church (watch the video here) and have told it many times since. Since then, whenever someone in our family wants to acknowledge someone's achievement, they call them a pro. Likewise, whenever someone recognizes a personal shortcoming, they say, "I'm not a pro." So, by the summer of 2016, being or not being a pro was a well-established family trope.