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.

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.

These buildings were constructed with one purpose in mind – preaching. Preaching is a relatively simple activity. It is singular in focus and defined in its goal. The very structure of these buildings gives testimony to the singular focus and defined goals of their congregations. The proclamation of the Word of God was their aim. There is something refreshing about such simplicity. For those who worshiped in these structures, church meetings were a time to hear the Word proclaimed. They certainly sang hymns together. They prayed together and for one another. However, the primary focus and the defining element of their gatherings was preaching. The architecture of these buildings gives witness to this singular focus. The buildings were built to provide a place for preaching. The furniture is arranged to facilitate preaching. These congregations certainly participated in other activities associated with their ministries, but the testimony of the buildings is that their primary activity was preaching God’s word.

The problem with nostalgic thoughts is they are but sentimental imaginations, not necessarily accurate recollections. These places of worship are simplistic, yes – but perfect, no. There is value in simplicity, yet there is also foolishness in holding to the past out of nostalgia alone. I am thankful that my church in South Georgia, where humidity, heat, and gnats create a summer environment that can wilt a rock, has air-conditioned buildings. With the blessing of air-conditioning comes related aggravations, but these are considered small compared to the unpleasantness of enduring south Georgia’s oppressive heat and humidity.

Years ago, after moving to a new town and a new ministry position, I decided that it would be good to meet the other pastors in the community. One church in the community I recognized was a significant connection to make. This church was of another denomination than my church. Yet, our two churches had historically partnered in community service endeavors because of our proximity to one another and equivalent prominence in the community. Knowing this history, I thought a relationship with this church’s pastor would be beneficial. I called the church and made an appointment. The pastor’s secretary greeted me and escorted me to the pastor’s office when I arrived. I imagined that the pastor would be welcoming, warm, and open to connecting with me. I was unpleasantly surprised.

When I entered his office, his disinterest was apparent, and he seemed annoyed that I had bothered to interrupt his time. I told him who I was and how I hoped we could be good partners for the gospel in our community. To say he was not interested would be a gross understatement. He made it clear that I could do whatever I wanted, but he was not interested in participating. He explained that he was within a year or two of retiring and was biding his time until that day. I was flabbergasted. He was not ashamed nor secretive about his plan. He intended to perform the minimum requirements of his pastoral duties until he could retire and move on to other things.

My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. I enjoy gathering with family, sharing a good meal, and spending the day unencumbered by the regular demands of life. During the Thanksgiving season, we rightly turn our attention to what we are thankful for. When thinking about what we are thankful for, we generally identify things, people, and events that we have received. You might be thankful for a good gift, a good relationship, or an advancement at work. These are certainly worthy of being thankful for, but I think there is something else that we should consider. God certainly blesses and provides by giving good gifts, but He also blesses and provides well by what He says "No" to and what He withholds.

Different eras bring different desires, but the common thread is a desire for what is perceived as better than what you have. When I was a kid, I very much thought that the kids who were growing up in homes that were more affluent than mine had it better. Many of them had parents who were much more accommodating to the desires and wishes of their children. Many of them, though they attended church somewhat regularly, had no problem with spending the weekend at the river or some other activity that seemed so much more exciting than attending Sunday school and worship. I often felt as though the kids who drove nicer cars were more blessed. I was very envious of those who could spend their Sundays skiing while I sat in church. On the issue of church attendance, I employed every argument I could muster to attempt to persuade my parents that missing a Sunday or two would not negatively impact my walk with the Lord. I passionately proclaimed that we were under grace and not under the law. In more desperate moments, I may have even insinuated that my parents were committing the sin of legalism. No matter how passionate I pleaded, their response to my desire to turn my attention away from worship and keeping Sabaoth was “No.” I was not thankful for it then, but the magnitudes of gratitude I feel today are incalculable. There was more grace in what I was not allowed to do than if I had enjoyed the freedoms and provisions I thought were so important.

Preaching the gospel is a strange thing. Observing from a human perspective, it seems rather simple and powerless. And yet, the humble appearance of preaching is in contrast to what Scripture declares it to be. Vested in the humble act of proclaiming the word of Christ is the power to save.

The church we attended while in seminary had a ministry at a local nursing home. They would send someone out each week to conduct Sunday services. Several times I was asked to lead these services and preach. It would just be me and someone who would play the piano. The nursing home staff would assemble the residents in the dining room where I would lead the singing of a hymn then preach. Some of the residents were aware that they were participating in the service, while others were not. Some would grow tired and fall asleep before I finished leading the service. I preached with all the effort and skill that I had but often wondered what real effectiveness or eternal impact I had.

My first solo hospital visit as a pastor did not go as planned. In fact, it went so badly that I hoped that the lady, whom I was visiting, did not remember the visit. I never even told her that I came to see her that day.

I was serving as an associate pastor of a little church while attending seminary. I was primarily responsible for student ministry. But on this occasion, our pastor was out of town, and I was covering the hospital visits. This was to be my first official pastoral visit. Sure, I had visited the hospital before, as well as gone with other pastors on such visits, but this was to be my first solo visit. I had no worries, why should I? Every other such visit I had been a part of seemed easy and tame. How could I have imagined that on that day, my experience would leave an indelible mark on my memory but one I would never reveal to the person I was visiting.