First Baptist Church in Memphis

I read a story in the newspaper about a special guest coming to First Baptist Church last Sunday morning. Bert Montgomery, a Baptist minister in Starkville, Mississippi,and a university professor,would be selling copies of his book, preaching in worship and performing a one-man show on Sunday evening. I was curious. I calculated if he teaches in a state school he has to have legitimate academic credentials. Added to my calculation, about the probable value of this event, was my previous experience with First Baptist Church. I heard Kate Campbell sing there one Saturday night a few years ago. I know a few members of the congregation and I like them. None of them have pounded me on the back and tried to drag me to my knees, demanding that I give my life to Jesus Christ. So I put on some nice clothes and went to a Baptist church on Sunday morning.

A banner hung over the door: "A Different Way To Be Baptist." I went through the door and was immediately greeted warmly by a woman who saw to it that I found the sanctuary and a seat. I sat where I have always sat in traditional sanctuaries, on the third pew back from the front and on the aisle. The stained glass windows poured a hopeful glow into the room and softened everything, even my anxiety about feeling so vulnerable. I settled in and enjoyed a familiar sense of belonging.

When the organ began to play my eyes filled with tears. That was the first of several "wet" moments for me during the hour of worship. The first hymn was "Rescue the Perishing" and the words were not updated for political correctness. I could lustily sing along without looking at the hymnbook. The lyrics were set deeply in my memory from childhood. I could feel my mother standing beside me. I could hear her harmony with every verse and I was back in the Church of the Nazarene where I was raised. The music leader looked genuinely happy to be singing and to be leading us and the choir in song. The guest preacher was jovial and his message was clear: "Following Jesus is not an easy thing to do but we do not walk alone."

I was struck by the emphasis on Jesus. Since 1994, I have been part of a church where Jesus is important and social justice is even more important. I have focused so much on matters of social justice that I often forget about the possibility of trusting in the presence and power of Jesus. In the pew at First Baptist Church, with nice maroon carpet under my feet, I liked feeling sheltered and befriended rather than drafted into front-line service. I put cash in the plate when it passed by. And my offering came from a place of genuine desire to support what was happening around me. Everything felt familiar.

The call to commitment felt too familiar and I avoided eye contact with the minister while he stood and invited us to make a decision for Christ. That seemed too old-fashioned, even tacky. That kind of thing was done back when women with blue hair wore little foxes that chased each other around their necks. Altar calls were given when men wore thin ties and big hats. I had far too many wild and ecstatic altar call experiences as a child to feel safe around them now. People whooped, shouted, ran the aisles while waving handkerchiefs and sometimes removing their entire shirts. (Men only, of course.) There were Sunday services when only a few of us remained seated in the pew, watching as the entire congregation whipped up a frenzy-- running around and around the sanctuary. No one at the Baptist Church ripped off their shirts or took off running. I started breathing again when the organ introduced the final hymn.

First Baptist Church is part of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, more theologically progressive than the Southern Baptists and not as socially liberal as the American Baptists or the Alliance of Baptists. Like all Christian denominations, the Baptists have various brands.

I enjoyed my worship experience at First Baptist Church. Although I will most likely not start calling myself a Baptist, I do not mind confessing that it was spiritually rewarding to be with them. It felt like the old days in a new and good way. I truly met Jesus there and gave honor to his life and love.