Confessions of a Former Fundamentalist
Confessions of a Former Fundamentalist
By C. Truett Baker
Branson, MO
I was raised in a very conservative Southern Baptist family. When I say conservative, my childhood theology lessons would give new meaning to the word, "conservative." At the tender age of seventeen, I decided that God had called me into the ministry and my preacher father`s response to the news was, "I always knew you would, son." In addition to God`s call, it was certainly no disincentive that my father and two older brothers were ministers.
As a young minister and pastor, by the age of eighteen my father was my teacher and guide in learning all the accoutrements of ecclesiastical activity and leadership. I must have done well as some of my parishioners "allowed as how" I might become the next Billy Graham. That just encouraged me to shout louder in the pulpit and stay longer at the altar of prayer. Souls were saved and adult men surrendered to the ministry. Young people vowed to follow in the hallowed steps of Lottie Moon. (My brothers and I were all named after ministerial icons of the past-my wife once remarked that if I had been a girl, my mother would probably have named me Lottie. My mother didn`t think that was funny.)
I eagerly pursued my academic and pastoral goals throughout college and seminary and defended the faith when faced with "liberal" ideas that challenged any of my conservative beliefs. I imagined myself as the spiritual version of the Man of LaMancha, sacrificing myself for the "Impossible Dream" of an orthodox denomination that enthroned the correct beliefs I was taught at the knees of my conservative minister father. I recently read Judge Paul Pressler`s book, A Hill on Which to Die (Broadman and Holman Publishers, 1999). My brother gave me the $29.95 book that he bought from the clearance rack in a bookstore for $1.00. As a young minister, I could have resonated with the sacrificial enthusiasm of that book title. What I may have lacked in the way of reason and knowledge, I made up for in energy and noise.
Between my second and third year of seminary, I took a summer unit of Clinical-Pastoral Education at the Institute of Religion in Houston. For the first time, I found myself outside of the comfortable womb of Southern Baptist orthodoxy and in the midst of some non-Baptist ministers that really irritated me because of their liberalism. They had the unmitigated gall to admit that they had questions about portions of the Bible and our traditional beliefs as Christians. I could hardly contain my anger, and when they questioned the reason for my anger, I carefully explained how important it was for them, as future shepherds of spiritual flocks, to lead their sheep to the green pastures and still waters of correct beliefs. I could brush aside the theory of two Isaiahs and questioning the authorship of the Pentateuch in Old Testament 101, but I couldn`t brush aside those guys who were patient and caring toward my harsh, and sometimes ugly rigidity.
My direction was not changed by this strange encounter, but it was slowed down. Two things happened. I began to try to understand my anger and I began reading some of the authors that were labeled "liberals" from whom I had been earlier "protected." I had been introduced to neo-orthodox theologians in seminary, but I had been forewarned about them and their liberal ideas, and my conservative "switch" just turned them off. It did bother me that men who studied so much about God would not go to heaven.
Two other incidents in seminary life troubled me. New Testament professor Dr. Ray Summers wrote a book about the interpretation of the book of Revelation (Worthy Is the Lamb) in which he explained that much of the book was symbolic and not literal in order to preserve the message during a time of severe persecution of the faithful. Dr. Summers seemed like a godly man. If this part of the Bible contained symbolic language, maybe there were other such sections that likewise should be taken as metaphorical. This experience was at the beginning of my seminary career.
Near the close of that educational experience, I became acquainted with an Old Testament and Hebrew professor at Midwestern Seminary, Dr. Ralph Elliott. He wrote a book about the interpretation of the first book of the Bible-Genesis (The Message of Genesis, Broadman Press, 1961). He explained that the world may not have been created in seven 24-hour days as we count time today and that the creation stories may not be literal. I remember the storm that followed until the time that Dr. Elliott was fired. I don`t remember many details about his "liberal" theology, but I remember the attitude of the man. He began class every day with prayer and prayed for those who accused him, as well as the students and faculty and the denomination. Never did he lash out at his many accusers or be less than a dignified Christian gentleman. That impressed me as a young ministerial student far more than the diatribes, subterfuge, lies, and darts thrown by the fundamentalists. My conservative shell was beginning to crack and the "hammer" was not so much the questionable theology as it was the contrast in attitude and spiritual depth between the two groups. I thought the moderates, or liberals as Judge Pressler chooses to call us, had more of the "mind of Christ," and I wanted that.
Back to the books. I read a great deal but only from the approved Baptist "formulary." The unspoken rule was, "read only those authors who believe like you do." My need for things to make sense and my curiosity to know the basis for "liberalism" led me to read other themes and authors. Some of the authors included Philip Yancy, Jim Wallis, Carlyle Marney, Marcus Borg, Karen Armstrong, William Sloane Coffin, Bill Leonard, Grady Cothen, and Henri Nouwen. These were men and women who loved God and devoted their lives to serving him. Their temperament was not mean, vindictive, nor accusative of those who didn`t believe as they did. They deeply believed the Bible was the Word of God without believing it was 100% literal. Even in some circumstances, literalness distracted from the spiritual message of passages.
There were many isolated circumstances that troubled my young fundamentalist mind in the early years, things that just didn`t make sense. I could not accept the simple reply that "we must just accept by faith those things we don`t understand." When my father was pastor of the Baptist Temple in Iola, Kansas, he once discovered he didn`t have unleavened bread for the Lord`s Supper, which was to be served that morning at church. He frantically called several deacons to see if any knew how to make unleavened bread. I innocently asked him why he couldn`t use broken soda crackers. His reply was that it must be with the same substances that Jesus used. The six-year old boy then made the mistake of asking, "Why then wasn`t wine used instead of grape juice?" His explanation didn`t make sense and he became angry and said, "My Lord would never put a drop of alcohol to his holy lips." I knew something wasn`t right even at that early age.
The other occasion was during the 1960s civil rights movement. As a young pastor, I was troubled by the fact that we sent missionaries to Africa to save souls, but after being saved, the Africans couldn`t attend our universities to prepare for ministry or join our churches. This made no sense to me and created many doubts about the rightness of our conservative cause.
I believe the shove that pushed me completely into the moderate camp was the fundamentalist take-over of the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC). There have always been the Presslers and Pattersons around who have wanted to do away with diversity and pluralism in SBC life, but never had there been a time when the majority of Southern Baptist allowed them to do this. The two "P`s" can`t be totally blamed for the division and damage to the SBC. We Southern Baptists allowed this to happen by our shallow discipleship training (if any was done at all), our long-standing distrust of theological education, and our apathy. Bill Moyers was right when he wrote to Dr. Presnall Wood of the Baptist Standard. "Paul Pressler is only what he is allowed to be. Christian indignation should cause every principled Baptist in any position of leadership to declare that the man has gone too far" (Letter to Baptist Standard Editor, July 5, 1990). We didn`t stop him or even slow him down.
Also, we allowed the "rugged western individualism" to creep into our theology and polity by way of Landmark-ism and Freewill-ism. This mentality made personal choice and experience the sole determination of God`s will and left little or no room for the voice of the Holy Spirit through the collective voice of the church. It was the church in Antioch that called out Paul and Barnibas for ministry. Licensing and ordination were formalities that Southern Baptists used to express the church`s collective blessing. And so we sent thousands of ministers out to lead churches with education than ranged from the eighth grade to seminary. In the beginning, the SBC was made up mostly of rural churches with pastors who had little education-some were bi-vocational. The educated ministers were viewed with suspicion. No doubt some were arrogant, which didn`t speak well for an educated clergy.
Perhaps some of the blame needs to be directed toward a denominational polity that allowed teen-age boys (I was one of them) to be pastors, but disallows the suitability of mature, trained women to be pastors. Another one of those "don`t-make-sense" issues.
This journey has been painful but revealing. I have learned many things that have brought a long sought-after peace. My love for the scriptures has been deepened as has my love and devotion to Christ. I believe that love is more important than law, but law has its place in God`s revelation to us. I believe grace is more important than sin, but sin is a reality we cannot ignore. More than ever, I believe in freedom and I value the freedom of others.
I still don`t have all the answers (like I did as a troubled fundamentalist), but I am at peace with the light that God has given me. He may have spoken words to others that I don`t understand, but that doesn`t make the others wrong. I am humbled by the light that God has given me, and I want for others to know the joy of living in the light of their own understanding.
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Truett Baker is an ordained Baptist minister and for fifty-two years has had training and experience in pastoral ministry and Christian social ministry
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