How I Became a Baptist

Because they're not born, even when they are

It was probably a Baptist who came up with the truism, “God doesn’t have grandkids.” The idea is a particularly baptistic one, I feel (although come to think of it, I first heard it from someone in the Brethren tradition). Essentially the idea is that if being a Christian makes you a child of God, you can’t be born into the family, you have to be “adopted in,” and…to complete the Baptist part of this whole thing…be baptized at an age of consent. (There is debate about what age that exactly is. I was ten.)

So even though I am the daughter and granddaughter of Baptist ministers, I’ve never really identified specifically as a Baptist. When I “asked Jesus into my heart” at four years old, it was because I was asking Jesus, not baptistness. When I got baptized, it was because I loved and wanted to demonstrate my commitment to Jesus (and also because then I could finally partake of the grape juice that got served during communion, which was forbidden fruit up until that point). When I formally became a member of my church, it was because, well, I was already going there and I wanted to be able to participate more fully in it.

After some church shopping during my freshman year in college, I did end up going to a Baptist church for most of my student years. But when I moved to London, I was placed with, and ultimately transferred my membership to, a URC with a decidedly charismatic/pentecostal bent. And since then I have belonged to and participated in an Episcopal church and a liberal-progressive UCC-like church near where I currently live. My training as a spiritual director was with the Anglicans, and my training as a chaplain was through two different organizations, both of which trained me in interfaith chaplaincy.

By the time both of those trainings were underway, so was the Pilgrimage, which I had already conceived would be distinctly Jesus-centered, but otherwise I had no desire to tie it to a particular denomination at all. So when I was invited to apply to pastor Central Baptist (after first dismissing the idea), I sent a cover letter with my resumé and doctrinal statement, explaining that while I hadn’t intended to pastor a church at all, I really liked this one and would be honored to pastor it, I would do so only on the condition that I not have to join the American Baptists.

This condition was not because I necessarily had anything against the American Baptists (although I will confess that they were the “mainline” Baptists I had been obliquely warned about in younger years). I didn’t want or intend to join any denomination at all (now that I had found an organization that would certify me as a chaplain without denominational endorsement). I was satisfied that I could pastor this tiny Baptist church according to Baptist beliefs and practices because for the most part I still held to them. (Although there was that one time shortly after beginning my pastorate when I hung a crucifix on the pulpit to make a point…) I understood the purpose behind denominations, but in my experience all of them had something to recommend them and all of them had something to…not…recommend them. By this point I had come to be suspicious of denominations as being somewhat restrictive, and I believed—and generally still believe—that they are becoming less helpful and relevant. Mostly I take “following Jesus” pretty literally (in spite of not being able to physically see Him), and will head anywhere I think He’s going if He’s inviting me along. I didn’t want to be tied down.

Central Baptist Church was willing to consider me even without my jumping through denominational hoops since I had a seminary degree and a pretty robust doctrinal statement to give them—and I was already known to one family there. Then they congregationally ordained me in May 2019. That service was by far more meaningful to me than a “by the book” one would have been. They were the congregation who made me a pastor, who even made me consider being a pastor. I was glad it came from God through them specifically.

Then about three years ago I got invited to join the board of directors for TABCOM, The American Baptist Churches Of Massachusetts. I thought that was hilarious, since I wasn’t even a member of the denomination. But the offer was serious, and so after praying about it for a while and not feeling a strong pull or resistance either way, I decided, “Why not?” and signed on.

And that’s how I found out that the hype I’d heard about the range of theological and social convictions in the denomination really was as broad as I’d been told, and that there really was the racial and ethnic diversity in the leadership that was important to me. And that also, I kind of liked these people. (Admittedly, it’s rare for me not to like people once I have a chance to get to know them.) I talked to a couple of people about the Pilgrimage and they liked it and thought I could get greater traction with it within the ABC if I had “standing” in our association.

So at the beginning of the year, just before my term on the Board expired and even more shortly before I would tender my resignation than I knew, I asked the Executive Minister, “Would it be worth my seeking standing in the denomination even though I’m going to be leaving my congregation within the year? I want to keep the Pilgrimage denominationally independent, but could it be considered more of a resource for TABCOM if I had standing in the denomination?”

Thus began my process of “seeking standing,” which might conclude a couple of weeks before my resignation at Central Baptist takes effect. During this process I had to read a book called Baptist Ways. I thought it was going to be mind numbing, but actually it was quite fascinating and comprehensive. In it, I found stories of other renegade people trying to follow Jesus wherever He led, sometimes in groups, sometimes forging out on their own.

I realized that I got here—to formalizing my relationship with the denomination I had been pastoring within for six years—entirely backwards, and probably the most Baptist way possible. And that they were probably the only denomination who would let me in. It was an epiphany along the lines of “do I want to be a Baptist? Not necessarily. But I don’t think I am or can be anything else.” (Okay, I mean, besides a follower of Jesus which I still feel is my identity baseline. But as for the kind of follower. Well, I guess it’s Baptist.)

The term Baptist carries a lot of weight…if by “weight” you mean “baggage.” It seems like daily there are new reports of misogyny and clergy sexual abuse by Southern Baptist pastors—or reports about the sobering effects of these sins. To be fair to myself, I couldn’t join that denomination right now. But they wouldn’t take me anyway—I’m an ordained woman. American Baptists have historically done a much better job with social justice (and if the books I read recently are right, have also retained the traditionally Baptist distinctives better than the Southern ones), but Baptistic theology also has risks and challenges of divisiveness like this, due to its renegade roots (and adherents, probably, if I’m in any way representative). There are other traditions I sometimes think it would be “cooler” to be, but then again, not everyone has to be the trunk of the tree. Branches without a trunk might be dead but…a trunk without branches is probably dead, too. I think we need all of the Christian traditions in the tree, and I guess I’m finally ready to acknowledge where I (at least mostly) fit.