Thank God For These Baptist Churches

It is 13 miles from Hwy 76 to McCaysville along Hwy 60. There are 7 churches 👆within those thirteen miles. That’s a church every 1.8 miles. Best guess, that number doubles or triples if you take side roads. Not all of these are Baptist churches. Some are Church of God, Holiness, Independent, or other.

The steam was creeping up the floor-to-ceiling windows. The clank of plastic plates and din of conversation filled the space with activity. Coffee, eggs, and sweet syrup filled the warm steam and cleared our pores. Will (our seminary intern) and I were grabbing a late breakfast at Waffle House and talking through ministry options. The options were good. Either one would mean Will was in a church culture which tends to be marked by an insecure and fearful belief system; a place where the gospel is needed as much as it is needed in the unchurched culture . . . just like in my Presbyterian context. In the middle of our conversation, Will said something that struck me as thoughtful and helpful: “Thank God for the Baptist churches which pushed into these mountains.”

I say that I believe God has been at work long before I got here. And I do believe that. But there are times that I backslide into the arrogant trap of thinking I’m a sort of rural savior mimicking Mighty Mouse with, “Here I am to save the day!” How crazy is that? Will was right, of course. These small white and brick buildings dotting the landscape are filled with pastors and people trying the best way they know how to learn about Jesus. And I certainly don’t see any Presbyterian churches. The Baptists have been risk takers, pioneers, and willing to pastor for a pittance. Many are multi-vocational, preaching and pastoring simply because they love Jesus. They are here and they are trying. They are here, and have been here, consistently pointing people to Jesus for decades.

A value that I aspire to fully embrace is that I am here for these people; both the churched and the unchurched, the pastor and the parishioner. A great desire of mine is to be able to come alongside what God is already doing, to listen well, and be a help where I can. I’m certainly no savior. To the area pastors I am a fellow pastor.

Occasionally I get to join with other pastors at a monthly breakfast gathering of the Mountaintown Baptist Association. They have warmly welcomed me, fed me (not healthily but heartily . . . which is a funny word in this context), and have been a wealth of knowledge about the area and culture. In some ways they are more connectional than us Presbyterians who profess to be connected. They have a missional pastor who gathers them together and helps resource and encourage them. He is already doing what I hope to do within this Presbyterian mission as the Lord establishes churches in the area.

I have learned much and have much more to learn. Most certainly . . . thank God for these Baptist churches.