What is the Baptist approach to public issues? We all know there isn’t one—there are many perspectives!

The joke that wherever there are three Baptists there are four opinions may reflect on our notorious disunity. But it also points to a dearly-held Baptist distinctive, the freedom of conscience.

Here’s one Baptist’s opinion on some principles we ought to bring to public issues.

The commonwealth of God

God’s desire is for all to live in a new order of relationships as a result of being transformed by Jesus Christ. So we must engage with public issues. God’s new order is not just ‘vertical’ but ‘horizontal’ in scope.

Justice

God is a God of justice and mercy, valuing every person infinitely. God expects us to treat others fairly but also forgives those who repent.  This restorative justice balances judgement and grace. It calls us, in our engagement with public issues, to discern when to punish evil and when to show mercy. 

Defending the poor and weak

Justice involves actively taking the side of those who will be crushed by the powerful. It is not biased—that is, it is fair—but it does take sides.

Peace

We follow the man who called us to love our enemies. We Baptists like to think we are returning to New Testament Christianity, but so far few of us have taken up the non-violent call of Jesus. We are also called to pursue reconciliation as a way of life. In Australia the central issue in this regard is that of indigenous reconciliation.

Religious toleration

The first Baptists in 17th century England suffered under state religion and lived and died for religious freedom. I hope Baptists today don’t forget this. I hope that even when we disagree with others we will fight for their right to believe what they do. Some Christians are talking these days as if Muslims have no right to practise their religion in Australia—but we Baptists can never take this line and be true to our heritage.

We must remember that, combined with the early Baptists’ freedom of conscience was a strong commitment to discern the will of God together as a congregation. 

Separation of church and state

Related to freedom of religion is the Baptist belief that the state should not interfere with the way we practise our faith. In order to remain free, we may find we need to turn down government support for our schools or welfare programs.

This does not mean, however, that we don’t engage in public issues. Baptist churches, their state unions and the Baptist Union of Australia ought to hammer out the policies we believe flow from our Christian commitment. And then we ought to argue our case in the marketplace of ideas. 

We will be most effective when we are united as Baptists or, even better, as Christians, or even better again, alongside citizens of goodwill.

So Baptists differ from their historical cousins, the Anabaptists, who tried to withdraw from society. Like the Evangelicals of 19th century England, along with our enthusiasm for evangelism we have a history of social engagement as well. 

I’ll be delighted if other Baptists share this position, but I also welcome some good old Baptist debate on it.

I have just returned from a visit to Burma (Myanmar) that gave me hope for the country as it begins to emerge from decades of military dictatorship, violent conflict, isolation and poverty.  It also reinforced my admiration for the Christian minority, who are preparing to play a significant part in Burma’s path towards justice and reconciliation.

Both in Burma and in the Mae La refugee camp over the border in Thailand, I asked everyone I met what changes they’d noticed and how they felt about them.  I was sceptical, knowing that the military still controls the parliament, that there is still fighting in Kachin State, that there are still political prisoners, and that there are hardly any noticeable changes yet in health, education and the dilapidated infrastructure.  There is a Karen ceasefire which has held for twelve months, but no negotiated settlement yet.

But there is a palpable sense of hope and expectation.  I sensed the opening up of a civic space that wasn’t there five years ago.  I was told often that this space—along with an open internet and the proliferation of mobile phones—would be very difficult to control or close down.  Aung San Suu Kyi, once under house arrest, is now a vocal parliamentarian.  The strings around the economy are being loosened.

When US President Barack Obama visited Burma in November, many Christians were present when he addressed civic groups and strongly encouraged them on their road towards freedom.  He said, “You, the citizens of this country, are the ones who must define what freedom means”.  The Christian leaders I spoke to responded positively to this, knowing they will need to play their part in the name of Christian freedom.

Despite the fact that most Christians in Burma are from marginalised ethnic groups such as the Karen, Chin and Kachin, they are vigorous and dedicated.  (It is worth noting that Burmese Baptists outnumber Australian Baptists by a factor of four or five.)  I taught at the Myanmar Institute of Theology, a Baptist graduate school of a thousand students.  MIT teaches in English in order to connect with the wider world, especially global Christianity, but has a strong focus on developing a contextual faith.  Most of its professors have earned overseas doctorates, achieved against all odds.  As an example, the Pastoral Studies professor, Rev Dr Si Khia, is currently doing his PhD at Whitley College.

I was invited to give lectures on different dimensions of Christian mission, including justice-seeking, peacemaking and reconciliation.  While I could open up biblical and theological perspectives on these topics, I could not suggest how they should play out in the context of Burma.  Only local Christians can do this.

It was a privilege to listen to the discussion.  At the Baptist Bible College in Mae La refugee camp Christians are debating when it will be safe for refugees to return to Burma, and what contribution they will make when the time comes. 

As I write, Whitley’s Principal, Rev Dr Frank Rees, is addressing a Global Karen Youth Mission Conference in Thailand near the Burmese border, where a thousand young Karen refugees from around the world will grapple with similar questions.

The students I met are also discussing what active citizenship means for Christians in a country where until recently you were thrown into prison for it.  The separation of church and state is a much-valued Baptist principle, but, as a result, many Christians in Burma have kept their nose totally out of politics and national affairs.  They are now grappling with Jeremiah’s call to “seek the shalom of the city” (and the village) (Jer 29:7).  They are embracing a holistic view of the mission of God which includes welcoming the justice and peace of God’s kingly reign.  Many will need to learn from scratch the arts of democratic engagement.  (How fortunate they were to come across a veteran street protester such as me! Maybe ...)

Most of all, they recognise that reconciliation is at the heart of mission and also a central task for their country once hostilities cease.  They speak of the message of reconciliation (2 Cor 5:19) which is God’s Good News to all, but also of our ministry of reconciliation (2 Cor 5:18), in which Christians are ambassadors of peace in their lives.  Burma has a long way to go before the people trust the government and the country’s ethnic and religious tensions are overcome.

The last fifty years have been extremely difficult for Christians in Burma.  Many have fled, to work for change from over the border or overseas.  Many have hung on at home, some keeping their head low and others getting it knocked off if they raise it. 

This new phase in national life, while full of hope, will require faith, courage and skill.  I sense that Burmese Christians are poised to make a significant contribution to their nation.  I’m sure they will appreciate the ongoing support and prayers of Victorian Baptists.

Ross Langmead teaches mission studies at Whitley College and is a member at Westgate Baptist Community, which has close links with both Karen and Chin churches largely consisting of refugees.

It is difficult to sum up what is distinctive about Baptists. On the one hand they can be characterised as a non-conformist, Protestant Evangelical denomination with a congregational structure and an identity built on adult-believers’ baptism. On the other, Baptists come in many varieties, from fundamentalism to liberalism, from strong evangelists to social reformers, from megachurches to the occasional Baptist monastery. And all of these differences are found in Australian history.

This two volume work is the first substantial history of Australian Baptists and is a fine example of good historical writing.  Ken Manley has chosen just the right balance between careful documentation of events and people, and a broader analysis of the meaning of those events and how they relate to the social changes going on around them.  It combines scholarly rigour with readability.

The last book over 850 pages I read from beginning to end with real interest and without flagging was John Harris’s One Blood: 200 Years of Aboriginal Encounter with Christianity (1990), and there are some similarities.  Not only, in both cases, did the quality of the writing keep me reading with pleasure. In both books I also felt at times attracted to, and at times ashamed of, those about whom I was reading — in the first book Australian missionaries and in the second book that fractious lot called Baptists.

I’m allowed to say that Baptists argue often, because I am a Baptist.  I should also declare that I came to this book already with an appreciation for Ken Manley’s passion as a historian and teacher because he was for many years Principal of Whitley College, where I teach.

This is, as Manley says in the preface, an insider’s history of a denomination, but Manley doesn’t try to spin it positively or airbrush away the failings of those who went before.

He brings a uniquely broad experience to his task, as he taught history in Baptist theological colleges in three states (South Australia, New South Wales and Victoria) and has served as a Vice President of the Baptist World Alliance.  This magnum opus was years in the writing, and is the culmination of his work as a historian.

What does that intriguing title, From Woolloomooloo to ‘Eternity’, mean?  Woolloomooloo Bay was the site of the first baptisms in 1832 by the first Baptist minister to come to Australia, John McKaeg.  And ‘Eternity’ is the word written secretly, perhaps half a million times in chalk on pavements across the city of Sydney, by Baptist layman Arthur Stace after the Second World War — two significant examples of distinctive Baptist presence in Australia.

Manley divides Australian Baptist history into the periods before and after the First World War, with a volume for each.  In each volume he covers events and people more or less chronologically in one large section and then covers themes in another large section.

The themes in the first volume include the seeking of an identity as a minority denomination; the role of women, leaders and youth; and social issues.  The themes in the second volume include Baptist enthusiasm for global mission; a changing identity since the 1960s; more recent social issues; conservatism and radicalism; and leadership and training developments. Manley finishes with  reference to the global Baptist identity, indigenous issues and the changing shape of mission.

The picture that comes through clearly in Manley’s work is of an energetic, passionate minority, struggling for identity and, at times, respectability.  I despaired as I read how often their independence of mind led to splits, heated arguments and refusal to co-operate.

Baptists reflect Australia’s federalism, in that being Baptist is much more a state-based identity than a national one.  On almost any issue — from the ordination of women to admitting members who have been baptised as infants elsewhere — Baptists have differed from one end of the country to the other.

I was sorry to read that in my city, Melbourne, as early as 1850 there was already a Baptist church in Collins St and a breakaway church in nearby Albert St.  This pattern repeats itself, accounting for a certain divisive spirit and certainty in doctrinal matters that seems to hamper the sharing of the Good News that is so close to the heart of Baptists and other Evangelicals.

I was surprised to discover that while Baptist churches have never been regarded as mainstream or ‘establishment’, many successful Baptist leaders, more often than not lay members, played significant roles in building Australia.

The quest for an identity at three levels, as Australians, Australian Christians and Australian Baptists seems to have been a lively one.  Manley suggests that Baptists are now less sectarian and would now more readily echo Charles Wesley’s vision in which “names and sects and parties fall” and “thou, O Christ, art all in all”.  I agree that many Baptists identify more as Evangelicals than as Baptists, and others go further in their ecumenism and seek to identify simply as ‘Christian’.

Baptists are noted for their passion for mission.  As Manley shows, in the past it has largely meant ‘evangelism’ but now is likely to include all dimensions of God’s gracious reign.  The more recent changes he charts so carefully are crucial, it seems to me, when it comes to the way Baptists relate in mission to those around them, both in Australia and globally.  Will Baptists retain the image of strident conservatives or will they find new and different ways of being a believers’ church in a largely post-Christian society?

This not only makes for fine reading but I am sure will become a standard text for understanding Australian Baptists and their approach to mission.

[Adapted from a review published in the Australian Journal of Mission Studies, Vol. 1, No. 1 (June 2007): 53–54.]

Manley, Ken R. From Woolloomooloo to ‘Eternity’: A History of Australian Baptists. 2 vols. Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2006. ISBN 1-84227-405-8 (2 volume set). 

It took me forty three years of preparation before I ran my first marathon. I’m still psyching myself up for the second one, and despite having such a superb and finely tuned athletic body it may just take another forty years, or maybe a bit longer.

I’m told that at the end I staggered deliriously over the line and collapsed, saying, ‘I have diabetes and I might be having a low blood sugar attack, or I might be just finishing a marathon, which feels the same.’

Running one marathon twenty years ago makes me an instant expert on long distance running, of course, and I’d like to pass on some of my extensive wisdom. If you’ve done your training and you’re fit, you only need to know three things on the day: pace yourself, never miss your drink stop, and stick with a group going the speed you want. Then you’ll stay the course and feel the wind in your hair and feel incredibly good to reach the end of the race.

Pacing yourself is hard at the beginning. There were four thousand of us, and, after the starting gun, it took ages for the huge crowd to move and then walk and then get running. I just wanted to go! But I slowed down, stuck to my times and ran the second half in the same time as the first half. And finished — alright, I just finished.

It’s been just as hard for me to pace myself as a follower of Jesus. I was brought up in an incredibly active Christian family. I just assumed that first we save the world and then we rest. But I soon realised that this doesn’t work. Yes, Jesus calls us to take up the cross and walk in his footsteps of welcoming the poor and so on, but he paced himself too. Yes, Jesus calls us to lose our lives in order to gain them, but I had to learn the best way to spend a life for Jesus! I soon discovered John 10:10, where Jesus said, ‘I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly’. You can’t share good news unless it’s good news for you.

I discovered boundaries. I discovered recreation. I discovered sustainability. Now I mark in blank spaces in my diary. I mostly get around at bicycle pace or public transport pace. I don’t answer the phone during meals. In fact, I sometimes lose my mobile on purpose and don’t answer it at all. Our family has always taken annual holidays, even when we couldn’t afford to go anywhere. Although our house is like a neighbourhood centre, our neediest friends know that I’m not always available; it wouldn’t be good for me and it wouldn’t be good for them. Discipleship is costly but it shouldn’t lead to bankruptcy.

I’m sad to say that I have friends who went out too hard, and they blew up in the middle of the race. I feel for them deeply. I hope that with the guidance of God’s Spirit I’ll still be pacing myself for many years to come so that I can still be running for whatever time I’m given.

As for not missing your drinks, I have to confess that the reason I was delirious at the finish — and yes, I was dangerously low in blood sugars — was that I missed the last drink station at forty kilometres with two to go. Too tired to hold the drink, probably. But that’s actually when I most needed that strong cordial.

I’ve discovered that I need regular spiritual nourishment. The more you roll up your sleeves, the more you realise you need to locate the spring of living water.

I take regular retreats. I journal. I see a spiritual director. I head out of the city regularly. I read nourishing books in cafes. I walk and pray. I cycle and pray (actually, I think every cyclist prays — it goes with the danger on the roads!). Everyone will find their own path in opening their lives to the refreshing and nourishing power of God’s Spirit. But we all need to do it.

If pacing myself is a challenge, and if remembering to take my drink stops is a discipline, the third thing, running with a group, I find much easier. It’s hard to explain how close you feel to someone when you’ve just run twenty or thirty kilometres beside them, perhaps not even saying a word. An unspoken agreement grows that you’ll both stick together and try to keep an even pace and encourage each other.

You can guess that I’m talking about community. In genuine community we all share the load.

Sustainability, at least for me, requires community. My community—Westgate Baptist Community and, in particular, a home group within it—makes me laugh. My community tells me when I’m not pacing things well. My community turns up when we’re loading a trailer or painting a house or minding kids for a suicidal mum. We’re rather needy ourselves. We call ourselves the walking wounded, or God’s rag tag army. But we’re in it for the long haul together.

The most important thing my community does for me is to give me hope. It helps me to understand the paradox of losing my life in order to gain it and to gain it abundantly. I’m not just giving and giving. I’m giving and receiving.