"Think of the Friday night Bible study here. That was dying because of a leadership vacuum, and you got it going so strongly that the church decided they needed to have one of the deacons lead it." Later on, it was someone who worked closely with that deacon since he had schedule conflicts. "That wasn't a vote of no confidence in you, it was a recognition of what you'd done, building the group into something that needed to be part of the church's regular structure." She meant that in that church, anything that was really a ministry of the church was under the charge of one of the deacons. Not that they tried to run everything—they didn't!—but to try to see that things didn't spin out of control because no one was there to see. "If you try to tell them that you're disqualified because of 'able to teach,' I'll be at the head of the line waiting to tell them you're wrong.
"For that matter, that's a better example than I was thinking! You didn't want to be leading that Bible study. You thought you weren't qualified, when anyone who knew your history would have known better. But that group flourished once you were guiding it, even as little as you were willing to do.
"Phil, you've already been doing, informally, the kind of thing they want you to do formally! And this isn't some kind of sudden impulse on their part—they've considered it, a lot! Think about the potluck last month. This isn't just a call tonight, it was in the works then."
What she meant by the last part was this. At an after-church potluck dinner, being held to celebrate something, four of the deacons—and their wives—had sat down at the table we were at. Three of these had become deacons since we had gone through the membership process, so they didn't know all the things we had discussed at that point. Our kids had been invited to eat with another family—who had several of their own, and who also invited some other kids in that age range as well. Most or all of the younger kids who were present, in fact. Several teens and a couple of other sets of parents were there, too. They had taken possession of one of the rooms used for young kids, where there were incidentally lots of interesting playthings. Getting ours to leave, a little later, had been a lot harder than getting them to go along, but by that time they knew the system. They were reluctant and begged a little, but there were no temper tantrums and no whining after the fact.
In the course of general talk, one deacon had asked something about Ellen's and my past, and I'd said that I couldn't really answer then, since parts of it I wasn't comfortable discussing in such a public situation. And the more senior deacon had said, "It would be good for them to hear about it, and they should hear from you," and suggested we all move to one of the Sunday School classrooms to finish eating.
So I had wound up giving the half-hour version of our high school, including the game and sex ed class. How Ellen and I had—well, met—some mention of Jenny and Sam and unspecified others, and the merest hint of how I'd wound up with Ellen instead of one of the other two.
That had led to our each explaining when and how we'd become believers, again on extreme fast-forward. It had been an enjoyable talk, actually, but at the time I'd wondered some about why it had happened. Now, it seemed completely obvious that Ellen was right. The newer deacons, who hadn't heard us on these subjects, had needed to know, and directly from us—because they were being asked to decide this.
Her arguments didn't convince me that I really should be in that position. They did convince me that my own immediate response wasn't as clearly right as it seemed to me. So anyway, two evenings later, we found ourselves at the meeting.
At the time we were becoming members of the church, we had met with the pastor and deacons. We'd met those then serving as deacons, collectively, which was routine, but we—or more often I alone—had also been in discussions with individual deacons, on many topics, quite informally. At the time, we were told about the structure and governance of that particular church, with special attention to some points at which it was somewhat unusual.
In principle, and in its bylaws, it was fairly normal for a Baptist church, in that it was governed by a pastor or pastors and deacons. However, almost half a century earlier, the decision had been made to expand the number of deacons, recognizing some of them as elders, giving those more responsibility for teaching and pastoral care—along with the pastor or pastors—and less for simple administration. They were still called deacons, though. Of course, in most Baptist churches some or all of the deacons filled such roles, without any formal recognition that this was, biblically, a separate office. And some churches which were almost identical in doctrine were formally governed by elders and deacons.
A second difference from the norm was that deacons were chosen by the pastor or pastors and deacons, with input sought from the congregation, subject to a straight yes/no vote of the membership as a whole. Provisions had been added to the bylaws allowing for the existing board of deacons to be dismissed
en masse
, with a meeting to be held almost immediately to elect a new board with nominations from the floor—upon petition of one third of the membership. It seemed obvious enough, to me at least, that those were to prevent any small group from gaining a self-perpetuating grip on the board.
A third main difference was a commitment to making decisions by consensus rather than strictly by voting, when possible. The bylaws specified a simple majority for many decisions, and two thirds for others,. But the practice was to table matters where there was no consensus, unless an immediate decision was truly necessary. Yet other decisions had to be brought before the membership as a whole for a vote.
I didn't really know how strong a consensus this required. If actual unanimity was required, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be chosen. There was one particular deacon, Robert Jones, who I knew didn't like me, personally, and who seemed to be disposed to object to anything I favored. I was sure that he would be dead set against appointing me. In fact, I still didn't understand why I was even being considered.
At the meeting, after prayer and consideration by the deacons of a few other matters, I was the next agenda item. The pastor began by repeating, more or less, what he had said to me over the phone on Monday. He said that they had watched my relationships with many in the congregation, mentioning specifically the Friday evening study Ellen had referred to, but also my participation in Sunday School class and other such things. The deacons had heard both our testimonies, either at the time we became members or recently, and when we became members we had also been asked about our views on many topics.
Pastor Fox said that he had called and spoken with our former pastor, Jonathan McDavid, asking for his views on my qualifications and anything else he might have to say that might bear on the question. He said that Pastor McDavid had completely endorsed me for the position, mentioning a number of cases where I had provided spiritual guidance and oversight for people, and their spiritual growth as a result. I gathered that he had described in detail our friendship with Kelly.
He said Pastor McDavid had raised one specific problem—my tendency to overload people with information. He had pointed out that this was a reflection of my understanding of the importance of context for understanding most anything, and said that I recognized it as a fault, that I had grown in this area over the year he had been our pastor, and that I responded to correction when I fell into this.
Pastor Fox then said, to all present, that in our phone conversation I had said I thought there were many reasons why I would not be suitable. He asked me to give these.
I began with the issue of letting the point get lost in the details, saying that what Pastor Mac had said was correct—I tried to improve, and had had some success—but that it was still a problem. I said that this was very much one of the things I'd had in mind, at any rate.
I referred to a couple of doctrinal issues. All those who had been present when we became members were already aware of these, but I pointed out that the church's bylaws specified that the deacons were to accept the church's position on these matters. The main two issues were the cessation of prophecy, tongues, healing, and other such "miracle gifts," and doubts I had about premillennialism as taught by this church and others like it—rooted in more basic doubts about their understanding of the nature and interpretation of the book of Revelation.
We were questioned in detail about these when we became members, and I covered much the same ground again now, a lot more briefly. I emphasized that for the most part what I meant was that I believed the church's teachings went beyond what was actually said in scripture. In the case of prophecy, I said that scripture taught that no general new doctrine would be revealed, but that the question of guidance and of making manifest the secrets of the heart seemed could not plausibly be viewed simply as miracles for the validation of the apostolic testimony at the time and thus of the scriptures. I said that I wasn't ready to rule out the possibility that the Lord might provide consistent gifts of prophecy or healing to one individual, but that such claims were to be tested very carefully, and that none that I was aware of stood up well to close scrutiny. I said that all of the arguments I knew of in favor of cessationism seemed to me to involve bad logic, or taking verses out of context and twisting their meaning, or both. I gave a few examples that I considered especially obvious and otiose.
Regarding issues of the end times, I said there were many points I didn't find clear, and I gave reasons I found in the text itself for not reading the book of Revelation as a basically chronological, literal map of the end times. "It's not that I have some well-worked-out alternative system to offer," I said. "I only have questions and scattered ideas."
Pastor looked around at the deacons. He said to me, "You cited the bylaws in ways that showed you have read them closely. So you know that on points of doctrine, we are allowed to waive the requirement of agreement, for secondary issues, if the prospective deacon agrees not to teach doctrines contrary to those specified. A number of us have heard you when these matters came up and your opinion was asked. You've been forthright about what you believe, but careful to point out that this conflicts with the church's understanding—as you have just now, in fact. If you agree to continue on this basis, also not unnecessarily seeking opportunities to contradict our doctrines, this may suffice. We may need further discussion.
"Admittedly, there are some in the congregation who do not accept that these issues are secondary, and so will vote against you. All of us here do not see these as necessary parts of the gospel, though. I assure you we have discussed this."
I said, somewhat reluctantly, "If my agreeing not to undermine the church's position on these things is the crucial issue, I would offer that kind of assurance, in writing as well as verbally. I may sometimes find my position kind of awkward—and I'd guess you may as well. But there are still a few more issues you should be considering. The one staring me in the face is in the list of qualifications in 1 Timothy 3, for both elders and deacons, and in Titus 1 for elders or overseers: 'The husband of one wife.' I understand that the Greek is more literally something like 'a man of one woman,' but I also know that in the Old Testament most of the references to husbands or wives just use the general words for man and woman. If I understand correctly, this is pretty much true of New Testament Greek as well, but I'm less sure about that.
"Even beyond that, there's quite a history of debate over how to interpret this. Plainly enough, you don't understand it—as some have—to require elders and deacons to be married." A couple of the deacons were single. "And some have interpreted it to bar widowers who had remarried, but that seems to me ridiculous, in view of other statements of Paul's. Divorce, premarital promiscuity, and marital unfaithfulness seem to me more likely to be at issue, and most likely polygamy of the sort that was practiced in that time and place. And you are all aware that, before we were married, I had been quite promiscuous."
Pastor Fox gestured with his hand. "Unless there is something you haven't told us, though, all of those cases were before your conversion. And of course you're correct that these verses have been highly disputed—on that matter as well—but quite a long time ago this particular church decided quite firmly that sins—not just promiscuity, but others listed there, drunkenness, quarrelsomeness, and so on as well—sins which occurred before conversion are not what Paul meant. The sins must have been dealt with, by repentance and forgiveness, including restitution and restoration where appropriate and possible. And there must be every reason to believe that they have been left behind. You have committed yourself to faithfulness to Ellen, and it seems clear to us that you are no more likely to fall into that temptation than any of us. Pastor McDavid raised that, too, at some length.
