Would I, if given the opportunity, want to go back to the ’50s and ’60s and live in that golden era of Southern Baptist life? Not in a heartbeat, and here is why:  While I sometimes envy those pastors who lived and worked during that time of growth and prosperity, hindsight tells me their approach to theology and polity was somewhat one-dimensional, and their mission orientation was simplistic and lacking.

In a recent e-mail conversation with a good friend and colleague, I found myself reflecting on the good old days, specifically, the past golden era of my church.

My congregation, like many, in terms of attendance and financial support, has seen its better days. There has been, unfortunately, a steady decline in our congregation the 16 years I have been her pastor.

It has been disheartening at times, frightening at others, and yet somehow affirming on occasion.

However (let’s be honest here), it really wears at one’s self-esteem and ego to realize that every attempt to pull a church back into its prior significance is met with resistance and indifference.

The building booms of the ’50s and ’60s have left us with more facilities than we can effectively manage. We have been burdened recently with the need of replacing roofs ($250,000-worth in the last two years) and air-conditioning cooling towers.

Our fellowship hall and entrances are badly in need of updating, a dining table hides the indelible stain on our parlor carpet, etc., etc., etc., ad nauseam.

Next year, we will celebrate the centennial of a church that, for its first 60 years of existence, was a thriving, growing neighborhood congregation.

People walked to church back then. Hence, we now have inadequate parking. But, boy, did they come! In the early ’60s, given the opportunity to relocate out west on a nice plot of land donated by a church member, the congregation voted to stay put.

And why not? Had God not blessed us here in this historic neighborhood? But many, if not most of the folks who committed the church to remain where it is, due to increasing affluence, relocated themselves – yes, you guessed it – out west. The days of a neighborhood church were over.

Read More