As a church historian, I got to do something really cool today. I got to visit First Baptist Church … in America. You read that right. It’s not First Baptist Providence. It’s not First Baptist County Seat. It’s First Baptist Church in America.

In 1638, dissenter Roger Williams was banished from the Massachusetts Bay Colony. He made his way to the nether regions of New England, to an unpopulated area south of the Mass Bay. He came to what we now know as Rhode Island. There, as a fledgling Baptist himself, Williams founded the city of Providence, a theological nod to man’s dependence on God, and he founded the first Baptist church in the New World.

The church building that I visited today was not built by Roger Williams. He didn’t stay Baptist long enough to build any kind of church, figuratively or literally. He remained a Baptist for just several months before deciding no church was truly true to Scripture and chose to wait it out, ecclesiastically speaking, until the coming of Christ.

The church Williams started did grow. A few years later another Baptist congregation would show up in Newport founded by John Clark. But it’s the story of Williams’ church that is fascinating and instructive.

Founded in 1638, FBCA puttered along, making the case for religious freedom in the colonies. That freedom was largely granted in the Rhode Island colony years before it took hold anywhere else. Unhappy with the freedom that they founded, FBCA would, in the early 1700s, make a number of moves towards respectability. They built a building along the lines of the model presented by the Congregationalists in New England (no, still not the building I visited). They sought an educated clergy, the built walls and doors around their pews (really) and charged rent to the occupants to pay the salary of the pastor. They wanted to be and became more like their neighbors.

With the quest for respectability came other challenges. When you seek to please those outside of the church, you run the risk of displeasing the ideals of the founders of the church. Over time, FBCA moved slowly away from Williams’ and the early Baptists’ roots and theology. They compromised on small issues and then larger. Today, FBCA is theologically a shell of what it once was. Yes, they have a beautiful building (built in 1775). Yes, they have an amazing legacy. Yes, they’ve left the theological fold. The church is, for all intents and purposes, moderate theologically at best, liberal at worst. The photo directory that I saw betrays a small but graying population who wouldn’t fill but a couple dozen of the pew boxes. What Williams launched and walked away from has, seemingly, joined him in his quest to find true Christian identity somewhere else. With that move, his founding vision has died with him and the founding members.

I’m afraid the same thing may happen one day to the Southern Baptist Convention. Like FBCA, we have a long history. We’ve had notable leaders. We’ve made valuable contributions to Christianity in America. And, like FBCA, we’re growing older. We have an up and coming generation that knows not Williams or the ideals of earlier generations. Like FBCA, we have many churches that look beautiful on the outside but are hollow on the inside.

We must do something before we end up like FBCA. If we don’t act soon to promote true Baptist identity and propogate Baptist theology that is based on the Bible, the SBC will one day be but an attraction for curiousity seekers and history buffs. “Remember when,” they will ask, “the Southern Baptist Convention meant something?” May that never be. To prevent that version of history, we must return to God, return to the Bible, and return to what it means to be a Baptist. If we don’t, the SBC will prove to be headed … nowhere.

Do you remember the old movie, “Revenge of the Nerds.” In the movie a group of academic eggheads, geeks, nerds, enter college and find solace in their similarity and despair in the exclusion from the mainstream of college life. Together, however, the exact revenge on the pretty, the athletic, those who would accept nothing but the common from their collegiate peers.

This week I am at the Christian version of the “Revenge of the Nerds.” I and about 1000 other academic types have gathered in Providence, Rhode Island to find comfort and companionship among others interestbbed in the things that we like. There will be conclaves in the coffee shop over the proper use of the definite article (that’s the word “the” for you non-nerds) in the New Testament. I’ve heard conversations about various theologians beliefs on prayer. Some will debate which Bible translation is best while other will discuss the meaning of the death narratives in the Old Testament.

Boring you say? Irrelevant? Preaching to our own theological choir? Dry? Disconnected? Nerdy? Well, “maybe” is the appropriate answer to the last question. But, to the rest the right answer is “no.”

While the discussions may seem obtuse and some clearly come solely for the purpose of catching up with old friends or rubbing shoulders with those you hope will become new friends, these kind of meetings are truly beneficial. They’re beneficial not only for the attendees but also for the church. Done right, these things are done in the service of the church.

The matters we discuss aren’t nebuluous topics unrelated to the church. We’re dialoging on things intimately connected to the life and thought of the church. What could be more important than the meaning and extent of Christ’s atoning sacrifice? What could be more valuable than considering the way in which our theology and our spiritual lives connect? These things are directly related to the meaning and living of our faith.

So, this week, don’t pity us for our nerdy little conference. Don’t question the value of our abstract efforts. Pray for us that we might rightly discern God’s will and His ways and that He will take what we do here and us it to bring life to many dying churches. After all, as William Ames said, theology is none other than the doctrine of living to God.

There are some jobs no one wants. Take for example, no one wanted to be the guy who had to tell George Steinbrenner that the Yankees lost. If you were that guy, it’s quite possible that you’d lose your job just for brining the news. An entire television show has been dedicated to just these kind of jobs — Dirty Jobs — jobs that no one wants but someone has to do.

The Bible has a few such jobs as well. Who wants to go tell Ahab and Jezebel that God doesn’t quite approve of what they’re doing? Who wants to be the bearer of bad news before Herod and Herodias? What kind of guys tells Nebuchadnezzar that his days are numbered? It’s one thing to be alive during the major course changes of world history but its another thing to be on the frontlines. If you remember correctly, Elijah had to run for his life, John the Baptist lost his head, and Daniel spent some time amongst the lions. These guys pulled some tough duty.

Most of us aren’t called of God to walk before the pagan firing squad. We aren’t going to operate in the circles that these biblical heroes experienced. Yet, there are other biblical heroes whose call to duty is much like ours. They were called not to successfulness but faithfulness. They were called to call others to God. They were called to people with hardened hearts. They were called to ministries with no earthly hope of success.

Consider for a moment Isaiah. Isaiah’s call to ministry comes in chapter 6. There he has a vision of God’s throne room. There he has an incredible religious experience. There, moved by the worship of the one true God, Isaiah responds to God’s question, “Who shall go for us,” with a hearty, “Here I am, send me.” Amen!

Those who’ve been tasked with recruiting missionaries love to preach of Isaiah’s willingness to go. And, he was willing. But, we dishonor the depth of Isaiah’s commitment if we ignore the fact that he was commissioned to go forth to a people who didn’t want to hear his message (just like many of us today). Worse yet, God told Isaiah that no one would respond. Isaiah was called to a dead end ministry with no hope of worldly success. He wasn’t going to see a revival. He wasn’t going to facilitate a major church growth spurt. He was called to preach to a rebellious people whom God already knew would not respond. You see, Isaiah wasn’t called to sucess. He was called to obedience. That’s tough duty.

Jeremiah experienced the same fate. He was set aside from the womb for the great task of preaching repentance to his countrymen. Yet, he too knew that there was no hope. His message would go unanswered just as God had warned. The people would not listen. The people would not respond. Jeremiah would preach. The people would sin. Jeremiah would preach some more. The people would sin some more. It was a lose-lose proposition for Jeremiah, yet he continued on in the face of stern opposition. Now, that’s tough duty.

Today, many of us need to learn the powerful lessons contained in the stories of Isaiah and Jeremiah. Too many of us become quickly disheartened when the world doesn’t jump for joy at our proclamation of the gospel. Too many give up hope and then give up trying.

That’s just the laypeople. Those called to the ministry vocationally don’t do much better and that’s much worse. They feel called of God to serve him. They feel led to go to churches where they can make a difference. Then, frustrated with the lack of progress, dismayed by the obstinance of a church full of sinners, they cry “uncle” and beg God to send them somewhere else, to someone else who will soak up their words of wisdom and sing their praises to their neighbors.

Good luck, gentlemen. God doesn’t call pastors to success. God call ministers to faithfulness.

Imagine the Bible without Isaiah 53. It’s not inconceivable if Isaiah had given up as easily as many of us do. Imagine the New Covenant without Jeremiah 31. It’s not hard to think that Jeremiah could have walked away in despair 13 chapters earlier when he complained of the people’s rebellion. Now, imagine many of our churches if someone didn’t step up, answer the call to tough duty, and love the unlovable in many of our pews.

The Christian walk, Christian ministry … those things are tough duty. Don’t measure the value of your efforts by the so-called marks of success. Measure your success by your faithfulness to those things that God has called you to do. It may be tough duty but it’s rewarding duty.

As my church votes this week to recommit themselves to a meaningful church membership, I resubmit this “oldie but goodie” on membership.

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What is the church? Is it a Christian country club? A place where a bunch of people with warm feelings for Jesus hang out? It seems that many Christians aren’t really sure anymore.

Think about the statistics for just a moment. The Southern Baptist Convention boasts a membership of over 16 million people. However, on any given Sunday, you may only find about half of them in church. That’s 8 million so-called Christians missing in action.

So, what’s the problem?

We’ve forgotten what church membership is supposed to be –- a commitment.

In this day and age of rampant no-fault divorce and easy bankruptcy, it’s not popular to talk about commitment. In fact, it almost seems like commitment has not only gone out of style but that it has been removed from the American vocabulary. Unfortunately, that lackadaisical attitude has crept into the church and is robbing us of our resources, our people and our ability to make a difference.

Given the moral and spiritual condition of our country and our families, we need to recommit ourselves to the church or it soon will be committed to the junk-heap of long-forgotten fads like the hula hoop and New Coke.

Church membership has always been about commitment. For whatever reason, though, Christians have lost sight of that fact. Church membership involves three basic commitments.

First, it entails a commitment to Christ. You can’t just walk in off the street and sign up to be a member of a church. You can’t just pay your dues and get in. The financial cost of membership is too high. None of us could afford it.

Here’s the good news, though. Christ has paid it all. His death on the cross has paid the way. He’s purchased our souls. He’s redeemed us for His glory.

For that reason, we expect –- we demand –- that our members be professing believers in Jesus Christ. We’re not talking about warm feelings or fond memories of singing “Jesus Loves Me” when we were five years old. We’re talking about a whole-hearted, sold-out, life-or-death loving relationship with the Savior of mankind. Without that kind of commitment, there is no salvation. Without that kind of commitment, there is no church membership.

Second, church membership requires a commitment to Christian living. When you join the church as a believer, you profess that you have been redeemed, that you have repented of your sins and that Christ is in the process of sanctifying your soul.

Most churches have a covenant, a written promise from one member to another to live and act in a Christ-like manner. This covenant is entered voluntarily as one joins the church. Perhaps you’ve never seen it. Perhaps you didn’t even know that it existed. But, more than likely, it does. When you join a church you agreed to live by its biblical principles. You agreed to accept its consequences, the discipline of the church, should you violate its trust.

Valid, vibrant church membership depends upon the members living in a manner that pleases Christ, a manner that does not besmirch His name, a manner that advertises to the world that this church –- Christ’s church -– is a very special place with very special people. That kind of living demands a commitment.

Third, church membership involves a commitment to other Christians. When you join the church, you join a living organism, the earthly representation of God’s reign and Christ’s work.

The church, this body of believers, lives and breathes as its members do. As in the human body, when all of the parts are functioning correctly, when all of its limbs are healthy, the church is healthy. When one organ fails, it invariably stresses the others. Yet when enough organs fail, the body goes into shock.

Church shock comes in many forms but the results are often the same. Members begin to withdraw. Cliques are formed. Some people are shunned while others are ignored. Before you know it, the disease of selfishness has run roughshod through the church and the prognosis is often fatal.

The remedy? A selfless commitment to others, a living fulfillment of the Christ’s command to love others as yourself.

So, this Sunday take a good look around. Look at the Bible. See what it says about salvation and sanctification. Look at yourself. See if you’re living the way that Christ demands. Look at those sitting around you. See if you see them as God does. Then recommit yourself to meaningful church membership.

New Year’s celebrations are supposed to mark new beginnings, new opportunities and renewed hope. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

But rather than celebrating the new year, the members of Van Buren Baptist Church in Louisville, Ky., held a wake several years ago. Mind you, it wasn’t your normal kind of wake. There were no flowers. No guestbook to sign. No funeral director standing discreetly by to offer his assistance. However, there was a body — the church body. On Jan. 2, 2005, we laid a church to rest. I find myself thinking about that church, it’s members and our sweet goodbye.

Like cancer, the death of a church is a long, painful process. For months, years even, you feel like something is not quite right but you can’t put your finger on it. You try to lose weight. You start exercising and eating right. When those things don’t work, you buy the latest self-help book, hoping that you can find an answer to all that ails you. Next, you call in an expert. You carefully examine every area of your life, trying to identify the malady. And, then, comes the news and it’s all bad. The church is dying and there’s little hope.

That’s the way it was for Van Buren. They had once been healthy and vibrant. But something happened. It’s hard to say what it was. It probably wasn’t any one thing but a laundry list of little things, seemingly innocuous at the time. The church realized something wasn’t right. Old members were leaving or dying and new members weren’t coming. They tried all the right things: expository preaching, outreach events, Vacation Bible School, community picnics and, of course, a healthy dose of prayer.

During one Christmas they even gave every family in the community, 400 homes, a Bible trying to reach out to their neighbors. But, in the end, it wasn’t to be. The diagnosis was dark, the disease fatal. The church died.

Like the doctor who delivers the somber news and stands by the patient until the end, I had the distinction of being their pastor in the end. I led the meeting where we discussed the prospects for the future. I encouraged them to face the facts. The church they loved — and some had nourished from its birth 40 years earlier — was sick and needed help. In the end, they bravely faced the news, evaluated the situation, and determined they did not have the resources — financial and human — to carry on beyond 2004 unless God supernaturally remedied the situation. He sovereignly chose not to do so, and so they bowed out gracefully, singing of God’s glory, finding hope in Paul’s confidence that God’s work in their lives was not finished (Philippians 1:6). They closed their doors with an emotional rendition of “Without Him.”

Experts warn us that around 70 percent of all Southern Baptist churches have plateaued or are declining. That means that approximately 28,700 congregations are showing the same signs of decline or disease as Van Buren. The causes may be different but the prognosis is the same. Unless, by the grace of God, we turn our churches around, I won’t be the only pastor to deliver a eulogy for his church this year.

Take it from a survivor, you don’t want to go through this valley. But, be warned. If you’re slow in waking from your ecclesiastical slumber, it may be too late. You may wake up to your own church’s wake.

Rest in peace, Van Buren Baptist Church.