In the early 2000s, while she worked, my grandparents would pop in whatever VHS tape was handy. My grandparents are extremely proud of their two daughters, so more often than not, the VHS tape they would choose was a recording of either my mom dancing or my aunt singing. My favorite, the one I begged them to play almost every time, was a recording of my mom competing in Miss Arkansas 1992. I vividly remember her walking down a big set of stairs in white beaded gown and twirling her cape to thunderous applause when she tap danced to “William Tell Overture.” 

To my four-year-old self, she was Miss America. 

I may not have seen her perform on stage in real time, but I saw the way people looked at her in the grocery store when she flashed her Julia Roberts smile. I saw the way people naturally turned to her for answers, her confidence filling a room. She wasn’t just reacting to the world—she was shaping it.

When I started to grow up, I was always frustrated that I didn’t have those qualities. I never felt like I had any of the right answers, and I was too shy to even give them if I did have them! I didn’t glide into a room. I looked at the floor when I walked. 

I told her one day, “Mom, I want to be like you. I’m not exactly sure what you do or how you do it, but you’re magic.” She laughed (which, to be honest, miffed me a little). Stroking my hair, she said, “I learned it, honey. And so can you.”

When I started learning about the Miss America Organization, I realized a couple of key things:

1. My mom was not actually Miss America in the ’90s, despite what I had confidently told my elementary school friends (oops).
2. However, competing in the Miss America Organization allowed her to earn over $44,000 in scholarships, covering both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in education and making her the most educated person in my family. 
3. That kind of “magic” takes a whole lot of hard work.

Miss America is the nation’s largest provider of scholarships for young women—a mission that dates back to the 1940s, when Lenora Slaughter became the first woman to direct the pageant. She saw Miss America as more than just a crown; it was a launching pad for women’s education, a way to open doors that had been closed to them for generations.

Today, competitors are judged in five categories:

• Private Interview – a deep dive into our personal service initiatives, current events, and future ambitions.
• Talent – a chance to showcase a skill we’ve honed for years.
• Evening Gown – not just about the dress, but about grace and presence.
• Health & Fitness – previously swimsuit, now an activewear segment in partnership with the American Heart Association.
• On-Stage Question – answering tough questions under pressure in front of a live audience.

It was one thing to watch my mom on a VHS tape. It was another to step onto the stage myself.

Chasing Dreams (and Scholarships)

It sounds nerdy, but I always knew I wanted to be in school forever. My first dream was to be a librarian—not because of a deep love for cataloging books, but because I thought it meant I could read Percy Jackson all day without getting in trouble like I did in math class.

In high school, my focus shifted. I became interested in policy—how it shaped people’s lives, especially in rural Arkansas. My grandparents had to drive two hours just to see a doctor. I saw classmates struggle with financial insecurity. I started asking questions about the world around me, and the answers often frustrated me.

College was my chance to learn more, to figure out how I could help fix these problems. But when I started looking at tuition costs, I realized something: without scholarships, this dream wasn’t feasible for my family. Like so many others, the 2008 recession had changed our financial reality.

Miss America became my path forward—the key to unlocking both of my biggest goals:

1. A debt-free education.
2. A little bit of that magic I had admired in my mom.

Becoming Someone New

Competing in Miss Arkansas wasn’t just about winning life-changing scholarships–it transformed me.

Over the past eight years, I’ve grown into someone my younger self wouldn’t even recognize. I went from avoiding eye contact in a room to running a nonprofit.

Through the Miss America Organization, I founded Unite to Fight Poverty, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit tackling poverty in eight states across the country. The skills I needed to lead it—fundraising, relationship-building, public speaking—were all sharpened through my years in competition. When I stand on stage for an interview or an on-stage question, I draw from thousands of hours of practice, speeches, and appearances.

It’s funny—when I first stepped on stage, I thought I was learning how to compete. In reality, I was learning how to lead.

I don’t know if my four-year-old self would recognize me today. I don’t know if I glide into a room, but I definitely don’t stare at the floor anymore. I don’t always have the right answers, but I have the confidence to communicate and the experience to back it up.

More than anything, I think my younger self would be proud.

When I was nine, I wrote a list of my hopes and dreams and framed it. At the top, in my loopy kid handwriting, I wrote: “Get a college degree and the degree that comes after that for free like Mommy.”

That dream came true. I graduated debt-free, and I’m now pursuing a career that not only gives me financial freedom but allows me to create real change in the world.

That kind of economic security—access to education, to opportunity—is something I never thought I’d have. It’s something thousands of young women still don’t have. But thanks to Miss America, it’s something I can now help others find.

And that? That’s real magic.

Ciara founded the nonprofit Unite to Fight Poverty in 2021 after experiencing financial insecurity and seeing it reflected in her community. She is a Masters of Business Administration Candidate at Arkansas State University, and graduated summa cum laude from the University of Alabama with a degree in Political Science and International Studies. Ciara is also an aspiring writer. She’s published essays about identity, power, fashion, guaranteed income, and the wage gap in publications like Her Campus Media, The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, and Unpublished Magazine. Follow Ciara on Facebook and Instagram. Keep up with Unite to Fight Poverty on Instagram.

The post Discovering Miss America: My Mom and the magic of VHS appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Amid the towering Blue Cross Blue Shield, Regions, and Simmons Bank buildings that stretch across downtown Little Rock, stands a building on South Gaines Street whose history and significance far surpass the multi-story structures surrounding it—First Missionary Baptist Church. To those unfamiliar, passing by this Gothic Revival-style church, with its colorful mosaic windows next to the brick-layered J.P. Robinson Education and Fellowship Hall, might not prompt much reflection. However, upon closer inspection, the church reveals itself to be a vibrant kaleidoscope of Black American history, filled with hope, triumph, and resilience. This energy fuels the nearly 180-year-old community of worshippers, making it one of the oldest Black churches in Arkansas.

First Missionary Baptist Church at 7th and Gaines streets in downtown Little Rock celebrates 180 years. Photograph by Ebony Blevins.

The church’s roots trace back to 1845, two decades before the passage of the 13th Amendment, thanks to its founder, Reverend Wilson Brown, a self-taught former slave-minister. Driven by a deep desire to spread the teachings of the Bible to both free Blacks and enslaved people in the area, Reverend Brown boldly approached his enslaver, Major Fields, a Baptist minister, with the idea of establishing what they would call the First Negro Baptist Church. At a time when lynchings, brutal beatings, and inhumane treatment were commonplace, it took immense courage for a slave to challenge a slave owner, even one with the title of “minister.” This act of bravery laid the foundation for the church’s ethos of justice and courage, which has guided it for nearly a century and a half.

Even without a physical structure, worshippers gathered in various locations until May 2, 1847, when they began meeting regularly at a brush arbor at the corner of Tenth and Spring Streets in Little Rock. The brush arbor remained their meeting site until the church’s permanent building was erected on land donated by Chester Ashley in 1882. This provided a lasting home for the congregation, a testament to the enduring principles of justice established by Reverend Brown during his initial conversations with Major Fields—well before the abolition of slavery and his eventual 25-year tenure with the church.

The ethos that Reverend Brown established continued to evolve through each succeeding leader of the church and the efforts to grow its congregation. Reverend Reuben White, who followed Brown, expanded the ministry by founding Mount Pleasant—another church birthed out of First Missionary in Little Rock—and also served as a member of the Arkansas Legislature. The next leader, Reverend J.P. Robinson, who served for 50 years, transformed First Missionary into a church dedicated to service, organizing foreign missionary trips, and establishing what became the largest Sunday School in Little Rock at the time. Under his leadership, the church grew into one of the city’s first Black megachurches in the post-WWII era.

The fifth reverend, Reverend Roland Smith, succeeded Reverend E.C. Dyer, and saw the church as a platform for change during a tumultuous period in Little Rock’s history. The church became an anchor for the African American community in the wake of the 1957 Central High School integration crisis, as national demands for equal rights intensified. Reverend Smith, who had close ties to civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., was also deeply involved in Little Rock’s political landscape. He eventually became the only African American leader to address the Arkansas Legislature about the horrors of segregation. Each reverend contributed to advancing the church’s vision, adding a crucial piece to the mosaic that represented the church’s spirit.

Under Reverend Smith’s leadership, the church became a beacon for civil rights in Little Rock, drawing the attention of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.. In the wake of his incarceration in Birmingham, King wrote his famous “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” and was inspired by the church’s commitment to the cause. As a result, King agreed to speak at First Missionary’s 118th anniversary on April 28, 1963. The news of King’s visit stirred the same hostile sentiments that had fueled the abuse of Elizabeth Eckford during the Little Rock Nine protests, and threats of violence quickly surfaced. Despite these threats, the Little Rock police refused to provide protection.

In the face of these challenges, the church took matters into their own hands. The men of the church provided security for King during his visit, while the women offered him food and laundry services, creating a nurturing environment of love, protection, and service. These acts of solidarity became a testament to the strength of the church and the power of community. When King delivered his speech, over 600 people gathered, spilling out of the church and into the streets. His message ignited a wave of hope and action, not just in the church, but throughout the city.

Renee Hubbard, church trustee and lifelong member. Photograph by Ebony Blevins.

“It shined a light on everything we needed to be concerned about—how we could be catalysts in the church for what could be corrected… for us to be involved in the civil rights movement,” says Renee Hubbard, the current trustee of the church, reflecting on witnessing King’s speech at the age of 13. Hubbard, now 74, is a lifelong member with an established familial legacy in the church. “Every time I think about it, I get goosebumps, like I’m there again.” Just four months later, King would deliver one of the most iconic speeches in American history—“I Have a Dream.”

The church’s legacy also attracted the attention of then-Governor Bill Clinton, who spoke at its 145th anniversary just months before announcing his candidacy for president. Clinton paid tribute to the church for its significant role in shaping post-Jim Crow Arkansas, a future that many members had fought for their entire lives. The church’s history also intersects with the broader struggle for African American advancement, as W.E.B. Du Bois and Booker T. Washington had debated the future of Black Americans. Washington even spoke at the church on October 16, 1913, the Sunday after the grand opening of the Mosaic Templars of America building.

All of this history can be seen vividly through the various artifacts and pieces of history in First Missionary Baptist Church, a testament to the church’s evolution through the nearly two centuries. The vibrant stained-glass windows not only illuminate the interior but reflect biblical themes and pivotal moments in the church’s legacy, including its active role in the Civil Rights Movement. Items such as photographs from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. ‘s 1963 visit, commemorative plaques honoring events like the Little Rock Nine crisis, and the church’s bell—dating back to 1894—highlights how resilient the community truly is. The original pulpit and pews have witnessed nearly 180 years of sermons, struggles, and triumphs, standing as symbols of unwavering faith and community resilience. Each element within the church tells a story of a legacy built on justice, love, and spiritual perseverance, carrying forward the mission laid out by Reverend Wilson Brown in 1845.

These remnants scattered around the church serve as powerful reminders, not only of the church’s legacy but also of the progress made by the Black community in the United States. Some artifacts were created before Black soldiers could enlist to fight for their country, others before the Civil Rights Act of 1965, and still others before the inauguration of Barack Obama, the first Black president of the United States, in 2008. As you walk on the carpet, worn by both the oppressed and the free, the hopeful civil rights fighters and the prestigious university graduates, the church’s four walls seem to expand, encompassing the very spirit of the movement—the alignment of our nation to the true teachings of Christ.

The church’s current pastor, Reverend Cameron Mitchell, a recent graduate of Vanderbilt University, now carries the weight of this dense legacy as the body of Christ. Hubbard says he connects the church’s rich history to modern-day struggles. Through his sermons, the essence of Reverend Mitchell’s ministry echoes the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.: “I see the church as the body of Christ, and the body of Christ cannot be a tool for oppression. It must be a liberating force.” (A Testament of Hope, 1986).

As the nation grapples with a regression toward bigotry and hate, it is crucial to distinguish between the teachings of a figure like Jesus and the current tense political environment plagued by Machiavellian leaders who declare themselves “God’s chosen instrument to rescue America.” Some even go as far as to claim divine intervention during tragedies where their supporters are killed in the leader’s proximity, but they survive: “I was saved by God to make America great again.”

In the highly conservative state of Arkansas, which overwhelmingly ranks number 5 out of all 50 states for religiosity, there seems to be a growing cognitive dissonance on the true teachings of the gospel. Those who once preached purity now wholeheartedly support serial adulterers. Churchgoers who can recite Ephesians 4:31-32 by heart now find inspiration in a man who ran an entire campaign promising vengeance against his perceived enemies. In places where the love of one’s neighbor is embedded in religious practice, deep-seated prejudice is often cloaked in the rhetoric of being a vessel for the gospel.

The contradictions and paradoxes of hate seem more pronounced than ever, yet the history of First Missionary Baptist Church reminds us that these paradoxes have long been present. “We’ve seen it all,” says Hubbard. From Baptist minister Major Fields—who “owned” his fellow brothers and sisters in Christ—to the threats of bombings and violence from those who gathered around burning crosses, the fact that a Black church had to be established in the first place due to the segregation of the church itself is a stark reminder that our collective destiny has often been clouded by our irrational humanity.

As we sit alone at night, contemplating the cruelty that has replaced decorum across the country, we might ask: Where do we go from here? Having witnessed both the triumphs and atrocities of the civil rights era, as well as the present-day regressions, Hubbard reflects on the civil rights struggle in the city: “As great as the pain and agony were, the passion and resilience were much stronger.” In this tumultuous moment of American history, we need stories like that of First Missionary Baptist Church—stories of justice, stories of resilience—reminding us of how seemingly impossible victories over hate were somehow achieved. These battles have been fought before, and they have been won.

Through the infinite well of love that extends far beyond the walls of First Missionary, we find the strength to persist in our own struggles. The resilience of this church and its people shows us that even in the darkest times, love and faith can endure, empowering us to continue fighting for a more just and compassionate world.

The church is celebrating its 180th anniversary on April 25, 2025. To celebrate the exhilarating history and future of this church, make a donation to help restoration efforts.

Photography by Ebony Blevins.

SOURCES

1. “First Missionary Baptist Church at 180 | Legacies & Lunch” – YouTube
   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stey1wn1lJ4
2. New Growth Springs from Old at Historic Black Church – AY Magazine
   https://aymag.com/new-growth-springs-from-old-at-historic-black-church/
3. First Missionary Baptist Church – Little Rock
   https://www.littlerock.com/directory/first-missionary-baptist-church/
4. First Missionary Baptist Church in Little Rock, Arkansas (1845) – BlackPast
   https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/first-missionary-baptist-church-little-rock-arkansas-1845/
5. $3,500 Grant to Help Little Rock Church Preserve History – Arkansas Online
   https://www.arkansasonline.com/news/2022/mar/05/3500-grant-to-help-little-rock-church-preserve/#:~:text=First%20Missionary%20Baptist%20Church%20in%20Little%20Rock%20has%20received%20a,by%20Martin%20Luther%20King%20Jr.
6. Mosaic Templars Cultural Center recognizes vital Black churches that survived the test of time – Northwest Arkansas Online
   https://www.nwaonline.com/news/2022/dec/20/historic-congregations/
7. Evangelicals made a Bad Trade – The Atlantic
   https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2025/01/evangelicals-trump/681450/
8. “I Have Decided to Stick with Love. Hate is Too Great a Burden to Bear.”
   https://www.11alive.com/article/news/history/mlk-quotes-to-remember/85-f3b29005-e696-4fef-b2e9-c26f229406cd
9. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.: “I see the church as the body of Christ, and the body of Christ cannot be a tool for oppression. It must be a liberating force.” (A Testament of Hope, 1986).
10. How Religious is Your State? – Pew Research
    https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2016/02/29/how-religious-is-your-state/?state=alabama
11. A special thanks to Renee Hubbard, whose guidance and testaments through our conversation not only cultivated the information of this article, but the essence and of the piece as well.
    
    

“My name is MJ Ferguson, and I am studying both African American Studies and Political Science at the University of Arkansas. My passions include writing, research, community service, political activism, and making music! I am a board member for UARK’s Volunteer Action Center, an executive for UARK’s Residents Interhall Congress, a contributing columnist for the Arkansas Traveler, a research assistant manager for UARK’s African American Studies research team (UART), and an upcoming research intern for the University of Michigan’s Summer Research Opportunity Program.” Follow MJ: LinkedIn | Substack | Instagram

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I have two beautiful children, but my path to motherhood was not easy.

Like many Arkansans, we needed the help of a fertility specialist to get pregnant. When I got my first positive pregnancy test, I was so excited!

But my hopes were dashed a short while later when I learned through bloodwork that the pregnancy was not viable. There was nothing we could do but wait for my body to start to miscarry naturally. 

Those weeks of waiting were difficult.

My pastor came over, and we sat in our living room and prayed together.

We cried and asked God to be near to us in our pain.

I was swimming in grief, desperate to try again. I eventually started bleeding.

Later, after several attempts, I finally had a viable pregnancy that ended in the birth of my now 7 year-old son. 

When it was time to add another child to our family, I went into the process with a much more guarded heart. I knew another loss was possible, but I was not prepared for what came next.

Not once, but twice, I got pregnant. Not once, but twice, I went in for my first ultrasound, only to see an empty sack on the screen. Not once but twice, I heard nothing but silence as the tech scanned over and over again for a heartbeat. Not once but twice, I was experiencing a non-viable pregnancy.

Each time, my doctor explained the options: wait for my body to miscarry naturally, take a medication to cause my body to expel the non-pregnancy, or have a surgical procedure called a d&c.

I knew how the waiting felt, and it was awful.

I was also afraid of the medication causing a painful miscarriage that I would have to manage at home alone.

So, after talking things over with my doctor, my spouse, and my pastor, I elected to have the d&c procedure both times.

Not once but twice, I woke up in the recovery room and cried onto the shoulder of a loving nurse who soothed my battered and broken heart. When I finally held my daughter in my arms 18 months later, I cried tears of joy. 

Today in Arkansas, doctors have to jump through many hoops to offer women in my shoes the medical care I received. Right now, our state has a near-total abortion ban. There are no exceptions for rape, incest, or fatal fetal abnormalities.

Abortion-related and abortion-adjacent procedures are under extreme scrutiny. While the procedure I had was not an abortion, the medical code contains the word “abortion.” As a result, doctors are spending precious time–time they could be treating other patients–meticulously defending their plan of care for women like me, and asking multiple physicians to sign off on their actions. 

These extra steps are not because the care I received is dangerous, controversial or unethical. These extra steps are to keep medical providers from going to prison or losing their medical licenses and being unable to treat patients at all. As a result, what used to be a non-controversial procedure for women experiencing pregnancy loss has become complicated and high-stakes. 

I want my doctor to be free to focus fully on my healthcare needs and the needs of other women like me facing pregnancy loss. I don’t want their judgment impaired with worry about how a judge or team of lawyers with no medical training will interpret their actions. But since doctors’ primary objective is to treat patients, not fight legal battles, their options are limited.

It pains me to know that in a time of immense pain, a provider can’t be wholly focused on their grieving patient, and must also worry about defending their treatment plan to outside parties. 

I am glad I had the option to surgically end my non-viable pregnancies without unnecessary red tape. The procedure allowed me the space to recover and heal, without worrying for weeks about when my miscarriages would start.

The compassionate healthcare I received helped me recover faster, and enabled me to hold my baby girl in my arms more quickly. I want other grieving women to have easy access to that closure, too. 

The current total abortion ban puts politicians between patients and their doctors. When I got devastating news in the ultrasound room–twice–our state’s legislators were not the ones holding my hand and handing me tissues. My healthcare providers and my pastor were. Healthcare providers need the freedom to offer patients expedient options in a tough situation like mine. They need the freedom to rely on their years of medical training and expertise, without worrying about a distant third party calling their care plan into question. They need the freedom to support their patients as they build families in life-giving ways. 

Every pregnancy deserves to be welcomed with tears of joy. Unfortunately, some pregnancies are met with tears of pain and sorrow instead. In those heart-breaking situations, Arkansas women and their doctors deserve access to a range of medical treatment options. We need to trust our doctors and their pregnant patients to make compassionate, loving, and wise choices in difficult times. By taking healthcare decisions out of the courtroom and putting them back where they belong–in the exam room and in the living room–patients and their doctors can work together to assess their particular circumstances, weigh the risks, and make the best of a bad situation. 

The post The search for compassionate care appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Ever since the reversal of Roe v. Wade, I have just felt a sinking in my soul. This has perplexed me because I am pro-life: I do believe that life begins at conception, and I have also volunteered at a crisis pregnancy ministry in their care center. I think that God has given me the burden of so many women who are terrified, indignant, or just angry at the ruling. I know also that this is a pivotal time for the church in the way Christians proceed from this place, and I fear and see that in many ways the response has not been Christ-like and may turn people away from Jesus.

The purpose of this writing is not to argue my position on Roe but to lay out a path for Christians in the light of Roe. The right to an abortion will now be decided by individual states. But the support and care of women in these situations is firmly in the hands of the church…or at least it needs to be.

In church recently, I was blessed to hear the testimonial from a young woman who at age 19 found herself with an unexpected pregnancy. Raised in a church and youth group, she knew that the last place that she could turn was her church as there would be no grace for her there. By the grace of God, she kept the baby with her life forever altered for the better. She cast a vision for how the church in the future could care for mothers in similar situations: Mentorship, grace, and community. Unfortunately, many churches offer none of these and instead focus on the shame. It is not difficult to figure out how Jesus would have responded to an unwed mother in crisis.

I have some first-hand experience with mentorship, grace and community. For 3 years, I volunteered at a crisis pregnancy center in Fayetteville, which is an amazing place, which seeks to support women who make the choice to have their baby. During the pregnancy, women would come to our clinic to watch videos about the birthing process. After pregnancy for 8 months, they would continue to come to learn more about child rearing. As a care counselor, I listened, prayed with our clients, formed relationships with them, and just loved them. Clients earned “mommy bucks” for coming, towards which they could use to purchase diapers and other child-related items that were donated to the cute store on site. Each and every week, we were all witnesses to the transformation of these women through the love of Christ.

There was one client who I was blessed to befriend. She was not married and definitely did not expect her pregnancy. She made the hard decision to keep the baby, separated from a huge group of unhealthy people, and began the process of making her life condusive and healthy to raising a child. After she graduated from our program, we continued to stay in touch. I would receive regular texts from her with questions about her then 1 year old. Sometimes she asked my advice about financial matters. Sometimes she had questions about God. Without question, God used this child to grow this woman up: To clean up her life, help her make better choices, buy a house, and begin down a road of faith. Her parents deceased, she regularly tells me that I am the one person she can count on in this life. It is an honor. She really doesn’t have anyone else pouring into her life except me. I feel like this is what I am called to do as a Christian: Not to lecture and not to shame but to support, love, and encourage.

My church is a financial sponsor of this pregnancy center, and some people choose to volunteer there. But their program often reaches capacity, and the timing on the classes doesn’t always fit people’s schedules. In this post-Roe world, I can imagine that these types of clinics are going to be busier than every. So instead of moping in my post-Roe funk, I have taken some positive steps within my own church to have a conversation about reaching out to women in crisis the way Jesus would. What if my church was where women with unplanned pregnancies came first? What if we could pair women with a mentor for support and to walk along-side them? Could we help women in crisis to find community that would truly transform their lives? Are we qualified or trained? Heavens no. Have we raised our own kids and have a heart for others? Absolutely. And are we willing to shower women with the same grace that we have received in our own lives? The possibilities are limitless.

To me, this is the correct definition of pro-life: Valuing the life of a fetus as we walk along-side and love the new mother and child. Are there other systemic issues that need to be addressed. Absolutely. The list is long from paid maternity leave, affordable child-care, and quality and available childcare. None of these should be political issues, and I call upon Congress as well as the General Assembly to tackle each and every one if them in single-issue bills without other amendments attached. I would venture to say that any politician that opposes abortion but is not willing to make the systemic changes is a hypocrite and does not deserve to have a voice on this issue.

I know that there are many other thorny issues related to abortion such as the life of the mother, rape, and incest. Legislators who have made policy without accurate medical information or considered the social/emotional/financial concerns of new mothers have not made good laws: They have simply imposed their views on others without taking care of women and children the way Christ would have. Furthermore, the dogmatic approach that does not address these issues is generating anger and resentment towards the church and Christians.

In closing, my heart is a little less heavy now that I know what I can do to help. I know that I am called to serve and to love. It is a good place to be. The storm is undoubtedly going to continue to rage around this issue. I am going to do what God has shown me to do, and I would be honored if you would create a movement where you live to support women and children in Arkansas. Arkansans, we are likely to have a bunch more babies in the coming year! Who will be Jesus in the flesh and walk alongside these neighbors. The answer is not someone else’s mirror: It is in your own.

The post Possibilites appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

If you read my first article entitled, “Little Did We Know,” you are aware of how I view the fundamentalist takeover of the Southern Baptist Convention between 1979 and 1990. If you have not, I suggest you do so before continuing with the following. It will help with context. 

The purpose of this piece is to introduce to you the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF). 

Finally admitting that the SBC takeover was complete, and with any thought of progressive Baptists maintaining or reclaiming a place in the denomination having been scuttled, a group of bruised and battered, and now former Southern Baptists, met in Atlanta in 1990 to forge a new identity. And while a new “brand” of Baptists was given birth, raising the child proved not to be so easy.

In advance of CBF’s annual General Assembly in Orlando, Florida in June of 2000, the late Robert Parham wrote an op-ed special to the Orlando Sentinel, a ten-year retrospective. In Robert’s typical, succinct, get-after-it style, he said, “Leading Cooperative Baptist Fellowship members is like herding cats, while leading Southern Baptist Convention folk is akin to driving cattle.” 

And there, my friends, you have the difference.

In truth, under the leadership of Texan Cecil Sherman, the first few years of CBF’s existence were spent largely reacting against what was considered the worst traits of the SBC. . . which, I suppose, given my own retrospective, was natural, if not necessary for these leaders in order to forge a new identity. For example:

In keeping with historic Baptist principles, the fledgling CBF refused to refer to this new entity as a denomination. Hence, the word “Fellowship.” Later, the term “denominetwork” would be introduced, but it never really gained traction. Though Southern Baptists have historically claimed the title of  “convention,” there has never been a felt need to shy away from being referred to as the largest Protestant denomination in the world. In fact, it is a matter of great pride to many. After attending a dozen or so annual convention meetings, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a speaker refer to the great Southern Baptist Convention, I could have retired much earlier than I did! The young CBF would have none of that.

CBF would vow to own no property. The SBC owns six seminaries, now led by those who either were involved in the fundamentalist takeover or were influenced or trained by those who did. Though it has since substantially diminished in size – as have many of the old denominational entities – the SBC still maintains a large publishing concern, sends thousands of missionaries across the globe, and holds sway over individual state conventions. . . what my late friend Robert referred to as the “minor-league teams.” CBF does indeed commission “field personnel,” and has state and regional organizations, but does not control what they do, nor tell them what to say. That has not been entirely true of the SBC.

In 2000, for example, the SBC adopted the revised version of what is called The Baptist Faith and Message, its doctrinal treatise. Prior to that time, any doctrinal document, such as this, was simply a guide to generally-accepted belief. With the advent of a new millennium, and the SBC now firmly in the hands of fundamentalists, that all changed. To remain a SBC missionary, whether national or international, this document had to be signed as an act of loyalty, something that had never, ever been required before. I personally know some who, sadly and with great difficulty, gave up their work rather than give in to such coercion.

CBF would not own agencies but would partner with like-minded institutions and ministries. One of the unforeseen and truly positive results of the SBC-CBF division, at least from my viewpoint, is CBF’s approach to theological education. Rather than own seminaries, which in the SBC operate under controlled and tight theological mandates, CBF has chosen to partner with a number of institutions that have been formed in the last thirty years, many of them affiliated with established universities and educational institutions. There are too many to mention in this piece, but I will give you a few examples: McAfee School of Theology, affiliated with Mercer University in Georgia; Truett Theological, associated with Baylor University; Baptist Seminary of Kentucky on the campus of Georgetown University; Campbell University Divinity School in North Carolina. Notable institutions such as Duke, SMU, and TCU have “Baptist Houses” where they train Baptist students for ministry. CBF of Arkansas’ partner institution is Central Seminary in Kansas City. But, CBF does not own them nor dictate how they operate. That, in my mind, is a major, and important, distinction.

Another distinctive of CBF life is its elevation of women in positions of leadership. I mentioned CBFAR’s affiliation with Central Seminary in Kansas City. Central’s former president is Molly Marshall, who was fired from the faculty at Southern Seminary in Louisville, my alma mater, for –  you guessed it – being a woman. And a smart, strong one at that! Molly once served on the staff of my former congregation in Little Rock, Pulaski Heights Baptist. Central is now led by Pam Durso, who for a number of years was president of Baptist Women in Ministry (BWIM). Prior to my coming as Interim Executive Coordinator of CBF of Arkansas, for more than two and-a-half years I was the interim pastor of First Baptist in Memphis. I am proud to say this vital congregation has now called Kathryn “Kat” Kimmell as Senior Pastor. 

Chuck Poole was once asked why his church in Jackson, Mississippi ordained women as deacons and ministers . His answer was simple: “We ordain women because we baptize girls” (Galatians 3:27-29).

Walter B. Shurden is a Baptist historian, the retired head of the Christianity Department at Mercer University, alma mater to my two children. “Buddy,” as he is known to his friends, published a book on Baptists’ Four Fragile Freedoms. They are:

Bible Freedom

The Bible is foundational for individuals and congregations. Every Christian has the freedom and right to interpret and apply Scripture under the leadership of the Holy Spirit. The wisdom and counsel of the larger congregation should nurture individual believers as they seek to interpret and apply Scripture.

Soul Freedom

We are each accountable to God individually without the imposition of creed or the control of clergy or government (and I would add, denomination). This personal experience with God is indispensable to the Christian life and necessary for a vital church. This is sometimes described as the “priesthood of all believers.”

Church Freedom

Baptist churches are free, under the Lordship of Christ, to determine their membership, leadership, doctrine and practice. This is sometimes known as “autonomy of the local church.” Individual churches should work together to achieve goals that one church by itself could not reach, (hence the presence of organizations like CBF of Arkansas).

Religious Freedom

Everyone should be able to worship (or not) as they feel led without unnecessary interference by the government. Just as religious freedom involves the freedom to practice religion, it also includes the freedom not to practice religion. If you can’t say “no,” your “yes” is meaningless. The separation of church and state affords an important constitutional protection of religious freedom for all.

Having noted the differences between the SBC and CBF, the question then is begged: why do so many Baptist churches remain affiliated with both? That is indeed a good question, and this is the only answer I can provide: old ways and habits, not to mention affiliations, die hard. Many of my former congregants simply found it too difficult to walk away from what they had known all their lives, even though what they had known no longer existed. With the desire to serve Christ locally and internationally, the SBC provides comfortable and familiar channels by which one can be a part of the “Baptist way of life and faith.” Even if you aren’t Baptist, you may have heard of Lottie Moon and/or Annie Armstrong, two women for whom international and “home mission” offerings historically have been named. Interesting, isn’t it, that these major offerings are named for women who could not preach in many a Baptist pulpit?! They could “speak,” but not preach, an important distinction to many SBC’ers. The Cooperative Program, a central fund endowed by individual churches to support agencies and finance the work of missionaries (see my previous article), is deeply embedded in the SBC, not to mention broader Baptist, psyche. It is hard to throw away old wineskins in favor of new (Mark 2:22). 

I refer back to Robert Parham’s earlier remark about herding cats. If you get the idea that I think CBF is perfect, please. . . no. We’ve made our fair share of mistakes, which may just be the subject of a future article. After all, confession is good for the soul. It has taken us years to put the old wineskins behind us in favor of the new. But I can think of no better way to be Baptist in today’s climate. Perhaps, some time down the road, a new and superior way of thinking and doing will come along. I leave that to the next generations to consider. As it is right now, for all the reasons I have enumerated – and more – I choose to affiliate with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, and invite you to join me in the journey.

The post What is the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship? appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

I was born-and-bred in the Southern Baptist way of life, and had learned that the SBC was a wide theological tent. There were those encamped in what was considered both the extreme left and extreme right, but by and large Southern Baptists dwelt in the huge middle… some to the left of center and others to the right, but still the center. What held us together was our common love for missions and sharing the gospel, reflected in what was known as the Cooperative Program. 

SBC churches were encouraged to give a portion of their income to the Cooperative Program (CP), and from this central fund missionaries were supported, agencies received their funding, and seminary students like myself were provided essentially a free theological education. As a graduate of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky, I felt my master’s degree was an excellent springboard for what I hoped would be a long and fruitful pastoral ministry.

Little did we know what awaited us in Houston. I was sitting with Randel Everett, my best friend during our days at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkadelphia, high in the upper reaches of the Astrodome. Randel had gone to seminary in Fort Worth, and we hadn’t seen each other in several years, so we were enjoying our reunion. It came time for those who would nominate presidential wanna-be’s, and Adrian Rogers’s name was brought forth. Rogers was pastor of the huge Bellevue church in Memphis, and was, as both Randel and I agreed, unelectable because he was on that extreme right to which I earlier referred. He would not be an attractive choice for that large center which I also mentioned. With our paper ballots in hand, little did we know…

Shift your focus, if you will, to the city of New Orleans. Several months before the Houston convention, two other right-wing extremists, Paige Patterson, once pastor of First Baptist in Fayetteville, and Paul Pressler, a judge in Houston, met at the Café Dumond in NOLA to plot their political takeover of the SBC. How best to move this huge denomination to the right where they could control her destiny? It could only be accomplished through electing their man—and obviously, it would be a man—to the presidency. The president of the convention had the power to determine who would serve on the various committees, commissions, and agencies that made policy for the SBC. Not only was there power to be grasped, but millions of dollars and properties as well, including two large encampments and six theological seminaries. The Sunday School Board alone had its very own zip code in Nashville. There was a lot at stake. It would take time to accomplish their purposes, Patterson and Pressler agreed, but it was worth it for the sake of what they felt was the spiritual goal of “saving” the convention from liberal destruction.

The leaders of the right-wing takeover movement felt the denomination should reflect their views, not that of those who were in the center or the left. And so, for the very first time in the history of the convention (at least for the very first known time), raw politics was used to get their way.

Based on the size of a church’s membership and gifts to the Cooperative Program, each congregation was allowed to send a certain number of delegates (called “messengers”) to the convention meeting. Except for very small congregations, many if not most churches were allowed the maximum of ten messengers. Annual convention meetings, especially when a presidential election took place, would see thousands of Southern Baptists assembled in one place. This gave rise to the saying that when they were in town there were two things Southern Baptists would not break: the Ten Commandments and a ten-dollar bill. 

The leaders of the right-wing takeover movement felt the denomination should reflect their views. For the very first time in the history of the convention, raw politics was used to get their way.
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Patterson and Pressler arranged for like-minded churches to send their full equivalent of ten messengers, and they came literally by the busload. And they all voted in lock-step as they were instructed by zone captains dressed in navy blazers and red ties. Not only was Adrian Rogers elected, but on the first ballot, a rarity in SBC life. I turned to my friend Randel in utter disbelief, and he said to me, “Hyde, we’re in big trouble.” And then, those messengers who voted for Rogers were loaded back on their buses and sent home. They were not in Houston for the regular convention proceedings but for the purpose of voting for their man. As I said, it was a show of raw politics, never before seen in Southern Baptist life. Little did we know…

It took a decade, but it happened. Fundamentalism eventually became the capstone of the Southern Baptist Convention. Rogers was followed by a lineup of like-minded fundamentalists who kept the momentum going: Bailey Smith (an Arkansas native and fellow OBU alum), Jimmy Draper, Charles Stanley, Jerry Vines, and Morris Chapman, all pastors of large churches which, ironically, had a history of giving little or nothing to the Cooperative Program. During the decade of the 80’s, people like me worked to overcome the gradual takeover of our denomination, but by 1991 the battle was over and we acceded to our loss. We were a people without a denominational home, for the SBC no longer reflected our collective values.

What to do next? If you have stayed with me thus far in this narrative, perhaps you will be interested in my next piece that will tell you about the birth and life of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. 

The post Little Did We Know appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Debate in the United Methodist Church

The United Methodist Church (UMC) is known for being one of the more progressive protestant denominations in the United States and will be voting on whether to recognize same-sex marriage and LGBTQ clergy next year in the upcoming General Conference. The result of this decision is expected to split the church in two, as this has become a hedge issue among conservative and progressive Methodists that just won’t result in a verdict that leaves everyone happy. For some conservatives, it’s been a factor that encouraged them to leave the UMC entirely. For progressives, we see it as an overdue and necessary step towards the formal inclusion of queer people into the body of Christ.

These kinds of debates aren’t necessarily “special” to the UMC, but it is ground zero for a new divide in American Christianity: An increasing split between self-described “Conservative” and “Progressive” Christians who view the scriptures from different lenses. Conservatives tend to be more literal and fundamentalist, while Progressives are less literal and are becoming more affiliated with a movement known as “Deconstructionism,” referring to the practice of revisiting and rethinking long-held beliefs of the Faith. Many in the Deconstruction movement are adherents of “Liberation Theology,” emphasizing the liberation of the oppressed from social, economic, and political power structures; with the movement having roots in Latin American Catholicism. Pope Francis is a notable Progressive, specifically on economics. As stated above, I’m in the “Progressive” camp, just so you’re aware of my bias (If the title didn’t give it away). It’s also important to note that being a “Progressive Christian” does not necessarily correlate to being a political progressive, and vice versa.

The UMC is not just limited to being relatively liberal on gay rights. The church recognizes women as pastors, has spoken in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement, and the necessity of the eradication of global poverty. As a kid, I saw so many amazing people in my church get involved with the United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) or other service projects in the U.S. and globally. During the pandemic, the UMC has spoken forcefully in favor of church members receiving vaccinations and listening to health experts, while also advocating for government leaders to be responsive in getting vaccines to rural, impoverished, and non-white communities. While no denomination or church is perfect, the UMC has done an amazing job of recognizing something I don’t really see from most other churches: social justice and faith in action are both essential to and intertwined with the Gospel.

Progressive voices of the faith

In my life, I’ve cast 3 votes for President: Hillary Clinton, Elizabeth Warren, and Joe Biden. What do these three flawed politicians have in common, aside from the obvious? Yes, they are Democrats, but they are also highly religious. I can hear the rage comments now… “Killary isn’t a Christian/they believe in abortion/they’re with the devil…”

While mainstream American Christianity is dominated by the Southern Baptist and Evangelical traditions, which at this point are as firmly rooted in the Republican Party as low taxes and AR-15’s, the idea of Democratic politicians being religious is a foreign concept to lots of voters on both sides. Separation of Church and State is engrained in the minds of progressives, and most conservative Christians tend to think that supporting policies like reproductive choice or same-sex marriage means you’re not actually a Christian. (Or at least you’re going to have an uncomfortable conversation with the big guy after death). Many Catholic Bishops openly criticized President Biden’s right to communion because of his pro-choice politics, despite him being a devout Catholic and a regular attendee to mass. Clinton and Warren are both UMC members, with Warren invoking the Gospel of Matthew’s Parable of the Sheep & Goats as the basis for her politics; and Clinton speaking candidly about her daily devotional during the 2016 election, titled “Strong for a Moment Like This,” written by Rev. Dr. Bill Shillady.

As I mentioned earlier, the mainstream American church is dominated by the influences of the Southern Baptist and Evangelical traditions, firmly planting the politics of the Church on the right of the political spectrum. While Jesus belongs to no party or ideology, I cannot begin to describe both the short- and long-term harms this is doing to the Church. The obvious is Donald Trump, and the relative indifference of the Church to his egregious assaults on political norms and democratic institutions. However, it goes so much deeper than the behavior of the former President. Senator Ted Cruz, the poster-boy of Evangelical Conservatism, lead an effort to invalidate the 2020 Electoral College votes. In Arkansas, GOP State Senator, and candidate for Lt. Governor-Jason Rapert-is renowned for his inflammatory statements on twitter, while professing a fervent and zealous devotion to Christ. Should I even mention Jim Bob Duggar? Republican politicians and ideologues have been prone to problematic behavior and policies, including the demonization of immigrants, mocking movements for racial justice, and labeling any social welfare spending “socialist,” all while invoking Christianity in the same breath.

Woe to those using the Church for hate

I know people who have left the faith entirely, because of the sheer disgust they have felt watching the Church not only be silent, but often engrained in, the politics of the right. Let me make clear that there are millions of good people who find themselves on the conservative side of the fence, and their politics & faith are just as valid as mine. The issue is that not nearly enough of these people have spoken out against the increasingly cruel politics and the cult of personality surrounding Donald Trump. This is only accelerating the decline of Christianity in the United States, with irreligion on track to be the majority religious consensus as early as 2035. While there are certainly problems on the left, the political marriage of mainstream Christianity to the Republican Party will continue to push away from the faith those who cannot accept Donald Trump as the face of the party of supposed Christian values.

Progressives are also hesitant to talk about faith in the pursuit of the policies and justice we seek for society. We are warry of sounding “churchy” or alienating voters from our message who don’t profess Jesus. After all, Progressives are much more religiously diverse than Conservatives, and many Progressives don’t subscribe to religion at all.

But at the core of Progressivism is representing the interests of ordinary people. From collective bargaining and tackling gross inequality to addressing the impacts of systematic racism and the necessity of environmental preservation, there are massive overlaps in values between Progressives and people of faith (in particular, the Christian kind). However, only about a quarter of Americans identify as liberal or progressive. What gives? Well, you’d be surprised how few Christians know about the overlap in values. The Christian-Right has done a phenomenal job of turning so many Christians into one issue voters: the issue of abortion.

When bringing up abortion, it’s important to make two points crystal clear: (1) There are valid views by people on both sides of this issue, and (2) most Americans fall into the category of “Pro-Choice with conditions,” i.e. favoring the legality of abortion while also supporting limitations that restrict later stage procedures, such as late term abortions. A slim majority of Christians classify themselves as “Pro-Life.” What the Right won’t tell you is how Pro-Life we Progressives really are. We support policies that mandate sexual education based on science instead of abstinence, and easier access to birth control, so that teens are knowledgeable about sex and can prevent unwanted pregnancies. We advocate for economic policies such as higher minimum wages, access to affordable healthcare, and educational opportunities via college or trade school that give young adults economic mobility; allowing them to start a family, without falling into deep financial distress.

Too often, the issue of abortion is only seen as a moral issue instead of an economic one. There are thousands of young women who simply do not see a viable financial path to having a child, and the tragic realities of the Foster Care system too often do not leave adoption as an alternative either. While Conservatives are prone to stop the conversation at birth, Progressives should talk more about how we actually have the solutions to making abortion unnecessary, without taking away a woman’s right to bodily autonomy. And that message should be directed towards Christians, who for too long have been written off by Progressives as simply being closed-minded or religious bigots.

Progressives: get out of your bubbles

The elitism of the Progressive movement is also a major problem to its success and is a reason why Democrats are prone to only win elections when the opposition is just insanely bad. (Remember “basket of deplorables?”) Progressives tend to be city-dwellers, stuck in their blue bubbles and sipping their chardonnay, worried about issues like global warming (albeit, a valid concern), while people in the middle of the country are living paycheck to paycheck and seeing the talented youth of their towns meander to big cities for job opportunities and like-minded values. You just can’t really worry about global warming when you’re not sure how to pay for the necessities. While there are still plenty of poor Democrats and affluent Republicans, new trends show that Democratic congressional districts are becoming more urban, wealthier, and formally educated. Republican congressional districts are becoming more rural, poorer, and less formally educated. There also happen to be more districts that lean GOP than DEM in their Cook Partisan Voting Index (PVI). So how can Democrats (Progressives) fight this elitism and win elections? Head to the Church.

In Christianity, we are taught that we are all made in the image of God. There is value in every single person. And though the Church has done plenty of horrible things while it has been a power structure (Crusades, Inquisition, persecution, hanging out with fascists, etc.), the Church’s roots are those of humble origins. Jesus, a brown refugee, and working-class man, stood in defiance of the religious and political elite of his day; He began a movement of mostly women and slaves that would turn into the world’s most dominant religion, built on a foundation of radical love. This shared recognition of the value of human life, and our commitment to seeing through social and economic justice, means that Progressives not only have a home in the Church, but the Church needs Progressives to be a political voice of the faith. If not, Progressives will continue to be a minority in this country for the foreseeable future, and the Church will continue to only be associated with the problematic political right. For Christianity and Progressivism to survive for the long-term, it’s time for the Left to go to church.

Sources

• How America Lost Its Religion – The Atlantic

• “Pro-Choice” or “Pro-Life,” 2018-2021 Demographic Tables (gallup.com)

• The Age of Deconstruction and Future of the Church – RELEVANT (relevantmagazine.com)

• What is liberation theology? – U.S. Catholic (uscatholic.org)

• Hillary Clinton Thinks About Preaching, Bill Shillady Publishes a Book of Devotionals – The Atlantic

• Democrats and Republicans Live in Different Worlds – WSJ

* United Methodist conservatives detail breakaway plans over gay inclusion (nbcnews.com)

The post Jesus Rode a Donkey:<br>Why the Church and Progressives need each other appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Growing up, I took a deep interest in the scriptures. I remember being as young as 12, taking my Bible to school and reading during lesson breaks and on lunch. In church, I would sing hymns like “Nearer, my God, to Thee,” taking those words to heart. I was baptized. While other kids my age were reading teen fiction novels, I was reading apologetics. I even joined an adult Sunday School class because I wasn’t “getting enough” spiritual substance from my regular youth class. It was serious to me. I took it all to heart. 

Then I realized that I was gay. Looking back on it, I always had those feelings. I tried having feelings for my best friend in high school, an amazing girl who is still a close friend. However, those just weren’t genuine. No amount of prayer could change that I really had a crush on someone else, a person of the same gender. Well, shit. 

I won’t go into detail because it’s personal and painful, but I can say with absolute assurance that my first years acknowledging my sexuality, I wanted to die. 

I wanted to die. Everyday. 

How I’m not dead is a genuine miracle. For years, it was almost all I thought about. And why? Because I knew what the scriptures said. There was no walking around it. And reading those words, especially when they were invoked from people that I loved… I cannot put the pain into words. 

For context, I wasn’t kicked out of my home. There are so many others who had it so much worse than me. I am fortunate enough to have amazing, loving parents who love me no matter who I am. And yet, those feelings were there. That pain was real. 

There is still a guilt that exists in acknowledging these feelings. I am so blessed with an amazing family and friends. I have my needs met, and there is so much happiness in my life. Even in those years of darkness. I eventually learned that you could feel both gratitude and despair, and it’s okay. It’s valid. 

Not long after I came out, I left the faith and considered myself Agnostic. I put religion to the side, and I didn’t really give it too much more thought. After all, look at how much pain it had caused me. When I would come home and attend church with my parents, I didn’t take communion. While I knew that I was always welcome to His table, I couldn’t bring myself to partake in something so special and sacred when I didn’t believe. Even though abstaining hurt, it was an act of respect. I hope He appreciated that. 

After taking my LSAT and working on my Law School applications, there was a sudden urge to really answer the question “What do I actually believe?” I picked up my Bible for the first time in years, and I opened it to a random page. It was the Beatitudes. 

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth. 

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. 

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. 

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the Sons of God. 

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 

Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. 

I cried. I cried harder than I have in a very long time. The words of the Savior comforted me in a way I never knew possible. In that moment, I understood that I was enough. That I was not defined by something I could not choose. That He had seen my suffering, acknowledged it, and wiped away my tears. That He never left me. 

I went to the kitchen, and I grabbed a small plate with a piece of store-bought bread, and some left over wine in the fridge. I sat down, and took communion by myself, for the first time in years. I prayed that despite my uncountable flaws, that my life may be an emulation of the Savior’s love, and that other queer people may see me as a walking testimony to the love of God. That you can be authentic to yourself and to God, without hating yourself or walking away from faith. That you belong in the body of Christ. That, after all the pain, it is well with your soul. 

The post  It is Well with My Soul  appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

I was inspired by your article today to write a note to you. I don’t usually do this sort of thing; I try to ignore politics since I hate it so much!  However, I find myself wanting to let you know how much I agree with you.  I’m neither conservative nor liberal – I’m pretty much in the middle, but I seldom find anyone else in that position.  There’s always another way to look at things, I believe, and we should always consider the other side (which doesn’t seem to be a common practice in this time). For instance, I am a devout Catholic who firmly believes that abortion is sinful.  I would never consider it myself and hope my children are the same. (I’ve had eight pregnancies and 9 children with my husband of 60 years who died in 2013.)

However, an experience I had as an assistant principal at Pine Bluff High School in the 60’s caused me to consider the other side.  My office had a sweet, smart, young girl as our monitor – 15 years old and a sophomore.  One afternoon as she was walking home from school, she was accosted by a man in the alley as she passed and was raped.  Humiliated and ashamed, she told no one, not even her mother.  Later on, she missed her period and told her math teacher in tears.  I drove her to the lab where her pregnancy was confirmed.

When we got back to the high school, I called her mother who promptly picked her up and took her for an abortion.  I hate to say it, but I was immensely relieved, because her life as she expected it was not ruined by this criminal experience.  Ever since then, I have hoped for another way to address this situation for others, and even though Catholic, I cannot protest for the complete end to abortion. 

I have been retired from education for 18 years and so grateful! Thank you for reading this email!

I so appreciate her perspective. It’s remarkable to me for many reasons. This person—a moderate, or centrist—feels like she is alone in the middle of the political spectrum. She’s elderly, married 60 years in 2013. A mother of 9. Devout Catholic. Highly educated; her signature included a doctorate. Retired educator. She witnessed this tragic thing in the 60s, before abortion would have been legal in Arkansas. Roe v Wade was decided in 1973.

I can relate to feeling lonely in the middle, although I believe there are many more of us than anyone realizes. I can relate to being married a long time, though not 60 years yet, and having a lot of children, though a lot for me is four. I can also relate to having spiritual reasons for hating abortion and believing I could not emotionally survive it myself.

As a fellow educator I understand seeing things, bearing witness at times to intimate details of people’s lives. My students have taught me a great deal about worlds as foreign to me, personally, as another planet: the worlds of poverty, abuse, and crime; worlds with very little agency or access or options. It is in my role as a teacher that I am constantly confronted with the heartbreaking nuances of things that might otherwise, from my limited experience, seem black or white.

We need this woman’s story. We need people like her at the table in Arkansas, weighing in on how we make policies that affect our citizens. We need the wisdom of her age and experience as an individual, mother, and school administrator.

The vision of Arkansas Strong is to amplify voices like hers. May this be the place all voices in Arkansas are heard. May this be the place this reader is not alone, but brings her unique strengths and finds others who strengthen her. May we be the table set for everyone to gather, together, and make Arkansas Strong.

The post Come to the Table appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Baby Kerry

After our daughter Lora turned two, we decided that it was time to try for a second baby. We were fortunate and it wasn’t too many months later when the pregnancy test came back positive and we began planning the bedroom for child number two. Lora was a book lover and we had these illustrated children’s books based on the books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Each one started with listing the members of the family—Pa, Ma, Mary, Laura, Baby Kerry and their good ol’ bulldog, Jack. As the pregnancy developed, Lora started referring to the baby growing in Mommy’s tummy as “Baby Kerry” and we often did the same.

Not quite midway through the pregnancy, my wife called me at work on a Thursday morning passing on a worrisome report from her doctor. Her maternal alpha fetal protein level was high—so high that the doctor wanted to repeat the test to check the accuracy of the results. I was in a pediatric oncology treatment team meeting where I filled the role of social worker. After the meeting, I contacted the medical library at the hospital where I worked to get some articles about what could happen with an elevated maternal alpha fetal protein level.

Us Among Them

The repeated level came back even higher and over the weekend we read the articles and were not comforted. The articles talked of neural tube defects, significant disabilities and even death of the baby. My wife and I were already challenged with living examples of what can go wrong in the development of a child in our jobs. Each month I met three or four new children diagnosed with cancer and my wife worked as a teacher in a preschool for children with a wide array of disabilities. Now we wondered if we would be joining the club of parents of children with disabilities or life-threatening illnesses. Would it now be “us” among the “them”?

Monday came and we moved to the next step of a level II ultrasound. I stared at the blurry screen looking for signs of anything. My wife could not see the screen but she could see tears in the eyes of the ultrasound technician who watched the screen and left the room to get the doctor. After looking himself, he assured us we had done nothing wrong but that our baby had anencephaly—our baby had and would have no brain and this condition was obviously not compatible with life. Our options were three—dilation and curettage, inducing labor and then delivery or continuing the pregnancy to term. We went home in shock, cried together and called our families and friends. The next day my wife began to have physical complications and we chose to induce labor and deliver.

I Know Why You’re Here

Wednesday night we packed and prepared to go to the hospital and we searched for words to explain to now three-year-old Lora about what was happening. We told her that the baby was sick and the doctor needed to get the baby out of Mommy’s tummy anticipating that the post-hospital conversation would be that the baby was too sick and the baby died.

Our pastor came to the house and we all sat on the floor with a few friends as she prayed with us and anointed our heads with oil and blessings for the experience to come. Arriving at the hospital on a cold winter night, I left my wife in our room and went down to complete admissions paperwork. In the elevator, a stranger saw me as a young man in a hospital where many babies are born and said to me, “I know why you’re here.” I tried to smile and nodded but thought, “You have no idea why I’m here.”

Song of Faith

Baby Kerry was born late the next morning. We didn’t know if it would be a boy or a girl but agreed that either way the name would fit (although the spelling would change). He was as big as my hand, burgundy colored with perfect hands and feet and missing a brain. As my wife took her well-earned sleep, I rocked and sang him songs that I had sung to our daughter—songs of faith that I had learned from my parents and grandmother.

His lungs were not developed enough for him to breathe but his tiny heart was beating and did so for about an hour and a half. Against my tendencies and history, the tears flowed freely as we shared our brief time together. I knew that there could be someone like me (in my professional life) in this hospital—someone who was called when bad things happened—but I did not want to share this experience and thankfully no one came.

Wonder in the Making

Kerry was cremated and we spread his ashes in the memorial garden at our church following a memorial service Sunday afternoon. Winter weather and icy roads almost kept family away but they made it to stand by and give witness. My wife and I read from a book of prayers in the service and asked that a baptismal song be sung. “See this wonder in the making, God’s ownself this child is taking…”

I heard this song again when I was back to work in the hospital. My family loved music and my parents knew many songs. Growing up it became habit to come up with a song to fit whatever was happening at the time. It was like continuously living in a musical. When I returned to the hospital, I was on call one night when a baby died. When the family expressed a desire for pictures to be taken of the baby, I walked down the hall and stairs to get the camera.

On my way back to their room, I became aware of the baptismal song playing in my head and I wondered how long it had been there. It reminded me of the dark humor of my unconscious when Kerry was born—then the song that came unbidden was from the Wizard of Oz as the scarecrow sings, “…if I only had a brain…”

Everything Reminds Us of Baby Kerry

In the spring, we planted a tree in the backyard in Kerry’s memory. While planting the tree I explained to Lora that the tree would remind us of Baby Kerry. Lora replied matter-of-factly, “Everything reminds us of Baby Kerry.”

Kerry was cremated and we spread his ashes in the memorial garden at our church following a memorial service Sunday afternoon. Winter weather and icy roads almost kept family away but they made it to stand by and give witness. My…
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It’s been twelve years since we said hello and goodbye in the same breath to Baby Kerry. Each year Lora and her four-year-younger brother, Noah, help put Snow Babies ornaments on the Christmas tree in Kerry’s memory. When someone asks how many children we have, I almost always answer “two” but in my mind, I’m thinking “two and a half.”

Not too long ago Lora asked if Kerry had lived would we have had Noah. Her memories of Kerry are few and fuzzy but her experience of Noah has been deep and affectionate. I replied that we had planned to have two children and so it was unlikely that we would have had more than two. She thought about this and replied that maybe it was a good thing, then, for otherwise we wouldn’t have Noah. Sometimes I wonder the same thing.

The post Everything Reminds Us of Baby Kerry (March for Life, Part II) appeared first on Arkansas Strong.