Our firstborn son Neil was ordained as a deacon Sunday night at the First Baptist Church of Kenner. He and five others “are already deacons,” said Pastor Mike Miller. “We’re only recognizing the reality of who these men are — servants in every way.”

Unbeknownst to Neil, some of our family came in for the occasion. One day last week, I told him, “I need two times with you Saturday—at 3:30 and at 7 o’clock. I need you to go somewhere with me.” He said, “Dad! That’s the Final Four weekend! I have these games to watch.” I laughed, “Tough.” And then assured him he wouldn’t miss much of them.

Saturday at 3:30, he and I drove toward the airport, only 5 minutes from his house. He said, “Who do I know who is flying in for this?” Then, when he saw I was pulling into the departure area, he said, “You’re sending me somewhere.” Earlier, he guessed we were renting him a convertible since the weather was so stupendous. (I might have if I’d thought of it!)

As we cruised along slowly in front of the terminal, he said, “There’s Marty!” (His brother) He jumped out and they bear-hugged. A precious moment.

At 7 o’clock that night, he (per instructions) drove to my house in his van. I said, “Let’s go downtown.” Since we have never ever met any incoming visitors downtown — they either drive in or fly in — he had no clue what we were doing. When I said, “Turn left on Loyola,” he said, “Okay, who do I know who would come to see us on Greyhound?” I said, “Or Amtrak.” (The same building offers both bus and train service.)

We parked in the loading zone and I said, “I’ll stay with the van. Go inside and walk around until you see someone you know.” A few minutes later, he exited carrying luggage, and was followed by my two sisters, Patricia Phelps and Carolyn Lampman and Trish’s daughter Deanna. A great surprise. Neil told them, “I am so honored you would do this for me.”

How was the train ride, we wanted to know? Jerky, crowded, noisy, long lines at the diner, and the cars not very clean. That’s disappointing, and completely opposite to what we experienced five years ago when Margaret and I took the three local grandkids on the identical excursion to and from Birmingham. (The return trip on Monday was more pleasant. The cars weren’t as crowded, they were so tired they could rest anywhere, they had brought along snacks, and they were heading home.)

The ordination service was Sunday night, but we filled two pews Sunday morning. First thing, they asked Neil, chair of the personnel committee, to make a presentation. He gave special recognition to Faye Wright, for 20 years a mainstay in the church office, mostly as educational secretary and now as bookkeeper. Pastor Mike Miller, as fine as they come — we admit to a certain amount of prejudice; we like this guy — brought a fine message on the cross from I Corinthians chapter 1. Then, our clan went out to eat.

We filled three tables in the back part of the New Orleans Hamburger and Seafood Company. Everyone was chatting and loving on one another, and making photos on their phones, some of which were immediately posted on Facebook.

After lunch, I gave Trish, Carolyn, and Deanna (we call her DeeDee) a one-hour tour of the Katrina-affected areas of New Orleans. DeeDee said, “I’ll never again complain about where I live.”

Sunday night, my sisters were trying to establish some kind of kinship with Rob Noles’ family. Our maternal grandmother was a Noles in North Alabama, but we’ve never traced the lineage. Rob’s father, Bob, has however, and assured us that one branch of the family which had arrived from England and Ireland in New York in the 1700s, had settled in Alabama. Someone asked me, “So, are you and Rob related?” I laughed, “Yep. The same way you and the Queen of England are!”

Each of the six men gave their testimonies. Mike had cautioned them to be brief — “if each one takes 10 minutes, that’s a full hour!” — so they obeyed. Neil primarily told of his salvation and how he met Julie Gatwood in this church in 1991 (“I thought she was making eyes at me — but it turned out she was having trouble with her new contacts!”), a blessed connection if there has ever been one. Julie’s parents, Ray and Betty from Slidell, were in the congregation.

I thought of the time twenty years ago when Neil and I had driven from our home in Charlotte, NC, to an Atlanta Braves game. Zooming up Interstate 85 at midnight, I used the opportunity to talk with my captive audience about his (weakening) relationship with the Lord. He enjoyed no part of it, and the next day told Margaret, “That’s the last time I’m going to a ball game with Dad!” We laugh about that now, and he has made it a part of his testimony (when given more time). Even though he chafed at the discomfort of that kind of confrontation, he says, God used it as a wakeup call.

I sometimes tell that story to parents of rebellious young adults and encourage them to risk making their loved one angry in order to get through to them. I recall him saying that night, “Dad, I’m not enjoying this conversation.” I said, “I know you’re not. But you can’t get out of the car (I was driving) and you don’t have to reply. But I’m going to tell you what’s on my heart.”

I told him how much I loved him, what I remembered of his salvation experience at the age of 7 (I had wanted him to wait until he was older so he would understand more and presumably experience it deeper), and how I now wondered if he knew the Lord at all, based on the way he was living. I said, “Son, one of these days I’m going to die. And I want you to be in Heaven with us. It would be the heartbreak of my soul if you weren’t there.”

Neil is a lot like his dad. We both have miles of spiritual growth to go before we sleep. But we’re at a great place at the moment.

The text for my sermon (Pastor Mike had invited me to bring the message for the ordination; five of the six men had joined the church during my nearly 14 years there, and the sixth one — Rob Noles — is probably a cousin!) was I Corinthians 16:13-24. We flashed it on the screen and returned to it again and again in the 15-20 minute message.

“Be on the alert. Stand firm in the faith. Act like men. Be strong. Do what you do in love.”

The next day, Nancy Russell, mother-in-law to Rob Noles, e-mailed to say that she went back to see what the preacher at FBC Luling had preached on when her husband Martin was ordained as a deacon 25 years ago. It was the identical scripture. I had never used I Corinthians 16:13-14 before, to my knowledge. She said, “It was a God thing.”

Later, I asked Neil what he most remembered from the deacons and ministers who “laid hands on him” and whispered in his ear. (People sometimes think this is mysterious, like they’re passing along some mysterious coded message. But, it’s nothing so exotic. Usually, it’s a prayer or scripture or a few words of encouragement.)

Neil said, “Jim Parrie. He and Sheila returned to New Orleans after Katrina and rejoined our church. He bent over and said, ‘Neil, it looks like they’ve lowered the standards since the hurricane — taking us back and making you a deacon.” We love that guy.

A church never makes so eloquent a statement about itself as by the leaders it chooses. Looking at those six men — Carroll Laird, Johnny Barlow, Rob Noles, Billy Booth, David Rhymes, and Neil — the First Baptist Church of Kenner has identified itself as a congregation of loving servanthood. That’s what these four men are all about. I don’t know specifically what all are doing, but Johnny Barlow heads up the Baptist men’s work in the church, David and his wife Jamie work with our children in RAs and Gas, Rob and Shelley are working with young adults, and Neil leads the grass-cutting crews and coaches the men’s softball team. All six are quick to volunteer when workers are required.

Veteran observers of the political scene might recall a moment some quarter-century ago when a senator from Texas was nominated by the president for a prestigious governmental position. Soon, it came out that he was an alcoholic and given to bizarre behavior during his binges. Not to worry, the American people were told. “If the Senate confirms him, he promises to stop drinking.”

That politician was not confirmed, I’m happy to report. This is not how responsible leadership works. And it is most definitely not how the church of the Lord Jesus Christ is to function. “Let them first be proven” and “Do not lay hands on anyone suddenly” are instructions of God’s word on choosing a church’s leadership (I Timothy 3:10 and 5:22).

Should a church ordain a divorced man to the diaconate? Good and faithful Christians disagree on this. In our denomination, each church, being independent and autonomous, makes its own decisions. One thing most agree on, I am glad to say, is that the candidate must show over many years of faithful Christian living and solid steadiness in his home life that he has the character of Christ and the maturity required of a leader of God’s people.

Rick Humphreys of Columbus, Mississippi, was the first divorced man ordained as a deacon in my long ministry. To my knowledge, he was the first for that church with a history of nearly 2 centuries. But Rick was so fine, so devout and steady, and so well-known over several decades in that town and that congregation, that when we presented him, the membership responded unanimously with its hearty approval. Rick has brought only honor to that church and to his Lord over the two-plus decades since that moment.

This is not the place — I’ve taken enough of your time today! — to pursue related questions on who should be a deacon and who is excluded. I will say, however, that it’s easy to become legalistic here and omit some faithful, otherwise well-qualified candidate due to some failing in his distant past, while endorsing someone without the character or maturity or judgment or the heart to be a leader of God’s people simply because at no time did he commit any of a select list of sins or failures in the past.

“Lord, give discernment to your people in all these matters. Keep us alert. May we stand firm in the faith and act like adults. In strength, let us do the loving thing at all times.”

Amen.