“I never thought of you as a bully.”

“And you’ve changed your mind?”

“I just don’t see what right you have to ask me to account for what I preach in my church. What business is it of yours?”

“Your church is a member of this association.”

“Yes, and we are autonomous. You know as well as I do that Southern Baptist churches are independent, and that our cooperation with one another is voluntary. So, there’s no bishop or pope telling us what we can preach and cannot preach.”

“There’s not now, either. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about? Evidently, someone has reported me to you and I’m being called to account for what I do. I’d like to know what that is, if it’s not you acting like you’re some kind of authority over me.”

I took that in, and sat there quietly for a moment.

“Edgar,” I said, finally, “No one is trying to tell you what you can preach. That is between you and the Lord, and, I might add, between you and your church membership. If they are okay by it, fine with me.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

“The question is whether your church will remain in this association. We have nothing to do with what you do inside your church, but we have everything to say about which churches comprise the association. From time to time, down through the years, the leadership of practically every Baptist association in America has had to make a decision about one of their members.”

“About kicking a church out? Is that the point?”

“That’s the worst case scenario. But, yes, it does happen. I expect you have read in your state Baptist paper from time to time of churches being excluded from the SBC over homosexuality. A church would ordain a gay man as a deacon or the pastor would perform a civil union with two lesbians and the congregation would be in favor. That’s when the other Baptist churches rose up and took a stand.”

“Yeah. I can see that. You start approving that and the next thing you know, we’ll be preaching universalism–everyone gets to Heaven regardless of anything–or denying the Scriptures. I know we have to have some standards.”

“And,” I said, “it’s important to notice that the churches excluded from the association have gone right on doing what they do, even though they are no longer in the SBC. Our decision did not violate their right to decide for themselves what they would do, what they would preach, or who they would select as leaders. All it did was withdraw fellowship from them. And I suppose it put out the word that we do not condone what they were doing. So there was a public relations angle to it.”

“I understand you’re saying the question before me and my church is not about what we can do, but what we can do and still remain Baptist, is that it?”

“Edgar, you can call yourself Baptist no matter what goes on here. We don’t own the franchise. I grew up in a Free Will Baptist Church. Here in New Orleans, we have several churches calling themselves Baptist Full Gospel churches. There are thousands of Baptist churches not tied in with the SBC at all.”

“In fact,” I continued, “this matter only affects your church’s membership in this association. The state convention and the SBC itself, those are separate issues.”

“I thought if you excluded a church from the association, they were automatically ousted from the others.”

“A lot of people think that. But no, it doesn’t work that way.”

He said, “So, the issue is whether my church will be allowed to remain in the Baptist Association of Greater New Orleans, is that it?”

“I thought I said that. About six times.”

“Yeah, but it finally got through. So, what do you want from me?”

“I want to pull together a small group of our associational leaders and let them ask questions about your preaching, your doctrine, what your church is doing. And we’ll see where we go from there. Is that all right?”

“I will admit I’m not too thrilled about having to account to other preachers for what I do. Who do they think they are?”

“Do you know Henry Aldrich? Pastor of Coffee Street Baptist Church? He would be one.”

“The nicest guy on the planet. Henry and I visited together one morning last week.”

“How about Ozzie Nelson, over at Hilliard Memorial?”

“Another great guy. He sang in my church last year.”

“The others would probably be Lamont Cranston and Don Wilson. I think you know them.”

“They’re all friends of mine. You’re saying they would be the board of inquisition?”

“Come on, man. No one is out to get Edgar or your congregation. Bergen Community Baptist Church is a fine bunch of folks. We just need to know if we’re still on the same page.”

“You’re thinking of that line from Amos. ‘Can two walk together except they be agreed.’ Right?”

“Edgar, we don’t have to agree on everything. You know the old line about where you have two Baptists, you have three opinions. But we must agree on certain essentials of the Christian faith. Otherwise, the existence of the association of churches is meaningless.”

“Well, it might do me good to humble myself before my brethren.”

“I was thinking the same thing but didn’t want to crowd you.”

“I’ll say one thing, though. Who would have thought we’d get in trouble with the association for nothing in the world except–”

“Save it, Edgar. We’ll talk about it when we get the pastors together. Now, how about some coffee.”

“You buying?”

“In a way, you are. It comes out of the money the churches–including yours–send to the association. That is, if you don’t mind drinking coffee with a bully.”

“Nah. I drink with my wife’s brother all the time.”

“Spare me.”