On my recent trip to Washington, D.C., I met a woman named Mavis who advocates for Latin America on Capitol Hill. Mavis’ commitment to our Cuban brothers and sisters and her work to influence Congress to remove the oppressive travel restrictions are strong and undying. Wondering what compels her endless devotion, I asked her about her faith commitment. She described herself as a “marinated Lutheran.” Mavis went on to tell me about not only her marination, but that of her minister husband which has resulted in their living apart for nearly two years while he works in an economically underdeveloped country.

Could I describe myself similarly as a “marinated” Baptist? What would it mean? Steeped in Baptist life, perhaps the marinating started in the womb as my mother carried me while attending WMU, teaching Sunday School and singing in the church choir. The saturation deepened as I saluted to the United States flag, the Christian flag and the Bible in Vacation Bible School — hiding its Word in my heart that I might not sin against God.

My immersion in the baptismal waters at the age of nine was but one more step in the long process, along with the essence of missions being instilled in me as I earned all the charms on my G.A. bracelet and memorized the Great Commission. My submersion in Baptist life was complete with educational materials produced by Baptists as well as college and seminary professors who were Baptist. Upon completion of seminary, I became a pastor, accepted denominational leadership roles and later served a Baptist institution.

Infused throughout my formation as a Baptist has been an understanding and expectation for freedom:
    •Freedom to read, study and interpret the scriptures — guided by the finest Biblical scholarship and streams of church tradition.
    •Freedom to assemble and worship with expressions unimpeded, emanating from the heart.
    •Freedom in local congregations to respond to where God is leading in matters of the heart and of call and service.
    •Freedom from governmental influence in matters of faith and expression of that faith.

And if I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it 100 times from James Dunn as he fishes out a quarter from his pants pocket, holds it between his thumb and forefinger and talks about the two sided coin: with freedom comes responsibility. The freedom that we so cherish carries with it an equal amount of responsibility — moral, social and ethical responsibility that is embodied in love of God and love of neighbor — so much so that I cannot be silent until none lack the freedom that I so cherish.

Perhaps it is because of having been soaked in freedom all my life that I found myself aghast to learn from our Cuban friends that many religious right groups are entering Cuba with a political agenda accompanying a well-financed religious agenda.  Soaked in freedom, I recoil at the recent murder of a physician in the name of religion that took place within the walls of a sanctuary. As a marinated Baptist I shudder at the dis-fellowshipping of Broadway Baptist Church — or any perceived attempts among Baptists to silence the voice of dissent.

The flip side of the coin of freedom is the call to insure, work for, defend, and advocate for the benefits of freedom, not only for ourselves, but for all. Won’t you join the Alliance in engaging in advocacy with our government for the care of the earth, for a fair and honest wage, for peace in the Middle East, and for the lifting of travel restrictions to Cuba? When we exercise the freedom that is ours, we are truly living as marinated Baptist.