Me

I have a friend who believes that the litmus test for masculinity is whether or not a man has seen—and loves—the movie, Braveheart. I’m not sure I’d go that far, but it is certainly a movie that inspires me to be a better man; to show courage, to remain true to my convictions, and to fight for what is right—even in the face of persecution and death.

Although the film tells the story of Scottish freedom fighter William Wallace, the very end of it focuses on Robert the Bruce. He was the heir to the Scottish throne who led his countrymen into the Battle of Bannockburn. In the words of the narrator of Braveheart:

In the Year of our Lord 1314, patriots of Scotland – starving and outnumbered – charged the fields of Bannockburn. They fought like warrior poets; they fought like Scotsmen, and won their freedom.

(I always get goosebumps when I hear—or read—those words; and I feel blessed that I’m at least 1/8th Scottish.)
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Dear Grace Baptist friends and family:

Greetings from Atchison, Kansas and the campus of Benedictine College!  As ever, God continues to be good to me, but I do miss the Little Apple and all the blessings that came with it.  Those blessings include, but are not limited to, the coffee at Bluestem Bistro, Aggieville on Game Day, Kay Bollman’s cooking, Dave Huebner’s sense of humor, nice conversations with Dorothy Tarrant, the greatest youth group kids in the known universe, and of course, all of you.  “I thank my God every time I remember you” (Phil 1:4 ESV).

Not long ago, I received a call from an elder at Grace Baptist notifying me that the elder board would be voting to revoke my ordination to gospel ministry.  The man who called me was warm and friendly, affirming and encouraging, and indeed, he talked to me like I was his own son—which is appropriate, since he’s always been like a father to me.  He explained to me that the elders’ action was not intended to be punitive or mean-spirited.  Given my decision to join the Catholic Church, he said, the elders viewed it as a reasonable and appropriate measure.

I am writing this letter to let you know that I wholeheartedly agree.  I consider the action to revoke my ordination as entirely appropriate and just.  I am no longer a Baptist minister; so, it is entirely reasonable for Grace Baptist Church to end my ordained status.

Of course, this does not mean that I think my ministry among you was performed in vain, nor does it change how much I love this congregation.  The last year of my life, I have reflected on how little I gave to Grace Baptist and how much I received from it.  I frequently failed, but God—and you—frequently blessed me anyway.

My confidence is this: the work that God began in me at Grace Baptist, he finished. My weaknesses and shortcomings were no obstacle for his sovereign work in my life.  So, I am thankful.  I am thankful for my time at Grace Baptist, thankful for all of you, and thankful that “Our God is in heaven; he does whatever pleases him” (Psalm 115:3 ESV).

In light of his recent resignation, I also want to take a moment to express my love and support for Pastor Bob Flack, Lynn, and their family.  When I was at Wheaton College, I read a book by Kent Hughes called Liberating Ministry from the Success Syndrome. The majority of the book is spent defining what biblical success is.  Success is not having a charismatic personality.  Success is not having style without substance.  Instead, success is…faithfulness, serving, loving, believing, prayer, holiness, and attitude.  According to that description, Bob Flack was an incredibly successful pastor at Grace Baptist Church.  To the extent that he continues to persevere in faith, hope, and love, I believe his best years are ahead of him.  As you send him off, please make every effort to richly bless him.

Sadly, the character qualities Pastor Flack possesses are rare—even among pastors.  So, I will pray hard for you, brothers and sisters.  Finding a replacement will not be easy.  But I believe, too, that God wants to bless the future of Grace Baptist Church.  I encourage you to rally around the current staff as they seek to minister without a senior pastor.  Serve them as they faithfully serve you.

Finally, I understand that many (if not most) of you may not understand or agree with my decision to join the Catholic Church.  But I hope we can agree on this:  whether it is a local church in Manhattan, Kansas or the universal Church headquartered in Rome, we are all of us desperately dependent on the grace of God in Jesus Christ. God knows his people make a mess of things.  As a wise saint once said, “the greatest testament to the grace of God is the continued existence of his Church.”  Let’s all pray for one another,  that “our love may abound more and more” (Philippians 1:9 ESV) and that  “we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ,” (4:13 ESV).

The peace of Christ be with you all,

Vaughn

My job description at Benedictine College now includes working for the Gregorian Institute, which seeks “to contribute to the renewal of Catholic culture and freedom of religious expression in America.”  One of my responsibilities is to help produce content for The Gregorian Blog.

I asked my friend, Ron Ratliff, to write a blog post that shared helpful lessons from the life of G.K. Chesterton.  Ron is a reference librarian and adjunct professor at Manhattan Christian College (KS) who has published works (and delivered lectures) on both C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton.  He entered the Catholic Church at 2011′s Easter vigil.

I think you will be encouraged by Ron’s post.  You can read it here.

At one time, I might have been confused—or even offended—by Saint Paul’s words in Philippians 3:17-21. But now that I’m a Catholic, I’ll give the apostle to the gentiles a good ‘ol fashioned baptist ‘Amen!’ Because he shares a strategy for holiness that my Protestant brethren—if they really thought about it—might find utterly scandalous. What is that strategy?

Focus on someone other than Jesus.
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During my sophomore year at Wheaton College, my roommate Erin Ahnfeldt had to write a paper for his Literature of the Western World class.  Writing papers did not come easily or quickly for Erin, who often stayed up pulling all-nighters to finish his assignments.  But what Erin lacked in speed, he surely made up for in discipline and diligence.

That night, I went to sleep around 10:30 p.m. as Erin had just begun composing the first paragraph of his fifteen page paper.  Throughout the night, I would wake up from time-to-time, hear his now-obsolete and outdated Smith-Corona electronic word processor beep, chirp, and hum as he methodically, but slowly pounded out his paper, and I’d check in with him:

“How’s it going, Erin?”  I’d ask.

“Alright,” he’d answer with a sigh.  “I’m on page 7.”

As the night passed into the wee small hours of the morning, Erin became more and more exhausted; his face ashen, his eyes bloodshot.

As the sun began to rise over the western suburbs of Chicago, and its rays began to flood our dormroom, I woke up to hear Erin let out a huge sigh and I heard him say, “Finally.”

But then, something strange:

I heard the flip of a switch.  A click.  And a word processor powering down.

There was a pause.  Silence.

“Oh, no,”  Erin said.  “Oh no oh no oh no.”

Erin?

“Oh.  No.”
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I’m not ashamed to admit it.  I’m a fan of Anne of Green Gables.  And I thought of that story when I read Saint Paul’s words in Philippians 3:1-10.

Both Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea tell the story of how a precocious orphan with red hair named Anne Shirley came to be adopted by Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, a brother and sister in their fifties who live together at Green Gables, a farm in Avonlea on Prince Edward Island in Canada.  Anne is bright, quirky, and extremely imaginative.  And she has a way of getting herself in trouble.

Anne of Green Gables recounts Anne’s adventures in the country school and in the local community.  She excels in her studies, aspires to be a great author and English professor, and dreams of traveling the world.  In the meantime, though, she maintains a fierce rivalry with Gilbert Blythe, whom she “hates” because on the first day of school, he teased her about her red hair.  By the end of the first book, however, her anger subsides and the two become friends.

Anne of Avonlea is where the plot really gets good.  After graduating from high school, Anne begins teaching at Avonlea school.  Soon after, she attends Redmond College, where she excels in academics and is courted by the darkly handsome Roy Gardner.  By this time, Gilbert Blythe has professed his love for Anne:

Anne Shirley: You just think that you love me.

Gilbert Blythe: Anne, I’ve loved you as long as I can remember. I need you.

He has always love her, but she does not recognize her closeness to Gilbert as love.  She rejects him ultimately because her vision of love is rooted deeply in sentimental fantasy and feelings.  And her aspirations and ambitions keep her from recognizing what she has in Gilbert.

After Gilbert falls deathly ill with typhoid fever, however, Anne finally wakes up.  Thankfully, Gilbert recovers.  And in a scene that causes me to pump my fists and cheer, Gilbert’s persistent love finally pays off:

Gilbert Blythe: It’ll be three years before I finish medical school. Even then there won’t be any diamond sunbursts or marble halls.

Anne Shirley: I don’t want diamond sunbursts, or marble halls. I just want you.
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