On Missing the Southern Baptist Convention Annual Meeting

I’m no longer on the beat, but you’re still welcome to quiz me on SBC polity.

It’s always this time in June. On Instagram, I saw my old photos of press badges, convention halls, giant signage, and happy hours with fellow reporters. But this week, more than 20,000 Southern Baptists gathered for their annual meeting, and for the first time in eight years, I wasn’t there.

I spent a fair amount of my time at Christianity Today covering Southern Baptists, the biggest denomination in the US. Even when I moved into editorial leadership, I remained the one reporting on the SBC. At that point, I was in too deep to transfer over the knowledge and network I’d built.

The convention remains hugely influential on the evangelical landscape, and with its size, scope, and history, it comes with baggage: politics, factions, financial stakes, drama—some of which we saw come to the forefront in recent years as the denomination clashed around the issue of abuse.

I can remember the beats leading up to each annual meeting, talking to pastors ahead of the event and planning preliminary stories. In the giant convention hall, I’d sit corralled in media tables with fellow reporters, taking down quotes, scanning the room during votes, and shuffling around article leads.

Reporting from the SBC Annual Meeting in 2024

Thinking of it now feels like muscle memory or phantom knowledge that I don’t know where to put anymore. What do I do with my mental map of SBC structure, right down to the committee on committees? I worry I’ve built up specialized knowledge that’s not really transferable to life outside the religion beat.

Since leaving Christianity Today at the end of last year, I’ve had a lot of moments where I’ve felt the exact opposite: where something I assumed was a niche skill of mine turns out to be perfectly applicable in new settings and formats. I haven’t had to wonder what to do with my sense of story structure or editorial judgment; they transfer just fine.

Though I’m no longer expected to send dispatches from the largest parliamentary meeting in the world, though nobody’s quizzing me on my mental Rolodex of SBC leaders, this work still sits in my mind and memory. I have to trust that there are lessons to take from it.

Covering the SBC taught me that in places that are complicated, it’s useful to take the time and effort to understand the intricacies, but it’s more important to never lose sight of the people. When you’re surrounded by institutional complexity, it can feel like the structures, systems, and statements are forces of their own. But there are people behind all of them and, though we don’t always see them, many more who are affected by their decisions.

I remember the massive rooms where the votes made headlines but also the after-hours gatherings where pastors worshipped, prayed, and repented, and the small rooms where advocates and survivors shared their testimonies and cried. The people are always the point.

News hook

I’ve been thinking about the SBC ever since I read Robert Downen’s Texas Monthly investigation into the life and legacy of Paul Pressler: “He Remade the Southern Baptist Convention in His Image. Then Came the Abuse Allegations.”

It’s a masterful account of denominational politics, US politics, the SBC abuse crisis (which Downen’s earlier reporting exposed), and the twisted aftermath. I found it haunting in its familiarity—his article weaves together storylines, sources, and news events I covered in pieces at Christianity Today—and heartbreaking to see all together.

It’s so tragic that it’s hard to recommend but I think it’s important and the best, fullest account I’ve read—and a strong example of always keeping the people at the center of the story.

End on a good note

Moment of delight:

I have listened over and over to this segment on Mike Birbiglia’s Working It Out podcast where he asks Jack Antonoff to help him with a song about pizza commercials (it starts at 36:53 in this YouTube clip). Mike is funny as always, and the song is so much lovelier than it needs to be. 🍕

Closing word:

I recently read from A Liturgy for Leavings (Every Moment Holy) as we said goodbye to friends who are moving. I love the line about stewarding the stories of those we meet.

Let us therefore go forth
and steward one another’s stories.
Let us journey from here together, as vessels
of that mercy and as stewards of that
wild and wondrous beauty that flows from the
heart and mind of our Creator.

Grant, O Lord, that we might take
our leave of one another now,
feeling a right joy for the blessings
of the hours we have shared,
even as we feel a bright and
hopeful sorrow at their close.