Another Convention of the Same Kind

I attended my first annual meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention when I was nine years old. Our family drove from Paris, Texas, where my Dad was Associate Pastor at First Baptist Church, to Chicago, Illinois.  We stayed in a hotel that was taller than anything I had ever seen. We met in a convention center that seated more people than I had ever seen in one place.  We saw pastors and church leaders of all sizes, shapes, and attire.  My dad may have been the only one wearing Cowboy boots with his suit and tie.  Motions were made, seconded, and passed or failed, none were unanimous, except one motion that we pray for rain (The whole country was in a drought.).    A few men preached.  I was neither impressed nor bored by any on them.  I had already heard more sermons than some would hear in a  lifetime.  Messengers got mad and disagreed with each other, then held hands and sang, “Bless be the tie . . .” My favorite time was in the display area.  All kinds of organizations, schools, and agencies, gave away ball point pens, note pads, and candy.  Some folks from Wisconsin gave away cheese and apple slices. My Dad shook a lot of hands.  I think he knew everyone there.  In a few days we drove back home.  This week, I will attend another annual meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention.  My Dad won’t be there, but there will be Cowboy boots.  Most of the other names and faces will be different.  Nearly everything else will be similar to Chicago.  Long live Southern Baptist!