Pastor Anniversary Quotes

1995, for example, on the occasion of its 150th anniversary, the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) officially apologized for “condoning” racism. The SBC resolution in part stated, “We apologize to all African Americans for condoning and/or perpetuating individual and systemic racism in our lifetime, and we genuinely repent of racism of which we have been guilty, whether consciously or unconsciously.” Gary Frost, a black pastor who is a SBC second vice president, formally accepted the apology. He said, “We pray that the genuineness of your repentance will be reflected in your attitudes and in your actions.”1

As the process of reform unfolded, Zwingli came increasingly to see himself as a prophet to his people. Like the prophets of the Old Testament, the “shepherd” or “watchman” (Zwingli’s preferred words for pastor) needed to guard zealously the flock against attacks from the evil one and be ready to die fighting for the cause of Christ.

On Sept. 26, 2012, an American pastor named Saeed Abedini who was visiting family and fellow Christians in Tehran was dragged out of the private home he was staying in and hauled away to jail by Iranian Revolutionary Guards. Friday marked the second anniversary of his imprisonment, and for the last two years he has been beaten, abused and subjected to solitary confinement for weeks on end in Iran’s most notoriously dangerous prisons for the crime of professing his Christian faith. Pastor

Last November, for example, on the 34th anniversary of the day Americans were taken hostage in Iran—known as “Death to America Day” in Iran—Pastor Saeed was moved to the incredibly brutal Raja Shahr prison. It was a deliberate act of defiance to the United States. Nonetheless,

Just days from the second anniversary of Pastor Saeed’s incarceration, President Obama gave a major speech to the United Nations General Assembly. He focused on issues such as Ebola, ISIL militants in Iraq and the Russian invasion of Ukraine—all crises worthy of the attention of the American president and the United Nations. But entirely absent from his remarks was the grim threat posed to the United States and our allies by a nuclear-armed Iran. In the very few words he devoted to the subject of Iran, President Obama offered the Iranians the “opportunity” to resolve the nuclear issue by "assuring the world" that their program is "peaceful.” There was no mention of the many outright lies the Iranians have told about their program over the years. There

I received a phone call from England one evening. It was about three in the morning in England. I said, “What in the world are you people doing up this time of night?” They said, “Oh Pastor, Pastor! We just had our one year anniversary, and we had over one hundred people here. We are celebrating how many people have been saved and what God is doing in this place, and we just want to thank you and thank the Temple Baptist Church, that God has used you to make all of this possible.” I thought to myself, “God said, ‘You bring; I will prove.

The photos hide everything: the twenties that do not roar for the Hoels. The Depression that costs them two hundred acres and sends half the family to Chicago. The radio shows that ruin two of Frank Jr.’s sons for farming. The Hoel death in the South Pacific and the two Hoel guilty survivals. The Deeres and Caterpillars parading through the tractor shed. The barn that burns to the ground one night to the screams of helpless animals. The dozens of joyous weddings, christenings, and graduations. The half dozen adulteries. The two divorces sad enough to silence songbirds. One son’s unsuccessful campaign for the state legislature. The lawsuit between cousins. The three surprise pregnancies. The protracted Hoel guerrilla war against the local pastor and half the Lutheran parish. The handiwork of heroin and Agent Orange that comes home with nephews from ’Nam. The hushed-up incest, the lingering alcoholism, a daughter’s elopement with the high school English teacher. The cancers (breast, colon, lung), the heart disease, the degloving of a worker’s fist in a grain auger, the car death of a cousin’s child on prom night. The countless tons of chemicals with names like Rage, Roundup, and Firestorm, the patented seeds engineered to produce sterile plants. The fiftieth wedding anniversary in Hawaii and its disastrous aftermath. The dispersal of retirees to Arizona and Texas. The generations of grudge, courage, forbearance, and surprise generosity: everything a human being might call the story happens outside his photos’ frame. Inside the frame, through hundreds of revolving seasons, there is only that solo tree, its fissured bark spiraling upward into early middle age, growing at the speed of wood.

Over and over again in our music, liturgies, displayed artwork, and language and word choices, we have reinforced the idea that white is holy and black equals sin. These passive suggestions have created an entire subconscious theology of race. For example, most pastors wear a white alb or surplice while they lead worship—using whiteness to represent baptism, purity, and closeness to the creator. We’ve never stopped to ask why we equate the color white to goodness. Every day we sit in church, we are being subtly fed this narrative about whiteness—a narrative that is at work in all of us consciously or subconsciously. The person who administers the sacraments: clothed in white. The colors of resurrection and ultimate victory: white. The candle you light at the anniversary of your child’s baptism: white. The message is clear, whether we realize it or not. White equals pure. And the inverse is also true: the absence of white—darkness or blackness—equals bad or evil.