Photos by Tom Fox/Staff Photographer
Building technician Micah Lynch hangs banners along an indoor walkway at First Baptist Dallas downtown that mark significant events in the church’s 150-year history.
Building technician Micah Lynch hangs banners along an indoor walkway at First Baptist Dallas downtown that mark significant events in the church’s 150-year history.
The light still shines from First Baptist Dallas
Church’s value speaks louder than pastor’s political clamor
150TH ANNIVERSARY
There’s the heart of a small town beating in the center of the city.
First Baptist Dallas, which turns 150 years old Sunday, spreads over five blocks of downtown and boasts a membership of more than 13,000.
It’s a place both important and misunderstood in our city. If you talk to the people of First Baptist, you will find them welcoming, uncontroversial and possessed of all the connectedness prescribed by Jesus in Mark 12:31: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
The people in the pews maintain this small town even when the church itself is lost in the long shadow of its pastor, Robert Jeffress.
He’s known nationally not as the guy who talks lovingly about Christ but who talks favorably about President Donald Trump.
But First Baptist’s members — at least those willing to talk — pay little heed to the noise around Jeffress and his latest provocative statements. On Sunday, politics aren’t their preacher’s message, the Bible is. That’s why they drive from all over North Texas to fill the massive worship center and historic sanctuary.
Plenty of people disagree passionately with many of the stances that Jeffress and, by extension, his congregation take on social issues.
Those of us who don’t believe homosexuality is a sin can’t fathom worshipping there. The same goes for those of us who embrace the richness of diverse faiths.
So it’s understandably difficult for those outside the church to separate the wheat from Jeffress’ political chaff.
But if you take a moment to look at what this church does and who its people are — and not just what its pastor says on his public soapbox — you might take away a different sense of the importance of this place of worship in the heart of Dallas.
Think back to the night of July 7, 2016, when a gunman mowed down five law enforcement officers in downtown Dallas.
Months before, without notice or fanfare, First Baptist had begun developing what would become a deep bond with Dallas police officers when the church hosted a giant Back the Blue Sunday.
Because Jeffress was out of the country that July night, executive pastor Ben Lovvorn received the text alerting him that officers were under attack not far from his church’s front door. He rousted five other ministers and they made their way to the Baylor emergency room, where many of the victims had been taken.
“We knew there wasn’t a lot we could do, but we wanted to be there to let them know we cared,” Lovvorn recalled in an interview Monday.
“When I walked up to the barricade at the ER, police were everywhere and they said ‘no one is allowed beyond here.’ We said, ‘We’re with First Baptist Dallas,’ and some officers responded, ‘They’re with us’ and they let us accompany them inside. We stayed there most of the night ministering to the families and officers.”
The portrait of First Baptist has been deeply colored by Jeffress’ controversial politics and public absolutions of politicians he likes. But the work the church has done for the Dallas police family should be included in that picture as well.
In fact, First Baptist has continued to build on its strong ties with Dallas police officers by giving scholarships to their children for summer camp and providing the cops post-incident counseling with licensed professionals.
Add that too.
Also include little brushstrokes like these: “As young newlyweds, we were impressed by the many members who had served in the church faithfully for decades,” said Dallas resident Caroline Moore, who with her husband, Eric, and their two toddlers, is one of about 4,000 worshippers on hand each Sunday. “I know every time I walk through the doors that our family is loved. I don’t think this side of eternity I will ever fully comprehend how God has used this church to bless our family.”
These stories, big and small, are too often buried by Jeffress’ latest cable-news statement.
But we shouldn’t overlook First Baptist’s history of service to the city and its day-to-day influence on Dallas just because its pastor seems bent on overshadowing them.
“People think that because of my involvement with President Trump or my appearances on Fox News that we are a highly political church and people are shocked when they come here and don’t hear anything political,” Jeffress said Monday.
“I’ve got Democrat deacons,” he laughed. “We don’t check people’s voting IDs at the door.”
It’s hard to separate the church from its pastor, but what Jeffress says about his congregation is true.
Inside First Baptist’s doors, you’ll find a diverse group of people, with a wide range of age, race and economic status. You can see it for yourself during any of the three Sunday services.
Young singles who feel alone as they relocate to North Texas.
Newly married couples planning for the future. Multigenerational families who have raised their children and now their grandchildren at First Baptist.
Founded in 1868, the church is just a little more than a quarter of a century younger than Dallas itself. It achieved national prominence under the legendary Rev. George W.
Truett, who was named pastor in 1897 and served for 47 years.
Among Truett’s influential civic work was igniting fundraising for the hospital that would grow into today’s Baylor University Medical Center.
With these words in 1903, he challenged the city’s leaders: “I raise a question at this time, a notable period in the history of our city, if, with the rapid growth of the city, there should not be erected a great humanitarian hospital, which would illustrate the glorious result of Christian influence in the community?”
W.A. Criswell, Truett’s successor and a controversial figure in his own right, saw First Baptist run 21 missions throughout the city, including the Dallas Life Foundation.
The church’s more recent community-service philosophy is to partner with experienced organizations already doing effective work. First Baptist families turn the soil and plant vegetables at South Dallas’ Bonton Farms. They hit the streets to identify and keep track of homeless individuals for the faith-based OurCalling. Hundreds will participate in the next Serve Dallas Day, scheduled for Aug. 18.
Members entertain children and visit with parents at Exodus Ministries, which reunites formerly incarcerated mothers with their children. They fill supply needs and volunteer hours at the church’s downtown and Uptown pregnancy centers.
While First Baptist has allowed the Dallas Life Foundation to operate autonomously, church members continue to be heavily involved in serving meals and handling setup for special events.
The church lends a hand far beyond North Texas. After last year’s devastating Hurricane Harvey, members of the Dallas congregation cleaned out churches and houses in flooded southeast Texas neighborhoods, carrying out debris and repairing structures.
At every volunteer stop, they love on those they help — and they share the love of Christ.
While other churches do community work without proselytizing, for First Baptist, that’s not an option. They are called by belief to share their faith.
A thriving downtown church is not only helpful to those in need, it also adds to the momentum that has reinvigorated Dallas’ core. Just five years ago, at a time when construction sites for big church projects were almost all in the suburbs, First Baptist debuted a huge expansion, with a new worship center that seats 3,000, a five-story education building and a parking garage, all linked by sky bridges.
Already, the church is looking at another building project, particularly to accommodate the growing number of children and young families. In the last year, Lovvorn said, more than 1,000 new members have joined the church.
Steadfast trust propped up the 11 hardy pioneers who formed First Baptist 150 years ago. And that same rock-solid faith runs through the congregation 150 years later.
Like all institutions, it’s an imperfect place. Fortunately, a church is not a name, a political ideology, or a man in the pulpit. A church is the people in the pews, people of good heart, who survive all such distractions to do the work commissioned long ago.
That’s why Dallas needs the small town of First Baptist in its downtown core.
Twitter: @SharonFGrigsby
There’s the heart of a small town beating in the center of the city.
First Baptist Dallas, which turns 150 years old Sunday, spreads over five blocks of downtown and boasts a membership of more than 13,000.
It’s a place both important and misunderstood in our city. If you talk to the people of First Baptist, you will find them welcoming, uncontroversial and possessed of all the connectedness prescribed by Jesus in Mark 12:31: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
The people in the pews maintain this small town even when the church itself is lost in the long shadow of its pastor, Robert Jeffress.
He’s known nationally not as the guy who talks lovingly about Christ but who talks favorably about President Donald Trump.
But First Baptist’s members — at least those willing to talk — pay little heed to the noise around Jeffress and his latest provocative statements. On Sunday, politics aren’t their preacher’s message, the Bible is. That’s why they drive from all over North Texas to fill the massive worship center and historic sanctuary.
Plenty of people disagree passionately with many of the stances that Jeffress and, by extension, his congregation take on social issues.
Those of us who don’t believe homosexuality is a sin can’t fathom worshipping there. The same goes for those of us who embrace the richness of diverse faiths.
So it’s understandably difficult for those outside the church to separate the wheat from Jeffress’ political chaff.
But if you take a moment to look at what this church does and who its people are — and not just what its pastor says on his public soapbox — you might take away a different sense of the importance of this place of worship in the heart of Dallas.
Think back to the night of July 7, 2016, when a gunman mowed down five law enforcement officers in downtown Dallas.
Months before, without notice or fanfare, First Baptist had begun developing what would become a deep bond with Dallas police officers when the church hosted a giant Back the Blue Sunday.
Because Jeffress was out of the country that July night, executive pastor Ben Lovvorn received the text alerting him that officers were under attack not far from his church’s front door. He rousted five other ministers and they made their way to the Baylor emergency room, where many of the victims had been taken.
“We knew there wasn’t a lot we could do, but we wanted to be there to let them know we cared,” Lovvorn recalled in an interview Monday.
“When I walked up to the barricade at the ER, police were everywhere and they said ‘no one is allowed beyond here.’ We said, ‘We’re with First Baptist Dallas,’ and some officers responded, ‘They’re with us’ and they let us accompany them inside. We stayed there most of the night ministering to the families and officers.”
The portrait of First Baptist has been deeply colored by Jeffress’ controversial politics and public absolutions of politicians he likes. But the work the church has done for the Dallas police family should be included in that picture as well.
In fact, First Baptist has continued to build on its strong ties with Dallas police officers by giving scholarships to their children for summer camp and providing the cops post-incident counseling with licensed professionals.
Add that too.
Also include little brushstrokes like these: “As young newlyweds, we were impressed by the many members who had served in the church faithfully for decades,” said Dallas resident Caroline Moore, who with her husband, Eric, and their two toddlers, is one of about 4,000 worshippers on hand each Sunday. “I know every time I walk through the doors that our family is loved. I don’t think this side of eternity I will ever fully comprehend how God has used this church to bless our family.”
These stories, big and small, are too often buried by Jeffress’ latest cable-news statement.
But we shouldn’t overlook First Baptist’s history of service to the city and its day-to-day influence on Dallas just because its pastor seems bent on overshadowing them.
“People think that because of my involvement with President Trump or my appearances on Fox News that we are a highly political church and people are shocked when they come here and don’t hear anything political,” Jeffress said Monday.
“I’ve got Democrat deacons,” he laughed. “We don’t check people’s voting IDs at the door.”
It’s hard to separate the church from its pastor, but what Jeffress says about his congregation is true.
Inside First Baptist’s doors, you’ll find a diverse group of people, with a wide range of age, race and economic status. You can see it for yourself during any of the three Sunday services.
Young singles who feel alone as they relocate to North Texas.
Newly married couples planning for the future. Multigenerational families who have raised their children and now their grandchildren at First Baptist.
Founded in 1868, the church is just a little more than a quarter of a century younger than Dallas itself. It achieved national prominence under the legendary Rev. George W.
Truett, who was named pastor in 1897 and served for 47 years.
Among Truett’s influential civic work was igniting fundraising for the hospital that would grow into today’s Baylor University Medical Center.
With these words in 1903, he challenged the city’s leaders: “I raise a question at this time, a notable period in the history of our city, if, with the rapid growth of the city, there should not be erected a great humanitarian hospital, which would illustrate the glorious result of Christian influence in the community?”
W.A. Criswell, Truett’s successor and a controversial figure in his own right, saw First Baptist run 21 missions throughout the city, including the Dallas Life Foundation.
The church’s more recent community-service philosophy is to partner with experienced organizations already doing effective work. First Baptist families turn the soil and plant vegetables at South Dallas’ Bonton Farms. They hit the streets to identify and keep track of homeless individuals for the faith-based OurCalling. Hundreds will participate in the next Serve Dallas Day, scheduled for Aug. 18.
Members entertain children and visit with parents at Exodus Ministries, which reunites formerly incarcerated mothers with their children. They fill supply needs and volunteer hours at the church’s downtown and Uptown pregnancy centers.
While First Baptist has allowed the Dallas Life Foundation to operate autonomously, church members continue to be heavily involved in serving meals and handling setup for special events.
The church lends a hand far beyond North Texas. After last year’s devastating Hurricane Harvey, members of the Dallas congregation cleaned out churches and houses in flooded southeast Texas neighborhoods, carrying out debris and repairing structures.
At every volunteer stop, they love on those they help — and they share the love of Christ.
While other churches do community work without proselytizing, for First Baptist, that’s not an option. They are called by belief to share their faith.
A thriving downtown church is not only helpful to those in need, it also adds to the momentum that has reinvigorated Dallas’ core. Just five years ago, at a time when construction sites for big church projects were almost all in the suburbs, First Baptist debuted a huge expansion, with a new worship center that seats 3,000, a five-story education building and a parking garage, all linked by sky bridges.
Already, the church is looking at another building project, particularly to accommodate the growing number of children and young families. In the last year, Lovvorn said, more than 1,000 new members have joined the church.
Steadfast trust propped up the 11 hardy pioneers who formed First Baptist 150 years ago. And that same rock-solid faith runs through the congregation 150 years later.
Like all institutions, it’s an imperfect place. Fortunately, a church is not a name, a political ideology, or a man in the pulpit. A church is the people in the pews, people of good heart, who survive all such distractions to do the work commissioned long ago.
That’s why Dallas needs the small town of First Baptist in its downtown core.
Twitter: @SharonFGrigsby