You Might Be a Southern Baptist If…

My family has been Southern Baptist back before there was such a thing as “Southern Baptists.” Because I’ve recently joined a United Methodist Church, I went online and did a search for a list of “You might be a United Methodist if…” lists. I didn’t get most of them. So I decided to stick with this list. For those of you who might have read it a few years ago when I first posted it, you might notice a few additions/changes.

You might be (or were) a Southern Baptist if . . .

. . . you join a different church and tell people that you’ve “converted” to Methodism.

. . . the Methodists fight over you because they want you on their team for Bible trivia.

. . . you think God’s presence is always strongest in the back three pews.

. . . you think preachers who wear robes are in cahoots with the communists.

. . . you believe you’re supposed to take a covered dish to heaven when you die.

. . . you have never sung the third verse of any hymn.

. . . you think the new pastor who begs the congregation to say amen during his sermon is trying to turn your church Charismatic. (Can I get an amen?)

. . . you know beyond any shadow of a doubt that the “wine” referred to in the Gospels during the Last Supper was actually Welch’s grape juice.

. . . you can quote Robert’s Rules of Order but not the Ten Commandments.

. . . you’re certain that Jesus and the disciples ate fried chicken at the Last Supper.

. . . you clapped in church last Sunday and felt guilty about it all week.

. . . you woke up one morning craving fried chicken and interpreted that as a call to preach.

. . . you have more than one copy of The Baptist Faith and Message—the original (and correct) version.

. . . you help put together a secret committee at your church to discuss how to get the pastor to stick to his thirty-minute time limit so that you don’t get stuck behind the Methodists in line at Luby’s or Piccadilly every week.

. . . you are old enough to get a senior citizen discount at Shoney’s, but not old enough to promote into the senior adult Sunday School department.

. . . you think the Holy Land is in Middle Tennessee. [isn’t it?]

. . . you feel the urge to stand up and sing the doxology after they take up a collection for a charity at work.

. . . you know that alien baptism has nothing to do with extra terrestrials.

. . . you think the general assembly meets before going to Sunday School classes.

. . . you can sing all six verses of “Just As I Am” without looking at the hymn book.

. . . your church has a preacher rather than a pastor, and HIS title is Brother rather than Reverend.

. . . you buy books written in Elizabethan English because the language is easier to understand.

. . . you think “mixed-bathing” refers to men and women swimming within sight of one another at the beach.

. . . you think “academic fellowship” means a bunch of professors having a get together after church, with food involved.

. . . you think “The Association” is an organization your church belongs to and a singing group. (also you are probably reading this through bifocals)

. . . you spent your formative years as a G.A., then an Acteen, and all you have to show for it is a cardboard crown and a painted stick with a star on it.

. . . you alternate your summers vacationing in North Carolina and New Mexico.

. . . people prefer to take you and your friend from church fishing at the same time so that they can have all the beer to themselves.

. . . you think a lecture on the Early Church refers to the 8:45 service.

. . . you throw a dollar in the offering plate at church and take out over fifty cents in change.

. . . your home life refers to something in your magazine rack rather than the quality time you spend away from work.

. . . the seminary your pastor attended took its name from a point on the compass.

. . . “where two or more are gathered . . .” there’s bound to be LOTS of food.

. . . you feel guilty putting your thumb over the edge of your Bible’s cover before the preacher has finished announcing where the sermon text can be found.

. . . you still refer to “Discipleship Training” as “Training Union” or “Church Training.”

. . . you know the pledge to the Bible and the Christian flag and are intimately acquainted with the intricacies of making key racks, pot holders, and anything out of egg cartons.

. . . you consider any music without shape-notes “contemporary.”

. . . in an emergency situation, when asked to do something religious, you take up an offering.

. . . you’re on 6 standing committees (including the Committee on Committees) and three have never met.

. . . you still call it “The Baptist Sunday School Board,” and “The Baptist Bookstore,” instead of “Lifeway Christian Resources.”