Huckabee
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As a result, the Beech Street church prospered under Huckabee’s leadership, growing from an average attendance of five hundred in 1986 to more than eight hundred in 1990. The programs he used were similar to those employed at Pine Bluff. He emphasized strengthening the Sunday schools as a means of one-on-one interaction, Bible teaching, and outreach. The church finished the development of its family activities center and became intentional about using it for outreach. And as already noted, the church developed a television broadcasting ministry, again using the ACTS network, as Pine Bluff had done. In addition to the network programming, the church inserted more than thirty hours of local news, sports, Bible studies, worship, and talk shows. All this flowed from Huckabee’s vision for impacting his community: “The traditional ways that we have gone about reaching people will no longer work. If we are going to reach ‘the baby boom generation’ we must institute new methods. It is essential that we do whatever it takes to reach people for Christ.”7
By 1988, the ground began to shift nationally on religious television broadcasting, casting doubt on whether it would continue to be an arena for expressing a positive Christian witness. First, the Southern Baptist Convention decided to sell the ACTS network, divesting themselves of both the costs and the fruit of the ministry. Though Huckabee served as president of the Arkansas affiliates, he received no advance warning and only learned of the decision when a newspaper called to ask him for his response. “It was something of a shock to me to learn that the Trustees of the Southern Baptist Radio and Television Commission have voted to transfer the operation of the ACTS Television Network to a private for-profit corporation,” Huckabee told reporters. “In the past we have had a good solid vehicle for communicating the gospel.”8
Second, this was the season of sexual and financial scandal among televangelists. Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker and Jerry Falwell brought shame on and discredited the entire group of broadcast preachers. As one historian noted, “Televangelists fell on hard times. In the wake of the scandals, audience ratings dropped. So did revenues. As donations to the ministries declined, layoffs were imposed and broadcast airtime was cut back. Public opinion polls registered sharp shifts from favorable to unfavorable. The great electronic tent show of the eighties, if not struck, was collapsing.”9
Even preachers like Huckabee, who never fell into sexual sin or committed financial fraud, still had to defend themselves against the caricature created by the scandalous behavior of others. As a result, whereas a young, talented preacher in 1978 might have entertained righteous ambitions about using television for evangelistic purposes, such an ambition would be the farthest thing from a young person’s mind in 1988. The luster had been removed.
Connected to the televangelism scandals was the demise of the Moral Majority. Not that men like Jerry Falwell committed scandal themselves, but in the swirling vortex of shame, everyone suffered. Operations such as the Moral Majority required major funding, and the financial appeals often took place on the television broadcasts. In the fall of 1987, Falwell announced his resignation from the Moral Majority. “I will not be stumping for candidates again,” he said. “I will never work for a candidate as I did for Ronald Reagan. I will not be lobbying for legislation personally.”10
The Religious Right was still evaluating what had happened during Reagan’s two terms in office. They had helped propel him into the White House but now were wondering what they had gotten out of it. In 1988, Pat Robertson decided the best way for an evangelical leader to influence the next president would be if an evangelical leader actually became the next president. Huckabee took notice of this shift, from Reagan’s “I endorse you” in 1980 to Robertson’s outreach to evangelicals as, in essence, “I come from you.” In Huckabee’s 2008 campaign, he would make similar statements. Robertson ran a spirited campaign but came in third behind the eventual nominee, George H. W. Bush, and second-place finisher Senator Bob Dole, who then became the nominee years later. The Religious Right never became enthused about either of these men, leading to GOP election losses to Bill Clinton in 1992 and 1996.
It is fascinating to see how Huckabee managed to avoid the waxing and waning of two different conservative movements during the 1980s. As a twenty-five-year-old in 1980, he could have moved right on up the national ranks of either televangelism or the Religious Right (or both at the same time). Instead, he went small and local and became a pastor for a decade. True, he became involved in local television broadcasting, but this did not connect him on a personal level to the scandalous behavior of others. As for the Moral Majority types of organizations, though Huckabee had never lost interest in politics and government, he also did not spend the 1980s helping to build up institutions that would mostly dissipate by the end of the decade.
Another of Huckabee’s favorite scriptures is Proverbs 3:5–6: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” His own life story during the 1980s illustrates the message of these verses. A decade worth of full-time local church ministry (ironically, the one career option Huckabee had no intention of pursuing) became the very means for him to avoid being caught up in the scandals of others or giving himself to building up short-lived religious-political institutions. Instead, he was able to spend those years in fruitful service to others, the effects of which continue to this day in those two cities. The churches he pastored are still serving their communities long after he left. And yes, they still offer television broadcasting.
On the other hand, there were some negative aspects to Huckabee’s pastoral ministry. He described how hard it was to keep the church thinking outwardly and on mission. His “Explo ’72” vision of Christians changing the world with the gospel would not allow him to slip into a pattern of quiet and comfortable pastoral ministry focused solely on internal matters at best, or petty bickering at worst. “In my early years of ministry, I was quite idealistic, thinking that most people in the congregation expected me to be the captain of a warship leading God’s troops into battle to change the world,” he wrote. “As the years passed, I became increasingly convinced that most people wanted me to captain the Love Boat, making sure everyone was having a good time.”11
On October 3, 1991, then governor Bill Clinton stood alongside his wife, Hillary, to announce his campaign for the Democratic nomination for president. The next week, the Arkansas Baptist State Convention newspaper printed a letter from Huckabee, then the president of the convention. Huckabee, writing about a recent trip he had taken to Guatemala, wrestled with righteous discontent as he contemplated his own middle-class, status quo, American Christianity. He wrote:
Most good hunting dogs in Arkansas have a much nicer place to stay than those people have for a worship service. A single piece of rusted tin on a hinge was the door. The walls were chicken wire with sticks and corn stalks filling in the gaps. . . .
For so many of us, abundant life would be a nice church facility, a well-educated pastor and staff, a diverse program offering all kinds of recreational and social activities for the members to enjoy. We would insist that our restrooms were sparkling clean, that parking was close to the building, that the pews were comfortable, and the length of the service timed so as not to infringe on the personal schedules. . . .
Yes, maybe we’ll teach our Guatemalan friends a few things about mission strategy, church building, and evangelism, but they may well teach us a great deal more about the good shepherd who came to give us life and give it more abundantly.12
Huckabee looked at the poverty-stricken Guatemalans who struggled in this world. They worked hard to improve their condition, yet they also had their eyes on the world to come. Huckabee seemed to be thinking, Now, this is real Christianity!
Six weeks later, Huckabee gave his final presidential sermon at the state’s annual convention. He exhorted the delegates to be on
the lookout for warning signals indicating spiritual disease in the convention or the local congregation. He said, “We endanger the cause of Christ when we trivialize our faith into ministerial minutia. It’s an unhealthy sign when church people are more interested in how we spend $25 of church money than in where an eleven-year-old spends eternity.” Huckabee warned that pastors become bowed not under the pressure of spiritual battles but under battle over the color of choir robes, Wednesday night menus, and air conditioning.13 Even as he spoke these words, he was in the midst of soul-searching over his own future.
It wasn’t for want of numerical growth that Huckabee grew disillusioned with pastoral ministry. Nor was he embittered or burned out. Instead, he began to wonder if he was really prepared to give a lifetime of service within the local church. Now, to be fair to congregations, one of the tasks of shepherding sheep is to guide them onward, with patience and a long-term perspective. If Huckabee’s sheep needed to be awakened from their middle-class slumber and pettiness, it was his job and calling as a minister to prod them.
After a decade of pastoring, Huckabee had not changed in his opinion of the power of Scripture or the importance of preaching. But he began to realize that if he wished to keep his job, he would have to devote so much of his time to keeping the sheep happy. Or he would have to work hard to change the culture and the mind-set of the sheep—and that would take the commitment of a long pastorate—maybe even a lifetime. Is that what Jesus was calling him to do? The fact that it would be hard work didn’t scare him off the task. In fact, he wasn’t scared off at all. Rather, something else—something outside of local church ministry altogether—had begun to grab his attention once again.
During the final two years of his ministry at Beech Street, Huckabee’s presidential service to Baptists across the entire state of Arkansas created an itch for a broader constituency and a different sphere of ministry than the pastorate of one local church could provide.
CHAPTER 20
CAN’T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?
1989–1991
No, seriously, this is Bill Clinton.
—BILL CLINTON
CHURCH HISTORIANS HAVE FILLED ENTIRE BOOKSHELVES with volumes written to describe the twentieth-century battle for control of the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC), so it would not do justice to the complex history of the nation’s largest Protestant denomination to attempt a retelling of that story here. Suffice it to say, two sides fought for the future identity of the denomination.
Mainline, liberal, moderate, conservative, evangelical, fundamentalist—party labels meant different things depending on who used the term. Even the name for the battle differs depending on who is doing the talking. “Conservative resurgence” or “fundamentalist takeover”? Honest moderates, now mostly residing outside the SBC, today can admit that there really were sincere theological divisions and that their progressive agenda was the historical newcomer to the denomination. But for their part, the moderate group warned against “fighting fundamentalists” who saw every issue as a hill on which to die. Honest conservatives today will admit as much, that it wasn’t always easy to keep fellowship with those coming to the battle from the far right. As one denominational leader said years later, “Once the battle was over, we could acknowledge, privately, that what the liberals said about us was true—half our troops were ‘crazy uncles’ who you didn’t want to let get behind a microphone.”1
The national battles that had taken place since Huckabee was a toddler began to spill over into the state Baptist conventions right about the time Huckabee took his first pastorate in Arkansas in the early 1980s. Then, with the forming of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship in the 1990s, moderates found a new denominational home and moved away from the SBC battlefield. But each Baptist state convention is autonomous—partnered with the national convention, but not under its control. So even as the national battle wrapped up, the stateside battles were just beginning. Each state convention, local association, and individual church had to answer the question, “Whose side are we on?”
It was into this context of a denominational civil war that, in the fall of 1989, Mike Huckabee became the youngest-ever president of the Arkansas Baptist State Convention.
What does it mean to be the president of a Baptist state convention? First, this position does not pay a salary, so the person who holds it (normally a pastor) doesn’t quit his regular job. In that sense, they are “honorary” positions—though that word can convey the wrong idea, that the position influences very little. That is not the case. The exact duties of the president vary from state to state, but the essential work is (1) to serve as a public face of the convention, (2) to appoint volunteers to the various committees that oversee the convention’s entities, (3) to preside over the annual meeting of the convention, (4) to meet with Baptists across the state through continual traveling to meetings, and (5) to cast a vision to the Baptists of the state, inspiring them toward a set of united goals for mission.
Though in modern times, a “layperson” (non-pastor) rarely holds the office, such was not always the case. James Philip Eagle (1837–1904) served as president of Arkansas Baptists from 1880 to 1904, even as he also served as the governor of Arkansas from 1888 to 1892. And for good measure, the national Southern Baptist Convention elected him president three times (1902–1904). Pastors of smaller churches—the kind of churches that make up half the convention—are seldom elected. Given the Southern Baptist’s prohibition against a woman preaching, no state convention has ever elected a woman as president—though the state constitutions probably do not explicitly forbid such an election.
State conventions hold an annual meeting, typically in the fall, where delegates from member churches gather to worship and fellowship together, conduct convention business, and approve strategic plans for united mission efforts. It may seem odd to outsiders, but Baptists have a longstanding tradition of not looking favorably on those who campaign or orchestrate votes for the elected offices of a convention. Such elections are supposed to come as delegates are moved in their hearts at the moment of the convention. That is to say, Huckabee did not campaign for the position of state president.
Baptists hardly even remember they have a convention until ninety days before an annual meeting, and then a flurry of action and talk ensues. During the lead-up to the 1989 meeting, the secular press reported on meetings being held with talk of a takeover of the convention. A newsletter called “A Conservative Voice in Arkansas” began to be printed by a pastor in northeast Arkansas, in reaction to the perception by some that the newspaper sponsored by the state convention was biased against conservatives. Years later, Huckabee would tell the New York Times that the entire chain of events was “far more political than anything else I’ve ever been involved in.”2
First Baptist Church in Little Rock hosted the meeting in November amid great discussion about the election of the next president. On the third day of the convention, “the sanctuary of Little Rock’s First Church was full from the outset of the fourth session . . . on both the ground floor and in the balcony.” The largest ever number of delegates—1,602—had registered by that point. The floor was opened up for nominations for president: “Dennis Swanberg of Hot Springs nominated Ronnie Floyd, pastor of Springdale First Church. Del Medlin of Cabot nominated Mike Huckabee, pastor of Beech Street First Church in Texarkana.”3 Floyd, a pastor in northwest Arkansas, was the conservatives’ nominee. On the other hand, Huckabee was the nominee who would say things like, “If all the ‘liberals’ in Arkansas Baptist churches held a meeting, they could meet in the corner booth of a Waffle House and still have room for guests.”4
Delegates cast their votes: “808 to 443. Huckabee received 64.6 percent of the 1,251 ballots counted.”5
At the close of the meeting, president-elect Huckabee gave the benedictory prayer. “He told them that, desp
ite the tension surrounding the presidential election, there was no personal tension between himself and Ronnie Floyd,” the paper reported. “He said that the lordship of Christ is the ‘common ground’ on which all Arkansas Baptists should come together, and he declared, ‘There is a place for everyone in the state convention.’ ”6
Both Huckabee and Floyd would later admit their theology did not differ from one another’s, but Floyd said that the conservatives “were not sure Mike was committed enough.”7 Although Floyd never became the president of the Arkansas convention, he continued to lead his church to spectacular growth and effectiveness. And he wound up serving his denomination in key leadership roles, including his service as the president of the bigger ship, the national convention (2014–2016).
“The 1989 meeting of the Arkansas Baptist State Convention at First Baptist Church, Little Rock, may have been the best state convention held in many years,” the editor of the Baptist state paper wrote in an editorial. “The election of Mike Huckabee, pastor of Beech Street First Church, Texarkana, as president of the state convention assures Arkansas Baptists of conservative leadership which will be fair to everyone in the convention.”8 In that last phrase, Sneed tipped his hand to reveal his view that Floyd would have made appointments to committees based on his own network of “conservative” pastors—and that Huckabee wouldn’t. To borrow a phrase from the world of secular politics, Huckabee favored a bipartisan approach.