"Hello," a secretary righteously answers.
"May I speak to Dr. Criswell please?"
"Silly," she replies, "he's the past President of the Convention. Dr. Baily Smith is the current President."
"Doesn't Dr. Criswell still run things?"
"Of course," she coos, "just as God ordained."
I giggle remembering being in Chapel service at THE Southern Baptist Theological Seminary ... singing, "My hope is built on nothing less than Scofield notes and Broadman Press ... I was part of the radical fringe."
Ah ... good times!
"Who's the highest person there I can speak to?" I prod.
"Um, Dr. Rogers is on the 5th floor."
The thing about Southern Baptist is they are "literalists."
"No honey, I don't mean how high up they are ... who has the most power I can speak to?"
"I'd have to ask Dr. Criswell," she quickly answers.
"Can I have his number?"
She laughs. "Do you know Dr. Criswell?"
"We've met," I answer. "It was in the bathroom of the Southern Baptist Convention in Dallas. He was at the urinal next to me. We spoke but he didn't want to shake hands."
"I see," she says, suddenly serious. "I can take a message."
"Fine. Have him call me."
She takes my number and gives me hers.
He never did return the call.
To this day it bothers me.
And I wonder why.
