Review: The Texas Baptist Crucible

“What you are about to read is real” is the opening statement of the prologue to James Spurgeon’s The Texas Baptist Crucible. Of course, the moment you hear that phrase you immediately begin to question what you are about to read. It’s almost as if the phrase casts the story into more doubt than the actual story does. Such is not the case with Spurgeon’s work. We can trust him on the phrase; the real work is dealing with the actual story.

The Texas Baptist Crucible, the larger, published form of “Tales from the Temple,” is a collection of stories of James’ experiences at Texas Baptist College / Longview Baptist Temple, the epitome of independent Baptist “fundamentalism.” The book description states:

When he was ten years old, James converted to Christianity in a Southern California Baptist church. After graduating from high school in 1987, James enrolled in Texas Baptist College. Seven harrowing years later, James escaped that cult-like environment with his spirituality and sanity intact. This is his story–a story of struggle, courage, faith, and perseverance. It will make you laugh and cry, make you angry, make you cheer. The Texas Baptist Crucible illustrates the ugly side of legalism, misguided zeal, and misplaced priorities. But it is also a story of grace, and how God often takes us through difficult paths so that we will learn to appreciate what real grace is all about.

The church and school are basically driven by extreme right-wing fundamentalism, here a collection of KJV Onlyism, an ironic mixture of legalism and antinomianism (pointless and random rules that fail to address the “heart of the matter”: the human heart), and the perceived notion that the “noble task” (1 Tim 3:1) of pastoring and teaching is somehow really the “kingly task.” This is the type of school and church where if you display the slightest disagreement with the pastor or teacher, next chapel’s sermon is spent exhausting the fact that you are a type of devil from hell. And the pastor is neither nonchalant nor ambiguous about it. He’ll call you out by name (or at least stand right in front of you, acting as if you are remaining anonymous while the rest of the congregation knows exactly whom he’s talking about), pull you out of your pew by the collar of your shirt, and brand you the rebel ringleader. James Spurgeon knows this, because this is exactly what happened to him, in one of many like-experiences during his days at the Temple and College. “At LBT,” James states, “the pulpit was a whipping post where the fearful and the disloyal were publicly flogged, intimidated, and humiliated in order to keep others in line.”

“Totalitarianism.” “Big Brother.” “Brain Washing.” These are all terms that can be used to describe the leadership of the Temple/College. What the pastor/teacher/staff member says goes, and the student body was trained to think in this way. And the brainwashing certainly took an effect on the students. “Friends” were transformed into snitches. Fellow ministers became competitors (James reminds us of this several times in his recounting of “Bus Ministry” stories and the tactics that were used to get more baptisms on a roster list than another team in order to boost bragging rights, a practice that was approved by LBT staff). Man was glorified, and the kings of men (that is, the Temple pastors and staff) were exalted. “The number of lives that were wrecked,” James tells, “the number of people who were cast aside in our reckless pillaging quest for fundamentalist immortality as Longview Baptist members and Texas Baptist College students was a sad, pathetic, astounding number.” Leaving the College prematurely, or leaving the Temple to pursue ministry elsewhere, was considered abandoning God. This was the mentality that was constantly indoctrinated into the minds of the students.

James writes, “We were like blind sheep following every command without question. To not do so would have meant spiritual defeat for us and the victory of Satan in our lives. And we were treated like infants. …We were totally dependent, both spiritually and in every other aspect of our lives, upon the staff and pastor. This was fostered. We were not to be independent, but submissive.” It is with the purpose of releasing those caught up in the LBT mindset from their indoctrination and exposing the un-Christ-like practices of the Temple and College that James authors his work.

Phil Johnson, in the foreword, appropriately notes, “James writes with unflinching candor. He has an uncanny knack for painting the most vivid word-pictures. But compassion, humility, hope, and charity are predominant colors on his palette. He even manages to put a human face on the very people who labored hardest to eliminate the last vestiges of his humanity.”

At some points of the story, I was cracking up laughing, and then I thought, “Wait… this is a real person’s experience. Should I really be laughing?” Well, James has the humility that allows his real-life experiences to be the subject of both humor and edification. Phil rightly notes, “I’m convinced that one of the main reasons the Lord allowed James to suffer these trials and indignities was to equip him to be an encouragement to others (2 Corinthians 1:3-7).” The book has an interesting mixture of humor and sadness, some stories more humorous than others, and some sadder than others. In many ways, this college destroyed lives. Indeed, apart from God’s grace, it would have destroyed many lives. But the life of James Spurgeon has not been destroyed. It has been afflicted, but for the better good. Trials produce perseverance (James 1:4). Something unique that this book communicates is that you don’t need to be covered in boils like Job in order to suffer. Suffering can come by the hands of a church that claims to preach the Word of God. And yet, through this, the Gospel of Christ is made known ever more, and the cross is exemplified.

James’ stories are terribly addictive. I found myself reading chapter after chapter, non-stop. (I know that if I ever get the chance of meeting James in person, I know what I’ll do: take him out for lunch and beg him to tell me some more stories that were not included in this book). The literary style is what I would call “friendly.” He portrays his stories well. Many of the chapters (each story is a separate chapter) follow the structure of “set-up and punch-line.” But James doesn’t work literary wonders or fill up his book with hyperboles. Rather, what really drives this book is the content. And James relays the content to us in a conversational manner, every now and then spicing a few of his notations with some good-hearted sarcasm. While the primary focus of the book concerns James’ experiences at Texas Baptist College (and, consequently, Longview Baptist Temple), the information, of course, is conveyed through James’ own perspective. So the reader is made privy into the entertaining moments of James’ life, much like we are sitting at the dinner table with him as he shares some stories of the old days. The reader truly feels like he has experienced a part of James’ life. The chapters do not follow a rigid chronological order, but they certainly follow the logical order of telling the over-all story. Each chapter leads into the next (topically), even if the event did not follow chronologically. For this reason, the book can be viewed either in parts (as a bunch of short stories that can be read separately, out of order, or over a period of time), or as a single story read from start to finish. In any case, it is my firm belief that anyone who picks up this book will not put it down until it is complete, and because of its addictiveness, will complete it shortly after beginning it. I certainly did.

Therefore, I, excitedly, pass on to you the link to where you can purchase Mr. James Spurgeon’s book. Enjoy!

Evan May.