Joby, Who Wrote the Fundraising Script?

Folks, I've seen some slick megachurch fundraising pitches over the years, and I've written about plenty of them. But I'm not sure I've seen something like this, where two megachurch pastors, apparently using the same church consultant, give nearly identical sales pitches for a two-year financial commitment from the members.

If you're attending Joby Martin's Church of Eleven22 here in Jacksonville, Florida and getting ready to make your big two-year financial commitment to his "Neighbors to Nations" campaign, DO NOT fill out that commitment card until you've watched this video. Seriously. Before you pledge a dime of your family's hard-earned money, you need to see something.

WATCH: Joby Martin and Josh Howerton's Nearly Identical Fundraising Presentations

It turns out Joby has a fundraising twin out in Texas! His name is Josh Howerton, pastor of Lakepointe Church, and he's conducting his own two-year fundraising initiative called "Into the Breach."

Although after watching these presentations, I'm thinking "Into the Britches" might have been a more appropriate name, considering how deep they're encouraging church members to reach into their pockets!

But seriously, the similarities are jaw-dropping. Nearly identical language, commitment cards, giving calculations, and appeals to consider donating from savings, investments, and other accumulated assets.

Which raises a very important question: Who actually wrote these fundraising pitches? Did Joby and Josh collaborate? Did one copy the other? Or did both purchase the same professionally developed fundraising presentation from a church consultant? The video raises questions about Generis, a church fundraising consulting company, although its involvement with either church has not been established.

And there's something else that troubles me.

One of Joby's favorite sayings is that "obedience doesn't always make sense." He frequently emphasizes the competing voices people hear when making decisions about obedience generally, and generosity specifically in this campaign. One encourages giving; the other causes hesitation and second-guessing.

But why should hesitation automatically be treated as spiritual opposition?

Suppose a father is considering committing a substantial portion of his family's savings to Eleven22. Maybe that nagging voice telling him to reconsider isn't Satan. Maybe it's good judgment. Maybe it's his responsibility to provide for his family. And maybe God doesn't want him making that commitment at all!

Here's another possibility: What if the truly destructive decision would be giving away money his family desperately needs, leaving them financially vulnerable?

Since when did exercising financial judgment become a sign of spiritual disobedience?

I'm not suggesting Joby is deliberately trying to deceive anyone. I've long admired his authenticity and ability to connect with people. But that's precisely why I find these apparently scripted fundraising presentations so troubling. Is this Joby's heartfelt-plea that God laid on his heart, or is it a fund raising consultant script designed to get money into the coffers of 1122 to finance their continued growth? 

Church members should never feel that questioning a major financial commitment means they're listening to the devil rather than God.

Before you commit two years of your family's income or savings, watch the video, ask questions, and think carefully. You don't owe anyone an explanation for making a responsible financial decision.

And Joby, I think your congregation deserves an answer to one very simple question:

Who wrote your fundraising script?

Joby Martin Just Kicked a Door Down - Bravo, Joby!

There are plenty of things I have criticized about megachurch pastors over the nearly 20 years I've been writing the FBC Jax Watchdog. So when I see something worth applauding, I'm going to applaud it. And what Joby Martin just did at his church's Saturated 2026 deserves some applause.

I've watched a lot of Joby Martin over the years. And I mean A LOT. This guy doesn't just preach sermons at The Church of Eleven22. He is everywhere. Podcasts. Interviews. Long-form conversations. Q&A sessions. Roundtables. You name it. There may not be another megachurch pastor in America who has put more of his unscripted theological thinking out there for public consumption. And that matters, because when somebody talks that much, eventually you find out what they really believe.

With Joby, there isn't much mystery. Nobody seriously listening to this guy could mistake him for some squishy theological liberal. Eleven22's own statement of faith is thoroughly evangelical, and Joby's preaching and countless public conversations make his theological orientation unmistakable. He has spoken plainly on abortion, marriage, sexuality, trans'ing the kids, and a host of other cultural and theological issues. He isn't afraid of controversial subjects, and he isn't particularly interested in tailoring his theology to whatever happens to be culturally fashionable.

Which is precisely why what happened at Saturated this year is so interesting. Joby Martin invited Jennie Allen to preach. Not to lead a women's breakout session. Not to come talk to the ladies on Saturday morning. She was one of the featured speakers at Saturated 2026. Look at the lineup: Pastor Robby Gallaty. Jennie Allen. Pastor Jonathan Pokluda. Pastor Jason Shepperd. Pastor Joby Martin. That's the official lineup published by Eleven22. Allen preached Thursday evening, September 17, at both the 5:22 and 7:22 services. Eleven22 describes her as a "Bible teacher, bestselling author, and founder of IF:Gathering." The church itself describes Saturated as five days of "worship and preaching."

And preach she did. The response that evening was extraordinary. During Allen's message, people began openly confessing sin and repenting. Allen later described what she witnessed as one of the most remarkable things she had ever seen in ministry. And apparently Joby Martin didn't feel the need to hold a theological press conference beforehand to explain why a WOMAN was standing up there teaching the Bible to MEN.

Good for him. Really, really good for him.

Because for decades a certain segment of conservative evangelicalism has taken a handful of New Testament passages concerning women and turned them into an elaborate system of restrictions governing when, where and to whom a woman may teach the Bible. Can she teach women? Yes. Teenage boys? Well, how old are the boys? Can she speak on a stage if a man introduces her? Can she "share" but not "preach"? Can she give a "testimony" but not a "sermon"? Can she teach men on a podcast but not from behind a pulpit? 

After I left FBC Jax 20 some years ago, I never bought it. I absolutely do not believe the Bible requires Christians to conclude that women are categorically prohibited from serving as pastors or teaching men. Wade Burleson and others have made substantial biblical arguments against the restrictive complementarian interpretation, and I believe conservative Christians can affirm the authority of Scripture without arriving at the most restrictive conclusions concerning women in ministry.

But here's what makes Joby's move particularly significant. Joby isn't some progressive pastor trying to move evangelical Christianity to the left. Quite the opposite. This is Joby Martin. And he simply invited a gifted Bible teacher to teach the Bible. Period.

Perhaps even more interesting is what Jennie Allen said afterward during a Saturated podcast conversation. Allen said that she herself holds a conservative theology regarding male elders. She wasn't trying to launch some feminist revolution at Eleven22. But she also talked about something the church desperately needs to recover: Christian men and women treating one another as brothers, sisters and co-laborers in the gospel. And then she pointed directly to Joby. She described him as her friend, the pastor who had invited her to speak, and someone who treats her as a co-laborer for the gospel.

There it is. No theological panic. No apology. No 14-part sermon series explaining why Jennie technically wasn't "preaching" even though everybody with eyes and ears knew perfectly well what she was doing. She knows the Bible. She can teach. Joby invited her. She preached. People responded. Praise God. Maybe Joby will address this topic on a future podcast, as I'm sure he will be asked about it by one of the many podcasters he engages with week to week. I'll be watching and will report back.

And whether Joby intended it or not, I think he kicked down a door. He demonstrated that a pastor can be unapologetically conservative on Scripture, abortion, marriage, sexuality and the gospel and still recognize that God has extraordinarily gifted women who can stand before a congregation containing both men and women and teach them the Word of God. The sky did not fall. The Bible did not burst into flames. Eleven22 did not suddenly become a liberal church. People heard the gospel and repented. Imagine that.

Now here's another interesting wrinkle. In his sermon following Saturated just tonight, Joby mentioned the remarkable amount of hate mail he had received since the end of Saturated, some from people he said were his friends. That's odd. He didn't say, at least that I heard, exactly what people were angry about. So let me be very clear: I don't know that the hate mail was about Jennie Allen. But I have my suspicions. After an enormously successful Saturated week, what exactly had Joby done that would suddenly send conservative Christians to their keyboards? Maybe there is another explanation. But I wouldn't be surprised in the least if some of it came from the theological hall monitors who saw Jennie Allen standing on that stage teaching men and immediately reached for 1 Timothy 2:12 and gave Joby grief for it. And if that's what happened, I hope Joby doesn't budge an inch. I'm sure he won't and I'm sure he'll have another woman in to preach soon.

One of the things I've increasingly appreciated about Joby Martin is that he seems remarkably comfortable in his own skin. He doesn't come across like a guy constantly looking over his shoulder to see whether the evangelical gatekeepers approve of him. He's a normal guy. He talks like a normal guy. He jokes around. He gets on podcasts and talks for an hour or two without a manuscript protecting him. He answers questions he hasn't seen in advance. He's put himself on the record about an astonishing number of subjects. That is risky. And yet, after all those hours of material, you know what the guy believes. That's authenticity.

I've watched some pastors on podcasts, and they're as boring as can be, some of them not too bright. Joby knows his theology and he knows current events, and the guy has many talents. 

I have watched Jacksonville Baptist pastors for a very long time. I watched the Homer Lindsay era at First Baptist Jacksonville. I watched what came afterward, and it led to total destruction and probably to some extent has fueled the rapid rise at Eleven22 the past decade. And I've watched Eleven22 grow from a church plant into one of the most influential churches this city has ever seen. Last year or so I said Joby Martin might become the next Homer Lindsay in Jacksonville. I was wrong. He has already exceeded Homer Lindsay in reach and influence and it is not even close.

That's not a knock on Homer. It's simply recognition of what has happened. Joby's pulpit is no longer merely Jacksonville. Through podcasts, books, social media, streaming and the extraordinary growth of Eleven22, his ministry reaches far beyond Northeast Florida. And Saturated 2026 showed something else about him that I appreciate: he isn't afraid. He apparently doesn't need permission from the complementarian police before deciding whom God can use to proclaim His Word.

Jennie Allen came to Eleven22. Jennie Allen preached. Men listened. Women listened. People repented. And Joby Martin didn't apologize for any of it.

Good.

Don't start now, Joby.

Wrecking Ball Blow #2: FBC Jax Helps Create the Ergun Caner Phenomenon

It was November 2001. America was still reeling from the September 11 terrorist attacks. Americans were scared, angry, confused and suddenly very interested in Islam. And into the pulpit of First Baptist Jacksonville walked a preacher with one heck of a testimony.

His name was Ergun Caner, and boy, did he have a story. Caner told the packed First Baptist auditorium that he had been raised in Europe, had been involved in "Islamic Youth Jihad," and had been "trained to do that which was done on 11 September." I was sitting there with my family listening to it, and I believed him. Talk about having the right testimony at exactly the right time. A former Muslim supposedly immersed in Islamic jihad, converted to Christianity and now able to explain the Muslim world to frightened American Christians? You couldn't have ordered a better speaker from Central Casting.

There was just one teeny-tiny problem: the dramatic biography Caner was presenting to us didn't hold up. And one of the churches that gave the emerging Ergun Caner phenomenon one heck of a launch into Southern Baptist stardom? You guessed it: First Baptist Church Jacksonville.

Before and After 9/11

Years later, I posted what I still think is one of the most remarkable visual summaries of the whole Caner affair: two photographs of Caner before and after 9/11. I called the post "Caner - Before and After 9/11 Shots."

See the two Caner photographs in my October 29, 2013 Watchdog post

Look at those two pictures. On the left was the pre-9/11 version, known as "Butch Caner" or "E. Michael Caner." As I wrote at the time, he was an obscure preacher who had grown up in Ohio from about the age of three. I certainly don't remember seeing the George Costanza-looking version of Caner making the megachurch circuit.

Then came 9/11, and just a few weeks later Jerry Vines brought a considerably more exotic version of Caner into First Baptist Jacksonville. Now we had "Ergun Mehmet Giovanni Caner." Same guy, much better marketing. Caner stood before thousands of us talking about Islamic Youth Jihad and being trained to do what had happened on September 11. He spoke with an accent, rolled his R's and talked about having difficulty speaking English as a teenager; except Caner had been living in Ohio since he was a small child.

When I wrote about those two photographs in 2013, I described what had happened to those of us sitting in that auditorium with two words: "We were tricked. Bamboozled."

Nine Years Later, I Got the Tape

In 2010, as questions about Caner's biography began circulating on the Internet, I remembered that sermon at First Baptist Jacksonville. I knew what I had heard that morning, but there was a problem: this was November 2001. There wasn't a convenient YouTube archive where I could type "Ergun Caner FBC Jax" and pull up the video.

Believe it or not, First Baptist still had something resembling the old church tape ministry.

And this is where the story gets interesting.

I had a friend who was still a member of First Baptist Jacksonville. Through the church's own resources, that person was able to get her hands on an audio recording of Caner's November 20, 2001 sermon and get it to me.

Think about the irony of that.

One of the most important pieces of evidence in the Ergun Caner controversy didn't come from some sophisticated investigative operation. It came from an old FBC Jax audio tape that had apparently been sitting in the church's own archives for nearly nine years.

I listened to it.

And what I heard was worse than I remembered.

Caner told us he had been "raised in Europe." He said that until age 15 he had been in "Islamic Youth Jihad." Then came the whopper: "until I came to America, until I found Jesus Christ as Lord, I was trained to do that which was done on 11 September."

I posted the audio on the Watchdog.

And I have to imagine there were some people who deeply regretted that the old FBC Jax tape ministry had been so diligent about preserving sermons.

Because as far as I have ever been able to determine, that FBC Jacksonville recording was the surviving record of the sermon where Caner was making some of the most extraordinary claims about his life at the very beginning of his post-9/11 rise. I was contacted by a trustee at Liberty University about that tape, and the recordings I had archived from an Ohio Free Will Baptists website where Caner told outlandish stories of learning about American culture as a teenager in Istanbul, Turkey. Total rubbish. 

Read my March 2010 Watchdog investigation of Caner's FBC Jax sermon

That recording is also why the Caner story became so personal to me. I wasn't investigating something that supposedly happened at somebody else's church. I was there, with my family. I remembered believing that we had just heard the testimony of essentially a former Islamic jihadist who had been saved by Jesus just in the nick of time before becoming one of the people we had watched flying airplanes into buildings. That was precisely why the story was so powerful in November 2001.

We Got the Testimony We Wanted

The really fascinating part is that Caner's actual testimony was already a perfectly good Christian testimony. He had been raised Muslim and converted to Christianity as a teenager. Isn't that enough?

Apparently not for the evangelical celebrity machine.

Regular Muslim kid growing up in Ohio converts to Christianity? Nice. But apparently that doesn't provide quite enough horsepower for the evangelical conference circuit. Former Islamic jihadist raised overseas, trained in terrorism, finds Jesus and arrives in your church immediately after September 11? 

Books, conferences, speaking engagements, seminary positions and packed auditoriums followed. Jerry Vines and other prominent Southern Baptist leaders gave Caner tremendous credibility. And when Caner stood in the First Baptist Jacksonville pulpit, he wasn't speaking at some storefront church next to a laundromat. He was speaking to thousands from one of the most influential pulpits in Southern Baptist life.

That platform mattered. If Jerry Vines had this guy standing in the FBC Jax pulpit telling us this incredible story, surely somebody had checked him out, right? 

Then the Bloggers Ruined Everything

Eventually the Caner controversy became too large to dismiss as pesky Internet bloggers tapping away in their mothers' basements, as Ergun Caner liked to say. I posted the FBC Jax recording so people could listen and judge for themselves, and by the end of 2010 I had written more than 20 articles about Caner. The Watchdog material became part of the larger investigation into the contradictions in Caner's public biography.

Liberty University eventually investigated Caner's public statements and concluded there were factual statements that were self-contradictory involving dates, names and places of residence. His appointment as seminary dean was not renewed.

But what bothered me almost as much as Caner's stories was the reaction from the evangelical establishment. Where were all the guardians of biblical truth? These were guys who could detect theological liberalism at 500 yards. Say the wrong thing about the creation story in Genesis and somebody would convene the discipline committee. Let a woman get within 25 feet of the pulpit and somebody would need smelling salts. (which reminds me of the time Ergun joked to the Ohio Free Will Baptists: "Do I believe in women behind the pulpit? You bet I do, how else do you expect them to vacuum back here if they can't get behind it?")

But when serious questions emerged about the autobiographical claims of a nationally prominent evangelical celebrity, suddenly everybody became very cautious: "Well, we don't know all the facts." Funny how that works.

And amazingly, Caner was back at the FBC Jax Pastors' Conference in January 2011. At the time I argued that putting him back on the program, surrounded again by major SBC personalities, effectively communicated that Caner was back in good standing with the evangelical preaching establishment.

Why This Was Another Swing of the Wrecking Ball

I'm not arguing that Ergun Caner caused First Baptist Jacksonville's attendance decline, and I'm certainly not claiming his 2001 sermon caused the financial problems that eventually resulted in the Main Auditorium being sold. That would be ridiculous.

Caner was a symptom. He showed what could happen when enormous evangelical platforms became fascinated with sensational testimonies, celebrity personalities and incredible stories while forgetting to ask boring little questions such as: Is this true? Did anybody verify it? Should this person really be standing in our pulpit? And when we discover that something isn't true, are we willing to admit publicly that we got fooled?

That's where institutions either correct themselves or begin deteriorating. First Baptist Jacksonville helped give Ergun Caner an enormous platform. The Southern Baptist celebrity machine helped turn him into a star. And when the story eventually unraveled, precious few of the people who helped create the phenomenon seemed particularly interested in standing up and saying, "We got this wrong."

Maybe that's because accountability is considerably more enjoyable when you're preaching it to the people sitting in the pews. It's a little less fun when the sermon on accountability is about you, the "man of God".

The Main Auditorium was still standing. The crowds were still coming, the conferences were still going, the celebrity preachers were still arriving, and everything looked fine.

But another swing had landed.

Wrecking Ball Blow #2.

The Wrecking Ball that Brought Down FBC Jax: Blow Number 1, Homer Died

Before going any further, let's be clear about something.

First Baptist Jacksonville is not dead. The church still exists, it still has a significant ministry, and under Heath Lambert it has made the painful decisions necessary to get itself back onto solid financial footing.

But let's not kid ourselves about what happened either.

The First Baptist Jacksonville of the 1980s and 1990s, the church that was once one of the largest and most influential churches in America is gone.

This was once a church that drew enormous crowds into downtown Jacksonville every Sunday. It hosted one of the premier pastors' conferences in the country. Its pastors were nationally known Southern Baptist leaders. Its downtown campus sprawled across city blocks, and in 1993 it opened an approximately 11,000-seat Main Auditorium because, amazingly enough, they actually needed the seats.

Today, First Baptist isn't even close to being the largest church in metropolitan Jacksonville, much less one of the largest churches in America.

And perhaps nothing illustrates that decline better than what is happening right now to the Main Auditorium.

They're tearing the thing down.

For those of us who were actually sitting inside that building when it opened in 1993, that's difficult to comprehend. This isn't some 120-year-old sanctuary with rotting floorboards and bats living in the steeple. The building is barely more than 30 years old.

The auditorium isn't being demolished because First Baptist Jacksonville ceased to exist.

It is being demolished because the First Baptist Jacksonville that needed an 11,000-seat auditorium ceased to exist.

That's an important distinction.

And that's what I mean when I say the wrecking ball came twice.

The literal wrecking ball is arriving now. The figurative wrecking ball began swinging years ago as the church lost thousands of members, financial resources, national influence and ultimately much of the downtown campus that generations of First Baptist members sacrificed to build.

Heath Lambert eventually inherited the aftermath. To his credit, Lambert made some extraordinarily difficult decisions. He sold property, dramatically reduced the church's footprint and put First Baptist on a sustainable financial course.

But by then, the old First Baptist Jacksonville empire had already been decimated.

So while we're watching the Main Auditorium come down, I thought it might be interesting to go back through nearly two decades of Watchdog history and ask a rather obvious question:

How in the world did we get here?

How does one of America's great megachurches go from needing an 11,000-seat auditorium to watching that same auditorium demolished barely three decades after opening it?

It wasn't one thing.

The wrecking ball swung several times.

I'm going to look at what I believe were the five biggest blows.

And here is blow number one.

Blow #1: Homer Died, and Nobody Was Looking Out for First Baptist Anymore

It would be tempting for me to rewrite history and claim that First Baptist's problems began when church leadership stopped listening to ordinary members.

But longtime First Baptist members would laugh at that one.

Let's be honest.

Homer Lindsay wasn't exactly running a congregational democracy.

Homer ran First Baptist Jax.

Jerry Vines, Homer's co-pastor beginning in the mid-1980s, was the magnificent preacher in the pulpit. But Homer was the guy running the church.

Homer didn't spend his time traveling around the country building the Homer Lindsay Ministries brand. He wasn't constantly looking for the next conference, book deal or opportunity to expand his national profile. Homer was in Jacksonville. He knew what was happening at First Baptist because First Baptist was his life.

And let's not romanticize the governance structure either. The trustees weren't exactly sitting around a mahogany conference table carefully exercising independent oversight over Homer Lindsay.

Homer made the decisions. The trustees knew Homer made the decisions. The congregation knew Homer made the decisions. And Homer knew everybody knew Homer made the decisions.

That was First Baptist Jacksonville.

And Homer didn't particularly care for critics either. Homer would have hated this blog.

Years later, after Homer had died, Vines had retired and the Watchdog was in full swing, Vines returned to preach at the Pastors' Conference. During his sermon he talked about what he did with anonymous critical letters, and therefore presumably anonymous blogs.

He threw them away.

And, as I remember it, he joked that he would spit on them first.

The crowd loved it and giggled and clapped. 

So spare me any revisionist history about the golden age of First Baptist leadership carefully considering anonymous criticism, distributing member surveys and holding listening sessions.

[Revision after posting: I have to be fair to Heath Lambert - one of the aspects of his leadership when he was leading the church through the massive restructuring: huge personnel cuts, selling properties, etc., was he actually held town hall meetings where members could step up to an open microphone and ask questions or air grievances. That was absolutely unheard of in FBC Jax history! Imagine ANY mega church having an open microphone session, live streamed online and posted to YouTube!!  So it certainly was a different day under Heath's leadership as he led them through the darkest period of the church's history]

That wasn't First Baptist Jacksonville.

But there was one enormous difference between the Homer era and what followed.

Homer loved that church.

Whatever you think about his leadership style - and there was plenty to criticize for sure - Homer had a vision for First Baptist Jacksonville. He believed that enormous downtown campus existed to build the church and fulfill what he believed was the Great Commission.

He wasn't building a personal brand.

He wasn't using First Baptist to sell Homer Lindsay books transcripted from his sermons.

He didn't negotiate the intellectual rights to his sermons.

He wasn't selling cruises like "Sail the Danube with the Lindsays" or "Holy Land with Homer" trips

First Baptist wasn't a platform for Homer Lindsay Enterprises, LLC.

It was First Baptist Church of Jacksonville.

Then Homer died.

And in hindsight, I believe that may have been the first swing of the wrecking ball.

As Heath Lambert himself chronicled years later in his podcast series "What Happened at FBC Jax," the decline in membership and attendance began around 2000. Interesting timing.

Because First Baptist's problem wasn't simply that enormous authority had been concentrated in a few hands.

Let's be more accurate.

It had been concentrated largely in one hand: Homer's.

The problem was what happened when Homer disappeared but the system didn't.

First Baptist still had a congregation conditioned to trust its senior leadership. It still had enormous financial resources. It still had tremendous institutional prestige. It still had trustees accustomed to deferring to the senior pastor.

What it didn't have anymore was Homer Lindsay standing there making sure that First Baptist Jacksonville came first.

And slowly, in my view, other interests began creeping in.

I wrote about events such as "A Time to Stand With Israel," which I believed had precious little to do with the actual mission of First Baptist Jacksonville and looked much more like a fundraising enterprise taking advantage of the church's enormous platform.

My criticism of that event apparently didn't win me any Christmas cards from the powerful layman who helped coordinate it. In fact, I have long believed my criticism of that event helped seal my fate when it came to the extraordinary efforts eventually undertaken to discover the identity of the anonymous Watchdog blogger.

Then there was the once-great Pastors' Conference.

I watched something that had been a genuine ministry of First Baptist Jacksonville increasingly resemble a Christian marketing convention.

Products. Promotions. Celebrity preachers. Cruises with the pastor. Holy Land trips.

Apparently the Great Commission needed a travel agent.

Somewhere along the way, it seemed to me that the question changed.

The old question was:

"How can First Baptist use its resources and the sacrificial giving of its members, to accomplish its mission?"

Increasingly, the question seemed to become:

"How can this enormous audience and platform be used to advance the interests and opportunities (and pocketbook) of the senior pastor?"

And that distinction matters.

Homer Lindsay could be controlling. He could be stubborn. He could run the church with an iron fist.

But I never doubted whose interests Homer believed he was protecting.

First Baptist Jacksonville's.

Once Homer was gone, the church retained all the vulnerabilities of the system he had created: concentrated authority, tremendous institutional prestige, trustees accustomed to deferring to the senior pastor, and a congregation conditioned for decades to blindly trust the man behind the pulpit.

What it no longer had was Homer.

And perhaps that was the first swing of the wrecking ball.

The one hitting the Main Auditorium today is just a lot easier to see.

Wrecking Ball Blow #1.

Stay tuned.

We've got four more swings to go.

The Wrecking Ball Came Twice...

...the real demolition of FBC Jax occurred years ago when the first wrecking ball arrived. But now the literal wrecking ball is taking down the main auditorium to make way for a Publix and 11 stories of condominiums. 

A few weeks ago I stopped by the old First Baptist Jacksonville auditorium, where demolition is underway. I've included some of my own photos from a few weeks ago, and some more recent ones that were in the newspaper this week after more demolition has occurred (credited to David Bauerlein and Florida Times Union)

I'll admit, it was a little emotional.

My young family and I were there when this building opened in 1993. At the time, it represented an exciting new chapter in the church's history, and over the next three decades countless worship services, concerts, weddings, funerals, and other significant moments took place inside its walls. For many of us, there are a lot of memories attached to this place.

That's why it's hard to see a building that's only about thirty years old already facing demolition.

The sad reality is that it didn't have to end this way. As downtown Jacksonville experiences a remarkable resurgence, with new residential development, major investment around the Jaguars stadium, and renewed interest in urban living; FBC Jax could have remained an important part of that story.

Instead, years of financial mismanagement, institutional arrogance, and pastors and their sycophants more interested in enriching themselves and their families, left the church with impossible decisions. By the time Heath Lambert became senior pastor, there really were no easy options left. Selling portions of the downtown campus, including this auditorium, wasn't a visionary choice as much as it was a necessary one to deal with the financial realities he inherited.

Over the next few weeks, I'll be sharing some photos, memories, and reflections as this chapter in First Baptist Jacksonville's history comes to a close. Kudos to the current FBC Jax pastor, Heath Lambert, for doing what was necessary to save the church from the years of mismanagement that led to the arrival of the second wrecking ball.