The “First words” section of this issue of Review & Expositor begins with a word on “Liberty of conscience and emancipation,” by Raffaele Volpe, President of the Italian Baptist Union. Volpe argues that contemporary challenges call for a Baptist identity that holds in dialectic tension “the individual and the community, diversity and unity, particularity and universality.” Warren C. (Cal) Robertson assesses one of the newest translations of the Bible, the Common English Bible (CEB). The translators, Robertson concludes, have largely succeeded in their aim “to combine accuracy of translation ... with accessibility and clarity of expression.” Deborah E. Scott contributed the seminarian’s perspective to this issue, a reflection on the importance of scholarly preparation and humility for ministry. She argues, however, that “love matters most,” supporting the assertion with an example drawn from her personal experience involving a pair of socks. In oblique fashion, these “First words” enrich the central focus of this issue. An appreciation for diversity, the need to be accessible, and the power of love expressed through a lowly pair of socks can strengthen ministry to people with disabilities. “So Near, Yet So Far” was the title of one of the first sermons I preached as the young Protestant Chaplain at the Newark State School in upstate New York about thirty miles from Rochester. It was not a sermon in one of the services at that center—one of the old hellhole institutions that had expanded rapidly in the age of eugenics at the beginning of the 20th century. The name of the institution in that period had been a more accurate reflection of its origins: Newark State School for Feeble Minded Women of Child Bearing Age. When I arrived, it was coed, and there were 1400 hundred people in the space that had once held 5000. My sermons there in multiple services around the campus soon focused on the two key spiritual needs in the face of almost overwhelming disconnection from families and communities: creating a sense of belonging to the people of God and a sense of celebrating individual gifts and spirits. The sermon title reflected my own upbringing as a Southern Baptist missionary kid in Nigeria, where my father was a medical doctor. When we were in the States, I accompanied my parents to multiple congregations and Sunday night services or Wednesday prayer meetings where he spoke about “foreign missions.” Newark State School was a paradox, so very near to the world of “normal” congregations but so very far in terms of psychological and spiritual distance. I felt somewhat like a