Nicholas H. Dean

AFA Journal/Engage magazine staff writer

Above, Don Wildmon and Buddy Smith

December 2015 – “My first memory of Don was of him standing on the floor of the Methodist annual conference delivering resolutions,” recounted Buddy Smith, vice president of AFA. “Things he thought needed to be brought to attention or that the church wasn’t taking action on. There were some in the audience who kind of elbowed each other and jeered at Don, saying, ‘There goes Wildmon again, on one of his rants.’”

But Smith saw a bold speaker who, despite some derision from his peers, admonished listeners that if God speaks to a truth in Scripture, the church should speak to that truth in culture. More than boldness, though, was a sense of compassion.

“I could hear in Don’s voice a deep sincerity. Here was a man with a huge heart,” said Smith.

Over the past 38 years, American Family Association has built a legacy on standing for biblical truth in the midst of a culture prone to forgetting it. And as the culture war has raged, the organization has been maligned as everything but a collection of men and women intent on sharing the truth and grace of Christ with the world around them. The result has been, among other things, a collection of men and women who are battle-weary.

In that weariness, the hearts for grace behind the calls to action can be overshadowed. AFA Journal recently sat down with Buddy Smith to gain insight into his own history with AFA.

From problem to action
For Smith, it all began in the mid 1980s. As a pastor in a small town of the Mississippi Delta, Smith also oversaw his church’s daycare program. Across the street was a video store gaining some negative attention from concerned parishioners. The store had recently opened a “backroom,” a term many readers will remember as synonymous with the not-so-secret collections of pornographic videos carried in the heyday of VHS rentals.

The concern, differing from today’s typical conservative dialogue on infringement of religious freedoms, was entirely rooted in concern for the children across the street in the daycare center. Parents and Smith had read of the many risks associated with pornography and rightly fretted over seeing those dangers so close to the most vulnerable.

Carrying not only the concern of many, but also the responsibility of shepherding the many, Smith took his concerns to the manager of the video store. But being more interested in the income from sales of the pornography, the manager offered Smith some polite iteration of, “Get lost.”

At a loss of what to do next, Smith called Don Wildmon, who had founded AFA (then National Federation for Decency) in 1977. Wildmon baited Smith in a friendly manner and said, “I can tell you what to do, but you won’t do it.”

“Try me,” Smith answered.

Wildmon told him to rent one of the pornographic films and play it for the chief of police. Smith accepted the challenge and headed to the video store.

“Reverend, you don’t want to go in there!” were the clerk’s words as Smith made an awkward beeline for the backroom.

His actions, both risky and unorthodox, should remind readers that sometimes believers must go into the darkness to do battle with it. Being in enemy territory, though, placed Smith in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar spot. In the backroom, he saw another man whom he recognized. Smith asked the only question that came to mind.

“Got one you’d recommend?”

After taking the gentleman’s recommendation and proceeding through a troublesome checkout, Smith contacted the chief of police. The two met, and Smith played the tape for the chief.

Smith continued to follow Wildmon’s guidance step by step, contacted the district attorney who advised the chief of police to deliver copies of Mississippi’s obscenity law to video stores, with the intention of a sort of cease and desist.

“Something happened,” Smith said. “We took action, and it seemed like we got results. The stores in our town closed their backrooms. So there I was, mission accomplished, and so I called Don.” Far from the pat on the back he was expecting, Smith was met with another challenge from Wildmon.

“You’re not done, yet,” Wildmon said. “You have to call the local papers and TV stations to bring media attention to the cause and keep the video stores accountable.”

From pastor to activist
Within days, the story was on the front page. Smith was hounded by reporters. The war was on. Whether he had intended it or not, this small town pastor had become small town activist.

In the years that followed, Smith was invited to become a board member for AFA and served in that capacity for six years. As time passed, and his involvement with AFA grew deeper, Smith recalls fondly how he learned the heartbeat of the organization and felt his own heart lockstep.

“Here were Christian people who were concerned for their fellow man and the community they lived in,” he shared.

Smith began to feel a stirring in his spirit. He had seen the impact of standing for truth in his own community, and was taken with the mission of AFA. For as long as he could remember, though, he had felt called to be a pastor in the context of a local parish. Spiritual stirring led to curiosity, and curiosity to much prayer.

“Is my calling as a pastor taking me to a new context?” he asked the Lord.

As a board member, he had been actively considering the various areas of ministry in which AFA could grow. For him, nothing seemed clearer than the need for some sort of children’s ministry component. Smith’s wife Carol was particularly gifted in children’s ministry, and so for a time, Smith thought perhaps it was his wife and not himself who was being called to AFA. When the two of them finally discussed it, Smith’s wife told him she was sure it was he who was needed at AFA. Their conversation had a galvanizing effect.

“There was something about the words my wife said, or maybe the way she said them,” Smith recalled. “I just suddenly felt sure.”

Not long after, Smith went to speak with Don Wildmon, now a friend, at his AFA office. Smith well remembers Wildmon’s smile and his first words.

“You’re here to ask me for a job,” Wildmon said.

It took a few weeks to work out the details, but with time, conversation, and prayer – Smith soon found himself AFA’s liaison to affiliates across the nation. More than 20 years later, Smith is more certain than ever of the heart behind the mission of AFA.  

Click here to learn more about Buddy Smith’s new gospel music CD.