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This is indeed an improvement on simplistic two-party schemes. If anything, we might even want to add a few more. If, for example, Haberer wants to account for differences among Christians in general (and not just Presbyterians), then he probably needs to make room for Sacramentalists—I'm not sure that the folks whose Christian lives focus in a central way on Eucharistic observance would find themselves within his scheme. And perhaps there is a kind of two-party reality manifested within each of the types: there can be orthodox Confessionalists and liberal ones, people committed to biblical devotion and others who are open to goddess spirituality, and so on with each of the types.

But Haberer is to be commended for pushing us to think about theological conflict in more complex terms.

He is right to say we ought not bear false witness against our church neighbors—by, for example, drawing the battle lines in ways that misrepresent our opponents' motives and convictions.

Nor can we fault Haberer for insisting that dividing denominations often does more harm than good. At one point, he observes that ecclesiastical splits are a lot like the breakup of a marriage. In most cases the so-called "amicable divorce" is a sham. A couple may set out to dissolve their marriage in a friendly manner, but typically things soon turn ugly.

Can we hope for anything better, asks Haberer, when a breakup is "planned and executed for a whole denomination of more than 11,000 congregations and 2 million members"?

The marriage analogy is one that evangelicals especially ought to ponder, since we have typically been tougher on people who break their marital vows than we have on those who dissolve churchly covenants.

Still, a daunting practical challenge must be faced. What do we do if most of our denominational agencies are committed to a cultural agenda that is antithetical to evangelical sensitivities? Suppose the denomination's educational materials, for example, promote sexual values that violate our deepest convictions? What if local judicatories discriminate against candidates for ministry who unashamedly profess that salvation is possible only through the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ? What recourse do we have when we cannot in good conscience support the programs that our denominations offer us under bizarre definitions of "evangelism" or "missions"?

Some mainline evangelicals I talk to regularly worry that such issues are becoming so troublesome that they have no choice but to consider an ecclesiastical divorce. Others simply stay in their denominations while ignoring as much as possible the controversies that are raging in the official assemblies, and maintain their connectedness to the larger body of Christ by associating with parachurch organizations and ad-hoc gatherings of like-minded clergy and laity from other denominations (and "nondenominations").

Yet these solutions surely fall short of the robust commitment to church unity that Haberer advocates. Indeed, following through on his own analogy, such folks seem to be simply biding their time in what they see as bad ecclesiastical marriages. Perhaps as a next step, Haberer needs to write a practical guidebook for evangelicals who want—or at least ought to want—more fulfillment from their "marital" relations.

For all of that, though, we evangelicals need to confess that theological clarity about churchly "connectedness" has not been one of our strong points. Nor is our record of dealing with conflict—with nonevangelicals or even within the evangelical community—anything to boast about. And while Haberer's book may not answer all the complex questions about how to improve our ecclesiastical relationships, it is still an excellent practical handbook to what we might think of as ecclesiastical piety.

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June 11 2001, Vol. 45, No. 8