In his preface to “Letters to Young Churches,” J. B. Phillips writes: “We commonly suppose that all roads of the human spirit, however divergent, eventually lead home to the Celestial Benevolence. But if we were seriously to think that they do not, that false roads in fact diverge more and more until they finally lead right away from God, then we can at any rate sympathize with what may seem to us a narrow attitude. For example, an ‘unorthodox’ view of Christ which really means that the ‘Bridge’ is still unbuilt, was anathema to these men [the Apostles] who were sure of the truth, and had in many cases known Christ personally. It is at least possible that our ‘tolerance’ has its root in inner uncertainty or indifference.”
In no generation has uncertainty and indifference to the eternal verities of the Christian faith been more in evidence than in our own. Broadness and tolerance are much coveted labels in our day. To call anyone “narrow minded” is equivalent to placing a stigma on one’s character, particularly when referring to the realm of religion.
But we all know that there are areas of both life and thought where men must be intolerant if they are in the right.
The mathematician who insists on certain fixed formulae is not being intolerant, he is being honest. The referee who insists that the rules of the game be observed is not being intolerant but fair. The pilot who demands accuracy in computing speed, wind velocity, or drift is not being intolerant but is protecting life.
Why is it then that we should want Christianity to adopt a tolerance where matters of eternal truth are concerned? That which has to do with the welfare of the soul cannot be subject to the vagaries and foibles of human concepts. To undermine the absolute involves a tolerance not countenanced by Scripture.
The Bible plainly teaches that Christ is the divine Son of God. This was the claim of our Lord and it was affirmed by his disciples. The Epistles repeat it again and again. And John in Revelation bears witness to the fact in no uncertain terms.
The Church was founded on belief in the deity of Christ, and it has been an essential teaching of our evangelical faith through the centuries.
Anything, therefore, that would question or detract from the deity of our Lord must be resisted even unto death.
But the Bible is specific about a number of other things besides this. Nothing is clearer, for instance, than that Jesus died on the Cross for our sins. It is popular to say that no one aspect of the atonement can explain the magnitude of that doctrine in all of its implications. This can be true, but such an omnibus statement must not then be made the cloak for a denial of certain vital parts of that doctrine.
If we contend that Christ died to set an example, let us be equally vigorous in affirming that he died as our substitute, for this is what the Bible plainly states. If we insist that his gracious act of sacrificial love motivates us to turn to him in faith, then let us be equally insistent that we are cleansed from our sins by the blood shed on Calvary.
If we find ourselves associated with Catholics and Jews in some worthy cause, let us be sure that we do not compromise our faith by making an inter-faith enterprise the excuse for denying the uniqueness of Christ and his redemptive work.
We ought to be intolerant where the things of Christ’s person and work are concerned. Our Lord himself was vigorously intolerant. When he said: “… no man cometh unto the Father, but by me” he was pointing the way to eternal life. And when he said: “… ye must be born again,” he was making clear the necessity for new birth.
When the disciples after Pentecost went out to preach a risen Christ there was no compromise in their message. So far as the events they had seen and experienced were concerned, they were intolerant of any compromise.
When Simon the sorcerer suggested that the power to bestow the Holy Spirit be purchased with money, Peter exclaimed intolerantly, “Thy money perish with thee.” The determining factor for Peter was God’s revealed will. When it was made clear to him in the house of Cornelius that salvation was for all men, he submitted saying: “Who was I that I should resist God?”
When Elymas the sorcerer tried to obstruct the preaching of Paul, the apostle also was intolerant: “O full of all subtilty and all mischief, thou child of the devil, thou enemy of all unrighteousness, wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord?” (Acts 13:10).
The gentle John showed no tolerance toward Diotrephes who was disturbing the church. “Wherefore, if I come,” he wrote, “I will remember his deeds which he doeth, prating against us with malicious words: and not content therewith, neither doth he himself receive the brethren, and forbiddeth them that would, and casteth them out of the church” (3 John 10).
In the area of medicine, tolerance of error can be a grave offense. No reputable pharmacist will tolerate substitution of drugs or alteration in prescribed amounts. No reputable surgeon will tolerate unethical operations. But people professing to be Christians put up with unbelievable tolerance in the areas of life that are the most important.
Does not the reason for this lie in the shift from authority of divine revelation as found in the Scripture to authority in man’s ever-changing opinions?
If Christian truth is not absolute, if it is only relative and therefore subject to human interpretation (and misinterpretation), then there should be no limits to tolerance; one man’s opinion would have to be as valid as the next.
But because Christianity is based upon truths which are unalterable, and because the eternal destiny of man is at stake in this matter, there must be intolerance over the injection of either opinions or speculations which are at variance with revealed truth.
But having said all of this, I hasten to acknowledge that some of the most tragic pages of history have to do with the intolerance of those who have never understood the meaning of Christianity and have gone out to force their own beliefs and interpretations either on individuals or the world at large.
There is but one way to keep a proper balance between tolerance and intolerance. Where the person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ are concerned—that which we are told of him in Scripture—we should be completely intolerant of any deviation. With Peter we are forced to say: “Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.” It is because eternal life is involved that we must accept Christ as he is presented in the Scriptures.
Yet, at the same time, where issues have to do with lesser matters, ought not a Christian to be the most tolerant person in all the world?
EDITORIALS
The practice in certain quarters of employing the phrase “fraternal worker,” as a substitute for the time-honored term “missionary,” marks a trend that should awaken the concern of every friend of missions. More is at stake than a mere matter of terminology. The whole philosophy of Christian missions is involved, including the Church’s conception of her primary function, the basic nature of the missionary task, and the place or role of the missionary in it.
Until recently, the full import of the “fraternal worker” idea, as expressing a basic change in missionary outlook and policy, has not been generally understood. Many have accepted the term as simply a convenient synonym, to be used interchangeably with the word “missionary,” long-established by biblical and historical usage. “Fraternal worker” appeared rather unobtrusively at first; but the serious implications of the term have become more clearly reflected every day in certain reactionary trends in missionary emphasis. Missions is being interpreted more as inter-church aid; ecumenism rather than evangelization; fellowship within the Christian community rather than outreach; consolidation rather than pioneering; subsidizing existing churches rather than founding new ones; a church-centered rather than a proclamation-centered program; the Koinonia rather than the Kerygma; hence “fraternal workers” rather than “missionaries.”
Doubtless one of the occasions for this “fraternal worker” philosophy is to be found in the emerging of national churches in many mission fields. This is a new dimension in missions. The missionary no longer stands alone. In many countries he finds himself alongside indigenous Christian organizations with their own ecclesiastical life and their own programs of service. A common problem now confronting the boards is: “What should be the continuing relationship of the missions to the autonomous national church bodies which have been developed as the result of missionary endeavor?”
The response to this question varies, even among those who accept the “fraternal worker” concept, but it tends to express itself in a fairly well-defined pattern. In any given field, the formal organization known as “the mission” is to be dissolved; the missionaries are to be turned over to the indigenous church body to be incorporated into its ecclesiastical structure and to be deployed by it as seems best; new missionaries are to be sent only on invitation of the indigenous churches; the assignments of work for each missionary are to be made by the national church; all funds for evangelistic, educational, medical and other work are to be placed in the hands of the national church, the entire program to be administered and directed by the church through its appropriate boards or committees; the personal support and expenses of the missionaries are to continue to come from abroad; and the boards in the sending countries are to become mainly subsidizing agencies to provide the necessary assistance in personnel and funds.
No one will question the principle that missions and missionaries should maintain the closest fraternal relationship with the churches which, in the providence of God, have come into being as the result of their endeavor. The ties are deep and precious. That increasing recognition must be given to the place and dignity of the national churches in the countries where they are established goes without saying. Every mission should seek the understanding and cooperation of the indigenous body in all of its efforts and in every major decision concerning program and policy. Nevertheless, while acknowledging that partnership must characterize the attitude of the missionary, it is not in itself the goal of missionary endeavor. Nothing should be allowed to obscure the missionary’s essential role as a pioneer. His primary concern is for the unevangelized. Assistance to the national church is an important but secondary function. His first concern must be for those “other sheep” whose spiritual lostness and need called him in the first place from his home and his native land. There are few countries in which Protestant missionaries are at work today where as many as 5 per cent of the people have been won to the Christian faith. Any philosophy of missions which diverts attention from this unfinished task and interprets our continuing role principally in terms of inter-church aid must be classified as a major retreat in missionary strategy. Established work should be turned over as rapidly as possible to the indigenous church while the missions move on to the “regions beyond.” This is the clear meaning of the parable of the one hundred sheep. Our mandate to preach the Gospel to the unbelieving people of the world comes from Christ, not from any national church body. We were “sent” before we were “invited,” and it is inconceivable that the coming into being of a relatively small body of believers in any country should put an end to the initiative of men and women who have been called of God to preach the Gospel to every creature.
It remains to be seen what will be the impact of this “fraternal worker” policy on the missionary himself. To most missionaries the call to service abroad comes primarily in terms of the need of the unevangelized millions. They enter upon their work with a burning passion for the unredeemed. To find upon arrival on the field that they have lost the initiative in pursuing their missionary purpose and must accept an assignment within the ecclesiastical structure of some existing church group comes to them as a bitter and disappointing experience. Not that they are unwilling to occupy a place of humility or subordination, but that they are thwarted in the fulfillment of the visions and aims that led them in the first place to offer themselves for service. Indigenous churches have not always been prepared for the responsibility of deploying fraternal workers in their program, and long periods of frustration have been experienced by some who have waited patiently for an assignment. Others have been given work for which they were not fitted. Some have found themselves serving as assistants to national pastors in local parishes, occupied with the running of errands and with the details of a local program, while all around are the unreached towns and villages to which by every missionary impulse they feel called to minister. It is not surprising that disappointment and heartache have been the lot of many, and that some, in disillusionment, have left the field and returned to their homes. It is a fact that in most instances the “fraternal worker” policy has met with resistance from the missionaries on the field, and in some cases has been imposed by higher authority in the face of the contrary judgment and against the strong objections of the missionary body.
We believe, further, that the policy in question is detrimental to the best interest of the national churches themselves. While it has the appearance of fostering the autonomy of the national church, it is actually a step backward. It introduces missionary personnel and money a second time into the structure of the indigenous organization. It tends to develop an habitual dependence upon outside aid, an expectation of indefinite continued help from abroad. Its effect, we believe, is radically to retard the development of the Church in self-support, self-government, and possibly in self-propagation. Indeed, these specific aims, long recognized in missionary circles as axioms of sound policy, have been formally deleted from their official statements of objectives by one or more missionary boards which have adopted the “fraternal worker” idea. National church bodies which have been operating for years on their own resources, are being placed again on a subsidized basis and, in some cases, are coming to feel that such aid is their right, with consequent weakening of stewardship, sacrifice and responsibility.
The real autonomy of the churches cannot be achieved as long as they are dependent upon outside personnel and money for the maintenance of organizational life. Autonomy is not a gift to be bestowed, like the conferring of a diploma; it is a status into which a church must grow through the development of its own assets, spiritual and material. A church is either autonomous or it is not. Autonomy cannot be given if it does not have it; nor can it be taken away if it does.
At this point the “fraternal worker” philosophy presents two distinct dangers. One is the danger of dominating the church through influential personnel and the material power that money represents. Even where missionaries represent a small minority in the councils of the Church, their training and experience, together with the fact that they have often been the teachers of those beside whom they sit, and represent, in addition, the sources of financial help, would give them an undue influence in directing church policies. Strong as the temptation may be to accept whatever aid is proffered, national churches would do well to ponder the effects upon their own independence and dignity. In one case of record the church, by official action, requested the withdrawal of all missionaries from its councils. The other danger is that of “spoiling” or pampering the church, fostering within it a suppliant attitude, a disposition to lean upon help from abroad instead of growing through struggle into self-reliance and maturity. Untold damage can be done to the character of the Church. The help given may come to be accepted as a matter of course. Even the capacity to be grateful can be lost, with a show of petulance when askings are not met in full.
The national churches can hardly be expected to develop any sense of their own missionary responsibility under such a system. They tend to be confirmed as “receiving churches,” whereas all churches should be “sending churches.” This is important. For missions is not primarily a matter of church to church relations, but, rather, of the relation of the Church to the unbelieving world. Hence, “missionary” rather than “fraternal worker” is the aptly descriptive word.
One further question. In this day of intense nationalism, how can the national churches escape the stigma of religious “colonialism” as long as fraternal workers from abroad sit prominently in their councils, and budgets are replenished from year to year with liberal infusions of aid from abroad. What would happen to such churches, geared to a policy of subsidization, if political changes required the sudden and complete withdrawal of all outside help?
Lastly, what will be the effect of the “fraternal worker” policy on the interest and support of Christian people? Inter-church aid is no substitute for missions. Important as it may be, it hardly serves as a satisfactory answer to the great missionary urge of the church impelling it to pioneering and extension. It hardly fulfills, for example, the aim set forth in a typical statement of purpose adopted by one church as follows: “The great end of missionary life and service is the preaching of Christ and Him crucified to the non-evangelized peoples.” It is questionable whether the Church at large will reveal the same interest in and support of a work which involves chiefly the assistance of other churches rather than the challenging task of planting the Gospel in new fields. We can say “fraternal worker” instead of “missionary,” and “ecumenical mission” instead of “missions” if we like, but let us remember that we are talking about different things. What “ecumenical mission” will accomplish is not yet clear, but let us not forget that it was “missions,” the business of being sent to the unevangelized, that fired the souls of the Apostles and turned the world upside down.
Recently CHRISTIANITY TODAY reported that three out of every four Protestant ministers claim to be conservative rather than neo-orthodox or liberal in their theology. A survey of Protestant clergymen by Opinion Research Corporation also discloses their significant attitudes on economic and social matters.
Among Protestant ministers the great majority believes American businessmen have “a humane regard for their employees” (71 per cent voted “yes”); those asserting that “most businessmen look upon labor as a commodity rather than as human beings” (15 per cent affirmative) are much in the minority (14 per cent had no opinion). The majority likewise affirms that the American business system “achieves a high degree of economic justice in the distribution of wealth” (60 per cent affirmative). A lesser group (15 per cent), however, finds “little economic justice” in our system of distributing wealth (other ministers had no opinion). Approximately one clergyman in five, the survey indicates, is decidedly socialistic in his economic philosophy.
An equally important finding is that only 55 per cent of the ministry—slightly more than one in two—sees a definite connection between economic and religious freedom. Some 13 per cent hesitate to venture an opinion on the subject, and 10 per cent answered a query about the interdependence of economic and religious liberties in a qualified or ambiguous way.
Professional interviewers questioned:
“In the main do you agree or disagree with the statement that economic and religious freedoms are linked … that if the government owns and operates all industry, religious freedom will disappear?”
Approximately 22 per cent of the clergy expressed the highly debatable position that total government suppression of economic liberty implies no essential threat to religious liberty. This obviously discloses a serious lack; no unified comprehension exists of the connection between all forms of liberty and the principle of limited government. More than one in five ministers sees no threat to religious freedom latent in the tolerance of state absolutism in economics.
Denominationally, Baptist ministers sensed the integral interrelationship of human liberties better than their fellow-clergymen; 67 per cent—conspicuously above the 55 per cent average—agreed that full government control in economics would endanger the security of religious freedom. Only 12 per cent of the Baptists answered negatively. No other denomination scored as well.
Episcopalian rectors especially spoofed the idea of an intrinsic connection between economic and religious liberty; 41 per cent of them saw no threat to religious freedom in complete governmental ownership and operation of industry. Next high were Presbyterian ministers with 31 per cent, almost one in three. Then came the Lutherans with 28 per cent.
That socio-political views of ministers tend to lean considerably to the “right” of official pronouncements made by denominational social action committees was dramatized by the response. More than one in two Methodist ministers—52 per cent in fact—linked economic and religious freedoms, and agreed that religious liberty would vanish if economic freedom disappeared. Only 20 per cent of the Methodist clergy disagreed; another 20 per cent had no opinion, while 8 per cent gave a qualified comment.
Another of the survey’s interesting features is that, taken as a whole, ministers serving the larger congregations best sensed the dependence of religious liberty upon the restriction of state controls. In churches with more than 750 members, 59 per cent of the ministers affirmed an unquestionable link between economic and religious freedoms; 53 per cent of the clergy with congregations numbering less than 250, and 57 per cent of those with congregations of 250 to 750, agreed. The largest dissent was in the bracket of 250 to 750 church membership where 23 per cent of the ministers affirmed no intrinsic connection.
Geographically considered, the inner unity of human freedoms was most consistently affirmed by clergymen in the South, least consistently by those in the East (East, 45 per cent; Midwest, 55 per cent; South, 57 per cent; Far West, 56 per cent). The older clergy comprehended the link between freedoms more regularly than their younger colleagues: under 40 years of age: 48 per cent; 40–49 years, 55 per cent; 50 years or more, 58 per cent. The fact of seminary training showed itself not so much in a significant difference of commitment (those attending, 54 per cent affirmative; not attending, 55 per cent affirmative), as in an absence of conviction by non-seminarians (“no opinion,” 20 per cent, as against 11 per cent by seminary graduates) which more than compensated for the larger disagreement of seminary graduates (24 per cent, as against 18 per cent by non-seminarians) with the thesis that absolute economic controls are a prelude to religious restrictions.
The connection between theological and economic principles was most consistently supported by ministers avowedly fundamentalist in their views; those assertedly neo-orthodox rated lowest. Among fundamentalist ministers, 65 per cent agreed while 17 per cent disagreed over the relationship between economic and religious freedoms; 12 per cent had no opinion, 7 per cent gave qualified comments. Of those who preferred to be designated “conservative,” 50 per cent acknowledged the link while 25 per cent did not; 13 per cent had no opinion and 12 per cent gave qualified answers. In the “liberal” bracket, 49 per cent granted a connection while 27 per cent did not; 20 per cent were unsure (the major zone of “no opinion”) and 4 per cent qualified their replies. Among “neo-orthodox” ministers 46 per cent saw a connection while 29 per cent did not; 11 per cent had no opinion and 14 per cent made qualified comments.
Despite the predominant recognition that economic and religious liberties cannot really be isolated, Protestant ministers are much more complacent (if not confused) in the realm of practical affairs than in the realm of theory. Of the ministers surveyed, 61 per cent for example thought the Federal government should provide low rent housing for low income people. Since a program of this kind would compete directly with private enterprise, and perpetuate the government in American business, such approval was strikingly high. Those who opposed government housing numbered 21 per cent, while 18 per cent registered no opinion.
Exposition of economic as well as religious liberty is essential to a complete theory of human liberty. Modern political philosophers are detecting once again that the ideals of limited government and free market economics as a heritage of Western civilization presuppose the spiritual and ethical framework of Judaeo-Christian religion. It is not enough to observe (true as this is) that political liberty and economic freedom are as important to man’s search for spiritual growth and material sufficiency as is religious liberty. Rather than to sanction freedom primarily by the pragmatic results of political and economic liberty, some modern thinkers show a growing readiness to premise the case for freedom in its entirety on religious assumptions.
The Judaeo-Christian tradition insists on the connection between religion and economics by relating revealed religion in a determinative way to economic principles. It defines the link between economic liberty and economic duty in terms of the revealed will of God.
World history is impressing contemporary appraisers with the weaknesses of collectivistic economic theory and with the virtues of free enterprise. Today the emphasis on economic liberty is sustained on many sides. Capitalism is defended not only by Christian Freedom Foundation in the Judaeo-Christian setting of revealed religion, but by Spiritual Mobilization in somewhat less explicit idealistic and theistic terms, and by Foundation for Economic Education whose affirmations have not consistently transcended humanism.
An orthodox theory of economics independent of a covering theological framework cannot withstand deterioration, not even subversion by hostile views. The human mind calls insistently for the integration of all life’s claims. An inner logic has bound the tradition of biblical theology and of free enterprise. As does the whole of life, free enterprise belongs under the living God; whoever loses the Lord of history soon becomes enslaved by false gods and ideologies. The theological left, with its repudiation of the sovereignty of God, became vulnerable to a collectivistic emphasis on human controls as over against individual rights. Today a new awareness of the peril of collectivism exists in some liberal Protestant circles. Even among college students one may detect a growing feeling that socialism is reactionary, that much of the current campus enthusiasm is mostly a case of uncritical conformity. Some leaders nevertheless, while affirming free enterprise retain hostility to biblical theology. It must be emphasized that valid Christian political and economic theory arises from within Christian theology; it is neither an optional appendage nor merely a compatible corollary, but an integral expression of the whole. That is why, in the social order as well as in personal life, biblical theology and ethics are not content to speak only of values and ideals; what they affirm is the will of God.
Especially in times of crisis it becomes clear that an autonomous social ethics is powerless to inspire the masses either to live or to die. Only a given morality, a morality of revelation, can in such times cope with the young, militant and fanatical ideologies that demand total commitment. It is only a morality of revelation that suffices to judge the whole of human thought and life, to call it to repentance and to the highest dedication. Given the reality of revealed religion, it is hazardous to extract from a larger circle of ideas that cohere philosophically and logically simply that segment of thought which seems palatable and functional for a given point in history.
