For the evangelical, evangelism has priority. Realizing the need for a greater emphasis on Christian ethics in today’s world, evangelicals still rightly insist that before a man can follow the ethics of Christ, he must accept Christ as his gracious Lord. It would seem, then, that proper evangelistic methods would be one of the evangelicals’ greatest concerns. But is this so?
Granting the genuineness of our concern and the correctness of our theology (or most of it), what about the methodology of our evangelism? Can we assume that we have adopted evangelistic methods that are adequate for our age? We believe that our doctrine of evangelism is based on a correct interpretation of the Bible; but can we safely assert that this doctrine never changes? The doctrine of salvation is, of course, as unchanging as the nature of God. But can this be said of the manner in which the Gospel must be presented to man?
We preach the same Gospel as Paul did, but we use modern means, such as radio and television, to spread that Gospel. In place of the simple musical instruments of the first century, we use the electronic organ. Instead of meeting in homes, we spend millions on large church plants. The question is—are all our practices as modern as these? Or are we clinging to some evangelistic methods that were successful in rural areas in the earlier history of our country but are now beginning to lose their effectiveness? Will the methods used to reach men on the frontiers a century ago reach the sophisticated middle class in suburbia today? If so, let us be about our Father’s business in the way we have been doing it. But if not, failure to correct our methods can add to the failure of men to respond to the Gospel.
A good business continually re-evaluates its methods and policies. Evangelism, the most important enterprise in the world, should do no less. Are our methods succeeding? Are we reaching men? (If this be pragmatism, so be it!) I do not claim that this article offers all the answers to questions about evangelism. Nor do I suggest that it is a valid critique of all evangelistic methods in use today. I do propose, however, to ask some important questions whose answers must be known if we are to reach our generation with the Gospel.
First, what is the realistic assessment of the unregenerate man’s concern for the Gospel? One often hears at evangelistic conferences, “The lost are just waiting to hear the Gospel. Millions of the unsaved are voicing the ‘Macedonian Call’ to ‘come over and help us.’ ” Are they really? Or are they profoundly indifferent, if not actually antagonistic, to any concern on our part for their spiritual welfare? Christian witnessing would surely be much easier if these millions of men were concerned about their spiritual welfare and were praying that someone would show them the way to peace and rest.
This leads to a second question: Do we really believe that laymen should witness to others? If we do, then let me ask: How much training do we give our church members for this task? Or do we perhaps consider most of our members already qualified? Does not many a layman attempting to bring a man to Christ end up by asking his pastor to go to him?
The third question follows logically: Is soul-winning so simple that all a man has to do is learn a few biblical proof-texts and then present them to every prospective convert? Though the “way of salvation” is identical for all, can we afford to give laymen the impression that all men can be brought in the same way to this way of salvation? The man with his doctoral degree has fully as much need of regeneration as the man on skid row. But can anyone say that these men would be reached by similar methods, or even by the same kind of people? Can we properly write books on such subjects as “Soul-Winning Made Easy”? Can genuine results be guaranteed? Can soul-winning really be made that easy? Ask men who have tried it! If we are really serious when we say that every Christian ought to be a soul-winner, are we not faced with the need of completely revising our church training program?
A fourth question concerns our methods of publicizing evangelistic services. Are we getting the unregenerate man to attend? Does he respond to the big sign on the front of the church that says in bright red letters, “Revival Services Nightly—We Preach the Old-fashioned Gospel”? How many non-Christians want to attend such a revival? How many modern suburbanites are interested in an “old-fashioned Gospel”? Granted, the Gospel does not change; but can we not find better terminology? Perhaps television advertising methods would not be suitable for advertising evangelistic efforts, but they do reach the people for whom they are intended. And they get results—which is more than can usually be said for the way churches publicize a revival. Perhaps evangelical forces and the advertising industry need each other.
With the mention of terminology, we have reached question five. Would more people, both regenerate and unregenerate, attend our “revivals” if we changed the name of these services? Should we call “Revival Services” by such names as “Spiritual Life Crusade,” or “Preaching Mission,” or “Bible-Study Week”? “Revival” is indeed an honorable word with an impressive history, and it speaks of new life. But perhaps the word also reminds the twentieth-century man of the world of high-powered, strongly emotional methods of getting men to kneel before a mourner’s bench or join a church.
The sixth question may invite charges of heresy. Yet it must be asked, not to suggest a negative answer but to provoke honest consideration of the question. Do we need revival services? We say we believe in perennial evangelism. If so, is the annual parade of two-week revivals, and week-end revivals, and youth revivals really necessary? Or does it make up for our failure in perennial evangelism?
Speaking of two-week revivals, have we the right to insist that our church members attend a service on each of fourteen consecutive nights? We certainly give a lot of recognition to those who do attend every service. And what about some of the “gimmicks” we use to ensure a large crowd at each week-night service? Some churches by this time may be offering trading stamps for attendance. This at best is a sticky business.
The final question invades the field of theology. Do we have the right to guarantee to all who will listen that the converted man will have a new life, a new purpose, a new set of standards, a new philosophy of life? My Bible says yes. My observation seems to say no. Maybe we should make sure our converts are really converted before we take them into our membership, before we hold them up to the unconverted as examples of what Christ does for a man. Maybe it is time we stressed emphatically that the Christian life is more than an intellectual acceptance of Christ as Saviour. Christianity is more than a creed, a set of doctrines. We need to remind men everywhere that it is a way of life. It involves more than publicly professing faith, being baptized, and accepting a box of church envelopes. It is also a life of self-discipline, of complete commitment to the will of God.
Since I am an ardent admirer of Billy Graham and have noted with great pleasure his successful crusades, it may seem odd that I should ask all these questions about evangelism. I do ask them—not of Dr. Graham, but of us who minister in the local churches and of laymen who support church evangelism.
Who will give us honest, correct answers to these questions? Such answers ought to go far toward helping evangelicals to evangelize contemporary America.
A Scot Looks At The American Kirk
The American ecclesiastical scene never fails to intrigue us on our periodic visits. We have just returned from a two-month sojourn there, during which time we worshiped in a Presbyterian church in Maryland. It has a full-time secretarial staff, a superb collection of buildings, and a formidable array of organizations.
So many things have to be crammed in on Sunday that everything is planned with military precision. The first of two morning services, held at 9 A.M., must be finished by ten sharp, or the timetable is disrupted. Lest the worship of God be prolonged, we sing no more than two verses of each hymn—always the two opening verses.
Sunday after Sunday we depressingly never get as far as death’s dark vale, are left shivering on the wrong side of Jordan’s brink, and are consigned to an evident eternity of watching, praying, and fasting, with no assurance that the end of sorrow shall be near the Throne.
There is one exception to this two-verse rule: every Sunday at a given moment we rise and sing the first verse only of Ein’ Feste Burg. Somehow it always struck us as peculiarly unfortunate to close with what may seem a solid boost to the devil: “On earth is not his equal. Amen.” (For some reason we were always scrupulous about the Amens.)
One Sunday we rebelled, and despite looks of blank incomprehension from our kind American hosts who thought our behaviour extraordinary, we walked three miles to another Presbyterian church, recommended to us as “evangelical.” We sang “Heavenly Sunshine,” and were exhorted to shake hands with the person sitting next to us, which we amiably did. Later the same treatment was accorded “the person sitting behind you.” Happily it stopped at that; there’s no saying where all this chumminess in church might lead—J. D. DOUGLAS, in the Church of England Newspaper
Carlton L. Myers is pastor of the Van Buren Street Baptist Church, Annapolis, Maryland. A graduate of Philadelphia College of Bible, he has been chairman of the Music Committee of the Maryland Baptist Convention.
