Fifteen thousand strong they came to Detroit—most of them from the Midwest, hundreds wearing “I’m a Believer” pins, all enthusiastic about attending the North American Christian Convention’s thirtieth conclave on the shores of the Detroit River.
And when the mid-July meeting ended three days later, conventioners boasted proudly that they had sparked no controversies and made no social pronouncements.
Nor could they have done so had they wanted to. For the NACC conventioners represent the more conservative, evangelical congregations which have been associated with the congregations which recently formed the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). And above all else they value a kind of local autonomy that prevents ties with a formal, structured denomination.
They call themselves, in fact, an “undenominational fellowship.” And they meet simply for inspiration, to renew acquaintances and to worship Christ.
Even with their fierce defense of autonomy, it was clear in Detroit that these American heartlanders felt keenly an essential unity of belief. Their unity showed up in unusually lusty gospel singing, expressed itself in a volume of social smalltalk—often competing with the services themselves for conventioners’ attention, and pushed a few select themes again and again to the front of the Cobo Arena messages.
First among such themes came impressive declarations of faith in Christ. “Jesus Christ Leads to Life,” proclaimed the central banner, stretched out beneath shifting gold, blue, and green lights. And each of the seven major speakers chose a theme that referred directly to the person of the Saviour.
Said convention president Douglas A. Dickey, setting the keynote: “Jesus Christ is alive. He is the faithful witness forever. Can we do less than fling outselves into this world as his faithful witnesses?” One after another of the succeeding speakers replied emotionally: “No.”
Tied closely in the convention rhetoric was a second theme: opposition to theological liberalism. Reacting to divisions that have cut across Protestantism’s “Restoration” branch, numerous preachers delighted audiences with jibes at liberals.
The Rev. C. C. Crawford of Dallas Christian College set this tone in his daily devotional messages. “We’re being brainwashed by half-baked seminarians who say Jesus is not divine,” he declared. “Theologians have divided the church; why do we look to them to unite us?… Atheists and skeptics may poke fun at the idea of redemption; but in so doing they show their ignorance, their sheer stupidity.”
Then, speakers emphasized their patriotism. Despite some pacifist mumblings among more youthful conventioners, no achievement was more often or more conspicuously cited in the backgrounds of speakers than military service. And the NACC executive committee assured similar sentiments when they elected the personable William S. Boice, a World War II Army chaplain, as next year’s president.
“You might call me an ultranationalist,” he said in an interview. “I believe America was divinely called into being; I believe the American heritage and the dream of freedom are inseparable. So now I can’t believe that God won’t again hear the prayers and anguish of his people and restore our greatness if we’ll listen to him.”
In the midst of all the preaching, a corps of NACC youths voiced distress that the convention had failed to involve itself much with social problems. They cited the fact that the convention’s only overall expression of concern about society’s problems came at a morning “interest group” session.
At that one session, however, the Rev. Hubert G. Locke, director of religious affairs at Wayne State University, made up considerable time when he soundly scolded the undenomination for “continuing to make tests of fellowship over a dozen secondary issues while neglecting the weightier [social] matters of the law.” He warned that if Christian churches did not begin dealing with black-white, as well as urban, problems, America was not even sure to “survive as a nation.”
A panel, made up mostly of whites from the South, thanked Locke for his message and called for repentance, even while voicing doubt about prospects for change. “Sure,” chided one of them, “we’re all good middle class whites. We can talk race and poverty for a few minutes; then we’ll go eat lunch and get it all out of our systems.” Speeches and discussions throughout the remaining sessions indicated that he had accurately judged the convention’s mood.
A major innovation in Detroit was the invitation of Roman Catholic editor James M. Shea to analyze changes taking place in his church. He praised a new openness in Catholicism and the growth of brotherliness between Protestants and Catholics.
Pressed on several “touchy issues,” though, he expressed doubt that Catholicism would ever desert the doctrine of papal infallibility, then added: “If we believe that the Roman Catholic church is The Church, then it is into the Catholic church that we hope all churches will come. Here I stand; I can say no other.”
JAMES HUFFMAN
