The thousands of people who attended and underwrote the congress in Minneapolis have gone home. The booths have been dismantled, the displays pulled down, the typewriters sent back. The tired staff members whose labors made possible a beautifully organized and executed program despite immense logistical problems now find they can spend some nights at home. One question remains to be answered: What was the impact and the effect of the U. S. Congress on Evangelism?
The congress brought together Christians from almost a hundred denominations, some of whom (e.g., the Southern Baptists and the Missouri Synod Lutherans) have generally avoided involvement in ecumenical activities and have been inclined to go it alone. Barriers were broken down at Minneapolis. Christians from divergent traditions got to know one another personally, and a spirit of unity prevailed. No one was asked to sacrifice his convictions or change his opinions. The presence and power of the Holy Spirit were manifest.
Most religious gatherings must elect officers, pass resolutions, and adopt legislation. There was none of this at Minneapolis. Consequently there was no politicking, no behind-the-scenes maneuvering, no acrid debates. No votes were called for and no resolutions were adopted. The thrust of the congress centered on the evangelistic task of the Church of Jesus Christ in its many different forms.
Program participants were free to speak as they pleased, and some things were said about which there rightly was vigorous disagreement. Evangelicals often are stereotyped as thoughtless supporters of the status quo, whatever that may mean. At Minneapolis it was eye-opening for some to discover the spirit of openness and honesty among the delegates. There was a liberty that avoided “party-line” unanimity, and there was no hint of coercion.
Black Christians, but not enough of them, attended the congress and had prominent places in the assembly. The blacks spoke frankly from their hearts and made concrete suggestions about how white Christians can help them in their struggle for equality. But the spirit of brotherhood was evident, and no threats were tossed about. The congress set a pattern for this kind of constructive dialogue.
The congress was willing to look deeply into the implications of the Gospel for the social milieu. Perhaps no evangelical conclave in this century has responded more positively to the call for Christians to help right wrongs in the social order. Those who listened carefully realized that the call to social involvement was put on a personal basis. Thus there was avoided what so many evangelicals believe to be a major error of the ecumenical movement, that of making the institutional church the agent of social revolution as though that were the mission of the Church. Believers, as members of Caesar’s kingdom as well as of God’s, were called upon to exercise their dual citizenship in such a way that their Christian faith would be brought to bear upon society for constructive change.
Minneapolis was in many ways a learning experience. Two hippies were physically removed from the auditorium when they refused to be seated in chairs (city regulations forbid sitting on the floor). This action of zealous ushers brought a considerable negative response from delegates, who applauded when the hippies were brought back to the meeting. Afterwards Billy Graham talked with them, and the next day he apologized to the delegates for the ill-advised action that precipitated a minor crisis. But the incident brought home forcefully the fact that the hippies need the Gospel brought to them where they are, not where evangelicals would like them to be. Much was learned, too, in the discussion of issues about which delegates disagreed. Many learned to love and respect the personhood of those with whom they could not agree.
A sizable group of young people under thirty attended the conclave, and they contributed to the congress by offering critiques of position papers and through personal testimony. Friday evening more than fifteen thousand young people listened to the music of the Now generation and were exposed to the straight gospel message in their own idiom.
What was perhaps the most solid contribution of the Congress received the least public notice. The 1966 World Congress in Berlin laid a strong theological foundation for evangelism. Minneapolis went on from there to teach men how to evangelize. Each afternoon in “How to” sessions delegates were shown different methods used to reach people with the Gospel. For example, representatives of Campus Crusade and Inter-Varsity demonstrated how to reach the college crowd, and James Kennedy of the Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, told how a local congregation does the work of evangelism. Some delegates began right away to practice what they had learned. One man was seen sitting on a curbstone witnessing to a stranger about the saving power of Jesus Christ.
Although the congress ended officially at noon Saturday, Billy Graham spoke at a mass meeting that evening at the Sports Arena. Thousands of people were turned away for lack of space. On the platform were members of the U. S. Congress national committee, and Dr. Oswald C. J. Hoffmann of the “Lutheran Hour” reported on the congress itself. After Dr. Graham preached, many hundreds of people responded to the invitation to receive Christ. This service seemed to symbolize what the congress was all about—preaching the Gospel of salvation to sinful men where they are.
The long-range effects of Minneapolis must await the verdict of history, and that verdict depends on what happens around America in the months ahead. If the participants who were fired with enthusiasm carry the flames of their passion to set new fires for evangelism in their home churches, then the congress will have succeeded. The first test may come out of Billy Graham’s Anaheim, California, crusade, which could, by the grace of God, open an era of church renewal and revival power that could loose the dynamic of the Holy Spirit in a way we have not seen for generations.
