ALSO REVIEWED IN THIS SECTION:
A THEOLOGY OF WORD AND SPIRIT
By Donald G. Bloesch
HOLY SCRIPTURE
By Donald G. Bloesch
WHEN GOD DOESN’T MAKE SENSE
By James Dobson
TWO KINGDOMS
By Robert Clouse, Richard Pierard, and Edwin Yamauchi
OUT OF MY MIND: THE BEST OF JOE BAYLY
Edited by Timothy Bayly
BITTER ROOTS
By John L. Moore
Gay, Proud, And Sadly Mistaken
STRANGER AT THE GATE,by Mel White (Simon and Schuster, 287 pp.; $23, hardcover). Reviewed by Bob Davies, executive director of Exodus International and coauthor of Coming Out of Homosexuality (InterVarsity).
Can best-selling Christian books and I award-winning evangelistic films be written and produced by a married man who, between writing projects, is committing adultery with other men? Not only could it happen—it did happen, as revealed in Mel White’s disturbing autobiography. His confessions will probably embarrass well-known evangelical leaders who used his services as a ghostwriter: Jerry Falwell (Strength for the Journey, If I Should Die Before I Wake!), Billy Graham (Approaching Hoofbeats), Pat Robertson (America’s Dates with Destiny), and W. A. Criswell (Standing on the Promises). Besides his books, White produced such films as How Should We Then Live? with the late Francis Schaeffer, and D. James Kennedy’s Like a Mighty Army.
In Stranger at the Gate, White presents himself as an evangelical case study. His goal is to show that the traditional Christian teaching on homosexuality is wrong since it did not work in his life and causes suffering in the lives of many others. White’s writing skills serve him well as he eloquently tells his story, describing the excruciating conflict between his inner homosexual desires and his outward evangelical successes.
Although aware of same-sex desires from an early age, White considered them sinful and sought to escape them by marrying Lyla Loehr in 1962. Over the next 25 years, even though he loved his wife and delighted in their two children, White felt tormented by continued longings for sexual intimacy with other men. He sought freedom through Christian psychotherapy, exorcism, prayers for healing, and every other avenue of help he could think of. Nothing seemed to work—and finally he took the plunge into homosexual relationships.
White admits that his first gay encounter was less than he had hoped for: “I had dreamed of this night for decades, but when it actually happened, I felt awkward, embarrassed, and guilty.” He held his handsome young partner in his arms, “thanking God for this good fortune [while] I was begging God to forgive me.” White decided that night that his “natural, God-given sensual needs could not be ignored, postponed, and denied forever.” He remained married but frequently met his male partner for sexual liaisons during the next year.
Incredibly, he was still heavily involved in writing projects for top evangelical leaders. One day, after meeting with Billy Graham in Acapulco to discuss a book, he flew to Chicago to see his lover, then took a night flight back in time to have breakfast with Graham the next morning. In White’s own words, “It could have been a bad scene in a B-grade soap opera.”
But his double life was ripping him apart. During the coming weeks, his depression reached new lows, and he thought constantly about death. Valium became his “only real source of comfort,” even while he continued to lecture at Christian colleges and seminaries across the country. Finally, both he and his wife underwent Christian counseling, then decided to separate. Their divorce was finalized in 1986.
In late 1991, White’s writing career in conservative Christian circles ended when he began confessing his homosexuality and confronting “homophobic” attitudes. Last June, his appointment as dean of the largest gay and lesbian congregation in the world, Cathedral of Hope in Dallas, attracted widespread media attention and propelled him “out of the closet” before a national audience. Only then did many evangelicals learn of his homosexuality.
A KINDER, GENTLER SODOM
White’s autobiography makes fascinating—and painful—reading. He is strongest when describing his ongoing inner loneliness and turmoil since childhood. His narrative, however, quickly weakens when he strays from his own story to tackle theological issues, such as the traditional biblical teachings on homosexuality. “It is obvious,” he argues at one point, “that the original Sodomites weren’t homosexuals at all.” Then he mentions Old Testament passages such as Isaiah 1:10 and Jeremiah 23:14 that list the nonsexual sins of Sodom, but he virtually ignores the New Testament passages that link Sodom with sexual immorality (2 Pet. 2:7; Jude 7).
Perhaps the most dangerous oversight in White’s “post-homophobic” theology is the absence of the notion of human sinfulness. After he and his lover attend a gay church in Los Angeles for some time, White asks the pastor why his sermons always focus on God’s love, but never God’s judgment of sin. “The people who come to this church have heard enough about sin and judgment,” the pastor answers. “It’s time they heard about love for a change.”
This imbalance seems to lead White into a philosophy of sanctified hedonism. Despite the fact that White still considers himself a Christian pastor, there is a conspicuous absence, in what he teaches, of such biblical principles as self-denial, sexual constraint, “taking up one’s cross daily,” or “loving another more than oneself.” In other words, White fails to “Christianize” his homosexual experience. For instance, White expresses “great regret” at his choice to abstain from homosexual encounters earlier in life; but even if his partners were female and not male, these actions would still be labeled fornication (and later adultery) by traditional Christian ethics. Eventually, White comes to embrace fully his homosexuality as “the natural, God-given passion at the very heart of my existence.”
White’s unshackled abandon to his sexual impulses is the foundation of his life message, and it is a misleading, even deadly, example for other Christians struggling with sexual-identity issues. Thousands of men who have embraced White’s philosophy are now dying of AIDS. Others still in conflict about their homosexual urges will be persuaded that living out their sexual fantasies will bring peace and fulfillment.
In putting the most positive spin possible on his story, White has to minimize the devastation his choices have caused other people around him. The reader is left to speculate about the turmoil faced by his wife when, late in his marriage, White asked her for a “time-share” arrangement so he could freely pursue sex with a male lover “on the side” while maintaining a marital façade. And the fact that his parents have never been comfortable with his decision to pursue homosexuality is only briefly mentioned.
THE CHURCH’S CLOSET
Ultimately, White’s book has the same weaknesses as any biography. One person’s life experiences do not offer a universal perspective on such large issues as homosexuality. For example, White fails to acknowledge that some people involved in a lifetime of homosexual relationships have found them as unfulfilling as he found heterosexual intimacy. And White’s current long-term relationship with another man is relatively rare in the homosexual community, as demonstrated by the rampant spread of HIV among gay men.
White states repeatedly that homosexuality cannot be changed, despite the hundreds of men and women who have left that behavior and report their lives to be more peaceful and satisfying as a result. He says “ex-gay” testimonials are short-lived; but many men and women have lived free of homosexuality for decades. These same people will admit that leaving homosexuality behind is tremendously difficult, and there is a significant number of “ex-gays” who eventually return to active homosexuality. But does the difficulty of overcoming a certain pattern of sexual arousal mean one should simply succumb to it? One wonders what White’s message would be to a man struggling with sexual desires for children, or even to a heterosexual friend tormented by lust toward female coworkers.
In fact, White has little time for the concerns of those who oppose his moral philosophy. He reserves his strongest chastisement for leaders of “the religious right” who oppose homosexual practices, saying these religious leaders are causing millions “to fear and to hate gay and lesbian people” with claims that grow “more lurid and far-fetched every day.” He laments the conservative church’s “determined effort to force their version of morality on the rest of the American people,” missing the obvious point that gays are guilty of the same “offense.” Still, some of his criticisms carry weight, especially when he documents how some Christian ministries promote antihomosexual hysteria in their fundraising efforts.
In spite of its erroneous conclusions, Stranger at the Gate teaches valuable lessons. For one, it shows that same-sex inclinations do not automatically cease at conversion, nor are they easily expunged by a quick prayer or counseling session. Second, it reveals the personal agony that can result from unloving attitudes—still all-too-common in some Christian circles—toward those who battle homosexual desires. The truth is that the church can do a much better job dealing with the issue of homosexuality without going down the path Mel White encourages us to take.
Reshaping Evangelical Theology
A THEOLOGY OF WORD AND SPIRIT: AUTHORITY AND METHOD IN THEOLOGY, by Donald G. Bloesch (InterVarsity, 400 pp.; $22.99, hardcover);
HOLY SCRIPTURE: REVELATION, INSPIRATION AND INTERPRETATION, by Donald G. Bloesch (InterVarsity, 367 pp.; $25, hardcover). Reviewed by Timothy George, dean of Beeson Divinity School, Birmingham, Alabama.
The publication of the first two volumes of Donald Bloesch’s Christian Foundations series represents a signal advance in the maturation of evangelical theological scholarship. In the heady days of the evangelical resurgence after World War II, the shapers of this movement set two formidable goals: one, to foster a tradition of first-rate scholarly engagement with the various theological disciplines from the perspective of historic Christian orthodoxy, and, two, in distinction from separatistic fundamentalism, to reclaim the mainline Protestant denominations for the cause of evangelical Christianity. In a sense, Bloesch is heir to both of these dreams.
When completed, Bloesch’s seven-volume magnum opus will constitute the most substantial theological contribution of any American evangelical since Carl Henry’s magisterial God, Revelation and Authority. What’s more, this comes from one who has made his mark as a professor in a mainline Presbyterian seminary and as a theologian of the United Church of Christ, arguably one of America’s most liberal Protestant denominations.
In volume one, A Theology of Word and Spirit, Bloesch sets forth his theological prolegomena. While Bloesch’s work may be comparable to Carl Henry’s in some respects, it is clear that he takes his cues from another Karl—Barth of Basel. Indeed, along with the late Bernard Ramm, Bloesch has probably done more than any other contemporary theologian to revive an interest in Barth among evangelicals. Although Bloesch claims some of Barth’s conclusions are problematic, he does not develop this critique in any sustained way. At a number of specific points—the priority of faith over philosophy, the disparagement of natural theology, the circumscribed role of apologetics—Bloesch is clearly trudging in the tracks of his great mentor.
Near the end of volume one, Bloesch offers a new typology of the major options he discerns in contemporary theology: a theology of restoration that attacks modernity without serious engagement with it (B.B. Warfield, Henry, possibly Tom Oden); a theology of accommodation that seeks to forge a unity between secular and religious wisdom (Friedrich Schleiermacher, David Tracy, John Hick); a theology of correlation that seeks a new synthesis between Christian faith and modern claims (Paul Tillich, Hans Küng, Wolfhart Pannenberg); and, finally, a theology of confrontation that does not ignore modern issues but calls them into question on the basis of the core Christian message (John Calvin, Barth, Abraham Kuyper). One may question whether this is really an adequate description of the theological landscape. It is clear, however, that Bloesch is forging his own system as a variant of the confrontation paradigm. He wants to move beyond what some call the “heads-in-the-sand” restorationists without compromising his commitment to the faith “once for all delivered.”
A VENTURE OF DARING LOVE
The tension between these polarities is evident in volume two as Bloesch unpacks his doctrine of Holy Scripture. Here, more clearly than in volume one, the general rubric for the entire series comes into play. Bloesch wants to set forth a doctrine of biblical revelation that affirms both the divinely given objectivity of the scriptural text while also allowing for the dynamic role of the Holy Spirit in both inspiration and illumination. Thus he affirms a sensus plenior within the text of Scripture: its meaning is not exhausted by what the human writer had in mind, but it can be understood only in the light of the development of God’s complete revelation. The interpretation of Scripture is not so much an art to be learned, Bloesch contends, but rather a gift to be received in faith. Bloesch further defines faith as “a kind of naïveté that impels us to venture forth in childlike trust with a certainty that the Spirit will lead us into all truth.” In distinction from the literalism of the fundamentalists and the reductionism of the liberals, Bloesch calls his method “the postcritical, pneumatic approach of a catholic evangelicalism.”
Clearly there is much in Bloesch’s doctrine of Scripture that can be warmly embraced by all evangelicals. Over against the excesses of reader-response hermeneutics and other “myths spawned by higher criticism,” Bloesch argues for the conceptual and intelligible character of revelation, pointing out that while “we cannot objectify God, God can objectify himself and thereby make his truth available to us.” Thus, in the Bible we are presented “with real truths, with truth that is absolute and unconditional because it is God’s truth.” At the same time, Bloesch wisely reminds us that while God’s truth can be formulated in rational speech, it can never be “possessed or mastered” in propositions.
For Bloesch, inerrancy is not the preferable term to describe Scripture, although it should not be abandoned because of what it conveys concerning the divine source and veracity of the Bible. Most, if not all, of Bloesch’s legitimate concerns about what he prefers to call “difficulties” (as opposed to errors) in the biblical text have been covered in the two Chicago Statements on Biblical Inerrancy (1978) and Hermeneutics (1982). Bloesch wants to distance himself from these statements because of their supposedly rationalistic bent, though he nowhere interacts with their specific arguments.
In the end, we must ask whether Bloesch’s own very high view of biblical authority is not itself undermined by his unwitting concession to destructive critical methodologies. What does it mean, for example, to say that infallibility applies to the revelatory meaning of the Bible, “not to any particular text or report” in it? On the basis of this kind of claim, of course, critical scholars have dared to demythologize all kind of texts in the Bible, including those that report Jesus’ miraculous conception and bodily resurrection. In other settings, Bloesch has defended the integrity of the Christian message by resisting the trend to adopt inclusive God-language in the church. One wonders, however, whether those Bloesch rightly opposes on this issue could not, in fact, defend their relativizing of God-language on the basis of Bloesch’s understanding of biblical revelation.
Though a critic of evangelicals to his right, Bloesch recognizes the overriding unity he shares with them as believing Christians who affirm the faith once delivered to the saints. Like Emil Brunner, Bloesch sees more hope in fundamentalism than in liberalism, “for what is dissolved can no longer be restored, whereas what is frozen or hardened can be brought back to life by the Spirit.” Indeed, conservative evangelicals, while lamenting the inconsistencies in Bloesch’s doctrine of Scripture, should rejoice in his clear affirmation of historic Christian verities as well as the genuine piety that undergirds his work and informs his vision of theology as “a venture of daring love born out of fidelity to the Great Commission to share the gospel with all peoples.”
Betrayed By God
WHEN GOD DOESN’T MAKE SENSE, by James Dobson (Tyndale, 288 pp; $17.99, hardcover). Reviewed by Chris Hall, assistant professor of religious studies, Eastern College, Saint Davids, Pennsylvania.
In his new book, James Dobson, founder and president of Focus on the Family, attempts to help Christians journeying through life’s inexplicably dark valleys. While not giving believers detailed directions on how to deal with tragedies, which some might prefer, Dobson presents a broad road map for struggling Christians.
He believes evangelicals overlook the ambiguities of life, leaving them ill prepared for the horrific accidents, terminal illnesses, and sudden deaths that come with shocking regularity. As Dobson says, “In a matter of moments the world can fall off its axis.” When it does, he observes, Christians often experience a deep sense of betrayal as God seemingly fails to answer their deepest prayers.
In response, Dobson suggests a number of wise and helpful strategies. First, he gently calls his readers to a deeper reverence of God as God. God, Dobson reminds us, is not a divine genie or bellhop. God is accountable to no one and owes no explanation for his actions.
This may be difficult to hear, particularly for those who have experienced the harsh bite of pain or the lonely night of grief. But, as Dobson writes, when God seems to “[defy] human logic and sensibilities,” Christians must allow his infinite love revealed in Christ and witnessed in Scripture to carry them through.
Second, Dobson warns that human beings lack the intellectual capability to debate with God. Christians have two choices: to demand answers from God, which they might not receive or welcome if actually given, or to trust in God as God. Insisting on answers to inexplicable events, he asserts, will result in creeping bitterness toward God and life.
Third, Dobson beckons believers to develop realistic expectations shaped by an immersion in Scripture and an understanding of prayer’s rhyme and rhythm. At times God answers prayers in a remarkable fashion. At other times, God seemingly says “nothing at all.”
At this juncture, Dobson criticizes the theological promoters of “universal health and prosperity,” because their theology foments unrealistic expectations that lack scriptural warrant and lead to dismay and disillusionment with God. Sooner or later, God will appear “whimsical, untrustworthy, unfair, or sinister” within the perimeters of a health-and-wealth theology.
Along the way, Dobson points to the roles of sacrifice and struggle in the formation of Christian character. “We are in a spiritual war with a deadly foe.… Flabby, overindulged, pampered Christians just don’t have the stamina to fight this battle.” He also notes the periodic connection between willful sin and human suffering. “I believe many of the trials and tribulations that come our way are of our own making.”
In When Cod Doesn’t Make Sense, Dobson expands his readers’ horizon beyond the boundaries of this present life. One day resolution will be given to the questions that find no answers this side of heaven. But for the time being, believers must continue the journey faithfully, trusting God in the midst of the mysterious, storing away “our questions for a lengthy conversation on the other side.”
The Church’S Dance With Culture
TWO KINGDOMS: THE CHURCH AND CULTURE THROUGH THE AGES, by Robert Clouse, Richard Pierard, and Edwin Yamauchi (Moody, 672 pp.; $29.99, hardcover). Reviewed by Doug Bandow, senior fellow at the Cato Institute and author of Beyond Good Intentions: A Biblical View of Politics (Crossway).
Two thousand years of Christianity have produced a rich historical tapestry woven with both triumphs and tragedies. Yet many believers are unfamiliar with the divergent forces that have shaped their faith. A valuable guide and introduction to that heritage is Two Kingdoms, by historians Robert Clouse, Richard Pierard, and Edwin Yamauchi.
The book explores not only the development of the institutional church, but also Christianity’s relationship to the surrounding culture—giving lessons that are especially appropriate today as the church adapts itself to a post-Christian age. We all can take heart when we read how past believers overcame challenges from both paganism and persecution.
Two Kingdoms also provides readers with a useful lesson in secular history. The authors survey the rise of feudalism, the collapse of Byzantium, post-Reformation conflict, and the carnage of the twentieth century—all the while reviewing Christianity’s cultural impact. These presentations exhibit sophistication despite their abbreviated length.
The book closes by listing some of the challenges facing the church—including racism, war, secularization, and women in ministry. Not surprisingly, one can disagree with the authors’ formulation of some of the issues. For instance, some would argue that the problem of the Third World is really poverty, not income disparity. But the existence of such differences merely highlights the need to discuss these subjects.
Overall, in reading Two Kingdoms one cannot help being overwhelmed with both the majesty and mystery of God’s method of redeeming humankind. And the more readers understand the legacy of their faith, the better able they will be to weave their experiences with those of the past, extending the tapestry of Christianity even further into the world.
Prophet Bayly
OUT OF MY MIND: THE BEST OF JOE BAYLY, edited by Timothy Bayly (Zondervan, 192 pp.; $10.99, paper). Reviewed by Stephen Board, president of Harold Shaw Publishers, Wheaton, Illinois
As a monthly columnist for the now-defunct Eternity magazine, where I was privileged to be his editor, Joseph T. Bayly surveyed the evangelical establishment with a prophetic pen from 1961 to 1986.
Now seven years since his death at 66 following open-heart surgery, Bayly’s provocative personality lives on in this compilation of his best columns.
Bayly was an evangelical pundit—a philosopher and orator. Overarching his formal roles was his real calling: to be a conscience for conservative evangelicals. Bayly kept us honest.
Joe Bayly often said what no one else was saying, but he also had a personal credibility that more glib critics lacked. He and Mary Lou Bayly had suffered the death of three sons; his words to people in crisis never sounded cheap. He grew up with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship’s pioneer years in the 1940s, then wove in and through evangelical publishing, boards of directors, and missions. He had fully paid his dues.
In his writing, Bayly often issued vexingly plausible counsel such as this advice to his children, hidden away in a column written after his first heart attack: “Don’t have TV. Refuse to rent your living room and your time—your own, your spouse’s, your children’s—to pagan hucksters. Ask whether you’d want these people as guests and friends in your home … and ask similar questions about Christian hucksters.” The Baylys never owned a television.
Bayly inveighed against pharisaism and spiritual lopsidedness. In one column, he recalls a Christian student gathering in the late forties in Europe that included some former Nazi soldiers who were believers. One soldier shared that because he had refused to participate in social dancing, he had lost his chance to become an officer. His church and home had taught him that dancing was wrong, but he had had no conscience about Jews. “I remember my feeling of surprise. Christians were the same everywhere—they weren’t afraid to speak out, even against Hitler, when it came to social dancing.”
If this fatherly conscience of evangelicalism were still among us, he would likely be writing on “seeker services” in churches, on the decline of the hymnbook in worship, on mission trips to Russia, on the place of money in Christian publishing and entertainment, and on the mushrooming of an American underclass, to name just a few current issues. To his creative credit, we don’t really know what he would say.
Montana Revelations
BITTER ROOTS, by John L. Moore (Thomas Nelson, 228 pp.; $10.99, paper). Reviewed by Robert Bittner, a freelance writer living in Lansing, Michigan.
“To kill the plant, you must kill the root,” notes Reba McColley, commenting on stubborn Montana flora in John Moore’s novel Bitter Roots. Yet her words also apply to the stubborn members of—the McColley clan, her family by marriage. In the McColleys’ case, the “plants” are divisiveness, jealousy, resentment, and mistrust that have grown wild for l three generations. And the “root” is the family’s patriarch, Alistair I McColley.
Although respected by his peers, Alistair is remembered by his kin as the man who represents everything bad about the family. Yet none of Alistair’s heirs has succeeded in redeeming the McColley name. A woman of indomitable faith, Reba desperately wants to see the McColleys come to terms with their history.
And God uses this desire. One night, Reba’s thoughts are interrupted by God’s voice: “My people are like books. They have stories that are read and stories that go unread. If you will listen and not judge, the unread will be told. Hear the story of the seed, taste of the fruit born from bitter roots.”
Reba accepts God’s invitation, opening her heart and mind to the myriad McColley stories. Subsequent chapters feature, in a loose short-story format, first-person accounts of McColleys both living and dead. As Reba moves from McColley to McColley, she learns their stories, secrets, and dreams. She also discovers truths behind the family’s myths and some surprising answers to the family’s questions.
With Bitter Roots, novelist and Montana rancher Moore (author of The Breaking of Ezra Riley, the 1990 winner of the CHRISTIANITY TODAY Critics’-Choice Award for fiction) tries to take popular Christian fiction to a new stylistic plateau. The attempt is not entirely successful.
In past books, Moore skillfully described his much-loved Montana landscape and the ranching men who wrest their livelihood from it. Here, Moore focuses on female characters and explores interpersonal relationships. Some chapters succeed to great effect, like “Breakin’ Ice” and “Sermons.” Others fall short, due to underdeveloped emotional interactions and stereotyped female characterization.
But Moore is a strong writer with a desire to explore life’s issues in a lyrical and realistic style, rooted as firmly in the natural landscape as it is rooted in Christian faith. If Bitter Roots disappoints, it is because it fails to sustain its own lofty ideals. We can wish that other evangelical novelists would aim as high.
