WHAT’S NEW WITH YOU?

The New Theology with its mistress New Morality has been cutting quite a swath in theological and philosophical circles, not to speak of ethical practices. Apparently the discovery of the day is that sex is fun. With the elimination of Victorian prudery and the apparent hardness of the old Puritanism, we are now released to enjoy, enjoy. Thus we are freed of all old disciplines, and life need no longer be dull. The primary point of reference in behavior now becomes the absolute of love, and under that rubric there is the place now at any age for “jest and youthful jollity.”

It comes to my attention frequently that the showdown in all this is between the new freedom with all its fulfillment and the grim requirements of some stern law-giver. It has occurred to me that the adjective “stern” always goes along with the law-giver. And it has finally occurred to me that there is something basically wrong with all this kind of reasoning.

Why must the law-giver always be stern? I would be desperately afraid to live in a world without law; and, if there is anything to the doctrine of sin as a kind of inbuilt, ingrown reality until one is sanctified, then I believe the old view that the law is necessary for restraint still holds. We have almost endless justifications and rationalizations for just plain lawless behavior; and I suspect that even our young people have learned to shift in on this “modern adult” viewpoint—namely, that the law is “harsh” and the law-giver “stern.” This just isn’t so.

Apart from what I think are necessary restraints for the sake of any ongoing society, the law also has its own kind of love. There is a right way to do everything, and it is only when we learn the right way that freedom comes. We must abide in the truth in order to be free.

Following the directions on the package makes the recipe work. The way into life is narrow, but it is the only way into the life abundant.

TAIWAN REVISITED

The survey of missions in Taiwan in the July 30 issue seems quite inaccurate and insufficient to describe a bustling, burgeoning, brimming people. My wife and I have just returned from a sabbatical spent in teaching on Taiwan and Korea and from our vantage point do not agree with the quotation, “shabby, noisy, ill-fated island.” We traveled on planes, trains, buses, pedicabs, with missionaries and by ourselves. Service was excellent, time schedules rigidly kept, and carriers in top-notch shape. We rode the length of the island on clean, air-conditioned trains with piped-in classical music and were served a choice of three kinds of tea! We spoke in churches, Bible institutes, seminars, press club, Evangelical Fellowship luncheon, and so on, and everywhere there was the energetic buoyancy of a hopeful people having endured great hardship in the past and now progressing militantly in the Lord. Eager students in the seminaries where we ministered demonstrated the spirit of optimism and confidence in a future under God.

We could not assess the government in such a short visit, but ex-congressman Dr. Walter Judd on campus in June spoke of his visit to Taiwan earlier in the spring and his observation of a keen and ready air force able to cut the Red Serpent in half whenever the signal is given. Not fewer missionaries but more are needed to train the willing and anxious rising young Christian leaders of the island.

Dept. of Christian Education

Gordon Divinity School

Wenham, Mass.

The periodical coverage of missions in various parts of the world is a superb contribution.…

Benton, Iowa

A CATHOLIC ALL ALONG?

I have read with interest your news report with regard to the Luci Johnson-James Pike “rebaptism” controversy (July 30 issue). Perhaps an Episcopalian might help to shed a little light on the subject.…

First of all, Luci did not renounce a “Protestant heritage,” as is commonly believed, possibly even by Luci herself. As an Episcopalian she was already a Catholic Christian—of Anglican rather than Roman obedience. But apparently Luci was not convinced of this fact. And it is understandable, knowing the sorry type of “fashionable” Episcopalianism dominant in the Washington, D. C., area. For it is an Episcopalianism which denies its own Catholic heritage in favor of the watered-down, secularized religion little different from the run-of-the-mill contemporary liberal Protestantism. And although there are certainly parishes there where the faith is taught and practiced in its fullness, Miss Luci was led to believe only Rome had this to offer with uniformity and certainty.

Secondly, the sorry type of Episcopalianism of which I speak is even the same espoused and practiced by the chief critic of both Luci and Father Montgomery. Sadly enough, this notorious bishop suffers from many things, chiefest of which is a morbid desire for constant attention. Presuming to be the official spokesman for the Episcopal Church on almost every issue (particularly those of a highly controversial nature), he practices rudeness and egotism with unequaled skill.…

I am convinced that when the Episcopal Church (indeed all of Anglicanism) begins believing and practicing “… all the Articles of the Christian Faith as contained in the Apostles’ Creed,” rather than some current vogue in German theology or the new English morality, then the pathetic Luci Johnsons will have no reason to reach to Rome for certainty; the James Pikes will probably have departed for Unitarianism (where they belong); and ecumenism will have been advanced many steps further towards true unity.

St. Andrew’s Church

Peoria, Ill.

The tragedy of Luci Johnson’s entrance into the Roman communion is that she did not understand or practice the Catholic faith in its fullness in the Anglican communion, the Episcopal Church. Episcopalians have Mass, Christ’s sacramental presence, confession, priesthood, and so on. Some Episcopal parishes have not told the whole truth of their Catholic and apostolic heritage and do not practice the same. I suspect that had Luci been exposed to Anglo-Catholicism, she would have never seen the need for a change.

Saint Barnabas Church

Omaha, Neb.

There is an aspect of this incident that ought not to pass overlooked, to wit, the very real doubt about the significance of any infant baptism and the very real evidence of a true understanding of entering any church.… Luci … innocently made a distinct contribution to the theory and practice of baptism, in a sense, calling to the attention of the entire world, Christian and non-Christian, that initiation into the church is an adolescent or adult concern, that entering the church should be “on one’s own,” dependent upon hearing and responding to the Gospel affirmatively.…

Danville, Ill.

GABRIEL OR MISS AMERICA?

Re “Angel on a Stamp” (News, July 30 issue) …: The imprint of the stamp showing the angel Gabriel depicts a feminine figure that even Miss America would be proud of. Perhaps it is of little wonder that many people look upon the church as “a woman’s place”.…

A. WAYNE JOHNSON

MEN of the Church of God

Coordinator

Anderson, Ind.

ANGLICAN IDENTITY

In reply to Canon Chase’s letter in the issue of July 30: What indeed can be adequate to make one an Anglican if not historical descent and adherence to the Book of Common Prayer of 1662 and its Thirty-Nine Articles? In any event, how can the Church of England in South Africa be out of communion with the Church of England in England, or indeed anywhere else? The only tests are those of historic, doctrinal, and legal continuity. The CESA passes each of these tests with flying colors, but what of the Church of the Province?

Whereas the Church of England had been in South Africa since 1806, the Church of the Province came into existence in 1870 as a deliberate consequence of the Tractarian views of its founders, particularly Bishop Gray, first Bishop of Cape Town. This church, to use Gray’s own words, was to be free from “the bonds and fetters of the Reformation.” “We bishops,” stated Gray, “are the only essential parts of this voluntary Association.”

The Privy Council in London, the highest Court of Appeal in the then British Empire, in 1882 upheld a decision of the Supreme Court of the Cape Colony which had laid down that the Church of the Province had severed from the Church of England “root and branch.” The Privy Council stated that there was not “identity in standards of faith and doctrine.”

Registrar

Church of England in South Africa

Cape Town, Union of South Africa

COMPANY OF DISTINCTION

In the article entitled “The Glow Within the Bible” by Emile Cailliet (July 16 issue) there is a reference to Tacitus.… The reference given is Annals IV, 18. I think this is not the proper reference.

Takoma Park, Md.

Your reader is right. The reference should read Annals IV, 8, instead of IV, 18. Somehow the 1 was added in transcription. And since Mr. Murray is interested in the text, let me give it to him in the original Latin: “Beneficia eo usque caeta sunt dum videntur exsolvi posse; ubi multum antevenere, pro gratia odium redditur.”

Not only is your reader right, but he finds himself in a distinguished company in the expression of his interest in the above text. The same was quoted by Montaigne in chapter 8, Book III, of his Essays, and by Pascal in Fragment 72, Section II, of his Pensées in the Brunschvicg Edition. Incidentally, Pascal added to his quotation this sentence from the Letters of Seneca (Letter 81 sub fine): “Nam qui putat esse turpe non reddere, non vult esse cui reddat.”

Cape May, N. J.

MISSOURI

Your treatment of the … convention of the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod (July 16 issue) was the best I have read in any of the periodicals.…

Surely the most far-reaching point of that body’s sessions (which I attended in part) was the approval of the Lutheran Council in the U. S. A. It is possible that Missouri will pull out of that newly formed council if she must otherwise compromise with her principles. In fact the student of the synod’s own history would not be surprised at all by such a move.…

Hdqrs. U. S. Army Training Center, Armor

Fort Knox, Ky.

I … am grateful for both the accuracy and the tone of the report. I find only one error, and that is the use of the word “entertain” in connection with the appearance of folk singer Pete Seeger at the Squaw Valley convention of the International Walther League.… He was to give the young people a valid encounter “in a controlled setting” with the world of folk music and thus help [them] “to understand better the challenge of bringing the love of Christ to all men and thus to be better prepared for a Christian day-by-day encounter with the world.”

Since Dr. Elmer N. Witt, executive director of the Walther League and synod’s director of youth work, offered “humble apologies” for the league’s failure to communicate effectively the philosophy behind the convention programming and many members were under the impression that Pete Seeger had been invited as an entertainer, your reporter can scarcely be faulted too seriously for reporting that Seeger was invited to “entertain” our young people.…

Lindsay Lutheran

Lindsay, Calif.

PAUL AND THE APOSTLES

Clark H. Pinnock’s article on form criticism (July 16 issue) could be a valuable tool in understanding form criticism. However, if Pinnock’s treatment of form criticism, towards which he is admittedly antagonistic, is as distorted as his treatment of the New Testament, towards which he is professedly loyal, then perhaps the whole article lacks integrity and is useless for scholarly work.

Pinnock points out in proposition 4 that Paul conferred with Peter in Jerusalem (Gal. 1:18). He then implies that Paul deliberately depended on eyewitness apostles for authoritative information about Jesus and for the basis of his (Paul’s) teaching. Paul in Galatians 1 is obviously saying just the opposite. “I did not confer with flesh and blood, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were apostles before me, but I went away into Arabia; and again I returned to Damascus. Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas, and remained with him fifteen days. But I saw none of the other apostles except James the Lord’s brother” (Gal. 1:17b–19, RSV). Paul’s clear claim is his own apostleship and that he received his revelation directly from Jesus Christ, not from men, including eyewitness apostles. Rather than stating his dependence on the apostles, as Pinnock claims, Paul is stating his independence from the apostles.

It seems the New Testament Professor Pinnock’s theology interfered with his New Testament exegesis.

Gethsemane Baptist Church

Coon Rapids, Minn.

Having spent two years studying theology and the Church in Central Europe, I have a healthy appreciation of his remarks.

What too few Americans realize is that, far from reflecting a scientific objectivity, much of the historical and biblical criticism emanating from Central Europe is the peculiar product of a peculiar frame of mind wrought by some very peculiar historical and social circumstances.

It has often occurred to me that if we must deal with any age in the light of historical relativity, let that age be our own!

Trinity Lutheran

J. ROBERT JACOBSON

Westlock, Alberta

I appreciate the warning signal this presents to our age and theology.…

Calvary Methodist

Tacoma, Wash

INFERIOR DECORATION

Just how would you rate the crew of a life-saving station which gives all its attention to its station? The men made their quarters attractive, they landscaped the grounds, they designed very interesting uniforms, and a loudspeaker provided lovely music for the people both outside and inside the building. In fact, they were so occupied with their pleasant surroundings that they forgot to notice the storms that drove men and ships to destruction. It is conceivable that men could become so occupied with secondary things that they would forget their primary purpose!

Does it not seem equally far-fetched for people who call themselves Christians to become so involved with the interior life of their church—its property, its program, its groups and committees—that they forget all about the lost condition of people outside the church?

The members of Christ’s Church are not to be entertained and waited upon; they are a life-saving crew. Have we forgotten our purpose as Christians?

Redford Baptist

Detroit, Mich.

FOR CHRISTIAN RESOLUTION

How fine and how strengthening in Christian resolve is Dr. Bell’s column (“What Standards?”) in the July 16 issue.…

Memphis, Tenn.

RIGHT-TO-JOIN

Thank you for defending the right-to-work laws (Editorials, May 21 issue). Although the House of Representatives repealed Section 14 (b) of the Taft-Hartley Act, it did not repeal the right of workers to join a Christian union.

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

BIBLE IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS

Thank you for the editorial “A Strategy for Christian Education” in the May 7 issue. The remarks on page 30 touch on a matter of deep concern to me and about which I had been planning to write you.

When I was a public high school English teacher in Michigan, I regularly taught a section on the history and literature of the Bible. This was so well received by the school administration and was so effective with both Christian and non-Christian students in introducing them to the deeper use of the Bible, that the experience came to mind during the time of public reaction to the Supreme Court decision relative to the devotional use of the Bible in public schools.…

Community Baptist Church

Neptune, N. J.

FROM GREENLAND’S ICY MOUNTAINS

In places like this, magazine articles as in the May 21 issue are the only source of spiritual and intellectual “stretching” or exercise.

U. S. Army Polar Research and Chaplain Development Center

Greenland

How a young preacher makes up his own theology as he goes along.

Result: The chicken dinners now outdraw the services.

I have just had my first head-on encounter with do it-yourself religion, and I find myself confused, concerned—and contrite.

Reared in an ultra-conservative and intolerant atmosphere, I was compelled, as were thousands of others in my generation, to develop my own beliefs. Many years in newspaper work developed in me a habit of stating facts or opinions as directly as possible and, on the other hand, of seeking to ascertain not only what a person believes but his reason for so doing. During the past four years my work has brought me into close contact with hundreds of evangelical Christians. Some of them regarded some of my opinions as too liberal, others thought them too conservative. Following a middle-of-the-road course, I held fast to my basic beliefs but often found new and modern ways of expressing them.

Although I was aware that dozens of “isms” and theologies, some new and others merely refurbished, had invaded the Protestant seminaries and pulpits, I paid them scant attention. Like the Apostle Paul, I knew whom I had believed, and I was not greatly concerned about vagaries of belief to which various clergymen subscribed.

And then I came home—to a little rural crossroads community that two generations ago boasted seven churches but today finds two more than enough. Working together under a tentative agreement, the two churches afford ample facilities of worship for the residents of the countryside, most of whom never pass through the doors of either church, except when a chicken dinner or special program attracts them.

I found the cooperative pulpit occupied by a young, personable clergyman, a graduate of a theologically conservative college who had subsequently acquired his theological education in several more “liberal” seminaries. Ordained in a denomination generally regarded as conservative, he had become persona non grata in that, was employed as a preacher by a somewhat more “liberal” denomination, and was anxious to obtain ministerial standing in a third and still more liberal denomination.

This meandering pathway to “success” in the ministry was confusing to one reared in the belief that a minister should have a vocation to the ministry, that he should share the belief of the Apostle Paul that “woe is me if I preach not the Gospel,” and that there is something inherently dishonest in a man’s acceptance of pay for proclaiming a message he does not believe. The confusion was accentuated by certain of the preacher’s beliefs. It would be unfair to say that these beliefs were proclaimed. They were not sown by a “sower who went forth to sow.” Rather, they were dropped here and there in “sermons,” almost surreptitiously, as some wanderer in a forest might leave a trail in the hope that others might follow it. At no time did the preacher flatly assert, “I believe”; he used instead the non-committal phrase, “I think.” Over a period of weeks, however, it was possible to determine some of his opinions, especially those that were negative, and to verify the determination by private conversations.

He admitted candidly that he does not “believe in any exterior God,” and it soon became evident that he was using the adjective in its philosophical sense—“existing apart from the mind.”

He does not believe in prayer in the orthodox sense but thinks of it rather as an emotional catharsis—accomplishing nothing that could not be accomplished by telling one’s troubles to one’s mirrored image or to a qualified psychiatrist.

He regards the sacraments as inconvenient religious mores, whose significance has been lost long since in the mists of tradition.

He believes that Jesus was no different from other men, and that he did nothing that any other man was incapable of doing.

The Crucifixion is for him “a great tragedy”—nothing more, with nothing in it that “was pleasing to God” and nothing in the nature of redemptive self-sacrifice for the salvation of mankind. “How much more good he [Jesus] could have accomplished if he had been allowed to live out his normal life span.” As for the Resurrection, he holds that each person is entitled to his own belief (ranging from outright rejection of any resurrection to insistence on bodily resurrection), that the belief chosen is immaterial, and that the important thing is to discover for oneself what “touchstone” within Jesus made him “stand out,” so that his followers believed in the Resurrection.

The preacher’s sole criterion of morality is “an awareness of human values”—how, when, or by what means obtained he would not state, insisting that “it’s just there.” For him, the sole compulsion to a course of conduct is that the chosen course should “enable me to realize my potential more fully.”

Both in the pulpit and in private conversation he displayed an obsession with the subject of sex, a marked tendency to seek a sexual motivation in specific instances of human conduct, and a morbid disposition to engage in detailed discussion of such motivation or its frustration.

His most scornful criticism of beliefs that I hold in common with thousands of other Christians was that they resulted from some “vestige of the reward-and-punishment theory—that you do not do some things because you’re afraid of going to hell, and you do some things so that you’ll get to heaven.” Told that some Christians obey Christ’s commands because of a deep and compelling love for him, the preacher commented that he had “never heard this put on that person-to-person basis before.”

My confusion may be traced to several sources. For one, it was virtually impossible to classify the preacher’s beliefs. I am acquainted with Jean-Paul Sartre’s atheistic existentialism and with Sören Kierkegaard’s “Christian” version of existentialism. I can follow Tillich’s argument that God is the “ground of our being” without too much difficulty, and I have some vague comprehension of what Bonhoeffer means when he speaks of the “beyond in our midst.” In the young preacher’s sermons and conversation there were at times faint traces of all these and other philosophies. Yet, as often as not, he departed from them to wander in some philosophical bypath.

He resents being dubbed an “atheist,” but his concept of God would escape the most diligent listener. He holds that prayer is pointless, yet each week he addresses a liturgical prayer to God, presumably the God in whom he does not believe. His customary reference to Christ is “Jesus of Nazareth, this man …”; yet he pronounces a benediction that begins, “May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.…”

I am concerned, not because I fear for my own faith—it has sustained me too long to be lightly shaken now—but because of the large number of young people, approximately half of the combined congregation, who listen each week to this carefully diluted denial of the Christian faith. There is a swelling chorus of such remarks as, “He knocks the props out from under everything we’ve been taught to believe, but he doesn’t give us anything in its place.” As one young woman expressed it, “I just don’t know what to believe any more.”

In addition to my confusion and concern, I feel a deep sense of contrition because I must share the guilt of thousands of Christians who have said, in words or substance, “Everyone has to think these things through for himself,” and have neglected to insist that all necessary information be supplied so that such thinking may be effective and may result in sound conclusions.

The do-it-yourself fad has moved into the realm of religion, and there is increasing evidence that the results may be just as disastrous there as they have been in many cases of amateur carpentering. What blueprint does the advocate of this egoistic religion offer to those who would save themselves without exterior aid? Against what errors in judgment does he warn his listeners? Above all, what is to be the ultimate result of the self-reliant religionist’s endeavor?

Many men have succumbed to the do-it-yourself fad without either training or experience in handicraft, only to learn that it would have been better had they turned to outside help in the first place. And many Christians, having listened to the consistent advocacy of do-it-yourself religion from some modern pulpits, will find themselves driven back to more careful consideration of Colossians 2:8–10, which J. B. Phillips translates: “Be careful that nobody spoils your faith through intellectualism or high-sounding nonsense. Such stuff is at best founded on men’s ideas of the nature of the world, and disregards Christ! Yet it is in him that God gives a full and complete expression of himself (within the physical limits that he set himself in Christ). Moreover, your own completeness is realized only in him, who is the authority over all authorities, the supreme power over all powers.”

T. Leo Brannon is pastor of the First Methodist Church of Samson, Alabama. He received the B.S. degree from Troy State College and the B.D. from Emory University.

A minister of forty years indulges in a bit of fantasy, sits in a pew, and surveys the church.…

Some time ago a religious journal ran a series of intriguing articles under the general title, “If I Were a Minister.” Every article was written by a layman whose privilege it was to “sit under” a particular preacher Sunday by Sunday. Ministers were told firmly, yet kindly, all sorts of useful things—how to preach, how to pray in public, how to visit the sick, how to counsel the perplexed, how to work happily with all sorts of people, how to look after the young and the middle-aged and the old, how to deal with the strong-willed and with the tenderhearted members of the flock, how to manage the cranks who come along, and so on. They were urged to be tactful without being insincere, to be patient without being slack, to be interesting without being sensational, to be up-to-date without being disloyal to the historic faith. Altogether the articles were a compendium of first-rate advice to which all preachers might well give earnest heed.

I have since been on the lookout for a complementary series—this time by ministers—entitled, “If I Were a Church Member.” So far this series has not appeared, but I feel quite well qualified to offer some suggestions for a first article. It is now half a century since, while yet a boy, I was received into church membership, and forty years since I was ordained to the gospel ministry. Suppose I had not become a preacher! Suppose I had remained all through the years just a church member, or had become an elder or deacon or steward—what then? How should I have shaped up to my responsibilities, met my obligations, performed my duties, and regarded my privileges as a member of Christ’s Church?

Well, I think that, first of all, I should be quite happy about my place in the church. Even if I were only an obscure member of a small congregation, I should nevertheless magnify my office and rejoice in my good fortune as one of Christ’s “little ones.” I should often remind myself of the wonder of church membership. Every Sunday as I joined in the worship and witness of the congregation, I should devoutly thank God for the high and holy privilege of being part of “the household of faith” and of “the ground and pillar of truth.” I should rejoice in the fact that I belonged to “the flock of God.”

Not that I should detract from membership in any other group to which I might belong. If I were a member of a basketball team, or a literary society, or a professional association, I should strive to be a worthy member. But I should seek to put the church first all the time, knowing that despite its human characteristics—indeed, its faults and failings—it is in its wholeness no mere human association but the very “Body of Christ.” I should sometimes say to myself, with St. Augustine, “Let others wrangle; I shall wonder.”

And with this never-ceasing wonder in my heart, I should strive to be an active member of “the household of faith,” and not merely a sleeping partner. I should realize that my pastor is much happier about people who are usefully engaged in church activities than about those who remain on the sidelines, and that for the most part such people are too happy to be complainers. It is those members who do nothing, save look on critically at those who do something, who are the troublemakers; and that is the last thing I should want to be. In every church, as in other groups, there are people willing to work and people willing to let them. I should want to be among the former, knowingfull well that it is those members who work for Christ in the church who most truly know the blessedness of Christian living.

Secondly, if I were a church member, I should do my utmost to engender the spirit of harmony in the congregation, knowing that a “house divided against itself cannot stand.” Not that I should always expect unanimity of opinion or uniformity of action; it takes all sorts of people to make a church, and differences of opinion are bound to occur. But I should try to remember that differences of opinion are but the division of labor in the search for truth and in the effort to discover the will of God in a given situation. Hearts touched by the Holy Spirit can agree, even though heads may differ, in seeking the solution to a difficult church problem. And so long as my fellow members agreed on the main points of the church’s life and witness, I should not be unduly disturbed by minor disagreements.

Hence I should pray for my pastor, for the congregation, and for myself, knowing that prayer is not only “the sword of the saints” (as Francis Thompson put it) but also the solvent of difficulties. At every worship service I should seek, through intercession and thanksgiving, to help create that atmosphere in which man’s work for God can best be done. I should ask for grace to love everybody, even those whom I found it hard to like. I should do my best to be on good working terms with the awkward, the touchy, the disgruntled, the people who think they should get more attention than they do. I should try to keep always in mind the proved spiritual fact that an atmosphere of prayer is far more effective than a barrage of criticism; and I should let prayer win.

In the third place, if I were a church member, I should seek to encourage my fellow travelers in the Christian way. There are many disappointments in church life; there are things that depress us in our dealings with fellow believers. But knowing how easily we influence one another, I should say to my fellow workers in Christ’s cause: “Be of good courage. Be strong in the Lord and in the power of his might.” And I should look as if I meant it.

I should speak words of appreciation to my pastor, to the church officials, to the choir members, to church school teachers, to my fellow members, even to the janitor, whenever possible. Although we sometimes sing, “The Master praises; what are men?,” the human word of cheer helps mightily and can even save some despairing worker from giving up.

Fourthly, if I were a church member, I should realize that not one of us is infallible, not even the youngest; and so I should graciously submit to the will of the majority, even though I might believe a majority decision to be wrong. I should not be over-fond of having my own way. If I gave offense, even unwittingly, I should be willing to apologize; and I should be equally willing to forgive anyone who might have offended me, even deliberately. When I came across a tangle in church life I should do what I could to straighten it out, recalling that our Lord pronounced his blessing on the peacemakers.

I should set a watch on my tongue, thereby escaping the dangers of irresponsible gossip. I should especially refrain from criticizing the church and its members before children, before young people, before outsiders. I should “talk it up” wisely and enthusiastically, hoping to commend it to people who sit lightly to the things of God.

Fifthly, if I were a church member, I should support my church in every possible way, by my attendance and by my contributions, even to the point of sacrificial giving of time and money and energy. I should seek to interest my non-churchgoing friends and neighbors in the church, and should always speak of Christ’s Church as if it were (as indeed it is) the most wonderful association of people upon earth.

I should look up absentees, and inform the minister of any whom I know to be sick or in trouble. I should welcome visitors so that they would not feel strangers in God’s house, giving them my seat if necessary, or my hymnbook.

I should strive to make my church the most sympathetic and understanding group in the community, a place where poor sinners and puzzled saints could find sympathy, fellowship, and inspiration, a place of forgiveness and healing and hope and assurance. In fact, I should do all in my power to bring about the answer to the oft-said prayer: “Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven,” recognizing that I could do this only as I depended upon the enabling grace of Christ Jesus my Lord.

Finally, if I were a church member, I should try to keep ever before me my duty to bear witness, in daily character and conduct, to the redeeming grace of the Saviour. Sometimes I should remind myself of the old Roman proverb, “Nothing is more useful than salt and sunshine.” And always I should seek to implement in speech and action the saving truth in our Lord’s word to all his disciples, “Ye are the salt of the earth,” “Ye are the light of the world”—salt to save men from moral decay, light to deliver men from spiritual darkness. Thus I should know the close connection between worship and witness; my place in the worshiping congregation would keep the salt from losing its savor and prevent the light from being hidden under a bushel.

Having read all that I have written you may well exclaim: “What a pity you ever became a minister! What a pity you did not remain a church member!” Alas! I fear that had I remained a church member I should often have failed grievously, for it is a very high ideal I have set forth. But “not failure, but low aim is crime,” and “who aims a star shoots higher far than he who aims a tree.” What a difference it would make to the Church—and to the world—if only our spiritual aims were higher! How much faster would God’s saving purpose for mankind be realized, if only every one of us strove more earnestly in Christ’s strength to be a worthy member of his Body, the Church!

T. Leo Brannon is pastor of the First Methodist Church of Samson, Alabama. He received the B.S. degree from Troy State College and the B.D. from Emory University.

“Contemporary non-evangelical theologians are increasingly interested in the theology of missions.… Evangelicals are strangely silent.”

Missions as a theological concept and a definite field in theology is no ancient phenomenon. When, in 1951, Dr. C. Stanley Smith sought material on the theology of missions in the Yale Divinity School library, that notable library yielded him only two books on the subject. He concluded for those for whom he was writing his study: “It would seem, therefore, that in attempting to define the theological basis of the Church’s missionary obligation our Commission has practically a clear field without much precedent” (Missionary Obligation Studies, 1952).

Although an evangelical might wish to take issue with this negative conclusion, the vacuum was as evident within evangelical literature as elsewhere. Aside from popular presentations of missions, like R. H. Glover’s The Bible Basis of Missions, one would have had to look long and hard fifteen years ago to find evangelical material dealing with missions as a theological concept. The systematic theologies of Hodge, Strong, and Chafer, endorsed by many evangelicals, left no room for missions in their structure. What was true outside the evangelical camp was equally true within it: missions was considered a practical task, to which theology was related only in the rather vague and indirect way in which it was related to all other practical aspects of Christianity.

The situation has changed radically—at least outside evangelical circles. Beginning especially with the International Missionary Council’s conference at Willingen, Germany, in 1952, contemporary theologians have actively and fully involved themselves with missions as a part of the theological task. Two recent books demonstrate this. Gerald Anderson’s The Theology of the Christian Mission, published in 1961, includes essays on theology and missions written by such well-known contemporaries as Cullmann, Barth, Blauw, Newbigin, Lindsell, and Tillich. Equally significant is the publication of The Missionary Nature of the Church, by Johannes Blauw. This work is a concise study of the theological basis of missions as seen in the writings of contemporary theologians. Among the more important authors Blauw cites are Jeremias, Ridderbos, Von Rad, Stauffer, Rowley, and Cullmann.

But this acceptance of missions as a legitimate theological subject has not yet deeply penetrated evangelical thought. One searches vainly through most of the evangelical periodicals for essays on missions from a theological vantage point. The theological journals yield only a polemical sortie or two. And with a few notable exceptions, the book lists of evangelical publishers for the past fifteen years reflect the same situation. Recent studies in systematic theology have usually followed the pattern of their predecessors in omitting missions from their theological framework. A survey of the content of theological courses in most evangelical schools confirms the thesis. It seems odd that, sitting through a class in systematic theology for two years at an evangelical school noted for its missionary emphasis, I never once heard missions related to theology. Equally baffling in this respect was a course in ecclesiology in a reputable evangelical institution: missions was brought in only as a sub-subpoint under church function, and required no more than five minutes of class time. These are by no means exceptional cases. Evangelical theology appears almost oblivious to missions as a topic for interest, study, or discussion.

For evangelicalism this is most awkward, because one of its hallmarks has been its fervent missionary concern and activity. Missionary magazines, books, films, and conferences abound everywhere. No evangelical church today would deny missions a place, small though it may be, in its budget. In recent years the number of missionaries from North America sent out by evangelical groups has increased notably, a trend not matched by the numerically larger non-evangelical groups.

The silence of evangelical theology is especially awkward in view of the high-sounding theological assertions made in the promotion of evangelical missions. Thus we read:

The enterprise known as world-wide missions, then, is simply the carrying into effect of the divine purpose and project from the foundation of the world. Its accomplishment is the one sublime event toward which the whole creation moves forward, and which will constitute the consummation and crown of all God’s dealings with the human race [The Bible Basis of Missions, by R. H. Glover, Los Angeles, 1946, p. 14].

Such vast claims for missions are by no means infrequent in popular missionary presentations.

Thus we are confronted with a serious problem. On the one side, contemporary non-evangelical theologians are increasingly interested in the theology of missions. On the other side, evangelicalism, thoroughly committed to missions and, on the more popular level, making bold theological claims for missions, is strangely silent about the theology of missions.

One is tempted to ask why. But there is a far more basic question to be asked. Since evangelical theology does not take its cue from the trends of the times or from popular assertions, the real question is: Does missions actually have a place in theology? What do the Scriptures say? These are the questions evangelical theology must answer in the light of current trends and assertions.

The New Testament writers are not silent on missions and theology. In First Peter, for instance, the apostle finds proclamation of the saving acts of God as the purpose of the redeemed community. The chosen race, the royal priesthood, the holy nation, exists, Peter says (2:9, 10), to proclaim the glorious deeds of God. Already the readers had been reminded that they were recipients of God’s saving action in Christ, effectively proclaimed through the ministry of the Holy Spirit and men (1 Pet. 1:11, 12). Now Peter informs them that the recipients are to become the agents. The Church’s function is gospel proclamation. Peter makes no common cause with those who say the Church is mission, who find the Church’s distinctiveness solely in its function. He says that service to God is rooted in proper relation to God. This is clear from the context, both in the preceding appellations for the Church and in the relative clause that follows: “Which in time past were not a people, but are now the people of God.” The redeemed community is certainly called to be God’s instrument, but it is the redeemed community that is called.

On the other hand, Christian theology has often been content to discuss the Church only as redeemed, with too little attention to its nature and purpose as instrument. It has read only the main clause of First Peter 2:9, 10, reveling in the titles of the Church without going on to the important purpose clause. Peter at least placed missions squarely in the middle of his ecclesiology.

One major treatment of missions as a theological concept occurs in the Gospel of John. Yet it is distressing how few commentaries on John, or biblical theologies based on Johannine thought, allude to this. The awareness of mission in John’s Gospel centers in its frequent reference to Christ as having been sent by God. The Greek words pempo and apostello appear forty-two times in John alone, out of fifty-seven occurrences in the whole New Testament. Since the concept of the mission of Christ is intrinsic to Johannine Christology, the Gospel might well be called the Gospel of the Christ-mission. A careful exegetical study of the book will demonstrate this. Our brief summary, all that is possible here, will show the progressive development of the Christ-mission concept through the book.

The mission of Christ is often and pointedly asserted in the opening twelve chapters. Even a cursory reading indicates this. This mission of Christ is said to be to the whole world. “For God sent the Son into the world … that the world might be saved through him. He who believes in him is not condemned; he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God” (John 3:17, 18, RSV). Therefore Karl Heinrich Rengstorf points out: “His mission acquires its ultimate meaning and pathos in its demand for the decision and division of men” (Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, Grand Rapids, 1964, I, 406).

In the second half of the Book of John is an additional and sometimes overlooked disclosure concerning the Christ-mission. Christ says to his disciples (13:20): “He who receives any one whom I send receives me; and he who receives me receives him who sent me.” There is something new here. That God sent Christ is repeated. But for the first time a reference is made to another sending, a sending different from Christ’s but intimately related to it. Not only is Christ sent: he also sends, and the reception of the sent servant is equated with the reception of Christ himself as the Sent One.

In John 17 Christ prays that his own who have believed may be kept from evil as they remain in the world after his departure. Then he says: “As thou didst send me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.” His will for the disciples includes more than remaining in the world and being kept from evil. The very mission of God in Christ is now said to become God’s mission in Christ through them. Even as in the Christ-mission men were called upon to believe unto eternal life, so it will be through his disciples when he is no longer present: “I do not pray for these only, but also for those who believe in me through their word” (17:20).

After the resurrection, Christ appears to the disciples and says: “As the Father has sent me, even so I send you” (John 20:21b). Familiarity has dulled the impact of this pregnant sentence. Seen against the whole background of Johannine thought, it confronts us with the staggering assertion that the mission of God in Christ to the world is now extended through his disciples. Their mission is the Christ-mission. For John, Christology and missions were of the same piece.

Paul also accords missions an integral place in his theological thought. He writes: “All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor. 5:18). The “all this” refers to the total re-creative work of God in redemption. From the previous verse, “if any one is in Christ, he is a new creation …,” and from verse 21, “for our sake he made him to be sin … that in him we might become the righteousness of God,” we can infer that the “we” of verse 21 is not an editorial “we” of Paul, nor the “we” of Paul and his associates, but the “we” of those who are new creations in Christ, the ones who were the objects of God’s reconciling act in Christ.

Paul says God’s action is twofold: he has reconciled “us” to himself through Christ, and he has given to “us” the service of reconciliation. “Such is the mystery of all God’s doings,” says J. H. Bavinck, “that God transforms every object into a fellow-subject, a co-worker” (An Introduction to the Science of Missions, Philadelphia, 1961, p. 43). Therefore Paul boldly declares that the “we” who have been reconciled are the very “ambassadors” of Christ.

Paul does not speak simply of the mission of the Church, or of the mission of Christ. The whole assertion centers in God, who initiates the action and retains the position of Initiator, so that any appeal we make is in fact the appeal of God through us in his mission of reconciliation: “God making his appeal through us.” Missions for Paul is the mission of God himself.

These summaries have been brief. But they suggest that missions is more deeply grounded in New Testament theology than evangelical students of theology generally acknowledge. In fact, a careful study of the New Testament may show that missions is so intimately interwoven with the great truths of the New Testament that any failure of theology to relate itself to missions is really a failure to represent New Testament teaching correctly. If so, evangelical theology must bring missions in from the fringes of its interests to a central position. Failure to do so will surely belie its claim of commitment to biblical truth.

EVANGELISM AND DOCTRINE

We may be getting so “fair-minded,” so “dialectical,” so anxious to present all the negative sides of the issues, so anxious to preach our question marks and our critical and intellectual doubts, that we have failed to preach and teach our people the great positive doctrinal truths. In fact, we may be in danger of developing what one professor called an intellectual but “doctrinally illiterate” membership.

When there is strong doctrinal preaching, there is usually a healthy and virile church. The sermons in the New Testament (largely evangelistic) were fraught with great doctrines; the fact of Christ, the death of Christ, the return of Christ, the redemptive power of Christ, the sinfulness of man, man’s need of a Saviour, and an urgent appeal in invitation to commit oneself to him as Saviour and Lord.

There is a need for evangelistic preaching that has the depth and force of great doctrinal content in it. The Holy Ghost will use it to convict of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment. Perhaps he will use it to bring revival in our land.—Newman R. McLarry, Division of Evangelism, Home Mission Board, Southern Baptist Convention, in Capital Baptist.

T. Leo Brannon is pastor of the First Methodist Church of Samson, Alabama. He received the B.S. degree from Troy State College and the B.D. from Emory University.

A noted layman presents seven propositions to help evangelicals find meaning in the complex patterns of history

Why, after two world wars, a worldwide economic depression, and the failure of two world peace organizations, and in the midst of world revolution, has there been no new evangelical approach to a Christian interpretation of history? Is it because evangelicals are so involved and immediately concerned with the facts of revolt and apostasy that they cannot assimilate them into a general scheme? Or is it because the only scholars interested in such matters are so blindly committed to interpretative schemes developed before the twentieth century that they are unwilling to adjust hypotheses and theories to new facts?

Any adequate and acceptable Christian interpretation of history must take into account the following: (1) God has revealed the pattern and purpose of history; (2) there has been but one history; (3) therefore, any interpretation must set forth the complete consonance of God’s revelation with historical fact, for all the history of the past is in keeping with the revealed pattern and purpose.

God’s plan of salvation is so simple a child can grasp its requirements for participation. But God’s historical pattern is complex. In fact, it is so complex that men have difficulty in comprehending just what it is in which we participate. This is particularly true of all that lies ahead. The pattern shown in Scripture is there for all to read; yet it is so complex that no man has ever exhaustively set forth its nature.

That God’s historical pattern is revealed is stated in Scriptures such as Amos 3:7, “Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets.” The purpose of the revelation is twofold. First, it stands as a witness against unfaithful men (Isa. 46:8–10; 48:3–5); and second, it allows the faithful to understand history as it unfolds (Luke 24:25–27; John 16:4, 13; 14:29; 13:19).

The one and only history is also sufficiently recorded for all to read. A thousand histories could be invented, but not one of these imagined histories would necessarily accord with real history. There could have been many different histories; there has been only one. The particular written account of this history is largely determined by the pattern the historian adopts on philosophical grounds. However, since the pattern is from outside humanity—i.e., revealed—it is necessary to take a very hard look at the facts that should be incorporated in written accounts.

Christians believe that whatever history has happened is according to God’s sovereign will and purpose, both of which are revealed in the Bible. Now either the history fits the pattern, or Christians have not selected the pertinent historical facts and events, or they have misread the pattern, or they are mistaken in believing that there is a revealed pattern. For evangelical Christians, the preferred alternative is that they have misread the pattern. Inadequacy in grasping the pattern can be partially compensated for by deriving the pattern from actual history. Yet this is of secondary value. And it is also dangerous, because natural, human, and apparently logical presuppositional grounds are difficult to keep out. It is not at all easy to reduce the total pattern of history to logic. Nevertheless, an attempt to do so may prove helpful to the extent that it increases our faith and confidence in God. The pattern is truly translogical, because its author is the transcendent God.

We believe the Bible teaches that history is neither open-ended nor cyclical but climactic. In the Bible there is so much said of judgment, harvest, the fullness of time, the Day of the Lord, and the like that we are not able to think of history otherwise than as climactic.

When will the end come? The answer is that it will come when the knowledge of God’s offer of salvation becomes planet-wide. It will come when all peoples have heard the message of redemption. When “this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations … then shall the end come” (Matt. 24:14). Modern means of communication and travel have made this possible in our century. The worldwide missionary enterprise has taken the Gospel to governmental representatives of every soul on the face of the earth. The witness has gone out to multitudes. Nations and peoples have made their choice. Increasingly, Christians must realize they live in a non-Christian society. Apostasy and revolt have set in within the institutionalized church.

We are now in a unique situation. The increase in world population is a problem to be assessed in terms of the capacity of the earth for people. For the first time in human history, the continued existence of life on earth is thought to be in the hands of man himself with his capability of self-destruction through nuclear or biological warfare. Moreover, man’s venture into space raises questions about his ultimate habitat. These factors of witness, revolt, population, self-destruction, and space have faced man with issues concerning his final destiny. The situation is like the one Scripture predicts as that in which God will resolve all history.

The following propositions may be helpful in building a Christian interpretation of history. Some of them may seem inappropriate and even discordant to those whose chief vocational concern has been the witness of the Church. Others may seem unreasonable to those whose Bible study and teaching have been confined to the New Testament. For the Christian interpretation of history, a more than superficial knowledge of the entire Bible is imperative. Only through such a knowledge can the basic criterion, “What does the Bible say?,” be applied.

1. God is Creator, man is creature; God is sovereign, man is subject. Our very creaturehood dictates that we are not masters of our own destiny. God is the Lord of History. We do not compose history; we comprise history. We are too base, self-willed, ignorant, arrogant, inadequate, natural, and earthy to provide for our own salvation. Man is separated from God, who created him. Man not in full fellowship with God is said to be lost. The biblical word for this condition is sin. Yet if man is not to be a mere automaton, he must be endowed with choice.

2. God has provided a way to salvation, restoration, completeness, happiness, righteousness, triumph, glory, and eternal life. This way is in history. God did not at a time in the past call for the ultimate decision of all mankind and close the offer. Rather he has allowed the offer of salvation to work out in time (history) that he may bring “many sons to glory.” The central element of the offer is eternal life in the presence of God, which transcends all material existence. The offer is based on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The essential response of man to the offer is acceptance of the free gift of eternal life by faith. The ultimate end of the offer is the reign of Christ in righteousness over the whole of creation. Thus history fulfills God’s purpose (1 Cor. 15:24, 25).

3. For men to be confronted with the offer, there must be channels of communication through which the choice is presented. The principal channel was a matter of God’s choosing—namely, Abraham and his progeny. It must be admitted as a matter of historical fact that in Abraham’s day God did not reveal himself equally to all divisions of mankind. This principal channel of blessing involves both a Person and a people—Christ and Israel, the one seed and the many seed of Abraham.

4. That the choice is real is shown by the following: there are many men today who confess that they do not believe in the God of Abraham and that they are not related to God in Jesus Christ. Indeed, some declare themselves to be knowingly lost and without hope. On the other hand, there are men who confess that they do believe in the God of Abraham and that they are related to him by faith in Jesus Christ. They are knowingly saved and certain of eternal life. These facts accord with Scripture.

5. The Church has been chiefly concerned with Christ and with his Person and his work of redemption. It has been a fellowship of believers and a messenger of the offer to “whosoever will.” Until recently the Church had not been primarily concerned with the social issues of corporate society. Of late, the Marxists have offered a materialistic substitute salvation through authoritative corporate action that denies the individual his personal sovereignty of choice. The Church, through its social gospel, is fast approaching the same position.

6. The role of Israel—and subsequently of the whole body of God’s people in history—has not been understood, because this part of the general scheme is not incorporated into a general theory. This is particularly true of the relation of Israel to the Church and the place of Israel in history, as set forth in the Old Testament. Any good interpretation of history requires a proper understanding of these matters, since, in addition to the person and work of Christ, history involves people. That Israel is central is attested by:

a. The specific promises to Israel in the Old Testament that were not completely fulfilled in New Testament times. Some confusion has arisen through the failure to give careful consideration to the distribution of the many provisions of the Abrahamic covenant to the several divisions of the descendants of Jacob.

b. The promise in the Old Testament that Israel is to be the agency of blessings brought to the Gentiles.

c. The proposition consistently presented throughout the New Testament that the Gentiles are added to, and are not a replacement of, the corporate body of Israel (Rom. 11; Eph. 2; Gal. 3). The unconditional promises to Abraham have never been retracted, abrogated, or annulled.

7. The culmination of history is the ingathering of believers of all generations through resurrection into one people of God, when Christ returns to reign over the earth. All our hopes for peace, health, and righteousness are centered in this one hope of his coming again. The details of the circumstances in which he will return are not yet clearly understood, and beyond the glorious appearing of Christ the details are even more obscure. However, we are confident that the tabernacle of God will be with men, and God will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and he will be their God (Heb. 4; Rev. 21:3).

If these considerations lead to a pattern of history unfamiliar to us, then we are faced with two alternatives: either to show that this is not the biblical pattern, or to show that history fulfills it. It is the Bible, not merely traditional teaching, that gives the pattern; and it is the historical facts, not merely written accounts, that show the affairs of men as response to God’s sovereign will.

The great symphonic theme of the Bible is the story of Christ—his Person, his word of redemption, his coming reign, and his final triumph. But running throughout the entire Bible there is an alternate melody, now swelling, now dying, now lyrical with joyous notes in harmony with the main theme. It is the song of God’s people, without which the main theme would stand unadorned. This song is the song of the redeemed, about which the Prophet Isaiah says (30:29), “You shall have a song as in the night when a holy feast is kept; and gladness of heart, as when one sets out to the sound of a flute to go to the mountain of the Lord, to the Rock of Israel.”

T. Leo Brannon is pastor of the First Methodist Church of Samson, Alabama. He received the B.S. degree from Troy State College and the B.D. from Emory University.

Readers will find stapled into this issue a removable bonus booklet introducing our new quarterly series on “Fundamentals of the Faith.” These 9,000-word essays will expound the great Christian doctrines.

Since no man in our times has proclaimed the need of the new birth to more persons than has Billy Graham, it is highly appropriate that the evangelist contribute the essay on this theme.

The series was first scheduled to begin in December, with Professor Gordon H. Clark’s essay on “Revealed Religion” (still scheduled at year-end). But Dr. Graham prepared his essay on the new birth also for his book World Aflame. The material therefore appears in this issue of CHRISTIANITY TODAY concurrently with Doubleday’s publication of Graham’s new book.

If one feature distinguished the early Christians, it was not their race, nationality, or sex. Rather, as the church historian Adolf von Harnack once noted, they considered themselves “a third race.” They never escaped the force of Jesus’ words: “Ye must be born again” (John 3:7). The dire necessity of the new birth remains a central emphasis of evangelical Christianity.