How Freedom of Thought Is Smothered in America: A Pluralistic Society Demands that Christian Values Be Heard. Instead They Are Being Blotted Out

Each year, the American Civil Liberties Union “sues Christmas.” It is not Christmas itself they find so offensive—or, as they argue, “unconstitutional”—just its public recognition. Christmas carols or manger scenes in public schools or on city property, they say, would violate “the separation of church and state.” It is the same with Christian student groups on public school campuses, “moments of silence” at the start of the school day, tuition tax credits, and countless other recent (and rather modest) efforts to accommodate the religious dimension of humankind.

An increasing number of Christians are able to rebut the ahistorical arguments of the “strict separationists”—but many still cannot. For them the mere mention of “pluralism” or “imposing our values” or “the separation of church and state” is enough to end any discussion on a whole range of subjects. What we must ultimately ask is, What is the source of values, religious or otherwise, in contemporary American life? Whose beliefs and values should be reflected in the law and public policy of our pluralistic society? Must their roots be wholly secular, or, indeed, can they be? The outcome of the debates on these issues has very practical implications for the kind of society we will become as we move into our third century as a nation.

America’S Public Religious Heritage

The view of those who advocate the “strict separation” of religious values from our public life and institutions have history against them. One would almost dare to call such a view “un-American” if the term were not so pejorative.

The Founding Fathers’ Intent

The Declaration of Independence proclaims it “self evident” that we “are endowed by [our] Creator with certain unalienable Rights,” appealing to “the Supreme Judge of the world,” and executed by its own testimony “with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence.…” In a similar vein, the First Congress, the same Congress that drafted, debated, and proposed the First Amendment, not only initiated the practice of retaining legislative chaplains to offer public prayers, but the day after proposing the First Amendment called upon President Washington to proclaim “a day of public thanksgiving and prayer, to be observed by acknowledging, with grateful hearts, the many favors of Almighty God.”

Did the authors of the First Amendment violate their own standard of “separation of church and state”? One would certainly think so after reading many recent court opinions and much of the prominent mass media coverage. Those media seem to fear religious contact with public institutions only slightly less than the bubonic plague. This understanding of the Constitution was almost nonexistent for the first 150 years of our constitutional history. The fact is that it is antireligious prejudice, not any limitation of our Constitution, that animates much of the contemporary understanding of the relationship of church and state. In other words, as the American Bar Association editorialized against the Supreme Court’s 1948 McCollum decision, modern secularists continue to mistake “freedom of religion” for “freedom from religion.” Groups like the American Civil Liberties Union exacerbate the problem, breathing down the necks of school and other public officials across the country. They threaten to sue any time a prayer is offered at a public event, or any time school children are offered a glimpse of the Judeo-Christian alternative to the ethical relativism that has so captivated educational philosophy in recent years.

American Government Acknowledges God

Many instances of public religious expression could be cited in support of the proposition that our Constitution permits a healthy interaction between religion and public institutions, not a rigid separation. Our coins have borne “In God We Trust” since 1865, and this was made our national motto by act of Congress in 1956. As recently as 1952, none other than the iconoclastic Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas wrote in Zorach v. Clauson that “we are a religious people whose institutions presuppose a Supreme Being.” Indeed we are, and indeed they do—but something far different is in the air today.

Numerous other examples of public religious expression might be mentioned. The religious proclamations, prayers, and acts of our former Presidents provide a rich and interesting study. Since the days of Chief Justice John Marshall, the Supreme Court has opened each day’s business with the words “God save the United States and this Honorable Court.” Both the Senate and the House of Representatives continue to employ chaplains to open their daily sessions with prayer, and chaplains of many faiths serve all branches of our military. In 1952, Congress directed the President to proclaim a National Day of Prayer, most recently observed with considerable exuberance and faithfulness on May 5, 1983. In 1954, Congress added the words “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance, which, according to a House of Representatives Report, was intended to “recognize the guidance of God in our national affairs.” God is praised and declared trustworthy in our national anthem and is acknowledged in many other songs that might be called national songs. One prominent example is the fourth stanza of “America,” which is a prayer:

Our fathers’ God, to Thee,

Author of liberty,

To Thee we sing:

Long may our land be bright

With freedom’s holy light;

Protect us by Thy might,

Great God, our King!

Can our undisputed public religious heritage, as symbolized by our national motto itself—In God We Trust—and those public religious practices that have been held “unconstitutional” in recent years, be legally or philosophically reconciled? No less an authority than Solicitor General Erwin Griswold did not think so while still dean of Harvard Law School. Following the school prayer and Bible-reading decisions of 1962 and 1963, Dean Griswold sharply criticized the Supreme Court for its transformation of the American tradition of “religious toleration” into one of “religious sterility.”

The difference is a terribly important one; the former is characterized by benevolence toward religion and religious values while the latter is actively hostile, seeking to limit or even eliminate any religious influence on our law and public policy. The former is required by our pluralism, indeed, by our Constitution; the latter is an innovation, a graft upon the constitutional tree urged by those whose primary aim appears to be the complete secularization of our public life and institutions.

Pluralism Or Secularism?

There is a “values crisis” in late twentieth-century American society; unfortunately, we can no longer assume a consensus on basic beliefs and values, at least not among public policy makers, even as the need for such a consensus increases with every passing day. Whose beliefs and values—whose world view—should be reflected in the law and public policy of our pluralistic society?

The intelligentsia, the federal courts, and much of the major communications media assume that the source of our public values must be wholly secular, that this is required by “pluralism” and “values neutrality.” Let’s look at two situations in which these fundamentally different perspectives became public policy. We will see whose values are neutral.

Schools As Social Laboratories

The Judeo-Christian teaching unequivocally supports our right (and duty) as parents to guide the moral, religious, and character development of our children. Enter the secular social engineers with no commitment to the sacred character of the family, who seek to advance their world view through the public schools, and, as we say in the law, the issue is clearly drawn.

Even to one accustomed to confronting the many faces of secularism, the audacity of certain public school philosophies is simply breathtaking. Hear, for example, the role of teachers in our public schools, as described in the National Education Association’s report entitled “Education for the 70’s”:

“[S]chools will become clinics,” the report cheerfully predicted, “whose purpose is to provide individualized psycho-social treatment for the student, and teachers will become psycho-social therapists.”

There you have “values neutrality,” secular style.

The great irony, of course, is that those in the vanguard of such an educational philosophy are the very ones who cry the loudest about how Christians and others holding traditional views want to “impose their beliefs.” To the contrary, let the obvious be unequivocally stated: “Values neutrality” is not some kind of moral high ground occupied only by those advocating wholly secular solutions to difficult social and political problems.

“Progressive” Education?

If one is troubled by the thought of public school teachers serving as “psycho-social therapists” to our children, the concern is multiplied a hundredfold when the “progressive” curriculum is examined.

“Progressive” sex education, for instance, is a particularly egregious example of libertine ideology masquerading as “values neutrality.” In The Great Orgasm Robbery, a Planned Parenthood publication, for example, we—and our teenage children who receive it in the public schools—are counselled: “Sex is fun, and joyful … and it comes in all types and styles, all of which are OK. Do what gives pleasure and enjoy what gives pleasure and ask for what gives pleasure. Don’t rob yourself of joy by focusing on old-fashioned ideas about what’s ‘normal’ or ‘nice.’ Just communicate and enjoy.”

As Prof. Jacqueline Kasun has written in her provocative study of sex education, “It may come as a surprise to … parents … that the contemporary sex-education movement does not focus on the biological aspects of sex.…” Rather than biology, these courses present what might be called a “genital-centered world view,” frequently making Freud look mild in comparison. The Burt and Meeks model sex education curriculum, for example, begins with “a mixed bathroom tour in the first grade” and proposes that sex education be mandatory through at least two years of high school. In each grade, students are to keep an elaborately organized “notebook on human sexuality,” to include information on such enlightening subjects as “the differences between human sexuality and the sexuality of lower animals,” and “pages of details regarding the male and female genital response during sex.” The latter are distributed by the National Sex Forum, an organization that pursues its mission to undermine traditional moral values with religious zeal.

Consider several of the recommended items for classroom discussion and activities. In one lesson plan, high school students, working in boy-girl pairs on “physiology definition sheets,” are asked to define terms such as “foreplay,” “erection,” and “ejaculation.” In another, small coed groups are to be employed to list all of the slang words in our rich American vocabulary for penis, vagina, homosexual, and intercourse. Elsewhere, recommended topics for classroom discussion include, in all seriousness, how students “feel” about drawing pictures of sex organs, and whether they are satisfied with the size of their own.

For those recalcitrant youngsters who, in spite of all the aforementioned publicly funded assistance to the contrary, nevertheless have problems getting their adolescent juices flowing (always “responsibly,” of course), there is yet hope in the prescribed segment of the sex ed curriculum on masturbation, which, in Dr. Kasun’s home town of Arcata, California, includes a “pre-test” and a “posttest” on the subject. The goals for the seventh- and eighth-grade curriculum in Arcata specify, for example, that “ ‘the student will develop an understanding of masturbation,’ will view films of masturbation, [and] will ‘learn the four philosophies of masturbation.…’ ” (For the educationally underpriviledged, the four philosophies of masturbation, to be taught “by participating in a class debate,” are identified as “traditional, religious, neutral, and radical.”)

The Ethics Of “Anything Goes”

The most basic principle underlying these activities, courses, and discussion manuals—and they will be around in one form or another for the forseeable future—is that there is no right or wrong: there are no moral absolutes. The only rule appears to be that you must be “open minded” and therefore not “push your beliefs” on others. Traditional views of sexual and family relationships, views that continue to be held by a great majority of the public according to recent polls and surveys, are portrayed as outdated and really rather silly.

In place of traditional values, the progressive curriculum offers the model Planned Parenthood teenager an active and “responsible” sex life, made responsible through the use of the contraceptives that groups such as Planned Parenthood so generously supply to our children. Abortion is typically regarded and described as a back-up birth control technique, and—this is all so very sad—our children are shown where to go if they need or want one. The fact that we as parents need not be asked, or in many jurisdictions even told, about their decision is made very clear to the students, our children. (Recently two federal judges struck down a government regulation requiring that parents be notified—not asked, notified—within ten days after their minor daughters were given prescription contraceptives or devices [IUDS or diaphragms]. The regulation had been pejoratively labeled “the Squeal Rule” by the press.)

Judging The Value Of Life

A second issue, or rather category of issues, that likewise illustrates the values conflict in contemporary American society, is that of “bioethics.” For the uninitiated, bioethics is an interdisciplinary branch of ethics in which doctors, philosophers, lawyers, and theologians collaborate to resolve ethical, including moral, questions raised in modern health care. Ultimately the questions boil down to timeless ones: What is the nature and value of human life? How are we to understand and respond to human suffering and imperfection? Where there are differences of opinion—on abortion, or the extension of routine medical care to handicapped newborns (e.g., Baby Doe)—who decides? What about euthanasia, genetic engineering, and “test tube babies”? How should society handle more recent developments, such as “sperm banks,” mothers willing to “rent a womb” for nine months, or court-approved lawsuits claiming “wrongful life” and “wrongful birth”?

At the essence of the heated public debate of these and other bioethical issues is the question raised earlier: What world view—none being neutral in any meaningful sense—will be at the foundation of our public policy in this sensitive area? Historically, the answer has been found in the Judeo-Christian tradition. At its center is a view of God as the sole giver and taker of innocent human life as well as author of a specific moral order. With regard to the prohibition of the taking of innocent human life, our view has been termed the “sanctity of life ethic.”

It is a view, or an ethic, that harmonizes with statements made by President Reagan, who, in a recent article in the Human Life Review, reminds us that the heart of the abortion issue is nothing less than a profound value judgment. Said Reagan:

“The real question today is not when human life begins, but, What is the value of human life? The abortionist who reassembles the arms and legs of a tiny baby to make sure all its parts have been torn from its mother’s body can hardly doubt whether it is a human being. The real question … is whether that tiny human life has a God-given right to be protected by the law.…”

The Rise Of Infanticide

Recently, however, we have been urged by certain powerful voices to reject this sanctity-of-life ethic, with its inhibiting ties to Judeo-Christian morality, and accept in its stead a so-called quality-of-life ethic.

The quality-of-life ethic we are urged to accept is well illustrated by the Baby Doe case, which began with the birth of an anonymous baby in Bloomington, Indiana, about a year ago. The baby, who had Down’s syndrome (a condition that causes mental retardation of varying degrees), was denied a routine medical procedure necessary to enable the infant to eat and drink. Baby Doe died eight agonizing days later, a victim of the crudest form of child abuse: starvation.

The reason given for the medical inaction leading to Baby Doe’s death, which had the blessing of the doctor, the parents, and the Indiana Supreme Court, can be reduced to the view that the quality of life of a Down’s syndrome person is not worth living or legally protecting. Perhaps needless to say, the implications of allowing doctors, parents, and courts to make such decisions, formerly reserved to God alone, are indeed ominous.

The Baby Doe incident is not just an isolated case. As Surgeon General C. Everett Koop has tirelessly pointed out, this practice of “infanticide” is increasingly justified by medical ethicists and practitioners—a situation that would have been unthinkable even 15 years ago. A recent investigative report conducted by a CBS television station in Boston looked at the practice of infanticide in cities in over 30 states, for example, and found “evidence of over 100 … cases of withholding or withdrawing medical treatment [from handicapped newborns], including in some cases, food and water.”

As in a number of trends, at least a part of the infanticide problem is traceable to the courts. Recently, a federal judge in Washington, D.C., struck down a government effort to stop infanticide. Although the judge based his holding on narrower procedural grounds, he quite gratuitously suggested in his written opinion that the “right of privacy” might well make the decision of parents and doctors not to treat or feed a handicapped newborn a constitutional right. Some readers may recognize the judicially constructed “right of privacy” as the selfsame constitutional source of authority for the right of abortion, as first held by the Supreme Court in Roe v. Wade and Doe v. Bolton in 1973.

The Supreme Court And “Gut Reactions”

Increasing attention has been focused on the role of the Supreme Court as an arbiter of fundamental societal values, particularly since Roe v. Wade, the 1973 abortion decision. In the process, as Joseph Sobran has written, “[T]he court’s pretensions to be a panel of experts who merely ‘interpret’ the law with scrupulous objectivity have suffered.…” Sobran cites Woodward and Armstrong’s The Brethren, in which unseemly political infighting among the justices is chronicled and detailed, and Justice William O. Douglas’s posthumous memoirs, in which Douglas “cheerfully confesses that he … decided the Constitution’s meaning on the basis of his own ‘gut reactions’.” Sobran cites Prof. Raoul Berger, who until 1976 was the Charles Warren Senior Fellow in American Legal History at Harvard: “The people reluctantly accept [the Court’s rulings] because they are told that the Constitution requires it. Would they bow to judicial governance if they understood it merely represents the ‘gut’ reactions of the Justices?”

Freed from a Judeo-Christian foundation, it is difficult to predict how far the courts will go in their efforts to fashion the brave new world. Already we are experiencing the deaths of over 1.2 million unborn children each year as a direct cost of the more “enlightened” judicial philosophy.

Abortion And Brutal Truth

Make no mistake, we are talking about killing—killing that proceeds in the United States at the rate of over 4,000 unborn children a day. And killing that is cold, calculated, and often brutal, as is made so painfully clear in Magda Denes’s In Necessity and Sorrow: Life and Death in an Abortion Hospital. The author, a clinical psychoanalyst who herself had an abortion in the hospital to which she returned for her study, believes that those who perform abortions can better “deal with” their experiences psychologically and emotionally if all the messy details and feelings are brought out into the full light of day. It is to be hoped that her candid and graphic revelations would have the opposite effect, sweeping away the clichés and the rhetoric, and forcing the reader to face the hard reality of precisely what an abortion is.

A physician who performs saline abortions, for example, describes to Dr. Denes what happens when the salt is injected:

“All of a sudden one notice[s] that at the time of the saline infusion there [is] a lot of activity in the uterus. That’s not fluid currents. That’s obviously the fetus being distressed by swallowing the concentrated salt solution and kicking violently … the death trauma.”

Another physician who performs saline abortions at the hospital, apparently responding positively to Denes’s tell-it-all therapy, mentions “another little thing that I’ve never read about or mentioned to anyone else. But on a number of occasions,” the physician continues, “with the needle, I have harpooned the fetus. I can feel the fetus move at the end of the needle just like you have a fish hooked on the line.” This distresses the doctor, for whom rhetoric about pluralism, neutrality, or freedom of choice—or even the huge profits his specialty generates—is no comfort at the moment. “This gives me an unpleasant, unhappy feeling,” confesses the doctor, “because I know that the fetus is alive and responding to the needle stab.… You know there is something alive in there that you are killing.”

To write about surgical abortions, Denes went to the operating room to observe firsthand. (Holtzman is the doctor and Smith his assistant.)

“ ‘Forceps please.’ Mr. Smith slaps into his hand what look like oversized ice-cube tongs. Holtzman pushes it into the vagina and tugs. He pulls out something, which he slaps on the instrument table. ‘There,’ he says. ‘A leg. You can always tell fetal size best by the extremities; 15 weeks is right in this case.’

“I turn to Mr. Smith. ‘What did he say?’ ‘He pulled a leg off,’ Mr. Smith says. ‘Right here.’ He points to the instrument table, where there is a perfectly formed, slightly bent leg, about three inches long. It consists of a ripped thigh, a knee, a lower leg, a foot, and five toes. I start to shake badly, but otherwise I feel nothing. Total shock is passionless.

“ ‘I have the rib cage now,’ Holtzman says, as he slams down another piece of the fetus. ‘That’s one thing you don’t want to leave behind.…’ Raising his voice and looking at the nurse, who stands next to Dr. Berkowits, he says, ‘The table is a little bit too high. I am struggling.’ The nurse jumps to crank it lower. ‘That’s better,’ Holtzman says. ‘There, I’ve got the head out now.…’

“I look at the instrument table where next to the leg, and next to a mess he calls the rib cage … there lies a head. It is the smallest human head I have ever seen, but it is unmistakably part of a person.”

Sometimes in the day-to-day life of the abortion hospital, what has been referred to as “the dreaded complication” occurs, that is, the baby that the mother and her doctor have attempted to kill is born alive. A 22-year-old hospital “counselor” related one such account to Denes:

“The only time I thought about abortions in terms of religion was when I saw fetuses and one was born alive [sic]. I saw one of them, in fact, I even felt the heartbeat. I touched it. It looked like a baby, but it was very tiny. It was real cute. Very quiet. In fact, it was starting to die.”

Also on the subject of live births following an attempted abortion, Denes had this exchange with a 27-year-old hospital social worker.

Social Worker: “There was one week when there were two live births in the same week. And just, you know, there’s this baby crying on this floor while all these women are in the process of trying to deal with their feelings about aborting their babies.…”

Dr. Denes: “How did the mothers react who gave birth to live babies?”

Social Worker: “Well, this one, she didn’t talk much. The mother delivered when there was no one there and there was some period when the mother was holding the baby. And it was grabbing on to her.”

But back to the judiciary. Recent court recognition of “wrongful birth” and “wrongful life” lawsuits suggests that the radical social engineers among us might not be satisfied until abortion is not only a right but a duty. In one case a court actually recognized as legitimate a lawsuit brought by a third party against a mother in behalf of her handicapped newborn alleging that the mother had violated a legal duty to abort—this is the “wrongful life” theory. In any event, what is absolutely clear is that it is not a question of whether beliefs or values are being, and will be, imposed regarding these life-and-death issues, but whose beliefs and values will prevail in this essentially spiritual battle over our law and public policy.

Conclusion

At the risk of oversimplification, I have suggsted that there are two basic philosophies competing for the heart and soul of our law and public policy. Both have value-laden goals and assumptions; neither is neutral. On the one hand are those—including, but not limited to, Christians—who believe in God and accept as a given the moral order in which he has ordained that we live. We do not so much make the law in these controversial areas, we would argue, as we discover it. On the other hand are the high priests of secularism, true children of the Enlightenment, who long for a new order free of the artificial restraints of religion and morality, where man’s reason and individualism are the highest source of wisdom and value. The latter, I have argued here, often mistake pluralism, which is a fact of American life, for secularism, which they incorrectly believe to have the imprimatur of our Constitution.

Do me a favor: The next time you hear someone say that “pluralism” or “the separation of church and state” requires the exclusion of traditional Judeo-Christian beliefs or ethics from our public life, tell them you know better. “We are a religious people whose institutions presuppose a Supreme Being” wrote Justice Douglas. From the Pilgrims aboard the Mayflower to the Declaration of Independence to the most recent National Day of Prayer, radical secularism has not been the American way. Those who push secularism under the veneer of “values neutrality” are engaging in political advocacy, to which we must have the wisdom and courage to respond with equal conviction and sophistication.

Ultimately, whose beliefs and values—whose world view—will be reflected in the law and public policy of the 1980s, the 1990s, and beyond? What will the children who attend public schools be taught about themselves and their world? How will we decide who lives and who dies in the face of rationally plausible but morally contemptible arguments about “limited resources” and “quality of life”? How free will we be as believers to worship, to raise our children in the faith, and to preach the gospel?

The answers to these questions are truly open. The world we bequeath to our children and grandchildren largely depends on how they are resolved, and that in turn depends on what you and I do. We cannot just assume that “everything will work out.” We must pray, become informed, and then get involved at every level of public life. This is the only way the salt and light that we Christians are told in Scripture we are can have their intended preservative and illuminating effect.

Tim Stafford is a free-lance writer living in Santa Rosa, California. He is a distinguished contributor to several magazines. His latest book is Do You Sometimes Feel Like a Nobody? (Zondervan, 1980).

Ideas

The Good News the Resurrection Brings

When I die, I shall rot,” Bertrand Russell declared. With dreadful honesty the famed British philosopher was drawing the logical conclusion of his own materialistic philosophy of life. Two thousand years earlier, the apostle Paul drew the same inevitable conclusion from an identical premise: “without hope,” because “without God” (Eph. 2:12).

The most important question a person can ask is not, “Is there life after death?” but “Is there a God?” And a further question closely follows: “Am I accountable to Him?”

Without life after death, all of Christian faith would lose its significance. Clarence Macartney, brilliant Presbyterian preacher of a generation ago, wrote:

“In certain respects the great article of the Apostles’ Creed is the last: ‘I believe in … the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.’ Without that article, the other great affirmations have no meaning. Suppose one were to say, ‘I believe in God the Father,’ but not in life everlasting; or ‘I believe in the Holy Ghost,’ but not in the life everlasting; or, ‘I believe in … the holy Catholic church, the communion of saints,’ but not in the life everlasting. All those affirmations would be meaningless without the great chord struck in the final sentence of the Creed.” He then notes that without that affirmation the creed would be like a great cathedral wrapped in the gloom of night. But with it, “the Creed is like a great cathedral illuminated by the sun and showing all the glory of the architect, sculptor, and painter.”

Strangely, the Bible tells us little about heaven or the nature of life after death. Much is stated in only negative terms—no tears, no pain, no sorrow, no sighing. Life after death will be very unlike our present life on earth. Yet for some of us, perhaps, eternal life would seem less attractive if God were to tell us a great deal about its nature. We are attracted by the more sensuous joys we find so desirable here on earth. They are the best our minds can grasp (see Rev. 4:3, for instance). And God condescends to use them to comfort us and woo us to the unimaginable delights that are now beyond our power to appreciate or comprehend.

Like Christ

The Bible’s central teaching on everlasting life focuses on four great truths. First, we shall be like Christ. That is God’s goal for each of us. We shall be good—like Christ.

In a recent poll, Americans were asked what they wanted most in life. The largest number wanted good health; next in order was a secure job. These are worthy goals. If we are honest, most of us will readily admit we should greatly like both. But if they are our highest goals, we are headed for disaster. Not everyone in this life will find either good health or a secure job. And with such goals we will be setting ourselves against God, since his ultimate goal for us is that we might be good like Christ.

With Christ

Second, the Bible says everlasting life is with Christ and with God in his eternal kingdom. Though we know little about the furniture of heaven, we know it will be a perfect society of good people. Above all, it will be unending life with the One who is ultimately the source of all good.

What new and exciting tasks shall we be set to by God’s infinitely creative mind? We have no way of conjecturing. We need not fear boredom, however—unless goodness itself is boring to us. Our own tiny corner of the universe with its inconceivable variety offers only a fascinating down payment on the infinite possibilities of the future. The wildest dreams of far-out science fiction cannot begin to hint at what the infinite creativity of the omnipotent, omniscient mind has in store for us.

Integrity Of Body And Soul

Third, the Bible focuses on the integrity of our being. Everlasting life in the plan of God reveals his concern for the whole of each person’s humanity—body and soul. In Scripture, therefore, the resurrection of the body marks our entrance into the eternal mode of existence.

We humans are neither matter nor spirit, but an essential unity of both. Death breaks that. True, the Bible speaks of an existence beyond the grave as the Spirit returns to its Creator (Eccl. 12:7), and we, though “absent from the body,” are “present with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8). But Scripture qualifies this interim as an “unclothed” existence awaiting consummation at the grand day of resurrection. We humans can fulfill our destiny only as we are once again brought into wholeness by resurrection from the dead.

No doubt the idea of bodily resurrection brings as many problems to our minds as does human existence without a body. A famous atheist of a century ago, Robert Ingersoll, specially criticized the Christian doctrine that all bodies will one day be raised from the dead. With what body would they possibly be raised? He tried to disprove the doctrine by telling of a man who was buried in a churchyard beside an apple orchard. Later that year, an apple from a tree bordering the cemetery fell near his grave, and a seed sprouted and grew, sending roots into the grave. Eventually the tree bore apples, which the orchard’s owner sold to nearby villagers.

“Now,” Ingersoll asked, “whose body will be raised at the last day?” The chemical elements of the buried man’s body entered through the roots of the tree into the apples, and ultimately became part of the bodies of a variety of villagers. Are we all going to be rather like Siamese twins in heaven?

Anticipating Ingersoll, ancient skeptics in Corinth had likewise raised similar objections, asking the apostle Paul, “With what kind of body will they [the resurrected believers] come?” (1 Cor. 15:35). Paul pointed out that we are aware of varied kinds of physical bodies. By his omnipotent power God will make us a body—a physical body of a kind exactly suited to us and to our new kind of existence in heaven. By his creative power God is not limited to any specific atoms—certainly not to those exact atoms in our body at the time of our death. He can create a new body from chemical elements of his choice, ones exactly suited to our needs, and to our spirit with which it will be rejoined in perfect unity (see 1 Cor. 15:35–44).

This is really not so difficult to understand. Scientists tell us that the human body is constantly wearing away and simultaneously reproducing itself. The chemical elements in any part of our body are not the same as those of a few years ago. But except for the enamel of our teeth and the hardest parts of our large bones, the actual atoms that make up our body now are different from those in our body four or five years ago. And the substance of the soft parts is completely exchanged every few months. Yet we know that our body is the identical one we had last year.

Perhaps the same thing will be true of our resurrection body. The same molecules will not compose it then. We do not know the chemical composition of that body, but we know it will be a body, not just a disembodied spirit. And in spite of changes, it will be just as much our body as our body today is the one we had a year ago. It will be our body because it will be perfectly suited to us and to our spirit. It will complete us by making us that unified whole of body and spirit God intended from the first.

Separation

The fourth scriptural focus regarding everlasting life is most disquieting. Awful as it seems, heaven is not for everyone: our heavenly Father makes it ready for those who are prepared to live in it. Painful as this is to contemplate, it is nevertheless difficult to see how in a moral universe things could be otherwise.

Character is formed and solidified in this life. By faith in Christ, so Scripture teaches, we are forgiven our sins and enter into life with God. Judicially, God receives us from the day we believe as being all we ought to be, since we possess the righteousness of Christ. The Bible calls this justification by faith. But this is only the first step in a process that prepares us for everlasting life in God’s good kingdom. Bit by bit, our heavenly Father transforms our inward self into perfect Christlikeness. To do this he uses the process of life and death, climaxed when we are ushered into his immediate presence. Without this transformation, we would not be fitted to live with God in his good kingdom. We would not even enjoy it!

We are not puppets moved by divine caprice, but humans whose character is formed more and more surely through the experiences of life. Some choose evil, and their character is formed and solidified in evil. They unfit themselves for God and his holy kingdom. Only by destroying their personal integrity, trifling with their wills, and ignoring their moral character built over a lifetime could God transform them into beings suited to his perfect society. For reasons we do not fully understand (see Rom. 9:22), God allows them to forge their own evil destiny.

But for those God is preparing to dwell with him forever in his kingdom of the good, the old familiar words of the confession become a shout of triumph: “I believe in the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.”

KENNETH S. KANTZER

Eutychus and His Kin: April 6, 1984

Rabbit Fever

Some people are allergic to penicillin, some to sunlight, some to aspirin; but I’m allergic to bunnies. I discovered this about 20 years ago. I had gone to an allergist near Easter and was having a series of patch tests. The doctor inserted a succession of cultures under my skin, but nothing really bothered me until he inserted the rabbit juice. Where he injected the bunny serum the flesh became inflamed, and there rose a pustule as big as an egg.

“I don’t understand it, but it looks as though you’re allergic to rabbits,” said the allergist.

“Rabbits?” I said, becoming nervous. Deep in my heart I knew it was a psychosomatic allergy: a curious madness often came over me, and it happened nearly every Easter. I went to a children’s Easter egg hunt once just to step on eggs before the children found them. When my own children were little I used to look for weak seams in their stuffed bunnies just so I could pull out the stuffing and smile as the rabbit went flat. I was clearly a sick man.

“What do you think causes this?” I asked the doctor.

“Was your mother frightened by a huge rabbit before you were born?”

I knew that wasn’t it. The doctor was only an allergist, not a psychiatrist, but I thought I would try to explain to him how I really felt about rabbits at Easter. I knew it was dangerous to abuse rabbits in spring, but I had to talk to someone.

“Doctor, it didn’t happen before I was born, it happened after I was born again.”

“I see,” he said backing away.

“Please, Doctor,” I cried, “you’ve got to help. No one understands me! You should never have shot me with the rabbit juice just now. It’s too near Easter. Don’t you see, I’m a Christian—not a good one—but enough that I can’t stand rabbits mixed into spring theology.”

He could see I was becoming inflamed. He grabbed a ruler off his desk and backed away from me in fear. I could feel myself losing control from the small amount of rabbit juice he had inserted.

“Doctor, don’t you see? When those women went to the tomb on Easter morning, they didn’t find it full of rabbits. The tomb was empty, Doctor. The rabbits came later in history. Jesus never owned any rabbits so far as we know, not even as a boy. Don’t you see, rabbits have nothing to do with Easter.” I felt my eyes growing wild, but I couldn’t stop. As in a delirium, I could hear myself preaching now: “Rabbits have nothing to do with the Resurrection! Nothing, nothing, nothing! Doctor, do you hear me? We Christians must stand together against the bunny boom or Mark 16 will be buried three feet under rabbit eggs. Doctor, do you hear me? We must act now, now, now!”

Suddenly I felt a sharp slap on my face. A nurse was cuffing me back to reality. The doctor threw a cup of ice water in my face. And I grew silent.

“What caused it?” I heard the nurse ask.

“He’s allergic to,” the doctor paused, cupped his hand over his mouth, and whispered it, spelling it out so as not to agitate me further. “He’s allergic to r-a-b-b-i-t-s.”

“Well, Doctor, it’s Easter. We always have a few cases of this at this time of year.”

EUTYCHUS

Creation and Evolution

Your responses to Professor Baer’s article, “They Are Teaching Religion in the Public Schools” [Feb. 17] revealed what I have long suspected: Although the proponents of “scientific creationism” may have good intentions, they have little understanding of the nature of modern science.

I was pleased to see Baer’s remark that creationism does not qualify as a science. Scientific creationism is a contradiction in terms because it necessarily invokes a supernatural cause. Therefore it departs from both the philosophical foundations and the methodological principles of natural science. Creation is revealed truth, not scientific truth. To regard creation and evolution as alternative scientific theories of origins is to impugn both the authority of Scripture and the integrity of science. Such a view, therefore, can make no serious claim to be either Christian or scientific.

CHARLES T. GRANT

Minneapolis, Minn.

What Is Worship?

“Let’s Put Worship into the Worship Service” [Feb. 17] was very penetrating, observant, and very charitable. If worship is the “overflow of a grateful heart,” to whom are we grateful, and for what? If we are overwhelmed by God’s goodness, and see amazing grace as God’s love to us through his Son, then, “Hear ye him.”

If we want to play church, so be it. But if we want to worship “in spirit and in truth,” he is the truth. We worship him. Our Sunday worship will be no better than our daily devotion, and it is when “the people” worship that God is pleased. Not one man for many, but many for one man, “the man Christ Jesus.”

M. J. MICHAUX

Colorado Springs, Col.

Sexist Language

No, Jesus did not address his prayers to “[God] my Father [and Mother].” Jesus had a mother. Her name was Mary. The failure of both the Inclusive Language Lectionary and its critics to recognize this rather obvious fact [Editorial, Feb. 3] illustrates to what a shallow depth the Incarnation has penetrated our modern consciousness.

VIRGINIA STEM OWENS

Huntsville, Tex.

I applaud the National Council of Churches in its recent involvement in ridding religion of sexually biased language in publishing An Inclusive Language Lectionary, a nonsexist revision of major parts of the Bible. As many of us see it, it is obvious that sexist language is like racist language in its effects on attitudes and customs.

ROBERT E. CRENSHAW

Laurens, S.C.

ETS and Gundry

I say “kudos” to Robert Gundry [News, Feb. 3]. Besides writing a fine commentary on Matthew, he has thrown grist into the evangelical mill. Inerrancy does not preclude adopting redaction criticism. Inerrancy rightly understood acknowledges the rectitude of Scriptures independent of methodologies (even fundamentalist-evangelical methodologies). In this revealed religion of ours, God is busy revealing. Today’s “unorthodoxy” is so often tomorrow’s orthodoxy. The future is likely to bring many “suspect” books that will anger us and stimulate us to think in fresh patterns.

ALICE BALDWIN

Fraser, Pa.

While many like Dr. Gundry are dearly beloved as fellow believers, and respected by all as learned men in their fields of study, Christian organizations like the Evangelical Theological Society are finding that they must finally draw the line in affirmation of the integrity of God’s Word. As unpleasant and dreaded as this task may be, the rising tide of questionable teaching within evangelical circles must be challenged. While it has been thrilling to witness the growth of Christian schools and television ministries in the past few years, the abundance of flaky teaching in evangelical, charismatic, and fundamentalist circles has been very disheartening.

GEORGE H. MITCHELL

San Francisco, Calif.

I do not claim, as you say I do, that Gundry did not sign the ETS statement “honestly.” I believe he was honest in signing the ETS inerrancy statement. But I (and the vast majority of ETS members) do not believe he was consistent in signing it. There is an important difference.

NORMAN L. GEISLER

Dallas Theological Seminary

Dallas, Tex.

I think you have given a very fair and factual representation of the events and of the closing business session. Unfortunately, in the quotation of my motion, two minor errors seem to have crept in.

I am not “one of five founders of the Evangelical Theological Society.” There are many more than five charter members, and at least 50 were actually present at the Cincinnati meeting of 1949.

The precise wording of my motion was “That the ETS officially request Dr. Robert Gundry to submit his resignation from membership from this society, unless he now acknowledges that he has erred in his detraction from the historical trustworthiness of the Gospel of Matthew in his recent Commentary.

ROGER NICOLE

Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary

South Hamilton, Mass.

Computers—More than Servants?

The interesting article “Living in a World with Thinking Machines” [Feb. 3] assumes the probability that computers may sometime become more than servants to mankind.

If man is eternal, he has an eternal awareness of his existence, his intelligence, his individuality and environment. No amount of sophisticated number-crunching logic can give a machine this God-ordained awareness. On this basis Christians should be able to recognize that while computers will become astonishing tools for mankind, they will never attain the fundamental characteristics of man, God’s creation, because since he is eternal, man is more than an anthropic artisan.

JOSEPH G. S. ROBINSON

Worchester, Mass.

In your story on artificial intelligence, humanism is counted an ally of Christians (“against the influence of mechanistic science”). Fair enough: we can agree that human beings are of unique worth. Then we add our testimony that the Creator whom we know in Christ is of even greater worth.

But why see “mechanistic science” as an enemy? Can’t we also agree with mechanists that human beings are at least mechanisms? Starting there, we witness to what is beyond the reach of science—that we are also images of the living God. How could scientists study humans or any other part of God’s creation without thinking mechanically?

WALTER R. HEARN

American Scientific Affiliation

Berkeley, Calif.

Creative Sermons?

“Dr. Seuss, M.Th., M.Div., Th.D.”: a creative sermon [Jan. 13]? What a novel idea! It reminded me of the little boy in church who leaned over to his dad and asked, “When’s the pastor going to be done?”

“Son,” his father answered, “he was done a long time ago. He just don’t know it yet.”

So in reply to Eutychus, let me say:

I am Pam, Pam-I-am.

Listen up, Preacher Sam.

Learn to speak to someone’s heart,

Learn to reach him from the start.

Let me urge you, Brother Sam,

Be creative, stop the sham.

It would seem you have no choice;

Preach the Word, and they’ll rejoice.

Be encouraged, Reverend Sam,

You can do it, or my name’s not Pam.

PAM DEWITT

Wilmore, Ky.

Biblical Evangelism

I would like to respond to “Do TV Evangelists Build the Local Church?” [Jan. 13]. Dr. Hiller may be an expert in sociology, but he definitely lacks a true biblical understanding of the purpose of evangelism. Biblical evangelism, the responsibility of each born-again Christian, and especially those specifically “called” to evangelism, must necessarily involve the winning of new converts and their subsequent discipleship. The purpose of evangelistic organizations is not to fulfill the role of the local church or to replace it, but to supplement their evangelistic outreach and direct new converts to a place conducive to spiritual growth.

REV. JOHN LANG

Jack Van Impe Ministries

Royal Oak, Mich.

Pastors

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER

Generally we don’t push books in this column, but I am going to set custom aside momentarily and urge you to read In Search of Excellence by Thomas J. Peters and Robert H. Waterman, Jr. (Harper & Row). It is relevant, carefully researched, and well written. It’s been on The New York Times bestseller list since January 16, 1983.

In a nutshell, this book explains why some American corporations-IBM, Procter & Gamble, 3M, Hewlett-Packard, Disney, McDonald’s, etc.-stand head and shoulders above their peers. It lists eight principles the authors found common to these corporations.

Harold Myra and I have been discussing this book, chapter by chapter, with the executive staff of Christianity Today, Inc. Although written about megacompanies that dwarf our nonprofit publishing house, we have learned much that applies. In between sessions, I have found it intriguing to speculate on direct applications for parish ministry.

Last week we discussed chapter 6, on staying “Close to the Customer.” Its forty-four pages of analysis and supporting anecdotes revolve around this premise: Excellent companies define themselves by their ability and capacity to serve the customers.

Who is our “customer” in church ministry?

I’m reminded of a story about Richard Halverson, now chaplain of the U.S. Senate. When he was senior pastor of Fourth Presbyterian Church in Bethesda, Maryland, he made it a practice to minister to people at their place of employment. On one occasion he called the principal of a junior high school and asked if he could lunch with him in his office. The principal obliged and had sandwiches brought in. The two of them talked in an intimate, relaxed way about the difficult task of educating thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds.

After lunch, the principal took Dick on a tour. Together they walked from classroom to classroom, greeting both teachers and students. For two hours Dick immersed himself in the life and ministry of a person who daily faced enormous responsibility.

Finally, they went outdoors and walked the circumference of the school property while Dick prayed for the man, his responsibility, and his place of ministry. As a result, their relationship took on a new dimension.

I think this may be as direct an application of what it means to “stay close to the customer” as I can imagine.

Sometimes daily demands keep us from the “customer.” When I was in the pastorate, many days seemed to be nothing but pure administration. The man or woman of God can get so caught up in programs, strategies, and agendas, in presiding, performing, and promoting, that a commitment to individuals becomes hazy. People become a blur of faces, a congregational mass, a list of alphabetized names in a church directory.

Jesus risked the misunderstanding of his closest friends by making an unscheduled “sales call” in Samaria. He risked further misunderstanding by spending the largest part of his three ministry years discipling a small group of “nobodies.” He refused to be distracted from the individual needs and hurts of people by the expectations of the masses.

The people orientation in excellent companies, say Peters and Waterman, extends even to the people within the corporation as well as without. “There is no such thing as a worker at Disney. The employees out front are ‘cast members’ and the personnel department is ‘casting.’ Whenever you are working with the public, you are ‘on stage.’ ” For the seemingly mundane job of taking tickets, four eight-hour days of instruction are required. Cast members learn about Guests-not lower-case ‘c’ customers, but upper-case ‘G’ guests. When one father asked his two teenage Disney employees why it had taken four days to learn ticket taking, they replied, “What happens if someone wants to know where the restrooms are, when the parade starts, what bus to take to get back to the campgrounds? . . . We need to know the answers and where to get the answers quickly. After all, Dad, . . . our job every minute is to help Guests enjoy the party.”

A good company becomes an excellent company when people say, “Each one of us is the company.”

Do church members ever say, “I am the church”? Excellent companies achieve this by immersing goals and strategies into their commitment to people. By immersing, we’re not talking about dipping a frozen custard into a pot of hot chocolate to give an already good thing a coat of something special. Rather, excellent companies are talking about something like copper and tin being melded together to form bronze.

It starts with discipling people. A pastor friend of mine moved to a different church. He quickly found the Sunday school weak and ineffectual. In one stroke, he incorporated both the first and second elements of close-to-the-customer effectiveness.

He began teaching the Sunday lesson to a Wednesday evening class of Sunday teachers. He made the lesson live; he not only taught content but also modeled excellence as he brought the Word of God alive in a fresh, stimulating way. Preparation for Sunday school teaching moved from a late Saturday night obligation to a dynamic Wednesday evening interaction. He also entered the world of his teachers’ personal problems, frustrations, insecurities, and inadequacies. They, in turn, began to enter his world of effective teaching, pastoral ministry, and vision for the church.

We can’t always lunch with a junior high principal or teach Sunday school teachers, but we can remind ourselves that what the excellent companies have learned about customer closeness traces back to the heart of our heavenly Father. As Helmut Thielicke once asked, “For whom, or for what, did Christ really die?” Obviously, not for agendas, plans, and programs, but for people-individual people.

Thielicke’s question may be a good way to evaluate this week’s schedule. It’s been a great help to me.

Paul D. Robbins is executive vice-president of Christianity Today, Inc.

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

The Evangelical Bible Study: Making it Work

It is now clear that large numbers of people have become Christians through peer group discussions of the Bible. And when unchurched participants become serious about the Christian faith, they normally begin attending church-often the church of their group’s initiator.

Whole churches have been built using this method, and the gospel has penetrated neighborhoods and workplaces that likely would not have opened up to other evangelistic strategies.

What are the keys that make these groups succeed, causing the local church to grow? Here are five:

A “safe” invitation

Instead of being asked to “join” a Bible study, people are invited to a home to hear about an idea: a discussion Bible study group for adults who aren’t experts. After dessert and coffee, the host or hostess explains how the group will function, using the method of inductive (investigative) study. A twenty-minute sampler-one incident from the gospel of Mark-gives a taste of what’s ahead. Those interested set a time and place to start studying Mark 1.

The same thing can happen on the job. Any group that meets on neutral territory is less threatening for newcomers than meeting in a church. Lunch-hour groups currently meet every week among business people on Wall Street, research scientists at a pharmaceutical corporation, executives and clerical workers at a chemical firm; there’s also an after-work study among garage mechanics with their Christian employer, and breakfast studies (weekday or Saturday) among small-town tradesmen and professionals. Workers who know one another through their jobs but meet in homes range from lobstermen on an island off the Maine coast to astronauts and their spouses in Houston.

A structure that protects those new to the Bible

An ideal ratio is six to eight people studying the Bible for the first time with only one or two firm Christians. Groups with too many “experts” do not appeal to raw beginners.

A group of six to ten is large enough to stimulate interaction and new ideas but small enough to let everyone speak and respond to the comments of others. If a group is twelve or larger, the discussion tends to split into two or three competing conversations. The moderator has to exert strong control and may be tempted to lecture. The quiet people and those who know the least sit back. Sometimes they stop coming.

But when everyone has a fair chance, each participant is greatly influenced by what he discovers and shares in the group. What he hears himself saying about Jesus’ claims will be remembered long after he forgets what someone else tells him. We recall only 20 percent of what we hear but 70 percent of what we say. That’s why discussion Bible studies are powerful agents of change.

Studying whole books of the Bible

Newcomers to the Bible need to lay a foundation before they can handle studies that skip around. Using selected verses here and there to present the gospel message confuses the person who cannot set them into a meaningful context. They also put the person at risk when approached by a cult using a thematic presentation. If methods are similar, the biblically untaught person has a hard time distinguishing between what is authentic and what is counterfeit.

Those new to Bible study should start with Mark; it’s clear, concise, full of action, and does not require familiarity with the Old Testament. No wonder missionary translators usually begin with Mark.

A well-prepared set of study questions

Groups function best with questions that help them observe, interpret, and apply what they find in the Bible text. The questions should be forthright enough to allow each person to take a turn as moderator, moving the group paragraph by paragraph through a chapter. The material must not assume that everyone understands Christian jargon or can easily comprehend a religious mind-track.

Three operating guidelines

The following ground rules protect a group against misuse of Scripture:

1. Confine the discussion to the chapter being studied. This keeps the newcomers at equal advantage. As the weeks go by, of course, everyone’s scope of knowledge enlarges, and the group is able to refer back to chapters previously studied.

2. Expect everyone to be responsible for pulling the group back from digressions. The moderator’s job is greatly eased if others in the group help say, “We’ve gotten onto a tangent. Let’s get back to the chapter.”

3. Agree that the document (Mark, for example) will be the authority for the discussion. People should not be coerced into believing the Bible, but they can be encouraged to be honest about what it says and to refrain from rewriting it. As a group continues to study week after week, most members come to recognize the Bible as authoritative.

These guidelines keep a group on the path of orthodoxy. It is difficult to promote heresy in a group studying a book of the Bible in context.

Not every church member should attempt an outreach Bible study. A wise pastor will not try to get “the whole church” into this approach to evangelism. Some Christians tend to tell others too much too soon. The discussion approach requires patience and a willingness to let the non-Christian build a framework of Bible knowledge and discover Christ’s claims for himself.

But once this has happened, the person is much more likely to hear and believe a gospel presentation from the pulpit or a Christian friend.

For those the church wants to encourage in this kind of outreach, a preparation series of four or five Wednesday nights or an all-day Saturday workshop may be used. Such a training program should include:

an explanation of inductive study,

instruction in sensitivity to the non-Christian,

practice in introducing the idea of a Bible study to friends and colleagues,

participation in an actual Bible study discussion.

Copies of the study questions for Mark should be available as well. (For a handbook How to Start a Neighborhood Bible Study and study guides, write Neighborhood Bible Studies, Box 222L, Dobbs Ferry, NY 10522.)

At one such workshop, two men were role-playing the initial invitation. Jim later reported, “When Charlie asked me how I’d like to ‘join a group and study the Word of God,’ he lost me. I was suddenly aware that a person who had never studied the Bible would not call it ‘the Word of God.’ It would have been better if he’d simply asked me if I’d like to be in a Bible study for nonexperts. I would have said yes to that.”

Outreach can start in a neighborhood with one or two young mothers from the church inviting women on their block. The daytime group becomes so valuable that they want their husbands to share the experience, and an evening couples’ Bible study begins. Next, business men and women start studies at work.

Those who come to Christ through a discussion Bible study are able to reach out to their friends in the same way. Meanwhile, church members mature spiritually and become more effective leaders in the church. Small-group Bible study is a ministry multiplier.

-Marilyn G. Kunz

Dobbs Ferry, New York

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

PEOPLE IN PRINT

People-Centered Administration

Your Gift of Administration by Ted W. Engstrom, Nelson, $9.95

Reviewed by John A. Huffman, Jr., St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, Newport Beach, California

Some who write about administration have all the theory but not the practice. I read their writing, and I’m impressed; I talk to their associates, and I’m let down.

Ted Engstrom, however, is one who practices what he preaches.

Thirty years ago, as a teenager, I lived across the street from him and watched this large bundle of a man energetically drag his body, chronically pained by a hip injury, through a schedule that wouldn’t stop. He was then president of Youth for Christ International, traveling the world carrying spiritual and financial burdens and administering a huge team of creative mavericks.

Read his books, observe his accomplishments, and you wonder whether he really has time for people. He does. And not just the people who are part of his organization. Thirty years ago, he had time for the kid across the street who had observed phoniness in other Christian leaders.

It wasn’t a lot of time, but it was enough to make an impression. A wave hello, occasionally stopping his car, rolling down the window, and asking a specific question or two about my life affirmed me and convinced me of his authenticity. He not only ran an organization committed to loving the teenagers of the world; he actually loved the teenager across the street and was no small influence in helping me grow in my faith and willingness to serve Jesus Christ in full-time ministry.

In the years since, our paths have crossed a few times, and I’ve continued to watch his work. Now head of World Vision, he knows how to get things done, and he knows how to care for people in the process. And personal relations is a theme echoed throughout the book.

“A cheery ‘good morning’ is not enough,” he writes. “Neither is an infrequent pat on the back. Nor can an administrator forget about employees all year long, then expect to win their confidence during the camaraderie of the annual picnic . . . We must take a genuine interest in them.” It’s this people dimension that makes his book so helpful.

I wouldn’t say Engstrom’s is the best book if you’re looking for exhaustive help in specific administrative areas. In that case, consult his bibliography, which lists the most helpful books and monographs, both secular and religious. You’ll want to round out your library with titles off his list, such as The Effective Executive by Peter Drucker, Megatrends by John Naisbitt, The Time Trap by Alec Mackenzie, and In Search of Excellence by Peters and Waterman

What Engstrom does is provide a helpful primer in administration for those who want an overview.

He integrates biblical teaching about spiritual gifts with management theory. What I found most refreshing was the way he acknowledges that some of us who must administer are not necessarily naturals at it. He distinguishes between “charismatic” administrators, the born leaders, and “official” administrators, those in the hierarchy with authority and a job to do.

“My purpose,” Engstrom writes, “is twofold: to help official leaders develop and strengthen their administrative gifts; to help gifted leaders become more thorough and effective in their official and administrative responsibilities.”

Perhaps you’re a natural administrator with good intuitions that have worked up till now. If so, this book will prepare you for situations you haven’t yet faced.

Others of us, however, have stumbled into our positions. We’ve been promoted, and despite the fact we’ve never had a course in administration, we find ourselves in charge.

This book reassures us that we can learn and provides the practical, creative, and spiritual resources we need to grow in our administrative roles.

A Case for Muscular Pastoral Leadership

Leading Your Church to Growth by C. Peter Wagner, Regal, $6.95

Reviewed by James D. Berkley, pastor, Dixon Community Church, Dixon, California

I have seven Peter Wagner books on my shelf and notebooks bulging with Peter Wagner class notes. What more has Wagner to say?

Much, indeed. As professor of church growth at Fuller Theological Seminary and prot‚g‚ of Donald McGavran, the patriarch and founder of the Church Growth Movement, Wagner serves as the movement’s chief apologist and popularizer.

Church Growth is not without its opponents, nor is Wagner without his detractors. However, few people remain as congenial at the eye of the tempest as he. He refuses to canonize his theory, often recommending to students books by his chief critics. He welcomes criticism, scientific study, revision, but he will also spar ably to make his point.

Wagner’s newest book, Leading Your Church to Growth, presents the latest Church Growth thinking in a palatable, down-to-earth package. He does have something new to say, especially about the role of the pastor.

“Strong pastoral leadership is regularly affirmed as a positive growth factor but an in-depth analysis is yet lacking. My intention is to begin to fill that void,” he writes.

In the past, mainline Protestant churches have given mixed reviews to Wagner’s school of thought. Although lured by the promise of growth and revitalization, they have also turned a cold shoulder to the perceived hype and clamor. In this book, Wagner woos the mainline church, answering many of their complaints.

Take this unexpected Wagnerism: “It is okay not to be a growth pastor in a non-growth situation,” or “These three kinds of churches-small churches which value their single-cell nature, terminally ill churches, and churches in areas of unusual mobility-should not be expected to grow. It is recognized that God can direct them in other avenues and bless them and use them for His glory. If God is so leading them, it’s okay not to grow.”

Answering the charge of a preoccupation with numbers, Wagner writes, “As I see it, those who object to numbers are usually trying to avoid superficiality in Christian commitment. I agree with this. … But I am vitally interested in lost men and women who put their faith in Jesus Christ and are born again. … When numbers represent these kinds of people, they are much more than a ‘numbers game.’ “

He emphasizes the totality of ministry-both the evangelistic and cultural mandates. “Saving souls is the first step, but it is not enough. Concern for the whole person is essential. Loving your neighbor as yourself means becoming involved with people’s health, welfare, and human dignity.”

One of his most controversial principles-the homogeneous unit-also warrants new attention. Wagner states that some “have understood church growth leaders to say that homogeneous churches are the right and true way for churches to grow, when they haven’t been saying this at all. They have simply been describing the observable fact that, worldwide, most unchurched men and women are first attracted to Christ by hearing the gospel from those who talk like them, think like them, and act like them.” Speaking of Donald McGavran, Wagner continues, “His ideal and mine is a church where lines of class, race, and language are completely broken down.” Is this the Wagner egalitarians love to castigate?

Wagner also answers the charge that Church Growth is overly pragmatic. He contends that his pragmatism is not the kind that “compromises doctrine or ethics or the kind that dehumanizes people by using them as means toward an end. It is, however, the kind of consecrated pragmatism which ruthlessly examines traditional methodologies and programs asking the tough questions.”

I appreciate his distillation of Church Growth to the statement: “Church growth is not some magic formula which can produce growth in any church at any time. It is just a collection of common sense ideas that seem to track well with biblical principles which are focused on attempting to fulfill the Great Commission more effectively than ever before.”

Even with all its excellent material refining Church Growth in general, this is not a generalized book. Wagner focuses on the kind of leadership that produces growing congregations.

To begin, he mounts a frontal assault on the idea of the pastor as enabler-one who is out to actualize personalities-an idea whose time, he says, is past. With tongue firmly in cheek, Wagner cracks, “If you asked a pastor with this training what time of day it was, you would get one of two answers: ‘Why do you ask?’ or ‘What time would you like it to be?’ ” Wagner affirms the concept of pastor as equipper, who prepares lay people for ministry, but the enabler is anathema for a growing ministry.

Next Wagner distinguishes between authoritarian and authoritative ministry. He will not condone the authoritarian tyrant, but he does urge pastors to be authoritative.

When I asked him what keeps the one from slipping into the other, Wagner replied, “A leader must earn his role by being a servant among people. Most of us define an autocrat as ‘anybody who leads in a style outside my comfort zone.’ If people perceive the leader to be a servant, then he is not a tyrant.”

He added that it’s wise for strong leaders to temper their own biases and blind spots with a small reference group from the congregation and a peer group of fellow pastors. This precludes the abuse of power while allowing a leader to lead.

Not every ministry suddenly blossoms into growth. Assuming that solid growth comes from lengthy pastorates, he gives definite suggestions for laying the groundwork for growth. Working on morale and building loyalty among parishioners is not wasted time for the growth-minded pastor.

Technical Church Growth jargon arises when Wagner hauls out the modality/sodality nomenclature. A modality is a wide-open organization that anybody can join, like a church or a sandlot baseball game. A sodality concentrates on a given task and makes special requirements for participants, like a mission organization or a championship team.

Wagner’s thesis is that churches would be more effective operating with sodality leadership.

When I pressed him, Wagner conceded that many churches would not take kindly to sodality leadership. (The chapter is titled “Why Bill Bright Is Not Your Pastor”!) He felt that new churches and congregations willing to pay the price for survival are the best prospects for intentional, sodality-type leadership.

Wagner concludes with practical chapters on getting the right start, including calling the right pastor, and on keeping growth on course. He postulates four levels of faith, which go from Robert Schuller’s possibility thinking all the way to “fourth dimension faith,” which “trusts God for supernatural signs and wonders.” About the latter, he lamented that where once he was criticized for being too sociological and not spiritual enough, now he is criticized from the other end for venturing into overly spiritualized things.

Leading Your Church to Growth is well-done Wagner. He ducks, parries, and thrusts, all with a Douglas Fairbanks, Sr., half smile on his face. And he hits home. With a wealth of practical ideas and with a good first stab at proposing a theory of Church Growth leadership, this book is a winner, readable and witty.

I now have eight Peter Wagner books on my shelf. I look forward to coming attractions on signs, wonders, and Church Growth, and on Church Growth in the Gospels and Acts. Wagner definitely has more to say.

What Makes a Church Thrive?

Twelve Keys to an Effective Church by Kennon L. Callahan, Harper and Row, $11.95

Reviewed by Doug Beacham, pastor, Franklin Springs Pentecostal Holiness Church, Franklin Springs, Georgia

This is not just another simplistic how-to book. Kennon Callahan is charting a new direction for ministry.

For nearly twenty-five years, Callahan, until recently minister of finance and administration at Lovers Lane United Methodist Church in Dallas, studied and practiced the content of this book.

Not primarily concerned with church growth, Callahan focuses on “effective” ministry, which he describes with six functional and six relational characteristics.

His six functional keys are (1) several competent programs and activities, (2) accessibility, (3) visibility, (4) adequate parking, land, and landscaping, (5) adequate space and facilities, and (6) solid financial resources.

These chapters help pastors gain a sense of the issues that many lay people focus upon. Callahan doesn’t violate his integrity by removing these bricks-and-wallpaper issues from his underlying theology of the church. Many of us can benefit from increased sensitivity in this area.

But Callahan also makes it clear that the crucial elements in the life of the church are the relational characteristics: (1) specific mission objectives, (2) pastoral and lay visitation, (3) dynamic corporate worship, (4) significant relational groups, (5) strong leadership, and (6) streamlined structure with a solid, participatory decision-making process.

In determining the mission of the church, Callahan cautions against the “data-collection” method-relying too heavily on surveys, community trends, or chamber of commerce projections. Focusing on factors outside the church “tends to enslave local churches to the alleged inevitability of demographic trends of population growth or decline,” he writes.

When I asked him why, he said, “If a church looks at the demographic data and finds it’s in a declining community, and they base their goals accordingly, the church will decline. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Callahan prefers a “diagnostic” method, with churches identifying the strengths within the congregation and basing their mission on those, not the factors outside the church.

The most important question, according to Callahan, is not “How many members do you have?” but “How many people is your church serving?” His focus is upon the work of the Holy Spirit in developing specific missions where lay people can offer concrete help to specific hurts. This “grapevine” approach can be a local congregation’s best means to spread the Good News.

He consciously uses the term mission rather than ministry because “the task of the church is mission . . . the emphasis on the fact that all people in the church are called to labor in the kingdom, not just those ordained.” The most effective way to develop mission, he says, is to “grow it up from within.”

The chapter on strong leadership is noteworthy for two reasons. First, he rejects the “enabler” approach to pastoring-passive and nondirective-which he claims worked during the fifties and sixties because our society was basically churched. Today, however, we’re essentially an unchurched culture and thus in need of pastors willing to be strong though not dictatorial leaders.

Second, he urges the church to reorder its priorities when looking for leadership. Often churches plan their programs, he writes, “as though they had an unlimited reservoir of leaders,” and if those leaders don’t readily step forward, churches make the foolish assumption that leaders would emerge “if only the people in this congregation were more committed.”

Instead of looking for more committed people, suggests Callahan, recognize that leaders are in limited supply. Only a certain number are able to lead. Assess the existing leadership strength and design the church’s mission around that, says Callahan.

When looking for leaders, he suggests, reorder priorities to seek competency first (spiritual gifts, talents, and abilities), compassion second, and then commitment. Seeking more commitment won’t solve anything if the basic problem is a lack of competency or compassion.

Throughout the book, the people of God are invited to view their work from the perspective of the Resurrection with its life and hope. There is an ongoing sense of the Holy Spirit’s presence through people focusing on the gifts of God in their midst.

His emphasis is based on a theology that says, “Hope is stronger than memory.”

Perhaps the fundamental issue can be summed up by his watershed question. “Do you believe your best years are behind you, or do you believe your best years are yet before you?”

Callahan’s book can help a church move forward with confidence.

A Young Pastor’s Intro to A. B. Dick

The First Parish by J. Keith Cook, Westminster, $8.95

Reviewed by Mike Coughlin, pastor, Clough Valley Baptist Church, St. Francis, Kansas

First pastorates are often like the first years of marriage: we realize how little we know only after we’ve committed ourselves.

In an attempt to make the passage a bit easier, J. Keith Cook, senior pastor of the Presbyterian Church of the Master, Omaha, Nebraska, devoted his doctor of ministries project to the subject, and this book, “a pastor’s survival manual,” is the result.

“We know a lot about the Pauline epistles, but very little about church trustees. We know how to handle H. R. Niebuhr, but we don’t know how to handle A. B. Dick,” he writes in the introduction. “This book is meant to help the minister survive for years of fruitful and personally fulfilling service.”

The book’s usefulness applies beyond just the first pastorate.

Cook divides his book into five sections, each dealing with different ministerial functions.

“Getting Ready to Go in the Parish” covers getting church and pastor together, including effective resume writing, but more important, how to find a church that fits you.

“Finding a church that fits your needs, interests, and abilities will make a big difference in whether you will remain in the ministry, as well as in whether your congregation feels served or cynical about ministers and ministry,” he writes. He provides questions to ask during the candidating process and signs to look for, such as “Weeds around the church say, ‘We don’t care’ ” and “Leadership that is much older than the general membership says, ‘We don’t want new ideas . . . don’t rock the boat.’ “

Bad signs may not be all bad, he notes. Perhaps the church simply needs leadership. “Try to sense whether that is true and whether you’re that leader,” he writes.

The second section discusses the role, style, image, and relationships of a pastor.

Cook’s first ministry, two congregations in northeast Nebraska, where he stayed for ten years, provided him the experiences from which to draw.

“I had some painful relationships in my first parish,” he said in an interview. “But I learned unconditional love as well.”

In the book, he gives concrete tips for communicating love to the congregation, even such down-to-earth things as smiling while talking on the phone, and doing business (when possible) in stores where church members work.

The third section, “Getting the Job Done,” focuses on administration, preaching, visitation, counseling, evangelism, and social action. He stresses personal time management as a key to effective ministry.

“One thing common to most success stories is the alarm clock,” he writes.

The fourth section details problems and solutions in handling personal conflicts both within the family and the church.

He encourages spouses to be themselves. Pastors are not called to sacrifice their families on the altar of ministry. When asked how he sets aside time for his own family, Cook says, “I’m not busy more than half a dozen Sunday afternoons and evenings a year.” In addition, he confines evening obligations to two nights a week, a goal he says all pastors can reach if they really want to.

He also deals frankly with how to talk about salary with those responsible for setting it. Since the book was published, he’s already gotten a call from a Methodist pastor in Omaha who said, “Your book has already saved me money.”

Perhaps the book’s most helpful passage, however, is the section on discouragement, ineffectiveness, and loneliness.

“We thought we were called to lead a mighty army of Christian soldiers eager to march . . . but we find we’re chaplains to old warriors long since withdrawn from the front,” he writes. He suggests seeking solace in recognizing God’s call for us and in a few trusted friends who honestly reveal the impact our ministry is having.

The book’s final section, “Getting Out,” discusses when and how to leave a pastorate. The key, says Cook, is being sensitive to what you’ve accomplished in the past and what can be done in the future.

What sets this book apart is Cook’s personal, direct writing style: “I write the way I talk. It shortens the distance.”

Cook readily agrees that this book is but one approach to parish ministry: his own. He also admits not all the ideas will transfer to other situations.

But if we are successful in what Cook calls “the transfer of affection” (communicating the love of Jesus to others), then we’ll not only survive in ministry but thrive.

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

Evangelism Takes Time

A man who liked C. S. Lewis’s Screwtape Letters went on to read Mere Christianity-and was infuriated. He wrote the author a scathing letter.

Lewis’s response, in longhand, shows a master evangelist at work:

“Yes, I’m not surprised that a man who agreed with me in Screwtape . . . might disagree with me when I wrote about religion. We can hardly discuss the whole matter by post, can we? I’ll only make one shot. When people object, as you do, that if Jesus was God as well as man, then he had an unfair advantage which deprives him for them of all value, it seems to me as if a man struggling in the water should refuse a rope thrown to him by another who had one foot on the bank, saying, ‘Oh, but you have an unfair advantage.’ It is because of that advantage that he can help. But all good wishes. We must just differ; in charity I hope. You must not be angry with me for believing, you know; I’m not angry with you.”

What impresses me about that exchange is the light touch. Lewis acknowledges the man’s complaint, he gives him one thing to think about-and he stops. He steps back as if to say, “Your move,” which opens the way for the man to write again.

Journey evangelism

Evangelism, like sanctification, takes time. Therefore, we must take the time it takes.

When we relate to people, we must remind ourselves that we are on a long journey together. The idea that this is my only chance to talk to this person is a great detriment. Even on an airplane, we should speak as if we’re going to know that seatmate for the rest of our lives. After all, to use another line from C. S. Lewis, “Christians never say good-by.”

When we share the gospel, it is part of a larger whole. Let me illustrate with small-group Bible studies, which our church has found to be our most authentic and exciting evangelistic event. What is fascinating is that we don’t try to be evangelistic. Our goal is to let the text make its own point and then enable the group to express their feelings about what is being read together. We consciously try not to cover everything the first week, but only what the text says. Our approach is this: “Read this book like you read anything else. When you start into Mark, don’t give him an inch. Make him win every point. Don’t worry about whether this is supposed to be the holy Word of God or not; just read it with the same seriousness you apply to your own thoughts.”

The amazing thing is that the text inevitably reveals its Living Center. Some weeks Mark (or Paul, or John) wins, some weeks he loses. But over time, the text comes out ahead, and the Christ of the text wins respect.

Too many of us preachers try to say too much all at once. Especially at the end of sermons-we throw in the kitchen sink trying to get somebody to make some sort of decision. We rattle off the most precious facts of our faith-the blood of Christ, the cross, God loves you-and reduce them to hasty, unexplained sentences. It is far better to let the text make its own point.

I’ve found the same tendency in counseling. Somebody comes into my office and begins sharing his life. I listen very closely, trying to listen with my heart as well as my head. My mind is soon flooded with impressions, statements, Bible verses that I can hardly wait to unleash as soon as my turn comes. “Look at this . . . let me tell you this story . . . read this book . . . what you need to do is . . .”

As I’ve grown older, I’ve been asking God in such situations to help me say one or two things-not twenty-three. The poor person is already troubled, highly emotional-what is he supposed to do with a flood of input? He can only nod and say, “Oh, yes, thank you, Pastor,” and before long he’s nodding just to get out of the room.

In evangelism, people do not need admonishments as much as they need to be carefully heard. Once I’m listening, I range through their arguments to find out where I can agree with them. Very often the “God” they’re rejecting I would reject, too. Why not let them know that?

A Christian friend of mine was a high school principal in Los Angeles. One day a father came charging into his office, irate over the F his son had received in a certain course. The man had dreams of his son going to an Ivy League school, and now this teacher was destroying the plan. He wanted the grade changed.

My friend listened to the threats and demands for a while, and finally when there was a pause, he said quietly, “I can see that you care a great deal about your son.”

The man suddenly began to cry. The mask came off. He was strong but aloof, and the only way he knew to do anything for his son was by bullying. When the principal spoke about relationship, the point of deepest hurt was exposed. Now the father was ready to be helped.

My friend knew he wasn’t going to ask the teacher to change the grade. So why be defensive? Instead, he listened with his heart until he got in touch with the man’s underlying journey.

I remember going to a Navigators conference in Colorado Springs during my student days. As part of our training, we were all going to go out and hit the city with a great witnessing blitz; Colorado Springs would never be the same. Jim Rayburn of Young Life had been invited to talk to us, and he said, “Well, I know what you’re headed out to do . . . you’re going to go out there and say to people, ‘Brother, are you saved?’ and you’ve got to say it real fast, because you may never see that person again. . . .” He paused a moment before continuing.

“And you won’t. You won’t.”

Then he shared his philosophy of evangelism, which was to take the time it takes to share the Good News of Jesus Christ with people.

I’m not saying we should not be urgent. But the gospel has its own urgent edge and does its own convicting of sin. Isn’t it good that the Holy Spirit takes care of that as we simply witness to the truth?

A crusty engineering professor in our city was shattered when his wife died of a sudden heart attack just as they reached retirement age. She had been a Christian, and after the funeral, he came to see me. I steered him toward the gospel of Mark and some additional reading. After several weeks, I could see the New Testament was gradually making sense to him. My closing comment in our times together was usually, “Let me know when you’re ready to become a Christian.” (I rarely say, “Are you ready?” Instead, I ask people to let me know when they have enough information to put their weight down on the trustworthiness of Jesus Christ. I believe the most central evangelistic question is “Are you able, on the basis of what you’ve discovered about Jesus Christ, to trust your life to his faithfulness and love?” This draws together repentance from sin and response to his love.)

One Sunday after church, with a lot of people milling around, the engineer stood in the back waiting for me. He’s not the kind of man who likes standing around. Finally he got my attention so he could call out, “Hey, Earl . . . I’m letting you know.” That was it; he became a Christian at age sixty-five.

We have to make room for people to struggle, because the stakes are so big. We should not be too pleased if someone comes to Christ with little struggle-it may mean this is simply a compliant person, and the same compliance that eases them into Christianity may also ease them toward the next thing that calls for their obedience.

The next-to-the-last word

The more sensitive we are to journey evangelism, the more we will recognize pre-evangelistic preparation. So many things in our culture are pre-evangelistic. Whether Robert Frost was a Christian I don’t know, but “Mending Wall” is most definitely a pre-Christian poem. It raises all the right questions. Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and the movie Apocalypse Now both raise huge questions that the gospel speaks to.

Now-as Bonhoeffer said, “You cannot hear the last word until you’ve heard the next-to-the-last word.” The next-to-the-last word is the law; it makes us feel guilty, trapped, judged. Only then are we ready for the Good News.

Evangelists who ignore the person’s journey are missing something important. Or, we make the mistake of listening once-and then freezing people in that state of rebellion. They may have spoken more outrageously than they believe; they may have only been trying to shock us; or they may have moved on from their first rejection of Christ. We must keep hearing the clues and moving along as they move.

G. K. Chesterton writes in Orthodoxy about five steps in his journey as a young man:

“One, I felt in my bones; first that this world does not explain itself. It may be a miracle with a supernatural explanation, it may be a conjuring trick, with a natural explanation. But the explanation of the conjuring trick, if it is to satisfy me, will have to be better than the natural explanation I have heard. The thing is magic, true or false.

“Second, I came to feel as if magic must have a meaning, and meaning must have someone to mean it. …

“Third, I thought this purpose beautiful in its old design, in spite of its defects, such as dragons.

“Fourth, the proper form of thanks to it is some form of humility and restraint. We should thank God for beer and burgundy by not drinking too much of them.

“And last, and strangest of all, there came into my mind a vague and vast impression that in some way all good was a remnant to be stored and held sacred out of some primordial ruin. Man had saved his good as Crusoe had saved his goods. He had saved them from a wreck, and all this I felt, and my age gave me no encouragement to feel it.

“And all this time I had not even thought of Christian theology.”

What a slow but elegant orbit he makes toward the Living Center.

Our part in the mystery

In the Bay Area where I live, I sometimes make jokes at the expense of a small town called Milpitas. Once while speaking on radio, I said, “You know, Beethoven is not on trial when the Milpitas Junior High Orchestra plays the Ninth Symphony. And Jesus Christ is not on trial when you or I or even C. S. Lewis tries to express the faith in a conversation or a sermon.”

Then about a year later it occurred to me: But were it not for the Milpitas Junior High Orchestra-who would hear Beethoven? Even if badly played, it is better than no playing at all. Who plays Beethoven perfectly?

Some people trudge from church to church looking for the perfect rendition. They’ll never find it. W. H. Auden once observed that even though the line is smudged, we can read the line, and that is the mystery of evangelism: even though we smudge the line, it can still be read. You can whistle the tune of the Ninth Symphony even after listening in the Milpitas gymnasium.

Evangelism is far greater than any of us. That is why it takes time. But without us, it would take an eternity. And human beings do not have that long to make up their minds.

-Earl Palmer

First Presbyterian Church

Berkeley, California

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

THE JOHNNY APPLESEEDS OF CHURCH PLANTING

Leadership Forum

Fruitful churches, like fruitful trees, don’t usually spring up on their own. Someone-whether a Johnny (Appleseed) Chapman or a church pioneer-has to sow the seed.

What are the secrets of starting churches? LEADERSHIP brought four experienced church planters together in Minneapolis to talk with editors Dean Merrill and Marshall Shelley. The participants:

-Arthur Fretheim recently retired after planting six Evangelical Covenant churches in Minnesota, New Mexico, and Illinois.

-Victor Fry planted Missouri Synod Lutheran churches in Las Vegas, Nevada, and Maple Grove, Minnesota, before accepting a denominational position, where he has overseen the development of six new congregations.

-Kaye Pattison, who supports himself as a businessman, has planted four Conservative Baptist churches in the Denver area and is currently leading a Bible study he hopes will develop into number five.

-Robert Ross planted two churches-in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Austin, Minnesota-before going to his present congregation, First Church of the Open Bible in Waterloo, Iowa.

Leadership: Does church planting demand a special breed? What kind of person is cut out for pioneering a new church?

Arthur Fretheim: Anyone who intends to plant a church must have three things: (1) vision, the ability to visualize the future church, which will provide a goal to strive for; (2) enthusiasm, because as Paul said, “If the trumpet gives an uncertain sound, who shall prepare for battle?”; (3) perseverance, because there will be many lean days-lonely, small days. You have to remember those are God’s days, too.

Robert Ross: A positive attitude helps, too-being friendly and able to genuinely enjoy your people.

Kaye Pattison: When Jesus told his disciples that the greatest among you would be the least, I think he had church planters in mind. A church planter has to accept the humble, unglamorous role. He won’t be asked to speak to many missionary conferences; he won’t be recognized in denominational meetings. A church planter gets his strokes from doing Christ’s work.

He must be the servant of all-to minister, not to be ministered unto by a congregation. He must be imbued with power, Spirit-filled, able to encourage people to use their gifts of ministry.

Victor Fry: Another essential is that you must have the right spouse and, if there’s a family, supportive family members.

We started our second mission congregation when our children were in sixth grade, second grade, and kindergarten. They were involved delivering fliers and even got the neighborhood kids to help, too. They were caught up in the excitement of starting a new church.

Fretheim: You also need a special kind of laity to make a church go. They have to really want a church, because they’re giving up many privileges. You only raise your family once, and when you put them into a new church, you’re putting them with a limited number of people. Your children won’t make a great number of friends.

We’ve all lost families because they had a teenager, and our church had no other teenagers.

Leadership: Is church planting risky? People who have never done it say, “My goodness, I’d be scared to death.”

Ross: Sure, there’s fear. But that’s where our faith in the Lord comes in. He hasn’t given us a spirit of fear, but of power and a sound mind. You know you may not be totally capable, but God is, and you go on, and the job gets done.

Fry: Church planting isn’t a totally unselfish thing, however. Making calls on people, sharing Christ with them, seeing them folded into the kingdom, seeing a church beginning, and you a tool of the Holy Spirit-there’s no greater joy than that.

In fact, once you’ve tasted that challenge and seen something grow out of nothing, it’s hard to go back and pastor an established church.

Pattison: I can think of nothing more dull than going to an established church and taking care of Aunt Susie’s problems, though I suppose someone has to. I’d much rather be involved in a group of people struggling with more important issues.

Most church planting involves evangelism. Seeing people come to Christ and seeing the growth that results makes it all worthwhile.

Fretheim: I have a high view of visitation, and whenever I go out I pray that I’ll bear the presence of Christ into that home-in a sense “be Christ” in that place. To me, that makes the ministry alive and vital.

Pattison: When you have nothing to offer but Christ, it gets you back to basics. Churches down the street may have stained-glass windows, padded pews, youth pastors, buses-all the reasons people should go to church-and you have none of these. But to see Christ put it together, to realize God is at work-not those great programs-that’s the greatest seminary, the greatest training, the greatest experience anyone in the ministry can have. You learn God can be depended on to build his church.

Leadership: What’s been the reaction of your family when you’ve taken this risk?

Pattison: It’s been a positive experience for us. All of my daughters ended up teaching Sunday school and doing other things they couldn’t have done in a large established church.

They were so involved in ministry that even today, married and with their own families, they’re active in their local congregations. It became part of their blood. I’d love to have them in any congregation I was starting because they’re experienced and well trained.

I’ve even found being a church planter is easier on one’s spouse. It eliminates many of the rigors of being a “pastor’s wife.” If your spouse fears the limelight and always having to have every hair in place, church planting is a more relaxed alternative.

Church planters also have more time for family. If you’re in a church of five hundred, someone’s always calling, and the kids think Daddy loves the congregation more than them. That’s not a problem in the early stages of a church.

Fry: It does create family pressures, though, especially if you’re using your home for meetings and classes. Wives can feel like permanent hostesses.

But at the same time, it’s true-there isn’t that double standard so many churches have for “the pastor’s wife.” She can be much more like anyone else. And the flexible schedule does let you spend some mornings and afternoons with your family.

Leadership: Often the assumption seems to be that church planting is a job for young pastors. They’re hungry, brave (or foolhardy), and have less to lose. Is that true?

Fry: My first assignment out of seminary was to start a church in Las Vegas. There was no nucleus, no building, nothing. I survived, but I really lacked experience and knowledge of church structure and how to do things.

Pattison: Church planting can be devastating for a young man. If he fails in his first charge, it can damage his future ministry.

Fretheim: I agree. If you want to put numbers on it, I’d say church planters should be between thirty-five and forty-five, with ten years of experience.

Why? Because their personal spiritual lives will be severely tested, and they carry the responsibility for people’s immortal souls. In this kind of work, you often face individuals who have theological eccentricities (to put it nicely), and you’ve got to have the maturity to deal with them.

Leadership: If you are young, how can you overcome these obstacles?

Pattison: In our first church, we had a deacon who had been studying the Bible longer than I’d been a Christian. I learned to depend on him in some of the tough situations.

It also helps if you’re under the guidance of an older pastor or a “mother” church.

Leadership: Generally speaking, is the “mothering” strategy better than starting a church on your own?

Fretheim: I’ve done both, and to me the mothering concept is preferable because you have fellowship, which is so important, especially for young pastoral couples.

Second, you have a source of help. New churches don’t usually have adequate teaching staff or musicians, and mother churches can help. They can also help financially.

In addition, the mother church is blessed because often it has been around for fifty or sixty years, and they’re hungry for a new challenge. They’re able to get involved in a grassroots operation.

Pattison: You also get their prayer support.

Fretheim: I’m glad you mentioned that, because there’s nothing more lonely than hoping God will open up a work here and feeling you’re the only one praying. I’m definitely in favor of a mothering, or parenting, church.

Pattison: I’ve also done both, and I agree that a mothering church offers a lot. When a family with teenagers comes into your congregation, you can tell them you tie in with the youth activities in the mother church.

The only disadvantage in a mothering situation is if there are problems in the mother church.

Leadership: Why don’t more established churches do it?

Pattison: I suspect many are so involved in their own ministries they become short-visioned and think, What’s important is what I’m doing. To start a mission church might mean the loss of some people or part of their program.

Is the goal of ministry to build my church, or is it to reach the community for Christ? If we want to reach the community, it’s better to do it with many platoons than one centrally located army.

Leadership: Are there any advantages to pioneering without a mother church?

Fry: There is a spirit of adventure and romance in starting something where no one else has been involved. And there’s a tremendous need for each individual who comes to be involved, which can provide lots of excitement and motivation.

Ross: Being out there by yourself means you can’t pass off the responsibility. There’s no waiting for someone else to do it for you. You have to get the job done.

Fretheim: I suppose it’s possible for a mother church to exercise too much control, and that would be bad. They can support a new operation, but they shouldn’t dictate policies and programs.

Leadership: How strategic is door-to-door prospecting? Do new churches live or die by this? Or are there alternatives?

Ross: You’ve got to get to know people, and the best way is getting into their homes. You’re right where they live.

Fretheim: In a recent book, Lyle Schaller wrote that after twenty-five years of the church growth movement, we have found, in spite of all the new plans, the single best way to build a church is through personal visitation.

So many people are trying to find some other way, but I feel you must ring doorbells for two reasons. First, for your own information. You can’t drive up and down streets and learn much about the community; you have to meet people where they live.

Second, the best way for them to learn about the church is by seeing a face and hearing a voice say, “We’re here to serve in the name of Christ, and God bless you whether you come or not.”

Fry: I’m not sure Lyle Schaller is necessarily referring to door-to-door canvass. Personal visitation is necessary, but door-to-door contacting isn’t always productive.

At one of my churches, I made twenty-three hundred door-to-door calls before we began the ministry. All we gained from those calls was one family. And they didn’t come till two years later.

I think there are better ways of publicizing your ministry, and then you personally follow up those who show an interest.

Pattison: I would concur. Door-to-door visitation is an excellent method, but we never have time to use it. You make better use of your time developing your nucleus. They have better contacts in the community than you’ll ever have. Then, as the church begins to function, you spend your time visiting those who come because of the nucleus.

If you scratch where people are itching, you’ll be surprised how much free PR you get. People will begin to respond to that.

Fry: They have to see you in action in their community. Of course, you need to know the needs of the community, and door-to-door is one way to find out what those needs are.

Pattison: That’s where my approach as a “tent maker” has been especially fruitful. I learn the community the same way the congregation does-not as “the minister” but by my part-time work.

Fretheim: Admittedly, in some communities, because of condos, apartment buildings, and locked doors, you can’t go door to door. You must use direct mail or newspaper ads. But I do think door-to-door visits are important even if the payoff is slim. One of our church planters says he averages one solid contact in two hundred calls.

Ross: I agree cold-turkey calling nets very little . . . initially. What you have to do is note the people who aren’t committed to a church and follow up on them, maybe four or five times.

That’s worked for me, especially with a busing ministry. As we continued to visit the parents of a child attending our Sunday school, sooner or later we would see a majority of them in church.

Fry: One of the best ways to establish rapport and reach out to a community is through a Vacation Bible School, and then following up on parents of the children who come. Those are key prospects: people concerned about having a church in their community.

Pattison: You’re best off “farming” those people you have contacts with-whether through the nucleus, Bible school, youth ministries, or whatever.

In the beginning stages, however, if you haven’t got anything else to do, you might as well go door to door.

Leadership: How do you decide where a new church is needed?

Fretheim: We look for an area with seventy-five thousand population and growing, and which has no church of our type. (Not our denomination, but our type. We’re not anxious to compete with spiritual cousins.)

Then we bring in a nucleus builder who gathers names from our denominational periodical’s subscription list, the alumni directory of North Park College, and other Covenant churches in the vicinity. He tries to assemble a nucleus, a fellowship group that meets and prays together about starting a new church.

After six to eight months, if the group concludes they want to launch a church, that’s where we begin, and we assign a developer/pastor.

Pattison: The best areas for planting churches are (1) those with no other ministry of your style, and (2) those with population growth.

Some communities have decreasing populations. That’s probably not a wise choice for a new church. The strategy there is to revitalize an old church.

Planting a church in a growing area allows the church to grow with the community. You can discover where a city’s growth will be by asking for studies by the planning commission, the state government, county government, and chamber of commerce.

Fry: We’ve found you can get good demographic information from the school districts and corporations like McDonald’s. They work hard at knowing the population trends. If a McDonald’s is going up somewhere, it’s almost certain lots of people will be moving into the area.

Pattison: Land developers often want churches in their subdivisions, and they’ll offer you a tract at reasonable prices-but be careful where they stick you. They may offer an out-of-the-way corner they can’t use for anything else.

One way to get an advantageous location is to approach the developer and explain your church would like to start a day-care center. Then you’ve got his attention.

If you’re in the inner city, where apartment towers are rising and traditional churches are leaving, you may have to be creative, perhaps by using the community room of a high-rise. A cluster of high-rises may have two hundred families; that’s more than many towns that support several churches.

In Colorado, we’ve also had industries move into rural areas and create a boom town. There you can move in with a trailer chapel and start a ministry immediately.

Fry: Once you’ve decided on the general proximity, then location is important. The church has got to be visible and accessible.

Leadership: In picking your site among other churches, how close is too close?

Ross: In my case, circumstantial factors helped determine the church’s location. In Tulsa, I went where the nucleus families were already located. You build a church near your nucleus.

In Austin, Minnesota, we were able to purchase a building a Lutheran group was vacating. So again, circumstances and the availability of land helped determine our location.

Fretheim: As a general rule in an urban area, I’d say half a mile is a good, safe distance from another church. If you get any closer, you hurt your own cause, too, because the area is already serviced. That’s foolish if there are other wide-open areas.

Fry: There are thousands of Lutherans in Minnesota. So why do we keep planting more Lutheran churches? Because the styles of ministry vary, and our style will reach some while another style will reach others. If our goal is reaching people with the gospel, we can’t be concerned about professional jealousy.

Leadership: With people often driving twenty minutes to church these days, do churches really have territorial claims? If style of ministry is what distinguishes churches, theoretically you could be next door and not cut into another church’s ministry.

Pattison: That depends on what happens to our economy. If we ever have another fuel shortage, one of the first things to stop running will be church buses. Next will be the people driving ten miles to church-they’ll find one in their community.

It is true, however, that in rural towns you’ll find four churches on the same corner. That’s all right if they have four different styles of ministry.

A friend of mine started a church in Colorado near several other evangelical churches. Yet he aimed his ministry at the tremendous number of unchurched people in that area. He wasn’t sheep-stealing; there were people yet to be reached.

Fretheim: Last year, we ran a house-to-house survey in our area trying to determine who was churched and unchurched. By our results, the community was 60 percent Catholic. We took our list to the Catholic priest and checked it against the parish records, and we found only 50 percent were bona fide Catholics. Ten percent were just using the name to get rid of Protestant doorbell ringers.

Pattison: We have something like 80 million people in the United States who do not go to any existing church. That’s a larger mission field than almost any nation to which we send missionaries. Church planters need to see themselves as missionaries reaching the lost.

Leadership: How do you keep your sanity in rented facilities?

Fretheim: Recognize the benefits: they’re cheap. We met in a school for $44 a Sunday. Now that congregation is paying $5,000 a month for its own building.

Also, be honest and deal in good faith with those you’re renting from. I still shudder when I think of a school we used in Minnesota. Another church had preceded us in renting the building, and they had a clever way of leaving tracts throughout the building so on Monday the school personnel would be evangelized. All it produced was ill will.

Pattison: I’d suggest: (1) hire a custodial service-either from the school, the landlord, the community, or even from within the congregation to solve the problem of what’s left on Monday morning. (2) Try to secure storage space in the building you’re renting so you don’t need a caravan of station wagons to haul equipment every Sunday. (3) Get into your own quarters as quickly as you can.

Fry: We’ve used gyms, cafeterias, even a lodge hall with a moose head gazing down from the wall. We found it helped to use banners-items that were “ours”-to enhance the visual effect that this is the place of God for us.

Leadership: What are the financial facts of life in a new church?

Pattison: Don’t lay a financial burden on a small congregation if you want it to grow. That’s essential. People struggling with the family budget don’t want to come to church to hear about more financial problems. Take positive action to dispel the fear that all this church wants is my money.

What we have found as a workable solution is to not take an offering; we simply let people know where the offering plates are located and remove the fear that all we want is their money.

Ross: The only emphasis I’ve ever put on finances is to preach about tithes and offerings and then give people an opportunity to respond.

I was speaking at a religious school one day, and a young boy asked, “Why do you make people tithe?”

I challenged him, “Just try to make people tithe. You can’t do it.” I explained that when it’s presented properly, tithing doesn’t offend; people respond.

Pattison: Two other things are important. First, don’t neglect missions. People in a small church especially need to give to something besides themselves.

Second, establish rapport with a lending institution that will eventually finance your building. Start your savings account there. Let the banker know about your assets, that you have twenty-five families and they all have savings accounts, that you’ve been able to lay aside funds in excess of your needs, and that as soon as you construct a building, figures indicate you’ll double in size. That talks to bankers, and they’re willing to help you.

Fretheim: What I stress is information and confidence. In financial matters, one breeds the other. Keeping people informed about the needs and the status gains their confidence. That’s why we make clear financial reports available every month.

Our church also tithed its income. We felt if we preached it, we should practice it, so a tenth of our income went to causes outside the local area.

Leadership: What’s the pastor’s role in a young church’s finances? Are you personally involved?

Fretheim: In budgeting and policies, yes. But I’ve never seen the financial secretary’s books. I don’t want to know what anyone gives. When I preach, people know I haven’t looked them up in the book.

Leadership: How many people do you need to start a church? Traditionally, the old Jewish custom required ten heads of household before establishing a synagogue.

Ross: That’s not a bad rule of thumb.

Pattison: We’ve started ours with five families in the nucleus, approximately twenty-five people. When it grows to ten families, you know it’s established. And it usually grows pretty quickly.

If each of those five families, who are really enthused, can bring one family, suddenly you’ve doubled in size, and you’re the fastest-growing church in the community!

Fretheim: There are two times when you really grow: when you begin the Sunday program and when you enter your own building. So you want to begin the Sunday program as soon as you can, even if it’s only with five families.

Fry: You need something to which you can invite people.

Leadership: What can new churches offer that established churches can’t?

Pattison: In searching for a church, most Christians look for what a church can do for them. In church planting, however, the people who are willing to commit themselves have a higher level of spiritual commitment. They’re asking, “What can I do for the Lord?”

Pioneer churches give laity an opportunity to minister that they don’t get in larger congregations.

Fry: In addition, mission churches have higher percentages of new and/or reclaimed Christians, which produces a different vitality.

Fretheim: A new church has a very clear goal in mind: to build a congregation and, eventually, a building. That provides remarkable motivation.

Leadership: Should the founding pastor move on when the church is established? If so, when do you know it’s time?

Fretheim: For me, I feel my job is to gather the congregation, build the building, and install the program. Then my phase is finished, and it’s time for someone else to integrate the people into the program-and to wrestle with the debt I’ve incurred. (Laughter) A new voice at that time is good.

Leadership: Did you announce that in advance?

Fretheim: Yes. In Illinois I said, “I’ll take you through the building program,” but I was sixty-five when I began. And I stayed two years longer than I’d planned.

Fry: Congregations reach certain plateaus, and new leadership is important. We also need to make use of those gifted in church planting, freeing them to go out and do it again.

Pattison: I think that was Paul’s ambition when he said he didn’t want to build “on someone else’s foundation” (Rom. 15:20).

Fry: On the other hand, some plant a church and feel no need to do it again. They stay with that flock forty years.

Leadership: What should the founding pastor do to prepare the church for his successor?

Pattison: Emphasize the ministry, not the minister. Let them know the goal is reaching the community, and that the next pastor will do things differently.

I’ve found it’s best to let a young congregation go for a while without a pastor, which means you have to leave them in sound financial shape. But that six months or so with an interim is important for them in finding the first pastor of their choosing.

Leadership: How do you handle discouragement? Have you ever felt like pulling the plug on a failing new church?

Pattison: If the need is there, you never pull the plug-you correct the problem. That’s an area where small churches have the advantage over large ones: it’s easier to turn a rowboat than an ocean liner.

Christ will see his body grow. If the initial reason for planting the church is still there, then fight through the problems and go on with the ministry.

Also, recognize the problems inherent in a small congregation. There are twelve Sundays in summer, for instance, and most people will be on vacation for three of them. So, at best, a fourth of your congregation will be gone on any given Sunday. Don’t be discouraged. We don’t need big numbers to keep us going; encouragement comes from seeing people respond to Christ.

Ross: I agree. If you go by your emotions, you’re always facing the question “Will this make it or won’t it?” But if you’re determined to hold on, to keep fighting those spiritual battles, things have a way of working out.

Your encouragement comes in retrospect as you look back and see how far you’ve come since you started. Even a little progress makes a big difference in church planting, and seeing that helped me through the rough places.

Fretheim: At the beginning of my ministry in Cottage Grove, Minnesota, we were very, very small. One day I met the local Catholic priest, who asked me, “How many people will you have at church next Sunday?”

I wasn’t proud, so I admitted, “Oh, maybe a dozen.”

“Don’t feel badly,” he said. “I know a man who had twelve followers, and he did all right.”

That insight helped me, and it’s stayed with me ever since.

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

Zeal vs. Art: The Preacher’s Dilemma

To create 30 minutes of beauty doesn’t always take you where you’re called to go.

We are highlighting Leadership Journal's Top 40, the best articles of the journal's 36-year history, presenting them in chronological order. Today we present #33, from 1984.

The Book of Jonah is the tale of a reluctant preacher. Jonah's message, as we have come to know it, is: "Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown" (Jon. 3:4).

A brief eight words. Surely there is more: some clever and imaginative introduction lost in the oral manuscript. There must have been iterations, poetry, and exegesis. But they are gone, and those eight words are all we know.

Such a miniature message seems anticlimactic. Even the king of Nineveh had more to say than Jonah (see vv. 7-9). But the lost sermon was preached and bore a stern word of necessity. Verse 10 states its effect: "And God saw their works, that they turned from their evil way; and God repented of the evil, that he had said that he would do unto them; and he did it not."

The results of sermons in the Bible seem to be of great importance. This is true of either Testament. Acts 2:40-41 speaks of the dramatic results of Peter's Pentecostal sermon, and a few days later we are told, "Howbeit many of them which heard the word believed; and the number of the men was about five thousand" (Acts 4:4). While Jonah omits the statistics of his sermon, Luke was careful to note Simon's.

Preaching in the New Testament seems to emulate the authoritative style of the Old Testament prophets. Ever cloaked in other-worldly authority, preaching became the vehicle the early church rode into the arena of evangelizing the Roman Empire. As common people of Galilee once marveled at Christ's authority in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 7:28-29), so the authority of Scripture-based sermons became the defense-sometimes the sole defense-of the men and women who pressed the strong alternative of the gospel.

No Time to Waste

From John the Baptist to the end of the New Testament era, the sermon, like the church itself, flamed with apocalyptic zeal. The prophets had preached strong declarations of the direction of God in history. Following Pentecost, the sermon was possessed of a new spiritual union, where the preacher and the Holy Spirit were joined. The sermon, like Scripture, was dictated by the Spirit. Because of a direct alliance with the Trinity, the preacher had the right to speak with God's authority, demanding immediate action and visible decisions. This "right-now" ethic saw the sermon in terms of the demand of God. When God demanded decisions, they could be tabulated as soon as the sermon was finished. Sheep could immediately be divided from goats.

The specific message was delivered by those who possessed the call. The rules of primitive homiletics were not defined. The sermon was the man; the medium, the message. The product was instant and visible. Faith could be tabulated by those who cried in the streets that they believed, admitted to baptism, and showed up for the breaking of bread and prayers.

Following the first head counts in Jerusalem, the fire of evangelism spread, pushed on by the hot winds of Greek and Aramaic sermons. Congregations sprang up as sermons called them into being. Without institutional structure, programs, or buildings, the church celebrated the simple center of worship-the sermon and that which the sermon created: the company of the committed, the fellowship of believers.

The sermon was not celebrated as art, though doubtless, art may have been an aspect of delivery. Art was not so important in the panicky apocalypticism of Century One. Zeal raged in the bright light of Pentecost, not art. The sermon was the means of reaching the last, desperate age of humanity. One needed not to polish phrases or study word roots-the kingdom was at hand-there wasn't time to break ground for a seminary. Church administration went begging. On the eve of Armageddon, committees and bureaus were unimportant. There was only one point to be made. All human wisdom was one set of alternatives: repent or perish.

This was also Jonah's sermon: repent or perish. Like those of the New Testament era, his was not a notable document. The sermon was the workhorse of urgent evangelism.

Jonah's sermon was powerful simply because it was not ornate. He who cries "fire" in a theater need not be an orator. Indeed, he is allowed to interrupt the art of actors. It is not an offense to the years of disciplined training to be set aside for the urgent and unadorned word: "The theater is on fire!" The bearer rates his effectiveness on how fast the theater is cleared, not on the ovation of the customers. The alarmist is not out for encores but empty seats. His business is rescue.

The Book of Jonah concerns such reluctant and apocalyptic preaching. The royal family sitting at last in the ashes of national repentance illustrates how effective his urgency was.

This zealous declaration is the Word of God as it is preached today in growing churches. Those who would speak an artistic word must do it in churches already built. Further, those who admire the Fosdicks and Maclarens-and they are to be admired-must see that their artistry would be passed by in the slums of London, where Booth's drums and horns sounded not a "trumpet voluntary" to call men and women to the queen's chapel but the "oom-pah-pah" of the cross. "Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?" was an urgent question that nauseated Anglicans even as it intrigued the poor and downtrodden of England with its zealous demands.

What did Booth say? Who knows? Who cares?

What did Whitefield say? What Billy Sunday? What Finney, what Wesley, what Mordecai Ham? To be sure, some of their sermons survive. But essentially they viewed their preaching not in the Chrysostom tradition but the tradition of the Baptizer of Christ: "O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bring forth therefore fruits worthy of repentance" (Luke 3:7-8), or Simon Peter, who cried, "Save yourselves from this untoward generation" (Acts 2:40).

The Coming of Art

Here and there were men like Jonathan Edwards who combined the best of literary tradition and apocalyptic zeal. But there was a real sense in which Edwards, the Mathers, and the other Puritans supplied a pre-soap-opera generation with a cultural center. The better their apocalypse, the higher the other-world fever of their gospel contagion. Their fiery tirades began to resemble the spirit of a matador, and the amens were the enthusiastic ol‚s, where the champion was not Jehovah but the preacher. Kate Caffrey writes in The Mayflower:

A strong style was favored-in 1642 John Cotton recommended preaching after the manner of Christ, who, he said, "let fly poynt blanck"-and the hearers judged each performance like professional drama critics. Two sermons on Sunday and a lecture-sermon or weeknight meeting, usually on Thursday, were the custom, with fines of up to five shillings for absence from church. Only those who wished need go to the weeknight sermon, which was accompanied by no prayers or other teaching. Yet they were so popular in the sixteen-thirties that the General Court of Massachusetts tried to make every community hold them on the same day, to cut down all the running about from one town to the next. The preachers protested that it was in order to hear sermons that people had come to New England, so the court contented itself with the mild recommendation that listeners should at least be able to get home before dark.

Even condemned criminals joined in the vogue for sermons. On March 11, 1686, when James Morgan was executed in Boston, three sermons were preached to him by Cotton and Increase Mather and Joshua Moody (so many came to hear Moody that their combined weight cracked the church gallery), and the prisoner delivered from the scaffold a stern warning to all present to take heed from his dread example.

Sermons were so important that it is impossible to overestimate them. Hourglasses, set up by the minister, showed the sermons' length: a bare hour was not good enough. People brought paper and inkhorns to take copious notes in a specially invented shorthand; many thick notebooks filled with closely written sermon summaries have been preserved. The meeting house rustled with the turning of pages and scratching of pens. Sermons were as pervasive then as political news today; they were read and discussed more eagerly than newspapers are now.

These intellectualized, zealous Massachusetts Bay sermons were celebrated by sermon lovers throughout New England. In these meeting houses the sermon grew in performance value. And yet the zeal and urgency were viewed as part of the performance.

The tendency remains. Now the zealot is a performer and the sermon a monologue celebrated for its emotional and statistical success. The burden is urgent but also entertaining. The preacher feels the burden of his word as the fire-crier feels the pain of his office. But he feels also the pleasure of its success, which is his reputation.

Ego being the force it is, the urgency of the cry often becomes a secondary theme. Artistry eclipses zeal.

In Moby Dick, Herman Melville tells us of Father Mapple's sermon on the Book of Jonah. Listen to Mapple's artistic treatment:

Then God spake unto the fish; and from the shuddering cold and blackness of the sea, the whale came breeching up towards the warm and pleasant sun, and all the delights of air and earth; and 'vomited out Jonah upon the dry land'; when the word of the Lord came a second time; and Jonah, bruised and beaten-his ears, like two sea-shells, still multitudinously murmuring of the ocean-Jonah did the Almighty's bidding. And what was that, shipmates? To preach the truth to the face of Falsehood! That was it!

This, shipmates, this is that other lesson; and woe to that pilot of the living God who slights it. Woe to him whom this world charms from Gospel duty! Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the waters when God has brewed them into a gale! Woe to him who seeks to please rather than to appal! Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness! Woe to him who, in this world, courts not dishonour! Yea, woe to him who, as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others is himself a castaway!

But perhaps Father Mapple's art can afford to be more obvious than his zeal: he is preaching in a church already there and is not delivering urgency but a sermon on urgency!

How Shall We Then Preach?

For years I have felt myself trapped in this quandary. Growing a church causes me to speak of redemption, frequently and earnestly. My sermons often sound to me too Falwellian or Criswellian or Pattersonian, my sermons more zealous than artistic. It is their intent to draw persons to Christ, in which pursuit my church is engaged.

But you may object, "Is it only sermon that creates your church? Do you not use the manuals and conventional machinery of the church and parachurch?" Yes. There have been mailing programs, and such radio and newspaper ads as we could manage. In fact, has not the sermon become second place in the church? Bill Hull once said in a denominational symposium:

Let us candidly confront this chilling claim that the pulpit is no longer the prow of the church, much less of civilization, as Herman Melville visualized it in Moby Dick. Ask any pulpit committee after months of intensive investigation and travel: How many pastors in the Southern Baptist Convention are even trying to build their careers on the centrality of preaching? . . . Subtle but excruciating pressures are brought to bear on the minister today to spend all of the week feverishly engineering some spectacular scheme designed to draw attention to his church, then on Saturday night to dust off somebody else's clever sermon outline (semantic gimmickry) for use the next morning.

Is this not so? To some degree, I think it is.

But there are some of us who don't want it to be. We feel called to do the work of an evangelist and believe urgency can have some class, and be done with some artistry and/or enlightenment. For years I have listened to the sermons of Richard Jackson, pastor at North Phoenix Baptist Church, with great debt to his example. After he finished a long section in the Passion passage of Saint John, I had seen the cross in a new light. During more than a year of sermons from that Gospel, more than six hundred were added to his church by baptism. Perhaps Pastor Jackson has taken the burden of urgency to the Greek New Testament and the credible commentators and has emerged to say, "Here is enlightened urgency."

Perhaps Swindoll has done it with certainty. Perhaps Draper did it with Hebrews in his commentary. The sermon by each of these, I believe, is a declaration of urgency that at the same time takes giant strides toward homiletic finesse.

A secular parallel commends itself, again noticed by Bill Hull:

With disaster staring him in the face, Churchill took up the weapon of his adversary and began to do battle with words. From a concrete bomb shelter deep underground, he spoke to the people of Britain not of superiority but of sacrifice, not of conquest but of courage, not of revenge but of renewal. Slowly but surely, Winston Churchill talked England back to life. To beleaguered old men waiting on their rooftops with the buckets of water for the fire bombs to land, to frightened women and children huddled behind sandbags with sirens screaming overhead, to exhausted pilots dodging tracer bullets in the midnight sky, his words not only announced a new dawn but also conveyed the strength to bring it to pass.

No wonder Ruskin described a sermon as "thirty minutes to raise the dead." That is our awesome assignment: to put into words, in such a way that our hearers will put into deeds, the new day that is ours in Jesus Christ our Lord.

I am not talking about dogmatism. Dogmatism is authority-sclerosis. It is an incessant filibuster-never mute, always deaf! Talking is easier and much louder than thinking. The growing church too often cannot celebrate new truth, for it is too long screaming the old ones. The familiar is the creed, the unfamiliar is liberalism and dangerous revisionism. The thinking person off the street may want to ask questions and enter into dialogue, but he finds that trying to ask a question is like shouting into the gale or trying to quote the flag salute at a rock concert. His need for reasons seems buried in the noise.

I have always applauded Huck Finn for deciding to go with Tom Sawyer to hell than with the fundamentalist Miss Watson to heaven:

Then she told me all about the bad place, and I said I wished I was there. She got mad, then, but I didn't mean no harm. All I wanted was to go somewheres; all I wanted was a change, I wasn't particular. She said it was wicked to say what I said; said she wouldn't say it for the whole world; she was going to live so as to go to the good place. Well, I couldn't see no advantage in going where she was going, so I made up my mind I wouldn't try for it. But I never said so, because it would only make trouble and wouldn't do no good.

Now she had got a start, and she went on and told me all about the good place. She said all a body would have to do there was to go around all day long with a harp and sing, forever and ever. So I didn't think much of it. But I never said so. I asked her if she reckoned Tom Sawyer would go there, and, she said, not by a considerable sight. I was glad about that, because I wanted him and me to be together.

The logic of the streets is doubly plagued by such images. Why would a robust, open-minded Christ so love an overcorseted, dyspeptic, neurotic Scripture quoter as Miss Watson? Hell, for all its fiery disadvantages, seems a quieter and kinder place than her heaven.

It is not that saying "Thus saith the Lord" is wrong, and yet we are all drawn by the counsel of a friend who says, "Let us look together at what the Lord saith"! When we become more authoritarian in dialogues, we need to be sure we are really speaking the mind of God and not merely strong-arming our own agenda in another's more mighty name.

What Matters Most

Still, as crass as it sounds, unless the preached word encounters and changes its hearers in some way, artistry and enchantment cannot be said to have mattered much. The sermon must not at last be cute, but life-changing. As Somerset Maugham said of certain writers, "Their flashy effects distract the mind. They destroy their persuasiveness; you would not believe a man was very intent on ploughing a furrow if he carried a hoop with him and jumped through it at every other step."

When the sermon has reasoned, exhorted, pled, and pontificated; when it has glittered with art and oozed with intrigue; when it has entered into human hearts and broken secular thralldom-when all of this has been done, the sermon must enter into judgment at a high tribunal. Like the speaker who uttered it, the sermon must hear the judgment of the last great auditor. If, indeed, every word is brought to God, one can imagine the last great gathering of the sermons of all ages-the march of the cassettes past the throne. Every word tried … a thousand, thousand sermons-indeed, a great multitude which no man could number: Peter Marshall, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Apostle, Peter Piper, Peter Paul, Popes, Carl McIntire, Oral Roberts, Robert Bellarmine, John R. Rice, John Newton, John Hus, Prince John-a thousand, thousand words from David Brainerd to Origen, Tertullian to Swaggart, Jack Van Impe to Arius, all at once replying to one issue: Which sermons really counted?

The God who is the ancient lover of sinners will cry to those sermons at his left hand, "Why did you not serve me? Why did you not love men and women enough to change them? You took their hearts, commanded their attention, but did nothing to change them. Be gone, ye cursed sermons, to Gehenna-be burned to ashes and scattered over chaos-for better sermons would have called chaos to unfold itself in strong creation."

Calvin Miller is pastor of Westside Baptist Church, Omaha, Nebraska.

Copyright © 1984 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Pastors

TO ILLUSTRATE…

PURITY

A farmer went each week to the Farmers’ Market to sell, among other things, the cottage cheese and apple butter made on his farm. He carried these in two large tubs, from which he ladled the cottage cheese or apple butter into smaller containers the customers brought.

One day he got to market and discovered he’d forgotten one ladle. He felt he had no choice but to use the one he had for both products.

Before long he couldn’t tell which was which.

That’s the way it is when we try to dispense the good news of Christ using hearts, minds, and tongues too recently immersed in the coarseness and one-upmanship of the world. Nobody gets any nourishment.

– Beth Landers

Waterloo, Ontario

PSEUDO-CONCERN

A lady answered the knock on her door to find a man with a sad expression.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but I’m collecting money for an unfortunate family in the neighborhood. The husband is out of work, the kids are hungry, the utilities will soon be cut off, and worse, they’re going to be kicked out of their apartment if they don’t pay the rent by this afternoon.”

“I’ll be happy to help,” said the woman with great concern. “But who are you?”

“I’m the landlord,” he replied.

– Jon H. Allen

Ontario, California

LOVING ENEMIES

In The Grace of Giving, Stephen Olford tells of a Baptist pastor during the American Revolution, Peter Miller, who lived in Ephrata, Pennsylvania, and enjoyed the friendship of George Washington.

In Ephrata also lived Michael Wittman, an evil-minded sort who did all he could to oppose and humiliate the pastor.

One day Michael Wittman was arrested for treason and sentenced to die. Peter Miller traveled seventy miles on foot to Philadelphia to plead for the life of the traitor.

“No, Peter,” General Washington said. “I cannot grant you the life of your friend.”

“My friend!” exclaimed the old preacher. “He’s the bitterest enemy I have.”

“What?” cried Washington. “You’ve walked seventy miles to save the life of an enemy? That puts the matter in different light. I’ll grant your pardon.” And he did.

Peter Miller took Michael Wittman back home to Ephrata-no longer an enemy but a friend.

– Lynn Jost

Hesston, Kansas

ENSLAVED BY SIN

Thomas Costain’s history, The Three Edwards, describes the life of Raynald III, a fourteenth-century duke in what is now Belgium.

Grossly overweight, Raynald was commonly called by his Latin nickname, Crassus, which means “fat.”

After a violent quarrel, Raynald’s younger brother Edward led a successful revolt against him. Edward captured Raynald but did not kill him. Instead, he built a room around Raynald in the Nieuwkerk castle and promised him he could regain his title and property as soon as he was able to leave the room.

This would not have been difficult for most people since the room had several windows and a door of near-normal size, and none was locked or barred. The problem was Raynald’s size. To regain his freedom, he needed to lose weight. But Edward knew his older brother, and each day he sent a variety of delicious foods. Instead of dieting his way out of prison, Raynald grew fatter.

When Duke Edward was accused of cruelty, he had a ready answer: “My brother is not a prisoner. He may leave when he so wills.”

Raynald stayed in that room for ten years and wasn’t released until after Edward died in battle. By then his health was so ruined he died within a year … a prisoner of his own appetite.

– Dave Wilkinson

Oroville, California

COMPLACENCY

Ronald Meredith, in his book Hurryin’ Big for Little Reasons, describes one quiet night in early spring:

Suddenly out of the night came the sound of wild geese flying. I ran to the house and breathlessly announced the excitement I felt. What is to compare with wild geese across the moon?

It might have ended there except for the sight of our tame mallards on the pond. They heard the wild call they had once known. The honking out of the night sent little arrows of prompting deep into their wild yesterdays. Their wings fluttered a feeble response, The urge to fly-to take their place in the sky for which God made them-was sounding in their feathered breasts, but they never raised from the water.

The matter had been settled long ago. The corn of the barnyard was too tempting! Now their desire to fly only made them uncomfortable.

Temptation is always enjoyed at the price of losing the capacity for flight.

– Jim Moss

Hendersonville, Tennessee

SECOND COMING

During his 1960 presidential campaign, John F. Kennedy often closed his speeches with the story of Colonel Davenport, the Speaker of the Connecticut House of Representatives.

One day in 1789, the sky of Hartford darkened ominously, and some of the representatives, glancing out the windows, feared the end was at hand.

Quelling a clamor for immediate adjournment, Davenport rose and said, “The Day of Judgment is either approaching or it is not. If it is not, there is no cause for adjournment. If it is, I choose to be found doing my duty. Therefore, I wish that candles be brought.”

Rather than fearing what is to come, we are to be faithful till Christ returns. Instead of fearing the dark, we’re to be lights as we watch and wait.

– Harry Heintz

Troy, New York

COPING

There are two ways of handling pressure. One is illustrated by a bathysphere, the miniature submarine used to explore the ocean in places so deep that the water pressure would crush a conventional submarine like an aluminum can. Bathyspheres compensate with plate steel several inches thick, which keeps the water out but also makes them heavy and hard to maneuver. Inside they’re cramped.

When these craft descend to the ocean floor, however, they find they’re not alone. When their lights are turned on and you look through the tiny, thick plate-glass windows, what do you see? Fish!

These fish cope with extreme pressure in an entirely different way. They don’t build thick skins; they remain supple and free. They compensate for the outside pressure through equal and opposite pressure inside themselves.

Christians, likewise, don’t have to be hard and thick-skinned-as long as they appropriate God’s power within to equal the pressure without.

– Jay Kesler

in Campus Life

VICARIOUS ATONEMENT

I read about a small boy who was consistently late coming home from school. His parents warned him one day that he must be home on time that afternoon, but nevertheless he arrived later than ever. His mother met him at the door and said nothing. His father met him in the living room and said nothing.

At dinner that night, the boy looked at his plate. There was a slice of bread and a glass of water. He looked at his father’s full plate and then at his father, but his father remained silent. The boy was crushed.

The father waited for the full impact to sink in, then quietly took the boy’s plate and placed it in front of himself. He took his own plate of meat and potatoes, put it in front of the boy, and smiled at his son.

When that boy grew to be a man, he said, “All my life I’ve known what God is like by what my father did that night.”

– J. Allan Peterson

Denver, Colorado

SPIRITUAL LEADERSHIP

In The Last Days Newsletter, Leonard Ravenhill tells about a group of tourists visiting a picturesque village who walked by an old man sitting beside a fence. In a rather patronizing way, one tourist asked, “Were any great men born in this village?”

The old man replied, “Nope, only babies.”

A frothy question brought a profound answer. There are no instant heroes-whether in this world or in the kingdom of God. Growth takes time, and as 1 Timothy 3:6 and 5:22 point out, even spiritual leadership must be earned.

– William C. Shereos

Chicago, Illinois

HUMAN NATURE

A school teacher lost her life savings in a business scheme that had been elaborately explained by a swindler. When her investment disappeared and her dream was shattered, she went to the Better Business Bureau.

“Why on earth didn’t you come to us first?” the official asked. “Didn’t you know about the Better Business Bureau?”

“Oh, yes,” said the lady sadly. “I’ve always known about you. But I didn’t come because I was afraid you’d tell me not to do it.”

The folly of human nature is that even though we know where the answers lie-God’s Word-we don’t turn there for fear of what it will say.

– Jerry Lambert

Findlay, Ohio

What are the most effective illustrations you’ve come across? We want to share them with other pastors and teachers who need material that communicates with clarity and imagination. For items used, leadership will pay $15. If the material has been previously published, please include the source.

Stories, analogies, and word pictures should he sent to:

To Illustrate . . .

LEADERSHIP

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