Curing Souls: the Forgotten Art

In the bustle of running a church, something essential has been overlooked.

A reformation may be in process in the way pastors do their work. It may turn out to be as significant as the theological reformation of the sixteenth century. I hope so. The signs are accumulating.

The Reformers recovered the biblical doctrine of justification by faith. The gospel proclamation, fresh and personal and direct, through the centuries had become an immense, lumbering Rube Goldberg mechanism: elaborately contrived ecclesiastical gears, pulleys, and levers rumbled and creaked importantly but ended up doing something completely trivial. The Reformers recovered the personal passion and clarity so evident in Scripture. This rediscovery of firsthand involvement resulted in freshness and vigor.

The vocational reformation of our own time (if it turns out to be that) is a rediscovery of the pastoral work of the cure of souls. The phrase sounds antique. It is antique. But it is not obsolete. It catches up and coordinates, better than any other expression I am aware of, the unending warfare against sin and sorrow and the diligent cultivation of grace and faith to which the best pastors have consecrated themselves in every generation. The odd sound of the phrase may even work to advantage by calling attention to how remote present-day pastoral routines have become.

I am not the only pastor who has discovered this old identity. More and more pastors are embracing this way of pastoral work and are finding themselves authenticated by it. There are not a lot of us. We are by no means a majority, not even a high-profile minority. But one by one, pastors are rejecting the job description that has been handed to them and are taking on this new one-or, as it turns out, the old one that has been in use for most of the Christian centuries.

It is not sheer fantasy to think there may come a time when the number reaches critical mass and effects a genuine vocational reformation among pastors. Even if it doesn’t, it seems to me the single most significant and creative thing happening in pastoral ministry today.

The Work of the Week

There’s a distinction between what pastors do on Sundays and what we do between Sundays. What we do on Sundays has not really changed through the centuries: proclaiming the gospel, teaching Scripture, celebrating the sacraments, offering prayers. But the work between Sundays has changed radically, and it has not been a development but a defection.

Until about a century ago, what pastors did between Sundays was of a piece with what they did on Sundays. The context changed: instead of an assembled congregation, the pastor was with one other person or with small gatherings of persons, or alone in study and prayer. The manner changed; instead of proclamation, there was conversation. But the work was the same: discovering the meaning of Scripture, developing a life of prayer, guiding growth into maturity.

This is the pastoral work that is historically termed the cure of souls. The primary sense of cura in Latin is “care,” with undertones of “cure.” The soul is the essence of the human personality. The cure of souls, then, is the Scripture-directed, prayer-shaped care that is devoted to persons singly or in groups, in settings sacred and profane. It is a determination to work at the center, to concentrate on the essential.

The between-Sundays work of American pastors in this century, though, is running a church. I first heard the phrase just a few days before my ordination. After twenty-five years, I can still remember the unpleasant impression it made.

I was traveling with a pastor I respected very much. I was full of zest and vision, anticipating pastoral life. My inner conviction of call to the pastorate was about to be confirmed by others. What God wanted me to do, what I wanted to do, and what others wanted me to do were about to converge. From fairly extensive reading about pastor and priest predecessors, I was impressed that everyday pastoral life was primarily concerned with developing a life of prayer among the people. Leading worship, preaching the gospel, and teaching Scripture on Sundays would develop in the next six days into representing the life of Christ in the human traffic of the everyday.

With my mind full of these thoughts, my pastor friend and I stopped at a service station for gasoline. My friend, a gregarious person, bantered with the attendant. Something in the exchange provoked a question.

“What do you do?”

“I run a church.”

No answer could have surprised me more. I knew, of course, that pastoral life included institutional responsibilities, but it never occurred to me that I would be defined by those responsibilities. But the moment I became ordained, I found I was so defined both by the pastors and executives over me and by the parishioners around me. The first job description given me omitted prayer entirely.

Behind my back, while my pastoral identity was being formed by Gregory and Bernard, Luther and Calvin, Richard Baxter of Kidderminster and Nicholas Ferrar of Little Gidding, George Herbert and Jonathan Edwards, John Henry Newman and Alexander Whyte, Phillips Brooks and George MacDonald, the work of the pastor had been almost completely secularized (except for Sundays). I didn’t like it and decided, after an interval of confused disorientation, that being a physician of souls took priority over running a church, and that I would be guided in my pastoral vocation by wise predecessors rather than contemporaries. Luckily, I have found allies along the way and a readiness among my parishioners to work with me in changing my pastoral job description.

It should be clear that the cure of souls is not a specialized form of ministry (analogous, for instance, to hospital chaplain or pastoral counselor) but is the essential pastoral work. It is not a narrowing of pastoral work to its devotional aspects, but it is a way of life that uses weekday tasks, encounters, and situations as the raw material for teaching prayer, developing faith, and preparing for a good death. Curing souls is a term that filters out what is introduced by a secularizing culture. It is also a term that identifies us with our ancestors and colleagues in ministry, lay and clerical, who are convinced that a life of prayer is the connective tissue between holy day proclamation and weekday discipleship.

A caveat: I contrast the cure of souls with the task of running a church, but I do not want to be misunderstood. I am not contemptuous of running a church, nor do I dismiss its importance. I run a church myself; I have for over twenty years. I try to do it well.

But I do it in the same spirit that I, along with my wife, run our house. There are many essential things we routinely do, often (but not always) with joy. But running a house is not what we do. What we do is build a home, develop in marriage, raise children, practice hospitality, pursue lives of work and play. It is reducing pastoral work to institutional duties that I object to, not the duties themselves, which I gladly share with others in the church.

It will hardly do, of course, to stubbornly defy the expectations of people and eccentrically go about pastoral work like a seventeenth-century curate, even if the eccentric curate is far more sane than the current clergy. The recovery of this essential between-Sundays work of the pastor must be worked out in tension with the secularized expectations of this age: there must be negotiation, discussion, experimentation, confrontation, adaptation. Pastors who devote themselves to the guidance of souls must do it among people who expect them to run a church. In a determined and kindly tension with those who thoughtlessly presume to write job descriptions for us, we can, I am convinced, recover our proper work.

Pastors, though, who decide to reclaim the vast territory of the soul as their preeminent responsibility will not do it by going away for job retraining. We must work it out on the job, for it is not only ourselves but our people whom we are desecularizing. The task of vocational recovery is as endless as theological reformation. Details vary with pastor and parish, but there are three areas of contrast between running a church and the cure of souls that all of us experience: initiative, language, and problems.

Initiative

In running the church, I seize the initiative. I take charge. I take responsibility for motivation and recruitment, for showing the way, for getting things started. If I don’t, things drift. I am aware of the tendency to apathy, the human susceptibility to indolence, and I use my leadership position to counter it.

By contrast, the cure of souls is a cultivated awareness that God has already seized the initiative. The traditional doctrine defining this truth is prevenience: God everywhere and always seizes the initiative. He gets things going. He had and continues to have the first word. Prevenience is the conviction that God has been working diligently, redemptively, and strategically before I appeared on the scene, before I was aware there was something here for me to do.

The cure of souls is not indifferent to the realities of human lethargy, naive about congregational recalcitrance, or inattentive to neurotic cussedness. But there is a disciplined, determined conviction that everything (and I mean, precisely, everything) we do is a response to God’s first word, his initiating act. We learn to be attentive to the divine action already in process so that the previously unheard word of God is heard, the previously unattended act of God is noticed.

Running-the-church questions are: What do we do? How can we get things going again?

Cure-of-souls questions are: What has God been doing here? What traces of grace can I discern in this life? What history of love can I read in this group? What has God set in motion that I can get in on?

We misunderstand and distort reality when we take ourselves as the starting point and our present situation as the basic datum. Instead of confronting the bogged-down human condition and taking charge of changing it with no time wasted, we look at divine prevenience and discern how we can get in on it at the right time, in the right way.

The cure of souls takes time to read the minutes of the previous meeting, a meeting more likely than not at which I was not present. When I engage in conversation, meet with a committee, or visit a home, I am coming in on something that has already been in process for a long time. God has been and is the central reality in that process. The biblical conviction is that God is “long beforehand with my soul.” God has already taken the initiative. Like one who walks in late to a meeting, I am entering a complex situation in which God has already said decisive words and acted in decisive ways. My work is not necessarily to announce that but to discover what he is doing and live appropriately with it.

Language

In running the church I use language that is descriptive and motivational. I want people to be informed so there are no misunderstandings. And I want people to be motivated so things get done. But in the cure of souls I am far more interested in who people are and who they are becoming in Christ than I am in what they know or what they are doing. In this I soon find that neither descriptive nor motivational language helps very much.

Descriptive language is language about-it names what is there. It orients us in reality. It makes it possible for us to find our way in and out of intricate labyrinths. Our schools specialize in teaching us this language. Motivational language is language for-it uses words to get things done. Commands are issued, promises made, requests proffered. Such words get people to do things they won’t do on their own initiative. The advertising industry is our most skillful practitioner of this language art.

Indispensable as these uses of language are, there is another language more essential to our humanity and far more basic to the life of faith. It is personal language. It uses words to express oneself, to converse, to be in relationship. This is language to and with. Love is offered and received, ideas are developed, feelings are articulated, silences are honored. This is the language we speak spontaneously as children, as lovers, as poets and when we pray. It is also conspicuously absent when we are running a church-there is so much to say and do that there is no time left to be and no occasion, therefore, for the language of being there.

The cure of souls is a decision to work at the heart of things, where we are most ourselves and where our relationships in faith and intimacy are developed. The primary language must be, therefore, to and with, the personal language of love and prayer. The pastoral vocation does not take place primarily in a school where subjects are taught, nor in a barracks where assault forces are briefed for attacks on evil, but in a family-the place where love is learned, where birth takes place, where intimacy is deepened. The pastoral task is to use the language appropriate in this most basic aspect of our humanity-not language that describes, not language that motivates, but spontaneous language: cries and exclamations, confessions and appreciations, words the heart speaks.

We have, of course, much to teach and much to get done, but our primary task is to be. The primary language of the cure of souls, therefore, is conversation and prayer. Being a pastor means learning to use language in which personal uniqueness is enhanced and individual sanctity recognized and respected. It is a language that is unhurried, unforced, unexcited-the leisurely language of friends and lovers, which is also the language of prayer.

Problems

In running a church I solve problems. Wherever two or three are gathered together, problems develop. Egos are bruised, procedures get snarled, arrangements become confused, plans go awry, temperaments clash. There are policy problems, marriage problems, work problems, child problems, committee problems, emotional problems. Someone has to interpret, explain, work out new plans, develop better procedures, organize, and administer. Most pastors like to do this. I know I do. It is satisfying to help make the rough places smooth.

The difficulty is that problems arrive in such a constant flow that problem solving becomes full-time work. Because it is useful and the pastor ordinarily does it well, we fail to see that the pastoral vocation has been subverted. Gabriel Marcel wrote that life is not so much a problem to be solved as a mystery to be explored. That is certainly the biblical stance: life is not something we manage to hammer together and keep in repair by our wits; it is an unfathomable gift. We are immersed in mysteries: incredible love, confounding evil, the creation, the cross, grace, God.

The secularized mind is terrorized by mysteries. Thus it makes lists, labels people, assigns roles, and solves problems. But a solved life is a reduced life. These tightly buttoned-up people never take great faith risks or make convincing love talk. They deny or ignore the mysteries and diminish human existence to what can be managed, controlled, and fixed. We live in a cult of experts who explain and solve. The vast technological apparatus around us gives the impression that there is a tool for everything if we can only afford it. Pastors cast in the role of spiritual technologists are hard put to keep that role from absorbing everything else, since there are so many things that need to be and can, in fact, be fixed.

But “there are things,” wrote Marianne Moore, “that are important beyond all this fiddle.” The old-time guide of souls asserts the priority of the “beyond” over “this fiddle.” Who is available for this work other than pastors? A few poets, perhaps; and children, always. But children are not good guides, and most of our poets have lost interest in God. That leaves pastors as guides through the mysteries. Century after century we live with our conscience, our passions, our neighbors, and our God. Any narrower view of our relationships does not match our real humanity.

If pastors become accomplices in treating every child as a problem to be figured out, every spouse as a problem to be dealt with, every clash of wills in choir or committee as a problem to be adjudicated, we abdicate our most important work, which is directing worship in the traffic, discovering the presence of the cross in the paradoxes and chaos between Sundays, calling attention to the “splendor in the ordinary,” and, most of all, teaching a life of prayer to our friends and companions in the pilgrimage.

Eugene Peterson is pastor of Christ Our King United Presbyterian Church, Bel Air, Maryland.

- More from Eugene H. Peterson

Pastors

Straight Answers in a Crooked Age

Fred Smith

The quest for intellectual integrity in Christian leadership has a ways to go.

Several years ago, I was talking with a former fundamentalist who had left the ministry to enter politics. I realized how far he had strayed from fundamentalism when he said, “You know, Smith, I respect your intelligence. How in the world can you still believe in the authority of Scripture?”

I knew he would argue against a rational defense, so I took a different tack. “At one time in my life, I thought about taking your position,” I said, “because there was so much in the Bible I found distasteful. But then I realized it was my distaste rather than my disbelief that was causing the problem. I didn’t want to believe the parts of Scripture that commanded me to act. I didn’t want to lose control of my life and make obedience more important than knowledge.”

He didn’t change his mind, but I think he went away respecting the fact that intellectual integrity could make you submit to Scripture.

Since then I’ve done more thinking on the subject. If I remove the parts of Scripture I dislike, and five of my friends do likewise, the six of us could pretty well scrap the whole book through our distaste for obedience, rebellion against authority, and worship of knowledge. I know myself well enough to know I’m not God-like enough to be that authoritative. Honesty compels me to accept the authority of Scripture.

Intellectual integrity, however, is not abundant in the Christian community. In fact, I find more of it in business than I do in religion. There’s a simple reason: business uses the language of figures. Politics, religion, and education don’t lend themselves to bottom-line evaluation.

The Mantle of Spirituality

Take, for instance, the way we spiritualize the nonspiritual. One of the jobs of a “successful” pastor is to make the irresponsible comfortable. If a thousand members are giving, on the average, two percent of their income, you probably have a very successful budget. But it’s far short of what healthy Christians should contribute.

The pastor, however, brags on the size of the budget as if everybody were doing what they ought to do. Instead of talking about the irresponsibility of not giving what they should, he makes them comfortable about having met the budget.

Or take the politics of a church. Any group of people working together is a political organization. Church leaders must control the political structure, because that’s what gets their programs carried out. That part of the job is pure politics. Other parts of the job are truly spiritual-but perhaps only 25 percent. The 75 percent could be done by any capable Rotarian.

It is dishonest to throw the mantle of spirituality (the 25 percent) over the rest-to get up and say, “We have spent a long time praying about this and feel definite Spirit leadership in this slate of officers”-if in reality they’ve been selected for purely political reasons. There is, of course, nothing inherently dishonest in political dynamics.

I’ll Pray For You, Etc.

How many times do we promise to pray for someone when we have no intention of doing so? It does, however, get the person out of the office smoothly.

Or how about dropping God’s name? If I’ve been invited to the presidential prayer breakfast, I somehow make sure my friends know about it. That way I get in one lick for God and two licks for me.

Or how about preaching the imminent return of Christ while setting up a religious industry without any real belief in that happening? I’ve often wondered how book publishers negotiate royalty contracts with people who write about Jesus coming back any minute. Do they put in contingency clauses?

Who’s in the Family?

I’ve been very interested in Robert Schuller’s book Self-Esteem: The New Reformation. I’m an admirer of him, and when I attended a dinner the other night with some of his leaders, they gave me a copy. I read it to see if I would find where I might differ with Bob. In my mind I wanted him to be right, because I like the inspiration, the positive thinking.

But there is a theological problem in assuming that because we are creatures of God, we are children of God. I believe we are all creatures of God, and through the new birth, we become children of God. If we all start as children of God, there’s no reason for the new birth. And without that, there’s no reason for Christ to have come.

People who point to Christ as a “perfect example” are badly overengineering the product. I have a high-precision German sports car, and if I could find a highway with no speed limit, my car would be perfect for it. It cruises at 100 mph. When I’m forced to hold it to 55 mph, it doesn’t operate right. I have spent a lot of money for wasted precision.

Similarly, if God meant Christ to be simply a perfect example, the Son was way overengineered. Any human being who is better than I am is a good enough example for me. I already have Mother Teresa; what do I need with a perfect example? I’d be much better off becoming the disciple of someone only 15 percent better than I am than getting depressed by a perfect man. If Christ is an example, nobody needs him; but if he’s a sacrifice, everyone does.

Knowledge vs. Faith

Where does knowledge stop and faith begin? In the sphere of knowledge, I’m duty-bound to follow wherever the facts lead. I cannot take a dogmatic position. With faith, however, I have no other alternative but to take a dogmatic position, because I have no knowledge to base the faith on. I can come to my need for faith intellectually, but I cannot come to faith intellectually.

Much of higher education is an attempt to escape the vulnerability of faith, because you feel so silly saying to someone, “I don’t know, but I believe it.” This, however, is obviously what Christ wants. In faith we have obedience. In knowledge we have affirmation, but God knows the human heart well enough to know we don’t always utilize information properly. There’d never be any wars or suicides if we knew how to use our information.

I was having tea with Izzy Stone, now professor of Greek at American University in Washington after Joe McCarthy ran him out of the newspaper business by accusing him of being a Communist. I asked him, as a non-Christian, if theology was faith and philosophy was knowledge. He said, “No, all knowledge is based on faith.”

It reminded me of the precocious young man who was taken to visit Einstein. After a short visit, they walked out onto the porch, and the young man pointed to a tree: “Dr. Einstein, do we know that tree is there?”

“Only by faith,” Einstein replied.

The Church as Policeman

I was playing golf with the head of a financial company. Out of the blue he asked me, “Do you think God will take away my money because I’m not active in a church?”

“What makes you think he will?” I asked.

“My family tells me he will.”

They’re using religion to police him.

This goes on all the time. I was listening to the tape of a Christian friend’s funeral. The minister said, “Jesus got lonesome in heaven and took Chuck home to be with him.”

How is that widow supposed to feel toward such a capricious Lord? I thought to myself, If Jesus wasn’t with Chuck all the time, then Chuck isn’t with Jesus now!

I was speaking at a political meeting in our state capital, and after the meeting, at the very last, an attractive young man walked up and said, “Fred, do you have anything to tell my wife who has just lost a two-year-old son?” He paused and then added, “Do you think it was due to my early sins?”

I don’t know who had put that idea in his head, but I wrote both of them a long letter about the nature of God as I saw it-a God who doesn’t carry out grudges against unsuspecting children. They were greatly relieved.

It’s also dishonest to use religion to police people positively. Look at some of our money-raising schemes. I see no evidence that if you give God $100, he’ll give you $200 back. Yet whole groups of Christians promote this idea.

I know a successful Christian businesswoman who had the idea God ran her business. When I saw her beginning to get sloppy in her management, I felt I needed to tell her the business had succeeded because she was an exceptional person, and she’d better keep her hands on. If she “let God run it” alone, she’d go broke.

Christian organizations write letters asking for money, usually claiming that it’s obvious God is blessing their efforts because of the good results. That’s not obvious. That’s putting God on a very short leash. He’s bigger than last month’s statistics.

Ask wealthy Christians what their favorite verses of Scripture are. Generally, you’ll hear verses that promise blessings; their Christianity is a reward system. What they’re doing is humanizing God according to current standards of success.

I was speaking one night at a polo club to a group of very affluent people. One woman, dripping with diamonds, came up afterward to tell about her hobby: the stock market. “Fred, it’s just so wonderful to watch God work. The other night about 3:00 A.M. God woke me up and told me to buy Johnson & Johnson at 35.” (This was during the Tylenol problem.) “Fred, do you know it’s now at 50?”

I’m sure there are atheists and general materialists of all types who bought at 35 and enjoyed selling at 50. The truth is, stock trading is her hobby, and she’s very knowledgeable. Like a lot of other people, she somehow sensed that the poisonings were not J&J’s fault and the price would rebound quickly. But in her mind, she is convinced God has a golden ticker tape up in heaven and is paying very close attention to it to bless his people. Particularly the already rich.

Discipline, Ritual, Reality

I was taught to go to church twice on Sunday. So when I moved to an area where they didn’t have Sunday evening service, I didn’t know what to do. I felt guilty. It took me a long time to work through this, to get to the place where I could say to my wife, “Let’s stay home.” I love church, but we can worship without being in the sanctuary.

We need to be more honest with young Christians about that. For example, we tell a person to have a specific daily time for prayer and Bible study. That’s fine. But instead of laying it on as a duty, we need to explain it for what it is: “You are new; here is a discipline you’ll find healthy. Most mature Christians take up a routine for reading the Scripture. But it’s nothing more than a good discipline to set aside a daily time with God.” He isn’t tied to our schedule.

We must be honest with people about what is a discipline, what is a ritual, and what is reality.

People are so different in how they can best approach Scripture. I went to a church where a mathematician was the leading elder. He was very strong on studying the Bible consecutively. It just broke his heart not to go straight through the Bible. Others like to skip around, pick and choose. If we tell new Christians to dive right into certain parts of the Old Testament, we’ll turn many of them off. After all, we’re not trying to fulfill some point system but to develop a relationship with God.

Doubts and Beliefs

I was at a college in Florida where a medical doctor made the mistake of opening his speech by listing his doubts. He asked me later what I thought of his talk. I said, “I’ve found that I have no right to give a group my doubts, because when I find an answer, I can never get that group back together to finish the discussion. So while I live with my doubts, I only preach my beliefs.”

It’s tempting to express your doubts, because it makes you feel comfortable and real. But it’s much more helpful to focus on the positive. I remember a bull session with Baylor students, talking about the minimum you can do and be a good Christian. One foreign student spoke up: “I’m not interested in the minimum; I’m interested in the maximum.” I suddenly realized she was the one with intellectual integrity. We were trying to get into heaven on the cheapest general-admission ticket; she was in love with God.

Theology and Integrity

Intellectual integrity must even invade the study of theology. If systematic theology were examined with utmost care, it would be weakened a great deal, because many things have been pushed into boxes that really don’t fit. Too many theologians have a great mind for God but little heart for God. They come laboriously to the point of granting permission for intellectuals to believe in God. To me, this borders on arrogance.

I asked a Jewish philosopher, “Why aren’t all great theologians saints?”

He said, “It’s simple. Theology embodies one-upmanship. It views itself as the top of the intellectual ladder. If a theologian says to me, ‘What do you do?’ and I say I’m a scientist, he will say, ‘I am the one who studies the one who made what you study.’ “

In the end, I guess, that’s what makes intellectual integrity such a perplexing problem for all Christians. We’re all theologians to a degree. We all study God and the Bible. And there’s an almost irresistible temptation to take excessive pride in knowing the one, true God. But thinking we’re not accountable to the rest of humanity because God, by his grace, has chosen to bless us is the surest way to spoil all he’s done. Humility is still the surest way to genuine intellectual integrity.

Fred Smith is president of Fred Smith Associates, Dallas, Texas.

- More from Fred Smith

Pastors

REQUESTS TO REMARRY: THE PASTOR’S CATCH-22

Leadership Forum

Oklahoma may seem an unlikely place to discuss divorce and remarriage. After all, it’s the state that inspired a wholesome, well-scrubbed musical and spawned esteemed family man James Dobson. The land of oil wells, a prayer tower, and straight-living towns like Merle Haggard’s Muskogee are a world away from the revolving liaisons of Hollywood and the quickie marriage parlors of Reno.

But even the western end of the Bible Belt has been frayed by the growing national trend. All four ministers in this forum are confronting more and more people seeking remarriage. One said that fully half the requests he gets to officiate at weddings come from those previously married.

It’s a volatile subject. How can pastors minister to such people without undermining the Bible’s teaching on marriage? Of all the LEADERSHIP forums, this one provoked the most disagreement. Yet interestingly, the afternoon discussion in Tulsa was not disagreeable.

In voices softened with drawls and respect, the participants spoke honestly and openly. They are:

J. Hardin Boyer, pastor of Tulsa Bible Church, who does not remarry at all unless the previous spouse is dead;

Harold Ivan Smith, former Nazarene pastor until his own divorce, then a denominational specialist, now head of a Kansas City-based ministry to singles called Tear Catchers;

Ralph Speas, minister of Christian education at Tulsa’s Eastwood Baptist Church, who remarries only in the aftermath of adultery or desertion and requires the person first to make a serious attempt at reconciliation with the previous mate;

Robert Wise, pastor of Our Lord’s Community Church (Reformed Church in America) in Oklahoma City, who decides remarriage questions on a case-by-case basis.

None of the four speaks for his denomination or fellowship. Each simply articulates his personal attempt to minister to hurting people while maintaining biblical integrity.

Leadership: When divorced people come to your office asking for a wedding ceremony, what do you say?

Hardin Boyer: I feel my most important ministry is to give them a biblical view of divorce. Whether or not they agree with me, I think it’s critical for them to see what the Word of God says.

Even after the fact of a divorce, they need to know when it’s wrong to divorce and when it’s right to remarry. Then I ask, “Are you willing to subject yourself to the Word of God? Will you objectively study the passages and submit to them?”

And finally, I offer my help. Frequently these people are in turmoil. In most cases they’ve had personal problems to begin with that contributed to the divorce, and unless these are resolved, they’ll take them into the next marriage.

So even if I’m not willing to remarry them, I’ll refer them to pastors who will, and I tell them, “I’m here to help and counsel you.”

Leadership: When do you agree to remarry someone?

Boyer: I do not remarry people at all, unless the person’s spouse has died. I tell them, “You may have a biblical right to remarry, but this is my position.”

The reason is that even if I try to use Matthew 19’s exception clause (“for immorality”)-the situations I face are impossible to judge. Who’s the innocent party? Am I to track down the former mate? Has God called me to be a private detective?

Let’s say a woman comes to me and says, “My husband committed adultery.” Even though what he did was wrong (assuming he did it), how do I know how much part she had in driving him to it?

So I tell people, “This is my personal conviction. You may disagree totally, but I’ll respect your conviction if you’ll respect mine.”

Ralph Speas: I can see Hardin’s point in not wanting to be a judge. People can completely fool you, and no pastor wants to stand up there endorsing a remarriage when everybody else is smirking and saying, “We know what really happened.”

My position is different, though I still aim to let the Bible be my authority. I won’t remarry anybody unless the divorce was for reason of desertion or immorality. And by immorality I mean a lifestyle of immorality, not isolated acts.

One man told me, “My wife committed adultery, and I want a divorce.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “I didn’t know she had been living that way.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “It happened once twenty-five years ago.”

He didn’t have a case. The word in Matthew 19 is porneia, which means a lifestyle of immorality that the person refuses to quit.

Leadership: What do you do with the people you won’t remarry?

Speas: I try to help the person develop a creative lifestyle as a single. Sometimes the person needs to just forget about marriage for a while. I often tell people, “You can’t be happy married until you’re happy single.” The Bible is full of truths on how to cope with life where we are, not somewhere else.

Sometimes that means going back to attempt reconciliation with the former mate. Maybe it means facing responsibilities as a parent-you can divorce your spouse, but not your kids. I do everything I can to help these people, but first of all I want to know if they’ve measured up scripturally. I can’t get any peace unless I have that.

Harold Ivan Smith: Ralph, how long have you been at Eastwood?

Speas: Seven years.

Smith: In some churches, there could be two or three pastors in seven years, and the policy on remarriage could change drastically from pastor to pastor. That’s why I see a need to involve laity in at least an advisory capacity to provide continuity and consistency.

I don’t have problems with your point of view, or Hardin’s either, if those positions are consistent. What really bothers divorced people is inconsistency. Some pastors marry so-and-so but refuse to marry someone else, and the only reason seems to be personal whim. Divorced individuals want a policy set by the church as a whole.

Leadership: Robert, where do you come down in all of this?

Robert Wise: I think I represent a different position. You see, I can’t be as precise in saying, “Here’s what the Bible says, and that’s it.” Is the Bible a legal measuring stick, a list of requirements to be met? Or is there a spirit within the measuring stick that leads us to ask other questions that aren’t so easily answered?

What I’ve heard so far, which I respect, is a view of the Bible as essentially a legal document. I find it difficult, however, to come at the Bible that way.

One reason is the way Jesus dealt with people-for instance, the woman caught in adultery. He obviously stepped over one of the laws of Moses in that case. The woman was totally wrong; nothing about the situation tempers what she did. Yet Jesus responds with grace and forgiveness.

Perhaps it was arbitrary but certain people who are in the midst of wrong are willing to repent, to completely turn their lives in a new direction, to adopt a Christian lifestyle.

In the face of that, I’m personally unable to say, “OK, you’ve changed your life, changed your heart, but I can’t affirm that by officiating at your wedding. Good luck.” No, I have to say, “I’ve gone with you through this process, and now I’m willing to help you make this marriage work.”

So my position does contain some arbitrariness. Not that it doesn’t have guidelines, but those guidelines spring from the spirit of Scripture, which isn’t always black and white. If I minister to people, I find I have to wander into gray areas. Sometimes I’ll be wrong, but I think I’ll be redemptive.

Boyer: My problem with that, Robert, is that if you take such a view on divorce and remarriage, what keeps you from taking that view on whatever subject comes along? For instance, Ephesians 5 says certain things about how a man relates to his wife. If the laws of Scripture aren’t accurate and technical in details, then what keeps us from dismissing them whenever a problem area arises?

Wise: To be consistent, the principle has to hold. For example, in the case of Ephesians 5, it must be understood in spirit, not in law. So I see those instructions prefaced by the principle: Submit to one another.

Boyer: But does it have to be one or the other-the spirit or the law? Can’t they go together?

As I understand it, in Matthew 5 for instance, Christ interprets the law technically, but he says the spirit must go along with it. The Pharisees accepted the rigidity of the law, but there was no spirit, no heart behind it. Christ said that not only shall you not murder-technically-but you must not have a spirit of hate in your heart.

Wise: Exactly. I’m just suggesting that interpreting the letter involves the spirit, and I find I’m not able to be as precise about that as some others are.

That’s why I tend not to start the initial counseling time with biblical material. I’ve found that if I do, divorced people usually begin saying what they think I want to hear. They tell how crummy their ex was in order to justify the earlier divorce, so now it’s fine to proceed. Meanwhile, the new partner sits there nodding away.

If I play that game, I get nowhere. I might as well go ahead and marry them on the spot.

What I need to do instead-and it’s quite a trick-is to help the person really understand what happened in the first marriage. The place to start is psychological rather than doctrinal. I must peel back the layers of what went on before in such a way that they are confronted and don’t end up repeating history.

So I’ll say to the partner, “Have all of your questions about why he/she was divorced been completely answered? Is any area still unclear to you?” I’ll lean forward and stare right into the person’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

Often they start to back-pedal. “Well, there are a couple of things I’ve wondered about. … ” The conversation gets more and more honest the longer I play devil’s advocate.

Then, when I finally say, “Let’s take a look at what the Bible says,” people are ready to grasp its logic. They can see why God put it the way he did.

Leadership: Harold, what’s really going on inside divorced persons who want to remarry? What should pastors understand about them?

Smith: Some divorced people simply want to get married before their ex does-it’s almost a race to the altar-“I’ll show him I don’t need him.” That’s a danger.

For others, it’s a matter of legitimizing sex. I’m stunned by the number of people who get married a second time based on hormones. Then three months into the marriage, they find there’s nothing there.

But many times, remarriage has nothing to do with sexuality; it boils down to finances. There’s almost no way in our economy that divorced people can live on a single income, particularly those with children. Any church that takes a stand of no remarriage can’t just stop there; it needs to underwrite its theology financially. You must be ready to help that person be faithful to that point of Scripture.

Wise: Would that be as true for men as women?

Smith: Yes, because if they’re making regular alimony payments and child support, they’re financially strapped, too. Personally, I think that’s one reason living together has grown so dramatically.

Of course, it’s true that often women are in the tougher situation. The average divorced man in the United States pays alimony only fourteen months. So thousands of single mothers have no income-and along comes another man, and the second marriage has nothing to do with “biblical ideals.” It’s a financial arrangement.

Wise: That’s interesting. We’ve started helping some women in our church pursue legal action against former husbands, and they’ve been getting fairly decent settlements. It does change their emotional outlook. You can see a sort of sigh of relief, like “Finally-some breathing room.” When the church puts more strength behind the woman’s capacity to endure financially, it gives her the ability to be more responsible emotionally.

Smith: Your comments reflect the Oklahoma situation. But the law of the land is changing, particularly in California, where the courts now have only one mandate: joint custody. Theoretically, parents can never move away. Judges can force children as young as one or two to spend Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday with Mom and Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday with Dad. That’s the direction courts across the country are moving.

Also, the women’s movement has had an influence. Sometimes women must pay alimony to the husband. Occasionally the woman will abandon the children. One of my friends called her ex on her way to the airport and said, “I just got a great new job in Chicago. The kids and house are yours. See you later.” Suddenly he was the sole active parent.

Leadership: What other Bible passages, besides Matthew 19, shape your views of remarriage?

Boyer: Deuteronomy 24, of course-where the man gives his wife a certificate of divorce, sends her away, and she remarries another man. God then says that if her second husband divorces her, or if he dies, she cannot go back to her first husband because “she has been defiled.”

There are two interesting things about this. First, this doesn’t mean God institutes divorce. Deuteronomy 24 is simply telling what was happening in those days.

Second, somehow the woman was defiled by the second marriage. In Romans 7:3 Paul says if your husband dies, you’re free to remarry. But in Deuteronomy, you can’t remarry the first husband even if the second husband dies. It appears to me that even though she was divorced, she had no right to marry the second man, and because she did, she was defiled.

Smith: Another way of understanding that passage is to study what it meant to those it was written to. In that day, people didn’t know that sperm died; they thought it lived forever. That was why a woman was defiled-not because she was an awful person, but because in the future no one could guarantee which sperm had impregnated her. In Old Testament society, it was critical for a father to know a son was his offspring because he was passing his seed-an important concept then.

Old Testament marriages were primarily for procreation, for passing along the inheritance. Today’s marriages are relational. I think this adds a dimension to how we understand the living Word of God.

Wise: And in the Deuteronomical code, women were essentially property, so that the real problem of adultery was not the spiritual fracture but the confusing of property. It was a case of “You blemished my goods, so now you owe me.”

Boyer: Another, less confusing passage, is Malachi 2, where God talks about “your wife by covenant” and says he hates divorce. The word covenant is most important. In Joshua 9, we see that covenants are binding even when made under false pretenses. In God’s sight a covenant is not, should not, and-perhaps we may say-cannot be broken.

Leadership: How about the New Testament? Does it imply marital covenants cannot be broken?

Boyer: Mark 10 and Luke 16 both say that if you divorce and remarry, you commit adultery.

Some use 1 Corinthians 7 to justify desertion as biblical grounds for divorce. I reject that, because the word divorce is not used, and verse 11 specifically says if you leave, you must not remarry unless you come back to your previous mate. Saying desertion is grounds for divorce seems to me to be adding to what Christ said.

Lastly, Paul says that if you stay with your mate, you have the possibility of winning him or her to the Lord. But if you leave, what possibility is there?

So we’re back to Matthew 19. And even there, some good Bible scholars will say that immorality, in that passage, refers only to divorce, not remarriage. In other words, you can divorce for immorality, but you cannot remarry for any reason without committing adultery. I’m not sure where I stand on that, but it certainly seems to fit with all other Scripture.

In my view, Scripture teaches that the only possible basis for divorce is immorality, and I’m not sure that’s a biblical basis.

Smith: I respect that. We’ve made adultery grounds for divorce. In actuality it’s grounds for forgiveness.

Boyer: That’s what Hosea is all about. It shows that God forgives immorality. Hosea goes back to Gomer.

Wise: Interestingly enough, I agree with you on Matthew 19, Hardin, but with a different twist. I agree the covenant cannot be broken without adultery. But I see that describing what happens emotionally, not what happens legally.

When Jesus says you cause her to commit adultery, he’s not returning to Mosaic law. He’s describing an emotional and psychological reality. God’s intention for marriage is an intimate relationship between one man and one woman. When that is shattered, regardless of who the guilty party is, the effect is the same as adultery: the man and woman will reach for intimate relationships with someone else. These may not be sexual relationships. But people will find a place where they can be affirmed and heard in the depth of their being. When a spouse destroys that, it develops elsewhere.

Leadership: Then how do you respond?

Wise: Divorce is a very, very undesirable thing. But once it has happened, I find that the scriptural response is one of grace. As a minister, my job is to bring healing, to help the people see this as a grace situation.

It’s not unlike what happens in war. I cannot find it in Scripture, nor in myself, to say it’s right to kill in war (though a lot of churches get very good at that in wartime). I think killing is killing. But salvation isn’t given you because you somehow avoid killing-it always comes as a gift of God. No one is righteous.

I may be forced to go to war and kill, but that doesn’t make it right. Nor is divorce right. But in both cases, God’s grace can still come to me, and that’s the bottom line of Jesus’ ministry.

Speas: But should we sin that grace abound? Should we have a clever scheme of getting a divorce, marrying someone else, and saying, “It’s OK, God will forgive me”?

Wise: If I do that, I have violated the whole meaning of God’s grace.

Boyer: I think we need to make a distinction. Divorce is wrong, but it doesn’t mean a person lives under God’s judgment for the rest of his life. Like any sin-a wrong thought or desire-God can wipe it away.

But yet Paul says in 1 Corinthians 7 that sex is something special, that if you join yourself to a prostitute, you somehow sin against your body in a way unlike other sins. So adultery is a particular and different kind of sin. God forgives, yes, but still there are consequences.

That’s what Christ means in Matthew 19 where he says you become one flesh. How can you divide that? You cannot have a divorce without ripping up the oneness of a person’s being. He’s never the same again.

Smith: Some Christians love proof-texting, and we keep going to certain passages like Matthew 19. But I look at the context of Matthew 19.

It says, “When Jesus had finished saying these things. . .” What things? Matthew 18 is all about forgiving a person seventy times seven. And later in Matthew 19, Jesus says, “Not everyone can accept this teaching, but only those to whom it has been given.” Then he talks about eunuchs-in a biblical sense, those who are not sexually active. My wife’s decision to divorce me made me a eunuch-not physically by castration, but by requiring sexual inactivity nonetheless. I’m remaining that way.

Jesus says, “Those who can accept this teaching should accept it.” I don’t think he was implying this is a great standard for everyone. The gift of celibacy is for those who can accept it. But there has to be another way for those who don’t have that gift.

Speas: I respect your opposition to proof-texting, but I do believe the Bible is a technical book, and it’s one I need to follow. In that I have security.

I do agree with you that divorce doesn’t mean you must remain celibate-if the divorce was for reason of immorality or desertion.

1 Corinthians 7 says that if the unbelieving partner departs, let him depart, and the brother or sister is not under bondage. I understand that to mean not just the bondage of remaining married to that person, but also the bondage of remaining single. God says it is not good for man to be alone. I personally believe every person ought to get married, and the exception is now and then. I think it’s God’s intention for everyone-because he’s made us that way-to live a married life biologically, psychologically, and spiritually.

Smith: What you have just stated is what I call the marriage myth, the notion that everybody ought to be married. This is what puts divorced people in such a bind.

You’re saying yes, we want creative singleness, but what you’re really saying is, “Too bad you can’t be in first class.” Pastors radiate this to a congregation, they model it, and everyone gets the idea they need to be married to be a whole person. And if you then tell divorced persons they don’t have a biblical basis to remarry, you heap up guilt and frustration. They’re trapped.

If a church takes a hard stand against divorce, it must take an equally high view of singleness. We must tell singles they can live life meaningfully. Peter says, “His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness.” Singles need to know they can live their lives redemptively, and it can be the greatest way they’ve ever lived.

Wise: Listening to this last exchange, I sense there’s a different approach to Scripture operating here. Not to put us in camps, but I see one group coming at divorce using Scripture as a technical book, a legal guideline. The other group comes at Scripture as an indicated direction.

We agree we need both spirit and law, but perhaps our differences center on whether we see the Bible more as law or more as spirit. Maybe this explains our divergence. There isn’t a single biblical view, but biblical views.

Leadership: That raises an interesting question. Within our readership, we’ve seen pastors take positions ranging from no remarriage except for widows and widowers, to remarriage only if the divorce was for certain reasons, to remarriage only if there’s been repentance and there’s good reason to believe the second marriage will work, to the position that “my job is to minister unconditionally to all who come, no questions asked.” How do you account for such a spectrum among people who all point to Scripture as their authority?

Smith: I see two principles at work. First, the only reason the church kept one position for so many years was because of the strength of a hierarchy. Today hierarchy is out; networks are in. It’s a consumer’s market where if a person doesn’t like what you teach/preach/model, he’ll go to the church down the block.

Second is “daddy’s daughter syndrome,” which means it doesn’t matter what your theology of divorce is, it will change if your daughter gets divorced. In my denomination, within a twelve-month period, six daughters of top-echelon leaders got divorces, and suddenly policies were reconsidered. It’s not as strong with “daddy’s son” for some reason. But with a daughter, daddies suddenly identify with the problem.

I don’t mean their revisions are self-serving. One man said to me, “For thirty years of ministry I had Matthew 19 down to a T, and then my daughter got divorced. I sat in my study for days and cried, remembering what I’d said to hundreds of people over the years. Those faces kept coming back to me, and I couldn’t help thinking, My God, what will I do if somebody says all those things to my daughter?”

You can’t ignore 1.8 million divorces each year. By sheer numbers, policy begins to change. For example, fifteen years ago, you couldn’t find two Southern Baptist churches that had single adult ministries, especially with divorced people participating. What a contrast today.

And a new wave is coming. Right now the economy is so bad a lot of people are stalling. They can’t afford a lawyer. But as soon as the economy picks up, we’re going to see an avalanche of divorces in this country, perhaps as high as three to four million for a year or two.

The church had better be ready. We have to adapt. It’s like Charles Wesley’s hymn says: “To serve the present age/ My calling to fulfill;/ Oh, may it all my pow’rs engage/ To do my Master’s will.”

Speas: I’m personally willing to face any situation and try to find what God’s Word says about it. Sometimes my interpretations change, not to accommodate the situation, but because the situation challenged my thinking, and I was able to see something new in Scripture.

But someday, will I try to accommodate a society that doesn’t believe in marriage and says, “Sure you can live together-that’s just fine”? If I liberalize my views of Scripture, I could. But if I continually seek to refine my interpretation while holding to the authority of what the Bible clearly says, I won’t.

Wise: I think that’s one point where we all agree. None of us wants to accommodate Scripture to the culture. Once we let social statistics dictate our understanding of Scripture, we’re back to the German church in 1932, and that’s a frightening specter.

So at least we’re all trying to maintain biblical integrity, even though we may see things differently.

Leadership: What do you think, Harold-has daddy’s daughter syndrome swung the pendulum too far?

Smith: I don’t know. I think the real problem is that we want black-and-white answers. I don’t believe we’re going to solve the divorce/remarriage crisis by taking Matthew 19 more literally.

The only solution is a better job of teaching marriage, a better job of preaching singleness and accepting singles so they don’t feel pushed into marriages, and more ongoing counseling.

As I see it, the five important questions every pastor needs to ask are:

1. Have you forgiven your ex?

2. Have you forgiven yourself?

3. Has enough time elapsed for healing and reconciliation? (at least two years, in my opinion)

4. Is there any unfinished business from this interval period?

5. Is remarriage God’s will for you?

One important issue we haven’t talked about is children. How do our policies on remarriage affect the 12.5 million children in the United States being raised by a single parent? What do they mean to a mother of three children who doesn’t have a strong male figure in the home? God never intended one in five families to be headed by single women.

Sometimes remarriage is the lesser of two evils. True, it doesn’t exactly fit the biblical perspective, but because it is providing an active surrogate father in a child’s life, it does have value in the Christian framework.

Boyer: Culture has a tremendous impact on us-just look at how we’re dressed here today. Coat and tie aren’t necessarily the best, but here we are, all conforming.

At some point, however, the church has to take a stringent stand: Here is exactly what the Word of God says, and this is how our body of believers is going to operate. If you give people an out, they’re going to take it.

Leadership: so you feel allowing remarriage undercuts the stand for strong marriages?

Boyer: I don’t think there’s any question. Who of us doesn’t find someone more attractive than our present wife? You can always find problems with your wife. Maybe she is a horrible housekeeper, maybe she has committed adultery, maybe she’s been in an accident and is paralyzed from the neck down. But if you’re committed to marriage, there are no outs.

If the church doesn’t take a stringent view on the sacredness and holiness of marriage-well, we certainly won’t get any help from the world.

Leadership: Is the concept of an innocent party, a “victim of divorce,” useless in dealing with requests to remarry? Or does it have a bearing?

Boyer: There’s no such thing as an innocent party. Anyone who’s done counseling knows that in marriage problems, two people are involved. Maybe the guilt is only 25 percent on one side, but does that give a pastor the freedom to remarry that person?

Then the next person comes claiming innocence, but you know he was 50 percent guilty. Do you refuse to remarry him? That’s where Harold’s question of inconsistency is exactly right.

Smith: The idea of innocence was a struggle for me because at the time of my divorce, I was a minister. If I had insisted I was the innocent party, I could have remained a pastor. But in my judgment, I couldn’t do that. It’s true that Jane left me, not vice versa. But when I began to deal with all the ways I’d failed her as a husband, there was no way I could point the finger of guilt at her alone. So I went ahead and surrendered my credentials.

And I don’t think healing really began to happen in my life until I admitted my guilt. That’s one of the best gifts you can give divorced people: helping them assume responsibility. You can’t help a person who’s always tattling on someone else.

Speas: I don’t know about the word innocent, but I do know that some people come who are at least willing to reconcile once we start talking seriously about that option. Even if the marriage cannot be reconciled, the personal relationship with the ex must.

One lady went to her former husband and actually got down on her knees to beg forgiveness for her part in the failed marriage. He wouldn’t listen-in fact, he married someone else six weeks later. But her conscience was right before God and before her husband.

In my mind, I would call her innocent and would think she has the right to remarry. The 1 Corinthians 7 passage says let her remain unmarried or be reconciled. The reason for remaining unmarried is so you can reconcile. When that possibility no longer exists, a person is free to remarry. Until the spouse remarries, we must patiently exhaust every opportunity to reconcile.

Leadership: If the spouse remains single, how long must a person try to reconcile before you would agree to another marriage?

Speas: Our policy is only when reconciliation is no longer possible-when the other spouse has remarried or died. The only two exceptions are if an unbelieving spouse has clearly deserted the person or is living a lifestyle of immorality.

Leadership: How about a Christian leaving a Christian? How long should one person attempt to reconcile?

Speas: I couldn’t enter a premarital counseling relationship with such a person at all until the spouse dies or is remarried. As Harold pointed out, we need to help these people find creative ways to live happily as singles if we can’t succeed at reconciliation.

Smith: I feel there’s a time, however, to let go of the past. This idea of perpetual reconciliation can be devastating, especially to women. Even in evangelical communities, we have what I call “ex-sex.” The man comes around to spend the night, and the woman thinks, It means he still loves me. Nonsense; it just means he wants some action, and she’s available.

Dangling the hope of reconciliation in this kind of situation is only harmful.

As much as I love Jane, there had to be a time I let go of her. She had made her choice, she continued to make choices, and I had to go a different route. There’s still love in my heart for her, but it’s on the back burner.

There comes a time when you let go and move on.

Boyer: I would disagree. I think it’s the opposite of what Scripture teaches. The whole point of Scripture is to do everything possible to bring the couple back together.

I’ll admit I’ve counseled some women to separate-if their husbands were physically abusing them. I think self-preservation is biblical, an instinct God has given.

But if people are willing to work at it, tremendous things can happen. I don’t want to sound overly pious, but I believe that through prayer, God can work miracles and restore marriages that had no emotions left but bitterness and hate. I’ve seen it happen.

Smith: I’m not sure there’s a set answer. But whatever happens, the church must be there to affirm these people. We’ve made terrific progress in eight years. When I went through divorce, there were no singles groups and maybe five books on the subject. Now churches are standing with the divorced.

What bugs me are churches that subtly shun divorced people, which sends them right into that second marriage, desperate for intimacy, for someone who’ll make them feel like a whole human being again. Churches that don’t support the divorced have to assume responsibility for the fact that 57 percent of second marriages fail.

Leadership: If you do officiate at remarriage ceremonies, how should they differ from marriage ceremonies?

Smith: Too many second marriages are in front of the minister and maybe one or two other people. There’s no celebration. We need a way to genuinely celebrate that out of the ashes, these people are rebuilding their lives. I’d like the congregation to be there, to stand with these people. Sometimes the second time around, after they’ve gone through hell and come back smelling like smoke, they understand more what the vows mean than two eighteen-year-olds do.

When the prodigal came home, they slayed the fatted calf. I was at one ceremony where 500 people showed up, and the groom, an older man who’d never been married, told his bride: “I’m accepting you as you are, and asking you to accept me as I am, blemishes and all.” It was a moving thing, an example of what redemptive grace can do.

Wise: What makes the difference is being in the context of the church. That’s what’s wrong with many marriages-first or second. They’re not in the context of the church-they’re only using the building.

We had a wedding at the church not long ago in which both people were divorced. They had gone through the whole process of identifying their previous failures and accepting new life in Christ. They had met each other in the context of the church, their lives had been changed there, and so they wanted to be married there.

I preached on marriage that Sunday morning, and then instead of giving an altar call, I gave a “wedding call,” and these two came forward to make their vows before the whole church. The marriage has to this point been extremely successful and, I would say, blessed by God.

Boyer: We need to remember, however, that the primary purpose of a wedding is not just to get rid of bad emotions and relax and be happy. Our primary purpose is to follow God’s will.

Remarriage may make a person happier, but the greater thing is whether or not he’s doing God’s will based on what the Word of God says.

Wise: God’s will is that divorce never happen in the first place. Once that’s shattered, then you’re talking about God’s will after the fact of his intentional will being broken. We’re in another ball game.

Speas: I was once very liberal about my attitude toward marriage. If a couple wanted me to marry them that day, I’d usher them into my living room, put music on the stereo, and do the ceremony right then. Some of the brides were even in curlers!

But my conscience was stricken. I gave myself to a study of what God’s Word said about marriage, divorce, and remarriage. And for the last ten years, I’ve been living by these stringent rules, rigid as they seem, and refusing to remarry anyone unless I’ve been able to counsel with them for three months beforehand.

In the last ten years, only one such couple I’ve married has gotten a divorce, and that was a case where I bent my three-month rule.

I think God has given me a set of rules to live by that will help people make better marriages.

Smith: I guess I believe in a God of mosaics. Some churches get a sheet of colored glass to stick in the windows. Other churches have gorgeous stained-glass windows made of broken pieces. In the craftsman’s hand, broken pieces have been shaped into a composite of beauty.

I’m not trying to justify divorce, but I’m saying God can take the failure in my life and shape it into the total meaning of what I am to become.

Some people demand solid sheets of glass. But I’m a mosaic. David and Bathsheba were mosaics, too. For their sin, they should have been stoned, or certainly made barren. But in Matthew 1, there they are, smack dab in the center of Christ’s genealogy. When God restores people, he makes changes. He rebuilds broken people.

Pastors

Spiritual Software: Personal Computers Join the Church.

William Welty

It is a typical Monday morning at the Vineyard Christian Fellowship in Yorba Linda, California. A secretary has just finished adding names to what is now an updated church directory of the 3,000-member congregation.

The directory is not just your average church directory, however. Besides the names of everyone who’s involved regularly in the church, it categorizes members by age, occupation, marital status, number of children and their ages, interests, spiritual gifts, and potential involvement in the ministry of the church.

Despite the complexity of the directory, its weekly maintenance is just one of this secretary’s many responsibilities. It took her less than an hour, using a personal computer. Now, if anyone needs a volunteer to help with a specific need, a complete list of possible people can be produced in seconds with the push of a few buttons.

After she has finished updating the directory, someone else may use the computer to finish compiling a complete record of giving by Vineyard members, thus simplifying considerably the task of issuing receipts at tax time.

Later on, another secretary will revise the draft of an outline that Pastor John Wimber will be using in a class he teaches at Fuller Seminary. Despite the complexity of the material, she’ll type the basic draft only once. A sophisticated word processing program does the rest, allowing editing and re-editing without retyping.

Several months age the Vineyard divided itself into small-group ministry sectors. Postal Zip Codes were used as a guide so that people who live in the same neighborhoods could be ministered to with convenience.

Using Zip Codes for sector boundaries makes it easy to send bulk mailings of upcoming events of interest to specific small groups. These small-group ministries, called “kinships,” are scattered throughout greater Orange County and look after the needs of members in a manner reminiscent of the division of the Israelite tribes into groups of tens, fifties, and hundreds.

There’s no doubt about it-the same personal computers that have become so popular in the home and the small business office are now beginning to surface in churches.

As the Vineyard’s experience illustrates, the personal computer has the potential for being an impressive servant in meeting the ongoing business needs of today’s churches. But it can be an intimidating idea for pastors more comfortable with people than print-outs. Let me try to shed some light on this confusing field.

Can’t Tell the Programs Without a Player

To give a quick (and therefore slightly imprecise) overview of the field, let’s just say that there are three basic types of computers on the market today.

On the small end of the spectrum are the mini computers. These little home machines range in price from less than $100 to over $1,000. They’re made by such companies as Atari, Commodore, Apple, Mattel (Intellivision), and others. They usually require the buyer to hook up the computer to a television set in order to see the visual displays. Most purchasers of these units, no matter what they say publicly, really bought them to play video games.

On the other end of the spectrum, there are the multimillion dollar “mainframe” computers. Mainframes are the monsters that keep sending you that overdue bill for $37.50 from XYZ Department Store eight months after you paid it.

In the middle of the spectrum, you’ll find the personal computer. The industry calls them “microcomputers.” They generally range in price from about $6,000 to $10,000. These are the computers most appropriate for church use.

The key terms in computers are software and hardware. Software is the program, the set of instructions, that makes the computer perform a specific task. Hardware is just what the word implies-the nuts and bolts of the computer itself. Well, actually you won’t find many nuts and bolts in a micro, except maybe to hold the cover on. Computer hardware usually consists of four items: a keyboard, a television screen monitor, a disk drive, and a printer.

The keyboard is the tool you use to tell the computer what to do. It usually contains all of the keys you’ll find on a standard typewriter, plus a few more. It’s these “few more” that will cause first-time operators the most headaches.

On some units, the keyboard and the monitor have been combined into one single unit, called a terminal. Combined keyboard/monitor units are handy because they don’t have any connecting cable to wear out. On the other hand, having separate keyboard and monitor allows you to position the two on your desk in a way that’s the most convenient for you. I prefer them separate. It keeps things simpler for servicing the computer, too, when something (inevitably) goes wrong.

The monitor is also called a “console,” or sometimes a “CRT” (cathode ray tube), a fancy term for “television screen.”

Disk drives are the computer’s memory, the electronic equivalent of a file cabinet.

They come in two basic types: flexible disk drives and hard disk drives. Flexible (or “floppy disk”) drives come in two sizes: 51/4-inch diameter or 8-inch diameter. As you no doubt suspected, the two sizes are not interchangeable.

Hard drives use rigid disks about the size of 33 RPM records. Floppy disks are less expensive, but they don’t store as much information. A large church (say, with more than 1,000 members) should consider investing in a hard disk system because it makes handling data much easier.

Also, it’s wisest to buy not just one but two floppy disk drives (you can get by with a single hard disk drive)-one drive to run the programs and the other to store the stuff you create. Things stay nice and orderly that way.

Printers do just what the name implies. They print. They come in two basic types: dot matrix, which produces print that looks like a computer, and letter quality, which produces print that looks like a typewriter.

Two other terms are also necessary for a working vocabulary: byte and RAM.

The capacity of a computer to remember information is measured in bytes. A byte is roughly equivalent to one character. There are about 64,000 bytes (abbreviated 64K byte) available in the average personal computer’s working memory. Some provide more. The computer can permanently store much more than 64K bytes on its disks.

RAM is an acronym for Random Access Memory, the computer’s “desk top” where it electronically spreads out its work. Information from the program is also placed here until transferred back to the disks for permanent storage. Because sophisticated software takes up a great deal of RAM, the more memory a computer has, the better. Most microcomputers come with an industry standard 64K bytes of RAM. The computer loads a copy of the program you are running into RAM from the disk, then performs the tasks commanded by the program.

Between the software, the hardware, and the wizards of Silicon Valley, churches can now purchase computers that will:

Do word processing. These programs can generate virtually any office document needed in church ministry from short letters to book-length manuscripts.

Optional electronic proofreaders, with built-in dictionaries, will automatically spot misspellings and typographical errors. You can even create special theological dictionaries to use for writing those monographs for prestigious scholarly journals. It’s easy to add words like heilsgeschichte and ontological (which you can bet aren’t included in the 22,000-word standard programs).

The optional mass mailing programs can send letters to the deacon board or the entire congregation, inserting individual names in the appropriate places while the church secretary does something else.

Handle routine accounting tasks. These programs can pay bills, handle payroll matters (including required deductions), and keep track of the church budget.

Manage data. Programs can handle just about any kind of information. That means you can assemble that fancy church directory. Using a data management program, you can categorize virtually any amount of data and sort it according to your particular congregation’s needs.

Literally hundreds of different kinds of programs are available, of course, but my opinion is that most churches can get by with having just word processing and a data management program.

How much does this software cost? It varies, of course, but you can expect to pay about $1,000 for both programs.

How much for the computer? Plan on spending from $3,500 to $6,000 for a basic system, not including software, but including a dot matrix printer. Add another thousand or so for a letter quality printer.

What to Look for

When shopping for a church computer, sometimes small but important things are overlooked.

Have the person who will be using your system the most sit down and try out the feel of the keyboard. This would be the secretary, for example, if you’re mainly interested in processing letters and church bulletins.

Is the control key easily accessible? With some word processing programs, you need to hit the control key quite often. The control key is something like a second shift key. Just as the shift key turns the keyboard from lower case to upper case, so also the control key turns the keyboard from alphabetic character input to command input.

Unfortunately, some systems (such as the Kaypro II and the Apple II) place the control key where it is difficult to use repetitively for continued word processing commands. The Xerox 820-II conveniently eliminates operator fatigue by positioning dual control keys on each end of the space bar, a feature that secretaries who use the system for prolonged periods of time will appreciate.

Another thing: make sure the sales people who introduce you to the system do not undersell you. Unscrupulous dealers will sometimes sell you just enough hardware or software to get you hooked (sometimes at a great price), knowing that you’ll be back later.

The solution? Get a comprehensive bid before you buy. Get some practical business thinkers in your congregation to take bids from several companies. I suggest that your computer purchase bid include the following as part of the comprehensive deal:

1. A complete hardware system. Make sure the bid price includes: keyboard, console, dual disk drives (I recommend eight-inch floppies if you’re a church with less than 1,000 members), and a good printer, preferably letter quality. My personal preference is the Xerox 820-II system.

2. A complete software system. In my opinion most churches do not need a custom-made $16,000 church management software package. Off-the-shelf business packages usually do everything necessary and at a fraction of the cost.

Make sure the package includes both word processing and data management programs. For word processing, I recommend WordStar, with its optional SpellStar proofreading program and MailMerge program for repetitive documents. All are manufactured by MicroPro International in San Rafael, California. (No, I don’t know why they don’t put spaces between the words in their names. Sometimes it’s best in this industry not to ask too many questions.) WordStar is the most powerful of the text editors, and the entire package retails for around $800.

For data management, if a church is willing to take the time to train its people to use it, DBase II, made by Aston-Tate, is my recommendation. It can do basic accounting and can create sophisticated management routines that do everything the custom-made packages do-at no extra cost. It retails for around $800. MicroPro also markets a program called DataStar, which isn’t as sophisticated as DBase II, but it’s simpler to learn and operate.

If a church buys both word processing and data management programs from the same retailer, it will generally get a discount on the complete package.

3. A maintenance agreement. Things break down. Have the salesman add a maintenance agreement good for one year to the bid price. Most of the factory warranties are only good for ninety days or so. Ask if loaners are available if your system goes down for more than a day. If they say yes orally, have them say yes in writing.

4. Post-purchase follow-up. Make sure they are willing to commit themselves (orally and in writing) to adequate training on your system, including the use of your software. And don’t be afraid to tell them you are going to define when that training is adequate. You’re the customer, and you’re paying for a service. Get your money’s worth.

5. An adequate amount of supplies. You can usually get the seller to throw in a box or two of continuous form paper and a box of printer ribbons as part of the deal, and maybe even a box of floppy disks as well.

Buying Strategies for Churches

If you’re seriously considering a personal computer for your church, your best strategy will probably be determined by the size of your congregation.

1. If your church has less than 600 members, consider purchasing a system with a 51/4-inch floppy disk. If you expect to be growing as a church in the next few years, avoid a system with built-in drives. You’ll have to sell your entire system in order to expand your ability to keep track of your members. Better get a modular system, such as the Xerox 820-II or the IBM Personal Computer. As your church expands, so can your system.

2. If your church is between 600 and 3,000 members, consider a system having 8-inch floppy disks. Go with a letter quality printer and you can produce a justified margin for your church newsletter and bulletins, using WordStar. (WordStar will even allow you to produce two-column printing for a professionally typeset look.)

3. If your church has more than 3,000 members, go with a hard disk system. You can store everything you need to run your system on hard disk, with access possible almost instantaneously. Expect to spend around $10,000, though.

One last point. Once you have your system-or better yet, before you make your final decision- talk to your dealer about user’s groups, local clubs composed of personal-computer owners. By going to one or two meetings you can usually get a pretty good idea of how practical the system you’re thinking of buying really is.

The salesmen usually don’t follow you in there, so you can ask questions of real owners without any fear of product hype. Most of the time you can even get some “hands on” experience without salespeople around. Just remember, though, owning a personal computer is like joining a cult-no matter what system anybody else has, unless it’s the same one you have, it’s bound to be wrong.

At first glance, the world of computers can appear threatening. But if you take your time, ask lots of questions, and refuse to be hurried, your church may find that adding a machine to the ministry gives you more time to spend with people.

SIX OPTIONS

Here is a quick introduction to six of the literally hundreds of personal computers available today. The brand name, manufacturer, and a few comments are listed. Unless otherwise indicated, all systems have a capacity of 64K bytes RAM, feature both upper and lower case, and use a screen that can display twenty-four lines of eighty characters each.

A typical suggested retail price is also included, but these are known to fluctuate due to keen market competition. As they say in the car ads, “Use these figures for comparison.”

Apple II

Price: $2,000 to $7,000, depending on options. Color monitor optional. Terminal is 40 characters by 24 lines; 80 by 24 available as option. Lower case optional at extra cost. Manufactured by Apple Computer, Inc., 10260 Bandley Drive, Cupertino, CA 95014.

Comments: Popular among first-time users of business computers, it’s more accurately described as a hobby-toy turned pro. Awkward for word processors to use for extended periods due to poorly placed control key. Business owners may soon feel they have outgrown this system.

Apple III, a more advanced system (which as a complete system retails from $5,000 to $8,000), is also available. It has 256K bytes RAM and a few more features.

One important thing to remember about Apples: they are notorious for being absolutely incompatible with anything else on the market. Be prepared to become electronically addicted to Apple-based software if you buy this system. Virtually no one else’s products will interface with Apple products. As one Apple executive remarked, “Apple is compatible with Apple. Period.”

IBM Personal Computer

Price: $2,000 to $6,000. 256K bytes. Color monitor optional. Manufactured by IBM Information Systems, Box 1328, Boca Raton, FL 33432.

Solid reputation of IBM’s experience with mainframe computers behind it. Offers a wide selection of software.

Kaypro II

Price: $1,800. With optional dot matrix printer: $2,300. Built-in 9-inch green phosphorus CRT. Configured to run on optional (available at extra cost) battery pack. Manufactured by Non-linear Systems, Inc., 533 Stevens Avenue, Solana Beach, CA 92075.

Similar in design to the Osborne I (next paragraph), except its designers stacked the dual 51/4-inch floppy disk drives on top of one another. This allows for the larger, 9-inch built-in CRT, thus alleviating eyestrain. Has same control key difficulties as Apple II. Comes with Perfect Writer (a word processing package somewhat easier to use than WordStar, but not as sophisticated) and other selected software.

Osborne I

Price: $1,800. Built-in 5-inch display monitor, 52 characters by 24 lines. Uses dual 51/4-inch floppy disk drives, placed one on either side of CRT. Manufactured by Osborne Computer Corporation, 26500 Corporate Avenue, Hayward, CA 94545.

A briefcase-sized portable, at least in theory. Users may find it a bit bulky to carry handily; nevertheless it remains a powerful portable system. Can run on auxiliary battery pack. Built-in monitor is small-5 inches-and users usually wind up spending more money on a larger CRT. Nevertheless, an excellent system.

Radio Shack TRS-80 Model II

Price: $7,000 to $12,000. Built-in 12 inch b/w monitor. Manufactured by Radio Shack, 1300 One Tandy Center, Fort Worth, TX 76102. One of the first companies to market a truly personal computer. Several different models are available, mostly characterized by differing memory sizes and options. Not as simple to operate as Apple II but it can do more.

Xerox 820-II

Price: $3,000. Hard disk drive system with 8 megabyte capacity about $7,000. Monitor 12-inch b/w. Manufactured by Xerox Office Products, 1341 Mockingbird Lane, Dallas, TX 75247.

Designed with office users in mind. Keyboard controls functionally placed, with control keys placed to both ends of space bar for operator convenience rather than following a commonly accepted engineering standard to the left of the letter A. If your secretary will be word processing for hours on end, this is the system to buy. Toll-free 800 number accessible during business hours for user help provided as part of purchase price.

William Welty is a research consultant in Anaheim, California.

- More from William Welty

Pastors

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER

Paul D. Robbins

Time magazine recently published a cover story about the stress epidemic in our country. It gave evidence that stress is a major contributor to the six leading causes of death: coronary disease, cancer, lung ailments, accidental injuries, cirrhosis of the liver, and suicide. The three best-selling drugs are Tagamet, a medication for ulcers; Inderol, a medication for hypertension; and Valium, a tranquilizer. Two-thirds of all office visits to family doctors are prompted by stress-related symptoms.

If you are a pastor or other person involved in Christian ministry, this information comes as no surprise. Most of your counseling appointments are sought by stress-saturated people. As one pastor put it, “Stress passes through my study like a never-ending parade.”

Although the theme of this issue is church politics, the secondary, unarticulated subject matter is stress. The major topics-church politics, staff conflicts, dealing with deacons, also remarriage and death-all qualify for Hans Selye’s list of the 100 most important causes of stress, the kinds of stress that gravitationally engulf the parishioner as well as the pastor. How do we work in the epidemic and not catch the disease? How do we usher stress through the study and not through our soul?

I’ve been fascinated with the kinds of stress Paul describes in 2 Corinthians 11. First he lists the external kinds: beatings, bandits, persecution, shipwrecks, stonings, floods, poverty, and hunger. Then he lists the internal kind: “the daily inescapable pressure of my care and anxiety for all the churches!” (v. 28, Amplified). It’s hard for me even to imagine the trauma of shipwreck or the pain of rent flesh from a whip; however, sleepless nights over troubles in the church I quickly grasp. I find affirmation that Paul included anxiety in the same paragraph with beatings and stonings.

An analogy that has helped me understand the relationship between internal stress and malfunctions in my ministry is mining. It’s a dangerous occupation. Without warning, explosions can rip through a mine and snuff out all life. Tons of coal and rock can suddenly shift and crush miners, or trap them in dark, airless tunnels. But the greatest danger, and the one that claims the most lives, is black lung; it is a fatal form of emphysema caused by years of inhaling coal dust. This metaphor has helped me realize it’s not just the explosions and avalanches but also the dust of stress that saps my spiritual strength and causes ministry malfunction. It’s the “small stuff” that makes breathing so difficult.

Recently I compiled a list of things that can hover over me like a dust cloud. I was amazed and embarrassed by what bothered me: ugly stares from “almost finished” tasks; petty irritants in interpersonal relationships; emotional tendonitis from stretching “just a little farther”; fear of being unprepared; guilt from “faking it”; fatigue from making just one more decision. This is my dust-the dust I inhale while working in the mine.

Time asked Dr. Robert Eliot, a cardiologist from Nebraska, about his rules for stress. Eliot replied, “Rule No. 1 is, don’t sweat the small stuff. Rule No. 2 is, it’s all small stuff. And if you can’t fight and you can’t flee, flow.” This doctor’s advice has more than a ring of truth if we qualify it in the following way. We cannot see all stuff as small stuff unless we view it from God’s perspective. To see the problems and stresses of each day from his line of sight requires proximity to him.

Prayer must flow through our lives constantly, washing away the dust of stress. Prayer is the pure, sweet breath of the Spirit. Paul could quiet the buzzing in his head by “praying without ceasing.” He could calm the palpitations in his chest by exclaiming, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

Though the stress epidemic swirls about us in an ever-accelerating frenzy, intimate, continual communion with God makes all things appear as they really are-totally secure in his sovereign hands.

Very practically, this means that as soon as our cares appear, they must be transformed into prayer. They are highly explosive, and if we keep them in our hands too long, they will tear us to pieces. When we turn our cares into prayers, real transformation takes place, as with everything we bring to Jesus Christ.

* * *

Last quarter, Harold Myra announced our plans to develop a new magazine to help wives in ministry. He invited your ideas for this publication and offered $250 to the person who first suggested its eventual name.

Thanks for your response. Many sent multipaged letters offering many suggestions and titles. One pastor’s wife wrote, “I think this new magazine is just what I need. So many of the conferences I attend with my husband offer little for wives, except shopping trips. I want to be well equipped, and I’m constantly looking for material that will give me a practical expression of God in my life.”

This publication will be issued bimonthly, starting in January, 1984. You should see the first advertisements by September. We solicit your prayers as we seek editorial staff and resources.

We’re also happy to announce the name-PARTNERSHIP: The Magazine for Wives in Ministry. The first persons to suggest this name were the pastoral staff of First Evangelical Free Church of Fullerton, California. Pastor Charles Swindoll will be taking the church staff to a celebration dinner at our expense. Thanks, Fullerton Free Church, for such a great name.

And thanks again to everyone for your great responses!

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

- More from Paul D. Robbins

Pastors

How Can I Deal with Grief?

John Redhead

Several years ago a group of doctors known as neuropsychiatrists met for their annual session. It was my pleasure to be present and one of the papers read was entitled “Grief Reaction.” It interested me to know that these doctors were concerned with what happens to a member of the family when the shock of bereavement strikes, and I felt that here was a theme to which a minister might well give thought. So our topic has to do with the problem of grief.

It is a somber subject of course. There is a line in Tennyson’s “In Memoriam,”

Never morning wore

To evening, but some heart did break

and who knows when you may be forced to face the burden of sudden bereavement? Moreover, it is possible that there are those who do not see the beauty of this day because past grief shuts out the sunshine. In looking for light upon our darkness we go back to a text from our Lord: “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Christ wants us to learn to accept grief as one of the facts of life. There is a false way of looking at things which would have us believe that life is all sweetness and light, and that any trouble which intrudes upon our happiness is not real and has no place in the scheme of things. But our Lord could not be hoodwinked by any such juggling of the truth. He looked the facts in the face and he saw that in the kind of world in which we live trouble is bound to come. He said it as plainly as words can make it: “In the world we shall have tribulation”-period. There is no way you can shuffle the cards and deal it out. It is there, and it is there to stay; and the part of wisdom is to see it, and to accept it, and to make up your mind calmly that grief is bound to come.

I wonder if you saw that amusing touch one of the writers reporting the Walker Cup Golf Matches in Scotland gave his article? He said that the American players would face not only the hazards of the Old Course at St. Andrews, but also cold and probable rain and a lazy wind. He went on to describe a lazy wind as one that was too lazy to go around and so it went right through you. It is not otherwise with the trouble that causes grief; it may go around you for a time, but sooner or later it will go right through you. In the world, whether you wish it or not, “ye shall have tribulation.”

I went once to visit a friend whom I had known in college. In the meantime he had married and established his home where there were two children. He told me that several years before he and his wife had lost a child, just two years old. At first he was bitter and said over and over to himself, “Why did it have to happen to me and not to someone else?” Later on, he realized that there was no good reason why he should expect to be exempt, and that he then said to himself: “Why shouldn’t it happen to me?” Then he found not only the deep peace which comes from acceptance, but the strength of the presence of God, which his bitterness had formerly canceled.

So then in dealing with the problem of grief, the first step is to learn to accept it as something that is bound to come.

The second step lies in seeking to understand the nature of the experience.

Our doctor friends can help us by pointing out reactions which are altogether normal, and so make us willing to be patient with the slow healing process of time. I remember once having a conference with a wife who had lost her husband. She told me she had accepted the loss, but that her problem lay in having no interest in life. Later on I discovered that disinterestedness in life is altogether normal and to be expected. It made me wish I had known that fact at the time, for it would have helped her. As one expert puts it: “We should anticipate these stages in our emotional convalescence: unbearable pain, poignant grief, empty days, resistance to consolation, disinterestedness in life, gradually giving way under the healing sunlight of love, friendship, and social challenge, to a pattern of action and the acceptance of the irresistible challenge of life.”

Another characteristic of grief so common as to be mentioned by the doctors, is that often grief is accompanied by intense feelings of guilt. The sorrowing person blames himself for not giving the deceased proper care during a period of illness, for failure in some obligation, or for being responsible in some way for the cause of death. You would know how real is the anguish, if you had ever been with such a person at such a time, and had seen the look of agony on his face, and heard him say, “If only I had done this or that, it might not have happened.” The reminder that you were never consciously negligent and that you always did the best you knew, plus the remembrance that a sense of guilt is often a characteristic of grief, will help lessen the load.

Oftentimes I have found another form of the sense of guilt. We are so wedded to the Old Testament idea that adversity is necessarily a sign of sin that we suppose our sorrow is God’s punishment for some evil of ours. At that point it is well to remind yourself of this fact, that while all sin brings suffering, all suffering is not necessarily due to sin. The proof of that truth lies in the picture of Christ: he was sinless, but he was not without suffering. You will divide your grief in half if you can succeed in separating from it any sense of guilt

The doctors also tell us it is important that grief be allowed to express itself. It is an emotion, and if it is bottled up and not allowed to come out it will cause a nervous restiveness and do physical damage. Rabbi Liebman puts it like this: “When we face the loss of a dear one, we should allow our hearts full leeway in the expression of their pain. … After all, we were given tear ducts to use for just such hours of darkness.”

III

“In the world,” said Jesus, “ye shall have tribulation.” In the light of that fact, we would first of all accept, and then try to understand the nature of the experience. Our Lord does not stop there, however; he goes on to say this other thing: “But be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” Having made allowance for the minus that is in life, he suggests that there is a plus, and he would have us accentuate the positive. When the first shock of grief is past, it is right to begin to think about the plus.

We should remember that whatever we lose, we can be grateful for what we have already had. I heard the late Dr. Albert W. Beaven of Rochester say what this truth meant to him. He said that his seven-year-old little girl died and he and Mrs. Beaven seemed altogether unable to overcome their grief. There were so many things around the house which reminded them of her-her room, her playthings, the vacant chair at the table; and whenever they saw these things they were reminded of their loss. He said their grief was leading them further and further into gloom, and he realized that something would have to be done to preserve their health. Somehow he got hold of our truth and he said to his wife: “Instead of thinking of what we have lost, let’s begin to think of what we have possessed. We have had seven years of joy from this little girl’s life, and nothing that has happened can take that away from us.” And so from then on the things that reminded them of their little one were made to speak of what they had possessed instead of what they had lost. On that ladder they climbed out of grief into gladness.

There is a further fact which makes all the difference in the world for the Christian. Remember that if you have lost one whom you love, he is not lost. If this is really God’s world, then we are under his care whether we live or whether we die. Much as we miss those we love, we can rejoice that they have found their true home in the love of God. As Marcus Aurelius put it: “It is pleasant to die, if there be gods; and sad to live, if there is none.”

Here is a man named Walter Lowen who lost his wife and who wrote something of his experience for us in the March, 1955, Reader’s Digest. He says:

Let me tell you what the doctor who attended my wife did for me as I stood dazed and lost at the foot of her bed, knowing not only that the 37 years we had had together were over, but feeling also that all meaning had gone from life forever. He took my arm and held it for a moment. And then he said in a matter-of-fact voice: “You’ll see her again.” That was all.

But it was all I needed to hear. That simple gesture and eloquent statement reminded me of the one thing that has been given to us to help us bear such separations from our beloved: the resurgent and ever-present ability to believe in immortality.

The idea of immortality is the strongest lifeline to the grief-stricken. In my case I could, from his words on, think of the separation of Selma and myself as temporary. Everything that sustained that belief sustained me. Three of my friends somehow knew the almost morbid sensitivity that one in grief has; they sent flowering plants instead of cut flowers, so that the idea of continuance of life and not its brief blooming would be suggested.

As our Lord put it in the long ago: “I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.” What life is like in that land that is fairer than day we do not know, but we do not need to know; we know only that he is there, and that is enough. When a sharp pain struck the heart of Peter Marshall and he was being carried out into the night on a stretcher, he looked up into the face of his wife Catherine and said, “See you in the morning, Darling.” It is the Christian’s faith that though the night be dark and long, the morning will surely come, and with it a blessed reunion.

There is a fifth and final thing to be said. The belief in immortality is sound, and we have a right to strengthen ourselves in its assurance. Yet it is unnatural and unchristian and unhealthy to fold our hands and sit still and spend our time gazing into heaven. When our Lord stood with his men on the Mount of Olives and was taken up out of their sight, they went back to their job of carrying on for him. They did their best to do what he would have done had he remained with them. They were consciously loyal to the One they had lost and sought to continue his life vicariously in their own work. As they did so, they were saved from the dangers of self-pity and they found the genuine satisfaction of helping to make life better for other people. Here is something, I think, for the rest of us: we can become, as Rabbi Liebman puts it, “ambassadors of our departed, their messengers and their spokesmen, carrying out the mission for which they lived and strove, and which they bequeathed to us.”

The late Rufus Jones had only one son, Lowell, who died at the age of eleven, but the boy continued for forty-five years to be a dominant influence in that great man’s life. Jones’s study at Haverford included many photographs of the learned and famous, but the central place, over the mantel, was always occupied by the portrait of this boy. Rufus Jones felt that he had to live for both himself and his boy, and in this he succeeded to a remarkable degree. Writing more than forty years after the occasion of his sorrow, Rufus Jones told of the boy as follows: “I overheard him once talking to a group of playmates, when each one was telling what he wanted to be when grown up, and Lowell said when his turn came, ‘I want to grow up and be a man like my daddy.’ Few things in my life have ever touched me as these words did, or have given me a greater impulse to dedication.”

Here then is the problem of grief as seen in the light of our Christian faith. You can accept it as one of the facts of life and do your best to understand it. You can remind yourself of what you have possessed, instead of thinking only of what you have lost. You can rest in the Christian’s assurance of life after death and look forward to the morning of reunion. Then you can go back to your task as an ambassador of the departed. There is hardly anyone as far along as middle life who does not have one he loves there in the unseen. It may be a wife or a husband, or a mother or a father, or even a child, as it was with Rufus Jones. In the sacred silence of this moment you recall all the loveliness of that life and you know the things he would be doing were he here today in the flesh. There then is the final answer to your problem. You can substitute for him. You can step into his shoes and take his place and carry on for him. And as you do, the darkness will become light and the night will brighten into morning and you can say with our Lord, “I have overcome the world.”

- More from John Redhead

Pastors

THE EASY YOKE

Dr. Paul Brand with Philip Yancey

I have often heard sermons on Matthew 11, verse 28 or verse 29, but seldom has the sermon given equal weight to both verses. The reason? They seem to contradict. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” Jesus calls out. But he continues, paradoxically, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.” Taken together, the two statements jar. Why would a person who is weary and burdened volunteer to take on a yoke?

The most common suggestion for resolving the dilemma is that oxen work in teams, and Jesus shares the other side of the yoke. But I see no hint of that explanation in the Bible passage. I have, however, spent much of my life studying “weary and burdened” living tissue in a country, India, where yoke and oxen are commonplace. Because of those experiences, I think I now understand this passage.

In India, I worked as a surgeon, mainly with leprosy patients. Leprosy is a disease of the nerves, and its victims do not feel pain. As I treated infected ulcers and shortened fingers and toes, I had to work backwards to figure out what particular stress caused those tissues to break down.

Hundreds of patients had damaged their feet by wearing shoes or sandals that had a tiny rough spot protruding. Step after step, that rough spot ground against the skin, yet these patients’ defective pain cells did not warn of danger.

To my surprise, I learned that most of the damage came from small, repetitive stresses like this, not more obvious stresses like bruises, cuts, or burns. Any gentle stress, when applied to a single spot repetitively can destroy living tissue. A bedsore is the clearest proof: an insensitive patient will get terrible ulcers just by lying still on the same pressure spot, whereas a person who feels pain will toss and turn throughout the night in response to messages from fatiguing nerve cells.

Conversely, too little stress also affects living tissue. Cells need exercise. Without it, they will atrophy-a condition common to anyone who has worn a plaster cast. I once treated an Indian fakir who had held his hand over his head uselessly for twenty years, as a religious act. The muscles had shrunk to nothing, and all the joints had fused together so that his hand was like a stiff paddle. Healthy tissue needs stress, but appropriate stress that is distributed among many cells.

Those principles apply directly to the stress caused by a yoke on the neck of an ox. In the hospital carpentry shop in India, I helped fashion such yokes.

If I put a flat, uncarved piece of wood on an ox’s neck and use it to pull a cart, very quickly pressure sores will break out on that animal’s neck, and he will be useless. A good yoke must be formed to the shape of an ox’s neck. It should cover a large area of skin to distribute the stresses widely. It should also be smooth, rounded, and polished with no sharp edges, so that no one point will endure unduly high stress. If I succeed in my workshop, the yoke I make will fit snugly around the ox’s neck and cause him no discomfort. He can haul heavy loads every day for years, and his skin will remain perfectly healthy, with no pressure sores.

And now, I think I understand the strange juxtaposition of phrases in Matthew 11:28-29. Jesus offers each of us a well-fitted yoke, of custom design. He does not call us to the kind of rest that means inactivity or laziness-that would lead to spiritual atrophy. Instead, he promises a burden designed to fit my frame, my individual needs, strengths, and capabilities. I come to him weary and heavy-laden. He removes those crushing burdens that would destroy any human being, and replaces them with a yoke of appropriate stress designed specifically for me. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,” he says, “for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

-Dr. Paul Brand with Philip Yancey

- More from Dr. Paul Brand with Philip Yancey

Pastors

MY CHOICE OF BOOKS

William Pannell

William Pannell recalls the road signs that have steered his thinking.

I discovered books late in life. Our home, like others in our neighborhood, was not literary, the margin of survival a bit too narrow for book acquisition. I recall my astonishment when I enrolled in Bible college and discovered the other students’ shelves of books. I couldn’t believe they owned them all. At eighteen years old, a personal library had never been part of my life. I hadn’t realized the loss.

The only exception was a book I came across shortly after my conversion at age sixteen: the Book of Ephesians. It was my first exposure to God’s family planning and the first time I felt the exhilaration that comes from knowing I had been chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world. What joy for a teenager trying to find himself in a society where already he felt alien.

Bible college exposed me to some theology, most of it eminently forgettable. What impressed me most was a small volume (the title escapes me) which told the stories of “famous” Christians from William Carey onward who initiated the great missionary thrusts of the Western church. In retrospect, the stories were more romantic than factual in crucial areas, but they served to stimulate my thinking about “the regions beyond” and the price God’s people have paid to proclaim good news to the nations.

Books became even more important to me when I entered full-time evangelism. James Stewart’s A Man in Christ became a solid basis for studying the life of Paul and the central themes of his theology. It also provided much sermon material, as did Stewart’s Heralds of God and A Faith to Proclaim. These books combined good scholarship, fine writing style, and a warm evangelical tone.

Around this same time, I came across the writings of Ruth Paxson. Her Life on the Highest Plain and her work on Ephesians, The Wealth, Walk, and Warfare of the Christian, extended my exegetical and devotional horizons. By now, I was deep into an evangelistic/revivalistic ministry, and for a fledgling evangelist, good sermon material was priceless. Paxson’s work was seminal and served to counter or at least balance some of the more unsavory aspects of rigid Wesleyanism picked up in Bible college.

Yet revival was my passion, and it was in this mood that I welcomed my first exposure to Charles Finney. His autobiography was fascinating, and his Lectures shaped my thinking about the relationship between the means and ends in revival. Helpful, too, was Oswald Chambers’s My Utmost for His Highest. I was attracted to Chambers’s no-nonsense view of spirituality, a robust, wholesome discipleship often missing in other devotional writers.

The sixties were exciting. And demanding. It was not a good time to be black and evangelical. But the decade was notable in forcing a clearer understanding of the relationship between evangelism and social ethics. My debts here run the gamut from Mennonites to Martin Luther King, Jr. Stride toward Freedom, King’s early work, was sobering and provided a necessary breakthrough in my thinking regarding the larger dimension of the church’s mission in the world. The climax in this early exposure to social ethics was King’s masterpiece, Letter from a Birmingham Jail. From here, it was a small step to the discovery of James Baldwin, the historical writings of Lerone T. Bennett, Jr., and J. Saunders Redding’s On Being Negro in America. W. E. B. DuBois, Langston Hughes, and others led me to see “the Promised Land” more clearly and how the cultural lobotomy performed on all Americans had so tragically affected our images of one another.

I was much attracted to the writings of the old Puritan divine John Owen, especially the book The Holy Spirit. Again, the emphasis on hard thinking and good biblical exegesis served to balance the earlier exposure I had in a revivalist tradition.

Toward the end of the decade, I was greatly helped by Theological Ethics, Vol. 2 by Helmut Thielicke. This fine work gave needed perspective on church tradition vis- … -vis society and the pastoral function of the church in steering its course past the extremes of false conservatism on the one hand and false revolutionism on the other.

This period was for me a time of transition. I came alive to literature of another sort-the novel as social commentary. Here, Walker Percy’s work was important. The Moviegoer set me up for his more recent work, The Second Coming, a remarkable commentary on American cultural values and the search for religious certitude. While not a novel, Lionel Trilling’s published lectures, Sincerity and Authenticity, have been helpful in giving a perspective on the evolution of cultural values. Most impressive.

More recently, I’ve been working on theology. Here I am greatly affected by a range of offerings-from Allan Boesak’s Farewell to Innocence, which is a fine statement of evangelical black theology out of South Africa, to Hans Kng’s On Being a Christian and Does God Exist? with their apologetic possibilities, to Geoffrey Wainright’s Doxology and its radical centering of theology in the church’s acts of worship. I am also in debt to Lesslie Newbigin for his insight on the need to rethink mission theology and strategy in the light of the increasing gaps between Western and non-Western cultures. His work is entitled The Open Secret.

This list could go on at length. But this pleasant walk through the past has reminded me of the sources that have influenced my mind and heart and hopefully, set the course my pilgrimage should take.

William E. Pannell is associate professor of evangelism and director of black ministries at Fuller Theological Seminary, Pasadena, California.

- More from William Pannell

Pastors

War and Peace in the Local Church

Terry Muck, Dean Merrill, and Marshall Shelley

An interview with Lynn Buzzard

Chess board and pieces in a chess game.

Lynn Buzzard was not yet out of Duke Divinity School when he faced his first political dilemma: the largest donor in his student pastorate quit giving. A third of the church's budget suddenly evaporated.

"My basic nature in those days was to run from conflict," he notes. "So I didn't say anything to the man; I just resented him and felt persecuted. I learned secondhand what the problems were: he found me too conservative … and I hadn't visited his son in the hospital enough. (I've always suspected it was more the second than the first!)"

The little North Carolina church survived, gradually replacing the lost income, and so did Lynn Buzzard's ministry. After pastoring a second church near the seminary, he returned to his native Pacific Northwest to work with the Christian Medical Society and also to co-pastor Bothell United Methodist Church outside Seattle. When invited to teach at Northern Baptist Seminary near Chicago, he accepted and also served as associate pastor of the Village Church of Western Springs for six years. His wife is still the church's director of Christian education.

Since 1971, he has been executive director of the Christian Legal Society and an articulate spokesman for the church's role in reconciliation. As part of CLS's Christian Conciliation Service, Lynn Buzzard has personally been a mediator or arbitrator in about thirty-five different church disputes. He is the author of four books, including Tell It to the Church: Reconciling Out of Court, and has three more in process. To complement his ministerial training, he is now finishing his law degree at DePaul University.

On the morning after the Chicago mayoral election with Harold Washington's victory still echoing in the air, Terry Muck, Dean Merrill, and Marshall Shelley sat down with Lynn Buzzard to talk about politics in the local church.

Is church politics an evil to be expelled, or an unfortunate necessity?

Your question almost assumes that politics is distasteful; I'd rather take an optimistic view. Politics, to me, is simply the means by which we govern ourselves, make decisions, allocate resources, and determine the sense of the body.

I know the word politics is used to describe the many abuses of the process, the back room wheeling and dealing. Politicking especially is used by anyone who doesn't like the result! It's a label for saying a decision wasn't spiritual or was the result of "power" (by which people mean they lost).

What's a nicer synonym?

I hesitate to choose one, because it might be a word just as loaded the other way-a very religious word, something soft and sweet. I'd rather have us recognize that decision making in the church is not just about sweetness; it is in fact about power, about choices, about competing values, self-interests, noble ideals, anger, and all the rest.

This is especially true if a church has any character of mission. If a church is more than just a koinonia group-if it in fact is moving toward something, then there's going to be debate about what that something is and how we get there and who's going to lead us. These are political issues-questions of governance-and there's no need to try to sanitize or spiritualize them.

Many leaders take it as a sign of personal failure when there's a fight or hassle in the church. "If I'd done a better job, this wouldn't have happened. Where did I go wrong?"

I disagree. In fact, I believe a certain level of ongoing conflict or tension probably ought to be part of the church-again, if it is attempting anything important, and if anybody has strong feelings about that.

I could almost argue that a church with no conflicts is the one suffering from weak pastoral leadership. Either the pastor is failing to inspire anyone enough to care, or he's repressing conflict, or-the most common situation-he's encouraging an avoidance of it.

Eventually, of course, the lid blows off such a church, and I grant that that is an indictment of leadership for not encouraging openness at an earlier level. The pastoral task is not to prevent but to intervene, to manage conflict productively. It's what you do with conflict that counts most.

We haven't developed a very good theology of conflict in the church. We've talked so much about unity and peace. Nobody ever says, "Wouldn't it be nice if we had a few quarrels?" But when you look historically for the great moments of the church-the kind of things we make movies and write books about-they're chock-full of angry, bitter conflict! No one ever hails those quiet times when everybody was having wonderful potluck suppers together.

But didn't Jesus pray that we all would be one?

There surely must be a difference between the high goal of oneness and political unanimity. I was in a Bible study not long ago where we were discussing Romans 13:13-"Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, … not in dissension and jealousy," and one lay person commented that dissension and dissent might in fact be quite different things. No dissension, we concluded, is where the body struggles with what it's going to do and finally settles on a plan of action-and those who might not have chosen that plan decide not to be disturbers of the process from that point on. They may choose to wait to fight another day-which is legitimate-but they recognize that the body has made up its mind, and from that point on, they do not create dissension.

This is one of the most healthy kinds of oneness, because it's wholistic. It's not just a unity of those who remain after all the others have trotted off to other churches. And it is quite different from unanimity, which says, "We're not going to do anything until everyone agrees." It is a post-conflict kind of unity, based on more than just "Birds of a feather flock together."

One usually doesn't go down to the Republican party headquarters and cheer everyone present for being Republican. The miracle of the church, indeed, its "born-againness," is that its unity emerges from separateness, differentness, the alien and stranger being brought into citizenship in the kingdom of God. That's what the Jerusalem conference of Acts 15 was all about, by the way. Unity becomes precious when you walk through conflict in order to reach it.

So conflict is good for what it produces?

Yes-and I'm not even sure that conflict isn't occasionally good in itself. In a sense, it expresses that something important is going on. It helps people clarify what they really believe. It causes people to realize, "Hey, there really are two ways to look at this, aren't there?"

One person has said that conflict empowers. It gets us out of our lethargy and forces us to identify. Paul's confrontation with Peter in Galatians 2 brought some very strategic issues to a head.

Saul Alinsky (not a noted theologian, I admit) has a line that intrigues me: "Change means movement, and movement means friction, and friction means heat, and heat means conflict. You just can't get the rocket off the ground discreetly and quietly."

There's a lot of talk in the church these days about leadership through consensus. Many people are discussing it, yearning for it, trying it. Can they succeed?

I tend to be troubled by a view that says, "We won't do anything unless everyone agrees," or to put it in spiritual jargon, "until the Spirit has led everyone to a sense of peace about this." I find no biblical warrant for it. Certainly the prophets didn't reduce truth or action to the least common denominator they could get everybody to buy.

This view seems to impede the role of leadership and give the veto to the blocker, the most irascible person in the group. The theory, of course, is that such a person finally senses how the wind is blowing in the group and yields. Maybe so-but the blockers I've met are not usually impressed with what the 90 percent want! They seem to thrive on being dissenters.

If by consensus one means that people do yield to the will of the group and that, in turn, the group will not proceed so long as there are members who would be seriously disturbed by such action-that's better. But I still say that the best church decisions are the ones about real values, real goals, and real differences. And these are not always compromisable.

If you are in a church business meeting and a vote comes out unanimous, the common interpretation is "Praise the Lord-we all agree." But are there alternate interpretations?

Certainly. Most of us know how to draft resolutions in such a way as to hide potential disputes. If we said, "Resolved, that we begin construction on a new building at Fifth and Main," there might be a huge debate. So instead we say, "Resolved, that a committee be formed to study the projected space requirements of our ministry." Of course, we intend to pack the study committee from the start.

Or we put the hot items last on the agenda, when everyone's tired and has already expended their energy fighting over the drinking fountain. Some members may have already gone home.

My question is: Does unanimity reflect a substantive unity, or is it merely artificial due to the masking of issues?

Another scenario: You're in a business meeting, and a vote comes out 77 percent in favor, 23 percent opposed. A common interpretation would be, "Oh, well, you can't please all the people all the time. Jesus Christ himself couldn't make those diehards happy."

I think it depends on who the 23 percent are. They could be, as you suggest, a group of angry, bitter people. But they could also be a group of frightened people, unwilling to venture into a new ministry, perhaps afraid the church will lose its beloved building, or something else. Maybe they reflect a serious, fundamental problem in the church that should serve as a caution light. You don't know until you talk to them, hear them out, find out the context from which their objection springs, understand their view of the issues.

I worked recently with a church where the pastor was under considerable pressure from the lay leaders to resign. He wanted to go to the membership for a vote of confidence. The constitution required a two-thirds vote to kick him out. I talked with him ahead of time and said, "Please don't take a vote on this issue-what will it prove? If you get 40 percent of the vote, leaving 60 percent of the people opposed to you-is that a win? What if you even get 60 percent? Can you continue to lead the church if 40 percent of the people have the nerve to vote against you? Rather, let's finish the process of hearing one another and dealing with the issues that are bothering people."

What happened? Did the church take your counsel?

No. The conflict had gone on for a long time and had turned into a power struggle. The pastor knew he could "win" a vote, so he called for it. He got 55 percent.

A large portion of the lay leadership left the church as a result. I'm afraid the effectiveness of that congregation has been destroyed for a generation or more. And, given its location in a changing urban neighborhood, that may be enough to kill the church altogether. The tragedy is that there was no fundamental question here, no theology at stake.

What should they have done instead of vote?

The better way would have been to follow a process that leads to reconciliation. A process acknowledges the conflict and provides the means to clarify the various concerns, values, and ideals of the parties. The various formalities give people time and space to understand each other better.

That's what law does, by the way. We don't resolve our problems cowboy-style by shooting it out at high noon. The face-off still happens downtown at noon, but each party has a lawyer who goes before a referee, and at least everybody gets to shoot.

In the church, we haven't thought enough about the value of formalized process as a way to diffuse heat but also channel our energies. The point is not to stop people from having strong feelings ("Shame on you-why don't you love the brethren?") but rather to channel those feelings appropriately. That's why a number of us have written books on this subject, to show how to move from "Bill's always been a cheat" to "Bill took $50 this week" to Bill saying, "Well, let me explain what happened."

Maybe at the end of the process, if the issue really is about mission, you do take a vote. But maybe you won't need to; maybe the people will have ventilated and then sought for middle roads so that a solution has become clear to all. You don't know until you try.

You've told us one of your failures in reconciling a church. How about a success story?

We dealt with a church that had some internal splits and, simultaneously, a conflict with the denomination. They were debating whether to pull out of the larger body, and if so, who would get the property. So there were elements of finance but also theology; everyone was running around saying who the true church was, and it was quite a mess.

Our first step was to say, "You know, it really is important to talk about your theological commitments-but it's not essential that you be in total agreement. Settling the current dispute does not require that you come up with a consensus statement on theology." That was a new thought to most of them. It was quite all right to have differing commitments; what mattered most was hearing each other carefully, grasping why each side valued what it did and how it felt the other side had lost an important emphasis.

We didn't get everyone to agree on who was right and who was wrong. We focused rather on how to move ahead in ways that would be least destructive to the community of believers. As it turned out, they actually didn't agree. There was no burst of enlightenment that said, "Hey, we actually do agree-I just didn't realize it." The congregation did divide-but amicably and with a sense of respect for each other. They worked out a process for talking about money, property, denominational loyalty, and the other issues.

We managed to break the problem up into pieces and then look for solutions rather than consensus. In that type of conflict, consensus was impossible. But the two streams of conviction found ways to not only survive but prosper.

The Christian Conciliation Service has been involved in a number of Presbyterian cases like this, and in every case where the presbytery and the local church have agreed to let us help, we have been successful in working out a solution.

You mentioned not reconciling theological differences. Were these major issues of theology or just gnats and flies?

Well, I'm not sure if there's a saying about one man's gnat being another man's elephant (laughter) . . . but that's the problem: to the dissenter, a critical item of faith, the touchstone of the whole issue, is perceived by the other side to be secondary and even "divisive." Majorities always label aggressive minorities "divisive." It's meant to be an insult.

In the church I mentioned, it was clear that theology-as loaded by their histories-was an unsolvable problem. So we moved on to what could be solved.

Is this kind of element unique to church conflicts, or does ideology play a similar role in other disputes you work with?

Not nearly as often. That's why church fights are usually the toughest to reconcile. You might think that personal spats are the worst-not true. It's fairly easy to deal with two businessmen who say one or the other hasn't kept his word or has done shoddy work. It is far harder to deal with people who speak not merely for themselves but for God! "This isn't a personal thing, you understand-I'm concerned about what Abner and Sophie Johnson had in mind when they poured out their life savings to build this church" or "I'm concerned for the future of evangelicalism" or whatever. (Abner and Sophie may have had in mind a whites-only church, too, but that doesn't mean we ought to respect their wishes.) The ideological load makes it much more difficult for people to yield. Compromise becomes a dirty word.

If someone were to flatly say, "Look, I've wanted to be chairman of the board for five years, and you're shafting me"-well, that's fairly easy. The guy is angry, and you know why, and so you can deal with it. But too often in the church, everything is larded with ideological talk-"The Lord has led me to . . ." The most minor kinds of human decisions get baptized. If you sit in a business meeting and pray for the Lord to guide a vote, what conclusion can you draw but that the result of the vote is God's decision, even if it's about the width of parking places.

But you still believe theology is important?

Absolutely. Look at the Christological conflicts in the early church. The lines had to be drawn. That's why sometimes churches do need to split. They have two different commitments, and they can't go in the same direction. They're like a Rotary club that has traditionally worked with the blind . . . but now 40 percent of the members are saying, "We'd rather help kids with cerebral palsy." Why try to talk them into staying together? Let them go their separate ways and each fulfill an exciting mission.

Of course there are nicer ways to split than many churches do, but the need can be legitimate.

Sometimes the conflict is not really about theology but gets layered with it. For example: "Shall we stay here in the city or buy property in the suburbs?" That involves philosophy of ministry, but it involves a lot of other things. It involves letting Mrs. Jones say that she's worshiped in this place for fifty-three years in the pew paid for by her mother. Well, that's a legitimate feeling and needs to be expressed.

But other times, ideology has nothing to do with the conflict; it is merely a smoke screen.

Yesterday was the finale of a particularly heated campaign for mayor of Chicago. Is church politicking as intense as secular politicking?

Worse! At least that's what employees of Christian organizations tell me. The reason is that nobody acknowledges its presence.

We had a debate in our church recently about whether to spend a considerable sum on a new organ. Since there weren't very many mechanisms for dealing openly with feelings and opinions, we suddenly had coalitions building all over the place. Wouldn't the money be better spent in the inner city? But what was wrong with using our hard-earned prosperity to the glory of God? Behind the scenes, the politicking was vigorous. We ended up buying the organ, but the process could have used a lot more airing.

A second factor is that church people can't seem to talk self-interest language. We don't say, "I'm hurt." We say, "I don't think it's the Lord's will that . . ." or "God wouldn't be able to bless us if we . . ." In the business world, if people are hassling about who's going to get the corner office with the windows, nobody hides it. In the church, we don't dare be so straightforward.

It's not that we make a conscious decision to beat around the bush. We have just grown up assuming we should rephrase personal feelings in religious language. In politics, it's tough to lose, but you make your concession speech, lie low for a few days, and then go on with life. In the church, you have to keep looking spiritual no matter what. Thus, a loss is not just a tactical defeat; it's an assault.

What are the most damaging kinds of strife in a church?

The quiet ones. The submerged, diffused, unacknowledged conflicts that smolder for years and years. If the institution is not willing to grab hold, debate, decide, reconcile, split, or whatever needs to be done, the issue becomes a cancer within. It eats at the body's vitality, consuming its energy, spreading until the case is terminal.

Give me a genuine theological donnybrook any day. At least you know what you've got and can set up a process to deal with it.

How do you draw out the silent, sinister things?

This is where pastoral leadership can model the idea that conflict is OK. I have a pastor friend who says it is really important for him to tell his board when he's angry about something. He fusses and argues with them, and yet he is loved. A few people can't handle his style and label him unspiritual, but by and large, the business types on the board understand his kind of language.

Even in the pulpit, pastors can acknowledge differences, treat them with a light touch, and let people know that even though we feel strongly about these things, they're not the end of the world.

One of the most delightful churches I ever pastored had fascinating conflict. We were an old "First Church" congregation that included the mayor, lumber company executives, and so forth-an easygoing group quite happy with a kind of restrained religion. Then the city of Seattle began to expand until we became a suburb, and all kinds of new people joined us. Many of them had a more vital faith; they were part of the lay witness movement, and when they'd stand up in services and share what the Lord meant to them, the old guard would squirm, because they didn't have similar stories to tell.

Then one Pentecost Sunday we dug a ditch out in front and immersed people-a Methodist church! What had happened to our nice, sedate traditions?

And yet, this was one of the most lively, fun, diverse communities I've ever known. The other pastor and I had a commitment to view conflict as potentially good. We vowed not to get trapped with one side or another, but to keep the ferment going and not let people become overserious about it. We'd smile and say, "Yeah, George, some of those folks really are crazy as loons, aren't they . . . I couldn't believe what he did the other Sunday . . . but everybody's different." We led the congregation in not only being tolerant but placing value upon diversity within the body.

How does a pastor acquire the skills to manage conflict?

Before getting to the how, a pastor has to acknowledge a prior premise-that ministry, in fact, includes managing. It's not all preaching; some of it is dealing with institutional reality, helping the institution make its decisions and develop its structures.

If one doesn't see this as legitimate ministry, if one crabs about not having time "to be what I'm supposed to be because I'm so busy managing," about being "stuck in the office," then managing conflict is off to a difficult start.

But once you see that this is part of equipping and enabling the saints, then you are ready to get into some of the how-to literature. Westminster has three different books on the subject: Stress Management for Ministers by Charles Rassieur, The Contentious Community: Constructive Conflict in the Church by John M. Miller, and Church Fights by Paul Kittlaus and Speed Leas. There's also Resolving Church Conflicts: A Case Study Approach for Local Congregations by Douglass Lewis (Harper & Row) as well as my book, Tell It to the Church (David C. Cook).

Books such as these teach how not to get co-opted, which is hard for a pastor. So many people come to him wanting to make sure he "really understands" (which means knowing why they're right).

The books also help with defining issues, handling confidences, managing rumor, and a host of other skills that don't require a graduate degree in conflict management but can be stored in the brain for the time when they're needed.

What do you think about the use of prayer in resolving conflict?

I'm against it! (Laughter) Seriously, it's almost a rule: The first person in a dispute to pray or to suggest prayer will be the most troublesome. I'll give you an illustration.

We were trying to mediate a problem between two families in a church. The pastor had worked with them, but the conflict was now spilling over into the rest of the congregation. The first lady who called me to get involved was full of religious language about trying to find the Lord's will, and when I arrived at the first meeting of the parties, immediately she wanted to pray-even before the other folks showed up. That was a clue.

I said, "No, I really think we really ought to wait until everyone's here."

"Well, I think we're going to have some problems with them," she replied. "We need to pray for them."

"Well, we'll wait for them," I said.

Her husband then turned and said, "You know, you can pray on your own." So very ostentatiously, almost like a little kid, she folded her hands and closed her eyes . . . while the rest of us sat around the same table talking about football.

When the hearing was all over, she turned out to be one of only two people in the entire history of Christian Conciliation Service who, although having helped pick the arbitrators, refused to abide by their decision. We went through the whole process and gave our best judgment-but the Lord allegedly showed her a verse somewhere in the Old Testament that indicated she ought not to go along.

Obviously, I'm not against prayer. The whole idea of Christian conciliation is that God will help us deal with conflict. But I must distinguish between genuine prayer and using religious ritual as a weapon. So often prayer is used to say, "I don't think you're understanding what I'm saying, and surely it must be because the Lord isn't making it clear to you. So let's stop and call upon him, so you can understand how right I am."

The trouble with using prayer in the middle of a board meeting is that it is often suggested just as the discussion is getting honest. People are finally saying what they've been thinking all night ("You know, you really did lie to me, Jack"), and some nervous soul sees the Spirit slipping away and quickly wants to have a word of prayer. What people really mean is "I'm uncomfortable with how heavy this discussion is getting, and I want to retreat, so everybody bow your head." And it's very hard at that point to say, "No, let's not." The key moment is lost as the one side co-opts Jesus.

What we need to do in conflict is talk to each other. God is quite capable of listening to our debate; we don't need to pause and say, "God, are you here?" He is also quite capable of informing our hearing and speaking.

What are the signs that a conflict needs outside mediation?

When the resources of the body itself are pretty much exhausted or disqualified. If everybody has chosen sides, who is left to be a peacemaker? If the pastor, for example, has been pulled off to one trench or the other, or is unwilling or unable to mediate, then outside help is called for.

Another time is when it becomes urgent to have a symbol of hope, a new lease on the possibility of making peace. Groups come to us saying, "We've been struggling with this for three years and cannot resolve it-can you help us?" Our simple presence brings a new burst of energy to try again.

How helpful are denominational officials in mediating local-church clashes?

It depends on whether the issue at stake relates to the role of hierarchy or not. Obviously, if your church is thinking of leaving the denomination, the bishop will hardly be neutral on that question. If the debate is whether to keep using the denomination's Sunday school curriculum, the district superintendent is not the reconciler you need.

Such officials also have trouble in cases involving the pastor, since they are expected to be loyal to the pastor and, in some structures, have actually appointed the pastor to office.

But in other kinds of disputes, denominational executives can be very helpful if they have the necessary skills. They can absorb some of the hostility when people need somebody to get mad at; after all, they can leave town the next morning. At times their familiarity with the church's history ("Ah, yes, I've known the Crenshaw family for thirty years") can be very useful.

But at other times it's better not to have known the Crenshaws. That's where a group like ours has an advantage: we don't know all the troublemakers ahead of time. We can give people a chance to be right for once.

If you're part of a denomination that you feel is adrift, how vigorously should you object? What is pleasing to God in such situations?

I admit I come to that question with a personal load, since I'm a somewhat conservative person ordained in a denomination that is less conservative. At times it is frustrating: one doesn't want to be a naysayer all the time; you'd really like to be able to get behind your group and forge ahead.

But on the other hand, I'm not comfortable with the practice of always checking to make sure everything is pristine pure among the elect. I find myself disturbed by the tactics of some local churches in these battles. After all, what good is it to maintain your purity if you lose your witness? When a church and its denomination wind up in court fighting over property-albeit with spiritual language about "our stewardship responsibility" and "the witness in the community"-I am saddened.

The trouble is, many people in a congregation aren't sensitized to these questions, so they get recruited by fairly inflammatory language. You don't convince somebody that the church ought to take the drastic step of withdrawal by mumbling something about "We have some serious concerns about the direction the national body is taking." You have to sell them: "The national body has abandoned the faith-there are hardly any Christians left at headquarters-they're going to bust hell wide open-we must take a stand for righteousness!"

And so the hierarchy gets equally defensive. They decide they've got to teach those dissenters a lesson, and if they leave, they're not gonna take a dime with them. … Meanwhile, all willingness to negotiate is lost.

I grew up in the Evangelical United Brethren Church in the Northwest, a very conservative group. The Methodists in Washington and Oregon were quite liberal, and when the merger vote came along in 1968, these people had almost nothing in common. Both conferences voted almost unanimously not to merge, but the national tally went the other way, of course.

Many EUBs simply could not tolerate that, so the question became how to leave peacefully. A very responsible settlement was worked out, based on whether the new United Methodist denomination had a loyalist group in a given town or not. If not, there was no sense arguing over a building. They negotiated selling prices in a reasonable manner, depending on how much of the church's past support had come from national sources and how much locally. It was a lot better than screaming and hollering.

A major concern of mine is that people who withdraw from denominations because of their commitment to Scripture sometimes don't act any more scripturally than their opponents. They cavalierly ignore biblical teachings about releasing, forgiving, not suing, and reconciling. I long to hear them say, "We believe we're right and our principles are sound, but we're committing ourselves not to do legal battle, because we have a larger kind of mission in the world." There's something disarming about that; the other side is often embarrassed into integrity.

I'm conservative enough to believe that the differences between various Christian bodies in North America are more than cosmetic. I do admit that some national denominations have largely abandoned their original centralities. Issues of biblical faithfulness are at stake, and it is appropriate to do battle on those real issues. But even warfare has rules.

So what is a fair tactic? Should churches petition? Form ad hoc committees? Publish leaflets?

That's all fine, so long as it's honest. In fact, that's the kind of politicking that is healthy. You write about what you believe; you send delegates to the national conventions, and they engage in lobbying, if you will-"Do you know what's going on with the board of missions? That's why we want to see so-and-so elected this time. We think the missions program will have more integrity this way."

That is a lot healthier than not participating and then just complaining.

Now, of course, at some point you may realize that your work in the political arena is no longer meaningful. There's no point getting 10 votes out of 360 year after year. If you're not being constructive and your cause is not advancing, then you have to make some other decision-whether to withdraw or take another approach.

What about withholding funds as a way of making your point?

If you have a legal responsibility to contribute to the national body, then you must do so. I have seen some extremely questionable maneuvers-secret bank accounts in order to keep the denomination in the dark if and when a split should occur-that raise grave ethical questions.

But if you have no legal obligation, that's another matter. It may, however, be smart politics to continue to contribute so you can then have a voice. You can say, "Look, we're contributors to this mission program, and while you're sending some of the funds to the revolutionary front in Mozambique or wherever, we also want to see an emphasis on church planting."

One of the things that irritates denominational officials, understandably, is that dissenters don't give. "They crab and complain, but they're not in with the rest of us supporting," they say. People in politics know that if you want to be around tomorrow, you have to pay your dues today. That's why Harold Washington could raise campaign money, even though he was hardly the choice of anyone in the traditional Democratic machine in Chicago. People got on board because they were realistic enough to know this wasn't the last vote in town.

The same thing applies to denominations. You keep giving, and you say, "Look, I don't like what you did with the money last week, but you're still my family, and I really hope you'll listen to me next time."

Once you decide you're no longer in the family, however, it's time to start looking for a family you can feel enthusiastic about.

How much should Christians worry about the ultimate use of their donations?

I notice Jesus seemed to encourage giving to the Temple and praised those who gave, even though he held serious doubts about whether the Temple administration was using the funds properly. People who get too fired up about "making sure my money is used right" are in a sense retaining control of their gifts. It's still their money. Giving is rather an act of turning funds over to the Lord, releasing control.

On the other hand, if some cult comes to the door, you don't say, "Fine-I need to give. Here's a thousand dollars."

Pastors often struggle with the financial implications of conflict. After all, if you offend the moneyed interests in a congregation, you can be in quick trouble.

That's right; it's a subtle pressure to maintain a false peace. A conflict can really dry up revenue, especially if there are substantial givers on both sides. My hope is that pastors can identify conflict early enough and deal with it so it doesn't turn into ultimate warfare that hurts the offerings.

If, however, the leadership delays taking action until funds start to be withheld, then a terrible message is assumed: "I got my way by using my checkbook." Once you begin making fundamental decisions on the basis of financial threats, you've got real problems.

But taking the initiative to deal with conflict can be frightening.

Absolutely. The truth is, you will get shot down sometimes, even if you're good at reconciling. John Adams, the Methodist minister who helped negotiate the crisis at Wounded Knee, said, "You can either make peace or get credit for making peace-but not both." It's awfully nice to win the Nobel Peace Prize. But peacemaking skills are by their very character quiet. You are entrusted with information and relationships that can be easily abused. And the instant you go public, you destroy the peace.

If pastors are going to deal with conflict situations in their churches, they need to study their own natures and determine whether they tend to avoid conflict or not. I know I do; I'm not a good fighter, and that affects how I initially respond to conflict. I'd rather run from it, quit my job, look the other way. There are some self-tests now that give clues to one's personal style in this regard, and seminaries are starting to teach more in this area. They've always taught about counseling the conflicts of others (marital, parental, etc.), but now they're adding how to deal with institutional conflict.

Churches can have a substantial ministry in teaching their own people about conflict and reconciliation. That's why my wife and I produced the elective course for David C. Cook. Parishioners must realize that the Bible is full of conflict. The disciples were repeatedly arguing and fussing, and yet Jesus loved them and made use of them. In fact, conflict may be one of the few loci for inserting theological convictions-reconciliation, forgiveness, confession, and many of the other great doctrines.

When we announced a series in our church on conflict between parents and teenagers, the response was amazing. Even people outside the church saw our little ad in the paper and showed up for the sessions. It was obvious that we had struck a felt need.

We must teach about this subject, and we must model our willingness to deal openly with the differences among us. Avoidance serves no purpose at all. It is true that at least one reconciler in the Bible got himself crucified, but we must not be afraid. We must be the agents of healing.

- More from Terry Muck, Dean Merrill, and Marshall Shelley

Pastors

PEOPLE IN PRINT

Making Conflict Constructive

Control in Conflict by John Wallace, Broadman, $4.95

Reviewed by Randy Hines, youth and family pastor, Old North Baptist Church, Canfield, Ohio

No one in the congregation ever sits back and says, “I think we ought to have a nasty church fight.” No, harmony is the ideal expressed throughout the New Testament, but still the battles arise. Imperfect members (and pastors) make conflict inevitable.

On staff at only my second church, I have entered both situations with the senior pastor leaving under unpleasant circumstances. (Forget that phrase; it was severe conflict!)

Control in Conflict encourages Christians to handle their differences constructively and productively. It is an autobiographical approach that has worked for John Wallace, pastor of Parkway Baptist Church in Lexington, Kentucky, for thirty-four years. Maintaining peace, Wallace says, is “a learned discipline to which all Christians are called.”

Don’t think that Wallace’s pastorates have been free of strife, however. He admits to having had three major conflicts while serving churches in Kentucky, Texas, and Oklahoma. “And by major I mean long, hard fights in which the whole church was in a crisis over a period of one to two and a half years,” Wallace adds.

Successful conflict management is possible, Wallace writes, only after altering opinions about controversy. “First, we must begin with a new attitude of willingness to manage our differences constructively.” Other attitude changes include accepting discord as inescapable and seeing benefits in conflict. Wallace gives equal time to the negative side of controversy. He lists hazards of deception, disruption, and discouragement.

Agreeing that disagreements are seldom simple, Wallace has chapters on three main causes of conflicts: confusion, concealment, and control of power. Dealing with confusion is difficult because it “produces frustration; frustration generates anger; and anger blinds.”

Concealment’s “destructive work is hidden by something acceptable,” writes Wallace. “Much of the conflict I have faced has worn an innocent mask at first.” The church is the only arena where some starved egos have a chance for recognition. Pride, guilt, and pain are a few conditions that cause some to complain about one thing while upset about another.

“Of all hidden motives, the most secret is envy . . . a sin no one readily admits,” according to the author. Calling it the meanest cause of conflict within the body, Wallace says envy even plagued the disciples.

There exists an intimate relationship between conflict and the control of power. Wallace cites four areas where conflict arises: from the abuse of power, the assignment of power, the assumption of power, and the absence of power.

A do-and-don’t list includes practical guidelines for conduct in conflict. Wallace suggests we not lose control of our emotions, not deceive, not presume, not retaliate, but rather evaluate, communicate, and pray.

“Of all the losses I’ve experienced in conflict,” he confides, “none has affected me so deeply as the loss of self-esteem.” This loss comes from both second-guessing by self and accusations by adversaries.

Admitting how a conflict and the resulting loss of self-esteem dropped him “into a pit of deep depression,” Wallace records restorative tips: (1) accept affirmation from friends, (2) name your good characteristics aloud, (3) listen to God’s promises, (4) set and accomplish short-term goals, and (5) quit comparing yourself to others.

How often do people unjustly feel ignored, insulted, or indignant? “I’ve had to learn that feelings are as important as facts in relationship-sometimes more so. I’ve had all the facts on my side, but people were against me because I was not sensitive to feelings.”

The final chapter, on controlling conflict, identifies four areas where control is developed: in a person’s spirit (attitudes, feelings); in study (of books and personality); in structure (goals and planning mental reactions); and in strategy (applying resources to the problem).

Not many of us are good at controlling conflict, says Wallace, because too many of us ignore it. We emotionally focus on persons and personalities rather than the problem. Timesaving strategy, he concludes, will involve defining the problem, defusing the emotions of those affected, then deciding on a course of action to resolve the conflict.

Even though Wallace changed the names of those mentioned in his book, you might think people recognizing themselves would be upset. “Not so!” says Wallace. “Over a hundred copies were sold at Parkway Baptist in one day.” So the book did not become the source of another conflict.

Given the sensitive subject matter, that in itself is a commendation of Wallace’s calm, objective approach.

How to Multiply the Ministry

The Caring Church by Howard W. Stone, Harper & Row, $5.95

Reviewed by Roy C. Price, pastor, The Alliance Church, Paradise, California

Former Lutheran pastor Howard Stone has done a lot of thinking about Martin Luther’s emphasis on the priesthood of believers. Of the Reformers, Luther is perhaps best known for his stress on putting the Bible in the language of the people, saying the Mass in the vernacular, and teaching lay people they didn’t need to go through priests or saints but could pray directly to God.

That direct access to God was not to be simply “Jesus and me,” but it means each believer is a minister. Every Christian is called to a caring ministry, “through witnessing, through social concerns, or any number of ways,” says Stone. It is the law of love (the command to love both God and our neighbors) that provides a base for lay pastoral care. “The same selfless love that we undeservedly receive from God, we gratefully return in worship, in prayer, in love to our neighbor.”

While most pastors affirm the priesthood of believers, there are some who subtly resist this emphasis. Stone says that in his eleven years of teaching seminars, pastors are one of the biggest problems. “When someone reports, ‘Pastor, do you know that Margaret Smith is in the hospital?’ the pastor immediately jumps into the car to visit Margaret. Instead, he might ask, ‘What are some ways that you can minister to Margaret? Have you talked with her? How is she doing?’ “

It is because of “pastors’ tremendous compassion that they almost slap lay people in the face” by not having confidence in their ability to minister. Sometimes the pastor feels threatened. If a pastor’s primary ministry is caring, he may feel that it is being taken from him.

Stone says this is one of the biggest obstacles to implementing lay care. Unless the senior pastor is behind the program, it will not do well. While it does not reduce the time of the pastor’s involvement in caring ministries, it does enable him to develop the lives of people by providing satisfying ministry experiences.

“Research has indicated recently that teaching is more effective in helping people learn to cope with life than the equivalent time spent in counseling,” says Stone, citing the book Teaching as Treatment by Carkhuff and Bernson. “The benefits of such a program are thus doubled-the helpers are being helped.”

So, in response to this need, Stone wrote The Caring Church. It’s a training manual. Of the twelve chapters, eight are devoted to an outline of classes in caring, including such subjects as listening and responding, hospital and shut-in visitation, grief, and problem solving and referral. The book presents the content of seminars he has conducted in more than seventy churches ranging in size from 150 to over 2,000. Although he has never personally been involved in rural churches, some of his students have. He is presently professor of pastoral care and pastoral psychology at Brite Divinity School, Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, Texas.

The book could be criticized for seemingly downplaying the place of Scripture in meeting the various needs people face. Stone replies that such helps are available, and he is working on a sequel that covers this matter. “The danger of the ‘conservative’ is to overemphasize the spoken Word and ignore the visible Word; whereas the ‘liberal’ offering pastoral care may overlook the spoken Word in dwelling on the visible Word,” he says. “Both need to be incorporated into the care that is offered. Emphasizing one to the exclusion of the other limits the degree to which one’s ministry can be a channel for the Word of God lo bring comfort, strength, reconciliation, and renewal.”

Before the Bible and prayer are used with people, Stone says, a good relationship must be established so that the Word has life-content to it.

“I like witnessing that is storytelling, where people share their lives with others. Then the biblical message has an impact. People come to ministers and lay-carers because their faith shines through their lives. People sense there is something there. Without the Bible the food is not there.”

Stone is concerned that we “get beyond introductory lectures. Faith is more than just confessing we have a Savior. As a Lutheran, salvation by grace alone is crucial. But now we need to move in the life of the Spirit. In the Reformation there were methods of prayer, spiritual life, and ethical living that we can’t assume today. The church needs to reteach people how to pray daily and to meditate, how to live ethical lives, but also how to care. People need and want spiritual nourishment and opportunities to serve others.”

The book is practical and lay-oriented. It can be a teaching resource for the pastor, or it can be used as a study guide for class members. Stone talks about recruiting lay-care candidates, the size of the study group (10-30), attendance commitment, and field work such as visiting a nursing home.

Suggestions are given for listening and responding in ways that assist the other person’s openness. Confidentiality is crucial. Lay carers must not give evaluative statements such as “That’s dumb” or “You were foolish to tell your husband about it.” Reflective skills are essential: avoiding generalizations, using open-ended questions, describing your own feelings, brevity, and being sure you understand.

There are suggestions for role playing. In the chapter on hospital and shut-in visitation, a script for a demonstration is provided enabling the class to see a typical visit.

A five-step approach is given for problem solving, and specific guidelines are stated for referrals for financial advice, family service agencies, legal advice, medical aid, and psychological disorders.

Howard Stone said his first priority as a pastor was preaching. Second was pastoral relationships. “The lay-care ministry is only one segment of the whole church.”

Most pastors would agree with those priorities. But for those who wish to broaden their people-caring ministries through a trained laity, The Caring Church provides an invaluable resource.

Help for Small Churches

Making the Small Church Grow by Robert E. Maner, Beacon Hill, $2.95

Reviewed by Danny Scott, pastor, Cornerstone Conservative Baptist Church, Columbia, South Carolina

Finally! A word of hope and practical instruction-along with an occasional spiritual prod-to the pastor of the small church. Making the Small Church Grow is for pastors in churches with attendance less than 200 and only one full-time staff person. It comes from a practitioner.

Robert Maner has logged thirty-one years in ministry to small churches both as an evangelist (three years) and a pastor. Presently pastor of First Church of the Nazarene in Valdosta, Georgia, he says, “I was encouraged to write this book because we have experienced some success. We are still not a large church, but we have shown consistent growth over an eight-year period.”

This book fills a void: it is an instructional manual on how to lead a small church into effective ministry. But be forewarned. There are no gimmicks or superficial remedies to be found, no artificial pumping up of sagging hopes. In many cases Maner’s ideas may call for restructuring one’s whole approach to ministry.

Maner’s basic premise is that church growth is the result of a quality ministry. The hackneyed debate over quantitative versus qualitative growth is shelved. “Church growth should be the result of something with a higher motive than just having a larger church. … When we get to the place that all we want is growth for growth’s sake, we are no better than a cancer cell. … Growth should be the natural result of the efficient operation of a church that is doing a superior job. … What we should concentrate on is not growth but quality ministry.” And quality ministry means meeting the needs of people.

When asked how he finds the needs, Maner replied, “You have to know your people and be available. I keep regular office hours during which people know that I am available to share burdens. I’m also active in the city, serving as hospital chaplain and writing for a local newspaper. I’ve developed a file on all the helping agencies in the city by calling them on the phone to discover exactly what help is available. People have learned that when they come to me, they’ll probably find help.”

The key to producing change that will lead to effective ministry is the mindset of people in the pew. “It must happen in their thinking before it can ever happen in fact.” This requires the breaking of chains that, although existing only in our minds, prevent growth. Some of these chains are: smallness (“The size of church we think we are limited to is all in our minds”); denominational label (he rejects the thinking that “if we would change our church name to thus and so, we could be big like them”); the pastor as prophet, priest, and errand boy; inferiority (“We have to convince our congregations that we are as capable as anybody”); and spiritual price (“It is possible for the members of a little congregation to draw self-righteous robes about themselves and almost dare a visitor to come among them. Then they can justify their dwarfed size by this excuse: ‘They just won’t pay the price’ “).

Maner believes in the total participation of the laity in church ministry. This has resulted in a kind of reverse “chain of command,” working from the bottom up. Small group leaders and department heads, for example, have major decision-making responsibilities.

“If the people of the church are taught that they really do have an important place of responsibility, they are far more likely to take their position seriously. If the pastor respects these people, they will feel they have real authority.”

Having laid this philosophical foundation, Maner offers some of the methodology that has proved effective in his ministry. The two key words are emphasize and organize. The pastor must keep the philosophy of ministry constantly before the people, emphasizing the responsibility of every believer-priest to be involved in ministry. Beyond that, the church must organize in such a way that each member has the opportunity both to learn and to practice the ministry that God has given.

“When opportunities are created for Christians to fulfill the gifts of the Spirit and proper emphasis is brought to bear on the subject, things begin to happen. To tell people they have a gift and then not provide an opportunity to use it can do as much harm as good. To preach to people about the needs of the church without providing them with proper training . . . is useless. Why not put the two together as God intended?”

The primary structure for such training in ministry is the small group. Maner’s church, with an average attendance of 233, has almost forty small groups built around needs and interests. Three requirements must be met in order to form a new group: the need or interest must be widespread enough, trusted leadership must be available, and finances must be in order. The balance between flexibility and enough structure to allow success is thus provided.

“At prayer meeting tonight (which, by the way, is only one of seven small groups that meet on Wednesday night),” said Maner in a recent interview, “we introduced two new small groups: a Tuesday morning Bible study and a single adult prayer group on Monday night. One key is to keep the groups small. A group with fifteen people is too large and needs to be divided in order to provide the eyeball-to-eyeball encounter and common ground we need.

“When people drop out, we don’t scold them; we simply start new groups to try to meet their needs.”

One permanent structure is the “Circle of Concern,” a geographical division of church families with a leader who has pastoral responsibilities for those in his group. When asked how “circle leaders” are found, Maner responded, “There’s no easy answer to that. We look for capable people who are not overloaded with responsibilities already. We prefer not to use Sunday School teachers, since they have a built-in group of people they are responsible for.”

One interesting small group is known as the S.W.A.T. team, an acronym for Soul Winning and Testifying. This team is composed of handpicked, well-trained, and dedicated people who take on the difficult evangelistic assignments. “We pick out one person, zero in on him, and stay with it until we get him converted. The team will pray and fast for that individual until something happens in that life.” According to Maner, this method in combination with the follow-up of previous contacts is more productive than the door-to-door “cold turkey” approach.

“Even those who come to Christ in our door-to-door evangelism do not get into the church, mainly because they don’t identify their salvation with the church. But if they’re coming to church when they get saved, they can be integrated into a discipleship ministry.”

Along the way the author deals with three problems endemic to small churches. The first, unfriendliness, often goes unnoticed. “The average small church is not a friendly church. Oh, they say they are, and I suppose that they think they are; but they are not. They are friendly with each other.” Maner combats this problem in his own church by “frequently mentioning it in sermons, prayer meetings, and small groups. We teach our people to make the effort to speak to people they do not know.”

The second problem, traditionalism, also begins with the failure to recognize it. “You have to be aware that you’re in a rut. This means backing off and taking an objective look at the church. We tend to gravitate to our old ways of doing things, and pretty soon we find that too many people in the church are spectators.”

The third problem, motivation, begins with the pastor himself. “You can’t get others to do if you don’t do. You can’t turn others on unless you’re turned on yourself. Most people, perhaps unconsciously, don’t want their church to grow. Change is unpredictable. Most are afraid that their little group is going to be invaded and that they will lose their authority and security. It will take a stronger motivation from God, working through the pastor, energizing and exciting him, and then infecting the people.”

Maner offers no quick fixes. He does lay out some enduring principles to enable the small church to minister biblically and grow consistently. For the beleaguered and bewildered small-church pastor, this book will help.

Affair-proofing Christian Marriages

The Myth of the Greener Grass by J. Allan Petersen, Tyndale, $8.95

Reviewed by Kevin N. Springer, associate editor, Pastoral Renewal, Ann Arbor, Michigan

Joseph rejected a sexual advance by Potiphar’s wife, only to flee her wrath. David committed adultery with Bathsheba, eventually ordering her husband’s death. In Proverbs, young men were warned repeatedly of the wages of marital unfaithfulness.

Extramarital affairs are not a uniquely modern problem.

But J. Allan Petersen thinks that modern trends have contributed to a recent epidemic of sexual infidelity among Christians. That is why he wrote The Myth of the Greener Grass. It describes the reasons for and ways to prevent extramarital affairs, and it suggests ways to repair marriages torn apart by them.

Petersen writes from thirty-nine years of experience as evangelist and marriage and family life specialist.

“In 1957 I began to incorporate marriage and family clinics into my evangelistic crusades,” he says. “The clinics soon outgrew the regular meetings, and I felt God’s call to minister to the family.” In 1975 he organized and directed the Continental Congress on the Family in Saint Louis, an interdenominational meeting of 2,500 leaders that helped stimulate a family movement among evangelicals.

“Everywhere I go,” says Petersen, director of Family Concern, “pastors tell me that people in their churches- frequently leaders-are having affairs. Any problem that increases in society eventually increases in the church.

“Not only is the increased incidence of adultery a serious problem, but so is the increased callousness of Christian leaders regarding it.” Leaders have been influenced by society’s changing attitudes, tolerating behavior by their peers and parishioners that once was unthinkable.

Some Christians, within a culture in which “affairs are as common as a cold,” become numb to the problem; others are massaged into thinking that they are immune to cheating. Petersen attacks these notions.

“Affairs don’t begin on days with red lights of warning blazing,” he writes in a section that analyzes David’s affair. Temptation comes “on any ordinary day. I believe this affair came as something of a surprise to both David and Bathsheba.”

Are pastors just as susceptible?

“Everyone is vulnerable at any time, and any Christian that doesn’t think he is is in trouble,” Petersen said in an interview.

Chapters 3 and 4 provide reasons why partners cheat and describe faulty marriage foundations that create the environment for affairs. Petersen believes that unfaithfulness is a symptom that points to serious problems in one of three areas: emotional immaturity, unresolved conflicts, unmet needs.

Exacerbating these personal deficiencies are false expectations about marriage and love. Unless couples correctly perceive that love “is related to action instead of emotion,” they will be disappointed with each other. “This sets you up beautifully for an affair. If God didn’t bring you the right partner, and your partner and children don’t bring you happiness, why not look elsewhere? Somewhere you’ll find it. And that’s a myth, too.”

The most helpful chapter of the book is on temptation, “your lifelong companion,” as Petersen describes it. He emphasizes that our thought life is key to preventing temptation from flowering into sin: “Our character is cast in the mold of our concentration.”

We must clearly decide that we will not enter into an affair before the temptation comes; to be unsure about our choice now will make us weak and vulnerable when presented with the possibility for sin. “An affair is experienced many times in fantasy before the time and place of the first rendezvous is set.”

By choosing to live by God’s truth now, we avoid being controlled by the emotion of an unresolved will later. “Indecision in a battle spells defeat. … In actuality, a person doesn’t step into immorality because he cannot avoid it. Rather, he does it because he inwardly cherishes a love for it. He has not made a commitment.”

Chapters 6 and 7 are for people whose spouses are having an affair. The author argues that unfaithfulness should not mean the marriage is ruined; a patient response, acceptance of responsibility, and forgiveness are keys for healing. There is rarely an “innocent” party. The author gives many helpful tips for pastors counseling distraught spouses.

All pastoral leaders should read the chapter that describes how the Rev. Douglas Nelson (not his true name) engaged in affairs while leading his church. His life became marked by the fellow travelers of all adulterers: deceit and treachery. As Petersen told me, “The minute you begin to get involved in any way, you become a practiced deceiver, your integrity unravels. You have to become a liar.” Nelson’s story is not pretty, but its lessons will never leave the reader’s mind.

Petersen’s concluding chapter is a prescription for affairs-a list of suggestions, insights, and antidotes taken from his experience that contribute to healthy marriages. This section basically restates thoughts from earlier sections.

One thing I’d add to Petersen’s discussion is the need for good pastoral relationships in addition to open relationships between spouses. Husbands need relationships with their wives that are “in the light,” but some thoughts and struggles are more effectively and appropriately discussed with pastoral leaders, people who not only can listen but also offer authoritative advice and direction.

In my experience as a pastor, I’ve found that most men-especially pastors-who fall into affairs do so because they have no place of personal accountability, a person (in addition to their wives) to whom they can go for help and regular prayer. Pastors need pastors too, and their wives should never fill that role.

When asked what pastoral leaders can do to help people avoid extramarital affairs, Petersen replied, “Pastors need to build something positive in their own marriages, modeling the message. They must be committed to being leaders, not pointers who say, ‘Don’t follow me, follow the Lord.’ They have to get to the positive side of saying, ‘I’m committed to building my marriage. Look at us.’

“If a pastor is a leader who builds his marriage, seeing it is a part of his ministry-not apart from it or competing against it-then his opportunities to help other people are unlimited.”

Something More Than Technique

The Guide to Practical Pastoring by C. Sumner Wemp, Nelson, $14.95

Reviewed by Ron Habermas, pastor, First Baptist Church, Stockbridge, Michigan

There is nothing so exasperating as returning from a pastor’s conference saying, “I could have done at least as good a job leading that workshop!” Your frustration is not so much with the words the speaker used or the communication style. The problem is his lack of ministerial experience. His perception of pastoral life is far removed from yours.

The strength of The Guide to Practical Pastoring is that you know the author-pastor has been there. His vivid illustrations and personal anecdotes could only have come from an experienced pastor.

“After pastoring for fourteen years and teaching pastoral theology for twenty-three, I finally heeded the advice of several people who said, ‘Man, you’ve got to put that in print!’ ” says C. Sumner Wemp, vice president of spiritual affairs at Liberty Baptist College in Lynchburg, Virginia.

The traditional textbooks on pastoral theology, he says, primarily stress such pastoral duties as weddings, dedications, and funerals. But Wemp was not satisfied with that restricted content. For him, there was a missing element, which could be summed up in the dynamic theme of Christian love:

“Love is the key to your whole ministry. People are starved for love. They have been browbeaten most of their lives. They get enough guff at work. What a transformation when they begin to find out God loves them. My, how they are drawn to a preacher who loves them!”

This theme may initially be criticized by some as simplistic. Certainly, it is a frequently heard phrase, and that alone may diminish the impact of the concept.

Yet Wemp rejuvenates this theme of love through several individual accounts from his pastoral work. He not only speaks about love as an imperative, he illustrates how it can be used in pastoral ministries. The text reads like a candid autobiography, describing personal successes and failures. Specific warnings and directives are given. Helpful insights range from the subject of one’s “call” to service, to the planning of a missionary conference, and from the issues of the pastor’s role in church planting to the need for private study.

An entire section of the book is devoted to the normal tasks that pastors are expected to perform. This hands-on portion not only focuses on the appropriate content for such public ceremonies as weddings and funerals, but integrates and flavors these services with the supreme example of Christian love: evangelism. Suggested approaches to witnessing in the context of these ceremonies are challenging.

Why this theme of Christian love in a pastor’s manual?

“Well, I didn’t set out to do it that way. It’s just that one day a friend was introducing me as the guest speaker, and he said: ‘If I were to describe C. Sumner Wemp, I would call him the apostle of love for our day.’ That really affected me.”

Particular target audiences are used to illustrate this all-encompassing principle. At least three examples stand out.

First, Wemp notes that a pastor must love those whom he regularly encounters in his community.

“I honestly believe,” he writes, “that pastors do not really love their people; at least, many preachers do not act as if they do.” What should pastors do? “Tell people from the pulpit that you love them. Then, work at making them happy. Love your people. Exhibit the evidence of that love. It will take nothing more to build a great church.”

This quality is especially necessary for those beginning a new outreach in the community. “A deep desire and divine love for a community must be in the heart of a potential pastor. John Knox set the pace when he prayed, ‘Give me Scotland or I die.’ To some degree, at least, a man must have that kind of desire before he dare start a church.”

The second target audience that needs a pastor’s love is fellow ministers. “Our enemy is the devil, not fellow pastors,” the author explains. “We must love the brethren . . . and ‘esteem them very highly in love for their work’s sake’ (1 Thess. 5:13).”

The third target group is in the pastor’s own home. Wemp urges a pastor to brag about his wife in public. He should magnify her good points. He should let people know how much he loves her-even from the pulpit. The author says that this will not only promote a healthy role model for other church families, but it will keep temptations “away from your door.”

In summary, anyone who reads The Guide to Practical Pastoring would probably find no new profound truths regarding the pastoral profession. The beauty of C. Sumner Wemp’s book, however, lies in its ability to revive the basic need for Christian love in ministry. Quite simply, the author argues that people aren’t stupid. They can’t be fooled regarding a pastor’s love (or lack of love) for the congregation.

Wemp’s final word for pastors, therefore, is to increase their love for those they serve:

“Preacher, get a heart so full of love that you weep over souls, you weep over sins, you weep over sinners. Not a feeble love that stands for nothing and preaches against nothing. Not an egotistical love that preaches against sin to prove that you are right. Not a jealous love that preaches against sin because you can’t do the same things that libertines do. But a love that hates sin because it hurts God, pollutes the world, and destroys people.”

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