The Coral Ridge Strategy: First of Two Parts

The program of training laymen for the task of evangelism at the Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, grew out of the specific situation of that church; yet it has within it some readily transferable techniques that have been successfully used by other congregations. We believe its principles embody some of the New Testament teaching on evangelism. It is a program of personal lay evangelism and does not begin to encompass many of the other sound and biblical methods, such as mass evangelism and pulpit evangelism.

Realizing that laymen are perhaps the most strategic and also the most unused key to the evangelization of the world, we have tried to build a program that will motivate, recruit, and train men and women to begin the job of evangelism and then keep doing it. This is not an easy task. And yet the basic principles of New Testament evangelism seem to require this mobilization of the laity.

Christ’s first command to his new followers in the first chapter of Mark was, “Come ye after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.” His last words on this earth to his disciples were, “But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.” Christ began and ended his ministry with the command to be witnesses and fishers of men. This thrust of his teaching is summed up in the Great Commission, where he tells his followers to go into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature. The first principle, then, is that the Church is a body under orders by Christ to share the Gospel with the whole world.

How is this to be done and by whom? One of the greatest victories Satan has scored against the Church is the idea he has foisted off on probably 90 per cent of it that sharing the Gospel is the task of ministers and evangelists only, not of laymen. So successful has Satan been with this strategem that probably 95 per cent of our church members never lead anyone to Christ. I am thankful that today there is an obvious trend in the opposite direction, as more and more laymen are realizing and accepting their responsibility to witness. The second important principle, then, is that laymen as well as ministers must be trained to evangelize. Laymen make up over 99 per cent of the Church. If they are AWOL, there is little doubt that the battle will be lost.

It was the witness of the entire early Church that produced such a tremendous impact upon the world. In Acts 8:4 we read, “Therefore they that were scattered abroad went everywhere preaching the word.” Some have said, “Doesn’t this refer to the apostles? What do laymen know about such things?” This text has been ripped from its context and used as a pretext for idleness. But let us examine its context. In Acts 8:1 we read, “… they were all scattered abroad … except the apostles.” This means those who “went everywhere preaching the word” were all the believers “except the apostles.” And the term translated “preaching the word” is from the Greek verb that means “to evangelize.” In the early Church, then, the laymen went everywhere “evangelizing.” This is the lost ideal we are striving to regain.

We have seen what needs to be done and by whom. Now, how are we going to get them to do it?

Hundreds of thousands of messages have been preached on the responsibility of Christians to witness, and yet a formidable army of lay witnesses is notably absent. Something must be missing. This brings us to the next important principle: evangelism is more caught than taught. The average person can no more learn to evangelize in a classroom than he can learn to fly an airplane in the living room. The missing link in evangelistic instruction is on-the-job training—something Christ provided.

Our program at Coral Ridge grew out of the experiences I had in starting this church, which was a home-mission project and is now nine years old. I came here directly from seminary. Although I preached evangelistically, had taken all of the courses on evangelism offered at the seminary, and had read books on the subject. I found that the sophisticated people of Fort Lauderdale did not respond to my message from the pulpit. And when it came to confronting individuals face to face with the Gospel, I was sadly lacking in both confidence and know-how. After eight or ten months of preaching, the congregation had dwindled from forty-five to seventeen people, and I was a most discouraged young minister.

Around this time I was invited to Decatur, Georgia, to preach during ten days of evangelistic services. I accepted, happy to get away for a while from my Fort Lauderdale fiasco. When I arrived the pastor told me I would preach each night, but more importantly, he said, we would visit homes each day—morning, noon, and night—to present the Gospel to people individually.

I was petrified. I knew I had absolutely no ability to do this. However, the next morning we went out. After about half an hour of my stumbling attempts at evangelism, the pastor took over the conversation and in about fifteen or twenty minutes led the man to Christ. I was astonished but did not realize the impact this was to have on my life. For ten days I watched this pastor lead one person after another to Christ, for a total of fifty-four. I went back to Fort Lauderdale a new man and began to do just what I had seen done. People responded. Soon dozens, scores, and then hundreds accepted Christ. I had received on-the-job training, and it had paid off.

I then realized that there was a limit to the number of people I myself could talk to, and that what I ought to do was to train others to do the same thing. What I did is the same thing probably thousands of other ministers have done: I organized a class on witnessing. I gave the class members six lessons and sent them out. They all went home terrified! I waited a few months and tried again. This time I gave twelve lessons. Again no success. A few more months and another series, more elaborate. Fifteen weeks—again no results. I do not know of one adult who was brought to Christ as a result of these witnessing classes.

Finally the truth struck me like a bolt of lightning. I myself had attended classes for three years and had not learned how to witness. Not until someone who knew how took me out into people’s homes did I gain the confidence to do it myself. And so I began the program that has continued at Coral Ridge for the past six years. I took out one person until he had confidence to witness, and then another, and another. And so it has grown. After the people are trained, they can train others. [To be continued.]—D. JAMES KENNEDY, senior minister, Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church, Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

Daily Renewal

A Christian’s devotional life has to do with his relation to God in general, but more specifically with a definite time set aside each day for prayer, meditation, and study of God’s Word.

Basically the devotional life consists of communication, man with God and God with man. From this communication the Christian derives the strength, wisdom, and guidance he needs each day. Without a consistent devotional life he becomes spiritually anemic, starved, illiterate, and easy prey to Satan’s devices.

As we form the habit of communing with God, we breathe the pure air of his holy presence. Our thoughts tend to dwell on those things that are true, pure, lovely, and honorable. By contrast, we are able to recognize and abhor the pollution of mind and spirit spread by the moral and spiritual filth that surrounds us in this world.

The devotional period is much like a spiritual bath in its effect. It cleanses, refreshes, and restores. To change the figure: it is like going to a bank to draw upon an inexhaustible supply of funds placed there by a friend. It is not telling God what we plan to do and then asking for his help (unless we already have his clear leading), but rather it is asking God to make clear his will for us and to give his help and guidance in carrying it out.

The knowledge that we belong to God and that he is interested in every detail of our lives makes the devotional life an intensely personal thing. Let no one ever persuade you that God expects us to ask for help and guidance only in the big matters of life while in the smaller ones we are on our own. Nothing is too big or too small for his loving interest and help.

A person starved for food and perishing for lack of water is a pitiable sight. Similarly pitiable is the Christian who ignores the Bread and Water of life offered freely through daily communion with the One who can give life abundant.

In the words of the Apostle Paul, “Let us not allow slackness to spoil our work and let us keep the fires of the spirit burning as we do our work for the Lord. Base your happiness on your hope in Christ. When trials come endure them patiently; steadfastly maintain the habit of prayer” (Rom. 12:11, 12, Phillips).

When we are slack in private prayer and Bible study, the fires of the spirit burn low and the sense of our Lord’s nearness recedes. Trials and problems loom larger and larger until we find ourselves unable to cope with them.

In a close walk with God, the fact of his presence becomes a reality that carries with it comfort, hope, and peace. It means that we talk to God about everything that concerns ourselves and others near and dear to us, and it leads to a real repose in him. As we recognize God’s sovereign right to demand obedience from us, it should cause us to yield our lives to his control.

Which of us does not need a higher wisdom by which to meet the problems of life? Who is sufficient in himself, with no need of divine strength? Who can go his way alone, sure of the course he should pursue? Who has the necessary grace to overcome his own weaknesses? Not one of us! But God offers all these things in full supply.

It is often in the quietness of our devotional lives that these needs are supplied. It is then that we become aware of God’s presence and submit our wills to him. In this time of quietness before him, the Holy Spirit speaks directly to our hearts. It may be through a passage of Scripture that comes alive to our minds. At such times the words of Isaiah become a reality: “And your ears shall hear a word behind you saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it,’ when you turn to the right, or when you turn to the left” (30:21).

All who give rightful time to waiting before God can testify to the fact of his guidance. Centuries ago a Roman centurion in Caesarea was earnestly seeking God in prayer. He clearly saw a vision of an angel telling him to send to the town of Joppa, some thirty-five miles to the south, to ask for a stranger named Peter who would tell him what to do. Just before the messengers arrived, Peter (who was himself observing a devotional hour) saw a vision of God’s salvation offered to Jews and Gentiles alike. His heart was thus prepared by the Spirit so that when the messengers came, he went with them to Caesarea without question. In their devotional lives a Jew and a Gentile prayed, and God heard their prayers and brought them together to further his own purposes.

The devotional life consists of many things. It is listening while God speaks. It is communing with him, and being refilled and empowered by the Holy Spirit for the day’s tasks. It is being cleansed from sin through confession and repentance so that we find ourselves truly standing on “praying ground.” It means that our spiritual eyes are opened so that we see time and eternity in their proper perspective. It brings joy to the heart and peace to the mind, because we have given up the struggle to make our way alone and are simply resting in the Lord.

Certainly one of the great blessings that a consistent devotional life brings is a recognition of sin for what it is: an offense against a holy God. We are living in a time when sin is paraded on every hand, and without spiritual insight we too can become a prey to its evil influence.

I recently read a student magazine published in a state college for women. The editorial was so utterly filthy and given over to the subject of sex that it made my blood run cold. God alone can keep us in times such as these, and it is in our daily devotional times that we receive his enabling power.

But there is a practical question. “How can I find the time to get apart with God? I’m too busy!” If this is true, you are too busy. God never expects anything from us for which he will not supply the means.

The time you set aside for devotions is between you and God, but there must be a time. Take your Bible and prayerfully read it. God will surely speak to you through its pages. Turn your heart and mind to him in prayer and he will surely hear and answer. Instead of being a chore, this quiet time with God will become a joy and a blessing beyond compare.

Mark your Bible as he speaks to you through some particular verse. Ask the Holy Spirit to explain its meaning and then be prepared to obey its teachings.

Pray with the certainty that it is God’s will that you do so. Ask God for all the things you need—material as well as spiritual—and never forget that it is our duty and privilege to pray for others and for their problems. Pray for the world and for all who combine to produce its turmoil; pray that God’s Kingdom will come and his will be done.

Eutychus and His Kin: July 28, 1972

BEWARE OF WITCHES

My desire to push back the frontiers of human knowledge and, incidentally, find a topic for this column recently took me to the home of Mrs. Elfrieda Welles. Mrs. Welles holds the title for the longest continuous watching of television. I sought her out to discover the impact of religious programming on one who had seen it all.

I asked Mrs. Welles how long she had watched television. She turned the sound on her set down slightly and replied, “Well, this here stretch began in 1959. Actually I started in 1948, but my old man died in 1959 and I missed a day.”

“You took a day out to mourn your husband’s passing, I take it.”

“Nah, my battery pack failed at the graveside.”

“How many religious programs do you estimate that you’ve seen since 1959?”

“Don’t need to estimate,” she answered briskly. “Got my tally sheet right here. Let’s see, all together I’ve seen 3,463 religious programs. Billy Graham 419 times, Oral Roberts 263 times, and Rex Humbard 57 times. Oh yes, and Kathryn Kuhlman 16 times—my UHF reception ain’t too good. Rest of it was mostly local preachers.”

“After all this exposure, what is your considered judgment about the efficacy and relevance of contemporary religious programming?”

“Huh?”

“What do you think about the religious programs you’ve seen?”

“Oh, them big fellers like Graham and Roberts—they all put on a good show. I think maybe Roberts has the edge on the rest of them. His song and dance acts have got real pizzaz. But the rest of them preachers are really missin’ the boat.”

“You mean the local programs.”

“Yeh, that’s right. Some of ’em are mighty smart, but they just stand up there in the pulpit all solemn like in their black robes. Now who’s gonna believe a man in a black robe?”

“I don’t understand,” I replied.

“Did you ever stop and think of who else on TV wears a black robe besides them ministers?”

“Not really …”

“The witch.”

“The witch?”

“That ol’ witch in the Wizard of Oz. She’s the only one. Now who’s gonna put any stock in a man who’s dressed up to look like her? Nossir, they gonna have to wear white smocks if they want anyone to believe them.”

“Why white smocks?”

“Don’t you know nothin’?” She frowned as she smoothly switched channels during a commercial. “All the really smart people on TV wear white smocks. Dr. Welby wears one. Them scientists who invent detergents and aspirin wear ’em. Even the men who test gasolines wear ’em.

“You take my word for it, if them preachers want anybody to believe ’em, they’re gonna have to change to white robes.”

So there you have it, television preachers, right from the easy chair.

COLLEGIAN’S PRAISE

Praise the Lord! I just want to express my appreciation of your magazine!… Being in college, I’ve been rather low on funds, so I canceled subscriptions to all magazines except CHRISTIANITY TODAY because it keeps me so well informed on the news, besides giving me a Christian perspective. Also, I like the way it approaches a topic from an intellectual, evangelical viewpoint. My prayers are with you!

Bethany College

Lindsborg, Kans.

GRIPPING THE YOUTH SCENE

Dr. Nicholi’s speculations about the current youth culture (“Why Jesus Attracts Today’s Youth,” June 9) are so inconsistent with other research findings that a few comments seem in order. My analysis of data from 2,000 Berkeley students shows that those most deeply committed to the so-called “counterculture” by any indication—frequent use of hard drugs, radical political activism, sexual deviation, communal living—are no more likely to have problems with loneliness, making friends, or relating to the opposite sex than other students, contrary to what Nicholi suggests. Instead, they make better grades, have more intellectual and aesthetic interests, are more sensitive to questions of meaning and purpose in life, give more attention to social injustices, and aspire to more altruistic careers. Other research supports these findings and shows the profile presented by Nicholi to be true only for extremely alienated youth who have dropped out of college, joined the street scene, and become deeply immersed in the drug culture. Unfortunately, Nicholi fails to recognize some of these important distinctions.

It also seems to me that he fails to come to grips with the more important issues raised by the current youth scene. How will the rise of highly visible Eastern and mystical religious groups affect common understandings of man and of God? How are existentialist values revolutionizing views of both science and religion in many quarters? Are we as Christians reveling in a handful of “Jesus freaks” while a whole generation is abandoning any form of religious faith? The questioning occurring among youth and the changes taking place within our culture run deeper, I think, than most of us realize.

Survey Research Center

University of California

Berkeley, Calif.

WHAT WEDERDOOPERS DO

[I] would like to call your attention to a misleading statement in your magazine of June 9 (“Amish Education and Religious Freedom”).… “Wederdoopers” does not mean water-dunkers but rebaptizers—to baptize a second time (German: Wiedertaufer). Your version gives the idea of immersion. This form was not practiced by the Mennonites until about 1860. A small group made this change and [it] is not the form generally used but pouring or sprinkling is the accepted practice.

Mountain Lake, Minn.

CORRECTIVE VERSE

With reference to “Passing the Missions Buck” (News, June 9) and with apologies to Micah:

But you, O Christian and Missionary Alliance,

who are little to be among the denominations of America,

From you shall come forth for me

919 missionaries (not 191),

whose origin is from of old.

Fairmede Neighborhood Church

Richmond, Calif.

• Correct. A news source was at fault.—ED.

ON THE JUGULAR VEIN

I regret that Mr. Kucharsky in trying to summarize the action (“Southern Baptists Veto Book Recall,” June 23) quoted me as indirectly saying that “Southern Baptists find it hard to agree on anything, and that no commentary is perfect.” Southern Baptists do agree on many things, one of which is the competency of the soul in religion, or the freedom of the individual conscience. It is out of this that all of our beliefs flow. My position in opposing the motion made by Mr. Turner to withdraw the Broadman Commentary in toto was based on five reasons. (1) I have never read a commentary with which I agree entirely, but have been helped by all of them in understanding the Bible. (2) No man alive could write a commentary which all Southern Baptists would accept fully. (3) The motion by Turner is out of keeping with the spirit and letter of the Preamble to the Baptist Faith and Message which guarantees freedom of conscience. This preamble is as much a part of the Baptist Faith and Message as any other article in it. If we ignore it then the statement becomes a creed, and Southern Baptists are not a creedal people. (4) This motion is in direct opposition to the basic principle of Baptists through the years, namely, the competency of the soul in religion. (5) This motion is in conflict with the purpose of the Southern Baptist Convention as expressed in the opening paragraph of the Constitution. Its purpose is not to hammer out doctrine in a public forum. Rather it is to elicit, combine, and direct the energies of the denomination in missions and evangelism. I stated that we had been debating this matter for three years, and I felt that it was time that we put it behind us and went on with the work of the convention. You can see that is quite a different thing from what Mr. Kucharsky said that I said.

In your editorial, I do not in any sense feel that this was a “watershed” of the Southern Baptist Convention turning toward liberalism. In my statement to the convention I said that the issue before us was not a set of books, but a principle dear to the hearts of all Baptists. So actually the Southern Baptist Convention was not voting on a set of books one way or the other. It just happened to be the occasion. We were voting our conviction that includes the priesthood of believers, the freedom of the individual conscience before God, the responsibility of each conscience before God, and the competency of the soul in religion. I am sure that you agree with me that these are basic principles.

Southern Baptists are no more departing on a liberal course now than they have ever been. They are still a conservative, middle-of-the-road people. We can have the Broadman Commentary or dispose of it, we can have various versions of it to fit various strains of thought, and the Southern Baptist Convention will go on about its work. But the motion that was defeated in Philadelphia was aimed at the jugular vein of Baptist freedom. It was that upon which Southern Baptists were voting, not merely a set of books.

First Baptist Church

Oklahoma City, Okla.

UNGARBLING THE P.C.U.S.

Readers of my report on the Presbyterian U.S. General Assembly (“Southern Presbyterians Elect Bell, Stay in COCU,” July 7) might wonder if I had ever covered a Presbyterian Assembly before or if I was asleep this time. I realize that a close deadline and a tight space situation made the job of editing all the more difficult. [But] some corrections must be noted.

1. The statement that “election of a theological conservative can be construed as a direct word from the Assembly that there is a place for conservatives in the denomination” was attributed in the original story to Dr. Bell’s nominator, Mr. Edwards. It is his statement, not the reporter’s.

2. Formation of a continuing church, according to the final edited version, is contingent on union with the United Presbyterian Church U.S.A. The original story did not impose this condition on the organized conservative forces. Actually, they have avoided making this a condition in all their public statements.

3. The second reference to the 1971 moderator, Dr. Ben Lacy Rose, calls him only “Lacy.” This was not in the original.

4. “Initial-step appointments” in agency restructuring should have read “initial staff appointments.”

5. “Senates” are given as the names of the new regional judicatories. While the Assembly has made great changes, it has not changed the name from “synod” to “senate.”

6. Most unfortunate, perhaps, is the fact that your editing removed from the report all reference to an Assembly action that may turn out to be the most important one. That was the decision to put out of business, even before it had a chance to get on its feet, the one synod (Alabama-Mississippi) which was assured of a conservative majority. Against their wishes, these states were combined with Tennessee and Kentucky to form a region.

The Presbyterian Journal

Asheville, N. C.

• We regret the errors. Garbled telephone transmission and the pressure of a deadline amid severe flood conditions (knocking out communication between editorial staffers) accounted for most of them.—ED.

ON THE PROCESS

We appreciate the mention of Mrs. Billie McClure (News, Personalia, May 26). What you report is partially correct. The Georgia courts have ruled that the Civil Rights Act has no jurisdiction in the employment relationship between a church and its ministers, but it is also true that the U. S. District Court in New Orleans, Louisiana, has upheld that ruling, and that’s the process by which the case now goes to the Supreme Court.

Divisional Commander

The Salvation Army

Baltimore, Md.

Ideas

Election Promises: Counting the Cost

Rich America is “backward” in terms of welfare legislation. Several European countries, such as Britain and Sweden, offer a far more extensive program of government-funded social services than the United States. Of course, they charge more for them in taxes, too. And thereby hangs a tale—one not gladly told by hopeful politicians before the election returns are safely in. As candidates vie with one another in promising to build a near-perfect replica of the Heavenly Jerusalem, we would do well to consider what it all will cost and who will foot the bill.

The urgent need for tax reform in the United States is evident to almost everyone. Less obvious are the ultimate consequences of some of the promised changes; many people will recognize them only when the tax collector presents his amended bills. There is a lot of talk about “closing the loopholes,” or, as it is more directly put, “socking the rich.” Unfortunately for the not-so-rich, it may prove more difficult to sock the rich alone than many of us imagine. After a few years of sharply progressive tax rates, there won’t be many rich left to sock, and the load will fall entirely on the much more numerous people in the middle and lower income groups.

In Sweden people of modest incomes often pay more than 50 per cent of their earnings to the state in taxes. Of course, Sweden’s government has some far-reaching social goals in mind. One of them is ultimately to tax parents so heavily that they will not be able to “keep their children in humiliating financial dependence”—i.e., support them themselves—but will have to obtain grants from the state for this purpose. Nothing like this has yet been proposed for the United States, but as Sweden is often held up to us as a model of enlightened social legislation, it may be useful to look at where that country is heading. (See July 7 issue, pages 36, 37.)

One of the largest “loopholes” in the current tax laws is at the point of contributions to religious and other charitable enterprises. Eliminating the tax deductibility of these contributions will enable the fisc to collect much more money from the general public. But we should realize that once this is done, the government will probably have to demand a good deal more in increased taxes than it now “loses” by allowing deductions. Taking funds away from religious and other voluntary organizations will cut down on their capacity to meet some of the social and welfare needs they now handle. When we bear in mind that much of the work of voluntary organizations is done by highly motivated people, often without pay, it appears likely that the government will need to increase taxes over and above its projected windfall, because the windfall will not begin to cover the necessary social work now done by voluntary organizations.

Many people feel that, as a matter of principle, the government should meet all public welfare needs and nothing should be left to private or voluntary initiative. This is official government policy in Sweden as well as in Communist countries—the difference being that in Communist countries private charities are forbidden by law, whereas in Sweden they are simply starved out by high taxes.

We may seem to have come a long way from observing the popular desire to close tax loopholes to warning of the possibility that all voluntary organizations, not excluding churches, will face eventual strangulation if the implications of the current “reform” proposals prevail. The late primate of Sweden, Bishop Reuben Josefson of Uppsala, said that humanly speaking it is impossible for a free church to exist in a welfare state. We are more hopeful; the Lord promised his church that the gates of hell would not prevail against it and presumably the Internal Revenue Service will not do so either. But there will come a point—probably before we reach the level of taxation imposed in Sweden today—when the existence of non-government operations in the areas of health, education, and welfare will become next to impossible, and when even purely religious activities will operate under severe burdens.

If this is what the people of the United States want to do with themselves and their society, they have the power to do it. But do they really want it? Voluntary associations of all kinds have played a vital role in American life and are among the major expressions of our civic freedom. Before we vote to abolish the conditions that permit them to exist, let us look at the ultimate implications—and demand that our political leaders and candidates do likewise.

Not Because They Are Gay

A few weeks ago two men engaged in a “marriage” ceremony in a Washington “church” that caters to homosexuals. The couple called their relationship a “holy union”; one of them said, “We’re having this ceremony because we want God to bless our union.”

Officiants at the ceremony were the pastor of the church, a Presbyterian minister from Charleston, West Virginia, and a clergyman from the Orthodox Catholic Communion. The couple received holy communion, had special prayers offered for them, and were told they will see persecution “not only because they are gay but because they are Christian.”

However sincerely these men want God to bless their relationship, it cannot happen. Scripture includes practicing homosexuals in the list of those who shall not inherit the kingdom of God, along with fornicators, adulterers, idolators, and others. They are condemned, not for being homosexual, but for engaging in forbidden acts. Heterosexual fornicators and adulterers fall under the same condemnation.

Practicing homosexuals usually accuse their critics of lacking compassion. What they mean by compassion is approval of their wicked ways. This is not and cannot be compassion. True compassion includes telling the practicing homosexual the truth of God’s revelation, pointing out the ultimate end of persistently breaking one of God’s commandments, and holding out the promise of forgiveness and restoration where there is repentance. True repentance always includes a turning away from the sinful conduct, whatever it may be.

Babylonian Dreams

One of the greatest urban-renewal projects in ancient history was the rebuilding of the capital city of Babylon in the days of Nebuchadnezzar’s Neo-Babylonian Empire—the same one that overthrew the Assyrians and Egyptians and conquered Jerusalem. And on a certain occasion the king boasted to himself, “Is not this great Babylon, which I have built by my mighty power as a royal residence and for the glory of my majesty?” (Dan. 4:30). The king’s arrogance was chastised in a singular way: he became temporarily insane and lived as a beast of the field for several years.

Here in America we supposedly have the benefit both of widespread familiarity with the Bible and of twenty-five hundred more years of history. Yet we too are inclined to dream Babylonian dreams. On the occasion of the first manned trip to the moon, President Nixon maladroitly compared the accomplishment to the creation of the universe. An occasional boast of this kind may be passed off as a rhetorical slip, but unfortunately the President’s lunar lapse only reflects the feelings of all too many moderns as we contemplate the great works our hands have built.

And then something unexpected happens—like the East Coast floods of June 22–24—to show us that we are still at the mercy of the elements, and that our greatest construction projects cannot hold back the forces of nature. Nor can we compel nature to do all that we bid her, though we often delude ourselves into thinking we can. For example, we are only now becoming aware of the potentially disastrous ecological results of one of man’s most ambitious projects, the damming of the Nile. And we find that other, lesser attempts to alter the course of nature bring unexpected consequences.

This does not mean we should turn away from city-building, or even from dam-building. But it does mean we should be far less bold than Nebuchadnezzar or Nixon in admiring what we have created and in evaluating its impact on ourselves and our successors. In all these things it behooves us to remember the message that by sage custom was repeatedly whispered into the ears of victorious Roman generals as they passed through the wildly cheering crowds: “Remember, you too are but a man.”

Insecure Security

What is the real significance of the recently voted 20 per cent increase in Social Security benefits? The Washington Star wryly observed in a July 4 editorial that Congress cleverly provided for the benefits to begin October 1, before the election. The tax rise to pay for them, however, in the form of a 40 per cent increase in Social Security taxes on middle and upper income groups, will not take effect until January 1, 1973—after the election.

Of course increases in benefits have been made necessary by constant inflation—but the inflation itself is in large measure the result of financially unsound government economic policies. Since the rising benefits hardly do more than compensate for the constantly declining value of the dollar, the only long-term change for the worker is the increasing percentage of his earnings that is being taken from him to finance the system.

When Social Security was introduced during Franklin D. Roosevelt’s first administration, it was presented as a kind of compulsory retirement insurance that would be a “floor” upon which people could build any additional retirement plan they chose. “Contributions”—i.e., taxes—from employees and employers were to go into a “trust fund” from which retirement and survivors’ benefits would ultimately be paid. Unlike private pension plans, however, the “trust fund” is not invested but is spent for current expenses. A worker of eighteen who contributed the equivalent of his and his employer’s Social Security contributions on his behalf to a private annuity could receive an annual pension of $17,316 at age sixty-five—much more than the government promises. Of course, Social Security provides other benefits that would require a complex private plan to match, but this difference remains: the insurance company would invest his money; the government merely spends it.

The recent increase in benefits means that the “trust fund” will be completely bankrupt. All further increases for the retired must henceforth be paid out of increasing taxes on those still working. It is not unreasonable to think that people currently in their productive years should contribute to the support of those who have passed them. But those now drawing pensions were led to expect that they were paying for them in advance. Now it appears that the “trust funds” have been squandered or melted away by inflation, and so their children must pay them in arrears. It seems that the congressional ploy of increasing benefits before the voting, taxes afterward, is not the only element of duplicity in the Social Security scheme.

We believe that our nation should make decent provision for its people of retirement age. But it should do so honestly, and not cover up bad planning with deceptive and dishonest verbiage about “insurance” and “trust funds.”

Objective: 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

In Miami’s Convention Hall Democrats practiced the new politics, which turned out to be the old politics under a new name. Chairman O’Brien urged that the people be told the truth for a change. But no one really believes that when the rhetorical decibel count rises in the fall, either the Democrats or the Republicans will supply more light than heat as they work for votes.

Democratic standard-bearer George McGovern carries into the campaign an assortment of controversial positions that the Republicans will dwell on: his redistribution-of-wealth program, his proposal to reduce the country’s military might by simply curtailing the budget of the armed forces, his statement that he would go to North Viet Nam to beg for release of the prisoners of war, and his stand on busing. Likely to be liabilities are the statements of some of his more radical followers who want public approval of free love, abortion on demand, and homosexual marriages. The venom with which his delegates dethroned Daley, the rough handling of George Wallace’s minority effort to amend the party platform, and the alienation of organized labor will also hurt him.

The people who ran the McGovern show at Miami were obviously no novices. They have shown amazing expertise and are to be congratulated on a well-organized drive. They made it plain they are familiar with power politics and will not hesitate to use it in the days ahead.

Whatever may be said of the Democrats may be similarly said of the Republicans. They too have their fair share of problems. The ITT case, the bugging of the Democratic headquarters in Washington, continued unemployment, persistent inflation, and the unended war contribute to their predicament as the party in power.

Political parties are grossly imperfect and mirror all the weaknesses and defects of humanity. Still, the political process remains the major means through which Christians can have an influence and bear a witness. But traveling through this jungle is dangerous, and the temptation to compromise one’s convictions is ever present. It would be far easier to say “a plague on both your houses” and withdraw than to stay in to witness and to work at improving the process. History’s lesson is plain. If Christians default, they will get something far worse. So let’s get on with it.

Patriarch Athenagoras

The world will remember Patriarch Athenagoras, who died this month at the age of eighty-six, as the Orthodox leader who began to repair relations with the Vatican. His meeting with Pope Paul in 1964 was the first between an Eastern Orthodox primate and a Roman Catholic pontiff in more than five centuries. Two years later excommunications exchanged between Rome and Constantinople in the eleventh century were annulled.

The patriarch’s death set off something of a furor in that Turkey refused to admit Archbishop Iakovos of New York to attend the funeral. A delegation of American Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish churchmen, in a sympathy move, called off plans to attend. Turkey’s attitude toward Orthodoxy has been barely tolerant, but many Orthodox in Europe and the Near East have not shown much of an example in their relations with evangelical Protestants, either.

Athenagoras was an approachable man whose “reign” was characterized by stark simplicity. He lived in a two-room apartment in an old building in a poor quarter of Istanbul.

Who Is Our Pattern?

From the very dawn of human history, parents and educators have told their children the stories of noble and heroic men and women. Instead of simply presenting them with a list of do’s and don’t’s, they have sought to inspire the young with an admiration for people who lived nobly, gloriously, and self-sacrificially, and to encourage imitation by pointing out that such living is possible—people have done it.

The Jews had great figures like Moses, Deborah, David, and Daniel. The more secular-minded Greeks exalted the legendary heroes of the Iliad, but also the more recent and historical Spartans of Thermopylae. The Romans had Horatius at the bridge, Marius as a prisoner of the Carthaginians, and many others. The early Christians had Jesus Christ, and when his sinless perfection seemed too exalted to imitate, they told the stories of martyrs, confessors, and other warriors of the faith.

The modern Western world has largely rejected this traditional way of character training. On the one hand, respected figures are regularly “debunked” by revisionist historians—sometimes justly so, sometimes entirely fancifully, as when Sigmund Freud tried to prove that Moses was a renegade Egyptian. On the other hand, ridicule and abuse has been showered on present-day leaders, such as on Lyndon B. Johnson (Macbird, Che!) and Richard M. Nixon (Milhouse). Genuine villains and psychopathic criminals are made into world celebrities. And when the supply of real-life anti-heroes runs out, the media, especially the movies, offer a horde of imaginary—but very impressive—substitutes. Any reasonable man can see that if the earlier practices educated for virtues such as courage, altruism, and generosity of spirit, our present habits promote the opposing vices.

Christians can do little to stem the tide of negative models and patterns. But we can do something to counteract their nihilistic effect by reminding ourselves that worthy patterns do exist: Jesus Christ and many of his most faithful followers through nineteen centuries. Confronted with a tide of slander and character assassination, we should heed the Apostle’s words: “Finally, brethren whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is any thing worthy of praise, think about these things” (Phil. 4:8).

Whose Freedom?

Early in June, when academic institutions were handing out degrees, the American Association of Theological Schools presented a different kind of document to Concordia Theological Seminary in St. Louis, Missouri, the larger seminary of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. After a two-day investigation, the AATS placed Concordia on academic probation for two years because of “undue” outside interference in the school’s freedom of operation.

The background of this decision is a long-simmering uneasiness in the Missouri Synod over alleged liberalism at Concordia, specifically the teaching of liberal higher critical views of Scripture. Dr. Jacob A. O. Preus, LCMS president, felt obliged by Missouri’s constitution and confessional documents to investigate the St. Louis school, which trains the majority of new ministers for Missouri. Preus holds—rightly, we believe—that the application of the so-called historical-critical method with its anti-supernatural presuppositions to the study of the Bible will eventually undermine its authority and lead to a serious misunderstanding of its content and its message.

The issue came to a head with the nomination of Old Testament professor Dr. Arlis J. Ehlen to life tenure. Ehlen is a practitioner of the historical-critical method, and has been supported in this by Concordia president John H. Tietjen and a majority of the school’s faculty. When Ehlen’s nomination for tenure came up for a vote, conservative opposition blocked the action; a compromise was reached in the form of limited-term reappointment for Ehlen. But the LCMS Board of Higher Education, which has ultimate jurisdiction, disregarded warnings and threats by Tietjen and Concordia vice-president Arthur C. Repp and refused to approve any reappointment at all for Ehlen.

Almost immediately the AATS, of which Repp is a vice-president, did as he had warned it would do: it discovered “serious infringement on the freedom of the Concordia Seminary Board of Control … damage to the quality of education and the morale of the faculty” and placed the seminary on probation. At the same time it warned Concordia’s sister school in Springfield, Illinois, of similar action.

The AATS has consistently claimed to be nothing more than an academic accrediting association without any interest in doctrinal issues. The AATS Handbook states,

An institution which has a confessional or doctrinal standard may expect that its faculty subscribe to that standard.… Any challenge to the doctrinal regularity of a faculty member should be subject to open hearing before his colleagues and before the governing board of the school as well as before ecclesiastical tribunals which may have jurisdiction [italics added].

Asked how these “Principles of Academic Freedom” from the Handbook could be squared with the action against Concordia, AATS executive director Dr. Jesse H. Ziegler told CHRISTIANITY TODAY, “These particular things are advisory to our members, not really part of our standards for accrediting.”

Presumably no one in the Missouri Synod or out of it would deny Ehlen the freedom to follow the so-called historical-critical methodology. What is at stake is whether the LCMS can be obliged to hire him for the rest of his life to teach it to Missouri’s future ministers. Obviously those backing Ehlen are counting heavily on AATS support to force Preus and the Board of Higher Education to knuckle under.

If the AATS succeeds in intimidating Missouri, it will mean that a “pluralistic” professional accrediting association has the last word as to what is acceptable doctrine in the LCMS and what is not. A seminary can survive without AATS accreditation, but a church cannot survive as a true church of Jesus Christ if it cannot teach its future pastors to rely on the trustworthiness of Scripture.

Southerners Under Scrutiny

What was it like to be a Christian and a slave-owner during the Civil War era? The Children of Pride (Yale, 1972), letters of a grand Southern family, tells us this and more.

The Reverend Dr. Charles Colcock Jones was a white Presbyterian clergyman known as the “apostle to the blacks.” Editor Robert Manson Myers comments: “This extraordinary man … was a rich planter, a gentleman of radiant Christian character, aptly described by his son-in-law as ‘one of the noblest men God ever made.’ ” Although a radiant Christian of evangelical persuasion (his and his wife’s concern for their unsaved sons is a recurring theme throughout the 1,845-page volume), Jones did not act against slavery. He and his family enjoyed the freedom from physical labor that slavery made possible.

Jones called the slave trade “immoral and filthy” while damning the abolitionists. He even warned his son “that you never can succeed and attain to any eminence in your profession if you have anything at all to do with the management of Negro property” (Jones also considered Christian moral excellence necessary for professional success). His son Charles didn’t listen.

The title of this volume is taken from Job 41:34, which contains the lesson the editor wishes to teach: “He beholdeth all high things; he is a king over all the children of pride.” God, comments Myers, chastises those he loves and humbles those filled with the pride of life. This is the sin of the Jones family. The pride of life, not slavery, is the book’s underlying theme; slavery just happens to be the form that the Joneses’ pride takes.

The Children of Pride eloquently reminds us—and warns us—of the evils of Christian complacency and conceit. Myers’s beautiful descriptions in the prologue and epilogue complement the contrasts of belief and act. The book also makes us consider that we, too, often knowingly or thoughtlessly, cleave word and deed; our hypocrisy will one day be revealed.

Sunday Laws And Human Welfare

A few weeks ago one of the big food chains in the Washington area began to open its Maryland stores on Sunday. The practice soon spread to its competitors, and to the District of Columbia and its Virginia suburbs. Attempts to force the stores back to a six-day week are being denounced by secularists as a campaign by religious fanatics to impose “blue laws.”

In Austria (largely Catholic, socialist government), Switzerland (mixed Protestant/Catholic, bourgeois government), and France (largely Catholic, militantly secular, bourgeois government), all or virtually all grocery stores are closed from Saturday afternoon until Monday morning. Newcomers quickly get used to the system, and the hardship is minimal.

These laws exist to guarantee a free Sunday to grocery employees. Without them, competition would force all the stores to remain open every day for as many hours as possible. This is what has happened in the Washington area. Who suffers? First of all, the employees. But what about the customers? They probably will not eat more food because they can shop for it seven days a week. But since the grocery chains will have to pay for a large number of extra hours, the customers will ultimately have to pay more for the same amount of food. For the sake of a hardly vital gain in convenience to undisciplined shoppers, employees lose their Sundays and customers pay more for the same food.

When store closing laws are up for reconsideration, whether they relate to the days or the hours when all stores must close, let them be considered in the light of the welfare of the employees and the general public, and not simply erased from the books as a further sacrifice to the militant secularists in their frenzy to eradicate everything in America that smacks of our Christian past.

The Other Side Of Jesus

Jesus wrestled with the world. He avoided minor conflicts so that he could engage his critics on crucial issues. He contended for things that mattered; advocates of appeasement must look for another hero. Jesus took the challenge of grappling with the great ideas that governed the world in which he was incarnate.

But this is not the image of Jesus that is best known today. He is recognized most broadly for a sweet and gentle compassion. This image has been emphasized so much, unwittingly or intentionally, that many people find it hard to understand incidents in the life of Christ that reveal another side.

Take the parable of the unjust steward (Luke 16). Could Jesus have stooped to draw a lesson from the machinations of a first-century political type? Yes, he did. There is some controversy about the meaning and application of the passage, but at the very least we can say he used it to illustrate his lament that people solely concerned with the here and now often show more ingenuity than do those whose path is illumined with eternal light.

Some people also have a hard time believing that Jesus told his followers to be as “wary as serpents” (Matt. 10:16). This sounds out of character only if we have built up an erroneous impression of what Jesus was really like. Since the Bible is our only source of information about him, we must be careful not to read into his life any attitudes not actually recorded in Scripture.

We should not reduce our appreciation for Jesus’ compassion, but we need to understand that there is an intellectual as well as an emotional factor in genuinely Christian compassion. It is not merely behind-the-scenes first aid. Being concerned for the welfare of others entails identifying with their intellectual as well as their physical well-being. And the way that Jesus dealt with people at this level and the way he admonished his followers suggest that this is accomplished not by wishy-washy counseling but by hard argument.

To be wary (phronimos, translated “wise” in the King James version) connotes the idea of prudence, a word that is not part of popular vocabulary today. Prudence has to do with the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason. The great challenge we have stems from the fact that Jesus not only urges us to take on the world but gives us the equipment to do so. We have God’s word, which is the bench mark for all truth and for reason at its best.

Book Briefs: July 28, 1972

Conflicting Perspectives

Labor Problems in Christian Perspective, edited by John H. Redekop (Eerdmans, 1972, 364 pp., $6.95), is reviewed by Kenneth G. Elzinga, associate professor of economics, University of Virginia, Charlottesville.

Editor Redekop has assembled twenty-six essays purportedly showing the relevance of the Christian faith to contemporary labor problems. But uncovering this relevance is no simple task.

Consider Selection 1: it contains no reference to Christianity, nor the Lord, nor his Church, nor the Word; the essay could as well appear in a secular collection. Consider Selection 2: it is sympathetic to strong unions, acclaims collective bargaining, and applauds the National Council of Churches’ sanction of the strike; the selection ends with an appeal to “put into practice” Judeo-Christian social principles. But consider Selection 3: it calls for legislation barring strikes and seeks the application of the antitrust laws to unions and collective bargaining; this essay also ends with an appeal to biblical principles in finding a “Christian view of the problems of labor.”

And so it goes. We learn in more than one essay that supporting unions is Christian but are informed elsewhere that Christians should dissociate from unions. Union apprenticeship programs are praised as socially beneficial and later condemned as devices of racial bigotry. By the conclusion of essay 26, a reader is likely to think that either Christianity has nothing to offer the labor sector (except appeals to apply Christian principles) or else the application of Christian principles leads only to disagreement and confusion.

The volume is mistitled. Supposedly concerned with labor problems, it deals almost solely with union behavior. This emphasis neglects the bulk of the labor sector (only about one-fourth of the workers in northern America are unionized) and also dates the book. While contemporary discussions of labor problems still involve unions, there is much more talk today of the effect of work upon alienation, the integration of labor and leisure, and the very role of work itself in man’s life. These problems know no union boundary and are certainly meat for the Christian world-view; yet only two essays (two of the best, by Hart and Nederhood) deal with these issues—which are truly labor problems and not solely union problems.

The mistitling of the book is compounded since no single “Christian perspective” is offered. The twenty-six authors range from some who are decidedly evangelical to some who seem to equate Christianity with a belief in the dignity of man. As it is, rather than Labor Problems in Christian Perspective, the book should be entitled The Union Problem from Various Christian Perspectives.

Unfortunately, even what the writers say about the union problem is marred by some factual errors and misleading generalizations. Several of the essayists, for example, assert that unions have raised the incomes of workers and are the prime reason for the relatively high wages in northern America. In fact the credit for these wage levels goes to the enormous capital stock our labor works with, the superior education and skills of the American work force, and the high level of technology Americans enjoy.

Most economists agree that labor unions have not increased the share of national income going to labor. The view that unions have had the impact frequently alleged in this volume is difficult to link with statistics showing that the rate at which real wages rose in the United States prior to the pro-union legislation of the thirties and the rate at which they have risen since are about the same. That the essays by union leaders should overlook these facts can be excused as a matter of convenience and strategy; when the academic essayists do so, it is poor scholarship.

Among the twenty-six contributors (fifteen from Canada, eleven from the United States) are nine from colleges, seven from organized labor, five from politics, two ministers, two writers, and one businessman. Notably absent were theologians, women, those who could speak more from a traditional and experiential work perspective, and (forgive the academic nepotism) economists. I was impressed by Jenkins’s portrayal of how a Pentecostal Christian seeks to operate as a union leader, the struggles of Vandezande and Forbes to develop a Christian view of labor that is divorced from the conventional and in their view unbiblical notion of class struggle, Baerg’s practical advice to Christian union members, Schmidt on the development of labor relations, and Redekop’s useful discussion of the Christian’s attitude toward strikes.

Several of the selections on unions do give the reader some useful historical perspectives on collective bargaining and union-government relations, as well as some interesting tidbits on particular problems of arbitration, the Confederation of National Trade Unions, the famous Huggendorn case, and other topics. But reading a standard text on labor economics and industrial relations may be a more efficient way of getting this sort of material.

Perhaps the most distressing aspect of this collection is the conclusion it would almost inevitably leave a non-Christian leader. After grappling with the “Christian view” of the strike, or union dues, or right-to-work laws, the reader is left with either patently contradictory views or else some tentative grapplings concluded by a plea for more thought and diligence in the application of Christian principles.

All this lends fuel to the conventional academic wisdom that Christianity has little to offer in the social realm. Is it surprising that The Way is generally ignored?

Insufficient Sample

The Psychology of Speaking in Tongues, by John P. Kildahl (Harper & Row, 1972, 110 pp., $4.95), is reviewed by E. Russell Chandler, journalist, author, and teacher, Sonora, California.

After limited empirical investigation, psychotherapist Kildahl concludes that glossolalists are neither more nor less emotionally disturbed than equally religious non-tongue-speakers, show great dependence on a “benevolent” authority figure, are characteristically less depressed than nonglossolalists, and are universally susceptible to hypnotism.

Further, in “a personal and subjective summary,” the author asserts that speaking in tongues is a learned phenomenon, does not appear to be particularly spiritual, and is often quite disruptive.

The use of glossolalia determines “whether or not it is a constructive phenomenon or rather damages and destroys,” observes Kildahl—director of pastoral psychology at New York Seminary—on the book’s last page. “Glossolalia rarely benefits a wide segment of the community.”

How valid are his findings? The methods of study seem sound enough: ten years of firsthand observations, detailed questionnaires, interviews with linguists, dozens of taped interviews, and intensive analysis of twenty glossolalists and twenty non-tongue-speakers. But the sample is too limited; the exclusion of some vital components in the charismatic movement clouds his conclusions.

Kildahl interviewed only persons from mainline Protestant churches, overlooking traditional Pentecostalists and Roman Catholic charismatics. The fact that he tosses this aside in one paragraph in the foreward suggests he has a limited grasp of the over-all movement since the early 1960s. His bias shows through (he admittedly stands outside the charismatic community) when he refers to “right-wing Protestants such as Pentecostalists,” and he reveals his unfamiliarity with the current scene when he says Catholic charismatics include “several thousand persons known to speak in tongues.” Among the Pentecostal denominations, the Assemblies of God alone count more than half a million, while Roman Catholic charismatics more nearly total 100,000 (see March 31 issue, page 34).

Kildahl does try to handle the study sympathetically, and he generally stays within his prescribed scope: the psychology of tongue-speaking. He factually reports what he found from a small sample; a more representative one could yield different conclusions.

Kildahl says he and his colleagues “never met a deeply involved tongue-speaker who did not have some leader to whom he looked for guidance.… We found no tongue-speaker who was unrelated to a glossolalia authority figure.…” This reviewer has.

Again, the author notes that solitary tongue-speakers don’t often make themselves known; hence he encountered “very few” in his research. Yet, in my opinion, the “solitary” tongue-speakers—those who use this form of expression primarily for private devotions—may, in fact, constitute most glossolalists.

In three places Kildahl flatly asserts that glossic utterances are not human languages. If, however, even one example should prove to be a known language, what would this do to Kildahl’s theory that speaking in tongues must be demonstrated and taught and is not a specific gift of God?

I myself have known not a few cases where the glossolalia experience was generated during quiet, rational introspection—a condition Kildahl calls “rare.” But his descriptions of group behavior and glossolalia ring true.

What God’S Word Says

Living Doctrines of the New Testament, by H. D. McDonald (Zondervan, 1972, 219 pp., $3.95 pb), is reviewed by Lewis Foster, dean of the Graduate School, Cincinnati Bible Seminary.

Living Doctrines of the New Testament is a study in biblical theology, written for “the general reader and the beginner student.” The author also has in mind the preacher and teacher charged with the important task of delivering the Word of God.

H. D. McDonald is vice-principal and professor at the London (England) Bible College. He here attempts to combine two approaches to Bible study. The theologian’s systematic treatment of special subjects, such as christology, anthropology, soteriology, and eschatology might be considered a vertical approach. In contrast, the running commentary, unfolded book by book, might be said to be a horizontal approach. To superimpose one on the other, as this writer has done, introduces some difficulties. The theologian’s pattern of study has been allowed to predominate, and the emphases of the individual biblical writers have been lost. Nevertheless, the result is worthwhile in pointing up certain doctrines and attempting to treat them in the context in which they appear.

The section divisions of the book follow the horizontal line of biblical arrangement—the four Gospels, Acts, the Pauline letters, and then separate sections for Hebrews, James, John’s and Peter’s letters, and Revelation—and the chapter divisions within the sections follow the vertical line of theological subjects.

“Grace” can be used as an example of the difficulties in McDonald’s method. Although the word appears in neither Matthew nor Mark, the author devotes a whole chapter to the study of grace in his section on the Synoptic Gospels. His conclusions may indeed be true, but to superimpose them on the gospel narratives does not adequately represent the emphases of these particular books nor give the complete picture of a doctrine that is handled in several other separated sections. McDonald himself makes an important observation about the absence of the word “grace” in the teaching of Jesus in contrast to the frequent occurrences in Paul and the early Church: “… it would seem to suggest that the New Testament writers were more careful to preserve the actual teaching of Jesus rather than what they desired Him to have said.”

The outstanding attribute of McDonald’s work is its scriptural notations. More than one thousand references to biblical passages are given in the footnotes. These are invaluable.

But the footnotes are made up exclusively of scriptural citations. One can count on one hand specific mention of modern authors. This is not to say that McDonald is unaware of what is being said in his field. He treats variant theories with such generalities as “some hold …” and “others maintain.…” No doubt he wanted to avoid encumbering the book with bewildering theories and a piling up of interpretations. It would be well, however, to annotate the views mentioned.

As partial compensation, there is a helpful bibliography that includes titles dating back to the late 1800s but is weighted with recent works of all schools of thought. There is a noticeable lack of American titles.

The book has no index. This hinders the use of its work at its best point, its systematic treatment of subjects and Scriptures.

By following rather closely certain vertical lines of the theologian, McDonald slights some of the horizontal lines of the biblical text. Among those living doctrines that do not receive their due are the church, repentance, and baptism.

An outstanding strength is the author’s ability to discuss a subject and then sum up profound biblical teachings in one or two memorable sentences. For instance: “But not only is it impossible to separate Christ’s words from His person, but also, it is not possible to separate His work from His person. What He says is what He is, and what He is is what He does.…”

The format is pleasing and makes the material easy to follow. The book can be profitably read and reread.

Newly Published

The Children of Pride, edited by Robert Manson Myers (Yale, 1,845 pp., $19.95). The extensive correspondence of a Southern clergyman’s family during the Civil War era. Unfailingly right in his editing and juxtaposition of letters, the University of Maryland English professor offers a finely constructed history, filled with rich insight into man’s delusions and God’s justice. In the process he provides an eminent example of Christian artistic and scholarly excellence (see editorial, page 25).

Brethren, Hang Loose: Or What’s Happening to My Church?, by Robert C. Girard (Zondervan, 220 pp., $4.95, $1.95 pb). The story of an ordinary-sized congregation that has been experiencing “renewal,” especially through home meetings. Special acknowledgments to the insights of Watchman Nee and Lawrence Richards.

Help! I’m a Parent, by Bruce Narramore (Zondervan, 174 pp., $3.95). Rooted in the Bible, with sensible and practical advice. Has an accompanying study manual, A Guide to Child Rearing (160 pp., $2.95 pb).

Explosive Evangelism, by George Jaffray, Jr. (Tyndale Bible Society [Box 6006, MacDill AFB, Fla. 33608], 106 pp., $1.75 pb). Good, practical advice on personal evangelism. Avoids set formulas but suggests typical approaches.

The Substance of the Faith and Other Cotton Patch Sermons, by Clarence Jordan (Association, 160 pp., $4.95). Books of sermons need to be particularly distinguished to merit listing in our limited space. These are by the late founder of Koinonia Farm, an interracial community in south Georgia. Jordan was a well-educated Southern Baptist preacher who dared to demonstrate the New Testament teaching that in Christ ethnic distinctions are irrelevant. The sermons are colloquial rather than cultured and pointed rather than polished.

Extra Spiritual Power, by Don Gilmore (Word, 146 pp., $3.95). Considers “second sight” a gift of the Holy Spirit, freeing man from anxiety. At times ESP proves prophetic; it is questionable, however, whether the phenomenon is necessarily God-inspired, as the author considers it.

Extremism Left and Right, edited by Elmer West, Jr. (Eerdmans, 152 pp., $2.95 pb). Conference messages by eight Southern Baptist professors on the Marxists, Black Panthers, John Birch Society, Hargis’s Christian Crusade, and the like. Stresses common features and appropriate Christian responses.

They Chose to Live, by J. Herbert Gilmore, Jr. (Eerdmans, 206 pp., $2.95 pb). A modern equivalent of Paul’s confrontation with Peter in Antioch. The former pastor of First Baptist, Birmingham, tells of his failure to lead a majority of the voting members of the church to accept two blacks as members. He rejoices, however, that at least a sizable minority repudiated this anti-biblical move. Long quotations give the views of the segregationists.

Rock, Bach and Superschlock, by Harold Myra and Dean Merrill (Holman, 123 pp., $4.95). A history of rock, an off-beat introduction to Bach, and a great big love of the sheer joy of music make this work one to get into your teen-agers’ hands and heads.

Popular Belief and Practice, edited by G. J. Cuming and Derek Baker (Cambridge, 331 pp., $19.50). This is the eighth in the series “Studies in Church History,” which contains papers read at meetings of the Ecclesiastical History Society (of Britain). The twenty-six papers examine topics in most of the Christian centuries and are linked by an interest in the neglected matter of what the church meant to the common man. (The previous volume in the series, Councils and Assemblies, focused on leaders.)

Yearbook of American Churches, 1972, edited by Constant Jacquet, Jr. (Abingdon, 272 pp., $8.95). A standard reference work with a new publisher. Especially useful for name, address, and statistics for the denominations and councils of churches (local and national) participating in the ecumenical movement and a few of the other large bodies. Varying amounts of data about some of the many other groups is inconsistently given. A good introduction warns about the limitations of church statistics.

Wars and Rumors of Wars, by Roger L. Shinn (Abingdon, 298 pp., $5.95). In this two-part book, the author first describes his experiences as a U. S. Army captain in the Battle of the Bulge and German captivity, and then turns to the moral and spiritual problems of war today. Compassionate and searching, but necessarily inconclusive. The 1972 Abingdon Award winner.

Sidney Rigdon, 1793–1876, by F. Mark McKiernan (Coronado [Box 3232, Lawrence, Kan. 66044], 190 pp., $7.50, $3.50 pb). Biography of one of the most interesting of the early Mormons; his claim to be the rightful successor to Smith was accepted by only a handful of the movement’s members.

The Teacher’s Bible Commentary, edited by Franklin Paschall and Herschel Hobbs (Broadman, 830 pp., $12.50). Southern Baptist pastors and teachers combine to present a very practical commentary, aimed at Sunday-school teachers. There is little attention to details of biblical criticism, but a generally conservative position is presupposed.

The Pentecostals, by W. J. Hollenweger (Augsburg, 572 pp., $7.95). A country-by-country survey of twentieth-century Pentecostalism by a one-time Pentecostal minister who later served as head of the World Council’s Division of Mission and Evangelism. The German original (1969) was the outgrowth of a multi-volume doctoral dissertation. The author’s assessments are colored by his own pilgrimage away from evangelicalism. This book is an extremely important addition to the growing body of literature on the fastest growing movement in contemporary Christianity.

On the Way to the Future, by Hans Schwarz (Augsburg, 254 pp., $6.95). A substantial study of hopes for the future in Old Testament, Christian, and secular thought, emphasizing the reality and finality of God’s judgment following the amillennial return of Christ. Comprehensive and clear.

Communication and Confrontation, by S. U. Zuidema (Wedge [229 College St., Toronto 2B, Ontario], 432 pp., $8.95 pb). An impressive collection of essays by the retiring professor of philosophy at Amsterdam’s Free University, collected, translated, and published in his honor by appreciative Canadian students. Very valuable studies of Barth, Jaspers, Gabriel Marcel, and Bultmann, among others, are here made available in English.

The Hellenistic Age: The World History of the Jewish People, Volume VI, edited by Abraham Schalit (Rutgers, 426 pp., $20). Covers the political history of Jewish Palestine from 322 to 67 B.C. Fourth volume to appear in this impressive twenty-one-volume project by Israeli and American scholars.

Signals From the Bible, by H. M. Kuitert (Eerdmans, 95 pp., $1.95 pb). Thirty brief, provocative, useful reflections on such topics as the jealousy of God, sin, and glory by the ethics professor at Free University, Amsterdam.

The Labyrinth of the World, by John Comenius (University of Michigan Slavic Department [Ann Arbor, Mich. 48014], 203 pp., n.p., pb). Major work, freshly translated, of a leading seventeenth century evangelical and educator.

Religion and the New Majority: Billy Graham, Middle America, and the Politics of the Seventies, by Lowell Streiker and Gerald Strober (Association, 202 pp., $5.95). A religion professor at Temple University and a consultant to the American Jewish Committee provide an unexpectedly sympathetic portrayal of Graham and his fellow evangelicals. They marshall data from studies of varying reliability and emerge with some interesting and debatable suggestions and conclusions.

A Companion to the New Scofield Reference Bible, by E. Schuyler English (Oxford, 165 pp., $4.50). As a companion to a perennial bestseller, Oxford has published what is in effect a concise, well-written, and clear handbook of basic theology from the perspective of pre-millennialist Protestant orthodoxy.

Elijah, by Howard Hendricks (Moody, 64 pp., $1). Five sermons by a master preacher that make Elijah live for us today and also provide a model for preaching on other biblical personalities.

The Signs of an Apostle, by C. K. Barrett (Fortress, 144 pp., $3.25 pb). A leading Bible scholar offers his views on what apostolicity meant in the primitive Church and what it means today. Barrett is dubious of the claim that “apostolic succession” is essential. His book will be of special value to members of denominations involved in union discussions with episcopal bodies.

Religious Policy and Practice in Communist China, by Donald E. MacInnis (Macmillan, 392 pp., $7.95, $3.95 pb). An indispensable book for all who are especially concerned with Christianity in the world’s largest nation. Some 117 documents since 1949, including all the significant government statements, are given in whole or in part, together with informative introductions.

Jesuit Child, by Macdonald Hastings (St. Martins, 252 pp., $7.95). Combines Hastings’s experiences in a well-known Jesuit school with an interpretative history of high points in the famous order’s four centuries of work, witness, intrigue, and controversy. Very readable.

Masques of God: Form and Theme in the Poetry of Henry Vaughan, by James D. Simmonds (University of Pittsburgh, 255 pp., $9.95). Since T. S. Eliot, interest in the seventeenth century’s Christian poets has risen. Simmonds thoroughly and sensitively explicates Vaughan’s poetry. This should prove a major addition to the growing body of material on this enigmatic poet.

A Century-Old Standard

Biblical Commentary on the Old Testament, by C. F. Keil and F. Delitzsch (ten volumes, Eerdmans, reprinted 1972, 11,505 pp., $69.50), is reviewed by Carl E. Armerding, assistant professor of Old Testament, Regent College, Vancouver, Canada.

When a fresh edition of a hundred-year-old book appears, we may well ask why, especially when the book is a commentary, a genre of literature so easily outdated by new finds in linguistic, archaeological, and historical science.

This question inevitably arises with the new ten-volume printing of the Biblical Commentary on the Old Testament by C. F. Keil and F. Delitzsch, first published in German between 1861 and 1875 and translated into English in twenty-five volumes 1864–78. (Another printing of this edition in six volumes is in progress by Associated Publishers and Authors.) The commentaries of John Chrysostom may be preserved for their homiletical value; the works of Calvin and Luther live for their theological worth; but the commentaries of Keil and Delitzsch are primarily philological—the very sort of work we should expect to be short-lived.

Perhaps a brief sketch of the authors’ lives and work will help unravel the mystery. Johann Friedrich Karl (normally listed in his publications as Carl Friedrich) Keil was born in Saxony in 1807 and did his greatest work as a professor of theology at Dorpat (Tartu in present-day Soviet Estonia) from 1833 to 1859, after which he worked for the Lutheran church in Leipzig from 1859 to 1887. His colleague, Franz Delitzsch, was born in Leipzig in 1813 and taught in the universities of Rostock, Erlangen, and Leipzig throughout a long career that ended with his death in 1890.

Both men were Lutheran stalwarts and were thoroughly familiar with all the tools of philological biblical study. Each in his own way was also involved in the controversies surrounding the spread of biblical-critical methodology, first as a champion of orthodoxy, and Delitzsch later on as advocate of a moderately critical approach. And perhaps most significantly, each saw his life’s work as a calling to prepare others to serve Christ. Keil’s best years were spent in educating a whole generation of Baltic-area pastors who adhered to a high view of Scripture, while Delitzsch pursued a life-long concern to train men for missionary service among Jews.

Neither man was exempt from charges of compromise, though Keil led the fight for orthodoxy, along with such worthies as Hengstenberg. But those who then (as now) eschewed any use of critical methodology would have little use for the kind of work represented in these commentaries, and Delitzsch especially became the target in later life of extensive criticism. Without question the latter’s commitments to certain critical presuppositions, particularly with regard to the Pentateuch and Isaiah, were increasingly influenced by Wellhausian scholarship, but Delitzsch himself claimed to the end that his views were consistent with a historically reliable, divinely inspired revelation from God in Scripture.

The real strength of the commentaries is that they reflect the best of their age in historical-critical scholarship. Though indeed much has been added to their work, little in their writings needs to be deleted. For this the conservative scholar may be grateful. Various theories, both liberal and counter-liberal, have passed away in the years since 1875, but solid exegetical work, as represented in the familiar K. and D., stands worthy of continued use.

Many a contemporary evangelical might accuse such men (were they alive today) of complicity with the liberal establishment. Both were men of the university. Both mastered the tools of technical biblical science. Both fought the battle within the established church. And to this reviewer it is significant that the same evangelical church that today might be restive with such “mediating” scholarship as that of Keil and Delitzsch is now producing the demand that calls for yet another edition of the commentaries.

Eerdmans is to be commended for cutting both the number of volumes and the price. May its labors be rewarded with a good sale of a still valuable reference work.

A Disappointing Survey

Contemporary New Testament Interpretation, by William G. Doty (Prentice-Hall, 1972, 176 pp., $7.95, $3.95 pb), is reviewed by Paul Garnet, assistant professor of theological studies, Loyola College, Montreal.

The reader who hopes to find in this book an account of the methods and results of modern scientific exegesis will be disappointed. The work is only peripherally concerned with the primary exegetical question, “What did the original author really mean?” Dr. Doty is interested in much more than “the self-consciously directed language” of the text, and he finds the analysis of this to be a “somewhat tedious,” though necessary, process.

His main concern is to describe how modern theologians cope with the question, “What does this mean for us today?” He limits himself almost exclusively to radical German and American hermeneutics. Rejecting biblicism as the only “heresy” in the proper sense of the word, the author takes the view that, though there is something worthwhile in Christianity, this is not to be equated simply with the teaching of the Bible. This assumption gives rise to the problems that the modern hermeneutic enterprise seeks to solve.

The subject is difficult to handle with clarity, since it is several removes from anything very concrete. The author has tried to help matters by providing a glossary at the end. Understanding might have been further aided by a more liberal provision of examples on a less casual basis. There is hardly any actual explanation of biblical texts.

In The Journals

The Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly (801 De Mun Ave., St. Louis, Mo. 63105; $5/yr.) is the only journal devoted to the history of Lutheranism in its various American branches. The May, 1972, issue was the largest ever and commemorated the 125th anniversary of the founding of the Missouri Synod with several articles on various aspects and periods of the synod’s history ($3.50/copy).

The century of the Protestant Reformation has a new journal of its own, the Sixteenth Century Journal (3855 Lucas and Hunt Rd., Suite 216, St. Louis, Mo. 63121; $6/yr. for two issues). The April issue has six articles; among the topics are Luther and violence, and the rights of Tudor women.

Suddenly, a Noise

Some of us who at least secretly like to think we are somewhat sophisticated have a hard time associating God with irregularity or noise. We expect noise from every quarter but God’s, and we approach the Most High with a Psalm-fragment: “Be still, and know that I am God.” We picture old saints discovering the Lord in vast solitudes. We think on the silent forces that move cosmic worlds.

Then into our silent reverie burst the Jesus people. They sing with almost irreverent gusto. They aim their forefingers at the sky and shout, “Right on with Jesus!” We wince a bit, deeply aware of the ravaging power of emotionalism. Do these kids think God is hard of hearing?

We are a little gun-shy of any raucous exercises in the kingdom of heaven. We dote on the peace that pervades as we gather for a quiet hour in the holy sanctuary. Still, at times we are forced to remember that the Church has not always been characterized by placidity. We particularly recall that there was a rather clamorous moment “when suddenly there came from the sky a noise like that of a strong driving wind, which filled the whole house where they were sitting” (Acts 2:2, NEB). And those Spirit-charged people made such a commotion that others came running to see what was happening. Imagine such a thing occurring in our usual Sunday-morning church service!

Granted, this notable phenomenon at Pentecost happened only once in the history of the Church; still, once should be enough to demonstrate that God can be around in something other than the atmosphere of “blessed quietness.”

What’s more, Luke’s journal of the young church strongly suggests that those believers were not altogether distinguished by serenity. The Book of Acts is rather a noisy book! Dr. Van Dusen, president emeritus of Union Seminary, once remarked that Peter and Paul would probably feel much more at home in any Pentecostal meeting than in our formalized and sophisticated services.

The late Samuel Shoemaker used to say that every church needed some “quiet fanaticism.” Some of us are not very keen on any sort of fanaticism; but if there is to be any around we would like to have it very quiet!

I have spent many quiet days in calm, sunny Florida. But once I encountered a hurricane there. Although I can scarcely recall what the calm days were like, I will never forget that “mighty rushing wind.” Could it be that while God’s Spirit usually operates noiselessly in the world, at times he needs to confront us with something like a big wind? Unbelievers in Jerusalem may never have been jarred out of their complacency by a spiritual zephyr. And probably such a breeze may never have blown those disciples in every direction with the Gospel! Possibly to the most formal mind there has come an urge to see one of heaven’s hurricanes sweep over a yawning congregation!

Tranquility did not always characterize those gatherings where Jesus communicated with people. Some days there was anything but calm. And once when he was climbing a hill toward Jerusalem some “Jesus people” followed him shouting, “God bless the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory to God!” (Luke 19:38, TEV). Some religious chiefs demanded that these noisy followers be hushed. Jesus replied, “I tell you that if they kept quiet, the very stones in the road would burst out cheering” (Luke 19:40, Phillips). Something there is in the world that will praise its Maker! One recalls how in the last psalm the poet enlists everything that can make a noise for the business of exalting God.

Having said all this, I still have no relish for excessive noise in worship services. I am still pretty skittish about congregational demonstrations. But I do think that perhaps we should not quickly disown from the great Brotherhood those who to us appear too noisy. We seek quiet and peace with God; yet unquestionably God sometimes arrives in the “noise of a strong driving wind”—if for no other reason than to jar us out of our stubborn drift toward religious smugness.

Above all, should we not receive God wholeheartedly, whether he comes in ghostly silence or with the cheers of those who cannot keep silent about their great deliverance? Possibly some of our more staid souls, should they draw nearer to the noisy ones, might suddenly get the urge to join the cry, “Right on with Jesus!” Those who disturbed the quiet at Pentecost wound up with several thousand fresh members for the Church! There might be some lesson there for those of us, who like tranquillity and regularity in the worship of God.

Whether Christ comes to us in wind, earthquake, or “the still small voice,” whether he breaks in on us in the solemn sanctuary or through the jubilant street people, whether he comes in the front door or the back, we Christians should all say, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus.” For whatever door he comes through, his presence cracks our facades of cynicism and heals our wounded love.—LON WOODRUM, United Methodist evangelist, Hastings, Michigan.

‘… and We Thank Him for Our Food’—Or Do We?

Should the ancient practice of saying grace at meals be continued in this pressure-packed, sophisticated society? Protestants in growing numbers are abandoning this form of public worship. Studies have shown that during the 1930s and 40s there was a marked decrease in family worship, including saying grace at meals. The early 60s saw a resurgence in giving thanks at home but a definite decline in doing so in public. Often children seem willing to pray in a restaurant but the parents are ill at ease (Families in the Church: A Protestant Survey, pp. 35, 185).

Christ believed in saying grace and practiced it publicly. The practice has long served as a hallmark of dedication; if a person wants to be recognized as a Christian, few actions will establish his identity more quickly.

The Old Testament has a very clear command about giving thanks at mealtime: “When thou hast eaten and art full, then thou shalt bless the Lord thy God for the good land which he hath given thee” (Deut. 8:10). This was to be the Israelites’ attitude as they possessed the new land; they were not to take for granted God’s blessing on his chosen people.

In time the practice of giving thanks for food became complicated and stiflingly rigid. The people developed certain formulas of prayer for fruits of the trees, other formulas for fruit of the ground, for breads, for vegetables, for milk, and so on. Deciding what prayer to use for something as complex as fruitcake must have caused endless debate.

The example set by Jesus Christ in the New Testament is direct and simple. There are accounts of three occasions on which Christ paused to give thanks before eating, and we can assume this was his regular practice.

1. Feeding the multitude (Mark 8:6–9). Jesus gave thanks for the loaves and blessed the fish. Mark 6:41 reports the same procedure with another crowd.

2. Celebrating communion (Mark 14:22). Christ blessed the bread and gave thanks for the cup.

3. Eating with disciples after the resurrection (Luke 24:30, 31). With the two disciples near Emmaus he blessed the bread before distributing it.

The New Testament epistles mention thankfulness and food several times, but these passages seem to say more about attitudes of the heart than actual forms or methods (i.e., 1 Tim. 4:3–5; 1 Cor. 10:28–31).

After considering these various passages, the Christian must ask himself whether the Scriptures present the practice of giving thanks for food as a command or as an optional practice.

Just how widespread this practice was among the early Christians is uncertain. Outside the Scriptures, two writers—Clement of Alexandria and Tertullian (c. 190)—mention that believers offered prayer, praise, and readings before they ate and read psalms and sang hymns afterwards.

Today, although spoken grace before the meal is the most common form, some people sing their table grace, while others give thanks after eating as prescribed in Deuteronomy 8:10. Part of the solution for those who are bored with daily and often empty repetition may be to vary methods of engaging in this form of worship.

Those who say grace should know why they do so. It is wrong either to thank God or not merely because of social pressure. For Christians to bow and pray simply because other Christians demand or expect it is false. And to refrain from giving thanks because of the presence of unbelievers is equally delinquent. True worship must operate on a level above the crowd.

Some reasons for saying grace are:

1. Habit. In all probability many Christians tilt their heads and close their eyes before eating almost as a reflex action. They give it little thought. Habits are not bad; however, one must ask whether rote worship has any validity. If the practice is mindless, then it needs some ventilation and revival.

2. Thankfulness. Many Christians are very aware of their dependence on God and of the many undeserved blessings they receive. The believer who prays purely from a full heart can be sure he is doing what is right. Genuine gratitude will find a way to express itself and needs no laws.

3. Witness. Saying grace as a testimony of allegiance to God appears to be effective. First, it can be a source of blessing and encouragement to other believers. Seeing someone in a restaurant or an office lunchroom bow his head in reverence encourages other Christians present. And it might lead to conversation and Christian fellowship. A person who is in the service or in a new job or school and is searching for Christian friendship may find that saying grace signals other believers to search him out and identify themselves.

Saying grace can also serve as a witness to the unconverted. This willingness to be different may signify dedication, and in all probability the observing non-believer will feel respect rather than scorn. Paul Little in How to Give Away Your Faith suggests that Christians tactfully explain to an unsaved meal companion what they are doing, being careful not to sound superior or self-righteous.

4. Training. Many parents are faithful in saying grace at each meal as a continual reminder that God is part of the family’s daily life. The warning that must be flashed at this point is that parents may be conveying the opposite impression to their children. If they routinely utter the same lifeless words at each meal, the children may see the habit as empty and hardly worth perpetuating. If the practice is to train well, it must be rich with honesty. Vary the methods: sing, take turns, let each one express one thing for which he is thankful. Avoid the repetition of thoughtless words.

A passage that probably has as much significance as any is Zechariah 7. The people said, We have fasted all during the Exile; now that it is over, do we still have to fast? The reply was, Why did you fast? If you fasted just for form, give it up. But if it was a form of worship, keep it up.

If saying grace is a meaningless ritual, why bother? If it is a sincere expression of gratitude—right on!

AN X, A BIRD, A BOAT TURNED UPSIDE DOWN

An X, a bird, a boat turned upside down

Draw You, and drawing us to You,

Draw the mostly unknown

Down, and nearly into view,

Although the light is dim and flickers far too much.

Our sight

Is not enough … And yet some say

That we may reach

And (very lightly) touch

We see

An X, a bird, a boat turned upside down.

HENRY HUBERT HUTTO

William L. Coleman is pastor of Sterling Evangelical Mennonite Church in Sterling, Kansas. He has the B.A. (Washington Bible College) and M.Div. (Grace Seminary).

Missions in Retrospect and Prospect

Many people are finding it hard to hold a balanced view of the missionary nature and task of the Church. Harsh criticism of the Church’s performance has come both from within the ranks and from outside observers. To the extent that criticism serves to force rethinking of methods and policies, it is to be welcomed and encouraged.

However, some Christians now seem thoroughly confused about mission and unable to respond intelligently to criticism. Reactions typically run toward one of two extremes: a defensive denial of the validity of the criticism (which closes off the possibility of serious reexamination) or a ready capitulation to the critics (with a de facto abandonment of serious missionary purpose).

What is needed is a middle ground of tough-mindedness from which we can face valid criticism squarely and still stand firm on the supreme calling and privilege of the Church, to be “ambassadors on Christ’s behalf.”

We do not stand with Zinzendorf and Carey at the beginning of the modern missionary movement; we are being seen against a broad historical canvas. Unless we face that history honestly, we shall not be freed of past compromises. This will continue to rob the Church of credibility and conviction in its witness.

The present uncertain vision of the Church’s mission no doubt reflects the wider loss of self-confidence that has afflicted the peoples of the West since 1945. Instead of rallying around the spirited slogan that challenged the Christian forces of a previous generation—“The evangelization of the world in this generation”—we have had to struggle against “Missionary, go home!” However, to try to repair the missionary’s bad image by withdrawing him is no solution at all. It is to answer one disobedience with another.

For more than twenty years, the most alert missionary statesmen have been interpreting the significant passage we are making from one era to another. However, one is impressed more by the paralysis of thought that has characterized many missions than by creative new departures. The traumatic closing of China in 1949 did bring on some profitable reflection and soul-searching. Unfortunately, the evidence suggests that the lessons learned there had little influence on the practice of missions elsewhere.

In Retrospect

For those with eyes to see, the ethnocentrism that has long characterized the modern missionary movement has become intolerable. In 1910, the year of the Edinburgh Missionary Conference, Western missions were already being called to order by the budding Indian Christian leader V. S. Azariah, who told the conference:

Through all the ages to come the Indian Church will rise up in gratitude to attest the heroism and self-denying labours of the missionary body. You have given your goods to feed the poor. You have given your bodies to be burned. We also ask for love. Give us friends [Edinburgh 1910, 1910, p. 111].

This plea, prophetic in its insight, was only dimly perceived by many. Edinburgh was a watershed moment. Although the Western church would still send many more missionaries around the world, Western domination would increasingly become a stumbling block.

Our parochialism was expressed through cultural attitudes. We saw it as intrinsic to missionary obedience to impart Western culture and standards as a part of the Gospel. The heart of the problem was that the missionary was intent on substituting one particularism for another, rather than introducing a new universal perspective against which each particularism must ultimately be judged and recreated. Our parochialism prevented us from seeing that the Western church had mistaken its own at-homeness in a particular world view for faithfulness, and that it was proceeding to call converts to this compromised Gospel. The corpus christianum was still acting powerfully to create after its own kind.

The guises of our ethnocentrism were many, but the one most resented by the rest of the world was the assumption of racial superiority. Not all missionaries were guilty, to be sure; but all were part of a common civilization, and the individual exception was not always visible.

Today there is a heightened awareness of ethnic, regional, and national differences, and pluralism is approvingly accepted. Unfortunately, this did not characterize the relations between Westerners and other peoples of the world in the past. And always, the Christian mission was the monopoly of the white western Christian.

An ally of ethnocentrism was the world-wide presence of Western political and economic power. Besides the obvious protection this gave missionaries, particularly in countries like China that were hostile to Christianity, this fact of Western hegemony had other implications. We can only speculate about the difference there might have been in the way missions developed if the development had come during a time when the West was politically and economically weak. Would the practice of missions have more clearly approximated the New Testament experience?

In any event, Western political and economic expansion went on apace with the spread of Christianity, and we can trace out the influence this had on mission concept and method. There have been at least four major stages in mission development. The first came during the era of Western trade expansion, starting around the opening of the sixteenth century. The missionary, like the trader, sought to establish enclaves from which he could carry on his witness. This frequently included forming a treaty or understanding with the ruler or governor of a territory. Some missionaries contracted to perform certain services for the governor in return for protection or privileges. This “trade” model faithfully reflected the power realities of that time.

The second stage produced a new model, the “colonial.” In the nineteenth century the European powers began their new scramble for territory, and colonialism came to full flower. Concurrently, missionary methods began reflecting a greater concern over territory, and mission fields were divided up among various missions. This system of “comity” was devised to ensure order and amicable relations among missions as well as to facilitate government control. However, it contributed to a more static view of church planting and encouraged a paternal attitude toward a region and its peoples.

The third phase paralleled the rise of nationalist movements. As the colonized peoples began to demand political independence, missions became concerned about the indigenous church, and schemes to encourage devolution were set in motion. This was the “nationalist” model. What seemed justified politically was also thought to be wise from the standpoint of the Church.

The fourth model derives from a theme that has prevailed since World War II, national development. The “development” model has emphasized the responsibility of the national church toward its society as well as extending the goals spelled out during the previous phase of concern with the indigenous church.

Although this generalization oversimplifies the situation, it also serves to make a point. We are always creatures of the times in which we live, but we ought to exercise much critical evaluation rather than bowing to what seems to be the inevitable.

As we look back on missionary experience, we are also struck by the prevalence of bureaucracy. The institutionalism that has come to play an increasingly large role in Western society, including the Church, has been transported abroad as a part of the missionary movement. This extended from the very personal level, where the missionary needed certain supporting structures for his own maintenance to the entire mission as well as the church that resulted.

Even to the casual observer, it was an impressive and complex mechanism. There has been no attempt to measure the full implications of this bureaucratization for either the mission agency or the emerging church. However, there is reason to believe that this example of “mission work” is so indelibly impressed on the newer churches that they are now hindered in seeing the true missionary vision for themselves. What impresses them instead is the tremendous amount of resources required thus far, which they know they do not possess.

A related problem has been the mission’s role of power and influence—made possible and protected through bureaucracy—in contrast to the relatively weak position of a new church made up of economically disadvantaged members. A bureaucracy tends to refrain from self-criticism, and to seek to protect its existence, and this has undoubtedly contributed to the tardiness with which missions have faced up to some basic problems.

The fourth observation about past missionary performance concerns the unsatisfactory understanding of the nature of the Church that has been all too characteristic. Some Protestants assumed the church should include the whole society. This led to difficulty when missionary efforts resulted in the conversion of only a small minority in the society. Another stream emphasized the individual relation to Christ at the expense of the corporate expression. This view makes more difficult the building of a sense of relationship among Christians in societies where group solidarity at various levels is primary. A third variety was those churches that formed a tightly knit cultural group whose religious experience was primarily existential rather than doctrinally articulated. While placing a high value on the reality of the church, they were not prepared to understand it apart from the ethnic context.

Other strains of experience might be identified, but the over-riding observation is that missions did not bring to their task as clear an articulation of the nature and mission of the Church as the situation and times required. Little wonder that there have been serious difficulties in resolving questions of mission-church relations, and that the proliferation of specialized mission agencies, good and necessary as many of these groups have been, has contributed to the confusion of how to relate all of this to the mission of the emerging church. The persistent problem of the professional, salaried ministry in the church situation of Asia, Africa, or Latin America might have taken a different turn had we been studying the nature and mission of the Church in the new context rather than transplanting old, culturally loaded models.

Yet despite the ethnocentrism, the too heavy psychological and physical dependence on Western political power, the burdensome bureaucracy, and the unclear understanding of the church, the Christian community was planted in countless corners of the world. Many of these Christians have been tested in the fire of political upheaval and have gained psychological and spiritual independence in the process.

As for the missionary image, there are growing signs that this epochal experience called the modern missionary movement is coming in for a reappraisal by secular historians as well as Christian scholars. The unexploited research resources present in mission and church archives promise to throw a new light on the relations that have developed between the West and the rest of the world since 1800. The courageous and prophetic role of missionaries like F. M. Zahn, who vigorously opposed the colonial policies of both Germany and Great Britain in Togoland, can well illumine the way for us in undertaking the tasks ahead of us. In the late 1800s Zahn was arguing:

If it can still be hoped to Christianize a complete people and to found congregations capable of handing Christianity on, it is a prerequisite for this task to give the natives an indigenous education, i.e., in their mother tongue. We should therefore offer the most strenuous resistance to the pressure of the colonial government to introduce teaching in a foreign language. We must always remain conscious of the fact that every time we give in to the government in this matter, we hammer a nail into the coffin of our best missionary hopes [quoted in H. deBrunner, A Church Between Colonial Powers, 1965, p. 112].

In Prospect

Any attempt to foresee the future shape of mission must first take into account the fact of the presence of churches around the world. If it is legitimate, as I feel it is, to speak of the church universal, we must also immediately speak of the mission universal. It is both a heresy and an act of paternalism to continue placing a dichotomy between a church—however fledging it may appear—and that church’s missionary calling. We have been ready to encourage the new church to evangelize locally but have been disappointed and frustrated when zeal began to flag and the preoccupation turned inward. Yet by our attitudes and actions we have encouraged such Christians to feel that they are not yet competent to see a greater vision.

Might it not be, furthermore, that if these younger churches, with their admittedly slimmer resources, seize the initiative and launch into mission, they will discover some of the answers that we Western churches have failed to learn in communicating the Gospel and building the Church?

In fact, this has already begun to happen. It is most clearly occurring among the so-called independent or indigenous churches, which have fewer inhibitions than the mission-founded churches and a growing sense of mission. Thus, for example, the Church of the Lord (Aladura), founded in Nigeria in 1929, spread throughout West Africa and then founded congregations in Great Britain several years ago. In November, 1971, the primate, E. O. A. Adejobi, presided at the formal opening of his church’s first congregation in New York City. This church’s vision is world-embracing.

All this suggests that a new perspective on the Church and its mission is demanded. We who have grown accustomed to controlling the initiative and resources must visualize and put into practice new ways of conducting ourselves. Otherwise we give the lie to all talk of brotherhood and the Lordship of Christ.

Another needed step in thinking about the future of mission is to become attuned to God’s kairos, the just right moment in his timetable. The Christian should be prepared to live with both a sense of urgency about doing God’s will and a relaxed confidence in His sovereignty. This enables us to take the long view and to wait until the right moment arrives.

Not only must we learn to live and move with God’s time; we also must come to terms with the times in which we live. The principle of adaptation laid down by the Apostle Paul is timeless. Becoming “all things to all men” will break the inflexible and require initiative that the weak do not have. Their calling is likely not to be to the frontiers, where faith meets unfaith and suppleness of spirit and courage are demanded.

The psychotherapist Rollo May reports in Love and Will that through his experiences with many people over the years he has learned that the neurotic and artist in a society are the ones who anticipate the dominant mood and concerns of the next decade. After the Second World War Dr. May and his colleagues noted that their patients showed considerable anxiety. By the sixties it was widely acknowledged that the United States had become an anxious society.

As Christians concerned to see the Church fulfill its missionary task, we must more fully discern the times. Experts in various disciplines seem to be more acute in their perceptions than we have been.

Therefore, we must discover in new dimensions that the Holy Spirit is the agent of mission. There is broad agreement that the role of the Spirit in mission has been largely ignored in the past. In the first place, the Holy Spirit is the source of transformation. The flexibility in structure required to meet the demands of the future will come only through the Spirit. Second, the Spirit gives true continuity. Recent discussions defending mission structures in relation to the Church seem to suggest that continuity rests with maintaining particular structures. The greater missionary faithfulness for which we earnestly pray will be assured only through submission to the Holy Spirit. Finally, the Holy Spirit represents to us universality, for he is universally present and active in loving all men and calling them to repentance and faith in Jesus Christ. Not only must our missionary obedience be tested against that standard; our discipleship should give visibility to the “new thing” that this represents.

A perspective that has been just as much ignored as the Holy Spirit in our consideration of mission is the eschatological. By and large Western Christians during the past century have been largely unresponsive to this dimension of Christian faith, partly because their daily existence was more secure and easier than that of any other people in history, but also because of the self-confidence and optimism that growing Western power encouraged. The message carried to the peoples of Asia, Africa, and Latin America was largely stripped of its eschatological significance through this process of acculturation in the West. This was happening at a time when many people in the world longed desperately for a message of hope. Their longing was met with a flat and uncomprehending stare from the West.

To live in hope and be missionaries of this good news about hope means that we ourselves already know what the ultimate outcome will be in God’s time and have begun participating in it. We do not proceed into an unknown with only the past as guide; we appropriate from that ultimate victory our instructions for the present task. The ethical is informed by the eschatological.

The German churchman Ernst Lange noted recently that “Christians are still living with a parochial conscience in an age of universal history.” There are those who face the complexities and imponderables of our times by setting their faces toward the past and marching toward it. If we have discovered the meaning of “Almighty Meekness”—to borrow Norman Grubb’s apt phrase—and are prepared to live accordingly, then our credentials are of the highest order for being missionaries to the dawning age of universal history.

Wilbert R. Shenk is secretary for overseas missions under the Mennonite Board of Missions, Elkhart, Indiana. He has an M.A. from the University of Oregon. He formerly was a teacher, field director, and fraternal worker in Indonesia under the Mennonite Central Committee.

Why History? A Defense of God’s Revelatory Medium

Christianity teaches that God is the Lord of all, even history. He started history by an act of creation, he governs it by his providence, he entered it in the person of Christ, and he will terminate it at the final judgment. Chronologically, one can develop the scheme of divine redemption by a series of revelatory historical events: Creation, Exodus, Exile, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. Unlike the Greeks, who sought to explore the nature of God by abstract reasoning, the Hebrews and Christians pointed to God’s actions in time, in history, actions that revealed his eternal nature.

Yet many thinkers still find quaint and downright scandalous the belief that God would reveal himself in history, that he would cloak himself in the limited and the particular. Why, they ask, would God have disclosed himself in past events? Why should the Almighty compel me to rummage through happenings of thousands of years ago to find him? Why must the sovereign Lord of the Universe play hide-and-seek with me, his putative creature, who supposedly radiates his image? If this Infinite Personality really exists, he must be the most important entity in the Cosmos. Why can’t he make himself contemporary? Why would he hide, especially from his offspring? Would an earthly father do this?

So the objection runs. But what specifically is the problem with the belief that God reveals himself in history?

The critic points out that history isn’t immediate; it is removed—removed from the person God is trying to reach, especially if the revelatory event happened thousands of years ago. Being removed, history is therefore contingent, uncertain. You can never be absolutely sure that anything happened exactly as the story has come down to you. You are at the mercy of the eyewitnesses; you get the event secondhand. And if the story is two thousand years old, as is the resurrection account, you’ve really got a problem. In sum, it seems unjust for God to shower signs and wonders on the first generation of Christians and leave the sixtieth generation with only a collection of books documenting those original miracles. History loses its certainty the further away you get from the original event. Why did God use a fallible earthen vessel for his revelation?

Now, anyone who argues this way is really restating his version of an ancient complaint, the complaint that—for the outsider—the truth of Christian theism cannot be established by either a mathematical demonstration or a direct personal experience. Granted; but who proved that God might not use another method of revelation if certain conditions warranted it? If sin has distorted man’s thinking (a fundamental Christian tenet), then history might not be such a quaint method of revelation as some think. It might be admirably tailored to fit man’s present predicament; it might be a very appropriate way for God to disclose himself to man—as man now exists.

This idea has hovered at the edge of my mind for several years, and when I recently read a passage from Pascal it lunged dramatically into the center of my thinking. Pascal reasoned that if God had wished to overcome the stubbornness of the most hardened of unbelievers he could have done it by revealing himself so openly that the truth of His existence would be inescapable. But, Pascal continued:

It is not in this manner that he chose to appear in the gentleness of his coming; because since so many men had become unworthy of his clemency, he wished them to suffer the privation of the good that they did not want. It would not have been right therefore for him to appear in a way that was plainly divine and absolutely bound to convince all mankind; but it was not right either that he should come in a manner so hidden that he could not be recognized by those who sought him sincerely. He chose to make himself perfectly knowable to them; and thus, wishing to appear openly to those who seek him with all their heart, and hidden from those who flee him with all their heart, he tempered the knowledge of himself, with the result that he has given signs of himself which are visable to those who seek him, and not to those who do not seek him [Pensées, #309].

My thesis is that history may be an ideal way for God to “temper” the knowledge of himself so that he is partly revealed and partly concealed. The person seeking God will rejoice at what is revealed, however partial, but the person fleeing God will use the partial to justify his unbelief.

How does history reveal God? Well, to give the classic case, if a man could perform miracles, rise from the dead, teach a high ethical code and embody that code in his own person for a period of time, and then ascend into heaven, I think most people would conclude that he was divine or had divine power. That’s why Christians can say with conviction: Jesus Christ reveals God.

But there’s the rub—Christ revealed God to the eyewitnesses of his own time. They were the only ones who directly observed all these things. As soon as you get to the second generation, you get to the partial; you must accept the testimony of eyewitnesses. That’s why history partly conceals God, particularly to those past the first generation. If Christ would only return to each new generation and arrange his affairs so that every human being could observe these marvelous events for himself, then God’s revelation in him would be much easier to confirm.

But then, that’s where sin comes in again. Maybe it would be wrong, yes, even indecent, for God to expose the evidence for the faith so frankly. Maybe it would be like casting pearls before swine. Maybe God tucked the evidence back into history so the diligent seeker would find it and the unbeliever would fail to find it because of his prejudice.

We can see this point better if we consider the paradoxical nature of history. People “back there” make history, true, but the practicing historian makes just about as much history as the original participants in the drama. History is objective in the sense that the events happened outside the minds of us all and are thus amenable to the investigation of all. Yet at the same time history is, in a sense, subjective, because events are not immediately accessible to all—except the eyewitnesses. What happened “back there” must be reconstructed by the practicing historian “right now.” You cannot go and personally observe the resurrection of Jesus, but this doesn’t make the event totally inaccessible to your investigation. Events in the first century are removed, but not totally removed. In a sense, you “see” the event through the eyes of competent witnesses. Perhaps we should say history is “remotely objective.”

History and faith, therefore, are closely akin because both demand the attitude of trust before you can use them at all. The layman must trust the work of the historian; the historian must trust his witnesses and his documents; even the witnesses must have first trusted their own senses. This trust, like any kind of faith, isn’t credulity or gullibility; it has sufficient reasons, but it is still not rational certitude. History is like man, in Pope’s words,

With too much knowledge for the skeptic side,

With too much weakness for the stoic’s pride,

He hangs between.…

By being a kind of centaur, partly objective and partly subjective, history avoids two extremes to which people often go in reflecting on the certainty of divine revelation: rationalism and mysticism.

History avoids rationalism, because you must have some faith when you assent to a historical proposition. Unless someone develops a time machine, there will always be some uncertainty about an event in history. Nowhere in history (or in most of life, for that matter) do you escape the necessity of believing and trusting in others—a condition that fairly enrages some consistent rationalists. If you insist on believing only what you can directly experience, then history will be the first sacred cow to perish from your skepticism. You would have to live in the eternal present, because even your own memory would not be immediate enough!

History avoids mysticism, on the other hand, because it insists that the revelatory event is not totally subjective. An event actually occurred back there, and thus it is not locked up in anyone’s mind. Having occurred objectively, it is from then on available to all inquiring minds. Furthermore, your apprehension of an event can be verbalized and described; it is not ineffable, for you can tell others of the event and invite them to examine it.

Both rationalism and mysticism seem to promise certainty, either by inescapable deductive operations or by perfect personal contact. Both dislike the distance, the partial contact, affirmed by the moderate position of faith and history. Yet this is precisely the strength of the moderate position: it has enough reason to keep subjectivism from degenerating into sheer superstition, yet enough mysticism to keep rationalism from evaporating into the air of intellectualism. History and faith go hand in hand, because together they combine the best elements of rationalism and mysticism. They create a subtle balance between knowledge and hope, a beneficent tension between reason and will, analysis and choice, head and heart, logic and axiologic.

Just as faith is a state of conviction midway between certainty and credulity, so history is a mode of revelation midway between total disclosure of God and total ignorance of God. Those who seek God with a pure heart and an open mind will find him in history, for his revelation there is adequate. But for those who have already made up their minds that they will not believe, history is unconvincing; they gleefully point to its uncertainty, its contingency, its lack of demonstration. Very well, God lets them remain in their unbelief, for if history were totally demonstrative, their intellectual acceptance of Christian theism would have no impact on their wills. As Pascal concludes: “There is light enough for those who desire only to see, and darkness enough for those of a contrary disposition.”

Jesus had a disciple who distrusted history: Thomas “the Twin.” When Thomas heard the other disciples testify, “We have seen the Lord,” he said, “Unless I see the mark of the nails on his hands, unless I put my finger into the place where the nails were, and my hand into his side, I will not believe it.” A week later the risen Lord appeared to Thomas and granted his request: “Reach your finger here: see my hands; reach your hand here and put it into my side; be unbelieving no longer, but believe.” Thomas responded: “My Lord and my God!” The final words of Jesus in this episode sum up this essay very well: “Because you have seen me you have found faith. Happy are they who never saw me and yet have found faith.”

Arlie J. Hoover is chairman of the Department of History and Political Science at Pepperdine College, Los Angeles. He has the Ph.D. from the University of Texas and did post-doctoral research at the University of Heidelberg.

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