The Factory: A Christian Frontier

Ten years ago Bill Gowland was minister of the Albert Hall, Manchester, which with more than 1,500 members was one of English Methodism’s key pulpits. Yet always in his mind was the haunting concern of how to reach those millions to whom the Church was irrelevant. Characteristically he saw a parable in the leper squint, a feature still to be seen in certain ancient churches in Britain. The leper squint was a small window through which the leper, in his completely outcast plight, could watch the service being conducted. Millions outside the Church, with no intention of coming in, were still contemplating the Church’s doings from afar, some with a new curiosity.

To Bill Gowland, a congregation displaying a cosy insularity (“ghetto-minded” is his phrase) was sowing the seed of its own destruction. A new imaginative approach was needed and a new mode of expression: references to lilies and sheep were alien to men working with coal and steel. The 42-year-old Methodist pastor stated his aim thus: “The kind of places in which we wish to operate are those in which men and women work and play, sweat and swear.” The industrial town of Luton (population now 150,000), thirty miles northwest of London, offered a fitting challenge to a man of vision and courage, and there he went with the blessing of The Methodist Church, in 1954. Thus was born Luton Industrial Mission. He took over a moribund church which had a seating capacity of 2,000—and a congregation of 60. By 1959 it had 500 members and was growing at the rate of 100 per year.

But this was not the whole story. “We must bridge the gulf between pavement and pew,” he asserted, “and get onto the factory floor.” And he did. The chaplain who had at first been introduced at an employer-employee conclave under “Any Other Business” became a familiar figure who through selfless love and infinite patience won his way into the hearts of those who had lost sight of their eternal destiny.

Here, in industry, Gowland insists, is the most effective forum of our day. In a little book, Militant and Triumphant, he had pointed out that the Communist target was not a majority in Westminster (in Luton two months ago the Communist Parliamentary candidate polled a mere 1,200 votes), but a strategic minority in the trade unions, shop stewards, trade councils, and other focal points of working-class life. In this vital sector of the world-struggle Christians have been conspicuously absent, leaving empty thrones for Communist occupation and thus abandoning millions, workers and employers alike, to the mercy of stark materialism.

William Gowland is now universally recognized as the foremost expert on the subject of the Christian relation to industry. Consultant of many trade unions, managements, and groups in all parts of the world, he has lectured widely in the United States and Canada, and returned a few months ago from Australia, where he established the pattern of industrial evangelism.

In 1957 he found Luton Industrial College, where he gave priority to the training of chaplains. This work continues, but with greater emphasis now on the layman. The chaplain is regarded as the bridgehead, but the layman has a permanent foothold, and in his hands is the real task of the Church in industry. So far several hundreds of men—chaplains, shop stewards, apprentices, and managers—have graduated from the college. One year the college was swamped with 3,000 applicants. Hospitality is given by local townsfolk, who hold Gowland in high respect; but funds for the residential accommodation on which he has set his heart are badly needed. Only when Bill Gowland feels that chaplains, lay members, and lay preachers have been adequately trained does he allow them to do evangelistic work on the factory floor. Similarly, he will not receive anyone into membership of his church unless he is convinced that the candidate will become a militant Christian. “I just can’t afford to have passive Christians at Luton,” he declares. Last month his church was crowded at a memorial service for President Kennedy at which a U. S. Air Force chaplain gave the address.

With the church and college Gowland runs also a community center to demonstrate Christian faith and practice in persistent social concern. Sixty per cent of its 1,100 members are non-churchgoers (“this is how it should be”). Gowland’s voluntary staff help in visiting homes, ministering to the needy, running extensive campaigns, and conducting open-air meetings. The whole project is run on a shoestring: Gowland has one ministerial assistant and a tiny administrative staff. He is a modest man who disclaims all credit for his truly staggering achievements, stressing that the glory is God’s alone.

In October last the mission celebrated its ninth anniversary, and in his report Bill Gowland made a typical point: “If industry is in parts dirty and difficult, that is all the more reason why we should find the way by which it can be made to serve the purposes of God.”

Advertising The Gospel

Can the language and methods of advertising be used to put across a basic Christian truth?

Mennonite Broadcasts, Inc., sponsors of “The Mennonite Hour” and other religious radio programs, are currently testing two series of brief radio messages aimed at the man in the street—one series written by them, one by an advertising agency—to get an answer to this question.

The Mennonites’ “sermonettes,” written by Stanley Shenk, a Mennonite minister, take one minute and are being broadcast once a day for six months. The agency’s promotional “spots” take thirty seconds and were broadcast for nine weeks, at the rate of 120 messages a week. The two series were planned for two undisclosed cities, the secrecy extending through the duration of the test to avoid prejudicing the results.

It was made clear that the experiment was not intended as a formula for “instant salvation.” “We can’t preach the whole Gospel,” said Kenneth Weaver, executive director of Mennonite Broadcasts. The idea was rather to find out whether a “basic Christian truth” could be put across.

The Mennonites are trying this novel approach to gospel broadcasting because they believe that “the usual religious program attracts an audience which already has some tendency toward spiritual orientation,” as the chairman of the Minute Program Committee, Dr. Henry Weaver, puts it. “Such a program serves a worthwhile purpose, but we feel we also have a mandate to reach the unchurched,” Dr. Weaver said. He also said that he hoped that the program would ultimately bring those reached in touch with a church, although the immediate aim is solely for comprehension of the message.

A research firm has been retained to measure attitudes before, immediately after, and six months after the programs. As far as anyone has been able to determine, this is the first time that modern audience research techniques have been applied to a religious broadcast, according to Alvin A. Sarra, senior account executive of Henry J. Kaufman and Associates, the agency handling the project. Both programs are aimed at men between 18 and 40, he said. There are no Mennonite churches in either broadcast area.

Since final returns are not yet in (the agency’s nine-week series was completed in November, but the six-month sermonette series will run until February), neither the agency nor the Mennonites are making official statements about how the experiment is going; but privately they are reported encouraged.

Here is a sample of the messages prepared by the agency;

Young but mature, highly enthusiastic male voice. “My children love life,” says the young father.

Round, vibrant voice—sincere in sound and pitch. “I give life,” says Jesus Christ. Echo chamber. “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

Selling voice—varied in pitch, range, and tempo. Help your children to live a new way—live abundantly—really live! Teach them to take the gift of new life that only Christ can give. Take Him, too. He forgives sins. He leads to new understanding and enjoyment of life. Don’t keep Him waiting any longer! Don’t let your children miss out!

Here is one of Shenk’s messages:

This is a minute; it may be your minute.

Many people who have never accepted Christ as sin-forgiver think they’re good Christians—just because they’re Americans and have never killed a man or robbed a bank.

Many who have never accepted Christ as leader think they’re Christians just because sometimes they ask God to follow along like a good fellow and give them a hand.

The religion of these people is a foggy combination of self-satisfaction, personal convenience, once-in-a-while church attendance, and thinking of God as the Man Upstairs. They know next to nothing of true religion.

A man gets a start at real religion when he accepts Christ as sin-forgiver and leader. Then he gets a whole new outlook on life—and he finds what religion is.

GEORGE WILLIAMS

Theology

The Christian Conquest of Fear

Fear not; I am the first and the last, and the Living One, and I was dead, and behold, I am alive for evermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades (Rev. 1:17c, 18; read vv. 1–20).

“Let the visiting minister tell us how to conquer our fears.” At one of our largest and most representative of colleges so responded a majority of the students to a questionnaire concerning what they wished to hear during special services twice daily for a week. Hence one of the sermons had to do with our Lord’s noblest saying on the subject, as it concerns three issues ever supreme. Today he bids us be—

I. Unafraid of Life. Think of its responsibilities. Often you ask yourself: “Can I make good?” Even Moses trembled before his mighty responsibilities. And Paul cried out: “Who is sufficient for these things?” Once when in a despondent frame a man attempted to snuff out the candle of life. After he was prevented, I asked him why he had attempted to end it all. He answered: “Because I was afraid to go on with life.”

People are afraid, for one thing, because they feel dependent: dependent upon God, and upon one another. Also, because they stand in the presence of vast mysteries, especially sin and sorrow. But Jesus comes to us who believe and says to us, one by one: “Do not be afraid of life. I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.”

II. Unafraid of Death. Here our Lord reminds us: “I was dead, and behold, I am alive for evermore.” He is ever with his people now, especially when they come to die. With joy John Wesley declared: “Our people die well.” They were unafraid and triumphant. Week by week the pastors of our churches witness triumphs of faith over death. Hence they are able victoriously to exclaim with Paul: “Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

III. Unafraid of Eternity. Here Christ says: “I have the keys of death and Hades.” That word “keys” shows his authority, his guidance, his control. Just as he has cared for his people in life and in death, so will he prepare for you in eternity. “I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye may be also.”

Are you trusting in Christ as your personal Saviour? Do you gladly bow to him as your rightful Master? If your heart answers “Yes,” go your way without hesitation or fear. Your personal relation to Christ will determine your relation to life, death, and eternity. He is our Saviour, our promised and infallible Guide, even unto death, and throughout the vast beyond, forever. Well do we often sing: “He leadeth me.” As we sing it now, who wishes openly to confess him and follow him?

From Follow Thou Me (Nashville: Broadman Press, 1932).

Theology

More than Conquerors

In all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us (Rom. 8:37: read vv. 1–33).

In Romans 7 Paul revealed something of the terrific struggle in the soul of one who has allied himself with Christ. Here the Apostle has been giving a personal illustration of his journey through justification and sanctification toward glorification. Now he proclaims his certainty that victory is possible through the power of the Holy Spirit.

I. Victorious Living (1–17). Chapter 8 is different. The struggle has given way to quiet trust. Peace reigns. The Holy Spirit comes into our lives, first to convict, then to bring us to Christ, and thus to bring about regeneration. The Holy Spirit is also the Giver of sanctification. Often we consider holiness a lofty peak, almost inaccessible, too difficult for any except a few choice spirits. Paul makes it clear that striving for holiness is a sacred duty binding on all who name the name of Jesus. Then follows adoption. What more could make a Christian ready to major on living the holy life? As the Spirit leads we long to find full holiness.

II. Patience under Suffering (18–32). Paul wants us to share in the glory enjoyed by our Saviour. Meanwhile the Apostle bids us be patient in all our sufferings. The Spirit helps us to pray, and as God’s called ones to accept the plan he has had for us through the ages. When we respond to God’s call we become new creatures in Christ. In the midst of our sufferings we have the assurance that God is in full and complete control. He makes all things work together for our good and his glory. God keeps, guides, sustains, comforts and empowers his own through the constant ministry of the Holy Spirit. The saved man comes into the fullest realization of God’s purposes for him and shares eternal glory with his Saviour, the Lord Jesus.

III. Golden Assurance (31–39). All the way we have had divinely given notes of assurance. Now we are brought up suddenly with pointed questions. Who can stand against us? No power anywhere can match strength with eternal God. He is all-powerful and supreme. Does he love us? This question brings out the greatest verse in Paul’s writings: “He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not also freely give us all things?”

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Nothing anywhere can sever the golden chain that binds the heart of God to his people. Earth never has known anything like the love of Christ. You are in the middle of that love. You are one whom he has commissioned the Holy Spirit to inhabit. Why should we not lead victorious lives? We follow in the footsteps of One who has given us the supreme example of living above earthly desires. No power in the universe can separate us from the love of God. Let us determine that our lives shall be worthy of our calling.

From Preaching from Great Bible Chapters (Nashville: Broadman Press, 1957).

Theology

Contentment in Christ

I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content (Phil. 4:11b).

Writing from prison, where he faces death for the sake of Christ, the Apostle tells how as a believer he has formed the habit of feeling contented. Surely he was not born that way. Even after he had been born again he had to learn this lesson in the school of Christ. So do many of us here today.

I. The Meaning: Glad acceptance of your lot, as the gift of God. An individual matter, contentment not because of heredity, but through learning from God. A. Acceptance of the self with whom you must live. Only to a slight degree can anyone change his temperament. But by the grace of God anyone can make the most of all his God-given powers. B. The place where God puts you to serve. Here again, joy comes through acceptance, not through chafing or rebellion.

C. The people with whom you live, in some cases far from ideal. Indeed, one of them may seem like your cross. D. The conditions amid which God would have you grow. In all of this do you believe that your life is a plan of God, and that by his grace you should find contentment in your lot? For a living example of what this means turn to the life of John Bunyan. While in prison for twelve years, because of loyalty to Christ, Bunyan learned the secret of Christian contentment.

II. The Schooling. Paul had to learn this lesson, and so may you, in much the same fashion. It appears in his three Greek verbs. A. By reading and study of the Bible, in daily prayer. Why not begin with this letter about joy? B. By watching others whom you admire. Who is the happiest person you know, despite hard times? The least happy, amid the most pleasant conditions? Why the difference? Surely because one friend has learned to be Christlike. The other has not. As with Paul, contentment comes to the one who best knows God.

C. Have an inner experience of God’s grace. The third Greek verb means, literally, “to be initiated” into the secret of the Lord. This in turn means that by his grace the Lord comes to live in you, and that by faith you begin to live in him. What else has God a right to expect from every person who has been born again?

The Minister’s Workshop: Form and Freedom

Among the Phillips Brooks reminiscences is one that goes back to his first days in seminary. He observed that in the devotional meetings there were certain students who would pray with rare fervor. But then came Brooks’s disillusionment: next morning in the classroom these same students showed with shocking clarity that they had not done their homework in Greek. Wryly Brooks commented, “The boiler had no connection with the engine.”

The misplaced connection between zealous prayer and disciplined study suggests a similar relationship that preachers frequently mishandle. Our business is to correlate homiletical form and pulpit freedom in such fashion that the maximum impact is delivered at the point of congregational and personal response. Put any tag on the sermon that you will—evangelistic, didactic, practical—if it is worthy of the name, it must be, in Jowett’s famous phrase, preaching “for a verdict.” To go back to the Brooks figure, the steam of inspiration requires an efficient enginery for its use.

So long as men practice the arts—music, painting, sculpture, rhetoric—the question will occur and recur: What is the relation between form and freedom? Obsession with form results in style. Style, however, carries no guarantee of content. Obsession with freedom means the uncovering of reality, but with no assurance that it will be transmitted in a fashion that will make it either attractive or assimilable. Break the marriage and, as always with broken marriages, something precious is forfeited. This holds for preaching, which, though more than an art, is not less.

Let us go back to an eminent preacher born two centuries ago. For more than fifty years the pulpit of Holy Trinity Church, Cambridge, was occupied by Charles Simeon, of whom Lord Macaulay once said, “As to Simeon, if you knew what his authority and influence were, and how they extend from Cambridge to the most remote corners of England, you would allow that his real sway over the Church was far greater than that of any Primate.”

The present Archbishop of York, the Very Rev. Donald Coggan, a close student of Simeon’s career, has given five reasons why the preaching of this renowned servant of the Word had such extraordinary effects. One of them is this: “his revival of the formal sermon-scheme.” Simeon is on record as having said that for the first seven years of his preaching he “did not know the head from the tail of a sermon.” The turning point came when he got hold of a monograph, written by a French Reformed pastor, entitled “Essay On the Composition of a Sermon.” Later he translated it for the conclusion of his monumental series of sermon volumes known as Horae Homileticae, wherein may be found 2,536 sermons!

Simeon discovered that a worthy sermon has form, structure, rhythm, inner relationships of logic, and outer vestments of rhetoric and illustration, through which the energy of biblical truth can run like the electric current that flows through a properly wired house. The discovery did not destroy his freedom: it channeled it—and enhanced it. The homiletical hobo, wandering hither and yon through the wide open spaces of the preaching hour, became the sermonic soldier, with gleaming gun-barrel, controlled fire-power, and a bead on the target.

Did this attention to the craft of the sermon cost Simeon his freedom? One may presume that the switch from meandering to method may have seemed awkward for a little while. But then came a freedom wider than ever, and far more authentic. Always, the method subserved the message.

One day a very small girl sat listening to Simeon as he preached. Looking up to her mother, she asked in a whisper, “What is the gentleman in such a passion about?”

Fire, freedom, spirit—it was all there! And along with it, as its vehicle, an artistry which, at least in dedication, was worthy of the incomparable Gospel being preached.

Let us have done, then, with this false antithesis between form and freedom. They belong together. Let us have done, too, with the opaqueness and laziness that stand between us and some recognizable degree of proficiency in our preaching task—the opaqueness that sees it not in its importance and the laziness that dares it not in its achievement.

Books

Book Briefs: January 3, 1964

How Baptists Are Built

The Baptist Way of Life, by Brooks Hays and John E. Steely (Prentice-Hall, 1963, 205 pp., $3.95), is reviewed by John J. Kiwiet, associate professor of church history, Northern Baptist Theological Seminary, Oakbrook, Illinois.

The authors have been working jointly on this book, which is part of the “Way of Life” series published by Prentice-Hall. It was prepared for the general reader rather than for the specialist in denominational history (p. xiii). The major trends in Baptist life, especially among Southern Baptists, are delineated in a clear and elucidating way.

The first section of this book is a survey of Baptist history. The great times of Baptist life are its beginnings on English and American soil during the seventeenth century, and also the period of frontier life in which Baptists played a significant role (c. 1675–c. 1950). The third great period of Baptist development, according to the authors, is the present day, which characterizes itself by rapid growth and by a bewildering scene of explosions in various areas of life.

The authors then proceed to take up the main Baptist teachings. They consider the following to be major points of agreement among Baptists: the emphasis on conversion and personal commitment; the centrality of preaching in worship; the symbolic understanding of the sacraments; and the unfulfilled challenge of social ethics in Baptist church life. It is sometimes not clear whether the authors describe present Baptist understandings or challenge the Baptists themselves to a renewed approach; this is particularly so in Chapter 4, where they criticize certain interpretations of the experience of conversion. In the matter of race relations the authors conclude: “We are advancing slowly; but we are advancing” (p. 87).

The third and largest section of this introduction to Baptist life is devoted to the topic, “How Baptists do their work.” We now enter the sanctuary of Baptist self-understanding, and we encounter their great principles of local church government; separation of church and state; participation of laymen and women in church life; evangelism and education—all of this under the observance of the New Testament pattern. The authors twice quote a statement that they believe accurately characterizes membership in a Baptist church: “It takes a strong constitution to be a good Baptist” (p. vi, p. 105). Large numbers of Baptists, however, live under prohibiting circumstances, e.g., the young churches on the mission field; churches under persecution; several of our own city churches. They cannot carry on an extensive evangelistic and educational program, but they too consider themselves as vital Baptist churches.

The book concludes with a section on Baptist contributions. The authors make no secret about the weak emphasis on theology and hymnology among Baptists. Although they have their great theologians and hymn writers, Baptists have relied for a large part on general Protestant theology and hymns. The closing chapter on religious liberty shows that Baptists still are in the midst of their search for freedom of religion for all men.

With this well-written and very informative book the authors succeed in introducing us to genuine Baptist life. We discover, too, that Baptists do not feel they have “arrived” yet, and that they still have to exert themselves to meet a wide range of problems and challenges—from the minor ones at the local level, to the far-reaching national and international issues of our day.

JOHN J. KIWIET

Journalistic Diversion

The Church of England, by Paul Ferris (Macmillan, 1963, 224 pp., $4.95), is reviewed by J. D. Douglas, British editorial director, CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

A 34-year-old secular journalist gives here a well-written, selective, and superficial impression of various facets of the Established Church. His grasp of the true nature of the Church of Jesus Christ is perhaps understandably tenuous, but when it comes to recounting ecclesiastical scandals and controversies, he doesn’t miss a trick. Atheists-in-heaven, Lady Chatterley and the Bishop of Woolwich, the Balham defrocking case, London slums owned by the Church Commissioners, the Provost of Guildford row, Harry Williams’s unorthodox views on fornication—they’re all here.

It is not an altogether objective picture, for Ferris has his prejudices and journalism will out. Thus, speaking of the single evangelical college he visited, he says, “Everyone has his ‘personal testimony,’ which he will give at the least provocation, describing how a man, a book, or a random thought began a process that (in most accounts) passes through a state of prolonged prayer, kneeling on a hard floor, before the truth of Christ became apparent” (p. 27). Seeing that this college’s principal had a photograph of Billy Graham on his desk, Ferris comments: “Many Anglican clergymen, particularly Anglo-Catholics, wince at the sight of those big lapels and blazing eyes.…” There are coat-trailing references to “thoroughgoing fundamentalism” and “the gimlet eyes of Conservative Evangelicals.” Anglo-Catholics, on the other hand, are for the most part treated with marked sympathy.

Though this book gets in several shrewd digs at officialdom, it makes some curious judgments—the editors of Prism will be intrigued to find themselves labeled as “a High Church ginger group”—and quotes even more curious statements, like that of the Church Commission executive who explained about part of that body’s $900 million resources: “We try to keep our hands clean, only it’s pretty obvious nowadays that if you’re investing in equities you can’t keep clear of armaments.” The reader is alternately entertained and depressed, grateful for the diversion but thankful that this is only journalism after all.

J. D. DOUGLAS

Good Or Bad?

Constructive Aspects of Anxiety, edited by Seward Hiltner and Karl Menninger (Abingdon, 1963, 173 pp., $3.50), is reviewed by James Forrester, president, Gordon College and Gordon Divinity School, Wenham, Massachusetts.

This book is the record of a frank interdisciplinary exchange between clergymen of various denominations and psychiatrists of various schools of thought focused productively upon the question of anxiety. Some of the “work papers” form the content of the book.

Ishak Ramzy points out that the position first taken by Freud that “no forces other than the physical, chemical ones are active within the organism” proved to be too penurious for the clinical data. Freud, after three decades, emerged with the psychological observation that anxiety is the reproduction of early experiences of denial of protection or love. Ramzy suggests that if the emphasis is on the “signal” function of anxiety, it can have no positive use.

Hiltner expands upon Freud’s emerging ideas of anxiety and affect and his “continuum” toward pathology. The second of Hiltner’s papers is a perceptive approach to anxiety in the theological terminology of Kierkegaard, Reinhold Niebuhr, and Tillich. When man senses his freedom as a potentiality, he must accept responsibility for what he does with his freedom. His freedom is the precondition of his sin, and his subjective response to this awareness is anxiety. Whether anxiety is to be construed as constructive or destructive “depends upon the response made and executed by ego, self, or person.” Freud, Kierkegaard, and Niebuhr are seen as in some agreement regarding the “normative function of the total process of which anxiety is a part” (p. 61). Tillich relates anxiety in an ontological context to the “existential awareness of non-being.” Hiltner suggests that the others “all agree, against Tillich, that what makes confrontation possible is not the message of anxiety itself but … strength of ego or freedom of the self” (p. 65).

Fred Berthold suggests that anxiety seen only in clinical perspectives appears to be “disteleological” and restrictive of productivity. He attempts to make the case for anxiety as an aspect of the creativity of man. Viewed in the Christian context, the “anxiety of guilt” has a creative element intrinsic to it. It drives us to seek a cure and “to resume our quest for the image of God” (p. 84).

Albert C. Outler discusses anxiety and grace in the perspectives of Augustine. He establishes a helpful differentiation between anxiety as “cognition” and anxiety as “emotion.” He sees the constructive aspects of anxiety as related to cognition. He sees anxiety through the prism of a theological existentialism. On the “constructive” side anxiety “may serve the function of posing the problem of selfhood in its ultimate dimensions” (p. 100).

Charles A. Curran sees two impulses making for positive outcomes from anxiety in the Judeo-Christian tradition. These are an “anxious striving” toward maturity and an “anxious longing” for lasting identification with God. It is possible, in the Christian understanding, for anxiety “to come full circle from striving and longing to fulfillment” (p. 118).

Paul W. Pruyser sees the clinical approaches to anxiety as putting the emphasis upon affect and appraises its role as potentially pathogenic. In theological perspectives he denies that anxiety necessarily produces cognitive awareness of finitude. Paradoxically, for the study of the subjective side of anxiety one needs the live experience of anxiety; but the anxious person is the least able to make a “phenomenological study of anxiety” (p. 137). Pruyser’s paper suggests that the theological approaches tend to seek constructive functions for anxiety but the empiricists insist upon specific identifiable causes.

Dr. Hiltner has made a significant attempt to bring psychology and theology into a common area of discourse and to present a unified definition of anxiety (p. 154). The impression hopefully emerges that anxiety is not to be seen as wholly malignant, but may be seen in some dimensions of existence as a provision of the grace of God for the preservation of the integrity of the totality of the human being. Theology is concerned with “some kinds” of “danger and challenge” in terms of how they can be met. The clinician may still need to be convinced that anxiety is a value to be exploited rather than a syndrome to be removed. His method may be too parsimonious to accommodate the spiritual need of man.

JAMES FORRESTER

A Good Missionary Story

Bill Wallace of China, by Jesse C. Fletcher (Broadman, 1963, 157 pp., $2.95), is reviewed by L. Nelson Bell, executive editor, CHRISTIANITY TODAY, and former medical missionary in China.

This is the story of a missionary whose name and skill as a surgeon became a legend in South China. With a dedication equaled by few, he set his mind to one task, “the best of medicine” and a clear witness for his Lord, regardless of danger.

Here is a story of a dedicated life, exceptional professional ability, and the adventure and tensions of working during the war-torn years of the Sino-Japanese conflict, and later of the take-over by the Communists. It is the kind of story young people will revel in; they will catch a new vision of the meaning of Christian dedication.

The final chapters tell of the coming of the Communists to Wuchow, first with fair words, then with severe restrictions, and finally with imprisonment and death.

Here is a picture of the raw hatred communism has for Christianity. When Dr. Wallace was arrested on trumped-up charges, the Chinese of Wuchow, Christians and non-Christians alike, refused to participate in the “trial”; and when he died in prison because of tortures inflicted on him, the local Christians defied the Communists in order to erect a monument over his grave—an enduring witness to his faithfulness even unto death.

There are too few good missionary books. This, by a writer with an unusual gift, is an inspiring exception.

L. NELSON BELL

Responsible To What?

The Responsible Self, by H. Richard Niebuhr (Harper & Row, 1963, 183 pp., $3.50), is reviewed by Bernard Ramm, professor of systematic theology, California Baptist Theological Seminary, Covina, California.

This volume is H. Richard Niebuhr’s basic ethical theory. It is not an easy book to read, for Niebuhr is interested not in specific ethical principles nor in specific ethical cases but in the so-called phenomenology of morality. He bypasses traditional ethical theories and contemporary theological ethics in an effort to present that which he feels is the very core of ethical action.

That core seems to be the concept of a responsible self (responsible to the self, to God, and to society) who in a given situation or context chooses that act which is fitting. Thus Niebuhr carries on a continual diatribe against teleological or deontological ethics as they represent an act in isolation from the ethical agent. Only the responsible self (which includes responsibility before God and his actions, p. 86) is the true ethical agent. Again, it is wrong to discuss ethical theory apart from philosophical, psychological, and sociological considerations. Only from the latter can we ever decide what the fitting action is.

Niebuhr admits that he is not writing a theological or a biblical ethics, and that his orientation is more philosophical and phenomenological. However, he hopes that his ethics is biblically informed (p. 46).

I found three things disturbing me as I read a book which is no doubt a profound effort to get to bedrock in ethics. First, I do not believe one can write an ethics and be so removed from the concrete biblical data itself. If the Bible is “dependable, reliable, honest, truthful” in its witness of the life of men before God (p. 23, the words of editor Gustafson), why keep it at such arm’s length? Second, there is no light given on specific cases, and this Niebuhr considered a virtue (cf. p. 13). But it seems to me that it would require a person of extraordinary sophistication to proceed from Niebuhr’s basic theses to specific cases. I carry with me a continuous dissatisfaction with philosophers and ethicists who forever refuse to show concretely what their theories involve. Third, I am unhappy over the concept of fitting. This seems to me to bypass the great theological issue of the command of God. Certainly that which is fitting is the command of God. By bypassing a detailed analysis of this concept, Niebuhr has left this theological flank completely exposed.

BERNARD RAMM

Generally Sound View

Can I Trust My Bible?: Important Questions Often Asked About the Bible … With Some Answers by Eight Evangelical Scholars (Moody, 1963, 190 pp., $3.30), is reviewed by John H. Gerstner, professor of church history, Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Five of the chapters of Can I Trust My Bible? are concerned particularly with the canon and text of Old and New Testaments. Dr. R. Laird Harris rests the case for canonicity on miraculous attestation of authors as he does in his book Inspiration and Canonicity of the Bible, which should be consulted for his more “apologetic” handling of the argument. Professor Meredith G. Kline argues interestingly for the traditional dating of Deuteronomy (p. 150) and charges surviving Wellhausenists with “obscurantism.” Wheaton’s A. Berkeley Mickelsen is content to provide a somewhat statistical and informative lecture on manuscripts plus a table of criteria for ascertaining genuineness of texts. Robert H. Mounce concentrates on Luke’s historical reliability (pp. 180 f.) and also indicates the difficulty of proving biblical error (p. 177), while the University of Idaho’s professor of physics. Edson R. Peck, argues for the harmony of science and Scripture.

As the reader can notice, this symposium tries to prove that the Bible can be trusted as historically reliable; but it may be asked whether the Bible can be trusted as the Word of God. For the most part the authors seem to assume an affirmative answer to that vital query. Three of the essays examine this matter more particularly. Frank Green states that Christians have “a completely adequate and entirely logical basis for believing in miracles …” (p. 46), while Robert Culver, in “Were the Old Testament Prophecies Really Prophetic?,” maintains that the Resurrection is “proof” of Christianity and argues that prophecy of the Resurrection is also evidence; or, rather, that the cumulative effect of prophecies is evidence. Still he says that “any one of these alone might be explained away” (p. 110). Gordon H. Clark, the only professional philosopher writing here, tries to show that conviction of the Bible’s inspiration cannot be based on argument but must be “produced by the Holy Spirit” (p. 32).

Putting the picture together, Can I Trust My Bible? contends that we may, as far as historical accuracy is concerned. However, the inspiration of the Bible is not similarly grounded but appears to be the work of the Holy Spirit directly (without “proof”) persuading the Christian soul. Many other basic problems are untouched or touched lightly; yet on the whole this is a salutary volume, taking a generally sound view and expressing it clearly.

JOHN H. GERSTNER

Still Unintegrated

The Pastoral Care of the Mentally Ill, by Norman Autton (S.P.C.K., 1963, 223 pp., 23s.), is reviewed by Paul D. Fairweather, associate professor of pastoral counseling and psychology, Fuller Theological Seminary, Pasadena, California.

In this book of eight chapters the author defines the role of the pastor and gives practical guidance for ministering to the mentally ill. The pastoral ministry to the mentally ill is described as primarily one of prevention and after-care. The need for cooperation between the psychiatric and ministerial professions is emphasized, and the roles are differentiated in terms of possible interrelation. In addition, the values of religious worship, of administration of sacraments, of prayer, and of Bible reading are described. The appendices include accounts of pastoral clinical training with outlines of courses for the clergy, a new terminology for mental health, a glossary of psychiatric concepts and terms useful for ministers, and an index of scriptural references.

The author emphasizes that the cure of souls is passing more and more out of the minister’s hands. Pastoral counseling in its most unique sense as a spiritual ministry, however, is not clearly articulated. Rather, it is defined in terms of psychological counseling and psychotherapeutic approaches to the person. Knowledge of emotional disorders is recommended. However, the importance of this “knowledge” seems to be that the pastor will thus be able to refer difficult cases to other professional groups. Cautions about not counseling neurotic and emotionally disturbed persons take precedence over a definition of the minister’s contribution as a counseling pastor to such persons. The pastor is warned not to fall into stereotyped ways of dealing with people, but little integration of theological and psychological concepts is attempted. The ultimate therapeutic recommendation is to “be” a Christian with the person. Dogmatic statements and clichés abound throughout. The pastor ought to “love” the neurotic and be “unshocked.” The author points to the necessity of self-knowledge for resolution of neurotic conflict, but does not indicate how the minister is to achieve this. The chapter on psychosomatic disorders is helpful, but of little value to the minister in understanding how persons can be helped in their faith when they are symptomatizing organically. It is believed that the approach to persons, if they are to be helped, will involve something more than “infinite patience,” namely, an ability to understand the psychic conflicts in terms of Christian theology.

The reader is struck by the author’s use of dogmatic adverbs such as “always” and “never” in describing the minister’s role; for example, “the door of his study should always be open to the troubled parishioner.”

This book does abound with practical suggestions for the pastor in his contacts with the mentally ill. But it lacks the theoretical articulation necessary to help the minister find the integration of psychological and theological concepts that must occur in the therapeutic effort.

PAUL D. FAIRWEATHER

Toward A Christian Couch

The Christian and the Couch, by Donald F. Tweedie, Jr. (Baker, 1963, 240 pp., $3.93), is reviewed by Gelmer A. Van Noord, M.D., superintendent, Pine Rest Christian Hospital, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Dr. Donald Tweedie, professor of psychology at Gordon College, has written a sequel to his earlier book, Logotherapy and the Christian Faith (1961), in which he analyzed and evaluated the existential psychiatry of Dr. Viktor Frankl of Vienna. In The Christian and the Couch Tweedie makes a special plea for making the Christian faith central and dynamic to the psychotherapeutic process. He also sees the distressing tensions in mental health research as being clustered about a “lack of an adequate anthropology, and objective axiology, or value system, a distinct therapeutic direction and a governing goal.”

The author courageously attacks a controversial issue in discussing the relation of Christianity and psychotherapy. He discusses the “anti” group, those Christians who “are negative to any inroad of psychological science into the area of dealing with personal problems” (p. 22). Next he considers the views of Christians who “believe that psychological means should be sought out in the alleviation of human suffering, just as food, clothing, shelter, and medicine” (p. 25). He describes as neutralists “those who hold that the Christian faith is neutral to psychotherapy” (p. 28). And he makes a special plea for a Christian psychotherapy grounded in biblical presuppositions (p. 33).

Undoubtedly all Christian psychotherapists will agree that “the Christian has a basic presupposition as he approaches the concept of personality for he believes that the Bible presents significant truths regarding man” (p. 50). However, there may not be universal agreement as to the specific manner in which a Christian psychiatrist will function psychotherapeutically. Dr. Tweedie uses the Bible and prayer as techniques in his psychotherapeutic sessions (pp. 175–79). Although he allows for special circumstances when their use may not be judicious, to the reviewer there seems to be some arbitrariness in the implication that the specific use of the Bible and prayer is necessary inherent in a Christian psychotherapy. Could not a statement of Christian doctrine or a suggestion embodying the law of love be equally Christian and something more therapeutic? Inadequate attention is given to the non-verbal Christian witness (e.g., Christ-like compassionate acceptance and understanding) that is most essential for every Christian psychotherapist who is committed to Christ and to service to God’s, creatures.

In Chapter II, “Man,” Tweedie provides a convenient synopsis of a section of his earlier book. Chapter III on “Mental Illness” presents elementary material which will be of help to those unacquainted with the psychiatric and psychological literature, and the same generalization may be made about the convenient glossary (pp. 229–38).

Chapter IV, “Psychotherapy or Christ; To Whom Shall We Go?” contains an analysis of the psychotherapeutic practices of several Christian psychotherapists: Dr. Paul Tournier of Geneva, Dr. Ernest White of London, and Dr. Orville Walters of Urbana, Illinois.

Chapter V on “The Christian Therapist” provides information on the counseling process and interview techniques. The latter are reflected in several descriptions of psychotherapeutic sessions found in Chapter VI, “The Transformation of Personality.”

Dr. Tweedie exhibits great enthusiasm for the techniques of dream analysis and hypnosis. He also recommends two therapeutic techniques that have grown out of the existential psychiatry of Viktor Frankl: “paradoxical intention,” in which man’s ability to transcend himself and rise above his circumstances and symptoms is challenged (p. 173), and “de-reflection,” which is the turning of the client’s attention away from his symptoms to positive goals (p. 174).

In The Christian and the Couch, Dr. Tweedie has performed a service to and for the Christian community (and hopefully for others also) by significantly focusing on an important modern problem: the scholarly and devout integration of Christianity and psychiatry. He has utilized sources that were not previously brought to the attention of all interested in this integration. (I refer to the writings of many authors who are members of the American Scientific Affiliation and the Christian Association for Psychological Studies.) Careful reading of this book will challenge all Christians engaged in psychotherapy to rethink their psychotherapeutic theory and practice. And Dr. Tweedie’s strong stand for a distinctive Christian psychotherapy will probably encourage profitable discussion. Both would please Dr. Tweedie, because he would like to be convinced if he has not been convincing, and he would be happy to make a pilgrimage in depth with others who have a common commitment to Jesus Christ.

GELMER A. VAN NOORD

A One-Volume Library

Masterpieces of Christian Literature in Summary Form: The Central Ideas of 300 Influential Works on Which Protestant Christianity Is Grounded, edited by Frank N. Magill; associate editor, Ian P. McGreal (Harper & Row, 1963, 1193 pp., $9.95), is reviewed by James Daane, editorial associate, CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

This is the kind of book that any Protestant minister and any Roman Catholic priest would like to have in his study. The only exceptions would be those who have none because they don’t.

The book is a small library. It contains 300 essay-reviews on the writings of almost as many men. About 30 per cent of the titles presented are pre-Reformation—beginning with the First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians, and including works by Abelard, Aquinas, and St. Augustine.

Some essays include a bit of biographical material; others none at all. For the most part the essays are “book reviews” of the most important writing of a given writer prominent in the thought of the Christian Church.

Sub titles are usually composed for a double purpose; to give a fuller explanation of the title, and to provide an inducement to buy the book. This one does both; vet it needs further explanation. It claims to present the central ideas of 300 influential writings, and does so admirably. But it also claims that Protestant Christianity is “grounded” on these. This is true if it is understood that “Protestant Christianity” is defined historically, rather than biblically. From the historical point of view, Hegel, Renan, Rousseau, Wieman, A. Schweitzer, Kant, and others are justifiably included, for they did influence Protestantism. One may question, however, whether Mary Baker Eddy, W. T. State, and some few others have even seriously influenced Protestant Christianity.

But if the editors were induced by the poll they conducted to be a bit too generous, they have by the same poll been induced to fairness. They have included in their book writings of very conservative men, such as Machen, Dooyeweerd, Charles Hodge, Abraham Kuyper, and C. S. Lewis, and have chosen some very evangelical, conservative men for review work.

The stance of the editors is quite neutral. This points up that no survey of Protestant Christianity can ignore evangelical Protestants or their writings. It also indicates that the book is eminently worth buying for its intrinsic value and practical usefulness.

Every essay-review read by this reviewer is expertly done. If you want a competent, though uncritical, review of Barth’s Dogmatics, Cullmann’s Christ and Time, Nygren’s Agape and Eros, Dooyeweerd’s New Critique of Theoretical Thought, Barth’s Epistle to the Romans, Brunner’s Dogmatics, Calvin’s Necessity of Reforming the Church, or his Institutes. Warfield’s Plan of Salvation, to mention but a few, then this is your book, for a price that gives you your money’s worth.

JAMES DAANE

Book Briefs

Religion and Freedom in the Modern World, by Herbert J. Miller (University of Chicago, 1963, 129 pp., $3.95). A professor of the University of Indiana probes the period of 1800 to the present to discover how Christianity fostered and opposed freedom. Even the dissenting reader will read this with profit.

The Cambridge Movement: The Ecclesiologists and the Gothic Revival, by James F. White (Cambridge, 1962, 272 pp., $6). The story of how the Cambridge Movement revived medieval architecture, vestments, and ceremonial in English churches in the nineteenth century.

Amos and His Message: An Expository Commentary, by Roy Lee Honeycutt (Broadman. 1963, 182 pp., $3.75). An interpretative analysis by an author convinced that the divine message of Amos is bitingly relevant for the modern world. The lion roars again.

Preface to Old Testament Theology, by Robert. C. Dentan (Seabury, 1963, 146 pp., $3). A revised edition of a work first published in 1950. For scholars only.

Lutheran Elementary Schools in Action, edited by Victor C. Krause (Concordia, 1963, 414 pp., $6.50). A detailed explanation of what Lutheran schools are, and of how, and for what purpose, they are run.

Your Child from Birth to Rebirth, by-Anna B. Mow (Zondervan, 1963, 152 pp., $2.95). Essays which contain many truths, but often ramble and frequently have little to do with book or chapter title.

That I May Live in His Kingdom, by Louis E. Ulrich, Jr. (Augsburg, 1963, 233 pp., $3.50). Devotions based on the new translation of Luther’s small catechism.

The Negro Protest, by James Baldwin, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, and Kenneth B. Clark (Beacon Press, 1963, 56 pp., $2.50). The transcript of interesting (one unrehearsed), rather angry interviews from tapes made for TV broadcast.

Expository Sermons on Revelation, Vol. 2, by W. A. Criswell (Zondervan, 1963, 184 pp., $2.95). Sound, relevant sermons on the seven churches of Asia Minor, churches checkered with the same shade and sunshine as fall over the Church today.

The Crucible of Love: A Study of the Mysticism of St. Teresa, of Jesus and St. John of the Cross, by E. W. Trueman Dicken (Sheed & Ward, 1963, 548 pp„ $8.50).

A Harmony of the Gospels: in the Knox Translation, edited by Leonard Johnston and Aidan Pickering (Sheed & Ward, 1963, 252 pp., $6).

Unity: A History and Some Reflections, by Maurice Villain, translated by J. R. Foster (Helicon, 1963, 384 pp., $5.95). A fine-spirited attempt by a Roman Catholic to understand the Protestant churches and the Protestant ecumenical movement, which he traces from Edinburgh (1910) to the Second Vatican Council. A genuine contribution to the “Big Dialogue.”

Christian Education and Evangelism, by Donald Gordon Stewart (Westminster, 1963, 176 pp., $3.50). The author takes a serious look at how the educational arm of the Church relates to the voice of the pulpit, that special office and “means of grace.” The book is really a call to the Church to understand what it is doing.

Man in the New Testament, by Werner Georg Kümmel (Westminster, 1963, 96 pp., $2.95). A very theologically modern discussion of the nature of man by a prominent German theologian. First published in German in 1948, now brought up to date by new footnotes. A scholarly treatise.

Paperbacks

Words on Target, by Sue Nichols (John Knox, 1963, 90 pp., $1.50). Best little book available on Christian communication. Full of good examples for ministers in the jet set.

A Short History of the Interpretation of the Bible, by Robert M. Grant (Macmillan, 1963, 224 pp., $1.45). Although it shows the author’s personal position and his own sitz im leben, this is a very valuable and readable introduction to the various methods employed throughout history to interpret Scripture. Originally published as The Bible in the Church, it now appears with a new title, revisions, and a new introduction. Fine collateral reading for students of hermeneutics.

The Lord’s Prayer, by C. F. Evans (Seabury, 1963, 103 pp., $1.25). An explanation of the Lord’s Prayer; brief, but with substance.

The Future of Mankind, by Karl Jaspers (University of Chicago, 1963, 346 pp., $1.95). One of the world’s greatest existentialists speaks on many things social and political, and chiefly on man’s ability to stand up to the grim threat of nuclear war.

William James, from the “Modern Thinkers Series,” by Gordon H. Clark (Presbyterian and Reformed, 1963, 47 pp., $1.25). A critical evaluation of the pragmatism of James.

Philosophers Speak of God, edited by Charles Hartshorne and William L. Reese (University of Chicago, 1963, 535 pp., $2.95). Readings in philosophical theology and analyses of theistic ideas.

Creator Spirit, by Stephan Hopkinson (Seabury, 1963, 102 pp., $1.25). A study of the biblical doctrine of the Holy Spirit, and of his relation to art and science and to the modern idea of society.

The New English Bible, the New Testament of 1961: A Comparative Study, by Oswald T. Allis (Presbyterian and Reformed, 1963, 71 pp., $1.50). A critical discussion of the diction of the New English Bible, and of the method used by its translators.

The Basis of Christian Unity: An Exposition of John 17 and Ephesians 4, by D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones (Eerdmans, 1963, 64 pp., $.50).

The University and Its Basis, by Hendrik Van Riessen; Facts and Values: A Christian Approach to Sociology, by Remkes Kooistra; A Christian Critique of Art, by-Calvin Seerveld; from the “Christian Perspective Series 1963” (Association for Re formed Scientific Studies; 1963; 72, 63, 63 pp.; $1 each). Lectures of substance and stimulation.

The Hidden God, by Cleanth Brooks (Yale University Press, 1963, 136 pp., $1.45). Delightful reading for literati who are also interested in problems of Christian literature.

The God That Failed, edited by Richard Crossman (Harper & Row, 1963, 275 pp., $1.60). Ex-Communists show their disenchantment with Communism. A kind of classic; first published in 1949.

The All-Sufficient Christ: Studies in Paul’s Letter to the Colossians, by William Barclay (Westminster, 1963, 128 pp., $1.45).

Youth and the Church

Among the recent discussions of the problems of American youth today, Teen-Age Tyranny (William Morrow and Company, 1963), by Fred Hechinger, education editor of The New York Times, and his wife, Grace Hechinger, takes high rank for the intelligence and candor with which it faces the problem. It is not comfortable reading; out of abundant documentation it shows things as they are among the rank and file, not of socially and economically underprivileged boys and girls, but of our young people who are being schooled in the most expensive educational system any nation has ever had and whose material advantages exceed those of any of their predecessors in our history. Because of the hard common sense with which it deals with adolescent mores today, Teen-Age Tyranny is of special interest to parents, ministers, teachers, and youth counselors.

For the discerning Christian reader one sentence in the book stands out as even more disturbing than the facts about youthful violence and promiscuity. The Hechingers disavow any religious orientation of their discussion. But when in a scant page and a half they do refer to religion and youth, they offer this thought-provoking observation: “Since 84% of today’s teenagers are church members and more than half attend church regularly, they could undoubtedly be influenced strongly by religious values.” That youth in general are not so influenced confronts the reader on almost every page. Moreover, because a book like this is largely a transcript from life, the failure of the Church to counteract an adolescent culture that has given up the common morality of the Judeo-Christian tradition can be substantiated in almost every community in the country.

Why this failure? Why do the churches, by and large, have so little influence upon our youth? Answers to such questions as these must be found. For what shall it profit the churches to claim as members 84 per cent of the youth, when so many of these young people are living by sub-Christian and even pagan standards?

The question may be answered in part by another quotation from the Hechingers: “Teen-age values are inevitably determined by the adult values around them.” Or, as Professor Henry Steel Commager put it, “The American has boundless faith in the new generation, is willing to make almost any sacrifices for it except those required by self-restraint” (The American Mind). It is plain that youthful conduct reflects adult standards or lack of them. But to admit the truism only leads to another question: “Why has the Church not influenced those many adults whose own moral failures are reflected in our youth?”

At this point evangelicals are likely to say that the answer is clear. Thinking of the prevalence in many pulpits of liberalism with its denial of the radical need for regeneration, they are inclined to blame the ineffectiveness of the churches in producing a stronger morality upon one thing—failure to preach the Gospel. That there is truth in the charge is undeniable. But that it is not the whole truth is equally undeniable. Honesty compels the admission that evangelical churches where the Gospel is faithfully proclaimed also have a good many grave moral problems among their youth and among their adults as well. The Gospel is indeed “the power of God unto salvation,” but to be believed it must first be understood. And to be understood it must be communicated effectively and in the conviction and power of the Holy Spirit.

Consequently, the answer to the problem of a high rate of church membership and a low standard of morality among young people is not so simple as some have thought. In fact, it goes deeper even than the assumption, too common among evangelical Christians, that witness is only verbal.

Let there be no misunderstanding. The presentation of the Gospel in words is primary and essential. The story of salvation through the death and resurrection of Christ must be told in complete fidelity to the biblical sources and in words that the hearer can understand. Yet a preacher, Sunday school teacher, or youth leader may be as orthodox as Scripture itself and fail to reach young people. Orthodoxy just for orthodoxy’s sake neither wins souls nor nurtures Christ’s flock. The message must indeed be understood if it is to be obeyed. And that it can reach even the most thoughtless teen-ager has been shown by such a movement as “Young Life,” which is primarily concerned with effective communication of the Gospel of Christ to high school boys and girls by leaders who love youth, who speak to them out of the conviction of personal experience, and who are first willing to take the time to know them and listen to them. By the same token, it can be effectively presented by pastors, teachers, youth leaders, and, above all, by parents who will make a like effort to understand and be understood.

But the communication of the saving truth of Christ also has, as has already been suggested, a non-verbal aspect. Words are essential for communication. But they do not stand alone. They must be backed by conviction and reinforced by the reality of consistent living. Even the clearest communication intellectually may be vitiated by a lack of love and Christian concern.

Youth longs for reality. It understands instinctively the language of the heart that underlies and transcends the form of words. As Pascal said, “The heart has its reasons that the reason does not know.” Youth knows those reasons. But when it sees adult selfishness and unconcern and when it has set for it examples of moral flabbiness and lack of spiritual discipline, it will not listen to the message of the Gospel that has apparently done so little for those who profess it.

Another thing needs to be said, not as an exculpation of the Church’s failure to influence more of its youth but as a reminder of a profound biblical truth. The Gospel, as the apostle declared, is “a savor of life unto life and death unto death.” Its faithful proclamation does not inevitably bring salvation. Not all will be reached by it. Not all can be compelled to accept it. God respects individual responsibility far more than we do. Not even the most dedicated and skillful preacher or teacher, nor the most devoted parent, is successful in reaching every child. Yet granting this, the disinterest of youth in the Church is so great as to cause deepest concern.

Still other factors must be considered. Evangelism, primary though it is, must be supplemented by activity. Souls, just as bodies, grow strong by exercise. An easy religion has little appeal to youth. The church that caters to youth through parties and recreation and never faces them with the stringent demands of the Gospel and its application to the hard moral and social issues of the times will not build godly character.

The key to the youth problem, as to every other aspect of life and service, is Christ. But the possession and effective use of that key are costly. In the words of Samuel Rutherford, “There are some who would have Christ cheap; they would have him without the cross. But the price will not come down” (The Letters of Samuel Rutherford). So with the meeting of youth’s needs in a time of sagging morality and increasing secularism. The price of presenting the living Christ to youth in words backed by life and integrity makes high demands upon Church and individual. Young people want reality. Behind their rebellion and dubious moral values is a true yet unrecognized search for identity. If the Church is failing to deeply influence youth and is not turning them to paths of righteousness, it may well be because of adult failure to show forth Christ in life as well as word.

‘Elwa’ And The Gospel Outreach

When station ELWA marks its tenth anniversary on January 18, the radio village outside Monrovia, Liberia, will hardly stop to catch its breath in the task of beaming the Gospel to the African nations and beyond. Now a 50,000-watt station that sometimes has four transmitters in operation and broadcasts in forty-one major languages of Africa, ELWA has had a remarkable growth since its small beginnings in January, 1954, as a 1,000-watt broadcast of the Gospel several hours daily to a limited audience. Since entering the shortwave band, ELWA has beamed daily regional transmissions to North Africa, the Middle East, Ethiopia, the Congo, West Africa, South America, and Liberia.

A staff of fifty missionaries and one hundred nationals, most of them trained in radio effort, labor in the village that now represents a capital investment of almost §1 million and is situated along three-quarters of a mile of picturesque Atlantic shoreline. Its 137 acres of land are the only property in Liberia that the government has permanently chartered to white people—by an act of legislature for as long as ELWA continues to fulfill its originally designated mission. Speaking for a land founded on Christian ideals, President William V. S. Tubman has referred to ELWA as “a Liberian institution.”

Like many other gospel transmitting stations in the free world, ELWA honors HCJB in Quito, Ecuador, as the grandparent of sustained shortwave evangelistic broadcasting. In operation for almost a generation, HCJB now has a transmission strength of 70,000 watts. Today twenty-nine such stations are operating. The latest to receive its charter, CABCO Burundi, brings the number in Africa to three. Located in the territory formerly known as Ruanda-Urundi, the Burundi station was scheduled to begin operating after Christmas, 1963.

ELWA is the radio voice of the Sudan Interior Mission, which last year marked its seventieth anniversary and which has 1,300 workers in nine African countries. Yet the radio village in Liberia has become a strengthening arm for all evangelical effort on the African continent. Its latest venture is a twenty-five-bed hospital, now being constructed through sacrificial gifts (including some from American Negro Christians), which is scheduled for operation late in 1964.

The African’s Burden And Ours

“There is always something new from Africa.” These words attributed to the second-century Pliny were still relevant last month when Kenya and Zanzibar joined that continent’s fast-growing roll of independent nations. They are significant additions. Torn asunder a decade ago when the Mau Mau revolt erupted, Kenya had nevertheless in 1944 been the first East African territory to include an African in its legislative council. Such has been the country of Zanzibar’s peculiar geographical importance down the years that an Arab proverb declares that when you play the flute there, all Africa as far as the lakes dances.

Both nations exhibit a wide heterogeneity of peoples, having assimilated the culture of three continents; but Prime Minister Kenyatta’s problems are the greater, in the face of Kikuyu claims, Somali demands in the northeast for secession, inter-tribal dissension, and, not least, a minority group within governmental ranks that sees something in Red China worthy of emulation. The latter is particularly ironic when it is recalled that Britain has done all she could to help Kenya achieve an independence inflexibly denied to Tibet and other Communist lands, despite Marxist mouthings about the equality of man. We may note that in Angola is a similar denial by the successors of that Portuguese government drat blocked David Livingstone’s fight for the African a century ago.

Kenya and Zanzibar now assume control of their own affairs. Many of their leaders have in youth come under Christian influence through mission schools, though some have since found dubious nourishment from other sources. Ours is a burden of prayer, that the leaven of a Gospel perhaps half forgotten may carry out its mysterious transforming work in their hearts. The Israel of Bible days came to appreciate times of political independence as a direct gift from God. May a similar recognition guide our African brethren through their challenging future to establish, not necessarily the British or American method of democracy, but nations remarkable for that fear of God that alone can make countries and peoples perfectly secure.

A Memorial To Shevchenko

During this year of 1964 the world’s forty-three million Ukrainians will commemorate the 150th anniversary of the birth of their greatest countryman, Taras Shevchenko (not to be confused with the contemporary Soviet poet Yevgeni Yevtushenko).

Observances are planned, interestingly enough, both in Moscow and in Washington. The Soviets are erecting a monument in honor of the poet Shevchenko, and the United States Congress likewise has authorized a statue of him.

In recent weeks, however, a campaign has been under way to reconsider the propriety of a Shevchenko statue in Washington. The liberal Washington Post, one of the nation’s most distinguished newspapers, decided belatedly that it did not like the idea. The Post apparently feels that Soviet appropriation of Shevchenko’s image disqualifies him for citation by the United States.

We prefer to consider Shevchenko on his own merits. He was a devout Orthodox layman who rose to literary heights despite the adverse environment of serfdom. He was in servitude for most of his forty-seven years, yet was able to introduce a new spirit into Ukrainian literature. He achieved abiding recognition as a great champion of freedom and liberty. He most certainly never espoused anything resembling Marxism.

Opponents of the Shevchenko statue say that the nineteenth-century poet does not deserve American recognition because he had no specific ties with this country. This represents a new line of argument, however, with respect to monuments in the capital city. For many years there have been memorials in Washington to historic personages like Joan of Arc, Luther, Dante, and several Latin Americans, whose proximity to the United States can be measured only by the fact that they, like Shevchenko, shared an important measure of our ideals.

Some observers question whether Shevchenko’s greatness has been established; but we feel there is much to substantiate a place for him among the ideological pioneers of more recent generations. His reputation will rise as more of his works are translated into English. Additional thousands will share in literary treasures they never knew existed.

Soviet strategists may have an ulterior motive in promoting Shevchenko. It could be to their advantage to hail him as a “Soviet” forerunner and thus blur the ethnic distinction between Russian and Ukrainian. Some 1,000,000 Ukrainians in the United States and additional thousands in Canada believe there is good reason to resist such amalgamation. We support their cause.

The College Aid Bill

President Johnson’s signing of the $1.2 billion college aid bill, so strongly supported by the late President Kennedy, will be remembered as an event in the history of education comparable to the Land Grant Act of 1863, out of which the majority of our state universities came. The bill, with its present authorization of $835 million in grants and $360 million in low-interest loans, may lead to new building amounting to $3 billion. The 2,100 eligible higher institutions will be required to match federal grants 2-to-l and also to contribute not less than a quarter of the total cost of projects to be paid for by fifty-year loans.

Among the features of this legislation, two are especially significant: the compromise of church-state separation in allowing church-related colleges to share benefits on the same footing as secular institutions, and the limitation of classrooms constructed under the grant program to facilities for teaching science, mathematics, engineering, and modern foreign languages.

Debate in Congress showed the impracticality of evaluating what The New York Times called “the almost insoluble admixture of various degrees of church-relatedness in different colleges.” Thus “the wall” of church-state separation will be penetrated by reason of expediency, as Roman Catholic and Protestant colleges receive aid along with the secular institutions. Few if any evangelical colleges, despite the strong opposition of some of them to federal aid to education, will refuse the benefits of the bill, nor should they do so now that it has become law. But one wonders how long in the light of this precedent the barrier against federal aid to secondary and elementary education will continue to stand.

Moreover, the emphasis upon classrooms built under the grant program for instruction in science, mathematics, engineering, and modern foreign languages may tend to augment the utilitarian tendencies of present-day education at a time when, as Dr. Jacques Barzun, provost of Columbia University, recently said, the liberal arts tradition in American higher education “is dead or dying.” This tendency should be viewed with concern by evangelical colleges, because Christian education is most deeply rooted in the liberal arts.

Theology

The Seething Caldron

“As I stood there making a public profession as a Christian, my mind was full of lustful thoughts about a woman near me.”

This was the confession of a man who later came to a deep experience with Christ and in so doing got the victory over his thoughts. Before his death he came to know the blessedness of those who are pure in heart.

The citadel of the mind is the hardest of all to capture for Christ, for the most vocal Christian can retreat within its walls and conjure up thoughts known only to himself—and to God.

The Bible is filled with warnings against the capacity for evil of the mind, often spoken of as the “heart,” the seat of emotions and thoughts. Jeremiah says: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately corrupt; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9. RSV).

Because the cesspool of unholy thoughts can so easily be hidden behind a facade of piosity, we Christians often refuse to face up to it. “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts” is often overlooked as a command for the Christian.

The Apostle Paul was keenly aware of the capacity of the mind for evil thoughts. The list of the sins of our lower nature is depressing, especially when we realize that they have their beginning in the mind: sexual immorality, impurity of mind, sensuality, worship of false gods, witchcraft, hatred, quarreling, jealousy, bad temper, rivalry, factions, party spirit, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and so on. These evil things are present in our hearts in varying degree; in thinking on them there is sin, and in acting on them there is also sin.

Never have Christians needed this warning more than now. We live in a time when the eyes and ears are assailed by things that add fuel to the fires burning within. Yet because the fires cannot be seen we make a distinction between thinking and acting, and the caldron seethes on.

Little wonder that the Apostle Paul, in pleading for lives dedicated completely to Christ, urges that we “let God remold [our] minds from within” (Rom. 12:2, Phillips).

David, in Psalm 51, speaks of this change of heart as a work of “creation.” In an agony of repentance he cries out: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me” (Ps. 51:10).

The same thought is amplified by our Lord in a talk with the Pharisees: “For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, fornication, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a man” (Mark 7:21–23, RSV).

A great deal is said today about “analysis,” delving down into the subconscious, and the “catharsis” of dredging up the evils of the past and present and talking about them. We know there are times when such procedures are of benefit to the disturbed. But that about which we are writing has to do with the apparently “normal” Christian who has never learned the lesson of controlling the thoughts that constantly well up in the mind.

What is involved is a matter of self-discipline by the help of the Holy Spirit. We are confronted with the kaleidoscopic passage of impure images across the retina of the mind, or with the burning fires of hate and jealousy. The images of the mind may also center on pride with all of its ramifications of self-esteem and self-interest.

Against all of these things there must be exercised a God-given discipline, the ability to turn from them to thoughts that are wholesome and constructive. Paul gives us the corrective: “Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Phil. 4:8, RSV).

No two people look alike, nor do any two think alike. One may conjure up and dwell upon erotic thoughts, another may seethe with jealousy and envy, a third may be consumed with pride. But all of these things dishonor the Lord and should have no place in the mind of a Christian. That few of us have conquered this hidden evil is but an evidence of self-deception, and until cleansed by the indwelling Christ the sin remains a festering sore.

Aware of this seething caldron of unholy thoughts within, we too often resolve to abandon it and to turn our minds to other things—only to fail miserably. One day our Lord told of an unclean spirit going out of a man, finding no rest, and returning. There he found an empty heart—emptied of the evil spirit and devoid of a new guest. “Then he goes and brings with him seven other spirits more evil than himself, and they enter and dwell there; and the last state of that man is worse than the first. So shall it be also with this evil generation” (Matt. 12:45, RSV).

Nature abhors a vacuum, and this physical fact is carried over into the spiritual world. Jesus described the Pharisees as making clean the outside of the cup, “but inside you are full of extortion and wickedness.” Obviously, if the indwelling evil of the human heart is to be expelled, something must take its place. For this God has made full provision, the indwelling Spirit.

But before filling there must be cleansing. Just as the infilling is with a supernatural being, so the work of cleansing is a supernatural work, and here Calvary comes into focus. The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews recalls the symbolic meaning of the Old Testament sacrifices: “Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins” (Heb. 9:22, RSV).

However, we are no longer under the curse of the law but are redeemed by the blood of Christ, the Son of God: “But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God” (Heb. 10:12, RSV). The power of the blood of Calvary’s Cross is available to every sinner, to every soul whose heart is a seething caldron of things displeasing to God: “And the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.… If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:7b, 9).

The desperately wicked heart can be completely cleansed by the atoning blood of Christ, and it can be kept clean by the living presence of his Spirit in the heart. What is needed is regeneration, not reformation.

There must be a housecleaning, and there must be a new tenant. That God has provided the means and the Person is the hope of every sinner. And that this is obtainable by a simple act of faith on our part is a marvelous provision of the Gospel message.

The seething caldron which is the human heart is the greatest killer of them all. It is the leprosy of sin, the cancer of lust, pride, and self; it is the heart disease of the soul.

But there is a cure. When the Holy Spirit takes possession, there is love, joy, peace, patience, self-control; and we are whole again.

Eutychus and His Kin: January 3, 1964

Weariness of the Flesh

You may recall that the professor in Ecclesiastes says, “Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.” Something pretty serious seems to have hit that old boy, what with one “vanity” and another. What he would have written in 1963 about much study being a weariness of the flesh I don’t know, but I could give him a little advice. The real “weariness of the flesh” in our day is that long list of “vanities” that keep us away from the study.

Do you remember some books by Charles A. Anderson-Scott? His name has dropped out of circulation for a while, but I think he was too great a scholar to be neglected. What I want to do here, however, is to review an unforgettable scene in his home when he had my wife and me for dinner. We were enjoying good table talk with his wife and daughters and him, when suddenly, as if on signal, the great man said, “This is enough. You will have to go home. I have to go to my study.” Contrary to normal expectations, no one was even slightly miffed at this departure, and I have envied his sang-froid ever since.

A friend of mine tells about the happy morning when he had a chance to get at a book that had been begging to be read for weeks. Sitting in his church study, he settled into the book with a happy sigh. Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door, and the janitor put his head in. “I saw you weren’t doing anything, Reverend, so I thought I would come and keep you company.”

My wife was all settled for an evening’s reading, under a lamp by the window. Pretty soon a neighbor dropped in. “I saw you were all alone and thought I would keep you company.”

Even Shakespeare ought to know better, but in Hamlet, where the stuffy Polonius is advising Ophelia how to catch Hamlet off guard, he says (Act III, scene 1): “Read on this book; that show of such an exercise may color your loneliness.” Faugh, Shakespeare! Why should reading be lonely?

There is indeed a weariness of the flesh; but in the existential situation I think Ecclesiastes has it backwards.

EUTYCHUS II

Forward from Sinai!

Your issue of November 22 was superb, but I must find fault with Bruce M. Metzger’s contention in “Four English Translations of the New Testament” that Phillips’s use of the Textus Receptus “rather than a critically established text, such as that of Nestle or Westcott and Hort” is “deliberate … obscurantism.”

While most Christian scholars slept, much of modern English Bible translation and revision for the past century has been based upon naturalistic textual criticism which leaned largely and entirely without good reason upon a few manuscripts that had little to recommend them except high old age. Tischendorf, Westcott, and Hort, along with the generality of textual critics of their day, were impressed with the idea that the older the manuscript the more nearly correct it must be. Tischendorf naturally favored Sinaiticus, his own adopted child. Westcott and Hort, as also Weiss, preferred Vaticanus. But these favorite manuscripts of the nineteenth-century critics suffer from grave demerits—interpolation, tampering, and, most conspicuously, careless omissions. In Vaticanus Dean J. W. Burgon (“The Last Twelve Verses of Mark”) counted words and clauses omitted in the Gospels alone to the number of 1,491. He remarks that in Sinaiticus “on many occasions 10, 20, 30, 40 words are dropped through very carelessness”.… That these two manuscripts are old is, in Burgon’s view, merely an indication that because of their serious shortcomings they were withdrawn from use and never had a chance to get worn out. Later manuscripts, as he justly observes, may well have a better pedigree.

There is today a reverence for Nestle’s and similar eclectic texts which amounts almost to superstition. Nestle founds his text, wherever possible, on the readings of the majority of three editors—Hort, Tischendorf, and Weiss—each of whom was partial to one or the other of the two much-touted Egyptian manuscripts—Sinaiticus and Vaticanus.…

Recent favorable mentions of Burgon’s work may lead one to hope that his prediction concerning the ultimate demotion of Sinaiticus and Vaticanus from their present exalted position may be fulfilled within the lifetime of some of us.…

E. P. SCHULZE

The Lutheran Church of Our Redeemer

Peekskill, N. Y.

The article … is brief, accurate, and I consider the best I have ever read. [It] carries no bias, and is highly instructive. Any reader who failed to read the article should find his copy and read it with care.

R. E. MOHLER

McPherson, Kan.

I am looking forward with interest and pleasure to the receipt of my copy of The New Testament in Four Versions, ordered with advance subscriptions a month ago. You are rendering the church, its ministers and laymen, a distinct service by making so conveniently available these four outstanding English translations of the New Testament.

I was greatly pleased by the companion piece …, Bruce M. Metzger’s splendid article.… This comparative evaluation by a recognized scholar is terse yet meaningful.…

I liked this issue …, especially also the editorial, “The Educating Power of the Bible.”

ARTHUR F. KATT

Commission on Worship, Liturgies and Hymnology

The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod Orlando, Fla.

Please accept my congratulations on the November 22 issue.

At first I thought Cailliet’s “The Book That Understands Me” was sufficient to make the issue outstanding, but after I read the other major articles, I was doubly sure that the editor should be congratulated on the issue.

C. T. RYAN

Kearney, Neb.

The President

The President has laid down his mantle, and the nation is summoned through deep waters of suffering.… We can but invoke the resources in the counsels of God. The posthumous entreaty in his last prepared text was, “Stand as watchmen on the walls of liberty!” … Two exhortations forcefully emerge. The one is a sharply discerning admonition to those who, by imperceptible measure, persistently contend to abolish any reference whatever to the Divine, from every facet of our United States democracy—this in distinct contrast to the means and source of mitigating our anguish of the present.… The other incites us to a sharing-participation in love—a “love stronger than death”!

DALE and JUDY BROWNELL

Pasadena, Calif.

I watched the whole funeral ceremony with sympathy. Any other time I would have questioned the propriety of some of its features; but not today. Humanity was here before the throne of God presenting its horror and grief, and a loving sympathetic God was listening.

What is its meaning? There is no doubt that in all parts of the world there is a growing conviction that we are on the verge of a great spiritual movement from heaven.

The degree to which the human race has been affected and drawn together these tragic days is too unique not to portend some singular and decisive event aimed at the well-being of the race.…

J. W. PHILP

Rabun Gap, Ga.

Open Letter

Dear Mrs. Shoemaker,

This week I received word that my dear friend and your husband passed on last week. I simply want to express my own thoughts to you in this letter.

I do not need to tell you what I think about him, for there are thousands of other young preachers who could say it better than I could ever say it. But I do need to express myself to someone who loved Sam Shoemaker and who can understand what I am trying to express.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German martyr who has become the young man’s theologian today, started a lot of things. He wrote wonderful books—and most of them were never finished. Having a deep appreciation for Bonhoeffer, because of what he has done for my life, I have often thought of him as a kind of “unfinished symphony.”

Dr. Sam Shoemaker, in his own right, has been to me and to thousands of young fellows an “Unfinished Symphony.” There are many things that I wish “Sam” could have told me, but time and miles have kept us apart physically. His letters have been refreshing streams into my life! His prayers have been felt. His books have penetrated to the life-level of my own experiences and needs. He has always been quick to say that he was not at all perfect, and that all of us shall be, in a sense, very real problems to ourselves as long as we live. He has made it easy for me to grow in the Holy Spirit’s guidance.

So, Mrs. Shoemaker, I want to thank you for sharing your husband with this nation of ours. I am sure that the influence of this man will live on through many, many years to come in the lives of those of us who have found Fresh Life in Christ Jesus through his ministry. I am interested in knowing if he ever finished his autobiography. If the book never gets written, I am sure it will be written in history, in the lives of fellows such as myself—for we shall not be the same since meeting “Sam.”

HAL EDWARDS

Minister of Education

First Methodist Church

Santa Ana, Calif.

• We understand that the autobiography will be published by Harper & Row in the near future.—ED.

Liturgics

Mr. Robb is right in implying that many are discontent with high liturgical services (“The Predicament of Methodism,” Oct. 25 issue). They simply want the so-called old songs dating back to the date of their arrival at Sunday school. They want to swing and sway with sentimental nostalgia. Some want to stay on an emotional binge all the time instead of facing up to the moral and ethical responsibilities of the Gospel. Mr. Robb needs only to visit some so-called liturgical churches to see many of the so-called common men’s faces light as they respond to the ancient collect and responses of the Church. I am sure that the average Methodist layman in the long run would prefer the litanies of the Church which Mr. Robb’s heroes have used (Paul, Luther, Wesley, and Clarke), than to hear a poor disorganized pastoral prayer.

WILLIAM E. ALBRIGHT, JR.

Humphreys Memorial Methodist Church

Charleston, W. Va.

Ed Robb has cast the problem of social and personal righteousness in the mold of an “either-or” problem. I do not believe that he wishes to do this. Mr. Wesley did not make this distinction. Historically, Methodism has not done this. We cannot regain any lost personal moralism at the expense of social righteousness.

I directly challenge his statement that “personal morality is overlooked or given scant attention.” I refer him to the materials of the Methodist Board of Christian Social Concerns. I refer him to the church school literature of The Methodist Church. I refer him to the pulpits of Methodism.…

HAROLD C. PERDUE

Coahoma Methodist

Coahoma, Tex.

Liturgical worship—genuine liturgical worship—is certainly not incompatible with good old-fashioned gospel preaching.…

Both liturgical and non-liturgical churches may be formal and lifeless. Formality is something apart from liturgy. It is liturgical worship, worshiping decently and in good order as the Apostle Paul suggests, and not what Mr. Robb may call “formal worship” which has kept the Word of God central and faithfully proclaimed.

JOHN NELSON ROBERTS

The Methodist Church

Mountainhome, Pa.

The “theological calamity” and “liturgical crisis” especially are a concern to many thoughtful and loyal Methodists. We need more of such courageous self-examination.

DONALD L. BURNETT

Gilbert Methodist Circuit

Gilbert, S. C.

Evangelicals and the Campus

The lack of social concern among evangelicals has dismayed many university students who sympathize with evangelical theology. Thanks to [Dr.] Anderson’s clear accusation and ringing challenge (“Evangelicals and the Race Revolution,” Oct. 25 issue), we again use the word evangelical with pride—pride because we have begun to confess our sins. While sincerely confessing our past sinful negligence, we must, like our Lord, concern ourselves with physical, social, and spiritual healing.

RONALD J. SIDER

New Haven, Conn.

Dr. Anderson, better than most, should recognize that you cannot legislate righteousness and that “mobocracy” can only lead to tyranny.

RICHARD A. GILMAN

San Diego, Calif.

Choice of Weapons Disputed

Re: “Analytic Philosophy and Christianity” (Oct. 25 issue): Mr. Plantinga tries to accomplish the impossible when he wishes to challenge the positivist (so-called) “on his own grounds and [defeat] him there.”

Such a “defeat” for the positivist would mean a victory as well, since the weapons which were so effectively employed, were chosen from the latter’s own arsenal. If a pacifist, for example, wished to conquer the world to coerce it into peace, he would be no more inconsistent than the Christian who is willing to adopt non-Christian principles to make his convictions more palatable.

Christian apologetics can only face the unbeliever with the claims of Christianity as the basis of sound philosophy. Faith without philosophical concern is irresponsible, but philosophy without faith in God is foolishness (1 Cor. 3:19).

CALVIN A. PATER

Philadelphia, Pa.

An excellent statement of what analytic philosophy is and how it can be of positive value to the Christian apologist. It is, I think, imperative that more Christian ministers become familiar with this very widespread philosophical movement. If we don’t, we shall fail in our task of communicating the Gospel in a clear and meaningful way.

DWIGHT C. STEWART

Culver-Stockton College

Canton, Mo.

The Christian’s Future

Your article, “Pacifism Today” by L. Nelson Bell (Oct. 11 issue) was provocative but misleading.…

Too many critics of evangelical pacifism evaluate its merits on the basis of a political gain or loss. But as Christians we need to evaluate it on the basis of a gain or loss to the Kingdom of God. And certainly the basis we use for evaluation betrays our eschatology. The Christian’s future is not in the triumph of one country over another. His future is in the triumph of God’s Kingdom over the Kingdom of Satan.

CALVIN R. KING

Goshen, Ind.

As To Roots – On a Limb?

[Re] Professor Hall’s review of The New Community in Christ in the October 11 issue (I am one of the contributors to that book): … as [to his] comment that modern Lutheranism is rapidly drifting away from conservative evangelicalism to confessionalism—I take this to mean that Lutherans today are more deeply conscious of and appreciative of their origins in the Reformation than they used to be. I agree and I am glad. Professor Hall should know more about the theology of the Reformation before he climbs out on this kind of limb.

KENT S. KNUTSON

St. Paul, Minn.

I am prompted to write you …, specifically, because I am charged with denying the second coming of Christ. As this charge is made, the page number is given (p. 31), and this display of accuracy supposedly clinches the case. Naturally I turned to page 31 to read about my denial of the second coming of Christ, but I found nothing on that page to substantiate the charge. This was a relief to me since I have always been aware that Christ’s return is decidedly a part of New Testament teaching. If I may cite something from page 33, there is the following sentence: “For example, Paul writes that ‘our commonwealth (Greek: πολιτευμα) is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ’ (Phil. 3:20).

… Instead of entering into a discussion of salient points dealing with the thesis being advanced, your writer gives vent to his irritation by leveling broadsides, e.g., “The nine essays are of unequal value, but their general tone denies the heart of biblical faith and traditional Christianity.” Or in attacking my essay he either does not understand or will not admit that I was trying precisely to recover “the balance between the individual and the community,” which is not the same thing as attempting “to argue that the church is more important than the individual.”

JOSEPH M. SHAW

Assoc. Prof. of Religion

St. Olaf College

Northfield, Minn.

Hold the Flowers

Your reference to Chicago’s Moody Memorial Church (Sept. 27 issue) must not go by without comment. Though it is an inner-city church it does not fit the usual pattern of such churches. While it has been in an area of decay for some thirty years—a period coincidently considered its greatest period—that area has now become one of renewal and residential boom. The church’s problem is not now how to minister in the typical inner-city pattern, but how to adjust to the new situation.

It is true that many elements of your analysis would seem to apply: members have gone to the suburbs, the area has known extremely high incidence of residential transiency, the concentration has seemed to be on pulpit ministry rather than virile local membership. But even this general analysis of the inner-city church type does not fit Moody Church. The members who have gone to suburban churches already lived in the suburbs, for the church has always been a city church. Our attendance is down; but our giving is higher per capita now than it ever was before, our total budget is higher ($400,000 the past two years), and we have more foreign and home missionaries than we did previously.

This is not to say that we do not have problems, the greatest perhaps being how to reach the middle and upper-middle class now nearly surrounding us. But by no means have we received or accepted any short-term survival notice. Don’t send flowers yet; many of us feel that greatness still lies ahead.

DONALD R. STEELBERG

Chicago, Ill.

Two for the Price of One

John Vanden Berg’s review of Religion, the Courts, and Public Policy, by Robert F. Drinan, S. J. (Oct. 11 issue), was interesting in two respects. Not only was it an excellent review—it could have also passed as a review of Catholic Viewpoint on Education, by Neil G. McCluskey, S. J. Both of these books, written by prominent American Catholics, cover essentially the same topics. Both cite court cases involving parochial schools, emphasize the Protestant influence on public schools, and point out the discrimination which exists in the case of Catholic parents who must support two school systems. (Neither mentions the discrimination against property owners who have no children yet must support schools which they do not use.) …

Conservative population estimates indicate that, due to the proportionately high birthrate among Catholics, over a half of all school-age Americans will be Catholic by the mid-1980s. With equal [government] aid, then, half of the American schools will be Catholic, while less than a third of the taxpayers will be Catholics. About a quarter of the schools will be non-Catholic, parochial schools. The other quarter will be “public” schools. All of this could occur in less than one generation from now!…

Protestant churches cannot pass laws against public school attendance and birth control with religious sanctions … as the Catholic Church has done already. Equal aid does indeed respect “the establishment of religion,” since the ecclesiastical church stands to gain a great deal at the expense of non-ecclesiastical taxpayers and the education of their children.

Real, valid, and logical arguments exist which oppose equal aid to parochial schools. It would be refreshing to read a book giving a viewpoint which is unlike that of McCluskey and Drinan, but such a book does not exist. As long as lawmakers hear only one side of a debate presented in a logical fashion, we must accept the fact that equal aid will be approached with ever increasing speed. Evangelical Christians may soon awake to find themselves in the midst of a purely religious educational system which is dominated by an ecclesiastical hierarchy determined to strip the world of all heretical elements.

WILLIAM L. BROWN

Ypsilanti, Mich.

I am pleased to think your magazine will keep alive the discussion on Christian day schools until the idea takes root and grows into a flourishing tree.

It is my conviction that Caesar has no Bible (or natural) ground for exercising control over education of our children.

G. A. WOODS

Beaumont, Tex.

Theology

C. S. Lewis: Everyman’s Theologian

A look back and the life and work of Lewis.

The death of Clive Staples Lewis on November 22 removed from the world one of its most lucid, winsome, and powerful writers on Christianity. We have reason to thank God that such a man was raised up in our time to become, as Chad Walsh has put it, the apostle to the skeptics. “His books exposed the shallowness of our atheist prejudices; his vision illumined the Mystery which lay behind the appearances of daily life,” said one man who turned to Christ from Communism, alcoholism, and attempted suicide. “Without his works, I wonder if I and many others might not still be infants ‘crying in the night,’ ” said another intellectual who had turned from atheism and Communism to Christianity.

Sixty-four when he died, Lewis had been converted at the age of thirty after a long span of atheism. He thereafter produced more than a score of books, both expository and fictional, to set forth his conception of the meaning of Christianity. Millions of copies have been read and widely acclaimed by both theologians and laymen all over the Western world. Nearly all of his books are now available in paperback, a good sign of their wide acceptance.

His best-known book is The Screwtape Letters, a brilliant story in which an undersecretary to the High Command of Hell writes letters of instruction and warning to his nephew Wormwood, a junior tempter in charge of a young man in England at the time of World War II. Wormwood is in trouble from the beginning because he has failed to prevent his “patient” from becoming a Christian. Screwtape suggests many devices for reclaiming the patient’s soul. He must prepare for the time when the first emotional excitement of conversion begins to fade. He must turn the patient’s thoughts while in prayer, from God to his own moods and feelings. When the patient prays for charity, Wormwood must cause him to start trying to manufacture charitable feelings in himself. He must also stir up irritations between the patient and his mother. He must persuade, the young man to think of devils as comic creatures in red tights and tails. He must cause the patient to believe that his “dry” periods are signs that God is unreal. The young man must be introduced to smart, superficially intellectual and skeptical people who will teach him to despise “Puritanism” and love religious flippancy, and he must be persuaded to shoulder the future with all its cloud of indefinite fears rather than live in a simple, immediate dependence on God. He must be made spiritually resentful and proud. If possible, he must be brought to love theological newness for its own sake and to think of the “historical Jesus” rather than the Jesus of the Gospels. The patient’s prayer life must be rationalized so that if the thing he prays for does not come to pass, he will see it as proof that petitionary prayers simply do not work, or if it does come to pass, as nothing more than the operation of natural causes.

In this book both human and divine conduct are seen from the viewpoint of hell. One of the best things is the devil’s-eye conception of God, who is observed as having none of the high dignity and austerity of hell but rather as “irredeemably vulgar” and bourgeois-minded, a hedonist who invented pleasure and filled the world full of happy things like eating, sleeping, bathing, playing, and working. Hell hates God’s undignified stooping to communication and fellowship with a man on his knees. Hell’s Intelligence Department, though it has worked hard to do so, has never been able to discover one great fact about God—that is, his disinterested love for verminous man and his wish to make every man more individual, more himself in the right sense, rather than, as is the custom in hell, simply to absorb him. Whereas in hell there is nothing but competition and terrorism, the swallowing up of all whom by shrewdness and power one is able to overcome, God loves distinctiveness. Hell’s unity is dominated by a constant lust to devour; but God aims at the paradox of infinite differences among all creatures, a world of selves in which the good of any one self is not competitive but is rather the good of all other selves, like that of a loving family. God loves “otherness”; hell hates it. Hell hates God’s complex and dangerous world pervaded with choices, a world that God has inseminated with all sorts of realities that carry their hidden winsome reminders of himself, such as beauty, silence, reverence, and music. Concerning the last, hell hopes one day to make the universe one unending Noise.

Lewis’s book called Mere Christianity is a direct treatment of many of the ideas that have been deliberately turned upside down in The Screwtape Letters. He begins this book with two facts that he calls “the foundation of all clear thinking.” One is that people everywhere have the curious idea that they ought to behave in a certain way; the other is that they do not in fact so behave. The notion of right and wrong, he says, is not local and cultural but is lodged deeply in the moral wisdom of mankind. There is a big difference between the Law of Nature and the Law of Human Nature. The former includes such laws as that of gravity and tells you, for instance, what a stone actually does if you drop it. But the Law of Human Nature tells you what people ought to do and fail in doing.

A Complex Faith

Atheism, says Lewis, is too simple. Christianity is complicated and “odd,” yet with the density of reality itself, not something you would easily have guessed. Take the matter of free will. Why did God give men free will, if he knew they would misuse it? Because although free will makes evil possible, it is the only thing that makes joy and love and goodness possible. Without free will men are toys on a string. With free will they have vast possibilities for good as well as evil. If men choose evil, God’s law will withhold from them the happiness they thirst for. This, he says, is the key to all history.

Later on in Mere Christianity Lewis declares that Christ was the first “real man” and that he made it possible for us to be real if we only will. To gain this reality, the Christian must each day shove back his own wishes and hopes and let God’s “larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in.” It is not God’s purpose, says Lewis, to bring people barely within the gates of heaven; he intends their absolute perfection, and here and hereafter will direct toward that end. “When He said, ‘Be perfect,’ He meant it. He meant that we must go in for the full treatment.… It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.”

Miracles And Nature’s Law

Lewis has written books on miracles, on pain, on love, and on the dangers of an unlimited trust in science. In Miracles Lewis discusses, among many other things, his belief that most people today are afflicted with “chronological snobbery,” that is, the idea that people in an older time could accept miracles because of their ignorance of the laws of nature. Joseph, Lewis points out, was fully as wise as any modern gynecologist on the main point of Mary’s situation—that a virgin birth is contrary to nature. In finally accepting the situation as a miracle, Joseph was affirming not only the miracle but, equally, the law of nature itself as it applies to childbirth. Joseph is by no means an example of a naïve or primitive ignoramus; rather, he was a realist whose head was as hard as anybody’s as far as the regularity of nature is concerned. He saw the exception in Mary’s case only because he had a pristine conviction about the rule.

In The Problem of Pain Lewis begins with his once sufficient reasons for being an atheist—a vast and mostly lifeless cosmos with a nature “red in tooth and claw,” and the like. But one significant question, he adds, never arose in his mind: “If the universe is so bad, or even half so bad, how on earth did human beings ever come to attribute to it the activity of a wise and good Creator?” If we had never supposed God to be good, there would of course never have arisen any problem of pain. The problem is conditional. “If God were good, He would wish to make His creatures perfectly happy, and if God were almighty He would be able to do what He wished. But the creatures are not happy. Therefore God lacks either goodness, or power, or both.” Thus Lewis puts the case before beginning to answer it.

Among Lewis’s most popular books are the space trilogy Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength. The first involves a visit to the un-fallen world of Malacandra (Mars). In the second a demon-possessed man from earth does his best to bring about the fall of Perelandra (Venus). In the third a group of scientific-minded but evil men almost bring England to a Satanic reign. Also popular with both children and adults are Lewis’s seven Narnia stories, which recount the adventures of youngsters who escape into another and wonderful world and are protected by Aslan the great Lion (Christ). One critic has said that these books marked “the greatest addition to the imperishable deposit of children’s literature since the Jungle Books.”

Doctrinally, Lewis accepted the Nicene, Athanasian, and Apostles’ Creeds. He was never-failing in his opposition to theological “modernism.” Some of his most acerose satire is employed against it in both his fictional and his expository works. It is as ridiculous, he declared, to believe that the earth is flat as to believe in the watered-down popular theology of modern England. In The Screwtape Letters a major employment of hell itself is to encourage theologians to create a new historical Jesus in each generation. He repeatedly insists that, contrary to many modern theologians, it was less St. Paul than Christ who taught the terrors of hell and other “fierce” doctrines rather than sweetness and vapid love. Lewis hated the depiction of Christ in feminine modes. In the Narnian stories Aslan is always pictured as more than a tame lion. Lewis believed that God is not to be bargained with but to be obeyed. Christ is Deity himself, the Creator, coexistent with the Father, yet also his only-begotten Son, the Penalty of the Law, Prince of the universe, the “Eternal Fact, Father of all facthood,” the Everlasting and Supreme Reality, perfect God and perfect Man, the best of all moral teachers but not merely that.

Man’s Special Demerit

Though Lewis denies the doctrine of total depravity (one wonders whether he understood its full theological implications) on the grounds that man has the idea of good and that if he were totally depraved he should not know it, this denial does not preclude Lewis from representing man everywhere as a horror to God and a miserable offender. Some people, he says, suppose that the Incarnation implies a special merit in humanity; actually it implies “just the reverse: a particular demerit and depravity” because “no creature that deserved Redemption would need to be redeemed.… Christ died for men precisely because men are not worth dying for.”

The most vivid picture of what it means to be saved—and Lewis does not hesitate to use this word—is the transformation of Eustace from a dragon back into a person in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Eustace tells how he remembered that a dragon might be able to cast its skin like a snake and began to work on himself. At first the scales alone came off; but as he went deeper, he found his whole skin starting to peel off and finally was able to step right out of it altogether. Eustace then started to wash himself, but when he put his foot into a nearby pool of water he saw that it was as hard and rough and scaly as it had been before. So he began again to scratch and finally peeled off another entire dragon skin. But once again he found under it another. At this point Aslan appeared and said, “You will have to let me undress you.” Though Eustace was deathly afraid of Aslan’s claws, he lay down before him. His fears were justified, for the very first tear made by Aslan was so deep he felt it had gone clear down to his heart. When the skin was at last off, Eustace discovered it was “ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly looking than the others had been.” Afterwards Aslan bathed him and dressed him in new clothes, the symbolism of which is clear enough.

Lewis assures his readers that he believes the Bible to carry the authority of God, and he insists that we must “go back to our Bibles,” even to the very words. The biblical account, says he, often turns out to be more accurate than our lengthy theological interpretations of it. It is all right to leave the words of the Bible for a moment to make some point clear, but you must always return. “Naturally God knows how to describe Himself much better than we know how to describe Him.” Lewis believed that some great catastrophe was ahead for man and that the Second Coming may be the next great event in history.

Some Principal Themes

Certain themes run all through Lewis’s books, whether expository or fictional. One is that every living being is destined for everlasting life and that every moment of life is a preparation for that condition. Like Albert Camus, Lewis believed death to be the most significant fact in the interpretation of life; yet, unlike Camus, he was convinced that man is primarily made for eternity. With Socrates, he held that true wisdom is the “practice of death.” Another theme in Lewis is that God is the creator, transformer, and ultimate possessor of common things; that God is the inventor of matter, of sex, of eating and drinking, and of pleasures. Lewis also teaches all through his books that the only way Christians can attain full happiness is to obey God implicitly. “It is only our daily bread that we are encouraged to ask for. The present is the only time in which any duty can be done or any grace received.”

But perhaps the most persistent theme in Lewis is that of man’s longing for Joy. He calls this longing “the inconsolable secret” that inhabits the soul of every man, a desire that no natural happiness can ever satisfy. It is lifelong pointer toward heaven, a nostalgia to cross empty spaces and be joined to the true reality from which we now feel cut off. The culmination of this longing in the rhapsodic joy of heaven is, for me at least, the strongest single element in Lewis. In one way or another it hovers over nearly every one of his books and suggests that Lewis’s apocalyptic vision is perhaps more real than that of anyone since St. John on Patmos.

Until a short time before his death Lewis was the distinguished occupant of the chair of medieval and Renaissance English at Cambridge University. He was one of the best literary critics of our time and an expert in philology. Notable among his scholarly writings is The Allegory of Love, which has been called “the best book of literary history written by an Englishman in this century.” At the same time he was a Christian of no uncertain stamp. He managed the difficult feat of successfully integrating his scholarship and his religion. If we add to these things the gifts of a lively imagination, a vigorous and witty mind, and a brilliance of language, we can discover why his books have sold widely and why his readers are steadily on the increase.

Clyde S. Kilby is chairman of the Department of English at Wheaton College, where he has served since 1935. He holds the A.B. from the University of Arkansas, the M.A. from the University of Minnesota, and the Ph.D. from New York University. His latest book, The Christian World of C. S. Lewis, will appear in March.

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