From the Macdonald Files

From My Journal:

A friend sent me Salvation in the Slums by Norris Magnuson. It’s Magnuson’s doctoral thesis, published in 1977 and reprinted by Baker in 1990. What a tremendous overview of evangelical social ministry from 1865 to 1920.

I’ve harbored a sense of embarrassment over the seeming evangelical naivety regarding how the biblical gospel intersects with the real world of need and struggle. Magnuson does a masterful job of pointing out that this hasn’t always been so. There was a time when the foremost expression of one’s faith was his or her unrestrained compassion for the disadvantaged: the economically deprived, the immigrant, the orphan, the famine-plagued, the oppressed, etc. Our heritage of ministry is deep and powerful. Not only did earlier generations of evangelicals spring to the needs of the poor, they were in the forefront of powerful innovative thinking that sparked legislation, social planning, and organized efforts to change the environmental conditions that so often lead to poverty.

One chapter that really impressed me: the evangelical view of war. Evangelicals were much more known for peace-making then than they are now. They readily counseled the American government to seek arbitration and negotiation before drawing the swords. And many of them made it quite clear that human rights came before national interest. I like those guys.

What Magnuson doesn’t ask—and it wasn’t his problem in this book—is what in the world happened to our movement after 1920, when the gospel turned toward a self-absorption and made social concern much more a personal option?

Magnuson quotes A.B. Simpson in 1899: “The law of Christ is the bearing of others’ burdens, the sharing of others’ griefs, sacrificing yourself for another . …This (is) the law of Christianity … (and) of the saint. It is the only way to be saved. From the beginning it has always been so . …A good way to test your love to God is by the way you treat your brother … God is more concerned by my conduct toward my brother than by my prayers to him.”

I find it interesting that Simpson, a leading evangelical, was saying those kinds of things in 1899—and getting a hearing. Would he be hounded out of some circles of fellowship today if he said those same things? Just wondering.

Salvation in the Slums isn’t easy reading. (Is any doctoral thesis?) But it’s necessary reading for anyone who thinks, as I do, that we need a fresh understanding of the gospel and its implications in the 21st century.

Things Heavy on My Heart:

13 million African people are projected to die through famine-related diseases in the next 12-15 months. There’s virtually no food in the pipeline from Western nations as of now. What must Christ-followers say to this?

Out of My Sabbath Musings:

I’m beginning to wonder if Isaiah 58 ought not to be elevated to the status of one of the five most important chapters in the Bible. I’ve read it several times this month with fresh eyes. What rebukes it contains! What challenges! What promises! Wonder if I could memorize the entire chapter.

A Book That Has Touched Me Greatly This Month:

An Arrow Pointing to Heaven by James Bryan Smith (Broadman & Holman). Smith calls it a “devotional biography” of Christian music artist Rich Mullins who died tragically three years ago. I found the book a blessed trip into the heart of a contemporary singer and composer who did more thinking about his faith and its implications than most people I’ve known. The man doesn’t speak or think in classical theological categories, but he’s preoccupied with the nature of biblical love. No shallowness here. I loved Mullins’s comment: “There’s nothing you can do to make God love you more, and there’s nothing you can do to make God love you less.”

Something I’ve Learned Afresh This Past Month:

While I was in Germany, I found the more candid I become about the fact that I’ve been a dirtball sinner, the more audiences seem to be willing to listen. They’re not interested in my successes (which makes for a pretty short list anyway). But they grow intensely silent when I use plain-spoken words to describe my brokenness and the power of God’s kindly mercy in my life. What’s the message here?

One of My Favorite Quotes From Sir William Osler:

There are two great types of leaders: one, the great reformer, the dreamer of dreams with aspirations completely in the van (forefront) of his generation, lives often in wrath and disputations, passes through fiery ordeals, is misunderstood, and too often despised and rejected by his generation. The other, a very different type, is the leader who sees ahead of his generation, but who has the sense to walk and work in it. While not such a potent element in progress, he lives a happier life, and is more likely to see the fulfillment of his plans. (My thought: the latter of these two leaders makes a much better pastor.)