NEWS

Concordia Theological Seminary in St. Louis came under official indictment this month for being at doctrinal odds with its parent denomination. Dr. Jacob A. O. Preus, president of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, in a historic 160-page report, says flatly that “some professors at the Seminary hold views contrary to the established doctrinal position of the Synod.” The issues, he declares, “call for decisive action on the part of the Synod and its officers.”

The findings and recommendations, if upheld by the synod’s convention next summer, could lead to the ouster of seminary officials and faculty members.

In the interim, Preus calls on the Concordia Board of Control “to deal personally and first of all with President John Tietjen (a) as to his own confessional stance and (b) as to his failure to exercise the supervision of the doctrine of the faculty as prescribed in the synodical Handbook.” Preus also asks the board to issue an immediate directive to the faculty aimed at restoring a higher view of Scripture.

“It is apparent,” Preus said, “that a considerable number of the faculty hold a view of the Holy Scriptures that in effect erodes the authority of the canonical text. While the principal doctrines of the Christ and faith in most instances still appear to be upheld, the stage has been set for an erosion of the very fundamentals.”

The president’s report, which has been circulated throughout the 2.8-million-member denomination, traces unresolved doctrinal difficulties as far back as 1950, and identifies “the major question” as having to do with “the nature and role of the Holy Scriptures as a source of teaching in the church.”

Concordia is the largest Lutheran seminary in the world and the third largest Protestant seminary in the United States. It was founded in 1839 and now has some 800 students and fifty faculty members. With some significant exceptions, most Concordia professors and board members have opposed the three-year-long attempt of Preus to get an authoritative determination whether the traditionally conservative seminary has capitulated to theological liberalism.

The long-awaited Preus report was released early this month with special precautions taken to keep it from newsmen before Missouri Synod clergy were able to get it in the mail.

The report is a model attempt to document a doctrinal shift. It relies primarily upon lengthy tape-recorded interviews with faculty members conducted by a Preus-appointed five-member Fact Finding Committee. Substantial portions of the transcripts are reproduced (though the professors are not identified by name). A commentary by Preus is closely reasoned and dispassionate with no hint of polemic. Preus, who has been accused repeatedly of trying to conduct a “witch hunt” or “heresy trial,” includes a letter from the Fact Finding Committee which states that “at no point in any interview did any man being interviewed object that a question addressed to him was unethical in that it asked him to inform on or criticize an absent colleague.”

The Preus report was prepared to comply with a directive from the 1971 convention of the synod held in Milwaukee. The convention had called for a report to Preus and the Board for Higher Education by the Concordia Board of Control, and the synodical president was in turn instructed to report to the synod. These actions were aimed at learning what the seminary was doing to correct the situation unearthed by the Fact Finding Committee.

The Preus report quotes the full text of a “progress report” from the Board of Control. The board’s report, adopted in mid-June, said “to this date has found no false doctrine among the members of the seminary faculty.”

Two Board of Control members wrote a minority report in which they said they were “dismayed and frustrated” that “the substance of the FFC report has not been discussed in Board meetings.” A third member wrote a letter commenting on the minority report, “most of which is consistent with my own concerns and evaluations.”

Preus stated that he wants “a completed report” from the Board of Control by February 1 so that he can prepare a final report to the 1973 convention.

“The convention will then decide,” he said, “whether the action of the Seminary Board of Control is satisfactory or, if not, prescribe whatever action the convention determines proper and appropriate.” He added that “never before in the history of modern Christendom has a church body, its congregations, its lay members, its teachers, and its pastors had an opportunity for such a frank, forthright, and open discussion as to what its doctrinal stance will be.”

The dispute is being watched by many from other denominations because it represents something of a “test case” in which theological conservatives are making an unusually thorough and intensive effort to stop the dilution of key doctrines. The election of Preus to the presidency in 1969 was a surprise—he made no effort to seek the post—and he is obviously much more concerned with the outcome of the theological battle than with his own future. But the struggle has many facets, not the least of which is the imposition on Concordia of a two-year probation by the American Association of Theological Schools as a result of the current dispute. Preus was disappointed that the school did not even bother to appeal this threat to its continued accreditation.

He nonetheless remains optimistic and closes his report with a devotional “Epilog” in which he appeals to his church “to gird up our loins” and “to proclaim the Lord Jesus Christ by our words and by our deeds that through our church God’s name may be hallowed, His will may be done, and His kingdom come for the benefit of the whole Christian church and for the world itself.”

Key Celebration Of The Word Of God

Roman Catholics, burned by dropping attendance and plummeting conversions, have turned to the Bible for help. At Washington, D.C.’s Byzantine-like Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, laymen, priests, bishops, and archbishops gathered for a conference on preaching the Word of God. They want a renewal in Catholic preaching.

Organizer John Burke, a Dominican priest, called the first-ever three-day meeting a “celebration” of the power of the Word of God and pleaded for increased Bible study and Bible-centered preaching in Catholic churches. The 800 delegates met for major addresses by leading Catholic scholars and also split into eight concurrent conferences, tackling such subjects as preaching and the Bible, conversion, the priestly ministry, and ecumenism.

Key 73 director Dr. Theodore Raedeke presented to a largely interested and sympathetic audience the group’s plan for nation-wide evangelism. Burke later said he approved of Catholic involvement in Key 73 and told a press conference that the church needed more evangelism. Conference delegates urged Catholic cooperation with Key 73.

Bible-centered preaching is the key to bringing Catholics back to the church, Burke said. He cited a church that began Bible study sessions because many Catholic dropouts were attending a local Lutheran Bible study. But Burke admitted the church doesn’t have trained personnel to lead such studies. The priest in charge of the study already has changed his Sunday sermon to basic biblical messages, Burke added.

Burke also complained that the church hadn’t emphasized evangelism (“We presupposed faith—if people came to church, they believed”), hadn’t produced a Billy Graham, and hadn’t gone in for crusades. A priest, who testified before 100 of his colleagues that he was converted at the recent Billy Graham Cleveland crusade, urged them to attend Graham’s crusades and his evangelism schools to learn all they could about presenting Christ to others. Despite the emphasis on the Bible, however, much time was spent defending the conference as a much needed outcome of Vatican II. Burke denied that this conference was a reaction to the extreme liberalism it sparked. The 1962 conference led the church from liturgy to preaching, said Burke, and the Washington congress was simply trying to translate that into a preaching renewal.

Catholic seminaries and theological schools were roasted for their failure to produce “believers” who could preach. Rather than telling prospective priests how to preach, said Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen, they should emphasize “the art of being a preacher” and the ministry performed by a preacher. Sheen, one of the principal speakers, criticized priests for their lack of personal preparation for preaching and told them “we [the church] are not giving the people Christ. We have failed.” The Reverend Joseph Connors, founder of the Catholic Homiletic Society, said priests had been “poorly prepared” for preaching by the seminaries. Homiletics, he said, was too often an elective and taught by untrained men. Some schools are dropping homiletic training. (Catholic University of America, where part of the congress was held, has no preaching course at its theology school. The only such course is given by the speech and drama department, where until recently Burke was an associate professor.) Adequate academic as well as spiritual preparation is the most fundamental need in preaching renewal in the church, Connors added.

For many Catholics at the conference, the Bible emphasis was an eye-opener. Campus Crusade for Christ and its “four spiritual laws” approach was commended for its work. Burke waxed enthusiastic about the Bible for ten minutes at a press conference, but seemed slightly rocked when a reporter told him he sounded more Protestant than Catholic. Priests were urged to daily study the Bible and pray.

Sounding at times like a fundamentalist session, the meeting seemed incongruous with its site. While priests met upstairs, a store in the shrine basement was selling plastic bottles of holy water and a stick-on “Madonna of the kitchen.” Despite the plea to get back to the Bible, confessions to the priest are still in, as are prayer to the saints and Marian emphasis. Delegates urged cooperation with Key 73 and told one another Bible emphasis was one ground where Catholics and Protestants could fellowship.

The congress was Burke’s idea, he said, born of a conviction that Catholics were tired of political and social harangues from the pulpit and wanted more Bible preaching. Convinced of the need, he quit his university teaching post to become executive director of the newly-formed Word of God Institute operating from an office at the university. The institute will promote better preaching with workshops and seminars around the country. Burke hopes that similar regional or diocesan congresses will be held in the future, though there are no plans at present to make the national congress an annual affair. Delegates attended the sessions from all dioceses in the fifty states as well as from Canada.

BARRIE DOYLE

The church building boom that hit its peak in North America after World War II is waning. In its place has come a contrasting trend, one of skepticism over the value—even the validity—of brick and mortar in congregational life. Gibson Winter in The Suburban Captivity of the Churches was among the first to complain of an “edifice complex.” He said it “expresses interest in status rather than worship.” Many a churchman has since picked up this line of criticism, and in some communions and localities a congregation now feels almost embarrassed to suggest it needs to build.

The anti-building mood probably got its start from the new priority given to social activism by religious liberals. They urged that money be diverted from building funds to efforts to bring about needed social change. The mood reached its zenith in 1967 with the halting of work on the Episcopal Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City. The Right Reverend Horace W. B. Donegan said the building, about two-thirds complete, would stand unfinished as a symbol of the agony of the cities until human needs are met.

The charismatic and Jesus movements with their penchant for extra-church Bible studies and fellowships have contributed to the turn away from reliance on well-equipped facilities for worship and education.

To some extent, the anti-building temperament among North American churchmen has been healthful. Some churches have been extravagantly overbuilt. Some are monuments to congregational pride or to competition with other churches. In some denominations, if a pastor’s tenure at a church was not marked by the start of a building project it was considered less than successful.

Yet Christians must beware lest they get carried away with unbiblical notions. We must resist, for example, Archie Hargraves’s assertion (quoted approvingly by Harvey Cox) that the work of God in the world can be compared to a “floating crap game.” By consistently identifying churches with names of places, the New Testament makes it clear that bodies of believers have geographical roots and should operate from specific bases. The Church is not simply a human institution, but it is at least that, and it needs an identifiable headquarters. It is a corporate assembly of believers who come together for worship, education, fellowship, service, mutual encouragement, inspiration, and, at times, rebuke.

It’s easy to lose sight of this biblical perspective in the drift toward free-wheeling ministries. The church in one sense is Christians in a huddle near the line of action; but in another it is, to change the figure, a control panel where strategy is coordinated.

But can’t the church simply operate out of homes? Isn’t that what the early church did? Comparisons must be made carefully, because neither homes nor separate church buildings are specifically prescribed in Scripture as places for Christian assembly. Small groups meeting in homes offer a commendable form of fellowship and outreach. But in most situations homes cannot adequately carry out the functions of churches. Members of Trinity Baptist Church in Lexington, Kentucky, learned this when a fire destroyed their building and they had to meet in a variety of places for more than two years. “All this taught us that churches do need buildings that are designed to be used for church purposes,” said pastor Bob W. Brown.

Meeting in homes easily if unintentionally reinforces social exclusiveness, and a true church for its own good should have a cultural and age mix. Too many people look for churches that suit them, that is, that underscore their own outlooks instead of subjecting themselves to the perhaps beneficial scrutiny of contrasting viewpoints. In a church building, where property ownership is held in common and services are open to all comers, there is strong likelihood of a broader mix of people.

Compared to the North American standard of living and the vast outlays for luxuries in our homes, the cost of new church construction is usually within reasonable limits. It has never averaged out to more than $10 per year per church member in the United States. Many of us spend more than that on charcoal for cook-outs.

The charge of “extravagance” reminds one of the complaint of Judas Iscariot when Mary of Bethany poured costly ointment on Jesus. The Lord justified the act. “She has done a beautiful thing to me,” he said, adding, “Truly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.”

In Old Testament times God commissioned temples that were beautiful and memorable, and the principle of general revelation makes provision for divine communication aesthetically through such a medium. It can be so today, too. Certainly the many great Orthodox cathedrals in Communist countries show that great architecture can be spiritually significant; in those lands, conditioned against any form of religion, the cathedrals speak eloquently. Grandeur is not in of itself evil. Indeed, it can be a part of the worship of God. Even “status” need not be a spiritual liability. Certainly there is no merit in cheapness and shoddiness per se.

Church buildings: who needs them? Christians need them to carry out the Great Commission!

Missouri: Peace In Our Time?

Two years in preparation, the Report of synodical president Dr. Jacob A. O. Preus to the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod (see News, page 38) is remarkable not only for its comprehensiveness and clarity but also for the author’s evident determination to “speak the truth in love.” Preus set himself to the task of getting at the facts in a situation badly clouded by emotional and sensationalistic charges from several sides.

A substantial amount of hostile advance publicity in both religious and secular media pictured Preus as a witchhunter and stamped his Report, sight unseen, as an unreliable diatribe. At this point in history, the secular mind is indifferent—if not actually contemptuous of—questions of ultimate truth. Therefore the attempts to discredit Preus’s motives, his fairness, and his accuracy are likely to continue, even though reading the Report is enough to refute them. But the important matter is not whether Preus is accurate or fair, nor even whether he is prudent in determining to pursue this issue to a conclusion despite all the criticism he has aroused. Until the amply documented Report came out, it might have been possible to discount allegations of “liberalism” at Concordia Theological Seminary (St. Louis) as witch-hunting. Now the issue is clearly joined.

Neither Preus nor anyone else would deny that the teaching at Concordia is generally more conservative than at most Protestant seminaries. But the biggest question is not where Concordia stands on the theological spectrum but where it stands on the inspiration and authority of Scripture and the objective truth of basic biblical doctrines. The Report, a watershed document, makes it clear that while all the faculty accept the authority of Scripture in theory, several of them claim for “theology” the right to hold different opinions about what Scripture actually teaches on several central issues, including not only the Virgin Birth but also the Resurrection. No one at Concordia seems to be denying that Jesus’ tomb was empty, but several defend the right of theologians to claim that the Bible does not teach that it was. They hold that this difference of opinion falls within the area of “freedom of inquiry in theology”; President Preus thinks that it undercuts biblical truth and confessional loyalty.

Preus will be charged with threatening academic freedom—but to make this charge is to allow the philosophers to sit in judgment on the prophets. He will also be charged with disrupting the peace of the church. But what is the meaning of peace if it can be preserved only by refusing to face issues? The conflict would not have arisen had no attempt been made to legitimate theological pluralism in the Missouri Synod. Before Preus’s Report, it may have been possible to minimize the problem. Now the only way to avoid it is deliberately to ignore it, i.e., in effect to allow a situation in which we say that while we believe the Bible, we are not very sure what it teaches.

The conflict shaping up for 1973 will be rugged, but if the Missouri Synod tries to sidestep it by uttering evangelical platitudes and ignoring Preus’s facts, it may well mean the end of Missouri as a confessing church—and another addition to the long list of denominations whose chief agreement consists in not knowing what to believe.

Southern Presbyterians Regroup

A new Presbyterian church is in the making. Or, depending on your perspective, maybe it is the old one taking a crucial step necessary to retain its identity. At any rate, a group of Southern Presbyterian churchmen have formed a new body that they call the Vanguard Presbytery, Incorporated, a “provisional presbytery for Southern Presbyterian and Reformed Churches in America Uniting.” We will report on the move in our next issue.

We regret that more Southern Presbyterians have not conscientiously sought to arrest that denomination’s leftward theological drift. Now they are witnessing such a marked departure from their orthodox heritage that some churchmen feel they can no longer remain part of the ecclesiastical fellowship.

The Miracle Of Love

Credit Miss America 1973 with giving the world a well-expressed insight into love. It is like the loaves and the fishes, said Terry Anne Meeuwsen of Wisconsin: it multiplies when you begin to share it. She made the comparison in a brief network television interview just after being crowned in Atlantic City this month. Miss Meeuwsen is a Roman Catholic who studied music at St. Norbert College.

Funds And Favors

The incident of the Republican campaign contributions that ended up in the bank accounts of men caught flat-footed inside Democratic headquarters in Washington points out the wisdom of full-disclosure laws. Of course the Democrats will make all the political gain they can so long as the Republicans refuse to issue full account of their getting and spending. Similarly, the GOP should not be remiss in revealing any Democratic deviousness, especially since the Democrats are making special claims to be straight-arrow.

In the past, both parties have passed out favors in return for funds, and the practice is sure to continue. It could be sharply curtailed, however, through the enforcement of full disclosure. No business, labor union, professional or trade association, or individual should hesitate to disclose fully all gifts to candidates for political office. When money is able to influence government, the truly competitive aspects of our self-proclaimed free-enterprise system are hindered. How well one produces the goods or performs the services becomes secondary to how much one has given to successful political campaigns. Full disclosure will not eliminate all the influence that campaign contributors wield on office-holders, but, with the help of an energetic press, it will certainly curtail the more flagrant abuses.

Unlikely Criticism

The United States Supreme Court got a stiff rebuke from an unlikely source last month. A young man caught robbing a bank in Brooklyn, New York, held off police for fifteen hours, and during that time he became quite talkative. A newsman quoted him as saying:

I’ll shoot anyone in the bank. The Supreme Court will let me get away with this. There’s no death penalty. It’s ridiculous. I can shoot everyone here, then throw my gun down and walk out, and they can’t put me in the electric chair. You have to have a death penalty; otherwise this can happen every day.

What he seems to have failed to take into account is that capital punishment is still inflicted by law-enforcement officers. His accomplice in the robbery also missed the lesson—he was killed by FBI bullets that brought the siege to an end.

The effects of the Supreme Court’s decision against the death penalty deserve thorough study. We may find that in the case of capital-type crimes it will encourage police to use deadly force more readily against obvious offenders.

On The Edge Of Bleakness

John Keats captures the cornucopia of autumn in his ode “To Autumn”:

Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel.

But heavy-laden trees and deeply-dipping vines soon lose their fruit. Autumn balances between harvesttide fullness and after-harvest barrenness.

Jesus, too, talks of vines and branches, and explains the spiritual way to a rich autumn. If we, the branches, abide in him, the vine, our fruit will be worthy of God’s harvest. If not, the fruit we bear will fall unused and disregarded, leaving us barren of the richness God gives to all creatures who fulfill his purposes.

Another Munich

For those who have hoped to see sport gain greater stature as a means of promoting international harmony, the Twentieth Olympiad was a terribly disillusioning experience. The games in Munich brought out the worst in people: many a sportswriter called them a vivid reflection of the sickness of our time. We might well ask whether there is enough redeeming social value to the Olympics to warrant the all too apparent risks. As travel and communications become still easier, the risks will continue to rise.

Instead of bringing glory, the Olympic games added another black page to Munich’s history. For more than a generation the city’s name has been synonymous with appeasement because of the now infamous concessions made there to Hitler by British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain in 1938. Now Munich will also be remembered for political terrorism, ineptitude, opportunism, and poor sportsmanship.

One note of cheer, which few are aware of but which is thoroughly described in this issue’s news section, is the evangelistic blitz that took place in Munich during the Olympics. Despite the chaos, God was at work bringing men and women to himself. There, for all who were willing to look and listen, was a demonstration of the difference the Gospel can make. For this we ought to rejoice, as well as for the remarkable unity of spirit achieved by the thirty-seven Christian groups who were on hand with their 2,000 workers.

When Night Came Too Soon

Who can fail to sympathize with the incredible misfortune that befell two of America’s top sprinters, Eddie Hart and Reynaud Robinson, during the Olympic Games in Munich? A misunderstanding in scheduling was compounded to the point that they failed to appear at the appointed time for a quarter-final heat and thus missed a good chance of winning a medal. In that brief lapse, years of rigorous training went down the drain. They had prepared well, but for one reason or another they simply were not at the right place at the right time.

It seldom happens with such drama, but there are all too many times when Christians fail to seize great opportunities. We invest significant portions of our lives in getting ready—in prayer, education, and so on—and yet when a big moment comes we are not there. Jesus said, “We must work the works of him who sent me, while it is day; night comes, when no one can work.”

The infants of today are the young men and women of tomorrow, leaving home to enter adult life with the equipment largely provided by parents.

You, fathers and mothers—what have they seen in your house? Have you prepared them to face life, or have you robbed them of important things that they should have seen and experienced?

Has your example been one from which they can profit? Have your concerns been centered on time or on eternity? On material or on spiritual values?

Have your children been conditioned to consider making a living, being a “success” in life, of primary importance, or do the kingdom of God and his righteousness come first?

Have they learned the social graces at the expense of spiritual truth? Have they developed built-in safe guards to purity, or are their standards those of the world?

The children of today are the leaders of tomorrow. Character developed in the home can be the safeguard of tomorrow. The compromise of parents can become the weakness of their children. The flaws of training develop into the follies of mature life.

Only God can give the wisdom, firmness, and love that must characterize the Christian home. And this responsibility cannot be shifted to other shoulders. Teachers in church and school play an important role, but what they give must be supplemental to what children receive at home, not the sole source of training.

Basic to child training are the disciplines that center in God and his Word. “Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child,” we are told in the Book of Proverbs; we also know this by experience. Christian parents must exercise the wisdom of reproof, of restraint as well as of guidance, if their children are to learn the lesson of true discipline.

What do your children see in your home? Is yours a home where prayer is given its rightful place? Do your children see you turning often to God, praying for guidance and help? Do they sense that divine power is available to those who look to God for specific needs? Do you pray with and for the little ones God has given you? Do your children know that God is near and that he can be talked to as a loving Heavenly Father? Is prayer incidental, reserved for emergencies, or a way of life in your home?

What place has the Bible in your own daily living, and in the training of your children? Is it a pious ornament on your table, or the Book of reference and inspiration to which you turn daily?

No child has been properly trained until he knows that the Bible is God’s Word and that it speaks to the deepest needs of the human heart. What attitude toward the Scriptures are your children learning from you? Do you have a family altar, a place to which the whole family turns for prayer, praise, and the hearing of God’s truth each day?

Again we ask: What have they seen in your house? What have your children experienced at your hand? Have they had the blessing of discipline? Have they learned that you can say “yes” in love and “no” with equal love? Have they learned the meaning of honoring their parents?

What place has the church in your family life? Is it incidental or vital?

Is the cause of world missions kept before the boys and girls under your roof? Do they sense the prime importance of world evangelism, of the needs of those who do not know Christ?

Do the disasters, sorrows, and privations of others bring tangible reactions from your home? Do your children know the joy of helping others?

What have they seen in your house? What have they heard in your house? Bickering and strife? Conversations taken up with trivialities? The standards of Hollywood and its latest productions or the standards of Christ?

Is there a spirit critical of neighbors, pastor, or friends? What is the overall impression—of love or of carping criticism?

Do your children see compromise with wrong? Do they sense that your words and actions do not jibe, that there is some basic compromise with sin?

This is written primarily to you parents because your responsibilities are great, the privileges and opportunities of molding young lives for eternity.

Moses expressed this responsibility of passing on a godly heritage: “And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou risest up” (Deut. 6:7).

Such responsibilities carry over from one generation to another. Parents bear a priestly relationship to their children. Like Job of old they must pray for those whom God has given them. Like Joshua they must make the decision, “As for me and my house, we will serve the LORD” (Jos. 24:15).

Your children will only too soon pass out into the world. With them will go the impressions and training of youth. They will go either equipped for life or unprepared to meet the temptations and buffetings that are inevitable. Their future is being determined today.

What are they seeing in your house?

At about twelve noon every Sunday thousands of sermons pass into oblivion with an amen and a closing hymn. Their demise, in some cases, is most fortunate. Yet others are good enough to be shared with a larger audience. Here are some suggestions for getting more mileage out of your sermons.

A tape ministry. Sermons on tape (cassette and reel to reel) are catching on fast. Buy a supply of cassette players (available at $10 to $15) that can be checked out of your church library along with the tapes. My church lends players to anyone of high-school age or above for two weeks; the loan may be renewed for one week if the player is not on call by another borrower. Cassettes are great for people who spend a lot of time commuting.

Many churches lend tapes by mail. Make your tape catalogues available to your congregation for sending to friends. Tapes by mail may be the only solid spiritual food that some believers in isolated areas can get.

Printed sermons. The printed page has the distinct advantage of being easily carried and used. I have had each week’s sermon printed on legal-size paper and folded and stapled for mailing or for use as a handout. When the sermon is on a contemporary issue or on areas of critical need such as the Christian home, people appreciate immediate access to the material. Practically every pastor has been met at the door on Sunday morning with a remark something like, “I wish my sister in Detroit could have heard that sermon!” The sister in Detroit can, if the sermon is in print.

Another method is a sermon series published in booklet form. Several thousand copies of a series on Christian home have been moved this way. A small charge for the booklet will help finance the effort. The sermons may be transcribed from a tape recording of your sermon or from your sermon manuscript. Working from a manuscript offers a definite advantage; you have already edited what you want to say.

Ray Stedman of Peninsula Bible Church in Palo Alto, California, has a flourishing ministry of printed sermons. The operation, which costs $600 a week, has its own publications director and publication manager. Current sermons and back sermons in great demand are available in the church foyer, and hundreds of sermons a year old or more are in a large rack at the rear of the church. A catalogue and the aid of an attendant are available.

Some churches publish a weekly or monthly paper. A digest of the previous week’s sermon or an outline with Scripture references may be a good way to recall the sermon to mind and provoke further thought and study. During a series it would give the congregation a midweek link between sermons and prepare them for the one to come.

Newspaper digest. Some newspapers are interested in what local preachers are saying. For example, for several years Beryl Keene, religious editor of the Northern Virginia Sun, did a column called “A Stranger Visits a Church” in which she wrote a complete digest of a sermon. I kept her supplied with a copy of my sermon every week; so supplied, she gave me far more coverage than any other area pastor.

The Washington Post carried a shorter digest of sermons every Monday morning. The material had to speak to national concerns, however. I was most fortunate to have a journalist in my congregation who kept the Post supplied with well-written digests. Scout your congregation; someone may already have the newspaper contacts you need.

Newspaper ad. A glance at the Saturday church page usually reveals a hopeless jumble of church ads. Even if the casual reader stops to examine them, usually the only information he gets about a sermon is the title.

I comb my sermon for the item that seems to have the most popular interest, perhaps the conclusion of the sermon or an application of one of the points. Then I write about twenty-five words to hook the reader’s interest. The headline of the ad may or may not be the sermon title. The most important consideration of the headline is that it avoids the usual “churchy” language that appears on the church page.

Magazine features. Editors of the several hundred Christian periodicals and denominational magazines published today are always on the lookout for timely, well written material. But by no means is every sermon a potential magazine article. Let your manuscript simmer on the back burner for several days. Then come back and read it as though it had been written by someone else. Attack it critically! If the sermon survives this appraisal, it may be worth rewriting for submission to a magazine.

If this possibility interests you, read all you can on the subject of writing. Christian Writers Institute in Wheaton offers courses in writing. And Decision magazine will be announcing its next writers’ workshop in its January issue.

Radio and television. Many ministers have avoided using radio and television either because of prohibitive expense or because they feel they lack technical know-how. But neither problem is insurmountable. Station owners, aware of interest in religion, usually are willing to listen to your ideas on how to get the public to watch or listen to their station. Get to know the station owners or managers and find out what they want. Let the question of financing come later. The owners or managers will do what they can to help you get on the air if your ideas are good enough.

Surprisingly, the broadcasting of church services still holds interest. One congregation in Indiana purchased equipment and had the inside of the church remodeled to accommodate television cameras. The station engineer trained members of the congregation to operate the camera and audio equipment.

One of the most unusual telecasts is “The Bible For the Deaf” in Columbia, South Carolina. It is a Bible lesson designed for those with hearing loss, broadcast for a half hour on Saturday. The program offers a complete church service with Bible readings, hymns, and a sermon. The cameras are not only on the minister and musicians; they also follow an expert who translates the service into sign language. The program has drawn much praise not only from the deaf but also from others who appreciate a ministry to a particular human need.

A broadcast sermon may be followed by a “talk back” segment in which listeners may respond to the sermon by telephone with questions and comments. Response from a live audience in the studio is another possibility.

If you’re interested in radio and TV, read a lot on the subject and talk with the local station owners or managers. This barely tapped-field of religious programming may be for you.—ANDRE BUSTANOBY, pastor, Temple Baptist Church, Fullerton, California.

Reconstructing Jesus

A Future For the Historical Jesus: The Place of Jesus in Preaching and Theology, by Leander E. Keck (Abingdon, 1971, 271 pp., $6.50), is reviewed by Glenn A. Koch, associate professor of New Testament studies, Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary, Philadelphia.

Keck, professor of New Testament at the Divinity School of Vanderbilt University, writes for the clergyman and for the professional scholar. He works from within the realm of contemporary literary criticism and interprets the results in ways that should cause rejoicing in Christendom.

Because of its interdisciplinary argument, Keck’s book is not easy reading. He uses the language of biblical criticism, that of contemporary theological “schools,” sociology, religious thought, and language analysis, and on a few occasions lapses into scholarly jargon (such as “repristinate,” used several times, and “ingressive trust”). However, the book is a very significant work that will more than repay the reader for his time and effort.

Keck’s thesis is that Jesus needs to be “recovered and reconstructed by rigorous historical method.” To do this one needs to maintain a skeptical attitude toward the sources (this is not hostility); he needs to answer historical questions with historical considerations rather than logical ones; and he is obligated to account for the sources as they are, not merely sift them for hard-core facts. If one pursues the historical study of Jesus, Keck is sure that some results, even though limited, can emerge.

Keck reviews briefly the history of the debate over the relation of historical fact to faith. In view of the problems surrounding the use of “faith” as a term that conveys meaning, he proposes “trust” as an alternative. Trust is basic to human existence; it is an act of the self as a self in response to a self; it has social dimensions. The real issue is the relation of the historical Jesus and the act of trust, or what it means to trust Jesus. Keck shows that trust in God has both “vertical” and “horizontal” dimensions which, theologically, can be termed “salvation.”

In chapter three, perhaps the chapter most useful to the pastor, Keck distinguishes between gospel and propaganda, theology and ideology. Propaganda is the skillful use of facts to promote a corporation, for instance, or a political party, or a social ideology. “The gospel is debased into propaganda,” says Keck, “whenever the church’s message uses the plight of man, wittingly or otherwise, to enhance the status of the institution, and looks to Jesus as its warrant.”

Ideology is the “theoretical underpinning for propaganda.” When the Church begins to propagandize, “its theology hardens into an ideology without a sense of mystery,” and “the possibility that the church has been wrong appears as an intolerable threat and the call for revision as insurrection.”

Early Christian preaching cannot be classified as propaganda because the apostles were not absorbed in promoting current Messianic expectations or Gnostic systems. This line of thought allows Keck to charge Bultmann, Fuchs, and Ebeling with propagandizing when they make the historical Jesus serve their own modern concerns for security. He also criticizes those identified with the “new quest for the historical Jesus” for making the Kerygma an alternate route to historiography, i.e., ascertaining Jesus by historical methodology.

According to Keck the historical Jesus is to be used in preaching as the catalytic question that “does not provide the congregation with the self-evident answer but exposes a question which invites a response.” By placing the historical Jesus as central to the message one produces a better “grace-laden occasion” than by presenting the Christ of Christian dogma, because “the Christology of the Church is not the door to faith.” The “centrality of Jesus is constitutive of historical Christianity.”

While he recognizes that the trustworthiness of Jesus cannot be proved by historiography, Keck explores the potential of working with the historical “(the historian’s)” Jesus in the area of salvation (“To trust Jesus is to appropriate him as the index of God”) and in the area of the character of God (“… through the cross, understanding of God and trusting God coalesce, so that it is this God who is trusted or repudiated. In this way, the classical theological point is grounded in the historic Jesus: at the cross, revelation, reconciliation, and faith occur together, or they do not occur at all.”

Keck has put together a historical and theological treatment of Jesus that merits serious attention.

But Well Adjusted

Speaking in Tongues, by Felicitas D. Goodman (University of Chicago, 1972, 175 pp., $7.50), is reviewed by Sandor Kovacs, retired professor of sociology, Oral Roberts University, Tulsa, Oklahoma.

This small book carries the subtitle “A Cross-Cultural Study of Glossolalia.” It is a description of glossolalists’ behavior and manner of speaking. The author considers glossolalia a form of dissociation, similar to vision, hallucination, trance, and spirit possession.

Dr. Goodman set out to test the hypothesis that the glossolalist “speaks the way he does because his speech behavior is modified by the way the body acts in the particular mental state, often termed trance, into which he places himself.” She continues: “In my terms then, when a person has removed himself from awareness of the ordinary reality surrounding him he is in an altered mental state.”

The persons she observed she describes as “lower-class whites” in Columbus, Ohio, “mostly lower middle class” persons in Mexico City, and “peasants” on Yucatán Peninsula. She notes, “Women go into glossolalia much more easily than men.” For the glossolalists she has an assuring word: practicing glossolalists are well adjusted people who, aside from speaking in tongues, behave normally in their communities.

The two major conclusions in this study are: (1) Like other forms of communication, glossolalia is learned or acquired from the social and cultural environment; (2) there are recognizable configuration patterns, such as phonetic characteristics, across the various cultural settings studied. No attempt was made to evaluate the possible influences on the tongues-speakers of the presence of a researcher who took her tape recorder, notebook, and microphone from one person to another during the trance.

Speaking in Tongues is a good illustration of the difficulty of studying that form of human behavior called glossolalia.

Long Overdue

Personal Living: An Introduction to Paul Tournier, by Monroe Peaston (Harper & Row, 1972, 107 pp., $4.95), is reviewed by Glenn Wittig, reference librarian, Speer Library, Princeton Theological Seminary, Princeton, New Jersey.

Paul Tournier became well known in the States after the publication, in 1957, of The Meaning of Persons. Before long, all his other major works as well as some shorter ones were translated into English, and more than a million copies of the English translations have been published. (His writings have also been translated into Danish, Dutch, Finnish, German, Italian, Japanese, Norwegian, Spanish, and Swedish.) Guilt and Grace, The Strong and the Weak, The Seasons of Life, The Meaning of Gifts, and The Adventure of Living are some of the titles.

Despite the popularity of Tournier’s works, very little has been written about him. This introduction to the man and his writings fills a long-standing need. It is not a biography. Neither is it a definitive critical study; Tournier’s journal articles, in particular, have not been included. It is a succinct and appreciative introduction to the man and his views as expressed in his books.

Peaston, an associate professor of pastoral psychology at McGill University, has directed a number of thesis projects related to Tournier’s works. He tries to expound the salient ideas from Tournier’s books and to relate these ideas to Tournier’s own life and practice. And he succeeds admirably. The tone of the work is expositive; comment and criticism are reserved for a short final chapter.

The opening two chapters deal with major influences upon Tournier’s life, such as the early death of his parents, the friendship of his Greek teacher, his part in the formation and continuance of the Bossey Group, and the influence—both pro and con—of Frank Buchman and the Oxford Group (later known as Moral Rearmament). Tournier’s association with the Oxford Group is presented fairly and wholesomely.

Chapters three through seven summarize Tournier’s thinking on such themes as loneliness, fear, guilt, malaise and rebirth, vocation, and the meaning of persons. Analysis of each theme is restricted, for the most part, to its expression in a single major work, though many of the themes appear in almost all of Tournier’s writings. And herein lies the deficiency in Peaston’s approach. These middle chapters are little more than digests of book contents, though they are seasoned with illustrations and with excerpts from the writings of other well-known persons such as Carl Jung, William James, Carl Rogers, Karen Horney, and Eric Berne.

Yet the book is a joy to read. It is written in a simple style, without being simplistic. Tournier fans should welcome it as a handy synopsis; the uninitiated will find it a heartwarming introduction to some exciting new reading.

Newly Published

Jesus the Messiah, by Donald Guthrie (Zondervan, 386 pp., $6.95). A leading evangelical scholar offers a first-class, non-technical, chronological survey of the life and teachings of Christ. Well illustrated.

A Coffee House Manual, by Don and Ann Wilkerson (Bethany Fellowship, 96 pp., $2.25 pb). A very practical guide for those who want to engage in this effective kind of youth evangelism.

Power in Praise, by Merlin R. Carothers (Logos, 115 pp., $1.95 pb). A sequel to Prison to Praise, this volume contains ample testimony of what can happen when we obey God’s command to praise him in all things.

Putting It Together in the Parish, by James D. Glasse (Abingdon, 159 pp., $3.95). Loads of truly practical advice for pastors by the president of Lancaster Seminary (United Church of Christ). Outgrowth of lectures at Austin Presbyterian Seminary.

Theology of Play, by Jürgen Moltmann (Harper & Row, 113 pp., $4.95). Moltmann gives us some lively reflections on the meaning of rejoicing and liberation that seem to grow out of an orthodox biblical view of redemption in Christ; his American interlocutors respond with trivialities, blasphemous jokes, and good and bad etymology; Moltmann sums up with advice that makes his original contribution seem more flip and trivial than it previously had.

Christian Counseling and Occultism, by Kurt Koch (Kregel, 338 pp., $3.95 pb). The best of this German author’s many books is now available in paperback. It is, regrettably, more needed in English-speaking lands now than when it first appeared.

The Fortune Sellers: Occult Phenomenon of the Twentieth Century, by Gary Wilburn (Regal, 223 pp., $1.25 pb), Satan, Satanism, and Witchcraft, by Richard DeHaan (Zondervan, 125 pp., $3.50, $.95 pb), and The Return of Magic: A Probe Into the Psychological and Religious Roots of Magic and Witchcraft, by David Farren (Harper & Row, 118 pp. $4.95). The first two books are additional evangelical offerings on this resurgent religion. The last book is by an ex-Catholic seminarian turned skeptic who found he had married a hereditary witch. Advanced, mature students of this rival religion might be interested in his reflections.

Genesis in Space and Time, by Francis Schaeffer (Inter-Varsity, 167 pp., $2.25). The well-known apologete expounds on the first eleven chapters of the Bible, showing their foundational importance. (The same author and publisher have also just released The New Super Spirituality [30 pp., $.75 pb] and Back to Freedom and Dignity [48 pp., $.95 pb]).

Evidences of the Authenticity, Inspiration, and Canonical Authority of the Holy Scriptures, by Archibald Alexander (Arno, 308 pp., $15). Reprinting of the 1836 edition of a major work by the founder of the Princeton theology. The topic is as relevant as ever, and Alexander’s approach is worth reading.

I AMness: The Discovery of the Self Beyond the Ego, by Ian Kent and William Nicholls (Bobbs-Merrill, 258 pp., $5.95). A popularization of Hindu-inspired pantheism as a basis of psychotherapy and life adjustment by two unusually balanced and irenic authors; interesting, but incompatible with a biblical view of God and man.

Friendly Heritage: Letters From the Quaker Past (Silvermine Publishers [Comstock Hill, Norwalk, Conn. 06850], 342 pp., $9.95). The 240 “Letters from the Past”—really a series of columns—focus on the tradition of the Quakers and provide an interesting, well-written approach to their history.

Religion’s Influence in Contemporary Society, edited by Joseph E. Faulkner (Charles E. Merrill [1300 Alum Creek Dr., Columbus, Ohio 43216], 578 pp., $9.95). A well edited handbook providing examples of good work in the sociology of religion. Since most of them are written from a secularist or liberal religious perspective the book’s seeming objectivity is on balance illusory. Contains some non-statistical opinion pieces such as those by James H. Cone (black consciousness) and Huston Smith.

The Problem of Miracle in Primitive Christianity, by Anton Fridrichsen (Augsburg, 174 pp., $5.95). English translation of a 1925 work that influenced much of academic biblical study.

The Reform of Society, by Lyman Beecher (Arno, 211 pp., $11). Reprinting of nine sermons by one of the foremost early nineteenth-century American evangelicals. Six are on intemperance.

TWO TIMES TWO

Strangely enough, I still remember my initiation into the mysteries of the multiplication table. It happened in Mrs. Dunlap’s room in the third grade. Confronted with that great mysterious acrostic with 144 squares I thought, “I’ll never learn that.” I was almost right. Without a little mechanical help I might never have gotten through the whole nightmare.

Now it can be told. My father had given me an automatic pencil with a revolving barrel. One strip of the barrel was of clear plastic exposing a row of the multiplication table to view. By spinning the barrel one could find any product up to twelve times twelve.

I became expert at holding the pencil just below the corner of my desk and spinning the barrel with my thumb. (Mrs. Dunlap, wherever you are, forgive me.)

By the time I entered the fourth grade the pencil had disappeared, and that meant trouble. It was one of the few times I was ever in a sweat to learn. My assiduousness impressed both parents and friends. It wasn’t easy. After rattling off the seven table I would realize the six table had fled my memory.

Eventually, however, sheer repetition did the trick. Now, waked in the middle of the night I can provide you with the product of eleven times eleven or of seven times nine.

Our youngest son is presently going through this struggle. He came home after the first day of school and announced, “We had a math test. The teacher wanted to see how much we remember from last year.”

“How’d you do?” I asked.

“Pretty good. I only missed six.”

“How many questions were there?”

“Twenty,” he responded cheerfully.

Archibald Rutledge, former poet laureate of South Carolina, once commented that he wrote his first poem on entering the third grade. Seeing what he was supposed to remember from the previous year he versified:

Every summer

I get dumber.

But he learned it all. And my son will learn the multiplication table and fractions and percentages. Once he does, he’ll never forget them.

My question is, why can’t we get the lessons of the Christian life down pat like the multiplication table? Why does Jesus have to keep teaching us the same old lessons over and over? If you have an answer please send it to …

RENEWED APPRECIATION

The editorial in the June 23 issue, “The Lord Is Coming Again!,” was pointed, powerful, pertinent, and personal. It would be much easier for me to modify my views and stand with the majority of our day who are looking for a reign of Christ on this earth. At the same time I cannot be dogmatic about my amillennial views and break fellowship with precious warm-hearted brethren who are laboring for the Christ who is coming again!

Big Lake Church of God

Columbia City, Ind.

P.C.U.S. AND INERRANCY

It is cause for both alarm and sorrow when we see men who profess to be Christian leaders undermining the very basis of the Christian faith. This has been happening all over the world, and one recent incident of this nature prompted me to write this. I refer to your news item in the July 7 issue on the annual meeting of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church U.S. (“Southern Presbyterians Elect Bell, Stay in COCU”), reported as “rejecting 264 to 50 a report that would have put the denomination on record as holding to biblical inerrancy”.… One wonders how people who have been born again through faith in Jesus Christ can make such a tragic error.

Courtenay, British Columbia

NOT OF TRINITY

The paragraph which mentions the People’s Christian Coalition group in your Explo ’72 story (July 7) could lead some of your readers into directly associating this group with Trinity College and Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. Although this group has many legitimate grievances, they are but a small fraction of the college and seminary student body of about 1,200. It should not be thought that their ideas and beliefs are in any way representative of the student body. Unfortunately, some of the supporters of Trinity have tended to be misled by the extent of the publicity that the Coalition has received, much of which has been distorted. They do not represent Trinity, neither are they supported by Trinity.

Deerfield, Ill.

MORE PARTICIPATION NEEDED

I disagree with the premise in your editorial “Sport: Are We Overdoing It?” (August 11). In the Old Testament tradition, man was a fully unified being of body, soul, and spirit and no part of him should be neglected. Sport is an altogether appropriate activity for the Christian, perhaps one that most Christians have neglected. The problem, which you fail to mention, is that sports today is too much a spectator thing than a participatory one.

Washington, D. C.

WELFARE FOR ALL

As an old and appreciative reader of CHRISTIANITY TODAY, I am intrigued with your editorial “Sunday Laws and Human Welfare” (July 28). I can understand a religious motivation for Sunday laws, but using welfare as the “reason” for such laws makes no sense to me. If the welfare of all workers is our real concern, we should exact laws which guarantee to every employee of all business concerns, including supermarkets, a five-day working week. The employee could choose to work a sixth day at time-and-a-half pay. Working the seventh day of any given seven days would be prohibited, or in certain cases permitted only if the worker is paid double time. Such a plan would effectively protect the worker and would not arouse the cry of “blue laws.”

Hinsdale, Ill.

TOO MUCH DRY CEREAL?

CHRISTIANITY TODAY is too much “ivory tower” for me to get much out of it. Eutychus I dig, L. Nelson Bell sometimes, but the monotonous professionalism in the wordy articles makes me turn the page—only to find more of it there.

And your poetry! Why don’t you get a human being for a poetry editor? I’d like to see more poetry, but such as can be read from a pulpit and grasped by a congregation. Preachers that I know don’t have time or inclination to sit and ruminate over what you print.

I subscribed to CHRISTIANITY TODAY for some years and dropped it. Then in order to get the Living Bible I signed up again. I’d like to renew for the paper, not for a “come-on” offer. But frankly speaking, most of the contents is like shredded wheat without milk, possibly nourishment but not too appetizing. The redeeming feature of CHRISTIANITY TODAY is its sincerity. I’m strong for that, but what I want is some milk and sugar on my shredded wheat.

Portsmouth, N. H.

JUXTAPOSITION

The position of two news items in your August 11 issue was most suggestive (“Holy War in Canada” and “Unhistoric Judgment”). I don’t know what Forrest published, but one argument for the Jewish review alleged that Christ was illegitimately born (blaspheming his virgin birth of the Holy Spirit). Is B’nai B’rith also subject to libel suits over alleged anti-Christian libel?

Almonte, Ontario

NOT SECOND HAND

Leon Morris, in his Current Religious Thought column “God’s Dice or God’s Purpose” (August 11) gives us an excellent example of a person using a pretext in place of a text. It is surely unconscionable to rebut Monod’s argument while acknowledging that he has read only a review of Monod’s Chance and Necessity. It is ingenuous of him to think that Monod’s argument can be rebutted with the old homely illustrations. Those who have read Monod and found him persuasive will simply be alienated by Morris’s shabby scholarship. Those who have read Monod and want to rebut him know that it cannot be done at second hand.

Chairman, Humanities Division

Wabash College

Crawfordsville, Ind.

There are several points in addition to those Morris made which may be helpful in appraising the current scientific scene, especially to people unfamiliar with the ways man’s total depravity has affected his scientific endeavors.

In distinction to Morris, it is not a good enough apologetic to get people to ask “Why?” instead of “How?” because the scientist already has his reasons which go no further than the laws of physics, chemistry, and chance, and which therefore exclude the God of Scripture. Such a scientist also is not ultimately impressed by the apparent enormity, design, regularity, and purpose of the universe, for even these senses of grandeur have their explanations in physical laws of human brain molecules. When men form their hypotheses around the postulate that no God exists, it is not at all surprising that they end up without him.

Thus it is not a matter of giving “more than one explanation of an occurrence, such that each is true and each is complete in itself,” for not only would Christianity be no longer an imperative, but Scripture passages that point to the prior necessity for the knowledge of God would be vitiated. As Christians, we are not allowed to compartmentalize our thoughts into what is scientific and what is of faith, for whatsoever is not of faith is sin. Our message, then, must involve presupposing God’s special revelation as a framework into which we fit our scientific findings, not vice versa. Monod, therefore, is not simply seeing but one side of existence; he is dead wrong.

Cambridge, Mass.

WORD OF PRAISE

Part I of Harold Lindsell’s article on “The Infallible Word” (August 25) deserves special commendation. I found it especially refreshing to read such a presentation of the case from the pen of a well-known and respected evangelical when so many well-known evangelicals seem to have betrayed their trust in the integrity of Scripture. It was highly gratifying to read his treatment of “inerrancy.” Altogether too many are willing to surrender on that point in the face of a “world come of age.” I anticipate the forthcoming conclusion to the article, and trust that it will be of like caliber!

Wilmer Independent Baptist Church

Phoenixville, Pa.

An erroneous explanation of the inerrant Word scarcely helps understanding. The editor says, “The writers of Scripture were inspired …”; and, quoting the Baptist New Hampshire Confession, “We believe that the Holy Bible was written by men divinely inspired”—neither of which does the Bible say. However, in explaining pasa graphe, it is correctly stated, “The very words of Scripture are thus inspired …”

Fortunately inspiration is a quality not of the men who wrote but of their product. All the Scripture writers are dead, but inspiration did not die with them for inspiration was a quality not of their persons but of their writings. Theopneustos, God-breathed, is a verbal adjective used in the New Testament only this once, and it modifies graphe, the written word, only. While the prophets spoke from God and were born (pherō) by the Spirit, we only add confusion by stretching “inspiration” to cover matters other than graphe. Probably this already weasel word should be abandoned even though so deeply intrenched in systematic theology. “God-breathed” does it better, and is true to biblical theology. For a short definition we would say, Inspiration is that quality God imparted to the Scripture writings of men chosen by him and born along by the Holy Spirit by which their written word is God-breathed. And if a Doctrine of Inspiration, why not also a Doctrine of Profitableness, since ōphelimos bears exactly the same relation to graphe as does theopneustos?

Hillcrest Heights, Md.

The spiritual person is a reflective person. It is by reflection that he becomes acquainted with the mind and ways of God. Consequently, when Scripture wants to speak of the secular man it says he is one who has “forgotten” God (Ps. 50:22; 106:21). By contrast, the godly man is one who “remembers” God (Ps. 119:55; 111:4). This distinction is axiomatic in biblical teaching; few doubt its validity. The presence, then, in some evangelical churches of a form of spirituality that is decidedly if not deliberately unreflective is a matter of no small concern.

Reflective spirituality is exhibited well in the psalms. The psalmists’ food was to think on God, in times of adversity (Ps. 119:78; 143:3–5) no less than of peace, in the night (Ps. 1:2; 63:5–7) no less than in the day. They knew that a man is not other than his meditation; “for as [a man] thinketh in his heart, so is he” (Prov. 23:7). This is a profound lesson to learn. It quite clearly underlies all Jesus’ teaching on personal sanctity (Matt. 15:17–20; 12:34; 5:27).

Apparently the psalmists were in the habit of taking a text or passage of Scripture and ruminating on it during the day. “I will meditate on thy precepts …” (Ps. 119:15) says one author. He decided to do this and then followed up his decision by daily, dogged discipline. The law, he adds, “is my meditation all the day” (Ps. 119:97). Probably no day passed in which he did not reflect on the Word, and it was his intention not to perform any action in the course of the day without consciously aligning it with biblical teaching.

Meditation is more than simply Bible reading. What comes into the mind will just as quickly go out, leaving behind neither joy nor instruction, if it is not actively appropriated. Asaph speaks of musing on God’s ways, turning these thoughts over in his mind (Ps. 77:12). It is the habit of meditating that allows truth to take root in us. Meditation is the plow that breaks up the fallow ground (cf. Jer. 4:3; Hos. 10:12) in preparation for the seed, and it is the harrow that follows behind the planting. No great Christian attained his spiritual maturity without learning the art of meditation.

In Psalm 49:3 the psalmist explains why this is so. “My mouth shall speak of wisdom,” he says, “and the meditation of my heart shall be of understanding.” The first assertion seems to have reference to prophetic activity, but the author immediately links it with reflection. The Spirit who made the prophets eloquent first of all made them thoughtful. In the later prophets especially, the Spirit first led them to ponder deeply the ways of God and the shortcomings of men. Then, when this reflective process came to maturity, they were ready to speak. Their words arose out of the depths and caught fire. Any man who wishes to speak with authority must learn this lesson. If evangelical pastors would relearn the lost art of meditation, congregations would not leave their churches as hungry as when they came in (a situation far more common within evangelicalism than many would care to admit).

To people of today, harried by life’s insidious pressures, its corrosive demands, and the force of its dramatic change, one of the astonishing aspects of the psalms is the unbounded enthusiasm with which the psalmist reflected on the divine Word and ways. He said he loved the law (Ps. 119:97); it was his delight (Ps. 119:15), even “sweeter than honey” (Ps. 119:103). In a summary statement it is said: “My meditation of him shall be sweet” (Ps. 104:34). It is this delight in God, the first fruits of meditation, that made David dance. “It stands out as something astonishingly robust, virile, spontaneous,” says C. S. Lewis, “something we may regard with an innocent envy and may hope to be infected by as we read” (Reflections on the Psalms).

There seems to be a vicious circle involved in this. We do not reflect on God unless we desire to do so; we do not desire to do so unless we habitually reflect on him. The tempo of the inner life was very high when the psalmists spoke of delighting in God. But this hunger for God was always in a tenuous balance with its satisfaction, and the satisfaction, oddly enough, seemed to enlarge the hunger. Deep satisfaction there was (Ps. 63:6), but the soul continued to thirst for God “like a parched land” (Ps. 143:6); the psalmist was like the deer searching for water, desperately needing to drink (Ps. 42:1; 63:1, 2).

There is no easy way into this circle. The desire for God does not appear overnight like the desert bloom. It is, like all life, fragile in its infancy. Like a newborn child it has to be carefully tended, nourished, and trained. Reflection leads to desire and desire stimulates reflection. The utter seriousness of this quest, however, cannot be diluted.

In three incidental remarks in the Psalms a window is opened for us to look into the godly soul. When David retired to bed at the end of the day, his thoughts turned to God. On his bed, he said, he thought about God (Ps. 63:5–7), even into “the watches of the night”; it was “in the night” (Ps. 119:55) and “day and night” (Ps. 1:2) that the psalmists did their meditation. When the darkness and silence of the nighttime enclosed them, they abandoned the worries of the day. Their real concerns now emerged. In their aloneness there were no social or family pressures to be “religious.” Privacy offers no encouragement to hypocrisy. What a man does when he is alone is the best indicator of what he is really like. No one is incapable of “play-acting” before others, but it takes an unusual person to enjoy deceiving himself when he is alone. The unrelenting seriousness in the pursuit of God now becomes clear from the Psalms. It is both instructive and disturbing.

The psalmists’ sense of priorities, their careful preservation of the important things, perhaps gives us the clue to why, by contrast, Christian spirituality today is sometimes unreflective and undelightful. No less than they, we are in constant contention with “the world” for our priorities. But whereas they won the battle, we sometimes lose it.

A witness to this point, though from an alien quarter, is Herbert Marcuse. In his book One Dimensional Man he speaks of the pressures of conformity and control that society exercises over man. These controls begin to resemble prison bars, outside of which the human spirit cannot wander. The economy requires certain standards of living, and the opinion-makers on television blatantly or insidiously insist that we meet them. The struggle for existence becomes a battle in which, more often than not, we lose. If nothing else, he says, we lose our humanity even if we keep our heads above water financially. La dolce vita is, in fact, a rat race.

Marcuse speaks, too, of a political system that functions without regard for those whom it is supposed to represent. It creates its values and imposes them on people who are powerless to resist. The values it has ordered are dehumanizing ones. If it is the Welfare State it is also the Warfare State; its inherent disregard for life when “policy” requires it now becomes plain.

Further, Marcuse believes that freedom of thought has largely been surrendered, albeit unwittingly. It has been supplanted by the indoctrinating process of mass communication. The opinion-makers, principally those shadowy figures who control the networks, implant in people needs and ideas that they, the opinion-makers, rather than the people, define as important. Priorities are established by the corporation, political parties, and advertisers. These priorities are then accepted with little thought and even less struggle. Man has simply become a pawn in a large game played by impersonal forces, a fly caught in a web of values spun by someone other than himself.

Stated in these terms, Marcuse’s discussion of societal controls in some ways lies quite near to at least one aspect of the Bible’s teaching on the “world.” This word “world” is used in Scripture to designate the web of values that has been spun with man, rather than God, at its center. Man’s pleasures and desires are the end to which all life’s processes are directed. Humanistic assumptions replace religious norms. And so those who build their lives on these values are the enemies of God (Jas. 4:4). To be sure, Christians have an existence in the midst of society, but their life and values are not derived from it (John 17:14–17). Being “worldly,” then, is a far more serious matter than simply succumbing to the trivial do’s and don’ts with which the “world” is usually identified. It means that at one place or another, a Christian has adopted values that assume God is not a meaningful reference point for a value-system and may be disregarded. The Christian lives as if God were dead, however vehemently he might deny this in theory.

A value-system detached from divine reference is open to manipulation, and this is what Marcuse sees happening today. His description, insofar as it is accurate, covers one phase or chapter in this sequence of worldliness. Judged by Christian standards, Marcuse’s view of man and his proposal for liberation from societal controls are woefully inadequate. Nevertheless, his analysis of contemporary society bears careful consideration.

If there are Christians who have succumbed to these societal controls, they are the victims of a value-system that is not only unchristian but also anti-Christian. It aggressively assumes that man has displaced God from His world. This being so, the desire to reflect on God and his ways not only is irrelevant but also runs quite counter to activities that assume that he can be ignored. The extent to which this worldliness reigns in us is the extent to which we neglect the culture of the inner life.

In addition to this, and perhaps as part of it, an all-pervasive activism has infiltrated American Christianity. It is, in fact, the by-product of the element of change that is so much a part of contemporary life. What is paramount is what is now; activity is associated with life (and relevance), while inactivity is associated with death (and irrelevance). Thought is devalued; action is considered to hold the key to Christian life. If a Christian is not out “doing,” he is backsliding.

This attitude is part of a much wider one that has tinged the whole of American life. In his 1964 Pulitzer prize-winner Anti-Intellectualism in American Life, Richard Hofstadter has this to say:

Both our religion and our business has been touched by the pervasive egalitarianism of American life.… At an early date, literature and learning were stigmatized as the prerogatives of useless aristocracies.… It seemed to be the goal of the common man in America to build a society that would show how much could be done without literature and learning—or rather, a society whose literature and learning would be largely limited to such things as the common man could grasp and use.… Ours is the only educational system in the world vital segments of which have fallen into the hands of people who joyfully and militantly proclaim their hostility to intellect and show their eagerness to identify with children who show the least intellectual promise [Vintage Books, 1963, p. 50].

A striking illustration of Hofstadter’s last point was the recent decision of Indiana University to include a course on comics in its curriculum.

Not to reflect on one’s Christian life is all too easy, first because the pressures of life work against meditation, and second because we have all learned to be suspicious about the mind. Unreflective spirituality, then, is a “natural” by-product of our age. But it is natural only in the sense in which all sins are natural (1 Cor. 2:14). It is really a grievous flaw.

The teaching of Scripture and the wisdom of the ages combine to condemn it. If the psalmists are clear on this point, so are those saints in all ages who have in any way sought to recapture the biblical ideal. “Seek a convenient time (Eccles. 3:1) to yourself and meditate often upon God’s loving kindnesses,” counsels Thomas à Kempis. Prayer, meditation, and temptation, declares Martin Luther, makes the man of God. Calvin speaks of the “cares of the world” and the “daily temptations which suddenly overtake us,” leaving “no time or leisure for meditating on the doctrine of God.” He urges Christians to be clear-sighted enough to resist these temptations; we are to “direct all our energies to the subject of meditation on God’s precepts.” A little later, when Protestant orthodoxy was declining inwardly while outwardly remaining impeccably pure, Philip Spener had occasion to speak of this truth again:

This much is certain: the diligent use of the Word of God, which consists not only of listening to sermons, but also of reading, meditating and discussing (Ps. 2:1), must be the chief means of reforming something.… The Word of God remains the seed from which all that is good in us must grow [Pia Desideria].

What Spener said is especially relevant today, for our situation closely parallels his. Now, as then, the Church does not lack for professions of orthodoxy. But orthodoxy, while it is the beginning of godliness, is not a substitute for it. The most urgent need today is to recover a high view of Scripture practically. It is one thing to affirm one’s belief in the plenary inspiration of Scripture; it is quite another to live in accordance with this truth. After all, what profit is there, my brothers, if a man says he believes in inerrancy but does not meditate? Can his bare affirmation save him? Someone will say, “My affirmation shows my faith even as your meditation shows yours.” Yes, but even the devils affirm inerrancy. When will you learn, you empty man, that faith-affirmations apart from works are dead?

David F. Wells is assistant professor of church history and the history of Christian thought at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, Deerfield, Illinois. He received the Ph.D. from the University of Manchester.

Man has shown he can solve many of his problems. He has developed microphones and subways and contraceptives and flea collars and erasable bond. He can have his air conditioned and his face “lifted.” Awaiting his beck and call are computers, tranquilizers, telephones, and—sometimes—vending machines. He can fly now and pay later, protected during his trip by vaccines and traveler’s checks. True, he is still haunted by gigantic problems of poverty, disease, pollution. But he is confident that, given a little more time and a lot more money, he can find cures for these and other remaining ills.

There is one basic problem, however, that he shows few signs of solving: conflict between human beings. Despite all the efforts of idealists, reformers, and even revolutionaries, conflict continues between individuals, between classes, and between nations, thereby contributing to many of man’s other problems.

Men have been wondering for centuries about this apparently ineradicable tendency to fight. Immanuel Kant blamed man’s irrational loyalties and desires: all would be well if only man could order political and international affairs more rationally. Karl Marx held that the cause of the trouble was class conflict arising from the unequal distribution of wealth: let everybody be reduced to one class with the whole economic mechanism owned by all, and everything would become peaceful. Friedrich Nietzsche attributed the constant struggle to “the will to power.” Others have named other causes. But they all have missed the point. Man’s tendency to fight his fellows springs from the depths of his own personality. Each one of us is an egotist who wants to play God, at least in his own little world. We seek to be free to do our own thing without being constrained by either man or God. The problem is, in a word, spiritual; strife in economic, political, and social spheres usually is rooted in man’s spiritual condition.

Behind man’s conflicts lies his alienation from God, his separation from his Creator, Sustainer, and Lord, the true center of his being. In his sinful desire to be God, man has declared his independence. He has cut himself adrift on a sea for which he has no map. And the Pole Star, the sovereign God, is clouded from his sight by his own rebellion and by God’s wrath against his sin. Knowing God, as Paul says in Romans 1, man yet denies him, rebelling not only against his Lord but also against his own true self. He suppresses the knowledge of God and of his own creaturely nature, bringing dire consequences to himself and to all around him.

That man’s denial of God affects the whole creation is very evident in his self-assertive destruction of the environment. Furthermore, because of man’s rebellion, God’s judgment rests upon all of creation. But sin’s most obvious consequences appear in man’s relations with man; when men no longer submit to and trust God and when they assume that no one else does either, trust between “neighbors” disappears. And, as Max Lerner pointed out in one of his syndicated columns, where trust disappears, society breaks into universal conflict. Unbelieving, disobedient man then seeks to force stability by setting up some sort of dictatorship to overcome the disintegration he has caused. Only the grace of God restrains man from destroying himself and his world.

Into this situation came Jesus Christ, the Word of God, the express image of God’s person, the Creator, the Sustainer and Ruler of all things (John 1:1 ff.; Col. 1:15 ff.). He came not for some economically, socially, or politically revolutionary purpose but to reconcile the world to God. He came to satisfy the demands of God’s justice and at the same time to remove the cloud between man and his Creator and turn man back to the true center of his life, the sovereign Triune God. Only Christ could accomplish this, for he alone was and is both God and man. By Christ’s life, death, and resurrection God reconciled the world unto himself.

Yet man refuses to accept God’s offer. The idea that he must humble himself before God, acknowledging that he is a sinner who can be reconciled to God only by divine grace, is unappealing. Man prefers to think he can earn God’s acceptance. But the Holy Spirit has been sent to open man’s eyes to his condition before God and to the availability of God’s offer of reconciliation. When the Spirit effectively calls a man, he is “born again” as a new creature, for he then returns to his true condition and status as God’s child, giving to Christ the preeminence in all things (1 Pet. 2:25). Reconciliation to God is thus completed in and through the gift of the Spirit.

But this is only the beginning of a process. Before regeneration, a man’s life is off center for he considers himself the hub of his own existence. But Christian man recognizes and accepts his position not only as a forgiven sinner but also as a creature of God placed in this world to serve Christ his Lord. The world around him is no longer a chaos of random happenings; it is all part of God’s creation, operating according to his plan.

This realization changes the Christian’s attitude toward his fellow men. Faced with the fact that all men are his neighbors whom he is to love as himself, he accepts the need to be trustworthy, doing to others as he would have them do to him. He also recognizes that, since God in his grace still preserves and maintains in all men some vestiges of the divine image, men should trust one another, for only then can any form of society exist.

Yet true fellowship and mutual trust in the highest sense are possible only between those who together acknowledge and serve Jesus Christ as Saviour and Lord. As Paul pointed out to the Ephesians, Christ has broken down the dividing wall between Jew and Gentile; all partitions dividing those who are in Christ have fallen, for they are all one body in him (Acts 15:17 ff.; Eph. 2).

This should have very practical effects. Not only to fellow Christians but also to unbelievers, the Christian should manifest the love of Christ in his life and deeds. In so doing he may win some to Christ (1 Cor. 9:19 f.). But even if he does not, his attitudes and his actions will have a healing effect on human relations. By his influence he will be a peace-maker, a true sign that he is a child of God (Matt. 5:9).

He must go beyond merely manifesting an attitude, however. As a citizen, an employee or an employer, a son or a daughter, a husband or a wife, the Christian should work for reconciliation, for “peace on earth to men of good will.” As the salt of the earth, Christians should work to overcome all causes of discrimination and to help all those in need. The Christian, because of the love of Christ in his heart, should be the Good Samaritan of the world (1 Cor. 13).

The Christian never reaches sinlessness in this life. He still has attached to him the graveclothes of his old nature with its egotism, selfishness, pride, and rebelliousness. Constantly faced with temptation, he repeatedly disobeys and comes short of God’s perfection. The result is continual conflict with God. Consequently his reconciliation to God, while in principle complete in Christ, is never fully achieved; he must continually repent of his sins and seek anew God’s forgiveness.

The imperfection of the Christian’s life leads not only to transgression of the divine law of holiness but also to conflict with other Christians. Conflicts appeared among Christ’s disciples while he was on earth and among his followers after his ascension, and, as most of us know well, they have continued in the Church down to the present. Bitter quarrels often break out in churches and other Christian groups because of Christions’ egotism, pride, greed, and fear. Yet Christians should always strive for reconciliation with one another, for they are members of one family. Harmonious relations will require confession and repentance toward each other, steps that are very difficult for our stubborn hearts. With the help of the Spirit and the grace of God, and with constant prayerful attention to maintaining a loving attitude, conflicts can be reduced and reconciliation increased.

At the same time Christians must live in a world that rebels against Christ’s universal lordship. However successfully they manifest the love of God to man, the world will rarely appreciate their effort. To the unbeliever Christ is simply a usurper seeking to take over a world that rightfully belongs to man. Still, by the influence of their words and lives, Christians may stimulate a certain amount of external reconciliation between man and man, yet at any time the rebel world’s suppressed hostility and aggressiveness, sometimes sparked by Christian boldness and sometimes by Christian’s lack of tact, may break forth in opposition to—even persecution of—those who represent Christ and his rule in this world.

The outcome is constant, unresolvable conflict between the people of the Kingdom and those who reject Christ’s lordship. While many Christians, stressing Christ’s office as the Prince of Peace, insist that whenever the Gospel is preached peace will result, this has not proved to be so. Although those who believe will find peace with God that changes their attitude toward others, Christ promised his people not peace but tribulation in this world (John 15:18 ff.; 16:33). Furthermore, he told his disciples he had come to bring not peace but a sword that would divide even families. Therefore, throughout the whole of history the Gospel has brought both reconciliation and conflict (2 Cor. 2:16; 1 John 2:15 ff.; 3:1).

This ambivalence will be resolved only at the end of history, at the final reconciliation when every tongue shall confess that Christ is Lord, and the restored creation will be submitted unto the Father, that God may be all in all (Phil. 2:10; 1 Cor. 15:24). And yet the Scriptures never speak as though this means that all men will be accepted by God. The rebels will be cast into outer darkness—the darkness of knowing their own stupidity and futile rebelliousness. Though forced to acknowledge Christ as Lord, they will be separated from him forever.

Those who have known and accepted his gracious reconciliation, on the other hand, will experience its fullness in the completeness of God’s eternal grace. And all creation, restored and healed, will show forth the glory of the Triune God. Reconciliation will finally have won out over conflict.

W. Stanford Reid is professor of history at Wellington College, University of Guelph, Ontario. He received the Th.M. degree from Westminster Theological Seminary and the Ph.D. from the University of Pennsylvania.

Senator Mark Hatfield of Oregon said to the theological students at Princeton: “The prophetic voice which the church is called to speak in our age is more likely to be heard and followed by those in political power when it is spoken by those who, in committed pastoral relationships, have shown their genuine concern and love.” It is a false dichotomy that pits the prophetic role of concern for poverty, war, and social injustice against the pastoral function of concern for individual spiritual maturation. What is needed is a balance between the two.

Many ministers are struggling with this problem of how to keep the prophetic function and the pastoral function in creative tension. Like so many of our problems, this one is not new. At a time when historians are reexamining the American Revolution in anticipation of the two-hundredth anniversary of our national independence, we might be able to learn about a balanced ministry from a colonial pastor who resolved the conflict between the prophetic and pastoral roles.

John Witherspoon wore three hats: president of the College of New Jersey (later renamed Princeton University), Presbyterian clergyman, and member of the Continental Congress. After a distinguished career as a pastor in the Church of Scotland, he was called in 1768 to head the struggling College of New Jersey. At that point he could not have foreseen the extent to which he would become caught up in the fight for American independence, but he observed from the start that there was a contagious air of freedom in the New World environment.

In 1774 John Adams passed through Princeton on his way to the Continental Congress, which was meeting in Philadelphia, and he visited Witherspoon. Adams marveled at the college president’s grasp of political matters and recorded in his diary: “Dr. Witherspoon enters with great spirit into the American cause. He seems as hearty a friend as any of the natives, an animated Son of Liberty.”

The political life-style that Witherspoon eventually adopted has some noteworthy features. First of all, Witherspoon was determined to approach his political responsibilities with intellectual integrity. He was a scholar accustomed to debating both in church and in academic life the fine points of theology, philosophy, and history, and he thought it only natural to do considerable research before claiming to be a spokesman for American liberty. Also, he had always respected the British monarchy and valued highly the established institutions of society. He could not lightly toss aside this treasured heritage.

Tremendous pressure was exerted upon him to become more active in political affairs, but he would not be rushed. He insisted on gaining a thorough knowledge of the issues. During the critical months of May, June, and July, 1776, when tensions were mounting in the colonies, he wrote a series of scholarly essays in the Pennsylvania Magazine. Realizing that he would be criticized for his extensive literary venture at a time when others were calling for immediate action on the battlefront, he explained why there was need for scholars as well as soldiers. In his first article, published in the May issue, he contended: “I am much mistaken if the time is not just at hand, when there shall be greater need than ever in America, for the most accurate discussion of the principles of society, the rights of nations, and the policy of states; all which shall have a place in the subsequent numbers of this paper.”

Before engaging in political action, he carefully, almost tediously, formulated his intellectual convictions, even at the risk of seeming pedantic. The result was that when emotions were at fever pitch, his political position was marked by a keen perception of history, a reasoned defense of revolutionary principles, and an indefatigable moral earnestness derived from his staunch Calvinism and his Scottish common-sense academic heritage.

A second characteristic of Witherspoon’s approach to political matters was his own kind of pragmatic activism. Once he had done his homework, he was ready to take part in the leadership of the patriot cause and urged others to do the same. During the years immediately before the Revolutionary War, the Princeton commencement orations often had political themes, and the college became a virtual training base for future political leaders. A resident of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who attended a commencement service in Princeton as early as 1772 was shocked at the ease with which young students were resolving the most complex problems, and he complained: “I could almost have persuaded myself that I was within a circle of vociferous politicians at Will’s coffeehouse, instead of being surrounded with the meek disciples of wisdom, in the calm shades of economic retirement.”

In June of 1776, Witherspoon responded to a call to become directly engaged in politics: he was appointed a member of the New Jersey delegation to the Continental Congress. Arriving in Philadelphia, late in June, Witherspoon participated in the closing debate on the proposed Declaration of Independence. He listened intently to the arguments and suggested a few revisions. He called for deletion of the phrase “Scotch and foreign mercenaries,” which he felt cast aspersions on the overwhelming majority of patriotic Scots in America. The phrase was omitted in Thomas Jefferson’s final draft, which had been revised by the Congress. Witherspoon, the only clergyman to sign the Declaration of Independence, wholeheartedly endorsed it and staked his reputation and life upon the validity of these principles of political liberty.

From June, 1776, to November, 1782, Witherspoon served regularly in the Congress except during 1780, when he asked for a leave of absence to tend to pressing duties at the college. During his long period of service he was active in debate and in policy-making and sat on several key committees, including the Finance Committee, the Foreign Affairs Committee, and the Board of War. His somewhat sheltered background as a clergyman and college president did not deter him from working alongside businessmen, plantation owners, and lawyers to resolve the knotty problems—economic, social and political—that came before the Congress.

A third characteristic of Witherspoon’s political participation was an unmistakable confidence in the future. Although at the outset of the war there was an exhilarating spirit of optimism, the morale of the people sank perilously low as the war dragged on. General Washington was forced to retreat from place to place in order to conserve his limited resources in men and equipment. The economic situation gradually deteriorated. Victory was never a certainty. The solid contribution of such men as Thomas Paine, William Livingstone, and John Witherspoon in counteracting the colonists’ sagging morale has not always been fully appreciated; through their prolific writings they were able to inject a note of confidence and optimism that ultimately was to pay rich rewards.

As a congressman Witherspoon was in the midst of the decision-making process. His specific assignments, for example as a member of the Board of War, gave him opportunities to observe the military condition in the field. These activities also provided him with a basis for neutralizing the effect of Tory propaganda and instilling in the colonists a reason for believing that their cause would prevail. As a clergyman he spoke the religious language of a sizable portion of the population, many of whom were Calvinist in persuasion whether they were Dutch Reformed, German Reformed, Baptist, Congregationalist, or Presbyterian. Witherspoon was especially effective in marshalling the considerable strength of the Scots in America and was determined that if he had anything to do with it, all Scots would support the patriotic side.

Furthermore, he could see beyond the immediate prosecution of the war, important as that was, to the equally crucial task of providing an adequate foundation for building a strong nation. While the war was still in progress he called for a sound economy based on hard money, a centralized government with the power of taxation, and a forward-looking foreign policy. He showed enormous confidence in the potential of America, citing her rich physical resources, her expanding population, and above all her spirit of individual freedom.

A fourth characteristic of Witherspoon’s political life was his profound sense of his calling as a Christian minister. Few of his political colleagues could ignore the fact that he was a minister of the Gospel. Witherspoon usually wore his tabs and Geneva gown at the meetings of the Congress, but the real impact of his moral presence was associated not with his clerical attire but with his reputation as a leading religious spokesman in the colonies.

Since he was able to communicate his thoughts in clear and cogent language, Witherspoon was asked several times to draft proclamations for special fast days and thanksgiving days authorized by the Congress. In these official documents his usual theme was the certainty of God’s providence guiding the American cause. He was firmly convinced of this, and he sought to transmit this conviction to those who assembled for the official days of national prayer. From our perspective of almost two centuries later and in the light of several more catastrophic wars, we would want to add some reservations to Witherspoon’s clear-cut and detailed interpretation of the workings of providence in the midst of the American Revolution, but we must not underestimate the positive effect his moral leadership had upon the religious rank and file in the colonies. Though they might experience reverses and defeats, Witherspoon assured them that any setback was temporary. Ultimately God would bring victory because their cause was just.

No matter how frenetic the pace of political affairs became, he refused to forget his calling as a minister. When the war was over and he was convinced that his political service was completed, he returned to his prime responsibilities as college president, pastor at the Princeton chapel, and a leader in organizing a national denominational structure for Presbyterians.

These four characteristics of Witherspoon’s political life are strikingly pertinent to the minister who today is to steer his way between the Scylla of inane quietism and the Charybdis of irresponsible radicalism.

Intellectual integrity is still absolutely essential for the minister who wishes to influence the body politic. Too many men and women enter the world of politics without doing their homework. Idealistic phrases and simplistic proposals are poor substitutes for tough intellectual analysis of problems.

Pragmatic activism is needed today more than ever before in the work of the ministry. After one has assiduously studied the issues at hand, the time comes for some form of specific political action. One minister may act as a catalyst to induce the laity to become more politically involved. A second minister may prefer to organize pilot projects that will encourage business and government with their greater resources to follow his lead. A third may choose to run for an office, as, for instance, on a school board.

Confidence in the future is a valuable quality for any minister to have, but especially for the one who is in politics. Our nation has already suffered enough from the divisive tactics of “unloving critics and uncritical lovers.” It needs a kind of “theology and hope” that will build on the best in our heritage and at the same time be open toward renewal of all the institutions of society.

And finally, the clear sense of vocation as a minister is always needed. Donald G. Miller, in stressing the point that theological education should remain true to its historic task of shedding theological light on society, recalls Henry Van Dyke’s story entitled “The Keeper of the Light.” When the lighthouse keeper died, his young daughter assumed the responsibility. One day a crisis developed: the supply boat scheduled to bring food to the isolated village was delayed. In desperation the people tried to get the oil in the lighthouse to use for food. The girl courageously locked herself in the lighthouse and with her father’s gun defended the precious oil. Eventually the food and supplies arrived. If the girl had not preserved the oil to keep the light burning, the boat could not have found its way to the village, and all would have died.

It is not enough for the minister to be busily engaged in humanitarian projects in the world; he must also use the light of his theological resources to interpret the contemporary scene. How tragic if the minister ignores or dissipates the really distinctive contribution he has to offer to the problem-stricken world.

As Witherspoon did, the Christian minister should weave his prophetic and pastoral roles together into one ministry of reconciliation.

Richard A. Hasler is pastor of the United Presbyterian Church in Hornell, New York. He has the B.D. from Princeton Seminary, M.A. from the University of Pennsylvania, and Ph.D. from Hartford Seminary Foundation.

“If you plan to read only one book this year, this is probably the one you should choose.” With this recommendation the New York Times pointed up the importance of Beyond Freedom and Dignity by B. F. Skinner, behavioristic scientist at Harvard. If this book is that significant, surely Christians should give attention to it.

Let me begin with two questions. Why did Dr. Skinner write this book? Answer: Skinner believes that only through radical application of behavioristic science, such as what he advocates, can mankind survive. What is his thesis? Answer: If society will apply to human behavior the scientific ingenuity that has proved successful in physics and biology, it can create the sort of utopia he has vividly pictured in his fictional Walden Two.

Skinner begins with the raw assumption that to approximate such a utopia will require planned control of the behavior of society and its components. This control must be based upon principles of behavioristic conditioning such as have already been applied in Pavlov’s experiments with dogs and in Skinner’s own experiments with pigeons. (He has conditioned them to play ping pong!) The control must be universal; no person or event may be exempt.

For several centuries, thoughtful men have believed that the best possible structure of human living rests solidly upon those principles that give the greatest support to man’s freedom and dignity. But Skinner believes those days are gone forever. “We have gone beyond freedom and dignity,” he says. He admits that in times past the concept of freedom played a vital role in men’s successful efforts to overthrow tyrants who had denied to them certain basic rights. But this concept of freedom and dignity that formerly prevailed now threatens twentieth-century man’s future, he says. He is convinced that no individual or nation can long survive without “controls” of some dynamic and conditioning character. The only outcome of unbridled permissiveness is chaos, anarchy, and destruction.

There is much truth in these observations. What makes Skinner’s scheme so revolutionary is his affirmation that these “controls” are found not within man himself but wholly in his environment; he flatly declares that all behavior is determined not from within but from without. Still more explosive is his judgment that there is nothing wrong, emotionally or morally, with people who behave badly. He writes: “They [young people] behave as they do, not because they are neurotic or because they feel alienated, but because of defective social environments in homes, schools, factories, and elsewhere” (Beyond Freedom and Dignity, Knopf, 1971, p. 15; further quotations in this essay are from the same book unless otherwise identified).

“Mistakenly,” says Skinner, “we believe that man initiates, originates and creates, and in doing so he remains, as he was for the Greeks, divine. We say that he is autonomous” (p. 14). But Skinner says autonomy is a myth. Belief in an “inner man” is a superstition that originated, like belief in God, in man’s inability to understand his world.

What then is man? From the behavioristic standpoint, man is “a person who is a member of a species shaped by evolutionary contingencies of survival, displaying behavioral processes which bring him under the control of the environment in which he lives” (p. 211). This view of man provokes one of Skinner’s most ambiguous affirmations: “The direction of the controlling relation is reversed: a person does not act upon the world, the world acts upon him” (p. 211). So! It is not a good man or a bad man that makes a good or bad environment—the reverse is true! But consider these words found near the end of his book: “While man is indeed controlled by his environment, we must remember that it is an environment largely of his own making” (p. 215). Even more puzzling is this: “We have not yet seen what man can make of man.” It seems to me that if the professor were consistent, that sentence would read: We have yet to see what the environment can make of man.

At this point the inevitable question is: Who is to design and direct the behavior-controlled society? Will it be the environment? Let another social scientist, Aldous Huxley, reply:

When a piece of work gets done in the world, who actually does it?… Certainly not the social environment; for a group is not an organism, but only a blind unconscious organization. Everything that is done within the society is done by individuals.… No amount of scientific explanation, however comprehensive, can explain away the self-evident facts [Brave New World Revisited, p. 100].

And of course, Skinner has his chosen leaders as his controllers. Plato had his “philosopher-kings.” H. G. Wells had his “samarai.” Skinner has his behavioristic scientists and technicians, always portrayed as a “noble breed.” But are these persons made of other stuff than ordinary men? Are they something immune from pride and corruption?

Skinner admits that the control can be in the hands of either saints or villains. (The heading of the Times’s review of the book is startling: “Skinner’s Utopia: Panacea or Path to Hell”!) Even in Skinner’s eyes, these controllers are not so saintly as to preclude a suspicion that even they will have to be controlled. How does he handle this one? Quite readily: “The controller must be a member of the group he controls” (p. 172). So the controller controls the controlled, but, to make sure he does not over-control the controlled, the controlled control the controller! Feel better now?

The professor is not blind to the fact that in his utopia there would be conflicts of interest. But whose interest would finally prevail? Would there be no opposition party? What would happen if the dissidents shouted down “the conditioning reinforcements” in riotous protest?

And then there is the most crucial of all questions: Would such a society guarantee to man his legitimate creaturely freedom? Skinner has another ready answer: “The individual will find his own destiny fulfilled by cooperating freely with the purposes of society.” Do we not hear echoes of Nazism and Communism here? The existential psychoanalyst Rollo May thinks Skinner is a totalitarian without fully knowing it. He comments: “I have never found any place in Skinner’s system for the rebel, yet the capacity to rebel is of the essence in a constructive society” (Time, Sept. 21, 1971, p. 52).

But what about the future? Who of us is not haunted, as is the professor, by the horrendous prospect of the suicide of the race? To imply that such a crime could be charged to some impersonal and neutral entity called “the environment” would be to abolish any concept of moral reality within the structure of the universe. And that is why we Christians reject all utopian schemes, whether scientific or romantic, that are founded upon a false view of man.

Many scientists, psychiatrists, and theologians vigorously oppose Skinner’s view of man. The well-known psychologist Michael Beldock wrote perceptively:

Man’s problems are all rooted in that “inner man” on whose psychological nature the fate of all of us hangs like a fine platinum thread. It has not changed very much, if at all. Man has changed [outwardly], having added to his natural biological capacities, special devices for increased speed and strength, and for the relative control of nature, and for the conquering of disease. But the “inner man” still struggles with the same issues: greed, jealousy, anger, and how to live with one another and like it. It is hardly wise to assume that because man has been partly successful in remaking his physical environment, the same set of skills will be sufficient to control his inner psychological makeup [Psychiatry and Social Science, Dec., 1971, p. 18].

The writings of Bertrand Russell, too, undermine Skinner’s whole structure. In speaking of the aspirations of the scientific community to bring about a “better world” this distinguished philosopher and scientist asks a stubborn question: “What stands in our way?” He answers: “It is not physical or technical obstacles, but only the evil passions in human minds” (The Impact of Science on Society). Now we have it. Our problem is not primarily an evil environment; it is evil men. John wrote of Jesus: “He knew what was in man” (John 2:25). Jesus knew what the essential man is. He knew that the core of human personality is in the heart center; he knew that heart center is spirit; and he knew that out of that spirit are the issues of life. He never looked upon man as only a body, or as a body with a spirit. He always looked upon him as a spirit with a body. Nor did he believe that the body is inherently evil. He knew that when man behaves badly, it is not because any part of his physical being is bad in and of itself, but because, as Jesus said, there is within man an unclean spirit, out of which emerge “evil thoughts, fornications, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, evil, slander, pride, foolishness.” And then Jesus pronounced one of his “universals” that all history confirms: “All these evil things come from within, and they defile a man” (Mark 7:21–23). Christ did not spend his time and energy dealing principally with externals in his efforts to help broken humanity. It is true, blessedly true, that he healed and fed people, but the context clearly indicates that he was interested more in their hearts than in their bodies. He ministered to them both spiritually and physically, but there was no question in his mind as to which was of primary importance. Blessed is the Church when it follows in his steps.

I have no quarrel with Professor Skinner about the need for a changed environment. Nor do I deny that both men and the environment need to be under some kind of control. Never in history has this not been true. My basic difference lies in the fact that Skinner believes man is best controlled from without, by manipulation, whereas Christians believe that man is best controlled from within, by motivation.

The Christian Gospel most surely calls for obedience on man’s part, which indubitably implies that the Christian is under some form of control; but by no means does this control rob him of that creaturely freedom and dignity which are legitimately his as gifts from the divine Creator. He accepts this control of his own free will. This voluntary assumption of an inner control over his life, thoughts, and actions is a result of a personal, uninhibited choice to open his sovereign consciousness—his “holy of holies”—and invite in Another Person. And who is this Person? None other than the sovereign God in the person of Jesus, the Christ, the Son of the Living God, the only One who has the right to exercise ultimate control over his creatures.

Paul of Tarsus had made this choice. What was his motive for doing so? “He loved me, and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20). Of what love does Paul speak? It was not man’s love for himself (the highest level recognized by philosophers of the “Age of Reason”), nor was it his love for his fellow man (so persistently advocated by secularists and religious humanists of our times), nor was it man’s love for God as admonished in the First Commandment. Rather, it was that love of which John writes: “In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the expiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10). This was the dominant and all-consuming passion that motivated Paul, the greatest of all Christians. It was an experimental conviction with him, for when he tries to explain to the Corinthians why he so loved them, and why he would “most gladly spend and be spent” in their behalf, his simple answer, in Second Corinthians 5:14, was, “The love of Christ controls me.” Now we have it—the ultimate control! The ultimate control based upon the ultimate motive! And that motive is God’s love for man in and through Christ, the Crucified and Risen One.

Let me give two illustrations of how this “divine control” functions on two levels, the individual and the societal. I quote from an article on the “Jesus movement” published in U. S. News and World Report, March 20, 1972:

Today, at a time when B. F. Skinner and other behavioral psychologists proclaim the coming of the “manipulated man”—responsive by conditioned reflex to the requirements of external society and its rulers—the “Jesus people” are reasserting the validity and force of inner experience in shaping human lives. In recent years, America’s young have tried to find themselves through drugs, political violence and easy morality. Now they are turning to Christianity in its oldest form—still looking for answers to the ultimate questions: Who am I? What is the order of things? Where do I belong?

In a survey of Jesus people made in southern California and published in Society, one finds these items: 72 per cent of those listing their fathers’ occupations indicated a-white-collar background, mostly upper and middle class; 62 per cent of those over eighteen, and 44 per cent of those under that age, reported drug usage prior to conversion—nearly always more than incidental; 62 per cent said they had engaged in pre-marital sex before conversion; fewer than 5 per cent continued to do so afterwards. One does not have to approve all phases of this movement to recognize that many of these young people have undergone a genuine change from within that expresses itself outwardly in a changed environment.

My second illustration points up the fact that what takes place on the individual level can also take place on a much broader scale in society. The Cambridge Modern History sums up the eighteenth century in England as a time of “expiring hopes.” England seemed on the brink of its own “Bath of Blood,” like that into which France was plunged; but then came the Evangelical Awakening under the leadership particularly of John Wesley. The tide turned.

J. Wesley Bready speaks of this awakening as “the watershed of Anglo-Saxon history,” for this movement

became the spiritual Magna Charta of the common people of England.… This peerless revival caused the then prodigal Anglo-Saxon people to find its soul; and having found its soul, it created an epic era of freedom and social reform.… The glorious heritage of liberty and social reform bequeathed to the modern Anglo-Saxon and American peoples has been fed at many springs; but the mighty river which carried those blessings far and wide is none other than the Evangelical Revival of “vital practical Christianity”—a revival which mediated the Gospel’s inspiration and ethic not only to the individual but to the home, the factory, the market place and the seats of learning and government [Eighteenth Century England: This Freedom—Whence?, preface, XVI].

Dr. Bready concludes his remarkable study of Wesley and Whitefield and their leadership in this awakening, both in England and in America, with a challenging insight to which all social reformers, both Christian and secular, should give serious heed:

The early leaders were pre-eminently ambassadors of Christ who had experienced in their own lives the transforming power of the Gospel, and though not indifferent to social and political affairs, they felt the “call” to preach a Gospel which transforms men rather than to agitate for social reconstruction. Indeed had Wesley and Whitefield spent their careers as social reformers they would have lived disillusioned, and died heartbroken men. From their efforts, however, emerged the most profound political and social achievements, thus illustrating history’s central truth: that the changing of the hearts of men is ever the surest road toward lifting the level of human society.

Howard W. Ferrin is chancellor emeritus of Barrington College in Barrington, Rhode Island, which he served as president from 1925 to 1965. He has written several books, including “The Riddle of the Middle East.”