Theology

Bible Text of the Month: Romans 6:23

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord (Romans 6:23).

The distribution of rewards and punishments in the day of judgment will be in perfect agreement with the works of men; the righteous will be exalted to happiness; the wicked be doomed to misery. The Gospel makes no difference with respect to this: it provides relief for the penitent, but rather aggravates than removes the condemnation of the impenitent. But it opens to us an important fact: namely, that the punishment of the ungodly is the proper fruit and deserved recompence of their own works: whereas the reward bestowed upon the godly is a free unmerited gift of God for Christ’s sake.—CHARLES SIMEON.

Wages Of Sin

While the doctrine of eternal happiness is generally admitted, the eternity of future punishment is doubted by many. The declarations, however, of the Holy Scriptures respecting both are equally explicit. Concerning each of them the very same expressions are used. Owing to the hardness of their hearts, men are insensible to the great evil of sin. Hence the threatenings of future punishment, shock all their prejudices, and seem to them unjust, and such as never can be realized.—ROBERT HALDANE.

Sin is personified as man’s natural master (vv. 12, 14, 22), and he is represented as paying his subjects with death. This term, according to the apostle, does not seem to denote the annihilation of the sinner. To pay anyone is not to put him out of existence; it is rather to make him feel the painful consequences of his sin, to make him reap in the form of corruption what he has sown in the form of sin.—F. GODET.

The reason why death is the result of sin is, that sin deserves death. Death is due to it in justice. There is the same obligation in justice, that sin should be followed by death, as that the labourer should receive his wages. As it would be unjust, and therefore wrong, to defraud the labourer of his stipulated reward, so it would be unjust to allow sin to go unpunished. Those, therefore, who hope for pardon without an atonement, hope that God will in the end prove unjust.—CHARLES HODGE.

The punishment of that death which was the threatened penalty of the first transgression, will, according to Scripture, consist in the pains both of privation and suffering. Its subjects will not only be bereaved of all that is good, they will also be overwhelmed with all that is terrible. As the chief good of the creature is the enjoyment of the love of God, how great must be the punishment of being deprived of the sense of His love, and oppressed with the consciousness of His hatred!—ROBERT HALDANE.

Gift Of Eternal Life

Eternal life contains a great deal more than the two words, life plus eternity. Eternal life is not merely endless existence. It means endless life in its highest possible state of existence. It means that all that is piecemeal and temporary has passed away forever. It means that the absolutely perfect has come, that life has reached its highest altitude. It means that all the fulness and richness that this human vessel can receive of the goodness of God has been made ours.—R. E. GOLLADAY.

Eternal life comprehends all the blessings of the covenant of grace. The Scriptures make mention of it as the great end of the incarnation and sufferings of Christ.… The enjoyment of it is not confined to the future state; it commences in this world, when the believer not only obtains a title to immortal happiness, but is illuminated, sanctified, and comforted by the Spirit of Grace, and it will be perfected in the life to come.—JOHN DICK.

Llfe eternal—of which, all that we can say is but stammering, and all our knowledge and conceiting of it but ignorance, in regard of what it is: yet, so much we know or may know of it, as, if we knew aright, would certainly draw us more into desires and pursuit of it. The very name of life is sweet.… So happy, that there shall not be the smallest drop of any evil or bitterness in it, pure unmixed bliss; nothing present in it that is displeasing, nor anything wanting that is delightful; and everlasting, that when millions of years (if there were any such reckoning there) are rolled about, it shall be as far from ending as at the first.—BISHOP ROBERT LEIGHTON.

Of the nature of that glory of which the people of God shall be put in possession in the day of their redemption, we cannot form a clear and distinct idea.… Their blessedness will consist in a knowledge of God and His mysteries, a full and exquisite sense of His love, ineffable consolation, profound tranquillity of soul, a perfect concord and harmony of the soul with the body, and with all the powers of the soul among themselves; in one word, in an assemblage of all sorts of blessings.—ROBERT HALDANE.

Through Jesus Christ

Christ is the foundation of all spiritual life that is in us. He is the second Adam that conveyeth all that is spiritually good. “Because I live, you shall live also” (John 14:19). “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it abundantly” (John 10:10). Christ came that we might have life, and that we might have abundance of life preserved for us, such abundance as he enjoyeth himself in the heavens.—RICHARD SIBBES.

Christ, God-man, Mediator, is the life, that eternal life, in respect of his threefold offices of king, priest, and prophet. As prophet, he is the life by way of revelation, discovering this eternal life to us; as priest, by way of impetration, procuring this eternal life for us; as king, by way of collation, conferring this eternal life on us. And as the fulness of water is dispensed by the sea to the earth, and the fulness of light is communicated by the sun to the air; so the fulness of grace and glory, of life, even eternal life, is conveyed by Christ to his church.—NATHANAEL HARDY.

Heaven is procurred, prepared, taken possession of, and retained, by means of the atonement. The blood of the covenant constitutes the title to its possession. The heavenly things themselves are purified with better sacrifices, than those by which the patterns of things in the heavens were purified. We have boldness to enter into the holiest of all only by the blood of Christ, and to the Lamb in the midst of the throne are the redeemed indebted for the permanency of their glory and bliss. Those immortal honors, those glorious hopes, those perennial enjoyments, which are imaged by crowns of glory, palms of victory, harps of gold, and rivers of life, have all their meritorious source in the cross.—WILLIAM SYMINGTON.

The Lord’s design is that His life may reappear anew in his people or be reproduced in them; and that there may be such a symphony, so to speak, that his people shall promote on earth the great object for which he lives in glory. The life of love and active service which he lived on earth is to be renewed and reproduced in all his people. And when we inquire how this is attained, we find that the tide of resurrection life flows into his people, in proportion as they keep before them His abasement, atoning death, and resurrection as the great themes of faith and the great springs of action.—GEORGE SMEATON.

If the greatest love hath been manifested in giving Christ to the world, then it follows that the greatest evil and wickedness is manifested in despising, slighting, and rejecting Christ. It is sad to abuse the love of God manifested in the least gift of providence; but to slight the richest displays of it, even that peerless gift, wherein God commends his love in the most astonishing manner, this is sin beyond description. Blush, O heavens, and be astonished, O earth; yea, be ye horribly afraid! No guilt like this.—JOHN FLAVEL.

Books

Book Briefs: June 10, 1957

Expository Stimulant

The New International Commentary on the New Testament. Ned B. Stonehouse, General Editor. Eerdmans, Grand Rapids. 6 volumes in print of the 17-volume set. $3.50 to $6.00 each.

In 1946 Eerdmans Publishing Company announced its proposed 17-volume commentary entitled The New International Commentary on the New Testament. Scholars from Europe, South Africa and America were engaged to offer their contributions to this project. Dr. Ned B. Stonehouse, the worthy successor to J. Gresham Machen in the chair of New Testament in Westminster Theological Seminary, Philadelphia, was chosen as General Editor.

It is both the desire of the publisher and the ambition of the General Editor that these works he abreast of modern scholarship in every phase which touches the craft of the exegete and interpreter of Scripture. More than noticeable is also the strong feeling that these biblical reference works ought to be slanted mainly to the usefulness of the man in the pulpit.

But as essential as both of these characteristics are, they are but secondary to the supreme devotion of all parties involved in the project; that is, to ever remain loyal to the Scriptures—the Word of God written, tapping every resource possible in the attempt to reveal the original intent of God’s written revelation.

In view of the first six volumes published in this set, it is apparent that the commentators and the General Editor contend that the realization of this goal will best serve the serious work of the Christian church.

Even though there is a solid agreement among the contributors in their acceptance of a strong theory on the inspiration of Scripture, and an unanimity of thought in their acceptance of the sovereignty of God and the responsibility of man as compromising their basic theological structure, each scholar reveals himself as an independent thinker and in no way shies away from textual, historical and doctrinal problems.

Occasionally, to be sure, there is a point where the author fails to do full justice to a knotty problem or glides quickly over some chafing text. An example of a rather brief and slightly dogmatic treatment is Grosheide’s comment on 1 Corinthians 7:14. The text reads, “For the unbelieving husband is sanctified in the believing wife and the unbelieving wife is sanctified in the believing brother, else were your children unclean; but now are they holy.” Rather than face the several problems involved in this text in the manner of Meyer, Alford and others, Grosheide works quickly to his own conclusions. Capping his remarks on the last phrase, “sanctified in Christ Jesus,” is his rather axiomatic statement, “This refers to the life within the covenant and to the right to baptism, hut does not imply that each of those holy children will go to heaven” (cf. Romans 11:13 f.).

Another example of a rather hasty treatment is found in Jac. J. Muller’s work, The Epistles of Paul to the Philippians and to Philemon. The biblical text reads, “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue and if there be any praise, think on these things” (Phil. 4:8). Less than ten full lines are used to expose the truth of this salient verse.

Preachers attempting to bring to their people an exposition of this remarkable, homiletically-arranged verse will need more than a few suggestive synonyms for the virtues mentioned in the text. They will need to know something of the relationship which exists between the things honorable and the things just, things pure and things lovely and whether or not the order in which Paul records these virtues is of any consequence. They will also be concerned over the force intended in logizesthe (think). These considerations are the ingredients with which soul-feeding sermons are made. Besides the biblical text itself, commentaries are supposed to be the chief source of supply.

For the most part, the commentators in this series use a semi-technical style which is arranged in a similar semi-technical page format. The main copy includes a commentary on the text, cross references, related historical material and, in some instances, references to other source books which augment the particular discussions. The bulk of references to other sources, however, plus the technical discussions on the original language level are found in the footnotes. This arrangement allows for a wide and varied readership, the main copy providing the English reader with the burden of the argument, while the student able to use Greek and Hebrew has considerably more exegetical content at his disposal. Naturally, this being a New Testament commentary, a working knowledge of the Hebrew language in the line of scholarly equipment is not to be compared to that of the Greek. However, the references to Hebrew words and ideas are not infrequent, especially in Bruce’s work on the Acts. Aknowledge of these two languages, plus that of Latin, German and Dutch, would assure a full understanding of these suggestive footnotes.

Of the six volumes now at hand, Bruce’s work on the book of Acts carries the torch of thorough research in the area of footnote enclosures. Geldenhuys’ work on Luke insofar as footnotes are concerned does not reach the standard attained by Bruce; it is, nevertheless, a work of some stature. Even though Geldenhuys offers some pertinent remarks on special subjects such as demon possession, fasting and like topics and acquaints his readers with portions of S. Greydanus’ Het Heilig Evangelic naar de Beschryning van Lukas, Plummer’s Gospel According to St. Luke, Strack and Billerbeck’s Das Evangelium nach Lukas and Zahn’s Einleitung in das Neue Testament, the body of the text and the footnotes are something less than classic in the field of Lukan research.

In the areas of textual criticism and introductory and historical references, Bruce’s contribution far excels those evidenced in the other five volumes. In the light of this footnote material alone, the Book of Acts is easily one of the worthiest commentaries to have rolled from the evangelical press within recent years.

Although none of the other volumes printed thus far equals the scholarly product produced by F. F. Bruce, each of the other entries is academically acceptable and includes some points of excellence. Jac. J. Muller’s Philippians offers about as fine a discussion in digest form on the Kenotic Theory as can be found. After pointing out flaws in the interpretations of Calvin, Augustine and others, Muller shows how the use of the aorist participle which denotes simultaneous action manifestly states that Christ emptied himself by taking on the form of a servant. Neither the preacher nor the professorial scholar needs more on this subject than that which Muller presents in this place.

Among the points of commendation revealed in the Commentary on the Epistles of James and John by Alexander Ross, is the thick supply of cross-reference material. A close examination of these references shows a keen awareness of not only the parallel passages and related verses, but a fine appreciation of contexts out of which these texts are culled. Readily noticed also in Ross’ work is his devotional passion. Especially is this conspicuous in his treatment of John’s First Epistle.

As pointed out in the Foreword by Editor Stonehouse, one of F. W. Grosheide’s more telling virtues in his commentary on First Corinthians is his attempt to show the main thread of thought which runs through the entire letter. To Grosheide, Paul’s thesis is that the Corinthian people had to be reminded in various ways and in strong but simple language that God’s redeemed ought to be a humble, God-fearing, neighbor-loving and serving people. After due allowance has been granted for “main-theme enthusiasm,” the contribution set forth here by Grosheide is of considerable worth and should he of some real value to the man in the pulpit.

The Epistle of Paul to the Churches of Galatia by Herman N. Ridderbos, in some ways failing to meet the exegetes’ expectations, is a highly serviceable work. Perhaps the most glaring deficiency is the omission of contrasting views. A case in point already brought to the Christian public’s attention in other reviews is his one-page commentary on Galatians 3:20—one of the most stubborn problems in New Testament interpretation. The biblical text reads, “Now a mediator is not of one, but God is one.” Out of a few hundred interpretations offered during the span of Christian history, Ridderbos enlightens his readers on just two of these suggested interpretations. This commentary, however, as is true of the others, has many commendable features. If one of these features is to be singled out, it ought to be his discreet handling of the alleged contradictions which supposedly exist between the parallel texts of Acts and Galatians. Especially fine are his comments on the harmony of Galatians 2:1–10 and Acts 15.

In the light of what has been pointed out in this brief survey-review, it is apparent that each of these commentaries is a judicious work which ought to be something of an expository stimulant for the sermon-maker and ultimately a source of spiritual food for those who occupy the pew. Due basically to the conciseness of these volumes, they are judged as being something short of authoritative in the area of biblical reference works. Invariably the material circumscribed is of a high order, but not infrequently there is considerable room for expansion of thought and a fuller expression of existing interpretations. Yet, in spite of this defection, these theologically conservative commentaries stand among the very best biblical reference works coming from the evangelical press in our day. Students of the Scriptures who are serious in the things of Christ will be helped considerably with the constant use of this source material.

LLOYD A. KALLAND

Back To Sublime Truths

Doctrinal Preaching for Today, by Andrew W. Blackwood. Abingdon, New York, 1956. $3.00.

A long succession of able young men who came from Princeton Seminary to work with me as Assistant Ministers at the First Presbyterian Church, Pittsburgh, bore unanimous witness to the great help they had received from the instruction of Dr. Blackwood, then Professor of Homiletics at Princeton. An examination of the book by Dr. Blackwood, Doctrinal Preaching for Today, makes clear why those who sat under him at the Seminary valued the training they received.

Ministers who did not have the advantage of Dr. Blackwood’s instructions will find no little profit in this book; and other ministers who have been drawing their inspiration from such subjects as Ecumenicalism, United Nations and racial issues are finding that their wells have run dry, may be moved by a study of this book to turn back to the sublime truths of the Christian revelation and “with joy draw water out of the well of salvation.”

The great thing about doctrinal preaching is that it is not only for Today, but for Yesterday and Forever.

CLARENCE E. MACARTNEY

Conversation In Print

The Experiment of Faith, by Samuel M. Shoemaker, Harpers, New York. $1.50.

Among the writing ministers of the day, “Sam” Shoemaker must be rated as one of the most effectively articulate. Another Shoemaker book is the “expected” thing. Those who are familiar with his previous books will not look for a volume heavily weighted with scholarship or startlingly novel in its originality. They will look—without disappointment—for a kind of “conversation in print” on matters that are closely related to Christian experience and to the communication of Christian witness to others.

Something known as “The Pittsburgh Experiment” was called into being soon after the author became rector of Calvary Episcopal Church in “The Steel City” in 1953. This was a concrete venture in evangelism in which businessmen were challenged to Christian commitment in a way that would make their faith witness relevant to the problems of every-day living in a roaring industrial city such as Pittsburgh.

What happened to these men, many of whom are junior executives either in management or in labor, and what they in turn have caused to happen, by the grace of God, in the lives of others, will live for a long time in the annals of unconventional evangelism.

Starting with a “case history” that concerns an insurance manager, Dr. Shoemaker unfolds the story of what the Christian faith does when people are exposed to a virile and victorious expression of it, and when, being exposed, they respond to it. His knack of writing for the person who knows little or nothing of Christian theology was never put to better use than in the way he does it here. Take this from the first chapter as a sample: “Yet our first great need is not for a set of rules about how to be good; it is for something to bridge that yawning canyon between us and the God we dimly seem to remember but cannot entirely forget.”

The chapters on “How To Keep Going Spiritually” and “How To Win People To Christ” are never nebulous. They are kept close to the one-two-three of specific steps, the relevant practicalities on which laymen can get their hands. Some words both frank and wise are written in reference to the danger of over-simplifying and mechanizing the procedures by which Christians seek to bring others, one by one, to the realization of the new life in Christ.

Incidentally, Dr. Shoemaker brands as a species of “snobbishness” the attempt by a well-known New York theologian to discredit—at least so far as the New York scene is concerned—the ministry of Dr. Billy Graham.

Some readers will feel, justifiably, I think, that more might have been made of the place and power of Scripture in the ministry of soul-winning.

The final chapter, “How To Work For Christ Through Your Job,” blows like a refreshing breeze through the stuffiness and sterility of much of our thinking in evangelical circles with respect to this inescapable area of Christian responsibility. “I am convinced,” says Dr. Shoemaker, at the end, “that God enters the business scene in two ways: first, through converted men and women whose hearts he has touched and changed and who carry his Spirit with them at all times; and second, in human relationships that are different because he has become the Third Party to them.”

Here, in 64 pages, is a gripping description of how one converted person can, under God, reproduce his kind!

PAUL S. REES

Theology

Review of Current Religious Thought: June 10, 1957

Our modern world is truly one world. It is indivisible. More than anything else the missionary enterprise has driven home that fact. But our world is also a sadly divided world. Yet, what happens in the U.S.A. or Western Europe has its impact on folk everywhere. How strong are our spiritual defenses?

Mother’s Day is behind us. What of the American home? Kermit Eby, eminent social scientist, is alarmed about certain trends in our American economy that are a continuing threat to the home (Christian Living, April 1957). He writes on “Pressures on the Family.” What are they? He lists the following: 21½ million women working in shop and office, desertions of families by fathers rapidly increasing, mass-purchasing power financed by credit and debt, the blessing or bane of installment buying, loan companies charging from 6 to 14%—and the consequent strains on millions of families in America. Eby is convinced that the price we pay for our comforts is all too high. “We have produced an economy in which major satisfactions demand the extra earnings of the wife; as a consequence the American home is being radically changed—children are ‘farmed out’ or allowed to roam the streets.” But the pressures to keep up with the Jones’ continue. “The pressures are blatant and constant; and few of us there are who can resist; we believe our happiness to be intimately bound up with what we have or want.” Presently, Americans owe 28 billion dollars for luxury necessities.

Has the Church anything to say concerning usury, the use of leisure, the submarginal groups among our people caught in this economic squeeze and rampant materialism? Watchman, what of the night?

Walter Schlichting’s “Christians, Luxury and Sacrifice” (Moody Monthly, March 1957) tells of the amusement that two American business men visiting Korea experienced when they saw a young farmer pulling a plow guided by his father. A missionary told them that they had sold their only ox and given the money to their church for a new building. “What a stupendous sacrifice!” exclaimed the American visitors. “They did not feel that way at all … They counted it a great joy that they had an ox to give to the Lord’s work,” answered the veteran missionary.

The same author tells of a returning missionary and his impressions of significant changes among Christians in America. The answer? “Yes—an increasing spiritual coldness.” And then: “The Christians are too engrossed in getting things and gadgets.… In the scramble they have lost touch with God.”

This writer has been alarmed about the tremendous turnover in missionary personnel. He knows of five missionary couples who have returned after one term on the field and the cost at the most charitable reckoning must have amounted to at least $10–12,000. The cost of church-ecclesiastical committees are rising every day. One even hears that missionaries on the field must spend much of their time as tourist guides to “prominent” laymen and pastors encircling the globe. What of our stewardship at home and abroad?

G. Pitt Beers, writing on “Home Missions After 125 Years” (Missions, May 1957) surveys the extensive and sacrificial work of American Baptists since 1832. When the ABHS was established in that year, our population was 12,858,670. New York City had 202,589 people, including 17 slaves. Today America numbers more than 165,000,000 people. Dr. Beers passionately argues for greater efforts to win America’s unchurched millions to the Lord Jesus Christ. “Though more people are in our churches than ever before, there are also more unchurched people than ever before. There are more unchurched communities of larger populations. There are more people in deteriorated city areas, largely untouched by the evangel. The needs of the people call from every side.… It is, indeed, a time for the Christian forces to go forward.”

“Evaluating Our Religious Revival” by Dr. Edward L. R. Elson in The Journal of Religious Thought, (Autumn-Winter 1956–57) is a sobering word against too hasty evaluations. We have by now heard Reinhold Niebuhr, Edward Carnell, Homrighausen and even Paul Tillich on the matter. Elson warns against cynics and snobs who prematurely decry or denounce the current religious revival. He defends both Billy Graham and Norman Vincent Peale, although he by no means is in full agreement with either. Both have been in the writer’s pulpit. Elson is aware of the pitfalls of revivalism, but he rightly points out that “the methods which one religious leader rejects may be effective through another religious leader.” Presbyterians in the Great Awakening (1734–58) became sorely divided into Old Sides and New Sides, yet God was in that mighty movement of grace. Elson searchingly asks:

Can it be that the lamentation of some critics is so boisterous because the real awakening does not emerge from their particular theological school, their academic cult, or their personally approved techniques and methods?

Let us beware, he warns, lest we mistake biliousness for prophetic insight. Theology is important, Elson admits, and as a Presbyterian pastor he is grateful both for the vigorous evangelism and the resurgence of vital theology of our day. However, the critics of revival need to be reminded “that men are not saved by theology. Men are saved by the grace of God. The Gospel is simply the good news that in Christ God acted on behalf of man for his redemption. The gap between the theologian at the summit and the newly initiated may be very great; but a Christian must begin somewhere, and it ought to be sufficient for him to begin where the earliest Christian began, with the confession Jesus is Lord.” The concluding word of Elson’s address sums up the burden of his heart:

Let us not miss the wonder and the glory of our age just because we are too close to its impact, too complacent with its stirrings, or too cautious to comprehend its meaning.

Dr. Elson’s convictions were addressed to the 39th annual convocation of the School of Religion at Harvard University.

Another word of warning comes from the ever judicious missionary statesman, Professor Kenneth Scott Latourette. In an article “Rethinking Missions After 25 Years” (International Review of Missions, April 1957), he warns the leaders of ecumenical-minded missions against overlooking the rapid growth in Asia, Africa and Latin America of groups and denominations who do not cooperate with the ecumenical movement. “Indeed, the non-cooperating bodies are more and more the growing geographical edge of Protestantism” (p. 168). Their prominence, Latourette says, “should compel those churches who join in the ecumenical movement to re-appraise their methods and message in more drastic fashion than did even the Inquiry.” Protestantism must ever be self-critical in the light of God’s revealed truth and changing conditions.

Cover Story

The Holy Spirit in Acts and the Epistles

Only once, for a period of ten days, have the followers of Christ ever been found in a state of waiting. The Lord himself was no longer physically present to teach his own, and the promised Spirit had not yet come. But as soon as the Spirit came that company was galvanized into purposeful activity. They were launched upon a witness which turned the world upside down.

The Greater Works

Evidently Jesus had selected his words with care when he told his chosen band in the Upper Room that it was expedient for them that he go away. If he did not go, he asserted, the Spirit would not come. His followers might well ask what could possibly be more to their advantage than the continued bodily presence of their Lord and Master? Yet now in one almost unbelievable day they had lived to experience the fulfillment of Jesus’ statement. The Spirit had come and with his coming the greater works had begun to unfold. A harvest of souls larger than Jesus had garnered through three long wearisome years of labor had been gathered in during this single day of Pentecostal blessing.

We need have no doubt about the accuracy of Luke’s report of that eventful day. Who would dare to claim for the preaching of the apostles a greater measure of success than had attended the efforts of the Lord Jesus? But this very success, even though it is attributed to the Spirit, creates a problem. Granted that Jesus had predicted this new era of power and achievement; yet its very realization seems to compromise his own uniqueness as the Mediator, the Founder of the Church, the supreme Lord. Is not the Spirit more potent than he? Do not the Spirit’s accomplishments outshine those of the Saviour?

All this is true in appearance only. Actually if the Son of God had not offered himself for the sins of men and if the Father had not raised him from the dead, there would have been no demonstration of the Spirit’s power at Pentecost. Further, the supreme authority of the Son is safeguarded in the very fact that he sent the Spirit. The economy of the Spirit is his own continuing work. The testimony of the Spirit is what the Spirit hears from the risen Christ (John 16:13,14). The Lord Jesus is the one who baptizes with the Spirit. The mighty deeds wrought through apostolic hands by the Spirit are equally attributable to the living Christ (Rom. 15:18,19). The gifts which the Spirit so freely bestows upon the Church are traced ultimately to the beneficence of the risen Lord (Eph. 4:8 ff). At no time does the Spirit act in independence of the exalted Son of God.

In view of the importance attached by Jesus to the coming of the Spirit in his teaching of the twelve and in view of the personal participation by these men in the experience of being filled and emboldened by the Spirit, it is not surprising that they attributed their decisions, their actions and the fruitfulness of their labors to the Spirit’s guidance and control. Later generations of believers could talk about the doctrine of the Spirit. These men knew rather the fact of the Spirit’s presence and power in their lives.

The Spirit’S Flame

The early Church was characterized by a limited emphasis on organization. We read of apostles and elders and deacons, to be sure, but the real guarantee of order, the real authority in discipline, the real ability in the ministering of the Word lay with the Spirit. Ananias and Sapphira learned that it could be fatal to try to deceive Him. Peter learned that he could safely move in company which his traditions and inclinations forbade as long as he was sure that the Spirit was sending him. Faced with the same prejudice against Gentiles which Peter originally had, the church at Jerusalem came to the point of acknowledging that these aliens from the commonwealth of Israel were to be admitted to Christian fellowship without any burden of law observance. It freely acknowledged that its decision was prompted by the Spirit of God (Acts 15:28). Indeed, it could scarcely have acted otherwise, seeing that the Spirit had already pointed in this direction by coming upon Gentiles as Peter preached to them (Acts 15:8). Another prominent congregation, the Gentile church at Antioch, itself the product of missionary labors, was constrained by the Spirit to thrust forth its most valued leaders to bear the message to more remote places (Acts 13:2).

This apostolic Church is the Church we forget. We remember that it was missionary, and we try to be. We recall that it preached the Word, and we admonish one another to sound forth the Gospel in no uncertain terms. But somehow the wheels drag heavily. We are burdened with our efforts. We delight in motion even when we cannot honestly call it progress. Men of like passions with ourselves made up the apostolic Church. They were guilty of disharmony at times. They made mistakes. But their crowning credential is that they lived and labored under the consciousness of the authority of the Holy Spirit. Unless the Church in our time can recapture this basic attitude, it cannot successfully minister in the present world crisis.

It is characteristic of the allusions to the Spirit in the book of Acts that they are part of the life situation of the early Church. They are not items of formal instruction about the Spirit. For these we must turn to the Epistles. The extensive data cannot easily be subsumed under a few heads, but we propose to examine the teaching in terms of the Spirit’s relation to Scripture, to Christ, and to the saints.

Spirit And Scripture

We learn that no part of Scripture can be explained, from the standpoint of its initiation, as a human production. Rather, men spoke from God as they were borne along by the Spirit (2 Pet. 1:20,21). Consequently it is impossible to hold that the Bible is a humanly produced work which God subsequently endorsed. It is his Word because of the Spirit’s activity in prompting and controlling the human writers. From a companion passage (1 Pet. 1:10–12) we learn that some things given to the Old Testament prophets were so far beyond their own understanding that they required special illumination in order to comprehend the temporal aspect of their prophecies concerning the redemptive work of the Messiah.

The Word is not only a treasure house of divine information but an arsenal for the use of the Christian soldier. The weapons of our warfare are spiritual. In particular the Word of God is the sword of the Spirit (Eph. 6:17). It cuts deeply into heart and conscience. It overcomes the evil one.

If the Spirit has truly authored the written Word, that to which our Lord appealed whether in the midst of temptation or argument or calm instruction, how unthinkable it is for the Christian to depreciate that Word by alleging that there is a guidance and authority of the Spirit which transcends the Word and sets one free from the trammels of the ancient and static oracles. When Paul draws his contrast between the letter which kills and the Spirit which gives life (2 Cor. 3:6; Rom. 7:6), he has no intention of providing justification for this modern fancy. He is simply contrasting the economy of the Spirit, the Gospel dispensation, with the legal economy, the Mosaic dispensation.

The Lord And The Spirit

As we turn to consider the relation between the Spirit and Christ, it is well to note at the outset that here too a wrongheaded criticism has misrepresented the true state of affairs. Paul’s emphasis on Christ as Spirit (1 Cor. 15:45 and possibly 2 Cor. 3:17) has been construed as contradicting the idea of a bodily resurrection (an ironical twist to a passage embedded in the great resurrection chapter) or as an indication that for Paul the earthly Jesus of history mattered little; what is crucial is one’s perception of him in his present spiritual existence. The antithesis is sometimes put in this form: Jesus the man versus Christ the Spirit. In the hands of criticism this operates to impart to the figure of Christ a mystical vagueness. But when Paul linked the Spirit to Jesus, the actual result was not the etherealizing of Jesus into the Christ but rather the sharpening of the personality and historicity of the Spirit. Paul was already committed to the indispensability of the historic Jesus for Christian faith (1 Cor. 11:1).

A typical representation is that which the apostle gives in Galatians 4:4–6. God sent his Son to redeem; then into the hearts of those who received the Son he sent the Spirit of his Son, the same Spirit who rested upon him in the days of his flesh and who has now come to glorify him. How could this Spirit, in the fulfilling of such a function, divert attention from the historic Jesus, the One who sent him to realize in his followers the lively image of his character and to recall to them his words and deeds and to guide them into his truth?

Doubtless the tide Spirit of Christ is intended not only to glance back to the earthly life of Jesus but also to emphasize that it is only by means of the Spirit that Jesus, exalted to the right hand of the Father, can come to dwell in the hearts of his people.

The Spirit And The Saints

By far the richest teaching of the Epistles on the Spirit concerns his relation to the saints. Here the gamut runs from conversion to consummation. Every phase of the believer’s life is under the gracious and compelling influence of the Paraclete. Christian life in terms of the teaching of the Epistles simply could not exist apart from his enablement. He is, in fact, the bringer of life (Rom. 8:2,6,10).

The Spirit A Gift

Because of our familiarity with the truth that every believer has the Spirit (Rom. 8:9), we are in danger of overlooking the truth that he is ours by virtue of a divine gift. Christ was given once; the Spirit is given every time a heart is opened to the incoming of Christ. God’s gifts are not repented of. The Spirit’s dwelling is permanent. Yet one would not know it to judge from our prayers and our hymnology. Ever and again we implore the Spirit to come. Such a prayer would seem to be a confession that we have not rightly cultivated his presence, that we are still in measure strangers to the communion of the Spirit.

Broadly stated, the Spirit is given to us for the development of the potential of our new life in Christ Jesus. He is ever the Servant of our blessed Lord even as Christ took the place of the Servant in relation to the Father during the days of his flesh. In sanctification the order is not, as in salvation, Christ, then the Spirit, but the reverse. We are to be strengthened by the Spirit in the inner man for the fullest measure of the realization of Christ who dwells in our hearts (Eph. 3:16,17). The goal is the new man in Christ which is being formed within us (Gal. 4:19).

The truth is in order to goodness. A part of the Spirit’s work is to lead the people of God into the truth, disclosing the deep things of God to them, that they may become “spiritual,” which Paul defines in terms of possessing the mind of Christ (1 Cor. 2:16). From the plight of the Corinthians we learn that the very truths of the Word which are needed to build us up can be kept from us by such things as divisions and strife, which belong to the old life but are out of place in the new. From the Spirit we must “learn Christ,” discovering what is alien to him as well as what is in harmony with his will.

The Spirit And The Flesh

One can hardly consider sanctification without some attention to the recurring title, the Holy Spirit. Almost nonexistent in the Old Testament, it appears occasionally in the Gospels, profusely in the Acts (over 40 times) and moderately in the Epistles (approximately 25 times). But when we look for a connection between the use of this title and the situation in which it is employed, it is seldom apparent in the Gospels (perhaps Luke 1:35 is the only instance). In the Acts the tide is almost conventional, although 5:3 may be an exception. In the Epistles, however, the title seems to be deliberately chosen at times to reinforce the demand for inner conformity to his holy presence (1 Cor. 6:19; Eph. 4:30; 1 Thess. 4:8).

Paul is fond of putting the Spirit in sharp antithesis to the flesh. If the flesh (which includes mental attitudes as well as bodily appetites) is powerless to please God in a man’s unconverted state it is equally true that the flesh which lingers in the believer cannot please God. The only hope for overcoming the pull of the flesh lies in hearty submission to the Spirit (Rom. 8:4; Gal. 5:16).

Presence And Fullness

In the Epistles, as in the Acts, a distinction is recognized between the presence of the Spirit and his fullness. In salvation, the believer is the passive recipient of the Spirit, who comes in as the divine seal of the transaction. But in attaining the fullness of the Spirit, the will of the child of God is active. We are commanded to have such fullness (Eph. 5:18). That this is no esoteric experience is evident. The command is addressed to all—wives, husbands, children, slaves, all whose peculiar obligations are sketched in the ensuing verses. Surely the implication is that even the homely demands laid upon them cannot be fulfilled apart from the Spirit’s fullest enablement. But this fullness of the Spirit is not linked to the realization of somber duty alone. It is more immediately seen as working out in terms of joyfulness and thanksgiving, so that obligations may be addressed with a light heart (Eph. 5:19,20).

Logically the fullness of the Spirit is closely connected with the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22,23), even though, in the immediate context, Paul prefers such terms as being led of the Spirit and walking in the Spirit. He distinguishes these states from simply living in the Spirit (Gal. 5:25). Some believers in our day, as in the apostolic age, are enamored of the spectacular gifts of the Spirit such as speaking in tongues. Even if these should be sought and cultivated, it is well to remember that the apostle points to the fruit of the Spirit (which does not include the spectacular gifts) as the more excellent way. Unless the fruit of the Spirit is present, the power of the Spirit does not result in edification. Love has the preeminence in building up the saints.

This leads to the observation that the same Spirit who joins the individual believer to Christ unites the saints to one another. The term body of Christ is highly significant. Just as man is constituted of body and spirit, so the church is more than a mass of individuals viewed as a whole. It becomes a living organism because of the Spirit who indwells it.

Delicate indeed is the task of the Spirit. In the Word which he has inspired he must speak of himself. But he does so with consummate modesty. He gives himself no name. His titles are scarcely distinctive, for God is Spirit and God is holy. As the Spirit of God or the Spirit of Christ, he places himself in apparent dependency upon the other members of the Godhead. He nowhere asks for a specific act of faith toward himself. He turns us ever toward the Son of God and through him to the Father. It is his glory to glorify Christ. No man speaking by the Spirit of God called Jesus accursed: and no man can say that Jesus is Lord, but by the Holy Ghost (1 Cor. 12:3).

Everett F. Harrison was born in Alaska of missionary parents. He holds the A.B. degree from University of Washington, A.M. from Princeton University, Th.B. from Princeton Theological Seminary, Th.D. from Dallas Theological Seminary and Ph.D. from University of Pennsylvania. Since 1947 he has been Professor of New Testament at Fuller Theological Seminary. He is author of The Son of God among the Sons of Men and is presently engaged in writing a Life of Christ.

Cover Story

From Wesley to Graham

A criticism in Britain at the time of the Billy Graham Crusades suggested that such efforts were outside the stream of national religious development and therefore suspect. This view takes no account of history. For over two hundred years, since large populations first arose, mass evangelism has played a leading part in the growth of Christianity in the British Isles.

A Venerable Tradition

The memory of John Wesley and George Whitefield is now held in high honor. Their names, Wesley’s especially, have that aura of respectability which is given to the prophets of the past and which was accorded to neither during his lifetime by national religious leaders.

Both men—Whitefield following somewhat gingerly at first in Wesley’s footsteps—addressed vast crowds in the only large auditoriums available, the open air. For preaching in unconsecrated buildings or in the open and for making mass appeals for decision they were berated by their contemporaries. A new class, however, a proletariat, had been created in Britain by the Industrial Revolution, and organized religion had passed it by. The two evangelists, working for the greater part independently and at times in doctrinal conflict, brought to this new class the knowledge of the holiness and love of God. They went fearlessly among rough and almost savage miners and sought out the factory and mill workers while also, like the Lollards before them, preaching at the market crosses of great country towns. The “classes” they founded and the congregations they built up brought a new awareness of Christ to many of every level, Whitefield especially reaching the aristocracy.

But it was the proletariat who most felt the power of Wesley and Whitefield. Without the two evangelists and their followers those exploited myriads, unleavened by the Gospel of Christ, might have exploded in a revolution more terrible than that of France. And this was recognized, once the passing of time permitted the building of the sepulchres of persecuted prophets.

Generations Of Silence

After Wesley’s death in 1791 no evangelist of like caliber arose for two generations. The stream of the Evangelical Revival flowed on, Wesley’s branch mainly through the church which bore his name, Whitefield’s more directly affecting the Church of England. Evangelicalism grew, but its great names were now those of pastors and teachers, such as Charles Simeon of Cambridge, or social reformers, such as Wilberforce and Lord Shaftesbury. As the nineteenth century passed into its fifties the movement became stilted, its impetus dying, choked with the respectability born of its own victory, and its energies increasingly absorbed by controversy rather than evangelism.

In 1857 occurred the revival in New York. In 1859 this revival reached Northern Ireland from where, in the early sixties it spread through the length and breadth of England and Scotland, more quietly than in the first evangelical revival, but as surely. No name to be placed beside that of Wesley is associated with these years, but during them arose great missions operating today at home or abroad. A new spirit of devotion, of faith in God’s power, and of willingness to proclaim the Christian gospel with conviction was sensed in churches, chapels, and meeting houses, preparing the way for the great advance to follow.

Moody’S Visit To Britain

In 1873, at the age of thirty-eight, Dwight Lyman Moody reached England. He had made a short visit before but had been unknown beyond a small circle. From 1873 to 1875, Moody undertook a campaign throughout the British Isles, and in a short time this genial, burly New Englander with a large black beard became, with the singer Ira D. Sankey, an important force in British religious life. He addressed, night after night, crowded meetings in London, Edinburgh and the provinces; he touched the lives of princesses and flower girls, cabinet ministers and cabbies and gave the churches a new vision of the need and the possibilities of evangelism. His second long visit, from 1882 to 1884, ensured that whatever the caustic comments of the ill-disposed, D. L. Moody would be reckoned among the formative figures in the development of modern Britain.

At first sight it seems strange that such a man should have so influenced mid-Victorian England, when the upper classes were stiff with convention and an excessive regard for birth and rank and the masses inclined to despise Americans as heartily as they despised Colonials. Unlike Wesley, Moody had little academic background. He made up for it by voracious reading and a native shrewdness which made him the type of the self-made man on whom depended the new wealth, if not the political leadership, of the age. He had no obvious breeding (and his accent was at first a source of mirth) but he offset this handicap by an innate courtesy developed no doubt as much from his New England background as from the influence of God’s grace on his character. And this, with his patience and expansive good humor, helped him to win the respect and affection of men and women of all levels without pandering to their artificialities. And his profound learning in those two great books—the Bible and human nature—enabled him to penetrate to the root of the troubles of those who sought his help.

The strength of British religion in the last quarter of the nineteenth century owed much to Moody. He did not initiate revival, as Wesley and Whitefield, but he caught the rising tide and swept it on until it reached the furthest recesses of the land. Every Protestant mission and ministry, even the Tractarians, drew strength from his work, epitomized by a remark of the Vice-Principal of a Cambridge theological college two years after Moody’s mission in the University. “I think there is not one man here whose life was not influenced more or less by Moody’s mission.”

In the social sphere he was not a pioneer, for the social consciousness was already alert before he came. But his campaigns increased the impetus provided by Lord Shaftesbury and others, and renewed the hope of the Gospel to the underprivileged who might have been led into materialistic exasperation by the agnosticism of Darwin and Huxley. That the British working-class movement developed more in the spirit of Methodism than of Marx is not a little due to Moody.

The Arrival Of Torrey

Nineteen years after Moody’s second campaign, another American evangelist landed in England. For two years it seemed as if the great days were back. R. A. Torrey, the failed suicide who had been converted to Christ, the brilliant Bible student who had run after Higher Criticism and found it wanting, the abrupt and rather forbidding white-bearded, white-haired prophet of forty-eight, reached London with Charles Alexander in 1903 after a triumphant evangelistic tour in Australia and New Zealand.

In the providence of God Great Britain has often learned more from American evangelists than from the native-born. Perhaps it is the freshness of their approach and the pleasing unfamiliarity of their accent which enables them to deal more faithfully with us than we would accept from one of ourselves.

R. A. Torrey was no exception. He filled the great halls of London and the chief cities of the land. He reached men and women of all classes. His severity seemed more apposite to the careless Edwardian age than Moody’s geniality, his inside knowledge of the strident liberalism of the contemporary theological leaders and his reasoned faith in “the Bible, the whole Bible, as the word of God; an altogether reliable revelation from God himself” was more effective for his generation than would have been Moody’s more rough-hewn presentation of biblical truth.

When Torrey left Great Britain in 1905, the sponsors said, “We know that tens of thousands have opened their hearts to Christ … and there have been blessings that cannot be counted, a spiritual force and influence and awakening which is immeasurable.” Yet no lasting national revival occurred. The churches turned again to their theological and ritualistic controversies, popular agnostic science gained further ground (despite the faith of many leading scientists), literary men continued to proclaim a Christian ethic divorced from Christian dogma and nine years later the outbreak of the First World War shattered the brittle fabric of national church-going.

The Barren Decades

In the barren years between the wars, the twenties and thirties, with the tide flowing strongly against any vigorous or authoritative Christianity, evangelism was at a discount. Such attempts as there were at mass evangelism on more than a strictly local level were associated with unfortunate characters, some from across the Atlantic, whose odd methods or travesties of doctrine left a legacy of suspicion to shadow the work of those who trod sounder paths in recent days; or else were devoted to the propagation of teaching attuned more to the spirit of the age than of the Scriptures, such as Frank Buchman’s Oxford Group.

In the late forties, in the fresher atmosphere generated by the sufferings and achievements of the Second World War, the usefulness and potentialities of great meetings began to be demonstrated again. The name of Mr. Tom Rees should be honored for his faith in reopening tracks which had become overgrown with the weeds of the interwar years.

The Graham Impetus

When Dr. Billy Graham came to London early in 1954, he arrived at a time, as the Archbishop of Canterbury commented in his sympathetic appraisal at the close of the Crusade, when “a fairly widespread beginning of a return to the Christian religion had already set in.… Many things had combined to make people desire to find an escape from moral indifference, disillusionment and despair. Many were ready to be recalled to their faith in Christ or to discover afresh his claim upon them.” Thus, like Moody and unlike Wesley, Dr. Graham did not, under God, initiate a recovery of faith but was used to lift forward the incoming surge. For, as the Archbishop also wrote in June, 1954, the London Crusade “beyond doubt brought new strength and hope in Christ to multitudes, and won many to him.… It has given an impetus to evangelism for which all churches may be thankful to God.”

It is too soon to appraise Dr. Graham’s position in the story of British Christianity. But his London and his Glasgow Crusades can never be forgotten. And if the signs of the times are sure and if, as is to be hoped, he returns to conduct a Crusade in the Industrial North of England, it would certainly seem that he will be regarded by the later twentieth century as significantly as Moody the century before.

Evangelism And The Nation

These five evangelists—Wesley, Whitefield, Moody, Torrey, Graham—with varying backgrounds and characters and, apart from their different historical environments, varying methods, have characteristics in common, which might be called the marks of the great evangelist. Each has the awareness of a definite, dated conversion, though not necessarily preceded by intense spiritual conflict. Each has an unhesitating dependence on the Bible as the Word of God, to be used as the Sword of the Spirit; no liberal has ever been a great evangelist. All the five possess great energy and resilience, an ability to continue for prolonged periods without proper leisure and to seize their relaxation in odd moments—Wesley did most of his reading on horseback as he traveled to his next engagement.

They exhibit strict discipline of body and mind and know that their ability to preach effectively depends on their willingness to absorb Bible knowledge and to read widely. They have faith, continually renewed. They have a passionate, unforced love for the souls for whom Christ died and, above all, a deep and abiding sense of the presence beside them of their Lord and Saviour.

Pastors, teachers and administrators each have their part to play. But without the evangelist God’s will for a nation cannot be fulfilled. And without these men, from Wesley to Graham, England would not be what it is.

J. C. Pollock, Editor of the Anglican quarterly The Churchman, is Rector of Horsington, Somerset, England. Author of several books, his most recent work, The Road to Glory, the story of Havelock of Lucknow, the distinguished Christian general, is scheduled for publication this year.

Cover Story

John Dewey and the American Spirit

With the death of Professor John Dewey in June, 1952, there passed from the contemporary American scene a man whose writings probably reflected the real America since the turn of the century more revealingly than those of any other contemporary philosopher. Our faith in democracy as the ultimate guarantee of the perfectibility of society and the individual, our optimism concerning the wholly secular public school, the decline of Protestantism as a pervading Christian influence, our practical atheism, and our materialism—it is all duly recorded in Professor Dewey’s special brand of pragmatism known as instrumentalism.

As a philosopher he threw overboard all metaphysics, and he repudiated all absolutes—except, of course, the two which he introduced more or less sub rosa, namely, evolution as a cosmic and social principle, and scientific method as the only means of arriving at truth. And the only truth worth having, according to Professor Dewey, is not truth in any absolute or final sense but rather truth in the sense of “truth made,” truth provisional, truth for the time being. He refused to recognize the genuineness of any problem not in the end referable to experiment and practice, and he defined knowledge as the “intelligent control of a material situation.” Ideas are mere tools, and human intelligence is simply an “organ for the control of nature through action.” The only problems ever really solved are practical ones, whereas metaphysical and religious ones are simply outgrown. There are no eternal verities and no final answers, and any school of philosophy proposing final answers ipso facto degrades itself to a school of apologetics and propaganda.

Premium On The Provisional

Genuine progressive thinking is provisional thinking, i. e., it confines itself to the here and now, always aware of the necessity of perpetual adjustment to changing conditions. Man has no demonstrable destiny or end but only “ends that are literally endless.” Embedded as we are in the evolutionary process it does not make sense to talk about the universe as a whole, for our universe is and will forever remain a “universe in the making.” Moral and other values, therefore, have nothing of the abiding and the eternal about them.…

The import of all this for education is that it, together with everything else, will have to keep moving and changing. Accordingly, Dewey’s application of the absolutes of evolution and scientific method to education came to be known as “progressive education.” Because society learns only in the course of trying to solve its problems, the school should function as a kind of miniature society, in which progress in learning comes as a result of problem solving. The child, like the scientist and, let us hope, like the philosopher, gets his problems from the world of action and should therefore “return his account there for auditing and liquidation,” especially since the practical pursuits of modern man are of a kind as to allow “intellectualization.” Anyway, experimental science has effectually undermined the prestige of the purely intellectual studies.

Change, evolution, and progress are incompatible with the idea of unchanging goals or aims. The proper aims of progressive education are, therefore, those which satisfy the following criteria: They should be the outgrowth of existing conditions so that they will be founded on the activities and needs of the pupil; they should enlist the pupil’s cooperation; they should be flexible; and they should be specific and immediate rather than general and ultimate. Whereas traditionally the aim of education was conceived as the realization of man’s ideal nature and true end (which for Christian education meant the realization of his destiny as a redeemed creature made in the image of God), “progressive education” knows of no ideal nature or true end. For man as a member of a universe in the making there can be only an endless series of immediate and provisional ends, ends which are themselves means to still further ends. We know that somehow we are moving, but we can never know where we are going and just how we shall get there. And so if education may be said to have anything like a general aim at all it can only be that of social efficiency—for the time being, of course. Consequently, we cannot assert that one study is more valuable than another since value is something relative, depending upon specific situation. All we can say is that culture must be socially efficient to deserve the name of culture, that it is simply a halo of vocation, that usefulness is in utility rather than in enjoyment, and that a thing has value because it is useful.

Some Critical Reflections

A few observations. To say that one subject is as valuable as any other is to say that education has no determinable goal, i. e., that it is impossible to know just what the purpose of education really is. And this brings us to the subject of Professor Dewey’s criteria of the proper aims of education. These criteria would seem to apply to bad aims as well as to good ones—even where by bad aims we meant nothing more than aims which seem to interfere with “social efficiency.” These criteria would evidently be satisfied, for example, by a successful school for the training of thieves (on whatever financial or political level), gangsters, shysters, confidence men, and so on. The aims of such a school would presumably be founded on petty thievery as a persistent activity and need of the young; they would evidently enlist the cooperation of the pupils; and they would be specific and immediate rather than general and ultimate. In fact, such a school would aptly illustrate Professor Dewey’s definition of subject matter, viz, “what one needs to know in order to do what one is interested in doing.”

It is right here that we see the fallacy of limiting the essentials of education to the essentials of scientific method, for education and life vastly transcend scientific thinking. Professor Dewey, although recognizing the legitimacy of remote ends and interests, shows a definite preference for the immediate ones. As a result the factors of duty and conscience never really enter into the picture of progressive education, proposing as it does only those aims which place no obligation on human nature. Yet there is no good reason, whether in logic or psychology, why remote and therefore more or less external aims, aims imposed as it were from without, cannot in fact represent truly human ideals, ideals which may become internal as the result of a change of attitude. In fact psychology and psychiatry are today reasserting an old truth to the effect that a stable personality depends to a considerable extent upon such things as obedience, the recognition of authority, and self-denial. An important criterion of educational aims, a criterion ignored by Dewey, is that it should embody an ideal whose fulfillment is willed. It is simply a matter of fact that conscious mental effort has proved an important factor in past progress; and to the objection that imagined good does not sufficiently influence conduct, the answer is that by the testimony of history it is certain that imagined evil does. Dewey’s conception of interest may fit the needs of backward children; it does not fit the realities in the world of adults.

In discussing the role of the public schools in America Professor Dewey appears to be somewhat at odds with himself. He admits that as a matter of history American society made the American public school; nevertheless he recommends that the public school be used as an instrument to reform American society. Here the truth seems to be that the schools, like the philosophers, like John Dewey himself, rarely do more than reflect social conditions and the social temper, and that they do not as a rule change them. The American public will probably continue to employ the schools for the purpose of propagating the type of society in which the adults believe. After all, the adults live where the economic, political, and other problems are; hence, if there is to be any reforming at all, adult society will have to begin by reforming itself. That the schools usually reflect the society which supports them can readily be learned by looking at Russia, where a transformed adult society quickly transformed the schools.

Professor Dewey’s notion of learning by doing has, of course, its uses, and no one has ever denied this. But it also has its limitation. There is an old saying that only fools must learn by experience—the implication being, of course, that the wide awake pupil will be able to learn both from books and from the sad experience of others. Children need not experience crime in order to be effectively warned against it. Naturally, the burnt child dreads the fire, but that hardly warrants the burning. The learning process may start on the basis of physical activities, but that does not support the conclusion that it should be kept there. All depends upon the grade of intelligence; that is to say, the lower the grade of intelligence the more numerous the physical activities apparently necessary. Children doubtless begin some of their learning as the animals do; on the other hand, animals cannot learn as children learn, since otherwise we should be able to teach them mathematics, aesthetics, and morals. One of the most interesting features of Dewey’s theory of progressive education is the paradox that a person completely the product of this theory consistendy applied would be quite incapable of reading and understanding Dewey. If philosophy—at least in one of its important phases—may be defined as “the ultimate sense of the ridiculous,” Professor Dewey’s philosophy of education seems seriously lacking in at least one important respect.

Priority Problems

In refusing to recognize the genuineness of all problems not referable to the method of hypothesis and verification on the physical level Professor Dewey, of course, brushes aside all “purely intellectual problems.” The truth is, however, that such problems do in fact determine men’s conduct to an extent far greater than is commonly supposed. Take for example such a “purely intellectual” problem as that of survival after death. The question of survival is natural to man in spite of the fact that any hypothesis about it is necessarily speculative and inconclusive. Furthermore, it is regulative of human conduct since, obviously, people act as if it were true, or false, or a matter of indifference. To justify any one of these alternatives would call for a certain amount of thinking, thinking which in the nature of the case must always be incomplete. In other words, it is simply a fact of existence to be explained—not ignored—that man is inevitably philosophical, that he thinks about problems he can never completely solve, and that he acts upon beliefs he can never hope directly and completely to verify. One may argue, of course, that modern man ought not to trouble his mind with these things, but the fact remains that he not only does, but that he can’t very well do anything else and remain normal. And that is something to be explained, not simply condemned.

Is pragmatism something new? William James once called it a “new name for an old way of thinking.” Certainly the only thing new about Professor Dewey’s brand of it is the success with which he gave ancient doctrines an American orientation. Its denial of finality to truth, its assertion of man as the measure of all things, its evolution, its naturalism, its denial of the legitimacy of metaphysics, its definition of knowledge as a tool for discovery, its humanism, and its skepticism are as old as, respectively, Heraclitus, Protagoras, Empedocles, Democritus, Lucretius, the mediaeval nominalist, Hume, Comte, and Herbert Spencer. Nevertheless, John Dewey’s influence upon primary and secondary education in America is not easily over-estimated. In Columbia University he left behind a minor galaxy of pragmatists in the school of philosophy, who in turn have fathered thousands of “pale spiritual offspring in the jungles of Teachers College” alone. And Teachers College, despite the fact that it has occasionally been ridiculed for standing politically and socially for little more than colorlessness, mediocrity, and just plain behaviorism, has exerted a tremendous influence upon the school teachers of the American Middle West, underpaid men and women who for years have willingly spent their summers in New York City for the privilege of drinking at this new fountain of progress.

A Final Judgment

What must be our final judgment on John Dewey as the philosopher of the American public school? It would seem to be an elementary truth that before we can hope to invent a system, whether of politics or education, which will not in the end turn out to be thoroughly bad, we should be able to take for granted the existence of something like common decency. Now, moral earnestness without religious conviction is a bare possibility—at least with the select few who happen to be the beneficiaries of a moral momentum bequeathed by generations of devout forebears. But as a rule the passing of a religion marks the decline of the moral consciousness which it created and sustained. Professor Dewey seems to have taken for granted that the common decency he himself adhered to by reason of the aftershine of a Puritan ancestry could be regarded as a ubiquitous feature of human nature as the result of evolution. If so, his philosophy of education appears to rest upon a somewhat precarious faith, a thing not quite in keeping with his strenuous disavowal of metaphysics and his reverence for scientific method. And if, in view of the present religious and moral poverty in the homes, the schools, and increasingly large sections of the churches, American education will presently have only the principles of instrumentalism to fall back on, one wonders just how long we can last as a self-governing and civilized society. John Dewey is dead, but the dominant secular temper of contemporary America which he expressed is very much alive. John Dewey’s spirit “goes marching on”—who knows to what hard destiny?

END

Earthen Vessels

“For He knoweth our frame;

He remembereth that we are dust.”

The God who spoke to darkness

And bid it turn to light;

Set sun and moon in heaven

And made the day and night—

Is the Father who created

Man from the dust of earth;

Who breathed into him spirit—

Gave him eternal worth.

The God of our Lord Jesus,

Who sent Him as the Light

To fill the earthen vessel

And thus show forth His might—

Is the Potter who remodels

The creatures of His Hand

Until the Glow of heaven

Shines through, at His command.

This God of matchless Power

In earth and sea and sky;

Yet stoops to bear the burden

Of one so frail as I—

In His divine compassion

Takes my infirmity;

His Hand, I know, will perfect

Those things concerning me.

FRANCES M. BARBEE

Cecil De Boer, late Professor of Philosophy at Calvin College, died suddenly on November 28, 1955. His latest writings recently have been published under the title Responsible Protestantism: Essays on the Christian’s Role in a Secular Society by Eerdmans. The essay above is an abridgment of a chapter from this volume, reprinted by permission.

Cover Story

Christian Responsibility in Education

We should be roused from slumber by the spectre of a society where every school may become an instrument of state policy, every classroom a center for inculcating a totalitarian creed, every lecture an occasion for delineating truth and goodness as personal prejudices instead of durable distinctions. The world still outside the communist orbit has cause to ponder the perils of education gone wholly secular and godless, and to consider afresh the influences which stand guard against irresponsibility in education.

Because of the indispensability of an enlightened public opinion in a democracy, the United States has special reason for vigilance in the sphere of education. Our republic has sought to insure an informed citizenry through the provision of public education for our youth. Today some observers insist that we had a better democracy before our national reliance on public education, and moreover, that we have had less freedom since. Be that as it may, the time has come to take a new look at American education, and to raise anew the question of Christian responsibility; indeed, to fail to do so would be a mark of our neglect.

Loss Of Christian Ideals

Is there a way to bring together the concern for truth in private and public education without intruding a schismatic bias contrary to the American spirit but also without despising the Christian motifs whose dynamic once rescued the West from its pagan past and the loss of which is now sinking us into a pagan future?

In his treatment of The Development of Modern Education, Professor Frederick Eby sketches the rising “revolt against authority” that has “invalidated the imperatives of beauty, morality, and religion.” In a chapter on “Educational Progress in the 20th Century,” he reminds us: “Life has levelled off; art, intelligence, and spirit no longer aspire to the sublime.… The very suggestion of the universal, conceptual, perfect, or the infinite induces a shudder of revulsion down the spine of the sophisticated” (ibid., p. 679). Professor Eby writes not alone of the revolt against the past and against external authority; he writes as well of the increase of crime, of the exaltation of immorality, of the widespread cynicism of our times. And I cannot abstain from quoting: “Never have sex perversions; unscrupulous disregard of the evil effect of liquor, narcotics and tobacco upon children; divorce; rape; murder; political chicanery; debauchery; gambling; corrupt athletics; and contempt for law and order been so rampant and unblushing as they are today. The revolting sexual perversion extending from multiple divorce to criminal assault upon women and even little girls, frequently ending with the brutal murder of the victim; the increase in sexual relations of high school students; the heartless killings by youth of high IQ out of sheer moral idiocy; all such behavior testifies to the deterioration of public and private morality and sanity.… One conclusion is certain: the strong claims of a century ago that a system of public schools would do away with crime now look absurd.… Not only has public education failed to eliminate crime but it is in some measure responsible for the increase of these various evils.… Down to the end of the last century, educational leaders were college graduates who had studied ethics and the Evidences of Christianity, and the teachers were the products of an education which respected law and reverenced moral principles and religious sanction. All this was changed at about the end of the century.…” (ibid., p. 679 ff). So writes the Professor of History and Philosophy of Education at the University of Texas. And who need meditate long on the facts he relates without an awareness that it is timely indeed to raise the subject of Christian responsibility in education with new urgency?

A Christian Incentive

The rise of popular education in the West had a measure of Christian motivation. The urge to impart to every person a core of spiritually integrating information was lacking in the speculative philosophies of the Graeco-Roman world into which Christianity came. The ancient world not only lacked interest in universal education as such, but it lacked an evangelistic concern for the masses which might have stimulated and reinforced this. The ideal of mass education enlarged through the Middle Ages, through the Reformation, and through the Renaissance with its fresh concern for the course of this world.

Christian interest in general education and in the democratic process, however, looked beyond a secular exposition of man and society; it incorporated from the very first a concern for life on this planet fit also for the world to come. In the early American colonies, all education was Christian. When public schools emerged after the Revolution, the famed McGuffey readers preserved this sense of citizenship in two worlds. The Christian churches, moreover, likewise established higher education in America. Harvard was the first of a large number of colleges founded by the churches, with the special aim of an educated ministry. Two out of three of the colleges existing in the United States this very day were established by the churches.

The Tragic Decline

By the time of the first World War, the character of many of these colleges was only formally Christian. Until they were stabbed awake by the intellectual shock of the Second World War, they were not much interested in re-examining the Christian heritage. Harvard, bearing the Christian motto Christo et Ecclesiae, had gone Unitarian, and its Professor of Theology (J. A. C. F. Auer) was a humanist. Columbia, founded as King’s College in colonial times by Anglicans who chose its motto from the Psalms—“In Thy light shall we see light”—became through John Dewey’s influence at Teachers’ College the fountain of pragmatic naturalism in American primary and secondary education. Chicago, established with Rockefeller funds as a Christian university with a Baptist divinity school, declined into an essentially humanistic and functional center for the so-called “Chicago School of Theology.”

At the turn of the century, many universities still concealed their defection from Christianity by harboring idealistic philosophies of one sort or another. This idealistic speculation spurned the miraculous supernaturalism of the Bible, while at the same time over against naturalism it championed the reality of the supernatural world, the dignity of man, and the givenness of truth and morality. But idealism lost touch with the self-revealing God; it neglected the Law and the Prophets; it did not bow before the Incarnation, Atonement and Resurrection of Christ. It substituted for the word of Scripture the word of Hegel and Lotze and Royce and Bowne and Hocking and Flewelling. And, cut off from Christ and his redeeming work in the lives of men, it was important to halt the tidal waves of naturalism. John Dewey set the intellectual spirit of the new century by saying: “Faith in the divine authority in which western civilization confided, inherited ideas of the soul and its destiny, of fixed revelations … have been made impossible for the cultivated mind of the western world.” Although naturalism has not won the enthusiasm of the majority of the people in any nation, the enterprise of education in America, except for a few interdenominational colleges and a remnant of the church-related institutions, came to cast its weight against the theology and ethics of revealed religion.

Christianity Goes Underground

This became true in the public schools, through the infiltration of Dewey’s educational philosophy; it became true in private colleges and universities, through their disregard of Christian philosophy; it was true in public-supported universities, which had difficulty in defining the place of religion in the curriculum because of the American emphasis on separation of church and state. In all these centers of academic influence, biblical Christianity became subterranean. In the centers of intellectual life, the Christian tradition was regarded, however politely, with disdain and despite.

Nowhere in this pattern of things did there arise another President Timothy Dwight who, a century and a half ago, mindful of the apostasy of the campus, entered the chapel at Yale with a sense of missionary urgency and planted the seed of faith anew in the hearts of the students.

The Definition Of Deity

Today some educators are struggling against the secular surge that inundates all the spheres of learning. Yet even men of influence fail to sense that the rising tide of religiosity is no clear victory for the cause of pure religion, and that it may signify instead a resurgence of shallow superstitions in the realm of the spirit. There is pious talk of moral and spiritual values even by some educators who reject God and the supernatural; indeed, who do not even believe that any values are fixed and final. Men seem concerned to define a policy, while cautiously avoiding any definition of God.

A year ago, during extended high-level correspondence, educators began evolving a public school policy to emphasize that belief in God is inherent in American ideals and institutions. This, however, is a vague, cryptic and disappointing way of stating the facts. For the term God has now gained so many diverse definitions from American professors that the bare word is little more than a fetish.

Recently wide publicity was given the president of a university in the District of Columbia when he declared that no atheist would be approved on his teaching faculty. Asked what, specifically, was meant by an approved belief in God, the president replied: “I made no definition of ‘final cause’ or ‘God’ in my words.” Thus latitude over the real identity of God gains academic respectability, while a bare belief in the existence of an undefined god presumably provides an acceptable frame for religion and virtue on the campus. In actuality, however, this nebulosity brings us to the threshold of cynicism. For an undefined god is merely a word, and no god at all. It is no mere touch of irony, but a turn of logic, that in their defection from the Logos modern men speak no longer of the Word, but simply of a word (and that an unintelligible word) when they worship. In a post-Christian society, this altar to an unknown god supplies the transition, if I may say so, to the worship of antichrist.

Values And The Living God

A genuine concern for religious values in the classroom dare not make the definition of deity a matter of indifference. Whatever comfort theological vagueness may supply to professional circles, the doubt of our demoralized decade is not likely to be dispelled by the introduction into the curriculum of an emphasis on belief in a god who may or may not be supernatural, who may or may not be personal and who may or may not be living.

Since the bare notion of “faith in god” does not specifically share the emphasis of the Declaration of Independence that a supernatural Creator endows and preserves all men with unalienable rights, I pleaded that in the teaching of moral and spiritual values in the public schools the supreme being at least be designated as the Living God. The reply was that any such qualification would be partisan and sectarian; that the doctrine of separation of church and state excludes any definition of God. I would not have thought that separation of church and state requires a platform of spiritual and ethical values indifferent to the question whether God is living or not. In fact, I rather think the founding fathers would have warned us that the loss of the Creator would sooner or later involve us—by the most rigorous logic—in the loss also of unalienable rights, and of enduring moral and spiritual values.

The Regeneration Of Education

Sometimes I quite despair of our existing institutions—and in this touch of pessimism I am not alone—and wonder whether they retain any longer the spiritual courage and vision to reverse the present order of things. I do not say God has utterly cast them off, but I am unsure whether there remains any deep desire for the regeneration of education. I am not here to upbraid. And I am quite aware that even the Middle Ages produced no university fully permeated with the Christian ideal. I ask for no uncritical return to the past. But I rather fear the West has been too long adrift from its sacred moorings to cherish the prospect of a university in which an Augustine might hold the chair of philosophy; in which Calvin would teach philosophy of religion, and Zwingli comparative religions; with a Gladstone in law, a Handel in music, a Milton in literature, and a Kepler in astronomy. The virtual absence of Christians from our public faculties today almost inevitably raises the question whether contemporary education perhaps discriminates especially against them.

The Bible would not, indeed, be the only textbook in a program of education genuinely concerned with moral and spiritual values, but the students would feel the shock and sting of its sacred presuppositions. Is it not almost incredible, and yet at the same time quite natural from the standpoint of secular counterattack, that this Book from which our profoundest Western ideas and ideals are derived, and to which the dynamic for general education is itself somewhat indebted, should be increasingly banned from our public schools and bypassed by our colleges and universities? Does not history have a strange way of exacting retribution? The Bible is a bulwark of freedom; it sketches man’s rights and duties, and it states facts about both true and false religion. Is it not a remarkable commentary on our century that, when they were exposed to reactionary pressures that opposed teaching the facts of Communism in the public schools, teachers who had suppressed teaching the facts of Christianity were driven to invoke the privilege of teaching the facts of naturalistic irreligion as an evidence of academic liberty?

Neglect Of Higher Learning

The church, no less than the university, in our century has tended to restrict the relevance of Christian confession to religion. This limitation explains Protestantism’s failure to establish a university in the large and thorough sense, which penetrates all the schools of advanced instruction from the Christo-centric point of view, thereby fitting men for the professions—medicine, law, teaching, science, as well as the ministry—with a full-orbed sense of divine vocation. We have great universities, some with an appended postgraduate school of religion, or with an appended divinity school, but we do not have a Christian university permeated by the vision of God. We have a remnant of Christian colleges, many of them weak and struggling, and a few for whom the title “university” is a misnomer. If we really face the larger problem of Christian responsibility in education we shall soon see that the effectiveness of the faith nurtured in our homes and churches, and by those Christian influences that now survive in education, is fragmented and, moreover, is constantly threatened and depressed from above. What fractional concepts and convictions survive the teaching of the lower schools remain unelevated, unsupplemented and unsupported at the higher level, and tend instead to become blurred. Advanced and professional instruction, therefore, instead of nourishing faith, impoverishes it, and the higher strategic grades of vocation are placed largely in the hands of an intelligentsia in revolt against the Christian heritage.

Christian believers in earlier centuries anticipated this danger with greater wisdom than evangelical forces today. They founded their universities first—Oxford and Cambridge, Harvard and Yale; the colleges and public schools were their offspring. The universities supplied the faculties which in turn influenced every village and hamlet of the nation. The plain fact is that if Christianity does not shape the university world, the university world will always frustrate the climaxing influences of Christian social ethics; if education at the top is hostile or indifferent to the Christian outlook, the expansion of Christian doctrine and life through all the gradations of society is hindered. This will be increasingly true in the coming generation when collegiate and university enrollment will be greatly multiplied.

Evasion Of The Facts

Modern education is evasive about the facts of the history of religion. It not only shies away from spiritual decision, but it evades the teaching of the facts of religion and morality. Faith has everything to lose, doubt has everything to gain, by the suppression of those facts. Faith has everything to gain, doubt has everything to lose, by the impartation of those facts. I do not say that the public schoolroom should be used to enlist students in this or that church or denomination or religion; the wall of separation between church and state is too precious a heritage of democracy to see it thus endangered. But the students will come from our classrooms with one creed or another, or they have not been challenged much. And an American classroom that yields irreligious students, and ignores the facts of the Hebrew-Christian religion and its heritage, is neither the friend of democracy nor the foe of totalitarianism.

Our Christian Duty

What do we say then of Christian duty—of the responsibility of devoutly committed believers—in education? We must bear our witness in this as in all spheres of life and culture, even if the penetrations are but partial. We must remember that the vision for private colleges and universities has been predominantly spiritual and Christian. We must remember, too, that public education in this land does not belong to the secularists. And while the Living God doubtless chooses a remnant, he is not on that account the private property of some one church or denomination; he has a word for the public, and for public education as well. We do not deny the secularists their right to found and support secular schools, but we do challenge their right to capture the public schools of the nation for their partisan ends. The Harvard Report confessed that public education today has no unity, no goal. We must sound the alternative of a unified and purposive education in the school districts in which we pay taxes, for it is to the people, and not to the educators alone, that our public schools are answerable. We must not surrender our public schools needlessly to the spirit of the age. If we establish parochial schools, it will be as Protestants, not because public education free of ecclesiastical control is to be condemned, but because education with no concept of enduring truth and of fixed goals perverts our children; it cannot even vindicate the permanent validity of democracy. And we must train our youth for the professions, particularly for the teaching profession, whose sense of mission seems now on the wane. We do not covet for them an artificial confession of Jesus Christ that narrows the human intellect and the range of knowledge, for true faith is expansive and integrative of the whole of life. For life in this time of tyranny and trouble they require an education that not only plumbs the doubts, but emerges to a faith and resultant philosophy of life that focuses and sharpens the perspective of man and society on the eternal polestar of history—the Living God.

END

Preacher In The Red

WHAT—NO HANDS?

I have but recently taken charge of this new pastorate. Since arriving I have been subject to many requests for “hand-outs” and have been inclined to help all and sundry. I have, however, been warned by my Church Board to use discretion in this indiscriminate giving, much of which is mistaken charity.

As yet, I do not know the members of my Board too well. The other day I was walking along the street when I saw a laborer coming towards me with his hand held out. For the first time I thought I would follow the advice of my Church officials. Consequently, I ignored the proffered hand, and went on my way but not without certain qualms of misgiving.

Imagine my consternation the following Sunday morning, when one of the Church officials met in the Church vestibule, and asked me why I snubbed him on the street. “Did you think I was a hobo?” he asked.

That was the first time, and I expect it will be the last time that I shall ignore the proffered hand of a stranger without proper investigation. Am now awaiting repercussions.—The REV. ERNEST BARRATTE, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada.

For each report by a minister of the Gospel of an embarrassing moment in his life, CHRISTIANITY TODAY will pay $5 Cupon publication). To be acceptable, anecdotes must narrate factually a personal experience, and must be previously unpublished. Contributions should not exceed 250 words, should be typed double-spaced, and bear the writer’s name and address. Upon acceptance, such contributions become the property of CHRISTIANITY TODAY. Address letters to: Preacher in the Red, CHRISTIANITY TODAY, Suite 1014 Washington Building, Washington, D.C.

An address by the Editor of Christianity Today in an International Christian Leadership panel with Dr. R. W. White, president of Baylor University, Texas, and Gen. W. S. Paul, president of Gettysburg College, Pennsylvania, presided over by Senator Ralph E. Flanders of Vermont, in the Mayflower Hotel, Washington, D.C., Feb. 7, 1957.

Cover Story

Incense and Salt

Western Society—particularly that of the United States—prides itself on its scientific agnosticism. But the “scientific” attitude of the ordinary layman is in no way like the attitude that has accounted for the advances made by the physical sciences in the past few decades. His agnosticism is not the questioning of the seeker, but the prejudicial disbelief of the skeptic. As a scientific agnostic, he is only playing a part, and one he understands no better than the football hero acting Socrates. The skeptic who prides himself on his scientific knowledge usually has no conception of the scientific method, but credits himself with knowledge of science simply because he uses its fruits in his daily living. He usually conceives of agnosticism as something like the viewpoint of a sophomore from Missouri. And, finally, he is quite capable of straining at religious gnats while swallowing technicological camels.

Beyond Dogmatism

There was a time when scientific men were likely to claim for their science the answers to all questions, or to discount any questions for which their science gave them no answers. But that was in the adolescence of science. Now that the physical sciences have reached the maturity that sees itself in proportion, more and more top-ranking scientists are convinced and outspokenly religious men. They seek in their own field only the knowledge that is inherent in that field, and know that there are realms to which their science gives no entry. As the social sciences reach the same kind of maturity, their top-ranking men will be found, no doubt, claiming for their own fields of interest only such things to which they actually do pertain.

To the usual layman, the scientific attitude is one of disbelief, but the true scientist is actually a man who believes any possibility until it is carefully ruled out. The skeptic pre-judges. The scientist suspends judgment. Far from being a doubter, he is a believer, albeit a cautious one. He may be a questioner, but his question is “what is the truth?” and he looks for the truth into whatever unlikely corners he may be led. Scientific discoveries are made by the painstaking examination of the most far-fetched hypotheses. To the scientist, anything can be true, and thus must be tried. Any other attitude would preclude all discovery, except by sheer accident. The real scientist attempts, above all else, to be an unbiased man, at least in so far as his science is concerned. He must not even allow himself to be biased in favor of his own working hypotheses. It is a point of honor with him never to claim knowledge that he does not have, whether that knowledge be negative or positive.

This is science in its mature state, and this is the stature and attitude of the scientist, by his own ideal,—a far cry from the layman exercising what he considers to be “scientific skepticism” and from the megalomania of the partially informed.

Beyond Skepticism

But true agnosticism also has nothing to do with prejudicial skepticism. A man is not an agnostic simply because he rejects certain religious dogmas which he finds unappealing or distasteful. Agnosticism is never so easy, so simple, nor so self-serving as that. The true doubter is one who, hearing news reports, or the expert opinions which rain down on us as the ashes of Vesuvius rained upon Pompeii, says, “Is this fact? or opinion? or prejudice? or propaganda?” In short, the agnostic greets every pronouncement, from no matter how official or awesomely professional a source, with three questions: Is this the truth? Is it all the truth? Is it more than the truth? An agnostic is not so much a man who doesn’t believe in Santa Claus as one who doesn’t believe in oracles.

Beyond Agnosticism

Agnosticism has been put in cold storage for generations by being confined to religion (where it is pointless) and thus kept isolated from politics, economics, education, social welfare, international relations, and community gossip—all places where it might render invaluable service to the state and the individual. We have, as a culture, developed a supreme and unquestioning faith in man and an impudent doubt of God. Do not the gentiles the same? But the present need is to combine a real love of our fellow men (a very different thing, and still in short supply) with a healthy skepticism about their perfection, moral or intellectual.

Agnosticism in religion is pointless because religion, like love, cannot be other than a matter of faith, anyhow. Here some sort of commitment has to be made, and without proof, even though it is best aided by the intelligence. Love that waits for proof is unlove, and the rejection of all creeds is a creed-of-rejection.

But the very man who struts his doubt of the tenets of the ecclesiastics will give blind assent to the tenets of the illuminati. The man who jests at the Law handed down from Sinai or the Grace handed down from Calvary will clasp to his bosom the wisdom handed down from a bureaucracy, or a philosophy, or a public lobby.

The man unmoved by the language of religious devotion will genuflect at the jargon of a technology. The man who looks down his nose at a religious explanation of his origin will meekly bow his neck to the yoke of any one professional explanation of his nature. Parents who refuse to indoctrinate their children religiously will rear them according to their own indoctrination in some infallibly-pronounced theory of child-training. The contradictions of the Judeo-Christian Scriptures are cited against their validity, but year after year philosophic and social and psychologic pronouncements contradict one another in bewildering succession, yet men’s faith in them remains unshaken.

Beyond Credulity

Is ours an agnostic society? And is the scientific approach the pathway of our culture? Hell, no! And hell is precisely the right word, for the pathway we really march runs through a hell of bewildering credulity for many and conflicting gods, an inferno of frustrating strain in trying to live by a thousand creeds. When intellectual enlightenment casts away religion, except as social convention, superstition in a new guise replaces it with the weight of many strata of religions called by new names.

Man doesn’t presently suffer so much from lack of belief as he does from belief in the wrong things, from reliance on gods that constantly betray him. The sickness of our society may well be chiefly nausea that result from swallowing too many things whole, in too rapid succession, without even the preservative and flavor of a healthy grain of salt!

The sore need now is not only for a new birth of religious credence to stabilize and keep sane a rising religious sentiment, but for the unlocking of agnosticism from its ecclesiastical prison, for its release into secular affairs. God, however he has been understood throughout the ages, has always been a jealous God, which only means that he has been a logical God. Any renewed belief in God has to include the thing he has in all religions demanded: disbelief in all rival godlets.

We should bring down the poor scientists and technologists from the Olympus to which we have forcefully elevated them, that they may simply work their own works in their laboratories, human and fallible and helpful as they really are. We should bring the social scientists down from Sinai, where the best of them never desired to be, and put them to work among men, in full recognition of the inevitable incompleteness of their knowledge, and of their own inevitable partaking in the weaknesses among which they work. For if the world ever has found or ever shall find a truly saving knowledge, it will come from beyond human intelligence, and it will be spiritual in nature. If the world has ever had, or ever does have, a saviour, he may be a man, but he must also be God.

Anything less than that demands the exercise of a healthy agnosticism. Any voice less than God’s demands the test of the three questions: Is it the truth? Is it all of the truth? Is it more than the truth? The world suffers enough, unavoidably, from human sinfulness. This much at least we can do to rid it of the primacy of the doctrinaire, the megalomaniac, and the demagogue.

END

Out of

Eternal

Dawn

came

the

Lamb,

To stride across the lightless wastes of temporality; Deeper were his footprints and bloody when he walked into

the

Valley

of the

Shadow

to die;

but yet

to live

again

and

rise

into

the

Dawn

leaving in his wake a lighted trail to his eternal home

GARY YOUREE

Mrs. Edward A. Heffner grew up on the campus of one of America’s foremost medical schools and married a medical student in his sophomore year. Now a priest of the Episcopal Church, ordained in 1948, her physician-husband practices his ministry full-time and his medical specialty (ophthalmology) part-time in Ellsworth, Kansas. Mrs. Heffner is author of The Way of Light, Intercession, With All Our Hearts, a devotional speaker and the mother of four children as well.

The Coming Great Church

A significant book that has escaped conservative critical appraisal is The Early Church and the Coming Great Church (Abingdon, 1955) by John Knox, professor of sacred literature at Union Theological Seminary, New York. The author searches for a historical basis upon which to build and model the coming great church. The book takes on added significance in light of the September (1957) conference of the World Council of Churches on “The Nature of the Unity We Seek.”

The main thesis is that the united church of tomorrow cannot be modeled after the first-century church but must find its prototype in the Catholic movement of the second century. While Knox fully recognizes the importance of the life and faith of the church, his great concern is with its form and structure. He maintains that the church must be united in form as well as in spirit, and that all must participate in this comprehensive and fundamental structure (pp. 135, 136). The basic organizational structure finds expression in the historic episcopate, which the author insists must be fully accepted if Christendom is to be united (p. 142).

Diversity And Division

Professor Knox despairs of finding the model for the coming great church in the primitive church of the first century because of its alleged diversity and division. He marvels that it has ever been pictured as a model of unity. He claims that “there was wide diversity in both cult and faith, and signs of tension and of actual division, both within and among congregations” (p. 13). Yet he seems to contradict the existence of wide diversity of faith with this statement, “Thus, the common faith of early Christianity involved a considerable measure of agreement not only as to the significance of the event and the meaning of the community but also as to the nature and role of the person: Jesus was Lord and Christ” (pp. 68, 69). Consistency of thought does not characterize the book, when one section speaks of wide diversity of faith and another of considerable measure of agreement in the common faith of the early church.

Apparently the author is convinced that the first century lacked visible and outward unity, but he acknowledges the existence of inward unity. “The acceptance of the New Testament as our only authority—and as an adequate authority—has the effect of making us, to be sure, inescapably aware of our inward unity, but at the same time it confirms our more outward differences and divisions” (p. 134). Throughout the book complaints appear that in the early church there was no “comprehensive organization,” no “organic union,” no “inclusive and centrally administered organization,” no “one visible institutional church united under hierarchy or council.” To Knox no real union can exist without a comprehensive organization under control of a hierarchy or council.

Shared Life

Two chapters develop the theme that the early church was conscious of its own identity within a movement. The author writes, “This deeper identity of the churches, and therefore this deeper unity of the church, had a double character and ground. It had an empirical basis in a shared life and a more ideational basis in a shared faith” (p. 43). Great stress is placed upon the “event,” which is the coming of the Spirit. This seems of more importance than the advent of the person of Christ. The significant event was that “a new Spirit had come; a new love had been given; a new communal life had been brought into existence.… To share in this Spirit, this love, this life, was to belong to the church” (p. 62). More important than the advent of Christ there looms the event of new life entering into the community.

Jesus And The Event

The place that Jesus will possess in the coming great church is of utmost importance. For John Knox the historical person Jesus will occupy a subordinate place. The community and the event are of more importance. Actually, they give significance to the person of Jesus. Knox states that the person “was subordinate to the other two in the sense that the terms in which he was first defined were terms provided by the event and the community respectively and constituted hardly more than a reassertion of the empirical values that the event and the community had proved to have” (pp. 68, 69).

Jesus continues to be a symbol. The name of the person symbolizes the significance of the event and the church finds it impossible to minimize that significance (p. 80). Knox goes along with the World Council of Churches on the requirement of belief in “Jesus Christ as God and Saviour” not because it is a characteristic biblical statement nor because it is theologically adequate but because the name is a mere symbol of the significance of the event. The event and the church give significance to Jesus and not Jesus to the event and the church.

Apparently what Knox calls the event signifies more to him than the historical person Jesus. He writes that the event was the real ground of belief that Jesus was the Christ; the event was regarded as eschatological not because Jesus was believed to be the Christ, but rather Jesus was called Christ because he had been the decisive center of what was empirically realized to be the eschatological event (p. 70). To say Jesus was “Christ” was to say something about the event (69). The Christological question need not be construed as a question about the person; it can just as appropriately be thought of as a question about the event or community (pp. 65, 66). More startling is his statement that, “He is believed to overcome the world, ‘condemned sin in the flesh’ because the new community in principle overcame sin and broke the power of sin. He is believed to have ‘tasted death for every man’ because the community finds itself walking in newness of life. He is the ‘Savior’ because the event proved to be in fact the saving event and the community the saving community” (p 73). The creative power of the community receives the emphasis while Christ is reduced to a mere symbol.

What is this wonderful and significant event that overshadows the person of Jesus? Knox writes that “the event was, in its final issue, the coming of the Spirit” (p. 55). “The living reality of this Spirit was the real ground of the resurrection faith. To know the Spirit was to know Christ, and in the most vital parts of the New Testament the terms can be used almost interchangeably” (p. 61). Obviously he does not have the third person of the Holy Trinity in view. The Spirit seems rather to connote a new love and a new life as he writes, “to share in this Spirit, this love, this life, was to belong to the Church.” Where does this leave the person of Christ and what is his significance for the future?

Catholic Prototype

As Professor Knox would have it, the Catholic movement of the late second century is the great prototype of the modern crusade for unity (p. 17). This movement assertedly achieved a greater measure of sound unity than the early church. Knox states that the early Catholic movement had the same goal in view and was actuated by strikingly similar inner motivations and outward pressures (p. 84). There is no claim that perfect outward unity was achieved; nevertheless, it is stated, “it brought the church a larger measure of outward unity than it had before or than it had since” (p. 129). The unity of the first century was that of life and faith; the unity of the second century laid emphasis on form and common structure (p. 133).

Knox often draws back with one hand what he gives with the other. On page 17 he states that we must “invest the early Catholic movement with an interest and importance—yes, with an authority—which it deserves and which we must acknowledge, if we are ever going really to achieve the unity it sought.” Then cautiously he admonishes the present-day “Catholic” to acknowledge the soundness of the historic Protestant emphasis upon a distinction as regards normative values between the first century and any later century (p. 146). Something essential is lost, he feels, if the authority of the second century is raised to that of the first. He seems to compromise by implying that the second century should be recognized as authority for common forms of polity and worship and the first century as to life and faith (p. 149). He concludes that “the coming great church will be apostolic as well as Catholic, and Catholic as well as apostolic” (p. 155).

He insists that those who accept the sole normativeness of the New Testament are actually affirming the normativeness of certain decisions of the Catholic church. By accepting the canon and the ancient creeds we acknowledge the authority of the early Catholic Church. Here Knox follows the well known reasoning of the Roman Catholic Church that the church invested the Scriptures with authority. The historic Protestant position has maintained that the authority of the Scriptures does not depend in any degree upon the judgment of the church nor does her sanction give them validity. The Bureau of Standards may verify that a certain metal is gold, but such verification does not make the metal gold. The Scriptures are intrinsically authoritative and the church has recognized this on internal and external evidence. Again we accept the ancient creeds not on the authority of the second-century church, but because they conform to the Scriptures. Herein Knox reveals that he is far removed from the historic Protestant position.

Acceptance Of Episcopacy

The answer to unity of the church Knox finds in what he terms the historic episcopacy. He writes frankly, “I simply cannot conceive of the union of Christendom except on the ground of a polity which … involves the full acceptance of the historic episcopate” (p. 142); “I see no hope of a united church without the universal acceptance of episcopacy” (p. 143). He feels that on this matter we cannot agree to disagree. We may disagree on matters of faith and worship but not on form and polity!

However, the acceptance of the episcopate must not involve acceptance of either the fact of apostolic succession or any understanding of its meaning. The Catholic must not insist that the only sound reason for its acceptance is the belief that it was the primitive church order or that Jesus or the apostles instituted it (pp. 145, 146). The reviewer believes this to be divisive, for some in the “coming great church” would trace the order of the ministry and the episcopate to the authority of Christ and the Apostles while others would trace this to the authority of the second-century Catholic movement or to expediency. Within this “united” church a “Catholic” and a “Protestant” party would exist.

Evangelical Misgivings

The accusation has often been leveled at the evangelical that he has no concern for greater unity, that he is basically disruptive and incapable of seeking unity, and that he has no ground for opposition to elements of present-day ecumenicity. Let fairness prevail, however. If John Knox’s conception of Christ prevails, the evangelical is asked to give up his Lord and God for what he feels to be a superficial outward unity. Christ is not a symbol to which an “event” and a community have given significance. Christ is the event. He has created and given significance to the Christian community. The headship of Christ will not be easily relinquished.

On the basis of the views expressed by John Knox, the evangelical becomes apprehensive lest tradition share the authority of the Scriptures. Traditions of men cannot be allowed to supplement the Scriptures as a rule of faith and practice. The Catholic movement of the second century must be judged by Scripture. If the practice of the second-century church becomes normative, what about the church of the third, fourth, fifth and ensuing centuries? Giving weight to human tradition leads toward Rome.

The nature of the church looms large in the thought of the evangelical, and he has serious misgivings about the emphasis on the “institutional” character of the church. E. A. Litton (Anglican) wrote long ago, “Every theory of the Church, whether it profess to be Romanist or not, which teaches that its true being lies in its visible characteristics, adopts instinctively the Romish notes and rejects the Protestant” (The Church of Christ, p. 174). Edward Schweizer, writing in Theology Today, (January, 1957), says, “The Church is also most certainly not an ‘institution’ in the Roman Catholic sense, to which Christ has delegated certain of his tasks to a hierarchy of office holders who dispense his grace.”

Many evangelicals within historic denominations have not given up the Protestant position on the nature of the church. They do not feel that deeper unity will be achieved by an “inclusive and centrally administered organization.” They cling to the conception of the church taught by Christ and the Apostles.

We concur with Knox when he concludes that the coming great church “will not be the consequence of our shrewd planning, of our cautious concessions and careful compromises. It will be God’s building.…” (p. 153). Indeed, the evangelical rejoices in Christ’s statement, “I will build my church” (Matt. 16:18); and he knows that this church is built upon the apostles and prophets, Christ himself being the chief cornerstone.

We Quote

CECIL B. DE MULE

Distinguished Motion Picture Producer

… The decision we make at our desks in Hollywood may intimately affect the lives of human beings … throughout the world.… We are responsible as artists and as molders of men’s thoughts. We have a duty to our art and a duty to the audience for whom we make our pictures. We must keep those two responsibilities clearly in view all the time. If we do that we may be able to keep our industry free of the forces which threaten to corrupt it from within and the forces which threaten to cramp and stifle it from without. Our greatest danger from within the industry is the worship of the golden calf—the temptation to care nothing about what we put on the screen as long as it makes money.… Perhaps we think it is easier to draw a crowd by pandering to their lowest tastes than by inspiring their highest ideals.… But it is treason to the human spirit, and treason to the art we serve. And we are simply stupid if we have not learned that, in motion pictures, dirt is not necessarily pay dirt.… Who else in the world can go, as our pictures go, into every corner of the world—almost into every home and heart of the world? Who else—except the missionaries of God—has had our opportunity …?—In an address to 900 leaders in the motion picture industry at the Screen Producer’s Guild Milestone Dinner.

Ideas

Published In Grand Rapids

“Published In Grand Rapids”

There was a time not so long ago when the phrase, “Made in Grand Rapids,” referred unmistakably to furniture, and in this connection the trademark slogan was known the world over. Things have changed, however, and in the last 30 years metal products and automobile components have come to overshadow furniture as the Michigan city’s chief output, and the world’s home furnishings market has become concentrated in Chicago.

The city’s name nonetheless remains famous, but nowadays when one mentions “Grand Rapids,” especially in religious circles, the reference is more apt to bring to mind the publishing of religious books, a field that has assumed considerable importance in the last quarter century. This remarkable advance of Grand Rapids to the forefront of religious book publishing was dramatically illustrated recently when one of the most widely known of the city’s book publishing firms celebrated its twenty-fifth anniversary. Significantly, the same week’s issue of Publisher’s Weekly listed no less than 40 new titles issued by the firm that month, and it was cited that more than 1600 titles had been issued by that organization in the last quarter century. This would be considered a good record of productivity even for a large New York publisher. And speaking of New York, little do the big city’s editors and publishers realize the major role they played in building up Grand Rapids as a publishing center.

The growth of the Grand Rapids complex of book publishers has been noted by many religious journals all over the world, as evidenced by the increasing frequency of the name Grand Rapids in their book reviews and credit lines. Today in addition to Eerdmans, Zondervan and Baker, there are several smaller firms: Kregel, Society for Reformed Publications, Gospel Folio Press and more recently, Grand Rapids International. It is interesting to observe that the first four named all got their start in the second-hand theological book business (although today only two still have used-book departments). Their familiarity with rare and out-of-print religious titles gave them a shrewd sense of the demand for many works of a generation or two ago—titles conveniently neglected or completely forgotten by the New York publishing offices. The Grand Rapids publishers simply picked up the fumbled ball and ran with it, and they are still running hard. For the largest and most important (and certainly the most profitable) share of the Grand Rapids publishers’ output consists of reprints of old religious and theological works that had been allowed to go out of print many years ago. Most of these are conservative, evangelical works that appeared in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, roughly the period 1875 to 1925, but the major part of these titles had been issued just before the turn of the century. Today these reprints—“second-hand” publishing, if you will—constitute the backbone of a flourishing Midwest publishing industry that supplies millions of volumes each year to bookstores and schools all over the world. And lest it be said that the conservative Protestant market was a marginal one, and thus understandably passed up as hardly worthwhile, it must be noted that many of these warmed-up titles sell several thousand copies each year in the Grand Rapids reprint editions—very likely more than they sold when originally issued, in many cases. So successful has been this postwar religious reprint phenomenon that it has spread to other publishing centers like Chicago and even back to New York itself.

Several elements combined to make it possible for the Grand Rapids publishers to make a bumper crop out of the gleanings left in the fields by the established New York houses. Some of these causes were religious and academic, others technical. First and foremost was the tremendous upsurge in religious interest and study after World War II, which sparked the mushroom growth of hundreds of colleges, Bible schools and seminaries, many of them newly founded and conservative, evangelical in character. The lack of suitable textbooks for these institutions was aggravated by the now-apparent vacuum of evangelical scholarship in the last thirty or forty years, and the preoccupation of the New York publishers with liberal religious thought in that period. Faced with an urgent need for books as working tools, the schools cried for reprints of recognized works of a generation or two ago—books by such solid scholars as James Orr, Philip Schaff, J. P. Lange, Patrick Fairbairn, J. B. Lightfoot, Charles Hodge and others.

The publishers in Grand Rapids responded. They were able to do so with a sure feeling, for they were being deluged with requests for these out-of-print works. And they were able to do so with alacrity, because the new process of photo-offset printing had now been applied to books on a production basis, so that they had only to select a good, well-printed copy of an old edition and hand it to the printer. No longer was it necessary to have the plates or stereos available in order to print a new edition—a copy of the book was all that now was necessary; modern methods of photo-lith reproduction would do the rest. This was the other major factor in making Grand Rapids a reprint publishing center—although almost all of the actual printing of this type of work was being done in another Michigan center, Ann Arbor, as the direct result of government war work and research.

In addition to being able to reproduce these titles by the simple new photographic processes, the republication of most of these works was also, in most cases, without any need for payment of royalties. Almost all of the material was in the public domain, and the original publishers very rarely tried to enforce any reproduction rights. This tremendous advantage, coupled with the big saving of not having to set any type, has made this reprint publishing business particularly lucrative for the Grand Rapids houses and it has, in fact, constituted the backbone of their business.

It is amazing that none of the established New York houses sensed in time the reviving or continued demand for the better religious and theological titles of a generation or two ago. Some, indeed, were engrossed with the products of the new liberal theology. Others simply let their religious lists die out. But, back around the turn of the century, prominent New York imprints appeared on the title pages of volume after volume of sermons by Phillips Brooks, Louis Banks, Alexander Maclaren, H. B. Liddon, De Witt Talmage and others. Books by J. Gresham Machen, Benjamin B. Warfield, Philip Schaff, J. P. Lange, James Orr, B. F. Westcott, J. B. Lightfoot and others were issued in New York, even some time after that. Firms like Funk & Wagnalls, Dutton, Dodd Mead, Lippincott, Doran, Harper, Scribner, Longmans and Macmillan devoted a considerable share of their activities to the issuing of religious books of a conservative stamp. Today a great many of these same titles appear over Grand Rapids imprints. These include such large and important multi-volume sets as the Nicene and Ante-Nicene Father, Lange’s Commentaries, The Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge, Schaff’s History of the Christian Church, The Biblical Illustrator, Talmage’s Sermons and many others. The rights to some of these were purchased for a song; others, out of copyright, were simply adopted as out-of-print orphans and reprinted without any formal arrangements.

An examination of the catalogs of the Grand Rapids publishing houses shows a predominance of old titles in new editions, some of them billed as “Restorations,” others as “Reprint Classics,” and so forth. In some respects the reprint activity in Grand Rapids is not of recent origin. It started more than 30 years ago when the plates for several of the old George A. Doran properties were sold to Richard R. Smith, who resold most of them to William B. Eerdmans. These included such properties as The Expositor’s Bible, Maclaren’s Expositions and others still printed from the old plates. But the big boost came after World War II, when the advance of inexpensive offset printing and the entrance of new firms into the field multiplied the reproduction of old titles. No doubt some titles have been reissued that might just as well have been left out of print, but by and large the supplying of these reprints has been received and welcomed as a service by thousands of clergymen and hundreds of schools.

Several times in the last ten years it has seemed to appear, especially to book reviewers, that the reprint bonanza was about over, but each time there followed a new wave of warmed-up titles, many of them amazingly successful. True, and to their credit, most of the Grand Rapids publishers have also been issuing new titles in large numbers, even if in varying quality. But the outstanding characteristics of the religious publishing industry in Grand Rapids still are a conservative evangelical outlook, and the predominance of reprints. Certainly New York’s neglect of the conservative market, and its preoccupation with expressions of liberal thought, left the Grand Rapids publishers a golden opportunity to capture what is now a rapidly increasing market for books of a distinctively evangelical Christian viewpoint.

Mighty Potential Of New York Campaign

Speaking of Billy Graham’s mission in Madison Square Garden, one of CHRISTIANITY TODAY’S contributing editors, Professor Faris D. Whitesell, recently remarked that it carries the potential of being the greatest revival in all history. New York City is the first or second city in the world (depending upon the way suburban populations are computed), and is the center of the investment world and publishing business. With television and newspaper media open to the Gospel, and delegations coming by plane and train, the campaign makes Christianity an easy subject of conversation, will draw influential persons to the hearing of the Gospel, will encourage the clergy across the land to preach evangelistic sermons and to press the need for decision and will lift discouraged Christians to new confidence that God still works mightily in response to the prayers of his people.

The cause of evangelism in our day does not rest upon one person, as Billy Graham has so often pointed out. The Great Commission imposes the duty of Christian witnessing upon every believer. Let the Lord’s redeemed say so.

Apple PodcastsDown ArrowDown ArrowDown Arrowarrow_left_altLeft ArrowLeft ArrowRight ArrowRight ArrowRight Arrowarrow_up_altUp ArrowUp ArrowAvailable at Amazoncaret-downCloseCloseEmailEmailExpandExpandExternalExternalFacebookfacebook-squareGiftGiftGooglegoogleGoogle KeephamburgerInstagraminstagram-squareLinkLinklinkedin-squareListenListenListenChristianity TodayCT Creative Studio Logologo_orgMegaphoneMenuMenupausePinterestPlayPlayPocketPodcastRSSRSSSaveSaveSaveSearchSearchsearchSpotifyStitcherTelegramTable of ContentsTable of Contentstwitter-squareWhatsAppXYouTubeYouTube