Ours Is the Generation

In another generation it may be too late for salvage and perhaps even for salvation

Throughout the twentieth century the United States has faced the world with unabashed confidence in its own destiny, certain that American perspective and ingenuity could easily solve problems that trouble the planet. Suddenly, however, we have been plummeted into a decade of distressing doubts. Has the United States, perchance, passed its peak?

Trusted leaders in our generation have tampered with American ideals, and many of these ideals now are crumbling. What’s more, the liberal prophets have provided no real solutions to basic problems; rather, they have widened the conditions that make tyranny possible.

Many of today’s young Americans find the thought of Washington praying at Valley Forge a monstrous incongruity. Surmising that God has deserted the armed forces and the aging cause of the free world, they presume to escort him instead into psychedelic hangouts and into youthful pursuits of license.

As respect for law and order wanes, violence and crime rise to new heights even in cities that are “model” in rate of employment and civil rights. The Viet Nam “go slow” strategy looks more and more like a stalemate to be dumped into the scrawny lap of the United Nations. At the same time adolescent democracy struggles for survival in the grim shadows of Hanoi.

The political realm, unfortunately, has not been the only one to barter respected traditions in the mart of modern revisonism. Spokesmen for institutional Christianity have trusted political dynamisms for social betterment more than the Gospel of Christ; some even esteem revolutionary goals above the rule of law. Even divinity-school dropouts have ranged themselves alongside leaders of the new left in heralding a new materialistic utopia devoid of any spiritual redemption.

Today paganism is baring its vicious spirit as part of the contemporary American soul. Civil society seems to be falling apart. Mob violence and murder in Detroit in July, 1967, stunned Americans almost as deeply as had President Kennedy’s assassination in Dallas a few years ago. Andrew Glass and Jesse Lewis said of those four terrible days and nights of rioting and killing, burning and looting in America’s fifth-largest city: “It was a convulsion of the sort that Americans are accustomed to reading about in faraway places, such as Saigon, Santo Domingo, Nigeria, or Hong Kong” (The Washington Post, July 30, 1967). But now it had happened here, and before most Americans had taken the warnings seriously that indeed it might.

All the glib chatter about one world and a new global order born of secular idealism has clearly run its course; the illusion of world progress is kept alive now mainly by empty symbols like the United Nations, dollar grants of near-bankrupt governments, and breath-taking scientific discoveries that lend themselves as readily to evil as to good.

In the last third of the twentieth century we seem headed for more desperate changes than any generation has experienced since New Testament times. For all its highly touted ecumenical developments and means of mass communication, our generation may actually be the one that fails to communicate biblical Christianity effectively to its successors. Fortunately, its novel theologies (like those of Altizer and Hamilton) fade away after brief popularity. It is tragic, however, that one or another denominational publishing house will advance tens of thousands of dollars to attract such assaults on the historic faith. Desperately needed is not some new cultic aberration but a great spiritual awakening. It is essential and urgent that evangelicals speak with apostolic candor to the fast-disintegrating social scene.

“History has caught up with America,” writes Paul Gia Russo of Milwaukee, director of the Religion and Law Research Project. “Winds are wild! The odds for recovery seem already against us. But we need not, even now, descend into a sleepless night ruled by authorities and powers. The tide can be turned by men and women ready to go to their graves honorably before the eyes of God, courageous souls seeking fullness of faith, dedicated to good works, proving their lives. Stay with the ‘evangel’ that leaps over self-made deceptions back upon the greens of God-given realities where the winds blow free and eyes can still see the beauties of a wondrous world.”

The time has come to give new visibility to twice-born men and women who espouse New Testament perspectives. Their bold and fresh witness can shatter the modern misconception of the Church of Jesus Christ as a comfortable country club in suburbia, or a metropolitan building to which people commute once a week simply to hear a zealous orator, or a Geneva-based center of political cunning dominated by jet-set professionals.

Ours could be the generation in which evangelical Christians find one another across multitudinous fences and together gain fresh power and bold voice to confront the world in depth with the Gospel of the Risen One. Cannot evangelical believers, by acting together locally where the people are, find vital new ways of telling what Christ is doing among those who know and trust him—new ways of proclaiming the good news of salvation and of sharing the joy of personal obedience to the will of God? Cannot our ecumenical divisions and subdivisions, our denominational idolatries and diatribes, be forgotten long enough to allow the New Testament claim and the dynamic of God’s Spirit to occupy the forefront of such a witness?

Bad as the dark side of American life in the 1960s may be, it should not be thought to discount the reservoir of good that remains as a Christian inheritance, nor to minimize the power of biblical faith to renew a wayward generation.

Past decades have seen violence, too—the Homestead strike, forced occupation of industrial plants in depression days, operations of various crime syndicates, mass murders by Capone gangsters, repeated Ku Klux Klan lynchings, not to mention the murders of Lincoln and Garfield. Nor is paganism something recent in America. Already in the eighteenth century, the American university mind was captivated by the French Revolution and atheism was rampant.

What under these circumstances could have spared America from certain doom, could have shaped new opportunities of national usefulness, but the surprising grace of God? As a godly minority sank to its knees in spiritual intercession, God raised up Spirit-filled leaders to confront the citizenry with a call to repentance; the revival quickening that consequently swept over America then and in nineteenth century brought vast changes. Similar quickening today, if a spiritual vanguard is burdened for it, and if God be pleased, can shape a new and better America in this fast-waning twentieth century. Our churches must have an overwhelming rediscovery of Christ’s Gospel and its power; even evangelical congregations stand in need of a new Reformation. If the twentieth century is not simply to fade away, our generation must come to its spiritual rescue; in another generation it may be too late for salvage and perhaps even for salvation.

Without it, there is no life fit for eternity

For a number of generations now, the reality of a personal conversion to Jesus Christ, and the necessity of it, has been slipping from the consciousness of a large segment of the Christian churches. Universalism denies the need for conversion, while secular theology dilutes its meaning by broadening it to include the redemption of the secular social structures. Some ecumenical leaders speak of “education” or “social action” as an alternative to conversion and seek to muffle the particularism of the Christian faith in the multi-colored ecumenical blanket. Many church members are acutely embarrassed by conversion. Others are hostile to the concept.

At the Miami Assembly of the National Council of Churches, delegates and accredited visitors responded to an official questionnaire by placing three other goals before “conversion” in a listing of missionary priorities—“meeting acute human need,” “working under indigenous churches,” and “leadership training.” In a separate question they listed “conversion” together with “community and national problems” as next to the least important items. Only “preaching” was lower. The same survey also indicated that at least half of the 521 church leaders believed that a Hindu, a religious Jew, and a person ignorant of Jesus can achieve salvation.

Unfortunately, these views are not confined to the ecumenical leaders. A contextual evangelism that subordinates the proclamation of the Gospel to social action now claims advocates in most of the leading denominations, often within the department of evangelism itself. And on a broad base the idea of conversion is increasingly shunted aside by the more nebulous concept of mission, to the detriment of many pastors and their congregations.

In the early days of the Christian Church this was not so. Christianity burst upon the ancient world with a stirring demand for instant and total renunciation of sin and the worship of pagan gods and a permanent turning to Jesus Christ as Saviour and Lord. Conversion placed a man upon “the way.” It was a turning from the former life, marked by repentance, and a turning toward God, marked by faith. The process was essential. Jesus said, “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3), and Peter declared, “Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord” (Acts 3:19). The early Church strove to turn men from their sins in the light of the impending final judgment and the end of the present world order and to turn them to Jesus Christ as Saviour.

Moreover, this appeal was not only a characteristic of the Church; with the partial exception of Judaism, it was also a unique characteristic of the Church. In our century, ever since the publication of William James’s monumental Varieties of Religious Experience, which analyzed the phenomenon of conversion from the standpoint of the new discipline of psychology, many religious thinkers and psychologists have tended to view conversion as an element in the religious experience of all men. But this is inaccurate, and the early history of the Church refutes it. With very few exceptions, the popular religions of the ancient world were tolerant of all religious feeling. A Greek might worship Athena in Athens, Apollo at Delphi, Poseidon at Sunion, and Diana at Ephesus, or even all in the same city at the same time, and neither Athena, Apollo, Poseidon, nor Diana would be offended. A man’s pantheon could be as large as his piety. The nature of his religious feeling or a sense of gratitude for some particular favor might dispose him to give one deity a special prominence, as was often true in the worship of Mithras, Isis, Dionysus, Cybele, or the other beneficent deities of the mystery cults. But there was nothing exclusive in these religious systems. The genius of ancient religion lay in syncretism rather than in particularization. Consequently, there was no such thing as conversion in the normal Christian sense.

Socrates can be said to have favored some kind of conversion on the part of those who listened to him. But in Plato’s Apology he speaks of the afterlife either as dreamless sleep or as conversation with the wise men who have gone on before, never even hinting at the thought of rewards or punishment. And in its positive aspects, the life he advocates is little more than the pursuit of truth or virtue. There was also a case of a senator who converted from Christianity to paganism, saying: “O goddess, I have sinned: forgive me. I have returned.” But this happened after Christianity had made its impact, probably in the fourth century, and in obvious imitation of Christian terminology.

In Christianity, as in Judaism, conversion played an important and initiatory role. In one of the best studies of conversion in this early period, former Harvard professor A. D. Nock calls attention to this contrast between the pagan and biblical religions and writes of Judaism and Christianity:

Nothing in the dogmas of the ancient rivals to Judaism and Christianity can even begin to be called conversion in this sense.

This early awareness of the urgent need for conversion needs to be recaptured in the contemporary Church. This is so, not only because conversion has been an important aspect of the Christian proclamation historically, but also because the reality of conversion is closely tied to vital elements of Christian theology.

All non-Christian religions stand for the deliverance of man by man’s own efforts, whether by sacrament, esoteric knowledge, or moral attainments. In proclaiming the biblical revelation, Christianity stands for the unconditional renunciation of all human efforts at salvation and for absolute allegiance to Christ, who has opened the way to God by means of his death and resurrection. Christianity proclaims original sin, the total inability of man to please God apart from Christ, the work of the Holy Spirit in turning man to God, and unmerited salvation. Thus it also proclaims the need for conversion as the move by which one passes from all human attempts to achieve salvation to a resting in the efficacious and gracious acts of God. The doctrine of grace goes hand in hand with a firm understanding of conversion.

Moreover, Christianity teaches on the authority of Scripture that without conversion there is no new life. There is no knowledge of the Holy Spirit. And without a participation in the life of the Holy Spirit there can be no awareness of spiritual things. There can be no knowledge of one’s own nature in the sight of God, and no intimations of his purposes in the flow of human history. “The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Cor. 2:14).

This is not to say that conversion must follow a predetermined pattern. Personal conversions may be abrupt or gradual, quiet or emotional. The Apostle Paul and the Philippian jailer seem to have been converted instantly and with great emotion. Timothy, on the other hand, seems to have come to the fullness of belief quietly over a longer period (2 Tim. 1:5), and so have many leading figures of the Christian Church. The essential element is conversion itself. And conversion is determined, not by the mere act of turning, still less by fervor or by the speed at which the turn is made. It is determined by the uniqueness of what one turns from and of the Person, Jesus Christ, to whom one turns.

The problem with conversion today is not really an unusual problem. It is merely an acute one, and it is acute simply because it is found so extensively within the churches. Man is a religious being. He wants salvation. But man wants salvation without conversion. He wants to obtain the ultimate reward without relinquishing his past or present sin or forfeiting the sense of satisfaction that comes from believing he deserves God’s favor. None of the non-Christian religions confronts man at this point. Here Christianity does confront him. The demand is high. But for those who turn to Jesus, God promises the presence and help of the Holy Spirit in this life together with the life of the world to come.

DEATH TAKES A LEADER

The death of Dr. V. Raymond Edman, chancellor of Wheaton College, marks the close of a distinguished missionary career. His life spanned almost seven decades and left a sense of evangelistic urgency upon thousands who now bear their evangelical witness from Chicago to Calcutta. His missionary career in tropical Ecuador almost ended in 1928 when his physical condition sank so low that associates dyed Mrs. Edman’s wedding dress black for an inevitable funeral. But hundreds of special prayer meetings were held, and Edman recovered to serve later for more than two decades as president of America’s most prestigious evangelical college.

His emphasis in education was somewhat less academic than pietistic; some observers wished that Christ’s lordship as King of Truth might have gained as much visibility as his saviourhood as Mediator of Grace. But Edman served in an era in American life when neither emphasis found any haven in public education, and when even many church-related campuses sacrificed both. One thing those who knew Dr. Edman were never allowed to forget: The goal of Christian education is an evangelical mission in the world, and that mission must fail unless Christ’s saving grace is fervently proferred to men.

TIMES THAT TRY MEN’S SOULS

Jesus’ observation that God “sendeth rain on the just and unjust” alike took on somber significance last month as hurricane Beulah’s cloudbursts sent record floods coursing through the Rio Grande area of Texas and Mexico. The destructive hurricane left nearly fifty persons dead and thousands homeless and destitute.

For those who have suffered greatly through the ravages of wind and water there can be little easy comfort. Widespread destruction is a fearful thing, and such times strongly test the character of men. In Salfurrias, Texas, some responded to the disruption of normal life by looting flooded stores. But much more frequent were the acts of heroism and the deep stirrings of compassion that sent disaster supplies pouring into the area and opened American facilities to thousands of hard-hit Mexican families. For those untouched by the tragedy, hurricane Beulah voiced the need to cultivate such strength of character as will stand firm in times that try men’s souls.

MISSIONS AND MISSILES

President Johnson’s decision to build an anti-ballistic-missile system represents a staggering commitment. Those who feel the government should move decisively where freedom is imperiled will applaud the decision. Yet it also gives some pause. The economic effect will be felt for years to come. The announced price of $5 billion—surely a minimal figure—means another substantial increase in the national debt if the long-range Spartan and shorter-range Sprint missiles are to be poised in time to meet a Chinese nuclear threat.

It is too simplistic to suggest that this defensive step would have been unnecessary had the American Christian community not been so stingy in its missionary giving. Not all the world’s problems are the fault of the Church; the corruption of human nature lies at the heart of our global predicament. But there is a lesson for Christians nonetheless. American Protestants now spend annually in foreign missions about $200,000,000—less than is spent in the United States for chewing gum. A greater investment of our material resources in the spiritual plight of pagan lands may save our grandchildren from having to waste billions on the implements of war.

BISHOP PIKE SCORES A VICTORY

The Episcopal House of Bishops has erected new procedural roadblocks that make it next to impossible to try a man for heresy in the Episcopal Church. No longer are charges by three bishops sufficient to initiate heresy procedings. Changes in canonical law enacted by the Bishops and the House of Deputies last month at Seattle now require ten bishops to institute such action, after which their request must be approved by two-thirds of the House of Bishops before a heresy trial may be held. Passage of the new rules represented a victory for proponents of greater theological laxity over advocates of fidelity to the church’s creedal stance.

Bishop James Pike emerged the winner in his well publicized controversy with his colleagues. Not only was he satisfied by enactment of the stringent new heresy procedures, but he also succeeded in getting the Bishops to consent to the necessity of “due process of law” in censure cases. Censured by the House of Bishops last year for “irresponsible” flippancy, Pike complained that he was prevented at the time from presenting testimony in his defense. The amended censure procedure voted last month cast doubt on the validity of Pike’s censure and, in effect, enabled Pike to censure the Bishops for their improper procedure against him.

The ecclesiastical gamesmanship practiced by church leaders throughout the Pike affair has clearly been a strategy to prevent a heresy trial that could have resulted in condemnation of unorthodox views held by Pike and other top-echelon prelates. The wrist-slapping censure of Pike in 1966 was an attempt to placate theological conservatives whose financial contributions lagged in proportion to their discontentment with his doctrinal aberrations. The liberal leanings of the hierarchy were obvious in their affirmation of the 1967 report referring to heresy as “anachronistic,” and in their enactment of new procedures. Their actions obliquely suggest that church leaders inclined to follow Bishop Pike’s example of promoting views contrary to the creed of the church may now do so with virtually no threat of a heresy trial.

Perhaps a decisive confrontation between conservatives and liberals yet looms on the Episcopal horizon.

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