EVANGELICALISM’S ROOTS

I read with great interest the symposium on Mark Noll’s “The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind” in your August 14 issue. One of the most difficult points about this debate is finding an adequate definition for the term evangelical. I think it is more accurate to see contemporary American evangelicalism as coming specifically out of the revival tradition of the nineteenth century. If this is the case, the spiritual forebears of today’s “evangelicals” are not the Protestant Reformers, the Puritans, nor even Jonathan Edwards or George Whitefield. Rather, those spiritual ancestors would be nineteenth-century revivalists like Charles Finney, Jonathan Blanchard, and D. L. Moody. In this sense, the Princeton theologians of the nineteenth century, like Charles Hodge and B. B. Warfield, could not even be called “evangelical” since they vigorously opposed the revival preaching and theology of leaders like Finney.

If twentieth-century American evangelicalism is the descendant of nineteenth-century revivalism (as Harold Bloom suggests in his book “The American Religion”), it should be no wonder that it does not have a high regard for the life of the mind in the broad cultural sense. While nineteenth-century revivalists believed in educating people in the faith (they founded such institutions as Oberlin College, Wheaton College, and Moody Bible Institute), they also showed little or no interest in the broad cultural, artistic, and intellectual issues of their day except when these were seen as posing a direct threat to their Christian beliefs (i.e., Darwinism). In such cases, their interests were more to refute error than to engage in intellectual debate. In the final analysis, Professor Noll may be lamenting the loss of a view of the “mind” that never existed. One can debate whether this was a positive or negative development. It should, however, not be a surprise, much less a “scandal.”

– Pastor Paul Leggett

Grace Presbyterian Church

Montclair, N.J.

Your “Scandal?” continued the arrogant bias toward, and neglect of, the holiness movement that pervaded Mark Noll’s “The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind.” Your forum featured an old boys club of four white males of the Calvinist Reformed tradition. Why did you not include a holiness scholar, such as Cheryl Sanders, James Earl Massey, Mildred Wynkoop, or Donald Dayton? While many scholars and pastors in the holiness tradition are uncomfortable being called evangelicals, if your forum participants are going to label us as a “reactionary” movement within evangelicalism, please include our scholars in the discussion. Perhaps our ability to combine the mind and Holy Spirit might teach the Reformed tradition a needed lesson.

– John E. Stanley

Mechanicsburg, Pa.

Your forum on the state of the evangelical mind with Noll, McGrath, Bock, and Mouw is classic. I, too, am concerned about the “overstatement, rhetorical overkill, prooftexting, and sloganeering” demonstrated by the “populist, anti-intellectual Christian remnant.”

However, I think it needs to be stated that the lack of humility and self-criticism Mouw identifies in distorted grassroots pietism can be found at times in the Christian academy as well. I wonder if it is not more displeasing to God when it is found in the academy since the offenders there are presumably smart enough to know better.

– Susan Breeding

Wheaton, Ill.

Would you please ask the participants, next time, to answer the questions you ask and not the ones they prefer to answer? Their answers sounded like those of politicians in TV interviews.

I would also like these scholars to consider the purpose of scholarship. Might not scholarship fall under the heading of the gift of teaching that Paul mentions God gave to the church for the purpose of edifying the saints so that the saints could perform the work of the ministry? Several participants mentioned the need for scholars to get closer to laypeople if scholars want laypeople to appreciate their work. However, laypeople will not appreciate or respect scholarship that does not give them the tools essential for the work.

– Roger D. McKinney

Anadarko, Okla.

PROZAC: TREATING CAUSE OR EFFECT?

– Thanks for your article on Prozac [“The Gospel According to Prozac,” Aug. 14]. I think science has done well to pinpoint the lack of seratonin as a cause of depression. But I wonder if it is the cause or the effect? Could our attitudes cause a drop in seratonin, which, in turn, results in a slowdown of our mental energy, resulting in further bad attitudes? It seems to me that in this tangled web of body, mind, and soul, cause and effect are difficult to discern. How do we know when we are treating the symptom, and when we are treating the disease?

I also wonder to what degree depression should be regarded as a disease afflicting individuals as opposed to a malaise infesting society. Has not our overdependence on automobiles, television, and PCs served to alienate us from each other and remove us from the world of fresh air and exercise (was there ever really a time when most people worked out of doors)? Surely lack of social intercourse, exercise, and fresh air must contribute to depression.

Though I expect no simple answers, I must embrace the simple belief that if we put faith first (as individuals and as a society), healing will come.

– Greg Fleming

Hollywood, Fla.

The advent of Prozac raises a similar question posed by many in the backwash of twentieth-century technology. Just because something can be done, does it follow that it should be done? Likewise, just because Prozac is available and produces dramatic results emotionally and spiritually, does it follow that it should be hailed as God-given? Archibald Hart would have us think so, since God created the substances that go into Prozac, and modern science put them together. But this is an oversimplification. Furthermore, Prozac’s effectiveness in no way proves God’s sanction of its use.

David Wolfe goes so far as to say that in order for us to “be better equipped to do God’s will,” we must “function optimally.” Tell that to the apostle Paul, who thrice pleaded with God for his thorn in the flesh to be removed. Exactly where does the sufficiency of God’s grace fit into Prozac’s equation?

God’s ultimate purpose is to conform his children into the image of the Son he loves. No doubt this is a difficult and painful process when we honestly compare ourselves to him. In our broken humanity, we cry out for that quick fix; we all want to numb our pain. But as C. S. Lewis said, “Pain is God’s megaphone.” When we stop at nothing to get rid of our pain, we tear this attention-getting device from his hands. With the exception of those who truly have organic disorders, Prozac only gives us one more mask to wear.

– Betsy Thomas

St. Louis, Mo.

The whole theme seems to be that Christians must make a choice between Prozac (and other medications) and God. Why can’t God work for us through Prozac?

– William Hodge

Portland, Conn.

The professional credentials of the authors are not stated, but they do not appear to have had much personal experience in prescribing antidepressant medications. Otherwise, they might not have reproduced the quotations that mistakenly consider these medicines as “feel better drugs,” confusing them with “tranquilizers.”

Antidepressants don’t make you “feel” better by chemically altering reality; they make you “get” better by forcing the body to restore or replenish missing natural chemicals not available in sufficient quantities for the depressed brain.

The hardest part in prescribing antidepressants is to get patients who need them to take the medication long enough (usually 2 to 6 weeks) for them to begin to see any results. These drugs themselves do not relieve depression; not until they accomplish a buildup of deficient natural chemicals in the depressed brain do depressed individuals begin to experience relief.

God, in mercy to a suffering race far from Eden, has provided chemical remedies for relief of illness. Followers of the Christ who maintains his children’s health with daily doses of carbohydrate, protein, and lipids; who keeps them conscious and able to speak his praises by providing oxygen mixed with nitrogen; and who provides “wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face to shine” should not be surprised if he is also merciful to ill saints and sinners alike with chemical treatments like penicillin, insulin, and Prozac.

– John B. Hoehn, M.D.

Walla Walla, Wash.

A STANDING OVATION FOR LARRY CRABB

Larry Crabb’s belief that elevates the “Christian community, not the antiseptic world of a private-practice therapist” to its rightful place of psychological healing/ministry should not surprise us. Lovers of Scripture cannot help but notice the primacy of the church in God’s heart. [“Putting an End to Christian Psychology,” Aug. 14].

I have seen Crabb’s conviction at work in three arenas. One, I heard him speak of these “central convictions” two decades ago in college and then met people in his own community who validated his work in his own church. I was, literally, his and his church’s mailman before he became so well known. Two, for nine years I’ve been a prison chaplain. No hands could count the deeply troubled men I’ve seen touched and changed by the transforming power of the gospel declared and demonstrated by caring everyday servants in the context of our Christian community. Third, I experience it every week when I join God’s people at my church. Don’t we all!

A standing ovation to Larry Crabb for bringing us home. Shame on us for trusting another way than God’s.

– Rev. John G. Fields

Clermont, Fla.

Bravo, psychologist Larry Crabb! Crabb is saying the same things that many members of the Fellowship of Merry Christians-clergy, health professionals, and laypeople-have been saying for 10 years.

We know that Jesus Christ and his disciples healed hundreds of depressives and emotionally disturbed people 2,000 years ago, and the church grew and flourished. In this century, however, the church has allowed mental health “experts” to usurp the responsibilities of the clergy and gifted lay healers (many of whom are hostile to religion) in matters of mind and soul. Is it any wonder that so many churches are stagnant and in decline?

Instead of self-analysis, self-esteem, and psychobabble, why not try continual rejoicing and prayer, a large dose of good cheer, humor, and laughter, and some healthy physical recreation and work on behalf of others?

Humor, like love, can do wonders for anyone’s mental health.

– Cal Samra, President

Fellowship of Merry Christians

Portage, Mich.

I applaud wholeheartedly the issues Crabb raises regarding traditional therapy, and, with qualifications, his assertion that therapy belongs back in the churches. Like Crabb, I have been clear on my complaints and vague on answers. However, Crabb’s framing of the issues continues to gel, and he may provide a critically important springboard for an honest movement that explores new paradigms and starting points.

– Douglas Wever

Daytona Beach, Fla.

The problem is not the location of the counseling nor even the credentials of the counselor, but it is instead the doctrinal base of the counseling. Crabb continues to promote the heretical doctrine of Christian psychology in viewing the fundamental problem of mankind as lack of relationship, lack of significance, lack of self-esteem, lack of meaning, and so on. The Bible says all too clearly that our problem is rebellion against a holy Creator who demands payment for sin. It is equally clear that the one and only answer to that problem has been provided only by that God-man who went to the cross to make atonement for our sin.

When the diagnosis is wrong, the counsel that follows will be wrong, whether given by the therapists or by Crabb’s “elders.”

– Carol Tharp, M.D.

Winnetka, Ill.

I was very glad to read the article. As an answer to prayer, finally some are speaking out truthfully, although I think Larry Crabb didn’t go far enough.

– John Schaefer

Herndon, Va.

* I think Crabb is way off base. There are excellent Christian psychological services—for example, Minirth-Meier New Life Clinic. In today’s times, this ministry is needed.

– J. Finney

Rochester Hills, Mich.

The interview with me represented my thinking reasonably well, given the limits of a short-answer interview format. But the interview contents did not at all support the front-cover billing (“Larry Crabb’s Antipsychology Crusade”) nor the title given to the interview (“Putting an End to Christian Psychology”). I am neither crusading against psychology nor do I want to put an end to Christian psychology.

In the interview, I state, “There is obviously a need for professional counselors for hurting folks who cannot find the kind of help that should be available elsewhere.” I also state my agreement that psychotherapy has worked for many people and then point out that what was effective may work even better if done by shepherds in Christian community. My central thesis is that when good counselors do good work (and many do), they come closer to what the Bible calls shepherding than to our culture’s idea of scientifically based expert treatment.

Positioning me as an antipsychology crusader who wants to end Christian psychology is badly inaccurate and places me in company where I don’t belong. I am a friend of Christian counseling; I am not part of the antipsychology movement; and I am grateful for the many godly men and women who faithfully represent Christ in their professional counseling.

– Lawrence J. Crabb, Jr.

Morrison, Colo.

THE “EVANGELICAL MIND”

If Michael Maudlin thinks that “it is not unusual for a new Christian to encounter” works by Packer, Stott, Lewis, Schaeffer, and others, he needs to get out more (Inside CT, Aug. 14)! While this is probably true for many of CT’s readers (it was for me), it’s hardly “usual” for the thousands who become new Christians each week all over the English-speaking world.

I am thankful for the niche that CT fills, but not all Christians are drawn to, understand, or benefit from the styles and approaches of these authors, CT, or those like them. Keep filling that niche, but realize that not every evangelical is interested in the “evangelical mind.”

– James P. Rigney

Picayune, Miss.

THE DEATH PENALTY: EXECUTION ODDS

In your capital punishment article, August 14 [“A Matter of Life and Death,” News], the author seems to take a strong noncapital-punishment stance, primarily on the basis that the death penalty is not a deterrent. The fact is that our fallacious and awkward lawyer-saturated system of justice has almost totally removed the reality of the death penalty. How can you say we have a “death penalty” when only 288 executions have occurred in the U.S.A. since 1976, while murders go on at over 10,000 per year nationwide? On an annual basis, that is about 1.6 executions per 1,000 murders. With those kinds of odds, why should anyone fear the death penalty?

– William E. Shaver

Houston, Tex.

NOT LEGALISM, BUT GRACE

I quite agree with Philip Yancey in “Be Ye Perfect, More or Less” that Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount was intended not to burden us with more legalism but to push us resolutely toward grace [Books & Culture preview, July 17]. This is so rarely said. I still recall my repulsion as a boy in Sunday school hearing the words, “If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell” (Matt. 5:29-30, NIV). God meant business, I was warned.

Of course he does, but not usually the way we think. And it finally occurred to me, after I noticed so few maimed Christians, that either no one took him seriously or else I had misunderstood.

If Jesus was not exaggerating, what did he mean? Precisely what he said. If eye or hand could cause you to sin, the solution would be simple: gouge it out or cut it off. But the “if” is impossible. My eye does not do what it wants; it does what I want. Neither eyes nor hands nor any other body parts can cause you to sin; rather, it is you who cause them to sin. Sin cannot be blamed on stray limbs. Sin involves heart, mind, and soul, and none of these can be severed from me. They are me.

Our condition is not merely so dire that we must resort to self-mutilation for salvation. It is far more desperate than that. No washing, no surgery, no exorcism, nothing can remove the stain of sin from the soul itself. Nothing, that is, but the blood of Jesus. The Sermon on the Mount proves that all struggles to justify oneself are hopeless, not in order to drive us to despair, but to drive us to Christ.

– Justice Nathan L. Hecht

The Supreme Court of Texas

Austin, Tex.

HOME SCHOOLING IN COURT

Your article on home schooling gives an erroneous perception about the nature and number of home-schooling legal cases handled by the Home Schooling Legal Defense Association and the Rutherford Institute [“Home Schooling Grows Up,” News, July 17]. Each organization does a number of cases and handles a number of legal conflicts that never rise to the level of court to become a reported decision. HSLDA handles nearly 4,000 such legal conflicts exclusively for home schoolers every year.

The best way to gain an accurate understanding of the level of legal involvement by each of the organizations is to do a Westlaw computer search of all reported decisions. HSLDA or Michael Farris appears as counsel of record in 18 appellate decisions involving home schooling. In addition, we also have filed two friend-of-the-court briefs in cases we did not handle. No organization comes close in handling the volume of home-schooling cases, civil or criminal, handled by HSLDA.

– Michael Farris

Home School Legal Defense Association

Purcellville, Va.

MILITIA MEMBER NORM OLSON NOT GARBC

A letter to the editor in your September 11 issue alluded to the possibility that Norm Olson of Michigan Militia notoriety may be a part of our association. Such is not the case.

– Vernon Miller

Executive Editor of Publications

General Association of

Regular Baptist Churches

Schaumburg, Ill.

LAM AND CFC STILL “IN HARNESS”

Although your report on the Latin America Mission and Christ for the City is basically accurate [World Scene, July 17], I must object to your reporter’s misperception or infelicitous terminology. It would not have occurred to me when my children left home to attend college and to carve out careers for themselves to have used the term “spin-off” in connection with their departure.

Releasing institutions and other ministries to their own independent selfhood is not a new experience for LAM. There are more than a dozen entities, which, having been founded by LAM, are now autonomous partners with it in ministry, and are much stronger for it.

As a board member of both LAM and CFC, I can assure you that while mistakes have been made, and there may be differences of interpretation and methodology, they are largely generational differences, and both LAM and CFC are determined to stay in the harness together and to pull in tandem until their common goal of evangelizing Latin America is successfully accomplished.

– W. Dayton Roberts

Miami, Fla.

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Brief letters are welcome. They may be edited for space and clarity and must include the writer’s name and address. Send to Eutychus, Christianity Today, 465 Gundersen Drive, Carol Stream, IL 60188; fax: 708/260-0114. E-mail: ctedit@aol.com. Letters preceded by * were received online.

Copyright © 1995 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

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All natural. No additives. No preservatives. These labels on supermarket products promise us that we’ll eat pure, unadulterated food. What about consumers of the gospel overseas? Are they getting the pure, untainted message? Or are they getting a gospel loaded with American additives?

As I look back over nearly half a century of work in world missions, no question worries me more. My greatest worry is not about money for missions, people for missions, or the strategies and management of missions. It’s about the contents in the package we label the gospel—the cure for people’s sins—and whether we have administered the real medicine.

I once attended a study conference where missions scholars and executives wrangled for a weekend, trying to define the meaning of conversion. But I’ve never been to one where the gospel itself was addressed. We just assume we know. This can be a fatal assumption, especially for new missionaries.

Missions seminars come in 31 flavors, so to speak, but none of them focuses on the essential ingredients that make the “ice cream.” Missionaries sell 31 flavors of the gospel overseas. Some flavors are denominational, some are not, but that’s not the main issue.

In recent years, the uprising of consumers took dead aim on junk food: It looks good, tastes great, but—depending on the product—it either lacks essential nutrients, or it’s packed with harmful additives. So it is with the canned gospel we stack the shelves of the world with. It can be packed with unbiblical additives: various rules and traditions to keep. Or it can be seriously deficient in life-giving ingredients: cheap grace, no repentance, no biblical foundation.

The results of consuming either kind of canned gospel are disastrous. Some converts are swept up by legalism, perhaps living in constant fear that they will not be accepted by God and judged fit for heaven. Some live in a fool’s paradise, shallow in their commitment to Christ.

It is imperative that we do what the apostle Paul demanded of the Corinthians: Test yourselves, examine yourselves, lest you fall under judgment.

Our zeal for self-judgment has never matched our zeal for getting converts. We’ve been too busy counting people who raise their hands to ask them if they really understood the gospel. Have our converts lasted? Where are the marks of legitimate conversion and discipleship? What kind of churches have we spawned? Do our overseas churches simply mimic American models, not just in worship styles, but also in the theology of the gospel they teach?

The Western missions establishment works itself into a lather about strategies (both at home and overseas), but seems woefully reticent to talk about theology.

“What is the gospel?” is a theological question. But theology is now the orphaned child in world missions. Instead, we demand missionaries who are experts in as many skills as there are brands of breakfast cereal.

Our critical need is for people who have grappled with the essentials of the Good News that Christ came to save sinners for an eternal life and relationship with the living God. We do not have to lay aside our denominational flavorings, but we do have to be 100 percent certain that the gospel we teach and preach is neither deficient in essential doctrine nor adulterated with American additives.

How we answer the question “What must I do to be saved?” is the difference between heaven and hell for nonbelievers. We must not give an American evangelical cultural answer—where getting saved often sounds like placing your order on the cable-TV sales channel—but a rigorously biblical answer.

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By Jim Reapsome, executive director of the Evangelical Missions Information Service and editor of Evangelical Missions Quarterly and Pulse newsletter; adapted from Pulse (Feb. 4, 1994).

Copyright © 1995 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

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A local Christian television station hosted Hal Lindsey last spring for two evenings of lectures about his new book, “Planet Earth—2000A.D.” With chapter titles like “The Perilous Condition of the Human Race,” “The Rise of Deceiving Spirits,” and “The Coming Great Deception,” it is no wonder that, when the host opened the floor for questions, there was no want of inquirers:

– What leads you to believe that the Antichrist is alive, and in what part of the world is he living?

– Does the Bible specify any area of the world that will not be completely destroyed in the battle of Armageddon?

– What are some specific signs that believers can look for to distinguish Christ from the false prophets?

– What are your thoughts concerning crop circles and UFOs?

– Do you think the Antichrist will be completely human?

As planet Earth is poised on the threshold of a new millennium, and as global systems coalesce, there is rising speculation, and angst, among Christians as to what these changes might mean eschatologically.

Some of the beginning-of-the-end events Lindsey and others point to are difficult to ignore—no matter what end-times convictions you hold. For example, the proliferation of chemical and nuclear weapons sophistication on the part of terrorist groups (the “secret power of lawlessness” unleashed, 2 Thess. 2) really has transpired, as the subway sabotage in Japan has painfully revealed. The European Community really has become unified, to a degree, by means of the European Common Market and the Maastricht Treaty (the “revival” of the Roman Empire, the “ten toes/nations” in Daniel 7). At the same time, the economies of other nations have become inextricably linked through the recent ascendance of the World Trade Organization. Laws and standards for economic interchange now exist at the international level, to which all local laws must, in theory, submit (the consolidation of “buying and selling,” Rev. 13). On the technological front, global networking in cyberspace has thrust businesses and economies into a cryptographic “brave new world” (the “increase of knowledge” in Dan. 12) where, according to Howard Fineman (“Newsweek,” Feb. 27, 1995), “even nationhood itself can seem irrelevant.” Add to this Lindsey’s statement on TV last March that “the day of the terrorist has come” to be validated so horrifically by the Oklahoma City bombing in April, and it is no wonder that the eschatological preoccupations of many have intensified.

But these speculations have antagonized other sectors of contemporary evangelicalism. Wheaton College professor Mark Noll, for example, writes in his recent book “The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind” (Eerdmans) that modern-day end-times prophets tend to be “blown about by every wind of apocalyptic speculation,” even suggesting that they have become “enslaved to the cruder spirits of populist science.” These sentiments echo the thoughts of theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, who concluded, “It is unwise for Christians to claim any knowledge of the furniture of heaven or the temperature of hell,” and George Eckman, who wrote earlier this century, “Revelation is enough. Speculation is more than enough.”

The eschatological titillation of some has caused the disaffection of others and the confusion of many. How then are we to interpret the “signs of the times”—or should we at all?

A dynamic eschatology is vital to a living faith. The Scriptures address “the end” extensively: The Old Testament prophets employed eschatological images vividly; Jesus entertained questions about it seriously; Paul reinforced those teachings authoritatively; the Book of Revelation “unveiled” the events of “the end” dramatically. Surely God intended to say something to us about it all.

So it matters. My hope is to find some meeting ground when it comes to reflections about “the end” so that, as evangelicals living in calamitous times, we may embrace an informed, vigorous eschatology. For, as historian Paul Boyer has concluded, “The most dynamic energized sector of religion has been the evangelical one and the eschatological vision is central.”

SATAN’S RATTLING CHAINS

In A.D. 1147, Gerard of Poehlde wrote to Evermord, prior of a monastery on the German frontier: “Look upon the conditions of the time and you will find it full of dangers. In Revelation, John prophesied that Satan would be freed after a thousand years (Rev. 20:3). Eight hundred and nine years have passed from the time of Constantine and Silvester when, in heavenly fashion, peace was granted to the Holy Church after the triumphant struggle of the martyrs. Thus, Satan, meditating on the long-desired end of this peace now almost completed, shakes the chains binding him.”

Gerard assumed that the millennium outlined in Revelation 20 began with the ascent of Constantine. He likewise concluded (one of numerous eschatological viewpoints of that period) that the church would soon be overturned by Satan, who was champing at the bit as the thousandth anniversary of Christian dominance approached.

Gerard was not the first, nor the last, to divine eschatological signals in the dangerous “conditions of the time.” From the time of the first Christians, who expected the Lord’s return in their lifetime; to the turn of the first millennium, when the whole country of Iceland, according to Jeff Sheler in “U.S. News & World Report,” “converted to Christianity out of apocalyptic dread”; through the explorations of Columbus, who saw his endeavors as divinely ordained; to the sixteenth-century Reformers, who likened the papacy to the Antichrist; to the rise of the Millerites in the 1830s, who waited in vain—twice—for Christ’s return; to the predictions of South Korean Lee Jang Rim, who convinced followers around the globe that Christ would return in October 1992—generation upon generation has believed that theirs was the moment in history when the victorious Savior would come with the clouds.

The problem was, he didn’t.

The result has been inventive reinterpretations about what Christ must have meant when he spoke of his coming at “the end of the age.”

TIME’S TRAJECTORIES

The genre of “the apocalyptic” originated in the Jewish Scriptures, especially in the books of Daniel and Ezekiel, and flourished in Palestine through A.D. 100. Judaism’s linear concept of time departed from the more common ancient belief that time flowed in “fertility cycles,” based on agricultural seasons. The idea that history has a “distinct beginning and follows a clearly defined forward trajectory,” writes Paul Boyer in his book “When Time Shall Be No More” (Harvard), “encouraged an eschatological vision of history.” The apocalyptic writings interpret history as a cosmic struggle between good and evil; history progresses in the context of a preordained resolution, prior to which evil increases until the “appointed time” of the (imminent) end.

With this in mind, the first-century believers looked for the imminent return of Jesus, fully expecting that he would appear before “this generation” passed away (Matt. 24:34). As time passed, they adopted a somewhat ill-defined premillennial outlook, called chiliasm (based on the Greek word in Rev. 20:3 denoting the number 1,000), which anticipated that the Lord would return and reign in Jerusalem for a thousand years before the final judgment. This outlook never found creedal expression, however, and only loosely summed up the eschatological beliefs of the early church.

In the fourth century, Augustine rejected the literal and materialistic notions behind chiliasm, concluding, instead, that the kingdom of God was already manifest in the presence of the church, that is, the community of believers. The thought of an imminent, material millennial kingdom to be ushered in by Christ was replaced by a futuristic view of the return of the Lord (and accompanying events). The focus shifted away from the heavens to the church as the believing community now identified as the kingdom of God. The age between Pentecost and the return of Christ was the millennium, according to Augustine, and it would be marked by the ever-increasing influence of the church in overturning evil in the world before the Lord’s return. This outlook predominated for the next 1,500 years.

Early American theologians like Jonathan Edwards in the eighteenth century and Charles Finney in the nineteenth adopted this millennial scheme, called postmillennialism: “the redemption of the world [by means of] a long, slow process extending through the centuries … approaching an appointed goal … a day of advancing victory,” according to historian Loraine Boettner. And it is no wonder these revival preachers embraced postmillennialism, given the supernatural manifestations of spiritual renewal that accompanied their ministries. Finney proclaimed that “if [people] were united all over the world, the millennium might be brought about in three months.”

Yet social hardship in the early nineteenth century, along with the rise of “Enlightenment thinking,” precipitated the decline of postmillennialism. Secular eschatologies like Marxism replaced the concept of the kingdom of God with the hope of proletarian revolution setting up a utopian kingdom of man built on the ruins of the upper classes. Rationalism replaced revelation; reason overturned faith. As Paul Erb wrote in “The Alpha and the Omega” (Herald), “The age of science made biblical eschatology seem like a fairy tale.”

DARBY’S DEBUT

At this time, a new kind of millennial thinking emerged that resembled the eschatological hopes of the early church. Premillennialism found a strong following after being meticulously delineated by Baptist lay preacher William Miller in the early and mid-1800s. He said, “I found, going through with the Bible, the end of all things was clearly and emphatically predicted, both as to time and manner … and immediately the duty to publish this doctrine, that the world might believe and get ready to meet the Judge and Bridegroom at his coming, was impressed upon my mind.”

Miller’s view fell into disrepute, however, after the Millerites made not one, but two failed attempts to set a date for the Lord’s return. Wrote one of his followers: “Our fondest hopes and expectations were blasted, and such a spirit of weeping came over us as I never experienced before.” Timothy Weber noted in “Living in the Shadow of the Second Coming” (Chicago): “To say the least, by 1845 premillennialism had fallen on hard times.”

It did, that is, until it found rebirth under the inspiration of British pastor John Nelson Darby in the late 1850s in the form of dispensational premillennialism. According to Darby, God interacted with humanity in a series of epochs, or dispensations. The Bible addressed events past and future, but remained largely silent about the present age of the church (Darby’s “great parenthesis”). The next epoch to commence would be that ushered in by the “Rapture,” or the snatching away of the church out of the world. This, then, would set in motion a series of subsequent events that would culminate in the ascendancy of the Antichrist, who would rule the world for seven years (the latter half of which would coincide with the Great Tribulation). His rule would then be overturned with the victorious descent of Christ with the church to defeat him at the Battle of Armageddon and inaugurate a literal thousand-year reign. The Lord and his church would enjoy uninterrupted bliss during this time (which would be contiguous with the spiritual rebirth of Israel, acknowledging Christ as Messiah) until Satan would be “loosed” at the end for a season. Then, heaven and earth will give way to a new heaven and a new earth, the final judgment will commence, and Satan will be cast forever into eternal damnation.

“Darby wove these diverse strands into a tight cohesive system that he buttressed at every point by copious biblical proof texts, then tirelessly promoted through his writing and preaching tours,” writes Boyer. Cyrus Scofield then popularized this system of belief with the publication of his “Reference Bible” (1909) and catapulted it into the Protestant mainstream. Boyers suggests that this work, “more than any other single work solidified the premillennial movement.”

ESCHATOLOGICAL PLURALISM

But there has been no consensus on things eschatological among evangelicals. Part of the difficulty lies in the fact that expert opinion varies both in general interpretation of the texts and in the understanding of details. For example, scholars debate whether in Jesus’ Olivet Discourse (Matt. 24 and parallel passages) he was speaking about cataclysmic events of that day-the destruction of Jerusalem in A.D. 70, as verse 34 suggests—or about catastrophic events at the end of history. “Few chapters of the Bible have called forth more disagreement among interpreters than Matthew 24 and its parallels,” writes biblical commentator D. A. Carson. Paul’s meaning in his references to “the coming of our Lord” in 2 Thessalonians evokes a similar cacophony of opinion. Some say, for example, when it comes to the “apostasy” referred to in 2 Thessalonians 2:3 that Paul indicates the entire church will “fall away.” Others suggest that it could refer to the Christians or Jews. Still others maintain the church will merely look on as only the Jews apostatize.

Interpreting the Book of Revelation is yet more complicated. Some argue the book can be understood from the point of view that it was intended for the first-century church only, that it is a “tract for hard times” for the suffering Christians in Asia Minor as they longed for liberation from the heavy hand of Rome (the “beast”).

Others suggest that Revelation is a symbolic portrayal of the history of the church from its inception to its consummation. The symbols in the book designate various historical movements and events. The Roman church, in this view, was seen as the “false prophet” who served the purposes of “the beast” (the office of the papacy).

The “idealists” interpret Revelation in strictly symbolic terms, with the bizarre imagery allegorically representing the cosmic conflict between the forces of evil and the kingdom of God, while the “futurists” see Revelation largely as prophecy yet to be fulfilled.

But none is without an “Achilles heel.” Those who apply Revelation’s significance strictly to the first century are left to explain why the victory outlined in Revelation was not realized. Those who view the book as a strictly symbolic portrayal of church history leave themselves open to subjective conclusions since there are no specific indicators as to which historical events are represented. A strict “idealist” perspective denies the self-proclaimed intent of the book that it was directed to the churches of Asia Minor (Rev. 1:11). The same argument can be asserted for a strict futurist point of view.

So, where does that leave us? The variety of reasonable points of view negates, in part at least, the certainty of any one in particular. But if it is all so muddled and indeterminable, how can we know anything at all about these mysterious passages that compose such a significant portion of the New Testament?

JESUS FORETELLS THE FUTURE

In Matthew 24 and 25, Jesus took plenty of time to answer his disciples’ question: “What will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” (24:3).

The “signs” he enumerated were many. They included such things as wars, rumors of wars, famines, and earthquakes. And he sprinkled his answer with warnings: his followers would be persecuted, and false messiahs would attempt to deceive them, claiming he had returned already. He spared no force of imagery in portraying the severity of those events before “the end.”

He then reinforced these admonitions with successive parables: the fig tree, the antedeluvians, the servants in the fields, the owner of the house, the faithful and unfaithful servants, the ten bridesmaids, and the talents. These parables bolster his point: that his coming will be swift and sure; it will intrude upon everyday life; and its time cannot be precisely calculated. The fig tree story (24:32-33) validated the expectation that signs will come—some of the strongest manifestations occurring in “this generation”—and that his followers should be alert to these. He enlarged this thought by referring to Noah’s generation (24:37-39), which was oblivious to the signs of impending disaster—the “illusion of normalcy” as A. J. Conyers calls it in “The End” (IVP). The owner of the house (24:43-44), like those of Noah’s generation, should have expected the unexpected. This negligence is contrasted to diligence of the servant (24:45-46) who ran his master’s household assiduously while watching for the master’s return. Next Jesus warned of delay (25:1-13): Only five of the ten bridesmaids were prepared when the groom finally arrived. The others should have reckoned with the possibility of his “tarrying.” Similarly, the vigilant, enterprising servants in the parable of the talents (25:14-30) multiplied the talents left in their care and thus won the master’s reward. In contrast, the passive, “worthless servant” sat idly with his single talent, until he met with his master’s contempt.

Jesus prefaced his end-times narrative with the warning to “watch out that no one deceives you,” which warned the disciples that these events may not transpire according to a well-plotted story line. There would be room for doubt and deceit. Jesus alerted his followers to the fact that the signs of his coming will be evident—keep alert; that his coming will be swift and sure—be ready; and that it might take longer than they think—don’t give up.

This, however, is the surest of Jesus’ predictions of the end: “No one knows about the day or the hour” (25:36).

HOW SHALL WE THEN LIVE?

If, as Jesus said, we cannot know the hour or the day, yet we also see the signs, how are we to be both ready to go and resigned to wait?

According the apostle Peter, the scoffers say: “Ever since our fathers died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation. … Where is this ‘coming’ he promised?” (2 Peter 3:4; all Scripture quotations from the NIV). But he reminds us that the Lord’s tarrying means salvation for more. Still, Peter poses the question: “What kind of people ought you to be … as you look forward to the day of God?” (3:11-12).

His answer: “You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God … looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth” (3:12-13).

Two stories can fill in what “looking forward” might mean.

When our middle son, Ben, was much younger, he had heard more than one sermon about the importance of surrendering our lives to Christ. And Ben seemed well-attuned to the heart of God; he exhibited the selfless and kind tendencies that would take some—like his mother—a lifetime of sanctification to acquire. So it disturbed my husband and me when Ben stubbornly resisted our invitations for him to give his life to Christ. He would offer no explanations; he would simply tell us in his preschool English that he wasn’t ready.

He resisted for several months. Then, one morning as we sat around the kitchen table eating our Cheerios, little Ben announced that he was ready to give his life to Christ. He then got up from the table and went upstairs. My husband and I looked at each other and followed him. I guess we expected to find Ben on his knees in prayer. We didn’t. Instead, we found him folding his Star Wars pajamas into his Sesame Street suitcase.

We said, “Ben, what are you doing?”

He answered, “Packing.”

“Why?” we asked.

“To go to heaven,” he said.

We then understood why our child hesitated to give his life to Christ. He thought that, in so doing, he would have to leave us and take up residence, literally, with Christ in heaven.

We should all possess the faith of little Benjamin: we should have our hearts so fixed on Christ’s appearance that the attachments of our earthly life pale in comparison. For we are “aliens and strangers on earth … longing for a better country-a heavenly one” (Heb. 11:13).

But what about the meantime?

Perhaps there is a clue in the life of Jeremiah, who, while “confined to the courtyard of the guard in the royal palace of Judah”—even as Nebuchadnezzar’s army was besieging Jerusalem—heard the word of the Lord to “buy [a] field in Anathoth” (Jer. 32:7). Anathoth, just outside of Jerusalem, was not the most stable real estate market at that moment. The Babylonian troops were razing the city and burning and pillaging the surrounding areas. Who needed a field at Anathoth? Wouldn’t the money be better invested in some surer venture? But that is exactly the point: the field at Anathoth, given the conditions of the moment, may not have been a stable investment, but from Jeremiah’s standpoint, it was an investment in the promise of God: “This is what the Lord says: As I have brought all this great calamity on this people, so I will give them all the prosperity I promised them. Once more fields will be bought in this land of which you now say, ‘It is desolate'” (Jer. 32:42-43).

So when it comes to living under the shadow of the end, we find ourselves suspended between two seemingly contradictory realities. On the one hand, we need the faith to let go of worldly attachments—like little Ben, who packed his bags to leave the only world he knew. On the other hand, we need to live fully, here and now, with assurance and abandon, like the weeping prophet who invested in smoldering real estate. Paul captures the essence of this tension when he suggests that “to live is Christ” (this life is worthy of the best that we can give it … ) but “to die is gain” ( … joyfully relinquished for the better portion). Both dispositions depend upon unremitting faith in the promises of God. As Paul Erb wrote, “We live in a tension between that which we already have received and that which we look forward to with hope.”

In recounting what we have already received, what God has already accomplished—his creating the universe and setting humanity at the pinnacle; his intention for humanity to enjoy unbroken fellowship with him; his orchestration of our rescue from our self-imposed captivity to the Devil and to sin; his setting up the reign of God in the heart of every believer; his bringing forth an outpost of the kingdom, his church—the details of the impending events related to “the end” tend to diminish in their consequence. “Eschatology is … concerned, not so much with the ‘last things,’ ” writes Erb, “as with Him who is ‘the first and the last.’ “

So, as we live and breathe in this turbulent time, witnessing unprecedented global posturing and moral breakdown, nation rising up against nation, famines, earthquakes, rebellion, and the rise of false messiahs, who cannot help thinking of Jesus’ words: “When you see all these things you know that [the end] is near, right at the door” (Matt. 24:33)? That is where “the end” should be in the heart and mind of every believer: at the door.

Where the Antichrist might reside or what might be the eschatological significance of crop circles are lesser questions. The greater question to be asked, as posed by Conyers, is: “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth” (Luke 18:8)? Indeed, the world scene is changing in ways never before experienced, and these events may well carry some eschatological import. But Conyers asserts, “Speculation … requires nothing from us. … As long as ‘No one knows about the day or hour … but only the Father’—then the end of history becomes equally important for every day in history … the judgment of every day and every action.”

Jesus’ verdict in his end-times discourse punctuates the imperative of service and action in the present. He concluded with the parable of the sheep and the goats. We will be judged, when that moment arrives, by the day-to-day actions performed in the shadow of the end—on whether or not we extended the glass of cold water to “one of the least of these.”

Every day is the last, just as it was for little Ben the morning he left his soggy Cheerios to pack his suitcase for heaven. At the same time, each day is born with promise and possibility and beckons us to invest each moment and opportunity with hilarity and abandon, with all the assurance of Jeremiah, who invested all in the promise of God. As we wait for the Lord’s return, we should, in the words of J. I. Packer, live “packed up and ready to go, and packed up and ready to wait.”

Copyright © 1995 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

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You won't find Pucallpa, Peru—a jungle town on the Ucayali River—on the jet set's list of top-ten tourist attractions. Yet Pucallpa is the hub of evangelical missionary activity in the Peruvian Amazon. It is a jungle base for such major agencies as the Wycliffe Bible Translators—related Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL), the South American Mission, and the Swiss Indian Mission.

What they do in Pucallpa is coordinate jungle missions. Hearing those words, most Americans visualize deadly snakes, lurking dangers, and a fair-skinned missionary neck-deep in boiling water. Yet, while there are still snakes and dangers, jungle missions have become a lot more complicated since the pith-helmet days. I traveled there to update our stereotypes: what are jungle missions really like?

My host was a long-time friend, Roger Marquez, a native from the Peruvian Shipibo tribe, and a jungle missionary. Roger and his wife, Rebeca, serve as missionaries to the Shipibo church under a Christian and Missionary Alliance congregation in Lima. After the 50-minute flight from Lima to Pucallpa, photographer Samuel Nieva and I spotted Roger just outside the airport terminal. He greeted us, apologizing that he needed to hurry back to the annual assembly of the Association of Shipibo-Conibo Evangelical Churches. Roger quickly loaded us into a "motokar," a three-wheeled motorcycle pulling a canopied carrier with room to seat three (thin) adults. "Motokars are a lot cooler than a car this time of year," Roger said, as the hot tropical air whipped in our faces in the rutted street from the airport.

The Shipibo-Conibo church association assembly was in full swing. About 80 church leaders from up and down the Ucayali River (which feeds the Amazon) sat on backless benches, fanning themselves while some nodded off in the afternoon heat. Newly elected association president Bernardo Vasquez said that his main goal was to involve Shipibo churches in missionary outreach. Roughly 100 Shipibo villages with 15,000 Shipibos are found up and down the Ucayali from Pucallpa, and Shipibo evangelists have preached the gospel in every one of them. Vasquez's comments overturned any notion that only Westerners were doing mission work in the jungle.

"We are finally getting over our complex of being looked down upon. The Shipibos have awakened to the fact that we are also children of God, and that we can also do things," said Rafael Ahuanari, a young Shipibo pastor.

Peke-pekes and the beach boys

The meeting would take awhile, so Samuel and I stepped out for a look around. We walked several blocks to a park overlooking the Ucayali River. Down by the riverbank, several large passenger boats were docked. Five days and 500 miles downriver lay Iquitos, Peru's major port on the Amazon, that amazing river stretching 4,000 miles from its source at 18,363 feet above sea level on Peru's Nevado Mismi mountain to its mouth in Belem, Brazil. The passenger boats dwarfed rows of dugout canoes and narrow boats rigged with small motors. Locals dubbed these craft peke-pekes, for the sputtering sound of the motors.

As Samuel and I walked at river's edge, a riverbank saloon blasted music from the Beach Boys. Coal-black buzzards hopped on piles of trash and dead fish, while men received cargo and passengers in their peke-pekes. Merchants hawked plastic gasoline tanks, replacement sandal thongs, and other jungle necessities.

In the park, we found an open-air evangelistic meeting in full swing. A dozen young people stood in a semicircle, zealously singing choruses. The oldest member, probably the pastor, stood in the middle, keeping time with his palms, eyes closed, body swaying.

One by one, the believers stepped forward to testify. "You see me here now," a teenage girl shouted, "and you might think I've always been a good, sweet girl. But I was once a rebellious child. I was rebellious. Hallelujah! I went to discotheques. I went to parties. But then I met the Lord!" This was the evangelistic zeal that explains why Latin American evangelical churches are growing.

The words echoed in the quiet plaza as a small audience gazed tolerantly. A woman nursed her baby. Sweethearts held hands. And vendors sold Peruvian-brand soft drinks from ice-filled coolers.

On the surface, Pucallpa residents looked like one happy family. But, in fact, local Amazon natives and Spanish nationals—the mestizos, as natives call them—share no great mutual affinity. The distrust, dislike, and antagonism trace back to the old history of mestizo dominance, if not exploitation, of the natives.

Over supper later that night, Roger and Rebeca described their own missionary calling to the Peruvian Amazon. Rebeca came from a comfortable, middle-class family in Lima, and Roger from a Shipibo jungle community on the upper Ucayali. By many Peruvians' standards, they were not an appropriate match. "I saw a lot of racism," Rebeca said.

When Rebeca turned ten, her father gave her a shrunken head from Jbaro Indians in Ecuador. "Why did they have to shrink a person's head to the size of an orange?" she wondered. "When I grow up, I'm going to go talk to them," she decided. After Rebeca gave her life to Christ at age 16, she immediately thought, "Now I know what I'm going to say to the indigenous people: I'm going to tell them about Christ."

In 1979, she visited Pucallpa and SIL's jungle center. Where were all the Peruvians? she wondered. The missionaries were all foreigners. She returned to Lima committed to become a missionary in the jungle.

Roger (Suynihue in Shipibo, meaning Straight Hair) accepted the Lord at the age of ten through the influence of missionaries and later studied at two Bible institutes. When he was a newborn, his mother had tried to bury him alive—a way of eliminating unwanted children. A local curaca (chief) took Roger from the ground to save his life.

I first met him ten years ago while he was living in Lima. There he launched a ministry to native students attending university in the capital city—a very different kind of "jungle" from the Amazon. Roger started a Christian dormitory in a small, rented house just off Lima's congested and chaotic Dos de Mayo plaza. Roger had seen native Christians come to Lima to study, only to fall flat on their backs spiritually. He helped young native believers adjust to urban life, master Spanish, and get through their studies without losing their faith.

Roger was happy to be back on his own jungle turf. He and Rebeca told me about their dream of starting a jungle missions training center in their home.

Snake Stories

After a good night's sleep at the Marquezes, we awoke to low, rumbling thunder. Since river travel did not seem wise, we decided to visit SIL's jungle base on Lake Yarinacocha, about a 15-minute ride from town. The Yarinacocha center includes modest homes for linguists not among the tribes, a school for missionary kids, air-conditioned and computer-equipped offices for translation work, and a small airport operation for flights into the jungle. By government contract, the center and facilities will revert to the Peruvian government and/or military when SIL leaves the country.

As the rains pounded overhead, director Wayne Howlett gave me some background on the history of SIL in Peru. The revered "Uncle Cam" himself, Wycliffe founder William Cameron Townsend, pioneered the Peruvian work in 1946 and stayed 17 years until moving on to Colombia in 1963. Peru was SIL's second mission field, after Mexico.

During its heyday, SIL had several hundred workers in Peru's Amazon jungle. Linguists reduced native languages to writing, did translations of the New Testament, trained bilingual teachers and literacy workers, and helped pave the way for much that is happening in jungle missions today. They foresee the imminent completion of their jungle work.

So far, the linguists have finished New Testaments in 21 jungle languages, with another eight to ten groups having only portions of the New Testament. "That brings us down to about ten New Testaments left to finish here in the jungle," said Howlett.

He explained some of the dilemmas of translation work. For instance, a translation project may be terminated if it is determined a native group has shifted to using the Spanish language. Or, "if a group gets down to 25 speakers or fewer, continuing the complete program is neither feasible nor good stewardship," Howlett said.

Before SIL leaves the jungle, it wants to make sure it has not missed any hidden groups. SIL's director of jungle programs, David Archibald, who joined our discussion, noted, "We have isolated nine groups that have not had any contact with civilization, to the best of our knowledge. We're trying to establish peaceful contact with one of these groups."

Amazon church leaders and missionaries knew about "power encounters" and satanic opposition long before the subject came into vogue in the States. "One thing we've noticed here," Archibald continued, "is that when translations go into final revision, the translators often get sick. Cancer seems to be fairly common. Chronic fatigue syndrome was very prevalent here with linguists going into the final translation revision stage."

In addition, most native groups have deep roots in spiritism and animism. According to Roger, one of the great temptations for Shipibo believers is going back to the curanderos, or spiritual healers.

Archibald introduced missionary linguist Wes Thiesen, a veteran of 44 years among the Bora people. With a self-conscious chuckle, Thiesen told us his "snake story" from his second year among the Boras. Some children ran excitedly to his house one day, crying, "Do you want to see a big snake?" The young missionary grabbed his camera and followed the boys for nearly an hour down the trail until they encountered a 20-foot-long anaconda sunning itself.

This is a real trophy, Thiesen thought, envisioning the snakeskin on his wall. He asked to borrow a boy's shotgun, but the boy refused. Thiesen noticed that no one seemed too anxious to shoot the serpent. Finally, one boy offered to get his dad's old shotgun.

Thiesen shot and then skinned the snake. When the linguist got home, the chief paid him a visit: "What kind of a crazy man are you—killing that snake?" the Bora chief demanded. The spirit of the snake would surely attack and kill him, he said. Village kids came every day to check Thiesen's health. Two weeks later he developed a painful case of pleurisy.

"I didn't know what caused it, but they knew exactly. As I lay in my hammock each night, they would come over and check on me, and I would teach them from the Bible. I had enough Bora vocabulary to tell them Jesus would take care of me and that I would be OK."

When Thiesen recovered, the Boras were amazed. "We feel this was one of the reasons the first Boras came to the Lord," he said. "They thought if Jesus could protect me from the spirit of the boa, Christianity was something worthwhile."

Upriver Edification

Besides engaging in spiritual warfare, Amazon natives also struggle merely to survive. About 280,000 of Peru's 24 million people are Amazon natives who are getting crowded out by colonists from the mountain highlands and other areas. Lumber and oil companies, terrorists, drug traffickers, and tourists penetrate even the most remote jungle regions.

Steve Moore of SIL fears that the Latin American trend toward competitive, fend-for-yourself economies could put native groups at an even greater disadvantage. "It's hard for them to get their products to market," he told me. "They do not have the advantage of knowing Spanish sufficiently to enter into this competition. Transportation and communication are difficult."

Attacks from the Maoist terrorist group Shining Path have also impeded the work. One of the Amazon groups affected most was the Ashaninkas. SIL's Jim Daggett recalled the day one of the best Ashaninka bilingual teachers visited his office. " 'I'm going to be killed,' the man flatly stated. 'Shining Path is going to kill me.'

"Sure enough," Daggett said, "the year after he talked to me, Shining Path terrorists brutally assassinated him. He was tortured."

Paul Friesen, a Mennonite Brethren missionary serving with the Swiss Indian mission, has spent 34 years among the Ashaninkas. They had the misfortune of living in the line of the Shining Path eastern escape route from their terrorist stronghold in mountainous Ayacucho State. Friesen had helped organize relief efforts among Ashaninka refugees. The violence, which limited his travel into the area, "basically deepened the evangelicals' Christian commitment. We've never really heard of Ashaninka evangelicals who denied the faith to join Shining Path. Some were willing to die for their faith." (Shining Path activity has since been greatly reduced due to a government crackdown.) He continued, "The Catholics did their work among the Ashaninkas in the Spanish language, and it never took. When the gospel came to the Ashaninkas in their own language in the 1950s, they immediately accepted it as their own. They've done 99.9 percent of their own evangelization."

The next day the weather cleared enough for Roger to take me up the Ucayali in a peke-peke. We traveled two hours to a clearing half as big as a football field. Amidst the tall grass and dense undergrowth were ten thatched-roof Shipibo homes on stilts. Only birds broke the jungle silence.

Roger motioned to the huts. "Now, the houses are smaller, because good lumber is getting scarce. The leaves for the roofs are harder to find, too. There used to be more fish, and the hunting was better. People were better nourished. And there were no mestizos, just Shipibos. But with more people here, the basic raw materials are harder to find."

We learned that most men from the village were gone cutting timber; trees are felled, then floated downriver for sale in Pucallpa. Yet Roger gathered a dozen or so people for an impromptu worship service on the bamboo floor of one of the homes. Internal and moral problems had debilitated the once-active congregation.

Roger gave a brief meditation from Romans 8. After we sang choruses, a young man playing the guitar asked to speak. He said there used to be an active youth group at the village, "but many of the youth have gone back into the world," he said, starting to weep. "I often cry about that."

Another man then spoke up, confessing to moral failures and asking to repent: "I'm going to reconcile myself with the Lord. I'm going to get right with God and start over." Before the meeting ended, another man requested prayer because his wife had left him.

Heading downriver back to Pucallpa, Roger felt God had sent us to the village that day. "Many times, the church leaders forget about visiting the small communities. God used us today to get some of these fallen leaders back on their feet spiritually."

Suddenly our peke-peke halted. The rotors of the boat motor had gotten hung up in some weeds. "The church has been like that," Rebeca said. "Things go along fine, and then we get bogged down." She sensed a kind of spiritual oppression, hanging "like fog, a low cloud" and impeding church growth and strength. Yet she and Roger were optimistic about their ministry to train and encourage leaders.

The first one in the pot

Just like the Shipibo students in Lima, Amazon tribes are doing a balancing act between centuries-old customs and encroaching Westernization. Certain anthropologists, scholars, and opponents of Christianity sometimes blast the missionaries as "changing" the culture of the native groups. To be sure, some missionaries have made cultural gaffes. But native groups in the Amazon will make contact with Western culture eventually. And certainly it is better for them to meet Christ-bearing missionaries before they encounter the often-greedy oil and lumber companies, drug traffickers, or land-grabbers.

Jungle missions rarely involve personal glory. The work is filled with mundane tasks accomplished under difficult conditions and far from the public eye. Yet the jungle is filled with spiritual heroes. A Shipibo told me his uncle died from a poisonous snakebite while going to preach at an unreached village. The five U.S. missionaries killed by Ecuadorian Waorani (Aucas) in the 1950s made more headlines, but this Shipibo evangelist was just as much a martyr.

After all is said and written, even the most hardened critic would have trouble discounting the impact of Christianity in the Peruvian Amazon. Christianity has changed hearts and attitudes. Since embracing faith in Christ, "the Ashaninka men are more tender with their wives and children," says Paul Friesen. "Also, there is a consciousness of sin, not perfection. The Word of God has convicted them."

The gospel has also opened new horizons on the world and education. Inevitably, schools and literacy have followed the missionaries and the gospel. Evangelicals in the jungle (and Latin America in general) have learned leadership skills through their church responsibilities and often end up becoming community leaders as well.

All this happened among people who were previously "fearful, aggressive, illiterate, and animistic and whose only contacts with outsiders were marked by violence," an SIL official wrote, describing one jungle group, the Matses, transformed by Christianity.

Now that is what jungle missions are really like: God blessing human efforts and transforming lives. Native believers have problems like Christians anywhere else, but they, more than most, can appreciate the difference between "before" and "after" Christ.

An anthropologist recently visited the Bora people and started criticizing the Christian missionaries, SIL's Wes Thiesen told me. "Christianity is for the white man," the anthropologist said. "You people should go back to your old religion and your old ways."

An indignant Bora church leader, remembering the old days, eyed the anthropologist. "Yes, and if we did, you'd be the first one in the pot."

*************************

John Maust is the director of training at Media Associates International in Bloomingdale, Illinois. He previously served as editor for the Latin America Evangelist.

Words are powerful. Many people, if they take time, can think of wise words from a teacher, parent, or friend that made a great impact on their life. Many people can spotlight an encouraging word that lifted them at a very low time. Many people can also remember some searing sentence, the memory of which brings blushing shame even today, years later.

My mother was a great knitter. She never went to meetings without her ball of yarn and a sweater-in-progress. At home she was forever holding up sections of a new work against my arms or chest or back, to see whether they would fit. Unfortunately, not all of her sweaters were triumphs. Often the size or shape or color was decidedly odd.

I do remember one outstanding creation, however. When I was in the seventh grade, she gave me for Christmas a bright red, cable-knit sweater, very distinctive and attractive. I proudly wore it to school, where a boy noticed it and looked it over critically.

“It looks like a girl’s sweater,” he said.

I never wore the sweater out of the house again.

Our words matter. The Book of Genesis portrays God creating the world by speaking. In a related way, we create the world we live in through our words. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance that we pay attention to our words—both those we intend and those that slip out when we are not paying attention. And we also need to be conscious of how we deliver the words we use. No matter how encouraging the actual words are, they will lose their positive values if accompanied by an uninterested voice or lack of eye contact. The way we talk to each other can build a world full of love and security, or a world of bitterness and anxiety.

Take a married couple. The man does not talk. To compensate, his wife talks too much. In particular, she shoots off her mouth about his mother. If you pressed him, he would admit that his mother is far from perfect. But he simply does not want to hear it all the time, especially from his wife. To him, the running down of his mother is like a dripping faucet. It is not any particular drip that kills him; it’s the wearing effect of the whole thing.

She, on the other hand, is worn down by his silence. She wants to hear that her husband loves her and likes the way she looks. He does compliment her cooking, but that does not help. She knows she is a good cook. Her attractiveness is what she needs affirmed.

Her husband is not a sentimental person, and she knew that when she married him. She did not know how wearisome it would be. She is tired of taking the initiative. She wants him to bring a little romance to the marriage. For a long time she tried to wheedle it out of him, but she has given that up. He just won’t listen to her needs, she says.

Can anyone help these two? A moralistic approach will not work; they both can give you nine yards of reasons why they are justified in their behavior. You could take a more psychological approach, trying to delve into their pasts. But there is no certainty you will ever get to the basis of why they behave as they do, or that they would be able to change their behavior if you did.

Without taking anything away from a moral approach or a psychological approach, I would suggest another way. It would help a great deal, I believe, if both would learn how to talk. The woman needs to learn to limit her critiques of her mother-in-law. The man needs to learn some ways to say, “I love you,” so his wife can hear it. Both of them need to learn new ways of bringing up sore subjects without starting fights that make everything worse. If they learned such skills, it might not put an end to all their troubles, but it would be a huge and helpful start. It would stop the bleeding and begin to let their love flow through.

Such training in talking you do not get at school. You get it—if you get it—at home. It is typically transmitted mother to daughter, father to son. Unfortunately, a lot of people miss out. Such training takes time, and it requires confidence on the part of the parents. If they themselves do not know how to talk, they cannot very well pass it on.

I am peculiarly, painfully aware of this need for training because I missed out on so much of it. I grew up in a wonderful family, but it was the kind of family where, if you thought someone’s opinion was stupid, you said so. We had great debates around the kitchen table, my siblings, parents, and I. I learned how to think in my family, but I cannot say I learned how to talk. I was well into my college years before I learned that telling someone that his favorite movie is incredibly dumb may hurt his feelings.

Perhaps this had more to do with my personal makeup than with my family makeup. I was shy, and often shy people retreat into themselves, unknowingly giving the impression of unfriendly aloofness. In college, I began to realize that other people’s image of me did not match my image of myself. Those who did not know me well saw me as stern, aloof, and judgmental. Nobody told me so directly. Once I began to catch on, however, I was hit by the message from all sides.

This pained me deeply, because it was not true. I knew what was inside me. I was as aloof as a puppy dog. I was soft-hearted, if anything. I cared about people. I craved friendship.

I began to try to rewrite my life. I began consciously to say nice things to people, to let them know that I appreciated and liked them. I tried to act warmly. I began to hold my tongue when I had something to say that might be construed as critical or snobbish.

And I hated it. It felt horribly unnatural. I despised having to watch my words, having to mull over every interaction to see whether I had handled it well and gotten my message across. Why couldn’t I just be myself? I was, I suppose, a true child of the sixties: I believed that acting sincerely was enough. Now I felt that I was acting insincerely, putting on an act.

My changes did bring noticeably better results, though. People told me I was different. They told me I seemed warmer, happier. People opened up to me. People sought me out. I liked those differences. And I found that I got used to the act I was putting on. Over months and years it grew comfortable. Eventually, it became liberating. It became me.

For years, I have coached youth soccer. Most of the under-10 kids I get only know how to kick with their right foot. They may be fairly skilled at kicking with their right foot, but when they try to kick left-footed, they look incredibly uncoordinated. Usually they give a pitifully weak kick that dribbles the ball a few yards in front of them. Sometimes they miss the ball entirely and fall on their rears.

As their coach, I know that soccer players have to learn to use both feet. So I encourage them to use the “off” foot. There is no magic trick I can teach them. They just have to do it. If they do, they will get better at it, and one day they will feel as natural kicking with the “off” foot as they do with their primary foot. Learning to talk is the same way. Sometimes you have to make yourself uncomfortable, do things differently—strange as that may feel—until you become comfortable again.

What worries people about such an approach is that it seems calculated and artificial. It seems phony. I am sure that it could be. This was not my experience, however. On the contrary, though it initially felt phony, it helped me develop far deeper and more authentic relationships with people.

When I learned how to stop putting people off with my seeming aloofness, when I learned how to say that I liked people and to show an interest in their lives, I began to make more free and open friendships. They, in turn, made me into a far more confident, friendly person—naturally. I can honestly say that learning how to talk changed my life. It enabled me to be myself.

At the same time I was changing the way I talked to people, I was studying with a teacher who was a genius at mining dumb comments for gold. I took his seminar in nineteenth-century theology, and I don’t think I was the only student at sea among the Schleiermachers and Kierkegaards. Again and again, we made blundering stabs at the thoughtful questions Professor Irish put to us. Often I did not know what my fellow students were trying to say, and I was not sure they did, either.

But Professor Irish could somehow see a kernel of relevance in those answers, draw it out, and move the whole discussion along. He made us feel we had remarkable insight—and when he guided our discussion, we did! I began to see that learning to talk has implications beyond just one-to-one interactions.

When people know how to talk, they are not the only beneficiaries. Society profits. What kind of world would it be if every classroom, every business conference, every committee, every school board meeting, and every legislative body were dominated by people who knew when and how to speak for the mutual edification of the group? I know this for sure: it would be a world where I would not hate meetings so much.

Jesus taught that our words reveal our true selves. He said: “For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him” (Matt. 12:34-35, NIV).

Our speech is never truly accidental. If you listen to someone talk for long enough, you will know what kind of person he or she is. Careless words may reveal more than carefully planned speeches. A mouth opens, and out pops a heart.

If you have ever tried to change your way of talking, you have realized this. Just try, for example, to eliminate harsh words. This does not sound all that difficult. But the unwanted words always crop up in the most unruly way. They rush out of your mouth without warning. Through the effort you will discover how much meanness is in your heart, for it keeps bubbling up. You will have to face not just your careless words, but yourself.

Or try to begin honestly praising someone whom you find hard to affirm. Why won’t the words come out? Why is it such an effort simply to say, “I love you,” or, “Your friendship is very important to me,” or, “I really appreciated your work”? The reason can only be that, at heart, you are not an admiring and a giving person. To change your words, you must change your heart as well. This kind of metamorphosis requires prayer, meditation, the help of loved ones, and above all, the help of God.

But it also requires a recognition that changing your speech is not merely a superficial and outward activity. It is not “acting nice.” It goes to the heart. Your talk is a rudder by which you can steer your life.

Years after I became aware that the way we talk is vastly important, I met the woman who became my wife. Popie was (and is) the warmest person I had ever met. I liked her right away, and I wanted her to like me. She obviously did, and let me know it. But then, she let everyone know how she liked them. She was lavish with her affirmation.

Affirmation is only one way of talking, but it is an extremely important one. Popie’s affirmation of others was extravagant. I saw that it made an extraordinary difference in her friends. They were different when she was around them, and they stayed different after she was gone.

I saw this occur in Karen, a woman with whom Popie shared a house. Karen was quiet, almost reclusive. A computer whiz, she loved to stay up all night reading science fiction novels. She was emotionally intense but not terribly easy to talk to. Yet Popie was constantly encouraging her. Karen was a person who easily could get overlooked, but Popie did not overlook her. She liked her—she made a point of liking her—and she told her so.

Many years later, when Karen was happily married and mother to two delightful children, she called Popie one day to thank her for those affirmations, which had made a crucial difference in her life. I was not surprised. I had seen the difference in action. Under Popie’s affirmation, Karen had gained confidence and warmth. She had become more relaxed, more herself, and as wonderful as Popie had always seen that she was.

Popie affected lots of people that way. And what was her technique for influencing their lives so powerfully? She said encouraging things to them.

Seeing how Popie affected others (and me), I began to see words as very powerful tools. I had always wanted to be a powerful person. I never knew it was so possible. The key was as close as the words that came out of my mouth.

The Bible has much to say on this very subject. Many of the Proverbs concern the way we talk. They teach the skill of speaking well in everyday conversation. And the epistle of James states, “If anyone is never at fault in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to keep his whole body in check.” Perfect? Was this sheer hyperbole? I used to think so, until I looked again.

James underlined the thought with two comparisons: “When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. Likewise the tongue is a small part of the body … ” (3:2-5, NIV).

These metaphors suggest that we can control our lives by controlling our tongues. Even more startling, they imply that if we are able consistently to choose our words well, we can make our lives all that they are meant to be, and all that God wants them to be.

You cannot direct either a horse or a ship by pushing. They are too big and unwieldy. You must use—skillfully—small instruments of control. For horses, the bit. For ships, the rudder. For human lives, the tongue.

Copyright © 1995 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

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They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. -Isaiah 2:4

Esther Augsburger is using 3,000 guns for her symbol of hope. Wielding a blowtorch, she is heating guns, twisting their parts into recognizable but unusable shape, and turning them into a 16-foot plowshare to rest in downtown Washington, D.C.

“I’m thankful to be able to leave in this city of violence this one symbol of all that I believe,” says Augsburger. For the 63-year-old sculptor, the artwork is a symbol of hope, since plows are used to prepare the soil for new life. And because Augsburger and her husband, Myron, are pacifists and Mennonites, they want this sculpture to be a symbol of a commitment to nonviolence and a statement against the deaths of inner-city youth. As many people are killed yearly in the District as are killed in the Israeli-occupied territories.

The idea for the project came to Augsburger a year-and-a-half ago while watching a televised news report of a two-week amnesty program sponsored by the city police department in which boots and gift certificates were handed out in exchange for weapons. Over 6,000 guns were turned in during a two-week period. Augsburger called the police department to ask if she could use half the guns for her project. The department enthusiastically agreed.

Next, Augsburger worked at obtaining permission from the D.C. city council and a recommendation from the city’s Federal Commission of Fine Arts to install Guns into Plowshares. The proposed site for the statue is near the District’s historic courthouse, close to both the main police building and the mayor’s residence.

Though it has been rumored the National Rifle Association has raised objections to the sculpture, Augsburger continues to get support, even from around the world. One of the guns she would like to add is the weapon that killed Japanese exchange student Yoshi Hatori in Louisiana a few years ago when he tried to ask directions to a Halloween party. When the Augsburgers visited Hatori’s parents last summer to “represent the many Americans who are grieving” for their son, the Hatoris said they wanted the gun that killed their son added to the sculpture to help bring closure and to ensure it would never be used against anyone else. Unfortunately, the owner will not give up the gun for the sculpture.

This sculpture is a technical challenge to the artist because of its size and the variety of metals used. Previously, Augsburger had worked only with steel, but because guns are made with a variety of alloys, each requires a different welding technique. She is also having to raise funds-$100,000-and submit installation and upkeep plans to the District of Columbia.

While the sculpture might have the approval of police and community groups, not everyone is thrilled with the statement it makes. “People stop by my workshop and get upset about all the guns being destroyed,” Augsburger says. Others, including police officers who work with voluntary gun turn-in programs, have received death threats. Thus, friends have warned her to keep a lower profile.

TURNING VIOLENCE INTO HOPE

Sparks fly as the white-haired, energetic grandmother of two pulls down the visor on her welder’s helmet and focuses the flame from her acetylene torch to form gun barrels and chambers into the shape of a plow. “Naturally, I handle the guns with a degree of pain, knowing that many of them have taken the lives of innocent persons,” she says. She thinks of children she has known in the art classes she has taught in her inner-city neighborhood for 14 years. One of them, shot through the head by a stray bullet, lived, by God’s grace. Others did not. Another teenager has been in psychiatric care after seeing her best friend’s brains splattered onto the sidewalk and three other friends killed in the past year.

“I could tell of others,” says Augsburger. “These things are what motivate me not to allow the guns to be melted into fenceposts and the issues forgotten. This project is offering another way to turn instruments of violence into an instrument of hope.”

Augsburger has hopes for the sculpture far beyond its use as a statue the city will enjoy. She is seeking volunteers to take a model of the statue into every D.C. high school and explain what a plow does and what it means. Most D.C. students do not know what a plow is, she adds, and says she wants to invite “kids with guns and gang leaders” to come to the dedication and lay down their guns as part of the service. She also hopes to have a booth nearby where people can read about loved ones from police records of area deaths and leave notes if they wish.

It is important to Augsburger that D.C. youth understand the meaning of the plow because of the meaning it holds for her. Working on a project of this type has cut a deeper path of faith for Augsburger. “Jesus identified with those who suffered at the hands of others. He also called people to lay down their hate, enmity, and injustice. I see this sculpture as another way of proclaiming God’s love.”

By Piper Lowell.

CALLING ALL ARTISTS

Sacred Arts, the highly regarded juried art show sponsored by the Billy Graham Center Museum in Wheaton, Illinois, is calling for entries in the 1996 exhibit. It is open to artists working in any media, including sculpture and photography, in both representational and nonrepresentational styles. Sacred Arts offers cash prizes totaling $1,350, including a top award of $400 for Best of Show. Interested artists should contact James Stambaugh at the Billy Graham Center Museum; slides of work done from a Christian perspective are due for jurying October 31, 1995. The show opens March 1, 1996.

Copyright © 1995 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

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“Christianity: Essence, History, and Future,” by Hans Kung (Continuum, 936 pp.; $39.50, hardcover). Reviewed by Donald G. Bloesch, emeritus professor of theology, University of Dubuque (Iowa) Theological Seminary.

In this work, which the author presents as the culmination of a lifetime of study and reflection, noted Catholic theologian Hans Kung undertakes a comprehensive theological history of Christianity, showing its biblical roots and global implications. Kung differentiates the ceremonial and doctrinal embellishments of the Christian faith from its essence—the historical person of Jesus Christ. Kung seeks to get beyond a “Eurocentric” understanding of the Christian religion to a “universal historical view” that nevertheless maintains continuity with the original New Testament message. He sees Christianity not as an outmoded traditionalism but as a “radical humanism”—”being human to the full.”

He calls for a Christology from below—beginning with the historical life and teachings of Jesus rather than the creedal interpretation of the early church, where he discerns a shift from the New Testament paradigm to the Hellenistic paradigm in which the faith was articulated and in some instances drastically altered by Greek ontological categories. He believes that a Christology from below also has ecumenical promise, for it would facilitate dialogue with Judaism and Islam, both of which could never accept Hellenistic Christianity and the Trinity.

According to Kung, the process of Hellenization created a church burdened by hierarchy, ritualism, and creedalism. The call to discipleship, which characterized the ministry of Jesus, was overshadowed in the patristic church by a mounting concern for right doctrine. He expresses unhappiness with the medieval paradigm of the church, which tightened the grip of hierarchy with its emphasis on papal supremacy. He is grateful to the Protestant Reformation for rediscovering the gospel of justification by faith and recovering prophetic spirituality as opposed to mysticism and ritualism. He believes, however, that the present age necessitates a global spirituality and a global ethic that will still focus on Jesus but now in relationship to other world teachers and prophets.

While appreciating the comprehensiveness of Kung’s vision and the lucidity of his proposals, I have real difficulties with his analysis and interpretation. First, Kung shows himself at odds with the apostolic church by making the Jesus of history the final criterion for faith. Whereas the apostles and theologians of the early church proclaimed the preexistent Christ incarnate in human flesh, Kung’s emphasis is on the life, death, and teachings of Jesus as determined by historical research. He disputes both the preexistence of Jesus Christ and the dogma of the Trinity on the grounds that they represent deformations of New Testament faith. While it is certainly true that the fathers of the church resorted to philosophical terminology in elucidating the mysteries of the Incarnation and the Trinity, a powerful case can be made that both Nicaea and Chalcedon resisted and countered the Hellenization of the faith. Kung sees Jesus as “God’s eschatological prophet and emissary” rather than God himself in the garb of humanity.

Kung proposes that we move from the Enlightenment paradigm focused on the historical-critical study of Scripture and the moral teachings of Jesus to a postmodern paradigm focused on universal religious experience and global values. He believes a binding ethical consensus can be reached through interreligious dialogue. While maintaining that Christianity is the “one true religion,” he also is ready to acknowledge that there are “many true religions” in the sense that salvific truth can be found in all the world religions, though it is supremely embodied in Jesus Christ—at least for Christians. Kung calls for a postconfessional, ecumenical paradigm in which Christianity breaks out of its cultural insularity and enters into fruitful conversation with the other great world religions. Our goal should be a “pluralistic holistic synthesis.” Kung can be faulted for subverting the uniqueness of Jesus Christ in the interest of cultivating interreligious peace and saving the planet from ecological destruction.

I can appreciate Kung for his appeal to the New Testament over church tradition, his penetrating critique of papalism and Marianism, and his warnings against sacramentalism and ritualism. I must take exception, however, to his reduction of the faith to the original teachings of Jesus and the facts of his life and death (though these certainly belong to the fuller perspective of faith).

The author’s Christology from below fails to do justice to the church’s teachings of the Incarnation and the Trinity, both of which are solidly anchored, though not precisely elucidated, in the New Testament. Kung urges sensitive Christians to create an ecumenical global paradigm if the church is to maintain its relevance and avoid the risk of becoming insular and sectarian. But is not our task as biblical Christians to develop the ecumenical implications of the Reformation or evangelical paradigm, which Kung acknowledges to be basically faithful to the New Testament? Christians need to enter into dialogue with fellow Christians in order to advance the truth of the gospel and the cause of church unity, and here we would do well to listen to Kung. Yet we must insist that unity will come only when we identify with the apostolic interpretation of the gospel already given in the New Testament and amplified and clarified in the confessions of the early church and the Protestant Reformation.

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