This has been a sad week for the church of Jesus Christ. The Catholic Church and the pope are again under attack for covering up child molestation charges against priests. Meanwhile, in Michigan, angry "Christian" militia members were arrested by the FBI for plotting to kill policemen. I know that many will say that neither of these represent us, and we may not consider them as Christians. It doesn't matter. Those who read the newspapers will not understand the difference. All they see is the word "Christian" and lump us all in together.
I wish that I could say our brand of Christianity were devoid of sin and foolishness, but I cannot. Our recent divisions regarding Erskine Seminary have proved that. Dear God, what are we doing to ourselves? And to You?
"We wrestle not against flesh and blood," Paul writes, "But against rulers, against principalities and powers in the heavenly realms." Our weapons are not of this world, but are of divine origin. Yet it seems that those weapons of our warfare, our full armor, are left on the shelf to ruse, and we must pick up the weapons of this world--force, argument, political maneuvering, and lawsuits. We speak and act out of wrath, We seek to conquer enemies, not win them. Those sins we have in our midst that ought to make us ashamed, have not only been tolerated, they have been protected, and even encouraged if it suits our purposes.
The Catholic church has become a sore on the face of Christianity because it sought to hide its sin from the world. It covered up the shameful conduct of a few priests, rather than to openly admit its imperfections. The militias who called themselves Christians have embarrassed us, because they though t that they could use guns and bombs to defend against imagined evils, rather than the weapons our warfare. And we--we have allowed have allowed, and even encouraged a handful of manipulative, domineering, belligerent people to operate behind the scenes merely because we agreed with their ends.
One characteristic alone makes us different from the unbeliever. When it comes to moral purity and devotion to our God, Muslims have us beat. How many Christians are willing to go on a month long fast, or pray five times a day, or blow themselves up for the cause of their God? When it comes to church discipline the Mormons have us beat. They will discipline a member for drinking tea. Orthodox Jews are more devoted in their zeal for the Law. The Jehovah's Witnesses beat us on evangelistic fervor. The Buddhists beat us on asceticism, and even the Scientologists beat us in percentage giving. But in one area Christians excel--grace. No other group of people in the world believes in a God of grace like ours, that would sacrifice His one and only Son on the Cross fo we who did not deserve it. No other faith believes in a God who Himself is willing to turn the other cheek. In a world of conflict, grace is the one commodity that is shorter than any other.
I know what some people would say. We have the truth, and they do not. But having the truth is no good unless we live it as well. We can't just say we have the truth, we must demonstrate it.
Grace is the greatest weapon in our divine arsenal. We imitate Christ in his willingness to accept and love the sinner. It is the one thing that will turn an enemies into a friend. Unfortunately, it is the one thing we use the least on each other.
I was discussing a statement I made in on of my former blogs, that we have respect for diversity. A friend of mine told me that he used to think so, but no longer. We often act as is there is something wrong with being loving to our enemies, that it is some kind of sappy sentimentality. used by the weak and the naïve to justify our toleration of heresy. I disagree. I don't see how a Savior who included anti-government Zealots and Roman tax collectors among his best friends could ever be accused of seeking absolute agreement of thought on ever issue. Jesus floated through the denominations of Palestinian Jews, loving them all but joining Himself to any. How can such a Savior's name be used to justify the kind of internecine warfare we seem so prone to accept as normal?
ARPs are only be a tiny fish in the great sea of Christendom. Our influence may not extend very far beyond our walls. But for God's sake, let us at least act like Christians. Let's show grace and humility to those we dislike, rather than trying to run them off. Let's humbly admit that we don't have all the answers, we don't know one another's hearts, and that we aren't the paragons of virtue and doctrinal purity e pretend to be. Let's be nothing but saved sinners in a world of sinners who also need saving, and let's lay off the blustering and bloviating for the purpose of making us seem important. Then maybe we will be window to the grace of Christ, instead of walls.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
thoughts on my daughter's wedding
I've been too busy this last week to write much, but now that the big event has come and gone, I can at last give time to reflect upon it. Today We have scheduled nothing to do but rest and recover.
This last weekend my oldest daughter, Iris was married to Richard Smith at our church. Dr. Jack Basie and myself officiated. Jack did the message and the first part of the sermon so I could walk her down the aisle. There were in attendance many members of the church, Iris' friends, and a large contingent of performers from the Renaissance Faire, and about a slew of out of town relatives. Iris, determined to spare us expense, did most of the work herself, and got friends to do what she could not do. She made the bridesmaids' dresses, got most of the food, and printed and rolled the bulletins. A friend's mother made the cake. Another friend made her dress for a very reasonable price. The dress was gorgeous. Her cousin Erin sang beautifully. Another friends sang beautifully. Her sisters and best friend were her bridesmaids, and all went off without a hitch, except when her father, overcome by emotion almost tripped and flubbed his lines. It was a grand and glorious day.
We are exhausted. Our emotions were pulled like taffy all weekend, back and forth between merriment and poignancy. We were happy and sad all at the same time.
I remember the day Iris came into the world. It was another emotional day. For weeks before, we tried to settle on a name. We went page by page through the baby name book, and tried ever name we could think of on our tongue, but none seemed right. Then on a youth trip, someone played a cassette
which had a song about a little girl named Iris. We knew that was who we wanted our daughter to be. Iris means rainbow, God's symbol of new hope. On the wall of the labor room on the day she was born was hung a picture of a rainbow. We took it like Noah did, as a sign of God's favor.
I watched her grow from a child to a woman, always sweet, always kind and beautiful. When she faced trouble, she came out on top. Once she broke her leg on a church youth trip and had her foot in a cast. She taught the group to swing dance--cast and all. When she got out of college, she moved to Japan for two years to teach English. She gained a master's degree in English as a second language, When she was in college, she once got a scholarship for Christian character. She is also an accomplished balloon artists, a seamstress, and an amateur magician. She is quite a girl.
Last Saturday, I walked her down the aisle. Rev. Jack Basie asked the question "Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" I put her hand on Richard' hand, then went forward to complete the ceremony, tripping over myself as I stepped up to the stage. I did all right until I got to the end, when I was about to read the declaration of marriage. I saw the name "iris Rebecca Fleming"--the name we ave her. Now I was giving her to someone else, who would change her name forever to Iris Smith. There she was, radiant and ready to be a wife. I choked up, and almost had to ask Jack to finish the service, but somehow I manage to get out those words "I now pronounce you man and wife."
The deed was done. She belonged to someone else now. Iris Fleming became Iris Smith.
Someone noticed that when she went from being Iris Fleming to Iris Smith, her initials went from IF to IS. It was an appropriate (though accidental) statement. They all start out as an "if"s--if only they would follow the Lord. If only they would be good people. Then they grow up and become an is--the person they would remain. Iris has become a beautiful is, indeed.
Richard, her husband, told me that when they arrived at the church, he saw, a huge rainbow hung in the sky. It was another omen. God was showing his approval, and his hope for the home that was beginning. It was a wonderful, beautiful hope indeed.
Congratulations to you both, if you read this. I'm proud of the both of you.
This last weekend my oldest daughter, Iris was married to Richard Smith at our church. Dr. Jack Basie and myself officiated. Jack did the message and the first part of the sermon so I could walk her down the aisle. There were in attendance many members of the church, Iris' friends, and a large contingent of performers from the Renaissance Faire, and about a slew of out of town relatives. Iris, determined to spare us expense, did most of the work herself, and got friends to do what she could not do. She made the bridesmaids' dresses, got most of the food, and printed and rolled the bulletins. A friend's mother made the cake. Another friend made her dress for a very reasonable price. The dress was gorgeous. Her cousin Erin sang beautifully. Another friends sang beautifully. Her sisters and best friend were her bridesmaids, and all went off without a hitch, except when her father, overcome by emotion almost tripped and flubbed his lines. It was a grand and glorious day.
We are exhausted. Our emotions were pulled like taffy all weekend, back and forth between merriment and poignancy. We were happy and sad all at the same time.
I remember the day Iris came into the world. It was another emotional day. For weeks before, we tried to settle on a name. We went page by page through the baby name book, and tried ever name we could think of on our tongue, but none seemed right. Then on a youth trip, someone played a cassette
which had a song about a little girl named Iris. We knew that was who we wanted our daughter to be. Iris means rainbow, God's symbol of new hope. On the wall of the labor room on the day she was born was hung a picture of a rainbow. We took it like Noah did, as a sign of God's favor.
I watched her grow from a child to a woman, always sweet, always kind and beautiful. When she faced trouble, she came out on top. Once she broke her leg on a church youth trip and had her foot in a cast. She taught the group to swing dance--cast and all. When she got out of college, she moved to Japan for two years to teach English. She gained a master's degree in English as a second language, When she was in college, she once got a scholarship for Christian character. She is also an accomplished balloon artists, a seamstress, and an amateur magician. She is quite a girl.
Last Saturday, I walked her down the aisle. Rev. Jack Basie asked the question "Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" I put her hand on Richard' hand, then went forward to complete the ceremony, tripping over myself as I stepped up to the stage. I did all right until I got to the end, when I was about to read the declaration of marriage. I saw the name "iris Rebecca Fleming"--the name we ave her. Now I was giving her to someone else, who would change her name forever to Iris Smith. There she was, radiant and ready to be a wife. I choked up, and almost had to ask Jack to finish the service, but somehow I manage to get out those words "I now pronounce you man and wife."
The deed was done. She belonged to someone else now. Iris Fleming became Iris Smith.
Someone noticed that when she went from being Iris Fleming to Iris Smith, her initials went from IF to IS. It was an appropriate (though accidental) statement. They all start out as an "if"s--if only they would follow the Lord. If only they would be good people. Then they grow up and become an is--the person they would remain. Iris has become a beautiful is, indeed.
Richard, her husband, told me that when they arrived at the church, he saw, a huge rainbow hung in the sky. It was another omen. God was showing his approval, and his hope for the home that was beginning. It was a wonderful, beautiful hope indeed.
Congratulations to you both, if you read this. I'm proud of the both of you.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad
My parents were married in 1950, when Dad graduated from Georgia Tech on the GI bill. He was a veteran of World War II. she was a southern bell of incomparable beauty. (It's true. I'm not just saying that because she is my mother.) Dad worked as a textile engineer, then became a safety engineer for an insurance company, then as a salesman, and finally as a sales manager and PR representative. Mom stayed home and raised my sister and I while he was on the road.
It's amazing to think what they've seen together--the birth of television, Elvis, Sputnik, civil rights, the Mercury program, man on the moon, a presidential assassination, Woodstock, Watergate, Reagan, the rise of Islam, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the internet, the Millennium, 9-11, and Obama. They have been to England, Spain, Switzerland, Morocco, and most of the US states.
When I was a child, it seemed that we had lived a blessed life. But it has not been easy for my parents. The lived through several major moves. Dad was sometimes on the road for days on end while Mom handled things back home.
When it got older, I realized why my life was easy. Mom and Dad worked hard to make our life safe and happy. Mom and Dad linked their arms above us, giving us the shelter and support we needed to thrive. They bore the burdens that we could not bear, took the pain that we could not endure, and provided the safety we needed to make it in the world.
Joy and I have now been married for thirty-five years. We have tried to follow in my parents' footsteps, providing shelter and support for our girls, as our parents provided it for us.
Have we done as well? Not hardly. There is not a day that I do not ask myself what Dad would do or what Mom would do. I often come up short.
But there is one lesson I learned more than any is this--no matter what happened, the two of them survived and stayed together. Now they have reached sixty years, and love each other as much as they ever did.
So here's to you, Mom and Dad. You are winners in the game of life. You've taught us the meaning of life. God, home family. We never would have made it this far without you. Whatever I have had or done right in life, we owe to both of you. Faithfulness begets faithfulness, courage begets courage, praise begets praise, and joy begets joy. These you have given us these in abundance. I love you, and I hope that the second half of your lives will be as joyful as the first.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Reactions to the Erskine Synod, Part 3
The division between Erskine and the Synod is a bad thing. It has caused chaos on the campus and criticism in the press.
If it were necessary, it would have been worth it. But it was not necessary. Things could have been done more gently and slowly, with greater sensitivity to the people involved.
But it's done, and it cannot be undone. God will work in this situation and bring fruit out of it, regardless. He has set us down this path for a reason, and we need to walk it, seeking His guidance as we go.
On one thing I hope we all agree. We should not let this controversy distract us from the real work of God. Satan, the great illusionist makes us look one way when we should be looking another. Our fallen nature loves a good fight. We love stories with heroes and villains and testosterone-laden calls to battle. But the real enemies are not within our walls. They just outside the wall, egging on dissention and discord within our camp. It's hard to fight each other and love each other at the same time.
So let's ignore the Devil's smoke and mirrors for a while, and remember what we are hear to do.
1. We are here to live under the authority of Scripture. Before I went to Erskine Seminary, I attended a PCUSA seminary for four years. That school was truly liberal. They denied the infallibility and inerrancy of the Scriptures loudly and proudly.
In one class discussion on hermeneutics the professor taught that the Bible was written, not by God, but by fifteen or twenty different "faith communities," each with its own agenda. What was true for one community was not necessarily true to others. According to him, Biblical interpretation meant picking which writings most fit what we thought the Spirit was saying, while ignoring or denying the rest. At that school, the Bible was a kind of do-it-yourself theology kit--a spiritual erector set from which we can construct virtually any doctrine or artifice we wished. The Bible could be made to support whatever was in vogue at the time--women's ordination, gay ordination, Marxism, social Darwinism--whatever. To keep my faith and sanity, I took two sets of notes, one of what the professors said, and another of what I thought about what they said!
I thank God that before I went there, I had attended a genuinely Christian College, where the Bible was taught, and the professors sought to build our faith, not tear it down. I thank God every day for my training in that school. It was what I hope that Erskine will be one day.
Even so, even that Christian college was not perfect. Attending a Christian college is an education in the durability of original sin. We lived in an isolated fortress of Christianity in a pagan world. Our Biblical lifestyle and our fiery commitment to it depended upon us being cocooned away from the world.
If we are going to live by the Bible, why not begin with the parts that the Bible calls the most important--Love of God with all our hearts, and love of our neighbors?
Some groups deny the Bible. Others ignore it. Still others twist it. But the if the Bible isn't stretching us, making us angry, or challenging our beliefs and our actions, we aren't paying attention.
2. We are here to proclaim the Reformed tradition.
The Reformed view of theology is a wonder--beautiful in its simplicity, profound in its implications, wondrous in its depth. Calvin was to Biblical interpretation what Einstein was to physics. His insights into God and the Bible made possible a whole new world in theology, politics, art, and economics.
Lately, there has been a resurgence in Calvinism in America, but not among Presbyterians. Baptists, Anglicans, and even Pentecostals have rediscovered Calvin. But among we Presbyterians we seem to use it more for as a shibboleth to determine who belongs than a living body of theological understanding speaking to our time and culture. It has become a static creed, used to keep the saint in instead of being salt and light to the our lost world.
ARPs hear the Bible and Reformed theology preached. But often we preach it only to the already convinced. We preach it in language that means nothing to people who are not in on Reformed jargon.
In order for the power of our theology to affect the world, people must understand it, an we must understand the people. They don't care about our internal disputes. They care even less about internal disputes from centuries ago. How many churches have been subjected to preaching that refights yesterday's wars, and ignore the very real problems of the people in front of them?
When we get tied up in political and unproductive struggles, we get our eyes off our people.
3. We are to put the Gospel first. While in college I once attended a meeting of the an insightful presentation by Dr. Harold B Kuhn, an evangelical Methodist theologian, on the rise of liberalism in the Methodist Church. When the Methodist Church got its eyes off the Gospel and became obsessed with making a new post-millenial world, they came close to completely wrecking their church. Their goal ceased to be the salvation of Individuals and the saving of souls from hell, but to change the world they lived in now. It wasn't to much to raise the spiritually dead, but to make their coffins more comfortable.
Today Evangelical churches are losing their passion to introduce people to Christ. Megachurches preach a feel-good, positive thinking gospel. The dying mainline preaches social involvement and politics. Much of the conservative church have also been beguiled by the illusion of power politics affords. We've subordinated our spiritual goals for worldly ones, and sought to build institutions before we save souls. If the purpose of the church were to build impressive buildings, then we've succeeded wonderfully. But where are the people?
4. We should love one another.
The mark of true discipleship is not spiritual purity and theological perfection. According to Jesus, it is our love for each other. (John 13:34-35)
We have become more conservative and evangelical and I rejoice in that. But that isn't the all of it. What we do now will determine what kind of Evangelical church we will be? Will we walk the walk, or just talk the talk? Will we behave like Christians, Loving God, the world, and one another? We don't have to agree, but we surely have to treat them as brothers.
We must ask ourselves a burning question, and we must answer. If we disagree, then how will we disagree? Does our disagreement cause us to build each other up, or to tear each other down?
If it were necessary, it would have been worth it. But it was not necessary. Things could have been done more gently and slowly, with greater sensitivity to the people involved.
But it's done, and it cannot be undone. God will work in this situation and bring fruit out of it, regardless. He has set us down this path for a reason, and we need to walk it, seeking His guidance as we go.
On one thing I hope we all agree. We should not let this controversy distract us from the real work of God. Satan, the great illusionist makes us look one way when we should be looking another. Our fallen nature loves a good fight. We love stories with heroes and villains and testosterone-laden calls to battle. But the real enemies are not within our walls. They just outside the wall, egging on dissention and discord within our camp. It's hard to fight each other and love each other at the same time.
So let's ignore the Devil's smoke and mirrors for a while, and remember what we are hear to do.
1. We are here to live under the authority of Scripture. Before I went to Erskine Seminary, I attended a PCUSA seminary for four years. That school was truly liberal. They denied the infallibility and inerrancy of the Scriptures loudly and proudly.
In one class discussion on hermeneutics the professor taught that the Bible was written, not by God, but by fifteen or twenty different "faith communities," each with its own agenda. What was true for one community was not necessarily true to others. According to him, Biblical interpretation meant picking which writings most fit what we thought the Spirit was saying, while ignoring or denying the rest. At that school, the Bible was a kind of do-it-yourself theology kit--a spiritual erector set from which we can construct virtually any doctrine or artifice we wished. The Bible could be made to support whatever was in vogue at the time--women's ordination, gay ordination, Marxism, social Darwinism--whatever. To keep my faith and sanity, I took two sets of notes, one of what the professors said, and another of what I thought about what they said!
I thank God that before I went there, I had attended a genuinely Christian College, where the Bible was taught, and the professors sought to build our faith, not tear it down. I thank God every day for my training in that school. It was what I hope that Erskine will be one day.
Even so, even that Christian college was not perfect. Attending a Christian college is an education in the durability of original sin. We lived in an isolated fortress of Christianity in a pagan world. Our Biblical lifestyle and our fiery commitment to it depended upon us being cocooned away from the world.
If we are going to live by the Bible, why not begin with the parts that the Bible calls the most important--Love of God with all our hearts, and love of our neighbors?
Some groups deny the Bible. Others ignore it. Still others twist it. But the if the Bible isn't stretching us, making us angry, or challenging our beliefs and our actions, we aren't paying attention.
2. We are here to proclaim the Reformed tradition.
The Reformed view of theology is a wonder--beautiful in its simplicity, profound in its implications, wondrous in its depth. Calvin was to Biblical interpretation what Einstein was to physics. His insights into God and the Bible made possible a whole new world in theology, politics, art, and economics.
Lately, there has been a resurgence in Calvinism in America, but not among Presbyterians. Baptists, Anglicans, and even Pentecostals have rediscovered Calvin. But among we Presbyterians we seem to use it more for as a shibboleth to determine who belongs than a living body of theological understanding speaking to our time and culture. It has become a static creed, used to keep the saint in instead of being salt and light to the our lost world.
ARPs hear the Bible and Reformed theology preached. But often we preach it only to the already convinced. We preach it in language that means nothing to people who are not in on Reformed jargon.
In order for the power of our theology to affect the world, people must understand it, an we must understand the people. They don't care about our internal disputes. They care even less about internal disputes from centuries ago. How many churches have been subjected to preaching that refights yesterday's wars, and ignore the very real problems of the people in front of them?
When we get tied up in political and unproductive struggles, we get our eyes off our people.
3. We are to put the Gospel first. While in college I once attended a meeting of the an insightful presentation by Dr. Harold B Kuhn, an evangelical Methodist theologian, on the rise of liberalism in the Methodist Church. When the Methodist Church got its eyes off the Gospel and became obsessed with making a new post-millenial world, they came close to completely wrecking their church. Their goal ceased to be the salvation of Individuals and the saving of souls from hell, but to change the world they lived in now. It wasn't to much to raise the spiritually dead, but to make their coffins more comfortable.
Today Evangelical churches are losing their passion to introduce people to Christ. Megachurches preach a feel-good, positive thinking gospel. The dying mainline preaches social involvement and politics. Much of the conservative church have also been beguiled by the illusion of power politics affords. We've subordinated our spiritual goals for worldly ones, and sought to build institutions before we save souls. If the purpose of the church were to build impressive buildings, then we've succeeded wonderfully. But where are the people?
4. We should love one another.
The mark of true discipleship is not spiritual purity and theological perfection. According to Jesus, it is our love for each other. (John 13:34-35)
We have become more conservative and evangelical and I rejoice in that. But that isn't the all of it. What we do now will determine what kind of Evangelical church we will be? Will we walk the walk, or just talk the talk? Will we behave like Christians, Loving God, the world, and one another? We don't have to agree, but we surely have to treat them as brothers.
We must ask ourselves a burning question, and we must answer. If we disagree, then how will we disagree? Does our disagreement cause us to build each other up, or to tear each other down?
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Remembering a Godly Man
Somewhere in my picture files on this computer, I have a photo I took in Atlanta, at one of the parks there. It is a place where fountains spring up out of a concrete bowl, and people, especially children walk around in the mist, cooling off on a summer day. It's a striking picture. Some of the figures are easily seen, others farther back are in mysty outline, while others are so far back that we can no longer see them.
The photo makes me think of the passage of time. We know the people who occupy the earth with us at this time and place. They are clear and very real. We know he outline of others farther back, who appear as dim outlines in the mist--our grandparents, and great grandparents. But there is a long line of people in the mist we canot see, going back to the first man and the first woman. We know they were here, but we can no longer know who they were.
One generation after another marches into the mist, crossing that impenetrable boundary between this world and the next. As they go, we wish them well. But we know that the others who come after us will never know them, except as dim outlines in the mist.
I thought about that this week when I heard that Frank Williams had passed away. Frank was an elder in the Neely's Creek Church, and a dear friend. He was not a saint, nor was he the worst of sinners, but he was a man who sought to please and honor God in all of his days.
The children who come after him will know of him, but the will not know him. It's sad that they didn't. Frank was a very special man. He was often gruff on the outside but he was always tender and sweet on the inside. Whenever things needed to be done, Frank was there. Whenever a person needed comforting or encouragement, Frank was there to do it.
Some of my fondest memories of Frank were from a trip to Israel we took together. I remember Frank, standing beside me on a boat crossing the Sea of Galilee, looking up at Mount Hermon. "As Herman's dew," He whispered in awe, as he saw the mountain he had sung about his entire life from the Bible Song hymnal. I remember being at a restaurant in Magdela, eating fish with the head on them. "Why can't I just have a hamburger?" he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. I remember swimming with him in the Dead Sea.
I remember Frank and his quiet works of charity, how he worked on buildings for mission buildings and even going to Germany to do menial labor for the mission there. I remember his love for the King James Bible, and how I once caught him with an NIV "That's cause of people like you!" he said with mock gruffness. He was always the first to take in missionaries, the first to come to prayer meeting, and the first to visit the sick. Once when I was sick Frank was the only elder who thought to drop by. I remember Frank and his buddies at Tuesday visitation before they went out to evangelize the lost laughing like schoolboys, calling each other by nicknames they gave each other in elementary school. Most of those friends are gone now, and their laughter fades. It's a shame that the younger generation will never hear it.
Most of all, I remember Frank's devotion to the Gospel, and it's passionate intensity. Frank really knew how to pray. He had experience the grace of God, not just at conversion but through a whole lifetime. He endured tragedies in the family, sickness, misunderstanding, and pain, but Frank never let it stop him. He kept going for the Lord.
Now Frank is in his reward in heaven, and his outline recedes into the mist. But for those who knew him, he left a lasting legacy of dedication, service and love.
The photo makes me think of the passage of time. We know the people who occupy the earth with us at this time and place. They are clear and very real. We know he outline of others farther back, who appear as dim outlines in the mist--our grandparents, and great grandparents. But there is a long line of people in the mist we canot see, going back to the first man and the first woman. We know they were here, but we can no longer know who they were.
One generation after another marches into the mist, crossing that impenetrable boundary between this world and the next. As they go, we wish them well. But we know that the others who come after us will never know them, except as dim outlines in the mist.
I thought about that this week when I heard that Frank Williams had passed away. Frank was an elder in the Neely's Creek Church, and a dear friend. He was not a saint, nor was he the worst of sinners, but he was a man who sought to please and honor God in all of his days.
The children who come after him will know of him, but the will not know him. It's sad that they didn't. Frank was a very special man. He was often gruff on the outside but he was always tender and sweet on the inside. Whenever things needed to be done, Frank was there. Whenever a person needed comforting or encouragement, Frank was there to do it.
Some of my fondest memories of Frank were from a trip to Israel we took together. I remember Frank, standing beside me on a boat crossing the Sea of Galilee, looking up at Mount Hermon. "As Herman's dew," He whispered in awe, as he saw the mountain he had sung about his entire life from the Bible Song hymnal. I remember being at a restaurant in Magdela, eating fish with the head on them. "Why can't I just have a hamburger?" he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. I remember swimming with him in the Dead Sea.
I remember Frank and his quiet works of charity, how he worked on buildings for mission buildings and even going to Germany to do menial labor for the mission there. I remember his love for the King James Bible, and how I once caught him with an NIV "That's cause of people like you!" he said with mock gruffness. He was always the first to take in missionaries, the first to come to prayer meeting, and the first to visit the sick. Once when I was sick Frank was the only elder who thought to drop by. I remember Frank and his buddies at Tuesday visitation before they went out to evangelize the lost laughing like schoolboys, calling each other by nicknames they gave each other in elementary school. Most of those friends are gone now, and their laughter fades. It's a shame that the younger generation will never hear it.
Most of all, I remember Frank's devotion to the Gospel, and it's passionate intensity. Frank really knew how to pray. He had experience the grace of God, not just at conversion but through a whole lifetime. He endured tragedies in the family, sickness, misunderstanding, and pain, but Frank never let it stop him. He kept going for the Lord.
Now Frank is in his reward in heaven, and his outline recedes into the mist. But for those who knew him, he left a lasting legacy of dedication, service and love.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Reactions to the Erskine Synod, Part 2
The ARP church is a hotbed of passive aggression. It's not that we don't fight--we just don't do it openly. Instead, we plot behind our smiles and prayers. Underneath our relative civility, we have the same resentments and disagreements as everyone else.
I'm no different from the majority of my colleagues. I hate conflict too. Small denominations are like small towns--we know that the person we are angry with today will be in our face forever. So we avoid saying things that are upsetting. Often I keep my opinions to myself.
This passive aggression is not entirely bad, mind you. Being unwilling to discuss differences meant that we were willing to tolerate a wide range of people . It has also meant having a long run of blessedly boring synods. But it is also the reason be hind the glacial speed of change in our little family.
The Erskine Synod on March 2 shattered that. Synod may have been civil, but it was not unifying--not by a long shot. One side ran over the other side in a way I haven't seen in thirty years.
Of course Erskine needs to be fixed. There are teachers and administrators who have no business being there. They do not fit with the stated purpose of the college. Some of them have participated in a "culture of intimidation." there have been shocking reports form Erskine regularly for all the decades I've been coming to Synod.
But there is an arc to this story. Erskine has been moving in a good direction. In the Seventies, most of my professors at the seminary denied inerrancy. One seminary professor even told me that he saw nothing wrong with homosexual ordination! A former chaplain once gave a talk (I really can't call it a sermon) in which he told more about his personal doubts truth of the Gospel. Over the years, I have watched the denomination and the Synod become more and more in line with Biblical Christianity and for that I am glad. The same goes for Erskine. Current students are receiving an education that is considerably more Christian than I saw in the Eighties and my daughter saw in he Nineties.
Our denomination has moved slowly, but it has moved. Erskine has moved even slower, but it has moved, too. It is possible that it will not get any better, but I cannot believe that--not with the people I know who are on the board and teaching at the school, I cannot believe it has been headed backwards.
But the school wasn't changing fast enough for the majority of our presbyters. We decided as we approached the end of a decades-long process to push harder and faster--to finish the job quickly with ruthless efficiency.
"Ruthless efficiency" has never been a distinguishing characteristic of our little denomination. Our church has been soft, friendly, and slightly disorganized. But frankly, I've never been a fan of ruthless efficiency. A ruthlessly efficient God would have given up on me years ago. God did not create a world that worked with ruthless efficiency but with glorious chaos and endless diveristy. One of he benefits or our lack of ruthless efficiencey is that we have taken a charitable approach to those with whom we disagree--even those in our own denomination.
We have tolerated people with suspect ideas, but they were not so far out as to not be Christian brothers and sisters. Those on the left who have been uncomfortable have mostly left. They left because they no longer felt at home with the increasingly conservative atmosphere. One of the few places where we can find some of these people is at Erskine.
We could have fired the Erskine board years ago. We could have removed specific board members. But we did not, partially because we knew the mess it would become, but also because of concern to treat respectfully those with whom we disagree.
The people who have run Erskine in the past, the people who have invested their lives, hearts and money in the institution do not want to go quietly.They are using their means and influence to cause a whole lot of trouble to resist. I doubt if they will succeed, but they will leave a big hole in the intitution. What a surprise. We now have law suits, court orders, and a faculty and student body who are at each other's throats.
In reaction, the temperature of the denomination is rising. One note on Facebook suggested we should excommunicate the entire board for ignoring the injunction in I Cor 6 not to take church matters to a secular court.
Taking a brother to court is a form of violence against a brother. But so is using political manipulation to force others to do our will. Church discipline without love is violence, too. And I didn't see much love in the way the commission and other members of the Synod have behaved. Sorry, I wish I could say otherwise. Taking an adversarial approach to the board of Erskine while not informing them of what they were going to do until the very last minute was condescending, to say the least. We cannot do that as a Synod and then wonder why they resent it. I understand that those who have engineered this have done it out of sincere conscience. However, as Paschal famously said, men never do evil so freely or cheerfully as when they do it out of conscience.
Let me go back to where I started. We ARP's are notorious passive-aggressives. If the board is a mess, then who's fault is it? We've been electing them for years. Every year Synod has elected that board, and I cannot remember a single year when those nomination s have been challenged from the floor.
We are a church family. Families argue. If we don't, we aren't a family. But when families do not air our differences, they have a tendency to explode. When the dust settles, we will pick up and go on with the business of seeing the peace, purity and prosperity of the church. Now that we have the purity, let's have a little peace and prosperity.
I'm no different from the majority of my colleagues. I hate conflict too. Small denominations are like small towns--we know that the person we are angry with today will be in our face forever. So we avoid saying things that are upsetting. Often I keep my opinions to myself.
This passive aggression is not entirely bad, mind you. Being unwilling to discuss differences meant that we were willing to tolerate a wide range of people . It has also meant having a long run of blessedly boring synods. But it is also the reason be hind the glacial speed of change in our little family.
The Erskine Synod on March 2 shattered that. Synod may have been civil, but it was not unifying--not by a long shot. One side ran over the other side in a way I haven't seen in thirty years.
Of course Erskine needs to be fixed. There are teachers and administrators who have no business being there. They do not fit with the stated purpose of the college. Some of them have participated in a "culture of intimidation." there have been shocking reports form Erskine regularly for all the decades I've been coming to Synod.
But there is an arc to this story. Erskine has been moving in a good direction. In the Seventies, most of my professors at the seminary denied inerrancy. One seminary professor even told me that he saw nothing wrong with homosexual ordination! A former chaplain once gave a talk (I really can't call it a sermon) in which he told more about his personal doubts truth of the Gospel. Over the years, I have watched the denomination and the Synod become more and more in line with Biblical Christianity and for that I am glad. The same goes for Erskine. Current students are receiving an education that is considerably more Christian than I saw in the Eighties and my daughter saw in he Nineties.
Our denomination has moved slowly, but it has moved. Erskine has moved even slower, but it has moved, too. It is possible that it will not get any better, but I cannot believe that--not with the people I know who are on the board and teaching at the school, I cannot believe it has been headed backwards.
But the school wasn't changing fast enough for the majority of our presbyters. We decided as we approached the end of a decades-long process to push harder and faster--to finish the job quickly with ruthless efficiency.
"Ruthless efficiency" has never been a distinguishing characteristic of our little denomination. Our church has been soft, friendly, and slightly disorganized. But frankly, I've never been a fan of ruthless efficiency. A ruthlessly efficient God would have given up on me years ago. God did not create a world that worked with ruthless efficiency but with glorious chaos and endless diveristy. One of he benefits or our lack of ruthless efficiencey is that we have taken a charitable approach to those with whom we disagree--even those in our own denomination.
We have tolerated people with suspect ideas, but they were not so far out as to not be Christian brothers and sisters. Those on the left who have been uncomfortable have mostly left. They left because they no longer felt at home with the increasingly conservative atmosphere. One of the few places where we can find some of these people is at Erskine.
We could have fired the Erskine board years ago. We could have removed specific board members. But we did not, partially because we knew the mess it would become, but also because of concern to treat respectfully those with whom we disagree.
The people who have run Erskine in the past, the people who have invested their lives, hearts and money in the institution do not want to go quietly.They are using their means and influence to cause a whole lot of trouble to resist. I doubt if they will succeed, but they will leave a big hole in the intitution. What a surprise. We now have law suits, court orders, and a faculty and student body who are at each other's throats.
In reaction, the temperature of the denomination is rising. One note on Facebook suggested we should excommunicate the entire board for ignoring the injunction in I Cor 6 not to take church matters to a secular court.
Taking a brother to court is a form of violence against a brother. But so is using political manipulation to force others to do our will. Church discipline without love is violence, too. And I didn't see much love in the way the commission and other members of the Synod have behaved. Sorry, I wish I could say otherwise. Taking an adversarial approach to the board of Erskine while not informing them of what they were going to do until the very last minute was condescending, to say the least. We cannot do that as a Synod and then wonder why they resent it. I understand that those who have engineered this have done it out of sincere conscience. However, as Paschal famously said, men never do evil so freely or cheerfully as when they do it out of conscience.
Let me go back to where I started. We ARP's are notorious passive-aggressives. If the board is a mess, then who's fault is it? We've been electing them for years. Every year Synod has elected that board, and I cannot remember a single year when those nomination s have been challenged from the floor.
We are a church family. Families argue. If we don't, we aren't a family. But when families do not air our differences, they have a tendency to explode. When the dust settles, we will pick up and go on with the business of seeing the peace, purity and prosperity of the church. Now that we have the purity, let's have a little peace and prosperity.
Friday, March 5, 2010
reflections on the Erskine Synod
I attended my first Synod meeting in 1976 or1977, I cannot remember exactly. It was a hugely different Synod than the ones we see now. All meetings were held in the Chapel. The delegate signs were placed almost halfway up the aisles, and the seats were never full. There was always a cloud of delegates hanging out at all the entrances smoking--mostly ministers. There were lines night and day at all the pay phones. It was as slower, less crowded, and less organized kind of meeting. It was also much less accessible to outsiders. In jokes and folksy stories were prevalent in debate. Often it seemed that the speakers had to establish their pedigrees as ARP's by telling who their daddy and granddaddy was before the got down to saying what they wanted to say.
The biggest difference between then and now was that the people seemed to be more interested in proving they were loyal ARP's than saying anything of substance. It resembled a cross between a dinner on the ground and a brawl.
Even so, the meetings were usually longer, There was far more controversy than there is now. There was a battle going on for the very soul of the church. The church was deciding whether it was going to remain a collection of countrified families, related by blood and friendship, or whether it was actually going to be a church held together by doctrinal statements and mission.
The issue was simple--inerrancy or non-inerrancy. Did the Bible contain factual errors or did it not? This was the issue behind almost everything. The ARP's in the Sixties produced a group of pastors who had been either educated in liberal Southern Presbyterian seminaries, or who had been instructed at Erskine by professors who had attended liberal seminaries. Those not in favor of inerrancy saw the church as a smaller, more folksy version of the PCUS. Those in favor of inerrancy were mainly educated in the upstart Reformed Seminary. Aligned with them were a few old-timers from the days when Erskine was an inerrancy institution.
There were also a sizeable group in the middle. These were some of the born and bred ARPs who were bothered by the word "inerrant" because they could not imagine the church believing in anything else. The Bible was not questioned where they came from, so there was no need to defend it. They had never been challenged by outside influences. They truthfully did not know what all the fuss was about. All they could do is say "why can't we all just get along?"
Back in those days, we who fought for inerrancy were driven by a real fear that the ARP's would lose their faith, like their sister denominations the PCUSA and the Cumberlands. Those denominations were already in membership free-fall and ours was teetering on the edge.
I was an inerrantists and proud of it. I had come out of the mainline church and had seen the powerlessness of an organization that stood for nothing, and therefore stood for anything. I was on that side not only because I believed it and all my friends believed it, but because of the way the non-inerrantist establishment within the church conducted business. Whenever they were challenged in their assumptions, they raised the specter of division. It was all the fault of outsiders who just wanted to agitate. Meanwhile, they tolerated just about everything from those loyal to the institution. It seemed to me then (and still does now that these people stoop to just about anything to protect the institutions they loved from control by outsiders. They did this without a hint of self-criticism or realization that holding blindly to an institution was idolatry.
While the inerrantists and non-inerrantists slugged it out, there was much collateral damage. The first casualty was the Gospel. Both sides seemed to be more interested in defeating heretics than reaching the lost. Love was another casualty. Both sides contributed about equally to the party spirit that rocked the church. A third casualty was the prosperity of the church. No one wanted to have much to do with the little denomination which seemed to have lost their minds.
The longer the debate went on, the more difficult it came to tell the good guys from the bad guys. It became obvious to me that power, not doctrine, was king. The non-inerrantist side used every kind of political chicanery and parliamentary maneuvering to keep power. Eventually as they gained strength, the inerrantists changed from idealists to pragmatists, using the same tactics--political maneuvering, controlling meetings, distortions of their opponents' views, and just plain intolerance. Some of the lead inerrantists enjoyed the power and control that came from the battle more than they loved what they were fighting for.
Even though I was an inerrantist, I was not as conservative as many of them. I had been educated mainly at a Methodist school and a mainline seminary. I finished at Erskine and enjoyed the diversity of that institution. Though I disagreed with most of my professors, I came to love and admire them as people. Because of my past experiences, I never learned the niceties of Reformed culture. learned the buzzwords common to among my other Calvinist friends. Furthermore, I was not convinced (and remain unconvinced) that all rightness and piety resides in the Reformed tradition. So I wondered If my side won, would they one day turn on people like me? Once they ran off their enemies, would they come after their friends?
Today the church has changed and the world has changed. Non-inerrantists in the ARPs are rare as hen's teeth and have no real voice in it. The inerrantists have won completely. As a result, the church has become peaceful, and it has grown considerably. Reformed Seminary now educates the majority of our pastors.
But there are always divisions. We are not nearly as isolated as we once were, having found connections among the emerging counter-society of Calvinists.
Even so I have to ask, are we any closer to loving the lost? Is the ARP salt and light in the world, or have we remained a fortress?
In many ways, the church still seems clueless to what is really happening out there in the larger world. We still think of mainline church as our primary even though their actual influence has shrunk to practically nil. For decades, we watched as liberalism conquered the mainline churches and institutions. We fought their influence and keep them out. But today, the mainline churches have shrunk to ghosts of their former selves, and theological liberalism is dissolving into the cultural mess it always was. We would be hard pressed to name a single religious institution that had fallen to liberalism in the past thirty years. The mainline church is all but dead--for now, at least. There is no need to fear becoming like them. They are in full retreat.
Today we are caught in a new world, with militant atheism and humanism gaining ground on one side, and Islam gaining on the other. Church attendance is waning all around us and we are still not loving the lost. We are so obsessed with fighting for the church that we do not fight for the souls of men. We are still battling each other when we should be battling the Devil. We are still facing inward, and not outward.
Now, let me get to more current history--the called meeting of Synod to deal with Erskine. It seems odd to me that there was no acknowledgement of where the institution has come from and where it is going.
When I was there, all my seminary profs were Barthian. They all rejected inerrancy. Today, we worry about one or two who may not believe in inerrancy deeply enough, or do not use the right terminology. Today, we argue that the college has some non-evangelical professors hired before faith requirements were solid, most of whom have tenure and therefore are extremely hard to fire. Once it was difficult to find more than a handful of professors who were evangelical Christians. We worry about a president who does not enforce the creedal statements. For decades, we had presidents who thought the school was a miniature version of Davidson or Furman. The school has come a long, long way. It has farther to go still, but it has been moving in the right direction.
But that it was not changing fast enough, it seems. The majority of Synod voted to finish the job quickly, no matter what the cost. Maybe they were right.
But consider the collateral damage. The methodology of the change is deeply reminiscent of the old days of he Seventies, when non-inerrantists sought to outmaneuver their opponents. The leaders of our denomination have shown no compunction about being heavy-handed and possibly even underhanded to reform Erskine.
Consider how this was done. A commission is appointed by the moderator, who puts himself and his elders on the commission. This commission gives no printed statements of what it intends to do so that no organized voices can be raised against it. The reason, they say, is because of shocking revelations that should not be made public. When those revelations are finally brought to the floor, they are about things that happened, ten, twenty, and even thirty years ago, and really are not that shocking. This is done at an emergency meeting, leaving little time for thoughtful appraisal. Two weeks before, at a board meeting, the commission brought recommendations to the board, and then changed those recommendations before they were presented. Several board members spoke of threats to dissolve the board if they did not fully agree or comply. Then when they largely agreed, they moved to dissolve them anyway. The commission then hand-picks and interim board which will be responsible for choosing the president, making sure to put on it the board members and other who will not have dissenting opinions, putting themselves on the board. This interim board will in all likelihood be the one to approve the next president. Then the commission attempts to put a body of ex moderators in charge of the ongoing composition of the board, of which half the members are of the same commission.
In the end, Erskine will change. That change will likely be for the better. But the real damage is to our denomination not to Erskine. The openness and trust of the ARPs for each other has been broken, and dissent has been crushed. Like in the old days, no dissent will be tolerated, because no dissenters will be allowed to sit on the board.
This is not right. This is not fair. But it is, and we must accept that. Even if this has pointed us in the right direction, God help what we will become when we arrive.
In Orwell's Animal Farm, the animals on the farm staged a revolution, led by the pigs. They succeed in taking over the farm. But by the end of the book, the pigs who lead the revolution have come to look and act just like the people who once oppressed them. We have ended the thirty-year war to bring our church in line with Evangelical theology, but in the process, we have become like the people we once despised.
And we still don't love the lost.
The biggest difference between then and now was that the people seemed to be more interested in proving they were loyal ARP's than saying anything of substance. It resembled a cross between a dinner on the ground and a brawl.
Even so, the meetings were usually longer, There was far more controversy than there is now. There was a battle going on for the very soul of the church. The church was deciding whether it was going to remain a collection of countrified families, related by blood and friendship, or whether it was actually going to be a church held together by doctrinal statements and mission.
The issue was simple--inerrancy or non-inerrancy. Did the Bible contain factual errors or did it not? This was the issue behind almost everything. The ARP's in the Sixties produced a group of pastors who had been either educated in liberal Southern Presbyterian seminaries, or who had been instructed at Erskine by professors who had attended liberal seminaries. Those not in favor of inerrancy saw the church as a smaller, more folksy version of the PCUS. Those in favor of inerrancy were mainly educated in the upstart Reformed Seminary. Aligned with them were a few old-timers from the days when Erskine was an inerrancy institution.
There were also a sizeable group in the middle. These were some of the born and bred ARPs who were bothered by the word "inerrant" because they could not imagine the church believing in anything else. The Bible was not questioned where they came from, so there was no need to defend it. They had never been challenged by outside influences. They truthfully did not know what all the fuss was about. All they could do is say "why can't we all just get along?"
Back in those days, we who fought for inerrancy were driven by a real fear that the ARP's would lose their faith, like their sister denominations the PCUSA and the Cumberlands. Those denominations were already in membership free-fall and ours was teetering on the edge.
I was an inerrantists and proud of it. I had come out of the mainline church and had seen the powerlessness of an organization that stood for nothing, and therefore stood for anything. I was on that side not only because I believed it and all my friends believed it, but because of the way the non-inerrantist establishment within the church conducted business. Whenever they were challenged in their assumptions, they raised the specter of division. It was all the fault of outsiders who just wanted to agitate. Meanwhile, they tolerated just about everything from those loyal to the institution. It seemed to me then (and still does now that these people stoop to just about anything to protect the institutions they loved from control by outsiders. They did this without a hint of self-criticism or realization that holding blindly to an institution was idolatry.
While the inerrantists and non-inerrantists slugged it out, there was much collateral damage. The first casualty was the Gospel. Both sides seemed to be more interested in defeating heretics than reaching the lost. Love was another casualty. Both sides contributed about equally to the party spirit that rocked the church. A third casualty was the prosperity of the church. No one wanted to have much to do with the little denomination which seemed to have lost their minds.
The longer the debate went on, the more difficult it came to tell the good guys from the bad guys. It became obvious to me that power, not doctrine, was king. The non-inerrantist side used every kind of political chicanery and parliamentary maneuvering to keep power. Eventually as they gained strength, the inerrantists changed from idealists to pragmatists, using the same tactics--political maneuvering, controlling meetings, distortions of their opponents' views, and just plain intolerance. Some of the lead inerrantists enjoyed the power and control that came from the battle more than they loved what they were fighting for.
Even though I was an inerrantist, I was not as conservative as many of them. I had been educated mainly at a Methodist school and a mainline seminary. I finished at Erskine and enjoyed the diversity of that institution. Though I disagreed with most of my professors, I came to love and admire them as people. Because of my past experiences, I never learned the niceties of Reformed culture. learned the buzzwords common to among my other Calvinist friends. Furthermore, I was not convinced (and remain unconvinced) that all rightness and piety resides in the Reformed tradition. So I wondered If my side won, would they one day turn on people like me? Once they ran off their enemies, would they come after their friends?
Today the church has changed and the world has changed. Non-inerrantists in the ARPs are rare as hen's teeth and have no real voice in it. The inerrantists have won completely. As a result, the church has become peaceful, and it has grown considerably. Reformed Seminary now educates the majority of our pastors.
But there are always divisions. We are not nearly as isolated as we once were, having found connections among the emerging counter-society of Calvinists.
Even so I have to ask, are we any closer to loving the lost? Is the ARP salt and light in the world, or have we remained a fortress?
In many ways, the church still seems clueless to what is really happening out there in the larger world. We still think of mainline church as our primary even though their actual influence has shrunk to practically nil. For decades, we watched as liberalism conquered the mainline churches and institutions. We fought their influence and keep them out. But today, the mainline churches have shrunk to ghosts of their former selves, and theological liberalism is dissolving into the cultural mess it always was. We would be hard pressed to name a single religious institution that had fallen to liberalism in the past thirty years. The mainline church is all but dead--for now, at least. There is no need to fear becoming like them. They are in full retreat.
Today we are caught in a new world, with militant atheism and humanism gaining ground on one side, and Islam gaining on the other. Church attendance is waning all around us and we are still not loving the lost. We are so obsessed with fighting for the church that we do not fight for the souls of men. We are still battling each other when we should be battling the Devil. We are still facing inward, and not outward.
Now, let me get to more current history--the called meeting of Synod to deal with Erskine. It seems odd to me that there was no acknowledgement of where the institution has come from and where it is going.
When I was there, all my seminary profs were Barthian. They all rejected inerrancy. Today, we worry about one or two who may not believe in inerrancy deeply enough, or do not use the right terminology. Today, we argue that the college has some non-evangelical professors hired before faith requirements were solid, most of whom have tenure and therefore are extremely hard to fire. Once it was difficult to find more than a handful of professors who were evangelical Christians. We worry about a president who does not enforce the creedal statements. For decades, we had presidents who thought the school was a miniature version of Davidson or Furman. The school has come a long, long way. It has farther to go still, but it has been moving in the right direction.
But that it was not changing fast enough, it seems. The majority of Synod voted to finish the job quickly, no matter what the cost. Maybe they were right.
But consider the collateral damage. The methodology of the change is deeply reminiscent of the old days of he Seventies, when non-inerrantists sought to outmaneuver their opponents. The leaders of our denomination have shown no compunction about being heavy-handed and possibly even underhanded to reform Erskine.
Consider how this was done. A commission is appointed by the moderator, who puts himself and his elders on the commission. This commission gives no printed statements of what it intends to do so that no organized voices can be raised against it. The reason, they say, is because of shocking revelations that should not be made public. When those revelations are finally brought to the floor, they are about things that happened, ten, twenty, and even thirty years ago, and really are not that shocking. This is done at an emergency meeting, leaving little time for thoughtful appraisal. Two weeks before, at a board meeting, the commission brought recommendations to the board, and then changed those recommendations before they were presented. Several board members spoke of threats to dissolve the board if they did not fully agree or comply. Then when they largely agreed, they moved to dissolve them anyway. The commission then hand-picks and interim board which will be responsible for choosing the president, making sure to put on it the board members and other who will not have dissenting opinions, putting themselves on the board. This interim board will in all likelihood be the one to approve the next president. Then the commission attempts to put a body of ex moderators in charge of the ongoing composition of the board, of which half the members are of the same commission.
In the end, Erskine will change. That change will likely be for the better. But the real damage is to our denomination not to Erskine. The openness and trust of the ARPs for each other has been broken, and dissent has been crushed. Like in the old days, no dissent will be tolerated, because no dissenters will be allowed to sit on the board.
This is not right. This is not fair. But it is, and we must accept that. Even if this has pointed us in the right direction, God help what we will become when we arrive.
In Orwell's Animal Farm, the animals on the farm staged a revolution, led by the pigs. They succeed in taking over the farm. But by the end of the book, the pigs who lead the revolution have come to look and act just like the people who once oppressed them. We have ended the thirty-year war to bring our church in line with Evangelical theology, but in the process, we have become like the people we once despised.
And we still don't love the lost.
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