Synod, First Night

Do you remember that famous YouTube video, shot at an African watering hole, of a lion, a croc, and a herd of wildebeests?  The lion is seen stalking the wildebeests until he spies one of the young, weak ones.  He charges the herd and pounces, carrying off the young. Meanwhile the croc, grabs the same calf from the water. While all this is going on, the wildebeests regroup, charging the lion and the croc. The great bull leader charges down on the lion, horns flashing until the lion lets go and the young calf escapes.
Tonight, I felt as if I had seen it all over again.  Only this time it wasn't the great bull of the herd. It was our moderator, Andy Putnam.  And it wasn't a watering hole. It was the floor of Synod, in a worship service.
Tonight Andy preached on Acts 20,  about wolves among the flock.  Without mentioning names, Andy identified the wolves as people who want to be leaders, who crave attention, who desire to divide and conquer us by petty differences and by doctrinal peccadilloes, who would sacrifice our unity to excessive purity. To these people, Andy suggested three remedies.
First, identify them.  It's no use being nice about it.  Call division what it is.
Second, shoot-em. Not literally, of course, just don't let them go unanswered.
Third, starve them,  Whatever you do, don't let them get started with divisive talk.
Andy's a nice guy. I've known him for years. He bends over backwards to maintain unity and peace within the church. That is how he got to be moderator.  Everyone likes and trusts him.
But apparently, the bull also has a pair of horns.
We ARP's have been for a long time like  herd of wildebeests,  feeding peacefully together, safe and secure in our own little corner or the world,  oblivious to the predators who strike and divide.  We've been for too long that way.  Well, no more.  Andy has shown us how to bellow when necessary.  I hope others will speak up in defense of the flock and the Gospel as well.
There's a famous poem by an Austrian pastor written during the Nazi occupation.
First they came for the Communists
But I did not speak out
Since I was not a Communist.
Then the came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Since I am not a Jew
Then they came for the labor unionists
But it was silent
Because I am not a labor unionist
Then they came for me,
and there was no one left
To speak out on my behalf.
Once we allow people to misrepresent others as unbelievers, to complain against those who do not deserve it, misrepresenting them, maligning their reputation and driving them out,  how long will it be until we ourselves are driven out as well.
I do not agree with many things at Erskine, or for that matter in the rest of the church, but I am brother to them all.
Those who would disturb our peace deserve our prayers.  Many of them are sincere. Those who are not need our prayers even more.
But let's all circle around and guard the herd, as Andy suggests, and maybe then we can see the church grow and prosper again. 

The Strength of Synod

Next week may be my last Synod.  The price of attendance has gone up form thirty to fifty-eight dollars.  I have just spent almost two hundred dollars on a hotel room.   When  food and gas are included in the price it should be over three hundred.  Besides the price,  in the future I may not be able to reschedule my classes to accommodate the time away.

 All in all, not much that happens on the floor seems worth the trouble. The impact of most of the speeches, greetings, presentations, urging, encouraging, rebuking,  informing, and thanking will last about as long as the wind it takes to pass them.  Only what effects the actual running of local churches or church institutions makes any difference.  The rest is pageantry.

Thinking back over my last thirty-two Synods, the one thing that I would truly miss are the people I have met. They are truly important, and usually have made the trip worthwhile.

What difference would it make if Synod were to dissolve tomorrow?  Would a single church close if it did?  Last fall I watched four  churches close, yet few of their members remain unchurched today, and those who have not yet found new churches are still going,  visiting around.  They have not stopped going to church, they are just been attending different churches. Any American Christian should be able to find a church.  Any church within our denomination ought to be able to find some Reformed body who would welcome them.  As an institution, we are simply not as important as we think. 

But if the ARP church dissolved, the true sadness of it would not be in the loss of institutions,  but the  disruption of friendships. If this is my last Synod, it would be the people I  would miss, not the institution.

Synod has been for me a time of sorrows and joy.  My thirty-two Synods have been a succession of friendships gained, lost, regained, and gone--colleagues of my  youth have moved on, retired, or simply passed away. There have been times when I have gone up the mountain to celebrate with my friends . Other times, I have gone up sadly, ashamed to meet my brothers, needing their kind words.  Sometimes, I have gone up the hill angry,  but I have always knew that there were people there who knew me, and I them.  This made me feel happy to come,  regardless of the circumstances. 

I have enjoyed the stories of people I have just met, the opportunities to  pray for others and to be prayed for, the chance to network  and share ideas.  Synod has been a place where I could meet heart to heart and soul to soul, and know together the love of God reflected in others.

What happens under the trees and in the dining hall is what Synod is really about, much more than what happens on the floor.  It is the most truly ARP thing about us.

Faith is about relationships--relationship to God and relationships to others.  The business  on the floor is about defending the status quo or reforming institutions, about worrying over money and power and other worthless things,  squeezing and fussing over particulars, so we can go on being institutions.  The structure quickly overcomes the purpose, like a family  that is more concerned about the house they live in than the home inside.  Like that family, we go on fighting over the color of the drapes and the condition of the carpet, neglecting the spiritual and emotional conditions of those we love so we can "get things done." 

Church is a great place to go if you want to run away from God--that is, if you  reduce the Body of Christ to an institution, members of of the Body reduced to church members, shepherd reduced to an office and Christ reduced to a symbol.  The official church moves on,  without the power to touch or heal anyone. In spite of our institutional order, though, the Body of Christ abides and the gates of hell cannot prevail against it. 

The strength of Synod has very little to do with what we do, but in what we choose to be--brothers and sisters  gathered in a caring community.  This is what makes us different from all other bodies I know.  We actually see each other face to face once a year.   When we forget the importance of these relationships and think of a denominational meeting as a theology class, debating society, or (God forbid) a political body,  we usually end up doing more harm than good.  When we let our strength, shine, though, Synod becomes a positive experience.