Togetherness and the Real Front Line

On my last evening in Geneva, I reflect briefly on various evangelical ecumenisms.  I would not be a part of those that we evangelicals usually refer to as the ecumenists–like the World Council of Churches.  (Don’t they have offices somewhere here in Geneva?)   

There is another kind of togetherness that I have publicly objected to–Evangelicals and Catholic TOGETHER.  While I wish all of these men well, and some of them are good friends of mine, I fear that some of them–Protestant and Roman Catholic–have so elevated what they understand to be implications of the Gospel to be of equal importance to, and even to be part of, the Gospel itself.  And when that is done, moral agreements may seem to diminish the difference, and at least the significance of the difference, between Rome’s understanding of salvation, and that which we understand the Bible to teach.  And in such a situation the cultural periphery is temporarily shored up, while the theological heart sinks into dangerous confusion.  Such togetherness is purchased at too high a price.

There is yet another kind of togetherness that I HAVE been involved in–TOGETHER for the Gospel.  Here we have come together with NO disagreements over the Gospel, but rather having our disagreements reserved for secondary, though important, issues.  In the last few weeks, however, I’ve been asked a couple of interesting questions about T4G that I thought might be of interest to you, dear reader.  One dear friend asked me if T4G was a 5-point Calvinst rally.  He (a non 5-point Calvinist) asked me this in the best spirit, and I told him honestly that it was a fine question, and that the conference was more a natural outgrowth of friendships.  I even had another friend, an Arminian, tell me how much he appreciated T4G and encouraged me to do whatever I could to "reach out" to Bible-believeing Arminians.  This friend was, perhaps, calling for a meeting for another kind of TOGETHERNESS–Calvinists and Arminians TOGETHER! 

Friends, I will let Al, CJ & Lig explain what they think about cooperation with other evangelicals, but I have always been at least an informal member of Calvinists and Arminians Together!  I’m a Southern Baptist!  I was involved in Inter-Varsity!  I went to Gordon-Conwell!  You may look in the recently released What is a Healthy Church? (Crossway, 2007) and find that it is dedicated to 3 pastors.  Who are they?  Harold Purdy was my pastor growing up at First Baptist Church, Madisonville, KY, and he was a prince of a man and a fine expositional preacher.  Wally Thomas was, during my high school years, an equally fine pastor of First United Methodist Church, and a warm preacher of the Gospel and lover of God’s people.  And Ed Henegar was my pastor during my college years, pastor of Blacknall Memorial Presbyterian Church (then PCUS) in Durham, NC.  Ed was a wonderful older brother, minister of the Word and pre-marital counsellor.  We had the honor of having Ed marry us.  I will always appreciate his meditations on the Lord’s Supper, and the confidence I had every time I went to church that I would hear him speak from God’s Word.  So, I deliberately dedicated What is a Healthy Church?  to a Baptist, a Methodist and a Presbyterian pastor.  I didn’t make it explicit, but I thought that right now it might be a small encouragement to help us realize where the real front line is.

The real front line is not between Calvinist evangelicals and Arminian evangelicals.  It is between those who are lost in their sins and those who have been saved by God’s sheer grace in Christ.  And this is not, of course, a war of flesh and blood, but a loving "assault" of sheep charging the wolves with the Good News of Jesus Christ, sheep who were themselves once at enmity with God.  Our "weapons" to use the Biblical metaphor (Eph. 6:10-17), are spiritual.  Here, on this real front line of conflicting worldviews and God-views, there is much togetherness in the Gospel by evangelical believers.  500 years ago Rome warned us that we Protestants would continue to split into countless groups, if we split with them over this.  Well, 500 years of history have passed, and the verdict is in resoundingly.  Rome was wrong.  The Gospel is clear.  Wherever we may mail our checks for missionary support, a Free Methodist evangelist in Brazil, an Assembly of God pastor in the Philippines, an Bible-believing Lutheran pastor in Ethiopia or a conservative Dutch Reformed Christian in South Africa, an evangelical Church of Scotland grandmother, a conservative Anglican in London, and a Southern Baptist deacon in Dallas, when they sit down next to someone on the bus or the plane, and share the Gospel with them, will all share the same Gospel–the good news about the Holy God who sent his Son to die and be raised for the justification of sinners.  And that we experience God’s forgiveness and new life through faith alone in Christ alone.  We don’t need a bishop in Rome or anywhere else to tell us this.  We don’t need a world-wide organization.  We just need the Holy Spirit, the Bible and the faithful teaching of this gospel by any one of thousands of congregations around the globe faithful to this gospel. 

The Gospel is the real front line.  And the Gospel is what all of us evangelicals are really together for.  Whatever conference we may go to.

Church Matters

Just a note to let you know that we have now started a 9marks blog called "Church Matters".  You can find it at 9marks.org.   A number of friends and I will be discussing issues related especially to the local church.  I hope it will be a good discussion.  Check it out.  (Maybe I won’t be a lonely blogger over there!)

One for Fathers

John Paton was a Scottish missionary to the Islands of the South Pacific. He died 100 years ago this year. He was born in 1824. He went out to the Islands at the age of 34 in 1858. And there he labored for the rest of his long life. After 31 years, he wrote his autobiography. In it, he remembered the time—almost 50 years earlier—when his dear father had walked him out of his village, and toward Glasgow, where his future lay. And with 50 years having gone, Paton was still obviously affected by this man who so trusted in God, feared Him, and delighted in pleasing Him.

I started out from my quiet country home on the road to Glasgow. Literally “on the road,” for from Torthorwald to Kilmarnock—about forty miles—had to be done on foot, and thence to Glasgow by rail. Railways in those days were as yet few, and coach traveling was far beyond my purse. A small bundle, tied up in my pocket-handkerchief, contained my Bible and all my personal belongings. Thus was I launched upon the ocean of life. I thought on One who says, “I know thy poverty, but thou art rich.”

My dear father walked with me the first six miles of the way. His counsels and tears and heavenly conversation on that parting journey are fresh in my heart as if it had been but yesterday; and tears are on my cheeks as freely now as then, whenever memory steals me away to the scene. For the last half-mile or so we walked on together in almost unbroken silence,–my father, as was often his custom, carrying his hat in hand, while his long, flowing yellow hair (then yellow, but in later years white as snow) streamed like a girl’s down his shoulders. His lips kept moving in silent prayers for me; and his tears fell fast when our eyes met each other in looks for which all speech was vain! We halted on reaching the appointed parting place; he grasped my hand firmly for a minute in silence, and then solemnly and affectionately said:

“God bless you, my son! Your father’s God prosper you, and keep you from all evil!”

Unable to say more, his lips kept moving in silent prayer; in tears we embraced, and parted. I ran off as fast as I could; and, when about to turn a corner in the road where he would lose sight of me, I looked back and saw him still standing with head uncovered where I had left him—gazing after me. Waving my hat in adieu, I was round the corner and out of sight in an instant. But my heart was too full and sore to carry me further, so I darted into the side of the road and wept for a time. Then, rising up cautiously, I climbed the dyke to see if he yet stood where I had left him; and just at that moment I caught a glimpse of him climbing the dyke and looking out for me! He did not see me, and after he had gazed eagerly in my direction for a while he got down, set his face towards home, and began to return—his head still uncovered, and his heart, I felt sure, still rising in prayers for me. I watched through blinding tears, till his form faded from my gaze; and then, hastening on my way, vowed deeply and oft, by the help of God, to live and act so as never to grieve or dishonour such a father and mother as He had given me. The appearance of my father, when we parted—his advice, prayers, and tears—the road, the dyke, the climbing up on it and then walking away, head uncovered—have often, often, all through life, risen vividly before my mind, and do so now while I am writing, as if it had been but an hour ago. In my earlier years particularly, when exposed to many temptations, his parting form rose before me as that of a guardian Angel. It is no Pharisaism, but deep gratitude, which makes me here testify that the memory of that scene not only helped, by God’s grace, to keep me from the prevailing sins, but also stimulated me in all my studies, that I might not fall short of his hopes, and in all my Christian duties, that I might faithfully follow his shining example.” (Paton, Autobiography, pp. 25-26)