THE CONVERSION OF ROY COGHILL
By LEROY GARRETT

Charles Bolt enjoyed his leisurely drive from Wichita Falls. It was relaxing to be alone for a change, and it was always a pleasure for him to study the tall pines that punctuated the fertile fields alongside the beautiful East Texas highways. It was nearly suppertime by the time he approached Lufkin, and yet he noticed that some of the sawmills were still at work. Everything looked prosperous. It was to be a great weekend. It was a balmy evening; ideal weather for an unpredictable Texas winter. He was looking forward to some happy hours with his friends Yater Phant and Roy Coghill. He drove straight to the Gunnery Publishing Company.

Only Yater Phant was still at work at the Gunnery office. If he were to get away for the West Coast next week for those meetings, he would have to lay up enough copy for three issues of the Gunnery. And there was at least one more editorial to prepare. Copy! Proofreading! Deadlines! Ads! Money! These editorial responsibilities Yater was taking in his stride. He was a veteran of such chores. But there was something bothering him, which made the simpler tasks more difficult. It was Roy Coghill. Something was happening to Roy. He decided not to bother Charles with it. Perhaps he was unduly alarmed. It was the first time in months that the three of them could be together for dinner. He would not spoil it with his misgivings.

Charles had no more than arrived until he was busy thumbing through the mail that Yater had set aside for him. “It would thrill your soul, Yater, to realize what the Gunnery is doing for the Lord’s People,” said Charles as he sat down on a corner of the editor’s desk. “It now seems to be a matter of salvaging what we can, and I’m hopeful that we may gain a large remnant for the truth,” Yater responded, fingering a fistful of letters from loyal preachers across the country. Gesturing at Charlie with the letters, he said: “These fellows are sacrificing for the Cause; some of them have had their support cut off in the mission field, but they’re supporting themselves and carrying on; others have had good jobs with churches, but they’ve been kicked Out because they would not bow the knee to Baal.”

Charlie noticed one letter in particular from an old friend in Alabama, and observed: “He is an example of how far the institutional brethren will go to get faithful gospel preachers to line up and make a confession. They’ve all but crucified that poor brother.” “Hasn’t he started a loyal church there in North Alabama?” asked the editor. “Yes, he has. It was either that or make a confession in the Advocate,” said Charlie assuringly.

“By the way, where is Roy? Isn’t it time for him?” inquired Charles. “He’s to meet us at the house,” replied Yater, “and I guess we’d better be on our way.” Yater reached for his coat and said, “I realize, brother Charles, that the pressures of institutionalism and liberalism are terrific. It takes courage for a faithful gospel preacher to stand up against those who would divide the church with their digressions.”

“Don’t you suppose we have as many as a thousand preachers that are sound, Yater” Charles inquired. “A lot more than that, I’d say, especially if you count those that are leaning toward the truth” insisted Yater as he opened the door for his guest. He added: “They haven’t all yielded to Goodfield’s financial pressure, you know.”

“There may be some compensations from the ever widening division among the Lord’s people,” continued Yater, “for it has brought a kind of sifting. We have reason to be grateful to Cy Woods, Early Harper, and B. C. Goodfield, for they have helped to separate the sound from the unsound. By getting the self-seeking time-servers into one group, it leaves the loyal churches with men of true consecration who may go about the task of preaching the pure gospel. The half-converted preachers may beat their drums for ‘our institutions’ among the liberal churches, but it will be the truly dedicated and consecrated men of courage and conviction who will preach the truth.”

On the way out to the Yater home the two preachers canvassed each other’s ideas about certain preachers, whether they would go institutional or remain loyal. It seemed that most of the big churches with their supposedly big preachers had gone Herald of Truth. But there was no reason to be discouraged, for numerous congregations had been divided, the sound brethren had ‘Come out from among them’ and started faithful churches. “Only within the last few years,” Yater pointed out, “we have a loyal Church of Christ in a score of new cities across the country.”

As they pulled into the driveway the preachers were laughing about the churches of the institutional camp claiming to be “on the march” and “the fastest growing religious body in America.” Yater got a big kick out of the cooperative church that boasted of having “the biggest Sunday School in the Church of Christ.” But Yater was dead serious as he said to his guest from west Texas, gesturing at him with an empty glove: “Brother Charles, it is a question of whether men believe in the all-sufficiency of God’s church to do the work God wants it to do. They simply do not want the Book. They had rather search for new gimmicks so as to build up their numbers than to preach the gospel of Christ.”

As the men walked toward the door Charles was asking something about the prospect for a faithful church in Waco, that he had heard that there were some loyal brethren in the Herring Ave. congregation that were disturbed over liberalism, and that they had left that digression and identified themselves with the truth . . . But Yater made no reply, for his mind had turned to Roy Coghill, the courageous and able defender of the faith. He was fearful that something tragic was happening to Roy. For sometime Roy had not talked like Roy. “Roy Coghill was not getting liberal, of course,” the editor assured himself, “but he has made a few loose remarks that I would not want to see in the Gunnery.”

“Oh, well, that was a month ago,” Yater said to himself, “Roy’s trips to Canada usually fire him up. Perhaps he’ll be his good old self tonight.” Yater was waiting with his hand on the doorknob while Charles tried to disentangle himself from two neighborhood dogs that had momentarily tied him up at the steps in their scuffle. “Reminds me of the Indianapolis debate,” chuckled Charles as he worked himself free. “Now don’t tell me that Totty and Watson were that hard on you!” retorted Yater as he opened the door to an evening with Roy Coghill.

That evening Yater Phant studied his friend Roy Coghill more keenly than ever before. He watched him carefully as he talked to Charles across a cup of coffee. That night Roy seemed more Christian than ever-humbler, kinder, more concerned, more like Jesus. Yater thought of the times he’d heard Roy preach — and who can preach like Roy? There was an inner glow as he thought of how Roy vanquished the proud Cy Woods with a scriptural logic that is rare to behold. And his articles in the Gunnery — how they are needed! — if only he’d write more! Roy is a good man, a great Christian, and Yater knew it. Even bereavement had added to his stature. The more he scrutinized Roy the more certain he was that he was as sound as a dollar. Those careless remarks he had made were meaningless, so he’d forget them if he hadn’t already. All was well. Yater knew it. He parked his feet on the hassock before him and leaned back to sip on his second cup of coffee while Charles and Roy talked on and on about Canada.

Then it came. Like a bolt of lightning it came. Roy calmly mentioned his appreciation for a pastor of the United Church of Canada with whom he had had extended conversations. “I certainly appreciate his devotion to Christ,” said Roy with a deep sense of brotherliness. “He is surely the best Christian that I met in all Canada. I would like to do some work with him,” Roy added.

Charles looked across at Yater. Yater shifted uneasily in his chair. Both were sure that they had misunderstood. Charles lowered his eyebrows and moved to the edge of his sear: “What did you say, Roy?” Without looking up from the coffee that Mrs. Phant had kindly warmed for him, he replied: “I am speaking of Phillip Moffat, a minister in the United Church of Canada and as fine a man as you could ever expect to meet. He’s every inch a Canadian too.” Looking over to Yater he added with a gentle laugh: “Phil Moffat is so British that he passes out cigars when the Queen has a baby!”

Charles broke into Roy’s solo laughter: “Did you say he was a Christian — the best Christian you’d met in all Canada, and that you would like to work with him?” Roy threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Oh, I see what’s bothering you now, brother Charlie,” he said. Then more seriously he said to Charles as he leaned toward him: “Yes, indeed, Phil Moffat is a Christian if any of us is. I only wish I were as devoted as he. I can hear him now as he speaks so gently of the Savior’s love.”

“But has he been baptized?” asked Charles.

“Indeed he has, Charlie, and I wish you could hear him tell what that experience meant to him.”

“Was he immersed?” Charlie continued.

“Yes, he was. His own father, a Presbyterian preacher, immersed him In a pond on the family farm in Ottawa,” replied Roy.

“For the remission of sins?” Charlie asked.

“Come now, Charlie, I didn’t give the fellow the third degree about his baptism . . . From what I can see in the man, I would say he was a sincere believer in Christ, and that being the case I am sure that his baptism was for the remission of sins. God takes care of that part, you know.”

“You mean you didn’t ask him?” insisted Charlie.

“We did talk about baptism several times to be sure,” Roy recalled as he reached for a mint on the table beside him, “but I don’t recall that that point came up.”

Brother Charlie put his coffee down, stood up and walked around his chair, and standing behind his chair he looked across to Roy Coghill with an incredulous gaze: “Are you telling me, Roy, that you talked to a sectarian preacher several times about baptism and did not even mention Acts 2:38?”

Roy was sympathetic towards Charlie’s excitement: “I didn’t say we didn’t mention Acts 2:38. I just don’t recall that we did. We spent considerable time talking about the blessings of obedience to Christ, especially about the gift of the Holy Spirit — Oh, yes, I recall that Acts 2:38 was discussed in connection with the Holy Spirit.”

Charlie looks at Yater and says, “I can’t believe my ears. Whoever heard of a gospel preacher calling a sectarian minister a Christian. He wants to work with the fellow! This can’t be Roy Coghill! Come now, Roy, if you’re kidding us . . .”

Yater was studying Roy with a worried look, but he had never seen him so gentle, so kind, so Christlike. He watched as Roy rose from his chair and politely gestured for brother Charlie to sit back down, saying to him quietly: “Let me tell you about this good Canadian brother. . .”

“But he’s not your brother, Roy, if he hasn’t been baptized for the remission of sins,” Charlie blustered.

“Wait a moment and listen,” Roy said peacefully. “Phil Moffat has a little church in Renfrew, Ontario, near Ottawa, where he was reared by a pious father who taught him to love God above all else. Phil dedicated his life to the Lord at an early age and has served Him all his life. The man lives for Christ. He takes special interest in missions for the poor in Ottawa and Montreal, giving of what little money he has to feed the poor and giving his time to tell them about Christ. Only a small part of his preaching is in the pulpit of his village church. Those who know his life speak of his dedication to the alleviation of human misery of whatever kind.”

“I met this preacher in a hospital in Ottawa,” Roy went on in obvious admiration of his new friend. “He was spending the day with a boy badly injured in a teenage gang fight. He stayed right with that kid, working with him for weeks, until he won him for the Lord . . .”

“Roy, I’m not for a moment questioning the man’s sincerity, but . . .” said Charlie in an unsuccessful interruption.

“It was in these visits with him at the hospital that I came to see what Christianity can do for a fellow. He hesitated to tell me about his afflicted wife; it is surely a sad story — a blood condition which has plagued them for fifteen years. His two little girls keep things going at home. He is also burdened, with his aged father who lives with him and who is sick half the time. Above all this his church board harasses him for being ‘a tramp preacher.’ You know, you’ve heard of the criticism before: ‘he associates with publicans and sinners.’ Though the little town as a whole praises him, the leaders of his own church do not appreciate him. They want him to sip tea with the sisters and join the Lions Club instead of wasting his time at missions, hospitals for the poor, and teenage gangs.”

Roy sat back down to finish his story. “Despite all his hardships Phil Moffat is radiant with the Spirit of Christ. He never complains. He is in this world to minister, not to be ministered to. My association with him has helped me to realize that the purpose of Christianity is to conform men to the image of Jesus Christ. ‘For me to live is Christ’ is the way Paul put it. He also said, ‘Christ lives in me.’ This is what I see in this Canadian preacher: I see Christ. I do not see a stingy, selfish, shriveled soul that is so interested in his own comforts that he is unaware of the misery around him. I see love, concern, pity, understanding. I see warmtb. I see passion for the souls of men. To be around a man like that — somebody who really loves Jesus — causes me to pour contempt on all my pride.”

Charles was less eager to speak than before. He listened while Roy added: “Phillip Moffat is our brother, Charlie, even if he is in the United Church of Canada. He is a Christian, and I would be glad to work with him because he works for my Lord.”

“I can see that you have met a fine moral man,” said Charlie, “but a man is not a Christian unless he has obeyed the gospel” Then he added with an emphatic rap on the table beside him: “You’re not talking like a seasoned gospel preacher. You know as well as I that Jesus said ‘He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved.’ I don’t care how good a person this Moffat fellow is, he is not a Christian unless he has obeyed the gospel.”

“I thought I made it clear that the man is an immersed believer . . .”

“But he wasn’t baptized for the remission of sins,” insisted Charlie. “He wasn’t baptized by a gospel preacher. He isn’t a member of the Church of Christ. Perhaps he’s as devoted and religious as you say, but he’s a sectarian. He belongs to a man-made church. He is no Christian.”

Roy was patient with Charlie, for he could see himself thinking like that only a short time since. He too had equated the kingdom of God on earth with his own narrow sectarian party. He too had believed that the only Christians in the world were those that he and his brethren had baptized. Moreover his exclusivism had rejected even those in his own Church of Christ who differed with him on such things as instrumental music and the millennial reign. He had refused to call on men to pray to the God of heaven or even to recognize them as Christians because they used a piano in their worship!

He had indeed equated the New Testament ecclesia with what his brethren were calling the Church of Christ. All the Christians were cornered off in that church, leaving all the rest of Christendom as pagan or sectarian! “Yes,” Roy thought to himself, “for forty years I thought our folk were the only Christians and I had no fellowship with other children of God.” So I can’t expect Charlie and Yater to understand in a few hours what it has taken me months to see. Poor Charlie sitting there. It has never occurred to him that he may be far more sectarian than a man like Phillip Moffat. And there sits Yater, a man who supposes he is saving ‘the church’ from apostasy. He could not even begin to entertain the idea that he is but a party man who edits a party organ. He divides the body of Christ in the name of truth! He alienates brethren and encourages conflict on behalf of Jesus Christ! Yes, he is a Christian, but a terribly misguided one. He cannot see afar off.”

Roy knew that he could not say all that he thought, but he decided a few words might be helpful. In any event, however, he must show longsuffering. He must love like Jesus loves.

“Brother Charlie, you say my friend Phillip Moffat is a sectarian. What does this term mean to you?” asked Roy.

“Well, a sectarian is one who supports sectarianism. He’s a member of a sect instead of the true church.”

“And by sect you mean what?”

“A sect is a denomination, a man-made church — ‘a plant that the heavenly Father hath not planted’ (Matt. 15:13).”

“The United Church of Canada is a sect then, and friend Phil is a sectarian because he belongs to it?” asked Roy.

“Absolutely,” insisted Charlie.

“But haven’t we brethren in these liberal Churches of Christ that are not themselves liberal? Aren’t there many who are not Herald of Truth even though they are members of an institutional church?”

“Yes, Id say there are many, but they ought to stand up and be counted.”

“Then you admit, Charlie, that people are not liberals and institutionalists just because they belong to churches of such persuasion?”

“Yes.”

“Then might Phil Moffat be a member of a sectarian body without being himself sectarian?”

“Well, I see your point. He might be a true Christian even though worshiping with a sect, you are saying. Perhaps so, but in such a case he ought to come out from among them and be separate.”

“What would he come into? Are not the denominations so divided that such a man would decide that one division is just as good (or bad!) as the next one?”

“Now, Roy, you know that the Church of Christ is not a denomination. Why can’t a man obey the gospel and simply be a member of the Lord’s church?”

“You have to realize, Charlie, that it might not be quite so simple — or evident — to a man like my Canadian friend as it is to you that the Church of Christ is the one and only church. After all, the Church of Christ is more divided than most any of the denominations, and it too may be wrong about some things. As for being ‘a member of the Lord’s church’ is it not possible for one to belong to the true body of Christ and still be affiliated with some sect. That is, being a Christian in spite of being a member of a sectarian church. Indeed, wasn’t this the case with the pioneer preachers. They were in different denominations and were baptized by various sectarian preachers, but they were Christians, were they not? Alexander Campbell, for instance, was baptized by a Baptist preacher and became a true Christian long before he had membership in what later became known as a Church of Christ.”

“Well, I see your point,” said Charlie. “Perhaps there are Christians among the sects, but they cease to be true Christians if they do not worship in spirit and in truth. They become sectarians when they condone the errors of sectarianism. They ought to come out and be separate.”

“Does this mean that they ought to come into the Church of Christ?”

“Yes, it means that. If they are Christians, they ought to be identified with the Lord’s people and worship according to the New Testament.”

“But aren’t some Churches of Christ sectarian? Aren’t some liberal and institutional?”

“Yes.”

“Then the Christians leaving the sects in order to come into the Church of Christ will have to find the right kind of Church of Christ — our kind!

“Now, Roy, what kind of talk is this? You’re talking like you think one church is just as good as another.”

“Perhaps I am saying that one church is just as sectarian as another, or at least I am suspicious that we are just as sectarian as any of them,” Roy replied, fearing that he had already said too much.

Though the situation had grown tense, each was showing a Christian spirit. Roy realized when he glanced at his watch that he would soon have to leave. He knew Yater was worried about him, for the editor looked as if he had been sitting through a funeral. He knew too that Yater was in no position to appreciate his ecumenical views. But he had the urge to plead with his old friend to reconsider the absolutism to which he had succumbed. How should he begin?

“Yater, this old world of ours is in trouble, isn’t it? To think of all the problems! Not only is most of the world neurotic, but we are in danger of blowing each other to pieces. Then there is alcoholism, starvation, illiteracy, juvenile delinquency, hate and distrust, disease and human misery, ignorance, broken homes and broken hearts — and yes, of course, broken churches. I suppose it all adds up to sin. My, my what a challenge for the kingdom of God on earth!

“Roy Coghill, what in the world is wrong with you” Yater said in bewilderment. “From the way you’ve been talking tonight I wonder if you know what the kingdom of God is. Do you really believe all that stuff you’ve been saying to Charlie?”

“Yater, what are we doing in a constructive way for the problems of the human family? What contribution are we making for a better world? Hasn’t our work been mostly negative? Aren’t we making much ado about matters of lesser importance?”

“Well, after tonight I’m not so sure about you, but I’m busy preaching the gospel,” insisted Yater. “I’m trying to do what little I can to avert a complete apostasy of the church of my Lord.”

“Are we Christ’s servants, Yater, or are we party men? Has our thinking become so little that we consider ‘the cooperative church’ the gravest issue facing Christendom in these times of crisis? Mankind is on the verge of being blown to pieces and we move in a world no larger than to fuss with Cy Woods about cooperation!”

“Roy, I don’t get you! What has come over you? What do you mean by asking if we’re party men? I’m no party man! And I’ll go along with your own writings and say that the issues we deal with in the Gunnery are vital and necessary. Any issue that threatens the Lord’s church is of utmost importance.”

“Well, Yater, I suppose I should speak only for myself. I have been guilty of partyism — a party man — and may God forgive me for it! It is not my friend Phil Moffat who is the sectarian. I have been the sectarian. Moffat has labored for the unity of the body of Christ, while I have contributed to its division. In the name of loyalty and soundness I have helped form another faction in the Church of Christ.”

“Are you telling me that you no longer believe the same way about institutionalism, the Herald of Truth, and all that digression? Are you going over to the institutional camp? Will you soon have your confession in Goodfield’s Advocate? I never thought I’d see the day when you . . .”

”Yater, I have not changed my position in the slightest about those things. I will continue to oppose them as I have opportunity. My point is that we can oppose innovations in such a way as to avoid all this carnality. Division is not necessary! By showing more love and forbearance we can avert the disaster of another Church of Christ party.”

“Roy, you know as well as I that they are the dividers; they are the ones who introduced these innovations-just like the organ crowd did the last time.”

“Notice, brother Yater, that we have ‘the institutional camp’ and ‘the digressives’ and ‘the organ crowd.’ Are you not speaking of your brethren in Christ? Even if they are as wrong as we think, is it necessary to employ terms that only aggravate the condition and actually drive the wedge deeper? Is it not true, Yater, that our attitude toward ‘them’ is such that we put the worst possible interpretation on what they say and do? It is the party man that looks for something wrong about the other side, which of course he always finds.” “Well . . . If I ever heard a liberal talk, you are one . . .”

”Yater, what has happened to the great Restoration Movement that it continues to divide and subdivide. Take a look at its history. Alexander Campbell had serious differences with his own father about Calvinism, but they continued to work and worship together. Even more serious was brother Stone’s Arianism, or something akin to it — some argued that he did not believe in the pre-existent Christ. Well, as you know, he and Campbell debated that issue at length in the papers, but they never thought of disfellowshiping each other. Differences were rife during the Civil War. It was so serious that nearly every denomination split right down the middle, and yet our brethren stayed together through it all”

Roy arose and moved toward his coat, and added: “But these days we divide, divide, divide — and you and I are as responsible for it as anybody else. I know, you say they are wrong, and there’s some truth to that — and we may be wrong about some things too — but we must learn that a man can be wrong about some things and still be a Christian. We all are. God loves me despite all my wrongs, and so I must accept my brother despite his wrongs.”

“That’s a nice speech, Roy, but what do you do when a church puts Herald of Truth in the budget or introduces an organ?”

“In the first place we do well to keep in mind that worse things can happen. Religious pride is perhaps more abominable to God than an organ in worship or Herald of Truth. And, Yater, our own carnal attitude in opposing such things may be more serious than the innovations themselves. But in any event the body of Christ should not be divided! We must learn to live with our differences. Romans 14 is part of the answer I would say. . .”

Charlie and Yater walked to the door with Roy. It was an awkward situation. Roy had that feeling of alienation already, as if he no longer belonged to the loyal party. He saw clearly that he was with men who have to think alike. Conformity, not unity, is the hallmark of the sectarian mind.

Charlie could not resist saying, “Roy, I thought Frank Back was a liberal. You’ve got it over him like a tent. You should go back and reread your exposure of his book. This all seems like a dream. Roy Coghill a modernist!!

Roy felt only pity for brother Charles. “Slavery it is,” he said to himself. “What was that that Jefferson said about systems that hold tyranny over the minds of men.”

“Good night, Charlie and Yater, and God bless you. May the Lord grant that by the time we meet again we will all have moved out into a larger world. We have many wonderful brethren that we have not yet discovered, not to mention the thousands that we have deliberately rejected. May all these become our brethren beloved rather than to be dubbed premillennialists, digressives, the institutional camp, and all the rest. May the Lord grant that we rise above partyism.”

“Oh, yes, Yater,” said Roy as he stepped out on the porch, “the World Council of Churches is soon to be meeting in New Delhi. Church leaders from all over the world will be working for the unity of all Christians. Their theme is ‘Jesus Christ the Light of the World.’ Don’t you think you and I should pray for them?”

Roy Coghill disappeared into the darkness, but never before was his soul flooded with such glorious light. He walked out a free man. He had freed himself from the chains of partyism.

Yater and Charlie did not look at each other. They gazed out into the darkness that now enveloped their fallen brother.

“It’s a tragedy, isn’t it?” said Charlie as Roy drove away into the night.

“Do you want to write him up or shall I do it?” said Yarer as he closed the door.

“We want to be sure to have a tape recorder on hand the next time we talk to him,” said Charlie.

It was snowing in Nashville. Bobby Andrews was out early with the Sunday edition of the Tennessean. He was struck with the beauty of the winter wonderland as he turned his bike down Caldwell Lane. The snow lay undisturbed. As if in obeisance to their Creator, the trees had yielded to the gentle touch of snow upon their boughs. “I guess the trees do a better job of obeying God than people do,” thought Bobby as he stopped his bike in front of the home of B. C. Goodfield.

The paper hit the porch of the Goodfield home heavily, arousing the aged Boxer who sent forth a lazy bark or two from within. Mrs. Goodfield was aroused only to find her husband sitting up in bed as if he’d been that way for hours.

“It was only the paper boy,” said Mr. Goodfield. “What are you doing awake like that?” asked his wife.

“I’ve just had the most fantastic dream about Roy Coghill and Yater Phant,” , he said.

“So, you’ve started dreaming about those fellows now, have you? Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?”

She turned to go back to sleep, but raised back up to ask, “Well, what happened?”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to say that Roy Coghill was converted,” said Mr. Goodfield with a smile.

“You don’t say,” replied his wife. “Then he’s on our side now, is he?”

Mr. Goodfield adjusted his electric blanket, and as he turned to go back to sleep, he said, “I don’t know that I’d put it that way.”