“FULL” AND “PARTIAL” FELLOWSHIP

A reader has passed along to me an editorial in the December 21, 1961 Gospel Advocate regarding Robert G. Neil and the Brentwood Hills congregation in Nashville. It seems that Brentwood Hills was not exactly orthodox for awhile, and it was therefore eyed suspiciously by the main-line Churches of Christ of the city. It was suspected of premillennialism, so the purpose of the editorial, which is signed by Batsell Barrett Baxter and B. C. Goodpasture, is to give the congregation a clear title to orthodoxy. Brother Neil answers orthodox questions about premillennialism with orthodox answers, and so Baxter and Goodpasture go on record in favor of extending “the right hand of fellowship” to both brother Neil and the congregation.

What interests me most of all about the editorial is the remark, “Since its inception a few years ago this church has been under a cloud of suspicion and has enjoyed only partial fellowship with the other congregations of the area.” What is “partial fellowship”? There is no such concept in the New Testament. One enjoys the fellowship of the saints or he doesn’t; Christians have fellowship one with another or they don’t. This partial fellowship notion reveals more than the editors might realize. It makes fellowship mean approval or endorsement, and it is saying that the congregation at Brentwood Hills was not fully accepted or approved or endorsed by the others. But this is not what fellowship in the New Testament means. If one is “in Christ” he is in fellowship with all others who are Christians. We have no half-brothers in the Lord, and none with whom we have only “partial” fellowship. It is a sectarian notion, one calculated to keep churches in line.

Congregations must line up and toe the line of orthodoxy if they want “full” fellowship. This latter term appears repeatedly in another Gospel Advocate article (Jan. 31, 1963) by J. D. Thomas. He makes such statements as, “This lets in denominational people to full Christian fellowship . . .” What is the difference between full fellowship and fellowship? Notice the reference to denominational people being “let in”. Both articles in the Advocate indicate that fellowship is some kind of device that men can wield to their own advantage: we “let in” people to full fellowship; a congregation that had only partial fellowship comes into Full fellowship once it gets its nose clean on premillennialism.

I want these brethren to write another editorial or two and explain to less discerning editors like myself what they mean by such distinctions. Who in the New Testament had only “partial fellowship” and which ones “full fellowship”? Who determines this anyhow? I thought a person came into the fellowship of the saints when he obeyed the gospel and became a Christian. Is fellowship something that fades and reappears according to one’s measure of orthodoxy? “Full fellowship” today but maybe only “partial fellowship” tomorrow, depending upon loyalty to party lines, is that it?

I wonder about another statement in the Baxter-Goodpasture editorial: “For some time the elders of the Brentwood Hills group have let it be known that they would welcome a meeting to clear up any difficulties and to achieve full fellowship with other congregations of the area.” There is “full fellowship” again, and with whom is to be enjoyed? The other Nashville congregations. Is this a New Testament concept? Is the koinonia into which the Christian is called of God (1 Cor. 1:9) a relationship between congregations? Do the New Testament scriptures speak of congregations “fellowshiping” or “dis-fellowshiping” each other, whether fully or partially? 1 John 1:3 indicates that fellowship is between persons and with God and with Christ. But one must close his New Testament and turn to editorials in the Advocate or to the history of Romanism to read about corporate bodies defining the lines and degrees of fellowship.

While I am at it I might ask what has happened to congregational autonomy? The same editorial tells how certain elders and ministers from various congregations in Nashville got together “to talk about matters of faith and fellowship” and thus decide what might be done to bring Brentwood Hills into “full fellowship.”

What does it mean to let a congregation direct its own affairs and settle its own problems? Two things frighten us: one is for someone to say a word against our cherished notion of autonomy; the other is for some congregation to dare to practice it. Congregational autonomy among Churches of Christ is an illusion. In a city like Nashville a congregation must get in line with all the others if it expects to get along. It is just that simple, and it is just that obviously sectarian. We need a truly free and courageous church in Nashville, one more concerned with pleasing the Lord than the Gospel Advocate.

SEVEN IMPERATIVES OF CHRISTIAN UNITY

The imperatives may number more than seven, but these seven are indeed imperatives. They apply especially to the disciple brotherhood, meaning the Christian Church-Churches of Christ with their several segments. These “musts” are related to the larger problem of the unity of all the saints in the whole of Christendom, but, like charity, unity begins at home, and we believe the place for us to start in the realization of the Lord’s prayer for oneness is with ourselves.

1. We must face the fact that we ourselves are sectarians.

Sectarian is not necessarily a bad word, even though we do not intend it as a compliment when we fling it at our religious neighbors. For too long now we have divided the religious world into two parts: the sects and ourselves, implying of course that we are not sectarian.

We can be sectarian without being factious, and so with our neighbors. One may belong to the Baptist Church and be as eager for the unity of the spirit as any of us. One is not a supporter of division and dissension just because he is a Methodist. Surely there are Presbyterians who pray daily for the unity of the saints, hoping that their own Presbyterian Church will be lost in the oneness of Christ.

This tragic state of division is our heritage. The misfortunes of history were dumped into our laps as if by fate. We did not ask to come into a world riddled with sectarianism. Some of course are satisfied with division, but many are not. Those who are concerned for unity are not sectarians in any bad sense, but only in the sense that they are within the context of partyism. Those who desire to maintain their parties, either because of pride or selfish gain, might well be called heretics. These are the self-condemned (Tit. 3:11) who bring upon themselves swift destruction (2 Pet. 2:1).

We of the disciple brotherhood are sectarians in that we too are within the pale of a distorted and apostate Christianity. This we must realize. Division must be viewed as a common problem shared by us all, and we should hope to work with all churches in overcoming it. It is arrogant for us to suppose that we are the answer to partyism. The truth is that our own disciple history has contributed to partyism just as Baptist or Methodist history has.

We can only hope that most of us are concerned over our plight, eager to see our “Church of Christ” and “Christian Church” distinctions lost in ecumenicity. Those of us who are satisfied with our present divided state — and we are divided a dozen or more different ways in our own brotherhood — are other than innocently-involved sectarians. Those who insist on the status quo, while branding all others as sects, are the heretics who promote and maintain parties for their own ends. “They profess to know God, but they deny him by their deeds; they are detestable, disobedient, unfit for any good deed.” (Titus 1:16).

The Church of Christ-Christian Church brotherhoods have all the elements of denominational structure: our own publishing houses, our own list of preachers (the various groups among us have their own “loyal” list), our own publications, our own colleges and seminaries, our own distinctive names, our own party interpretation of scripture, our own pet practices, our own powers of boycott, etc.

Whether these are right or wrong, we do have those things about us that distinguish us from others and that preserve us as a separate denomination or denominations.

The first imperative, therefore, is for us to drop this myth that we are different from other sects, and thus are not a sect, and are thereby a kind of panacea for the ills of sectarian division. No sensible man among us can believe that the answer to the problem of partyism in religion is for all denominations to close shop and join us. Which of our several groups would they join? If the answer is for them to fashion their churches after us, which one of our parties is to be the pattern for them?

Once we accept sectarianism for what it is, and realize that we are also part of the problem, we will then be in a position to work intelligently toward a solution.

2. We must realize that our plea for unity has thus far been little more than a demand for conformity.

Our people can hardly be thought of as unity-minded people, but rather as conformity-minded. We are not a part of any unity effort. Not only are we indifferent to the so-called Ecumenical Movement, which may be a reasonable attitude, but we have little concern for any unity effort, except for our own brand of “you be like us” unity. Ours is a call for conformity, not unity.

A plea for unity implies dialogue between the disparate groups. It calls for contact and conversation between those who are divided. It admits that the sin of division is widespread, that we are all more or less guilty, and that we must work together in love in order to overcome partyism. If we assume that we have it made, that we are the restored church, that we are right and there are no further truths about the one church to look for, then of course our plea to the various sects is for them to become like ourselves.

It could hardly be so simple as that. Who among us can believe that it would be the truth if someone told the denominational leaders who have labored for decades to promote Christian unity the following: there is a church in the United States, especially in Texas and Tennessee, that is the real New Testament church; it has restored the original church in faith, doctrine, and practice; our search for a way to unite is over; we have found the way; the answer is for all of us to become like the people known as the Church of Christ or the Christian Church?

We leave the impression that this is our view. This attitude must be corrected if we are to make any substantial progress toward reform. Those characteristics that distinguish us from others cannot be insisted upon as the basis for unity. Others do not have to adopt our pet name “Church of Christ” or follow our form of worship (our famous five acts of public Worship) in order to share in a world-wide fellowship of the saints. There is no evidence that a New Testament church wore such a name as “Church of Christ” or practiced such things as congregational singing and passing a collection basket every Sunday.

In the restored church these things that we do that make us different from others may or may not be continued-we may have to give up some things just as others will have to discard some things for the sake of unity-but in no instance can our peculiarities be insisted upon as a basis for fellowship. Let me say that again:there is nothing that is believed or practiced only by Church of Christ-Christian Church people that can be made a condition for the unity of all believers.

Surely we have truths that will contribute to the achievement of oneness, but other religious groups have also. If we are conscious of unity, we will share ideas with others and learn from others; if we are merely pleading for conformity, our task will simply be to make it clear to others just what we are so that they may become like us.

3. We must understand that the so-called Restoration Movement is NOT the church, but rather a movement within the church.

It is a fallacy to suppose that the Campbells or anybody else restored the church to its pristine glory, so that all we have to do is to bask in the sunlight of truth and invite others to accept the same. The first error in our thinking along this line is to equate a movement with the church. Our pioneers did not ‘confuse this point. They fully understood that the church was already in existence in their day, and that their task was not to restore the church. Their effort was a movement within the church, the purpose of which was to restore to the church certain features that they believed to be essential to its maturity.

There is a significant difference here. It is one thing to believe that we are the church (because our people have restored it) and all others are outside the true church; it is another thing to believe we are a part of the church, but so are other true believers, for the church is scattered throughout all Christendom. If we believe the latter, we will see the Restoration Movement as an effort within the church, which is scattered and fragmented, to restore to the church some of the original characteristics that have been lost or blurred.

The church can be fragmented and still be the church; it can become decadent and even apostate and still be the church. The church is the body of Christ, the people of God.

We should view our Restoration Movement as an effort to correct the deficiencies. Among the essentials which we seek to restore to the church would be unity itself. The restoration of the institutions of baptism and the Lord’s Supper to their proper place would be another. The reformation of the disciples’ way of life to lives of holiness would be another.

4. We must realize that the church of our Lord is not composed of congregations, but of individuals.

The body of Christ is not made up of so many “loyal” churches. It is not the sum total of the congregations of any particular persuasion. The church at Sardis is called a “dead” church by the Lord himself, even though it had a reputation of being alive. But Jesus says to that congregation:: ‘Yet you have still a few names in Sardis, people who have not soiled their garments; and they shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy.” Surely this is the case in most congregations; i.e., there are true disciples of the Lord there. These constitute the body of Christ. The aggregate of them the world over constitute the church of God on earth.

We should not, therefore, classify men by their church connections, for their personal lives may bespeak an attitude toward truth much different from the traditions of their denomination. A man should not be categorized as “Baptist” just because he belongs to the Baptist Church. Even if he acknowledges being a Baptist, he may be a different kind of Baptist from the one we have in mind. Each man should be allowed to stand on his own convictions. Surely the Lord will judge us this way. We are not to suppose that the Christ will judge us as members of the First Baptist Church or as members of the Tenth Street Church of Christ.

It may be that God is displeased with both the First Baptist Church and the Tenth Street Church of Christ, as he was with the congregation at Sardis, and yet be pleased with certain ones within those churches, as he was with some at Sardis. We will go to heaven or hell, not as members of certain churches, but as individuals who must give an account to God for their own behavior.

5. We must accept as brothers in the Lord all those who acknowledge and submit to the Lordship of our Saviour Jesus Christ.

It is a serious thing for any of us to refuse to accept into the fellowship of the saints him whom the Lord has received. The New English Bible gives a helpful rendering of Rom. 14:1: “If a man is weak in his faith you must accept him without attempting to settle doubtful points.” If we truly love the Lord, will we not accept those whom the Lord accepts? This verse teaches that I am to accept my brother in the Lord even if there are doubtful points of doctrine in his belief.

When I read Rom. 14:1 I am reminded of the use Alexander Campbell made of the passage before an audience of brethren who were trying to decide whether they should receive Aylett Raines into their fellowship. He had been immersed by Walter Scott, but he held views that were then called “Restorationist,” which were that the wicked would be restored to peace by God after a period of punishment. This view was held by numerous ones in those days, and the disciples viewed it as an injurious heresy. Many were adamant in their view that Raines should not be received, and especially that he should not be used by the churches, even though he proved to be a highly talented man.

We cannot tell the whole story here, but it was at an annual meeting of the Mahoning Association that Thomas Campbell said the following about the controversial Aylett Raines:

Brother Raines has been with me during the last several months, and we have freely unbosomed ourselves to each other. He is philosophically a Restorationist and I am a Calvinist, but not-withstanding this difference of opinion between us, I would put my right hand into the fire and have it burnt off before I would hold up my hands against him.

And from all I know of Brother Raines, if I were Paul, I would have him, in preference to any young man of my acquaintance, to be my Timothy. (Memoirs, 2, p. 245)

Imagine a brother today in our straight-laced brotherhood feeling free enough to admit that he is a Calvinist as Thomas Campbell did, and then to speak up in favor of one accused of heresy! It was in this free setting that the Restoration Movement enjoyed its early growth.

At that same meeting Alexander Campbell referred to Rom. 14:1 as the reason why brother Raines should be received. To complete the story we should add that Raines made an outstanding contribution to the movement, and he testified later in life that it was the charitable spirit of the Campbells that saved him from the error that was then held in question, for he finally gave up the error.

The exacting and legalistic brethren who insist that others must agree with their interpretations before fellowship is extended should heed the example of the Campbells. Thomas Campbell said he would rather have his hand burned off than to reject a brother. Too many of us today have a much different spirit. If a man is my brother — and he is my brother if he is a baptized believer — then I should receive him as the Lord has received him.

The reason the Campbell movement did not splinter off into several factions during the nineteenth century is because of their liberal view of fellowship. It is the austerity and lack of love towards one another that continues to divide us in every generation since the Campbells.

6. We must distinguish between the fellowship of saints, which is based upon the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the endorsement (or approval) of a brother’s opinions and interpretations, which are based upon doctrine.

We must not forget that fellowship is between persons, not things. It is persons that are “in Christ” and that is where fellowship is (1 John 1:3; 1 Cor. 1:9). Things like organs, radio programs, colleges, missionary societies are irrelevant to the question of fellowship. All those “in Christ” are in fellowship with each other and with Christ. As each one draws closer to Christ he is drawn closer to the others who draw nigh unto him.

Endorsement of a brother’s doctrinal position is a different thing. We have already seen from Rom. 14:1 that we may receive each other “without attempting to settle doubtful points.” There will be those who do not endorse or approve of missionary societies, but they can still have fellowship — not with the missionary society, for fellowship is not with things — with the missionary that the society sends forth, or with those who use such societies to do the Lord’s work.

It is God who calls us into the fellowship of his Son (1 Cor. 1:9). It is not our prerogative, therefore, to determine the bounds of fellowship between brethren. God takes care of that. I merely acknowledge the fellowship that exists in Christ, and I am to accept (with great thanksgiving) the saintly fellowship that is provided in Christ. It is sinful for me to do otherwise. While I may not endorse a brother’s position, and may not even endorse the brother as a sound teacher, I can still accept the brother, as the Campbells accepted Raines, and bear with him and help him. This is the meaning of Christian fellowship. No fellowship can exist when brethren are heresy-hunters, suspicious of each other, and ready to cut each other down at the first infraction of some rule.

It is true that there are situations in which fellowship is not possible. One situation was at Corinth in the case of a brother who had his father’s wife; another was the case of the heretic in Titus 3:10. But check this proposition: fellowship between saints need never be impaired so long as there is a sincere effort to do what is right. This holds true irrespective of how wrong one might get in his doctrinal views. I am to save him from his erroneous views by accepting him. If Christ died for him, I can receive him, without endorsing his views. This is love.

7. We must make nothing a test of fellowship that God has not made a condition for going to heaven.

We encourage division when we refuse to accept a brother simply upon the basis of his relationship to Christ. Too often we issue our own conditions, claiming of course that our stipulations are simon-pure biblical interpretations. All of us of course are loyal, and we have our standards of loyalty by which we measure those who would be one of us.

Just think of the many things that are made tests of fellowship within “Church of Christ” ranks! These are arbitrary manmade, stereotyped devices that alienate brethren. While these “dis-fellowshiping” practices are often propagated and preserved by well-meaning brethren who are desperate to be loyal, they are nonetheless vicious and destructive to Christian fellowship. Brethren simply have no right to draw lines that exclude those whom Christ receives. It is a serious matter when one brother will not receive another brother.

The turns that such practices take are sometimes ludicrous as well as pathetic. I have on several occasions enjoyed meaningful fellowship with various brethren of different segments of discipledom in private gatherings, but these same men are not free to express that same sense of oneness in any public way. In the privacy of our homes we can pray together, dine together, and open our hearts to each other as we discuss mutual problems, but at the public assembly they must resort to the usual practice of “drawing the line” on all who are not loyal.

I say it is sometimes amusing as well as sad to witness such frustrations, for it is all so obviously contradictory. I have spent hours with men in my home where the finest spirit of fellowship prevailed, only to accompany them to one of their meetings where they are compelled to treat me like an outsider. It is not an infrequent experience for some brother to call on one of the regular praying members twice in the same service, due to a shortage of those who can pray publicly, rather than to call on me — even after joyous fellowship together just prior to the service! It appears that they sometime find a convenient out by having some other brother call on somebody to lead the prayer, knowing of course that he will not and cannot call on me, or any one else that is not loyal to that particular faction of discipledom.

Yet I understand quite well, and my friends in the various segments know that I understand. Sometimes they express regrets that it cannot be otherwise. Our movement is so fragmented and lines are so sharply drawn that brethren are not free to have fellowship with all Christians. We have fellowship only with those who agree with us on those things that distinguish us as a separate group, whether it be anti-this or pro-that. For some reason public prayer, or I suppose any kind of public expression, is a symbol of this acceptance or rejection. The various “Church of Christ” sects just do not call on any man who is outside the prescribed lines. Since I have declared my independence of all partyism among us, it is rare for me to be called on for anything when I visit the assemblies of the various factions as I often do, the so-called “premillennial wing” being a notable exception. Those brethren simply are not as sectarian as most of the rest of us.

Yet I find it increasingly the case that leaders of the several groups will talk with me and share with me their inner struggles since they can no longer talk with each other. In many communities today our own people are so badly divided that they no longer speak to each other. They are busy stealing sheep from each other, and their chief concern seems to be the digressions of each other. In my own hometown of Denton, Texas this is the case. I can enjoy some measure of fellowship with all of them, while they themselves are in a fratricidal struggle. My rule is a simple one: to make nothing a test of fellowship that God has not made a condition for going to heaven. I can love them all, and yet, if need be, disagree with them all. They are my brethren because they are first of all Christ’s. We are his together, despite all our frailties and faulty thinking. We are all sinners together. For this reason I accept every man who loves Jesus Christ as my brother. If there are any lines drawn, I want to be sure that I draw none of them.

“How blest are the peacemakers; God shall call them his sons.”

DILLY-DALLYING IN THE PERIPHERY

I could talk about philosophy in this editorial, showing how it might be defined as a concern for “the things that matter most.” But some of my brethren are afraid of philosophy and philosophers, and occasionally I am asked how I can claim to be both a professor of philosophy and a professor of Christianity. I sometimes point out to them that philosophers were among the first to learn that the Christ had been born, and they showed such concern for this event that they traveled across a large part of the then known world to honor the new born king, and proceeded to protect the child when his life was endangered.

These magi or wise men were a philosophical school of the Orient who gained wisdom by studying the heavens, a practice that goes all the way back to Plato, who made astronomy and mathematics required studies for the young philosophers of his Academy. So these philosophers found out that the Christ had been born by watching the heavens — “We have seen his star in the East, and have come to worship him.” If philosophy was able to find the Christ in the stars, while many people cannot find him even with their New Testament open before them, then perhaps we should be willing to let philosophy lead us to new heights in Christian study.

I am about to say that Christian philosophy might at least lead us in from the periphery. But I am not really going to talk about philosophy. I simply want to quote something from Plato: “Nothing could be more contrary than pettiness to a mind constantly bent on grasping the whole of things, both divine and human.” The old wise man was giving qualifications for the philosophic mind: pettiness and concern for the great ideas simply do not go together, he is saying. Little minds are content with the periphery; they are willing to make much ado about nothing. It is the mind that is “constantly bent on grasping the whole of things” that grows discontent with dilly-dallying in the periphery.

During a time that Albert Schweitzer describes as the most dangerous period in human history, the one and only true church (so we are expected to believe) is giving a handsome portion of its time and attention to such issues as institutionalism and instrumental music. One only needs to thumb through our “Church of Christ” journals to see that our editors busy themselves with such questions as the scripturalness of orphan homes and radio and TV programs. In a day when the nations of earth are on the brink of disaster and are thus in need of some Isaiahs and Jeremiahs to weep for them and urge them towards God, many of our brethren sincerely believe that the crucial issue facing the people of God is “the sponsoring church.”

We are like the pussy cat who went to London to visit the queen, but who ended up chasing a mouse from under a chair. If we are indeed God’s people, if we are truly his kingdom on earth — yea, if we are his only true church (and do not these fantastic claims concern you?) — then should we not be the most dynamic force for good in this troubled world? Should we not be involved in the world’s present trauma as Micah and Amos were in their day? Should we not be a great reservoir of spiritual strength for the leaders of nations? And should we not even produce from our ranks some Christian statesmen to guide the governments of earth?

Where are the poets, philosophers, artists, men of letters, great teachers and preachers that we have produced? Surely the only people God has on earth could do better than we have done along this line! Not only have we not produced, dilly-dallying around as we do, we have even obstructed the way of those who dare to do something. Let a brother get a real education and we begin to eye him with suspicion; let him associate with other Christians (oh, excuse the slip — if he associates with the sectarians) and we brand him; let him get off the beaten path and we call him names. A man becomes a heretic, you know, when he begins to teach other than the way we believe!

But that is not all. The brotherhood journals will openly oppose any efforts to get our divided groups together for unity talks. It is apparently disloyal to be a part of any unity movement.

While the world is in peril we dilly-dally. Though we sit in the house of royalty, we chase mice. And all the while we call each other bad names and dis-fellowship each other. The rancor among us so disturbed a brother in Abilene that he penned an article for Firm Foundation on “This Dis-fellowshipping Mania.” Among other things he said, “Perhaps the grimmest part of the tragedy is the quiet, steady exodus of disillusioned young people who leave the church. Many of my acquaintances have left.” He goes on to describe those who left as “the intellectual and spiritual cream of their congregations’ youth who cared too much instead of caring too little.”

This judgment is consistent with the observation of Professor Robert Meyers who wrote in Restoration Review that the “rebels” at the Church of Christ colleges who leave the church in rather substantial numbers are “among the brightest and most promising.” Why are we losing many of our brightest young men? Bright young men and women like to think, and they do think. The “Church of Christ” does not permit free thinking. The worst thing that can happen to our young people is for them to get a real liberal arts education. These young intellectuals of ours are leaving because they must choose between dilly-dallying in the periphery and being heretics (or modernists, or compromiser, or unsound, or something) among their own brethren.

I could not help but think of these conditions among us while reading recently a book about the Scottish theologian James Denney, entitled God Loves Like That! The title is taken from Denney’s habit of pointing his audience to the cross and saying “God loves like that!” Though he was one of the great conservative theologians of Europe and so very scholarly (he mastered seven languages and knew all of Shakespeare’s tragedies by heart!), he is described as “the most unworldly, unselfish, retiring of men, and was in a manner forced to the front.” He so greatly loved Christ. The cross was the center of all his thinking. It is said of him, “He lived in and loved the world and personalities disclosed in the New Testament.”

He could quote the New Testament in Greek as well as he could in English, and even though he knew “all there was to know about modern Biblical criticism,” he still had strong faith in the supernatural aspects of revelation. He believed in the grace of God, which made him the pious man that he was. He was fond of saying, “The New Testament is the most free-thinking book in the world,” and he talked about what daring free-thinkers Paul and John were. He said no apostle ever remembered Christ, for to them the Christ was ever present. It is not what Christ did that should so concern us, but what he does, not what he was, but what he is.

Denney read Scripture as if listening for a Voice. Christ stands alone in all history and at the center of history. To be a Christian is to take Christ at his own estimate. The church’s chief end is to win men through the testimony of God’s redeeming love in Christ. He also spoke often of the Holy Spirit: “It is by the gift of the Holy Spirit that the exalted Lord carries on His work on earth; He is with us through the Spirit, and in the work of the Spirit the ends are being secured for which Jesus lived and died.”

Denney was a theologian at the University of Glasgow, but he was a university man who insisted on taking the great theological truths to the common people (“preaching and theology should never be divorced”). He was a great preacher before an audience because he could move men to see what Christ does for them. “The simplest truth of the Gospel and the profoundest truth of theology must be put in the same words: He bore our sins!”

He preached the love of God! He was intense and passionate in his concern for Christ. A Cambridge professor said of Denney: “He was one of the very few men I have ever seen at white heat over what Christ has done for the world.”

Let me insist that it is this kind of emphasis that our people need today. We have a moral obligation to be intelligent, and more than that we need the kind of love that Denney must have had. If more of our people should see that we are under grace and not law, and that it is the love and mercy of God that saves us and not our works! It is the Christ who is our savior and it is he who is to be glorified in our lives and not what we call the “Church of Christ.” Let us be in white heat in our love for God’s unspeakable gift. Let more of our men stand before our assemblies and passionately and intensely point to the cross as the answer for a troubled world. Let them point to the cross and cry out, “God loves like that!”

BILLIE SOL AGAIN

Since my editorial on “The Church of Billie Sol Estes” the brother from Pecos has been convicted of swindling and has been given a prison term. He has appealed to a higher court.

In the meantime Billie Sol is busy evangelizing as a “lay preacher” for the Church of Christ, so say the news media. My hometown paper, the Denton Record-Chronicle, recently pictured Estes on its front page, showing him in a Church of Christ pulpit with a table in the foreground having words inscribed that read In Remembrance of Me. Under the picture it said: “Billie Sol Estes, Pecos rancher who touched off a nationwide scandal and was convicted in a fertilizer storage swindle, told a church fund-raising program in Indianapolis Wednesday night that repentance is essential to religious salvation. Estes will continue his appearances on behalf of Church of Christ mission work today in Cleveland.”

The news magazines, Newsweek at least, have carried similar pictures and stories of Estes’ work among the Church of Christ as a lay minister. Insofar as I have been able to tell the brotherhood journals remain conspicuously silent about the whole Estes affair. The Firm Foundation recently editorialized on “Our Moral Decline,” but there was no reference to any particular guilt on the part of Church of Christ folk and certainly no reference to Billie Sol, which of course is all right. Not even did C. E. McGaughey allude in any way to the Estes problem in his Firm Foundation report regarding his evangelistic work for the church in Pecos.

We have since had a newcomer to the Estes story — John Paul Dunn, the Pecos physician who claims to be the one who first told on Estes. He has gone to court in an effort to remain on the staff at the local hospital, which is out to dismiss him, apparently because of his involvement in the Estes affair. Dunn too is a member of the Pecos Church of Christ, and the newspapers keep us informed on how the two men are able to worship together (and even sit together) at the local Church of Christ.

All this puts me to thinking. If Estes and Dunn can sit together and worship together, and if they can still get along in the Church of Christ without getting dis-fellowshipped, why does that same church get in such a stew over somebody that believes in premillennialism or happens to sing hymns to an organ or piano.

And if Estes can continue as a “lay minister” in good standing in the Church of Christ, and even stand behind “the communion table” and raise money for our missionaries — all this while under conviction for swindling and with a prison term hanging over his head-then what is there that is so bad about men like R. H. Boll or Carl Ketcherside, or even Yater Tant.

“I now write that you must have nothing to do with any so-called Christian who leads a loose life, or is grasping, or idolatrous, a slanderer, a drunkard, or a swindler. You should not even eat with any such person.” (1 Cor. 5:11 N.E.B.) The swindler is not to be within the fellowship of the church, Paul says. Yet the Church of Christ publicly uses a nationally-known swindler! That same church will not use publicly any good, pious brother who is in doctrinal disagreement. A condemned swindler can preach for them, but some respectable brother who happens to use instrumental music at his own congregation cannot preach for them But, after all, 1 Cor. 5:11 is not particularly a “Church of Christ” passage, and besides Estes is otherwise a good Church of Christer.

Had Estes happened to have been an anti of some kind, there would have been good reasons for rejecting him, including swindling. But when a swindler is on your side and swindles for the good of the cause, the case is different.

It just may be that if Estes has to go to prison, the Church of Christ might be able to arrange with the Texas Prison System for Estes to be given temporary leaves of absence in order to raise money for the one and only New Testament church on earth, the church that is to be pure and holy and without blemish, without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing.

Perhaps we are asked to believe that brother Estes has repented. I hope so, and that would be very fine indeed. The same book that calls for repentance calls for the proper fruits of repentance. Only an immature and morally insensitive people could use a notorious swindler, yea even one under conviction and awaiting the call to prison as well as further trials for perjury and fraud, in the Christian pulpit where only holy men of God should stand. If Estes has repented, well and good. But let him sit back and drink from the bitter dregs of remorse for what he has done to both his God and his nation. What effrontery it takes, what arrogance it displays, what insensitivity to morality and piety it demonstrates to put such a man before a Christian congregation. If Estes has indeed repented, it is now high time that the church of Billie Sol repents.

The prophets of old spoke out when things stank. We need them with us today to tell us that this whole thing stinks. I am disgusted with a brotherhood that can fellowship a swindler and at the same time reject godly men who happen to hold different opinions. The church that can fellowship a Billie Sol Estes can crucify an R. H. Boll. This whole thing stinks to high heaven.

OUR EAGER DEUTSCHER

September 9, 1962, was a lovely day at crowded Idlewild International Airport in New York. The Everett Gibbs family had driven me to New York from Bridgeport, Conn., where I had been engaged in Christian work. It was my first visit to this famous airport. The jungle of people, network of buildings, congestion of cars, planes roaring in and out in all directions seemed to confuse me. I had instructions to meet an agent of the International Social Service at the top of the main escalator in the New Arrivals Building. Since it was Sunday this early afternoon date had been a race with the clock all the way from church in Bridgeport. I was to be there an hour early — quite a chore for me. The New Arrivals Building itself was not easy to find; then a particular escalator; then a particular young woman. I was sure I would never find her among so many people. It was the proverbial needle in the haystack all over again. But she was to have an ISS band on her arm, and she’d be watching for me at the precise moment, so maybe I could find her.

All this fuss was over a five-year-old boy. He was to arrive — after three years of waiting — from Germany. The instructions stated he would arrive on Air India, flight 115, at 2:45 p.m. The ISS agent was to give me further instructions and then take me to the plane to meet my new son. Since the little boy was stepping out into a world so different from his life in a Roman Catholic orphanage, the ISS insisted that I be on hand for further briefings.

I found the right escalator, I thought, but there was no woman with an ISS band on her arm. I waited and waited, then I rechecked to make sure I had the right escalator and the right building, then I began to ask attendants if they had seen a stray ISS representative, a familiar figure in the New Arrivals terminal. Already I was uneasy, but I became frantic when I heard the announcement that Air India, flight 115, was arriving at a certain gate. It turned out that the instructions sent to me from the International Social Service had given the time of arrival an hour later than it really was, so I was late after all!

I scampered downstairs to the customs area and through a door marked “Positively No Admittance.” I explained to the customs officer at the desk that I was about to have a new son, and that I feared the little fellow might have to arrive in his new world without anybody around that cared. Little boys from Germany or not, I could not go back into the area where immigrants were checking in. But I would not take no for an answer. Finally he agreed that an officer might accompany me, and the two of us could search for the little Deutscher.

People were coming through the customs counters in droves. Bags and parcels were checked for content. But there were no little boys from Germany that I could tell. Perhaps if I could get to the plane itself, I thought . . . but it was already unloaded, and besides no one was allowed, not even me. The officer had me wait while he checked at a room where immigrant children are sometimes kept. I waited only a few minutes, but it seemed like hours. Too, I felt a little like being in a fish bowl, for the whole area was circled overhead by a large gallery of viewers. There was a lot of drama in the customs area.

The officer returned with a woman with an ISS band on her arm — and a little boy at her side.

There he stood with his red beret, tweed suit, high-top shoes, trench coat and a small canvas bag of clothes — all of which looked sufficiently German. He was smaller than I thought he would be. He was of course a blond, with fair complexion and distinct features. His eyes were a lovely blue, but they looked sad. He appeared to be at ease; he seemed to know what was going on. I was sure the nuns had properly briefed him on what to expect. Yet he said nothing. He had stepped out into a big world and he was taking it in. He was busy looking at everything around him, giving as little attention as possible to those around him. He did not smile, neither did he speak; he just looked at everything he could.

He had such few belongings with him that the customs officer figured he must have another bag. “Ist das alles?” he asked him. The boy nodded that it was, still preserving his silence. The ISS agent handed me his passport and other papers and the officer gave him a customs clearance (without checking his little bag) right there on the spot so that he would not have to go through the long line. They turned the boy over to me and hurried away to attend to other matters in their busy world.

Two people who were so unlikely to have ever crossed each other’s path had indeed met in a busy airport in the world’s largest city. It was dramatic since they were meeting as father and son. While we were incapable of understanding each other’s language (except a very little German on my part), I sensed that he was fully aware that he had at last met his new father — indeed, the only father he ever had. I managed to say a few greetings in his native tongue, including assurances that I loved him and that I was his papa. He still said nothing, but this time there was a slight smile. I knew he understood and I believed then that he would make his change without difficulty. Ouida and I had been concerned about the adjustment problems, especially since we had been so long getting him.

Everett Gibbs had come along with me in order to serve as interpreter. His long years in Germany gave him an acquaintance with both the language and the people. We all had lots of fun together, the Gibbs’ and the Garretts, while we awaited our flight to Dallas. Everett talked and talked to the newcomer, but still he opened not his mouth (let me assure you that time has changed that!), but his slight smiles became big ones, and those in turn to lusty laughter. I was not sure whether he was laughing at Everett’s syntax or his antics, but it was obvious enough that the little orphan was both understanding and enjoying his new friend.

At the Dallas airport he accepted an embrace from his new mother with less enthusiasm than he showed for airplanes, lights, building, and things. He was forced by his instinct for self-preservation to pay attention to the attack from his new brother and sister. He viewed their presents and presence with Stoic tranquility. He still said nothing all the way to his home in Denton. But he did fall off to sleep, for after all, in changing worlds he had missed a night’s sleep. Again I sensed drama as I eyed the scene in the back seat of the car: two little orphans eyeing a third one with creative wonder. There are three children, I thought, from different parts of the world, who were not likely ever to meet each other, but here they are becoming brothers and sister. I wondered what would happen, trusting that it was better this way for the three of them than the way it was before. Life takes interesting turns, doesn’t it?

Herbert Eickstaedt has had his sixth birthday since becoming a Texas cowboy. He is understanding more and more English, but he still does most of his communicating in German. This has had its amusing moments. A neighbor boy, who had no concept of a foreigner, proceeded to play with little Herb just as he did the others. Herb began to bombard him with German — good strong doses of it. The neighbor boy was bewildered. He ran to me and complained, “I can’t understand him!”

Christmas is different with a bit of Germany in the house. Herb has all of us singing Tannen Baum. He has his own room, his own tricycle, and he attends nursery at Texas Woman’s University, where he has become the inspiration for special projects in German customs. We are trying to preserve his native culture by reading him stories in German.

He is a quiet, gentle lad, and well-disciplined. While in New York I had to leave him a moment to make a call. I placed him in the chair where I wanted him to stay, and said, “Bleips du hier, Herbert.” I walked a way and paused a moment behind a column to see what he would do. While his eyes went to and fro about his new world, he hardly moved an inch from the position in which I placed him. This kind of German military discipline continued all that evening. I thought to myself how I hated to take him home and ruin him! But he continues to be well-mannered and obedient. His sad, blue eyes attract the girls. An airline hostess was puzzled that they’d ever let such a darling boy leave Germany. Girls at college and at church smother him. We have a little trouble with people heaping too much attention upon our German son and not enough on our Indian and our Greta Garbo.

His most winning trait, however, is his zest for life. Hence my reference to our eager Deutscher. I have never seen such aliveness. Life is one great thrill to him — everything, even taking a bath! And food . . . one simply would not believe that a skinny little boy could eat so much, and with such delight. When mama (he says it in German) prepares pancakes he literally dances with joy. When he plays, he plays with enthusiasm. In church he sits like a trained dog, which embarrasses me — if you know what I mean! How he loves to go, to do anything, and he even sleeps quite like no one else. He demonstrates to me that some people are simply more alive than others.

I found a note among his things from a nun at St. Antoniusheim (St. Anthony’s Orphanage) in Karlsruhe, kindly requesting information as to how Herbert is adjusting to his new home in America. I wrote her that he was a wonderful little boy and that we were pleased with him, but that he was a bit sneaky. He steals out of bed at night and roams the house; he wanders into neighbor’s houses; and he is not always truthful. But such is the way with little boys and big ones too. All in all he is a delightful lad, and I commended the sisters for the good job they had done. I explained that he had already climbed right into our hearts and that he is now one of us.

Speaking of the good job the sisters did, you might imagine how impressed I was when Herbert’s school teacher, who entertained him one evening at her home, told me the following incident. She drove Herbert around Denton to show him the Christmas lights, and she took him to the Presbyterian Church to show him a live scene of the Christmas story. Inside the church a temporary altar had been set up for a wedding, and it was still there off to one side when Herbert was taken into the building. The teacher explained that the little boy left her and made a beeline for that altar. There he knelt quietly for awhile, apparently saying his prayers. It surprised the teacher. It sobered me.

Only yesterday I had this little boy who will soon become Philip Herbert Garrett in my lap, explaining to him that someday he might return to his native Deutschland and be another Martin Luther or somebody. He wasn’t sure what all that meant, but as usual he was delighted. Bless their hearts, that would really be a good one on the nuns, wouldn’t it?