WHO IS MY BROTHER?

In dealing with the question “Who is my neighbor?”, Jesus taught in the parable of the Good Samaritan that it is a matter of relationship. Your neighbor is one to whom you can show mercy. Neighborhood is a relationship between neighbors. The question “Who is my brother?” is to be answered much the same way, for it too is a relationship between people. As neighborhood is a relationship between neighbors, so brotherhood is a relationship between brothers.

My Christian brother is one who sustains the same relationship to the Christ that I do. He is in Christ just as I am, and this makes us “a new creation” together in Christ (2 Cor. 5:17). We have put on Christ together in that we have both been baptized into Him (Gal. 3:27). This means that one is my brother, not on the basis of what he has done for me or what I have done for him, but on the basis of what Christ has done for the both of us.

Brothers are in the same family together; they have the same father. They are heirs together, enjoying the same promises, privileges and blessings. Brothers are still brothers even when they fight like enemies. And a man might has some brothers that he does not know about, but they are just as much his brothers as those with whom he associates daily.

Brotherhood in Christ is possible only by the grace of God. Because of his great love for us, the Heavenly Father gave the Christ to save us from our sins. “While we were yet helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly . . . God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:6-8). It is because of mercy that men can be brothers. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy we have been born anew to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” (I Per. 1:3)

Brotherhood is not the result of our own works or goodness. “He saved us, not because of deeds done by us in righteousness but in virtue of his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal in the Holy Spirit.” (Tit. 3:5) We may say, therefore, that it is the Spirit that makes men brothers, and that those who are brothers are men of the Spirit together. “God’s has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us.” (Rom. 5:5) “Because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’” (Gal. 4:6)

Every child of God is my brother. A man need not be right on this doctrine or that practice in order to be my brother. Since the Heavenly Father adopted me as his son despite my many errors, and preserves me as his child even though I no doubt continue to be wrong about many things, then surely I can accept a man as my brother if he be the child of the same Father, irrespective of how right or wrong he may be on doctrinal issues. It is not how much he knows that makes him a brother, but it is what he believes about Christ.

Brotherhood is not based on any such thing as congregational or denominational affiliation. To be my brother in the Lord one need not belong to this or that church. Surely we all have Christian brothers who are Presbyterians, Baptists, and Episcopalians, but we share sonship with them, not because they are Presbyterians, Baptists, and Episcopalians, but because they are Christians — new creatures in Christ Jesus. (2 Cor. 5:17)

Perhaps I should say just here that it is a Christian who is my brother, which of course brings us to the question as to just what makes one a Christian. I appreciate Alexander Campbell’s favorite definition that, “a Christian is one that habitually believes all that Christ says, and habitually does all that he bids him.” He is more precise when he adds, “a Christian means one who first believes that Jesus is the Christ, repents of his sins, is then immersed on confession into Christ’s death, and thenceforth continues in the Christian faith and practice.”

We could not ask for a more unequivocal statement. I stand with Campbell just as he stood with Christ and the apostles. “He that believes and is baptized shall be saved.” (Mk. 16:16) “Repent and be baptized everyone of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins. (Acts 2:38)

It was in the same context, however, that Campbell realized that we are faced with a problem that did not exist in the early church — how about those that mistake the act of immersion and are only sprinkled? or how about the pious unimmersed? Are they too Christians?

In this regard Campbell wrote: “But who is a Christian? I answer, Everyone that believes in his heart that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, the Son of God; repents of his sins, and obeys him in all things according to the measure of knowledge of his will.” He was explicit in stating that, “There is no occasion, then, for making immersion, on a profession of the faith, absolutely essential to a Christian-though it may be greatly essential to his sanctification and comfort.”

He adds persuasively: “I do not substitute obedience to one commandment, for universal or even for general obedience. And should I see a sectarian Baptist or a Pedobaptist more spiritually-minded, more generally conformed to the requisitions of the Messiah, then one who precisely acquiesces with me in the theory or practice of immersion as I teach, doubtless the former rather than the latter, would have my cordial approbation and love as a Christian.”

He goes on to say, “It is the image of Christ the Christian looks for and loves, and this does not consist in being exact in a few items, but in general devotion to the whole truth as far as known.”

Again he says, “While I would unhesitatingly say, that I think that every man who despises any ordinance of Christ, or who is willingly ignorant of it, cannot be a Christian; still I should sin against my own convictions, should I teach anyone to think that if he mistook the meaning of any institution, while in his soul he desired to know the whole will of God, he must perish forever.”

Some of us will be uncomfortable with the view that one can be a Christian without immersion, for after all immersion is an heavenly institution, and it is the God-ordained act whereby the believer is initiated into the kingdom of God. And yet some of us are uncomfortable with the view that a pious believer in Christ is not a Christian, even if he has an obedient heart, only because of an insufficient amount of H20.

When I was a student at Freed-Hardeman College in Tennessee, one of my classmates obeyed the gospel, but it was observed by some of the students that in her baptism she was not completely submerged, for the elbow and part of the arm remained out of the water. The students advised the professor what had happened, but he shrugged it off as a technicality. It caused quite a furor. On the blackboards between classes students would write, adapting Rom. 6:4 to fit the occasion: “We were partly buried with him by baptism into death.” After a day or two of this the girl was reimmersed — all of her this time!

Did she become our sister only when she was completely submerged? Suppose no one had noticed that it was not a complete submersion. Would she all these years only suppose herself to be a Christian, when in fact she was not in God’s sight since the institution of immersion was not perfectly performed? “This is being ridiculous,” one might say, “for the girl’s intention was to be immersed, and insofar as she knew, she was.” But was she immersed or only partly immersed? If her obedience was perfect, it is because of the purity of her heart, and of her attempt to comply with the outward form.

How many are there who have hearts just as pure, who believe in the Christ just as much, and who suppose that their baptism, which may be less than immersion, is the baptism of the New Testament? Campbell’s definition of the Christian — one that believes and obeys in all things according to his measure of knowledge — includes those who have submissive hearts but who mistake the act of baptism.

Most of us are inclined to agree that it is the heart that counts, and yet we recognize that God has ordained an outward act to which one is to submit as an expression of that faith. And is one truly a Christian who has not actually submitted to that act as authorized of God?

I am not in a position to give an unequivocal yes or no to this question. Moses E. Lard gave an unequivocal no — one is not a Christian unless he is immersed, while Campbell’s answer was an emphatic yes in the other direction.

This problem reminds me of the situation that now obtains in the case of my three children — or is it correct to speak of all three of them as my children. Two of them are legally adopted and are most certainly my children. But the third one, a little boy that arrived from Germany only a few months ago, is not yet legally my son. He is in the process of being adopted, but it will not be until the International Social Service gives the final word that the court will make him my son. He believes, but he hasn’t been baptized yet!

When I met him at Idlewild in New York last Fall I managed enough German to explain to the five year old lad that I was to be to him a father and he would be to me a son. That has been the spirit of our relationship from then until now. But is he my son? In fact, no. In essence, yes. The court action that will legally make us father and son will make little difference. What is significant about our relationship — the personal love and oneness — is already present. The adoption warrant is important to the perfection of our relationship, but it is only the consummation of a process that began long before.

Paul assures us that the work of Christ was “to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.” (Gal. 4:5)

The new birth is an adoptive process, which is perfected in the believers baptism into Christ. I John 5:1 says, “Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ is begotten of God.”

Every sincere believer in the Christ is my brother in an important sense. We may liken him to the child that is begotten of the father and yet in the mother’s womb, though not actually born into the family. A colleague of mine on a college faculty once referred to his wife’s miscarriage as “a death in the family:’ Just as the little German boy is in a sense in my family now, so is the believer in an important sense in God’s family. One may be a Christian even if his obedience has not been perfected.

I have no half brothers or partial brothers in Christ, just as I am not in “partial” fellowship with some and “full” fellowship with others. A man is my brother or he is not. But there may be a difference between the brother who has more light and has thus perfected his obedience in baptism and the brother who has less light and therefore has not perfected his obedience.

The believer is referred to as receiving and being sealed with “the Holy Spirit of promise” Eph. 1:14. When men partake together of the same Spirit they are one together in Christ. This is “the fellowship of the Spirit” (Philip. 2:1) that makes men brothers.

It is not legalistic regulations of meat and drink that are evidence of brotherhood as much as righteousness, and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.” (Rom. 14:17)

It is the will of God in men’s hearts that makes them brothers: “And looking around on those who sat about him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother:” (Mk. 3:34-35) None of us does the will of God perfectly; if we could, we would not need the Christ to do for us. It is when a man’s heart is set to do God’s will (“they will be done” is the essence of Christianity) that the important thing has happened. He may err often for lack of understanding or weakness, but his heart is surrendered to God. Men certainly cannot enjoy brotherhood together unless God rules their will.

PRINCIPLE ABOVE REPUTATION

The Bible assures us that “A good name is to be chosen rather than silver and gold” (Pro. 22:1), and this advice we all prize highly, but the Bible nowhere suggests that reputation (a good name) is to be chosen rather than principle. It is indeed foolish to sell one’s birthright for a mess of pottage. Heb. 12:16 says that Esau was not only foolish but immoral for doing this. It may be even more foolish and immoral to sell one’s principles for an acceptable reputation. To have “a good name” in some circles may mean one must forsake principle. Christian freedom calls for principle above reputation.

The great heroes of the faith were not men who enjoyed fine reputations in their day. As one checks a list such as the one in Hebrews 11 he finds that “Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, that they might rise again to a better life.” It goes on to say: “Others suffered mocking and scourging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword,” These heroes are described as “destitute, afflicted, ill-treated,” and it says the world was not worthy of them. Such ones hardly made “Who’s Who” or even the list of the brotherhood’s top ten men. They were men of no reputation primarily because they were men of principle.

The apostles were certainly good and wonderful men, for even the foundations of heaven bear their names and they are destined to sit on thrones in glory (Rev. 21:14, Matt. 19:28). Though they rated so well according to heaven, they were “fools for Christ’s sake” among men (1 Cor. 4:10). Paul refers to the apostles as “a spectacle to the world” and “in disrepute.” He goes on to say: “To the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are ill-clad and buffeted and homeless, and we labor, working with our own hands.”

He further says of the apostles: “We have become, and are now, as the refuse of the world, the offscouring of all things.” (1 Cor. 4:13) Speaking of their reputation in the world, he says the apostles were “treated as imposters” and “as unknown and yet well known” (2 Cor. 6:8-9).

This is all strong language. How many of us would choose to be thought of as fools, imposters, refuse and offscouring? Who wants to be ignored or looked upon as a spectacle or held in disrepute? But this may be the price of principle.

Take Jeremiah’s woeful cry: “I am become a laughingstock all the day, everyone mocks me” (Jer. 20:7). Who wants to be a laughingstock? Nearly all mothers want their son to be a success, to be highly applauded, and esteemed among men. The preacher today who is anything like a laughing-stock or “a fool for Christ’s sake” is a strange figure. This is an age when reputation counts, both in terms of money and success. Jeremiah would be a failure by most standards.

Jeremiah wails still more: “I have heard the defaming of many, terror on every side. Denounce, and we will denounce him, say all my familiar friends, they that watch for my fall” (Jer. 20:10). The man who expects to succeed learns not to denounce; he learns to play it smart. The man who dares to be different, especially in that he opposes the views and practices of those who support him, may expect to be denounced. If one holds to principle above reputation, he may have to pay in terms of cold cash as well as the icy reaction of his friends.

What kind of a reputation did Luther have? or Alexander Campbell? or any historical figure that made any real contribution to the world? They have all been rejected by their own people, sometimes being jailed and even murdered, but always spurned and mocked. The great scientists were all laughed at. The reformers were jeered. Suppose they had put reputation before principle? If one hopes to make any substantial contribution to the world, especially when it calls for an attempt to change people’s beliefs and practices, he must prepare to be thought a fool.

The most principled men oftentimes have the worst reputation, judged by popular standards. Ahab the king said of one prophet: “There is yet one man by whom we may inquire of the Lord, Micaiah the son of Imlah; but I hate him, for he never prophesies good concerning me, but evil” (1 Kgs. 22:8) Men often say of Micaiah’s kind: “He’s always been a trouble maker.” And he is not the kind that makes the college lectureships, nor unless someone puts him on by mistake. It was because of principle that Micaiah had no reputation. The record makes it clear that the prophet stood alone, for “all the prophets” in Ahab’s Court were saying what the king wanted them to say (verse 12).

Ahab was different. Even when told those things that would put pressure on most men, he replied: “As the Lord lives, what the Lord says to me, that I will speak” (verse 13). The prophet got into trouble. The last we hear of him he was in jail living on bread and water. Was he a successful preacher? To say the least, men like Micaiah are few and far between — as rare as men who put principle above reputation.

In this regard one might ponder the words of Alexander Campbell, who knew men so well:

It is a rarity seldom to be witnessed to see a person boldly opposing either the doctrinal errors or the unscriptural measures of a people with whom he has identified himself and to whom he looks for support. If such a person appears in any party, he soon falls under the frowns of those who either think themselves wiser than the reprover, or would wish so to appear. Hence it usually happens that such a character must lay his hand upon his mouth or embrace the privilege of walking out of doors. (Christian Baptist, Vol. 1, preface)

Check out Campbell’s statement and you will probably find it true among the people you know. What happens to the men in the disciple brotherhood (or any brotherhood for that matter) that dare to be different? The party permits a man to fuss a little about this and that, and will even commend him for his courage, but the man usually knows how far he can go. One thing is essential: his loyalty to the party must never be questioned. If he is sound and loyal, if he conforms in the things that count, he may otherwise say or write a few things along that are even revolutionary. But he is like the sea, for he knows he can go so far and no farther. As Campbell puts it, he must “lay his hand upon his mouth or embrace the privilege of walking out of doors.”

An interesting behavior of the unprincipled man who must watch his reputation with the brotherhood is the way he steers clear of questionable characters. While such characters, who are often high-minded men, would not corrupt his good morals, they might corrupt his standing with the brethren. You sometimes find this among the “don’t quote me” and “don’t use my name” group. They don’t like to put things down on paper. They are very cautious what they say around the party leaders. They may think it, but they dare not say it. A group standing together may all think it, but no one would dare reveal it because of the fear of what the others would think.

The man who loses his reputation because of principle, and as I write this a number of names come to mind, can tell you how his “friends” drop out of his life one by one, each because of the pressure applied by party bigwigs — a pressure that is subtle and indirect, at first at least. Brethren become cool towards him, and sometimes they’ll speak hurriedly and move on. A party man is uneasy in the presence of a non-party man. Sectarianism cannot stand a non-sectarian. So the sectarian must hurry along and find company with his own kind. Rationality is rare among men who must constantly guard their party reputation. They can’t reason calmly and without passion. They must rely on the time worn cliches of partyism. They dare not think.

This explains why those who conduct these unity forums have difficulty getting a representative party man to join in. He may want to, but he must consider the cost, and usually he decides not to. The reason is simple: unity gatherings that by their very nature are composed of controversial figures (since only such ones dare do something different) are off limits for the party. It is not unquestionable conduct. One leaves himself open to criticism. He sees what has happened to others who would dare to keep company with non-conformists. There’s his job, his standing, his reputation. How about principle? He will never admit it to himself, of course, but he will sacrifice principle for his reputation. He will find some way to save face, some way to rationalize and justify himself, but the one thing he must do is to stay within the good graces of those who support him.

This is why he must take care that he not identify himself with the wrong men through questionable association (such as a unity meeting). He becomes uneasy when he sees his name used in such a context. He has to keep his ear to the ground. What will be the reaction to this?, he asks himself. This is why men are more willing to attend unity sessions as “observers” and in company with others of the party than to take an active role. It is safer. When one serves as a leading figure in a unity effort, he may have to stand alone and even aloof from the protective confines of his own segment, and most men (nearly all) simply have not got the courage.

It sometimes happens that men who want to be principled will commit themselves to share in a unity program. They really believe in it and want to make a worthwhile contribution to better understanding in our divided brotherhood. They give their word to participate, and this they do in all good faith. Then comes the pressure and the handwriting on the wall. The unfree mind must yield. He cannot go through with it, so he manages to find a way out. It may not be rational, but he must get out of it nonetheless.

Nothing is so pitiful as a mind that wants to be free but dares not.

It is a question of values, which in Christ are so different than in the world. If one takes Christ’s way he must abandon the values of the world. What is more contradictory than “Happy are the poor” and “Woe to the rich.” The world has it the other way. Jesus teaches that the joy of heaven will amply compensate for hardship in this world. The man of principle will be rewarded: “Our light affliction is but for a moment and works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory” (2 Cor. 4:17).

We need men who are willing to be different, willing to take a chance. To lead our brethren out of partyism one must go on ahead into new frontiers of thought. How about the reprisals? We need the spirit of G. K. Chesterton, whose principles constantly got him into trouble, who said: “I like getting into hot water. It keeps you clean!”

TO “C” OR NOT TO “C”

One editor among us complains in his journal of another editor’s use of the capital “C” when referring to the Church of Christ. He says in the recent editorial: “He calls the Lord’s church the Church of Christ, always using a capital ‘C, thus equating it with denominational religious bodies.” The editor goes on to criticize the other editor for his “constant use of the capital ‘C’ when referring to the church of Christ.”

For some reason the small “c” has become one more mark of loyalty. It is a sure sign of one’s initiation to orthodoxy. No sound writer would make the mistake of using the capital letter; he carefully puts it down “the church of Christ” without fail. For months, if not years, I have made it a point to observe this shibboleth among us. Rarely does even a neophyte make the mistake of the big “c” and never does the veteran keeper of orthodoxy.

To illustrate the point I have just thumbed through a recent issue of Firm Foundation, somewhat at random, looking for a reference to the “church of Christ.” One article is a review of the book “History of the Churches of Christ in Texas.” Since this was the title of the article, the rules permit the capital “C”. In the article itself there are at least four references to the Churches of Christ, and each time the small “c” is faithfully employed, even in such a context as “The chapter on the period from 1906, the year of the first listing of the churches of Christ as a separate body . . .” One would suppose that if ever Churches of Christ could be used it would be in a context where a particular religious body is being distinguished from others in a historical situation.

This kind of meticulous care is typical. I recall years ago while attending a Church of Christ or church of Christ Bible school that a teacher belabored the point of the small “c”. He was careful to list the few instances in which the capital “C” could be used. I was a very young man then, and I learned my lesson well, for after all these years I find myself sensitive to the very practice that I now wish to question. As an editor I also have made an issue of whether to “C” or not to “C’, for I have rather habitually thought in terms of the New Testament church as the small “c” church. But I now wonder if this is not one more instance of our dilly-dallying.

This has made me conscious of what others do with the “c” when they are inclined to use the term Church of Christ. In such unlikely places as William Lillie’s An Introduction to Ethics the Church of Christ is referred to with the capital letter, a reference of course to the universal church, and in Elton Trueblood’s General Philosophy the “C’ is used the same way.

An Anglican minister in Manchester uses the term as follows in a 1962 issue of Expository Times: “There are too many Christians whose interest in and concern for the Church of Christ never extends beyond the limits of their own denomination.” It is apparent here that he uses Church of Christ to refer to all the saints of God, not simply to his own Anglican denomination.

Another Anglican, John Baillie, in his Diary of Private Prayer includes the Church of Christ in one of his prayers like this: “I rejoice, O God, that Thou hast called me to be a member of the Church of Christ. Let the consciousness of this holy fellowship follow me whithersoever I go.” This does not appear to be a sectarian use of the term.

Even among the writers like John Locke we find Church of Christ used repeatedly. He says in A Letter Concerning Toleration: “Since men are so solicitous about the true church, I would only ask them here, by the way if it be not more agreeable to the Church of Christ to make the conditions of her communion consist in such things, and such things only, as the Holy Spirit has in the Holy Scriptures declared, in express words, to be necessary to salvation.”

Again he says to all those that would arrogate to themselves such a claim as being the church and yet being factious in attitude: “How that can be called the Church of Christ which is established upon laws that are not His, and which excludes such persons from its communion as He will one day receive into the Kingdom of Heaven, I understand not.” He emphasized his point by the use of the italics. Is not his statement a relevant one? Can the true Church of Christ draw the line on those that God will eventually saved? All of us might consider the possibility that if we reach heaven we may find people that we did not expect to be there — and others that we thought sure would be there turn up missing!

The term Church of Christ was used less frequently by our pioneers than by ourselves. Barton Stone did refer to himself as an “Elder in the Church of Christ,” which is one of the earliest uses of the term in our history. It is this name also that graces the old meetinghouse at Bethany, one of the oldest buildings standing among our people. In her book on the Homelife of Alexander Campbell, Selina Campbell uses the term a few times, always with the capital “C.”

I have noticed a few instances where Alexander Campbell used Church of Christ, though it was not his favorite nomenclature. In the 1852 Millennial Harbinger when writing about the disturbance in Nashville over the controversial J. B. Ferguson, he explained why he was in no position to discipline the heretical brother: “I am not a member of the Church of Christ in Nashville, and consequently have no authority there.” In the same article he refers to something not believed by “a Christian church” in America, referring to the congregations of his own movement.

In Memoirs of Elder Thomas Campbell the Sage of Bethany refers to theories and opinions not being “the foundation of the Church of Christ,” and on the same page he mentions the Holy Scriptures as all sufficient for “the edification and perfection of the Christian Church.”

On and on it goes. These instances were gathered rather casually while in search for other points. It has been my observation that the term Church of Christ has been used rather extensively by all kinds of men of letters, and always with the capital “C.” The pioneers, though not often given to the terminology, also used the capital letter when they used Church of Christ. There may be instances of their using the small “c” in the rather awkward way it so often appears in today’s brotherhood, but I have not observed any.

To be sure there is no great point involved here. The term Church of Christ certainly has its proper use, with or without the capital “C”. My objection lies in the point that is made of it, as if it were a symbol of loyalty. We have to be so right about everything, even to the dotting of the i and the crossing of the t. We tithe stuff like this rather than weightier matters.

To “C” or not to “C”? I cannot see that it matters. If we were Germans it would hardly be a point, for in that language all nouns are capitalized. It cannot be a matter of how it reads in the New Testament scriptures, for the use of capital letters is a matter of the discretion of translators. Some versions use the capital “C” and some do not. In the original manuscripts all the letters were in the capital form!

It may be argued that since the church of the New Testament has no name, and certainly no denominational appellation, we sectarianize the church to call it Church of Christ. But cannot it be “sectarianized” as easily with a small letter as a capital one? And besides, that is not how things are sectarianized, for sectarianism is a matter of the heart. It is altogether possible that men like Baillie, Locke, and Campbell used the capital “C” Church of Christ with less sectarian intent than many of us who arc so orthodox in a small “c” kind of way.

We have to be so right about everything — except so many of the things that really matter!

AROUND THE WORLD IN 70 DAYS

When you read these lines the editor of this journal may well be in Taipei or Saigon, Hong Kong or Calcutta, Jerusalem or Athens, or Paris or Glasgow. By virtue of a grant from the Department of State, known in educational circles as a Fulbright scholarship, I will have the honor of spending several weeks in study at Taichung University, near Taipei, Formosa (Free China). Thirty professors from as many universities in the United States have been selected to take part in these seminars. We shall study Chinese culture, history, religion, and philosophy from the Chinese scholars themselves, and visit some of the cultural institutions of one of the oldest civilizations.

The sojourn in China not only involves a concentrated study of Chinese culture, but calls for interviews with Madame Chiang Kaishek, Vice-President Chen Cheng of Formosa, and Governor Chow Chihjou, and visits to the Psychological Warfare Center at Kinmen, and various educational centers. It is believed that the Institute will open a new era in Sino-American understanding. The thirty professors, all of whom are Ph D.’s, are expected to return to their universities better prepared to promote East-West understanding.

After the Institute in Formosa the professors are flown to Hong Kong for a visit, where they are turned loose, and are free to return home however they please. I chose to return through Europe, which means of course that I will circle the earth, quite a journey for a poor boy that has never been anywhere.

My itinerary is breathtaking: San Francisco, Tokyo, Taipei, Hong Kong, Saigon (Vietnam), Bangkok (Thailand), Calcutta (India), Delhi (India), Beirut (Lebanon), Jerusalem, Tel-Aviv, Athens (Greece), Rome, Frankfurt and Stuttgart (Germany), Paris, London, Glasgow, New York, Dallas.

This will all happen in seventy days, traveling by air all the way. Besides the seven weeks of formal education in Formosa, I will have two days in Tokyo, three days in Hong Kong, a day or so in Saigon, two or three in Bangkok and Calcutta, and long enough in Delhi to see the Taj Mahal and a few other places and persons, almost a full week in the Holy Land with headquarters in Jerusalem. I made it a point to have at least three full days in Athens, Greece, two or three days in Rome. Paris holds less attraction to me, but I’ll stop over for a day or so in order to visit the great universities and museums. Germany is important to me because of friends I have there, so I’ll spend several days in that country, and will make it a point to drop by my new son’s orphanage in Karlsruhe and say hello to the nuns that have helped rear him. And of course Dick and Nell Smith, longtime friends, will be a stopping place in Karlsruhe.

Copenhagen was originally on my itinerary, but we ruled against that in order to provide more time in London and Glasgow where I hope not only to visit the famous universities and some of their renowned scholars, but to call on brethren whom I have long loved by reputation.

All along the way I hope to contact missionaries who represent different wings of discipledom on these far-flung areas of the world.

As long as I am in Formosa and under the care of the Department of State I suppose I’ll live rather high on the hog, but once they turn me loose in Asia and Europe I plan to live as close to the people of those lands as I can. I am more interested in visiting with people than in seeing things, more concerned with ideas than with mountains and lakes. In Formosa I will visit the homes of some of my Chinese students at Texas Woman’s University.

Ouida and the three orphans will run things at home, and assuming that I make it back you might look for an editorial on what happened.
 

 

WHY WOMEN SHOULD BE EDUCATED

Women should be educated. And why? Because they then become more pleasing to men! Want of an education makes a woman turbulent, clamorous, noisy, nasty, the devil. On the other hand, an educated woman is all softness and sweetness, full of peace, love, wit, and delight.   — Daniel DeFoe

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If Stephen had not prayed, the Church would not have had Paul.   — St. Augustine

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Diversity was one of the fundamental foundations of our country, but now it is being frowned on.   — Alan Barth