Notes from a Travel Diary . . .

FORUMS EAST AND WEST

Over the holidays it was my good fortune to attend special gatherings in Hartford, Illinois and Abilene, Texas. These were both unity forums in that brethren who are normally “out of fellowship” with each other were brought together in sharing sessions. The Hartford Forum in Illinois has been well named, for it has for nearly two decades been a forum for almost every issue of any significance within our Movement. It has probably been the freest of all such gatherings, with complete liberty to discuss everything from evolution and inspiration to inter-racial marriage and glossolalia, and before an audience that is made to feel more like participants than spectators. Small churches have had an important role in religious freedom throughout history, all the way from the persecuted band of saints in Macedonia to the seminal groups at Cane Ridge and Brush Run. The little Hartford congregation joins that glorious cloud of witnesses.

When the Preachers’ Workshop began in Abilene in 1970 those responsible made a point of disassociating it from the college. ACC was not the sponsor, but only provided the context, we were assured. This was in case the thing exploded in their faces, which it could well have done. In four years they have learned that our folk are not only ready for this sort of thing, but are eager for exchanges across lines and at a controversial level. Now the college is the willing sponsor of the event, which this year became the Preachers-Elders Workshop, attracting about 650, with 80 or so being elders. Since there were about that many present last year in the face of a fierce ice storm, one would have expected upwards of twice that number this year with the weather like spring. The issues discussed this time were probably not as lively and momentous as last year.

There were upwards of 200 present for the Hartford gathering, which met at a motel with facilities that accommodated sharing session for all those present, and with Carl Ketcherside presiding, who is probably at his best in such give-and-take exchanges, they alone were worth all the time and trouble. I am still old-fashioned enough to enjoy hearing my brothers and sisters talk about what they think, whether they be housewives, teachers, apple growers, or factory workers. If movements do not reach the grass-roots level they’ll never make it. Hartford gatherings are always down-home enough that everyone present feels like he’s somebody. And yet the sessions are about as sophisticated and daring as any. This year we talked about everything from cultural influences upon church life and the inerrancy of the Word to the nature of baptism and the professional ministry. We even had a woman join a brother in discussing the role of women! My assignment was to examine the system of hiring a man to serve as the minister of a church, but I was embarrassed that the brother who shared the assignment with me was much of the same persuasion, albeit much more severe, in his pronouncements against the system. Such a controversial issue should not have been so one-sided. That was also true at Abilene in an instance or two. My experiences through the years in discussing the pastor system have been so stormy that I would never have supposed that I would ever have shared the platform under such circumstances that my position would have been in the majority. Maybe I had better reexamine my position! My essay is published in the last issue of this journal.

Between Hartford and Abilene I sandwiched a New Year’s Eve celebration with friends in the home of Dr. and Mrs. Earl Edwards in Tulsa, a pleasure I have now had three years in a row, having Ouida and the kids with me one of those times. This was a typical mini-meeting in which we shared together, especially in terms of counting our blessings and counting what God has done in our lives, which allows the sisters to have their say, which of course nearly always outdates what the men say. We saw the New Year in by a study of the Word, drawn from some of our Lord’s experiences with the outcasts of society.

As charming as Earl and Dot Edwards are, making a reject like me feel like a king in their home, the person who stands out in my mind on that trip is a young Tulsa attorney I sat by on my flight from St. Louis, experiences that might well be arranged in heaven. We talked about the problem of legal training, motivated by my question as to whether he agreed with Chief Justice Burger’s complaint that lawyers today are not well enough qualified for the ordeals of a court-room trial. At this he told of his years in law school, recounting what he now sees to be weak spots in his training. “Too much theory and not enough of the practical,” he said. His teachers rarely had courtroom experience themselves, and he felt a need to sit with men who were out where the action is. He opened his heart in reference to his own inadequacies, fearing that his clients get less than what they need. We then talked about the training of the clergy and made some comparisons, which gave me an opportunity to say a word for the priesthood of all believers.

I suggested that with his legal background he should be in a good position to appreciate the fact that our relationship to God is based upon grace rather than law. I pictured all this in terms of a courtroom scene with God as judge and Satan, old diabolos, as “the accuser” or the prosecuting attorney. He and I are sitting there as the accused, with Satan stating his case against us—and I readily granted that I would have no chance in the face of all the evidence Satan would present. In terms of law my case is hopeless and my doom is sealed. But Jesus as my advocate steps before the judge, not to argue in terms of law, but to take my own guilt upon himself. “Leroy is guilty,” says Jesus to the judge, who is his Father, a fact that makes all the difference, “but I take his sins upon myself.” The judge, because of Jesus, declares me “not guilty,” which is what righteousness means. Because I believe in Jesus and respond to his love God makes me right as I stand before him. I pass from judgment into life. I am saved by his grace.

The young lawyer was giving me such attention as I rarely have, whether in a classroom or a livingroom, and it was obvious that he wanted to hear more. So I applied all that I had said to the woman that Jesus talked to at Jacob’s well, recounting the incident fact by fact, showing that her hope lay not in any law, whether the Jewish or the Samaritan, but in the “living water” that only Jesus could give. She was one of the outcasts of society, a woman with a checkered background who probably came the distance to Jacob’s well in order to escape the taunts of the “righteous” women at wells nearer her home. And she walked right into history, into the world’s greatest book, and into the presence of the Son of God, all because of God’s grace. The story reveals how Jesus broke down the walls that separate people: the barrier between races, between male and female, between the righteous and the unrighteous. In him is the love and the light that makes men one.

The jurist was obviously impressed with the Man of Galilee, who, I believe, he saw in a different light. I am left with some way out thinking about things like that, that perhaps God in His goodness sends folk around here and there so that contacts like that are made, and these incidents may be more important for His purposes than the reasons we have for a trip to start with.

I might mention that due to waiting over at Hartford for two days, in view of the Tulsa engagement, I got caught in a 14-inch snow storm, the worst in many years. It was romantic sitting there in Berdell and Dorothy McCann’s livingroom watching the snow pile up. Nature really puts on a good show if we just pause long enough to watch. Even when they announced that Lambert Field in St. Louis was closed, with no planes flying in or out, I was heartened to realize that man with all his ambitious technology, including giant jets of the air, have to wait and give place to nature now and again.

But the McCanns and I got in a trip to Nebo, Illinois before the snow began. Berdell wanted me to visit with his aged parents who were among the charter members of the Hartford church, but who have now returned to their humble home in Nebo. Mr. McCann hears with difficulty, so I was pleased to sit by him and express my love and appreciation for his long and good life with shouts of glory. It was such a sweet experience being with such dear old saints, a taste of that tender fellowship that will be ours in heaven, I’d say. It is sinful of us to neglect the aged. Jesus wouldn’t and didn’t (and doesn’t), that’s for sure.

An interesting aside to the Nebo trip was the old church building that Berdell pointed out to me as a place where Carl Ketcherside often spoke as a boy preacher, beginning when he was barely 13. How beautiful it is that one can give virtually his entire life in service to the Lord. Like Samuel, he was taken to the temple early. Old-timers in those parts like to tell how people would flock in to hear Carl, as much out of curiosity of hearing a boy wonder as anything else, and of how Carl would sometime immerse men twice his size with understandable awkwardness.

Speaking of Carl, while I waited for the plows to clear the snow from the airport runways, I settled down to read one of his old debates on the college question, a book just given me by Berdell, The Ketcherside-Porter Debate. I became especially intrigued with one historical reference that reaches on back to the pioneers. Porter made the point that old Daniel Sommer, the father of the anti-college movement, had changed his position and now stood with Porter and the college advocates. Carl, then only 28, tells of his relationship with Sommer, relating how the old man laid a hand on his shoulder, commissioning him to take his place as the leader in the brotherhood when he passed on. He says that Sommer had told him that when he was Carl’s age old Benjamin Franklin had in like manner deputized him to carry on after his departure. That sort of reaches back, doesn’t it?

I remember seeing the old warrior as a very old man when I was but a youth at Freed-Hardeman. Brother Hardeman was courting him and making the most of his change on the college question, which was probably more of a modification of position, especially in terms of fellowship, than a complete reversal. In his inimitable way he would begin his remarks with a solemn, sonorous “Disciples of the Savior . . .” folding his Bible under his right hand drawn to his breast, standing tall and dignified. For weeks after that we boys in the dorm would compete in mocking him, seeing who could best imitate his canonical “Disciples of the Savior.” I was in the presence of greatness and knew it not. And had I any idea that he was part of an apostolic succession of sorts, having been blessed by old Ben Franklin himself, a pioneer I would later come to admire so much, and the blesser of Carl Ketcherside, whom I had not yet even heard of but who would one day be both friend and co-worker, I would have shown more reverence toward the whole thing,

But in this debate Porter pressed the point of Sommer’s change, the man who had taught Carl all he knew on the college issue. Carl countered by saying he was like Lincoln in that he would stand by a man only so long as he was right, and since Sommer was no longer right he would have to separate from him. “When he espoused the position, by his actions if not by his words, that this man occupies tonight, I had to break the bond between us because my Book says, ‘If any man bring not this doctrine, bid him not Godspeed;” he said, drawing the line of fellowship on his old colleague and using 2 John 9 to justify it! While I got a good laugh out of that, I paused to marvel at how God has lifted Carl from the throes of partyism to make him a leader in a movement to restore love, unity and fellowship to our divided ranks. Why do some men make such changes and others don’t? It looks as if maybe Sommer in his latter years was seeking for peace with his brethren that his party was hardly ready for.

And I was led to muse upon what we have done to 2 John 9-10 all these years, and what we have allowed that interpretation to do to us. One wonders how the notion ever got started, that we can’t invite a brother into our home and thank God for him if he differs with us on cups, classes, colleges, organs, organizations, or the millennium. Or that we’d have to turn from our door the likes of Keith Miller or Francis Schaeffer. It is complete idiocy. I think of the end of Paul’s list of real sins in Ro. 1:30 (Jer. Bible): “without brains, honour, love or pity.” I am compelled to follow Barclay’s interpretation that John is giving an emergency injunction so as to stave off the influence of the Gnostics, who were well nigh in a position to destroy the church.

The trip to Abilene had an added dimension this time in that Fellowship, the magazine published jointly by concerned ones from the Disciples, Christian Church, and Churches of Christ, were to have a luncheon meeting in conjunction with the Workshop. We scheduled it so as not to interfere with the program and at a motel near the campus. We arranged for John Allen Chalk, former minister of the Highland Church of Christ in Abilene and now an attorney in that city, and Frank Cunningham, pastor of the Central Christian Church in Ft. Worth, to be the speakers. This meeting brought a number of Disciples and Christian Church leaders to Abilene, including Bob Shaw, pastor, First Christian Church, Miami; Ken Johnston, Milligan College; Jim Smith, director of Christian Missionary Fellowship; LeRoy Lawson, minister of East 38th St. Christian Church, Indianapolis and chairman of Fellowship; and Bob Mulkey, one of the editors of Fellowship, Salem, Oregon.

I was eager that these men be well received, for they had arranged similar meetings at the Disciples convention in Cincinnati and the Christian Church convention in Indianapolis. But I was fearful the luncheon might fall on its face, for I was about the only one in the group that was acquainted well enough to issue invitations. The ACC officials wanted no announcements made (which I understand), so it was a matter of passing the word to some folk that I thought would be interested. I was a bit discouraged by the prospects the night before, so, tired worrying about it, I simply turned it over to the Lord, asking that he get together whomever he pleased, few or many. I supposed it would be few, the limitations being what they were, so I told the motel folk to prepare for 50, possible 75, and yet I could hardly see where the 50 would come from. The Lord had a different idea about it, for 200 showed up!

It was a moving spiritual experience. John Allen gave a personal account of his pilgrimage in recent years, including a summary of his conversations with his parents and grandparents, who were disturbed by his change of direction. And he related beautifully to his audience, which included folk as far in one direction as Buster Dobbs of Houston and as far the other way as Vic Hunter, editor of Mission. He loved them all and accepted them all as his brothers. Frank Cunningham was also powerful, pointing out that it is the gospel that makes us one amidst diversity of opinions. He really rang true to the Word, making it clear to those present that at least some Disciples still accept the authority of the Bible as much as anyone else.

The Lord really did it up right, for we not only had a tremendous meeting, but the Abilene Reporter-News covered it and gave us a two-column spread in its next issue, with picture and all! But I marvel at Satan’s craftiness, for he always manages to sow tares. The reporter gave us a splendid writeup, but quoted Harry Cunningham as saying that differences on baptism do not matter and that we can be one anyway. To the contrary, Harry was true blue in pointing to faith and baptism as the basis of fellowship, even referring to Walter Scott’s five steps, “which I cut my teeth on,” as he put it. I surmise that the reporter saw that Harry was trying to conciliate, and what has been more controversial than baptism? I am not saying that people might not differ on baptism and still be one, but only that Harry did not say that, and I would not want him to say that, not at Abilene. My first concern is restoring fellowship among those who are already immersed into Christ. If we can’t be one, there is little reason to be concerned with Methodists and Presbyterians.

I would say that the issue at the Workshop was a negative one, liberalism, with the reactionaries in the ascendancy in terms of those on the program. The audience as a whole would be far more free and open than the participants. Liberalism is made to refer to the new look, the new direction, the new emphasis, or as one speaker put it “an effort to restructure the church.”

The two evening sessions were turned into vigorous attacks on Mission, which stands virtually alone as the liberal journal among us. Glen Wallace was ill and could not read his paper on “Liberalism in the Church,” but Buster Dobbs was an appropriate substitute. The paper charged that Mission was a calculated and determined effort to sell out the church. In doing this it teaches evolution, abortion, speaking in tongues, and subjectivism; and it denies the inspiration of the scriptures and the oneness of the church. It also criticizes the pioneers, a charge that boomeranged on Buster Dobbs, for on that evening only one pioneer was quoted (David Lipscomb), and that was by F. L. Lemley, the only “liberal” on that session, to the effect that we have brothers who are in error and that we should bear with one another in our differences. Buster came back and accused F. L. of trying to prove something from the pioneers! The point was that Lipscomb sounded for the world like the quotes from Mission and other “liberals,” so F. L. wanted to know if Lipscomb was a “liberal,” especially since Buster seemed to have such a respect for the pioneers.

There were a few eggs laid along the way, and at this point I will call no names except that of Vic Hunter, editor of Mission, who read an excellent paper on “Responsible Christian Journalism.” He did not even refer to Mission, but his respondents had not come to respond to the principles he laid out for examination, but to attack him, his magazine, and his board. President Stevens, who presided, should not have allowed it, but it went on and on and on, Mission being depicted as trying to do what the respondent supposed earlier journals had done to lead the church astray in former times. But Vic handled the situation with a maturity far beyond his years, observing that the participants had left the issue under discussion and had turned it into a heresy hunt.

The most interesting point to me in Reuel Lemmons’ presentation on “Brotherhood Politics” was that his judgments were concerned more with attacks from the right (Ira Rice, Jr. and the like?) than from the left, which appeared to make him less critical of Mission than previous speakers. And he admitted that if he had to go to hell, he had soon go left as right. Nor does he mind the criticism that he speaks out of both sides of his mouth. After all, you have to do that, he observed, if you are speaking to those on your right and then to those on your left, and he talks to both! I both like and enjoy Reuel so much that I cannot easily criticize him, but I was left with the feeling that he did not allow sufficient room for free, vigorous criticism of our leaders and institutions. He called for loyalty to institutions like ACC, not criticism. And so with the church. I would rather say that one might show his loyalty by criticizing. ACC and like institutions need more criticism, not less, which is true of all leaders and agencies.

But even more important was Reuel’s observation that we are sectarians when we impose our personal interpretations upon others and make them a test of fellowship. I wanted to ask from the floor if an example of that would be one’s view on instrumental music, the millennium, Sunday School, or Herald of Truth, but could not. Afterwards in a small circle he answered to the effect that the problem is distinguishing between matters of faith and opinion. He readily agreed that what is faith to one is opinion to another, and it is this problem that we are going to have to work on in reaching out in fellowship.

I was eager to see the reactions of the Disciples and the Christian Church fellows. They were amazed that there could be such a “shoot out” between preachers in such good spirit. Bob Shaw, who has long struggled with the restructure question among Disciples, said that there would now be better understanding among his associates if there could have been such openness and frankness in their exchanges. They were also impressed that Mission, one little magazine with a modest circulation, could so arouse the leaders of an entire brotherhood. They thought that said a great deal as to how tight things have been with us all these years.

One of them was shocked that the instrumental music thing should be such a big deal, and it was referred to again and again by way of illustration. Why is this such a hang up?, he asked me. It seemed to him that we acted as if it were included in some of those lists of ugly sins in scripture, such as adultery, murder, and witchcraft. How can it be so important when the scriptures say nothing about it either way? I may not have satisfied him in explaining that it reflects a certain disposition toward the silence of the scriptures, and that this in turn is related to the authority of the scriptures. He was hardly ready to accept the conclusion that he did not believe in the authority of the scriptures because he elected to use an organ. It is a matter of interpreting silence in different ways, I told him.

These fellows were astute in seeing those nuances that would normally be known only to those of us “raised in the faith.” When a speaker from the floor raised the issue of ACC faculty being on the board of Mission, one of these fellows leaned over and asked me, “What difference does it make whether they are on the board if ACC is not the church?” And when one of the speakers quoted Elton Trueblood so warmly and approvingly, one of them whispered: “Is Elton Trueblood a Christian?” And when Hunter’s respondents turned on him rather than the issue, they complained with “As chairman, Stevens should call a point of order!” Above all, they were gratified to be so warmly received. Several of them said it was one of the greatest experiences of their lives. And the sprawling ACC campus with all its facilities impressed them. They also identified with Landon Saunders, who was the banquet speaker. Landon identified “the irreducible minimum” of the Christian message as the proclamation that Jesus is Lord, as set forth in Acts, and response to him in faith and baptism. These fellows thought that to be the key to restoring fellowship between us all.

That is a good place to bring this to a close. Yes, what is the irreducible minimum of fellowship? Is it more than what it takes to be saved? Since Landon said nothing about organs and societies and the like, they took it that we can all be one on the ground that we have alike accepted Jesus as Lord and together we have been baptized into him. If we expand the minimum to include other things, we open the gate to partyism, to which there is no end.—the Editor