Travel Letter . . .

SUMMER HIGHLIGHTS

Those who make “the retreat circuit” are encouraged by all the signs of spiritual renewal. These may once have been a good excuse for the fellows to get away from it all and spend a few days goofing off with the gang, or perhaps a chance for the family to take an inexpensive vacation, but they are more and more becoming occasions for serious study and soul-searching. I was present at two of these during the summer and the vibrations that came my way were all positive.

Dr. E. O. Partridge of El Dorado, Illinois was my host for the Annual Men’s Retreat that was conducted at nearby West Frankfort. He and his wife make the second medical family that I know among our folk that has taken a little black child, placing it right alongside their own. Their home is as people-oriented and outgoing as one could be, almost to the straining point it seemed, but these always appear to be the happiest and most productive people I meet. Maybe physicians aren’t so arrogant after all, as per an article I recently saw in the National Observer.

At the retreat I spent several hours reviewing the history of the Restoration Movement, especially in reference to the passion for unity, which sparked the effort, and the ugly pattern of partyism which has well nigh destroyed it. The response was most favorable. Perhaps it is Bicentennial fever, or maybe it is a growing concern for roots and meaning in these uneasy times, but there is no question that our folk generally in discipledom have a growing interest in their common origins. I point out to them that we have a “unity heritage,” and for us to be indifferent to this would be like Quakers showing no concern for their dramatic history as peacemakers.

Anyway, they got sort of turned on at West Frankfort over our history, rank and file folk as well as preachers, and they want to learn more about where we came from and what happened to us along the way. We still have folk in Texas, and maybe a few elsewhere, who agree with Henry Ford that “history is more or less bunk,” but if such ones will give their own past a chance to speak, they might move from a Ford to a Lincoln, for Old Abe told the folk of his day, “We’re making history whether we like it or not.” If we are making it, we’d better take a look at the material we’re using, which is certainly drawn more from the past than from the present. History may well be bunk if one’s only concern is in making automobiles, but for one who seeks to make peace the whole sweep of the past becomes part of his resources.

I was asked to do something similar at the Week of Ministry at Milligan College, where around 200 preachers gathered with their families, mostly from Christian Churches. Having the better part of a week, twice each day, I had time to talk in detail about Barton W. Stone, Thomas Campbell, Alexander Campbell, and Robert Richardson, whom I described as builders of a new republic as well as founders of a movement. They were all, except Thomas Campbell, editors, and even he was a scribe of the old school, giving us the Movement’s greatest document, that Magna Charter of Christian unity, the Declaration and Address, the principles of which we studied in detail. These four were chosen because they wrought out in the crucible of controversy the great principles of our Plea. They moved boldly across a frontier of new ideas and a new nation alike.

Those who hear these stories are surprised to learn that Alexander Campbell was a politician, a leading wool grower, and a builder of a turnpike, as well as publisher, educator and reformer; that Robert Richardson conducted scientific farming experiments for the newly created Department of Agriculture on his Bethany farm and served as the nation’s first “professor of chemistry” as well as a physician, editor, and biographer of Campbell and the chronicler of a great Movement; that Thomas Campbell walked away from one town where he had a school in protest of a law that kept him from teaching blacks; that Barton Stone had such a passion for unity and disgust for partyism that when he moved to Jacksonville, Illinois and found Restoration churches divided, he would have nothing to do with either of them until they united, which they did! (Just now that doesn’t work that way in Denton, Texas!)

The positive response to Restoration history at Milligan and elsewhere has convinced me that much more needs to be done, especially in rediscovering the values and principles that motivated those old soldiers. To this end I plan a series on our history to run all of 1976 in this journal, which will be in keeping with our Bicentennial year. It will replace the current series on the Bible.

Extended meetings with congregations, with assemblies only in the evenings, enable one to stir among the people more than do campus gatherings or unity meetings. At Lowell, Indiana Church of Christ I worked alongside Bill Bush, who was so new to the congregation that I was better acquainted with the people than he, having been in a meeting with them last year. We had a fruitful week of visitation together. There is still no substitution for sitting with people in their homes and sharing Jesus.

One incident at Lowell in a nursing home is indelibly stamped on my memory. While Bill was in another room, I was visiting with this dear old Roman Catholic woman who was so very lonely, of foreign extraction. We talked together about the love of God as manifested through Jesus and how this transcends all sectarian considerations. She lived with her husband for over 50 years before she lost him, and now the hours crawl by like years for her. She saw that I really cared, and it touched her. After the visit Bill and I worked our way back to the first floor in an hour or so. At the entrance way sat this dear old soul, her lonely eyes fixed upon us once more. “I just wanted to look at you one more time,” she said as we left, almost breaking my heart. That was enough to get me back to see her at least once more while I was there.

In another room in this home we prayed over the vegetable-like form of a very aged woman while her “unchurched” daughter stood by in appreciation. She was puzzled as to why her mother, a church woman, was so neglected by the town’s ministers. She wanted to know if the preachers expected to be paid for such service, and I explained that they probably were not aware of the need. But I left thinking, paid to pray! What kind of an impression have we left upon the world as to the ministry of the Body of Christ?

I would urge those who read these words, visit your nursing homes! Not just preachers, but all of you. Take a child along, for those old souls seldom see the younger ones anymore. At first your visits can be random, but you’ll soon find those who need continual attention. You can check them out for a visit to your home. Remember that you are more like Jesus, not so much when properly posed in your pew at church, but when you are out among the world’s lonely rejects, the old and young alike.

Before flying home from Chicago I was blessed with a visit in the home of Jim and Linda Tabor. One evening a number of preachers and their wives from the area were present for a sharing session, which left me deeply thankful for the high calibre of leaders we have in that area. These folk really love Jesus and the church, and we have reason to believe in a bright future for the Church of Christ with this kind of emerging leadership.

I was especially pleased to get to visit with the Matteson Church of Christ (206th and Crawford), where both Jim Tabor and Marvin Pegg minister. That it is one of our freer and more spiritual churches is indicated by the statement it has issued to the public, part of which will especially interest you.

This congregation is a group of people drawn together by a common faith in Jesus Christ for worship and service. It exists here as a simple New Testament body, pointing those around us to the Christ and God of the Bible. Its doors are open to all who from the quiet depths of their hearts would reach out to God in meaningful worship, godly living, and Christian services as revealed in God’s word.

Our service is simple and warm, planned to help each individual to commune rewardingly with the heavenly Father. Brought together by a deep personal need to praise God and receive His blessings, Christians participate actively in each expression of worship. . .

We are a free, independent congregation, led by our elders, with Christ alone as head. We do, however, enjoy a spiritual closeness to other churches of Christ which number about 23,000 congregations throughout the world. We are free to study, teach, and work as our conscience, directed by the Bible, leads us.

Our effort to be simply Christians in no way claims that we have attained to everything that name represents. We confess shortcomings, but believe we are called together in fellowship with Christ and with one another to supply our need.

I have been to the old Grassy Church of Christ near Arab, Alabama many times through the years. We’ve gone through “the change of life” together, with their reputation being almost as bad as my own! As I always do when with them for a few days, I went out to sit with those with special needs. I never cease to be amazed at how tragedy can lay such a heavy hand upon some while leaving others virtually untouched. One sister, barely 40, is nursing her husband as if he were a child. A malignancy is eating away his brain, and now he cannot even feed himself; but he did remember me, haltingly calling my name. A few years back he was robust and healthful, successful in business, and devoted to Jesus. His lovely wife breezes about the home, smiling and ministering as if she owns the world. Even when we can’t understand life when it takes turns like that, we can rejoice in that kind of faith and forbearance.

Another youngish couple there recently buried their 19-year old baby. That’s right, he was still a baby at that age, for he never grew more than a few inches. Never talked, walked or even crawled. Brain damage at birth. He kept on living, to the surprise of the doctors, and he kept on being loved and adored by a dutiful and beautiful mother and a hard-working father, who have one other normal and intelligent child. All those years, myriads of hospitals and doctors and myriads of dollars and diminishing hope, have at last grounded to a halt. Some have to learn that life is difficult and mysterious in the most oppressive ways. I yet think of that sister, always faithfully at her baby’s side, feeding him with an eyedropper, and always hoping against hope that life would change for him, that he would grow as well as live.

I assured her that now that God has her son that the growth problem would be solved, that the Father would grant soul growth, and that someday when she sees her son it will be a different story. And who knows but what heaven will be richer and more meaningful for that couple because of this unique ministry that tragedy handed them, and that the love they gave their child, forsaken by nature, will receive its special reward. A soul, cultivated in heaven and ministered to by angels, may one day say to a radiant mother, Thank you for loving me, in an angelic tongue, of course! —the Editor