LOOKING IN ON “THE DEBATE OF THE CENTURY”

You might have supposed that on Sept. 23 when you were viewing the Ford-Carter debate that you were witnessing what might be called “the debate of the century.” If not that one, them perhaps the Kennedy-Nixon exchange in 1960 would warrant such an accolade. But not so. On that very night, Sept. 23, a debate was taking place right here in my hometown of Denton, Texas that was persistently advertised far and wide as “the debate of the century.”

My brethren are given to superlatives, just why I am not sure. Recently a soul-winning workshop conducted by a Church of Christ in one of our area cities was hailed as “the most significant event in the history of the modern church.”

The participants were Antony Flew, a philosophy professor from Reading, England, and Thomas Warren, a philosophy professor from Memphis, Tn. The issue was the existence of God, with the British prof contending that “I know that God does not exist,” while Prof. Warren affirmed, “I know that God does exist.” It was held in the new coliseum of North Texas State University and attracted an average of about 4,000 to 5,000 people for each of the four evenings, many of whom came from afar. Buses from schools of preaching and from such colleges as Freed-Hardeman and Ohio Valley brought students by the scores. They heard the debate at night and then took courses on it during the day, with teachers being imported for that purpose. There was also “preaching” all afternoon at the University Church of Christ, who sponsored and financed the whole affair, with some help from other congregations.

The congregation even sponsored Tony Flew, the atheist, which must be a first in the history of our debates. I know of no other instance where our folk sponsored and financed both sides of a public discussion. And we’ve debated atheists before. When W. L. Oliphant, for instance, debated a Mr. Smith on the existence of God, Mr. Smith was endorsed by the American Association of Atheism, of which he was the president. But Prof. Flew was endorsed by no one, except the University Church of Christ, and it was that congregation that paid for his round-trip flight from London and provided him with a rather liberal expense account. If some of the rest of us had spent “the Lord’s money” like that, we’d be accused of “having fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness” or of bidding God’s speed to a false teacher. When our folk don’t want to debate someone, they’ll protest that they should not provide an audience for a false teacher to air his views, and that a dissenter should get his own crowd. Well, this time we picked up the tab for an atheist’s junket abroad, provided him with an audience (very few, if any, of his folk were in attendance), and allowed him to say what he pleased. It just shows that if we want to do something, for whatever reason, we can find a rationale.

I am flattered that people ask me what I thought of the debate, as if it really mattered. It may rather be my penalty for living in Denton. I do not hesitate to say that I do not agree with either side of the proposition. No one can prove that God does not exist, and no one realizes that more than Tony Flew. That is why he had to spend time analyzing the language he was using. He knows God does not exist, he explained, like he knows fairies do not exist. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t even know that fairies do not exist, for there just might possibly be one somewhere, depending, of course, on what that word is made to mean. He only means that the idea of God’s existence is contrary to both his experience and his reason, as he sees it.

But neither would I affirm that I know God does exist. The attempt to prove such is to make religion a matter of science rather than faith. The scriptures make it clear that it is a matter of faith: “Those that come to God must believe that he is . . .” I could say, “I believe that God exists, and here are my reasons why.” But even so one never proves God’s existence. The thesis that God is is an axiom that one accepts as true or as untrue. It is neither provable or disprovable. God gives us evidence of His existence, and so we have grounds for our faith. That evidence may appear to us to be so overwhelming that disbelief itself becomes a mystery, but still it is a matter of faith rather than knowledge. If we could prove it, like we can prove oil to be lighter than water, then there would be no such thing as disbelief. But that is the point of religion, that it be grounded in faith, thus touching the heart more than the head. Religion is a love story, not an intellectual or philosophical system.

I was able to hear only half of the debate, so I am hardly in a position to evaluate it — even if my evaluation would be worth anything, —which it wouldn’t. But I heard enough to be left uneasy with brother Warren’s approach. He attempted to prove by rationalistic arguments that God exists.

He said as much to Flew. After portraying an involved logical argument on a chart, he said something like, “I have proved by this deductivc argument that God does exist.” This is a risky position to take. If the issue is that clear-cut, why is unbelief so persistent? He proved no such thing. All such arguments begin with premises that are assumed to be true, that an atheist only needs to call in question. Perhaps this is why the Bible makes no attempt to prove God’s existence. From first to last His existence is taken for granted (or treated as an axiom) and postulated on the grounds of faith rather than knowledge.

Brother Warren made it appear that faith (which really becomes knowledge!) has no particular problems. The theist has all the answers. One can be dogmatic and arbitrary about it, and if the atheist doesn’t come to see it like we do, then there has to be something wrong with him. There is no other ground, no reason for doubt or difficulty.

As one of the local philosophy teachers who volunteered to help entertain the visiting British scholar, I had occasion to explain to him my own approach to a theistic faith, which is based on God’s revelation in nature, in scripture, and in Jesus. I believe because of Jesus! I do not believe God’s existence can be proved by the usual classical arguments, whether the cosmological or teleological, or what have you. These might confirm one’s faith, but they prove nothing. They may be reasons for believing, but not proof. Furthermore, I cannot be a dogmatic theist, for I recognize that however deep faith grows it may still have intellectual problems. I fear that a faith that becomes dogmatic and rash, assuming that it has no problems, is all too superficial. With the man in Mk 9:24 we can all say at one time or another, “I believe, help my unbelief.” We often have to say, in the face of so much human suffering in a world ruled over by a benevolent God, I don’t know, I don’t understand, but still I trust Him.

The atheist must admit that he, too, has some serious problems. It is only in this context of mutually accepted difficulties that any ground can be gained with atheists. Such rashness that ties evolution inseparably to atheism, which brother Warren also did, only drives the wedge deeper and leaves atheists supposing that we are ignoramuses, in spite of our claims to be otherwise. After all, there are many theists, including some of our own Church of Christ people, who accept the evolutionary theory. But to Tom Warren it all falls or stands together. There are really no problems left, once you carefully scrutinize his charts and accept his arguments. Chart 47-C proves it, so what’s your problem!

I was listening in when one of our young Ph.D.’s, or maybe a candidate for the degree, said that Tom Warren would come nearer making an atheist of him than Antony Flew would. I might not put it that way, but there is cause for such an evaluation. To trust in the God of the Lord Jesus Christ must one become a dogmatist? And, after all, Flew was being asked to believe in a God whose church on earth is really a Tennessee-Texas sect that not only condemns all other believers besides itself, but even condemns those within its own party that veer from the party line.

As I listened to the debate, my mind wandered for a moment. It was the judgment scene. Brother Warren could at last make his point, once and for all:

Warren: See there, Dr. Flew, God does exist, just as I told you.

Flew: Indeed he does, old chap, but he is not quite the God that you were asking me to accept, is he now?

This was, indeed, a case of rightwing Church of Christism come to town. I began to get calls from folk far and wide, despite their misgivings about me. J. D. Bales, who moderated for Tom Warren, and I had lunch together. J. D. knows that I both love and like him, and I think he does me, so we get along as believers should, enjoying a leisurely lunch together. But he had to assure me that lunching with me does not mean that he agrees with me on everything! So, I pass that along to my readers as I relate the incident, for his protection. I presume that he has to make that speech to everyone with whom he dines, or else concede at least to himself that he is in perfect accord with whomever it is. Or is it for some reason different in my case?

I was at the meetinghouse near the close of a day session to greet an old college roommate that had called. They were all there, and I fear my presence created an issue far more emotionally charged than was the debate of the century. Ira Rice, Jr. wanted to know about my association with Flew, firsthand before he writes me up, I took it. Questions from others were calculated to identify me with Flew. One fellow laid it out in logical form, influenced perhaps by Warren’s logic, to the effect that if I “compromised the truth” with the Christian Church then I’d compromise the truth about God’s existence.

One brother from Tennessee considered it proper to get up before the audience, following the sermons, and brand me as a false teacher. There were several rousing Amens. I got a dim impression of not being exactly loved and appreciated! But I was pleased that I could love them still and pray for them then and there, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. And, bless them, they really don’t. I love Jesus and I cherish his word. I stand for what the universal church has believed and died for from the days of Paul and Peter to the time of Luther and Campbell. I am no doubt mistaken about some things, but I am not a false teacher, nor would I label them as such. But they were behaving maliciously toward their brother, and it was all so unnecessary.

The best I could determine was that I am a false teacher because I “fellowship the Christian Church,” believe there are Christians among the sects, and accept Baptists as brothers without their being re-immersed for the remission of sins. I explained to the brother who had publicly charged me that I do not fellowship the Christian Church anymore than I fellowship the Church of Christ, that fellowship is a relationship that we have with Jesus, and all who are “in Christ” are in that fellowship.

Since Alexander Campbell had been referred to honorifically only a few minutes before I had been castigated, I thought it appropriate to point out to the brother, with a crowd gathered about us, that every charge he made against me could also be made against Campbell. Campbell believed there were Christians in the sects, including the Baptists that he accepted as brothers without re-immersion. He himself was immersed without realizing it was for the remission of sins, and when he made the connection a decade or so later, he was not baptized again “for the remission of sins.” So, I pressed the brother for an answer, Was Alexander Campbell a false teacher? He positively refused to answer. One can sometimes draw applause, before certain audiences, for calling Leroy Garrett a false teacher, but it doesn’t sound quite right to say the same thing about Alexander Campbell, even when the facts are parallel.

Still another brother in his discourse accused me of dividing that congregation, the one where they were gathered, the one promoting the debate. There was, indeed, a split in that church, with some 150 people walking out and starting over, and this included two of the preachers, elders and many business and professional people — the very heart of the congregation. And Leroy Garrett did it! They impute to me power and influence that I neither have nor want. It is more of their logic. After all, I live in Denton, so . . . And why should the leadership admit the real reason to be their own narrow sectarianism when they can blame it on someone else? The truth is that I had no more to do with that congregation dividing than Gerald Ford or Jimmy Carter. The ones that left were driven away by an unreasonable, unloving, and uncooperative attitude on the part of the leadership. Hearing that I had had considerable contact with brethren with their problem, I was asked to meet with a dozen or so of them one evening. Upon hearing their story I advised them to stay with the congregation, to keep loving and to keep working for a peaceful solution. They did remain until the next preacher came. Finally they decided the situation was hopeless and left. I laid these facts before the brother who had falsely charged me, in the event he would like to make the correction — “for your sake more than mine.” But that was the way he had heard it and he wasn’t going to take it back. I told him that the elders of the new congregation had stated publicly that I had nothing to do with their departure. Still it did not matter. Like Pilate, what he had said he had said. Besides, all these years I had divided so many churches that the charge is so generally true that it could fairly be made in this case. I asked him to name a church I had divided. “This one!” was his answer.

Finally I found my old college friend, an obscure preacher who loves the Lord and serves him simply and devotedly, and a brother who under other circumstances would have treated me differently. After all, he had called in hopes that we might see each other. But he, too, belongs to the party (still I love him!) and in that tense situation he, too, had to lecture me rather than to recall old times. He seemed to agonize over it, concerned as he was for my soul. So I sat down in one of the pews, suggesting that he talk about whatever was on his mind. It was not the way I was treating Ouida or that I was not paying my debts, or that I had denied my Lord or gone off after the likes of Rev. Moon. From his troubled countenance came this: “Leroy, you know that instrumental music will send a church to hell!” It was a sad situation, but I am not one to give up. Even in that audience there were surely a few who will pause to ask themselves, Is this the kind of religion I want to live and die by?

As for my old friend (he and I as boys used to stand on bales of hay to preach!) I thought of Thomas Campbell’s evaluation of the many evils caused by the party spirit: It is anti-Christian, anti-scriptural, and anti-natural. Anti-natural, how discerning that is. Down deep inside his heart a brother wants to reach out and embrace, to accept, to love and be free, but the party says no. He does not belong to us; indeed, he is opposed to us, so you must reject him. Man wants to grow and expand his mind, to read, to think, to question, to move in larger circles — all this is natural — but the party spirit forbids it. Maybe that is why Campbell said he was sick and tired of the whole sectarian mess!

All this set me to thinking: is this the religion that we would have Tony Flew to take back to England with him? Is this the God that we would hold up before him?

While in Denton our British friend attended the Unitarian Church. There was an in-depth discussion on the plight of the aged. Flew, who has long been concerned over the predicament of the aged around the world, observed that in our mobile culture it must be traumatic for a person to have to sit in a chair and never again drive a car. On the day that I volunteered to take him around, I arranged for him to see our underground complex that houses the Civil Defense Agency, where the president might come to run the country in case of nuclear attack. Flew revealed himself to be a man aware of and concerned about global problems, and he named the containment of Communistic aggression as the world’s most serious problem today. Population and energy are the next most serious. He is a free and jovial man, laughs at his own mistakes, often refers to his little girl and his father who was a Methodist minister (Warren in the debate: “You can’t help but like the man.”) He even attended a rodeo and would have been pleased for the debate to have been shorter so that he could visit our Big Thicket and delve into Texas history.

If we converted him and sent him back to England, he would have to start his own little sect, rejecting even other Restoration churches. His concerns would shrivel in size from the plight of the aged to instrumental music or what to do about Norvel Young and Pepperdine, or “liberalism.” He probably would lose communication with his daughter and would be embarrassed to refer to his father. He would have to withdraw into a smaller world and be content with narrower interests. He could not associate with folk like you and me. In a debate situation he would have to wind himself tight and dogmatize and be right about everything, even to the point of isolating himself so that he could be sure to “defend the truth” (Warren and the inner-circle were in four motel rooms, with “Do not disturb” orders left with the desk; I could not even get a call through to J. D. Bales). He might even lose his interest in rodeos!

Is a bad religion better or worse than no religion at all? For such unbelievers to come to know the Jesus who spoke forgivingly to the sinful women brought to him and who associated with publicans and harlots, that would be something else. I’ll buy that. But that would also be a big change for a lot of the rest of us.

Well, of course Tom Warren won the debate (who else!), but Tony Flew had more fun. —the Editor
 

 

Man proposes, but God disposes. -Thomas a’ Kempis

No wall means as much to me as a brother. Walls are products of men; my brethren are a creation of God. —Carl Ketcherside, Paths of Peace, p. 4