Pilgrimage of Joy. . . No. 49

WAGING PEACE
W Carl Ketcherside

One of the greatest blessings which has come to me has been the privilege of working with the Canadian brethren. Their great hospitality, developed in part from a frontier existence not too many decades ago, is proverbial. I have been with them from the Maritime Provinces on the east to beautiful Victoria in the far west. It was because of this I looked forward with keen interest to speaking at the Prairie Young Peoples Association Conference, held in Yellowgrass, Saskatchewan, April 15-17, 1971.

The congregation at Yellowgrass is unique. Never very large, it has sent out more preachers than any place else I have known. Most of these were educated in the states, and most of them remained in “The lower forty-eight” as these United States are called. I had met many of them and knew a great many other brethren from Yellowgrass before I arrived. Without exception they were all sincere and sacrificing for the Cause of Christ. The conference was excellent. It made possible for the bonds of fellowship to be tightened from Winnipeg to Dawson Creek. It lapped over into the northern tier of states and drew people from all of them.

On Sunday night, after the conference had concluded in the afternoon, brethren had made arrangements for me to speak in Regina, the beautiful capital of the province. The meeting was held in the Christian Church building. The brethren were in a turmoil. There was a division of sentiment as to which direction they should go on “restructure” which was the talk of the Americans in those days. We were favored by having with us four members of the Anglican clergy. They heard me declare the good news as our only hope. I pointed out that, in the final analysis, all fellowship with God was on a personal basis. It was man-to-God. Regardless of what happened to institutions it could not sever the relationship unless we consented to having it do so.

On April 26-30 I was scheduled for a fellowship rally at Phoenix, Arizona. It continued for five nights in the North High School Auditorium: By selecting a “neutral place” it was believed that more people could attend without offending their tender consciences. I was interviewed on radio twice and appeared on television in talk shows twice. In one of these people could call in and ask questions directly. It was interesting to note that while we were engaged in the great and vital issues affecting the whole world of believers, and unbelievers, that questions from members of the Church of Christ all had to do with instrumental music. The fact that we were divided and rent asunder in direct contravention to the prayer of Jesus seemed of no particular consequence. The sordid problem of division had to be aired. The question was no longer “What think ye of Christ? whose son is he?” It was now “What think ye of a piano?”

I went next to Columbus, Ohio for the Central Ohio Minister’s Fellowship, May 12-24. My theme for the series of talks was “Growing Up in Our Understanding of Christian Unity.” I gathered that almost all of the men agreed with me theoretically, but lacked a knowledge of how to implement what I was saying practically. Without realizing it was happening, we had been betrayed by circumstances into becoming a non-sectarian sect. We were in partisan competition with other sects about us. We thought we were right and could not be wrong. They thought the same thing of themselves. We looked upon one who was converted to us as being a convert to Christ. It was obvious that we were in some cases developing a “personality cult” built around the charisma of a preacher. It would take a long time until we truly grew up in our concept of the unity for which Jesus had petitioned.

Our problem was augmented by fear. We had become afraid to venture beyond our traditions. We were frightened at the thought of experimentation, so no new discoveries of how to work were being made. Like a cow tethered to a stake we grazed in our own restricted circles. The length of the rope determined the area we would cover. Yet, all around us was a world dying for what we could share. Meanwhile we were meeting only with those who agreed with us, and rearranging our prejudices. The only bright spot in an otherwise discouraging picture was that created by a few hearty souls who ignored the brands of men and sought to relate meaningfully to the cross of our Lord.

I stayed with Jeff and Linda Smith. They were some of my favorite people. They had been in Great Britain and we had mutual acquaintances there. It was wonderful to be in their home. Jeff was a student at the university and I got to visit it. It was a great buzzing beehive of activity. On May 24, I went to James River Chapel, south of Springfield, Missouri, where I was among friends I had known since my boyhood days. I held my first meeting in the area when I was fifteen and had returned often. For five nights I spoke on the theme, “Will the Real Jesus Please Stand Up?” I showed how we had constructed our own images of Jesus which were not real. at all. We had caricatured him only to satisfy our own longings and ideas, but behind the masks we had created stood the real Jesus, still longing to help us.

June 7-11 I began at Highland Church in Louisville. Ernest Lyon ministered to it. It had known some of the great men of the past. Among them was E. L. Jorgenson, who had come from a Scandinavian settlement in Nebraska to become one of the great song compilers of his era. With his goal, the upgrading of the vocal music of the congregations, he was led to bring out “Great Song of the Church.” It caught on. He had hit upon the idea of alphabetizing the hymns in several categories. It was a privilege to be in his home and to share experiences with him. He had ministered in Toronto, and had been instrumental in introducing Claude Witty and James DeForest Murch.

These two men began a series of “unity meetings” in 1936. They had agreed that “tradition, creedalism, provincialism, institutionalism, Pharisaism, extremism, indifference, self-sufficiency, ignorance, proselyting, distrust, and all the imps of Satan were running riot. The leadership of the churches were not calling for unity. There was no great uprising of the rank and file demanding it. Yet we, as a people, had preached it; we ought to practice it.”

Men from both sides risked their futures and engaged in irenic discussion. I opposed it with characteristic ignorance. We were the loyal church and that was it. Finally, the radical element from both sides shot down the meetings. Foy E. Wallace had bitterly opposed them in the south. They came to nought because the brethren were thinking war instead of peace. It was war against brethren and it was much more appealing than war against Satan.

In early July I attended and spoke at the conference on unity at Atlanta Christian College, in Atlanta, Georgia. It was well attended but I came away feeling that more groundwork was needed. The questions showed a strange lack of relevance to the unity of all believers. That passion ‘for oneness had not yet been fanned into flame. Each party was interested in unity which came its way. There was too much of the spirit of the snake and frog which promotes togetherness by the first swallowing the latter. Several years of teaching would have to be done before each was willing to move toward a common center and let Jesus become the real focal point.

August 2-6 I was back in Oregon at Camp Wi-Ne-Ma for a family camp. It is located in a beautiful spot where hills and mountains drop down to meet the ocean. From my window I could watch huge whales sporting offshore. More than a thousand people were registered. Campers covered the entire area. I was Bible lecturer for the week. In addition, I met with the young people each afternoon. The winds and waves had hollowed out a natural bowl of sand on the shore and we used it for our discussions. All other adults were barred and I could listen freely to the problems and hangups of more than two dozen teenagers. I was, as usual, deeply impressed with their enthusiasm and potential.

Next I went to the Blue Ridge Men’s Clinic, which was held not too far from Grandfather Mountain. This spot is known for its gathering of the clans every year. Dressed in tartans and colorful plaids, thousands of people of Scottish ancestry assemble for a reunion. The sound of the pipes reverberates through wild mountain glens. Scottish dances and games are carried on apace to the exultant cries and cheers from thousands of voices. I know some who have not missed attendance there in years, going back repeatedly to eat haggis and to down Scotch oatcakes.

The clinic featured Beaufort Bryant, Clarence Greenleaf and myself, together with 754 other men. It was no place to go to catch up on your sleep. Some men talked virtually through the entire night, huddled’ around little campfires, and fortified inwardly by coffee which would dissolve shingle nails. They had often stayed up like this while fox-hunting and it was no problem for them.

I went next to Houston, Texas, one of the fastest growing urban areas in our country. What a contrast it was to the peaceful quiet of the mountain regions of the east, where one could hear the far-off crow of a rooster as he awakened in the morning. Once again, at Sidney Lanier Junior High School I conducted a Fellowship Forum for three nights. It was necessary to define fellowship again for those who had been betrayed into thinking it was something man had the power to extend or withdraw, when in reality, it was a state in which we were simply called to share. To accept one another freely was the greatest blessing to which we had been called.

I have often read a piece of reportorial writing with deep appreciation. I know that a reporter must be selective. He must be judgmental. This means that what is not said may be even more important to another than what is covered. I feel the same tensions in writing this. There was my meeting at Astoria, Illinois, and Canton, Ohio, and the Louisiana State Convention at Shreveport. Everyone of these was important. At Canton I spoke 12 times in five days and addressed three breakfast meetings. Yet space will not permit full coverage of them.

On October 20 I was back at San Jose, California, to deliver the Roy B. Shaw Memorial Lectures. These were, by terms of the will, to be about the restoration movement. My themes were: The Death of A Dream; The Recovery of Reason; and A Faith For the Future. I demonstrated that our restoration movement arose at a certain period in history. It was spontaneous and not planned. It was adapted to the cultural needs of man as he then existed on the frontier. We no longer live in those times. We must launch a new movement dedicated to renewal through recovery of the apostolic proclamation, purpose and power. We must make the ageless gospel meet the needs of the Space Age.

Later I went to the Genessee Church of Christ, near Flint, Michigan, where it was my privilege to stay with Frank Rester and his good family. Then I found myself at Eldon, Missouri where Seth Wison, Gareth Reece, Russell Boatman and myself engaged in a two-day forum on “The Holy Spirit.” I closed my travels for the year at Windsor, Illinois. It was close to Sand Creek, where the division all began. It was there that for the first time the opinions of men were made tests of fellowship, and those who did not conform were told that they no longer would be regarded as brethren. It seemed like a good place to go back to and proclaim the gospel of peace and seek to undo some of the tragic ills which had resulted from an ill-conceived policy.