It’s late Sunday evening and I just came back a little while ago from church…. This letter is prompted partly by . the church and experiences I’ve had with the people. Incidentally, I’m writing this rapidly, not trying to make it a masterpiece of literary art, nor do I expect such a reply.
Well, the church is in many ways a lively one. It is easier to talk with a lot of these people about serious problems in Christian living than it is to some people back home.
…I met a very interesting person in the congregation. Unlike most of the members, he’s not highly educated or salaried. He’s not suave and refined and cultured by American standards—in fact, he’s rather loud and lacks tact. He’s not afraid to say what he believes without hedging…
Now I don’t believe that I have ever met a “common ordinary layman” (realizing the implicit error in the term) whose distinctively biblical vision, insight, and judgment are more dependable than his. As far as I know, he’s the only man with whom I can really feel at ease in discussing various problems from a radically Christian viewpoint.
Not that he and r always agree on details. But I knew from the first time I met him that our hearts were gripped with the same vision, that we were going in the same direction. So when I need dependable Christian advice, he’s the man I normally talk to.
The reason he impresses me so much is that most of my contact with truly reformed Christians has been with those involved in the academic pursuit, pastors, or other well-educated people. So I didn’t really know what the effect would be when the Lord really gripped the heart of such people and also gave them a burning desire to think and act reformationally as well as to read such material.
He is the exception, though. Most of the people are less consistently reformed, though generally quite pious -and that not in a bad sense—no less so than the people back home and more willing to talk about it.
I say this as a background to a serious problem. It’s a problem throughout our church (and others), but it is perhaps a bit more dramatically evident here and it is also faced a bit more honestly. The problem is with young people and their relation to the church—more specifically, more relevantly, though closely related, their whole religious outlook and relationship to Christ.
The problem was brought vividly to my attention when I went for the afternoon to the home of one of the members—fine Christian parents (speaking now in the traditional sense), well-to-do, well-educated, mother and father both Christian college graduates, consistory member, etc. On the way home the wife,…, said that I should know a few things about their 16-year-old daughter (I didn’t know they had a daughter). She refuses to go to church. Fortunately, in this case, the parents are wise enough not to force her.
So I met her. Now I have never met a I6-year-old girl anywhere near as mature as she was—incredibly so. Furthermore, she is astoundingly brilliant.
Of course, the fact that she won’t go to church is only a symptom. In general she is graciously and disarmingly cynical in her outlook on many traditional values—not bitterly cynical, but thoughtfully so.
Because of the fact that there were a lot of people around, I didn’t talk with her about serious problems, about her basic beliefs, etc. Yet the whole thing really set me thinking. What would 1 say if she asked me why she should go to church? Give her the traditional reasons? Now don’t be naive. She’s undoubtedly heard these and they don’t mean anything to her. Should I tell her what the church is, what it should do, how it should guide people so that they can perform their jobs and live their lives Christianly? I can imagine her reply: regardless of what it should be or do, the church is almost totally irrelevant. What am I to say to that? Permit me to be a bit cynical, too. Should I say “Yes, be it irrelevant as it may, it is still through the church that your immortal son, the spiritual aspect of you, the real you when your sinful body is worm-eaten, is saved”?
Seriously, with a bit of hyperbole, I can agree with what she might say, that in so far as the preaching she hears (with exceptions) is Christian, it is irrelevant. And to the extent that it tries to be relevant, it is usually not uncompromised Christianity.
Another experience impressed this irrelevance upon me too. As we were eating one evening, a life insurance salesman came to talk to us. My roommate left. At the end of his presentation, the man, almost furtively, left a tract on the table with a brief vague comment. Now undoubtedly he had done this hundreds of times (he also told me proudly that he puts them under windshield wipers on his way to work). But he was still very uneasy about it. (I would be too. It’s not a very natural way of witnessing. Imagine Christ sneaking a little scroll to the Samaritan woman at the well!) He was almost out of the door before I could call him back to talk with him. He belonged to a small church of the Presbyterian family.
Now if I may again be a hit cynical, let me have a dialogue with that tract. On the front is an innocuous picture of mountains—traditionally justified, I suppose, as a witness to the majesty of God. But to me, totally separated from my life—so real, merely photographically real that it’s unreal. The title: Good News. (This is as I recall it—not verbatim, of course.)
“Good news, hmmm. Let’s see. (opening it)
“God loves you!” (with “proof texts”)
“Well, that’s nice. But of course, he does. God is love. Love is god. God loves me. I’m glad. It doesn’t really turn me on.”
“You have sinned.” (more proof texts)
“Oh, yeah? Well, I guess I have done a few things wrong.”
“You can be saved!” (more proof texts)
“So? Yeah, love is the only thing that can save us.”
“Repent!”
“Now!”
From the traditional church viewpoint, I suppose that was an orthodox tract. In view of the love of God controversy a few people might question the first statement (“God loves you!”), but other than that, pretty reformed. Good proof texts. The tract is mostly scripture. How can that be anything but good?
Imagine receiving it, though, as an unbeliever. Will it impress you? Now I know that it takes God’s Spirit in the man’s heart anyway, but it seems to me that this tract sure tries its best to prevent that. (I’m exaggerating, of course.) The vacuum-packed, canned, and frozen gospel like that will, of course, seem completely irrelevant to his problems and divorced from the concrete situation, the reality in which he lives.
Now I don’t want to give you the impression that what I’ve written so far really represents my attitudes. In a way, you might say that I have forsaken the faith of the fathers if you assume that this indicates my attitude. (Of course, it makes a lot of difference which faith and which fathers you mean.)
Actually, my own convictions have been immensely strengthened. I am more thoroughly than ever gripped with the necessity of listening to God’s Word in all of life.
Well, the church is in many ways a lively one. It is easier to talk with a lot of these people about serious problems in Christian living than it is to some people back home.
…I met a very interesting person in the congregation. Unlike most of the members, he’s not highly educated or salaried. He’s not suave and refined and cultured by American standards—in fact, he’s rather loud and lacks tact. He’s not afraid to say what he believes without hedging…
Now I don’t believe that I have ever met a “common ordinary layman” (realizing the implicit error in the term) whose distinctively biblical vision, insight, and judgment are more dependable than his. As far as I know, he’s the only man with whom I can really feel at ease in discussing various problems from a radically Christian viewpoint.
Not that he and r always agree on details. But I knew from the first time I met him that our hearts were gripped with the same vision, that we were going in the same direction. So when I need dependable Christian advice, he’s the man I normally talk to.
The reason he impresses me so much is that most of my contact with truly reformed Christians has been with those involved in the academic pursuit, pastors, or other well-educated people. So I didn’t really know what the effect would be when the Lord really gripped the heart of such people and also gave them a burning desire to think and act reformationally as well as to read such material.
He is the exception, though. Most of the people are less consistently reformed, though generally quite pious -and that not in a bad sense—no less so than the people back home and more willing to talk about it.
I say this as a background to a serious problem. It’s a problem throughout our church (and others), but it is perhaps a bit more dramatically evident here and it is also faced a bit more honestly. The problem is with young people and their relation to the church—more specifically, more relevantly, though closely related, their whole religious outlook and relationship to Christ.
The problem was brought vividly to my attention when I went for the afternoon to the home of one of the members—fine Christian parents (speaking now in the traditional sense), well-to-do, well-educated, mother and father both Christian college graduates, consistory member, etc. On the way home the wife,…, said that I should know a few things about their 16-year-old daughter (I didn’t know they had a daughter). She refuses to go to church. Fortunately, in this case, the parents are wise enough not to force her.
So I met her. Now I have never met a I6-year-old girl anywhere near as mature as she was—incredibly so. Furthermore, she is astoundingly brilliant.
Of course, the fact that she won’t go to church is only a symptom. In general she is graciously and disarmingly cynical in her outlook on many traditional values—not bitterly cynical, but thoughtfully so.
Because of the fact that there were a lot of people around, I didn’t talk with her about serious problems, about her basic beliefs, etc. Yet the whole thing really set me thinking. What would 1 say if she asked me why she should go to church? Give her the traditional reasons? Now don’t be naive. She’s undoubtedly heard these and they don’t mean anything to her. Should I tell her what the church is, what it should do, how it should guide people so that they can perform their jobs and live their lives Christianly? I can imagine her reply: regardless of what it should be or do, the church is almost totally irrelevant. What am I to say to that? Permit me to be a bit cynical, too. Should I say “Yes, be it irrelevant as it may, it is still through the church that your immortal son, the spiritual aspect of you, the real you when your sinful body is worm-eaten, is saved”?
Seriously, with a bit of hyperbole, I can agree with what she might say, that in so far as the preaching she hears (with exceptions) is Christian, it is irrelevant. And to the extent that it tries to be relevant, it is usually not uncompromised Christianity.
Another experience impressed this irrelevance upon me too. As we were eating one evening, a life insurance salesman came to talk to us. My roommate left. At the end of his presentation, the man, almost furtively, left a tract on the table with a brief vague comment. Now undoubtedly he had done this hundreds of times (he also told me proudly that he puts them under windshield wipers on his way to work). But he was still very uneasy about it. (I would be too. It’s not a very natural way of witnessing. Imagine Christ sneaking a little scroll to the Samaritan woman at the well!) He was almost out of the door before I could call him back to talk with him. He belonged to a small church of the Presbyterian family.
Now if I may again be a hit cynical, let me have a dialogue with that tract. On the front is an innocuous picture of mountains—traditionally justified, I suppose, as a witness to the majesty of God. But to me, totally separated from my life—so real, merely photographically real that it’s unreal. The title: Good News. (This is as I recall it—not verbatim, of course.)
“Good news, hmmm. Let’s see. (opening it)
“God loves you!” (with “proof texts”)
“Well, that’s nice. But of course, he does. God is love. Love is god. God loves me. I’m glad. It doesn’t really turn me on.”
“You have sinned.” (more proof texts)
“Oh, yeah? Well, I guess I have done a few things wrong.”
“You can be saved!” (more proof texts)
“So? Yeah, love is the only thing that can save us.”
“Repent!”
“Now!”
From the traditional church viewpoint, I suppose that was an orthodox tract. In view of the love of God controversy a few people might question the first statement (“God loves you!”), but other than that, pretty reformed. Good proof texts. The tract is mostly scripture. How can that be anything but good?
Imagine receiving it, though, as an unbeliever. Will it impress you? Now I know that it takes God’s Spirit in the man’s heart anyway, but it seems to me that this tract sure tries its best to prevent that. (I’m exaggerating, of course.) The vacuum-packed, canned, and frozen gospel like that will, of course, seem completely irrelevant to his problems and divorced from the concrete situation, the reality in which he lives.
Now I don’t want to give you the impression that what I’ve written so far really represents my attitudes. In a way, you might say that I have forsaken the faith of the fathers if you assume that this indicates my attitude. (Of course, it makes a lot of difference which faith and which fathers you mean.)
Actually, my own convictions have been immensely strengthened. I am more thoroughly than ever gripped with the necessity of listening to God’s Word in all of life.