Of states and denominations

I’ve been thinking about some of our weird state boundaries.  Not being much of a historian, and not caring overmuch about state (or any other) politics, I figure we should combine West Virginia and Virginia.  Maybe subsume Maryland in there while we’re at it?  North and South Carolina?  And what about collecting Kentucky, Indiana and Ohio into a single conglom?  Vermont and New Hampshire might resort to fisticuffs, but they ought to be forced into union for sake of efficiency.  C’mon . . . at least Rhode Island and Massachusetts. . . .  Not sure what to do with the Maine and Florida appendages — they’ll always just stick out, I suppose.  It’s a good thing Texas is gargantuan, because it probably couldn’t be combined with any other state, anyway, but some of the above merging could work, couldn’t it?

See U.S. map here.

Wouldn’t the combos make sense?

  • We could cut down on so much overhead, so much waste.
  • Maps would look more squared off.
  • Oh, but we have a problem — we wouldn’t have an even 50 states anymore.  I guess we could annex Cuba and maybe a few Arab countries and claim “eminent domain” in Manitoba and Saskatchewan.  (If an Arab or Cuban reader sees this, please know that I am joking.  I do not really think the U.S. should annex anything.  No offense to the good people of those Canadian provinces, either, but they’re pretty desolate. . . .)
  • And worse — we wouldn’t have as many state senators.  Oh, wait — that would be a good thing.

Oh, bother.  I guess we can’t do this kind of thing.  Too many vested interests are at stake.

~ ~ ~

I’ve also been thinking about some of our Christian delineations.  Not being much of a churchman, and not caring overmuch about denominational (or nondenominational) politics, I figure we should combine the Presbyterian Church of America and the United Presbyterian Church.  And the Wesleyan and Free Methodist groups.  And the Mennonite Brethren and the Mennonite Church USA.  And the AME and AMEZ and black UMC groups.  And the Church of Christ and the Christian Church.  Somehow, I don’t think it would work to merge all the Church of God denominations — not even the two largest, which differ in some major arenas.  But c’mon . . . let’s at least combine at least the Southern Baptists and the Regular Baptists and the American Baptists.

Wouldn’t the combos make sense?

Oh, bother.  I guess we can’t do this kind of thing.  Too many vested interests are at stake.

Voices: sectarianism within us

In recent posts on this site, I’ve echoed several “voices” that I thought should be heard.  I, and some of you, have heard the voices of

And in this “voices” post, I suggested implicitly that the term “Christian” is used variously and inaccurately.  I then specifically invited answers to a query about the use of the word “Christian.”  Only one reader bit (thanks, John), but presumably, more of you at least thought about  it.  “Christian” is a term that deserves thought.

Among the worthwhile slogans of the Campbell-Stone American Restoration Movement is this one:  “call Bible things by Bible names.”  We might infer from that suggestion that, since the Bible doesn’t speak of trash cans or trains or traffic, terminology in those spheres may be relatively unimportant.  However, the Bible does speak of pastors and parables, of sin and salvation, of Christ and Christians — so we ought to speak biblically accurately of such things.

And so I come to the question again:  what of the word-concept “Christian”?  What does it commonly mean?  Biblically, what does it mean?  And therefore, how should we use the word?

Put another way, how may we rightly define the term “Christian”?

About 15 years ago, my own voice was heard from a pulpit, of all places.  (I may soon have the opportunity to “preach” formally again, but it will be more exegesis than sermon at this point in my life, and this is all beside the point.)  In that fateful sermon, which ended up upsetting some folks sincerely and others vicariously or by projection, I called our small-to-medium-sized Church of Christ — which was fairly moderate and fairly healthy — to examine ourselves.  I believed then, and still believe, that sectarianism exists within us.

Now, to those peering in from outside the provincial history of my movement, this may not appear to be a particularly insightful or incisive observation.   “What’s the big deal?” some might ask.  But most congregations of our stripe have for long years been weaned on the notion of being just Christians and nondenominational, nonsectarian.  Many are (or would be, if the eye-wool were peeled back) horrified by the realization that we are now, by most estimations, a sect.  By way of defining terms:

  • A movement is the evidence of collective energy for a cause.
  • A denomination is a named entity that grows out of a movement.
  • A sect is alternately thought of a) as a delineated segment from a movement, or b) as a denomination crystallized.  The use of the term “sect” instead of “denomination” is sometimes intended to sound more harsh, implying divisiveness and not mere division.
  • A cult would be a sect that engages in brainwashing and/or illegal activities, usually based on one or more charismatic personalities, and marked by either excessive, strongly counter-cultural behaviors.

The above definitions are my own, formulated within 4-5 minutes.  They are not put forward as exhaustive or as even commonly accepted, but they can serve as working definitions for the purpose of this blogpost.

In naming the sectarianism within us in the Church of Christ in my sermon years ago, it was my purpose to call out those who would render blind whole groups of people to the self-righteous obstinacy of the decades — and then, to spur us toward serious thought about what it is to be a “Christian.”  What does the term really mean, and how did/does it function as a label?

I was taught on many occasions that “Christian” means “like Christ.”  But if we push that definition too far, those in a sectarian denomination may begin to believe they are the most like Christ, setting themselves up as “the only Christians” instead of merely being “Christ-followers only”.  One illustration I employed in moving toward a variant definition of “Christian” was the label “Bostonian”:  a Bostonian is not necessarily like Boston, but she is of Boston, belonging to Boston.

If we can re-envision ourselves as being of Christ, based on the scriptures’ idea of a) coming into, b) remaining in, and c) growing in that state, well, I think we could move back from being a sect or denomination to a movement.

Wesley’s primitivist elucidation

Today, another quotation from E.H. Broadbent (The Pilgrim Church, p. 294):

[John] Wesley’s determined adherence to the Established Church prevented him from seeing those principles which are taught in Scripture regarding the churches of God, and he never attempted to follow up his Gospel preaching by forming churches, on the New Testament pattern, of whose who believed.  Yet in 1746 he wrote, “On the road I read over Lord King’s account of the Primitive Church.  In spite of the vehement prejudice of my education, I was ready to believe … that originally every Christian congregation was a church independent of all others!”

Dear John, why, if you were indeed ready to believe, did you not continue along the path of restoration?  What caused you to retain all the peripheral “stuff” of Christianity?

A piercing voice is heard, through the millennia, above Wesley’s sincere, yet ultimately short-falling, question:  why, oh why, do we continue to depend on man-made church structures?  Why do we hold so tenaciously to a-biblical and even un-biblical hierarchies?  It doesn’t matter whether it’s the Anglican Church within which Wesley was working, or the United Methodist Church that he spawned, or the Roman Catholic institution, or the Church of Christ, or “River of Grace Ministries,” a stereotypical nondenominational church where Joe Jones, “founding pastor,” calls the shots.  They are all man-made structures.

It’s been said that

  1. When the early church “moved” to Greece, it became a philosophy.
  2. When it moved to Rome, it became an institution.
  3. When it moved to Europe, it became a culture.
  4. When it moved to America, it became a business.

However, this is not the end of the story.  God, help us.  Move us backward in principle as we move forward in time.

Unity and restoration

Unity and restoration were both key goals of the American Restoration Movement, and of many of the more serious Christian thinkers and practicers throughout history.  These goals are often found in opposition to one another.  In other words, if one is asserted, the other suffers.

James O'Kelly

For example, James O’Kelly led a division among American Methodists in 1793, apparently largely in opposition to the religious tyranny of the circuit-riding “bishop” Francis J. Asbury.

Francis J. Asbury

Inasmuch as O’Kelly was presumably restoring, disunity resulted.  If he had opted to accede, to resign himself to something not purely biblical, restoratory goals would have suffered.

A slogan of old was “Let Christian unity be our polar star.”  Such a galactic berth for unity may be a mite too high, in the grand scheme, but certainly the Lord’s Prayer (John 17) calls for unity with passion and conviction, and we should, too.

As I bring this series to a close, I would like to reiterate what Paul said to the Christians in Corinth (a loose paraphrase of some of 1 Cor. 1:11-17):

  • separate, named groupings within a Christian body are divisive
  • even Jesus’ name may be used to divide, and divisions among Christians are not good

By extension, the denominational situation in the world today is decidedly not a good thing.  Sectarianism and denominationalism are not to be accepted without question as the approved, natural outgrowth of the spread of the gospel and of human nature; rather, these denominations are to be worked in and worked through, to the end that all sectarian names, ideologies, and creeds should be abolished, giving way to the pure messages of the scriptures, and unity based on those messages.  I wish the words of the Last Will and Testament of the Springfield Presbytery were soulfully, intentionally applied to every denomination:

We will, that this body die, be dissolved,
and sink into union with the Body of Christ at large;
for there is but one body, and one Spirit, even as we are called in one hope of our calling.

May restoration continue to occur, and may unity grow alongside it.  May unity be found in scriptural truth and in the truth of Jesus the Living Word.

Models for unity

Continuing from the past few days, I’ll add a few more points and will soon leave this matter of Christian unity.

Unity based on single doctrinal points (or families of related points) may be difficult to achieve, if not completely fallacious.  Water unity isn’t even attainable within the circles of the Baptist denomination(s) or the Church of  Christ, for instance.¹  Calvinistic unity, too, is elusive, as may be observed in a casual glance at the Presbyterian Church (either of them), the Christian Reformed Church, and the Lutheran Church (either of them).

Head unity is based on reasoned understandings and was stressed by Alexander Campbell and Disciples of Christ in the 19C,² but it depends on conformity of human brain activity and is not likely to occur.  Still, it probably does us good to narrow the sense of core Christian doctrine down to the facts upon which more/most of us may unite.  Many of us can agree on such facts as Jesus’ birth to the virgin Mary, His atoning, sacrificial death, His miraculous resurrection, etc.  Opinions about the facts are other matters altogether.  Never can two thinking Christians unite on every peripheral opinion, induction, or deduction about a biblical fact, but the facts themselves deserve much consideration in this arena.

False unity results when a charismatic leader describes unity and asserts it where it does not exist.  Gregarious pastor-types may seek popularity by means of downplaying differences and making things appear more unified than they are.  Glistening or syrupy sermons do not create unity.

Leroy Garrett highlights what Barton Stone called fire unity–the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Inasmuch as this means the unity given by the Spirit that we are merely to maintain (Eph. 4), it warrants attention.  It’s not a goal so much as it is a reality:   we don’t need to achieve it; it’s already achieved.  But if “fire unity” means some supra-natural manifestation of the Holy Spirit–or even vaguely refers to something like “the Pentecostal fire of Christ’s presence”–as a marker of unity, it’s clearly not very unifying and is bound to fail.

Sunday-only unity can be more difficult for some, and less difficult for others.  Whether it works depends, in part, on one’s ecclesiology in terms of the assembly–how prominently corporate Sunday activities figure into the scheme or worldview.

  • If one thinks that what is done on Sundays is central and non-negotiable, agreement on those things is necessary for peace, as it were.  By conscience, some insist on conformity in all things observable during the Christian assembly.³  This scenario may be difficult to imagine in reality (or it may almost be assumed by those who by personality or conviction are bandwagon believers), but I have found it to exist commonly in the churches of the ARM.  It may be experienced rather shallowly in suburban and urban areas, but it is experienced nonetheless, and a measure of conformist peace may be reassuring.  On the other hand, this kind of unity is at once elusive and illusive.  A false “blueprint” conception of the New Covenant writings may be at the foundation.  The scriptures were not written to provide a precise pattern for church behaviors, although they do provide many guiding principles — and certain specifics — for all aspects of living.
  • If one thinks more relationally, i.e., how I believe in relation to the sister or brother sitting in front of me or beside me, then corporate activities take a back seat.  Large-scale aspects may be agreed on, or not, and the relationships will continue to be primary.  As the ultra-rightist, Reaganite, Commie-hating character Alex Keaton (Michael J. Fox, Family Ties) once articulated it when considering a Russian chess opponent, “It’s easier to hate a country than a person.”  Stated in the positive, it’s also easier to love and accept a sincere, individual believer, than an entire, off-base denomination or a large-scale corporate practice not based in scripture.

Perhaps a blend of extroversion and introversion is in order here:  thinking soberly and biblically about what is done when Christians gather together, yes, but also emphasizing individual relationships and the discipleship of individual souls alongside the large-scale stuff.

One more installment, tomorrow:  Unity and Restoration–a plea

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¹ I understand that a Baptist forbear, John Smyth, immersed himself.  If he did that for the sake of church membership, as many Baptists today call for it, I’d be shocked.

² The Barton W. Stone “side” of the ARM does not seem to have emphasized rationalism as much as the Campbell side.

³ Further in the Sunday-unity model, there may be implications for discussions in lobbies and in Bible classes:  agreement on a list of items is either assumed or inflicted.  Dissent is either absent or kept under wraps.

Names (2) — nondenominationalism everywhere?

I once delivered a full-length sermon on the topic “the denominationalism within us”—to the horror of several siblings who had some wool shreds near their chins and noses (the wool’s having been pulled down from above).  Born ‘n bred as nondenominational Christians, they were more than offended to be accused of being denominational.

Now, most church groups don’t fear denominationalism at all and in fact find the denomination “nest” quite homey.  Leaving alone the issue of that false comfort for now, I merely want to say that the Church of Christ has for decades employed a set of terminologies that discourage honesty about structure and identity.  Disingenuously, it has in some circles used a lower-case “c” on “church,” as if to say, “we’re not a denomination,” all the while using the oddly fashioned term “church of Christ” in precisely the same way as the Methodists use the initials “UMC,” Baptists use the term “Baptist,” and Catholics use the pretentious label “The Church.”

Yes, Virginia, there is denominationalism within the Church of Christ.  There is no doubt about this.  Despite not having an earthly headquarters (a plus in many respects), any real system of ordination (a plus in most respects), a general conference (a plus in all respects), etc., “we” are a Yellow-pages-identifiable religious group that has a name.  That makes us a denomination, period.

Leroy Garrett tells of the early concerns with naming in the Restoration Movement:

Once the Stone and Campbell movements united and became one church, a story I shall be relating, they settled the name issue by calling themselves by both names, Christians and Disciples, and their congregations were variously known as Disciples of Christ, Christian Churches, and Churches of Christ. It was unusual — a church with three names! The cruel irony is that once this unity movement betrayed its own heritage and divided into three churches, a sad story that I will also relate, each of the churches ended up wearing one of the three names, and for the most part only that name.

I still heartily reject “Methodist,” “Catholic,” “Baptist,” “Lutheran,” etc., as having anything to do with anything eternally significant (although they are in some contexts valid, helpful descriptors).  In the last case:  I find it patently irreverent to name with a human’s name a group that purports to claim allegiance to Jesus as Messiah, so “Lutheran” and “Wesleyan” and “Swedenborgian” are right out.  The epithet “Methodist” speaks of a way of Christian living, and as many believe to have been the case with the first use of the term “Christian,” it was originally derogatory.  “Baptist” is much more biblically based but also belies a sectarian, human philosophy or set of practices.  “Catholic” is, etymologically speaking, less provincial than all the rest in this paragraph, but that label, of course, carries with it centuries of apostasy, strongly suggests the Roman hierarchy, and gathers with it whole nationalities, ethnicities, perversities of both living and doctrine, not to mention weird habits like Bingo nights.  A trunk full of junk like this represents major baggage that no one should carry.  Better never to use the common adjective “catholic” without clearly explaining it as meaning “universal.”

I perpetually find myself with mouth agape when I see evidence that human allegiance can still be paid to these human labels, or to any like them.  Although denominational loyalties seem far weaker than they were years ago, they are still with us.  People consider themselves “Methodists” and “Episcopals” and “Assembly of God” more than “Christians.”  Not being one for mob mentalities, I don’t get it.

But again:  what is it to be Christian?  I grew up thinking it meant “Christ-like.”  I don’t think that’s as helpful a definition anymore, though.  In the sermon referred to above, I defined “Christian” as I would define “Bostonian”:  the suffix “-ian” designates one who is of something, possessed by something, belongs to something.  A Bostonian is of Boston and in some sense belongs to Boston.  A Christian, likewise, is of Christ, possessed by Christ.

The definition of “Christian” is infinitely more important than affiliation with any denominated subgroup within Christendom.

Next:  ecumenism

Names (1) — denominating

A few weeks ago, three student ensembles under my direction presented a chamber music program at Baker Memorial Church in East Aurora, NY .  This was a most enjoyable experience in terms of the hosting, the music, and my students.  All this added up to pure delight.

But I’m caused to think about church names and am not so delighted anymore.  The Grace Dean Memorial Concert Series, held throughout the year at this United Methodist Church facility, is presumably aptly named for its original benefactor, but the naming of a church (or church building—I’m really not sure which, because there’s no distinguishing with the UMC and many other church groups) with some human moniker is, in my opinion, inappropriate.  In fact, I continue to believe that most church names are to some extent inappropriate—when they take a human, or a human aspect, as their jumping-off point rather than simply labeling themselves, and simply being, Christian.

What is it to be “Christian”?  And what is it to be a “Christian” church or a “Christian” college?  Will the adjectival use of a significant noun be appropriate?  Will it be enough?

Hear Leroy Garrett on the naming of the American Restoration Movement church groups:

Our name had to be biblical.  Alexander Campbell preferred Disciples, while Barton Stone insisted on Christians, believing it to be the divinely-appointed name, based on Acts11:26, “the disciples were first called Christians at Antioch.”  It was one of their disagreements. Campbell believed Christian was a name used in derision by outsiders, noting that in Scripture the disciples never called themselves by that name, not even Luke, the author of Acts, after saying that the disciples were first called Christians at Antioch.  He went right on calling them disciples, and never Christians.  Hardly a divinely-appointed name, Campbell insisted, but he was nonetheless honored to be called a Christian, even if at first used in derision.

I grew up sensing an almost reverent conception of the term “Christian” and for a long time believed that that word was the only apt label for me, for us, for anyone serious about God.  I have since added “believer” and “disciple” and, in my more quirky moments, “Jesus person” and maybe a few more.  I still use the term “Christian” most often.  Perhaps this is the term that describes status, while “believer” describes personal faith, and “disciple” describes living patterns?

What happens in life is more important, but names are important, too.

Next:  denominationalism within a “nondenomination”

Ekklesia values 5a (nondenominational, nonsectarian)

To return to the original church “value”: my church is not sectarian and is not part of a denomination or franchise. I will often criticize denominational trappings, but I do not condemn the people within the denominations simply for being named. What I oppose on a larger scale is divisive sectarianism, and for myself, I would much prefer to be part of a group that didn’t even come close to using a title—ANY title—even the name or title of Jesus Christ—divisively.

Further, on the matter of affiliation . . . for a local congregation to be affiliated with a denomination is for me problematic–not absolutely necessarily so, but so frequently so that I am compelled to comment. The affiliation with a broader network can so readily compromise commitment to biblical truth, to authenticity of local mission, and to personal conviction that it must be challenged. Those who are naturally phlegmatic and/or submissive may be able to sit in the pews passively, disagreeing but not caring to make a fuss. Those of us with other temperaments and biblically based convictions cannot always sit idly by when affiliation leads to compromise. I care so much less about what the organization says than about what the Bible says, and, secondarily, what my conscience leads me to. My church, in the ideal, will not be affiliated to the degree that scruples and biblically based consciences will be threatened. My church will not be sectarian.

However, my ideal church will not intentionally wear blinders. It will be aware of its own set of backgrounds, seeking to be informed about the impact of various tenets and practices of the past on the present. And my church will—because I’m involved with it, if for no other reason, be particularly informed by the strengths and weaknesses, ideals and objectives of the American Restoration movement led by, among others, Alexander Campbell and Barton Stone.

I close with words of David Lipscomb (courtesy of Bobby Valentine’s Stoned-Campbell Disciple blog), first on fellowship and withdrawal of it for doctrinal reasons:

So long as a man really desires to do right, to serve the Lord, to obey His commands, we cannot withdraw from him. We are willing to accept him as a brother, no matter how ignorant he may be, or how far short of the perfect standard his life may fall from his ignorance…We will maintain the truth, press the truth upon him, compromise not one word or iota of that truth, yet forbear with the ignorance, the weakness of our brother who is anxious, but not yet able to see the truth …Why should I not, when I fall so far short of perfect knowledge myself? How do I know that the line beyond which ignorance damns, is behind me, not before me? If I have no forbearance with his ignorance, how can I expect God to forbear with mine? …So long then as a man exhibits a teachable disposition, is willing to hear, to learn and obey the truth of God, I care not how far he may be, how ignorant he is, I am willing to recognize him as a brother. (David Lipscomb, Gospel Advocate, April 22, 1875).

Again from Lipscomb, on the difference between seeking truth and being a party-spirit Christian or sectarian:

A sectarian is one who defends everything his party holds or that will help his party, and opposes all that his party opposes. This partisan takes it for granted that everything his party holds is right, and everything the other party holds to be wrong and is to be opposed. Hence the party line defines his faith and teaching. He sees no good in the other party. He sees no wrong in his own party . . . A truth lover and seeker always looks into whatever party he comes in contact with, and will first look to see what truth the party holds … The love of truth is a spirit of kindness and love toward all, even to the holder of error. He loves the holder of truth because he receives truth and strength from him, (David Lipscomb, “A Sectarian and a Truth Seeker,” Gospel Advocate. June 27, 1907, p. 409.)

Next (sometime this week): leadership and hierarchy