Throughout
history, in relating themselves to the world, the two options which
Christians have most often pursued were to vigorously strive to control
the world or to disdainfully withdraw from it. Some have dreamed that
they would make their society "Christian," necessarily defined in
cultural and nationalistic terms, and have passed laws, mounted reforms,
and, ironically, fought wars, in the name of Christ. At the other end of
the spectrum have been the ascetics who, seeing the folly of coercing
sinners into behaving like saints, have denounced the sinful world and
withdrawn into isolation — hermits, monks, Amish, and the like.
However much these two models seem consistent to us, they are not what
Jesus had in mind. "I have given them thy word; and the world hath hated
them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.
I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou
shouldest keep them from the evil. They are not of the world, even as I
am not of the world. Sanctify them through thy truth; thy word is truth.
As thou hast sent me into the world, even so I have also sent them into
the world." (John
17:14-18.) There is the dilemma — in it but not of it. The
Christian does not belong here, even as Jesus did not belong here, but
he has a work to do in the midst of the persistent filth and
degradation. We have work to do. But that work is not the redemption of
the world — a world which is beyond redemption and can only hate those
who rise above sin. The work is the eternal salvation of the honest and
good souls.
Perhaps when compared with the sacred literature of other religions, the
most remarkable feature of the New Testament, is its almost total
disregard of the society of its day. This of course, is quite a contrast
to the Old Testament where God's kingdom, for prophetic reasons, was
civil as well as religious. But one could read the New Testament through
and go away knowing almost nothing of the society in which it was
written. How was the government structured? What were the laws of
inheritance, labor, family relations, foreign relations? Clearly, Jesus
did not much care. It is true that the New Testament occasionally
recognizes the fact that the powerful oppress the weak (James
2:6-7), but it offers no general solutions. Just a certain note
of resignation. No revolutions were launched. It is just as if these
things really did not matter. And that is exactly the case.
Spiritual work or social reform?
Jesus explained to Pilate that his kingdom was not of this world, thus
his servants would not fight.
(John 18:36)
His kingdom was spiritual and his followers would be occupied with
spiritual work. Jesus had come to seek and save the lost. He never
envisioned that society would become just — in fact, he clearly stated
that most people would reject the path of righteousness which he taught.
Individual regeneration makes people better, but the reformer who
imagines that the world will become a moral utopia craves a millennium
which the scriptures do not promise. Our escape from evil will come only
with our escape from this wicked world.
One of the persistent marks of apostate religion is a shift in emphasis
from the spiritual to the work of social reform This change of emphasis
marks a people whose spiritual purpose has become blunted. Salvation,
forgiveness, and heaven become inadequate ends, and "other-worldly"
religion is supplanted by "this-worldly" ethical and moral reform. When
a man comes to spend most of his time worrying about the predicament of
man in this world, he has lost view of the consummate importance of the
next world. Physical suffering or death are of little consequence when
compared with eternal matters. In the honor roll of those who died in
faith (Hebrews, chapter eleven), suffering and injustice appear as
irrelevant tragedies in this transient life, overshadowed by the truly
significant triumph of those who live by faith to the saving of their
souls.
So, it is easy to get things out of perspective. Men infatuated with
this world come to center their religion on the problems of this world
rather than the salvation of souls. Modern liberal Protestantism is a
religion that has lost its spiritual zest and has become little more
than soft-headed reformism. But conservatives can also become
"this-worldly" in their religion, in the manner of Billy James Hargis
and Carl McIntyre. The solution that one has to the world's problems is
not so much the point as the truth that those who seek to save the
nations are not likely to be much interested in saving people. Jesus and
his disciples ignored Rome to seek and save those who were lost.
Growing schism in Churches of Christ
The changes in Churches of Christ in the years after World War II
reflect a growing schism along these lines. The division over the use of
the churches' funds to support orphan homes, other benevolent
institutions, and for various social and recreational purposes, while
raising important scriptural issues, clearly reflected a shifting
balance in the minds of many about the relative importance of this world
and the next. While the New Testament teaches that all Christians will
react humanely to the world around them
(Gal. 6:10),
and the local churches felt a common responsibility for the lives of
other saints, one soon reaches the end of the New Testament's social
instructions. The extension of the church's role to that of a generous
benevolent society and a service institution to provide recreational and
social fellowship is both unscriptural and a clear perversion of the
otherworldly emphasis one finds in the New Testament. The apostolic
churches were a spiritual fellowship for the purpose of evangelization,
edification, and worship. When one changes that scheme he almost surely
has come to underestimate the importance of spiritual things, and to
think more highly than he ought to of the importance of this world.
In short what ultimately becomes the social gospel in liberal churches —
the message that Jesus came to bring social justice to this world —
begins slowly and with good intentions. Innocent, and even scriptural,
as the support of benevolent institutions seemed to many
well-intentioned members of Churches of Christ, the pattern of thinking
that emphasizes the solution of social ills starts one down a long road
that has no end. If Christianity calls us to the solution of the world's
social problems, as millions in the past have conceived it to do, one
must push on beyond the poor and orphaned to cleanse the world of every
social evil. And it is a mission that Jesus failed to attend to, as did
Paul and all the other divinely guided men in apostolic days. And it is
a mission which inevitably leads us away from the work which the New
Testament calls us to do — preaching the gospel to a lost world.
Keep things in perspective!
All of this does not mean that a Christian is socially calloused, nor
does it mean that one is forbidden to participate in the political order
in which he lives. Christians live lives of compassion, and are ready to
help those in need always as they have ability and opportunity. A
Christian has a right to exercise any civil exercise that the government
grants to him which does not cause him to violate the principles of
Christian conduct. One may pay taxes
(Matt. 22:17-21),
appeal to the courts (Acts 25:8-12), and, I believe, hold a civil office
(Phil. 4:22; Acts
19:12) without undermining his Christian commitment. And
certainly has a right, and an obligation, to try to make the society in
which he lives as peaceful and hospitable as possible, using the means
that the government grants to him as a citizen.
The point is: keep it in perspective. A runaway sentimentality and
distortion of New Testament social teachings has led many to involve
local churches in unscriptural ends ranging from the building of orphan
homes to the sponsoring of black guerillas in Rhodesia. And a runaway
zeal for a politically moral society has led some to forget how little
difference the shape of this world makes.
We need always to keep our priorities in order. On the rare occasions
when I begin to fret and take this world seriously, I still find it
useful to ask the question: "Would Jesus have really cared?" I can let
the world go, and get back to the business of seeing my fellow-man as
one who is spiritually lost and who needs the salvation which Jesus came
to give him.