Things We Never Think To Question: Yesterday, after spending several hours with our grandchildren on Father’s Day, we arrived home to find a rather large packet of tracts and assorted literature in our mailbox from a local Fundamentalist Baptist church, an encounter with which I have mentioned before on this blog. Apparently this mailing was sent throughout our community, as it was addressed to “resident” rather than to any particular individual. As far as I know, this congregation is the only church in our town that actively engages in what they believe to be evangelism. They are always present at local parades, community events, and public gatherings, handing out literature and speaking with people about Christ.
In many ways, they represent a type of Christianity that is becoming increasingly rare. They strongly promote the King James Version, the young ladies dress modestly, the young men are respectful and clean-cut, and family life is clearly valued. Like many of us, they appear to be operating within a theological framework they inherited rather than consciously chose. Certain conclusions are accepted, supporting texts are gathered around them, and over time the entire system simply becomes “Christianity.” The question that often comes to my mind is whether many have ever been given reason to step outside that framework and examine it from another perspective.
As I read through the material, I found myself wondering whether I should reach out to the pastor once again. After all, there must have been at least five dollars’ worth of literature in the packet, and though our community is relatively small, that represents a considerable amount of effort and expense when multiplied across an entire town. Beyond that, these are people who genuinely seem to care. They are passionate about their faith and willing to devote time, energy, and resources to sharing what they believe with others.
Part of me thought there was little point. Most of us spend years within a particular theological framework, and it is no small thing to step outside of it and reconsider assumptions that may have shaped the way we read Scripture for decades. Besides, I have no desire to argue with people, nor do I imagine that I possess some unique insight that others have somehow missed. Yet another part of me kept returning to a different thought. If Christ is truly the sinner’s only hope before God, if He really is all our righteousness, then how can questions concerning the gospel not matter?
The older I get, however, the less interested I am in correcting people and the more interested I am in understanding them. Why do they believe what they believe? Have they ever heard these things presented differently? Have they ever been encouraged to examine assumptions that may have accompanied them for years? These were some of the thoughts running through my mind as I looked through the packet. After all, it is no small thing to reconsider beliefs that have shaped the way we view Scripture for most of our lives.
And think about it, most of us inherit a theological framework long before we are capable of evaluating it. We are taught certain things, we learn to read Scripture through those assumptions, and before long those assumptions become so familiar that we scarcely recognize them as assumptions at all. We gather supporting texts, repeat familiar phrases, and gradually come to view the entire system as though it were simply self-evident Christianity. The difficulty is that ideas which have surrounded us for decades can become nearly invisible, especially when they are reinforced by people we love, respect, and trust.
But before we start talking about their assumptions, perhaps we should remember our own. If I have learned anything over the years, it is that none of us stand outside this danger. We all bring assumptions to the Scriptures. We all have blind spots. We all see through a glass darkly. Perhaps the first question is not whether others have overlooked something, but whether we have. The uncomfortable reality is that inherited ideas are often much easier to recognize in someone else’s theology than in our own.
Back to the packet: Much of it reminded me of the sort of Christianity I first encountered over 40 years ago. In fact, there was a time when I probably would have agreed with much of what I was reading. That realization has a way of tempering one’s criticism. It is easier to dismiss people when we forget that we, too, once viewed many things through a particular framework, and that any clearer view we may have today is owing entirely to the mercy of God.
Looking back, there was a time when I would have viewed a situation like this primarily through the lens of theological correction. If I encountered ideas that seemed to place man’s will, man’s decision, or man’s contribution alongside the finished work of Christ, I felt obligated to respond. Not because I enjoyed controversy, but because I sincerely believed that the gospel was too important to treat casually. Questions concerning Christ’s work and the sinner’s hope before God were never small matters to me. Many who have traveled similar theological roads will recognize that impulse. Age has not made me less concerned about truth, but it has made me more aware that if the Lord has shown me anything of Christ, it was not because I was wiser than my neighbor. Whatever understanding I possess today has come despite me, not because of me.
The more I thought about these things, the more I found myself returning to a familiar question: How should we engage people with whom we strongly disagree, especially when those disagreements concern the gospel itself? I suppose that is where my struggle lies. On the one hand, I find myself profoundly at odds with much of the theology being promoted. The message is heavily influenced by the language of free will, decisionism, and what I would regard as a very man-centered understanding of salvation. On the other hand, I recognize that these are not enemies. They are people. Many of them have likely never known anything else. This is the Christianity they inherited. This is the language they learned. This is the framework through which they have been taught to understand the gospel.
If salvation truly belongs to the Lord, if spiritual understanding is the gift of God, and if Christ Himself is the great Teacher of His people, then harshness and arrogance become difficult to justify. We are not fundamentally different from those with whom we disagree. With those thoughts in mind, I wrote the following:
Dear Pastor, I received the packet of tracts from Liberty Baptist Church in the mail today and spent some time looking through them. It brought to mind your visit to our home a couple of years ago when you stopped by with a young man from your church. You may not remember the conversation, but I asked him what his hope of salvation was. His answer has stayed with me ever since. He told me that Christ was his righteousness and that Christ died for his sins. I remember being deeply encouraged by that confession because it directed my attention entirely to the Savior.
Please do not take this letter as criticism or disrespect. I certainly do not write as someone who thinks he has all the answers. I simply find myself puzzled by what often appears to be a great contrast between the Christ-centered confession I heard that day and some of the emphasis I find in the literature.
In many ways, we are not all that different. My wife and I raised six children, and for many years I have appreciated many of the same things your church appears to value: family, the Scriptures, and a serious concern for spiritual matters. Yet when it comes to the gospel itself, we seem to see some things very differently. That has remained a question in my mind because our common desire, I trust, is to honor Christ. I appreciate your time and would be glad to hear from you if you ever wish to correspond. Marc