Page 5717 – Christianity Today (2024)

Carter’S Background

The Man From Plains: The Mind and Spirit of Jimmy Carter, by David Kucharsky (Harper & Row, 1976, 150 pp., $4.95), is reviewed by Wesley Pippert, principal United Press International correspondent covering Jimmy Carter, Washington, D.C.

This is more a book about the American religious mood and milieu out of which Jimmy Carter emerged than it is a biography of him. And that is its great value. Of the seven or more books about the Democratic presidential nominee, most are mini-biographies or campaign puffery, or both. Only Kucharsky’s attempts to put Carter in context.

Kucharsky provides short essays on the Southern Baptists, of which Carter is a member; fundamentalism and evangelicalism, with which Southern Baptists are identified; the social gospel; and neo-orthodoxy and Reinhold Niebuhr, whose statement, “the sad duty of politics is to establish justice in a sinful world,” Carter frequently quotes.

Kucharsky’s credentials for speaking authoritatively on these things can be summed up simply: he is senior editor of CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

In many ways, The Man From Plains can be far more useful to the non-Christian who has little knowledge about such matters as being “born again” and who may tend to think of fundamentalism in terms of “holy rollers” and hellfire and brimstone. I know from personal experience of the attempts of many members of the national media to write with insight about Carter’s religion; the result is usually distortion, a matter of the blind leading the blind.

My own guess is that the need to understand Carter lies in three areas:

1. His relationship with Christ.

2. His being a product of the rural South. He comes from a “black belt” county that was a hotbed of resistance to the civil-rights movement. Martin Luther King, Jr., was jailed at Albany and Americus, Georgia, the nearest cities to Plains.

3. His relationship with blacks. With no other group does he establish a better rapport.

Kucharsky paid too little attention to the last two. He came to grips with the first, but many questions still remain to be answered before we have an adequate insight into this man who came from almost nowhere to the brink (at least) of the presidency. Why is Carter different from his many neighbors and fellow Southern Baptists? Why did he vote for integrating the Plains Baptist Church years ago when other “born again” people in the church did not? Why is he so politically active toward, as he puts it, “the poor, black, those who speak a foreign language and are not well educated, who are inarticulate, who are timid,” while many evangelicals are not? Why are so many evangelicals suspicious of him? What were the processes by which Carter integrated his personal trust in God and his political tactics? Theologically, his statements about abortion (personally opposed, but not favoring a constitutional ban) don’t baffle me nearly as much as his continual affirmation that the American people are good.

Kucharsky has begun a good foundation in The Man From Plains. But I hope that he and others keep digging, for there is much to be learned.

Constructive Critique Of Schaeffer

Francis Schaeffer’s Apologetics: A Critique, by Thomas V. Morris (Moody, 1976, 128 pp., $2.50 pb), is reviewed by Terry Pence, doctoral student in philosophy, Purdue University, West Lafayette, Indiana.

Some evangelicals have been reluctant to criticize Francis Schaeffer for fear it might diminish his overwhelmingly good influence in weaning evangelicals away from anti-intellectualism. Morris points out weaknesses in Schaeffer’s arguments that probably many have noticed, but he does so in such a way as to enhance one’s appreciation of the man and his thought.

In part one, he explicates Schaeffer’s defense of the Christian faith by giving his argument and strategy a lucid structure. Schaeffer’s approach is to challenge non-Christian presuppositions by first calling attention to various epistemological, metaphysical, and moral features of the universe or human life and then attempting to show that Christian presuppositions offer the most satisfying explanations of these features. Non-Christian presuppositions are argued to be inadequate because they fail to account for such things as personality, rationality, and morality; they either deny these things, which is a practical impossibility in some cases, or hold them inconsistently.

As Morris fills out these arguments, he develops three main complaints about Schaeffer’s apologetics. The first is lack of clarity. Schaeffer leaves some of his key concepts undefined or inadequately discussed, including “presupposition,” “reason,” “rational,” and “rationality.” There is a similar vagueness at times in the problems he raises and the solutions he recommends. This is particularly true of “the problem of unity and diversity” and his solution, the concept of the Trinity. It is to Morris’s credit, however, that he not only notices these weaknesses but often provides a strengthening clarification.

The second complaint is more serious. It is clear from Schaeffer’s language that he means to show that adopting Christian presuppositions is necessary or “the only answer.” Morris convincingly argues, however, that Schaeffer’s arguments show only that Christian presuppositions are possible or probable answers. The reason why they lack the necessity Schaeffer claims for them is that either additional non-Christian positions or sophisticated versions of considered positions can evade Schaeffer’s criticisms. Additional arguments would be required to rule them out. Schaeffer overstates the power of his arguments, says Morris. This is why Morris recasts what seem to be transcendental arguments into an “argument from design.” Although this may depart from Schaeffer’s intentions, it is more in accord with what his arguments actually accomplish.

The third critical theme deals with Schaeffer’s model of human thought. Morris argues that Schaeffer has a mechanical, depersonalized model of human thought in which “the reader is almost led to imagine men formulating syllogisms and proof lines over lunch.” What this model overlooks is the non-rational, personal, and passionate elements involved in coming to believe. Morris devotes a good deal of space to correcting this model and commenting on the role of these other than purely rational factors in belief. He has many interesting observations about the psychology of belief, but construed as a criticism of Schaeffer what he says confuses apologetics with evangelism. Apologetic arguments have been known to bring persons to faith, but their primary function is to show that Christian belief is rationally acceptable. Syllogisms may or may not stir the soul, but soul-stirring is not their purpose.

Francis Schaeffer is an influential evangelical thinker. Until now we have not had a clear presentation of his apologetic method and a discussion of its limitations. Morris admirably supplies this in a way that is well worth reading.

Positive Thinking On Sex

Thank God For Sex, by Harry Hollis (Broadman, 1975, 167 pp., $4.95), Secrets of Eden: God and Human Sexuality, by Jim Reynolds (Sweet, 1975, 191 pp., $2.45 pb), Why Wait?, by Letha Scanzoni (Baker, 1975, 140 pp., $2.95 pb), and Sex For Christians, by Lewis Smedes (Eerdmans, 1976, 250 pp., $2.95 pb), are reviewed by C. E. Cerling, Jr., minister of education, Hopevale Memorial Baptist Church, Saginaw, Michigan.

Sex is fun, good clean fun, and it’s about time that Christians began to spread this good news. Sex is not just a bunch of “thou shalt not’s” but a positive “thou shalt enjoy thyself as God intended.”

For years the Church has spoken plainly on the Bible’s negative teaching about sex. While we were preaching the prohibitions, non-Christians were learning to enjoy and talk about the pleasures. And as often happens, we suddenly learned through the world something the Bible has always taught. God created people sexual beings, and a part of this sexuality is the joy of physical sex. Hollis states this; the others implicitly affirm it.

Another theme emerging in these books is that sex is far more than a physical union. It is an experience that involves the total person. Letha Scanzoni develops this theme as a primary basis for her argument that marriage is the place where sexual experience should occur. In a finely written book she attempts to take seriously the contemporary sexual scene. “Relationships are important,” say today’s young adults. “We agree that sex apart from a meaningful relationship is wrong. However, you should not condemn sex in a meaningful relationship in the same breath with casual sex by saying, ‘It’s all sin.’” Scanzoni agrees in part, but points out that only in the total commitment of marriage can the most meaningful relationships occur. Apart from marriage sex cannot be the full experience of two persons because they have not given themselves completely to each other. This book is excellent for the present generation of young people, even Christian young people, who are asking Scanzoni’s title question, “Why wait?” The attitude that sex is enjoyable also affects Lewis Smedes in Sex For Christians. If sex is truly fun, if it is a deeply satisfying experience, then we should recognize the deep need it fills in the lives of those who use it wrongly. A sexual ethic that is mere legalism and does not take into account the human factor is less than Christian. Smedes is deeply concerned about people. He adds a new dimension in evangelical sex ethics by including the vital element of compassion.

As Dwight Small’s Christian: Celebrate Your Sexuality (see review in the April 11, 1975, issue, page 18) set the standard for a Christian theology of sexuality, Lewis Smedes sets the standard for a Christian sexual ethic. Whether a person agrees or disagrees, Smedes cannot be dismissed. His chapter on creative fidelity is a clarion call for Christian morality. He shows not simply that extra-marital sex is wrong but, with Scanzoni, that sex can be fully experienced only in the intimacy and total freedom of the marriage relationship. He brings out again the theme that the sexual act is more than genital expression; it is the union of personalities.

In a more compact volume Jim Reynolds does much the same as Lewis Smedes. His book is a well-written summary of what is happening in sexual ethics.

Two problems loom large in the contemporary sexual discussion, masturbation and petting. Masturbation, until recently condemned, is now readily accepted—too readily, in my opinion—and petting is largely overlooked, though it is uppermost in the minds of many young people.

Masturbation is increasingly accepted by evangelical writers on sex. But the acceptance rarely deals with the problem of sexual fantasizing that is often a part of masturbation. Smedes, too, fails to discuss this problem when he states that masturbation is just a phase in sexual development. Maybe so, but are the fantasies that often accompany it sinful according to Matthew 5:27, 28 as a part of the “lustful look”?

Smedes produces an interesting though curious solution to the problem of petting. In the chapter “Responsible Petting,” his thesis is that all sexual activity, from the first touch to intercourse, should be an appropriate expression of the stage of the developing love relationship. Intercourse is reserved for marriage by God’s command. Everything else should be an expression of the level of the love relationship. Petting is permissible if the relationship has progressed to that point.

Isn’t it asking too much of sexually aroused young people sitting in a parked car to expect them to weigh the level of their love and the appropriate way of expressing it? I realize that Smedes is attempting to make an important distinction between sexual experience short of intercourse and intercourse, so that young people will not say, “Well, we’ve gone this far into sin, we might as well complete the job.” Nevertheless, the deceitfulness of the human heart seems an unrecognized part of the problem and a hindrance to his solution.

Human sexuality is a mystery, and all our analysis will not remove that mystery. It is a subject to be approached with reticence; nonetheless it must be approached. Everyone in the world is discussing the subject while the Church has spoken only its No. These books are ground-breakers, opening the way to discussion of a subject we have too long ignored.

Conflicting World-Views

The Universe Next Door, by James W. Sire (InterVarsity, 1976, 236 pp., $4.25 pb), is reviewed by Richard H. Bube, chairman, Department of Materials Science and Engineering, Stanford University, Stanford, California.

James Sire, the editor of InterVarsity Press and associate professor of English at Trinity College (Deerfield), performs a valuable service by gathering together the major presuppositions of eight views that affect people’s perception of themselves and the world. The views are: Christian theism, deism, naturalism, nihilism, atheistic existentialism, Christian existentialism, pantheistic monism, and “the new consciousness.” The book traces the disintegration from Christian theism down to nihilism, and then the abortive attempts to recover what had been lost.

In arguing that a consistent acceptance of naturalism inevitably leads to nihilism, Sire would do well to define terms a little more carefully. When he speaks of chance as “absolutely irrational, … causeless, purposeless, directionless,” he should make it clear that he is speaking of chance as a total world-view and not as a mode of scientific description. Events and processes that are described scientifically as “chance occurrences” can in the larger picture still be elements in design and purpose, provided that God is active in all reality. To condemn a scientific description on the grounds that it was a “chance” description and hence violated basic theological principles would be an unfortunate confusion of categories.

Again, when Sire says, “Naturalism holds that perception and knowledge are either identical with or a byproduct of the brain; they arise from the functioning of matter,” it would be interesting to know what the alternatives are. According to what we know about living human beings, perception and knowledge do arise from the functioning of matter—that unique functioning which is itself responsible for the fact that we are human beings.

On both of these points I expect that Sire would make the appropriate distinction if questioned, but his reader may not do so without some specific aid.

Another place calling for caution is the description, in the section on existentialism, of paradoxes as “sets of seemingly contradictory statements.” Here it is important to be clear on the difference between a paradox and a logical contradiction. A contradictory statement, one that affirms that both A and not-A are true, cannot be tolerated; but theological paradoxes are not of this type. The intrinsic biblical teaching of the sovereignty of God and the responsibility of man is a paradox, but hardly a contradiction.

Most notable among the traditional world-views that Sire does not discuss is humanism, which does not strictly fit into any of the categories treated. Another absentee that I wish he had included is Islam, in view of the widespread influence of this derivative of the Judeo-Christian position.

Sire makes a very significant contribution in setting forth the still-forming dimensions of what he calls “the new consciousness.” Here is a dominant world-view that is taking shape all around us among students, intellectuals, and even formerly conventional scientists. It is only a slight exaggeration to predict that one will not be able to understand major trends in modern thought without understanding this world-view. Sire properly sees it as “a Western version of Eastern mysticism in which the metaphysical emphasis of the East is replaced by an emphasis on epistemology.” It has roots in modern theories of physics as well as in the occult. Sire clarifies the situation by discussing in some detail the writings of Carlos Castaneda, a colorful and articulate exponent of this view.

This is a valuable book for everyone who attempts to integrate the beliefs and actions of human beings. Everyone has a world-view, whether he articulates it or not, and Christians should be aware of the mental framework of those to whom they witness.

Demonic Deluge

New books on demonology, the occult, and parapsychology are legion, and the variety of stances almost as numerous. The writers of all the following books accept the reality of a personal Satan and seek to be faithful to the biblical teachings. Demon Possession edited by John Warwick Montgomery (Bethany Fellowship, 384 pp., $4.95 pb) consists of a score of papers presented at a conference last year sponsored by the Christian Medical Association. Medical, historical, anthropological, and theological perspectives are represented. The Case Against Possessions and Exorcisms by Juan Cortés and Florence Gatti (Vantage, 271 pp., $7.50) does not deny the biblical accounts but argues that we have misinterpreted the word “demons,” confusing it with Satan’s angels, who exist but do not possess. Adolph Rodewyk disagrees with fellow Jesuit Cortés in Possessed by Satan, in which he presents the traditional Catholic teaching on possession and exorcism (Doubleday, 190 pp., $6.95). An Episcopal rector, Elijah White, calls for avoiding extremes in Exorcism as a Christian Ministry (Morehouse-Barlow, 80 pp., $2.50 pb). Morton Kelsey, a professor at Notre Dame, presents a positive case for parapsychology, with some warnings, in The Christian and the Supernatural (Augsburg, 168 pp., $3.95 pb). Clifford Wilson links—and warns against—demons, Eastern religions, Western occultism, astrology, and, with some qualifications, parapsychological phenomena in East Meets West in the Occult Explosion (Creation-Life, 176 pp., $1.95 pb). In view of its comprehensive scope, Wilson’s book could be of value for Christians to give those who are dabbling widely. Satan’s Angels by Ken Anderson (Nelson, 153 pp., $3.50 pb) is a much needed warning to Christians that Satan is more of a threat to them in subtle ways such as materialism and pride than in the more obvious occultic ways. Demons Yes, But Thank God For Good Angels by Lehman Strauss (Loizeaux, 121 pp., $1.96 pb) also warns against Satan’s influence in traditional guise. Two chiefly biblical expositions are Spiritual Warfare by Ray Stedman (Word, 145 pp., $4.95) and Satan Cast Out by Frederick Leahy (Banner of Truth, 181 pp., $2.50 pb). The former homiletically treats the Christian’s armor of Ephesians 6 while the latter gives a survey of biblical teaching as the basis for handling post-biblical manifestations down to the present. Gary North in None Dare Call It Witchcraft (Airlington, 253 pp., $8.95) insightfully surveys the resurgence of occultism and correlates it with humanism.

Last in the series “Evangelicals in Search of Identity”

Many evangelicals, longing for spiritual normalcy in the best sense of the word, are quite ready to go beyond obsolete institutional loyalties and to follow more challenging life charts. Desiring the evangelical community to be what it ought to be, they are ready to venture upon more biblical ways. But they will not be bludgeoned unpersuaded into new paths. They are waiting for trusted leaders who will rally fragmented forces to comprehend and carry out the new vision of a uniting task.

Often, unfortunately, these leaders champion their own special causes as the superhighway into the future. Many discerning laymen and clergymen know, however, that a numb conscience is one of Satan’s choice wishes for the evangelical community. Such a conscience reconciles Christians to the pressing needs of the age. To rely solely on already existing resources and on frontier techniques perpetuates evangelical deficiencies.

Fortunately the evangelical movement is not, for all its tensions, deeply haunted by a pluralism that embraces radically contradictory beliefs. Evangelicalism insists and relies, moreover, on the regenerating reality of the Holy Spirit to spiritually enliven those who find forgiveness of sins through the crucified and risen Lord, and it demonstrates much of the moral power that distinguishes a redeemed people from their secular milieu. In our sexually adolescent and aberrational age, evangelicalism fosters wholesome family resources. In a time when for multitudes work lacks meaning and challenge, it can define vocation in terms of divine calling and human service. In a land of greying goals and values, it can stress anew the nation’s answerability to God, who gave it birth and preserves it still for justice at home and abroad. Evangelicals have abundant vitality that, if properly applied, can energize both them and the world with promise and hope.

Yet we often deport ourselves on the public scene like outcasts to Russia or China; we resign ourselves to a subculture if not underground existence. That is the surest way for a minority—and Christians are likely to be a minority in many if not most places—to turn the possibility of underground existence into actuality. Our churches are more frequently cities of refuge than bases from which to invade the secular society that in the past made the Puritan distasteful and is now trying to make the evangelical no less so.

We need first and foremost a fresh touch of fire upon our lives and lips. There is little to fear from this anti-intellectually-tempered age. Ecumenists have become “manythingarians,” Unitarians are phasing into “nothingarians,” and liberals are fading into “anything-and-everything-arians.” Trinitarians have seldom had so opportune a day in which to champion the claims of revelational theism; it is nothing short of high tragedy to withhold a bold evangelical witness.

Perhaps we have too many alien alliances to present evangelical Christianity forthrightly and persuasively; perhaps we have substituted clichés for conscientious conviction and need to reinstall informed dedication. Perhaps television routinely robs us of time better given to serious reading and contemplation and prayer. Perhaps our love of God has paled and we need, in keeping with our own message, to return in contrition to the Risen Lord who asks, “Lovest thou me?”

Some key evangelicals are not even on speaking terms, let alone on learning terms. How does one speak convincingly to the world of a body whose members are indispensable to one another when the arm disowns the head or the mouth declares of the ear, “I have no need of you”? How do erstwhile Christian co-workers drift apart? How do charismatics invalidate one another’s tongues and even go to court with one another while trumpeting charisma as the deepest unifier of the Christian community?

Perhaps we ought to listen in on what our children are saying, those who resist part of what was their evangelical heritage because they desire greater loyalty to Christ and the Word. It would be illuminating to have a major evangelical dialogue that involved not simply elder statesmen but also younger statesmen such as John Woodbridge, Clyde Donald Taylor, Thomas McIntire, Richard Kantzer, Marlin VanElderen, John Walvoord, Tom Howard, Stephen Monsma, Don Wyrtzen, and Paul Henry. We might learn whether in overcoming the polarities of the recent past they are simply rearranging these polarities, whether they are enmeshed in new polarities of the emerging future, or whether they are blessed, as we hope, with insights that assure a better day.

Those who declare that unabashed commitment to biblical inerrancy guarantees theological vitality have the past twenty-five years of meagre production by the Evangelical Theological Society to explain. Those who contend that personal evangelism best guarantees national sensitivity to morality and social justice have the breakdown of public ethics to explain. Those who maintain that doctrinal consensus best guarantees ecclesiastical unity have to explain the ongoing divisions among evangelicals, whose churches have much more in common theologically than do ecumenical congregations. Those who insist that God frowns upon any and all cooperation with those outside our own church structures should honestly examine the fruits of such exclusiveness. Those who contend that the theology of revelation is the most persuasive context for forging world-life concerns must explain the dearth of serious philosophical exposition of rational theism in our evangelical college circles.

In modern warfare, supremacy at sea means little without supremacy in the air; in Christian engagement, evangelistic success and social change devoid of theological truth and power are but temporary and vulnerable gains. Social change without evangelistic regeneracy easily capitulates to radical excesses or unexpected reversion; theological profundity without evangelistic compassion spawns arid ecclesiastical introversion. We are fighting in the modern world with seriously impaired strength if we think that even at the human level the evangelical cause depends mainly on the evangelist or the theologian or the social activist per se, and does not involve a three-pronged approach.

While we supposed leaders champion our special interests and assure our followers that the evangelical prospect was never brighter because of what we represent, more and more discerning Christians are asking what has happened to comprehensive, coordinated leadership that stimulates not only evangelical initiative but also evangelical reconciliation. It is time that the evangelical movement sees itself for what it is: a lion on the loose that no one today seriously fears.

Eternity is a long time. The death of Mao Tse-tung last month in Peking brought forth great choruses of appeals for Mao and his thoughts to reign eternally. Said the official announcement of his death by Hsinhua, the Chinese press agency, “Eternal glory to our great leader and teacher Chairman Mao Tse-tung.”

Not all the praise for the revolutionary leader of mainland China has come from within the borders of that country. Much has come from without, and some from prominent Christian personalities. Some of their statements have come close to the Mao worship that is so apparent in the official notices.

Mao Tse-tung did have a long view of history, and he was a student of human nature. These facts explain in part why he was able to run a revolution and control a fifth of the world’s people for over a quarter of a century. His knowledge of eternity was deficient, however. The substitutes for religious faith and experience he offered were poor substitutes. They required the people to trust something or someone (particularly Mao) that could be here today and gone tomorrow.

A good example of this religious system, as it was offered to students, is given in David Adeney’s book China: Christian Students Face the Revolution (InterVarsity Press, 1973). Adeney writes that Chinese students were instructed, “Do not worship earth, do not worship heaven, only worship the effort of the people.” The Communist religious system includes the important elements of other faiths: holy writ (Mao’s Thoughts, or the “little red book”), objects of worship, concepts of sin and salvation, rituals for repentance, fellowship gatherings, and a hierarchy.

Maoist salvation, according to Adeney, “is concerned with the transformation of the man and of the society in which he lives. It is to be brought about by social, psychological and educational means. Because of their great emphasis upon scientific technology, the communists constantly confuse technical possibilities with moral capacity.”

Chairman Mao’s “theology” was its faultiest at the point of eternity. Adeney writes, “For the communist, there is no future life for the individual and therefore the only form of judgment which he recognizes is that which comes in this life. His reward is the satisfaction that he is having a part in the on-going process which will bring about the future communist society that later generations will enjoy.”

While Communist China’s leaders always protested that they allowed religious freedom, for over a quarter of a century they drummed their own doctrine into the whole population. In a variety of ways they stifled the free expression of contrary religious views. Most of the young people who have grown up in China during the past twenty-five years have had no opportunity to hear of any religion other than Mao’s man-centered brand. The ancient Chinese faiths, as well as Christianity, have dwindled or have been crushed.

Yet the people are still interested in eternity. The words “forever” and “eternal” kept recurring in the messages of mourning. Columnist Joseph Kraft, in Peking at the time of Mao’s death, said wreaths were banned at a revolutionary monument. Instead, mourners fastened little white poppies to the fence around the monument. Messages were attached to the flowers, and one said, “Chairman Mao, you live forever in our minds.” The mourners gathered on a street called the Avenue of Eternal Peace. Mao was hailed as the creator of “heaven on earth.”

For all that he knew about people, Mao failed to take into account man’s real nature. An anonymous Chinese contributor to Christianity and the New China (William Carey Library, 1976) reports from inside the country, “Mao’s teachings, through pervasive indoctrination, have influenced to varying degrees the minds of the people. But Maoist thought reform has hardly touched the soul of the people, or brought a true conversion and rebirth in the image of a Maoist selfless man, which the Chairman himself is not. The Maoist revolution has changed the face of Chinese society and has greatly weakened traditional Chinese ideas and values, but it has not changed the individual to any great extent.”

Less than a month before Mao’s death, the Chinese Congress on World Evangelization was held in Hong Kong (see September 24 issue, page 60). Although at this unprecedented meeting of evangelical leaders nothing was said officially about evangelization on the mainland, it was a matter of concern to every delegate.

John Pollock said in his autobiography of L. Nelson Bell, A Foreign Devil in China, that Bell never wavered in his belief “that Christ’s Church remains, hidden to Western eyes, persecuted, yet virile, and that God is sovereign, working out His purposes, even through those who deny His existence and try to root out His word and liquidate His people.” Dr. Bell, a founder of this magazine, spent twenty-five years working among the Chinese as a medical missionary. His views represent those of thousands of other Christians who know the Chinese Church. The eternal God has his people there, and Christians in the rest of the world now owe them their prayers as never before.

Diplomatic Expectations

A showdown appears to be imminent in South Africa, not to mention Rhodesia, and perhaps in South Korea, where the situation continues to deteriorate.

Non-white Africans are on the march after enduring generations of oppression. They appear ready to resort to violence on a large and unprecedented scale if they do not quickly get more of a say in the government. Henry Kissinger has for his task the prevention of open warfare. The best he can hope for is a guarantee that the white regime will agree to allow non-white political participation in time to prevent a military eruption. Kissinger cannot resolve the problem in a few weeks, and he cannot stave off bloodshed for long. Most black Africans want speed; most white Africans want delay. If no middle ground can be found, then deep trouble is almost certain.

Kissinger may also find himself pulled into the South Korean crisis, where an authoritarian state suppresses anti-government dissent. Christian clergymen have been jailed for offenses that are usually considered crimes only under Communism—which President Park claims to oppose.

In the midst of all this, North Americans and the Christian world should not expect too much of Secretary Kissinger’s efforts. Many socially conscious Christians idealistically cry for instant answers in South Africa and South Korea (while keeping silent about injustices elsewhere). Would it not be wiser to scale down our expectations in the light of our knowledge of human nature?

The situation in both areas is difficult for Christian missionaries. Some feel they must oppose the existing regimes; others believe their ministries require them to be more politically passive. It is especially important for missionary agencies to formulate strategies that will ensure their continued assistance to the cause of evangelization—whether missionaries go or stay. Christ’s ambassadors may be able to accomplish something in these trouble spots when others fail.

From Peoria To Paris

Edward O’Rourke is the Roman Catholic bishop of Peoria, Illinois (the town jocularly mentioned by so many journalists and politicians). He was a passenger aboard the Trans World Airlines flight from New York to Chicago that was hijacked to Paris by Croatian nationalists. O’Rourke refused an opportunity offered by the hijackers to leave the plane in Newfoundland. He is to be commended, as are the Air France crewmen who refused to leave when they were told in Uganda that all but the Jewish passengers were free to go.

O’Rourke used the unexpected opportunity to minister to the captive passengers, at the captain’s request. Two passengers reportedly criticized the bishop later for frightening the passengers, and during the flight, an attendant apparently “upbraided” him for “depressing” the people. His offense was to urge over the public-address system that the people on board should get right with God.

It was not the bishop who frightened the people; it was their situation. If being in a plane commandeered by terrorists who are willing to sacrifice their lives (and the lives of others) is not enough to make one think of where he will spent eternity, it is unlikely that anything will. Perhaps God allowed certain people to be on that flight because he wanted them to face up to reality, eternal reality. (O’Rourke himself had been booked on an earlier flight that he missed because of a traffic jam on the way to the airport.) We commend Bishop O’Rourke for challenging his captive audience about the need for being reconciled with God.

There is a sense in which all of humanity is on a hijacked spaceship, the planet earth. Satan and his aides are assuring us that all will be well. But Christians know that all will be well only for those who accept the grace of God. The captain of the ship, God himself, has asked us to minister to the needs of our fellow passengers. Christians must carry out their duty no matter how much they are criticized by those who do not want to face the truth.

The Order Of Giving

One of the most challenging examples of giving reported in the Scriptures is in Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, verses one through five of chapter eight. The writer told the Corinthians (in what is now southern Greece) about the experience of the Macedonians (in what is now northern Greece). He did not waste words in making his point. The Macedonians, he wrote, not only “gave according to their means” but gave “beyond their means.” Moreover, they did this not from coercion but “of their own free will” (v. 3). In fact, believers in the north were “begging us earnestly for the favor of taking part in the relief of the saints” (v. 4). Perhaps one reason why we do not see more power today is that Christians, rather than begging to be allowed to give, have to be begged to give.

It is important to notice what preceded this commendable practice of bountiful giving: “First they gave themselves to the Lord” (v. 5). Having given themselves, they proceeded naturally to giving their possessions. They did not beg to give because they had a lot to spare. The Macedonian Christians had an “abundance of joy,” but as for material goods their “wealth of liberality” came out of “extreme poverty” (v. 2).

Even prior to their giving of themselves stands an act of God. Paul begins the narrative by reminding his readers “about the grace of God which has been shown in the churches of Macedonia” (v. 1).

The order commended to the Corinthian church is the order modern believers should follow: first recognizing and receiving the grace of God, then giving one’s self, and then bountifully giving one’s possessions.

Incomplete Reading

Opposite the editorial page in the Washington Post the other day was a column beginning this way:

“I am a Hoosier and an American, a writer, a politician and a former alderman, a basketball fan, a moralist, a political scientist, a professor, a Presbyterian, and a reader of both Robert Benchley and Reinhold Niebuhr. I have been born, at most, once.”

We hope that this opinion-former’s reading will lead him, soon, to the truth that once-born men die twice and twice-born men die once.

Dreamers And Doers

No reports have reached us so far about the formation of a Martian Missionary Movement. Perhaps it is a bit early, since no astronauts have landed on Mars, and no little green men have yet been photographed by the United States spacecraft that did land there.

Then again, it might not be premature. An enterprising newspaper reporter managed to interview several leading churchmen on the possibilities of human life on Mars, and the resulting article made them appear to be fighting over whether or not it is time to evangelize that planet. And certainly, some travel promoter must be planning a conference there soon (with no-refund deposits now being accepted). And think of the broader base some of the ecumenical organizations could have if they were not restricted to working in this world.

We trust that while all the certified dreamers keep on dreaming about the Church’s responsibility to Mars, they will not forget the planet on which we live. And those of us who don’t or can’t dream have our assignment in the here and now.

A long, dark tunnel of work stretched out with no end in view. A tunnel with a rough floor, twists and turns in the dark, protruding rocks for walls, can be a dismal place indeed—and the decision to keep on seems impossible at times, although to turn back is a waste and may turn out to be disastrous.

My husband Fran stood over his two tables, placed together to make a large working space. Spread out before him were sheets, manuscript copies of his original, that had on their wide margins handwritten additions and suggestions made by a number of researchers. Instead of reading down one page, he had to deal with several manuscript pages for each page—ideas had to be considered as the handwriting was deciphered, and decisions made. Would the work ever come to an end? Was it right to start it in the first place? What did he have to put aside to do this? Had he correctly understood the Lord’s leading? Should he continue in this tunnel of work, writing a book and narrating a documentary film on the rise and decline of Western thought and culture so that people could have a Christian alternative to the humanistic documentaries put out on history, philosophy, science, art, music, law, government, and theology? (He tells about this project in the interview elsewhere in this issue.) Or was it all too much? The prayer was. “Show us, Lord; make it clear to us.”

Before breakfast one morning, with the table full of work waiting silently, Fran was reading his Bible and I was reading mine. Suddenly he said, “Listen, Edith, I’ve just come to Ezekiel 33,” and he read the chapter to me. “It seems clear that the Lord is speaking to me. There is no turning back.”

We discussed it. We have read this chapter frequently since then. Each time I read it, it seems to speak with fresh strength in our own moment of history. The marvel of God’s Word is that it was written by God, through men whom he chose and inspired, to apply to all moments of history in a way that no work of man’s limited wisdom could do.

“Again the word of the LORD came unto me, saying.…” Verse one makes vivid the fact that God is speaking to Ezekiel, and in verse two, “Son of man, speak to the children of thy people, and say unto them …,” God is telling Ezekiel to verbalize a message clearly so that people can hear and understand something that is to make a difference to their future.

What Ezekiel is to say is that when God brings a sword upon the land, or judgment, there is to be a watchman who will stand upon the wall and warn the people in time to do something about the enemy, or the coming judgment. That watchman is to blow a trumpet to warn the people in time. In fact, the chapter goes on to make it clear that if the person hearing the trumpet is warned, he will be safe; if not, then he will die. However, if the watchman does not blow the trumpet, the blood of the unwarned people is upon his hand.

The compassionate God of the Old Testament is seen here. This is a chapter speaking of judgment, yet it commands a careful preparation for warning the people in time. A strong responsibility is placed upon those who are to be watchmen: “When I say unto the wicked, O wicked man, thou shalt surely die, if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand. Nevertheless, if thou warn the wicked of his way to turn from it; if he do not turn from his way, he shall die in his iniquity; but thou hast delivered thy soul.”

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter much,” someone may say. “We’ll all be happy in heaven.” But God does not speak to us without meaning. We may not understand the total meaning of his warnings, but we know they mean something. There is meaning in the statement, “I will require his blood at thine hand,” and the opposite, “But thou hast delivered thy soul.”

That meaning is the background of the following verse: “Therefore, O thou son of man, speak unto the house of Israel: Thus ye speak, saying, If our transgressions and our sins be upon us, and we pine away in them, how should we then live?” The question today is: “If humanism has been a failure, if there is no satisfying answer to life that starts with man, and leaves God out of it all, if the concept of an impersonal universe has brought forth the chaotic situation that surrounds us, how should we then live? What is the answer to life?” The question needs to be placed in men’s and women’s minds to shake them, to make them think. We have a responsibility to do something that people will hear, as they would hear a trumpet blast.

The title of my husband’s book and film was chosen from this verse: “How Should We Then Live?” As he moves through Western history and culture from the time of the Romans until now, it becomes clear that humanism has failed to produce utopia. We pray that every unbeliever who sees this film or reads the book may ask in some way, “How should we then live?”

God’s answer in Ezekiel is one of tenderness and compassion: “Say unto them, As I live, saith the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel?” (v. 11). The trumpet sound, the call to stop and consider the judgment to come, was a call to “turn to God.”

Come to the last few verses of Ezekiel 33: “Also, thou son of man, the children of thy people still are talking against thee by the walls and in the doors of the houses, and speak one to another, every one to his brother, saying, Come, I pray you, and hear what is the word that Cometh forth from the LORD. And they come unto thee as the people cometh, and they sit before thee as my people, and they hear thy words, but they will not do them: for with their mouth they show much love, but their heart goeth after their covetousness. And lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument: for they hear thy words, but they do them not.”

We are strongly told here that covetousness is a barrier, a stopping place, between hearing and doing the Word of God. The Word of God is not to be heard as lovely music and then forgotten. Covetousness of money, material things, time, honor, acceptance, success, a variety of crass or subtle things, can be a sudden wall that stops us from being the kind of people God means us to be, for our own sakes, for his glory, and for the sake of the lost people around us. The question needs to be asked by those of us who are Christians, too: “In the light of all this, how should we then live?”

A group of people known as the Genesis Project want to perform plastic surgery on the face of church-school education. It will take some thirty-two years to complete, but the operation is under way. Here is the way Genesis sees a newmedia Sunday-school class.

The lesson: Luke 1. The Bible: a ¾ inch video cassette (also available in 16mm or 8mm film). Teaching materials: two filmstrips per cassette, with record or cassette recordings, leader’s guide, and a new magazine, Bible Times. The students don’t read the lesson; they watch and hear it. The video portion was filmed in Israel in color. Background music is an original score. No dialogue is used other than that recorded by the writers of Scripture. Elizabeth, Zechariah, Mary, and Joseph speak Hebrew in the background while the class hears a word-for-word narration in either the King James, the Revised Standard, or possibly the New American. If it’s King James, Alexander Scourby narrates; Orson Welles handles the Revised Standard. The actors, other than the Israeli actor Topol, who plays Abraham in this series, are unknowns.

Prolific film producer John Heyman, who began research for the Genesis Project (or the New Media Bible) six years ago, serves as chief executive officer. Over the next thirty-two years he plans to film the entire Bible for sale to churches, synagogues, libraries, and educational institutions. A charter subscription costs $2,000. After November 1 the price goes up $500.

The first twenty-two chapters of Genesis and chapters one and two of Luke are the initial installments of the multi-million-dollar project ($5 million has been spent so far, the money raised from American and British businessmen). Portions of the Old and New Testaments will be filmed and issued year by year. Early in the marketing stage the company has sold more than 400 subscriptions.

Each film runs fifteen to twenty minutes. The story of Noah, presented as a colorful cartoon, might disappoint more conservative churches or schools. But the New Media Bible leaders have tried to translate Scripture into film with authenticity and without a liberal or conservative approach. The other sections of Genesis are realistic and straightforward; the birth of Cain is perhaps too realistic for younger children. The journeys of Abraham present some interesting sociological facts, and the accompanying filmstrips and magazines detail what is shown on film.

Unlike much Sunday-school material, Bible Times thoroughly explores the cultural setting of the biblical narratives and provides maps, photographs, and glossaries to aid in the study of Scripture. The magazine also explains how Bible history fits into the history students learn in school.

To appeal to as broad a market as possible, the New Media Bible is available in two different tracks. The basic film is the same, but the support material comes in either a liberal or an evangelical color. Leaders used conservative scholars as resource personnel for the evangelical track. And the inerrancy of Scripture is upheld in both magazine and filmstrips.

Each magazine includes a scholars’ “Roundtable” discussion that considers the Bible passage and its interpretation. The late Charles F. Pfeiffer edited the section on Abraham’s first journey. Among the others involved were Ronald Youngblood from Bethel Seminary and Marvin Wilson from Gordon College.

Genesis leaders want to provide a solid tool for teaching the Bible in today’s visually oriented society. How the material is used and what interpretation certain thorny passages get will rest with the church or institution.

How well the project succeeds in creating a new tool to revive the ailing Sunday school will depend in part on how well the producers have translated the Bible into film. The Luke films, completed after the ones from the book of Genesis, show an exceptional level of sensitivity to the texts. Since we hear no dialogue, the strength of the films depends almost totally on the facial expressions of the actors, camera angles, color, and to a degree the background music.

The segment on the Annunciation melds music and action. The temple scenes are compellingly low key. And the camera shots through the menorah (Jewish candelabra) add texture and depth to what could have been a bland, documentary-like shot. The narration never overpowers the action. Through careful editing, the narration was blocked to provide silent spaces when our attention focuses on the acting. Zechariah’s encounter with the angel is one of the most moving sections of the film. The mellow colors, too, contribute to this visual feast. Although I didn’t think the Nativity film as strong or visually effective as the one on the Annunciation, it is frames ahead of the sentimental celluloid we usually see.

Fifteen minutes is a short running time for a film, but the producers have used skill and imagination to insure an intense, involved reaction from their audiences. Because these are educational films first, anything longer would have overloaded us.

The first segments were not the most challenging to film (though they may have been the most challenging to film in a fresh way). What will Heyman and company do with Paul’s letters, David’s Psalms, or Solomon’s Proverbs? And think of the decisions regarding the book of Revelation.

Authenticity and educational effectiveness can be achieved in many ways. To me, a blend of scholarly research, imaginative filming, and twentieth-century technology—the way the New Media Bible has chosen—is one of the best. We remember what we see. If the Genesis Project succeeds only in bringing freshness to the familiar passages of Scripture, it will have been well worth the effort. And it promises to do much more.

What does evangelism have to do with social justice? For more than a decade, Christians have battled over this issue. Many evangelicals believe that proclaiming the Gospel to individuals is, as Billy Graham said in his Lausanne address, “the vital mission of the Church.” The World Council of Churches, on the other hand, has focused most of its activity on social justice and then redefined evangelism to include socioeconomic liberation.

I want to argue that the disagreement results from insufficient attention to Scripture. Evangelicals have often defined the Gospel in an unbiblically narrow way. And they have failed to see that evangelism is inseparable from—though by no means identical with—social concern. Conciliar Christians (i.e., those identified with the ecumenical movement) have often broadened the definition of evangelism and “Gospel” in a biblically irresponsible fashion. Only individuals—not nations or corporations—can repent and enter into a personal, saving relationship with the Risen Lord. Hence it is confusing nonsense to talk of evangelizing political or economic structures.

We stand at an important juncture in Christian history. The Minneapolis Congress on Evangelism (1969), the Chicago Declaration of Evangelical Social Concern (1973), and the Lausanne Covenant (1974) all point to a conviction by growing numbers of evangelicals that a full commitment to biblical revelation necessarily entails a concern for social justice. The World Council of Churches, on the other hand, issued an urgent call for evangelism at its Fifth Assembly in Nairobi (1975). Surprisingly, the Assembly document on “Confessing Christ Today,” unlike earlier WCC statements, even distinguished pointedly between evangelism and social action. It is to be hoped that these welcome affirmations on both sides will now be backed up by actions.

The time is ripe for a new look at the meaning of evangelism and its relation to social action. Evangelism is the communication of the Gospel. But there is disagreement over what constitutes the Gospel. In this article I want to examine the word “Gospel” with the aim of letting New Testament usage guide us toward a more helpful way of stating the relation between evangelism and social justice.

New Testament Terminology

According to the New Testament, the Gospel is the Good News about the kingdom of God (Mark 1:14, 15). It is the Good News about God’s Son, Jesus, the Messiah, who is our Saviour and Lord (Romans 1:3, 4; 2 Cor. 4:3–6). It is the Good News about the historical Jesus—his death for our sins and his resurrection on the third day (1 Cor. 15:1–5). And it is the Good News about a totally new kind of community, the people of God, who are already empowered to live according to the standards of the New Age (Eph. 3:7).

Stated more systematically, the content of the Gospel is (1) the forgiveness of sins through the cross, (2) regeneration through the Holy Spirit, (3) the Lordship of Christ, and (4) the fact of the kingdom.

One does not need to argue the first two points among evangelicals. We all agree that anyone who proclaims a gospel that omits or de-emphasizes the justification and regeneration of individuals is preaching his own message, not God’s good news of salvation through the Lord Jesus Christ.

We all recognize, too, that part of the Good News is the proclamation that this Jesus who justifies and regenerates is also Lord—Lord of all things in heaven and earth. The Gospel he preaches, Paul reminded the Corinthians, was of “Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Cor. 4:4, 5; cf. also Rom. 10:8–16). But we seldom appropriate the full implications of this abstract dogma. If Jesus’ Lordship is a part of the Gospel, then the call to the costly, unconditional discipleship demanded by this Sovereign is inseparable from the summons to accept the Gospel: “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it” (Mark 8:34 and 35).

Although distinguishable, regeneration and discipleship are inseparable. The one who justifies and regenerates also demands that we forsake all other lords, shoulder the cross, and follow him. Accepting the evangelistic call necessarily entails accepting Jesus as Lord of our family life, our sexual life, our racial attitudes, our business practices, and our civic life. Jesus will not be our Saviour if we reject him as our Lord.

That does not mean, of course, that genuine Christians live perfectly surrendered, sinless lives. We continue to be justified by grace alone in spite of ongoing sin. But it does mean that conscious, persistent rejection of Jesus’ Lordship in any area of our lives is, as Calvin taught, a clear sign that saving faith is not present. Genuine Christians—and, thank God, he alone knows who they are—have an unconditional willingness to submit to Jesus’ Lordship as the implications of this submission unfold from day to day. Those who do not, Paul warns, whether they are idolaters, adulterers, hom*osexuals, thieves, or greedy persons, simply will not inherit the kingdom (1 Cor. 6:9, 10).

Too often Christians (especially evangelical Protestants in this century) have proclaimed a cheap grace that offers the forgiveness of the Gospel without the discipleship demands of the Gospel. But that is not Jesus’ Gospel. Right at the heart of the Gospel is the call to an unconditional discipleship in which Jesus is Lord of one’s entire life.

The fourth element of the Good News is less widely perceived to be part of the Gospel. According to the Gospels, the core of Jesus’ Good News was simply that the kingdom of God was at hand. Over and over again the Gospels define the content of the Good News as the announcement of the kingdom that was present in the person and work of Jesus (Mark 1:14, 15; Matt. 4:23; 24:14; Luke 4:43: 16:16).

But what was the nature of the kingdom Jesus proclaimed? Was it only an invisible kingdom in the hearts of individuals? Was it a new political regime of the same order as Rome? The kingdom became present wherever Jesus overcame the power of evil. But the way Jesus chose to destroy the kingdom of Satan and establish his own kingdom was not to forge a new political party. Rather, Jesus chose to call together a new, visible community of disciples joined together by their acceptance of the divine forgiveness he offered and by their unconditional submission to his total Lordship over their lives.

That this kingdom is not just an invisible spiritual abstraction peopled with ethereal, redeemed souls is very clear in the New Testament. Jesus not only forgave sins; he also healed the physical and mental diseases of those who believed. His disciples shared a common purse. The early Church engaged in voluntary economic sharing (Acts 4:32; 5:16; 2 Cor. 8). The new community of Jesus’ disciples was and is (at least it ought to be) a visible social reality sharply distinguished from the world by both its belief and its life-style. His kingdom will reach its fulfillment only at his return, but right now by grace people can enter this new society where all social and economic relationships are being transformed. That an entirely new kind of life together in Jesus’ new peoplehood is now available to all who will repent, believe, and obey is Good News. And when the early Church gave visible expression to that kind of common life, it had a powerful evangelistic impact (Acts 6:1–7). The kingdom of heaven, then, is not just a future but also a present reality. The kingdom is part of the Good News.

So far we have seen that the content of the Gospel is justification, regeneration, Jesus’ Lordship, and the fact of the Church. But is there not a “secular” or “political” dimension to the Gospel?

Luke 4:18 and 19 is a crucial text. Reading from the prophet Isaiah, Jesus defined his mission in this way: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to [evangelisasthai] the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” In this text Jesus identifies several aspects of his mission. He says he has been sent to proclaim release to the captives, to proclaim recovering of sight to the blind, and to free the oppressed. (That Jesus did these things not only as a sign of his Messiahship but also because he had compassion on suffering human beings is evident everywhere in the Gospels; e.g., Matthew 14:14; 15:32; 20:34; Mark 1:41; Luke 7:13.) That healing the blind and freeing the oppressed is a fundamental part of his total mission is beyond question. But he does not equate these tasks with preaching the Gospel to the poor. Nor does he say one task is more important than another. The healing and freeing are important, and the preaching is important, and they are distinct.

The same point is clear in other passages. Matthew 11:1–6 contains the story of Jesus’ response to John the Baptist’s question, “Are you the Messiah?”: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them [are evangelized].” Again Jesus does not equate preaching the Gospel to (or evangelizing) the poor with healing the sick. He does both these things, and they are both important. Jesus sent his disciples out “to preach the kingdom of God and to heal” (Luke 9:2).

One final example is important. In both Matthew 4:23 and 9:35, the evangelist summarizes Jesus’ ministry as follows: “And he went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and preaching the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every infirmity among the people” (cf. also Luke 9:1–6, 11). Here there are three distinct types of tasks: teaching, preaching the Gospel, and healing sick people. They are not identical tasks. They should not be confused. And none should be omitted. All are crucial parts of the mission of Jesus. But for our purposes the most important conclusion is that none of these texts equates healing the blind or liberating the oppressed with evangelism. There is no New Testament justification for talking about “evangelizing” political structures.

Now obviously, of course, the twentieth-century Christian does not imitate every detail of Jesus’ life. But the New Testament does specifically command Christians to imitate Christ: “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps” (1 Pet. 2:21). Jesus of Nazareth, God incarnate, is our only perfect model. He devoted a great deal of time both to meeting physical needs and to proclaiming the Gospel, and we must, as Peter said, follow in his steps.

According to the New Testament, then, evangelism involves the announcement (via word and deed) of the Good News that there is forgiveness of sins through the cross; that the Holy Spirit will regenerate twisted personalities; that Jesus is Lord; and that people today can join Jesus’ new community, where all social and economic relationships are being made new.

Another Option: Distinct Yet Equal

In light of New Testament usage, it would seem that we need a new formulation of the relation between evangelism and social concern. The two are equally important but quite distinct aspects of the total mission of the Church. Evangelism involves the announcement (via words and deeds) of the Good News of (1) justification, (2) regeneration, (3) the Lordship of Jesus Christ, and (4) the fact of the new community, where all relationships are being redeemed. When individuals accept this Good News, they enter into a personal relationship with the living God through faith in Jesus Christ and into a transformed relationship with the community of believers, and experience salvation. It is precisely the transforming power of the Gospel that enables the true believer to respond to the biblical call for social concern.

Social concern involves both relief for those suffering from social injustice and the restructuring of all of society, saved and unsaved, for the sake of greater social justice. Unfortunately, not all societies provide as much opportunity for political action as does the United States. Living in the totalitarian Roman Empire, Paul did not have the political opportunities available in democracies. But he was not a-political. He insisted on due process at Philippi (Acts 16:35–39). He took advantage of his right to appeal to Caesar as a Roman citizen (Acts 26:32). Knowing that the Bible teaches that God deplores evil social structures (see below), Christians will use the opportunities available to promote more just societies.

To label this increased social justice “salvation,” however, is confusing. Until our Lord’s return, all attempts to restructure society will at best produce only significantly less imperfect, not perfect, societies; those societies will still be tragically pockmarked by the consequences of the fall.

But that does not mean that evangelism is more important than social action. Some will say: “Surely if unevangelized souls are going to eternal damnation, then evangelization must be our primary concern.” Now I find that a powerful concern, because I believe our Lord taught that when people reject his loving offer of grace, they suffer eternal separation from the presence of the living God. However, our Lord was quite aware of that when he chose to devote vast amounts of his time to healing sick bodies that he knew would rot in one, two, or thirty years. The Gospels provide no indication, either by explicit statement or by space allotments, that Jesus considered healing sick people any less important than preaching the Good News. He commanded us both to feed the hungry and to preach the Gospel; he did not say that the latter was required while the former was an option that could be considered if spare time and money were available.

Jesus is our only perfect model. If God incarnate thought he could—or rather, must—devote large amounts of his potential preaching time to the healing of sick bodies, then surely we are unfaithful disciples if we fail to follow in his steps in this area.

The reverse, of course, is equally true. Neither theoretically nor in the allocation of personnel and funds dare the Church make social concern more important than evangelism. The time has come for all biblical Christians to refuse to say, “The primary mission of the Church is.…” I do not care whether you complete the sentence with “evangelism” or “social concern.” Either way it is unbiblical and misleading. Evangelism, social concern, fellowship, teaching, worship—all these are fundamental parts of the mission of the Church. They must not be confused with one another, although they are inextricably interrelated. Scripture shows that the Church has many tasks, and it does not give us a choice of which to obey. Note carefully what we call the Great Commission: “Go therefore and make disciples … teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you …” (Matt. 28:19, 20).

I have argued both that evangelism and social concern are distinct and that they are inseparable. Let me conclude with a brief discussion of several aspects of their interrelationship.

In the first place, proclamation of the biblical Gospel necessarily includes a call to repentance and turning away from all forms of sin. Sin is both personal and societal. In one breath, Amos condemns both mistreatment of the poor and sexual misconduct (Amos 2:6, 7). Drunkenness and the amassing of large tracts of land at the expense of the neighbor are equally displeasing to the Lord (Isa. 5:8–23). God abhors laws and statutes that are unjust, even though they may be duly authorized (Ps. 94:20–23; Isa. 10:1–4). (See also “Mischief by Statute: How We Oppress the Poor,” CHRISTIANITY TODAY, July 16, 1976.)

Evangelists regularly preach that coming to Jesus means forsaking pot, pubs, and p*rnography. Too often in this century, however, they have failed to add that coming to Jesus ought necessarily to involve repentance of and conversion from the sin of involvement in social evils such as economic injustice and institutionalized racism. Biblical evangelism will call for repentance of one’s involvement in both individual and collective (group) sins. And since the Gospel also includes the proclamation of Jesus’ total Lordship, biblical evangelism will clearly declare the cost of unconditional discipleship. Calls to repentance should remind people that Jesus demands a turning away (conversio) from both personal and social evil. Evangelists regularly insist that coming to Jesus requires forsaking lying and adultery. If such preaching does not compromise sola gratia, then neither will a biblical insistence that coming to Jesus will necessarily include repenting of one’s involvement in institutional racism and economic injustice and working for more just societies.

Second, the very existence of the Church as a new community where all social relationships are being redeemed has a significant impact on society, because the Church has often offered—and should always offer—a visible model of the way people can live in community in more loving and just ways. The Church was the first to develop such institutions as hospitals, schools, and orphanages. These all witness to the fact that living a new model in defiance of the norms and accepted values of surrounding society can in the long run have a powerful effect on the total social order.

Third, social action sometimes facilitates the task of evangelism. Just as the situation of persons trapped in unjust social structures sometimes hinders a positive response to the Gospel, so too increasing social justice may make some people more open to the Good News. Sometimes the very act of working in the name of Jesus for improved socio-economic conditions for the oppressed enables persons to understand the proclaimed word of God’s love in Christ. In that situation the act of social concern is itself truly evangelistic.

Fourth, a biblically informed social action will not fail to point out that participation in social injustice is not just inhuman behavior toward one’s neighbors but also sin against Almighty God. Hence biblical social action will contain, always implicitly and often explicitly, a call to repentance.

In practice, then, evangelism and social concern are intricately interrelated. They are inseparable both in the sense that evangelism often leads to increased social justice and vice versa and also in the sense that biblical Christians will, precisely to the extent that they are faithful followers of Jesus, always seek liberty for the oppressed (Luke 4:18). But the fact that evangelism and social concern are inseparable certainly does not mean that they are identical. They are distinct, equally important parts of the total mission of the Church.

Paul D. Steeves is assistant professor of history and director of Russian studies at Stetson University in Deland, Florida. He has the Ph.D. from the University of Kansas and specializes in modern Russian history.

The darkness exists;

it does not have to be imagined.

If I forget it,

it remains, a stain of shadow

under my feet,

at the nape of my neck,

leaking through my heart.

When we would lock the darkness

away from us with facsimiles of light,

we only feed its falseness.

Striking a match

on the wall of my flesh, I see,

after the pop and flare have dwindled,

after-images of my face

receding into night.

The darkness exists

and is more than our ignorance of light

and is more than the shadows cast

by our pride and fear.

Yet the true star is kindled,

a straight blaze of sun

before which darkness flees

and gathers itself

into its own shadow.

Francis Schaeffer is founder of the L’Abri Fellowship in Huemoz, Switzerland, and a widely known lecturer and author. His latest project is a ten-episode film series, “How Should We Then Live?,” which will be released next year by Gospel Films. A companion book is being published by Revell. He was interviewed byCHRISTIANITY TODAYeditors. A review of a new book examining Schaeffer’s apologetics appears on page 42. In “Witness Stand” (page 32) Edith Schaeffer gives some further background information about the film project.

Question. You have been described in many ways. How do you view yourself, as a theologian, a philosopher, or a cultural historian?

Answer. My interest is evangelism. To evangelize in the twentieth century, one has to operate across the whole spectrum of disciplines and have answers for the questions. I think we often sell Christianity short, not putting forth the richness we have in Christ for the total culture and the total intellectual life. Evangelism, then, is two things: first of all, giving honest answers to honest questions to get the blocks out of the way so that people will listen to the Gospel as a viable alternative, and then secondly, showing them what Christianity means across the whole spectrum of life.

Q. What is the first hypothesis for evangelism?

A. That God is there, and is the kind of a God that the Bible says he is, and that he has not been silent but has given us propositional truth.

Q. Do you ask people to assume that, or do you try to persuade them to accept it as a self-evident presupposition? In other words, where is your starting point?

A. I could not accept entirely the way you have put the question. I think Luther was right. You have to have the law and the Gospel, and the law has to come first. For the twentieth century, the preaching of the law is showing the natural results of where humanism goes. This should be the first move on the board. As far as I’m concerned, it’s only the preaching of the law for a different framework of thought. This film series and the companion book are committed to show where humanism has taken us. After people see that humanism—man’s starting from himself alone—does not have the answers, they should be. and often are, ready to listen to the alternative that does have the answer. In his speech on Mars Hill, Paul was doing exactly what we need to do today. This is where I begin.

Q. Many people see L’Abri as a family ministry. Is that what it is?

A. Yes, it began as a family, and there is still a strong emphasis on community. It’s based on a certainty that Edith, the children, the other L’Abri workers, and I hold that the New Testament church was more than merely a place where people went and heard preaching and sang songs on Sunday. It was a real community, up to the high level of caring for one another’s material needs. I think L’Abri has given many people a concept of community that would be practiced differently in other situations than we practice it at L’Abri. For example, seeing that the local urban church must also be a community as well as a preaching point, they are able to transfer that concept. Every Christian group ought to have the two elements: a presentation of the truth without compromise, and an exhibition of community which substantiates what is said. I visualize these as two sides of a Gothic arch, one supporting the other.

Q. How do you distinguish between this kind of family community and a commune?

A. A commune by definition today has more to do with the sharing of goods in an enforced sort of way. We wouldn’t hold to this. We believe that the New Testament church sets a standard, with people having their own things but sharing them in love and by choice. We don’t hold things in common in the sense of a community owning people’s personal property. I do believe the Church has been very, very weak in the matter of a compassionate use of accumulated wealth. This has opened the door to the rather left-wing swing among some of the younger evangelicals, some of whom are beginning to equate the Kingdom of God with an almost socialistic program.

Q. What is your emphasis in this area?

A. In the film series and the new book I stress that the Reformation didn’t bring forth a golden age and that as the centuries passed various weaknesses developed. Two outstanding ones would be a twisted view of race and lack of attention to a compassionate use of accumulated wealth. What we try to show in L’Abri is that in love we share what we have because we believe that’s what a Christian community ought to do. This has been a very, very large part of L’Abri’s ministry.

Q. How do you deal with people from Marxist lands or with a Marxist outlook?

A. I’ve dealt more with Marxism in this new book and the film series than I have in any of my other writings. These people go into two categories. You have to see that there are two Marxisms, and they must not be confused. Do you remember “Danny the Red” (Daniel Cohn-Bendit), who led the May, 1968, Paris riots of the New Left? An interview with him was published recently, and he’s still a Marxist. He has a Marxist bookstore in Frankfurt. He says there are two Marxisms today: the idealistic Marxism and then the hard-line, orthodox, bureaucratic type. Most of the young Marxists in the West today are attracted in the same way they were attracted to the drug trip. It’s an existential dichotomy in which their reason does not enter in. In other words, they’ve accepted Marxism-Leninism as a different kind of trip: I think these kids have deliberately shut their minds to the fact that wherever Marxism has come to power it has always been with oppression. I think the only way to understand this kind of idealistic Marxism-Engelism is to understand that it’s a Christian heresy. Christians have the basis of why man has dignity: he’s made in the image of God. Marxism is built on materialism and offers no reason for the dignity of man. But the Marxists have reached across and taken our terminology and attracted the idealistic Marxist on the basis of what belongs to us. The danger as I see it is that at a certain point of history, with or without pressure from the imperialist, expansionist Communist countries, these two lines of Marxism-Engelism will flow together in a certain geographical location and bring Communism to power. Then it will be irreversible. Those who would go against the wall first would be these idealistic Communists. And this makes me very sad. These kids don’t understand what they are into. On the other hand, hard-line Marxist-Leninists really know what they stand for. They’re the ones with the apparatus.

We have lots of people who come out of Marxism. The first thing one has to do is to try to figure out through a rather lengthy conversation which class they fall into. I would talk to them in entirely different ways depending on whether they are in class A or class B. If they are in class A (the idealistic Communist), I would try to show them that Marxism-Leninism has no basis for the dignity of man and that it carries with it, as an intrinsic part of the system, oppression. In the film series we have a section on the French Revolution. The French Revolution is often taught as being related to the American Revolution, but it is not really related. The American Revolution is related to the English bloodless revolution under William and Mary because it was inside of a Christian consensus. In the film I show pictures of Washington and Voltaire and say these two revolutions are not the same by any means. I pick up Washington’s picture and put it beside William and Mary’s. Then I ask: Where does Voltaire belong? I pick up his picture and put it beside Lenin’s. And then I say: The French revolution ended with the massacre of 40,000 or more people under the guillotine, a lot of them peasants; oppression was a natural part of the system. Then I point out that it brought in an elite, a Napoleon. I pick up a picture of Napoleon and put it down beside one of Lenin and say: The same system when tried in Russia brought forth an elite within a few months under Lenin.

Q. The film series is quite a different kind of project for you. Was this a conscious decision to go to a secular audience through television, or do you think you will reach mostly Christian people?

A. My son, Franky, is an artist. He came to me one day and said, “Dad, I have two little children, and if what you say is right, and I believe you’re right, then we have a responsibility to try and change the flow. You have spent years and years studying all of this, and I think you have to be willing to take on a new project—even if it kills you.” I backed off and thought about it, and I decided Franky was right. So I said yes. Then Billy Zeoli of Gospel Films caught a vision of it, and we just went from there. Franky is the producer of the films. Our hope is that with the book and the ten episodes of films we will reach a wider spectrum than we have in the past. When my first books were written, the editors all said that they wouldn’t sell because the audience was not defined clearly enough. They thought you couldn’t talk to a Christian audience and a non-Christian one simultaneously. The God Who Is There and Escape From Reason are for both, specifically, and the editors were proven wrong. There have been literally thousands of people saved by reading these books. At the same time, the books emphasized the Lordship of Christ over the whole spectrum of life for the Christian as well as the richness of life. Our hope is that the new book and the films will once again speak to both audiences. All we can do is pray. I worked for a year and a half to try to remove all technical language from the book and from the film script. It was hard going to remove philosophical terminology and still have philosophical concepts! I’m not saying I was successful. We’ll have to wait and see. If I’m right that the shipyard worker has the same questions as the intellectual, and if I’ve been able to get rid of the technical language, then perhaps this message will get to a wider audience than anything we’ve done so far.

Q. How was the subject matter of the films chosen?

A. It was a hot summer night up in my study, and Franky asked me, “What would you do if you did it?” Without meaning to, I talked to him for an hour and a half, and he took notes, and at the end of the time we had an outline. There are only a couple of choices you can make. You can either do it by subject matter or you can do it historically. We chose to do it historically but not slavishly so.

We start with the Roman Empire, then go on to the Middle Ages, then the Renaissance. Parallel to the Renaissance we treat the Reformation in both its religious and cultural aspects. We also show that the Reformation brought forth certain political results, giving tremendous freedoms without leading to chaos because there was a Christian consensus. We mention weaknesses, however, in the areas of race and the compassionate use of wealth. However, we also point out that Shaftesbury. Wilberforce, and some other Christians, as Christians, did speak out on these issues. We then show the humanist base of the Enlightenment and the French Revolution and their results.

We go back and pick up the birth of modern science to show that Christianity was not a hindrance but really gave the basis for modern science. We show the breakdown in philosophy as it came through Rousseau and others, and the shift to materialistic science. Then we move into Paris, to the café Les Deux Magots, where Sartre got his hearing, and show how people gave up the hope of a unified field of knowledge and what the existentialist philosophers, the drug people, the occult people, and the existentialist theologians made of it. From there we show how these same concepts have been carried into the culture in painting, music, the novel, and the cinema. That brings us up into our own society and the 1964 Berkeley watershed. Finally the seventies are presented, with the alternatives which we think confront our society. So you can see the subject matter was arranged rather automatically.

Q. What is your budget for this?

A. It is $1.17 million.

Q. Why was such an expensive film project necessary?

A. If a film was going to be made to show Christianity as a viable alternative, then it technically had to be equal in quality to those series which have been given from a non-Christian, humanist viewpoint.

Q. Don’t you think that form and content need to match?

A. In good art the vehicle and the message must match. I think this film does that. We have a script plus the visuals that do it. My personal opinion is that we have something really good technically. I think it works.

Q. Your colleague Hans Rookmaaker once said it is impossible to tell the truth and to preach the Gospel on television. Do you expect this series to be televised?

A. So far we have a few commitments. The Dutch network helped with production and has committed time for the telecasts, for instance. We have contacts with some other networks, and there are individual stations which have shown an interest.

As far as telling the truth is concerned, I think television has to lean against telling an untruth. For instance, we shot a riot scene in San Jose two different ways to show how television is open to manipulation. We demonstrate that you can tell two different stories. You ought to be able to lean against manipulation and tell the truth.

Q. Isn’t that the case in every medium?

A. I think so.

Q. Do you expect to get more attention or a more dramatic effect by using television?

A. One problem with my books has been that when I talk about art there have been no illustrations to show it. This new book has over one hundred illustrations. Even so, when I was reading the book galleys I thought, “I wish people who are reading the book could see the film because they could understand even better than with a still photograph at this point.” Both vehicles have their limitations, and we have to live with them and fight against the misuse. The entire unit—the film, the book, and a study guide—makes a much stronger case than any one of them isolated from the others.

Q. Do you see any real potential for a reformation now, or are you just acting as if this could happen and conceding to yourself that it really won’t?

A. I wouldn’t for a moment say that it won’t happen, because God is God. But if you ask me, “Do you see any signs of a reformation?,” then I would say no. I simply don’t see it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t give my whole life to fighting like mad in the hope and prayer that, God willing, we will see it in my day and in my children’s day.

Q. What about the “evangelical boom” that is apparent in many places, with more people reading the Bible, being converted, and meeting together? While it doesn’t seem to affect the life-styles of some, don’t you see encouraging signs in this?

A. This falls into two halves. In the first half there are the experientially oriented. Anyone who knows anything about our ministry at L’Abri knows that I am not against experience, and I’m not just an intellectual machine. However, there is an awful lot of diminishing of content in our generation. I believe that as content is diminished force is diminished—even where there are true conversions.

The other half is that many of these people get little emphasis on the Lordship of Christ in the whole of life. Being a Christian means accepting Christ as Lord as well as Saviour. Whether it is L’Abri or the local church wherever it is, every Christian group on its level ought to be an exhibition of community in the wholeness of life.

Q. What can be done about the lack of content?

A. The answer to the humanist flow is not simply to say, “Accept Christ as your Saviour.” Of course. I don’t minimize the necessity of saying that in its proper place. However, the basic answer is that we have knowledge, propositional knowledge that cannot be generated out of a humanist stream. Humanism as I see it has a mathematical built-in guarantee of failure—and I don’t care whether it’s religious humanism or secular humanism. Mathematically, beginning from a finite person you cannot project an absolute. So all humanism is mathematically projected to fail. There is only one basic issue, and that is whether there is another source of knowledge which can tell us what we can’t find out for ourselves. Historic Christianity believes there is. We believe the Bible and the revelation of God in Christ are united and give us knowledge, not only “religious” knowledge but a key to understanding the universe and history. The Bible gives us absolutes by which to help and by which to judge society.

Q. What do you say to the critics who charge that you are dividing the evangelical community by making the Bible the watershed issue?

A. I think Elijah gave the right answer when Ahab accused him of being the troubler of Israel. The people who are taking a weak view of Scripture are the ones who are troubling evangelicalism today. I say this with gentleness and love toward these people. The people who are making the difficulty are the people who have demoted Scripture from what it has been understood to be in the evangelical world until the fairly recent past.

Paul D. Steeves is assistant professor of history and director of Russian studies at Stetson University in Deland, Florida. He has the Ph.D. from the University of Kansas and specializes in modern Russian history.

The Today’s English Version of the New Testament, popularly known as Good News For Modern Man, has carved out an important niche for itself in the history of Bible translation. It has been widely acclaimed by scholars and lay people alike since its appearance ten years ago. Tens of millions of copies have been sold or distributed here and abroad. Its popularity is due not only to the overall fidelity of its translation of the Greek text but also to the felicity of its style and the clarity of its language.

Now the American Bible Society is to be commended and congratulated for the recent publication of the corresponding Old Testament. The combination of the two testaments will be marketed as the Good News Bible; hence we will here refer to this Old Testament as the GNB. (For now, this Bible is available only through the American Bible Society.)

The manner in which the ABS translating team went about its work is interesting. A member of the team would do a first-draft translation of an Old Testament book and circulate copies to the other members. After they read it and made suggestions, he would do a second draft. Then in a series of full committee sessions the team would discuss and modify the second draft. The results of that work would become the third draft, which would be circulated to a review panel, which consisted of members of the translations committee of the ABS board, a broad range of churchmen, and United Bible Societies colleagues overseas. The translating team would then make whatever adjustments it considered appropriate and submit the manuscript to the ABS board. In the final stage of the process, Eugene Nida, head of the ABS translations department, and two members of the board’s translation subcommittee would review the team’s work and incorporate their own conclusions into the final manuscript. Although the GNB Old Testament was funded by the United Bible Societies, the UBS asked the ABS to serve as trustee on its behalf.

The GNB Old Testament presents a generally pleasing appearance. Each book is prefaced by an introduction and an outline of contents. Headings and subheadings give a bird’s-eye view of major sections. References to extended parallel passages are often included in the subheadings themselves, while single-verse cross references appear in footnotes. Footnotes contain comments that are usually quite helpful (as at Exodus 13:8 on “Red Sea” and 25:7 on “ephod”); they are supplemented by a Word List elsewhere in the volume. Some of the footnotes, however, would have been more useful had they appeared earlier. The one on “the LORD,” for example, is not given until Exodus 6:3 (compare its embryonic form at 3:14) and perhaps reflects the historico-critical viewpoint of one or more of the translators. It would have been more pertinent and helpful to the average reader, it seems to me, at Genesis 2:7.

By and large, poetic sections of the Old Testament are printed in poetic format, usually with good (and sometimes downright lyrical) effect (for examples, see Genesis 2:23; Numbers 6:24–26; Isaiah 55:1 f.). Prose passages in poetic sections, especially in the prophetic canon, also generally read well (for instance, Jeremiah 18:18; 31:31–34). But when allegory is interpreted in the text itself (as in Ecclesiastes 12:1–7), even in the admirable interest of clarity, the reader may feel cheated out of his right to come to his own conclusions. Sometimes the poetry has a strangely clipped style (as in Psalm 100) or descends to the level of doggerel (see Samson’s statement in Judges 14:18). And when lyrical prose bordering on poetry is rendered as ordinary prose, the results can be dull indeed (e.g., Genesis 1:27). In fact, the criteria used for distinguishing between poetry and prose are not immediately evident. The book of Proverbs, printed as poetry by most modern versions (RSV, for example), is given as poetry only in chapter 8 and in 30:1–4 in the GNB.

Other features of format that enhance the appearance and usefulness of this translation are the line drawings (already familiar to readers of the GNB New Testament) and maps included in some editions; lists of names set in tabular arrangement (see First Kings 4:1–19), though again, not consistently (1 Chron. 1–9); and the use of italics for certain purposes (for example, to indicate source materials used or referred to by authors of Old Testament books, as in Second Kings 8:23).

As might be expected, the translators everywhere show their awareness of the great advances made in Old Testament scholarship in recent years. By rendering the traditional “that” as “how” in Genesis 6:5, they have correctly highlighted the sinfulness of the people who lived before the flood. “Couldn’t” in Genesis 19:11 and “Make way!” in 41:43 are surely right, while “lovely” and “weak,” two viable options for a word in 29:17, are both preserved, one in the text and the other in a footnote. At Second Kings 17:4 the footnote reading is preferable to the text; the situation is more debatable at Ezekiel 14:14 (where, incidentally, the footnote will only confuse the average Bible student familiar with the Old Testament Daniel). “Palaces decorated with ivory” in Psalm 45:8 is right on target. And the relation (however near or remote, and in whatever direction) between Proverbs 22:17–24:22 and the thirty-proverb schema of the Egyptian Wisdom of Amenemope is accented by the GNB’s unfootnoted “thirty” in Proverbs 22:20 and the numbered subheadings throughout the rest of the section.

Is the GNB Old Testament a translation or a paraphrase? If by “paraphrase” we mean “à la Living Bible” and if by “translation” we mean “à la New American Standard Bible,” the answer is, “Neither.” It would seem that the GNB translation team followed rather closely the principles set forth by Eugene Nida in a number of works, primarily The Theory and Practice of Translation (1969), some of the main concepts of which were conveniently summarized in 1972 in the Journal of Biblical Literature (91/1, pp. 73–89).

To avoid the Scylla of literalism (“formal correspondence,” to use Nida’s term) and the Charybdis of paraphrase, Nida tacks carefully between the two in a ship named “Dynamic Equivalence.” According to Nida, formal correspondence and paraphrase are equally “bad,” while dynamic equivalence is “good” (Theory, p. 173). Dynamic equivalence occurs when a modern rendering produces the same (or an equivalent) effect in the mind and heart of a modern reader as the original text did in the mind and heart of an ancient reader. Writes Nida: “The ultimate test of a translation must be based upon three major factors: (1) the correctness with which the receptors understand the message of the original (that is to say, its ‘faithfulness to the original’ as determined by the extent to which people really comprehend the meaning), (2) the ease of comprehension, and (3) the involvement a person experiences as the result of the adequacy of the form of the translation. Perhaps no better compliment could come to a translator than to have someone say, ‘I never knew before that God spoke my language’” (Theory, p. 173).

When used by a translator with the skills and perception of Eugene Nida, dynamic equivalence as an overriding translational principle can be quite helpful. But when ordinary, workaday translators (however well trained in technique) like me, or (dare I say it?) like the GNB Old Testament translating team, attempt to use the principle of dynamic equivalence in a thoroughgoing way, the results can be decidedly mixed. The pitfalls are legion.

Here are a few examples from Genesis 1. “The heavens and the earth” (1:1) is rendered “the universe.” Not bad, you say. Perhaps—but maybe for some readers “universe” would (a) overstate what the text intends to say, (b) lead to the assumption that people in ancient times conceived of infinite space in the same way that most people do today, or (c) cause them to miss the literary beauty or catchword significance (1:2, after all, begins with “the earth”) of the more literal translation. In the light of such problems, is “the universe” really a better rendering than “the heavens and the earth”?

In 1:2, “darkness was upon the face of the deep” is translated as follows: “The raging ocean that covered everything was engulfed in total darkness.” Not bad. you say again. Perhaps—but are the extra flourishes (“raging,” “engulfed,” “total”) a genuine improvement over the more traditional rendering? I hold no brief for word-for-word translation, and I agree completely with Nida and other translators that we have far too long emphasized the grammar and syntax and idioms of source languages to the virtual neglect of the grammar and syntax and idioms of target languages. I suppose my main quarrel with an overstress on dynamic equivalence is that it leans far more toward paraphrase than toward formal correspondence.

It also tends to make explicit what may be intentionally implicit in the text. In Genesis 1:16, for example, the GNB renders “greater light” and “lesser light” as “sun” and “moon.” Nothing wrong with that, you say; it’s more clear than the traditional rendering. Quite so—and that’s the problem. The translator must always ask, “Why did the writer use this particular form of expression rather than another? Was he trying to be obscure, or quaint, or clever, or what?”

In this case, many commentators believe that the author of Genesis 1 deliberately avoided using “sun” and “moon” because those luminaries were universally worshiped by ancient pagans. “Sun” and “moon” could therefore be misunderstood as proper names for deities, and so Genesis 1 calls them “greater light” and “lesser light” to remind its readers that the sun and moon, far from being gods themselves, are inanimate objects created by the one true God. If it be objected that very few modern readers would catch subtleties of that kind, I would of course agree. On the other hand, the more perceptive reader may wonder why “greater light” and “lesser light” were used by the author, turn to a commentary or two, and increase his overall understanding of the purpose and meaning of the passage. Furthermore, “greater light” and “lesser light” are not uncommunicative terms (what else could they be but sun and moon in this context?), and I for one would rather restrain my natural impulse to be overly clear in translation than run the risk of blowing an author’s polemic cover.

Because there is no such thing as one-to-one lexical, grammatical, syntactical, or idiomatic correspondence between any two given languages, no translation is perfect; translators constantly find themselves resorting to agonizing compromise. The GNB has broken fresh ground for us in this regard in the crux interpretum of 1:2, “the Spirit of God,” which it has rendered “the power of God” and footnoted “or the spirit of God; or a wind from God; or an awesome wind.” “Power of God” is a thoughtful and commendable way of solving a difficult problem and preserving the ambiguity that many have seen in this verse. The GNB does not always translate “spirit” as “power,” of course (see, for example, Judges 3:10; Psalm 51:11).

A final word about dynamic equivalence. If one of its purposes is to reproduce in the modern reader the same kind of emotional response that the ancient reader is assumed to have had, I don’t see how a measure of vulgarity can be avoided in certain instances (contra Nida, Theory, page 29). The GNB has not been entirely successful in this regard (see First Samuel 20:30).

But perhaps we have already said enough about the difficulties of achieving the admirable goals of dynamic equivalence, especially when it veers off sharply in the direction of paraphrase. How has the GNB Old Testament fared in the area of interpretation?

Quite well, by and large. “Ritually clean” (Gen. 7:2), “sacred tree(s)” (12:6; 18:1), “unfaithful” (Hos. 1:2), and a host of other felicitous renderings are cases in point. At times, however, the GNB forecloses on interpretive options, often without footnoting the alternatives: “Spain” and “Rhodes” (Gen. 10:4), “innocent children” (Jon. 4:11), “commits adultery, takes a bath” (Prov. 30:20), “the first person” (Judg. 11:31), and so forth. On the other hand, another fine example of how the ambiguity of a text can be preserved in translation is in Psalm 23:6, “and your house will be my home as long as I live.”

Whether because of publication deadlines or for some other reason, the GNB Old Testament suffers from certain inexplicable (at least to me!) inconsistencies. Why should “tree that gives life” in Genesis 2:9 become “tree of life” in 3:22, 24, especially since “[tree that gives knowledge of] what is good and what is bad” is so rendered throughout the account (2:9, 17; 3:4, 22)? Why “a hundred and fifty days” in 7:24 but “150 days” three verses later? Why “that” in 12:1 and “which” in 18:21? Why “who made” in 14:19 but “Maker of” three verses later? Why “because” in Exodus 20:7 but “for” in the exact parallel in Deuteronomy 5:11? Similar examples abound, and I get the impression that such differences are due less to a desire for elegant variation than to pressures leading to editorial haste.

Although unable to break free from traditional renderings entirely (e.g., “outward appearance,” First Samuel 16:7; “give you peace,” Numbers 6:26), the GNB Old Testament has abandoned many terms and phrases it considered archaic or hard to understand. For example, Noah’s “ark” has become a “boat” (Gen. 6:14), while the “ark of the covenant” is now the “Covenant Box.” “Leprosy” is “dreaded skin disease” or “mildew” (Lev. 13–15) depending on whether human beings or inanimate objects are affected (at Leviticus 13:47 a helpful footnote indicates that the same Hebrew word means both “dreaded skin disease” and “mildew”). “Be strong and of good courage” (Josh. 1:6, 9) is now “Be determined and confident.” If a hallowed sermon title has been lost because of this last change, never fear: the “Preacher” of Ecclesiastes is now “the Philosopher” anyway!

The way in which the GNB Old Testament handles matters of introduction and theology (including Old Testament-New Testament interrelations), while basically conservative, will not please all evangelicals. Genesis 37:28 makes explicit the fact that it was “the brothers” of Joseph who pulled him out of the cistern and sold him to the Ishmaelites (in conformity with Acts 7:9). In Isaiah 7:14, however, “young woman” appears in the text, and a footnote explains why, in the translators’ opinion, Matthew 1:23 used “virgin” in quoting from the Isaiah passage (for an excellent and judicious treatment of this matter, see Herbert M. Wolf’s article in JBL 91/4 [1972], pages 449–56). Psalm 2:12 offers a conjectural reading and relegates “Kiss the Son” to a footnote, where we are told that the Hebrew text is unclear. Genesis 49:10 is capably handled in the text, although the reading “Shiloh” should have at least been mentioned in the footnote. The rendering of Job 19:25, while abandoning the traditional “Redeemer” rendering, gets the general sense across in the following paraphrase: “I know there is someone in heaven/who will come at last to my defense.” Footnotes at Job 24:18 and 27:13 tell us that although Zophar is not named in the text, the speeches that begin at those points are “usually” assigned to him (see a similar footnote at 26:5). What we are not told is who those assigners are or why “usually” was chosen over “sometimes” (a more circ*mspect word). Chapters 40–55 of Isaiah are pronounced exilic in the introduction to that book.

In sum, then, the GNB Old Testament is a mélange of good and bad qualities, of traditional and non-traditional characteristics, of brilliant and less-than-brilliant renderings, of conservative and not-so-conservative theology. It bears the stamp of seasoned experts (like Robert Bratcher and Eugene Nida) as well as of lesser-known translators and stylists. If my critique of it seems unduly harsh, perhaps it’s because I have chosen to point out what I consider to be its faults rather than to rehearse its obvious virtues. Above all, I fully recognize how much I as a translator (and reviewer!) need to strive for that gracious humility and generous openness so beautifully exemplified to me personally by Nida and his co-workers (see also Nida, Theory, page 186).

The real question, however, is whether the Good News Bible has that delicate balance of accuracy, clarity, dignity, and maturity required to make it a seminal or dominant version in our “golden age” of Bible translation. And only time can answer that one.

Paul D. Steeves is assistant professor of history and director of Russian studies at Stetson University in Deland, Florida. He has the Ph.D. from the University of Kansas and specializes in modern Russian history.

This year Russian Christians are celebrating the 100th anniversary of the translation of the Bible into their common language. In a country like the United States, where there are a dozen Bibles for each church member, such an anniversary might occasion only passing notice. But Russian evangelicals publicly anticipated the celebration of this centennial for many months. Their enthusiasm arises from two causes. First, their history as evangelicals in Russia is inseparably joined with the history of the Bible in Russian. Second, the continued scarcity of Bibles in their language gives the Russians special appreciation for a precious possession. We will do well to share their joy this year.

The land of the Russians had been officially Christian for almost nine hundred years before the whole of the Scriptures appeared in words they could understand. From 988, when Grand Prince Vladimir of Kiev declared Byzantine Orthodoxy to be the religion of his realm, until 1917, when the last tsar fell, the Russian state and the Orthodox Church remained in close union. The religious history of Russia paralleled that of the most Catholic countries of the West. A highly liturgical religion incorporated all citizens; all were baptized by the priest as infants and were expected to present themselves at mass at least annually. The mass and the church books were in an archaic language, Church Slavonic, which the Russian people understood hardly better than Europeans comprehended Latin. No Protestant revolt, crying for a religion of the Book, spawned evangelical faith in Russian hearts. And no secularizing Enlightenment undermined the union of church and state. The autocratic tsar reigned as head of both.

The first steps in the preparation of the Russian Bible were instigated by Tsar Alexander I. This pietistic ruler sponsored the creation of the Russian Bible Society on the day in 1812 that Napoleon fled in defeat from Russian territory. The Russian society was the first offspring of the British and Foreign Bible Society, progenitor of those societies now affiliated in the United Bible Societies. The first product of the British and Russian cooperation, the Russian New Testament, appeared in 1823.

Two years later, Alexander died. His extremely reactionary brother, Nicholas I, dissolved the Russian Bible Society and halted work on translation of the Old Testament. Persecution of non-Orthodox religions intensified under his hand.

Nicholas’s attempt to keep modern ideas out of Russia ended in the disaster of the Crimean War. His son, Alexander II, accepted the inevitability of reform in Russia. In 1862, one year after he emancipated the serfs, Alexander II permitted the revival of the Russian Bible Society. That revival led directly to the appearance of evangelicalism in Russia.

Colporteurs of the Bible Society spread throughout the Russian Empire, distributing New Testaments. One such colporteur, Iakov Deliakov, appeared with his books in the city of Tiflis (now Tbilisi) in the Caucasus Mountains of south Russia. Nikita Voronin took a New Testament from Deliakov, began reading it, and soon experienced spiritual rebirth. On August 20, 1867, Voronin became the first Russian “Baptist” when he received believer’s baptism from a German Baptist.

Within a decade, several thousand Russians in the southern and western regions of the empire had become “Baptists” as God’s Word in Russian continued to bear fruit. One participant in the movement of evangelicalism later described the work the Word accomplished in Russian hearts: “Peasants, beginning to read the Bible, began to notice the incongruity between the teachings of Christ and life around them.… Serious study of [the Bible] worked a miracle: people gave up drinking vodka, smoking, profanity—they were born again and were made completely different people.”

Meanwhile, work on the translation of the Old Testament moved forward, under the inspiration of Orthodox Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow. In 1876, the glorious day of its completion arrived. For the first time the whole Russian Bible appeared in one volume, in what was called the “Synodal Version.”

Six years passed before a significant edition of this Bible left the press. In 1882, the Russian Bible Society printed 20,000 copies, with money donated by a nobleman who had been regenerated under the preaching of the Englishman Lord Radstock, a prominent adherent of the Plymouth Brethren. This nobleman, Colonel Pashkov, also financed the distribution of the Scriptures and evangelical tracts through his “Society for the Encouragement of Religious Reading.”

The rapid spread of a new, biblical faith soon alarmed the authorities, and in 1884 Pashkov was exiled to Paris. Inside Russia, twenty years of severe repression of evangelicals began. It was illegal for a Russian to be a “Baptist.” No more Russian Bibles were permitted until political revolution in 1905 forced the tsar to guarantee religious toleration for the evangelicals. In 1907 the censor approved the printing of the second, small edition of the Synodal Version, but with the restriction that it be in large, “pulpit” volumes, so that it would be difficult for evangelicals to carry the Scriptures with them in their incessant (albeit illegal) evangelistic journeyings. “But the Word of God grew and multiplied.” By the time of World War I, evangelicals numbered over 100,000.

The Communist Revolution of 1917 aided the evangelicals in their quest for the printed Word. Many more copies of Russian Scriptures were printed during the 1920s than had appeared under tsarism. With money raised in America, Russian evangelicals printed and distributed 45,000 Bibles and 30,000 New Testaments from plates made by photographic reduction of the old Synodal Version. By 1929, the fruits of God’s Word in Russian amounted to more than two million evangelical believers.

Under Stalin, the Communist government reversed the fortunes of believers. In 1929 an edition of 10,000 Bibles printed by the Baptist Union was confiscated just before it was to be distributed. During the years of terror, thousands languished in prison, but the Word sustained them and they kept the Word. Only after Stalin’s death did the government permit the Orthodox and Baptist churches further printings of Scripture: 60,000 Bibles and 25,000 New Testaments in 1956–57. Then for ten years Russian Christians sought in vain to publish more.

Since 1968, about 35,000 Bibles and more than 20,000 New Testaments in Russian have been legally published. Several thousand more were illegally produced on a printing press operated by Baptists until it was seized in October, 1974. In addition, portions of Russian Scriptures have been printed in the West and taken unofficially, sometimes illegally, into the Soviet Union.

The Bible in Russian is but the beginning of the story of proclaiming the Word of God within the Soviet Union. Russian is the mother tongue of only half the citizens of that country. More than a hundred other languages are spoken within its borders. In ninety of these, no part of the Bible is available. Translation of the Scriptures into most of the other languages was not begun until after the Russian Bible appeared, for various political reasons. Since the Revolution, small editions (10,000 copies) of New Testaments have been produced for Ukrainians, Latvians, Armenians, and Lithuanians inside the Soviet Union. Preparation of the Scriptures in the non-Russian languages deserves the attention of those who know the power of God.

In sum, while precise figures are unavailable, it can be estimated that fewer than one million whole Russian Bibles and New Testaments have appeared on Soviet territory since the Revolution. That means there is a scarcity of Scripture for the well over three million evangelicals currently active in the Soviet Union, not to mention the more than 30 million Orthodox Christians. On occasion, handwritten Bibles can be seen in a Russian church, lovingly transcribed from another’s copy or from foreign radio broadcasts.

But the Russians know how to be grateful for the copies they have. The work of the Word of the Lord does not depend on the number of Bibles available. Each year thousands continue to come to new life in Christ in the Soviet Union because the believers there faithfully proclaim the Gospel. Attempts to introduce Bibles into the Soviet Union by illegal means do not serve God’s work well.

Evangelicals in the West can join in the Russians’ celebration and support them in ways that do not violate Soviet laws and Christian morality. More than fifteen years ago, Baptist leader Alexander Karev complained to Professor Steve Durasoff: “Many Christians visit our country from the West. Why doesn’t each one bring a Russian Bible with him and leave it with us? You have failed us.” Tourists entering the Soviet Union are required to declare at customs all literature they are carrying with them, including, of course, Bibles. Generally, one copy of the Bible is permitted; on occasion (as happened to me once) customs guards confiscate a Bible, claiming that the book is forbidden in the country. But there is no published law to that effect, and the claim is manifestly untrue since Bibles are legally published. One suspects that confiscated Bibles bring a handsome profit on the “black market,” where the price of a Bible can rise to over a hundred dollars.

Single copies of Bibles can also be sent by post to the Soviet Union, usually more successfully from countries other than the United States. One Baptist minister in Moscow recently confirmed this to me personally and requested that Americans mail him some Bibles.

There are promising signs that the United Bible Societies of Europe will be able to provide Bibles for Russians in the future. The Evangelical Christian-Baptist Union maintains contacts with the UBS, which recently received permission to ship to the U.S.S.R. 3,000 Bibles in the German language, the mother tongue of many Soviet Baptists. The Russians are patiently praying that this will be a first step toward the eventual importation of Russian Bibles. But the work of the UBS is hampered by a shortage of money for Scriptures for Communist countries. It also appears to be bothered by the illegal activities of “Bible smugglers.”

Russian Christians, both evangelical and Orthodox, now anticipate the preparation of a new Russian translation of the Bible that will modernize the language of the Synodal Version. The UBS is cooperating in this work. In 1969 the Leningrad Orthodox Theological Academy appointed a group to begin work on the New Testament, using the Greek text prepared by the UBS in 1968. Recognizing the lexical shortcomings of the old version, the general secretary of the Evangelical Christian-Baptist Union, A. M. Bychkov, observed: “We support these helpful beginnings of the Russian Orthodox Church and we believe that God will bless the great work of scholars for his glory and the benefit of immortal souls.” At present, no Russian Baptists are sufficiently educated to participate in translation work.

During the last 100 years, “the Word of the Lord grew mightily and prevailed” on Russian soil. Bychkov declared in 1974: “Let the centennial jubilee of the Russian Bible be observed in all our churches with prayers of thanksgiving.” Let us, Western evangelicals, rejoice with them. God’s Word in Russian will continue to accomplish the purpose of him who gave it.

Paul D. Steeves is assistant professor of history and director of Russian studies at Stetson University in Deland, Florida. He has the Ph.D. from the University of Kansas and specializes in modern Russian history.