While racing across a continent, nineteenth century Americans managed to look simultaneously toward the future and the past. One eye beheld the siren charms of utopian kingdoms, while the other gazed fondly (if dimly) back toward the nobler, purer ages of earlier times. Both secularists and saints were capable of this Janus vision, but in Christian terms the vision was either that of creating a New Jerusalem or restoring a tarnished and corrupted one. "Restoration" became for many a blessed word even as it became for Christianity in America a vigorous thrust. The history of the church, as one recent title makes clear, is a history of great epochs: the apostolic age, the apostacies, the Dark Ages, the Reformation, and - in the fullness of time - the Restoration [3].
The movement associated with the names of Alexander Campbell, Walter Scott, and Barton Stone is the strongest member of the Protestant American restoration family. From the Campbells' "Declaration and Address" of 1809 issued in western Pennsylvania through the association with Scott in the twenties and with Stone in the thirties, the movement flourished in the river valleys and along the mountain ridges of America. And like so many other efforts in Christianity's long history, this one was intended to heal or transcend sectarian divisiveness, certainly not to contribute to it. Adherents were to be simply "Christians" or possibly "Disciples of Christ," but surely not bearers of such manmade tags as "Lutheran" or "Methodist" or "Quaker." So the Disciples grew, starting a college (Bethany) in 1840, forming a Missionary Society in 1849, passing the million mark in membership by the turn of the century, joining the Fed6ral Council of Churches in 1908 and the National Council in 1950, participating in the 1960s in the Consultation on Church Union, and in general taking steady, unequivocal steps toward greater denomination-hood!
Meanwhile - and a critical "meanwhile" it is - other restorationists of the Campbell-Scott-Stone tradition declined to take those steady, unequivocal steps. They held back from national conventions and societies; they refrained from cooperatives or unions that seemed not to have clear New Testament precedents. They rejected such modernistic non-apostolic innovations as Sunday Schools, resident pastors, and "mechanical music." Gradually through the second half of the nineteenth century, a sense of difference, even of distrust, grew between the more institutional and the more anti-institutional parties. By the beginning of the present century, the churches of Christ knew themselves to be of another mind, of a different fellowship.
The church of Christ is not a denomination. It is the Kingdom of God. It is NON-DENOMINATIONAL and CHRIST-CENTERED by its very nature. It is neither Catholic nor Protestant. It is not controlled by an ecclesiastical hierarchy, since every member is a priest under Christ, the High Priest 1 Peter 2: 9.
So reads one paragraph of a two page advertisement placed in a national magazine "by individual members of the church of Christ" [4].
In addition to sounding several notes characteristic of this "brotherhood," the advertisement points up a difficulty in accurately tracing the growth of a group without headquarters or "hierarchy." No regular statistics are available; no denominational data banks stand ready to supply percentages or growth charts. The federal Bureau of the Census is helpful in I 9o6, 19 16, and 1926, less helpful in 1936, and virtually silent thereafter. Church of Christ members have themselves compiled local or area directories to assist others in finding their way to a New Testament house of worship [see 6].
They, no less than the census taker, however, have been confronted with the unenviable duty of deciding which organizations genuinely qualify as "churches of Christ." In some cases, any minister or church whose view was clearly premillennial was excluded from the printed lists, though the compiler of a Louisiana directory deliberately included them--with the appropriate notation -- "That faithful brethren might not be deceived" [7]. A compiler of the Western Church Directory found it increasingly difficult over the years to be certain regarding the "soundness or unsoundness" of the churches he listed. In the 1940s and 1950s he was able at least to exclude any church known to indulge in instrumental music. By 1965 he was not even sure about that, merely noting that "A few may be listed who have been influenced by recent modernistic developments and philosophies" [9]. He reassured himself that the visitor to the individual church could make up his own mind on these questions - as well as on the use (or no) of the individual cup in communion, the willingness (or no) to support orphans' homes, and so on. He also conceded that some of the churches listed "may not 'fellowship' others in the same town - the compiler is not able to determine these matters" [9]. By 1968, the weary worker decided simply to present his lists without comment; the newcomer would, in any case, make up his own mind whether he had indeed entered a true church of Christ.
Other lists followed their own criteria of inclusion. A 1925 "Year Book" issued in Dallas, Texas, helped the faithful find those preachers opposed to Sunday Schools.
In order to meet the demand, we began listing the names of preachers who would unite in that they were opposed to the dividing of an assembly into classes for the purpose of teaching the Bible and opposed to having women teach these classes. Beyond this, many of the preachers listed herein are unknown to us [8].
Thus are born parties, wings, sects, and churches. Like Cato enumerating those worthy to be citizens of Rome, the compiler (and as we shall see, even more the editor) became himself an engine for maintaining an old orthodoxy or for creating a new one.
Directories could also show where churches were already in good supply and where the mission field clearly awaited an enterprising evangelist. Many state and regional directories noted all major towns bereft of a church of Christ. In 1940, for example, over forty major cities in the United States (with a population of 50,000 or more) did not contain a single congregation of this persuasion [24]. The areas that beckoned most were the Northeast and North Central United States; two decades later they still beckoned.
For while the churches of Christ constitute a national movement, as do the Disciples of Christ, they have been largely a border state phenomenon. In 1906, the census indicated a total of 2,649 churches of Christ in America. Of that total, approximately one half were in the states of Tennessee and Texas. A decade later when the churches numbered over 5,000, more than one half were in four states: Texas, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Oklahoma. While the movement prospered also in the Deep South, it has never been strongest there. (In 1926 South Carolina reported only five churches in the entire state.) It is in the mountain regions of West Virginia and Tennessee, the Ozarks of Missouri and Arkansas, and the plains of central Texas that people have proved most receptive. The geographical pattern in 1926 remained essentially unchanged as national membership climbed toward one half million.
By the mid-1940s when about 10,000 churches were associated with the brotherhood, Texas and Tennessee could still account for one third of that total. Arkansas and Oklahoma had the next largest representation, followed by Alabama, Kentucky, and Missouri. Oklahoma could boast of at least one church of Christ in each county, but nearly one half of the counties in the nation lacked such a church.
In the 1960s the Far West, particularly California, altered to a degree the border state preeminence. Nonetheless, a truly national character geographically continues to elude the churches of Christ as it does the Mormons, for the Northeast and the North Central states remain largely aloof to penetration by this wing of Restorationism. New York in the mid-sixties had fewer than forty churches, Minnesota sixteen, and North Dakota only four. (Texas, by contrast, had more than two thousand [see 26].)
A singular effort of the present decade seeks to break down these remaining inhospitable barriers. The Exodus movement (as it has come to be called) among churches of Christ involves moving an entire congregation into an urban or suburban area of the North where few if any co-religionists are to be found. The congregation's advance men seek out jobs, housing, and church sites long before the move is made. Pros and cons of various cities are weighed, a decision is reached, and West Islip, Long Island (1963), or Somerville, New Jersey (1966), or Stamford, Connecticut (1966) suddenly finds a new and active mission station in its midst. Within a remarkably short time, converts are won, a church is built, and dozens of Texas or Tennessee families have made a new home. Exodus "transplants" are also under study for Canada as well as for overseas [10] .
What of the total strength of this nondenomination in America? It is, of course, easier to count churches than members, but there is limited precision in either case. There are probably 12,000 to 14,000 churches of Christ in America today (1969) with an average membership of 100 to 150. The total membership rests, therefore, very much on the actual average per church. Computing on such shifting foundations, one may place the membership in America at something less than two million [see 14; 11].
The expansion abroad has been hampered by the absence of national supervision and support. Local churches have nonetheless sent missionaries north to Canada, south to Mexico and around the world. The churches' efforts are especially strong in Japan (over 70 native congregations), the Philippines (nearly 200 congregations), India (about 100), Australia (32), and in Italy (44). Except for Mexico, mission work in Central and South America is surprisingly light; not surprisingly, it is also light in the USSR. It is generally strong in Africa, especially in Nigeria; in South Africa the churches are designated "European," "Native," and "Colored." Like ancient Mithraism, the churches of Christ appear where American armies are placed, thus there are congregations in such unlikely places as the Azores, Greenland, Afghanistan, and Guam. The total missionary endeavor is still a relatively young one and, as previously indicated, still an unorganized one. Even so, there is evidence that church of Christ missions are sufficient in both number and force to have a broadening influence on those local congregations who have sent them out.
Turning from quantitative matters to questions of faith and order, we examine not the extent of the brotherhood's dominion but its nature and its promise. Quickly put, the most intriguing question regarding the churches of Christ in 1969 is this: what's happening? Is there any sense in which this scattered, fractured, and fractious group is where the action is? To a surprising extent, the answer to that question is "yes."
To be sure, the old cliche's are not fully retired as - after a century of hard service - they so richly deserve to be. The old concentration on the minutiae, the anise and cumin of the law, is not yet completely shed, though some rather rapid molting is taking place. The exclusivism, the Pharisaism, still has its defenders, though fewer voices grow more shrill. It is worth illustrating each of these vestiges, if only to appreciate the remarkable achievement of casting off their burden.
First the cliche's. The weariest of all that hoary lot is surely the question of instrumental music. The noble aim to be "a New Testament church" degenerated all too soon into a quarrel about trained choirs, pianos, and pitch pipes. Congregational singing and hymn books were fine (in Nashville, the Gospel Advocate of 1912 advertised "Seventy-Seven Sweet Songs" for sale); mechanical music was not. The basis of the contention was of course an interpretation of the New Testament (e.g., of Ephesians 5: 19) which enjoined the singing of psalms but nowhere enjoined training choirs or blowing horns. If Greek scholars and homiletic exegetes debated the matter at length, little would be lost. But it all became a matter of denominational honor, a testy shibboleth, an occasion (in Mennonite terms) for shunning the erring brothers. Indeed, the introduction of mechanical music into a church in St. Louis in 1869 is regularly pointed to as a major factor in the rupture of Campbell's movement.
One hundred years later the disharmonious matter is not yet laid to rest. But there is at the same time a desire to soften the issue or to build a footbridge across the chasm which it created or, on the part of some, to forget the whole thing. Like Alexander Campbell himself, his spiritual descendants wage most of their battles by the pen. The journals and the newsletters provide - along with annual lectures at the colleges - what cohesion the brotherhood has. These also provide most of the clues regarding shifting views on instrumental music.
In St. Louis, Missouri, W. Carl Ketcherside edits and publishes the monthly Mission Messenger. Formerly an eloquent defender of the anti-instrument position, by 1968 Ketcherside thought it time to recapture "that spirit of brotherly love which transcends divergent views about the instrument. . . . The question of instrumental music will continue to be discussed, he acknowledged, and that is fine. Churches will continue in practices long familiar and dear to them, and this is wholly appropriate. But all of us, he writes, can transfer this aged issue from the box labeled "Differences Which Divide" to the box named "Differences Which Do Not Divide."
The truth is that both sides in the controversy ought to examine anew their debate notes and sermon outlines and set fire to most of them and start over. The years have produced a lot of chaff and little wheat in either partisan granary. And this has made for a lot of sawdust and cornflake sermons [18:115].
The most immediate benefit of such a new spirit would be on the foreign mission field. There, the editor sadly notes, "We have confused many simple native peoples by transporting our American feuds to their lands, for which they are not temperamentally, historically, or traditionally prepared. You have to grow up in the very midst of our mixed-up mess for it to make any sense . . . at all" [18:119 ]. Similarly, Leroy Garrett, editor of the Restoration Review (in Denison, Texas) argues that there is only one way out of the endless, fruitless debate: namely,
for all of us to recognize that instrumental music is a matter of individual or congregational conscience. . . . We can all be one united church, with some congregations having the instrument and others not, just as we can have some supporting Herald of Truth [radio program] and others not, and still be a united people [23].
Other examples could be offered of hackneyed arguments which have lost their zest as well as their point: arguments over cooperative support of orphanages, colleges, and homes for the aged; arguments against the "preacher system" that installs a settled pastor where there should only be traveling evangelists; arguments regarding the weekly observance of the Lord's Supper, the saving efficacy of baptism (by immersion), the place of Sunday schools and mission societies - and many more. The temper of the debates in an earlier day is illustrated by the words of an Alabama evangelist around the turn of the century:
Bible schools do the work of lazy churches; the pastor does the work of lazy elders; the Sunday School does the work of lazy parents; the missionary society is a lazy, cowardly set of preachers trying to hire a more industrious and more heroic and poorer set to do their work [1].
But the temper two generations later has shifted, and that is the real point. Each side knows the proof texts of the other by heart, and the game for many no longer seems worth playing.
The minutiae, the adiaphora, secondly, are simply not regarded with the same seriousness in 1969 as before. It is still preferable to spell "churches of Christ" with a lower case initial "c." It is still fashionable to avoid giving titles to a minister such as "Reverend." So he is called "brother," but to keep "brother" from itself becoming a title, one remembers to use a lower case "b." The debating points to be scored in biblical proof texting have little to do with the larger aims of the Restoration movement. Yet each variant in practice or in understanding has often resulted in a charge of perfidy or in another costly division within the fellowship. One writer observed, as speaking in tongues threatened to produce another separation or schism:
the Church of Christ, having failed to develop a philosophy for handling differences of opinion, is fated to pass endlessly from one unnecessary tragedy to another" [19]. That philosophy is still undeveloped, but a pragmatic tolerance seems more pervasive than before.
Thirdly, the sense of exclusiveness, the assurance of truth possessed in the round, the satisfaction with being Christ's true and only church - this spirit still moves to and fro across the land, but now it does not go unchallenged. Almost proverbial has been the penchant of these Christians to be polemical in their dealing with all other Christians. They were right; all others were wrong. They understood the New Testament and obeyed it; others did neither. Arguments and answers and biblical texts were memorized, even by children, to meet every counter position, to parry every heterodox thrust. So armed with the sword of the spirit, it was easy to put in their place all Methodists, Baptists, Disciples, Catholics, Christian Scientists, and, on occasion, even pagans. A Workbook on Some Denominational Errors, copyrighted in 1961, is in its third printing, and it is only one of a long line of such volumes [2]. We are the Lord's church, not a denomination. We are the Kingdom of God and are not to be confused with or catalogued alongside the potpourri of America's nationally organized religions [see 12].
But the best evidence of church of Christ Pharisaisin is the inside attack now being mounted against it. M. Norvel Young, president of Pepperdine College, cleverly strikes at the creeping denominationalism within, a spirit which excludes and causes us to "lose the glorious vision of the universal church of God --past, present, and future." We speak, says Young, of "church of Christ preachers" instead simply of "gospel preachers." We associate with "members of the church" rather than simply with "Christians." And we write about a "congregation of the church of Christ." He adds: "Why be redundant? Or are we really saying 'churches of the church of Christ denomination.' I hope not, but I am sure that many of our neighbors hear that whether we intend to say it or not." An additional unkind cut directed at the New Testament church itself is Young's casual comment that the expression "church of Christ" does not even appear in the New Testament [13].
The hottest blast, however, comes from the pen of a young Ph.D. teaching government at Austin College in Sherman, Texas. Raised in the "non-instrument church," David R. Reagan contributed an article to the Restoration Review under the heading "Pharisaism in the Church of Christ." His words read in part like a new--and useful-- Prayer of General Confession:
. . . we of the Church of Christ have killed the spirit of New Testament Christianity! Yes, the sin of Pharisaism is on our hearts. . . . We have been obsessed for over a century with a legalistic restoration of New Testament Christianity . . . we have been engulfed in a narrow concern for the restoration of outward forms and external appearances. We have devoted our energies to superficialities . . . we have been more guilty of Pharisaism than were the original Pharisees themselves. . . . We have endlessly stressed the passing of the Old Law, but . . . failed to realize... that it was not simply replaced with a New Law [20].
Professor Reagan need only have added and there is no health in us."
While, therefore, the old cliche`s are still heard, the petty legalisms still urged, and the assured superiority still cherished, none of them goes unchallenged and none seems in the best of health. For the most fascinating and exciting facet of life in the churches of Christ today is not what's happening to the old but what's happening that is new. At least four contemporary developments deserve comment.
First, the powerful leaven of education is clearly responsible for much uneasy movement in the whole denominational loaf. One of the curious anomalies of sectarian life in America is that groups disdaining an educated ministry have nonetheless proceeded to produce an educated laity. The consequent stresses within any ecclesiastical body are acute. This problem is, therefore, not unique to the churches of Christ, but it is aggravated there by the absence of a national leadership which could help close the gap between ministry and laity.
One path for the educated layman, of course, leads away from and out of the church of his youth. Some have chosen this route. But others have chosen the rockier road of criticism, counsel, and friendly (or angry) persuasion from within the fold. Leroy Garrett, in the preface to the 1966 volume of Restoration Review, writes:
The editorials in this volume, as well as a number of guest essays, are invitations to mature criticism of our brotherhood. They are written by responsible, intelligent and concerned men, by brethren who have not left us, but who labor with hope and love for a more spiritual and mature brotherhood. And they are nearly all young Ph.D.'s...[21].
The education of the laity has occurred both at institutions identified with the church of Christ and at the major graduate and research centers in the United States. The churches' own commitment to and support of higher education is growing, auguring well for a narrowing of the education gap in the days ahead. (In many areas, of course, the average educational level of the laity is well below that of the preacher, but the nation's statistical trends argue against this as an enduring norm.)
The oldest college associated with the Restoration movement is Alexander Campbell's Bethany College, founded in 1840 on a hill across from the Campbell home. This school, however, came to reflect the more liberal Disciples of Christ position; as the separation of the churches of Christ widened, so did their affiliation with or affection for Bethany. In 1891 David Lipscomb College (originally Nashville Bible School) was established in Tennessee. It has, now for almost 8o years, been an important recruiting and training center for the churches of Christ. In 1906 Abilene Christian College opened in West Texas, this school becoming a regular four year college during the academic term 1919-20. Two years later Arkansas' Harding College opened, though not until 1934 did it move to its present site, Searcy, taking over the land and buildings of a former Methodist college. On the West Coast where the brotherhood's strength was increasing, Pepperdine College began in Los Angeles in 1937 with more assets both financial and personal than had any other church of Christ college [see 27]. While there are other colleges and academies--but no seminaries--associated with the group, these four exercise the strongest influence on churches of Christ across the nation. That influence is not all in one direction, to be sure, but few of the rigid patterns of the past go unexamined by the collegiate youth.
Secondly, the higher level of publishing is as apparent as it is promising. Editors in the past often emptied the mail bag, reprinted last Sunday's sermon, and attacked the nearest revisionist or "digressive." Or they merely echoed those weary stereotypes already described. The most revealing feature of current literature is not the way in which the old debating points are now made but rather that they are not made at all. What is deemed not worthy of discussion is as suggestive as what is discussed.
The most conspicuous example of this new dimension in the churches' literature is Mission, a monthly publication whose first issue appeared in July, 1967 [15]. This learned journal - and for the first time it does seem possible to apply that designation - has a national editorial board, with publication offices located in Abilene, Texas. The nonparochial nature of its board is strikingly reflected in the nonparochial nature of its articles, book reviews, and even footnotes (which, in the first volume, referred to such people as H. G. Wells, Robert W. Spike, Suzanne K. Langer, and Reinhold Niebuhr). Books are reviewed - thoughtfully, critically - from such publishers as Herder and Herder, Concordia, Seabury Press, and McGraw-Hill. The expected encomium for this unprecedented behavior came from a California reader who dubbed Mission as "definitely the mouthpiece for a far-out liberal movement in the church." The editorial response was calm and direct, as it was to another letter regarding the cherished technique of bible proof-texting. An editor wrote:
Having devoted ourselves so long to correcting the religious errors of others, we have come to intensely resist any notion that we might be wrong on something. . . . We're not intellectually perfect any more than we are morally perfect. We don't make the latter boast; nor should we imply the former. The proper attitude is an openness to learn and receive truth regardless of its source. The ground of the Christian's confidence is not that he knows, but that God knows him [16].
Any patronizing comment on that comment would itself be Pharisaism!
A third development is the quality of issues now receiving full debate among the members of the churches of Christ. That these members are skilled debaters cannot be questioned; that their talents have often been wasted is equally apparent. But now a polemic vigor brings together a sharpened wit and an undiminished zeal to meet in the larger forums: theological, sociological, intellectual, and political. Mission treats the unrest on campus, the neglect of the inner city, the need of underdeveloped nations, "the servant church," Christian pacifism, responsible missions, the grace of God, and the Negro revolution. Pitch pipes, robed choirs, and lower case "b's"? The editors seem not to notice.
In Nashville, Tennessee, another monthly publication, 20th Century Christian, appears under the editorship of M. Norvel Young, president of Pepperdine College. Obviously intended for a more popular audience than Mission, this smaller, slicker periodical shows the same concern about the larger issues: "The Christian in the City" (March, 1966); "Christianity and Science" (August, 1966); "Casting Fire on the Campus" (September, 1967); and "Christ and Race Relations" (July, 1968). If Texas and Tennessee--the proven strongholds--display editorial initiative of this calibre, can the total brotherhood be far behind?
The attention given to the race question may serve as an index to the enlarging agenda of denominational debate. Negro or "colored" churches of Christ have been so designated in the various directories for many decades, thus testifying (a) to the brotherhood's appeal to the Negro community, and (b) to the prevailing pattern of separate churches for separate races. (Mexican, Japanese, and Indian churches of Christ also exist.) But there are integrated congregations, some of them hardly qualifying as exponents of a "far-out liberal movement." A few integrated fellowships appear to have developed gradually, quietly, and without self-conscious campaigns. On the whole, however, the deliberate campaign is now in evidence, having been found to be necessary here as in most other church groups across America.
Colleges affiliated with the brotherhood are seeking to integrate both faculty and student body, the most successful effort in this regard being made by urban Pepperdine. In 1967-68, approximately one fifth of Pepperdine's student body was Negro, a level of integration far above the token number and far above that achieved by other southern California church-related colleges 151. A breakthrough achieved at the faculty level can lead to administrative and even trustee integration in due course.
The Herculean task, to be sure, is in the pew. But the kind of courage displayed in Madison, Tennessee, suggests that even at the congregational level and even in the face of firm opposition and long tradition, racism can be defeated. In Madison the minister, Ira North, admitted the first Negro family that sought membership. Like 90% of American churches, Mr. North's had a building program underway. As in 90% of such situations, he was warned that a policy of integration would ruin his church and leave him with a mountainous financial debt. Like something less than 90% of America's clergy, Mr. North responded:
Our reply was that the Madison congregation started out some 34 years ago in an old garage. When it would rain on the Lord's Day, the Bible school teachers would stand in water, as it ran through the old garage, to teach the Bible. If practicing what we preached meant going back to the old garage and losing our multi-million dollar facility, we were prepared to go back [25: 24f].
Other ministers argued that it is time to give up the "little defenses and rationalizations" that have for so long preserved, indeed embalmed, the practices of discrimination. No more alibis are wanted, only repentance: repentance and restoration. A Negro minister in Detroit, Zebedee Bishop, noted that the sacred word "restoration" might indeed have something to do with restoring a genuine sense of community among men--among all men.
The flight of the church from urban crisis and challenge into suburban society and middle classism will not solve the problems of racial strife. Bi-racial meetings which speak to the needs of our society, college lectureships which discuss critical topics, and religious publications which have the courage to tell the truth can all contribute to the melting religious apartheid in the church and its related institutions [25:28].
The courage and the will to tell the truth are indeed the brightest stars on the brotherhood's horizon. Men in positions of responsible leadership seem willing to tell it like it is - the chief virtue of which is that it may then become what it ought to be. The fourth and final fresh current deserving notice is that the churches of Christ are willing to look at their own foibles and failings - and smile. However seriously they take the work of God and the gospel of Christ -- and there is no reason to suspect the slightest diminution here -- they can take themselves less seriously, with a grain of salt, so to speak. Some younger members have entertained themselves with imaginary bumper stickers: Don't Dance - Park! (learning as have other pietist youth that "you don't have to dance to have a good time"); Attend the Church of My Choice (striking a blow for/against the conformity learned at their elders' knees); and, Fight Eggheadism--Start Your Neighborhood Christian College Today! (joining the battle that students in church-related schools have waged for generations) [22]. A new breeze is blowing, and it is well to remember that the wind bloweth where it listeth.
More penetrating satire is revealed in the sharp quill of "Pseudo Amos," a "nonprophet." In an entertaining but also telling takeoff on the oracles of that other Amos, the "nonprophet" pronounces woes on all the surrounding enemies: Roman Catholics, Presbyterians, Lutherans, and Southern Baptists. Then he comes closer home - as Amos did - to the Disciples. And as Israel enjoyed hearing all the condemnation of her enemies, even Judah, so the churches of Christ could give vent to hearty "Amens! " as the wicked received their just deserts. But then the thunderbolt, for even Israel itself (i.e., churches of Christ) stands condemned. The following stanzas convey the flavor of the whole:
Thus says the Lord:
For three transgressions of the Disciples of Christ
and for four, I will not revoke the punishment;
because they sing with flutes and lyres and organs
and make strange noises unto the Lord.
So I will send a fire upon the prodigal sons of Campbell
and it shall devour the strongholds of Bethany.
Thus says the Lord:
For three transgressions of the Churches of Christ
and for four, I will not revoke the punishment;
because they sell the inner city for suburban sanctuaries
and the ghetto for heated baptistries and soft lights;
they that trample the head of the indigents and immigrants
and turn aside the way of the addicts and alcoholics.
Hear the word that the Lord has spoken against you, O Churches of Christ:
You only have I known of all the churches of the earth;
therefore, I will punish you for all your iniquities.
Woe to us who sit on padden pews
and relax ourselves on theatre-seats;
Who sing spiritual ditties without the sound of the harp
and unlike David, do not invent for ourselves instruments of music;
Who drink Welch's grape juice in individual cups
and anoint ourselves with the finest of cosmetics;
But are not grieved over the ruin of our people!
Therefore, we shall now be the first to go into exile,
and the revelry of those who are relaxed shall pass away [17].
These, then, are the evidences of a new drum beat heard within the marching ranks of the churches of Christ. What direction the march will finally take can only be surmised. But this brotherhood-sect-denomination-church-movement-wing is an energetic youngster among America's ecclesiastical bodies. It has idealism and good health--along with some of the awkwardness of adolescence. Puberty can be a painful, lonely time, but on its other side the creative possibilities of maturity beckon.