Wouldn’t it be great to be able to go back to the good ol’ days?
Many a Presbyterian totes around a mental sketchbook filled with scenes depicting how the church ought to be. Its pastel pictures strikingly resemble how the church used to be, that is, how we remember it used to be.
A quick comparison to the church of today produces piqued exasperation. The soft pastels have been overwhelmed by glaring, clashing neons. The view has changed and not for the better.
We know we can’t blame the church for the accelerated pace of living and for the startling turns in the road. As warned over 35 years ago by Alvin Toffler, Future Shock is our world. However, when we gather with the household of God, we expect to find at least an hour’s respite. We want to sense a certain steadiness, a reassurance that “God’s in his heaven; all’s right with the world.” Instead, the church provides disruptions and disturbances not conceived in those good ol’ days,
Can’t we turn down the conflict? Can’t we reclaim the way it used to be? Can’t we go back to those good ol’ days?
Then again, when are those good ol’ days?
Some remember fondly the 1970s, the days prior to denominational reunion. Then again, weren’t those also the years when the southern church was reeling from a recent church split? And wasn’t the northern church laboring under the threat of its own division?
Perhaps we can journey back to the activist 1960s, when the church really stood for something. Then again, where did we stand on the matter of segregation? And, given the popularity in our circles of a book titled God is Dead, did we even believe in the deity?
How about those golden years of massive church growth, the 1950s? They really were great years, that is for white males. Women and immigrant populations might see those years in a different light.
Let’s go back to the 1940s. Oops. War. Nazism. Holocaust.
The 30s? Depression? The “Machen Split?”
The 20s? The Scopes Monkey trial? The Fundamentalist-Modernist Controversy?
How about the Great Awakenings? Old school, new school split. Old side, new side split.
Let’s go back 300 years to the founding of the first presbytery in America. They fought a few fights then, too (see article by Jim Smylie this issue).
Well, let’s skip back to the Reformation. We were really putting forth a great witness for Christ then, right? Don’t ask the Anabaptists how they would assess our witness.
Well, how about the Bible days? We can go to Corinth, where we find a zoo of immorality and conflict. How about Galatia, where legalism was stripping the church of the gospel of grace? How about Thessalonica, where second-coming fever was turning breadwinners into sluggards? Or in Ephesus, where they abandoned their first love? Or in Pergamum and Thyatira, where they were eating food sacrificed to idols and practicing fornication–yes, practicing till made perfect! How about Laodicea, where they were lukewarm, in danger of being spit out of God’s mouth?
When are those good ol’ days?
They must be somewhere, because the pictures in the sketchbook look so pristine and serene. Then again, they were drawn, after all, by a child. Somewhere along the way that child shed its innocence and now is hurtling headlong into old age. Somewhere along the way, its juvenile art–rich as it was in imagination and idealism–crashed into the real world where grown-ups–moral and godly grown-ups–live messy lives.
Calvin understood the messiness. A healthy dose of Calvinistic realism can equip us to deal with the messy world. We need not lose the sketchbook. It elevates our vision to the ideals toward which the sanctifying Holy Spirit is leading us. But ideals do not good measuring sticks make. Perhaps we can get along better if we could become a bit less measuring, a bit more realistic, and a bit more trusting in a God who promises to make all things new. That sure beats all things old.
