Guest commentary by Steve Wilkins
Recently, two churches that have had enormous influence in my life voted to separate from the denomination in which I am ordained as a Minister of Word and Sacrament. First Presbyterian Church of San Antonio — the church of my childhood and young adulthood, the church that nurtured me in the faith and confirmed me, the church that ordained me as a deacon, the church that endorsed me as an inquirer and candidate for ministry, the church where my wife and I were married, the church that baptized our first child, the church where my parents have faithfully attended and served for over 40 years, the church that I have always considered home — voted to disaffiliate from the PC(USA). On that same day, First Presbyterian Church of Midland, Texas — a church I served for nearly nine years as associate pastor, a church that helped me understand God’s love and grace in new and powerful ways, a church that welcomed and embraced my family with love and enthusiasm — voted to seek dismissal from the PC(USA).
My heart aches.
On several levels, I get it. I sympathize with the frustration over political activism and theological drift. I understand the sense of disconnect that the people in the pews have in regard to the actions, decisions and positions of the denomination, for I, too, have often felt that same sense of disconnect. The votes to disaffiliate or to seek dismissal are the result of a long-standing undercurrent of distrust, suspicion and sense of alienation. I get it. I know why folks talk about leaving.
Still, my heart aches.
I know that many who are leaving the PC(USA) in some way see themselves as standing for truth and purity. Maybe they believe that they will be known as the ones who preserved the integrity of the historical church’s teaching and orthodoxy. I don’t doubt their sincerity, nor do I doubt their love for the church. I was nurtured by their faith. Sadly, though, I don’t believe that the witness the world sees is a witness to the truth; rather, I believe that the witness of the current denominational conflicts — a witness created by both sides — is one of partisan divisiveness.
And so, my heart aches.
There are no winners in these conflicts. Those who prevail in their position cannot be considered winners, because these conflicts have created far too many casualties in Christ’s church. Too much collateral damage. Those who prevail will extend the olive branch — let the reconciliation begin, they say. But let’s not be fooled into thinking that reconciliation will happen in weeks or even months. In an environment where people have hurled accusations of heresy and false teaching at one another and out-maneuvered each other with parliamentary procedures or litigation, we must assume that it will take years to rebuild trust and mutual respect.
And so, my heart aches.
For those who are upholding the authority of Scripture (and I don’t for a moment believe that “liberals” don’t uphold the authority of Scripture, as they are often depicted), I wonder why folks are ignoring the very words of Jesus Christ, who prayed for unity among his believers and who said that our witness to God’s love in Christ largely depends on the degree to which we are united in love (John 17:20-23)? Or, why do folks ignore the teaching of Paul when he says that one part of the body of Christ does not have the right to say to another part, “I don’t need you.” (see 1 Corinthians 12:14ff, especially verses 20-21)? The body of Christ is a far cry from what the Bible calls for.
And so, my heart aches.
At some level, I realize that my friends at the churches in San Antonio and Midland don’t harbor ill will toward me. And yet, the corporate action of those churches has sent the message that today I am, at least in some way, a lesser person because of my willingness to remain faithful to my ordination vows as a member of the PC(USA). And if I’m being honest, my own sense of pain and sorrow makes me feel an uneasiness toward those churches. I don’t like feeling like less of a person, nor do I like thinking the same of others; and yet, the nature of these conflicts lends to such feelings.
And so, my heart aches.
My heart aches, because I desperately want a table that is big enough for all of us to gather around it. Caught firmly in the middle, I dearly value both my “conservative” and “liberal” friends, colleagues and fellow faithful disciples — and yet, many to my right and to my left are perfectly content to seek fellowship only with those who are like-minded. I myself am not always comfortable with some of the folks who gather around the table with me — that’s probably my own issues at work — but I will strive to stay at the table with them, if they’ll have me. The new tables of fellowship which are being created by the exodus from the PC(USA) are much more homogeneous than the biblical model suggests. The banquet tables we create here on earth are a far cry from the banquet table Jesus describes in the gospels.
And so, my heart aches.
On many levels, for many reasons, my heart aches. I am deeply sorry that such an environment of disconnect and alienation has arisen in the PC(USA); we who have chosen to stay in the PC(USA) must bear responsibility for the unhealthy environment we have created over the years. I also wish that congregations who are disillusioned with the actions and positions of the PC(USA) would find a way to stay — our ministry and witness to the gospel is diminished by your absence.
This isn’t what Jesus intends for his church. Jesus deserves better than this.
My heart aches.
STEVE WILKINS is a teaching elder in the PC(USA). He is the pastor of Georgetown Presbyterian Church in Georgetown, South Carolina. He and his wife, Carol, have three grown children, one dog, and three cats.
