Can a disintegrating organization of Christian believers find a way to reverse its downward spiral? Our national leadership needs our help to find a way.
That downward spiral strikes a distinct resemblance to the deterioration of Main Street in many an American town. That hub of the community's commerce, with its pharmacy, supermarket, clothing, and shoe stores faded when developers built the shopping mall or Wal-Mart on the highway just outside town.
The Theological Task Force on Peace, Unity and Purity (PUP) has made seven recommendations to the 217th General Assembly (2006) meeting in Birmingham in June. The report as a whole is brilliant, subtle and balanced, and deserves careful study by commissioners to the General Assembly and by the church at large. The vote of this Assembly on the recommendations will have a profound effect on the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).
The heart of these recommendations is number 5, and this analysis and opinion will focus on it. Recommendation 5 proposes an Authoritative Interpretation of section G-6.0108 of the Book of Order. This section states the Church's understanding of our freedom of conscience within certain bounds. The authoritative interpretation reminds the Church of its Reformed tradition dating back to 1729 that establishes the principle of freedom of conscience within bounds and applies the test of adherence to essentials of Reformed faith and polity to those being examined for ordination as deacons, elders or ministers. In recent decades, the Church has applied the test of essentials primarily to matters of faith. The authoritative interpretation retrieves its use in matters of polity, meaning practice or behavior.
For years I have taught confirmands and officers-elect with some pride that the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) has a constitutional form of government. The constitutional rule of law is one of our denomination's greatest gifts. It is also in serious danger of being undermined if recommendation five of the Theological Task Force on the Peace, Unity, and Purity of the Church is adopted as written.
On the whole, the report is a first-rate product. It provides the church with clear guidance on matters of Christology and biblical authority. The Task Force worked hard to model for the church how to resolve differences while building Christian community. Even regarding ordination standards, task force members wisely turned to the historic methods Presbyterians have used to resolve such disagreements, set forth in the Adopting Act of 1729 and the reports of the Swearingen Commission of 1925. For all these, they should be commended. However, in applying these historic methods to our current context, the Task Force both violates the original intent of the documents and sets a dangerous constitutional precedent.
William Sloane Coffin. James E. Andrews. Both gone. After spending a lifetime on a mission, they joined the Church Triumphant, leaving big shoes to be filled.
Coffin and Andrews each embodied a particular kind of churchmanship.
Bill Coffin was the activist: a chaplain and pulpiteer who stirred the masses to take action against what he declared to be the evils of the day. Many disagreed with his diagnoses. What he called a "disastrous cult of power" others cast as an international "police action." While others spoke of the force of law, he warned of the law of force. He provoked much rage. He also provoked action by those he persuaded with his arguments.
The Task Force on Peace, Unity, and Purity is recommending the General Assembly approve an authoritative interpretation of G-6.0108 that claims merely to clarify what has long been the historical position of the Presbyterian Church: that ordaining governing bodies have the final say on decisions of ordination. It once was common that presbyteries would allow candidates for ordination to declare their disagreements ("scruples") with the confessional standards of the church, and then determine if they would ordain the candidate nonetheless (lines 724-726). The recommended authoritative interpretation would revive this historic tradition (lines 1138-1179), encouraging governing bodies to hear the scruples of candidates and decide whether the stated scruples were sufficiently beyond the pale of our tradition to prohibit ordination.
I oppose it for two reasons: If it is approved, it will further erode the level of trust in our church; and it will be a top-down decision of a matter that the presbyteries have refused to allow.
Those Christian educators just won't take "No!" for an answer. Recent General Assemblies have rejected again and again proposals to ordain educators, yet presbyteries persist in submitting more overtures for the same. When will they give up? Or, maybe, should this year's GA return a different response?
Our attachment to the threefold offices of minister of Word and Sacrament, of elder, and of deacon is held almost as intensely as our affirmation of a Trinitarian God and our preference for three-point sermons. We have protected that structure against those promoting the office of bishop or of priest or of anybody else. Indeed, many of us urge our seminaries to appoint as faculty members only those who have been ordained to one of those offices.
We have not always been so jealously protective of the threefold structure of church office.
Several years ago a small incident occurred that has been much in my mind since I received the Final Report of the Task Force on Peace, Unity and Purity of the Church. The incident took place as a pastor and I drove home from a meeting. We had joined ten others in what was called a "discernment exercise," exploring future directions for the presbytery where we both served. Rather than just brainstorm and then debate ideas, the group had attended on Scripture, entered silence, listened deeply to one another's yearnings, even where those yearnings lay far apart. The group prayed. On the way home, for better than an hour, my friend talked about the "fresh bond in Christ" (his exact words) he was discovering with a person whose views differed dramatically from his own.
In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king's men and the whole Israelite army. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah (2 Samuel 11:1a-TNIV).
Welcome to Eastertide, a season to enjoy Easter's afterglow, to anticipate Pentecost's empowerment, and to go off to war.
'Tis the season to prepare for General Assembly.
The spring of 2005--the first GA off year--afforded Presbyterians the luxury of focusing their attention on Jesus' resurrection and the Holy Spirit's outpouring. This year such reflections could be drowned out by saber rattling and megaphone shouting. The 217th war, er, uh, meeting of the GA looms on the Alabama horizon--just three months away.
In the March 29, 1944 edition of The Presbyterian of the South, editors E.T. Thompson and Aubrey Brown announced that the magazine was changing its name to The Presbyterian Outlook. They explained:
We choose this name because it describes our purpose and hope--to give the Presbyterian outlook on evangelism, stewardship, missions (at home and abroad), education, worship, morals and life; the Presbyterian outlook on the problems of the individual, the home, the Church, the nation (especially our problems here in the South), and the world; the Presbyterian outlook on things past, things present, and on the things which are still to come.
We have been and we shall remain Presbyterian.
We shall endeavor, with God's help, to present a helpful, constructive, Presbyterian, thoroughly Christian outlook on all matters which properly concern us--as Christians and as Presbyterians.
One need watch only a few episodes of "Law & Order" or "CSI" to know that the wheels of justice roll on bumpy roads. Many an omniscient viewer has shouted the right answers at celluloid investigators, detectives, and prosecutors while the actors have painstakingly dragged through the evidence to build a case that can hold up in court. In TV World, justice usually does get served--about three minutes before the end of the show.
In the real world, those wheels roll on even bumpier roads. Many a crime victim discovers that the local gendarmes don't have the time or the will to pursue the evidence. Or, if they do, the prosecutor responds with a shrug, "We have no case." Screaming at those officers of the law can be even more counter productive than shouting at a TV.
Judging by this editor's e-mail inbox, many Presbyterians are shouting at their ecclesiastical TVs these days. Some are lifting up their voices in jubilation, others in anger. They all have been watching the same program, the recent ruling of the Permanent Judicial Commission of the Presbytery of Redwoods in response to the presbytery's case against the Rev. Dr. Jane Adams Spahr. Charged with performing same-sex marriages in violation of the Constitution, she acknowledged before the court that she had indeed officiated such services. However, the PJC acquitted her, stating that the constitutional definition of marriage between a man and woman need not bind the conscience of a minister. Only constitutional prohibitions need be obeyed, they said. Definitions need not be.
Like it or not, the stated clerk is the Presbyterian Church's lead ecumenical officer.
Like it or not, the present stated clerk is a self-avowed ecumaniac. He works hard for Christianity-wide unity.
Like it or not, the World Council of Churches, on whose executive committee Stated Clerk Cliff Kirkpatrick has just completed a six-year term, provides the PC(USA) its most expansive network of ecumenical relationships.
Like it or not, the recently concluded meeting of the WCC presented a picture of great unity. And it provided a platform for others to cry out their contempt for American Christians.
Like it or not, we need to deal with that.
Also featured in the Outlook forum this issue: Deep problems by Barry Ensign-George
More than fifty years ago, historian Lefferts Loetscher in his classic The Broadening Church (1954) argued that American Presbyterianism contained two elements: one stressing "precise theological formulation" and "orderly and authoritarian church government," the other placing "more emphasis upon spontaneity, vital impulse, and adaptability." "It has been the good fortune and the hardship of the Presbyterian Church," Loetscher noted wryly, "to have had ... these two elements in dialectical tension within itself from the beginning."
The tension was apparent as American Presbyterians cobbled themselves together first in a presbytery (1706) and then a synod (1716). Initially these bodies had no official creed, but by the 1720s, some were calling for mandatory subscription to the Westminster Confession. "Now a church without a confession, what is it like?" asked one proponent of subscription, and he replied that such a church was "in a very defenseless condition, as a city without walls" liable to infiltration by heresy and error. By contrast, opponents feared that required subscription was "a bold invasion of Christ's royal power" and noted the "glaring contradiction" of requiring ministers to adhere to a document which itself declared: "God alone is the Lord of the conscience."
Also featured in the Outlook forum this issue: How Presbyterians dealt with conflict in the past by James H. Moorhead
Due to space constraints the original version of this essay was shortened for the print version of the Outlook. The following is the complete, full-length version. --Editor
The long-awaited Report of the Task Force on Peace, Unity and Purity (TFPUP) is in hand. Thanks and assessments have been offered. We've invested a great deal in this effort: good people who were called in recognition of their capacity for such work, thousands of dollars gathering them and broadcasting their work, precious time for their work. Clearly they have had a powerful experience, calling us now to follow the principles that guided them, seeking similar experiences for ourselves.
Of course, the TFPUP Report does more. It proposes actual changes to the structure of our life together. And it is here that incisive questions need to be asked. The Report includes some deep problems. Specifically, the Report's recommendations 1) do not recover historic Presbyterian practices, 2) propose a form of local option without explaining how we'll deal with the implications, 3) propose a major change to our life together without putting that change before the presbyteries. It is important that these problems be recognized and addressed. In what follows I will consider these three key problems in the Report's proposals, particularly in its Recommendation 5 (Rec. 5 for short). Other problems have been identified by others among us. They also bear careful consideration.
Editors Note: In its ongoing effort to support effective local church ministry and mission, the Outlook invites its readers to consider alternative models of church ministry being developed in sister churches around the denomination. This editorial combines with two other articles, Presbyterians and the "40 Days of Purpose" and Purpose-Driven and Presbyterian: One new paradigm at work, to provide analysis of the purpose-driven church paradigm
Many Reformed Christians shook their heads in dismay when Robert Schuller's book, Self-Esteem: The New Reformation (Word Books, 1982), made its way into print.
How could he possibly think that attaining a good self-concept could replace the gospel's drama of sin ... forgiveness ... redemption, they wondered.
How could categories drawn from pop psychology supplant terms used in holy Scripture, they protested.
The reformation he helped launch has been one not of theology but of methodology. That reformation commenced when he formed a church by visiting hundreds of Garden Grove, Calif., homes, asking folks, "Do you go to church?" and "If not, why not?" Based upon their responses, he shaped his drive-in church's liturgy around people's expressed desires rather than adhere to some of the classical traditions of the Reformed churches. In the process he jettisoned the language of Zion and replaced it with terms whose meanings were self-evident to secular people. He shortened or eliminated parts of worship perceived to be boring. In the process, communication effectiveness took precedence over confessional precision and biblical exposition.
Also featured in the Outlook forum this issue: The challenge of true compassion by Tim Filston
For my first Homiletics sermon at Westminster Theological Seminary my text was Paul's challenge to the elders of the church, in Acts 20:28-31: Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he has bought with his own blood. I know that after I leave, grievous wolves will come in among you and will not spare the flock. Even from your own number persons will arise and distort the truth in order to draw away disciples after them. So be on your guard!
At the time I preached that sermon, I was sure that the current meaning of "wolves" was "Protestant Liberals," who had explained away much of the text of Holy Scripture. After decades of historical research, I have not changed that opinion. However, I have learned that religious wolves come in many shapes and sizes. Left to ourselves, acting without the restraining or inspiring grace of God's Spirit, any of us can tear and divide the flock. A great hymn, "The Church's One Foundation," describes it:
Though with a scornful wonder
This world sees her oppressed,
By schisms rent asunder,
By heresies distressed ...
When Luther wrote his first commentary on Galatians (1519), he was concerned to confront both heresy and schism. He knew that the leadership of the church was riddled by sexual antinomianism and other deadly sins, and that it was involved in theological heresy that had corrupted its center in Rome.
Also featured in the Outlook forum this issue: Unity and Purity by Richard Lovelace
Mae West said, "I used to be Snow White, but I drifted."
Isn't that the way we usually make compromises--we just drift a bit? We make an assumption that just seems right and worry about consequences later. Here's one: My private pursuit of happiness is no one's business. Many Americans believe that as long as we stay out of each other's lane and obey the traffic laws, then what happens inside my car should not concern you. Yet, on the contrary, what happens inside the car affects how we relate to traffic. Still, the prevailing assumption is that private freedom trumps common values. Many within the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) have been chasing this trend.
This drift towards the priority of the private has been gradual but steady. And like the frog in the kettle that cannot detect the temperature rising, our common doctrinal values are slowly getting cooked. There is such confusion about doctrine that many people in the church deflect time-tested, biblical truth, thinking that they are being more Presbyterian by doing so. Some think that exchanging our confessional point of reference for the Spirit of the Age is what it means to be the "church reformed and always reforming."
If it ain't broke, don't fix it. If it's broke, restructure it.
Presbyterians in the pews may be excused for rolling their eyes over reports that the General Assembly Council is restructuring itself. Many will tell you that the GAC is broke--functionally, if not financially. Many wonder if it can be rebuilt at all. Some think it's not worth the effort.
Such a state of affairs is tragic, to say the least. Organized to implement the directives of the General Assemblies to facilitate the fulfillment of Christ's commission, the GAC is endowed with a high purpose, a broad authority, and huge resources.
The model currently in use was structured to broaden the representation on the elected GAC and to recruit multi-gifted members to serve. On paper the structure is very post-modern, being led not by a lofty hierarchy but by representative elders and ministers who share equivalent authority with their colleagues throughout the denomination. True to those intentions, the members of the GAC have invested an enormous number of hours into the task entrusted them.
Nevertheless, the processes keep stuttering, the work keeps stumbling, and the systems keep imploding. And folks in the pews sense a widening disconnect between national church and local church.
Also featured in the Outlook forum this issue: Reflections on Intelligent Design by Mark Achtemeier
Intelligent design has become a common cultural code phrase. It appears in our newspapers. It inspires indignation, delight, dismay, confusion and curiosity. A deeper look is worth the effort to understand what is going on.
To understand how "Intelligent Design" is used in our society today, we need to look back at the history of evolution over the past 150 years, and fundamentalist responses to it beginning in about 1920. We also need to think clearly about the finer distinctions between modern science and religion.
Darwin's Origins
The history of evolution took wing with the publication of Darwin's Origin of the Species on November 22, 1859. In it, he outlined the implications of observations made while traveling on the British survey ship Beagle 1831-1836. Darwin's ideas created religious upset in some quarters, and continue to do so to this day.
Unbeknownst to Darwin, Gregor Mendel, a Czech-born Austrian monk, was conducting experiments on the genetics of pea plants that fit well with Darwin's observations. He published two lectures in 1865 and journal articles in 1866. His work was unnoticed, and forgotten for 30 years.
Mendel's work includes some fundamentals we all appreciate: Everyone has two biological parents. Children look like their parents. Children are not identical to their parents. Most of us consider these three obvious facts truisms, and therefore we believe the fundamentals of evolution.
To these basics, Darwin added that, for the animals he observed, not all offspring survive, and that only the progeny that survive to have descendents will pass along their genetic material. Mendel added the notion of genes, the particles of heredity that parents pass to children in a way that a child receives half his genetic complement from each parent, without blending. He worked out the basic arithmetic of inheritance.
In 1902, Walter Sutton of Columbia University found that grasshopper sperm cells had only half as many chromosomes (DNA strands in the cell nucleus) as other cells. He asserted that genes are part of chromosomes, and that they are inherited, half from each parent, just as Mendel described. This notion was widely accepted by the 1950s.
In 1953, James Watson and Francis Crick published their description of DNA. They revealed the now-famous double helix, a molecule shaped like a spiral staircase in which each step was one of four letters in our basic genetic code. By 2001, the Human Genome Project had decoded a complete copy of the human genome: a spiral stair with 3.2 billion steps! Our DNA is in 23 pairs of chromosomes (seen by Sutton a century earlier) and we inherit half of them from each parent, as Mendel had deduced in 1865.
Modern evolution, from the viewpoint of the biological sciences, consists of far more than Darwin's work. For example, the DNA coding structure is found in every known living thing on our planet. It is one line of evidence for a central tenet of evolution, "Common Descent," which holds that all life on earth is genetically linked by common ancestors. We are members of a single family of life on earth.
Modern evolution also uses lines of evidence from plate tectonics and geology. Plate tectonics is the well-regarded science of how continental plates form and move on the liquid core of the earth's mantle. It provides a coherent explanation for findings of identical fossils at what are today widely distant places. It does the same for some modern animals as well: marsupials in Australia, and the opossum in North America with no apparent connection other than through plate tectonics.
Also featured in the Outlook forum this issue: Intelligent design--a cultural code phrase by Walter R. T. Witschey
Even a casual glimpse at current headlines leaves little doubt that the Intelligent Design debate has become yet another battleground in the culture wars, with culturally-aggressive fundamentalists and equally-militant secularists well represented among the contending parties. Beneath the surface-level politics, however, there are substantial scientific and philosophical issues at play that ought to be of interest to any thinking Christian. It is the purpose of this essay to highlight some of these more substantive issues, lest they disappear beneath the waves of partisan politics.
One of the founding documents of the Intelligent Design Movement is Darwin's Black Box, by Michael Behe. Those who have seen Intelligent Design linked repeatedly with biblical Creationism in the popular press may be surprised to find that Behe's book contains no scriptural citations, no references to Genesis, no theological arguments, no appeals to faith, no sweeping rejection of evolutionary theory and no speculation about the nature or identity of a Creator.
What Behe's book does contain is a lot of biochemistry: technical descriptions of the chemical machinery that underlies life-processes such as blood clotting, immune response, vision, etc. These molecular machines turn out to be vastly complex, Rube Goldberg contraptions whose operation depends on the precise interaction of dozens of large, intricately-structured protein molecules.
Behe contends that while evolutionary processes of random mutation and natural selection can account for much of the living world around us, they cannot explain significant portions of what modern biochemistry has uncovered at the molecular-level of living organisms. Why is this so?
So what are we to make of Intelligent Design? Perhaps a glimpse at life between two offshoots of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) can give us insight. Take a look at the Orthodox Presbyterian Church (OPC) and the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA).
These two denominations hold many beliefs in common: adherence to the inerrancy of Scripture, subscription to five point Calvinism, opposition to higher criticism, rejection of women's ordination, repudiation of modernism and post-modernism. Yet they remain separate denominations. Why?
One reason: They do not read the first chapter of the Bible in quite the same way.
While both denominations allow some latitude in interpretation, the PCA leans toward a literal, scientific chronological reading of the six days of creation. Ordination candidates who question whether the world was created in 144 hours about 6,000 years ago risk disqualification.
The OPC takes a less certain view. While some of its clergy and elders hold to six 24-hour periods of creation, "those who hold to the day-age theory or framework hypothesis argue that the biblical text is inconclusive as to the length of the days ..." They add that the Westminster Confession (and its catechisms) does not require exacting agreement, so "there must be latitude in this area." Yes, the OPC allows latitude in interpretation; see their Web site: https://www.opc.org/qa.html?question_id=131 .
Note the two kinds of latitude they affirm. One suggests that each of the six days may constitute an indeterminate length of time. The other, the "framework hypothesis," requires more explanation.
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?
Are you one of those miniatures collectors? Do you know any one who is? Back in the days when printing presses would utilize little blocks of wood and metal, with forms of each letter with which they would lay out the type for their newspaper or an advertisement, they would put those letters in printers' boxes. That's how they sorted their As from their Bs, Cs, and so forth.
Today, the letter blocks are long gone, but the printers' trays still sell. You find them in antiques stores and flea markets. They get scooped up by collectors--miniatures collectors. They provide just the right sized cubby holes in which to display tiny cars, tables, chairs, dishes, figurines, and other decorative items that are less than a square inch in size.
Why? What's the value of having unusable tiny imitations of the real thing?
An international team of psychologists is studying this phenomenon, in the hope that an answer to this mystery could lead to solving countless other unanswered mysteries. All kidding aside, one part of the answer may be that collecting small items affords persons the opportunity to get their arms around their world, or literally, get their hands around it. When you look at miniatures, you get to see things more completely. You get a grip--literally--on life.
That may be one of the reasons that so many people have been so taken with the movie "The Passion of the Christ"--which broke attendance records almost everywhere that it has was released--including Egypt, Syria, and Lebanon. In just two hours and six minutes, that movie gave people a handle on Jesus. Frankly, it exposes the horrors of violence and evil that thrive in human hearts, but in the process, that movie also provides us a picture of the sacrificial suffering of Jesus.
It's one thing to obey God. It's another thing to obey God. Or to put it in the words of H. Russel Botman, "In retrospect we learned to decipher a difference between 'simple obedience' and 'complex obedience.'"
Botman was speaking, along with colleague Dirk Smit, at the Sprunt Lectures at Union/PSCE in Richmond, outlining how the theological work of forming and adopting the Belhar Confession had helped his country find its way out of the practice of apartheid. South Africa will never be the same, thanks to these two men and their colleagues who shared the task of writing Belhar--and thanks to the courage of their people who pursued a path of "complex obedience."
What's that? As in most other situations, the text carries with it a subtext. The text here is the Confession of Belhar, a potent application of Christian theology and ethics to the church's life in secular society. The subtext is another document, the Kairos Document, which emerged in the days that intervened between Belhar's composition and adoption.
True to their denomination's policies, Belhar was proposed at a general synod meeting (1982), but it needed to be studied for four years before it could be adopted by the next synod meeting. Three years into that process, the Kairos Document was published as "an attempt to develop ... an alternative biblical and theological model that will in turn lead to forms of activity that will make a real difference to the future of our country." Kairos was an uncompromising, prophetic call to action.
Kairos lamented that, "the Church is divided. ... Even within the same denomination there are in fact two Churches. In the life and death conflict between different social forces that has come to a head in South Africa today, there are Christians (or at least people who profess to be Christians) on both sides of the conflict--and some who are trying to sit on the fence!" Specifically, the document outlines three competing kinds of theology in the church: "'State Theology,' 'Church Theology,' and 'Prophetic Theology.'"
"If we leave the PC(USA), where are we going to go?" The troubled question came from an evangelical woman, a young leader and emerging scholar in conservative circles. At issue was the possibility of a split in the denomination, likely to be led by disaffected conservatives. "We know where the women stand in the PCA [Presbyterian Church in America]," she said. "The EPC [Evangelical Presbyterian Church] said women's ordination is optional, and they've opted to 'just say no.'" Then came the clincher. Referring to the testosterone-driven conference she and I were attending, she added, "Frankly, I hear these men saying they will do things differently, but I don't know if I can trust them."
How tragic it would be if, in the midst of a grand two-year celebration of women's ordination in the PC(USA), a long-threatened split occurred that would launch another denomination where women's leadership role could possibly be diminished.
What celebration? Well, one hundred years ago (1906) a woman was first ordained a deacon in the UPCNA. Seventy-five years ago (1930) a woman was first ordained a ruling elder in the PCUSA. Fifty years ago (1956), the first woman was ordained a minister of word and sacrament. This convergence of anniversaries makes 2006 a fitting time to celebrate the ways we Presbyterians have promoted gender equality in a century long to be remembered for Women's Suffrage, gender-inclusive language, and The Feminine Mystique.
About a year ago, chest pains and breathing troubles prompted me to see the doctor. The diagnosis proved to be minor and the course of treatment easy. But the diagnostic process was memorable, to say the least.
The family doctor determined to run some tests. He marked a few items on his page-long checklist, placed the clipboard on a door hook, and while walking out, said, "I'll check back with you after the tests."
A few minutes later the nurse marched me to the x-ray department where the technician took a few photographs. She took me to another room, where I blew into a clear plastic thing that looked like an inverted saxophone. Then she took me back to the examination room, looked at the checklist, twisted her nose a bit, looked at me, twisted her nose again, shrugged and then asked, "Are your ears feeling plugged?"
"Not really, but maybe a little in my right ear."
She pulled out an otoscope, studied both ear canals, and commented, "Well, I see a little extra wax in your right ear." One warm water ear rinse later, she made a few markings on the chart, placed it back on the door hook, and walked out.
Upon his return the doctor looked at the first chart. "You're x-rays look good. The lungs are clear." He looked at the next chart. "Your breathing is strong." He looked at the third chart. He twisted his nose a bit, looked at me, twisted his nose again, and then with a most puzzled look, asked, "Did the nurse flush out your ears?"
"Yes, sir."
"She was supposed to give you an EKG, not an ear flush." He looked at the checklist, saw that his mark was a bit off the mark, and said, "I'll send her back in to do the EKG." He shrugged and smiled. "For what it's worth, you just got a free ear flush. Hope it felt good."
A sheepish nurse returned, rolling in an EKG machine. Her embarrassment quickly turned into our shared laughing.
As I left the office my laughing turned reflective. Dumbstruck, I realized that in the spiritual life, plugged ear canals cause sick hearts.
What hardened the heart of Pharaoh? What hardened the hearts of Israel's enemies, and at times the hearts of the Israelites themselves? What hardened the hearts of Jesus' detractors? One simple answer: their hard-hearts grew out of their deaf ears. Referring to that history, three times the book of Hebrews warns believers, Today, if you hear his voice, harden not your hearts as in the day of rebellion.
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