Page 4542 – Christianity Today (2025)

As I hung up the telephone, I realized Jerry had done it to me again. This round lasted no more than five, maybe ten minutes, but my doubts lingered for days.

Jerry and his family were on-again-off-again worshipers. Of late, they were off again. I had called to express concern, to say they were missed. Jerry informed me that if I really cared, “You would have called a long time ago. And you wouldn’t pay so much attention to the rich folks in the church. And you would care more about us in the church than the unchurched.”

What conflict can do

Such conflict can negatively affect me:

1. It pushes me away from sound judgment. I tend to want to please people and avoid conflict. Conflict pushes me, like an opposing magnetic force, away from sound, godly judgment. Instead, I am magnetized toward self-doubt, stubbornness, self-pity, self-indulgence, or solemn resignation. I think, How could he say I didn’t care? Maybe I am a poor pastor. I probably should have called sooner. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a pastor.
2. It affects my preaching. In my first year of pastoral ministry, James was waiting for me after the worship service. He had white, swept-back hair; he was a senior member of the congregation. He spoke with a gravelly voice: “Pastor, you better not say that word around here anymore or there won’t be anyone left in the pews. They will all leave.” “What word?””Money,” he said.I had mentioned it twice in the sermon. Giving was weak in the church—and that was a generous appraisal. James’s comment taught me, wrongly, that preaching about money creates conflict. I thought, If two words could anger one guy and threaten to send everyone else running for the doors—imagine what a whole sermon on the topic might do! Seven years passed until I preached again on money. Not until someone told me, “It’s natural for people who are not generous givers to react with guilt or fear,” did I return to the subject.
3. It makes me reluctant to lead. Early in my ministry, conflict caused me to question my ability to lead. In recent years, it has caused me to question why I should lead. While at times I am blind-sided by conflict, other times I know the right leadership decision will create conflict with some members. Then I feel reluctant to make that decision. Last year we restructured our worship schedule. For the first time in my fifteen years at the church, everyone—both the 8:00 and the 9:30 crowd—would feel the impact of this change. Hindsight suggested we should have made the change a year earlier. My reluctance to deal with the conflict slowed our decision. (And the conflict did come.)
4. It affects my family. Rarely do I come home after a confrontation and kick the cat (we don’t have one) or yell at Gail or our three sons. I am more inclined to internalize the conflict. I replay the dialogue in my mind, argue with myself, and wish I had said more at the moment. Consequently, I can sit with my family at dinner or drive the car or help with household chores but be mentally absent. As a result of conflict, often my family gets little of my emotional energy.
5. It isolates me. Matthew was a committed Christian, who also was committed to question most of what I did and much of what I said. As a result, we frequently clashed. Matthew would begin, “Now Pastor … ” The last few years of his life, he added, “Now Pastor, you know that I love you but … ” I could always count on Matthew confronting me directly, and over the eight years our lives intersected, he and I actually built a sound relationship. But the repeated conflicts kept me cautious. I chose my words carefully. Conflict leaves me less open. I distance myself from people. I think about how to protect myself. Transparency goes down as conflict goes up.

Limiting conflict’s impact

Fortunately, for the well-being of my family, my congregation, and myself, I have found five disciplines that limit conflict’s impact on me:

1. Write my prayers to God

I find journaling to be useful in dealing with conflict. I often begin by writing: “Dear God, I feel … ” or “Yesterday I felt … ” and then follow the familiar prescription of Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication.

Writing my prayers brings the components of the conflict before God. This action slows me down. It brings clarity to my tangle of thoughts and emotions.

Even as I write, I feel caught in a painful conflict that has churned for several weeks. Several days ago, I began by writing: “Dear God, I hurt so very badly this morning. I don’t fully know why. It just seems to consume me. Who can I trust? I feel like there has been an assassination attempt on my character. God, you are faithful. You, O Lord, will protect me.”

2. Go to the circle of friends

I draw on a circle of relationships—other local pastors, staff, my wife—to help put the pieces of conflict in proper order.

Recently I told our staff the experience I had with James and his problem with my preaching about money. Wisely, our youth minister asked, “Would things have happened differently if you would have reflected on that experience with another pastor?”

The answer was obvious.

3. Sweat it out

I like to run, though not fast, on quiet trails near our house. The air is fresh. The birds sing. An occasional rabbit or squirrel darts from side to side. (The Chicago area cries for a warmer winter alternative, I admit.) Running releases the stress that builds within me. It provides solitude to replay events. I sometimes get so lost in my thoughts I forget I’m breathing hard!

4. Dig for the nugget of truth

Conflict needs to be mined for its nugget of truth. My ministry has been positively shaped much more by the hundreds of criticisms I’ve received than it has by a thousand compliments.

For example, I confronted a successful businessman in our congregation because he was neglecting his wife and family. He and I are a lot alike—hard-charging, aggressive. I confronted him in the same aggressive manner: “Keith, you’re failing as a father and as a husband. You’re where I was. You’re wrapped up in your work. Your wife is abandoned. Your children will be grown, gone, and still be wondering where you are. It’s not right. You need to change!”

Keith objected, “You don’t understand … “

I countered each of his objections bluntly and labeled them as excuses. I further seasoned the lunch meeting with biblical references. Keith sat quietly; he stopped objecting. And he has never allowed me close to him since.

From that silent criticism, I’ve learned to be more gentle. Since then I’ve confronted other hard-charging husbands with a softer touch.

5. Keep outside interests

For the first eight years of ministry, I rode a roller coaster of emotion. I was a workaholic, and my perception of myself rose and fell with my perception of my ministry. When conflict occurred, I usually felt low.

I now complement—not escape—my work with outside interests. I keep contact with other churches. I participate in the community. I engage in my family’s interests. I’ve pursued educational opportunities. As a result, my perception of myself doesn’t hinge as much on my work.

Sweet consequences

My conflict with Harry had simmered for a while. Our church was in the early stages of asking the difficult questions about our future in a changing neighborhood. In my absence, Harry accused me of lying to the congregation and planning a separate strategy.

I experienced many of the emotions I noted earlier but also regularly practiced several of the disciplines. I’d like to say the sting of being wrongly accused didn’t hurt, but I can’t. I distanced myself from Harry for a while. Several months passed, and Harry ended up in the hospital. When I visited him, Harry initiated our honest exchange: “Pastor, have you been angry with me?”

Harry caught me off guard.

“No Harry,” I said. “I’m not angry with you.”

As fast as the words escaped from my mouth, I knew they had betrayed my heart. I don’t remember the conversation between us the next several minutes so much as the argument within myself. Finally, this time with honesty, I responded to his earlier question: “Harry, I have been upset for a while.”

Once I started I wasn’t going to pause until I said it all: “I heard you accused me of lying to the congregation and planning to … Harry, you know that’s not true. You know I don’t do things in that manner.”

Harry looked me in the eye. Didn’t blink. Didn’t justify. He simply confessed, “Pastor, I remember saying something to that effect. I was wrong. Please forgive me.”

Grace flowed! So did a couple of tears.

Several years later our church was poised to pledge major dollars to a capital campaign to implement some of what Harry had feared most. As I addressed the leaders gathered to make their financial commitments, I saw Harry and his wife sitting at the front table. When the time came to complete the commitment card, Harry reached for his pen.

Rare have the results of conflict been sweeter.

Jock E. Ficken is pastor of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Aurora, Illinois. Conflict can cause me to question my ability to lead.

Copyright © 1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

A study by Leadership Journal found that 79 percent of pastors who used conflict-mediation consultants found them “very helpful” or “somewhat helpful.”

But most wished they had called for help sooner.

To help pastors and churches find that help, Leadership asked conflict mediator Marlin Thomas to list consultants who:

1. Are Christian and church-focused
2. Have training in congregational conflict resolution
3. Belong to professional organizations or associations
4. Offer letters of reference.

Most of the agencies have multiple consultants and offer training in conflict mediation or related topics.

Alban Institute, Inc.Alda Whitt7315 Wisconsin Ave., Ste. 1250WBethesda, MD 20814-3211800-486-1318301-718-4407, ext. 229Fax: 301-718-1958pwalker@alban.orgwww.alban.orgApproach: Uses approaches from mediation, family systems, organizationaldevelopment, and human relations theory—plus Alban’s own methodology developedby senior consultant Speed Leas.

Bridge BuilderPeter L. SteinkeP.O. Box 160693Austin, TX 78716512-342-8684Fax: 512-342-8684Approach: Emphasizes (1) family systems—shifting emotional processesto change the church’s functioning, (2) five-step process, and (3) highinvolvement of laity.

Center for Peacemaking and Conflict StudiesMark RoyFresno Pacific University1717 S. Chestnut Ave.Fresno, CA 93702209-455-5840Fax: 209-252-4800mediate@fresno.eduwww.fresno.edu/dept/pacsApproach: Primary models: (1) reconciling interests/injustices, and(2) family systems.

Church Conflict SolutionsMarlin ThomasP.O. Box 9673Colorado Springs, CO 80932-0673719-380-1065Fax: 719-574-7885IL office: 815-625-8023Info@rrcinc.orgwww.rrcinc.org Approach: An evangelical, biblical, relational, andorganizational-systems base. Always includes prayer.

Church Vitality ResourcesJames QualbenP.O. Box 65059San Antonio, TX 78265210-822-4273Fax: 210-822-5014langmarc@flash.netApproach: A values-led and belief-based systems approach to underlyingproblems; used by churches where mediation-arbitration or family-systemsmethods seem inadequate. Six weeks of local preparation and judicatoryparticipation required.

Conflict Management ConsultantsH. Newton MalonyFuller Theological Seminary180 N. OaklandPasadena, CA 91101626-584-5528Fax: 626-584-9630Malony@fuller.eduApproach: A three-member team that often consults together: DavidAugsberger from psychodynamic/ theological viewpoint, Robert Gorsuch usingconclusions of social psychology, and H. Newton Malony employing organizationaltheory and faith dynamics.

Conflict Management ServicesDavid Brubaker916 N. Cameron Ave.Casa Grande, AZ 85222520-421-2134Fax: 520-421-9196brubaker@casagrande.comApproach: When working with “simple conflict,” uses basic mediationprocess; when intervening in organizational conflict, uses an organizationaldevelopment approach with a family systems model.

Conflict Resolution & Conciliation ServicesRonald C. Zabel10521 Judicial Dr., Ste. 207Fairfax, VA 22030703-385-9877Fax: 703-385-4353crcs4p@aol.comwww.members.aol.com/crcs4p/peace.htmlApproach: Uses mediation and rebuilding communication to identifyroots of conflict. Addresses dynamics of the organization as structured andas actually functioning.

Institute for Christian Mediation & Conciliation StudiesJim Morris908 E. Magnolia TerraceMustang, OK 73064800-285-2584; 405-376-1381Fax: 405-376-5512Approach: Through Christian mediation and extended mediation, helpschurches re-establish communication and address issues.

Institute for PeacebuildingRon KraybillEastern Mennonite UniversityHarrisonburg, VA 22802540-432-4490Fax: 540-432-4449kraybilr@emu.eduwww.emu.edu/units/ctp/ctp.htmApproach: Draws mostly on mediation and facilitation approaches.

Life EnrichmentWes Roberts, Harvey Powers17053 Hastings Ave.Parker, CO 80134303-840-4371Fax: (303) 840-4372110072.2534@Compuserve.comApproach: Uses collaborative problem-solving with sensitivity toindividual and systemic issues.

Lombard Mennonite Peace Center (LMPC)Richard Blackburn1263 S. Highland Ave., Ste. 1NLombard, IL 60148-4527630-627-0507Fax: 630-627-0519103627.3505@Compuserve.comApproach: Uses mediation, oriented toward family systems. On-sitevisits use structured dialogue to gather information, bring healing, andgenerate outcomes.

Mediation and Dispute Resolution ServicesAlice M. PriceP.O. Box 306La Jara, CO 81140719-843-5118Fax: same, but call firstalicep@amigo.netApproach: Assesses leadership meetings and conducts interviews, thenrecommends systemic change and/or organizational development, as well asspecific mediation, evaluation, and/or other processes.

Mennonite Conciliation Service (MCS)Carolyn Schrock-Shenk21 S. 12th St.P.O. Box 500Akron, PA 17501-0500717-859-3889Fax: (717) 859-3875MCS@mccus.orgApproach: Network of trainers, mediators, and consultants. Call forreferral.

Ministry of ReconciliationBob Gross4898 E 1400 NNorth Manchester, IN 46962219-982-7751Fax: 219-982-7751bgross@igc.orgApproach: Systems theory, mediation, group facilitation, etc.

Peacemaker MinistriesGary Friesen, Peggie Smith1537 Avenue D, Ste. 352Billings, MT 59102406-256-1583Fax: 406-256-0001peace@mcn.netApproach: Seeks to determine the root causes of the conflict and guidesleaders and congregants to respond with biblical faithfulness.

Shawchuck & Associates, Ltd.Cannonball Trail7905 64th Ave. SWLeith, ND 58529701-584-3002Fax: 701-584-3245nDAKOTAs@tic.bisman.comApproach: Works with client to identify problems and design interventions,since people support what they help create.

Straus Institute for Dispute ResolutionLarry O. SullivanPepperdine University School of Law24255 Pacific Coast Hwy.Malibu, CA 90263-4655310-456-4655Fax: 310-456-4437losulliv@pluto.pepperdine.eduwww.pepperdine.edu/idrweb/christian.htmApproach: Includes nine hours of training in conflict management,interviews, and mediations. Uses a conflict management style that iscollaborative, interest-based, and biblically guided.

Trinity Center for Conflict ManagementTerry WiseP.O. Box 7174233 Medwel Dr.Newburgh, IN 47629-0717812-853-0611Fax: 812-858-640375413.22@compuserve.comwww.Trinitysem.eduApproach: Assesses the intensity, type, and nature of conflict anduses strategic, biblical, intervention.

—Marlin Thomas

Further information: Inclusion on this list does not imply endorsement. Neither Leadership nor Marlin Thomas can accept responsibility for the actions of any person or group listed. To inquire about additions to the list, please contact Marlin Thomas through this location.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

Nearly every observer of America’s religious scene agrees: the past three or four decades have brought radical changes. What has been the most significant change?

Radical changes

1. A religious reawakening with an emphasis on personal relationships with Jesus Christ?
2. The replacement of the neighborhood congregation by the regional church?
3. The expanded role of women in the church?
4. The evolution from the 1960s’ emphasis on racial integration to the 1990s’ affirmation of ethnic separation?
5. The new era of contemporary Christian music?
6. The unprecedented increase in the number of large congregations that project high expectations of anyone seeking to become a full member?
7. The change in emphasis from converting non-believers to transforming believers into disciples?
8. The impact of television on worship and preaching?
9. The gradual reduction in the number of Christians who identify themselves as “Protestants”?
10. The erosion of denominational affiliation as a central component in a congregation’s identity?
11. The recent rapid increase in the number of congregations with multiple meeting places?
12. The growing number of congregations that challenge the laity to do ministry while the paid staff “runs the church”?
13. The obsolescence of the expectation that each new generation of churchgoers will be theologically more liberal than their parents, by the arrival of the post-1955 generations, who tend to be more conservative than their parents?
14. The creation of learning communities to replace the traditional Sunday school?
15. The unprecedented number of congregations owning from 20 to 400 acres to house their worshiping community?
16. The increased competition among churches to reach potential future members?
17. The exodus of the mainline Protestant denominations and the Roman Catholic church from the larger central cities?
18. The impact of the societal-wide demand for excellence, including in preaching, meeting places, children’s ministries, and training experiences for volunteers?
19. The rapid increase in the number of very large nondenominational congregations?
20. The decentralization of theological education?

Churchgoers who were satisfied with an average level of quality began to disappear.

It is impossible to secure agreement on which of these has turned out to be the most significant single change. But there is widespread agreement that these and other changes have complicated the role and broadened the responsibilities of the parish pastor. Today’s pastor is expected to be a highly skilled leader, an excellent communicator, a superb organizer, a master of planned change initiated from within an organization, a persuasive evangelist, a loving shepherd, a trained counselor, a model of the deeply committed Christian, an inspiring teacher, and an expert in motivating volunteers.

How 1950s churches worked

In the 1950s it was assumed that a call from God and a seminary degree were adequate preparation for a person to serve as an effective parish pastor. Most other resources required by the typical congregation in the 1950s were supplied by denominations. These included hymnals, printed resources for the Sunday school, specialists who could assist congregations in capital-funds campaigns, a camp for summer use by children and youth, assistance in ministerial placement, resources for the annual stewardship program, a loan library of 16mm films, an annual event for pastors, plus resources for the women’s organization, the men’s fellowship, the youth group, and the confirmation class.

That system worked in the 1950s, as congregations focused on reaching and serving the generations born in the 1880-1940 era. Those generations had been taught by the Great Depression and World War II to:

1. trust institutions
2. respect men in positions of authority
3. be satisfied when survival goals were achieved
4. feel comfortable when offered the two choices of “Take it” or “Leave it”
5. trust brand names as superior to “offbrand” items
6. assume academic credentials guaranteed competence
7. view a vacant parking space as a blessing from God rather than an entitlement
8. evaluate the telephone, electric lights, indoor plumbing, the typewriter, and the radio as luxuries rather than as ordinary necessities
9. be loyal to one’s country, church, family, and employer.

Unfortunately, most of the churchgoers born in that 1880-1940 era today can be found in retirement centers, nursing homes, cemeteries, and small congregations with an aging and shrinking membership.

7 big trends

In summary, seven major trends converged during the last third of the twentieth century:

1. Churchgoers who were satisfied with an average level of quality and a limited range of choices in congregational life began to disappear.
2. The successor generations came with demands for excellence and the expectation they would be offered attractive choices in worship, learning, personal and spiritual growth, fellowship, and involvement in ministry.
3. The level of competition among congregations to attract and retain new members increased, because of:
   1. the erosion of inherited institutional loyalties
   2. the greater geographical separation of the place of residence from the place of worship
   3. the rapid increase in the number of very large congregations with an abundance of discretionary resources
   4. the freedom of younger generations to switch churches.
4. The ecumenical movement of the 1960s, which stressed what we have in common rather than what separates us, has been an extraordinary success. This has made it relatively easy for those on a personal spiritual journey to switch from one religious tradition to another.
5. A disproportionately large number of the churchgoers born after World War II prefer the very large churches that can respond to their demands for quality, choices, and specialized ministries. One result: half of all Protestant churchgoers can be found in 18 percent of the churches. Another result is the replacement of the neighborhood church by the regional megachurch. A third is the rising level of complexity that accompanies this increase in size. A fourth is the growing demand for a high level of competence in the professional staff.
6. Congregations changed their response to the call to mission. As recently as the 1960s, the dominant pattern was to send money to hire someone to be engaged in missions on our behalf. Today, the response is to enlist, train, place, and support members who personally do mission, both in this community and in other parts of the world.
7. The combination of competing agendas and limited resources has made it difficult or impossible for many denominational systems to respond creatively and effectively to the pleas for help from congregational leaders.The good news is that the calls for help are being answered by a huge variety of respondents, most of whom did not exist as recently as the 1950s—parachurch organizations, individual entrepreneurs, parish consultants, musicians, fund-raisers, magazines, and so on. Another hopeful sign is that some denominations’ regional judicatories have redefined their primary role to helping congregations design a customized strategy and finding resources to implement that strategy.

In search of excellence

What should we make of these trends?

The increasing demand for excellence from today’s churchgoers, and the increasing competition among churches, presents challenges to congregational leaders. But they also offer benefits.

The number-one benefit of these seven trends is that they are forcing pastors to think with greater intentionality. Increasingly, church leaders are asking, “What should our parish uniquely be doing?” and “Why are we doing ministry in the way we’re doing it?”

The second benefit is a qualitative one: congregations are increasingly willing to accept that they are not called to do everything. If today’s competition forces people to say, “No, our church doesn’t do that,” that’s great.

Lyle E. Schaller, parish consultant for the Yokefellow Institute, lives in Naperville, Illinois. He is a contributing editor for Leadership.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

I heard Bill was upset, so our breakfast meeting came at my initiative. Pushing aside my cleaned plate, I finally said, “Bill, I understand you’ve got some concerns and I want to hear them personally. You have been part of this church since it was started, and I value your insights.”

Tactful to the extreme, he affirmed my ministry, saying the church had grown since my arrival five years earlier. He said he appreciated me as a person. Then he blurted, “Pastor, we’re trying as hard as we can, and nothing seems to please you. You seem to be out of touch with how we live.”

Other words followed, but my mind began to race. My immediate thoughts obsessed on lowering standards, carnality, lack of zeal. Then an echo of a mentor reminded me that a direct confrontation can be one’s best friend. I drifted back into listening.

Bill went on about time pressures and job demands and family finances, his struggles for godliness and the heartache he felt about his child’s congenital illness. He told me about the lawsuit at work, the hours of depositions. He spoke of life as a church member who loved Jesus, juggled many balls in life, and whose pastor seemed intent on driving the sheep into exhaustion.

I left breakfast numb and remained so for days.

True reflection

I was a 35-year-old pastor in a reasonably successful church. I truly loved the people, and I fully intended to be faithful to God and the Bible. Apparently, though, I was not helping Bill grow in Christ. To him, I projected such demands for his spirituality that he felt discouraged. Then I thought of other comments, some from my staff, that confirmed Bill’s assessment. I wondered how many others saw me this way. I wondered if I needed to resign or at least make a public apology.

I felt despondent for several days, but then I had to conclude Bill was probably right: I did not understand the world that most in my church inhabited. I had never worked a year in the secular world. My work world and church world were one. I had never known severe stress or financial worry. My wife and children were healthy.

I also began to analyze more honestly my motives for ministry and concluded that many derived from naked ambition. I come from a family of successes. Dad crawled his way to success from his beginnings as an immigrant’s son. Mom exercised incredible self-mastery, excelling in all her tasks. The failures of others were dinner-table and bed-time lessons in foolishness and laziness.

In weakness I was met with mercy and compassion.

Somewhere along the line I chose to be ambitious, to strive for success. When I was converted I simply transferred my ambition into religion. I was called to serve a church as its senior pastor at 31. I loved the people, but I also saw my work as a great opportunity to become the next megachurch pastor. I had a plan and a schedule, and I was going to make it happen. Instead of a leading shepherd, I became a driving rancher.

I projected my expectations in a hundred ways—and not just in sermons. In board meetings and hallway conversations, I raised my eyebrows in a disapproving manner. I sighed with impatience. I thought, What’s wrong with these people?

Spiritual conversations

Fortunately, the next few years I had a number of enlightening encounters with mature and godly people, whom I respected and wanted to imitate. They had experienced my unreasonable demands. Each one told me something about my expectations and the limitations of the people I serve.

Unreasonable time demands

Our board meeting had just finished, and several of us were making casual conversation. One board member, a father of two, moaned, “I have to go back to work now. I have a project due and have worked sixty hours the last four days.”

We prayed for him, but as I drove home I remembered that I had been angry with him that evening because he had not completed an assignment from the previous meeting. The assignment was important; his failure delayed my plans a month.

It had not occurred to me that his time was not his own.

Unreasonable performance demands

The church was in the process of hiring a new secretary. I asked that a certain woman be considered because she had performed with merit in the business world. She was hired and became a strong assistant. One day she confided in me that she had feared coming to work for me: “I wasn’t sure I could measure up to your standards.”

I was stunned.

Unreasonable energy demands

While my wife has always been a great encourager, she often sleeps through my sermons. She explained that Sunday was the one day of the week she could sit for more than five minutes without caring for the kids.

“When I sit for long I get so drowsy,” she said. “I just can’t stay awake.”

“Honey, you just need to pinch yourself and wake up,” I replied. Upset, I felt she should come to church fresh and alive for worship. Now I see I was making unreasonable energy demands on her.

Unreasonable holiness demands

A deeply distressed woman came to see me. I considered her a godly woman in the church.

“Pastor, I am finding this series on sin to be really hard for me,” she said. “Don’t take it personally; it’s not you. But I feel like I need to get away for awhile. Would I have your permission to attend another church until you finish this material?”

I almost gasped—my messages were weakening, not renewing, her faith. Somehow I was sending out the message, “Sin is never acceptable here.” She did not need to be reminded of her sin. She needed assurance that Jesus was able to present her spotless in his presence some day.

These experiences began to reshape my attitude toward the people of my church. But one more experience was needed: I had to experience weakness myself.

New company

When I was younger, I had the energy to drive hard, to keep ridiculous standards, to force myself higher. I labored over sermons because I did not want to displease myself. I refused to let mistakes be made in public. I commonly felt anger at myself and rarely felt grateful.

A few years ago, the church faced a series of crises. Two staff members moved. A conflict among the leadership simmered. A variety of people failed to live up to my expectations in a short period of time. Angry and frustrated, I determined to dig in and work longer and harder.

Soon I began to have chest pains, then insomnia. I was preoccupied; my memory lapsed. I could hardly focus on anything for more than ten minutes. Sometimes I would weep uncontrollably.

I had run headlong into weakness and limitation. Out of energy and motivation and health, I saw in myself all that I had begun to see in others: weakness, pressure, limitations, good intentions gone bad. Yet I was not met with harsh expectations from leaders or others in the church.

One Sunday evening, the board gathered around me and prayed. Then they asked, “Pastor, you have taken care of us. Would you let us take care of you?”

They did. They gave me time off, complete relief from my responsibilities. No demands were placed upon me. In the weeks that followed, I received more than 150 cards and notes. In weakness I was met with mercy and compassion.

When I came back, many took hold of my hand or gave me a hug with tears in their eyes. One man could hardly speak as he looked into my eyes. Finally he garbled out, “Pastor, I’ve been there twice.”

I learned an incredible lesson in human frailty. I saw that my driving demands, which brought me down, also brought down others.

I have come to feel grateful. I now sometimes walk around on a Sunday and watch people serve. Or I look at the list of what people do, without pay. I know their stories. I know their lives and pressures and limited finances, and I am truly amazed. Not all of the time, of course. Sometimes I am still angry with poor performance, but I am also filled with wonder at how love for God can move one to such sacrifice.

In my first eight years in the church, one man always seemed to keep me at “pastoral distance.” We had many conversations but never connected. One Sunday after my experience with weakness, he came to me and grabbed my hand with both of his. There were tears in his eyes. He told me of his own nervous breakdown years before. Then he said, “Pastor, welcome to the human race.”

I took those words as a high honor.

Mark Lauterbach is pastor of First Baptist Church of Los Altos, California. ibid. In weakness I was met with mercy and compassion.

1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.

—More than 1,300 United Methodist clergy (about 3 percent of the denomination’s total) have signed an “In All Things Charity” statement affirming “appropriate liturgical support” for same-sex marriages and dissenting from the denomination’s teaching on homosexuality. The statement began circulating after the denomination’s quadrennial meeting in 1996 in which voting delegates reaffirmed that “the practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching” (CT, June 17, 1996, p. 58). Signatories released the document as a show of support for Omaha, Nebraska, pastor Jimmy Creech, who faces a church trial after presiding at a “covenant partnership” service of two women.

—The Alabama Supreme Court ruled January 16 that Circuit Judge Roy Moore may continue to display a plaque of the Ten Commandments behind his bench and to allow prayers to be recited publicly before sessions begin (CT, Dec. 8, 1997, p. 60). The court rejected a religious-freedom lawsuit on technical grounds, saying the judiciary will not “become a political foil.”

—Mission Aviation Fellowship (MAF), with headquarters in Redlands, California, has appointed Gary Bishop, 50, chief executive officer. Bishop replaces Max Meyers, 62, who is returning to his native Australia. MAF formed in 1945 and is active in three dozen countries.

—Mark Sweeney is the new executive director of Leadership Network in Dallas. Established in 1984 by Bob Buford, Leadership Network provides networking and resourcing to senior ministers and staff of large congregations.

—The Paul B. Henry Institute for the Study of Christianity and Politics has been established at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan, with $1 million in gifts from friends and supporters of the U.S. congressional representative who died of cancer in 1993. Calvin officials hope the center will stimulate discussions on the relationship between religion and public life by bringing a variety of conferences and seminars to the Calvin campus.

—Ward Gasque, 57, a former dean of Ontario Theological Seminary, has been appointed president of Pacific Association of Theological Studies, formerly known as Seattle Association for Theological Education.

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—Evangelism, Inc., is sponsoring the first-ever national conference on the persecuted church, March 26-28 in Columbia, South Carolina. The gathering will bring together experts, scholars, and authors familiar with persecution of Christians around the world, including professor Walid Phares, authors Paul Marshall and Bat Ye’Or, and religious-rights activists Steven Snyder, Jim Jacobson, Steve Haas, and Ann Buwalda. For information, phone 803-252-4146.

—Georgi Vins, founder of Russian Gospel Ministries International in Elkhart, Indiana, died January 11 at age 69. He had been diagnosed with an inoperable malignant brain tumor last fall. Vins had served as general secretary of the Council of Evangelical Baptist Churches, an organization of 2,000 persecuted congregations in the former Soviet Union. He spent nine years in prison and labor camps before being exiled to the United States in 1979.

—The Mongolian government has agreed to release 10,000 children’s Bibles seized by customs officials last May. The government had received hundreds of letters of protest from around the world at the confiscation of Scriptures, which had been shipped to the Mongolian Bible Society. The government continues to hold 600 impounded Christian videotapes.

—World Concern Asia director Terril Eikenberry, 47, died January 11 in Bangkok from complications associated with scleroderma. Eikenberry had been with World Concern since 1980. For the past three years as Asia director, he provided leadership to 37 relief-and-development projects.

—Alan Bergstedt, 61, has become the first chief executive officer of the Orange, California-based Wycliffe Associates, which is the support ministry of Wycliffe Bible Translators. Bergstedt had previously been chief financial officer for World Vision and founder of Visionary Management Group.

—Alexander S. Haraszti, a 77-year-old Hungarian-born physician, professor, and Baptist minister who helped secure invitations for Billy Graham to hold crusades in five Eastern European countries in the 1970s and 1980s, died January 16 in Atlanta of complications from a hip fracture.

Copyright © 1998 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

In 1968 our nation suddenly and unexpectedly lost its leading light on racial issues. I felt history repeating itself for me when I heard the news that Spencer Perkins had been taken from us. On January 27, the president of Reconcilers Fellowship in Jackson, Mississippi, and the son of evangelist/activist John Perkins died suddenly and unexpectedly of a heart attack at age 43 (see the obituary on p. 73).

In 1993 Spencer and his white ministry partner, Chris Rice, authored More Than Equals: Racial Healing for the Sake of the Gospel (InterVarsity). CT ran an excerpt about Spencer’s early struggle to assimilate two facts: one, that he was redeemed by Christ and, two, that many whites, allegedly redeemed by the same Christ, hated him (“How I Learned to Love White People,” Sept. 13, 1993, p. 34). He told of his despair when, at age 13, a white principal assented to a classmate’s judgment that Spencer was “just a nigger”; his pain at 16 when he saw the humiliation in his father’s eyes after John was ambushed and beaten almost to death for his civil-rights work; the confusion and hurt of being befriended and then rejected by a white college student. While his story of growing up black in America was powerful, it was not unique. The freshness came in his gospel-centered message.

For Spencer, the burden for racial reconciliation was heavy: “If white and black Christians could not be reconciled, then either the gospel was a lie or we really weren’t indwelt by the Christ we said had taken up residence in our lives.”

Yet this burden never provided an excuse to play down hard truths: “Most black people are angry—angry about our violent history, angry for the hassle it is to grow up black in America, angry that we can never assume that we won’t be prejudged by our color, angry that we will carry this stigma everywhere we go. … And most of all angry that white America doesn’t understand the reasons for our anger.” This anger can be “a very destructive force” or “channeled positively,” but it “must be reckoned with.”

In journalist Edward Gilbreath’s cover story on evangelicals and race 30 years after Martin Luther King, Jr. (see “Catching Up with a Dream,” p. 20), we hear more of Spencer’s hard truths: how segregation in the church is what both blacks and whites want, “but that puts comfort and culture over Christ.”

Lately Spencer talked about “radical grace” as the key to moving to the next step in racial reconciliation. But once again God has left it to us to finish the conversation without our group leader.

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TRUCKER’S TESTIMONY* The message in large, bold letters on the mudflap of a tractor-trailer truck passed on I-80 somewhere between Iowa and Connecticut last November riveted my wife and me with its terse ONLY JESUS SAVES. A lively discussion ensued about the importance of the word only. Little did we realize it was the Lord’s preparation for the insights in Daniel B. Clendenin’s powerful presentation [“The Only Way” Jan. 12]. With hindsight, it can be concluded that the long-haul trucker was correct in his exclusiveness and diligent in his obedience to the Great Commission.

Peter KushkowskiHaddam, Conn.

* I agree with the points Clendenin made. I just wish he had not overlooked the words of the apostle Paul. Romans 1:20 tells us God is so clearly seen in his creation that man is without excuse, and Romans 2:14-15 tells that us when the Gentiles instinctively do the things contained in the Law they reveal the law written in their hearts, an experience analogous to the new covenant.

Because God does not want anyone to be lost, because God always does that which is right, in my opinion Paul suggests that God could save those who never heard the gospel because they saw Jesus the Creator revealed in his creation and on that basis lived instinctively for him experiencing what we would call the new covenant.

On the basis of biblical evidence, I would have to answer Clendenin’s question, “Yes, God can certainly save those who have never heard the gospel.” I believe he would prefer that all hear the gospel. But not all have heard or will hear the gospel because of our failure to proclaim it. Should they then be lost because of our failure? It seems to me that Paul describes for us a just, fair, and loving God’s alternative.

* Clendenin’s article is to be commended for its pointedness and sensitivity. Perhaps it is too simplistic an observation, but for any Christian to believe that Jesus Christ is truly the Son of God and also to believe theological pluralism is an ultimate absurdity. In fact, it is just plain slanderous of God. If Jesus is indeed God’s Son and theological pluralism be true, then God is both foolish and evil; not only foolish to have needlessly sacrificed his only Son when there were other ways for man to be saved, but also evil to have done so, the other ways making it quite unnecessary.

Pastor Clifford A. HurstHurst Union Road Pentecostal ChurchDayton, Ohio

I believe the error of pluralism is a failure to understand who Christ really is. What comes out from this world-view is that Christ is a “peer” of Muhammad, Buddha, Confucius, and the like. The Christian knows this is not accurate and that Christ is very God, one with the Father. To say that no one comes to God except through Christ is not narrow; it just acknowledges the truth that no one comes to God except through God. Any attempt to reach God through other religions must go through Christ eventually if it has any hope of being successful. A high view of who Christ is solves the problems of exclusiveness, narrowness, and so on.

Robert C. VanstrumDellwood, Minn.

A PLACE FOR DISCOMFORTFrederica Mathewes-Green’s article “Wanted: A New Pro-Life Strategy” [Jan. 12] encourages the pro-life community to trade political activism, which she says does not work, for a model of sympathetic persuasion. I believe Mathewes-Green draws up a false dichotomy. Active listening and sympathetic discussions are effective in crisis-pregnancy centers and in intimate settings, but they are not sufficient to end abortion. There is no need to take an either/or stance on pro-life strategy. The sin of abortion is invasive both at the personal and the institutional level. Different tactics are called for depending on the intended audience and on specific goals.

As Mathewes-Green acknowledges, most people know it’s a baby. However, the American conscience needs to be stung repeatedly by the truth that killing a baby is wrong. Old Testament history reminds us how easy it is for a generation to slide into complacently accepting evil. Many pro-lifers are weary, and some may wonder if the battle is worth it. Just as we are called to persevere in our personal walk with God, so we need to persevere in the down and dirty business of telling the world that abortion is wrong, and in the sometimes even dirtier business of political involvement.

Mary A. WaalkesBoulder, Colo.

* While applauding Mathewes-Green’s suggestion that we move beyond “avoidance and fury” in the abortion debate, I would add one further consideration to her suggestion that “we should explore whether marriage is a possibility.” While she cites statistics of the success of “shotgun” marriages (and they are impressive statistics), shouldn’t the spiritual state of both parties be included in our exploration? If the principle of being “unequally yoked” mentioned in 2 Corinthians applies to the marriage bond, then we could find ourselves complicating sin with sin by encouraging a believer to marry an unbeliever [just because] one of them is pregnant.

James MenziesWakefield, R.I.

Mathewes-Green lists three points for a new strategy: (1) It’s a baby, (2) Abortion hurts women, (3) We can live without abortion. Under these she further details how to advance this strategy by speaking to the woman about preventing pregnancy, supporting those who experience an unexpected pregnancy, becoming a friend, exploring marriage to the baby’s father, encouraging adoption, and so on.

This made me wonder: “What have I been doing for the last 13 years?” We have been, on a daily basis, setting this strategy before the clients of the pregnancy-help centers for many years.

There was a fourth point with which I must take great exception—the recommendation not to speak to people who are not religious about God or Scripture because Mathewes-Green has found such an approach to be “nearly always ineffective” and because you may be seen as “one of those.” However, I have found the opposite to be true.

When first in the pregnancy-help center movement, we were taught to counsel women without bringing up the concept of God. However, if it appeared the woman was receptive, we could broach the subject but be ready to retreat if there was any sign she was not ready to hear the mention of his name. Years of frustration followed as I and those I taught struggled to present that strategy. We knew deep in our hearts there was something missing.

Eventually we realized that gagging our speech about God was wrong. Without speaking about God, sharing his message of salvation, peace, mercy, forgiveness, and love, there cannot be a change of life and heart. As much as I agree that we must (continue to) “listen carefully to pro-choicers in order to understand their reasoning,” my experience with women in the counseling room, as well as my understanding of Scripture, indicates that the abortion issue is not a faulty-reasoning issue but rather a matter of the client’s heart and spiritual condition.

When done in a respectful, loving, and sensitive way, speaking about the God of love through biblical counseling is the most effective and longest-lasting approach.

Pat DundasHope Counseling CenterDover, Del.

* At first, the article urged cooperation between pro-life and pro-choice groups in a way that could dramatically impact the annual carnage wrought by abortion. However, it turned out merely to be a smoother approach to the standard bottom line: We must pass laws that will force all pregnant women to carry every pregnancy to full term regardless. Such an absolute stand means the carnage will continue.

Don HawleyPortland, Oreg.

About a year ago I came across a statistic saying that 85 percent of women contemplating abortion, who then have an opportunity to view their own sonogram, choose not to abort the child. This explains why abortion clinics position the screen so that only the physician can view it. It occurred to me that the most effective deterrent to abortion may be a law that required clinics to offer a woman the option of viewing her sonogram.

I began calling pro-life leaders throughout our state. I expected to have someone politely explain to me why such an idea was na•ve and unpractical. To my surprise, I was met with praise and excitement.

I talked with a couple of individuals about devising a strategy for such a bill. We spoke of presenting it from a pro-choice perspective, the difference being that our bill allowed for informed choice rather than blind choice. The initial reaction was one of enthusiasm. I was asked to come to Annapolis to meet with pro-life leaders. [But dates for] meetings to be held in August or September passed. I then spoke with a representative who came to my office and asked me to abandon this approach, at least temporarily, and get involved in an attempt to ban partial-birth abortion in Maryland. I agreed.

Still another contact with Maryland Right-to-Life suggested I abandon all hope for “an informed consent bill.” Her logic: “We don’t want to be perceived as being too pushy.” I was then told that if I persisted in pushing for informed consent, the local news media “will rip you to shreds.”

If a bill requiring clinics to give women the option of seeing their sonogram is not feasible, then fine. But if we are backing off under the threat of a hostile press, something is wrong.

Pastor Howard GardnerBel Air Assembly of GodBel Air, Md.

LIFE IS PRECIOUSYour editorial “What Really Died in Oregon” [Jan. 12] prompted me, for the first time, to consider the seriousness of the assisted-suicide issue. Life is very precious, and for a person to lose that divine spark, it must be the result of the unavoidable collapse of one’s health, not the product of a bad day. Whether or not I’m a burden to myself and society, the breath that is within me was given to me by the grace of God, and to snuff it out by my own hand would be a denial of the providence of the Almighty.

Perhaps if the naysayers, who adamantly proclaim the end of the Age of Miracles, would quiet their rumbling, the afflicted might be able to hear the voice of God, for God is able to do exceedingly, abundantly, above all we can ask or think. That would include healings as well.

David A. BrayshawTampa, Fla.

The largely HMO-controlled medical industry in this country does, indeed, create a market for the services of Dr. Death. HMOs are set up to serve persons with illnesses and injuries that have a specific etiology and a limited duration and, therefore, are readily treatable with one or two of the conventional therapies.

Those persons whose bodies suffer from more mysterious, intractable ailments and so refuse to recover quickly and efficiently soon get the message that the maintenance of their health is not worth the required trouble and expense. Negative conclusions about the relative worth of their own (increasingly miserable) existence follow predictably.

When the bottom line is, well, the bottom line, much that is so much more valuable than the saving and making of money is irrevocably lost. The Oregon vote is the voice of the future in HMO-land.

Rebecca Merrill GroothuisLittleton, Colo.

CONTENTMENT THROUGH CREDIT CARDS* Kudos to Charles Colson for his column on the spirituality spin that advertisers are more commonly employing as they try to charm the consumer [“Madison Avenue’s Spiritual Chic,” Jan.12]. Apparently these days not only sex but spirituality sells, and our corporate community continues to cash in on whatever works. Indeed, their philosophical motives are rarely neutral. Unfortunately, Colson failed to comment on the most prevalent and perhaps most pernicious message that all advertisers preach, hardly “neutral,” and certainly “spiritual”: consumerism. Our shopping malls are the cathedrals where we “worship.” As we excavate and critique advertising philosophies, let’s not forget the foundational philosophy that tempts all of us—contentment through our credit cards.

Andrew BeunkGrand Rapids, Mich.

* I wish evangelicalism’s foremost cultural critic would write what really needs to be said: Turn off the idiot box and get a life.

Greg MortimerEl Jebel, Colo.

Colson’s anecdote about how his criticism of one auto company’s ad campaign led to a change is encouraging. But he seems to extrapolate from that event a belief that similar complaints by the rest of us will have similar effects. He overlooks the reality of his own position and influence.

More disconcerting was the juxtaposition of the questions “When our kids hum the catchy jingle of the latest commercial, is their spiritual impulse being diverted into consumerism? Are they absorbing Madison Avenue’s false values?” with the statement “Ads with spiritual themes trivialize religion by reducing it to a marketing ploy.” I think Colson is confused about who is absorbing and trivializing what.

The trivialization of religion by commercialism can as easily be a charge laid against the “Christian” publishing houses that have often sacrificed content in their publications and replaced it with marketing glitz. And “Madison Avenue’s false values” were adopted long ago by churches in North America, which assumed a model of the corporate world as a standard of success. We have replaced the concept of a pastor with the idea of a CEO. Many of my colleagues in pastoral ministry are nearly being crushed by the expectations of Christians that we perform as corporate executives. I was wonderfully trained at seminary to perform theologically and pastorally, only to realize that the churches’ expectations require an M.B.A. rather than an M.Div. Christianity, at least in this country, bought “Madison Avenue” a long time ago.

By the way, my children know that humming “the catchy jingle of the latest commercial” will result in the swift imposition of a television viewing moratorium in our home.

Pastor Charles M. LyonsBethel Assembly of GodJacksonville, N.C.

Brief letters are welcome. They may be edited for space and clarity and must include the writer’s name and address if intended for publication. Due to the volume of mail, we cannot respond personally to individual letters. Write to Eutychus, CHRISTIANITY TODAY, 465 Gundersen Drive, Carol Stream, IL 60188; fax: 630/260-0114. E-mail: cteditor@christianitytoday.com ( * ).

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Several years ago, in the aftermath of Christian musician Michael English’s affair with a backup singer, one Nashville pastor told Billboard‘s Debra Evans Price: “We dress people up, put make-up on them, have stylists do their hair, put them on a stage in front of thousands of people, shine a spotlight on them, and then expect them to be humble.”

And this is the surprising part: We are still surprised when they are not humble or when Christian celebrities fall.

This past February was the ten-year anniversary of the public disgrace of Jimmy Swaggart, who has become a powerful symbol of Christian celebrityism gone wrong. On page 30 of this issue, Randall Balmer recounts a visit to Swaggart’s church and reports on a weary evangelist and preacher who has had a hard time forgiving those who were critical of him and who has not been entirely successful at learning from his mistakes.

Swaggart, the media figure, reminds us that the Christian-leader-as-personality cult is dangerous for both the celebrity and his or her followers. Humility is indeed a tall order for those in the seductive glow of the spotlight. Celebrityism, even among Christians, is a snare.

Wisdom demands that we become suspicious of celebrities. A big, red “Be skeptical” sign should flash in our minds whenever we see Christian personalities plastered on our book and magazine covers or hear their smooth voices sweetening our tvs and radios. Skepticism is not cynicism; Paul’s poetic description of how love “believes all things” (1 Cor. 13:7) is not an excuse for credulity or blind faith, least of all not in human beings with feet of clay. After all, Jesus admonished us to be “as shrewd as snakes” as we try to be as “innocent as doves” (Matt. 10:16, NIV) in a sinful world. And Paul knew the necessity of testing everything (1 Thess. 5:21). We need to recognize the painful truth that the pervasiveness of worldly entertainment values within the evangelical subculture has a tendency to minimize the gospel content.

Martin Luther King, Jr.’s antidote to racism—that we judge people by “the content of their character”—also works as a powerful antidote to the personality culture in which we live. The headlines make it painfully obvious that fame cannot be equated with character.

So we ask: Have we learned these lessons about celebrityism in the church? Have we taken to heart the painful truths Swaggart taught us?

TRANSFORMERS VS. SECTARIANSChristian singer Steve Camp doesn’t think so. In an October 1997 manifesto studded with 107 theses (a 13 percent gain over Luther’s 95), Camp raised alarm over the contemporary Christian music (CCM) industry’s lack of holy living, its penchant for skewed doctrine, and its unequal yoking with the secular owners of the once-Christian record labels. Camp called for a renewed devotion to Scripture along with a renewed infusion of biblical teaching in CCM lyrics. And he called for the record labels to buy back their independence from the media conglomerates that own them.

His separationism, he claims, is not isolationism. (We must befriend unbelievers and witness to them, he explains). Neither is his vision one that could ever be as salt and light, transforming an industry. His harsh denunciations of Christian artists working for secular companies makes one wonder how Christian conductor Herbert Blomstedt, to take one example, could work for the Communist government of East Germany as the director of the Dresden Staatskapelle for many years and have such a vibrant witness. How artists can have a Christian witness while working for secular organizations is unimagined in Camp’s philosophy. Yet many have.

Despite his naive come-outism, many of Camp’s prescriptions are precisely what will preserve or rescue those whose lives are devoted to the personality-driven worlds of the CCM industry, of religious broadcasting, and of the writing and publishing of bestselling Christian books. Those prescriptions are a return to biblical morality, literacy, and accountability—and, above all, repentance.

Interestingly, that is what some Nashville sources say is now happening. Having covered the Christian music business for over ten years, Billboard‘s Price says that the spiritual discipline of musicians has actually grown as the industry has exploded from just a handful of music celebrities whose influence was largely locked inside a Christian subculture to a new era when Jars of Clay can appear on Late Show with David Letterman, and Christian singers are entertaining and witnessing in a broader context.

“Our industry has ambassadors taking the message to the mainstream,” Price says, “but I haven’t seen negative fallout from that. People in our industry take great pains to be grounded in their faith and not to be distracted.”

Many artists have now established advisory boards to hold them accountable, she says, and Nashville pastors have begun focusing their ministry more tightly on the spiritual needs of touring musicians. Sadder but wiser artists have learned the hard way that they need to focus quality time on their families and home congregations. Singing in other people’s churches every weekend has proved to be a great way to lose your own soul.

PRESCRIPTIONS FOR HUMILITYIn the culture of celebrity, the entertainer, artist, or radio preacher is driven to be more persona than person, more icon than individual. Maintaining the persona forces artists into isolation, demanding the grooming and constant maintenance of an image. The result is a social life rich in glamour but poor in community. But as Christians know, only by the grit of community is our spiritual roughness worn smooth.

Late last year, singer Sandi Patty talked candidly with CT editors about the way she has restructured family, church, and community responsibilities as she moves back into public life after a public fall. An important part of her new plan is full participation in her own local church, where people know her well and are unimpressed, in a healthy way, with her celebrity. Artists who, like Patty, avail themselves of communities of true accountability put themselves in a position to be known as people by those who love them as friends, not fans, and who can warn them in strong language as well as support them in prayer.

Artists’ managers are key as well, as we learned from talking to Patty’s Matt Baugher and dc Talk’s Rob Michaels. Says Michaels, “We constantly remind our clients that God has given them an opportunity, and with opportunity comes responsibility. They do not have a call to celebrity, but a call to be faithful with their gifting. Whatever celebrity they have is a mantle, not a right.”

All public figures—politicians, radio preachers, performing artists—need someone close to them who can say balderdash when they begin excusing self-serving behavior. Writers’ agents and artists’ managers and all those close to religious broadcasters have a high moral responsibility to avoid being mere acolytes.

Artists also need to model commitment. Says Michaels, “People who sing to you and people who make you laugh can get things through to you that your pastor can’t. Fans give celebrities power over their lives, and the celebrity must use that power responsibly.” God bless those artists who have called their fans to service and sacrifice—as have the bands who play in the Rock for Life concerts. God bless those who use their brief fame for good and for telling the good news.

If the Christian music industry has needed to work at cleaning up its act, so do other parts of the evangelical subculture. Stories continue of egotistical celebrity authors who abuse ghostwriters and publicists, and politics is, well, still politics. Particularly in religious broadcasting and political activism, power and money are often treated as zero-sum games. These “industries” need to pray much about the calling of the Christian in the spotlight.

OUR ROLEUltimately, the responsibility for change is not centered in Nashville or Colorado Springs or any other concentration of personality-driven Christian ministry. We the public have a responsibility to be careful and critical consumers of mass culture—including its Christian forms. We have the power in our pocketbooks; we have power in our pulpits.

We can encourage what Camp calls a “Christ-less, watered-down, pabulum-based, positive alternative, aura-fluff, cream of wheat, mush-kind-of-syrupy, God-as-my-girlfriend” kind of music, or we can refuse to buy those CDs, attend those concerts, book those artists in our community’s venues. We can forestall our own spiritual growth by growing dependent on largely imagined links with Christian celebrities, or we can thrive in the soil of our local congregations, where God has planted us, rightly dividing the Word of truth under the guidance of our local leaders.

As a spiritually critical public, we must be hardnosed with our choices and purchases, supporting not only artistic excellence but spiritual maturity. And those decisions do not bear fruit in the market alone; they inevitably bring their own reward reaped in the growth of moral fiber.

Copyright © 1998 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

As one of only two Negroes attending Los Angeles Baptist College (now The Master’s College), Dolphus Weary was having the time of his life experiencing a new world of white faces and middle-class culture. Born and raised in rural Mississippi, Weary had assumed he would spend the rest of his life there—until a recruiting team offered him and a friend a chance to attend a Christian liberal arts college in southern California. Other Christian schools that Weary had been interested in refused admission to Negroes. But through the urging of a bold admissions director and an ambitious basketball coach, this ultraconservative institution agreed to make Weary and his friend the first blacks who attended in its 30-year history.

Weary earned above-average grades (knowing anything less would be unacceptable) and helped lead the school's basketball team to a 19-and-5 record. Things were good. The poverty and provincialism of Negro life in southern Mississippi were out of sight, out of mind. Weary was glad to have escaped it—that is, until the day's big news made its way across campus.

As Weary left the library on April 4, 1968, a white student approached him and said, “Did you hear? Martin Luther King got shot.”

“I remember running to my room, flipping on the radio, and listening to the news report,” he recalls. A rifle bullet had ripped into King’s neck as he stood on a motel balcony in Memphis, Tennessee. The civil-rights leader was rushed to a hospital in serious condition. “I was devastated.”

As he sat on his bed holding back the tears, Weary could hear voices down the hall: white students talking about King’s shooting. But Weary quickly realized that they were not just talking; they were laughing.

“I couldn't understand what I was hearing,” he says. “These Christian kids were glad that Dr. King—my hero—had been shot. I wanted to run out there and confront them.” Instead, he steeled his fury and laid prostrate on his bed. Finally, as the newscaster delivered the awful update—“Martin Luther King has died in a Memphis hospital”—Weary could hear the white voices down the hall let out a cheer.

That was 30 years ago. Today Dolphus Weary is the executive director of Mission Mississippi, a Jackson-based community-development ministry that has drawn together black and white Christians throughout the state that King once described as “sweltering with the heat of oppression.”

After hearing the white students cheer on that terrible spring day in 1968, reconciliation was the last thing on Weary's mind. “I had to ask God how to respond,” he remembers. “It was around the time that H. Rap Brown, Stokely Carmichael, and other young militant leaders were starting the Black Power movement, and I was tempted to join them. Laughing at Dr. King’s death was just like laughing at me—or at the millions of other blacks for whom King labored.”

Deep inside, Weary wanted to hate white people, to separate himself from their prejudice. “But then I remembered the heart of Dr. King—responding to hate with love. The Lord brought to my mind that those students were only playing back the tapes that had been recorded in their heads, and I needed to help change the tape.”

Weary resolved to “take every opportunity on that campus to help those young minds think differently.” He engaged students and professors in discussions about race. He welcomed them to ask him questions about the Negro experience in the South. He rechanneled his anger into building genuine relationships with his white peers.

“I think that is the way Dr. King would have approached it,” he says. “King's heart was to look at the broader picture. The small picture is to be angry. The broader, more prophetic picture is to devote yourself to changing the system and changing minds. That was King’s great work: He brought the race issue to the table and put it on the minds of the American people. It was not on our agenda before that. But he came along and told us that we’re all created in God’s image, and that we ought to start looking at each other as brothers and sisters, especially those of us in the Christian church.”

Three decades after the death of Martin Luther King, Jr., the race issue is still very much on our minds. Across the nation the news is regularly filled with stories of racial tension and economic disparity between blacks and whites. Divided attitudes on political issues like affirmative action and welfare reform signal abiding strains between the races. A recent Gallup poll found that, by a margin of 76 percent to 49 percent, more whites than blacks believe blacks have equal opportunities for jobs, education, and housing. It also revealed that blacks are twice as likely as whites to favor affirmative action.

Faced with persistent “wake-up calls,” the nation is recognizing the widening gulf. President Clinton’s Initiative on Race has sought to get the issues “on the table” but has seen only lackluster results so far. Meanwhile, names such as Rodney King and O. J. Simpson have become symbols for America’s racial dilemmas.

Despite our national lack of momentum, Martin Luther King’s name has entered the national lexicon, evoking idealistic notions of integration, unity, and brotherhood—or, as King used to say, “the beloved community.” King’s memory stands as a reminder of how far we have journeyed as well as a disturbing beacon of the great distance left to travel.

For the church, King’s legacy is as multifarious as the nation he sought to reconcile. While some revere him as a hero and a prophet of peace, others look on him with disdain, a fact that has been magnified by revelations of King’s sexual improprieties and lapses in ethical judgment. Nonetheless, the enduring importance of King’s life and achievements have led many evangelicals who once dismissed him as a liberal rabble-rouser now to acknowledge the spiritual validity of his social mission.

VOLATILE DAYSRobert Graetz was in a tight spot for a white preacher in Montgomery, Alabama. It was 1955, and the Montgomery bus boycott—an unprecedented effort mounted by the Negro community to protest the city's segregated bus system—was in its embryonic stages. The Negroes of Montgomery had long endured the oppression of Jim Crow segregation with relatively few complaints. But with the quiet and unexpected revolt of Rosa Parks, a seamstress who had been arrested when she refused to give up her seat to a white man ("My feet were tired," she later said), the Negro community found itself inspired to take a stand.

As the pastor of the all-Negro Trinity Lutheran Church, Graetz could either remain silent and preserve his privileges as a white man, or forfeit his family's peace and safety by identifying himself with his Negro congregation. Graetz, a lanky, sandy-haired Caucasian, chose to remain faithful to his Negro flock and became the only white publicly active in the boycott. Graetz, now a 69-year-old interim pastor in central Ohio, explains it: "My family and I had to get involved. If we had remained aloof, our effectiveness as spiritual leaders in the black community would have disintegrated."

His involvement with the bus boycott introduced Graetz to Martin Luther King, then 26 years old and pastor of the middle-class Negro congregation at Montgomery's Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. "From the first time I met him, I was impressed," says Graetz. "In terms of his intellect, speaking skills, and ability to motivate people, he was at the top all by himself. He had the remarkable ability to inspire everyone in his presence."

Graetz remembers that King and his wife, Coretta, had only been in Montgomery for a year when he was tapped to head up the boycott. According to Graetz, King was recruited partly because of his charismatic leadership skills and partly because of his newness to the community—he hadn't made any enemies yet.

Though the boycott was ultimately a success, it was not easy. As the movement picked up momentum, angry segregationists cracked down on the protesters. King's home and those of other Negro leaders were bombed. Graetz was called a "nigger lover" and was frequently awakened at night by the blast of bombs tossed into his yard.

According to Graetz, the whites of the "Klan mentality" were a minority (others were just indifferent). But those who were racist made it clear that they would do everything possible to keep Negroes in their place. There was an even smaller number of Montgomery's whites who were "neo-abolitionists"—those who did everything possible to change the plight of blacks. "They were not nearly as outspoken," says Graetz, "because as soon as people spoke up, they were fired from their jobs, or their mortgages were foreclosed. Even a rumor that a white businessman was helping black people was enough to put him out of business."

But King and his movement ultimately secured integrated busing in Montgomery, and blacks throughout the South were buoyed by the triumph. Soon King, along with fellow Montgomery pastor Ralph Abernathy and other Negro Christian leaders, formed the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), a national civil-rights organization. "The thing that is often overlooked is that the civil-rights movement was a church movement," observes Graetz. "The leaders were pastors, and the mass meetings were church services, with prayers, hymns, sermons, and offerings."

CHURCH AS CONSCIENCEThe son, grandson, and great-grandson of Atlanta preachers, King was raised under the religious pieties of the black Baptist church. "King came out of a very fundamental, evangelical church," explains H. Malcolm Newton, director of urban studies at Denver Seminary. "They taught the Bible at Ebenezer Baptist Church [in Atlanta]. That was his roots."

King's intellectual curiosity and desire to understand the very unchristian race situation in the South (combined with his education at liberal northern seminaries) compelled him to ask questions that would stretch his theology far beyond fundamentalism. Nonetheless, on a practical level, King's Baptist heritage always shone through. "In the quiet recesses of my heart," he often said, "I am fundamentally a clergyman, a Baptist preacher."

"King talked about love overcoming hate. But when we were taking part in marches and demonstrations, it was not love that was making us do it; it was our desire to win."—THE LATE SPENCER PERKINS

It was no accident that an effort as socially positive as the civil-rights movement began in the church, says noted New York pastor Suzan Johnson Cook, a member of President Clinton's Racial Advisory Board. "Martin Luther King proved that our faith and our struggle should never be separate. Faith and struggle—when coupled—make us more effective leaders."

"Dr. King taught us that Christianity could be a vigorous voice for conscience in this nation," adds Robert Franklin, president of the Interdenominational Theological Center, an ecumenical coalition of mostly African-American seminaries in Atlanta. "He showed us that the church did not have to marginalize itself. That it could play a major and necessary role in the public square."

In August 1963, King's movement organized its massive March on Washington, the event that begat the legendary "I Have a Dream" speech and represented the pinnacle of his fame. A Nobel Peace Prize came in 1964. And there were rousing legislative victories as well, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

King's political efforts received criticism from white religious leaders from both conservative and liberal circles. His famous "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" was actually a passionate response to eight "moderate" clergymen in Alabama who saw King's continued use of nonviolent resistance as "unwise" and encouraged him to let the fight for integration continue in the local and federal courts. Unlike those clergymen, King could not fathom a separation between his faith and politics. He wrote:

In the midst of a mighty struggle to rid our nation of racial and economic injustice, I have heard so many ministers say, "Those are social issues with which the gospel has no real concern," and I have watched so many churches commit themselves to a completely otherworldly religion which made a strange distinction between body and soul, the sacred and the secular.

THE PRICE OF PROTESTOn a steamy July evening in 1967, James Earl Massey's plane touched down at the Detroit Metropolitan Airport. Massey, then the senior pastor of Detroit's Metropolitan Church of God, had been attending a clergy convention when one of the worst urban riots in U.S. history erupted in the Motor City. Incessant gunfire filled the evenings, rocks and bricks bashed downtown windows, storefronts were looted of their goods, flames consumed entire city blocks. When it was over, 43 lives and $50 million in property damage had been the cost.

To get home, Massey had to drive through the riot zone. He made it safely, but the biggest challenge still lay ahead for Massey and other leading Detroit ministers who began working to restore peace to their tortured city. "Our church became an outpost for reaching out to people who had lost their homes to fires or had no food because stores had been destroyed." And Detroit was not alone. Racial uprisings had recently erupted in other cities as well—Los Angeles, Harlem, Cincinnati, and several others.

The urban riots were an ugly symptom of the growing spirit of despair that had gripped the Negroes of many northern cities. "There was a lack of jobs and a growing social dissatisfaction," remembers Massey. "With the rise in automation at factories, there were a lot of layoffs, and blacks were feeling the severity of the pinch far more than others."

Although King's civil-rights endeavors had made strides against racism and Jim Crow in the South, issues like poverty, unemployment, and racial discrimination were raging out of control in the North. As a result, younger members of the broader civil-rights movement grew impatient. Leaders of groups such as the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) tossed aside King's "ineffective" nonviolent strategies in favor of more radical "black power" tactics. Malcolm X had been killed in 1965, but the Black Muslim movement continued to win converts in the inner cities. In 1966, SNCC leader Stokely Carmichael vowed never again to "take a beating without hitting back." King, though troubled, understood what drove the militant factions. "The Black Power slogan did not spring full grown from the head of some philosophical Zeus," he said. "It was born from the wounds of despair and disappointment." Nevertheless, black power did not understand King. Massey observes, "King was being looked upon by black militants as an 'Uncle Tom.' "

Massey, now 68, is dean emeritus and professor at large of the Anderson University School of Theology (Ind.) and interim dean of the chapel at Tuskegee University in Alabama. With his neatly trimmed mustache and stately demeanor, Massey was sometimes said to resemble his friend Martin King. He often spent time with King during his trips to Detroit and was aware of his distress and self-doubt over the fragmenting civil-rights scene. Massey points out that, although King remained committed to methods of nonviolence, he was making a clear shift in his rhetoric. "He had moved on to speaking out strongly against poverty and America's participation in the Vietnam War," recalls Massey. "He was, in fact, sounding quite radical."

He wrote in his last book, Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community?: "Whites, it must frankly be said, are not putting in a mass effort to re-educate themselves out of their racial ignorance. … It is an aspect of their sense of superiority that the white people of America believe they have so little to learn."

Despite his personal struggles, in early 1968 King was working to organize a massive Poor People's Campaign in Washington for both Negroes and whites. In late March, he arrived in Memphis to support a Negro sanitation workers' strike. His popularity had long since waned. fbi director J. Edgar Hoover (and others) fancied him a "Communist," and for many white Americans, Martin Luther King and urban unrest had become synonymous. The anger and hostility he had been encountering at different protest events, particularly in the large cities, began visibly to erode King's spirit. Says Massey, "In the pictures of him marching in Memphis, you can see the grimmest look on his face. He was very tense. And the speech he gave the night before his death reveals how much he was expecting hostility to rise against him."

Dr. King taught us that Christianity could be a vigorous voice for conscience in this nation.

On the night of April 3, a violent thunderstorm drenched Memphis as a somber-looking Martin Luther King took the stage at the Mason Temple (denominational headquarters of the Church of God in Christ). Despite the furious storm, an enthusiastic crowd of 2,000 people had gathered to hear King deliver what would become his final speech. After an impassioned appeal to the audience to continue the work the movement had begun, King's address concluded on an eerie note. "We've got some difficult days ahead," he preached. "But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop . …Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. … But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And he's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land."

The next evening the 39-year-old preacher was shot down as he stood on the second-floor balcony of Memphis's Lorraine Motel.

Massey remembers being at a Detroit television studio that night with his church choir to record a local broadcast for the following Sunday. "While we were preparing to tape, the studio announcer called me aside and told me the news. My heart sank. I didn't tell the choir until after the taping, because I knew they'd be too upset to sing. After King's death, something in me just died."

Something died within the Negro community as well. King's assassination sparked riots in 125 cities, which led to 21,270 arrests and 46 deaths.

JUST NOT GETTING ITIn September 1968, five months later, Glen Kehrein, a white senior from Moody Bible Institute, was on a student retreat at the Green Lake Assembly Grounds, an American Baptist camping and convention in central Wisconsin.

Sharing the huge convention grounds with Moody that year were Ralph Abernathy, Jesse Jackson, and other leaders from the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. The SCLC had been turned upside-down since the murder of King, and it was time to pause and take account of the organization's future.

Kehrein was familiar with a few of the SCLC's surviving leaders, but King had intrigued him the most. He had heard about King's reputation as a "Communist" and troublemaker, and Christian leaders had warned him about the dangerous theology contained in King's "social gospel." Kehrein didn't know what to believe. After King's murder, the streets of Chicago had turned into a war zone. The sounds, sights, and aromas of sniper fire, burning buildings, and armed National Guardsmen were fresh in his mind. Even the relationships between black and white students at Moody seemed to carry some underlying strain. "I saw the racial divide vividly in the dorm when King's shooting was announced," Kehrein recalls. "There was a completely different reaction between the blacks and whites. It was not that dissimilar from the conflicting reactions that came after the O. J. Simpson verdict. We definitely were not on the same page."

In Wisconsin, Kehrein wanted to put those disturbing memories out of his head. But he somehow knew they were matters he needed to confront. He was hopeful when his professor announced that Ralph Abernathy had agreed to share a few words with the Moody students, that perhaps King's closest colleague would be able to put some context to his confusion about race in America. "Dr. Abernathy completed his talk and entertained questions from my class. But with all that history in the room, and all that had transpired in the civil-rights movement over the last 10 years, the majority of questions we ended up asking him were about his personal salvation and his understanding of the conservative tenets of evangelical doctrine." Kehrein was stupefied. "Dr. Abernathy was gracious and attempted to accommodate all our questions, but we were clueless. I think our narrow focus said a lot about the evangelical mindset during that era."

Thirty years after the incident at Green Lake, Glen Kehrein is the executive director of Circle Urban Ministries on Chicago's West Side. Through years of ministry in the inner city and committed relationships across racial lines, Kehrein has worked out much of the angst he felt as a Moody student. "I now understand the black community's huge public catharsis of anger and frustration and hopelessness that followed King's assassination," he says. "While I knew the white community's response to King was not a good measure of the man, back then I wasn't astute enough to fully grasp what was going on among African Americans. And I think many white evangelicals have been on a similar journey since King's death."

"White evangelicals were, for the most part, absent during the civil-rights struggle," admits National Association of Evangelicals (NAE) president Don Argue. Since assuming the NAE helm three years ago, Argue, a white Assemblies of God minister, has worked hard to forge relationships between black and white Christians, spearheading joint meetings between his group and the National Black Evangelical Association (NBEA), and assigning blacks to key positions in his organization. But he realizes the road to strong relationships will be a long and delicate one. According to Argue, white evangelicals missed their golden opportunity the first time. "When African Americans had their Moses in the person of Martin Luther King, we were either indifferent or, in some cases, critical and hostile toward what was happening."

Congressman J. C. Watts agrees. "We should have had more evangelical churches willing to be involved in the civil-rights movement during its heyday," says Watts. "Evangelicals should have been involved simply because it was the right thing to do. If there's an injustice against my fellow man, I have an obligation to say it's wrong, not as a politician but as a Christian."

Watts, the only black Republican in Congress (R-Okla.) and an ordained Baptist minister, speaks freely of his affinity for King, which is indicative of the evolution of King's legacy since his death. Today, conservatives from both the political and religious realms talk unashamedly of the positive contributions of the slain civil-rights leader. However, in King's day, his nonviolent resistance and ambiguous theology were considered suspect. Even evangelist Billy Graham, who since 1953 had worked to desegregate his crusades and had recruited Negro evangelist Howard O. Jones to his team in 1957, was reticent to cast his wholehearted support to King's movement. "Some extreme Negro leaders are going too far and too fast," Graham wrote in 1960. "Only the supernatural love of God through changed men can solve this burning question."

But King saw his "social gospel" as a natural outworking of God's "supernatural love." He told Playboy magazine in 1965, "The essence of the Epistles of Paul is that Christians should rejoice at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believe. The projection of a social gospel, in my opinion, is the true witness of a Christian life. … The church once changed society. It was then a thermostat of society. But today I feel that too much of the church is merely a thermometer, which measures rather than molds popular opinion."

In today's hostile climate of clashing ideologies, King would be considered "politically incorrect," says Congressman Watts. "Today people would say to Dr. King, 'No, no, keep your religious beliefs out of politics—remember the separation of church and state.' But everything Dr. King stood for was because of his faith. His faith transcended race and politics."

On the other hand, at least a few Christian thinkers are not convinced of the religious purity of King's public message. According to the late Spencer Perkins, King's theme of nonviolence and love was probably more a matter of pragmatism than faith. "Like Gandhi, King used it as a strategy to win a battle when the power and numbers were not on his side," said Perkins. "King talked about love overcoming hate. But in my own experience, when we were taking part in marches and demonstrations, it was not love that was making us do it; it was our desire to win."

Eugene Rivers, pastor of inner-city Boston's Azusa Christian Community and an outspoken black voice on matters of race in America, believes King's nonviolent methods were outcroppings of the man's political savvy. "King understood that you could not successfully win the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act by appealing to the historical grievances of black people," he says. "So the moral pageantry of the 'beloved community' was tactically the only way to secure those victories."

Dolphus Weary is less cynical about King's motives. For Weary, Martin Luther King was precisely the kind of preacher southern blacks needed. "I used to see many preachers being exploitative of the black community," he says. "They would say stuff like, 'It's OK that you're going into the back door of restaurants. It's OK that you're going to second-class schools. It's OK that you're the last hired and the first fired. Because one day you're going to heaven, and everything will be all right.' But then King came along and said, 'No! You're not a second-class citizen. God is concerned about you right now. Go vote. Go stand up for your rights.' It was what we needed to hear."

White evangelicals should have borne witness to the truth of the gospel by standing with their black brothers and sisters and opposing racist terrorism against black churches, observes Rivers. He adds that conservative evangelicalism can only blame itself for the liberalism in King's theology since in his day blacks were not welcomed at evangelical colleges and seminaries. "White evangelicals blew an opportunity to shape the intellectual and moral development of King and an entire generation of church-based civil-rights leaders," says Rivers.

Despite their tardiness, Kehrein knows evangelicals have matured in their view of King. "For the most part, evangelicals today no longer have the 'social gospel' concern. They have come to see that the gospel must have social implications and have recognized the great contributions of King and other civil-rights pioneers."

Clearly it is a new day among white evangelicals. This decade alone has witnessed groups as diverse as Pentecostals, Southern Baptists, and the Promise Keepers offering public repentance for past racial transgressions. Nonetheless, NAE's Argue believes there remains a persistent inability among white evangelicals to comprehend the race issue.

"Whenever I go to a black Christian gathering, I find that the subject of racism is always on the agenda, and it's near the top. They're not whining or complaining, but they are deeply concerned," explains Argue. "On the other hand, you go to a white meeting and very rarely, if ever, is racism on the agenda. I've come to the conclusion that it's because African Americans deal with racism on an ongoing basis. They have to justify who they are when they cash a check more often than a white person does."

WHAT OF THE DREAM?In 1963 on a jetliner zooming from Atlanta to Los Angeles, Martin Luther King sat quietly, peering outside from his window seat. He was drinking in the view of the serene Appalachian Mountains below when the plane suddenly bounced and jerked in a fit of turbulence. King looked up from his pillow, flashed a smile at the Time magazine reporter seated beside him and said, "I guess that's Birmingham down below."

Birmingham was turbulent territory then. King called the city the greatest stronghold of Jim Crow in the South.

Today, if King were to fly over Birmingham, he would experience friendlier skies. In a city once governed by white supremacists, there is now an African-American mayor. In the downtown district, not far from where attack dogs and fire hoses once assailed nonviolent protesters, there stands the Civil Rights Institute. Inside this sobering memorial of a not-so-distant America, visitors can review the artifacts of the Birmingham revolution and actually explore the jail cell that housed King during his famous imprisonment.

A few miles northeast of downtown, in a low-income neighborhood near the Birmingham airport, stands a small church building, surrounded by rows of public-housing projects. The sign out front reads: DOERS OF THE WORD CHURCH. And the members of the interracial congregation of 150, on any given day, can be seen side-by-side serving the hungry and homeless from their church-run soup kitchen. On Sunday mornings, the half-black, half-white body of believers celebrates their common bond in Christ during an exuberant, cross-cultural worship service. The little church seems a million protest marches away from the Jim Crow spirit that stifled the community in Martin Luther King's day. According to Arthur Johnson, the African-American senior pastor of Doers of the Word, his church is a testament to the enduring power of King's vision.

"Dr. King's dream of his children 'not being judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character'—we're living that out every day," says Johnson. "Eleven o'clock Sunday morning at Doers of the Word is definitely not 'the most segregated hour in America.' "

So if Martin Luther King's Dream of an integrated and benevolent society is the ideal by which Christians and the nation should measure their progress in race relations, how are we doing?

Johnson's congregation seems to be an exception. Though an increasing number of U.S. congregations have become intentionally cross-cultural, in many ways local churches are America's final frontier of segregated institutions. "The church is segregated now because that's what we like," said Perkins. "In King's era, churches were segregated because whites didn't want to be around blacks. Now it's two-sided. Today we both choose to be separate."

But Rivers doesn't think that is necessarily a bad thing. In fact, Rivers, who regularly raises eyebrows with his unsympathetic views regarding King, argues that King's perspective on integration was too idealistic. He explains: "King's theological and racial liberalism gave inadequate attention to the primacy of culture, tradition, and history. The truth is, both blacks and whites identify with their particular traditions—and that's not wrong. It only becomes wrong when it promotes injustice." For Rivers, the "remarkable irony" is that King never sought to desegregate black churches. "How is it that the apostle of integration never did this?" Rivers asks. "My sense is that he understood that it was not in the best interest of black preachers to surrender their power by desegregating black churches."

Perkins, late son of racial-reconciliation pioneer John Perkins, disagreed with Rivers. "Being segregated is a weakness of the church. Everybody is comfortable being around their own kind. But that type of thinking puts comfort and culture over Christ."

Robert Franklin, of the Interdenominational Theological Center, says he is "cautiously optimistic." However, Franklin thinks the most pressing racial matters lie in the "institutional" domain. "When one looks at the expansion of the black middle class and the ongoing dismantling of racist legislation and customs throughout the culture, we have to acknowledge that we've come a long way in a short period of time," he says. "But when one looks at the disparate economic culture between blacks and whites and at corporate boardrooms where there is a relatively small number of people of color and women, it's clear that we're still lagging."

Rivers is less generous: "Much of the current race-relations discourse, like what happens at Promise Keepers, substitutes fundamentalist hugfests for the kind of deep, substantive dialogue that has a genuine impact on institutional decisions and public policy. Too much of the reconciliation rhetoric of white evangelicals focuses on interpersonal piety without any radically biblical conception of racial justice."

Oberlin College religion professor Albert G. Miller believes the church has a watered-down understanding of King's vision. "I think we are stuck in our image of King at the 1963 March on Washington," he says. "The 'I Have a Dream' King was a kinder, gentler King. There was a more complicated man that evolved after that point who was very frustrated with what he saw with the limited progress of blacks. In his latter days, King was not just protesting for blacks to eat at the lunch counter, but for blacks to have employment at the lunch counter and to own it."

Cheryl Sanders, professor of Christian Ethics at Howard University and senior pastor of Washington's Third Street Church of God, concurs. "The problem with the Dream language is that it draws attention away from the reality of what King was speaking about throughout his life. There's a danger of only seeing him as a dreamer, and if we only see him as a dreamer, we too easily let ourselves off the hook from dealing with the realities that he was dealing with."

Toward the end of his life, King returned to his Baptist theological roots, "stripping himself … of Protestant liberalism's pieties," writes Willy Jennings in (March/April 1998), emphasizing the words of Jesus and the coming judgment.

Denver Seminary's Malcolm Newton adds: "King and the other Christians of the civil-rights movement put their lives on the line. Protesting, marching, getting bombed and lynched and thrown into jail hundreds of times for the sake of biblical justice. That's a legacy that King left for us, and the church hasn't grabbed on to it yet."

Still, others are guardedly encouraged. "Compared to where we were, I think we've done very well," says Mission Mississippi's Weary. "People are talking today who haven't talked in a long time. There's still a long way to go, but at least we're talking about it."

In the meantime, away from the din of philosophical debates and unfulfilled hopes, the everyday business of coexisting together must go on. And one senses there might be something to learn from unheralded efforts like Arthur Johnson's Birmingham contingent. Says Johnson: "I know we've still got a lot of issues to work through, but as long as we're pursuing the Dream, I believe God is pleased."

Edward Gilbreath is associate editor of New Man magazine.

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