THE ASSEMBLY OF MOCKERS
"There are at least three things a person can do when he makes a mistake. He can resolve that he will never make another, which is fine, but impracticable; he may let that mistake make a coward of him, which is foolish; or he can make up his mind that he will let it be his teacher, and so profit by the experience that if the situation comes his way again, he will know just how to meet it.
The latter course is the path of wisdom. "To err is human," and incidentally, all men do it. Many an auto driver roundly condemns another driver's blunder only to later make a worse one himself. Physicians have made mistakes—and some of them fatal. Teachers, ministers, generals, presidents, employers, and employees have at one time or another fallen on their individual or collective faces. More to be pitied than this is the "mocker" who self-righteously condemns in another what he condones in himself. Said Jeremiah, "1 sat not in the assembly of the mockers." Fortunate man—for it is only a matter of time before the mocker becomes the mocked.
E. E. C.
RIDING ON ASSES OR FLYING IN JETS
One of the favorite words in religious circles today is "relevance." We must make religion relevant to the twentieth-century man, so we accentuate the modernist trend as far as we can.
Because "everyone " loves to dance, dancing has entered into some churches. A Washington, D.C., pastor recently arranged for a ballet dancing program in his church, only to find at the last moment that the performer was a "belly" dancer. The Scottish pastor, who pronounces ballet in the European way (bal-ay), courageously canceled the program amid some criticism. But the fact remains that reputable churches have embraced various forms of art such as ballet dancing, the drama, jazz music—sometimes even as part of corporate worship—in order to make religion relevant to this generation.
Is it correct to assume that if we make religion "relevant" this generation will accept it? Relevance in practice divides Christians into modernists, revolutionary enthusiasts, on the one hand, and die-hard conservative reactionaries, on the other. One side wants to take the things that have been and turn them upside down, explode them, get rid of them. The other therefore rises up in wrath and will not budge an inch from the things that father Abraham believed.
No denomination is free from these pressures. Obviously we cannot dress, eat, live, and worship exactly as did the Advent pioneers in the old frontier days. Nor can we surrender the basic truths they believed. What is the solution? Here in a nutshell is one author's suggestion:
"Those who are called to be God's people in this generation certainly want to hear a gospel which speaks plainly and clearly to them—but they want to be able to recognize it as the eternal gospel, speaking from the 1st century to the 20th, which was as true when men rode on asses as it is when they fly in jets."
—BERNARD PAWLEY, Prism, December, 1962.
We Adventists love the symbol of an angel flying with "the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth" (Rev. 14:6).
How relevant to "the everlasting gospel" are the sermons your people hear from week to week?
H. W. L.
POOR PASTOR
Recognition is often slowest in coming to the most deserving. This is too often true of the pastor. Upon this man rests the total productive responsibility of the church. If church buildings are built, he must build them. If goals are raised, he must raise them. If souls are won, he must win them. He must preach, pray, counsel, and correct. Board meetings, business meetings, marriages, and funerals are forever his.
Who is this faceless man? He is most likely a college graduate and a family man, with a sense of humor and a growing concern for the manners and morals of the church and the world. Though his needs are supplied, he nevertheless hopes that the "rainy day" will not come, at least not while establishing a savings account is still a good intention. He is undoubtedly a man who loves his members and is given to performing hundreds of small kindnesses for them—often unsolicited. His is the terrible responsibility of adjusting world need to his flock's capacity, and of resisting pressure while assuming responsibility.
It is he who must divine the fine line between the peripheral and central, preserving center-stage for Christ alone while meeting the heavy demands of organization. The very nature of his calling requires that he daily differentiate between Christian loyalty and the "rubber stamp." And it is not easy to stand like Luther while harmonizing like John the Beloved. But this he does, and that, each passing day. Poor pastor? Perish the thought! He is the richest man on earth!
E. E. C.