I will have to appeal to your imagination as I try to paint three pictures. I can see them quite vividly myself, but I have neither the canvas, the brush, the colors, nor the ability to produce real-life landscapes. So I'm afraid there's no option but to paint them with words. Try at least to visualize the pictures as you read.
The first landscape
Imagine a rugged, parched desert, with a few dried-up bushes struggling for life, and enough rough stones to make tramping less than pleasant. A cloudless blue sky is broken only by a pitiless sun that emblazons the scene with harsh light. In the center, to make composition difficult, is a rugged mountain of reddish sandstone, bare, austere, and inhospitable. And on the desert sands are about a half million men with their wives and children and their family belongings.
That's about it. The men seem to be circling to the left, as men will when they're lost. In fact, it looks as if their course will circumnavigate the mountain, and indications are that it's not their first time around. You don't need to be in a hurry to take in the details; there's plenty of time. According to the records of Moses, the marching around and around the mountain continued for forty years.
It's no wonder that God stepped into the picture one day and said, "Ye have compassed this mountain long enough: turn you northward" (Deut. 2:3).
As far as we can tell, the people had settled down to the desert routine as though it was the destiny for which God had called them out of Egypt. Not that the wilderness where they wandered was the most hospitable terrain in the world for travelers. Those who go there today are surprised that so many people could survive in such an environment for forty days, let alone forty years.
Imagine it, forty frightful years under that pitiless sun, circling a mountain! Yet apparently they became comfortable in their discomfort and were reconciled to the program. You can get used to almost anything. That's one of the misfortunes of our human nature. There are words to describe the process. We say that we have "acclimatized" or maybe "settled down." Or we could use an uglier figure and say "stuck in the mud."
But to get back to our picture, it seems people can lose their sense of direction and be about as content marching around in circles as if they were on a straight path to the pearly gates of home, sweet home! That's how Israel was in our picture, and God had to step in: "Ye have compassed this mountain long enough: turn you northward."
It should be emphasized that these were men on the march. They marched and marched for forty years. They were active, organized men. Men on the move; men with a program. It's true they weren't moving like a racehorse to a fixed point by the shortest route at the fastest possible pace. It was more like the movement of a rocking horse. The point seems to have been action rather than progress!
So now we have a clear picture of a movement on the march, around and around the mountain outside the Promised Land. Compassed is the word the Bible uses. The point of the compass was stuck in the summit of the mountain and the other leg described a great circle around and around and around it, on and on for forty years! The incredible thing is that with all that activity they weren't one day's march nearer home at the end of the time! It's quite a scene to contemplate. Perhaps we ought to stop at this point and just gaze at the picture and think.
Let's imagine it's a moving picture now, rather than an oil on canvas. Can you see them striking camp, wrapping the tents, winding up the ropes, dividing up the load between the members of the families? The dismantling of the sanctuary must have been quite a job, but no doubt that became routine with time. The priests shoulder the sacred ark and lead on. The sacred furniture follows. And then the tribes fall in behind the priests—men, women, and children, each with a pack of camp gear. No doubt they were organized to the last detail. The whole thing was orderly, with careful, detailed planning. Scripture says they went up "harnessed," which means "by rank"—each in his appointed place and order. Forty years gave them plenty of time to perfect the organization. You can be sure there was an impressive ad ministration.
Since the landscape has become a moving picture, let's intrude ourselves. "Just a minute, there. Where are you marching today?"
"Well, nowhere special; we've nothing in particular in mind. We're circling the mountain, you know."
"What's your ultimate objective?"
"Canaan," the old hands say.
"Hold it a minute, then. Aren't you heading the opposite way?"
"I guess we are."
"Anything likely to happen today?"
"Not really. I mean, not if we can help it! We're out here dodging giants as far as possible, and walled cities and all that. We avoid contact with the foe and conflict with enemies at all costs. This way our image has improved tremendously over the past forty years. We seem to get along nicely these days on the desert circuit.''
Now let's step back out of the picture and consider what we've seen. Could it be that this strange activity had actually become an end in itself? Was it, perhaps, a substitute for what they ought to have been doing? While strenuous enough, was it easier, maybe, than tackling giants and walled cities? Less than ideal, could it have been safer and easier than the alternatives, which, as the evil spies re ported, were far from inviting?
But the main question is, Could it happen today? We're all familiar with the fact that, basically, human nature doesn't change much. Some think it could happen here. Others say it has already happened. There's an opinion abroad that if God spoke out this very day, He'd repeat what He said to Israel: "Ye have compassed this mountain long enough: turn you northward." Perhaps He'd use a modern idiom and say, "Quit substituting activity for progress, innocuous occupation for the real purpose of your existence," but the meaning would be the same.
The second landscape
The second picture is twentieth-century modern. I should say right away that I am indebted for the picture, both sight and insight, to John Stott's little book Our Guilty Silence, which I once had the good fortune to find on a book shelf in Johannesburg. Most of the material from which I mean to compose my second landscape has to do with plans for the conversion of England.
Stott goes back to the time of World War I and says that the Church of Eng land, with admirable sensitivity, realized things weren't as they ought to be. Something was called for. One gets the distinct impression of men lining up near a mountain, preparing to march!
In 1916 a popular move came from laymen who approached the Archbishop of Canterbury, pleading that something be done. The book says, "He demurred." No doubt the man was busy with the appointed round and the daily tasks.
But this laymen's appeal was not entirely fruitless. The archbishop had second thoughts, and eventually got around to organizing a scheme called "The National Mission of Repentance and Hope." Now you must admit that's an impressive title. But it seems that little was done outside the church, for Stott says that "contact with the unchurched was minimal." And yet something had been done. They were at least looking in the right direction.
In 1917 the bishops and archbishops set up a "Committee of Enquiry on Evangelism and the Church." This committee deliberated for a whole year. Nor was it lacking in tangible results. 1. They produced a report! 2. They formulated a passable definition of evangelism. That was fine. 3. They emphasized the importance of evangelism. That was even finer. 4. They reviewed the results of the National Mission, which didn't take much space, seeing that, practically speaking, there weren't any. 5. They recommended the establishing of an evangelistic committee.
There's a familiar ring about all this. It's well that we're working on a land scape and not making a mirror! One gets the feel of sand beneath the feet and the impression of a broad circuit around a mountain. And indeed, we are told quite openly, "Whatever evangelistic momentum may have been generated petered out in organizational proposals."
Maybe we ought to sit down in the sand for a bit and think about that. It "petered out in organizational proposals." Had you ever contemplated such a possibility? Could there be too many committees, too many proposals, too many resolutions, and too many minutes wasting too many hours?
The upshot of all this activity seems to be that things rocked along till the war ended. And then with peace to enjoy, all was quiet on the conversion front until the jolt of World War II. For some reason this awakened the church again into "Evangelistic Concern."
With daring faith, seventeen days be fore the landings in Sicily and a year before D-day, they called the assembly and passed another "Resolution on Evangelism," and it was "a fine resolution." That terminology has a familiar face, doesn't it? We have met before, somewhere, perhaps. Well, the resolution went like this: "Recognizing the need for urgent and definite action, we request the archbishops [we'd say the presidents] to appoint a commission . . . to survey the whole problem of modern evangelism with special reference to the spiritual needs and prevailing intellectual outlook of the nonworshiping members of the community, and to report on the organization and methods by which such needs can most effectively be met."
And so the old rocking horse was in motion again, with a fresh coat of paint, some new hair in his mane, and a new tail. It's encouraging to see movement, isn't it? Please don't spoil my picture by looking for progress!
By Christmas an impressive commission of fifty members was appointed. There were four bishops, with a fifth in the chair, twenty-four clergymen, twenty-one laymen, and one lay woman! William Temple, Archbishop of Canter bury at the time, gave the opening ad dress when this commission met. Temple died with the commission still meeting, its work unfinished. But the commission proved to be indefatigable. Relentlessly they pushed on with their task. They held meetings in spite of wartime hazards—the phosphorus bombs falling and the robot-bomb men ace. One of the laymen was called from the very committee room itself to the smoking ruins of his home.
The purpose of the commission was eminently clear. It was summarized in three plain words that canceled all possibility of a mistake: "To stimulate evangelism."
Their work was thorough and exhaustive. Another commission somewhere may have equaled their efforts but certainly not surpassed them. They produced a 172-page report! It surveyed the contemporary situation, summarized the gospel, and argued, quite correctly, for the apostolate of the laity and indeed of the whole church. They outlined ways and means of evangelism. And to leave no stone unturned, they even brought in thorough recommendations on preevangelism. One appreciates good groundwork.
The report was printed and released in double-quick time by the printing house, which seemed to sense some kind of urgency. It came out on June 19, 1945. But somehow it was not presented to the general assembly until November 14. There's no explanation of the delay. One gets vague notions that the report may have been referred to the year-end committee for action, but, of course, this may not be the explanation at all.
In the five months between the printing of the report and its presentation to the assembly, atomic bombs all but wiped the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki off the map, and the war in the East came to a sudden halt. On the home front, Winston Churchill, having served his turn, was dropped. Men breathed freely with the advent of peace on earth at last. And they felt much less keenly their need for God.
Nevertheless the assembly "adopted the report"!
The archbishop urged that it now be translated into action and not pigeon holed in the minutes. He said that would be a great disaster. But as Stott's book concludes, "That's how it ended—disaster."
However, in fairness we ought to look at all sides of the mountain as we march around, and summarize the lasting results from all this activity:
1. A 172-page printed report on evangelism;
2. A new church information office with sundry illustrated brochures and a certain amount of public-relations material:
3. A new catechism, which people liked less than the old one;
4. Additional clergy conventions and committees; and
5. Three new illustrated church periodicals, one of them in color.
But England—what about England? She lifted up both hands to God, but with the palms outward, pushing Him off.
And the church (using the term in the broadest sense now) moved into the new era, organized, intellectual, and cultured, no longer marching around the mountain but still circumnavigating! She's on wheels now, riding around the mountain in spite of the incredible price of gasoline.
There's an idea abroad that, whether on foot or on wheels, the church needs nothing more desperately than to turn northward and to face her real, but neglected, task.
The third landscape
This is the picture that really matters, because we're all in it. That always makes a difference, doesn't it? Land scape three has for its background a vast territory. I'm part of it, and so are you. It's a big, busy operation, many-faceted and complex in the extreme. We face a bewildering and diverse array of peoples, cultures, and languages. The built-in frustrations are vexing, but it's big and challenging in its possibilities. And here and there it's inspiring, where human effort is touched into a flame by the divine spark.
This one has to be a busy picture, though "busyness" in a picture is said to be a fatal fault. But it's a movement we plan to portray. At least, we want it to move like that racehorse, galloping for the wire. We simply can't afford the luxury of rocking up and down. It just won't do to be found running like the jogger who, lacking a football field or a park nearby, does his mile running in place. He expends energy and there's plenty of motion, but no actual progress.
And so, as we think of this third picture, the right questions to be asking are these: Are we attacking the walled for tresses, the concrete jungles, or are we dodging them and walking about the desert? Is our activity geared to catching up with the giants and slaying them and possessing the land for God? Or could a lot of our activity be a substitute for the real thing—the crucial encounter? It's basically an encounter with God; but if God's on one side, you can be certain the obverse side of the coin will show people ! And God will end up sending us out to face men, which is the only context in which evangelism can happen. It's at this very point that we will succeed or fail in our task. But are we focusing on that point? Or are we avoiding it? Are we substituting other activities to which we may even pin the sacred word evangelism, to give them a semblance of validity?
I'd like to go right on, but I'm over whelmed by a sense of inadequacy. We need a real artist to paint this picture. And so I'm turning away now from the real, taking a new canvas, and attempting a picture of what we ought to be about. It will, I think, be much more profitable.
There are plenty of pigments on the palette. We aren't in any sense short of stuff. The Scriptures are clear and explicit, and there are lots of texts. We have the Spirit of Prophecy, too.
I always think of the church in the early days as having two departments only. I'd like to simplify still further and settle for one, but I think we'll have to admit to two. Let's think of them as the Department of Internal Affairs and the Department of External Affairs. To simplify the picture a bit further, we could use time-honored Bible terms: pastoral care and evangelistic outreach.
Paul built his life around these two focal points. He had two objectives: "the care of ... the churches" (2 Cor. 11:28), and to "preach him among the heathen" (Gal. 1:16). Now I know that elsewhere he lists nine gifts operating in the church, and in another place lists five kinds of workers. But I'm convinced that the nine and the five and any other configuration you may find in Scripture actually compress into two, and only two, kinds of activity—the pastoral and the evangelistic; the care of the churches and the confrontation of the world with the gospel.
Now what I want to suggest is that we ought to seek by all means within our power to keep these two clear objectives in mind. Then it would be well for us to analyze every activity of this organization and try to define its exact relation ship to either objective one or objective two. If such a relationship is not apparent, or if it takes more than one page to define it, we might even consider the radical option of withdrawing our sup port for this activity. I have nothing specific in mind except the possibility. The matter calls for investigation.
Then, when everything has been added up, we should be prepared to find that some activities are right on target. (There'll not be many.) Some strike it only obliquely; others merely shoot in the general direction of the target. This should help us decide in which areas firepower ought to be concentrated.
When I worked with a timber mill, I remember that the leftover wood brought us, on occasion, a few dollars as firewood. There were times (very few) when we even managed to make a few cents from the sawdust. But we were always aware that our existence depended on delivering building timber, rather than firewood or sawdust. It's been a long time since I left the forest, but this rather practical impression re mains. What's learned in the "university of tough times" tends to stay.
As one reads the accounts of the New Testament church and those who la bored in it, one can't help getting a clear picture of the total witness of the ideal church led by men with the essential gifts into direct action in specific areas. The picture that emerges is that there is a work to do in the church, and there is a work to do in the world, and that's it. Nothing else matters. Our task is to direct the energies of the church toward these objectives. We should see that no activity takes on an independent life of its own, lest that life become cancerous.
A few bold strokes will complete my third landscape. The Master Himself is speaking: "My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work" (John 4:34). And a final word from Paul: "It pleased God, who . . . called me by his grace, to reveal his Son in me, that I might preach him among the heathen" (Gal. 1:15, 16).
The whole task of the whole church in the whole world and in the whole of time can't be any different, for the apostle says, "Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ" (1 Cor. 11:1).
