CHAPTER VI

AGENCIES OF CONSTRUCTION

I

THE CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD

We have all been asking, “What is the matter with the Church? Why is it

so weak and ineffective? Why does it exercise such a feeble influence

in the world to-day? Why do men care so little for its message and its

mission?” There are no doubt many answers to these questions, but one

answer concerns us here. It is this: We who compose the Church do not

sufficiently realize that God is a living God and that the Church is

intended to be the living body through which he works in the world and

through which he reveals himself. We think of him as far away in space

and remote in time, a God who created once and who worked wonders in

ancient times long past, but we do not, as we should, vividly think of

him as a living reality, as near to us as the air is to the flying bird

or the water to the swimming fish. We suppose that the Church is made

up of just people, and is a human convenience for getting things done in

the world. We do not see as we should that it is meant to be both divine

and human and that it never is properly a Church unless God lives in it,

reveals himself by means of it and works his spiritual work in the world

through it.

This truth of the real Presence breaks through many of Christ’s great

sayings and was one of the most evident features of the experience of the

early Church. “Wherever in all the world two or three shall gather in my

name there am I in the midst of them.” “Lo, I am with you always, even

unto the end of the world.” “Wherever there is one alone,” according to

the newly found “saying” of Jesus, “I am with him. Raise the stone and

there thou shalt find me; cleave the wood and there am I.”

Not once alone was the early Church invaded by a life and power from

beyond itself as at Pentecost. The consciousness which characterized this

“upper room” experience was repeated in some degree wherever a Church

of the living God came into existence, as “a tiny island in a sea of

surrounding paganism.” To belong to the Church meant to St. Paul to be

“joined to the Lord in one spirit,” while the Church itself in his great

phrase is the body of Christ and each individual a member in particular

of that body.

What a difference it would make if we could rise to the height of St.

Paul’s expectation and be actually “builded together for an habitation

of God through the Spirit!” We try plenty of other expedients. We

popularize our message; we take up fads; we adjust as far as we can to

the tendencies of the time; but only one thing really works after all and

that is having the Church become the organ of the living God, and having

it “charged” with what Paul so often calls the power of God—“the power

that worketh in us.”

I saw a car wheel recently that had been running many miles with the

brake clamped tight against it. It was white hot and it glowed with

heat and light until it seemed almost transparent in its extraordinary

luminosity. Those Christians in the upper room at Pentecost were baptized

with fire so that the whole personality of each of them was glowing with

heat and light, for the fire had gone all through them. They suddenly

became conscious that their divine Leader who was no longer visible

with them had become an invisible presence and a living power working

through them. It is no wonder that all Jerusalem and its multitudinous

sojourners were at once awakened to the fact that something novel had

happened.

Our controversies which have divided us have been controversies about

things out at the periphery, not about realities at the heart and center.

We disagree about baptism, and we are at variance over problems of

organization, ministry, and ordination, but the thing that really matters

is the depth of conviction, consciousness of God, certainty of communion

and fellowship with the Spirit. These experiences unite and never divide.

There is after all, in spite of all our gaps and chasms, only one Church.

It is the Church of the living God. We are named with many names. We bear

the sign of a particular denomination, but if we belong truly to the

Church, then we belong to the great Church of the living God. It is built

upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself

being the chief cornerstone, in whom the building, fitly framed together,

grows into an holy temple in the Lord. This is “the blessed community,”

the living, expanding fellowship of vital faith, and it has the promise

of the future, whether conferences on “faith and order” succeed or not,

because it is the Church of the living God.

II

THE NURSERY OF SPIRITUAL LIFE

We are coming more and more to realize that religion attaches to the

simple, elemental aspects of our human life. We shall not look for it in

a few rare, exalted, and so-called “sacred” aspects of life, separated

off from the rest of life and raised to a place apart. Religion to be

real and vital must be rooted in life itself and it must express itself

through the whole life. It should begin, where all effective education

must begin, in the home, which should be the nursery of spiritual life.

The Christian home is the highest product of civilization; in fact there

is nothing that can be called civilization where the home is absent. The

savage is on his way out of savagery as soon as he can create a home and

make family life at all sacred. The real horror of the “slums” in our

great cities is that there are no homes there, but human beings crowded

indiscriminately into one room. It is the real trouble with the “poor

whites” whether in the South or in the North that they have failed to

preserve the home as a sacred center of life.

One of the first services of the foreign missionary is to help to

establish homes among the people whom he hopes to Christianize. In short,

the home is the true unit of society. It determines what the individual

shall be; it shapes the social life; it makes the Church possible; it is

the basis of the state and nation. A society of mere individual units is

inconceivable. Men and women, each for self, and with no holy center for

family life, could never compose either a Church or a State.

Christianity has created the home as we know it, and that is its highest

service to the world, for the kingdom of heaven would be realized if

the Christian home were universal. The mother’s knee is still the

holiest place in the world; and the home life determines more than all

influences combined what the destiny of the boy or girl shall be. The

formation of disposition and early habits of thought and manner as well

as the fundamental emotions and sentiments do more to shape and fix the

permanent character than do any other forces in the world.

We may well rejoice in the power of the Sunday school, the Christian

ministry, the secular school, the college, the university; but all

together they do not measure up to the power of the homes which are

silently, gradually determining the future lives of those who will

compose the Sunday school, the Church, the school, and the college.

The woman who is successful in making a true home, where peace and love

dwell, in which the children whom God gives her feel the sacredness and

holy meaning of life, where her husband renews his strength for the

struggles and activities of his life, and in which all unite to promote

the happiness and highest welfare of each other—that woman has won the

best crown there is in this life, and she has served the world in a

very high degree. The union of man and woman for the creation of a home

breathing an atmosphere of love is Christ’s best parable of the highest

possible spiritual union where the soul is the bride and he is the

Eternal Bridegroom, and they are one.

It seems strange that these vital matters are so little emphasized or

regarded. Few things in fact are more ominous than the signs of the

disintegration of the home as a nursery of spiritual life. We can,

perhaps, weather catastrophes which may break down many of our ancient

customs and even obliterate some of the institutions which now seem

essential to civilization; but the home is a fundamental necessity for

true spiritual nurture and culture, and if it does not perform its

function the world will drift on toward unspeakable moral disasters.

III

THE DEMOCRACY WE AIM AT

Democracy was in an earlier period only a political aim; it has now

become a deep religious issue. It must be discussed not only in caucuses

and conventions, but in churches as well. For a century and a quarter

“democracy” has been a great human battle word, and battle words never

have very exact definitions. It has all the time been charged with

explosive forces, and it has produced a kind of magic spell on men’s

minds during this long transitional period. But the word democracy has,

throughout this time, remained fluid and ill-defined—sometimes expressing

the loftiest aspirations and sometimes serving the coarse demagogue in

his pursuit of selfish ends.

The goal or aim of the early struggle after democracy was the overthrow

of human inequalities. Men were thought of in terms of individual

units, and the units were declared to be intrinsically equal. The

contention was made that they all had, or ought to have, the same rights

and privileges. This equality-note has, too, dominated the social and

economic struggles of the last seventy-five years. The focus has been

centered upon rights and privileges. Men have been thought of, all along,

as individual units, and the goal has been conceived in political and

economic terms. Democracy is still supposed, in many quarters, to be an

organization of society in which the units have equal political rights.

Much of the talk concerning democracy is still in terms of privileges.

It is a striving to secure opportunities and chances. The aim is the

attainment of a social order in which guarantee is given to every

individual that he shall have his full economic and political rights.

I would not, in the least, belittle the importance of these claims,

or underestimate the human gains which have been made thus far in the

direction of greater equality and larger freedom. But these achievements,

however valuable, are not enough. They can only form the base from which

to start the drive for a more genuine and adequate type of democracy. At

its best this scheme of “equality” is abstract and superficial. Nobody

will ever be satisfied with an achievement of flat equality. Persons can

never be reduced to homogeneous units. There are individual differences

woven into the very fiber of human life, and no type of democracy can

ever satisfy men like us until it gets beyond this artificial scheme and

learns to deal with the problem in more adequate fashion.

A genuinely Christian democracy such as the religious soul is after can

not be conceived in economic terms, nor can it be content with social

units of equality or sameness. We want a democracy that is vitally and

spiritually conceived, which recognizes and safeguards the irreducible

uniqueness of every member of the social whole. This means that we can

not deal with personal life in terms of external behavior. We can not

think of society as an aggregation of units possessing individual rights

and privileges. We shall no longer be satisfied to regard persons as

beings possessing utilitarian value or made for economic uses. We shall

forever transcend the instrumental idea. We shall begin rather with

the inalienable fact of spiritual worth as the central feature of the

personal life. This would mean that every person, however humble or

limited in scope or range, has divine possibilities to be realized; is

not a “thing” to be used and exploited, but a spiritual creation to be

expanded until its true nature is revealed. The democracy I want will

treat every human person as a unique, sacred, and indispensable member

of a spiritual whole, a whole which remains imperfect if even one of

its “little ones” is missing; and its fundamental axiom will be the

liberation and realization of the inner life which is potential in every

member of the human race.

On the economic and equality level we never reach the true conception

of personal life. Men are thought of as units having desires, needs,

and wants to be satisfied. We are, on this basis, aiming to achieve a

condition in which the desires, wants, and needs are well met, in which

each individual contributes his share of supplies to the common stock of

economic values, and receives in turn his equitable amount. I am dealing,

on the other hand, with a way of life which begins and ends, not with a

material value-concept at all, but rather with a central faith in the

intrinsic worth and infinite spiritual possibilities of every person in

the social organism—a democracy of spiritual agents.

It is true, no doubt, as Shylock said, that we all have “eyes, hands,

organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions,” are “subject to

diseases,” and “warmed and cooled by summer and winter.” “If you prick

us we bleed, if you tickle us we laugh, if you poison us we die,” and so

on. We do surely have wants and needs. We must consider values. We must

have food and clothes and houses. We must have some fair share of the

earth and its privileges. But that is only the basement and foundation

of real living, and we want a democracy that is supremely concerned with

the development of personality and with the spiritual organization of

society. We shall not make our estimates of persons on a basis of their

uses, or on the ground of their behavior as animal beings; we shall

live and work, if we are Christ’s disciples, in the faith that man is

essentially a spiritual being, in a world which is essentially spiritual,

and that we are committed to the task of awakening a like faith in others

and of helping realize an organic solidarity of persons who practice

this faith. Our rule of life would be something like the following: to

act everywhere and always as though we knew that we are members of a

spiritual community, each one possessed of infinite worth, of irreducible

uniqueness, and indispensable to the spiritual unity of the whole—a

community that is being continually enlarged by the faith and action of

those who now compose it, and so in some measure being formed by our

human effort to achieve a divine ideal.

The most important service we can render our fellow men is to awaken

in them a real faith in their own spiritual nature and in their own

potential energies, and to set them to the task of building the ideal

democracy in which personality is treated as sacred and held safe from

violation, infringement, or exploitation, and, more than that, in which

we altogether respect the worth and the divine hopes inherent in our

being as men.

IV

THE ESSENTIAL TRUTH OF CHRISTIANITY

There are few questions more difficult to answer than the question, What

is Christianity? Every attempt to answer it reveals the peculiar focus of

interest in the mind of the writer, but it leaves the main question still

asking for a new answer.

“Always it asketh, asketh,” and each answer, to say the least, is

inadequate. Harnack, Loisy, and Tolstoy have given three characteristic

answers to the great question. Their books are touched with genius and

will long continue to be read, but, like the other books, they, too,

reveal the writers rather than solve the central problem.

One of the greatest difficulties about the whole matter is the difficulty

of deciding where to look for the essential traits of Christianity.

Are they to be found in the teaching of Jesus? Are they revealed in

the message of St. Paul? Are they embodied in the Messianic hope? Are

they exhibited in the primitive apostolic Church? Are they set forth

in the great creeds of orthodoxy? Are they expressed in the imperial

authoritative Church? Are they to be discovered in the Protestantism

of the modern world? This catalogue of preliminary questions shows how

complicated the subject really is. To start in on any one of these lines

would be of necessity to arrive at a partial and one-sided answer.

Nowhere can we find pure and unalloyed Christianity; always we have

it mixed and combined with something else, more or less foreign to

it. The creeds contain a larger element of Greek philosophy than of

the pure original gospel. The Messianic hope is far more Jewish than

it is “Christian.” The imperial authoritative Church is Christianity

interpreted through the Roman genius for organization and merged

and fused with the age-long faiths and customs of pagan peoples.

Protestantism is an amazingly complex blend of ideas and ideals and

everywhere interwoven with the long processes of history. Even this did

not drop from the sky ready-made! Nor did St. Paul’s message flash in

upon him with the Damascus vision, as a pure heaven-presented truth. It

proves to be a very difficult task to find one’s way back to the pure,

unalloyed teaching of Jesus, and, strangely enough, the moment one

endeavors to constitute this by itself “Christianity,” and undertakes to

turn it into a set of commands and to make it a “new law,” he ends with a

dry legalism and not a vital, universal Christianity.

What, then, is Christianity? In answering this question we can not

confine ourselves to the teaching and the work of Jesus. Important as it

is to go “back to Jesus” that is not enough. We can not fully comprehend

the meaning of Christianity until we take into account the fact that

the invisible, resurrected Christ is the continuation through the ages

of the same revelation begun in the life and teaching of Jesus. Galilee

and Judea mark only one stage of the gospel, which is, in its fullness,

an eternal gospel. The Christian revelation which came to light first

in one Life—its master interpretation and incarnation—has since been

going forward in a continuous and unbroken manifestation of Christ

through many lives and through many groups and through the spiritual

achievements of all those who have lived by him. Christianity is, thus,

the revelation of God through personal life—God humanly revealed. St.

Paul and the writer of the Fourth Gospel were the first to reach this

profound insight into its fuller meaning, though it is plainly suggested

in some of the sayings of Jesus and in the pentecostal experiences of the

first Christians. It is the very heart of the Pauline and the Johannine

Christianity. Important as is the backward look to Jesus in both these

writers, the central emphasis is unmistakably upon the inward experience

of the invisible, spiritual Christ. This is the expectation in the Fourth

Gospel: Greater things than these shall ye do when the Spirit comes upon

you. This is the mystery, the secret of the gospel, St. Paul says, Christ

in you.

If this is the right clew, Christianity is not a new law, nor an

institution, nor a creed, nor a body of doctrine, nor a millennial

hope. It is a type of life, it is a way of living. The most essential

thing about it is the fact of the incursion of God into human life,

the revelation of the eternal in the midst of time, the new discovery

which it brought of God’s nature and character. We nowhere else come so

close to the essential truth of Christianity as we do in the life and

experience of Jesus. The life at every point floods over and transcends

the teaching. He is the most complete and adequate exhibition of what I

have called the incursion of God into human life, but even so he is the

beginning, not the end, of the revelation of God through humanity—the

Christ-revelation of God—and this Christ-revelation of God _is_ God, so

far as he is at all adequately known.

Some persons talk as though God were a kind of composite Being, got by

adding up the God of the natural order, the God of the Old Testament,

and the God as Father about whom Jesus taught. He is, according to this

scheme, in some way a compound aggregate of infinite power, irresistible

justice, and eternal love. Sometimes one “attribute” is predominant,

and sometimes another, while in some mysterious way all the dissonant

attributes get “reconciled.” This is surely boggy ground to build upon.

Christianity is essentially, I should say, a unique revelation of God.

Here for the first time the race discovers that God identifies himself

with humanity, is in the stream of it, is suffering with us, is in

moral conflict with sin and evil, is conquering through the travail

and tragedy of finite persons, and is eternally, in mind and heart and

will, a God of triumphing Love. No texts adequately “prove” this mighty

truth. We cannot tie it down to “sayings,” though there are “sayings”

which declare it. The life of Jesus, the supreme decisions through which

he expresses his purpose, the spirit which dominates him and guides his

decisive actions, make the truth plain that God meant _that_ to him and

that his way of life revealed that kind of God.

Through all the fusions and confusions of history and through all the

vagaries of man’s tortuous course since the Church began to be built,

Christ as eternal Spirit has gone on revealing this truth about God and

demonstrating the victorious power of this way of life. The making of

a kingdom of God in the world, the spread of the brother-spirit, the

expansion of the love-method, the increase of coöperation, sympathy,

and service, the continued incursion of the divine into the life of the

human, these are the things now and always which indicate the vitality

and progress of Christianity, and the uninterrupted revelation of God.

Always, in every period of history, the essential truth of Christianity

must be revealed and expressed in and through a medium not altogether

adapted to it. It is always living and working in a world more or less

alien to it. It has at any stage only partially realized its ideal, and

only achieved in a fragmentary way the goal toward which it is moving.

It means endless conquest and ever fresh winning of unwon victories. It

must be for us all a vision and a venture, it must be a thing of faith

and forecast. At the same time it is, in a very real sense, experience

and achievement. God _has_ entered into humanity. Love has revealed its

redeeming power. Grace is as much a reality as mountains are. The kingdom

of God though not all in sight yet is, I believe, as sure as gravitation.

The invisible, eternal Christ, living in the soul of man, revealing

his will in moral and spiritual victories in personal lives, is, I am

convinced, as genuine a fact as electricity is. But we shall see _all_

that Christianity means only when the living totality of the revelation

of God through humanity is complete.

Spiritual Energies in Daily Life · 第 6 / 10 章