I recently officiated at one o f the saddest funerals of my entire ministry. There were few mourners, but, though dazed, perplexed, and tearful, the few were loyal to the end. Their grief was due in part to the feeling that the death was 'both untimely and unneces sary. There was, in fact, the haunting feeling that death could have been prevented. It is now too later, how ever, and all we can do is to try to leam something that may help others to avoid such a tragic end. I attended the funeral of a church. It was a belated one, for the truth is that death had prevailed long before the final interment. There was always the hope, how ever, that some miracle of resuscitation could be per formed, perhaps a change of pastors, a coat of paint, or financial subsidy. These efforts only postponed the final dissolution. But why did it die? It is not natural for churches to die; they are bom to grow and multiply and reproduce themselves. Did not the Lord of the church declare that the “ very gates of hell should not prevail against it” ? Is not the Spirit of the church the Spirit of life and liberty? This church did not die because it was unorthodox, at least in its stated theology; in fact, it prided itself upon its undeviating loyalty to ■die truth. Furthermore, it did not die because people were not available, for there were thousands of needy souls thronging its very door-
within bred them in abundance. The same wall that kept the world out also kept the world in. They did not know that spiritual health is not preserved by isolation, but by exercising the spiritual muscles in grappling for souls o f men. They did not realize that, in the words o f our Lord, the church is “ in the world,” involved in it, battling with it, triumphing over it. Alas, they cringed before the world, they ran from it, but in the end the world won, and what a victory! The church died because it could not propagate itself. What passed for maturity was in fact senility: there was not enough spiritual vigor and fertility to bring forth babes in Christ. It was not that children were not wanted; it was that they must be the proper kind — respectful of age and experience and especially careful not to disturb the well-placed knickknacks that adorned the sanctuary. Children can be a bit unpredictable. Then too, the con verts must be after their own image, which meant that Christ’s image was incidental. So the few babes entrusted to them were either smoth ered to death or died of neglect. The fathers and mothers in Israel were so concerned that the babes in Christ should not reflect on the church (or was it their own ego they were protecting?) that they drove them into the arms of a waiting world.
A ttended Funeral
by R. J. Michaels, Allentown, Pennsylvania
step. Money was not the real issue, for means could have been found to carry on the work. The few loyal, loving souls who attended the funeral gave evidence that death was not due to lack of solicitude for its welfare. But the church died, anyway; the frantic efforts at resuscitation were too little, and too late. The church died (remember it could be your church) because it violated the first law of the kingdom, a law as inexorable as God Himself: the law that to live we must first die to ourselves; the law that we must not seek to preserve our own life; the law that the church lives by being expendable. The Lord of the church de clared that unless we surrender ourselves for others we “ abide alone,” and what infinite meaning there is in that word “ alone.” This church was preoccupied with its own goodness, its own purity, its own image, its own solvency. It was self-consciously trying to be good and self-conscious goodness is always repulsive and self-de feating. The church died because of fear. It knew that the world was full of sin and worldliness and death, and wanting no part of them, it set out to build an impreg nable wall about itself. Block by block, board by board, rule by rule, regulation by regulation, it built a wall so high and strong that all within felt perfectly secure, Alas, it had been forgotten that there could be disease germs within as well as without, and that the stale air
They did not realize that to Christ people are im portant, more important than ideas, or traditions, or prejudices, and that no church can choose those whom it will help. It is possible for the church to shed copious tears over the plight o f the heathen while it considers itself too good to help the pagans on its doorstep. After all, it is easier to give money than to give oneself. The church died because it was more concerned in preserving a tradition than in proclaiming a redemptive truth. It had an ethic, but no evangel, and a church with out an evangel is only a club. “We always did it this way” becomes an anesthetic to dull the pain o f change. The church claimed to believe in the old-time reli gion, but alas, its religion was more concerned with the acts of the fathers than with the Acts of the Apostles. The nice people within, because they had nothing more exciting to do, began to work on each other, for after all, even good people need some entertainment. In the end they destroyed themselves. I trust no one will think that I am amused at the death of a church. Remember it was not the building that died, or the pews, or the little chairs upon which the children sat; it was a part o f the church “ for whom Christ died.” Shed a few tears with me over the funeral of a church. It could be yoUr church. I wonder if it is? The Wesleyan Methodist
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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