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Pan-Handle Preachers and the Pope: A Cross-Cultural Dialectic and Missionary Identity Formation of the Churches of Christ in Post-War Italy

Missiologist Janine Paden Morgan explores how the ideological environment of post-war Italy—tense church-state tensions, pressures from Communism, and Roman Catholic xenophobia—shaped the theological and ecclesiological emphases of Church of Christ missionaries from the United States. Through her reading of missionary public newsletters and Italian journal articles, Morgan investigates how opposition by the Roman Catholic Church influenced the identity formation among fledgling Churches of Christ to lasting effect. Although there have been a limited number of descriptive accounts of the events of these years, there has been little serious analysis of what those events mean historically and missiologically. For missiologists, historians of missions, and practitioners alike, the important question of how identity is shaped in a climate of strong opposition can have bearing on how missions is understood and carried out globally today.

My brother’s earliest memory is being fiercely shooed away from the window where he was watching a mob forming to burn down the orphanage where he lived with his parents. The mob was led by the village priest; the children’s home a place of refuge for World War II war orphans. The grievous issue was that “heretical” and “foreign” Protestants had not only established an orphanage but had established it in the stronghold of Roman Catholic papal power, not ten miles from the Vatican. My research explores how the ideological environment of post-war Italy—tense church-state tensions, pressures from Communism, and Roman Catholic xenophobia—shaped the theological and ecclesiological emphases of the planting of the Church of Christ in Italy by American missionaries. Through my reading of missionary public newsletters (principally the Frascati Orphan Home Paper) and Italian Church of Christ journal articles (Il Seme del Regno), I investigate how opposition by the Roman Catholic Church influenced the identity formation among fledgling Churches of Christ to lasting effect.

Since the time of Constantine, Rome has stood at the global center of Western Catholicism, its Papal See committed to exercising religious and political authority over the region, such that in the 1940s, when our story opens, close to one hundred percent of Italians were registered as Roman Catholic. Only in the late nineteenth century did Roman Catholic hegemonic power begin to falter during the Italian Risorgimento, a liberalizing movement that sought to separate church and state. At that time, some Protestant churches—Methodists, Anglicans, Baptists, and the Salvation Army—were accorded legal status. This opening, however, proved brief. Benito Mussolini himself, together with emissaries of Pope Pius XI, signed the Lateran Accords reinstating the Roman Catholic church as the official state religion in 1929. While previously recognized Protestant churches were grandfathered in, new groups seeking legal status found it near impossible and faced increasing pressure to disband under the fascist regime.1

After the war and the fall of fascism, the political landscape in Italy was in turmoil. On the heels of the Truman Doctrine, the Cold War, an ideological fight for the minds of its citizens, was also contested in Italy. On the right, the Democrazia Cristiana (DC) emerged as the largest political party. Determined to incorporate the Lateran Accords into the post-war 1948 Constitution, they were committed to keeping the identity of Italy as Roman Catholic; consequently they viewed “foreign” Protestants as a threat to this goal. Roy Palmer Domenico cites one leader’s observation: “Italy was called by God to a glorious Catholic experiment.”2 Although freedom of worship was eventually guaranteed in the new Constitution, the Roman Catholic Church maintained its special privilege, so much so that to cast aspersions on the pope or Roman Catholicism itself constituted a criminal act.

Fiercely anti-clerical, on the far left in the political landscape were the Muscovite Communists, the Partito Comunista Italiana (PCI), who desired the “via italiana al socialismo” (“the Italian road to socialism”), which they termed a progressive form of democracy. In between these two influential parties lay a plethora of other parties seeking to fill the political vacuum, but this description gives a thumbnail sketch of the main stakeholders when a group of largely West Texan preachers arrived in 1949 on the scene.

Nothing could have been more welcome news to a tired and war-weary people than what a group of young Americans were espousing: a radically different form of Christianity than what they had known in the Roman Catholicism of the day. Twelve American Church of Christ missionaries sailed from New York and arrived in Italy in January 1949, joining Gordon and Ruth Linscott already in place. Three of these missionaries, including my father, Harold Paden, had felt the call to return to Italy to help the land that they had fought to liberate during World War II. Their strategy was (1) “Benevolence”: open a children’s home for war orphans and distribute food and clothing to those utterly devastated from the war;3 and (2) “Preach the Word”: teach the Bible, which would liberate people from oppressive Roman Catholicism and “again establish the Church of Christ on Italian soil” as it once had been established in Paul’s time.4 Prepared by their professors at Abilene Christian College and Pepperdine College to expect an arduous process before there were any converts, they were unprepared for what lay ahead. After their second church service, just three weeks after they arrived in Frascati, Cline Paden, the director of the children’s home and Harold’s older brother, reported:

We have evidently caught the Catholics unawares. . . . Many . . . have told us of announcements being made at all the schools and at Catholic services that no one is permitted to come for Bible study. . . . Sunday morning many of [the priests and nuns] ‘happened’ to be along the road leading from Frascati . . . telling people to turn back. We do not know how many turned back, but over 300 of them came! . . .We too have been caught unawares! The overwhelming response to our invitation for Bible study was not expected. Their pleas for Bibles, the eagerness with which they listen to Biblical discussions and the open defiance to the prevailing ecclesiastic authority has taken us all by surprise.5

In April 1949 the Corriere della Sera, a widely-distributed moderate pro-government newspaper, reported vast Protestant activity around Rome. By August, at the six-month mark, the team had distributed over 5000 packages of clothing, 100 packages of food, and 50 packages of medical supplies. According to Harold Paden, “response to this love” brought over 4,000 Italians to Bible classes, and by October 1949, over 130 people had been baptized into Christ.6

Such an overwhelming reaction did not go unnoticed by the Roman Catholic church and the Italian government led by DC politicians. Local priests began to encourage their communities to resist the Protestant incursion. Early converts were ostracized by their families and lost their jobs; several were physically threatened.7 At an open-air meeting at Monte Compatri, a mob led by the Azione Cattolica processed the Madonna through the streets and began throwing rocks through the windows where a house church met. On that occasion, a young boy had his hand blown off when he accidentally set off a landmine intended for the missionaries’ jeep. Cline Paden reported, “Riots and near riots have greeted the initial efforts in many of these communities where work is now beginning.”8 In November, a hostile throng assailed two jeep-loads of missionaries with clubs and rocks, spitting on them, rocking their jeeps with chants of “We want the Protestants’ bones.”9 A witness to that event, Rodolfo Berdini, later attested how he was “full of anger at this inhuman act” and complained to the Roman Catholic clergy at Castel Gondolfo. The priest answered that these actions were necessary so that the “protestants might be driven out of Italy” which led Berdini to a questioning of his own Roman Catholic faith. Berdini then describes how he went “to meet with the American missionaries who had been stoned before our eyes, and for the first time in my life, I took into my hands a complete Bible! For approximately three months, every day . . . we studied the Bible. . . . They have given us a gift greater, rarer, and more invaluable, than man has ever known—Jesus Christ and His gospel of love.”10

The harassment began to generate national and international media attention. The Settimana del Clero, a newspaper for Roman Catholic clergy, covered debates the missionaries held with Cappuccini monks, which inadvertently resulted in more Bible studies being requested by priests.11 Former priests began to be baptized; seven would eventually become theological leaders in the Churches of Christ.12 Rumors abounded on the one hand that the Protestant missionaries were Communist agents due to many communist-sympathizing converts. The Communist Party (PCI), after an initial look, in their paper, Il Paese, began denouncing the missionaries at best as American imperialists and at worst as agents of the CIA. Time Magazine13 and Life Magazine14 reported on the “beachhead” of Protestantism in Italy.

While the harassment of the missionaries and their converts was mostly confined at the local level, Mario Scelba, the interior minister of the government’s DC party, began to wage a war on Protestant missionaries at the macro level in order to keep Italy firmly Roman Catholic, considering it the glue to Italian core identity.15 Under Scelba’s recommendation, in December of 1949 the Italian government closed the orphanage and sent the boys away; the missionaries were denied visa extensions and threatened with expulsion from Italy. At first reluctant to jeopardize Italo-American relations, the US government finally began cautious involvement largely due to pressure from the Paden brothers’ fellow Texans: Congressmen Tom Connally (chair of the Senate foreign affairs committee), Sam Rayburn (speaker of the House of Representatives), Lyndon Johnson, Omar Burleson, and others.16 The editor of the Frascati Orphan Home Paper, Jimmy Wood, in a special issue dedicated to the closure of the children’s home, included a wire written to President Truman denouncing the action of the Italian government.17 Perhaps the largest concerted letter-writing campaign to Congress by the Churches of Christ occurred in early 1950, protesting the closure. By February 1950, three hundred congressmen were each allegedly receiving a thousand letters a week on the matter. A delegation of Church of Christ ministers and elders traveled to Washington to meet with their congressmen. Jimmy Wood, editor of the FOHP, left the meeting with the assurance that the congressmen stood “solidly behind us in our work.” Wood went on to write: “[I] want to assure each of you that your letters have done good.”18 The Americans were given a one-year extension and the children’s home reopened.

During the 1950s the legal battle for freedom of religion in Italy continued and was reported in dozens of newspaper articles. While Scelba backed down briefly regarding the American missionaries, he was vigilantly opposed to Italian evangelists. Services were banned. Churches of Christ in Rome, Veletri, Livorno, Florence, and Alessandria were raided by police and closed. Italian and American evangelists were arrested and given sentences for preaching. When Scelba succeeded as Prime Minister in 1954, his government expelled those “obstinate violators of Italian law,” with his sights firmly set on the gadfly, Cline Paden, the most outspoken and combative of the American missionaries.19 But the battle against the Protestants was not won. Although deported, Paden had found allies in Italy’s judiciary and initiated counter legal defense proceedings for other evangelists as well. The new Constitutional Court inaugurated in 1956 ruled that “government sanction was unnecessary for the establishment of churches in Italy.”20 While there was still action against Italian evangelists throughout the late 1950s and early 1960s, courts continually acquitted the Protestants.

As to the ministry of the Churches of Christ in Italy in the 1950s, the Brownwood Church of Christ eldership closed down the Frascati Orphan Home in 1957, deeming it unsustainable due to decline of American financial support and the Italian government’s continued legal obstructions. The rationale was framed as a “redirection of efforts in Italy,” not as a withdrawal from the work there,21 though this move essentially extinguished the “benevolence” prong of the American missionary strategy. However, such “redirection” bore fruit for the second prong, “preach the word.” By the end of the 1950s, twenty-three Italian evangelists, along with a dozen American missionaries, established forty Churches of Christ communities in the principal cities of Italy. A publishing house widely distributed Bible correspondence courses, a monthly journal titled Il Seme del Regno, along with numerous doctrinal pamphlets all in Italian. A Bible school in Milan was begun, its director a former Catholic seminary theologian, Fausto Salvoni. While it was a decade of great oppression, it was also a decade of great activity that is the focus of this study. This history provides context for my research.

Research and Findings

Based on the historical context and ideological environment of post-war Italy, I postulate that if identity is forged in such a hostile environment, the tendency is to define oneself in relation to the “enemy” and not in relation to the central themes of the gospel. In his study of Latin American Protestantism in the early twentieth century, Mexican scholar Carlos Mondragón notes that consistent interaction with majoritarian (and often hostile) Roman Catholic ecclesial and cultural apparati resulted in Protestant identities characterized by reaction to that antagonism.22 This seems to bear truth also to the mid-twentieth-century Italian context as well. In this paper I explore how early Italian converts of the Churches of Christ conceived of their religious identity vis-à-vis the dominant Roman Catholic Church in order to understand its imprint on the Churches of Christ in Italy today. To do so, I have examined missionary public newsletters and Italian journal articles during a ten-year period in order to ascertain what foundational messages the Italian converts received from the American missionaries and what they in turn promulgated.23

Research Question #1: What foundational messages did Italian Church of Christ converts and leaders receive from the American missionaries and then themselves promulgate?

The data in Figure 1 reveals that the primary focus of articles in this ten-year period was what it means to be the New Testament Church (NTC) in relation to Roman Catholicism (RC) and to other Christian denominations (Den).

Figure 1: Topics of Seme del Regno Articles (1954–1963)

Over half of the articles in this time period, fifty-six percent to be exact, were devoted to polemical arguments related to what was considered the New Testament Church versus the Roman Catholic Church. Fifteen percent focused on Christian living, while only seven percent of the articles focused on the person of Jesus.

According to the SdR articles, biblical authority was the only basis on which one can study and know the difference between divine will and human invention. In addition to the New Testament Church (NTC) category, another sixteen percent of the articles focused on exegesis of various biblical texts, showing the primacy of the Bible in its arguments. Any given article I tallied in its first four months gave, on average, twelve biblical references. Such a high view of the Bible and high view of human ability to study it and know “the truth” is a hallmark of Churches of Christ. This proved consistent not only with what the earlier cited Berdini reflected but also with an interview I had with Marisa Sala in 2016. When I asked her about what attracted her to the Churches of Christ in the 1950s, Marisa recounted that for the first time in her life she held a Bible in her hands when a young preacher came to her family’s home. That in itself was astounding for that time. But what really moved her was when, upon reading a Bible passage together, that young preacher, Joe Gibbs, asked her what she understood by it. Sixty years later, Marisa was so moved remembering that moment, she was speechless.24 That she, a young girl, could have something of value to contribute was simply unheard of. Such a freedom for individuals to search for truth, free from human traditions to seek anew, caused the contemporary historian Nathan Hatch to say about the early Restorationists: “Protestants had always argued for sola Scriptura, but this kind of radical individualism set the Bible against the entire history of biblical interpretation.”25 Hughes and Hatch suggest that in so demanding a theology of the people and by the people, they contributed to a democratization of Christianity that had been mired in the professional hierarchies of national churches for centuries.

In the opening editorial for SdR, Corrazza announced that the purpose of the journal is “not to engage in polemics nor to combat any religious community,” but rather begins with “a sincere conviction that Christ is the only source of Christianity, who brings light where there is darkness, love where hate dominates, . . . faith in Christ where there was once idolatry and superstition.”26 In a later article that same year entitled “Return to Jerusalem,” referencing Luke 2:44–45, he used the metaphor of a “little caravan of Christianity that had lost its way from Jerusalem for 2000 years” that had gotten fat, loud, and misdirected. “We have looked inside each cart, but we haven’t found Jesus, the Master.”27 However, we see from the data in Figure 1 that the emphasis was not so much on Jesus, the Master, but what it means to be a New Testament church. And that brings its own polemics.

Research Question #2: How were the claims made to engage the Italian reader vis-à-vis the Roman Catholic Church?

The following figure shows the points of discussion, breaking down the data from the Figure 1 focus labeled “NTC/RC/Den.”

Figure 2: Topical Arguments

The data suggests that the dominating topics were the authority of the Roman Catholic Church (pope and church councils), with New Testament salvation (nineteen out of the forty-three articles were on New Testament baptism) and New Testament church given almost equal treatment, and biblical authority. A letter was written complaining that there was too much argumentation and polemics in the journal, creating “an obstacle to the calm meditation [of Scripture].”28 Corazza agreed wholeheartedly with the writer, stating that he wished to banish every polemic and drink from “the pure fountain of Christian teaching!” However, he goes on to say, “But unfortunately it is necessary to speak out and not remain silent because doing so would be an obstacle . . . to truth.” He assures the readership that “our battle . . . is not toward persons, but toward ideologies” and promises to be more positive in the future.29 Data in Figure 3, detailing the actual trajectory of topics over the course of ten years, allows us to verify whether Corrazza’s hope was realized.

Figure 3: Relative Focus on Topics by Year (1954–1963)

Research Question #3: Do the articles change focus over a period of time?

While there are small variations from year to year and a change in editors in 1959 (year 6), the focus of the journal remains on biblical patternism regarding the New Testament church in contrast to primarily Roman Catholic doctrine and practice. In 1962–1963, numerous articles in the SdR reported on Pope John XXIII’s convocation of the Vatican II Council (1962–1965), the reform movement that updated Roman Catholicism. While more examination is required over the reception of Vatican II, overall there was great delight that it confirmed much of what the Church of Christ emphasized, a need to return to the origins of the gospel. Pope John XXIII recommended that a Bible be found in every home, la Bibbia in ogni casa, which the Churches of Christ subsequently used as its slogan for the Bible correspondence course and for distribution of the first modern-day translation of the New Testament in Italian, translated from the Greek by the former priests Fausto Salvoni and Italo Minestrone.

Research Question #4: What effect did New Testament patternism have on the identity of the Churches of Christ in subsequent years?

One of the great positive legacies of the American missionaries, in addition to the high view of the Bible, was the development of local leadership. In the 1960s, the Churches of Christ continued to grow with new missionaries and Italian workers. A second Bible school was established in Florence (Gianfranco Sciotti, a child from the Frascati Orphan Home, was a teacher/director from 1970 to 1982). Fifty years after its inception, church communities existed in sixty Italian cities with approximately 1,500 members, and there had been over forty Italian evangelists throughout its history.30 But it never fulfilled its early promise due to what I believe are three factors.

First, Vatican II’s call for ecumenicity effected a sea change in attitudes among Italians. In addition to other things, it called for respectful cooperation with Protestants as “separated brothers” who are saved and bring others to salvation.31 The “enemy” had shifted positions and therefore was never as easy to combat, yet evidence in Church of Christ literature points to a continued waging of battle. Second, neo-humanism was sweeping Europe, and religion was increasingly marginalized. According to Gerald Paden, yet a third Paden brother, “Italy was entering the age of materialism . . . manifested by increased indifference . . . and almost total apathy . . . toward biblical issues.”32 Third, by the 1970s, the Church of Christ mission fell victim to sectarian divisions within its own denomination. The emphasis on having the correct New Testament pattern for its ecclesial structure, together with the notion of silence in the Bible as being prohibitive rather than giving freedom for practice, had the unintended consequence of a legalistic approach to the Bible, a problem with which its American counterparts suffered as well. One church would “disfellowship” another church; issues became divisive.

If the focus of the initial beachhead and following years had been on the central themes of the gospel, rather than a continual responding to the perceived threat vis-à-vis Roman Catholicism, an alternative story might have been written. To be sure, such hindsight is much easier from a distance than in the midst of such complex times. Be that as it may, there is a very real possibility that inchoate contextualization of the gospel was happening by certain Italian churches in healthy ways, but unfortunately critique from the American missionaries and the loss of financial support from American churches made these moves untenable.33 Many left the Churches of Christ at this time. If only Corrazza’s words in that first editorial had remained the touchstone of the Restoration Movement’s work in Italy, “not to engage in polemics nor to combat any religious community . . . but simply spread the word of love preached by Christ.”34 Yet, the historic tensions with the Roman Catholicism of the time dictated a different path.

My research journey began in 2001, with a conversation I had with a matriarch of the Milano Church of Christ, Enrica Salvoni. She expressed her concern that the Churches of Christ had lost their distinctiveness. At its inception, the Churches of Christ in Italy were defined as the ones who studied the Bible, taught the love of God, had fellowship (agape) meals together, shared communion around the table. “But now,” she lamented, “even the Catholics do that! So, who are we now?”35 This question still echoes in my mind as I consider this formative period of the Italian Churches of Christ.

Janine Paden Morgan, PhD, is a missiologist and instructor at Abilene Christian University’s College of Biblical Studies. A third culture kid, she has a lifelong interest in how cultures and Christianity interact, and she teaches courses that reflect that interest. She has been active in cross-cultural ministry throughout her life (Italy, Scotland, and Brazil) and most recently for nine years in international study abroad education (England, Germany). Her academic research focuses on the role of ritual in spiritually forming communities, contemporary ecclesiology and mission, and the World Christian Movement. Janine and her historian husband Ron enjoy traveling the world with curious and like-minded students on mission with God.

Adapted from a presentation at the Thomas H. Olbricht Christian Scholars’ Conference, Lipscomb University, Nashville, TN, June 7–9, 2017.

1 Roy Palmer Domenico, “ ‘For the Cause of Christ Here in Italy’: America’s Protestant Challenge in Italy and the Cultural Ambiguity of the Cold War.” Diplomatic History 29, no. 4 (2005): 632.

2 Ibid.

3 Joe Chisholm, “A General Report on the Italian Work,” in The Italian Lectures, ed. Jimmy Woods (Lubbock, TX: Dennis Brothers, 1950), 70.

4 Jack McPherson, “Workers Together with God,” in The Italian Lectures, ed. Jimmy Woods (Lubbock, TX: Dennis Brothers, 1950), 89.

5 Cline Paden, “313 Present for Second Service in Italy,” in The Italian Lectures, ed. Jimmy Woods (Lubbock, TX: Dennis Brothers, 1950), 96.

6 Harold Paden, “Eighteen Baptisms in July; 4000 Attend Classes,” in Frascati Orphan Home Paper 1, no. 8 (1949): 1.

7 Cline R. Paden, “Work Grows in Italy Despite Catholic Opposition,” in Frascati Orphan Home Paper 1, no. 12 (1949): 1.

8 Ibid.

9 Domenico, 637.

10 Rodolfo Berdini, “From Persecutor to Persecuted,” in Frascati Orphan Home Paper 2, no. 8 (1950): 2.

11 Cline Paden, “An Arch Priest Is Baptized in Italy,” in Frascati Orphan Home Paper 2, no. 1 (1950): 7.

12 Carl Mitchell, “Italy: Fifty Years of Progress (1949–1999)” (unpublished paper, copy in private Bobbie Paden collection 1999).

13 “Beachhead,” Time, January 23, 1950, 55.

14 “Italians Harass U.S. Evangelists,” Life Magazine, February 20, 1950, 95–99.

15 Domenico, 635.

16 Ibid., 642.

17 Jimmy Wood, “Italian Government Orders Orphanage Closed,” Frascati Orphan Home Paper 1, special issue (1949): 2.

18 Jimmy Wood, “Our Trip to Washington,” Frascati Orphan Home Paper 2, no. 2 (1950): 5.

19 Domenico, 651.

20 Ibid., 651.

21 Jimmy Wood, “Closure of Frascati Orphan Home” in Frascati Orphan Home Paper 9, no. 11 (1956): 1.

22 Carlos Mondragón, Like Leaven in the Dough: Protestant Social Thought in Latin America, 1920–1950, trans. Daniel Miller and Ben Post (Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2011), 19–22.

23 My colleague Cindy Roper and I went to the Scuola Biblica di Firenze archives in Florence, Italy. Employing qualitative content analysis, we examined and coded the rhetoric used in journal articles in Il Seme del Regno (SdR, the seed of the kingdom), a monthly journal for Italian Churches of Christ, from its inception in 1954 through a ten-year period.

24 Marisa Sala, interview by Janine P. Morgan, May 9, 2016.

25 Nathan Hatch, “The Christian Movement,” in American Origins of Churches of Christ: Three Essays on Restoration History, by Richard Hughes, Nathan Hatch, and David Edwin Harrell Jr. (Abilene: ACU Press, 2000): 32.

26 Sandro Corrazza, “Editorial,” in Il Seme del Regno 1, no. 1 (1954): 1; translation mine.

27 Sandro Corrazza, “Editorial,” in Il Seme del Regno 1, no. 4 (1954): 2; translation mine.

28 “Letter to the Editor,” in Il Seme del Regno 2, no. 12 (1955): 2; translation mine.

29 Sandro Corrazza, “Editorial,” in Il Seme del Regno 2, no. 12 (1955): 2; translation mine.

30 Mitchell.

31 “Catholic Principles on Ecumenism,” in The Documents of Vatican II: All Sixteen Official Texts Promulgated by the Ecumenical Council, 1963–1965, ed. Walter M. Abbott (New York: The America Press, 1966), section 3.

32 Domenico, 653.

33 I would like to continue further research on this question in the future.

34 Corrazza, “Editorial,” Il Seme del Regno 2, no. 12 (1955): 2; translation mine.

35 Enrica Salvoni, interview by Janine P. Morgan, July 8, 2001.

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Mission Journal: Reshaping the Church’s Mission in a Changing World

Mission was a progressive journal that began in 1967 with a threefold purpose: “(1) to explore thoroughly the Scriptures and their meaning; (2) to understand as fully as possible the world in which the church lives and has her mission; and (3) to provide a vehicle for communicating the meaning of God’s Word to our contemporary world.” The social upheavals of the 1960s raised serious concerns that Churches of Christ were not able to address theologically with their well established hermeneutic at that time. This paper argues that Mission attempted to offer a new hermeneutic that might reshape the identity and mission of Churches of Christ in order to address contemporary social issues.

Mission, a progressive journal that began in 1967, sought to address two separate but related crises within Churches of Christ and society. First, there were serious questions and concerns as to the validity of the hermeneutic that had been well established within Churches of Christ up through the first half of the twentieth century. Founded upon Lockean rationalism and Baconian empiricism,1 the hermeneutic focused on doctrinal details and ecclesial patterns to the neglect of the central, overarching message of Scripture. This hermeneutic forced Churches of Christ to adopt hostile postures as it increasingly became more sectarian and less engaged with the secular and religious world around them. Second, the social upheavals of the 1960s raised serious concerns that Churches of Christ were not able to address because they lacked the theological resources. The sectarian hermeneutic and its ineptitude to provide theological resources to address social issues threatened the church’s relevance to contemporary society.

Churches of Christ and the Stone-Campbell tradition thrived in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries because their purpose and mission addressed the social and cultural context of that time.2 By the second half of the twentieth century, a rapidly changing world combined with a reading of Scripture that could not address those changes left Churches of Christ in an identity crisis because it generally failed to respond to the social issues within the church’s broader cultural context. Therefore, Mission journal sought to provide a new hermeneutic that might reshape the identity and mission of Churches of Christ in order to address contemporary social issues.

The Need for a New Hermeneutic: Changing Context, Limited Resources

The first issue of Mission was published in July 1967. In the opening pages, the editors make clear their intent for the journal. “This journal shall have three purposes: (1) to explore thoroughly the Scriptures and their meaning; (2) to understand as fully as possible the world in which the church lives and has her mission; and (3) to provide a vehicle for communicating the meaning of God’s Word to our contemporary world.”3 The threefold purpose of the journal reveals the editors’ concerns that led to its publication and its attempt to provide a new hermeneutic that might reshape the mission of Churches of Christ in order to address contemporary social issues.

Mission’s first concern remains true to the back-to-the-Bible tradition of the Reformation and the Stone-Campbell Movement. Their concern is not as much about the authority of Scripture as it is about its meaning. Hermeneutics was a primary concern for the journal because Churches of Christ had built their identity around Scripture. Specifically, their identity was shaped around a particular way of reading the New Testament that was formed by a Puritan religious heritage and Enlightenment philosophy. Combining the Puritan principle of “positive law” that focused on proper ceremonial acts with a theory of knowledge based on essentials found in explicit commands and on the Enlightenment’s inductive method of gathering all the facts to obtain certain knowledge led to the development of the threefold hermeneutic of command, example, and necessary inference.

Mission’s second concern focused on a deeper understanding of the contemporary world in which the church exists and carries out its mission. This purpose was a recognition that major changes were occurring in society that the church could no longer ignore. By the 1960s, the epistemological shifts of postmodernism that had begun in the late 1800s were manifesting in fundamental changes in the social structures of society.4 These shifts occurred in multiple arenas of social life.

First, the civil rights movement exploded onto the scene in the 1960s, and Churches of Christ were generally resistant to the changing racial attitudes that accompanied the civil rights movement.5 The civil rights movement also raised awareness over economic disparities in the United States. These disparities were not only connected to racial tensions because of the economic gap between African Americans and Caucasians but related to the general recognition that the “American Dream” had failed a large and growing portion of society, especially in urban areas.

Second, gender equality and the expanding role of women in society were also issues gaining much attention in the 1960s. Because of the significant public role women played during World War II, women began to see themselves as capable of taking on public roles and responsibilities traditionally assigned to men. While women in Churches of Christ began playing a more significant role in society, they were limited and placed in subordinate roles within their local congregation.

Finally, the Vietnam War dominated the public media more than any other concern during the late sixties and early seventies. The American population had become disillusioned with the growing body count and questioned the legitimacy of the war itself. Churches of Christ, by and large, had either taken a nationalistic approach to their relationship with US military action or were altogether indifferent to the issues.6

The third purpose of the journal was to communicate God’s word to the contemporary world in new and relevant ways that would address the significant issues society was facing. This purpose suggested that the church lacked the hermeneutical and, thus, the theological resources to address such issues. The Churches of Christ obsession with restoring the New Testament church primarily in name, admission, and organization, and the anthropocentric view of salvation, provided the church with a limited understanding of the church’s mission and social engagement.7 From this limited perspective, the “social gospel,” as it was called, threatened to pull the church’s focus away from the true gospel that centered on the correct doctrine of the church and the saving of souls.8 In order to address the social issues of the day, Churches of Christ needed a new hermeneutic, which Mission attempted to provide.

New Hermeneutical Lenses for a New Identity and Mission

At least four hermeneutical lenses emerge from Mission as the journal set out to explore the Scriptures, understand the world in which the church lives and has her mission, and provide a vehicle for communicating God’s word in the contemporary world. These hermeneutical lenses were an attempt to help the Churches of Christ identity and mission conform with a different understanding of Scripture that would address the cultural and social issues of the day.

1. The Lens of the Cross

While the traditional hermeneutic of Churches of Christ had focused on the actions of the church, Mission focused its hermeneutical lens on the acts of God. At the very center was a hermeneutic of the cross.9 The acts of God were not defined by power as the world conceived of power but were summarized in Christ’s crucifixion. Taking the cross of Christ as a hermeneutical lens was an attempt to reshape the church’s identity and mission toward solidarity with those marginalized by racial discrimination, economic scarcity, and gender inequality. It also meant that in the face of violence, suffering love was God’s way of redemption in the world. In other words, the hermeneutical lens of the cross did not require a mastery of church doctrine and practice but a particular way of life centered on the cross of Jesus.10

2. The Lens of Discipleship

Since Mission recognized that the core message of Scripture was the acts of God culminating in Christ, the call to discipleship became a key hermeneutical lens. A disciple of Jesus is one who gives her whole life to the radical demands of Christ.11 According to Ray Chester, “The cross is a deliberate choice, our voluntary self-denial for Christ’s sake.”12 Discipleship is choosing to bear one’s cross as Christ did in radical obedience to the Father and for the sake of the world.13

Reading Scripture through the lens of discipleship had implication for the church’s identity and mission in the world, according to Mission. For the disciple, Christ’s authority comes from his love. Disciples are therefore concerned with God’s love, which is defined by justice, mercy, humility, kindness, and faith. Identifying with the crucified Christ meant that disciples have to identify with the poor and marginalized in society, those who have the most need.14 Identifying with Christ by identifying with those at the margins of society is a mark of a disciple.

3. The Lens of Experience

The traditional hermeneutic of the Churches of Christ assumed that one should read Scripture from the neutral, unbiased viewpoint of human reason. Mission recognized that human experience shapes all readings of Scripture and accepted it as a necessary hermeneutical lens. The role of the Holy Spirit as an active agent in the world and in the lives of believers was justification for giving attention to experience. Christians were called to look into their own lives and the lives of others in order to see the reality of both the brokenness of the world and God’s presence in it.15 In order to address the brokenness of the world, the journal called for the church to listen to the experiences of the poor, women, and African Americans in order to address issues of justice, equality, and reconciliation.16 Recognizing the work of the Holy Spirit in a variety of people and their experience meant that a plurality of voices was necessary to interpret the work of God in the world.

4. The Lens of a Diversity of Voices

While the traditional hermeneutic of Churches of Christ was committed to a homogenized view of truth, Mission valued a diversity of voices as a hermeneutical lens for discerning truth. Mission’s hermeneutic was dedicated to welcoming differing conclusions in an open discussion in order to separate truth from tradition. The journal sought to explore the restoration ideal as a commitment to truth and unity through diversity of interpretations.17 Freedom of expression was thought to be essential for spiritual vitality and growth in churches, and truth was to be found in dialogue with a diversity of voices in the church.18

Dialogue between a diversity of voices was not limited to the church. Victor Hunter proposes that the dialectic between the church and the world is the task of theology.19 The task of theology is to understand both the church’s response to Jesus Christ and the present situation in society. Mission looked at a variety of social issues in the world around them and attempted to bring them into dialogue with Scripture in order to communicate “the meaning of God’s Word to our contemporary world.”

Conclusion

Churches of Christ, from the 1960s up to the present, have slowly begun to change their understanding and practice of the church’s mission as it relates to social issues. Although it is difficult to determine the influence Mission has had on these changing attitudes within Churches of Christ, the journal had enough support and interest to publish its ideas from 1967 to 1987. Its twenty-year run inspired the journal Leaven, first published in 1990, which carried on many of the conversations that Mission began.20 Victor Hunter provides a broad summary of the hermeneutical and missional task that Mission envisioned for the church: “Since the mission of the church is always toward the future, it is not one of restoration (of a golden past) . . . but of liberation, transformation and inauguration—making all things new.”21 Through a strong commitment to the word of God, Mission attempted to provide a hermeneutic of Scripture that would reshape the identity and mission of Churches of Christ in order to understand and address contemporary social issues.

Ben Langford is the Director of the Center for Global Missions at Oklahoma Christian University. Ben and his family served as missionaries for 6 years in Uganda, East Africa.

Adapted from a presentation at the Thomas H. Olbricht Christian Scholars’ Conference, Lipscomb University, Nashville, TN, June 8–10, 2016.

1 See Leroy Garrett, The Stone-Campbell Movement: The Story of the American Restoration Movement (Joplin, MO: College Press, 1994), 29; Leonard Allen, The Cruciform Church: Becoming a Cross-Shaped People in a Secular World (Abilene, TX: ACU Press, 2006), 42–45.

2 For example, in the late nineteenth century, the Stone-Campbell movement addressed the social issues of religious sectarianism through a “back to the Bible” movement.

3 Walter E. Burch, Ray F. Chester, Hubert G. Locke, Thomas H. Olbricht, Frank Pack, J. W. Roberts, and Roy Bowen Ward, “The Task of Mission,” Mission 1, no. 1 (July 1967): 3.

4 Craig Van Gelder, “Mission in the Emerging Postmodern Condition,” in Church between Gospel and Culture, ed. George R. Hunsberger and Craig Van Gelder (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 123.

5 Mission devotes many articles to the issue of race relations in the church and society. See Vernon Boyd, “Race Relations,” Mission 2, no. 1 (July 1968): 7–11; Carroll Pitts Jr., “Politics and the Negro Revolution,” Mission 1, no. 12 (June 1968): 7–12; Victor L. Hunter, “Desegregation, Education and the Churches: The Memphis Story,” Mission 8, no. 2 (August 1974): 4–9.

6 See Michael W. Casey, “Pacifism,” in The Encyclopedia of the Stone-Campbell Movement, ed. Douglas A. Foster, et al. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 587; and Larry James, “The Church of Christ and Public Issues in the 1980s,” Mission 17, no. 11 (May 1984): 7–8.

7 The combination of the threefold hermeneutic and the Puritan concern for ceremonial form created a theological tradition, known as the “Texas tradition,” that came to dominate Churches of Christ. The Texas tradition gave Churches of Christ a distinctive theological identity that was largely unquestioned from 1945 until the 1960s. Based on the hermeneutic of command, example, and necessary inference, the tradition “focused on the marks of the true church found in Acts and the Epistles, such as its name, terms of admission, and organization.” The Texas tradition also viewed humans, not God, as the primary agent of salvation, with human obedience through baptism as necessary to obtain salvation. See D. Newell Williams, Douglas A. Foster, and Paul M. Blowers, The Stone-Campbell Movement: A Global History (St. Louis: Chalice, 2013), ch. 8.

8 This sentiment within Churches of Christ dates back to the beginning of the twentieth century. See Austin McGary, “What Would Christ Not Do?” Firm Foundation 16 (May 15, 1900): 312–13; and Austin McGary, “What Would Christ Not Do?” Firm Foundation 16 (June 19, 1900): 392. See the development of this thought within Churches of Christ from 1900 through the 1960s in Richard T. Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith: The Story of Churches of Christ in America (Abilene, TX: ACU Press, 1996), 278–80.

9 Thomas Olbricht, “Biblical Theology and the Restoration Movement,” Mission 13, no. 10 (April 1980): 9.

10 Don Haymes, “Good News? What’s Good about It?” Mission 7, no. 6 (December 1973): 9–11.

11 Everett Ferguson, “The Discipline of Discipleship,” Mission 1, no. 2 (August 1967): 7–10.

12 Ray F. Chester, “The Cross of Discipleship,” Mission 1, no. 2 (August 1967): 4.

13 J. Harold Thomas, “The Power for Discipleship,” Mission 1, no. 2 (August 1967): 9–10; Craig M. Watts, “Christian Commitment and Middle Class Mediocrity,” Mission 7, no. 12 (June 1974): 16–17; Dan Anders, “Risk Your Life for Jesus,” Mission 2, no. 1 (July 1968): 13–15. Arlie J. Hoover, “The Gospel and Nationalism,” Mission 1, no. 12 (June 1968): 13–16.

14 Daniel Keeran argues that the kingdom is for the poor and the rich are to enter the kingdom by divesting themselves of their wealth for the sake of the poor. See Daniel M. Keeran, “Social Realities in the Kingdom of God,” Mission 8, no. 11 (May 1975): 3–6, 17; Daniel M. Keeran, “Decisions for the Poor,” Mission 17, no. 9 (March 1984): 12, 14–16.

15 Steven Spidell, “Seeing a Separate Reality,” Mission 8, no. 12 (June 1975): 10–11.

16 See Phillip Roseberry, “A Skinny White Christian Moves to the Ghetto,” Mission 8, no. 12 (June 1975): 3–9; Alice V. Morrill, “The Work of Our Women,” Mission 13, no. 1 (July 1979): 9–11; Marquita Moss, “Women in Christ Today – A Seminar,” Mission 8, no. 9 (March 1975): 5–7; Paul Young Jr., “The Restoration Movement amongst Blacks Then and Now,” Mission 8, no. 2 (August 1974): 13.

17 Warren Lewis contends that the diversity of voices in the text offers a model for a healthy diversity of voices within the church. Warren Lewis, “Let’s Look at the Text – Again!” Mission 8, no. 3 (September 1974): 21–24.

18 Perry C. Cotham, “Freedom of Expression,” Mission 4, no. 10 (April 1971): 12–18.

19 Victor L. Hunter, “Some Thoughts on Theology and Mission,” Mission 5, no. 9 (March 1972), 6.

20 Markus H. McDowell, “Leaven, a Journal of Ministry,” in The Encyclopedia of the Stone-Campbell Movement, ed. Douglas A. Foster, et al. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 468.

21 Hunter, “Some Thoughts,” 7.

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Biblical Worship and Mission in Context: Mission and Churches of Christ in Crisis, 1967–1988

Mission aimed at invigorating Churches of Christ theology and ministries during the cultural changes of 1967–1988. Mission’s open editorial policy made it a unique witness to this period. This article reviews Mission’s content and circulation, as well as interviews with staff and board members. Mission’s challenges to traditional gender roles in congregational worship practice and polity illuminate both the critical connection between corporate worship and effective mission in a changing context and the significance of this issue to Mission’s history and legacy.

Historian Samuel Hill’s 1966 Southern Churches in Crisis described the impact of cultural and social upheaval during the 1950s and 1960s on southern American Evangelicals.1 He was especially concerned over the response of southern white churches to the social effects of the Civil Rights Movement.2 In navigating a sustainable future for conservative Christians in this context, Hill suggested five “ways out” of crisis for southern churches. These would be means of distinguishing the core of the Christian faith from cultural commitments. To summarize, Hill proposed:

  1. developing a sense of history, allowing the church to see itself as a finite movement with limited ability to restore Christianity;
  2. theological objectification, accepting the church’s theological fallibility (perhaps most significantly a fallible hermeneutic);
  3. liturgical objectification, dislodging worship practices from theological and hermeneutical infallibility; and
  4. increased ecumenical involvement.3

Mission was a magazine set on renewing and energizing Churches of Christ, whose membership centered in the American south. Mission’s first issue arrived within a year of Hill’s prescription for southern conservative evangelicals. Hill’s proposal dovetailed neatly with Mission’s editorial policy, described in its inaugural issue and reprinted on each issue’s inside cover: “to explore thoroughly the Scriptures and their meaning; . . . to understand as fully as possible the world in which the church lives and has her mission; . . . to provide a vehicle for communicating the meaning of God’s Word to our contemporary world.”4

Mission’s final issue arrived the same year as Robert Wuthnow’s diagnosis of the new social reality of American Christianity, The Restructuring of American Religion.5 Wuthnow described American denominationalism from World War II through the 1980s, noting the impact of changes such as increased education levels, expanded ecumenical intermarriage, formalized state-supported social services, social and political divisions set by social unrest in the 1960s (e.g., Hill’s crises), and proliferation of parachurch religious organizations. Wuthnow concluded that parachurch and special interest groups became means of social and political activism for politically conservative and liberal Christians, while most denominations remained diverse in terms of congregations’ and congregants’ political alignment. Interdenominational groups such as relief organizations, lobbyists, or evangelistic campaigns created new post-denominational social patterns among American Christians. These organizations were clearly marked along partisan lines, and Christians increasingly identified with Democratic or Republican political platforms. Wuthnow’s social history tracked the formation of the religious right, and the growing alignment of American evangelicalism and conservative politics.

In 1999, Hill reassessed the state of southern churches in comparison to his 1966 proposal. While the crises of the 1960s were forced on churches by cultural changes beyond their control, Hill described southern churches at the turn of the century as the source of the current crisis:

The recent religious upheaval is just that, a religious one—initiated by the churches and having to do with parochial matters, quite pointedly their doctrinal orthodoxy. A large and growing number of leaders throughout the churches, especially in the Baptist and Presbyterian bodies, asserted that theological teachings and ethical values had drifted off course into heresy, relativism, and liberalism (functionally synonymous terms), all spelling faithlessness. A crisis of promulgation was occurring. This situation necessitated a forceful strategy for turning from erroneous ways to paths of truth.6

Southern Christianity and American evangelicalism shifted from defensive positions to aggressors in the culture wars, with clear ties to conservative politics. These decades solidified a cultural vision of the church’s mission and the nature of the gospel that echo in the cultural and political tensions forty years later.

Mission’s editorial vision and years of operation make it a unique resource for viewing how Churches of Christ responded to the social crises of the late 1960s, and the emergence of politically conservative evangelicalism in the following decades. Mission’s leadership reflected the shifts in American Christianity noted by Wuthnow, and Mission’s content paralleled Hill’s “ways out:” Mission regularly critiqued Churches of Christ for a primitivist a-historicity (lack of a sense of history), denying its own institutional identity. Mission challenged Churches of Christ biblicism, hermeneutical limitations, and theological emphases (theological objectification), including the tripartite hermeneutic of command, example, and necessary inference that grounded worship practices and congregational leadership models and emphasized New Testament liturgical patterns to the neglect of public prophetic witness (liturgical objectification). Furthermore, Mission brought readers into dialogue with texts, ministers, theologians, and Christian leaders beyond Churches of Christ, through influences named, books and media reviewed, and interviews published (ecumenism). Mission’s open editorial policy makes the journal a unique record of how Churches of Christ navigated this period. Dialogue between mainstream Churches of Christ readers and Mission supporters and contributors parallels tensions among American evangelicals in the post-war era, through the 1980s.

This essay describes a unique relationship between Mission’s rejection by mainstream Churches of Christ and Mission’s content that challenged shared worship practices, particularly the matter of women’s participation in worship leadership. I will explore this through an evaluation of Mission’s thematic emphases, patterns of circulation, and leadership characteristics. I review Mission’s content and history, and interviews with editors and board members ten to fifteen years after Mission’s end. Hill’s prescription for “ways out” of 1960s crisis and Wuthnow’s diagnosis of American religious changes in the 1980s provide contemporaneous voices evaluating this twenty-year period. Churches of Christ’s biblicism and restorationist focus on worship practices and polity correlate to Mission’s most significant conflict with their mainstream Churches of Christ readership. These conflicts indicate an important qualification of Churches of Christ among southern evangelical Christians, and the significance of liturgical practice in attempts to renew discipleship and doctrine.

Churches of Christ and American Evangelicalism

This historical-theological survey suggests points of convergence and distinction between Churches of Christ and American evangelicalism. One can expect a variety of conclusions about the relationship of Churches of Christ and evangelicalism, given a lack of consensus on an authoritative representation of either. In the case of evangelicalism, I will largely defer to theological rather than sociological boundaries.7 However, the social context of the discussion that follows will account for many of American evangelicalism’s sociological characteristics. The evangelical tradition of southern churches, as Hill describes it, is also congruent with the theological definitions that follow. Perhaps an attempt to define evangelicalism without addressing all its objectors is tenuous, but I will attempt to make use of these common categories in describing the theological community addressed below.

If nuanced, British church historian David Bebbington’s quadrilateral offers a limited but useful summary of evangelical theological characteristics: biblicism, conversionism, activism, and crucicentrism.8 Several alternative models affirm versions of each of these characteristics. Biblicism, or the final authority of Scripture, is frequently recognized.9 Further, some definitions note the importance of affirming the historical quality of the biblical witness.10 Conversionism recognizes the centrality of individual commitment to Christ, as well as the personal and experiential qualities of evangelical faith.11 Activism assumes individual responsibility for one’s piety and faith development, but is most often expressed in personal evangelism.12 This category might also include one’s commitment to a church community.13 Finally, crucicentrism points to a common theology of atonement and accompanying hermeneutical lens, emphasizing the sacrificial death of Jesus, sometimes to the exclusion of his life, teachings, or resurrected presence.

In a 2002 consideration of whether Churches of Christ are evangelical, Edward P. Myers concluded, “In short, yes.”14 However, his take on summarizing the characteristics of various definitions is telling, as he concludes that evangelicalism consists of two basic qualities: “(1) Affirmation of history: events described in the Bible happened in real time; . . . (2) Affirmation that God really speaks in Scripture. Hence, Scripture is authoritative. All else flows out of this.”15

In the midst of his argument, Myers takes time to critique Stone-Campbell historian Richard Hughes’s affirmation of Churches of Christ as conforming to evangelicalism during the late twentieth century. Hughes distinguishes foundational restorationist and reformation theological emphases, noting that the former presumes human initiative, and the genius of the latter is an affirmation of God’s gracious initiative.16 The general commitment to restore the practice and polity of New Testament Christianity perhaps privileges biblicism over all other aspects of Bebbington’s characteristics, with the assumption that not only the Bible but its common-sense interpretation is authoritative. When Myers summarizes evangelicalism in a way that suits his understanding of Churches of Christ, he solidifies this.

Further, the quadrilateral would have to be set in the framework of what the Stone-Campbell founders considered the central means of the Restorationist task. In describing their plans for unity and apostolicity, the Campbells frequently demonstrate a central interest in the primitive church’s polity and practice.17

Churches of Christ biblicism is qualified by their restorationism, and their restorationism is qualified by a focus on polity and practices. What is consistent in the survey of Mission below is conflict within Churches of Christ when each characteristic of evangelical Christianity is folded into a vision for restoring New Testament polity and practice. Perhaps the quadrilateral only describes the Churches of Christ with some qualification related to polity and practice. The atoning sacrifice of Jesus and conversion of the individual is rightly celebrated in baptism and the Lord’s Supper. The active faith of the believer is demonstrated through preserving and sustaining the church’s patterns and boundaries. Evangelistic effort emphasizes bringing others into the right way of performing the acts authorized by Scripture.

While Hill’s “ways out” were intended to respond to the church’s intersection with social turmoil, the way in which each is implemented by Mission becomes increasingly challenging as each impinges on these restorationist priorities. Readers and critics were not as challenged by Mission’s accusations regarding failures on social and political matters as they were troubled by the implications of Mission’s historical and theological challenges to polity and practice. Mission’s decline in readership and distancing from mainstream Churches of Christ was affected by promoting historical awareness, theological objectification, and ecumenicism, but was centered in liturgical objectification that challenged the heart of Churches of Christ biblicism. The role of women in the Sunday assembly is a highly charged intersection of hermeneutics, cultural bias, and congregational mission which serves as a focus of this distinction.

Way Out Number One: Developing a Sense of History

From its first issue in July, 1967, Mission brought a new sense of both the historic church and the church’s place in its present context. Throughout its two decades, Mission consistently named the cultural figures and forces to which the church must respond, calling the church to see the kingdom of God over and against these historical-cultural sources of power and identity. Mission modeled a deep self-awareness when it came to Stone-Campbell history and theological heritage and the political and philosophical narratives it privileged. In a 1980 editorial, Mission editor-in-chief Richard Hughes saw the magazine as examining how Churches of Christ had historically viewed social responsibility, and exhorting the church “to accept in faith the ambiguities of the present world and to work toward their alleviation.”18

Robert Wuthnow describes the changing role of religion during this transitional time, noting that Americans in the early twentieth century viewed religion as the keeper of cultural values. Churches and other religious institutions were a critical part of socialization regarding these values.19 Mission regularly addressed the weakness of a gospel that traded history and congregational context for nationalism and individualism. Walter Burch described the milieu in which Mission emerged:

Many black Americans had recently embraced the concept of black pride as a new force in their unfinished struggle for racial equality. The grinding human needs of the underclass were impressed deeply on the national consciousness. . . . The Vietnam War was heating up and arousing a storm of protest about its legality. World powers were accelerating the nuclear arms race. The youth counterculture . . . was in full bloom while the drug subculture was beginning to surface. Emerging issues such as women’s rights, ecological concerns, consumerism, and the Third World cried out for attention and action.20

This milieu was represented through inviting a variety of voices, particularly in Mission’s early years, to respond to these social realities. “An image for me as editor,” said Victor Hunter, “was to convene the conversation.”21 This meant bringing those progressive influences into dialogue with mainstream conservative perspectives. Mission illuminated, and perhaps exposed, the relationship of Churches of Christ to the depth and breadth of both its theological and cultural commitments. Readers were given the language to identify themselves as members of an American Christian movement, rather than simply recipients of the pristine Ancient Order.

Mission frequently featured and engaged Stone-Campbell history both by challenging readers’ assumptions and mining for the best of its heritage. Although the first decade of Mission often engaged history by exposing the human tradition beneath certain doctrines and practices, Hughes’s years often focused on claiming and celebrating historical figures that fit Mission’s aims. Hughes’s editorship appeared to reposition Mission among its potential subscriber base, featuring a more tempered tone compared to preceding years.22 Hughes drew on the Churches of Christ’s trust in Scripture and familiar figures within the historical fellowship to continue facing contemporary issues. Interviews and contributors outside Churches of Christ featured emerging and prominent historians of American Christianity such as Nathan Hatch and George Marsden. It also regularly featured prominent and emerging Stone-Campbell historians including David Edwin Harrell and C. Leonard Allen, both members of Churches of Christ. The larger tabloid-style covers in the early ’80s featured cover models such as David Lipscomb, James A. Garfield, and Alexander Campbell.23

By December 1978, Mission’s circulation was less than half of what it was in December 1973.24 Hughes’s editorial strategy, beginning in 1979, may have kept the publication afloat during a period of decline for evangelical print generally and Mission in particular. The recovery of history threatened the relationship of Mission to their mainstream readership when confronting the absorption of church history into biblical or American historical narratives. However, the use of heritage-specific historical models of Christian faith and life offered a means of addressing contemporary political and social issues that sustained the magazine’s relationship to mainstream Churches of Christ, despite its consistent progressive tone. By insisting on engaging the mainstream in dialogue and focusing on historically reliable witnesses, Mission promoted this “way out” of crisis with some success.

Way Out Number Two: Ecumenism

Expanding ecumenism could sustain southern churches in crisis by developing a stronger sense of connection to a broader Christian tradition, enriching a sense of the models for Christian identity and community in the midst of cultural change.

Mission consistently represented Christians from outside of Churches of Christ as reliable witnesses for New Testament Christianity. In 1968, Carl Stem interviewed Gordon Cosby of Washington DC’s Church of the Savior about the congregation’s response to community needs.25 Mission’s featured authors and topics called attention to its ecumenical and conciliatory work. The March 1970 issue featured an interview with Firm Foundation editor Reuel Lemmons and James DeForest Murch, a minister of the Stone-Campbell Christian Churches.26 Mission was conscious of its ecumenism as a challenge to the status quo within their heritage. A revealing comment about the community Mission represented appeared when Vic Hunter devoted the February 1974 issue to Francis Schaeffer, an evangelical intellectual. In describing the relationship of Schaeffer’s work and the readers of Mission, Hunter wrote:

We believe our family of readers is a searching group of men and women who have and are struggling with many of the issues and questions which Francis and Edith Schaeffer and their children have met in their own odyssey of faith. We believe you are people who desire to be committed to biblical Christianity but who struggle with the question of what is normative in the Bible and what is preserved by historical accident. We are aware that our readers take culture seriously and are concerned with the plight and problems of man as he faces the last quarter of the twentieth century. We, therefore, believe you are not willing to deny culture and opt for an “otherworldly” Christianity, but are attempting to develop a faith that confronts our culture with realistic Christian conviction. We believe you desire to be involved in meaningful Christian community which will be supportive and helpful rather than simply another institutional burden to bear. We feel that you have seen the inadequacies of rationalism to provide answers to the deep and multifaceted problems of modern man, but that you are looking for the relationship between faith and rationality. We believe many of you have seen the bankruptcy of old line liberalism as well as the arid barrenness of much evangelical Christianity.27

This reflected assumptions that continued in future years of the magazine: dissatisfaction with faith that was limited to one particular tradition, desire to look beyond a limited philosophical heritage, and challenging inaction due to a theology insufficient for its context.

Mission’s reliance on ecumenical sources reached a breadth perhaps unseen since the first generations of Restorationist thinkers. Before featuring the Presbyterian author and pastor Schaeffer, Mission granted pages to New Testament scholar G. R. Beasley-Murray and New York’s historic Riverside Church pastor Ernest T. Campbell. Mission pursued an interview with Pat Boone, the once beloved Churches of Christ celebrity regularly condemned after embracing Pentecostal tongue-speaking. The entire July 1974 issue was devoted to the impact of progressive Swiss Catholic theologian Hans Küng.

This ecumenical range of public figures and scholars had much to do with the theological education represented among editors and contributors. Board member Dwayne Evans described the impact of neo-orthodox theologian Karl Barth on his thinking.28 Editor Roy Bowen Ward’s major advisor at Harvard was Swedish New Testament scholar and ecumenist Krister Stendahl, whose “strong concern for social matters” and stance on women’s leadership had an impact on Ward.29 Ward and editor Victor Hunter also indicated the influence of Ward’s Harvard professor Paul Tillich.30 Hunter was influenced by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and the diverse theological setting he experienced in London in the late 1960s. Hunter attended Union Theological Seminary, and studied under Brazilian liberation theologian Rubem Alves, social ethicist Roger Shinn, feminist theologian Beverly Harrison, and black theologian James Cone.31 Board member Larry James indicates the importance of studying liberation theology at a non-Churches of Christ seminary, including a class with Cone. James also identified the influence of neo-orthodox theologians and Anabaptist ethicist John Howard Yoder.32 These contributors stood within the Stone-Campbell circle and spoke with voices that few contemporaries in Churches of Christ had recognized as New Testament Christians.

American Christians experienced an education gap developed during this decade, dividing religious people along religious, social, and political issues. This divide is represented in Mission’s relationship to Churches of Christ, as well. Americans were becoming more educated during the later twentieth century. But, increased levels of higher education correlated to a decline in commitments to traditional tenets of evangelical faith. Surveys of college graduates showed they were less likely to hold traditional evangelical views about the authority of Scripture, divinity of Christ, or necessity of baptism.33 College educated individuals were also more likely to affirm liberal political views regarding women’s rights, legalized abortion, and overspending on national defense, while de-prioritizing traditional moral standards regarding sexuality.34 To top it off, education levels correlated to a decline in church attendance.35

Mission regularly addressed the issue of losing a generation of church members from Churches of Christ, noting declines in membership and the absence of younger members. In part, Mission offered a reasoned, studied, “realistic Christian conviction” with the disillusioned in mind, recognizing the impact of education in non-Christian institutions. To the extent that Mission’s ecumenism was driven by its relationships to liberal theology, ecumenism challenged sectarianism and threatened a hermeneutical commitment central to Churches of Christ. But Mission served as a safe place to continue a family dispute rather than announcing divorce. Like Mission’s relationship to deepening an awareness of history, this way out of crisis had mixed results but was not decisive.

Way Out Number Three: Theological Objectification

Decontextualized or dehistoricized theology and practice made it difficult to evaluate tradition and to discern cultural bias from religious principle. Therefore, Hill’s “theological objectification” served southern churches in cultural transition by detaching culturally received ways of seeing the world from the authority of Christian revelation.

Mission typically engaged Scripture with the hermeneutical priority on the “weightier matters” of justice in the Gospels and the Prophets. This represented not only a hermeneutical shift but a shift in theological emphasis. The new emphasis was born of both the historical-critical view of Scripture and liberal political vision typical of those on Mission’s side of the education gap. Larry James, who joined the board in 1985, asserted that Mission’s supporters represented a politically liberal minority within their congregations and describing Mission as “the Democratic party at prayer inside the Churches of Christ.”36 Both this new view of Scripture and Mission’s political leanings resulted in some of Mission’s heaviest criticism from its historical fellowship. Both matters, in fact, may be seen as challenges to an orthodoxy peculiar to the Churches of Christ and American evangelicalism.

Articles regularly appeared credited to “Pseudo-Amos” (editor Roy Bowen Ward). The first, composed in the style of a minor prophet, critiqued various denominational groups before getting to the Churches of Christ:

because they sell the inner city for suburban sanctuaries

and the ghetto for heated baptisteries and soft lights

that they trample the head of the indigents and immigrants

and turn aside the way of the addicts and alcoholics

And, he concluded, they “are not grieved over the ruin of our people!”37 As Hunter further reflected on his image of an editor, he described Mission as attempting “to balance ‘convening a conversation’ and ‘calling for a commitment.’ ”38

Wuthnow’s discussion of division regarding social issues during this period plays out in Mission’s pages, as well. Wuthnow notes that American Christianity divided between denominational commitments on support of the Vietnam war. Denominations with higher education rates and more liberal political and social perspectives critiqued or opposed the war.39 For the conservative, Vietnam was a war on communism, communism was a direct threat to the American way of life, and the American way of life was the purview of conservative Christianity as the caretaker of social morality. Thus, Mission’s stance on Vietnam and critique of conservative politics lined up with not only different theological opinions but also different denominational identities. Alignment with the anti-war movement during Cold War anti-communism amounted to (a) using Scripture to defend a denominationally heterodox cultural critique and (b) alignment with the denominations, as opposed to Churches of Christ. Association with modern hermeneutics, suspect among conservative Christians and Churches of Christ, grounded the co-indicated political commitments.

Mission’s March 1974 Nixon cover, depicting the president in an overcoat lined with surveillance and recording devices, resulted in a large number of subscriber complaints and cancellations. To use a Churches of Christ periodical to criticize and cartoon the American president violated not only partisan voting lines but also an interweaving of Christian identity and the American way of life.40 A political attack on a theological basis failed a test of unwritten American Christian orthodoxy. The months which followed saw the end of Mission’s peak circulation.

However, circulation managers Tom and Dorothy Olbricht remembered a greater reaction in subscription cancellations resulting from Neil Buffaloe’s “God or Evolution?” in April 1969.41 Buffaloe, a biology professor at State College of Arkansas in Conway, asserted the possibility of a figurative, literary, or spiritual reading of Genesis 1–3 that would alleviate the tensions between evolutionary science and Christian faith.42 Of the three articles mentioned in interviews as generating reactive reader letters or being detrimental to subscription numbers, including a critique of Harding University’s tie to conservative politics and the 1975 Nixon cover, Buffaloe’s represented the greatest direct challenge to a biblicist view of Scripture’s authority. Declines in Mission’s readership correlated most strongly with challenges to political identity, a correlation of Christian faith and American values, and biblical interpretation, particularly influenced by the hermeneutic taught in non-Christian colleges and universities.

Buffaloe’s promotion of evolution against a literal reading of Genesis and the Nixon cover were, in the minds of his opponents, both threats to theological infallibility. Articulation of progressive politics and evolutionary science were the last straws for many readers. These topics’ challenge to theological and hermeneutical infallibility broke family dialogue with Churches of Christ. The drop in subscriptions and resulting reduction in civil dialogue within Mission’s pages was, for all intents and purposes, a slow disfellowshipping of the publication.

Way Out Four: Liturgical Objectification

The process of liturgical objectification allows a church to recognize and evaluate the boundaries created by commitments to worship practices. In Hill’s view, “liturgical objectification” issues from a shift in hermeneutical and theological emphases, providing “a church structure which facilitates penetrating self-evaluation and requisite change.”43 This employs the posture of theological objectification in viewing what churches consider normative Christian worship, the site of revelation, communion, and commitment that gives shape to discipleship, ethics, and lived Christian experience. The capacity to evaluate worship practices contributes to cultural exegesis, potentially strengthening congregational mission. As liturgical theologians assert, the law of prayer is the law of faith—lex orandi, lex credendi.44 To shift worship practices is to effect doctrinal change, and vice-versa. The simple assumption that these practices are historical and contextual, open to reflection and reform was particularly challenging for Churches of Christ, given the focus of restoring the primitive church regarding worship practices and congregational polity. Mission authors asserted that this hermeneutical priority had given the Sunday morning assembly too great a weight in the balance of Christian identity and witness. They also recognized that the hermeneutical shift necessary to address these practices would challenge the foundations of the Churches of Christ’s particular restorationism.

Pseudo-Amos’s indictment above captures a frequent theme of critically addressing churches’ tendencies to focus on the pattern of Sunday morning, rather than the pattern of Christian life in the world.45 Pseudo-Amos’s criticism echoed in Don Haymes’s “The Christ of the Gospels,” but to a more specific end. Haymes, a theological librarian, was a friend and frequent collaborator of Mission’s founders, whose focus was often social justice: “No matter how cleverly we rearrange the liturgy, no matter how valiantly we proclaim the newly-exhumed Holy Spirit, no matter how dynamically we preach sermons on race relations, no matter how adventurously we propose new programs, we are left with the essential fact that the church is still primarily interested in the church, in the perpetuation of itself as an institution and the preservation of its comfort.”46 Mission often contrasted the weightier matters of social justice with patternist readings of Scripture aimed at crafting a biblically faithful Sunday assembly. Mission’s reflection on liturgy and worship rejected attempts to make acceptable worship forms and styles the central task of the church. Following the Old Testament prophets, the call to justice set the Sunday morning service and the local ministries of the church in its sights.

For Churches of Christ, the public role of women in the Sunday assembly was a matter of great importance as it tied together commitments to American moral values (i.e., traditional gender roles), the denominational identity marked by common worship practices, and both the theological emphases and hermeneutical perspective that defined an authoritative reading of Scripture. Mission’s consistent gender egalitarianism was more prevalent during the critical years of its break from mainstream Churches of Christ than any other matter on which it served as the “loyal opposition.” When asked to reflect on which social issues received the most attention during his editorship, Ron Durham exclusively named “the injustice of Churches of Christ practice regarding the role of women,” listing thirteen individual articles as important examples.47

The chart below marks the occurrence of articles and responses, including published letters, devoted to each social issue noted during the entire run of Mission.48 Ward’s years evidenced the greatest participation from varying perspectives among Churches of Christ, Hunter’s years began the unrecoverable decline in circulation and diminishment of published counter-perspectives, and Holley’s marked the end of the magazine’s run.

 

Race & Civil Rights

War & Peace

Civil Disobedience

Civil Religion

Political Activism

Women’s Equality

Ward (1967–1972)

27

20

9

2

24

7

Hunter (1973–1975)

5

1

6

5

19

20

Durham (1975–1979)

4

5

1

2

19

30

Hughes (1979–1982)

1

2

0

7

2

3

Holley (1982–1988)

6

11

0

0

1

13

Table 1: Selected Social Issues Appearing as Article Subjects during Mission Editorships

Occurrences of content related to women’s rights and women’s roles in public worship spiked during the years of Mission’s disfellowshipping-by-subscription-cancellation. Articles on these subjects rose again, above any other political issue addressed, as Mission concluded its run.

During Bobbie Lee Holley’s editorship, social justice issues were often framed not only as the responsibility of Christians in the world but also as the responsibility of Christians toward one another within the local church and throughout the fellowship of Churches of Christ. Articles in this era often addressed power, agency, and diversity in the congregation, especially regarding women’s participation in public worship and the norm of male eldership. Given the editor-bishop tradition of authority49 among Churches of Christ, Holley’s position itself challenged a traditional women’s role in the church without the aid of a literal pulpit. Holley was also the first (and only, throughout her editorship) female editor-in-chief among Churches of Christ publications with comparable circulation.50

After the circulation drop of the mid 1970s, it became apparent that Mission’s readership and its larger ecclesial heritage were, metaphorically speaking, no longer reading Scripture together. An increasing number of authors and board members were also no longer attending Churches of Christ.51 The tension between Mission’s voice and the Churches of Christ, heightened by challenges to political commitments and the denomination’s biblicism, reached a peak as Mission challenged the polity and practices of individual congregations. Perhaps it was this turn from what church members should be doing in the world to how the church should be performing their shared identity in Sunday morning worship that sealed the separation of Mission from its family of origin.52

The Unique Challenge of Gender and Worship

Wuthnow identified feminism as a unique disqualifier for evangelical orthodoxy during the period of Mission’s publication. In a 1973 study,

only 38 percent of those who explained events in terms of traditional beliefs about God said they favored equal rights for women, compared with 64 percent of those who explained events with a combination of ideas from secular sources. . . .

Rooted as it was among the better educated, feminism functioned much like the liberal, egalitarian values of the “new class” more generally. It ran counter to the more traditionalistic values that had been prominent in the churches during the 1950s.

To the more conservative parishioners in the churches, the feminist movement seemed too much a part of the recent counterculture, too closely associated with sexual experimentation, too much in sympathy with abortion and permissive moral standards to arouse support.53

Wuthnow’s description of evangelical reactions to feminism suggest that Mission’s affirmation for women’s rights, and women’s rightful role in public leadership, was an issue that presumed every previous “way out.” On the matter of providing a “way out” of liturgical objectification, Mission offered historical and Scriptural means of rethinking practices of a capella singing and traditional service structures, which were, after all, arguments from silence. However, to suggest that women should take on a biblically prohibited role in public worship was a block to that way. Only those who had embraced theological objectification could cross this final bridge. The feminist assertion embraced liberal scholarship and a new hermeneutical emphasis, simultaneously displacing biblicism and liturgical patternism.

This resonates with what occurred in Mission’s relationship with its Churches of Christ readership. It also illuminates the nuance required in describing Churches of Christ as theologically evangelical. Loretta Hunnicutt has described women’s roles for much of the Churches of Christ “tied to issues of hermeneutics and cultural practices that vary from congregation to congregation.”54 John Mark Hicks identified the effect of southern culture in limiting interpretations about women’s public roles in worship in the early twentieth century. According to Hicks, the “Tennessee Tradition” and the “Texas Tradition” imposed a cultural ideal of womanhood—the “Cult of True Womanhood” that reigned in the deep postbellum South—that discouraged interpreting the two key biblical texts about women’s silence in any other way.55 Stephen C. Johnson and Lynette Sharp Penya reported that tradition, lack of consensus, and factors related to preserving congregational unity were the most frequently cited barriers to gender inclusion among churches they surveyed.56

However, Johnson and Penya also note that there were more inclusive congregations in the south than any other region,57 confronting a “myth” that presumes gender-inclusive Churches of Christ are unique to parts of the country more inclined to progressive social and political perspectives. These findings suggest that congregational culture is more binding than cultural context in the early twenty-first century. This seems congruent with Hill’s reflection that the crisis faced by the church following the restructuring of the late twentieth century is one imposed by the church on the culture, rather than incited by historical and contextual shifts. If Churches of Christ are unique among southern evangelicals due to a restorationism focused on worship practice and polity, then they are uniquely resistant to Hill’s “ways out” of crisis once those ways confront the Sunday morning assembly.

In fact, Hill observed this peculiarity in an August 1980 contribution to Mission. Hughes aimed the issue at addressing Churches of Christ southern roots, featuring David Lipscomb on the cover. Hill’s article considered “sources of estrangement between the Churches of Christ and the mainstream popular churches.” First, Hill observed a withdrawn, standoffish posture on matters of political involvement and interchurch cooperation. This, of course, would connote a reticence regarding ecumenical dialogue. Second, he described a unique approach to the Bible’s authority. In this regard, Hill viewed Churches of Christ belonging to a category of southern churches he identified as “truth-oriented conservatives” who carried not only a commitment to scriptural authority but a particular epistemological position that “it is possible to know perfectly what the truths are which make up that truth.”58

Hill offered a typology in which the Truth-oriented type was distinguished from Service-oriented, Spirituality-oriented, or Conversion-oriented southern churches.59 His categories may be correlated with the quadrilateral categories of biblicism (Truth), activism (Service, Spirituality), and crucicentrism blended with conversionism (Conversion). His observation recognized the alignment with evangelical biblicism as the clearest correlating characteristic to Churches of Christ.

But, said Hill, late-twentieth-century Churches of Christ differed from others in the southern Truth-oriented type. To clarify this, Hill described the way in which the Bible was employed in worship: “Being quintessential rationalists, these people go to church to hear the truths of belief and practice spelled out from the Bible; and being profound objectivists, they contend that the texts of the Bible speak their own truth, needing only to be held up without alloy, in fact, little more than read.”60 Hill’s observation pointed to a challenge for employing theological objectification given the lack of a clearly articulated theological framework.

Hill continued by recognizing a third characteristic that was a bit of a mystery to him. Hill described southerners as carrying a rich tradition of storytelling, which he believed was comparatively absent from the experience of Churches of Christ. Rather than viewing the Christian life in story form, he believed Churches of Christ viewed “the Christian life as principles and axioms to be believed and laws to be observed.”61 Hill identified this as a somber quality unique to Churches of Christ religious life, but he observed that outside of religious practice, “in their ordinary rounds, the members of those churches are very nearly as southern as the mainstream church members. Perhaps it is this disparity between church style and ordinary life style which distinguishes the Churches of Christ as much as any single factor.”62

In addressing the lack of women in public worship leadership, Johnson and Penya employ a lex orandi, lex credendi implication of this practice: the law of prayer is the law of faith. The authors observe that inclusive congregations invite women to participate vocally on a progressive pattern beginning with Scripture reading, then congregational prayers, then communion thoughts, and then finally (and only rarely) preaching. They conclude that this indicates an assumption about which practices carry the most authority by directing the congregation: Scripture is pre-selected, prayer is speaking to God, but communion comments direct the congregation’s thoughts.63 “We hear women speaking; however, we do not hear their voices (their ideas, beliefs, opinions, and feelings).”64 A church engaged in this practice does not have to articulate a theology privileging gender; they embody it liturgically. A pattern of worship is a culture. By Hill’s assessment, late-twentieth-century Churches of Christ were uniquely bicultural, with one foot in the human-storied world, and the other in the biblicist assembly.

Mission’s various challenges to Churches of Christ social and political allegiances were certainly cause for tension, and the tone with which those challenges were often delivered was also cause for mainstream Churches of Christ disapproval. But, as seen above, the eventual separation of Mission from mainstream readership is tied to challenges of polity and practice, as much or more than challenges to politics, ecumenism, or even liberal theology in general. Readers of Mission, among Churches of Christ, shared much of the experience of conservative American Christians during this period, as described by Wuthnow in the 1980s. Mission provided an interesting test-case of Hill’s “ways out” for southern churches during the social unrest of the 1960s and 1970s that sparked Mission’s birth. But a renewal of the church’s mission is also linked to the church’s faith and worship. As later liturgical theologians assert,65 lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi: the law of prayer is the law of faith is the law of lived Christian experience. A sustainable change to a way of believing must be accompanied by a change to the way of worshiping and a change to the way of Christian living. A church without a place in their worship for the voices of Mission’s concerns, whose bicultural nature made the link from worship and faith to missional context more difficult to trace, was in a uniquely difficult position to make sense of Mission’s invitation “to explore thoroughly the Scriptures and their meaning; . . . to understand as fully as possible the world in which the church lives and has her mission; . . . to provide a vehicle for communicating the meaning of God’s Word to our contemporary world.”66

David Lemley is an assistant professor of Religion at Pepperdine University. He teaches practical theology and ministry, with an emphasis on spirituality and worship. His primary research interests include worship music and spirituality in American culture. He has served in youth and worship ministries of Churches of Christ and as Pepperdine University Chaplain 2007–2013. He serves the adult education ministry for University Church of Christ (Malibu, CA).

Adapted from a presentation at the Thomas H. Olbricht Christian Scholars’ Conference, Lipscomb University, Nashville, TN, June 8–10, 2016.

1 Samuel S. Hill Jr., Southern Churches in Crisis (New York: Rinehart and Winston, 1967).

2 Hill reflected on his 1966 work three decades later in Samuel S. Hill, Southern Churches in Crisis Revisited (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 1999). His foreword clarified that the original work failed to recognize the diversity of individual faith, denominational variety, the experience of women, and in particular the contributions to southern religion by black churches. The description of these “ways out” as strategies for white evangelicals suits Hill’s later observations but remains relevant to the majority of Mission’s leadership and authors. Hill would also see in hindsight that the cultural shifts of the late 1960s far exceeded his focus at the time (xxxix).

3 Hill, Southern, 203–6.

4 The original Editorial Policy Statement appeared in “The Task of Mission,” Mission 1, no. 1 (July 1967): 3, and occurred in the same form from 1967 to 1988.

5 Robert Wuthnow, The Restructuring of American Religion (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988).

6 Hill, Revisited, xxx–xxxi.

7 Richard Hughes asserts the alignment of Churches of Christ with evangelicals occurring as the two groups evidenced a common social ethic and political commitment. I would generally agree. This alignment is detailed in Richard T. Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith: The Story of Churches of Christ in America (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 254–269, and more concisely argued in Richard T. Hughes, “Are Restorationists Evangelicals?” in The Variety of American Evangelicalism, ed. Donald Dayton and Robert Johnston (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1991): 109–34.

8 David Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain: A History from the 1730s to the 1980s (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1989), 2–3.

9 For example, some aspect of Scripture’s authority or sola scriptura is included by George Marsden, “The Evangelical Denomination,” in Evangelicalism and Modern America (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984); Martin Marty, “The Revival of Evangelicalism and Southern Religion,” in Varieties of Southern Evangelicalism, ed. David Edwin Harrell (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1981); Alister McGrath, Evangelicalism and the Future of Christianity (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1995).

10 E.g., “the real, historical character of God’s saving work” (Marsden, “Evangelical,” x).

11 E.g., “an intense experience of Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Marty, “Revival,” 10); “a spiritually transformed life” (Marsden, “Evangelical,” x).

12 Like scriptural authority, the obligation to evangelize others is included in all the examples noted here.

13 E.g., “the importance of Christian community for spiritual nourishment, fellowship, and growth” (McGrath, Evangelicalism, 56).

14 Edward P. Myers, “Churches of Christ (A Cappella): Are We Evangelical?” in Evangelicalism and the Stone-Campbell Movement (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2002), 67.

15 Myers, 54.

16 Hughes, “Are Restorationists Evangelicals?,”127.

17 As Douglas Foster summarizes the Churches of Christ understanding of apostolic authority, he surveys founding documents such as Thomas Campbell’s “Declaration and Address” (1809), Alexander Campbell’s The Christian System (1835), and James C. Creel’s Plea to Restore the Apostolic Church (1902), describing their concerns in each case with, in my observation, nearly exclusive interest in polity and worship practices. See Douglas A. Foster, “The Nature of the Apostolicity of the Church: Perspectives from Churches of Christ,” in Ancient Faith and American-Born Churches (New York: Paulist, 2006): 71–80.

18 Richard Hughes, “Great Expectations,” Mission 13, no. 9 (March 1980): 8.

19 Wuthnow, 63.

20 Walter Burch, “The Birth of Mission: Remembering the Way We Were,” Mission 20, no. 3 (September 1986), 10.

21 Victor Hunter (Mission editor-in-chief, 1973–1975), interview by author, 10 April, 2000. Faxed typed response to interview questions in possession of author.

22 Hughes states in an interview that he intended to “reach out to the mainstream,” a strategy which drew some accusations from readers and trustees that he was taking a more conservative approach. Richard Hughes (Mission editor-in-chief, 1979–1982), interview by author, March 1999, Malibu, California. Tape recording in possession of author.

23 See Mission 14, no. 2 (August 1980), Mission 14, no. 5 (November 1980), and Mission 15, no. 7 (January 1982), respectively.

24 Total actual mail subscriptions in December 1973 were listed at 4,111, Mission’s circulation peak.

25 See Carl H. Stem, “Interview of the Month,” Mission 1, no. 9 (March 1968).

26 See J. W. Roberts and Thomas H. Olbricht, “The Spirit of St. Louis,” Mission 3, no. 9 (March 1973), 262–68.

27 Victor Hunter, “What and So What,” Mission 8, no 8 (February 1974), 227.

28 Evans, interview.

29 Roy Bowen Ward (Mission editor-in-chief, July 1967–December 1972), letter to David Lemley, July 3, 1999. Manuscript in author’s possession.

30 Victor Hunter (Mission editor-in-chief, 1973–1975), letter to David Lemley, April 10, 2000. Manuscript in author’s possession.

31 Hunter, interview.

32 Larry James (Mission trustee, 1985–1988), interview by author, July 30, 1998, Abilene, Texas. Tape recording in possession of author.

33 Wuthnow, 169.

34 Ibid.

35 “Religious participation rates declined more rapidly” among the educated from the 1960s through the 1980s (Wuthnow, 170).

36 James, interview.

37 Pseudo-Amos [Roy Bowen Ward], “Oracles of a Nonprophet,” Mission 2, no. 2 (August 1968): 28–29.

38 Hunter, interview.

39 Wuthnow, 224.

40 Marsden states that the dominant American fundamentalist tradition “viewed God’s redemptive work as manifested by the spiritual and moral progress of American society” by the late nineteenth century, particularly of the comfortable middle class (Marsden, Fundamentalism, 38). Marsden considers this view as only challenged by the rise of premillennialism, of which Churches of Christ had been disabused by the early twentieth century (according to Hughes, Reviving, 137-167). Wuthnow, Restructuring, 67, notes Eisenhower’s significant contribution to equating faith and the American way of life.

41 Tom and Dorothy Olbricht, interview by author (Pepperdine University, Malibu, California, 28 October 1999), in possession of author. Burch, interview, recounted Lynch’s article on Harding’s conservative political ties as resulting in the most reader reaction. It should also be noted that Walter Burch’s October 1974 report to the readers on the state of Mission provides additional information about internal challenges in 1974. Burch notes the decline of subscriptions (reported at 4,223 in December 1973, down to 3,649 in May 1974). Burch states that the magazine lost fifty subscribers attributable to the Watergate issue, but the total loss of subscribers was almost 700. The board concluded that an “irregular publishing schedule” blamed on a “stubborn production logjam” resulting in the appearance of April, May, and June issues in the same 30-day period caused many subscribers not to renew in the first five months of 1974.

42 Neil Buffaloe, “God or Evolution?” Mission 2, no. 10 (April 1969): 17–21.

43 Hill, 205.

44 This maxim is taken from a fifth-century letter by Prosper of Aquitaine, a contemporary of Augustine and participant in early Christian creedal councils. The principle of the reciprocal relationship between worship and doctrine, or prayer and faith, is a central point of exploration for liturgical scholarship. It is employed by students of Christian worship from Orthodox priest and liturgical theologian Alexander Schmemann to trans-denominational Protestant worship leader and scholar Constance Cherry. See Alexander Schmemann, Introduction to Liturgical Theology (New York: St. Vladimir’s, 1996); Constance Cherry, The Worship Architect (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010).

45 Pseudo-Amos, “Oracles,” 28–29.

46 See Don Haymes, “The Christ of the Gospels,” Mission 2, no. 2 (August 1968): 8.

47 Ron Durham (Mission editor-in-chief, 1975–1979), interview by author, 30 June 1999. Printed e-mail response to interview questions in possession of author.

48 This survey by no means exhausts all the occurrences of these themes but accounts for published material titled with reference to a subject. So, for example, while Richard Hughes included articles on historic church movements and figures that were exemplary of certain attitudes towards civil disobedience, these were not framed as editorial advocacy for a certain political activity for contemporary readers.

49 The concept of the editor-bishop describes the kind of teaching office authority attributed to editors and publishers in Churches of Christ, particularly through the early twentieth century. The phrase may be traced to Stone-Campbell pastor, educator, and editor W. T. Moore (1832–1926): “The Disciples do not have bishops; they have editors.” (Gary Lee, “Moore, William Thomas,” in The Encyclopedia of the Stone-Campbell Movement, ed. Douglas Foster, et. al. [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004]: 544). See also Richard Hughes, “The Editor Bishop: David Lipscomb and the Gospel Advocate,” in The Power of the Press: The Forrest F. Reed Lectures for 1986 (Nashville: Disciples of Christ Historical Society, 1986), 23.

50 Robert Douglas, “Power, Its Locus and Function in Defining Social Commentary in the Churches of Christ, Illustrated by a Case Study of Black Civil Rights” (PhD diss., University of Southern California, 1980), 121. Douglas did not include Power for Today, or mention 20th Century Christian, both of which had female co-editors beginning in the 1970s. Holley’s position was unique, however, as an editor-in-chief.

51 Randolph, interview.

52 Mission, however, continued to write for a readership invested in Churches of Christ. During Holley’s editorship from 1983 to 1987, the Restorationist Serials Index tags more than twenty articles a year with the subject keyword “church.” The subject phrases Churches of Christ, Stone-Campbell churches, or the Restorationist movement are associated with eight articles each year, on average. This information was compiled via a search of subject keywords using the Restoration Serials Index, http://www.restorationserialsindex.org/, accessed August 4, 2017.

53 Wuthnow, 227.

54 Loretta Hunnicutt, “What I Learned about Women,” Stone-Campbell Journal 16 (Fall 2013), 176.

55 John Mark Hicks, “Quiet Please: Churches of Christ in the Early Twentieth Century and the ‘Woman Question,’ ” Discipliana (September 2009), 14.

56 I include the authors’ reference to anticipating dissension, maintaining harmony, losing membership, and desire for slow change as factors related to preserving congregational unity. Stephen C. Johnson and Lynette Sharp Penya, “What the Other Half Is Doing: An Analysis of Gender Inclusivity in Church of Christ Congregations,” Restoration Quarterly 53, no. 4 (2011): 221–33.

57 Johnson and Penya, 229.

58 Samuel S. Hill Jr., “The Churches of Christ and Religion in the South,” Mission 14, no. 2 (August 1980), 14.

59 Ibid.

60 Ibid., 15.

61 Ibid., 16.

62 Ibid.

63 The designation of Scripture reading as the practice exercising the least authority affirms Hill’s description of Churches of Christ viewing Scripture reading as profoundly objective.

64 Johnson and Penya, 231.

65 E.g., Kevin Irwin, Context and Text: Method in Liturgical Theology (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1994); or Lester Ruth, “A Rose By Any Other Name,” in The Conviction of Things Not Seen, ed. Todd Johnson (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2002): 33–51.

66 “The Task of Mission,” 3.

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Missional Theology as Economic Enterprise

In this article, I aim to articulate missional theology as an economic enterprise wherein human agents seek to participate in God’s work in the world. I will first provide a brief conceptual framework for speaking of God’s economy. Next, I will discuss missional theology as prophetic economic practice. I will identify ways in which missional theology, as it has been consistent with the person of Jesus Christ, has embodied countercultural challenges to dominant imperial, colonial, and neo-liberal economic structures. In conclusion I will identify several prophetic economic possibilities for missional theology in service of churches in the present US context.

On Economies

On a basic etymological level economics is an ordering of the household, or the house (oikos) law (nomos)—the Greek roots of economic conceptualization. This definition, if it can be called that, demands that any conversation articulate the scope of the household and the process for determining proper order within the household. I find speaking of a “divine economy” problematic because of the basic ontological difference between humanity and God, and thus humanity’s limitations in attempts to understand “household” in the same way that God does—whether in a particular space, the world, or the Godhead. In accordance with the premise that all theological language is analogical, any discussion of divinity, whether in reference to a transcendent divine economy or divine mission, must begin with apophatic silence. We cannot speak definitively of divinity, but are rather at the mercy of God who has crossed the threshold into creation so that we might bear witness to the Spirit that inspires life within creation as created beings. Jesus Christ therefore serves as the image of God’s economy and God’s mission because he is the image of the invisible God—the embodiment of God’s work in a broken world. In other words, a missional economy is accessible through God’s work and revelation of the kingdom of God in and through the incarnation, as humanity receives the gift of the image of life fully lived by the Holy Spirit. Both economy and mission are relational terms that accentuate eccentric existence when applied to the person of Jesus.1 While recognizing our epistemic limitations, we can claim that Jesus is the embodiment of divine economy and mission and orients humanity to a particular way of relating to others, which enacts the kingdom of Heaven, unleashing life in this world.

The boundaries of kingdom articulated by Jesus throughout the Gospels are marked particularly by the use of power, the power involved in relating to another. A basic definition of kingdom of God for the purpose of this paper is wherever God reigns. And the interpretive mark of God’s reign and power is the image of Jesus Christ. Wherever the use of power toward another defies the way that Jesus uses his power, there economy and mission stand in opposition to the Kingdom of Heaven. The actions of war with another, hate for another, or suppression of another do not lie within the scope (household) of the boundaries of the kingdom of heaven. Definitions of economy and mission are subordinate to definitions of kingdom, and in order to be consistent with the kingdom of Heaven in the Gospels, economy and mission must also embody a process of relating to the other congruent with Jesus’ orientation to power. Coherence between mission and economy as embodied within Jesus Christ challenges traditional constructions of mission, economics, and politics in line with both state and individual contractual rights.

I believe this is the reason Wendell Berry identifies the appropriate scope for economics as the kingdom of God, applied in scale to the most particular of relationships.2 What we order is creation itself, gifted to humanity as stewards—stewards of the place and material that God has pronounced “good” and “blessed.” This pronouncement of the goodness and blessedness of creation can be identified not only as a theme in the Genesis creation account, but also as a theme throughout the prophets, the wisdom literature, and the actions of Jesus. As human agents we are part of that very blessed creation. As human agents each one of us enters into a particular history where others have formed institutions, alliances, governments, and markets. As human agents we do not get to choose the history into which we are born.

One contemporary approach to accessing a basic description of economic practice is through the art of dealing with limited (or scarce) resources amidst unlimited desire. This is a common definition that will hopefully raise concern among theologians and biblical scholars. Is individual desire unlimited? Is desire of the masses unlimited? Furthermore, are the resources truly limited? Which resources? What counts as a commodity subject to a market? If anything is unlimited it may be the examples of how human desire exceeds the limited resources to which we have access. Is human nature essentially competitive amidst scarce resources?

Capitalism is based on a creative turn, which aims to transform proclivity of individual discontent and greed into a social good. In other words, capitalism concedes the depravity of the individual. The contemporary “mission” of capitalism accepts individual vice and aims to achieve the unintended consequence of a greater good through structural organization of markets. The hope (and arguably, the illusion) of capitalism is that virtues of charity and justice, particularly as they emerge from a sense of compassion and sympathy for those who are suffering, might be employed to raise the condition of the poor and the suffering. Adam Smith, widely regarded as the father of modern capitalism, grounded his economic imagination in the fertile soil of virtue-ethics, wherein sympathy for another can be identified as a primary nutrient.3 Smith proposed that exchange between butcher, brewer, and baker (who nonetheless act according to self-interest) still exists in an environment where the sources of labor and production cannot be dehumanized without a detrimental effect on the economy. Yet, labor markets have become more mobile and transient power has not flowed in the direction of sympathy but of fear, trending toward self-justified consolidation of resources among the one percent. If selfishness is assumed and economic relationships are fundamentally competitive, the question of capitalism is how competition might lend itself to mutual benefit. And this is not a terrible question, given the premise. However, the world is now several hundred years into the experiment, and there is significant disagreement as to whether and for whom the capitalist mission is succeeding or failing.

Several theologians have pointed to language of God’s abundance in order to throw a wrench in the machine of capitalist ideology based on scarcity.4 I believe that this move requires additional attention, since God is not an equal economic player in our economic systems. On the one hand, God’s abundance is something attributable to God’s nature, as infinite and eternal, whereas humanity receives such gifts within and as finite creation. On the other hand, scarcity, particularly in this age of globalization, water crisis, and climate change, is a reality with which we must deal quite intentionally. The question at the heart of a missional economy is how God enters into situations of scarcity and how humanity might participate in such action as humans. Such a posture does not deny realities of scarcity, and it does not deny human complicity in economic and political relationships that have resulted in a lack of access to the most basic resources of food, water, shelter, and healthcare. However, this approach identifies a human capacity to live into created intent, not of competition with others in the created order, but mutual fulfillment by a Holy Spirit of love and grace.

Missional Theology as Economic Enterprise: A Proposal of Basic Principles

God, the giver of life, created the world to flourish through a particular relational power. This holy power, seen in creation, resurrection, and reconciliation, sets right that which is broken and destroyed by mundane powers of death. The mission, the telos, is life by the Spirit of God. The image of that life is Christ. In such an approach, value is determined within the particular relationship. This becomes quite complex within economies wherein the individual is largely disconnected from local markets. It is often cheaper to buy mechanically mass-produced produce from another country than produce raised with care and concern from within one’s own town. The marketing tactics involved in everything from selling a box of cereal to a new computer conceal power dynamics in global labor and production. Because economies of biblical contexts and present markets for even the most basic resources are so very different, one must be careful and precise when identifying points of contact between God’s mission and human participation. I believe that it is this tension, as much as any other, that reveals the need for a robust pneumatology in constructive theology.

I propose seven basic principles as an outline for missional theology as an economic enterprise:

  1. A holy conceptualization of mission begins with God’s work in and for creation.
  2. God’s mission is embodied in the person of Jesus Christ. Humanity is empowered to participate in God’s mission by the Holy Spirit. In other words, Christian mission is to be conformed to the image of Jesus Christ.
  3. Mission entails an economy, an ordering of a household, which requires consideration of the scope of the household and process of ordering the household.
  4. The household is the very kingdom of God, which encompasses all creation.
  5. We are not God, and therefore cannot participate in God’s economy with the world as God.
  6. Within creation, at any point in history there are myriad economies, all with points of confluence and resistance to God’s economy.
  7. Participation in God’s mission within history entails prophetic action—specifically working and speaking against the forces and spirits of domination and death, which stand in opposition to God’s Spirit of Life that creates, sustains, reconciles, and redeems.

This outline serves as an introductory proposal concerning the relationship between mission and economy that will hopefully lead to more discussion, contributions that fill in the gaps, and revision of the principles themselves. Whereas the paper up to this point has touched on the first six principles, remainder of the paper will address the seventh principle and the implication of living out these principles in the world today.

The Prophetic Nature of Mission as Economic Enterprise

I contend that theology is always economic, communicating values, dealing with scarcity and finite resources. Likewise, mission is a political and economic enterprise involving work and movement toward particular ends. Christian “mission” has been ambivalent in relation to imperial and colonial systems of domination from the early church until the present moment. Each system of power and conquest in which the Christian church has found itself has required churches to find a way to work either in collaboration, resistance, or alterity to the prevailing economic system. There are countless examples of Christian institutions and churches serving a dominating state, empire, or corporate ideology—Christian complicity in genocide and violent conquest in the name of mission is well-known enough not to require rehearsal here. However, in a neo-colonial age economic policy has been used to starve entire people groups, obstruct access to medicine and clean water, and exploit labor through language in service to the missions of nationalist democracy and the free market. Quite often, Christian complicity in global relationships marked by domination and exploitation can be difficult to identify when control of foreign policy happens indirectly through economic means instead of direct military occupation. Self-criticism based on an honest exploration of our own histories is critical for faithfulness and righteousness at this juncture.

It is possible to understand “mission” as an embodied economy within a given context. In this sense, mission is never unilateral, but a way of embodying values for humanity and creation within a given network of relationships. Mission is an economic enterprise because it engages value, production, distribution, labor, material within good creation, and information as relational constructions. When these constructions cohere with Christian confession, they are always embedded within locally, nationally, and globally constructed economies. There are many examples in history where Christian mission has served as a prophetic practice in opposition to imperial and imperialist domination. As we imagine how Christian mission might embody the prophetic economic alternative particularly within the United States and in global relationships we have many historical examples from which to draw.

I speak of a prophetic economy in the spirit of Abraham Heschel’s description of a prophetic theme, which he states, “is, first of all, the very life of a whole people, and [the prophet’s] identification lasts more than a moment. He is not only with what he says; he is involved with his people in what his words foreshadow. This is the secret of the prophet’s style: his life and soul are at stake in what he says and in what is going to happen to what he says.”5 To speak of a prophetic economy, and to identify those who embody economic practice that reflects Jesus, is to enter the perennial conversation of the relation of church and state, a question to which the field of Christian ethics has devoted itself. While I do not presume to solve the question, I do wish to orient the attention of this article to what kind of power is being used, and who benefits from the use of power. Scholars from Heschel to Walter Brueggemann to Nicholas Wolterstorff accentuate the prophetic theme of reminding political leaders that the success of the political body on every level (scope) is determined by how faithful the respective body is to the covenant. Success is therefore judged by the well-being of the poor, the sick, the widow, the orphan, and the alien. In each age Christianity has been challenged by prophets on political-economic matters.6

Prior to the Edict of Milan in 313, churches often embodied a prophetic economy due to the reality that Christians represented a minority and often gathered in secret or in resistance to imperial control. Whereas the response to Christian communities varied across the Roman Empire for the first three hundred years, from outright targeted persecution to disinterest to general acceptance as long as the Christians did not disturb the status quo, there are numerous examples of Christian action that communicate alternative values in the face of imperial practice. Central to economic practice of these early churches, in line with consistent prophetic attention to care for the widow, orphan, alien, and the sick, and in line with Jesus’ embodiment of this economic ethic, many early churches placed care for disenfranchised human persons at the center of their relational economy.

For instance, Paul’s description of the body (1 Cor 12:27–31, Eph 4:1–15) articulates an economy in which no part declares the other unnecessary. Paul’s metaphor of the body stands in direct contrast to hierarchical Greco-Roman political body metaphors that argue for complete bodily submission to the authority of the state, the elite, the educated, or the wealthy. Whereas Greek and Roman metaphors emphasize parts of the body playing hierarchical roles, Pauline invocations of the body metaphor allude to mutual flourishing, concern, and connectedness in service to Christ.

In fact, Christian churches have always existed within the tension of living into an imperial economy, which determines values and success according to the power structures of the empire, or living into a holy economic order, which operates according to the power of a Holy Spirit. In the epistles Paul presents an alternative language rife with challenges to imperial economics. Joerg Rieger points to the ambivalence of terms like ekklesia (church), euangellion (gospel), dikaiosunē (justice), eirēnē (peace), and kyrios (lord), which take on a spirit of resistance to an imperial order when used under the headship of Christ.7 Upon Constantine’s proclamation of Christianity as an accepted religion of the empire, the relationship between mission of the empire and mission of the church became more complex. Augustine’s City of God is largely a treatise on how Christians might engage this political-economic tension. From the East, at both a geographical and epochal crossroads for the church, John Chrysostom’s sermons provide an economic vision for wealth and poverty when the ruling authority is God:

For our money is the Lord’s however we may have gathered it. If we provide for those in need, we shall obtain great plenty. This is why God has allowed you to have more: not for you to waste on prostitutes, drink, fancy food, expensive clothes, and all other kinds of indolence, but for you to distribute to those in need. Just as an official in the imperial treasury, if he neglects to distribute where he is ordered, but spends instead on his own indolence, pays the penalty and is put to death, so also the rich man is a kind of steward of the money which is owed for distribution to the poor.8

Basil the Great, who shared John Chrysostom’s conviction that holding great wealth while refusing to share with those in need was a form of stealing, established an institution to aid those who suffered from the drought and famine of 369. The painting of St. Francis kneeling before Pope Innocent III by Giotto de Bondone immortalizes economic tensions of power and authority within the church.9 In each and every context churches are confronted with a tension present among various spirits proclaiming life, whether a spirit of victory aligned with the Roman Empire, a spirit of civilizing mission throughout the colonial period, or a spirit of progress present within modernity.

Amidst the colonial scramble for Africa, particularly between 1876 and 1914, missionaries often faced an incredible tension between securely-funded promotion of a state-supporting gospel, or an economy of grace, love, and hope that served as a direct contrast to the colonial economic spirit that funded the mission. Numerous histories reveal churches standing against national institutional racism, churches standing for women’s equal rights, churches providing a safe haven for refugees, all because of an embodied economy that values the life and dignity of those crying out against the powers of death. The significant point is not simply that churches have aligned themselves with a particular human rights agenda, but that in situations where human life has been devalued, prophetic churches have identified an alternative vision consistent with the basic principles of a prophetic Christ-shaped economic participation in the Spirit of Life outlined above.

In each of these historical examples, Christian participation in the mission of God as an economic enterprise is not marked by a simple opposition to any given economic system, but by a positive exercise of power consistent with the work of the Holy Spirit. Power in the Spirit of God is distinct, holy, because it is creative and inspiring, giving fresh breath to those struggling with the greatest burdens and those facing the powers and cycles of death. Power of the Holy Spirit does not and cannot justify economic surplus built on the backs of the poor. Rather, divine power values the least of these, is manifest particularly through justice and charity for the poor, the sick, the rejected, and the outcast, and essentially stands against powers of domination in any form. Power is defined in ever expanding circles of influence that seek coherence among life for the individual in relation to family, neighbor, community, and world. The power of the Holy Spirit is about the life of the world that begins with reconciliation with the person in closest proximity.

Max Weber, the prominent sociologist and economist of the early 1900s, identified development of the “Spirit of Capitalism” with what he identified as a “Protestant Ethic.”10 In this work, Weber connects Protestant values of personal piety, a rising individualism, and personal responsibility of saving with increasing capital needed for the social structure of a capitalist economy. One of the values in Weber’s work lies in the simple suggestion that there is a “spirit” of economic systems. I propose that a central question of missional theology is how the spirit of any economic system stands in relation to the Spirit of God. Is the driving spirit of an economy one of competition or mutual fulfillment? Is it a spirit of love or a spirit of conquest? Is it a spirit that justifies collateral damage or a spirit that runs to those thrown to the side of the road? Our ultimate question as confessing Christians in the conversation of mission and economy is whether or not the Spirit that drives us is conforming us and those with whom we interact, trade, exchange to the image of Jesus Christ.

Christian mission, as it participates in the mission of God, forever lives in the economic tensions that demand discernment. Economic order is power. To learn from church complicity in oppressive regimes, colonial oppression, and nationalist domination means a continuous discernment on the part of the Christian body as to what will be resisted and what will be condoned through partnerships.

Mission for the Church Today

How is the Holy Spirit shaping relationships into conformity with the life of Christ in the midst of global capitalism? Again, to speak of the good news it is helpful to identify the bad news, the fractures, the sites of dislocation and relational brokenness among elements of creation that God has declared good. This is why mission as an economic enterprise is committed to social action—not because we as the church envision ourselves as a political or economic outlier able to act as an a-political unit. It is furthermore not because we as Christian missionaries, ministers, practitioners, and scholars will bring about the kingdom through our own action, as if we are the gods who speak light into the darkness and bring order from chaos. Missional theology is an economic enterprise because we are empowered and invited to participate in the cruciform and resurrection life that dives into individual and systemic processes of valuation and devaluation, pronouncing good the earth that has been exploited, the water that has been polluted, and the human lives that have been used as objects and means for economic gain.

If there is a connection between conceptions of mission and economic practice, the church cannot avoid dealing with the fractures within global capitalism. Mission is entwined in seeking out relational fractures and embodying life and good news in these places. Holy mission is conformity into the image of Christ in our particular places where individual benefit and competition has become a primary lens, where the virtues of love, faithfulness, and hope have been replaced by contractual deals that favor the wealthy and the powerful. Mission therefore turns attention to the housing crisis, the water crisis, the food crisis, the healthcare crisis, and the crisis of for-profit prisons. Mission is an economic enterprise consumed by the hungry, the homeless, the sick, and the imprisoned as much today as it was when Jesus declared in Matthew 25 that service to these groups is service to Christ.

Therefore missional theology does what it does best when located at the margins—the geographical margins at the edges of the economic empire. These margins consist of rural African villages, the border deserts in southwestern US, and the inner city barrios and slums. Missional economies work in the currency of love and justice with the given materials of a particular context. And missional economies are attuned to voices of those struggling for daily bread and water, speaking prophetic words of truth into our world. We therefore participate in God’s mission when we receive the prophetic words of hope that we too might be saved from exploits of competitive conquest, and that we too might live into an economy marked by justice, grace, and mutual flourishing.

Spencer is the Director of Program at The Water Project, and lives with his wife and two sons in Henniker, New Hampshire. Spencer was a missionary in the Busoga region of Uganda from 2004 until 2010 and holds a PhD in theology from Southern Methodist University.

1 I am borrowing the phrase “eccentric existence” from the title of David Kelsey’s two-volume work on theological anthropology. See David Kelsey, Eccentric Existence, vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2009). Kelsey presents the correlative possibility for humanity to be postured toward the other like God, while maintaining the distinctions between God and creation: “Correlatively, as an enactment ad extra of the giving and receiving that constitute the triune God’s own life, God’s creative relating to reality other than God is a giving that is also at once God’s invitation to realities other than God to respond to God in ways that are appropriate to the manner in which God has related to them and God’s self opening to receive their response” (123).

2 Wendell Berry, “Two Economies,” in Home Economics (San Francisco: North Point, 1987).

3 Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, ed. Knud Haakonssen, Cambridge Text in the History of Philosphy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).

4 See M. Douglas Meeks, God The Economist: The Doctrine of God and Political Economy (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989); D. Stephen Long, Divine Economy: Theology and the Market, Radical Orthodoxy (New York: Routledge, 2000); and William Cavanaugh, Being Consumed: Economics and Christian Desire (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), for just a few examples of this turn.

5 Abraham J. Heschel, The Prophets, Perennial Classics (New York: Harper, 2001), 7.

6 Whereas it may make sense to talk about politics, economics, and religion as separate spheres now, in the biblical writings and throughout most of Christian history (and even currently in much of the world outside of the United States and Europe) political, economic, and religious aspects of life are so enmeshed and intertwined that to talk of one distinct from the others is incoherent and often inconceivable.

7 Joerg Rieger, Christ and Empire: From Paul to Postcolonial Times (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 31.

8 John Chrysostom, On Wealth and Poverty, trans. Catharine P. Roth (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984), 50.

9 See Douglas John Hall, The Cross in our Context: Jesus and the Suffering World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 74.

10 Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, rev. 1920 ed., trans. Stephen Kalberg (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).

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Losing Our Religion: The Legacy of Mission Journal

Beginning publication in 1967, Mission was envisioned as “a journal of controversy” that would challenge the post-war rationalistic approach to theology that had developed within Churches of Christ in the 1950s and 1960s. With a younger, more worldly audience in mind, Mission operated at the intersection of Restoration theology, social evolution, and cultural diversity by addressing “grinding human needs” related to equity, poverty, peace, and political trust. Negative reactions to Mission’s direction highlighted the transition of Churches of Christ from a radical sect to a mainstream American religious institution. This process included a renewed appreciation for fundamentalism by conservative church leaders and the conflation of the political left with their theological opponents. In response to such criticisms, Mission turned from its original commitments to the “weightier matters” of social justice and instead exhausted its energies detailing more mainstream theological subjects.

In Mission’s September 1986 issue, public relations consultant and early Mission contributor, Walter E. Burch, reflected on what he called the journal’s “20-year odyssey.” Thinking out loud, he wondered how best to measure the importance of the publication’s voice within the Churches of Christ. Had Mission significantly influenced the fellowship? And if so, how? Had Mission advanced its proposals in a responsible manner? Was there enough depth to Mission’s original themes to sustain the enterprise? Should Mission itself become part of the mainstream institutional apparatus within the Churches of Christ?1

Unfortunately, with the publication of Mission’s final issue coming just fifteen months later, the opportunity for such a self-appraisal would not be fully realized. Still, for scholars, analysts, and other interested parties, Burch’s thoughts provide a practical framework through which to assess Mission’s legacy, especially regarding the sustainability of the journal’s initial features. While discussions touching on race relations, social justice, the anti-war movement, and political ideology received extensive coverage during Mission’s first several years, attention eventually shifted toward more traditional theological subjects and away from the “grinding human needs” of equality, poverty relief, world peace, and political trust.2

The apogee (or nadir, depending on one’s perspective) of Mission’s venture into questions surrounding such sociopolitical affairs was its March 1974 edition—“On Watergate.” The issue included a cover page editorial cartoon highlighting the personal corruption of Richard Nixon and that of his administration.

Figure 1: Cover of Mission (March 1974)

Perry C. Cotham, political science professor at David Lipscomb College (now Lipscomb University), referred to June 17, 1972—the date of the Watergate burglary—as possibly the “date of the death of both American public idealism and unwavering faith in her public institutions and officials.” Arguing that there was an inherent logical relationship between political action and its resulting moral implications, he encouraged Mission’s readers to “place [the Watergate] crisis in the context of genuine Biblical morality.” Cotham criticized both the Churches of Christ for the absence of such discussions in the fellowship’s publications and Nixon for moralizing on issues such as “faith, trust, belief, and spirit” that emphasized “pietism” over “Christian social ethics.” Worried that an uncritical reception of Nixon’s ‘theology’ by many Christians was “ ‘rendering unto Caesar’ more than [was] his due,” Cotham called for both a private morality (piety) and a public one (social ethics). He concluded, “Christian ethics are essentially social ethics—one cannot truly be in right relationship to God unless he is in right relationship to his fellowman.”3

Reader response was sharp. Thomas Langford, former Mission contributor, described the March cover as “tasteless,” “offensive,” and a violation of New Testament teachings about the relationship between the Christian and the government. While acknowledging that censure of Nixon’s behavior was warranted, Langford considered the issue’s cover to be “beneath the dignity” of what he called “redemptive Christian judgment.” One outspoken reader denied that the Nixon administration’s activities were “more sinister than anything previously encountered in this country” and chastised Cotham for going “to tasteless extremes to buttress [his] untenable position.” Still another, accusing Mission’s editors of participating in “a dishonest charade,” expressed grief “that [Mission] felt called upon to unleash [its] liberal political philosophy” on its diverse readership. Reflecting on first-century Christianity in a manner typically associated with twentieth-century restoration theology, one reader countered: “My gut level reaction to the whole political content of the issue is that we have come a long way, baby, since the time when Christians could fear God and honor the king—even when the king was Nero (or Nixon?).” Finally, one complained that she had just renewed her subscription for three years to what amounted to a “political propaganda sheet”—“We get that everywhere we turn, but we look to Mission for a change, for encouragement, to learn more about Jesus and to draw closer to God.”4

While the number of subscriptions to Mission had grown to over 3,000 by the end of its first year of publication and had risen steadily thereafter, the March 1974 issue would permanently marginalize the paper, beginning with an immediate decline in readership. Such a “negative response,” according to Robert Randolph, “indicated the shape of political sentiment in Churches of Christ.” While conservatives at large had never developed a significant taste for social justice, even progressive leaders had seemed to lose interest. Both had made themselves at home in an American subculture defined by conservative politics and a rejection of avant-garde activism. To survive in this prevailing environment, Mission turned aside from its roots of aggressive social commentary and instead focused on matters relating to so-called “Christian journalism.”5

These sorts of expectations for a more conventional approach to political theology would continue to gain traction within the fellowship in the years that followed. For example, two decades after the publication of Mission’s final issue, Church of Christ minister David A. Hester in his book Tampering with Truth: The New Left in the Lord’s Church6 argued for the favored status of conservative partisan politics within the Churches of Christ. While not representing a genuine theological cross-section of twenty-first-century thinking among the Churches of Christ, Hester’s approach nevertheless illustrates the influence that right-wing politics has held on the fellowship, especially in the American South.

Specifically, Hester linked leaders of what he called the “New Left” in the fellowship with the “extreme radical causes” of those on the political Left who had come of age in the 1960s. By conflating the two groups, he blurred the lines between theological matters and social ones, highlighting the extent to which many in the Churches of Christ had come to equate conservative politics with theological orthodoxy. Hester expressed this explicitly by describing what he saw as the uncanny resemblance between American political liberals and their theological counterparts in the Churches of Christ. In the process, he cataloged rather precise policy positions he deemed inappropriate for the faithful American Christian—opposition to the Vietnam War and support of black nationalism a generation earlier, as well as contemporary perspectives favoring more progressive social and economic policies than those that had been championed during the Reagan administration.7

Hester’s quarrel with “the New Left” extended to its historiography as well. He charged liberal scholars with practicing what he described as “revisionist history”—a supposed reinterpretation of the past in support of a so-called radical agenda. In the process, he also lauded conservative attempts to simply record, as he put it, “what actually happened.” His analysis revealed the incongruity of a conservative rejection of serious self-reflection within the Churches of Christ and Mission’s desire to create a culture of relevance in the fellowship by reassessing Scripture in view of ever-changing cultural dynamics.8

This friction is detected in Hester’s contempt for what he believed the Sixties had come to symbolize—namely, a departure from traditional civic and religious values. For example, he derided the attention given to the decade by historian Richard Hughes in Reviving the Ancient Faith: The Story of Churches of Christ in America.9 “In his 448-page work, Hughes devoted three chapters to the decade of the 1960s!,” Hester complained. In criticizing even the title of the monograph, Hester wryly observed that Hughes had in fact done “the brotherhood an unwitting service” by chronicling its “history of radicalism.”10

However, it was not only conservative church leaders who had rejected such progressive social values. Ironically, even less conventional leaders left the task of Mission behind, as the Churches of Christ prepared to advance into the twenty-first century. For instance, while acknowledging the role of the Churches of Christ in helping to alleviate social challenges in American communities, C. Leonard Allen, Richard Hughes, and Michael Weed in The Worldly Church: A Call for Biblical Renewal expressed concern that “meeting contemporary ‘needs’ ha[d] all but crowded out biblical theology.”11 While Mission had encouraged direct political involvement as a means of accomplishing important theological ends, Allen, Hughes, and Weed, while reflecting fondly on an earlier “radical sectarianism,” warned about the development of “political activism [as] the vital center of Christian faith.”12

Similarly, Mission’s own trustees ultimately exchanged the journal’s original philosophy for temporary survival in a fellowship that had grown comfortable with its place in mainstream American culture. While perceived by its critics as merely an outlet for the “disloyal opposition,” Mission had imposed self-limitations as well, as it evolved from “a journal of controversy” to a publication focused on more customary theological issues.13 Eventually, in announcing Mission’s demise, board president Robert Randolph summarized the periodical’s quixotic struggle to help focus the Churches of Christ on the “weightier matters” envisioned by its original contributors: “The energy for Mission came out of a time of ferment and change. The situation today is different. Things have changed in Churches of Christ and we recognize that much more needs to change. The history of Mission seems to be baggage that hinders us from being part of that change. The initial impulse may well have spent itself in a righteous cause, but it has spent itself nevertheless.”14

While appraising Mission’s legacy, Walter Burch echoed Randolph’s sentiments by describing the cultural environment of the late 1960s as an era of “crisis and promise, of frustration and courage, of ferment and seething discontent, of protest and intransigence.” The notions of crisis and promise also characterized the work of Mission itself. Although the journal had failed to substantially alter the ethos of twentieth-century Churches of Christ, it had rightly called attention to the distinction between missions and mission, as it scrutinized the church’s function in the world at large. Likewise, present-day Churches of Christ find themselves in a time of “frustration” and “discontent,” but with a missional opportunity—to be a fresh, raw voice for faith, good news, optimism, and a healthy restlessness. And the stakes could not be higher. In the words of twentieth-century Swiss theologian Emil Brunner, a favorite of Burch’s: “Where there is no mission, there is no Church; and where there is neither Church nor mission, there is no faith.”15

Brad McKinnon is Associate Professor of History and Christian Ministry at Heritage Christian University (Florence, Alabama). He is contributor to Reconciliation Reconsidered: Advancing the National Conversation on Race in Churches of Christ (ACU Press, 2016) and the George Washington Digital Encyclopedia (http://www.mountvernon.org/digital-encyclopedia).

Adapted from a presentation at the Thomas H. Olbricht Christian Scholars’ Conference, Lipscomb University, Nashville, TN, June 8–10, 2016.

1 Walter E. Burch, “The Birth of Mission: Remembering the Way We Were,” Mission 20, no. 3 (September 1986): 10–11, 22.

2 Ibid., 10.

3 Perry C. Cotham, “Crisis in American Politics: Reflections on Watergate and the Rest of the Iceberg,” Mission 7, no. 9 (March 1974): 5–6, 11–12, 15.

4 “Forum,” Mission 8, no. 2 (Aug 1974): 28–30.

5 Robert M. Randolph, “Mission,” in The Encyclopedia of the Stone-Campbell Movement, ed. Douglas A. Foster, et al. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 533; “Forum,” 29.

6 David A. Hester, Tampering with Truth: The New Left in the Lord’s Church (Huntsville, AL: Publishing Designs, 2007).

7 Ibid., 6, 14–15.

8 Ibid., 89–90.

9 Richard T. Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith: The Story of Churches of Christ in America (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996).

10 Hester, 89–90.

11 C. Leonard Allen, Richard T. Hughes, and Michael R. Weed, The Worldly Church: A Call for Biblical Renewal (Abilene: Abilene Christian University Press, 1996): 8.

12 Ibid, 15.

13 “Focus Group Analysis of Current Condition of Mission Journal,” Walter E. Burch Papers, 1956–2006, Center for Restoration Studies, Brown Library, Abilene Christian University.

14 Robert M. Randolph, “To the Readers of Mission Journal,” Mission 21, nos. 5 & 6 (Dec 1987/Jan 1988): 43.

15 Emil Brunner, The Word and the World (London: Student Christian Movement Press, 1931): 108; quoted in Burch, 10.

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Of Gadflies and Grace: Inheriting the Legacy of Mission Journal (Editorial Preface to the Issue)

In the 1960s Churches of Christ largely resisted the kind of renewal that Mission sought to achieve, thereby relegating Mission to the status of gadfly to the mainstream tradition. –Richard Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith1

Missiology acts as a gadfly in the house of theology, creating unrest and resisting complacency, opposing every ecclesiastical impulse to self-preservation, every desire to stay what we are, every inclination toward provincialism and parochialism, every fragmentation of humanity into regional or ideological blocs, every exploitation of some sectors of humanity by the powerful, every religious, ideological, or cultural imperialism, and every exaltation of the self-sufficiency of the individual over other people or over other parts of creation. –David Bosch, Transforming Mission2

At the 2017 Christian Scholars Conference,3 the Missio Dei Foundation (which publishes Missio Dei) hosted a celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of Mission journal. Mission was a leading voice during a period of renewal and reform among Churches of Christ beginning in the 1960s. It ran for twenty years, from 1967 to 1988, insisting all the while that Churches of Christ confront issues such as race, war, poverty, and gender, as well as the tradition’s hermeneutical limitations. Richard Hughes says that in this role Mission was a gadfly. For Hughes, himself a former editor of Mission, the journal was relegated to this status, meaning it was a mere nuisance for most. I suggest, however, that gadfly is the way we should positively construe of the legacy of Mission.

The mission of God is an irritant and a goad to the theology of complacent, compromised, conflicted churches. It vexes us all. Mission’s name was more than a coincidence in this regard. It was not a missiological journal in the conventional sense. Yet, its broadly operative idea of mission was, in retrospect, astonishingly analogous to the move Lesslie Newbigin would later make by construing the Western church’s existence at home as mission. Although the roots of the missional movement run into sources contemporary with Mission’s genesis in the late 1960s, there is no evidence that those ecumenical discussions shaped the selection of the journal’s title. Rather, it seems to me, the name Mission represented an intuition native to Churches of Christ and, more broadly, the Stone-Campbell Movement—that mission is what the church is about everywhere and always. Furthermore, it was the most fitting name for a publication meant to challenge and renew that tradition’s engagement with culture. Perhaps the instigators of Mission did not wish to be relegated to the status of a household pest, but they certainly seemed to understand that the church needed to be bothered about mission. Though this impulse does not comprehend all of the theological reorientation that missional theology entails in the early twenty-first century, it is nonetheless a rich inheritance.

As I have reflected on Mission this year, a question has crystallized: Where is that intuition and impulse among Churches of Christ today? Where is the voice that speaks risky, uncomfortable truth in the house of Churches of Christ theology? Has what Don Haymes called “the silence of the scholars” become deafening in the end?4 What have we done with the legacy of Mission? If this is a prodigal story and the inheritance has been squandered, there is hope for a homecoming, but I wonder whether the story will take that turn. I know that I am not the only one wondering. In the midst of the longest war in US history, the political capitalization of xenophobia, the most complicated public discourse on gender and sexuality that our culture has ever faced, and the heartbreakingly persistent need for black Americans to insist that their lives matter, Churches of Christ seem deathly quiet. Reading Mission, I find hope in the realization that the silence was broken once. It can be again. But what has become of this legacy of courageous theological leadership, and who will retrieve it?

Undoubtedly, we ask the question today in a different ecosystem.5 Mission’s run coincided with the end of the era in which print publications could make sense of the idea that the Stone-Campbell Movement had editor-bishops.6 The oikonomia of the Churches of Christ household has changed. Perhaps it is vain to look for theological leadership in the voices of edited publications rather than in disparate blogs and podcasts and (God save us) tweets. Despite the retrieval work that has marked the last forty years of Churches of Christ scholarship, and despite the emergent clarity that we are a tradition, the identity of the tradition is arguably the most diffuse it has been since the beginning of the Restoration Movement. To ask what we should do with the legacy of Mission requires that we answer just who inherits it in the first place.

This too is a theological question, and missiology insists, in Bosch’s voice, that the answer reject “every inclination toward provincialism and parochialism.” Scholars like Yukikazu Obata and Paul Chimhungwe are telling us not only who we have been but who we are. Practitioner-theologians like Steven Hovater, Ron Clark, and Spencer Bogle are showing us who we can become. If the prodigal does not come home to a single oikonomia, we find instead manifold “economies of grace,”7 a multiplied inheritance to which no older brother can lay claim. Yes, from one perspective, the identity of Churches of Christ is more diffuse than ever. But diffusion is not dissolution, and from another perspective, the tradition’s grassroots ecclesiology has finally gone to seed. Missiology, taking the latter perspective, pushes us toward a polycentric discourse in which diverse communities of grace may inherit the legacy of Mission and speak the truths we all need to hear. This is at once the realization of the renewal that Mission sought and the only way forward in that quest. Here is the promise of hermeneutical, social, ethical, political—in a word, theological—revival for Churches of Christ. May the gadfly become a swarm. God give us the grace of unrest.

Help Us Digitize Mission

If you’re itching to read some of those old Mission articles, you’re not alone. They should be available to everyone, freely and digitally. Of course, that requires scanning and formatting each page, web hosting, and archive administration—none of which is free.

The good news is that the Missio Dei Foundation and the Abilene Christian University Center for Restoration Studies are teaming up to digitize Mission and create an archive of related resources. It will be hosted here: http://digitalcommons.acu.edu/missionjournal. You can already find a few great additions to the archive, like Bob Turner’s Mission: An Oral History. But the critical work of digitizing Mission needs funding! We’ve projected that $4000 will cover the cost of scanning and formatting the journal’s entire run. Please help us make the complete digital archive freely available online. You can make secure donations to the cause at our Generosity fundraiser page.

Or, if you prefer to donate directly to the ACU Center for Restoration Studies:

  • Make checks payable to ACU Library
  • Put “Mission digitization project” on the memo line
  • Mail to:

    McGarvey Ice

    Abilene Christian University Library

    ACU Box 29208

    Abilene, TX 79699-9208

For more information, email Greg McKinzie at missiodeijournal@gmail.com.

Soli Deo gloria.

1 Richard T. Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith: The Story of Churches of Christ in America (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 372.

2 David J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission, American Society of Missiology Series 16 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991), 596.

3 See https://lipscomb.edu/csc for details about CSC.

4 Don Haymes, “The Silence of the Scholars” Mission 8, no. 3. (1974): 70–85.

5 On the relationships between ecosystem, oikonomia, and economy in what follows, see P. Kent Smith, “Ecosystems of Grace: An Old Vision for the New Church,” Missio Dei: A Journal of Missional Theology and Praxis 7 (Summer–Fall 2016), http://missiodeijournal.com/issues/md-7/authors/md-7-smith; P. Kent Smith, “Economy of Grace: An Early Christian Take on Vulnerable Mission,” Missio Dei: A Journal of Missional Theology and Praxis 4, no. 1 (February 2013), http://missiodeijournal.com/issues/md-4-1/authors/md-4-1-smith.

6 See William Thomas Moore, A Comprehensive History of the Disciples of Christ: Being an account of a century’s effort to restore primitive Christianity in its Faith, Doctrine, and Life, Kindle ed. (SCM e-Prints, 2012 [New York: Fleming H. Revell Co., 1909]), Kindle locs. 10096–98. Moore stated that “The editors of these magazines and papers came to be practically general bishops, and exercised nearly as much power as the bishops do in some of the religious denominations.” Cf. the fascinating gloss of this claim in Gary Holloway and Douglas A. Foster, Renewing God’s People: A Concise History of Churches of Christ (Abilene: ACU Press, 2001), 67: “An old truism is that Disciples did not have bishops but had editors who sometimes ruled with an iron fist.”

7 See Smith, “Economy of Grace.”