A little more history

(Part two of "Why a Baptist boy became Presbyterian")

Where it all began for me  -
FIrst Baptist Church,
Cartersville, Georgia

The truth is...there were several other theological and ecclesiastical wanderings between the church of my youth and the church of my present. 



The post-Southern Baptist period actually began when I was drafted into the army.  Without going into the details here, I'll just say that for the first time in my heretofore parochial life, I met real Christians from a vast variety of denominational backgrounds.  I also met some not-so-impressive individuals claiming to be Baptists (or whatever).  It probably destroyed my categories forever.  During the next twenty or so years I wandered in and out of various faith groups, mostly non-denominational and charismatic.

As far as doctrine and Biblical interpetation went, these groups were still of the more or less "do-it-yourself" variety, just what I had been trained to expect and admire in my Southern Baptist upbringing.  Although sincere and Bible-believing, none of these groups put a lot of stock in "formal" study.  I remember hearing the phrase "systematic theology" a few times and wondering what it meant, but no one else seemed interested. 

Two peculiar incidents stand out among the myriad of spiritual experiences I had during those years.  The first was stumbling across the writings of Francis Schaeffer while I was in the army.  I knew he was "on to something" (Little did I realize at the time that he was a PCA member), but I could not find anyone else who was as much energized by his writings as I was.  Lacking anyone to discuss him with, I relegated him and his thinking to the "curiosity" category, and went on reading the "inspirational" writers that my leaders were promoting.


Sullivan Barracks Chapel,
Mannheim, Germany

The second peculiarity was a Bible study in our military chapel that did a bad job of exegeting certain Bible passages to support a conclusion that contradicts "perseverance of the saints."  Of course, I didn't know that phrase as point five of Calvinism at the time, but when Calvinism was finally explained to me many years later, I immediately dismissed any serious consideration because of that one night of bad teaching.

In the midst of busy and (mostly) pleasant church life during these years, there was always the sneaking suspicion in the back of my mind that I might be missing something.  So steeped was I in Baptist "Separatism" and charismatic "spiritual superiority," however,  that I was quite sure that if there were more to the thoughtful Christian life, it could not be found in one of those older denominations.  Those churches, we had resolutely written off as "dead" and beyond hope of resuscitation.

The wild card in this saga of "protectionism" against historic Christianity was the fact that I was engaged in Christian education throughout these years.  While most of the Christian schooling world's thought and ethos during the seventies and eighties was guided by Baptist thinking and principles, there were lots of co-belligerants from other theological backgrounds (even we charismatics had to be careful around the strictest Baptist educators to avoid being stigmatized).  After all, we had plenty of common enemies - the World Council of Churches, political and religious liberals, Biblical modernists, etc.  In fact, with all this in common we generally got along quite well - we charismatics, Nazarenes, Baptists, Assemblies of God types, and non-denominational Bible churchers.

 At some point during this period of time I encountered those "Dutch Reformed" schools who were members of Christian Schools International.  I remember thinking it was peculiar that members of that association had to sign a statement of faith that was slightly different from the standard "evangelical" statement of faith that most Christian schools, missionary groups, and para-church ministries always use to position themselves theologically.  The CSI statement of faith actually used the word "Calvinism" in its requirements, something I regarded as quite odd as a basis or test of doctrinal orthodoxy.  And because of the prior army experience, I believed it was something I couldn't agree to.   So I just put it (and their schools) out of my mind.

Enter the classical Christian education movement.  In 1991, while a graduate student at University of Arizona, I was reading every book on education that I could find.  Somewhere I got hold of the recently published Recovering the Lost Tools of Learning by Douglas Wilson.  When I was about halfway through the book, I looked up at my wife Linda and said, "Because of this book, I will never teach the same again!"  At the end of the book was the statement, "For more information and materials about classical Christian education, call this number."

I rushed to dial the number on the last page of the book, and imagine my surprise when the voice at the other end of the line said, "This is Doug Wilson."  "Well," I said, "I just finished your book and I'm calling for more information and materials."  After a chuckle at the other end, I figured out that I may have been the first one to call.  "When we put that statement in there," Wilson explained, "We were thinking way off in the future."  We don't really have anything to offer you right now..." he went on.  Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "...except maybe a subscription to our church magazine.  How about that?"   "Sure,"  I replied without much enthusiasm - or expectation.  Little did I know how much this would change my life.

After the first three issues, I came to several conclusions about the magazine, Credenda Agenda, and the church, Community Evangelical Fellowship of Moscow, Idaho (now known as Christ Church).

1. These people were not "stealth Calvinists," or "Cradle Calvinists;" they were "cage stage" Calvinists with an agenda!

2.  These people had read all the authors I had thought about, but never read.

3.  These people spoke about theology in a manner that made it really matter - and I felt terribly inadequate.

The arrival of each issue provoked a "love/hate" response in me.  On the one side, one is always tempted to feel that anyone who knows more than you do must, of necessity, be arrogant.  But I knew better.  There was not an ounce of condescension in what they wrote.  Well, maybe some well-deserved ridicule of evangelical silliness, when appropriate.  But not nearly the kind of condescension I found daily in the charismatic groups toward those poor souls who were not "walking in the fulness of the spirit."

But I was steadily drawn in by the sound reasoning, the fearless approach to topics I had never heard discussed in Christian circles, and the broad references to a whole host of books I now realized I needed to know more about.  I decided I needed help at this point.

Knowing I couldn't turn to the leaders of my own church and expect them to actually look at and evaluate reading matter that wasn't "Spriit-filled," I turned to two close colleagues in Christian education, Wade and Brad.  Both were Christian school principals of schools sponsored by charismatic churches, just like me.  Two other things we had in common - we liked to read, and none of us had any formal Bible or theology education.  We lived in Safford, Sierra Vista, and Yuma, so most of our visiting had to be by phone. 

The arrival of each issue prompted a flurry of phone calls.  The issue that (not so well from our point of view) critiqued the charismatic movement came under particular scrutiny by us.  But after months of puzzling, railing, and helping each other understand what we were reading, I remember the day when one of us said, "You know, I'm starting to buy into this."  The other two were immediately relieved, because they, too, had been thinking the same way.  Down the road, we three took several trips to Moscow.  Now Wade owns a house there, his children were baptised at Christ Church, and Brad and I are both PCA elders.  All from one magazine!

How did the magazine do that to me?  Here are a few observations:

1.  I read the foot notes.  They led me to sources like Calvin's Institutes, the Spurgeon archives, Martin Luther's writings, the Westminster Catechism, and contemporary authors like Sproul and Piper.

2.  I realized the necessity of systematic theology.  All the "odd" passages of scripture that I had previously written off as "difficult," now had a context in which to fit.  The Confessions of the Reformation have stood the test of time and intense scrutiny.   

3.  I realized the centrality of the sovereignty of God.  Non-Reformed evangelicals may think they believe God is sovereign, but they are not consistent.  When I came to understand God's sovereignty, all my philosophical questions fell into place.

4.  I wanted to be connected to church history.  Reading the documents of the Reformation, and the history that produced them, gave me a "place" in history and a grasp of the "big picture." 

5.  I found the fellowship of kindred minds.  Whereas I had previously felt oddly disconnected among many evangelicals, I had now found the people who loved Francis Schaeffer (for example), and weren't shy to talk about his writings.

Remember my concern about Bible studies in which we pooled our ignorance?  Now I can (as one Reformed pastor puts it) wake up in the morning remembering what I believe!

So there's your answer, brother Rags.  Next question?