What is the basis for fellowship within the community of faith? In reflecting on this theme our mind was recently drawn to two experiences from past pastoral ministry.
For a number of years it was our privilege to serve a church in the Midwest that yet brings pleasant memories to mind. The congregation was committed to biblical values; the people were united; and during our tenure there the church experienced growth.
The one difficulty derived from the church's affiliation with a "main line" denomination that having once been a leading voice for the faith had in many ways now become, as have various others of similar background, an agency for radical liberalism. (Those following the religious news scene will recall some three hundred churches of this organization that recently withdrew over these concerns in one western state alone.) The struggle on this level was not easy.
One Monday during this time a neighboring pastor called. He and his congregation, while quite evangelical, were of another identity and on some doctrinal points, of alternate understanding. Knowing the situation with which we and our congregation were faced he stated, "I just thought you might like to know that we had special prayer for you and your congregation in yesterday morning's worship service." Reflecting on this gesture of Christian love and oneness, I found myself more than a little moved. (Both we and the church eventually withdrew from the denomination.)
One other experience: Our first pastorate was of a charge that, much in contrast to the one just mentioned, was known as a "problem" church. Doctrinally sound, and of a doctrinally sound background, it nonetheless had the reputation of being a "preacher killer." Indeed, our predecessor resigned after two and one half months.
We gave it our all. Whereas our predecessor had lasted two and one half months, we resigned some two and a half years later. Seldom, if ever, have I undergone a more difficult experience than seeing my wife sit beside me in the car and weep on the way home.
Once again, we received a phone call a few days later. It was the local Catholic priest asking to take us out to dinner. At a very nice dining establishment built out over the lake he explained his reason for having requested the evening with us. First of all, he stated, he was well aware of what we had been through. Second, he wanted to do anything he could to keep us from becoming discouraged to the point of leaving the ministry.
Were we Catholic? Obviously not. Were we prospects for becoming Catholic? It was the furthest thing from anyone's mind. What transpired that evening was an expression of Christian love for a hurting couple striving to serve the Lord.
Paul notes an experience of perhaps somewhat similar - even if on a more intensified level - nature in his second epistle to Timothy: "The Lord grant mercy to the house of Onesiphorus for he often refreshed me, and was not ashamed of my chains; but when he was in Rome, he eagerly searched for me, and found me - the Lord grant to him to find mercy from the Lord on that day - and you know very well what services he rendered at Ephesus" (II Tim. 1:16).
While there is much concerning that day wherein we shall all stand before the Almighty of which we are not yet fully apprised, perhaps we shall then, in light of what it all ultimately meant, have opportunity to again thank these two men. Simply stated, God has sons and daughters other than just those within the parameters of our own limited ecclesial constructs.
Burl Ratzsch
