New Work: Delmarva Reformed Presbyterian Fellowship

 

       Do you live in or near Salisbury, MD? Want to be part of a new church plant in the fastest growing city in Maryland?

 

The Delmarva Reformed Presbyterian Fellowship has recently started holding services every Sunday at 2 PM in Salisbury, MD. Interested? Contact Rev John Edgar at johnevniki@comcast.net or Esther Nicholson at enicholson1031@gmail.com for more info, or see their Facebook page.

 

Reformed Christian Theology; Presbyterian Church Government. A Capella Psalm Singing.

Adherence to the Westminster Confession of Faith and Catechisms.

Simple. Reverent. Worship.

 

Do you know anyone in that area (Look at a map before you say “Uh, no...”) who would benefit from knowing about a Reformed and Presbyterian worship service? Tell them!

Hospitality to Strangers: Picture of Adoption

 

          When a stranger enters your house, eats your food, and maybe sleeps in one of your beds, you have adopted him for a short while. In other words, you treat him as though he were part of your family. You talk. He gets to know you a little, and you get to know him a little. Maybe he joins you in family worship. Who needs hospitality? Someone with no home, at least for the night. (See A Little Strength 3.3 and 3.4 for earlier articles about hospitality and 5.3 about adoption.)

 

God has adopted us, not for a short while, but for eternity. All believers were once strangers from the household of God, but now in Christ we have been adopted. We have the right to pray to God as “Father,” and he tells us to imitate him. How? One way is by adopting strangers, even for a little while. God actually tells us to be hospitable in this way. “Remember to welcome strangers into your homes. There were some who did that and welcomed angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13:2).” God gives this command to all believers, young and old, new and mature, rich and poor, brave and fearful, extrovert and introvert, preacher and parishoner.

 

There are other kinds of hospitality besides hospitality to strangers. There is hospitality to friends at church or from the neighborhood or earlier friends or acquaintances coming through town who need a place to stay. There is the hospitality of having someone else, or even a family, live in your house for months or years at a time. The Christian church should be full of such hospitalities, all topics to be addressed at another time. But for now, the topic is hospitality to strangers.

 

Here are some of our opportunities to show hospitality to strangers. You have had yours. There was a cold call late at night from a young couple, the man’s name being Angel with his pregnant wife Cricket (hospitality to angels!); a case of double mistaken identity; an intruder at 2:00 a.m. who broke down our back door; and a scared young woman from Ukraine living in a foreign country.

 

The Cold Call: Angel and Cricket, 1990

About 8:30 on a Thursday night the phone rang. I picked it up. A scared young woman said that she and her husband had driven across the country from Los Angeles in three days and now their car had broken down. “Can you help us?” I asked her, “Where are you?” She told me. “How did you get my name and phone number?” She said from the phone book. In those days churches usually had a presence in the “Yellow Pages” with the phone number of the pastor.

 

They weren’t far. I went to pick them up. Here is their story. Angel, pronounced the Spanish way, had been dramatically converted from gang life. He was 20 years old. His pregnant wife named Cricket – they had two memorable names – was 19. As new Christians they had been almost immediately sent out on the fundamentalist testimony circuit. Their next stop after Philadelphia was somewhere in Florida. And now their car had problems.

 

We gave them the foldout bed in the living room of our four-bedroom twin house. In the morning, I went to teach school, and Gretchen took care of them. (Among other thing, she gave Angel a haircut and discovered that he had a healed bullet wound in his skull. Yes, his conversion testimony was dramatic! But no one, however dramatic his conversion, ought to be sent out immediately to preach about it.) We called a guy in our church to see if he could help with their car. He looked at it, fixed what was wrong, and on Monday they were on their way after coming to church with us on Sunday. We wanted to know what became of them, so I gave them a stamped and addressed envelope to write us when they got to Florida. But we never heard from them.

 

The Double Mistaken Identity: Joe Martin, 2002

On a Tuesday night, I got a phone call, this time from someone I knew. It was Joel Martin, one of the sons of Faith Martin, a very old friend. He was on his way to Princeton and had begun to feel ill. Could he stay the night with us? Sure. I gave him directions, and an hour later the doorbell rang. There stood a man I had never seen before, and he looked at me in obvious surprise.

 

We invited him in and sat down in the living room to figure things out. His name was Joe Martin, not Joel. And my name is Bill Edgar. It turned out that Joe was an old friend of Bill Edgar, a Westminster Seminary professor. They had known each at L’Abri, Switzerland. So Joe stayed the night with us and then went on his way.

 

A few days later I was in western Pennsylvania at a board meeting. I called Gretchen and she told me that Joe Martin had come by on his way back from Princeton. He explained that he already knew the way to our house, so he would stay with us. He took Gretchen and the children out for ice cream. Bill Edgar – the “other” Bill Edgar – later commented that the whole affair was typical of Joe Martin.

 

The Intruder: Zampitella, 2008

Most of the time, hospitality to strangers turns out to be a rather ordinary affair: typically a meal, conversation, use of shower and a bed, and then help with the next leg of a journey. Zampitella was not ordinary. At 2:00am on a Tuesday I heard loud banging on our back door. I assumed it was our son Alex, who had not come home yet when we had gone to bed Monday night of Memorial Day. He must have forgotten his house key. Annoyed, I let him knock for a while and then got up to let him in. Of course he was at the back door because our first floor bedroom is at the back of our house.

 

When I got to the kitchen, into which the backdoor opened, and turned on the light, there stood a complete stranger. He was six feet tall, thin, looked to be about forty years old, and wore very old jeans with several holes in them. He mumbled something in surprise about the lights and then said, “Yeah, I just broke into your house. Call 9-1-1.” He stood in the corner next to the kitchen knives, the island in the kitchen was between us, and I stood by the phone on the wall. He hadn't knocked at the back door; he had been kicking it open. I fixed my eyes on his belt buckle. The direction it went would be where he was going, but he stayed put.

 

I dialed 9-1-1 and a sleepy woman’s voice answered. “Hi, someone just broke into our house.” “OK. What’s the address?” I gave the address. “Is he black or white?” I didn’t want to start describing him as he stood eight feet away. “The first,” I said. “OK. Can you tell me your birthday?” “Why do you want my birthday? I want you to send the police!” With weary irritation, she said, “Sir, they’re on their way.” By now, still not fully awake, I was more upset with her than with him. Sensing that, she said, “Leave your phone off the hook.” That was the end of our conversation.

 

Looking at this guy, I suddenly felt sorry for him. I guessed (wrongly) that what he wanted was to be arrested so that he could go back to prison. He looked hungry and he was in my house, so the hospitable thing was to offer food and drink. “Do you want something to eat?” I asked. “Sure,” he said and took the loaf of Gretchen’s homemade bread sitting on the kitchen island. He took a great big rat’s bite out of a corner of it. “Do you want something to drink? Milk or water?” He chose milk. I poured him a glass and set it on the island.

 

All this time, I had three teen and adult sons asleep upstairs. Uselessly, they slept on. Gretchen heard what sounded like angry voices in the kitchen and peeked out of the bedroom door. Our guest looked like a Telmarine (Narnian character in Prince Caspian), but she knew I probably didn’t want little wifey trying to help, so she went back to bed.

 

Just then there was demanding knocking at the front door. “Oh great,” I thought. “Now the police are going to break down the front door.” “Follow me,” I commanded in my best teacher command voice. Obediently, our Telmarine visitor followed, glass with milk in hand. I turned on the living room light, opened the front door before the police could break it down. Our intruder politely set down his glass of milk on the piano, turned his back to the police with his hands behind his back, was handcuffed, and out he went. One officer looked things over briefly and left.

 

I went back to bed, but not to sleep. When morning came, I stupidly went to school, told my story to my math classes for laughs, and did several brainlessly idiotic things before the day was out. (Don’t go to work in the morning when someone has broken into your house at 2:00 a.m. Take the day off.)

 

A detective came in the morning and talked to Gretchen. The guy’s name was Zampitella. They had not questioned him yet because he was still so high on whatever drugs he had taken that they would not be able to use his testimony in court. He had left a small green flashlight behind on a kitchen counter. His mumbled comment about electricity became clear when they went to the backyard. Zampitella had taken a long tree pruner tool from our garage and tried to use it to cut the electric wire to our house. In fact, he had cut the netting on a soccer goal. The police knew this guy’s name, but he had not been in trouble for twenty years. His two children had been, though. He was a dark Italian. Sicilian?

 

On Saturday we went to morning court for his arraignment. His case was last so we sat through the entire docket. Everyone should spend one Saturday morning in the local court to hear about Friday night’s fun in the neighborhood. As I finally sat up high, properly sworn to tell the truth, they led him in wearing an orange jump suit. Now he was sober. I told my story, and he nodded appreciatively, amused, yeah I did that, yeah that happened. Suddenly he spoke up in a protesting voice. “I broke into the wrong house.” His court appointed young attorney almost jumped down his throat trying to shut him up.

 

I was looking forward to the court trial. I wanted to find out what house he intended to break into and why. If it had been our neighbor’s house to the north, he would probably have been dead. Our huge neighbor had his own gang past, once shot out the front side window on our van (he was aiming for a squirrel), ran a gym, and probably would either have beat Zampitella to a pulp with his fists or simply shot him. But no, there was a plea bargain. Zampitella got two years for breaking and entering, a little stiff I thought – no harm except for a broken back door and my sleep interrupted. Plus, the guy gave me a good story to tell. He also paid us damages money for two years.

 

The Foreigner: Marina, 2011

Gretchen and I spent the winter of 2011-12 in Larnaca, Cyprus. As was our practice at Broomall, we always got to the church first so we could open it and greet people as they came in. Our second week, two very young women came in and sat down. We were the only ones there. Quickly we said hello and invited them to our flat for dinner that evening. Marina said yes, the other young woman said no. Marina later said they had agreed that if no one spoke to them in five minutes, they would get up and leave.

 

At dinner Marina explained that she had been raised Orthodox, but had become a believer now and wanted to leave the Orthodox Church. Her friend did not agree and had come only as protective company in a strange place. Marina was from eastern Ukraine, a native Russian speaker who had come to Cyprus on a work visa to be a travel agent for Russian tourists to the island. She could not have been more than twenty-two, working in a foreign country.

 

Marina often visited us. We learned of her boyfriend back in Ukraine, her family, and her job. She asked questions. One I remember concluded with her saying in some frustration, “So! Zhenia [her then boyfriend] is right. I lose.” When we came back from Cyprus, Marina was one of many we were sorry to leave behind.

 

Of the strangers we hosted, the one we have continuing knowledge of is Marina. We met her and her husband later on a visit Cyprus. They now have a son. During the pandemic they could not stay in Cyprus (no tourist business), so they were back in Ukraine. When the present war began, Marina and their son made their way to Poland and then to Cyprus. Zhenia stayed in Ukraine to fight if necessary. With money sent to Marina from Hilltop Church in Almonte, Canada and from Broomall, she was able to pay for her mother to come to Cyprus. Her mother traveled from Ukraine through Russia to Georgia and then on to Cyprus.

 

Have you ever let people you had never met before and knew nothing about eat your food, talk with you, maybe sleep overnight in one of your beds, and then sent them on their way? We’d like to share your stories with the readers of A Little Strength. (If you don’t write much these days and are afraid you have forgotten your high school English writing lessons, don’t worry. Our faithful editor will clean up any writing mistakes. The important thing is your story. If you have such a story but don’t feel up to writing it, give me a call, tell me your story, and I’ll write it up.) Your stories will encourage others to do the same and obey God’s Word: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2. See also Genesis 18 and II Kings 4:8-10).” “I was a stranger and you welcomed me (Matthew 25:35).” Won’t that be wonderful to hear from our Lord?

– Bill Edgar

Questions: Neo-orthodoxy, Narrow Gate, Hats, and more

 

1. Should Christian parents bring children into a world that is falling apart?

          Yes! The world is always falling apart, and God always says to have children. When Israel’s world had fallen apart, and they were scattered across the Mediterranean world as slaves, or exiled in Babylon, God told them to marry, have children, and plant vineyards (Jeremiah 29:1-7). Believers, moreover, should pray for the peace and prosperity of whatever land they find themselves in, even as by faith they have children. Yes, God calls some (a few) not to marry for the sake of the kingdom of God (I Corinthians 7, Matthew 19:12), but that is not the norm in the Bible (Genesis 1:27-28, Genesis 2:24, Ecclesiastes 4:9, I Timothy 5:14, John 2:1-12).

 

2. How can Paul tell wives to submit to husbands and slaves to submit to their masters?

          I answered this question in a long ago sermon on Ephesians 5:18-24. It is too lengthy for this Q&A section; you are invited to listen to it on Sermon Audio: God Speaks to Wives and Husbands Part I. That sermon was adapted and published in the February 2022 issue of A Little Strength; re-read it at www.alittlestrength.org. And I preached a sequel, God Speaks to Wives & Husbands Part II, covering Ephesians 5:25-33.

 

3. What is the “narrow gate” in Matthew 7:13?

          The figure of speech for the Kingdom of God that Jesus uses in Matthew 7:13-14 is that of a city. Walled cities until the sixteenth century, when cannons made such walls an obsolete defense in warfare, included one or more main gates for travel and commerce. They were the weakest points in a city’s walls and so were made as strong as possible. It was also common to include in these walls a narrow and secret gate, as well hidden as possible. It was through such a gate that King Zedekiah’s army escaped the Babylonian siege despite the city being ringed by their soldiers (see II Kings 25:1-4). The Bible gives the exact location of that secret narrow gate. Readers of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit will remember the secret gate into the Lonely Mountain that could be found from the outside only one day a year. Such gates were called “postern gates.” (An English cognate word is “posterior,” that is, a back gate, rather like the back door of a house.) The point of Jesus’ metaphor is that the gate into his Kingdom is secret. People would never discover it for themselves. We need God to reveal it to us.

 

What is the narrow postern gate into the City of God that few find? It is Jesus himself. It is a narrow gate, and it leads to life. Only those who come through Jesus will enter his Kingdom: there is no other way (Acts 4:12). And the way of Jesus is hard, since he told his followers to take up their crosses daily and follow him (Luke 9:23). The well-traveled broad gate, easy to find and accommodating all sorts of faiths and accepting whatever seems good to a person, leads to destruction. Many go that way.

 

4. What is “neo-Orthodoxy?”

          Neo-orthodoxy is the name given to a Protestant theological school of thought that sprang up after World War I. Prominent names are Karl Barth, Emil Brunner, and Reinhold Niebuhr. They laughed at the optimistic silliness of liberal pre-war Protestants who expected constant human progress, dismissed the idea of Original Sin as so much misanthropic nonsense, and viewed Jesus as only a man. Niebuhr in 1937 pungently summed up Protestant liberalism: “A God without wrath brought men without sin into a Kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a Cross.” In contrast to liberal Protestants, they began writing again about personal sin, God, judgment, and salvation.

 

However, the neo-orthodox theologians did NOT believe in a genuine historical revelation of God preserved faithfully in the Bible. They invented a distinction between two supposedly different ways of looking at history. Using German words, they taught that “Historie” is what actually happened, while “Geschichte” is the meaning of what happened. It is interpreted history. The Bible’s historical passages are interpreted history, “Geschichte,” and therefore only the naïve believe that these things actually happened. (One needs scientific scholars to discover the “Historie” (i.e., truth) behind what is reported in Scriptures to have happened.) What matters more than what really happened is the human reaction to preaching about it. Thus, it is unimportant whether Jesus actually rose bodily from the dead. What counts is our response to the message (“kerygma,” from the Greek word for proclamation) that he rose from the dead.

 

Neo-orthodoxy, therefore, is not orthodoxy. It does not teach what the American evangelist to Switzerland, Francis Schaeffer, called “true truth.” It is sobered liberalism, but still liberalism. With the advent of the feminist movement in the 1970s, neo-orthodoxy began to fade in popularity. Other enthusiasms took its place. Few today remember the name of Niebuhr or Brunner, and Barth is fading.

 

5. Should the RPC require Roman Catholics to be baptized [again]?

          Throughout the 1920-50 period of the RP mission to Syria the question of baptizing converts from Greek Orthodoxy was raised more than once in Synod. Consistently, Synod ruled that no further baptism than the infant baptisms performed in the Greek Orthodox Church was necessary. The reason was that Orthodox baptism is done in the name of the Triune God, doctrinally understood in precisely the same way as the Westminster Confession of Faith. In the 1970s the same question was raised concerning Roman Catholic infant baptism: is it a valid baptism? The question dragged on for years, with different committee reports being presented and rejected. The Synod could not agree. Finally, a report adopted by Synod in 1985 concluded, “Our understanding is imperfect but a decision is necessary at this point, rather than a non-decision. Recommendations: That we uphold the present practice of requiring baptism of Roman Catholic converts seeking to enter the R.P.C.N.A. (Minutes of Synod 1985 p 42).” (It is not clear that requiring baptism of Roman Catholics was, in fact, the current practice of the church: that is why the question was before the synod for many years.) The Minutes for the same synod two days later record: “The following special resolution concerning the baptism of Catholics was adopted: 1) Because the report acknowledges the uncertainty and liability to error in this decision; 2) Because, while raising very serious questions about the validity of Roman Catholic baptism, the report does not definitely declare it to be invalid; 3) Because there is a long-standing disagreement on this matter among Reformed churches, Therefore, Synod declares that its decision is for the general guidance of our sessions, and is not to be regarded as the inviolable rule of the church (Ibid p 52).”

​

6. Should women wear hats in church?

          Yes, but...

Scarves will do as well as hats, maybe better. Hat contests between women in church have not been uncommon. One may awkwardly call them “head coverings” if one likes, but it should be either a hat or a scarf. Why? The Apostle Paul deals with this question in I Corinthians 11:3-16. It is the only place in the Scriptures where this issue appears, which means it is unwise to be dogmatic about it. Furthermore, the passage has been acknowledged to have things difficult to interpret with certainty. Hence the “but.” Nevertheless, it is undeniable that the universal practice of the Christian church from ancient times until after World War II was for women to wear hats in public, and at a minimum in church. It wasn’t just an issue in Corinth either. Paul concludes, “If anyone is inclined to be contentious, we have no such practice, nor do the churches of God (I Co 11:16).”

 

In Roman culture of the first century married women had the right to wear a “head covering” as a sign of their dignity as married women. All women wearing hats (or scarves) in church meant that in God’s sight all women were equal in dignity, married and unmarried. Perhaps that Roman practice of allowing married women to wear hats plays a part in the Bible’s instructions.

 

A corollary of the hat rule for women in church is that men not wear hats. Men wearing baseball caps in church, usually backwards, also disobey Paul’s instructions. Hats on men show disrespect to God and to women.

 

One possible advantage of returning to the consistent practice of women wearing hats in church, and men never wearing them, is to make it clear that men and women are different, mutually dependent as Paul writes, but different. God created Man “male and female.” In our day that difference is denied in multiple ways. Women with head scarves in church, and men with no ball caps on backwards or any other hat at all would testify to ourselves, to the world, and to the unseen world, that we accept God’s creation ordinance. Man is “male and female,” shown in part by having different dress standards. Those different standards have varied through time and place, but a simple one followed by the Christian Church until quite recently is that, in church, women wear hats. Men don’t.

 

Should church officers or husbands or fathers insist on women wearing hats or scarves? No, because this requirement is based on only one passage in Scripture, because the passage is admittedly difficult to interpret, and because in our day there is no wide cultural support for insisting that women wear hats in church. So let women read I Corinthians 11:3-16, give due respect to the near universal practice of the church, and decide for themselves: hats, scarves, or bare heads. 

– Bill Edgar