12/2/51

Scripture: John 1: 1-14

Text: John 1: 12, 12; ".... To them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God."

The starting point of the Christian faith is in the life of the common man -- in your life and my life. Its destiny is the creation of an uncommon person -- and that also can be true of your life and mine.

The Gospel of John is believed to have been written considerably later than the other Gospel accounts. And its author, nearly a century after the birth of Christ, looking back over what Christian faith had produced, made this comment: "As many as received him, to them gave he the power to become the children of God, even to them that believe on his name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God."

John was writing an observation; he was writing history -- not alone what man ought to become, but what in fact he had become under the influence of the Christian gospel. Man had there become in fact, as well as in ideal, a child of God.

It wasn’t just the directors of their social order -- kings, princes, governors, priests or policemen; it wasn’t alone the scholars nor seers nor scientists, who had become the children of God. It was humanity at the grass roots -- common folk -- fishermen, tax collectors, peasants, outcasts, a woman of the street, a man cured of leprosy, carpenters, sheep herders. In the days that followed Pentecost, days when the gospel of Christ spread like a benign contagion, greatness sprang from the grass roots.

In his letter to the Christians at Corinth, Paul called it to their attention: "Behold your calling, brethren, that not many wise after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called." [I Corinthians 1: 26]. Their church was not particularly aristocratic. One would not have joined it for its better social connections. There might be a landlord and slave owner in it. And there might just as easily be a slave in it; such as the Christian run-away slave whom Paul once sent back to his Christian master. But those common folk of the early Christian Church were the clay into which God breathed greatness, just as He had early in creation breathed into it the breath of life.

Some of us worry quite a bit about the course of humanity today. And well we may. We worry about communism and a violent world-revolution among masses of people. We worry about trends toward socialism here in America. We worry about the rise of pagan worship of the state here and abroad. We have been disquieted by a trend toward governmental paternalism and people’s eager dependence upon it from cradle to grave. We are dismayed by the rising cost of it all and we wonder darkly if it will bankrupt the nation. There is much foundation for such worry!

However, let these worries not befuddle nor confuse us. If we think that communism can be stopped by bullets, that socialism can be stopped by ballots, the paternalistic state by elections, governmental spending by political pressures, we reckon without humanity at the grass roots, where greatness begins.

God’s most potent weapon for turning the tide from evil to righteousness is in the transformed lives of common, ordinary people. From the days when Moses cried before Pharaoh, "Let my people go," to the days of underground resistance in France, and Holland, in Denmark and Norway under the Nazis, the rise of greatness in common people has been God’s secret and powerful weapon. The common at humanity’s grass roots, is the answer. But he must be something other than much of him is today if his answer is to bring salvation to our sick world.

Let us look thoughtfully at the situation -- where we have failed and where Christian faith has succeeded. Warren Grafton points out that there are three philosophies of human nature that lead to failure and one true philosophy that can get us out of our failures. And, interestingly enough, all four of these philosophies are stated in the prologue of John’s gospel. Here are the three false philosophies: "born (1) not of blood, nor of (2) the will of the flesh, nor (3) of the will of man." And then comes the true philosophy of human nature, "but of God."

1) The first of these philosophies is that of naturalism -- the idea that man, in his pristine state, is pure and undefiled and that, if let alone, he will always seek the best. In other words, man "born of blood," in his natural state, is adequate unto himself. This is the philosophical background of Rousseau and the French Revolution. A young English writer, captivated by it, went to France to visit it at first hand. Seeing the results, how when man was left free to follow his own impulse, the beast came to the top, he went back to England disillusioned and sick of it.

The naturalist holds that the evils of the world stem from civilization, from law and order, from man’s control over fellow man. Set him free of control, and lo! his nobleness will rise and exert itself! To a degree this is the philosophy of those who have championed laissez faire - "let alone" - in free-enterprise industry. "Supply and demand" will work it all out; no "tinkering" or "meddling" are some of the by-words.

If this be true, we might expect to find utopia where there is the least control -- in the jungle. Where there are fewest prohibitions and fewest inhibitions, one should find the ideal society. If one really believed this, would it not be logical to go, as soon as possible, to one of the yet-unoccupied jungle areas to set up housekeeping? The sobering fact, however, is that natural man, set free from restraints, is anything but godlike. When we take that philosophy of life, we head for the jungles of the primeval forests or the city slums. "Not of blood."

2) A second false philosophy sees man as a beast, incurably selfish, sensuous, sadistic. In a writer’s voice, "Humanity is a great beast!"

If in our first-mentioned philosophy, man is seen as a creature only of blood, this second philosophy sees him as a creature born only of the will of the flesh. The philosophy of naturalism overrates man; the philosophy of materialism underrates him. It appeals to him on a fleshly basis, controlled at that level in all of his choices. Materialism is the philosophy most alarmingly popularized in nazism and communism. According to Nietzsche and Karl Marx, man will never respond to the appeal of that which is higher than self-interest. His hungers, his appetites, his drives are what make the man.

It may be remarked that this philosophy of materialism which underrates man has been known to be used by those of the "new deal," the "fair deal," and by many of those who oppose both the new deal and the fair deal. How can we reach the common man today? (1) Through bribery. Offer him what he wants. Assure him of security -- money, more benefits, fewer job hours. (2) Through repetition. Throw slogans at him through eye and ear, until his resistance is worn down. Appeal not to his independence and action, but overcome his independence of choice and get him lined up. (3) Through envy and covetousness. Buy this car or that fur coat and get ahead of the Joneses. (4) Through flattery. Drink, or smoke, or eat, or wear, our brand and become a man of distinction. Accept our political solution and really be somebody!

There is no greatness at the grass roots when we assume that humanity is a great beast that must be bribed, flattered, cajoled. "Not of the will of the flesh."

3) Third, not of the will of man. Naturalism sees man born of blood. Materialism sees him born of the will of the flesh. Totalitarianism sees him born of the will of man--man exercising absolute control over his fellow man. Ultimate despotism! This is the philosophy which sees the common man as incapable of governing himself, thinking for himself, deciding for himself. The human will holds other human wills in subjection. Politically, it has been one of the ways of nazism and communism.

These philosophies of human nature are not only materialistic, looking on man as a great, capable beast; but they are despotic. This is the order -- gain control by appealing to man’s lower nature. Once in control, rule with an iron rod over all of man’s nature; physical, intellectual and spiritual.

Ecclesiastically, the philosophy of regimentation finds expression in the authoritarian church wherein a communicant member may not have ideas independent of what his church authorities tell him. He is incapable of such independence. Therefore the authoritarian church must do his thinking for him.

This may produce obedient churchmen. It may achieve some united action. But it does not induce greatness at the grass roots. It is no accident that the great preachers of the Christian Church, one or two prominent exceptions on the radio notwithstanding, are ministers of the free churches.

Men controlled by the will of man -- even by that man who says he represents the will of God -- can no more become a mature person, than can a child if kept tied to his parents’ apron strings. "Not the will of man!"

4) But of God. In these three simple words, John states the secret of that greatness which grew out of the common man in days when Christian faith first swept over the earth. How did it come about -- this transformation of common man to child of God? It came through a process of culture -- a word of the soil, of the earth. The difference between a weed patch and a formal garden is culture -- cultivation.

Jesus did not assume that man was naturally good, that born of blood he could find heaven on earth. He did not assume that man was a beast born of the flesh, incapable of becoming anything but a bundle of appetites. He didn’t assume that the common man is naturally weak, born of the will of man, to be forever under some tyrant’s domination.

Jesus said that this creature of dust, this common man, could be born from above so that he may become god-like in his quality of living. It doesn’t happen by accident -- it happens by intent. It is a matter of culture. Man must be made that way -- and man can be made that way!

Consider the parable of the dog and the wolf. The dog, as we know him, is akin to the wolf. But across centuries, his wolf-like qualities have been tamed so that instead of being man’s enemy, he is man’s friend. Think of the dog back in his wolf-like days. There were four possible ways of looking at him.

1) He is inherently tame; let him alone to do what comes naturally. Would anyone want such a pet around the place?

2) He is bestial; nothing can be done with him. Well, left that way, the dog would still be a wolf today.

3) He is uncontrollable and must be restrained. Put him in a cage and do not expect his nature to change.

4) He is capable of being more than a wolf. He is capable of being man’s dependable servant and friend. So, ages of creative love has tamed the wolf-like character of the dog, taken him from the jungle wilderness and made him a part of a citizen’s world.

Christian faith has done something like this to human nature -- not alone by the slow and laborious processes of evolution as in the case of the dog, but also by quick transformation. This revolution in personal human experience was swift in the days of Jesus and of Paul. Christian faith does that in human lives today, as it has in every generation. But individual greatness, here and there, is not enough. There must again be a resurgence of greatness among the common folk of the earth if the moral and social problems of our time are to arrive at a right solution.

There was a time in the history of England when the spirit of Christian faith transformed enough common people so that the revolution of their time was accomplished peacefully and constructively -- not in the bloody fashion of the French revolt. I refer to the religious upsurge at the preaching of the Wesleys and Whitfield and others. What our time needs more than anything else is a powerful, spiritual resurgence of grass roots Christianity in ordinary people.

The modern systems of ours that seem to be shaking under revolutionary pressure are idealistic systems. They presuppose that we are capable of being set free from outward restraint. They call for that greatness that begins in the common man.

This is the only chance we have to make free enterprise work. I believe that free enterprise is best adapted to bring out the best in man. But it hasn’t a chance of working unless there is greatness in the people who make up all of it. Only as men approach their work, not as creatures of greed, but as creatures of God, can we work out what our forebears called the "commonwealth."

That is the only chance of making democracy work. I believe that democracy is best adapted to bring out the best in the citizenry. But it can’t survive much longer without greatness, or at least the leaven of greatness, in the citizenry, among the common folk.

The only chance we have of keeping America a land of free churches, in which state I believe that man is more nearly what God intended him to be than in any other estate, is for the people to be great, with the greatness of God. Pro-testing faith can not be kept alive by preaching alone. It must be a transforming fire in the hearts of all churchmen. It began as a movement of the people, and it must continue as a movement of the people, grown great through their own stirring faith in the Son of God.

A free man’s world can no more function on a lot of present human stuff than a finely tuned airplane motor can function on low-grade gasoline. A free man’s world - whether in economics, politics or religion, calls for greatness in all people -- at the grass roots. Only Christian faith can produce that greatness.

"To them gave he power to become the children of God, even to them that believe on his name; who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God."

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Dates and places delivered:

Wisconsin Rapids, December 2, 1951.

Wisconsin Rapids, October 9, 1955.