By the end of 1827, the controversy of the “new measures” in revival seems to have come to an end…of sorts. By 1827 the influence of Charles Finney had grown to capture the ear of the churches in Philadelphia (America’s second largest city at the time). Charles Finney was soon holding revivals throughout the city of brotherly love. In May of 1828, a friend of the “new measures” of Finney and his young associates designed and circulated a “Treaty of Mutual Silence.” The document held signatories in agreement to “cease from all publications, correspondence, conversations, and conduct designed and calculated to keep those subjects before the public mind” and “to induce our friends on either side to do the same.” On the surface, this document seemed to herald a Christian virtue – the unity of brothers in the Lord. To the uninformed minister or church-goers in Philadelphia, far away from the rumblings that occurred in Western New York, this compact was one more indication of the pious and passionate heart of a new wave of young evangelists led by Finney. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Just prior to the circulation of the “Treaty of Mutual Silence,” Asahel Nettleton (see Feb.12th blog) and William Weeks had been “collecting facts and making preparations to publish them” regarding the “new measures” and the growing reliance on man-centered means to produce converts void of Spirit-induced conviction. The report would also question the refusal of certain young evangelists to examine the lasting fruit of those being converted under the “new measures” in an effort avoid fanning the flames of counterfeit faith that seemed to be burning out of control. The expressed motive for the circulating petition was an attempt to keep Nettleton and Weeks from damaging the work of the Spirit by questioning the means in which the Spirit had chosen to work. Finney did not want to quench the Spirit by questioning the Spirit and, therefore, for a minister or evangelist to not sign the agreement would be to effectively align oneself against the Spirit of God.
The cry for a unity of silence was too great and the desire to evaluate the basis for true revival proved too small. By the time the report by Nettleton and Weeks would be published in 1848, both men were dead and the whole controversy, far from being settled in 1827, would have proceeded to the change the course of American History and the Evangelical Church forever.
Questions: Is there a church unity found only on the other side of “controversy?” How do you know when to cry out and when to be silent?
I’m not quite sure what the first question is but the whole bit about “not wanting to question the spirit” can be rebutted with 1st John 4. Anytime someone says not to question something then that is a big red flag for me.
One of the biggest road blocks I find is people don’t test the spirits because testing doesn’t seem like it “fits” in with the fruit of the Spirit? Once you question or “cry out”, you are easily portrayed as “not displaying Christian fruit” and demonized.
“See all the other Christians smiling and nodding their heads? If you were a TRUE Christian you wouldn’t be so disagreeable.”
Have any suggestions?
I think the posture of Paul in dealing with inter-personal differences is very instructive here. In Phil. 4:2 Paul “pleads” with both parties to “agree in the Lord.” I believe a critical step early in disagreement is face-to-face discussion under the Lordship of Christ (see Eph.5:21). So often friction grows because the distance and dialogue between two people or parties does not happen. Statements are made, positions are formulated, and lines are drawn. It is VITAL that people talk even when pressure is driving parties apart. Other thoughts?
I think a great deal of pain and heartache could be avoided if followers of Christ weren’t so ardent in avoiding conflict.
Your options are 1) I’m wrong, you’re right; 2) you’re wrong, I’m right; 3) we’re both wrong; and 4) maybe this isn’t a right/wrong thing after all, in which case it’s less important than our obligation to love one another.
If it’s #1, 2, or 3, there’s some pride to be swallowed. That’s a good reason to avoid emotionally investing yourself too deeply; better to have a sense of humor (or even contempt!) about yourself. If it’s #4, confess that you made a mountain out of a molehill, both of you ask forgiveness from the other, and if circumstances warrant, publicly announce your reconciliation to the glory of God.
I don’t know the whole history with Finney et al, but this account makes it sound like Finney could have taken himself somewhat less seriously and pursued some kind of edifying outcome.
But a person of influence (like Finney, for one) inevitably will have a barrage of criticism leveled his way. How does a highly-leveraged leader commit himself deeply to his calling, remain mindful of the counsel and rebuke of others, and yet be wisely selective about the critics he engages in the healthy ways I’ve suggested?
I would suggest the time-tested truth of friendship. Proverbs speaks to the value of a friend being measured, at times, in relation to the wounds that they deliver. God has provided within inter-pesonal relationships the dynamic to address issues that demand attention. I can’t help but think that if Finney had a friend pull him aside or his cohorts, that much of his rampage could have been at least minimized. Think about it. Where were the Presbyterians on this? They ordained him. The local pastors in Philadelphia seemingly gave him free-reign since he was “producing.” Culpability is all over the place and one friend could have made a big difference.