Commentary: Finding common ground with different centers

This article is 7 of 9 in the Leading from the Center series by three writers.

Perhaps you have heard this anonymous “little ditty” somewhere along the way: “To dwell above with saints we love / Oh that will be grace and glory! / But to live below with saints we know / Ah! That’s a different story!”

While humorous to most of us, this hackneyed turn of phrase accurately captures a common Christian experience—namely annoyance, aggravation or even anger toward other Christ-followers.

As it happens, not a few of us have become rather adroit at rubbing one another the wrong way as we seek to follow the Way. Like porcupines on a cold winter’s night, we need one another, yet we needle one another.

Over the span of my ministry—some 40 years now—I have observed and experienced a curious, if troubling, phenomenon. Conflict often is most disconcerting and acute with those with whom we hold most in common. Given that I majored in sociology as an undergraduate, this should not have surprised me.

Based, at least in part, upon the classic work of Lewis A. Coser, The Functions of Social Conflict, it is all but axiomatic—at least in social-scientific circles—that close contact with others—including family members, for example—can create meaningful, mutual relationships.

If or when something goes south, however, division and discord, not to mention rancor and resentment, can rear their ugly heads and grow like a rapidly spreading wildfire. While such thankfully is not always the case, it has been so among evangelicals of late.

What differences might obscure

In recent years, it has become increasingly clear to me that “convictional congruence” can sometimes eclipse “denominational allegiance” in importance. For my part, “I am BGCT-born and BGCT-bred, and when I die, I will be BGCT-dead”—or something like that.

That being said, I have found it both surprising and significant that I sometimes seem to share as much, if not more, in common with Christians from other denominations with respect to certain theological convictions and ethical commitments, if not ecclesial and liturgical patterns, than I do with some people within my own, bewilderingly broad Baptist tribe.

If this strikes you as a far-fetched notion, it is worth framing and reflecting upon a question like this: What do Alliance Baptists, for example, have in common with Southern Baptists? Once one moves beyond the denominational label, congregational polity and certain observable liturgical practices, theological and ethical differences appear to be greater than not.

Evangelicals generally defined

Though fraught because the term has been hijacked by those with certain political agendas, not a few Baptists regard and describe themselves not only as “orthodox” believers—embracing and espousing what most Christians in most places at most times have embraced and espoused—but also as “evangelicals.”

For my part, with respect to what constitutes an evangelical, I have been aided by the so-called “Bebbington quadrilateral,” posited by the British Baptist historian David W. Bebbington.

Bebbington maintains there are four primary components and commitments that demarcate and animate evangelicals:

1. Biblicism—the belief that all essential spiritual truth is found in the Bible, which is authoritative for matters of faith and practice.

2. Crucicentrism—a focus upon Christ Jesus and his life-giving, atoning death upon the cross.

3. Conversionism—the view that all people need to experience conversion and regeneration through Jesus Christ.

4. Activism—the belief that the gospel is to be expressed through effort, that is, good works.

Although not all church historians would describe and delineate evangelicals or evangelicalism precisely as Bebbington does, his quadrilateral has been adopted by many as a “rough and ready” description of the movement.

Finding common ground

As it happens, however, evangelicals are anything but monochrome. If evangelicals are united by the four aforementioned convictions, one does not have to look too hard to discover decided differences within evangelicalism.

For example, while some evangelicals are content to speak of the Bible as authoritative and inspired, others insist on using the word “inerrancy.” While some evangelicals are “Calvinists,” other evangelicals are “Arminians.” While some evangelicals are “dispensationalists,” other evangelicals are “amillenialists.”

While some evangelicals are “complimentarians,” other evangelicals are “egalitarians.” While some evangelicals are political and social “conservatives,” other evangelicals are political and social “progressives.”

Given this complex though realistic picture, one may reasonably ask if it is even possible to find “common ground with different centers.” My answer is a qualified “yes.” It requires, however, a habit of heart and mind willing to say: “In the essentials, unity; in nonessentials liberty; in all things charity.”

It also requires piety, patience, perseverance and not a little bit of humility in seeking to discern what the (non)essentials are. This is as simple and as hard as it sounds.

On loving a five-point Calvinist

Although I now have been on the faculty of Baylor’s Truett Seminary for 20 years, I started my academic career at Dallas Baptist University at the invitation of then-President Gary Cook.

I was delighted to be there and have wonderful memories of the five years I spent at DBU teaching courses in New Testament and Greek to wonderful students.

Yet, it was clear to me from the beginning that a goodly and sometimes vocal majority of the faculty in the Mary C. Crowley College of Christian Faith were very wary of me. Indeed, a few of them made it crystal clear they wished I never had been hired and did what they could to cast aspersions on me and my theology.

If this was the rule in the college, there was an exception in the person of David Naugle, now of blessed memory. Early and protracted theological conversations with my learned colleague in philosophy revealed he was a five-point Calvinist.

Although I was and am highly allergic to that theological vantage point—for reasons I have neither time nor space to consider here—I dare say I never have been closer to a professional colleague than I was to “Davey.”

We shared many meals together, played many rounds of golf together, played many games of racquetball together, played in a band together and spent hours on end talking about family and theology, students and school.

How could and did this happen? I am not entirely certain. We certainly did not lay down our well-known theological differences. We did, however, let down our guard and agreed to disagree about this thing and that.

Furthermore, we opted to focus on all we shared in common. Others were puzzled how we could be so close. We might have been too had we ever stopped to give it much thought, but there were more important things for us to do together.

Davey Naugle left a legacy in various and sundry ways. One way his life has impacted my life indelibly and irrevocably is through his magnanimous, generous spirit.

On my better days, I am able “to keep the main thing the main thing” like Davey did. On my lesser days, I allow the secondary and tertiary to become primary. I know better. Perhaps you do, too.

Todd Still is dean and professor of Christian Scriptures at Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary. This article is 7 of 9 in the Leading from the Center series by three writers.