Due to the tough Missouri winters, January is usually a pretty uneventful month. Of course, becoming a father on the 12th kind of threw cold water on that whole notion!
Learning with Dead Presidents
Recently, I finally read a book that had lingered on my list far too long: Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President (Anchor, 2012). Candice Millard has distinguished herself as an energetic writer of history, and this treatment of the assassination of President James Garfield exemplifies this.
(As an aside, I read multiple presidential biographies/autobiographies each year. It’s surely guilty pleasure reading. But it often confirms my working theory of presidential history, which is that people often overstate the accomplishments of some presidents, and understate the accomplishments of many. Be wary of “great presidents lists” produced by newspaper editorial boards and presidential historians. We’re all shaped by our understanding of the proper role of government, and the relevance of character to political leadership. So read deeply. Read widely. Read carefully. Then, come to a judgment about presidents as best as you can.)
Back to Millard. She simultaneously tells two stories: the rise of Garfield as a politician and eventual president, and the scandalous, sordid journey of Charles Guiteau, the man who shot Garfield. I’ll spare readers the full story as it may dampen your appreciation of Millard’s telling. I came to the book knowing much of the story, but she beautifully unearths many details of Guiteau’s life that placed him on a collision course with Garfield.
There are two elements of this forgotten history that are pertinent to our current political moment. First, by all accounts, Garfield’s unfortunate demise seems to have been avoidable. Many physicians of his era (1881), and certainly medical historians of later times, agree that it wasn’t Guiteau’s bullet that proved fatal; rather, it was the resulting infection that was completely mismanaged and even fostered by the main attending physician. It’s maddening to read of this physician’s unwillingness to consider the new, emerging science on germs and infection. While lives were being saved in Europe due to new understanding of septic poisoning, our 20th president was languishing. And this doesn’t begin to consider the new technology that men like Alexander Graham Bell were pioneering that could help locate bullets.
Is anti-vaccination sentiment a modern parallel to this? I raise this question tentatively, recognizing the disputed nature of the subject and the fact that I’m not entirely sure. There are more than two positions to have on this subject—probably six or eight! I simply wonder, for all the things that mainstream journalists and health care bureaucrats have been incorrect about during the last two years (and there have been plenty), what if this is the one correct thing? Might it be the most important practical thing to be right about—the best way to avoid premature death from a novel virus while continuing to be active in the world and in relationships?
I’ll simply say this: one can generally oppose government mandates (as I do), and also say to each of their friends, “I really wish you’d consider this.” The story of Garfield’s death and his doctor’s hubris to refuse new information haunts me.
A second and perhaps clearer takeaway from Millard’s work is how political climates and political violence fuel one another. Guiteau was, by all accounts, a deranged charlatan. And amid all his failed pursuits, he ultimately believed that he was both integral to Garfield’s election, and that he would assuredly have a desirable role in the new administration. In those days, the spoils system was alive and well; some simply called it patronage.
Presidents entered office owing favors to many, including the most unsavory, unscrupulous, unqualified persons. When Garfield refused to dole out roles the way many had expected, people turned on him politically, including Guiteau. Guiteau would go on to proclaim publicly that he was serving the republic by shooting Garfield, making it possible for Vice President Chester Arthur to become President. Imagine Arthur’s dismay when he heard that the madman who shot Garfield did it to help him become President! Speculations ran wild that perhaps there was a connection between the two.
There’s much at stake when tempers rage, and political ressentiment is pervasive. Is there a better way to characterize the climate in Washington D.C., or simply social media? If one truly believes that democracy itself is at stake in a single election, or that a specific politician can destroy it (e.g., Joe Biden, Donald Trump, Joe Manchin, Nancy Pelosi), they can easily rationalize taking an action like that of Guiteau. Isn’t violence justified under such circumstances? It wouldn’t take the most deranged person to reason to that conclusion. Others have followed a similar logic. And if the riots of 2020 were justified in the name of Social Justice, Inc., and the Capitol riot of 2021 was justified in the name of Election Integrity, Inc., why not walk up to the congressman, senator, or presidential candidate blocking your political priorities, and fire?
I don’t mean to be cynical. Far from it! While I don’t remain hopeful of any great national unity in the near future, followers of Jesus should recognize the potential cost of not praying for and pursuing civil peace.
The Blank Slate Problem
I saw recently where Thom Rainer and the team at Church Answers were hosting a webinar called “The Blank Slate Church in 2022.” The subtitle promoting this was “Four Key Ways to Move Forward in the Midst of a Sea of Changes.” Rainer has written several helpful little books through the years, so a virtual event with such a title is par for the course. But I’m struck by the phrase: “Blank slate.” He’s not the first to use this kind of language to refer to moving forward in uncertain times.
Going back to 2015, Tod Bolsinger published a heralded leadership book called Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory. Bolsinger uses the story of Lewis and Clark seeking the Northwest Passage as a parable for leading Christian organizations when all prior expectations and experience turn out to not fit the unprecedented nature of your circumstances.
Rainer’s webinar and Bolsinger’s book dovetail in this way: What’s the best way to way to characterize how the church should think about ministry at this stage of the pandemic?
I want to raise two significant claims here: First, the blank slate metaphor probably shouldn’t be the main one churches employ, even now, given how clear Scripture is about the mission of God and the mission of the church. Second, assuming we’ve truly been pursuing a biblical approach to ministry prior to the pandemic, future changes should be mostly on the level of emphasis, not kind.
World change isn’t a new experience for churches. Just in my lifetime, I think of these events: the end of the Cold War, the advent of the Internet, 9/11, the financial collapse of 2008-2009, the social media and Smartphone revolutions, and the COVID-19 pandemic. In other words, world-changing things happen in this country at least every 8-10 years. I don’t deny the massive acceleration of change. I don’t assume Christian institutions are exempt from such changes. And I certainly don’t deny that too many Christian institutions are arthritic, not nearly nimble enough to adapt to changing circumstances. What I’m saying is that this isn’t a new problem, and so we’d do well to consider how the church has faithfully adapted throughout history before we attempt to develop some entirely philosophy or program (I don’t think Rainer necessarily wants to do this, to be clear).
The best thing Christian institutions can do, especially churches, is to be in the habit of regular evaluation and reflection. Are our energies, resources, and strategies consistent with Scripture? Are we faithfully communicating mission and building commitment in people from one generation to the next? We shouldn’t need a pandemic to reorient our way of thinking, even if God providentially intended this specific world-historical event for this end. And I accept that quite likely He did!
The helpful thing about being shut down or stalled out is that these can cause us to see what we thought we were versus what we actually are. But when we conduct our ministry audits, even after a dramatic event in the church or in the world, we let’s not assume we’re actually starting with a blank slate. Your church is already committed to certain truths and practices. We just need to ensure we know what they are.
Currently Reading:
Dune (Frank Herbert)
The Unity and Disunity of the Church (G.W. Bromiley)
You’re Only Human: How Your Limits Reflect God’s Design and Why That’s Good News (Kelly Kapic)
Have a great week! Do what you can to turn the temperature down in this turbulent political climate, and think carefully about the place where creative adaptation and faithful perseverance meet.