I came across a book in the "new books" shelf at the library today. It was a surprise, because it was a book I read a few years ago. But I saw that this was the "revised and updated" version.
I wonder how Francis A. Schaeffer would revise and update "The Church at the End of the Twentieth Century" (aside from the title) were he around to do so today, 43 years after it was written.
There would be some omissions, for certain. The sentence "Within 20 years we will be able to make the kinds of babies we want to make" would have to go. Still hasn't happened; doesn't seem likely to happen anytime soon.
But I think some of Schaeffer's larger points also might require reconsideration. He believed that a revolution was in the offing, either from the New Left or from the Establishment Elite. Either would be very bad for the church, he argued, although an Establishment Elite revolution might appear more favorable. The only way to prevent one or the other from happening, he said, would be the re-emergence of a truly vital orthodox (small "o") church
None of these seems to have occurred.
Were he writing today, Schaeffer probably also would want to comment on some trends that would have been difficult to foresee in 1970. Then, the fear was the threat of godless communism. Today, the threat comes from terrorists who consider us to be the godless ones.
I think he also would have been fascinated by the explosive growth of Christianity in Africa and in South America. Surely, he would have had thoughts about that unprecedented movement.
So why read a book looking ahead to the last 30 years of a century that already is past? Because so much of it still applies today.
The church of Jesus Christ can't be the church of the status quo, Schaeffer argued. It has to be the revolutionary body that Jesus called it to be. That is the only way it would interest the disengaged youth of his day, and of ours.
I liked the last chapter ("revolutionary Christianity") best, because it's where Schaeffer became dangerously practical.
"Don't start a big program," he wrote. "Don't suddenly think you can add to your church budget and begin. Start personally and start in your homes. I dare you. I dare you in the name of Jesus Christ. Do what I am going to suggest. Begin by opening your home for community."
He challenged white Christians to invite blacks into their homes and black Christians to invite whites into their homes. And not just respectable people ...
"How many times in the past year have you risked having a drunk vomit on your carpeted floor?" he challenged. "How in the world, then can you talk about compassion and community -- about the church's job in the inner city?"
This is what he and his wife, Edith, were doing at L'Abri Fellowship in Switzerland.
"In about the first three years of L'Abri, all of our wedding presents were wiped out," he writes. "Our sheets were torn. Holes were burned in our rugs. Indeed once a whole curtain almost burned up from someone smoking in our living room ..."
So in the things that count, "The Church at the End ..." is as convicting today as it was 43 years ago.