Sunday, June 24, 2018

My Conscientious Objector Journey and Witness



Norman Stolpe
June 24, 2018
For the Church’s first three centuries, Christians did not participate in war or the military with very few exceptions. Since Constantine made his distorted version of Christianity the religion of the Roman Empire, Christians have debated how to respond to war and the military. In Romans 14:5, Paul wrote about how to handle debatable issues. “Let all be fully convinced in their own minds.” I have written how and why I became fully convinced to declare myself a conscientious objector to war in 1970. I respect those who are fully convinced of a different opinion and do not intend to criticize or change their convictions, but I would like to have that same respect extended to me and other conscientious objectors by those who disagree with us.

The script from with Ray Gingrich and I made our presentations in worship for Milwaukee Mennonite Church is available at http://ndsworshipmessages.blogspot.com/2018/06/gods-redemptive-love-vs-myth-of.html 
My Conscientious Objector Journey
My conscientious objector journey is integral to and inseparable from my journey to follow Jesus as his faithful disciple. Though I grew up in and always valued church, I mark the beginning of my adult faith with the reading of the biblical book of Job and Archibald MacLeish’s play JB in World Lit as a high school senior in 1964. I began to see that God understood and cared about the seemingly insoluble struggles of human experience that I had been pondering through literature but did not find help from the church. 
I had thought of the draft and military service as a somewhat benign rite of passage into adulthood, either before or after college or interrupting or delaying a personal future. But my new awareness of God’s perspective on human reality and my growing aspiration to follow Jesus converged with the escalation of the war in Vietnam. Five years of student deferments during my college years gave me time to study and ponder how I would respond as a disciple of Jesus. By the time those deferments ran out, I had become convinced I could not live out my discipleship in the context of military service.
In the summer of 1968, I was ordered to appear for a pre-induction physical in Oakland, California. I had been working at youth summer camps in a couple of Midwestern states, so by the time the letter caught up to me I had only a few days to make arrangement to get to California, and no, I had missed the deadline for requesting a delay or change of location, so I was required to appear. Though they were processing huge numbers every day, each individual’s exam took several hours. For me, spending the better part of a day wearing only undershorts and carrying personal items in a drawstring sack in crowded passageways felt utterly dehumanizing and reinforced the conviction I had already settled, though I still hadn’t determined what to do about it.
My wife, Candy, and I got married on January 25, 1969 and I headed to Wheaton Grad School and began my ministry in Christian education curriculum development and consulting. I began researching and composing my letter to the draft board requesting conscientious objector classification. Then in December 1969, the first lottery was held for the Vietnam War draft. My lottery number was 315, making being drafted in 1970, the only year of my liability after that, highly unlikely. My first reaction was that this made my letter and convictions moot, irrelevant. I wouldn’t be called anyway, so why go through the hassle?
At the time I was working on a Christian education youth curriculum project that was based on Elton Trueblood’s book The New Man for Our Time which had just been published in 1970. (Please remember than a half-century ago we didn’t have the gender sensitivity that is common today, so don’t dismiss it because of Trueblood’s use of “man” to include women and men.) The Quaker “saint” John Woolman (1720-1772) was the model of someone who could think, act, and pray. This prompted me to read John Woolman’s Journal a decade before I had any idea I would live and minister in Mt. Holly, New Jersey, his home town 1980-1997. Two centuries later, John Woolman’s testimony coalesced the thinking I had been doing about what following Jesus implied for all sorts of issues of justice and peace, and confirmed my growing conviction that expressing that to the draft board was essential to my discipleship.
I had grown up, been educated, and was ministering in revivalist, pietistic evangelicalism. Conscientious objection to war was known but not widely affirmed in my circles. In the course of my investigations, I learned that Dwight L. Moody (yes, of Moody Bible Institute, Moody Press, Moody Church)  had been a conscientious objector and refused service in the Union Army during the Civil War, describing himself as “a Quaker” in this respect. Under the auspices of the Christian Commission of the YMCA, Moody made nine visits to the battlefields as a chaplain/evangelist to the wounded, insisting that Confederate soldiers be as well treated as Union soldiers. This anchored my conscientious objector convictions solidly in the evangelical tradition, of which I am an heir.
As a teen, I remember being challenged with the question, “If you were put on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” I wrote my letter requesting conscientious objector classification to the draft board with a sense of establishing solid evidence that I was following Jesus. Also, coming at the height of the Vietnam War, I had to sort out whether I was objecting to this specific unjust war, or to all war – as was required for conscientious objector classification. I concluded that the classic principles of “just war” (paralleled in Deuteronomy 20) precluded participating in any war as a disciple of Jesus. The reply I received was that since my lottery number was so high, they would not process my request as they were fully occupied with other responsibilities. Thus, I was never asked to defend my convictions in that arena. That was both a relief and a disappointment. I knew of those who were not from historic peace churches whose conscientious objector requests were denied, and when they refused military induction were sent to prison. Just into the second year of our marriage and hoping to start a family, I struggled with the prospect of prison before submitting my letter and concluded I had to accept that as a possible consequence of acting on my convictions.
When I was ordained for ministry in 1975, I wrote a paper for the ordination council presenting my faith journey and sense of call to ministry. I included my conscientious objector request in that paper. I also described the profound impact my father had had on my faith and sense of calling. Only after he died and I received his Navy discharge papers did I learn that he had a desire for a ministry career, that probably was impeded by my birth limiting his education and economic options. At my ordination service, my father embraced me with tears in his eyes to tell me how wonderful he felt reading of his influence on me in my ordination paper.
Yes, my father served with the Navy in World War II. He used the terms “corps man” and “medic” to describe his role as a “pharmacist mate.” When I was 10 or 12, I asked him if he could tell me anything heroic so I could brag about him the way some of my friends bragged about their fathers. He told me that he never handled a weapon during his time in the Navy (except one boring afternoon spending some time with his buddies at the firing range). He proudly described his role as “helping to heal the wounds of war.” Back in 1970, before I sent my letter to the draft board, I talked over my conscientious objector request with my father. Though he did not consider himself a pacifist, he affirmed and supported my decision to express my Christian discipleship in this way.
The Baptist General Conference (once known as the Swedish Baptist Conference) in which I grew up was not an historic peace church. However, at the beginning of the 20th century, many young men from “non-conformist” (meaning non-Lutheran) backgrounds came to the United States to avoid being drafted in the European turmoil that became World War I. My father’s father was among them. He and others like him were not necessarily pacifists per se, but did not want to do military service in what they saw as an unholy alliance between the state church and the government.
Though my adult church life and ministry career led me out of the Baptist General Conference, I did not worship with or serve as pastor in historic peace churches. In those years I have learned, at least to some measure, how to have dialog with those who do not embrace my pacifist convictions. I respect and do not judge those who sincerely live out their Christian discipleship in military service. I hope that they have been able to respect without judgment my conscientious objection to war and military service as an expression of sincerely following Jesus. I know I have been strengthened in dialog with these folk and would like to believe they have found our conversations nurturing of their faith in Jesus as well.
In this I believe I am following the example of my mother’s mother. Like Dwight L. Moody, she often expressed respect for Quakers and might well have described herself as a Quaker in regard to violence and war. I do remember her once being dismissed from jury duty because she did not believe in capital punishment. Yet, as many military people were coming and going in the San Francisco/Oakland Bay Area during World War II, my grandparents practiced hospitality, hosting for Sunday dinner military service personnel who came to Lakeside Baptist Church for worship, with a view of helping them in a difficult time in their lives. Of course, one of them was my father. Since he was stationed for an extended period of time at Oak Knoll Navy Hospital, he was at that table long enough for a romance to blossom with my mother.
I must confess that this has been more challenging in my family than in the congregations I have served. My brother-in-law Max still suffers with PTSD from his time in Vietnam. My nephew Tom is a career Navy officer and in my estimation is an admirable example of living as a disciple of Jesus in his marriage, family, church, and yes his Navy career. Some of the issues here are so sensitive, we all are cautious to put priority on loving relationships in the family.
You of Milwaukee Mennonite Church all know David and his commitment to peace and justice. Our oldest son Jon does not consider himself a doctrinaire pacifist. However, after his sophomore year as a mechanical engineering major at Grove City College, he was offered a Navy nuclear scholarship – a high academic honor and financially substantial. Before making his decision he spent an evening with a retired career Navy officer in our church. Much to the surprise of the engineering faculty and fellow students, Jon turned down the scholarship saying that he could not relinquish making his moral decisions to the Navy or the US government. I don’t know that our youngest son Erik has had occasion to consider this the way his brothers have, and his personal spiritual journey is still very much in formation. Nevertheless, he does have an acute sensitivity to issues of peace and justice.
While I have necessarily focused on my conscientious objector journey, I hope you can see how this is inseparable from my intent to live in such continuous awareness of the presence of God that my heart and character are in increasingly congruent harmony with Jesus Christ. I resonate with the prayer of Richard of Chichester (1197-1253) which some of you may know from the musical Godspell.
Thanks be to thee, my Lord Jesus Christ,
for all the benefits thou hast given me,
for all the pains and insults thou hast borne for me.
O most merciful redeemer, friend and brother,
may I know thee more clearly,
love thee more dearly,
and follow thee more nearly, day by day.
Amen.
My Conscientious Objector Witness
Since at least the fourth century many others have studied, pondered, and written about how Christians can and should respond ethically to war. A wide variety of positions have been expounded and critiqued by those who are far brighter and more academically and spiritually qualified than I am. I will not argue for a position to debate with those who disagree with me. Rather, I see this as my witness and testimony to what convinced me, that as one who aspires to follow Jesus as his faithful disciple, to publically and officially declare myself a conscientious objector to war. I will also explore my responses to a few areas of problematic understanding.
On June 24, 2018 Ray Gingrich and I rehearsed our conscientious objector journeys as the worship reflection (sermon) for the people of Milwaukee Mennonite Church. Ray’s story comes from within the Mennonite historic peace church tradition. Though my family and church background brought some precedent to my convictions, I made my journey without the guidance and support of an historic peace church. The United States requires men to register for the Selective Service System after their 18th birthday, even when there is no active draft. I have 18 and 16 year old grandsons and 20 and 11 year old granddaughters. I respect and celebrate that our society recognizes they those over 18 have adequate maturity to vote. At the same time, my retrospective on my own journey suggests that whether and why to go or refuse to go to war was way beyond what I was prepared for at 18. I had five student deferments and used those years to study in preparation for the time I would be compelled to decide on my path. As it turned out I was 23 when I officially requested conscientious objector classification. I was certainly better prepared then than I had been at 18. Having said that, now at 71 my convictions are both stronger and more sophisticated. I am not going to try to reconstruct my thinking at 18 or 23 years of age, as though I could. Rather, I am presenting my lifetime of reflection on my journey with Jesus in our violent world.
The Bible is a diverse collection of writings by a number of different people in a wide variety of cultural contexts and diverse ethical challenges. It is not a handbook in which a reader can look up a topic or issue and find step by step instructions of exactly what to do in any and all circumstances, as much as that might seem more comfortable for us. Understanding and applying the Bible to our time and place requires responsible scholarship, prayerful study, and sensitivity to the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Please understand, I don’t think that means it is subjective and we can make of it whatever we want. I affirm most vigorously that I consider the Bible to be inspired by God, reliable in what it teaches, and authoritative for our lives as disciples of Jesus. Living by faith embraces this apparent ambiguity with confidence that the Holy Spirit guides us even when we are uncertain, and that Christ’s grace sustains us even when we stumble and wander on the journey.
Jesus in the Gospels
Even before I formulated the specific statement in 2003, my life has been guided by my intent to live in such continuous awareness of the presence of God that my heart and character are in increasingly congruent harmony with Jesus Christ. As I said in the reflection I shared with Ray Gingrich and Milwaukee Mennonite Church, I experienced a sort of spiritual coming of age as a high school senior in 1964. Though I know I have not always been as fervent or consistent about it as I wish, my aspiration for the past 53 years has been to follow Jesus as faithfully as I could depending on the Holy Spirit for both strength and guidance. Thus, my conscientious objector convictions depend on and are a direct expression of my longing to follow Jesus.
Through those years I have had a daily soak in the Gospels with the hope of becoming so saturated with Jesus that I will increasingly think and act as he did. Military service would not have been even available to Jesus as a Galilean Jew in Roman occupied Palestine. Not only is imagining Jesus in a Roman military unit unthinkable, he certainly would not have participated in the Jewish temple police and their harassment of sincere worshippers. This may be dismissed as an argument from silence that makes Jesus’ example irrelevant to our society and world. Nevertheless, Jesus’ teaching and the way he treated even those who opposed him, is incongruous with Jesus using lethal force on another person who was the legitimate recipient of his love as one bearing the image of God.
I find the beatitude of Matthew 5:9 to be a controlling mandate for all of us who follow Jesus. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” I know that centuries of military propaganda has attached the word “peacemaker” to various weapons and campaigns, which seems tantamount to blasphemy to me. If I am to follow Jesus, I must pursue peacemaking in daily personal relationships, in the political debates of our country, and by my conscientious objection to war. This is more than just doing what Jesus told us to do; being peacemakers grows from and expresses being children of God. Peacemaking is both at the core of Jesus’ identity and the heart of the character of God.
Peace echoes through Jesus’ life from birth to resurrection. The prophecy of Isaiah 9:6 that is applied to the birth of Jesus (Luke 1:32-33) calls the child to be born “the prince of peace.” Zechariah’s prophecy at the birth of John the Baptist affirms that the one John will introduce, Jesus, will “guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:79) Paul used the phrase “way of peace” in Romans 3:17 alluding to Isaiah 59:8. When the angels announced the birth of Jesus to the shepherds, they proclaimed peace on earth. (Luke 2:14). The angels’ words are echoed in the praise of those who welcomed Jesus on Palm Sunday, “Peace in heaven.” (Luke 19:38) Luke recorded Jesus weeping as he approached Jerusalem that day, lamenting, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!” (Luke 19:42) When Jesus sent out the Twelve (Matthew 101ff; Mark 3:13ff; Luke 9:1ff) and the Seventy-two (Luke 10:1ff) they were to bless each house where they stayed with peace, and if the peace was not accepted, they were to move on apparently without confrontation. To prepare his disciples for his crucifixion, Jesus gave them the blessing of his peace. (John 14:27; 16:33) When the risen Jesus greeted his disciples he blessed them saying, “Peace be with you.” (Luke  29:36; John 20:19,21,26)
Perhaps the most challenging of Jesus’ teachings is that we are to love our enemies. (Matthew 5:43-48; Luke 6:27-35) Jesus’ explanations not only gave this mandate an extraordinarily high profile, but he made it congruent with the character of God. If we are going to grow toward becoming like God, we must love our enemies. The Apostle Paul affirmed this in Romans 12:17-21 “If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ No, ‘if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” This is clearly not a clever means of magnifying revenge, but relinquishing revenge to God. I know some would like to limit this to personal enemies and suggest it doesn’t apply to a nation’s military enemies. For me, I must affirm that I cannot seek to injure or kill even the most heinous enemy in the name of Jesus.
In Matthew 8 and Luke 7 a Roman centurion sought Jesus’ healing for a servant/slave whom he valued and apparently loved. Jesus did the healing at a distance, commenting that even in Israel he had not seen such faith. (Matthew 8:10; Luke 7:9) But Jesus made no comment on his keeping a slave nor did he suggest he should get out of the Roman army. Sometimes those silences are interpreted as approval of slavery and military service. My own understanding is that this is an amazing window into how Jesus practiced his own teaching of loving enemies. Keep in mind that the Roman soldiers, including this centurion, were a foreign army occupying Palestine as a captured territory. They were roundly hated and feared. Jesus did not lay out criteria required before he would heal. He loved this enemy and commended his faith.
A similar concern arose when Peter was sent to Cornelius in Acts 10. God gave Peter a vision and a calling to go to the home of Cornelius. Not only a Gentile whom the Jewish Christians considered unclean, he also was a hated soldier of the occupying Roman army, clearly an enemy. Peter’s sermon is not just a proclamation of the Gospel to these Gentile enemies, it was also a message to himself and his companions that Jesus’ mandate to love their enemies was going to be more radical and far reaching than they imagined. Once again, Peter made no mention of getting out of the Roman army. A careful reading of the story reveals that the Holy Spirit had already been working incognito on Cornelius, so he and his household were primed and ready for the Gospel. The ones who were being transformed and taken to a new level of loving their enemies, even acknowledging them as equal disciples of Jesus with them, were Peter and his companions. This encounter could not have helped but change the way Cornelius responded to all of the Jewish folk he dealt with every day. He would no longer be able to think of them as enemies either.
In Luke 3:14 some soldiers came to John the Baptist and asked him what they should do. These were probably not soldiers of the Roman army but Jews recruited, perhaps by Herod, to maintain internal security. They might well have been hated, not as occupiers but as traitors. Again some commentators point out that John did not tell them to quit being soldiers. Instead he gave these rather demanding instructions. “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.” Apparently these sorts of soldiers had a reputation for what we call police brutality (nothing new under the sun), abusing their power in violent ways for their own profit, which connects with being satisfied with their wages. Again I would contend that by giving them a gentle response with reasonable expectations, John was living out the love of enemies even before Jesus spoke it.
In contrast with the instructions to the Twelve and the Seventy-two, before leaving for the garden where he will be arrested, in Luke 22:36 Jesus told the disciples to buy a sword. When they show him that they have two swords, Jesus said, “It is enough.” (v. 38) Presumably it was one of those swords with which one of them cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant. Jesus responded, “No more of this!” (Luke 22:51) “All who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (Matthew 26:52) and Jesus touched the ear and healed it (Luke 22:51) While the context here makes interpreting Jesus instruction to buy a sword difficult, that he said two were enough and then rebuked its use and healed its harm prevents justifying military violence by this incident.
Sometimes Jesus driving the money changers out of the Temple (Matthew 21; Mark 11; Luke 19) is also used as a justification for the use of force. Only John 2:15 mentioned Jesus making a whip out of cords, and even then he did not use it on people but for driving the animals out of the Temple. Since John records this at the beginning of his Gospel while the synoptics put it right after the Triumphal Entry as a trigger for his crucifixion, there has been debate whether Jesus did this once or twice, with the whip only the first time. John is the least chronological of the Gospels, and he too connects this incident with opposition to Jesus associated with his death. In all of the accounts Jesus goes on teaching the people after driving out the distractions of sales and animals. Jesus clearly did not organize his disciples into a vigilante militia to clear the Temple, but did this so he could teach, most provocatively to be sure.
For me, Jesus’ responses to those who arrested, tried, and crucified him are the ultimate expression of his teaching and example of loving enemies that underlies my conscientious objection ethic of non-violence. Jesus’ prayer as he was being nailed to the cross speaks volumes.  “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34) Even more directly pointed at the military service of human governments is Jesus’ answer to Pilate in John 18:36. “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” John the Baptist had announced that the Kingdom of God was near, (Matthew 3:2) which Jesus picked up on to introduce his teaching (Matthew 4:17). He had been teaching and living this kingdom and now he would die as the climactic manifestation of that kingdom. So as Jesus’ disciple, I will not be fighting in the realm of human kingdoms.
New Testament Church
As the Gospel spread and the Church grew beyond the Jewish environs of Palestine, the encounters with the Roman Empire increased and the interaction with the Jewish Temple and synagogue authorities waned. The Church became a community in which not only Jews and Gentiles lived together, but people of all levels of hierarchal Roman society were welcomed into a single, egalitarian community. As Paul wrote, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28) “There is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all!” (Colossians 3:11) The powerful theology behind this is expounded in Ephesians 2:14-17. “For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near.” Christ has made peace through the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:20) The Church was a society of peace in which enemies are reconciled and unified in Christ. Thus, every enemy is a potential sister or brother, which whom I live in peace as Jesus’ representative.
Peter introduced his sermon to Cornelius’ household saying they were “preaching peace by Jesus Christ,” (Acts 10:36) which Ephesians 6:15 describes as “the gospel of peace.” The Epistles repeatedly urged the pursuit of peace. While a direct concern was peace among themselves in the Church, the pursuit of peace was clearly broadened to include the outsiders with whom they interacted daily. These admonitions were so frequent that they must be considered to be essential and central to following Jesus together as his disciples. I do not believe I could be faithful to this calling by military service that necessarily seeks harm to the enemies. Romans 12:18; 14:17,19; 2 Corinthians 13:11; Ephesians 4:3; Colossians 3:15; 1 Thessalonians  5:15; 2 Timothy 2:22; Hebrews 12:14; 1 Peter 3:11 And Galatians 5:22 includes peace as part of the fruit of the Spirit. And James 3:17-18 says, “wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.”
God is referred to as the God of peace in 1 Corinthians 14:33; 1 Thessalonians 5:23, and Hebrews 13:20. Hebrews 7:2 refers to the mysterious figure of Melchizedek who is considered a pointer to or pre-incarnate presence of Christ as “king of peace.” In both opening greetings and closing benedictions, almost all of the Epistles invoke peace for their readers. These allusions to peace are not a theological or ethical formula for responding to war. However, to me they are so ubiquitous as to show just how central Jesus’ call to be peace makers and to love enemies was for the New Testament Church. The image of the broken down dividing wall is theologically foundational to a peace saturated life together.
Romans 13:1-7 is critically important to guiding Christians’ responses to government orders to go to war. It is often interpreted to mean that being a faithful Christians requires obeying government orders to war as an extension of understanding this passage as an almost blanket endorsement of government authority. To get a more sophisticated grasp of the principles here starts by recognizing that at the time Paul wrote this, Nero was the Roman Emperor. Before long, the Roman Empire had imprisoned Paul and other Christians as a danger to the state, and eventually the Roman Empire beheaded Paul and crucified Peter upside down in the presence of the Emperor. Thus, I would suggest that however Romans 13:1-7 is understood, it must be equally applicable when government is friendly or hostile to Christians, whether the government respects basic human dignity or is a brutal totalitarian regime.
Romans 13:1-7 does not specifically address a government order to go to war. It is more broadly about respect for and purpose of government. Paul and the other early Christians certainly did not cease and desist from preaching the Gospel in response to government orders. Paul not only accepted prison as a consequence of Gospel proclamation, he regarded it as an opportunity to bring the Gospel to unexpected, hard to reach people. He wrote in Philippians 1:13 “that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to everyone else that my imprisonment is for Christ.” As with Jesus and the Centurion and Peter with Cornelius, Paul makes no mention of hoping they would quit the imperial guard. He only rejoiced that they knew that he was imprisoned for Christ and thus the Gospel. Therefore, I believe that going to prison for refusing military service is in keeping with Romans 13:1-7, submitting to the consequences imposed by the government authority. When I accepted that my conscientious objector position could land me in prison, I similarly hoped that it would be known that it was in Christ’s name for refusing to participate in the killing.
Apostolic responses to imprisonment are intriguing. In Acts 12:7-11 an angel leads Peter out of Herod’s prison, after which Herod had the guards executed (v. 19). When Paul and Silas were in prison in Philippi in Acts 16:25-34, an earthquake shook open the prison doors, and the jailer expecting he would be executed for allowing prisoners to escape was ready to kill himself (v. 27). I think that if I had been with Paul, I would have taken the opening of the doors by the earthquake as a sign from God to get out of there as fast and far away as possible. However, Paul and Silas not only stayed but seem to have convinced the other prisoners to stay as well (v. 28). The result was the Gospel was preached to the jailer’s household who undoubtedly strengthened the fledgling Philippian church, though nothing is said about whether he quit his job as a jailer.
 A corollary to Romans 13:1-7 is Paul’s writing in 1 Timothy 2:1-3 “that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity. This is right and is acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” Paul had no illusions about the Emperor coming to faith in Christ, though he would have acknowledged it as a positive possibility. The goal of praying for those in high positions was that the Church could lead quiet and peaceable lives in all godliness and dignity so the Gospel could spread.
I expect Paul based Romans 13:1-7 on Jesus’ answer when he was questioned about paying taxes. “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s.” (Matthew 22:21; Mark 12:17; Luke 20:25) I would contend that matters of conscience, such as killing in war, are between me and God, not the government. This is exactly in keeping with what Peter and John said in Acts 4:19-20, “Whether it is right in God’s sight to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge; for we cannot keep from speaking about what we have seen and heard.” And Peter and the Apostles said in Acts 5:29, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.” I know some have argued that in these instances Peter was addressing religious authorities and Romans 13 means that this principle doesn’t apply to government orders. I am unwilling to put secular authorities over God’s spiritual authority.
The New Testament epistles use some military metaphors recognizing that following Jesus engages us in spiritual struggle, more subtle and profound than the various depictions of the battle between good and evil in many artistic expressions. Perhaps the best known is the description of the Armor of God in Ephesians 6:10-18, which is also echoed in Romans 13:12 and 1 Thessalonians 5:8. Paul wrote to Timothy about fighting the good fight (1Timothy 1:18; 6:12; 2 Timothy 4:7) and he urged the young Timothy to “share in suffering like a good soldier of Christ Jesus,” aiming “to please the enlisting officer.” (2 Timothy 2:3-4). Nothing suggests that Timothy or other readers of these epistles wore the armor of or was a Roman soldier, but in their world, they understood how these metaphors taught how to approach the spiritual struggles that came with following Jesus. The having feet shod for proclaiming the Gospel of Peace, harked back to the beautiful feet of those who announce peace in Isaiah 52:7.
As if just to be sure we are understand that this is a spiritual and not a human military battle, the armor of God is because “our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” Yes, the spiritual struggle is played out in human affairs, which is why my allegiance is only to Jesus, undiluted and uncompromised by even the most noble seeming human loyalties. As 1 Corinthians 10:21 says, “You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons. You cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons.” Please understand, I am not labeling the United States or any other country as intrinsically demonic but the essential exclusivity of loyalty to Jesus in the inevitability of spiritual struggle. As Abba Agathon said in the 4th century, “Prayer is warfare to the last breath.”
Hebrew Scriptures
Investigating the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament) brings a host of different issues for consideration. War and other violence permeate the history of ancient Israel, some of which is presented as directed and authorized by God. By modern standards, much of it would be considered to be genocidal ethnic cleansing and destruction of culture. Addressing that in and of itself would take me far afield from my purpose in this writing. I have explored that to some degree in my essay about honestly dealing with the violence in the Bible in light of contemporary concerns about the violence in the Quran and in the name of Islam on the world stage. You may find it at http://nstolpewriting.blogspot.com/2016/05/addressing-violence-in-bible-in-light.html
What is pertinent to my conscientious objector witness is how the realities of war and military action in the Hebrew Scriptures inform me as a follower of Jesus in my own time and context. I cannot just dismiss it as irrelevant because it was in the Old Testament. While differences of culture, circumstances, and context are important, they are not impervious boundaries sealing one dispensation (if that’s even a suitable word or concept) from another undermining the essential integrity of Scripture.
The Hebrew occupation of the “Promised Land” goes back to the call of Abraham in Genesis 12. The specific prophecy of Abraham’s descendants returning to the land after four generations in Egypt, includes this cryptic phrase, “the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete.” (Genesis 15:16) Without getting too deeply into the puzzles of God’s mercy and judgment, this does suggest that God was giving the longtime residents of the land a gracious opportunity to repent of their wickedness, while knowing that they would persist in their evil, so Israel would be God’s instrument of justice. This does not make Israel inherently righteous. A parallel can be found in the prophecy of Habakkuk, which I would summarize this way (read it all to understand it for yourself). Habakkuk complained to God about the injustices rampant in the land of Judah. God replied that the Chaldeans (Babylonians) were being prepared to bring God’s judgment on Judah. Habakkuk complained that “they are even worse than we are,” to which God replied, not to worry, someone else (the Persians) would be ready to bring judgment on the Chaldeans at the right time. The philosophy of history in Habakkuk can be understood as an equilibrium of justice, and when injustice gets far enough out of balance, God will use the flow of events and powers in world history to work out justice, which is always fluid and shifting.
Thus, God could, and it seems did, use Israel to address the evils and injustices that were rampant among the people in the land promised to Abraham, without necessarily endorsing everything about Israel as righteous and just. The evils and injustices were not new then and persisted for centuries into the history of Israel and Judah, and prompted God to work judgment on them through Assyria and Babylon. Oppression of the poor, rampant violence, sexual oppression and infidelity, idolatry, religious prostitution, human sacrifice, and inhospitality to foreigners were common sorts of practices. To me, this suggests a way of understanding warfare in human history as cycles of violent rejection of God’s call to peace in which the conclusion of each war bears the seeds of the next war.
When Israel had left slavery in Egypt and stood with the sea in front of them and Pharaoh’s army closing in from behind, Moses said to them, “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.” (Exodus 14:13-14) The concept of God fighting Israel’s battles seems also to be suggested at the defeat of Jericho (Joshua 6) and Gideon’s army with torches and pitchers (Judges 7). Yes, it is true that the Israelite soldiers still had to pursue the battle and kill, but God’s role gives it a different feel than other conventional battles. Regardless of how far that idea can be pushed, I would contend that no government of Israel or Judah or any other country after the Babylonian Exile (including the United States and modern Israel) has any legitimate claim to a divine mandate to engage in war. Sure, wars continue, and in God’s sovereignty over history, the equilibrium of justice is kept in some degree of balance.
Until the time of King Saul, Israel did not have a standing army or stockpile of weaponry. The pattern presented in the book of Judges was that as long as Israel was faithful to God, God protected them from external enemies. But when Israel wandered from God, God allowed local enemies to rise up and oppress them. Then God would raise up a leader who would recruit a temporary fighting force to liberate Israel from their oppressors. They would have peace until complacency left them vulnerable to straying from God’s ways, and the cycle would repeat. These were not battles with major powers and did not involve all of Israel but specific tribes in limited locations on an ad hoc basis to address the invasion and occupation by a neighboring rival. 1Samuel 8 tells how Israel demanded that Samuel appoint a king for them so they could be like the other nations and fight their battles. God’s word to Samuel is clear that this is a sign that they had rejected God (v. 7). Then at God’s instruction, Samuel told them what having a king would cost them (vv. 11-18). To maintain a standing army, the king will conscript (draft) their children, raise their taxes, and confiscate their property.
In counterpoint to this reality of war is a deep longing for a peace brought by the reign of God. The image of the Peaceable Kingdom in Isaiah 11 is the vivid touchstone for this hope. “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (vv. 6-9) For me, spiritualizing the longing for peace expressed by the Hebrew Prophets or postponing it to an almost mythical messianic (millennial?) kingdom is a rationalization that undermines the very message of hope and ultimately the Gospel of Jesus.
Some of the Psalms appeal to God for strength in battle. God “He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.” (18:34) God is “the one who gives victory to kings.” (144:10)  Others acknowledge that security does not come from military power but only from God. “A king is not saved by his great army; a warrior is not delivered by his great strength. The war horse is a vain hope for victory, and by its great might it cannot save.” (33:16-17) “Not by their own sword did they win the land, nor did their own arm give them victory; but your right hand, and your arm, and the light of your countenance, for you delighted in them.” (44:3) The Psalms are filled with longing for peace and pronounce peace as a common blessing, much as the New Testament Epistles do. “May the Lord bless his people with peace! (29:11) “May righteousness flourish and peace abound, until the moon is no more.” (72:7) The Psalms even exhort the pursuit of peace. “Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it.” 34:14 “Too long have I had my dwelling among those who hate peace. I am for peace; but when I speak, they are for war.” (120:6-7)
The Church in History
The Roman Empire treated the Church with hostility or indifference for its first three centuries. Very few Christians participated in the Roman military. When Constantine was engaged in the battle that would insure his becoming the Emperor, he claimed or believed he saw a sign of a cross or chi rho in the sky and heard a voice say, “In the sign conquer.” Whatever that was, he adopted his own understanding of Christianity as his religion of conquest and the god who would give him victory. On assuming power, he declared Christianity legal and eventually the religion of the Empire. Soldiers were “baptized” by edict and declared “Christian.” This introduced a totally different way of thinking about war and military service for the Church.
This dilemma is well illustrated in the life of Martin of Tours (d. 397). He was a Roman soldier who after continuing in military service for some time claimed that as a “soldier of Christ: it is not lawful for me to fight.” He was charged with cowardice and jailed. In response, he volunteered to go unarmed ahead of the troops. The officers were ready to do that when a peace was settled, and Martin was released from military service. Martin of Tours is known as patron saint of both soldiers and conscientious objectors. This ambiguity about Martin points to the ambiguous and self-contradictory attitudes about war and military service since the time of Constantine.
Starting with the Desert Fathers and Mothers in the 4th century, monastic communities kept the Church’s peace witness alive from Constantine until the rise of the Anabaptists in the time of the Reformation. Victims of all manner of violence found refuge in the monasteries spawned by Benedict of Nursia (480-574). As a young man, Francis of Assisi (1181/1182-1226) sought adventure as a soldier, but when he gave himself to fully following Jesus, he and those who followed him not only relinquished all violence but even at great personal risk sought to broker peace. This is evident in the prayer attributed to Francis that begins, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.” Perhaps the pinnacle of Francis’ peacemaking efforts was his visit with Sultan al-Kamil in 1219, during the Fifth Crusade, in Egypt. Details are legendary but seem to have grown out of a real event in which Francis crossed the battle lines and was given safe passage back by the Sultan. Though it didn’t end the fighting, legend says that after Francis departed, the Sultan told those around him that if all Christians were like Francis, he’d consider becoming one.  (Unlike Benedict, Francis didn’t intend to start a movement, but only follow Jesus, and he’d certainly be appalled that a movement bears his name.)  Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556) had been a career soldier and had both legs broken by a cannon ball in 1521. While recovering from surgery after this injury he had a religious conversion. At first he sought to find a way to use his spiritual energy in the service of the king and a royal lady, with whom he was in love, but only found joy and peace by following the example of Francis and devoting himself to following Jesus. In 1539 he formed The Society of Jesus (Jesuits) which was a force in the Counter-Reformation. Today Protestants and Catholics alike make use of his Spiritual Exercises, and the Jesuits have often been a voice for peace in the world. The motion picture The Mission portrays (without attempting historical accuracy) the Jesuit passion for peace and justice in the character of Rodrigo Mendoza, whose journey from soldier to peace agent parallels that of Ignatius.
As Christendom developed out of Constantine’s coopting a distorted Christianity as the religion of the empire, its armies were not only deployed against those who were perceived to be hostile to this religion, such as Barbarians and Muslims, the so-called Christian princes waged war against each other. Out of concern for the unity and prosperity of both church and empire, theologians explored and formulated a “just war” ethic. They were particularly concerned to bring the recurrent wars between the rival “Christian” princes of Europe under control. Interestingly, they drew heavily on pagan, especially Greek, antiquity more than Scripture. Though the tone is markedly different, the seven classic principles of just war are paralleled in Deuteronomy 20.
In theory, today’s democracies and the international community have based their understandings of war on these classic principles. However, applying them in practice is far more complex and convoluted. The Nuremberg Trials (1945-1949) which were intended to bring Nazi war criminals to justice drew on them. A central principle of Nuremberg was that “following orders” does not exempt even the most ordinary soldier from moral responsibility in warfare. One who believes an order is unjust or immoral is expected, even required, to disobey that order. One implication of that is that the classic just war ethic demands that government allow for selective conscientious objection. That is that ordinary citizens and soldiers must object to and refuse service in wars they believe are unjust. To my knowledge no government has or would ever allow that. The US conscientious objection laws require rejection of all war. For me, this meant that even if I espoused the principles of just war ethics, I would still have to object to all wars since I was denied the moral responsibility to discern what was just and unjust. As I examined just war ethics in light of both history and current armed conflicts, I concluded that a consistent application of the just war principles precluded my participation in any war.
Though just war ethics are expressed in a variety of ways, I think Arthur Holmes summarized them well in his 1975 book War and Christian Ethics (pp 4-5).
·         Just Cause: The only morally legitimate reason for going to war is self-defense.
·         Just Intent: The only morally legitimate goal in war is the restoration of peace, with justice for both friend and foe.
·         Last Resort: War should be entered upon only when all other paths fail.
·         Lawful Declaration: Only lawful governments have the right to initiate war. It is never the prerogative of individuals or parties within the state.
·         Immunity of Non-combatants: Those not officially serving as agents of government in its use of force (POWs, medical personnel, etc.) should not be permitted to fight or subjected to violence. Certainly, civilians should be protected.
·         Limited Objectives: With the purpose of peace, unconditional surrender and destruction of the enemy’s economy or political institutions are unwarranted objectives.
·         Limited Means: Only sufficient force should be used to resist violence and restore peace.
As I wrote in my “Conscientious Objector Journey,” I was aware of precedents in my family and church for my growing conviction that to follow Jesus called me to embrace peacemaking and refuse participation in war.  Nevertheless, outside of the historic peace church traditions, evangelicals during the Vietnam War era were more supportive of those who enlisted than of conscientious objectors. Yet, there were voices such as Jim Wallis, John Alexander, and Ron Sider who articulated a peace witness from a distinctly evangelical perspective. Through them I learned that Dwight L. Moody had been a conscientious objector (that legal language was not exactly in place at the time) during the Civil War and refused to enlist in the Union Army, describing himself as a Quaker in this respect. I can’t imagine he didn’t know about Anabaptists who would have been closer theological kin to him than Quakers, but the witness for peace was real. During the Civil War Moody visited prisons, hospitals, and battlefields as an evangelist and chaplain (though he didn’t claim that title) and even put himself at some risk to serve wounded soldiers from both Union and Confederate Armies. He insisted that the Confederate wounded receive the same quality of medical care as Union soldiers. He also advocated for more humane conditions in the prisons where Confederate captives were held. Moody Bible Institute, Moody Church, and Moody Press were held in high esteem among evangelicals (which continues today), and discovering how Dwight L. Moody put his peace convictions into action assured me that my convictions also shared the same evangelical rooting.
World War II is frequently presented as the irrefutable argument against conscientious objection. It has sometimes been called “the last good war.” The justice of freeing the world from the Nazi/Fascist menace was undeniable and obvious to all, even if some of the specific ways it was waged did not come up to the highest standards of just war ethics. It shaped the United States as well as Europe and the whole world to be what we recognize today. The “greatest generation” came home after the war to build an unprecedented suburban America that fuels the nostalgia that presumes to make the 1950s into a norm of greatness that we’d long to continue indefinitely. Exploring the persistent power of that nostalgia is beyond the scope of this writing. I only mention it because it confirms the importance of World War II as a defining moment in understanding attitudes about war.
It is personally defining for me as well since my father served in the US Navy during that war. He was a medic (at this point precise military labels are beside the point) who first served at Oak Knoll Naval Hospital in Oakland, CA. They were generally caring for the wounded from the Pacific Theater. During that time he met and ultimately married my mother. After their wedding, he went to Okinawa to prepare to receive the wounded from the as yet unannounced but still anticipated invasion of the main island of Japan, knowing the casualty rate would be extraordinarily high. With the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the war ended and the invasion never came. As I alluded to in “My Conscientious Objector Journey,” at about 10-12 years old I asked my Dad to tell me some war story of his heroism I could share with my friends who were bragging about their fathers. His reply stunned and stuck with me. He told me that he had never handled a weapon during his Navy service (except one boring afternoon of target shoot at the rifle range on Okinawa). He made a point of telling me that he chose medical duty because he wanted to have at least a small part in healing some of the wounds of war. He gently let me know that the kind of celebration of heroism I was asking for was not appropriate.
As I got older and had to consider my own response to war, his words definitely influenced how I thought about World War II. I do want to affirm how important it was for the world to reject the Nazi/Fascist threat. As I learned about the just war ethic, I recognized that the Allies did not always follow those principles (e.g. the firebombing of Dresden). I know some would say they could not and should not have even considered them in view of what was at stake. I am neither a World War II (or any kind of) historian, nor am I a trained ethicist, so I will refrain from getting in over my head in waters that others can navigate far better than I. What I do think is important is that I had to deal with this profound, life-changing ethical challenge as a quite young adult (from 18 to 23 years old). We knew there was internal opposition to the Nazis in Germany. Though the Allies gave some support, I questioned whether it might not have been done in a more effective and ethical way. Could not people of conscience in Germany and Germany’s neighbors have been a great moral and political force that would have changed the course of history into a less tragic direction? I know the supporters of the Allied military action in World War II would answer with a resounding “No!” But I believe the question yet remains.
As I mentioned earlier, I determined that the conclusion of my ethical pursuit would have to be as applicable in a totalitarian state as in a democratic country to be considered universal. That brought me to consider what could have guided me if I had been the kind of follower of Jesus I then (and now) aspired to be and lived in Nazi Germany? Studying German as a language in high school, I had encountered the White Rose movement, their leaflets, and their martyrs: Sophie and Hans Scholl, and Christoph Probst. I have been rereading those leaflets and rediscovering their eloquent power. That Sophie and Hans Scholl, and Christoph Probst were executed so promptly on their arrest attests to just how afraid the Nazis were of these young people and their seven essays. Certainly there would have been other executions, but I have to believe that widespread distribution of these leaflets and the nourishment of other non-violent resistance groups could have brought the Nazi regime to its knees, as Gandhi’s salt march did to the British Empire.
Because my concern was principally in following Jesus as faithfully as I possibly could, my considerations of Germany in the World War II era, naturally brought me to the witness of the Confessing Church and the Barmen Declaration. I find their experience and legacy profoundly enduring and instructive. They struggled mightily with how to respond to the Nazis. Though there were some Anabaptist in Germany (some such as the Bruderhof were expelled so as not to be a challenge to the regime), the Confessing Church was composed of Lutheran and Reformed people who opposed the Nazis. They were accustomed to the state church model and debated among themselves how far they could go in opposing the government. They did not have a pacifist tradition, and wrestled with how to respond to a war they considered evil. Not wanting to be identified as either pacifist Anabaptists (long history there) or as unpatriotic, many of their military age pastors served in the German Army. The Confessing Church maintained a circular letter to encourage them to remain true to Christ even as they served. The Nazi government did penalize some who received and distributed these letters. They were not nearly as confrontational as the White Rose leaflets, but they still frightened the Nazis.
The Theological Declaration of Barmen directly confronted the Nazi regime on theological grounds in confessional form that Lutheran and Reformed churches were accustomed to. The confrontation was played out as an ecclesiastical struggle between the German Christians led by Reichsbischof Ludwig Müller and the Confessing Church. In the course of this, the leaders of the Confessing Church felt compelled to have a greater impact on what they increasingly recognized as the evil of the Nazi regime, and engaged in a variety of ways of trying to influence events. They debated the ethics of things that might impede government and military activity. They debated the boundaries of what was legal and ethical. There were interactions with a group that made an attempt on Hitler’s life, and debated the morality of tyrannicide. Technically Dietrich Bonhoeffer was executed for participating in the plot on Hitler’s life, though whether and how much he was involved is still unclear, as is the opinion as to whether that would be justified in the name of Jesus. That charge gave the Nazis a way of eliminating Bonhoeffer, who was increasingly troublesome to them, with or without the plot. As I investigated the Confessing Church, I concluded with appreciation for their struggling, that for me to follow Jesus, I would have to opt out of the government military mechanism as a conscientious objector.
Challenges from the Culture
I have discussed the ethics of war with several retired US military officers in the congregations I have served. The general response to the just war principles has been that while those are what we might hope for, war is inherently unjust but a necessary reality; we try to do the best we can. In my conversations with a variety of people about my conscientious objector convictions, I regularly encounter what are seen as more pragmatic than theological challenges.
“If everyone was refused to fight, our country would be vulnerable to any sort of foreign attack and overrun by the most vicious.” This objection is predicated on the assumption that the military is actually what keeps a nation safe. I suppose a case might be made that this might apply to an ad hoc force raised up to repel an invasion, but I would suggest that a standing military actually endangers us as it become a temptation for politicians to deploy it for all sorts of reasons beyond self-defense. I would suggest that the ambition to be a super-power (a post-World War II, Cold War invention) invites attacks from countries who resent being dominated and the playing out of super-power rivalries by proxy wars.
“By being a conscientious objector you are exercising a personal freedom that is protected by those who do military service, which takes unfair advantage of those who take the risks of military service on your behalf.” As in the previous paragraph, I must say I don’t feel that military might protects my conscience. Rather, without implying anything about someone else’s conscience, I believe that being compelled to violate my conscience out of supposed fairness undermines the integrity of those who would impose their convictions on someone else.
“Presentations of the ethics of conscientious objection are little more than rationalizations for cowardice or just unwillingness to be inconvenienced by military service.” Historically, US conscientious objectors have gone to prison.  In World War I, US conscientious objectors could be assigned non-combat military roles, but about 2,000 who refused even that were sent to federal prisons subjected to short rations, solitary confinement and physical abuse. Due to farm labor shortage, some of them were released to as farm workers. In World War II about 12,000 conscientious objectors were given alternate service in 152 Civilian Public Service Camps. Certainly accepting prison as an act of conscience requires courage, and some of the non-combat and even alternate service roles still put conscientious objectors in harm’s way. Though it did not come about and was probably unlikely, I did accept the possibility of prison or dangerous alternate service (not to mention being the target of criticism and ridicule) as possible consequences of requesting conscientious objector classification. I don’t know that I labeled it courage, but I knew it was not cowardice.
My Peace Witness
If you have gotten to this point, you know what my convictions are. I will conclude with a summary assertion and a sort of a disclaimer.
Though it is the theological rationale for capital punishment in the Hebrew Scriptures, Genesis 9:6 informs not just my conscientious objector convictions, but a much broader life stance. “Whoever sheds the blood of a human, by a human shall that person’s blood be shed; for in his own image God made humankind.” I don’t want to get sidetracked into the capital punishment debates but only recognize how seriously taking another person’s life is. The point being made here, early in Genesis, is that because humans are made in the image of God, killing another person is tantamount to attacking God – deicide.
On that basis, along with all of the other things I have expressed here, I am convinced that killing another person is spiritually far more dangerous than being killed. As a follower of Jesus I can think of plenty of things worth dying for, but precious few that are worth killing for. I will refrain from giving examples of either so as not to get distracted by debating specifics.
I am also acutely aware that my perspective is a minority view, not only in the country but also among Christian folk in the US. I have not written this with any intent or expectation of changing anyone’s mind or to in any way belittle or attack anyone else’s convictions. I respect without judgment those who purposely live out their Christian discipleship in military service, but I am compelled to assert that I could not do that.
I take guidance for this from Romans 14:5 where Paul wrote, “Let all be fully convinced in their own minds.” I do ask that those who disagree with me that they respect that I am sincerely and fully convinced. One of the challenges of becoming “fully convinced” is that you start to think everyone else should be similarly convinced. Paul was writing about issues that were debated among Christians of his day. Any number of variations among Christians today can also be identified as debatable issues. Again, I will refrain from prompting a distracting debate by listing today’s debatable issues. Often when someone becomes fully convinced, they have a hard time accepting the specific issue as debatable any longer.
Some of my Anabaptist friends are cringing because conscientious objection is such a settled conviction in their circles. Now that I am an active part of Milwaukee Mennonite Church, even preaching in worship, I suppose I might be perceived as weakening their stance with my attitude toward those who accept military service. And some of my non-peace church friends are may be fuming at the way I have handled Scripture and feel I have betrayed my family and my country. Yes, over the years I have found being in this sort of no-one’s land challenging if not frustrating. I must say, especially with my pastoral ministry, I have benefited from respectful conversations about war with convinced military people. I hope I have strengthened their thoughtful reflection on their own discipleship. To those with both of these reactions to what I have written, I say whether you think conscientious objection to war is a legitimately debatable issue among Christians, it is definitely being debated.
So I come back to where I started, not only for myself but for all for whom I care deeply. My principle concern is for all with whom I have relationships of love and ministry is that we all will be guided by our intent to live in such continuous awareness of the presence of God that our hearts and characters are in increasingly congruent harmony with Jesus Christ. For myself and all of us, I echo again the prayer of Richard of Chichester (1197-1253).
Thanks be to thee, my Lord Jesus Christ,
for all the benefits thou hast given me,
for all the pains and insults thou hast borne for me.
O most merciful redeemer, friend and brother,
may I know thee more clearly,
love thee more dearly,
and follow thee more nearly, day by day.
Amen.


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