During the time of religious revival post-WWII, these two branches of fundamentalism split into what we call modern fundamentalism and new evangelicalism. The new evangelicals saw their position as keeping the baby while draining the bathwater. The fundamentalists thought the old denominations irreversibly corrupted.

Thus it is ironic that these two camps have mutated and now seem to have switched positions. I attend a church in Philadelphia that has been described by the pastor as “fundagelical.” In other words, it attempts to split the difference between fundamentalism and evangelicalism, though in all honesty the accent belongs on the second half of the word. Indeed, among self-declared fundamentalists there is a growing movement called “Young Fundamentalism” that seeks to counter the more radical fringes of fundamentalism. The (as of yet) implicit point of distinction between young, conservative evangelicals and young fundamentalists is similar to that which historically separated fundamentalism from new evangelicalism, but with one key difference: they have switched sides.

Conservative evangelical emigrés leave fundamentalism because they think it unsalvageably marked by legalism and isolationism; they must leave for happier (and often, more Reformed) climes. Young fundamentalists, on the other hand, argue that fundamentalism is worth saving. To leave the movement now would be to eject the good along with the bad; better to stay fundamentalists and purge it from within.

Growing up as a faculty/staff child at BJU, Pensacola was equal parts bogeyman and comic relief, the bastion of all things King James Only (capitalization not optional). I was a teenager when PCC distributed a video attacking Bob Jones as “the leaven of Fundamentalism” because the BJ Bible faculty promoted versions of the Bible not based exclusively on the same manuscripts as the King James Version. Indeed, my childhood pastor, Dr. Stewart Custer, was the epicenter of that woe-begotten lump. PCC did prove useful for a typical conversational gambit: “Sure, Bob Jones is strict/hard/etc…, but compared to PCC…[meaningful pause accompanied by weighty glance].”

As we drove on to the campus, Jes sternly forbade me from asking any provocative questions. I obeyed, kinda. I’ll provide several general impressions of the school and finish at a later date with my conclusion about what Bob Jones could learn from PCC.

The tour took several hours and highlighted all the major facilities, including the library, gym, classroom buildings, dormitories, fine arts center, and church. Of course the tour guide, a former PCC ministry team leader, took pains to show us the nicest dorm rooms and finest classrooms on campus. Frankly, the facilities were awesome; all the money that poured in from selling home-schooling curriculum was well spent. In thirty years the school’s facilities went from almost nothing to a campus infrastructure that often surpasses the “World’s Most Unusual University.”

From historical plaques around campus I gather that Pensacola initially received cues from Bob Jones, not surprising considering the ties between the Hortons, who founded PCC, and BJU. PCC had an annual Turkey Bowl, a Mission Prayer Band, and Greek letter societies. But today it seems that the situation is reversed with Bob Jones playing catch up. Pensacola builds a new gym in the mid 90s and Bob Jones does the same a decade later. Pensacola cashes in on paperback textbooks, so Bob Jones bets on HomeSat. I don’t find this unhealthy; competition encourages innovation.

Pensacola and Bob Jones do have cultural differences. Compare and contrast the Pensacola and Bob Jones promotional videos. Bob Jones spends far more time highlighting the fine arts, such as opera productions and Shakespearian plays, than does Pensacola. The music produced at PCC has much in common with good ol’ Southern Gospel, while Bob Jones prefers high-church compositions. Bob Jones just built a downtown satellite for their art gallery, the largest collection of Baroque religious art in the Western Hemisphere. Pensacola is spending millions constructing Fundamentalism’s largest wave pool.

[Allow me to take a moment to say that I do not believe that God distinguishes between high and low culture when deciding what pleases Him.]

The historical displays in both schools’ libraries symbolize the contrast between high and low culture. On one of the upper floors at Pensacola is a sentimental mockup of a one-room schoolhouse, complete with bell and 19th century books. On the first floor of Mack Library at Bob Jones is a replica of the room inside Westminster Abbey where translators worked on an updated English version of the Bible in 1611.

The multi-image presentation was interesting because a large portion (if memory serves me it was about a third) of the film was dedicated to the recitation of the central beliefs of Pensacola Christian College. In contrast to the creed of Bob Jones University, the Pensacola affirmation is more specific and includes a number of denominational distinctives. Significantly, any talk of the King James Version was omitted in the presentation. Actually at no point in the tour was the KJV mentioned. The website does say “it is our practice to use only the Authorized Version (KJV) in the pulpit and in classroom instruction. We believe the Textus Receptus is a superior text, and it is used for Greek instruction.” But this is a far cry from denouncing fellow Fundamentalists for heresy.

This post is long enough already, so I’ll hold my conclusions for part two.

But by the time I finished the book (a relatively quick read at 89 double-spaced pages, though taking far longer than the page count would indicate owing to Henry’s obtuse writing), I was convinced by parts of Henry’s thesis. Henry argued that Fundamentalism (broadly defined since he is writing in 1947 before the new-evangelical split had occured) had reacted against the modernistic social gospel of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The modernists were mostly post-millenial, believing that the Kingdom of God should be ushered in by social reform. Fundamentalists were mostly pre-millenial, thinking that the world was hopeless depraved and only redeemable by the second coming of Christ. Fundamentalists reacted against the modernist emphasis on social reform, instead see-sawing towards the opposite extreme.

This first part of Henry’s argument makes sense, except for a number of inconsistencies. Fundamentalist leaders remained very engaged in politics, both local and national (for example, see the fundamentalist reaction against Al Smith’s candidacy for President in 1928). They also advocated some relatively profound social reforms like Prohibition and vice laws.

Maybe Henry was just annoyed that Fundamentalists failed to address the issues he cared about the most, like labor disputes and war. I wonder if some of the Fundamentalist failure to engage those issues stemmed not from a reactionary theology, but because of their almost uniform political conservatism and their shared Southern roots.

Still, I agree with Henry that Fundamentalists were far more likely to preach redemption for individual spiritual needs rather than broader social ills. He posited that the message of redemption from sin applies to both the individual and to society. He backed up his argument with a discussion of Luke 3. John the Baptist calls for those truly desiring repentance to prove it by giving their extra possessions to those without, to not abuse their contracts, and to stop extorting money by violence. He then announced the coming of the only One who could enable John’s listeners to perform those good deeds.

I reject the calls of some emergent theologians who see in this passage a call for radical redistribution of wealth, but despite exegetical abuse, the text strongly argues for the importance of a social conciousness for true followers of Christ.

Henry believed that it was wrong for Fundamentalism to cede leadership of social issues to non-evangelicals, including modernists and non-theists. He believed that the message of redemption from individual sin was the heart of the gospel, but he argued that the gospel had broader social implications. I agree.

Christianity has a long history of radically challenging culture on race, gender, and class. Jesus preached an equal spiritual need both to the Jewish elite and to the common people (He did choose to be born in a carpenter’s home in the first place!). His gospel brought spiritual equality to slaves, freemen, men, and women. Post-Reformation evangelicalism continued that rich heritage with opposition to the slave trade, ministers who ignored class lines, and greater opportunities for women in the Church.

Unfortunately, Fundamentalism has a mixed record on social issues. Fundamentalists typically ended up reacting to the extreme left on social issues like women’s rights and racism rather than engaging those issues with the gospel. That doesn’t mean that Fundamentalists should have been more liberal per se, but they should not have abandoned the balanced middle ground in reaction to leftist leadership on those issues.

Henry’s original ideas appear valid. However, they were taken to an unfortunate extreme by some of his contemporaries, like Ockenga, as well as later evangelicals. The history of Fuller Theological Seminary, portrayed by George Marsden in Reforming Fundamentalism, tells part of that sad tale.

We constantly balance on a narrow tightrope between the two extremes of complete cultural disengagement and the social gospel. Thank God for His enabling grace through the Spirit that gives us the hope of a balanced walk!

PS [2/12/08] -  My brother-in-law wrote a paper in seminary reviewing Uneasy Conscience. The last couple pages are particularly interesting, when Henry analyzes the results of his ideas. If you are interested in reading it email me at paulmatzko@gmail.com and I will send it to you.

My favorite Norris story describes how he drove off the president of Baylor University. During chapel time on the third floor of the administration building, President Cooper became irate when several students brought a barking dog into the service, so irate in fact that he threw the unfortunate pup out the window to its death. Cooper apologized, but Norris would have none of it. By siccing the S.P.C.A. on Cooper, Norris forced the president to resign.

Russell shows little sympathy for fundamentalism in general and Norris in particular, but Norris really did deserve censure. He went out of his way to pick fights, seemingly whenever possible. Not being satisfied with fighting modernism, he fought his erstwhile allies who defected from the Northern Baptists. His legacy continues with the World Baptist Fellowship, which contains around a 1,000 churches and Arlington Baptist College. I wonder what they do for their “Founder’s Day”? I mean, how many years in a row can you re-enact a shooting without it getting old?

Interestingly, it appears that the WBF and their school have strong ties to Pensacola Christian College and the KJV circles; like father, like son…