There is no better observable love, Francis Schaeffer says, than “saying we are sorry.” And there is one thing even harder than saying it, and that is to forgive. As a matter of historical record, Fran wrote to many people he believed he had offended to ask for forgiveness, people who were victims of his unkindness before he came to his crisis, when he realized there had been lack of love in his earlier affiliations. Forgiveness is a very deep matter. Schaeffer reflects on the Lord’s Prayer, and, commenting on the petitions about forgiving our trespasses, he says, “We are asking the Lord to open to us the experiential realities of fellowship with Himself as we forgive others.” Schaeffer tells us we do not need to wait for the other person to take the first step. We must have a forgiving spirit anyway, and not only toward Christians. True forgiveness is an attitude, and it is observable. The world is looking on, and thus it can make the judgment about whether or not Christians exhibit substantial love.

Observable Love Toward Brothers 

Observable love in a fallen world will inevitably need to succeed in the context of facing conflicts. Schaeffer makes many statements about handling disagreements. He had his share of them during his life. As he lived through various conflicts and often regretted the way he handled some of them, he developed considerable wisdom and insight into facing conflicts biblically. Edith makes the point several times in The Tapestry that in the past they were overzealous and harsh. Particularly in The Mark of the Christian, Fran focuses on how to handle differences between Christians.

One question is, how can we continue to exhibit proper unity in Christ without succumbing to what we consider to be the other person’s mistakes? He outlines five principles:

(1) When we have significant differences we should never come to them without tears and regret. There is a kind of person who rejoices in uncovering other people’s mistakes: this person loves the smell of blood. Instead, if we have tears, there can be beauty in the midst of differences.

(2) We must measure the seriousness of the difference and act accordingly. If the difference is very great, then we must at the same time exhibit a concern for the holiness of God, refusing to back down, but also seeking the way to show the greatest love in the situation. We can think of the occasions in Fran’s life where he was compelled to disagree on basic doctrine with people he nevertheless felt close to. But we can also think of times when he disagreed with people he really did not like; there, the call to love was truly compelling.

(3) Real, concrete love may require great sacrifice. Schaeffer often calls it “costly love.” We must be willing to suffer loss for the sake of keeping our relationships viable.

(4) There should be a desire to solve the problem rather than a desire to win. He says, cryptically, “there is nobody who loves to win more than the theologian.” But in life are we here to play one-upmanship or to find resolutions?

(5) Finally, our call is to hold up both the holiness of God and the requirements of love. Are we convinced that it is equally wrong to compromise about what is right and to neglect our oneness in Christ? Schaeffer insists that without this balance the world will not know that the Father has sent the Son.

Schaeffer presents two moving examples of these principles in action. The first occurred in the setting of World War II among the Plymouth Brethren. When Hitler required all religious groups to register with the state, half of the Brethren complied and the other half did not. Those who agreed to register had a much easier time of it, of course; however, they found themselves brought closer to liberal Protestants and experienced some doctrinal tainting. Many of those who refused suffered great losses in the Nazi concentration camps. After the war, reconciliation was badly needed. So both groups came together for several days, bared their souls, and searched their hearts. At the end, according to one witness, “We were just one.”

The second example involves a church in a large American city where two groups clashed, the countercultural “far-out ones” and the middle-class folks from the surrounding neighborhood. The pastor was unable to minister to both. Finally, they agreed to disagree and formed two different congregations. However, the elders of the one church worked very hard to maintain representation in the second group. According to Schaeffer, though they had two churches, they were consciously practicing love toward one another. The problem was solved not organizationally but with visible love.

Cross-Confessional Cobelligerence 

These examples come from contexts where the Christians are fairly unified in their confessions. But what of fellowship with believers who come from very different theological horizons? The issue of cooperation raised its head throughout Schaeffer’s earlier days. Early on Fran belonged to groups within Presbyterianism that deemed even other conservatives weak on matters such as the Christian liberties. Throughout his life, he was reluctant to cooperate with Christians who equivocated on various doctrines. Even for the purpose of doing evangelism, it may have to be that Christians cannot always work together. The overall reason is that in an age of relativism we need the opportunity to exhibit truth and antithesis.

I can visualize times when the only way to make plain the seriousness of what is involved in regard to a service or to an activity where the gospel is going to be preached is not to accept an official part if men whose doctrine is known to be an enemy are going to be invited to participate officially.

Avoiding confusion, for Schaeffer, included refusing to engage in certain visible platforms, such as praying together, lending one’s name to an organization, holding joint worship services, and the like, when there were significant doctrinal differences.

At the same time, Schaeffer developed a concept, mentioned previously, that enabled him to work alongside people he disagreed with: cobelligerence. A cobelligerent is not an ally. Rather, a cobelligerent is someone who says the same thing we are saying on a certain issue, without sharing our foundations. Thus, if a social injustice requires a response, and we find ourselves using arguments similar to those used by people who do not share our Christian philosophy, then we may get alongside them and fight the battle together. A counterexample is when the older evangelical, with his middle-class orientation, allies himself with an “establishment elite.” This might be an opaque reference to conservative politics. An opposite misguided alliance is when the child of such an evangelical joins a leftist elite. Yet, the cry we hear, “Stop the meaningless bombings” (in Vietnam), is really a kind of cobelligerence, not an alliance.

This piece is adapted from William Edgar, Schaeffer on the Christian Life, (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2015), 152–55. Used with permission of the publisher.

Read More On Church, conflict, Francis Schaeffer, public theology

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