Not long ago, some friends of mine and I were lamenting the fact that our denomination is currently experiencing a dearth of “giants of the faith”—theologians and thinkers who articulate for the entire church the essence of our faith and who take as their calling the task of helping us navigate its evolution and growth in response to new understandings of God’s purpose for us in an increasingly complex world.

The denominational mentors of our past—the Morrows, the Peppers, the Reagins, the Irbys, and so many others—are gone now, and for whatever reason, not many (if any) have stepped in to fill their shoes. I don’t think it’s for lack of persons who are capable of assuming such a role.

We have more than a few very bright ministers filling pulpits, chaplaincies, and other ministries around the denomination—ordained persons gifted with the kind of intellectual integrity, insight, and vision that have been the hallmarks of our theological giants in the past. But debating where God might be leading our denomination in an effort to make sure our theology and doctrine conform as closely as possible to that direction publicly can be dangerous. Pastors have lost their positions for less. While a high tolerance for risk seems an essential trait of the best theologians and prophets, I wonder if we have created an environment that is so toxic to respectful discourse that we have effectively snuffed out any lights that might otherwise help lead us forward.

As I see it, this poverty of theological and doctrinal leadership has—and will continue to—hurt us. It could hurt us, for example, as we strive to expand our denominational reach into other areas of the world. Like it or not, the culture in which religious experience occurs influences the expression of the faith that grows out of that experience. A theology or doctrine can be articulated in a way that either makes itself accessible in the context of the nuances and defining traits of a given culture, or slams the door to anything outside a strict and exclusive interpretation of its tenets.

Choosing wisely, however, requires mentors—persons to whom we look for a thoughtful articulation of our theology and doctrine in the context of a multi-cultural, religiously pluralistic world. It requires persons dedicated to helping us continue to refine and then to nurture the essence of our faith, and thus to put aside those concerns that Christ would likely consider superfluities—fears and selfish motives that can do nothing but hinder us in responding to the great commission as we should.

Another perhaps timely example of where we might appreciate the wisdom and guidance of some giants of our faith right now might be our Confession of Faith (which I mean here to be inclusive of our Constitution, Rules of Discipline, Directory for Worship, and Rules of Order). Surely one of the more beautiful expressions of faith and belief in all of Protestantism (OK, so I’m biased), we have nevertheless decided twice in the 200 years we’ve been around that it needed revising. Whether due to a perceived need for clarification (1883) or for updating the language we use in expressing our faith (1984), both revisions seem to me to have been in response—at least to some extent—to the changing milieu in which Cumberland Presbyterians of the time found themselves.

Our theology, doctrine, and Constitution were forged originally in a completely different era and, I would argue, in a uniquely American culture that differs significantly from the culture in which Americans—and certainly, those who are not Americans—live today. As our culture has evolved—and that it has evolved in significant ways seems unquestionable—so too have the ways we interpret and respond to the truths and disciplines we find in our Confession of Faith. For one thing, we benefit, I believe, from the perspectives of those whose faith was formed in cultures we Americans might consider “foreign” to our own.

We have made it a denominational priority to accelerate the expansion of our reach into some of those non-American cultures. At the same time, we are spending a great deal of time and energy trying to unify two denominations that should never have been separated in the first place—two denominations, frankly, whose expressions of faith and worship are arguably rooted in two different cultures. We pursue both of these worthy goals, however, with a Confession of Faith that, as I see it, may be ripe for another revision.

Perhaps it’s time we thought about what a more adaptable Confession of Faith might look like—a Confession that we can feel confident speaks clearly to all persons in need of good news, but who move and think in cultural, social, and historical milieus that scarcely resemble those of the United States. To be clear, by “adaptable” I do not mean “weak-kneed”, “capitulating”, or “compromising”. I do mean a Confession that is revised to be intentionally and unequivocally inclusive in its language, expression, and practice, with particular attention to flexibility—especially in Constitutional matters—that accommodates some of the differences in human cultures, societies, histories, and interpretation of scripture while guarding the essentials of our faith.

It would be a tall order, to be sure. But a revision would also be an opportunity to invite participation and acceptance of joint ownership by a broader diversity of Cumberland Presbyterians than ever before—Cumberland Presbyterians whose experiences of life and faith are worlds and ages removed from those of our founders, and for that matter, from those who did ministry in 1883 and 1984.

This, of course, is not a trivial proposal. For one thing, it is an effort we would have to undertake in an age when guidance from well-established and widely-respected “giants of our faith” might be wanting. But perhaps, given extra time as compensation for what we lack in theological mentors, we could through honest and genuine dialog, and partnership among Cumberland Presbyterians whose life experiences are quite different from those of 1883, and even of 1984, conceive a revision that would strengthen and sustain us in what often seems an increasingly splintered world. Actually, for a denomination that seems happily destined for greater and greater diversity in its membership, perhaps the journey through such an exercise alone would be enough…