Mike Milne's article, "Mellowing of the Right," in the United Church Observer, (June, 2007), incorporated material from a long and pleasant chat he and I had in late April. What he attributed to me was I think accurate. He was, however, selective, and while I may well have come across as somewhat "mellow", he also heard some unhappiness. Indeed, my take is that there's too much at stake in today's United Church for this to be a time of unrelieved warm fuzzies. I therefore appreciate Fellowship Magazine's suggestion that I might like to offer a more rounded personal perspective on the situation.

Certainly, things may well look fairly smooth and calm on the surface. "Progressives" and "conservatives" are indeed typically mannerly towards each other. But is mannerliness enough? If so, why do such large numbers of theological conservatives continue to leave the denomination? Why have most of those who stay moved resignedly to the sidelines?

There's a third choice, of course, and some of us continue to plug away, myself included. Why aren't we discouraged? Well, sometimes we are, but Scripture's full of reassurance. Psalm 42, for example, has this to offer: "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God." Which, in baseball terms, means "The game ain't over till . . ." -not even in the bottom of the ninth, not even with two out and no one on.

Indeed, at its core the faith itself is profoundly reassuring. Thus, when challenged to summarize his faith in 20 words or less, Karl Barth once famously said (after a pause), "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so." Twelve words! Twelve words pointing to two reassuring pillars of the faith: that we can absolutely trust in the love of God (Jesus); that we can absolutely trust what Scripture tells us about God (Jesus). The simplicity of that is a nice counterbalance to the tortured theologizing we've been subjected to in recent years. We're sustained by reasoned but simple trust, not some sort of easy optimism.

Indeed, the hymn's 12 words aren't merely what sustain us evangelicals through hard times. They're also a tidy précis of the Good News we're called to proclaim in what we say and in how we live. As I see it, being a herald of that amazing news is a large part of my responsibility as NACC chairman. In that role, I periodically have the opportunity to visit NACC congregations across Canada. I speak with pastors and to Sessions, at congregational meetings and Sunday worship. My main emphasis is always that, as Christians, we are all charged, by Jesus himself, with passing on the Good News-the amazing news that God has come to live among us, that he loves all people, and that, amazingly, he has chosen to die for us.

For Alliance congregations, that's the over-riding mandate-to pass along that reassuring message, wherever we are-in Newfoundland outports, urban neighbourhoods in Ontario, farming communities on the prairies, isolated settlements in the mountains of B.C.

However, Paul recognized that to "preach Christ crucified" is to make ourselves absurd, even offensive to some. That's still true today, even in our own denomination. Our message offends some because of its high Christology. It also offends because of its implicit trust in the biblical account, which does not mean we always understand Scripture literally. This puts us at odds with those who are comfortable with documents like A Song of Faith, the faith statement approved by General Council last year.

The problems presented by A Song are so great that they have to be resolved, and not by polite gestures. They touch on gut issues-quite literally matters of life and death. So how can vague mellowness be the answer? Indeed, we would argue that the calm Milne speaks of is an illusion, that it masks dismay and anger, on both sides.

Since Milne's article focuses on the United Church's conservative groups and how they have given up and "are fading from the front lines," let's look instead across the gulf to the other side, to the "progressives." What's the attitudinal climate there? Surely, with the field clear, it must now be benign. But consider:

Two examples of mellowness? (I think not-and I have others.)

The problem is that-on both sides of what is obviously a chasm-there are too many of us who are not prepared to commit to living the love of God. Sadly, that group includes me much of the time, because it's not easy. It requires me to love my neighbours, even those I think are dead wrong; to live according to God's moral direction; to be prepared to serve him in radical, costly discipleship. Moreover, all three of those demand that I be honest, painfully honest-honest with others, and, most emphatically, honest with myself.

Without such honesty, there's no bridging this space that separates us. And, since I speak of complete honesty, are we sure we even want to bridge the gulf? Aren't we all better off quietly ignoring those people "over there"?

I'm reminded of one of my first times at Conference. Many delegates sported "LET'S TALK" buttons. Nonetheless, I heard no discussion of any kind about anything that matters. The intent was admirable, but putting on a button was just a start-an invitation like that goes nowhere without honest sharing, careful listening, thoughtful questioning. It also requires setting aside our pride and self-righteousness. (Hard to do!) Obviously we weren't ready at that Conference. Are we ready now? God's waiting.

Maybe there's some hope. Maybe. Two clergy I know pretty well, small "e" evangelicals, originally from other denominations, speak of a particular grace they see in our denomination, a grace that has to do with acceptance, with inclusivity. Friends, acceptance and inclusivity are not consistent with gulfs.

I repeat, God's waiting.

Geoff Wilkins is Chairman of the National Alliance of Covenanting Congregations