So far as my acquaintance with religious discussion goes, there is no poorer method of seeking to arrive at truth than a debate, especially oral debate. I have heard of some exceptions, but as the general rule, I think the statement will stand. Rarely is a man convinced who was not convinced before or was inclined to be; rarely is a common man's understanding clarified on any point under discussion. The chances are many more that he may be mystified and confused, even to the point of losing confidence in Scripture as definite testimony to anything. Against its plainest declaration counter-statements and arguments are brought up which seem to nullify its meaning or so to modify it as to make it seem sometimes opposite of what it says on the face of it. Each of the disputants feels that he must defend his doctrine, which, of course to him is "the truth," and that is done, not by reverent and sympathetic consideration of the statements of Scripture on both sides, but by an endeavor to set at nought or, at least, to obscure opposing testimony. Devious tricks are often resorted to by debaters in the stress of the conflict, sophistries, witticisms, slight-of-hand methods, manners of voice, facial expression and gesture, fierceness, or ridicule, irony, sarcasm, invective, appeal to prejudice, efforts to confuse, to embarrass, to humiliate, to condemn; real and spurious dilemmas are raised, fallacies are clothed with garb of authority, mistranslations and misapplications are defended and persistently re-iterated. Even when (as in rare cases may happen) both disputants are so desirous of the truth that they will give just weight and consideration each to the other's proof-texts and arguments, it is exceedingly difficult for the average hearer to sift and judge the matter correctly, and to arrive at any impartial decision. A written discussion has some advantages over the oral. There is less likelihood of thoughtless or useless utterance. The personal element is not so prominent. Arguments are apt to be clearer and more dispassionate. The reader can go back, can compare, examine, think, at his leisure. But even thus the task of discerning the real truth and merit of the matter will be found difficult enough--too difficult for most of us so that we are too likely to settle the question on insufficient ground. Take up any of the greater debates where two able and skillful disputants engage--the Campbell-Rice, or Campbell-

Purcell, for instance; or the Wilkes-Ditzler, Harding-Moody--you will appreciate the onus of the quest. One is likely, if wholly impartial, to find himself in the position of the new justice, who, when he heard one side of the case, said, "I am satisfied that you are the one that is right"; and when he heard the other, "Why, it seems you are right too: Mr. Sheriff vou will pay the costs."

The fact is, a debate is not the same thing as a conference /33/ or consultation: it is a battle. Neither party to it is in position or mood to consider and weigh the possible truth and value of the other's teaching, but rather to oppose, to avoid, to break the force of, to parry, every point and argument advanced by the representation of the other side. And the outcome is rarely so decisive and obvious to all, as that of a boxing or a wrestling match. One may really demolish his opponent and (as Carlyle puts it) cut him in two with your logic, and hang one half of him on one horn of a dilemma and the other on the other, aud he will come back at you smiling. Rarely can the man in the pew see through the maze of syllogism and sophism, of argument and repartee, thrust and counter-thrust, so as to discern the real merits of the case. Often his favorable or unfavorable impression is derived from factors that have really nothing to do with the case. Frequently the personality and relative ability of the debater carries the day, rather than the justice of his cause. The reader may think that that is giving small credit to the intelligence of the average man. Well, it is not a matter of intelligence alone: in human affairs he is more competent to judge, for he has a better basis for judgment. But few men have such a knowledge of the Bible and such keen spiritual understanding as to enable them to discern between the true and the false in a scripture question simply upon hearing it discussed. Yea, where worldly concepts affect the vision an error appeals more powerfully than the truth. (John 8:47; 1 John 4:5). In religion too we find "right forever on the scaffold, wrong for ever on the throne," and the loud clamor of the flesh prevailing over the still small voice of the Spirit. Who then is sufficient unto these things? Certainly in decision of religious controversy the VOX POPULI is not likely to be the VOX DEI. In fact the fact that a verdict is popular raises its own question-mark.

Are public discussions then of no value? Do they do more harm than good? They do a lot of harm among God's people, certainly. They create prejudice and often bitterness and enmity. They occasion party distinctions, and draw party-lines more deeply than before. They never remove them. They never settle anything. They create a false religious fervor which is often mistaken for devotion toward God. They perplex and confuse the minds of the simple, and often destroy the love and joy and peace of true souls and harden the hearts of them that engage in them. In rare cases, when conducted by men of rare spirituality, and with rare candor and love, they may be helpful. In attacking and refuting unchristian error before a people who have some knowledge of the truth they do good. When a discussion is necessary we may look to God for wisdom and grace to conduct it aright, and pray that His truth may prevail. But promiscuous debating, especially among brethren, is productive of evil rather than good.