Public People, Private Lives

There has been of late a rather embarrassing battle going on on social media between competing tribes of Bible believing Calvinists who come down on different sides of what God commands for civil governments. There are good men on both sides, and men whose rhetoric tends to lack grace on both sides. As noted last week in this space, these two groups will argue about just about everything, including the relative merits of physical fitness.

In this context one young man determined to score points for Team Fitness by noting how good it is that Dr. John MacArthur is still with us, and how much better it would have been if Dr. Sproul were also still with us. A broad brushed medical history was provided for both men, with the clear implication being that Dr. MacArthur wisely pursued fitness while Dr. Sproul, unwisely did not. I will not suggest that the claim was made that Dr. Sproul was foolish, as the author made a valiant effort to make his point without disparaging my father. (And to his credit reached out to apologize and has been happily forgiven.)

My beef isn’t that the author was intentionally unkind or intentionally dishonest. My beef is that such speculations are just that, and they are on their face inappropriate. I’d suggest that those to whom it seems appropriate have a fundamental misunderstanding of the difference between what is public and what is private. I understand that my father was a charming man and an engaging teacher. As such many people who did not know him think they did know him. Which is why it feels perfectly natural to opine on his exercise and dietary habits, despite knowing nothing about it.

The truth is that the great bulk of you did not know him. I wish you did because he was a wonderful man. If you didn’t, however, it’s unwise to act as though you did. And if you did, it is unwise to parade that information publicly. One young man, a friend of mine, asked for some time with my father to discuss theological issues. My father was quite surprised, not long after, to find snippets of conversation between the two show up on the young man’s blog, presented as if the conversation were an interview. The point isn’t that the young man played “Gotcha” journalism. One, he wasn’t trying to. Two, nothing my father side was anything he regretted saying. What he was frustrated with was the misleading nature of the invitation to talk.

Public people, like my father, long before they are public, are people. Which means that every biting comment they hear, every trust that is betrayed, every tidbit of speculation stings. Not because public people expect everyone to love them, but because they expect people to treat them with the same respect they would show less public people. “RC was fat and smoked for many years and therefore abandoned his post by dying, unlike John MacArthur. Be like John MacArthur” isn’t how you would treat your personal enemy, let alone your friend. But because my father was a public man, it’s fair game.

I don’t ever want to hide the blessings of my relationship with my father. That’s why I wrote Growing Up (with) RC. Neither, however, do I want my openness to be the occasion for others to take shots at RC Sproul the Public Theologian as if they wouldn’t wound RC Sproul, my father. My father didn’t deserve this, not because he was a great public theologian, but because he is a brother in Christ.

I write this not to scold my brother, but to encourage us all neither to treat public people like they can do no wrong, nor like they are open targets.