Trinity Study: 1 Corinthians 1:18–25 application questions

Following up on the video discussion from yesterday, here are some questions and reflections for application.

• Do you think of yourself as being "on the way" with regard to your salvation? And do you see the cross as the power to enable you to continue to grow and progress in it? What leads us at times to think the we are "past the cross" and focus on something else?
• What comes to mind when you think of "power"? What are powerful things, in your opinion? Consider what makes them powerful to you. Do you see those things in the cross? What does the "power of the cross" teach you about real power? 
• What comes to mind when you think of "folly" and "foolishness"? How is what the world offers in terms of "power" actually folly compared to God? 
• Which of the two groups do you tend to be like the most: the Jews, who need signs to believe, or the Greeks, who need convincing arguments or eloquent words? What did this passage speak to in your heart, about these tendencies?

Trinity Study: 1 Corinthians 1:10–17 application questions

Following up on Paul's words about the splinter groups and factions in the Corinthian church, we might consider the following questions about application...

• What kinds of "groups" have emerged with people in your church (including in your own life)? Are there people that follow certain people (e.g., R.C. Sproul, Tim Keller, John Piper), schools (e.g., Calvinism, the Puritans), movements or issues (e.g., particular schooling methods, social justice matters)? 
• How do the voices that exercise this kind of selectivity add and enrich the conversations within your congregation? How do they challenge you in ways that you haven't thought of before? How do they advance a deeper understanding of the Gospel and Kingdom?
• Do any of those selectivity patterns distract the congregation from the Gospel? What causes that to happen in your context?
• In light of Paul's words, how ought we to approach selectivity within the church? How can we see it as strengthening the church? How ought we to take care with it? 
• Get introspective for a moment: in what ways do your own selectivity preferences present a distraction from the Gospel for you? What do you need to re-align to put them into proper perspective in light of the Gospel?

Trinity Study: 1 Corinthians 1:10–17

This week as we continue into Paul's first letter to the church in Corinth, we see that he shifted from introduction to the start of addressing issues and concerns—starting with his concern about the divisions within the congregation.

Here's the video for this study:

Trinity Study: 1 Corinthians 1:4–9

Continuing in our brief studies in 1 Corinthians, today we look at the rest of the introduction/greeting section in vv. 4–9. In this short section, Paul gives thanks for how God has enriched the church.

Here's the video:

During the video, I mentioned that we (the Trinity session) would like it if all of our members completed a spiritual gifts inventory and sent us the results. I am grateful that LifeWay has provided a free copy of their spiritual gifts inventory online; you can find it here:
https://www.lifeway.com/en/articles/women-leadership-spiritual-gifts-growth-service

If you would, please download the PDF and complete the inventory sometime over the next week or two. Then email me either a copy of your completed inventory summary or simply a list of those gifts that it shows that you have. Thanks!

COVID-19 related links

As we've taken in all of the information about the pandemic, we've found some links and information to be more helpful than others. Below is the list of links that we've found useful for our consideration; perhaps they will be helpful for your church, as well. (I'll update the list as new resources become available.)

General information

CDC Guidance for Cleaning/Disinfecting
CDC Guidelines for Creating a Disinfecting Plan (Quick Guide)
CDC — When and How to Wash Your Hands
EPA COVID-19 Disinfectant List
The Risks: Know Them, Avoid Them (from blogger Erin Bromage)

Related to churches re-opening/resuming embodied corporate worship

CDC FAQ for Administrators/Leaders at Community- and Faith-Based Organizations
Considerations for Reopening the Church Building (from the Georgia Baptist Mission Board)
The Way Back to In-Person Worship: When to return? And under what conditions? (From the PCA's ByFaith magazine)
Governor's Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives Releases Guidance on Reopening Houses of Worship (TN Governor Lee)
Guidelines for Places of Worship (Alabama Public Health)
24 Questions Your Church Should Answer before People Return (from LifeWay staffer Ken Braddy)
10 Easy-to-Overlook Aspects of Church Reopening (from LifeWay staffer Ken Braddy)
4 Phases for an Orderly Return to Church (from LifeWay staffer Ken Braddy)

On singing in public spaces

Singing, The Church, and COVID-19: A Caution for Moving Forward in Our Current Pandemic
Is Congregational Singing Dangerous? (from the Gospel Coalition)
Before You Panic: Thoughts on Congregational Singing and Choirs in Light of the Pandemic (from Renewing Worship)

On the opportunities that churches have to minister

Leading Beyond the Blizzard: Why Every Organization Is Now a Startup (from Andy Crouch/Praxis Journal)

Strategies for Winter: Redemptive Leadership in Survival Times (from Andy Crouch/Praxis Journal)
Ed Stetzer on the Crisis and Opportunity Facing the Church (from the Billy Graham Center)

Trinity Questions #8: When will we resume embodied corporate worship?

The looming question for most of us is: when will Trinity resume having worship in-person again? What will it take to make that happen? What will it look like when it does? What things do participants need to know?

This week's video focuses on exactly those questions. Shane and I have been working hard to get those questions answered, and we've made a lot of progress. In the video below, I'll talk you through what we've been discussing and what is left to figure out. I'll also offer some direct thoughts on what you will need to know to participate.

Also, please note: at the end of the video I mentioned that we will have a brief meeting for questions and answers following worship on Sunday. If you are able to stay online for that, we would really appreciate it.

TRC Questions #7: Application

As we consider the reasons and rationale for gathering together for worship, and for using the Zoom platform for virtual worship, here are some reflections on application.

• When you are unable to attend worship (because of illness, travel, or some other providential hindrance), do you have a strong sense that you are missing it? Do you consider that the rest of the congregation feels your absence as well? 
• How does your presence contribute to the service of worship being offered by the congregation? What ways do you pick up on the contributions of others to the worship service? How is that different in "virtual" worship—is it amplified? Suppressed? 
• What do you do in preparation for corporate worship ordinarily? Do you do those same things to prepare for "virtual" worship?
• How does the reason of "covenant renewal" shift your own expectations for corporate worship? How does it change the importance. you place on your own participation in corporate worship? Does covenant renewal represent a new paradigm for you for how and why corporate worship is vital to the life of a Christian?

Zoom Thoughts

Also as we reflect on worshiping via "virtual" space, I thought it would be helpful for you to consider the following "best practices" and other suggestions for worshiping via the Zoom platform.

• Zoom has two main viewing modes: Gallery view and Presenter view. We recommend that you use Gallery view for most/all of the worship service, in order to best sense the presence of your fellow worshipers. You may prefer to switch to Presenter view during the sermon.
• It may be difficult to see and participate in the virtual worship service on a device with a smaller screen. We encourage you to use the largest screen that you can, so that you might see everyone else clearly. Many devices are able to broadcast video up to a full-size TV using certain connections or additional devices, which may be optimal for your experience of virtual worship.
• Because your participation is just as important as everyone else's, ideally you would keep both audio and video "on" throughout the whole worship service. This way others can see and hear you, just as you can them, and the feeling of one another's presence will emphasize the gathering aspect of worship, even if virtually. If you are unable (for various reasons) to enable both audio and video, we strongly recommend that you engage at least one—let us see or hear you, if not both.
• In the same way that it is important that you see everyone else clearly, it is important that they can see you clearly too! Device cameras placed at low angles (such as in your lap or on a coffee table, etc.) can make it difficult for the rest of us to see your face. We suggest that you find a convenient way to prop your device up at eye level or slightly below.
• As with normal face-to-face worship, your participation in the various elements of the worship service is edifying and encouraging to the others who are also participating. Singing with full voice, reading aloud and in a consistent meter/rhythm for congregational elements of the liturgy, and standing/kneeling as you are physically able all serve to build up the body and strengthen everyone's worship, not just your own.
• Just as when worshiping "in person" then most of us are actively mindful of how our actions may be a hindrance to worship for those around us, so it is with virtual worship too. While it may be tempting to multi-task or keep your hands from being idle, please be considerate of how your choices and actions may be a distraction and hindrance to others' worship.
• Whereas in a regular gathering for worship then seating arrangements and other factors allow us to shift our focus toward the worship leader, in virtual worship we are more vulnerable to distractions, both visual and audible. What makes for a distraction? It is something that is unexpected—which can be a sound or something happening on the screen. Someone standing and walking out of view is not a distraction, because that happens regularly; someone standing up and starting to do jumping jacks IS a distraction, because we would never expect that during a corporate worship service. Please be conscious of how what you are doing on your end of the camera/microphone may distract others, and thus hinder them from worship.
• One benefit that Zoom offers as our virtual sanctuary for worship is that we can socialize with one another, more like we might in a more normal setting. Please plan to log into the Zoom meeting early before the service, and/or to stay on afterward, if you want to socialize. Also, we would encourage you to account for the limitations of the platform for socializing; try not to dominate the conversation, or exclude others by focusing on one person or topic too narrowly.

TRC Questions #7: Why Zoom? Continued...

Following up on last week's discussion, I return this week to the question, "Why did Trinity choose Zoom for our virtual worship?"

To answer that question, I dig deeper into the bigger question, "Why do we gather for public, corporate worship in the first place?"

These questions are at the heart of what we do at Trinity, and who we are as Christians and worshipers. Here's this week's video:

Look for questions and application coming over the days to come.

TRC Questions #6: Why Zoom?

Why did we choose to use the Zoom platform for our worship services during the pandemic? Why not just use a streaming media service as so many other churches have opted to do?

To understand this, we have to first ask and answer the question, "Why do we worship corporately in the first place?" Why do we gather for worship as Christians?

In this week's video, I begin to answer the questions above. This will be the first of a multi-part answer that will be broken down over the next few weeks. Here's this week's video:

Over the next few days I'll provide further reflection on application and prayer, as I have been doing.

TRC Questions #5: Application and Prayer

In light of the discussion about trusting God versus testing God, and the brief synopsis the I gave about the decision-making process that Shane and I are employing, I wanted to offer the following reflections about application and prayer on this topic.

Application Questions

• What are some ways where you have seen God's providence in common, everyday ways? Can you make a short list of ways that God provides for you through ordinary means?
• Who are some of the wisest people that you know? What makes you think of them as "wise"? How do you see trusting in God's providence linked to wisdom in them?
• What are some ways that you are tempted to test God instead of trust him? 
• How are the wise people in your life responding to the pandemic? What responses do you consider to be foolish? Do you see others testing God in their words and actions, in response to the pandemic?
• What questions do YOU feel need to be answered satisfactorily, before you will feel comfortable with Trinity Church resuming regular corporate worship? Where will you turn for answers to those questions?
• What questions do you believe the elders need to ask and answer before we should call for resuming regular corporate worship? (Would you list them in the comments to this blog please?)

Prayer

• O Lord, give me patience and wisdom at all times, and help me to trust in you and your divine providence. Protect me from the temptations to doubt, act foolishly, or test you in any way.
• Father, during this season of isolation during the pandemic, grant me a particular wisdom to act in trust of your providence, and guide me away from testing you by my words, actions, or thoughts.
• Dear God, give me wisdom about how much I should expose myself—and through so doing, also expose others—even after civic leaders have lifted restrictions about "social distancing." Let my trust in you, and in the advice of those who know and understand how pandemics function, guide me in my actions. 
• Lord, grant wisdom and insight to the elders of the church as they seek answers to the questions they are asking regarding resuming ordinary worship services. Help them, that the decision to resume would be neither too soon nor too long, but when it is good, right, and fitting to do so.
• God, sustain all of us with patience and perseverance during this strange season of isolation, and help us to endure well through the remainder of the time when we must isolate. May it be all that much sweeter to gather once the isolation is lifted.

TRC Questions #5: Trusting God vs. Testing God

In this week's discussion, I talk about the difference between trusting God and his providence, versus testing God, during times of crisis or need. I also explain some of the practical considerations that the TRC session is taking in thinking toward resuming weekly public worship in a face-to-face, in-person way.

At the end of the video, I invite your feedback: if you have any thoughts about the kinds of questions we need to ask and answer in considering resuming worship in-person, we want to hear them. Please give your input in comments below.

Here's this week's video:

TRC Questions #4: Application and Prayer

Yesterday we looked at Luke 10, the parable of the "Good Samaritan"—and how that passage emphasizes for us some of the principles of loving our neighbors that are instructive during a pandemic crisis.

Today let's consider some possible points of application, and some ways we can pray, in light of this.

Application

• Who is YOUR neighbor? Make a list of everyone who you can think of that, according to the parameters in Luke 10, would qualify as your neighbor. NOTE: there may be people whose names you don't even know, but should be included (i.e., "the clerk at the store I visit weekly" or "that new employee I haven't met yet").
• Reflect carefully: if you found out one of these neighbors was in distress, how would you respond? What would you do, say, and/or pray for them? Be as honest with yourself as you can about what your instincts would lead you to do.
• How does neighbor-love shape the way that you have reacted to the pandemic isolation? Does it motivate you to act (or to opt not to act) in some way that you normally wouldn't? Does it give you patience and endurance for things that otherwise would make you frustrated?
• Consider what 1 Corinthians 13 says about what love is. Most often we consider that "love chapter" with regards to romantic love, but take a few minutes to apply it to the idea of neighbor love. How does that re-shape your picture of what loving our neighbors looks like?
• How can Trinity Church love our neighbors better as a congregation? Do you agree that, as an expression of neighbor-love, ceasing to meet in person for worship is a good decision? 
• What hopes do you have for Trinity to extend greater love to neighbor in the future? Can you think of something that we could do, which we haven't? (Reply or leave a comment if so, telling us what it is!)

Prayer

• Father, I pray that you would teach me more every day of how I am to love my neighbor and what that requires of me. Increase my willingness to do so, and give me motivation to expend myself for the sake of others.
• God, please reveal to me the ways that I have not loved my neighbors well, especially during this pandemic, and grant me a contrite heart for where I have fallen short of what you've commanded me to do. Turn my focus from myself and my own comfort and ease to the service and care of others.
• Lord, please use the many acts of loving neighbor—my own, those of my friends and family, and from Christians across the world—to bring hope and grace to those in need of it, and draw our neighbors closer to you through acts of love.
• God, also use the acts of social distancing (whether it is motivated by love for neighbor or not) to effectively reduce the spread of this virus, and bring us back soon to a point where we can make contact with one another again.
• Father, reveal to your congregation of Trinity Church, and especially to the elders, ways in which we might love our neighbors better, more fully, more completely. Help us to have the willingness and selflessness to carry out these acts as we are able.

The Unbiblical Tradition of Lent

March 6, 2019, known to some as "Ash Wednesday," was marked across a surprisingly large segment of the Reformed community—especially including many pastors—of a tradition that is abhorrent and offensive, contrary to the Gospel, and harmful to the church.

These brothers, who brazenly take up this tradition year after year, threaten the integrity of the Reformed church community and do damage to many through their practices. Yet, they persist in their annual practice, never missing a year nor easing off of the relentless observance they insist upon. In fact, they are zealous to recruit others to their tradition.

I've watched this happen each year for the duration of the existence of social media. I am convinced that this "Lenten" tradition is utterly unbiblical, and is an affront to living out the Gospel faithfully.

I'm speaking, of course, of the annual tradition some Reformed Christians have of berating their brothers and sisters in Christ for adopting the practice of observing the liturgical calendar.

No, it's not the truly historical Lenten traditions that I find so unbiblical and such a challenge to Gospel living, but the caustic reactions and responses of those who insist on mocking and satirizing those who observe the historic Lenten traditions. Year after year, my brothers (it's always men) make much of how little they think of the practices of Lent, and by extension of those who practice them. Fellow pastors set aside their work of edifying and building up the church to publicly abuse brothers and sisters in Christ for their attempts at piety.

I know many, many Christians who observe Lent in the more historic ways. Ironically, I cannot recall a single time when one of them sought to convince someone else to adopt the same practices, and certainly no occasion when it was suggested that those who abstained from any Lenten observance were somehow in the wrong or "less than faithful" to the Gospel.

Instead, many of them seek out an opportunity to have ashes marked across their foreheads in a recognition that the reality of death—ashes to ashes, dust to dust—is worth remembering, as it sweetens the parallel reality that, in Christ, death has lost its sting. Many will take up fasting or abstention regularly over the weeks to come in a desire to be drawn nearer to Christ in their dependence on him. They will allow their focus to fall upon the mourning and grief for sin that required the death of our Savior. They will savor the "already/not yet" reality of Christ's finished, yet not fully consummated, work of redemption.

Which of these is a bad thing?

Some despise the ashes tradition. Okay... but moments before he raised his friend Lazarus from the dead, Jesus wept; would we say that his tears cheapened the finished work that he himself accomplished? Why then do some insist that the practices of Lent must mean a failure to recognize the finished work of Christ?

Some joke about Lenten abstentions as "not real fasts"—which is true to a point. But to paraphrase Dwight Moody, "I like their way of fasting better than your way of not fasting." Jesus clearly expected his disciples to fast (see Matthew 6), but the only Christians I know who fast—ever—are those who observe the liturgical calendar.

One of my acquaintances posted this quote from Walter Bruggemann on his social media today:

I imagine Lent for you and for me as a great departure from the greedy, anxious antineighborliness of our economy, a great departure from our exclusionary politics that fears the other, a great departure from self-indulgent consumerism that devours creation. And then an arrival in a new neighborhood, because it is a gift to be simple, it is a gift to be free; it is a gift to come down where we ought to be.

I like that. And here's the great irony of this decades-old tradition of running down Lent before others: one group is seeking to set aside anti-neighborliness while the other group is taking it up especially against their fellow Christians. One side is striving to depart from the self-indulgence that devours creation, while the other side has seized upon this opportunity to devour their brothers and sisters. One set of Christians is setting aside time over the days and weeks to come to look ahead, with longing and anticipation, for a new Jerusalem and the fulfillment and unity that will come with it; another set of Christians is stamping their feet about the "finished work of Christ" while dividing themselves from the rest of the body his finished work was meant to bring together.

It boils down to this: one group of Christians, in their practices of observing Lent, are trying to practice their faith with piety and spiritual discipline. The other group of Christians are watching this and mocking it; they are making fun of their fellow believers for their efforts toward spiritual growth.

Mature Christians don't do that. Believers who take Jesus' command, that "this is how they will know you are my disciples: that you love one another"—don't do that.

I'm not out to convince anyone that, in order to be faithful to Christ, they must take up the observance of the liturgical calendar. I'm not arguing that Lent and its practices are necessary for spiritual health or growth. I'm not even claiming that those who believe Lent to be a distracting practice or an unhelpful innovation are wrong to think that (although I disagree, I respect their right to their position).

My point is simply this: if you believe that the practice of Lent is sinful, there's a process for how that should be handled within the church (hint: it doesn't have anything to do with social media) and you should sincerely and earnestly seek out your brother or sister and address that with them. That's a good and healthy thing for Christians to do.

If you're not willing to do that—either because you don't really think it's a sin but just a bad idea, or because you don't have the spiritual fortitude to step up on behalf of your fellow Christians like that—then you should just stop. Your mocking social media posts aren't convincing anyone of anything, except perhaps that you don't love the Gospel or understand Christ's finished work quite as much as you seem to think you do.

Thoughts on my fellow Memphis area pastor, Andy Savage

For the last several days I’ve been wrestling with what is appropriate for me, as a pastor in the Memphis, TN, area, to say publicly and openly about the situation involving Andy Savage, Highpoint Church, and Jules Woodson. After members in my congregation asked me about my perspective Wednesday night, I’ve come to the point where I feel compelled to offer some thoughts. 

For starters, let me deal with the log in my own eye: 20 years ago, I too was a young youth minister while finishing college, and I remember (sometimes with an accompanying facepalm) plenty of foolish mistakes and times when I sinned against those in my youth group or congregation. Throughout my adult life I’ve also faced my share of temptations toward sexual sin and other sins, and have failed in succumbing to those temptations more times than I wish were true. And, again thinking back to my late teens and early 20s, I remember times when, even as a Christian, I was inappropriately physical with women I was dating. 

Which is to say: I don’t believe that sexual sin is unforgivable, nor is the truth of sexual sin in a man’s past an automatic disqualification for ministry. And I do believe that every pastor fails his congregation, sometimes makes grievous mistakes, and sins against them. I’m certainly example #1 of all of these.

But the situation with Andy Savage is different.

I don’t know Andy personally, and frankly had never heard of him before very recently. I don’t know all of the circumstances or details of the history of what happened in Texas 20 years ago, nor do I know all of the details or circumstances about how things have unfolded in the last few weeks at Highpoint Church. I don’t profess to be an expert on sexual abuse or the abuse of power. (My brief account of events below can be supplemented easily by articles in the Kansas City Star, CBS News, and the New York Times, among others.) 

But from what I do know, I can tell you that the situation with Andy Savage is different. It’s not just a case of a pastor involved in an “unfortunate incident” that can be easily reconciled or dealt with “internally.” And it’s not just a case of past sin, even sexual sin. There’s a difference between sexual sin and predatory sin.

Andy Savage, taking advantage of his position and authority as a pastor in a church, drove a 17-year old girl under his pastoral care into the woods and sexually assaulted her. Afterward she spoke to another pastor on staff, Larry Cotton, about the assault; instead of pastoring her well and seeking justice and healing, he instructed her to keep silent about it and, by all appearances, he and the rest of the staff sought to cover it up. Andy Savage was gradually relieved of his responsibilities and allowed to leave to serve another church. Nothing to address this abuse and assault directly was ever done, as far as I can tell, until very recently. And for the most part what action has been taken is as frightening as it is disappointing. 

While Jules Woodson has had to deal with almost two decades of shame, nightmares, and PTSD from being sexually assaulted by her pastor, that pastor has been allowed to continue in a long career of ministry, eventually co-founding a megachurch, publishing several books, and hosting a radio show. And for most of those 20 years, Jules Woodson remained silent—until sharing her #MeToo testimony on a website in early January. She also posted a copy of an email she’d sent to Andy Savage in December.

Following this, Andy Savage first responded by Twitter and a statement on his blog (neither of which is available to the public any longer). I had a chance to read his statement before it was taken down, and was disappointed by the subtle gaslighting, deflection, and downplaying I read there. He referred the an “unfortunate sexual incident” that he “regretted”—with no mention of his failure to be truly accountable for his actions, or of the other pastor’s neglect to provide protection and support of Savage’s victim.

For reasons I don’t know (but I speculate that it was because it became clear to the leadership of Highpoint Church felt that the blog statement was not going to make it all go away), Andy Savage presented an “admission” to his congregation this past Sunday after a lengthy, qualifying introduction by co-pastor Chris Conlee (it was live-streamed; click here to see the “testimony” on YouTube). In it, he did not recount anything about his assault of a teenager, but claimed that “in agreement with church staff, I took every step to respond in a biblical way” and that he “accepted full responsibility for [his] actions.” He asserted that “this incident was dealt with in Texas 20 years ago” and claimed that he believed everything had been done that was needed. When he was done with his statement, the congregation rose for a standing ovation, and Chris Conlee spoke further about how grateful he and Andy were for the support of the congregation, then he prayed for Andy, the Savage family, and for Jules Woodson.

To be fair, Andy Savage’s statement on the video seems utterly sincere and he apparently demonstrates what can only described as remorse. And, giving all benefit of doubt to Savage, it may indeed be that he did everything that he was counseled to do by his fellow staff and the pastors he served under—which casts troubling light back on Larry Cotton and the others on staff, at very least. On the other hand, according to my fellow pastor Mike Sloan, outward sincerity is something that abusers can summon at will—and given the facts that Andy Savage has at various times changed his story, hidden his Twitter feed from public viewing, taken down his initial blog post, rationalized his actions and response, and blamed Jules Woodson for being complicit, this may be exactly what he is doing.

Even if he is utterly sincere and remorseful, the situation is still troubling. So what is so troubling about this? What makes this situation different?

First, Jules Woodson should have been supported, protected, loved, and encouraged by her church family—especially by the pastoral staff. She should never, ever have been made to feel that she was at fault or complicit in any way; they should have believed her, disavowed any shame on her part, and offered counseling and pastoral care. The way that she has been dealt with, then and now, is generally shameful and embarrassing for the church.

Second, let’s acknowledge plainly that, whatever happened in the moment or in the wake of Andy Savage’s sexual assault of Jules Woodson, no true justice has been sought for this. Final justice, of course, belongs to the Lord—and yet Christians are also commanded to seek justice in the world as faithful living in the Kingdom. Jules Woodson is the victim of assault, and deserved to have justice pursued on her behalf instead of what she received.

Third, this was not simply “sexual sin”—which, as a pastor, would have been similarly troubling and threatening to his ministry—but was a clear case of abuse of power and assault. In some states there are laws that categorize any sexual contact between a pastor and someone under his care as sexual assault, regardless of age or consent, because of the recognition that pastors are people in positions of authority. Add in the fact that she was still 17 and under her parents’ care and authority, and (regardless of what Texas law may stipulate about ages of consent) it was also a clear breach of ethical boundaries. Nothing about this “sexual incident” was okay or “normal” or anything like that.

Further, it raises the honest question: “Who else?” Andy Savage claims there has never been another incident like this one in his life. Let’s hope and pray that is true. But there are markers, as Mike Sloan pointed out to me, of the traits of an abuser. If that’s the case, there may be other victims as well who, like Jules Woodson, have been shamed and guilted into lonely silence. And if that is the case, it’s fair to say that those victims too have been robbed of pastoral care, mercy, and justice.

Also, Andy Savage, Larry Cotton, and the rest of their staff sinned and erred by not dealing with the situation publicly, openly, and decisively. He shouldn’t have been allowed to resign, but should have been fired. It should have been announced to the congregation that he was fired for sexual impropriety with a member of the youth group for whom he was given care. And he should have been placed under the public discipline of the church, and not simply allowed to “move home” to avoid continuing to deal with it.

Next, it appears that the leadership of both churches (though Highpoint perhaps less so) are caught up in a pattern of self-protection, more concerned about avoiding controversy than about addressing sin in a biblical way. This is evident, among other things, in casting Andy Savage as a “victim” in this whole situation alongside the true victim he assaulted. I can appreciate Chris Conlee’s attempts to be careful with how he worded things and also to speak of the need for support and healing for Jules Woodson, there were many statements that he made which made me feel like he was downplaying the reality of things and trying to separate what Andy Savage did from the fallout that it wreaked in Jules Woodson’s life. If anything (and again, giving as much benefit of doubt as possible), it almost seems like Andy Savage realizes that, then and now, there are far more consequences to his sin against her than anyone else will acknowledge—or possibly even than anyone else will allow him face. Once more I’ll reiterate that I don’t know the circumstances intimately, but I could totally believe a situation where, as a twenty-something, he wasn’t permitted to speak as freely or accept the consequences as fully as maybe even he himself felt was right.

Finally, the response of Highpoint Church as a congregation is disturbing. I’ve been in congregations where one person starts clapping and everyone else, not knowing what’s appropriate or not, just follows along. And I certainly recognize that having one of your pastors stand up and make a statement (however devoid of details) confessing to serious sin in the past would make for an awkward moment. But whatever the right response to this situation is, a standing ovation isn’t it. I know someone would say, “They weren’t applauding sin; they were applauding God’s grace which is big enough for any sin.” Still, it doesn’t feel right to me.

Where do we go from here? I’ll simply speak pastorally in a few directions.

To Jules Woodson: I am so, so sorry that you have faced all that you have. I’m sorry that someone you trusted and relied upon took advantage of that and abusively assaulted you sexually. And I’m sorry that others whom you trusted afterward betrayed you the way they did. You’ve never received the justice that your assault deserved, or the support and love that your church congregation had pledged to you. You’ve had to face two decades of pain, suffering, shame, loneliness, and false guilt because of the abuse of power and sexual violence of a pastor. My heart aches for you, and I pray that somehow you will find the true peace that Christ offers to sufferers.

To Andy Savage: I recognize that you saw the grievous nature of your sin almost immediately and owned that before Jules, and I acknowledge the remorse that I heard in your words as you spoke to Highpoint Church recently. I pray that those were truly sincere and not merely an abuser’s façade. I acknowledge that you simply may not have known what to do 20 years ago, and thus may have relied too heavily upon the counsel and guidance of men you trusted and who failed you. But your conscience, then and now, were and are telling you what was right, and you have followed the wrong path instead of heeding it. A video live-stream with a brief apology is not sufficient for the suffering your sin brought to another’s life. The apparent efforts made by you and others to minimize and cover up this sequence of sins appears manipulative, not repentant. As a fellow pastor and your brother in Christ, I would urge you to step aside from your leadership in the church, seek counseling and come to real terms with what havoc you brought into Jules Woodson’s life, and open yourself up to hearing from her directly about the pain you caused, admitting it and seeking true forgiveness.

To the leadership of the congregations involved: I appreciate that Larry Cotton has been put on leave of his current congregation in light of how he failed to act appropriately years ago. I urge Highpoint Church to take this matter at least as seriously, and not present abuse and assault as something applaudable or as an opportunity for an object lesson. Don’t downplay the severity of your pastor’s sins, or cast him as a victim in this scenario. Be willing to speak boldly and frankly about sin, even if it risks bringing controversy or makes your congregants ill-at-ease. Please, don’t protect or shelter abusers and give them the cover of the leadership dealing with matters “internally”—handle them with appropriate transparency and in accordance with the law and with the ethics that Scripture demands of treating those who are vulnerable and victimized with dignity, respect, and justice. Be bold and faithful enough to practice biblical discipline even (especially!) when it comes to the leadership of the church. 

To believers in the Memphis area and elsewhere: please, demand of your church that they treat sexual abuse and child victimization as seriously as they possibly can. Ask them if they have child protection policies in place, and if they do not then ask why. If they are dismissive or flippant about the issue, then it is likely time to find a new church. And if you need to talk through this topic and don’t feel you have someone to talk to, feel free to reach out to me—if I don’t know the answers, I can put you in touch with someone who will.

Resources that are worth your time:

GRACE (God’s Response to Abuse in the Christian Environment) ministry

FaithfulProtection.org—a turn-key guide to child protection policies and practices for the local church

Hollow Cries and Doomsday Declarations

An old friend of mine recently linked to this article from a website he is affiliated with: "A Vital Call for the Vitals of Religion." A quick summary is this: the lack of a clear definition of what constitutes the "vitals of religion" (a phrase taken directly from the PCA's Book of Church Order) will inevitably lead to the Presbyterian Church in America looking like the liberal mainline denomination that the PCA split from, the PC-USA.

I think the writer is correct that what constitutes "vitals" changes over time, but I disagree that this automatically means an increasing tendency toward liberalism. I think the PCA is actually a case in point that this simply isn't so.

When the PCA was formed in 1973, it was done under the banner of the authority of Scripture as the central and most fundamental "vital" to be subscribed to. Fair enough—but any good Baptist then or now could subscribe to that, and thus many of the PCA churches established in the early years of the denomination were quite baptistic in form and practice, if not technically in their claim of theological standards. I personally have known ruling elders ordained during that era who admitted that they had never read the Westminster Confession of Faith. It wasn't really until the union with the RPCES in 1982 that a deeper commitment to distinctively Reformed doctrines became more prominent.

Since then, if anything, the PCA has gotten arguably more theologically conservative in its self-described "vitals" and in the documents adopted as containing our positions. The position papers on divorce and remarriage, homosexuality, and the insider movement are prime examples; even the position paper on creation, while broader than some would argue is acceptable, nevertheless defined parameters that clearly excluded certain views. Meanwhile, the study committee on Federal Vision theology (which many presbyteries now ask transfers and ordinands to avow their agreement to) also laid down some clear lines. Most recently, the study committee report at the last GA on women in the church asserted in no uncertain terms that there is no exegetical or ecclesiological basis for ordaining women to an office in the church.

(In addition to this incline instead of decline, our presbyteries are still assured their right to define the terms of their own membership in our preliminary principles, and some do.)

Thus, the persistent claims of a certain segment of the PCA that we're on a slippery slope where one slight misstep will undoubtedly result in the theological downfall of the denomination, to me, seems hollow or even bitter. There is a curmudgeonly quality to the way they continue to rant about this, with another article or blog post passed around once a month or so describing how the denomination is on the verge of theological heterodoxy. The one linked above is merely the latest example.

Meanwhile, some/many from that same segment seem increasingly committed to using unsavory tactics to accomplish their goals of fear-mongering and flag-planting at the Assembly level. I experienced this first-hand two General Assemblies ago, when I served on the Committee of Commissioners for the Administrative Committee (AC). As it happened, that was the year that the AC brought forth the recommendation to form a study committee on women in the church. As the discussion proceeded, it quickly became evident to me that the flag-planting crowd had worked hard (I'm almost inclined to say they "conspired") to stack the committee with men who would oppose this action, and indeed the result was that the committee's report recommended that the assembly vote it down.

Now, how do I know that they stacked the C of C thusly? Because when it was brought to the floor then those who opposed forming that study committee were obviously a minority. Yet the C of C structure is meant to be a representative body of the denomination as a whole. One would think if that were the case then the C of C would have had a greater diversity of voices than it did.

Ironically, the same voices that frequently serve as spokesmen for this group of flag-planters are quick to fuss about any other groups they perceive as colluding to subvert the will of the assembly as a whole—most recently, a group known as the National Partnership. The flag-planters assert that their actions are different, because if they gather or communicate then they do so openly for all to see. But experiences like mine with the AC committee of commissioners seem far too coincidental for this claim to be believed.

There have always been subsets of the denomination who discuss their views and make use of connections and relationships to enhance understanding and even cooperate in advancing certain points of view. Personally I've never been a part of one—unless you count the conversations over meals or drinks that take place organically. But they exist, and always have. I'm not particularly troubled by their existence, nor do I feel threatened by the presence of those groups that I may disagree with on certain issues.

What troubles me about the linked article, others like it, and the subset group that has devoted themselves to planting their flag and trying to "take back" the denomination as a bastion of conservative, orthodox Reformed theology is two-fold.

First, as I've asserted above, I think they are simply wrong—or at least presumptively overstating the status of the PCA. I believe that most other teaching elders of the denomination similarly consider their rants and prognoses as overblown hyperbole. But as is so often the case, yelling and stomping one's foot enough will make people pay attention, and thus the average member and even many ruling elders are given over to the misimpression that the latest heated discussion—or the next one—amounts to the PCA's having stepped on a trigger of a landmine, and we are about to be blown up.

Second, it presents as uncharitable at best, and unbrotherly at worst. A friend once commented that "no one outside of the PCA accuses us of being soft on conservative theology." I think that is still true. But the reputation of the PCA is being re-defined by the petty, bitter squabbles about whether we are conservative enough, rather than by our commitments to administering the Gospel effectively. The PCA is full of amazing testimonies of how God is at work using our humble denomination as an instrument of grace, but the loudest noises coming from within our midst seem to be grumbling instead of praise.

A final comment to how some of my fellow elders have taken on an uncharitable attitude is also immediately relevant: originally I began writing this out as a (much briefer) comment to my old friend's Facebook post that linked to the article. However, the last time I wrote a comment on something this friend posted, he deleted it. The only reason I can see for doing so is that he didn't want any words opposing or questioning his position. It's his Facebook wall, and he can choose to allow what he will—but if he's not planting a flag, it seems like he might be more open to iron sharpening iron even (or especially) on matters of vital importance.

Race, Racism, Culture, and Problems

In my small and relatively insignificant corner of the world, topics of race, racism, white culture, black culture, and the problems related to all of the above have been on my mind and heart heavily for the last few weeks. This has been a topic within my church (the Presbyterian Church in America), where it was the center of many conversations at our annual General Assembly last week. It has been a topic in the national news, when—as you already know, unless you’ve been out of touch with any news whatsoever—an avowed white supremacist entered an African Methodist Episcopal church in my home state and gunned down nine members of that congregation. It has been a topic within my own family for other more personal reasons. 

It’s a topic that I cannot avoid—not that I’m trying to avoid it, nor am I interested in doing so. Nevertheless, I’ve been reluctant to enter the fray regarding this topic, not least because I’ve felt that anything I may have to say about it is probably already being said much better by someone else, and on the other hand my own words about it would likely get drowned out by the many, many voices speaking up about it. 

But it is an important topic, and one that has rightly come front and center for the last year (beginning with the events and injustices in Ferguson, MO—another place and event that was close to me, as I called St. Louis home for longer than anywhere else other than my hometown. It has also been on my mind for the last year because, last summer, my family moved back to the Memphis, TN area, and as we re-acclimated to the culture here I’ve been reminded more times than I would like just how deeply Memphis and the Mississippi Delta region have been in the thick of racial tension for the last half-century and more.

As much as I’ve read about this vital issue, there are some things that I have yet to see someone articulate—or state in the way I would, from the perspective that I have—that may be worth hearing/reading. So I have set out to put a few thoughts into words and sentences, which hopefully will add to the many well-stated articles and blog posts out there as a voice of harmony: not singing the same “melody" as the rest, but also not so dissonant that it undermines the important words of others either.

(I’ve put these in “bullets” not because they are all that brief but due to the fact that the paragraphs below are related only loosely to each other.)

• The last day of General Assembly for the PCA (and particularly from about 7pm on) was incredibly moving, humbling, and, overall, a powerful and large step in the right direction. I am grateful that my denomination seems poised to take real action, from the highest levels on down, to make confession of our sins regarding racial injustice, inequality, and indifference. It is encouraging to see those who sometimes (and even frequently) disagree come together in unity to act on this. Yet I find myself wrestling with temptation to be pessimistic, and even cynical, about the possibilities of how this will play out: too many times, an action like this one (where something substantial happens at a denominational level) can serve as an excuse or even cover for local congregations that need to do much, much more than just pass resolutions to simply give a nod toward the denomination’s action and little or nothing more. I pray that the small part of me that doubts will be astounded by how wrong I am.
• Like many others, I applauded the words of one of the founding pastors of the PCA, Jim Baird, when he stood and gave assent to his own participation in racial injustice in the denomination’s early years. Like others, I recognized this publicly by posting a photo of him on Facebook and Twitter, calling his action “brave, humble, and heroic.” I stand by my claim that this was indeed a powerfully humble thing; however, after being checked by my friend Jeremy, I have reconsidered whether it was truly “heroic”—and I think now I must say that, as great a moment as that was, it fell short of true bravery and heroism. In re-reading the transcript of what was said, there were ways in which Dr. Baird hedged his words a little too much, and qualified his positions and actions too frequently. I’m certain that saying what he did took great humility and no small amount of courage, but it also strikes me as falling short of what we needed to hear from one of our remaining founding fathers: that the actions of many PCA churches were not just indifferent but aggressively (even if often passively) racist, that we need to repent of that as a denomination, and that local churches need to repent of that as congregations. Given the context—where he was in perhaps the very most favorable of all circumstances to make such a public confession—he would have had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, in making such a statement. It is impolite, I admit, to critique another man’s public confession of sin, and I apologize for that; but I feel the need to say it, as much to recant my own public statement as anything.
• There’s something to be said for giving people credit for “progress” when it comes to growth with regard to their worldview and cultural mindset, such as how they think about racism and those of other races. I’ve heard, and said myself, qualifications like, “…considering that they grew up in a racially segregated culture…” But let’s keep that in check; the American Civil Rights movement began over 60 years ago, and even the oldest generations among us have lived more than two-thirds of their lives under its influence. It’s time to stop giving a pass to people who persist in racist behavior (even—and especially—when it is more subtle and passive) just because they are old. I know a man who, in his 50s, decided to stop going by “Dick” and start self-identifying as “Richard” because he recognized that the former made some people uncomfortable. If he can change his very identity for something so relatively insignificant, who among us is unable to strive to change something that is as important as racism?
• I’ve heard and read the words of a number of people criticizing public officials for “politicizing” the shooting at Emmanuel AME Church of Charleston, SC. This doesn’t make any sense to me; isn’t this precisely what we both need and expect our civic leaders to do in a moment of local, national, and cultural crisis? It may be idealistic and even naïve of me, but I think that is actually what they are there for. Politicians are put into office to serve their constituencies, and service to them at this moment should look like a compassionate display of commitment to stand against such acts, as well as the motivations that beget such acts. Or, put another way: if circumstances like what we’ve seen this week are not the very reason for our civic leaders, then we actually have a very low view of the offices they hold (and should cease complaining when they “don’t lead” in other occasions).
• One thing that has struck me is just how deep the racist divide goes in terms of an “us vs. them” mentality, and how this affects the way people speak. At General Assembly, I heard someone say that they hoped that the African-American pastors in the PCA could/would “teach us” (my emphasis) how to relate to “them” more inclusively. I’ve read, in response to the Charleston shooting, that “we” (referring, of course, to white people) need to see this as the racially-motivated crime that it is. If true racial reconciliation is going to occur culturally—within the church and/or outside of her—then white people have to stop talking like this! “We” includes black people and white people, as well as hispanics, asians, and other ethnicities and/or races. Do I think about the fact that every time I say “we” or “us” and mean white people, I may be inadvertently setting up my black, asian, or other non-white brothers and sisters as outsiders? (I do now.)
• The shooting at Emmanuel AME was unquestionably a racist act, and as such fits the bill as a “hate crime.” It was a crime that was deeply rooted in sin and specifically in the disregard for the lives of others. Yes; AND, it’s also an act that should call us to consider how guns come into play in crimes like this. Sure, he could have used a knife, an axe, or a match—but he didn’t. (And can we agree that he probably would have been subdued without killing as many, at least, as he did, had he been using a knife or an axe?) We have sin problems in our culture, we have race problems, and we also have gun problems. Arguing that “guns are not the issue” is simply a false dichotomy and, in my opinion, willfully turning a blind eye to one of the pressing matters that also needs to be addressed, along with race and sin. Can we quit treating these as if they are simple “either-or” issues? (I say this as a gun owner, by the way.)
• It so happens that I am preaching tomorrow; I seriously considered setting aside the sermon I was planning to preach, and instead turning to Scripture to exhort the congregation about race and racism. I’m not going to, because I’m not the pastor of the congregation I’m preaching to and that is really his ministry to them, not mine. That said: if your pastor hasn’t seized upon the many cultural moments that have presented opportunity to preach about the problems of race and racism in our world, perhaps you should ask him why he hasn’t. The reconciliation of the gospel is not only about racial reconciliation (and some pastors err in seemingly trying to make it so), but it certainly does include racial reconciliation. You—and me, and all of us who sit under the preaching of God’s Word—both need and deserve to be taught and ministered to on that topic, especially when the topic is so pressing culturally.

Well, that’s all I have to say for now. Thanks, as always, to my tens of readers (if you’ve made it this far) for checking in.

Pep Rallies and Denominational Divides

…Or, why I don’t fit into “categories” (and I don’t think you do either)

If you’re into the “inside baseball” of denominational polity—and perhaps especially within the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA)—then the last couple of days have probably been an occasion for pondering and assessment. A couple of days ago, the latest issue of byFaith magazine (the PCA’s denominational publication) came in the mail, and yesterday byFaith’s website (byfaithonline.com) posted an article from it: “The State of the PCA” by Dr. Bryan Chapell. On the heels of that, today saw the publication of a response on the Reformation21 website: “Dear Bryan: Replying to ‘The State of the PCA’" by Dr. Rick Phillips.

Both articles are written by respected and influential men in the PCA. Dr. Chapell is the President Emeritus of the PCA’s Covenant Theological Seminary, a seasoned pastor, the author of a number of books, and the current (and soon-to-be outgoing) moderator of the denomination. Dr. Phillips is a leader and board member of a number of familiar ministries (the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals, The Gospel Coalition) as well as Westminster Theological Seminary, and is also a seasoned pastor and published author. While I don’t know Dr. Phillips personally, I do happen to have some background with Dr. Chapell—he was my professor at seminary, and also offered personal counsel to me on more than one occasion. What I know to be true of Dr. Chapell is, I am certain, also true of Dr. Phillips: these are men who deeply love Christ and his church, are committed to the advance of the gospel, and long for greater unity within the PCA.

Good Intentions

So I take for granted the fact that both articles have as their intent the goals of giving clarity to what has sown division among our denomination, and also identifying hoped-for paths toward overcoming that division. What I wonder, however, is whether the approach that these articles employ is useful to reach those goals—or are they actually counterproductive?

Both Dr. Chapell and Dr. Phillips do a fine job—though at different points—of highlighting areas where division rests. As I read each piece, I found things to affirm and agree with, recognizing wisdom in how they exposed particular problems in the PCA. It’s probably fair to say that, if you want to get an accurate picture of how to divide up the various members of the PCA according to categories, you should read both of these articles and generate something of a synthesis.

My question is: why do you want to divide us up that way?

Pep Rallies

I went to Hammond School, a small private school, from first to twelfth grade. It happened that this school had a pretty strong athletic program (regularly winning state championships in football, basketball, baseball, and soccer), and during my time there that was a point of great pride and unity among the student body. (That athletic tradition still continues, and is still a minor source of pride: “our” football team has gone to the state championship for the last eight years straight, winning six of those; both the boys’ and girls’ basketball teams competed in the state finals this year, and the boys’ team won it.)

Pep rallies at Hammond were an interesting experience. They were raucous, energetic events—we knew that this was one of the things that brought us together the most. Yet, there would inevitably be a point where the emcee would introduce some sense of intra-school competition, usually in the form of, “Which class can cheer [read: yell] the loudest?”

Was it the lowly freshmen? The coming-into-their own sophomores? The restless juniors? The confident seniors? Maybe even the rowdy eighth graders or the barely-adolescent seventh graders?

The thing is: this was a very small school. My graduating class had 34 members (so, yes, I finished in the top 30 of my graduating class). The whole K-12 student body was smaller than my wife’s single class. I had good friends who were four and five grade-levels above me, and by the time I graduated I knew most of those students below me down to the seventh grade. I still keep in touch with a number of fellow Hammond students (mostly via Facebook); recent sudden deaths of alums, even though not a part of my own class, stung as though they had been in my year.

Because the student body was so small, almost every school activity included students spanning four and five grade levels: school plays were for seniors and seventh graders alike; the chorus had eighth grade students alongside juniors. Varsity sports might celebrate a senior with several years’ experience behind him, while also starting a ninth grader (or sometimes even younger). There was much, much more unity among the student body than there was division, at least compared to most other schools. 

Though I didn’t realize it as much at the time, in retrospect it is clear that the purpose of grade levels like sophomore, junior, and senior at Hammond was more a function of academic progress than much else. Which is why the dynamic at pep rallies always seemed a bit contradictory and out of place. These were real categories, to be sure, and they mattered—but they were so far from embodying the real identities of the students themselves that appealing to them rang false.

They Don’t Fit

That’s how I feel about the imposed categories by Drs. Chapell and Phillips as well. I’m sure that there are pastors, ruling elders, and perhaps even whole congregations that line up tightly and tidily into the categories laid out in those two articles—just as I am confident that some of my Hammond classmates felt a much closer identification with their class-year than I did. But I don’t know many (if any).

Breaking it down a bit, with myself as an example:

• Dr. Chapell offered a point of division the PCA by broad age categories—which Dr. Phillips questioned, and rightly so. While generational experiences always matter in terms of how we understand our world, my own experience has consistently been that age matters only so much. Meanwhile, I’ve always found great affinity with older ministers and been able to work alongside them easily. Which age demographic do I fit better with, Dr. Chapell?
• I agree with Dr. Phillips’ assessment of the reasons and need to embrace the “cultural isolation” that Christians are increasingly facing; yet I also agree with Dr. Chapell’s claim (and hope) that there is still a place for “winning a hearing for a credible faith” as a means of influencing, if not the collective culture, then the individual culture-makers that we each encounter. And I’m suspicious of both takes, insofar as they seem to hold cultural change and impact as a metric for the faithfulness of ministry. So which “camp” am I a part of when it comes to culture, Dr. Phillips?
• It seems that an underlying difference that neither is willing to directly call out is the fundamental, 15-year-old debate (still raging behind the scenes) over “good faith” vs. “full” or “strict” subscription to our theological standards. This is the meta-issue beneath so much of what is discussed in these articles: some members of the PCA believe we opened the door to potential theological liberalism (or “progressivism”), while others believe that the best way forward is down the path we have taken. I’ve blogged about this before and obviously I come down on the side of being in favor of “good faith” subscription; nevertheless, almost all of my own exceptions are matters of “semantic” difference and not theological ones, and would probably pass the smell test for a “full subscription” examination. Still, the “full subscription” folks wouldn’t have me, because I’m open to the idea of “good faith” subscription in general. 
• Meanwhile, both Dr. Chapell and Dr. Phillips use terms like “progressive” and “confessionalist” (or “traditionalist” as Dr. Chapell has it)—which strike me as false dichotomies. The values attributed to each are not mutually exclusive, and every value deserves a place of emphasis in proper context. Are they simply saying that some of us err in misplacing emphasis at times? We all do that. All of these are highly-charged terms that entrench more than they helpfully qualify. 

To be fair, it is acknowledged (by Dr. Chapell directly, and I assume Dr. Phillips would agree) that these are not universal categories, but that they are common ones. I guess I would openly challenge that premise, recognizing that if that premise fails then the whole argument collapses.

How Does This Help?

One thing they both agree on is that there is a disconcerting degree of factioning in the PCA, and that we are dependent on particular factors (especially external ones) to overcome the divisions marked by these factions. This is not, in fact, the first time that we’ve been told this. At least three times in the past decade I can recall articles or presentations that sought to give a “state of the PCA” description and that essentially boiled us down to how we are divided.

What I keep asking myself is, “How does saying this over and over help the situation?"

I’m not sure that it helps at all. I think it might be hurting things a bit.

A few weeks ago, a few friends on Facebook linked to an article wherein an activist for homosexual civil rights was cited as saying that the ultimate goal of seeking the legalization of “gay marriage” was to obliterate the institution of marriage entirely. These Facebook friends and others were doing the digital equivalent of jumping up and down while pointing and angrily crying out, “You see? I knew it! They all want to destroy marriage!"

On one of those posts, though, a mutual acquaintance who happens to be homosexual commented, “That may be her goal, but it’s not everyone’s goal."

This is an important point that we shouldn’t miss: just because one person avows something, it does not necessarily make them a representative of all the rest of their “category”—even if they say that it does. Even if they are a recognized voice that often speaks for that category. The truth is that people are much more complex than that.

So it is in the PCA too: we hear or read something by someone in another “camp” and we infer conclusions about the whole camp through it. When we do that, our factions become more deeply divided and entrenched in our opposition. We turn against each other more readily and with greater perceived right to do so.

What if that which we are dependent upon to overcome divisions are not external factors but internal ones? What if the way through this as a denomination is to quit focusing so much on what divides?

A Team Sport

The kind of article that Drs. Chapell and Phillips have penned often set the tone for General Assembly—poorly. We read them, then we go in watching for the factions and picking sides. I think that’s a mistake.

In the end, General Assembly should be much like a pep rally (yes, I’m oversimplifying). It’s a chance to hear the voices from the different classes calling out their various cheers, and recognizing where we are different in good-natured ways that nevertheless are overcome by the ultimate unity behind the true goal: our team is in play.

When a team takes the field, every player has a different role. The goalie doesn’t often take shots on the opposing goal; the quarterback doesn’t usually make interceptions; the pitcher doesn’t field fly balls at the fence. They need each other to accomplish the purposes they have been given as a team—together.

Dr. Chapell closed his article saying that he hoped, "the great battle will lead to new levels of graciousness to each other and dependence upon the grace of our Savior.” Dr. Phillips agreed with that hope, but cautioned that his fear is that "the very thing which divides us is our approach to this common enemy, so that it is perhaps more likely that we will pull apart.” But I Corinthians 12:12–27 suggests that both of these statements are missing something: we’re not only dependent upon the grace of our Savior to extend that kind of grace to each other; we are, by the grace of our Savior, also dependent upon each other.

If you follow my analogy above, you’ll see where I’m going with this. Dr. Chapell (who, Dr. Phillips suggested, leans slightly to the “progressive” side) needs Dr. Phillips’ “confessionalist” approach to round out the team. Dr. Phillips needs Dr. Chapell, too. I need my confessionalist friends to check my progressive tendencies, and I need my progressive friends to motivate them. I need my progressive friends to balance out my confessionalism, and my confessional friends to encourage them.

In spite of my wondering about the value of either article, I agree with Dr. Phillips’ final statement as an urging toward this team spirit: “It is essential that we love one another and seek venues in which our personal and pastoral understanding may be increased.” May it be so.

Confessing corporate sins

One of the struggles that I’ve watched many fellow believers deal with is the loss of a sense of the corporate in today’s western (especially American) church. We usually have a great and growing grasp of our individual culpability and are (usually) grateful for the opportunities presented in worship to confess it. But when it comes to our collective ownership of the sins of the many, and our participation in a more “corporate” (not in terms of “corporations” a la businesses, but simply meaning severally over individually), we wrestle; as a pastor, I’ve heard more than once from a congregant, “I didn’t actually commit those sins; why do I need to confess them?"

We DO need to confess them, for several reasons:

• Our participation may not be active or direct, but often we are complicit (at least in simply turning a “blind eye”)
• Scripture promises that the sins of our forefathers are visited on us, which means that we bear the burdens of such sins
• We may have more inclination toward such sins than we are ready to admit (or even aware of), and our confession is good for our soul’s nurture
• At very least we find solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Christ who DO have direct guilt with such sins, as we are all members of the same body

We can look to Ezra for an example here. While he’s not one of the more well-known Old Testament figures, Ezra played a key role in re-establishing the people of Israel (the remnant that would set the stage for the New Testament) in the Promised Land. Ezra was from the priestly family of Levi, and was recognized by Jew and Gentile alike as being a righteous and upright man. He oversaw the initial rebuilding of the temple, and brought the Law of God (essentially, their form of the Bible) back to the people, calling them to hear and heed what God wanted them to know and to be.

Unlike many prominent leaders in Bible times, there is no indication from Scripture that Ezra was a man marked by his sinfulness. Was he a sinner? Of course. Did he struggle with the fallenness of man, as present in his own life? For sure. But, from all that we know, he was not proud (like Moses), an adulterer (like David), rash and headstrong (like Peter), or haunted by a torrid background (like Paul).

After calling on Israel to return to the Lord, for He had indeed restored them to the land He had promised would be theirs, and declaring the law of God to them—after he had specifically called on them to be set apart as God intended—Ezra received this report: “The people of Israel and the priests and the Levites have not separated themselves from the peoples of the lands with their abominations, from the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Jebusites, the Ammonites, the Moabites, the Egyptians, and the Amorites. For they have taken some of their daughters to be wives for themselves and for their sons, so that the holy race has mixed itself with the peoples of the lands. And in this faithlessness the hand of the officials and chief men has been foremost” (Ezra 9:1–2).

How did Ezra respond? He prayed—in confession for the sins of the people of Israel. Here is what he prayed:

"O my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift my face to you, my God, for our iniquities have risen higher than our heads, and our guilt has mounted up to the heavens. From the days of our fathers to this day we have been in great guilt. And for our iniquities we, our kings, and our priests have been given into the hand of the kings of the lands, to the sword, to captivity, to plundering, and to utter shame, as it is today. But now for a brief moment favor has been shown by the LORD our God, to leave us a remnant and to give us a secure hold within his holy place, that our God may brighten our eyes and grant us a little reviving in our slavery. For we are slaves. Yet our God has not forsaken us in our slavery, but has extended to us his steadfast love before the kings of Persia, to grant us some reviving to set up the house of our God, to repair its ruins, and to give us protection in Judea and Jerusalem.

“And now, O our God, what shall we say after this? For we have forsaken your commandments, which you commanded by your servants the prophets, saying, ‘The land that you are entering, to take possession of it, is a land impure with the impurity of the peoples of the lands, with their abominations that have filled it from end to end with their uncleanness. Therefore do not give your daughters to their sons, neither take their daughters for your sons, and never seek their peace or prosperity, that you may be strong and eat the good of the land and leave it for an inheritance to your children forever.’ And after all that has come upon us for our evil deeds and for our great guilt, seeing that you, our God, have punished us less than our iniquities deserved and have given us such a remnant as this, shall we break your commandments again and intermarry with the peoples who practice these abominations? Would you not be angry with us until you consumed us, so that there should be no remnant, nor any to escape? O LORD, the God of Israel, you are just, for we are left a remnant that has escaped, as it is today. Behold, we are before you in our guilt, for none can stand before you because of this."

(Ezra 9:6–15)

Look back over that prayer. How many times did Ezra pray, “THEY have done this…”? How often did he cast the blame for their corporate guilt on his fellow Israelites, as he had every right to do?

You won’t find any. Instead, over and over he prayed, “I am ashamed…” “Our iniquities have risen…” “We have been in great guilt…” and so on. Ezra claimed for himself the guilt of his fellow Israelites, past and present, and he prayed accordingly. 

Why? Because there was not merely individual sin; there was corporate sin present among the people. Ezra knew this, and took it up as his own—even though he was not guilty of this sin; in fact, he had been the one calling them out of it.

“But wait,” you say. “Ezra was a priest—that’s exactly what he was supposed to do: intercede for his guilty fellow men.” Exactly. And what does the Apostle Peter say to us, the church?

"But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (I Peter 2:9, emphasis added).

We are the ones now called to take up Ezra’s model and intercede for the guilt that is upon us corporately, as well as individually. We are not freed from the guilt that those corporate structures we are a part of—including (and especially) the church—have, simply because of our individual salvation in Christ. 

Christ died for our corporate sins, too—and promises us that, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive usour sins and  to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (I John 1:9, emphasis added). So we must join in confessing the sins of our corporate guilt, just as we have and do confess our individual sins.

Can elders rotate?

I was recently (briefly) part of a discussion on a Facebook group for PCA Teaching Elders and Ruling Elders (I know, that may sound like it has strong potential to be a dull-fest—it’s actually a great group), and the topic was on elders—specifically, ruling elders in this case—having an agreed-upon “rotating Session” system.

For those unaware, here’s a brief synopsis: ordination to the office of ruling elder is life-long and perpetual, unless an elder gives up his office either voluntarily or involuntarily (the latter being due to a discipline issue). However, elders are not always active in their office; some will step off of “active duty” on their Session for a time, or perhaps they move to another congregation and aren’t (yet) elected to serve in the office. The question, then, is whether a Session should be “permanent,” in which case an elder serves indefinitely unless/until he moves or requests a break; or whether a Session should be “rotating,” wherein elders serve for a defined “term” of some stated number of years, after which he rotates off for a stipulated period of time.

Part of what makes this a controversial topic is the fact that in a rotating system, elders typically must be re-elected by the congregation in order to resume duties as active Session members. This seems, to some, to be antithetical to the perpetual nature of the office of elder. This is a sticking-point for most discussions (at least the ones that I’ve been a part of) on this topic.

For full disclosure, let me say that I lean favorably toward rotating Sessions, as I believe they have many merits and, in healthy congregations, few disadvantages. I should also note that neither of the congregations I have served as pastor have had them; and, in both cases, I was happy to submit to my fellow elders and to the will of the congregation about the matter.

In the particular discussion that I mentioned above, there were a number of points raised (or at least referred to), which I’d like to address. I believe that the stock answers to these questions, especially from the decriers of the rotating Session concept, are shortsighted and/or somewhat lacking in nuance. Therefore, this isn’t meant as rebuttal, but rather as a “fuller sense” of the questions and issues at hand.

(A couple of supporting “documents” were mentioned in this discussion, and I will respond to two of them directly; one is a blog post, which can be found here: Should Elders Be Ordained for Life?; the other is an article by John Sittema, from the OPC’s Ordained Servant magazine, entitled “Some Thoughts on Term Eldership." A further note here: I looked for John Murray’s article, “Arguments Against Term Eldership,” to no avail; perhaps it has been pulled down from sites that previously had it, as it is apparently included in a collection of works by Murray published by Banner of Truth.)

Claim #1: no biblical warrant

One of the most emphatically asserted claims is that “there is no biblical warrant for rotating terms of eldership.” It’s true; there is no proof text that I or anyone can point to where one of the apostles urged elders to rotate on and off of Sessions. Open and shut case?

Not quite. As the author of the URCNA blog linked above acknowledges, there is no biblical warrant for forbidding them outright, either! In fact, what is striking to me is that Scripture is essentially silent on the question of whether a ruling elder can or should serve indefinitely or on a rotating basis. At best, this question should be seen as an example of adiaphora—matters that are not essential, and of which Scripture displays a certain amount of indifference with regard to practice. (To say otherwise is to shift the burden of proof—which is a fallacious argument. It may also be a case of Bulverism.)

Two other factors on the “biblical warrant” question come to mind, though. First, if we insist that the lack of any biblical support for a rotation system means that it shouldn’t be done, doesn’t that also prohibit any kind of sabbatical or inactive duty whatsoever? In other words: as long as an elder remains a member of a congregation that has installed him as a ruling elder, is there any biblical justification for any cessation of that active duty (short of a sin/discipline issue)? It seems like you can’t really have it both ways here.

Second: when we lack a normative or prescriptive basis from Scripture (as we absolutely do with this issue), it’s useful to look for examples. Admittedly, we don’t have examples of ruling elders rotating off or taking sabbaticals from their duties. But we do have examples of teaching elders who do so! (Think of Timothy and Apollos, who served as pastors of New Testament-era churches, but only for a time before stepping down.) And interestingly, it often seems to be the stringent “two-office” guys who protest the loudest about a rotating system (the PCA Position Paper on the number of offices is helpful in understanding what this means). But if ruling and teaching elders are the same office utterly, why the double-standard when it comes to how pastors (teaching elders) are called to local churches, but usually only for a season? In other words, why don’t we expect pastors to serve congregations for the duration of their active lives of ministry? 

(I’ll admit that this last point is weaker; I believe, though, that its weakness is due to the inconsistency inherent to a straight-up “two office” view.)

Roy Taylor remarked that, "To argue that a rotational system is "unbiblical" is to infer that Calvin, Knox and the First General Assembly of the Church of Scotland (to which we trace our lineage) were either ignorant of the biblical teaching, in the least, or deliberately chose to ignore the biblical teaching.” Are we ready to do that?

Claim #2: the permanence of the office

Another problem highlighted with a rotating system is that it appears (to some) to fly in the face of our view of the office of elder as a permanent office: men who are ordained to the office never stop being elders. How can you have this and also a rotating Session?

Sittema is helpful here, as he points out the unfortunate association of the concept of “election” with regard to church offices to other forms of “election,” particularly of the more political form. This, he says, introduces some “bad habits” in terms of a congregation’s view of what it means when they elect men to serve as active Session members. He’s right, too, that such a bad habit—or rather, severe misunderstanding—leads to a highly problematic understanding of what an elder’s role in the local church actually is. In this case, a rotating system can be a further obstacle toward proper understanding of the office; indeed, it can further entrench the misunderstandings.

I think there are two things going on here, and both should be addressed. First, if there are misunderstandings about what elders do, they should be corrected. It is the Session’s job to instruct the congregation in the proper concepts of eldership—what it is, and what it isn’t—and to labor faithfully to disciple their flock in what they should expect from their elders. There is absolutely a pastoral and shepherding nature to the office, as is clear from Scripture and from the PCA’s (and others’s) church order; this is not in dispute by either side of this discussion. Elders must shepherd; they are not merely “board members” (which is exactly why I despise the label “Elder Board” instead of “Session”). 

Second, I believe there is a persistent misunderstanding in the PCA (again, among others) in the difference between “being an elder” and “being a member of the Session.” A church’s Session is the seat of its oversight, and is the sole authoritative body for a local congregation. No elder has any authority unto himself, except that which the Session delegates to him (this includes the pastor!). Elders are shepherds, and no less than that—but also, apart from their function as members of the Session, no more than that. 

This is actually the very reason why a healthy rotation system can benefit a congregation. The Session's authority and oversight requires certain kinds of work and demands attention that can sometimes stand in the way of a shepherd fulfilling all of his ordinary shepherding duties. (Most of us who are elders have been a part of Sessions where some matter arises that requires every minute of attention we can give it, for a season; this isn’t ideal, but it is the reality.) When an elder rotates off of the Session, he doesn’t cease to be an elder to the congregation; his responsibilities as an overseer, however, are lessened. In at least two congregations I’ve worked with (prior to my own ordination) where a rotating Session was in place, the “inactive” elders were really even more active in their shepherding of the congregation! They were freed to focus on visitation, teaching, and other shepherding responsibilities because they weren’t also given the demands of the congregation’s oversight.

Again, Sittema is helpful on this; even as he personally objects to rotating systems, he urges: “If your congregation elects elders for terms of office, and then grants them release from active duty for a time, make clear to all that they are still in service, even though the nature of their service may be changed for a time."

Claim #3: the lack of continuity 

A frequent complaint about a rotating system is that an elder serving a three-year term is barely getting started in his work before his term is up! And it is true that a three-year term (which is a very common length of term for rotating systems) goes by very quickly. An elder serving for only three years would have to hand off a lot of responsibilities, and each hand-off would potentially slow down the progress of the proper oversight of the church. Is there a problem of continuity in a rotating system?

Probably not—mainly because this is something of a straw-man argument. It’s true that most rotating systems specify some term in the three- or four-year range. However, I’ve never seen such a system in place that didn’t allow, or even expect, that two consecutive terms could/would be served back-to-back. So now we’re up to six years.

(In one church where I worked, there were at least two examples of men who had been asked to serve a third term of a single year—and, upon his concurrence, the congregation had voted to approve this. Admittedly, this begins to undermine the very purpose of a rotating system! But it goes to show that, when continuity demands it, such a system can accommodate.)

Further, any major lack of continuity many indicate a lack of understanding of what it means to be an elder (see #2 above)—because, in a healthy system, an elder rotating off of his Session should actually be able to do more in terms of shepherding. This may extend to his participation in presbytery or Assembly-level work, as well, as there is no stipulation (to my knowledge) that, for example, elders serving on presbytery committees or commissions must be active on their congregation’s Session. 

Also: hand-offs happen all the time. Sometimes they are inconvenient, and even problematic. But there is very little difference in a hand-off that happens because of an elder retiring or moving, and a hand-off that happens because of a rotation. Oh, but one difference is key: with a rotation system, the hand-offs are both expected and normal, so everyone is used to it.

Claim #4: not enough men

Opponents of rotating systems state that rotations mean that leaders are annually burdened with the responsibility of finding qualified men as candidates. Nominations, training, examinations, and elections have to take place each year, in order to fill the next year’s “class” of elders. And what if no qualified men are found? Sessions will find less-than-qualified men and “create an Ishmael” (so says the URCNA blog post) instead of waiting for the Lord. What about this?

Here we have a continuation of the straw-man from #3, because the possibility of current elders serving consecutive terms is not taken into account. If there are no fit candidates to be newly-ordained and installed, then it is likely that at least some of the elders whose term is “up” can remain active for a second term.

This argument also ignores the fact of a long-standing rotating system: that, potentially, there will be a handful of men in the congregation who have served as elders previously and who are currently inactive; and, that these men might be re-activated for a new season of service on the Session. In a healthy church with a rotation, elders are multiplied over the years and there is virtually always a pool of fit, trained, and experienced candidates.

But isn’t this claim also an indictment against the pastors and elders who have neglected discipleship of their congregations? In a church where discipleship is actively occurring (led by the elders, teaching and ruling), God raises up those who will be led into service—as volunteers, as teachers, as deacons, and yes—as elders. Could it be that the reason why there is often such a shortage of “qualified” men for eldership is because the current elders haven’t identified men that could be qualified and sought to prepare them to be such?

Claim #5: not enough men, part deux

One interesting claim against a rotating Session is that it keeps the Session from growing to the size that it could if every possible elder simply was added to the existing Session. Many hands make light work—and by rotating some off, it keeps the workload unnecessarily high for the active elders. Shouldn’t we simply build up our Sessions with every elder that we can?

Three problems here. First, this continues the fallacy that an “inactive” elder is doing nothing at all. If inactive elders continue to fulfill their office as they are able, the workload will be diluted for the rest. 

Second, if a Session is concerned that the ratio of elders to congregants is getting too imbalanced, there may be deeper problems at work. It may be that the congregation is growing numerically, but not enough discipleship is going on to accommodate the growth in a spiritual parallel—and consequently, there are not enough potential candidates to be nominated for eldership. Or it could be that the Session simply isn’t accounting for this numeric growth in the way that they present the need for elders to the congregation, come time for nominations—and they need to ask for more elders than before.

Ultimately, though, this isn’t the Session’s final decision. In the PCA at least, our church order states that the congregation determines the number of officers to be elected, not the Session. The Session can (and should) make recommendations, and if they have taught their members well on the function and role of the elder then the congregation should happily accommodate the need for more elders! But it is the congregation’s decision. (Which, I would argue, means that the decision for whether a Session should be permanent or rotating should also be a congregational decision, after much instruction.)

Claim #6: we just don’t do that around here

In Sittema’s article from The Ordained Servant, he acknowledges that a rotation system (“term-eldership” in his words) is more of a “continental Reformed” approach to church order, rather than one of the Scottish/Westminster persuasion. The URCNA post perpetuates this, too, touting that the permanent/indefinite Session has a “long history” going back to our Scottish roots. Are we bound to a permanent Session because of our presbyterianism?

I’m all for learning from the wisdom of our tradition, and I definitely think we shouldn’t throw something out that is a long-standing universal practice (and especially not because it is a long-standing practice!). Yet here’s another potential fallacy, or a couple of them: this could be an inverse Chronological Snobbery (claiming that it is true simply because today’s thinkers are inherently inferior to those in a past era, also called an Appeal to Tradition) or an Inductive Fallacy (saying “here are many examples, therefore it must be so”). We have to be careful not to fall into a sectarianism about this kind of thing, because the Scots got it wrong sometimes, too. 

Why can’t we learn from the continentals, as well as from the Scots and Westminster folk? I don’t see why there must be a bifurcation, especially on something like this.

In the PCA, our Stated Clerk, Roy Taylor, commented extensively on the question of whether a rotating system is allowable within our polity. He said:

A rotational system of officers is in keeping with the early history flowing from the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century. John Calvin led in restoring the office of Ruling Elder in reforming the polity of the Church in Geneva in the Reformation. Those who hold to Presbyterian polity trace their theological-polity lineage to him. Calvin instituted a rotational system of officers. It is interesting to note that they had one-year terms.

Is a rotating system “un-presbyterian”? Not according to our polity, nor that of some key players in our heritage. 

Freedom for Sessions!

Let me state plainly what I implied above: Sessions are free to go in either direction here. I may have a strong opinion about it, and many reasons why I think a rotating system is beneficial—but it would be wrong of me to impose that on even my own Session if they are not in agreement. It would be even more wrong of me to insist that other Sessions choose one way or the other, because there is no right and wrong direction to go here. Frankly, those who assert that there is are the ones in the wrong, in my view.