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.

The challenge of strict subscription

A friend of mine has asked the same question in several forms, several times: When it comes to the ordination standards in the PCA, specifically regarding our subscription to the Westminster Standards, what is the point of subscription at all if it isn't full, unqualified subscription?

History

First, a little background: the Westminster Standards are a set of documents, consisting of the Westminster Confession of Faith, the Westminster Larger Catechism, and the Westminster Shorter Catechism. These were the product of an assembly in the mid-1600s, which set forth the theological standards for many Reformed congregations and denominations (especially Presbyterian ones). In my denomination, the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA), the Westminster Standards, along with our Book of Church Order, form the constitution of our church as a denomination. (Presbyteries and congregations may add to that constitution through by-laws, standing rules, etc. — so long as the additions are not in conflict with the constitution.)

A little more background: in 2002, the 30th General Assembly of the PCA voted to approve "Good Faith Subscription" to the Westminster Standards by changing the Book of Church Order, chapter 21, section 4, which states explicitly what the requirement for subscription is and shall be (and how it shall be determined). With the passage of this amendment, the following language was added to the PCA's constitution:

While our Constitution does not require the candidate's affirmation of every statement and/or proposition of doctrine in our Confession of Faith and Catechisms, it is the right and responsibility of the Presbytery to determine if the candidate is out of accord with any of the fundamentals of these doctrinal standards and, as a consequence, may not be able in good faith sincerely to receive and adopt the Confession of Faith and Catechisms of this Church as containing the system of doctrine taught in the Holy Scriptures (cf. BCO 21-5, Q. 2; 24-5, Q.2).


Therefore, in examining a candidate for ordination the Presbytery shall inquire not only into the candidate's knowledge and views in the areas specified above, but also shall require the candidate to state the specific instances in which he may differ with the Confession of Faith and Catechisms in any of their statements and/or propositions. The court may grant an exception to any difference of doctrine only if in the court's judgment the candidate's declared difference is not out of accord with a fundamental of our system of doctrine because the difference is neither hostile to the system nor strikes at the vitals of religion.

The alternative to "Good Faith" Subscription as described above is "Full" or "Strict" Subscription, which would turn the very first sentence of the added language on its head, in effect saying: "Our Constitution requires the candidate's affirmation of every statement and proposition of doctrine in our Confession of Faith and Catechisms." And this is essentially the basis of my friend's question; why not require Full Subscription?

Problem 1: "I'm right, you're wrong"

One presbytery asked me, in examination, "Do you believe in Strict Subscription to the Westminster Standards?" to which I replied, "Believe it? I've seen it with my own eyes!" And I have; I know brothers in several presbyteries, including some in which I have been a member, who are Full/Strict Subscriptionists. I count some of them as my friends. I don't have a problem, in principle, with their claim of being a Strict Subscriptionist — though I DO have a problem with some of them who hold it against me that I am not also one.

Which brings up the first issue with Strict Subscription: the "I'm right, you're wrong" issue.

As stated in the second added paragraph in BCO 21.4 (as well as in BCO 19.2.e), presbyteries have a right to determine exactly what their standards for membership shall be. A presbytery may, if it chooses, apply a "Full Subscription" standard for all ordinands and transfers, and refuse membership to any Teaching Elders or prospective Teach Elders who do not meet that standard. Some PCA presbyteries have done this, more or less (though the standard sometimes seems to be selectively-applied).

Many PCA presbyteries have elected to apply the "Good Faith Subscription" standard, however. And in each of those presbyteries, her members must follow the standards determined by the whole of Presbytery. Therefore, even members who themselves are Strict Subscriptionists are required to judge ordinands and transfers according to the standards set by their Presbytery — not according to their own standards for subscription. If an ordinand or transfer declares an exception to a particular phrase or idea in the Westminster Standards which the Strict Subscriptionist believes to be "hostile to the system of doctrine" or "[striking] at the vitals of religion" — but the rest of his Presbytery views as an acceptable exception — the burden of proof is on the Strict Subscriptionist to show that the rest of the body is wrong.

In one presbytery I have been a member of (which accepted Good Faith Subscription), a fellow presbyter who is (or at least was) a Strict Subscriptionist would regularly vote against the approval of every part of an ordinand's exam, if that ordinand had registered any exception to the Westminster Standards. Setting aside the problem of a fallacy of composition (does he REALLY disagree with EVERY part of the exam? Or just the theological parts — which he has the specific opportunity to vote against?), this is simply a divisive practice which sets the Strict Subscriptionist at odds with his brothers and fellow presbyters unnecessarily. Personally, I think an argument could be made to discipline someone like this if that spirit were to persist.

But this is not just the problem of one or two Teaching Elders; it is increasingly common to hear (or more likely, read — on the internet) from a Teaching Elder who doesn't like the way a certain matter was decided by the courts of the church (usually in favor of allowing someone's real or perceived variation from the Standards), so they make no bones about it. Tell me, which Teaching Elder is better exercising his vows to submission to the brethren: the one who registered his exceptions and allowed the courts to judge them, willing to accept their judgment either way; or the one who speaks out openly and publicly in opposition to that judgment, invoking accusations of compromise, heterodoxy, and heresy?

Problem 2: Language changes

Can we agree that, in the 400+ years since the writing of the Westminster Standards, it is possible — even likely — that the meaning and usage of some of the words and phrases have changed?

Certainly, anyone who has studied language would acknowledge this in principle; seminarians learn Koine Greek, not Classical or Modern Greek, because the nuances of the language are sufficiently different so that the translation, and more importantly the interpretation, of the text of the New Testament could be unclear or even wrong if one of the others were employed. Even more so English, itself a fairly young language, and one which has seen significant changes even in the last 50 years, let alone 400.

How do those language changes affect our ability to subscribe to the statements? I think it has the potential to affect them greatly. This is precisely why one of the descriptions of such an exception is that the stated difference is "merely semantic in nature" — meaning, essentially, we would word it differently today, we all know that, and that is basically what said exception is affirming.

Otherwise, consistency questions arise by the handful. Should we insist on a specific English translation of the Bible, for similar consistency (perhaps the KJV, as that is the version the writers of the Westminster Standards employed)? If the language of the Standards is immutable, what does that suggest about amendments to it? And so on.

[As an aside: this can be equally a problem with our BCO, as well. We have to allow for the fact that things aren't perfectly worded, as well as for the possibility likelihood that some of the language is archaic and therefore less useful.]

Problem 3: Historical precedent

In American Presbyterianism, there is a long history of Good Faith Subscription. In 1729, the Adopting Act was passed, which required that every Teaching Elder present to his synod/presbytery his "scruples" regarding differences and exceptions to the Westminster Standards, which would then be judged as to whether they were differences on essential or non-essential matters. Sound familiar?

The point isn't what constituted essential vs. non-essential matters, or even what precipitated any sort of compromise that this act represented between "liberal" and "conservative" theological convictions. The point is that they all agreed that some matters were essential, while others are non-essential — even for the ministers of the Church.

The other point is that this is always about submission to the body. No Teaching Elder simply gets to decide whether his exceptions are or not about essential matters (and further steps have been taken in the PCA in recent years to ensure that this in not ever assumed to be the case). Rather, he subjects himself to the judgment of his presbytery — and, if there are questions there, then the presbytery itself is subject to the review of the General Assembly.

But the adamant Strict Subscriptionist (and know this: NOT ALL Strict Subscriptionists are adamant) will reject it all: the historical precedent and practice, the vote of the General Assembly to allow her presbyteries to enact Good Faith Subscription as they wish, the judgment of those presbyteries about which matters are essential and non-essential, and the review of the General Assembly of those judgments. Instead, he will grumble about how wrong everyone is but him (and now we're back to problem #1 again).

Problem 4: Constitutional issues

The original Westminster Standards of 1646 said some things that are NOT in our Westminster Standards today — particularly, it stated that civil magistrates had the authority to call for synods and councils of the Church, and that the Pope was the antichrist. I don't agree with either of those — do you?

Neither did the Presbyterians in early U.S. history — which is why, when they adopted the Westminster Standards for their constitution in 1789, they removed these portions of the Standards.

One of the "trick" questions that is often asked during an ordination trial is this one: "Why isn't the Bible part of the constitution of the PCA?"

The answer: because the Bible cannot be amended.

As I mentioned above, the Westminster Standards, along with the PCA Book of Church Order, are the constitution of my denomination. As a constitution, both of these documents can be amended. And, in fact, they SHOULD be amended, from time to time. We pass amendments to the BCO every year, and it is a very dynamic document. The Westminster Standards are much less so. Still, the writers of the Standards themselves recognized that their work should not be seen as immutable:

All synods or councils, since the Apostles' times, whether general or particular, may err; and many have erred. Therefore they are not to be made the rule of faith, or practice; but to be used as a help in both. (WCF 31.3)

These writers had themselves in mind, first and foremost, when they wrote that paragraph. I am as certain of this as I am of anything else that I believe about the Westminster Confession. We would do well to think like that, as well.

These words are not canon; they are not written in stone, and they can be and have been amended. I have little doubt that, within my lifetime, they will be again.

In light of that, the next problem arises...

Problem 5: Which Standards?

This is the question I most want to ask my Strict Subscriptionist friends (and HAVE asked some of them). Is their Strict Subscription to the original 1646 version? If so, do they register their exceptions to the 200+ year-old amendments? And if not, how do they justify their claim to "Strict" Subscription?

More importantly: if the PCA were to amend the Standards in the years to come (likely, since we've seen several overtures asking for that at the last couple of General Assemblies), how would they handle those amendments? If they are Strict Subscriptionists to THIS version of the Standards, would they register exceptions to the amendments?

The best answer I have gotten from a Strict Subscriptionist friend is, "I would follow the will of the church — and if the Assembly votes to amend the constitution, I submit myself to that." Meaning, they would be just as strictly a Strict Subscriptionist to the new version as they are to the current one.

But to that I say, "Okay, but the Assembly HAS voted to allow exceptions, by way of an amendment to our constitution; why is that different?"

Crickets.

I don't think there is a good answer to these questions, if you are a Strict Subscriptionist. At least, not if by "good" you mean (at least) "consistent" — which I do.

And that leads me to my last problem (for now).

Problem 6: Inconsistency abounds

In one presbytery examination, the Teaching Elder being examined (who was transferring in) claimed that he took no exceptions at all to the Westminster Standards. When the floor was opened for questions, he was asked, "Would you please describe for us your practices for the Sabbath day?" After some hemming and hawing, he eventually said, "I admit that my Sabbath-day practices are not in accordance with what is described in the Westminster Confession of Faith."

What should the body have done? As I see it, our options were two: either discipline him for openly and callously violating his own convictions about the fourth commandment, or help him to craft a statement of exception that brought his practices into conformity with his (newly) declared convictions. (We did neither, by the way.)

In another exam on another day, a Teaching Elder was asked about his exception to WCF 21.8, concerning Sabbath-day practices: "Would you participate in organized sports on Sundays, or would you allow your children to do so?" His response was, "Well, I like to watch NFL football, so I guess I would have to say 'yes.'" The questioner had no response (possibly because he himself enjoyed watching professional sports on Sundays, as well).

In yet another exam, a brother openly stated that he was a "Strict Subscriptionist" — which precipitated a question about whether the Pope was, indeed, the antichrist. He first dismissed the question on the basis that our current version of the Westminster Confession of Faith did not contain that accusation, but then backpedaled and began to argue that, in fact, the Pope was AN antichrist. (But wait: if you claim to strictly subscribe to the language of the original 1646 version, that document actually says, "THE antichrist" — not merely "AN antichrist." So would that be an exception, because the original writers were wrong to say "THE"?)

The point here is this: I don't know very manyany Strict Subscriptionists who are consistent. There is always some aspect of the Standards that they work out some nuance about, or qualify in some way.

Conclusion

Early in my years of ministry, a good friend and mentor commented to me that, "Anyone who says they don't have ANY exceptions to the Westminster Standards probably hasn't read them very carefully."

I think he's right, and my experiences (even with Strict Subscriptionists) stand as anecdotal evidence that he is. That's why I have a couple of pages' worth of exceptions registered with my presbytery (as I did with the presbytery I was ordained in). So far, each presbytery I've been a member in has judged me to be orthodox in my beliefs, and for that I am grateful.

But if I were convinced that Scripture did not teach something that was considered to be a "vital" matter in the Standards, I would submit to the ruling of the Body on that — even if it eventually meant losing my ordination. (I hope they would find that I had a teachable spirit, and would respond to that accordingly first before stripping me of credentials!) The Westminster Standards cannot be viewed as infallible, and I will gladly leave any body in which they are viewed as such.

I also think that, if the writers of the Standards were around today, they would be a little bit aghast that we were still using a 400 year-old document as our confession of faith. But I think they would also allow that Teaching Elders should be able to note our "scruples" with the non-essential matters of the documents (though I consider the term "scruples" to be a matter of difference, if only a semantic one.)

Why I Love General Assembly

[From Pastor Ed… for June, 2013]

During our time away in June (almost four whole weeks!), I'll spend five days in Greenville, South Carolina for the 41st General Assembly of the PCA — our annual meeting for the whole denomination. I thought it might be worthwhile to use my column this month to mention a few things about General Assembly, and why I love attending it every year.

What is General Assembly?

A lot of people don't really know what General Assembly is; one year (when G.A. was in Virginia Beach), a well-meaning church member asked me if I had enjoyed my week on the sand working on my tan! In fact, I only saw the beach when I was driving past it on the way to the convention center…

Our denomination's constitution calls for a meeting, at least annually, wherein the entire denomination gathers. Every man ordained as a Teaching Elder may register as a Commissioner, and every congregation may also send representative Ruling Elders as Commissioners. Typically, there are between 1200 and 1500 men present as registered Commissioners (meaning they can participate in discussion and vote on voting matters). Usually there are another few hundred men there who are not registered, as well as hundreds of wives and children.

Throughout the week, a number of things happen. Seminars are offered about a wide range of topics, which can be great food for thought and discussion. Fellowship events are organized for all manner of groupings, from seminary alumni gatherings to missions presentations to further specialized training. A large hall of exhibitors offer opportunities to gather information about ministry matters, denominational agencies, further teaching and seminary training, and what's new in Christian publishing. The PCA Bookstore sets up a large store presence, and many books are available at a discount.

The assembly itself is also an interesting series of events. There will be reports from the different agencies — domestic and foreign missions, Covenant College and Covenant Seminary, the PCA Foundation and Retirement & Benefits, Ridgehaven (our camp and conference center), Reformed University Fellowship, the Administrative Committee, and our Christian Education & Publications division. There are also reports and words of greeting from sister denominations, and information on our formal affiliations with them. We'll hear reports from study committees and receive recommendations from them for how we might act on their findings. There are discussions about how we might improve our church constitution, and actions that we take to exercise oversight and accountability.

Then there's worship: every day, the whole gathered assembly (including non-registered folks) gather to worship together. Some of the best preachers in the denomination are invited to open God's Word to us, and we share in celebration of the Lord's Supper in the opening service. Additionally, throughout the day we will often pause for prayer, and we regularly take time to sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs together.

Finally, there's the informal fellowship that abounds. Many friends old and new reunite each year: seminary classmates, former co-workers and fellow pastors, men who served together in presbyteries at some point, and brothers who have grown in friendship simply by attending the assembly year after year. Often, these are the only times these friends connect, but this annual re-grouping is much like a class reunion or a homecoming.

What I Love

Frankly, I love each part of what I named above. I could go through and tell why each delights me in its own way (and I would be happy to if you ask me!). But there are some specific things that make me look forward to it each year…

• Being Presbyterian: I love to see the Body of Christ at work, coming together beyond the boundaries of the local congregation and collaborating, cooperating, engaging in healthy and brotherly discussion, and seeking a common end. While I inevitably disagree with some of the things said, all of us seek the same end: Christ's glory and the advance of His Kingdom. And part of what is great about being Presbyterian is that, ultimately, we are called on to trust the larger Body of Christ — and the decisions made in gatherings like this — over our own preferences.
  
• Continuing Relationships: I've learned that there are far too many friends to re-connect with than there is time to do it. Every year, I fill up my calendar with appointments for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and other free times. There isn't a lot of extra time at G.A., but I try to make use of as much of it as possible.
  
• Seminars: I usually attend one or two seminars each year; the list of possible topics is always very long, and it's hard to decide! I've also had the privilege of teaching a seminar or two most years, and this year I'll be teaching another: "Rethinking Biblical Repentance". I'm always challenged by the prospect of developing my seminars (and this year is no different), as well as by the discussion that ensues during and after my seminars. I'm always grateful for the opportunity to share ideas with others, and seminars are a super occasion to do so.
  
• Doulos Resources: as most of you know, I serve as the Director and Board Chairman for a small side-ministry called Doulos Resources; our goal is to equip the church, and especially the leaders of the church, with resources in order to build up the Body of Christ. Our annual meeting is always on the Tuesday of General Assembly, and it is a wonderful time to connect with the dear friends and brothers I serve with.
  
• Committee Meetings: most years, I have been asked to represent our presbytery on one of the "Committees of Commissioners" — these are committees that meet before the assembly officially convenes, in order to read over the records and actions of the various ministries and agencies of our denomination. This year, I will serve on the Committee of Commissioners for Covenant College, and I'm looking forward to considering with the other commissioners how God has been at work through this great school (especially during the first year of their new President, Derek Halverson).
  
• Exhibits: the exhibit hall is a great place to learn about new programs, curricula, missions efforts, and other ways that our local church can better minister to our members and to/with the larger church. I usually have a few things that I want to seek out each year, in hopes of gleaning some ideas for advancing the ministry of our church once I get home.

Thanks for enabling me to go to our General Assembly! I expect it will be a lot of hard work, and probably a little exhausting! But it will also be an awesome time for ministry and for my edification.

Should we discipline?

In light of recent conversations and other events in our congregation, the question of whether church discipline is appropriate has arisen among some of our members. Should we discipline?

My answer, of course, is "yes" — not least, because the very idea of being Christ's "disciples" is that we are people devoted to spiritual discipline. (Did you note the shared root of the words disciple and discipline?)

We do well to keep in mind that when we refer to "discipline" generally we mean many things. We say that children are to be disciplined when they are shown their errors and corrected in them; that soldiers are people of discipline when they function well as a part of a larger unit; and that a musician is disciplined who devotes herself to the study and practice of her craft. All of these are true descriptors, also, of the discipline that those who profess their faith in Christ must be given to take up.

This is why, in the vows of membership that we ask of everyone seeking to unite with the local church in faith, we ask, "do you submit yourselves to the government and discipline of the Church, and promise to study its purity and peace?" (emphasis added). The discipline that is expected of believers is part and parcel to our faith's expression, and it requires the accountability of the local church for it to be properly exercised.

This kind of accountability is assumed by Jesus of His disciples. Consequently, we find the kind of discipline that becomes publicly enacted in churches: someone who is obstinate in their sin, refusing to receive or accept the accountability of the church, is brought into some state of discipline; maybe they are barred from the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper for a time, or perhaps they are excommunicated (which is to say, they are removed from the membership of the local church and regarded as unbelievers). How else could the church — or any individual believer — claim to be faithful to Jesus' explicit teaching in Matthew 18:15-20?

One thing to note here, though: while this corrective sort of discipline is the most public sort that is seen in the church (and the most difficult to handle and accept by the membership), it shouldn't be the only sort of discipline that is found in the local church. The other kinds — of devoted study and practice of the faith, and of the proper functioning of each member as part of a larger unit — must also be present. These are seldom highlighted or even recognized by the whole body, so it can be tempting to assume that they aren't present — or that the leadership of the church rushed to the corrective kind of discipline.

Here a certain degree of trust and benefit of the doubt is required for the leadership; first, that they were patient, gentle, and loving in their encouragement of discipline, and second, that the need for corrective discipline was met with a humble, pastoral spirit. Inevitably, there are more details that the members of the church don't know; there was a lot of attention and care given to the process of discipline that cannot be adequately conveyed in an announcement. As with so many things in the church, assuming that something wasn't done — or that it was done poorly — simply because one wasn't a part of the process is presumptuous, and it may also become sinful, when attitudes and/or conversations are divisive and contrary to our vow for submitting ourselves to the church's leadership and to its purity and peace.

Finally, we should keep in mind that discipline always has the aim of building up and growing true believers in their faith, and of reminding unbelievers of their need. While it can be hard to accept that discipline is what is needed, we should ask: which is more loving? To allow someone to remain in their sin, and leave it unaddressed? Or to urge and plead with them to turn from it — and be willing to be uncompromising in our hope for their righteousness? Though it seems counterintuitive, biblical discipline does affect the restoration and turning from sin that we desire and pray for; those of us who have seen it done have also seen the work of God's blessing in it.

Parents who love their children will sometimes say to them in a moment of discipline, "this hurts me more than it hurts you." So it is with the church (and leadership) that disciplines its members. We don't relish it, but we should do it. We MUST do it.

Can non-members take Communion?

…And should they?

I was recently asked by a fellow pastor for my opinion on this topic. He commented (regarding our denomination's polity about who may be admitted to the table of the Lord's Supper), "BCO 58.4 offers us the option of inviting members of a gospel-believing church to participate in the Supper or the option of closed communion. After fencing the table do the elders have a further responsibility to withhold the sacrament from people they know are not members anywhere? Why or why not?"

This is a GREAT question. What do we do with people who have never bothered to join the local church? Should they be permitted to take Communion?

Here's what I said: The BCO structures it the way it does so that Sessions will have the option of choosing for themselves, according to their own convictions (or one could say, so that Sessions would be FORCED to choose for themselves). Most PCA churches have opted (actively or passively) for open Communion, though even this takes different forms.

In my own practice, I almost always say something to the effect of, "this Sacrament is not only for members of ___ church, but for all believers in Christ. Therefore, if you are a member in good standing of a Bible-believing church, we bid you to come and dine."

Now, in my previous congregation, this declaration actually was used of the Holy Spirit to bring conviction to one regular attender's heart, who was not a member anywhere. She came and asked whether she could, in good conscience, take the Sacrament — and I told her that I didn't see any reason why she couldn't/shouldn't join the church and soothe her conscience! So she did, before the next time we served Communion (which we did monthly there).

I know that many will argue that 1 Corinthians 11's warnings about "discerning the body" are the basis by which we should demand an active profession of faith from communicants, i.e., why we shouldn't offer paedocommunion, etc. However, the best exegesis I've seen on that passage actually takes it another direction (based, at least in part, on context): that it isn't about discerning the body of Christ in the elements — understanding His sacrifice on our behalf — as much as discerning the body of Christ in the communion of the saints. In other words, when we take Communion without a clear awareness of the local church and its life together, we are in danger of eating and drinking judgment on ourselves.

Thus, I believe that Elders DO have a responsibility, when the know people are not members, to urge them to rectify that (by offering a profession of faith for membership) in order to protect them from judgment. This serves them well, too, in that their profession of faith is tested and verified by the local church, and not just a matter of their own opinion — and thus, they will know objectively that they are rightly partaking of the Sacrament that is clearly intended to be taken by those who are in union with Christ.

Beyond that, though, I wouldn't go further. The above would, on its face, be a good argument in favor of close or closed Communion, but I stop short of advocating that because:

1. we inevitably have frequent visitors who are, indeed, members in good standing of a Bible-believing church — and we should rejoice in the fellowship that we share in Communion;
2. we've generally done a very poor job (for several generations now) of teaching more comprehensively about the primacy and implications of church membership, and to get to the point where close Communion is appropriate (in light of the above) demands a better and more comprehensive high view of membership — both in our own congregations and in all/most others;
3. the circumstance you describe — where Elders know for sure that there are people taking Communion who are not members anywhere — assumes a relationship between those people and the Elders, or at least one Elder; in which case, there is already the context for the sort of conversation I described to take place.

[That's the end of my response to my friend.]

How should we approach it, then? Are we to conclude that, because our culture has eschewed a high view of the local church, Paul's warnings no longer are in effect? No — but we should approach it more comprehensively, teaching the importance of the local church and the implications of membership (or lack of it). We should approach it more pastorally, exercising concern for "weaker brothers" who don't (yet) see the emphasis that Scripture places on the local church. And we should approach it relationally, working in an organic way to come alongside one another to urge the vitality of healthy church life — and thereby avoiding the pitfalls of formalistic, legislative approaches to such problems.

On Dependence and Christ

[From Pastor Ed… 2/24]

"When Christ became a man, was He really dependent on God?"

In the last week, three different people from our congregation have asked me this same question (or some variation of it). Some of the members of our church are studying Paul Miller's excellent book, A Praying Life, and Miller addresses this topic within the first few chapters. His take on it is striking and, well, startling to some, because it declares a kind and degree of dependence that we often do not associate with Jesus.

In chapter 5, "Spending Time with Your Father," Miller asks the question, why did Jesus need to pray? He offers three reasons, and the third is apparently a sticky one for many of us! Miller's third reason for why Jesus needed to pray is: His limited humanity.

Wait — what? How could Jesus, who was fully God, be limited? That's probably the thought that immediately runs through your head (like it did mine the first time I read this book). We don't think of Jesus this way, because we have been taught well what heresy it is to believe that Jesus was not fully God! Jesus must have been God — otherwise He could not have accomplished all that He did, right? Right — and to believe that Jesus was not divine is called "Arianism" (not to be confused with the racial theory Aryanism) which was denounced as heresy at the Council of Nicaea. This is why the Nicene Creed has so many phrases like "fully God," "begotten, not made," and "being of one substance with the Father."

We're not helped by the fact that those who tend to lean in a more liberal direction, theologically, prefer to focus on the humanity of Christ. Because we get a bit squeamish about dipping our toe in waters usually inhabited by theological liberals, we find it easier just to focus on the deity of Christ.

But even as Jesus was God, He was just as much man! The Nicene Creed affirms not only "fully God" but also "fully man." And in His humanity Jesus takes our form, including our dependence. This is a challenge to us; one reason is that we wrestle to think of Jesus in the way that the Bible talks about Him in His humanity. When Christ took on flesh, He also took on our dependence on God and our susceptibility to sin and brokenness. "Who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men" (Philippians 2:6-7).

When Scripture says that Jesus was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief" (Isaiah 53:3), we think that "acquainted" means something like how we use it: when we are acquainted with someone, we may have met them a few times, but we don't know them well. But the Hebrew word we've translated "acquainted" is a form of the verb yadah, "to know," which is also used to talk about knowing skills, as in a musician who knows his instrument; about knowing good and evil, as in what the Tree of Knowledge imparted to us; and even knowing God, involving our intellect, worship, obedience, and devotion. This was the degree to which Jesus was acquainted with our grief.

When Jesus wept, it wasn't to put on a show. When Jesus was tempted, it wasn't any different from the temptations we face. When Jesus wrestled with the difficulty of God's calling and will for Him to die on the cross, it was no mere show of piety. Jesus fully and really experienced all of the suffering, pain, frustration, struggle, temptation, anger, and grief that we do. Hebrews 4:15 declares this: "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin."

Aha — and now we are finally getting at the bigger reason why we struggle with this: we find it all but impossible to wrap our minds around the possibility that Jesus knew the same temptations, struggles, grief — the same humanity — that we know, as intimately as we know it, and yet He did not sin. Because if we're honest with ourselves, we can't imagine living our own lives, even for a day, without sinning.

Yet He did. And as a result of this, four things emerge as truths that ought to be precious to us:

• Our view of Jesus' righteousness goes way up! When we begin to grasp just how real Christ's humanity was, the righteousness that He maintained in spite of it soars to new heights. Such righteousness is almost incomprehensible to us!
• A spotlight is shown on our own sin. We have to realize that where Christ is in His righteousness, and where we are in our lack of it, are quite far from one another. In the presence of true purity and holiness, the soiled and tainted lives that we inhabit are more clearly seen by comparison.
• The righteousness that Christ gained becomes ours! Far from being left in the misery of our sin's reality, we are lifted out of it and cleansed of our sin, and then — glory of glories! — we are given the very righteousness of Christ that we marvel at His capacity to obtain. Just as our sin becomes His sin, through the imputation of the cross His righteousness becomes OUR righteousness — and when God looks on us, He sees us clothed in the righteousness of Christ.
  
• Our dependence on God — and God's dependability — becomes more real. When we see how Christ, in dependence upon the Father, was able to face all of His very real and true humanity and do so without sin, then we also learn how WE might find victory over sin in dependence on God. As Christ overcame, so we can also overcome temptation and sin.
  

What does it mean to be "presbyterian"?

[From Pastor Ed… 1/13/2013 and 1/20/2013]

I once had a conversation with my friend Robert, in which we were talking about understanding our theological and ecclesiastical identities. I asked him how he would answer someone if, stopping at the back door of his church to greet him after worship, they asked him, "what does it mean to be a presbyterian?"

Such a context doesn't allow for nuance or elaboration, and I wanted him to give me the 50-words-or-less answer — not the eight-week-Sunday-School-class answer. He got that, and accommodated me.

"That I know my own tendency to sin, and therefore I need the Body of Christ to keep me straight."

Presbyterians are fond of saying that a presbyterian church is a "connectional" church, and I think this — what my friend told me — is what we mean by that: we are connected to one another, and that connection is vital to our spiritual health, growth, and survival. The Body of Christ is a connected body, and each part needs the rest (Romans 12).

It seems to me that this should be a natural result of our conversion and faith in Christ. Once we recognize our dependence on Christ, we begin to realize also that, in a sense, we cannot completely trust ourselves. Overconfidence in my own abilities — even those abilities to do and understand and be very good things, like reading the Bible, praying, refraining from sin, giving glory to God — is the path to spiritually-treacherous ground.

I may be absolutely confident, for example, that I understand a certain Bible passage, only to learn from others that I missed a key point or downplayed the central theme. I might believe that I know the right way to pray for someone, but then I will hear the prayer for them of a fellow Christian and be challenged at how feeble my own prayer was. I could think myself invulnerable to a particular sin, only to be tempted in the presence of a brother or sister who then encourages me and prays for me about it. I may even take confidence that my service is fully devoted to Christ's glory, then later be challenged by the awareness of pride and haughtiness that is exposed by a comment from another believer which wasn't even directed at me.

Thus, I need the Body. And in those moments when I don't think I need the Body, when I feel the greatest confidence in myself, when I believe more in my own ability than I do in the Gospel — in those times I need the Body all the more!

This is true for all Christians, of course. While our cultural tendencies lead us to think individually and with ever-increasing confidence in ourselves — and while the truths of our individual role in our relationship and faith in Christ are an essential part of our Christianity — we do well to hold these in tension with our deep need and dependence upon Christ and, therefore, on His Body. Remember that Jesus exhorts us, in Luke 18:14, "For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted."

We mustn't view the Church as an optional benefit to our faith; rather, we must recognize the Church for what it is, according to Scripture: "Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it" (1 Corinthians 12:27). If we are dependent upon Christ, then we are inevitably dependent upon His body.

Of course, there is more nuance and explanation to being presbyterian than this. But if you get this, you are far along the way to understanding the vital nature of the church!

What do you have for the kids?

[From Pastor Ed… 11/4 and 11/11]

I'm often told that a common question, when our members invite their friends and neighbors to worship with us, is, "what do you offer for children and youth ministries?" I'm sure this is a considerable factor for many, and of course as a parent I can fully understand why this is such a frequent question. It may be a difficult one to answer, too, since our congregation's life together as a body is so little-oriented toward program-style ministries.

When the Session announced a few weeks ago that we saw both practical and theological reasons for scaling back our congregation's nursery offerings, most of the discussion focused on the practical side. I thought it might be helpful to consider some of the theological rationale behind this, as well.

The conventional wisdom behind offering a strong and prominent children's ministry is that they need "age-appropriate" ministries to communicate to them the truths of the faith, and that they will be bored and un-engaged in structured events and practices that are geared toward adults. I recognize both the prevalence of this perspective and the grounds offered to support it, but I think it carries with it several pre-suppositions that deserve reconsideration:

• First, it presupposes that corporate worship, as a prominent example, is geared exclusively toward adults. Is that so? And if it is, then must it be so? Or could it be that corporate worship is for all ages, and can (and should) be viewed and structured as such?
  
• Second, it presupposes that the best — and maybe the only — thing we have to offer to children is what we can cognitively teach them. But is there something else that corporate worship (and other events as well) offers? And could it be that the other offerings are even more important?
  
• Third, it presupposes that the systems and structures posed by the "experts" of modern-day educational theory know best for our children. Yet, isn't the general shortcoming of our contemporary educational system one of the things that most Christians would agree about? And shouldn't we hope and believe both that God knows a thing or two about how to train our covenant children, and that He may have communicated something about this to us in the Bible?

With these in mind, I want to steer our thoughts on this subject back to some of what we've been discussing so persistently in our sermon series on worship: specifically, that the act of worship is formative, not merely in the cognitive ways that we are instructed by the teaching and preaching of the Word, nor even in the didactic value that the other parts of a worship liturgy contain — those both of these ARE greatly and helpfully formative for us. More than that, though, it is formative in how it builds in us habits, instincts, desires, and love that are Godward in their inclination and godly in their function. It is formative not just in what it represents on any given week, but in how it builds and grows in us cumulatively over time through the week-after-week practices that we engage in.

I recently read the reflections on this from a pastor in the Memphis area, named Joshua Smith. I don't know Joshua, but my thinking on this subject resonates with his. He said:

"A liturgical service is an experience of compounded interest. It can't be evaluated in its component parts or one service at a time. It must be submitted to over many seasons of life in order for its impact to be perceived. To participate in a liturgy is to be shaped by its story in a semiconscious, primal sort of way. It is more of an extended baptismal catechism than a single encounter.

“We are immersed and indoctrinated over time into a faith that holds its power not in the effectiveness of a moment's expression (e.g., a killer offertory song), but in the potency and universality of its narrative."

So let's bring this back around to children: when we invite and bring our children into worship with us, we are offering them this same sort of formation! This is true even if/when they engage in it only peripherally, and even if they don't fully grasp what it is they are doing when they participate.

I had a teacher in middle school who grew to be a friend as I moved into high school. He once told me of his own experience as a child: he grew up in a large metropolitan area, and his parents enrolled him in a 1st-12th grade magnet school, whose focus was primarily performing arts (especially theatrical performance). In that school, they started reading the works of Shakespeare in the very early grades — he remembered reading through entire Shakespeare plays in third grade. This wasn't because the teachers believed that the students would obtain a full, or even partial, comprehension of the content of the plays. It was, rather, for another reason: he also remembered when, in 7th grade, he was first expected to take part in the performance of one of these plays, he thought, "oh — it's Bill! Bill Shakespeare! Yes, I know this stuff!" And the performance of 7th graders contained much of the meaning and substance that the plays demanded, because the students knew already the patterns and stylings of the author.

This is, at very least, what we hope will happen in our corporate worship: as our children grow up, Lord willing, to embrace the faith we are teaching them, they will have been shaped and formed by the habitual, instinct-building practices of worship so much that they engage in worship meaningfully, because they already know the patterns and stylings of the Author of such things.

But it is more than that, too. In my 7+ years as a Youth Minister, I found that, unequivocally, the events that the children grew and thrived in were the ones in which they were integrated into the life of the larger body. No matter how great the programs or ad-hoc events were, no matter how elaborately-planned or well-led they were, the real lasting impressions and growth opportunities came when the children and students were working, playing, fellowshipping, worshiping, and growing alongside their parents and other adults of all ages in the church.

In my own childhood, too, I found this to be so. One of my very earliest memories is when (my mother says) I was about 3, and I recall my father carrying me out of worship and walking to the car. Perhaps simply because it was a different time (insofar as "children's ministry" goes anyway), I was brought into worship at a very early age. As a result, I learned to be quiet, respectful, and even reverent instead of distracting or disturbing other worshipers around me. I also learned the words to favorite hymns, grew in knowing the patterns of our worship liturgy, and could recite creeds, doxologies, and frequently-read Scripture passages by heart.

And I see it in my own children. Jack has a growing list on one of the blank pages of his Bible, where he records the names of favorite hymns. Both Jack and Molly approached us a few years ago, asking: "you say to us every time our congregation has the Lord's Supper that it is for those who believe in Jesus as their Savior. WE believe in Jesus as our Savior! When can WE take the Lord's Supper?" These things are the direct fruit of their inclusion in worship — at times by necessity, but often by choice — from an early age.

We have work to do yet, of course, and there are many ways we can improve from where we are. We still need to have some sort of nursery offering, at least as a ministry of hospitality to visitors and others with particular needs — and we're working on that and trying to figure it out. And we can always do better with actively including our children in worship and in other events and body life. But from a theological perspective, I believe we are on the right path.

So, what do we have for this kids? Here's my answer:
"We offer our children the best thing we have to offer — they are included in our congregation's life of worship, and welcomed into the identity-forming and faith-shaping practices of week-by-week service to Christ in corporate worship. Rather than implying that corporate worship is no place for children, we show and tell them how much we want them to join us. The adults in our congregation love the children, and take seriously their congregational vows to come alongside them in the nurture of their faith: I watch as an older widow converses with my 10-year old for a lengthy conversation, as our pianist shows my 8-year old how to work out a difficult scale, and as a Deacon's wife plays hide-and-seek with my 4-year-old twins, and I know that they are loved and cared-for in ways that no children's ministry program, however great the leaders, could offer them."

The Christian’s Love for the Human Race

“We ought to embrace the whole human race without exception in a single feeling of love; here there is no distinction between barbarian and Greek, worthy and unworthy, friend and enemy, since all should be contemplated in God, not in themselves. When we turn aside from such contemplation, it is no wonder we become entangled in many errors.

Therefore, if we rightly direct our love, we must first turn our eyes not to man, the sight of whom would more often engender hate than love, but to God, who bids us extend to all men the love we bear to Him, that this may be an unchanging principle: Whatever the character of the man, we must yet love him because we love God.”

~ John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, John T. McNeill, ed, Ford Lewis Battles, trans, Library of Christian Classics (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1960 [1559]), 2.8.55.

"LORD" in the Psalms (and elsewhere)

[From Pastor Ed on August 5 and August 12, 2012]

Frequently in the Psalms, we see the word "LORD" spelled out in either all capital letters or in what is called "small caps". What does this mean?

In the Hebrew language, there are two words that are commonly rendered in English translations as "lord": the first, a common word, adon (from which we get the name of God "Adonai") is translated "lord" and means lord or master, as in "the lord of the manor" or some sort of leader and overseer. This word could refer to men of some higher status, as in the lord of the house (to someone in the household), a governor, or the king. Of course, it can also refer to God, because He is the Lord over all! But it does not bear any specific or personal meaning.

The second word that is translated "Lord" is the Hebrew name for God, Yahweh (or Jehovah)— sometimes called the "tetragrammaton" (literally, the "four letters") because it is constructed simply of the four consonants: J/Y, H, W/V, and H. Because the Hebrew people considered this name to be so holy that they would never say it or write it out fully— lest they be in violation of the third commandment— we don't actually know what vowels would have been inserted between these consonants! (This is why it could be Yahweh or Jehovah.) Instead, they would just use the consonants to represent this name.

The earliest translators saw fit to translate this word also as "Lord", probably because they recognized that, as the name of the Lord of all, it was fitting that the title also be His name. (Similar to how we would never presume such familiarity with a king or president to call him by his first name, but would simply say "King".) But as a distinction from the word adon, the name began to be rendered in the all-caps or small-caps way that we see it.

This word, the name of God, isn't like any other name that we find for Him in the Old Testament. It isn't uncommon to find references to other gods, especially in reference to idol-worshipping practices, but these would have names of their own (like Ba'al, which is the name of a specific idol-god). Yahweh, however, was the name of the God above all gods— the King of kings and Lord of lords.

Furthermore, the name Yahweh is given to His people in a certain context. Abraham is told this name, Yahweh, when God declares to him (in Genesis 15:7): "I am the LORD who brought you out from Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land to possess.” Moses is told this name when he is instructed in how the Israelites would know that it was God who sent him (in Exodus 3:15): Say this to the people of Israel, ‘The LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you.’ This is my name forever, and thus I am to be remembered throughout all generations."

In short: the name Yahweh always indicated, not just that the Lord of lords was the One meant by the name, but the God of Abraham— the covenant-making, covenant-keeping God. He describes Himself in this way, when He appeared to Moses on Mount Sinai and identified Himself (in Exodus 34:6-7): "The LORD passed before him and proclaimed, 'The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children’s children, to the third and the fourth generation.”

Therefore, when we encounter "LORD" in the Psalms (and elsewhere in Scripture), we need to recognize this important and faith-building distinction of Who it is that is spoken of: it is Yahweh, our covenant God!

Survey of Resources on 1 Peter

At the very beginning of summer, we finished a series of sermons from the first letter of the Apostle Peter. Here are my thoughts on the resources I used (some more, some less) in fortifying that study and those sermons. I'll rate them on a scale of 1-10 based on how useful I found them.

Commentaries

• Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, New Testament XI: James, 1-2 Peter, 1-3 John, Jude by Gerald Bray (ed.). I find this series of commentaries novel and intriguing, yet I seldom consult them with any regularity for my sermons or teaching. Likewise here: I think I turned to Bray's collection two or three times, and each time found only the merest help for what I needed. Perhaps this sort of commentary is relatively incompatible with my teaching/preaching study style? (2)
  
• The Message of 1 Peter by Edmund Clowney. I generally like this series of commentaries (IVP's "The Bible Speaks Today" series) a lot, and there's usually good material to be found here. These are, in my estimation, very good lay-level commentaries, and I often already have the meat of its content in mind before I turn to them. Still, the 1 Peter volume is rich and full of great insight from Dr. Clowney. I love to pass these along to folks who indicate their desire for some good help with reading along in devotional ways with the sermon series, and I have great confidence in recommending this one in that way. (6, only because of the limited use for this context.
  
• The First Epistle of Peter by Peter H. Davids. By far, this was/is my favorite commentary on 1 Peter, and the one I consulted the most. There is rich insight here for the understanding of this letter, and I think this commentary is a useful addition to any library. I first found Davids on 1 Peter in seminary, and would admit that this is not the most homiletically-oriented commentary (though it fits my preparation style very well). Davids is very occasionally on the critical/liberal side of interpretation, but when he is it is mild and he is respectful and accommodating to a more conservative/traditional interpretation. (10)
  
• A Commentary on 1 Peter by Leonard Goppelt. This is another one that I picked up (and found quite useful) in seminary, though its highly-academic and technical nature did not transfer as well as Davids into a homiletic setting. I believe I consulted Goppelt twice on more technical matters, and when I did I found him quite helpful. (There are a couple of sections of 1 Peter that need more extensive technical investigation.) Overall, I wasn't hurt by having Goppelt on my shelf, but I'm not sure I would encourage most pastors to buy it for the few times its handy. (6)
  
• 1 Peter by Joel B. Green. I was excited to get Green's commentary when I started this series, because I loved his work on Luke when I preached through that book (see my Luke survey here). While I didn't find Green's work noticeably different or lesser in any way, for whatever reason this one didn't become a go-to resource like the Luke volume did. Green hits on the same wavelength as Peter Davids, so perhaps it was because of my familiarity with Davids that I didn't latch onto Green this time. Still, I like Green's work on 1 Peter a lot, and would certainly recommend it. (7)
  
• 1 Peter by Karen H. Jobes. Another fine work, along the same lines as Davids and Green in terms of its place and use in the schema of commentaries. I liked Jobes' approach and discussion of the text, and found hers to be a good complement to Davids when I wasn't quite satisfied (or in agreement) with his take. Much like Davids, I consulted Jobes most weeks during my study. (9)
  
• 1 Peter by I. Howard Marshall. Perhaps my one regret in this series through 1 Peter was that I seldom had time to consult my second-tier references (like this one) more frequently, and I'm sure I missed out on some keen insights and strong application points because of it. Marshall is a scholar that I respect highly, even though he doesn't come to mind as readily as others, and his work on 1 Peter is very solid. This volume strikes at a level somewhere between the more technical (like Davids, Goppelt, Green, and Jobes) and the more lay-level; it's sort of a "preacher's commentary" in the sense that so much of the content would approximate what you would expect to hear in a good sermon — which also makes this kind of commentary dangerous, in a way, because of the temptation to slack off on the hard work of crafting your own sermon. I probably picked up Marshall six or eight times, but given more prep time I might have doubled that. (8)
  
• The NIV Application Commentary: 1 Peter by Scot McKnight. As I've mentioned before, I like this series for what it offers a preacher, and I found the insights here on "bridging contexts" to often be quite valuable. Unlike Darrell Bock on Luke (in the same series), I didn't find McKnight's thoughts on "original meaning" to be as compelling, and like Bock I sometimes felt McKnight's "contemporary significance" reflections missed the mark. Another difficulty I had was that my outline of 1 Peter didn't match McKnight's, so often I was jumping around or poking into half a chapter. All of this combined to make this round from the series less helpful than others have been, but I still got value out of it. This was probably the first go-to commentary of my second-tier references. (8)
  

Other References

I didn't use a lot of additional resources for 1 Peter, partly because I had done some study on the book in seminary and was familiar with the context and background material more than I might be in a less-familiar book. I did sometimes consult IVP's Dictionary of New Testament Background and their Dictionary of the Later New Testament & Its Developments, and as usual I highly recommend these and others in IVP's series of Old and New Testament dictionaries. (Which reminds me that there are a couple of newer ones that I need to add to my library!)

Also, I recommend William W. Harrell's Let's Study 1 Peter from Banner of Truth. I only made use of it once or twice in this particular study, but I've taught 1 Peter in a Sunday School class before where we used this study guide as the basis for the class; it is very solid, and a profitable supplement to any study through the text. Some folks from Dove Mountain Church asked me about doing additional study in 1 Peter through the week, and I pointed them to this book first.

Suspicion on the basis of difference

From Pastor Ed (5/13/2012)— a repost from 2009…

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At one point in my ministry at Hickory Withe Presbyterian Church in Tennessee, I was talking with an acquaintance about the liturgy in our congregation. I specifically mentioned that we were beginning to make use of the liturgical calendar more intentionally. He wrinkled his nose, furrowed his brow, and replied, “I don’t know... that’s sort of like the Roman Catholic and orthodox churches.”

I said, “Sort of.”

He responded, “But aren’t you a Presbyterian church?”

Even though we talked about it for a few more minutes, I could tell the conversation was over at this point.

This fellow, and many like him, approach such matters from the same perspective: they are inherently suspicious of anyone— or anything— that is different from what they understand and practice. In this case, his experiences and personal practices had suggested to him that all Presbyterians had plain, unadorned, even stoic worship that varied not by season nor circumstance. Therefore, he concluded, any church that diverged from this path, even though they may be Presbyterian, was not practicing proper Presbyterian worship. They— and in this case, we— must be in error.

Why must this be the case? Is it so that the Roman Catholics or Eastern Orthodox are utterly wrong? Could it be possible that they might teach and/or practice some things with which we might disagree, but not all things? Couldn’t the same thing be true of other Christian traditions?

When faced with questions such as these, I’ve found that “Suspicion because of difference” will grant my premises. Yet, when it comes to actually practicing this, they have no interest, and in fact they are sometimes fearful.

This is natural, I think: we are all fearful of what we don’t know and understand. Most of us are insecure enough to interpret differences as a conscious and active condemnation of our point of view, rather than simply a thoughtful and purposeful acceptance of another point of view. And we are prideful enough to look on something that is different from what we do, think, or feel as wrong by default.

But we must be careful when our default position is to be suspicious of something simply because it is different. Look at it this way: most, if not all, of how you spend your time today, what you think about, and the beliefs that you hold, are inherently different from what you did, thought, or believed a decade or two ago. In many of us, the differences are drastic-- and we are grateful that they are! In fact, if someone cannot honestly say that this is at least somewhat true of them— that they are a good bit different today than 10 years ago— then they either aren’t being honest with themselves or they haven’t demonstrated any personal growth over that time.

If I, 10 or 15 years ago, had met the “me” from today, would I even recognize myself? Would I be suspicious of the differences I saw in this other person? If that is true of me— and you— then shouldn’t we give those who are different from us some benefit of the doubt?

What are we looking for when we demand conformity to our own images in this way? Are we simply looking for affirmation? Are we attending to some deep insecurities that cause us to second-guess ourselves, and therefore others as well?

Or are we asking for some shibboleth that Scripture itself doesn’t require? Tim Keller once said, “No matter where you are, there is someone to your right, as it were, who thinks you sold out the Gospel.” Is this what we’re getting at when we get so suspicious so quickly?

At another point I had a conversation with someone who noted that, in visiting a different Presbyterian church, he had observed a surprising number of things that harkened back to Anglican, Eastern Orthodox, and Roman Catholic practices. He was surprised.

“Why?” I asked him. “I think John Calvin and Martin Luther would have wanted it that way.”

“Do you really think so?” He asked.

“Yes; after all, Luther and Calvin didn’t want to not be Roman Catholic— they simply wanted the Roman Catholic church to be biblically faithful.”

But we forget that. And we forget that our differences— whether they be about worship practices, liturgical calendars, theologies of baptism, or how actively we must pursue a certain social agenda— ought not be something that we are inherently suspicious of.

After all, and this is the sum of it: we're bound together by our belief in the Gospel, much mores than by our shared beliefs about secondary and tertiary matters. Any further shibboleth that I construct is wrong. Let’s be a bit less suspicious.*




*Don’t get me wrong here: I’m not suggesting that it is wrong to have theological standards for, say, ordination— but simply that when I don’t “get” the way another Christian practices their faith, I must be careful not to assume that their faith therefore isn’t real.

What it DOES mean to prepare our hearts for the Lord's Supper [Repost]

This was printed as my "From Pastor Ed…" column on Sunday. It is essentially a repost of a blog entry from 2011, adapted slightly.


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In previous weeks, I commented on some common misunderstandings about "preparing our hearts" and "examining ourselves" with regard to the Lord's Supper. Now I want to comment plainly on what it does mean. To do this, I'll consider the relevant questions and answers from the Westminster Larger Catechism, interacting with each in turn to develop a complete sense of how we might prepare for communion.

Westminster Shorter Catechism question 97: What is required for the worthy receiving of the Lord's Supper?

A. It is required of them that would worthily partake of the Lord's Supper, that they examine themselves of their knowledge to discern the Lord's body, of their faith to feed upon him, of their repentance, love, and new obedience; lest, coming unworthily, they eat and drink judgment to themselves.

Note a few things of what the Catechism indicates a "worthy" receiving of the Supper consists of: the believer is to examine himself. Examining what? He "discerning" of the Lord's body, his faith, and the fruit of his faith. In other words, to receive the Lord's Supper in a "worthy" manner is to take it seriously, to acknowledge its significance and its weight, and to have a proper reverence and joy in what it represents.

The basis offered for the Catechism's answer-- the sole Scriptural evidence presented-- is 1 Corinthians 11:27-32. Here's that passage, plus the seven verses that precede it and the two after it (context is king!):

When you come together, it is not the Lord’s Supper you eat, for as you eat, each of you goes ahead without waiting for anybody else. One remains hungry, another gets drunk. Don’t you have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What shall I say to you? Shall I praise you for this? Certainly not!
For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.
Therefore, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord. A man ought to examine himself before he eats of the bread and drinks of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself. That is why many among you are weak and sick, and a number of you have fallen asleep. But if we judged ourselves, we would not come under judgment. When we are judged by the Lord, we are being disciplined so that we will not be condemned with the world.
So then, my brothers, when you come together to eat, wait for each other. If anyone is hungry, he should eat at home, so that when you meet together it may not result in judgment.

This is a full and weighty passage, and there is much in it that sometimes leads to controversy or disagreement. I won't give an exhaustive examination of the whole passage here, but I do want to touch on some highlights, particularly as they pertain to the Catechism question above.

First, note (as should be or become instinctive in Bible reading) that the relevant clause begins with "therefore"-- pointing us to what immediately precedes it. The fact that "a man ought to examine himself" (v. 28) and that he should recognize "the body of the Lord" (v. 29) is directly related to vv. 20-26-- especially vv. 20-22, where Paul describes the conduct of an unworthy participation in the Lord's Supper. "Recognizing the body of the Lord" has as its contrast v. 22's "do you despise the church of God". In other words, the "unworthy" manner is related to the manner of how the Lord's Supper is conducted, not the person participating.

Second, consider "worthiness" as it relates to this passage: could it possibly mean that some are deemed worthy to share in fellowship and communion with God Himself, by merit of their own work (even religious work, i.e., "proper" confessing of sin, etc.)? Or does it more likely mean that "worthiness" indicates a proper awareness of our desperate need for atonement apart from ourselves (and fulfilled in the work of Christ), which this sacrament "proclaims" (v. 26) to us and all around us? Thus, worthily discerning the body of Christ and participating in the Supper means that we long for it, as it represents and reminds us of Christ's great grace poured out for us.

Our Catechism isn't "finished" in helping us with the question about preparing our hearts for Communion, however. There is another helpful question and answer: Westminster Larger Catechism question 171: How are they that receive the sacrament of the Lord's Supper to prepare themselves before they come unto it?

A. They that receive the sacrament of the Lord's Supper are, before they come, to prepare themselves thereunto, by examining themselves of their being in Christ, of their sins and wants; of the truth and measure of their knowledge, faith, repentance; love to God and the brethren, charity to all men, forgiving those that have done them wrong; of their desires after Christ, and of their new obedience; and by renewing the exercise of these graces, by serious meditation, and fervent prayer.

Here again, we have a straightforward answer to the question: first and foremost, do you know yourself to be in Christ? To prepare oneself for the Sacrament is to be re-affirmed in faith.

The second part of that first clause, though, is where I think most will be hung up. "Of their sins and wants" might suggest that we should examine our sins and seek to "properly" name them in confession before God, else we should not participate in the Sacrament. Of course, this understanding is the opposite of what I proposed in my first discussion about this topic. Am I contradicted by the Catechism?

Grammatical construction helps us here: notice that, in the answer above, "examining themselves" is set up as the action relating to each of the different sets of things which should be examined. It's as if you could copy that phrase and paste it before each clause, like this:
...to prepare themselves thereunto, by examining themselves of their being in Christ, of their sins and wants; examining themselves of the truth and measure of their knowledge, faith, repentance; examining themselves [of the truth and measure of their] love to God and the brethren, charity to all men, forgiving those that have done them wrong; examining themselves of their desires after Christ, and of their new obedience; and by renewing...

You get the picture. So, how does the grammar help us? See that the Westminster Divines inserted a comma between "of their being in Christ" and "of their sins and wants"-- but a semicolon after it. In other words, they want us to see the association of the one with the other (by way of the comma) and the distinction of that clause with the rest. So when they urge an examination of our "sins and wants" it is in relation to, and in light of, our being in Christ. We are to prepare our hearts, first of all, by knowing the forgiveness and reconciliation for us in our redemption by and through Christ, and by recognizing our sins and wants as they are forgiven and swept away in Christ.

Likewise, the rest of the answer could be interpreted in a meritorious fashion as well: how much do I love God? How much can I point to the demonstration of my love for the brothers, and charity to all, and forgiveness of those who have wronged me? How much do I desire Christ, and demonstrate my obedience to Him? It's certainly possible to read the Catechism this way, and in so doing make the Sacrament one of two things (which it was never intended to be for us): either we convince ourselves that we do actually measure up to some degree of "worthiness" through all of those things, and it becomes a time of puffing up in arrogance, self-righteousness, and boastfulness; or we see clearly how much we fail to achieve any of those things even inadequately in ourselves, and it becomes a slavish reminder of how far we fall short all the time, in every way, and we loathe to even think of taking it.

Both of these results are clearly contrary to Scripture (as I demonstrated in brief in my previous piece). They are also contrary to the clear teachings throughout the rest of the Westminster Standards! Therefore, these other clauses should be understood rather to mean, in light of the first clause (that we are found in Christ, even in all of our sins and wants), we are to seek the fruit of our faith in Christ in these ways.

The final phrases in that answer lends further credibility to this interpretation: "and by renewing the exercise of these graces, by serious meditation, and fervent prayer." Why would we need to renew the exercises if we were already succeeding in them? What is the purpose of serious meditation and fervent prayer for the spiritually worthy and meritorious? But the presence of these concluding remarks expects shortcomings in that which precede them. Even in the assurance of being found in Christ!I'll do one more part of this series, to wrap up by addressing the issue of assurance.

Inconsistency and the Pro-Life position

The state of Mississippi voted last November to defeat Poposition 26, which offered an amendment to the (state) constitution that said:

“As used in this Article III of the state constitution, the term ‘person’ or ‘persons’ shall include every human being from the moment of fertilization, cloning or the functional equivalent thereof.”

The discussion surrounding this issue was wide and varied, and a number of arguments were offered against it. I won't go into the details of all of them (I'm not sure I could), but I will point to one interesting take by a Mississippi pastor, Stephen Wedgeworth: An Examination of Mississippi's Proposition 26.

What I do want to consider is something that arose as an interesting part of the discussion among Mississippians. It may not surprise you to hear that this referendum was contentious and divisive, but it might surprise you to learn that it was contentious and divisive even among those claiming a "Pro-Life" position. Popular (outgoing) Mississippi Governor Haley Barbour, for example, spoke out against it because defining life as beginning at fertilization, rather than at conception (which I presume would be defined as the point at which a fertilized ovum implants into a woman's uterus), meant that some forms of birth control might be made legally-questionable by this definition. Others acknowledged that this represented an open challenge to the ethics of some aspects of in vitro fertilization (such as unimplanted zygotes being disposed of).

My response to these is, "exactly."

Of course, this definition would have substantially restricted (if not eliminated outright) the practice of abortion in all, or nearly all, circumstances, even raising legality concerns when the mother's life is threatened by the circumstances. Indeed, I'm fairly confident that the prospect of such was precisely the motivation behind this proposed amendment.

In reality, however, those who are consistently "pro-life" should already know that questions reaching far beyond the issue of abortion need to be raised. It shouldn't take the potential passing of a legal, constitutional definition for socially-conservative thinkers to consider the ethical implications of matters of a less cut-and-dried (at least in the eyes of the so-called pro-lifers) nature.

Consider birth control. Many who claim to be "pro-life" have probably never pondered at length the implications of many forms of birth control. However, many of the oral means of birth control ("the pill") contain an abortifacient, which is to say they contain some substance that prevents a fertilized egg (aka a zygote) from implanting into the uterus.

The thinking behind oral birth control goes like this: the primary substance in the birth control medication is meant to inhibit fertility by providing an artificial hormone which prevents ovulation. Secondarily, penetration of sperm through the cervix is inhibited by decreasing the viscosity of cervical mucus. In other words, between the two, it should be very unlikely that a viable egg would form in the first place, and if it does, that it should be fertilized.

However, in the event that these two both fail to prevent fertilization— or in some cases, as an alternative secondary measure— some oral contraceptives also contain the abortifacient mentioned above. Scientists will disclaim that the secondary measures are almost unnecessary; thus, they say, "pro-lifers" should not have a problem with it. This begs the question: why include the secondary measures in the first place, then?

Such matters are part of the reason why Mississippi Proposition 26 failed; it would make the legality of such birth control measures questionable, at least. But it seems to come as a surprise to many Pro-Life folk that this question even emerged as part of the equation. (For the record: our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters have been far more consistent on this question than we protestants. In fact, it was a Roman Catholic doctor who invented the condom, believing he had found a means for birth control that was clear of these ethical puzzles— though he was castigated by the Roman Catholic church nevertheless.)

Or consider the husband and wife whose infertility prohibits them from conceiving naturally via intercourse, but whose doctors have advised them that they would be good candidates for in vitro fertilization — where the wife will receive hormone therapy to increase her production of ova, and these will be "harvested" (removed) from her, then fertilized in a petri dish with her husband's sperm. At a certain point, decisions must be made: of the 10 harvested eggs, 7 were successfully fertilized; how many should the implant into her? They recommend 4, as it is likely that 2 or 3 of them may not be able to attach properly to the uterine wall, so she would probably conceive with twins or a singleton. Even if 3 attach, though, she will then only have triplets.

But what about the ones left in the petri dish? And the one (or more) that is expected to fail to attach? Ethical puzzles abound about these. Had the Mississippi referendum passed, all of the other zygotes would be legally considered persons and would be treated accordingly, insofar as legal rights are concerned (leaving the doctors and parents legally responsible for the well-being of the rest of the zygotes).

Without the law, all we have is ethics. But a pro-life thinker should be clear about this, as well: the zygotes in the dish are still their offspring (or, at least by the most liberating definition, potential offspring), and they mustn't dismiss the implications of this. Doctors will sometimes advise that the fertilized eggs be kept and preserved, in the event that the first implantation doesn't succeed and the couple should wish to try again. But the implanting procedure is financially costly (not to mention the emotional strain that the entire process puts on them both, and the physiological challenges for the wife), and many cannot afford to ever try again. Often these zygotes are simply thrown out. (Remember, the proponents of embryonic stem-cell research advocate that these "left over" zygotes be harvested for research purposes.)

Some friends of ours actually went through this, when they faced infertility obstacles in their own family. Their solution was to go ahead and implant all of the eggs that had successfully fertilized (in their case, this was only 3) to avoid the dilemma of having to decide what to do with the rest. For our friends, only one zygote attached, and he is doing well.

As for the one or more that are implanted but do not attach: well, here the ethics is even more gray, because the same set of events occurs naturally on a regular basis. Through intercourse, a couple may actually have an egg fertilized that does NOT attach to the uterine wall, and therefore the zygote never becomes a fetus, baby, adult, and so on. We don't mourn these fertilized eggs, even though they may be people; we don't even realize that they exist. Does that mean that the artificially-fertilized, harvested-then-implanted egg is not an ethical concern? Not so fast: it's really more of a "yes" and "no" answer. Remember, that zygote wouldn't exist had the mother, father, and doctors never begun the process of in vitro. There is some responsibility for its brief life in their hands, and its brief life's end.

This is not to say that parents for whom zygotes fail to implant (whether those zygotes are naturally or artificially fertilized) are irresponsible. At the bottom line, there is the matter of God's sovereign hand upon all things, and there is a limit to the accountability that is appropriate in such circumstances. My point isn't to try to parse these ethical issues, but to point out a few things:

• Many, if not most, Christians have never considered that their claim to being "pro-life" ever amounts to anything more than being "anti-abortion"— when, in fact, the above issues (and others) are closely related.
  
• The question of life and viability is often appealed to by Christians as the irrefutable claim against pro-abortion arguments; what is clear, however, is that many of the most conservative segments of our society haven't considered this argument out to its reasonable end.
  
• Christians should not wantonly or thoughtlessly embrace fertilization technology on the basis that "God loves children and families" but most be more discerning about techniques such as in vitro fertilization and the ethical implications surrounding it.
  
• Likewise, Christians need to be more thoughtful about using birth control; not eliminating it altogether, necessarily, but understanding what is actually going on by its use and considering whether these things are ethically consistent with their positions.