Rethinking the church's civic role in marriage

We have an interesting situation facing our culture (by which I mean, the American culture): for the first time in history, the definition of "marriage" is vastly different in the Christian church from what the state (by which I mean, the civic governing authorities) says that it is.

Background

Historically, the Christian church has defined marriage as a covenantal relationship between a man and a woman, bound together before God and committed to maintaining God's standards for what constitutes that marriage. Marriage was given to us by God for particular purposes: for the mutual help of the husband and wife, for having children, and for prevention of sin. Marriage is not the same as other relationships that the Bible describes as "lawful" (such as friendships, parent/child, work-oriented relationships, etc.) or that the Bible declares to be "unlawful" (including same-sex relationships, marital affairs, and others). Some may disagree with whether this position is "right" (and obviously some do), but whether that has historically been the church's position is indisputable.

Also historically (and continuing to the present), the church and state have held hands in a peculiar practice. In a tacit acknowledgement of the origins of marriage and the church's right and authority in the institution of marriage, the common practice and legal allowance is that pastors, priests, rectors, and ministers are allowed to function as civil magistrates when it comes to marriage. How so? They are recognized as a legitimate authority who may sign the marriage license. Whereas a pastor or priest asserting civic authority in any other realm would be laughed at, in this one sphere they are granted the strange status of being both ecclesiastical and civil authority.

More recently, and increasingly across the country, individual states are passing laws that define marriage more broadly, including the allowance of same-sex couples to marry with the same recognition of their marriages as those whose marriages would fit the definition of the historical church above. There are different arguments for why this is being done, but the underlying rationale pins on two presuppositions: (a) that homosexual practices are not morally or ethically wrong, and any individual or institution that claims otherwise is bigoted and misled; and (b) that practicing homosexuals deserve the same rights civically as any other citizen. Thus, they conclude, any restriction to the civic rights afforded by marriage on the basis of some moral or ethical restriction is wrong, and should be removed.

What's my point

The second premise above is not the focus of my post today, and frankly I wouldn't dispute it (as I've blogged about already; see "Inconsistency in opposition to civil unions"). Really, the first premise is not the focus of my post either, except to say that it finds little to no support in the Bible when any orthodox hermeneutic is applied, and therefore is not a claim that should carry much authority with Christians.

Rather, my focus is on the sticky wicket that this change in status quo presents to the church. To get there, I'll need to unpack the implications of the American pastor's strange function as quasi-magistrate a bit further.

A marriage in a church is recognized by the state as legitimate and licit, because the pastor is given that right to officiate both the ecclesiastical and the civil aspects of the marriage. Likewise—by default—a marriage that is recognized as legitimate and licit by the state is presently assumed also to be legitimate and licit in the eyes of the church. Which is to say, if two Christians choose to elope rather than hold a traditional wedding, and they employ the services of a justice of the peace to officiate, then they can safely presume that their church will recognize their marriage as a legitimate one. There is something of a Material Equivalence at work: in either case, the circumstances of a marriage presided-over by a recognized officiant meets both the necessary and sufficient conditions for the marriage to be deemed licit by both the church and the state.

With the recent changes to the laws of many states (and the likely inevitability of the same in most, if not all, of the remaining states), however, this logic fails. There may be sufficient conditions on both sides, but now there is a missing necessary condition for the church: the certainty that particular requirements are met to qualify the marriage as biblically licit. Without this certainty, the church can no longer be assured that a marriage approved by the state is a truly licit marriage ecclesiastically.

To be sure, this is not, in itself, exactly new; with the proliferation of "no-fault divorce" in the 1970s, this certainty dissolved. It has long been possible for a husband to abandon his wife, divorce her, and elope with his mistress—and for that marriage to be presumed to be a legitimate, biblically-licit marriage. Frankly, we should have acted on the implications of this decades ago, and our inattention has caught up with us.

Some solutions

How we got to where we are is a long and winding path, and includes many concessions and missed opportunities through the last many years. One could argue that this was an inevitable conclusion for our culture to reach, and they may be right. But here we are nevertheless, and though hindsight may be 20/20, foresight and wisdom for the days ahead is what we need.

We do seem finally to have come to a fork in the road, and I believe it is time for the church and the state to quit holding hands. The Material Equivalence that was the logical basis of our implicit acknowledgement of civilly-officiated marriages has been dissolving for years, and is no longer present in any reliable form. The function of the pastor as civil magistrate when it comes to marriage needs to come to an end.

This is actually the way it is in most other countries in the world! If you want to have the civic benefits of some sort of formalized union, you apply to the state for a marriage license and have the (regular) magistrate sign it. If you want the blessings of the church on your marriage, you see your pastor or priest and he officiates. And if you want both, then you must follow through with both.

A long-time friend of mine who is a political consultant in South Carolina recently blogged about this topic as well. In an interaction that followed, I asked him whether he thought the best route to sever this relationship between pastors and the state was a political one: passage of a bill that would revoke the pastor's right to sign marriage licenses. He said that we're way to far gone for that: "It's in state law in a thousand places."

Thus, it seems like the best route is for pastors and churches to voluntarily lay down our "right" to this role in civic society. To do this, we would need to amend our church constitution (in the PCA, this would mean an amendment to the Book of Church Order) so that this is plainly stated.

(I actually presented a proposal for this to my presbytery recently, and it was voted down—but mainly because the wording of it was not as clear as it needed to be. I'll keep working.)

Tricky factors

Moving in this direction will present a few bumps along the way. As I list these, I confess I'm not sure entirely of the implications of them, but I do recognize that they are there.

For one, it raises the possibility that some Christians may seek a marriage in the church but not with the state. One friend wondered about whether this would be a way for senior citizens to avoid any implications for their Social Security benefits, for example. I suppose that's possible, but I think it would be difficult to make a solid case for why this would be wrong for Christians to do.

It also raises the question about marriage as a creation-wide institution, and that's a good point. We don't see marriage as a sacrament, as it is not for believers only. Nevertheless, many pastors would seriously think twice about officiating a "church wedding" between two non-Christians as if their marriage was no different than that of two Christians. And I actually think this distinction is helpful precisely because it draws a clearer distinction between what is present in a Christian marriage versus a non-Christian one.

Other questions raised concerned how the church would deal with marriages not conducted by the church (or, for that matter, conducted in churches of a different denomination). Would none of them be recognized? How would the pastor and leadership deal with a civic union/marriage that they didn't believe was legitimate ecclesiastically? These are great questions, but not without some precedent. By analogy (and I want to be careful to distinguish this as an analogy, because we don't view marriage in the same way that we do baptism), when someone presents himself or herself for membership and the question of their baptism from another tradition—Roman Catholicism, say—comes up, then the Session must decide whether they will acknowledge that baptism as legitimate or whether they will require them to be re-baptized. To some degree, we take these case-by-base, but in another sense then patterns and precedents are established. I think marriage would be much the same.

I know there are other questions I haven't thought of. What do YOU think? What tricky factors do you see, that I haven't listed?

What happened?

In case you didn't know, the church I moved to Tucson, AZ in 2011 to serve as Senior Pastor, Dove Mountain Church, closed its doors in October of last year.

I get asked about 3–4 times a week, "What happened?"—so I thought it would be worthwhile to offer a few words about that here on my blog. At least my 10s of readers will know, and won't have to ask!

Though I wasn't part of DMC until 2011, I have done my best to piece together a working history of how we came to the end that we did. It's hard to say for sure, and I know that what I will say below is just one "take" on the whole thing. If you ask others involved in the church (especially if they were in the leadership), they may give an entirely different answer. And, frankly, their answer may be just as legitimate as mine.

[One request and caveat, however: be very careful of the opinions of those who were only peripherally connected. Even people that speak very confidently as if they are "in the know" can be, and have been, very mistaken in their accounts of what happened.]

Dove Mountain Church (DMC) launched as a church plant out of a mother-church congregation, Catalina Foothills Church (CFC) in 2007. They launched with a large number of great people (around 175) including some strong leaders, with a healthy amount of money, and with a generous gift of a 15-acre piece of land (in an area called Dove Mountain—thus the name). They had a good man as their pastor, and a lot of ambition as a "core group" (I use that term somewhat loosely, as 175 people is larger than most of the churches in the PCA).

That group was zealous about the idea of a new church, and enthusiastic in employing that zeal to good work. They got busy right away, and "particularized" as a church (instead of a church plant) quickly—in about seven months. Yet, though they were one group, it now seems clear that they were not united behind what they were setting out to do. No one had articulated, in a way that was understood and "bought into" by the whole congregation, several key aspects of vision:

• Where they were going
  
• Why they were going there
  
• What they were going to do when they got there

They lacked vision; instead, they were comprised of segments with very different visions.

One segment of the group wanted to replicate the work and ministries of CFC in the new location, which was about 30 minutes to the northwest of the mother church—essentially, their ambition was to build "CFC North" and take the mother church's effective ministries to a new part of town.

Another segment had been well-served by the ministry of the church planting pastor while he was an associate pastor at CFC. Their hope was to see his style and emphases in ministry writ large, and to realize the fulfillment of the dream of a church community that he had articulated—which was, in a number of ways, quite different from that of CFC.

Yet another segment had never quite fit in at CFC, and saw this as an opportunity to build a church that was similar in some ways to CFC, but different in some key ways.

There were probably other segments, too, but these were the main three as far as I could tell. This lack of unity in purpose and vision became a clear problem as time went on.

Initially, there were great efforts made to make plans for building on the 15 acres of land. Soon, however, it became clear that these plans would not be fulfilled as quickly as many had hoped, if ever (the founding pastor told me that, after a very short while, he became convinced that they would never end up on that land); consequently, most of the first segment left over the following months.

A couple of years later, the founding pastor burned out and left. This was, understandably, a blow to the whole congregation—but especially to that segment who had essentially followed him. Many of them left immediately, and others followed over the next 18 months or so.

That left a group of about 80–90 people, most of whom were initially part of the last segment.

When I interviewed, the clear impression I got was that the leadership, at least, had recognized the need for a clear and compelling vision that would drive the congregation forward. I was asked repeatedly what my vision would be, and my answer was, "I won't know until I get there—but I will make it a priority to ascertain what vision would best serve the congregation and articulate that as soon as possible."

(This was my first and probably largest mistake. One take-away here is that, if the church itself doesn't have a clear, well-stated and widely-understood vision, then the pastor should not accept a call if they aren't ready and willing to accept his vision for them.)

As I met with members of the congregation, I inquired as to their sense of the identity of the church. Most could not give a clear answer, but the central idea that I got was, "we are not CFC." The core identity, such as it was, focused on how they were different from the mother church.

The trouble was, even here there were variations. Some loved aspects of CFC's ministry that others saw as insignificant or even worthy of abandoning. Others wanted a church that was different altogether.

When there is no single, unified vision in a church, it's not that there is no vision at all. Instead, in this case, there were many visions. And each member was holding out to see if their vision would prevail. As I worked with the leadership and began to hone a vision, it was clear to many others that their vision would NOT, indeed, prevail—and they left too.

Our numbers continued to decrease; one deacon, who had a knack for numbers, showed me a spreadsheet where he had tracked giving and attendance from the very beginning. It demonstrated a pattern of constant decline from the very early months, and that pattern held all the way to the last days.

We tried a number of approaches to stem the tide and turn things around, but were unable to do so. Last summer, we held a number of meetings with the congregation in which we discussed options for how we might continue forward. Ultimately, we voted to ask the presbytery to take us back to "mission church" status (essentially, to become a re-plant or a new church plant again). At that point, about half of our remaining people left.

Presbytery was cautious about it, and rightly so. After some further discussion, we came to the point where we didn't believe it would be fruitful to press on, and decided to close up for good in October.

Which brings us to now. That's my account of "what happened" as best as I can tell it.

Celebrating the Mac...

This week marked the 30th anniversary of the Apple Macintosh, otherwise known as the "Mac." Congratulations, Apple!

I love Macs. Some have "accused" me of being a Mac Evangelist (which, if you didn't know, is actually a thing), but I'm not: I don't seek out opportunities to tell people about my love for Macs, or try to convince them to switch to Mac. I am, however, always happy to field questions when people have them, and to tell them what I love about my Mac (and other Apple products). I see this more a mark of a satisfied customer than an evangelist—in other words, if you were as satisfied with your Windows or Linux computer as I am with my Mac, you would be happy to tell others about it, too.

I have a long history with Apple computers. In fourth grade (or maybe third?) our class went weekly to the computer lab, where we learned very basic (pun intended) stuff on Apple IIe computers. A couple of years later (in 1984), a friend showed me his dad's new computer, which he called a "Mac"—it had this weird thing I had never seen before, which my friend called a mouse, and when he started it up it smiled at us. I was curious.

Though my first computer was a Coleco Adam (the one with the cassette tapes for drives), I continued to use the Apple IIes in the computer labs at school until my junior year, when the school got a Mac Classic. Though it wasn't technically mine, this was "my first Mac"— seriously, I quickly became more adept with that Mac Classic than the computer teacher, and she would often refer people to me about how to do things she didn't know about.

When I graduated from high school, my graduation present was—you guessed it—a Mac: specifically, a Mac LC with the 13" (not the standard 12") color monitor AND one of the new Apple inkjet printers. The whole system cost my mom about $3K, and I used that Mac for years (my first introduction to the longevity of these machines). As a reminder of how far technology has come since then: I was able to be very comfortable with the 40 megabyte hard drive for a long time, and when I upgraded it to have 4 megs of RAM I was pretty sure I would never need more than that. I had a 56K dial-up modem with which I joined AOL (I was a charter member, username: BigEd3) and CompuServe (I don't remember my number; sorry).

Five years later, my mom gave me a laptop computer they weren't using at her office, and I had my first-ever introduction to a Windows-based computer. I came to appreciate the portable nature of that computer, and when my Mac finally was too old to run any of the current applications I wanted to run in '98, I found I couldn't afford a replacement Mac. I built a Windows-compatible computer then, and used that for a few years (also buying a Windows laptop for seminary a couple of years later).

In 2002, though, I once again had the pleasure of a Mac smiling at me when some friends of a seminary classmate offered him their iMac and he wasn't interested (so it came to me). I quickly re-embraced my Apple and Mac roots, and have run Macs exclusively since then.

These are the Macs I've owned (and/or my family has) in the intervening years:

• 12" iBook (2003)
  
• 13" MacBook (2006)
  
• 21" iMac (2006)
  
• 17" MacBook Pro (2007)
  
• 13" MacBook Pro (2010)
  
• 27" iMac (2012)
  
• 13" MacBook Air (2013)
  

I don't see any reason yet to consider other options. Thanks, Apple, for all that you've done to support my technological life for these 30+ years! Keep up the good work.

Liturgy, forms, and "everyone is wrong but me"

Jeremy Walker reports on the Reformation 21 blog that, in essence, the reason for the resurgence of interest in liturgy is because of the absence of spiritually substantial religion. In other words, the only reason why people might prefer a more formal liturgy is, he says, that they hope it might "fill the void" in their spiritually-empty lives.

That's interesting. I don't know Mr. Walker, nor am I aware of what congregation he is a member of—but in the circles I've moved in, it's actually the inverse of this: the people I know who are the most mature, spiritually, seem to have a growing interest in liturgy.

Mr. Walker's fellow Ref21 blogger, Carl Trueman, took him to task for his misunderstandings just 45 minutes later. He takes apart most of Mr. Walker's post better than I could.

All but one key idea. Mr. Walker concludes with this:

"The only thing that arrests the swing is when the anchor drops in the Word of God and simple, unaffected worship enlivened by the Holy Spirit is known and felt by saints who are satisfied with pursuing and enjoying God's promised ends by God's appointed means."

The great irony here is that Mr. Walker is under the impression that "simple" and "unaffected" worship is not, itself, a "form" and a "liturgy" of itself. He is welcome to his preference for a simple and plain form of worship—but let's not pretend that a plain form is anything other than exactly that.

Recipe: Christmas "Reindeer"

It's been a long time since I posted a recipe; here's a Eubanks family favorite.

We call these "reindeer" because (a) they do look kind of like Rudolph, and (b) it's simpler than "chocolate-peanut-M&M-pretzels." But that's basically all they are. They are delicious, and a great quick mouthful of wonderful. They package well for gifts (we typically put them in the cellophane treat bags that can be found at Walmart), or can fill out a tray for a party. (That is, if they last until the party! Ours always go fast.)

Here's what you need:

1 16oz. bag of small twist pretzels^*

2 11oz. bags of Hershey's Dark Chocolate Kisses

2-3 12.6oz. bags of Peanut M&Ms^†

Prep:

1. Preheat your oven to 200°.

2. Unwrap the Hershey's Kisses.

3. Separate red and green M&Ms (optional; see note †).

"Baking":

4. Cover a cookie sheet with parchment paper. (I strongly recommend a true cookie sheet, not a "jelly-roll" pan — you'll see why in step 9.)

5. Lay out pretzels covering the entire sheet of parchment paper^‡; it's okay to put them really close (give just a little margin, though). You'll find it easier later if you turn all of the pretzels so that they are oriented the same way.

6. Place one unwrapped Hershey's Kiss on each pretzel in the "bottom" part of the twist — the teardrop-shaped part — so that the tip of the Kiss is pointing toward the center. (See photo.)
7. Put the sheet of pretzels+Kisses in your pre-heated oven, just long enough to soften the chocolate thoroughly but not to the point of melting — 6–7 minutes is ideal in a 200° oven. (Be careful, too, of scalding the chocolate, which imparts a bitter taste.)

Finishing:

8. Place one M&M in the center of each softened Kiss. Go ahead and smash it down a good bit; this will set the M&M into the chocolate more firmly, and also cause the chocolate to spread around the pretzel better — all of which makes them stay together better after they set.

9. Slide the parchment paper off of the cookie sheet onto a table or counter. This step is technically optional, but doing so will allow them to cool and set faster, and free up your cookie sheet for another batch!

10. Allow them to cool and set until the chocolate is solid again.

Provenance:

Molly discovered these at a preschool holiday party. At that point, she was still a pretty picky eater (especially when it came to sweets), but when she tried these she said, "those are good!" I knew that I had to try them if she thought they were that good, and she was right!


The mom who brought them claimed she just threw them together; she wasn't planning on using the Dark Chocolate Kisses, but the store was out of milk chocolate ones. (What a happy accident!) Molly and I bought the stuff to make more on the way home from the party, and we've made multiple batches every year since.




* We prefer Rold Gold Tiny Twists; the flavor in them matches better with the sweet chocolate than Snyder's.

† If you're a Rudolph purist, get the holiday colors (red and green) and pick out all of the green ones — and in that case you'll need three bags. If you don't care about greens, reds, yellows, and browns, you can probably get by on just two bags.

‡ DON'T use wax paper; you'll never get all of it peeled off of the bottoms of the softened chocolate!

Thoughts on Amazon's "drone" announcement

I’ve seen a few pieces on Jeff Bezos’s announcement that Amazon intends to use “drones” (aka UAVs) for package delivery. (See the link here for one such article.)

At first I thought this was a piece from The Onion; frankly, I’ll be surprised if this really ends up happening. First of all, I’m thinking about the shear quantity of UAVs that will be required for something like this to work — and, consequently, the number of UAV operators Amazon will have to employ to bring it off. Somewhat contrary to their name, “unmanned aerial vehicles” are only un-manned in the vehicle itself; there is someone, somewhere, flying the thing. I suppose it is conceivable to program their routes to a degree, but the infrastructure for this is a long way off (if it is even possible). Let me elaborate a bit...

In order to program one UAV to go from point A to point B completely un-manned, the UAV itself would have to have very accurate GPS technology aboard, along with probably an altimeter and some other sensors to ensure that it doesn't crash-land. It would also have to be part of a well-established network that not only tracks that UAV, but also all of the others that are cleared to fly in that particular air-space. In other words, think of the work that the flight controllers currently do to make sure that planes don't crash into each other, and imagine trying to automate that entirely. Otherwise, we have fifty or hundred-pound UAVs crashing into each other and falling to the ground (or on top of your car, your house, or your kid).

Now, add to that the enormity of the number of UAVs that it would take to deliver Amazon's packages — even just the Prime ones, or even a subset of those. How many per day would that be? And would there be a limit to which items Amazon could deliver — or are they going to have some HUGE UAVs for the heavier stuff?

Third, I can see the Federal Aviation Administration having a lot to say about whether Amazon's program can actually take off (pun intended). I have a couple of friends who work pretty closely with UAVs, and a few others who are pilots; to hear them tell it, there's a long way to go before the kind of airspace clearance this would require will be available for general civilian use.

So Amazon has to get past the following obstacles:

• Acquire a huge number of UAVs and equip their distribution centers to use them
  
• Either (a) hire a ton of UAV pilots as, essentially, a team of Doug Heffernans — and are there even that many UAV pilots available? Or will Amazon pay for their training?
  
• OR, (b) build a massive computerized system that will allow all of those hundreds thousands of UAVs to operate fully-unmanned; AND retrofit the UAVs to run on that system flawlessly
  
• Only THEN can they appeal to the FAA for approval, which will cost them millions in lobbying money to get

And Bezos thinks they're going to do all of that by 2015?

Getting back to blogging, and an update

If any of my faithful 10s of readers are still around, they will have noticed that my blog went "dark" at the beginning of the summer. But for a single post a couple of weeks ago, I haven't blogged at all since early June.

That's about to change! I miss blogging, as I find it to be a venue for penning thoughts that are too long for Twitter or a Facebook status, but perhaps too esoteric or fleeting to merit an actual article. In the months to come, I intend to blog much more regularly again.

Many of my readers may also be curious about the latest news in my life — there are some major changes to report! (And, in fact, it is related to my absence in blogging.)

In late spring/early summer, things began to take a turn for the church I have served as pastor for the last two years. Over the summer and into the early fall, the congregation discussed the potential and plans for the future, and in the end we agreed that the best thing for all involved would be to close the doors and dissolve the church.

Which means that my "call" as pastor to that congregation dissolves, as well. The congregation generously cared for us with a severance package, and that gives us time to make our plans for what is next.

And those plans are beginning to come together. I will write more about that after the beginning of 2014, but I welcome your prayers in the meantime.

So, look for me to return to regular blogging, now that the stress, demands, and complexity of the last six months is behind me!

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.

Fears and Fearfulness

[From Pastor Ed… May 2013]

One of our children struggles regularly with fear. Most nights, this one can be found wandering out of their room much later than they should, excusing their stroll with some needless errand: "I needed to get a book" or "I wanted a sip of water" or "I thought I heard a noise." When pressed, they will eventually confess.

"I'm scared."

Half the time, they cannot even name what it is that they are scared of — and often, even if they can say, their fears are irrational and unnecessary. Tornados are not a major threat in Tucson; neither are snake infestations. The creepy urban legend that a playground friend mentioned isn't going to come true, either.

Sometimes, though, their fears are not irrational, but are quite real. No, I can't promise that we won't have a fire. I can't assure them that no one will ever break into our house, or that they are totally safe from kidnapping. And I can't always keep them from being alone.

As frustrating as this regular fearful streak can sometimes be, the truth is that I have my irrational fears too. I know that my fear of needles is totally unreasonable (not that needles are harmless, but what goes through my mind is completely groundless), but it gets me. Every time.

And I have fears that are completely within the bounds of reason. I think we all do. We have social fears: what if I do the wrong thing? Say the wrong thing? What if they stop liking me? Will I embarrass myself?

We have security fears: will I (or someone I love) get seriously ill? What will I do if we don't have enough to pay the bills? How will we make it if I lose my job?

And we have spiritual fears: How will I be able to withstand temptation? What do my doubts and uncertainties mean about my assurance of salvation? Will God stop loving me because of this or that deep, darkest secret?

On my best days, what I tell my child — and what I remind myself — is that God knows our fears. The real ones and the ridiculous ones. And even though I cannot provide all of the security that my child longs for or that I long for, God can. And even more than that, He does.

God doesn't promise me that I'll never get sick, but He promises that lasting and eternal healing is found in Him. He doesn't promise that I will never be in need, but that my truest needs are met — and that He both knows and cares about ALL of my needs. He doesn't promise me freedom from spiritual struggle, but He promises me freedom TO struggle (and He promises His presence with me in the midst of my struggles)!

Some days this is barely enough, and (much like my own child) I wander around in a fearful funk, clinging to the hope of God's promises. And other days it is more than enough, and I am lifted up beyond my fears!

I have fears that, if not unique, are at least more peculiar to me and my particular place and calling. What if the church doesn't make it? Have I totally misjudged my calling? Did I counsel poorly, or fail to serve in the right way, or lead others astray? You probably have particular fears of your own.

God is not indifferent to my peculiar fears, nor is He absent in them. He is not unmoved by your fears, either. Rather, he invites us to call out, like David:

"When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid."
Psalm 56:3-4