Jesus Of Nazareth: The Final Revelation Of God

By Thomas N. Smith

Q. 4. What is God? 

A. God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth.

Thus the Westminster Shorter Catechism defines God. [1] The great Princeton theologian, Charles Hodge, called this “probably the best definition of God ever penned by man. [2] A myriad of Reformed thinkers since Hodge has nodded their approval of this assessment. This is striking in that Hodge is a Christian theologian, while the “definition” in question is not distinctively Christian at all. Aristotle could have written it. In fact Aristotle did have a hand in its composition, in that the Puritan divines sitting in the Jerusalem Chamber of Westminster were all trained in the Aristotelian philosophy, logic, and rhetoric of a late-medieval university education. The influence of alien philosophies (such as Aristotle’s) upon Christian theology has continued to bedevil us to this day.

This is true even among the friends of the Bible. It happens like this. We want to talk about God; we begin with an idea of God. (The answer to Question 4 of the Westminster Shorter Catechism is as good as any and better than some.) We go on to discuss the existence of God, the attributes of God, the decrees of God, the works of God, etc. Before we do any of this, perhaps we should begin with epistemology: how we know, and, particularly, how we know about God. This leads us to questions of natural revelation, special revelation, the Bible, its inspiration, etc. After we have dealt with the questions of creation, providence, sin, etc., we finally come to Jesus Christ. Sadly, the whole agenda is set by a philosophical methodology alien to the Bible.

The mention just now of methodology is important because all this has to do with method. You will have already gathered that I believe that this particular method is flawed, fatally flawed. This is true at least from a Christian perspective. Nevertheless, this method has dominated Reformed theology long before Hodge and long since. [3] The result has not been a happy one, either for Christian thinking about God or for Christian proclamation of God.

Nor am I advocating the abandonment of systematic theology. What I am advocating is this: The God who is the true and living God cannot be known in truth apart from His final and full disclosure of Himself. This revelation has been made in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. Every prior revelation made by God was made by this God, and presupposes this ultimate revelation. The revelation of God made in the person and work of the Christ of history is the true and full revelation of God. Jesus Christ is the revelation, the Word of God. Thus we cannot begin with biblical statements about God’s sovereignty, omnipotence, and immutability without recourse to what the New Testament says about Jesus Christ. If we go down this road we shall inevitably wreck on the landslide of human reason.

Put another way, we may say the Christian idea of God is never abstract. And thinking about God that is truly Christian cannot be permitted to become abstract. This is because the taproot of idolatry is the human penchant for invention, the human tendency to construct ideas of God which we think are right, proper, and logical while they lack altogether a basis in God’s own self-disclosure. On the other hand the heart of Christian piety is submission to the revelation of the God who has revealed and named Himself, and has done this ultimately and decisively in the incarnation and naming of Jesus of Nazareth as Lord and Christ. We are bound to what God has said about Himself, to what He has said definitively in Jesus, and we must curb our curiosity, bridle our imagination, and control our tendency to extrapolate, lest we add to the words God has spoken about Himself. When we do this we distort God’s revelation and endanger our souls.

Well, then, who is this God? What can be said about Him? What does it mean to know God? How do we know Him?

“No Man Has Seen God At Any Time”

Ultimately, God is known only to Himself. He is the “hidden God” of classical Christian theology. This is the idea behind the “mystery” language of the Bible. A divine mystery is something known only to God unless and until He sovereignly and graciously chooses to reveal it. Indeed, we may even go further and say that a divine mystery is something that cannot be known unless it is revealed, and cannot be fully known even when it is revealed. And paramount in the divine knowledge is the knowledge of Himself. This is the truth of 1 Corinthians 2:11: “For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the spirit of the man, which is in him? Even so the thoughts of God no one knows except the Spirit of God.” It is the exclusivity of this self-knowledge that is being guarded when God responds to Moses’ impious request to see the divine glory in the immortal words, “But He said, ‘You cannot see My face, for no man can see Me and live!’” (Ex. 33:20). Moses’ knowledge of God will be limited to God’s own “proclamation” or revelation of His name (v. 19; cf. 34:6).

Exodus 33–34 is the definitive revelation of the divine name in the Old Testament. Witness the subsequent Old Testament references to God’s “name,” His “lovingkindness and faithfulness,” His “mercies,” etc. As such it becomes the foundational revelation-proclamation of who God is and what can be known of Him. Furthermore, it becomes the background of God’s final definitive revelation-proclamation of His Word in Jesus Christ (see John 1:1–8, esp. vv. 14–18). Again, we are served the precautionary reminder, “No man has seen God at any time.” The rest of the New Testament is not without this same humbling declaration of God’s transcendence in the face of our finite and fallen humanity. In Revelation 4–5 we are given a great apocalyptic vision of God. But the God we see on the throne is as hidden as He is revealed. John clearly borrows from the Old Testament apocalyptic tradition of Isaiah, Zechariah, and especially Ezekiel, which goes back to the revelation given to Moses and the elders of Israel in Exodus 24:9–18. The glory of God, again, is not seen directly. But when we come to John’s account of the Lamb everything is changed.

We see Him, and He and His accomplishment are explained to us. The mystery is not dissolved, but in the Lamb who is worshiped with God we see God.

The realization of God’s hiddenness is necessary for us who customarily “rush in where angels fear to tread.” It chastens our pride and undermines that sense of power which such knowledge tends to foster in our hearts. It reminds us of our idolatrous tendency to invent our god rather than to trust in the God who reveals and names Himself. It warns us against every tendency to speculate on the nature and character of God. “The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us” (Deut. 29:29).

Only By Self-Disclosure

In all personal relations, knowledge of someone depends on the willingness of that person to share himself with others. Most of us can remember the painful experience of an adolescent love affair that failed because the person we had a “crush” on did not return our interest. As adults, we have perhaps wished to know someone we greatly admired, i.e., a famous teacher or sports personality, only to have our letters or our personal introduction to him treated like a thousand others. Each of us knows what it is like to be approached repeatedly by someone who wishes to be intimate with us when the feeling is not mutual on our part; we withdraw, rather than reveal, ourselves.

We cannot know the true and living God unless He chooses to reveal or disclose Himself to us. Forsyth was right: “The God of the Bible is not discovered. He is not forced into the light, even of love, by any power outside Himself, not even by our misery.” [4] The mystery of the hidden God must be given to us in the grace of revelation. When the seventy disciples returned from their mission rejoicing that demonic powers were subject to them, the Lord cautioned them that they should reserve their joy for a greater reality: that their names were recorded in heaven. Whereupon Jesus broke into a charismatic hymn of praise, saying, “I praise You, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that Thou didst hide these things from the wise and intelligent and didst reveal them to babes.” Then He went on to explain: “... no one knows who the Son is except the Father, and who the Father is except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son wills to reveal Him” (Luke 10:17–22).

God is not discovered any more than He is invented by us. The religion of the Bible is a religion of grace and freedom wherein the personal God who knows Himself chooses to share facets of that knowledge with sinful men and women. Without His gracious initiative, we remain ignorant and what the Bible calls “in darkness.”

A Sacred History Of Saving Acts

The method God has chosen to reveal Himself to men is that of historical intervention. From creation to the call of Abraham, from the Exodus to the return of the exiles from Babylon, from the birth of Jesus of Nazareth to the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, God has disclosed Himself by entering human history—human history with all its weakness and sin, its killing and dying, its pomp and pitiableness, drenched in alcohol, burdened down with greed, seething with malice, obsessed with sex and power. God has entered our history in an electing grace that calls, forgives, chastens, and preserves those He chooses to vouchsafe with the knowledge of Himself.

The Bible is the record of this sacred history. It is an inspired record. Indeed, it is revelation. But it is also at a remove from the facts of this history, from the reality of these divine encounters with the human objects of His grace. The Bible is the written content of this sacred history of saving encounter with the God who wills to know and to be known by man. It is because of this that the men and women of the Bible loved to rehearse these historical and historic encounters in praise and proclamation (see Psalms 105–107 and Acts 13:16–41).

“The Bible Is Going Somewhere”

Karl Barth said, “The Bible is going somewhere.” The current and flow of the Bible in its record of these saving acts is moving from the A of creation to the Z of redemption or new creation. The force of this current is a person, at times dimly, at other times more clearly, revealed. The preachers and writers of the New Testament saw these promises and hopes fulfilled in Jesus of Nazareth (Acts 2:13–36; 7:2–53; 13:16–41). They entertained the confidence that in Jesus God had entered history in a decisive act of salvation, the salvation of the world. They conceived of this as a new Genesis (Mark 1:1; Matt. 1:1ff.; John 1:1). They interpreted it as a new creation (Gal. 6:15; 2 Cor. 4:6; Phil. 1:6; Eph. 2:10). They saw it as the creation of a new race and a new Israel (Matt. 10:1–5; 21:33–43; Col. 2:8–15; 3:9–11; Gal. 3:23–4:31; 6:16). They anticipated its consummation in a new Eden whose paradise would encompass the heavens and the earth (Rev. 2:7; 21:1–7).

And at the center of all this they saw Jesus of Nazareth, first born of creation, of the dead, and of many brothers and sisters (Col. 1:15, 18; Rom. 8:29). They perceived Him in His own self-declaration as “the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last” (Rev. 2:8; 22:13).

“The Only Begotten Son Has Revealed Him”

The apostles and prophets of the New Testament viewed Jesus of Nazareth as the final and full revelation of the God of Israel. John’s treatment of this theme is illustrative of this general consensus. In the prologue of his Gospel, John proclaims Jesus as the true God of Israel, the Word of God, the Creator of all things, the God whom Israel rejected as she had throughout her history, yet received by a new family of sons and daughters who are identified, not according to ethnic distinctives, but by a supernatural birth (John 1:1–18). Moreover, in the enfleshment or incarnation of Jesus John saw the revelation of the God of grace and truth, of lovingkindness and faithfulness who had proclaimed His name to Moses on Sinai (Ex. 33–34). Those apostolic witnesses of the life of Jesus have seen the God of glory, whose glory cannot be seen. The Word of God has come in human flesh as God’s full and final explanation (exegesis) of Himself (John 1:14–18).

It is in light of this that Jesus can say in answer to Philip’s request (not unlike the exchange between Moses and God on Sinai [Ex. 33:18–20]), “Have I been so long with you, and yet you have not come to know Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father” (John 14:9). It is out of this matrix that Jesus can pray, “This is eternal life, that they may know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent” (17:3; see also 1 John 5:20). Furthermore, John’s portrayal of Jesus’ self-conscious use of the “I AM” of Exodus throughout the fourth gospel (“I am the light of the world,” “I am the bread of life,” etc.), culminating in the intriguing record of John 18:4–8, clearly has as its purpose to set forth Jesus as the revealed name of God, revealed for the salvation of His people.

What we are given in the documents of the New Testament is this revelation of God, a revelation finalized in the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth. Here the mystery of God received its culminating disclosure! Who is God? What is He like? How can we know Him? We are to look no further than Jesus Himself. “God, after He spoke long ago to the fathers in the prophets in many portions and in many ways, in these last days has spoken to us in His Son” (Heb. 1:1–2). In Francis Schaeffer’s classic phrase: “He is there, and He is not silent.” This is because God who has intervened throughout human history to reveal, to speak, to save has now done so climactically in the Lord Jesus Christ!

The Primacy Of Jesus Christ

It is the failure to grasp the primacy of Jesus Christ, not simply as “the Mediator,” but as the revelation of God that has caused classic or scholastic Reformed theology to fail despite all its wonderful promise. In a sense, this failure goes all the way back to Calvin himself. Many of us have struggled through the first book of the Institutes precisely because of this confusion in Calvin. This confusion is the result of his theological method that sees Jesus as the Mediator but fails to do justice to Him as the Revelation of God, the same method that we earlier criticized in the elder Hodge. [5] Nor is this to suggest that the Reformed tradition—from Calvin to Westminster to Hodge—is not, strictly speaking, Christian. The very idea is as inane as it is arrogant. What I do wish to propose was well said in 1902 by Willis J. Beecher:

The Calvinistic theology is Christocentric in fact, even if not in form. Perhaps some theologian will arise who shall succeed in discovering a dogmatical rearrangement into a system that shall be Christocentric in form as well as in fact. [6]

I believe that such a synthesis of fact and form lies in a new and deeper understanding of Christ Jesus the Lord as the revealer of God’s nature and person. Jesus must be seen not simply, or even profoundly, as the Mediator of the New Covenant, but as the content of the New Covenant, the final and full Word of God, spoken by God, spoken as God.

About the Author

Thomas N. Smith is pastor of Randolph Street Baptist Church, Charleston, West Virginia, and also serves as associate editor of Reformation & Revival Journal. He is a regular conference speaker, married and the father of three children. He also contributes regularly to Reformation & Revival Journal.

Notes

1. “It is difficult to conceive of God, but to define Him in words is an impossibility.” Gregory of Nazianzus, quoted in Donald G. Bloesch, God the Almighty (Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity, 1995), 31.
2. Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1970), 1:367.
3. Hodge is a good example of this flawed methodology: see his Systematic Theology, I:31–33, and passim. For an example of a theologian working within the classic catholic and reformation consensus, who shows a keen sensitivity to the issues I am raising, see Donald G. Bloesch, Christian Foundations (Downers Grove: InterVarsity). Four of the projected seven volumes have been published. See especially God the Almighty in this series, 17–78.
4. Quoted in Bloesch, God the Almighty, 59.
5. Sidney Greidanus makes a similar point on the preaching of Calvin. He argues that Calvin’s preaching is finally theocentric, not Christocentric: “Thus in his sermons on narrative texts, his homily style of explaining and applying every sentence and clause leads to the loss of the central message of the biblical author for Israel. This loss of focus, in turn, leads to a lack of unity in his sermons, and, ultimately, blurs the Christ-centered focus (Preaching Christ from the Old Testament [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999], 151).
6. Willis J. Beecher, The Prophets and the Promise (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1977), 194.

Truly Man, But More Than Man: Reflections In Christology

By Peter Toon

For people of orthodox Christian convictions, for whom the deity of Jesus Christ is a central and critical affirmation, one of the urgent tasks of Christology today consists in exploring the aspects and implications of the human existence of Jesus Christ. This is so because it is in Christ’s humanity that His divinity is revealed. Revelation is produced in the Man, Jesus, and thus all we can know of the words, actions and events of the human life of Jesus are of great importance to us if we desire truly to know the real identity of Jesus Himself, who called God “Abba.” In fact we find that as we examine the human figure from Nazareth we discover that while He is always fully and truly a Man, He also exceeds human dimensions and manifests what we can only call a transcendence or divine dimension that immediately leads us to His Father, God, and then back to Jesus as the Son of this holy and eternal Father.

Because we are earth-bound creatures, Christological thinking and inquiry necessarily start from the humanity of Jesus. There is thus a priority of the human dimension in such study, for being human we naturally encounter Jesus as truly Man as we begin. However, to state this obvious fact is not to commit ourselves to a false methodology which first considers Jesus Christ the Man and then moves on to discover or ascend to Christ as God. We find in practice as we read, study and meditate that the whole of Jesus’ humanity is a revelation of the divine. The totality of the human life of Jesus forms a whole and it is in this wholeness that His divine identity is revealed. Christ Jesus is a Man, but a Man who manifests and reveals God, for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.

In saying this about the priority of the human starting point, we are stating that there is truth in what is often called “Christology from below.” However, any rigorous study of the gospel texts will also necessarily involve sooner or later a “Christology from above,” simply because the whole Old Testament background to the ministry of Jesus as Messiah points to a movement from God to man. Jewish monotheism had a single point of departure, namely Yahweh Himself. Further, Jesus did not arise in just any place; He was born within the bosom of a people who had been brought by divine providence into a covenant with the true God, Yahweh. Thus the reader of the Gospels and Epistles has to think in a downward direction from heaven to earth and from God to man as he studies various critical passages such as John 1:1–14 and Philippians 2:6–11. For here as elsewhere a Christology from above cannot be avoided.

By studying the content of the text, Christology is committed to exploring the deepest mystery which consists in the act of incarnation. God the Father so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son to the world in order to bring salvation and redemption to the world. So it is no surprise to discover as we read the Gospels that the love of the Man, Jesus (the Incarnate Son), for man is the most poignant mark of His earthly life. And this love is the very love of the Father for the Son and of the Son for the Father.

Incarnation

What took place at the conception of Jesus in the womb of Mary made it different from any other conception of a human being. There was not the coming into existence of a new human person who did not previously exist, but there was the taking of a new human nature, a perfect and complete human nature, by a divine person who already existed from all eternity. Mary provided Jesus with His humanity but not with His existence, for the Person of the Son, the Logos (Word), is the second person of the blessed, holy and undivided Trinity from everlasting to everlasting.

In the words of the second anathema of the fifth General/Ecumenical Council (553):

If anyone does not confess that there are two generations of the God the Word, the one before all ages of the Father, without time and without body; the other in these last days when the Word of God came down from heaven and was made flesh of the holy and glorious Mary, Mother of God (theotokos—birth giver of God), and ever-virgin, and was born of her: let him be anathema.

What happened in the womb of Mary was unlike what had happened in the conception of Mary herself (and this remains so if we admit with some of the early Reformers and orthodox Catholics the doctrine of the immaculate conception wherein she was by the grace of God purified of original sin). The conception of Mary by her mother was not virginal, for Mary had a human father as well as a human mother. In contrast Mary’s Son had a human mother but no human biological father. Practically speaking, however, Joseph acted as His father.

The incarnation took place at the annunciation when in response to Mary’s Fiat the Word was made flesh, truly man, in her womb (Luke 1:45). God the Father did not by His Holy Spirit merely grab Mary and use her for His redemptive purpose (although He could have done so as the Almighty God). Mary might (without being consulted in the matter) have found herself pregnant, as mother of the incarnate Son. But there are moral as well as biological aspects to her unique conception. Mary was not a passive instrument in the hands of the Almighty God. She accepted her vocation: “Be it unto me according to Thy word,” and only then was the Word made flesh.

In fact it is important to note that Mary’s Fiat is the culmination of a long process of obedience and faith within the remnant of Israel. She represents the faithful in Israel, those who have kept the covenant of their God. She was not merely “highly favored” but “endued with grace” (R.V. margin) and even as the Vulgate has it, plena gratiae, “full of grace.”

The church has rightly believed, taught and confessed that Jesus is literally human, and that He took His human nature by the physical process of gestation and birth from a human mother. Since Mary gave Him His human nature but not His existence, the virginal conception was thoroughly congruous with the circumstances of this unique case. In the words of the Nicene Creed, Jesus (the incarnate Son/Logos) “was incarnate from the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and was made man.” So the infant Jesus, the young man Jesus, the carpenter Jesus of Nazareth, was never less than fully human, the new and second Adam, but He was more, much more—He was God incarnate.

However, a careful reading of the Gospels will disclose that Jesus Christ (whatever else He was) was a real, male, human being. He was circumcised and grew up as other boys did; He walked and talked; He ate and He slept; He knew hunger, thirst, weariness, joy, sorrow, anger, pain and death. Jesus was a first-century Palestinian Jew, sharing the physical and mental features of His Jewish background. He spoke Aramaic (with occasional Hebrew and Greek) and traveled the country as a rabbi, interpreting His people’s Scriptures. He kept the Jewish festivals, engaged in prayer and offered sacrifice in the temple.

While the four evangelists show no interest in what we could call today the psychology of Jesus, they do assume that He had a mind-soul, because they ascribe to Him such mental acts and attitudes as joy and sorrow, compassion and anger, love and affection. We must also assume that Jesus developed as a human being according to the general laws of nature so that His maturity at each stage of His development from infancy to manhood was according to the laws of nature. Thus He would not as a five-year-old have either the strength or the reasoning capacity of a fifteen-year-old. The mentality of Jesus developed pari passu with His bodily development.

At the same time we have to take into account two major factors which bear on the quality of the humanity of Jesus. Since Jesus possesses perfect human nature, not diseased, fallen human nature, we should expect capacities and powers to be manifest in Him with which we are not familiar in the best of sinful human beings. Further, since Jesus is the incarnate Word and His human nature is in the closest relation to His divine nature, we should expect the manhood of Jesus to reveal unique aspects not seen in other human beings. Now to decide when either or both of these factors is operative is not easy, but their presence must be borne in mind.

One Person Made Known In Two Natures

When we come to evaluate the content of the ministry of Jesus and of His saving actions we benefit the most from reading the sacred text when we adopt the “mindset” provided for us by the church after long and profound reflection upon the identity of Jesus as portrayed in the Gospels. The point here is that, in the words of the Ecumenical Councils of the patristic period, He is always and only one person, not a human person joined to a divine person. He is one person who is wholly God and wholly Man. Thus everything He is and says and does is of and from the one person who possesses two natures, one divine and one human.

In the words of the “Definition of Faith” of the Council of Chalcedon (A.D. 451):

Following, then, the holy Fathers, we all with one voice teach that it should be confessed that our Lord Jesus Christ is one and the same Son, the Same perfect in Godhead, the Same perfect in manhood, the Same consisting of a rational soul and body; consubstantial with the Father as to his Godhead, and the Same consubstantial with us as to his manhood; in all things like unto us, sin only excepted; begotten of the Father before the ages as to his Godhead, and in the last days, the Same, for us and for our salvation, of the Virgin Mary, Mother of God [Theotokos—birth-giver of God] as to his manhood.

Here the repeated use of the word “Same” makes the point that it is the one and the same Son who was/is with the Father for all eternity who is the very Jesus, incarnate God, with us in space and time.

The “Definition” continues thus:

We confess one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, Only-begotten, made known in two natures which exist without confusion, without change, without division, without separation; the difference in the two natures being in no wise taken away by reason of the union, but rather the properties of each being preserved, and [both] concurring into one Person [prosopon] and one hypostasis, not parted or divided into two Persons [prosopa], but one and the same Son, Only-begotten, the divine Word, the Lord Jesus Christ; even as the prophets of old have spoken concerning him, and as the Lord Jesus Christ himself has taught us and the Creed of our fathers has handed down.

The distinctive theology of this “Definition” is the equal recognition given both to the unity and duality of the incarnate Word, the Lord Jesus Christ. To express the oneness of the person, two words, prosopon and hypostasis, are used; and to express the elements or natures of Godhead and manhood, one word, physis, is used. Each of these three Greek words is used in a technical way, a way formed by Christian thinking and usage and not by Greek philosophy as such.

[Prosopon, originally “face” or “countenance,” is used of the “face of Yahweh” in the Septuagint. Its developed meaning is that of the Latin persona pointing to a distinct person who has a genuine role and who is in relationship with others. Hypostasis pointed to the specific realization or expression of a concrete, perceptible reality. Its Latin equivalent is subsistentia. Thus it complemented prosopon.]

At the next Ecumenical Council, held in Constantinople in 553, it was made very clear that the person, the hypostasis or prosopon, of Christ is the preexistent Son or Logos of the Father. Then, at the later Ecumenical Council, also held in Constantinople, in 680–81, the duality of the natures of the one person was underlined:

We likewise declare that in him are two natural wills and two natural operations which undergo no division, no change, no partition, no confusion, in accordance with the teaching of the holy Fathers. And these two natural wills are not opposed to each other (God forbid!) ... but his human will follows (and that not as resisting or reluctant), but rather as subject to his divine and omnipotent will ... We recognize the miracles and the sufferings as of one and the same Person, according to the differences of the two natures of which he is, and in which he has his being.

Thus we may say that the unity of the two natures and wills/operations in the one Christ is not that of a parallelism but more like that of a synthesis of the two, which concur in the one prosopon of the incarnate God.

In reading the Gospels we see that it is the one and the same Christ who is weary and who calms the raging waters, who is hungry and who feeds the multitude, who bleeds from wounds and who heals the incurable, who is crucified/dies and who raises Lazarus from the dead. It is the one Christ with two natures who acts out of one and then out of the other and always perfectly in harmony. And, of course, the human nature as perfect creature, is always obedient to the divine. But obviously when He dies on the cross and is buried and is raised from the dead it is according to His human nature, for His divine nature has abundant, rich, eternal life and is incapable of death. However, because He is the one, eternal Son/Word possessing two natures, what He does in His atoning sacrificial death is given a value which proceeds from His divine nature. This value is more than sufficient to cover all sins through all space and time, for He who died and rose again in His humanity is very God made Man, the incarnate Word.

It is Christ the Man (the one person made known and acting according to His human nature) whom people see and behold initially. However, by faith and the illumination of the Holy Spirit, some people also begin to see the deeper truth concerning the one person—”Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.” After His resurrection and the descent of the Holy Spirit to convict people of sin and open their inward eyes, more people begin to recognize the true identity of Jesus—”My Lord and my God” and “Jesus Christ is Lord.”

The Exaltation Of The Incarnate Son

It is extremely important to believe, teach and confess that it was the incarnate Lord, the one person, who was resurrected, who ascended into heaven, who was exalted to the Father’s right hand in glory and who reigns there as Prophet, Priest and King. That is, it is the one person with His two natures who ascended and reigns in glory. His human nature/body changed or developed in that it was glorified, supernaturalized and immortalized (as will be ours by His grace), but it did not change in essence, for He is still of the same substance as we in His humanity. In fact He is the Man of prayer—He ever lives to make intercession for us.

Our hope to be in and with Him in glory with a body like unto His glorious body is wholly dependent upon Him remaining as we are, possessing a full, perfected humanity, for it is within that humanity that we are and shall be enclosed so that we are assured of eternal life and everlasting bliss. We shall behold the glory of the Father in the face of Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son, and serve Him unceasingly.

A very biblical way to speak of the life of the incarnate Word in heaven and on earth is in terms of sonship. Here we may benefit from the insight of Dr. Austin Farrer:

We cannot understand Jesus as simply the God-who-was-man. We have left out an essential factor, the sonship. Jesus is not simply God manifest as man; he is the divine Son coming into manhood. What was expressed in human terms here below was not bare deity; it was divine sonship. God cannot live an identically godlike life in eternity and in a human story. But the divine Son can make an identical response to the Father, whether in the love of the blessed Trinity or in the fulfillment of an earthly ministry. All the conditions of actions are different on the two levels: the filial response is one. Above, the appropriate response is a cooperation in sovereignty and an interchange of eternal joys. Then the Son gives back to the Father all that the Father is. Below, in the incarnate life, the appropriate response is an obedience to inspiration, a waiting for direction, an acceptance of suffering, a rectitude of choice, a resistance to temptation, a willingness to die. For such things are the stuff of our existence; and it was in this very stuff that Christ worked out the theme of heavenly sonship, proving himself on earth the very thing he was in heaven; that is, a continual act of filial love (The Brink of Mystery [London: SPCK, 1976], 20).

Because Jesus is the Son and because by the grace of God believers are united to this Son, they share in His filial relation to the Father. They are adopted as sons of God and they are given the gift of the indwelling Spirit of the Father and the Son and thus they are enabled truly to pray, “Our Father....” They live in sonship in hope of the resurrection of the dead, the redemption of their bodies and the experience of the fullness of sonship in heaven with the incarnate Son Himself.

About the Author

Peter Toon (D.Phil., Oxford) was ordained in the Church of England in 1973, is the author of more than twenty books and is the president of the Prayer Book Society of the Episcopal Church, U.S.A. This is his first contribution to Reformation & Revival Journal.

For Further Reading

Jean Galot, Who Is Christ? A Theology of the Incarnation (Chicago: Franciscan Press, 1981).

H. R. Percival, The Seven Ecumenical Councils of the Undivided Church. Vol. 14 of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd series (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson Publications, 1994).

N. F. Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 2 vols. (Washington D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1990).

Living On The Ragged Edge: Christian Faithfulness In A Time Famine

By Denis D. Haack

Busyness is one of the predominant characteristics of our age. It isn’t necessary to try to prove that assertion: the proposition seems so self-evident, and the complaint so ubiquitous as to make any attempt to prove it seem superfluous. It would also seem self-evident that Christians living in such an age would be careful—and quick—to reflect biblically on it, since the press of busyness exercises such a powerful effect on their lives and culture. In point of fact, however, it is far from evident that most believers are attempting anything of the kind, even though they may complain regularly about the “shortage of time” and its accompanying problems. The leadership of the church must take the lead in thinking Christianly about the modern understanding of time and the busyness which no one claims to want, but which few appear to escape. For one thing, we are created to live in time as finite creatures, and must never assume, in a fallen world, that our view of time is fully biblical. Besides, being busy is no guarantee of Christian faithfulness. Martha was involved with “many things,” Jesus said, but that did little to impress Him since, from His perspective, “only one thing was necessary” (Luke 10:41–42). It is of little value to have a full calendar if we have no time for what the Lord deems essential.

This is not to suggest, however, that evangelical leaders have been silent on the topic. We too sense the press of busyness in our lives and ministry, and we often exhort our people to “seek God and His kingdom” as a first priority in their lives and commitments. If we are honest, though, experience seems to indicate that these exhortations are insufficient in themselves to solve the problem. Neither is the growth of “time management seminars” in evangelical circles, though some of them teach helpful techniques and can sometimes provide real—if temporary—relief. More is needed than exhortations and techniques because the problem of busyness, at root, is more complex than either “solution” assumes. In any case, the incidence of burnout among committed believers and church leaders should be adequate warning that a problem has infected the church—and the culture—which requires careful discernment.

My goal in this article—given the depth of the problem—is a very modest one: to identify three areas of biblical instruction which together can become the beginning point for reflecting biblically on time and the problem of busyness. I will not try to trace all the sources for our busyness, though that could be a helpful exercise. I will not even try to define the various ways in which busyness saps spiritual vitality, though that is, without doubt, of concern to the readers of this publication. There are also no techniques here, though that is not to suggest that some Christians might not profit from learning how to more effectively manage their calendars. And though I will not specifically mention Jesus’ instruction to “seek first His kingdom,” that is not to suggest that an exposition of Matthew 6 will not be part of the discernment process. Rather, these three areas are identified because they are discussion starters, opening the door for fruitful reflection, biblical teaching, and nuanced application.

1) The doctrine of creation teaches there is no “time famine.” “There simply is not enough time,” we often say. “If only we had more time!” It is highly doubtful, of course, that having more time would solve anything, for the simple reason that if we cannot manage the amount we have been given, what makes us think we could handle more? The complaint is common enough. Its origin is not in God’s Word, but in our modern culture which prizes productivity and efficiency more than almost anything else. “The sun rises and the sun sets; and hastening to the place it rises there again,” the Teacher notes. “All things are wearisome; man is not able to tell it” (Eccl. 1:5, 8). That Christians would be burdened with time in a fallen world is not surprising; that we so uncritically adopt a mode of whining from a fallen culture is sad. Though it is easy to imagine what we would do with the extra hour if we were suddenly granted twenty-five hours in each day, there is every reason to believe the press of busyness would continue largely unabated.

Still, the “time famine” is keenly felt, and its impact is tremendous. “The result of this famine,” Leland Ryken writes, “is that most people feel rushed and frantic in their weekly routine, as well as guilty about what they have not accomplished.” [1] And yet there is an interesting paradox here. The lack of time we feel and the press of busyness we are under is often a cause for anxiety, but in some ways we embrace it eagerly, and feel guilty if we have too much time on our hands, or are not busy enough. Listen closely to the complaints, and often there is more than a hint of pride in our busyness. Busy people are important, and their busyness proves it. One author recently asked whether “being busy in adulthood” should not be seen as similar to what “being popular” amounted to in high school. [2] Similar notions infect the church. I recently heard one evangelical mention that a certain speaker “may not be worth inviting,” since he was available at such short notice. Are not the really good speakers booked a year or two in advance?

One thing is certain: if we intend to think Christianly about time and busyness, we need to begin biblically, and according to Scripture, there is no time famine. God created us to live and serve Him in twenty-four hour days, in a cycle of work and rest over the course of each week—and He called the arrangement “good.” We may be too busy, of course, or we might feel guilty about not doing more, but those are very different issues. There is simply no shortage of time, and for Christians to speak of a “time famine” is to call into question the wisdom of the Creator. Christ taught, healed, lived, died, and pleased the Father without ever appearing harried, and is never recorded as saying that He would have healed more lepers “if only there had been enough time.”

There is no time famine. The Christian mind does not approach the problem of busyness by bemoaning the lack of time, but by giving thanks. “I was daily His delight,” Wisdom says of the Creation, “rejoicing always before Him, rejoicing in the world, His earth” (Prov. 8:30–31). God’s declaration that His creation was “very good” includes His making us fit in the time he made, and for that we can be very grateful, indeed. We have not been made for twenty-five hour days or eight-day weeks, and so there is no need to try to act as though we were. Nor do we have to feel guilty that needs remain in this sad world when we stop our work to rest as God has commanded. Rather, we can serve and love Him with gratitude, working with all our might for His glory, and then we can rest, again in gratitude, secure in the knowledge that His plans for us fit in the time He has graciously provided. We have good news for our modern world: there is no time famine, and our witness to that conviction should begin with deep gratitude for the gracious limits ordained by the Creator for us, His finite creatures, and a growing contentment born of the certainty that the twenty-four hour day is precisely what we were made for.

2) The doctrine of the fall teaches that culture and technology, though good gifts, can also have negative effects. Some busyness comes from living in this modern fallen world. It is tempting to address the challenge of modern busyness simply as an issue of our personal priorities. We make time for what is important to us, it is often said, and if we are too busy, our priorities need to be reevaluated. “Put God first,” Christians insist, and much of what burdens our calendars will be shown to be superfluous, at best, and detrimental at worst. There is a great deal of truth in all this, of course, and most of us have experienced the freedom that comes when we learn to distinguish what is truly important from the merely urgent. Chances are that finite people in a fallen world will always need to do such reevaluation on a regular basis.

Even when we are careful to reevaluate our priorities, however, the press of busyness usually remains. The reason is that though busyness is often a problem of priorities, it is also much more than that. More specifically, some of the busyness that plagues us comes not from our poor choices, but from what we can call the structures of modern culture. Whether we realize it or not, our lives have been molded by the technological advances of the Industrial Revolution, and one result of that revolution is a faster pace to life, increased expectations, and the tendency to cram more into every minute of every day. “Technology has accelerated the pace of life,” [3] Ryken notes, though too few of us have reflected deeply on what faithfulness means given the reality of that fact.

Consider this timeline which notes just a few of the inventions that have drastically altered the pace of life:

• Early 1800s: trains and steamships greatly accelerated the speed of transportation and communication across long distances.
• 1840s: telegraph companies formed.
• 1875: the invention of the telephone permits instantaneous communication over distance.
• 1876: the first alarm clock appears, and punctuality becomes increasingly important.
• 1951: long-distance direct-dial phone service is introduced, making mail seem slow.
• 1953: TV dinners are introduced, making cooking seem slow.
• 1973: Fed Ex service begins, making mail seem even slower.
• 1985: Fax machines appear, making Fed Ex seem slow.
• 1990: E-mail proliferates, and faxing seems slow.

Most families have multiple automobiles, raising the expectation that family members will be in more places at the same time. We have answering machines when we are away from the phone, and call-waiting when on the phone. And though E-mail can be a helpful technology, there is a built-in expectation that E-mail messages will be answered quickly; take two weeks as if it were a letter, and you may get a second message asking about the delay.

Or think about the tasks that make up a normal day. Up until about the end of World War I, a majority of Americans lived and worked on farms or in relatively small communities. Whether a farmer or merchant, they may have worked long hours, but the tasks of earning their livelihood, getting physical exercise, and spending time with their family were often accomplished in the same time period. Today, these three tasks must, in most families, be pursued successively, with time for exercise and family added to those required to earn a living.

Or, to take another example, though call-waiting can be a helpful technology, why do we feel obligated to interrupt a conversation simply because someone else has dialed our number? Not only does this raise questions about the significance we are placing on the conversation already in progress, but it subtly complicates and increases the pace of life. This is not an argument against call-waiting; it is a plea to reflect Christianly on the impact of technology on our lives and families. The doctrine of Creation insists we cannot see ourselves apart from human culture, and the doctrine of the fall insists that though culture and technology are good gifts, in a sinful world they may also have significant negative effects.

Recognizing such sociological realities does not absolve us from responsibility, of course, but rather serves to more accurately define the parameters of the problem. We are responsible to live faithfully, but that faithfulness must be carved out in lives that are embedded in technologies which, though useful, also tend to increase the pressure of busyness by their very existence and use. Certainly we must reevaluate our priorities, but we must also examine how the structures of modern life impinge on our time, expectations, and consciousness, and ask discerning questions about that as well.

3) We must recover the biblical teaching on calling, work and rest. Only when we know what to say “Yes” to, can we say “No” to so many good things. Another reason that exhorting people to reevaluate their priorities is of limited helpfulness is that relatively few Christians have any sense of their calling. The practical difficulty most of us face in our busyness is having to choose between an ever-growing plethora of good options. We are beneficiaries of the Industrial Revolution, which means we enjoy advances in communication and transportation which previous generations could only imagine. The dark side of this good gift, however, is that the options before us, day by day, are enormously multiplied and are growing all the time, and—here’s the rub—we must choose among them. There are always more tapes to listen to, books to read, seminars to attend, and needy folks within reach. The mobility and options at our disposal in such things is remarkable compared to even one generation ago. But how can we choose among so many good things, unless we know our particular calling before the Lord? Only if we know what we should say “yes” to, will we be able to say No to so many good opportunities to minister, learn, and fellowship.

In the Institutes, Calvin addresses the notion of calling in a way which seems to speak directly to our modern problem of busyness in a pluralistic culture:

[T]he Lord bids each one of us in all life’s actions to look to his calling. For he knows with what great restlessness human nature flames, with what fickleness it is borne hither and thither, how its ambition longs to embrace various things at once. Therefore, lest through our stupidity and rashness everything be turned topsy-turvy, he has appointed duties for every man in his particular way of life. And that no one may thoughtlessly transgress his limits, he has named these various kinds of living “callings.” Therefore each individual has his own kind of living assigned to him by the Lord as a sort of sentry post so that he may not heedlessly wander about throughout life. [4]

In Mark 1:35–45, Jesus is confronted with both overwhelming need and great opportunity to minister. Crowds of needy people sought Jesus the previous evening, and he ministered to them late into the night. “When evening had come, after the sun had set, they began bringing to Him all who were ill and those who were demon-possessed,” Mark records. “The whole city gathered at the door” (Mark 1:32–33). The next morning He rose before light and slipped away to pray alone. The crowd reappeared, and after searching, the disciples finally found Him. “Everyone is looking for you!” they said, but His reply must have surprised them.” Let us go somewhere else—to the nearby villages,” Jesus told them, “so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.” We know that Jesus made Himself available to needy people, but because He knew His calling before the Father, He could be obedient even when faced with several good options to choose from. In other words, He could say No to good things—even to meeting the needs of a waiting crowd—in order to do what was needed, and that was defined by the calling given to Him by the Father. And from what we can tell in the text, Jesus did this without sin, without guilt-feelings, without everyone necessarily understanding, and in the expectation that His disciples would follow Him.

Is it a coincidence that this decisiveness followed a period of prayer, an early morning time alone with His Father? Could it be that if we were faithful in seeking God’s face we too would have a deeper assurance of what the Puritans referred to as our “specific or particular calling” before God? And will we ever be able to say No to so many good and attractive options if we don’t first know what to say “Yes” to?

Oz Guinness writes:

The Christian understanding of motivation is one of the deepest, richest, and most distinctive parts of the faith. Partly expressed in such notions as serving God, pleasing God, and glorifying God, it is developed most fully in the biblical doctrine of “calling.” The Christian notion of calling, or vocation, is the conviction that human existence contains a life-purpose and a life-task, namely that all we are and all we do—our identities, gifts, and responsibilities—have a direction and dynamic because they are lived out as a response to a calling, or summons, from God.” [5]

But this, sadly, is a rich area of biblical teaching which has been largely lost within the evangelical community. It is difficult to understand how we can be discerning about time and the press of modern busyness if we do not see to its recovery.

Busyness is often also related to mistaken views of work and rest. Some Christians overvalue one at the expense of the other, some ignore the creational mandate that they be related in a weekly cycle, and some simply adopt cultural views of them instead of viewing them through the spectacles of Scripture. Whatever the reason for the lack, however, the problem of busyness often results simply because it occurs by default—the fact of the matter is that busyness must be intentionally kept in check or it tends to grow.

Yet, sadly, even in Reformed circles few believers seem to appreciate the wonder of the biblical order. Many approach the topic of work and rest rather legalistically, and have what appears to be a pharisaical concern with what others should and should not do on any particular day. Though they can be applauded for insisting on rest as well as work, they demonstrate little grace in their observances and even less in their discussions on the topic. Regardless of the details, however, so many false ideas about work and rest are rampant in the surrounding culture that Christians need to be sure their thinking and behavior are in line with the truth of God’s Word. And it will be difficult to think rightly about time and busyness if we do not think biblically about calling, work and rest.

If Time Permits ...

In one of the classics of Puritan literature, Jeremiah Burroughs defines Christian contentment as “that sweet, inward, quiet, gracious frame of spirit, which freely submits to and delights in God’s wise and fatherly disposal in every condition.” [6] Though there is nothing in Scripture which suggests that efficiency and productivity—in their proper place and application—are contrary to godliness, surely the frenetic busyness that presses in on us is counter to nurturing contentment. So many parents keep so busy, for example, shuffling their children from one activity to another (many of which are organized by the church), that this commitment soon feels oppressive. One scholar refers to this sort of thing as “anti-leisure.” Duties may be assumed freely, but “undertaken compulsively, as a means to an end, for a perception of necessity with a high degree of externally composed constraints, with considerable anxiety, with a high degree of time consciousness, with a minimum of personal autonomy.” [7] Just reading that definition is wearisome! But impressions aside, the more serious question is whether anti-leisure is not antithetical to contentment. Yet this plunge into endless rounds of activities for families seems to be simply taken for granted by many believers. And so the busyness expands, with minimal reflection and discernment.

To be discerning about the press of busyness requires a nuanced application of the truth of God’s Word to a multifaceted and very human problem. That is the challenge, and with joy we can recognize that the biblical revelation of creation, fall, and redemption provides a balanced and powerful foundation for thinking clearly about busyness even though so many of us are so busy we imagine we don’t have the time to consider it at all.

About the Author

Denis D. Haack, editor of Critique and a former IVCF staff member, codirects Ransom Fellowship with his wife Margie, a writing and speaking ministry designed to help Christians gain skill in discernment—in applying the truth of God’s word to their lives, vocations, and culture. The Haacks live in Rochester, Minnesota.

Notes

1. Leland Ryken, Redeeming the Time: A Christian Approach to Work and Leisure (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker, 1995), 37.
2. Joanne Kaufman, “Being Busy,” in Allure (May 1997), 134–138.
3. Ryken, op. cit., 38.
4. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, tr. Ford Lewis Battles (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Westminster Press. 1960) III, X, 6; 724.
5. Foundations for Leadership (Burke, Virginia: The Trinity Forum, 5210 Lyngate Court, Suite B, Burke, Virginia 22015; 1991, 1993, 1994), 1–3.
6. Jeremiah Burroughs, The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment, (Carlisle, Pennsylvania: The Banner of Truth Trust; 1648, reprint 1964), 19.
7. Ryken, op. cit., 60.

My Journey Through The Church Growth Movement

By Phil A. Newton

A lady from our congregation recently traveled out of state for a wedding. During her involvement in the wedding festivities, she was seated at a table with a pastor who was in between churches. An interesting dialogue began to ensue.

This “in-between” pastor was a member of a noted Southern Baptist church whose pastor is considered to be one of the Convention’s finest preachers. His conversation went something like this:

“We have the most wonderful pastor! He really preaches the Word. He preaches against sin and even calls sin ‘sin’. We have a fast-growing church, with over 10,000 members.” 

“That’s interesting,” my friend replied, then asked, “Does he preach on doctrine?” 

The pastor looked a bit puzzled at her inquiry and quickly stated, “Oh no! He would never preach against other churches.” 

“Oh, that’s not what I mean!” this inquisitive lady responded. “By doctrine I am referring to regeneration, justification, redemption, sanctification and so forth. Does he preach on these subjects?” 

With a stunned look, this preacher said of his well-known pastor, “No, he doesn’t preach on those kinds of things.”

If growth strategists could take a tour around my denomination and point out the finest, growing churches, this one would be among the top of their list. Their pastor has preached at numerous denominational conferences, conventions, and rallies. His picture and name frequently appear in denominational publications, yet the sad assessment is that “No, he doesn’t preach on those kinds of things.”

How can we reconcile a growing church with doctrine-less preaching and still call it a New Testament church? This is precisely where I found myself several years ago.

While in my third pastorate, I grew despondent over the lack of sizable growth in my congregations. I had attended conferences and seminars that promoted growth, growth, growth as being the end-all for pastors. I had listened to the well-respected men in my denomination and often wished that my church could have the kind of growth they had experienced. Finally, my despondency led to action! After making radical changes in my own church organization, I started seeing our numbers rise. I was gratified and motivated to go after more growth. I’m not much for doing things half-way, so I thought that the best move I could make would be to study church growth at the “fountainhead,” Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, California.

My first two-week seminar in Fuller’s Doctor of Ministry program was under the leading spokesman for church growth, Dr. C. Peter Wagner. Wagner is a former missionary in South America who returned to his alma mater to teach with the late Dr. Donald McGavran. While McGavran, a former missionary to India, is known as the “father of the church growth movement,” Wagner certainly carries the title for the best-known proponent. I had already read several of Wagner’s books in preparation for this seminar, along with books by many others in the movement. I found Wagner to be an interesting and personable teacher, one who has the capacity of producing lively classroom discussions. Armed with overhead transparencies and a battery of notes, Wagner began to unfold to my class the basics of church growth.

I found myself hanging on to every word spoken in class, though at times I was uneasy with various assertions. Wagner never flinched when rebuffed in class over disagreements, though such disagreements seldom happened. He stated that he welcomed criticism and corrections for the teachings on church growth since that became one of the best tools for refining the movement.

I continued my studies at Fuller with a major emphasis on church growth and church planting. Twenty-four units out of my forty units of class time were devoted to studying church growth. While Peter Wagner taught most of the material related to church growth, there were other professors involved. Among them was John Wimber, founder of the Vineyard churches, who taught the controversial subject of “signs and wonders” and their relationship to church growth as part of the advanced level of church growth studies. I noticed in my first twelve-unit course on church growth that Wagner found great delight in quoting John Wimber, as well as telling interesting vignettes about the booming Vineyard Church. It was obvious that the Vineyard Church was considered a viable model of true church growth. I was interested in my second two-week course to hear what Wimber himself had to say about growth and the need for “signs and wonders” as foundational to such growth. By the time of my graduation, I was thoroughly steeped in “church growth thinking” and the broad range of the movement’s influence upon evangelicalism.

Much of what is taught in the church growth movement can be labeled under the heading of “common sense.” Perhaps there’s too much neglect of common sense in our day, so church growth proponents have reminded church leaders of a few basics that can help their churches. Details regarding church parking, building the right staff, location, maximizing use of facilities, training lay leadership, utilizing spiritual gifts, and diagnosing weaknesses can be readily found in church growth materials. Much of this common sense teaching will be extremely helpful to any church staff. Churches will be wise to avail themselves of it.

The church growth movement also provides a good analysis of the weakness of crusade evangelism and the greater effectiveness of one-on-one evangelism. Stress is laid on pursuing the “fields that are white unto harvest” in efforts to reach the lost and grow churches. A strong emphasis on “disciple making” over against merely “evangelizing” helps to correct the attitude of bloating church rolls with unconverted members. Statistics provided by church growth leaders can give a church staff a better grasp of the spiritual needs in our nation.

While I found some helpful ideas in studying church growth, I also found myself wrapped up in a “mentality” that proved costly. Building a church on “church growth principles” meant an adherence to pragmatism rather than biblical Christianity. Pragmatism can provide increased numbers, but it cannot regenerate unbelieving men. As a pragmatist, I was interested in discovering what methods and devices worked to produce growth and to fully employ them in my church. Though I have always held to the need for expository preaching, I found myself going light on exposition and heavy on appealing to the felt needs of the community. All of this was justified, or so I thought, because I was going to be growing a large church.

I recall visiting one night in a home of a theological student who had visited my church. He asked me what my theology was and I responded, “I have a pragmatic theology. I want a theology that works.” I was incensed later when a friend told me that he had spoken with this student who told him after my visit, “Phil doesn’t have a theology.” Unfortunately, he was right and it was showing up in the way I was doing ministry. Little by little I began to see these flaws in my own ministry and in the church growth movement as a whole.

At the heart of Wagner’s teaching and the church growth movement are principles related to evangelism. Wagner has admirably promoted the work of evangelism as being of utmost importance in the local church. Understanding what he means by evangelism, however, reveals some question marks concerning biblical evangelism. He categorizes evangelism as 1-P or Presence Evangelism, 2-P or Proclamation Evangelism, and 3-P or Persuasion Evangelism. Perhaps a brief explanation will be helpful.1

1. Presence Evangelism. A definition of evangelism for which the goal is perceived as getting next to people and helping them; doing good in the world; designated 1-P evangelism.
2. Proclamation Evangelism. A definition of evangelism for which the goal is perceived as presenting the gospel; the death and resurrection of Christ is communicated; people hear and can respond; designated 2-P evangelism.
3. Persuasion Evangelism. A definition of evangelism for which the goal is perceived as making disciples; stresses the importance of not separating evangelism and follow-up. The goal is incorporating people into the body of Christ. Designated 3-P evangelism.

Wagner points out that all three types of evangelism have their places, but the goal must be to carry out 3-P evangelism. Few would disagree with the fact that 1-P evangelism cannot adequately communicate the gospel to an unbeliever. But few would also deny that without the visible presence of those who have been animated by the gospel of Christ, all other evangelism would be stifled.

Perhaps the biggest problem comes in Wagner’s understanding of 2-P evangelism. According to his definition it appears to be little more than preaching or a verbal witness of the facts of the gospel. Then the unbeliever can make up his mind on whether the facts presented appear to be worthy of his deciding to embrace the gospel.

3-P evangelism becomes the focal point for church growth proponents. It does involve both presence and proclamation, but that is not enough. The evangelist must use every means at his disposal to persuade an unbeliever to turn from his sin and believe in Christ so that he becomes a disciple. In class lectures, Wagner capitalizes upon the Greek word peitho and its use in the book of Acts. He cites Acts 13:43; 17:4; 18:4; 26:28; and 28:23–24, where peitho is used as a reference to an evangelistic appeal. Wagner consistently portrays the word as meaning “to persuade.” Therefore, proper evangelism will be persuasion evangelism.

There are several problems with Wagner’s deduction from these passages in the book of Acts. First, it is generally unwise to build a theology upon a historical section of Scripture unless there are no didactic or instructional passages dealing with the subject. The New Testament abounds with passages referring to the work of evangelism. Most notable is Paul’s clear explanation of his method for evangelizing: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith; as it is written, ‘But the righteous man shall live by faith’” (Rom. 1:16–17). Paul declared that the gospel is adequate enough through the work of the Holy Spirit to bring a man to a saving knowledge of Christ. He continues in 1 Corinthians 2:4–5 to point out that he sought to proclaim the gospel in the power of the Holy Spirit rather than using all of the common mind-control techniques of the Greeks: “And my message and my preaching were not in persuasive [Greek, peitho] words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God.” The apostle also contends that Christians should so live out the reality of the gospel that they will “appear as lights in the world,” which is 1-P evangelism according to Wagner’s definition. On the heels of such a statement he then shows the appropriate method of evangelizing, “Holding forth the word of life,” which puts the believer in the position of presenting (i.e., “proclaiming”) the life-giving truth of God’s Word to unbelieving men (Phil. 1:15–16).

Second, Wagner’s use of peitho as the basis for persuasion evangelism is extremely weak. To limit the translation of such a word to one use shows a lack of understanding the breadth of the Greek language. While peitho can be translated “persuade” in numerous places, it also can best be translated by “urged,” “convinced,” “seduced,” “entreat,” and even “bribe” in other cases. The context determines the best translation of the word. Did Luke, the biblical writer in Acts, use peitho to refer to a certain type of persuasive methodology employed by Paul and other early disciples? Obviously, Luke would never want to use manipulation, trickery, or deceit in the work of evangelism (see the use of peitho in Acts 12:20; 14:19; and 19:26 where the ideas of “seduce” and “bribe” are conveyed in the Greek text of these verses). To do so would deny the need for the Holy Spirit’s work, which must be at the heart of any true evangelistic work (Rom. 8:9, 12–17; 1 Thess. 1:4–5). The New American Standard Bible rightly translates peitho in Acts 13:43 as “urging,” showing that Paul and Barnabas used the best reasoning powers and their passion for truth in exhorting the listeners to “continue in the grace of God.” In Acts 17:4, “persuaded” implies that the Thessalonians were “convinced” of the things which Paul and Silas had proclaimed.

Luke had already noted that they had “reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and giving evidence that the Christ had to suffer and rise again from the dead” (17:2–3). These descriptive words show a great intellectual interchange taking place, as the messengers utilized the proofs of Scripture, a series of questions and answers (“reasoned,” Greek dialegomai) and all of their reasoning powers to “convince” these people of the truth. They passionately presented the Word of God to these unbelieving people by appealing to their minds with the truth (see also Acts 18:4 and 28:23 where the use of peitho is most naturally translated as “to convince”).

Third, the idea of 3-P evangelism suggests that the 2-P evangelism of proclamation lacks persuasive power. The early disciples never stoically proclaimed the gospel! They were passionate about the truth that had transformed their lives. Their presentations of the gospel contained solid logic and reasoning. They appealed to the mind of unbelievers rather than trying to manipulate a “decision for Christ” by appealing first to the will or to the emotions. The Acts 17 passage demonstrates this conclusively, as does the whole narrative of the book of Acts. In the nineteenth century, Charles Haddon Spurgeon was noted as the supreme example of a true evangelist. The scope of his ministry spread broader than any other man of his day. Spurgeon would have been repulsed by manipulation or man-centered emotional methods in evangelism. Yet no one would ever accuse him of proclaiming the gospel without persuasion or passion. The gospel itself, rightly proclaimed, is persuasive! And such a gospel, when savingly believed due to the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit, produces true disciples.

Last, while I agree with Wagner that we must be persuasive in presenting the gospel, his emphasis puts undue confidence in the evangelist’s abilities to bring about conversions. Such confidence is foreign to the teaching of Scripture (see 1 Cor. 2:1–16).2 The apostle Paul was so overcome with a consciousness of divine judgment, that he stated, “Therefore knowing the fear of the Lord, we persuade men.” The natural sense of translation is that because Paul understood that sinners would stand before a just and holy God, he sought “to win men to Christ.” He looked for the lost, proclaimed passionately the gospel to them, but depended upon the power of the Holy Spirit to save. Those whom the Spirit of God saved would inevitably become a part of the visible body of Christ (see Acts 2:47). True evangelism seeks to proclaim clearly and passionately the whole gospel of Christ in dependence upon the Holy Spirit to save. Such evangelism will result in the work of incorporating new believers into the church. The disparity comes when the evangelist sees himself and his methods as the keys to the man’s salvation rather than the regenerating work of the Spirit.

Wagner bases his categories of evangelism on “The Engel Scale,” which is a “spiritual decision process model” developed by James Engel. The scale has a series of negative and positive numbers which chart the process of evangelism.

-8	Awareness of Supreme Being but no effective knowledge of the gospel
-7	Initial awareness of gospel
-6	Awareness of fundamentals of gospel
-5	Grasp of implications of gospel
-4	Positive attitude toward gospel
-3	Personal problem recognition
-2	Decision to act
-1	Repentance and faith in Christ
REGENERATION—A “NEW CREATURE”
+1	Post-decision evaluation
+2	Incorporation into body
+3	Conceptual and behavioral growth begins

The basic problem with the Engle Scale can be seen in the reversal of the biblical order of repentance and faith in Christ and regeneration—a “New Creature.” Following the logic of this chart one would assume that a sinner merely has to begin to grasp the fundamental implications of the gospel, recognize his “personal problem” (which is a kind way of implying “sin”), then make a decision to be saved. What Wagner assumes concerning regeneration implies that a sinner must not be totally depraved or dead in his trespasses and sins. Otherwise, regeneration would of necessity precede repentance and faith as is clearly taught in the numerous passages dealing with regeneration (note the following examples which refer to the act of regeneration: Titus 3:5, where the Greek paliggenesia means “a birth again,” “new birth”; Eph. 2:5 and Col. 2:13, where the Greek sunezoopoisen means “to make alive together with”; John 3:3, 5, where the Greek gennao means “to be born,” “to be begotten”; James 1:18, where the Greek apekuasen means “to give birth,” “to bear”). The whole premise is that the sinner is persuaded to make a decision to repent and believe; then he will be regenerated. It is the act of the sinner that thus causes his regeneration. The sinner has the capability to make a willful and appropriate choice concerning the gospel if he is under good 3-P or Persuasion evangelism. How does that sinner’s nature improve enough for him to repent and believe? If the sinner’s spiritual problem is the result of not only his sinful behavior but his depraved nature, then until his nature is changed he will not repent and believe; it would be against his nature to do so. Besides, how can a “dead man” make himself alive, which is what takes place in regeneration? This is especially clear in Ephesians 2:1–5 where Paul asserts twice that an unregenerate person is “dead.”

C.R. Vaughan helpfully explains the inability on man’s part to rise above his sinful nature and pursue holiness, repentance, and faith.

No stream can of itself ascend higher than its source; no nature can transcend itself in the manifestation of its energies, and if man is really dead in trespasses and sins, he can put forth no energy containing in it the element of real holiness, or true spiritual life. [3]

Yet in Wagner’s paradigm, the evangelist attempts to persuade a sinner to do something which he has no desire to do. His nature demands that he rebel against the gospel, rather than respond to it. Only by a regenerating act of the Holy Spirit does that sinner have a change of nature which causes him to see his separation from God due to his sin, then to grasp the work of Christ propitiating for him, so that gladly, he repents and believes in Christ. Just as in Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones, the sinner is dead to the things of God until animated by the life-giving Spirit in the new birth (compare John 3:1–7 with Ezek. 37 where “the Spirit” and “the breath” convey the same divine person and work).

In a discussion on the well-known Parable of the Sower (or Soils), Wagner does not follow the clear interpretation that the first three soils represent the Word sown upon unregenerate people who will not repent and believe unless regenerated by the Holy Spirit. Instead, he mentions the seed sown among the thorns and refers to this as a problem with the type of evangelism used. He stated in a lecture that the appropriate questions the evangelist must ask are, “Am I in the wrong place at the wrong time?” and “Am I in the right place but using the wrong methods?” The work of the Holy Spirit in regeneration gets pushed aside in favor of methods and timing.

Wagner points out that “responsible church membership,” or incorporation into the body of Christ, is the basic fruit that must be looked for to determine whether or not regeneration has occurred. Granted, if a person fails to show kinship with the body, the likelihood of his salvation being real is questionable. But “responsible church membership” can be carried out by pagans who have no love for personal holiness and truth! How can this statement be reconciled with the defining qualities of true conversion expressed in Romans 8:12–17, or those precious evidences of genuine salvation found in 1 John?

The church growth movement’s priority of 3-P evangelism shows that it believes that 2-P evangelism cannot get the job done. Proclamation evangelism merely opens a window to let the light of the gospel come in, so that an unbeliever may hear well but stops short of becoming a disciple. The evangelist must use the right kinds of methods, techniques, and approaches to truly make a disciple. He must appeal to the sinner’s felt needs so that he will be interested in the gospel. This is where the church growth movement brings out a broad array of principles and axioms which, if rightly applied, can almost guarantee results.

On the basis of this extremely Arminian view of evangelism, the church growth movement has thrived! Seminars, conferences, workshops, books, and modules with this type of approach have flooded the ranks of evangelical Christianity. Evangelicals of every stripe are using church growth principles to build greater numbers and larger churches. The proclamation of God’s Word no longer has central place in such churches. The teaching of sound doctrine is considered an unnecessary thing of the past. Instead, methods and grand productions become the draw for people to attend a church and decide to become members. While talk of the work of the Holy Spirit takes place, dependence upon the regenerating work of the Spirit is neglected.

Recently our local newspaper carried an Associated Press story about a church in Missouri that has “no pews, no ministerial vestments, no organ, no hymns, no Scripture readings and no chance this would be mistaken for a traditional Sunday service.” The church has a country-western band, sing-along lyrics, entertaining skits, and a market-driven approach to their ministry. This is characteristic of the felt-need, consumer-oriented pragmatism of the church growth movement. This is illustrated by a comment I heard that an unbeliever made after visiting a large Baptist church that has all of the high-tech accoutrements, “Hey, this is the best show in town!”

How can a pastor implement such principles if he believes in the doctrines of grace? I faced this question after coming to terms with the biblical theology of our founding Southern Baptist fathers. As I studied and preached expositionally through Ephesians, I found my whole concept of church growth shattered by the truth of God’s Word. As I dug into the first fourteen verses of the first chapter of Ephesians over a two-month period, I had to come to grips with some doctrine which I had carefully avoided for years. I had given much thought to the sovereignty of God and the depravity of man, believing these truths as much as I could understand them. But what I had failed to see was that if I did truly believe in the biblical teaching of God’s sovereignty and man’s total depravity, then the only logical conclusion to which I could come would be to embrace the balance of “the doctrines of grace” which Edwards, White-field, Spurgeon, Boyce, and others taught. Anything less than this conclusion pictured God as not-quite-sovereign and man as not-quite-depraved. So I faced the question: If conversion is wholly a work of God’s grace, then who am I to think that my techniques and methods can convert even one soul? I realized that the issue of my theology must dictate my practice in ministry or else I would be a hypocrite to both. I began to back off from most of what I had been taught in my years of church growth studies (the exception being primarily the “common sense” principles or those principles clearly spelled out in Scripture). I tried to concentrate on proclaiming God’s Word with clarity, purity, and passion, dealing with the doctrines encountered in each week’s text.

This radical “theological conversion” took place in the fall of 1990. I had two seminary degrees to my name to go along with my bachelor’s degree, but I would gladly have traded them, if need be, for the richness of spending fifteen months studying Ephesians. It was an education that somehow I had missed along the way. Every week of exegeting the Greek text, reading Martyn Lloyd-Jones, John MacArthur, Leon Morris, John Stott, and others brought me to a clearer understanding of the whole glorious message of redemption. I approached my preaching task with a renewed consciousness of preaching “the whole counsel of God.” I knew that everyone would not receive freely what I was preaching, but still I had the responsibility to patiently and clearly proclaim the Word and let the Holy Spirit do the needed work.

Did such a move meet with hearty approval with everyone in my congregation? Absolutely not! I did discover an openness in many who hungered for the truth of God to be proclaimed without apology or fear of man. Some have gone on into a wonderful liberty of walking in the truth of God. Others have battled against the Word, hanging on tenaciously to beliefs that have been prejudiced by experience and traditions.

I have found that moving away from church growth practices to exercise a ministry in the tradition of our Baptist fathers may not bring in the masses. In many cases it meets with opposition from those who have practiced responsible church membership. Yet, the passion which grips my mind and heart is that one day I must answer to the Sovereign Lord for how I carried out my calling. My observation is that too often pastors have their ministry dictated to them by the expectations of other ministers. The pressure placed upon ministers to grow large churches, bring in great numbers, and produce a multitude of conversions spurs many to imbibe virtually everything from the wells of the church growth movement. When this happens the minister will inevitably compromise his responsibility of preaching the Word and depending upon the work of the Holy Spirit. He will scurry from one technique to another, grappling for every new idea that comes from the proponents of church growth. What is the minister’s motive for all that he does? Is it truly for the glory of God and for the sake of God’s kingdom?

You may wonder, “Do you believe in church growth?” Sure I do! As long as that growth has been engendered by the work of the Holy Spirit and the faithful proclamation of the Word of God. If the Word and the Spirit cannot produce it, then I do not want it! Indeed, one day, I trust, our Lord will find pleasure in moving upon our congregation and community with mighty, awakening power. Then men will know that the salvation of sinners comes not through our shrewd techniques, nor by the implementation of church growth principles, but by the sovereign grace of an all-glorious Lord.

About the Author

Dr. Phillip Newton is senior pastor, South Woods Baptist Church, Memphis, Tennessee. This is his first contribution to Reformation & Revival Journal.

Notes

1. C. Peter Wagner, editor, with Win Arn and Elmer Towns, Church Growth: State of the Art (Wheaton: Tyndale House, 1988), 296–97.
2. Cf. Iain Murray’s excellent treatment of the subject in Revival and Revivalism (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, 1994), 161 ff.
3. C. R. Vaughan, The Gifts of the Holy Spirit (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, 1984), 175.

Baptism And The Unity Of Christians

By Tom Wells

Among the differences which divide Christians baptism looms very large. Unlike other doctrines and practices of the church our differences on baptism fall along a number of lines at once. We seem unable to agree on any of the following: (1) Mode of baptism. (2) Proper candidates for baptism. (3) Proper administrators for baptism. (4) Effects of baptism.

Most agree on only two things: baptism requires water, and baptism is appropriate at the outset (in some sense) of the Christian life. Apart from these marginal agreements the word “baptism” is a symbol without meaning—and this after 2000 years of use! Looked at in this way, “baptism” bears all the earmarks of a grand tragedy. No wonder a few groups have ignored it altogether.

Let’s look at these differences.

Mode Of Baptism

Three “modes” [1] of baptism have been widely used among Christians: immersion, pouring, and sprinkling. In immersion the candidate is dipped under water. Variations include dipping either forward or backward and immersing the candidate either once in the name of the Trinity or three times, once for each person of the Trinity. These variations are themselves the subject of vigorous debate among some groups of Christians. The reason is not hard to find: symbolism is involved. Each group reasonably contends that the symbol must agree, as far as possible, with the thing it signifies. The subject is further complicated by the possibility that baptism signifies more than one thing. Immersionists, for example, might contend for two meanings or more, including a thorough “drenching” with the Holy Spirit and the Christian’s joint burial and resurrection with Jesus Christ.

Symbolism, of course, also enters into pouring and sprinkling. Those who practice pouring water over the head and body of the candidate often want to show, by a figure, the effect of the outpouring of the Spirit on believers. Others practice trine pouring, symbolizing our coming under the lordship of the Trinity. Those who sprinkle may be most interested in demonstrating the effect of cleansing from sin, using a mode that was prominent in the Old Testament for the washing away of guilt. Those who practice each of these modes point to texts and situations in the New Testament which bolster their views. [2]

Proper Candidates For Baptism

We are also divided on this question. Baptists hold that only those who can testify to believing in Christ ought to be baptized. Other Christians baptize infants and very young children. This is an enormous difference in itself, and it is further complicated by a lack of agreement among those who baptize infants over the grounds on which this ought to be done. I will come to this in discussing “Effects of Baptism.”

Proper Administrators Of Baptism

The early church suffered several divisions in which the issue was the proper administrators for baptism. [3] In our century this question is still important among such groups as Landmark Baptists and Churches of Christ. In the case of the Landmarkers the point is that a proper church must immerse believers. In the Churches of Christ of the “non-additions” group, there is the conviction that other administrators will not require the proper views on baptism from the candidates.

Effects Of Baptism

Here we reach the most critical point connected with baptism: its actual effect on the candidate who is baptized. What precisely does baptism do? How is a man, woman or infant different before and after baptism, or are they different at all? The variations here are tremendously important.

When the Roman Catholic priest baptizes, he believes that both original and actual sin are forgiven through the merits of Christ. The Reformers varied among themselves, and their heirs continue to differ. Lutherans hold that faith is necessary in the one baptized, but also insist that there is no reason why infants cannot exercise faith. This view, then, seems close to the view of the Roman Catholic Church as far as effects are concerned. The Calvinists have usually emphasized baptism’s connection with what is called “covenant theology.” In this view a person is assured of his or her interest in “the covenant” when baptized. Baptism in the case of infants, however, is variously explained so that its effects differ as far as forgiveness of sins is concerned. Some of the Reformed hold to forgiveness because of presumed faith in the infants, while others simply make baptism the entrance into the visible congregation of “believers and their seed.”

Baptists do not usually think of baptism in terms of effects wrought in the believer. For them it is rather a badge of profession, showing the world that they have submitted to the lordship of Jesus Christ or, at the least, believed in Him as Savior.

The Way Forward

A glance at the differences over baptism show the large amount of work we must do to eventually arrive at unity. This will be no easy task.

First, we must overcome our lethargy. We must fight the impulse to say, “We are so seriously divided, why bother?” Division among Christians is a product of sin. The sin is not the fact that we cannot agree, but the cause behind it, what theologians call “the noetic effects of sin.” Sin has attacked our minds as well as our wills, our emotions and our bodies. In the face of sin we must throw down the gauntlet, not throw in the towel.

Second, we must seek to overcome our sinful pride. The conviction that we are right and others are wrong is, in itself, inevitable. If we seriously thought that our neighbor was right, our convictions would be his convictions and there would be no division between us. But satisfaction with our own convictions that paralyzes open-hearted discussion is wrong. We must re-examine our “certainties.” We can get nowhere as long as we cannot conceive that we may be wrong.

Third, we must try to break the questions over baptism into more basic questions of biblical interpretation and historical practice. When we survey the opinions that divide us, the effect of baptism certainly takes first place. But the key here is an obvious one: the realistic language of Scripture. New Testament texts which describe baptism normally speak of it as effecting some important spiritual change in or for those who are baptized. Through most of church history this language has been taken literally. Is that the correct way to take it? Does baptism bring with it the remission of sins (Acts 2:38)? Did Paul really “wash away” his sins in baptism (Acts 22:16)? Or are these statements of what baptism symbolizes?

Two things need to be said. To start with, we must treat Scripture (in this respect) like any other document; it must be allowed to speak for itself. This suggests that the burden of proof lies on those who find in this language a figurative sense. [4] Such men and women must make their case from the New Testament before they can expect others to listen. But that is not all. Once that case has been carefully laid out, others must listen as sympathetically as possible. Only then can genuine discussion go forward.

Fourth, we must come to a biblical view of the relative amount of weight to be given to the Old Testament and New Testament in our thinking. Here is the great stumbling block to agreement among Baptists and Presbyterians who are evangelicals. Here the burden of proof falls on those who find their baptismal doctrine in the Old Testament rather than the New Testament. And here Baptists must try to listen sympathetically to what their paedobaptist brothers have to say.

Fifth, we must seek to read history honestly, and not simply to bolster our own prejudices. History outside the Bible cannot determine our doctrine, but it can often show us the understanding of “the Fathers” who handled the Scriptures in the following centuries. We must not follow them slavishly, but their writings exist for our instruction.

Have We Made Any Progress?

As greatly as we are divided there are, here and there, signs that things are not so bad as they once were. Some of the evidence, slight though it is, follows.

In 1977 InterVarsity Press issued The Water that Divides, an irenic look at the baptism debate. [5] Here two participants, apparently co-authoring each chapter and section rather than writing alternately, discuss “Baptism & Scripture,” “Baptism & History” and “Baptism Today.” In the closing section they suggest ways for baptists and paedobaptists to work together, even in the local church setting. Whether through the influence of this book or not, a relatively few churches are trying to live with diverse views and practices about baptism. An example of such a church is Community Evangelical Fellowship of Moscow, Idaho. Douglas Wilson writes of his church:

We receive both baptistic and paedobaptistic households into membership. We practice both infant baptism and baptism upon profession of faith. We are able to do this because the membership of our church is reckoned by household, and because we all share a strong sense of the covenantal identity of each household, whether baptist or paedobaptist. 

As part of this cooperation agreement, we have stated the following in our constitution: “Because of our commitment to the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Eph. 4:3), and because of our shared commitment to the practice of household membership ... these differences have been procedurally resolved between us. We have agreed to work together in this way until such time as the Lord brings us to one mind on the subject of baptism. [6]

Several baptists have written books on baptism that adopt “covenant theology,” the justification for paedobaptism used by many presbyterians. [7] Nevertheless, they have not conceded much else to their opponents. More remarkable were the attacks on paedobaptism by Karl Barth from within a paedobaptist denomination.

From within paedobaptist ranks has come Baptism in the Early Church, an earnest endeavor to read the writers of the first four centuries objectively. The book of twenty-six chapters and a bibliography opens with a discussion of the use of church history by modern scholars and continues by discussing the church fathers through Theodore of Mopsuestia (350–428). It closes with a look at early Christian art and the authors’ conclusions. [8]

An interesting development, not initially intended to settle differences about baptism, has come in a recent (1998) joint venture between Reformed Baptists and Westminster Seminary in California (Westminster West) which enables baptist students to receive instruction out of their own tradition on matters where baptists and presbyterians differ. Both groups see this as an attempt at expressing Christian unity. The possibilities here for interaction between two differing traditions are promising.

Conclusions

It is easy to ask, “Why don’t we all get together?” It is much harder to accomplish. Baptism illustrates the problem, with no simple solutions in sight and few efforts being put forth to eliminate our differences. The large number of variations between us makes reconciling them seem like a daunting task. Before the age of the computer, mathematical problems existed that were so vast that they were left untouched. Baptism seems to present a similar dilemma.

Given the truth of God’s providence one might reason as follows:

If baptism were a question of central importance, as many think, surely the Lord would have led us to basic unity about it. This line of thought could be bolstered by noting that the discussion about baptism is a discussion about a ceremony and ceremonies are deeply de-emphasized in the New Testament. That fact is crystal clear when one compares the multitude of rites and ceremonies under the Mosaic economy with the very few commanded for Christians.

Already in the Old Testament, in fact, the prophets felt the large relative difference between ceremonial and moral precepts.

Thus says the Lord, “Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it; and you shall find rest to your souls. But they said, ‘We will not walk in it.’ ... But they said, ‘We will not listen.’... Your burnt offerings are not acceptable, And your sacrifices are not pleasing to me” (Jer. 6:16–20).

What is Yahweh’s point here? Those who ignore morality and godliness must stop their punctilious keeping of His ceremonies. But notice this: we cannot even imagine Him saying the opposite, “Away with your love for Me and your personal integrity, unless you carefully offer your sacrifices!” Weren’t the sacrifices important? Of course, they were, but compared to godliness in the heart they were nothing. God Himself had instituted them, but as important as they were, they were not to be compared with spiritual life.

So then, is baptism relatively unimportant? As attractive as this option is, many strongly deny it. They remind us that there is more than a hint of a relation between circumcision and baptism in the New Testament. (The extent of that relation is one of the things strongly contested, but few deny it outright.) And they insist that whatever was true of burnt offerings and sacrifices under the Old Testament, those who refused circumcision were cut off from God’s ancient people (Gen. 17:10–14). The same, they tell us, goes for baptism today.

So the differences remain. Is it too much to suggest that those who feel most strongly about these differences are most obliged to seek their resolution? Surely the Lord would be pleased to see us pray for heartfelt reconciliation. Who knows but what He will have mercy on us and bless us?

Perhaps some day a writer of historical theology will write A History of the Dialogue on Baptism. Let us hope and pray that the day he sets pen to paper will not be too far away.

About the Author

Rev. Tom Wells is one of the pastors of The King’s Chapel, West Chester, Ohio. He is the author of numerous books, including Come To Me, Come Home Forever, God is King, Christian: Take Heart, A Price for a People, A Vision for Missions, and Faith: The Gift of God. He is a frequent contributor to Reformation & Revival Journal.

Notes

1. I have placed “modes” in quotation marks because of the widespread view, often insisted upon by Baptists and supported by others, that the word “baptism” itself describes mode by literally meaning “dipping” or “immersion.” In this view the phrase “mode of baptism” means “mode of immersion” and, hence, is redundant.
2. Immersionists, in addition to holding that “baptism” and “immersion” are synonyms, cite texts like Acts 8:38–39 and Romans 6:4–5. Those who pour cite Acts 1:5 with 2:33 and 10:44–45. Those who sprinkle emphasize texts in which cleansing is prominent, e.g., Acts 22:16 and Titus 3:5 as well as the situation at Pentecost in which they see the unlikelihood of so many being immersed in a short time.
3. See standard reference works under Novatians and Donatists.
4. This, of course, is an oversimplification in the interests of not discussing biblical interpretation in a short article. “Figurative sense” is the obvious sense in many contexts and, hence, requires no “burden of proof.”
5. Donald Bridge and David Phypers, The Water that Divides (Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity, 1977). Reprinted by Christian Focus Publications, 1998.
6. Douglas Wilson, To a Thousand Generations (Moscow, Idaho: Canon Press, 1996), 5. The book shows beyond doubt that Wilson himself is a dedicated paedobaptist, but in his congregation he has sought to accommodate the feelings and convictions of others.
7. E.g., P. K. Jewett, Infant Baptism and the Covenant of Grace (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1978).
8. H. F Stander & J. P. Louw, Baptism in the Early Church (Garsfontein, South Africa: Didaskalia, 1988). At the time of publication, the authors were professors in the University of Pretoria, South Africa.