Heresies Real and Imaginary

By P. Andrew Sandlin

Recently received an e-mail message from a conservative Presbyterian pastor on the East Coast charging me with “rank heresy” because I had written an essay on Razormouth [1] calling for greater celebration in the Lord’s Day meeting, arguing that God’s love and justice are equally ultimate in his Being, repudiating the idea of a “covenant of works,” and chiding certain Christians for not loving one another enough (My critic’s letter seemed to verify my last point!). I wasn’t sure whether my response should be amusement or annoyance (maybe both). I’ve given years of my life to defending the historic Christian Faith, [2] and “heresy” is one charge of which I never thought I’d be the object.

The word translated “heresy” or “heresies” in the New Testament of the King James Version means a “private, unauthorized character of a [religious] school or party.” [3] It is sometimes translated “sect.” It denotes a party spirit and implies schism within, or separation from, the larger legitimate body. The Bible predicts heresies within the church (1 Corinthians 11:19), but it boldly condemns them (Galatians 5:20; 2 Peter 2:1) .

In the patristic church, heresy came to mean the deviant teachings that contributed to this sinful schism. Gnosticism, Arianism and Monophysitism were all early heresies that the ecumenical creeds (like the Apostles’, Nicene, Athanasian, and Chalcedonian) were written partly to refute. Heresy had—and has—a rather precise historical meaning: any teaching contrary to the core received tradition of the Church, outlined in those early creeds. It also was thought to have a rather precise eternal consequence: hell (if you don’t believe this, read the Athanasian Creed!). Orthodoxy, or “right belief,” is heresy’s opposite. [4] Christianity demands certain beliefs; it is not just a “lifestyle”; you can go to hell if you don’t believe certain things (or if you do believe certain false ones). This is why charges of heresy, and not only heresies themselves, are so serious.

Charges of Heresy

This spring an orthodox Presbyterian minister, a godly and faithful and knowledgeable man, mounted his pulpit to accuse with heresy Steve Schlissel, Steve Wilkins, Douglas Wilson, and other pastors who were publicly trying to arrive at a consistent understanding and practice of the biblical doctrine of the covenant. He specifically labeled them “heretics” and “betrayers of the Reformation.” Oddly, in his widely distributed audiotape of the sermon, he did not appeal to any objective historical criterion by which these men should be considered heretical.

But there can be no heresy if there is no objective meaning for it. In historic orthodoxy, spelled out in the ecumenical creeds, we have a criterion of orthodoxy—and therefore, by implication, of heresy. Heresy is what deviates from orthodoxy, and orthodoxy is found in the early ecumenical creeds. Heresy is not a matter of mere personal disagreement—however vigorous that disagreement.

To argue that folks are heretics because they disagree with us (or our church) is simply to express an opinion—and often a rather arrogant one at that. Heresy is a matter for the Church—not a few individuals, even smart ones—to decide (Titus 3:9–10; cf. Matthew 18:15–19). The fact that we dispute someone’s views, even quite fervently, does not warrant our labeling them heretical.

The church has always embraced what Thomas Sowell, in another context terms the “constrained vision.” [5] Knowledge is not something that springs mainly from the minds of a few bright people; rather, it is widely disbursed in the minds and hearts of Christians today, and from our knowledge of what was in the minds and hearts of those who have died in the Lord—in the words of the patristic Church: that which is believed “everywhere, always, by all.” [6] One Christian, even a very intelligent or devout or zealous one, does not possess the ability (or warrant) to label another a heretic. The Church, with its wide consensus, does possess this ability and warrant. The universal Church (and not merely one segment of it, much less one denomination or a local church) is the earthly operational gatekeeper of orthodoxy and heresy; it has responsibility for men’s souls.

The Bible and Heresy

What about the Bible? Is it not ultimately authoritative in determining heresy? Indeed, it is. The critic mentioned above did quote from the Bible to buttress his charges, but we should recall that quoting the Bible will not by itself solve the issue of heresy: the Arians (like today’s Jehovah’s Witnesses) were fond of quoting many Bible verses to prove their view that Jesus is not equal to God. [7] Orthodoxy is necessary precisely because heretics appeal to the Bible, not because they do not appeal to it. The Bible (not the Church) is the source of its own interpretation, [8] but that interpretation must be visibly and publicly recognized in ecclesiastical consensus—or else one man’s orthodoxy is another ‘s heresy. Otherwise, we’d all end up anathematizing everybody who disagrees with us. (Come to think of it, this is just what some Christians do!)

This is not to say that one should not appeal to the Bible in proving charges of heresy, only that such appeal is not sufficient if it does not account for how the vast majority of Christians historically have interpreted it. This is why Charles Hodge can state, “[F]or an individual Christian to dissent from the faith of the universal Church (i.e., the body of true believers), is tantamount to dissenting from the Scriptures themselves.” [9] To dissent from the orthodox interpretation of the Bible, he is asserting, is to dissent from the Bible itself, because orthodoxy summarizes the central Biblical Faith.

Heresy implies an accepted interpretation of the Bible by the Church—orthodoxy, in other words. Teachings outside the bounds of this orthodoxy are treated as heretical. To say something else is heretical is to create a new orthodoxy unapproved by the Church. The Church does not have a right to determine orthodox doctrine, but it does have a right to recognize it—just as it does not have a right to determine the biblical canon, but it does have a right to recognize it. Doctrines not delineated as central to orthodoxy may be important, but dissenting from them does not make one a heretic.

Examples: Christians who deny consubstantiation may not be Lutherans, but they are not heretics, either. If a woman repudiates predestination, she is no Calvinist, but neither is she a heretic. To disallow all baptism except adult baptism by immersion sets one outside the bounds of the Reformed faith, but not outside the bounds of the Christian faith. To embrace the present validity of all the spiritual gifts of the New Testament may be very wrong, but it is not heretical.

This is another way of saying that some doctrines, though important, are not central to the Faith.

“Heresy Inflation”

A grave problem with playing fast and loose regarding charges of heresy is that it dilutes real heresy in the comparison. Most of us have heard of the controversial Bishop John Shelby Spong (Episcopal), who denies the resurrection of Christ—and much else of the Christian faith. From the standpoint of historic Christianity, he is objectively a heretic. If we classify with him those whose views we oppose strongly but who stand within the Christian faith, we mitigate the evil of Spong’s heresy. (A good friend calls this “heresy inflation.”)

In short, if Schlissel is a heretic, Spong may not be so bad after all.

Doctrines that constitute denominational distinctives, like certain ones in Reformation churches, are not, properly speaking, issues of heresy or orthodoxy. Take “monergism” in soteriology, for instance. Reformation churches believe that God alone saves sinners, and that men do not cooperate with God in salvation. This is, and always has been, a minority view in the universal Church; [10] but this should not unduly alarm Protestants, because, despite its importance, it is not an issue touching Christian orthodoxy. In short, you can be an Arminian and still be an orthodox Christian, albeit a badly mistaken one! Protestants are (on this point) in a distinct minority in our position, but that does not mean we are heretical. However, it also means that for a Protestant (or other) church or denomination to elevate its own distinctives (like this one) to the status of Christian orthodoxy and anathematize all who disagree is to impose on the Church an alien definition of orthodoxy—and heresy. This is perhaps almost as bad as the opposite error—widening the bounds of orthodoxy to include those (like Spong) who deny the faith. Heresy inflation and deflation are perhaps equally serious errors.

The Health of Creativity

None of this is to say that theological “creativity” is always a bad thing. Let us recall that had our patristic fathers not speculated, we would never have had (humanly speaking) the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity. [11] Had Luther not creatively probed, we would never have had the Protestant idea of justification, which to that time had never been held by any Christian anywhere. [12] Creative theologizing as patient, prayerful reflection on the Bible in light of new issues is a good thing—if it’s kept within the bounds of Christian orthodoxy. [13]

Preterism is a good example. Jay Adams, Gary DeMar and Ken Gentry are partial preterists—they hold that many (but not all) prophecies pertaining to Christ’s Second Coming were fulfilled in the destruction of Jerusalem in A.D. 70. They do hold to the orthodox view of Christ’s future physical coming. But “consistent” preterists deny this vital doctrine—they are heretics, because they disavow (and usually expressly so) certain doctrines at the core of Christian belief.

Two Vital Components

In considering all of this, we must recognize two vital components of the Church: unity and purity. Orthodoxy tends beautifully to preserve both. It says, “Within my bounds, there is room for wide disagreement and speculation, while the saints maintain mutual love and respect.” But orthodoxy equally says, “Outside my bounds, there can be no objective, historical Christianity.” When we lose orthodoxy, we lose the purity of the Church. When we invent new orthodoxies, we lose the unity of the Church. Ironically, by threatening the unity of the Church, those who falsely cry “heresy” come very close to committing heresy as understood in the Bible—creating a new sect in isolation from the Church.

Let’s level our theological guns at real, not imaginary, heretics.

Author

P. Andrew Sandlin, an ordained minister, is president of the Center for Cultural Leadership, a Christian educational foundation dedicated to reclaiming contemporary culture for Jesus Christ. An interdisciplinary scholar, he holds academic degrees or concentrations in English, English literature, history, and political science. He has written several monographs and books, including The Full Gospel: A Biblical Vocabulary of Salvation and Totalism, and hundreds of essays and articles, both scholarly and popular. He is a contributing editor for Reformation & Revival Journal. Andrew and his wife, Sharon, have five children and live in Coulterville, California. He can be reached at sandlin@christianculture.com.

Notes

1. At http://www.razormouth.com/cgilocal/npublisher/viewnews.cgicategory=all&id=1018256218
2. Andrew Sandlin, editor, Keeping Our Sacred Trust (Vallecito, California: Chalcedon Foundation, 1999).
3. G. Nordholt, "Elect, Choose," in The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology edited by Colin Brown (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1975, 1986), 1:535.
4. Harold O. J. Brown, Heresies (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1984).
5. Thomas Sowell, A Conflict of Visions (New York: William Morrow, 1987).
6. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600) (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1971),333.
7. Pelikan, Emergence of the Catholic Tradition, 191-200.
8. Gerhard Ebeling, '''Sola Scriptura and Tradition," The Word of God and Tradition (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1964), 127.
9. Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1981), 1:184.
10. Louis Berkhof, The History of Christian Doctrines (Edinburgh: Banner or Truth [1937], 1969),203-24.
11. G. L. Prestige, God in Patristic Thought (London: SPCK [1936], 1952).
12. Alister E. McGrath, Inustitia Dei: A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification—The Beginnings to the Reformation (Cambridge: The University Press, 1986), 186-87.
13. I agree here with James Orr: "The history of dogma criticizes dogma; corrects mistakes, eliminates temporary elements, supplements defects; incorporates the gains of the past, at the same time that it opens up wider horizons for the future. But its clock never goes back. It never returns upon itself to take up as part of its creed what it has formally, and With full consciousness, rejected at some bygone stage," Progress of Dogma (Old Tappan, New Jersey: Fleming H. Revell, n.d.), 17. N. T. Wright captures this idea quite well: "For me orthodoxy is like doing higher mathematics. It is continually discovering new ways to move forward, while still holding to the accepted affirmations which are themselves central," "Interview with N. T. Wright [Part 1]." (Reformation and Revival Journal, Vol. 11, No.1 [Winter 2002],119 (emphasis supplied). 

Christian Orthodoxy: A Layman’s Perspective

By C. H. McGowen, M.D.

Francis Schaeffer once wrote, “There is nothing so ugly as a Christian Orthodoxy without understanding and without compassion.” No one would doubt Shaeffer’s allegiance to the doctrines of the Reformed faith and yet his caveat gives me pause when I reflect upon my own dogmatism and zealous teaching in the past, based upon some very strong convictions in matters of election, effectual calling, and eternal security. The “pause,” however, in no way alters my convictions but merely the manner in which I now present them.

I shall first discuss my earliest introduction to “correct [ortho] opinion [doxa] “and then consider the ugliness that I have found being reflected by some members of the Body of Christ. Next I will proceed to a discussion of our Lord’s call for compassion among the flock in our dealings with other sheep and finally conclude with some thoughts of my own.

Orthodoxy and Understanding

I was never a stranger to the Church, at least not in body. For as long as I can remember, my “tent” (2 Corinthians 5:1) was found in some pew or other on the Lord’s Day. I was catechized and baptized at the age of twelve. I sang in the choir, attended, and later taught, Sunday school and even rose to the elected position of elder. Thus for the first thirty-four years of my life I appeared to be, and was in fact, a member of the visible Church. My life was however, within my sin-darkened soul, a profound contradiction. I was what you might call a “practical atheist”; I believed in God but lived as though he didn’t exist.

That all changed on June 28, 1970, when through a series of temporally misfortunate, yet eternally fortunate circumstances I was born again; that is, our God who is rich in mercy made me alive when I was dead in my trespasses and sins (Ephesians 2:4–5). He made his light shine into my sin-darkened soul so that I could “see” (John 3:3) and have the “knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:6).

From the very moment of my new birth the Lord placed within my heart and mind an intense desire to study and diligently search the Scriptures so that I might “understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God” (Proverbs 2:5). That deep passion for truth has continued unabated to this day, and has found a satisfying and comfortable home in the doctrines of Reformed theology.

When I first had my Damascus Road experience, it was considered by many as an unbelievable phenomenon. The news of it began to spread within my hometown, then the county, the state, and beyond. As a result of this miraculous conversion I was asked to tell my faith-story over and over again in every imaginable setting. I was never ashamed to testify about my Lord or to tell of my conversion experience. I appeared in the pulpits of Reformed, Arminian, Holiness, Pentecostal, Regular and General Baptist, various mainline liberal, inner city Black and Roman Catholic churches. I found myself at the gatherings of the recently converted Hippie culture in cow barns where I taught the Word from a “pulpit” made out of a straw bail turned on end, in high school auditoriums and in countryside parks and conference grounds. I was on the speaker’s bureau for Christian Business Men’s Committee, Full Gospel Businessmen’s Association, and Christian Women’s Clubs. I spoke at friendly meetings of Campus Crusade for Christ, Campus Life, the Fellowship of Christian Athletes and InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. I appeared on the 700 Club (three times) and the PTL Club (two times). I gave witness on local and national radio programs. In other words I fellowshiped and talked with members of Christ’s invisible Church wherever his Spirit called me to testify. I saw the diversity of worship style and his worshipers; the uniqueness of the redeemed who have called upon the name of the Lord and have been saved (Romans 10:13).

One overriding and obvious fact came through on each of those wonderful occasions. Wherever I spoke there were always true believers present with whom I shared a kindred spirit. They may have preferred to express their worship of our Triune God differently than I do, but their common goal was much the same as is yours and mine—to worship, obey and love him with body, mind and spirit.

From the very beginning my exposure to biblical teaching was orthodox as I was originally saved through the instrumentality and willingness of a Reformed Presbyterian pastor. This man of God, in the spirit and trembling of Saul’s Ananias, was willing to take on this arrogant, reprobate doctor of medicine under the leading and by way of the regenerating power of the Holy Spirit. It was he who would ultimately enable me to discover my spiritual gift of teaching and who encouraged me to put it into practice. Since that time, in the spirit of the Berean I have been diligent to search out the Scriptures daily to see if what I was being taught was really true (Acts 17:11). For me, those really true things are found within the teachings, the creeds and the confessions of Reformed theology.

Having said all of that, I would now like to move on to one layman’s perspective of the “ugliness” that I have observed within the Church; some of it having reflected back at me as I have looked intently into the mirror of the Word and have seen the ugly nature of my own face (James 1:23–24) when dealing with those of different theological persuasions.

Ugly Ducklings in the Church

When Jesus told his followers to be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16), he did not intend for us to be venomous vipers inflicting backbites and springing forth attacking one another in the spirit of self defense. After all, our initial introduction to a serpent (Genesis 3:1) was accompanied by the explanation that it was the craftiest of all God’s creatures and, oh, what harm that viper inflicted upon the whole of humanity. Instead of being peacemaking doves we all too often appear to the outsider as ugly ducklings.

My primary encounter with the mindset and ugliness of separatism and legalism occurred in the very church where I had been nurtured as an embryonic believer. Five years following my miraculous awakening to the Truth, I found myself earnestly involved in an area-wide Crusade of the Billy Graham Evangelical Association (BGEA), with Leighton Ford as the itinerant evangelist. For one year prior to the actual crusade, preparations were made under the guidance of an advance team that had been dispatched to our town by the BGEA.

I was honored to be designated as the chairman of the Operation Andrew committee. Our responsibility was to encourage the cooperation and participation of local churches, both evangelical and mainline, in the valiant efforts of the crusade officials to attract attendees. I appeared in many pulpits of varying denominations during the year preceding the coming of Leighton Ford to the Mahoning Valley; a region in the midst of a gradually dwindling steel manufacturing industry of northeast Ohio. In each of those congregations I received a warm welcome.

The ugly experience came during a meeting of the session of my local Reformed Presbyterian church. I was one of six elders, including the pastor, who met to discuss our involvement in the forthcoming crusade. The meeting became one of heated debate; one against five. I was told in no uncertain terms that the BGEA was not in accord with our Reformed doctrines. Furthermore, even more inappropriate was the invitation to the local Roman Catholic bishop to sit on the platform with Dr. Ford on a particular evening. This was totally unacceptable and indicated an “apostate” spirit that our congregation should avoid. The vote was obviously five-to-one to disassociate our church with the crusade. My response was to disassociate my family from that congregation and find another more peace-loving environment in which to serve and worship our God. As an aside, I now know several members of the elect of God who were brought to saving faith on that particular evening having attended specifically because their bishop had encouraged them to come.

Since those early days I have seen, and sadly and ashamedly been a party to, the backbiting and bickering over doctrinal issues that continue today in our “one holy catholic Church.” I have seen churches split and the flock scattered over issues that bear no resemblance whatsoever to anything that could be regarded as having any eternal consequence. I have noticed and been the recipient of legalistic attacks and restrictions that make the designation “fundamentalist” become a pejorative adjective rather than an appellation of which I am proud.

I am both a fundamentalist, in the sense of J. Gresham Machen’s original definition (i.e., biblical fundamentals), and as Reformed in my faith as Augustine, Spurgeon, and Calvin; and those two identifying marks are quite evident to all who know me. However, when I am remembered for my stand for true-truth I also want to be recalled as having possessed a serpentine wisdom and as being a dove-like peacemaker. I would hope that I am not viewed as an ugly ducking in the continuing fellowship of believers.

Without understanding and Compassion

The apostle Peter, a once ferocious and impetuous leopard who had obviously changed his “spots,” instructed us as follows: “In your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15, emphasis mine). Peter had obviously learned a vital lesson from his Lord, for in his former life Peter had been neither gentle nor respectful when dealing with the opposition (John 18:10). If we, in the spirit of the old Peter, use the “sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God” (Ephesians 6:17) to cut off the spiritual ears of those who ask us questions, they will remain deaf to the truth. If we amputate their spiritual hearing devices by way of our mean spiritedness, dogmatic attitudes, and disrespect, they will never hear us, and having not heard they will not believe.

Too often our concerted efforts to be proven right are viewed by others as attempts to appear self-righteous. We are seen as argumentative troublemakers, not peacemakers. We desire to be viewed as wise by the unlearned but often produce the opposite opinion. In our attempts to bring people to a saving knowledge of Christ we trample the “field white unto harvest” like a herd of raging bulls. The words of James are instructive on this point: “The wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit. Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness” (James 3:17–18, emphasis mine).

When the smoke has cleared from the battlefields of our uncivil wars, and the spectators (Hebrews 12:1) up on the hills are viewing the spiritually dead bodies strewn over the theological terrain of doctrinal conquest, one has to wonder what they are thinking of all this combat? We are supposed to be putting on the full armor of God to do battle with the enemy of our souls (Ephesians 6:10–18) not to engage each other in a contest over orthodoxy.

We need to be respectful of those whose spiritual upbringing has either been vacant, vacuous, or vile. When a person has been trained in a culture or religious environment diametrically opposed to ours it is an onerous and challenging task to bring them into line with the absolute truth of God’s Word. It takes patience, persistence, tenacity, and much prayer to help them climb out of their pit of deception into the light of God’s love.

The fruit of the Spirit is, among other manifestations, “love, patience, kindness, gentleness and self control.” I fail to see these displayed in many of the inter-relationships of believers today. Whether it is over the issue of Arminianism vs. Reformed theology (AKA five-point Calvinism), the chaos within the charismatic movement, the issues raised over the ECT (Evangelicals and Catholics Together) debates, the most recent flap over the TNIV Bible translation, or style of worship—those five aspects of spiritual fruit are not remotely evident.

The apostle Paul has urged all believers to “do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:3–4). Then Paul says, “Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5). What was Jesus’ attitude? Here are just a few of his admonitions:

• “A new commandment I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13:34). There is much to be learned within the whole body of Christ about this “new commandment.” Our love is all too often conditioned on total capitulation.
• “How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:4). Jesus had much to say about judgmental attitudes and this passage represents one of the less caustic. He is the Judge of all the earth, and he has called us to be fruitful, not fruit inspectors.
• “You nullify the Word of God for the sake of your tradition” (Matthew 15:6). There are many “do nots” within the various Christian fellowships that have more to do with local church or denominational tradition than biblical imperatives. Most legalism is more of a traditional than a theological nature; more of a personal persuasion than a biblical imperative.
• “Whoever is not against you is for you” (Luke 9:50). Commenting on this passage Matthew Henry said, “We need not lose any of our friends, while we have so few, and so many enemies. Those may be faithful followers of Christ, and as such, may be accepted by him, though they do not follow with us.” Jesus said, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first” (John 15:18). He never intended that we as members of his flock should express hatred toward each other. As we approach the return of Christ our friends will be fewer in number and we had better hold tightly to the ones we have.
• “May they be brought into complete unity that the world may know that you have sent me” (John 17:23). This intercessory prayer was offered on the night before Jesus would consummate his earthly mission by dying on the cross of Calvary for the sins of his sheep. Our agreement, our unity, our singleness of purpose and our oneness as a body of believers was foremost in his mind and high on the agenda of his priestly role. When he uttered one of those seven last statements, “Father forgive them for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34), I wonder if he also had the post-Reformation Church in mind and the numerous schisms that have eventuated since Luther first nailed his ninety-nine theses to that Wittenberg door. As long as we continue to argue over the less crucial doctrinal issues, the final apologetic, our unity “that the world may know” will never be adequately articulated.

There have been many great men of God who have not necessarily strictly, or even closely, followed the sound biblical dictates of the Reformed faith but who in spite of that have contributed greatly to the Kingdom of God. I think of that great and brilliant Roman Catholic apologist, the late G. K. Chesterton who wrote his own testimony and titled it, Orthodoxy, in spite of the fact that he was undoubtedly an Arminian. If anyone doubts the genuine nature of this man’s faith in Christ might I suggest that he read both of the following books? Orthodoxy (Harold Shaw Publishers: Wheaton, Illinois, 1994) and The Prophet of Orthodoxy (Fount Paperbacks: Harper Collins, 1997). Chesterton was truly skilled in the art of verbal expression. When discussing the topic of “Minimal errors of reasoning,” or in the context of his essay “Correct Opinion,” he penned this profound thought: “If a line be not perfectly directed toward a point, it will actually move further away as it moves closer to it.”

I also recall that one of the most profound and prolific Anglican thinkers of the early twentieth century, C. S. Lewis, was also at the very least a semi-Pelagian. Who in our day has drawn the attention of the reflective thinker more frequently and consistently than this fine English professor? Many a skeptic has been brought to the foot of the cross through the soundness of Lewis’ cerebral and spiritual convictions as presented in Mere Christianity.

Finally, who would question the dedication to the cause of Christ and to servanthood of Dr. Billy Graham, in spite of his Finneyite methods? What person in our time has touched the lives and hearts of as many world leaders and dignitaries for Christ as has this man? Who among us has discussed Christ with the likes of Winston Churchill or Dwight David Eisenhower? I had never considered the impact that this twentieth-century evangelist has had until I read his autobiography, Just as I Am.

None of these great persons would be considered totally orthodox by the standards set by the Reformed five-point Calvinists of our number. But what do you suppose God thinks of their contributions to his overriding plan and purpose; the winning of the predestined, foreknown elect into his sheepfold?

Conclusion

There is within the many surgical subspecialties that which is called orthopedics. That word has somewhat lost its original meaning, which was literally to correct or straighten (orthos). the bones or deformities of a child (paidos). That specialty initially dealt with the clubbed foot and other congenital twisted skeletal maladies. In straightening out these aberrations the orthopedic surgeon routinely applied braces, which, worn at night, gradually brought the bent part back into conformity with the more normal position. This had to be done with great care and patience so as not to inflict pain in the process of correcting the child’s deformity. The same reasoning applies to the straightening of teeth with the aide of braces by an orthodontist.

Most Christians in our day do not hold to the orthodox beliefs of the first-century church ala Paul, the fourth-century church ala Augustine or the sixteenth-century church ala Luther and Calvin. Thus we teachers of the Word who are in sympathy with these great reformers have a job to do in “straightening out” the twisted theology of our twenty-first-century brothers and sisters. But like the orthopedist and the orthodontist we must be patient and caring, loving and kind, gentle and respectful when applying the braces of truth or we will inflict great pain and distress; so great a pain that they might even run from the Great Physician who wants to bring total healing to their troubled and misled souls. I know of people who actually avoided the care of a physician for years because of a bad experience that they had in a pediatrician’s office as a child. If babes in Christ raised in non-orthodox Christian fellowships are exposed to abrupt methods of correction where their twisted theology is concerned we may lose the chance to realign their disjointed view of Christianity. We should therefore heed the admonition of Peter to do this delicate task of orthos with gentleness and respect.

As a reminder to myself to be patient, kind, gentle, and respectful of others in my Bible classes, I have placed the following quotation, which is prudent advice for all who instruct others in the Word of God, in the front fly-leaf of my Bible: “We do not attain heaven by scoring one-hundred percent in theology. If every person who was muddle-headed in one or another area of truth was thereby deprived of heaven, that place would be very confined.”

I am not certain of the identity of the author of that sage counsel, but I am certain that he would agree that when it comes to pleasing the ears of God we should be more concerned with doxology than with orthodoxy and that, “to obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams” (1 Samuel 15:22). We must obey the new commandment, “Love one another as I have loved you.”

Make no mistake about it—orthodoxy is just as necessary to Christianity as orthopedics is to medicine and orthodontics is to dentistry. But Christian teachers must learn something from the physicians and dentists about the process of straightening the twists so that the corrections will have a beautiful outcome without the infliction of undue pain. Soli Deo Gloria

Author

Dr. Charles McGowen is a member of the Board of Counsel for Reformation & Revival Ministries, is a board certified internist and Assistant Professor of Medicine at Northeastern Ohio Universities College of Medicine. This is his second contribution to Reformation & Revival Journal. He lives in Warren Ohio with his wife Kay and can be reached by e-mail at: CHMRETDOC@aol.com.

How Orthodoxy Includes Practice

By Tom Wells

The word orthodoxy has an uninviting look, but it is a perfectly good word. It means right teaching, the kind of teaching you get in any field when you consult the best authorities. To say that someone is orthodox is to say that he holds and teaches the things that are considered correct in the subject he teaches. That is the kind of teacher and teaching that, presumably, we all want to have.

Like every definition, orthodoxy or right teaching raises questions, especially the question: “In whose opinion is the teaching right?” Or put another way, “What standard must we use to know that this person is accurate in what he or she teaches? Can we rest on his opinion of his own accuracy? Is he the standard?” In the eighteenth century Bishop William Warburton said to Lord Sandwich, “Orthodoxy is my doxy; heterodoxy is another man’s doxy.” [1] Was he serious?—probably not. Was Lord Sandwich naive enough to believe him? I doubt it.

For the Christian, however, the question of orthodox teaching is settled by using a God-given standard, the Bible, God’s own Word. Orthodoxy is everything that conforms to the truth in the Scriptures.

I think most Christians, including myself, tend to hear the word orthodoxy in a more restricted way, however. We tend to hear and use the word only in reference to theology or doctrine.

In our practice, the way we live, we often draw a contrast with doctrine. This is, of course, in keeping with the English usage of these two words. But we must be careful that in our own minds we do not divorce these two. The Christian faith includes the way we live as well as what we believe.

This truth did not come home to me with power for many years. It took preaching through the book of Jude to show me that I had gone astray in this matter. Let me tell you how that came about.

One of the best known verses in Jude tells us “to contend for the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints” (v. 3). Having grown up in fundamentalism I suppose I heard that verse quoted umpteen times in the battle against modernism. And each time I am sure I heard it say something like this: “Don’t let them get away with attacking the deity of Christ, the inspiration of the Bible, and the doctrinal truths we all love!” Oddly enough, when heard in that way it was, in fact, good advice. So when I came to expounding Jude for my people I assumed that I would find that very theme in the rest of the book. In that I was mistaken.

Jude is indeed about combating false teachers. But much to my surprise I found that the thing that interests him in his small book is the teaching about the way a Christian ought to live. To put it in simplest terms, the faith for which Jude contends is the Christian teaching about godliness. Let’s look at this together, taking verses 3–4 as set out in the NIV as our starting point.

Dear friends, although I was very eager to write to you about the salvation we share, I felt I had to write and urge you to contend for the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints. For certain men whose condemnation was written about long ago have secretly slipped in among you. They are godless men, who change the grace of our God into a license for immorality and deny Jesus Christ our only Sovereign and Lord.

Jude tells his readers that he had hoped to write to them about the salvation that Christians share with one another, but it had become urgent to write instead about godliness and Christian morals. Now of course salvation includes more than theology, but “the salvation we share” majors on facts about the character and works of God and of Christ, the things we commonly call “the faith.” It is the faith that is enshrined in the historic creeds of the Church, starting with the Apostles’ Creed and running through a large number of other standards that direct us in our thinking about the Trinity, Father, Son, and Spirit, and about how we have come to be Christians in the first place. Christian morals and ethics do not, generally speaking, play as great a role in those creeds and confessions, though the subject is not ignored, especially in sections that expound the doctrine of sanctification. But again, the phrase “the faith” tends to bring doctrinal and theological issues to our minds. Jude’s focus, however, was on combating ungodliness and immorality with every weapon he could bring to the battle.

The very last words in verse 4 might suggest that I have overstated the case. Jude speaks against those who “deny Jesus Christ our only Sovereign and Lord.” Doesn’t this show that his interest here lies as much in theology as in the way the false teachers taught men and women to live? After all, to deny the sovereignty and lordship of Christ is certainly a theological issue if ever there was one.

Two things, I think, will bear out what I have said. To begin with, Jude describes these false teachers as having “secretly slipped in among you” (v. 4). This shows that these teachers did not get access to the congregations by openly denouncing the sovereignty and lordship of Jesus Christ. It suggests rather that they appeared perfectly orthodox in their theology to those who first heard them. Their denials were practical denials. That is, they led believers into the kinds of actions that were a practical denial of the lordship of Jesus over his people. In addition to that fact, the rest of the book bears out this focus—an intense focus indeed—on the ungodliness these men were promoting. The intruders are described as “godless men, who change the grace of our God into a license for sin” (v. 4). Beyond that, Jude repeatedly compares them with ungodly men and angels from the Old Testament, such men as the people of Sodom and Gomorrah who “indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural lust” (v. 7). They are slanderers who won’t be controlled (v. 8). They follow the examples of Cain and Balaam and Korah in their ungodly ways (v. 11). Nor does Jude stop here, but we will do so, in the interests of time and space.

Jude, then, profusely illustrates the point of this article. For the writers of the New Testament, orthodoxy includes our practice, the way we live. This point is important. For too long many of us have thought we were orthodox because we thought that what we called our “doctrine” was on target. Without minimizing the importance of doctrine and theology, when those words are used of the facts concerning God and Christ, we must expand them to take in all of life. It is not only true now, but it has always been true: orthodox theology—what we call “the faith”—includes our practice.

At this point we might ask ourselves, “Why didn’t the other writers of the New Testament highlight this same truth? Why did they leave it to the tiny book of Jude to bring this home to us?” There is a simple answer to these questions. They didn’t leave it to Jude. They are eloquent on this point. Our problem has been twofold: We have made a false dichotomy between doctrine and practice, and the historic creeds have unintentionally aided us, by emphasizing the “doctrinal” side of Christianity. I do not fault them for this; I simply note it as an element in my own failure to grasp the comprehensive nature of theology.

The earliest preaching of the gospel in the New Testament took the following form: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matthew 3:2). These were the words of John the Baptist. Jesus took up the same theme: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of heaven has come near; repent and believe in the good news” (Mark 1:15). Of course, God had always been King. There could be no doubt about that. But the kingdom of God announced by John and Jesus was the realization of the longings of men under the Old Testament and the fulfillment of the promises of a Davidic king, the Messiah. We meet him in Jesus, the Messiah or Christ in the four Gospels.

Though Jesus came ultimately to die and rise again, he spent his public years in teaching his disciples and other listeners. And he taught them theology. He gave them large doses of what is sometimes called “theology proper,” descriptions of God and especially of the Father. We may cite as an example Matthew 6:25–33, where he tells us not to worry, an easy enough thing to say, but we want to ask on what basis we may avoid worry and he goes on to tell us that the basis is the character of his Father. If we understand the Father’s knowledge and love we will see that we may trust him completely. If we strive for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, we will have whatever we need. Having a proper theology, a proper view of God, is extremely important.

How important is conduct and morals to this King? Let’s listen to him as he prepares to say good-bye after his resurrection. What must his disciples do? They must bring other men and women to discipleship (Matthew 28:18–20). Will that involve theology? Certainly, but—that is not where Jesus the King puts the emphasis. Instead, he tells the eleven to teach—not theology—but to teach “them to obey everything that I have commanded you” (v. 20). Pass on my teaching, he says, teaching that must be practiced!

Let’s look a bit closer at this. In the Gospels the Lord Jesus joins as one what we believe and how we live. For example, “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’, and do not do what I tell you?” (Luke 6:46). Here he marries correct doctrine about himself—Jesus is Lord—to correct practice in the most intimate way. [2] In Matthew 7:21–23 he speaks similar words in the context of future judgment where it will be clear to all that he is Lord in the fullest sense. But again he makes it plain that orthodoxy includes the way we live. These two things are like Siamese twins.

An interesting feature of the Gospels is the way prophecies about the future are joined with exhortations about how we must live. These prophecies tell us, for example, about the return of Christ and judgment to come. Those are clearly the kinds of things we call doctrines. As doctrines they give us a basis for the blessed hope we have in thinking about Jesus coming again. But the Lord Jesus does not leave us with mere prophecy. He repeatedly applies it to the way we live out our lives. In Matthew 24 Jesus speaks extensively about his return. Then he adds:

Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 

But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.

These verses show Jesus’ twofold concern in his prophetic teaching. First, he laid out important facts about the future, what we call doctrine. But he obviously has another concern here as well, how his followers must live in the light of his prophetic words. There are hints of this in the phrases he chooses: “Keep awake,” and “you also must be ready.” Why must we do these things? Because as he shows in the mini-parable about the house being broken into, we are responsible in the interim for the way we live.

Jesus fleshes this out in the following paragraph. He addresses us as his stewards or managers. “Blessed is that slave whom his master will find at work when he arrives” (v. 46). We want that blessedness, but what will he do with the unfaithful manager? “He will cut him in pieces and put him with the hypocrites, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (v. 51). Clearly Jesus here uses prophecy as a prelude to practice. We might say, “In light of what the future holds, this is the kind of person you must be!” And Jesus immediately reinforces this idea by telling the story of the ten bridesmaids in Matthew 26:1–13. Some of the bridesmaids were not ready for the bridegroom’s return. They cried out for entry to the wedding banquet, “But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you”‘ (v. 12). It is fun to make prophetic maps and charts about the future. This may even be done legitimately, but prophetic doctrine has a higher purpose, to cultivate in us an urgency to serve our Lord.

Before we turn from the teaching of our Lord in his earthly ministry, let’s look at what may be the most far-reaching demand Jesus has made on his followers. In John 13 Jesus speaks:

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.

Students have often noticed that the Gospel of John has very little ethical instruction when compared with the other three Gospels. John, more than any other New Testament book, is a book of doctrine as we commonly use that word. Commands to be practiced are few and far between. Nevertheless, the whole book with its talk of the love that exists between Father and Son, and the love of Jesus for his disciples, is like the velvet that surrounds this rare diamond, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” And how had Jesus loved them? “No one has greater love than this, today down one’s life for his friends” (15:13). No marriage could be more intimate than this marriage between a Gospel filled with theology and this demand of Jesus for practice.

The book of Acts clearly shows this marriage between doctrine and practice in a striking way, by emphasizing the Lordship of Jesus Christ. For Jews the very word Christ (=Messiah) would convey the ideas of authority and power. To most Gentiles, however, the word would have conveyed very little. In Acts we meet the word Lord repeatedly associated with Jesus Christ. Here was a word that helped both Jews and Gentiles to grasp doctrine about who Jesus was with the ideas of authority and power thrown in. This orthodoxy, or good teaching, again wedded doctrine and practice. In calling Jesus Lord the apostles alerted their audiences to the fact that commands about practice would immediately follow. Note the reaction of the Jewish crowd at Pentecost to Peter’s words, “God has made [Jesus] both Lord and Messiah. .. “ (Acts 2:36). “Now when they heard this, they ... said to Peter and to the other apostles, ‘Brothers, what should we do?”‘ (Acts 2:37). When they saw Jesus to be both Lord and Messiah, they knew that how they lived would be part of the package we have come to call right teaching or orthodoxy.

When we turn to Paul we find important evidence of the unity of doctrine and practice in the form his letters often take. More than once he writes a two-part letter in which doctrine forms the first division and practice the second. As an interpreter of Old Testament Scripture and the subsequent life and teaching of Christ, Paul reminds us of the way his fellow Jewish interpreters treated the Hebrew traditions. They used two categories, haggadah (what one ought to believe) and halakah (how one ought to live). [3] Paul uses much the same form in Romans and Ephesians, as well in portions of his other letters.

In Romans Paul divides his book between chapters 11 and 12. Chapters 1–11 are doctrinal and chapters 12–16 are practical, thus illustrating both sides of orthodoxy. But we must not misunderstand this. The two sets of chapters also illustrate the unity of orthodoxy.

Chapters 12 through 16 are not a postscript to the great theological discussions in chapters 1–11. In a real sense the entire letter has been directed toward the goal of showing that God demands our action as well as our believing and thinking. Faith expresses itself in obedience. [4]

The connection between doctrine and practice is explicit in the opening verse of chapter 12: “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice.. . .” What we should believe is summed up in the words, “the mercies of God,” a phrase that might have stood over chapters 1–11 as a title. What we must do is summarized in the words “present your bodies as a living sacrifice.” When Paul unites them in the one sentence that forms the transition from faith to duty, he puts us on notice that these two things belong together. Orthodoxy includes both.

We see the same division in Paul’s Galatians. There, however, he postpones it to get some important personal matters out of the way in chapters 1–2. As in Romans Paul discusses the basic content of the gospel in chapters 3–4, including the sacrificial death of Christ and how it bears on justification before God. Because of some who showed an unbiblical attachment to the Mosaic law, Paul sets forth his view that the Mosaic law has passed away in its direct bearing on Christian ethics. (Like other New Testament writers, he sees all of the Old Testament, not as irrelevant but, as finding its fulfillment in the Lord Jesus.)

After he has laid this doctrinal foundation, he turns in chapters 5–6 to Christian practice and summarizes what he has to say under the banner of freedom. In the opening verse of chapter 5 Paul again makes a transition from faith to duty as in Romans 12:1 discussed above: “For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery” (5:1). Paul does not use the phrase “the mercies of God” here, nor the words “a living sacrifice.” Instead he speaks of Christ who sets us free (doctrine), and our responsibility to show that freedom in the way we live (practice). The most significant point Paul makes ties faith and duty together once more: “The only thing that counts is faith working through love” (5:6).

In 2 Corinthians 13:5 Paul tells his readers to “Examine yourselves to see whether you are living in the faith.” Given the way we have often used the phrase the faith, we might think that Paul wants us to review our theology or doctrine, to make sure we are orthodox in our understanding of God, Christ and salvation. But that is not his point. His point has to do with how we live. The Corinthian Church had more than its share of sexual immorality and other sins within it. “I fear,” Paul wrote, “that when I come, I may not find you as I wish. ... I fear that when I come again, my God may humble me before you, and that I may have to mourn over many who previously sinned and have not repented of the impurity, sexual immorality, and licentiousness that they have practiced” (12:20–21). That is the context in which he calls for self-examination. The faith, orthodox faith, includes practice.

The other writers of the New Testament reflect the same concerns we have seen in the Gospels, the Acts, and in Paul. When James speaks of “the testing of your faith” (1:3), it is not doctrine that primarily concerns him. In its context the test is the test of endurance in temptation. It is true that temptation comes in many forms, including the temptation to renounce the things one once held. We never want to forget the importance of enduring in those things we believe. But James envisions another kind of testing of our faith. “But one is tempted by one’s own desire, being lured and enticed by it... “ (1:14). Couldn’t this apply to our doctrinal beliefs? It could and it does. We must not lose sight of that, but that is not James’ primary target. Instead he urges his readers to be “doers of the Word” (1:22–25). Then he sums up by describing true religion: “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (1:27). For James, as for Paul and the other writers of the New Testament, the orthodox faith includes practice.

Many years ago, when I worked in Cincinnati, Ohio, with Youth for Christ, there was a young lady who made a promising profession of faith in Jesus Christ. She went on for many months taking an active role in our programs and Bible clubs. And she was faithful to the church that she attended. One day, however, after what was probably several years, I met her and found that she had drifted back into the world in a decisive way. The old, evil habits were back. When I spoke to her about the way she was living she had a ready retort. “I know the gospel as well as you do,” she said. “It’s ‘believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.”‘ In saying that, she quoted the words of Acts 16:31 accurately.

I am ashamed to say that I did not know then what to say to her. Since we remember the events that bring us shame far longer than we remember many other incidents, that conversation is still vividly before me. What should I have said? I might have chosen different words in 1960 than I would choose today, but it is not hard to know what the content should have been. This young lady had denied the bond between doctrine and practice that the New Testament goes to great pains to affirm. To allude to something Paul said in writing to Titus, “God’s grace instructs us in godly living. It teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodly behavior.” Where it doesn’t do that, it isn’t the grace of God (see Titus 2:11–12).

Someone may ask, “Do you mean that this girl was lost even though she depended on Acts 16:31 to make her right with God?” That may be what I am saying; it depends. All of us who are believers in Jesus Christ have failed the Lord severely and repeatedly. We have to hang our heads at the memory of our own defects and sins. But when the Bible speaks of the necessity for godly practice by Christians, it does not assert that we must be perfect. It is not meant to suggest that we are on the verge of perfection. Rather, the Bible speaks of being “doers of the Word” as a way to characterize the lives of Christians over the long haul, the years and years that pass while we profess our faith.

I must say, then, that I do not know whether the girl in my story was really a Christian or not. It depends on whether her apparent indifference to sin was the habit of her life or the unhappy attitude of an exceptional moment. I cannot know which it was these many years later. God knows; that is enough.

But I know now what I did not know then. God has joined doctrine and practice in an inseparable marriage. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. Doctrine and practice are, like husband and wife, one body. And orthodoxy is that body’s name.

Author

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 conference speaker and a contributing editor to Reformation & Revival Journal. He lives in West Chester, Ohio, with his wife Luann. He can be reached at: Tom Wells1@compuserve.com.

Notes

1. Cited in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations (London: OUP, second edition, 1955), 559:31, from Priestley, Memoirs (1807), 1:372.
2. Often the New Testament use of “Lord” means only, “Sir,” a polite form of address. But it is evident that this is not the case here, since Jesus is clearly “Lord” in such a way that he reasonably expects obedience to his words. This makes him Lord in a Master/slave or Rabbi/pupil relation.
3. There is an important difference, however, in how Paul and his fellow Jews used these two categories. For Paul, as all Christians agree, doctrine is extremely important, of equal importance with practice. For Judaism past and present, the question addressed by halakah, how one ought to live, greatly overshadows haggadah, what we ought to believe. See the internet discussion at: <http://www.ao.net/~fmoeller/zchxxix.htm>
4. Walter W. Wessel in The NIV Study Bible, Kenneth Barker, general editor (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1985), 1724.

Without Form and Void: The Usefulness of Liturgies and Written Prayers

By Monte E. Wilson

I still remember my first “liturgical service.” I’d been preaching in an evangelistic crusade in south Florida. Hundreds of young people attended every evening. One of the young people went to an Episcopalian minister and encouraged him to invite me to speak in their church, which he did. I was a bit nervous about the venue, to say the least. My father was a Southern Baptist pastor, so all my life I had heard about these “Whiskypalians” who utilized the smoke and mirrors of prayers by rote and sermonettes by mini-popes to mask the reality that God was nowhere to be found. I decided to go ahead and minister—after all, these folks obviously needed the pure gospel.

I was humiliated. In all my years I had never witnessed such fervent devotion, depth of commitment, or so high a degree of biblical literacy. Not only did the service contain more use of the Scriptures than in any service I had ever attended but it also dripped with God’s presence.

I had always considered “forms to be devices of the Devil, instruments with which to quench the Spirit. Of course, the fact that my Baptist service followed an unwritten-but-always-followed-form never crossed my mind.

One of my chief arguments with any notion of “form” was that I believed it to be a substitute for “content.” Worship could have one or the other, but not both. The Pharisees had their forms, but they—both Pharisees and forms—were without the Spirit. End of discussion.

Moreover, how could the church blindly embrace practices that were nowhere to be found in the Bible? First Corinthians left no room for misunderstanding: everyone was to arrive to worship with something to offer, whether it be a gift, a psalm, a spiritual song or a reading from Scripture. This seemed to me to mean that the congregation must be led of the Spirit, which meant that forms were of no use. “Spontaneity” was to be the ruling principle.

To Form ...

I remember the day God began to reshape my approach to worship and the idea of forms. I was reading the creation account in Genesis chapter one. “The earth was a formless void.” Did God leave the earth in this state? No. He spent the next days giving form and filling the void. After he created Adam, God told him to take creation and shape it into something even more beautiful than it was in its present condition. Mankind was commissioned to beautify creation, to subdue the earth and all it contained for God’s glory. Adam was to bring “form” to creation.

When Solomon built the temple, God gave instruction to utilize colors, shapes and textures to add to the beauty of worship. More important to our subject, God also demanded certain forms be established to guide the saints in their worship. Further, these forms were not to be handled as mere suggestions—but as strict, detailed directions in how worshipers were to approach God.

From the beginning, we humans have always had a proclivity for freelancing. We want to map out our own way to be saved, to worship, and to live. God said the heart was most important but that if the heart were “right,” it would follow certain forms. Of course we know from Old Testament history that Israel often followed the forms while hearts were being unfaithful to God. This didn’t mean that the forms were not important, only that their importance could never be divorced from the condition of the worshiper’s heart.

The forms themselves were to support the worshiper. They were put in place to direct his actions. In many ways, the forms were symbols that were to reflect back to him what was—or should be—going on in his heart. Slaughtered lambs, poured-out water, laying hands on a scapegoat and such were not arbitrary actions which had no basis in spiritual reality. On the contrary, such forms most definitely pointed to those realities.

When the New Testament Church began to worship, it did not do so in a historical vacuum. These people were Israelites. For century after century their worship had taken on certain forms. Of course, some of the forms would now cease, but some would be converted to Christian use. Take the celebration of Pentecost, for example. Feasts were part of the form of the worship of Israel. What believers did in keeping Pentecost was now given the added meaning of the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the Church.

Was the keeping of Pentecost something mandated by one of the apostles? No, but we do see Paul returning to Jerusalem in order to keep this feast. What do we say about Paul’s journey to Jerusalem to celebrate Pentecost with the other apostles? Was the chief protagonist of Judaizers guilty of importing a false, extrabiblical form for worship?

Or Not To Form

Sadly, far too many people within the Reformed tradition are dispensationalists when it comes to defining what is or is not “biblical worship.” Read these words of Samuel Miller (1769–1850), professor of ecclesiastical history and church government at Princeton Seminary, from his book Thoughts on Public Prayer:

We are persuaded that liturgies have no countenance in the word of God, and were unknown in the primitive apostolic Church; and, as Protestants, we feel bound to adopt and act upon the principle, that that which is not contained in Holy Scripture, or which cannot by good and necessary consequence be deduced from that which is contained in it, ought to have no place in the Church of God. [1]

It is as if the Old Testament is considered utterly irrelevant to post-resurrection worship. While “Holy Scripture” is mentioned, Miller is obviously referring to the “New Testament.” Interestingly, the “primitive apostolic Church” did not have the New Testament, so were left with the Old Testament Scriptures to guide their worship—Scriptures that were replete with forms and liturgies that said, “Do this first, this next, then this.” Is this not a “liturgy”? Can we not, “by good and necessary consequence,” deduce that forms are not only legitimate but advantageous?

The Church gradually adopted various forms to serve its quest to worship God, both biblically and appropriately. As Thomas Oden notes:

Worship requires outward order to be accountable to its inner reality. No garden exists without order; without it the land merely spawns weeds. Christian worship from its earliest beginning has been ordered, for example, around a regular day of the week.... 

The experienced liturgist comes especially to appreciate those recurrent signposts and familiar pathways that remind the community of its historical experience and continuity through time. As the psalmists have sung, we now sing. Where the prophets, apostles, and martyrs have walked, we now walk. Gradually there is engendered a rich sense of placement in time that has a reference point transcending time. One sees one’s current activity as illumined by that placement in time.... Eucharist is something that the communicant has done before and tasted many times anew. Part of the liturgist’s task is to look for ways in which those pathways and signposts can still function meaningfully to address modem consciousness. The pastor does well to resist exaggerated forms of faddism and hunger for novelty which so plague modern religious aspirations. But on the other side, the pastor does well to make good use of the wisest and best efforts at liturgical renewal that have been consensually formed on the basis of careful scriptural and historical study. [2]

Two ways a modern Christian can denigrate liturgical forms are to ignore the Old Testament and to discount the direction in which the Holy Spirit led the Church for almost 2, 000 years. Any explanation of the Regulative Principle that ignores the Old Testament is doomed to produce an anemic, minimalistic worship.

Written Prayers

One of the more questioned practices of modern day liturgical forms is the use of written prayers. Again, Miller: “Prescribed forms of prayer appear to have been unknown in the Christian Church for several hundred years after Christ.” [3]

Let’s see now. Denominations were unknown for the first centuries, as well. Would Miller then renounce his Presbyterianism? And since the Church never knew of a Presbyterian form of Church government until the days of Calvin, would he then say that such a government was “wrong” or “evil” or “extra-biblical”?

By the way, there are a number of corporate prayers passed down from the first century. The first one that comes to mind is from the Didache, A.D. 100: “As this piece of bread was scattered over the hills and then was brought together and made one, so let your Church be brought together from the ends of the earth into your Kingdom. For yours is the glory and the power through Jesus Christ forever.”

And what of the fact that the early Christians, as Jewish converts, utilized the corporate prayers of worship from the liturgy they had used in the synagogue?

Miller’s sentiment is, I believe, to honor God with our obedience. We cannot simply do or say whatever-we-feel-led-of-the-Spirit-to-do-and-say, and justify it with “but my heart is right.” If the Bible says, “No,” then, however golden-intentioned we are, our actions are sinful. However, if the Bible does not expressly forbid something that we insist is sinful, we fall into a punctilious Phariseeism.

To Miller’s thinking, written prayers not only have a questionable pedigree, they also transmit a spiritual disease.

Confining ministers to forms of prayer in public worship tends to restrain and discourage both the Spirit and the gift of prayer. The constant repetition of the same words, from year to year, is, undoubtedly, adapted, with multitudes of persons, to produce dullness and a loss of interest. [4] 

And, of course, it’s not just written prayers, but forms themselves that put the soul to sleep. “[A] constant form is a certain way to bring the soul to a cold, insensible, formal worship.” [5]

I assume Samuel repeatedly told his wife or friends, “I love you.” Did he lose interest in her or them? Did his various family rituals surrounding meals, the celebration of Christmas and such freeze his soul toward his wife and children?

Should we throw creeds out because reciting them repeatedly will cause us to lose interest in their doctrinal summations? The early Church ate the Lord’s Supper every Lord’s Day; clearly they weren’t concerned that repetition would dull the senses.

Imagine an Old Testament worshiper coming to one of the priests. “Hey Levi. We have been doing this sacrifice the same way over and over for century after century. How ‘bout some creativity next Saturday, okay? We’re getting bored out here.” Dullness is a problem of the heart, not the form. Many leaders within the charismatic movement will readily confess to a fair number of services where the people were jaded and dull. Spontaneity and a laissez-faire approach to worship do not ensure warm hearts. Forms no more quench the Spirit than freedom ensures his presence.

What if we continually offer up scriptural prayers such as the Lord’s Prayer? If we pray this prayer every Sunday or every day, will our souls become cold? Well, possibly. But, is it the fault of the words, of repetition? Or, is it the fault of the heart?

Contrary to Miller’s concerns, Calvin believed that forms and written prayers were quite useful. Not only did they help keep the Church on track and rooted in biblical realities, they assisted the minister in his leadership.

I highly approve of it that there be a certain form, from which the ministers be not allowed to vary: That first, some provision be made to help the simplicity and unskilfulness of some; second, that the consent and harmony of the churches one with another may appear; and lastly, that the capricious giddiness and levity of such as affect innovations may be prevented. To which end I have showed that a catechism will be very useful. Therefore there ought to be a stated catechism, a stated form of prayer, and administration of the sacraments. [6]

“Capricious giddiness and levity of such as affect innovations”—does this sound like a description of modern evangelical church-ville? Our highest value is placed on being creative and innovative. To the modern mind, only that which is “new” is authentic. If it is something passed down by our forefathers or if it is something that someone else has already done or said, then it cannot be truly spiritual. Such a mind-set was foreign to the Church up until the last century or so.

Written prayers passed down from generation to generation are like treasures bequeathed to us from our forefathers. These prayers have stood the test of time and have been used for the edification of hundreds of thousands of people for one thousand years. These prayers have had their content sifted for alien material, their syntax has been perfected for beauty and appropriateness, and their fruitfulness verified for usefulness.

Written prayers are for me, not for God. I have a desire to speak to him in an appropriate manner. How do I do this? Sometimes I hear a mature believer say something in his or her prayer and, without even realizing it, I begin reciting the same words as my own. It is like my son using my sentences to explain his beliefs or ideas. Young believers—often unsure of how to form the confession or prayer—will repeat the words of the community until those words truly become their words.

One of the blessings of written prayers that has become part of a believer’s soul is that, in times of crisis, tragedy or severe need, the prayer comes readily to mind. Rather than muddling around for words and wondering what is biblical or appropriate in such circumstances, the prayer is right there to serve the troubled soul.

Another usefulness of written prayers concerns “agreement.” Jesus said, “If any two of you agree. .. “. Written prayers keep us all on the same page, praying for the same thing. Moreover, returning to Calvin’s thoughts on the matter, written prayers give visible expression to the unity and harmony of the churches. It is not just my local church praying this particular prayer on this particular day, but all of these churches praying the same thing.

Thus Says The Lord, “Be Reasonable!”

Of course, the real question is whether or not the Bible permits such prayer. Some people define the Regulative Principle in such a manner as to declare that unless the New Testament commands it, we cannot do it. There are, however, a number of problems with such a definition.

First, as I have already mentioned, only a dispensational hermeneutic permits such an approach to the Scriptures. Those of us in the Reformed tradition, who approach the Bible with a covenantal paradigm, assert that unless the New Testament specifically negates or adjusts a teaching in the Old Testament, the Old Testament teaching is still binding upon Christians. Simply because there is no prohibition to bestiality in the New Testament, does not mean God has changed his mind!

Second, while it is true the Bible’s silence means that we cannot require the use of written prayers, we cannot then conclude such prayers are not useful. The Church has always produced hymns for the congregation to sing in unison to God. Are not such hymns simply prayers and praises put to music? So what if the congregation decides to confess or pray these same hymns without the music? Is it all of a sudden a sin for them to do so? Or is it a sin if they use it more than once a year? Or would it be twice, or three times before we would cross the line from spontaneous freedom to the sinful chains of a form? By what standard do we decide how much repetition is too much repetition? And where in the Bible is that standard?

And what is this minimalist approach to the Scriptures? If the Bible does not tell us we can take more than one day off each week, then is it a sin to take off two days? If the Bible does not tell us about pews and carpets and nurseries and church bulletins, have we pushed the envelope too far to use such things? If the Apostolic Church spent hours worshiping on the Lord’s day, are we in sin if we do not follow their pattern and end our services after fifty minutes?

Luther, Calvin, and Hooker believed the Church could utilize reason regarding polity or ecclesiology as long as it was not contrary to the Scriptures. This is a far cry from the modern notion that we can practice only what Scripture commands.

Somehow we must resist the tendency toward becoming neo-Amish in our approach to the faith. Certainly, the quest for biblical fidelity is necessary. However, the faith has come to us through history. None of us would dream of reading the Bible in ways contrary to the Nicene, Athanasian, or Chalcedon creeds. The Holy Spirit led the Church to produce these instruments of confession for guarding the deposit of faith and passing it along intact to the next generation. However, while we insist on noting and honoring the divinely-led historical process that produced these creeds, we are repelled by any notion of considering how the Church crafted its worship for century after century. “Who cares how our mothers and fathers worshiped for one thousand years? We just want the Bible and the immediate direction of the Holy Spirit.” Such inconsistency in how we view history is one of the larger causes for our spiritual bankruptcy.

Offerings To God

A year ago, I gave one of my daughters away in marriage. The plans for this ceremony took close to a year. Questions of what to wear, how many flowers, what music, how much food and drink to serve, preoccupied our thinking. This was to be a covenant-making service; its significance demanded we do all within our power to comport ourselves with a dignity that honored the weightiness of what was being done.

I am not saying that had we all just shown up at a park in jeans and T-shirts, that God would not have acknowledged the covenant that was being made—not at all. The ritual, the use of symbols, the ceremony were all for our benefit. They were used to remind us of what was going on. Moreover, they were our attempt to present our best to God.

Why do people feel it necessary to dress differently when attending a meeting with a civil authority or dignitary? They wish to be respectful. Why do we dress differently for a wedding than we do for a picnic? We wish to be respectful of what is taking place. Why has there always been a desire to beautify our places of worship? Well, because we wish for such places to demonstrate our desire to give our best to God and because we want to create an ambiance that says, “Bow in honor and worship before the King.”

I suggest that prayers are offerings to God. We praise him, we entreat him and we extol his mercies. When I speak to him, I remember that he is in heaven and I am on earth and I had better be careful with my words (Ecclesiastes 5). Consequently, I wish to weigh my words, considering their appropriateness for speaking to the God of my salvation.

Richard Hooker noted this motive to give God our best when he wrote:

The greater they are whom we honour, the more regard we have to the quality and choice of those presents which we bring them for honour’s sake, it must needs follow that if we dare not disgrace our worldly superiors with offering unto them such refuse as we bring unto God himself, we shew plainly that our acknowledgment of his greatness is but feigned, in heart we fear him not so much as we dread them. [7]

In the Old Testament we occasionally read of God’s anger when the offerings brought before him were sick or less than what was worthy of their creator and redeemer. It is only right that we give full attention to how we can bring our best before God, including the words we use in addressing him. As Hooker writes, even if there are some who dislike written prayers—and I add, even if there are those who have abused them—this is no reason for us to refrain from using them.

[T]he causeless dislike whereof which others have conceived, is no sufficient reason for us as much as once to forbear in any place a thing uttered with true devotion and zeal of heart affordeth to God himself that glory, that aid to the weakest sort of men, to the most perfect that solid comfort which is unspeakable. [8]

Written prayers are like poetry. We wish we could be as creative and eloquent as a Donne or Tennyson, but so often our words fall far short of the emotions we wish to convey to those whom we love. Accordingly, we borrow everything from a line to a full poem and tell our lover, “This is how I feel. These words perfectly reflect my feelings for you.” We use the golden words of another person so we can more appropriately articulate our sentiments. Certainly something would be amiss if we never used our “own” words. However, why refrain from using the words of another person merely because we do not presently have the ability to package our emotions or thoughts within the appropriate words and phrases?

Most of us have plagiarized King David, St. John, Augustine and J. I. Packer in our prayers. We cast about trying to find words that will express our faith, our needs, our fears and our hopes. And when something rings true, when a phrase or prayer from someone else resonates in our souls, we employ it in our prayers and praise. The written prayers contained in the various liturgies are such prayers, and they have resonated within the souls of believers for hundreds of years. “These are my feelings. This is my faith. This is what I am asking for.” And the Church does well to say, “Amen.”

Author

Monte E. Wilson, III, a minister in the Reformed Episcopal Church, is president of Global Impact and editor of Classical Christianity. His worldwide ministry acquaints evangelicalism with classical orthodoxy. He can be reached at (770) 740–1401 or at Montethird@aol.com.

Notes

1. Samuel Miller, Thoughts on Public Prayer (Harrisonburg, Virginia: Sprinkle Publications, 1985), 151.
2. Thomas Oden, Pastoral Theology: Essentials of Ministry (Harper & Row, 1983), 94f.
3. Oden, Pastoral Theology, 154.
4. Oden, Pastoral Theology, 156.
5. Oden, Pastoral Theology, 163.
6. Charles Baird, Presbyterian Liturgies (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker, 1957), 23.
7. Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, Volume Two, (Ellicott City, Maryland: Via Media, Inc., 1994), 151.
8. Ecclesiastical Polity, 156.

Savoring God in Public Worship

By Travis Tamerius

In order to assist newcomers to our church, I prepared an overview of our Lord’s Day Service. Depending on one’s background there will be various aspects of our worship that seem strange to some evangelicals. We frequently recite the Apostles’ Creed, formally confess our sins together and practice communion each week. Such decisions, as well as various others, raise questions. In order to help visitors to our church we have prepared a brochure that sets forth our vision of worship, priorities of worship, and order of worship.

Our Vision Of Worship

When we gather each Lord’s Day in congregational worship we are responding to an ancient invitation from the Holy Scriptures: “Come, taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8). At Christ Our King Church we believe that God is the soul’s greatest good and that savoring him is our greatest pleasure (Psalm 16:11). These very basic beliefs drive what it is we are doing when we come together on Sunday mornings. As we worship together each Lord’s Day, God comes near to us; we come near to him. We gather together out of a hunger and thirst for God. He comes near to feed and satisfy us.

When we come together each week to worship God, we are not escaping from the real world. We are entering the real world. In worship we are “doing the world as it was meant to be done.” We are becoming truly human in the way that God intended us to be. Central to becoming truly human is recognizing our dependence upon God. Our most basic posture before God is one of need. We need forgiveness, we need direction, we need beauty, we need food and we need strength to carry on. Even more, we need him. The good news we hear each week is that God is wildly extravagant about giving to us. He loves to provide us with gifts—assurances of his grace, words of instruction, the food and drink of heaven, his blessing upon our work. More importantly, he loves to give us himself. In the weekly rhythm of worship, we are renewing our relationship with God. He gives of his love to us; we return our love to him.

Our Priorities In Worship

This vision of worship shapes our priorities in worship. In the Lord’s Day Service we seek to be God-centered, biblically faithful, thoughtfully catholic, congregationally involved and counter-cultural.

God-centeredness

This should go without saying, we know. After all, this is a church, right? What else would be our focus? However, in the murky world of today, such a claim needs to be in bold print front and center. There is a frequent temptation to push God to the margins of who we are and what we do. When God is not the center, the church becomes something other than people of God coming into the presence of God. The church becomes a three-ringed circus aimed at entertaining people with slick technology, with stand-up comics posing as preachers and with musical showbiz. The church becomes a lecture hall where a talking head aims at cramming brains with more information. When God is not at the center, the church becomes primarily a moral crusade, a political rally or a country club. Each of these substitute identities obscures the more awesome spectacle of an assembly of saints summoned into the presence of the living God (Psalm 111:1).

Biblical Formation

Because God tells us about himself through the words of Holy Scripture, we want our hearts and minds rooted deep within that soil. We want our imaginations soaked in the language of his revelation. The landscape of the Bible includes the varied topography of prophecies and stories, songs and laws, history and poetry—all of which give witness to who God is and what he is up to. At Christ Our King, we enter into that large world each week aiming to pay attention to God. At every turn, you will find our liturgy informed by the words of Holy Scripture. We pray the Psalms each Lord’s Day, give attention to the public reading of Scripture (1 Timothy 4:13) and hear sermons which expound entire books of the Bible. We want our lives formed by something more than the latest word out of Wall Street or Hollywood. We want our lives shaped by the wisdom of God.

Thoughtful catholicity

Our liturgy reflects our belief that the church, which Jesus builds, is a “holy, catholic church.” It is holy in that it belongs to God. It is catholic in that it spreads across time and space. It is a universal church, bringing many different histories and many different nationalities into one new family. In an age of amnesia and “chronological snobbery,” we want our liturgy to have a memory. So you may hear us singing what was originally an ancient Hebrew Psalm, a sixth-century Gregorian chant, a sixteenth-century German anthem, an eighteenth-century English hymn, a nineteenth-century African spiritual or a recent American melody. You will occasionally hear us declaring our faith with the words of the great creeds of the church, such as the Apostles’ or Nicene Creeds. The biblical affirmations of these historic creeds remind us that we walk a path which others have walked. Our faith is their faith. Our hope is their hope. Our God is their God.

Congregational Participation

When you worship God at Christ Our King, you are in on the action. There are prayers to pray, songs to sing, offerings to make, words to hear and a meal to eat. In all of this, you are an important part in the drama of congregational worship. You are not a spectator; you are a participant. This is also true of the youngest among us. Children are a part of this liturgical script. They have a very important part to play. God delights to hear the praises of the young (Psalm 8:2). Jesus wants the little children brought to him (Matthew 19:14). One of the practical ways we try to make this happen is by sending out an email which previews the upcoming liturgy. With the bulletin in hand by the middle of the week, parents are able to prepare their children for their upcoming roles in the Lord’s Day Service. During the week, our young are nourished on the songs and stories of the faith. When we come together on Sunday, our bright-eyed five-year-olds sing and pray alongside our gray-haired saints.

A Liturgical Counter-Culture

Some worship planners criticize what they perceive to be thoughtless, irrelevant, empty tradition in liturgy. They suggest that the church should be clever and innovative, able to capture people’s attention with something “relevant.” At Christ Our King, we would share a similar criticism against thoughtless tradition. However, the problem with thoughtless tradition is not necessarily the tradition but the thoughtlessness. A helpful distinction is made by Jaroslav Pelikan who writes, “Traditionalism is the dead faith of the living; tradition is the living faith of the dead. “

At Christ Our King, we want our faith nourished by the living faith of the dead. We believe there is much to resist in a market-driven pop culture that continually attempts to repackage God as a commodity for consumption. Rather than constantly changing the church to make it relevant to the world of “seekers,” we aim to make seekers relevant to the world of God. We want strangers who come into our assembly to conclude, “God is certainly among you.” We want the seeker “to fall on his face and worship God” (1 Corinthians 14:18). This isn’t likely to happen if the church isn’t worshiping God in the first place.

It is our conviction that you don’t overcome the occasional strangeness of worship by dumbing it down. In fact, it is our conviction that you never overcome the occasional strangeness of worship! It is not entirely natural for you and me to be in the presence of a holy God. Rather than making worship more natural for strangers by leaving God out, we want to keep God at the center and learn what it means to worship him in spirit and in truth (John 4:23). The learning takes a bit of time. It takes immersion into the world of worship where we learn the language of prayer and confession and are trained to hear God speak to us through his Word.

The repeated quest for innovation and relevance in worship is often symptomatic of a disease. C. S. Lewis diagnosed it fifty years ago as the “liturgical fidgets.” As an antidote to these fidgets, Lewis prescribed thoughtful order to the church’s liturgy. He likened the church’s worship to a dance saying, “a person can’t forever be learning the steps to the dance; there comes a time when he needs to dance.” Lewis said the best liturgy “would be one we were almost unaware of; our attention would have been on God. But every novelty prevents this. It fixes our attention on the service itself; and thinking about worship is a different thing from worshiping.” People are still getting these sorts of fidgets today. Rather than choreograph a completely new routine each week, we think it wise to keep the rhythm of a dance that trains our attention on God. Our liturgy aims to do just that.

Our Order of Worship

It is common to hear people celebrate a notion that their church doesn’t have a liturgy. The assumption that usually accompanies this declaration is that liturgy is dead and meaningless, or that it quenches the spontaneity of the Spirit. In response, we point out what should be obvious. Every church has a liturgy. Liturgy is inescapable. Liturgy, is literally, the work of the people. When we assemble at a certain time and in a certain place, when we do some things and not others, when we do something in a consistent sequence, we are doing liturgy. The real questions are: What is the liturgy of this particular church? What are they doing and for what reasons? What convictions are expressed by what goes on here?

Our manner of worship at Christ Our King is shaped both by the wisdom of Scripture and by the witness of the church throughout history. We strive to do all things “properly and in an orderly manner” as we worship (1 Corinthians 14:40). What follows is a brief guide to our order of service.

God Calls Us into His Presence

After greeting one another upon arrival, we take a quiet moment to prepare our hearts. We call to mind that we have come to worship God in reverence and in awe (Hebrews 12:29). The minister then breaks the silence with words of welcome to the people. The minister declares that God has summoned us into his special presence. A university conference room has suddenly become the holy space of God.

God Consecrates Us

On this holy ground, where God has now caused his name to dwell among his people, we confess our sins to him. We don’t always feel like confessing our sin. And yet it is right to do so. So we pray our hearts into submission. Rather than changing the liturgy to express what we feel, we try to feel what the liturgy expresses. At this point, we might pray a Psalm unto God or a written prayer of confession. Or the minister might pray on behalf of the congregation. We also include a time of private, prayer of confession. After confessing our sin, the minister calls upon the church to rise and hear the good news of the gospel, declaring that God in Christ offers forgiveness to those who confess their sin (1 John 1:9).

God Receives Our Praise

The congregation then responds to God’s grace with vigorous praise. The symbolic placement of the piano at the back of the sanctuary underscores our desire to bring the praises forward to God. With John Calvin, we believe that the congregation is the church’s first choir (though not necessarily her only choir). This means that each of us is included in the church choir simply by virtue of our presence. Just as we sing to those we love, whether to a spouse or a child, it is appropriate that we sing to God and to one another (Ephesians 5:19–20). Just as we sing on occasions of joy and gladness, we rejoice in God’s mercy with songs of praise.

God Calls Us to Hear His Word

God then addresses us with words from the Word. These words are read from both the Old and the New Testaments. In our liturgy, we acknowledge that what we have in the written word comes to us from God. After each public reading of Scripture, the reader declares: “This is the Word of the Lord.” The congregation responds with gratitude that God has spoken to us: “Thanks be to God.” Following the reading of Scripture, the minister gives the sense of the passage. Because the ancient message of Scripture had an original audience, we seek to “overhear” what God was telling them then. Because the message of Scripture continues to be living and active, we seek to hear what God is saying to us today. In other words, we are interested both in what the Bible meant and in what the Bible means. It is through this attentive listening to God that we come to know him and love him.

God Calls Us to Offer Ourselves

After God has spoken to us through the Word which has been read and preached, we respond by offering to God our tithes and offerings. Such an offering is a weekly act of worship whereby we give ourselves and the work of our hands back to God (Romans 12:1–2). By giving to God a portion of what he has first given to us (Genesis 28:20; Nehemiah 10:38; Malachi 3:10; Hebrews 7:1–5), we are declaring our dependence upon him and expressing our thanks to him. The elders receive the morning offering, carrying it to the front of the church to be consecrated in a song of prayer. Upon making an eager and cheerful offering to God (2 Corinthians 8:1–5; 9:7–12), we sing together the Gloria Patri (“Glory Be to the Father”).

God Calls Us to His Table

We don’t leave the house of God without first sitting down at his table. Jesus is our gracious host, feeding us with the bread and wine. Our practice of weekly communion grows out of the practice of the ancient church. Throughout his life, Jesus showed himself as a friend of sinners by sharing food with them (Luke 7:34). On the night of the Last Supper, he took the bread and wine of the ancient Jewish Passover feast and gave it a new meaning. He offered the broken bread to his disciples as his body broken for them. He gave them the cup of wine, representing his blood, which would soon be poured out for the forgiveness of sins (Mark 14:22–24). The earliest Christians continued this practice of table fellowship by sharing a special meal together which we variously call the Lord’s Supper or Holy Communion (Acts 20:7; 1 Corinthians 11:26).

It is our practice at Christ Our King occasionally to sing a communion hymn during the distribution of the bread and wine. This appropriately expresses our joy. The Lord’s Supper is not a funeral. Christ is not dead. Our mood is not one of unrelieved sorrow. As Christians, we look at the Crucifixion through the window of the Resurrection. Christ has conquered sin and Satan. He has defeated death and hell. When we sing together and share in this meal, we savor the taste of his victory over evil. By eating the bread and drinking the wine that our Lord has given us, our faith in God is nourished and our relationship with Christ is strengthened. In this memorial meal, we act out a dramatized prayer wherein we call upon God to remember his covenant with his people (Luke 22:19; 1 Corinthians 11:24, 25).

God Blesses Us and Sends Us Out

The concluding moment of Jesus’ life on earth is also the concluding moment of our weekly liturgy. After his resurrection and before his ascension into heaven, Jesus assured his disciples of God’s promises and commissioned them to their calling in the world. Then, “he lifted up his hands and blessed them” (Luke 24:50). The minister dramatically reenacts this at the end of the Lord’s Day Service. We have received the grace of God. We have been made strong with the gifts we have received. We now leave with a charge to be witnesses to the life, death and resurrection of Christ. We go out with a call to embody the kingdom of Christ in work and play, at home and afar. The hands of the ministers are raised and the blessing of God is spoken. Having entered the sanctuary by the grace of God, we now leave the sanctuary with his favor resting upon us.

An Invitation To Worship

We end where we began. The Psalmist says, “Come! Come taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8). The prophets say, “Come to the waters! Come buy wine and milk, without money and without cost” (Isaiah 55:1). The Spirit and the bride say, “Let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life” (Revelation 22:17). We join the chorus and say to you: Come behold the beauty of God by worshiping with us at Christ Our King Presbyterian Church!

About the Author

Rev. Travis Tamerius is pastor of Christ Our King Presbyterian Church in Columbia, Missouri. He is a regular contributor to Reformation & Revival Journal and also serves as a contributing editor.