David Field on Chanting Psalms

His post is so good I’m just going to copy-and-paste a bit of it here:

1. If there were a songbook on your shelf of hymnals and songbooks entitled “The One Hundred and Fifty Best Worship Songs Ever” and you discovered that it had been given its title by Almighty God, how often do you think you would use that book in comparison with the others?

2. What do you think would be the response of a congregation which was solemnly instructed to turn to “Onward, Christian Soldiers” or “When I survey the wondrous cross” or “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound” and then told, “Now we are all going to read this out loud together”? Inevitably (and increasingly, the more it was done) the reaction would come, “But these are songs … they are meant to be sung!”

3. What do you think would be the response of a fan of Dylan or Lennon and McCartney or Bruce Springsteen or Neil Young or Paul Simon or (how am I meant to know …?) some such, if I were to say to them, “I’ve just re-written such and such a song of your hero … I’ve missed out some words, added some others, and changed the rhythms a little and I think you’ll find it’s more singable now”? No, no, no, we want these songs as they came from the head and heart of the genius.

Now apply those three thoughts to whether and how we should sing the Psalms. It’s not complicated is it?

He has a point. David Field also relates how his obstacles were overcome: not really liking the sound of Anglican Chant, which is the best way of chanting Psalms (well I’ve never had that problem), thinking that it must be very difficult to learn to chant Psalms (he got the basics in place in 6 30-minute sessions with someone musical and a small group of others), thinking that it was for “ruff-collared castrati and dodgy Anglo-Catholics” (again, I have no problem with the “elitist Cathedral effect” but he reports that it sounds different with “a few normal blokes”), and wondering if there was a modern translation, pointed for chanting and printed alongside chants (there is, The Common Worship Psalter with chants, a copy of which I own).

There is a small group of us at St. Ebbe’s who would like to start a bit of Psalm chanting, but we need a few more takers. Now David Field has persuaded you, does anyone else want to join in?

Justin Martyr

“Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God.” – Hebrews 13.7

I have a couple of exams this week on Obstetrics and Gynaecology so I thought I’d start a series of posts on some reading I am doing. Knowing next to nothing about the first centuries of the church, I bought Henry Chadwick’s The Early Church (ISBN 0140231994) on Saturday. I don’t know very much about the author, but from what I’ve read of his book so far, it seems as though he is writing from a position of faith which accepts the New Testament’s record of events and realises that the issues the church faced in its early life are to be understood in light of the doctrine of the New Testament, even if his views on authorship and dating of the New Testament documents are less conservative than we might like. As with Packer’s lectures on the Puritans, I write as much for my own benefit as anything else, but with the hope that an introduction to prominent figures in the early church might be instructive, and might encourage some to look a bit more closely at what they taught, as it has encouraged me to do.

A couple of resources I’ve found useful in helping me to dig deeper:

www.earlychurch.org.uk
www.ccel.org

Justin Martyr (born in the early second century)

Justin studied philosophy, first with a Stoic tutor, then with an Aristotelian and finally with a Platonist. Through a meeting with a man on a seashore when meditating in solitude, he was converted as he refuted Plato’s doctrine of the soul and explained how the Old Testament prophets foretold the coming of Christ. Justin continued his philosophical enquiries, regarding Christianity as the true philosophy. Indeed, while he rejected pagan cults and myths, he embraced classical philosophy. Much of what Plato taught is acceptable to Justin. Plato’s transcendant God is the God of the Bible. Such truth came to the Greek philosophers because they had access to the Jewish scriptures and because of general revelation. Whereas in Romans 1, the general revelation in creation means all are responsible and so without excuse before God, so Justin argued that all have light from the Logos of God who was incarnate in Jesus. Just as the Old Testament found its fulfilment in Christ, so the insights gained by the Greek philosophers found their completion in the gospel.

Justin uses the divine Logos or Reason to explain how the transcendent Father deals with his created world and to justify faith in the revelation made by God through the prophets and in Christ. The divine Logos inspired the prophets and was incarnate in Christ. The Son-Logos is needed to mediate between the Father and the material world. The Logos is ‘other than’ the Father, derived from the Father in a way which takes nothing from the Father.

Justin wrote against the Gnostics. He was convinced of the fulfilment of Old Testament prophecy in Christ, and so was in opposition to Marcion, who rejected the Old Testament. The Gnostics held that the material world was created by malevolent or incompetent powers subordinate to the good God. Salvation for them was the deliverance deliverance of the divine spark in the elect human soul from its imprisonment in a body so that it could be reunited with its heavenly home. In constrast, Justin stressed that creation is the work of the supreme God acting through the Logos. In the incarnation, the Logos assumed complete manhood (contra the Gnostics, for whom Christ only appeared to be a man) and truly suffered. Human destiny was not the deliverance of the human soul from its physical frame, but resurrection. We would do well to learn from Justin in this. Perhaps this is something of a hobby-horse for me, but we are so often practical Gnostics. In our evangelism we stress the salvation of our eternal souls and neglect the redemption of our bodies which we will experience on resurrection morning. That is when our salvation will be complete and we will go to be with Christ in the New Creation. This is the Christian hope.

Here are some extracts from Justin’s work On the Resurrection.

Justin on the authority of Scripture:

“The word of truth is free, and carries its own authority, disdaining to fall under any skilful argument, or to endure the logical scrutiny of its hearers. But it would be believed for its own nobility, and for the confidence due to Him who sends it. Now the word of truth is sent from God; wherefore the freedom claimed by the truth is not arrogant. For being sent with authority, it were not fit that it should be required to produce proof of what is said; since neither is there any proof beyond itself, which is God. For every proof is more powerful and trustworthy than that which it proves; since what is disbelieved, until proof is produced, gets credit when such proof is produced, and is recognised as being what it was stated to be. But nothing is either more powerful or more trustworthy than the truth.” (From chapter 1)

He writes against the Gnostics, who “say that there is no resurrection of the flesh” because “it is impossible that what is corrupted and dissolved should be restored to the same as it had been” and “the salvation of the flesh is disadvantageous” because “it only is the cause of our sins, so that if the flesh… rise again, our infirmities also rise with it.” (From chapter 2)

The argument goes that if the body be raised, then everything that has to do with the body will be present too, including sin. Justin argues against this, saying that it does necessarily follow that the body will carry out the functions of which it is capable. He uses the illustration of a woman’s womb. Its function is to become pregnant, but pregnancy isn’t the immediate and necessary consequence of having a womb, as there are those who are barren, and those who abstain from intercourse. (From chapter 3)

The Gnostics argue that if the flesh rises, then it will rise with all the deficiencies and defects with which it fell, and so it is impossible for there to be a complete resurrection of the body. Justin writes in reply that this needn’t be the case and explains why:

“All things which the Saviour did, He did in the first place in order that what was spoken concerning Him in the prophets might be fulfilled, “that the blind should receive sight, and the deaf hear,” and so on; but also to induce the belief that in the resurrection the flesh shall rise entire. For if on earth He healed the sicknesses of the flesh, and made the body whole, much more will He do this in the resurrection, so that the flesh shall rise perfect and entire.” (From chapter 4)

Justin proceeds to argue on the basis of the power of God that resurrection is not impossible. If the pagans attributed to their gods (which are no gods at all) the power to do all things, then surely it is to be believed that the true God is able to raise the body. His power is seen in creation. In chapter 6, Justin shows that the resurrection is not impossible on the basis of philosophical theories of the composition of the universe and how it worked – atoms, the elements of earth, air, fire and water. He justifies the use of what he calls “secular” arguments in chapter 5 “because to God nothing is secular, not even the world itself, for it is His workmanship”, which is a true enough observation, and also “because we are conducting our argument so as to meet unbelievers”, and so it is necessary to use an argument drawn from “physical reasons”, from “the arguments of the world”. This latter is of course the driving force behind modern apologetics, for example, arguments from science for the existence of God. Justin’s example here shows that to do this is to “build with straw” – the elements of earth, air, fire and water have long been left behind and no doubt too the scientific theories upon which we try to base an apologetic for the Christian faith, or at least for the existence of God will one day be overthrown for another. Science advanced by paradigm shifts.

Justin affirms the value of the body in God’s sight and denies that it is unworthy of resurrection and salvation because man made from the dust of the earth is created in the image of God. On account of this fleshly man which is precious because body and soul together it is made in the image of God the whole of the rest of the creation was made, again, affirming the value of the body. (From chapter 7). This means in turn that it would be unfitting for God not to save the body as well as the soul – he would be labouring in vain if that which he created and which was precious in his sight he simply neglect and allow to decay. The Gnostics say that the promise of salvation is not made to the body. Justin denies this, saying that when God promises to save man, he must include the body in the promise because man is not soul alone (the soul is the soul of the man) nor body alone (the body is the body of the man) but to the man belong both body and soul. (From chapter eight)

Justin then argues for the resurrection of the body on the grounds of Jesus’ raising of the dead and of Jesus’ own resurrection:

“If He had no need of the flesh, why did He heal it? And what is most forcible of all, He raised the dead. Why? Was it not to show what the resurrection should be? How then did He raise the dead? Their souls or their bodies? Manifestly both. If the resurrection were only spiritual, it was requisite that He, in raising the dead, should show the body lying apart by itself, and the soul living apart by itself. But now He did not do so, but raised the body, confirming in it the promise of life. Why did He rise in the flesh in which He suffered, unless to show the resurrection of the flesh? And wishing to confirm this, when His disciples did not know whether to believe He had truly risen in the body, and were looking upon Him and doubting, He said to them, “Ye have not yet faith, see that it is I;” and He let them handle Him, and showed them the prints of the nails in His hands. And when they were by every kind of proof persuaded that it was Himself, and in the body, they asked Him to eat with them, that they might thus still more accurately ascertain that He had in verity risen bodily; and He did eat honey-comb and fish.” (From chapter 9)

Justin concludes by saying that if there is no resurrection, then there would be no reason for not indulging its desires. Indeed, in the Corinthian church there were those who denied the resurrection of the dead and this is the argument that lay behind the immorality of some – we’re only sinning with our bodies, so it doesn’t matter. But, Justin reminds us, Christ doesn’t allow us to indulge our bodies but rather “having rescued us from our desires, regulates our flesh with His own wise and temperate rule” and so it is clear that the body too “possesses a hope of salvation.” (From chapter 10)

The Puritan Doctrine of Salvation by Grace

More notes on Packer’s lectures.

John Calvin

Packer in his treatment of this subject introduces us to the 1559 edition of Calvin’s Institutes, which Calvin says is finally properly arranged. His treatment follows the argument of Paul in Romans, beginning with the work of God in creation and providence, then salvation through Christ, before moving on later to treat subjects such as predestination and election as doctrines for the comfort of the believer, whereas before he had previously dealt with election earlier in his work with creation and providence. Succeeding Calvin, Beza in seeking to make Calvin’s work more logical and thus comprehensible, rearranged his material, returning the treatment of election to the beginning of the book.

This is relevant because William Perkins, perhaps the first great Puritan writer, lifted much of his material directly from Beza and translated it into English and he influenced Puritan theology for generations to come. The Puritans were very much mediaevals in that they were a school of thought, borrowing freely from one another and basing their work directly upon one another. This is not to suggest a lack of critical thought. Their scholarship preceded the development of modern individualistic critical thinking, in which everyone is encouraged to make their minds up for themselves. Instead, what other Puritans were firmly persuaded was taught by Scripture, and what God had owned through their ministry, they accepted and taught themselves.

Theodore Beza

What Perkins and the majority of other Puritans saw as the content of the Bible’s teaching on salvation by grace is well-represented in the Golden Chain, the ocular catechism (i.e. visual aid) included for reference in the previous post. Beza’s rearrangement of Calvin produced a supralapsarian scheme. This followed the Aristotelian logical principle that the ultimate goal is the first thing one has in one’s mind, and that the intermediate steps to that goal are logically conceived in the reverse order to which they actually happen. So God’s ultimate goal is his own glory. He achieves this through demonstrating his justice with mercy to the elect in Christ and justice without mercy to the reprobate. Thus he elects some to be saved and reprobates others. Logically in sequence, he subsequently ordains the fall in order that there be those to whom he will show love and effectually call and sanctify and glorify, and those whom he will hate and will face eternal punishment in hell. This is supralapsarian because the decree to elect and reprobate comes before, or above, the fall is decreed.

Packer finds supralapsarianism abhorrent and spends a long time explaining why he thinks that infralapsarianism, where the decree to elect and reprobate comes after the fall, is to be preferred. He makes the point that supralapsarianism does not seem to do justice to God’s nature as love. Love is rather the name given to the way that God deals with one group of people and not the other group of people. He labours this to the extent that his claim not be trying to sell infralapsarian sounds hollow. God purposes to create the world and then he purposes that his world should go wrong, and so he ordains the salvation of some and the reprobation of others, giving them only what they deserve. Why this foreordination of the fall? There is mystery here, Packer says. This is something about which I need to do some more thinking but it leaves me unsatisfied. We must submit to God’s self-revelation in Scripture and not to our own ideas of what is abhorrent and what is not, to know what God is like, otherwise we will be worshipping idols. Robert Reymond in his systematic theology, reminds us that Paul’s answer in Romans 9 to the question of God’s fairness not with an explanation that as sinners God could justly reject us all but in his mercy has chosen to save some, but by appealing to God’s sovereign right to do with men as he pleases. Moreover, he points out that it is possible to conceive of a supralapsarian scheme in which God is not simply interested in having two groups of people, as Packer puts it, but in which God from the outset discriminates among men as sinners, some of whom he elects to salvation in Christ though they don’t deserve it, some of whom he justly reprobates, which does more justice to the Bible’s testimony that God’s nature is love. I digress.

By bringing God’s sovereignty in election and reprobation to the fore in this way is not without its problems. It can be frightening to the individual sinner. It had implications for how the Puritans conceived of the gospel, i.e. what they preached, and how they exhorted people to respond. This is particularly seen in the spectrum of definitions of faith that existed from the mid-sixteenth to mid-seventeenth century. For Calvin, it was knowledge, assured knowledge of the favour of God towards us. For Perkins, it was more applicatory. Faith was the application of Christ and his benefits to oneself, but this application was done by assurance, a work of the Holy Spirit. For John Owen, it was a recognition that the gospel was true coupled with an acceptance that one needed it oneself, (approbation of, and acquiescence in, it). For William Ames, it was not only a recognition of the truth of the gospel, pious affection towards God and an acceptance of one’s own personal need of the gospel, but it also involved a leaning on Christ for all the benefits of his death and passion. This sounds more like contemporary evangelical definitions of faith and certainly seems to do more justice to the Biblical witness. Interestingly, this was the language the Arminians used and although Ames disputed with them, he incorporated this language himself where others, such as Owen, were reticient so to do.

In the preaching of the gospel, there were therefore those like Jonathan Edwards, who would preach the gospel in general terms and only felt able to call on people to pray to God that he would grant them faith, that they would know that their sins were forgiven, that Christ had died for them. Then there were those who followed Baxter as an evangelist, preaching the “whosoever” promise of the gospel, and who exhorted people more directly to respond to Christ. There were many who would not have followed Baxter as a theologian, however. He was an Amyraldian, a four-point Calvinist, who believed that Christ died equally for everyone. Packer rightly points out that this introduces inconsistency within the Godhead, the Father sending the Son to die for all, the Son dying for all, the Father electing that only some should be saved, and that this is not compatible with a reverent view of God. To hold that Christ died for the elect is not to restrict the offer of the gospel – Christ died for sinners and whosoever believes in him will be saved. Packer encourages those in his audience who are (or will be) preachers to show by their practice that Reformed evangelism in no way restricts the offer of the gospel. Clearly in our handling of election, Calvin, rather than Beza, is to be imitated, keeping back the doctrine of God’s election as a “family secret”, a means of comfort for the believer.

The Puritans believed that assurance could be experienced by Christians and, over and against the Church of Rome, was not presumptuous. Calvin himself thought that all Christians had it, it belonging to faith. The Westminster Standards taught that it was the birthright of every Christian, that as faith matured, so (normally) assurance grew. The method of gaining assurance is illustrated by Perkins’ ocular catechism (left-hand side). If one doubts one’s election, or that one has faith, or that one is justified, one looks at one’s life, perhaps with the aid of one’s pastor, and one sees changes that would not otherwise have been wrought. One can then trace the line back up and see that one has been justified and effectually called, and thus are elect and will ultimately be saved. As one goes on in the Christian faith, one finds oneself more and more in the second half of Romans 7 – not doing the good one wants and keeping on doing the evil one does not want. Naturally this militates against assurance. The issue of where one is growing spiritually (which may be hard to identify) is perhaps less important than the fact that one is still going on with the Lord and thus must be growing. Then again, perhaps Leithart’s idea of baptism, discussed earlier, might come to our rescue with its greater objectivity. There were those Puritans (such as Richard Sibbes) who also held that the Spirit directly assured us that we were God’s children, and that this is what Romans 8.16 is about. All acknowledged that there were times when, more than others, we are aware of God’s love for us. Sibbes uses the lovely illustration of a mother picking up her child and hugging it and kissing it. Some made a doctrine out of it, like Sibbes. Others, like Owen, merely acknowledged that it happened, and was not to be expected to be the case for all believers all of the time. For them, the Spirit uses the means of believers looking at their sanctification as evidence for their justification and election to bear witness with our Spirit that we are sons of God and that this is what Romans 8.16 is about.

I will close with a personal observation about Packer’s seeming fondness of the Westminster Standards. He agrees with Warfield that they are the “ripest fruit of Reformation creed-making” and rather than being overly narrow, they are intentionally broad, encompassing the diversity of views among Puritans about issues such as assurance and, to a lesser extent, faith. I am pleased to note that, as an Anglican, he admits to being able to cheerfully subscribe to the doctrine contained within the Standards.

The Golden Chain

William Perkins’ “Ocular Catechism” outlining what was in general the Puritan doctrine of salvation by grace. (Click to enlarge.)

From the Centre for Reformed Theology and Apologetics

Seeker-sensitivity

A great post from some chap called Paul Buckley at Words, Words, Words (HT: Matthew Mason):

Try being sensitive to this seeker

Singleness

“He who refrains from marriage will do even better.” 1 Corinthians 7.38

I think it’s probably fair to say I have a strong view of singleness. In 1 Corinthians 7, the apostle Paul says that singleness is good. It is good for the unmarried and widows to remain single (v. 8). In the context of a discussion of marriage and singleness, he exhorts his readers to remain with God in the condition he was when he was called (i.e. became a Christian) (v. 24). Certainly he says that it is good for a person to remain in their current situation (v. 26) and he appears to root this in the troubles of the last days. “Are you free from a wife? Do not seek a wife.” (v. 27). He would spare believers from the troubles in the world that marriage brings (v. 28) – we might think of the particular temptations that married couples face to be unfaithful, the arguments that may arise in marriage, concerns about homes and jobs and children. He would spare believers from anxieties about how to please one’s husband or wife which can divide one’s interests from pleasing the Lord (vv. 33-34) and he wants to secure the undivided devotion of believers to the Lord (v. 35). He commends the one who has controlled his desire and who has determined in his heart not to marry. In this fallen world filled with turmoil in the run-up to the return of Christ, he who refrains from marriage will do even better, Paul, the one who by the Lord’s mercy is trustworthy (v. 25) says (v. 38). So for the unmarried condition, the default approach appears to be to try and remain single. It is not, I think, about whether one thinks one is the sort of person who thinks one ought to be single or married, or some sort of sense of calling to be single or married.

That said, lest I be counted among those who forbid marriage and so depart from the faith (1 Timothy 4.1), I want to affirm the goodness of marriage in man’s innocency (Genesis 1-2) and in the fallen state (Proverbs 18.22). It is not sinful for a believer to marry (1 Corinthians 7.28, 36). Indeed it may be more appropriate given one’s passions towards a person for one to marry them (v. 9, 36). And that itself is to be regarded as a good gift of God, the arising of that situation the working out of God’s sovereign will for an individual to marry, rather than to remain single. Of course, this must not transgress the revealed will of God – unless one is married to an unbeliever before one is saved, marriage is to be “in the Lord” (v. 39). I also realise that the married state may turn out to be God’s will for the majority of people.

Despite the merits of singleness, it is nevertheless still hard. Sacrifices have to be made, such as the sacrifice of the joy of having a child (and my time on the labour ward has given me a glimpse of how great that is) and the privilege of bringing them up in the Lord to grow his body, the church. There is material sacrifice, with only one salary coming in not than two, and the sacrifice is not only one of lifestyle, but also of particular opportunities to serve the Lord. And there is the sacrifice of deep intimacy with another human being. That of course becomes most acute when singleness, however much it is embraced, is also enforced upon one, perhaps because the fulfilment of one’s longings falls outside the law of God. This is not helped when the majority of one’s friends start courting and are eventually married and in their right desire to attend to those whom they are courting and to whom they are married, the time they are able to spend with their other friends diminishes.

What can be done about this? In what follows, I am preaching to myself as much as to anyone else. Single believers need to remember that they are betrothed to Christ (2 Corinthians 11.2) and will one day be fully married to him in the New Creation (Revelation 19-22). That is the ultimate relationship of which all human marriages are but a picture (Ephesians 5.32). Single people would do well to remember that marriage is temporary (Matthew 22.30), as, in fact, would married people for that matter. To see the depth of the delight that Christ has in his people, we would do well to meditate on the Song of Songs. In our struggles, we should look to Jesus, who after all was single, “for we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with us in our weaknesses but who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” Because of this, “let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4.15-16). We need to remember that we have been baptized into a new family, with whom we have fellowship. And I think we mustn’t close our minds and hearts to the possibility of deep, fulfilling relationships with other believers, even or particularly of the same sex, within the will of God. Whatever else is going on with David and Jonathan (the right response to God’s covenant king in contrast to Saul’s jealousy and persecution of him, for example), theirs was a friendship between two members of the people of God grounded in the Lord and marked by a knitting together of their souls (1 Samuel 18.1), a love of one for the other as himself (vv. 1, 3), generosity (v. 4), the delight of one in the other (1 Samuel 19.1), the self-sacrifice of one for the other (1 Samuel 20.32-33) and emotional openness with one another (1 Samuel 20.41) such that David could say of Jonathan, “Very pleasant have you been to me; your love to me was extraordinary, surpassing the love of women.” (2 Samuel 1.26)

How can the wider church family help? We would do well to recover the fellowship and level of involvement in each others’ lives that characterised the early church (e.g. seen in Acts 2.42-47). Those who are courting or who are married shouldn’t neglect their friendships with those who are single, but should continue to spend time with them, and involve them in their families. And those who are single ought in turn to use this particular gift God has given them to serve the church in whatever ways they can – with their time, with their freedom from other commitments – whether it be in rendering practical service at church activities and with jobs that need to be done, or helping out particular church members, or being willing to be involved, if it is appropriate, with teaching in the church.

“When I became a man, I gave up childish ways”?

I am beginning to wonder if I am actually a ten year-old boy at heart, having watched and really quite enjoyed the Thunderbirds film on television last night, and racing through books five, six and seven of the Harry Potter series the other week with child-like delight. My guilt at the latter, however, has been somewhat assuaged by what I’ve been reading on the Sword of Gryffindor weblog (HT: alastair.adversaria). F.A.B.

Distinguo

Click HERE for a new ‘blog from Neil Jeffers, which looks as though regular visits will be worthwhile. From my one meeting with him, he seems a pleasant, faithful and intelligent man.

(I fail to see why people have a problem with Latin titles.)

The Sociology of Infant Baptism

Some highlights from the Appendix of The Baptized Body…

A purpose of God in salvation is to reshape us in the image of Christ. Consistent infant baptists treat their children as Christians so that the Christian training of the child occurs simultaneously with the social and cultural nuture of the child, whereas consistent baptists see the child’s Christian life as beginning at a later stage, outside the normal processes of growth and maturation. For the infant baptist, the formation of a Christ-like character is a transformation and restoration of the process of nurture established in creation. So:

“Infant baptism is thus consistent with the more general Reformed insistence that redemption is a renovation of creation spoiled by Adam rather than a new creation ex nihilo.” p. 116

Also:

“Infant baptism imposes a religious identity that the infant has not chosen. As Rowan Williams puts it, it pushes choice to the side. Far from being a weakness, this is one of the strengths of infant baptism for Reformed theology, since it shows that God’s approach to us precedes any response we make. The Divine Gardener loves us, waters us, cares for us, tends us before we can produce a thank offering in return. Infant baptism thus highlights the prevenience of grace.” p. 121

As Calvin recognised, all human beings have faith: true faith or false faith. “Infants are never brought up in a religiously neutral setting, having no religious identity or biases imposed upon them.” p. 122. The logical conclusion of Baptist theology is to say that the religious life and language and culture is something to be added to the culture, language and life of the world around us, a culture which isn’t going to be explicitly Christian or religiously neutral. The child baptised as an infant is separated from its earliest days into a new, Christian culture. “The formative culture is the Christian culture of the church.” p. 134

We need to answer the following question: “Does this culture [of the church] include people in every stage of life, or does it only include those who have reached a certain level of maturity? Is the church a new humanity that includes humans of all levels of intelligence, maturity, and giftedness, or is it more an organization for the religiously interested or the religiously mature?” (p. 133). The infant baptist, with the Bible, I think, says, “Yes,” to the former.

Apostasy and Assurance

On this view of baptism which Leithart advances, we need to accept the reality of apostasy, in which the one who has been baptized and thus united with the historical body of Christ, the church, can then fall away, having experienced what can be described as saving benefits, belonging to the community of people who are priests and kings to God, who are involved in God’s global mission, who are gifted to build up the church, who share in the life of the communion of the saints and the community of the justified, and who are caught up in the work of the Spirit. It is by grasping this that we can pray truly to God with David and the old Prayer Book, “Take not your Holy Spirit from us” (Psalm 51.11).

This makes sense of a number of New Testament passages. There is the parable of the sower, in which the soil falls on rocky ground, representing the one who hears the word, receives it with joy, believes for a while, and in a time of testing falls away. It makes sense of the warnings against apostasy in Hebrews 6, which speaks of those who “have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come” and who then fall away. It also makes sense of 2 Peter 2, which describes the false teachers among the church who deny the Master who bought them as escaping the defilements of the world and know the Lord and Saviour and the way of righteousness. This is consistent with Paul’s argument in 1 Corinthians 10, who appeals to each member of the historical church at Corinth who “thinks that he stands” to “take heed lest he fall” and to “flee from idolatry” on the basis that all Israel were “baptised” and ate spiritual food and drank spiritual drink which was Christ, and were rescued from Egypt, that is, enjoyed real saving benefits, but many of whom were overthrown because they desired evil and were idolaters and put Christ to the test.

Leithart writes:

“All of these passages [including those referred to above] describe a real, although temporary, experience of favour, fellowship and knowledge of God. These reprobates really were joined to Christ, really were enlightened and fed, really shared in the Spirit, and yet they did not persevere and lost what they have been given. Ultimately, these blessings and gifts are no help… But the New Testament says pretty plainly that they have lost something real, which includes a relationship with the Spirit, union with Christ, and knowledge of the Saviour.” p. 91

Apostasy can take a variety of forms. Leithart takes us through the example of the villain who joins the church in order to disrupt it, Saul who refused to listen to the voice of the Lord’s prophet, and Judas, the son of perdition, the traitor. Each of these can be said to have experienced for a time a real relationship with Christ that cannot be merely described as external. The infiltrator hears Christ speaking to him in the word, shares a meal at the Lord’s Table, has contact with the Spirit through Spirit-filled people, and through his involvement in the work of the church participates in God’s saving action in history. Saul was given the Holy Spirit who changed his heart, for a while. Judas himself was given authority over demons and power to heal, heard Jesus in public and private, ate with Jesus, travelled with him, and was greeted as a friend by Jesus in Gethsemane.

As mentioned in a previous post, Leithart is quick to point out that this is not to contradict classical Reformed teaching:

“What’s at stake here is not, it must be emphasized, to doctrine of election or the Reformed insistence that God not only elects but reprobates all before the foundation of the world. I fully agree with the Reformed tradition on that point.” p. 97

What Leithart is saying is that not only does God ordain the end of every man’s life, he ordains the whole life-story of each and every human being, in the case of the apostate, the final end of death as well as experiencing all the benefits of receiving the word and belonging to the church. God relates to his people in time and God’s relationship with people changes with time as people change, all in accordance with what he has foreordained. As beings bound by time, it is the encounter with God who works in time that is most relevant to our experience, as his view and attitude towards us changes as our response to him changes. The apostate can come into God’s favour, respond with faith, then fall away, cease abiding and fall out of this favour. I would have thought this was obvious from, for example, Jeremiah 18.7-10, but clearly for some this is not.

Where is assurance to be found? Leithart insists, with the Bible that we can have assurance. He takes us through ways in which we might look for assurance – fruit in our own lives produced by the Spirit – joy, love, faith – but how do we know that our joy will last when persecution comes, our love so often falls short, and how do we know our faith is saving faith when it is so often weak? Do we look for some inner experience of the Spirit? How then can we distinguish this from mere self-deception? Looking at ourselves is a blind alley which will only serve to undermine assurance.

The Spirit works through means to assure us that we are God’s and that we are in his love. He promises this in baptism. He promises this when we hear the absolution of sins from Scripture. He promises this in sermons. He promises this at his table. Leithart writes:

“Through these the Spirit woos me, hugs me, encourages me, kisses me, visits me, clothes me, challenges me, rebukes me, convicts me, changes me. There is no doubt that the Spirit is addressing me. I can hear Him speak, though He uses human vocal cords or ink and paper. I have no doubt that I’m included in the “us” that is not separated from Christ, because I heard God include me in that “us.” p. 103

In response to the Spirit speaking in these ways, we are summoned to believe.  How can these things assure us, though, if some who receive the same baptism, hear the same words and eat at the same table fall away, if after believing for a while, believing strongly and believing with joy? Leithart admits that there is mystery here. Those who fall away so so because God determines to turn away from them, and they fail to keep faith. The response that we are called to it to keep faith. Having entered the body of Christ in baptism, we are to trust in and confess Jesus, hear his word, dine at his table, serve his people and seek to live obediently. If we do so, we have nothing to fear. God is kind and merciful even to those with the smallest grain of faith. We are reassured of God’s love every time we hear God address us in word and sacrament. This is not self-trust, since all these forms of abiding in Christ are God’s gifts which are effective by his Spirit. It is only then that we pay attention to God’s declaration that we are forgiven, because if we trusted outselves, we wouldn’t. It is by faith that eating bread and drinking wine achieves its purpose. Perseverance is perseverance and growth in faith. Faith has fruits and faith which alone justifies is never alone, but we never mature from trust to works. Faith, which is nourished and nurtured and grows as we “stick with Jesus”, is the way to assurance.

“Too often the Reformed tradition has degenerated into a morbid form of self-analysis that is actually much closer to medieval piety than to the first Reformers. We are trained to stand outside ourselves and adopt a stance of objectivity in order to examine our performance, the strength of our faith, the consistency of our obedience. If our life matches our profession, then we are assured of our standing in Christ. Then we “know that we know” (1 Jn 2:3). This is not, I think what the New Testament means when it talks about assurance. “Knowing that we know” means experiencing the assurance that we are in a relationship of love – a “knowing” relationship – with God in Christ through the Spirit. We come to this experience of assurance in the midst of our abiding in Christ, not by standing outside our relationship with Christ and evaluating it as outsiders. We come to that experience as we trustingly, believingly remember and improve our baptisms, hear the Word of our beloved Husband, and feast as His Bride at His table.” p. 106

Body of Christ

David Field (unsurprisingly) has read The Baptized Body by Peter Leithart and is enthusing about it, so I had better get my comments in!

I ought to begin by admitting that in the past on this ‘blog. I have made some ignorant comments on what is known as the Federal Vision, of which Dr. Leithart is a proponent, for which I am sorry.

Federal Vision theologians are speaking a different theological language than their counterparts. As I understand it, they are focusing on the outworking of God’s acts of salvation in history, rather than from the perspective of eternal decrees and systematic theology. For a helpful introduction to the issues, reading the conclusions of the Louisiania Presbytery of the PCA in America following an investigation into Steve Wilkins, as David Field reports it HERE.

Leithart is keen to make it clear that this different perspective is not to undermine Reformed theology. For example, he declares his agreement with the Reformed tradition on the doctrine of eternal election and its insistence that God elects and reprobates before the foundation of the world. Leithart and others are concerned to uphold the sola Scriptura principle of the Reformation and make the Bible, not even Reformed tradition, their rule of faith. And as it turns out, what Leithart is saying seems an awful lot closer to Calvin and chums that a lot of what we get today anyway.

The Reformed tradition has tended to distinguish between the visible church (to which baptism admits the recipient) and the invisible church. The visible church is in an external covenant relationship with God; the invisible church is internally in covenant with God. Leithart affirms the value of this distinction: not everyone who is part of the historical community of believers will finally be saved. The problem comes when this is taken to undermine the reality of the visible church as the church of Jesus Christ, as his people. Leithart therefore prefers to distinguish between the historical church and the eschatological church. Actually, as I see it, this complements, rather than contradicts, the classical Reformed distinction. Leithart himself seems to use “visible” and “historical” interchangeably, and the members of the invisible church will only finally be revealed when Christ returns. It can be problematic when reading the epistles to work out whether the elect within the community are being addressed or the community as a whole. But it is much easier with the historical-eschatological distinction to discern what is going on. Anything dealing with a church as a mixed community, with structures, institutions and government, rites and cermonies, is dealing with the historical church. And where “body of Christ” refers to the church, with the possible exception of Ephesians 1.23, it refers to the “visible, historical community of professing believers.” (p. 60) See for example, Romans 12, 1 Corinthians 12, Ephesians 2 and 4, Colossians 1 and 3. It is this visible historical church which is the body of Christ, united to Christ, the “head” by one Spirit. Leithart writes of the Trinitarian structure of Paul’s description of the unity of the church in Ephesians 4:

“The visible church is united together by its union with the Triune God, by its unity in the Spirit with the Son of the Father.” p. 63

It is into this church that we are incorporated by baptism. So:

“Those who are baptized into the church share in Jesus Christ, and in Him they are introduced into the Triune fellowship of Father, Son and Spirit.” p. 73

In considering what benefits membership of the historical church brings, and thus what baptism brings, Leithart focuses on the issue of soteriology. Again, the difference between the classical Reformed approach and Leithart’s approach is a linguistic issue, and while Leithart affirms the traditional emphasis on our relationship with God and the change in status and nature that occurs when the Spirit works on a person, he also finds that the Bible is much broader in what it says about salvation. To be saved is to be priests and kings to God (Revelation 1.6), a participant in the global mission of the church (Matthew 28.18-20), gifted to edify the church (1 Corinthians 12), to become part of Abraham’s family (Galatians 3.27-29). In that baptism incorporates one into all that, baptism is “saving” in all these senses. He also writes:

“Those who minister in the church have been caught up in the work of the Spirit of Jesus, the saving work of the Spirit of Jesus. They are participating in the salvation of the world. Some who do this might eventually fall by the wayside… but while they are in the church they are sharing the life that is the church’s salvation. When Korah rebelled, the earth opened up and swallowed him, but before that he was a Levite who enjoyed the blessing of salvation from Egypt, drank from the water, ministered before Yahweh, and participated in the life of the redeemed people of God.” p. 75

In the New Testament, baptism is linked to justification (Romans 6.1-7) sanctification (1 Corinthians 6.11?), adoption (Galatians 3) and regeneration (Titus 3.5), inclusion into the renewed humanity and renewed cosmos of Mt. 19.28 which is the body of Christ. To have Christ means to have him and all these elements are facets of our personal union with him. “Righteous” describes an inherent quality of Jesus and a verdict delivered by the Father in the resurrection, and this quality and this verdict becomes ours as we are united to Christ by his Spirit.

The sociology of baptism is “co-involved” with its soteriology. So:

“To be justified… is to share in the life of the justified community, the people whom God regards, because they are in Christ, as “righteous” in his sight. To be a saint is, in this view, to share in the life of the communion of saints. To be adopted is to be among the sons and daughters of the Father, and to be regenerated is to share in the life-in-the-Spirit that simply is the life of the body of Christ. Baptism delivers us from one “culture,” the culture of Adam into a new “culture,” the culture of the Last Adam. Baptism strips off the culture of flesh and inducts us into the culture of the Spirit.” p. 78

Leithart gives us the example of a Muslim convert, which bears repetition in full:

“He comes to baptism with all sorts of familial and religious loyalities. He has lived in a twisted socio-religious world throughout his life, and this has patterned him with certain habits of conduct, and grooved his mind in certain channels of belief and thought. The Spirit works on Him to break through those grooves and to begin regrooving his mind and heart, and the Spirit also empowers him to break through the behavioural habits that have dominated his life and to resist the demonic encouragements that may well go with those habits. But the Spirit does all this through means. The Word is one means; the Spirit re-tools his heart and mind through the Scriptures and preaching. Baptism is another of these tools. Baptism drowns his old loyalities, and as he lives out his baptism, the Spirit progressively kills his old self and renews his loyalities, his commitments, his desires. Remembering his baptism, he remembers that he belongs to Jesus, not to Allah; he remembers that he is called to righteousness, not to sin. The Spirit uses that reminder in his maturation. Baptism also engrafts him into the fellowship of the church, where, led by the Spirit, believers live in humility, gentleness, joy, patience, love. Through the Spirit’s power, he begins to catch the feel of living as a member of the baptized body, begins to breathe the air of joyful liberty and forgiveness, begins to imitate the gentleness and humility of his brothers and sisters. Baptism is one of the means the Spirit uses to regenerate him, to renew him in the image of God.” pp. 79-80

Does baptism require a response from us? Yes – faith. Faith is the proper response to the undeserved favour of being baptised and privileges that it brings. “It is only by faith that we remain in the body of Christ, and only by faith that the water of baptism poured out on the earth of our bodies will bear fruit” (p. 84)

Faith is trust and entrustment, expressing itself in a life of loving, worshipping and following Jesus. It is allegiance to the Son, keeping faith and believing what God says. It is a gift of God and only those who have faith until the end will be saved.

“Ebbe’s?”

Click below for the sermon I preached on 1 Samuel 1.1-2.11 at St. Thomas, Kilnhurst (10am):

1 Samuel 1.1-2.11 (24:56, 5.70MB)

I have nothing else lined up at the moment until December.

(The title of this post is the first thing one member of the congregation said to me as I was standing at the door afterwards.)

The Puritan Identity

More from Packer’s lectures.

The Puritan Identity is:

• Biblicist  - our lives are to be governed by the word of God
• Pietist – holiness of the individual and of the church is paramount
• Churchly – the church is at the centre of God’s purposes; we are made for fellowship and we are born again into a new family; although the gospel has individual application, there is no place for individualism
• Two-worldly - life in the here-and-now is lived with one eye on heaven (I might nuance that and say ‘the new creation’); we do not live as if success and happiness and prosperity were to be had only in this life; we go through losses and crosses, strains and pains now with the hope of superabundant recompense in the world to come
• Dramatic – our inner life is a conflict with the world, the flesh and the devil.

The Puritan view of salvation was based on the Augustinian doctrine of grace with the Lutheran doctrine of justification (by faith alone through the merits of Christ alone). The Puritan view of society was Reformed Mediaevalism: the church and state, though distinguishable, consisted of the same group of people. To belong to one was to belong to another (I remain unconvinced). The Puritan view of the law of God was “Calvinish”: not only did it function to order society and convict the sinner of his need for Christ (as Luther taught), it also functioned to provide God’s standards for the Christian life. This was over and against the teachings of the Antinomians in around the 1640s, who said that Christians  do not need the law because they were led by the Spirit. The Puritans refused to divide the Spirit of God from the word of God (the means through which he works) in this way. The Puritan life was a kind of Reformed monastacism (without the monasteries) in which every aspect of life was to be methodical and ordered (like the monastic rule) and carried out in the eyes of God.