The New Testament institution is not, as we have seen, a pure democracy. Neither is it an autocracy. It is the simple truth that singularity has no place in the government of Christ’s church. In every case the singularity exemplified in diocesan episcopacy, whether it be in the most extreme form of the papacy, or in the most restricted application of local diocesan bishops, is a patent deviation from, indeed presumptuous contradiction of the institution of Christ. Plurality is written in the boldest letters in the pages of the New Testament, and singularity bears the hallmark of despite to Christ’s institution.
It is not for us to question the institution of Christ even when we are unable to discover the reasons for it. But in this instance it is not difficult to see the wisdom and grace of the head of the church. Plurality is a safeguard against the arrogance and tyranny to which man has the most characteristic proclivity. And plurality in this sphere always differentiates the singularity that belongs to Christ and to him alone. It is no wonder that failure to adhere to the plurality that must be maintained in the government of the church has, by logical steps, resulted in what on all accounts is the greatest travesty ever witnessed in the history of Christendom, namely, the pretensions and blasphemies of the Roman see. —John Murray, “The Form of Government“
Tag: Ecclesiology
The Exegetical Systematician: Pastor, She Ain’t Yours
Perhaps no doctrine of the New Testament offers more sanctity to this fact than that the church is the body of Christ which he has purchased with his own blood. That which elders or bishops rule is the blood-purchased possession of Christ, that which cost the agony of Gethsemane and the blood of Calvary’s accursed tree. It was that which was captive to sin, Satan, and death, and Christ redeemed it as his own precious possession. It is now his body, and he is the head. How shall we dare to handle that body, how shall we dare to direct its affairs, except as we can plead the authority of Christ? The church as the body of Christ is not to be ruled according to human wisdom and expediency but according to the prescriptions of him in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” —John Murray, Government in the Church of Christ.
The Apologist: Church Discipline is Amoebatization Prevention
The New Testament stresses such purity, for the church is not to be like an amoeba so that no one can tell the difference between the church and the world . There is to be a sharp edge. There is to be a distinction between one side and the other—between the world and the church, and between those who are in that church and those who are not. —Francis Schaeffer, The Church at the End of the Twentieth Century
“All Christian and No Church” or “When Helium Tries to Strut Like Lead” (Exodus 34:29–35)
I’m concerned that many Christians are trying to be too Christian. When a person is all Christian and no church they’re like a single hydrogen atom strutting as though it’s lead. How often is Moses’ experience on Sinai and his subsequent radiance individualized? Visit a “Christian” bookstore if you don’t believe me. Read the titles, they’re heavy on the Christian, light on the church. Which is to say, they’re not that heavy.
The Hebrew word for “glory” carries the connotation of weight. Glory is weighty. If you believe you were meant to fly solo, you won’t have much substance, much weight, much glory. Strive to be Moses, and your complexion will be dull. Own up to being Israel, then you’ll shine.
You’re not shining Moses. You’re sinning Israel. The good news is that you have one better than Moses and in having Him, you have more than Moses. Try to be Moses, and you will see less of God. Be Israel, pleading for the better Moses, and you will see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. You are not meant to be a mediator, you need one. You’re not meant to see like Moses, but like Israel, and because of Jesus, this means seeing more than Moses in the mediator Jesus Christ.
This isn’t a sight you are to strive for individualistically, aiming to outshine all the other hydrogen atoms. Such a congregating of hydrogen atoms is explosively bad. Beholding the glory of God is the collective experience of the body of Christ. We behold and we become together (2 Corinthians 3:18). The church is weapons grade plutonium, radiating with the glory of Christ as she sits under His word.
The Apologist: Dethroning Jesus in the Name of Jesus
It is curious that we can do things in Christ’s name while pushing Him off the stage. I have seen this most plainly when a church has become caught up in a building project and has moved heaven and earth to complete it. One does need a roof over his head, but this is only a small portion of the church’s ministry. The building is only an instrument.
Fighting for evangelism and the salvation of souls should not become primary either; yet how often this happens! Other people, quite rightly, see the church of our generation threatened by apostasy, but then have made the purity of the visible church the center of their lives. In all of these Jesus may remain as a topic of conversation, but His real centrality has been forgotten. In the name of Christ, Christ is dethroned. When this happens, even what is right becomes wrong.
—Francis Schaeffer, No Little People
The Apologist: Trying to Gas a Diesel
The central problem of our age is not liberalism or modernism, nor the old Roman Catholicism or the new Roman Catholicism, nor the threat of communism, nor even the threat of rationalism and the monolithic consensus which surrounds us. All these are dangerous but not the primary threat. The real problem is this: the church of the Lord Jesus Christ, individually corporately, tending to do the Lord’s work in the power of the flesh rather than of the Spirit. The central problem is always in the midst of the people of God, not in the circumstances surrounding them. —Francis, Schaeffer, No Little People
The Apologist: Consecration over Agglomeration
Quietness and peace before God are more important than any influence a position may seem to give, for we must stay in step with God to have the power of the Holy Spirit. If by taking a bigger place our quietness with God is lost, then to that extent our fellowship with Him is broken and we are living in the flesh, and the final result will not be as great, no matter how important the larger place may look in the eyes of other men or in our own eyes. Always there will be a battle, always we will be less than perfect, but if a place is too big and too active for our present spiritual condition, then it is too big.
…The final result of not being quiet before God is that less will be done, not more—no matter how much Christendom may be beating its drums or playing its trumpets for a particular activity.
…The size of the place is not important, but the consecration in that place is. —Francis Schaeffer, No Little People
Excessively Infrequent (1 Corinthians 11:17–34)
One of the frequent contentions concerning the Lord’s Supper is frequency. Corinth appears to have attempted the Eucharist every time she gathered (1 Corinthians 11:17–18, 20). When the early church in Jerusalem met, she broke bread (Acts 2:42, 46). Clearly the “breaking of bread,” intends more than the Supper, but I’m certain it doesn’t mean less. This is bolstered by Acts 20:7, “On the first day of the week, when we were gathered together to break bread, Paul talked with them, intending to depart on the next day, and he prolonged his speech until midnight.” Surely when the church gathered for the express purpose of breaking bread it denotes more than their being a supper club. Saying they gathered to break bread is shorthand for saying they gathered for the Supper, which is then shorthand for saying they gathered to worship.
A frequent argument for infrequency is that absence makes the heart grow fonder. “Observe it less so that it means more.” Try using this logic with your spouse. “Honey, I’m not going to kiss you as much any more, so that it will mean more when I do. Perhaps I’ll only kiss you once a quarter, when we observe the Supper, that way, it’ll be as meaningful as communion.” When we neglect the Lord’s Supper, we neglect the Lord’s physical touch. Not that the bread and wine are His literal body and blood, but they are physical things He gives to us to express spiritual truth. There is such a thing as excess, and excess destroys, but I hardly think weekly communion qualifies.
The Supper is a means of grace for the saints, but the Word is the primary means of grace. A far greater danger than the Supper becoming common to us is that of the Word becoming common. Shall we relegate the preaching of the Word to once a quarter so that it will mean more to us? Wouldn’t we be more eager listeners? No, our ears would grow dull and our hearts hard. What about corporate singing? Wouldn’t we sing with more gusto if we only did so twice a year? We wouldn’t be better singers in any way. We’d be pathetic. We’d be out of tune to the core of our chests. Our souls would grow colder than our voices grew weak. If the Lord’s Table is a means of grace, why would we want to limit the nourishment the sheep can receive from the Good Shepherd? “One’s view of the nature of the Supper plays no small part in determining frequency,” says Michael Horton. If this is just a memorial, just something we do, then less is no big deal. But, if this is a sacrament, if this is something Jesus does, then less means less.
There is freedom here. There is no explicit command from our Lord. But if I am free to come to the Lord’s Table whenever the church gathers, I want to come every time we gather. If Bethany tells me I’m free to kiss her, I had better, and if I don’t leap at that freedom, something is wrong. If the Supper means little to you because of familiarity, it’s a symptom of a much larger problem than frequency. If the Supper means little to us, it is because Jesus’ death means little to us. Regular observance is a way of knowing our hearts. Loving little cannot be solved by observing less, but observing more might be a means of loving more, because in the Supper, Jesus declares His love to us, and we love because He first loved us. Our love is born out of His, and at the table, we, by faith, have opportunity to feast on His love.
Who Prepares the Lord’s Supper? (Luke 22:1-13)
Who prepared the Last Supper? Jesus clearly commands His disciples to make preparations (Luke 22:8, 13), but the disciples prepare for the feast the way students at a cooking school prepare a meal. When the student shows up, preparations have already been made. The ingredients, utensils, appliances, and recipe are all there before them. Jesus is the master chef. From Jesus’ instructions, it’s clear, He’s doing the cooking.
Jesus is using an ancient recipe, one He gave to His people ages ago in the Passover. The disciples were preparing a Passover meal, but Jesus was preparing the Passover meal. Every Passover up to this point was only a dress rehearsal with a stand-in cast. Fulfillment has come. Jesus is the host and fare of the true Passover. The Jews had the recipe, but they could never procure the perfect ingredients; only Jesus had those, His body and His blood given for us. There will be no recipe failure.
Big feasts take a long time to prepare. The table of salvation that Jesus is spreading is the greatest of feasts and has been long in the making. The best of bread took a long time to rise; the finest of wines was long in aging to perfection. But now, the time to feast is come, the table is being spread.
The Lord’s Supper is the Lord’s Supper (1 Corinthians 11:20). He presides over the table. The Lord’s Supper is a picture of the gospel, and it is a picture He still gives to us just as He did to them. The bread and wine do not become His body or blood, but the enfleshed Jesus, whose body was broken, and whose blood was poured out, is by the Spirit present with His church in the Supper speaking the gospel to us just as He did to His disciples on that night.
We don’t prepare this table the way Jesus does. This Supper is something we are commanded to do, but the doing we do is to come to His table.
A Maturing Praise Palate (Psalm 5)
I’ve a fear that we choke when we should swallow, and swallow when we should spew.
I hope every Christian has had the experience of willfully abstaining from singing some lines of a particular hymn or chorus for conviction’s sake. Not because I want poor songs to be sung, but because they too commonly are. I appreciate many of the lyrics of Paul Baloche’s “Above All.” It begins so well.
Above all powers above all kings
Above all nature and all created things
Above all wisdom and all the ways of man
You were here before the world beganAbove all kingdoms above all thrones
Above all wonders the world has ever known
Above all wealth and treasures of the earth
There’s no way to measure
What You’re worth
Christ, supreme and lifted above all. Almost.
Crucified laid behind the stone
You lived to die rejected and alone
Like a rose trampled on the ground
You took the fall and thought of me
Above all
Jesus above all, and then, above Him, me. Huh? With no intention to shame Paul or question his intentions, this is worse than simple self-idolatry. It’s ascribing idolatry to Jesus. Jesus makes it very clear, that though He was thinking of His people as He went to the cross, the thing He thought of above all was His Father. I tremble at the thought of singing and celebrating that Jesus thought of me above His Father. Sadly, many modern songs of worship are full of this kind of sappiness. How many churches are full of zealous worship, of self, inviting God to esteem us above all? In the psalms, God invites us to worship Him, the modern writer has returned the favor, inviting God to worship us.
I wonder, if we began singing the psalms, would we choke on them? “We can’t sing that!” The psalmists had a mature palate. They hungered for God, all of Him, above all. There wasn’t anything of God they found embarrassing or disgusting. They loved the full course of His glory. They sang, praising not only His mercy, but his justice; not only His grace, but His wrath. They tasted God’s every attribute, saw them as being in perfect harmony, and swallowed exclaiming, “Good!” The psalms aren’t a steak with which you can trim away any undesirable fat. When God makes the plate, we must clean it. In the psalms, God invites us to feast on Him, all of Him. In the psalms God taught His people to sing; in them, He teaches us still. Lord, grant us the grace to swallow, and beyond that, to savor.
No Other Boast 