A Church
First, that it be a church. The Reformers argued that there are three distinguishing marks of the church- the Word, sacraments and discipline. That means your campus ministry isn’t the church; your podcasts are not the church; your family sitting around the table is not the church. But it also means that those institutions claiming to be the church that lack these things are not the church. If a church refuses to exercise discipline, excommunicating the unrepentant of gross and heinous sins, it’s not a church.
Marked By Repentance
Second, that it be a body marked by repentance. If the marks of the church define its structure, repentance defines its heart. We are a people in need of God’s grace in Christ. We are not those who successfully found our way to God, but those whom He has rescued, those He continues to rescue. If sin is seen as something behind us, not a continuing struggle, we’re missing it. A local church should be a group of men, women and children acutely aware of their failures and weaknesses.
And Joy
Third, that it be a body marked by joy. Given the above, the joy we speak of is the joy of our redemption, adoption, and the surety of the promises of God. Our joy isn’t in how good we’ve become, but in how fully we are forgiven, how infinitely and immutably we are loved. While there is certainly a place in the church for careful theological parsing, that parsing should never be a mere intellectual exercise. Instead it should be the font of our joy. Zeal without knowledge is dangerous indeed. But knowledge without zeal is a sure sign that pride is gumming up the works.
Seeking the Lost
Fourth, that it be a body with a passion for those yet outside the kingdom. Too often when we are rescued, when the gates of paradise open for us, we are content to close the door. The world is seen merely as either danger or wood, hay and stubble. Such once, however, were we. Insofar as we remember our rescue we ought be eager to see others rescued. If we aren’t telling other beggars where to find food, we show that we think ourselves the master of the feast rather than undeserving guests. This doesn’t mean, of course, that we design our worship services for those outside. Worship could rightly be understood as the family meal, where He feeds His children.
Bound with the Found
Finally, that it be a body. Too many churches resemble more a movie theater than a family meal. We’re together, and are having something of the same experience, but we aren’t truly together. Our eye, our attention is fixed up front, and those around us do the same. A family meal, however, is something we all do together. We engage one another, indeed we delight in one another. This doesn’t mean, of course, that the first time you visit a given church you will feel immediately at home. But you should be welcomed, and you should be able to see the body sharing life together.
If you find this list disheartening, if you feel there is no such body near you, get to work. A good church is less something you find, more something you build. And if you are nearby and looking, please join us, Sovereign Grace Fellowship, either Saturday evening at 6:30 or Sunday afternoon at 1:00. If you have questions, send them along either in the comments or to sovereigngracefellowship14@gmail.com.
We are all tempted to be practical deists. The deists were the poster children for god-of-the-gaps theology. Because they wanted the universe to make sense, but didn’t want to have to answer to the living God, they posited a creator god (for how else could we have gotten here?). He, however, after creating the universe, took a walk, never to return. God explains the universe, but is not active in it. If He’s watching at all, it is from a distance, and with a deep indifference.
Practical Deism
A practical deist isn’t someone affirming deism but who also is handy with tools. Rather it is someone who would never affirm such a doctrine but lives as if that doctrine were true. He is a deist in practice if not confession. And that’s where we come in. We who are Reformed confess with our fathers this- What are God’s works of providence? God’s works of providence are, His most holy, wise, and powerful preserving and governing all His creatures and all their actions (Westminster Shorter Catechism 11). But we act as though all His creatures, great and small, and all their actions are somehow outside His control. We too often treat answered prayer as a vaguely embarrassing pseudo-charismatic event. God, we seem to believe, may be Lord of space and time, but is an absentee Lord.
Let Not Your Heart Be Troubled
The proof is in the worry. Don’t get me wrong- the doctrine of God’s providence doesn’t mean that unpleasant, or horrific events will not come to pass. Worry, however, isn’t the understandable fear that something terrible might happen. It is the foolish fear that things outside His sovereign plan might happen. Worry is the implicit denial of the promise of God in Romans 8:28, that all things, all things, work together for good for those who love the Lord, who are called according to His purpose.
Living By Faith
The solution is to cease living by sight. All that we see is real enough. The actions of wicked men, at the abortion mill, in the middle east, the ravages of disease, are all real as well, having genuine causal power. They bring things to pass. But each of them is but a secondary cause, a tool in the hand of the One who governs all the creatures and all their actions. He is sovereign over men and over disease, and always brings His sovereign will to pass. Indeed such is how we have been saved. He brought to pass the greatest evil ever, and by it redeemed our souls. See Acts 2:23.
Author and Star
But even here we can still be stuck in our deism. His sovereignty doesn’t merely mean He is the one who wrote the full story of history, who numbered our days before there were days, who planned the descent of every hair falling from my head and then sat back to watch it play out. The glorious, though invisible truth is that He wrote Himself into the story. He who created space and time, who is above space and time also enters into space and time.
Take Comfort
The king’s heart is in His hand. And so is mine. Great and small, the good Lord is at work in them all. He is here and He is not inactive. Be of good cheer. For though He is risen, though He is seated at the right hand of the Father, though He is exalted, having received all authority in heaven and on earth, lo He is with us always. Whether we see it, sense it, feel it, believe it, or not.
Thesis 66- We must pass down strong churches.
A friend once told me about his first day at seminary. All the young men were gathered together and the president of the institution came to address them. He began, as one might imagine, by extolling the virtues of the institution where he served. Then he took a dramatic turn. “A day is coming” the president said, “when you would be wise to disassociate yourself from this seminary.” Here was a man well acquainted with problem of institutional entropy. Institutional entropy affirms that all institutions tend toward apostasy. Yale University was opened because of dissatisfaction with the turn Harvard was taking. Princeton followed soon on its heels. It stayed faithful for many generations, but eventually it took went the way of all flesh, and Westminster Seminary was formed. My friend’s seminary split off from Westminster. That’s just seminaries. We might also present as exhibit A the Roman Catholic church, circa 1517.
Jesus promised us that the gates of hell would not prevail against His church. He also, however, warned that some churches would have their lamp stands removed, that wolves would infiltrate many bodies, that that which was grafted onto to the one tree could in turn be cut off. The church cannot fail. Churches always do. Trouble is, when a church falls, too often she carries saints down with her. Entropy sets in, and we stay glued to our pews.
Our calling is then two-fold. We must labor to be certain that our descendents do not find themselves stuck in the mausoleums built to honor our honorable dreams. We must teach them not to stay in an unfaithful church because their parents were married there or buried there, because they were baptized there, and there came to the Lord’s Table. (Of course, we must also teach them to distinguish between sin common to all churches and gross, institutional infidelity.) We must give our descendents the same warning the seminary president gave to his young charges.
We must also, however, be diligent to build faithful churches, not only for the sake of our own souls, but for the sake of the souls of those who come after us. We must build churches that, for whatever secondary distinctives they might hold to, are defined by their commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ. We must hand down churches built for His glory, rather than our own. We must leave an inheritance of loving fidelity, and a disdain for the things of the world. We must, as we lead the church of today, think through the implications our choices have on the churches of tomorrow.
My father grew up in a neighborhood church. His father served as an elder there. But when my father returned home from college and told his pastor that the good news of Jesus Christ had found him, the pastor replied, “If you believe in the resurrection of Jesus, you’re a d@#^ fool.” The Spirit has left that church, and so has my family. May God be pleased to bless us with institutional churches that are faithful for generations, or descendents who will know when to shake the dust off their feet.
My friend and co-author Paul Derry said it, and I’ll never forget it. We were talking about working together on a book, that book which became Call Me Barabbas. I was concerned my battered reputation might hurt his chances to tell his story. He listened patiently as I told him about my grievous sins that led to my “cancellation.” But then he asked me this, “RC, have you ever killed a man? Because I think I’ve got you beat.” I knew then I was dealing with a man who understands grace.
The truth is, however, that I have killed a man. That said, Paul is still ahead of me, because he’s killed two. The one we killed together, however, is far worse than the one he killed without me. The difference between the two victims was this- one was a drug-dealing, hit making, woman abusing Hell’s Angel. The other was much worse. He was a killer. He was an adulterer, idolater, liar, thief. He spewed forth the vilest curses and falsely accused others. The worst thing He ever did was kill an innocent man, Him. The second victim was Jesus, who died under the curse of every sin I ever committed, that Paul ever committed, that the Apostle Paul ever committed, that David ever committed, that Abraham ever committed, that you ever committed. He was those horrible things because our sin was imputed to Him, and we are those horrible things. In Himself, He was innocent. Paul, and I, and you if you are His, crucified the Lord of Glory. None of the innumerable other wrongs I’ve ever done are worthy to be compared.
Some, even professing Christians, bristle under this accusation. They want to throw their guilt on the Pharisees or the Romans. They’re willing to cop to their own lesser sins, to admit they fall short of perfection. But this? Do we really have to admit our responsibility for His death? Can’t we be better than those who really are guilty? No, no we can’t. In His coming to die for our lesser sins we are the cause of the great sin. We crucified the Lord of Glory. He came to rescue us by name, one by one. And as the saying goes, He would have gone to the cross were I, or you the only one. Had we not sinned He would not have needed to suffer in our place. Which places His suffering on our rap sheet.
I honestly don’t understand why anyone would be reluctant to own this sin, of crucifying the Lord of Glory. What are we afraid of? Do we think it’s too awful a sin to be forgiven? Ah, there’s the beauty of the gospel. It is precisely because it’s such a horror, the suffering of the innocent Christ for us, that the suffering of the innocent Christ for us atones for our sins, all of them. I crucified the Lord of glory. He laid down His life for me, murderer of an Innocent Man though I am. Death, however, could not hold Him and the third day He rose again from the dead, vindicating Himself, and me, His crucifier, with Him. Hallelujah, what a savior.
