This is part two of a three part post on paedocommunion that my friend Jon put together. Part one is here.  It’s the practice of allowing young children to partake in the Lord’s Supper. The usual disclaimers apply in that I didn’t write this, but I happen to think what he says has merit. I’ve posted this as is, as close to what he sent me as possible. Please comment and check out his blog where he opines on things infosec.

Observations regarding the historical record of the practice

I have not performed an exhaustive study of the historical record of the practice of paedocommunion. There is an excellent summary of historical material on the topic available for review at http://www.reformed.org/sacramentology/tl_paedo.html . However, I have several opinions that have taken shape in my mind about what has contributed to this consensus against paedocommunion:

1. The Reformers were typically confronted with these arguments, not by fellow paedobaptists who sought to be consistent in their covenant theology, but rather by Anabaptist detractors who primarily sought leverage against the doctrine of infant baptism. I fear this goes a long way towards explaining why they were so dismissive of points made, often failing to give what I regard to be any substantial rationale for the traditional practice.

2. Historically, the consideration of these points within the Reformed tradition has been partly obscured by the larger theological battles being waged over the Lord’s Supper. For instance, the question of the nature of Christ’s presence in the supper came to focus largely on the question of whether the unbeliever who received the elements also partook of the flesh and blood of Christ. Calvin and the Reformed tradition answered, “No, Christ is only received at the Table by faith,” while Luther and Rome answered, “Yes, otherwise there is no integrity to the sacrament.” It seems obvious, particularly from reading Calvin, that the language of 1 Corinthians 11 was repeatedly pressed into use for this particular debate as if these words were addressing that specific issue of unbelievers at the Table. Yet in my estimation, Paul nowhere suggests that the unworthy partaking of the Table is due to the unregenerate state of certain members of the Corinthian church. In fact, he presumes that even the worst offenders among them are regenerate people as he identifies the Lord’s judgment upon them as a means of preserving them from being condemned with the world. (v. 32)

3. One other incredible obstacle in Reformed church history to a paedocommunionist perspective, particularly among Presbyterians, has been the misplaced emphasis by many (most?) of the Puritans on a covenant child’s public profession of faith as a means of preserving experiential religion – and even the purity of the Church. I am of the opinion that in their zeal to combat nominalism in the Church and to hold out the necessity of “true conversion,” many of them found it hard to resist making admittance to the Table the primary means of ensuring a regenerate church membership. However, it is teaching, rather than the administration of the sacraments, that is the primary pastoral means of combating nominalism in the church. The administration of sacraments in the New Testament does not seem to be constrained by concerns to avoid nominalism, especially as I think of the near immediate access to the sacraments granted to those who simply professed faith.

In the next entry I hope to dive face-first into the primary concern for those following traditional reformed practice. Some of my biggest appreciation for the reformed tradition is found in the desire to interact with the text we claim as authoritative in a honest, open and consistent manner. The true benefit of this is frequently found in a willingness to discuss and genuinely explore, seeking continuation of the reformation.

This is part one of a three part post on paedocommunion that my friend Jon put together.  It’s the practice of allowing young children to partake in the Lord’s Supper.  The usual disclaimers apply in that I didn’t write this, but I happen to think what he says has merit.  I’ve posted this as is, as close to what he sent me as possible.  Please comment and check out his blog where he opines on things infosec.

The biggest difficulty I find in writing a piece like this is the same difficulty with any writing: consideration of the audience. This was initially written for a number of individuals already thinking and operating within Reformed practice, although, thankfully, labels have a hard time sticking with these folks. Its very likely that I am making some gigantic assumptions that need further unpacking – preference of a philosophical model, knowledge of assorted particulars within church history, understanding of covenant theology, familiarity with past and present church practice of reformed churches – but in spite of that, I’m willing to put this out if for nothing else than a catalyst for good conversation. I am very appreciative to Scott for providing the space for publication and the editorial advice – sage writing wisdom at it’s best.

I have come to embrace the position commonly known as paedocommunion. I accept this label, however, with some reservations about the term. I do not embrace such a doctrine of “infant communion”. I hold to what could be called “young child communion.” Notwithstanding, I am in agreement with all so-called paedocommunionists in humbly insisting that the Reformed churches have erred in delaying the admittance of covenant children to the Table until they “are of years and ability to examine themselves.” I am comfortable with the label and thereby identify myself as one member of a class, loosely defined, of “paedocommunionists.” In what follows, I hope to summarize what has persuaded me to embrace the position I was once content to oppose. I do not intend to provide a comprehensive defense of paedocommunion. There is already existing and thorough writing towards this end, particularly in the 1988 majority report of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church’s committee to study paedocommunion, primarily authored by G.I. Williamson, and more recently in Tim Gallant’s book “Feed My Lambs: Why the Lord’s Table Should Be Restored to Covenant Children” and “The Case for Covenant Communion,” edited by Gregg Strawbridge. Rather, I intend to briefly highlight a selection of points, seeking to demonstrate what has led me in particular to this perspective. We’ll chase these down under three headings: 1. The role of the sacraments in the life of the church, 2. The teaching of 1 Corinthians 11, and 3. Observations regarding the historical record.

The role of the sacraments in the life of the church

My orthodoxy has been preserved by one iteration or another of the Reformed faith. I will readily admit that it was God’s providence that preserved me, but the means by which he did has been through the many shapes, sizes and various streams within the Reformed pale. Through this, I have an ever-increasing appreciation for the Reformed view of the nature and function of the sacraments in the life of the Church. I simply affirm the description in the Westminster Confession of Faith, that the sacraments are:

“holy signs and seals of the covenant of grace, immediately instituted by God, to represent Christ and his benefits; and to confirm our interest in him: as also, to put a visible difference between those that belong unto the church and the rest of the world; and solemnly to engage them to the service of God in Christ, according to his Word” (WCF 27:1, emphasis added)

While I affirm this, I also have no problem asserting that it is a regrettable inconsistency in the Westminster Standards that the sacraments are together spoken of as marking out the visible church, yet the sacrament of the Lord’s Table is withheld from certain members of the visible church as “unworthy receivers” until they reach “years and ability to examine themselves” (Westminster Larger Catechism #177). The traditional perspective asserts that for those children their baptism alone is sufficient mark of membership, yet it seems to me that this statement of the Confession – that the sacraments considered together provide the mark of membership – finds plenty of proof in the obvious case of excommunicated persons. While I am not trying to say that we are treating our baptized children as apostate by denying them the supper, it is obvious that while excommunicated persons are still baptized persons, they are not counted as members of the church due to having been barred from the Table. Through this, I find it to be true that not only are both sacraments essential in defining the boundaries of the church, but that, if anything, the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper has the primary role in this identification.

The simple and straightforward argument made by paedocommunionists that the signs and seals of the covenant are to be received by the members of the covenant is an insurmountable one.

I do believe it is a misuse of the Lord’s Supper to impose it upon a passive recipient, whether it be an infant or an adult. While baptism is administered to those who are passive in order to represent God’s sovereign initiation and establishment of the covenant, the Lord’s Supper, as the sacrament of continuation with that covenant, is rightly administered only to those who are active in order to represent in part the response of God’s people to his covenant. However, I do not believe these differing designs of the sacraments can justify the traditional practice of withholding the sacrament of covenant response and communion from children until they are able to make an articulate profession of faith and undergo the ordeal of taking vows before a congregation.

In both the church and the home, we should rightly call for faithful covenant response from the children of the covenant from the very earliest days of their comprehension and self-initiative. We rightly teach them to pray even as they learn how to talk, we rightly encourage them to sing praises as soon as they can carry a tune (and sometimes even before), and we rightly teach them to actively participate in the worship of God from the very early days of their inclusion in it. Likewise, I believe we would be correct to allow them to take part in the Lord’s Table at as early a time as they actively can do so. While this certainly presumes some space of time between their passively receiving baptism and their actively partaking of the Lord’s Supper, it is far from the present practice of many of barring our children from the Table until many years after they have, in fact, expressed their covenant response to God’s love in a plethora of ways. As Passover was and the other elements of worship are, the Lord’s Supper should be a vehicle for their expression of love to Christ from the very beginning of their days of self-expression.

Jesus said that he came not to bring peace, but a sword. In context he seems to be saying that a natural outcome of his ministry would be division.

I tweeted the other day asking how many of our questions were like that of the Pharisees. They often asked questions designed to misdirect or to draw someone into a theological minefield.

In order to avoid the pharisaical questions, but understanding the divisive nature of the gospel, a quandry develops. What sorts of questions rightly divide and what sort are simply encouraging pointless squabbles?

I ask this question because, well because in part asking questions is what this blog is largely about for me and i want to hit the former questions more regularly.

I’m also about to post a series of entries that make an argument for what some may consider an issue that rightly divides. It’s hardly a hot button and the guest author handles it well, but this seems a good time to ask.

There are a couple of ways (okay probably more than a couple of ways) that God is understood to have dealt with humanity throughout the ages. The two most prominent are Dispensationalism and Covenant Theology. At the risk of doing damage to either and in the interest of saving space I won’t go into too much detail on either. Suffice to say that the former proposes that God has dealt and will deal with different people groups in different ways throughout history using different covenants, or promises. The latter proposes that there are three (or perhaps less) covenants that God has made with humanity and from those theological covenants have spring several Biblical covenants.

Early in my Christian life I was taught Dispensationalism. Perhaps that’s why, even as a Presbyterian now, I can see the point of it. It’s a relatively new way of looking at this topic, apparently originating with John Darby in the 1800s, but that by no means invalidates this school of thought. It does seem, at least on the surface, that God had a different deal with the Jews than he does with the Christians for instance. That’s just one example. According the the wikipedia entry there are anywhere from three dispensations to seven or eight.

Now, as a member of the Presbyterian church, I’m being taught Covenant Theology. This seems to me to make God at least a little more consistent through time. It says that God has made a covenant of works, redemption, and grace (covenant theologians don’t agree that all of these are included) and that these promises were established “in the beginning” and have been in force since. These covenants, so CT teaches, are fleshed out in the covenants God makes with the patriarchs. So the way he deals with them doesn’t change so much as they are codified or fleshed out.

So that’s an awful lot of promises. Here’s what I propose though, and this is likely not a new or staggering idea (and I could be wrong), and that is that there is only one requirement that God has of us. Faith. If we have faith in him then everything else falls into place.

God’s first recorded words to Adam were “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.” Now that could be pointed out as the beginning of the covenant of works, though it’s more of a “don’t do” than a “do”. I’d say though that this was God’s way of saying “have faith in me and what I know to be best for you”. All Adam had to do, all any of us have to “do” really is to trust God. The rest will flow out of that.

We achieve righteousness through faith. We receive grace through faith. We are saved by that faith. So it could be argued I think that at the root of any “dispensation” or “covenant” God has used to interact with us is that faith in him and his plan for us is. If we have that faith, that trust then God will deal justly with us. That’s a promise.

Am I oversimplifying or missing anything?

I’ve been reading some N. T. Wright thanks to my friend Jon and based on that I have to ask the believers in the crowd the following question. When you die where is your ultimate destination provided you are a follower of Christ? Bonus question, what about immediately after you die?

I’ll weigh in after I get some comments.

We’re going through the fruits of the spirit in church. As a refresher that this passage:

Gal. 5:22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

The associate pastor that gave the sermon did some research and determined that the word “goodness” can also be translated as generosity or beneficial acts towards others. He went on to stress that we as a body should be focused on sacrificial giving towards others. That gift could be monetary or one of time or abilities that you use for their benefit. Whatever form it takes, he went on to say that it should be characterized by a passage from Hebrews chapter ten.

32 Remember those earlier days after you had received the light, when you stood your ground in a great contest in the face of suffering. 33 Sometimes you were publicly exposed to insult and persecution; at other times you stood side by side with those who were so treated. 34 You sympathized with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions.

This sermon was especially relevant in the face of a video I had just watched on Saturday. Zach Ricks, good friend, co-author, and editor of Flagship, gave a talk at a Tea Party rally recently and posted the Youtube video. The whole thing got mashed up in my brain and I need to get it out on “paper”. So watch these videos (they’re short) and think with me on this.

Now, Zach and I don’t agree on much politically. I suspect we also differ on a number of theological issues, though nothing either of us would consider critical. But, as he says in the video, we should be able to discuss that. I won’t pick apart everything I disagree with in the videos. That’s not the point of this post. The point isn’t even to pick apart the “on topic” things I disagree with. The point is, given the notion that at least a significant portion of Tea Party folks are Christian and that that’s part of their platform, I want to look at some of the claims that at least Zach makes and see if they line up with this notion of sacrificial generosity.

At about the six minute mark in video one he quotes Calvin Coolidge. “Our great hope lies in developing what is good.” and then he goes on to say, “America is good”. Now I’m not going to say that America is bad. We have many, many good qualities. The questions is, if we are good, what does that mean?

Zach says that there is no country that compares to us militarily, scientifically, culturally, or economically. I’m not sure what grounds he’s using to make those statements and they seem to be a little subjective and as such are arguable. In any case, does that make us good? He also says that we don’t conquer our neighbors. That may be true at present, but wasn’t true when we first came here. Again though, while that may be true, does that make us good?

Zach says that God “is the center of my life.” Laudable, commendable in a brother and I don’t doubt that he means it. He then goes on to say that without religion there can be no virtue. Here he is referencing Dr. Benjamin Rush. God isn’t (and I’d argue shouldn’t be) the center of America’s life. It sounds like Zach thinks he should be. I think that a God, perhaps even the God that I believe in, is the center of many American’s lives. Assuming for the moment that God even could be the center of a country’s life, how would it look? Well, if goodness/generosity is a fruit of the spirit then that would be a part of what we would need to express in order to be a good, Godly nation.

The notion of letting someone pick one’s self up, he says in the second video, is an American virtue. We can’t guarantee equal outcomes. It’s up to us as individuals to figure out that course which will give us a state of comfortable subsistence. All of that is true, as far as it goes. None of that really sounds like generosity though. It sounds like rugged individualism (not necessarily a bad thing by itself) and not at all like having the giving and generous nature that God wants for us.

He goes on to say that the government can’t force us to be charitable. Charity comes from the heart. Forced charity equals theft. That’s all very true (except for maybe the last part which is arguable) and here’s where our goodness is put to the test. If government does take from us that which is “rightfully ours” what do we do? Do we joyfully accept the confiscation of our property and move on in a spirit of generosity? Or do we complain that we’re being dealt an injustice? (Please be aware that I don’t think that all the folks that were at this rally, Zach included, are “complainers” or aren’t generous.)

I suppose one could do both. It’s well within one’s rights as a citizen to protest bad taxes. Still I think any given generation had a significant portion of the populous (probably in any given country) that felt wronged by how the government spent “their” taxes. The question becomes, what do we as Christians do when that happens?

In the face of this, Zach says, “we are a giving people”. He goes on to say, “we give more as a percentage of GDP than any other country”. If that’s true (and the stats I’ve found don’t entirely back that up), is that alone enough to make us “good”?

As a nation we’ve done great things. We are certainly not, as some on the left have said, evil. Though, it should also be said, we have done and continue to do evil things. As individuals the Americans I know are, in general, “good” people, in the sense that they care about others and in the world’s eyes at least they could be a lot worse.

We all sin though and have fallen short of the glory of God. That is a Christian doctrine that I have no problem affirming. Given that, I’d be hard pressed to say that as a country, we’re “good”. I don’t think that’s something any one of us as citizens should take personally. I just think that we should be careful going about and telling others how good we are as a country, without something a little more solid to back it up.

Came across this excerpt at The Naked Pastor (a blog/cartoon you should really keep up with)

The first mistake is surely to condescend to fundamentalism. We may disagree with it, but it has attracted millions of adherents for centuries, and for a good reason. It elevates and comforts. It provides a sense of meaning and direction to those lost in a disorienting world. The blind recourse to texts embraced as literal truth, the injunction to follow the commandments of God before anything else, the subjugation of reason and judgment and even conscience to the dictates of dogma: these can be exhilarating and transformative. They have led human beings to perform extraordinary acts of both good and evil. And they have an internal logic to them. If you believe that there is an eternal afterlife and that endless indescribable torture awaits those who disobey God’s law, then it requires no huge stretch of imagination to make sure that you not only conform to each diktat but that you also encourage and, if necessary, coerce others to do the same. The logic behind this is impeccable.

If reading that stings you in any way, I’m guessing that you either are or were some sort of “fundamentalist” be that Christian or otherwise. I’m not sure that every word in that paragraph is necessarily true or that the whole thing is fair, but I share it because,
believe it or not, it described me once upon a time. These days, not so much. That level of certainty when it comes to every jot and tittle is beyond me.

I also share it because in talking to my friend Brad last night, the Uncertainty Principle came up. It states, for instance, that the more accurately you can describe a particle’s position, the less accurately you can describe its velocity. This isn’t a limitation of ability or science, it’s simply the way the universe works. Now, neither Brad nor myself is a scientist, and this is simply an analogy that came up, so forgive any damage done to the definition or its implications. But we saw an application in this to our faith. Being uncertain isn’t a bad thing.

A certain amount of uncertainty (heh) is practically required in our faith. Brad brought up Job. The man’s questions went largely unanswered, save for God basically saying, “are you me?”. Job accepted that he wasn’t God and would never have all of the answers and that was to his credit according to the scripture. For me it’s not that easy. I have these questions and I simply can’t not ask. So what can I do?

I can take comfort in knowing that while I don’t have the answer, that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. I can understand that God wasn’t angry at Job for asking the questions. He was angry at Job’s friends for misrepresenting him. I can try to grasp the notion that the more certain I am of God’s love and character, the less certain I might be about how that’s actually playing out in the world. And I can be okay with that.

For now.

I’ve been at sea (figuratively) lately. Lost. Struggling in a number of ways. This is hardly a new phenomenon for me. If you’ve known me more than a few months you likely know that I struggle with moodiness, depression, etc. etc. My faith walk is one area that suffers the most as a result of this. Or… if not suffers is perhaps a cause.

In any event this one was and remains particularly persistent. While I do feel better today than I have in some time, there is still a gauze over my spirit. Where once there was a crystal clear connection to the source of my beliefs (if battered by the occasional static), there is now for all practical purposes, nothing.

I was talking to a friend of mine (who shall remain nameless) about this and he said that he was experiencing something similar. In fact, if I’m not mis-characterizing what he said, he never really felt the same sort of emotional connection/resonance with God that I often talk about and that forms, or rather formed, the core of my faith. For him it’s more of an intellectual process.

I’m reading a couple of books by NT Wright (The Resurrection of the Son of God and Surprised by Hope) and they’re quite good and helpful. He presents some excellent arguments in my mind for the reality of the resurrection (if you want to deal with his arguments I suggest reading the books). It all feels more … intellectual than I’m used to though. Apologetics, even really good ones, seem less relational than the walk I’ve had with God to date.

We’re talking about the fruits of the Holy Spirit in church and the most recent one we talked about is patience. I’m having to rely on that to know how much longer I’ll be at sea. I’m not in my home port yet. Until then, expect me to drop the occasional note filled bottle over the side of my poor excuse for a sailing vessel.

photo credit Jimmy Coupe

I hope you guys had an awesome 4th of July. You all had one, contrary to what some may believe. Only Americans celebrate the anniversary of their independence on this day.

I know it’s been a LONG time since my last post. I’ve been a busy little bee and not much in a blogger mode. I did want to share something special with you though. As some of you may know I’ve been working on an electronic magazine called Flagship for a new publishing company called Flying Island Press I’ve helped launch alongside Zach Ricks, Jeff Hite, Philip Carroll, and J-P Losier. We had our launch date yesterday and it was AWESOME.

I know there are some of you out there that might not want to buy something sight unseen and I respect that. As a result, we’re giving away one story in both audio and e-pub format. If you buy the magazine, you’ll get this story and five more for $1.99 for just the audio or text versions or $2.99 for both. I think that’s an outstanding deal.

The story we chose was “Inciting Incident” by Blake M. Petit. Choosing was hard, but we felt his story was indicative of the tone and quality we were shooting for. We at Flying Island Press hope you enjoy them!

E-pub Version
Audio Version

I just tweeted a little bit ago that, “There are times when having an anonymous twitter account would be such a release.” I followed up that gem with, “Of course that leads me to question if I’m cultivating a reputation and wish to guard it or if I’m just afraid of people knowing who I am.” Then again perhaps it’s a bit of both.

There is at least one person in the Twitter ‘verse that I can think of who I thought was doing just that. Then I met this person and they had me convinced that the forward face we saw was it. Now I’m not so sure. In any event this is about me and not about them. It’s just that… I’m fairly certain that we’re all doing that to one degree or another in real life. It might bother some of us less than it bothers others and there are probably a few blessed souls out there who are exactly what you see. The question is, how much of it is healthy?

My good friend Mae said “there is a diff(erence) between being who you are fully and giving into thought patterns and attitudes that are not who you wanna be”. I think that hits pretty close to the mark. I shouldn’t be afraid to be who I am, so long as in the process I don’t become someone I really don’t want to be.

working…
working…
working…

Yeah, clear as mud.

So I guess rather than have an anonymous twitter account, I should probably just be who I am and do as good a job with that as I can. On the off chance I’m wrong and it’s good to have a safety valve and you have a thick skin and a good sense of humor then … look around. Maybe you’ll find it.