The Keys of the Kingdom

The preaching of the gospel, administration of the sacraments and the exercise of church discipline are the three marks of a true church according to the Belgic Confession of Faith (art. 29). These marks are distinct and important in their own right, however, we do not want to suggest that a church's vitality can survive if one of these marks is neglected. This is because the three marks are so intimately connected and interrelated, that they depend upon one another for a church's ministry to properly function. My previous post showed the relation between preaching and the sacraments, here we will consider the how preaching and church discipline work together. The complimentary nature of these two marks are clearly seen in Heidelberg Catechism #83, which asks: "What are the office of the keys?" to which it responds: "The preaching of the Holy Gospel and Church discipline; by which two things the kingdom of heaven is opened to believers and shut against unbelievers." Working from Matthew 16:19, the Catechism explains the duties of the office bearers of the church and how it is that they posses the authority (delegated by God's word) to open and close the doors of heaven. The preaching of the gospel "opens" heaven to all who accept its promises by faith. However, on the contrary, true gospel preaching declares that the wrath of God abides upon unbelievers and hypocrites so long as they are not converted, and thus heaven is "closed" to them. Likewise, church discipline is carried out upon those who continue to live in sin and after several brotherly admonitions are excluded from the Lord's Table (note: connection between sacraments and discipline) and from the Christian communion, with hopes and prayers that they will repent and be restored.  In short, the gospel is not clearly and accurately proclaimed if people are not told the consequences of continuing in unbelief. How will they know what it means to be saved if they are not told what it is that they are being saved from? Likewise, the preaching of the gospel should always flow into how it is that we as Christians should respond (indicative to imperative... like Paul in Ephesians).  Grace leads to gratitude. Church discipline is the practical outworking of that message.  

Preaching + Sacraments + Discipline = True Church?

In the Belgic Confession art. 29 we find listed the "marks" of a true church. These are the things one should look for in order to "easily recognize" whether an assembly of professing Christians actually constitutes an authentic church of God. They are: the pure preaching of the gospel, the pure administration of the sacraments, and the exercising of church discipline. That's it. This remarkably short list of qualifications is all that the Belgic Confession of Faith requires of churches to have in order to be properly considered a true church. But as short as this list is, many people today would like it to be shorter. What if, for example, a church has faithful preaching where the gospel is clearly heard, however it is a Baptist church, where the sacraments are not done the same way as in Reformed churches? Is it not a true church? Many people, perhaps yourself included, see this view as narrow-minded, if not outright divisive. How on earth can a church were the gospel is preached not be considered a "true church"?!  Why can we not have just one mark, that is pure preaching? But perhaps if one begins to see the intimate relation between each of the marks, one can see how misguided it is to divorce one mark from the others.

Let me be clear, the pure preaching of the gospel (not "the word," in the general sense, which contains both law and gospel, but "gospel" in the specific sense) is the most important mark of a true church. That is why it is always listed first and that is why one is much better off in, say, a Reformed Baptist Church than in a Roman Catholic Church. The preaching of the gospel is the means by which the Holy Spirit creates faith in the hearts of the listeners and without it, no one would be saved. But, in highlighting the importance of gospel preaching, we also see the importance of the sacraments when we remember that they are rightly called "visible words." Reformed theology has always emphasized the fact that the sacraments are not meaningless, empty signs, but rather tangible expressions of gospel itself. Sacraments are the gospel. Read how the Belgic Confession speaks of the sacraments in art. 33: 

[God] truly attached these to the word of the Gospel so that He would put forth before our external senses both the very thing itself that He proclaims to us in His word and also even that which He Himself internally works in our hearts, and finally, so that He would confirm in us, more and more, the salvation that He deemed worthy to communicate to us. For the sacraments are signs and visible symbols of internal and invisible things, through which, as through means, God Himself works in us by the power of the Holy Spirit.

In other words, the sacraments are supplements to the preaching of the gospel, adding an external and immanently practical confirmation to what is already heard. This is why Calvin, and the Reformed tradition with him, insisted that the sacraments always be accompanied by the preaching of the word. So, for a church to have robust gospel preaching and yet fail to properly administer the sacraments, it in effect undermines the full-orbed gospel presentation that Christ has ordained. 

coming soon... the relationship between preaching and discipline. 

What hath Northampton to do with Azusa St.?

Some years back, I was at the home of an ardent Pentecostal acquaintance when I was amazed to see a copy of one of Jonathan Edward's treatises on her dining room table. As a newly Reformed Christian I had assumed that since Edwards was such a strong predestinarian, there was no way that my friend could possibly have been giving the treatise a sympathetic reading...and yet it was highlighted and underlined all over the place! What is it that modern-day Pentecostals find in common with the same one who preached "Sinners in the hands of an angry God." Both are/were committed to bring about revival. Like modern-day Pentecostals, Jonathan Edwards attested to an extraordinary outpouring of the Spirit which led, not only to the alleged conversion of many, but was also accompanied by astonishing experiences in the lives of his townsfolk. Although Edwards was careful to distinguish his reports from other sensational accounts like those of the Quakers, he nevertheless, placed a high priority upon extraordinary religious experience and interpreted these events as actual divine outpourings. This is the same trajectory later followed in the Second Great Awakening and today by Pentecostals, in particular, as well as numerous Evangelicals, in general. 

The hallmark of any claim to an authentic revival (excluding Finney's) is that all is wrought by the divine power of the Spirit. Human-wrought effects, brought about by ordinary means and circumstances, are by definition, not revival. Hence, the almost universal criticism of Charles G. Finney's extravagant claim that revival can be brought about through human means without any need for divine grace. The problem with making such a strong contrast with the First and Second Great Awakening, however, is that human agency and circumstances played a large part in the former as it did in the latter. For example, Edwards' early account of the "awakening" going on in his Northampton made its way across the pond where it was enthusiastically read by the likes of John Wesley and George Whitefield, who in turn, sought to bring about the same results. 

Another human-related means used by Edwards and others was the use of what can be termed, scare tactics. At the height of the Northampton awakening, one of Edwards' own distant relations, committed suicide by slitting his throat. Never one to shy away from interpreting providence, Edwards attributed this tragic event largely to the workings of Satan (I'm sure he had at least something to do with it [cf. Gen 3]).  Since God was doing such an extraordinary work, Edwards reasoned, Satan also must be doing his utmost to stop it. His sermons following the suicide used the deceased as an example of Satan's victim, the obvious application was: don't end up like him.  Edwards heightened the urgency for his parishioners as he attested that "multitudes," who previously never suffered from depression, were suddenly confronted with the temptation to end their own life! It was as if, according to Edwards, Satan came upon them and told them, "'Cut your own throat, now is good opportunity: now, NOW!'" 

What are you eating?

The distinction between divine essence and energies continues to afford us with helpful categories in our theology [if you're not familiar with these distinctions, see below]. Perhaps this is no more evident than in how one formulates their doctrine of the Lord's Supper. The official Roman Catholic view maintains that what is eaten during communion is no longer bread and wine, but the actual (essence) body and blood of Christ. On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the memorialists who say that all that is eaten during communion is merely bread and wine (creaturely realities) and the only edifying aspect of the ceremony is the believer's own pious thoughts and reflections. So who is right? Do the bread and wine really become part of God's own essence or do they merely stay part of God's creation? Once again, we are left looking for a third option. 

Eastern Christianity's classic distinction of divine energies once again lends itself to the classic Reformed doctrine of the Lord's Supper, which teaches that although the elements remain bread and wine, through the working (energies) of the Holy Spirit, by faith we are nevertheless so united to Christ and his work (energies) that we can maintain that as surely as we eat the bread and drink the cup, so surely are our sins forgiven and all the sufferings and obedience that Christ worked (energies) are ours as if we had done them all ourselves (cf. Heidelberg Catechism LD 28). We need not eat Christ's very DNA nor partake of his divine essence in order to receive the benefits of his workings for us.