Take, as an analogy, musical instruments. Instruments change over time—horns, for instance, sound radically different than they sounded two hundred years ago, when Mozart wrote his famous horn concertos. Some musicians argue that horn concertos should be played on modern horns, which are more resonant and smoother in tone—wouldn’t Mozart have wanted his pieces to be played on the most beautiful instruments possible? However, others point out that Mozart didn’t write with the modern horn in mind—he wrote for the older horn. He was a musical genius; he used the idiosyncrasies of the instrument he had to write exactly the piece of music he wanted to hear, surprising changes of tone and all. If Mozart had had the modern horn, he would have written an equally beautiful piece, but it wouldn’t have been the same piece.

Surely God is as good a composer as Mozart. Surely he orchestrates his plan of salvation in a way that takes account of all the quirks of the instruments he has given us. After all, our bodies are as much a part of us—and as permanent—as our minds and our souls. We’re going to spend eternity in these physical bodies. They will be changed, to be sure, into something that now we can hardly imagine; but they will still be material. I think that it is a mistake to think that God’s treatment of us would be exactly the same if we were disembodied minds. We might wish that we were perfect intellects, unencumbered by these awkward bags of flesh, but we’re not. To think that our salvation would be the same had we bodies or not is to devalue God’s creativity.

In fact, I would go a step further (although I reserve the right to keep one foot back on solid ground, in case I’m stepping into quicksand. Feel free to be vocal in your disagreements, if you feel so inclined). Isn’t there the same lack of necessary connection between the soul and the mind as there is between the soul and the body? It is as arbitrary to connect the movements of our minds—repentance, belief—with our salvation as it is to connect salvation to our physical movements. God saves us by his grace, not by anything we do; and so it not inherently sillier to believe that he would wait for us to do something before he extends his salvation than it is to believe that he would wait for us to think something. Of course, this is not to argue that God actually does connect salvation with baptism or with repentance. The way to solve that is to look to Scriptures and see what God said. All I want to point out is that it is not a pure impossibility that our bodies, which are as much our selves as our minds, could affect our souls.

In the drama, a filthy rich yet incredibly handsome real-estate mogul falls in love with and marries a low-income college student. However, this is not a happily-ever-after Cinderella story. The marriage is a contract between the two which stipulates that the girl become the mogul’s wife for one year. In exchange, he gives her the large sum of money she needs to pay for her boyfriend’s life-sustaining burn treatment at the hospital. Only after a year does the girl find out that the mogul had been the one responsible for her former boyfriend’s accident. The mogul decides to tell his wife, who has begun falling in love with him, that if she so desires, he will confess his crime to the authorities and face the consequences, which may include the death penalty. Later, in jail, the convict tells his visiting ex-wife that this was the first time he held back nothing and handed his life so entirely into the hands of another.

This is where the analogy starts. For the billionaire to be humbled in this way for the sake of a poor girl he loves seems to me to echo our own redemption story as the brides of the King of Kings. Our gazillionaire gave up all the Treasures of Heaven and humbled himself to be born into a trough of hay so that he could be with the ones he loves. However, the analogy isn’t perfect. The mogul was actually at fault, whereas our Heavenly Prince had no sin in him. So then, compared to a flawed man’s imperfect love, how much better is a flawless Man’s perfect love?

To hold nothing back, to hand your life entirely over into the hands of the one you love, to ask for nothing in return, knowing well that the one you love may not return your love, or return it as deeply, that the one you love may even be the one to murder you on a cross—this is how Christ teaches his followers to love. Who knew that an atheist drama in a quasi-Communist nation would agree with Christ on the definition of love as self-sacrifice?

If love is bound up with self-sacrifice, then it is inevitably tied to suffering. As one friend of mine subtly put it: people suffer, complain, and die. Jesus warned us that this was going to happen; he said right before he was arrested and condemned to crucifixion, “In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” But suffering is salvation because it is the road Jesus has taken. He expected nothing in return; he knew for all his troubles, most wouldn’t love him back anyways. This selfless love is the hardest. I have trouble putting those whose personalities clash with mine above myself. I don’t want to spend my time and energy loving people who don’t have anything to offer me in return. I expect my affection and kindness to be rewarded and reciprocated, but that is not love as Christ teaches.

I think there is something innate that tells us that true love is selfless, is giving up the self’s right even to breath if need be, for the sake of the loved one. At the most basic and un-nuanced root of it, God offers us one thing—complete love that will fill up even the deepest, emptiest cup. Our first response may be to put up the yellow caution tape and clang shut the gates on our innermost hearts. But after a while, we might peek out a little from behind our defenses, enthralled, our curiosity piqued, perhaps…could it be? We live in a world of chaos, mistakes, and flawed human beings. We cannot accept that a God’s love can be perfect, fulfilling, complete, and exactly what we need. We resist assigning universal, all-encompassing Truth to any single belief, understanding, or actor, because we live at a time when plurality is in and mono-philosophy is out. On the other hand, some of us may deeply desire to believe in a God who is true, who is life-changing, and who offers the most fulfilling life imaginable, but we are harassed by the pestering doubt that this idea of love is uninformed, constructed, or misled. We worry that, in the heat of passion and the fear of shame, for the need for inclusion and under the pretense of adequacy, our attempt to love this God is all a mask which we don for a while and later must discard. Finally, we are apprehensive too, about the price tag attached to God’s love, because we’ve never experienced a love that trumps the flawed loves of flawed human beings. But I guess that’s the beauty of the conclusion that this Christ-God draws—He pays the price, so that it does not cost us anything.

To clarify a bit, it will be helpful to define some of the terms I’m using. Hebrews 11 tells us that “faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” This is illuminating, but still requires some elaboration. By faith, I mean trust based upon evidence but without the complete “sight” of deductive proof. Reason, then, is not entirely opposed to faith but works with in conjunction with it. However, I would like to make a distinction between reason and pure logic – the former being of utmost importance and the latter often lacking significance. Whereas I conceive of reason as being natural wisdom, pure logic is an artificially refined and removed from the realities of life. We need reason to know that 2+2=4, but we do not need set theory to do basic math.

Furthermore, pure logic is incapable of proving itself a valid form of finding truth. One could not go about proving that logic is true illogically. Yet self-justification is generally unpersuasive; we rely on other reasons to support our dependence on logic, namely because our intuitions support it. We have faith in those intuitions. G.K. Chesterton put it best when he said: “It is idle to talk always of the alternative of reason and faith. Reason is itself a matter of faith. It is an act of faith to assert that our thoughts have any relation to reality at all.”

Reason without faith cannot stand. Faith without reason is foolish. A man without faith cannot know God, and a man without reason cannot understand His true nature. Why is reason so elemental to God’s character? The Scriptures explain.

John 1:1 says “θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος” and is normally translated as “the Word was God.” One of the major problems with translations is figuring out what to do when a word in one language doesn’t correspond to a single word in the other language. This is the case with the Greek λόγος – logos. λόγος possesses much more meaning in the Greek than can be captured in the English “word.” Although Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance uses “a word, the word” as the primary definition of λόγος, it continues with other meanings: “something said (including the thought); by implication, a topic (subject of discourse), also reasoning (the mental faculty) or motive; by extension, a computation; specially, (with the article in John) the Divine Expression (i.e. Christ).”

David W. Bercot explains the significance of this meaning:

“When John writes that Jesus was the Logos of God, most of his readers probably understood him to say that Jesus is the Reason of God. In other words, Jesus is the embodiment of God’s all-pervasive, rational power. The early Christian recognized that God is the source of all reason and knowledge. So they believed that any reasonable person would want to serve the Reason (Logos) of God.”

Yet today the common consensus seems to be that the most rational people will reject God’s existence whereas Christians merely rely on faith in illogical ideas. This runs contrary to the conceptions of early Christians like Justin Martyr, who believed that “God begot before all creatures a Beginning, [who was] a certain rational power [proceeding] from Himself, who is called by the Holy Spirit, now the Glory of the Lord, now the Son, again Wisdom, again an Angel, then God, and then Lord and Logos;”

What does it mean to say that Jesus is the embodiment of God’s rational power? John Campbell gives an explanation of John and the philosophic thought which led up to the writing of the Fourth Gospel:

“In the Prologue of the Gospel of John… the Logos is an eternal divine Person, through whom in the beginning everything was made, and he is identified with the eternal Son of God who became incarnate as Jesus Christ. The evangelist seems to assume that his readers are familiar with this conception of the personal, divine Logos, a conception which is of Greek origin. The word logos meant both “word” and the thought or reason which is expressed in words. Greek philosophers, believing that the universe is essentially rational, used the term logos to denote the rational principle by which it is sustained. Jewish thinkers (probably influenced by Greek philosophy) reached a very similar conception of the divine ‘Wisdom,’ cf. Proverbs 8, especially verses 22-31, where the personification of Wisdom is more than merely a literary device. Later, Jewish thinkers writing in Greek combined the two conceptions, using by preference the term logos.”

This analysis seems accurate when we look at Philo who writes, “For the Logos of the living God being the bond of every thing, as has been said before, holds all things together, and binds all the parts, and prevents them from being loosened or separated.” It may seem strange that Logos, which can denote words or speech, would be described as holding the universe together. Yet when we look at Genesis 1, there is one oft-repeated phrase used to describe creation: “God said.” Logos serves surprisingly well to capture the dual nature of creation: rational power binding together the universe and speech resonating with wisdom.

John 1:14 is slightly more confusing when it says “The Word (Logos) became flesh.” The most obvious interpretation this to mean that the logos was Christ – that Christ was the divine incarnation of God’s Word. This fits in perfectly with what Paul says in Colossians 1:17, “The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”

If only we could create masterpieces like these by getting into Socratic dialogues...

Logos, then, is the force permeating throughout all creation. Despite all of our scientific theories, we cannot explain how the basic forces like gravity and electromagnetism really work. We know that they do work and we know at what rates they work, but we are incapable of explaining why they behave precisely as they do. There is no clear explanation for why they shouldn’t operate in different ways besides the fact that they simply don’t. The only reason that I can think of is God – logos – “for from him and through him and to him are all things” (Romans 11:36). He laid the earth’s foundation and marked off its dimensions. He bound the beautiful Plieades and hung the cords of Orion. He knows the laws of the heavens and established His dominion over the earth (Job 38). This is the essential reason that is and is used by God.

Why, then, do people perceive such a contradiction between reason and faith? The division is denied by those who understand the true relationship between them, by those who recognize that both are gifts from God. Although I’m not Catholic, I respect what Pope John Paul II wrote in his own examination of this subject in the encyclical Fides et Ratio: “Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth; and God has placed in the human heart a desire to know the truth—in a word, to know himself.” God has given us rational minds which lead us to the truth in order to know Him better. Man would not be capable of reason were it not for God’s guiding power. As C.S. Lewis put it, “We love and reason because God loves and reasons and holds our hand while we do it.” The Lord Himself asks in Job 38:36, “Who endowed the heart with wisdom or gave understanding to the mind?” The answer is God. To deny the wisdom and understanding of reason is to deny the very gift that God has given man.

Logic is not perfect: sometimes it leads us into paradoxes and puzzles which appear unresolvable. Yet there is a fine distinction between a statement being completely logical and completely rational. For example, there is no logical error in acknowledging that we cannot disprove the possibility that we are merely brains in vats. Yet most people would deem actually believing that we are brains in vats to be unreasonable. Common sense opposes such the brain-in-a-vat hypothesis and living as though such an idea is true would be foolhardy at best. When I write of reason, I am referring to rational common sense, not to the erudite logic that can trip up the best of men. Plain reason – common wisdom – “is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold.  She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her” (Proverbs 3:13).

None of this is to say that we should rely on reason alone to know God. We shouldn’t forget the promise of John 8:31-32, that we shall know the truth if we follow Christ’s teachings. 1 John 4:8 tells us, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” If we love each other deeply and are obedient to the commands of the Lord, we shall certainly have a good understanding of Him. As George MacDonald wrote, “it is to the man who is trying to live, to the man who is obedient to the word of the Master, that the word of the Master unfolds itself.”

Reason alone cannot move us to love our enemies as ourselves, nor compel us to hold to the highest standards of purity. It will not force us to forgive those who have wronged us, nor require us to sacrifice our own wealth for those in need. Only living out Christ’s teachings can reveal to us the beauty behind them. Otherwise, our deceitful hearts will be corrupted and hardened by sin, blinding us to the divine Reason that motivates the Lord’s commands. Any attempts to Reason about God’s character which are not accompanied by following Christ’s teachings are worthless. As J.I. Packer wrote, “a little knowledge of God is worth more than a great deal of knowledge about Him.

Yet there is still something to be said for gaining knowledge about God. Obviously, there is a reason all of us are here, writing weekly blog posts and publishing our opinions. Two millenia of theologians did not write prolifically for naught. Reason is one of our best ways to gain knowledge of God. We must reason our way through confusing Scriptures and reason what significance they have in a world two thousand years later which despite its striking similarities has evolved in many unexpected ways. We rely on reason where God’s other gifts do not work; combining it with Scripture and tradition and experience to come to a greater understanding of our relationship to Him.

There are many aspects of God and we will not fully appreciate His perfection until we comprehend his complete character, including love, justice, grace, hope, faith, and reason.

NICK

“God’s gracious giving to faith belongs to the context of baptism, even as God’s gracious giving in baptism is to faith.” (G. R. Beasley-Murray, Baptism in the New Testament, p. 273)

One typically unforeseen hazard of debates is the temptation to define what we believe about a thing primarily by arguing what it is not—or, at the very least, by insisting that whatever else it is, the other person is mistaken about it!  Description solely through negation consistently generates lopsided, malformed results.  This generally leads to positive characteristics being assumed rather than stated, to rhetoric and exaggeration, and to the habitually unhelpful practice of majoring in the minors.  In his essay “The World’s Last Night” C. S. Lewis insightfully pointed out why he had reservations about such tendencies: “For my own part I hate and distrust reactions not only in religion but in everything.  Luther surely spoke very good sense when he compared humanity to a drunkard who, after falling off his horse on the right, falls off it next time on the left.” I hope that Joseph and I are able to avoid this in our series, as we do share much common ground on the importance and value and necessity of water baptism in the life of God’s people—even while our disagreements remain significant and should not be brushed over.

Today I offer a broad sweep of the New Testament evidence on faith and baptism.  In no way can I hope to be exhaustive here, and next time out I will return to fill in some of the gaping holes I now ignore by examining specific passages.  For now, I want to hone in on this question: what is the relationship of baptism to faith and to salvation in the minds of the biblical writers? This is the issue on which Joseph’s position of baptismal regeneration and my own symbolic/sacramental understanding of baptism have a mighty parting of the ways.

My central contention is that the significance of water baptism in the NT arises entirely from its function as an outward expression of internal faith directed towards Jesus as he is held out in the gospel.  The physical act of being immersed in water does not in itself effect anything spiritually in or upon Christians, but rather is the external, public vehicle of confessing one’s desperate dependence upon God’s grace and commitment to following Jesus before the world.  It is likewise the moment (not the cause) in which God normally bestows salvation, forgiveness and the Spirit.  In baptism—which, crucially, takes place simultaneously with the act of believing the gospel in the NT—we symbolically enact our dying with Christ (going under the water) and our resurrection with him (coming up from the water) as new creations born of the Spirit.  Phew, that’s a mouthful.

I am constrained to issue a disclaimer with respect to the biblical argument that follows.  Just as the meaning of baptism is often a source of confusion and misunderstanding in theological discussions, the same holds true for faith.  Yet unfortunately it would seem that the definition of faith is assumed to be self-evident by many, as if all parties concerned were operating with a shared identical notion of what it means to believe in Jesus Christ.  I do not have the space today to define and defend what I think the NT writers mean by faith, but in my next post I will.  For now, I will simply state that what Calvin says about the dangers of baptismal regeneration—“Few realize how much injury the dogma that baptism is necessary for salvation, badly expounded, has entailed” (Institutes, 4.15.20)—could with equal justice be applied to the Protestant doctrine of sola fide.  The idea that sinners are saved and made right with God by “faith alone” is (I am persuaded) faithful to the apostolic witness.  Yet if faith is misunderstood or dramatically reduced from its multifaceted fullness in Scripture—that is, if “faith alone” is badly expounded—then this doctrine swiftly becomes a pernicious error and leads many to spiritual destruction.  One such error is the progressive downplaying or even the outright absence of the practice of baptism in the Church, and tragically this is not a rare fallacy among many Protestants. Yet we must keep in mind that abuse does not cancel out right use.

If you take a few moments and google “baptismal regeneration,” you will instantly regret it.  You will also happen upon hundreds of sites that offer rhetorically inflamed critiques or defenses of this position.  Virtually all of them are skubala (Phil. 3:8), if you’ll excuse my French.  These shoddy arguments can convince only those already so convinced, which is of course a productive endeavor to devote oneself to.  The most frequent line of attack from both the proponents of sola fide and those contending for the salvific efficacy of baptism is to accumulate a mountain of proof texts favorable to their position—all the passages that link either salvation to faith or that link it to baptism.  Of course, these internet apologetic gems regularly fail to mention or seriously engage with any of the passages that would seem to contend against their cause, as if the interpretation of their chosen favorites were obvious and indisputable as well as the only relevant data for consultation.  The consistent assumption would seem to be that if one set of verses associates salvation with faith (or baptism), then there is no sense in which it could likewise be connected to the other.  That is a risky—and foolish—theological assumption.

My primary goal in this post is to draw attention to a stunning pattern that is found across the entire canvas of the New Testament: namely, that both repentance/faith and baptism are consistently linked closely to 1.) the forgiveness of sins  2.) salvation  3.) dying and rising with Christ  4.) being cleansed/washed  5.) the new birth and 6.) the reception of the Holy Spirit.  Though my examination will not extend beyond these borders for now, it ought to be pointed out that each of these spiritual blessings is also frequently attributed to or grounded upon the death and resurrection of Jesus (or simply grace) in the NT, and often without any mention of human response at all (cf. Romans 5:9-10)!  Furthermore, other passages connect salvation/redemption to works (Matthew 16:27, James 2:14-26, 2 Corinthians 5:9), to the words we speak (Matthew 12:36-37), and even to childbearing (1 Timothy 2:15)!  Clearly the vision of the NT authors was far more nuanced and complex than many more simplistic theologians who inhabit the contemporary scene.  The million-dollar question, of course, is how to connect all of these insane dots.  On any reading, Bonhoeffer’s dreaded “cheap grace” is immediately ruled out.  We must also eliminate the idea that any single passage gives us the whole story.  But now on to the pertinent evidence:

FORGIVENESS (Faith: Matthew 9:2, Mark 1:4, 2:5, Acts 2:38, 8:22, 10:43, 26:18, Colossians 2:12-13, James 5:15, 1 John 1:9 / Baptism: Mark 1:4, Acts 2:38, Colossians 2:12-13)

SALVATION (Faith: Ephesians 1:13, 2:8-9, Romans 1:16-17, 10:9-13, Acts 2:21, 14:9, 15:6-11, 16:30-31, Galatians, Luke 7:50, 8:12, 17:19, I Corinthians 1:21, 15:2, 2 Thessalonians 2:13, 2 Timothy 3:15, Hebrews 6:9-12, 10:39, James 5:15, 1 Peter 1:5, 9 / Baptism: 1 Peter 3:21)…note also Mark 16:16, which is probably not authentic, but interesting for removing baptism from the negative qualification for condemnation.

DYING & RISING WITH JESUS (Faith: Colossians 2:12, Ephesians 2:4-8, Galatians 2:20 / Baptism: Colossians 2:12, Romans 6:1-4 / Unstated: Romans 7:4-6, Colossians 2:20, 3:1-4, Galatians 6:14)

CLEANSED/WASHED (Faith: Acts 15:9, 2 Peter 1:9 / Baptism: Acts 22:16, Hebrews 10:22, Ephesians 5:26(?) / Unstated: 1 Corinthians 6:11, Titus 3:5)

BORN AGAIN (Faith: John 1:12-13, I John 5:1, 4-5, I Peter 1:3-5, 23-25  / Baptism: John 3:5)

RECEIVING THE HOLY SPIRIT (Faith: John 7:39, Acts 2:38, 10:44-48, 11:17, Galatians 3:2-5, 3:14, Ephesians 1:13, 3:16-17 / Baptism: Matthew 3:11, 16, Mark 1:8, Luke 3:16, John 1:33, Acts 2:38, 19:1-7, I Corinthians 12:13)

I conclude with several observations.

First, I have already noted that slapdash assumptions have often crippled theological discussions on this theme, and we ought to be careful of making another assumption unreflectively—namely, that faith and baptism are related to salvation in the same way.  For instance, very few would argue that faith is related to redemption in the same way that, say, childbearing or our verbal speech are.  Therefore, to simply cite a passage that connects salvation or forgiveness (or whatever) to faith or baptism (or anything else) as if that solved the matter is a hasty ploy that should be rejected.  The question we must ask is “How are faith and baptism connected to these things?”  That they are both connected to them in some way is indisputable.

Second, all agree that faith comes prior to baptism in the NT.  If this is so, why would we assume that any of the saving benefits of Christ’s death are primarily associated with baptism rather than faith, either logically or temporally?  Add to this passages such as Acts 9:17-18, 10:44-48 and 11:17 where the reception of the Holy Spirit comes after faith but prior to baptism; likewise, consider Acts 8:14-17 and 19:1-6, where we see that the Spirit was poured out long after water baptism had earlier taken place (and without any actual connection to it), not simultaneous with the act.  Such “irregular” experiences have monumental implications for how we interpret “conversions” today in which the normal order of repentance/faith/baptism breaks down.

Third, I would highlight the profound emphasis on the centrality and importance of faith in the New Testament in contrast to the modest attention that is given to baptism with respect to its connection to salvation.  I acknowledge that this is ultimately an unreliable point of contention, yet it seems striking to me that for every one time baptism is connected with salvation (and rarely if ever without mention of faith in the surrounding context), it would seem that there are ten such passages that connect it to only to faith (very often with absolutely no mention of baptism present).  Simply put, it is telling that there are no passages such as Romans 4 or Hebrews 11 devoted to the importance of baptism to be found in the NT.  Should we not therefore follow suit and keep the main thing the main thing?

Fourth: On the one hand, there are a number of spiritual blessings that are only associated with faith in the NT and never with baptism.  For example, we are never said to be justified by baptism, or reconciled to God by baptism, or adopted by baptism, or redeemed by baptism (and so on).  On the other hand, nothing is ever attributed to baptism that is not also attributed to faith by the apostles.  I am struck that even the early church fathers acknowledged that there were special occasions in which someone who had come to faith, but who was not baptized, could still be saved—whether the apostles, the thief on the cross, or martyrs.  Yet I cannot imagine them making the same exception for a person who did not exercise faith in Jesus in response to the gospel during their lives.  Perhaps their biblical intuitions spoke better than their explicit statements about baptism would lead us to believe.  Faith, at the end of the day, is the absolutely essential condition for salvation.  Baptism is not.

Fifth, I would tentatively suggest three reasons—I will elaborate upon these further next time—for why we find this pattern splattered across the pages of the NT.

A.) Because repentance/faith/baptism all take place at the same time in the experience of the early Christians as recorded in the NT.  There was no temporal disconnect for them as there so often is with us, though unfortunately we often still try to plaster this pattern onto our modern experiences even when we find ourselves in a much messier situation.  That repentance from our low baptismal consciousness and unfaithful practices is called for is undeniable.  That we should apply statements about baptism in the NT which were in their original historical context only made because baptism was simultaneous with repentance and faith to situations today in which faith is not so neatly bound to baptism is singularly confused.  Consider how natural it is to point back to memorable events in our past that consisted of multiple moments and dimensions by only explicitly recalling one particular moment connected to the overall reality.  For instance, this is how we tend to recall and communicate to others how we got married:

“Becoming married involves a number of components that are intimately interrelated and belong together.  These usually include: the saying of vows; the giving and receiving of rings; the pronouncement of marriage by the minister; the signing of the marriage license by the minister and witnesses; and the sexual consummation.  If asked, ‘Which component actually resulted in becoming married?’ how should one answer this question?  Was it when you said your vows?  Was it when you gave and received a ring?  Was it when the minister pronounced you husband and wife?  Was it when the marriage license was filled in and signed by the minister and witnesses?  Was it when the sexual consummation of the marriage took place?  The answer is that all of these were involved in becoming married.  One cannot isolate them from one another.  In the normal experience of marriage all of these are involved, and all of them take place together, that is, on the same day.  It was not a single component that changed two single individuals into a married couple.  It was all of the above.  In a similar way, one does not become a Christian in Acts as the minute of faith, or the instant of repentance, or the time of profession, or the moment of baptism, or the point in time when God gave his Spirit.  These were not separated in time as in the present day but occurred together.” (Robert Stein, Believer’s Baptism, pp. 57-58)

Such certainly seems to have been the case with early Christian conversion.

B.) Because faith gives rise to all these other “conditions” for salvation in the NT.  Not faith as mere decision or subjective feeling, but faith as it truly is: radical, desperate, loyal reliance directed towards the beauty and mercy of Jesus Christ.  Such faith obeys God in whatever he commands—and such obedience includes getting baptized, doing good works, and not habitually speaking careless, harmful words (among many other things).  In Romans, Paul begins (1:5) and ends (16:26) his epic letter by stating that his overarching goal in life is to bring about “the obedience of faith” among all the nations.  Why?  Aren’t there so many other things he should be aiming at as well?  Why only “the obedience of faith”?  Simply because Paul knows that if he gets faith, then he gets everything.  All the obedience God requires of us flows out of faith in Christ.  The Reformers were incredibly in tune with the NT witness when they said that we are saved by faith alone, yet by a faith that is never alone.

C.) Because faith and baptism are related to each other as the internal and external human responses to the grace of God that is offered to us in the gospel.  They are flip sides of the same coin.  I would argue that by faith we spiritually participate in the death and resurrection of Jesus, and that in baptism we symbolically participate in the story of Jesus.  Both are crucial.  Both are central to the definition of what it means to be a Christian in the NT.  If either is absent, we should under normal circumstances not consider such a person to be a follower of Jesus.  Nonetheless being physically washed with water does not transmit an ounce of internal renovation to our hearts, nor does it efficiently or causally act as the channel of God’s saving grace to us in Christ.  Only faith does this.  For the early Christians, the primary significance of baptism was that it served as the initial, public moment in which faith in Christ was expressed.  Therefore, “baptism saves” (I Peter 3:21)—yet not with respect to the removal of dirt from our bodies (i.e. the actual rite of going down into the water), but only insofar as the moment of our baptism coincides with an appeal to God for a good conscience (i.e. faith).  Baptism saves, inasmuch as it is the external expression of faith in Jesus Christ.  No more, no less.

JOSEPH

(At several points in what follows, I characterize Nick’s arguments and beliefs in certain ways. I have sought to do so accurately, but I apologize for any mischaracterizations that may have occurred.)

We are not saved by faith. We are not saved by repentance. We are not saved by baptism.We are saved by the grace of God and the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Salvation is from God, not from us. In other words, faith, repentance, and baptism (whatever they are) are not the means of our salvation; they are the conditions under which God effects His saving work in us. (I have offered some brief thought about this distinction here).

What, then, is the role of faith or baptism in salvation? Obviously, that is a complicated question. My opinion, however, is that the biblical standard is this: The forgiveness of sins and the gift of the Holy Spirit are given to the repentant and confessing believer at the time of his baptism. (Notice that I said “standard.” What happens to someone who believes and repents but is only baptized years later? I am not sure. What happens to someone who believes and repents but is not baptized at all? I am not sure. Our God is a gracious God. The point, however, is that these situations represent deviations from the standard. Sometimes, that is okay; in fact, Nick points to what I would consider exceptional cases in the Book of Acts.)

How does my view differ from Nick’s? Nick (from what I have gathered in private correspondence with him) believes that we are saved at (or by?) faith, and that baptism is merely a later “outward expression of internal faith in Jesus in response to the gospel message.” In what follows, I would like to discuss why I believe his view to be incorrect – though admittedly much closer to mine than that of most Christians.

As Nick himself notes, both baptism and faith are associated with the forgiveness of sins, being reborn, the gift of the Holy Spirit, and other manifestations of salvation. Yet Nick wants us to believe that we are saved by faith alone, and that baptism is only a symbolic participation in Christ’s death and resurrection – even though both are clearly associated with the forgiveness of sins, and even though baptism is never described as merely symbolic in the New Testament (or in the first 1500 years of orthodox Christianity). In fact, Nick does not (and cannot) point to a single passage that says we are saved “by faith alone” or one that says baptism is only an outward expression of an inward faith. Why, then, does he believe those things?

Before I address his arguments, I have one simple point to make: I believe that baptism normally marks the time at which we receive the forgiveness of sins – but certainly not always. Nick, however, is committed to the claim that we are always saved when we come to faith – because we are saved “by faith alone.” Thus, though my view can (and does) tolerate exceptions, his cannot tolerate a single one.

With that in mind, let me turn to his main arguments:

1. “[R]epentance/faith/baptism all take place at the same time in the experience of the early Christians.”

Response: Nick’s argument largely hangs on the claim that faith, repentance, and baptism all occur simultaneously. After all, if baptism does not occur with (or soon after) faith, what the Bible says about baptism – that it is for the forgiveness of sins (Acts 2:38) or that it constitutes our participation in Jesus’ death and resurrection (Romans 6:3-4) – are simply incompatible with Nick’s view.

Now, as a matter of fact, it is not technically true that faith, repentance, and baptism our simultaneously; they occur, at best, near-simultaneously. And, in at least one case in the New Testament, they occur days apart from each other.

Consider the conversion of the Apostle Paul. Paul recounts his conversion story in Acts 9, 22, and 26. When we look at all three together, it becomes clear that Paul came to faith on the road to Damascus and was baptized three days later. Here is what happens to Paul on the road to Damascus:

· A light from Heaven blinds Saul (9:3, 22:6, 26:13).

· Saul falls to the ground and a voice says to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (9:4, 22:7, 26:14)

· Saul asks, “Who are you, Lord?” (9:5a, 22:8a, 26:15a).

· Jesus identifies himself (9:5b, 22:8b, 26:15b).

· Paul asks, “What shall I do, Lord?” (22:10a)

· Jesus says, “Now get up and stand on your feet. I have appeared to you to appoint you as a servant and as a witness of what you have seen of me and what I will show you. I will rescue you from your own people and from the Gentiles. I am sending you to them to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me” (26:15b-18).

At this point, Paul, who had literally been traveling to Damascus to hunt down Christians, has acknowledged Jesus as his Lord; by all accounts, he has faith. (Not only is this his “Come to Jesus” moment, it is Jesus’ “Come to Paul” moment.) And yet only three days later (after a period of fasting) does he receive the forgiveness of sins and the gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts 9:17, 22:16). Ananias’ words to Paul are telling: “And now what are you waiting for? Get up, be baptized and wash your sins away, calling on his name” (Acts 22:16b; emphasis added). Paul’s coming to faith and his baptism are not simultaneous – and Paul’s forgiveness of sins does not accompany his coming to faith on the road to Damascus, but his baptism three days later!

Under what circumstances would Paul ask Jesus, “Lord, what shall I do?” Only if Paul had faith could he have asked that question – the very same question the Jews asked Peter at Pentecost in Acts 2 before he told them (unsurprisingly) to repent and be baptized for the forgiveness of sins. It is clear, then, that Paul’s salvation comes days after he comes to faith – and, if that is true, then Nick’s position is no longer tenable.

Another point about the argument from simultaneity: The difference between simultaneity and near-simultaneity is not to be taken lightly. Baptism might come soon after faith, but soon after is still after. If the believer undergoing baptism is already saved when he is baptized, then the imagery surrounding baptism is anachronistic. Are we to believe, for example, that people are “truly” born again at faith and then “symbolically” re-born again later on at baptism? The fact of the matter is that Nick’s position entails that we are saved before we are baptized, while mine does not – but hardly anything that the Bible says about baptism makes sense if we are already saved when we are baptized. Is it not must simpler to simply let the Scriptures mean what they plainly mean?

Paul’s conversion alone is sufficient to convince me that Nick is wrong and that salvation is decidedly not by faith alone. Nevertheless, I will address the rest of his arguments:

2. Faith is more emphasized than baptism in the New Testament.

Response: I hardly can deny the greater emphasis placed on faith in the New Testament. However, there is a perfectly natural explanation for this: Faith, unlike baptism, is something we must practice our entire Christian lives. Once I have been baptized, there is nothing more for me to do with regards to my baptism, but everything more for me to do with regards to my faith. Since the New Testament is written to baptized Christians whose struggle was not maintaining their baptism (baptism is not something we can “maintain”) but maintaining their faith, it is hardly surprising that faith is more discussed more in the New Testament.

3. “[A]ll agree that faith comes prior to baptism in the NT.  If this is so, why would we assume that any of the saving benefits of Christ’s death are primarily associated with baptism rather than faith, either logically or temporally?”

Response: I see no reason why the mere temporal priority of faith indicates that it is more spiritually efficacious.

4. “Add to this passages such as Acts 9:17-18, 10:44-48 and 11:17 where the reception of the Holy Spirit comes after faith but prior to baptism; likewise, consider Acts 8:14-17 and 19:1-6, where we see that the Spirit was poured out long after water baptism had earlier taken place, not simultaneous with the act.”

Response: As I mentioned earlier, I readily accept that baptism does not always mark the point in time at which someone is saved. These are not problematic because the many Scriptures that speak about baptism, not in specific instances, but as a general practice – such as John 3, Acts 2 (in which Peter indicates that the promise of baptism for the forgiveness of sins is “for all who are far off”), and Romans 6 – are not ambiguous.In case this brief sweep of the issue does not satisfy, let me examine the specific passages more closely:

a) Paul’s Conversion (Acts 9:17-18): I hardly consider this to be an exception! Rather than supposing that Paul came to faith, then received the Holy Spirit, and then was baptized (and washed his sins away), we can suppose simply that Paul came to faith on the road to Damascus and then was baptized for the forgiveness of his sins and the gift of the Holy Spirit. (Matthew 3, Mark 1, Luke 3, John 3, Acts 1, and Acts 2 – among others – all connect baptism to the Holy Spirit.)

b) The Conversion of the First Gentile Disciples (Acts 10:44-48, 11:17): I am content to treat this as an exception from the rule for an exceptional circumstance, the time of the proclamation of the gospel to the Gentiles. Just as Pentecost was a singular event, this Gentile Pentecost was singular; the miraculous pouring out of the Spirit and the speaking in languages are obviously not normal markers of conversion events. (There is a lot more to be said about this event – specifically, about the Holy Spirit and how it was poured out in Acts – which I do not feel qualified to say.)

c) The Conversion of the First Samarian Disciples (Acts 8:14-17): This passage delves into the question of laying on hands, another subject about which I do not feel qualified to speak. However, this passage undercuts Nick’s position much more than mine! Here we have people who had come to faith and yet had not received the Holy Spirit – the guarantee of our salvation (2 Corinthians 1:21-22). Whatever the truth about salvation is, then, it certainly cannot be that we are saved by faith alone.

d) The Case of John’s Disciples in Corinth (Acts 19:1-6): It is no problem for me to accept that John’s baptism was not as spiritually efficacious as baptism into the name of Jesus.

5. “On the one hand, there are a number of spiritual blessings that are only associated with faith in the NT and never with baptism.  For example, we are never said to be justified by baptism, or reconciled to God by baptism, or adopted by baptism, or redeemed by baptism (and so on). On the other hand, nothing is ever attributed to baptism that is not also attributed to faith by the apostles.”

Response: I agree that there are spiritual blessings associated only with faith and not with baptism. I agree that there is a sense in which faith is “more important” than baptism; baptism without faith is empty and pointless, but faith without baptism definitely counts for something. Furthermore, even if Nick is correct that “nothing is ever attributed to baptism that is not also attributed to faith,” this does not count against what I believe, because I have never contended that baptism without faith has ever meant anything at all.

Nonetheless, I am not convinced that Nick is correct in his assertion that “nothing is ever attributed to baptism that is not also attributed to faith,” simply because some of the imagery associated with baptism is not ever associated with faith. Ananias says, “[B]e baptized and wash your sins away” (Acts 22:16b); no one in the New Testament says, “Believe and wash your sins away.” Washing, in fact, is much more strongly associated with baptism than with faith. Similarly, the two passages which most vividly describe our death and resurrection with Christ (Colossians 2 and Romans 6) emphasize baptism more than faith; moreover, when Colossians 2 does mention faith, it suggests that faith works after baptism; we die by baptism and are (afterwards) raised by faith.

6. “For the early Christians, the primary significance of baptism was that it served as the initial, public moment in which faith in Christ was expressed.”

Response: I am simply not sure what evidence there is to support this conclusion. As far as I can tell, it is true only for modern Evangelicals, not the early Christians.

7. “Therefore, “baptism saves” (I Peter 3:21)—yet not with respect to the removal of dirt from our bodies (i.e. the actual rite of going down into the water), but only insofar as the moment of our baptism coincides with an appeal to God for a good conscience (i.e. faith).”

Response: Here and in several parts of Nick’s argument, there seems to be an implicit assumption that baptism cannot be spiritually efficacious because it is physical. Whatever we say about baptism, we cannot say that it is spiritually inert simply because it is physical – for we are very much saved by Jesus’ physical death on the cross and physical resurrection. As far as 1 Peter 3, I have a few observations:

a) As I have demonstrated, baptism cannot be reduced to something which coincides with faith.

b) Just as the Flood saved the eight people in Noah’s Ark – just as the waters of the flood separated the eight from the sinfulness of the rest of mankind – so baptism separates us from our sin.

c) Peter’s main point seems to be that baptism saves – that is exactly what he says – and that the cleansing we experience in baptism is not physical. (Peter may be distinguishing Christian baptism from Jewish purification rituals.)

I believe I have now addressed the bulk of Nick’s arguments. I pray that I have not fallen into the trap of overreaction which he highlighted in his opening paragraph. Though the bulk of what I \have written has constituted a response to Nick, much of my response has also entailed positive formulations of what I believe. (I have written about baptism before here at The Fish Tank in a form that was not so clearly a response to a certain argument.) To avoid being overly repetitive, then, I conclude only with a brief summary of my argument and position:

If we understand the Bible’s claims about baptism straightforwardly, we see that the moment of baptism – not the moment of coming to faith – generally marks the forgiveness of our sins and our reception of the Holy Spirit. The Bible says that baptism saves (1 Peter 3:21); it says that baptism is “for the forgiveness of sins” (Acts 2:38); it says that baptism washes our sins away (Acts 22:16); it says that we must be born of water and the Spirit to be born again (John 3:5); it says that we are saved “through the washing of rebirth” (Titus 3:5); it says that we were “buried with [Christ] through baptism into death in order that … we too may live a new life” (Romans 6:4). The plain reading of these passages is that baptism does, in fact, do something spiritually. (How do I know that this is the plain reading? Because the Church Fathers, whose views on other matters often diverged sharply, unanimously agreed with me.)

Now, the plain reading of Scripture is not always the end of the matter – but I see no compelling reason to reject a plain reading of scriptures about baptism. What the Bible says about baptism simply makes no sense if baptism is merely a symbol that comes after we are saved through faith.

My final thought is like my first: Baptism is just a physical ritual – and faith is just a human response. What ultimately matters is the cross and God’s grace. As the old hymn says, “What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.”

Based on discussion in the comments of the most recent edition of Nick’s discussion of baptism with me, I thought it would be worthwhile to clarify what exactly I take the role of the Church Fathers to be in understanding what the New Testament teaches about baptism.

In beginning the first non-introductory post in the series with a discussion about the early Church Fathers, I did not mean to suggest that they are more important than (or even on a par with) the New Testament; put simply, I did not mean to suggest that they are, in and of themselves, authoritative in any way. When it comes to baptism, the New Testament, not the Church Fathers, is the authority.

Why, then, did I begin the debate with a discussion about the Church Fathers? My primary reasons were twofold:

1. My beliefs about baptism separate me from the vast majority of Christendom. Hundreds of millions of people – many of whom self-identify as Evangelicals or non-denominational Christians – either consider baptism to be a merely symbolic ritual or do not even practice baptism at all. Most of the other hundreds of millions of Christians practice infant baptism. Those of us who (like me) believe that baptism is for believers (i.e., not infants) and is for the forgiveness of sins are incredibly outnumbered.

Thus, it is easy for someone from a typical Evangelical background to hear about my opinions regarding baptism and dismiss it as a hopeless minority view. After all, fifty million (or more) Evangelicals can’t be wrong.

The fact of the matter, however, is that the earliest Christians near-unanimously agreed with me that baptism was more than an external, symbolic gesture. And keeping this in mind will (I hope) mitigate our modern prejudices as we seek the truth about baptism.

2. Nick and I agree that the New Testament is the relevant authority for our discussion; what we disagree about is what this authority actually tells us. And, in attempting to understand what the New Testament says about baptism, I think the Church Fathers are a useful – and oft-overlooked – resource.

Suppose that a friend of mine and I both believe that Jack Bauer is the Son of God, and that we should do whatever he says. We each read The Book of Bauer religiously (literally) to learn more about what Jack’s Word tells us to do.

At some point, my friend and I come to a somewhat difficult passage in The Book of Bauer and disagree about how to interpret it properly. My friend believes that Jack teaches x, while I believe that Jack teaches not-x.

Suppose that my friend and I subsequently discover that all the historical evidence indicates that Jack’s earliest followers – removed from him only by fifty to one hundred years – all believed that Jack taught x. There is more, of course, to be said about what Jack actually taught – but, all else being equal, the unanimity of Jack’s earliest followers about x gives us very good reason to believe that Jack taught x.

I believe that the situation with baptism is analogous. I do not think that the Church Fathers were infallible by any stretch of the imagination. However, as a matter of history, I think that the universal assent of the earliest non-canonical Christian writings – some of which (such as the Epistle of Barnabas) may have been written before certain parts of the New Testament itself – about baptism should give us pause.

As a general historical rule, I think we can say the following about change in doctrine (whether the doctrine be Christian, Muslim, Marxist, or Aristotelian):

a) It is more likely to occur gradually, over a long period of time.

b) It is more likely to be accepted only by parts of the community in question, not by the whole community..

c) It is more likely to occur at the periphery of the doctrine, not at the center.

If Nick is right about baptism, however, then we witness in the early Church a doctrinal shift that appears to shatter all these historical norms – a doctrinal shift that was (if he is right) abrupt (taking place within decades) and universal, concerning an elementary teaching of the Christian faith (Hebrews 6.1-2).

These characteristics of the alleged doctrinal shift lead me to believe that there was not, in fact, any such doctrinal shift, and that Nick is wrong to attribute any systematic error regarding baptism to the Church Fathers.

Of course, the Church Fathers may have been wrong about baptism, so I intend to show that my beliefs about baptism are ultimately rooted, not in them, but in the New Testament. That, however, will have to wait until Monday.

So, why mess with Texas? Because Texas is the largest textbook distributor in the U.S., publishing companies tend to tailor their textbooks to Texas’ standards. Thus, the curriculum decisions made in Texas affect not only the students in that state, but almost all children in American public schools (one educator quoted in the article said that Texas “controlled” up to forty-seven states’ curricula). The biggest issue of contention is the board’s attempt to inject Christian doctrine into large parts of American history textbooks, to the point where one school board member commented, “Guys, you’re rewriting history now!” Led by Don McLeroy, the school board head and the most outspoken Christian activist in that political body, the Texas School Board seems well on its way to putting Christianity back into American textbooks and restructuring the way an entire generation of schoolchildren understands American history.

Jabs at Christianity and political conservatism aside, the New York Times article brings up some challenging questions for American Christians. Though America definitely has a Christian history (the Pilgrims brought Christianity with them from England, the Founding Fathers were Christian, and one spark in the Revolution was tension over English religious oppression), at what point does searching and teaching history become evangelizing? When does the Christian cry for “the truth” actually distort “truth” itself?

Though I think McLeroy’s attempt to put Christianity back in the textbooks is a legitimate and partially well-intentioned one, what I, as a Christian, have a problem with is how far he’s taken it. I wonder how his attempt to rewrite American history (and, yes, a large portion of his amendments blatantly rewrite our history with a historically unfounded religious bent) affects our faith. I can’t help but question how rewriting an entire curriculum will win more people over to the Christian cause. Even if Christianity is written into textbooks, it will become more about fact and less about faith. Won’t the effect of the new curriculum be that an entire generation learn about Christianity as a historical fact rather than a plausible system of beliefs and life guidelines? Is that really what Christians want?

The biggest problem that I have with McLeroy’s form of evangelism is that it doesn’t really educate people about Christianity itself; though the textbook revisions may or may not prove that this country was founded on Christian principles, or that America is a Christian country that exists for the glory of God, changing history books does not further the Christian cause. Telling someone that John Adams was a Christian does not make a convert. Neither does making false references and connections to Mosaic law (even as a Christian, I can’t help but wonder where that proposal came from).  Christians are commanded to actively share their religion, but I doubt that “sharing” means doing so by ignoring scholarly advice and research and manhandling history into a small group’s idea of the Christian universe. Christians have nothing to gain by deceiving people; should the school board turn more politically and religiously liberal in the next few decades, these changes could come back to haunt us. Christianity’s crusade would be powerless, its newfound enemies using the immoral and deceitful acts of a few to falsely characterize Christianity as a corruptive force and a significant source of deceit for an entire generation.

In the end, Shorto did concede that most of the amendments didn’t pass, and that the curriculum in its final form was much more moderate than he expected. However, he remained concerned about what was happening behind closed doors, as he reported that McLeroy and Co. continue to communicate with publishing companies and revise sections of the voted-upon curriculum that they still find “morally objectionable.” What is ironic is how “morally objectionable” has come to describe McLeroy; his zeal for evangelism and his misguided means have led him to the heart of the political and moral corruption that his new curriculum hopes to cure.

With God all things are possible. I hear this phrase repeated quite frequently, but what exactly is so profound about it? Even the God that atheists reject can do anything. God is God, after all.

I suppose a God who can do anything is pretty awesome considering that the God of the Bible is a personal and loving God who “works for the good of those who love him” (Rom. 8:28). Imagine that. God is my friend and will work on my behalf. This is true. The fact that God loves us combined with his ultimate sovereignty creates a deep sense of peace, a “peace that transcends all understanding” simply because we can’t imagine what it would be like to be omnipotent and perfectly loving. Yes, it is so great having almighty God on our side.

And so we start asking for things. We pray to God for improbable things to happen. We ask for stuff we know we probably cannot have, clinging to the hope that there is a chance God will provide. If one day God actually does, we take it as a confirmation of our faith and go on to love and serve the Lord with fervor, knowing that He can and did provide. Knowing that our personal God can do anything becomes so intoxicating, so reassuring. How will I be able to survive without a job? With God all things are possible. Will I be able to get into my dream school even with my grades? With God all things are possible. I’m in a generically difficult situation in which all seems hopeless, but (in a stirring preacher voice), with God all things are possible.

Could God make this window?

Clearly there is something off, but what? God is great. God promises to work for our good. He promises this peace. We feel this peace, it’s great. God has indeed worked in our lives in amazing ways. Faith is important. We ought to rely on God for our daily bread.

The problem arises when we start to decide what we need, what should be done, what should be considered amazing. Perhaps knowing that God can do anything becomes expecting that God will do anything, an expectation contingent upon what we think we need God to do. We limit our understanding of Matthew 19:26 to merely “God can do stuff.”

What happens if we don’t get what we want?

The greatest miracle ever is our salvation. “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” is the answer to the question “Who then can be saved?” It is not the answer to “Will I be able to get a pony for Christmas?” Matthew 19:16-30 is the about the rich young man asking Jesus what it takes to enter the kingdom of heaven. That man has wealth, youth, upstanding character. He’s a man who today we would probably consider successful and respectable by all measures. The “impossible” that Jesus says God can do is the giving up of all of that. The “impossible” is that man having the strength and incentive to to sell his possessions and follow Jesus.

The “impossible” here is a process of humbling, a process of recognizing the value in unseen heavenly things, to see just how great Jesus is. When God does the “impossible,” He draws us closer to him by allowing us to let go of things that we think are important. He gives us faith and convinces us to stop asking for ponies and start asking for Jesus. He fixes our eyes on what is eternal. He gives even the richest a reason to follow Christ. Jesus did all of this on the Cross, doing the “impossible” by bridging the infinite divide between us and God.

We don’t need to ask for more blessings, but rather strength and wisdom to find the things in our lives that prevent us from following Jesus more closely. If anything, being rich is a spiritually disadvantageous position. Heaven is worth so much more than a beach house, but the beach house is awfully distracting. Jesus encourages his disciples, who have given up everything to follow Him, “I tell you the truth, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.” Jesus also talks of other glories like receiving back a hundred times what has been left behind and having eternal life. That’s what we should be striving for. God doing the impossible is so much bigger than getting into a school or financial security or a nice car.

Here at Harvard, a center of concentrated worldly wealth of all sorts, I don’t want utilize all these resources to maximize my future success. I don’t even want say that I’m here to maximize my future success to glorify God, because that would almost put me in a position of deciding how to best glorify God. Instead of doing all I can for God, I should be giving up all I can for more of God. For me, it’s a subtle but significant change in attitude. I want to God to show that even in this place of wealth, He can do the impossible and graciously give a rich young man the strength to give up everything and follow Jesus.

JOSEPH

[UPDATE: Following the publication of this post, I realized that I may have not been as clear in my argument as I would have liked. I have sought to clarify my argument here.]

Our objective in this series is to determine what the Church’s understanding and practice of baptism should be. For me (and, I think, for Nick), this essentially means determining what the Church’s understanding and practice of baptism originally were. Our project, therefore, is a fundamentally historical one.

It should come as no surprise, then, that Nick and I disagree about the theology of baptism present in the New Testament. And, indeed, I will admit that there is (some) room for reasonable disagreement concerning the New Testament’s theology of baptism.

As far as I can tell, however, there is no room for disagreement regarding the early Church’s theology of baptism. I am no historian, and my word is far from final, but virtually everything I have ever read on the subject leads me to the following bold conclusion: Between the writing of the New Testament and the Reformation, all Orthodox Christians believed baptism to be for the forgiveness of sins, marking the point in time at which (under normal circumstances) a new believer passed over from death to life.(Under normal circumstances because the early Christians may have allowed for certain exceptions for, say, martyrs.)

Thus, the Epistle of Barnabas (c. AD 70-130) says , “[W]e indeed descend into the water full of sins and defilement, but come up, bearing fruit in our heart, having the fear [of God] and trust in Jesus in our spirit.” Justin Martyr (AD 100-165) writes , “As many are are persuaded and believe that what we teach and say is true … are instructed to pray and to entreat God with fasting, for the remission of their sins that are past… Then they are brought by us where there is water, and are regenerated in the same manner in which we were ourselves regenerated.” And Irenæus asserts (c. AD 180), “And when we come to refute [the heretics], we shall show in its fitting-place, that this class of men have been instigated by Satan to a denial of that baptism which is regeneration to God, and thus to a renunciation of the whole faith.”

What are we to do with this, the voices of men who lived mere decades after the apostles? There are, in my mind, two main recourses: We can either accept or reject the testimony of these Church Fathers as a faithful witness to apostolic doctrine. If we accept it, our historical picture is simple: The apostles taught that baptism was for the forgiveness of sins, and their earliest followers continued in what they had been taught. If, on the other hand, we reject their testimony, we must provide some explanation for how such a great discrepancy emerged so immediately between apostolic and patristic theology of baptism.

Unfortunately, I have never seen such a plausible explanation offered. Nor do I see how one could be offered – there would be too many factors running against it. I briefly consider three below:

1. Baptism is not a doctrine, but a practice. As such, the question of what baptism was could never have been far out of sight for the early Church. It is conceivable( to me, at least) that Paul may not have had a systematic doctrine of the Trinity; baptism, however, was an elementary teaching about which he and the rest of the apostles surely had a set opinion. Therefore, if the earliest Christians were incorrect in their theology of baptism, they were incorrect with respect to a matter that was elementary  (Hebrews 6.1-2), practical, and (by all accounts) central to Christian faith.

2. We see no indication of a gradual deviation from apostolic teaching regarding baptism, nor any evidence that there ever was a distinct “Regenerationist” sect (for example) known for its minority view on baptism. But, if we know anything about change in religious communities, we know that it tends not to be abrupt and universal. Thus, if a change in theology of baptism did occur between the 1st and 2nd centuries AD, it was an aberrational one.

3. The amount of time between the composition of the New Testament and the composition of the patristic writings cited here is minimal; in fact, the Epistle of Barnabas may have been written before certain parts of the New Testament. (To put things in perspective, the Church Fathers in question lived centuries before the Nicene Creed.) Again, if we know anything about change in religious communities, we know that it takes time; thus, if a change in theology of baptism did occur between the 1st and 2nd centuries AD, it was a remarkably rapid one.

Regarding baptism, then, it seems that the burden of proof lies squarely on the shoulders of the one who would go against the earliest patristic tradition and say that baptism is merely symbolic or that salvation is by faith alone. For my part, I rejoice in being surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12.1).

Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for collecting art. Together they traveled all around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others adorned the walls of the family estate. The widowed father looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. But the day came when war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram that his beloved son had been killed while carrying a fellow soldier to a medic. On Christmas morning a knock came at the door of the old man’s home, and as he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, “I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he was killed. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you. I’m an artist,” said the soldier, “and I want to give you this…” As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of his son. Though the art critics would never consider the work a piece of genius, the painting did feature the young man’s face in striking detail, and seemed to capture his personality. The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation! According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned. The day soon arrived, and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world’s most spectacular paintings. The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum’s list. It was the painting of the man’s son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. “Who will open the bidding with $100?” he asked. Minutes passed with not a sound from those who came to buy. From the back of the room someone sarcastically called out, “Who cares about that painting? It’s just a picture of his son. Let’s forget it and go on to the important paintings.” There were other voices which echoed in agreement. But the auctioneer replied, “No, we have to sell this one first. Now, who will take the son?” Finally, a friend of the old man spoke … “I knew the boy, so I’d like to have it. I will bid the $100.” “I have a bid for $100,” called the auctioneer. “Will anyone go higher?” And after a long silence, the auctioneer said, “Going once. Going twice. Sold. The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone was heard to say, “Now we can get on with it!” But the auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, “What do you mean it’s over? We didn’t come here for a picture of some old guy’s son. What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of art here! We demand that you explain what’s going on!” The auctioneer replied, “It’s very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son… gets it all.”

How often do we place our worth in our own selves: our actions, our thoughts, our own abilities? We join Bible studies, read books on selfishness, joy, peace, kindness, the list goes on and on…And by no means am I saying these are unimportant, but in the process we often forget the substance of our faith and spend all of our time complaining about the faith we wish we could have.

“I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.” ~Galatians 2:20

We are to live NOW, even in our flesh. Notice that is says that we “live by the faith OF the Son of God.” It is his faith; it is his worthiness. We have inherited the incredible love that God has for his son. Let’s start living like it. He has promised us the unfathomable, if we would just remember one simple thing. Whoever takes the son, gets it all.

It is hard for me to pick just one aspect of George Herbert as a poet to explore here—his unparalleled visions of the love of God (“Love III”), his full appreciation of what it means to give your life away for Christ (“The Pearl”), his joy in God’s love (“The Call”). But perhaps the side of Herbert that is most unexpected is his frank confession of his doubts. He does not hesitate to write poems complaining about God’s treatment, even railing against God; “Love Unknown” is a particularly wry expression of this, “The Flower” an especially poignant.

The window commemorating George Herbert at St. Andrew's, his last parish

But “The Collar” is the most violent and perhaps the most striking expression of rage towards God. It begins,

Herbert is done: done with serving God without reward, done with giving up the delights of life, done with chaining himself with laws and duties. He is sick of the “cold dispute / of what is fit, and not” (20), and sick of the “cage, / [the] rope of sands, / which petty thoughts have made” (21-23). He feels as I suspect most Christians have felt: tired almost to death of the heavy load that makes up the Christian life.

But Herbert does not end the poem on this note of anger against God. Nor does he end with a theological explanation of why suffering is good for the soul, or why the path toward God can seem hard. Instead, he takes a sudden step back from himself at the very height of his complaint:

This is the end of the poem. Herbert’s arguments against God are unanswerable, and so he doesn’t try to answer them. Instead, he lets God answer them—not by debate or explanation, but by asserting a relationship. What Herbert needs is not a logical counter to his accusations, but a gentle reminder of just what the situation is. Within the wild, lawless torrent of emotions, it seems sensible to cast off the bonds of discipline and service. However, God is a father, not just a master. When God calls to Herbert with the gentleness of love, Herbert responds. When we feel the same anger towards God, we can remember this poem, and hope. George Herbert was a real man, with real struggles; but God reached into his life, and calmed his raging heart. God will do the same for us, if we will but listen for his call.