Category Archives: Devotional/Practical

Three Trails to Traditionalism: What Evangelicals Are Running From and Running To . . . and Why

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ThreePathsBack in the 1990s, when I was a student at a conservative evangelical Bible College, one of my fellow students shocked many in the student body (and alarmed several professors) when he announced that he was becoming Greek Orthodox.

This confused me.

Weren’t Orthodox Christians just Greek-speaking Catholics without a pope? Didn’t they pray to saints and worship Mary? And their worship! Didn’t they kiss icons, sniff incense, sprinkle holy water, and rattle off irrelevant prayers and creeds that had nothing to do with either the Bible or real life? Why in the world would anybody convert to that?

Then I heard about a free church evangelical who became Anglican—still Protestant, of course, but it made me wonder what would motivate a person to make such a drastic change in doctrine, church order, and worship style. Then I heard about a Baptist who converted to Roman Catholicism, leaving Protestantism completely behind. Surely this had to be some kind of sign of the end times!

However, before too long I learned that many Low Church or free church Protestants had left what they regarded as evangelical “wilderness wanderings” to follow the “Roman Road,” the “Way to Constantinople,” or (for those who desired to remain within the Protestant tradition while restoring a liturgical worship) the “Canterbury Trail.” Those who couldn’t take such radical steps into a High Church community sometimes ended up in more traditional conservative Protestant denominations like the Presbyterians or Lutherans. Over and over again I kept running into more examples like these: men and women leaving the open fields of free roaming evangelicalism for the gated gardens of a clearly defined denomination.

Naturally, I was curious about why anybody would go from Southern Baptist to Eastern Orthodox, from Lutheran to Roman Catholicism, or from an Evangelical Free church to an Episcopal church. As a young believer who was perfectly happy in my evangelical subculture, these radical departures seemed inexplicable.

Through the years, though, I discovered that these conversions were not isolated cases. Rather, they represented a widespread movement, especially among younger evangelicals, away from free church and Low Church communities toward more traditional High Church denominations. In order to better understand this trend, I began to discuss these conversions with the converts themselves and to read books and articles on the phenomenon. As I did, I discovered that these converts tended to fall into one of three categories:

1. Aversion-Driven Converts

2. Attraction-Driven Converts

3. Preference-Driven Converts

Let me briefly explain each of these motivations and then explain some basic problems within evangelicalism that need to be addressed. (This essay merely introduces the “what’s” and “why’s” . . . the “what do we do now?” question is answered more fully in the book, RetroChristianity.)

Aversion-Driven Converts

The aversion-driven converts are those who simply have had enough of Low Church, free church, or no-church evangelicalism. Frustrated with the “anything goes” instability of their evangelical megachurches or megachurch wannabes, some just can’t stomach the ever-shifting sands upon which their churches seem to be built. Or they have endured just too many church coups, splits, or hostile takeovers to continue appreciating the “who’s in charge here anyway?” debates within their independent congregations. Or they’ve “had it up to here” with the stifling legalism and heartless dogmatism of their fundamentalist upbringing. In other words, their motivation to convert to a stable, well-defined, traditional denomination has more to do with what they’re running from than what they’re running to.

The problem with this kind of conversion, however, is simply this: reaction against something—even if that something is bad—is no way to make a wise choice for something. It’s no wonder that many of these aversion-driven converts become dissatisfied with their destination tradition and end up reacting even to that! Lesson learned: if you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’ll never find it.

Attraction-Driven Converts

The attraction-driven converts are completely different. They don’t start with any particularly serious problem with their current evangelical churches. Instead, their entrée into the traditional, historical denominations comes more gradually. The attraction-driven converts claim to arrive at “the Historic Christian Faith,” or to discover “the One True Church,” or to happen upon “the Holy Tradition” either by accident or by careful investigation. As they explore these churches more deeply, they become disillusioned with their historically shallow evangelical background while coming to believe that the traditional denomination has a greater continuity with ancient and historical orthodoxy. They conclude, then, that their Protestant evangelical tradition is really a Johnny-come-lately at best or a devilish usurper at worst. These converts then claim that they were compelled to forsake their evangelical tradition because of their study of church history.

The problem with this approach, however, is that those who claim to have found the one true church through the study of the ancient church often have no idea how to study church history. Rather than engaging in a so-called objective exploration of the facts of church history, they are often unwittingly fed a particular version of church history that just so happens to favor a particular tradition.

Preference-Driven Converts

Finally, the preference-driven converts are motivated not by the ills of evangelicalism or the merits of classic Christian denominations, but by personal preferences regarding worship. I’ve heard numerous friends, colleagues, and students tell me they switched to a High Church or non-Protestant tradition because they “like the liturgy.” They love traditional forms of worship such as lighting candles, offering incense, reciting creeds, partaking of weekly Eucharist, observing the Christian calendar, or some other element of worship completely missing or outright rejected by many evangelical churches. Thus, their decision to convert to a liturgical church was more about adopting a worship style that felt more authentic, appealed to their sense of mystery, engaged their senses, or made them feel connected to a broader and deeper historical faith than their narrow and shallow evangelical churches. In the final analysis, they have nothing against Baptists and Bible churches, but those less formal ways of worship just aren’t for them.

The problem with the preference-driven converts is that they often make their decisions in an extremely me-centered, consumerist fashion. They’re less concerned about content and more concerned with contentment. They’re less interested in fact and more interested in feeling. Though they opt out of the typical external forms of the evangelical subculture, they do so in a very typical evangelical way—through individualistic personal preference!

While I sympathize with many of the concerns shared by those who have chosen to travel the trails toward traditionalism, it seems that many have abandoned their evangelical heritage far too hastily and unwisely, driven by emotion, ignorance, or unquestioned assumptions about Scripture, history, and theology. On the other hand, we need to understand why many evangelicals are driven away from their evangelical heritage or attracted to other traditions. I believe the answer is simple. Despite its strengths, there are severe problems with contemporary evangelicalism that are reaching a point of crisis.

Why does evangelicalism appear to be spinning out of control, losing appeal to younger generations, dwindling in numbers, or selling out to pop culture to muster a crowd? Where is evangelicalism headed? What can we do about it? In my book, RetroChristianity: Reclaiming the Forgotten Faith and at the companion website, www.retrochristianity.com, my goal has been to challenge evangelicals to begin thinking both critically and constructively about history and how it informs our current beliefs, values, and practices. However, unlike many attempts to change the present by looking to the past, this approach also begins exploring practical ways for both individuals and churches to apply its principles today. Arguing that the way forward is to draw on the wisdom of the whole Christian past, RetroChristianity not only points out the trailhead of the biblical, historical, and theological path, but it supplies provisions for the journey without forsaking the healthy developments that have benefited Christianity along the way.

RetroChristianity doesn’t naively defend evangelicalism as if everything were just fine. As I review the history and survey the current landscape of modern evangelicalism, I conclude that things are in pretty bad shape and are likely to get worse. However, I don’t believe the retreat into traditionalism is the necessary or most beneficial response—though it is certainly the easiest.

RetroChristianity fully acknowledges the frustrating and upsetting elements of evangelicalism. However, we can’t afford to simply whine about the flaws of the evangelical movement. We need to provide directions for addressing these problems, resting firmly on biblical, theological, and historical foundations. This will help us respond appropriately to extremes within evangelicalism and contribute to its improvement rather than its destruction.

RetroChristianity also acknowledges the egocentric nature of many evangelicals’ approaches to church and spirituality. We need to counter the preference-driven mentality rampant among so many churches, replacing it with a more biblical, historical, and theological framework through which we can make informed decisions regarding doctrine, practice, and worship. This will help us wisely balance the vital elements of church, worship, ministry, and spirituality, avoiding excesses, extremes, distractions, and distortions.

In short, I believe that careful biblical, theological, and historical reflection should make us better evangelicals, not former evangelicals.

 

[Excerpted and adapted from the introduction RetroChristianity: Reclaiming the Forgotten Faith (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012), pp. 17–21. Available now at Amazon, ChristianBook.com, Westerminster Bookstore.]

Why Seminary? (Why Not?)

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SeminaryAs a seminary professor, I’m often asked why anybody would want or need graduate-level studies devoted to biblical, theological, historical, and practical training in preparation for Christian ministry (a.k.a. “seminary”). Most of the time, this question springs from a genuine curiosity or interest in seminary studies. But other times the inquiry betrays the underlying assumption that seminary is both unnecessary and unhelpful (or sometimes even dangerous).

Sometimes I hear people say things like, “Well, the disciples never went to seminary. They were just simple blue-collar tradesmen without any doctrinal or practical training. Therefore, seminary isn’t necessary.” This objection is pretty easy to dismiss. The disciples weren’t uneducated, self-trained, amateurs. Actually, they had three years of twenty-four/seven first-hand teaching and side-by-side experience in the presence of the God-Man, Jesus Christ. If you had that kind of training, I’d excuse you from seminary. In fact, I’d trade in my own Bible college degree, Master of Theology diploma, and Ph.D. for those three unaccredited years at the feet of the Savior.

Other times people say, “Mega-church Pastor So-and-So doesn’t have any seminary training, and he has a successful and fruitful ministry; therefore, seminary isn’t helpful.” I have two answers for this objection.  First, larger numbers and bigger budgets don’t mean the untrained celebrity pastor is “successful” in God’s eyes. All too often I see teachings and practices in the ministries of such untrained pastors that reveal an ignorance of central gospel truths, theological imbalance, or pragmatically-driven ministry models. Be careful how you define and identify “successful and fruitful ministry.” Second, just imagine how much more successful and fruitful a sufficiently-trained pastor might be with the same gifts!

Occasionally I have people who scoff at seminary, claiming to be self-taught Bible students who want or need no formal instruction. They have an underlying distrust and even animosity toward formal training—“Seminary is dangerous!” They believe biblical scholars and theologians have no advantage in reading, interpreting, and teaching God’s Word. Sometimes they think seminary training just complicates a person’s simple faith. Or occasionally they appeal to the Holy Spirit as their only teacher, usually appealing to 1 John 2:27. To this train of thought, I respond with the following six points. First, it’s usually only those who don’t have quality seminary training who are convinced they don’t need it. But how would they know whether they could benefit from something they’ve never had? Second, if “a pupil is not above his teacher” (Luke 6:40), then those who are self-taught will never rise above their own idiosyncrasies. Simply put, people who are self-taught haven’t had qualified teachers. Third, Paul encouraged the Corinthian believers, “Do not be children in your thinking. Be infants in evil, but in your thinking be mature” (1 Cor. 14:20).  And the author of Hebrews castigated his readers for being “dull of hearing,” remaining children in their knowledge, requiring somebody to re-teach them the basic principles of the faith when they should actually be teachers (Heb. 5:11–14). Clearly, he expected them to continue to learn and grow in their knowledge beyond infancy and simplicity. Fifth, Peter warned that those who are “untaught” (the Greek term literally means those who have not received formal teaching) were more likely to twist the Scriptures to their own destruction (2 Pet. 3:16). The corollary to this is that those who have received formal training are less likely to be unstable in their doctrine and less likely to twist Scripture into a doctrinal hang-man’s noose. Finally, nobody should deny that the ultimate teacher of truth is the Holy Spirit. However, the Holy Spirit carries out His teaching ministry by gifting teachers in the church, whose responsibility it is to teach believers (Rom. 12:7; 1 Cor. 12:28–29; Gal. 6:6; Eph. 4:11; 1 Tim. 3:2; 4:13, 16; 5:17; 2 Tim. 2:2, 24; 4:2; Heb. 5:12; Jas. 3:1).

So, if there aren’t compelling arguments against seminary training, what positive benefits are gained through seminary? Why should those called to Christian ministry go through a graduate program of biblical, theological, historical, and practical training? Why would we spend all that time, money, and energy on a two-to-four (or more) year course of study? If we aren’t going to get a degree to make more money or to be inspired to live a better Christian life . . . why would we endure seminary studies? To answer the “Why Seminary?” question, let me use the analogy of home improvement.  A complete seminary program equips believers for faithful and fruitful ministry by: 1) cleaning out doctrinal junk, 2) rearranging doctrinal furniture, 3) remodeling doctrinal structures, and 4) firming up doctrinal foundations.

First, a quality seminary education will successfully clean out doctrinal junk. If you’ve ever watched Hoarders, you know that those with a hoarding disorder always need outside help. They have completely lost the ability to discern between what to keep versus what to throw . . . what’s healthy and beneficial versus what’s unhealthy and damaging. Only a person with an objective perspective who lives outside the home can see what the hoarder can’t—that they have accrued unnecessary, useless, worthless, and sometimes even unhealthy and dangerous junk. Similarly, seminary should challenge students’ “folk theology”—cliché, debunked, or exaggerated doctrines and practices that have little or no foundation in Scripture, history, or sometimes even orthodoxy. Good seminary training will open the doors and windows of a person’s beliefs and practices, providing opportunity to haul out the useless and damaging doctrinal junk, airing out errors and shedding light on oddities. Of course, like hoarders, it’s always up to the student to “clean house” when necessary.

Second, a seminary education will skillfully rearrange doctrinal furniture. Every home I’ve been in has a number of chairs, a table or two, a sofa or so, permanent and moveable fixtures, and other furnishings that make a house a home. But some homes are better coordinated and decorated than others. Picture the difference between a bachelor’s haunt and the White House . . . or the furniture section of a local thrift store and the mock-ups at Ikea . . . or the typical college dorm room and a suite at a Hilton. Yes, the haphazard furniture functions just fine, but the set-up lacks symmetry, proportion, and beauty. And amateur “homemakers” have a tendency to constantly rearrange things, striving to achieve an elusive balance . . . or at least keeping guests from constantly bumping into and tripping over everything. In the same way, most lay people who lack seminary training have all (or most) of the essential elements of a functional Christian theology, but they almost always lack a centering theological principle, a biblical narrative arc, or a sense of how the smaller and larger pieces of the doctrinal puzzle fit together as a whole. Quality seminary training provides a balanced, full-bodied arrangement of Bible, theology, history, practical ministry, and other essential elements. No vital element will be missing. No portion will be inappropriately exaggerated. No central elements will be shoved off to the side. By submitting to a complete degree program in a seminary context, graduates can rest assured that they have been exposed to a tried-and-true arrangement of the furnishings and fixtures of Christian theology.

Third, a quality seminary education will help students remodel doctrinal structures. This goes beyond merely superficial rearrangement and proportion. Sometimes seminarians need major deconstruction and reconstruction of their doctrinal convictions. Oftentimes students come from a theological ghetto that has minimized or exaggerated certain beliefs and practices. They have been baptized into one confession that never challenged them to think critically about their own tradition. Or they have been raised in one way of doing ministry and have never considered whether such a model is the most culturally appropriate or even biblically faithful way of doing things. In my own experience, Christians from a free church or low church background have no room in their doctrinal home for a biblically, theologically, and historically faithful doctrine and practice of the sacraments. Remodeling will make room. Christians from a liturgical or high church background often can’t imagine a time in history when the church didn’t have this or that particular form of worship . . . nor can they appreciate the liturgical diversity in the Christian tradition. Remodeling will make space for models of worship that were previously unfamiliar. Many pragmatically-driven Christians don’t have a completely accurate and healthy understanding of such fundamental doctrines as the Trinity, the person and work of Christ, the inspiration and authority of Scripture, or even the Gospel. Remodeling will repair the walls that protect and promote these vital truths. Some Christians with very narrow church backgrounds—especially those who have been to a Bible College—will have an opportunity to revisit some of the structures they received without question . . . or at least without a full awareness of the diverse perspectives within orthodox protestant evangelicalism. Quality seminary training provides a safe, cautious, constructive, and expertly-guided opportunity for substantial remodeling of one’s doctrinal structures prior to engaging in full time Christian ministry. This is vital, because once a person is in the thick of ministry, a faulty and flimsy structure can collapse under pressure and a radical or reactionary “gutting” of one’s theology can destroy a church. Seminary, not ministry, is the place to get your theological house in order.

Finally, a seminary education will firm up doctrinal and practical foundations. Seminary doesn’t answer all biblical and theological questions, but a balanced seminary curriculum will equip future leaders with the language skills, interpretational methods, theological framework, and historical backgrounds necessary for tackling these questions on their own. It moves the learner from the level of parroting canned, cliché responses to predictable questions to the level of thinking through new questions and providing compelling answers. It moves a Christian from the passive and unconscious acceptance of the core doctrines of the faith to a place where he or she can actively and consciously understand, articulate, and defend these doctrines. By firming up the foundations of the Christian faith, seminary will instill confidence in future pastors and ministers. Seminary training will shorten the preparation time needed to put together biblically faithful, theologically sound, and practically compelling sermons and lessons because most of the foundation work will have already been done. Just as a firm foundation will keep a building from teetering when the earth shakes and the storms blow in, a well-balanced seminary training will stabilize a person’s life of ministry, preventing him or her from swaying with every wind of doctrine or crumbling like those whose ministries are built on a foundation of shifting sands.

When it comes to the need for seminary-trained church leaders, I admit that my perspective is biased, prejudiced, and one-sided. After all, I’ve devoted my life to teaching future pastors, teachers, evangelists, missionaries, and lay leaders. But my perspective on the value of seminary training isn’t an effect of my position as a seminary professor; my dedication to teaching as a seminary professor is motivated by my conviction that seminary training is needed today more than ever. No meandering internet reading sprees can replace seminary’s planned, balanced, curricular approach. No narrow, in-church training program can compete with seminary’s full-bodied education by diverse pastor-scholars who are experts in their fields. And no amount of practical ministry experience can fill in the inevitable gaps in biblical, theological, and historical knowledge needed to face the questions and challenges bombarding believers in our post-modern, post-Christian world. Yes, I’m sold-out for seminary training. But I have good reasons to be.

So, then, why seminary?

Why not?

“Use Things the Way They’re Meant to Be Used”: Beyond Regs and Norms

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I’m hardly the model parent. I have no special training or expertise. I have no success stories (my oldest is just 13). And when I’m coping with my three kids’ day-to-day, hit-and-miss behavior, the fruit of the Spirit often gets juiced. However, over the years I’ve crafted a few “standing orders” that have helped maintain some modicum of control in my family. One of these is pretty simple but all-important in the Svigel household: “Use things the way they’re meant to be used.”

When followed, this rule can lessen the likelihood of accidents and injuries. Here’s how it works: Imagine your six-year-old grabs a five gallon bucket, turns it over, and tries to use it as a stepping stool to reach a bicycle helmet hanging in the garage. Suddenly the rule kicks in: use things the way they were meant to be used. Tragedy avoided. Or your ten-year-old can’t find his pocket knife to whittle bark from a branch. Instead, he grabs a pair of scissors, opens it up as wide as it will go, and starts shaving the twig with one blade: use things the way they are meant to be used.

Let me suggest that this rule of thumb can be applied when making ministry decisions, too. In fact, taking into consideration the intended purposes expressed in the Bible adds another dimension to the age-old debate between the “regulative principle” and the “normative principle.”

 

Regulatives vs. Normatives

For a long time Protestants have debated proper worship from two perspectives: those who adhere to the regulative principle (“Regs”) argue that whatever is not expressly commanded in Scripture is to be prohibited in worship and order. Those who hold to the normative principle (“Norms”) argue that whatever is not prohibited by Scripture is permissible in worship and order.

For example, some proponents of the regulative principle reject the use of musical instruments in worship because the New Testament neither prescribes nor mentions their use. On the other hand, followers of the normative principle would use a growing variety of musical instruments for worship because nothing in the New Testament expressly forbids their use. As another example, Regs tend to practice believer’s baptism exclusively, as this is the practice explicitly seen in the New Testament. Norms may practice infant baptism because nothing in the New Testament clearly prohibits it.

Needless to say, many evangelical churches follow a very broad normative principle, feeling the freedom to employ almost anything in their worship and order as long as it doesn’t violate a clear teaching of Scripture. Usually, then, a strong pragmatic principle tends to steer decisions. So, as an extreme example, if the Bible doesn’t clearly forbid driving motorcycles up and down the aisles and around the stage in order to illustrate the power of the Holy Spirit, then a church is free to ride motorcycles throughout the worship center if it will communicate the point in a memorable (read: entertaining) way. Or, to use a less extreme example, because the New Testament doesn’t clearly prohibit the use of artwork in the sanctuary, we are free to use art, images, multi-media presentations, plays, skits, movies, smoke, lightshows, dance, and other artistic expressions to communicate our message in memorable (!) ways.

Now, both the regulative and normative principles address matters that are not explicitly mentioned in Scripture (though they might be reasonably deduced from Scripture). Regs forbid anything not clearly affirmed; Norms allows things not clearly rejected. Yet what about the use of practices explicitly mentioned in Scripture in ways that are neither clearly condoned nor explicitly condemned? That is, the intended uses of some things are clearly articulated in Scripture, leaving us with clear direction on how they are to be employed, things like prayer, worship, leadership, money, Scripture, baptism, and the Lord’s Supper. The question then becomes: if Scripture teaches us clearly that Practice X is to be used for Purpose Y, is it also okay for us to use X for purpose Z? Let me give two examples.

 

Using the Bible the Way It’s Meant to Be Used

Scripture itself clearly sets forth the Bible’s intended uses. Scriptures point us to Jesus Christ (Luke 24:27; John 5:39; Acts 8:35; 18:28; Rom. 1:2; 1 Cor. 15:3–4). It’s to be read publically in church for instruction (1 Tim. 4:13). It also contains the wisdom of God needed to walk in righteousness (Ps. 119:105). In fact, its two main purposes can be summed up by 2 Timothy 3:15–17—“The sacred writings . . . are able to give you the wisdom that leads to salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.” So really the purpose of Scripture is twofold: 1) to point us to a saving knowledge of the person and work of Jesus Christ (2 Tim. 3:15); and 2) to teach us how to live as children of God (3:16–17). In other words, the explicit purpose of Scripture is to regulate our faith and practice.

But what about other uses of the Bible beyond these two?

Is it right to use the Bible as a guide for dieting—WWJE (What Would Jesus Eat)? Is it okay to also use the Bible as a science textbook? A management manual? A guide for “biblical economics”? A pocketbook for political science? A source of frameable quotes to hang in our bathrooms? Is it right for us to publish special interest study Bibles that focus on only one particular topic in Scripture (whether end times, animals, or apologetics) . . . or to package the presentation for one particular audience (whether moms, dads, leaders, or specific ethnic groups)? If the Bible was meant to point us to Jesus, how badly do we err when we use it to point to other things . . . or to point to us? If the Bible was written to equip believers for every good work, do we err when we use it to justify political opinions, glean dietary advice, or formulate scientific theories?

In short, do we risk doctrinal and practical accident and injury if we deviate from using the Bible the way it’s meant to be used?

 

Using the Lord’s Supper the Way It’s Meant to Be Used

Most evangelical churches know they’re supposed to observe the Lord’s Supper (also called “communion,” “the Lord’s Table,” or “the Eucharist”). And most know that the New Testament spells out clear purposes, confirmed by the early church’s practice. The Lord’s Supper is meant to reflect the “one body” of the gathered church (1 Cor. 10:17; 11:20) rather than a family’s normal meal at home (1 Cor. 11:22, 34). Around the Table, Christ’s disciples gather to dine with the Lord, commemorating His saving death and resurrection and anticipating His personal return (1 Cor. 11:23–26). Practiced properly, this community covenant meal provides spiritual blessing and strengthens faith (1 Cor. 10:16). Both the New Testament and early church confirm that the churches observed the Lord’s Supper every Sunday as part of the weekly gathered worship (Acts 20:7; 1 Cor. 11:18–20; see my essay, “Should We Celebrate the Lord’s Supper Every Sunday in Church?”).

Even though we have a sufficient picture of the intended purpose of the Lord’s Supper, what about other uses of the observance of the meal besides these?

Is it right for us to observe the Lord’s Supper at home in our families? On camping trips with friends? Should it be used as an evangelistic tool, presenting the gospel through the meal and asking unbelievers to partake as their first act of faith? Should its intended weekly observance be suspended in favor of an annual feast? What about partaking of the Lord’s Supper as part of our individual, private prayer time and devotion? Or during an “online” service with whatever elements we have at hand—bread and juice, pizza and Coke . . . donuts and coffee? How far from its intended purpose dare we take the Lord’s Supper before we end up out of bounds? If Communion is intended to be an act of covenant renewal among the gathered church as a commemoration of the suffering and death of Christ during corporate worship, do we err when we observe it in ways not intended by the Lord and practiced by His apostles?

In short, do we risk doctrinal and practical accident and injury if we deviate from using the Lord’s Supper the way it’s meant to be used?

 

Use Things the Way They’re Meant to Be Used

The constant tension and occasional conflict between proponents of the regulative principle and adherents of the normative principle will probably endure until the end of the age. Regs forbid things not clearly affirmed in or reasonably deduced from Scripture. Norms allows things not clearly rejected in Scripture. But in the midst of this legitimate debate, we sometimes fold in things for which the Scriptures are very clear regarding their purpose and function. This raises an important question that neither the Regs nor Norms directly address. If the Bible explicitly tells us the way things are meant to be used, on what basis and by what authority do we use them in ways that were unintended?

Of course, this question, too, deserves a fair-minded debate. What are the limits of liturgical freedom beyond the prescribed functions in the New Testament before we’re guilty of offering strange fire before the Lord (Lev. 10:1)? Are we not, then, better off sticking close to the clearly-articulated purposes and intensions of the Bible rather than cleverly, creatively, and perhaps dangerously and rebelliously making our own uses for them?

Maybe we ought to apply my household rule to better manage the household of faith: use things the way they’re meant to be used. I know in my own family this principle makes sense. It prevents things from being broken. It gets things done more efficiently. And it also keeps people safe. Perhaps some of our churches and believers have suffered unintended damage because we have failed to follow a reasonable rule of thumb: use things the way they’re meant to be used.

No More Microwave Messages, Please

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As a kid I loved T.V. dinners—frozen entrees heated and served in flimsy aluminum trays. That was before microwaves, so mom would pop them in the oven for 45 minutes and serve them up on makeshift T.V. trays just in time for Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, Wonderful World of Disney, or Fantasy Island.

Honestly, it was the thrill of family “T.V. time” that I relished. The meals themselves were, well . . . Salisbury steak doused in salty gravy to hide the fact that the meat suffered from acute freezer burn. Peas and carrots that had the consistency of Styrofoam packing peanuts. Mushed (not mashed) potatoes that approached the consistency of Elmer’s glue. Yes, the T.V. dinners tasted like refried dog food and their very existence lampooned the four food groups, but preparation was painless and the cleanup effortless. Besides, with our eyes and ears fixated on the T.V. screen, we mindlessly consumed the meals with the discriminating palate of garbage disposers.

As I reflect on those T.V. dinners I so enjoyed as a kid, I realize now that they serve as a physical forerunner to a spiritual counterpart in the church of the twenty-first century. Call them Microwave Messages, Instant Homilies, or McSermons. Not consumed by qualified, conscientious, and diligent shepherds of a beloved flock, but devoured by the lazy, the burned out, the distracted, the desperate, the incompetent, the ill-equipped, or the dishonest. Members of that sad sort download these canned sermons from the internet, buy them in a book, or mine them from the repertoires of celebrity preachers. Regardless of how they come by those so-called “ministry tools,” the result is the same: “sermons-to-go” that require no actual biblical, theological, or homiletical expertise and negligible prayer, meditation, reflection, and preparation.

In my mind, buying sermons or preaching somebody else’s sermon is the equivalent of picking up KFC and telling your family you prepared it yourself. Or it’s like stepping into a university classroom and spending the hour reading directly from somebody else’s text book. Or like buying term papers from online vendors to earn your degree. Or maybe like an average Joe donning a white coat and stethoscope and pretending to be a doctor by mimicking characters he saw on T.V. There’s just something creepy about pastors who don’t care enough about their congregations to wrestle with the biblical text, engage with its theological and practical truth, and then craft their messages to address their own churches’ real needs.

Please don’t mishear me. I’m not talking about using illustration helps. Or even quoting from fellow pastors and teachers. I’m not even worried about getting sermon ideas or outlines from others. The seeds of excellent messages can be planted by numerous sources—and cross-pollination from other preachers is healthy. What I mean, though, is when most of the message is drawn directly from another, even if that source is acknowledged. There’s plagiarism and then there’s lack of pastoral responsibility. Neither of them is tolerable for those trained and ordained for the pulpit ministry.

Let me suggest three reasons why McSermons are simply unacceptable for a responsible preaching pastor. In these three reasons, I’m focusing less on the plagiarism problem (which everybody should clearly see) and more on the pastoral problem (which many overlook).

First, canned sermons weren’t written for your church. A preacher’s primary responsibility is to provide spiritual leadership to the particular congregation in his charge. He is not primarily responsible for other churches or for all churches. The pulpit ministry in a local church is most effective when the pastor knows the members of his congregation, understands their spiritual needs, has his finger on their spiritual pulse, and can accurately gauge their doctrinal and practical growth. Only then can the pastor craft a message that applies biblical truth to the church’s specific needs. Let me suggest that a message that had been preached at another church or a sermon template designed to be preached to any church will likely fail to effectively shepherd your church. Popping the cork on bottled sermons might provide a polished presentation and impressive content, but it will always lack sincerity, authenticity, and heart-to-heart exhortation. In the end, the congregation may be foddered, but they may not be nourished. In 2 Timothy 4:2, Paul told Timothy, “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching” (ESV). In order to reprove or rebuke, a preacher must know the failings of the flock. In order to exhort, a preacher must understand the areas in need of growth. The authors of canned sermons don’t know your church. They can’t reprove, rebuke, or exhort your flock any more than reading some other parent’s written lecture could discipline your child.

Second, canned sermons turn the preacher into an irrelevant middle man. As far as I can tell, pastors who draw extensively from somebody else’s sermons are simply buying wholesale and selling retail. It won’t take long before the congregation feels a little ripped off. Why should a church listen to a second-rate communicator present the work of a first-rate preacher? Wouldn’t it be more desirable to go straight to the source? Why bother with the middle man? Oh yes, the middle man can provide more personalized service and a pulpit presence, but the message itself comes to the church through a stand-in who parrots somebody else’s words. I’m not surprised when members of the congregation feel their pastor’s messages lack depth, conviction, and passion. And I’m less surprised when church members lose attention because the middle man in the pulpit is mindlessly channeling the thoughts of another. We would do well to mediate on the words of Paul to the young pastor, Timothy, and reflect on how seriously he was expected to take his personal responsibility for that church in Ephesus: “Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophecy when the council of elders laid their hands on you. Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress. Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers” (1 Tim. 4:13–16, ESV). I see no room in Paul’s instructions here for a pastor who neglects his responsibility to exhort and teach, pilfering the content of his messages from a nameless, faceless supplier who has no relationship with the end users.

Third, canned sermons indicate a pastor’s loss of focus and misplaced priorities. The apostle Peter provides great counsel to those responsible for pastoral care: “I exhort the elders among you . . . shepherd the flock of God that is among you, exercising oversight, not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have you; not for shameful gain, but eagerly; not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock” (1 Pet. 5:1–3, ESV). The picture Peter draws is one of church leaders who know their flock because they dwell among them, setting examples and providing oversight by word and deed. A pastor’s primary responsibility is to minster the Word of God to his particular flock with care and diligence. Sadly, the modern image of a pastor as a vision-setter, goal-getter, marketer, C.E.O., or shop-keeper has displaced the biblical image of the shepherd, mentor, and spiritual advisor who leads his flock through personal counsel and corporate preaching. As such, many pastors have been so over-burdened with day to day administrative and management tasks that they have no time for the activities that lead directly to effective sermon preparation—prayer, study, research, meditation, visitation, and preparation. Such pastors are forced to take short-cuts, and sometimes this means either shoddy, shallow messages thrown together on a Saturday afternoon or worse—canned sermons purchased from a Sermons-R-Us service and presented as if they were his own.

If you’ve become a connoisseur of processed, pre-packed messages, stop. Or if you’ve been tempted to snatch a fast-food sermon from a drive-through vendor, don’t. Take your responsibility of pastoral leadership more seriously. Take the time to get the training necessary to fill your workshop with the tools needed to craft sermons from the Word to minister to your world. Then carve out a generous amount of time to pray, study, meditate, and mold messages of both substance and significance.

[Originally posted at www.retrochristianity.com May 19, 2012]

Should We Celebrate the Lord’s Supper Every Sunday in Church?

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A monthly, quarterly, or simply “infrequent” observance of the Lord’s Supper (or in some traditions “the Eucharist,” “Communion,” or “the Lord’s Table”) has become generally accepted by many churches. So common is the non-weekly observance that when Bible-believing Christians are confronted with the fact that the earliest churches observed the Lord’s Supper weekly, as instituted by Christ and the apostles, they respond with disbelief, defensiveness, or even resentment. Countless excuses spill from their lips as to why they can’t (or won’t) conform their Sunday worship to the original apostolic model presented in the Bible and clearly seen in the earliest churches founded by the apostles.

Frankly, a lot of confusion, misinformation, bad preaching, and bad teaching have permeated our understanding of the Lord’s Supper. Therefore, it’s necessary to revisit the biblical, historical, and theological facts confirming that a weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper in the context of the local church’s Sunday worship was the original apostolic practice to be observed in all churches since—including yours and mine. I know this essay is long, and at points it can become somewhat technical. But I promise it will be worth your diligence.

 

Coming Together around the Bread and Cup

Let me begin by setting forth the simple establishment of the Communion service ordained by Christ at the completion of the Last Supper. Though the meal preceding its establishment was a typical Passover Seder, the institution of the bread and wine as the body and blood was a radical modification of the Passover tradition. Christ first “gave thanks” for both the cup and the bread (Matt. 26:26–27; Mark 14:22–23; Luke 22:17–19). The Greek verb “to give thanks” is eucharisteo, the noun form of which is eucharistia. This is the term used in the early church for the Communion service of bread and wine—the “thanksgiving” or Eucharistic observance.

Christ also identified the broken bread with his body and the cup of wine with his blood (Matt. 26:26–28). This is clearly a completely new revelation, not an expected part of the Jewish Passover observance. Therefore, Jesus’s words, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19; 1 Cor. 11:24) refers exclusively to the institution of the bread and wine. In fact, Paul himself narrows the observance to the consecrated bread and wine when he says, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor. 11:26). That is, the proclamation, remembrance, and observance are all focused on the bread and wine, not the entire Passover meal.

Of course, neither Jesus nor Paul clearly said anything at this point about the frequency of the observance of the Communion service. Paul used the ambiguous term, “as often as” (1 Cor. 11:25–26). However, this term does not mean “do it whenever you want.” Clearly the Corinthian church already had a set pattern of observing the Lord’s Supper. Paul was therefore building upon that understanding of the frequency of the observance while reminding them that as frequently as they observe Communion, they are proclaiming the Lord’s death. The emphasis was on remembering the purpose of the observance every time they participate in it, not on observing the Lord’s Supper whenever they felt like it.

So, is there a way for us to determine what the apostles actually established as the normative practice of the Lord’s Supper?

In 1 Corinthians 11, Paul points out that when the Christians in Corinth “come together,” problems arise (11:17). Paul uses the term “come together,” sunerchomai, in this passage as a term for the official assembling of the local church in Corinth. In verse 18 he says, “When you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you.” Also, 1 Cor. 14:26 uses the same term for the official gathered meeting of the church. This confirms that Paul had in mind the weekly gathering of the community to observe the practices he had established during his eighteen-month period of teaching the new Christians several years earlier. Though they had maintained the weekly practice of gathering together as a church, the meeting had become fraught with problems.

When did this gathering together of the church occur? Well, 1 Corinthians 16:1 says, “On the first day of every week, each of you is to put something aside and store it up.” The idea is that each believer is to contribute something of his or her wealth to a community pot that would later be collected when Paul arrived. The “first day of every week” is, of course, Sunday. The book of Acts also notes that the church of Troas gathered “on the first day of the week . . . to break bread” (Act 20:7). In fact, Paul stayed a full seven days in Troas after his arrival there in order to remain with the disciples during that Sunday. No other day would do.

In any case, the weekly gathering, having been firmly fixed in Judaism as Saturday, naturally continued in the early church, but with an important change. The earliest Christians commemorated the resurrection of Jesus, which occurred on “the first day,” Sunday (Matt 28:1; Mark 16:2; Luke 24:1; John 20:1). That this was the pattern established by the apostles themselves when they planted their churches is confirmed in the first century historical document from the church in Antioch, which instructs new churches, “Every Lord’s day, gather yourselves together, and break bread, and give thanksgiving after having confessed your transgressions” (Didache 14.1). So early is the Didache (dated by modern Didache scholars now between A.D. 50 and 70) that it gives us a window into the actual practice of the churches established by the apostles themselves. It’s not surprising that we find Ignatius of Antioch some years later faithfully carrying out the instructions of the apostles. He notes that those who have come to Christ from Judaism are “no longer observing the Sabbath, but living in the observance of the Lord’s day, on which also our life has sprung up again by Him and by His death” (Ignatius, Magnesians 9.1).

Therefore we see that our reading of the New Testament documents concerning Sunday worship (the Lord’s day, on which He was raised from the dead, not Saturday), is confirmed by the historical documents that relay the actual practices of the early church. (For more information on Sunday as the original day of Christian worship, see my essay, “Putting the Sabbath to Rest.”)

What were the churches expected to do when they “came together” (sunerchomai) each Sunday? Returning to 1 Corinthians, we see that in conjunction with the “coming together,” they were to celebrate the unity of the body by observing “the Lord’s supper” (1 Cor. 11:17–20)—a mark of unity at which they were utterly failing (11:21). That this “Lord’s supper” was not a fellowship meal is confirmed by the fact that Paul explicitly instructs those with means to “eat at home” (11:34; cf. 11:22). Rather, the “Lord’s supper” observed in the weekly coming together was that observance instituted by Christ “on the night when he was betrayed” (11:23).

 

Was the Lord’s Supper Just a Passover Meal?

Though some have closely tied the institution of the Lord’s Supper to the annual Jewish Passover meal, such a perspective fails to hold up to biblical, theological, and historical scrutiny. Already in 1 Corinthians Paul makes a point that “after supper” Jesus took the cup (1 Cor. 11:25). The Passover supper itself was over. What Jesus instituted came afterwards, was detached from the traditional Passover meal, and involved words and actions that were not part of any traditional Passover Seder. Renowned early church scholar, Everett Fergusson, writes of the account of the institution of the Lord’s Supper in the Gospels: “Mark and Matthew make nothing of the meal setting, except to mention it as the occasion when Jesus gave a special meaning to the bread and the cup. They focus attention on what was important for the continuing practice of the church” (“Lord’s Supper and Love Feast,” Christian Studies 21 [2005–2006]: 28).

Theologically, Christ uses the bread and the cup to point us to the New Covenant. In stark contrast, the Passover meal was an annual hallmark of the Old Covenant. In fact, in the key New Covenant passage in Jeremiah 31, the prophet proclaimed, “Behold, the days are coming, declares the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah, not like the covenant that I made with their fathers on the day when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt” (Jer. 31:31–32 ESV). The mark of remembering the institution of the Old Covenant (redemption from Egypt) was the annual Passover celebration. The mark of remembering the institution of the New Covenant (redemption in Christ’s blood) is the weekly Lord’s Supper, remembering Christ’s incarnation, death, and resurrection each week as a reflection that Christ has not yet returned (1 Cor. 11:26).

Thus, the difference between Passover and the Lord’s Supper is as different as the Old Covenant and the New Covenant, as different as circumcision and baptism. This is why Paul put the Old Covenant Jewish observances in proper perspective in Colossians 2:16–17—“Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ” (ESV). These shadows of things to come (including the Passover, cf. 1 Cor. 5:7) must never be confused with the realities of Christ’s person and work—remembered through the weekly celebration of the bread and cup.

 

Was the Lord’s Supper the “Love Feast”?

The “love feast” is mentioned only once in the New Testament (Jude 1:12), paralleled in 2 Peter 2:13 with reference to a “feast.” Too often the “love feast” has been understood by modern readers as a “fellowship meal,” like a church potluck, Sunday school picnic, or some other time of “food, folks, and fun.” But the “love feast” held by many in the early church was actually a “charity meal” primarily for the purpose of providing sustenance for the needy members of the congregation—widows, orphans, and the poor. Its inspiration did not come from the Last Supper, but perhaps from the Lord’s miraculous feeding of the hungry in Matt. 14:19 and the early church’s practice of providing for the needy through the voluntary benevolence of the rich (Acts 4:34–35). In some places the love feast was supplemented with or supplanted by a monetary or food offering intended to provide for the poor and needy. On the other hand, the Lord’s Supper was an observance distinct from the love feast. In the Lord’s Supper, bread and wine were ceremonially consumed as a memorial confession of Christ’s person and work, a medium of spiritual fellowship with Christ himself, and a means of covenant renewal among the local church community.

Everett Fergusson writes, “The Lord’s supper and the love feast were two distinct activities—the one a remembrance and proclamation of the death and resurrection of Jesus and the other an act of benevolence and fellowship. It took some time before a distinct and fixed terminology prevailed, even as some time passed before the functions were separated in time, but the activities themselves had discreet meanings from the beginning” (Fergusson, “Lord’s Supper and Love Feast,” 35). Similarly, Marcel Metzger, an expert on the history of Christian worship, writes concerning the charity meals, “The community meals were at once a realization and an expression of charity and mutual support, another aspect of communion in one single body. In times of want and famine . . . the demands of mutual help led in all likelihood to the organization of daily meals for the benefit of the needy” (Marcel Metzger, History of the Liturgy: Three Major Stages, trans. Madeleine M. Beaumont [Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1997], 21–22).

Simply put, the “love feast” is not the same as the Lord’s Supper. Neither is the love feast simply a fellowship meal, like our modern potlucks, or any meal we have with other believers. Rather, when we read the Bible in its historical-theological context, it becomes clear that the “charity meal” was often observed in conjunction with the gathered community as a way for the well-off to provide for the needy. Thus, the modern equivalent of the “charity meal” in our churches is not the Lord’s Supper, a potluck, or a church-wide picnic, but a benevolence offering for the poor.

 

Was the Lord’s Supper Any “Breaking of Bread” with Believers?

Some time ago a young man contacted me with concerns over his church’s apparent teaching and practice of the Lord’s Supper. He reported that the pastor of the church taught that the biblical Lord’s Supper was never intended to hold a special place in church worship. Rather, the Lord’s Supper, he said, was any meal that believers enjoy together. In fact, that pastor boldly asserted that the traditional in-church observance of the Lord’s Supper was a “bastardization” of its original intent (these are his words, not mine!). And he added that he partook of the Lord’s Supper three times a day—whenever he “broke bread” with fellow believers at breakfast, lunch, or dinner!

Sadly, this confusion occurs far too frequently among careless Bible-readers who fail to read the Scriptures in their literary and historical context. The idiom “to break bread” is already used in the Old Testament. In Isaiah 58:7 and Jeremiah 16:7 the authors use the Hebrew word parash, “to divide,” in the sense of “sharing” food with the needy and the mourning. The Septuagint (the pre-Christian Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures) renders the idiom in Jeremiah 16:7 as “break bread.” By the New Testament, the practice of “breaking bread” in conjunction with a blessing at the beginning of a meal was customary in Judaism, often in the context of “dividing” one’s supply of food with others (Matt. 14:19; 15:36). Thus, when Jesus instituted Communion after the Last Supper, we are told that he “took bread, and after blessing it broke it.”

Everett Fergusson clarifies: “The phrase, ‘break bread,’ referring to a general custom, could refer to beginning a meal or to the specific remembrance of the death of Jesus. The context must decide which is meant in each case” (Fergusson, “Lord’s Supper and Love Feast,” 30). Many careless readers of Scripture (some who should know better!) have read the term “to break bread” as if a) it always means the Lord’s Supper, or b) it always means any meal with others, or c) it has both meanings, so it is a meal with others, which is the Lord’s Supper. This latter error—of which the pastor mentioned earlier was guilty—is akin to the exegetical fallacy D. A. Carson calls “Unwarranted adoption of an expanded semantic field” (Exegetical Fallacies, 2d ed. [Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996], 60–61).

The context of each passage must determine the kind of “breaking bread” involved. When Paul was on his way to Rome by ship and he broke bread with others on the vessel (Acts 27:35–36), this was a normal meal; it does not indicate that Paul shared the church’s Lord’s Supper with unbelievers as part of his evangelism! Earlier, in Acts 20, it appears we have both uses of “to break bread”—first as a reference to the Communion meal (Acts 20:7), then later as a common meal (20:11). So, when we see that believers “broke bread” with each other, we cannot automatically assume that the text necessarily means the church’s observance of the Lord’s Supper, Communion, or Eucharist—observed in the context of Sunday worship. Rather, it may be: a) any normal daily meal (Luke 24:30—like our breakfast, lunch, or dinner); b) a joyous fellowship or community meal with believers (Acts 2:47—like our potlucks or banquets); c) a charity meal for the benefit of the poor (Matt. 14:19—like our soup kitchens or charitable food banks); or d) the memorial bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper observed in church (1 Cor. 10:16—the same as our Communion).

The Lord’s Supper, one form of “breaking bread” with believers, was always meant to be an observance in the context of the worshiping church during their Sunday morning gathering (Acts 20:7). By confusing the various distinct uses of the phrase, “to break bread,” with its special use for the Lord’s Supper, some pastors and teachers have misinterpreted the observance of the Lord’s Supper as any every-day meal or as a special potluck meal. This has led some churches to eject the Lord’s Supper from their Sunday morning service altogether, reduce its frequency to special (i.e., “rare”) occasions, or to even offer it to unbelievers. Such practices don’t stand up to honest and informed biblical, theological, and historical scrutiny.

 

Weekly Observance in the Context of the Gathered Church

When we read the Bible in the historical context of the actual beliefs and practices of the earliest Christians, the conclusion is indisputable. All the churches throughout the world, in response to the institution of Christ and the authoritative instructions from His apostles, observed the bread and cup as the body and blood of Christ weekly as part of the Sunday morning worship when the church came together (1 Cor. 11:17–20). Do modern churches, therefore, have the right to alter this identifiable apostolic practice, taught in Scripture, observed in the earliest churches, and maintained for centuries as an immovable part of authentic weekly Sunday worship?

The apostle Paul instructed the Thessalonians to “stand firm and hold to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by our spoken word or by our letter” (2 Thess. 2:15). Paul expected the Corinthian Christians to “maintain the traditions even as I delivered them to you” (1 Cor. 11:2). Indeed, the teachings of the apostles are “the foundation” of the church, to which all later developments are to conform (1 Cor. 3:10). And we are to avoid and correct the errors of “human tradition” that inevitably creep into the church’s beliefs and practices (Col. 2:8). Judge, therefore, for yourself whether any teacher, preacher, pastor, or theologian has the authority to change the weekly Lord’s Supper observed in the context of the local gathered community. To do so seems to me to deviate from the clearly discernible tradition which Paul “received from the Lord” and “delivered” to the Corinthians—as well as all the churches he planted and in which he labored. This practice is not a mere worn-out tradition of men, but a hand-delivered practice from Christ and His apostles.

Not only did the ancient church take the apostles’ tradition regarding the Lord’s Supper seriously, but Protestant teachers also knew this to be the original teaching of the early church, too. The great reformer, John Calvin, wrote, “We ought always to provide that no meeting of the Church is held without the word, prayer, the dispensation of the Supper, and alms. We may gather from Paul that this was the order observed by the Corinthians, and it is certain that this was the practice many ages after” (Institutes of the Christian Religion, 4.17.44). The Roman Catholic Church had deteriorated in their practices to a point in which only priests partook of the Sacrament of the Mass daily, giving only the bread to their parishioners and that often only once a year! But by studying the Bible and the early church, the reformers knew this infrequent observance had no resemblance to authentic Christian worship. Instead, the weekly Sunday observance of the Lord’s Supper was intended to be a distinguishing mark of a biblically and historically faithful Protestant congregation.

Fergusson provides a balanced perspective with regard to proper observance of the Lord’s Supper as established by Christ and handed down by the apostles: “The association of the Lord’s supper with the Lord’s day and the association of the day of the resurrection with the day of meeting should not be weakened or broken by another practice. Nor should the significance of the Lord’s supper as a memorial of the death and resurrection of Jesus made by the gathered community of disciples be turned to other purposes. To make the Lord’s supper a sacrament that brings a blessing just by doing it [as in Roman Catholicism] says too much about the Lord’s supper. To treat it as a general religious act of personal piety so that it can be taken on other occasions than the assembly of the church [as in many evangelical churches] says too little about the Lord’s supper” (Fergusson, “Lord’s Supper and Love Feast,” 38).

How tragic that so many evangelical churches have drifted in their worship so far from the Bible, the practices of the earliest churches, and the ideals of the reformation!

 

Now for the “Yeah, Buts”

When confronted with the biblical, historical, and theological facts, Bible-believing Christians ought to amend their ways. They should conform their attitudes and actions to the commands of Christ, the mandates of the apostles, and the universal observances of the ancient churches. However, far too many evangelical pastors and teachers respond to these facts with all sorts of excuses for continuing to deviate from the apostolic practice. Over the years, I’ve heard them all. I present seven of the most common excuses, with my own brief responses in italics.

1) “If we observe the Lord’s Supper every week, it will become routine and mundane; a less frequent observance makes it more special.” Response: Then apply this same logic to the sermon, the collection, prayers, or singing. Would a monthly sermon make the message more meaningful? Would a quarterly praise and worship time make the songs more memorable? Would a monthly offering make every penny received that much more precious? On the positive side, I have heard countless testimonies from churches who have opted to obediently observe the Lord’s Supper weekly, saying they would never go back to a monthly or quarterly observance after experiencing the blessings of the weekly table.

2. “If we observe the Lord’s Supper every week, the worship service will be too long!” Response: So maybe you should shorten or cut out some of the activities you do during the worship service that aren’t actually apostolic. Or try re-appropriating time to better balance the elements of worship to include everything the apostles mandated. Most of our typical worship services can be divided at 50% preaching, 30% singing, and maybe 20% for everything else: prayer, offering, announcements, etc. Does this proportion reflect the Bible’s own emphases? Since the facts point to a weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper as an essential element of worship, shouldn’t we find a way to give it the space it deserves? Many other churches are able to do this. Why can’t yours?   

3. “Observing the Lord’s Supper every week looks too Catholic!” Response: The question shouldn’t be “How can I best avoid things that look Catholic?” but “How can we best conform to the things Christ and the apostles established?” It should be noted that Protestant reformers themselves—because of the compelling evidence of Scripture and early church practice—favored a weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper, not because it was Catholic, but because it was Christian. As pointed out above, in the medieval Roman Catholic Church, most people observed the Lord’s Supper rarely (usually only once a year!)  

4. “We can reflect on the person and work of Christ in other ways that are more culturally relevant than the Lord’s Supper.” Response: By what authority do you disobey Christ’s command? By what new revelation do you challenge the authority of the apostles? By what divine wisdom or insight do you place the Lord’s Supper in the category of “optional” observances? Jesus, through the apostles, established the Lord’s Supper as a unique practice that does more than just provide a means of reflecting on Christ. A close reading of 1 Corinthians 10–11 shows that with the observance comes spiritual blessing, a mark of unity in the body, fellowship with Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit, and an act of covenant renewal before God and fellow believers. Also, the many evangelical churches that have restored a weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper to their worship have testified to its “relevance” as a weekly confession of faith that involves all five senses in a way that no other act of worship can. 

5. “Our church has done it quarterly (or monthly) for as long as I can remember. They won’t accept a weekly observance.” Response: Any church can be re-educated and shown the error of its ways. It may take time, study, skill, patience, and perseverance, but it has happened all around the nation. Numerous independent Bible churches, traditional Baptist churches, and other evangelical congregations that had long abandoned weekly observance have recently re-established this ancient practice and wouldn’t consider going back. No generation is immune from doctrinal and practical deterioration. Every church must frequently reevaluate and realign its beliefs and practices to the apostolic standard. A long history of disobedience is no excuse for a future of disobedience.

6. “My pastor [or professor] says you’re wrong. A weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper in the local church worship is not really what the Bible teaches.” Response: I’m sorry to say that your pastor [or professor] is simply reading the Bible outside of its actual historical context. I’m not alone in this. I personally know of no bona fide expert in the history of early Christian worship who would argue against my conclusions. (Oh, but I’m sure there’s one out there, somewhere!) I only know of ill-informed pastors or scholars who are non-experts in this field who argue that the original apostolic church didn’t observe the Lord’s Supper weekly. You see, we can actually look at the earliest churches that were established by the apostles and see that they clearly practiced the Lord’s Supper each Sunday in the gathered community. This isn’t a guessing game. It’s not a matter of some reading the Bible this way, others reading it that way. Being aware of the actual historical context, we will be equipped to read the New Testament descriptions and prescriptions in a clearer light. Sorry to say it, but your pastor or professor is reading into the New Testament what he or she wants to see in light of his or her modern church practices, personal preferences, or professional pride. They are not letting the Bible say what it said in its original first century context.

7. “Our church is too big to celebrate the Lord’s Supper each Sunday during the worship service. It’s a logistical nightmare!” Response: Somehow giant churches still manage to collect money every Sunday, and I’ve never heard anybody complain that it was a logistical nightmare! But even in churches with thousands in attendance, creative ways can be discovered to observe the Lord’s Supper weekly. Perhaps breaking into smaller groups throughout the facility after the sermon for the Communion component . . . or dismissing those who are not spiritually prepared during a brief intermission for preparation, then observing with those who remain . . . or working out a way to more rapidly distribute the elements to participants. Bottom line: if you value the Lord’s Supper as much as you value the collection of money, you can find a way to accommodate a church of thousands. (Also see my essay on problems with certain church ministry models that are not conducive to a weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper: “7 Church Ministry Models from Ideal to Awful.”)