Category Archives: Theology

NO! COVID-19 Is NOT a Fulfillment of Bible Prophecy

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I don’t remember anything quite like the COVID-19 pandemic, not in my lifetime. The personal, social, economic, and political effects have been staggering. “Unprecedented” has been used over and over again. It’s natural for people to think this is an epoch-altering event in human history. So, as a professor of theology with an expertise in eschatology (the doctrine of “last things” or “end times”), I’m not surprised that I’ve gotten a lot of questions about how (or whether) the Coronavirus may be related to Bible prophecy. 

Is the Coronavirus a fulfillment of biblical prophecy? Is it a sign that Christ is returning in our generation? A stage-setting step toward a global takeover by the Antichrist? Some insidious mechanism for foisting the mark of the beast upon unwitting hands and foreheads? 

My unhesitant answer?

No, it’s not. (At least not according to my theology of the end times.)

 Now, I know that answer won’t sell any books or get me any speaking invitations. And the numerous peddlers of this-is-that-ism already resent me for dousing their end-times fires with and abrupt “No.” Others will accuse me of being too hasty and dismissive, because maybe—just maybe—this is it! (Never mind the historical fact that the world has faced much, ­much worse pandemics than this one too many times to mention.) 

My reasons for not linking end-times prophecy to the COVID-19 pandemic are fourfold.  

1) We can’t know the times or seasons. In 1 Thessalonians 5:1-2, Paul says, “Now concerning the times and seasons, brothers, you have no need to have anything written to you. For you yourselves are fully aware that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.” By the first century, the phrase “day of the Lord” (yōm Yhwh; hēmera Kyriou) had become a technical phrase referring to any period of time characterized by God’s mediated visitation in judgment in this world (Isaiah 13:6, 9; Ezek. 13:5; Joel 1:15; 2:1, 11; 3:4; 4:14; Amos 5:18, 20; Obad. 15; Zeph. 1:7, 14; Mal. 3:23). Though there have been many “days of the Lord” throughout history, the New Testament looks forward to a final period of judgment on this earth—the ultimate “Day of the Lord,” characterized by the kinds of events described by Jesus in the Olivet Discourse (Matt. 24; Mark 13) and pictured in the symbolism of the book of Revelation—war, famine, disease, deception, etc. Some people call this period the “Tribulation.”  

In 1 Thessalonians 5, Paul says the destruction of the Day of the Lord will come “suddenly” (5:3), “like a thief in the night” (5:2). Like the time of the coming of Christ, we will not know “the times and the seasons” (5:1; cf. Acts 1:7 related to the coming of Christ as king). Unlike the more specific “day and hour,” the phrase “times and seasons” (chronoi kai kairoi) refers to a more general, indefinite period of time. Let me illustrate. Imagine if a certain satellite in orbit around the earth were bound to fall out of the sky and crash. But imagine scientists said, “Not only do we not know the day or hour, but we don’t even know the period of time or season.” In other words, we have no idea when the satellite will fall, we just know it will. Similarly, in 1 Thessalonians Paul communicates that we can be neither precise nor general in our estimation of when the Tribulation (“Day of the Lord”) will begin. 

Therefore, we can point to no current events—like COVID-19—as markers that we’re in the end times or even in the general time or season of end-times events.  

2) The Day of the Lord comes when people don’t expect it. In the same passage, Paul says the destruction of the Day of the Lord will come when people feel comfortable and secure. When they are saying, “Peace and security!” (1 Thes. 5:3), the destruction of the end-times Day of the Lord will come suddenly. The cry “peace and security” doesn’t mean they’re in the midst of horror and turmoil and they’re longing for peace and security. That explanation wouldn’t make sense because the inescapable destruction comes upon them “suddenly” and “like a thief in the night” (5:2-3). In fact, Jesus portrayed the ease people will be feeling prior to the coming of judgment this way: “But concerning that day and hour no one knows….For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day when Noah entered the ark, and they were unaware until the flood came and swept them all away” (Matt. 24:36-39). 

Both Paul and Jesus portray the sudden coming of the period of end-times judgments as preceded by a sense of calm, peace, and security, when people are carrying out their normal, everyday affairs like marriage and work (24:40-41). The coming of the Son of Man mentioned in this passage refers to his coming as the one who metes out judgment upon the earth, and that coming in judgment, known as the Tribulation or “Day of the Lord” will arrive like a thief in the night “at an hour you do not expect” (Matt. 24:42-44). 

The global COVID-19 pandemic, which has stolen people’s sense of peace and security and literally delayed normal, everyday events like marriages and work, doesn’t line up with the Bible’s own portrayal of the kinds of conditions immediately preceding the actual Day of the Lord. 

3) Nothing must precede the imminent Day of the Lord. Like many in the early church (Didache, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Hippolytus, Tertullian), I’m a futurist with regard to the coming seven-year Tribulation period, during which a literal Antichrist will wreak havoc on this world. This same period of time is the means by which God exercises judgment—the final Day of the Lord—partly prophesied in the Olivet Discourse (Matthew 24 [though I believe Jesus partly referred to events in the first century]), and more directly prophesied in the book of Revelation. I know this isn’t everybody’s view of the end times, but it’s mine, and it has strong early historical precedence. 

The fact that the coming of Christ in judgment and the commencement of the Day of the Lord (Tribulation) can occur at any time—and that there are no warnings prior to its start—means that coming period is imminent. There is no count-down. There are no signs that must occur prior to the Day of the Lord. No intermediate prophecy needs to be fulfilled. No global government established. No technology invented. No specific politician in power. In fact, a consistent futurist reading of Revelation would regard all the symbolic visions described in that book of Revelation as finding their fulfillment during (not before) the future seven-year Tribulation. This would correspond with Jesus’s often-misinterpreted statement that wars, earthquakes, death, pestilence, false religions, and persecution would appear in the world, but “these are but the beginning of birth pains” and “see that you are not alarmed, for this must take place, but the end is not yet” (Matt. 24:4-8). Such events have been occurring throughout the world, to varying degrees, since the ascension of Christ and establishment of the church. Though it would be accurate to say these foreshadow (or provide “types” for) the kinds of intensified judgments of the actual Day of the Lord period, none of them are, in fact, the judgments themselves. 

Of course, other views of the end times will render different results. The position known as “historicism,” which views the book of Revelation progressively fulfilled throughout history, would theoretically be open to any current events matching biblical prophecy. But a consistent futurist, like me, confines the fulfillment of these prophecies to the future. (And if one holds to a pre-tribulation rapture, the beginning of the Tribulation will be marked by that event, not preceded by any other.) 

Therefore, because I believe the Day of the Lord is a definite future period of time marked by certain very distinct conditions, before which there are no prophecies to be fulfilled, COVID-19 is not an event of the Tribulation period. 

4) No stage-setting events must precede the Day of the Lord. I’ve heard people say, “Well, this pandemic may not be the actual fulfillment of prophecy, but I think it’s setting the stage for it.” Then they may project some extremely speculative scenario in which a one-world government forms out of the COVID-19 crisis, some antichrist figure takes control, and the end-times prophecies come to pass. When I try to point out considerations 1–3 above, the response is something along the lines of “Well, you can’t be sure it isn’t preparing the way for the end times, so it’s better to be prepared.” 

I do believe that someday in the future (maybe near, maybe far), the events of the end times will take place. Therefore, at some point, events in our world will immediately precede (and, I suppose, set the stage for) the Day of the Lord in some way. And, nobody can know for sure whether today’s events fall into that unique category. This fact, however, would be utterly unknowable and completely irrelevant. Theologically speaking, everything that has occurred in history from Christ’s ascension forward can be viewed as in some way setting the stage for the future Tribulation. Events of history are connected in a complex web of cause-and-effect, all under the providence and sovereignty of God. The prophet Daniel said that God “changes times and seasons; he deposes kings and raises up others” (Dan. 2:21). 

But in light of points 1–3, there would be no way of knowing whether this or that current event is directly related to any stage-setting of end-times events within our own generation. So, it’s best not even to suggest this. Instead, we should apply Jesus’s words: “Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (Matt. 24:44). And “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:7-8). 

In my thirty-plus years of being a believer, I’ve seen outright date-setters, sign-seekers, and this-is-that proclaimers come and go. Those of us who remember Y2K (Google it), recall well-meaning Christians write books plotting out how that global crisis was going to lead to the rise of Antichrist and the end times. They did the same with 9/11. And with every other significant world crisis that’s come along. We’ve been through this all before. In fact, for 2000 years the church has had to deal with such end-times speculations based on even more deadly and tragic crises than COVID-19. 

But our job as Bible-believing Christians is not to look for signs, speculate about scenarios, or set dates. Our job is to be ready with lives of holiness and to preach the gospel to all peoples.

What We Should (and Shouldn’t) Do Through Remote Church Meetings

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When the infamous COVID-19 pandemic hit in 2020, I got a lot of of questions on what churches should and shouldn’t do in lieu of meeting together for live worship. Of course, eventually this question resolved itself as the current COVID-19 pandemic passed, things returned to normal, and restrictions on meetings were lifted. Yet at the time, this was a pressing question for many people. That pandemic proved to a challenge to many ecclesiologies, and in its wake, how we think about church, the purpose of the in-person gathering, and the role of online options has continued to challenge us. I don’t pretend to have the final answer on these issues, but I do have settled opinions—perspectives informed by my view of the church as a spiritual/physical, heavenly/earthly, visible/invisible reality, my insistence on a truly incarnational (embodied) ministry, and my view of the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s Supper as vital means of corporate sanctification. The basic DNA of my views on these matters is found in RetroChristianity: Reclaiming the Forgotten Faith as well as throughout this website in various essays on these topics. But in this essay I’d like to address some of the implications for the question of what we should (and shouldn’t) do through remote church meetings.

Appropriateness of Temporarily Suspending Meetings

First, I believe we may forego assembly in extreme cases. Historically the church has had to forgo gathering for severe plagues and persecutions until it was possible to reconvene meetings. And almost all of us recall instances when weather condition were so treacherous (hurricanes, tornadoes, flooding, ice storms, etc.) that gathering would be dangerous and even deadly. Such extreme scenarios don’t represent a willful and habitual forsaking of the assembly in violation of Hebrews 10:25. Rather, they are temporary, regrettable circumstances that eventually resolve themselves. So, a temporary moratorium on assembly in extreme cases—determined by the local church leadership in wise evaluation of current conditions—is not unreasonable, as long as we begin gathering as soon as we are able and don’t make the exception into the rule.

Reality of Some Members Unable to Attend

In reality, some members of your congregation are unable to attend meetings regularly because of sickness, injury, or frailty. Without this inhibitors, they would be able to be present. Included in this category are those who are “shut-ins,” unable to leave their home or facility, immunocompromised individuals for whom entering certain environments is dangerous, and other unique situations for which meeting is too challenging. In much of church history, those individuals deems willing but unable to attend in-person meetings received frequent (usually weekly) pastoral visits by an elder or deacon, who usually prayed with them, shared the contents of a sermon, read Scripture, and shared the Lord’s Supper with them, taken from the elements of the gathered worship. In these cases, remote participation may provide an additional supplement to help connect and incorporate such members into the live of the church.

Avoiding Extremes

Giving the realities that may prohibit corporate gathering or individual attendance, we need to acknowledge that there are some things we can do remotely and some things we can’t. We face two extremes, I think. On the one end is the position that we can do nothing remotely without physical gathering. On the other end is the view that we can do everything remotely and don’t actually need to gather physically. Both of these go too far. The question we should be asking is not whether we can do some things remotely in lieu of physical assembly but what things can we do remotely?

Yes, We Should Find Alternatives to Meeting

I think it’s clear that I believe that we can and ought to do some things remotely through whatever means is reasonably available to us in lieu of meeting together physically. I am certainly not in favor of permanently replacing physical gathering with online services; I’ve written and taught on this at length over the years. But temporarily turning to various tools to accomplish some things usually done in a corporate gathering is both wise and right, if the circumstances demand it—both corporately in extreme cases and individually in unique circumstances.

What Can Be Done Remotely

The key term is some things. There are certain things that can be done remotely, without a physically gathered community. They can’t be done perfectly, but I think doing these things imperfectly is better than not doing them at all. And though I don’t believe we can do everything imperfectly, I think it’s important that we do some things imperfectly. The Bible itself gives us a few examples of the kinds of things that can be done remotely through some means other than physical presence. In 1 Corinthians 5:3, Paul says, “For I, on my part, though absent in body but present in spirit, have already judged him who has so committed this, as though I were present.” Commentators differ on what Paul means by this. Certainly, he didn’t mean that his spirit was present in some sort of astral projection or out-of-body experience. I think he probably meant simply that through the medium of the letter he was writing, Paul was making his will and words “virtually present.” The reading of the letter took the place of Paul standing there and exercising his apostolic authority. In the same way, church leaders who use various media (letter, email, recorded message, live streaming, etc.) are projecting their words and will and are, in a sense, “present in spirit” though absent in body. In Paul’s letters, he can pray for the church (Phil. 1:9). He can admonish the church (1 Cor. 4:14). He can encourage generous giving (2 Cor. 9:1). And he can relay general instruction, exhortations, corrections, and so forth for the spiritual benefit of the church. In fact, Paul’s quotations of early Christian songs suggests even these can be communicated remotely to some effect (Col. 1:15ff.). I would say all of these things—prayer, teaching, exhorting, encouraging, giving, rebuking, and even songs and praise can and therefore should be done remotely through whatever means a church has available.

Personal Presence Still Preferred

We need to acknowledge that the personal presence and thus physical gathering should be preferred to being merely “present in spirit.” This is clear in the New Testament. The Apostle John, at the close of his second epistle, said, “Though I have many things to write to you, I do not want to do so with paper and ink; but I hope to come to you and speak face to face, so that your joy may be made full” (2 John 1:12). And in the third epistle he said, “I had many things to write to you, but I am not willing to write them to you with pen and ink; but I hope to see you shortly, and we will speak face to face” (3 John 1:13-14). And Paul, Silas, and Timothy communicated to the Thessalonians, “Having been taken away from you for a short while—in person, not in spirit—[we] were all the more eager with great desire to see your face” (1 Thess. 2:17). Some might counter that a synchronous, live video actually fulfills this “face-to-face” desire; but not so fast. Most streamed church services are not “face-to-face” in any case—I can see the presenter, but the presenter cannot see me. Only small groups are able to have actual face-to-face video conferencing for their church services. Most are just the leaders being broadcast to a passive audience observing from the other end of the stream. Thus, they are functionally equivalent to a video epistle. But all this aside, let’s be honest: we all know that physical presence with family members, loved ones, and friends is always preferable to audio or video media, regardless of how interactive the technology. We long for personal presence. It’s how God made us. No video or highly realistic virtual reality can replace personal presence.

What Can’t Be Done Remotely

There are some things that cannot be done apart from personal, physical gathering. Paul wrote to the Romans, “I long to see you so that I may impart some spiritual gift to you, that you may be established; that is, that I may be encouraged together with you while among you, each of us by the other’s faith, both yours and mine” (Rom. 1:11-12). Even though Paul could do many things through his “spiritual presence” by means of the letter to the Romans, communicating his love, his knowledge, and his will through those inspired words, it fell short of a truly incarnational, in-person, one-another ministry. The spiritual gift of mutual edification—exercising the gifts the Spirit for the building up of one another—could only be done in the gathered community (see 1 Cor. 12­–14). This is what we mean by the “priesthood of all believers”—not that we are our own priests, but that we are each other’s priests as we exercise our spiritual gifts for the benefit of each other, shoulder to shoulder, face to face, and sometimes back-to-back as we battle against sin, the flesh, and the devil together. It takes the gathered, in-the-flesh assembly for this kind of community.

What About the Lord’s Supper?

Finally, I hate to have to say this, but I strongly believe the sacraments are in this final category. The Lord’s Supper was instituted by Christ as a gathered community realization of true incarnational fellowship. Nothing done online or remotely can even approximate it. It should never be disembodied. The use of video media is by definition not incarnational. I have a good test to determine whether what we’re doing is actually “incarnational”: if you can’t get bruised doing it, it’s not incarnational. “Incarnational” means “in the flesh,” and it necessarily requires physical presence. With regard to the Lord’s Supper in particular, it’s supposed to be the gathered church body partaking of one bread (1 Cor. 10:17). With such an emphasis on partaking of one loaf, there would be no thought of an observance of the Supper without an actual gathering of the body. Paul wrote, “Since there is one bread, we who are many are one body; for we all partake of the one bread” (1 Cor. 10:17). And Paul said to the erring Corinthians, “When you meet together, it is not the Lord’s Supper” (11:20). The implication, of course, is that the gathering together should involve the Lord’s Supper; this makes sense because the proper participation of the Supper as a sign of their union with one another in one body with Christ was the breaking of the one single loaf and sharing of the cup. That we have replaced this sharing of the one loaf with individual crackers and individual cups of juice should not be an excuse for then taking the next step away from Scripture toward an observance of the Lord’s Supper without actually gathering together physically, face-to-face. Paul even urges the Corinthians to “wait for one another” when they come together for the Lord’s Supper (1 Cor. 11:33). Should we not, then, wait for one another to participate in the Lord’s Supper together when we are able again to gather as the church? We would not baptize ourselves or wash our own feet or anoint ourselves with oil and lay hands on ourselves; nor is the family the proper unit of the church within which these acts of the body of Christ should take place. Instead of making a mockery of the Supper by doing it in a way it was never meant to be done, we should forego its observance until we can do it properly. It is entirely possible to observe “the Lord’s Supper” so deficiently that it is not the Lord’s Supper (1 Cor. 11:20). Calling something the Lord’s Supper does not make it so. Doing it as instructed makes it so, and that means “when you come together” (11:20). (Reminder: as mentioned above, the early church rightly administered the Lord’s Supper to “shut-ins”—the sick or frail or imprisoned who were unable to attend the gathered fellowship. In fact, this should still be our practice, as it is in many churches. However, this sharing with the shut-ins should be done from the very Supper that had been shared in the assembly, and it should be done personally and physically by an elder or deacon; it should not be done independently and without a pastoral presence.)

To conclude, during crises or circumstances in which we are not able to meet together, let me encourage all my fellow church leaders to do what you can—and do everything you can—remotely, by whatever means you can do them. Pray for each other, exhort and encourage each other, teach and correct, rebuke and train by remote means. Continue giving to your churches and support them in whatever way you can. But also acknowledge that these things can only be done imperfectly until we are able to do them in person more perfectly. And don’t be tricked into thinking that we can do everything a church is supposed to do apart from a physical gathering. That’s simply not true, especially in the case of those things intended to underscore the incarnation of Christ itself—the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

Introducing “A Practical Primer on Theological Method”

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After many years of teaching systematic theology, historical theology, and theological method, Dr. Glenn R. Kreider and I wrote A Practical Primer on Theological Method: Table Manners for Discussing God, His Works, and His Way (Zondervan). As the result of months of discussion, planning, collaboration, and refinement, we’re proud of the final product and delighted to release it to the church.

A primer (rhymes, oddly, with “trimmer,” not with “timer”) is defined as “a small introductory book on a subject.” An effective primer should equip a reader who is completely unfamiliar with a particular field of study with the basic information needed to advance to more technical works on a topic. As such, to write a primer on anything is a challenging task. By styling something a “primer,” we allege that it’s an elementary textbook or basic introduction to a subject; in this case, to theological method. But as any of our colleagues in theological studies know, the subject of theological method is not a simple one. “Elementary” can quickly collapse into “over-simplified,” and when we seek to write an “introduction,” we can wind up slipping into a “superficial treatment.” Acknowledging the challenges, what we present in A Practical Primer on Theological Method is, we hope, somewhere in the “Goldilocks” zone—not too hard, not too soft . . . just right.

What We’re Doing

We define theology as “discourse concerning God, his works, and his ways.” Theological method, then, is defined as the manner, mode, and means of participating in discourse concerning God, his works, and his ways. The three M’s in this definition tend to overlap in their conventional uses today, but in our definition, “manner” refers to the attitude, disposition, or orientation toward theology; “mode” is the mechanics, procedures, or techniques of theology; and “means” refers to the sources, resources, or tools we use in theology. In A Practical Primer on Theological Method, we interact with all of these as we work our way around a table occupied by various dialogue partners typical of theological discourse in the modern world. These symbolic personae include the Interpreter (representing the field of exegesis and biblical studies), the Theologian (Christian dogmatics in the shadow of the Great Tradition), the Virtuous (ethics, virtue, and character formation), the Philosopher (philosophical studies), the Scientist (the wide range of soft and hard sciences), the Artist (arts and culture), the Minister (ordained and lay ministry), and the Historian (history and historical theology).

In this volume we explore how each of these intersecting and overlapping disciplines interact with God’s threefold revelation: the Word to the World, the Word in the World, and the World of the Word. According to Scripture and the classic integrative approach to theology, God has revealed himself, his works, and his ways through these three means. The Word to the World refers to God’s verbal revelation through prophets, apostles, angels, and other verbal means. Today this verbal revelation is preserved for us in and as the inspired, inerrant Scriptures of the Old and New Testament canon. The Word in the World refers first and foremost to Jesus Christ, the incarnate Word; but by the work of the Holy Spirit and the resulting union with Christ, it extends to the body of Christ, the church, as the Spirit-indwelled mediators of his mission, manifesting God’s active presence in the world. The World of the Word refers to everything created and sustained by God, through his eternal Word, by the Spirit—things visible and invisible. Creation is a relentless and unimpeachable witness of the greatness and glory of God and a source of valuable knowledge of his works and ways.

It should be clear already that our intention for A Practical Primer on Theological Method has not been to say in simpler words and fewer pages what others have said in complex jargon and multiple volumes. Nor is our goal merely to survey the landscape of theological methods and let beginners know what’s out there. There’s a place for such books in a theologian’s library, but this is not that kind of book. In our book, we’re not presenting patristic method, or medieval method, or protestant method, or evangelical method, or enlightenment method, or biblicist method, or conservative method, or liberal method, or Baptist method, or covenantal method, or dispensational method, or Thomist method, or Anglican method, or any other provisional method. Rather, we present what may be called an integrative theological method in the classic Christian tradition. We believe that if all of the distinct approaches to theological method were to be blended together, the result would not be a bland, vanilla method but an approach to theology composed of the unique colors, flavors, scents, and textures of a variety of historical and contemporary theological methods. This is what we’ve tried to accomplish in the short space of this small book—about 150 pages, including footnotes but not counting the front matter and indexes!

To this end, we’ve made a conscious attempt to interact with the insights and perspectives of theological traditions sometimes much broader than our own. Glenn and I are confessedly “five-sola” Protestants with an obvious affection for Augustine, Calvin, Edwards, and the broadly Reformed tradition. But we don’t shy away from drawing from patristic, medieval, and modern-era authors where their theological fruits are sweet or their words nourishing. And though we are twenty-first century American theologians, we are deeply indebted to the ideas of men and women from past generations, who have lived in remote parts of the world, spoken different languages, and lived out their theology in cultural contexts very different from our own—as well as those living out their Christian convictions in a variety of cultures throughout the world today.

We know that colleagues from our own institution and churches—not to mention from other institutions as well as varying theological traditions—won’t necessarily see eye to eye on everything we’ve presented in A Practical Primer. That’s unavoidable. However, we trust that in these pages we’ve given all of us things to think about and to talk about. We ask that the seriousness of the issues we present in this volume won’t be rejected because of the chosen format of a “practical primer” for popular audiences. We also ask that readers approach this primer with the tone of voice with which it is intended—as a conversation starter, not a conversation stopper; as a conversation continuer, not a conversation killer.We invite not only the critical friendship of supporters of our approach to theological method but also the friendly criticisms of detractors.

How We Do It

There’s no other book on theological method quite like A Practical Primer. It should prove to be an informative and stimulating read for both theology students “fresh-from-the-garden” and “well-seasoned” theologians in retirement. Let me describe for you the basic outline as well as the special features used to induct our readers into the exciting world of theological studies.

First, the introduction and chapters 1–3 form the theological, philosophical, and methodological foundation of this book. They should be read with care:

  • Introduction: Around the Table
  • Chapter 1: What Theological Method Is and Isn’t
  • Chapter 2: Revelation at the Center
  • Chapter 3: Three Cords of God’s Revelation

Chapters 4–11 then constitute the heart of the book. Each chapter focuses on a vital perspective necessary for a well-balanced approach to theological discourse. Chapter 12 concludes the book with a brief summation, an illustration, and an invitation to join the fellowship of saints engaged in theological discourse:

  • Chapter 4: The Role of the Interpreter
  • Chapter 5: The Task of the Theologian
  • Chapter 6: The Burden of the Virtuous
  • Chapter 7: The Quest of the Philosopher
  • Chapter 8: The Pursuit of the Scientist
  • Chapter 9: The Passion of the Artist
  • Chapter 10: The Labor of the Minister
  • Chapter 11: The Voice of the Historian
  • Chapter 12: Invitation to the Table

Complementing the main text, we’ve dropped in a number of helpful features:

  • The Centerpiece feature provides the basic thesis of each chapter in one or two short sentences. If you ever forget what the chapter is about or what we’re arguing, you can refer back to the centerpiece at the beginning.
  • FAQs call attention to frequently asked questions that have come to us over the years from students or colleagues. Though these questions—and many more—are addressed in the main text as well, we believe certain common questions deserve brief, succinct answers to aid in clarity or underscore their importance.
  • The At the Table features in chapters 4–11 indicate several of the intersecting fields of inquiry and study that make up each seat at the Table. These are only examples. Some of these fields fit into more than one seat, indicating the interdisciplinary nature of theological method.
  • Taking Your Seat highlights practical implications and applications from each chapter. This gives us an opportunity to address our readers directly, urging specific changes of mind, attitude, or actions.
  • At the end of each chapter, we drop in on the Jerusalem Council to see how the principles of the Table were applied to a specific doctrinal and practical issue in the apostolic church. This gives a biblical example of the integrative, dialogical theological method in action.

Our Invitation to You

A Practical Primer on Theological Method is an invitation. Whether you know it or not, each of you has a voice in the ancient and ongoing discourse concerning God, his works, and his ways. From the seminary president to the freshman theologue, from the senior pastor to the new believer, from the professional theologian trying to teach future ministers to the faithful grandmother trying to teach her grandchildren about Jesus . . . you’re invited. You simply need to pull up a chair and join the conversation. But how? What do you say when you take your seat? Where do you start? What are the “rules” of the dialogue?

A Practical Primer on Theological Method will help you answer these questions and more. This primer is not only a “how-to” manual for doing theology. It’s also a handbook of etiquette for doctrinal discussions with other believers. This popular-level introductory text presents the proper manner, mode, and means of engaging faithfully and fruitfully in theology.

You can order A Practical Primer today at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0310588804/

or directly from the publisher at https://www.zondervan.com/9780310588801/a-practical-primer-on-theological-method/.

Should Unbaptized Believers Be Invited to the Lord’s Table?

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For many churches and denominations, it would be unthinkable that a believer who has not been baptized as a mark of initiation into the covenant community would be invited to partake of the covenant community’s most intimate observance, the Lord’s Supper (or “eucharist,” “communion,” or “Lord’s Table”). Usually such churches initiate their members at a young age, if not in infancy, or they have a fairly high view of baptism and its role not only as a public profession of personal faith but also as a rite of initiation into the community of the faithful.

However, many other churches—usually of the independent evangelical “Bible-church” variety—have hardly considered the question. Many believers in those churches would be surprised that this even is a question. These congregations often practice communion in a way that makes it open to anybody who professes faith in Christ—even if it’s a quiet, invisible, personal, and sudden faith in response to the message just preached. It becomes, as it were, a point of personal devotion and reflection, unconnected to the person’s relationship with the covenanted community and body of Christ through the act of baptism.

In the following, I will make a biblical-theological and historical case for the order of baptismal initiation first, followed by observance of the Lord’s Supper, which should be shared only among those who are baptized. Simply put, the historical innovation of inviting unbaptized believers to the fellowship of the Lord’s Table is a practice that must stop if we are to conform to the pattern established by the apostles and maintain the sacred rites of baptism and the Lord’s Supper in the manner in which they were given.

NOTE: Prior to presenting these arguments, I need to acknowledge that some of the discussion in this essay depends on understanding the multi-faceted role of baptism as articulated in my “Elephant” series here as well as the case for a weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper in my essay here. I would recommend reading those articles as a background to the arguments presented in this essay.

 

Biblical-Theological Considerations

Observance of the Lord’s Supper in the New Testament assumes the order of baptism into the visible body of Christ followed by the observance of the eucharist or communion as the gathered church. In 1 Corinthians 10:17, Paul says, “Because there is one bread, the many are one body, for the many partake from the one bread.” We partake together of the one bread (that is, breaking the one loaf into pieces and all partaking of the single loaf) because we are “one body,” that is, to visibly reinforce our confession of being “one body.”

Here the term sōma is not a reference to the physical body of Christ present in the bread, but the assembled church as the body of Christ, united as one corporate body in its gathering and symbolized by the partaking of the one bread. Thus, the participation in the observance of the bread is intended for those who are, in fact, united with the body, the church. We are united with the body through baptism (1 Cor. 12:12–13). Some have rebutted that this is “Spirit baptism,” not water baptism. Well, then, let them that are only baptized spiritually partake of the Lord’s Supper “spiritually,” and leave the physical elements alone. It is in any case best that we abandon this kind of dualism typical of ancient gnosticism in our approach to the church and sacraments and rather hold the spiritual and physical together in an incarnational theology. After all it, the church is called the body of Christ, not the soul or spirit of Christ. The physical-spiritual observance of the ordinance of bread and wine is for the church body gathered; an initiation and consecration into that church body is only accomplished by water baptism, a physical-spiritual act. I can see no logical way to make sense of Paul’s analogy of body unity through the supper in 1 Corinthians 10:17 except by assuming the participants have become members of the one body through baptismal initiation.

This “first-baptism-then-communion” order is also set forth in Paul’s typological treatment of Moses’s “baptism” and participation of the “manna” in the wilderness in 1 Corinthians 10, which “happened as examples (typoi) for us.” He says, “Our fathers were all under the cloud and all passed through the sea” (10:1). The cloud was the presence of God himself, the Shekinah glory. The sea, of course, was the Red Sea. He goes on: “All were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea” (10:2). The New Testament anti-type to Paul’s Old Testament type here is Spirit-baptism (cloud) and water baptism (sea). Just as the Old Covenant people of God were typologically “baptized” into Moses by the Spirit of the cloud and the water of the sea, New Covenant believers are baptized into Christ by Spirit-baptism and water-baptism. Note that they are not baptized into Christ by one or the other, or by one instead of the other, but necessarily by both held together in unity. Again, a biblical-theological view of the sacraments avoids dualism that separates the physical and spirit and pits one against the other or exalts one above the other. An authentically Christian view of the sacraments is incarnational, the spiritual and physical together without confusion or mixture and without separation or division.

Then, in verses 3-4, Paul writes, “And all ate the same spiritual food; and all drank the same spiritual drink.” The New Testament anti-type of this Old Testament spiritual food and drink is the Lord’s Supper, which Paul is about to discuss in just a few verses in chapter 10 and then again in chapter 11. Thus, the context affirms this identification of the typology with baptism and the Lord’s Supper. The order is clear: Spirit-baptism (conversion) and water-baptism closely associated with it (see Heb. 10:22), then participation in spiritual food and drink (the Lord’s Supper). As a background confirmation of this analogy, the term “spiritual food and drink” is also used in the first-century Didache 10.1 in reference to the eucharistic observance. Therefore, reading Scripture in its actual historical context, Paul’s first-century readers of 1 Corinthians 10:3-4 would have understood his typology as an obvious reference to the spiritual corporate discipline of observing the Lord’s Supper, which came after (not before) baptism into Christ both by the Spirit and by water.

Also, the order of baptism and the Lord’s Supper in the narratives of Scripture is consistent. Christ said in the Great Commission, “Make disciples by baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and [then] teaching them to observe whatsoever I have commanded” (Matt. 28:19–20). The Lord’s Supper, as an ordinance and command of Christ to be observed by the church as a sign of their corporate relationship to the New Covenant, is part of that which the baptized disciples are to observe. And in Acts 2, we read, “So then, those who had received his word were baptized; and that day there were added about three thousand souls” (2:41). Then, “they were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (2:42). Nowhere in Scripture is this order reversed.

Further, the biblical teaching concerning church discipline requires a baptized membership accountable to a baptismal pledge of repentance and discipleship. If a person has not actually committed to a life of discipleship and allegiance to Christ through baptism, how is it that the Lord holds them to such a commitment by disciplining those who partake of the Lord’s Supper unworthily (1 Cor. 11:27–34)? That is, a person is admitted to fellowship in the church body and charged with holding the faith and living the life of a consecrated disciple at baptism. (See here for a fuller explanation of baptism as a pledge to live the consecrated life.) Those baptized, consecrated believers are then the ones who are accountable to live lives that “judge the body rightly” (1 Cor. 11:29). The “body” here is not a reference to Christ’s physical body at the right hand of the Father, but a reference to church body united together by baptism. (See here for a fuller explanation of baptism as initiation into the covenant community of the church.) There is no room here for the participation of unbaptized (that is, non-consecrated, non-committed, and non-covenanted) professors of faith.

Besides this, we must note the correspondence of the language of 1 Corinthians 11:33—“when you come together to eat, wait for one another”; and 11:18—“when you come together as a church”; and 11:20—“when you meet together, it is not to eat the Lord’s Supper.” Clearly the “coming together” is a reference to the gathering of “the church,” which is, of course, the congregation of the baptized believers, members of the body through baptismal initiation. They are not merely those who have had a personal experience of faith or feel converted by their own personal standards; this conversion is confirmed by the church through proper training, testing, and then initiation by baptism. Only then is one counted a member of the church, the visible corporate body of Christ. And members of the church body, they gather with the church to eat the Lord’s Supper (11:18, 20, 33).

Biblically, the order is evident: first, baptism as the visible act of initiation into the new covenant community, second, the Lord’s Supper as the visible act of covenant renewal among members of the baptized community. Therefore, from the perspective of biblical-theological evidence, the burden of proof is on the person who would invite unbaptized believers to communion. The burden of proof is not on the person who requires that baptism be a pre-requisite for communion.

 

Historical Considerations

The first-century handbook for early church plants called the Didache (c. AD 50–70), instructs early church leaders regarding the proper practice of the eucharist (or “Lord’s Supper”) as follows: “But none shall eat or shall drink from your eucharist but those baptized in the name of the Lord” (Did. 9.5). This practice is in keeping with the pattern we see in the New Testament. This isn’t a case of early Christian legalism. This is the normal Christian practice of the early church (see Justin Martyr, 1 Apol. 66). It is in keeping with the establishment of the apostles and the logic that only those who have been initiated into the covenanted body of the church are to be admitted to the rite of covenant renewal that symbolizes the unity of that one body. Quite bluntly, to the early Christian, inviting an unbaptized believer to the Lord’s Supper would be like inviting an unmarried couple to the wedding bed! Having not entered into a covenant commitment to live a life of discipleship through baptism, why are they invited to the table where they are renewing that confession and commitment?

Historically, the order of baptismal initiation into the covenanted community followed by renewal of that covenant at communion has also been the universal practice of the church from the first century to the seventeenth. Even in Jonathan Edwards’ (17thcentury) disagreement with his grandfather, Solomon Stoddard, over who should be invited to the Lord’s Table, the issue was never whether unbaptized professors of faith should partake of the supper. Both men agreed that communion of the unbaptized was absurd; church membership and communion required baptism. Edwards wrote, “None should be admitted but such as were visibly regenerated, as well as baptized with outward baptism” (“Inquiry Concerning Qualification for Communion,” Part 2, Section 1.9). The issue was rather whether subsequent visible signs of genuine saving grace were necessary for baptized Christians prior to full church membership and thus participation in communion. Simply put, there would be no case in which a non-church member would be admitted to communion and there would be no case in which a non-baptized person would be admitted into church membership. In New England Congregationalism, being baptized as an infant did not guarantee full church membership, and neither did it guarantee participation at the table. But no unbaptized believer was ever admitted to communion. Such an allowance would be scandalous.

Among Baptists, who baptized only upon a profession of faith, a new issue began to surface. The practice of administering communion to those who were regarded by Baptists as “unbaptized” (that is, those baptized as infants) began with John Bunyan (17thcentury) and his circle. At the time, it was a controversial and, frankly, “progressive” practice. In 1814, Andrew Fuller, writing regarding Bunyan’s position, noted, “If Mr. Bunyan’s position be tenable, however, it is rather singular that it should have been so long undiscovered; for it does not appear that such a notion was ever advanced till he or his contemporaries advanced it. Whatever difference of opinion had subsisted among Christians concerning the mode and subjects of baptism, I have seen no evidence that baptism was considered by any one as unconnected with or unnecessary to the supper” (Andrew Fuller, The Admission of Unbaptized Persons to the Lord’s Supper Inconsistent with the New Testament: A Letter to a Friend [1814], 10-11).

Historically, the original and enduring practice—for centuries—has been baptism as the rite of initiation in the covenant community (whether paedo-baptism or credo-baptism) followed by the Lord’s Supper as the rite of covenant renewal. Only in the seventeenth century was the alternative perspective seriously considered by some. Since then, this progressive novelty has spread especially among independent evangelical churches. Therefore, from the perspective of historical evidence, the burden of proof is on the person who would invite unbaptized believers to communion. The burden of proof is not on the person who requires that baptism be a pre-requisite for communion.

 

Conclusion: No, Unbaptized Believers Should Not Be Invited to the Lord’s Table

It is not right nor safe for churches to invite the unbaptized to the table. No pastor, board of elders, denominational authority, Bible scholar, or professor of theology has the authority to undo what the apostles established and what churches practiced for sixteen centuries. And leaving the decision up to the individual is no solution. It makes no sense to relinquish pastoral responsibility over the proper admission to the table and rather to give this authority to the individual or the family to decide. In so doing, how are we not corporately failing to “discern the body”?

This is a serious matter, as both baptism and the Lord’s Supper are solemn, covenantal acts. The Lord’s Supper is not a point of personal devotion, but a point of corporate covenant renewal. And by “corporate” I mean the gathered visible body of Christ—the church established as such by baptism.

The biblical, theological, and historical facts place the burden of proof on the person who would invite unbaptized believers to communion. The burden of proof is not on the person who requires that baptism be a pre-requisite for communion. That is, the default position should be the requirement of baptism for participation in the Lord’s Supper; any differing practice must meet the burden of proof to demonstrate biblically, historically, theologically, and practically how deviating from this conservative position is proper and permissible.

A Few Thoughts on the Decalogue of Moses and the Disciple of Jesus

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There are Christians today who teach that the Decalogue (or Ten Commandments) are inseparable from the Law of Moses and that the Law of Moses (as framed in Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy) is inextricable from the Old Covenant in which it was given. Thus, as such, the Law of Moses (including the Ten Commandments as given through him) is not the positive rule of life for the believer, as we are not under the Old Covenant, but the New. These teachers include most who would identify themselves as “Dispensationalists,” but also those who hold to the recent movement in biblical theology called “New Covenant Theology.” However, the Reformed tradition going back to such reformers as Calvin, Zwingli, and Bucer and reflected in Reformed confessions would understand the Ten Commandments (the Decalogue) as in force today. They would be in good company, as many in the patristic and medieval churches would honor the Decalogue as a rule of life for Christians, reflecting God’s moral law as consistent with His moral character. This same moral law, incidentally, is viewed as concurring harmoniously with the natural moral law revealed in the heart of humanity (Rom. 2:14–15).

The present differing opinion between the abrogationist position and the continuationist position relates to an age-old debate regarding the right and proper uses of the Law for Christians. Most Protestants in the Reformation agreed (and still agree) that the Law of Moses (including the Ten Commandments) was intended to function for the Christian as a Sündenspiegel—a “mirror of sin,” revealing that we have sin and are guilty before God. It is also a Sündenriegel—or “restraint against sin,” holding back sin in our lives by revealing God’s disfavor of certain acts. However, a third use of the Law for the Christian was a point of some contention between some Lutherans and Calvinists—whether the Law (including the Ten Commandments) was intended to be a Lebensregel, or “rule of life,” that Christians were to positively follow as an external code, including the rule to keep the Sabbath.

Abrogationists take the position that the entire Law of Moses as codified and expressed in the commands and ordinances given at Sinai was part of a particular covenant relationship with Israel and with nobody else. Thus, technically, the Ten Commandments were given for Israel. Why? Because the Church does not relate to God through the Old Covenant of Moses but through the New Covenant of Christ. Does this, then, mean that abrogationists believe it’s permissible under the New Covenant to murder, commit adultery, worship other gods, or bear false witness against one’s neighbor? Is this antinomianism or libertinism? No. Those who hold that the Law was abrogated by Christ believe the Ten Commandments were covenantal and contextualized articulations of God’s positive eternal principles of love, goodness, justice, etc. They affirm that the Ten Commandments do reflect God’s eternal moral law, which is also reflected non-verbally in the heart as the law of nature. But the fact that God articulated the Ten Commandments as negatives (do not murder, do not commit adultery, etc.) would suggest to abrogationists that God’s eternal moral principles are refracted through the prism of a particular covenantal relationship at Sinai. That is, phrasing the commands in the negative implies that the people addressed would be inclined toward murder, adultery, lying, covetousness, etc. One would expect God’s moral principles, in conformity with His eternal nature and character, to be expressed positively—love life, be faithful, be truthful, be content.

Abrogationists would accept that the Ten Commandments are perfectly valid for showing a person how they fall short of God’s moral will; but the positive rule of life for the believer would be more like what the New Testament refers to as the fruit of the Spirit. That is, it is the Holy Spirit producing in the truly regenerate believers a spontaneous desire to love God and love others and thus manifest the “fruit of the Spirit.” Paul the Apostle said, “But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the Law. Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you, just as I have forewarned you, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law” (Gal. 5:18-23).

Thus, in the abrogationist perspective, for Christians walking in the Spirit, neither the Ten Commandments nor any other laws, commandments, and statutes of the Old Covenant of the Mosaic code are the normal “rule of life.” This is not lawlessness; it is lawfulfillness. This would be the typical view among abrogationists who view the Ten Commandments as essentially inseparable from the moral, civil, and ceremonial laws as well as from the hundreds of other commandments that expound on details of the covenant life of Israel. Nor are they separable from the promised benefits or condemnations that came along with obedience or disobedience of the Law. As such, the Ten Commandments may be a contextualized and covenantal reflection of God’s eternal moral will for His people, but to the abrogationist, the eternal ethic is actually positive. When a confessing Christian fails to walk in the Spirit and thus fulfill the eternal moral law of God, the Ten Commandments can be appealed to as a Sündenspiegel to show a person their transgression—like guidelines and guard rails on a road. But those guards are not the road itself, and they only come into play when a person swerves from the path they’re supposed to be following (Sündenriegel). The abrogationist will generally argue that to use the Ten Commandments as the Lebensregel or “rule of life” could lead to a kind of superficial self-righteousnessthat says, “I haven’t murdered, so I’m okay with God” or “I haven’t committed adultery, so I’m good.” It would be like a driver saying, “I haven’t gone into the ditch, so I’m a good driver,” all the while swerving back and forth erratically and running over road hazards.    

As a rule, confessional Reformed Christians hold the Ten Commandments to be a revelation of God’s moral law that is binding on believers as a rule of life. Most are bound to this view by their governing confession of faith. However, other theologians from various traditions and confessions are free to discuss different perspectives on how the Ten Commandments and other Old Testament laws and statutes may or may not apply directly or indirectly to the life of the disciple of Jesus. The questions are not irrelevant. Are we obligated to rest on the seventh day (Saturday)? Or on the first (Sunday)? Or at all? Must we tithe ten percent of our income to the church? Stone disobedient children? Can we eat blood sausage (Blutwurst)? Bacon? How old and obsolete (and thus abrogated) is the Old Covenant Law for those under the New Covenant? Doesn’t the command to love God and love one another fulfill the spirit of the Law—that is, the eternal moral Law of God? The abrogationist would appeal to the New Testament idea that with the changing of the priesthood, the Law also is changed (Heb. 17:12); and that the death of Christ has abolished the Law of commandments (Eph. 2:15).

Abrogationists do not believe Christians under the New Covenant are free to murder, commit adultery, blaspheme, etc.—things forbidden by the Ten Commandments. What they say is that Christians are not a party to the Mosaic Covenant given at Sinai, where Israelites placed themselves under the Decalogue and the other ordinances and statutes as a response to their redemption from Egypt and as part of a unique covenant relationship with God. However, though the Ten Commandments were not for the Church, this doesn’t leave Christians without moral imperatives. In fact, the commandments of the Law of Christ to love God and love others, to reflect faith, hope, and love in everything, and to manifest the fruit of the Spirit in all situations—these things are more demanding, as Christ articulated in His Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5). To fulfill Christ’s law of love is to surpass the external stipulations of the Ten Commandments, as Paul taught in Galatians 5:18, 22-23.

Though this abrogationist approach may not be in conformity with the written confessions of the Reformed churches, this approach is not a novelty and not a heresy. It is similar to the view articulated by the second century Christian apologist, Justin Martyr (c. AD 150), in his Dialogue with Trypho, a dispute with an unbelieving Jew. Justin writes, “Nor have we trusted in any other (for there is no other), but in Him in whom you [Jews] also have trusted, the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob. But we do not trust through Moses or through the law; for then we would do the same as yourselves. But now—for I have read that there shall be a final law, and a covenant, the chiefest of all, which it is now incumbent on all men to observe, as many as are seeking after the inheritance of God. For the law promulgated on Horeb is now old, and belongs to yourselves alone; but this is for all universally. Now, law placed against law has abrogated that which is before it, and a covenant which comes after in like manner has put an end to the previous one; and an eternal and final law—namely, Christ—has been given to us, and the covenant is trustworthy, after which there shall be no law, no commandment, no ordinance” (Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 11).

Similarly, Irenaeus of Lyons, a late second century student of Justin Martyr and defender of the faith against heretics like the Gnostics and Marcion, put it this way: “Since, then, by this calling life has been given (us), and God has summed up again for Himself in us the faith of Abraham, we ought not to turn back any more—I mean, to the first legislation. For we have received the Lord of the Law, the Son of God; and by faith in Him we learn to love God with all our heart, and our neighbour as ourselves. Now the love of God is far from all sin, and love to the neighbour worketh no ill to the neighbour. Wherefore also we need not the Law as a tutor. Behold, with the Father we speak, and in His presence we stand, being children in malice, and grown strong in all righteousness and soberness. For no longer shall the Law say, Do not commit adultery, to him who has no desire at all for another’s wife; and Thou shalt not kill, to him who has put away from himself all anger and enmity; (and) Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s field or ox or ass, to those who have no care at all for earthly things, but store up the heavenly fruits: nor An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, to him who counts no man his enemy, but all men his neighbors, and therefore cannot stretch out his hand at all for vengeance.” (Irenaeus, Demonstration of the Apostolic Preaching 95).

Besides this, we have the evidence of the “Two Ways” section of the Didache, a first-century pre-baptismal catechetical manual (c. 50-70), the earliest of its kind writing during the age of the apostles themselves. In its opening chapters describing the “way of life” of a consecrated disciple of Jesus, the author gives no sustained, orderly articulation of the Ten Commandments as a Lebensregel. The ethical and moral principles reflected in the Ten Commandments are clearly present, but the expectation of the disciple of Jesus is quite clearly deeper, broader, and loftier than the stipulations of the Law. The Didachist writes, “And the second commandment of the teaching is this: Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not sodomize, do not commit sexual immorality, do not steal, do not practice magic, do not use potions, do not murder a child by abortion, do not kill the just-born one, do not yearn after the things of your neighbor. Do not commit perjury, do not bear false witness, do not speak evil of anyone, do not bear a grudge. You will be neither double-minded nor double-tongued; for being double-tongued is a snare of death. Your speech should not be false or empty, but filled with action. Do be not greedy, or vicious, or a hypocrite, or spiteful, or proud. Do take up not an evil plan against your neighbor. Do not hate any person, but some you should correct, others you should pray for and others you should love even more than your own life” (Didache 2.1–7). This articulation of the Christians’ “Do Nots” are not a framed, embossed, or stained-glass repetition of the Ten Commandments. These are much closer to Paul’s “deeds of the flesh” vices (Gal. 5:19–21).

In short, the abrogationist position on the replacement of the Ten Commandments as a rule of life (Lebensregel) by Christ, the law of love, and the fruit of the Spirit is certainly not the same as the later patristic catholic church, the Medieval Catholic Church, or the standard Reformed catholic confessions. But it is in keeping with some of the orthodox leaders of the earliest catholic Christianity of the first and second centuries. The Ten Commandments were not presented by the earliest Church as the foundation of its catechetical moral instruction, as evidenced by the first-century Didache.Yes, the Ten Commandments portion of the covenant with Israel at Horeb eventually worked its way into the deontological ethic of the church and became immortalized as a Lebensregel in especially the Reformed confessions. This is not disputed. But its place as a rule of life in the earliest apostolic and post-apostolic periods is not at all clear or secure. At least the abrogationist call for a deeper, broader, and loftier application of the eternal law of love and fruit of the Spirit, against which there is no Law, cannot be regarded as heresy without defining heresy as “taking a position that differs from our provincial denominational confession written less than 500 years ago.” The testimonies of Justin, Irenaeus, and the earliest church do not allow such a declaration.

My hope here is not to change anybody’s mind from a continuationist to an abrogationist position on the role of the Decalogue in the Christian life. It’s to clarify what is and isn’t being held and taught by the different positions. This isn’t a matter of orthodoxy and heresy, but a matter of confessional commitment. Incidentally, my own position lands somewhere in the middle. I’m neither a full abrogationist nor a complete continuationist. At the same time, I have sympathies with both perspectives. I fully embrace the function of the Decalogue as a Sündenspiegel and Sündenriegel. However, I also think the Ten Commandments can (and probably ought) to have an important pedagogical function as a Lebensregel for children being raised in the covenant community of the church and for new believers finding their footing in the Christian life. However, with Paul I also acknowledge that regenerate believers walking in the Spirit who manifest the fruit of the Spirit and fulfill the spirit of the Law have no need to constantly consult the Decalogue as a rule of life. Beyond this, I also believe the Ten Commandments serve an important function as a means by which God holds back wickedness in the church, which is necessarily, though not ideally, a mixed community of regenerate and unregenerate people. The Ten Commandments can also have a similar function in societies in which the church has exerted some influence on the morality and ethics of the culture.