Theology Central

In the most recent Nick of Time essay, Kevin Bauder introduced the subject of race relations based upon a recent conversation he had with his African-American friend, Simon. Kevin ended his article by posing two questions: 1) What should we do with the perceptions that Black Americans have? and 2) What does the Lord expect from White Americans in the church in light of these perceptions?

I have asked African-American pastor Emmanuel Malone, one of our board members and an adjunct professor at Central Seminary, to join me for a dialogue about these and other questions related to this significant issue. Our format is somewhat limited, and we regret that we will not be able to spend as much time discussing each point in greater detail.

Before jumping into the pool, some introductions are needed. Emmanuel began his professional career as an electrical engineer with General Electric. After receiving his MBA, he was hired by Control Data Corporation as plant manager in Minneapolis. Later he was rehired as an executive manager in GE’s Space Systems Division. He appeared to be at the pinnacle of his engineering career when the Lord called him to pastoral ministry. He left GE, earned an MDiv degree at Calvary Baptist Seminary, and proceeded to start a church in Philadelphia where he served for seven years. Following this pastorate, he moved to the Chicago area where he planted Antioch Baptist which later merged with Calvary Baptist Church, Tinley Park, IL, and then pastored Maranatha Baptist Church for seven years. Finally, he came to the Twin Cities and pastored All Nations Baptist Church until his retirement in 2016.

I serve as the Academic Dean and Professor of NT at Central Seminary. Emmanuel and I have had several private discussions about race through the years, and in light of recent events in our city, we are bringing these out into the open in the Nick of Time. We plan to take the next few weeks for this dialogue, beginning with a Question & Answer layout. Then in the remaining weeks we will discuss several questions related to race relations, offering our unique perspectives. We know that neither of us is a perfect spokesman for White and Black Americans as a whole, but we do agree that the gospel and the Bible’s worldview hold the key to both a proper understanding of race relations as well as a correct solution to what is sometimes misguided in regard to these relationships in the church.

I have four questions for Emmanuel. Here’s his answer to the first, and we will see his responses to three others in next week’s issue.

Q: When a situation like the George Floyd killing arises, what are some ways White Christians intentionally or unintentionally minimize the pain and frustration that the African-American community is feeling?

A: This question does not have a simple “this is what you do” answer. First, they need some appreciation for what it is like to be a minority in America, especially where color is the distinguishing factor.

Perhaps a good beginning is for White Christians to understand some of the perceptions people of color have. When events occur like the George Floyd killing by a Minneapolis police officer, it reinforces the belief that there is no “justice for all” and the injustice is against people of African descent. Also saying you are color blind is perceived to be just as bad, for it denies the reality of the person and it is a false perception that color does not truly play a part in everyday life. Just as the Jews had a perception of what it meant to be Gentile or Samaritan and they treated the Gentiles and Samaritans according to that view (cf. John 4:9; Eph 2:1–2, 11–12), there is a perception of what it means to be a person of color.

Therefore, White Christians must realize that people of color are very conscious of color in life settings among Whites. In fact people of color are four times more conscious of race or color on a daily basis than Whites. The issue is a question of acceptance: Will I be accepted in this group? Will I be treated fairly in this transaction? When Whites say things like, “all lives matter” in response to “black lives matter” signs/slogans, they minimize the very point that people of color are consciously aware that their lives can be easily and unjustly snuffed out. Now there is point of hypocrisy to the slogan. If Black lives do matter, then should it not apply to Black on Black crime? I believe it should, but there is no national advocacy or little protest here.

Another failure in perception occurs when people say, “Why can’t you just get over it?” Besides being extremely callous and un-Christian, this statement fails to understand Black oral tradition: slavery and segregation. Framed within the two are brutality, lynching, and second-class citizenry. While today’s rhetoric continually reminds us of the 400 years in bondage and disenfranchisement, it is in fact part of Black history. History must not be denied. What would be helpful is promoting a better history—one that remembers, but one that does not define life today. That redefining for Black America once took hold in the 60’s and 70’s. There were slogans like “I’m Black and I’m proud” and “I don’t want nobody to give me nothing, just open up the door, I’ll get it myself.” Yet the period was marred with violence in the Civil Rights Movement. Then came the public welfare system and political liberalism destroyed those notions and made people of color dependent on government, giving them a sense of entitlement. The senseless police shootings and the way that the media amplifies those events confirm in the minds of the people of color that they are an opposed and entitled people.

Second, White Christians minimize identification with Black America’s problem by giving responses of self-justification. For example, they might say, “My forefathers came here from Sweden and they never owned slaves.” Or they might say, “I am not a racist and I’ve never said any racial slurs or treated a Black person differently from a White person.” These types of responses are not helpful. The community of color doesn’t necessarily look at life at the individual level. The view is corporate identity, and every White person is part of that corporation. There is no justification in saying what one’s family did not do. The better claim is an expression of regret for what your race of people did to my race of people. Just as the people of color are ashamed when a Black person does something publicly wrong or are elated when a person of color does something great, either way there is association.

I believe White Christians should do the same. Don’t try to escape the bad. If there are any words of comfort, they should be words of regret for what has happened and, given the place or opportunity within one’s respective sphere of influence today, you will not tolerate or support any avenue of racial discrimination or degradation of any image-bearer of God. Solomon observed oppression (Ecclesiastes 4:1-3), and he noticed that the oppressed lacked advocacy. There can be no greater action than prayer. Pray for opportunity to connect with a person of color and that a good relationship can be formed. Use that time to listen and understand, then speak the truth into the lives of the people He allows you to influence. Philip helped the Ethiopian eunuch to understand hard questions of a spiritual nature. Philip spent time with the man. He willingly went out of his own way, but in the final analysis the gospel was given and the Ethiopian was saved (cf. Acts 8:26–8). Ultimately, the problem of race is a spiritual one.

This essay is by Jon Pratt, Vice President of Academics and Professor of New Testament at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

When Forth From Egypt’s Trembling Strand (Psalm 114)

George Burgess (1809–1866)

When forth from Egypt’s trembling strand
The tribes of Israel sped,
And Jacob in the stranger’s land
Departing banners spread;

The One, amid their thick array
His kingly dwelling made,
And all along the desert way
Their guiding sceptre sway’d.

The sea beheld, and struck with dread,
Roll’d all its billows back;
And Jordan, through his deepest bed,
Reveal’d their destined track.

What ail’d thee, O thou mighty sea?
Why roll’d thy waves in dread?
What bade thy tide, O Jordan, flee
And bare its deepest bed?

O earth, before the Lord, the God
Of Jacob, tremble still:
Who makes the waste a water’d sod,
The flint a gushing rill.

After two days of the rioting in Minneapolis, I had occasion to visit with a friend—I’ll call him Simon. Simon is nearly my age and has recently retired from two simultaneous careers: as a police detective and as a platoon sergeant in the National Guard, with whom he served multiple deployments in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Guantanamo. Simon is also African-American. While I did not transcribe our conversation word for word, I believe that I can give you a summary of it. You may find it interesting. Simon explained the riot as follows:

“There are basically three groups involved. The first is the protestors. They are concerned primarily about justice. But about 8:00 in the evening the flavor of the protest changes when the radicals move in. They include vandals, troublemakers, anarchists, and white supremacists. You can feel the atmosphere change. This is the group that riots. Then you have another group who are just opportunists. They wait until the police are overwhelmed by the rioters in one place, then they’ll bust up the stores for free stuff in other places.”

What Simon said next surprised me.

“I don’t agree with the violence, but I can understand the anger that’s directed at the police. Minneapolis does have a problem with racism in the police force. That’s one reason that I left the Minneapolis PD for another department. But to some extent that’s true of policing in general, and even of our society as a whole. Right now there is terrible frustration if you are a person of color.”

I asked where that frustration comes from.

“Well, I grew up as a poor kid in the inner city, reared by my grandmother. I was sent to Catholic schools. I can remember as a teenager hiding in the back seat of the car while my white friend would go to the door to pick up my white date for me. Not a day went by when I didn’t get racial slurs, and often worse.

“When I became a cop I would be sent to help victims who wouldn’t believe I was a police officer. I was in a marked patrol car, wearing a uniform, and I had victims call the police department to report a Black man impersonating a police officer. A Black man has to be constantly aware of how he’s being perceived. There’s a stereotype that Black males are lazy, stupid, angry, and criminal. A Black man has to make sure that he doesn’t do something that will play into that stereotype, because most people are ready to apply it. The only time I didn’t have to worry about it was when I was in Iraq and Afghanistan. It just wasn’t an issue there.

“I’ve talked to my sons about this. One son came to me the other day and complained that his employer thinks he’s always angry. But that’s how people perceive African-American men. They’ll hold Blacks accountable for behavior that they’d overlook in a White man.”

I commented that I had only ever felt that kind of pressure a very few times when I was in a neighborhood of color and could tell by the stares and expressions that what people expected from me did not fit who I am.

Simon replied, “But you see, I live my whole life among people who are not my color. What you felt for a little while, I feel almost every day. Listen, I’m a Black man and a cop. I’ve walked both sides of the street. I understand what a cop puts up with and what decisions a cop has to make. But I can take off the uniform and I’m not a cop any more. I can’t take off being a Black man. I’m always Black.”

I asked about the violence, and Simon surprised me again.

“Of course I don’t agree with the violence. But there’s a strong feeling—and I do understand it—that nothing will ever change without violence. The Revolutionary War. The Civil War. Think of the really big, major changes. Almost all of them involved violence.”

Simon certainly has not been part of the violent crowd (though it would not surprise me to learn that he had been a protestor). In his everyday relationships he is about as peaceable an individual as you could ever meet. I did not understand him to be advocating violence. Instead, it seemed that he was resigned to watching it happen and hoped for something good to come of it.

Simon and I have known each other for more than twenty years. He was one of the first people outside the Central Seminary orbit who befriended me when I moved to Minnesota. We are unlike in many ways. We have different politics, different religions, and different tastes. In spite of those differences, I’ve always thought that Simon had my six. Furthermore, he’s been willing to share some of the hard issues in his life. Whatever a true friend is supposed to be, that’s what he has been with me. I have also tried to be that kind of friend to him.

Consequently, I don’t believe that Simon was trying to propagandize me. He has never, ever tried to fake it with me or to give me a sales pitch. Instead, I think that he needed to be able to say these things to somebody. He wanted somebody to understand what he felt. I have no question at all that he was telling the exact truth as he believed it to be from his perspective.

Granted, Simon’s perspectives might be skewed and some of his conclusions might be mistaken. I don’t think that I’m obligated to agree with his every word simply because he is my friend. Yet I’ve seen some right-wing pundits try to dismiss the recent civil unrest as nothing more than radicalism and reverse racism. I have no doubt that anarchism, socialism, and critical theory are behind a good bit of it. But I can’t dismiss Simon so easily. He is not a radical, an anarchist, or a socialist. He is not anti-America. He is a genuine patriot. I have to take what he says seriously because I take him seriously and because his beliefs are genuine.

So what should we—and by we I mean we conservative Christians (of whatever ethnicity)—do with Simon’s perceptions? We should certainly not ignore them, and we (or at least I) cannot dismiss them. Over the next few weeks, two professors from Central Baptist Theological Seminary are going to be discussing this question: what should we do with these perceptions? What does the Lord expect from us now?

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Lord, If Thou Thy Grace Impart
Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

Lord, if Thou Thy grace impart,
Poor in spirit, meek in heart,
I shall as my Master be,
Clothéd with humility;
Simple, teachable, and mild,
Changed into a little child,
Pleased with all the Lord provides,
Weaned from all the world besides.
Father, fix my soul on Thee;
Every evil let me flee,
Nothing want beneath, above,
Happy in Thy precious love.
O that all may seek and find
Every good in Christ combined!
Him let Israel still adore,
Trust Him, praise Him evermore.

Robert G. Delnay arrived at Denver Baptist Theological Seminary when I was beginning my Middler year during the late summer of 1980. He came to the school both as dean and as a professor. In the latter capacity he taught Greek, homiletics, and church history. The Greek class met at 7:00 AM on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. After about two class sessions he told us, “During the years that I was a missionary in Haiti I never saw a zombie—but we need to do something to wake you men up.” For the rest of the semester he furnished coffee and hot chocolate for the entire class. Only later did I learn that he paid for it out of his own pocket.

That course dealt with the Greek text of Philippians. Delnay thought that we needed to be challenged with harder Greek, so he spent the first several class sessions having us translate the relevant portions of Acts. This was my first immersion in the thought and language of Luke. I loved it. Delnay’s mastery of the Greek was flawless, and he had a gift for bringing the text to life. More than that, he taught us to love the Savior who is revealed in the text. He may have imbibed this devotional focus during the time he attended A. W. Tozer’s church in Chicago—Tozer’s attitudes certainly permeated his teaching.

His history classes were equally rigorous and equally fascinating. Delnay did not lecture about history. Instead, he told the story, and he told it in a way that made the characters come to life. If you were an attentive student, you began appreciating the complications and perplexities that led up to historical turning points. Besides knowing what happened, you understood why it happened.

Delnay was unusually generous with his time. His office door stood open and he always welcomed a conversation with a student. Years passed before I understood how hard he must have worked to make himself so accessible to us. Some of his best teaching occurred during those times. For example, it was during those sessions that he first introduced me to conservative authors like Richard Weaver and Russell Kirk.

As an educator, Delnay once summarized his philosophy as, “Feed a man when he’s hungry.” If a student wanted to pursue a specialized area of study, Delnay was always ready to offer him an independent study course. He guided me through the translation and exegesis of the Greek text of 2 Corinthians (that was his idea) and Hebrews (that was mine). He also guided me through independent courses in philosophy of history, Patristic church history, Medieval church history, Reformation church history, and Regular Baptist history. In these courses his assignment was usually the same: “Bring me a syllabus and outline that you would use to teach this course.” I had no idea then how valuable those outlines would someday prove to be.

Robert Delnay received his spiritual upbringing at the old Wealthy Street Baptist Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan. His pastors were Oliver W. Van Osdel and then David Otis Fuller. Wealthy Street also featured the preaching of female evangelist Amy Lee Stockton, and Delnay once remarked, “She had a voice like a gravel crusher.” He received a liberal education (in the best sense of that term) at Michigan State University. He attended seminary at Northern Baptist Seminary in Chicago, where he studied Greek with Julius R. Mantey, preaching with Charles W. Koller, and history with Peder Stiansen. He later secured his Th.M. from Grace Theological Seminary and his Th.D. from Dallas Theological Seminary, where he wrote his dissertation for George Dollar.

Besides serving as a missionary in Haiti, Delnay pastored at least three churches, one of which he planted. His greatest contributions, however, were in education. He taught at Columbia Bible College (now Columbia International University) in South Carolina, Central Baptist Theological Seminary of Minneapolis, Denver Baptist Bible College and Seminary (twice), Piedmont Bible College (twice, also serving as academic vice-president), Baptist Bible Seminary of Pennsylvania, Faith Baptist Bible College and Seminary (twice; he was the founding dean of the seminary), and Clearwater Christian College. He taught into his 80s, after which he retired to Maranatha Village in Sebring, Florida.

Throughout his ministry he was accompanied by his wife, June, to whom he was deeply devoted. She was more than a wife to him: they were really partners in ministry. Among her other activities, she served as librarian and taught English in some of the institutions where he worked. Together the two of them modeled a life of faithful commitment to the Lord and to each other, becoming an object lesson in delightful fidelity to their students.

In the classroom Delnay was noted for his frequent quips, often delivered with a measure of irony that bordered on sarcasm. In context these one-liners served as powerful teaching tools, but he never liked to hear them repeated outside the classroom. He seemed to fear that the lack of context could twist their significance.

His publications included a history of the Baptist Bible Union that remains the standard work after fifty years. He authored a book on preaching (Fire In Your Pulpit) and a volume on teaching methods (Teach As He Taught). Delnay also published One In Hope and Doctrine, a history of Baptist fundamentalism from its beginnings through 1950. Besides these books, he wrote dozens—perhaps hundreds—of pamphlets, papers, and articles.

If Robert Delnay was pronounced in his opinions, it was because he held high ideals on which he rarely compromised. He had a keen sense of how people should be treated, and he showed little patience for those who took advantage of the powerless. He had no use for theater, particularly religious theater. If you were his friend, he was fiercely loyal—willing to forbear your faults and forgive your sins and unwilling to let evil be spoken against you. He earnestly expected the Rapture at any moment, and he hoped and prayed that he and June might be taken together. This was not God’s will, however, and Delnay was summoned into glory last Sunday evening.

His was a strong personality that rubbed some people the wrong way. For my part, I loved him. I never stopped looking up to him. I could see that he was trying to imitate Christ, and I wanted to learn that from him. I rejoice that he is now with the Savior whom he loved. Of course, I miss him, too—fiercely. Above all, I salute him for a life well spent. He finished well.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

For All the Saints
William Walsham How (1823–1897)

For all the saints who from their labors rest,
who thee by faith before the world confessed,
thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might;
thou, Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight;
thou, in the darkness drear, their one true light.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,
fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
and win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

O blest communion, fellowship divine,
we feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

And when the fight is fierce, the warfare long,
steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

The golden evening brightens in the west;
soon, soon to faithful warrior cometh rest;
sweet is the calm of paradise the blest.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
the saints triumphant rise in bright array;
the King of glory passes on his way.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,
through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Alleluia! Alleluia!

Whether American churches are really facing a new Dark Age is debatable. What cannot be doubted is that ministry has become more complicated. We live in an increasingly secular culture that confronts Christians with new challenges. Christianity will not be conserved in its integrity without pastors to provide conservative leadership. Consequently, schools that prepare pastors need to think hard about the kind of leaders that the churches will need. Of course, the colleges and seminaries will not be able to provide everything: personal and ministry skills will have to be fostered within the local church. The schools, however, will need to assist the churches in the intellectual and academic preparation of pastors.

At base, the preservation of Christianity in its integrity requires commitment to full-bodied literacy and the life of the mind. This commitment is necessary for two reasons. The first is that Christianity is a religion of text. Given the centrality of the written Word, Christianity can be understood and conserved only by literate people, i.e., people who are skilled in digesting texts. Second, the present challenges to Christianity stem primarily from anti-Christian intellectual systems. It is up to Christian leaders to overthrow these false systems of thought and to bring them captive for obedience to Christ (2 Cor 10:3-6). Consequently, Christianity in general and fundamentalism in particular will need a generation of pastors who are both literate and thoughtful.

A literate pastor is one who can read difficult materials, understand them, digest them, and respond to their ideas. If he is living the life of the mind, then his response will reflect both his knowledge of Scripture and his grasp of the intellectual and social influences that have produced the ideas. We need pastors who are thinkers as well as doers, sharp-witted shepherds who are prepared to guard Christ’s sheep and who can spot the dens in which the wolves are hiding. To get pastors of this sort, we need schools to provide full education for the next generation of ministry.

At the baccalaureate level, pastoral education must lay a foundation in the liberal arts. Too often the graduates of fundamentalist (and other!) colleges and universities cannot write a coherent subject-verb-object sentence, follow a simple argument, interpret a difficult text, or guide a listener or reader through a persuasive presentation of their ideas. At minimum, by the time a future pastor reaches seminary he ought to have mastered grammar, rhetoric, and logic.

Specifically, pastors must be able to handle the Scriptures ably and confidently. The foundation of that confidence is mastery of the biblical languages. To that mastery they must add expertise in interpreting texts, especially the text of Scripture. After all, the authority of their ministries is grounded in God’s Word.

Besides being able to exegete Scripture, future pastors must also possess advanced knowledge of biblical and systematic theology. It is not enough for them simply to repeat the correct answers to theological questions. They have to think theologically, which means that they perceive the system of faith as an integrated whole. They understand how their conclusions in one area will affect their conclusions throughout the system and, indeed, throughout their lives and the lives of those to whom they minister.

Furthermore, these future pastors must have a competent grasp of Christian history. History is identity. No one really understands the importance of his beliefs until he understands the conflicts and perplexities to which those beliefs are the responses. Knowing history tells you not only who you are, but why you are who you are.

Pastors of the future must also have a firm grasp of the distinctive teachings of the traditions within which they minister. For example, fundamentalist pastors should grasp the dynamics of Christian fellowship and its correlative: separation. These are not incidental matters. They are related to the gospel, and they entail a complete ecclesiology.

Other traditions are also important. Baptist pastors must grasp the importance of Baptist distinctives. Dispensationalist pastors must be able to think well about their dispensationalism. Cessationism and creationism will be no less important for the next generation than they are now; pastors should be able to articulate and defend these positions.

We have lived through decades when rigorous academic discipline was not considered essential for pastors—and in some senses, it was not. During the first two-thirds of the Twentieth Century a pastor with limited learning could draw upon a kind of stored reserve of understanding that was widely shared among Christians. By making withdrawals from that deposit, he could lead effectively even when he received inferior preparation. Indeed, during the years that fundamentalists were rebuilding their educational institutions, most pastors had to get by with minimal education. That many of these men succeeded is testimony to their devotion and even heroism. They are to be honored.

Others, however, inflicted much damage in their ignorance. Among other things, they squandered the Christian heritage upon which they drew. The result is that most of that heritage has now been spent, even within fundamentalism, and it has virtually vanished from many corners of the evangelical world. Thus, pastors of the future will operate at a disadvantage, for they will have little patrimony upon which to draw. Another generation of unskilled and unlearned pastors will be the death of our churches, many of which are dying as it is.

Nothing that I have suggested so far is a new departure in fundamentalist education. For more than half a century the better sort of fundamentalist seminaries have actually been providing it. In the future, however, they must add one other element: preparation related to the context in which their graduates will minister. Future pastors will have to understand secularism, not to rail against it, but to challenge the secular mind. They will have to understand critical theory, for no present-day trend has a more pernicious influence upon the churches. They will have to be able to bring genuinely Christian principles to bear upon economics, creation care, and technology. These issues are only the least part of what the next generation of pastors will face. They will be asked to guide God’s people through issues that simply were not discussed a generation ago.

Seminaries around the country are lowering their academic standards. If fundamentalists are serious about preparing effective pastors for the future, then they will maintain and even strengthen theirs. The churches should demand that their pastors be fully equipped. We will need pastors like that in the near future. The next few years may give us our final opportunity to prepare them for the Dark Age.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses..

Psalm 1

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

That one is ever blest
who shuns the sinners’ ways,
among their councils never stands,
nor takes a scorner’s place:

but makes the law of God
a study and delight
amid the labors of the day
and watches of the night;

who, like a tree, shall thrive,
with waters near its root.
Fresh as new leaves, that name shall live
in works of heavenly fruit.

Anybody who gets into the business of predicting the future is on hazardous ground. None of us can see even one second into our future. Only God can, and where He does not reveal it to us, we had better admit ignorance. What we can do, however, is to project trends and to hypothesize about what the future will probably look like if those trends continue. We can guess at a possible future, even if we do not know the actual one.

The present trends indicate that living out a thoroughly Christian testimony and operating as fully ordered New Testament churches may well be growing more difficult. A growing number of those who manipulate the levers of political and cultural power seem to be operating under the influence of a radical secularism. Through the increasing cultural weight of critical theory, a very hostile Marxism has crept in the back door. Civility and genuine tolerance are evaporating as shrill voices inspire Twitter mobs into unprecedented brutality. In short, we seem to be on the cusp of a Dark Age, not only for Christians, but for whatever is truly humane.

Such a future places special burdens upon the churches and their leaders. Of course, the first burden is mere survival, and we experience a powerful temptation to sacrifice other ends to this one. We think that we shall have succeeded if our grandchildren, or their grandchildren, or theirs, eventually emerge from the Dark Age with a basic Christian faith intact. Some of us may hope for a shorter period of decay, punctuated by the Rapture and interrupted by the Second Coming. In either case, the temptation is to focus on the bare minimum that we must preserve, jettisoning whatever is not absolutely essential to the being of our churches. This minimalist approach, however, would be unfortunate and even disobedient.

We are responsible, not only for the bare essentials of Christianity, but also for all the counsel of God. We must attend, not merely to the being of our churches, but also to their wellbeing. Our job is to transmit the entire system of faith and obedience in its integrity. Believers and churches must emerge from the Dark Age (or reach the Rapture) with a full embrace of all that God wishes us to know and do. We must arrive full of faith, holding firm to our hope, and loving both God and neighbor. Our churches will require leaders who can both call them and lead them into this vision.

Of course our obligation does include the essentials or fundamentals of Christianity. We must pay particular attention to the gospel, understanding its purpose, nature, content, and parameters. We must grasp the way in which the gospel establishes the boundary of the Christian faith. We must understand how gospel deniers are outside that boundary, even when they name the name of Christ. We must refuse to pretend that we can enjoy Christian fellowship with these gospel deniers, because we genuinely have no fellowship with them. Clarity on these points will be critical, for as we are persecuted for the sake of Christ, we will naturally wish to gravitate toward other people who are also being persecuted for what they think is Christianity. Sometimes, however, the “Christianity” for which they are being persecuted will not be a genuine Christianity at all, but an actual denial of the gospel.

We must recognize that full fellowship is not possible even with all who do affirm the gospel. To be sure, some level of real fellowship exists among all true Christians, and Christian is the proper label for those who affirm the genuine gospel. To enjoy some level of fellowship, however, is not necessarily to enjoy every level of fellowship. In the face of opposition and even persecution, pressures may mount to ignore real differences and to suppress controverted points of the system of faith. Instead, we must cling tightly to the whole system, each of us as she or he understands it before God. Differences over the system of faith will to some degree result in separate organization, but (as the Princetonians argued more than a century ago) separate organization is not necessarily schism.

Even under persecution it is not sin—indeed, it is a virtue—for a Baptist to maintain charitably the importance of Baptist distinctives. This is exactly what the first generations of Baptists did as they emerged from the English Reformation. They recognized their commonalities with the Puritans and the Separatist Congregationalists, and they affirmed fellowship at those points. Nevertheless, they rejected full fellowship with these groups in favor of church order that approximated (as they saw it) more closely that of the New Testament. All of these groups stood against the persecution of the established order, but they all organized churches according to their understanding of the biblical pattern.

Under persecution the differences between Christians over eschatology may become even more pointed than they are in times of peace. We might ask whether believers who are suffering deprivation and imprisonment reasonably expect that they might be delivered by the Rapture at any moment. Or must they resign themselves to a hope in the distant future? Should those who experience opposition and oppression expect the gradual transformation of the earthly order by and into the millennium, a process that may require centuries? Or should they expect the complete and sudden replacement of the present order by the kingdom of Christ? To people in a jail cell these differences could hardly seem merely academic.

When Bibles are being confiscated and burned, will churches receive some additional prophecies to speak directly to them under their present circumstances? Will they be able to exercise Kingdom Authority over disease, demons, and possibly even death? Or should supposed prophecies and exorcisms be seen as counterfeits and distractions from the main business of understanding the Scriptures and transmitting the system of faith? The differences between Cessationism and Charismaticism will become more, and not less, important as conditions worsen.

Pastors of the future must be prepared to guide their churches through all of these mine fields. They must also be prepared to galvanize their congregations against the corrosions that seep in from the secular culture. Already some professing evangelicals are attempting to defend same-sex unions and gender transitions. Evangelicals are playing with Marxian-based critical theory. Such people offer sophisticated arguments in favor of these deeply anti-Christian trends. Future pastors must understand the influences, grasp the arguments, and steer their churches through the new obstacle courses with which they are confronted.

Knowing what we may soon face should shape our vision of fundamentalist education, and particularly our vision of pastoral preparation. While we might wish that we were preparing men to lead great revivals, we are most likely preparing them to lead the churches through the new Dark Age. We need to rethink the content of our pastoral preparation with that Dark Age in view.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

From Pole to Pole Let Others Roam

John Newton (1725–1807)

From pole to pole let others roam,
And search in vain for bliss;
My soul is satisfied at home;
The Lord my portion is.

Jesus, who on his glorious throne
Rules heaven and earth and sea,
Is pleased to claim me for his own,
And gives himself to me.

His person fixes all my love,
His blood removes my fear;
And while he pleads for me above,
His arm preserves me here.

His word of promise is my food,
His spirit is my guide;
Thus daily is my strength renewed,
And all my wants supplied.

For him I count as gain each loss,
Disgrace for him renown;
Well may I glory in my cross,
While he prepared my crown.

Twenty years ago almost no reputable college, university, or seminary offered distance education. In fact, “distance ed” was one of the marks of a diploma mill. Nevertheless, the new computer technologies, and especially the internet, were about to provide platforms that could be used for widespread experimentation in distance education.

An early adopter was Northland International University, which was reputed to have spent seven figures setting up a distance ed platform. Their technology relied heavily on pre-recorded presentations and threaded Internet discussion groups—an approach typically known as asynchronous distance education. I taught one course for Northland using those tools, and I hated it. I thought that it depersonalized the educational process, so much so that I could not understand how it fit with Northland’s mission of “life touching life.” I was convinced that students who took the course in this format received a worse education than those who took it live.

Another early adopter was Maranatha Baptist University. Unlike Northland, however, Maranatha adopted synchronous distance education, using an early version of Zoom technology to combine local and distance students in the same learning experience. I also taught a course for Maranatha in those days, and I found very little difference between interacting with local students who were physically present and interacting with distance students who were virtually present. This was my first positive experience with distance ed; for the first time I could see how distance ed might be done effectively.

Several years ago Central Seminary began using the Zoom platform to incorporate synchronous distance education into our curriculum. At the master’s level, every class has included some combination of distance students and local on-campus students. The technology has enabled us to reach students not only throughout the United States and Canada but in multiple countries in Africa, South America, and Asia.

Any remaining hesitation we might have harbored about distance education was swept away by the COVID pandemic. Every institution and every accreditor has recognized that some form of distance education is essential under the present circumstances. For Central Seminary the move to all-Zoom courses has been seamless at the master’s level. In about a month we will be offering our first all-distance D.Min. course. I don’t know of an institution of higher learning that is not making the same adjustments. To paraphrase Nixon, “We’re all distance ed now.”

My guess is that COVID-19 loosed the genie from the bottle. I doubt that any of us will ever go back to education as it used to be. What we need to do now is to take stock of the situation and to decide how to make the most of—OK, this is an expression I thoroughly despise, but it applies here—of the “new normal.” In this vein I offer the following four observations.

First, distance education brings some definite positives. One is that we can reach students anywhere in the world, as long as they can get a decent Internet connection. Another is that we can offer education to students in their home churches. They do not have to move to Minneapolis to go to seminary.

Second, from a strictly academic point of view, we lose very little when we use synchronous technology. The virtual classroom really is still a classroom; professor and students can still interact as a fellowship of learning. The verbal exchange is slowed only slightly, and some group activities (such as singing together) are impaired, but students can still learn languages, hermeneutics, exegesis, and theology.

Third, what we actually do lose is all of the stuff that usually happens outside the classroom. Traditional chapels become impossible. Lunchroom conversations do not happen. Mentoring takes on an impersonal tinge. We can still grade assignments, but we get little opportunity to evaluate our students’ spiritual discipline, their work ethic, their personal skills, or their devotion. Even when we do get some impression of these things, we aren’t able to do much to help them. This deficiency is important, because these areas are exactly what has distinguished seminary and even Bible college education in the past. If these areas are left unaddressed, then the next generation of pastors and missionaries could be disastrous for the churches.

Fourth, something has to be done to address the non-academic side of ministerial preparation. The good news is that the Lord Jesus Christ has already created an institution and ordained it to accomplish that task. His institution to make disciples and to prepare Christian leaders is the local church. It is time for the churches to reclaim ownership of ministerial instruction.

As a Baptist, I see this situation as overwhelmingly positive. In the New Testament, the churches equipped and trained their pastors. Part of my goal since coming to Central Seminary has been to move the responsibility for training pastors and missionaries back toward the local church. Seminaries can provide the academic side, and that is a good thing, because most churches will never be able to. The process of discipling a future leader into Christian ministry, however, is always done better by the local church. Seminaries need churches even more than churches need seminaries.

For decades Central Seminary has operated in close partnership with local churches. Indeed, our mission statement begins with the words, “to assist New Testament churches.” The present situation simply underlines the importance of church partnerships. Future pastors need to be trained by present pastors under the discipline of effective New Testament churches. Colleges, universities, and seminaries are service organizations whose mission is simply to help local churches. It is time for our institutions to celebrate their rightful place as junior partners in the process. It is also time for local congregations to take seriously their own responsibility in equipping future generations of leaders.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Father of Mercies, Bow Thine Ear

Benjamin Beddome (1717–1795)

Father of mercies, bow Thine ear,
Attentive to our earnest prayer:
We plead for those who plead for Thee;
Successful pleaders may they be!

How great their work, how vast their charge!
Do Thou their anxious souls enlarge:
Their best acquirements are our gain;
We share the blessings they obtain.

Clothe, then with energy divine
Their words, and let their words be Thine;
To them Thy sacred truth reveal,
Suppress their fear, inflame their zeal.

Teach them to sow the precious seed;
Teach them Thy chosen flock to feed;
Teach them immortal souls to gain,
Souls that will well reward their pain.

Let thronging multitudes around
Hear from their lips the joyful sound;
In humble strains Thy grace implore,
And feel Thy new-creating power.

Let sinners break their massy chains,
Distressèd souls forget their pains;
Let light through distant realms be spread,
And Sion rear her drooping head.

By every indicator, historic, mainstream fundamentalism is a shrinking movement. Churches are shrinking. Fellowships are shrinking. Mission agencies are shrinking. Schools have closed and those that remain are scrambling for students.

Furthermore, the churches are producing fewer young people who feel any sense of calling toward vocational ministry. From an educational perspective, not only is the pond shrinking but the number of fish in the pond is declining. This situation confronts Bible colleges and seminaries with a difficult question: how can they continue to train students for ministry in mainstream fundamentalist churches and mission fields? Various institutions have adopted different strategies.

First, some schools aim to attract new students by broadening their offerings. Institutions that used to identify themselves as Bible colleges have transitioned into liberal arts colleges and even universities. Among those that remain Bible colleges (which means that they require all students to major in Bible), the curriculum has been expanded to include supplementary majors in education, counseling, nursing, history, business, humanities, and other disciplines. Seminaries, too, have diversified their offerings, hoping to attract students who wish to become more effective in their Christian service as ordinary church members—but not as vocational ministers. Many schools have launched into higher levels of education, with colleges starting graduate schools and seminaries, and seminaries offering post-graduate programs. These changes are so common that finding an institution that has not implemented at least some of them is nearly impossible.

This approach does succeed in attracting more students than would otherwise attend the school. For some, it provides an alternative to secular colleges and universities. Nevertheless, because it draws students to non-ministry emphases, it accomplishes little by way of producing the next generation of pastors and missionaries. For those who wish to equip Christian leaders, this strategy must be judged a failure.

A second strategy that some schools have tried is to broaden their constituencies by seeking acceptance from the more conservative wing of mainline evangelicalism. These schools have begun forging ties to groups like the Southern Baptist Convention or the Presbyterian Church of America. To expand their circle of fellowship, however, they have sometimes abandoned distinctives that they have held for generations. They feature speakers who have not previously been allowed on their platforms. They soften their dress codes and their codes of conduct. These changes are not made so much in the effort to be more biblical as in the effort to appeal to a different kind of student. They are pragmatic changes rather than principled changes.

What occasionally happens is a sort of slingshot effect. Sometimes the velocity of change has been so rapid that the institution overshoots any target that might be taken as biblical or even reasonable. In rejecting dated or unsupportable aspects of their ethos, these schools may begin to reject whatever appears to be simply inconvenient. They lose old identity but have not built up a new one. They alienate their older constituents as they stake their future on the support of the new constituents they are courting, but who are reluctant to support them because of past hostilities. This strategy is a gamble that has already closed more than one college and seminary. It alienates the older constituents, who direct their support to other institutions that still uphold the old ethos.

That phenomenon has contributed to a third strategy. Some schools attempt to capitalize on the exodus of supporters from these broadening institutions. By emphasizing their older standards of fellowship and conduct, they try to portray themselves as trustworthy in a “last man standing” sort of way. Furthermore, just as a broadening institution usually seeks support from its Left, these reactionary institutions often appeal for support to their Right.

This strategy is the mirror image of the last, and it turns out to be just as pragmatic in its approach. It upholds older standards, but often not for principled and biblical reasons. For example, one school—which insists that it is not King James Only—requires its students to use the King James Bible in their churches, even if their churches (including their home churches) use something else. Given a choice between deferring to the King James Only crowd and deferring to its students’ home churches, this institution made the pragmatic choice.

These pragmatic strategies (both to the Left and to the Right) may actually succeed in attracting ministerial students who would not otherwise have come. This kind of pragmatism, however, risks producing graduates who will subvert the churches in which they minister. Depending upon the direction in which the school faces, it will attract students from one side or the other of mainstream fundamentalism. Because it has had to compromise in order to gain those students, it will lack the ability to steer them toward a completely biblical system of faith and practice.

The fourth strategy also involves openness to ministerial students from outside mainstream fundamentalism—whether from the Left or the Right. The difference is that an institution that adopts this strategy is not willing to alter its own ethos to appeal to those students. If it is a separatist school, it teaches robust separatism winsomely and persuasively. If it is a Baptist school, it teaches Baptist distinctives without blushing. If it is a dispensational school, it teaches dispensationalism with clarity and force. It allows other students into the institution, but it aims to transform them. It does not modify its principled commitments to appeal to those on either side.

What would attract outside students to such an institution? That question has many answers. Smaller classes. Personal attention and care. Professors who combine pastoral experience with rigorous academics. Course structures that are designed for the convenience of students and not administrators. Genuine devotion to God. Commitment to Scripture. Theological sobriety. Prioritizing the local church and its ministry. In short, excellence.

There are no guarantees for any fundamentalist school. All of them wish to survive—and I personally hope that all of them do. What they must not do, however, is to purchase their survival at the expense of principled and biblical positions. Let them flourish by adopting the strategy of excellence.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Historical and Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Thou Only Sov’reign of My Heart

Anne Steele (1717–1778)

Thou only sov’reign of my heart,
My refuge, my almighty friend,—
And can my soul from thee depart,
On whom alone my hopes depend?

Whither, ah! whither shall I go,
A wretched wand’rer from my Lord?
Can this dark world of sin and woe
One glimpse of happiness afford?

Eternal life thy words impart,
On these my fainting spirit lives;
Here sweeter comforts cheer my heart,
Than all the round of nature gives.

Let earth’s alluring joys combine,
While thou art near, in vain they call;
One smile, one blissful smile of thine,
My dearest Lord, outweighs them all.

Thy name my inmost pow’rs adore,
Thou art my life, my joy, my care:
Depart from thee—’tis death—’tis more,
’Tis endless ruin, deep despair.

Low at thy feet my soul would lie,
Here safety dwells, and peace divine;
Still let me live beneath thine eye,
For life, eternal life is Thine.

To get to work I have to drive south about five miles and then west about four miles. I can take a variety of routes to cover that distance. I can drive south through city traffic on either Douglas or Winnetka Avenues. Alternatively, I can take County Road 100 or US 169, both of which are freeways. If I want to go west first, I can take either 63rd Avenue or Bass Lake Road; these are shorter routes, but they are city streets that have speed limits as low as 30 miles per hour. If I go south first, I can take State Highway 55 West (the Olson Highway), which is longer but has a 55 mile-per-hour speed limit. Or I can drive an additional half-mile south and take Interstate 394 west; this route avoids most stop lights, but it requires a bit of backtracking through a neighborhood. I could also travel west about halfway through my southern trip by taking 42nd Avenue, 36th Avenue, or Medicine Lake Road, though they have slower speed limits combined with multiple stops.

My best chance of avoiding a fatal crash is to take city streets as far as I can. Those routes, however, double my driving time, and they also increase the likelihood of a minor crash. By traveling the limited-access highways I can save time and lower the possibility of a minor crash, while increasing the likelihood of a fatal crash only incrementally.

Every time I drive to work, I must choose a route. In fact, I make this decision nearly every normal day, including Sundays (since my work is located in the building where I go to church). A variety of factors enter into the decision. Safety is one of those. So is time on the road. Other considerations such as road construction, weather, or the daily traffic report may also influence my choice. Under normal circumstances, however, none of these choices is morally wrong. Going to work is a good thing, and having multiple routes is also a good thing. My decision is a prudential decision, a decision between good things. I do not have to decide between a good and an evil.

We often encounter situations in which we must choose between good things. Sometimes we are also confronted with choices between bad things. As long as these bad things are natural evils rather than moral evils, our choice is still a prudential one. Shall I choose to avoid the traffic jam or shall I choose to avoid the road construction? The truth is that I do not have to choose either unless I embrace the good of going to work. I do not choose the (natural) evil for its own sake, but as a subsidiary effect of getting to work. In other words, when I choose to go to work, the delay over traffic or road construction is an unintended consequence.

This discussion is directly applicable to the way that we face an epidemic. To halt the spread of the disease or to “flatten the curve,” some people reasonably wish to invoke quarantine-like measures. It is not unreasonable to limit the size and frequency of gatherings temporarily, to restrict access to public places, and to require prophylactic measures like masks, gloves, and social distancing. Though these choices will probably not keep anybody from catching the disease, they may slow down the rate at which people catch it and thus save some lives by lowering the odds that the hospitals will become overloaded with patients. That is a good thing.

Nevertheless, these restrictions take a toll. For one thing, the forcible deprivation of civil rights is in some ways worse than the physical threat of the disease. For another, businesses have to be shuttered and people put out of work. Those who are not able to earn a livelihood and who have not prepared for hard times may have trouble acquiring the necessities of life. Furthermore, intrusive governmental overreach is difficult to repulse once it has begun (including the overreach involved in mass-distributing fiat money). Avoiding these calamities is also a good thing, and to choose liberty over some level of safety is not unreasonable, either.

How much liberty should people be expected to surrender in the interest of incrementally increasing the probability that a few more individuals will survive the disease? Some have argued in favor of greater restrictions; others are increasingly arguing in favor of greater liberty. My point is not to advocate either direction, though I will add that I am in an “at risk” category, and will probably have a rough time if I catch the disease. My point is that the choice between greater safety and greater liberty is a prudential one.

I am not suggesting that liberties must never yield to concerns over safety, nor do I believe that all intrusions upon liberty are warranted as long as they can be done in the name of safety. At the present time, however, none of the evidence points clearly in one direction or the other. Shutting down businesses and ordering people to stay at home may be doing some good, though nobody can really say how much. On the other hand, the intrusions upon liberty are probably not intractable, though nobody can really be quite sure.

What we can say is that the quarantine-like measures have probably done nearly all of the good that they are going to do. Here in Minnesota we’ve had nearly two months of “flattening the curve.” Just how flat is it supposed to be? Barring a cure or a vaccine, at some point we are going to have to let the disease run its course. Each passing day brings a lower return of safety and places a heavier burden upon liberty. At some point, the responsibility must be shifted onto us who are at risk: if we wish, we can still shut ourselves up and let the rest of the world get on with living.

We take risks every day as part of our ordinary lives. I risk a crash by driving to work. I risk an incrementally greater chance of a fatal crash by driving to work on freeways. These choices are prudential; I have to weigh all considerations and make the choice that seems best under the circumstances. Safety is a concern, but it is only one of many.

The choice about whether to open businesses (and churches) or to shelter at home is also a prudential choice. To this point, state and local governments have been making that choice for all people. We are nearing the point, however, at which people must be permitted to make it for themselves.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Meet and Right It Is to Sing

Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

Meet and right it is to sing,
In every time and place,
Glory to our heavenly King,
The God of truth and grace.
Join we then with sweet accord,
All in one thanksgiving join!
Holy, holy, holy Lord,
Eternal praise be thine!

Thee, the first-born sons of light,
In choral symphonies,
Praise by day, day without night,
And never, never cease;
Angels and archangels, all
Praise the mystic Three in One;
Sing, and stop, and gaze, and fall,
O’erwhelmed before thy throne!

Father, God, thy love we praise,
Which gave thy Son to die;
Jesus, full of truth and grace,
Alike we glorify;
Spirit, Comforter divine.
Praise by all to thee be given,
Till we in full chorus join,
And earth is turned to heaven.

One of the reasons I went to seminary in Colorado was because of the mountains. The Rockies were not my only reason. They weren’t even the most important reason. Some might think that they were a carnal reason, though I disagree. Nevertheless, the natural beauty of those high peaks certainly entered into my choice.

I enjoyed them as thoroughly as I thought I would. I liked camping and hiking behind Rampart Range. During the summers I loved backpacking in the Eagle’s Nest Wilderness. The view east out onto the plains from high on Mount Hermon Road was one of the grandest I’ve ever seen. I particularly relished hunting: every November a classmate and I would pack into the snows of the Flat Tops Wilderness to shoot mule deer and elk. Part of me still wishes that I were in the Mountain West.

The first year I was in Colorado, however, a funny thing happened. I took an assistant pastorate with a pastor who had grown up near Greeley, and he introduced me to the high plains. In time I came to love the plains even more than I loved the mountains (if that’s possible). Something about the combination of buffalo grass, prickly pear, and yucca over unbroken miles was just enchanting. The remoteness of the plains appealed to me, as did their vast openness. I had plenty of company with the pronghorn, the rabbits, the rattlesnakes, and the raptors.

My favorite place was Pawnee Buttes. The buttes stand on the boundary of the Pawnee National Grassland at the edge of the Colorado Piedmont, a drop-off where the floor of the plains falls away hundreds of feet in an escarpment of chalk bluffs. These bluffs are carved and latticed with a network of little canyons. A mile or so out from the bluffs, the two Pawnee Buttes rise some 300 feet. Their peaks are taller even than the plains above the escarpment. To me this site was lonely, wild, and breathtaking. I never got tired of it.

During those years I did lots of hiking around the bluffs and the buttes. Birds of prey nested in the bluffs—enough of them to be called a colony, though they were of different species. The first eagle I saw in the wild was at Pawnee Buttes. Horned toads also lived there, and I found porcupines back in those bluffs.

Mule deer lived in those canyons, too. In fact, the biggest deer I ever saw were there. In the West, you measure a deer’s antlers against its body width. A deer with antlers of a full body width is a decent trophy. At Pawnee Buttes I saw deer whose antlers stretched a full body width on either side of their torsos—magnificent animals. At the time I had a rifle in my hand—but the season was closed. No matter. The sight was unforgettable.

One of the most chilling moments I ever experienced occurred in those bluffs. I had followed a narrow canyon for perhaps half a mile into the bluffs when I became aware of a sort of electrical hum in the air. I couldn’t locate the sound, so I stood very still and tried to focus on its direction. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. That was when I realized that the cliffs on both sides of me were pockmarked with thousands of tiny burrows made by ground-dwelling bumblebees. You can believe that I backed out of that canyon very slowly and gently.

During my six years in Colorado I visited Pawnee Buttes many times. I never, ever met another person. It was so remote that nobody went there. It was like my own private Western preserve. I loved to think that those bluffs and buttes were virtually unchanged since pioneers had settled the West.

When I left Colorado I spent six years in Iowa, then another seven or eight in Texas. Eventually I relocated to Minnesota. On a trip westward I thought I’d take my children to see the Pawnee Buttes.

I said earlier that the buttes were located on the edge of the Pawnee National Grassland. They were bounded by private property all along the northern edge, and one of the buttes actually stood on private land. During the years that I was gone, the owners of that property had built windmills all along the horizon. Dozens—scores—hundreds of those mechanical monstrosities now formed the backdrop for every angle from which the buttes could be viewed. The remoteness, wildness, openness, and solitude of the site had been destroyed.

Worse yet, the Forest Service had decided that the site needed improving. I don’t know who they were expecting to visit, but the feds had built a wooden board walkway for access from a paved parking lot. Nonexistent tourists were supposed to stay on the walkway because otherwise they might disturb the raptors, dontcha know. You could no longer get close to anything that really mattered.

In short, both the rancher who owned the land and the federal agency that controlled the site had fallen under the sway of the environmentalists. The net effect was utterly to wreck everything that made that environment worth visiting. The Pawnee Buttes are no longer breathtaking. They’re ugly. If you ask me, that’s pollution of the very worst sort.

Scripture does not teach that we must preserve the created order in untouched condition, but I do think we should at least preserve some pristine sites. Pawnee Buttes should have been one of those sites. It’s too late now. The place has been polluted. I don’t intend to go back.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

All That I Was

Horatius Bonar (1808–1889)

All that I was, my sin, my guilt,
My death, was all my own;
All that I am I owe to Thee,
My gracious God, alone.

The evil of my former state
Was mine, and only mine;
The good in which I now rejoice
Is Thine, and only Thine.

The darkness of my former state,
The bondage, all was mine;
The light of life in which I walk,
The liberty, is Thine.

Thy Word first made me feel my sin,
It taught me to believe;
Then, in believing, peace I found,
And now I live, I live!

All that I am, e’en here on earth,
All that I hope to be,
When Jesus comes and glory dawns,
I owe it, Lord, to Thee.

 “My faith has found a resting place not in device nor creed….” This line opens one of the hymns that used to be sung regularly in Baptist churches. It is still sung in some. It can be taken in two ways.

One is to suggest that devices and creeds (or symbols or confessions—these terms are nearly interchangeable) are antithetical to genuine faith in Jesus Christ. In fact, the hymn itself sets up a contrast: “I trust the ever-living one: His wounds for me shall plead.” Understood in this sense, to trust Christ is to refuse to trust creeds and confessions.

The text can also be read a slightly better way. It can be understood to say that the real object of saving faith in Christ Himself: we trust in Him, and not in our statements about Him. Taken in this sense, the song is less obviously false, but it continues to suggest some sort of contrast between Christ and doctrine, with the former being essential and the latter being dispensable.

Frankly, I wish that we could eradicate this hymn from our worship. Why? Because we cannot trust Christ as a mere name or sentimental abstraction. We can only trust a Christ who is understood in some specific way. We could trust the Christ of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. We could trust the Christ of the Mormons. We could trust the Christ of the Unitarians. We could trust the Christ of Protestant Liberalism. Or we could trust the Christ of Christian orthodoxy.

Can’t we just trust the Christ of the Bible? The question seems reasonable, but it shows the exact problem. Each of these Christs purports to be the Christ of the Bible. The Jehovah’s Witnesses claim that their Christ is found in the Bible. The Mormons assert that their Christ is found in the Bible. It does no good to say, “I trust the Christ of the Bible,” unless you specify just who that Christ is.

“Alright,” you might say, “I believe that the Christ of the Bible is the Second Person of the Godhead: coequal, coeternal, and consubstantial with the Father.” Perhaps you might even back up this statement with some biblical references. If this is what you said, then you would be correct: this is the biblical Christ whom we must trust.

Perhaps you might continue, “I believe that by His incarnation the Christ of the Bible added to His deity a complete human nature, becoming fully and genuinely a man.” You might back up this statement with other biblical references. Once again, you would be right. This affirmation also defines the Christ whom we must trust.

You might further say, “I believe that the Christ of the Bible is one person in two complete natures, human and divine, such that His person must never be divided, and His natures must never be either confounded with or converted into each other.” Again, you might support this statement with biblical references. For the third time, if you said this, you would be correct. This affirmation also describes the Christ whom we must trust.

If you wished, you could add many similar true statements, each of which could be backed up by biblical references. Each of those statements would do two things. Positively, it would specify the identity of the biblical Christ who you claim to be biblical and in whom you believe. Negatively, it would contrast this Christ (the one you believe to be biblical) with the various false Christs (the ones apostates claim to be biblical).

Specifically, the first statement above contrasts the true, biblical Christ with the Christ of the Arians and the Modalists. The second statement contrasts the biblical Christ with the Christ of the Docetists, Cerinthians, and Apollinarians. The third statement contrasts the biblical Christ with the Christ of the Nestorians, Eutychians, and Monophysites. These contrasts go to the heart of the matter, because who Christ is determines what He can do. The biblical Christ can save if you trust Him. The Christs of the Arians, Modalists, Docetists, Cerinthians, Apollinarians, Nestorians, Eutychians, and Monophysites will send you to hell if you trust them.

Which Christ you believe to be biblical is an issue of paramount importance. It is not sufficient simply to say, “I believe in Christ.” You must believe in the right Christ among several contenders. You must believe in the true Christ. You must say which is the Christ of the Bible and which are pretenders. Therefore, the three statements above, and other statements like them, are absolutely indispensable to the Christian faith. You could not possibly claim to believe in the true and biblical Christ if you were to reject these statements.

Let us suppose that you were to take these statements and put them together, thus:

I believe that the Christ of the Bible is the Second Person of the Godhead: coequal, coeternal, and consubstantial with the Father. By His incarnation He added to His deity a complete human nature, becoming fully and genuinely a man. He is one person in two complete natures, human and divine, such that His person must never be divided, and His natures must never be either confounded with or converted into each other.

Affirming this statement would not save you, for only Christ Himself can save you. Yet the only Christ who can save is the Christ who is defined in this statement. Consequently, denying it would surely keep you from salvation. Your denial would keep you from the true and living Christ. If you trust the true and living one, then you are not simply trusting a name or a sentiment. Your only safe resting place is in the Christ of this statement.

Now notice that this statement is exactly a creed. Creeds are descriptions and definitions of what people take to be biblical. This particular creed certainly does not say everything that needs to be said, but it is still a creed. It describes or defines the only Christ who merits your trust because He is the only Christ who can save. If you are genuinely trusting the Christ of the Bible, then you are trusting the Christ of this creed. To deny this creed is to place yourself in eternal peril. Consequently, there is an important sense in which the resting place of your faith is in a device and creed.

Of course, we do not confuse creedal descriptions and definitions with the gospel message. We do not evangelize by simply having people repeat the creed. Indeed, people may and usually do trust Christ without knowing the full description and definition of His person and work. But that does not diminish the importance of having a description or definition. When you encounter someone who believes in a false Christ, then the defense of these creedal descriptions and definitions takes center stage.

We need devices and creeds. If we had not already received them, we would be forced to invent them. The only Christ who merits our trust is a Christ who is rightly described in creeds.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

O Praise Ye the Lord

Tate and Brady (1696)

O praise ye the Lord, Prepare your glad voice,
His praise in the great Assembly to sing;
In their great Creator Let Israel rejoice;
And children of Zion Be glad in their King.

Let them His great Name Extol in their songs,
With hearts well attuned His praises express;
Who always takes pleasure To hear their glad tongues,
And waits with salvation The humble to bless.

With glory adorned, His people shall sing
To God, Who their heads With safety doth shield;
Such honor and triumph His favor shall bring;
O therefore for ever All praise to Him yield!

How many recessions have I lived through? The first one I can remember was the “stagflation” triggered by the oil crisis and stock market crash in 1973-74. Then came the recession(s) of the later Carter regime: a double dip in 1980, which was then aggravated by the Iranian Revolution and its subsequent events. Another spike in oil prices precipitated a recession in late 1990 which lasted into 1991: I was moving from Iowa to Texas at the time and had to find a job at the bottom of that recession. It was compounded by bad loans made by the so-called “Thrifts” or “Savings and Loans;” they went out of business. Things were fine for a decade until the “dot-com bubble” burst in 2001, leading to another economic plunge. Then came the Great Recession of 2007, which lasted for over a year. Now we are in the Great Lockdown, which has turned into a new recession.

I’m neither a survivalist nor a prepper. Barring the Rapture, I’m not anticipating TEOTWAWKI during my lifetime. In fact, whenever the politicians or the press begin to talk about some kind of crisis, I immediately grow suspicious and dig in my heels. Most putative crises are no more than excuses by power mongers to introduce sweeping changes to which clearheaded and free people would never otherwise submit.

Nonetheless, one thing is clear. Hard times do come, even in prosperous countries. They have come regularly in the past. Economists calculate that the United States has experienced nearly fifty recessions over the past 245 years. In other words, on average, this country has experienced some sort of economic downturn about every five years (or just a bit more). Given the regularity of these occurrences in the past, we don’t need a prophet to tell us that they are likely to come again.

Even during good times, bad things can happen. Businesses go bust. Employees are fired or laid off. Natural disasters occur. Life choices may backfire, creating unforeseen hardship. Jesus’ own half-brother reminded us that we “know not what shall be on the morrow” (Jas 4:14).

You can be confident that hard times are looming. If you’re not in them now, you will be at some point. Therefore, it makes sense to get ready to face them. Here are several strategies that will help you to prepare.

First, most ordinary people need to learn to live modestly and even frugally. We have to distinguish wishes from needs, and then to secure the real necessities. For example, if you want to prepare for hard times you can live in an older and smaller residence. You can usually limit yourself to a single, older car. You can eat your own cooking, dining at restaurants only on special occasions. You can limit the number of plans and subscriptions you sign up for. You can buy many necessities second-hand at garage sales and thrift stores.

Second, eliminate most or all luxuries. Things like smart phones, power boats, snowmobiles, ATVs, gaming machines, espressos, lattes, cappuccinos, home theaters, much computer equipment, and (for most people) high-speed internet are luxuries. Such things have a tendency to multiply: if you permit one, it turns into many. Nothing will drain your resources faster.

Third, don’t treat your possessions as disposable items. Buy clothes, shoes, and accessories that won’t go out of style, and then keep using them until they wear out. Don’t trade your car in on a new model—drive it until you’ve used it up. Don’t discard your leftovers from dinner—warm them up for lunch the next day. Use up what you have before you replace it with something new.

Fourth, never buy any consumable or depreciating item on credit. Never. The only loan that you should have is the mortgage on your home, and you should make a priority of paying it off. You can use credit cards, but only as a short-term substitute for cash. Never buy something with a credit card that you will not pay off at the end of the month. I can’t stress this strongly enough: credit will enslave you. It will absolutely destroy your ability to prepare.

Fifth, learn to do things for yourself instead of paying other people to do them for you. Perhaps you can change your own oil or paint your own house. Maybe you can plant a vegetable garden and can or freeze some of the produce. You can learn to clear your own drains, shingle your own roof, or sew your own clothes. Wives can learn to cut their husbands’ hair (though the reverse is not usually true). Everything that you can learn to do for yourself will help to stretch your resources further.

Sixth, force yourself to save. It is sinfully wrong to believe that the Lord will always provide when you face needs. Usually He provides before the need comes. You are then responsible to manage His provision. If you squander it on something other than the coming need, then that is your fault and not His. Just assume that at some point you are going to be out of work for a month or six. Make sure you keep enough food and other necessities to last you that long. Have money in the bank to pay your mortgage, utilities, and other bills while you have no income. Plan now so that you will be prepared when it happens.

These strategies need to become habits of life. You need to practice them until they become second nature. You need to get so used to living modestly that you no longer miss what you do not have; you must become “content with such things as ye have” (Heb 13:5). These are not short-term tricks, but patterns of living to adopt until you really are prepared (or as prepared as one can be) for hard times to come. Interestingly, once you are prepared, you’re likely to discover that many of these patterns continue. That’s alright—these are the same patterns that will enable you to abound toward others.

Too many people spend what they receive almost as soon as they get it. They buy on impulse to meet an immediate wish, sometimes running up enormous debt to do it. They assume that nothing will ever go wrong. When it does, they feel victimized. They begin looking for somebody to blame. They feel entitled to some sort of bailout, and they often begin to demand some sort of “stimulus.” They are fools (Prov 10:21; 13:4, 16; 21:20, 25-26; 22:3).

Let these attitudes never characterize God’s people. Yes, He is providing. He will continue to provide. Nevertheless, He commits to us the responsibility to manage His provision wisely and carefully. If we do, we will be able to weather hard times when they come. We will have what we need. Indeed, we will have enough to share.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Come, My Fond Fluttering Heart

Jane Taylor (1783–1824)

Come, my fond fluttering heart,
Come, struggle to be free,
Thou and the world must part,
However hard it be:
My trembling spirit owns it just,
But cleaves yet closer to the dust.

Ye tempting sweets, forbear,
Ye dearest idols, fall;
My heart ye must not share,
Jesus shall have it all:
‘Tis bitter pain, ‘tis cruel smart,
But ah! thou must consent, my heart!

Ye fair enchanting throng!
Ye golden dreams, farewell!
Earth has prevail’d too long,
And now I break the spell:
Ye cherish’d joys of early years,
Jesus, forgive these parting tears.

O may I feel thy worth,
And let no idol dare,
No vanity of earth,
With thee, my Lord, compare:
Now bid all worldly joys depart,
And reign supremely in my heart!

Can we talk? There’s a problem that I’d like to share with you. It’s not one that I can fix, but maybe you can.

Since I’ve been at Central Seminary, the Lord has permitted me to occupy many pulpits. I’ve enjoyed visiting the churches, getting to know the people, and fellowshipping with new congregations. In some cases I’ve been invited to return to those churches many times, and the relationship has grown deeper each time.

The truth is that I would be willing to donate my time and efforts to help God’s people. My income from the seminary meets my expenses and even allows me a bit extra. I don’t need extra income from itinerant ministry to pay the bills. I would never turn a church down for meetings just because the congregation was unable to pay me.

In fact, there have been times when I have not been paid. Sometimes the pastor has explained that the church just can’t afford to give me anything—and that’s fine with me. Other times I’ve agreed that the church’s giving should go to some other project. There have also been occasions when the church has given me nothing but the pastor hasn’t told me anything about it. When that happens, I find myself faced with dilemma: should I say something to the pastor or shouldn’t I? On the one hand, I don’t want to sound mercenary. On the other hand, the lapse could be the result of an unfortunate oversight, an administrative bumble, or (just possibly) dishonesty. I’ve known of situations in which some crooked church fiduciary would skim the honoraria for guest speakers, counting on the speakers not to complain. Well, I wouldn’t complain—but if the pastor says nothing and no honorarium appears within a month or two, I will ask him what his intention was.

Churches vary widely in their handling of expenses and honoraria. Most churches will cover transportation expenses and provide at least a modest honorarium. Some churches receive a love offering in lieu of either covering expenses or providing an honorarium. A few churches provide an honorarium but do not cover expenses. Among the churches that provide honoraria, the smallest are about fifty dollars per service, while the most generous can run to several hundred dollars per service. Interestingly, the size of the honorarium is often not proportioned to the size of the church. Some of the most generous churches in which I’ve ministered are also among the smallest.

And here is where I want to bring up the problem that I hope you’ll help me solve. Many of those smaller honoraria are not adequate to cover even the speaker’s cost to travel to the church. A guest speaker actually loses money every time he fills one of those pulpits. He effectively pays for the privilege of preaching to those congregations.

For me, that’s not a problem. Central Seminary pays me enough that I can afford to take a financial loss on some engagements. And besides, my next engagement will usually make up the difference.

Not ever speaker has that flexibility. For example, seminary students are often tapped to fill pulpits. Their incomes are usually stretched already. They are supporting young, growing families. They are paying tuition for their schooling. Sometimes they are actually trusting God for their next meal, and they may see a speaking engagement as God’s provision. If, however, the church neglects to compensate them—or even delays compensation—this neglect may result in genuine financial hardship.

Scripture is clear on this count: the laborer is worthy of his reward (1 Tim 5:18). Paul quoted these words when he was teaching about paying those who “labor in the word and doctrine,” i.e., preaching and teaching. He elsewhere taught that God has ordained that people who “preach the gospel should live of the gospel” (1 Cor 9:14). In other words, a local church has a duty to care financially for those who minister the Word in its midst.

So what should a church do? How should it fulfill its biblical obligation to care for the preachers who stand in its pulpit? I suggest the following.

First, every church should be sure to reimburse the expenses of the speaker. The church should cover all expenses for lodging and meals for the speaker and for his wife (if she comes).If a speaker flies to the engagement or rents a car, then the church should reimburse the exact amount of the expense. If he drives his own car, a fair way of calculating his expense is to approximate the per-mile figure that the IRS publishes (currently about $.57 per mile). For example, if a church reimburses at just $.50 per mile, a speaker who travels two hours (120 miles) away should receive a reimbursement of $120 for the round trip.

Second, a church should also remunerate the speaker fairly for the time he invests in his teaching and preaching. This includes not only the time actually spent in the pulpit but also the time spent in preparation and transportation. Suppose a speaker is traveling two hours to an engagement where he will teach Sunday school and preach for two Sunday services. For each lesson or sermon he will likely spend five to ten hours in preparation. Taking the minimum figure, he will have invested fifteen hours in preparation, four hours in transportation, and three hours in the public services, for a total of twenty-two hours on one day’s ministry. Minnesota has a minimum wage of ten dollars per hour. If the church pays this man a $200 honorarium, he will receive substantially less than minimum wage for his labors. That is one reason why, under ordinary circumstances, an honorarium of $100 per service should be viewed as minimal.

Third, some churches will choose to receive a love offering for the speaker. This custom provides a wonderful opportunity for individual church members to exhibit gratitude for the day’s ministry. It is entirely appropriate. Nevertheless, the church should also adopt a policy that the love offering will be supplemented from church funds if it does not reach a stated minimum amount. That amount should be adequate to cover expenses plus reasonable compensation for the speaker’s time and effort.

Most churches handle this situation magnificently. I am deeply grateful for churches that have ministered to me in a material way. On the other hand, I would never begrudge ministry to a church that cannot pay as well—or even at all. While I’m willing to absorb a loss, however, not every preacher is in the same position. Christ lays the obligation upon the church to care for these men who minister the Word.

How can you help? If you are a church member but not an officer, then show this article to your pastor. If you are a pastor, then reprint this article for your congregation. If you are a deacon, then bring this article to the next deacons’ meeting so you and your peers can review your church’s policies. That would be a first step toward fixing the problem.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

When God Inclines the Heart to Pray

Benjamin Beddome (1717–1795)

When God inclines the heart to pray,
He hath an ear to hear;
To Him there’s music in a groan,
And beauty in a tear.

The humble suppliant cannot fail,
To have his wants supplied,
Since He for sinners intercedes,
Who once for sinners died.

Few things have so universally affected the missionary movement like the current COVID-19 pandemic. As the world’s economy has ground to a halt, so too has the advance of the gospel been significantly curtailed. With “shelter-in-place” orders stretching from California to Canada, Romania to Rwanda, the world is facing the pandemic with vigorous efforts to halt its spread and mitigate its effects.

Americans are under orders to remain in our homes with limited movement. Restaurants are closed to sit-down dining; non-essential businesses are also shuttered and social distancing is the order of the day. Churches which would be preparing for Good Friday and the Easter weekend are now thinking of creative ways to make this year’s celebration unique and special.

There is a body of people affected in unusual ways by this global situation—our missionaries. My son and his family returned to the US for a four-month furlough in late February, just in time to have most of his prearranged meetings cancelled and his well-thought-out travel plans disrupted. Conferences he was to attend were suspended and long-overdue visits are on hold. Even his scheduled return to Zambia in early July is uncertain but hopeful. A consequence of the disrupted furlough is the inability to connect with churches in person to report on past activities and future plans. Many churches are using technology in the interim to maintain connections with the congregations that cannot meet in person. He spoke at his first scheduled mission conference to an empty auditorium and into a digital camera. He has Zoom meetings with churches and supporters, but helpful as this is, it is not the same as face-to-face meetings with pastors, church leaders, and congregations, meetings which normally include informal fellowship and prayer times. His churches are doing their best to help him in these days.

Recently, I was communicating with a mission leader who is dealing with the unique problems his missionaries are facing during these unprecedented days. I have already alluded to numerous problems state-side missionaries are facing, in addition to normal virus precautions: travel plans cancelled, churches not having regular services, some not having any services at all, concerns about getting to or returning from the field. Missionaries on full-time deputation are stuck and may not even qualify for unemployment benefits. For missionaries overseas, the problems compound. They have concerns about their families so far from home and their families back at home. How can they be close to older parents who may be imperiled by COVID-19?

Missionaries also face health concerns of their own. Those in the majority world struggles with medical care at the best of times. Missionaries who are in countries with substantial health care resources may be in the hot-zones. They have little to no way to leave these places even if they wished to do so. They will need to ride out the storm. Missionaries who leave should not be judged against those who stay. Circumstances make these choices unique and must be made in concert with the sending churches and mission agencies. The decision to stay put or go home can be very difficult. If a missionary chooses to leave, the family will need support. If a missionary chooses to stay, it may mean weeks of isolation with little or no “work” to do for which they were commissioned. Missionary work demands lots of face-to-face interaction, Bible studies, and evangelistic outreaches, which are likely curtailed. Novice missionaries, who may be in the midst of language school or who may be dealing with culture shock, are trapped in strange places. “Cabin fever,” a challenge in the best of circumstances, can be compounded in a time like this. Grocery stores in some two-thirds world countries have a hard time staying stocked in normal times; how difficult might it be in these times of chaos? Some may experience food shortages and security issues in their countries. Challenges abound.

Financially, the missionaries may also be threatened. With the stock market in a rollercoaster pattern and churches not meeting, supporting churches have an uncertain revenue stream, meaning that supported missionaries may find their monthly commitments diminishing because churches cannot give what they do not have. In some countries, the currency may be in freefall, helping to offset some of the potential lost support. Planned furloughs must be put on hold for those who need to return from the field. Some mission agencies have emergency evacuation plans for exceptional circumstances for overseas personnel, but a pandemic could drain emergency funds, making repatriation for some impossible. Airlines are flying limited routes and even official needs like visa applications and renewals may be impossible to obtain. I have a friend who needs to return to his country soon to renew his visa, but it is looking like this will not happen. If the visa lapses, will the country renew it? Another friend has a work permit, but his country is telling him that it will not be renewed as he does not offer an “essential service” in times like this.

Beyond the personal and financial challenges, our missionaries are facing the myriad of issues related to the discipleship work they are doing. People have life and death questions. Missionaries will seize the moments as they can using technology to alleviate some of the issues, but some missionaries serve in places where electricity and internet are spotty at the best of times. Nationals may not be connected. Pressures from a country in chaos may make things intolerable. Other missionaries have itinerant work, with travel a necessary component. Even if they wished to travel, they may be unable. Some may even be “stuck” in a place they traveled to but cannot get out from now that travel bans are in place. Or they may fear being caught if they do travel, so their options are limited.

Finally, there is the emotional toll that this is surely exacting on our missionaries. I know my family and I are stressed more than normal and our life is certainly less impacted than many overseas servants of the Lord. We have stable internet and pastoral support near at hand. Living in a strange land with few real friends, being cooped up in small apartments with little or no outside access so that children can run and get exercise, may be very taxing for some of our missionary families.

So what can we do from afar or near to help our missionaries during this exceptional time? First, we can be alert to the many kinds of issues they may now be facing that have not been reported in traditional missionary updates. “Pray for us as we enter into a sixth week of quarantine.” When is the last time you read a request like that? Prayer is the most important thing we can do for our missionaries. Beyond that, we need to do all we can to maintain their support lest they be left in a more difficult strait through want of finances. Send extra if we can to help our missionaries and to let them know they are loved and cared for. Third, drop them a note or FaceTime them to let them know you are praying for them and standing with them. There is one thing about days like this: we have a pretty good idea of where to find people—at home, hunkered down, waiting for things to improve! Reassure our missionaries that they are not forgotten and that we are praying for them to stay healthy and thrive with the Lord during these days. Finally, pray for their work. It’s the Lord’s work and it will go on, virus or no virus. Missionaries will have unique opportunities of ministry not afforded them at other times. Pray for them to use these to the glory of God.

God is in control of world events. He is building His church and not even the gates of hell can prevail against it. Our missionaries are in the vanguard of gospel advance. Let’s stand with them in these interesting days!

This essay is by Jeff Straub, Professor of Historical Theology and Missions at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

from The Sacrifice

George Herbert (1593–1633)

Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear:
For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear,
Though I my vine planted and watered there:
Was ever grief like mine?

So sits the earth’s great curse in Adam’s fall
Upon my head: so I remove it all
From th’ earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall:
Was ever grief like mine?

…

O all ye who pass by, behold and see;
Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree;
The tree of life to all, but only me:
Was ever grief like mine?                                   

Lo, here I hang, charg’d with a world of sin,
The greater world o’ th’ two; for that came in
By words, but this by sorrow I must win:
Was ever grief like mine?

Such sorrow as, if sinful man could feel,
Or feel his part, he would not cease to kneel.
Till all were melted, though he were all steel:
Was ever grief like mine?

But, O my God, my God! why leav’st thou me,
The son, in whom thou dost delight to be?
My God, my God————
Never was grief like mine.

We are living in unprecedented times, to be sure. On Friday, New York Mayor Bill DeBlasio suggested that all churches and synagogues who do not comply with the notice to suspend meetings could be forced to close…permanently. News has just come out that a prominent Florida pastor was arrested over the weekend for defying the order not to assemble. Who would have thought it would come to this in America? Seems like the First Amendment to the Constitution has already addressed this issue. These are uncertain times.

Even if your church has agreed to the voluntary closures (we have here at Fourth Baptist), the challenge of ministering to people and keeping churches “open” has presented a new set of problems. For example, churches are now offering online giving. In this digital age, churches have set up bill pay apps to receive donations. And why not? What’s wrong with an app that allows you to simply deduct your gift, weekly, monthly, or periodically from your bank account? For the record, I gave my church an offering today because, despite the shutdown, the needs of the church still go on. Still, I don’t like online giving to my local church because it seems to me that the Bible instructs us to think about what we will give (as each one purposes in his heart, so let him give, 2 Cor 9:7). Moreover, we are to bring our gifts as an act of worship. Online giving can be “thoughtless” but our giving should be purposeful. I understand that some will argue that online giving allows for regularity, anonymity, and ensures that the church work will continue. Agreed. But I will switch back to giving in the service as an act of worship rather than doing online giving once this crisis is over.

Giving is one thing. Doing church online is something else. Can we even do church online? Is this really possible? For the record, the pandemic has not been the start of online church meetings, and when the pandemic is over, they will not disappear. I imagine that the sheer convenience of these meetings will ensure they continue until the internet breaks or Jesus returns. I must confess, from time to time, my wife and I have enjoyed a service at Fourth Baptist remotely when we have been up on the North Shore. I occasionally listen to the preaching of my successor at Emmanuel Baptist in Windsor, Ontario, online. I am sure our seniors and shut-ins appreciate listening in when they cannot get out. What a great day in which to live.

Having access to good preaching from around the world from the comfort of your living room, what could be better? Assembling with the Lord’s people for fellowship and worship. The question of remote church is an important one. Can we have church as the Bible defines it digitally? If we really can, why not sell our buildings and use the money for missions! If we cannot do church digitally, are we doing wrong by having online services at all? Some churches are refusing to hold online meetings. Older pastors don’t have the technological skills while others think that online services are misguided, if not completely unbiblical.

Before I address these questions, let’s look at the Old Testament and the Temple. The Temple contained the central altar. It was only there on that altar that the sacrifices to God could be offered. The Jews, if they wanted to offer acceptable worship, had to journey to the central altar to worship. When divine judgment came and the central altar was razed, the Jews were left without a place where true worship could be performed. Moreover, the Jews were scattered in the Diaspora, making it nearly impossible to go to Jerusalem. So, they came up with the synagogue system. Jews met to carry out what they could do legitimately in the absence of the central altar. They could do some things at the synagogue but not others. The synagogues offered some opportunity but could not fully meet the need for Jewish worship. While the necessity of the synagogue may have been a consequence of Jewish intransigence and much of Jewish efforts were works of the flesh, neither Jesus nor the disciples had any problem using the synagogue system to promote the Christian message. They certainly didn’t boycott it. Was it the Temple? Clearly not. Could it be used to convey biblical truth, even to deliver biblical sermons? Apparently.

In the same way, digital meetings offer Christians opportunities to hear the Word preached, perhaps sing some songs together, hear announcements of the needs of the assembly, and pray “together,” etc. But you cannot have a digital assembly; church cannot be digital and still be church.

Part of what makes the church church is the “gathering of ourselves together,” which clearly cannot be done digitally. Without corporate gatherings we cannot worship God corporately as the church was intended to do. There is an aspect of worship that demands a gathered multitude. We cannot do this digitally. Nor can we partake of the Lord’s Supper digitally, despite creative attempts to the contrary. We share the communion meal together as an assembly. It is not a private ceremony; it is a corporate act that we should do regularly. We gather together to celebrate the Lord’s death until He comes. How often we do this is a matter of Christian discretion—weekly, monthly, quarterly, yearly, occasionally. Personally, I think more is better. If I would hazard a guess, I think among Baptists, monthly is likely the most frequent pattern. But communion is rightly done when the church gathers. I’ve seen communion given to newly-weds. That’s not biblical communion. We don’t have communion with our students. Communion is a gathered local church activity.

As Baptists, we hold to a symbolic and non-salvific meaning to communion. It doesn’t do anything for us. We are no better for the partaking or no worse for not partaking. It won’t save us. But it has spiritual benefit which comes from a gathered celebration. We unite around the Table in common koinonia (fellowship). Attempts to have communion digitally are efforts in futility. These attempts won’t accomplish what is intended to be accomplished at the Table; they are unbiblical.

What about drive-in church? Some churches have been having people gather in their cars in the church parking lot while the meeting is broadcast over an FM channel. It’s creative. But I’m not sure how it differs from digital attempts. There is no mutual edification, especially if we maintain social distancing. Moreover, I am not sure what more is accomplished with drive-in over digital. Both fall short of New Testament ekklesia.

So, should we stop online efforts? Why? They do provide teaching and encouragement. Our pastor preached a fine message from Psalm 23 last Sunday. These online labors offer some attempt at togetherness, even if it’s not church. But, while we wait on the Lord to turn the virus to naught, and while we watch or participate in these online activities, we need to long for the day when we can gather again and do church as the Bible prescribes it. By all means, minister to the shut-ins with a digital feed. But don’t think that this is church. It isn’t, and I for one look forward to the end of all of this when we can again assemble together to worship our Great God!

This essay is by Jeff Straub, Professor of Historical Theology and Missions at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Psalm 133

Scottish Psalter and Paraphrases, 1650

Behold, how good a thing it is,
and how becoming well,
Together such as brethren are
in unity to dwell!

Like precious ointment on the head,
that down the beard did flow,
Ev’n Aaron’s beard, and to the skirts,*
did of his garments go.

As Hermon’s dew, the dew that doth
on Sion’ hills descend:
For there the blessing God commands,
life that shall never end.