Christ is one, and he alone is righteousness for all who believe in him, irrespective of anything in themselves and irrespective of their place in the church. But office has higher standards than membership, is available only to a select few (Jas. 3:1), and is not meant to glorify the ones who hold it but so that they may serve everyone else in humility and without partiality. (Mk. 10:42-45; 1 Tim. 5:21). 

Last year I asserted that we should reconsider what terms we employ in discussing the question of fitness for office in the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA). Subsequent correspondence suggests that such an assertion merits further consideration. Of particular interest is the concept of the unthinkable in moral questions.
In such matters conscious obedience to what has been explicitly stated is, it needs but little comment, of great importance. God has revealed his moral law in the Old Testament, clearly transcribing by the hand of his prophet Moses those things that he wishes men to do or refrain from doing. But alongside of the question of intentionally obeying such explicit commands is the related matter of the unthinkable.
Consider an example. Some time ago I was working in a clinic where a boy was getting a shot. He resisted by making a scene, to which what appeared to be his grandmother responded by chiding him for his incivility. The boy responded by loudly cursing this poor woman.
When I mentioned this incident to a coworker from Michigan, he, while not approving the behavior, nonetheless asserted there were occasions in which he could conceivably curse while addressing his mother, albeit not with a disrespectful tone. That notion, like the boy’s behavior, is utterly foreign to my Southern upbringing, so much so that I am not sure what would have happened to me if I had ever done either. It was simply inconceivable that I would ever curse in the presence of a parent or grandparent, much less toward one.
Nor was this because I had the advantage of a rigorous Presbyterian upbringing (I didn’t). I knew that one does not disrespect familial authority like that even when I was, at most, vaguely familiar that Ex. 21:17 exists. This was because I was the beneficiary of a common moral sense that had been developed and propagated by my culture in the form of sundry taboos.
And central to the effectiveness of such taboos is the concept of the unthinkable: for what cannot be thought in one’s own mind cannot be discussed with others, and what cannot be discussed openly cannot be done with impunity. The creation of the taboo is a strong impediment to the commission of the behavior it ultimately seeks to defend against.
Now such taboos are not merely a result of God’s common grace (where they are beneficial), nor a result of sin (where they depart from his will, Mk. 7:1-5, 9-20; 1 Tim. 4:3-5); they are to have their place also in the church, provided of course that they are fully in accord with scripture and do not go beyond it by forbidding what God allows (Col. 2:18, 20-23; 1 Tim. 4:3) or requires (Matt. 15:3-6). See, for example, 1 Corinthians 5. A man in Corinth had married his step mother (a violation of Lev. 18:8), and Paul in his letter is aghast that such a thing had not only occurred but also been boasted over (vv. 2, 6).
It is not clear why the church was boastful about such a thing, but some think that it involved a misunderstanding of liberty in Christ.1 Whatever its precise cause, the church had stumbled by permitting what even pagans recognized as intolerably evil  (v. 1).
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There is a twofold error in commending Aquinas: the immediate one being that he is an idolater, and the secondary one being it involves an implicit following of Rome’s lead, commending works by her members, and keeping a measure of company with her. Dominicans have been employed by Credo as teachers, and scarcely an issue passes without that magazine including articles or interviews with members of that communion, or commending works by them. Such following Rome’s lead is wrong because Rome has not repented those errors of doctrine and practice that sparked the Reformation, and has in some cases stiffened her neck and made herself yet worse.

What if I told you, dear reader, that prominent members of the Protestant theological academy are enamored by someone whose writings commend the practice of idolatry? Scripture is clear that someone who promotes idolatry is a false teacher (Rev. 2:14, 20; comp. Num. 25:1-2; 31:16), and that such false teachers are wolves in sheep’s clothing (Matt. 7:15), who come disguised as angels of light (2 Cor. 11:14-15), and whose company ruins the good doctrine of those who associate with them (1 Cor. 15:33; comp. Prov. 13:20). It is clear as well that such people are known by their deeds (Matt. 7:16-20) and that their words betray the state of their hearts (12:33-37); that they have no inheritance in the Kingdom of God (1 Cor. 6:9; Eph. 5:5); and that they are not to be entertained for even a moment when their false teaching becomes known (Deut. 13:6-8). As such you would, I hope, recognize that such a teacher’s admirers were wrong to approve him, and in so doing had lost their sense and spoken unworthily of their positions and of their task of guarding and propagating sound doctrine (Acts 20:28; 1 Tim. 4:16; Tit. 1:9; 2 Jn. 8-9).
Alas, my hypothetical situation is actually the case at present. Here are two quotes from a currently-popular teacher promoting the worship of images of Christ:
The same reverence should be shown to Christ’s image as to Christ Himself.
The Apostles, led by the inward instinct of the Holy Ghost, handed down to the churches certain instructions which they did not put in writing . . . among these traditions is the worship of Christ’s image.
And two promoting the worship of the cross:
In each way it is worshiped with the same adoration as Christ, viz. the adoration of “latria.” And for this reason also we speak to the cross and pray to it, as to the Crucified Himself.
By reason of the contact of Christ’s limbs we worship not only the cross, but all that belongs to Christ. Wherefore Damascene says (De Fide Orth. iv, 11): “The precious wood, as having been sanctified by the contact of His holy body and blood, should be meetly worshiped; as also His nails, His lance, and His sacred dwelling-places, such as the manger, the cave and so forth.
That is idolatry, the giving of the worship due only to God to a material object (Ex. 20:3-5; Lev. 26:1). God says to “flee from idolatry” (1 Cor. 10:14), and “not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother if he is guilty of sexual immorality or greed, or is an idolater” (5:11). So evil is idolatry that he commanded the ancient Israelites to execute anyone who so much as suggested it (Deut. 13:1-11). (The application of that principle for us in the present is avoidance, as shown in the verses quoted above: violence is not part of the new covenant in Christ [Jn. 18:36], and our warfare is spiritual, not carnal [2 Cor. 10:3-4].) Viewed from another angle, the proper role of God’s shepherds includes warning his sheep to avoid such people (Acts 20:28-31; Col. 1:28), as the Apostles did in their epistles cited above.
Yet that is not what some of our professors – many of whom are ordained as pastors as well – have been doing. They have forgotten the very concept of false teachers, and the commands that they are to be avoided (2 Jn. 10) and warned against, as well as that the sheep are easily led astray by such false teachers, whose cunning and ability to deceive are terrible (Matt. 24:11, 25). They have gone along with an intellectual fad and commended others do likewise, and have held forth a certain ancient false teacher as someone who should be ‘retrieved’ for today and read gladly.
The name of that teacher is Thomas Aquinas, and well might we ask such men what Paul asked the Galatians (3:1): “who has bewitched you?” An idolater is ipso facto not a representative of God, but has come forth to deceive. We may ask further: why have you allowed yourselves to be led astray, and for what cause do your ears itch (2 Tim. 4:3) so? Have you forgotten God’s pronouncement that “blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers” (Ps. 1:1)? Are idolaters no longer in the foremost ranks of the wicked, that you take one so eagerly as your master and guide, and even name a system of thought (“Thomism”) after him?
Ah, but someone will say that in many matters he adhered to the truth and explained it well. Even if this were so – and it is a point which is not here conceded – have you forgotten that sound doctrine that is abetted by falsehood or that issues as errant practice is useless? For “even the demons believe” (Jas.2:19), and yet they have no qualms using their sound knowledge to deceive the unwary all that much better. I hope, however, that you have not so much forgotten yourself, dear reader, and that you have kept discernment and good sense about you in these matters (Prov. 14:8; Matt. 24:4; 1 Thess. 5:21; 1 Jn. 4:1).
And to answer that question with which I began my rhetorical digression above, the present fascination with Aquinas is largely driven by a certain faction in the Roman communion. To be sure, such figures as R.C. Sproul, Norman Geisler, and John Gerstner – whose Protestant bona fides and general helpfulness speak for themselves – were quite approving of the study of Aquinas, but they have either passed, or else their works were of a previous generation. Gerstner’s article trying to claim Aquinas as a proto-Protestant came out in 1994, part of a larger issue about him, while Geisler’s Thomas Aquinas: An Evangelical Appraisal appeared in 1991.
Today’s movement to popularize Aquinas is largely a creature of Romanists, such men as Matthew Levering, Thomas Joseph White, and Reinhard Hütter.
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I wear my weakness badge because it gives me a chance to boast in God. I will brag again even now: I glory in my headache because it has been an astonishing source of joy in my life. I know without doubt that I have tasted the sweetness of all-sufficient grace more exquisitely because of my weakness than I ever would have if my ordeal had never happened. The experience of God’s gracious strength through pain has been more precious than gold—so precious, in fact, that it is more dear to me than healing.

Do you have your go-to parts of God’s Word? I do. For comfort, there’s Isaiah 40. For identity in Jesus, there’s Ephesians 1–3. To see Christ’s majesty, there’s Hebrews 1. For a heavenly hug, there’s Romans 8:28–39. For a reminder of who wins, there’s Revelation 19–22. And for purpose in my pain—the help needed during seemingly senseless affliction—there’s 2 Corinthians 12:1–10.
That’s where Paul writes about a painful harassing thorn in his life given to him by God. Despite Paul’s repeated prayers, God let him know that he was not going to remove the thorn. Instead, the pain would keep Paul humble, and through that thorn Paul would experience the sufficiency of God’s grace and the perfecting of God’s sustaining strength. Consequently, he never felt stronger than when he was weak, and he came to glory in what gave him grief. Whatever this chronic pain was, it not only kept him from pride, it became his pride!
The Backstory and My Story
There’s a backstory here. Paul had had some incredible spiritual privileges in his life, what he calls the “surpassing greatness of revelations.” These visions of heaven were glorious enough to make any normal man pretty full of himself—and Paul was, despite all his gifts and ministry, still a very normal man. So God gave him a thorn to keep him from becoming conceited. What this thorn was we do not know, and it doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to know that it was a chronically harassing and painfully humbling trial, and that it was given to guard Paul from the pride of self-sufficient superiority. Apparently, chronic affliction is the kind of pride-deterrent that some of us need.
I should know. While I am no Paul, I have been privileged. I’ve heard the gospel since birth. I had godly parents. I’ve had great teachers. I’ve experienced supernatural gifts, along with ministry opportunities that many only dream of. I’ve never had a bad pastor. I’ve been reading and digesting theology since youth, with theology books coming out my ears. I’ve had wonderful partners in ministry, a happy marriage, beloved children, over a dozen grand-children, a measure of spiritual insight, forty years of ministry experience, and at least some ability to preach and write—all of which can tempt toward self-sufficient pride.
I am convinced this is why I have a headache. I will not bore with all the details (though if you want to know more, check out my book about this). What I will say is that I had viral meningitis over thirty-three years ago, and it left me with constant head pain, always at least 6.5 on a scale of 10. The math works out to more than 12,000 days and 288,000 hours of God-given aching pain in a row. I believe God saw the pride danger I was in and sent me a thorn—a piercing, painful, persistent problem—to remind me every single day that I cannot do anything unless he enables it. My stabbing thorn bleeds my pride with relentless effect.
Paul says his affliction was God-given, but Satan delivered. I believe the same is true for me. To be sure, the mystery of the heavenly realms is on display here. We know Paul’s thorn was God-given since it was intended to keep him from conceit, something Satan would not be interested in quelling. But we also know it was Satan-delivered because, well, Paul says so. I don’t understand the workings of the invisible dimension, but I do know that no trial ever gets to me without God’s consent and that whenever evil gets involved, God still wins (Gen. 50:20). Satan wants my headache to create doubts about God’s love.
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