Given the long-established nature of creedal confessions and the unlikelihood that they will ever prove to be in error, the church should consider these affirmations as true and commendable, offering wisdom for its contemporary theological formulations.

Over the course of the last several months, I’ve been engaging in a friendly dialogue about the proper posture that Christians should adopt toward the Holy Spirit. My conversation partner maintains that, whereas the third Person of the Trinity is fully and truly God, co-equal with the first Person and second Person, in no place does Scripture explicitly reveal a believer giving glory, honor, prayer, thanksgiving, and worship to the Holy Spirit. My friend’s conclusion is that, lacking such biblical warrant for an adoring posture in relationship to the Spirit, Christians should not worship and glorify him. Importantly, my friend posits that whereas the Spirit is entitled to such adoration, he foregoes it in favor of the other two divine Persons who, together with the third Person, have decided that glory should be directed toward them—the Father and the Son—and not toward the Holy Spirit.
Part of my discussion has been to refer to the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed[1] through which the Christian church has historically confessed its belief “in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified, who spoke by the prophets.” Not only does this creedal article affirm the full deity of the Spirit (who is called “the Lord” and who, as “Giver of Life,” is engaged in creation and recreation, both of which are divine activities), but it explicitly confesses that he, together with the Father and the Son, is revered. That is, the co-eminence of the third Person with the first Person and the second Person means that the praise, honor, adoration, thanksgiving, and glory that we direct to the Spirit does not differ in essence from those same activities directed toward the Father and the Son. My contention is that this affirmation of the Spirit’s worthiness of worship is an excellent summary of Scripture and, having passed the test of time without being overturned, should direct our posture toward the Holy Spirit today.
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Given the liberal (members, churches) elements’ abandonment of essential matters, conservative (members, churches) must withdraw. In such cases, the operative framework echoes Paul’s words (2 Cor. 6:14–16): Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness? What accord has Christ with Belial? Or what portion does a believer share with an unbeliever? What agreement has the temple of God with idols? For we are the temple of the living God.

The Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of Man
Because liberal theologians like von Harnack and Ritschl emphasized the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man at the heart of liberalism, I begin with Machen’s acknowledgement that such emphases contain some truth: all human beings, as creatures of the one Creator and thus image bearers of God (Gen. 1:26–28), have God as their Father in the sense of creation. As Paul preached (Acts 17:24, 26, 27–29):
“The God who made the world and everything in it . . . gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth. . . . He is actually not far from each one of us, for
‘In him we live and move and have our being’;
as even some of your own poets have said,
‘For we are indeed his offspring.’
Being then God’s offspring . . . .”
Alluding to the creation narrative of Adam (Gen. 2:7) and citing the pagan poets Epimenides of Crete (sixth to fifth century BC) and Aratus (“Phaenomena;” third century BC), the apostle affirms from Scripture and from the general human sense of a divine Creator the universal recognition that all human beings have God as their Father.[1] Consequently, all human beings belong to one brotherhood, in the sense of creation.
Though it balks at the liberal distortion of these truths, the contemporary church should acknowledge “one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all” (Eph. 4:6) and thus the unity of the human race: we are all sons and daughters of God the Father in the sense of creation. Accordingly, cooperative efforts between the peoples of the world, including Christians united with non-Christians in certain endeavors, should resonate with all human beings. These endeavors include efforts to halt genocide; to bring relief to the poor, marginalized, orphans, widows, and victims of natural disasters; to share resources and technology for the betterment of the disadvantaged; to advocate for a culture of life against a culture of death; to encourage biblically sanctioned human rights—these and other similar efforts contribute to the flourishing of human society, and our brothers and sisters by virtue of their origin are recipients of good deeds.
Christians rightly join itself to such efforts, reflecting Machen’s endorsement that Christianity “can accept all that the modern liberal means by the brotherhood of man” (133). At the same time, again following Machen, the church rightly embraces a different “Christian” notion of brotherhood: in the sense of salvation, only those who are rescued from sin by Jesus Christ constitute “the brotherhood of the redeemed” (134).
By affirming these two notions of brotherhood—the one, a universal idea in the sense of creation; the other, an exclusive idea in the sense of redemption—the contemporary church echoes Machen’s intriguing affirmation of both a universality and an exclusivity at the heart of Christianity: First and universally, the church indiscriminately communicates the gospel to all peoples everywhere, in obedience to Christ’s Great Commission (Matt. 28:18–20). Racial and ethnic prejudice, personal distaste for people of a different political persuasion, partiality, and indifference to the plight of the lost cannot be allowed to deter the church from expanding an invitation to the Christian brotherhood to all human beings.
Moreover, Christian ministry engages in good works not only to the “inside brotherhood” but the “outside brotherhood” as well. Paul and Barnabas exemplified such orientation, gladly obeying the exhortation of James, Peter, and John: “they asked us to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do” (Gal. 2:10). Paul continued and insisted on this thrust for all churches: “So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith. (Gal. 6:10). James demanded the same inclination: “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world” (James 1:27).
Second and exclusively, the church acknowledges the severe limitations of such loving service toward people in need. It prioritizes instead its evangelistic efforts that urge sinful people to repent of their sins and trust Jesus Christ alone—exclusively—to save them. As the gospel ignites faith (Rom. 10:17), as the good news brings about regeneration (1 Pet. 1:23–25), as divine grace prompts belief (Acts 18:27), the Christian brotherhood expands, which is the hope of the world.
Separation from Liberal Churches
Machen theologically and strategically advocates for conservative Christians to remain in their churches and protect/reclaim them from liberalism; at the same time, he realistically acknowledges that such a conserving presence and influence may not ultimately succeed. As the saying goes, Machen practiced what he preached: in the 1930s, he led a group of conservative ministers and lay people out of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (PCUSA) and formed the Presbyterian Church of America (PCA), shortly later re-named the Orthodox Presbyterian Church (OPC). Other examples, like the Conservative Baptist movement that emerged from the Northern (now American) Baptist Convention (1943), could be cited.
In our contemporary church context, two similar developments stand out: the Anglican Church of North America and the Methodist Church.
In the early 2000s, conservative members of the Episcopal Church in the United States and the Anglican Church of Canada broke from their Episcopal/Anglican churches and formed the Anglican Church of North America (ACNA) under the auspices of Anglican bishops in Africa and South America. The issue at the heart of their departure was growing concern about the disconcerting pervasiveness and expansion of liberalism—particularly abandonment of biblical authority and truthfulness and departure from historic Christianity—in the existing communions.[2]
In 2022, conservative Methodists broke from the United Methodist Church (UMC) and formed the Global Methodist Church (GMC). In large part, discussion about and actual disaffiliation awaits the 2024 General Conference of the UMC; however, some conservative churches have already joined the GMC. As with the ACNA, the key issue is biblical authority as particularly applied to LGBTQ+ issues.[3]
As Machen prophesied and warned, such departure could cost the fledgling conservative congregations their church property. And it has. The Falls Church, which left the Episcopal Church in the United States in 2006, lost a court battle and had to give up its 250-year-old property.[4] Still, this future of financial/property loss for conservative churches is not set: while decisions about church properties are still a year off in the United Methodist Church, some early signs point to broad (even financial) support for the new GMC.[5]
Departure of members from their local church, and disaffiliation of churches from their denomination, are somber and severe decisions. On the one hand, the unity of the church is broken—a serious matter.
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In the face of the liberal peril, what should evangelicals do? A first step is to “encourage those who are engaging in the intellectual and spiritual struggle” (146–47). The intellectual battle must consist of both articulating and defending Christianity. Against those who focus solely on the propagation aspect, Machen suspects an anti-intellectualism underlying this approach, which he decries. While granting that the proclamation of the gospel might have sufficed historically,[9] given the juncture in which the church currently finds itself, Machen opines that “the slightest avoidance of the defense of the gospel is just sheer unfaithfulness to the Lord” (147).

Part 1: Historical Context and Summary of Machen’s Argument
To give a brief sketch of the historical context in which Machen addressed the church, I focus on two leading proponents of the type of liberalism against which Machen battled—namely, Adolph von Harnack and Albrecht Ritschl.
Adolph von Harnack’s Husk and Kernel
In his What is Christianity?, Adolph von Harnack decried Christianity as an institutionalized religion of dogma, an institutionalization and dogmatization that had corrupted the early church as evidenced by its councils and creedal formulations.[1] In its place, he advocated a religion of the heart: the way of life that Jesus himself had taught. His method in arriving at this liberal articulation of Christianity was that of distinguishing between the “kernel” and the “husk”: the kernel being the permanent, pure essence of Christianity, and the husk being its temporal/ historical, (often) corrupted expression. As von Harnack presented the kernel, “In the combination of these ideas—God the Father, Providence, the position of men as God’s children, the infinite value of the human soul—the whole gospel is expressed” (Lecture 4).
Amalgamating these ideas, von Harnack’s liberalism consisted of three tenets.[2] First, “the kingdom of God and its coming” (Lecture 3). Specifically, “The kingdom of God comes by coming to the individual, by entering into his soul and laying hold of it. True, the kingdom of God is the rule of God; but it is the rule of the holy God in the hearts of individuals. God Himself is the kingdom. It is . . . a question of . . . God and the soul, the soul and its God” (Lecture 3). The flavor of a de-institutionalized and non-dogmatic, subjective Christianity is well pronounced.
Second, “God the Father and the infinite value of the human soul” (Lecture 4). This tenet set the stage for von Harnack’s affirmations of (1) the Fatherhood of God, a principle he affirms is true of all human beings everywhere, not just of Christians in their churches; and, flowing from it, (2) the brotherhood of all humanity, again a principle that he would not restrict to followers of Jesus Christ. Because God the Father unites to himself all human beings as his children, the infinite value of their “ennobled” soul is underscored (Lecture 4).
Third, “the higher righteousness and the commandment of love” (Lecture 4). According to von Harnack, Jesus’s constant denunciation and overturning of the Jewish religion of his day established Christianity as an ethical religion freed of “self-seeking and ritual elements” that could be reduced ultimately “to one root and to one motive—love” (Lecture 4). Such love “must completely fill the soul; it is what remains when the soul dies to itself. In this sense of love is the new life already begun. But it is always the love which serves, and only in this function does it exist and live” (Lecture 4). Accordingly, this third tenet
combines religion and morality. It is a point which must be felt; it is not easy to define. In view of the Beatitudes, it may, perhaps, best be described as humility. Jesus made love and humility one. . . . In Jesus’ view, this humility, which is the love of God of which we are capable . . . is an abiding disposition towards the good, and that out of which everything that is good springs and grows. (Lecture 4)
Christianity as a moralistic religion of humble love is emphasized.
In his summary, von Harnack offers “the three spheres which we have distinguished—the kingdom of God, God as the Father and the infinite value of the human soul, and the higher righteousness showing itself in love—coalesce; for ultimately the kingdom is nothing but the treasure which the soul possesses in the eternal and merciful God” (Lecture 5).
Albrecht Ritschl’s Lived Faith
Similar to von Harnack, in The Christian Doctrine of Justification and Reconciliation,[3] Albrecht Ritschl bemoaned the traditional exposition and understanding of “the Christian faith [as] some imperfect form of theology, that is, some system of ideas of God and humanity” that is far removed from religious self-consciousness—particularly that of the original/apostolic Christian community (3)[4]—and worship of God (210–11).[5] For Ritschl, Christianity is not a doctrinal system, but a lived faith in community.
Like von Harnack’s focus on the kingdom of God as love, Ritschl emphasized “the Christian idea of the Kingdom of God, which [is] the correlate of the conception of God as love, denotes the association of mankind—an association both extensively and intensively the most comprehensive possible—through the reciprocal moral action of its members” (284). Emphasizing “the community,” Ritschl distinguished between the church and the kingdom:
The self-same subject, namely, the community drawn together by Christ, constitutes the Church in so far as its members unite in the same religious worship, and, further, create for this purpose a legal constitution; while, on the other hand, it constitutes the Kingdom of God in so far as the members of the community give themselves to the interchange of action prompted by love. (290)
By the community’s loving action comes about the revelation of the truth that God is love: “The creation of this fellowship of love among men, accordingly, is not only the end [purpose] of the world, but at the same time the completed revelation of God Himself, beyond which none other and none higher can be conceived” (291). The church, the kingdom of God, and love are interwoven as the summum bonum of existence, and this supreme good is known by the people of the community not rationally or dogmatically, but only as they relate to it.
Faith in God’s providence is an essential feature of Ritschl’s agenda:
For that unified view of the world, the ruling idea of which is that of the supramundane [spiritual, heavenly] God, Who as our Father in Christ loves us and unites us in His Kingdom for the realization of that destiny in which we see the final end [purpose] of the world, as well as the corresponding estimate of self, constitutes the realm within which come to be formed all such ideas as that all things and events in the world serve our good, because as children of God we are objects of His special care and help. (617–18)[6]
To members of the community, God promises to his providential care, which they know not theoretically but by personal experience (618).
In summary, both von Harnack and Ritschl proposed a liberal form of Christianity that (1) distanced itself from doctrine and institutionalism and re-envisioned it as living the way of Jesus; (2) conceptualized God as Father of all human beings (in the same way he is Father of Christians); (3) focused on the kingdom of God as his rule in human hearts and as related to the idea of God as love; (4) prioritized human experience over objective norms like Scripture and theology; (5) emphasized the common community or brotherhood of all human beings, whose souls are of infinite value; (6) appealed to the providence of God and his particular care for all human beings for their good; and (7) highlighted moralistic religion and the ethic of love.
This brief sketch of two leading theologians provides some of the context into which Machen stepped and directed his Christianity and Liberalism.
Machen’s Response to von Harnack and Ritschl
Specifically, in his seventh and final chapter, Machen treats the church.[7] While affirming that both Christianity and liberalism are “interested in social institutions” (133), Machen underscores the significant difference between the two religions’ notion of sociality. Reflecting the sentiments of P. T. Forsyth—“the same act which sets us in Christ sets us also in the society of Christ. . . . It puts us into a relation with all saints which we may neglect to our bane but which we cannot destroy”[8]—Machen insists, “When, according to Christian belief, lost souls are saved, the saved ones become united in . . . the brotherhood of the Christian Church” (133). For Machen, this is a far cry from “the liberal doctrine of the ‘brotherhood of man’ . . . that all men everywhere . . . are brothers” (133).
Nuancing his statement, Machen acknowledges that such a doctrine contains some truth: in the sense of creation, all human beings are creatures of the one Creator and are of the same nature. Accordingly, Christianity “can accept all that the modern liberal means by the brotherhood of man” (133). But Machen points to a different “Christian” notion of brotherhood: in the sense of salvation, only those who are rescued from sin by Jesus Christ constitute “the brotherhood of the redeemed” (134).
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