June 3, 1777
Dear Sir,
It seems I must write something about the small-pox, but I know not well what: having had it myself, I cannot judge how I would feel if I were actually exposed to it. I am not a professed advocate for inoculation; but if a person who fears the Lord should tell me, I think I can do it in faith, looking upon it as a salutary expedient, which God in his providence has discovered, and which therefore appears my duty to have recourse to, so that my mind does not hesitate with respect to the lawfulness, nor am I anxious about the event; being satisfied, that whether I live or die, I am in that path in which I can cheerfully expect his blessing; I do not know that I could offer a word by way of dissuasion.
If another person should say, My times are in the Lord’s hands; I am now in health, and am not willing to bring upon myself a disorder, the consequences of which I cannot possibly foresee. If I am to have the small-pox, I believe he is the best judge of the season and manner in which I shall be visited, so as may be most for his glory and my own good; and therefore I choose to wait his appointment, and not to rush upon even the possibility of danger without a call. If the very hairs of my head are numbered, I have no reason to fear that, supposing I receive the smallpox in a natural way, I shall have a single pimple more than he sees expedient; and why should I wish to have one less? Nay, admitting, which however is not always the case, that inoculation might exempt me from some pain and inconvenience, and lessen the apparent danger, might it not likewise, upon that very account, prevent my receiving some of those sweet consolations which I humbly hope my gracious Lord would afford me, if it were his pleasure to call me to a sharp trial? Perhaps the chief design of this trying hour, if it comes, may be to show me more of his wisdom, power, and love, than I have ever yet experienced. If I could devise a means to avoid the trouble, I know not how great a loser I may be in point of grace and comfort. Nor am I afraid of my face; it is now as the Lord, has made it, and it will be so after the small-pox. If it pleases him, I hope it will please me. In short, though I do not censure others, yet, as to myself, inoculation is what I dare not venture upon. If I did venture, and the outcome should not be favorable, I would blame myself for having attempted to take the management out of the Lord’s hands into my own, which I never did yet in other matters, without finding I am no more able than I am worthy to choose for myself. Besides, at the best, inoculation would only secure me from one of the innumerable natural evils the flesh is heir to; I should still be as liable as I am at present to a putrid fever, a bilious colic, an inflammation in the bowels, or in the brain, and a thousand formidable diseases which are hovering round me, and only wait his permission to cut me off in a few days or hours: and therefore I am determined, by his grace, to resign myself to his disposal. Let me fall into the hands of the Lord, (for his mercies are great,), and not into the hands of men.
If a person should talk to me in this strain, most certainly I could not say, Notwithstanding all this, your safest way is to be inoculated.
We preach and hear, and I hope we know something of faith, as enabling us to trust the Lord with our souls. I wish we had all more faith to trust him with our bodies, our health, our provision, and our temporal comforts likewise. The former should seem to require the strongest faith of the two. How strange is it, that when we think we can do the greater, we should be so awkward and unskillful when we aim at the less!
Give my love to your friend. I dare not advise; but if she can quietly return at the usual time, and neither run intentionally into the way of the small-pox, nor run out of the way, but leave it simply with the Lord, I shall not blame her. And if you will mind your praying and preaching, and believe that the Lord can take care of her without any of your contrivances, I shall not blame you. Nay, I shall praise him for you both. My prescription is to read Dr. Watts, Psa. cxxi. every morning before breakfast, and pray it over until the cure is effected. Probatum est.
Hast thou not giv’n thy word,To save my soul from death?And I can trust my LordTo keep my mortal breath.I’ll go and come,Nor fear to die,Till from on highThou call me home.
Adieu!
Pray for Yours, &c.

Articles 28-30: Second London Confession

Jesus Reminds Us
Under the authority of Christ, the church practices two ordinances, baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Chapter 28 of the 2LC says that these two are of “positive, and sovereign institution; appointed by the Lord Jesus the only Law-giver, to be continued in his church to the end of the world.” They are to be administered by those called and qualified by Christ. Both of these are proclamations of the chief aspects of the covenant of redemption in accordance with which Christ was crucified (Romans 6:3; Matthew 26:28; 1 Corinthians 11:25). In his baptism, Jesus foretold that his obedience to the Father would lead him to a bloody death. In the Lord’s Supper, Jesus established a remembrance of his abused body and bleeding wounds just prior to their infliction.
The ordinances of baptism and the Lord’s Supper manifest the Trinitarian character of the covenant community, the church, and the specific trinitarian rhythm that should always be present in the witness of corporate worship. As does the entire revelation of the New Testament, these ordinances set forth a vigorous Christocentric trinitarianism.
These ordinances do not highlight themselves as sources of salvation but point to the historical work of Christ when he bore our sins in his own body on the tree. They are solemn and serious proclamations of the central facts of the gospel always to be enacted in the context of explanation and proclamation. Their power is not primarily existential, but they draw attention to the finality of the historical redemptive event. In doing so, they remind us that all spiritual blessings flow to us from the consummated ransom of Calvary.
The ordinances teach us submission to the governing authority of the revealed word of God. Participation in them calls for a mental and spiritual embracing of their truth. Each directly affirms the worship of God in Spirit and in truth. Only the Spirit qualifies a person to receive them; and only by the word of God does the Spirit change our minds and fit our hearts to bear in our bodies their reality. By the word of God, we learn the truth, and by the Spirit of God we confess the truth that Jesus is Lord and receive the mercies resident in his resurrection from the dead (1 Corinthians 12:3; 1 John 4:2; 5:1;1 Peter 1:22-25; Romans 10:8-13). The article on baptism states, “Those who do actually profess repentance towards God, faith in, and obedience to our Lord Jesus, are the only proper subjects of this ordinance.” Likewise in the Supper of the Lord, (30: 1) it is given to believers “to be observed in the churches unto the end of the world, for the perpetual remembrance, and showing forth the sacrifice in his death confirmation of the faith of believers in all the benefits thereof, their spiritual nourishment and growth in him, their further engagement in, and to, all duties which they owe unto him; and to be a bond and pledge of their communion with him, and with each other.”
There is no room for guess-work in interpreting these symbols. Though they are symbols, they are clearly interpreted symbols. Though they are short dramas, they have a prescribed meaning. God certainly is not opposed to the expressive power of symbol and drama and has designated these two enactments of the victorious passion of Christ as the church’s play.
Every vital aspect of plot, character, conflict, resolution, and denouement makes deep impressions on the entire participating community as the church regularly enacts the drama of redemption. We see man as fallen and under the curse of death with nothing he can do to release himself from its verdict. He is under the threat of eternal death, and moreover is oblivious to the roiling waters of divine vengeance ready to surround him. He comes to himself; we sense the difficulty of an awakened conscience in futile efforts to reverse this just sentence, and we struggle with the helplessness of man. We learn that an eternal covenant has been arranged just fit for this situation, expressive of the eternal wisdom, immutable justice, and invincible love of God. As designated in this covenant, the only person who can possibly rescue these sinners appears. He accomplished the work necessary for salvation through unimaginable cost: a conflict with the unbelief of those he came to save, an extended contest with the arch-fiend, the devil, and, most wrenching, he places himself in the stead of those who should receive from the Father “indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish” (Romans 2:8, 9), a cost that none but that one could pay. The covenant involves the shedding of blood, the beating of his body, an entombment behind a sealed rock. His hard work is rewarded by his Father, he rises from the dead with such abundance of approval that eternal spiritual blessings accrue to all those who trust his work, and his work alone, for their acceptance before God. They are given the promise of eternal life, hope in this life, a renewal of soul to love and reach for holiness, and a sense of final resolution through the kingly return of their suffering servant.
A solemn but lively presentation of each ordinance helps each participant and observer enter the perfection of these ultimately true dramas. They are the dominically warranted proclamations of the real story that do not call for speculation as to their meaning. Their meaning is repetitively pressed on the mind and heart of the community. Their repetition draws us, not to the drama itself or to the elements that bear the story, but to its once-for-all divine enactment historically “in his body on the tree” as interpreted authoritatively in the present day according to divine revelation. The article on the “Lord’s Supper” (30) specifically rejects the idea that it constitutes a “real sacrifice,” but is a “memorial;” it affirms that the people must be given both the bread and the wine, not have the wine withheld from them; it rejects as an unscriptural superstition and as idolatrous the doctrine of transubstantiation, which in addition is repugnant “even to common sense and reason.” Scripture sometimes calls the elements of bread and wine by the “things they represent,” the broken body of Christ and his shed blood.
These ordinances do not operate as mere appendages to corporate worship, stuck on or pressed in with clumsiness or without connection to the entire experience, but reflect the essence of body life. They are so vital in expressing the particular event that has given the church existence, that they must constitute, along with the appropriate concentration on the word, the substance of the church’s confessional witness in worship whenever they are celebrated. They embody the singularity and absoluteness of the truth, “There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call—one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all” (Ephesians 4:4-6).
Baptism
Jesus commanded his disciples immediately before his ascension, “As you go make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28: 19). The confession states, “The outward element to be used in this ordinance is water, wherein the party is to be baptized, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” It continues by affirming, “Immersion, or dipping of the person in water, is necessary to the due administration of this ordinance.” (29: 3, 4).
They Obeyed His Command According to his instructions: Exactly according to his word, we find the disciples at Pentecost responding, “So those who received his word were baptized” which consisted of “everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself” (Acts 2:39, 41). We find the same order true in Samaria, “But when they believed Philip as he preached good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized, both men and women” (Acts 8:12). When the gospel came with power to the house of Cornelius through the preaching of Peter, in the presence of the “believers from among the circumcised,” Peter declared, “Can anyone withhold water for baptizing these people, who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” On that basis, therefore, “He commanded them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ” (Acts 10:47, 48). When the Philippian jailer heard the message, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household,” he took Paul to his house where Paul and Silas “spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house” (Acts 16:31, 32). The promise of salvation through faith was to him and to his household, so they too must hear the word in order to believe. They did and “he was baptized at once, he and all his family.” The last part of verse 34 should read, “And he rejoiced, all of his house having believed in God.” The whole household was instructed in the word, the whole household believed, and the whole household was baptized.
Baptism is Trinitarian. In the baptism of Jesus (Matthew 4:13-17), we see the clearly trinitarian arrangement of the ordinance. The Son of God is there, submitting to all righteousness; the voice of the Father is there proclaiming the belovedness and the eternal sonship of the Son; and the Holy Spirit is there descending as a dove showing that, in this mysterious incarnation, the Son of God himself must indeed fulfill all righteousness as a man who “through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God” (Hebrews 9:14).
Immediately after this initiatory event and the manifestation of the trinitarian nature of this mission, the continuing element of the Spirit’s involvement becomes clear. Jesus was “full of the Spirit” and was led, really driven, by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil. This began the tests in which Jesus fulfilled all righteousness that we might be justified and adopted.
For us, baptism reflects the work of the Spirit both in fitting us for union with Christ by regeneration and empowering us for “newness of life,” that is, sanctification. He unites us with the Lord Jesus in his perfect work of salvation, and testifies to our place as a member in the body of Christ, the church. “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many are one body, so it is with Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body . . . and all were made to drink of one Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:12, 13). This is one reason that baptism is so closely tied to church membership. All of the “members of the body” bear witness that they too were “made to drink of one Spirit,” that is, have been subject to the saving operations of the Spirit, and were placed by the Spirit, not only into the universal church composed of all the elect of all ages, but into this local congregation. There, by the gifting of the Spirit, we work “for the common good” (1 Corinthians 12:7).
Baptism also draws attention to the powerful operation of the Father in raising Christ from the dead –“having been buried with him  in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead” (Colossians 2:12).  Again, Paul inserts the operation of the Father into the meaning of baptism in writing, “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4). Baptism signifies that Christ is the “firstborn among many brothers,” and as we have followed him in his death so we are released from “bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” We are sons of God through faith in him and the Father has received us as his children.
When Paul explained the meaning of our baptism (“as many of you as were baptized into Christ”) as the expression of our having “put on Christ” (Galatians 3:27), he gave a pungent summary of the trinitarian foundation of salvation. Under the initiatory authority of the Father in the eternal covenant of grace, he sent the Son. By this work of redemption, the Father then sent the Spirit. “But when the fullness of time had come,” that is, the time established in eternity when the Father gave to the Son a people to save (John 17: 3, 4), “God sent forth his Son,” that is, at the precise moment that the “power of the Most High” (Luke 1:35) overshadowed Mary, “born of woman,” for in addition to the overshadowing of the Most High the Holy Spirit had come upon her so that child was both Son of God and son of Mary born of her flesh, “born under the law,” that is, truly born as a Jew under ceremonial law and as the Son of Man under the moral law, “to redeem those who were under the law,” because the law held us captive to its true moral demand of death to the transgressor, “so that we might receive adoption as sons” for when the legal barriers are removed by his suffering he “is not ashamed to call [us] his brothers” (Hebrews 2:12). “And because you are sons,” So Paul continued, “God” that is, God the Father according to the terms of the covenant and on the basis of the reconciling work of Christ, “has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba Father!’” This new familial status means “you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God” (Galatians 4:4-7). All of this meaning is invested in the putting on of Christ in the public testimony of baptism. The triune God is on our side, for us in mercy. The entire congregation, before whom this is done, remembers, confesses, testifies to the same understanding, and worships.
Baptism points to a finished work. One’s baptism signifies that he is bearing witness to the finished work of Christ and has taken to himself all that is implied in having been bought with a price. He confesses, as it were, “I do know that my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within me, whom I have from God. I am not my own, for I was bought with a price. So henceforth, this body that has been buried and has risen again with Christ will be put to the service of the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 6:19, 20). To “put on Christ,” therefore, as a voluntary act of obedience to the command of Christ is to reflect the work of Christ immediately, for when we are baptized we are “baptized into his death” (Romans 6:3). The confession affirms that to the baptized person, this ordinance is “a sign of his fellowship with him, in his death, and resurrection; of his being engrafted into him; of remission of sins; and of his giving up unto God through Jesus Christ, to live and walk in newness of Life.”
Christ’s death is the event that embodies all things that lead the sinner from death to eternal life. It sets in motion the powers brought to bear on the sinner to carry him from under the curse to the glorified state in heaven. From our being foreknown in Christ, to our being called, justified, sanctified, glorified, and appearing in his image before all the citizens of heaven, all flows in a never-ending stream from his death. “He who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not also, along with him, freely give us all things” (Romans 8:32). Baptism symbolizes that, testifies for the person and the church that vital truth, presses the historical reality on the conscience, and leads the church, not to rely on the symbol, but to confess more deeply their dependence on the Savior in his once-for-all work (Hebrews 7:26-28).
Baptism denotes identification with Christ’s suffering. Though baptism does not activate God’s saving work but symbolizes its content, that does not mean that nothing existential is at stake at all when a person submits to the ordinance. When disciples asked about their place in his kingdom, Jesus pointed to the fact that only through a baptism in blood and the emulation of it in the life of the disciples would the kingdom be established. “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized? . . . The baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized” (Mark 10:38, 39). Christ’s obedience to this baptism of ransom blood would seal and mature his unbroken course of righteousness to the Father’s will (Matthew 3:15 – “Thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness”). In this baptism, he announced that, because of this perfected righteousness (Hebrews 5: 8, 9), after a baptism in blood (Mark 10:38-45), he would be raised from the dead.
Those elements of redemptive truth, present when Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist, define for us what should be present both in our minds and in the accompanying words during the practice of this ordinance. By entering into John’s baptism, he affirmed John’s message about Jesus himself and also the reality of sin in the human family and the need for repentance. Though he was sinless, he took on himself the debt of sinners. As we are baptized in water as he was, so we are committed to take up the cross, follow him, and be willing to be baptized in blood as he was. Having been brought to faith, we testify publicly that Christ’s life, death, and life-again is ours. Again, to this Paul pointed when he wrote the Galatian churches, “for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith. For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Galatians 3: 26, 27). In baptism, the person announces that he has counted “all things as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord and, in order that I may know the power of his resurrection, I now show my commitment to share in his sufferings and become like him in his death” (cf. Philippians 3:8, 10).
It is not a time for light banter or humorous observation but a time for being committed to the resurrection of the righteous through dying the death of the righteous. It denotes that Jesus, being set apart by the Father for such a death, also consecrated himself for this death, that those given to him by the Father would be forgiven of sin and be granted eternal life by His righteousness. Our voluntary submission to this ordinance, following upon personal repentance and faith, therefore, means that we have submitted to the biblical principle that the life dependent on his death comes “that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised” (2 Corinthians 5:13). In his death, we died; in his resurrection, we live. Our true life, moreover, is but for a commitment of willingness to die in the cause of the Christ who bought us with his precious blood.
The Lord’s Supper (Paragraph 30)
The gospel writer Luke (22:19) recorded, “And he took the bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave to them saying, ‘This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, ‘This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.’” We find that the first church “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayers” (Acts 2: 42). This ordinance was to be practiced by the whole church as a matter of deep solemnity and in demonstration of gospel unity. This ordinance was given by Christ for a “perpetual remembrance, and shewing forth the sacrifice of his death, confirmation of the faith of believers in all the benefits thereof.” Worshipful engagement in the Supper would provide “spiritual nourishment and growth in him,” and serve to remind them of the covenantal bond given them in Christ and likewise the spiritual communion of believers with each other (1).
The Manner and Mental Attitude in Partaking is Important: To reinforce that fact, Paul gave a sober warning to the Corinthian church about her attitude and conduct in the time of corporate worship when partaking of the memorial meal: “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself” (1 Corinthians 11:26-29). Solemn warning, indeed, and intended to discourage any reception of the Supper not permeated with both Spirit and truth.
The confession, therefore, warns that “all ignorant and ungodly persons, as they ae unfit to enjoy communion with Christ; so are they unworthy of the Lord’s Table.” The descriptive words, “ignorant and ungodly,” refers to those who are unconverted. They do not have a saving knowledge of Christ and thus are devoid of the Spirit of God and any affection for godly living. Consistently in the life of the established church these Baptists had seen the constant participation in communion of merely nominal Christians, baptized in infancy and required to commune. This practice drove unconverted persons into “great sin against him” while they remained unconverted. As such, they received the elements of bread and wine “unworthily and are guilty of the body and blood of the Lord” (8).
As an established perpetual element of corporate worship, the memorial should be approached with understanding. There must be no extortion of the heart in exalting the material of the Supper beyond biblical warrant. At the same time, it must not be demoted from its ordained place to effect sanctifying meditation on the redemptive work of the cross.
Symbols in Perpetuity – In the text in Matthew 26:26-29, Jesus used the words “Take, eat; this is my body.” Also with the cup he said, “Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” Some traditions receive these words as indicating that there is a perfect identity between the elements partaken and the body and blood of Christ. Roman Catholic theology asserts that transubstantiation takes place. The elements, maintaining all the appearance, feel, and taste of bread or wine actually become the real flesh of Christ and the true blood of Christ. This miracle of “transubstantiation” occurs at the use of the appropriate form by the priest and those partaking receive grace ex opera operato, that is, in the very act of taking, unless the recipient has committed mortal sin. Lutheran liturgy upholds a doctrine of “real presence” but not transubstantiation. Because of Christ’s omnipresence, and through the words spoken, Christ’s body and blood, united in one person with his deity, actually are present in the elements of the Supper, so they believe.
Although Zwingi and Calvin differed in some matters of expression, they agreed in this, “Hence, any man is deceived who thinks anything more is conferred upon him through the sacraments than what is offered by God’s Word and received by him in true faith.”[2] Zwingli wrote of eating both spiritually and sacramentally. To eat spiritually was to receive the work of Christ by faith in that God has promised forgiveness through the death and resurrection of his Son to those who receive that work as the only means by which sinners can be reconciled. To eat sacramentally occurs when “you join with your brethren in partaking of the bread and wine which are the tokens of the body of Christ. . . . You do inwardly that which you represent outwardly.” [3]
As an expression of disgust, some have characterized the Zwinglian view as that of “bare symbol.” If one means by bare, that no importance for spiritual growth and deepened worship of Christ is intended by it, then the word “bare” is a complete caricature. If one means that the elements add nothing to the reconciling transaction that was accomplished in time and space in the body of Christ on the cross, then the word “bare” is a truly evangelical affirmation. The bread and wine are symbols, naked and unadorned, and do nothing but point, but point with sober poignancy, to the place where all was done.
The biblical narrative supports the idea that this is the use of a symbol by Jesus. Jesus often used the verb of being to speak of a symbol that depicted some aspect of his redemptive work. “I am the door of the sheep” (John 10:7). John, in fact, called this manner of teaching a “figure of speech” or a “similitude” (10:6) “I am the true vine” (John 15:1). At Passover, Jews would say, “This is the bread of affliction,” meaning it symbolizes the affliction they had endured in Egypt. Jesus’ words, therefore, recalled this emblematic power already present in the Passover meal.
The historical reality is that Jesus stood before them and had not yet had his body broken nor his blood shed. He called the wine (“this is”) the “blood of the covenant which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” That blood had not yet been shed, for, in accord with the covenant, it would be shed, poured out, but once to accomplish forgiveness. The book of Hebrews gives clarity that the reality of that historical event cannot be duplicated; in fact, it need not be duplicated for in completing the covenantal provisions it was sufficient once and for all (Hebrews 7:27; 9:12, 15, 24-28; 10:9, 10, 14, 18; 13:20, 21).
The symbols are to remind us of the perfect satisfaction provided by Christ in his once-for-all death on the cross. They do not draw attention to themselves as having any efficacy, but to the single event in which reconciliation occurred. He poured out his blood for many and in that death he brought to justification the many for whom he died: “By his knowledge my righteous servant shall justify many, for he shall bear their iniquities . . . He poured out his soul unto death . . . He bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:11,12).
If the disciples partook of his actual body, as yet unbroken and unbruised, did they partake of his mortal, unresurrected, unglorified body, or did they partake of the body that did not yet exist? Do we partake of the same body that they did, if in fact we take his literal body? Do we partake of the body as it was before his resurrection or after his resurrection? Or does Christ still have both a mortal body capable of death and a glorified body incapable of death? Or is this more likely symbolic language that draws our adoration to the great redemptive transaction on Calvary? For that purpose, he took on a body that he might die in our nature to give eternal life to our nature: “Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired, but a body you have prepared for me; . . . I have come to do your will, O God. . . . And by that will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (Hebrews 10:5-10). The body that was offered once satisfied forever for the forgiveness of sins and the sanctification of the believer. That body was glorified in the resurrection, and never will be offered again.
Salvation comes not through any kind of intrinsic efficacy in the material elements of bread and wine themselves; rather it resides in the satisfaction of divine wrath justly manifested in time and space on one of our race who could lawfully, ontologically, and morally stand in as our substitute. Jesus was morally qualified to suffer vicariously for he had no transgression of the law as his own for which he must die. He was truly man and stood as our covenant head. He had a human body, a human mind, a human spirit all of which must endure fully the divine wrath due his people. This he did during his hours on the cross and finished the suffering. The confession insisted, “In this ordinance Christ is not offered up to his Father, nor any real sacrifice made at all, for remission of sin for the quick or dead; but only a memorial of that one offering up of himself, by himself, upon the cross, once for all” (2). No more will his blood be shed nor his body broken. His life was poured out with his blood on the cross and there is no occasion in which the blood of the covenant must be poured out again.
To the internalization by faith of this historic work the Lord’s Supper calls us. The Confession says, “Worthy receivers, outwardly partaking of the visible elements in this ordinance, do then also inwardly by faith, really and indeed, yet not carnally, and corporally, but spiritually receive, and feed upon Christ crucified & all the benefits of his death.” This does not mean that his body has spiritual presence in and of itself; that would be contradictory to the nature of the body. “Behold my hands and my feet, that it I myself. Handle me and see, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see I have” (Luke 24: 39). It means that we contemplate with our whole mind and affections the claim that such a death has on us and that we long for the continued transforming power of the gospel in our lives. The confession confirms this in continuing “The body and blood of Christ, being then not corporally, or carnally, but spiritually present to the faith of Believers, in that ordinance, as the elements themselves are to their outward senses” (30: 7). By faith in the completed work of Christ, the emblematic presentation of that once-for-all substitution for our sake, gives spiritual conviction and energy to the believer. By Jesus’ omnipresence and by his perpetual intercession, the believer has a heightened sense at the time of the Supper that “we have an advocate before the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous one” (1 John 2:1).
It is a memorial. It is a “perpetual remembrance and shewing forth the sacrifice in his death” (30: 1).The passages in Luke 22 and in 1 Corinthians 11 point to the reality that, in partaking of the Lord’s Supper, we remember what he did. Luke 22:19 recorded the words, “Do this in remembrance of me” after the giving of the bread. In 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, Paul gives a straightforward presentation in which he records Jesus using the words of remembrance after both the bread and the wine. After breaking the bread, Jesus said, “This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” When he took the cup he said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”
As they were taking the Passover, Jesus gave a simplified partaking of elements. The Passover had been predictive and prospective. Their partaking of the lamb was to serve as a promise of redemption. The yearly celebration reminded them of the promise, that God would provide a lamb in the future who would take away the sins, not of the Jews only, but of the world. As Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper, he presented it as a memorial. Its future celebrations would look to that which already was accomplished and was retrospective of the past work of Christ. This symbolic drama was to be surveyed by the heart in calling to mind the greatness of the sacrifice. Each recipient can say with Isaac Watts, “When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride.”
The element of the prospective was reinserted as we now look to the coming-again of the Lord in his glorified body. As the supper points to faith in that which has been done in his body, so it points to hope in that which will be done in our body: “But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself” (Philippians 3:20, 21). “Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him” (Hebrews 9:28).
We do not look to the elements of which we partake at that moment as having redemptive significance in themselves, but only as they point us to the historic, time-space sacrifice of Christ. The symbols call us to look to Christ himself, presently interceding for us on the basis of the blood he shed at Calvary. In remembering, the participants actively press their minds to recall the biblical presentation of the historic event of redemption. This memorial presents an objective assurance that, once for all, Christ endured the portion of wrath due to them, so that “in him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sin” (Ephesians 1:7).
This event in the worship of the church is a time of proclamation of the gospel, for “we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” It is a time of preaching the gospel to our own souls for we partake of bread and wine in active remembrance of Jesus as the only redeemer. We do this in a sense of worship, with reverence, and repentant humility for this must be taken in a worthy manner lest we betray a heart that yet has not felt the gravity of Christ’s sacrifice and we remain, not redeemed, but “guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord.” It is, therefore, a time of sober examination, calling for deep discernment of the reason that Christ was given a body, a necessary sufferer in our stead. It is not a time for the careless or curious, the one merely fascinated by the quaintness of the process, but for the body of believers to “come together” to worship the one who underwent judgment for us.

[1] Parts of this article come from a chapter in an upcoming book  published by Founders Press entitled Praise is His Gracious Choice.
[2] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles, 2 vols (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1960, 2006) 2:1290.
[3] Huldreich Zwingli, “An Exposition of the Faith,” in Zwingli and Bullinger, trans. G. W. Bromiley (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1953), 259.

Tweet Share

Introduction
“I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.”
Affirmation after affirmation rolls off the tongue in the triumphant crescendo of syllables that concludes the Apostles’ Creed. In Protestant printings of this text, a footnote or parenthetical statement jarringly interjects to assure readers that “catholic” doesn’t actually mean “Catholic,” but in fact carries an earlier meaning of the adjective: “universal.” In light of the earnest impulse to preclude possible misunderstanding of the term “catholic,” it is interesting that the following phrase “the communion of saints” then passes without prompting a similar rush to explanation. Yet doesn’t “the communion of saints” also deserve a moment’s reflection on its meaning? What should one believe when professing this kind of conviction, and what difference does it make?
Background of “On the Communion of Saints” in the Second London Baptist Confession
The First London Baptist Confession of Faith (1644), Article 34, simply states that “all men” ought to come into the church “to have communion here with the Saints.” The confession does not further develop the concept of this communion nor specify the identity of these “saints,” other than perhaps paralleling “saints” with “believers” in Article 31.[1]
In contrast, within the Second London Baptist Confession of Faith (1689) appear the two paragraphs of Chapter 27, titled “On the Communion of Saints.”[2] The text weaves together elements from both the Westminster Confession (1647)[3] and the Savoy Declaration (1658)[4] treatments of the topic, for the most part accepting Savoy Declaration edits but retrieving from the Westminster Confession a closing defense of the concept of private property.
A literary composite, “On the Communion of Saints” in the Second London Baptist Confession of Faith adheres closely to its sources. That said, appropriation of that source material into a Baptist context frees the text from its prior denominational commitments. For Baptists, the value of the Confession’s treatment of the communion of saints lies in the degree to which it reflects the theology of the Bible.
Biblical Theology within the Chapter
Scripture passages cited in paragraph 1 include some of the biblical foundations of the doctrine of union with Christ, in that Christ is the head of his body, the church. The Spirit works upon those who are within the body, whose old selves have experienced crucifixion and are now dead. These renewed people receive Christ’s grace and experience fellowship with each other, as well as with God the Father and the Son. This fellowship among the “saints” is dynamic, involving encouragement, admonishment, and sacrifice for each other’s sake.
Paragraph 2 builds upon themes from Paragraph 1, explicitly stating what might have otherwise remained implicit. For example, the Confession first cites the exhortation in the book of Hebrews to meet together for mutual edification: a surprisingly fresh and convicting word from the Lord for the present day. This edifying relationship begins in the family and extends to the church, exemplified in Paul’s well-known “body parts” analogy in 1 Corinthians 12:14-27. As mentioned previously, it seems that the framers of the Confession felt burdened to specify that the generosity one exhibits toward others flows from retaining personal property rights rather than surrendering them to the community. Whatever prevailing conditions may have prompted emphasis on this point in 17th century England, contemporary readers would do well to remember that the question at hand was whether to hand over one’s property to the community of faith, not to civil government.
Observations on the Chapter
Regarding both paragraphs of Chapter 27 taken together, at least three observations seem appropriate. First, the Chapter is rather short. This brevity could lead to a misperception that its content is perfunctory: confessionally necessary perhaps, but not of primary concern. Yet since the Chapter clearly touches upon ecclesiology—the doctrine of the church—, lack of length need not signal insignificance. In fact, since the theological currents of our contemporary era seem to throw the nature of the church into open question, it would be especially helpful for present-day Christians to pay attention to Chapter 27.
Second, the scriptural basis of the Chapter does not directly draw from the Old Testament. In truth, limited interaction with the Old Testament is characteristic not only of the rest of the Confession but also of most Christian statements of faith. Yet since no domain of Christian thinking should suffer lack of influence from the full counsel of God, the present study aspires to thrust the roots of the Confession’s ecclesiology even deeper into biblical revelation than the Confession roots itself.
Third, the Chapter characterizes what the “communion of saints” should be like without defining either “communion” or “saints.” If all believers were to share a common understanding of these terms, such definitions would be unnecessary. However, it would be difficult to argue that agreement on the meaning of the “communion of saints” prevails even within single churches, let alone broadly among all Christians. So let’s examine what we can learn from Scripture about the “communion of saints.”
Saints
The expression “the communion of saints” does not appear in the Bible, though the main terms koinonia (fellowship, or “communion”) and hagios = (holy, or “saint” when used as a noun) each appear frequently in the New Testament.[5] Since we are interested in the “communion” that “saints” experience, it is helpful at the outset to identify these “saints.”
First, we should note that New Testament “saints” are not an especially holy caste, set apart from other believers. Instead, “saint” appears to refer to believers generally, as in Romans 1:7: “To all those in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” “Saint” can refer to both the living and the dead. As for deceased saints, there is no support in the Bible for church traditions that following their deaths, saints begin functioning as otherworldly mediators standing between humanity and God, whose intercession adds merit to the prayers of believers who are still living.
The normal grammatical gender of “saint” in New Testament Greek is masculine, but this is a matter of grammar and not sex. Enoch exclaims in Jude 14, “Behold, the Lord comes with ten thousands of his holy ones.” Here the “holy ones” word (which is the “saints” word) is feminine, but only because “ten thousands” is without exception grammatically feminine in Biblical Greek. In the one Scripture passage in which the reader might suspect that there is a male-specific use of “saint,” Acts 9:41, the “saints” and the “widows” are indeed two distinct groups. However, this is only because these widows had been the specific group of women inside a house in verse 39, whom Peter in verse 40 then sent outside with everyone else.
At first glance it might be tempting to view the New Testament’s use of “saint” to refer to all male and female believers as a desacralization of the word, a pulling down of a lofty term to a common level, a divesting of special meaning. In other words, if everyone in the church is a “saint,” then the word seems to lose its uniqueness and become merely a synonym for a Christian brother or sister. However, Old Testament use of a related term suggests that there may actually be a theological motive behind New Testament authors choosing to call believers “saints.”
In Leviticus 11:44–45, all Israelites received the command to be holy (qadosh), because God himself is holy.[6] However, there are only three Old Testament passages that go on to use that Hebrew “holiness” term for people as a noun, two of which are in the Psalms: Psalm 16:3, “As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones, in whom is all my delight,” and Psalm 34:9, “Oh, fear the Lord, you his saints, for those who fear him have no lack!” Yet there seems to be a certain hesitation to apply the adjective that describes God’s very nature to his people, for other “saint” passages in the Psalms use a word communicating devotion (ḥasid) rather than holiness.
Then in the apocalyptic visions of the book of Daniel appears the only other use of qadosh as a noun for people, and that Hebrew word in Daniel 8:24 follows six rapid-fire appearances of the Aramaic cognate qadish in only five verses in Daniel 7. These “saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever, forever and ever” (Daniel 7:18). Tracing this eternal kingdom backward in time, in Daniel’s vision this is the kingdom already given to the one “like a son of man” who came “with the clouds of heaven” and was presented before the Ancient of Days, seated on his heavenly throne (Daniel 7:13). Further back in the book of Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar’s post-madness confession revealed that this everlasting kingdom belongs to the Most High God (Daniel 4:3, 34).
Therefore, moving forward again through the logic of Daniel 7, the Most High God gives his kingdom to the one “like a son of man,” who receives the worship of all peoples (Daniel 7:14). Then the “saints of the Most High” receive the kingdom, apparently after an eschatological judgment (Daniel 7:27). However, this “receiving” of the kingdom is not a transfer of lordship, because the Most High still receives worship at the end of the vision. These “saints” do not somehow meld with the Most High to become one being with him (nor with the one “like a son of man”), nor do they usurp the Most High’s rule. Even so, there is some kind of significant sharing of the Most High’s kingdom, without fine delineation of everything that sharing entails.
At the time of the writing of Daniel 7, its visionary events were in the far future. However, in the Gospels, Jesus (with a roundabout, third person manner of speaking) explicitly identifies himself as the Son of Man, and furthermore as one who comes on “the clouds of heaven” in Mark 13:26 (also Matthew 24:30) and Mark 14:62 (also Matthew 26:64). Additionally, John’s vision in Revelation 1:7 more directly states that Jesus “is coming with the clouds.” From a biblical theology standpoint, the “Son of Man” in the New Testament is the one “like a son of man,” and likewise the “saints” in the New Testament correspond to the “saints” in Daniel 7.
Keeping these Old Testament theological roots in mind, it is possible that the New Testament practice of referring to all believers as “saints” conveys both present and future implications for the church. As for the present, by virtue of being categorically called holy as “saints,” through Christ, believers are holy in a way that ancient Israel was not. As for the future, the “saints” as God’s holy people will indeed inherit the kingdom of God. In tension with this blessed hope, then, are the New Testament’s warnings about those who will not in fact inherit the kingdom of God (1 Corinthians 6:9–10, 15:50; Galatians 5:19–21). Simply put, they are not among the saints.
Communion
Koinonia refers to an exceedingly close relationship characterized by action in a spirit of unity, frequently entailing partnership in activities and mutual sharing. This strong mutuality of koinonia clarifies the interpretation of Philemon 6, which the ESV renders “And I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective for the full knowledge of every good thing that is in us for the sake of Christ.” Contrary to the plain English reading of the sentence, Paul does not express a general wish that Philemon’s evangelistic efforts (Philemon’s “sharing” of his faith) may become more effective. Instead, the “sharing” here is koinonia. Paul prays that Philemon will actively live out his faith in tight connection with Paul and other Christians. This “sharing” fellowship newly includes the runaway slave Onesimus, whom Paul calls a “beloved brother” in Philemon 16. No wonder that the former master and slave relationship had to change drastically, for Philemon and Onesimus should henceforth live in koinonia!
Interestingly, while mental images that spring from the English word “fellowship” typically consist of people warmly interacting with each other in the same place, the bond of believers in the physically dispersed body of Christ could generate significant acts of partnership and sharing across long distances. For example, Romans 15:26 mentions that believers in Macedonia and Achaia “have been pleased to make some contribution for the poor among the saints at Jerusalem,” in which the “contribution” is itself koinonia.[7] Among the members of these churches in Greece there need not have been a single personal connection to Jerusalem, but they were in fellowship with the church in Jerusalem nonetheless.
Koinonia was such a lived reality for the early church that New Testament authors freely used this term to describe believers’ relationship with God. Christians enjoyed koinonia with God (1 John 1:6), the Father and the Son (1 John 1:3), the Son (1 Corinthians 1:9, 10:16; Philippians 3:10), and the Spirit (2 Corinthians 13:14, Philippians 2:1). If believers experience such comprehensive fellowship with every member of the triune Godhead and with each other, it is little wonder that Paul would express thankfulness for “koinonia in the gospel” with fellow believers (Philippians 1:5).
With this biblical sense of the deep mutual interconnectedness of koinonia in mind, it is understandable that the framers of the Second London Baptist Confession would want to affirm in paragraph 1 that union with Christ does not entail merging with him into a shared state of personhood, which would unavoidably entail believers’ participation in deity along with Christ the God-man. This same distinction between the “saints” and God pertains in Daniel 7, although describing the God-human relationship with the special term koinonia would need to wait for New Testament revelation.
The Communion of Saints for Today
The “communion of saints” is a doctrine in need of recovery in the contemporary church. In Western cultural settings, the church must continually contend with fragmentation incited by exaggerated individualism. Rugged individualists have little interest in continual engagement with other saints to “promote their mutual good” by extending their sharing “to the whole household of faith” (using terms from the Confession). After all, the depth of relationship entailed by the communion of saints is uncomfortably demanding of time and other resources. As for discomfort, the isolated saint may simply think it unreasonable to try to have communion with some other saint when he or she doesn’t even like that person.
Unfortunately, recovery of the “communion of saints” in the contemporary church requires more than a cultural shift among the saints in general. The leadership and management structure of most churches itself resists the full engagement of every church member in the life of Christ’s body. Generally speaking, ministers do ministry, and congregants receive ministry, whatever system of church polity is in place. If congregations were to shift toward a more active posture of ministry engagement for all without changing expectations of what leaders do accordingly, the leaders would rapidly burn themselves out in the attempt to lead in the same programmatic ways they had before.
In addition, a relatively new enemy of the communion of saints is many churches’ passivity or even abandonment of ministry in an age of virtualization. The model of “body life” encapsulated in the concept of the communion of saints requires a high degree of investment of one’s self in others as a gathered, functioning community. Real fellowship entails sacrifice, relational vulnerability, and thus toleration and management of risk. Regrettably, many churches essentially decline to take risks of any kind, and their primary “ministry” has become narrating briefing slides to miniature, grainy images of half-dressed saints against virtual backgrounds. At best, whatever unfolds on the screen before them commands a fraction of their attention as they crouch over electronic devices in isolation.
All told, the lack of spiritual vitality in many contemporary churches is depressingly palpable. Turning around this lamentable situation is certainly not a matter of simply placing greater emphasis on certain theological themes, even the often professed but increasingly seldom believed doctrine of the “communion of saints.” In contrast, what the church needs to do is to repent and believe the gospel. This is because the gospel brings about not a mere change of attitude, but a re-creation, a new creation.
In the new covenant community, all of the redeemed are saints, and all receive the commission to serve. Obedience to Jesus’s commands takes place most naturally through full participation in the body of Christ and the sharing of its burdens, not merely knowing the “right answers” to theological questions. Indeed, “If we say we have fellowship with him (God) while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.” (1 John 1:6–7) May the contemporary church rediscover the thoroughgoing communion that saints are to enjoy with each other and with God, and may the resulting revolution of sacred love within the body of Christ fuel the revival we pray that the Spirit would begin in us.

[1] W. J. McGlothlin, Baptist Confessions of Faith (Philadelphia: American Baptist Publication Society, 1911), 183–184.
[2] Ibid., 268–269.
[3] Philip Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom, with a History and Critical Notes, Vol. 3: The Evangelical Protestant Creeds, with Translations, 4th rev. ed. (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1919), 659–660.
[4] Williston Walker, The Creeds and Platforms of Congregationalism (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1893), 396–397.
[5] The only biblical passage in which these two words appear close together is the final verse of 2 Corinthians as Paul writes “may . . . the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”
[6] Peter later cites this passage and applies the same logic to Christians in 1 Peter 1:14–16; their conduct should reflect God’s holiness.
[7] See the similar use of koinonia in the sense of “contribution” in 2 Corinthians 8:4 and 9:13.

Tweet Share