The kingdom of God will not be advanced by the sword. Peter wanted to pick up the sword in the Garden of Gethsemane. “We’re not going to build the kingdom that way,” said Jesus. You cannot point me to a single verse in the New Testament—there is not the slightest whiff in the New Testament—that we advance the kingdom of God by the sword. Isaac Backus again: “Our glorious Head [Jesus] made no use of secular force in the first setting up of the gospel church.” Jesus and the apostles didn’t need the sword to set up churches, which are the pathway to true righteousness and justice and love of neighbor.  Do we? 

My ostensible purpose for standing here is to present a defense for religious liberty. I’ve been invited as the Baptist after all. And if you’ve never attended a Baptist church, you should know that religious liberty is really the only thing we try to teach our kids in their Sunday school classes. Presbyterians teach their kids about the Bible’s glorious covenants. Lutherans teach their kids about the law and the gospel. Methodists are talking about sanctification and piety. Baptists, well, we got religious liberty.
Of course, a growing number of Christians wonder if religious liberty is really the best doctrine to be teaching in this morally chaotic and, frankly, neo-pagan age. In fact, couldn’t it be that this Baptist emphasis really is just classical liberalism talking, because we’ve been co-opted, and that it’s led to the rampant individualism and anti-authority-ism, that’s participated in creating our present moral chaos? Honestly, those are good questions to ask. I think in some cases, I assume the answers are “yes.”
For our purposes here, I don’t want to merely think through the matter as a theologian or theoretician. Instead, I want to place the conversation inside a pastoral framework. Meaning, let’s think about real people, at this moment in history, and put our theology into the service of that.
Recently, I had breakfast with a friend whose 18-year-old nephew—let me call him “Sam”—committed suicide a few months back. Sam, who struggled with mental health issues, lost his way. Yet my friend also talked about the larger world of TikTok, and deconstruction, and questions about gender, and a whole culture telling Sam he was free to be whoever he wanted to be. Sam lacked the structures, the moorings, the fixed points of moral evaluation, to answer the question, “Who am I?” He couldn’t get a grip. So he took his life.
It should make you angry—angry at all those cultural forces which have set themselves to destroying the good, the true, the beautiful, undermining and destroying 18-year-olds like Sam. Others, you know, turn to drugs, or shopping, or body cult, or a hundred other distractions. There’s nothing to live for.
My friend’s story hit home because my nephew is 19 and is trying to find his way. His sister is 17. My three older daughters are 16, 15, and 13. All of them have grown up with weekly church attendance, family worship, parental discipleship. But they’re facing the same world as Sam.
What do my daughters, and my niece and nephew, as they leave homes which have been shaped by the truths of Christianity, need? Most of all, they need Jesus. Both for the sake of this life and the next, they need Jesus. And so my wife and I pray and pray and pray, and then we’ll wait.
But let me refine the question: what do these teenagers need and not need from societies larger structures, like church and state, so that they might know Jesus? I’m setting the conversation up this way, because I think it puts us in the right framework. Christians should approach every action, structure, and decision in life asking the question, how will this help me and my fellow Christians, and the world, better know Jesus? It should be our driving question in everything. Sam’s story, tragically, is over. But there are millions more Sams launching into the world. So what do my niece and nephew and my teenage daughters need and not need? Seven things.
1. They don’t need to be treated like children any longer, but like adults, and a state which seeks to implement the first table of the law treats them like children.
The Magisterial Reformers may have believed the magistrate’s jurisdiction “extends to both tables of the law” and to protecting true worship because “no polity can be successfully established unless piety be its first care.” So argued John Calvin by appealing to the Davidic kings. And in one sense he’s right. People will not truly love their neighbors and refrain from murder, stealing, lying, and sexual deviancy if they don’t first love God. The second table depends on the first. Love of neighbor depends on love of God.
Therefore—the Magisterial Reformers reasoned—we should criminalize violations of the first table.
It’s that “therefore” that I disagree with. There’s a difference between recognizing moral truths and realities and granting the state the authority to enforce them. A moral “is” does not equate to a governmental “ought.” So it’s true that laws against murder and stealing will only be fully obeyed among a people who worship no other gods—see heaven. Yet that doesn’t mean the nations of the world outside of ancient Israel, whether today or in the days of the Old Testament, have been authorized to wield the sword against first table infractions.
Furthermore, how well did the Mosaic Covenant’s call to enforce the first table work for Israel? Did it, as Calvin says, establish piety as Israel’s first care? Don’t the lessons of Israel’s failure and exile teach the exact opposite? Isn’t the takeaway lesson that human beings can have God’s own law written on stone, God’s hand selected kings and priests, God’s own presence in the temple, and yet they still worship other gods and sacrifice their children to idols? If laws against blasphemy didn’t work for them, why do we think it will work for us? If the answer is, “Well, we have Holy Spirit-indwelled churches now,” then, yes, we do. But we don’t have a Holy-Spirit-indwelled nation. So why, again, would we expect first table enforcement to work any differently for our nation than for the Israelite nation?
For as much as our doctrine of total depravity depends on Reformed theologians like Calvin, a Reformed Baptist like me would suggest he failed to apply that doctrine adequately to his political theology. The divinely-intended political theological lesson of Israel’s failure is that our hearts are so corrupt that the sword can do nothing—absolutely nothing—to change them, which is why Jesus refused Peter’s grab at a sword in the Garden of Gethsemane. Nothing other than the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit will yield obedience to the First Table of the law, so look for such obedience in your churches. Patrol those borders for First Table adherence. The church now possesses this priestly job, not the nation. To seek to enforce the First Table should necessarily lead to the death penalty and exile, because “None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God” (Rom. 3:11). Indeed, that’s why God exiled Israel.
Second Table enforcement, however, is different. By God’s common grace, non-Christians really can be expected and made to keep aspects of it. We really can enforce laws against murder and stealing. Idolatry? Good luck. That’s one lesson of ancient Israel.
Not only that, it’s true I require my children to attend church and endure family worship at home. But I’ve never criminalized or punished violations of the first table in my home. Can you imagine punishing your children for—all by itself— not loving God?
The question I’d ask of the First Table-Enforcers today is, do they think that launching my children and theirs into a society that punishes First Table infractions, if only by making them second-class citizens, really helps them to know Jesus? Do they assume our children will respond well to that?
Suppose I had a rebellious child. Suppose she evidenced this rebellious nature from a young age, and it continues through her teenage years. What exactly do the First-Table enforcers think governmental laws will do that my home laws, combined as they are with love and personal knowledge and affirmation and affection, will accomplish?
Magisterial Protestantism, and various forms of theonomy, and a certain variety of Christian nationalism, sometimes draw an analogy to the “Christian family.” They argue that, in the same way a so-called Christian parents establish structures, rules, and practices that are conducive to Christian belief, so can the state. Yet in so doing, they treat adults as children. They infantilize them.
My point here is not, “That’s insulting. How dare you treat people like children!” The point is, adults aren’t children. They’re not wired like children, particularly children living in the homes of Christian parents. Recall how Jesus said we need the faith of a child? Therefore, we launch them from the home. We remove the strictures we placed on them. For one, we stop requiring them to attend church with us. In general, we should not expect such structures-conducive-to-belief, whatever those are, to work for adults like they do for children. It’s strange to me, therefore, that the First-Table enforcers want to extend the parental hand out of the home, down the street, and into all of life for the child that the parent has let go of.
And that brings me to a second point.
2. Our sons and daughters, launching into the world, don’t need false gods and false Christianities established in the public square.
For every time you manage to get hold of the sword to prosecute your religion or your sect, seven other times someone else will get a hold of it to prosecute theirs against yours. Isaac Backus commented, “the same sword that Constantine drew against the heretics, Julian turned against the orthodox.”
One question those who call for the legal implementation of first table matters never answer is, how can you guarantee it’s your God or your version of Christianity, and not, say, Joe Biden’s Christianity, which is being established? And here’s where the whole comparison to the so-called  “Christian family” breaks down. What’s the starting point for what people call a “Christian family”? Christian parents. Great. Christian parents should implement Christian structures and expectations. Yet then folks make the quick analogy. “The government should do what Christian parents do.” Okay, but with Christian parents, you are, by definition, starting with the most important thing: Christians. With a government, you’re not. So how can you guarantee it? Because the whole theory of government propounded by First-Table establishers depends on it.
Not only that, the Bible assigns parents with the broadest authority of any authority on earth. It’s effectively totalitarian, extending from learning to wipe your bottom to instructions on worship. Are you sure that you want to draw that analogy, and hand such a broad, totalitarian authority to the government? In Russia, you’ll get a Roman Orthodox church. You want that? In Italy, a Roman Catholic one. Do you want that? And never mind what you’ll get in the nations governed by other religions.
No, I don’t want any of these things for my daughters in order for them to know Jesus, nor do I want the government treating them with the same authority as my own.
3. They need the freedom to make their own decisions about who God is and whether or not they will follow him.
Friends, get into your heads any non-Christian you know. Can you really imagine trying to induce them toward Christianity with any type of threat? Any type of penalty? Any type of tax? Any type of second class citizenship? Can you imagine saying to that non-Christian you’re thinking of, “We’re going to fine you for not loving Jesus like we think you should?” Do you think that will work?
If so, I question your understanding of psychology, not to mention the Holy Spirit, the new birth, and conversion. Again, do you do that even with your kids now? Is it law that Paul says will bring us to repentance? Or the kindness and the grace of God (see Rom. 2:4)?
The kingdom of God will not be advanced by the sword. Peter wanted to pick up the sword in the Garden of Gethsemane. “We’re not going to build the kingdom that way,” said Jesus. You cannot point me to a single verse in the New Testament—there is not the slightest whiff in the New Testament—that we advance the kingdom of God by the sword. Isaac Backus again: “Our glorious Head [Jesus] made no use of secular force in the first setting up of the gospel church.” Jesus and the apostles didn’t need the sword to set up churches, which are the pathway to true righteousness and justice and love of neighbor.  Do we?
To put this third point another way: enforcing the First Table operates by kingdom of man logic (triumph through power) rather than kingdom of God logic (triumph through weakness). What do our teenagers and non-Christian friends, what does the church itself, need to learn about Jesus? That with his first-coming, he foregrounded his work of priestly weakness and sacrifice. He does not foreground his work of kingly triumph until his second coming. That’s one of the things that changed from the old covenant to the new. Isaiah teaches that the Davidic King, who established the kingdom of Israel in strength, would turn out to be the suffering servant, who established the kingdom of God in weakness. And yet now, folk think we’re to do it like Israel did it? Did we miss how Christ said he would build his kingdom?
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Sacraments are not magical. They aren’t a quick and easy replacement for sincere faith, and spiritual devotion. But by the power of God they sincerely promise “benefit to worthy receivers.” Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are central to God’s program for our spiritual growth. Let’s use them to think about Jesus and his benefits, to believe that by faith we have a saving relation to him, to walk differently.

Has the church has missed God’s plan for spiritual growth? Conventional wisdom promotes pragmatic self-help schemes, elaborate church programs, and charismatic leaders. But what if God actually authorized a simpler way?
Early Christians committed to expository preaching, fellowship, and prayers (Acts 2:42). They also believed that God had given them powerful rituals to help them walk with God. Baptism symbolizes everything believers have gained in Christ (Rom. 6:4). The Lord’s Supper, sometimes called “the breaking of bread” (Acts 2:42), helps God’s hungry and thirsty children feed on Christ.[i] The early church teaches us to be cautious about modern models for spiritual growth (1 Cor. 2:1–5) and to emphasize the role of the sacraments as God’s gift for pilgrims along the way.
What are Sacraments?
Sacraments are divinely instituted signs and seals of the covenant of grace.
Signs and Seals
God voluntarily condescends to make a gracious covenant with his people. A covenant is a binding agreement between two parties. In the covenant of grace God “freely offereth unto sinners life and salvation by Jesus Christ.” In turn he requires of covenant people “faith in him.” This is the most life-giving relationship you can ever enter. In the covenant of grace God promises “to give unto all those that are ordained unto eternal life his Holy Spirit, to make them willing, and able to believe” (WCF 7.3).
In fact, God’s covenant promises are so wonderful that we are prone to doubt them. We worry that we may not be among the number of those God has called out of the world. We are slow to keep our side of the covenant. We might forget altogether about covenant privileges and responsibilities. So our gracious God gives sacraments to point to (signs) and authenticate (seals) the covenant of grace. In Abraham’s life the sign of circumcision validated God’s promise that he was righteous before God because of his faith (Rom. 4:11). So today baptism and the Lord’s Supper signify and seal God’s covenant.
Divinely Instituted
God alone can authorize holy signs and seals of his covenant. Many things may feel spiritual but lack actual power for helping our walk with the Lord. As tangible indicators of the covenant of grace God has given us two sacraments, baptism and the Lord’s Supper. These are substantially the same as circumcision and the Passover in the Old Testament; they signify and exhibit the same spiritual things.
And like the Old Testament sacraments, baptism and the Lord’s Supper cannot be “dispensed by any, but by a minister of the Word lawfully ordained.”
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Paul’s challenge to Peter reminds us that the critical issue is not so much “who” is preaching, but “what” is being preached. Even the apostle Peter must be confronted when he falls into doctrinal error. Fortunately, Paul rescues Peter from very serious consequences including condemnation from the brothers because of his own hypocrisy.[13] By the time of the Jerusalem Council, held shortly after Paul composes his Galatian letter, Peter and James are both in agreement with Paul. The issue is the content of what is preached (justification by faith alone), and the standard is fidelity to the gospel revealed by Jesus.

The Success of the Gentile Mission Raised Questions
As new churches were established in Gentile areas north of Palestine, one pressing question needed to be addressed. How were Jews and Gentiles to get along with one another in these new churches? This was especially the case in Asia Minor where Jews lived in many cities among large Gentile populations. Jewish Christians remained steeped in Jewish life and culture. No doubt, they struggled with the fact that recent Gentile converts had different sexual mores, ate things Jews did not, and who, when pressed about matters of the law may have asked, “who is this Moses fellow you keep talking about?” How would close fellowship between Jewish believers and “unclean” Gentiles in Galatia and Antioch be seen back in Jerusalem? The dicey relationship between Jew and Gentile meant that a collision between the weak-willed Peter and the iron-willed Paul was at some point inevitable. In verses 11-14, Paul demonstrates that even apostles must have their doctrine and conduct checked in the light of Scripture, specifically the revelation of Jesus about the gospel.
Moving on from recounting his second post-conversion visit to Jerusalem, Paul tells the Galatians how he was forced to confront Peter to his face when the latter had caved in to pressure from messengers from James possibly claiming they were sent by the Jerusalem church. This confrontation likely occurred not long after Paul and Barnabas returned to Antioch after their prior visit to Jerusalem. As N. T. Wright points out, it is easy to overlook the fact that the reason why this seems so vivid in Paul’s account is because these events had taken place quite recently [1].
There is a noticeable progression in Paul’s recounting of his relationship with Peter, especially in light of the burgeoning Gentile mission undertaken by Paul, Barnabas, and others. Paul describes being Peter’s guest for fifteen days during his first trip to Jerusalem post-conversion (Galatians 1:18-20). Then, he speaks of Peter as a fellow apostle when recounting his second trip to Jerusalem (Galatians 2:1-10), before, finally, describing a confrontation with Peter when the latter falls into serious doctrinal error (Galatians 2:11-14).[2] While it is difficult to know how much of this is a word for word account of what Paul said to Peter and how much is a summation, what follows amounts to a major confrontation between the two men over the ground and meaning of the doctrine of justification.
The Men from James
We know from Luke’s account in Acts that Gentiles and Jews previously enjoyed table fellowship together in Antioch (where Paul and Peter later have their confrontation). Both groups participated in the Lord’s Supper as one body, with Peter apparently approving of the practice. In Acts 10:9-48, we read of Peter’s vision and visit to the Gentile Cornelius’ home, where the Holy Spirit told Peter that “all foods were clean.” From these events Peter concluded, “truly I understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (Acts 10:34). As recounted by Luke, the Gentiles were baptized and received the Holy Spirit, just as occurred with the Jewish believers. At first Peter saw Jew and Gentile on an equal footing before God.[3] A common faith in Jesus as Israel’s Messiah and the Son of God who died for their sins who was then raised from the dead produced a remarkable fellowship between Jew and Gentile, who, otherwise would have little if anything to do with each other. That is, until “certain men came from James.”
Professor Bruce thinks these men “from James” who arrived in Antioch were trying to convince the Jewish brothers of something along the lines of “we in Jerusalem hear that those of you in Antioch are in the habit of practicing regular table fellowship with Gentiles.” This practice was causing great concern among the Jewish brethren in Jerusalem who feared such close associations might make efforts to evangelize Jews much more difficult. This was also a time of increasing Jewish militancy against their Roman occupiers. About this time, the Romans crucified several prominent leaders of the zealots in Palestine. With such tensions in the air, any Jews, including Peter, who fraternized with Gentiles and adopted Gentile ways were increasingly seen by the fellow Jews as traitors, fraternizing with godless and unclean Gentiles.[4]
Under such circumstances we can see why men like James, Peter, Barnabas, and the Jewish believers in Antioch, would be greatly troubled by too close an association with Gentiles. The churches had enjoyed a time of peace and numerical growth, but now trouble was brewing. The Jerusalem church was worried. The issue at hand was not simply a question of how Gentiles join the church–through faith in Israel’s Messiah, not by embracing Jewish customs and practices as claimed by New Perspective on Paul [NPP] proponents.[5] Since NPP advocates understand the matter as a question of “who is in the church?” the answer given is that all believers are children of Abraham, including Gentiles. Therefore it is wrong for the agitators to seek to exclude Gentiles merely on ethnic and cultural grounds.
Rather, the underlying issue was the question of how Jews understood the role of human effort in justification.
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