For my part I think it more likely that the WCF’s authors got their idea of the soul returning unto God directly from Scripture itself, and that neither Scripture nor their exegesis and systematization of it was formed in light of Neoplatonic tradition, be it knowingly or not.

Previously I discussed how Carl Mosser mistakenly implied that Rome-leaning Hans Boersma is Reformed in an article at Credo that purports to discuss Reformed notions of the beatific vision. I noted that such a blunder invites skepticism as to the rest of his claims, and one who considers those claims will find such skepticism justified. Mosser quotes Westminster Seminary professor R. Carlton Wynne’s suggestion that Boersma’s writings should be shunned “as harboring unbiblical Neoplatonic influences” and says that “these claims are curious since The Westminster Confession . . . alludes to the originally Neoplatonic notion that all things come from God (exitus) and return to him (reditus).” He quotes Westminster Confession (WCF) 32.1 as proof, which says that “[men’s] souls (which neither die nor sleep), having an immortal subsistence, immediately return to God who gave them.” Mosser omits WCF 32.1’s Scripture proofs, however, which show that “immediately return to God who gave them” is a direct reference to Ecc. 12:7 (“the spirit shall return unto God who gave it”).  With that his argument falls apart, for it shows that Westminster’s notion of the intermediate state is derived directly from Scripture, not Neoplatonism.
Now in defense of Mosser one could say that Ecclesiastes itself was written late and under Platonic influences, though I think it highly unlikely that there is a convincing amount of evidence to support such a claim (it would take much) and doubt very strongly that such a thing was the view of most of the Westminster assemblymen, or even yet widely-heard in the pre-Enlightenment and pre-scriptural criticism era of the 1600s. But those are questions of canon and historical thought that are not quickly answered, and the burden should be on the one so inclined to make such a claim.
Alternatively, one could say that the WCF’s authors were recipients of a theology that had been influenced by Neoplatonism, and that, as such, they were recipients of Neoplatonic notions which they then confessed publicly. This seems to be Mosser’s point, as well as the view that Credo has been promoting as of late: there is a tradition – or rather, ‘Great Tradition’ – of common belief that permeates all of Christian history, and while it appeals to Scripture for proof of its doctrines, the tradition itself is often logically prior to its scriptural proofs. Hence Chapter Two of Boersma’s Five Things Theologians Wish Biblical Scholars Knew is titled “No Plato, No Scripture,” and the ‘Great Tradition’ elsewhere lauds Platonism, which obviously exists apart from Scripture. On this view, in writing a confession the Westminster Assembly began with certain notions of the intermediate state that were derived from the Great Tradition that spanned back through the medievals and into the early Church, and they then turned to Scripture to buttress those notions and exegeted it in light of them.
Mosser asserts further that “the [Westminster] divines’ individual writings” show that they “confessed the hope of beatific vision in continuity with their patristic and medieval forbears,” and he appeals as proof to “many approving citations on the topic from the Cappadocian Fathers, Augustine, Bernard of Clairvaux, Aquinas, Bonaventure and other figures sometimes alleged to have been unduly influenced by Neoplatonism.” That last sentence throws a pall over his whole argument. He begins by confidently asserting Neoplatonic concepts in the Westminster Standards, only to turn and say that the earlier figures whom he asserts Westminster’s divines approvingly quoted were only “sometimes alleged to have been unduly influenced by Neoplatonism.” Well might a reader think with some exasperation: ‘So were they actually Neoplatonic or only allegedly so?’
In any event, Mosser does not provide any examples of such “approving citations” as he confidently asserts abound in the Westminster divines’ individual writings in such plenitude, and so I say we let Mosser and other eager-for-tradition contributors at Credo prove that the Westminster Assembly’s systematization of doctrine was formed under Neoplatonic influences if they can. For my part I think it more likely that the WCF’s authors got their idea of the soul returning unto God directly from Scripture itself, and that neither Scripture nor their exegesis and systematization of it was formed in light of Neoplatonic tradition, be it knowingly or not. And if any is inclined to differ I invite him to read the WCF itself, with its 4,000 Scripture references and precisely zero references to Platonism, and attempt to make the case.
Having made an unconvincing case that the Westminster Standards are Neoplatonic in their confession of the believer’s experience of God after death, Mosser then formulates a doctrine of the beatific vision that is centered upon the concept of deification. He does not clearly define deification, though in passing (and in accord with wider usage) he links it to the Eastern concept of theosis, which holds that it is the believer’s end “to become a god” and “to be like God Himself” by union with him and participation in his nature. It is noteworthy that Mosser regards deification as essential to the beatific vision: quoting Boersma, he says that “historically, the doctrine of the beatific vision went hand in hand with theologies of deification,” and he elsewhere argues that “Reformed theologians who eschewed deification tended to also neglect the beatific vision or, at most, affirm a minimalist version of the doctrine.” He is so bold as to say that “deification is – and always has been – an ecumenical doctrine of the universal church,” and he mentions several prominent reformers in claiming that it is a historic Reformed teaching.
Of these reformers he only attempts an explanation with two. He begins with Zwingli, and his suggestion that Zwingli taught deification is not convincing. The first paragraph simply describes a version of the beatific vision that does not in itself mention anything about deification, but which emphasizes rather the perfect and enduring satisfaction that the vision of God will entail. Mosser states that “Zwingli’s description of the eternal state probably reflects the influence of Gregory of Nyssa who referred to this idea as epectasis” (emphasis mine). Two sentences later he says that “Zwingli’s description of epectasis expounds a doctrine of deification that he earlier inscribed in the first formal statement of Reformed theology, the Sixty-Seven Articles (1523).” From “probably reflects” to a definite “description of epectasis” in two sentences, and that on the basis of an assumed identity between Nyssa’s notion of epektasis (as it is more commonly spelled) and Zwingli’s statement that “the good which we shall enjoy is infinite and the infinite cannot be exhausted.” Note that Zwingli’s statement does not mention us being deified or perpetually increased in our capacity for good, but rather emphasizes God’s goodness being infinite. That seems to be the opposite of what is in view in Gregory’s epektasis.
Mosser quotes Article XIII of Zwingli’s Sixty Seven Articles as a more direct proof of Zwingli’s doctrine of deification: “Where this (the head) is hearkened to one learns clearly and plainly the will of God, and man is attracted by his spirit to him and changed into him.” There is a complication, however, in that the phrase that purportedly teaches deification comes from a single translation of Zwingli’s works that was published in 1901. The OPC and Reformation Heritage Books have more recently translated Article XIII differently, with “changed into him” appearing as “converted to him” and “transformed into his likeness,” respectively.
As a general rule a single obscure statement is not a good ground to build a major doctrine upon, especially where its meaning is translated differently by others. Mosser therefore appeals to a monograph called The Defense of the Reformed Faith, in which we find Zwingli’s exposition of his Sixty Seven Articles and with it some explicit mention of deification (“that a person is drawn to God by God’s Spirit and deified, becomes quite clear from Scripture”). There are a few things to note here. One, The Defense translates Article XIII as ending “transformed into his likeness” – it is in fact the translation Reformation Heritage Books uses above. Two, here too we are at the mercy of a single translator, who says that Zwingli’s original German “implies deification,” but who does not further explain why. Three, the only German translations of the Sixty Seven Articles I was able to find online give different versions of the text of Article XIII than are mentioned in The Defense, thus suggesting there are multiple variations of the text of Article XIII extant. Four, Mosser himself references a German phrase (in inn verwandlet) when he discusses Zwingli’s exposition of Article XIII, and cites The Defense, page 57 as his source. That German phrase does not appear on page 57 of The Defense: no German phrase does, and the only allusion to the original German is in two footnotes on page 58, the second of which is irrelevant here, and the first of which contains a different German phrase (und in got verwandlet) than Mosser uses. It is not clear then where Mosser is getting his German text, for it is not from The Defense.
Lastly, the orthodoxy of the translator of The Defense, E.J. Furcha, is in question, for he contributed to a festschrift that included a piece titled “Comparing Dharmakaya Buddha and God: Not an Exercise in Emptiness.” Furcha’s own contribution (“The Paradoxon as Hermeneutical Principle: the Case of Sebastian Franck, 1499-1542”) also invites suspicion, for Furcha regards Franck positively (“Franck’s Paradoxa is a masterpiece”), and seems to do so for reasons that we would disapprove (Franck is an “independent thinker who seeks to integrate expressions of a living Christian faith with valid manifestations of such faith in non-Christian religions”). We might be forgiven for suspecting that someone who could write that last sentence is perhaps likely to interpret a somewhat obscure phrase in a more liberal manner.
Mosser also searches for support for deification in Calvin’s writings, and here too his case is unconvincing. Some of Calvin’s statements simply sound like descriptions of a beatific vision, not the deifying one that Mosser promotes (e.g. “[Calvin] says ‘participation in the glory of God’ will exalt the bodies of departed saints ‘above nature’”). Mosser substitutes his own meanings of French and Latin phrases for those of the original translators of some of the works he cites, and in so doing translates them more sympathetically to his own view than did the original translators (see his endnotes 26 and 28). Of his competence in Latin and French I know nothing; yet his method is odd, as it invites the question as to why we should prefer his translations over the originals.
Some idea of how he handles his material can be gained from his consideration of Calvin’ statement that “Christ took to Himself what was ours in order that He might transfer what was His to us,” which Mosser says is an example of “the patristic exchange formula” which shows “the deep influence patristic writers . . .  had on [Calvin’s] soteriology.” That seems reasonable, but when in the very next sentence Mosser says “in these patristic writers, the exchange formula ‘teaches deification without actually employing the word’” and then goes on to say that “there can be little doubt Calvin meant it the same way,” well might we object that his use of words is far more convenient for his cause than those words themselves justify. Even the one passage which uses the actual word deify does so timidly and with reservation (“the end of the gospel is, to render us eventually conformable to God, and, if we may so speak, to deify us”). All of which is to say that anyone who wants to learn what the Reformed teach concerning the beatific vision will have to go somewhere other than Credo. For our state in glory, see Calvin’s Institutes III, ch. 25, a passage Mosser invokes only to mention Plato (in true Great Tradition fashion).[1]
Tom Hervey is a member, Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church, Simpsonville, SC. The statements made in this article are the personal opinions of the author alone, and do not necessarily reflect the views of his church or its leadership or other members.
[1]Concerning deification, see Bavinck’s Reformed Dogmatics, Vol. II, pp. 187-190.
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We have come a long way over the last decade—since that shooting incident on the old church steps on a December evening. A lot has changed. A lot has happened. A lot has stayed the same. And what has particularly remained the same is God’s covenant faithfulness to us individually and as a group of believers—pilgrims passing through this world on our way to the Celestial City.

It was a little over a decade ago, on December 4th, 2011, that we experienced first-hand what many of our parishioners know all too well—the outbreak of violence and the threat of death. It was on that date when a gunfight broke out at the intersection of Kennedy and Brawley, one of the most dangerous intersections in the South—the place where since April 2010 Pastor Frank had been conducting our weekly Bible study at 5 o’clock on Sunday evenings.  The shots weren’t aimed at our little group, sitting on the steps of a derelict church building, or at Pastor Frank, standing out on the sidewalk with his whiteboard.  It was obviously a drug turf war.  The first round of shots was a little unsettling, but the second round resulted in all of us except Pastor Frank hitting the ground, lying flat and praying.  Our brave leader stood his ground as he dialed 911.  None of us was hurt, and we all praised the Lord for his protection of us.
That event, in which the Lord clearly was watching over us, was ten years ago. That doesn’t seem possible—how swiftly time flies. But, on the other hand, so much has happened since then. Sometimes, it seems like it’s all a dream . . . .
For another year after that shooting incident, we continued to meet at that same street corner, in all kinds of weather and circumstances. We enjoyed the interaction with people who would come by and who would sit for a spell on the steps—there was something exciting about being in that environment, outdoors, on the tree-lined street, with a feel of street preaching.  But by late 2012, after two and a half years on that corner, it was clear that we needed to take the next step toward becoming a church plant.
In December 2012, we started weekly worship services. And we were able at long last to meet indoors, as a result of the kindness of a Muslim convenience store owner who allowed us to use a room at the back of the store.  This was very awkward as there was no electricity, so we moved, in mid-2013, to the basement of a local church.  From that facility we were able to increase our outreach into the community by holding two very successful coat drives in the parking lot, giving away literally hundreds of coats and blankets.  At the end of that year, we moved into a very small building, basically a one-room Baptist church, from where, for the first time, we held a Vacation Bible School in a nearby park.  We stayed in that building for a year and a half before moving to one side of a duplex in June 2015.
By moving to the duplex, we then had a building that we could use at any time of the day, and on any day of the week.  We were no longer confined to a few hours on the Lord’s Day. And our Sunday School teachers were particularly thrilled as they had their own rooms that they could decorate, and in which they could store their teaching materials.  We made use of our new flexibility by holding a “Family Fling”, similar to a VBS but including adults, organized by one of our Sunday School teachers, Miss Amy Work.
Of course, not all was a bed of roses. For instance, the occupants of the other half of the duplex turned out to be your friendly neighbourhood crooks. Indeed, on one occasion we discovered that they had broken through the shared attic wall in order to get into our side of the building so as to run an electric cable and steal electricity from us!
But despite various ongoing challenges, our being in that duplex marked a transition for our ministry. Our group started to enjoy a stability that we had not had before.
Another important development came in 2017 when Miss Amy, the Sunday school teacher of our older children, started God’s Girls Group, specifically designed to disciple two young ladies.  They have been meeting at her apartment once a month, doing something fun and interesting, and Miss Amy has been showing them how to cook while introducing them to healthy foods.  She also tries to impress upon them the importance of cleaning up after themselves, which seems to have been a foreign concept to them.  This is followed by a study time, in which the girls have been learning what it means to live as Christians.  Although one of the girls is no longer attending, the other is showing promising signs of the Spirit’s work.
There were other helps, too, including mission teams, such as those from our Columbus, Indiana, congregation, which came in 2016 and 2018 to assist us for a week.
But the most important factor in enabling us to mature as a group was when, in March 2019, Great Lakes-Gulf Presbytery voted unanimously to constitute Atlanta Presbyterian Fellowship as a mission church of the presbytery. Our name changed to Atlanta Reformed Presbyterian Church. We could now offer church membership and start observing the sacraments.  Frank accepted the call to be the organizing pastor, and the installation service was held in the duplex on May 10, 2019, with the Temporary Governing Body conducting the proceedings.  We were gratified to have a large number of people in attendance, including representatives from the PCA, OPC, ARP, and the Free Church of Scotland (Continuing).  With 55 people there, we were at maximum capacity.
Unfortunately, while Pastor Frank was driving the church van in order to pick up people for that service, he ran into a car that had failed to yield at a stop sign.  After having to wait a long time for the police to arrive, he finally was able to arrive back at the church. The service started about an hour late, but it went well.
A few weeks later, on the way home from Bible study, Pastor Frank and I were involved in a car accident.  It was a miracle that no other car was involved, and that we both received only minor injuries. However, both Frank and I had to miss church the following Sunday, and I missed the four Sundays after that as well.
Having been told by the owners of the duplex that we needed to vacate the building so that they could turn it into an Airbnb, Frank had been looking furiously to find somewhere else to rent, and, at the beginning of October 2019, we moved into a building that had originally been a broom factory.  About twenty years earlier, it had been purchased by a church, but the number of elderly members was dwindling, and they had been thinking about disbanding and selling the building.  So, we raised a goodly sum of money through the generosity of many people; and, in June 2020, were able to put a down payment on a mortgage provided by our Synod.
Our having our own facility—and especially one in such a strategic location—has also marked a significant transition for our congregation. We are still learning what it means to have a place we can call our own, and figuring out how to make the most use of it. But our acquisition of this property is another obvious signal of the Lord’s providential care for this ministry.
Ten years—ten years have passed since that gun battle just yards away from us. So much has happened since then. We have had people come and people go. Chris Myers and his family served for a couple of years, before moving away. Chris eventually was called as pastor of our Phoenix, Arizona, congregation. As soon as the Myers family left, Sean and Anne McPherson moved to the area from Pennsylvania and served for three years. And then, just as the McPhersons were moving back to their home state, TJ and Nancy Pattillo and their children Hannah and Sawyer started attending. TJ, an ordained Ruling Elder, is our talented ministerial intern and is also now a ministerial candidate in the RPCNA.
We’ve had others who have left us by means of death.  I remember Rose, a sweet, illiterate woman, who, we believe, did come to faith in Christ; Bill, a man who was able to profess faith and be baptized; and Andrew, who professed his faith and was baptized and then was, sadly, killed in a freak accident four months later.
And I think also of those who have recently joined the congregation. One man who comes to mind in particular is a fellow who had spent many years in prison doing hard time for crimes such as grand theft auto. He had been coming to church for several years on an irregular basis.  In July 2021 we heard that he had become very sick.  When we first visited him in hospice, he was unable to communicate very well. About a week and a half later, he sent word through his sister that he wanted the pastor to visit him. When Frank went in the next time, he was very alert and expressed his disappointment that he had not been able to complete the membership course. Two days later, the elders were able to conduct a meeting with him via Zoom, in order to hear his profession of faith and admit him to membership. We never expected him to be able to attend a service. Well, the next thing we knew, he had checked himself out of hospice, walked to the bus stop, taken the bus and then the MARTA train to near his apartment from where his daughter picked him up.  When he can, he makes it to church, and, at a wonderful time of prayer following a day of prayer and fasting back in October, he prayed wonderful prayers of gratitude and appreciation to God for having forgiven his sins and saved him.
We have come a long way over the last decade—since that shooting incident on the old church steps on a December evening. A lot has changed. A lot has happened. A lot has stayed the same. And what has particularly remained the same is God’s covenant faithfulness to us individually and as a group of believers—pilgrims passing through this world on our way to the Celestial City.
Has it really been ten years?
Penny Smith is a member of Atlanta Reformed Presbyterian Church (RPCNA) and the wife of Dr. Frank Smith, Pastor of Atlanta RPC.

I thank God for modern writers of hymns and songs, committed to producing music that is true and excellent for the glory of God and the people of God.  Music is a gift of God, a unique way of connecting His revelation with our hearts and minds. St. Augustine is thought to have said, “he who sings, prays twice.” The Church must recover a more robust understanding and practice of music. 

Today, January 13, we remember the Hussites who, on this day in 1501, published the first hymnal in history written in the language of the common people. The descendants of the Hussites are known as the Moravian Brethren, who carry on the rich tradition of hymns and church music today.  
Christians have good reason to commemorate this event. After all, ours, like Judaism, has always been a singing faith. The longest book in the Bible, and the one at its center, is the Psalms, a word that means “songs.” David’s plans for the Temple included clans of Levites whose entire job was music. Choirs, soloists, orchestras, and antiphonal singing were prescribed parts of Temple life and practice, and an entire class of Psalms, the Songs of Ascent, were sung by the people as they traveled to Jerusalem for the annual pilgrimage festivals.  
Throughout the biblical texts, music is also connected to prophecy and to dealing with evil spirits. Jesus and the apostles sang a hymn after the Last Supper, according to two of the Gospels. The Apostle Paul specifically associates singing with being filled with the Spirit in his epistle to the church at Ephesus. And, in John’s Revelation of what is constantly happening around the throne of God, there is lots of singing, sometimes accompanied by harps.  
Music also is part of the culmination of the creation story. When Eve is taken from Adam’s side, Adam awakes and exclaims, “This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.” Many scholars believe this to essentially be a celebratory song.  
Eliminating the musical element from the text of Scripture would be to gut them and the practices that have emerged from them. Monks chanted the Psalms daily, in some cases covering the entire Psalter in a week. Medieval thinkers thought of the human heartbeat, respiration, and daily cycle of sleeping and waking as “music.” They also believed the motion of the heavenly bodies was regulated by the “music of the spheres.” 
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