The church’s independence is inferred from the nature of its early operations, its instructions from Christ and the apostles, and from its unique nature as God’s chosen people on Earth. At no point did Christ or his disciples ever say anything to the effect of ‘and when you select elders to rule your churches, remember to consult with the local rabbis and pagan priests as to whom to select, and be sure to allow the local Roman magistrate to select at least one.’ That the church would select its officers from its own midst (Acts 1:21-26; 6:1-6) and according to its own divinely-given criteria (1 Tim. 3:1-7; Tit. 1:6-9) is taken for granted.

In a previous article I asserted that the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA)’s internal affairs are none of the business of political entities, whether parties or the formers of opinion. A correspondent wrote to the effect that my defense of the church’s independence was so strong as to suggest that she may go about acting as if she is above all criticism. He sets against my assertion of the church’s independence a commitment to transparency, fearing lest the church hold its privacy so highly that she effectively isolate herself from the public view entirely, and in so doing foster a climate in which she might be tempted to cover her inevitable faults.
Such a leap from what I actually said in arguing that the church’s internal matters be kept internal to its perceived implications is a bit much of a transmogrification to my mind, but fearing lest others should similarly misunderstand, I present the following clarifications of the church’s independence.

The church’s independence is not absolute (Mk. 12:17). Her property insurance company can require her to maintain working smoke detectors. The government can require her to obey legitimate laws (e.g., respecting building codes), provided said laws are evenly applied and not a pretext for discrimination. Her ministers and members are not immune from criminal or civil liability. That last point seems strange, but priestly (or clerical) immunity has historically been a grievous evil and a nuisance to civil harmony. The church is subordinate to the state in those matters like civil justice and order in which God has ordained the state to be an earthly authority (Rom. 13:1-7).
The church’s independence is negative, not positive. That independence means freedom from undue command or interference by others, not power over them. This sets it against the errors of both Erastianism (the belief that the government of both church and state belongs to the civil ruler [magistrate]) and the historic belief of the papists that the state is properly subordinate to the church.[1]
The church’s independence is a part of ‘sphere sovereignty.’ The church has no right to command the state or to take its proper sphere of responsibilities to itself. It may not appoint its officers to the offices of the state or exercise the functions of the government such as raising taxes, making war, granting patents, coining money, etc. But neither may the state appoint the church’s leaders, establish or alter her constitution, conduct her affairs, or otherwise intrude upon her sphere of authority and responsibility. And neither government nor church should deign to undertake the responsibilities of the family, except where it freely consents to either to act in loco parentis (e.g., in education).[2]
The church’s independence includes privacy and confidentiality, but does not mean it is a secret club or a cult free from all outside observation. There are occasions where others may forcibly inquire into our affairs (e.g., fire warden inspections), and there are cases where we should voluntarily share them: if First Pres. Anytown’s pastor is charged with a sex crime, the church would do well to publicly acknowledge the offense and state what it is doing to redress the wrong and prevent future occurrences. Actually much of our activity (worship services, works of mercy, outreach) is or ought to be public, except where persecution mandates secrecy. As my correspondent rightly noted, we are to let our light shine before men (Matt. 5:16). But as all human life requires a measure of privacy, so also does that of the church. Its internal government and affairs are often not hidden from public view, but there are occasions where they are; and even when they are not, it does not follow that outsiders may freely comment on them as if they are their own business. This reservation of privacy is by no means unique to the church: most companies are far more confidential in their business operations than we.
The church’s independence means she governs herself and has a right to be free from unwarranted interference by others. The church selects her own officers, runs her own agencies and programs, raises her own revenue, and handles her own administrative and judicial affairs. If Calvary Presbytery ordains Mr. Prolix to the office of teaching elder and the state house passes a resolution demanding the rescission of his ordination, the church’s independence is thereby infringed; but it would be similarly infringed if a private entity (as a company, chamber of commerce, or think tank) made similar protest of Mr. Prolix’s ordination.
The church’s independence is imperfectly realized. Many are ignorant of the doctrine or malign or modify it. Many deny it in part or whole, or adhere to it selectively. This doctrine, though important and immensely helpful, is not accounted a matter of orthodoxy. Faithful believers (as those in established churches) who do not adhere to it are not to be deemed heretics. In this world truth appears in fits as its rays break through sin’s dark clouds.
The church’s independence is inferred from the nature of its early operations, its instructions from Christ and the apostles, and from its unique nature as God’s chosen people on Earth. At no point did Christ or his disciples ever say anything to the effect of ‘and when you select elders to rule your churches, remember to consult with the local rabbis and pagan priests as to whom to select, and be sure to allow the local Roman magistrate to select at least one.’ That the church would select its officers from its own midst (Acts 1:21-26; 6:1-6) and according to its own divinely-given criteria (1 Tim. 3:1-7; Tit. 1:6-9) is taken for granted. And when outsiders presumed to command the church contrary to God’s will they were openly resisted as having no right to do so (Acts 4:13-20; 5:27-29). So also does Christ’s statement to “render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Mk. 12:17) presuppose different spheres of God-given authority and responsibility, of which one is represented in the church, which is God’s institution for ruling and teaching his people (Eph. 4:11-16). When some of the Corinthians brought disputes before the civil magistrates (1 Cor. 6), Paul rebuked them on the ground that the church will judge the world and angels at the Last Day, and he ends his argument by saying (v. 3) that if they are to be fit to make such momentous judgments, “how much more, then, matters pertaining to this life!” The obvious corollary would be that the world/unbelievers judging the Corinthians would be an inversion of the proper order, even now when the Corinthians’ final conformity to Christ’s image (and accompanying fitness to judge in righteousness) is not yet complete. And if unbelievers are not to even judge disputes between individual believers, how much less should they have any say in the government of the entire church itself. It is therefore to be accounted independent viz. such outside entities, and as responsible for its own government, answering only to God.

Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church, Five Forks/Simpsonville (Greenville Co.), SC. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not of necessity reflect those of his church or its leadership or other members. He welcomes comments at the email address provided with his name. He is also author of Reflections on the Word: Essays in Protestant Scriptural Contemplation. 

[1] See the end of p. 448 and the beginning of 449 of William Cunningham’s Historical Theology at Monergism here.
[2] How many spheres of responsibility and authority there are is a question I do not answer here. One might argue society is a fourth sphere alongside family, church, and state.

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Some segments are self-explanatory—praise, confession, praying Scripture, thanksgiving, and singing, to name a few; but other segments may need explanation. Waiting is the quieting of one’s heart. Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” (Psalm 46:10, ESV). Watching is letting God lead you to pray for whatever comes to mind. Colossians 4:2 states, “Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.” It unloads the mind of all the burdens a person carries with them.

I love to run. It has a quiet simplicity: just me and the pavement—pounding the ground, step after step, watching deer bound into the forest, Venus shining in the night, crisp air filling my lungs, and crunching leaves underfoot. Nothing vies for my attention. The Earth spins at 1,000 miles per hour, but life slows down mile after mile when I run. Running dampens the hectic buzz of the schedule.
As a pastor of a multisite church and a parent of six children who are engaged in varied sports and activities, family dinners are often on the go. The pace of life has shifted into relentless overdrive. Amidst the frenzy, running is a sanctuary—a time to set everything aside and unwind. But unwinding is not the only reason I lace up my shoes and head out the door; an hour of exercise gives me an hour to pray.
How did it happen that running became a time to pray?
Many years ago, on a mission trip to London, the team “camped out” in a small church. During personal devotions, one day, I picked up Dick Eastman’s The Hour That Changes the World: A Practical Plan for Personal Prayer. In this book, Eastman breaks down one hour of prayer into twelve five-minute segments—like a clock.
Here are the segments:

Praise
Waiting on God
Confession
Praying Scripture
Watching
Intercession
Petition
Thanksgiving
Singing
Meditation
Listening
Praise

As I run, I pray through these twelve segments. This same method could work for you as you walk, cycle, do gardening, or have quiet time—a personal retreat or even a commute to work. Just set a timer for five minutes and move from one prayer segment to the next during the hour.
Some segments are self-explanatory—praise, confession, praying Scripture….
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As a feminist more or less from the left, not everything Perry says will be embraced by those who are conservative and/or religious. But when you have someone like this making a fairly strong case for the differences between men and women, the importance of marriage, and the depersonalising nature of the sexual revolution and porn culture, then you know you need to sit up and take notice of the arguments that are being made.

Over the past few decades there have been a number of excellent works critiquing the sexual revolution, the porn culture, sexuality divorced from morality, and so on. While many of these are penned by those who are conservatives and Christians, not all are. Some are written by secular, liberal feminists. Perry falls into this camp, so she cannot simply be dismissed as just some right-wing religious type.
Her new book makes a powerful case for how the much-vaunted sexual revolution has actually been a massive failure, and certainly has not been beneficial to women and children. Indeed, wealthy men tend to be the main beneficiaries of all this.
In her first chapter, “Sex Must Be Taken Seriously,” she explains what her main topic is: “the effect of the sexual revolution on relations between the sexes.” As many before her have documented, relations have suffered greatly, and women especially bear the brunt of all this.
And again, the bitter fruit has long been documented. But when someone normally associated with supporting what the 60s has wrought speaks out against it—at least in good measure—then you know maybe things are not really right, and a closer look is needed.
So in well-documented chapters she looks at a number of shibboleths that her own side has pushed, noting their very real shortcomings. Imagine for example taking on one of the big liberal dogmas of our time: that men are actually the same as women.
Since Perry has been involved in rape crisis work, she knows that this is more than just a theoretical discussion. She states that she used to buy the standard yarn that there are no real differences between the sexes, and that what we have is just socialisation processes.6
But the more she worked with rape victims—and the more she read some countervailing research—the more she became convinced that this must largely be rejected. She says human beings are animals, members of the Great Apes. And there we see very real differences between male and female. She notes physiological distinctions, among others. The trans debate arises here of course, and she writes:
But recognising these kinds of physical limitation does not sit well with a liberal feminist project that aims to challenge any restrictions on human freedom. If we acknowledge that there are immovable differences between the sexes in terms of strength and speed, then we are also forced to acknowledge not only that natal males cannot fairly compete in women’s sports, but also that natal females experience a permanent physical disadvantage. And the consequences of this disadvantage go well beyond sports, particularly when male upper body strength is set beside the fragility of the female throat and skull. In the modern West, it has become increasingly possible to become detached from the sexually dimorphic body when one does not do a manual job, compete in sports or bear children. But the unwelcome truth will always remain, whether or not we can bear to look at it: almost all men can kill almost all women with their bare hands, but not vice versa. And that matters.
Getting back to the rape issue, she suggests that we may need to ease up—at least somewhat—on the common assertion that it is just “an expression of political dominance rooted in patriarchy” and might better understand it as “an aggressive expression of sexual desire.”
This is examined further in her next chapter, “Some Desires Are Bad”. It discusses the porn culture in general and paedophilia in particular. The tsunami of sleaze—including things like child porn—that we now have raging all around us must be challenged and we might have to admit that many defenders of the sexual revolution were on the “wrong side of history.” As she says:
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