Praise Him, All Creatures Here Below
In 1674, Ken published A Manual of Prayers for the Use of the Scholars of Winchester College. In it, he gave instructions for the devotional use of a series of his new compositions of Morning and Evening Hymns, including “Awake, My Soul, and with the Sun” and “Glory to Thee, My God, this Night.” What we now commonly sing as the “Doxology,” was actually the closing stanza of each of these long hymn sequences. Interestingly, according to a long-held tradition, Ken may have first learned the text and the old Genevan tune setting from his adoptive father, Izaak Walton.
A doxology is a short chorus of praise to the Lord, often sung as a standalone piece or as a coda at the conclusion of psalms, hymns, or canticles. The word comes from the Greek doxa, meaning, “appearance” or “glory,” and logia, meaning, “study” or “declaration.” A doxology is thus a declaration of the glory of the Most High God; it is a joyous sung pronouncement of His praise.
Common doxologies include the Gloria in Excelsis Deo and the Gloria Patri. But of course, the most common of all is taken from Psalm 100 and sung to the tune of the Genevan Psalter’s “Old Hundredth.”
Praise God from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host:
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
This treasured doxology is sung every Sunday all around the globe in untold dozens of languages. It was composed by Thomas Ken, a fellow of Winchester College, a prebend of Winchester Cathedral, and later, the Bishop of Bath and Wells during the reigns of Charles II and James II.
Ken was tragically orphaned in childhood. So, his older sister, Ann, and her husband, Izaak Walton, brought him into their home raised him as their own. Walton was himself orphaned as a boy — his father died when he was just three, and he lost his mother when he was nine. Thanks to the beneficence of some distant relatives, he was able to train as a linen draper in the iron-mongers guild. Eventually, he set up a small shop in the busy neighborhood of Fleet Street near Chancery Lane in the London parish of St. Dunstan’s. It was there that he volunteered as a churchwarden and developed an enduring friendship with the pastor, John Donne — who of course would later gain renown as the dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
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Thoughts on Overture 12 From the 2023 PCA General Assembly: Sending the Overture to the Civil Magistrate
Written by T. David Gordon |
Wednesday, April 10, 2024
In American Presbyterian history, intermeddling with civil affairs that concern the commonwealth (aka political activism) has always led to theological liberalism. I am not predicting that the adoption of Overture 12 by the 50th General Assembly, or its adoption by many presbyteries, will lead the PCA in the same direction. I was and am disturbed, however, by the ease with which Confession of Faith 31:4 was either so breezily dismissed, or its interpretation by two generations of Hodges was so easily ignored.Introduction
Recently, I sent a (brief, 4-page) protest to Ascension Presbytery due to its recent action of instructing our clerk to forward to the magistrates Overture 12 from Evangel Presbytery (adjusted for our geography) regarding transgender procedures for minors. I believe the substance of the overture was true, biblical, and pertinent in our cultural moment. I also believe the men in our presbytery are good men, conscientious men, some of whom probably have not had the privilege of studying the issues of church and state, or even our doctrine of “the spirituality of the church” as thoroughly as I have, due to my academic duties. Such men probably were simply being cooperative; General Assembly’s stated clerk had sent the material to the presbyteries, requesting that the report be sent to the various state authorities, and they agreed to do so. I commend them for that cooperative spirit, a spirit that I have witnessed for many years, and especially in 2023 when I moderated the Presbytery. The disagreement I will describe is, in that sense, a cordial and respectful disagreement; I have no ill-will for any of my fathers and brothers individually or collectively. What follows is merely a statement of conscience on my part, and if others find anything useful in it, that is fine. I have never before protested an action of our Presbytery in the twenty-plus years I have been here, and only do so in this case because I believe that the relations between the three God-ordained institutions—family, state, and church—are to be respected by all three, and that each of the three needs to be especially careful not to impinge upon the other two.
The cultural confusion about human sexuality that began in the 1960s has continued to develop in profoundly dehumanizing ways since then, and has more recently expressed itself in a virtual denial of human sexuality itself, especially in the widespread adoption or approval of transgenderism. It was and is wise for the shepherds of the church to take cognizance of these trends, and to offer clear and unequivocal instruction to those under the church’s jurisdiction on such matters. Overture 12, adopted by the 2023 Assembly, and the same Overture, slightly adapted to regional realities by the Presbytery of the Ascension on 27 January, 2024, addressed the matter clearly and biblically. For substance, the Overture is to be applauded, and commended for consideration by any who take interest in the Scriptural testimony about human sexuality. Both the General Assembly and Ascension Presbytery are therefore to be commended for addressing the matter seriously and biblically. At the same time, I believe that both ecclesiastical bodies acted unconstitutionally in sending the Overture to the respective civil magistrates.[1] What follows in three parts are: a confessional consideration, several practical considerations, and an historical consideration.
I. Confessional Consideration
Westminster Confession of Faith 31:4 says:
“Synods and councils are to handle, or conclude nothing, but that which is ecclesiastical: and are not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth, unless by way of humble petition in cases extraordinary; or, by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate.” 1. It would be preferable not to have to remind an ecclesiastical body what the term “ecclesiastical” means. American Heritage lists three definitions, none of which would permit General Assembly or Presbytery to have sent this Overture to the civil magistrate: “
1. Of or relating to a church, especially as an organized institution.2. Appropriate to a church or to use in a church.3. Of or pertaining to the church; relating to the organization or government of the church; not secular.” Overture 12 was not related to a church, especially as an organized institution. It was not appropriate to a church or to use in a church (but rather instructed the magistrates about members of the culture generally). Overture 12 was not related to “the organization or government of the church; not secular.” To the contrary, it was addressed precisely to the “secular” culture at large, and its governors.
Proof that this reading of “ecclesiastical” is the proper one in WCF 31:4 is this: Had Evangel Presbytery not sent Overture 12 to the Assembly, and had the Assembly (and several presbyteries) therefore not taken the action of sending Overture 12 to the civil authorities, no one would have reasoned that General Assembly or Presbytery had neglected its “ecclesiastical” duties. Had GA not, for counter-example, reviewed Presbytery records, it would have neglected its “ecclesiastical” duties. Had GA not received and reviewed orderly complaints or appeals from lower courts, it would have neglected its “ecclesiastical” duties. Had it not given oversight to home and foreign missions, it would have neglected its “ecclesiastical” duties. But had it not uttered a single word about the tragedy of trans-gendering, it would not have neglected its “ecclesiastical” duties.
2. At the time our Confession of Faith was written, the Assembly was, at a minimum, theocratic, and many concur that it was Erastian. After all, the Assembly was called into existence by an act of Parliament to “vindicate” and clarify the doctrines of the Church of England, so its very existence and whatever it did was the result of an act of Parliament, an act of the civil magistrate. Their earlier words about the relation of church and state in WCF 23:3 were very different from what they would later become, after the American revisions of 1787/88. The original 1647 version said,
“The civil magistrate may not assume to himself the administration of the Word and sacraments, or the power of the keys of the kingdom of heaven: yet he hath authority, and it is his duty, to take order, that unity and peace be preserved in the Church, that the truth of God be kept pure and entire, that all blasphemies and heresies be suppressed, all corruptions and abuses of worship and discipline prevented or reformed, and all the ordinances of God duly settled, administered, and observed. For the better effecting whereof, he hath power to call synods, to be present at them, and to provide that whatsoever is transacted in them be according to the mind of God.”
The American revision, however, said,
“Civil magistrates may not assume to themselves the administration of the Word and sacraments; or the power of the keys of the kingdom of heaven; or, in the least, interfere in matters of faith. Yet, as nursing fathers, it is the duty of civil magistrates to protect the church of our common Lord, without giving the preference to any denomination of Christians above the rest in such a manner, that all ecclesiastical persons whatever shall enjoy the full, free, and unquestioned liberty of discharging, every part of their sacred functions, without violence or danger. …”
Note how they differ after the expression “kingdom of heaven,” around the second line into the first sentence. The original version says, regarding the magistrate, “yet he hath authority, and it is his duty, to take order, that unity and peace be preserved in the Church…,” whereas the 1787 language says, at this point, “or, in the least, interfere in matters of faith.” It is evident (and, to my knowledge, undisputed) that the American Presbyterians desired to remove the last vestiges of theocracy and Erastianism, and to separate the civil and ecclesiastical authorities.[2]
3. Even in the original 1647 situation, however, the relation between church and magistrate was not equal, nor was their relation one of a dialogue. Even at the time when it was the magistrate’s presumed duty “to take order, that unity and peace be preserved in the Church, that the truth of God be kept pure and entire, that all blasphemies and heresies be suppressed, all corruptions and abuses of worship and discipline prevented or reformed, and all the ordinances of God duly settled…” the reciprocal was not true. Even then, the church was far more restrained in its relation to the magistrate, as WCF 31:4 indicated:
“Synods and councils are to handle, or conclude nothing, but that which is ecclesiastical: and are not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth, unless by way of humble petition in cases extraordinary; or, by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate.”
A. A. Hodge, in his Commentary on the Westminster Confession of Faith, spoke very briefly about WCF 31:4, in four enumerated sections, the second and third of which describe its “purely ministerial and declarative” powers, and its appropriate power to “form creeds and confessions of faith.” His first and fourth comments address our concern:
“1. Negatively. Synods and councils have no right whatever to intermeddle with any affair which concerns the commonwealth; and they have no right to presume to give advice to, or to attempt to influence, the officers of the civil government in their action as civil officers, except (1.) in extraordinary cases, where the interests of the church are immediately concerned, by the way of humble petition, or (2.) by way of advice for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate.…4. Positively. While ecclesiastical courts have no right to handle or advise upon matters which belong to the jurisdiction of the civil magistrate, they, on the other hand, evidently possess an inalienable right of teaching church members their duty with respect to the civil powers, and of enforcing the performance of it as a religious obligation” (emphasis mine).[3]
A. A. Hodge placed the words “in cases extraordinary” in apposition to another clause that explained his understanding of those words: “where the interests of the church are immediately concerned.” Hodge was, of course, not infallible; but his interpretation at least makes applicable sense of the operative expression, “cases extraordinary.” For Hodge, “cases extraordinary” are those “where the interests of the church are immediately concerned.” Other explanations have been either subjective (e.g. “I feel really strongly about this) or relative (“this is really evil”), and the effect of such understandings is to eviscerate the prohibition of intelligible or operative meaning.[4] At least Hodge’s view was and is both intelligible and operative. It has real, practical meaning; whereas the various subjective understandings do not have and cannot have such operative or practical meaning.
4. Synods and councils are restricted in ways that individual church-members, and even church-officers, are not restricted. Chapter 31 does not restrict church-members from handling or concluding matters that are not ecclesiastical. Nor does Chapter 31 restrict church-officers from handling or concluding matters that are not ecclesiastical, provided that those church-officers are acting in their “several” powers, as opposed to their “joint” powers.
The recognition of the distinct “joint” powers of officers over the church appeared as early as 1578 in the Scottish Second Book of Discipline, in its first chapter, entitled “Of the Kirk and Policy Thereof in General, and Wherein it is Different from the Civil Policy” (emphasis mine). In the earliest Presbyterian book of discipline, its very first chapter was devoted to distinguishing civil power from “kirk” power. In this first chapter, the different powers of the civil and ecclesiastical governments were described, and the different jurisdictions of the two powers were also described, as in the citation below (emphases mine):The kirk of God is sometimes largely taken for all them that profess the gospel of Jesus Christ, and so it is a company and fellowship, not only of the godly, but also of hypocrites professing always outwardly a true religion. Other times it is taken for the godly and elect only; and sometimes for them that exercise spiritual function among the congregation of them that profess the truth.
The kirk in this last sense has a certain power granted by God, according to the which it uses a proper jurisdiction and government, exercised to the comfort of the whole kirk. This power ecclesiastical is an authority granted by God the Father, through the Mediator Jesus Christ, unto his kirk gathered, and having the ground in the word of God; to be put in execution by them unto whom the spiritual government of the kirk by lawful calling is committed.
The policy of the kirk flowing from this power is an order or form of spiritual government which is exercised by the members appointed thereto by the word of God; and therefore is given immediately to the office-bearers, by whom it is exercised to the weal of the whole body.…”In its joint power/authority, then, the church-officers exercise authority to edify “the congregation…to the comfort of the whole kirk… unto his kirk gathered…it is exercised to the weal of the whole body.” When officers gather to exercise their joint power, it is exclusively to edify the body, the congregation, the whole kirk, his kirk gathered, for the well-being of the whole body; it has no authority or jurisdiction over those who are not members of the visible church.
This description of church-power among church-rulers in the exercise of their “joint” powers therefore influenced subsequent church-bodies, such as my PCA, which contains this language in its Book of Church Order (all emphases mine):
1-5. Ecclesiastical jurisdiction is not a several, but a joint power, to be exercised by presbyters in courts. These courts may have jurisdiction over one or many churches, but they sustain such mutual relations as to realize the idea of the unity of the Church.
3-2. Ecclesiastical power, which is wholly spiritual, is twofold. The officers exercise it sometimes severally, as in preaching the Gospel, administering the Sacraments, reproving the erring, visiting the sick, and comforting the afflicted, which is the power of order; and they exercise it sometimes jointly in Church courts, after the form of judgment, which is the power of jurisdiction.
3-3. The sole functions of the Church, as a kingdom and government distinct from the civil commonwealth, are to proclaim, to administer, and to enforce the law of Christ revealed in the Scriptures.
3-4. The power of the Church is exclusively spiritual; that of the State includes the exercise of force. The constitution of the Church derives from divine revelation; the constitution of the State must be determined by human reason and the course of providential events. The Church has no right to construct or modify a government for the State, and the State has no right to frame a creed or polity for the Church. They are as planets moving in concentric orbits…
3-5. The Church, with its ordinances, officers and courts, is the agency which Christ has ordained for the edification and government of His people, for the propagation of the faith, and for the evangelization of the world.
3-6. The exercise of ecclesiastical power, whether joint or several, has the divine sanction when in conformity with the statutes enacted by Christ, the Lawgiver, and when put forth by courts or by officers appointed thereunto in His Word.
The consistent teaching of Presbyterian governments from 1578 to the present has been to restrict the exercise of its joint power to those within the church’s jurisdiction; and the consistent teaching of such Presbyterian governments has also been to distinguish church power and jurisdiction from civil power and jurisdiction. This distinction came to be known eventually as “the spirituality of the church,” and in his book on the matter, Dr. Alan D. Strange observes: “The idea, particularly as used by Charles Hodge, has to do with what might be called the ‘province of the church’—the nature and limits of its power.”[5] The joint power exercised by church courts has no jurisdiction over those who are not members of the church; and has no jurisdiction over those (the civil authorities) who do have jurisdiction over them. From 1578 until the founding of the PCA in 1973,[6] Presbyterian books of order consistently contrasted the powers and jurisdictions of church and state. None of those books contrasts church-power with medical power, or labor-union power, or NEA power, or any other power; those books of order only address the respective differences between the divinely-instituted powers of state and church (and family), to assure that the two are not confused. The restraints upon church-power in those constitutions only relate to the gathered officers of the church in what they do “jointly,” rather than severally. Charles Hodge had little fear of being contradicted, when he said, regarding the General Assembly of 1861 that had adopted the Gardner Spring resolutions that required primary loyalty to the federal government, rather than to the state governments:
“It is the doctrine of the Scriptures and of the Presbyterian Church, that the kingdom of Christ is not of this world; that it is not subject as to faith, worship, or discipline, to the authority of the state; and that it has no right to interfere with the state, or give ecclesiastical judgment in matters pertaining to state policy.”[7]
Nothing in these Presbyterian constitutions restrains the same officers, as individuals, from acting severally (although some Old School Presbyterians considered it bad form). Any preacher then or now could, for instance, preach on human sexuality, and sins against the same; gathered with other officers, however, his jurisdiction is limited to church-members, church-courts, and church agencies (which might include fraternal correspondence with other ecclesiastical bodies; I believe our 50th GA could properly have sent Overture 12 to other denominational bodies).In the grammar of WCF 31:4, there are four parts: two prohibitions, and two potential exceptions to the second of those prohibitions:
Prohibition 1: “Synods and councils are to handle, or conclude nothing, but that which is ecclesiastical”
Prohibition 2: “and are not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth.”
Potential exception 2a: “unless by way of humble petition in cases extraordinary”
Potential exception 2b: “by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate.”
The first prohibition does not merely prohibit the church from “concluding” anything that is not ecclesiastical; it also prohibits the church even from “handling” anything that is not “ecclesiastical.” Medical practices—whether surgical or pharmacological—are not “ecclesiastical,” by any recognized definition of the term. Webster offers three definitions of “ecclesiastical”:
“1. Of or relating to a church, especially as an organized institution. 2. Appropriate to a church or to use in a church. 3. Of or pertaining to the church; relating to the organization or government of the church; not secular.”
Could the gathered church-body adopt a constitutional amendment that bans its officers and members from performing certain surgeries or administering certain drugs? It certainly could, because it would be exercising its jurisdiction over the church members and officers. It has no jurisdiction over those who are not in the church, nor over those who do have jurisdiction over those who are not in the church.
The Presbytery of the Ascension exceeded its jurisdiction, therefore, when it instructed its clerk to send a communication to civil authorities in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania, advising them how to govern their citizens, whether church-members or not. Had Presbytery sent the Overture to the churches within its jurisdiction, it would have been acting well within the jurisdiction assigned to it (and, I may add, our Presbytery is ordinarily very circumspect about such jurisdictional matters).
The second prohibition is nearly absolute: “and are not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth.” That is, the first prohibition already restricted the church from considering anything “that is not ecclesiastical,” which, by itself, would bar it from considering matters that concern the commonwealth. To make the matter even more clear, however, the Assembly expressly added a negative qualification, “not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth.”
The second exception to the second prohibition (“…by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate…”) is now irrelevant, and it would not affect the confession if it disappeared entirely, because it is impossible now that any civil magistrate could ever require the advice of synods and councils, because there are entirely too many denominations of Christians.[8] It would be, therefore, administratively impossible for the magistrate to solicit the “advice” of synods and councils if there were not an official state church, so this second exception need not concern anyone, and is now moot.
The first exception to intermeddling in civil affairs is not, however, moot: “not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth, unless by way of humble petition in cases extraordinary.” In theory, this exception could indeed be exercised. Note, however, that it requires two conditions: “humble petition” and “in cases extraordinary.” The exception does not permit “humble petition” or extraordinary cases, but “humble petition” in such extraordinary cases. A “petition” is not “advice.” According to our two catechisms, there are six “petitions” in the Lord’s prayer, and indeed the word “petition” only appears in those places and here in WCF 31:4, so those two places are the only other examples of what the Assembly understood by the word “petition.” We do not “advise” God to hallow his name, bring his kingdom, provide our daily bread, etc., we “petition” him to do and provide these matters to us and for us. We do not advise him to forgive us; we petition him to forgive us. And, in each, we petition as a manifest inferior, to a superior who alone can provide for us what we would not otherwise attain. According to OED, “petition” is a fairly rare and formal form of request:
“1. The action of formally asking, begging, supplicating, or humbly requesting…2. A supplication or prayer; an entreaty, esp. a solemn prayer to the Deity. 3. A formally drawn up request or supplication, esp. a written supplication from an individual or body of inferiors to a superior, or to a person or body in authority (as a sovereign or legislature) soliciting some favour, privilege, right, or mercy, or the redress of some wrong or grievance.” (Parenthesis theirs).
OED’s second definition seems to be largely a religious prayer; their first and third definitions may pertain to our circumstances. What is implicit in “humbly” requesting in the first definition is specifically stated in the third, by mentioning a “body of inferiors to a superior.” We (the church) do not regard the church to be “inferiors” to the “superior” civil magistrates. Rather, we assent to something like the idea of “sphere sovereignty,” in which state, family, and church are equally authorized by God to act within their respective arenas. If the magistrate ordered parents to rear their children in a particular way, parents would have a right either to resist/disobey, or, to petition humbly the state to stay within its own bounds. If the magistrate ordered frequent (or infrequent) communion, churches would have the right to resist/disobey, and to petition humbly the state to abide within its own bounds. Parents need not “petition” the state to be parents or function as such; and churches need not “petition” the state to conduct the affairs of the church.
One could easily imagine an example of a “humble petition in cases extraordinary” that would satisfy the confession’s language. Churches in Nevada would have had every right to petition the state not to close churches during Covid while leaving the casinos open, or to prohibit them from serving the Lord’s supper if they were open. It would be “extraordinary” for any magistrate to favor non-ecclesiastical citizens over ecclesiastical citizens, or to prohibit ecclesiastical citizens from fulfilling their ecclesiastical duties, and it would be right to petition such a magistrate for our full rights, as A. A. Hodge said, “where the interests of the church are immediately concerned.” As citizens and as church-members, we had the first amendment right of both assembly and religion, and the state of Nevada abused its authority by permitting gamblers to assemble but not permitting religious citizens to assemble, and our assembling is indeed a matter that is “ecclesiastical,” and therefore consistent with the language of Confession of Faith 31:4. Church-members or church judicatories in any state during Covid had the right to petition the state to permit them to assemble and practice their religion. Meeting as a religious body certainly satisfies A. A. Hodge’s “where the interests of the church are immediately concerned.”
Our churches today already are sovereign within the ecclesiastical realm to instruct our members regarding biblical sexual ethics. The state currently permits us to declare that homosexuality is a sin, for instance, even though it permits gay people to marry; and yet does not require ministers to conduct such services if their conscience does not permit doing so. The state permits the church to teach parents not to assist in transgendering their children, and permits the church to teach physicians and surgeons who are church-members not to participate in such.
There is nothing “extraordinary” about governments governing, and nothing “extraordinary” about governments permitting behavior that is contrary to the ethics of Christian people. Gambling, for example, has ordinarily (and rightly) been regarded by Christian ethicists as contrary to the law of charity, because, in gambling, one can only win by another’s loss (and some Christian ethicists regarded it as an atheistic unbelief in polytheistic providence and/or a belief in Fate). Thousands of marriages and families are injured and often destroyed by legalized gambling, so its effects are indeed profoundly harmful, and if anything, it is “extraordinary” for civil governments to fund themselves partly from revenues made from such an evil practice, yet our General Assembly and Presbytery have not petitioned the cessation of such abuse of civil authority. It is not “extraordinary” that sinners sin (even Ms. Swift knows that “haters gonna hate…”), and the Westminster Assembly—with its strong doctrine of depravity–was entirely too wise to believe that sin—whether by individuals or by magistrates—was or is extraordinary.
One illustration of why A. A. Hodge’s interpretation is the better interpretation of WCF 31:4 is this: to ask whether we would have been negligent in our task had we not considered Overture 12 at all. When we look at Assembly’s other tasks—supervising church-planting domestically, overseeing foreign missions, assuring that the administrative office of the denomination has the resources needed to do its work, reviewing records of the various Presbyteries—we would likely conclude that if we had not done such things, we would have failed to fulfill our responsibility. Now ask the same question regarding Overture 12: Had the Overture not ever been written by Evangel Presbytery, nor been considered at all by the Assembly, would we have failed to fulfill our responsibility? I believe even the strongest proponents of Overture 12 would answer this in the negative. To ask “May we address Overture 12 (or others like it)” is very different from asking “Need we address Overture 12 (or others like it).”
Private citizens, church-members or not, especially in a democratic republic, have every right not only to petition, but to advise their elected representatives. Christian individual citizens, qua individual citizens, have every right to send an Overture such as the one endorsed by the General Assembly and Ascension Presbytery to their elected representatives. The Westminster Assembly placed no restriction on the rights of private citizens (other than to obey the “lawful commands” of the magistrate); it did, however, expressly prohibit “synods and councils” from “handling” or “concluding” civil matters which concern the commonwealth. If our church courts do not discipline themselves by the instructions of WCF 31:4 now, we will likely become like the mainline Presbyterian body from which we came, expending ever-increasing time and energy advising magistrates, and expending decreasing time and energy shepherding the flock of Christ.
II.Practical Considerations
At this point, I remain persuaded that synods and councils (church-officers gathered to exercise joint power in jurisdiction) are “to handle, or conclude nothing, but that which is ecclesiastical: and are not to intermeddle with civil affairs which concern the commonwealth…”, and so the matter is decided for me on constitutional grounds, noted above. However, I observe that some officers are less confident than I am about what WCF 31:4 says, and/or less confident than I am about what “cases extraordinary” means.[9] Such individuals might be aided by considering practical considerations, and so I include a few thoughts about the matter in three areas: what is the practical effect on the civil magistrates, what is the practical effect on the churches, and what is the practical effect on the confidence people have about the church-courts.
A. Practical effect of synodical overtures to the civil magistrate
If the civil magistrate desires our advice or counsel, he may solicit it, and WCF 31:4 would permit us to answer him: “or, by way of advice, for satisfaction of conscience, if they be thereunto required by the civil magistrate.” The Westminster Assembly itself was called to assemble by an act of Parliament, which wished for its advice about how to “vindicate” the doctrines of the Church of England. Westminster met for nearly five years, framing two catechisms, a confession of faith, the solemn league and covenant, and the directory for worship. The magistrate had required such, and the assembly provided such. If any civil magistrate today “required” the counsel of any of our church courts—Session, Presbytery, or General Assembly—WCF 31:4 would permit our reply. But those magistrates do not (and, in all likelihood, will not) “require” our counsel. To provide unrequested counsel to the magistrate will do no good for the civil magistrates, practically speaking, for the following reason.
In our American experiment with first amendment issues, magistrates desire to be re-elected, and they know that their constituency is a blend of irreligious and religious citizens, and that even the religious ones often embrace differing religions (e.g. Islam, Judaism, Christianity), and they will studiously avoid/evade angering their constituency by favoring some citizens over other citizens. They need not and should not give their Christian citizens special consideration. What they care about is opinion polls, many/most of which do not distinguish religious from irreligious citizens.
I honestly believe that no one, whether in our Ascension Presbytery or anywhere else, believes that unsolicited ecclesiastical overtures to the magistrate are likely to have any effect at all on the governing process. Congressmen, for example, who are professing Christians (such as Sen. Ben Sasse until he ran afoul of MAGA and did not seek re-election) will solicit the private counsel of pastors and elders anyway, and those who do not solicit it are unlikely to care about it; after all, they did not care enough to solicit it.
B. Practical effect of synodical overtures on the church. Regrettably, such overtures do have a substantial effect on the church, and the effect is all negative.
First, substantial energy and man-hours of labor (such as what I am expending right now explaining myself and you are expending reading this explanation) are expended at GA and Presbytery, some of which, almost always, rightly wrestle with WCF 31:4. Then, additional energy is expended in committee somewhere, then on the floor, sometimes attended later by dissents and protests that take time to compose and take man-hours of deliberation by the courts to determine whether they have been couched in temperate language and respectful to the court, and whether the court wishes to reply to the dissent or protest. All of these man-hours of energy are expended by those who have vowed to serve the church (not necessarily the magistrate, or, collectively, the “commonwealth”), which is man-hours of energy, by necessary arithmetic, that are not employed to serve the church or the flock.
Second, such overtures necessarily strain the good-will and affection within the church-courts. It is inevitable that Sessions, Presbyteries, and General Assemblies will have to wrestle with WCF 31:4; however an individual interprets it, any reasoning person realizes that, prima facie, such overtures are clearly and doubly prohibited unless they satisfy one of the two exceptions, so we inevitably find ourselves wrestling with the meaning of “cases extraordinary,” knowing ahead of time that some, such as myself, have a more-objective understanding of “extraordinary,” (that of A. A. Hodge, surely informed by his father’s protest of the Spring Resolutions of 1861) and others have a more-subjective understanding of the same term, and that they rarely persuade one another.[10] Often, of course, the grace of the Holy Spirit preserves Christian fellowship and brotherhood, for which we are all thankful, but dealing with that same unresolved issue, year after year, time after time, does indeed strain (but not break) the bonds of Christian fellowship. Other NAPARC communions have tended to settle the interpretation of WCF 31:4 as A. A. Hodge had settled it, so they rarely expend time debating its meaning. The PCA enjoys no such consensus, and 42% of the delegates were likely frustrated by the time expended on a matter that does not fall under the church’s purview at all.[11]
C. Drafting and sending such overtures erodes somewhat the public confidence in the courts of the church. It does not destroy such confidence entirely, but it does erode it or weaken it. When an entire General Assembly or Presbytery cannot even discern what its own Confession of Faith says (in this case, WCF 31:4), or what “ecclesiastical” means, people will understandably lose some of their confidence in our ability to govern in accord with our standards. When we effectively say, by our actions and deliberations, that we do not know what WCF 31:4 means (or that only 42% of us do?), how can we fulfill our vows to govern the churches consistently with our confessional standards? Similarly, many thoughtful observers of the actions of Presbytery and General Assembly find their confidence in the courts eroded by the apparent arbitrariness of such Overtures. Why do we overture the magistrate about some matters that affect the commonwealth, but not others? Why did we/do we say nothing about the fentanyl crisis that ruins many lives? Why do we not alert magistrates about children who die of cancer, and encourage the magistrate to address the matter? Why have we not told magistrates to cease using the sinful, addictive and destructive practice of gambling as a means of raising revenue? In one of our extremely arbitrary moments as a denomination, we debated overtures regarding women in the military for several years, but sent no overtures regarding whether wars in Kuwait, Iraq, or Afghanistan satisfied Just War Theory; we had nothing to say about whether we should be engaged in a particular war, but were very concerned that women not serve in them, even in a supportive role such as quartermaster. Secular observers might have been forgiven for regarding this as straining out gnats while swallowing camels. There are many matters that affect the commonwealth (our fellow-citizens) that are very important (extraordinary?); why do we address some of them, but not the others? The perceived arbitrariness with which we address some of those matters but not others erodes the confidence of many impartial observers, both within and without the church.
Perhaps the worse aspect of confidence in the courts of the church is due to this: while we do not intend it, our expending so much energy and effort addressing civil matters may suggest to many that we do not regard our own ecclesiastical work to be important enough to be justified on its own merits. By expending so much time and effort, at considerable strain on goodwill, to achieve nothing helpful to the magistrate and lose so much for ourselves, we implicitly say that the only thing that is important is what the civil magistrate does, and that “ecclesiastical” matters alone are not worthy of our concentrated and exclusive effort. I hope that not many observers notice this, but I know that I do, and it disheartens me.
Summary of Practical Considerations
There is no trade-off here, where the magistrates (or those they govern) gain something and the churches lose something; the magistrate gains nothing by these overtures, and the churches lose a great deal of time, a great deal of energy, a straining of brotherly fellowship, and an erosion of confidence in our ability to govern the churches. No one wins and the church loses. On practical grounds alone, therefore, I believe all such overtures that address the civil magistrate are unprofitable (practically) and unconstitutional, and we should follow the examples of the other NAPARC churches, who ordinarily do not expend ecclesiastical energy on such fruitless tasks.
III. Historical consideration: Charles Hodge’s Protest of the Gardiner Spring Resolutions[12]
One of the remarkable things about the Presbyterian church in the early-to-mid nineteenth century was its relative peace, within a culture that was deeply torn about how the border states might affect the Union. The precarious balance that had existed for the first fifty years of the Republic between slave-holding states and non-slave-holding states was now threatened, as each of the new territories sought statehood. The “Missouri Compromise” of 1820 was an attempt to negotiate this delicate matter, and subsequent decades tested whether this particular glue would continue to bind the states. Within the Presbyterian church at the time, strong opinions were held by individuals who were abolitionist or not, but the peace of the Presbyterian church was maintained, largely because WCF 31:4 prohibited its synods and councils from intermeddling with civil affairs that concern the commonwealth.
The Gardiner Spring Resolutions of 1861 destroyed the Presbyterian church’s unity, and precipitated the formation the next year of the Presbyterian Church in the Confederate States of America. The two resolutions, with their explanatory note, were these:
1. Resolved, That in view of the present agitated and unhappy condition of this country, the first day of July next be hereby set apart as a day of prayer throughout our bounds; and that on that day ministers and people are called on humbly to confess and bewail our national sins; to offer our thanks to the Father of light for his abundant and undeserved goodness to us as a nation; to seek his guidance and blessing upon our rulers and their counsels, as well as on the Congress of the United States about to assemble; and to implore Him, in the name of Jesus Christ, the great High Priest of the Christian profession, to turn away his anger from us, and speedily restore to us the blessings of an honorable peace.
2. Resolved, That this General Assembly, in the spirit of that Christian patriotism which the Scriptures enjoin, and which has always characterized this Church, do hereby acknowledge and declare our obligations to promote and perpetuate, so far as in us lies, the integrity of these United States, and to strengthen, uphold, and encourage the Federal Government in the exercise of all its functions under our noble Constitution; and to this Constitution in all its provisions, requirements, and principles, we profess our unabated loyalty.
And to avoid all misconception, the Assembly declare that by the terms “Federal Government,” as here used, is not meant any particular administration, or the peculiar opinions of any particular party, but that central administration, which being at any time appointed and inaugurated according to the forms prescribed in the Constitution of the United States, is the visible representative of our national existence.” (Italics mine)
While much of the content of the Spring Resolutions would have been of general assent, the italicized portions settled, in thesis, the very question then debated: Whether the “authorities that be” of Romans 13, to whom submission was owed by all Christians, was the federal government, or the several (originally 13) state governments, who had entered this federal arrangement as themselves sovereign states. When Robert E. Lee was offered command of the Army of the Potomac by Gen. Winfield Scott, for instance, his reply was that the Virginia legislature had not yet met, to determine whether to remain in the Union or to secede, and he would need to await their decision before he made his decision either to remain in the United States Army or to retire from it. Lee had served for 25 years in the Army, and much of that service was under the leadership of Gen. Winfield Scott, whom he greatly admired, saying, “To no one, general, have I been as much indebted as to yourself for uniform kindness and consideration…Save in the defense of my native State, I never desire again to draw my sword.” Lee did retire, and two days later received a commission to lead the Army of Northern Virginia, in which duty he did again draw his sword in the defense of his native state.
When Charles Hodge learned of the passage of the Spring Resolutions, he went (to put it mildly) ballistic:
“We make this protest, not because we do not acknowledge loyalty to our country to be a moral and religious duty, according to the word of God, which requires us to be subject to the powers that be; nor because we deny the right of the Assembly to enjoin that, and all other like duties, on the ministers and churches under its care; but because we deny the right of the General Assembly to decide the political question, to what government the allegiance of Presbyterians as citizens is due, and its rights to make that decision a condition of membership in our Church.… It is, however, a notorious fact, that many of our ministers and members conscientiously believe that the allegiance of the citizens of this country is primarily due to the States to which they respectively belong; and, therefore, that when any State renounces its connection with the United States, and its allegiance to the Constitution, the citizens of that State are bound by the laws of God to continue loyal to their State, and obedient to its laws. The paper adopted by the Assembly virtually declares, on the other hand, that the allegiance of the citizens is due to the United States; anything in the Constitution, or ordinances, or laws of the several States to the contrary notwithstanding.… in adopting this paper, therefore, the Assembly does decide the great political question which agitates and divides the country.…this is a matter clearly beyond the jurisdiction of the Assembly.… The General Assembly in thus deciding a political question, and in making that decision practically a condition of membership to the Church, has, in our judgment, violated the Constitution of the Church, and usurped the prerogative of its Divine Master. We protest loudly against the action of the Assembly, because it is a departure from all its previous actions” (emphases mine).[13]
For our purposes, it is primarily important to understand both the intensity of Hodge’s protest against the Spring Resolutions, and the likelihood that his view influenced the view of his son, Archibald Alexander Hodge. Therefore, in our earlier discussion of A. A. Hodge’s interpretation of “cases extraordinary” in WCF 31:4, although what he said there was fairly brief, the brevity was probably due to the fact that any readers of his commentary would have known what he intended by “in extraordinary cases, where the interests of the church are immediately concerned, by the way of humble petition.” Neither he nor his father would have denied that the moral question of the African slave trade was “extraordinary,” nor would either have denied the profound social or cultural influence of the same. What both affirmed, however, was that it would be “extraordinary” for the synods of the church to exceed their jurisdiction over the various churches by intermeddling in affairs that properly belonged to the civil magistrate. That is, A. A. Hodge’s narrow/jurisdictional/ecclesiastical interpretation of “cases extraordinary” in WCF 31:4 is illuminated, in part, by his father’s strong protest against the Assembly’s 1861 adoption of the Spring Resolutions, which were not “extraordinary” for their concern over Christian ethics, but “extraordinary” for synods and councils addressing matters that belonged to the jurisdiction of the civil magistrate. What is “ordinary” is for the three God-ordained institutions of family, state, and church to respect the jurisdictions of one another; what is “extraordinary,” therefore, is when one or more of them exceeds its divinely-ordered jurisdiction.
Following the adoption of the Spring Resolutions and the founding of the Presbyterian Church in the Confederate States of America, the Old School constituency (Charles Hodge et al.) in the northern Presbyterian church became a minority, and that ecclesiastical body continued to intermeddle in civil affairs and to decline in orthodoxy, so that, by 1871, one decade after adopting the Spring resolutions, it re-united with the previous New School Presbyterians, even though not one of the matters that had previously divided them in 1837 was addressed. A memorial volume of the reunion of the two denominations was printed,[14] and not one of the dividing issues in 1837 is addressed therein, much less resolved; Old School Presbyterianism simply disappeared in the north. The first two chapters contain reviews, respectively of the Old and New schools, the next two contain “Biographical Sketches” of both, and the fifth (of only seven) addressed “The Reunion.” Tellingly, the first two sentences of that chapter read as follows:
“Many of those who were leaders on both sides of the time of the disruption had either passed from this life, or had entered into other ecclesiastical relations.[15] Personal prejudices, those most powerful agencies in producing the separation, were thus to a large degree eliminated from the question.”[16]
Note, then, in this remarkable introduction to the reunion itself, that the “disruption” was attributed not to real, important issues of theology and/or ecclesiology, but to “personal prejudices,” which were, ostensibly, responsible for “producing the separation.” Better yet, such responsible individuals “had either passed from this life, or had entered into other ecclesiastical relations.” How droll. The entire northern Presbyterian communion had now become New School, within a decade of its adoption of the Spring resolutions, after which it declined to the point that within a half-century it defrocked J. Gresham Machen.
My concern, which provoked my drafting my only protest of any action of the Presbytery of the Ascension, was that the precipitating event that made the northern Presbyterian church the liberal church it quickly became, was the adoption of the Spring resolutions in 1861, by which, according to Charles Hodge, it acted “clearly beyond the jurisdiction of the Assembly… violated the Constitution of the Church, and usurped the prerogative of its Divine Master.” In American Presbyterian history, intermeddling with civil affairs that concern the commonwealth (aka political activism) has always led to theological liberalism. I am not predicting that the adoption of Overture 12 by the 50th General Assembly, or its adoption by many presbyteries, will lead the PCA in the same direction. I was and am disturbed, however, by the ease with which Confession of Faith 31:4 was either so breezily dismissed, or its interpretation by two generations of Hodges was so easily ignored.
David Gordon is a Minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and was professor of religion and Greek at Grove City College for more than twenty years before he retired. He is the author of Choose Better: Five Biblical Models for Making Ethical Decisions.[1] It is likely that the entirety of the General Assembly agreed that trans-gendering procedures for children are grievous sins. The vote to approve Overture 12 would likely have been unanimous, therefore, had the Overture not included the language of communicating this to the civil authorities, and/or had the procedural motion not instructed the Moderator to appoint a Commission to re-word the Overture. The vote itself (1,089-793) reflects that nearly 40% of the Assembly may have disapproved the Overture on one ground or another. It is also possible that addressing the cultural “world,” rather than addressing the church, may be thought of by some as flirting with disagreeing with the apostle Paul, who said, “For what have I to do with judging outsiders? Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? God judges those outside.” (1 Cor. 5:12-13).
[2] With the possible exception of several smaller Presbyterian communions, such as the ARP and the RPCNA. I am not a student of their constitutional histories, but I do know that the RPCNA adopts the 1647 version of the standards, not the later 1787 version.
[3] The Confession of Faith: A Handbook of Christian Doctrine Expounding the Westminster Confession, 1869, rpt. (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, 1958), p. 377-378, emphases mine. Cf. Also Dr. R. Scott Clark, “‘Cases Extraordinary,’ The Spirituality of the Church, and the Trans Crisis,” March 30, 2023, https://heidelblog.net/2023/03/cases-extraordinary-the-spirituality-of-the-church-and-the-trans-crisis/.
[4] If I am not mistaken, many within our communion take “cases extraordinary” to mean something like “when sins are especially or unusually heinous.” Our standards do recognize the category of “heinous,” which is used in the question and answer of Shorter Catechism 83, and in the questions and answers to LC 150/151, the latter of which employs 261 words to address “aggravations” that make some sins “more heinous” than others. If this is indeed how some understand “extraordinary” in WCF 31:4, that we may address the magistrate in his oversight of citizens when the behavior in question has “aggravations” that make it more “heinous” than other sins, I would be willing to entertain the argument. The argument, however, would face difficulties. If, by “extraordinary,” the Assembly intended “heinous,” then why did they not use that language? Also, would the civil magistrate (or we) have ability or authority to address such matters as “…greater experience or grace… if immediately against God, his attributes, and worship… against Christ, and his grace; the Holy Spirit, his witness, and workings… our prayers, purposes, promises, vows, covenants, and engagements to God or men… if on the Lord’s day, or other times of divine worship…” The Assembly appears here to address a practical and pastoral matter, to alert us about the aspects of sin that are “more heinous in the sight of God than others.” Neither civil nor ecclesiastical authorities would have the ability to discern some of these matters, though it would be very valuable for individuals to use such guidance in examining their own behavior. A. A. Hodge’s understanding of “extraordinary,” while still requiring some act of judgment and wisdom, is much more manageable, to describe circumstances when the God-ordained civil authority oversteps his provenance into the God-ordained ecclesiastical authority: “where the interests of the church are immediately concerned.”
[5] Alan D. Strange, Empowered Witness: Politics, Culture, and the Spiritual Mission of the Church (Crossway, 2024), p. 39. This book has not yet been printed, but I was able to obtain a Kindle version recently, and the print version will appear soon. Cf. also Strange’s The Doctrine of the Spirituality of the Church in the Ecclesiology of Charles Hodge, Reformed Academic Dissertations (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2017). Strange also observes that three differing understandings of the spirituality of the church emerged among Old School Presbyterians: a northern view, a southern view, and a border-states view.
[6] I am insufficiently informed or persuaded that the EPC Book of Order continues this tradition or not; there is evidence of distinguishing church power from civil power there (BOG 2-3, 3-1), but less compelling evidence of its awareness of the distinction of joint and several power (BOG 3-3), so I did not extend the date to the EPC’s founding in 1982, but chose instead to end it at the date of the PCA’s founding in 1973.
[7] Cited in Alan D. Strange, Empowered Witness, op. cit., p. 82.
[8] There are twelve NAPARC communions alone, three large Lutheran bodies (WELS is as large as the PCA, and Missouri Synod is four times the size of the NAPARC churches combined), and Baptist denominations reproduce as frequently as do the Presbyterian ones.
[9] Such officers, unsure about what WCF 31:4 says, ought, however, to have abstained. If a church-officer is unsure whether an act is lawful or not, he surely should not vote on the matter until he is more sure.
[10] While Overture 12 was adopted by the 2023 General Assembly, the vote was 1,089 to 793; 42% of the delegates disapproved sending the overture to civil magistrates, even though probably every delegate agreed with the overture for its substance. Some disapproved of what they perceived as intermeddling in affairs that concern the commonwealth; others disapproved of the peculiar (if not unique) procedure of instructing the Moderator to appoint a commission to edit and/or rewrite the Overture. Had Overture 12 not been addressed to the civil authorities, but recommended as counsel for presbyteries and sessions, it would likely have passed unanimously, and not needed a commission to refine it. Dr. Sean Lucas spoke eloquently to this point on the floor of the Assembly.
[11] Our PCA already expends entirely too much time entertaining BCO revisions on an annual basis. Some other communions permit such amendments only on years that end with a five or a zero, and others await a motion to revise the entire book, ordinarily only after several decades of dis-satisfaction with the book. This, too, strains goodwill and patience, so we hardly need to strain goodwill and patience further by proposing and entertaining overtures that address the civil magistrate.
[12] It is one of the many paradoxes of church history that Gardiner Spring is now remembered (if at all) for his resolutions that fractured the church into two branches (northern and southern), drove many northern churches into affiliation with the southern church, and led inevitably to the exodus of all of the Old School Presbyterians within a decade, when the OS and NS reunited, leading to the inevitable decline in orthodoxy of the entire northern Presbyterian church, which, unsurprisingly, within a half-century defrocked J. Gresham Machen. I say “paradoxes,” because, had it not been for his eponymous resolutions, he would have been remembered as one of the great pastors in American history. He served the Brick Church in New York City for a remarkable 63 years, and was highly regarded in that role. He declined offers of the presidency from both Hamilton College and Dartmouth College, and served on the Board of Princeton Theological Seminary and as a trustee of Lafayette College. He also attended the judicatories of Presbytery and General Assembly, and wrote learnedly on various theological topics. His book on the atonement (appropriately titled The Attraction of the Cross) remains a classic, winsome statement of orthodox theology on the matter, and ministers and ministerial candidates today still benefit from reading his excellent The Power of the Pulpit. How tragic that such a devout, capable, and fruitful minister is now remembered for the only wrong-headed thing he ever did.
[13] For a thorough analysis of the Spring Resolutions, and especially of Hodge’s protest, cf. Alan D. Strange, Empowered Witness: Politics, Culture, and the Spiritual Mission of the Church (Crossway: 2024), especially the section on “The 1861 General Assembly,” pp. 69-78.
[14] Presbyterian Reunion: A Memorial Volume. 1837-1871. New York: De Witt C. Lent & Company, 1870).
[15] Probably an oblique reference to the fact that some had left the northern church to join their Old School sympathizers in the Presbyterian Church of the Confederate States of America.
[16] Presbyterian Reunion, op. cit., p. 247.
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The Bible’s Family Trees
In Genesis 12, God chooses Abraham from the midst of the nations — or, more specifically, from the midst of the descendants of Shem. God does not, however, simply give Abraham the same command he gave to Adam and Noah. Instead, he gives Abraham a promise: “I will make you exceedingly fruitful,” he says (Genesis 17:6), which is exactly what he does. And so, as Abraham’s generations unfold, they recapitulate the structure of Genesis 1–11.
Genealogies matter. The biblical narrative is fundamentally a record of events — births, deaths, kings enthroned, kings deposed, covenants made, covenants broken, and so on. The Bible’s genealogies are the backdrop against which these events unfold. As such, they are a basic part of the fabric of Scripture. They tell us when events happen and who is involved in them. And, by extension, they often give us clues as to why.
But before we dive into the (sometimes murky) details of the Bible’s genealogies, it will be helpful for us to consider them in broader redemptive terms.
Forming, Naming, Filling
At the outset of the biblical story, God creates the heavens and the earth. They start out like a blank canvas, formless and empty (Genesis 1:1). Then, over the course of six days, God carries out three important types of activities: he adds form to what he has made (e.g., by the division of night and day); he names what he has formed; and, last of all, he fills what he has formed (e.g., the day with the sun; the night with the moon and stars).
Afterward, God commissions man to continue his activities. More specifically, God commands man to be fruitful and multiply and to fill and subdue the earth (Genesis 1:28). The Bible’s genealogies are thus firmly anchored in the events of Genesis 1. They are a record of how and to what extent mankind lives out God’s commission as he forms, names, and fills God’s creation.
Genesis 1–11 Redux
In Genesis 4, Eve forms three children and assigns to each of them a name.1 “I have [formed] a man with the help of the Lord,” she says after Cain’s birth (Genesis 4:1). (The verb “formed” — Hebrew kanah — is generally translated as “acquired” in this verse, but it often means “formed”; indeed, it is the verb used in Psalm 139:13, where David says to God, “You formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.”) Needless to say, Eve’s statement about the world’s first childbirth is significant. Like God, Eve adds form to what is formless, as her daughters have done ever since.
In the aftermath of Abel’s death, the lines of Cain and Seth begin to fill the earth. To some extent, the two lines unfold in parallel. For instance, both culminate in a threefold division — in Cain’s case with Jabal, Jubal, and Tubal-Cain (Genesis 4:20–22), and in Seth’s with Shem, Ham, and Japheth (Genesis 5:32). And before that, each line reaches a mini-climax in the rise of a Lamech, who is a man of sevens. Cain’s Lamech is the seventh from Adam, heads up a family of seven (him, his two wives, his three sons, and his daughter), and says his death will be repaid with a seventy-sevenfold vengeance (Genesis 4:24). Meanwhile, Seth’s Lamech lives for seven hundred and seventy-seven years (Genesis 5:31), and he fathers Noah — the life of a man of eights who heads up a family of eight (1 Peter 3:20). Hence, while Cain’s line is terminated by the flood, Seth’s lives on to inhabit a new creation.
In the aftermath of the flood, the descendants of Shem, Ham, and Japheth begin to multiply and fill the earth (in answer to a repeat of God’s command in Genesis 9:1). The result is the “Table of Nations” in Genesis 10.
Then, in Genesis 12, God chooses Abraham from the midst of the nations — or, more specifically, from the midst of the descendants of Shem. God does not, however, simply give Abraham the same command he gave to Adam and Noah. Instead, he gives Abraham a promise: “I will make you exceedingly fruitful,” he says (Genesis 17:6), which is exactly what he does. And so, as Abraham’s generations unfold, they recapitulate the structure of Genesis 1–11.
The events of Genesis 1 establish a twelve/thirteenfold structure composed of six environments (night, day, heaven, earth, sea, and land, formed on days one to three) filled by six created things (moon/stars, sun, birds, animals, fish, and humans, created on days four to six), or seven if we count plants (created on day three).2 In answer, the branches of Abraham’s family tree yield an array of twelve/thirteenfold generations: Nahor’s line opens into a generation of twelve (Genesis 22:21–24), as do Ishmael’s (Genesis 25:12–16) and Esau’s,3 and, last of all, Jacob’s line opens into a generation of twelve, or thirteen if we count Joseph’s sons (Genesis 48:5).
Meanwhile, just as the lines of Cain and Seth emerge from a background of three streams and divide into three streams, so too does the line of Abraham: Abraham is one of three sons, and his posterity divides into the sons of Hagar, Sarah, and Keturah (Genesis 11:27–28).
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Pastor, You Don’t Have A Job
Written by T. M. Suffield |
Saturday, September 16, 2023
If you spend your days in prayer, in the Bible, walking the hills, visiting the sick, dreaming about the future, and gazing on Jesus’ face? That is ministry. If you then spend the occasional day and your evenings and weekends weeping with those who weep, rejoicing with those who rejoice, enjoying life around the table with friends, and releasing others to do what Jesus did? That too is ministry.Pastors hate being told that don’t have a real job—the old joke being that you only have to work one day a week. The thing is, it’s more true than you think.
I’ve been an elder in a couple of churches for around ten years now. Which makes me pretty green in the pastoral stakes, but not completely new to the game. I’ve not been a salaried elder in that time, though my ecclesiology makes me just as much a ‘Pastor’ or ‘ordained’ as those that have been. For ease in this post though I’ve used ‘pastor’ to distinguish those elders that are paid by their churches.
Churches have to follow all the same employment law as anyone else. Your trustees, or however that works in your setting, will have to ensure they are following the law. Someone has to sort payroll, make sure employment rights aren’t breached and all those things. That’s important, because it’s the law. I also think churches should be the very best employers around, following kingdom employment values rather the World’s. Your encouragement to your people to start businesses and employ people well will fall very flat if the church is a terrible employer.
But, in the midst of all that, I think it’s important that whatever the technical legal situation might be, no one thinks the Pastor or Pastors have jobs. Or salaries for that matter.
It is, I would contend, better to think in terms of stipends to cover the costs of living—which means whatever it costs to live in the area your church needs your pastor to live. It may be more than the median income if you expect him to have a slightly larger house so he can host large groups and meetings there, which is something you’d often expect him to be doing.
There’s not a legal difference here, by the way, not least in the UK anyway. You pay the same tax on a stipend to a salary, but I’m talking about the way that changing terms can (slowly) change thinking.
As a small detour, there is an argument in here for paying all of your staff the same amount. Becoming a Pastor from some other church role isn’t career advancement, it’s a release to follow the call of God on your life. Pay them all what’s needed to live, perhaps plus a housing allowance or similar for those who you require certain things of, and let them get on with releasing the people into ministry.
Not doing ministry, but that’s another story.
Why is this helpful? Because if you think you have a job you tend to think about contracted hours and about productivity.
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