The Household Baptist
The Apostle Paul made clear in 1 Corinthians 7:14 that the children of even one professing believer are covenantally set apart to God as members of the visible church. If we limit the covenant sign to the infants of believers, then we inadvertently limit the scope of the New Covenant and the inclusion of the family members of the household of new professing believers.
I was baptized in the Reformed Episcopal church. I grew up in Reformed and Presbyterian churches. My father diligently taught my sister and I the distinctives of a Reformed covenant theology from our earliest days. He repeatedly reminded us that God had promised to be a covenant God to us and to our descendants after us. I believe those promises now for my own children. However, I have something of an aversion to the term paedobaptist (i.e. infant baptist). I don’t prefer the terminology because I believe it to be too restictive in nature. I much prefer the term oikobaptist (i.e. household baptist) for a number of biblical and theological reasons. In this post, I want to share a few of those reasons why I call myself a household baptist.
When God promised Abraham that He would be a God to him and to his descendants after him, he gave Abraham the covenant sign of circumcision. He then commanded Abraham to give the covenant sign to all the males in his house when they were just eight days old. There are a number of redemptive historical details about this arrangement.
First, the sign of circumcision went on the reproductive organ of the male child because it signified that the corruption of the sin nature that was passed on generationally by federal representation from our first father—Adam—could only be dealt with by an act of bloody judgment. This pointed to the bloody judgment of the cross which the Apostle Paul called the circumcision of Christ.
Second, God commanded Abraham to give the covenant sign of circumcision to his offspring on the eighth day. Contrary to the naturalistic explanations that many have sough to advance concerning a high rate of blood clotting, the eight day represented the new creation. On a seven day week, the first and the eighth day are one and the same. Just as the first day represented creation, the eighth day—in the law—represented the new creation that would be secured by Christ crucified. When Jesus cleansed the hearts of his people by virtue of his bloody circumcision on the cross (an act also termed circumcision of the heart in Scripture) he brings about the new creation through their regeneration.
Third, the covenant sign of circumcision denoted the promise of blessing and cursing. Either the one who was circumcised would have the filth of his heart cut away (i.e. regeneration) or he would be cut off in judgment as a covenant breaker. The judgment that fell on Christ would fall on all who were not trusting in the coming Redeemer. This is the same thing represented by the waters of baptism. Just as Noah and those with him were typically saved as through water, and all those who did not believe were destroyed by the same water, so circumcision and baptism represent the promise of blessings and curses.
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How Romans 8 Made Me a Calvinist
God does more than just influence—he predestines. That’s why all things will work together for the good of the called, and Christ will be the firstborn among many brothers (Rom. 8:29). God is in charge. The outcome is secure. And that, my friends, is a guarantee.
To this day, whenever I stand behind a pulpit and say things like “All true saints will persevere to the end and none will be lost,” I still have to pinch myself. I laugh inwardly and think, What would the 22-year-old me say if he could hear me now?
You see, I wasn’t always a Calvinist.
I was raised a classical Arminian in the Free Will Baptist tradition. As a teenager, I cut my teeth on theologians like F. Leroy Forlines and J. Matthew Pinson, along with older divines like James Arminius and John Wesley. As a 22-year-old man, I believed and taught that grace was always necessary but never irresistible, and that genuine Christians could abandon Christ and forfeit their justified status.
Beneath these beliefs lay a view of the God/man relationship that went like this: humans were created to exist in a loving relationship with God. The nature of that loving relationship requires a free—and undetermined—response on our part. To quote Forlines, I saw God working with man in an “influence-and-response relationship” rather than a “cause-and-effect relationship” (like the Calvinists thought). God could influence us, but he respected our personhood by always leaving the final decision up to us. And God did this, not because he was weak, but because this was how he meant for the relationship to work.
And in case you’re wondering, the difference between a God who influences and a God who causes can be summed up in one word: guarantee. Forlines puts it this way in his book The Quest for Truth:
I think the description of God’s relationship to man that Calvinists would give would be much like my description of influence and response. However, the result is thought to be guaranteed…Any time the result is guaranteed, we are dealing with cause and effect. When the guarantee is gone, Calvinism is gone.
He’s right. I agreed with him then; I agree with him now. I’ve simply changed sides. So what happened? The short answer is I ran up against Romans 8:28–30.
Passionate Preacher, Problem Passage
Romans 8:28–30 is often referred to as “the golden chain of redemption”—so called because of its five “links” of divine foreknowing, predestining, calling, justifying, and glorifying.
As an Arminian, I saw Romans 8:28–30 as a problem passage. Verse 29 was definitely a key prooftext for election-based-on-foreseen-faith. But the rest was difficult. I knew what my preferred commentators said about it, but I’d never been fully satisfied. So I chalked it up to an anomaly. After all, no theological system explains everything perfectly.
Then I started listening to John Piper’s sermons on Romans, and my world was unmade. It was 2004, I was 22, and I had never heard such preaching. His meticulous exposition exposed all the weaknesses I already sensed in my interpretation of the passage, while uncovering some new ones. I can’t say I emerged from those sermons a convinced Calvinist. But my confidence was severely shaken. And eventually I came to realize that Paul’s golden chain, like Calvinism, was very much about a guarantee.
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Explaining the Empty Tomb
The sheer number of witnesses to the risen Christ is overwhelming. Peter had himself seen the risen Christ. The other apostles had seen Jesus alive after His crucifixion. The apostle Paul gives us a witness list: “[Jesus] was seen by Cephas, then by the twelve. After that He was seen by over five hundred brethren at once, of whom the greater part remain to the present, but some have fallen asleep. After that He was seen by James, then by all the apostles. Then last of all He was seen by me also, as by one born out of due time” (1 Corinthians 15:5–8). Having presented irrefutable and insurmountable evidence, Peter pulls it all together with a closing argument.
The third day He rose again from the dead – The Apostles’ Creed
I enjoy mystery novels. One of my favorite genres is the legal thriller that combines mystery with courtroom drama. In legal thrillers the verdict is based on evidence brought forth. That evidence needs to be unearthed and presented in such a way that the narrative makes sense and adequately accounts for all the facts.
We can take this approach to verifying Jesus’ resurrection from the grave. In fact, that is the approach Peter takes in his sermon to the crowd gathered in Jerusalem for the feast of Pentecost following Christ’s resurrection. People had traveled from all over for the occasion. They were abuzz with recent events, events that made that Pentecost like no other. In his sermon in Acts 2 Peter brings to bear four strands of evidence that lead to an inescapable conclusion.
The Man
Peter begins by pointing to Jesus, particularly as one distinguished by God. “Men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a Man attested by God to you by miracles, wonders, and signs which God did through Him in your midst, as you yourselves also know” (Acts 2:22). Peter highlights two things in particular. He identifies Him as Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus is His given name. Nazareth refers to His hometown, where He was raised. This is a common manner of identification in the Bible, narrowing it down from all those who bear a common name. For example, Saul is called Saul of Tarsus. Sometimes people are identified by their lineage, such as Simon bar Jonah, Simon son of Jonah. But for reasons we’ve already touched on, identifying Jesus as the Son of Joseph would be inappropriate. Associating Jesus with Nazareth makes Him a known quantity and gives Him roots just like anyone else would have, roots that have significance for prophetic anticipation and validation (see Matt. 2:23).
The second thing Peter highlights about Jesus distinguishes Him from everyone else, providing definitive identification. Peter could have referenced the proclamation from God that he had heard with James and John at the Mount of Transfiguration (Matt. 17:1-6), but that was private knowledge not public. What was public were all the miracles, signs and wonders Jesus did. Many in the multitude had seen personally or heard through the grapevine the stupendous acts of Jesus in healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, and even raising the dead. Peter explained these mighty acts as pointing not to the deity of Christ but to the “Man attested by God,” the Man Jesus, with a known hometown, credentialed by God. It was as if Peter brought God Himself to the witness stand to authenticate Jesus as the Son of Man sent by God.
The Plan
In presenting a case, attorneys will construct a narrative that fits the facts of the case. A prosecuting attorney will frame an account that shows the defendant to be guilty. The defense attorney will take the same facts and paint a much different picture, one that exonerates his or her client. Peter constructs a narrative that aligns with the plan and purpose of God, putting the events surrounding the Man Jesus in biblical context. “Him, being delivered by the determined purpose and foreknowledge of God, you have taken by lawless hands, have crucified, and put to death; whom God raised up, having loosed the pains of death, because it was not possible that He should be held by it” (Acts 2:23–24).
Peter puts the events in the context of the plan of God, which we might think of as a metanarrative or redemptive narrative. This bigger picture governs the events of the day and the actions of men, including the sinful actions of betraying an innocent man. The people were responsible and culpable for their actions, yet God’s plan superintended and enfolded those actions.
We see a similar scene in the book of Genesis when Joseph addressed his brothers who had sold him into slavery. “Do not be afraid, for am I in the place of God? -
The Metaverse is the Next Generation’s Opium War
Meta and Mark Zuckerberg wish to make money. They will addict your children in order to do so. The next time you see your child slap on a VR headset, find out if they are entering the metaverse. You have a responsibility as a parent to know. If you are an adult emersed in the metaverse, you are an addict and don’t even know it.
Facebook announced a name change for its company this week. Meta is its new name.
You probably have little idea of the significance of the name change. I believe Meta has the capability of destroying the discipline, drive, and determination in future generations of Americans.
Have you heard of the Greatest Generation? These were American men and women who sacrificed everything during World War II to protect our land, our liberty, and the American way of life.
Meta could be the seedbed that destroys what the Greatest Generation obtained.
Meta is a Greek word that means “higher,” or “beyond,” or “behind.” It is carried over into English to refer to an alternate reality to something concrete. Meta (Facebook) is wanting to help you create an alternate life (e.g. “second life”) through virtual reality that takes you “beyond” the real-life that you are living on earth.
Meta is a drug. It is a form of escape. It is a game.
But don’t tell people involved in Meta that it is a game. It will anger them. Just like when you tell a person hooked on heroin that they’re addicted. “What do you know? Nothing that feels this good and is as beautiful as what I have experienced can be bad for me.”
Oh, yes it can.
Here’s how Meta works. Meta (Facebook) will soon be opening storefronts around the world to sell you next-generation virtual reality glasses called Oculus. Slap those glasses on, integrate with the digital world, and soon, you will be living a Second Life, an alternate reality.
In this virtual world that exists in your mind, you will interact with other people who enter your Second Life by asking you (audibly through Oculus) if they can join you in your virtual house, your virtual business, your virtual lakefront home, your virtual gym, your virtual vacation, etc. You live the life that you want to live but can’t live in the real universe.
That’s right.
It’s the metauniverse. You are in control of parallel universes that you digitally create to escape the reality of the one real universe in which you live. You become your own god. You ignore the real God. You go beyond the real truth to create your own version of the truth. You go beyond reality to escape the harsh world in which you really live – and which the one true God can help you thrive, not just survive.
But why bother with the real world?
In the digital metauniverse of Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta, people can hide behind an Avatar (a character) that they create in the metauniverse. The Avatar represents them in their alternate reality.
Here’s how it works.
You upload an image of your face (or someone else’s face) after digitally manipulating it to remove those characteristics you don’t like.
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