In recent years, interest in socialism has risen and conversations about Marxism, especially cultural Marxism, have permeated public discourse. From the Gallup Poll in 2019 which reported that four in ten Americans saw socialism as a good thing to the rise of Black Lives Matter whose founders openly identify themselves as “trained Marxists,” we are living at a time when Christians in America need to re-learn what past generations knew, and what Christians living in Cuba, China, and Czechoslovakia know, all too well: Communism, and its younger sibling Socialism, are godless ideologies that harm the masses.
As The Black Book of Communism (Harvard University Press) reports, nearly 100 million people died during the twentieth century under Communist regimes. And hence, it was both right and responsible for evangelicals during the Cold War to stand opposed to ideas of Karl Marx and his Communist Manifesto. As Grant Wacker reports in his biography of Billy Graham (America’s Pastor), the late evangelist often included a message against communism in his revivals. And more strategically, many Christians, evangelicals and otherwise, participated in the conservative project known as fusionism, in large part, to stem the tide of communism.
Today, however, with a generation of Americans untouched and untaught about Communism, the ghost of Karl Marx has risen again. In his book, Live Not by Lies, Rod Dreher addresses this very concern, when he begins by highlighting the concerns many from Eastern Bloc countries have had with modern America. He writes,
What unnerves those who lived under Soviet communism is this similarity: Elites and elite institutions are abandoning old-fashioned liberalism, based in defending the rights of the individual, and replacing it with a progressive creed that regards justice in terms of groups. It encourages people to identify with groups ethnic, sexual, and otherwise and to think of Good and Evil as a matter of power dynamics among the groups. A utopian vision drives these progressives, one that compels them to seek to rewrite history and reinvent language to reflect their ideals of social justice. (6)
What made these men and women flee Europe is now rising in America. The same thing is happening in Canada. Ivan, a trucker from Ukraine, put it like this when asked why he was joining the freedom convoy: “We came to Canada to be free—not slaves,” he said. “We lived under communism, and, in Canada, we’re now fighting for our freedom” (What the Truckers Want).
Importantly, this rise in elite-controlled social justice, woke racism, and identity politics is not something that stands outside the church either. Wokeness is making inroads within the church, too. From calls for social justice (largely undefined) to cries that Christian Nationalism (also undefined) are threatening our country, those in the church are missing something that previous generations did not and could not miss—namely, the evil that comes from a man-centered, God-denying, government-enforced attempt to build back better.
Indeed, while Critical Race Theory has gotten the most attention, one of its underlying promises, a vision of more fair and just society matches up well with Christians who want to do more than talk. In other words, advocates of social justice gain adherents by calling for a better world. And because some of the religious language maps onto Christian concerns, the result is an unholy fusion of Christ and cultural Marxism.
At the same time, some scholars have defined and denounced evangelicals, especially white conservatives who made a compact with the Republican party during the 1950s and 60s. One example of this is Kristin Kobe Du Mez in her book, Jesus and John Wayne. Expressing concern with the way patriarchal, white males championed the military and stood in the way of civil rights, women’s rights, and gay rights, she excoriates evangelicals for using their positions of power to prop themselves up and push others down.
Leaving a full evaluation of her book for someone else, I will simply say that she does not adequately consider the role Communism played in the 1950s and 60s. As Proverbs 18:17 reminds us, she who speaks first seems right, until someone else comes and questions her. And while she mentions Communism in her book, she does not consider the way Communist spies were infiltrating the halls of power throughout our country (see more below).
Like most of my generation, Du Mez has forgotten, or not cared to consider, how wicked communism was and is, and because she and others do not share the perspective that our Czechoslovakian neighbors do (see Live Not by Lies), they cannot appreciate the ways that evangelical leaders and conservative politicians worked together during the middle of the twentieth century. Nor, can she appreciate the fact that all the liberating works of the 1960s were suffused with communist ideas (see Roger Kimball, The Long March: How the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s Changed America). Even as civil rights were extended, and racial prejudice became illegal and unconscionable, there remained a set of rules for radicals that derived their origins from Cultural Marxists.
Today, the radicals of the 1960s have become our presidents and leading politicians. And in the church, the demands for egalitarianism, social justice, and gay rights are simply leftovers from the 1960s. Likewise, the progressive ideals of Jim Wallis, Ron Sider, and those who follow them, have shaped the way evangelicals—progressive and conservative—have approached culture. Indeed, thawed by the heat of Twitter, these old ideas are hatching new consequences. And because so many do not see or care to see the evils of Communism (consider NBC’s reporting of the Olympics) or the moral injustices of socialism, many of the radical ideas are facing little to no opposition. And that matters, because when the ideological offspring of Marx are given space to procreate, death not life results.
So with that long introduction out of the way, let me bring a witness to the stand, a man by the name of Whittaker Chambers.
An Old Witness to a New Wokeness
If you lived in American in the 1950s the name Whittaker Chambers would have been ubiquitous. For not only did he hold a prominent editorial office at Time Magazine, but between 1949–51, Chambers bore witness in a federal court to the Communist activity lodged deep within  Washington D.C. Revealing his own participation in Soviet espionage and his commitment to the Communist party, Chambers went to trial against many of his close friends.
This is how he came to national prominence. And in 1952 he published his personal memoir, a book entitled Witness, whose title bore the double entendre of being a witness in the courts and a witness for the sake of God’s truth. Even more, it was a testimony to the fact that he was first a witness for the Communists before he was a witness of the truth. Putting it in religious terms, he wrote, “It was my fate to be in turn a witness to each of the two great faiths in our time”—Communism and Christianity.
Indeed, Witness is an exhilarating story of how Chambers entered the Communist Party,  escaped that same party with skills acquired as a spy, and then risked his life to bear testimony before congress and the watching world. Yet, Witness is more than a good story. In this memoir, Chambers reveals the inner thoughts of a man who went from rejecting the idea of God (a Communist prerequisite) to a man who was moved by his personal faith to expose the secret agents in Washington D.C. In all, Witness is a powerful narrative, beautifully written, that tells how a man who risked his life to oppose his country could turn around and risk his life to stand against the evils of Communism—a religious commitment that once enthralled him.
For, anyone looking for a good biography, this book is it. And I would wholeheartedly encourage reading the full book. Yet, it is what Chambers says in the opening about Communism that I cite extensively below. To those who have not seen, heard, or known about the inner-workings of Communism, let Chambers timeless words be a warning.
Whittaker Chambers on Communism
In a letter to his children, we find the testimony of a man who knew the evil of Communism existentially, not just academically. Thus, to a generation who is inclined towards socialism and unmoved by the evils of Communism, we—especially, those in the church—need to hear Whittaker Chambers.
Here is how he begins to describe his faith and the faith of Communism.
A man may also be an involuntary witness. I do not know any way to explain why God’s grace touches a man who seems unworthy of it. But neither do I know any other way to explain how a man like myself tarnished by life, unprepossessing, not brave–could prevail so far against the powers of the world arrayed almost solidly against him, to destroy him and defeat his truth. In this sense, I am an involuntary witness to God’s grace and to the fortifying of power of faith.
It was my fate to be in turn a witness to each of the two great faiths of our time. And so we come to the terrible word, Communism. My very dear children, nothing in all these pages will be written so much for you, though it is so unlike anything you would want to read. In nothing shall I be so much a witness, in no way am I so much called upon to fulfill my task, as in trying to make clear to you (and to the world) the true nature of Communism and the source of its power, which was the cause of my ordeal as a man, and remains the historic ordeal of the world in the twentieth century. For in this century, within the next decades, will be decided for generations whether all mankind is to become Communist, whether the whole world is to become free, or whether, in the struggle, civilization as we know it is to be completely destroyed or completely changed. It is our fate to live upon that turning point in history. The world has reached that turning point by the steep stages of a crisis. (xxxvi-xxxvii)
After introducing the weight of Communism, Chambers outlines a brief history of the world events since World War II. In this, he introduces the idea of an existential crisis of “universal desperation” that comes from  a world stripped of peace, prosperity, and protection (xxxvi). Addressing this crisis, stood two super powers—the Soviet Union and the United States. After World War II, these two nations stood tall in the world and in them stood two contrasting ways of life—Communism on one side, denying God and offering human improvement through centralized planning, and Liberty on the other, denying absolute government control and offering liberty through personal freedom. (For the record, I am not conflating Christianity and Americana; I am noting the way Christianity influenced America and the way America, for a time, provided a safe haven for churches to flourish. More on that another day).
Addressing the crisis of humanity and desire for peace, Chambers suggests that the crisis is all-encompassing; it is “religious, moral, intellectual, social, political, [and] economic” (xxxvi). And facing this existential crisis of humanity—something he describes later in his own attraction to Communism—he explains how Communism, with its religious adherence to modern technology offers a solution to the problems of the world (xxxvii). It is at this point that Chambers weighs in on the evils of Communism and it is also here where modern Christians need to listen to most.
I see in Communism the focus of the concentrated evil of our time. You will ask: Why, then, do men become Communists? How did it happen that you, our gentle and loved father, were once a Communist? Were you simply stupid? No, I was not stupid. Were you morally depraved? No, I was not morally depraved. Indeed, educated men become Communists chiefly for moral reasons. Did you not know that the crimes and horrors of Communism are inherent in Communism? Yes, I knew that fact. Then why did you become a Communist? It would help more to ask: How did it happen that this movement, once a mere muttering of political outcasts, became this immense force that now contests the mastery of mankind? Even when all the chances and mistakes of history are allowed for, the answer must be: Communism makes some profound appeal to the human mind. You will not find out what it is by calling Communism names. That will not help much to explain why Communism whose horrors, on a scale unparalleled in history, are now public knowledge, still recruits its thousands and holds its millions-among them some of the best minds alive. Look at Klaus Fuchs, standing in the London dock, quiet, doomed, destroyed, and say whether it is possible to answer in that way the simple question: Why?
First, let me try to say what Communism is not. It is not simply a vicious plot hatched by wicked men in a sub-cellar. It is not just the writings of Marx and Lenin, dialectical materialism, the Politburo, the labor theory of value, the theory of the general strike, the Red Army, secret police, labor camps, underground conspiracy, the dictatorship of the proletariat, the technique of the coup d’état. It is not even those chanting, bannered millions that stream periodically, like disorganized armies, through the heart of the world’s capitals: Moscow, New York, Tokyo, Paris, Rome. These are expressions of Communism, but they are not what Communism is about.
In the Hiss trials, where Communism was a haunting specter, but which did little or nothing to explain Communism, Communists were assumed to be criminals, pariahs, clandestine men who lead double lives under false names, travel on false passports, deny traditional religion, morality, the sanctity of oaths, preach violence and practice treason. These things are true about Communists, but they are not what Communism is about.
The revolutionary heart of Communism is not the theatrical appeal: “Workers of the world, unite. You have nothing to lose but your chains. You have a world to gain.” It is a simple statement of Karl Marx, further simplified for handy use: “Philosophers have explained the world; it is necessary to change the world.” Communists are bound together by no secret oath. The tie that binds them across the frontiers of nations, across barriers of language and differences of class and education, in defiance of religion, morality, truth, law, honor, the weaknesses of the body and the irresolutions of the mind, even unto death, is a simple conviction: It is necessary to change the world. Their power, whose nature baffles the rest of the world, because in large measure the rest of the world has lost that power, is the power to hold convictions and to act on them. It is the same power that moves mountains; it is also an unfailing power to move men. Communists are that part of mankind which has recovered the power to live or die–to bear witness for its faith. And it is a simple, rational faith that inspires men to live or die for it. (xxxviii–xxxix)
In these words, Chambers identifies the religious nature of Communism and the inherent-but-distorted human drive to subdue and rule the world. Changing the world is what God intended man to do (Gen. 1:28; Psalm 8), but Communism twists this vocation by leading man to trust in himself with no fear of the Lord. Thus, Communism denies man’s fallenness (Genesis 3) and pretends that unfettered man can manufacture a world without God. And lest you think I am adding biblical imagery to flesh out Chambers vision. Listen to what he says next about man’s faith in himself.
It is not new. It is, in fact, man’s second oldest faith. Its promise was whispered in the first days of the Creation under the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil: “Ye shall be as gods.” It is the great alternative faith of mankind. Like all great faiths, its force derives from: simple vision. Other ages have had great visions. They have always been different versions of the same vision: the vision of God and man’s relationship to God. The Communist vision is the vision of Man without God. 
It is the vision of man’s mind displacing God as the creative intelligence of the world. It is the vision of man’s liberated mind, by the sole force of its rational intelligence, redirecting man’s destiny and reorganizing man’s life and the world. It is the vision of man, once more the central figure of the Creation, not because God made man in His image, but because man’s mind makes him the most intelligent of the animals. Copernicus and his successors displaced man as the central fact of the universe by proving that the earth was not the central star of the universe. Communism restores man to his sovereignty by the simple method of denying God.
The vision is a challenge and implies a threat. It challenges man to prove by his acts that he is the masterwork of the Creation by making thought and act one. It challenges him to prove it by using the force of his rational mind to end the bloody meaninglessness of man’s history—by giving it purpose and a plan. It challenges him to prove it by reducing the meaningless chaos of nature, by imposing on it his rational will to order, abundance, security, peace. It is the vision of materialism. But it threatens, if man’s mind is unequal to the problems of man’s progress, that he will sink back into savagery (the A and the H bombs have raised the issue in explosive forms), until nature replaces him with a more intelligent form of life. (xxxix)
Man separated from God doesn’t mean he loses his mission to subdue and rule. It simply means he becomes a savage. In service to himself and his ideals, he rules the world with his mind, his actions, his power, and all his political machinations. This is what stands at the heart of Communism. It is Cain writ large. Babel swollen to the size of a modern nation-state.
In our day, the specter of Communism has not disappeared, it has just gone digital. Under terms like stakeholder capitalism and  democratic socialism and by means of the media, education, and government intervention, the seeds of communism have been sown to such a degree that America, who once stood against such evil, is now posturing itself to follow the Communism of countries like China. And what do Christians do? Many would say that combatting Communism is deviation from the gospel and a capitulation to the Republican party. Yet, such high-sounding rhetoric will only clear the ground from the evils of Communism to come.
Sadly, too many Christians look back at the Red Scare and scoff (or yawn!), not recognizing why America, and the Christians therein, once stood against Communism. But if we listen to Whittaker Chambers, we begin to learn something from history. If we fail to appreciate the evil of Communism and the ways it slipped in unnoticed into American institutions of higher education, labor unions, and community organizing, we will miss it again. And actually, it may be too late. But this is why we need to hear the warning of Whittaker Chambers and see the evils of Communism.
A Witness Against Wokeness
Today, ignorance of the past is a badge of honor. And when it comes to those who would seek to destroy a faith in God with a faith in humanity, we need to see the modern connections to the past. The Communism that radicalized many Christians in the 1960s is repeating itself with Christians who are imbibing the nostrums of Critical Theory, Critical Race Theory, and every other form of egalitarianism. Instead of recognizing the way Cultural Marxism has metastasized and spread through culture and the body of Christ, Christians are defending the use of analytic tools that were formed by men and women who deny God. Instead of seeing, as Whittaker Chambers did, the great divide between two faiths—the way of Christ and the way of Babel—many Christians are welcoming and even crafting horses filled with trojans.
As Christians living in this world, we need to know the ideas and ideologies that are threatening the church, and we need by God’s grace to expose their darkness and point people to the light.
Thankfully, not everyone is smitten with idolatrous visions of social justice, Intersectionality, and corporate wokeness. But these watchman on the wall are the ones derided by large swaths of evangelicals as extreme Christian nationalists. Yet, with the testimony of Chambers in hand, I would argue that those who raise concerns about godless ideologies and the impact of wokeness are the only ones worth listening to today. Of course, the watchman on the wall seems out of his mind, screaming about the dangers outside (and inside) the city, but if he is warning the city of real threats (a la Ezekiel 3 and 34), he cannot use his indoor voice.
What is happening today is the rise of evil at the level of governmental tyranny. And where in the past such tyranny sprung up in the East, in Nazi Germany, and Castro’s Cuba, now it is in the West. And for those who care about good and evil, human flourishing, and the peace by which the church can live, move, and have her faith (1 Tim. 2:1–4), cannot be indifferent, silent, or passive when it comes to issues of Church and State.
As Christians living in this world, therefore, we need to know the ideas and ideologies that are threatening the church, and we need by God’s grace to expose their darkness and point people to the light. In the 1940s and 50s, Communism was prominent and Chambers testimony exposed its darkness. In the 1960s, the radical ideas of Cultural Marxism permeated college campuses, and the likes of Francis Schaeffer stood in the gap. Today, we are still facing the same threat, and thus, we would do well to learn from someone like Whittaker Chambers. His boldness and his unshakable commitment to truth are characteristics more Christians need. And thus, we should let his witness continue to speak.
A Final Word of Warning
With that in mind, hear his final warning about visions of man-made grandeur that lead men astray by promising a solution to the crisis of living of our Genesis 3 world.
The Communist vision has a mighty agitator and a mighty propagandist. They are the crisis. The agitator needs no soap box. It speaks insistently to the human mind at the point where desperation lurks. The propagandist writes no Communist gibberish. It speaks insistently to the human mind at the point where man’s hope and man’s energy fuse to fierceness.
The vision inspires. The crisis impels. The workingman is chiefly moved by the crisis. The educated man is chiefly moved by the vision. The workingman, living upon a mean margin of life, can afford few visions—even practical visions. An educated man, peering from the Harvard Yard, or any college world in chaos, finds in the vision the two certainties for campus, upon awhich the mind of man tirelessly seeks: a reason to live and a reason to die.
No other faith of our time presents them with the same practical intensity. That is why Communism is the central experience of the first half of the 20th century, and may be its final experience will be, unless the free world, in the agony of its struggle with Communism, overcomes its crisis by discovering, in suffering and pain, a power of faith which will provide man’s mind, at the same intensity, with the same two certainties: a reason to live and a reason to die. If it fails, this will be the century of the great social wars. If it succeeds, this will be the century of the great wars of faith. (xli)
Prophetically, Chambers has sized up the situation. We do live in a century of “great social wars.” And lest we think that any government and its priests will be our saviors, we who know Christ must return to him, plant our faith in his soil, and stand our ground to proclaim his grace and truth. With that identification secure, along with the promise of resurrection life, we must strike out as witnesses to declare the Lord reigns and that his judgment comes. Therefore, fear God and live.
Today, too many churches have sought to befriend the world in order to win the world. Yet, the gospel is a message of judgment upon those who trust in themselves. And our witness must be just that—unless you repent and believe on Christ, the true king of glory will strike you down. Your nation, your people, your group, your ideas, your social justice, they will all be struck down. Why? Because the human vision of glorified humanity cannot come by way of man and his meta-verse. God alone can produce peace, prosperity, security, and eternity, and in a world full of sinners, such peace only comes through the cross of Christ. And lasting dominion can only be continued by the man who died and rose on high.
The sooner we realize that this cosmic crisis is rooted in the historic fall of Adam and that the most important divide in humanity stands between two faiths—i.e., the way of Cain (faith in self) vs. the way of Abel (faith in God)—the sooner we will be ready to stand in this fallen world. Reading Witness is a wake up call to anyone who thinks that the ideas, tools, and actions that come down from Marx are indifferent in Christianity. History proves otherwise. And in the testimony of Whittaker Chambers, we discover why. Communism, socialism, cultural marxism, Critical Theory, etc.—all of these ideologies replace God with man and invite man to make himself like God. In other words, they are inspired by that ancient serpent, the devil.
Such is the way of sin, death, and destruction, and those who know the truth need to confront the ideologies of Marx with the gospel of salvation and judgment; we must not confuse the utopian visions of Marx with the eschatological promises of the gospel. To that end, let us continue to bear witness to the truth, and following the boldness of Whittaker Chambers and all martyrs (witnesses) of the faith, let us speak the truth of God. out loud, in public, and without shame. So help us God!
Soli Deo Gloria.

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The Southern Baptist Convention is an associational structure of churches. Is purpose is to carry “into effect the benevolent intentions of our constituents, by organizing a plan for eliciting, combining, and directing the energies of the whole denomination in one sacred effort for the propagation of the gospel.” The assumption behind the union was that each participating churches would be a  “regular Baptist church.” No Baptist church is forced to join an association of churches nor forced to stay. No association may exert authority over the internal affairs of a local church, but it may determine the terms of membership in the association. The church is autonomous; the association is autonomous. The church may select its own officers, receive and discipline its own members according to its understanding of Scripture, and choose to affiliate with other churches of like faith and order. An association of churches may govern its internal affairs according to the will of the associating churches and may adopt a confession of faith that expresses its understanding of the Scriptures. It may receive or reject churches into its associational structure on the basis of that confessional statement. A local church may not demand that an association of churches allow its participation while it holds doctrines out of accord with the association’s confessions. A church may not demand that an association change its confession to allow for its participation while dissenting from its doctrine. A church disagreeing with the confessional stance of an association may continue its autonomy independent of the association.

When the Philadelphia Association received queries from churches, a committee appointed to investigate the question would answer with pertinent Scripture and frequently would refer to a section of their confession of faith. In 1724, for a question on the Sabbath, one element of the response was “We refer to the Confession of Faith, set forth by the elders and brethren met in London, 1689, and owned by us, chap. 22, sect. 7 and 8.” In 1727 a question on marriage evoked the response “Answered, by referring to our Confession of faith, chapter 26th in our last edition.” A question about laying on of hands referred to the Confession in chapter xxvi, section 9. A question in 1735 about church membership of a person too far away to attend was answered by invoking the Confession of faith, chapter xxvii, and the Treatise on Discipline.

In 1743, the association heard discussion about a theological dispute that had developed in one of its member churches concerning the eternal generation of the Son. After the discussion, one person, Joseph Eaton, “recanted, renounced, and condemned all expressions, which he heretofore had used, whereby his brethren … were made to believe that he departed from the literal sense and meaning of that fundamental article in our Confession of faith, concerning the eternal generation and Sonship of Jesus Christ our Lord.” At the same meeting a “brother Butler” wrote an acknowledgement, “I freely confess that I have given too much cause for others to judge that I contradicted our Confession of faith concerning  the eternal generation of the son of God, in some expressions contained in my paper, which I now with freedom condemn.”

When Baptist associations opened formal correspondence with other associations, they determined their doctrinal purity through examination of their confession of faith. The Philadelphia Association minutes from 1788 read, “A letter and minutes which contain the sentiments of the Stonington Association, were received. From which it appears, that they have adopted the same printed Confession which this Association has heretofore approved. We shall therefore cheerfully concur with them in maintaining a mutual correspondence.”

OK, well, you get it. No need to multiply instances. The confession was important and no article would have been inserted unless there was good reason to believe that all the churches should affirm their conscientious acknowledgement of the biblical doctrines so stated.  A denominational confession necessarily includes doctrines deemed of secondary importance in relation to historic orthodox Christianity. If the Apostles Creed and Nicene Creed were all that we should confess, and we certainly should confess them, we would have no denominations, but we would have constant disagreement between and even within churches about those things that seem to be secondary—not saving truths—but still vital for the health and unity of local churches AND vital associational structures, as well as personal obedience to the Lord. Among these are the mode and meaning of baptism—surely anyone can see that this could rise to the level of a first order issue–,  the number, authority, and qualifications of the officers of the church, and the manner of church discipline.

An essay on the relation of local churches to an association appeared in the minutes of the Philadelphia Association in 1749. After affirming the autonomy of each local church, and the right and obligation to administer the biblical ordinances, receive and discipline its membership, set apart its officers “independent of any other church or assembly whatever,” it discussed the autonomy and powers of an association, or confederation of churches that unite on a voluntary basis. Though not a “superior judicature,” there is nevertheless a power that the association has over itself. “For if the agreement of several distinct churches, in sound doctrine and regular practice be the first motive, ground and foundation or basis of their confederation,” the essay premised, and then drew the inference, “then it must naturally follow, that a defection in doctrine or practice in any church, in such confederation, or any party in any such church, is ground sufficient for an Association to withdraw from such a church or party so deviating or making defection, and to exclude such from them in some formal  manner.”

Baptists have never believed that baptism, the Lord’ Supper, or the calling and setting apart of church officers are minor matters for they are part of divine revelation and are given in order to bring the church to a “unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God” (Ephesians 4:13). These are the doctrines that distinguished Baptists in their seventeenth-century emergence from English Puritanism and Separatism. Within the framework of the broader Christian confession of creedal orthodoxy and Protestant evangelicalism—both affirmed clearly by Baptists as necessary for true Christian faith—issues of church order and officers might be considered secondary or even tertiary, but for the distinctive identity of Baptists they are primary. Baptists consider their views of baptism, church membership, the continuing mandate of the great Commission, ecclesiastical non-establishment, and the qualifications of local church officers as essential elements of our quest for the purity and spiritual power of local churches.

Acceptance of regulating confessions of faith and even so-called creedal affirmation are not foreign to Baptist convictions in protecting their commitment to “the faith once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3). James P. Boyce famously argued extensively for a governing confession in the founding of a theological seminary: “Let subscription to it[the confession of faith] on the part of each Theological Professor be required as an assurance of his entire agreement with its views of doctrine, and of his determination to teach fully the truth which it expresses, and nothing contrary to its declarations.” He also stated with conviction and clarity that it fit well—even necessarily—in the stewardship of a local church. After allowing for the broad spectrum of biblical understanding and doctrinal maturity of the members of a local church In light of the hopeful reality of the presence of recent converts, Boyce proceeded to argue, “But I cannot grant that such a test is without due warrant from Scripture even in the Church. The very duties which God enjoins upon the Churches, plainly suppose the application of every principle involved in the establishment of creeds” [Boyce, Three Changes 1856]. 

The same we find in B. H. Carroll, the founder of Southern Baptists’ second theological seminary.  Carroll fully agreed with Boyce’s view of the stewardship of revealed truth through adherence to a confession and applied it to his attempt to give “safeguards” to the seminary. He also believed that hearty and hardy confessional adherence was fitting, in fact, required for a church. “A church with a little creed is a church with a little life. … the fewer its articles of faith, the fewer its bonds of union and compactness.” Carroll continued, therefore, with the warning, “Shut off the creed and the Christian world would fill up with heresy unsuspected and uncorrected, but none the less deadly.” When confronted with the claim of some that individual liberty would be challenged by the requirement of creedal authority, he responded, “We are entitled to no liberty in these matters. It is a positive and very hurtful sin to magnify liberty at the expense of doctrine. A creed is what we believe. A confession of faith is a declaration of what we believe. The church must both believe and declare.” Contemplating that Christ came to bear witness to the truth and that apostles would teach and write under the inspiration of the Spirit of truth, Carroll insisted, “To Christ and the apostles, false creeds were the most deadly things, and called most for the use of the knife.” The setting aside of men to the gospel ministry must conform, therefore, to this Christological and apostolical concern for truth: “The limit of ordination examination on doctrine is the maximum of church creed on doctrine. …  Unless ‘the faith’ is a needed creed of definite vital truth, there is no basis for examination looking to ordination and no standard up to which the convert must be developed” [Carroll on Ephesians 4].

One of the favorite tactics of the so-called and self-styled “moderate” wing of the Convention during the years immediately preceding and then during the conservative resurgence involved implying a dichotomy between adherence to strict orthodoxy and personal religious experience. One writer in 1978 warned against a growing tendency to “Creedal Subscription” and characterized the developing conflict as one between scholastics and pietists. He characterized the scholastic as the person who “wants to make the confession compulsory lest the faith become lost,” and the pietist as the one who “wants to make the confession optional lest the freedom for the vitality of faith become lost.” [Walter Shurden, R & E, Spring 1978, 231]. Pietism, not scholasticism,  the writer implies, should be the model for promotion of Baptist unity and mission

Another looked to positive lessons to be learned from American mystics who consistently asserted that “formal creedal authority was much less significant than the inner reality of the divine presence.” This heightening of inner experience disconnected from dogma “may be extremely useful” in providing “a unity beyond denomination and dogma which is the foundation of the Church universal, the mystical body of Christ.” [William Leonard, R & E, Spring 1978, 277.] 

Then in the midst of the fray, soon following the Glorieta Statement issued in 1986, a prominent Moderate spokesman pitted “scholarship” against “confirmation and indoctrination,” “authentic education” against “brainwashing,” “personal religious experience” against a “memorized religion,” and authentic education” against “indoctrination of students with predigested teachings.” [Roy Honeycutt, Risking the Arm, Convocation Address, September 1987]  In his infamous convocation sermon for the fall of 1984, Roy Honeycutt saw the “cosmic Christ” as making us free from any attempts at uniformity, particularly confessional uniformity, but asserted, “Communities such as this seminary and the Southern Baptist Convention should affirm not stifle or otherwise restrict pluralism.” Instead of uniformity, “we need to rediscover authentic, New Testament pluralism as an essential quality of the church on mission with God.” Certainly, we are not back to the practice of conceding that confessional infidelity is a sign of spiritual maturity, a deeper grasp of the mind of Christ, and educational superiority.

We know that this present concern about a confession of faith’s usurpation of the rights of conscience and the autonomy of a church is prompted by the question of the ordination of women to the office of elder/bishop/pastor-teacher. Again, the precedent of Baptist exposition on this issue shows that no assertion of lack of clarity either exegetically, ecclesiologically, or doctrinally need make a strong stance unwarranted. Carroll wrote in his exposition of 1 Timothy, commenting on 2:11-13 along with 1 Corinthians 14: 34, 35, “The custom in some congregations of having a woman as pastor is in flat contradiction to this apostolic teaching and is open rebellion against Christ our king, and high treason against his sovereignty, and against nature as well as grace. It unsexes both the woman who usurps this authority and the men who submit to it. Under no circumstances conceivable is it justifiable.” 

Likewise in his commentary on 1 Timothy in the American Commentary series, Hezekiah Harvey, considering the text carefully in the setting of Paul’s argument concerning creation, fall, and redemption says, “The passage plainly denies to woman the office of the ministry, or the function of prayer and instruction in the public assemblies of the church, on the ground that such an office, as it involves authority over the man, is inconsistent with the divinely-constituted nature and position of woman as subordinate to man.” Then again, after more detailed exposition he reconfirms, “These reasons [the ones Paul has given in the text], founded on the original constitution and nature of the woman, are plainly valid in all places and in all ages; and the rule excluding woman from the office of the ministry in the church, of which they form the ground, is consequently universal and perpetual.”

Neither exegetically, confessionally, nor ecclesiologically should this issue be a point of controversy among Baptists. The Bible is our sole authority; the confession gives clear expression to a coherent, canonically derived understanding of the Bible’s teaching; The churches obey the text in order to be found sincere and blameless, filled with the fruit of righteousness.

Paul’s knowledge of the gospel was a gift of immediate special revelation. He made specific claims to this throughout his ministry and by implication virtually everywhere. In Galatians 1 Paul defended his apostleship by showing that his knowledge of the gospel came, not from any secondary source, but from revelation  (Galatians 1:1, 8, 9, 12, 16). This claim is reiterated in 1 Corinthians 2 where Paul wrote, “These things God revealed to us through the Spirit” (1 Corinthians 2:10) and “We impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit interpreting spiritual truths in spiritual words” (13). Paul reminded the Ephesians, “The mystery was made known to me by revelation,” following it with words such as “my insight into the mystery of Christ . . .as it has now been revealed to his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit” (Ephesians 3:3-5).
Other phrases imply the absolute revelatory authority of the message given to the apostles and their immediate circle of New Covenant prophets. These phrases appear as elements of arguments or admonitions that assume Paul’s absolute truthfulness as a recipient of divine revelation: “the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of  God” (Acts 20:25); “Now to him who is able to strengthen you, according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but has now been disclosed and through the prophetic writings has been made known to all nations” (Romans 16:25, 26); “If anyone thinks that he is a prophet, or spiritual, he should acknowledge that the things I am writing to you are a command of the Lord” (1 Corinthians 14:35); “Our sufficiency is from God, who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant” (2 Corinthians 3:5, 6); “We refuse to practice cunning or to tamper with God’s word” (2 Corinthians 4:2); “that words may be given me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel” (Ephesians 6:19); “Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now , . ,. “ (Philippians 2:12); “not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul became a minister” Colossians 1:23); “and when this letter has been  read among you, have it also read in the church of the Laodiceans, and see that you also read the letter from Laodicea” (Colossians 4:16); “when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men but as what it really is, the word of God, which is at work in you believers” (1 Thessalonians 2: 13); “If anyone does not obey what we say in this letter, take note of that person, and have nothing to do with him” (2 Thessalonians 3:14); “the glorious gospel of the blessed God with which I have been entrusted” (1 Timothy 1:11); “I charge you in the presence of God, . . . to keep the commandments unstained, . . . guard the deposit entrusted to you” (1 Timothy 6:13, 20); “the gospel for which I was appointed a preacher and apostle and teacher; . . . he is able to guard until that day what has been entrusted to me. Follow the pattern of sound words you have heard from me” (2 Timothy 1:11-13); “You, however, have followed my teaching, my conduct, my aim in life, my faith; . . . continue in what you have learned and have firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it and how from childhood you have been acquainted with the sacred writings [Holy Scriptures]” (2 Timothy 3:10, 15); “at the proper time manifested in his word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted by the command of God our Savior” (Titus 1:3). Many others could be added to these, but the assumption is plain and simple that Paul ministered and taught under the persuasion that he was the recipient of divine revelation—the content of which distinguished between truth and falsehood, trustworthiness and deceit, certainty and speculation, life and death, heaven and hell.
Paul’s engagement with the entire process of revelation necessarily involved a principle of continuity with the past. While being a steward of the New Covenant (1 Corinthians 4:1, 2), he was bound to show how the present expansion of both revelation and the redemptive plan had perfect continuity with the past. In his first engagement after his conversion, he went to the synagogue to prove that Jesus “is the Son of God,” by “proving that Jesus was the Christ” (Acts 9:20, 22). Acts 13:16-41 gives a summary of a sermon in which Paul did exactly that. As Paul met with the Jews in Rome, Acts 28:23 says, “From morning to evening, he expounded to them testifying to the kingdom of God and trying to convince them about Jesus from both the Law of Moses and from the Prophets.”  The nature of Paul’s arguments from the previous revelation to its mature meaning in the apostolic revelation shows the seamless continuity of truth and purpose and the centrality of a Christological grasp of the Old Testament as an intention of the Holy Spirit. Examples of this could be found in each of his epistles, but particularly in Galatians and Romans Paul’s strong claims to having received his message by immediate revelation shows that the revelatory process is not independent of other factors as they developed in the progress of revelation. The necessity of the careful use of human thought, knowledge of the details of previous revelation, knowledge of the historical manifestation of Christ’s person, words, actions, and works, and deduction from the consistency of the Jesus phenomenon as exclusively expressive of the expectations of previous revelation all constitute the Spirit’s work in bringing revelation to its culminating purpose.
There is such a continuity between the life and thought of the apostle and the content of the revelation that even personal references that make their way into the text serve their discreet purpose in confirming the truth. “I do not know whether I baptized anyone else,” is a deeply personal operation of Paul’s mind, but also serves in sealing the point that he is making about avoiding division in the church. “When you come, bring the cloak that I left that I left with Carpus at Troas, also the books, and above all the parchments” (2 Timothy 4:13). Slices of life that show the personal relations of the apostle, his physical needs, and his desire for continued study and writing give the life context within which apostolic revelation arises and the kind of personal awareness that interpenetrate that process of the Spirit.
This should make us contemplate the relation between revelation and inspiration. All Scripture is inspired. This includes the received canon of the Old Testament and the writings of the apostolic community responsible for preaching and writing the revealed mysteries of the New Testament (2 Timothy 3:14-17). So, whether the words are matters of absolutely unknowable propositions apart from their being revealed or whether the words concern events and personal experiences already known through observation or deduction, their presence in the biblical account comes from the divine determination of inclusion for a specific purpose of edifying, instructive, contextual connections within the larger corpus of revealed truth.
A passage of pure revelation, therefore, is preeminently a revealed truth to the mind and thought of the preacher/writer but it also is inspired in the verbal communication to other persons and subsequent generations: “He is the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him” (Colossians 1:15, 16). That is simple, unalloyed revelatory truth and the language in which the revelation is given is inspired language. In this way, revelation and inspiration coalesce so that the inspired text itself consists of revealed truth.
In the same way, a text like this can be considered as revealed truth because of the peculiar purpose that God had in inspiring it to be included in the written text: “And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding” (Colossians 1:9).  Paul gives a historical report of his having heard of their conversion through the ministry of Epaphras and his consequent ceaseless prayers for them. The content of his prayer explored an important aspect of revealed truth concerning how one discerns God’s will. Not every aspect of that statement is revealed truth for Paul is reporting something that emerged in the context of his own knowledge and experience. The report, nevertheless, is a part of the inspired text and, therefore, bears the mark of God’s intention that the church in all generations would know this Pauline comment and be edified by it. Its inspiration, therefore, embraces the comment into the sphere of revelation.
Jesus spoke many words, gave many teachings to his apostles which were not recorded (John 21:25). Without contradiction such words from Jesus would be of canonical quality and would be unvarnished revelation. These words were not “written,” however, and so never became inspired Scripture. John saw a revelation from a mighty angel and seven thunders. He reported, “I was about the write, but I heard a voice from heaven saying, ‘Seal up what the seven thunders have said, and do not write it down’” (Revelation 10:4). He received a revelation but was not directed to write it down, so the revelation never became part of inspired Scripture. Inspiration, therefore, since it is the means by which revelation is preserved and accurately transmitted, may be seen as of revelatory in quality.
To receive all of Scripture, therefore, as the written revelation of God accurately and faithfully conforms to the Bible’s witness to itself. For the knowledge of the triune God and his gospel, for the health of the soul, for pure worship and devotion, for Christ-centered maturity, and for works that conform to divine regulation, the Bible is the lamp unto our feet and the light to our path.
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