The gallery begins with the patriarchs and a few digressions in their life stories that seem to be included only for the small examples of wisdom they afford. Abraham exhibited the wisdom of avoiding strife within his family and offered a solution that was more favorable to others than to himself when he divided territory with Lot (Gen. 13:5–11). His son Isaac learned the wisdom of peacemaking. When competitors quarreled with him over wells that belonged to his father, he moved along peacefully instead of pressing his rights, and the Lord blessed him for it (26:17–22). If the fool is known for his propensity to quarrel, the wise man is known for avoiding strife and stopping contention before it starts (Prov. 17:14; 20:3). To live peaceably with others, as much as it depends on us (Rom. 12:18), reflects the wisdom of “the God of peace” (15:33).
In the portrait of Joseph, diligence and foresight converge. While these traits can be motivated by self-interest, the godly man’s intention is the good of others (Eccl. 11:2). Joseph worked tirelessly to avert the devastation of a forthcoming famine (Gen. 41:46–49), knowing that the preservation of his family (45:7) and an entire nation (50:20) depended on the faithful exercise of the wisdom that God had given him. Even Pharaoh could see that such wisdom came from God alone (41:39). The stakes of wisdom may never be as high in our lives as they were in Joseph’s, but diligence and foresight exercised out of love for others may find a thousand small expressions in our daily lives.
In a backroom of this gallery of wisdom, we find the understated portrait of Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law. In contrast to the elaborate narrative of Joseph’s rise to power, Jethro’s story is less well known, which illustrates the Preacher’s warning that the wise should not expect wealth, favor, or fame in this world (Eccl. 9:16). But Jethro, a Midianite, had the true wealth of wisdom. He professed faith in the one true God and was received into the fellowship of Moses, Aaron, and all the elders of Israel (Ex. 18:10–12). He wisely observed that the shepherding of God’s people could be better accomplished with an “abundance of counselors” (Prov. 24:6) rather than through Moses alone. So his advice to his son-in-law was twofold: teach the people the Word of God, and place God-fearing and able men over the people to provide judgment and counsel (Ex. 18:19–23). Moses showed the wisdom of heeding good advice (Prov. 12:15), and the wise counsel of his father-in-law was later proved to be the will and the wisdom of God (Num. 11:16–17).
Few people will even recognize the next portrait, but Bezalel the son of Uri is among the few who are actually called “wise” in the Bible. Of the tribe of Judah, he was a master craftsman appointed by God for the construction of the tabernacle (Ex. 31:1–11; 35:30–36:1). He was said to have been filled with the Spirit of God, wisdom, knowledge, and understanding. Although he was gifted to teach (35:34), his wisdom was expressed in the work of his hands, as he gave glory to God through the practical skills that he had been given as a craftsman and artisan. Bezalel’s portrait reminds us that wisdom is not always a matter of the mind but is also a labor of the hands, using any skill or ability to the glory of God. Read Proverbs 31 and note how many times the “hands” of that wise and excellent woman are mentioned.

Written by Paul J. Barth |
Tuesday, May 7, 2024
At the time of administration, covenant infants are capable of the grace signified by baptism (Jer. 1:5; Luke 1:15; John 3:8), but not the grace signified by communion. So, even though we confess that “the efficacy of baptism is not tied to that moment of time wherein it is administered” (WCF 28:6), the signification of baptism, in principle, remains prior to, and during, the time of administration. This is not the case for the Lord’s Supper because the signification of it requires active faith, and a verifiable profession of such faith by the elders (1 Cor. 4:1; 5:11).

A common objection against infant baptism by credo-baptists is that if children are to be baptized, then, for the sake of consistency, they ought to also be admitted to the Lord’s Supper. In other words, the logical conclusion of infant baptism necessarily leads to the absurdity of infant communion; paedocommunion is obviously unbiblical and absurd, therefore paedobaptism must likewise be unbiblical. In like manner, paedocommunion advocates endorse the same logic, but instead of denying both infant baptism and infant communion, they affirm and practice both under the same pretense of consistency (cf. Infant Communion? By Douglas Wilson). Since paedobaptism is true, paedocommunion is likewise true, and it is inconsistent to treat them differently by giving one sacrament to infants but not the other.
But is this charge of inconsistency a valid criticism of confessional Reformed sacramentology?
Baptists and Paedocommunionists both hold to the same naive and superficial assumption: “Since Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are both sacraments, they must also have the same qualifications for partaking worthily.” But this is not a sound conjecture, it is a false analogy. On the contrary, confessional Reformed Theology rightly affirms that the Lord Jesus Christ defines the manner in which each sacrament ought to be partaken of—and he does so in harmonious consistency with the nature, use, and ends that he himself instituted for each sacrament respectively.
So the remaining question is, why do confessional Reformed churches baptize infants, but do not admit them to the Lord’s Table? They do so for the following three reasons:
1) Covenant Status & the Requirements for Partaking of Each Sacrament
First, due to their covenant status, personal acts of faith (such as a credible profession) are not necessary for infants to be baptized, but yet they are necessary for them to partake of the Lord’s Supper.
A credible profession of faith, as validated by the elders of the church, is required of those outside of the visible church in order for them to join the covenant community. Converts to Christianity must enter the covenant community first, by professing faith in Christ, and then they can be admitted to the sacrament of baptism (Mark 16:15-16; Acts 8:37-38). However, infants of believers are already members of the covenant community, and are federally holy (Gen. 9:9; Gen. 17:10; Acts 2:39; 1 Cor. 7:14; cf. WLC 166). As members of the visible church, covenant infants have a right to the initiatory sacrament of baptism. That is why a profession of faith is not required of covenant infants before receiving baptism. [1]
Unlike the requirements for adult baptism, the requirements for worthily partaking of the Lord’s Supper are not given to unbelievers, but rather to the covenant community. There is no similar twofold requirement for this sacrament like there is for baptism with regard to unbelieving adults vs covenant children. This sacrament is exclusively for covenant members, not for outsiders of the covenant—which is why the prerequisites for worthy partaking are the same for all those who already are covenant members. These prerequisites are remembering Christ (1 Cor. 11:24-25), self-examination (1 Cor. 11:28; 2 Cor. 13:5), discerning the Lord’s body and blood (1 Cor. 11:27, 29), taking, eating, and drinking the bread and the wine (1 Cor. 11:24-25), not just physically, but spiritually by faith (John 6:35; 1 Cor. 11:26). As William Ames wrote,
“Baptism ought to be administered to all those in the covenant of grace, because it is the first sealing of the covenant now first entered into… But the Supper is to be administered only to those who are visibly capable of nourishment and growth in the church. Therefore, it is to be given not to infants, but only to adults.” (Marrow of Theology I.xl.11, 18, pp. 211 & 212)
Baptism requires covenant membership, which is obtained either by birth or by profession of faith. Covenant children are not an exception to this rule. Communion requires not only covenant membership, but also multiple spiritual exercises which are not required for any party in baptism. Of these spiritual exercises, John Calvin writes, “Nothing of the kind is prescribed by baptism. Wherefore, there is the greatest difference between the two signs [baptism & communion].” He continues with an analogy from the old covenant sacraments:
“This also we observe in similar signs under the old dispensation. Circumcision, which, as is well known, corresponds to our baptism, was intended for infants, but the Passover, for which the Supper is substituted, did not admit all kinds of guests promiscuously, but was duly eaten only by those who were of an age sufficient to ask the meaning of it (Exod. 12:26).” (Institutes of the Christian Religion IV.xvi.30)
Hence it is clear that the prerequisites for baptism are not comparable to those for the Lord’s Supper. The requirement for baptism is that one be a member of the visible church, yet one may become a member of the visible church in two ways. Non-covenanted individuals outside the church must profess faith in Christ to join the church and be baptized, whereas members of the church already have a right to baptism. However, the requirements for the Lord’s Supper, discussed above, cannot be met in multiple ways.
2) The Manner of Participation
Secondly, the recipient is passive in baptism, but active in communion. One is baptized by being a covenant member, and having water poured on the head, whereas in communion there are several physical and spiritual actions that must take place. The participant does not baptize himself, but in communion, the participant takes, eats, drinks, and remembers.
This passive and active manner of participation corresponds to the Christ-ordained ends of the two sacraments respectively. Baptism represents regeneration (Titus 3:5)—which is an irresistible act of the Holy Ghost upon the passive person (John 3:8) bringing him to spiritual life (Ezekiel 37:1-10; Eph. 2:5) and giving him a new heart (Ezekiel 36:26). Yet, Communion represents active faith (John 6:35; 1 Cor. 11:26)—which is an act of the believer reaching out and taking hold of Christ for himself unto salvation (John 1:12; Acts 15:11; 16:31; Gal 2:20). It is important to remember that justifying faith consists of three components: knowledge of the gospel message (notitia), intellectual assent acknowledging the truth of the gospel message (assensus), and wilful trust in, and a faithful apprehending of, the promises of God in Christ unto oneself (fiducia). This knowledge and assent are intellectual actions, and fiducial trust is an act of the will [2] — all three of which infants in their stage of development are not yet capable of (Isa. 7:16; Rom. 10:17; 12:1). [3] Yet, regeneration, being the sole act of the Holy Ghost, infants are capable of receiving (John 3:8). As Robert Baillie (1602-1662) wrote,
“[Infants] are not capable of the whole signification of the Lord’s Supper, for the thing signified therein is not the Lord’s body and blood simply, but his body to be eaten, and his blood to be drunken, by the actual faith of the communicants; of this active application infants are not capable; but in baptism no action is necessarily required of all who are to be baptized; for as the body may be washed without any action of the party who is washed: so the virtue of Christ’s death and life may be applied in remission and regeneration, by the act of God alone to the soul as a mere patient without any action from it.” (Anabaptism, the True Fountain of Independency, pp. 151-152).
Furthermore, this “taking,” “eating,” and “drinking” in the Supper are not only to be understood as physical actions, but as the spiritual actions of the subject. As Augustine said, “Why dost thou prepare thy teeth and belly? Believe, and thou hast eaten.” (Tractate 25). Matthew Henry similarly comments,
“This is here exhibited, or set forth, as the food of souls. And as food, though ever so wholesome or rich, will yield no nourishment without being eaten, here the communicants are to take and eat, or to receive Christ and feed upon him, his grace and benefits, and by faith convert them into nourishment to their souls.” (Com. 1 Cor. 11:24). [4]
Hence, infants are capable of physically and spiritually participating in baptism (passively), but are not capable of participating actively in the Lord’s Supper. This will become more clear in our next point.
3) Infants Benefit from Baptism but Not from the Supper
Thirdly, regarding the efficacy of the sacraments, infants benefit from baptism outwardly and are able to inwardly, whereas they can not benefit from the Supper in either way.
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The sovereignty of God over us is the sovereignty of a potter over his clay. To assert ourselves as the centre of all things, and to exclude him as sovereign, we must reject his claim over us as our Potter. And of course, this is what we have done. 

I can’t remember who first taught me this axiom of Bible reading, but I have been forever grateful. When you come across a knotty passage in Scripture, don’t glide past it—untie it.
A confusing or confounding passage is an opportunity to learn. Sometimes knotty verses reveal our ignorance, or that we haven’t understood the passage—such as when we’re reading Hebrews 6 and the obscure figure of Melchizedek suddenly looms out of the mist and we wonder what’s he got to do with the price of fish.
But sometimes we come across Bible verses that are knotty and confounding not because they are obscure but because we find them objectionable. They tie us in knots. They cut across our assumptions or expectations about what God is like or we are like or the world is like. They expose our deepest, baseline attitudes and beliefs, and where they have gone astray.
We had one like this in church last Sunday. In Romans 9, after talking about how God will have mercy on some people and harden other people, and that it’s entirely up to him, Paul then asks the obvious rhetorical question:
You will say to me then, “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” (v 18)
Fair enough question, you might think. If God calls all the shots, then why are we to blame for finding ourselves on his bad side? And then comes this:
But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is moulded say to its moulder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honourable use and another for dishonourable use? (vv 19-20)
Perhaps there are more objectionable verses in the Bible than these ones, but surely not by much.
Something deep within my Western soul rages against these ideas. Me, a lump of clay?! An object in the hands of a Supreme Being to do with what he wants? How utterly dehumanising and oppressive! Whatever happened to human dignity? Surely this is the poisonous spirit of primitive religion at its worst. “As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods, They kill us for their sport” (King Lear, 4.1.36-37).
As the preacher on Sunday pointed out, these verses in Romans 9 are difficult for us because we are profoundly convinced that we are at the centre of the universe, not God. We can’t cope with the idea that we might be bit players in someone else’s drama, rather than the star of our own story.
This is old as Adam and Eve. But it’s a particularly virulent problem for modern, Western people like us. It’s part of what we used to call our ‘worldview’, and which some clever people these days call our ‘social imaginary’, and which (in the words of that philosophical treatise, The Castle) you could think of simply as ‘the Vibe’.  It’s the complex, often unstated web of beliefs and assumptions about ourselves and the world, which our culture constantly reinforces and transmits to us, which we absorb and come to accept, and upon which we operate day by day.
For nearly three centuries, our Western culture has been steadily constructing a Vibe in which God is excluded, and man is the centre and measure of all things. We don’t even notice or articulate this any more. We just live as if it’s the case. The debates we have with each other on any issue (political, social, ethical) proceed on this basis. The stories we tell each other—in movies and TV shows and books—assume it and reinforce it constantly.  It’s hard to imagine any Hollywood movie in which God is the potter and we are the clay, unless of course we are the plucky heroic figures of clay, who come to life, follow our hearts, destroy the evil oppressive potter, and go on to realise all our dreams.
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