The scene was reminiscent of a scary movie. Julia walked out to the church parking lot and found an ominous note taped to her car window: “I SEE YOU!”

Though she thought I was hundreds of miles away, I was actually nearby, watching the entire scene unfold. When she began to nervously look around, I took that as my cue and drove up next to her. As she stared in shock, I asked in the smoothest way possible, “Wanna take a ride?” (Yes, I had rehearsed it many times.) She joyfully got in the car, and a few hours later, I got down on one knee and asked if she would marry me. She said yes.

The cryptic three-word message was actually not the way I intended to start the morning. I had crafted the perfect poem to start our engagement day, but it got lost somewhere between my hotel and the church. With only a few seconds to write something, “I SEE YOU!” was all I could come up with.

We used to think our engagement was perfect except for those hastily written three words. Ironically, after 22 years of marriage, that note has become one of our favorite parts of the day. In fact, one of our marriage goals is to regularly and intentionally communicate what first happened on accident: “I see you.” While many fantasize about falling in love at first sight, we’ve discovered a better dream: a marriage that furthers love with each additional sight.

God Saw

It took a few years of marriage before I realized the power of sight as a way to pursue Julia. Up to that point, I was focused on developing my listening skills. Then, right when I began to make progress on that, God revealed (in perfect Godlike fashion) a new need for development: looking skills. We get a glimpse of the power of sight in the way God describes Israel’s suffering in Egypt:

God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel — and God knew. (Exodus 2:24–25)

By developing our listening and looking skills, we unlock a powerful combination in our marriages. When we listen, we communicate that our wife has been heard. When we look, we communicate that she is known and understood.

Unfortunately, far too many wives are overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness. Day after day, they feel invisible to the man they love. When I reflect on my own marriage and the real reasons why I don’t actively bless my wife as God intends, I admit that one of my main obstacles is optical. I don’t actually see what’s happening around me because I’m not really looking.

Savior with Wide Eyes

My breakthrough started with a study on all that Jesus noticed. Our Savior walked through life with eyes wide open. Jesus noticed Nathaniel under a tree (John 1:48) and Zacchaeus up in a tree (Luke 19:5). He noticed John’s disciples following at a distance (John 1:38) and the touch of one desperate woman while the masses pressed around him (Luke 8:45). Jesus watched in moments we think you shouldn’t, such as when the poor widow put all she had into the offering treasury (Luke 21:1–4). He also watched in moments we know we couldn’t, such as when he himself was the offering.

Even as he hung on the cross in intense agony, his eyes looked beyond his own suffering and responded with love. He prayed for those who crucified him (Luke 23:34), comforted a criminal next to him (Luke 23:43), and cared for his loved ones there for him (John 19:26–27). And through it all, Jesus kept his eyes on the work of his Father (John 5:19–20). Simply put, Jesus’s entire life and ministry deliberately and compassionately communicated, “I see you.”

I don’t wake each day with the burden to perfect who Jesus is for my wife, but I do rise with the great privilege to reflect him.

Three Paths to Better Sight

Empowered by the truth that God keeps me as “the apple of [his] eye” (Psalm 17:8), I made the commitment to be a man who takes literally the command that “each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:4). Over the years, I have landed on three practices that promote a marriage culture that sees: stop, scribe, and speak.

STOP

When Moses discovered a bush on fire yet not consumed, he stopped to see what was going on. What happens next is worth reading slowly: “When the Lord saw that [Moses] turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’” (Exodus 3:4). When Moses stopped to see, the Lord started to lead. I believe the same principle is true for each of us in our various relationships, whether with God, wife, or children. When we stop to see, the Lord may start to lead.

Apart from praying, I can’t think of a more effective use of my time than to stop what I’m doing and think about what I’m seeing in the life of my bride. These moments are always beneficial, and the main requirement is that I create the space with a curious spirit.

SCRIBE

After taking the time to stop, I embrace the mindset of a scribe, taking notes on what I’m seeing. My observations are usually focused under a few main categories:

What makes her happy or sad?
What are her consistent dreams or disappointments?
What relaxes her or increases her stress?
What has she mentioned that could be a great “just because” gift?

I’m both excited and embarrassed when I go to scribe. The excitement comes from the awareness that God is leading; I’m seeing things! The embarrassment comes from reading previous observations and recognizing how quickly and easily they slipped my mind. But at least I see them again, because I’m a scribe. I encourage you to write what you see, because there is power in the pen (Deuteronomy 17:18).

SPEAK

Last, after taking the time to stop and scribe what I see, I speak.

My first words are to God on Julia’s behalf. Genesis 25:21 tells us, “Isaac prayed to the Lord for his wife, because she was barren. And the Lord granted his prayer, and Rebekah his wife conceived.” I love the simple words “Isaac prayed . . . because she was . . .” As a prayer prompt, I will write these very words on a page and fill in the blank with as many things that come to mind: “Matty prayed . . . because Julia was . . .” Sentences like this give me a practical way to take all that I have seen and speak them to the One who cares for my wife most. Perhaps you don’t need a prompt like this to inspire you, but I sure do. I fear becoming the kind of husband of whom it could be written, “Matty did not pray for his wife, but she was . . .”

While the first words are spoken to God, additional words often come later. When I consistently stop to see, I find that my speech to Julia routinely lands with substance and strength. While I never assume the ability “to sustain with a word him who is weary” (Isaiah 50:4), I am keenly aware of where that ability comes from. Speaking such words begins with hearing (Isaiah 50:4), and hearing often begins with seeing (Exodus 3:4). This is the life-giving power that a husband kick-starts when he simply takes the time to see.

The part of the country we call home is adjacent to the Appalachian Trail, with some of the nation’s most beautiful viewpoints. Typically, the higher you go, the more clearly you see. For me, cultivating the simple yet consistent practice to stop, scribe, and speak is akin to walking up three giant steps that give me a higher, more breathtaking view of how good and generous God has been to me through my wife. It’s amazing what you can see when you are looking!

To answer the question, “What authority do pastors have?” you have to pick a side in the polity debates. I choose elder-led congregationalism. My sense, however, is that many Christians and pastors avoid the topic of polity because it’s contested territory. Maybe it feels unimportant.

Besides, can’t we read through 1 and 2 Timothy, Titus, and passages like Acts 20:17–38 and 1 Peter 5:1–4, and easily answer the question? Elders have (1) a general authority of oversight over the whole church as well as (2) the authority to teach and conduct the ordinances. That much is straightforward. Baptists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, Anglicans, and elder-ruled independent churches all agree.

Furthermore, Protestants agree that pastors or elders (I use the terms interchangeably) don’t have the authority to dispense absolution for sin. We agree they are not a separate class of mediators. Martin Luther remarked, “There really is no difference between laymen and priests . . . except that of office and work, but not of ‘estate’; for they are all of the same estate” (Works of Martin Luther, 2:69). And we agree they can never sit in the so-called “chair of Peter,” speaking infallibly with an authority equal to Scripture. Pastors can make mistakes, and their words must be tested in good Berean fashion against the word of God (Acts 17:11). Think of how Peter himself messed up (e.g., Galatians 2:11–14).

These points of agreement are important. A wrong view of pastoral authority can undermine the gospel (by turning pastors into mediating priests who provide access to grace) and undermine Scripture (by giving their words equal authority to Scripture). So praise God for this consensus.

Inside of Protestantism, however, differences emerge that impact Christian discipleship and the good of the church. As an illustration, think of the difference between a monarchy and a democracy. Those larger structural differences impact the authority of the “leaders” as well as the culture and civic life of everyone. I don’t believe our Protestant differences are as dramatic as monarchies versus democracies. The point is merely that the larger structural context shapes what authority the pastor-elders have. Therefore, we have to account for it.

With all that in mind, consider one principle on context plus seven more on pastoral authority.

Congregational Authority

Principle 1: The gathered congregation possesses the final priestly authority to affirm the what and the who of the gospel — confessions and confessors.

Protestants from Martin Luther and John Calvin to the Presbyterian Church of America (PCA) and the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) uniformly agree that every Christian is a priest. That expresses itself in the election of officers. It also means any believer can baptize in a pinch. Says Luther, “In cases of necessity any one can baptize . . . which would be impossible unless we were all priests” (67). Any believer can interpret Scripture: “An ordinary man may have true understanding; why then should we not follow him” against any errors of popes or bishops (74)? Any believer can reprove the pope or another erring Christian: “But if I am to accuse him before the Church, I must bring the Church together” (76–77).

The priesthood of all believers, for a Protestant, means that church authority ultimately roots in every believer’s union with Christ. The nineteenth-century Presbyterian James Bannerman writes, “The primary grant from Christ of Church power is virtually, if not expressly and formally, made to believers in that grant which makes all things, whether pertaining to the present or the future, to be theirs in Christ Jesus” (The Church of Christ, 272). After all, that church on the desert island whose pastors all die “must have within themselves all power competent to carry on the necessary functions and offices of a Church” (273).

Beyond this shared position, however, the congregationalists and the non-congregationalists diverge. Advocates of elder-ruled (non-congregationalist) churches — like Bannerman and Luther and every Anglican or independent Bible church you know — have to make some kind of argument that, even if the whole church in some formal sense possesses final authority, that authority has been given to the elders to exercise. That distinction between possession and exercise can be found, for instance, in both the PCA’s and Orthodox Presbyterian Church’s (OPC) books of church order.

An elder-led congregationalist like me, however, would argue that, if you cannot exercise authority, then, logically, you do not possess authority. But never mind logic. In Matthew 18, Jesus explicitly hands the keys of the kingdom to the gathered congregation to render judgment on the what and the who of the gospel — confessions and confessors (Matthew 18:17–18; see also 16:19). And nowhere in the New Testament are these keys handed exclusively to pastors. In fact, Paul calls the Corinthian congregation to use them with the “power” of the Lord Jesus when they are “assembled” (1 Corinthians 5:4). He doesn’t tell the elders to use them on Thursday night in their elders meeting. Likewise, he tells not the Galatian pastors but the Galatian churches to declare anyone teaching a false doctrine “cursed” or anathema (Galatians 1:9).

“If you cannot exercise authority, then, logically, you do not possess authority.”

That means, Christian, that if one of your pastors starts to teach false doctrine, it’s your job to fire him, together with your other church members. And Christ will call you to account on the day of judgment if you don’t.

This priesthood of all believers within an elder-led congregation is the context within which the following points fit.

Heart of Pastoral Authority

Principle 2: Pastors have authority to lead the congregation in knowing which confessions to make and which confessors to affirm.

If the congregation as a whole renders final judgment on right doctrine, whose interpretation and teaching of the Bible will count as a church’s interpretation? One member may have one interpretation; another person another. If the judgments of the church as a whole bind every member, whose interpretation binds the church as a whole?

Answer: the elders’ interpretation. They’re the ones who say, “Church, these are the doctrines we believe.” The congregation then formally affirms, “Yes, those are the doctrines we believe,” making those doctrines a point of official and binding agreement (Matthew 18:19). The congregation makes the final judgment in matters of doctrine and membership, but the elders lead or tell the congregation which judgments to make. This is why the elders ordinarily preach and teach. This is why they ordinarily lead in the ordinances and in membership interviews and so forth. They’re the shepherds standing at the gate of the sheep pen.

Think again of 1 Corinthians 5. Paul tells us he has “pronounced judgment” on the man sleeping with his mother-in-law: remove him (verse 3). Yet is the deed done? No. He calls the church to “judge” the man in the same way (verse 12). Paul, I believe, is acting here like a pastor. He shows us the relationship between elder authority and congregational authority. The congregation has the final say, but the pastors tell them what that final say ought to be.

Extension of Pastoral Authority

Principle 3: Pastors’ authority of oversight includes other matters impacting the whole church.

Pastors also have authority to oversee other decisions of the congregation. Think of the Greek-speaking widows being neglected in the daily distribution of food in Acts 6. That was a big deal. The church was dividing, and widows weren’t getting food. High stakes. Therefore, the apostles, who preferred to spend their time praying and preaching, stepped in and recommended a solution. The solution heavily involved the congregation, yet the apostles, acting like good pastors, exercised oversight.

Likewise, pastors and elders should generally stay out of administrative details, like what color the carpet in the Sunday school classroom should be, or whether the nursery volunteers should wear matching T-shirts (this decision was handed to my elders once). In general, they should involve themselves only in the decisions that impact the whole church and the course of its ministry. Should we start a Sunday school class? What translation of the Bible should we preach from? Should our church support Joe and Kathy on the mission field?

Nature of Pastoral Authority

Principle 4: Pastoral authority morally obligates but doesn’t structurally bind.

Insofar as the church as a whole possesses the keys of the kingdom to bind and loose on earth what’s bound and loosed in heaven, the congregation’s decisions are effectually binding — at the structural level. When they remove a member from the church as an act of excommunication, the person really is removed, with or without his consent. The congregation possesses what I have called an authority of command.

The elders, however, possess a different kind of authority, an authority of counsel. (It’s the same with husbands.) An authority of counsel is a real authority. It morally obligates members to obey, and Jesus does not countenance disobedience (see Hebrews 13:7, 17). Consequences exist. Yet the elders cannot dispense those consequences, which are eschatological. Jesus hands them out.

“There’s a sense in which elders possess authority to continually give it away.”

Sure, the elders should depose a foul-mouthed usher or approve a church picnic or plan the preaching schedule. Yet a pastor cannot invite you to his office and then excommunicate you all by himself, at least not if he wants to follow the Bible. Nor should he determine membership apart from the congregation. Membership depends upon the whole congregation’s agreement. That’s what I mean when I say pastoral authority morally obligates, but it doesn’t structurally bind.

The fact that elders (and husbands) possess an authority of counsel and not command dramatically shapes how that authority is used. While a parent can tell a three-year-old to go to bed “right now,” elders must teach “with complete patience” (2 Timothy 4:2). They’re working for growth over time, playing the long game. The goal is not to force decisions but to encourage regenerate church members to make good decisions for themselves. As Paul puts it to Philemon, “Though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do what is required, yet for love’s sake I prefer to appeal to you” (Philemon 8–9).

Here lies the most crucial point of distinction regarding polity differences between Protestants. Elder-ruled churches, whether independent or presbyterian or episcopalian in their structures, grant elders an authority of command. The elders can unilaterally excommunicate members, for instance. On the other hand, small-c congregationalists like Baptists don’t believe they can. And this difference impacts the culture of the church and the nature of its discipleship.

(For more on the difference between authority of counsel and command, see chapter 11 of my book Authority.)

Purposes of Pastoral Authority

Principle 5: Pastors possess authority to equip the church and to divest themselves of authority.

Building on the last point, an authority of counsel is more conducive to discipleship.

Imagine two exercise classes. In class 1, the trainer demonstrates burpees and squats, and then he sends you home. In class 2, the trainer demonstrates burpees and squats, and then he asks you to do them while giving feedback. Which class will better train you?

Now picture two churches. In an elder-ruled church, the elders make a decision about church discipline behind closed doors. In the congregational church, the elders explain what happened, giving just enough details that the church can render judgment with integrity, but not so many details that people stumble; then the elders recommend a course of action, just as Paul does in 1 Corinthians 5. Which church will better train them in Christian discernment, courage, and obedience?

If Paul simply removed the man in 1 Corinthians 5, the Corinthian church would have been deprived of an opportunity to be trained in discernment, courage, and obedience. Yet he involved them. As one commentator put it, Paul did not want the church’s fitness report to read, “Works well under constant supervision” (1 Corinthians, 168–69). Rather, he wanted to instill within them a sense of their joint responsibility for the holiness of the church.

People grow when they’re given opportunities. Not every man in the church will become an elder. But there’s a sense in which elders possess authority to continually give it away. They give others a chance to teach a Sunday school class, to chair a meeting, to lead an evangelistic endeavor, to host a missions reading group, to serve as deacons, to host a small group, to organize a women’s retreat, and so forth. They should even involve the congregation in matters of membership and discipline, which can sometimes get complicated. But this forces them to train the church (see Ephesians 4:11–16). Wise elder training, wise church. Bad elder training, bad church.

Pastoral authority, in short, does not say, “We’re the experts. We’re ordained. You guys can sit down.” This approach often leads to complacent, weak, and eventually doctrinally liberal churches. Rather, pastoral authority says, “Here’s how you swing the club, play the scale, program the computer, love the church. Now you do it.”

Character of Pastoral Authority

Principle 6: Pastoral authority depends upon character, integrity, and example.

To put all this another way, an elder’s authority is tied to his example. Elders don’t “domineer” but set an “example,” says Peter (1 Peter 5:3). Members, meanwhile, “consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith” (Hebrews 13:7). We imitate them as they imitate Christ (1 Corinthians 11:1).

This is why more ink is spilled on the requisite character for pastoring than on the job description. Exemplifying and teaching Christian character is the job description. Pastors’ authority, in other words, is very much tied to their character and integrity.

Think of the qualification “husband of one wife” (1 Timothy 3:2; Titus 1:6). An elder’s marriage may not be perfect, but he sets a good example for other husbands. You’re happy to say to other husbands, “Learn from his example as a husband.”

Integrity of Pastoral Authority

Principle 7: Pastoral authority is both unearned and earned, requiring trust.

Building on the last point, an elder grows in authority by gaining trust.

Now, in one sense, a pastor’s authority does not need to be earned. It’s an office given to him by Jesus and the Holy Spirit (Acts 20:28). Members don’t so much submit to the man as they submit to the office, because that’s submitting to Jesus.

At the same time, an elder will clearly earn more authority for himself as he proves himself trustworthy. Suppose I’m watching two elders, one who treats his wife wonderfully and one who, by my lights, does not. Whom do you think I’m more likely to trust? Furthermore, whose Sunday school lectures on how to be a godly husband am I going to listen to more carefully? And assuming these two men separately correct me for how I’m living with my wife, whom will I more easily and joyfully submit to?

“Trust is the fuel that makes the vehicle of elder authority move forward. It’s the currency elders have to spend.”

Trust is the fuel that makes the vehicle of elder authority move forward. It’s the currency elders have to spend.

While it’s true that a policeman’s or parent’s authority of command will be improved by trust, this is especially true of an elder’s (or husband’s) authority of counsel. After all, policemen and parents can leverage the threat of immediate discipline even when they’re not trusted. An elder (or husband) cannot. And this structural difference that foregrounds the role of trust forces the elder to work harder at his character and integrity.

Location of Pastoral Authority

Principle 8: The difference between one elder’s authority and all the elders’ authority is quantitative, not qualitative.

Historically, Presbyterians have sometimes distinguished between the elders’ joint authority and their several authority. Their joint authority concerns those things they can only do together, like excommunicate someone from the church. Their several authority concerns those things they can do individually, like preach.

As a congregationalist, I would not affirm these two categories in formal or principled terms. Presbyterians need them because they’ve placed the keys of the kingdom into the hands of the elders, such that the elders will do weighty things like receiving or dismissing members, which I would leave in the hands of the whole congregation.

Still, it does seem reasonable to acknowledge that a pastor or elder should avoid some actions or decisions until he involves the other elders, and elders should always work to raise up more elders. Recommending an excommunication to the church is an obvious example of something a pastor should avoid doing on his own. Doing so may not be sin, but it would ordinarily be unwise.

Now consider the difference between one and several elders from the members’ perspective. Insofar as the Bible calls us to “submit” to our elders (Hebrews 13:17), should we think differently about submitting to the counsel of one elder in a conversation over coffee (“Jonathan, I would advise you to . . .”) versus submitting to the entire elder board of, say, six men (“Jonathan, we would advise you to . . .”)? I think the answer is yes. The difference, though, is not qualitative (joint vs. several), but quantitative. The instruction of the one and the instruction of six is made of the same kind of stuff. Yet the instruction of the six should weigh more heavily on my conscience. More men, more weight.

Pastors as Trainers

The topic of authority does not merely impact who gets to make which decisions; it impacts discipleship and the overall patterns of ministry in a church. Within an elder-led congregational model, the fact that elders must bring to the church any decisions that significantly impact the nature, integrity, membership, or mission of the church changes not just the church’s members meetings. It requires elders to do ministry a little differently all week. They approach their jobs less like judges and more like trainers.

After all, the shepherds are sheep too. So they work constantly to strengthen, build up, and equip the saints for their work of being priests and disciple-makers. Then the whole body grows as it builds itself up in love.

As Americans celebrate our nation’s founding on July 4, we remember the group of disparate leaders who came together in Philadelphia in the middle of the 1770s to forge enough unity to set thirteen individual colonies on the road to nationhood. What we have in the Declaration of Independence (itself primarily a document listing disagreements with the English government) came together with much contention and political wrangling. These founding leaders had much in common, but that commonality was put to the test over differences in regional interests, economic concerns, and political philosophy.

Different religious convictions also came into play. While most of the members of the Continental Congress were required to hold to basic Christian truths in order to serve in public office, their denominational commitments and doctrinal distinctives played in the background of the formal debates leading up to the ratification of the Declaration, and those tensions carried on into the founding era of the nation.

It is not hard for us to see in our rancorous times how political and religious differences intertwine as they did in our founding era. What was often in short supply then, as it seems to be now, is a model for holding differences in principles and convictions that do not undermine “the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace,” which sets the people of God apart in a fractured world (Ephesians 4:3).

Among that group of eighteenth-century disparate leaders, however, I did find an unusual founder — in my estimation, a model still worth considering. His name is Elias Boudinot.

Uncommonly Christian

Boudinot (1740–1821) is an important but little-known member of America’s founding generation. He grew up a child of the Great Awakening, sitting under the preaching of George Whitefield, Gilbert Tennent, and, for a brief time, Jonathan Edwards in Princeton. He rose to prominence in New Jersey politics and was a man of national influence in the lead up to the American Revolution. During the war, Boudinot served on George Washington’s staff and later in the Continental Congress; he was also president of the Congress at the signing of the Treaty of Paris to end the war. Boudinot was a major player in the first three federal congresses and then served in the administrations of Washington, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson.

After retiring from public service in 1805, he spent the last decade and a half of his life supporting gospel mission in the states and abroad. His lasting legacy was his formative role in establishing the American Bible Society.

“Boudinot endeavored to lead an honorable life of consistent and ardent Christian faith.”

Throughout all of his public engagements, Boudinot endeavored to lead an honorable life of consistent and ardent Christian faith. Historian James Hutson, who has spent years studying the religious thoughts and lives of the founders, writes, “Boudinot is of particular importance, because he was a born-again Presbyterian, whose evangelical views were probably closer to those of the majority of his countrymen than were those of most of his fellow Founders.”1

Man of Gracious Convictions

Boudinot caught his view of God and the world in the great evangelical revival of the mid-eighteenth century, and he never deviated from the path of his early convictions. At the age of 18, he wrote to his friend William Tennent III,

May the Lord grant that we may make a proper use of the short time we have yet remaining. I can’t but record the great goodness of my gracious Protector as well as Preserver, in granting me restraining grace in my youth, and discovering the inestimable worth of an offered Savior unto me. I bless my God for the great hope that is wrought in us, by the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ from the dead, without which this life would be an intolerable burden, an inconceivable load of anxiety and despair, for vain are the days of man.2

Then, sixty years later, he would testify in his will to his

firm, unfeigned, and prevailing belief in one sovereign, omnipotent, and eternal Jehovah, a God of infinite love and mercy . . . [who] has been and is still reconciling a guilty world unto himself by his righteousness and atonement, his death and his resurrection, through whom, alone, life and immortality have been brought to light in his gospel, and, by all the powerful influences of his Holy Spirit, is daily sanctifying, enlightening, and leading his faithful people into all necessary truth.3

Boudinot did not cloister himself away from conflict and disagreement, however. An attorney by vocation, he made arguments for a living. He was a patriot, an identified member of the colonial elites who chose to rebel against the most powerful nation in his world. During the war, it fell to him to wrangle with the British over the treatment of captured American soldiers, who were treated not like prisoners of war but as traitors. In government, Boudinot was closely tied to Alexander Hamilton, the most polarizing politician of his era. He was also a committed abolitionist, which put him in unresolvable opposition with half of his country.

How might Elias Boudinot teach us, more than two centuries later, to stand on our own convictions with a firm but gracious disposition?

‘One Lord and Master’

First, Boudinot tended to major on what unites and not what divides.

Boudinot never wavered in his own doctrinal convictions, which were thoroughly Calvinistic. Yet the effect of the Bible’s good news on his life played out in both strong personal convictions and a gracious spirit that looked first for commonalities, not division. His interactions with those with whom he differed on issues of faith consistently displayed the biblical call to “pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding” (Romans 14:19). It was a lifelong impulse.

When he was 18, he wrote to a friend, “What a glorious Prospect (said I to myself) would it afford, if mankind in general would unite together, in living harmony and concord, and endeavor to make every circumstance of life tend to the common advantage.”4 Nearly sixty years later, he expressed his enduring desire to “pare off the rough points of party and conciliate minds of those who ought to consider themselves of one family, acknowledging one Lord and Master.”5

“Boudinot tended to look for what unites and not what divides.”

This Christian impulse toward unity when possible would serve him well in the public positions he held during the Revolution and beyond. It would also be a driving motivation late in life, leading him to gather support from across the Christian landscape to form the American Bible Society.

‘Truly Reviving to His People’

Second, Boudinot welcomed evidence of God’s activity even when he differed with those in whom he observed it.

Boudinot was a lifelong friend of the Anabaptist Quakers, seeing in them a piety that he aspired to emulate, though he disagreed deeply on important doctrinal points. Later in life, when the Second Great Awakening broke out in the early 1800s, though leaders in his denomination reacted with concern over its crowd-gathering practices and populist theology, Boudinot watched with fascination. While he shared their cautions, Boudinot had learned firsthand from his father and the leaders of the First Great Awakening to look for authentic spiritual fruit wherever it might be found.

In a letter written in the middle of the War of 1812, we get a glimpse of Boudinot’s mature view of the Christian revival experience.

Blessed be God, who in the midst of judgement remembereth mercy. Although our country is involved in a ruinous offensive war, yet is he proving to his church that he has not altogether forsaken us. The pouring out of his Spirit in various parts of the United States, is truly reviving to his people who stand between the porch and the altar, crying, Lord save thy people. In the eastern parts of New York, in Vermont and Connecticut, the revivals are more interesting than has ever been known. In Philadelphia, the appearances are very promising, and generally speaking in these parts, although there are no appearances of remarkable revivals, yet there is a growing attention to the ordinances of the gospel. Bless the Lord, O our souls, and let all that is within us bless his holy name.6

‘Hearts May Agree, Though Heads Differ’

Third, Boudinot valued denominational fidelity without succumbing to denominational sectarianism.

Boudinot was a man of national prominence for nearly five decades. By the end of his life, he was a revered statesman and a driving influence in Christian mission. But he was at heart a churchman who expressed his religious convictions throughout his life. He was a founding trustee of the Presbyterian General Assembly and was moderator of the assembly at the time of his death. He was also a trustee of the Presbyterian College of New Jersey for nearly half a century, and played a significant role in the formation of Princeton Seminary.

In retiring to Burlington, New Jersey, where there was no Presbyterian church, he could have simply enjoyed his wide range of Presbyterian associations. Instead, he joined the church across the street, St. Mary’s Episcopal, where his participation was lively and committed until the end of his life. A prominent Presbyterian joining an Episcopal church was eyebrow-raising in his day, but Boudinot’s actions demonstrated his large heart and vision for the church of Christ beyond its various and often competing expressions. He wrote to the pastor of his former Presbyterian church about his view of denominational differences,

Hearts may agree, though heads differ. There may be unity of Spirit, if not of opinion, and it is always an advantage to entertain a favorable opinion of those who differ from us in our religious sentiments. It tends to nourish Christian charity. I welcome with cordial and entire satisfaction everything that tends to approximate one denomination of Christians to another, being persuaded that he who is a conscientious believer in Christ cannot be a bad man.7

In a day where the church is wrestling with how to engage the society (and often internal differences) with Christian conviction and conduct, the example of Elias Boudinot can provide a much-needed perspective. Even in times of contention, we can stand with conviction without forfeiting a gracious and peace-loving spirit, and the very conduct commended by Christ and his apostles.