A problem of emphasis

Every now and then I come across a statement like this one I saw recently:

"People should be able to talk about their faith without fear of judgment or reprisal."

Without getting too much into the topic of evangelism and how/when people can and should “talk about their faith,” I want to point out a problem of emphasis when many people say something like the above.

More and more, it seems, the emphasis many Christians will read into a sentence like this one (or intend if they write it themselves) is on the judgment and/or reprisal. That is to say, they mean that Christians should be able to speak openly about their faith and there be no consequences. If a Christian stands up and speaks out about Jesus, they believe, then he/she should have no opposition to it.

I witnessed this not too long ago when it turned up that a man in Scotland had been arrested for street preaching. (Again, I’m not out to engage in questions of methodology today.) I saw a handful of links to articles about this on social media, with comments to the effect of, “They can’t do this—it’s a violation of his rights!"

While that may or may not be so (it certainly is not a “right” granted constitutionally in every country across the world), this is beside the point. When we turn to a “rights” argument we’ve lost the plot, as they say across the pond.

If this is what was meant (or should be meant) by the kinds of statements in question, they should read something like this: “People should be able to talk about their faith without judgment or reprisal from others.” But that’s not what is said!

Rather, it is the fear of judgment and reprisal that we should be without. This is the model we see in the New Testament: time and again, Jesus and the apostles faced the potential of being arrested (or worse) when they would preach the gospel. These potentialities (and actualities) did not stop them; rather, often they returned to preaching as soon as they got out of jail!

Acts 5:27–32 is a clear example of this:

And when they had brought them, they set them before the council. And the high priest questioned them, saying, “We strictly charged you not to teach in this name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching, and you intend to bring this man’s blood upon us.” But Peter and the apostles answered, “We must obey God rather than men. The God of our fathers  raised Jesus, whom you killed by hanging him on a tree. God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and  forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him.” 

What was distinctive about this response was not the insistence that these men has the right to teach and preach whatever they wanted—they didn’t. Rather, what distinguished them was that they said, “We must obey God rather than men."

They had no fear. Not of these leaders. Not of judgment. Not of reprisal.

Today, I hear fellow Christians say that laws passed limiting or restricting our “religious freedoms” are a threat to the gospel, and laws passed that support our “religious freedoms” are a victory for the gospel. No they’re not.

Let me be clear: I’m grateful for our country, and for the freedom that our constitution allows us (regarding our religion, and otherwise). I don’t take that for granted, nor do I wish to casually see it done away with. There are definitely times when I believe that our lawmakers (and law enforcers) act well, in accordance with our constitutional rights, and it is definitely something I give thanks about when it happens.

But the gospel is not beholden to the laws of the United States or any other nation. Indeed, if history is any indicator then the gospel thrives the most when the laws of nations oppose it. If you doubt this, consider where the growth in the church is in the 21st century:  Africa (where most of the countries are decidedly Islamic, culturally and legally) and Asia, especially China (which still has much of the atheistic secularism of its communist history intact). So maybe we can stop talking and acting as if our over-interest in political activity is a matter of the gospel—it’s not.

[There’s nothing wrong with an interest in politics. Politics is important generally for our culture. It’s a fine hobby for some, and a reasonable profession for some others. But it’s not a gospel matter—not in the “what must I do to be saved?” way. Even the Theonomists would agree with that, I think.]

What hinders the gospel—especially in a nation like the United States—isn’t the legal system. It’s not the liberal media or the secular pop culture. It’s the apathy of humankind for their fellow man, as manifested in our individualism. It’s our lack of belief that God actually can and will save those who are opposed to him. And it is our fear of the judgment of others, and our lack of willingness to suffer any inconvenience (let alone actual hardship) for the gospel’s sake.

I’m pointing the finger at myself here, but I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in being at fault in these ways.

What if we cared a little more for our neighbors? What if we believed God’s Word when it says that our neighbors can be saved? And what if we weren’t ashamed to love them well in the name of Jesus?

Can Elders Rotate?

I was recently (briefly) part of a discussion on a Facebook group for PCA Teaching Elders and Ruling Elders (I know, that may sound like it has strong potential to be a dull-fest—it’s actually a great group), and the topic was on elders—specifically, ruling elders in this case—having an agreed-upon “rotating Session” system.

For those unaware, here’s a brief synopsis: ordination to the office of ruling elder is life-long and perpetual, unless an elder gives up his office either voluntarily or involuntarily (the latter being due to a discipline issue). However, elders are not always active in their office; some will step off of “active duty” on their Session for a time, or perhaps they move to another congregation and aren’t (yet) elected to serve in the office. The question, then, is whether a Session should be “permanent,” in which case an elder serves indefinitely unless/until he moves or requests a break; or whether a Session should be “rotating,” wherein elders serve for a defined “term” of some stated number of years, after which he rotates off for a stipulated period of time.

Part of what makes this a controversial topic is the fact that in a rotating system, elders typically must be re-elected by the congregation in order to resume duties as active Session members. This seems, to some, to be antithetical to the perpetual nature of the office of elder. This is a sticking-point for most discussions (at least the ones that I’ve been a part of) on this topic.

For full disclosure, let me say that I lean favorably toward rotating Sessions, as I believe they have many merits and, in healthy congregations, few disadvantages. I should also note that neither of the congregations I have served as pastor have had them; and, in both cases, I was happy to submit to my fellow elders and to the will of the congregation about the matter.

In the particular discussion that I mentioned above, there were a number of points raised (or at least referred to), which I’d like to address. I believe that the stock answers to these questions, especially from the decriers of the rotating Session concept, are shortsighted and/or somewhat lacking in nuance. Therefore, this isn’t meant as rebuttal, but rather as a “fuller sense” of the questions and issues at hand.

(A couple of supporting “documents” were mentioned in this discussion, and I will respond to two of them directly; one is a blog post, which can be found here: Should Elders Be Ordained for Life?; the other is an article by John Sittema, from the OPC’s Ordained Servant magazine, entitled “Some Thoughts on Term Eldership." A further note here: I looked for John Murray’s article, “Arguments Against Term Eldership,” to no avail; perhaps it has been pulled down from sites that previously had it, as it is apparently included in a collection of works by Murray published by Banner of Truth.)

Claim #1: no biblical warrant

One of the most emphatically asserted claims is that “there is no biblical warrant for rotating terms of eldership.” It’s true; there is no proof text that I or anyone can point to where one of the apostles urged elders to rotate on and off of Sessions. Open and shut case?

Not quite. As the author of the URCNA blog linked above acknowledges, there is no biblical warrant for forbidding them outright, either! In fact, what is striking to me is that Scripture is essentially silent on the question of whether a ruling elder can or should serve indefinitely or on a rotating basis. At best, this question should be seen as an example of adiaphora—matters that are not essential, and of which Scripture displays a certain amount of indifference with regard to practice. (To say otherwise is to shift the burden of proof—which is a fallacious argument. It may also be a case of Bulverism.)

Two other factors on the “biblical warrant” question come to mind, though. First, if we insist that the lack of any biblical support for a rotation system means that it shouldn’t be done, doesn’t that also prohibit any kind of sabbatical or inactive duty whatsoever? In other words: as long as an elder remains a member of a congregation that has installed him as a ruling elder, is there any biblical justification for any cessation of that active duty (short of a sin/discipline issue)? It seems like you can’t really have it both ways here.

Second: when we lack a normative or prescriptive basis from Scripture (as we absolutely do with this issue), it’s useful to look for examples. Admittedly, we don’t have examples of ruling elders rotating off or taking sabbaticals from their duties. But we do have examples of teaching elders who do so! (Think of Timothy and Apollos, who served as pastors of New Testament-era churches, but only for a time before stepping down.) And interestingly, it often seems to be the stringent “two-office” guys who protest the loudest about a rotating system (the PCA Position Paper on the number of offices is helpful in understanding what this means). But if ruling and teaching elders are the same office utterly, why the double-standard when it comes to how pastors (teaching elders) are called to local churches, but usually only for a season? In other words, why don’t we expect pastors to serve congregations for the duration of their active lives of ministry? 

(I’ll admit that this last point is weaker; I believe, though, that its weakness is due to the inconsistency inherent to a straight-up “two office” view.)

Roy Taylor remarked that, "To argue that a rotational system is "unbiblical" is to infer that Calvin, Knox and the First General Assembly of the Church of Scotland (to which we trace our lineage) were either ignorant of the biblical teaching, in the least, or deliberately chose to ignore the biblical teaching.” Are we ready to do that?

Claim #2: the permanence of the office

Another problem highlighted with a rotating system is that it appears (to some) to fly in the face of our view of the office of elder as a permanent office: men who are ordained to the office never stop being elders. How can you have this and also a rotating Session?

Sittema is helpful here, as he points out the unfortunate association of the concept of “election” with regard to church offices to other forms of “election,” particularly of the more political form. This, he says, introduces some “bad habits” in terms of a congregation’s view of what it means when they elect men to serve as active Session members. He’s right, too, that such a bad habit—or rather, severe misunderstanding—leads to a highly problematic understanding of what an elder’s role in the local church actually is. In this case, a rotating system can be a further obstacle toward proper understanding of the office; indeed, it can further entrench the misunderstandings.

I think there are two things going on here, and both should be addressed. First, if there are misunderstandings about what elders do, they should be corrected. It is the Session’s job to instruct the congregation in the proper concepts of eldership—what it is, and what it isn’t—and to labor faithfully to disciple their flock in what they should expect from their elders. There is absolutely a pastoral and shepherding nature to the office, as is clear from Scripture and from the PCA’s (and others’s) church order; this is not in dispute by either side of this discussion. Elders must shepherd; they are not merely “board members” (which is exactly why I despise the label “Elder Board” instead of “Session”). 

Second, I believe there is a persistent misunderstanding in the PCA (again, among others) in the difference between “being an elder” and “being a member of the Session.” A church’s Session is the seat of its oversight, and is the sole authoritative body for a local congregation. No elder has any authority unto himself, except that which the Session delegates to him (this includes the pastor!). Elders are shepherds, and no less than that—but also, apart from their function as members of the Session, no more than that. 

This is actually the very reason why a healthy rotation system can benefit a congregation. The Session's authority and oversight requires certain kinds of work and demands attention that can sometimes stand in the way of a shepherd fulfilling all of his ordinary shepherding duties. (Most of us who are elders have been a part of Sessions where some matter arises that requires every minute of attention we can give it, for a season; this isn’t ideal, but it is the reality.) When an elder rotates off of the Session, he doesn’t cease to be an elder to the congregation; his responsibilities as an overseer, however, are lessened. In at least two congregations I’ve worked with (prior to my own ordination) where a rotating Session was in place, the “inactive” elders were really even more active in their shepherding of the congregation! They were freed to focus on visitation, teaching, and other shepherding responsibilities because they weren’t also given the demands of the congregation’s oversight.

Again, Sittema is helpful on this; even as he personally objects to rotating systems, he urges: “If your congregation elects elders for terms of office, and then grants them release from active duty for a time, make clear to all that they are still in service, even though the nature of their service may be changed for a time."

Claim #3: the lack of continuity 

A frequent complaint about a rotating system is that an elder serving a three-year term is barely getting started in his work before his term is up! And it is true that a three-year term (which is a very common length of term for rotating systems) goes by very quickly. An elder serving for only three years would have to hand off a lot of responsibilities, and each hand-off would potentially slow down the progress of the proper oversight of the church. Is there a problem of continuity in a rotating system?

Probably not—mainly because this is something of a straw-man argument. It’s true that most rotating systems specify some term in the three- or four-year range. However, I’ve never seen such a system in place that didn’t allow, or even expect, that two consecutive terms could/would be served back-to-back. So now we’re up to six years.

(In one church where I worked, there were at least two examples of men who had been asked to serve a third term of a single year—and, upon his concurrence, the congregation had voted to approve this. Admittedly, this begins to undermine the very purpose of a rotating system! But it goes to show that, when continuity demands it, such a system can accommodate.)

Further, any major lack of continuity many indicate a lack of understanding of what it means to be an elder (see #2 above)—because, in a healthy system, an elder rotating off of his Session should actually be able to do more in terms of shepherding. This may extend to his participation in presbytery or Assembly-level work, as well, as there is no stipulation (to my knowledge) that, for example, elders serving on presbytery committees or commissions must be active on their congregation’s Session. 

Also: hand-offs happen all the time. Sometimes they are inconvenient, and even problematic. But there is very little difference in a hand-off that happens because of an elder retiring or moving, and a hand-off that happens because of a rotation. Oh, but one difference is key: with a rotation system, the hand-offs are both expected and normal, so everyone is used to it.

Claim #4: not enough men

Opponents of rotating systems state that rotations mean that leaders are annually burdened with the responsibility of finding qualified men as candidates. Nominations, training, examinations, and elections have to take place each year, in order to fill the next year’s “class” of elders. And what if no qualified men are found? Sessions will find less-than-qualified men and “create an Ishmael” (so says the URCNA blog post) instead of waiting for the Lord. What about this?

Here we have a continuation of the straw-man from #3, because the possibility of current elders serving consecutive terms is not taken into account. If there are no fit candidates to be newly-ordained and installed, then it is likely that at least some of the elders whose term is “up” can remain active for a second term.

This argument also ignores the fact of a long-standing rotating system: that, potentially, there will be a handful of men in the congregation who have served as elders previously and who are currently inactive; and, that these men might be re-activated for a new season of service on the Session. In a healthy church with a rotation, elders are multiplied over the years and there is virtually always a pool of fit, trained, and experienced candidates.

But isn’t this claim also an indictment against the pastors and elders who have neglected discipleship of their congregations? In a church where discipleship is actively occurring (led by the elders, teaching and ruling), God raises up those who will be led into service—as volunteers, as teachers, as deacons, and yes—as elders. Could it be that the reason why there is often such a shortage of “qualified” men for eldership is because the current elders haven’t identified men that could be qualified and sought to prepare them to be such?

Claim #5: not enough men, part deux

One interesting claim against a rotating Session is that it keeps the Session from growing to the size that it could if every possible elder simply was added to the existing Session. Many hands make light work—and by rotating some off, it keeps the workload unnecessarily high for the active elders. Shouldn’t we simply build up our Sessions with every elder that we can?

Three problems here. First, this continues the fallacy that an “inactive” elder is doing nothing at all. If inactive elders continue to fulfill their office as they are able, the workload will be diluted for the rest. 

Second, if a Session is concerned that the ratio of elders to congregants is getting too imbalanced, there may be deeper problems at work. It may be that the congregation is growing numerically, but not enough discipleship is going on to accommodate the growth in a spiritual parallel—and consequently, there are not enough potential candidates to be nominated for eldership. Or it could be that the Session simply isn’t accounting for this numeric growth in the way that they present the need for elders to the congregation, come time for nominations—and they need to ask for more elders than before.

Ultimately, though, this isn’t the Session’s final decision. In the PCA at least, our church order states that the congregation determines the number of officers to be elected, not the Session. The Session can (and should) make recommendations, and if they have taught their members well on the function and role of the elder then the congregation should happily accommodate the need for more elders! But it is the congregation’s decision. (Which, I would argue, means that the decision for whether a Session should be permanent or rotating should also be a congregational decision, after much instruction.)

Claim #6: we just don’t do that around here

In Sittema’s article from The Ordained Servant, he acknowledges that a rotation system (“term-eldership” in his words) is more of a “continental Reformed” approach to church order, rather than one of the Scottish/Westminster persuasion. The URCNA post perpetuates this, too, touting that the permanent/indefinite Session has a “long history” going back to our Scottish roots. Are we bound to a permanent Session because of our presbyterianism?

I’m all for learning from the wisdom of our tradition, and I definitely think we shouldn’t throw something out that is a long-standing universal practice (and especially not because it is a long-standing practice!). Yet here’s another potential fallacy, or a couple of them: this could be an inverse Chronological Snobbery (claiming that it is true simply because today’s thinkers are inherently inferior to those in a past era, also called an Appeal to Tradition) or an Inductive Fallacy (saying “here are many examples, therefore it must be so”). We have to be careful not to fall into a sectarianism about this kind of thing, because the Scots got it wrong sometimes, too. 

Why can’t we learn from the continentals, as well as from the Scots and Westminster folk? I don’t see why there must be a bifurcation, especially on something like this.

In the PCA, our Stated Clerk, Roy Taylor, commented extensively on the question of whether a rotating system is allowable within our polity. He said:

A rotational system of officers is in keeping with the early history flowing from the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century. John Calvin led in restoring the office of Ruling Elder in reforming the polity of the Church in Geneva in the Reformation. Those who hold to Presbyterian polity trace their theological-polity lineage to him. Calvin instituted a rotational system of officers. It is interesting to note that they had one-year terms.

Is a rotating system “un-presbyterian”? Not according to our polity, nor that of some key players in our heritage. 

Freedom for Sessions!

Let me state plainly what I implied above: Sessions are free to go in either direction here. I may have a strong opinion about it, and many reasons why I think a rotating system is beneficial—but it would be wrong of me to impose that on even my own Session if they are not in agreement. It would be even more wrong of me to insist that other Sessions choose one way or the other, because there is no right and wrong direction to go here. Frankly, those who assert that there is are the ones in the wrong, in my view.

Rethinking the church's role in civic marriage

We have an interesting situation facing our culture (by which I mean, the American culture): for the first time in history, the definition of "marriage" is vastly different in the Christian church from what the state (by which I mean, the civic governing authorities) says that it is.

Background

Historically, the Christian church has defined marriage as a covenantal relationship between a man and a woman, bound together before God and committed to maintaining God's standards for what constitutes that marriage. Marriage was given to us by God for particular purposes: for the mutual help of the husband and wife, for having children, and for prevention of sin. Marriage is not the same as other relationships that the Bible describes as "lawful" (such as friendships, parent/child, work-oriented relationships, etc.) or that the Bible declares to be "unlawful" (including same-sex relationships, marital affairs, and others). Some may disagree with whether this position is "right" (and obviously some do), but whether that has historically been the church's position is indisputable. Also historically (and continuing to the present), the church and state have held hands in a peculiar practice. In a tacit acknowledgement of the origins of marriage and the church's right and authority in the institution of marriage, the common practice and legal allowance is that pastors, priests, rectors, and ministers are allowed to function as civil magistrates when it comes to marriage. How so? They are recognized as a legitimate authority who may sign the marriage license. Whereas a pastor or priest asserting civic authority in any other realm would be laughed at, in this one sphere they are granted the strange status of being both ecclesiastical and civil authority. More recently, and increasingly across the country, individual states are passing laws that define marriage more broadly, including the allowance of same-sex couples to marry with the same recognition of their marriages as those whose marriages would fit the definition of the historical church above. There are different arguments for why this is being done, but the underlying rationale pins on two presuppositions: (a) that homosexual practices are not morally or ethically wrong, and any individual or institution that claims otherwise is bigoted and misled; and (b) that practicing homosexuals deserve the same rights civically as any other citizen. Thus, they conclude, any restriction to the civic rights afforded by marriage on the basis of some moral or ethical restriction is wrong, and should be removed.

What's my point

The second premise above is not the focus of my post today, and frankly I wouldn't dispute it (as I've blogged about already; see "Inconsistency in opposition to civil unions"). Really, the first premise is not the focus of my post either, except to say that it finds little to no support in the Bible when any orthodox hermeneutic is applied, and therefore is not a claim that should carry much authority with Christians. Rather, my focus is on the sticky wicket that this change in status quo presents to the church. To get there, I'll need to unpack the implications of the American pastor's strange function as quasi-magistrate a bit further. A marriage in a church is recognized by the state as legitimate and licit, because the pastor is given that right to officiate both the ecclesiastical and the civil aspects of the marriage. Likewise—by default—a marriage that is recognized as legitimate and licit by the state is presently assumed also to be legitimate and licit in the eyes of the church. Which is to say, if two Christians choose to elope rather than hold a traditional wedding, and they employ the services of a justice of the peace to officiate, then they can safely presume that their church will recognize their marriage as a legitimate one. There is something of a Material Equivalence at work: in either case, the circumstances of a marriage presided-over by a recognized officiant meets both the necessary and sufficient conditions for the marriage to be deemed licit by both the church and the state. With the recent changes to the laws of many states (and the likely inevitability of the same in most, if not all, of the remaining states), however, this logic fails. There may be sufficient conditions on both sides, but now there is a missing necessary condition for the church: the certainty that particular requirements are met to qualify the marriage as biblically licit. Without this certainty, the church can no longer be assured that a marriage approved by the state is a truly licit marriage ecclesiastically. To be sure, this is not, in itself, exactly new; with the proliferation of "no-fault divorce" in the 1970s, this certainty dissolved. It has long been possible for a husband to abandon his wife, divorce her, and elope with his mistress—and for that marriage to be presumed to be a legitimate, biblically-licit marriage. Frankly, we should have acted on the implications of this decades ago, and our inattention has caught up with us.

Some solutions

How we got to where we are is a long and winding path, and includes many concessions and missed opportunities through the last many years. One could argue that this was an inevitable conclusion for our culture to reach, and they may be right. But here we are nevertheless, and though hindsight may be 20/20, foresight and wisdom for the days ahead is what we need. We do seem finally to have come to a fork in the road, and I believe it is time for the church and the state to quit holding hands. The Material Equivalence that was the logical basis of our implicit acknowledgement of civilly-officiated marriages has been dissolving for years, and is no longer present in any reliable form. The function of the pastor as civil magistrate when it comes to marriage needs to come to an end. This is actually the way it is in most other countries in the world! If you want to have the civic benefits of some sort of formalized union, you apply to the state for a marriage license and have the (regular) magistrate sign it. If you want the blessings of the church on your marriage, you see your pastor or priest and he officiates. And if you want both, then you must follow through with both. A long-time friend of mine who is a political consultant in South Carolina recently blogged about this topic as well. In an interaction that followed, I asked him whether he thought the best route to sever this relationship between pastors and the state was a political one: passage of a bill that would revoke the pastor's right to sign marriage licenses. He said that we're way to far gone for that: "It's in state law in a thousand places." Thus, it seems like the best route is for pastors and churches to voluntarily lay down our "right" to this role in civic society. To do this, we would need to amend our church constitution (in the PCA, this would mean an amendment to the Book of Church Order) so that this is plainly stated. (I actually presented a proposal for this to my presbytery recently, and it was voted down—but mainly because the wording of it was not as clear as it needed to be. I'll keep working.)

Tricky factors

Moving in this direction will present a few bumps along the way. As I list these, I confess I'm not sure entirely of the implications of them, but I do recognize that they are there. For one, it raises the possibility that some Christians may seek a marriage in the church but not with the state. One friend wondered about whether this would be a way for senior citizens to avoid any implications for their Social Security benefits, for example. I suppose that's possible, but I think it would be difficult to make a solid case for why this would be wrong for Christians to do. It also raises the question about marriage as a creation-wide institution, and that's a good point. We don't see marriage as a sacrament, as it is not for believers only. Nevertheless, many pastors would seriously think twice about officiating a "church wedding" between two non-Christians as if their marriage was no different than that of two Christians. And I actually think this distinction is helpful precisely because it draws a clearer distinction between what is present in a Christian marriage versus a non-Christian one. Other questions raised concerned how the church would deal with marriages not conducted by the church (or, for that matter, conducted in churches of a different denomination). Would none of them be recognized? How would the pastor and leadership deal with a civic union/marriage that they didn't believe was legitimate ecclesiastically? These are great questions, but not without some precedent. By analogy (and I want to be careful to distinguish this as an analogy, because we don't view marriage in the same way that we do baptism), when someone presents himself or herself for membership and the question of their baptism from another tradition—Roman Catholicism, say—comes up, then the Session must decide whether they will acknowledge that baptism as legitimate or whether they will require them to be re-baptized. To some degree, we take these case-by-base, but in another sense then patterns and precedents are established. I think marriage would be much the same. I know there are other questions I haven't thought of. What do YOU think? What tricky factors do you see, that I haven't listed?

Liturgy, forms, and "everybody is wrong but me"

Jeremy Walker reports on the Reformation 21 blog that, in essence, the reason for the resurgence of interest in liturgy is because of the absence of spiritually substantial religion. In other words, the only reason why people might prefer a more formal liturgy is, he says, that they hope it might "fill the void" in their spiritually-empty lives.

That's interesting. I don't know Mr. Walker, nor am I aware of what congregation he is a member of—but in the circles I've moved in, it's actually the inverse of this: the people I know who are the most mature, spiritually, seem to have a growing interest in liturgy.

Mr. Walker's fellow Ref21 blogger, Carl Trueman, took him to task for his misunderstandings just 45 minutes later. He takes apart most of Mr. Walker's post better than I could.

All but one key idea. Mr. Walker concludes with this:

"The only thing that arrests the swing is when the anchor drops in the Word of God and simple, unaffected worship enlivened by the Holy Spirit is known and felt by saints who are satisfied with pursuing and enjoying God's promised ends by God's appointed means."

The great irony here is that Mr. Walker is under the impression that "simple" and "unaffected" worship is not, itself, a "form" and a "liturgy" of itself. He is welcome to his preference for a simple and plain form of worship—but let's not pretend that a plain form is anything other than exactly that.

Can non-members take Communion?

…And should they?

I was recently asked by a fellow pastor for my opinion on this topic. He commented (regarding our denomination's polity about who may be admitted to the table of the Lord's Supper), "BCO 58.4 offers us the option of inviting members of a gospel-believing church to participate in the Supper or the option of closed communion. After fencing the table do the elders have a further responsibility to withhold the sacrament from people they know are not members anywhere? Why or why not?"

This is a GREAT question. What do we do with people who have never bothered to join the local church? Should they be permitted to take Communion?

Here's what I said: The BCO structures it the way it does so that Sessions will have the option of choosing for themselves, according to their own convictions (or one could say, so that Sessions would be FORCED to choose for themselves). Most PCA churches have opted (actively or passively) for open Communion, though even this takes different forms.

In my own practice, I almost always say something to the effect of, "this Sacrament is not only for members of ___ church, but for all believers in Christ. Therefore, if you are a member in good standing of a Bible-believing church, we bid you to come and dine."

Now, in my previous congregation, this declaration actually was used of the Holy Spirit to bring conviction to one regular attender's heart, who was not a member anywhere. She came and asked whether she could, in good conscience, take the Sacrament — and I told her that I didn't see any reason why she couldn't/shouldn't join the church and soothe her conscience! So she did, before the next time we served Communion (which we did monthly there).

I know that many will argue that 1 Corinthians 11's warnings about "discerning the body" are the basis by which we should demand an active profession of faith from communicants, i.e., why we shouldn't offer paedocommunion, etc. However, the best exegesis I've seen on that passage actually takes it another direction (based, at least in part, on context): that it isn't about discerning the body of Christ in the elements — understanding His sacrifice on our behalf — as much as discerning the body of Christ in the communion of the saints. In other words, when we take Communion without a clear awareness of the local church and its life together, we are in danger of eating and drinking judgment on ourselves.

Thus, I believe that Elders DO have a responsibility, when the know people are not members, to urge them to rectify that (by offering a profession of faith for membership) in order to protect them from judgment. This serves them well, too, in that their profession of faith is tested and verified by the local church, and not just a matter of their own opinion — and thus, they will know objectively that they are rightly partaking of the Sacrament that is clearly intended to be taken by those who are in union with Christ.

Beyond that, though, I wouldn't go further. The above would, on its face, be a good argument in favor of close or closed Communion, but I stop short of advocating that because:

1. we inevitably have frequent visitors who are, indeed, members in good standing of a Bible-believing church — and we should rejoice in the fellowship that we share in Communion;
2. we've generally done a very poor job (for several generations now) of teaching more comprehensively about the primacy and implications of church membership, and to get to the point where close Communion is appropriate (in light of the above) demands a better and more comprehensive high view of membership — both in our own congregations and in all/most others;
3. the circumstance you describe — where Elders know for sure that there are people taking Communion who are not members anywhere — assumes a relationship between those people and the Elders, or at least one Elder; in which case, there is already the context for the sort of conversation I described to take place.

[That's the end of my response to my friend.]

How should we approach it, then? Are we to conclude that, because our culture has eschewed a high view of the local church, Paul's warnings no longer are in effect? No — but we should approach it more comprehensively, teaching the importance of the local church and the implications of membership (or lack of it). We should approach it more pastorally, exercising concern for "weaker brothers" who don't (yet) see the emphasis that Scripture places on the local church. And we should approach it relationally, working in an organic way to come alongside one another to urge the vitality of healthy church life — and thereby avoiding the pitfalls of formalistic, legislative approaches to such problems.