An English version of “Women, Assemblies, and the Churches of Christ” is available here.

A Spanish PDF is available here.

Porque todos podéis profetizar uno por uno, para que todos aprendan y todos sean exhortados. 1 Corintios 14:31

[Este ensayo ofrece una sucinta defensa de la plena participación de las mujeres en las asambleas que se reúnen para la oración, la alabanza y la edificación mutua. No considero las posibles objeciones ni las perspectivas alternativas que se presentan en este breve texto. Mujeres sirviendo a Dios: Mi camino para comprender su historia en la Biblia (solo ingles) contiene más detalles y una argumentación más completa. Todos los textos bíblicos asumidos y citados en el ensayo se identifican al final.]

Recuerdo la primera vez que escuché a una mujer hablar en la asamblea de una iglesia de Cristo. Estaba visitando una congregación afroamericana en Alabama. En un momento del servicio, el ministro preguntó si alguien quería confesar sus pecados, dar testimonio o pedir oraciones. Varias mujeres se pusieron de pie y respondieron con testimonios, confesiones y peticiones de oración. Descubrí que esto no era raro en las iglesias afroamericanas de Cristo, aunque nunca ocurrió en la congregación integrada en la que crecí de adolescente.

Me impactó. No dije nada, pero me molestó. Era la primera vez, a los veinticinco años, que escuchaba la voz de una mujer en la asamblea, aparte de los cantos congregacionales o las confesiones bautismales.

Me perturbó porque estaba convencido de que las mujeres no debían hablar ni estar de pie ante la asamblea. Toda la autoridad de liderazgo pertenecía a los hombres porque Dios formó primero a Adán, luego a Eva. Esto se aplicaba no solo a la asamblea pública, sino a todo grupo reunido para orar y alabar, ya fuera en una casa o en un parque..

Mis primeros recuerdos

Las conversaciones sobre la participación audible de las mujeres en la oración y la alabanza surgieron en el contexto de si las preadolescentes y adolescentes podían expresar sus peticiones en cadenas de oración, siempre y cuando no fueran ellas quienes iniciaran ni terminaran la cadena. Este fue un tema de conversación ocasional en mi grupo de jóvenes de 1972 a 1974. También se extendió por todo el panorama de las iglesias de Cristo en la década de 1970, especialmente en grupos juveniles y universitarios. Solo algunas voces aprobaron tales prácticas.

La mayoría creía que las niñas no debían participar en voz alta porque Dios formó primero a Adán y luego a Eva, que Dios formó primero a Adán y luego a Eva respondía a muchas preguntas. Significaba que las mujeres no debían enseñar a un niño bautizado de diez años en la iglesia, ni siquiera a su propio hijo. Significaba que las mujeres no podían dirigir un grupo pequeño que incluyera hombres en su propio hogar. Significaba que las mujeres no podían servir la comunión en silencio a la asamblea porque implicaba estar de pie. Significaba que no podían leer las Escrituras a la asamblea, aunque sí podían leerlas en una clase de Biblia. Significaba que podían escribir un sermón para su publicación, aunque no podían expresarlo en una asamblea. Significaba que las mujeres no podían servir como diáconos, votar en las reuniones de negocios ni asistir a ellas, ni dirigir los cantos, aunque podían servir mesas (fuera de la asamblea), dirigir el ministerio de la guardería y comenzar canciones desde su asiento cuando fuera necesario.

Luché con estas prácticas, y en un momento pensé que tenía una justificación sólida, coherente y convincente basada en el hecho de que Dios formó primero a Adán y luego a Eva. Escribí un libro, con un compañero de clase de Freed-Hardeman, defendiéndolo, aunque era un joven soltero de dieciocho a diecinueve años cuando lo escribí. Se publicó en 1978. Estaba convencido de tener razón y de haber leído la Biblia correctamente. Me parecía clara. La Biblia dice lo que dice, y yo la creía.

Después de que mi piadosa madre leyera mi libro, el único comentario que me ha hecho en los últimos cuarenta y dos años fue su respuesta inicial: «Sin duda usas mucho la palabra subordinación en ese libro».

Sentí que el libro la lastimaba de alguna manera. No entendía por qué. En ese momento no tenía la capacidad de simpatizar con ella. Con el tiempo, su comentario me hizo reflexionar y comencé a preguntarme si algo andaba muy mal con mi enfoque.

Un poco de historia entre las iglesias de Cristo

A principios de la década de 1980 leí La mujer de Dios de C. R. Nichol, publicado en 1938. Leerlo me impactó profundamente. Nichol tenía credenciales conservadoras incuestionables. Sus cinco volúmenes de Sana Doctrina (en coautoría con R. L. Whiteside) estaban en la biblioteca de mi padre. Leí cada volumen en mi adolescencia. Prácticamente me aprendí de memoria su enciclopedia bíblica de bolsillo. Cuando tomé La Mujer de Dios, esperaba una perspectiva convencional, pero era muy diferente tanto de mi propia comprensión como de mi experiencia en las iglesias de Cristo.

Nichol creía que las mujeres participaban de forma audible y visible en las asambleas públicas de Corinto y Éfeso. Dirigían las asambleas corintias en oración y exhortaban a los reunidos mediante profecía. Las únicas mujeres silenciadas en Corinto eran aquellas que perturbaban el orden de la asamblea con preguntas incesantes. Creía que las mujeres podían enseñar a los hombres en las clases de Biblia y en otros entornos, aunque no podían predicar con autoridad en la asamblea pública.

No podía creer lo que veía. Nichol defendía la limitada participación de las mujeres en el liderazgo de la asamblea, mientras que las congregaciones que yo conocía no participaban. Sin embargo, me preguntaba si estaría solo en sus opiniones y, por lo tanto, representaría una especie de punto muerto. Para mi sorpresa, una lectura posterior reveló que Nichol no estaba solo. De hecho, durante los últimos cincuenta años, las iglesias de Cristo habían debatido el alcance de la participación de las mujeres en la asamblea pública, las clases de Biblia y la enseñanza en sus propios hogares. También debatían si las mujeres podían votar, ejercer carreras públicas o pronunciar discursos públicos en entornos sociales.

Algunos, como David Lipscomb, pensaban que las mujeres no debían participar en ninguna actividad pública (ni en la iglesia ni en la sociedad), pero que podían impartir clases bíblicas que incluyeran a hombres en el centro de reuniones o en sus hogares. Otros, como Daniel Sommer, pensaban que las mujeres no debían predicar en la asamblea pública, pero que tenían el privilegio de dirigir los cantos, las oraciones y exhortar a la asamblea. Otros, en lo que se convirtió en la práctica fundamental de la mayoría de las iglesias de Cristo, pensaban que las mujeres no debían enseñar a grupos que incluyeran hombres en la asamblea, en clases bíblicas ni en sus propios hogares, ni dirigir a ningún hombre en la oración, ni excluir a las mujeres de cualquier participación audible o liderazgo visible en la asamblea.

Aparentemente, el libro de Nichol intentó, en parte, preservar las voces femeninas dentro de las asambleas de las iglesias de Cristo. Sin embargo, para la década de 1940, las mujeres fueron silenciadas. F. W. Smith, el respetado ministro de la congregación de la 4ta Avenida en Franklin, Tennessee y un estimado escritor del Gospel Advocate, ilustra el tipo de decisión que se tomó (Gospel Advocate, 1929, 778-9; el énfasis es suyo).

Nunca me ha quedado tan claro como desearía hasta qué punto una mujer cristiana tiene derecho a participar en el culto público, y por eso me siento incapaz de abordar la cuestión… Concluyo, por tanto, no dogmáticamente, sino para mayor seguridad, que, dado que la palabra de Dios no nos informa clara y explícitamente que sería bíblico que una mujer dirigiera la oración en la asamblea de los santos, sería mejor atenernos a la costumbre de las iglesias «leales» al respecto.

La justificación es importante: segura y leal, pero no dogmática. “Segura” porque no veía ninguna autorización específica y explícita. “Leal” porque las asambleas del norte, en las que las mujeres a menudo oraban y exhortaban, se encaminaban hacia la apostasía como una denominación separada llamada Iglesia Cristiana (aunque algunas congregaciones conservadoras de las iglesias de Cristo, como las asociadas con Sommer, acogían con agrado algunas formas de liderazgo femenino en la asamblea). Pero no podía ser dogmático sobre esta cuestión en particular. Sin embargo, lo que en 1929 era principalmente una cuestión de seguridad y lealtad se convirtió, para las décadas de 1940 y 1950, en un indicador dogmático de una iglesia fiel del Nuevo Testamento. La exclusión total de las mujeres del liderazgo en la asamblea pública, así como de la enseñanza y la oración en las clases bíblicas, se convirtió en la práctica dominante de las iglesias de Cristo, y todavía lo es.

El comentario de Smith es inquietante. Lo que yo consideraba tan evidente y lo que las iglesias de Cristo habían practicado consistentemente en mi experiencia no era tan claro, uniforme ni absoluto entre 1888 y 1938. De hecho, al comienzo de estos años de intenso debate, David Lipscomb escribió (Gospel Advocate, 7 de marzo de 1888, pág. 7): «Es difícil determinar con exactitud el límite de la ley que prohíbe a las mujeres enseñar o usurpar la autoridad públicamente». Si mis antepasados ​​espirituales reconocían la dificultad y sus prácticas eran diversas, comencé a preguntarme si mi propia certeza se basaba más en la tradición (reciente) que en las Escrituras. Quizás el significado de «Adán fue formado primero, luego Eva» no era tan claro como creía.

Aceptando la participación limitada

En 1989, a petición de la revista Image, escribí un artículo titulado “La adoración en 1 Corintios 14:26-40: El mandato del silencio”. Reafirmé la opinión que había mantenido al menos desde 1977. Pablo prohibía, argumenté, que las mujeres tuvieran voz y voto en la asamblea pública. No debían ejercer sus dones de lenguas ni de profecía. Sin embargo, aunque escribí sobre mis creencias, no expresé mis dudas.

Cuando, en 1990, me invitaron a dar una conferencia sobre este tema y a escribir un capítulo para el libro, decidí revisar a fondo mi comprensión de la asamblea de Corinto y los mandatos de Pablo. Decidí reexaminar mi pensamiento, actualizar mi investigación y ver adónde me llevaba la evidencia.

Esta reevaluación me brindó nuevas perspectivas. Me quedó más claro que la restricción del habla que Pablo imponía era significativamente limitada. No era una prescripción para el silencio total. Incluso si la restringimos al discurso autoritario, esto no excluía las voces de las mujeres en otros discursos (incluyendo cantos, confesiones, testimonios, peticiones de oración, anuncios, etc.). Además, llegué a creer que el interés de Pablo no era si una forma particular de hablar tenía autoridad o no, sino si era disruptiva. Dios no es el Dios de la confusión. Todo debe hacerse para la edificación, así como con decencia y orden. En consecuencia, así como Pablo silenció a los que hablaban en lenguas y a los profetas de maneras específicas para mantener el orden, también silenció a las mujeres desordenadas. No se trataba de autoridad ni liderazgo, sino de sumisión al orden en la asamblea.

También me convencí de que, independientemente de lo que significara «el hombre es la cabeza de la mujer», no excluía a las mujeres de ejercer sus dones en Corinto, en particular la oración y la profecía. El liderazgo no silenció a las mujeres en Corinto. Las mujeres disfrutaban del privilegio de profetizar tanto como los hombres, siempre que ambos lo hicieran de forma culturalmente apropiada (por ejemplo, el uso de velos en Corinto, fuera lo que fuese y su significado, lo cual es objeto de controversia). De hecho, esta era la práctica de todas las asambleas de Dios. 

Esto me pareció mucho más lógico cuando volví al capítulo catorce y noté los verbos y sustantivos en plural que lo saturan. La enseñanza de Pablo se dirigía tanto a mujeres como a hombres. «Seguid el amor y esforzaos por alcanzar los dones espirituales, y sobre todo que profeticéis» se dirige a toda la iglesia. Pablo esperaba que «todos» los corintios hablaran en lenguas, pero «aún más» que profetizaran. Cuando Pablo se dirigió a los corintios como «hermanos», se dirigía a toda la iglesia, incluidas las mujeres.

No se hace distinción entre hombres y mujeres cuando escribió: «Cuando se reúnen, cada uno tiene un himno, una lección, una revelación, una lengua o una interpretación». Todos aportaban su don a la asamblea, y Pablo quería que usaran estos dones para la edificación de la asamblea, incluyendo la profecía (revelación) y la enseñanza (lección). Además, en cuanto a la profecía, Pablo reguló el desorden para que «todos puedan profetizar uno por uno, para que todos aprendan y todos sean exhortados».

En el capítulo once, las mujeres profetizan; las mujeres tienen el don de profecía, y «todos pueden profetizar». Pablo incluyó a las mujeres cuando dijo «todos pueden profetizar». Tanto hombres como mujeres están incluidos desde el imperativo inicial de «busquen el amor» hasta el imperativo final de «estén ansiosos de profetizar y no prohíban el hablar en lenguas». Pablo esperaba que las personas, tanto hombres como mujeres, usaran sus dones siempre que lo hicieran de manera ordenada.

Las mujeres, incluidas en el “cada una”, se encuentran entre quienes aportan sus dones a la asamblea, que incluían salmos (himnos), enseñanzas y revelaciones. Las mujeres enseñaban en la asamblea, cantaban en la asamblea y proclamaban la palabra de Dios mediante su profecía. Nunca he estado convencido de que profetizar tenga menos autoridad que lo que hoy llamamos predicación (o maestros con autoridad en la iglesia). Cuando Pablo enumeró los dones, fue explícito: “primero apóstoles, segundo profetas y tercero maestros”. Los profetas pronunciaban palabras de exhortación, edificación y ánimo, mediante las cuales la asamblea aprendía acerca de Dios y recibía convicción por su palabra. Si la enseñanza con autoridad es la guía, la palabra del Señor a través de los profetas tiene tanta autoridad, si no más, que la de los predicadores, maestros y ancianos (independientemente de cómo distingamos estas categorías).

Profecía e inclusión

A medida que esta idea se arraigaba en mi entendimiento, comencé a observar con mayor atención un hilo conductor en las Escrituras que normalmente había malinterpretado, ignorado o descartado. Es decir, siempre ha habido profetisas significativas y eficaces que ejercieron autoridad sobre los hombres en Israel.

Después de Abraham y Aarón, Miriam es la siguiente profetisa nombrada en la Biblia. Ella, junto con Moisés y Aarón, fue enviada a guiar a Israel en el desierto y tuvo visiones del Señor al igual que Aarón. También dirigió a hombres y mujeres en la adoración mientras la congregación alababa a Dios por su liberación de la esclavitud.

La quinta profetisa nombrada, después de Moisés, es Débora. Fue la única persona, durante el período de los Jueces, que fue llamada jueza y profetisa, excepto Samuel. Débora ejerció autoridad, al igual que Samuel, sobre Israel juzgando casos, declarando la palabra del Señor y guiando a Israel. Ella llamó a Barac y le ordenó obedecer a Dios. Barac entró en la lista de honor de la fe porque obedeció a Débora.

La profetisa Hulda comunicó la palabra del Señor al rey de Judá por medio del sumo sacerdote de Dios. Además, confirmó la veracidad del texto que le preguntaron. En efecto, Hulda confirmó que un libro descubierto en las ruinas del templo era, de hecho, Escritura. Oficialmente, con su autoridad como profetisa del templo, autorizó el uso de este libro como Escritura para Josías y su sumo sacerdote.

Ester autorizó una nueva fiesta para Israel que no estaba incluida en el pacto mosaico. Mandó a Israel celebrar la fiesta. Ejerció no solo autoridad política, sino también autoridad religiosa. La reina Ester le dio a Israel la autoridad para celebrar una fiesta que se sumaba a la ley mosaica.

La profetisa Ana se dedicó al ayuno y la oración en el templo durante décadas. Cuando reconoció al Mesías, comenzó a alabar a Dios y a hablar del niño a todos los que buscaban la redención. Como profetisa, enseñó públicamente a hombres y mujeres en los atrios del templo sobre la gracia redentora de Dios, tal como el propio Jesús enseñaría públicamente más tarde en esos mismos atrios.

Estas mujeres proclamaron la palabra del Señor, guiaron al pueblo de Dios y autorizaron obras y leyes que Israel obedeció. Nada de esto violó el propósito de Dios en la creación. Dios no dota a las mujeres ni aprueba el uso de sus dones de maneras que intrínsecamente violen su propio propósito en la creación.

Pero, ¿acaso la frase «Adán fue formado primero, luego Eva» no excluía a las mujeres de las posiciones de autoridad en el pueblo de Dios? No. Ese razonamiento siempre me pareció una base sólida, ya que pensaba que así era como Pablo usaba el relato de la creación. Sin embargo, el uso que Pablo hace de la creación no excluía a las mujeres de profetizar. Las profetisas que proclamaron la palabra del Señor al pueblo de Dios, reprendieron el pecado en medio del pueblo de Dios y exigieron su obediencia no violaron el diseño de Dios en la creación. Estas mujeres ejercieron autoridad sobre los hombres en diversos contextos y de diversas maneras. Ninguna de sus acciones violó el propósito de Dios en la creación. Quizás Pablo quiso decir algo diferente de lo que siempre había asumido.

Creación, hombres y mujeres

Cuando volví a Génesis 1-3 para reflexionar sobre su significado para la relación entre hombres y mujeres, se hizo evidente que la única autoridad identificada antes del pecado de la humanidad era el dominio que compartían. Compartían una identidad común como personas creadas a imagen de Dios como representantes de Dios en la tierra. Compartían una vocación común: llenar la tierra con la gloria de Dios, dominar el caos y dominar la creación. Compartían una comisión real como hombre y mujer. Ambos fueron llamados y bendecidos para participar en la misión de Dios. La humanidad se diferenció como hombre y mujer, pero se formó como una sola a través de su identidad humana, vocación e intimidad compartidas. Hombres y mujeres se complementan al estar hombro con hombro. Son diferentes pero iguales, diversos pero unidos. Ya sea en comunidad o en el matrimonio, hombres y mujeres son compañeros y aliados en la misión de Dios. 

Mientras que Génesis 1 describe el sexto día de la creación como un evento singular: hombre y mujer creados a imagen de Dios, Génesis 2 lo describe como una sucesión de eventos. Dios creó la tierra, formó al hombre de la tierra, lo colocó en el jardín del Edén, creó la flora y la fauna, formó a la mujer del costado del hombre, los presentó y los unió en una sola carne. Esta sucesión de eventos no se trata de quién tiene la responsabilidad principal ni quién está a cargo. De lo contrario, implicaría una supremacía del hombre sobre la mujer en todos los aspectos de la vida creada, no solo en el hogar y la iglesia, sino también en la sociedad. Si «Adán fue formado primero, luego Eva» significa que Adán tiene autoridad y supremacía, entonces esto sería cierto no solo en el hogar y la iglesia, sino también en la sociedad.

Más bien, la sucesión de eventos trata sobre la belleza de la unidad que Dios realizó en el jardín. La narrativa culminó con el hombre y la mujer como una sola carne. Alcanzó su punto culminante en el encuentro entre el hombre y la mujer. Son de la misma carne y huesos; están hechos el uno para el otro. Son una sola carne, que es mucho más que la unión sexual. Es la unidad, la reciprocidad y la intimidad de su vida juntos como hombre y mujer, ya sea en matrimonio o en comunidad, al asumir su vocación compartida con una identidad compartida.

Sin embargo, esa belleza y armonía se disolvieron cuando comieron del fruto prohibido. Dios se dirigió a cada uno como agentes morales responsables de sus propias acciones y no los responsabilizó por las acciones del otro. El hombre, sin embargo, culpó a la mujer, y la mujer culpó a la serpiente. Como resultado, el orden que impregnaba el jardín se convirtió en un caos. 

Si bien la armonía existía en el Edén, ahora surgía hostilidad entre la serpiente y la mujer. Si bien la maternidad estaba originalmente libre de ansiedad, ahora la mujer daba a luz con gran temor. Si bien la pareja original conoció la armonía en su unidad, ahora experimentaba conflicto. Mientras en el jardín disfrutaban de una abundante provisión, ahora luchaban ansiosamente con la tierra para producir alimento. Mientras en el Edén, el hombre y la mujer se nutrían del árbol de la vida, ahora experimentaban la muerte.

Las acciones tienen consecuencias. Cuando una vida correctamente ordenada se desordena, sobreviene el caos y la destrucción. La armonía, la autoridad mutua y la entrega que Dios pretendía para los hombres y las mujeres en su buena creación se ven ahora perturbadas por la ansiedad y el conflicto. Esto trajo conflicto entre la humanidad y la creación, y entre los hombres y las mujeres. Debido a la introducción del caos moral, la muerte esclavizó a la pareja. Debido al caos moral, las mujeres desearían a sus maridos, y estos las gobernarían. El dominio, en forma de abuso, opresión y esclavitud, comenzó con la introducción del caos moral, ya que la humanidad vivía ahora al este del Edén. 

La dominación abusiva de los hombres sobre las mujeres emergió rápidamente. Lamec se casó con dos esposas. Los “hijos de Dios” se casaron con las “hijas de los hombres”, lo que resultó en que la creación se llenara de violencia. Dina, hija de Jacob, fue violada. Se sacrificaron concubinas para proteger a los hombres. David se casó violentamente con Betsabé. Tamar, violada por su medio hermano, vivió el resto de su vida en dolor y soledad. En las culturas del antiguo Cercano Oriente, las mujeres eran tratadas como propiedad, limitadas en sus actividades y derechos, y consideradas inestables y débiles. Los hombres gobernaban, maltrataban y oprimían a las mujeres, lo cual formaba parte de lo que llegó a significar vivir al este del Edén.

Sin embargo, este dominio masculino abusivo no extinguió el valor de las mujeres en Israel ni impidió que Dios las reclutara como líderes. Al llamar a mujeres líderes, Dios recordó a Israel que la vocación humana es compartida y que las mujeres también llevan la imagen de Dios, ya que ellas también lo representan en el mundo, no solo en su esencia, sino a través de sus dones y liderazgo.

Pentecostés y renovación de la creación

Reconocer que la creación no implicó la autoridad masculina sobre las mujeres, sino que el gobierno masculino distorsionaba la intención de Dios, abrió una ventana para comprender mejor lo que sucedió en Pentecostés. Allí, Dios renovó el propósito de la creación de una vida compartida en mutua sumisión para cumplir la misión divina. Dios recreó una comunidad donde hombres y mujeres comparten el dominio y asumen el mandato de llenar la tierra con la gloria de Dios y someter a los poderes oscuros que gobiernan el presente. Más que una recreación, Dios derramó la realidad futura de la nueva creación (cielos nuevos y tierra nueva) cuando el reino de Dios irrumpió en el mundo mediante el derramamiento del Espíritu.

Esta renovación fue anunciada por el profeta Joel, a quien Pedro citó el día de Pentecostés. Hombres y mujeres, esclavos y libres, judíos y gentiles, profetizarán y soñarán. Esto fue revolucionario. Fue el comienzo de algo nuevo; fue la expresión de una nueva creación. No se trataba solo de cómo estos grupos son igualmente llamados a una relación salvadora con Dios, sino de cómo han sido igualmente dotados por Dios para participar en su misión, demostrar su presencia en esta nueva comunidad y representar a Dios en el mundo como imágenes de Cristo. «Ya no hay judío ni griego, ya no hay esclavo ni libre, ya no hay varón ni mujer» en Jesús el Mesías, porque todos somos herederos de la promesa a Abraham, que incluye la presencia, el fruto y los dones del Espíritu Santo.

Aunque Jesús eligió solo a varones como sus Doce, también eligió solo a varones judíos libres. Pero después de Pentecostés, ya no solo los hombres judíos libres recibieron dones de Dios. Dios dotó a la iglesia con apóstoles además de los Doce. Por ejemplo, Pablo, Bernabé, Santiago, Andrónico y Junias son llamados apóstoles. Si bien Moisés también eligió solo sacerdotes varones, eligió solo a varones libres del linaje de Aarón. Pero después de Pentecostés, ya no solo los hombres libres aarónicos eran sacerdotes en el nuevo orden de Melquisedec, donde Jesús es el Sumo Sacerdote. Los gentiles, los esclavos y las mujeres en la nueva creación también son sacerdotes.

Cuando Jesús ascendió a la diestra de Dios, Dios derramó el Espíritu a través de Jesús y dio dones al pueblo de Dios. El Mesías dio a “unos apóstoles, a otros profetas, a otros evangelistas, a otros pastores y maestros”. Siempre que Pablo enumeraba los dones del Espíritu, nunca sugirió que algunos fueran para las mujeres, otros para los hombres y otros para ambos, como tampoco dijo que algunos fueran para los judíos y otros para los gentiles, o algunos para los esclavos y otros para las personas libres. Más bien, Dios distribuye los dones según la gracia, no según la economía, la etnia o el género.

De hecho, dentro del ministerio de la iglesia en el Nuevo Testamento, vemos una apóstol, mujeres profetizando, mujeres evangelistas (difundiendo y proclamando las buenas nuevas) y mujeres maestras. En otra lista de dones, cada don fue ejercido por mujeres en el Nuevo Testamento. Las mujeres profetizaron, ministraron, enseñaron, exhortaron, dieron, lideraron y practicaron la misericordia.

Las mujeres servían como diáconos. Colaboraban con Pablo (el mismo lenguaje describe a sus homólogos masculinos). Eran sus colaboradoras. Estas mujeres eran líderes, y Pablo instruyó a las iglesias domésticas de Corinto a someterse a todo colaborador y obrero en el Señor. Dada la presencia de profetisas en Corinto y que el veinte por ciento de las personas que Pablo nombró en sus cartas como colaboradores y obreros eran mujeres, las iglesias domésticas de Corinto, así como las congregaciones de otras localidades, se sometieron tanto a mujeres como a hombres conocidos como colaboradores y obreros en el ministerio.

Lo que Pablo deseaba para los discípulos de Jesús era la sumisión mutua: vivir juntos en la unidad mutua. Así como Jesús se humilló para servir a los demás haciéndose como nosotros, también nosotros debemos servirnos unos a otros. Así como Jesús llamó a sus discípulos a rechazar el estatus, la autoridad y el poder que caracterizaban a los gobernantes y autoridades gentiles, también nosotros rechazamos el autoritarismo y el estatus para someternos unos a otros en amor mutuo. Nos acogemos, nos instruimos, nos amamos, nos animamos y vivimos en armonía. De hecho, nos servimos y nos sometemos unos a otros.

Pero “primero fue formado Adán, luego Eva”.

A pesar de toda esta evidencia en el texto bíblico, había un texto que me impedía aceptar la plena participación de las mujeres en la asamblea como la voluntad de Dios. (Sin embargo, a veces me preguntaba si había malinterpretado gravemente este texto, ya que la historia de Dios empodera tan fuertemente a las mujeres de maneras tan diversas).

Al intentar comprender lo que Pablo decía, surgieron dos preguntas cruciales.

¿Qué prohibió Pablo exactamente y por qué?

Mi interés en la aplicación de este texto creció cuando mi hija de ocho años participó en un evento cristiano donde preadolescentes y adolescentes dieron discursos, dirigieron cantos, participaron en concursos bíblicos y actuaron en espectáculos de títeres. Mi hija compitió en la categoría de oratoria. Cuando llegó su turno, fui a la sala designada. Me prohibieron la entrada. A los hombres, incluidos los padres, no se les permitía escuchar a las preadolescentes hablar de Dios. Cuando pregunté por el motivo, los organizadores citaron a Pablo. No se le permitía hablar delante de mí porque no podía enseñar a los hombres. Si me enseñaba, ejercería autoridad sobre mí. Había algo terriblemente mal, pensé en ese momento, en cualquier lectura que generara esa aplicación, así como había algo erróneo cuando el texto se usaba para prohibir que las niñas oraran en voz alta en cadenas de oración, que las esposas guiaran a sus esposos en la oración o que las niñas guiaran a sus padres en la oración. Todo esto lo había escuchado, e incluso defendido, en mis años de servicio en las iglesias de Cristo.

Estas aplicaciones tan amplias y restrictivas de la frase de Pablo han formado parte de la historia cristiana y de las iglesias de Cristo. Se ha utilizado para prohibir a las mujeres votar en elecciones gubernamentales, pronunciar discursos en espacios públicos y seguir carreras en medicina, derecho y política. También se ha utilizado para prohibir a las mujeres adultas enseñar a niños bautizados de diez años en la escuela dominical, servir la comunión de pie ante la congregación, dirigir oraciones en grupos pequeños o clases bíblicas, impartir clases bíblicas con hombres presentes y bautizar a cualquier persona, incluso a otra mujer. Este versículo se ha utilizado para prohibir a las mujeres ejercer autoridad en la sociedad, el hogar y la iglesia, y desempeñar cualquier rol de liderazgo donde los hombres se sometan a ellas. En otras palabras, este versículo ha excluido a las mujeres de una amplia gama de actividades, basándose en el discernimiento de líderes masculinos empoderados.

Se argumentaba que los hombres tenían el poder porque Adán fue formado primero, luego Eva, y Eva fue engañada y se convirtió en transgresora. Históricamente, este razonamiento no solo se basaba en que el hombre fue creado primero, sino también en que las mujeres eran más fáciles de engañar, demasiado emotivas e incapaces de servir públicamente tanto en la sociedad como en la iglesia. En otras palabras, había algo en las mujeres —incluso en la naturaleza con la que fueron creadas, algo en su esencia— que las hacía incapaces de ejercer el liderazgo público en el hogar, la iglesia y la sociedad. Eva fue engañada, pero Adán no.

Pero ¿le preocupaban a Pablo estas amplias cuestiones del liderazgo masculino en todos los aspectos del hogar, la iglesia y la sociedad, o se centraba en algo mucho más específico? ¿Qué pretendía prohibir exactamente?

La primera carta de Pablo a Timoteo

La primera carta de Pablo a Timoteo comienza y termina con palabras contundentes sobre las falsas enseñanzas que promovían mitos e impiedad. Timoteo debía “pelearse la buena batalla” contra estas falsas enseñanzas. Por lo tanto, Pablo animó a la oración y reafirmó la historia fundamental de la salvación en Jesús el Mesías. Debido a esta preocupación por las falsas enseñanzas (“por tanto”), Pablo también abordó el problema de las disputas airadas entre hombres y el comportamiento de algunas mujeres que promovían la impiedad en lugar de las buenas obras.

Algunas mujeres, incluyendo aquellas que vestían con inmodestia, iban de casa en casa diciendo disparates, promoviendo mitos y diciendo lo que no debían. Seguían el camino de los falsos maestros, cayendo en las garras de Satanás. Sus enseñanzas y autopromociones eran disruptivas y peligrosas. Su estilo de vestir promovía su impiedad y su asociación con falsos maestros, y buscaban persuadir a los hombres para que las siguieran. Se dirigían a los hombres debido a su afán de riqueza y poder. Pablo quería poner fin a este tipo de actividad. «No permito…», escribió Pablo. No quería que estas mujeres se impusieran y dominaran a los hombres al reclutarlos para su proyecto. La prohibición pretendía detener esta actividad. No pretendía prohibir a todas las mujeres, en todo momento y lugar, enseñar a los hombres en cualquier momento.

Sin embargo, detener a estas mujeres no era el objetivo final. Pablo también quería que aprendieran. Timoteo debía enseñar a las mujeres siempre que estuvieran dispuestas a aprender con total sumisión a la enseñanza de Dios (la sana doctrina) y con un comportamiento sereno y humilde. Pablo quería que estas mujeres aprendieran con un espíritu sumiso, sin ser disruptivas ni bulliciosas. Una vez que aprendieran, podrían convertirse en maestras de la comunidad. Este era, de hecho, el plan de Pablo para Timoteo: enseñar a las personas (tanto hombres como mujeres) para que pudieran enseñar a otros.

Pero Pablo dijo: “Primero fue formado Adán, luego Eva”.

¿Cómo justifica la prohibición de Pablo la idea de que Adán fue formado primero, luego Eva?

Esa es una pregunta importante. Durante mucho tiempo, simplemente asumí que el hecho cronológico implicaba el principio de primogenitura (primogénito). En otras palabras, dado que Adán fue creado primero, el primer hombre tenía autoridad sobre la primera mujer. Sin embargo, esto no se afirma explícitamente. Solo el hecho cronológico es explícito. Si se refiere a la primogenitura, también implicaría una mayor herencia para el hombre que para la mujer, como ocurrió con los primogénitos en Israel. Los primogénitos recibieron una doble herencia. ¿Heredarán los hombres más que las mujeres en la nueva creación? En otro pasaje, Pablo dijo que todos somos herederos y que ya no hay varón ni mujer en la nueva creación, especialmente en lo que respecta a la herencia.

Además, en Génesis, la primogenitura es subvertida y anulada. No implica supremacía ni autoridad. Isaac fue elegido sobre Ismael, Jacob sobre Esaú, Judá sobre Rubén y Efraín sobre Manasés. En estos casos, el segundo hijo (creado) recibió la primacía que existía. Además, si la primogenitura es la base de la instrucción de Pablo, entonces debería aplicarse no solo a la iglesia, sino también a la sociedad, porque las normas de la creación, se argumenta, se aplican a todas las relaciones humanas.

El principio de primogenitura es una inferencia y una suposición innecesarias. De hecho, contradice el texto explícito del propio Génesis. Hombres y mujeres comparten la autoridad sobre la creación, y los hombres solo gobiernan a las mujeres después del pecado de la pareja.

Hay otra razón por la que Pablo pudo haber empleado esta cronología. Pablo relató la historia del Génesis de forma abreviada para establecer una analogía específica. El hecho cronológico inicia la narración de la creación («formada»), continúa con la caída («transgredida») y culmina en la redención («salvada»). Dios formó a Adán, luego a Eva, y luego Eva transgredió, pero Dios la salvará (a Eva) mediante la maternidad (a Cristo) si ellas (las mujeres problemáticas de Éfeso) perseveran en la fe con modestia.

Pablo apeló a la narrativa donde Adán, creado inicialmente, recibió la primera instrucción y, por lo tanto, conocía el mandato de Dios desde el principio. Eva, sin embargo, fue engañada. Fue engañada por la serpiente y Eva la siguió, al igual que algunas mujeres fueron atrapadas por Satanás y siguieron a otras en falsas enseñanzas y prácticas impías. Aunque engañada, persuadió a Adán, quien pecó con los ojos bien abiertos. Ella lo dominó o lo dominó con su influencia. Adán escuchó la voz de su esposa y la siguió. Eva fue un ejemplo de las mujeres engañadas que indujeron a los hombres a la transgresión mediante sus falsas enseñanzas y tácticas agresivas.

En otras palabras, el razonamiento de Pablo no era: los hombres tienen supremacía o autoridad sobre las mujeres porque los hombres tienen derechos de primogenitura; por lo tanto, las mujeres no deben enseñar a los hombres. Más bien, era: algunas mujeres han sido engañadas por falsos maestros y están persuadiendo a los hombres a seguirlas como lo hizo Eva; por lo tanto, estas mujeres no deben enseñar, sino aprender.

Pablo no tenía objeción a que las mujeres enseñaran a los hombres. Las mujeres poseen el don de la enseñanza tanto como los hombres. Se invita a las mujeres a compartir su don de enseñanza en la asamblea. A las mujeres se les dice que enseñen, las mujeres enseñan y las mujeres profetas enseñan. Pablo no delimitó el don de la enseñanza, sino que excluyó a quienes enseñaban falsamente y extraviaban a la iglesia. Algunas mujeres en Éfeso promovían la impiedad y algunos hombres ya habían sido excluidos de la iglesia de Éfeso.

Pablo está controlando los daños y señalando a Timoteo una solución: deja que estas mujeres aprendan, pero hasta que lo hagan, no se les permite enseñar.

Conclusión

¿Qué es realmente “seguro” y “leal”? Quizás sea más seguro prestar atención al don que Dios dio a las mujeres por el Espíritu y afirmar nuestra lealtad al testimonio de las Escrituras sobre los dones de las mujeres. Quizás sea más seguro escuchar la historia completa de las mujeres en la Biblia, y la prueba de nuestra lealtad radica en si estamos dispuestos a escuchar lo que dice toda la Escritura.

Pablo quería que las mujeres aprendieran para poder enseñar. En esto, Pablo siguió la práctica de Jesús, quien animó a María a sentarse a sus pies como discípula-aprendiz. Así como Pablo se sentó a los pies de Gamaliel como discípulo para aprender a seguir a su maestro y convertirse él mismo en maestro, María se sentó a los pies de Jesús. Las mujeres también son discípulas de Jesús. No son discípulas de un modo secundario.

Cuando Jesús les dijo a sus discípulos que esperaran en Jerusalén la venida del Espíritu, había mujeres presentes. Cuando Jesús comisionó a sus discípulos, también las mujeres lo recibieron. Cuando el Espíritu se derramó sobre la iglesia, las mujeres también lo recibieron. Cuando Jesús dio dones a la iglesia, también los dio a las mujeres.

Tanto hombres como mujeres tienen la comisión de «hacer discípulos de todas las naciones, bautizándolos en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo, y enseñándoles a obedecer todo lo que yo les he mandado».

Tanto hombres como mujeres tienen la misión de hacer discípulos, bautizar y enseñar. Ya sea en la asamblea o fuera de ella, en el hogar o en público, Dios acoge a las mujeres en el cuerpo de Cristo, las dota para que participen en él y las llama a hacer discípulos, bautizar y enseñar a otros.

Textos bíblicos: Génesis 1:26-28, 2:15-25; 3:6, 8-19; 4:18, 23-24; 6:1-4, 11-13; 20:7; 21:14; 27:17-30; 34:1-5; 48:14; 49:8-10; Éxodo 7:1; 15:20-21; Deuteronomio 18:15; Jueces 4:4-10; 19:24-29; 2 Samuel 3:20-4:1; 11:1-27; 13:7-19; 2 Crónicas 24:19-28; Ester 9:29-32; Salmo 68:11; Miqueas 6:4; Joel 2:28; Mateo 26:55; 28:18-20; Marcos 10:42-45; Lucas 2:36-38; 10:38-42; 19:47; 21:37; 22:24-30; Hechos 1:12-15; 2:16-17; 8:3-4; 9:36; 14:14; 18:26; 21:9; 22:3; Romanos 12:3-8, 10, 16; 13:8; 14:13, 19; 15:7, 14; 16:1-3, 6-7, 12, 24; 1 Corintios 3:9; 7:4; 11:3-16; 12:28; 14:1, 3, 5, 24-40; 16:16; 2 Corintios 11:3-4; Gálatas 1:4, 19; 3:14, 28-29; 4:1-7; 6:14-16; Efesios 4:7-11; 5:21; Filipenses 2:6-11, 25; 4:2; Colosenses 4:10; Filemón 24; 1 Tesalonicenses 3:2, 5; 5:12; 1 Timoteo 1:3-4, 18-20; 2:1, 4-6, 8-15; 4:6-7; 5:11-15; 6:2-6, 11-12; 2 Timoteo 2:2, 16; 3:6; Tito 2:3; Hebreos 11:32.

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I graduated from Freed-Hardeman University in 1977, and I remember well the discussions of “Crossroads” and the beginnings of a discipling ministry that grew into the Boston Movement and then the International Churches of Christ. I began full time teaching in higher education among Churches of Christ in 1982 and am now in my thirty-ninth year, including the last twenty years at Lipscomb University. The history of the International Churches of Christ and my own vocation have spanned the same years. Yet, our paths have only occasionally crossed, though I have known some from our years together at Freed-Hardeman, others because they were students in classes or encounters at various events, and several through social media friendships.

My knowledge of the ministry of the International Churches of Christ is sporadic rather than systematic, though I have read Stanback’s Into All Nations: A History of the International Churches of Christ as well as reading several books by leaders within the movement. Consequently, I hope you will forgive any errors that arise out of my ignorance or lack of understanding.  But my task is not to reflect on your theological interests and development but upon my own.

Studying and teaching the Bible, historical theology, and systematic theology in both the church and the University for almost forty years, I have traveled my own theological journey with significant twists and turns. Through personal tragedies and theological controversies, I navigated a faith journey that I did not expect or desire when I graduated from Freed-Hardeman. I am grateful for this opportunity to process this with you in this forum.

The most basic definition of theology is “faith seeking understanding.” Believers begin with a basic first-order sense of allegiance to Jesus whom the Father sent in the flesh through the power of the Spirit for our sake. This personal, core commitment is faith, allegiance, or trust in what God has done for us through Jesus in the Spirit. When this faith seeks deeper understanding or yearns to fully perform the drama of God’s redemptive story, believers pursue a deeper theological interest to grasp the breath, depth, and height of God’s love. As I reflected on my own personal theological journey in the context of Churches of Christ, I have identified five areas where development in my understanding has impacted my theological commitments. These areas are:  (1) Doxology; (2) Hermeneutics; (3) Pneumatic Unity; (4) Sacraments; and (5) Discipleship.

For the purposes of this paper and conference, I will not seek to defend my development as much as explain it and identify what promise it has for our future performance of the biblical drama and future communion among Christ-followers.

Doxology

By “doxology” I mean the praise or worship of the transcendent God whose thoughts and ways are beyond my understanding. This contains two major concerns. First, it affirms the transcendence of God which means that our thoughts about God always fall short of the fullness of God. This entails a significant dose of epistemological humility as we recognize that we not God and God is God.  Second, it means our theological statements about God are fundamentally doxological, that is, they are statements of praise that do not fully comprehend God though they communicate the reality of God to sufficiently perform the drama. We approach God through the lenses of awe and wonder rather than primarily through the lenses of intellectual comprehension and philosophical coherence. Third, worship fuels mission. Filled with the wonder of God and basking in the grace of God’s good gifts, we embrace our mission as participants in the mission of God.

            For example, the Psalms, as we might expect, ooze the doxological commitments of their authors and illustrate a doxological approach to theology. For example, Psalm 62 arises out of the experience of a believer traumatized by assaults, whether physical, spiritual, or emotional (62:3-4). Despite this trauma, the Psalmist calls the people to trust God at all times and pour out their hearts because God is a refuge for believers (62:8). The ground or basis for this exhortation, despite the circumstances, are two affirmations about God in 62:11-12. The Psalmist confesses:

                        Once God has spoken;

                                    twice I have heard this:

                        that power belongs to God,

                                    and steadfast love belongs to you, O Lord.

Believers are empowered by a sense of God’s identity, which arises out of worship, especially through communal liturgy. This worship is a response to God’s story or God’s acts in history which not only ground the worship of Israel but evoke it. The Psalmist has heard the story. The assemblies of Israel rehearsed the story of God’s gracious work, for example, in the Exodus where God demonstrated divine power and steadfast love. It is not so much the rational evaluation of God’s work or a philosophical assessment of God’s deeds but the rehearsal of God’s history with Israel in liturgy or worship that yielded this confidence. Israel’s experience of God in the Exodus grounded their worship, and their worship fueled their participation in the mission of God.

The origins of Churches of Christ, and the beginnings of my own faith as part of that tradition, were fundamentally shaped by rationality. In particular, we embraced (1) an objective reading of the Bible, (2) rational discourse about God, and (3) the impulse to fit God’s work within the confines of a rational box. I subjected my Bible, and consequently my God, to critical intellectual analysis while all the while trusting in the truth of the object of my study, which trust has never wavered. I even completed a graduate degree in philosophy as well as one in theology to help with this pursuit.

I am certainly not opposed to philosophical inquiry, but it needs a heavy dose of humility. Reason cannot drive mission; it will burn out. Reason cannot exhaust God; it is too finite. Reason cannot explain all the mysteries of the faith; it does not have access. Actually, reason confesses the mystery. Of course, I have not rejected reason. I am reasoning with you in the present moment. But I have flipped the priority.

It seems that human rationality often presumes that it can describe or even prescribe the limits of what is possible for God. This rationalistic approach assumes a realist understanding of the attributes of God which believes those attributes can be truly known, processed, and delimited by human rationality. 

The doxological approach eschews philosophical abstraction and exalts liturgical contemplation. The church is, first and foremost, a worshipping community which images God’s character in our relationships.  Worship calls us to be like the one whom we worship, and we worship the revealed God rather than the God of speculation.  Rational understandings of God which constrain God are replaced with the praise of the God who is known through Scripture, experienced in life’s situations, and encountered in corporate worship.  Instead of rationalistic and metaphysical grids, we seek God in a worship encounter and praise his attributes rather than trying to plummet he depth of their logical relations.

            Consequently, our preaching and teaching about God should not be consumed with scholastic “problem-solving” but with praise, worship, and confession.  It is the encounter with the living God through Scripture, worship, and life that has a meaningful impact on Christian lives.  This means that the believer is worshipful, trusting, and confident through the trials and joys of life. 

I am much more comfortable with mystery now than I was previously. I don’t have to figure everything out. When it comes to some of the deep questions of our faith, such as the problem of evil, I am willing to plead ignorance and embrace a skeptical theism which essentially says my brain is too small to understand the work of God. I do not expect reason to satisfy all my questions. Worship, rather than the achievements of the human intellect, secures comfort and drives mission.

Hermeneutics

As faith seeks understanding, we do want to understand God. This search, however, is not through philosophical abstraction but through living within the narrative of the Biblical drama, the story of God. Our understanding of God is forged and shaped by our engagement with the history of God’s work in the biblical narrative from creation to new creation. Consequently, how we read the Bible is of supreme importance. How we read the Bible will determine what the Bible means for us, how we understand what God requires of us, how we “do church,” and how we pursue God’s mission in the present.

Hermeneutics is the process by which we discern what is required, forbidden, optional, or expedient. Sometimes we think it is as simple as reading the Bible and doing what it says. For example, if the Bible says “X,” then we do “X.” But, actually, everyone introduces a middle step into this process. We recognize this middle step because we do not practice everything the Bible teaches. We make distinctions so that we do not simply reproduce ancient culture in the present, and we make distinctions about what is essential and what is optional. We make contextual judgments about dispensations, cultural settings, meaning of words, contexts, and many other factors. Hermeneutics is the middle step between the text and our practice of the text. Everyone has a middle step.

Growing up in Churches of Christ, I practiced a hermeneutic that sought an implicit blueprint for the work and worship of the church in Acts and the Epistles. We sought this blueprint through a filter of distinctions between generic and specific commands, an understanding of how a specified command excludes its coordinates, how the lack of implicit or explicit authorization forbids practices, and how to distinguish between expediency and prohibition when Scripture is silent in addition to many other rules for how the Bible authorizes. Consequently, I shifted through the commands, examples, and inferences within the New Testament to deduce a blueprint. That blueprint became the standard of faithfulness and the mark of the true church.  And if everyone agreed upon and practiced the blueprint, we would be united! Finding and practicing the blueprint because the foundation of both my assurance (“was I in the right church?”) and unity among believers (if we agreed on the blueprint’s details).

The inadequacies of this approach as well as its subjectivity (every conclusion and most steps along the way were inferences) created doubts. As distinctions accumulated and inferences abounded, I began to realize the blueprint was more the product of human rationalization than it was explicit in God’s story. It did not appear on the surface of the text, and if it was in the text, its pieces were scattered across a wide field. As I read Scripture, this is not how the apostolic witness called people to gospel obedience. They did not read Scripture or write Scripture with a blueprint lens. Something different was going on.

The problem, it seems to me, is the location of the pattern. The pattern is not found in an implied blueprint in Acts and the Epistles. Paul does not call people to obedience based on a blueprint located in the practices of the church. Instead, he calls them to obedience based on the pattern manifested in the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and exaltation of Jesus. We conform to this pattern. We obey the gospel, which is the story of Jesus, rather than a blueprint we have inferred from the text but is not explicitly there.

Hermeneutics always involves inferences, whether one pursues a blueprint hermeneutic or a theological one. We cannot escape them; every application is an inference. But here is the significant point: the pattern is not an inference. On the contrary, it is the story in which we live. It is the narrative air we breathe. The pattern of God’s work through Christ in the power of the Spirit is clear, objective, and formative. It is the story told in Scripture; it is an explicit pattern.

We will find unity when we confess the same pattern, and the shame of divisions among Churches of Christ is that we already confess the same pattern.  Our pattern is God in Jesus through the Spirit, or our pattern is Jesus. Here we are united, and our hermeneutics (whether blueprint or theological) must not undermine that unity but discern ways to faithfully embody it. 

The Unity of the Spirit

Unity is the “unity of the Spirit” (Ephesians 4:3). It is created and empowered by the Spirit who is the creative power of God that breathes life into both the present age and the age to come. The Spirit is the one by whom we commune with each other and with God.

Briefly, I offer five modes of visible unity that give expression to the underlying unity of the Spirit among believers. These five practices not only exhibit the unity of the Spirit but are also means by which the Spirit dynamically works among believers for both unity. The Spirit acts through them to manifest the unity that the Spirit has already achieved. At the same time, these practices are also transformative as they move us not only into a deeper experience of that unity but also function to transform us as exhibits of that unity.

1. Confession. We confess Jesus is Lord by the Spirit (1 Corinthians 12:3). Paul provides the ground of this point: “No one is able to say “Jesus is Lord” except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:3). This is an orienting, centering confession. The confession arises out of the Spirit’s work, operates within the life of the Spirit, and lives in the community of faith because we have all drunk of the Spirit (1 Corinthians 12:13). This confession is, however, made in a context, that is,  the divine drama, which is summarized in numerous places in Scripture (e.g., Acts 10:34-43). It shapes the confession of the lordship of Jesus and locates believers in the flow of the history of God’s people. We confess the Father as creator, Jesus as the Son of God, and the Holy Spirit as the communion of believers. Theologically, we acknowledge that whoever confesses “Jesus is Lord” does so “in the Spirit.” We may embrace the unity of believers through this confession because it is the result of the Spirit’s enabling presence.

2. Transformation. We are sanctified by the Spirit (1 Thessalonians 4:3-8). We all know the saying of Jesus, “by their fruits you will know them” (Matthew 7:16). Sanctification is the work of the Holy Spirit who indwells, empowers, and gifts us for new life in Christ. Theologically, transformation is the goal of God’s agenda. Transformation is an effect of communion. God transforms us by the presence of the indwelling Spirit. The fruit of the Spirit is evidence of our union with God. The fruit of the Spirit is the life of the Spirit already present in us. We may embrace the unity of believers through this shared, Spirit-empowered sanctification.

3. Liturgy. We worship in the Spirit (John 4:24; Philippians 3:3). The foundation of liturgy is the work of the Spirit. Our liturgical acts—not necessarily our precise liturgical forms—are deeply rooted in the work of the Spirit. Assembly, as communal praise and worship, is mediated by the Spirit. We worship the Father through the Son in the Spirit. Assembly, as an eschatological, transforming, and sacramental encounter with God, happens in the Spirit; it is a pneumatic event. This is what gives significance and meaning to assembly, and it is also the root of the unity we experience through assembly as the whole church—throughout time and space—is gathered before the throne of the Father in the Spirit. To recognize that (1) the Spirit is the means by whom we commune with and experience God, (2) this means is not dependent upon perfectionistic obedience to specified forms, and (3) the Spirit is not limited by such forms. This enables us to affirm the presence of the Spirit among those communities who do not share the forms that we think are most biblical. In the Spirit we embrace the unity of fellow worshippers through our eschatological and sacramental encounter with God in assembly.

4. Practicing the Kingdom of God. We minister in the power of the Spirit (Luke 4:18-19). The Spirit anointed Jesus, led him into the wilderness, and empowered him for ministry in Luke 3-4. This is the ministry of the kingdom of God in which Jesus practices the kingdom by heralding the good news of the kingdom, exercising authority over the principalities and powers, and healing brokenness. Jesus is sent, and he sends disciples. This is the missional ministry into which disciples are called. This praxis is an expression of the life of the Spirit within the community, and the community of Jesus, empowered by the Spirit, continues the teaching and doing of Jesus, that is, they continue to practice the kingdom of God. When disciples practice the kingdom of God, the Spirit is present. Where the Spirit is present, Jesus is present. This is a missional ecumenism. In the Spirit, we embrace the unity of believers through shared ministry, that is, shared participation in the proclamation and practice of the good news of the kingdom of God, which is the mission of God.

5. Spiritual Formation Practices. We pray in the Spirit (Jude 20). Disciples, united in prayer, are united in the Spirit. The practice of prayer (as well as other disciplines) is rooted in the work of the Spirit. The Spirit is present to listen and speak in these moments. When a community practices them together, or each member of a community practices them in their own walk with God, the Spirit works to unite us through shared experiences and shared communion. In the Spirit, we may embrace the unity of believers through the shared experience and communion in prayer.

Through the practice of these gifts, the Spirit mediates a proleptic experience of our eschatological unity, a unity that is already but also, in some sense, not yet. Together, we confess Jesus is Lord; together, we seek transformation; together, we participate in the eschatological assembly; together, we practice the kingdom of God; and together, we pray in the Spirit. That is, at least in part, the unity of the Spirit.

Sacraments

Sacrament names the mystery of God’s action through the external means of water, wine, bread, and communal assemblies as we experience the story of God in specific moments. Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and assemblies are dramatic rehearsals of the story through which God renews communion and empowers transformation. By faith, the community participates in this story and rehearses that story together as the church shares the sacramental reality together through water initiation, bread/wine nourishment, and gathering in the power of the Spirit.

These gospel ordinances have ordinarily been construed something like this. Baptism is the means of grace for justification through participation in the death and resurrection of Jesus. The Lord’s Supper is the means of grace for sanctification through remembrance of the death of Jesus and communion with the living Christ. The Lord’s Day or the weekly assembly is the means of grace for communal worship through celebration of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. In this sense, they are not mere gospel ordinances that merely bear witness to the gospel, but they are also sacramental means through which believers experience the grace of the gospel in the Spirit. In other words, these gospel symbols mediate the presence of Christ to his community. They are more than signs; they are participatory symbols through which God acts.

They are not substitutes for discipleship or transformation but rather moments of encounter with God through which we are moved along the path of discipleship toward entire sanctification. This kind of sacramentalism is not popular. Evangelicals and the positivistic hermeneutic typical in Churches of Christ have something in common—they ultimately disconnect the sacraments from discipleship and empty all sacramental imagination from these ordinances. Baptism becomes either a mere sign or a test of loyalty. The Lord’s Supper becomes an anthropocentric form of individualistic piety. Assembly becomes either the ongoing public test of faithfulness (part of the definition of a “faithful Christian”) which degenerates into a legalism or fundamentally a horizontal occasion for mutual encouragement which is susceptible to pragmatic consumerist ideology.

These sacramental moments mark our journey with God and the church of God. Baptism is a means of grace through which we encounter the saving act of God in Christ through his death and resurrection. We participate in the gospel and are renewed by the Spirit through our burial and resurrection with Christ. The Lord’s Supper is a means by which we experience the presence of the living Christ and enjoy a renewal of future hope. Indeed, we experience that future anew every time we eat and drink at the Lord’s table. It is an authentic communion with God through Christ in the power of the Spirit. Assemblies, wherever and whenever a community of Jesus’ disciples gather to seek God’s face (e.g., to pray), are moments when we draw near to the Father and Jesus in their eschatological glory by the Spirit. These assemblies participate in the eschatological assembly as the Spirit ushers us into the heavenly Jerusalem where we share the future with all the saints gathered around the world and spread throughout time. Assembly, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are moments of communion, transformation, participation, and encounter.

This yields at least three significant points. First, the sacraments are authentic encounters with God. The sacraments are not bare or nude signs but means of divine action. They are divine gifts through which we may experience God as God comes to us in grace and mercy. God is not absent from the creation and only dwelling in the “spirituality” of our consciousness, but God is present through the creation as the Spirit existentially and communally unites us with Christ through water, through bread and wine, and through gathering.

Second, the sacraments serve our faith as moments of assurance which our feeble hearts can grasp through materiality. God’s promise is connected to the signs. Faith assures us that Jesus is ours as surely as are bodies are washed, our lips sip wine, and the people of God are gathered. The sacraments are means of assurance for disciples of Jesus.

Third, the sacraments are communal experiences of God. As God created community and redeems a community, so the divine presence comes to us in community as well. Baptism, Lord’s Supper, and assemblies are shared experiences through which God is present to bind us together. We were baptized into one body, we eat the one body of Christ together, and we are the body of Christ in assembly united with the church triumphant as well as militant.

Discipleship

One of my favorite quotes from James A. Harding, the co-founder of Lipscomb University and the namesake of Harding University, is a comment on the practice of protracted meetings. “I have observed,” he wrote, “that those speakers as a rule secure the greatest number of accessions who dwell most upon escaping hell and getting into heaven, and least upon the importance of leading lives of absolute consecration to the Lord; in other words their converts are much more anxious to be saved than they are to follow Christ.”[1]

Discipleship, an obedient following of Jesus, has always been a central value of Churches of Christ. Unfortunately, sometimes this was reduced to particular ecclesial forms or minimized in other ways or even, perhaps, located in a particular practice or outcome. Thus, while obedient discipleship remained important, it was often expressed in some authoritarian attitudes about church attendance, obedience to elders, and/or communal submission.

When “Crossroads” began highlighting discipleship as a primary way of envisioning the Christian life, this drew on the resources of the tradition as well as contemporary movements within Protestant Christianity. I remember how grateful I was for that emphasis, and I was thrilled by the potential of that renewal, though many of my contemporaries did not share my enthusiasm.

I have always thought that the separation of Churches of Christ and the Boston Movement was lamentable. Churches of Christ, rather than embracing and pursuing the value of discipleship and disciple-making, began to fear the language of discipleship and discipling, and we lost, in general, our commitment to following Jesus through making others fishers of people. Though the International Churches of Christ have experienced their own struggles with understanding and practicing discipleship and disciple-making, it is time for Churches of Christ to learn from our brothers and sisters in the International Churches of Christ. I am grateful that now there are strong movements within Churches of Christ for the renewal of discipleship and disciple-making, and I hope our two traditions might find some spaces like this to enrich each other, particularly regarding a theology of discipleship.

 “Follow me,” Jesus says. Discipleship means imitating Jesus by entering into his life. We follow Jesus into the water and are baptized. We follow Jesus into the wilderness and seek solitude with God. We follow Jesus into intimacy with others and seek out friends with whom we can reveal our true selves. We follow Jesus to the tables of both the righteous and the sinner. We follow Jesus by taking up his mission in the world. We follow Jesus by apprenticing others just as he apprenticed his own disciples. Follow Jesus means participating in the mission of Jesus from baptism to the table, from heralding the good news to liberating the oppressed, and from solitude in the wilderness to discipling others.

The mission of Jesus depends on apprenticing others, discipling others in the faith. We do not become disciples of Jesus in solitude or alone. We become disciples through community and apprenticeship. Others took us under their wings. They taught us, modeled life for us, invited us to walk with them, and mentored us. The call to discipleship—the invitation to participate in the life of God through Jesus—involves discipling others. Following Jesus entails inviting others to follow him as well.

Ultimately, the kingdom is about discipleship–following Jesus–rather than a self-interested notion of “getting to heaven.”  Christianity is about participating in the coming of heaven to earth rather than inheriting of a mansion in the sky.

Conclusion

I hope you are able to see a fundamental trajectory in my presentation. It is a movement from the wonder and awe of God’s presence to participation in the mission of God. We begin with doxology, and this fuels mission. Moreover, doxology invites us into the drama of God’s story. We enter this story through the reading of Scripture, and we rehearse in our assemblies and proclaim in our words, sacraments, and ministries. We seek to embody the story of  God, and this is empowered by the presence of the Spirit who unites us, transforms us, and gifts us for the mission.

The church, moved by doxological praise and understanding God’s story, experiences the communion of God’s life through its sacraments and mission because of the work of the Spirit. Through this common practice, together we are apprenticed into the story of God as disciples of Jesus.

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[1] James A. Harding, “About Protracted Meetings,” Gospel Advocate 27, no. 37 (14 September 1887) 588.

A PDF version is available here.

Over a year ago Truth Magazine published an issue that reviewed several of my books, including Searching for the Pattern. In this blog I respond to some prominent concerns in these articles. Some of these are expressed in almost every article by different writers. I thank the reviewers for reading and responding. I’m grateful for their interest and their sense of the discussion’s importance for churches of Christ.

In all my writing and interactions with people my goal is to communicate with a loving, kind, charitable, and generous spirit. No doubt I sometimes (perhaps even often) fail to exhibit that charity. I am grateful when I am challenged about that.

I self-published Searching for the Pattern: My Journey in Interpreting the Bible at Amazon in 2019 (available in print, kindle, and audio; my references to the book will come from the printed copy). I attempted to explain how I presently read the Bible in contrast to how I once read it. Having taught theological hermeneutics in graduate schools for over twenty-five years by 2019, many former students and interested parties wanted something accessible and contextualized within churches of Christ they could give to others to explain the move from a blueprint pattern hermeneutic to a theological hermeneutic. [I had also published a series of blogs in 2008 on hermeneutics that also interested some.]

While I did not conceive my book as a direct assault on non-institutional views among churches of Christ, I can see how it is reasonable to experience it that way. I raised the non-institutional horizon because that was part of my own early experience in wrestling with the received blueprint pattern hermeneutic. This is one reason I did not go into the history, sociology, and psychological dimensions of the institutional/non-institutional division. It was not a conscious part of my deliberations, though I am sure I did not escape the subconscious influences (none of us do). At the same time, I recognize the value of assessing non-institutionalism and its reading of Scripture in its historical context.

Also, I did not pursue the theological dimensions of non-institutionalism that I find healthy (including the emphasis on the faith and good works of people in the local congregations rather than relying on institutions funded by congregations or individuals). There is a theological argument for non-institutionalism that resonates with me regarding the problems of institutional power and denominational machinery. The focus of my book, however, was on the way the blueprint hermeneutic had been employed among churches of Christ since the 1860s (not only in non-institutional congregations).

There is a place for heeding the warnings of church history. I studied historical theology academically because I believe that is important. However, while I wrote with a historical consciousness, my goal in Searching for the Pattern was to explore how to read the Bible more deeply in the present moment; it was a hermeneutical goal rather than a historical one, though those two are often interrelated. My intent was to seek to understand the text rather than reading the biblical text through the lens of pressures among churches of Christ in the mid-twentieth century. I do not want to ignore history or devalue its significance, but neither do I want mid-twentieth century controversies to determine or shape the meaning of a text in its own historical setting and context (at least as best I can).

I did not write Searching for the Pattern to justify any specific practice as an agenda item but to explain and illustrate the hermeneutic that I employed in previous books like Come to the Table, A Gathered People (with Bobby Valentine and Johnny Melton),  Down in the River to Pray (with Greg Taylor), and Enter the Water,  Come to the Table among other pieces. The appendices in Searching for the Pattern reflect something of that (especially assembly and baptism). I have since written three other books that, I hope, helpfully illustrate my hermeneutical practice (Around the Bible in 80 Days, Women Serving God, and Transforming Encounters). Women Serving God is the second in a trilogy, but I did not conceive this trilogy until after I had published Searching for the Pattern. The discussion of women serving God was suggested to me as a next book by several friends and then I began to think of a trilogy while writing Women Serving God. The third book has not yet been published but perhaps it will appear next summer.

In this post, I respond to several criticisms that appeared in the non-institutional (or congregational) journal Truth Magazine (February 2024). Steve Wolfgang, whom I regard as a friend and brother as he does me, pulled together some writers to respond to various aspects of the book. [Correction: editor Mark Mayberry invited, collected, and edited the reviewers.] I have pondered for over a year whether to respond, and I finally committed to addressing some specific points that I find particularly significant for engagement. In this blog I will focus on Searching for the Pattern. Several other articles discuss Come to the Table and Women Serving God. Perhaps I will comment on those in the future.

Concern #1: Did I privilege “feelings over the often-challenging clarity of Scripture” (Truth Magazine, p. 85)?

This question comes in the context of my early consideration of non-institutionalism. As I employed the received hermeneutic (searching Acts and the Epistles for a blueprint pattern authorized by commands, examples, and necessary inferences) it seemed to me that its “rigorous application. . . warranted the conclusion” that congregations were forbidden to share their corporate resources with non-believers because there was no authorization in Acts and the Epistles through any command, example, or necessary inference. My “gut,” as I called it in Searching (pp. 88-90), said something was wrong with this conclusion. At the same time, I recognized my “gut” could be wrong, and it too needed examination because hearts and guts are often deceived, as I said: “I knew I could not always trust my gut” (p. 90).

I ask the reader to pay close attention because “gut” can mean different things depending on the framework in which it is heard. Some may hear it in the vein of emotionalism or a function of confirmation bias. Perhaps I should have chosen different language to make the point. That is my fault, and I apologize for the confusion it created.

My “gut,” however, was not a feeling untethered to the biblical text and its narrative. On the contrary, my “gut” was shaped by the narrative itself, which I explained in the book (pp. 89-90). It was a theological intuition grounded in my formation by the story of God I learned in Sunday school, communal prayers, reading the Bible, listening to my father’s preaching, and singing the hymns of the church. It was a “gut” formed by faith and the teaching of Scripture. It was, I think, a well-informed and well-formed gut. It was not emotionalism.

The choice was never between feeling and Scripture, but between a story-formed understanding based on Scripture and a humanly constructed hermeneutic with a grid for determining authoritative practices that concluded God’s people ought not to share from their church treasury with non-Christians. While the blueprint patternist hermeneutic with its specific (and complicated) use of commands, examples, and inferences seemingly led to a non-institutional conclusion, I believed that conclusion rendered the method (not Scripture) suspect and misguided. Notice “my gut” responded to the method that generated a specific teaching, not the teaching of Scripture itself.

If the biblical text had said, “the covenant people should only share with covenant people,” I would say, “Yes, Lord.” But it does not. It is not that clear, and whatever “clarity” might be claimed is based on a complicated method. It was the blueprint method (not explicit Scripture) that generated a conclusion that was inconsistent with Scripture. It is inconsistent with the story of God from creation to new creation that loves the alien, sends the rain on the just and unjust, and sent Jesus to die for us while we were still enemies. My “gut” was not grounded in emotion or feeling but in the grand narrative of Scripture and specifically the inexpressible gift of Jesus the Messiah to sinners, the enemies of God. My “gut” response was not a rejection of Scripture but a rejection of the specific hermeneutical method because of Scripture. I was led to question the method because its conclusion was so incongruent with the broad sweep of Scripture itself.

Moreover, I rejected the blueprint method’s conclusion long before I was even close to progressive or postmodern (not sure I am now even). So, it is puzzling to see one reviewer appraise my “gut” as the “jumping-off point for the progressive” as if the point was, “This is what the Bible says, but I don’t like it, so I will find some way around it.” Actually, the “saints-only” position “did not sit well with my gut” because this is the opposite of what the story of God teaches in its grand narrative. It was not a rejection of the teaching of Scripture as if I were judging God’s word but a rejection of the specific hermeneutic that, in the view of some, seemingly generated that conclusion. A hermeneutic that leads to the conclusion that the corporate body of Christ cannot share their resources with a poor unbeliever, in my estimation, must be flawed because it is so counter to imitating the God who loves and gives to all people. That is not an emotional conclusion, but a reasoned one based on the narrative of Scripture.

Concern #2: Are blueprint patternism and a theological hermeneutic mutually exclusive methods or tools?

This is an important question. At one level, it asks whether using commands, examples, and inferences are compatible with a theological hermeneutic. “Yes” is my answer. I affirmed that in the book (pages 142-143 or see my video here). Everyone uses commands, examples, and inferences in some form, and everyone searches for some kind of pattern or model. The question is not whether we use them, but how we use them and how we then correlate the data (which was the occasion for the divide between institutional and non-institutional congregations). More importantly, it is also about in what framework we use them (which is where a significant difference lies).

I employ commands, examples, and inferences to discern the will of God, but I do not use them within the framework of a blueprint patternism (which is described in Part I of the book). I do not deny the reality of how rhetoric provides categories of command, example, and inference, but I question how they are construed in service to the search for a blueprint pattern for congregational work and worship. This construal involves complicated rules which are neither intuitive nor obvious from the biblical text. For example, Roy Cogdill has seven rules or laws to determine whether an example is binding alone (Walking by Faith, pp. 22-28). This kind of patternism treats the text in a way inconsistent with its own nature, intent, and genres.

The two are mutually exclusive at the level of framework. They are searching for different sorts of patterns. In other words, I believe the blueprint pattern hermeneutic reads the Bible in a way that it was not intended to be read; it searches for something that is not there (e.g., an ecclesial blueprint for the acts of worship in an assembly). That hermeneutic reads the text to construct a blueprint by mining the data of Acts and the Epistles correlating them through particular extra-biblical guidelines and then constructs what does not itself appear in the text as a detailed, specific, and exclusive pattern. I think that framework is problematic and inconsistent within the biblical text. That framework generates an exclusive system one does not find in Scripture itself. That is what I reject in Searching for the Pattern. I do not reject the reality of commands, examples, and inferences.

The blueprint hermeneutic and theological hermeneutics operate within two different frameworks. In that sense they are incompatible. The blueprint hermeneutic creates something that does not actually exist—it is the product of the hermeneutic. The theological hermeneutic, it seems to me, explores the text to discern the mystery of Christ and imitate God. I employ this hermeneutic because it is what I see, for example, Jesus and Paul doing (as I discuss in the book, pp. 90-104, 177-181).

To be sure, blueprint advocates can and do employ a theological hermeneutic at times. I am grateful they do. I think, for example, James A. Harding did this. In this sense they are not mutually exclusive because some employ both, but ultimately—as frameworks—they conflict at points (e.g., the “saints-only” view, frequency of the Lord’s supper, etc.). Blueprint advocates also seem to prioritize the constructed blueprint (called positive law in the Restoration Movement) over the conclusions of a theological hermeneutic. I rejected the blueprint hermeneutic as a method, in part, because it conflicted with God’s own identity as one who loves all, shares his resources with all, gives his Son for all, and calls us to imitate God (this returns to the point in concern #1). Thus, I prioritize the theological story of Scripture over a pattern generated and constructed by the blueprint hermeneutic (and not everyone agreed that the pattern entailed the “saints-only” position).

Concern #3:  should we be concerned if “the church ‘is ‘scandalized’ and ‘shame[d] in the eyes of contemporary culture’?” (Truth Magazine, p. 87).

While this concern arises from a reading of Women Serving God (p. 210), it applies also to whether hermeneutical shifts are based on fear of cultural shaming.

I am not concerned about cultural shaming if it is a matter of truth. Culture may shame the church because it believes Jesus rose from the dead, affirms the traditional sexual ethic, or opposes abortion. I am willing to accept that shaming and cultural scandal. I am not at all dissatisfied with biblical teaching, though I am sometimes disappointed by how some people have taught the Bible or made it say what it does not say (including myself).

At the same time, we should be concerned with cultural shaming and scandal if a biblical truth is not at stake. If, for example, the church requires practices that are not required by Scripture or inconsistent with Scripture, and this creates the occasion for cultural shaming, then this is a significant problem. Paul was concerned that the church should not offend culture in 1 Corinthians 10:32.

In principle, however, I am unconcerned about whether the culture shames the church if what the church practices and teaches is the will of the Lord. But if it is not the will of the Lord, then when the culture shames us and we give offence, it hinders the mission of God. One example of the latter is how many churches supported and defended the institution of American slavery in the 1600-1800s.

Concern #4: Can we “follow God’s pattern and trust in God’s grace for our assurance?” (Truth Magazine, p. 94).

Yes! Otherwise, we must choose between living in perpetual doubt (knowing we have not obeyed the pattern perfectly or have understood it perfectly) or living in self-righteousness (as if we have obeyed the pattern and understood it perfectly). This is not an either/or. There is another option. We seek to do the will of God even though we will always do it imperfectly and we trust in God’s grace which does not require perfection. In this sense I wrote that we might want to “let go of perfectionism”—whether personal or ecclesial. As the reviewer wrote, “There is a difference between perfectionism and faithfulness” (Truth Magazine, p. 94). That is my point. We can be faithful to God even when we do not perfectly follow the pattern or even perfectly understand the pattern. Perhaps we can see this point more clearly when we recognize (as we all do) that Jesus is our pattern for life and loving. None of us measure up to that standard or understand it fully.

Some perceive in my language a “disgust for careful obedience” (Truth Magazine, p. 99).  I hope I do not; I do not think I do. I want to obey God carefully. I seek to obey God in every way I see God’s call upon my life. I want to discern the will of God and walk in it.

One writer wrote that I am attempting to “hoist[my] readers onto the horns of a false dilemma” (Truth Magazine, p. 100). He then quotes what he apparently thinks is me (“Hicks . . . He says, . . .”). He mistakenly attributes the quotation of David Lipscomb to me (Searching, 169; from Gospel Advocate [May 30, 1912] 671). I think it is a helpful thought, so I do not mind the attribution.

“I had rather go before God realizing my weakness and liability to sin, trusting Him for mercy and pardon, than to go relying upon my good understanding and obedience to the perfect will of God.”

My interlocuter comments, “why does it have to be one or the other? Can’t we go before God with confidence because we tried to understand and do His will out of love and gratitude while still realizing that we are sinful, and so we trust in His grace for mercy and pardon?” (Truth Magazine, p. 100; emphasis mine). Absolutely! The key point, however, is “tried” (or seek). We all do that imperfectly in our weaknesses such that our “good understanding and obedience” (which are imperfect) are insufficient imitations of the “perfect will of God.” Yes, let us do our best to discern the will of God (understand it) and obey it, but since it is an imperfect understanding and obedience, let us learn to ultimately rely on the “mercy and pardon” of God.

Concern #5:  Can we “know the will of the Lord, when the Bible teaches that we can (Eph. 5:17)” (Truth Magazine, p. 95).

Yes, we can know the will of the Lord. We are called to discern the will of God and walk worthy of our calling as children of light in the darkness and as wise people (Ephesians 4:1; 5:8, 15). That is the point of hermeneutics, that is, to discern the will of God for our lives.

When we read Ephesians, we can both understand the “mystery of Christ” (Ephesians 3:3-4) and discern what the will of the Lord is for our lives (Ephesians 5:17). In the former, we understand what God has done in Christ by the Spirit, and in the latter, we see how God calls and commands believers to respond to what God has done: to be kind to one another, love one another, forgive one another, submit to another, be patient with one another, avoid sexual immorality and greed, use our language with grace and compassion rather than in anger, etc. We can discern the will of God for our lives, and, ultimately, this is about imitating God and Christ (Ephesians 5:1-2).

But I suspect that my respondent has something more particular in mind such as the blueprint pattern for the work and worship of the church. Because I reject the blueprint hermeneutic, it seems that I deny that we can discern the will of God. In fact, however, what I reject is not the will of God but a blueprint hermeneutic that generates a construct that is supposedly required by the will of God when it is not.

Perhaps, however, another thought looms in the background. The blueprint hermeneutic proports to arrive at conclusions with little ambiguity and significant certainty. The theological hermeneutic seems, at times, to be more ambiguous than certain. There is an element of truth here because I think the blueprint hermeneutic claims certainty in some specifics where there is none, and the theological hermeneutic recognizes that there is ambiguity regarding some specifics (e.g., see below on the frequency of the Lord’s supper).

Perhaps this ambiguity is the origin of the charge that I assume we cannot know the will of the Lord. The question is not whether ambiguity denies the capacity to discern the Lord’s will. Rather, it may be that ambiguity is part of the Lord’s will in the sense that God has not specified some specifics though the blueprint pattern assumes God has. It may be the ambiguity is intentional, that is, God does not have a specific frequency in mind for the Lord’s supper.

But a further thought may also be lurking in the background. The charge against the theological hermeneutic is that its ambiguity is a slippery slope and provides an opportunity to assert a broad theological principle to subvert and deny biblical truths. This is a legitimate concern. However, the danger is mostly present when a supposed theological principle is used to supplant and overturn an explicit directive or prohibition in Scripture. This is what Richard and Christopher Hays do in their recent book. That is not a properly functioning theological hermeneutic.

When there is an explicit directive or prohibition in the biblical text which is (1) consistent throughout Scripture, (2) rightly understood in its contexts, (3) applied in diverse cultures without adaptation and with theological grounding, and (4) is rooted in the origins, narrative, and goals of God’s story, the theological hermeneutic has solid ground to hear and obey (I think blueprint advocates probably agree with the above sentence). [The numbers are not “steps” but only for clarity about the sorts of things to consider; and these points are not necessarily the only considerations, but they are substantial ones.]

My problem with the blueprint hermeneutic is what it adds to a theological hermeneutic based on a pattern constructed from the text by correlating commands, examples, and inferences deemed binding and exclusive because of inferred propositions. It creates prohibitions and directives that are not explicit in the text and sometimes are used to bind the consciences of others as a condition of fellowship (whatever those conditions are in terms of identifying the true church, such as weekly communion).

The theological hermeneutic is not a slippery slope. It maintains what is substantive, explicit, and rooted in the narrative as a backstop against the misuse of so-called theological principles that subvert and uproot explicit God-given traditions communicated in Scripture.

Concern #6: “Are commands fundamentally legal tests of loyalty or are they modes of transformation?” (Truth Magazine, p. 95, quoting Searching for the Pattern, p. 173).

My reviewer answered, it is both! I agree. This is a both/and. Obedience to God’s commands is a matter of allegiance. Our baptisms are oaths of allegiance; they are acts of discipleship though much more, of course. I thank the reviewer for pressing this point. At the same time, in the context of my discussion, I was pointing to the ultimate goal (telos) of commands. That is why I added the word “fundamentally.” God’s goal is transformation into and conformation to the image of Christ.

The context in which I raise this question is more layered than the abstract question itself (Searching, 174-177). It comes against the backdrop of discerning the blueprint pattern so that it becomes a test of the true (loyal) church. Thus, the only true assembly of believers is the one that correctly discerns the specifics of the blueprint, does them, and does them exclusively. In that setting the emphasis in “legal tests of loyalty” proceeds in legal categories (binding example?), tests of fellowship (which example is a line in the sand?), and identification of loyalty to the pattern.

My primary concern in that section of the book was that the pattern constructed out of the text through humanly devised rules (e.g., specific commands or examples that exclude coordinates) became fundamentally a test of loyalty. Such a move tends to (but does not necessarily) supplant, overrule, or minimize the goal of transformation, which is God’s ultimate purpose. The test of loyalty for fellowship based on a correct pattern becomes more important with respect to divine judgment and fellowship than transformation.  Or, as James A. Harding put it, obedience to positive law has priority because one can keep that precisely and perfectly but we cannot keep moral law perfectly due to our weaknesses.

Perhaps this is where concern arises about obedience and grace as well. If one believes a blueprint hermeneutic can generate implicit positive commands (in the sense of positive law) from the scattered data of Scripture (e.g., the Lord’s supper every Sunday and only on Sunday as a test of a true church), then obedience to that positive command is a test of loyalty and one must obey it perfectly and precisely. In this sense, perfect obedience is expected and necessary. When one prioritizes commands as tests of loyalty, this tends toward the expectation of perfect or precise obedience such that grace is dependent upon complete obedience of all the positive laws (whether implicit or explicit). The previous quote from Lipscomb addresses this well; we seek God’s mercy and pardon even when we fail to keep positive laws as well as moral ones imperfectly.

God’s commands, while they do function as oaths of allegiance and commitments of loyalty, primarily function as modes of transformation. God commands in order to transform us and not primarily to test our loyalty. Does God test us? Yes, of course. But why does God test us? The answer in Deuteronomy 8:1-4 and other texts is to see what is in our hearts. God wants to transform the heart, and his commands are means toward that end. To the degree that we think of them as only or primarily tests of loyalty we are in danger of reducing God’s commands to abstract fiats that draw a line in the sand between the saved and lost. That, to my mind, is dangerous, and it misses the ultimate point of commands which is transformation into the image of God.

Concern #7: “Searching for the Pattern begins with a condescending tone…[and] repeatedly labels the churches he grew up in as ‘simple folk’” (Truth Magazine, p. 99).

I did my best to avoid a condescending tone. Perhaps I failed. Readers will have to judge for themselves. I expressed love for the churches of my youth (as well as the church today) and the people in them. I warmly and gratefully acknowledge that I was formed by their spiritual mentorship. I have no ill will toward them. In fact, I used the phrases “simple folk” (once) or “simple people” (twice) on pages 24-25 (and only on those pages) to describe their modest means, hard-working culture, and unadorned practices. “Simple” was a compliment, not a criticism. Those people (including my parents) and the simple practices of congregational life formed me. I am grateful. Simplicity has tremendous value, and I seek a simple faith in the Lord Jesus. At the same time, I can see how “simple” could be heard negatively, though I did not intend that.

I did use the word “simple” in another way in the book (e.g., Searching, 79-80). I used it in contrast to something complicated. Part of the appeal of the blueprint hermeneutic is its supposed simplicity, but the more one digs into its argument and application, the more complicated it becomes. It is not simple (e.g., deciding when an example is binding and when it is not, when a command excludes a coordinate, or when an inference is necessary to decide whether it is a line of fellowship or not). What I once thought was simple in terms of “simply obeying the Bible” did not turn out to be so simple, especially in the blueprint hermeneutic. In other words, hermeneutical decisions or discerning the will of the Lord is not always simple or facile. This is especially true when it is complicated by extra-biblical hermeneutical rules that seek to identify a specified blueprint in Acts and the Epistles that is not there. In that way, the blueprint hermeneutic and its use of commands, examples, and inferences in that framework are not simple but complicated. It is not common sensical. It constructs specified patterns that do not actually exist and are not explicitly articulated in the text.

Concern #8: “No one opposes Jesus as the pattern, but how does that work practically? . . . What does the ‘the pattern of Jesus’ entail? And SFTP avoids specifics” (Truth Magazine, p. 101).

I am grateful no one would oppose Jesus as the pattern. The point, however, is that Jesus as pattern stands in contrast to a blueprint constructed out of the data of Acts & the Epistles (cf. Searching, 133-136, 181-184). When I talk about Jesus as pattern, I am focusing on the redemptive story of Jesus: his incarnation, ministry, death, resurrection, and enthronement. This is the mystery of Christ; it is the gospel itself. Jesus as pattern refers to what God has done in Jesus by the power of the Spirit for our salvation. Or, as I expand it in other places with the summaries we find in the New Testament, it is the pattern of divine saving activity which God works for us. It is the story of God’s inexpressible gift that shapes our lives. When we respond to this work of God, we are obedient to our confession of the gospel of Christ (2 Corinthians 9:13).

The pattern as I conceive it, then, is the narrative of God’s work for us, and our response to that narrative is conformation to the image of Christ or the imitation of God as God is known through the narrative.  We seek to understand the mystery of Christ and embody that in our congregations and in our lives. But the “mystery of Christ” is not a constructed ecclesial blueprint with prescribed specifics that the text never articulates. Rather, the mystery of Christ is the narrative of God’s work; it is the story in which we participate as disciples of Christ as we imitate God and Jesus.

How does this work practically? I attempted to answer that question in the book, but I could have done more to clarify, explain, or illustrate. That would have made it a much longer book. Yet, readers can see extended examples in my other books, including the trilogy of Come to the Table, Down in the River to Pray, and A Gathered People. Or read my most accessible book, Transforming Encounters. The appendices in Searching for the Pattern function as brief illustrations, and several texts are used as examples in the main part of the book, especially 1 Corinthians 16:1-2 and the Lord’s supper. They are illustrations of the theological hermeneutic at work as I seek to discern the will of God through the narrative, including its commands, examples, and inferences.

Part of the problem, it seems, is that the blueprint hermeneutic identifies details and specifics that only the blueprint hermeneutic could construct from the data. Consequently, when those same specifics are not in the pattern I discern in the narrative of Scripture through the lens of the mystery of Christ, then my sense of the pattern is judged incorrect. To the blueprint interpreter it looks like I avoid specifics because I do not have all the specifics the blueprint interpreter expects.

Does Searching for the Pattern advocate any specifics? There are abundant specifics (assembling, baptizing, communing at the table, etc.) but perhaps not the sort that my reviewer anticipates, expects, or desires. This is where I suggest we must let the narrative of Scripture tell its own story rather than imposing expectations on it. The specifics must arise out of the story itself rather than out of a construct of that discovers, correlates, and rearranges the data in the New Testament into a blueprint that is not explicitly there.

For example, is there a prescribed frequency to the Lord’s supper in Scripture? I discuss this in Searching on pages 159-162. Some might say I am avoiding specifics when I claim that there is no prescribed frequency or exclusively specified day for the Lord’s supper. To generate a positive law that the church must eat every week and only on Sunday is the effect of the received blueprint hermeneutic. At the same time, this is an inference from the text, and it is not a necessary one even within the blueprint hermeneutical model. Yet, the frequency of the Supper is typically considered a consensus model for how to use the blueprint method (e.g., J.  D. Thomas, We Be Brethern, pp. 93-104;  Roy Cogdill, Walking by Faith, pp. 14-15).

The theological hermeneutic notes that the New Testament tells us the story of the resurrection of Jesus, the breaking of bread with Jesus, and a table to which God has invited us. There is a command to do this in remembrance of Jesus, there are examples of breaking bread daily in Acts 2:46 and of breaking bread on the first day of the week in Acts 20:7, and there are multiple connections between Israel’s table and the church’s table as well as how the ministry of Jesus teaches a kingdom table etiquette. There is a theology of the table that reaches from Israel through the ministry of Jesus and his church into the new heaven and new earth (the Messianic banquet). The theological narrative is rich and deep. But there is no explicitly prescribed frequency. Rather, there is the joy of the disciples breaking bread with Jesus whenever and wherever there is an opportunity for the community to gather and celebrate what God has done for us. Or, as Paul said, “as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup” (1 Corinthians 11:26).

I hasten to add, as I did in the book, that there are good theological reasons to gather around the table of the Lord every first day of the week. I practice weekly, and I encourage it and teach it as a weighty theological conclusion. However, it is not prescribed such that a church is unfaithful if they do not eat every Sunday, if they eat more than once a week, or if they also eat on Wednesday or Thursday. The theological point is that it is a joy to gather with the people of God at the table of God whenever there is opportunity. I often gather around the table of the Lord with disciples of Jesus in my home. It does not matter what day or how often. What matters is that we commune together in the body and blood of the Lord, love and serve each other at the table, and proclaim the gospel.

I suppose one could say I avoid specifics because I do not think there is a prescribed day or frequency. But it seems to me that the case for a prescribed day or frequency as a ground for discerning a true church is based on inferences and rules generated by a blueprint hermeneutic rather than stated in the text. On this point, it seems to me the theological hermeneutic is more faithful to the text and its ambiguity (liberty or freedom is another way of saying that) than the blueprint hermeneutic which forces the text to prescribe something the text never explicitly states. The prescription is itself an inference, and it is not a necessary one. Sometimes we create specifics that bind the conscience of others and are made tests of loyalty that are not prescribed by the Lord or explicitly in the Lord’s will. That binding of inferences is exactly what Thomas Campbell’s Declaration and Address condemned (as I noted in the book, pp. 82-83).

Concern #9: Do the “Gospels contribute heavily to the pattern of Scripture” (Truth Magazine, p. 99)?

Yes, I think they should (Searching, 133-137). The ministry of Jesus is a resource for how we think about the mission and practices of the church. The ministry of Jesus embodies the mission of God in the world, and the mission of Jesus is the mission of the church. So, yes, the Gospels form and shape the pattern we seek to obey. I stressed this in many ways, including reading the Bible like Jesus reads the Bible.

But the question is more specific than this. The reviewer disputes that the Gospels are not used to discern the pattern in the blueprint hermeneutic. Historically, even going back to Alexander Campbell, the practice of the blueprint hermeneutic draws some lines between the ministry of Jesus and the practices of the church (see Searching, 30-33). Part of the context of my discussion of the Gospels is how the distinction between the covenants is understood. In Acts 2 God inaugurates the new covenant and the church begins through the outpouring of the Spirit from the exalted King Jesus. From that point forward, the apostles teach and practice, as the blueprint hermeneutic argues, the pattern that Jesus gave the disciples, especially during the forty days of his resurrection appearances. Jesus, it is sometimes said, showed them the pattern, analogous to how Moses was shown the pattern for the tabernacle on Mount Sinai. Apostolic teaching in Acts and the Epistles, then, defines the pattern for the work and worship of the church, not the Gospels.

In the context of a specified ecclesial pattern for the work and worship of a congregation rather than the ethical teaching of Jesus (e.g., his teaching on divorce and remarriage, on loving enemies, etc.), the Gospels have no legal, positivistic, or authoritative function for the practices of the church unless what is found in the Gospels is repeated in Acts and the Epistles.

Here is a classic example. Jesus instituted the Lord’s supper on a Thursday night, but this is not a pattern for the church because Acts and the Epistles only authorize the first day of the week (so the argument goes). Thursday, even though it was the day Jesus gave the bread and fruit of the vine to his disciples, is not an authorized time because the Gospels do not set the pattern for the church. The example of Jesus is insufficient for a Thursday Lord’s supper because his actions do not constitute a pattern for the church. Part of the reason they do not is because Jesus was still acting under the old covenant. We practice eating the bread and drinking the fruit of the vine because this is sanctioned by Paul in 1 Corinthians 11 (e.g., something in the Gospels is repeated in the Acts & the Epistles and thus gives it apostolic authority for ecclesial practices).

The Gospels, as the hermeneutic typically proceeds, are insufficient as patterns for the work and worship of the church. The ethical teaching and example of Jesus might apply to individuals (e.g., Jesus heals gentiles outside of the covenant community) but does not apply to the church (who cannot share with people outside of the covenant community according to non-institutional congregations). It is in this sense that I noted that the pattern for the blueprint is only found in Acts & the Epistles; it is not found in the Gospels, according to the typical blueprint hermeneutic in the history of churches of Christ.

Concern #10: Searching for the Pattern, as an example of “’Progressive Christianity’ is all about feelings, experiences, and ultimately, it is all about the following. The movement is focused on how I can impact people so they stay invested in my material and my podcasts, thus keeping my following?” (Truth Magazine, p. 131).

This is disappointing. It assesses my motives rather than my teaching. I hope readers understand how inaccurate it is to describe my book as focusing on “feelings” and “experiences.”  Perhaps the above concern is largely due to a misunderstanding of what I meant by “gut,” and I will assume some responsibility for that potential misunderstanding. At the same time, the book is immersed in the text of Scripture. But I do not see how my book suggests that I am simply catering to a following and keeping people interested in me. The above statement is a projection onto my work rather than arising from it. It imposes a motive which, if I know my heart, is simply false.

I am also accused of postmodernism. I’m not sure what that means except that my perceived emotionalism and fondness for the language of “story” are evidence of it. I previously debunked the emotional charge generated by my use of “gut.” The charge based on the use of “story” is strange to me. I would understand it if my story (in terms of my experience) was the basis of my teaching. But “my story” (as in the title of the book) is about my pilgrimage or journey. It is a biblical theme. Whether it is a journey in the wilderness, or the ascent of pilgrims to Mount Zion, or the journey of Christ’s life from birth to baptism to death, we all have a story and we are all on a journey. The journey is where we seek to discern the will of the Lord, know it better, understand it more deeply, and grow in love for God and each other. It is the journey to more fully know the love of Christ that passes all knowledge. It is not a postmodern declaration but a desire of the heart for which we pray just as Paul prayed for the Ephesians in 1:15-19 and 3:14-21.

So, my prayer for all my reviewers is that “the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give [us] a Spirit of wisdom and revelation as [we] come to know him better.” With Paul, “I pray that [we] may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that [we] may be filled with all the fullness of. God.”

I am grateful we are on this journey from glory to glory until we are fully conformed to the image of Christ, my brothers and sisters!

Stone-Campbell Study Group: Stone-Campbell Journal Conference 2025

Also available in PDF here.

In what I regard as a seminal article written almost forty years ago, Richard L. Harrison, Jr., raised the question “Who, indeed, are the Disciples?” as the new denomination sought to define itself in relation to other Christian traditions.[1] Though he focused on early Disciple sacramental theology, his analysis provides significant markers for the whole movement. He concluded that Disciple sacramental theology is indebted to Catholic, Reformed, and Free Church traditions. The place and function of the sacraments were Catholic “in nature,” their meaning was “generally Reformed” (following Calvin rather than Zwingli), and their liturgical celebration was “decidedly” Free Church.[2] The result is a “distinctive” mixture that is not identified with any of the three traditions.[3] Harrison saw this a valuable part of Disciples identity; it contributes to their raison d’existence. Though their sacramental theology might be categorized as generally Reformed because none of these elements are in “fundamental conflict with the broad picture of the Reformed tradition,” through their distinctive sacramental theology the Disciples “proclaim by their very nature the unity and diversity of God’s church.”[4] However, some might regard it as an eclectic and piece-meal stitching together of a nonsensical tertium quid.

In this essay, I extend Harrison’s insight to the theology and practice of Churches of Christ as an expression of the American Restoration Movement, and I expand the picture he offers. Specifically, I propose a five-fold typology that seeks a more comprehensive picture of how Churches of Christ are situated in the history of the Christian tradition. I do not mean to say that these elements are not also applicable to the early leaders of the Stone-Campbell Movement or that they are not applicable to the two other major streams of the movement. There is, no doubt, overlap and even a core belongs to all the streams. However, my interest is particularly Churches of Christ given both my assignment and my social location. Even more specifically, I will identify the DNA of Churches of Christ as what emerged from 1889-1939 where their identity was formed and solidified in distinction from the Disciples of Christ.

With Harrison, I affirm the Catholic and Reformed indebtedness, and I adjust the language of “Free church” to “Anabaptist” as I think we are more indebted to Anabaptists than we are New England Congregationalists (though they did, of course, have a strong impact). To Harrison’s analysis, I add two other categories. We might call both “evangelical,” but this is where confusion arises, especially when we consider there is a third category that we might also call “Evangelical.” This confusion is distracting and disruptive. So, it is necessary to offer some explanation.

Above, I associated the term “evangelical” with three different groups, though these groups may overlap. First, evangelical refers to the narration of the gospel story as in something akin to the Apostles’ Creed or the second and third century versions of the Rule of Faith. These are, as Campbell called them, the “gospel facts.” It is an evangelical core; it is the story of God creating the world, sending the Son, and rescuing us by the Spirit for the sake of reconciliation and communion in a new heaven and new earth. Matthew Bates’ recent book, Beyond the Salvation Wars, has argued that all Christians traditions, particularly the ones that affirm the Nicene Creed, are evangelical in this sense. “The genuine gospel,” he writes, “has never been entirely absent during the last two thousand years of Christian history.” [5] They all proclaim and sing the gospel story.

Second, evangelical refers to those who, based on a strong biblicism, place crucicentrism and conversion at the heart of their faith. They are evangelistic and revivalistic. They affirm the importance of a personal conversion narrative (much like among Churches of Christ we tell our baptismal stories). These are the evangelicals Jamey Gorman describes in his book, Among the Early Evangelicals: The Transatlantic Origins of the Stone-Campbell Movement.[6] The Stone-Campbell Movement arose out of this evangelical mixture in the wake of the First and Second Great Awakenings, and its roots reach back to missionary and evangelical projects in the British Isles. This group of evangelicals would embrace the evangelicalism of the first group, but not everyone in that first group would identify with the revivalism of this second group (e.g., Roman Catholic).

Third, Evangelical (notice the capitalization) as a late 20^th and early 21^st century movement refers to a group whose activism is thoroughly political. It seeks institutional and political power to reverse the moral failings of the nation in a way akin to some form of Christian Nationalism (a current version of which is the Apostolic Reformation movement in the US). Whether we begin with theonomic perspectives, dominion theology, or Falwell’s Moral Majority in the 1970s, this mix of Fundamentalism and social activism has come to dominant or, at least, hold significant sway over much of the conservative landscape of the American church.[7] This group may include people from the first and second groups (e.g., there are MAGA Catholics) while people in the first and second groups are not necessarily Evangelical in this third sense. In contrast, historically, Churches of Christ have embraced a cultural separatism of sorts that promoted an alternative community in contrast to institutional and cultural powers.[8]

Against this backdrop, I offer this five-fold typology for locating the Churches of Christ within the Christian Tradition.

• Evangelical Gospel
• Catholic Tradition (East and West)
• Reformed Tradition
• Anabaptist Tradition
• Evangelical Revivalism

What is missing from this typology is contemporary Evangelicalism which is characterized by a desire for political power. This is not part of the DNA of Churches of Christ who are more indebted to the kingdom politics of David Lipscomb than to Jerry Falwell’s Moral Majority. To whatever extent Churches of Christ buy into MAGA politics and Christian Nationalism, it is out of step with the historical trajectory of its mothers and fathers. To whatever degree Churches of Christ embrace this cultural agenda they are no longer faithful to their own roots and represent a radical break from that tradition. Many congregations and individuals within Churches of Christ, however, are moving in that direction.

As I explain this typology, it is important to remember that while Churches of Christ may trace their family of origins through this lens and the best of Churches of Christ are seen through it, dysfunction is also part of our history. In other words, whatever good we may see in our roots and their faithful expression, our history is complicated by dysfunction through misinterpretation, misguided emphases, and ideological agendas. In other words, Churches of Christ are not perfect.

1.  Evangelical Gospel.  Early Disciples and Churches of Christ shared the common faith of the historic church. While they did not embrace creedal formulations, they affirmed the faith narrated, for example, in the Apostles’ Creed. As Campbell put it, that creed, unlike “modern creeds” which are a “synopsis of opinions,” is “a brief narrative of facts, of all the great gospel facts.” [9] Campbell believed that “[e]very society in Christendom admits the same faith or builds on all the same grand evangelical facts.”[10] These gospel facts are the basis for a “common Christianity,” an evangelical core that everyone within the Christian tradition confesses.[11]  This lies at the root of what Robert Richardson called a “SIMPLE EVANGELICAL CHRISTIANITY.”[12] This is the language we find in the 1809 Declaration and Address. The Christian Association of Washington was created “for the sole purpose of promoting simple evangelical Christianity, free from all mixture of human opinions and inventions of men.”[13] Alexander Campbell pleaded for all Christians to unite upon this simple evangelical Christianity and to make their “the rule of union” that whatever in faith, in piety, and morality is catholic, or universally admitted by all parties, shall be adopted as the basis of union.”[14] Dysfunction arose when the gospel was identified more with the commands than the facts of God’s redemptive work or even with the New Testament as a whole rather than its basic message. These miscues are not uncommon in the history of Churches of Christ.

2. Catholic Tradition (East and West).  Brad East’s recent article in Restoration Quarterly argues that catholicity—in the sense of both East and West—is part of the DNA of the Stone-Campbell Movement. Essentially, “catholic” refers to a high ecclesiology in which the church is central to soteriology and God’s mission, baptismal sacramentalism, and the assembled liturgical community (including its mystical importance [where we meet God] and weekly communion with the risen Christ).[15] This is similar to Campbell’s three positive ordinances of Christianity: Baptism, Lord’s Day, and Lord’s Supper,[16] which Harrison also noted.[17] Further it looks to the “early church” as a “paradigm of moral, spiritual and sacramental faithfulness.” As East asserts, “the church simply is Christianity as God instituted on earth.”[18] I think this is essentially correct, and in this sense Churches of Christ are deeply embedded within a world of sacramental imagination, though we would never call it that. Dysfunction arose when the sacramental imagination was limited to baptism, and even more so when baptism was regarded as primarily a test of loyalty rather than a divine work. A further dysfunction arose when we began to regard “our” congregations as co-extensive with the body of Christ.

3. Reformed Tradition. According to Harrison, the Reformed tradition was probably the most dominant influence upon the early leaders of the Stone-Campbell Movement. This is not too surprising since both Stone and the Campbells were trained and lived in Presbyterian congregations. Those roots are deep, and we may observe its impact from several different angles. First, the Campbells employed a Reformed hermeneutic (seen in Zwingli, Calvin, and the Puritans) called the regulative principle by which, according to the Westminster Confession, God prescribed “the acceptable way of worshipping the true God” which God “instituted by himself, and so limited by his own revealed will, that he may not be worshipped according to the imaginations and devices of men . . . or any other way not prescribed in the holy Scripture” (XXI.1). The Reformed hermeneutic assumed an ecclesial pattern in the New Testament and discerned it by using explicit statements or deducing others from Scripture by “good and necessary consequence” (I.6). Alexander Campbell began his series on “order” within the restoration of the ancient order with two presuppositions: (1) “there is a divine authorized order of Christian worship in Christian assemblies” and (2) “the christian worship in Christian assemblies is uniformly the same.”[19] The apostles provided the “constitution and law of the primitive church,” and so “shall [it] be the constitution and law of the restored church.”[20] The Churches of Christ embraced a pattern hermeneutic that used command, example, and inference as its method of discernment. Dysfunction arose when patternism became a rigid exclusivism such that it turned into ecclesial perfectionism.

Another dimension of Reformed influence is seen in the polity and liturgy of the early Disciples. Harrison recognizes the liturgical elements, but we can expand beyond sacramental administration. The sobering atmosphere of the assembly and the practices of singing, exhorting, teaching, and communing essentially reproduced what one would find in early American Presbyterianism or Puritan dissenter congregations (with the explicit addition of weekly communion). More importantly, the organization of congregations under the leadership of elders and deacons was typical of the Reformed tradition. Dysfunction arose when leadership became authoritarian, and the order of worship became specifically prescribed and rigidly exclusive.

4. Anabaptist Tradition. While the “free church” influence of New England congregationalism is present (especially in Stone), the Anabaptist tradition appears more influential (especially upon Churches of Christ). I see this, most evidently, in four ways. First, Anabaptist communities are congregational in character, though they vary in how radical this is. Typically, as in New England congregationalism, there were also often extra-congregational organizations and structures. At the heart of the Anabaptist vision, however, is the voluntary nature of the congregation, that is, a regenerated community that gathered for mutual discipline and worship. Second, as voluntary communities, they emphasized discipleship through the imitation of Jesus and obedience to the Lordship of Christ. Church discipline was practiced with a seriousness among early Disciples and early Churches of Christ that mirrored the “ban” in Anabaptist communities. Third, believer’s baptism, as among the Anabaptists (and Baptists of early 19^th century America), was standard practice among early Disciples. However, the meaning of the sacrament was more Reformed or even Catholic than among the Anabaptists. Fourth, the sense of cultural isolation and association with the poor was shared with the Anabaptist tradition (though this was not universal among Disciples, especially Alexander Campbell himself). However, it was predominantly true in the South, especially post-Civil War, and thus it is a key element of the formation of the identity of Churches of Christ. Dysfunction arose with the loss of cultural separatism (e.g., the embrace of Christian Nationalism) and with a radical congregationalism that hindered cooperation among congregations.

5. Evangelical Revivalism. The Stone-Campbell Movement was birthed in the fires of evangelical revivalism. Cane Ridge and the Washington Association were soaked in it. Cane Ridge was an expression of the Second Great Awakening which saw unity in revivalistic preaching and the work of the Spirit. The Declaration and Address was an American expression of British evangelical zeal that sought unity for the sake of mission. Both Stone and Campbell intended to lay aside denominationalism by uniting upon the New Testament alone so that the church might unite in mission for the sake of the world. While Stone’s fiery and spirited revivalism ultimately gave way to Campbell’s rational version—the mourner’s bench was replaced by believer’s baptism, this revivalism produced a conversion narrative recognized by the community of believers. That narrative was personal and necessary for incorporation into the body. Dysfunction arose when the tradition became more concerned about revivalism than discipleship.

A significant byproduct of this sort of evangelicalism (along with Anabaptist tendencies) within the Stone-Campbell Movement, especially Churches of Christ, has been the practice of the priesthood of all believers. This invites every disciple to participate in the mission of God and use their gifts in service to God. This entailed a non-sacerdotalism, that is, no disciple had special or unique priestly or clerical privileges in the community. Every believer (only male, at least in its origin) may baptize and lead the congregation in worship through prayer, reading, exhortation, singing, and communion. Everyone is fully invested with priestly privileges though they may not all share the same gifts.

These five historic Christian traditions are particularly important for shaping and identifying the distinctive nature of the Stone-Campbell tradition, particularly Churches of Christ.

So, who are we? That was the original question Harrison raised. We are a community that confesses the evangelical (gospel) message under the guidancew of Scripture. We affirm the soteriological and missional significance of the church, and we affirm not only the prominence of its sacraments but their efficacy by the Spirit of God. We read Scripture closely and attend to its details (though the nature of the patternism envisioned may vary considerably among congregations), and we organize our independent congregations under the lay leadership of elders and deacons. These communities are voluntary, regenerated, and committed to communal life together as the primary means by which God addresses the world and its powers. The church is itself a missionary community as it seeks to proclaim the gospel of Christ and invite people to participate in God’s life through the community. We are a community of disciples shaped by sacramental means of grace, guided by Scripture, dedicated to transformation and discipleship, and committed to mission. Unfortunately, the Churches of Christ, due in part to their rationalistic embrace of a patternistic hermeneutic, became exclusivist and separated themselves from the rest of the Christian tradition itself.

Are we, that is, Churches of Christ, evangelicals? I pose the question considering our DNA, whether from the early Disciples or from the Hardeman Tabernacle Sermons in 1922-1923. Yes and No. Yes, in the sense that we confess the gospel facts. Yes, in the sense that we embrace a missional, even revivalistic, agenda. But, no, in the sense that we participate in the current cultural movement toward Christian nationalism and political power. However, many congregations of Churches of Christ are now embracing some of this nationalism and thirst for political power. To that extent, they represent a divergence from the historic identity of Churches of Christ.

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[1] Richard L. Harrison, Jr., “Early Disciples Sacramental Theology: Catholic, Reformed, and Free,” Mid-Stream 24, no. 3 (July 1985): 255. Reprinted in Classic Themes of Disciples Theology: Rethinking the Traditional Affirmations of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), ed. Kenneth Lawrence (Fort Worth, TX: Texas Christian University, 1986), 49-100.

[2] Harisson, “Early Disciples,” 285.

[3] Harrison, “Early Disciples,” 286.

[4] Harrison, “Early Disciples,” 290.

[5] Matthew W. Bates, Beyond the Salvation Wars: Why Protestants and Catholics Must Reimagine How We Are Saved (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2025), 18.

[6] James L. Gorman, Among the Early Evangelicals: The Transatlantic Origins of the Stone-Campbell Movement (Abilene, TX: Abilene University Press, 2017), 17-18.

[7] See Tim Alberta, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism (San Francisco: Harper, 2023).

[8] See John Mark Hicks, ed., Resisting Babel: Allegiance to God and the Problem of Government (Abilene, TX: Abilene Christian University Press, 2020).

[9] Alexander Campbell, “Reply to Barnabas,” Millennial Harbinger 3, no. 12 (December 1832): 602.

[10] Alexander Campbell, A Debate Between Rev. A. Campbell and Rev. N. L. Rice on the Action, Subject, Design and Administrator of Christian Baptism: also, on the Character of Spiritual Influence in Conversion and Sanctification, and on the Expediency and Tendency of Ecclesiastic Creeds, as Terms of Union and Communion (Lexington, KY: A. T. Skillman & Son, 1844), 835.

[11] Alexander Campbell, “Education,” Millennial Harbinger 1.6 (2nd series; June 1837): 258.

[12] Robert Richardson, The Principles and Objects of the Religious Reformation, Urged by A. Campbell and Others, Briefly Stated and Explained. 2d ed. (Bethany, VA: A. Campbell, 1853), 6–7.

[13] Declaration and Address, p. 4.

[14] Alexander Campbell, “Union of Christians—No. I.,” Millennial Harbinger 3.5 (2nd series; May 1839) 212.

[15] Brad East, “Churches of Christ: Once Catholic, Now Evangelical,” Restoration Quarterly 66, no. 3 (2024): 135-136.

[16] See my “Stone-Campbell Sacramental Theology,” Restoration Quarterly 50, no. 1 (2008) 35-48.

[17] Harrison, “Early Disciples,” 258.

[18] Brad East, “Churches of Christ,” 136.

[19] Alexander Campbell, “A Restoration of the Ancient Order of Things. No. V. Order of Worship,” Christian Baptist 2, no. 12 (July 4, 1825): 164.

[20] Alexander Campbell, “A Restoration of the Ancient Order of Things. No. IV.,” Christian Baptist 2, no. 11 (June 6, 1825): 158.

Click to access Alexander-Campbell-on-the-Nicene-Creed.pdf

Essay on Alexander Campbell’s Rejection of Creeds on the 1700^th Anniversary of the Nicene Creed

Theology Study Group: Stone-Campbell Journal Conference 2025

In a 2024 essay in the Restoration Quarterly, Brad East lamented the loss of catholicity, particularly soteriological ecclesiology and effectual sacramentality, among Churches of Christ within the past fifty years. One recourse, Brad suggested, was to embrace a creedal tradition with a magisterial interpretation of Scripture, or, as he put it, “authoritative documents and authoritative leaders.”[1] There is a grave need, according to East, for an authoritative “Rule of Faith” and “the authority of bishops” in conjunction with Scripture.[2] Without both, as I summarized East’s position, the American Restoration Movement was “doomed from the start,” and while it “may have had a good run,” its “insufficient catholicism killed it.”[3]

Brad spied a “substantive disagreement” with my response to his essay. He is correct. He suggests that if the first four ecumenical creeds are “optional for any local congregation to accept or reject as they see fit, then even their acceptance is an act of self-contradiction.” This is because “tradition without teeth is no tradition at all” since tradition “works only if it commands assent.” If a congregation’s elders come to reject what earlier elders had accepted about the Trinity or Nicaea, how is the “conciliar confession of the Trinity operative, much less authoritative, in” a community?[4] It must be binding on the community over the long haul and norm what the community believes.

I suggest, however, though we embrace the Nicene creed as a healthy tradition, even a true confession of the Triune God, that we hold it as a secondary expression of the primary authority which is Scripture. In other words, the truth of Nicaea depends on the meaning of Scripture and not upon the transmission of tradition or the communal voice of the assembled leaders of the church (the whole church was gathered atNicaea). This perspective coheres with the essence of the Protestant tradition (e.g., Calvin), though it moves away from the classic non-creedal stance of my Stone-Campbell ancestors.

I will explore this suggestion in this brief essay. First, I will unpack Alexander Campbell’s understanding of creeds, particularly the Nicene creed. Second, I will offer some perspectives on the use or non-use of the Nicene creed in our congregations where this strong anti-creedal bias persists as it does among Churches of Christ.

How did Campbell nuance his view of creeds and their function in the church? On the one hand, Campbell did not object to the use of creeds as statements of faith or as summaries of the gospel. For example, Campbell was quite comfortable with the Apostles’ Creed. “I believe every word of it,” he wrote, because “it is not, like all modern creeds, a synopsis of opinions, but a brief narrative of facts, of all the great gospel facts.”[5] Seemingly, he did not have a problem with the Rule of Faith present in Irenaeus, Tertullian, and others in the second and third centuries. It was “generally” the “same topics found in the apostles’ creed.” They were summaries or “synopsis of prominent facts, of which the document called the apostles’ creed is a fair specimen.”[6]

On the other hand, Campbell objected to confessional creeds—ones that do more than recite the great gospel facts—when used as tests of communion or bonds of union because they were but a “synopsis of opinions.” In his debate with N. L. Rice, he provided this definition: “A creed or confession of faith is an ecclesiastic document—the mind and will of some synod or council possessing authority—as a term of communion, by which persons and opinions are to be tested, approbated, or reprobated.” These creeds “became the constitution of churches.”[7] Consequently, creeds functioned as denominational boundaries, and their statements moved from catholic facts to denominational opinions. The multiplicity of creeds expressed the multiplicity of denominations due to the multiplicity of opinions. “Sects,” Campbell believed, “are all founded on opinions, and not of faith” since “every society in Christendom admits the same faith, or builds on the same grand evangelical facts,” but an opinion is only, at best, a “probable inference.”[8] Such confessional creeds, then, became statements of opinion rather than facts and speculative theories rather than narrations of God’s work in Christ by the Spirit.

If creeds remain a statement of the “evangelical facts,” they are useful summaries for the community of faith. But when they are a compendium of metaphysical opinions that function as tests of communion and boundaries of fellowship, they are divisive, or as the debate proposition put it, “necessarily heretical and schismatical.”[9]

Scripture, according to Campbell, is sufficient for the confession of the “evangelical facts.” The language of Scripture is all that is necessary. More specifically, Campbell identified “two grand principles” that testify to the “simplicity of [the] divine constitution of remedial mercy.” They are expressed in Peter’s confession in Matthew 16:16, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” The “two ideas expressed concern the person of the Messiah and his office,” and this confession “is the whole revelation of the mystery of the Christian constitution—the full confession of the Christian faith.” It is “the rock” or “foundation” upon which there can “be unity of faith, of affection, and co-operation; but never, never till then. Every other foundation is sand.”[10]

Campbell believed Ephesians 4:4-6 is an appropriate summary because we make this confession when we are baptized and embody the seven ones that constitute the unity of believers: “one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one body, one spirit, one hope, and one God and Father.”[11] When baptizing a person, Campbell only asks, “do you believe that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, the Son of God?” If they answer yes, he baptizes him. If he denies that Jesus died for his sins or was not raised from the dead, then he does not receive him because he does not believe “the gospel facts in their proper meaning.” [“Proper meaning” raises interesting questions about the sufficiency of the confession itself, however.] Yet, if one makes the good confession, and “so long as [one] loves and honors the Messiah, by keeping his precepts, so long I love and honor” that one as a Christian sibling. “But if any one equivocates on any of these questions of fact, we simply say, he disbelieves the testimony of God.”[12]

How, then, did Campbell view the Nicene Creed? He identified at least three problems with the creed. First, it functioned as a test of communion beyond the language of Scripture. The Creed of the Synod of Nicaea in 325 CE anathematized whoever disagreed with their confession of the nature of the Son. If the Son is “true God from true God, begotten, not made, homoousios with the Father,” then to say the there was a time when the Son was not, or that he came into existence from nothing, or that he is a different substance from the Father, or a mutable creature subject to change, is to deny the faith of “the catholic and apostolic church.” Such a one, the Creed affirms, is “accursed and separated from the church.”[13] As such, according to Campbell, it functioned as “the constitution and test of the true Catholic church, and the divine measure of all orthodoxy.”[14] This entailed separation from the communion table. The creed, with its metaphysical language extraneous to Scripture, became a boundary for table fellowship and was thereby divisive.

Second, it employed metaphysical language. “The difference between Alexander and Arius,” according to Campbell, “arose from the neglect or disregard of the doctrinal statements and facts as revealed in the word of God on the subject of the nature and character of Christ, and by indulging in metaphysical speculations, aided by Clement’s natural religion, without regard to the word.” In Campbell’s view, “both sides of the Arian controversy in the fourth century were wrong, and yet both in some degree were right.” Arians were wrong in denying the glory of Christ though correct in attributing sonship to his incarnation, but Alexander was wrong in attributing sonship to the eternal nature of the Logos though correct in affirming the full deity of the Son. Yet, they both dared “to investigate a subject of such awful import as the modus of divine existence” and “presume[d] to go further in the discovery of God than [God] has revealed.” The disputes ignited a flurry of “technical phraseology” that “produced a scrupulous and systematic cast of diction which is altogether inconsistent with the noble freedom displayed by the inspired penmen.”[15]

Third, it was a conflation of ecclesial and political power. This combination laid the foundation for tyranny and persecution that has played out repeatedly in the history of Christianity. “Each side of the Arian controversy,” for example, “when in power, persecuted the other with the most ruthless sanguinary violence.” But if the original protagonists had “been let alone to enjoy their speculations, with a moderate attention to the word of God,” Campbell speculates, “their differences of opinion would either have done no harm, would have been healed, or would have died with them.”[16] Instead, Constantine gathered the Eastern bishops to “legislate the Arians into the church or out of the empire.”  Ecclesial and political power used the occasion for its own interests. In this sense, the Nicene symbol became the “prototype of all heretical [divisive] creeds,” which tended to the “corruption of the church” and its use of political power.[17] The creed, then, institutionalized a particular way of affirming the dignity and office of Jesus of Nazareth. The boundary became not only theological but political and institutional.

Campbell’s perspective still pre-dominated the early Stone-Campbell Movement and then especially Churches of Christ. The liturgical practices and theological reflection of Churches of Christ gave no significant role to the creed and its language. For example, the early conservative reformer Benjamin Franklin rejected both Unitarianism and Trinitarianism in favor of a simple confession that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.  He cared nothing for the “theories about the Trinity” since “they wrote about a matter which they confessed they could not understand, explained a matter which they confessed could not be explained, and yet required men to believe their theories, on pain of damnation!”[18]

Biblical language was the test for acceptance in the new movement.  The confession that Jesus is the Christ, the son of God was sufficient.  Campbell writes:  “If [a Unitarian or Trinitarian] will ascribe to Jesus all Bible attributes, names, works, and worship, we will not fight with him about scholastic words.”[19]  The “very soul, body and spirit of the gospel…is in the proper answer to the question, What think ye of Christ?” Christian union is found in the “declaration of our faith in the person, mission, and character of Jesus Christ.” [20]  Thus, union rested on the fact that Jesus was the Christ, the son of God.  In the context of swirling Trinitarian and Christological debates, Campbell called for the simplicity of biblical language.

This is how Campbell became relatively comfortable with Stone’s apparent Unitarian and Arian theology. In his debate with Campbell, the Presbyterian Rice pressed the situation with Stone whom he characterized as a “prominent preacher in the same church” as Campbell. Stone taught, according to Rice, that the Son was not eternal but “an exalted creature.” Consequently, there was an “infinite difference between [Campbell’s] faith and that of Mr. Stone.”[21]

In response, Campbell offered two primary perspectives. First, while the Westminster divines of 1648 would “certainly have either cut off his head or hanged him,” the movement has pursued a more “salutary and redeeming policy” of bearing with Stone’s opinions even as, Campbell acknowledges, he did not “approve of all Barton W. Stone has written or said.” Yet, Jesus came to save rather than destroy, he preferred to “save some of those speculators” in expectation that the word of God would prevail. According to Campbell, the speculations of thirty years ago are no longer remembered.[22] And this would have been the case with Arius and Alexander if ecclesial and political power mixed with metaphysical speculation had not sought to force a resolution to the conflict.

Second, after the union of the Stone (“Christians”) and Campbell (“Disciples”) movements in 1832, Campbell believed that the “Christians” had left their opinions behind and had come to affirm the substance of his Christological test.[23]  While Stone had earlier flirted with Arianism,[24] he indicated that uniting with the Reformers meant that he laid aside all his former speculations and spoke only in the “words of inspiration.”[25] Stone acknowledged his debt to Campbell for “expressing the faith of the gospel in the words of revelation.”[26] In his last decade, his Christological statements are replete with biblical phrases without extended speculation as to their ultimate ontology.[27]

Given Campbell’s qualms about creeds and the Nicene Creed in particular, how do his heirs within Churches of Christ respond? Many remain in fundamental agreement with Campbell about the non-use of creeds as a test of communion, and, therefore, they will not embrace the original intent of the Nicene creed itself to draw a line between orthodoxy and heterodoxy (or heresy) or to fence the table based on the confession of the creed.

Perhaps four considerations are pertinent. First, at present, I do not see the practice of reciting the Nicene Creed in most liturgies in Churches of Christ as a feasible option. It certainly cannot be used, as Campbell himself argued, to fence the table and divide the body of Christ. It is neither a test of communion nor a bond of union. Indeed, the language itself is unfamiliar to most people in Churches of Christ. Consequently, its introduction into the liturgy—sacred space for Churches of Christ—is not generally an option. It is too human, too authoritative, and too divisive for that space. It does not and perhaps cannot function as a norm for faith among Churches of Christ. Its introduction would be disorienting.

Second, I think the Apostles’ Creed or the ancient Rule of Faith is more amenable to Churches of Christ. This is for the same reason Campbell saw value in both. These confessions of faith are focused on the narrated facts of the gospel. They are framed by the economic Trinity rather than the immanent Trinity. It is more in tune with the language of the apostles to speak of the Father sending the Son in the power of the Spirit than it is to speak of the Son as homoousios with the Father or true God from true God. The narrative of evangelical facts is what Churches of Christ have sung for decades, and this is familiar language from both hymns and Scripture. Narrative summaries like the Rule of Faith or the Apostles’ Creed rooted in the early centuries and baptismal liturgies are much more acceptable to Churches of Christ than the apparent metaphysics of the Nicene Creed.

Third, while I personally have no problem with the recitation of the Nicene Creed—or the Apostles’ Creed or the Rule of Faith in some form, I suggest a more inclusive approach among Churches of Christ is to embrace a fuller practice of reading Scripture in our assemblies in ways other than a prelude to the sermon.  If we habitually read summary texts or proto-creed texts, and/or employed benedictions and calls to worship derived from Scripture, this would serve a similar function to reciting the Apostles’ Creed or a Rule of Faith. The church could easily read texts like Nehemiah 9, Acts 10:38-43, Romans 1:3-5, 1. Corinthians 15:3-8, Ephesians 1:3-14, or Titus 3:3-8 that narrate the story of God or evangelical facts in Scripture. A consistent diet of rotating texts that summarize the narrative and proclaim the gospel has the potential to shape the community in ways like the Apostles’ Creed or the Rule of Faith, perhaps better than either. Moreover, I would encourage the use of hymns that express the theological depth of the Nicene creed in poetic language.

Fourth, teachers and leaders need to introduce their congregations to the proto-creeds in the New Testament, the Apostles’ Creed, the Rule of Faith, and the Nicene Creed. Before introducing them into their liturgy, the community needs to become acquainted with the history, meaning, and significance of these expressions of ancient faith. Not only would this be an opportunity for theological growth in understanding the faith, but it would also connect the present faith community with the ancient Great Tradition shared by all Christian communities across the world.

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[1] Brad East, “Churches of Christ: Once Catholic, Now Evangelical,” Restoration Quarterly 66, no. 3 (2024): 138.

[2] East, “Churches of Christ,” 136-137.

[3] John Mark Hicks, “Churches of Christ: Always Evangelical, Still Catholic,” Restoration Quarterly 66, no. 3 (2024): 157.

[4] Brad East, “Response to Responses,” Restoration Quarterly 66, no. 3 (2024): 169.

[5] Alexander Campbell, “Reply to Barnabas,” Millennial Harbinger 3, no. 12 (December 1832): 602.

[6] Alexander Campbell, A Debate Between Rev. A. Campbell and Rev. N. L. Rice on the Action, Subject, Design and Administrator of Christian Baptism: also, on the Character of Spiritual Influence in Conversion and Sanctification, and on the Expediency and Tendency of Ecclesiastic Creeds, as Terms of Union and Communion (Lexington, KY: A. T. Skillman & Son, 1844), 760.

[7] Campbell, Debate, 762.

[8] Campbell, Debate, 835.

[9] Campbell, Debate, 759.

[10] Campbell, Debate, 822-3.

[11] Campbell, Debate, 836. Also, Campbell, Debate, 833: “When any man discovers this rock, and is willing to build on it alone; whenever he sees its firmness, its strength, and is willing to place himself upon it for time and for eternity, and on it alone, I say to him—Give me your hand, brother, you must come out and pass through the ceremony of naturalization; you must be born of water as well as of the Spirit, and enter into the new and everlasting covenant; you must assume the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

[12] Campbell, Debate, 811.

[13] “The Creed of the Synod of Nicaea (June 19, 325),” in The Trinitarian Controversy, trans. and ed. By William G. Rusch (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980), 49.

[14] Alexander Campbell, “Christian Union—No. III,” Christian Baptist 3, no. 3 (October 3, 1825): 189.

[15] Campbell, “Christian Union—No. III,” 190.

[16] Campbell, “Christian Union—No. III,” 190. See also Campbell, Debate, 809.

[17] Campbell, Debate, 766-7.

[18]Benjamin Franklin, “Matters of Disagreement,” in Gospel Preacher (Cincinnati, OH: G. W. Rice, 1877), 2:246.  See also his “What Must Men Believe to be Saved?,” Gospel Preacher (Cincinnati, OH: Franklin & Rice, 1869), 1:39-40:  “If a man believes with his heart that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, he has true faith, divine faith, saving faith and there is no other faith through which man can be justified before God.”

[19]Campbell, “Millennium.—No. II,” Millennial Harbinger 1, no. 4 (April 1830): 147.

[20]Campbell, “Union Among Christians,” Millennial Harbinger 3, 3^rd series, no. 4 (April 1846): 222.

[21] Rice, Debate, 829; cf. also p. 853. Alexander Campbell, “Unitarianism as Connected with Christian Union—No. III,” Millennial Harbinger 3, 3^rd series, no. 8 (August 1846): 451, used “Trinitarianism” to describe his own position though he reminded his readers that he was “no advocate of scholastic Trinitarianism.”  

[22] Campbell, Debate, 864-5.

[23]Campbell, “Mr. Broaddus,” Millennial Harbinger 4, no. 1 (January 1833): 9:  “As far as my acquaintance with all the brethren extends, North, South, East, or West, (whatever their former opinions I know not,) they all accord in rendering the same honor in thought, word, and deed to the Son, as they do to the Father who sent him.”

[24]Stone, “The Editor’s remarks on brother H. Cyrus’ letter, No. 2,” Christian Messenger 9, no. 7 (July 1835): 163:  “Arius asserted that Jesus Christ was a created intelligence of the highest order, and Athanasius contended he was begotten, not made…and to this [Athanasius, JMH] have I subscribed long ago, as the most probable.  See my letters to Doc. Blythe.  I acknowledge that much speculation has been used on both sides of the long vexatious question.  I, like many others, have indulged in it; but convinced of its inutility, and bad effects in society, have for several years back relinquished these speculations, and have confined myself to the language of scripture in my public teaching.”  Stone, “Queries,” Christian Messenger 7, no. 5 (May 1833): 139, felt “disposed to use scriptural terms, when speaking on this subject, and therefore call Jesus the Son of God, the only begotten, &c.  I can see nothing in scripture to justify the idea of the Son of God being created, the idea appears too low.”

[25]John Augustus Williams, Life of Elder John Smith; with some account of the Rise and Progress of the Current Reformation (Cincinnati, OH:  R. W. Carroll and Co., 1870), 455. 

[26]Stone, “Reply to Brother John Curd’s Letter,” Christian Messenger 8, no. 8 (August 1834): 239.

[27]For example, Stone, “Letter IV:  To       a Presbyterian Preacher,” Christian Messenger 2, no. 8 (August 1828): 247:  “The doctrine that Jesus Christ is the Son of the Living God, and not the living God himself–that he existed a distinct intelligent being from the Father in heaven before creation, and by whom God created all things–that this being was sent into the world by the Father, not to do his own will, but the will of him that sent him–that he was made flesh and dwelt among us,–that he suffered, died and ascended up where he was before–This doctrine we cannot but believe.”

Topic: The Struggle for the Soul of Churches of Christ (1889-1929)

Participants: Steven Wolfgang, John Mark Hicks, Edward J. Robinson, Shelley Jacobs, Bobby Valentine, Chris Cotten, and C. Leonard Allen.

Time: April 8 (Tuesday) from 8:30am to 4pm.

Place: Hillsboro Church of Christ, Nashville, TN 37204

For more information and registration, click here.

This essay was first published in Why We Stayed: Honesty and Hope in the Churches of Christ (Los Angeles: Keledei Publications, 2018), pp. 103-120.

In the essay, I discuss the emerging differences within Churches in the late 19th and early 20th centuries on (1) rebaptism, (2) female voice in the assembly, and (3) the Holy Spirit.

The 1880s-1930s were characterized by a wild democracy among the emerging churches of Christ, a constant exchange of ideas and disagreements. Yet, the community held much in common and shared a common identity for the most part.

The Common Grounds Unity Podcast hosted Bobby Valentine and myself to discuss our book Kingdom Come: Embracing the Spiritual Legacy of David Lipscomb and James Harding. We discuss the theocentric dynamic nature of Lipscomb (d. 1917) and Harding’s (d. 1922) spirituality. The link for the podcast and the book are in the first comments.

Listen to the Common Grounds Unity Podcast here.

This link downloads a paper I wrote in 2018 for the Stone-Campbell Conference at Johnson University in April, 2018.

The title of the paper is: “God has not kept [the Jews] these many years for nothing”:[1] Alexander Campbell on Israel, the Church, and Eschatology

The quote that heads the paper is:

“The unbelieving Jews were rejected and repudiated as the visible and formal people of God; and the believing Jews and Gentiles, harmonized and united, constituted the visible earthly people and kingdom of Jesus the Christ. Still, the unbelieving Jews exist as a monumental people; and, though no longer the depositories of the Oracles of God, they are, in their present position, the subject of special prophecy and of special promise.”[2]

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[1] Alexander Campbell, “The Millennium—No. V.,” Millennial Harbinger 4^th series 6 (May 1856): 275.

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[2] Alexander Campbell, “Notice of the Jews—Their Land and Destiny. No. I,” Millennial Harbinger 3^rd series 6 (Feb 1849): 88.

Churches of Christ are, gratefully, a people who love the Bible, and I grew up in an era when the church knew the Bible so well. At the same time, we read the Bible in a particular way that is perhaps not as faithful to the Bible as we might have hoped. In this interview, I talk about this.