Confessions Can Circumscribe Power - At Least In Theory
Confessions Can Circumscribe Power - At Least In Theory
July 14, 2011
I am working feverishly this summer on a short book commending creeds and confessions to evangelical friends whose desire to make sure the Bible rules supreme leads them to what I consider a misguided but sincere rejection of such documents in their church life. The book is in many ways a very personal take on the matter, shaped by my own experience of non-confessional and confessional churches.
One of the things that I have come to appreciate about a church with a confession is the mechanism this provides for clear circumscription of the powers of the church, her leadership, and her people. As an elder committed to the Westminster Standards, I am mandated to make sure that the peace and unity of the church where I serve is maintained along lines consistent with the system of doctrine and ethics these documents contain. That gives me certain power, though power that can always be checked in accordance with the Book of Church Order by my fellow elders locally, by presbytery, by general assembly and, of course, by the congregation who called me.
Importantly, therefore, the confession circumscribes the power of the eldership. Thus, I must intervene if I know that a congregant is, say, telling people after the service that the resurrection of Christ never happened. That contradicts the teaching I am sworn to uphold. And if a congregant is engaging in criminal activity, I must not only institute church discipline but must also inform the civil authorities. That contradicts the ethics I am sworn to uphold and also impacts my duties as a member of civic society. Yet if a congregant wishes to spend his spare time dressing up as Elvis, drinking zinfandel spritzers or collecting slugs, I have no power to dictate what he should do, whatever my opinion of the wisdom of such endeavours. More seriously, perhaps, I have no power to dictate where congregants should work, how exactly they should vote, to what schools they should send their children, or how often they should make love to their wives and whether that is with or without contraception. If I try to do any of these things, the congregation have a right - in fact, a duty - to ask on what basis I am acting. After all, they did not sign up for any of that when they saw the confession which my church maintains and thus have good reason to be worried that these things are suddenly on the agenda.
In short, confessionalism, when used not simply as a positive statement of public belief but also as a means of circumscribing church power, has much to commend it.
Of course, the system is not perfect. It can still be abused because it is populated by sinful people who fail all the time. But a system with a clearly laid out confession and a polity that links people and leadership to that confession via a set of checks and balances has much to commend it over against the alternatives. Polity and process are tedious; confessions can seem dry and dusty; but, like multivitamins, they can be very helpful in maintaining a healthy body.
One of the things that I have come to appreciate about a church with a confession is the mechanism this provides for clear circumscription of the powers of the church, her leadership, and her people. As an elder committed to the Westminster Standards, I am mandated to make sure that the peace and unity of the church where I serve is maintained along lines consistent with the system of doctrine and ethics these documents contain. That gives me certain power, though power that can always be checked in accordance with the Book of Church Order by my fellow elders locally, by presbytery, by general assembly and, of course, by the congregation who called me.
Importantly, therefore, the confession circumscribes the power of the eldership. Thus, I must intervene if I know that a congregant is, say, telling people after the service that the resurrection of Christ never happened. That contradicts the teaching I am sworn to uphold. And if a congregant is engaging in criminal activity, I must not only institute church discipline but must also inform the civil authorities. That contradicts the ethics I am sworn to uphold and also impacts my duties as a member of civic society. Yet if a congregant wishes to spend his spare time dressing up as Elvis, drinking zinfandel spritzers or collecting slugs, I have no power to dictate what he should do, whatever my opinion of the wisdom of such endeavours. More seriously, perhaps, I have no power to dictate where congregants should work, how exactly they should vote, to what schools they should send their children, or how often they should make love to their wives and whether that is with or without contraception. If I try to do any of these things, the congregation have a right - in fact, a duty - to ask on what basis I am acting. After all, they did not sign up for any of that when they saw the confession which my church maintains and thus have good reason to be worried that these things are suddenly on the agenda.
In short, confessionalism, when used not simply as a positive statement of public belief but also as a means of circumscribing church power, has much to commend it.
Of course, the system is not perfect. It can still be abused because it is populated by sinful people who fail all the time. But a system with a clearly laid out confession and a polity that links people and leadership to that confession via a set of checks and balances has much to commend it over against the alternatives. Polity and process are tedious; confessions can seem dry and dusty; but, like multivitamins, they can be very helpful in maintaining a healthy body.
