Infants and Sacraments

My recent post on the role of the church in Christian education (link) brought to mind a post from several years ago in which I argued that only baptized persons can be "participants" in corporate worship:

...elders administer discipline to their sons, the visible flock over which they shepherd. If infants are never members of the visible church, then they are never disciplined by elders. You might discipline your son, but just because his friend is around when you do doesn't mean his friend is a "participant" in that discipline. To the extent one wants to speak of someone as a participant in worship and yet without discipline, I think such a person would be an illegitimate child rather than a son (Hebrews 12:7-8). (link)

To develop this further, unbaptized persons are onlookers. They are spectators rather than participants in liturgy. They are not, during corporate worship, authoritatively led, represented, instructed, or disciplined by elders. Just as elders guard the Lord's Supper, so too does baptism fence off participation in worship. Just as the Lord's Supper communicates covenant blessing or judgment, baptism analogously initiates one into either covenant blessing or curse. Sacraments are neither ex opere operato nor ex opere operantis. 

In this way do we see how sacramentology is tied to ecclesiology. Liturgical participants draw near to God. Those who do so in an unworthy manner will be judged more severely than those who do not draw near at all. Judgment begins at the house of God, after all. In a sense, it is for their own protection that unbaptized persons are not counted as participants, although it is obviously not good that they should remain as they are. Insofar as the Lord's Supper is proleptic of the marriage supper of the Lamb, everyone will have to reckon with the [Sabbath] day of the Lord sooner or later.

If Baptists agree - as they should - that unbaptized persons are not, in public worship, authoritatively led, represented, instructed, or disciplined by elders, that has significant implications. If one denies this by affirming that an elder, in his authoritative capacity as an elder, ought, in public worship, to instruct and discipline the unbaptized, I will only say that such a denial appears either 1) misconstrues liturgical duties of an elder or 2) trades on semantic ambiguity: some teaching, admonishment, etc. is proper or particular to an elder, whereas some teaching or admonishment is informal and not exclusive to that which only an elder can offer. 

Considering the second point first, we can say that in one sense, a Baptist elder can "teach" or "admonish" persons who are not members of the visible church (or even the invisible church). But to the extent that all men are needful of spiritual and physical nourishment, all Christians are capable of "teaching" or "admonishing" others by being living testimonies of the light of the gospel. In living such lives, through the work of the Spirit, some needs of all men may be met. Of course, that one has these needs met does not suggest that all his needs are met.

Case in point, what is being spoken of here is not proper or particular to an elder. I would argue that some of man’s spiritual needs can only be met by being members in the visible church. That is, I am not questioning whether Baptist elders are capable of meeting some needs of persons who are not in the visible church, needs that can also be met by laity in non-liturgical settings. Rather, I question whether Baptist elders are capable of meeting specific needs of unbaptized persons, particularly in the context of worship. 

I think a consistent Baptist would agree that Baptist elders can no more meet certain needs of unbaptized persons than a Presbyterian elder could - until the persons in question are baptized. Recognizing this would avoid the semantic ambiguity alluded to above and confirm a distinction in belief regarding ecclesial scope of authority, as Presbyterians baptize infants whom Baptists would not.

Now, given Baptistic thought that believing parents of infants have no obligation to incorporate said infants into the visible church (quite the contrary, in fact), it looks to be a straightforward inference that these infants are not, during worship, authoritatively led, represented, instructed, or disciplined by Baptist elders. And if a Baptist elder would say that he does not authoritatively lead, represent, instruct, or discipline unbaptized persons – if he attempts to be, as I see it, relatively consistent with Baptistic thought – then while one can certainly tell infants (or, for that matter, any unbaptized persons) that they need full, spiritual nourishment, while they remain unbaptized, a Baptist elder cannot be said authority or responsible for their spiritual nourishment.

This leads to another consideration: it seems Baptist elders should leave the extent to which unbaptized, infants are exposed to "teaching," "admonition," "discipline," etc. that is proper and particular to elders to parental discretion. In other words, if parents decided not to bring their infants to public worship until or unless they have made a credible profession, on what grounds could a Baptist elder voice a legitimate problem with that?

I find that most Christian parents want their infants (or unbaptized) children to be present for worship of God. However, the question is whether this intuition can be backed such that a Baptist elder could, consistent with Baptistic principles, morally obligate parents to bring their infants to worship by and in the midst of a visible, covenant community to which the infants do not, on Baptist grounds, "belong." Worship is a time particularly intended for the visible church to draw near to God, whereas the infant is implicitly told by Baptists that he does not belong as a worshipping member to the visible church. 

That I've met with resistance from Baptists on this question indicates to me some tension between Baptistic principles and Baptistic practice. Indeed, one wonders about the implications of the London Baptist Confession XXII.6 when it states, "God is to be worshipped everywhere in spirit and in truth; as in private families daily..." If infants can be counted as worshippers in private families, why not in the visible church? Or if they cannot be so counted as worshippers in private families, are they then not members of the private family worshipping? The tensions compound.

Turning to another argument for infant baptism, on Baptistic thought, ecclesiology and sacramentology don't mirror soteriology. Soteriologically, Reformed Baptists and Presbyterians agree that the Father monergistically elected and regenerates men, both of which [logically] precede the faith of these men - even dispositional faith (on how this importantly relates to infants, see here). Yet ecclesiologically and sacramentally, Baptists invert the order such that mature articulation of faith ought to precede [a holy parent or parents choosing the] baptism of [their] infants. This is odd, as baptism signifies regeneration.

I find Baptistic ecclesiology, sacramentology, and argumentation to be more unfortunately tied to pragmatism. Interestingly, some Baptistic arguments against infant baptism intentionally highlight this inverted order of events as experienced by members of the invisible church compared to those experienced by members in the visible church, arguing on pragmatic grounds that since infants can't remember their baptisms, the baptisms are of no use. Perhaps this is why some Baptists have historically gone further in expecting an articulation of a memorable conversion experience before admittance into the visible church.

In any case, this is like arguing that because one doesn't remember being named at the time of his naming, there is no use in the naming. On the contrary, those who belong in the midst of the visible covenant community just are those who have been named in baptism (Matthew 28:19). Both in the case of my personal naming and in my baptismal naming, testimonial evidence is sufficient for my "knowing" my own name (at least in an externalist sense); I don't need video evidence or to have been conscious during the namings for the namings to have had and continue to have significance. Not only are such pragmatic objections weak, they function to show how Presbyterian ecclesiology and sacramentology align with Presbyterian soteriology and anthropology. On further ways in which "-ologies of places and people at least tend to mirror one another," see here, here, here, and here. 

Finally, there is the objection that anyone who is baptized also should be allowed to partake of the Lord's Supper. In this way, Baptists actually agree with those of the Federal Vision movement like James B. Jordan, the latter of whose arguments for paedocommunion I find more challenging than pragmatic, Baptistic arguments against infant baptism. Jordan's ecclesiology and sacramentology are connected to his understanding of biblical theology. Take the following, which I cannot recall if I found through Jordan himself:

It is well known that the words of the nineteenth Psalm (1-4), mainly on the strength of St. Paul's adaptation of them (Rom. x. 18), have constantly received a spiritual application. The Church is the firmament which shews the handywork of God; in which day transmits to day and night to night in unbroken succession to the end of time, and to all the world, the wondrous story of the glory and grace of God. (Richard Chenevix Trench, Sacred Latin Poetry, pg. 206, link)

Jordan also argues that this symbolism is biblical (link). One enters the firmament-church through baptism just as entrance into the holy place of the tabernacle required passing by the bronze sea and through the veil. Once in the holy place or firmament, there is, before the priest, bread and wine. Bread is food that enables work, whereas wine signifies rest. Bread is protological and wine is eschatological. Thus, an OT tabernacle priest could eat bread but could not drink wine or sit down, for his work was never finished. 

Jordan further argues that bread and wine throughout the Old Testament tends to stand for a contrast between priestly infancy and kingly maturity. The OT was a time during which the people of God could participate in priestly rites but not kingly rest in the throne room; hence, only the high priest entered the holy of holies, he did so only entered once per year, and even then, his work was never finished such that he could enjoy rest. 

For priests to have drank wine at this point in redemptive history would have implied an over-realized eschatology. An over-realized eschatology is an eschatology which counts as having already happened cosmological events which we ought to still anticipate, such as the return of Christ (thus, Jordan argues against hyper-preterism). 

Before Christ, we were collectively as children and required guardians and tutors (Galatians 3-4). Christ, having completed the groundwork for our salvation and eschatological telos, has enabled His priestly people to move forward in redemptive history as we follow the directive of our enthroned King and drink the wine (signifying His blood) that the priests of the OT could not. Each Lord's day, we can enjoy anticipation of consummated, kingly rest in Him, our perfect sacrifice and High Priest. 

Even if we do not agree with Jordan in all the particulars, there does seem to be something to all this. There is a sort of macroecclesiastic, corporate, redemptive-historical progression the church had to experience before members of the church could drink wine. The whole of that which is invisible to us - the elect, the invisible church - are progressively being individually and visibly gathered into one (WCF XXV.I). As this has been and still is being realized in history, there has also been covenantal progression which, in turn, mirrors the sorts of progressions seen, for instance, on the anthropological, physical, or biological level - i.e. children eat bread long before they drink wine. 

In this way, Presbyterians avoid an over-realized ecclesiology, an ecclesiology which counts as having already happened ecclesiological events which we ought to still anticipate. Whereas now, the visible church has been given new privileges in administering sacraments which were not able to be administered under the older administrations of the covenant of grace, there is still more ingathering, maturing, and progressing to do before the members of the visible church are co-extensive with the invisible church, at which point we will enjoy the privilege of feasting with Christ face to face (Matthew 26:29).

Allowing all this, however, I suggest Jordan misses mirrors at the microecclesiastic, individual, soteriological level. We've just spoken of how the visible body collectively progresses and some analogues to it. At the same time, the whole grows only as the individual members who comprise the whole themselves grow. There must be recognized an individual progression in sanctification toward glorification as individuals put to death the deeds of their bodies (Romans 8:13). 

Just as we want to avoid an over-realized eschatology and over-realized ecclesiology, so too we want to avoid an over-realized soteriology, a soteriology which counts as having already happened soteriological events which we ought to still anticipate - such as the complete eradication of the subjective presence of sin. Jordan recognizes this much and argues against perfectionism (link).

...we must hold that indwelling sin remains and cannot be eradicated until the resurrection. Only the penalty of sin has been removed, and no matter what one does, he cannot reach a sinless state of pure fellowship. Whether he perceives it or not, sin is always present. Confession is important, but it is not magical. Certainly God wants man to confess his sin, but not to manipulate or penetrate the secret will of God. To think that confession can accomplish such things implies perfectionism. 

Rather than take this observation and consider analogues which might be found on this level, however, he follows: 

Today, Chafer’s book has tremendous influence in evangelicalism. Campus Crusade for Christ has popularized what Chafer taught in its Holy Spirit booklet, calling it “spiritual breathing.” Many other groups show the effect of this book in their emphasis on introspection. If confession of sin is emphasized apart from the objective worship of the people of God, it is individualized and internalized. Historically, the Christian Church has practiced objective and corporate confession of sin. It helps to prevent that kind of subjective introspection. It should not be overlooked, however, that Chafer’s theology is essentially Anabaptistic and has extended Anabaptist thought. It separates the objective from the subject in the same way Platonic thought did, and is in the final analysis an internalized subjective theology. 

Any retreat into the inner, personal, and subjective world of man takes him away from God’s righteous objective law. Even the scripture memory of the Pharisees and the Antonians obscured the Scripture itself because it was performed in the context of bad theology and practice. A subjective emphasis carries one away from objectivity. Once this happens, man begins to see his sin in terms of himself. As a result his sin disappears because of his own self deception. In other words, he thinks he is perfect, when he may in fact be in deep sin. Putting it another way, break the mirror and the shame disappears. The knowledge of sin comes via the law. All of the perfectionistic movements of history have rejected both a knowledge of the law and the knowledge of sin.

This is strange. Jordan seems to understand that progression is not merely a corporate phenomenon but a subjective, individual one as well, yet he seems to refuse to admit that dimension has a place in one's doctrine of worship. 

For example, Jordan understands that an over-realized physiology is a physiology which counts as having already happened physiological events which we ought to still anticipate, such as unrealistic physical expectations of those whose bodies have not yet sufficiently developed. As such, Jordan argues that youths should not play football:

...we have to agree with the opinion of physicians that football is unhealthy for young men. The Bible tells us, as does medical science, that our physical frames are not fully set and mature until we are around thirty years old. Up until that time, severe physical stress can do considerable damage to our young, developing bones and cartilege. Thus, God said that the Levites had to be between thirty and fifty years old in order to carry the heavy golden furniture of the Tabernacle (Numbers 4; this is also symbolic, since a man should be at least thirty years old before taking church office upon his shoulders.) Physicians complain that football is too risky for high school and college age youth. Many Christian schools have taken this advice seriously, and have turned to other, less dangerous sports. (link).

Likewise, can we not acknowledge subjective, relevant distinctions in worshippers? In fact, mustn't we acknowledge such distinctions in, say, considering who is qualified to function as an elder? I think Jordan conflates macroecclesial and microecclesial levels, leading him to an over-realized sacramentology, a sacramentology which counts as having already happened sacramental events which some ought to still anticipate - such as setting unrealistic spiritual expectations on ones who have not yet sufficiently developed to examine himself and discern the body (1 Corinthians 11:28-29). Jordan's understanding of this passage flattens it to such an extent that the subjectively diverse experiences mentioned in verse 30 become unintelligible.

When Jordan argues for paedocommunion, I think he misses that a progressive dimension exists in sacramentology just as in most other -ologies. He treats as what is now available to the visible covenant community - due to redemptive-historical progression - as being available to each member of the said community. In short, a fallacy of division.

Much more could be said regarding arguments against paedocommunion (or, for that matter, arguments for infant baptism). Here, I've only tried to organize some thoughts I haven't seen discussed much elsewhere. For those interested, I recommend this book and this series, the first video of which provides further biblical-theological reasons against paedocommunion.

Energetic Objections

I came across the Energetic Processions channel recently and took some time to listen to a few videos lodging objections to Protestantism on justification. It's a three and a half hour video, so I'm going to pick on just a few things the Eastern Orthodox panel mention. This originally was a longer post, but I already cut and published certain material in other posts, not all of which I can remember. For one example, though, see Robinson's comments at 52:20 in the video, which I address here and touch on again here).

One of the participants, Cyril Jenkins, says: 

The Bible's not a systematic theology. And systematics kind of has its place, but I would think only long after historical theology and biblical theology have done their work and that's that's not really what Calvinism largely is at all.

Setting aside the Eastern Orthodox professor's presupposition against sola scriptura in his prioritization of historical theology (a point Steve Hays dealt with long ago), fascinating about this is that Seraphim Hamilton - the young man in the video whose debate was being reviewed - self-admittedly owes much of his learning to the Calvinist theologian James B. Jordan, whom Seraphim has described as providing an "ocean of biblical material. It's a kind of a crash course in the whole Bible" (link). It's a shame Seraphim had dipped out of the conversation by this point, or he might have mentioned this to them. 

Likewise, Seraphim has favorably mentioned Peter Leithart's book A House for My Name. I'm probably missing other references, but Meredith Kline, Geerhardus Vos, Warren Gage, G. K. Beale, J. V. Fesko, etc. are a few other leading figures in biblical theology with whom Jenkins might want to become familiar.

Earlier in the discussion, an Eastern Orthodox pastor (De Young) offered the following comment on a lexical argument made by a debate opponent to Seraphim Hamilton on the topic of justification.

One of the the real issues especially with the Reformed approach to this is, as you said, they're going to Greek Lexicon and they're only talking about the New Testament. And a lot of this stuff really falls apart when you get into the Old Testament. And it's not a place where they really want to go, and so as a general future reference, you know, kind of dragging them there... I mean just as one example - as one example - the bit that he would consider Old Testament that's closest in time to the New Testament that talks about justification is Daniel 8:14. And that's where in the Aramaic, Daniel talks about the temple being trampled underfoot for a period of time, at which point the temple will be justified. It's tsadeq in Aramaic, and that is so clearly talking about cleansed, purified, re-established, right? Put back in order right? Any English translation you look at translates it that way.

De Young's intimation is that the justification has an ontological aspect to it along the lines of what EO espouses. Let's compare that to how James B. Jordan translates Daniel 8:14 - And he said to me, "Until evening morning two thousand and three hundred; and a sanctuary will be vindicated." Jordan argues:

The period of time from sometime in 64 A.D. to the destruction of the Temple in A.D. 70 is about seven years, or just short of it. This period fits well with 2300 days, taken literally. During this time, a wicked host of priests performed the Continual, after usurping it from the righteous, from the Chief of chiefs. During this time also, both a (new) sanctuary, the Church, and its host (pastors) were trampled and persecuted in the Great Tribulation. After this time, the new sanctuary (the Church) was vindicated by the destruction of the Temple, Jerusalem, and the apostate Circumcision wherever they were. (The Handwriting on the Wall, pg. 437)

According to Jordan, then, De Young is suggesting the apostate temple order was "cleansed, purified, re-eastablished" when, in fact, it was destroyed (70 A.D.)! In contrast, Jordan's biblical-theological interprets the destruction of the apostate temple (vs. 13) as not only not cleansing or transforming the new, antitypical temple of the church (vs. 14), rather, the former (vs. 13) vindicates the latter (vs. 14).

While Young's Literal Translation of Daniel 8:14 is rather wooden, its translation of וְנִצְדַּ֖ק as "declared right" undercuts the Eastern Orthodox pastor's contention regarding English translations. This is even more ironic in that after he criticized Seraphim's opponent for apparently failing to exegete the proof-texts he offered during the debate, De Young does the very same thing. 

If De Young is willing to attempt to rebut Jordan's interpretation with an interpretation situated within a biblical-theological context, I should like to see it. Note EO apologists are even relying on Jordan - to repeat, a dastardly Calvinist! - to such an extent that they're using their own money to translate his commentaries (link). 

By the way, I mention Jordan so much because I think he could be an important figure in future dialogues, not just with EOs, but with others. I indicated as much four years ago when I mentioned him as only one of two examples (the other being Gordon Clark, of course) of someone worth researching (link) before I discussed how I recommended going about research. He appeals to many people whose faiths differ from his own. Even those who view him as dangerous seem to find some comments of his insightful. 

Moving on, a final comment is on the extreme opposition the EOs in the video have to the idea Reformed believers can have assurance of their own salvation. I'll skip over but note in passing a particularly out of place (and certainly fallacious) reference in the video to deathbed anecdotes as evidence that Calvinists have no assurance. This type of manipulation is not qualified to be called apologetics. 

Here is Robinson at minute mark 2:22:29:

On the reformed view can you know that you're elect? How? There's nothing external that happens in the world that's inconsistent with you being reprobate. There's nothing internal to you in terms of your thoughts or states of your soul that are that's inconsistent with you being reprobate. All of your data is consistent with you being elect or reprobate. There's nothing you can point to - "Oh, I have faith." Well, I can't have your toothache, right? So it's not like I can take my experience of having faith and compare it to your experience of having faith and say, "Ah, see, mine's genuine."

I find this objection very weak. Robinson is suggesting that we need to be able to compare experiences of faith to have assurance of which is genuine. But where did he find that as a criterion of assurance? Why can't I compare my experience to what the definition of faith just is: understanding of, assent to, and trust in the gospel of Jesus Christ? 

Does Robinson think he needs to compare himself to other dental patients to determine if he has a toothache? Did Adam need to ask anyone else if he heard God correctly in Genesis 2? Does Robinson not realize he has just prevented members of his own faith from having assurance? EOs can no more compare their experiences of toothaches than can Reformed believers. Here is what Gordon Clark has to say of Robinson's illustration (link):

Since two people cannot have the same sensation, for my toothache is not yours, two people never sense the same thing. Each person lives in a separate world of his own perceptions. Therefore whatever a man thinks is true, that is true for him, and no one else can judge. This is the theory of relativism, the denial of fixed, eternal truth.

Perhaps Robinson projects his own experience while he believes he was a Calvinist onto Calvinism itself (minute mark 2:11:28ff.). He struggled with assurance, asking himself whether his faith was "great enough" - there are, unfortunately, a minority of Reformed believers who do teach that assurance is of the essence of saving faith, and these men can have the tendency of pushing younger men and women into doubt. See the last link in this post where I specifically refute one such person. Robinson's experience is sad, but it cannot be taken as the marker for what Reformed theology actually is.

Another point Robinson makes involves Calvin (minute mark 2:23:09):

You look at Hebrews 6. What Calvin says there - Calvin says that God actually begins the process of regeneration in the reprobate and then withdraws it so that they feel like they're actually being regenerate and so that they end up falsely believing. Well, let's put aside God's moral character as a question at that point. Let's ask the question of, "Okay how do I discriminate between that situation and mine?" I don't know how Calvinists have any Assurance at all. Zero. Goose egg.

We can set aside the point that Calvin is but one exegete. It isn't necessary to make this observation (see below), so I only do so because I know - but readers might not - that this would just lead to EOs begging the question: "if we don't respect what the [alleged] founder of our religion says, then that says it all about his and your religion itself, huh?" 

It's an escape-hatch EOs (and RCs) use if they can, especially if they see no other way out of a conversation in which they no longer wish to participate: make Calvin to be the straw head of a straw man, call the man "Reformed theology," and chop off Calvin (Luther/Protestantism, etc.). A recipe for frustration on the part of the Reformed believer, unless he is willing to let lies and nonsense go. 

This is often called for and recommended. Knowing for yourself that Reformed theology is based on God's revelation is enough. Not every misrepresentation or bad argument should be responded to. There are better things to do.

Anyway, I believe Robinson is referring to Calvin's comments on verse 4 here:

God indeed favors none but the elect alone with the Spirit of regeneration, and that by this they are distinguished from the reprobate; for they are renewed after his image and receive the earnest of the Spirit in hope of the future inheritance, and by the same Spirit the Gospel is sealed in their hearts. But I cannot admit that all this is any reason why he should not grant the reprobate also some taste of his grace, why he should not irradiate their minds with some sparks of his light, why he should not give them some perception of his goodness, and in some sort engrave his word on their hearts. Otherwise, where would be the temporal faith mentioned by Mark 4:17? There is therefore some knowledge even in the reprobate, which afterwards vanishes away, either because it did not strike roots sufficiently deep, or because it withers, being choked up.

Robinson's argument is epistemic: two people experience different things (regeneration vs. taste of grace), yet they cannot distinguish themselves (regenerate vs. unregenerate). Thus, assurance is impossible. So goes the argument.

Firstly, I missed where Robinson got the idea Calvin says God "begins the process of regeneration in the reprobate and then withdraws it." Calvin's first line seems like a fairly straightforward statement to the contrary.

Secondly, does Calvin consider the reprobate to be believers or unbelievers at the time they taste God's grace? If the former, that would make him Augustinian. That would be inconsistent with Reformed theology and indeed undercut Calvin's ability to be assured (cf. link below)... but it would also in turn undercut Robinson's appeal to Calvin insofar as Robinson would no longer be objecting to Reformed theology. 

Now, if the latter - reprobates are never believers - do they ever believe they are? If not, there is no dilemma. If so, then (just as importantly) what are their epistemic grounds for the belief? We are returned to: do these people understand, assent, and trust in the gospel of Jesus Christ? Since we've assumed they are not believers at this point, the answer is no. So it is just a matter of discerning what they misunderstand or reject about the gospel.

These are questions which can't be skipped over, yet are. This is also where the "toothache" illustration turns out to be handy. It is true that I can never experience someone else's toothache or alleged experience of faith. That just means I can't have [infallible] assurance about their salvation, not mine. It also means I may remain ignorant about just what others are having trouble with when it comes to the gospel. Again, though, that has nothing to do with my faith in the gospel and whether I can be assured.

This might turn us to questions about how someone can know he is not ignorant of what saving faith entails. Having myself written a rather long excursus which preemptively answers most of the objections about assurance in the video and goes more deeply into the doctrine, I'll leave this link for those who want to read more, as we're turning more to the question of what is saving faith and less to whether Reformed assurance is possible.

But I will just remind readers that while we are called to full assurance, such not necessary to be saved. This is not to diminish the importance of assurance, but the author of Hebrews also recognizes a hierarchy of foods, some of which are more foundational to others. Assurance is typically something that comes with maturity in faith, and it can also be lost as well as be found again. 

This is not so on Eastern Orthodoxy. These men must admit that they could apostatize from the faith. Therefore, while they may say they are assured now, they cannot with boldness claim that when Jesus returns, they will be found with him. They note that any "divorce" (apostacy) can only initiated by themselves. Okay, are they that confident about themselves? Minute mark 2:26:31:

I'm in control of whether or not I decide to turn my back on Christ. Again, I'm totally capable of it. I do it in small ways all the time, right? But as long as I keep coming back, I know he's not going to turn his back on me.

"As long as I..." is not comforting to one stuck in sin. This almost comes off as cavalier. In their minds, their wills are decisive in salvation, not God's. I really do find it strange that they brought this topic up when it is so clear that what they offer is not the full assurance to which we are called: 

Colossians 4:12 Epaphras, who is one of you, a servant of Christ Jesus, greets you, always struggling on your behalf in his prayers, that you may stand mature and fully assured in all the will of God.

How to Study a Philosopher or Theologian

A friend asked me to summarize how I have gone about studying the thought and work of Gordon Clark - that is, what methodological approaches have I used (consciously or otherwise) that would I recommend others take when trying to correctly understand, accurately represent and articulate, and/or develop the thought of another theologian, philosopher, etc. The following is a list of what came to mind:

Is the Theologian/Philosopher Worthwhile?

I started reading books by Gordon Clark a little more than a dozen years ago. At the time, I wanted to be confident in how to defend a faith I had been taught from youth and was learning more about in college. I used to seek out discussions or debates with others to fine tune my apologetic thought processes: what do I find to be good arguments? What arguments seemed to ring hollow? Were there areas in which I was not confident?

To make a long story short, prior to my exposure to Gordon Clark, I toyed with the idea that a transcendental argument could prove the "Christian" worldview true. I knew that evidential arguments would not suffice for a strict proof, so I tried testing, usually in discussions and debates with agnostics and atheists, whether a certain feature or features unique to "Christianity" - for example, the Trinity - had to be implicitly accepted (e.g. either for metaphysical or epistemological reasons). If I couldn't do that, then I felt - at the time - that my faith would rest on shaky grounds. I suppose I was thinking like a rationalist.

Typically, at some point in a conversation, the other person I was talking to would acknowledge that they had certain inconsistencies within their own belief systems and would stop conversation. But I was left with the worried feeling that if they simply pointed out that my own, specific views did not follow from the fact that theirs were flawed - or that whatever arguments I was using did not and would not specifically select for my faith - then I would be unable to affirm with certainty that "Christianity" is true. I felt better about having comparative consistency in my beliefs - I was never tempted to abandon my faith - but I wasn't sure how to pacify my uneasiness in being unable to prove "Christianity" was true. 

[I put "Christianity" in quotes because had someone ever stopped to ask me how I knew what "Christianity" - or a unique feature thereof - was, that may have led to me question how I could prove the Bible itself (a canonical collection of specific books and passages) really was God's Word. It was a question I had never considered, so don't know how I would have answered that.]

In 2009, I happened upon the presuppositionalism of Gordon Clark, whose points about the need for first principles allowed me to see that everyone makes assumptions. We cannot "prove" all of our beliefs ad infinitum. I found this convincing, and the way in which the point was presented was so simple, I found myself wanting to read more by him: did he have ideas about how or why some assumptions or presuppositions could be better than others, or how we could defend some to be true and find others to be false? Yes, he did. The more I read, the more I became interested. I doubt I would have kept reading Clark if he had only made that solitary (though important) observation and left readers to figure out any subsequent questions on their own. 

In short, then, I generally liked how he thought, and his writing was personable enough for me to want to continue learning more about what he had to say. I can imagine that another reason one might be attracted to Clark's thought is by having knowledge of the man himself: in all areas of his life, he stood for what he thought was true. If I were to recommend a starting point for others who want to "master" the thought, so to speak, of another person, it would simply be to find a person whose content or life story you enjoy reading about or listening to. 

Alternatively (or additionally), one can study an author so long as one has a defined motivation, goal, or purpose. A long time ago, I read William Young's "The Shack," not because I thought I would particularly enjoy the content, but precisely because I gathered that someone I knew might enjoy the content - content which I gathered contained unorthodox views of Christianity. While I would not have otherwise read the book, it wasn't so much a chore for me to do so because I had a reason for it: to highlight remarks in the book that an unsuspecting reader might overlook and point them out as having dangerous implications. 

Now, while that was just one book, I could extrapolate the principle to an entire collection of works by an author with whom I disagree, and indeed I have done in at least one other case that I can recall. In preparation for the 2012 TrinityFoundation essay contest - contests which were motivation enough for me to begin reading Clark in the first place - I not only read John Robbins' book-length critique of Ayn Rand's so-called Objectivist philosophy, I bought all of her published books and read them myself. I studied her thought, not just Robbins'. 

As penetrating as Robbins' critique may have been, I wanted to make sure, among other things, that it was accurate as well as developed, two other methodological points which served to supplement my motivation and to which I will return below. Would I have had a personal interest in reading Ayn Rand were it not for an essay contest? No. But again, having a specific goal helped the cause: I wanted to write my own critique of Rand simultaneous to reviewing Robbins' book.

One thing I think is important to mention is that all of these authors mentioned thus far wrote as popularizers, which is not meant as a pejorative (just the opposite). Rand and Young wrote fiction for wide readership. Robbins and Clark wrote so that lay Christians - particularly, Reformed Christians - could understand philosophy and its importance. Their works are all relatively inexpensive. I do not know how easy it would be to invest myself in reading an author whose content, price point, or intended audience is rather specialized unless I had a natural interest in the content about which they wrote or specific purpose for reading their work in mind. 

So: do you want to learn about the sorts of things a given philosopher or theologian has to say? Do you have some definite reason for reviewing their work? Do you plan to write a book on them, talk about them with others, or synthesize some of what insight you think they have into your own belief system or life choices? Make sure your study is worth your time. 

Comprehensiveness and Patience

I didn't immediately know that I was going to study Clark as much as I have. It was due to the essay contests put forward by the TrinityFoundation that I was able to acquire some of Clark's relatively more expensive collections without having to spend a lot of money which, as a poor college student, was important. At some point, I decided that because I had already acquired so many of his books, it would be cool to have them all. 

It was convenient to not have to search hard for a bibliography of his works. At the time, the TrinityFoundation had nearly every publication I could find online. For some authors, this is not so easy. Rand only wrote a dozen or so books. Clark wrote around forty, and even though around 300 writings or transcriptions by Clark have been discovered in the past decade, many of these are short and not nearly as dense as other philosophers or theologians. 

For instance, James B. Jordan, whose work I began looking into last year, is a much more prolific writer and speaker: in a festschrift written for him, the bibliography runs approximately 25 Word document pages long, is now out of date by over 10 years, and does not adequately capture the reality that there are nearly over 1700 recordings of him (compared to the perhaps few dozen or so one can find of Clark).

Hence, studying even one philosopher or theologian can require a great deal of patience. Even before a wife and house and real job (and, in the future, kids), it took me a little less than a year to feel like I had thoroughly studied Rand's philosophy, and it took over 3 years for me to grasp Clark's thought before I really felt equal to the task of understanding him well enough to challenge and/or develop his ideas. It will take a long time for me to be able to do that with respect to Jordan. 

The mindset and approach to how one studies is as important as the study itself. Accepting that studying a philosopher or theologian can be a long-term and ongoing process is important to not feel discouraged, especially if it seems you can't quite get a proper perspective of some aspect you feel as though you should. Even now, with the release of many new articles by Clark, I find myself returning to a project (see below) I had thought was essentially complete. But the payoff is mastery, so I advise collecting as much of the person's works as you can in preparation to be thorough, then reading or listening to them once to get a sense of the general thought, and only afterwards setting yourself to the task of "studying," on which see below.

The Actual Study or Research

What helped me as I went through Clark's books after the first read was setting a goal. As I read more, I found that even in books not specifically geared towards epistemology or apologetics - the reasons I began reading him in the first place - Clark would usually make a few comments that would have some bearing on these subjects. Searching for these over time became almost like a scavenger hunt, which was what probably led me to a research project of compiling a list of his quotes relating to epistemology and apologetics. 

After my first read-through of a book, I would go back through it and skim to find and highlight certain sentences or paragraphs which I later intended to transcribe to a Word document. I only looked for statements that I found relevant to epistemology and apologetics. I worked on this for around a year, with the result being some 200+ pages of Clark quotes. I have been compiling further quotes from newly released articles by Clark over the past few years (at a much slower pace than my original project), and this has led to 350+ additional pages of quotes. There are still 30+ longer articles/transcriptions for me to review, and I anticipate 150+ more pages of quotes to include. This addendum to the original project is ongoing and will probably be another several years before completed to my satisfaction (fortunately, these writings are online, so it is not so much transcription as it is editing). Like I said, patience is a necessity.

While repeat reading and transcription probably helped to solidify Clark's thoughts in my mind, I think what helped more was beginning to apply his thinking to conversations I was having and posts I was writing. The research process I described above facilitated that by making it easy for me to search through my compilation for key words as well as reference to where and what the fuller context of those statements were (if I needed to). When someone had or has a question about Clark's views, I haven't had to work from memory: I have a searchable and quotable resource from which I can lead the questioner straight to the source.

For instance, a few years ago, there was a question in Scripturalist circles as to how Clark defined knowledge: as 1) mere true belief or 2) as [so-called] "justified" true belief. I was able to answer the question for a few people by producing multiple quotes in defense of a particular interpretation of Clark's thought (in essence, of the two choices, I believe the latter description more accurately reflects Clark's thought). Similarly, when some refer to Clark as an epistemological coherentist or externalist, I have resource to think otherwise and have argued to that effect.

Or if I have wanted to write a post on Clark's views - for example, regarding a specific apologetic argument from partial knowledge - having a full library of books at my disposal has been important, but parsing those books down into relevant and searchable portions has been indispensable. But if I had finished the project and not applied it to my any conversations or reflections, I don't know that I would have retained the information very well.

Authorial Tension, Openness to Revision, and History vs. Development

No one theologian or philosopher is perfect. In any work or collection of works, there may be errors or lacuna - the latter might even be by design, given the intended scope of a work. Further, like anyone else, philosophers and theologians can change their minds over time. Therefore, those who study them ought to be open to a revised understanding of what they taught. In his late life, Augustine wrote a whole book of reconsiderations in which he outlined points at which he had changed his mind. In the case of some authors, like Clark, new publications or anecdotes by people who knew him can also surface that can also broaden our understanding of his thought. 

Example: I remember listening to Greg Bahnsen say that in a conversation he had with Clark, Clark openly questioned the Westminster Confession's doctrine of assurance (link, minutes 50-52) due to his skepticism (at the time of the conversation) that a person could have self-knowledge. This is an anecdote you won't find in any of Clark's publications, and the anecdote illustrates the importance of reading or listening to other material than who it is being studied. It is an anecdote I have no reason to doubt; on the contrary, given that Clark wrestled with the question of self-knowledge and found himself answering it in affirmative in some publications and in the negative in others, I can easily enough believe the conversation happened as described. 

What then? Well, I affirm self-knowledge and see that Clark did too... sometimes. Such does not entail that Clark did so at all times, and as much as I or others admire Clark, we need to accept that he was sometimes wrong or did not believe everything that we may wish he did. Authorial tension and history are realities. If one finds real authorial tension or certain historical statements by an author frustrating - especially if it is someone one might consider a "hero of the faith" - I think there may be a danger in implicitly treating him as infallible. A mature Christian ought to be able to separate he believes from what an author believed or believes. 

Another example: Clark once wrote, "Science is always false, but often useful." Even when I read that for the first time, it didn't make sense. If two scientists formulate two contradictory hypotheses and, after scientific procedures, come to contradictory conclusions, one must be right and the other must be wrong. Of course, the scientific procedure of the one who is right may or may not enable that scientist to know that his hypothesis is true, but this is a separate question from whether or not the hypothesis of that scientist is itself true. So many admirers of Clark can't seem to grasp that Clark simply blundered at this point. I suspect Clark intended to say something to the effect of "Science cannot enable us to know truth." But since that isn't what he wrote at this point, the reader has to address the content of the statement as it is: false.

With that said, one can and should, as Bahnsen was, be charitable about disagreement. We can, like Bahnsen did, speculate that Clark perhaps intended something other than the face-value of the statements he made. Even when the disagreement is real and substantial, one can be kind while delivering a rebuke or rebuttal. 

But in order to improve or develop an author's thought - whether towards truth or the application of the thought to other contexts than those the author addressed - one must first have an accurate understanding of the thought as the author himself expresses it. If disagreement exists, it has to be recognized and confronted so that a better view can be proposed. This is best done only after having as full an understanding of an author's reasons for disagreement as possible, as one can then argue the contrary more effectively... or, perhaps, allow that the author's reasoning is sound and change his own mind! Either way, reading or listening to others about the same subject matter as the author being studied will tend to provide needed balance.

Summary

Have a purpose for your study.

Own all the person's works (or as many as possible).

Read and/or listen to the person normally, then skim/highlight with intention.

Consider transcribing/editing quotes of interest for use in conversation, reflective writing, etc.

Accept the possibility of tension within the author's own thought, but be charitable.

Be open to revision.

Differentiate between what the author believed or believes and what you yourself believe.

Think about how to improve the author's thought, whether towards truth or comprehensiveness.

Read other material.

Be patient, and enjoy the study.

Mirror Images: The City as a Biblical Paradigm of Eschatological Escalation

Before our most recent podcast on localism, my friends and I were discussing the theology of location as a lacuna within Reformed theology that could use supplementation or systematic treatment. While writing about that subject seems better suited to some of my friends, it prompted one of them to ask me to put down what was, in nascent form at the time, a few thoughts in which I tried to outline an eschatological escalation of and towards “city.”

To give context to where this thinking stemmed from, as I was learning about localism, which was mentioned in a different book we had recently reviewed, I wanted to make sure that one of my friends who is an advocate for localism and is moving to a more rural area wasn’t becoming a “romantic agrarian.” After all, while the people of God began by being planted in a garden, the people of God end in and as a city (Revelation 21-22). Of course, that begs a whole host of questions such as what a city looks like, but as my friend was level-headed in his answer to my concern, my thoughts trended towards a different direction: what do we read about cities in Scripture?

In Genesis, the first cities explicitly mentioned are cities of men: Cain's city, the tower of Babel, Sodom and Gomorrah, and Zoar where Lot slept with his daughters. This is not a particularly great start in our understanding of how city life can be good!

The next cities mentioned, however, are patriarchal and convert nations: Ephron (in which peoples blessed Abraham and gifted him with land for a burial site), Nahor (in which kin blessed Abraham and Isaac with the gift of Rebekah), Beersheba (the first city founded by a patriarch – in particular, the son of promise, Isaac – in which Isaac covenanted with Abimelech, had a peace meal with people who had previously persecuted him, and drew water), and Bethel (Jacob's mediatorial ladder). We begin to see major typological and redemptive themes associated with cities.

The next mention of cities returns to those of men: Shechem (in which the Dinah is defiled by a prince and Jacob’s sons literally apply circumcision-death to people with whom they had covenanted; surrounding cities become terrified as Jacob and his sons experience an exodus from Shechem to the house of God in Bethel, cf. Genesis 34:30 and Exodus 5:21) and 3 Edomite cities I don't know much about (Dinhalah, Avith, Pau).

Finally, Pharaoh and his cities (plural) of Egypt convert under the ascension of Joseph, and Israel is blessed and reciprocally blesses Pharaoh.

Genesis events – the patriarchal ones in particular – were later meant to be a template for the Israelites (especially their leaders) to know how to act. Learn from history. Will you be a spiritual city of refuge for the nations or spiritual Babel, Sodom, and Egypt? We now know how that eventually turned out. The same message now applies to visible churches.

With this backdrop in mind, in James B. Jordan's Crisis, Opportunity, and the Christian Future, he writes a chapter about “The Three Fundamental Cultures” that followed the giving of the Decalogue, listed here and described with examples in my own words:

The Age of Tribes – tribal, priestly, period of the judges

The Age of Nations (or Cities) – national, kingly, period of the kings

The Cosmopolitan Age – imperial, prophetic, period of the emperors

Reflection on this chapter, scattered statements he has made elsewhere, and study on my own led me to see an eschatological escalation of the city theme throughout Scripture. The following is an outline of what I have in mind:

In the patriarchal era after which Israel's history was patterned, we first see God scatter the nations at Babel, one of the first cities mentioned in the Bible, because He would not allow a centralization of false worship. Out of this event came the temporary distinction between a nation of priests (Hebrews/Israelites/Jews) and those who were not, an event which catalyzes the cultural periods Jordan alludes to above. The resulting multitude of nations was good, not bad (see this podcast discussion), and these local-cultural distinctions will remain (Revelation 7:9), but conflated with the Babel-event is a judgment which led to exodus.

[...and parenthetically, perhaps this always happens: the first, divine judgments follow divine separations (exoduses?), all of which eschatologically resolve in our experiencing exoduses from darkness and waters of judgment. When does the first exodus occur? Not in the book of Exodus! That isn’t even the first (or second!) exodus from Egypt in particular that we read in Scripture. I think it possible that one can find exoduses as early as Genesis 1, and earlier than Jordan himself proposes: the day/night distinction will resolve on the Day of the Lord, the firmament distinction will resolve in a baptism by fire – just as there was a Noahic baptism by water – as heaven descends upon earth, and the water/land distinction will become land only, as there will be no more sea; Revelation 21:1, 25). Creation itself might be an exodus – it is some kind of ontological change from what could have been, at least. When we become new creations, we have certainly experienced an exodus. This is a bit speculative and tangential on my part, but interesting to consider. One danger to watch out for would be pantheism, as the Creator-creature distinction will always remain. If creation was an exodus in that Creator and creature are separated, it is the only one that doesn't resolve.]

Regardless, there are plenty of exoduses in Genesis – particularly in the patriarchal narratives, which directly follow the Babel narrative – and Israel's history recapitulates these patriarchal events, from which they do not learn many lessons. Besides the example of Jacob in Shechem that I mentioned above: Abraham and Isaac are faithful throughout their exoduses from Egypt, whereas Israel was falsely worshipping (Joshua 24:14) and required salvation from God’s plagues. They are more like Lot’s wife during and after their exodus from Sodom and Gomorrah – barely out of Egypt before crying out against Moses (and, thus, God) that they wish they had never left – than they are like Hagar and Isaac, who wandered in a wilderness and cry out to God for salvation. Abraham and Isaac wandered before the latter, the son of promise, established the first patriarchal city, Beersheba, with its waters of healing and feast of peace between covenanted peoples. Israel wanders like the patriarchs did before finally establishing cities in the promised land to which Gentiles come and convert (prophetically, cf. Exodus 15-18)... before they fall again and again, resulting in the desolation of the tabernacle, 1st temple, and 2nd temple. Etc.

Israel is scattered from Egypt to be priests to the nations, because Egypt became a new Babel. Like Babel, the scattering was again due to the false worship in the city (by both nation-peoples), for which the city was to be judged. Judgment again led to exodus. Furthermore, I think Egypt is the first biblical instance in which we explicitly see a land that has cities (plural) over which one person, pharaoh, ruled. This is kingly, if not imperial (as I might argue), and an escalation in the Babel pattern. History typologically spirals, not exactly repeats. The history in Genesis foreshadows the rest of biblical history, with Israel’s history being next, so the escalating pattern of city judgment, exodus-scattering, and new creation should and does appear in Israel's history. 

There are quite a few examples in Israel's history that are worth mentioning in a more exploratory post on this subject, but the eventual scenario of multiple cities over which a Davidic king rules is perhaps on the same scale as Egypt in one sense, perhaps on a larger scale in another sense (given more distinctive local communities and a wider sphere of influence), and perhaps less in another sense (pharaoh ruled over both priestly and non-priestly peoples). I could include the tabernacle-temple escalation as a microcosmic escalation of what we see playing out geographically. As before, though, syncretism leads to false worship (in both tabernacle and temple, by both priests and kings), Israel becomes a new Babel, judgment led to exodus, and the Israelites are exiled in one sense – and yet, although scattered, God promises to be with them as they continue their priestly ministry among the nations of the Babylonian empire.

During the prophetic period of Daniel et al., the Jews eventually return to rebuild the temple at the behest of emperor Cyrus, a king who disarms other kings (Isaiah 45:1, Ezra 6). Israel’s history reaches an escalated climax in proportion to the climax of the patriarchal narratives in Genesis. Their sphere of influence is pervasive in the biblical oikouménē until they reject the true King of the cosmos, Yahweh, in Acts. Jesus came as the Cosmic Man, recapitulating the events of the patriarchs and Israel as the true Israel and Son of God, antitype of these types. He passed the wilderness wanderings (it seems to me He wanders throughout most of the gospels), eventually establishing Himself as the City of Refuge, the resurrected third and true Temple-City, Head of the new body-politic of believers in which Jews and Gentiles were finally one house. Jerusalem became Babel when they rejected this City for their own, judgment led to exodus, and believers in Christ were scattered among the nations, a true priestly people and truly adopted sons of the Spirit. Now on an escalated, world-wide scale, this will lead to peoples from all nations converting.

The escalating pattern of scattering should and does appear in church history, since we are united with Him. The cherubim firmament-guarders of the sanctuaries (Eden, Sinai, tabernacle, temple, heaven) have been succeeded by the church, since while we were in infancy under angelic tutors, we are now united with Christ who has been exalted above them. The flaming sword and duty of the cherubim have been passed to the church. The church appeals to God’s word-Word to mediate the new covenant, guarding His sanctuary from within (excommunication) as well as at the gates (sacrament), a priestly firmament in which people are cut off or cut in, so to speak.

So when, like the leaders of Israel, the visible church compromises its power to bind and loose, the visible manifestation of God’s kingdom on earth ebbs until it flows; the difference between Israel and the church, I think, is that in our case, the power of Christ will flow through the Spirit to we who are truly united with Him. It isn’t a matter of if (cf. discussion of Daniel 2 below). I recall that Jordan somewhere mentions the tabernacle is emblematic of a man, with its innermost regions (most holy place), stomach (holy place), and feet (pillars) – or something like that. Just as individually, we experience our own exodus from sin and ebbs and flows as we escalate in sanctification towards being glorified temple-bodies of the Holy Spirit, corporately, we see the same in the church. 

[As an aside, this means that I disagree with Jordan’s view of the relation between good works and final justification, his view of the conditional perseverance of those united to Christ, etc. Like Jordan, I do believe ecclesiology, anthropology, and soteriology are tied together (a point to which I will return below). But not all Israel is of Israel, and not all the church is of the Church. I think that the visible-invisible church distinction is sufficient to explain visible ebbs in the manifestation of God’s kingdom. It just takes time for Christ's true body to fully mature in worship and practice, cutting off infectious sources (false members), just as it takes a man time to mature in worship and practice, cutting off sin.]

The next time a kingdom is shaken and a death-resurrection and exodus scattering event occurs, it will be the last, and on a cosmic scale, a crescendo in the escalation in geographic manifestation of God’s king-domain on earth as in heaven – heaven on earth. God’s enemies rather than His people will be finally scattered; in fact, His people will assemble together. Judgment will lead to death, resurrection, and exodus one last time, with true worship being established forever in the resolving of creation judgments alluded to earlier.

Returning to Jordan's "Three Fundamental Cultures": remembering that this pattern was meant to depict a time after the giving of the Law (Israelite history), and given that Israelite history is particularly patterned after patriarchal history, the principle of city judgment, exodus-scattering, and new creation, may not capture but does also apply, for example, to Cain's prediluvian city. Cities which have forsaken God will always be judged, and the remnant of God's people (if such there be) will experience exodus from the city. In Noah's time, the whole earth became the city of man, and judgment led to exodus, this time with Noah being replanted, as it were, as a new Adam in a garden-city, commanded to be fruitful and multiply. This leads me to consider the ark of Noah as a city of refuge, with the ark's door as the gate of entrance. From reading I've done in the past, I am convinced it was a protological temple and microcosm of the universe. Antitypically, Christ is our Temple-City now, our Ark-Gate-Door, the Cosmic Man in whom we will survive the coming baptism by fire and be planted in the eschatological garden-city of Revelation 21-22. There is more to Peter's description of the Noahic flood as the end of an epoch that will be matched by the baptism by fire to come than meets the eye (2 Peter 3).

Now, one of my friends on the podcast pointed out that Eden was to become the glorified city of Revelation 21-22 (compare the tree and river imagery in both settings, for example). Thus, the garden is a prototypical city. I recalled that was to happen by Adam's adornment of it with jewels from Havilah - the eschatological end on Adam wasn't somewhere "out there," although he was called to engage in the public domain to glorify the sanctuary. Eden is the first city. When Adam sinned, judgment led to exodus, and humanity was scattered across the face of the earth, awaiting the new creation through the second Adam, whose work tore the temple veil and enabled return access to the sanctuary-city that true churches now enjoy fellowship with in worship.

What is true macrocosmically is true microcosmically: we are called trees in Scripture. Upon conversion, we become temple-houses of the Holy Spirit, the beginning of a sanctifying process of killing sin that ends in city-glorification: adorned, bejeweled, and given robes of glory in being united with Christ. Our eschatological end isn't some "out-of-body" spirit a la gnosticism, although our sanctification of our individual (and corporate) sanctuary-bodies is likewise not [only] found by inward reflection or contemplation but by working out our salvation with fear and trembling in the real world. And as we engage in the real world, different people bring back different jewels with which to adorn the temple: localism and distinctiveness of nation-peoples is preserved even as we are all united in the sanctuary. As the land of Eden was to be adorned – as was the later tabernacle and temple – with gold (etc.), the heavenly Jerusalem will be adorned with us. 

One final picture of this I will present here is the mountain theme. Mountains are constantly depicted as places of God’s presence: His city in which He is enthroned. Eden, Sinai, Zion, and so forth. Mountains are also temples, locations of sacrifice; hence, altars were miniature mountains. We, as living sacrifices, come to the true Mount Zion, the city of the living God (Hebrews 12:22). United to Christ, we are also mountains, living stones built upon the Chief Cornerstone of the Rock of Christ, the builder of His house-church. So when Daniel 2 mentions an uncut stone that grows to become a great mountain and smashes the false body-politic/temple/idolatrous worship – true worship[pers] triumphs over false worsip[pers] – it simultaneously pictures the city-people-worship of God as simultaneously growing to encompass the whole cosmos, scattering God's enemies to establish His kingdom and throne (cf. various parables like the mustard seed, which grows to become a tree of refuge to the nations-birds).

I find that an implication of this excursus is that Christology, anthopology, ecclesiology, sociology, cosmology, and other -ologies of places and people at least tend to mirror one another from first things to last things, from the protological to eschatological. Actions of God and man – soteriological ones, yes, but also pre-redemptive historical actions such as doxology, liturgy, faith, obedience, etc. – are the means by which this glorification from first to last takes place. And, I suppose, Trinitarianism is at root. After all, the chief end of man is the glory-exaltation of God.

There's clearly a lot more than could be fleshed out here, but I leave it to the reader's consideration for now.