Of What Advantage is Baptism [for Infants]?

Much in every way. Firstly, I think a good way to frame the question is in terms of advantages and privileges, for baptism does not always communicate or indicate grace. No one ought to question that the world aside from Noah's family, Pharaoh's army, or unbelievers at the parousia were or will be fearfully judged, for example. Baptism can point to this eschatological reality as well as to blessed salvation. Likewise, one baptized into the visible body of the covenant community is privileged to be a member of it - properly able to be instructed and disciplined by elders-fathers, as I will return to below - though not without warning should they rebel and fall away (Hebrews 6:4-8, 10:26-31).

Anthropologically, soteriologically, and ecclesiologically, we are (or can be) newly born into households. Only those born into these houses are, properly speaking, discipled and disciplined by the fathers of said houses. Only sons and daughters consistently receive fatherly instruction, training, and correction. The potential blessings should be obvious. But this too means judgment must begin at the house of God - since, a fortiori, it is obvious what judgment befalls those who are not members of the house (1 Peter 4:17-18). Now, we know sons and daughters can rebel against fatherly authority. But such cases, as heartbreaking as they are, does not mean there is no reason for sons and daughters to have been in a position to receive instruction and discipline in the first place. At the very least, it must cause sober reflection upon our own relative births and positions into the various, divinely appointed households. But we must remember that all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose, not all without exception.

Or, to put the point another way. In addition to the anthropological, ecclesiological, and soteriological households, we can consider the cosmological household of God of which we are all a part, believer and unbeliever alike. Nature has a way of instructing and disciplining men (Romans 1:18-32), because we are all God's offspring (Acts 17:29), His image, in His macrocosmic house of creation (Genesis 1). This too comes with its own advantages and privileges, for life is good.

However, it might be a bit difficult to understand, from a bird-eye view of the reprobate, how he has been divinely favored by the rain and sunshine God sends and makes (Matthew 5:45). That is, should we view such as grace? Gordon Clark thought we could:

One theologian argues that the gospel is both a savor of life unto life and also a savor of death unto death. To the reprobate the preaching of the gospel is no favor because as it increases their knowledge, it increases their responsibility and condemnation. Better if they had never heard the gospel. One can reply, nonetheless, that in some cases the preaching of the gospel may restrain an evil man from some of his evil ways. Since therefore sins are not all equal, and since some are punished with many stripes, but others with few, the preaching of the gospel results in the lessening of the punishment. Thus preaching would be a small favor, a modicum of grace. (link)

I am less sure. We could regard it as an advantage or privilege for anyone who already exists and sins to not be immediately cut off from his sinful life, and to that extent what Clark says above can hold true. It is, likewise, certainly a privilege to have once been enlightened, tasted the heavenly gift, have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come. Perhaps this restrains one from committing as much evil as he would otherwise have done. Yet it seems to me that the privileges of these new births which even reprobates can experience must be balanced against the strong language of, for example, Mark 14:21 - spoken of one who was a disciple of Christ (how much more advantage or privilege towards a sinner can one conceived?) - and that baptism can be unto fearful judgment. To whom much is given, much is expected (Luke 12:47-48). If one tramples underfoot the advantages and privileges of God, it would be better for that man if he had not been born.

Nevertheless, this bird's eye view is not available to us. We can only speak in regards to what we know, and what we know is that one is advantaged or privileged to hear the gospel, for one can only please God and be at peace with Him through justification by faith, and faith can only come by hearing the gospel. We cannot know, in this lifetime, who will hear and reject the gospel, and it is far beyond our purview to presume upon who will or won't heed its call. Much less are we able to determine whether, even if it is rejected, it may yet be beneficial to the extent that those who hear and reject it sin less and are punished less severely as a result. Similarly, we may consider the case of baptism to be a privilege and advantage, if not necessarily a means of grace, even in the case that it leads to negative judgment.

Suppose instead that our infants are only welcome to church meetings to the extent that other unbelievers are. In the first place, we should probably think harder than we do before inviting open unbelievers to what is supposed to be a family communion with and worship of God rather than an evangelistic outreach. What is the goal? Unbelievers should normally find our worship strange and alien because in it, we draw near to God (precisely where they usually don't want to be).

But is this normally how our infants grow to view our assembling to worship? They may, of course, have questions of the worship service (Exodus 12:24-27), but do they normally shrink back as we draw near to God and He to His church? Are not our children participants in corporate worship? If not, I do not see how church can even be considered a foster home to unbaptized children. Rather, it looks as though these children get (have?) to visit a family not their own once a week without participating in the corporate life of it then and there, much less throughout the rest of the week.

On the other hand, if they are participants, fathers discipline sons. Likewise, 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).

The same could be said regarding instruction. Fathers are to instruct their children (Ephesians 6:4). The elder instructs his sons, the visible flock, in worship. But if infants are never members of the visible church, then they are never instructed by elders. You might instruct your son, but just because his friend is around when you do doesn't mean his friend is a "participant" in that instruction.

Whether or not your son rebels against your discipline and instruction is a separate question. But it is without question he is a legitimate son of yours because of how you behave towards him. Likewise in regards to God towards His elect sons and the elders towards their sons-flocks.

One final question that bears pastoral reflection: if infants are not treated as sons, how will they come to think about the church? Frankly, as a child, I would have felt awkward and out of place in the presence of my friend being instructed or disciplined by his father. I would be viewing an internal family matter as an outsider. To say in the first place that infants cannot be participants in worship - that they are presumed to be outsiders - then, would naturally seem to lead them to doubt, uncertainty, or anguish. Being cognizant of the manner in which we, as the visible church, treat our children from birth as well as how they grow to perceive themselves in virtue of our treatment is easier said than done, especially if some of us actually view them as looking in from the outside of God's visible household.

A New Master, A New Father

The new life in which we can walk (Romans 6:4) as new creatures, slaves to God and righteousness, in turn presupposes being set free from slavery to sin (6:18). Thanks be to God for that (6:17), because it is He, not we, who made such both possible and actual through the work of His Son. How have we been set free from sin? We have been crucified with Christ and raised with Him (6:5). His death and resurrection have defeated sin (6:9-11), and only by being united with the righteous Messiah by grace, through faith, and in His Spirit, are we now able to obey and do good works as slaves to a new and infinitely better Master. In short, our justification precedes our sanctification, and as we are united to the Son who is Lord over all facets of our salvation, we will experience all facets. As facets of our salvation, sanctification and eternal life are fruits of a life of slavery to God, of obedience and good works. Thus, the latter necessarily follow the former, although they do not function as the meritorious ground for such ends.

So being under grace rather than law does not mean we should live lawlessly (6:15). We should present our members or persons as slaves to righteousness – which implies obedience (6:16) to some standard or law – and if we do not, we are living a life which has not been set free from sin, a lawless life which ironically keeps us under “the law” and its demand for sinless perfection. Just as union with Christ pervades the life of believers, union with sin pervades the life of unbelievers. Practicing sin evidences a life which has not been freed from sin (John 8:34). A life of practiced love for the greatest and second greatest commandments is a life that fulfills the law (Romans 13:8-10) and can do so precisely because it is not attempting to be justified by it – to live under it.

Now, while Paul speaks in “human terms” (6:19) when he talks about our slavery, it is also clear that he also considers us free. To be a slave to one master is to be free from another. When we are slaves to sin, we are free from righteousness (Romans 6:20). Is that the sort of freedom we want? Paul speaks of our slavery as either to sin, leading to death, or to God, leading to eternal life (6:16). To which of these ends does pretending to be our own, “free” masters lead?

We should then endeavor to be free from sin just as we were free from righteousness, for this freedom is deeper. Elsewhere, both Paul and Jesus contrast slavery to sin with freedom in sonship:

John 8:34-36 Jesus answered them, Truly, truly, I say to you, everyone who practices sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son remains forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

Galatians 4:21-26 Tell me, you who desire to be under the law, do you not listen to the law? For it is written that Abraham had two sons, one by a slave woman and one by a free woman. But the son of the slave was born according to the flesh, while the son of the free woman was born through promise. Now this may be interpreted allegorically: these women are two covenants. One is from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery; she is Hagar. Now Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia; she corresponds to the present Jerusalem, for she is in slavery with her children. But the Jerusalem above is free, and she is our mother.

So in Romans 6, slavery to God and righteousness corresponds to sonship. As slaves to God, we are sons of God, and our sonship gives us an inheritance (Galatians 4:30) that slavery to sin and sonship to the devil (John 8:44) cannot. Our new life of “slavery” is not only freedom from sin but also the freedom of a gifted promise (Romans 6:23), because our new Master is really a new Father. Or, in divine rather than human terms:

Galatians 4:7 So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.

The Right Question

As I was thinking about my most recent post on supralapsarianism, I was struck by the idea that it is too often the case that Christians respond to the constant barrage of “why” questions relating to God’s purpose in determining any event by presupposing the legitimacy of the question. I catch myself sometimes asking these questions – why this difficulty? why now? – and proceeding to speculate as to various reasons God would decree such. There is, in truth, only one reason anything happens, one reason for God’s decrees: to the furtherance of the manifestation of His glory.

Although I am certainly not an authority on pastoral theology, I can imagine that many pastors fail to address the semantic error inherent in these questions they so often face. I say they “fail” because it really is a failure when an opportunity is missed to change the whole framework from which questions spring. If someone would only tell a person struggling with answers pertaining to meaning in life that he is asking the wrong questions – if it is only kept in mind that God’s ultimate purpose in all things is the manifestation of His glory – his attention can properly shift to the right questions asked with a proper mindset: a mindset of understanding rather than interrogation, one which asks, not “why,” but “how” a given thing can function as a proximate means unto this ultimate purpose. Any “why” question relating to God’s proximate purpose(s) can actually be resolved into “how” questions relating to God’s ultimate purpose, and reflection upon this point will prove that it is not inconsiderable.

Scripturalism and Dialogue

Continuing with the examination of questions I am most often asked upon an explanation of my epistemological beliefs (see here and here), sometimes the questions are phrased in a question begging manner. For instance, when I explain that I reject empiricism, I am often asked why I even dialogue with people. After all, if I don't think the use of the senses are valid bases for justifying knowledge claims, what's the point? For all I know, I could be talking to a tree. Is the concept of dialogue the straw that breaks the Scripturalist's back? 

Firstly, as is fast becoming my motto: "every epistemological system stands or falls on the merits of its first principle[s]; thus, an argument against a first principle should be a reductio ad absurdem." At best, then, the above criticism merely shows me to be inconsistent in practice. In itself, the question doesn't imply anything about the first principle of Scripturalism. 

More importantly, however, the question is phrased in such a way as though it should be obvious that I am in dialogue, as though the idea I'm talking to a person is a brute fact. This is not so. If this claim is to have any force, the objector must explain the means by which he can [justifiably] know he is talking to me, and this inevitably fails. 

But how, then, is one to account for the Scripturalist's behavior? If I cannot know that I am in dialogue, why can it seem that way? If I am going to be consistent with Scripturalism, I must indeed admit I am opining any conversation; however - and this is the point - the purpose of epistemology is not so much a justification of one's beliefs to others as it is to oneself. Self-realized problems with various epistemologies or one's own epistemology may be introduced through the medium of opinion; I was reminded, for instance, of the issue of the canon when I opined a "C"atholic asked me about it (see above link). When one considers that one's opinions are the ultimate products of God, and that God causes everything for a reason, it is not surprising that Scripturalists should venture into alleged communication: to measure what is opined against God's word. Hence, when a question comes to mind through the medium of alleged dialogue, as was the case with the canon, I returned to God's word to answer the question, a question which, even if a "C"atholic did not ask me, still enabled me to grow in grace and knowledge of God, enabling me to glorify in His sufficiency all the more. And that is the chief end of man, is it not?

Gordon Clark's "Predestination" - Part 3

The Eternal Decree and its Execution

For God to know a given proposition is true apart from His own determination would necessitate a succession of thoughts in the mind of God, as God’s knowledge would be contingent on contingencies (viz. His creation). Such would deny His eternal omniscience; hence, God’s determination of all things is the only position consistent with His eternal omniscience. In fact, Scripture affirms that God causes all things [according to His good pleasure] (cf. Job 23:13-14; Psalm 115:3, 135:6; Isaiah 46:10-11; Lamentations 3:38; Daniel 4:35; Ephesians 1:11). He is active in effecting that which He desires, and everything that occurs is so according to His desire. While God can use instrumentalities or “second causes” to achieve His purposes as well as direct efficiency, the ultimate or first cause of all things stems from God’s direct, efficient, and determinative purpose. The extent of God’s proactive determination is borne out in specific cases as well as general testimony (cf. Deuteronomy 2:30; 1 Kings 22:19-23; Psalm 105:25; Isaiah 10:5-15, 19:17; Acts 2:23, 4:27-28).

Gordon Clark's "Predestination" - Part 2

Omniscience

As predestination involves intention, and as the success of one’s intention is limited to one’s extent of knowledge, predestination is possible only to the extent that God knows His intentions can be fulfilled and that the particulars relevant to that which He is predestining will not deviate from His plan. The doctrines of creation, omnipresence, and providence establish God’s omniscience (cf. Psalm 139, 147:5; Jeremiah 23:24; Matthew 6:32; John 2:24-25, 21:17; Acts 17:24-28). Furthermore, as God is eternal (cf. Psalm 90:2; Isaiah 57:15; 1 Timothy 1:17) and unchanging (cf. Numbers 23:19; Malachi 3:6; James 1:17), God’s knowledge is eternal (cf. 1 Corinthians 2:11; Acts 15:18); that is, God does not learn (cf. Isaiah 40:13-14). He knows what is impossible (cf. Titus 1:2). He even knows counterfactuals (cf. Matthew 11:21) – knowing counterfactuals as such would be analogous to knowing that changing a variable in a given equation would yield a different answer than the given equation. God is infinitely knowledgeable, as to know even one thing presupposes that the validity of the proposition is not contingent on the truth of [infinitely many] other propositions. That God eternally knows that the purposes of His decrees – predicated on His good pleasure – will be effected (cf. Isaiah 46:10-11) also implies He must know that the means by which His decrees come to fruition will not thwart His decrees (cf. Isaiah 14:24-27; Romans 9:19); if God did not know all things eternally – proximate means as well respective ends – He would have no basis upon which to validly claim that means which He did not know could not possibly thwart His decrees. 

Gordon Clark's "Predestination" - Part 1

Creation

God created all things (cf. Ephesians 3:9; Colossians 1:13-16; Hebrews 3:4): heaven, the physical universe, and all things contained therein. This includes calamity (cf. Isaiah 45:7). In Hebrew, “calamity” denotes or is synonymous with “wickedness” approximately 50 times in the Old Testament, such as in Genesis 6:5. Essentially, the calamity of which Isaiah writes is “moral” (sin) as well as “natural” (hurricanes et. al.). This fits the juxtaposition between peace and calamity, as God creates moral well-being as well as natural (cf. Ezekiel 36:25-27).

That God created all things logically means that He originally created – made or produced – by fiat, and we see that this is indeed the case (cf. Genesis 1-2; Psalm 33). While He created men by the dust of the ground, He created the dust of the ground by His spoken word. Any instruments He uses to create ultimately have their origin in God’s spoken word. God creates out of nothing in modern times too; see, for instance, that God creates new hearts in His people (cf. Job 14:4; Ezekiel 36:25-27). This is simply to say that throughout Scripture, when God is designated as the creator, the evidence points toward the concept of “fiat creation.”

This unique capacity may imply omnipotence (cf. Isaiah 40:26; Romans 9:19-23; Revelation 4:11). What is certain from these passages is that God created all things for a reason – His pleasure – and that it was His pleasure that by all things He receive glory, honor, and power (cf. Hebrews 2:10). By creating and maintaining all things for His pleasure, then, He is worthy of receiving glory, honor, and power (cf. Romans 11:36). Furthermore, that God is described as almighty or omnipotent many times bears relevance to predestination, for while it is possible God did not predestine everything He might have, it should be agreed that – due to His limitless sovereignty over creation – God possesses the capacity of predestining any possibility.

That God is the omnipotent Alpha and the Omega may suggest something about God’s purpose in creation: He and His glory is the ends of His own purposes (cf. Proverbs 16:4). Moreover, that which is explicitly said to give glory to God – say, salvation (cf. Isaiah 46:13) – is often times predicated on contingencies. The reality of salvation is predicated on the idea that men need saving. That God has purposed salvation for His glory implies that those He is saving are also purposed for His glory, that that which sustains men can also be said to be purposed by God for His glory – insofar as the sustenance is necessary toward the reality of that which is explicitly said to give God glory: salvation – &c.

Also, the connectedness between the church and creation is such that to understand the purpose of the church is to understand the purpose of creation, that purpose being the manifestation of God’s glory through the manifestation of His wisdom (cf. Ephesians 3:8-10, 20-21). All things have been created so that, through the salvation of the church, the heavenly powers might understand that wisdom of God which is deserving of praise and glory – a point which, as an aside, demonstrates the validity of supralapsarianism. Because the ultimate purpose of creation is the manifestation of God’s glory by the manifestation of God’s wisdom, and because this end is said to be achieved by the more immediate purpose of creation – i.e. creation functions as the means by which Christ could redeem the church so that God’s wisdom would be manifested – the teleological order necessitates that God purposed the redemption of the church logically prior to creation. More clearly, one could ask why God created all things [such as they are], and the answer would be “so that the church could be redeemed.” Why did God desire the church to be redeemed? So that His glory would become manifest through His wisdom. Or, recognizing that a purpose relates to an intention, one could equivalently state that God’s intention in creating all things was so that He could redeem his church, and that His intention in redeeming the church was so that His glory would be made manifest through His wisdom. This is precisely what supralapsarianism entails. The glory of God, a reference to His excellence, is what God means to display through whatever means necessary: whether by displaying His knowledge of mysteries and capacity to create (cf. Ephesians 3:8-10, 20-21), His power (cf. Romans 9:11-17; Exodus 33:15-20), His compassion, love, and wrath (cf. Romans 9:19-23), &c. 

An example of Providence in my life

I twisted my ankle today, trying to catch the red bus. It wasn’t too bad. At the time, I just hoped nobody saw me trip. On the way back, I also just missed the blue bus; I had to walk 10 minutes in light rain to get back to the dorm. So as I was heading up the North Avenue stairs, a man called to me and asked if I could help him. So I went over, seemingly to his surprise, and asked what I could do. Most of the time someone asks me something in downtown, I ignore them. Why I didn’t do the same thing, God only knows – literally.

I thought he was going to ask me for directions. He asked if I knew the area well, and I told him I knew it fairly well. He told me that I was the first person who had acknowledged him today, which explained the surprised expression on his face. The turn of the conversation surprised me too, as I thought that on any other day I would probably have been one of those people who ignored him. I just replied that it didn’t really make sense nobody would talk to him for a minute.

He then asked if I was in Christ. At first, I thought I misheard him. Actually, I asked him to repeat himself. So doing, I answered that I was. It sort of shocked me to hear him just ask me outright. I had imagined this kind of situation numerous times – someone witnesses to me, I reply that I’m a Christian, we go talk about theology somewhere, and leave feeling in good spirits. The other possibility running through my head was that he wanted to learn about Christ, and that I would have to witness to him. That is a hypothetical which I’ve also thought about several times. What would I say? What would I do?

The look on his face at my reply was one of confused disbelief. He actually asked me if I was really telling the truth. Understandable, I guess. If I were an atheist and I thought I someone was about to witness to me in a public area, I might feel uncomfortable enough to lie. But, as I’m not, and as I wrote notes on Christian epistemology throughout the previous class period (a class which I now only have to attend to get an A, so don’t judge me!), I unpacked my notes and showed him some of the subjects I was reading. I told him I was going through the concept of the Christian canon. Amazed, he looked up and told me he was going to commit suicide before I talked to him.

I imagine I had a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look on my face. What was I supposed to say? The guy was obviously going through some deep emotional trial, and I’m not exactly the kind of guy who deals in emotions. So I did what any person like me would do: I let the guy do all the talking. He said that the bridge overlooking highway-85 had a hole somewhere in it he had thought about jumping through. He kept looking back at the various notes I had written and saying (more to himself than to me): “this is deep stuff.”

I suggested that we should go somewhere to get something to eat or sit down and talk, to which he agreed. This was nearly as much to buy some time to figure out how in the world I would proceed as it was in genuine concern for his safety. As we were walking toward Wingnuts, he said what I was thinking: “I’m not really hungry, can we just sit in here and talk?” (I actually despise Wingnuts, so that suited me.)

I left the man at a table while I went, to the chagrin of the cashier, to order two waters. Sitting down, the man started to open up a bit more about why he was considering suicide. He said that although he had a beautiful wife and nine month old daughter, things were becoming stressful for him. He said that he was an orphan as a child, and never was adopted even though he had asked God for foster parents. He lost his job, and as he committed a crime when he was 22, he said that getting a decent job had been tough. He’d been told he was about to be evicted… on Thanksgiving. He told me that on Thanksgiving – which he did say was a cozy meal – he asked God to reveal Himself, something for which he had apparently been praying for a while. He couldn’t understand why he was suffering. He wasn’t asking for the luxuries that he sometimes sees others endowed with. He was only asking for God to provide for his family. He also didn’t understand why God would allow people to suffer in general. This observation seemed more whimsically philosophical, as though he didn’t expect an answer.

I think at this point he apologized for what he thought was dumping his problems on me. I stopped him quickly and told him that this was a discussion I probably needed as much as he did. Given that I’m not very experienced in relating my own testimony to God’s Providence, I though I should tell him about a recent event in my life that was evidence of God’s plan for me (see here). In response to his question about why bad things seemed to be happening to him, I cited Romans 8:28, which he recalled, as finished the quote with me. I also told him that, since Romans is one of my favorite books, he should also read 9:22-23. Having read about the common objection against Christianity grounded on human suffering, I felt pretty comfortable telling him what I had learned: some people are put in situations of trial for the benefit of others. For example, those who are vessels of wrath enable vessels of mercy to see God’s grace and mercy in a way they could not were there no vessels of wrath. And, while that may be of little comfort to one who is in the situation of trial, when I asked if we deserved the blessings of, say, a good wife and daughter, all he could say was “word.”

When he said that the churches he had been going to weren’t helping him, I figured that since the money I had won for the essay wasn’t really mine anyways, the $80 I gave him for diapers and food (so he said) was the least I could do. He called his wife on my phone to tell her that he got the money, and I heard him say “Thank you? Why are you thanking me?” When he hung up, he said that he realized that she should have been thanking God. It was pretty cool. He’s supposed to call later to find out the information about my church, so please pray that goes well. He kept falling over himself thanking me even as we were getting up to leave, and asking (i.e. defying) me to tell Him that this wasn’t God’s working. Just as my experience writing the essay for the TF contest, there were too many coincidental "might as wells" and "ifs" for me to not recognize that this was God's work. If I hadn't twisted my ankle, I'd have gotten off the bus at a different location than the way which I walked back to the dorm. If I hadn't decided to actually help a guy who asked for it, someone might have died today. If he hadn't gotten discouraged enough to just follow through on his dark thought, he would have never seen God's working. Too many ifs, if you ask me.