[11/24/20]
Here, I come to a topic that is somewhat surprisingly controversial; that of membership in the local body of the church. I say it is controversial not because it gives rise to heated debate, but insomuch as it is a matter of any debate at all. And with that, I should have to admit that there have been seasons when I myself did not see fit to make my membership an official matter. But that was largely the residual effect of so many years when that particular church felt no need for membership. It was rather a case of, if I’ve been counted a member lo, these many years, what cause have we to go through paperwork now? It was not so much, then, the idea of membership but rather the late imposition of officialdom on the matter that sat wrong with me. And that may well have had more to do with an untamed, if quiet, rebel spirit than with anything to do with sound doctrine.
What makes the topic a matter of debate amongst believers is the simple fact that, like many other matters of theology and doctrine, one can’t point to a Scripture here or there and see the clear declaration of a need for officiated membership. Yet, conceptually, it seems to me that the evidence of such a concept is there, and the necessity of it clear enough to see. That latter, while sufficient for rational thought, is not in itself sufficient to establish a doctrinal footing, but combined with the former, it serves to bolster the case, I should think.
So, what are the arguments for accepting the need for official membership? I could find a partial support in the way the church’s leaders are described with this eye toward the model of a shepherd. If the sheep know the master’s voice, and the master knows his sheep, it is because they are known to him, members of his flock. Another sheep from outside the flock would be noted as such, and would not be subject to the master. He may or may not undertake to keep it safe until its master comes along, but he will not keep it as his own, nor care for it with quite the same care as he would his own.
To put it differently, the shepherd is not responsible for those sheep not given over unto his care. I am carefully retaining lowercase here, because it is not to Jesus I refer in this instance, but to the pastors and elders who form the chief governance of the church at the local level.
I could point, as well, to those passages in which Paul describes the local church (and by degree, the global church) as a body, to which each member contributes its part. Now, if I contemplate the physical body, obviously there is no need for officially accepting this limb or that organ as body member, is there? Or is it so obvious? The physical body has rather amazing capacity for identifying, isolating, and rejecting that which does not belong to it; that which is not a member. Think of the reaction to even something like a splinter. The body recognizes this as foreign to its being, and undertakes to isolate and, if possible, expel. Virus and bacteria are likewise addressed by the body when it is functioning as it ought. This does not belong. It must be eradicated, rejected, removed from the body.
Turning to the matter of membership in the body of the church, I don’t know that such violent response to non-members is particularly suitable, but that’s not really the point I would take from the physical example. Rather, it’s the capacity of the body to recognize what belongs to itself. In the earliest days of the Church, that may have been at least a bit easier, in that there was typically but the one church in town to which one might or might not belong. Yet, the danger of admitting non-members was great, wasn’t it? On the one hand, there was the risk of state violence against the believers if they were found, for Rome was not particularly fond of Christianity. On the other hand, as we see in the evidence of so many of the Epistles, there was the risk of false beliefs being brought in by these false members.
In point of fact, I could look at the example of those Epistles as yet another point of support for the concept of membership, and this, from the exclusionary perspective. I turn to my standard example of 2 John. “For many deceivers have gone out into the world, those who do not acknowledge Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh. This is the deceiver and the antichrist” (2Jn 7). What to do? “If anyone comes to you and does not bring this teaching, do not receive him into your house, and do not give him a greeting; for the one who gives him a greeting participates in his evil deeds” (2Jn 10-11).
Okay, what’s going on here? John, at surface at least, is focused primarily on those who come with teachings. But I would say to you that we all come with teachings. We all come with our doctrinal perspectives, however well or loosely defined. This is, perhaps, truer today than ever, what, with the multiplicity of local churches from which it seems memberships ebb and flow one to the other, not to mention the flood of teaching by radio, television, and internet. We are inundated with all manner of teaching, and the less discerning are willing to give it all a listen, and will inevitably incorporate bits of this and that into their views. This is exactly John’s concern. Your actions in giving even so mild an appearance of acceptance as to offer greeting or invite to meal is lending credence to their beliefs as being valid when in fact they are not. You are encouraging those who witness your welcome to likewise welcome this deceptive message as truth. Don’t do it!
But see? That is in itself a picture of defined membership in the body. These are part of the body, members of the Church. Those are not. These hold fast to the Head. Those do not.
I have seen it offered that baptism likewise relates in its way to membership, particularly as it was practiced in the early church. Baptism came after a period of catechism, and after the candidate had given credible evidence of belief and of understanding what he had believed. It was, if you will, a public recognition of membership in this body of Christ. To some degree, I suppose I would agree with my Presbyterian brothers that circumcision was likewise a recognition of membership, but I think, in a very different fashion. Circumcision remained a mark of potential membership, so far as the spiritual reality of the covenant was concerned. An eight-day old baby, after all, was in no position to make such commitment, nor to accept it. Neither did the parents of that baby suppose any such thing. They hoped and prayed that it would be so, certainly, and they undertook to train up that child in the way it should go. But any parent knows that all the effort parents may give to that worthy goal are no guarantee of success. The child matures and becomes a man or a woman, and in maturity makes choices, whether for good or for ill, and the parents largely lose all but advisory input to the process. In the end, the child stands or falls on his own merits, which is to say, on his own faith in Christ. Circumcision did not provide nor could it guarantee faith in the one circumcised.
In this, I would say baptism has the same issue. It does not provide or guarantee faith. Yet it is, particularly undertaken in the fashion of believer’s baptism, a declaration of faith, a profession of belief. Rightly administered, it is a reasonable confirmation of reasonable faith, that is to say, of faith that understands what and Whom it has believed, and of a life that is being shaped by said faith, and by the God of said faith. It is a marker of acceptance into membership in the body of Christ. It does not bestow that membership, but rather affirms and confirms it. Christ alone determines membership in His body.
That must be held true, for salvation is by Christ alone. “All that the Father gives Me shall come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will certainly not cast out” (Jn 6:37). But , “No one can come to Me, unless the Father who sent Me draws him; and I will raise him up on the last day” (Jn 6:44). Parents: You cannot make your children members. You can train them, yes. You can inform them, certainly, and see to it that they have heard and understood the truth of God. But belief is not yours to determine. It comes by Christ, as the Father wills, and the Spirit imparts, else it comes not at all, no matter your efforts. Fortunately for many, the obverse holds equally true. Your failure, or even your vehement opposition to Christ cannot prevent the child called by the Father from coming to Christ.
[11/25/20]
All of this relates back to matters of membership in the body of Christ, and as such, I think it reasonable to say it also relates to matters of membership in the local body of the church. It being His body, it is His say who is and isn’t a member thereof. But there will be those who come claiming a part who in fact have no part. Again, I can turn to John’s letters. “They went out from us, but they were not really of us; for if they had been of us, they would have remained with us; but they went out, in order that it might be shown that they are not of us” (1Jn 2:19). They kept up appearances for a time, but in due course, their true nature was revealed. They went out, and even then, it may well be they were claiming union, though that union was utterly false.
What is John doing in this instance? He is reaffirming those who are of the body, and demonstrating the great divide between what belongs to Christ and what does not. He is also, I dare say, showing the need for a guard over membership. The shepherd knows his own sheep. Others may be added, but I suspect even if you went to a modern sheep farm, you would find the newcomer held in abeyance for a time until its fitness were determined. Then it shall have the marks of fellowship applied. You may notice, for example, the recent practice of tagging one’s sheep with a bit of dye. There is visible notice that these sheep are of this flock. Those with a different tagging may share the field for a time, but they are not of this flock. There is membership and exclusivity.
The same could have been said for the folds of Israel’s shepherds in the time of Christ. Flocks might share the fold, but each shepherd knew his own and, to remind of Christ’s words, his own knew him. His voice they would heed and no other.
The matter of membership in the covenant community of faith is strong throughout the Old Testament. The mark of circumcision was important, yes, but it wasn’t as though somebody was checking at the gate, and women certainly were not excluded from faith by the impossibility of bearing that mark on their anatomy. No, but covenant membership showed in practice, in morals, in character. And the one whose character and practice belied a lack of faith, a lack of reverent fear for God were cut off from the society of God’s covenant people. Is that harsh? Sure it is. Cutting off is always going to be harsh. Exclusivity is always going to be harsh; certainly, it will be so in the eyes of the one excluded.
Just consider how we are inundated with the calls for inclusiveness, for diversity at all cost, and so on. Never mind the sincerity or validity of those calls. What I want to see is the underlying sense. It is hurtful to exclude, and therefore exclusion, on whatever basis, must be done away. One shudders at the thought of this reaching its inevitable conclusion, when skill is no longer a qualifying factor for any profession, but rather some numbers game to prove inclusion, but the underlying problem is an unwillingness to recognize the need for exclusivity, and the necessary outfall of that, which is that some will indeed be excluded.
But in practice, we are all of us exclusionary. There are those we count as friends, and those we do not. Those we do not so count are excluded from our company, so far as it lies with us to determine. There are those we would consider as spouses, if we are in a position to have such considerations, and those we would not. There are those teachers and bosses we would gladly labor under and those we would escape at earliest convenience. We are an exclusionary people by nature. To pretend otherwise is silly, and quite probably detrimental to health and peace alike.
But here, we are talking about the people of God, a holy people, set apart as priests and servants to our Lord and Savior, the Creator of heaven and earth and all that is in them. We are talking about that which is precious to the Lord, and fortunately, also carefully preserved by His own doing, come what may. We are, by God’s design, a remnant people, a distinct minority in the population at large. We, I think particularly here in America, tend to think it ought not to be this way. We recognize the impact of Christianity upon the culture, and we mourn its waning. Rightly so. Much better for all, believer and unbeliever alike, if faith remained a significant factor in the doings of the state and of the people. Christianity has a solid track record of positive influence on society, whatever may be said of it at present. That is not to say that it has not suffered periods which the world could have well done without. But overall, it’s been a significant net positive.
What we must also recognize is the inherent fragility of this minority. We are, as the old song says, prone to wander. We’re sheep, after all, and in constant need of a shepherd. That shepherd, in order to do his task, must have a clear sense of which sheep are his and which are not. The old fable of the wolf in sheep’s clothing is apt. The one who comes in among the flock, has the surface appearances of being of the flock, but is in fact come to snatch, scatter, and destroy, must be recognized as such, and expelled before damage can be done to the true sheep.
Now, I have to balance this. God does not lose sheep. But that does not mean a particular sheep is incapable of straying. If that were the case, we should have no need of shepherds; of pastors and elders, nor even of church at all. We could join those who boldly claim sufficiency in “me and Christ.” We are not granted such license, but rather called to come together, to forsake not gathering together, to contribute each one his gifts and strengths to the sustaining of all, and to find sustenance each one in his weaknesses in the sustaining contributions of all. Isn’t that something? But it’s something that bears guarding, protecting, nurturing. And therefore, it becomes needful for the shepherd to be in place, the instrumental means of God’s saving and preserving purpose.
For the shepherd to be in place and have any capacity to speak into the life of the sheep requires authorization in some form. Would that I could find certain of the reference passages that are so much on my mind, but the exact wording and location eludes me, and I am unable to chase them out. Suffice, then, to present the gist of it. There is the call for the overseer to look to the welfare of his own flock, and the inclusion of that possessive in the instruction suggests something else: That he is not authorized to exercise any sort of oversight towards another flock. The pastor’s authority, the elders’ authority, ceases at the door, so to speak. It extends so far as the body of that local church and no farther. He can counsel and advise beyond that limit, to be sure, but he has not the authority to insist on compliance or to undertake such disciplinary actions as might serve within the confines of his flock. There is the suggestion of membership, certainly.
Now, to be sure, if some wolf enters the church, there is authority to expel such a one from the premises as may well prove needful, but that is a far different thing than the natural authority we should associate with the leadership of the church. Theirs is, as we have observed, not so much a legislative authority as an instructive authority. I’m not sure I’m choosing the best words to convey my point here. But their leadership is not a matter of propounding rules and regulations so much as providing instruction, encouragement, and where necessary for growth, rebuke. They are there to serve the body, not to lord it over the body. That service to the body certainly extends to the protective services of expelling those who would seek to harm the body, whether by direct violence or by the spiritual violence of heresy and deceit.
From a purely pragmatic sense, which is hardly the best basis for any argument, let alone one for doctrinal stance, the potential necessary for spiritually sound disciplinary action requires the authorizing relationship of governance and membership. The governor of the state, for example, has authority that only really extends to those who are residents, members, of the state. Yes, there is a degree to which that authority extends to those visiting the state as well, but fundamentally, he cannot set forth rules for those outside his borders. The mayor does not establish ordinances except within the city limits of that city in which he is mayor. He cannot set rules for the town next door. So, too, the leadership of the local church has not authority to impose itself in any fashion upon those outside the church. But that outside requires identification of who is inside. We register as citizens of this state or that city or what have you, even if it is only by dint of taking up residence and establishing our place. If we belong to any sort of clubs, there is membership involved, that those who run said club may know, at the very least, who is part of the club and who is but a visitor. We may have membership in some form of trade association or professional organization. We may be members at Costco, or Amazon, or what have you. It’s hardly a novel concept, but if anything, it becomes the more needful in the church, because the stakes are higher.
Baptism, as I say, may be practiced as a marker of inclusion, although I think it more a matter of inclusion in the larger body of the Church universal. But the hope is that baptism has been applied for and administered in a meaningful and careful fashion, to one who has given demonstration of true, biblical faith and true fidelity to Christ. Where this is not the evidence, there must be something else. Perhaps it is the confirmation process familiar to certain branches of the Church. Perhaps it is some other mechanism by which sufficiency of understanding and true, if incomplete (for we are all of us incomplete) commitment to faith in Christ has been determined. But somehow, some way, the propriety of true membership in the body must surely be determined, and the commitments and benefits inherent therein conveyed to the member.
That being said, I was much impressed with Pastor Ron’s strong encouragement for constancy in membership a few weeks back. He listed but three reasonable causes to leave a church, the simplest being relocation made necessary by the changing situations of life. In other words, if I had to move west, it would be rather a burden to maintain membership in a church back east, and also rather pointless, given the improbability of any real involvement therein. The most serious cause for departure lay in the issue of heresy preached unchecked. That’s not to say we up and pack it in the first time we hear something disagreeable, nor even something just plain wrong. But if that which is truly, dangerously wrong is not addressed, not corrected as publicly and seriously as it was proclaimed? Then we need to think whether this is indeed Christ’s flock or not, and perhaps recognize that we have wandered in amongst an alternate flock. Would that I could remember the third reason, but it seems to me it was largely the same as the first. The point is simple: Membership is a commitment.
Membership is a commitment, and that may very well be the most significant reason for its exercise, both for the leadership and for the member. Membership is akin to the “I do” of the wedding ceremony. It is a declaration that, perhaps not until death do us part, but certainly until physical circumstance precludes continuing, I commit myself to this body, to its teaching for my benefit, and to my contribution in whatever ways I am able to its growth and maturation. It is a recognition of familial bonds, quite possibly and quite reasonably stronger even than those we feel towards blood relatives. I am with you in sickness and in health, in good times and hard times, through thick and thin. I will be there for you, and take comfort in knowing that you will be there for me. That is what membership proclaims. I am committed. Yes, we may know periods of disagreement and even anger, much though we like to believe that shouldn’t come about. Yes, we may have to undergo disciplinary actions now and again, either from one another or from some other means of the Lord’s choosing. But we shall persevere together, you and I. We shall stand side by side, come what may, learning and growing together, and if necessary, suffering patiently together in the certain hope of our God. We shall look to one another’s well-being, recognize in one another a mutual concern, and hear from one another the counsel of God’s Holy Spirit, Who indwells all those whom the Father has been pleased to give the Son.
If indeed we are His, then we are members one of another, regardless of any form of official membership. That is certainly true. I am member of that same church as Paul planted back at the outset. I am member of the same church that knew Peter and James as its leaders in the beginning. I am member of the same church as my fellow believers in Africa, in China, in South America, or in the church down the street from us. But where I have established membership, I have established a commitment, pledged a commitment, that is no matter of convenience, but of determined, continued perseverance alongside those who have likewise committed to being at my side. That is something far stronger than the global, universal brotherhood that pertains in Christ, because it is here, to use the rather overworn phrase, is where the rubber meets the road. Here is where commitment and compassion are tested. Here is where I shall discover whether I truly have it in me to love others as I love myself, to count others as more worthy than myself. And if I cannot do it here, then what I do in regard to far-flung churches and their material support, or even their prayer support, really amount to nothing.
