Five Reasons for Reconsidering the New Form of Subscription

Excerpted from a letter to the Board of Trustees of the CRCNA

by Raymond A. Blacketer

As for the deficits of the report, I offer a brief summary. First, the report presents a highly skewed interpretation of Reformed church history and the role of the Form of Subscription (FOS) in that history. It demonstrates no awareness of the role that the Form of Subscription played in the Secession (Afscheiding) of 1834 or the Doleantie (Abraham Kuyper's Reformation of 1886), namely, that the loosening or removal of this instrument was among the causes of these secessions of orthodox, Reformed believers from a church in which the liberal, elite hierarchy no longer valued the confessions.

Further, it portrays the function of the Form of Subscription in exaggerated, overly dramatic terms as a kind of tool of Calvinist Inquisition, or an Ecclesiastical Gestapo, which has little basis in historical fact or in the normal functioning of this document in the life of our churches.

Thirdly, the report makes the unsubstantiated and easily refuted claim that the FOS has stifled discussion and silenced dissent in the CRCNA. Given the healthy, if sometimes bitter, debate our churches have carried on over the past decades over the ordination of women, the relationship between creation and science, the revision of Heidelberg Catechism Q&A 80, and children at the Lord's Supper, this contention is self-evidently false. The report casts doubt on whether “a regulatory instrument is needed to keep us orthodox.” Aside from the dubious and highly debatable nature of this claim, it was not the committee’s mandate to fundamentally alter the nature of the Form of Subscription, but, more modestly, to make it clearer and more understandable for officebearers, and to anticipate and forestall some of the objections and misconceptions that officebearers might have.

Fourth, the committee represents a very one-sided perspective that is strongly biased against the Reformed confessional tradition and that is steeped in the dubious claims of post-modernism, which relativizes and temporizes all truth. It is not the place of a task force to decide for the churches that our Form of Subscription no longer speaks to our current intellectual climate. Rather than accommodating ourselves to this reigning cultural world-view, we as a church should be resisting this radical subjectivism. C. S. Lewis famously criticized this phenomenon, which he called “chronological snobbery,” as “the uncritical acceptance of the intellectual climate common to our own age and the assumption that whatever has gone out of date is on that account discredited” (Surprised by Joy, 207).

Finally, the task force has exceeded its mandate and authority by elevating the Contemporary Testimony to a doctrinal standard. In addition to its failure to carefully study the nature and function of confessional subscription in our Dutch Reformed tradition and in other confessional traditions (e.g. Lutheran and Presbyterian), the committee has failed to reflect theologically on the distinction between a frequently revised and less binding contemporary testimony and the historic Reformed confessions.

In sum, I foresee that this report in its present state will be unacceptable to many officebearers and church councils and consistories. It undermines our confessional tradition, which is the one element that binds all of the various mindsets of the CRC together. It is certain to cause division and has great potential to lead to secession from the church, a secession which, unlike that of the early 1990's, would be historically justifiable on the basis of the 1834 and 1886 secessions. Moreover, it will further deepen the distrust that many members feel regarding the confessional integrity and sincerity of the denomination and its leadership.

Sincerely, in the work of Christ's kingdom, and in the service of the universal church and as an ordained servant in the Christian Reformed Church in North America.

Raymond A. Blacketer is minister of the Neerlandia (Alberta) Christian Reformed Church.

When you recite the Apostles’ Creed and say, “I believe . . . .”

“The man or woman in the early centuries of the Christian tradition who with great seriousness and excitement said ‘I believe’ and then repeated the Christian community’s confession of faith was not attempting to state the personal beliefs of a private individual. On the contrary, the primary intention and meaning of that affirmation was to identify herself or himself as a participating member of a community and a tradition, both of which were quite objective to the individual and, in fact, formative of that individual’s new life.

“Fundamental, important beliefs thus point not so much to a private subjective world as they point to some historical tradition and to the community that bears that tradition and lives from or within it. The symbolic contents of the creed, what was believed, were thus actually more creative of the individual’s inner or subjective life than the reverse; and that public content had that crucial shaping role because it was, in turn, the significant factor creative of the tradition in question, of the community in which every individual lived and acted, of the ‘world’–nature, history, the divine–surrounding the persons in that tradition and community.

“‘Belief’ on the deepest level has reference to the symbolic forms that structure the perspectives, the norms, and thus the life of objective historical communities. This is evident enough in religious communities where there is an explicit correlation or coherent unity among beliefs about reality (expressed in a creed or its equivalent), rules or law covering ordinary behavior, rituals and practices, and thus a total and all-encompassing style of life shared by the whole community.

“To say ‘I believe’ in that context is first of all to associate oneself as participant on the deepest level in such an objective religious and yet also social world borne by a given historical religious tradition and embodied in both the inner and the outer life of each member of that community.”

Langdon Gilkey, Message and Existence. An Introduction to Christian Theology (Minneapolis: Seabury, 1979), 24-25. (Emphasis added.)

The Covenant and Infant Baptism

a sermon by Calvin P. Van Reken*
Scripture reading: Genesis 17 and Galatians 3

Today in the church there are many people who wonder why we baptize infants. Even some who are Christian Reformed think it acceptable, maybe even preferable, to dedicate babies. But we didn’t dedicate Austin John this morning – he was baptized. God is the one who acts in baptism, the minister is only God’s agent.

This morning Austin's parents did not dedicate him to God. No, this morning God did something, God claimed Austin as His very own child. Dedication is something we do. Baptism is something God does.

This morning I want to tell you why children, even infants, receive baptism. In telling you about this I will need to touch on what baptism means. For this I will need to explain the broader context, the greater reality, of which baptism is a part. Let me start, though, with the underlying reason why so many people today struggle with infant baptism. That reason is that our society is radically individualistic. The church and popular theology have been significantly affected by this individualism.

Radical Individualism

At the beginning of its European immigrant origins, America was settled populated with people who were willing to leave the familiar surroundings of villages and cities, of family and friends, to come to the New World; striking out on their own where the success and failure, life and death, would be almost entirely up to their individual abilities. They did not and could not count on any social network to support them. It was up to each individual to make it in the world. Of course, there was cooperation, but it only worked when it was to everyone’s benefit. “If I can get ahead by working with you, or helping you, then I’ll do it, but not simply because of other social ties, not because you live in my village or even because we are related.”

What developed then was a society where the individual’s decisions were the most important in determining the course of that person’s life. A society in which social ties were largely based on individual self-interest. You can see the effects of this today: while counties in Europe have become increasingly socialistic, setting up programs so that everyone has health care, retirement income, education, and the like. The US has been very reluctant to follow Europe’s example. (I’m not here making any claim about whether that’s good or bad, just that the US is different.)

We can see this radical individualism in our own attitudes, too. It’s possible, even common, in the US for one family member to be quite wealthy, and his brothers and sisters to just struggle to get by. You may have some very wealthy friends, but they probably have never given you any money. Our idea is that each person is responsible for his or her own success and failure, even members of the same family.

It’s quite different other places. In parts of Africa, if one family member starts a business and has success, all his family members, relatives, even fellow tribes members will come to him with expectations of help. One person cannot succeed unless everyone in his clan does. This makes it very hard to succeed, to build and accounts in part for some of the financial troubles in Africa.

The reason people have a problem with infant baptism

Now, what does this have to do with infant baptism? Well, individualism says each person stands or dies on his/her own merits. Apply that to Christianity and it means each person as an individual stands or falls on his/her own. It isn’t your family, or relatives, or church that secures your salvation, you must do it yourself.

Wait a minute, though, we Protestants know the basic teaching of salvation that it is not earned at all, it is by God’s grace in Jesus Christ through faith. The requirement on our part is to have faith, so radical individualism concludes each individual must have personal faith to be saved. Now little children do not have any faith in Jesus, a three month old can hardly frame even simple ideas, he’s not at a stage of basic recognition of what is familiar and what is not. The fact that small infants can’t have any faith in Jesus seems to imply that they can’t be saved–so they shouldn’t be baptized.

Let me make it clear, the main reason people in the US object to baptizing infants is due to the influence of radical individualism which says each and every individual needs to have faith of his or her own to be saved. Now, while radical individualism may be a good way to think if you want a prosperous society, it isn’t the basis for how God thinks or acts. So let’s consider the account in the Bible in which God explains how he planned to save us.

God’s Deep and Wide Covenant

In Genesis 17, God confirms his covenant with Abraham. A covenant is sometimes said to be like a contract where each party promises something and agrees to some conditions. A person could have a contract to supply windows for a new house, that’s his side of the deal and in return he will get paid. But we didn’t really have a contract with God Almighty; he simply announces what he will do and what our responses to Him must be.

Look at what God says in verse 7 of Genesis 17. “I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you.” Here you should note four things. First, that God establishes his covenant. It isn’t contingent on Abraham, it doesn’t depend on his descendants, God establishes it. Second, it is an everlasting covenant, it is established by God. He makes it and he will never let go of the promises included in it. Third, one promise that God makes is that he will be Abraham’s God. That is, Abraham will belong to God. This is a promise of salvation. Fourth and important for us this morning as we consider infant baptism, the covenant is not just between God and Abraham but “Abraham and his descendants for the generations to come.”

God doesn’t just think in terms of individuals, his eye is on whole generations of a family. God not only makes promises to living persons, but to future generations. His covenant grace is deep; it is generational.

The idea is rather simple, really. Remember, being in the covenant means you belong to God. Now suppose someone, say Bob, is a rancher and Bob owns a herd of cattle that roam around the range. They all have Bob’s brand on them. One day Bob is out checking his herd and he finds that some new calves were born. Now consider this: to whom do the calves belong? Is this a hard question? Bob doesn’t think, “When these calves grow up I can buy them.” He doesn’t worry that they don’t have his brand on them. Rather he rounds up the new calves and puts his brand on them, they belong to him. Infant baptism is God putting his name on a child who belongs to him. He is claiming a child as his own. He shows us that the child is in the covenant.

In Genesis 17, God goes on to tell Abraham that the sign of this everlasting covenant is to be circumcised. Each of Abraham’s male descendants must receive circumcision when they are eight days old. This was branding them physically so that they would be identifiable as belonging to God. And Abraham is told not just to circumcise his own sons, but anyone in his household.

Listen to Genesis 17:13 – “Whether born in your household or bought with your own money they must be circumcised.” You see, the covenant extends not only to Abraham and his sons but to anyone that belongs to Abraham. It makes since, what belongs to Abraham, belongs to God, because all belongs to God.

God’s covenant of grace not only deep, extending through all generations, it is also wide. It includes even those who are not, physically speaking, the children of Abraham. And right after explaining circumcision to Abraham, God goes on to make it clear that girls and women are in the covenant too. He tells Abraham that her name will not be Sarah; He gives her a new name. Who gave you your name? Wasn’t it your parents? The ones you belong to? So by renaming Sarah, God makes it clear that Sarah is also in God’s covenant.

So God’s plan of salvation is to make a covenant with Abraham, to be His God to save him and his wife, his sons, his daughters, his servants; down through the generations, long after Abraham himself is dead. God’s salvation extends to all who are connected to Abraham,

Covenant “connections”

Now this seems to our ears rather unfair. Why should Abraham’s great grandson be included in God’s covenant, while some other person’s grandchild is not included? It would be fairer to let each person decide for himself or herself whether he or she wants to be in the covenant. Then it would be each person’s choice rather than what ancestral connections you have. You see, our radical individualism finds a flaw in God’s plan. Salvation is too important; it shouldn’t be based on what connections you have.

The fact is, though, that a lot of other important things that happen to a person are because of their connections to others, not because of any individual choice. My great grandparents packed up and left the Netherlands and moved to the US. As a result, I am a citizen of the USA, not the Netherlands. I’m a member of the CRC, not the Protestant Church of the Netherlands. I went to Calvin College, not the Free University in Amsterdam. My parents decided to live in the suburbs of Chicago, so I cheer for the Chicago Bears and the Bulls and the Blackhawks. Not for the Detroit Lions, Pistons, or Red Wings. When the University of Michigan plays Michigan State, I hope they both lose.

All of these facts about me can be traced to a decision that my great grandparents made, I had no voice in their choice, but it had a great effect on my life. It’s true in all our lives that who we are connected to makes a lot of difference.

It’s also true in the Bible. Consider how the fortunes of Israel would ebb and flow depending on what sort of king they had. If they had an evil king, they would soon have trouble in their lives. God’s judgment affected the whole nation. Foreign peoples would invade and threaten Israel or Judah. Living under a bad king meant a more difficult life, perhaps even an early death.

A second and important case in the Bible is the fall into sin. When Adam and Eve sinned, every one of their descendants, including you and me, was seriously affected. Our lives were altered for the worse, far worse. Instead of loving God and each other, we are born with a disposition to hate God and to hate others.

We got this disposition to be self-centered and fearful because of a decision of Adam and Eve. But we had no part of it, did we? We weren’t back there in the garden, chosing to sin against God. Why should we have to suffer so because of the decision of someone else? Well, because we are connected to Adam and Eve, they are our parents and what they decide has effects for us. So the idea that Abraham’s descendants are favored by being included in the covenant with God, even though they didn’t choose it fits a pattern we know. God does not deal with us based only/primarily on the choices we each make individually. He works with families, communities, nations, and humankind as a whole.

If we now look at Galatians 3, we can see how God’s covenant was advanced perfectly in Jesus Christ.

Connected to Jesus by faith

Jesus, a descendant of Abraham, came into our sinful mess and lived a perfect life; he died as a sacrifice for the sins of those who belong to God and he rose again. The connection that matters for salvation is not a blood connection to Abraham, but a faith connection to Abraham’s seed, believing not just that he died but that he’s living today. Such faith connects us to him and all the promises and benefits that he has earned--salvation, peace, joy, contentment, an eternal home. These belong to us as well because we are connected to him. We are not physical descendants of Jesus – our connection is not one of blood – our connection is by faith.

That brings us back to the question, though; don’t we each individually need to have faith to be connected to Jesus? To be baptized? The straight answer is – NO.

Remember God works through families and communities; families with a true faith, communities of faith. What belongs to a family of faith and to a community of faith – belongs to God. Sometimes a person will reject the faith of his or her family and break off any connection with the community of faith. When that happens, we don’t know exactly what to say. God knows who belongs to him – we can’t always tell, but usually we can. A child in a Christian home is a child of the covenant – there’s faith in that home. A family or a person who chooses to identify with a community of faith – there’s faith there, too.

The problem with our radical individualism is that it robs us of the comfort and consolation of God’s grace so often because we know ourselves too well – our sin and lack of faith to be comfortable with the idea that our future condition and our eternal destiny depends on us. If you are baptized into Christ Jesus your connection to him by faith is what makes all the difference.

The child that was baptized this morning is too little to have his own faith yet. Someday you may be too old and perhaps you may not be able to remember who you are. Sometimes even now you may be overwhelmed and wonder whether you have faith.

Remember, what matters is that you belong to Jesus, that you are connected to him, not just as an individual, but because you are a member of his family. You have been baptized, and God has placed the mark of his ownership on you. So even when your faith wavers, or your mind wanders, or your life seems headed in the wrong direction, you need to that you belong body and soul to your faithful Savior, Jesus Christ. This is our only comfort in life and death.

*Dr. Van Reken delivered this sermon at Beckwith Hills Christian Reformed Church, Grand Rapids, Michigan, earlier this year.

This is my body
Arie C. Leder

Every Sunday they worship among us, sing with us, and enjoy coffee and cookies afterwards. Like us they sit with their own or “adopted” families. No more noticeable than the young couple almost sitting on top of each other, the spoiled child loudly manipulating her parents, or the seniors occupying the back pew, they belong; they are our “Friends.”

Sometime during the week, several times a month, “Friendship” groups gather in many Christian Reformed churches in Canada and the United States. These groups are served by Friendship Ministries (www.friendship.org), whose mission is “to share God’s love with people who have cognitive impairments and to enable them to become an active part of God’s family.” And active they are.

Frank loves singing. The music he sings is recognizable, but not always pleasant for pew neighbors. Frank specializes making a joyous noise to the Lord. Moreover, if it’s a hymn Frank learned before the gray hymnal appeared he sings it blue hymnal style, politically correct changes in the words notwithstanding. Judy worships with deep certainty: every liturgical “Amen” is underscored by her own “Amen!” Her aging father was not always pleased with her worship style, her wanting to stand, by herself (she is wheelchair bound), finding the hymns, by herself. And then there is, let me call him George. When he sings he often raises his left arm, makes a fist, and then pumps the arm up throughout the song. More power to him. There are many such friends, cognitively and physically impaired, who belong to the body of Christ. Does this mean that the body of Christ is impaired?

Broken body theology

Disability has entered the theological discussion in articles such as “The Body of Christ has Down’s Syndrome,” (Journal of Pastoral Theology 13.2 [Fall 2003]: 66-78), by John Swinton: “The Disabled Body of Christ as A Critical Metaphor–Towards a Theory (Journal of Religion, Disability and Health [ 7.4 (2003]: 25-40), by Susanne Rappmann; “Redeemed Bodies: Fullness of Life,” (Human Disability and the Service of God. Reassessing Religious Practice [Abingdon, 1998], 123-143), by Barbara A. B. Patterson; and “God in our Flesh: Body Theology and Religious Education” (Religious Education 98.1 [2003]: 82-94) by Christopher K. Richardson.

Opinions move from the disabled body being a metaphor (Rappmann), to an argument for disability as another kind of diversity (Patterson), to the position that the body, including its disabled form, “is the midpoint and locus of communication between God and us,” that “the body becomes the speaker, rather than the spoken to; it is the teacher rather than the taught. Not objects to be shaped by scripture and tradition, but active Words of God to shape scripture and tradition, bodies (which ultimately means whole human beings as body-selves) are given a place befitting that of the children of God.” In other words, bodies have revelatory potential. (Richardson, 84-85, representing the position of James B. Nelson’s Body Theology). Broken bodies, then, are as “whole” as other “normal” bodies (authors speak of the “hegemony” of the normal); God doesn’t make mistakes. Students preparing for a career in speech pathology learn about the “deaf culture” which opposes hearing implants. Such intervention would be cultural suicide. Sign language is normal, not abnormal.

The Christian tradition holds that when Jesus Christ comes again the blind will see, the lame will walk, the deaf will hear, the lepers will be cured, and the dead will be raised. Christ himself provided a foretaste of this new world (Matt. 11:4-6). The new earth, in which righteousness dwells (2 Peter 3:13), will be discontinuous with the old world, including all those disorders, personal and social, that characterized the old order (Rev. 21: 3-4). The new view argues for continuity between the present and the future. One might say, the future is now. In this view the body defines us: your body, my body, whatever its shape or condition, I imagine, is the means of communication between you and God. You are your body. Somehow, I’m not comforted by that thought.

The body that defines us

The impulse toward the newer body theology no doubt is rooted in the marginalization and abuse disabled people have suffered throughout the ages and the desire to correct this. Their inclusion in theological reflection is healthy, as is the renewed focus on the role of the body as such. It should, however, take into consideration the church’s classic theological formulations about these matters. Classic Christian thought is clear about one thing: we are not our bodies, whatever their condition or shape; we are body and soul. This is universally the case. From this it follows that the body, whatever its shape or condition, does not make us who we are. There is a spiritual component that must be considered.

Scripture has a high view of the body–it was created good and for human enjoyment in the service of God. Nevertheless, it declares that the post-fall body suffers all kinds of brokenness, so much so, that Paul defines the body as “the perishable” that will arise “imperishable” on the last day (1 Cor 15:50-56). The greatest deformity the body suffers is sin (Rom 6:11-14), which expresses itself in all kinds of brokenness, physical and spiritual. From this point of view, the normal human state is that of being broken, by sin and its consequences. Because noone escapes this reality the faithful are urged to call upon the elders in times of sickness and sin, both of which disable the human person, that there may be well-being and forgiveness (James 5:14-16).

The body that is sick or stricken by sin, Martin C. Albl argues, is taken up into a wider web of relationships:

“The patient does not experience healing as an isolated individual. The community body, led by the elders, must gather and show its united support through prayer, confession, and public ritual. As integrity is restored to the individual body, so it is reinforced in the community body.

“Beyond the community level, the individual healing has cosmic significance. Healing of a single person does not merely ‘symbolize’ or ‘foreshadow’ his or her eschatological salvation. Rather, the ritual anointing and community prayers move the patient into the realm of both bodily healing and eschatological salvation. The system does not separate the two.” (“‘Are any among you sick?’ The Health Care System in the letter of James,” Journal of Biblical Literature 121.1 [2002]: 142-143.)

The community Albl refers to is, of course, the church, the body of Jesus Christ. That body defines the body and soul of all who are its members by faith. We are not our bodies. Frank is not his body, neither are Judy, George, or Martin, who once told a minister that he was preaching too long, their bodies. All of us, broken in body and soul, may be comforted by the truth that we “belong, body and soul, in life and in death, to (our) faithful Savior Jesus Christ” (Heidelberg Catechism, QA 1).

More on this next month.

What They're Saying

God’s spiritual discipline

“The connection between apatheia and self-giving love (agapé) is crucial. In teaching apatheia as a spiritual discipline, the constant emphasis of the patristic theologians is on growing to be free of irrational feelings and fantasies that stem from self-love, from vanity and wounded pride. That is, apatheia, as either an attribute of God or a Christian virtue in this world and ‘beatitude’ for the world to come, is the opposite of what we normally call an emotional reaction. It is, rather, an aspect of the ‘eternal changelessness’ of divine love, ‘God’s everlasting outpouring,’ flowing in and (sic) from the Godhead and at work also in the human creature.

“Viewed in relation to divine love, it seems clear that the doctrine of apatheia functions to make two crucial assertions about God’s involvement with the world. Negatively, it refutes the possibility that the God known to Israel can ever become estranged from humanity or any part of it–unlike the highly emotional and therefore fickle gods worshiped by the Mesopotamians, the Greeks, or the Romans. Positively, the doctrine of apatheia affirms that God can be genuinely involved in events that happen in time, in human events, without either being formed or diminished by them.

“It is especially apt to consider the patristic teaching of apatheia . . . because I believe that the biblical concept of covenant is a way of making, through the medium of narrative, these same crucial assertions. Covenant is the stabilizing mechanism that allows God to remain profoundly involved in the contingent events of history, responding in various ways to the often distressingly unstable human situations and heart, yet without essential change in either the divine being or the divine disposition toward those whom God has made. The first indication of this function of covenant occurs within the early chapters of Genesis, when the original covenant is established, through Noah, with ‘all flesh’ (Gen 9:17). It is telling that the recognition that hurts God to the heart and leaders to the flood–namely, that ‘every inclination of the thought of [the human] heart is purely evil all the time’ (Gen 6:5)–is the very recognition that, immediately after the flood, moves God to forswear further destruction and enter into covenant with this creature whose heart inclines to evil ‘from his youth’ (8:21). And from this recognition the whole of biblical history unfolds. Now, it is foreseeable that there will be other occasions for God to be ‘hurt to the heart,’ yet covenant represents God’s own renunciation of an emotional reaction. It is God’s choice, one might say, of the spiritual discipline of apatheia.”

Ellen F. Davis, “Vulnerability, the Condition of the Covenant,” in The Art of Reading Scripture (Eerdmans, 2003), 292-293.

Sesquicentennial Reflections

1857 - 2007: From CRC to ACRC?
Arie C. Leder

Since 1880 we have been known as the Christian Reformed Church, even though the adjective “Holland” was still attached at that time. It wasn’t our first name, however. From April 8, 1857, the birth date of the CRC, to 1880, the following names described us: Holland Reformed, True Dutch Reformed, the Christian Seceded Church, the True Holland Reformed Church. The latter name was in use from 1864. Churches were given the freedom not to use “true.” Our first local option decision.

The first hundred years
The variety of names discloses the nascent community’s struggle to define itself in the new world, not only in terms of its experiences in the Netherlands, but also the more recent attempts to distinguish itself from the Dutch Reformed Church (now the RCA) from whom our ancestors seceded in 1857. It was about being true to the Reformed traditions as they understood them.

On April 8, 1907 the CRC celebrated its 50th anniversary at the Auditorium on South Ionia Street in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The gathering, as it was called, consisted of opening and closing prayers, congregational and choral singing in English and Dutch, a poem of welcome, and several short speeches. Rev. Henry Beets delivered the first speech in English: “The Christian Reformed Church in its Origin and Period of Struggle.” The others, delivered in Dutch, were: “The Character of Our People, the Dark and the Light Side (“Het Karakter van ons Volk, naar Schaduw- en Lichtzijde.”) by Rev. I. Van Dellen; “Our Dangers” (Onze Gevaren”) by Rev. H. Van Hoogen (Read by Rev. J. W. Brink because Van Hoogen had died.); “The Christian Reformed Pulpit in America” (De Christelijk Gereformeerde Kansel in Amerika”) by Rev. K. Van Goor; and, “Our Calling and Ideals for the Future” (Onze Roeping en Idealen voor de Toekomst”) by Rev. J. Groen. These and other full length addresses may be found in J. Noordewier, et. al., Gedenkboek van het Vijftigjarig Jubileum der Christelijke Gereformeerde Kerk A.D. 1857-1907 (Grand Rapids: J. B. Hulst and B. Sevensma, 1907.).

By 1907 the CRC was on the way to becoming an American church. The founders of the church had passed on; a younger generation was in charge. The youthful vigor and immaturity of the CRC formed the basis for Van Hoogen’s reflection. He warned the CRC of the potential for recklessness; of the challenges of its diversity–at that time the variety of Dutch backgrounds that made it difficult to work together; and the questioning of the crucial difference between the world and the church so much a part of becoming more American. The CRC must remain, so Van Hoogen, counter-cultural.

Fifty years later Dr. John H. Kromminga reflected on the CRC’s one hundred years in his In The Mirror. An Appraisal of the Christian Reformed Church (Hamilton: Guardian, 1957). By this time post World War 2 immigration to Canada had begun to shape the CRC experience, the Dutch language had disappeared from almost all pulpits in the US and by the 1960s was heard from few pulpits in Canada. Our confessional roots were valued, church life began receiving a neo-Kuyperian sheen, mostly in Canada. But being a church in the world was still a challenge. Kromminga acknowledges that Americanization was a problem for the CRC, but that it also presented new opportunities. The isolation of language had been mostly overcome, but other forms of isolation remained: dependence on the Netherlands, the Reformed distinctiveness as expressed through separate institutions, and the lack of cooperation with other denominations. None of these enable true evangelism. “Isolationism,” he writes, “ fosters a diminished view of the needs of the world . . . has either no conception if the needs of the world or no concern with them” (53). But, “the perils of contact are essentially the perils of conformity.” One of the perils of greater contact in America is losing theological distinctiveness: “One student of American culture has spoken of a recent period in American history when ‘religion prospered while theology slowly went bankrupt.’ The fact is that American religion is theologically illiterate because that which was different was, by silent common consent, not to be mentioned in our democracy” (55).

He concludes his reflection on conformity thus:

“Contact with such [an American] environment must mean one of two things. It will mean conformity or it will mean friction. For theological distinctiveness is diametrically opposed to it. The Christian Reformed Church is lost if it conforms. No one can say in advance whether it can survive the friction which will result it retains its distinctiveness while establishing contact. And yet, in the face of all this, the church cannot rest satisfied with the isolated way.”

“Thus it would be sheer folly to act as if the situation of the Christian Reformed Church were secure and her future established. The realities of life are cruel and disturbing. The only possible course of action seems to be to retain and develop such an isolation as will produce distinctiveness–genuine distinctiveness; and then to proceed with that distinctiveness into aggressive contact. This, at the cost of the ease and tranquility of the denomination, would be a potential source of good, not only to the denomination itself, but to the other churches round about” (58).

From our CRC to ACRC: Ecclesiastical Syntax
We don’t yet know what the 2007 anniversary book of reflections will say about us. This much is true: The CRC of 1957 was not that of 1907, nor is the CRC of 2007 that of 1957. Kromminga’s challenge to make contact with churches outside of the CRC has been successful; it is doubtful that we have retained the theological distinctiveness he charged us to keep. We have had dialogue with the Roman Catholic Church about Lord’s Day 80; we participate in WARC, but NAPARC cancelled our affiliation. Preaching from the Heidelberg Catechism is not what it’s supposed to be. The psalms we sing today are the so-called seven-eleven choruses: snatches of praise phrases sung multiple times. Psalms to “regular” hymn tunes, never mind those in the Genevan tradition, do not characterize CRC congregational singing in the 21st century. We also have a sizable bureaucracy in Grand Rapids which, for better or worse, tries to steer the denomination from one vantage point; classical renewal began without synodical approval but with agency support; and local church councils are more deeply rooted in entrepreneurial management styles and views of the church than the confessions and traditional Reformed church polity envisions. The CRC is also more diversified, beyond the Dutch provinces. On a given Sunday services are conducted in English, Korean, Spanish, Chinese, Hmong, Laotian, and Vietnamese. Few church leaders, however, can speak more than one language. Our orthodoxy is shifting. In 2007 you will more likely get into trouble for political incorrectness than confessional heterodoxy. South of the border we are American, east-coast or west-coast American, West-Michigan or Iowa-American; those who call us Dutch don’t know us at all. We’re not what we were even fifty years ago. Nor are we agreed about which changes are for the better and which are not.

So, maybe a name change is needed. After all since 1880 we’ve had the same name, and many CRC congregations no longer use the denominational name. Apparently the Board of Trustees is also considering a new name (Has Synod asked them to do so?) Why not give ourselves a new name to reflect our post-modern identity in our 150th year? Sam Hamstra suggests we become the ACRC (Association of Christian Reformed Churches, in his “Modest Proposal,” [The Banner, March 2007.]), a proposal that shows how far conformity to the American religious scene–a danger Van Hoogen in 1907 and Kromminga in 1957 warned us against–has taken us. This move is on display in the ecclesiastical syntax. Let me explain.

The pronoun “our” appears 13 times in the 1907 anniversary speech titles: our church, our people, our mission, our publications, our dangers, our calling. “We” had an identity. The future was about us and our ideals. A deep sense of the youthful vigor of “our” community was encourages, then evaluated and judged. Kromminga’s 1957 appraisal is definite: the heritage, the isolation, the dangers of conformity. He reflects an intimate knowledge of a community striving to keep its identity while moving beyond its isolation.

Van Hoogen gave us “our” CRC; Kromminga “the” CRC; Hamstra gives us A-CRC. In 150 years we’ve moved from “our” self-understanding, to a challenge to break our isolation without undermining our theological distinctiveness, to an indefinite sense of our ecclesiastical identity and an openness to change that will not endure the friction, as Kromminga called it, of being true to our theological confession.

Synod’s first local option, in 1864, gave churches the right not to use the word “true” as part of the church’s name; Hamstra’s local option argues for the right of local churches to separate themselves from our church political identity. No more “our” CRC, no more “the” CRC; only an association of local churches doing their own thing. Happy 150th birthday

What They're Saying

A Christian University

“Today there is an intense interest, almost an obsession some would say, in diversity and pluralism. Within the worlds of higher education, a Christian university serves the great good of diversity and pluralism by being a different kind of university. It does not mimic the false pluralism and diversity that pretends our deepest differences make no difference. Rather, it engages within the bond of civility the differences that make the deepest difference.

“Today the Christian university is in crisis. At least in many institutions, there is a dying of the light. The crisis is often described as a crisis of secularization. But that, I would suggest , is not quite right. The secular, the saeculum, is the world of God’s creation and redeeming love. The crisis of the Christian university is more accurately described as a crisis created by the ambition to imitate other kinds of universities that false claim to be universities pure and simple. It is a crisis created by competing to belong to the second tier, or even the third tier, of schools that do not aspire to be Christian universities. It is a crisis created by envying excellence divorced from truth. Enough can never be said in favor of excellence, but it is small comfort for a Christian university to be recognized as being moderately good at being what it did not set out to be in the first place.

“The crisis is most accurately described, I believe, as a crisis of faith. The question that those who lead a Christian university must answer, and answer again every day, is whether the Christian proposal limits or illumines the university’s calling to seek and to serve veritas–to seek and to serve the truth.”

Richard John Neuhaus, “A University of a Particular Kind,” First Things (April 2007), 34-35.