The Flood and baptism… again

In continuing to dig on this issue of who should be baptized I have encountered a number of argument categories. These range from:

  • Biblical—the key arguments, which involve what Scripture itself says (sometimes in clear texts, though we can still debate the proper interpretation; sometimes there are patterns, etc.), to
  • historical arguments, based on things such as the cultural or social context of the events described in Scripture and the practice of the early church, and (for now) finally,
  • weakest of all, arguments based on the effects or outcome of either position.

I just came across a post by Gavin Ortlund during the recent YouTube / X controversy about the Flood of Noah’s day and whether it was global. My own view on that issue aside, what struck me today was the reason he gave for continuing to advocate for the local flood view:

“I know lots of folks who lose their faith on an issue like Noah’s flood, so I’m going to continue to advocate for my convictions on this topic.”

I admire Dr. Ortlund’s willingness to engage on a highly controversial issue among Christians. On this particular issue, I don’t agree with him. I do appreciate what I have observed of his approach to other such controversies elsewhere (having just recently finished his series of discussions with Dr. Jordan B. Cooper about baptism, e.g. on baptismal regeneration).

But the specific reason given above made me think of another connection between the Flood and baptism (besides the Biblical connection). I wonder if this reason isn’t similar to what I hear about the baptism of Christian believers’ infants.

You see, infant baptism perpetuates the same thing it did in Israel. You had a whole bunch of circumcised kids who didn’t know God. Now we have a whole bunch of baptized babies who don’t know God either, if we’re going to carry that over, we get the same result. The true church, however, unlike Israel – Israel was a nation of people – earthly people. The true church is a nation of believers. Whether somebody was baptized as a baby, whether they were confirmed at the age of 12 or not, if they don’t know – if they don’t know God personally through faith in Jesus Christ, they do not belong to the redeemed church.

But there’s this huge confusion about what is the church. Infant baptism just totally throws this into chaos, because the world is full of these baby baptized adults who range everywhere from the hypocritically religious, through the indifferent, to the blasphemous. They’re not in the church. They can’t be included in the church. And if infant baptism saved them, then salvation doesn’t change anybody.

John MacArthur, “A Scriptural Critique of Infant Baptism”

Now to be fair, I don’t think that anyone argues against baptizing Christians’ infants on the basis of this alone. (Dr. MacArthur certainly does not.) But I see this as the weakest argument maybe because it’s not based clearly on Scripture: instead it points to the tragic effects—and they are tragic, and lamentable—of people bringing in babies to be baptized in churches where even if the Gospel is preached and believed, the baby is not brought up in the faith. Baptism is the beginning of Christian discipleship, not a Heaven ticket one grabs on the way to a life of sin. Disciples must be baptized and taught. Scripture does make this clear. A child who is baptized and then left to the world will be spiritually no better off than a child who prays a Sinner’s Prayer and then is likewise denied the “teaching” that Jesus commands.

And I could take this the other direction. I could point out that credobaptistic views sometimes leave Christians’ children confused and weary, wrestling with doubts and fears about their salvation, spending formative years stumbling and without assurance that they belong to the Christ who alone is able to keep them from falling. I could talk about the curious little ones who are brought to meetings of the church and yet taught that they don’t have a place there, or told to obey their parents as though “in the Lord” because God commands this, when they understand that they are not Christians and are without God in the world. But how much of this itself is a Biblical argument for the baptism of believers’ infants? (And some of the godliest parents I personally know hold strongly to credobaptism.)

May God help us all.

On how I care about what others think

It could be more a problem in our shouting social media age, when any idea any person has can be blasted out via the internet to any other internet-connected person, but it surely has been a problem too for as long as people in this cursed world have known other people: it can become too important to one to maintain a certain perception and to be seen in a certain way, to be respected and respectable even at the cost of acting according to one’s preferences or even one’s beliefs. I know that it has been a problem for me.

Sigh.

It does matter, in a way—when one has friends who one cares about and loves and whose opinions one values, one wants them to be happy and at ease with one’s decisions and actions. If I truly had no concern for what others thought about my own change of theological leanings, I’m not sure I would be living in a very Christian manner. I do care, but yet may be I should be careful not to go too very far overboard with my attempts to persuade or convince or demonstrate or prove to everyone I know that actually, I’m not just going with the flow—that I actually have studied the issues—that I actually do pray to God to guide us.

I do care, but how much of this effort is out of love for others and how much is about proving that I really am respectable and to be taken seriously?

And I don’t have time to do that. There is too much that I am called to do. I need to work and raise three children and take care of a wife and be part of a church and possibly do a handful of other things that must come before squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching at the dragging tatters of my reputation.

Sigh.

My problem with the problems with the household argument for infant baptism

“[It] has been remarked that there is a difference between apostolic example and apostolic precepts”, says William MacDonald in his commentary on 1 Corinthians 11. “We are not obligated to do all that the apostles did, but we are most certainly obligated to obey all that they taught.” He was writing about Paul’s teaching on the Lord’s Supper, not about baptism, but the point is well made and applies to either. In the context of baptism, this means that we don’t treat the stories of baptisms in (for example, and primarily) the book of Acts the same as we do the command of the Lord Jesus and the teaching of the apostles.

Bearing that in mind. I nonetheless consider that the New Testament historical accounts, of baptism in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, might function as a sort of check on our views of what that baptism is and to whom it is applied. (Naturally those views are likely to color how we read the historical accounts, so it’s worth being aware of that.) The particular aspect I’ve been pondering lately is the baptism of a household, mentioned twice in Acts (Lydia the Thyatiran seller of purple, and the unnamed Philippian jailer, in chapter 16) and once in 1 Corinthians (Stephanas, in chapter 1). Christians who baptize infants typically consider that these examples support their view.

The problems

On X (formerly Twitter) I came across a link to Peter Goeman’s blog post Are the Household Baptisms an Argument for Infant Baptism? I recommend reading that through before continuing (if you do) with my own meager thoughts.

Dr. Goeman is a Baptist and of course disagrees that the households said to have been baptized in the New Testament constitute support for an infant-including view of baptism. He presents two problems with the argument from the historical household baptisms:

  1. It is likely that slaves—adults—would have been included in the definition of a household. “This is important”, says Dr. Goeman, “because adult conversion and baptism require a profession of faith and confession of one’s sins. Even paedobaptists agree with this. However, it is difficult to see every slave professing faith in Christ at the same time their master does. Many of these households had a significant number of slaves.… Are we to suppose that in each case, every slave professed Christ immediately along with the master of the house?”
  2. There is Scriptural precedent for references to an entire (all, or whole) household specifically excluding one or more members of that household. Dr. Goeman says, “The classic example of this is 1 Samuel 1:21–22.… The story reveals, ‘The man Elkanah and all his house went up to offer to the LORD the yearly sacrifice and to pay his vow’ (v. 21, emphasis added).” Continuing, he points out: “Although the Greek of Samuel uses the same household formula as Acts in verse 21, verse 22 quickly reveals that Hannah stayed behind. The reason Hannah didn’t go up with Elkanah was that she was caring for an infant child. Although the text does not say the child stayed with Hannah, we obviously should not include the child as part of ‘all his house’ that went up to offer the yearly sacrifice.”

In the comments on the post, Scott Cooper brings up additional problems. Roman law “appears to have” barred married soldiers, he writes. “This would have likely applied to Cornelius and the jailer.” In the case of Lydia, he considers that “[as] a ‘seller of purple’ goods, she was likely a wealthy, industrious, businesswoman.” This apparently makes her an unlikely candidate for the occupations of wife or mother. And: “…if she were married, in a patriarchal society, it would be very unlikely for her to have invited a group of men she had just met to her home.”

How problematic are the problems?

What follows is my own meager (meagre?) take on the matter, which you should feel free to discount or to ignore altogether.

First, to respond to the point about slaves. When the question is partly about whether baptism is appropriate for anyone who hasn’t made a personal confession of faith, this seems to me to be near begging the question. Can we assume that each slave was required to make his own free and personal confession of faith prior to baptism, in order to support the view that every person (regardless of relationships) is required to make a free and personal confession of faith prior to baptism? Today, this matter of slaves arises when we discuss whether to baptize the infant or very young children of Christian believers, but today even a man’s own children likely are not viewed as so bound to his household as a slave might have been in the time of Acts. In our modern societies with our heavy emphasis on the life and rights of the individual, perhaps we Christian parents would go so far as to say to our own children, “[Choose] this day whom you will serve”. It may be hard for us to grasp what Joshua meant when he continued, “But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua‬ ‭24‬:‭15‬).

I think that it is just possible that we attribute too great a proportion of individualistic self-determination to the slaves of the New Testament era. Do I think for a moment that Paul or Silas went racing through the Philippian jailer’s house, water in hand, desperately attempting to capture and baptize a shrieking slave as he passionately denied the Gospel that his master had just embraced? No, I do not think that. But neither do I think it likely that any slaves did protest. To the extent that they were included among those baptized, they surely acquiesced to their master’s decision to follow Christ. (That “bondservants” formed a part of the early Church, we know from the command given to them by Paul after he addresses wives, husbands, and children in Ephesians chapters 5 and 6.)

Second, the example of Hannah and Samuel being left behind when otherwise Elkanah’s whole household goes up to offer his sacrifice and vow. If we continue to verse 23 of 1 Samuel 1, we read: “Elkanah her husband said to her, ‘Do what seems best to you; wait until you have weaned him; only, may the Lord establish his word.’ So the woman remained and nursed her son until she weaned him” (emphasis added). Clearly her son stayed behind with her—that was the entire reason she gave her husband for her own staying behind (“As soon as the child is weaned, I will bring him”, verse 22). We know that not every member of Elkanah’s household went up with him because the text tells us that not every member of his household went up with him. These exceptions are told us directly, and are an important part of the story, as the next thing that Hannah does after weaning the child is to bring him up to “[lend] him to the Lord… [as] long as he lives” (verse 28).

I accept that the case of Elkanah’s travel is an example of a term such as “all his house” referring generally, not strictly, to a man’s entire house, because the text calls our attention to the (critical) exceptions to the entirety. If any household members were excepted from the baptisms recorded in Acts, I think that this would similarly have been notable: why were they left out? Did they protest, or not profess? Were they not old enough? Were they not considered so far under the head of the household’s authority that they could be baptized following his or her own belief? But unlike in this instance from 1 Samuel, the New Testament text does not say either that there were exceptions made, or why.

My problem with the problems

The theme running throughout all of these problems—if they are problems—is that they seem to focus on finding exceptions to the concept of “household” (or possibly “house” or “family”) as a thing. Or, more pertinently, they find exceptions to the concept of “household” as a way to refer to individuals in relation to the head of a household.

The Baptist view must deal with the occasions when the authors of the New Testament so used a term such as “household” in order to refer to individuals who were baptized, rather than listing or mentioning the individuals by name. For an infant-including view of baptism, we might say, for example, that the word spoken to the jailer in Philippi—“Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household” (Acts‬ ‭16‬:‭31‬)—provides a clue as to why the text then refers to the baptism of “all his family” (verse 33). Darby went so far as to write, “This was an absolute statement of God, and, if words have meaning, warrants me to claim the salvation of my house in answer to my faith in God.” If we include the infants and children of believers among the proper subjects of baptism, we don’t even need to speculate on the makeup of any individual family mentioned in the text.

In contrast, the Baptist view requires exclusions or exceptions. If the Baptist view is correct, then there must of necessity not have been any infants baptized on any of these occasions, or any children too young to have made each their own profession, or any slaves unless each made clear his or her own decision individually. There can’t have been any of these, despite that none of the Scriptural accounts rule out any. I don’t know if there is a compelling case made that the household of Stephanas included no one under the “age of accountability”, but say that there is one: would it not be a fascinating coincidence if every single household or family said to have been baptized in the New Testament happened to have included no children too young to make a verbal profession of faith?

But the Biblical text describing these baptisms makes no exceptions. And the significance that I see in the Biblical references to the baptisms of households is that the designation “household” describes those over whom the head of the household is in authority—those whom he represents; those for whom he is responsible. This continues in our modern world as well: my toddler children do not have any sacred right of agency over their own selves or bodies such that they get to run out into the street to play while cars fly around the corner, or eat a strict diet of caramels and toaster pastries, or refuse diaper changes. Far more gravely, they do not have a say in the matter of whether I bring them up in the training and admonition of the Lord, or teach them to observe all things that the Lord Jesus commanded (Ephesians 6; Matthew 28).

Do the accounts of baptized households constitute a proof that infants were baptized by the apostles? No, they do not. But I consider that infant-including views of baptism allow a simple reading of the text, without needing to prove either that there likely were or likely weren’t infants included in the mention of any given family or household. Without, as Dr. Goeman says, “[arguing]… that the mention of the entire household always means every member of the household without exception”, I consider an infant-including view of baptism a natural way to understand these accounts.

All things: from Him

“But who am I, and who are my people,
That we should be able to offer so willingly as this?
For all things come from You,
And of Your own we have given You.”

1 Chronicles‬ ‭29‬:‭14‬, NKJV

Though I did not end up following Jon Gabriel in his journey from the megachurch to Eastern Orthodoxy, some time (years?) ago I read with interest his moving account of Swimming the Bosporus. (Read the whole thing, I recommend.)

Tonight I was listening in the car to a beautiful recording of “My Song Is Love Unknown”, and a single line from Mr. Gabriel’s Chapter 6 (“Angels in the Architecture”) came to mind. In describing the beauty of an Orthodox church, he says simply:

“God expresses Himself through the material world, and His people craft the wood and stone to offer it back to Him.”

Is it not that way with all that we offer, from the two mites given by the widow to the thousands of talents of gold and silver given by the leaders of the tribes of Israel, and everything before, and in between, and since?

Everything that we can give or do in worship, too. If there are crosses or candles or organs or choirs of human voices or melodies that they sing or words that are sung to those melodies, these are all out of the abundance of His gifts to us, and from them we give our offering back to Him. If we present our bodies a living sacrifice…

All things come of thee, O LORD, and of thine own have we given thee.

The general idea

Well. I am thinking—have been for some time actually—of doing one of those 30-day experiments. This one would be about getting up “early”, or as folks used to blog about, “early rising”.

The gratuitous context

I need quiet time in the morning—must get Bible reading, and need quiet time to pray too. I have things to do (sometimes work work, sometimes not). I have books to read. I have drivel to write. I have various other ideas the execution of which would take time and I don’t manage time well. And I have a number of persons to do mountains better at caring for, and God willing, another of those arriving later this year.

The mystery activity of late January was a baby checkup. 🙂

The timid plan

Possibly it’s 20 days I should be trying for. I don’t know. I think I’ll try for 30, because at this point 20 seems so tinily monumental that why not try for 10 days more at that point.

So: 30 days of getting up before noon at [REDACTED]. (I will also accept one hour later than that.)

To do this sustainably, I must actually get to bed before midnight by [REDACTED]. Ideally it would be an hour or so before then even, but that’s the latest. Ideally. If I do miss [REDACTED], then I should still try to get up by at most an hour after [REDACTED], but then I need to try to get to bed that night before [REDACTED].

The tentative execution

I hope to start tomorrow.

So good evening, gentle readers, wherever you may be. Even if most of you reside in my imagination. 🥱

Interesting

Jim Blackburn, “Was the Early Church ‘Catholic’ or Just ‘Christian’?”:

Some might claim that Ignatius intended to use the term “Catholic Church” not as a proper name for the Church, but only as a general reference to the larger assembly of Christians. If so, then the universal assembly had no proper name yet, but “Catholic Church” continued in use until it became the proper name of the one church that Christ built on Peter and his successors.

… Given the unbroken chain of succession at Antioch—from Peter (sent by Christ) to Evodius to Ignatius—if any Christian today wishes to identify with the biblical Christians of the first century mentioned in Acts 11, it follows quite logically that he must also identify with those same Christians’ universal assembly: the Catholic Church.

Thomas Hopko, “The One True Church”:

And here we would definitely say the Church that we say we believe in is the Eastern Orthodox Church. It’s not the Roman Catholic Church. It’s not an Oriental Orthodox Church. It’s not one of the Protestant churches. It’s not the Anglican Church. …

The Church has what I used to call when I used to teach dogmatic theology, it’s got its “authoritative witnesses.” There are witnesses, testimonies, to this truth, the first of which is the holy Scripture and the Bible itself. And this is our faith, and what we would say is, “Yes, indeed, we think that only this Church holds it completely, truly, fully, and rightly.”

John MacArthur, “The Manhattan Declaration”:

Instead of acknowledging the true depth of our differences, the implicit assumption (from the start of the document until its final paragraph) is that Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, Protestant Evangelicals and others all share a common faith in and a common commitment to the gospel’s essential claims. The document repeatedly employs expressions like “we [and] our fellow believers”; “As Christians, we . . .”; and “we claim the heritage of . . . Christians.” That seriously muddles the lines of demarcation between authentic biblical Christianity and various apostate traditions.

Dear Jim,

I think that I quite understand you. I see you in a tumultuous time in life, having children to support and a wife to care for while you navigate what I think is a very significant transition. I am not even talking really about the theological changes; none of those are shocking, to me anyway. It’s that you’re (I use the term advisedly) a man, no longer a boy, now, and from boy to man is a transition. Perhaps you were unprepared?

You write that you feel adrift and without the “support group” that you’ve had all your life. Well my dear fellow, can you imagine a time when you’re yourself leading a support group for someone else? It is all well and good, in fact needful, for one to have minute direction in every decision of life—to not even have many decisions to make in life at the very beginning, though one naturally ought to have more of those as one matures—when one is a child. You are no longer a child, I think is what you’re coming up against. You have choices to make and now a family to lead, and you’ve spent so long awaiting the decision to be handed down to you that when it comes time for you, after prayer, to do the handing down yourself, you’re afraid.

Have you ever thought much about the disciples of Jesus when they set out across the sea with Him, and He was asleep? It struck me long ago when I read His response to them, after the great windstorm arose and the boat began to fill with water as the waves beat into it, and He had gotten up and rebuked the wind and told the sea to be still—He said to them, “Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?” Any mere mortal such as you or I or the Twelve or any other could have told you that naturally, when the waves begin to fill your boat and the storm rages and no land is in sight, you are going to sink and you’ll probably die. How would we not be fearful then? I pray that in such a case I will remember that the One who tells me “Let us cross over to the other side” is with me and that He is able to take me there. May it not be said of me that I have no faith (Mark 4:35-41).

And speaking of praying, do that, I recommend. Pray your heart out, and I will do the same. If only I can be assured that He is leading me then I do not have reason to fear. He is capable, not only of keeping and leading us, but of giving us peace along the way (Philippians 4:7).

*

What feels like a lifetime ago—but it was only about eight years ago—missionary work occupied a great deal of my heart and thoughts. I used to read about the Judsons, Adoniram and Ann, and the few who traveled with them on their pioneering voyage as some of the first missionaries sent out by the church in the United States. There weren’t many on that trip and not multitudes more awaiting them in the lands where they served, lands so far from home that a letter could take months to arrive, if it wasn’t lost at sea and never arrived at all. Judson lost his wife, you know. Twice he experienced that loss.

I thought as you face this being adrift and seemingly alone (but not alone) in the great sea of this life… having lost reassuring agreement with the ones you so long looked to and needed to be on the same page as, theologically… you and I could learn from the example of these brave followers of Jesus; and that we could gain some perspective on our own trembling. Here is a part of a letter that Ann Judson wrote to the ones at home as they were setting out. She was 23 years old.

My heart often sinks within me, when I think of living among a people whose tender mercies are cruel. But, when I reflect upon their miserable state, as destitute of the Gospel, and that it is easy for our heavenly Father to protect us in the midst of danger, I feel willing to go, and live and die among them; and it is our daily prayer that it may please God to enable us to continue in that savage country. Farewell to the privileges and conveniences of civilized life! Farewell to refined Christian society! We shall enjoy these comforts no more; but Burmah will be a good place to grow in grace, to live near to God, and be prepared to die. O, my dear parents and sisters, how little you know how to estimate your enjoyments, in your quiet homes, with all the comforts of life! How little you know how to prize dear Christian society, as you have never been deprived of it! How little you can realize the toils and perplexities of traversing the ocean; and how little you can know of the solid comfort of trusting in God, when dangers stand threatening to devour! But these privations, these dangers and toils, and these comforts, are ours, and we rejoice in them, and think it an inestimable privilege that our heavenly Father has given us, in allowing us to suffer for his cause.

I trust that their God and ours will preserve us, and will lead us safe to home.

Reminiscently,
Ben

One solitary key to deep friendship

Have I mentioned (I have) that I spend a deal of time thinking about friendship? I do. I cannot say that I have worlds of experience in the matter; in this respect I may be somewhat like Mike Jackson, who “did not make friends very quickly or easily, though he had always had scores of acquaintances”.

In any case, I do think about the concept—what friendship entails, what leads to it, why I don’t have more experience of it—fairly often. I haven’t yet arrived at any Grand Unified Theory or anything. I still ponder, off and on, what components are necessary. What patterns are there? (I think of David and Jonathan, Bruchko and Bobby, the other examples from history or literature that I presumably could cite if I were more widely read, and so forth.)

And as I say, I don’t have it all figured out. But I consider that I do have one single aspect nailed down for sure. There must be other requirements and I must track them down, but I know that a deep friendship requires for sure:

A friend who speaks just the same about you when you’re present as when you’re not.

Sometimes I feel like art is pointless

Sometimes I feel like art is pointless, what is the use, why even bother, why not give up even trying or wanting to try. Sometimes it all seems a waste of time and that I maybe should just leave it alone and move on—not that I know how to move on. To match my mood I turn on Rich Mullins, for the first time in a long time.

Then I wonder if Rich Mullins would have ever gotten his message to seep into my sluggish and beaten-down consciousness if he had not written and sung.

God in Heaven understands.