Pyramids, friends, friend cakes

Speaking of friendship. The brilliant and hilarious Shawn Powers, a couple of years ago:

It’s those people that make me both happy and sad in equal measures. I want them to be in my top cake layer, but I don’t interact with them often enough for me to feel comfortable leaning on them. They don’t know me well enough (very likely my fault) to lean on me when things get difficult. I WOULD totally be there if/when they need me, and I’m pretty sure they would be there for me — but again, I’m so bad at letting my guard down, that most people I consider friends don’t fully know me, and in turn, I don’t fully know them.

I think about this kind of thing a lot.

Read the whole thing, I would recommend.

Is a blog without readers really a blog?

Jeff Atwood famously said, back in 2006 when blogs mattered and people cared what a blog was, that a blog without comments is not a blog. Now that I’ve finally set aside my fanciful goals in a website, abandoned static site generators and self-hosting, and just gone with WordPress.com, I’ve left comments enabled and so I guess in that sense, this is indeed a blog. But don’t blogs also have, you know, multiple people who read them?

I think the classic tradeoff is niche vs. personal. I say “classic” because the recognition goes back to at least the 2000s as well, and it seems to apply to any would-be blog:

  • Niche: focus on a specific topic or combination of topics. This works well for a professional website. You can reasonably advertise your website in professional spaces such as LinkedIn, and you can reasonably expect to gradually build up a trickle of regular visitors who are specifically interested in your chosen topic.
  • Personal: write about what interests you, as it interests you. You get regular visitors if you’re famous, or have many kind Web-using friends or family.

In proportion to my having historically been drawn toward the niche approach, what’s weird is that the blogs which have truly drawn me in are the emphatically and unabashedly personal. And after years of starting and discarding websites of my own, the one I’m sticking with is (best I can) just that.

I think it’s because if I read someone for long enough and appreciate what he or she writes enough, I begin to care about him or her as a person. And you get to know someone through a “personal” blog in a way you don’t through a typical “professional.” People do technical writing and Vim scripting and web development and book authoring, but people are so much more than any of those “niches,” whether the niches be passion or profession.

Another angle to this question: when I read someone who I care about—either because I know him in real life, or because I’ve developed care for him through reading his blog for 13 years—it doesn’t tend to matter what the topic is, I am interested in what he says. (Particularly good writers are that way, too. Perhaps I just tend to read such people.)

Perhaps, setting aside fame and authority and a notable platform from which to address masses—heights I formerly thought I dreamt of—there is a chance here to spark or fan genuine human relationship (maybe especially for those of us who, so far from wearing our emotions on our shirtsleeves, carry them around in a dump truck and stand prepared to bury the first sympathetic passerby). Perhaps this fascination with personal blogs, and my at-long-last settling on one myself, are just a part of my painful and long-lived search for… friendship.

Perhaps I will blog about that some day…

My teeth are sobbing

I started this at the dentist’s office, waiting for the dentist to arrive after having suffered perhaps 80 minutes of jaw-droppingly exquisite agony at the capable hands of the dental hygienist, and having departed the premises am now finishing this post in the parking lot.

After speaking with (and being treated by) the aforementioned professionals, helpful tips come to mind:

  • Floss.
  • Get your teeth cleaned regularly.
  • Use an electric toothbrush.
  • If you misplace the charger for your electric toothbrush, locate it and continue using the electric toothbrush.
  • Actually floss. No, really.
  • When the dental professional says “open wide”, be aware that actually you can open wider than that, as he or she may shortly demonstrate to you with the aid of a tiny medieval torture device, I mean dental scraper. Or pick. Or miniature pickaxe. It’s something small and superbly sharp and then my teeth were all wailing like 30 minutes later.

Apparently I continue to have inflammation issues, so the lesson learned is that depending on how the next six months go for me, teeth-wise (or gum-wise), I may next time have (instead of a standard cleaning) a “deep cleaning.” I’m not sure I grasp that, other than that the “deep” to me suggests somehow more pain than the simple “cleaning” I just experienced. Perhaps they take you outside and fasten each tooth individually to a pickup truck and then having extracted it, polish it off and reinsert it using hot glue. It’s not clear to me.

OK. I am now off to locate Lily and the small people and subsequently (the idea was) to locate us all some dinner. Happy Dentistry Appreciation Day, everyone.

How to be an absolute fool in 2024

Here’s how I did it: I didn’t regularly and personally read the Bible.

OCD and my other mental weirdnesses weren’t a great help here. I am a great fan of portable things—especially of the ultimate in portability, which would be pocket-sized things— and for years I tried to find a pocket Bible. In the same way that years ago, if I’d miss a day in my reading plan, I’d start over in Genesis 1 the next day; in the same way that if I woke a few minutes after my 4 or 5 am alarm, I’d consider that I had failed at early rising that day and give up and go back to sleep; in the same way that I face inward tumult over word choice while writing on a blog in which I freely name various examples of my OCD and other mental weirdnesses, I had put off beginning a regular habit of Bible reading until I had found the perfect pocket Bible to read from. Because then I could read anywhere, you see!

Well. I’ve given that up now, and am using my iPhone, which for most of the past 7 years has been in my pocket all day anyway and had access to a number of fine English translations and variable font sizes (and fonts) and search and bookmarks and various highlight colors and all kinds of other helpful abilities. My long search for a pocket paper Bible was no fair excuse. I was a fool.

At the present moment I am six days behind in a chronological Bible reading plan from Blue Letter Bible, in the YouVersion Bible app, hoping to catch up in the next few months. I recommend this (the reading, not the falling behind).

By the way, in my slow journey to acceptance of moving from paper Bible reading to iPhone Bible reading, an episode of the Ask Pastor John podcast from Desiring God, How Do You Use Your iPhone and iPad in Christian Growth? (the transcript—I don’t often actually listen to podcasts), was encouraging to me.

Scratching the surface of Wodehouse

Currently almost if not everything in my stack of books to read (have I mentioned that I’ve started reading some paper books again? It’s splendid) is about theological issues, and I make slow progress on that stack. I need to find more time to read. I had some fanciful ideas of “book a week” (or more) in 2024, but at this rate, a book a month may be ambitious…

So far I don’t get much fiction in except for P. G. Wodehouse, some of whose earlier work is available free on Project Gutenberg. I’ve only read some of the Jeeves novels and then… everything I could find about Ronald Eustace Psmith.

Good grief. I sometimes think I’m like an uneducated, sloppily-dressed, non-smoking twenty-first century Psmith without a monocle. That is to say, I realize that I’m eccentric and that I’ve often exhibited the fault of talking much too much.

…let us not forget that but for that timely interruption I should have gone on for about another hour. I am like that. My friends have frequently told me that when once I start talking it requires something in the nature of a cataclysm to stop me.

— Psmith in Leave It To Psmith

Hmm. Project Gutenberg books I tend to read on my iPhone, the HTML off their website. For fiction I don’t have much of anything in the way of paper books.

But then again, I’ve not read much fiction until recently anyway. I’ve fairly scratched the Wodehousian surface—what other authors should I give a try next?

What is baptism? Putting the question to John and Charles

Well we only began to visit an Anglican church (a parish of the Reformed Episcopal Church—where, I just recently learned, Moody Bible Institute president James M. Gray was a pastor!) in October, and started to learn about the various differences between my own Plymouth Brethren background and traditional Anglican beliefs a little later. I remember that the first really big difference, at least the first one that struck me as a potential roadblock to our joining, was infant baptism. (I’ve since read that at least some in the Exclusive Brethren do baptize the infants of believers, but I’ve never heard of it among the Open Brethren, with whom I grew up.)

This I consider an important point: I don’t believe that there are two baptisms, one for believing adults and one for their infant children. Paul wrote to the Ephesian church that just as there is one Lord and one faith, there is one baptism:

There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.

Ephesians 4:4–6 (NKJV)

This matters vastly (I think) to the debate over whether to baptize Christian believers’ infants: we cannot co-opt the one baptism to serve just any other purpose, however well-intentioned. I’ve said to someone during these last few months of digging into the issue that I know my children belong to God, and I would be happy to declare that or make that known in some meaningful or official way. I understand that some churches hold “baby dedications” for this purpose. But if Christian baptism does not extend to infants, then I have no business “borrowing” it to fulfill such a purpose. Aside from being (I believe) wrong in the first place, that would not be true baptism, and my children would later in life—after making each his or her own individual profession of faith—have to be truly baptized for the first time, as my Brethren or Baptist friends might say.

But what is baptism? I’ve been asked at least once to describe what I believe it does and… I’m in the middle of digging on the topic. I need to know what baptism is before I can conclude that it does or does not pertain to my little children.

And as a related question: how am I to understand Biblical descriptions of baptism such as the following? (All Scripture quotations are from the NKJV.)

  • “Then Peter said to them, ‘Repent, and let every one of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’” (‭‭Acts‬ ‭2‬:‭38‬)
  • “Or do you not know that as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death?” (‭Romans‬ ‭6‬:‭3‬)‬‬
  • “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.” (‭‭Galatians‬ ‭3‬:‭27‬)‬‬
  • “There is also an antitype which now saves us—baptism (not the removal of the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience toward God), through the resurrection of Jesus Christ…” (‭I Peter‬ ‭3‬:‭21‬)

I just want to contrast two views here. I know there are more than two, yes. 🙂 But I may be noticing a pattern among advocates of the more Baptist view and among advocates of (for example) the Anglican view, and though I know that there is only one baptism, I don’t think that the two sides in this debate agree on what it is.

Passive picture painted by the believer

This is what I held to (though without deep study of my own on the issue) ever since I had a belief about baptism. I think it’s what has been called the “Bare Token” view: baptism is a picture of my identification with Christ in His death and resurrection, and a command of the Lord Jesus—I must be baptized. But baptism “does” nothing.

Here is Charles Spurgeon’s description of baptism:

…Just as our Saviour said—“This is my body,” when it was not his body, but bread; yet, inasmuch as it represented his body, it was fair and right according to the usage of language to say, “Take, eat, this is my body.” And so, inasmuch as baptism to the believer representeth the washing of sin—it may be called the washing of sin—not that it is so, but that it is to saved souls the outward symbol and representation of what is done by the power of the Holy Spirit, in the man who believes in Christ.

What connection has this baptism with faith? I think it has just this, baptism is the avowal of faith; the man was Christ’s soldier, but now in baptism he puts on his regimentals. The man believed in Christ, but his faith remained between God and his own soul. In baptism he says to the baptizer, “I believe in Jesus Christ;” he says to the Church, “I unite with you as a believer in the common truths of Christianity;” he saith to the onlooker, “Whatever you may do, as for me, I will serve the Lord.” It is the avowal of his faith.

Next, we think baptism is also to the believer a testimony of his faith; he does in baptism tell the world what he believes. “I am about,” saith he, “to be buried in water. I believe that the Son of God was metaphorically baptized in suffering: I believe he was literally dead and buried.” To rise again out of the water sets forth to all men that he believes in the resurrection of Christ. There is a showing forth in the Lord’s Supper of Christ’s death, and there is a showing forth in baptism of Christ’s burial and resurrection. It is a type, a sign, a symbol, a mirror to the world: a looking-glass in which religion is as it were reflected. We say to the onlooker, when he asks what is the meaning of this ordinance, “We mean to set forth our faith that Christ was buried, and that he rose again from the dead, and we avow this death and resurrection to be the ground of our trust.”

Again, baptism is also Faith’s taking her proper place. It is, or should be one of her first acts of obedience. Reason looks at baptism, and says, “Perhaps there is nothing in it; it cannot do me any good.” “True,” says Faith, “and therefore will I observe it. If it did me some good my selfishness would make me do it, but inasmuch as to my sense there is no good in it, since I am bidden by my Lord thus to fulfil all righteousness, it is my first public declaration that a thing which looks to be unreasonable and seems to be unprofitable, being commanded by God, is law, is law to me. … The very simplicity and apparent uselessness of the ordinance should make the believer say, ‘Therefore I do it because it becomes the better test to me of my obedience to my Master.’”

Sermon on “Baptismal Regeneration” (1864)

Notice the repeated references to the believer’s speaking out: “he says to the baptizer”, “he says to the Church”, “he saith to the onlooker”. “We mean to set forth our faith that Christ was buried, and that he rose again from the dead”.

I am not joking, I used to wonder, when I was smaller: if a baptism takes place without witnesses (ideally unbelievers) present, what is the point? If my baptism is a public profession where I identify myself with Christ’s death and resurrection and I speak to the baptizer, the Church, the onlooker that I have faith in Christ, ought I not to want a crowd to watch?

Notice also the phrase “[act] of obedience”. Now I do not deny that to be baptized as a believer is to obey the Lord. But this specific phrase was one I heard fairly often growing up, in reference to baptism, and I’ve lately wondered if that wasn’t partly because we believed that baptism “does” nothing. If God doesn’t do it, it must be that we do it; we cannot do it in order to have anything, and nothing about us can change when we do it. Why do we do it? Because the Lord commanded it. That is certainly the only reason we need to do anything, but consider what Spurgeon says just after:

Reason looks at baptism, and says, “Perhaps there is nothing in it; it cannot do me any good.” “True,” says Faith, “and therefore will I observe it. If it did me some good my selfishness would make me do it, but inasmuch as to my sense there is no good in it, since I am bidden by my Lord thus to fulfil all righteousness, it is my first public declaration that a thing which looks to be unreasonable and seems to be unprofitable, being commanded by God, is law, is law to me. … The very simplicity and apparent uselessness of the ordinance should make the believer say, ‘Therefore I do it because it becomes the better test to me of my obedience to my Master.’”

This is consistent with the understanding I had of baptism all my life: it is a command from the Lord Jesus, and I do it because He commands it. It is a symbol or illustration of my being buried and rising with Christ, which has already happened in the past (since I am not to be baptized until I believe and thus have assurance that I am saved). Every Scripture reference to my being buried with Christ into death, putting on Christ, receiving remission of sins, and being saved, I took as meaning “as is pictured in your baptism”.

Visible, faith-stimulating word from God

And now for what I see as the main alternative understanding. I was recently struck by some pieces of John Stott’s article “The Evangelical Doctrine of Baptism” (1964), and I think it is an adequate introduction to this view.

Stott begins, in the section “The Meaning of Baptism”:

The best way to introduce the meaning of baptism is to assert that both the sacraments of the gospel are essentially sacraments of grace, that is, sacraments of divine initiative, not of human activity. The clearest evidence of this in the case of baptism is that, in the New Testament, the candidate never baptizes himself, but always submits to being baptized by another. In his baptism, he is a passive recipient of something that is done to him.

There’s, if not a definition, a category to describe baptism: a sacrament. This is not a word that I heard, understood, or accepted in my Brethren background. The ACNA catechism says:

A sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. God gives us the sign as a means by which we receive that grace and as a tangible assurance that we do in fact receive it. (Genesis 17:1– 21; John 6:53–58; Romans 2:25–29; 1 Corinthians 10:16; 1662 Catechism)

Stott cites the Thirty-Nine Articles to explain:

…the Articles refer to baptism as not only a sign of grace but a means of grace; and not only a sign, but an effectual sign of grace (Article 25), ‘by the which God doth work invisibly in us, and doth not only quicken, but also strengthen and confirm our faith in him’. Since a sacrament is a visible word, and it is the function of God’s word to arouse faith (Rom 10:17), the sacraments stimulate our faith to lay hold of the blessings which they signify and to which they entitle us.

Then having begun with the assertion that baptism represents divine initiative and not human activity, he gives to the question “what grace of God does it signify”? a “threefold” answer:

  • union with Christ (Romans 6:3–4)
  • forgiveness of sins (Acts 2:38, 22:16; 1 Corinthians 6:11; Titus 3:5)
  • the gift of the Spirit (Matthew 3:11; Acts 2:38–39)

And finally (for my purposes), forgive me if I quote at some length from the section “The Effect of Baptism”:

The question may be asked why, if baptism does not by itself confer the graces it signifies (but rather a title to them), the Bible and Prayer Book sometimes speak as if they did. I have already mentioned such phrases as ‘baptized into Christ’ (Rom 6:3), ‘as many as were baptized into Christ did put on Christ’ (Gal 3:27), ‘baptism saves us’ (1 Peter 3:21), and ‘this child is regenerate’ (Book of Common Prayer).

The answer is really quite simple. It is that neither the Bible nor the Prayer Book envisages the baptism of an unbeliever; they assume that the recipient is a true believer. And since ‘baptism and faith are but the outside and the inside of the same thing’ (James Denney), the blessings of the New Covenant are ascribed to baptism which really belong to faith (Gal 3:26, 28). Jesus had said ‘he that believes and is baptized shall be saved’, implying that faith would precede baptism. So a profession of faith after hearing the gospel always preceded baptism in Acts. For instance, ‘they that received the word were baptized’ (2:41), ‘they believed Philip preaching… and were baptized’ (8:12), ‘Lydia gave heed to what was said by Paul. And when she was baptized…’ (16:14, 15), ‘believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved…’ (16:31-3).

It is the same in the Prayer Book service. There is no baptism in the Church of England except the baptism of a professing believer, adult or infant. The adult candidate’s declaration of repentance, faith and surrender is followed by baptism and the declaration of regeneration. The same is true of an infant in the 1662 service, where it is not the godparents who speak for the child so much as the child who is represented as speaking through his sponsors. The child declares his or her repentance, faith and surrender, and desire for baptism. The child is then baptized and declared regenerate. So he is regenerate, in the same sense as he is a repentant believer in Jesus Christ, namely in the language of anticipatory faith or of sacraments.

It is in this sense too that we must understand the Catechism statement ‘I was made a child of God’. It is sacramental language. I was ‘made’ a child of God in baptism, because baptism gave me a title to this privilege, not because baptism conferred this status on me irrespective of whether I believed or not.

Conclusion: I have a lot to learn

And that’s whichever way you slice it.

Note: This entire post was inspired by Phil at Theology Thoughts, who in his fascinating series on baptism demonstrates the difference in (specifically) the Baptist and Presbyterian understandings and in the process cites the Spurgeon sermon I mention here.

If I don’t get over this wretched OCD I’ll never get a post up

So, yeah, a blog. My second this year, in fact—created and deleted one on write.as earlier this year. (And it’s not even February…)

And yeah… OCD. It turns out, one of the more incapacitating manifestations of my own OCD is an impossible fixation on specific words and phrases, where I can hardly type a sentence without my brain calling an emergency meeting of my internal Every Word Must Precisely Express The Exact Meaning That I Would Be Communicating Given Ten Years To Think About It committee. This, in terms of blogging, can make things mildly tricky, as you might imagine.

Anyway. I am off to begin weekday activities, not least of which is working. The plan for today also includes one special activity, which I can’t name at the moment but on the theme of which, God willing, I’ll be posting a deal more before too crazy long…

Infant baptism: just give me one verse

All Scripture quotes are from the New King James Version. Originally posted on The Blog As Best As I Remember It.

Perhaps the most common objection to the practice of infant baptism is occasionally expressed thus: “Just give me one verse.” This of course refers to the famous silence of Scripture, at least on a cursory reading, about baptizing the infants of Christian believers, as we don’t have a clear instance of specific instruction about baptizing babies or an example of an infant specifically being baptized. And if we are looking for an explicit statement requiring or recording the baptism of believers’ infant children, we indeed won’t find a clear “proof text.” (Hence the past—at least—several centuries’ worth of controversy about the validity of this practice.)

In fact, (speaking in these terms) Scripture may indeed be notably silent in this area. But if so, then (in that sense) it seems to be silent in multiple aspects, and I’m not sure that we often consider some of them. Let us cast brief glances.

Belief as a requirement for baptism

Must one believe before one can be baptized?

What kind of a question is that?, I hear me wondering. (Sorry—I may occasionally address myself, and my lifelong view of baptism, out loud here.)

Apparently it is a question. I found this fascinating, by J. C. Ryle in Knots Untied (from the chapter on Baptism):

In reply to this argument, I ask to be shown a single text which says that nobody ought to be baptized until he repents and believes. I shall ask in vain. The texts just quoted prove conclusively that grown-up people who repent and believe when missionaries preach the Gospel to them, ought at once to be baptized. But they do not prove that their children ought not to be baptized together with them, even though they are too young to believe. I find St. Paul baptized “the household of Stephanas” (1 Cor. I. 16); but I do not find a word about their believing at the time of their baptism. The truth is that the often-quoted texts, “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved,”—and “Repent ye, and be baptized,” will never carry the weight that Baptists lay upon them. To assert that they forbid any one to be baptized unless he repents and believes, is to put a meaning on the words which they were never meant to bear. They leave the whole question of infants entirely out of sight. The text “nobody shall be baptized except he repents and believes,” would no doubt have been a very conclusive one. But such a text cannot be found!

Obviously, in believer-baptism-only circles, this requirement is the entire point. You are not to baptize anyone who is not a believer, meaning he (truly) believes. If he has believed, he has been born again, and thus must be baptized.

But therein lies the fly between the ointment and a hard place: how do we know about any specific individual that he has truly believed and therefore has actually been born again? (If we think so now and therefore baptize him, and he later appears to never have truly been born again, then once he really is born again, we must baptize him a second time, because he has not yet been baptized as a believer.)

Regeneration as a prerequisite to discipleship

I rather appreciate my heritage coming from a believer-baptism-only, low church, American non-denominational background. Yet I have also come, recently, to appreciate the terms “visible church” (all who profess faith in Christ, clearly visible or discernible to all of us on earth) and “invisible church” (those who truly have been born again), which were not terms I often heard as I grew up. I wonder if we could find this distinction helpful when reading through the account of the church in the book of Acts, as well as when reading the epistles.

I also think that this type of distinction—all professors vs. true believers—may sometimes be useful when we read or use the term “disciple”. For example, consider what happened in John 6 after Jesus taught the necessity of eating His flesh and drinking His blood:

From that time many of His disciples went back and walked with Him no more.

Gathering in meetings of local churches today, are there not sometimes false professors, wavering or uncertain souls, as well as born-again believers? We wish it were not so, of course. Yet consider the Lord Jesus’s parable of the sower: the one who received seed on stony places “receives it with joy; yet he has no root in himself, but endures only for a while” (Matthew 13:20-21). Consider the parable of the wheat and the tares (Matthew 13:24-30):

Another parable He put forth to them, saying: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field; but while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat and went his way. But when the grain had sprouted and produced a crop, then the tares also appeared. So the servants of the owner came and said to him, ‘Sir, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have tares?’ He said to them, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The servants said to him, ‘Do you want us then to go and gather them up?’ But he said, ‘No, lest while you gather up the tares you also uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest, and at the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, “First gather together the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them, but gather the wheat into my barn.”’”

In my own experience, in the Christian denominations that I was raised in, there was no “visible church” and “invisible church” distinction: to become a disciple, you must be born again. How can you tell if someone else (not yourself) has been born again? By their fruit, of course. Their status as all of “believer”, “Christian”, “disciple”, and “part of the church” all hinged on the specific moment of conversion, a definite, singular, (when you think about it) humanly-unknowable moment when God gives a new heart and new life and the person is born again. We usually connected this to a prayer for salvation, and of course to belief in the Gospel. Whether the prayer was sincere or the belief genuine, everyone would know by observing the person’s life after that point.

So deeply rooted is this view that in a family holding to believer-only baptism, a child may be born and grow up saturated in the teaching of the Gospel (which he believes implicitly as soon as he can understand it), pray early to be saved (on the understanding that he can’t be saved until he has prayed a prayer), and be told that he is now a Christian—only to misbehave seriously enough a day or two later that before long, he is told he is not a Christian and the proof is his disobedience and rebellion. Then he can spend the next 10 or 12 or 16 years repeatedly praying for salvation, trying to believe “harder”, and working to live as a Christian should but so often failing, and all the while be convinced that he cannot possibly be a believer because if he were, he would surely be living like one by now! Baptism for this child is so far away as to be not worth even thinking about. It would be the crown to perhaps years of working to first prove his status as an actual “disciple”.

Contrast this with any of the Biblical examples we have of a Christian baptism. Take Lydia, or the jailer and his family, in Acts 16, or Simon the sorcerer or the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8, or the Corinthians hearing of Crispus’s conversion in Acts 18. Each of these believed, was baptized, and seemingly then became part of the church. We read of no pre-baptism trial period, during which their lives were observed for evidence of true conversion. They believed and were baptized, and then we can safely assume that most began to gather with other local members of the church.

At such gatherings of the early church, those assembled might have heard this, written by the apostle Peter:

…giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love. For if these things are yours and abound, you will be neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. For he who lacks these things is shortsighted, even to blindness, and has forgotten that he was cleansed from his old sins.

Therefore, brethren, be even more diligent to make your call and election sure, for if you do these things you will never stumble; for so an entrance will be supplied to you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Or this, written by the apostle Paul:

Moreover, brethren, I do not want you to be unaware that all our fathers were under the cloud, all passed through the sea, all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank of that spiritual Rock that followed them, and that Rock was Christ. But with most of them God was not well pleased, for their bodies were scattered in the wilderness.

Now these things became our examples, to the intent that we should not lust after evil things as they also lusted. And do not become idolaters as were some of them. As it is written, “The people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play.” Nor let us commit sexual immorality, as some of them did, and in one day twenty-three thousand fell; nor let us tempt Christ, as some of them also tempted, and were destroyed by serpents; nor complain, as some of them also complained, and were destroyed by the destroyer. Now all these things happened to them as examples, and they were written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the ages have come.

Or this, from the epistle to the Hebrews:

For if we sin willfully after we have received the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful expectation of judgment, and fiery indignation which will devour the adversaries. Anyone who has rejected Moses’ law dies without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. Of how much worse punishment, do you suppose, will he be thought worthy who has trampled the Son of God underfoot, counted the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified a common thing, and insulted the Spirit of grace? For we know Him who said, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord. And again, “The Lord will judge His people.” It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

But recall the former days in which, after you were illuminated, you endured a great struggle with sufferings: partly while you were made a spectacle both by reproaches and tribulations, and partly while you became companions of those who were so treated; for you had compassion on me in my chains, and joyfully accepted the plundering of your goods, knowing that you have a better and an enduring possession for yourselves in heaven. Therefore do not cast away your confidence, which has great reward.

Could not any member of the congregation have heard these words and heeded the warnings, learned from the examples of “our fathers” the people of Israel, made his or her call and election sure? But suppose one were to pay no heed, refuse to learn, and not make one’s call and election sure? Was one then not part of the church to whom the epistle was written?

Relevant to our discussion here, had such ones never been baptized?

My point is not that a born-again believer can be lost, for he cannot (John 10:27-29). My point is that new disciples were baptized, and we have no evidence at all that the apostles themselves first set aside time to determine the genuineness of those disciples’ conversions. Because we as humans cannot know the heart, the standard of “only baptize true believers” in practice results in “only baptize credible professors” (and, sometimes, in re-baptism later on). If this was the apostles’ standard, is it not interesting that in the New Testament, we are never told of anyone being baptized in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, twice? And how are we to understand these warnings in the epistles?

The separate conversions and subsequent baptisms of believers’ children

In his epistles to the Colossian and Ephesian churches, Paul instructs children to obey their parents. In the epistle to the Ephesians, Paul says to “obey your parents in the Lord”. Surely these children were considered members of the church, alongside their parents. But since when were they considered so?

We might respond: “Paul only addressed children who had reached an age of reason—only they could have understood and obeyed the commands.” But at best, this would link the age of reason (or perhaps “age of accountability”) to a child’s being a member of the church: Paul doesn’t distinguish between believing and unbelieving children, or between baptized and unbaptized. He simply writes to “children”. Would every child have made a credible profession of faith by, at, or soon after the time he or she was able to understand the reading of Ephesians 6:1-3 or Colossians 3:20?

So at what point did these children enter the church? I can think of one simple possibility: when their parents did, or alternatively when the children themselves were born to believing parents. But set that possibility aside for a moment.

Where in the New Testament is a single specific example of a child born to believing parents who, after his parents’ conversion, himself is separately converted and then baptized? Where in the New Testament is a single instruction to parents about teaching toddlers, after these have reached the “age of accountability,” that they are now lost unbelievers unless and until they pray or profess faith on their own? (“Just give me one verse,” I tell my self and my lifelong view.)

Anthony N. S. Lane, in his fascinating paper “Did The Apostolic Church Baptise Babies? A Seismological Approach”:

…there is no single piece of evidence from the first two centuries of a child being brought up as a Christian and baptised at a later age. If the problem with infant baptism is inconclusive evidence that it happened in the first 150 years of the church, the problem with the alternative theory is total lack of evidence. It is true that the New Testament evidence for the baptism of infants is inconclusive, but at least there are passages which may plausibly be interpreted as implying that infants were baptised – such as Acts 16:33. By contrast there is no New Testament evidence at all for the later baptism of Christian children. There is no record of such a baptism and no hint in the epistles that such children should be seeking baptism.

This is critical, because are we not talking about the ideal situation in the church? Surely the ideal situation is Christian families: believing parents who raise their children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and whose children themselves go on to do the same. If all children of Christian parents are expected to reach a clear moment of conversion, make a verbal profession of belief, and finally be baptized, then taken together, would these not make up the most pivotal and important events in a child’s life? Where in Scripture are we told or taught about this?

So have I made disciples of my children?

Look at the Lord’s command to His disciples at the end of Matthew—what is commonly called the Great Commission; I know this is a frequently-made point but it just seems important to me now:

And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

How do you make a disciple? It seems to me, by baptizing and teaching. What if baptism, so far from being the crown to weeks or months or years of struggle to prove oneself a true believer, instead occurs at the beginning of a lifetime of discipleship?

I think that one reading of that text is: “make disciples, and once you have made a disciple, baptize and teach him.” Here is how Young’s Literal Translation puts verses 19-20: “having gone, then, disciple all the nations, (baptizing them — to the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all, whatever I did command you,) and lo, I am with you all the days — till the full end of the age.”

In the part of the church that I come from, we emphasized what we called “family discipleship.” Christian parents were not only to shelter, clothe, feed, and educate their children; they were to disciple their children. This might involve what fathers are commanded in Ephesians 6:

Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.

Naturally, we believed that parents were responsible to bring up their children to be disciples of the Lord Jesus, as the parents are disciples themselves. Probably few would dispute this. So a child is taught (and required) to pray, to obey Jesus’s commands, to be present at times of family worship and to join the gatherings of the local church. His life is expected to conform to what Scripture commands believers. 

How do you “disciple” someone who you assume is an unbeliever? How can you bring up a tiny presumed unregenerate “in the training and instruction of the Lord”?

Who would deny that a lost adult man or woman must “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ” to be “saved” (“you and your household”, the jailer in Philippi was told)? And who would wait to raise their baby boy or girl to follow the Lord Jesus until he or she could give sure evidence of new birth or make a “credible profession”?

While I am listing things I appreciate, this, from Jack K on the Puritan Board:

Where in the New Testament does it say discipleship should come before baptism? What I mean is: Do you plan to train a child from a young age in how he should live as a believer and then, at some point down the road, baptize him later on? Isn’t that backwards of what the Scripture teaches in every example of Christian baptism in the New Testament? In every case, baptism comes at the beginning, as a prelude to discipleship.

Without getting into proof texts, a sort of conclusion

I wonder now how much these questions—who to baptize, when to baptize, whether to re-baptize, etc.—have to do with what one believes that baptism is. Is it me doing something as a believer? Is it just “getting wet”? Is that consistent with Scripture?

Dumbly, for most of my Christian life I hardly thought much at all about some of the New Testament descriptions of baptism. I was recently struck by this, by Plymouth Brethren leader (and fairly notable Dispensationalist) J. N. Darby in “On the Baptism of Households”:

If life were implied in baptism, would it not have been written, “Arise, and be baptized, because your sins are washed away”? Again it is said, “Repent, and be baptized, for the remissions of sins,” not “because your sins are remitted,” which is the ground taken by those who refuse baptism for any but believers. “They that gladly received the word were baptized,” and it was “for the remission of sins”; that is to say, they could not be acknowledged as outwardly free from sin until they had in type died in the waters of death, and waters of baptism (1 Peter 3:20, 22), “wherein few, that is, eight souls were saved by waters!” etc.

Here are statements first that Noah was saved by water. He entered the ark before the flood and God shut him in, and he was as safe as God could make him; but no one could say he was yet saved, and the word says he was “saved by water; the like figure,” etc. As the water was God’s judgment by which the world was overwhelmed, Noah goes through it. He enters the ark in the old world, goes through the water, the judgment, and comes out in the new world. He could not be saved, but by going through. the waters of death through which he who accepted God’s judgment is called to pass, and which “doth now save us.” Noah could not be saved but by going through the judgment, he could not be brought to stand in the new world except through the flood; neither can we be brought into outward connection with the new man except we go through Christ’s death in a figure. “The like figure now saves us.” Then we are not saved outwardly without it.

Darby continues:

Believing, then, that the first man is entirely condemned and judicially ended in the death of Christ, baptism is faith’s acceptance of this judgment that if God has given me children they are born not in connection with the second man, but in the nature of the first, “that which is born of the flesh is flesh.” Believing that these children, though thus born in sin and in the nature of the first man, the ended man, are to be trained for God, brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord (He who has attained that Lordship by death); it is the privilege of faith to reckon such as judicially ended, to start from the death of Christ, remembering what God thinks of that death, that it is either salvation or judgment, that in it is displayed the righteousness of God which is unto all but is only upon all which believe. “We are unto God a sweet savour,” etc. (2 Cor. 2:10, 15).

And:

I own that the death of Christ has ended the first man, that in that death this child, as part of the first man, was judged. I own that all hope is in the second man. I submit it to Christ’s death, which shall be of necessity either its salvation or its judgment. But, blessed be God, He encourages me to believe it shall not be judgment but salvation. He is not willing that any should perish. He has given me Christ for myself, and presents Christ for the acceptance of my children not to be their condemnation. He tells me to bring them up for Him “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” He tells me to “train up a child,” etc. (Prov. 22:6). The little ones belong to Christ. He has redeemed them. He said, “Suffer little children,” etc.

(Small sigh.)

By way of acknowledging that this entire question won’t really be resolved by a single “proof text”, I end with this, from his conclusion:

…if there is nothing [in Scripture] about children being baptized there is something and very much about the baptism of households, not because they were believers – they may or may not have been – but because they were households. There is a principle running through Scripture from beginning to end, and one may do well to examine it. You ask: How is it that these things are not known? That godly men refuse to baptize any but believers? That there was much darkness and confusion about that which concerns the simplest child of God?

The Church as “the pillar and the ground of truth” has failed: departed from single-eyed allegiance to Christ: ceased to walk by faith: has fallen back upon nature to walk by sight. We are in the last days. The Church of God is in ruins. The truth has been hidden, covered over with the dust of centuries: but God has been graciously removing the dust, leading the saints back to the word and restoring to them the glorious truths therein. … Fearful of regeneration, we have rushed to another extreme and, knowing [baptism] could never give life, have denied that it now saves. Beneath the dust, and apart from the ruin, the word of God is bright and luminous as ever.