Why We're Seeking Membership in the Communion of Reformed Evangelical Churches

For several years, Northwest Hills Community Church has pondered whether our brief cooperation with the Southern Baptist Convention should continue. We somewhat reluctantly joined in 2018 after having left our former denomination over egalitarianism and other botherations. We never really fit, given our elder-rule polity and disdain for congregationalism. Various issues exacerbated our departure: Anti-credalism, creeping egalitarianism, anti-Calvinist derangement syndrome, and the persistent financial opaqueness of SBC entities, to name a few. In any event, we ended our cooperation, having given thanks for the many good people and churches in the SBC, and set out to find a denomination that was not a liability.

After approximately a year of consideration, several factors led us to the Communion of Reformed and Evangelical Churches (CREC). First, we really believe in catholicity. We like the fact that CREC churches can affirm a number of historic Reformed confessions, including our own 1689 London Baptist Confession, and we do not mind partnering with people who disagree with us on baptism. Second, the CREC espouses an intentional credalism and thus grounds itself to the historic Christian faith. Third, we like the ardent convictional Christianity of CREC churches. Fourth, while Baptists ordinarily affirm the doctrine of local church autonomy, our church has come to affirm the need for genuine pastoral accountability beyond the local church.

The Wisdom of Pastoral Accountability

The shift from local church autonomy began when, late in 2022, I restudied the office of elder afresh and considered every passage on church polity and leadership. A journal article on elder-rule resulted from that study, but one passage that gave me pause was Acts 15:1-35. To summarize, the early church was divided on whether Gentile believers ought to obey the Mosaic law code and submit to circumcision. Both the apostles and elders of the churches gathered in Jerusalem, wherein there was "much debate" (v. 7). Eventually, these leaders would publish a letter to Gentile Christians that delineated their obligations before God (vv. 22-29). The fact that these leaders believed that they should convene a council (i.e., the Jerusalem Council) to decide a critical doctrinal matter betrays the notion that individual local churches should be completely independent of one another. Further, the Scriptures depict the decisions of these leaders as both final and authoritative. The decision of the Jerusalem Council extended beyond Jerusalem and affected the churches in Antioch, Syria, Cilicia, and beyond (v. 23).

Repeatedly, the New Testament mentions a body comprised of leaders from various churches commissioning men to take on this or that ministry (e.g., Acts 8:14; 11:1; Gal. 2:9). Moreover, the epistles portray an attitude of mutual dependence, cooperation, and care among the churches and their leadership. As I have reflected on these things, it seems inconceivable to me that the apostles and early Christians believed that pastoral accountability ends in the local church. Rather, the Bible's depiction of the collegial cooperation of local churches implies that elders are accountable not only to their churches but to the broader body of Christ.

Given these convictions, our fellowship has initiated a relationship with the Bucer Presbytery and will seek candidacy at the next meeting in the spring, Lord willing. I attended Bucer's last meeting as an observer and found those brothers friendly, warm, and godly. Rev. Troy Greene of The King's Chapel is serving as our sponsoring church, and Rev. Harold Guptill, presiding Minister of the Bucer Presbytery, continues to exemplify kindness to us.

Scandals, Controversies, and the Roving Opinion of Internet Experts:

A Consideration of Those Controversies Involving the CREC

Some time ago, I became embroiled in a heart-rending dispute within our church. The facts of this dispute were convoluted and involved many people, including our elder board. The resultant controversy seemed to consume every molecule of air in the church. My many attempts at conciliation seemed to make matters worse. After months of meeting, praying, and seeking peace, unity began to become an actual possibility. After a year, the Lord had worked to bring about peace and understanding. However, I was personally languishing. The stress alone was crushing, and for the first time in eight years of pastoral ministry, I considered resigning. It was a season of jarring difficulty.

            In the midst of that ordeal, one individual who had nothing to do with the dispute personally, but who got involved anyway, asked to meet with me. The individual unloaded a litany of gripes, grievances, and complaints stemming from their experience in our church for at least a decade. Although each grievance involved different people and divergent contexts, they wove them together into an interconnected tapestry of injustice. In their eyes, these events constituted a narrative in which the overarching mentality of our church was inhospitality and harshness. Although the events they recounted were unrelated, often separated by years, and were viewed in the most ungracious and presumptuous manner possible, they believed that they had been victimized by a spirit of injustice.

            This case-building, in which one develops a narrative based on unrelated events involving various parties and spanning a significant period, is an example of the fallacy of causation. The fallacy of causation is a form of incoherent reasoning that assumes a causal relationship between two or more events when none exists, often mistaking correlation for causation. For example, I have heard it said that the rate of people who drown in swimming pools over the span of the last two decades has tracked with the release of every film featuring Nicholas Cage. While Cage’s movies may offer reason for marginal despair, he is certainly not involved in a vast pool-drowning conspiracy. When we are closer to the events, case-building is an incredibly appealing bit of incoherence. We do it all the time. It is especially easy to do when we do not regularly interact with the specific parties. It validates our own suspicions, projections, and our tendency to find a culprit around every corner.

            Each of us has felt unjustly pigeonholed at some time or another. If you tell three lies in a short period of time and get caught, only to tell a lie about your imbalanced consumption of ice cream next year, you might be branded a pathological liar for years. I once counseled a couple whose entire marriage was colored by the husband’s failure to steward money well in their first years of marriage. Twenty-seven years later, as they sat before me, the wife explained that her husband is financially incompetent and that she handles the funds. Maturation, personal development, and life experience did not change the fact that, in her eyes, he was a fiscal dullard whose responsibilities ended at the checking account.

            Pastoral ministry, among other things, requires a man to become a lightning rod for periodic complaints and controversy. The mild-mannered churchman who is zealous for the truth of God’s Word and the spiritual good of his sheep will inevitably find himself forced to say and do hard things. He must confront sin if he is to be faithful. He must call out falsehood to honor God. He must risk offending people to speak to them about their lives.

Join our sinful proclivity to case-build with a pastor’s responsibility to act in the most difficult of circumstances, and we end up with the easiest of targets. If we add his own oversights, failures, and frailties, we end up with what seems like an engraved invitation for our sustained criticism. Subsequently, we should not hurry to judge a man that we do not personally know because of the latest internet outrage. Nor should we rush to condemn a churchman based on partial information of a multifaceted situation. There are judgment-worthy situations for sure, but these are much rarer than a non-hatchet job in the Roy’s Report.

Public situations where a pastor says something idiotic (e.g., Alistair Begg’s unfortunate counsel on attending a sodomite “marriage”) should be treated differently from controversy stemming from the congregant who seeks cyberspace sympathy by spilling one-sided beans about an ongoing church discipline case. Reformed Twitter loves a scandal, and internet "theologians" who reject church attendance love to anathematize pastors.

Tax Collectors & Case-Building from Afar

The detest that our society attributes to those who have sexually preyed upon a child is second to none. One might engage in espionage, risking the fate of an entire nation, and still not endure the scorn that a pedophile receives. His life is forever shaped by his sin, whether it involved pornography, voyeurism, or sexual acts. Indeed, his sin is unforgivable in the minds of most people, even in the church. Such an attitude is certainly understandable, if not in conflict with any reasonable understanding of the New Testament. While I will likely never invite a converted child predator over for dinner, I cannot treat him as subhuman should he repent and be justified. Far be it from me to bring a charge and condemn God’s elect. I may not trust him, but as a pastor, I must shepherd him. I must seek his good while others turn their back on him. Pursuant to my own need for a place at the level ground beneath the cross, I am in no position to treat him as a tax collector, even if by associating myself with him I end up sullying my own reputation in the eyes of some.

When my ministry required that I engage with someone who either had confessed to pedophilic activity or who had received a conviction for such behavior (seven at last count), every substantial pastoral decision received considerable analysis and criticism. As a father of nine, I understand the fears involved and the responsibility to protect one’s children more than most. However, there are some fearful approaches to this issue that require Christians to set aside the Bible’s teaching on sin and human nature in favor of unrealistic generalizations and hysteria. Do not get me wrong. I think the only appropriate response from the civil authorities is to execute someone who has sexually preyed on a child. Even so, the church does not bear the sword, and pastors are tasked with ministering to even the most abhorrent human being who walks into their office.

“Doug Wilson Inc.” and the Heralds of Pastoral Malpractice

When I heard of the ongoing claims of wrongdoing by pastor Douglas Wilson related to a member of Christ Church who had engaged in child predation, I listened carefully. I listened to both the charges, the disparagements, and the manner in which those criticisms were levelled. I listened to lengthy podcast episodes, watched videos, and read websites dedicated to exposing the corruption and dishonesty at Christ Church and Wilson. I listened to anti-Wilson specialists pull together events from different contexts and involving different people to case-build. Pleased with their case, these doyens of pastoral malpractice expect their audience to conclude that Wilson is a misogynistic plagiarizer and a heretical slavery enthusiast who has a soft place in his heart for child predators.

Setting aside the sordid details of the offender’s sin, it occurred to me that the sensational criticism given to Wilson, his church, and the CREC is mainly owed to the societal detest of pedophiles, a preexisting tendency to loathe Wilson and what he represents, and general ignorance of what is involved in pastoral ministry. While I can find things to criticize among the decisions the elders of Christ Church and Wilson, I cannot disparage these men because there are undoubtedly details and rationales that I am not privy to. Sure, I can say I would not have done this or that, but my opinion is partly based on ignorance. I know well the pitfalls of case-building from afar, and I am entirely hesitant to abominate ministers of the gospel based on incomplete and sensationalized information. I cannot, owing to biblical convictions, abhor churchmen based upon the transient standards of the secular therapeutic industry. Pastoral ministry is a messy business because the lives of those whom we minister to are frequently disordered.

Some of the anti-Wilson crusaders are people of questionable moral and theological disposition. While I will not disregard their many claims solely because of the dodgy source, I do wonder about the motivations of some of these campaigners. One particularly virulent anti-Wilson mission consists of a team of professing Christians and at least one infidel. The prospect of a Christian partnering with an avowed atheist to take down a pastor, a church, and a denomination is one that implies conviction-less pragmatism and a startling lack of discernment. When that same party seems to jump at every chance to occupy the limelight like a starved dog let loose in a steakhouse, it is reasonable to begin to wonder whether there is an unstated agenda underlying the sanctimony. When activists uncritically gather stories of wrongdoing about numerous persons and ministries without the ballast of the other side, a self-serving motive is implied.

“Come, see how I was abused at the hands of this popular individual” is a trope that captures the zeitgeist for sure. Some of these reports seem to fit the “tidal wave of disclosure” characterization a little too well. This is especially true when “abuse” is redefined to include everything from simple disagreement to conventional church discipline. After reading, listening, and watching the anti-Wilson campaigners, I was left wondering whether they believe that everyone who disagrees either has Stockholm Syndrome or is a dunce who sold out to the “Moscow mood.” After all, how many personal testimonies of pastoral malpractice are needed to convince the average Calvinist that Wilson is the evangelical equivalent of Anton LaVey?

Louis XIV, the self-described “Sun King,” once quipped, “I am the state.” Suffice it to say, Louis’ grandiose opinion of himself left little room for the citizenry of France to have a say in its own governance. The anti-Wilson crusaders, aside from failing miserably to destroy his public witness and ministry, frequently assert and imply that ‘Wilson is the CREC.’ That is, unless the crusaders happen to stumble upon something in the CREC that they may use to discredit Wilson.

The spirit of Charles Sanders Pierce is still alive in Escondido.

It is unrealistic to suppose that any individual within the CREC holds singular control over the entire denomination. Indeed, the presiding minister of council does not come remotely close to possessing that kind of influence and control. The ‘Wilson is the CREC’ assertion also implies that the thousands of Christians who are part of CREC churches and the hundreds of elders who constitute its various presbyteries are nothing short of stooges who parrot whatever is dictated out of Moscow. In reality, Wilson is influential in the same way that R. Albert Mohler is influential in the SBC, or in the same way Tim Keller was influential in the PCA. Those within the CREC who highly regard Wilson view him as an admirable example of a Christian churchman and seek to emulate his many accomplishments. Influence, however it comes, does not equate to autocracy.

As it turns out, a fair critique that acknowledges the considerable good that Wilson has brought to the church local and catholic is about as common as a sensible terrorist. When the avalanche of critiques focuses exclusively on a handful of frequently repeated accusations, of which Wilson has constantly and reasonably responded, these critiques end up having the opposite of their intended effect. Christian men have awakened to the fact that they have been unjustly lampooned for decades owing to the feminine mystique. When they see a man who actually has convictions and who is evidently reasonable receive unhinged criticism, they recognize the target extends well beyond Wilson. Sometimes the quiet part is said out loud, like when Russell Moore claimed that men who gravitate toward Wilson “become losers.”  Surely the legions of men whose Christian convictions extend far beyond the faux evangelicalism of Christianity Astray, heard Moore’s remark and turned to their wives and seven children, and announced that after family worship, "There is a new and exciting program on Canon+."

The Federal Vision and Other Canards

During my undergraduate years, I studied under a scholar who had spent most of his career promoting the so-called “new perspective on Paul.” He would wax long about how Protestants have gotten Second Temple theology all wrong and why sola fide was a big mistake. During that period, the “federal vision” movement began to gain notoriety in the then-burgeoning Reformed blogosphere. Among these federal visionists were some whose theology was eerily reminiscent of the new perspectivists. I took the time to read a few volumes that delved into the matter, as well as the first volume of Justification and Variegated Nomism. What I determined is that the federal vision was about as theologically organized as a cobweb. There was never a “federal vision,” but “federal visions,” some of which espoused a collection of views not typically affirmed by Presbyterians, but many of which are found within some expressions of evangelicalism and historic Protestantism.

Some within the Presbyterian brain trust instigated a wagon-circling furor, and federal visionism became analogous to Arius’ new record label. Never mind that most Reformed evangelicals cannot even distinguish between Christ’s active and passive obedience. No, federal visionism, no matter the iteration, became the new Reformed bogeyman, and anyone who had anything to do with it was now a closet papist.

As a credo-baptist and boss-level Calvinist who really believes in catholicity, I viewed federal visionism as a collection of distasteful Presbyterian aberrations. Some quarters trended Lutheran or Anglican, and there were those firmly committed to the conventional Westminsterian explanation of most things. In either case, the entire movement is impossibly tied to pedobaptism.

Since the heyday of federal visionism, Wilson and certain others involved have repeatedly had to reiterate their loyalty to sola fide ad infinitum. Indeed, Wilson should just get a face tattoo that says “I believe in justification by faith alone.” It would save him some time and might grant him an audience with the Spotify rapper crowd. Since the movement is dead and since the CREC requires subscription to a Reformed confession, the federal vision controversy is about as relevant as Y2K. That is, unless you are bald, live in Southern California, and enjoy the long-term benefits of the Dunning-Kruger effect.

I am glad to fellowship with Presbyterians who have an Anglican bent, just as I can fellowship with those LCMS Lutherans whose commitment to theological paradox finds no equal. I do not agree with all sorts of people who belong to the CREC. However, our fellowship depends not on our uniformity on matters of secondary and tertiary importance but on our mutual affirmation of the historic biblical faith.

Like Turkeys Voting for Thanksgiving

Our fellowship is odd for a number of reasons, including our views on the Lord’s Supper. We view the Lord’s Table as a covenant renewal ceremony in which the body recommits itself to the King, acknowledging the sufficiency of his grace and the extraordinary importance of his death. We practice the Lord’s Supper far more regularly than the typical Baptist church, and we permit the unbaptized to receive the elements as a profession of faith. While we offer the biblical warnings, we depend on parents' discernment to oversee their children's participation in light of their profession of faith. Additionally, we have member families who are not baptistic.

The CREC is chock full of churches whose conviction is that all covenant members receive the benefits of the Lord’s Supper, including children. While this is not a practice that I necessarily agree with in its entirety, I continue to be amazed that many among the Presbyterian cognoscenti believe that communing children is “not Reformed.” I am amazed only because of the incredible hypocrisy of such a claim, given what passes for Reformed in some of their churches. We might recall one of their own who promoted theistic evolution and pushed “soft complementarianism” (i.e., regressive feminism), and yet his Reformed credentials remained immaculate. Remember when that one highly regarded pastor said, “Never Trump. This time Harris. Always Jesus”? Had I to choose, I would gladly prefer fellowship with those paedocommunionists instead of the TGC special victims’ unit.

For some reason, most Presbyterians do not see how the standard arguments against paedocommunion stemming from 1 Corinthians 11:27-29 mitigate against their own position. Repentance is consistently associated with baptism (e.g., Acts 2:38; 22:16). Since Presbyterians disregard repentance exemplified in submission to Matthew 28:19 as it relates to the baptism of infants, then why make a federal case about 1 Corinthians 11? Is not the emphasis of the Lord's Supper on what communicants are saying by their participation (e.g., covenant renewal; memorial; proclamation)? Why then would those allegedly in the covenant be forced to refrain from such associations? Moreover, the requirement to commune is covenant membership just as it was in the Old Testament. Therefore, by creating the category of covenant children, the non-paedocommunion practicing Presbyterians are inconsistent in their application of the covenant blessings.

If the hermeneutic that gets one to paedobaptism relies heavily on the New Testament appropriation of circumcision as a type (it always does), then does not the reliance on Passover as a type of the Lord's Table depend on the same hermeneutic? There is a stark difference between the abuse of the Lord's Table as in 1 Corinthians 11 and an alternative view of it. Clearly, given the toleration of Lutheranism and other forms of sacramentalism, some Presbyterians have divulged an uneven prejudice. From what I can tell as an outsider to the Presbyterian intellectual trust, this prejudice is rooted in an aversion to personalities and movements, and not to the actual issues. For all of the talk of Reformed catholicity, there sure is a fair amount of sectarian shade thrown at the paedocommunionists when, in fact, charitable disagreement over much bigger issues has been achieved previously.

By seeking to oust the paedocommunionists from under the moniker of “Reformed,” Presbyterians have inadvertently demonstrated the illegitimacy of paedobaptism and their inconsistent hermeneutic. I suppose the best I can muster is sympathetic embarrassment on behalf of all Baptists, since none of this applies to me. Charitable as I am, I view these squabbles as a good reason to practice a spiritual catholicity that understands such divisions as distinctions in God-given grace. More importantly, from a credo-Baptist perspective, at least the paedocommunionists are the consistent Presbyterians.