I have been writing sermons in manuscript form for as long as I can remember. I even think the first sermon I ever preached in 1999 on Deuteronomy 8 was manuscripted. I loved the confidence it gave me. It was the answer to the imperative “Show me the money!” Well, here it is. In Times New Roman and 14-point font.

I loved the art of choosing words carefully to fit the context. I remember thinking that a turn of phrase or a phrase that turns will stick with the general parishioner more so than a lengthy exposition of Hebrews 6:5. I love myself some exegesis, but I just find that the standard exegetical sermon belongs much more behind a lectern than the pulpit. I understand the impetus of Puritans in an age of illiteracy, but I cannot understand 75-minute Puritan preaching in an age of excessive and available literacy.

Writing manuscripts and developing the argument line by line removes the temptation to stray into strange sermonic territories. Now, as I have gotten older and mastered certain topics, it is far easier to offer expositions on them without a manuscript. But I don’t think I would ever dare to do so with newer topics and texts. And while the pastor sometimes recycles material, he is constantly refreshing his repertoire. I have witnessed non-manuscript pastors fall into the temptation to drift into the wilderness, which can leave the speaker and the listener stuck at Mt. Carmel, fighting Baalites, when they need to move on to the Promised Land—a metaphor for the end of a sermon, if you’re following my drift.

I remember reading Annie Dillard’s delightful little book The Writing Life where she notes that to write is to “make the path boldly and follow it fearfully.”(3) It’s unfortunate that many pastors can make the path boldly, but then linger unfearfully along the way, never arriving at home.

Now, I still think that preaching is the power of God through personality. And I wouldn’t want a manuscript to take that away. Yes, it’s divine revelation; holy truth, piercing asunder, and more, but ultimately it’s still a human speaking—delivering a message from God using his style, his mannerisms, and cadence. Yes, all these things can be trained. It should be trained. No one should be content with his style, since no preacher has attained excellence. Like anything, preaching is an art. But still, at the end of the day, you still have a man…weak, sometimes sleepless, and sometimes offering the very last of his energy in the theater of God’s glory.

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That said, I still advocate for the manuscript through the personality of a given man. It will make the servant of God a better writer, a better word-selector, and a fuller thinker, able to transition people from one thought to another without confusion or mixture (let the reader understand).

I don’t want to talk here about rhetoric, of which I have at other occasions, but simply to argue for the manuscript as the preacher’s raw canvas at the beginning of the week. Yes, the ol’ fashioned manuscript from which we have derived famous sermons in history, from which we have gained glorious pieces of ever-living history. It’s simply a good habit; a good practice; a good way of learning your way through the vast domain of communication.

And that’s what writing is—communication. Of course, one can be a bad writer for a host of reasons. He doesn’t read. He only consumes media. Manuscript writers who are not good readers will eventually fall into mechanical writing, which entails a lot of words and little to grasp. Or, they will fall into repetitive writers, which entails regurgitating the same ideas with little creativity.

But the manuscript writer who works hard at his craft will learn three things:

I. The art of editing. He will develop an ability to say things creatively without being pedantic. He will be able to say what needs to be said concisely, rather than abruptly. And the difference is important. The concise communicator has worked through his manuscript and realized he has already said too much, and that much of it is too much to consume. The abrupt writer says things too flippantly and carelessly without regard for the listener and reader. He comes across as obtuse for his lack of compassion in communication. And thus, he is understood by a few and overlooked by the many.

II. The art of explaining. He will develop an ability to say things understandably. This means that he will be able to illustrate his ideas in a way that doesn’t belittle the text nor the listener. He won’t be overly explanatory, nor will he be simplistic. He will learn his congregation and therefore know the necessary word count and the time required to achieve the desired goal.

III. The art of ending. He will develop an ability to reach his intended goal. Everyone has had an experience where a minister simply couldn’t figure out where to end or when to end. A manuscript could help you end well, instead of killing us softly with this song. Ending a sermon is one of the greatest gifts to a congregation; a flat or tiresome end leaves the listeners incomplete, but a clear ending takes them to where they need to be.

Of course, I haven’t dealt with how best to articulate a manuscript. There are manuscript readers who put the listener and the listener’s children to sleep. I may touch on it another time, but for now, remember that manuscript helps you to become a better editor, a more gifted explainer, and someone who knows when the Spirit has done his task through you.

Movie Review

I may start writing movie reviews again. They were usually part of my Saturday morning Facebook posts, where I briefly reviewed an older movie for the modern world.

I’d like to add a few words to the lovely 1949 film The Forbidden Street Britannia Mews. The movie is based on the best-selling novel by Margery Sharp, and it was not recommended for children at the time. Why—because there were a few kisses and the discussion of various mature themes. It’s hard to imagine the movie industry's decline today.

The lovely Maureen O’Hara plays Adelaide, a privileged young woman who defies her family by marrying an impoverished artist. Some will remember her from Miracle on 34th Street (1947). Adelaide pushes the envelope of social acceptability in her London context and decides to marry an artist whose reputation as a womanizer and drunk comes into play quickly in their marriage. Her failure to heed the cultural environment (Christianized London) where integrity and the honor of her parents are honored thrust her into Britannia Mews, a place known for its degradation. Her husband lacks the ambition to provide for her in the art world, but has a gift for making puppets, which Adelaide thinks unfortunate.

The rest of the movie is a form of romantic and dramatic redemption for Adelaide, who is now entangled with the bribery and bullying of an old “witch” in the community and is now navigating a new life in Britannia Mews. The story carries a lovely series of providences that bring Adelaide to a happy ending, and resurrects the puppets for a new life. Meanwhile, she plays within the confines of 1950’s London, and the integrity of marriage that the society requires.

I’d give it a 6 Britos!

a) Forming strong bonds among leaders. Invest in them with encouragement and lots of good food and drink. Most institutions are not broken from the bottom but from the top.

b) Emphasize unity with fervency. Make it central to the church’s life, but don’t water down unity to a bare minimum. Build unity on the essentials primarily and the distinctives of the flock secondarily.

c) Locate the strong men in the church and give them assignments that will equip them for future diaconal or eldership calling. Preparing future officers is an absolute necessity for bringing coherence to the life of the body.

d) Meet with those wishing to make tertiary issues into primary, even if you find those issues appealing. Do not allow them to build a following that exalts the odd. Warn them of the social and ecclesial consequences of fracturing the body. These individuals need to be shepherded into catholicity, not away from it.

e) Sing together a lot. At church. At home. At gatherings. A church that sings together stays together. Every institution needs its songs of lament in times of trial. We sing them now in times of peace to be tuned for times of grief and division.

Update: a dear parishioner asked a follow-up to this:

Brief California Reflections

It’s been a full week for me in Santa Clarita and in the stunning Ojai Mountains. Seeing the CREC expressed across the country and around the world is an experience I will never forget.

While I traveled quite a bit before my election as PMoC in 2023, I have undoubtedly doubled my traveling since then. It’s been an incredibly rewarding experience for me and my family who joined me for most of those journeys. While you accumulate some flying perks along the way, the trips have become more and more difficult as I get older. Nonetheless, it has been an honor to form new friendships everywhere, teach and preach the Word of God, and emphasize the importance of our distinctives as a denomination.

My week in California was splendid. Early-morning walks in the 60s gave me a taste of glory. Long conversations and witnessing the Gospel being passed down to future generations were also enthusiastic parts of being both a participant and an observer. The saints here, led by Andrew Richardson and his associate Aaron Fudge, are hospitable and embody the kind of CREC ethos that leaves you full in body and soul.

The last time I was here was in 2021, and the climate and culture of Los Angeles were much more oppressive then. It was COVID-hysteria x 100 in the Newsom reign. While some things don’t change and the political channels continue to be polluted by an endless perversion, no place on earth matches the splendor of California's weather. It’s mid-July, and there was dancing, eating, and playing—all of it outside with the delicious breeze. It felt repetitive to note the pleasantness of the weather, but I did so several times, with “thanks be to God” ringing in my ears each time.

I have uttered on numerous occasions how I wished I had something like a Summer Sanctus in my early teens. While God preserved me during my teen years, I know that I could have benefited much more from the joyful psalmnody of the church. I could have gained much from the solid Reformational heritage, and so on. Yet, I recognize that the story written for me was one where I prepared the way for my offspring to absorb these things deep in their souls. As for me, I had to undergo theological maturation through reading, writing, and deep reflection on a host of issues. I had to be undone so that my children could be beneficiaries of all these things. I don’t look back with regret. God was writing the perfect story.

Note: If my thoughts on Psalm 1 feel sermonic, it’s because it is based on a series of sermons on each Psalm. They are chanted and congregationally sung throughout. Much of this material is edited to fit a larger audience. This series aims to stir our people at Providence Church (CREC) to love the song and the promise in each of God’s inspired lyrics. This is the first in the series.

The Way of the Blessed Man

We have always placed a great emphasis on the Psalms. One of my important goals is to ensure that the Church leaves behind at least one singable tune for each psalm.

But there is something else we must cultivate when it comes to the Psalms, and that is an understanding of their breadth and depth. In other words, the Psalms are not merely devotional piety; they are exegetical treasures, weapons for taking down strongholds.

Now, we may sing them, but the ideal is to sing them understandingly—to sing them with wisdom and insight.

From the earliest days of the Church, we have been a psalm-singing people. So, it seems good that we dive into a few psalms, beginning with the genesis of the Psalter, Psalm 1.

I use the word genesis intentionally because Psalm 1 closely aligns with and indeed replays several key themes we see in the Garden of Eden. But we will return to this at the end.

There is a great deal of movement in this opening psalm: there is walking, standing, and sitting. The psalms are sung liturgies; they inform us not only how to pray but also what our posture, mood, and disposition should be in the presence of God. And it’s very clear from the beginning that the liturgy of the church involves the whole body.

Blessed is the man
Who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly,
Nor stands in the path of sinners,
Nor sits in the seat of the scornful;

Worship is not meant to be a spectator sport. When we come into the presence of God in worship, we move, and live, and have our being in Him. It would be strange to treat these movements as mere spiritual matters. The Pietist would read Psalm 1 and say, “These are spiritual movements.” They would say, “Follow these postures in your heart.” But as Douglas Wilson says, “Theology comes out of your fingertips.” The Psalms are flesh-and-blood. They are tangible movements, which is why we don’t individualize them to how I feel; in worship, we all move and live together as one body under one Lord.

So, when the congregation kneels, everyone kneels. When the congregation lifts up holy hands, everyone does the same. Worship is not the place for expressive individualism. Worship is the place where individualism goes to die.

But not only is the psalmist interested in ways of being, ways of acting; he also sings about a particular culture—one marked by bodily engagement. He begins with a list of benedictions. Psalm 1 functions as the Old Testament counterpart to the Beatitudes: “Blessed is the man!” Or, as another translation renders it, “Oh, happy is Adam.” Blessed is the image-bearer—who does what?

First, “he walks not in the counsel of the ungodly.” The ungodly seek an audience with him. “Let’s go for a walk,” they say. And what do the wicked want? They want to include you in their agenda; they want to persuade you that your view of life is flawed. But the wicked will not always be blunt about it. Often, they operate with artistic subtlety—through sitcoms, by introducing a sympathetic gay character when you least expect it, or by articulating a vision of paradise where everyone shares everything equally in New York City. Evil is often subtle in its marketing department.

There are many sad examples of young Christians whose thinking shifts after prolonged exposure to the counsel of the ungodly. Someone may begin by observing how kind unbelieving classmates are, only to find that her perspective on the Christian faith soon changes dramatically. She may go from delighting in God’s people to enjoying the company of the ungodly. Eventually, she may concede that she no longer wants the God of the Bible and abandon the faith.

This is a lesson in the dangers of walking in the counsel of the ungodly. Remember, saints: watch not only where you walk, but with whom you walk; watch where you stand, and with whom you stand; watch where you sit, and with whom you sit.

The New King James Version, Psalm 1:

Nor stands in the path of sinners,
Nor sits in the seat of the scornful.

These are ways of being, moving, and living that all end in the same place, the place of unblessedness, of unhappiness.

Planted, Fruitful, and Unmoved

The contrast in verses 2–3 is rich. If you avoid these movements, these paths, and these voices, and instead delight in the law of God—meditating on it as a rhythm of life—you will be known as someone steady and immovable. If you go about chanting, humming, singing the psalms, storing the Ten Commandments in your heart, you will not fall prey to online or campus deception. You will walk peacefully with your husband or wife and with your children. You will walk in peace in the church and your community.

Psalm 1 is the kind of psalm that must be memorized, cherished, sung, and revisited again and again. It gauges your habits.

Does this psalm describe you? Does it describe the direction and trajectory of your movements at school, at home, on campus, and at church?

When people think of you, do they say: “That’s a young lady not prone to foolishness and gossip”? “That’s a young man who could one day serve as an officer in the Church”? “That’s someone who draws others toward love, joy, and peace.” “Their disposition is cheerful;” “He’s not quarrelsome.”

The Psalmist uses the language of stability: planted, fruitful, not withering, prospering. That is the blessed life. That is the good life—not a million followers on X, nor necessarily wealth, but a long obedience in the right direction; thousands of habits of grace; millions of words of encouragement; faith upon faith; grace upon grace; cuddling moments with children; coffee with friends; Bible studies; psalm-roars. That is the true Gospel of prosperity.

The New King James Version, Psalm 1:

The ungodly are not so,
But are like the chaff which the wind drives away.

There is a different composition to the ungodly. “They are not so,” that is, they are altogether different. They don’t share the Christian worldview. They pursue different goals. Their agenda is not the glory of Yahweh but self-fulfillment. And this leaves a legacy of selfishness to their offspring.

The Psalmist says that “the wind drives them away.” The word for wind is the same word for Spirit—ruach. In Scripture, the Spirit is the cleanser of history. He hovers over creation, removing uncleanness, making all things new. As he did in Genesis, he continues to do today in our world. In the case of the ungodly (those who scheme against God’s people), the Spirit ensures that their labors are in vain. The ungodly do not endure. He drives them away. He separates them, whether by excommunication or keeping the church pure from corruption; the Spirit drives the ungodly out of the camp.

The New King James Version, Psalm 1:

Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment,
Nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.

Again, notice the movements. The Christian sits, stands, and walks in the congregation of the righteous. He moves for the sake of true justice, knowing that he will stand before the great Judge Himself. When the Psalmist says the ungodly “shall not stand in the judgment,” he means they will not stand in judgment over God or over us in the congregation. They will not set our agenda as Christians, nor will they dictate how we raise our children, how many children we have, where we worship, how we worship, or with whom we worship.

The unrighteous will not dictate how the Church is ordered, because they despise the judgment of the Church. They hate what is good. They turn away from holy principles, preaching, and psalms.

Indeed, the ungodly are not so. They may rule for a time, but the principle stands: as the way of the righteous prospers, the ungodly perish. Yahweh knows our ways, because He knows our thoughts and our movements.

Christ, the True and Blessed Adam

So, now, let’s return to that Genesis theme and answer a question which the Psalmist assumes, which is, Who is the “blessed man” of Psalm 1? The answer is obvious, but it must be remembered that Psalm 1 is a reinstatement of the opening chapters of Genesis. Who walked, stood, and sat in the counsel of the ungodly? Adam did. Rather than delighting perpetually in the counsel of God, Adam heeded the voice of the serpent. He should have interrupted that dialogue and protected his wife from the scornful.

Instead of remaining planted as a tree, uncorrupted by false voices, he partook of the tree of death. God had called Adam to trust Him and to wait upon Him, but he chose the counsel of the wicked.

How did our Lord respond to the failure of Adam?

Jesus enters the scene in the first century and is immediately thrust into warfare with the Devil and his ambassadors. Yet He does not walk with them, nor stand or sit with them. He rebukes them with the Word of the Lord. He delights to do the will of the Father, day and night. He meditates on, quotes, and embodies the law of God.

He plants Himself by rivers of water. Indeed, He becomes the fountain of living water for all who thirst. He becomes the tree of everlasting life by giving His body on a tree for the life of the world. Yes, whatever He does prospers. Whomever He touches is healed. Whatever tree He curses withers. Those He rebukes fall. Those He blesses prosper.

Psalm 1 does not end by asking us to admire the blessed man from a distance, but to follow Him. In Christ, the true Adam, the blessed life has been given to us before it is ever demanded of us. He has walked where we failed, stood firm where we wavered, and sat enthroned where we could not. And now, united to Him, the Spirit plants us by living waters and teaches us how to walk, where to stand, and where to sit.

So go from this place unafraid of faithfulness, unashamed of holiness, and unmoved by the counsel of the ungodly. Delight in the law of the Lord. Sing the Psalms with understanding. Raise your children in wisdom. Love the Church. Trust the slow work of God. For the way of the righteous is known by the Lord, and in Christ, that way leads not to chaff and scattering, but to life, fruitfulness, and everlasting joy.

Notations

• If you are an old soul like me, this interview with Billy Joel was iconic in every way—beginning with the discussion about the role of classical music in shaping his own, the influences of the Beatles, and the musicality of vowels. The whole thing was splendid!

• I had never heard of the Spanish journalist Itxu Díaz over at the American Spectator, but I shall familiarize myself with him after this ode to the West. And it comes right as I begin to delve into the Iliad. So, extra timely gem. Here’s his closing paragraph:

  No. Not all cultures are of equal value. Not all ideas deserve equal respect. Not all the barbarism found in the non-Western world can be explained away by the injustices suffered by those who commit it. The West, too, could have become its worst self. It could have remained trapped in Nazi barbarism, embraced bloody revolutions, or failed to resist the Muslim invasions. Instead, it chose to strive for its best self. Others did not. Other cultures, like the one Zohran Mamdani admires, struggle every day to return to their worst. That is why the following statement is neither arrogant nor provocative, but calm and firm: the West is better. And we should be proud enough to defend it to the end, just as our ancestors did.

• On Households:

What in the world would you expect from a third-place match? Both teams entered the arena with devastating memories. The hopes of what could have been are now replaced by many who believe it is a consolation match; an opportunity for young players to get their minutes and fulfill their dreams of playing in the World Cup. Well, the story ends with England defeating France. But the story itself is quite astonishing.

Remember that many had dismissed it as a meaningless match—perhaps even the players themselves.

England made a host of changes to their starting eleven, but when Declan Rice scored the opening goal after only a couple of minutes, everyone sensed that there might be something special about the occasion.

But I doubt the 65,000 present expected England to score four goals in the first half. It was a dominant performance. Tuchel looked proud. It’s as if his deadly move to play defense against the Argentinian superstars was going to be undone in a game of a lifetime.

As the teams headed down the tunnel with England leading 4–0, cries of France’s apocalyptic collapse rang out. The contest appeared to be over. Duchamp’s last game with the French squad would end in tragedy. Even I had 2014 Brazil/Germany vibes.

Then something remarkable happened.

France emerged for the second half transformed. A response had been expected, but they exceeded every expectation. They played with urgency and confidence, gradually putting themselves in a position to complete a legendary comeback from a four-goal deficit—a feat never before achieved in World Cup history (happy to be corrected here). And with tremendous precision, they scored magnificent and well-crafted goals.

England responded by introducing several of their regular starters, including Jude Bellingham. Even so, the momentum remained unmistakably with France. With the score at 4–3, a French equalizer seemed almost inevitable.

Then England won a clear penalty.

Bellingham took hold of the ball, and everyone assumed that England’s brightest star was about to seize the moment and stun the world once again. He stood over the penalty spot with the ball in his hands, but, at the last second, he turned and gave it to Bukayo Saka.

Saka had already scored twice. If he converted the penalty, he would become only the fourth Englishman to score a hat-trick at a World Cup. It was an extraordinary gesture from Bellingham, who surrendered the chance to score in order to place his close friend in English football history.

Saka made no mistake. He calmly dispatched the penalty, completed his hat-trick and restored England’s two-goal advantage: 5–3.

France, however, still had one more gift to offer—the gift of Ousmane Dembélé. The Ballon d’Or winner carried the ball confidently into the penalty area, produced his trademark shift onto his left foot and guided his finish into the same corner he had found so effectively three times against Norway only a couple of weeks earlier.

At 5–4, surely that was the final act.

It was not.

There was still one last piece of magic waiting in Bellingham’s hat. He drove forward with the ball, dribbled past two defenders and, with the composure of England’s greatest goalscorers, placed his shot into the back of the net.

England 6, France 4. This time, the game truly was over.

Kylian Mbappé finished the night as the leading goalscorer in World Cup history—assuming Lionel Messi does not put his cape on again tomorrow—while England departed with their heads held high after a victory filled with courage, generosity and moments of extraordinary individual brilliance.

Undoubtedly, it was one of the finest matches in World Cup history. Que jogo bonito!

It’s an important note to affirm that the Bible does address drinking (Eph. 5:18, I Tim. 5:23), dancing (Jer. 31:4), and playing (Zech. 8:5). All these things are good in and of themselves, but can also be abused. But for these authority structures with whom I spent my early years, all these things could only lead to our demise.

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Some men have justified their lack of godly ambition for piety—or worse, accepted passivity as the defining mark of modern manhood. However, Scripture presents a very different vision. Right from the beginning, Adam was placed in the garden “to work it and keep it” (Gen. 2:15). Man was created to cultivate, guard, build, and exercise responsible dominion under God. Passivity is not humility. It’s not some mystical quietism; neither is neglect a rationale for biblical meekness. Instead, a refusal to act is often a refusal to embrace the responsibilities God has assigned.

But faithful men act. They build, pursue, lead, learn, and take responsibility. The book of Proverbs repeatedly contrasts the diligent man with the sluggard. “The hand of the diligent will rule, while the slothful will be put to forced labor” (Prov. 12:24). Paul likewise exhorts believers to be “not slothful in zeal” but “fervent in spirit” as they serve the Lord (Rom. 12:11). Biblical faithfulness is neither frantic activity nor selfish ambition, but disciplined obedience directed toward the glory of God. Or, as I often put it, a long obedience in the right direction.

Time, Disposition, and Curiosity

To do that well, men need three things: time, disposition, and curiosity. I am certain that other elements can be added, but these seem to be crucial in the formation of fruitful men in the kingdom of God:

a) Make time. Making time means refusing to live perpetually at the mercy of distraction. A passive man says he does not have time when he has often simply failed to govern the time God has given him. He drifts from obligation to entertainment, from one notification to another, and then wonders why nothing substantial has been accomplished. Faithful men learn to order their days, protect their priorities, and give sustained attention to the duties before them. Paul commands Christians to walk carefully, “making the best use of the time, because the days are evil” (Eph. 5:15–16). Time is not merely something we possess; it is something entrusted to us. It’s something men must steward.

b) Cultivate the right disposition. Disposition matters because ambition without character becomes vanity, aggression, or self-promotion. The right disposition is marked by humility, courage, gratitude, and a willingness to be corrected. It is not enough for a man to be active; he must be active in the right direction and for the right reasons. As I have written over these last few years, there are active men pursuing wretched causes. In their cases, they are running productively towards their own destruction.

But Christian ambition seeks the glory of God, the good of one’s household, and the strengthening of the church and community. “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men” (Col. 3:23). The Christian man does not work merely to be seen, praised, or promoted, but because his labor is rendered before the face of God. And that is sufficient encouragement towards fruitfulness.

c) Stay curious. Curiosity keeps a man from becoming stagnant. A curious man asks questions, learns new skills, studies the world God has made, and seeks wisdom from men who have gone before him. He meets with other men to learn from them and to be inspired by them. He doesn’t assume that ignorance is a virtue or that competence belongs only to specialists. He is a happy generalist. He reads, listens, observes, experiments, and grows. Curiosity turns obstacles into problems to be solved rather than excuses for remaining still. Solomon says, “Let the wise hear and increase in learning” (Prov. 1:5). Wisdom begins with the fear of the Lord, but it does not end in intellectual lethargy. It produces a lifelong desire to understand God’s Word, God’s world, and one’s vocation.

Cheerful Responsibility Before God

This kind of godly action will look different from man to man. Not every faithful man will start a business, lead an institution, or occupy a prominent office. But every man has been given people to love, duties to fulfill, sins to mortify, and good works to pursue. The parable of the talents teaches that servants are not judged by whether they received identical gifts, but by whether they faithfully used what the master entrusted to them (Matt. 25:14–30). Again, the issue is not prominence, but stewardship.

But the opposite of passivity is not holding online celebrity status or being constantly active. This is not a game for most airline mileage. It is cheerful responsibility before God, before his wife, children, or father and mother. A faithful man does not need to be the loudest man in the room, but he should be ready to bear burdens, protect the vulnerable, provide for those entrusted to him, and take initiative when action is needed. He’s the individual setting up the sanctuary before the service and putting things away afterward. He should aspire, as Paul says, “to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands” (1 Thess. 4:11). Biblical masculinity combines quiet faithfulness with energetic obedience.

Men must also recognize that passivity is rarely overcome by inspiration or pep talks alone. It’s not the kind of thing stirred by YouTube influencers. It is overcome through repentance, discipline, brotherhood, and repeated acts of obedience. Fathers must train their sons to take responsibility. Older men must teach younger men what is good. Pastors must call men not merely to avoid scandalous sins, but to reject laziness, indecision, cowardice, and neglect. “Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong. Let all that you do be done in love” (1 Cor. 16:13–14).

Make time. Cultivate the right disposition. Stay curious.

Then get to work.

The pursuit of theology must be accessible to the people of God without using the complicated language of textbooks and lengthy systematic theologies—except when essential. Most of you will never read through John Calvin’s Institutes or John Frame’s 1,219-page Systematic Theology unless you are predisposed to reading that type of literature.

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Now, is it helpful to read Frame and Calvin after eight long work hours in your spare time? Do I want you to read these stellar thinkers instead of spending Saturday at the beach or watching your favorite TV show? Yes and No. There is a time for everything.

Some years ago, I spent some time thinking about the best way to categorize people in the pew and came up with two categories. The two categories are practitioners and poets.

Practitioners and Poets in the Pew

What kind of questions do practitioners ask? They ask questions like: “Pastor, tell me how I am supposed to live?” “Tell me how I am supposed to apply the sermon you just preached?” “Tell me how I should train my son or daughter.” “Tell me how to handle my boss, who drives me insane every day?” These are the questions practitioners ask.

What kind of questions do poets ask? They ask or say things like: “Pastor, how do I better interpret the text?” “That connection you made with II Kings 9 was fantastic.” “I love the poetry of the Bible.” “How does Christology shape New Testament hermeneutics?”

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A quick story to make the point.

During my doctoral studies, I sat in a class at RTS with several pastors, some of whom were well-published and recognized in the Reformed tradition. We had to post our names in front of our seats. While this was several years after the Federal Vision controversy, some people were still happy to relive 2002 again and again and again. The pastors in that class knew who I was and were even privately sympathetic to the objectivity of the covenant—a central thesis of the FV controversy.

As everyone began to take their seats, a particular figure, renowned for his opposition to Federal Vision and even serving as an itinerant traveler to Presbytery courts across the country, functioning as a prosecutor of all things FV—which he believed was polluting NAPARC congregations—sat down across from me.

Once he glanced at my name and I took a peek at his, it was apparent we had heard of each other. He had read some of my articles and was keenly aware of my affiliations and associations. I had read plenty about him to determine that certain human beings don’t deserve my attention, and he was a frontrunner for that title.

Face-to-Face

I watched his demeanor closely during class. The class was an overview of Puritan practices. At one time, a poem by a great Puritan was read, and he was moved emotionally. Despite his effort to condemn virtually all my friends, he was humanized in my eyes.

When the lunch break came, I immediately went towards him. I shook his hand, and my first words to him were: “How about lunch tomorrow after class?” It’s as if we both knew instantly it needed to happen.

I don’t need to go into details, but our lunch was extraordinary. We asked each other forgiveness for things that were said behind the scenes and even publicly in writing. He had already been going through some transitions in his thinking and realized that much of his disdain for the FV/CREC was eating him up inside and damaging his soul.

Ever since, we have exchanged thoughts and notes, read each other’s doctoral theses, and shared meals together here in Pensacola when he visited.

The idea that relational lines are set on social media and that friendships must be ruined makes no sense. There is a clear reason the Apostle John writes that he prefers to see you face-to-face rather than write in ink. He knew that warnings are received more persuasively through fleshly interactions.

Remember these things.

Notations

Malcolm and I never met, though we had planned to do so when we were both speaking at different conferences in Lancaster, PA. Unfortunately, a flight change derailed that happy gathering. Still, I have been a fan of his labors and his charming display of hobbitness; his weaving of gospel benedictions everywhere. This book (which I have been reading and listening to) is a fabulous display of Arthurian magic through poetic magic. I am neither a poet nor the son of a poet, but if there is a poet worth engaging, Guite is it.

Nuntium

I will be in Los Angeles in a couple of weeks speaking at Christ Church, Santa Clarita, and then doing a series of talks on virtue for a host of Bible-saturated teenagers at their Summer Sanctus, L.A. edition.

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We have a government that clearly acknowledges the mercies of God. The culture has dramatically changed. We are somewhere in a negative-positive world. However the math turns out, it’s a good thing to be in this country. It’s a good thing to be in this country far more than any other. The abundance. The freedom...to worship, to serve, to protest, to overcome.

This is unmistakably the greatest nation on earth. Nothing comes close to it. The world only complains about America because it is too hot (literally) to be at ease and build; because it is too undisciplined to start institutions; too lazy to navigate the turmoil among its leaders; too overcome by religious liberalism to seek an ounce of grace from the true God. They have to live in the glories of cathedrals built centuries ago, but America lives off its past, present, and future glory.

And even when America limps, she limps with resources other nations can only dream of possessing. She sins loudly, but she also repents publicly. She produces fools, but also men of uncommon courage. She births chaos, but also churches, schools, families, businesses, and institutions that outlive the cultural spasms of the moment. Her critics feed on her freedoms while denouncing the soil that grew them.

You may assume that I am just your run-of-the-mill theocrat boasting of its Christian legacy and advocating for Christian ideals in 2026. Well, that’s quite a generous compliment. I will take it, but I’ll add one more caveat: I am also a committed realist, eagerly advocating the glories of a country that is unmatched in beauty, natural beauty, vigor, divine vigor. We are a propositional people, but we also are a people with hearty propositions.

And because I am a realist, I do not need to pretend that America is sinless in order to say that she is glorious. I do not need to baptize every act of her rulers in order to give thanks for her founding mercies. God is perfect, but he is not a perfectionist (DW). I do not need to deny her blemishes in order to celebrate her blessings. Gratitude is not blindness. Patriotism is not propaganda. To love a nation rightly is to see both her wounds and her wonders, and to insist that the God who gave her such abundance still summons her to repentance, worship, and greatness.

So, yes, I will celebrate her. I will toast her today as I rejoice with my congregation. I will teach my children to honor her in songs and play. I will give thanks that of all the places God could have planted my life, he brought me here. And I will pray that this country, with all her wealth, beauty, discipline, madness, mercy, and might, would bend her knee more fully to the King from whom all nations receive their breath.

So, it came as a tremendous shock when one day I realized that there were Christians who thought differently about a host of things and to take it a step further, I realized that these other Christians were actually faithful Christians who were sincere and loved the Lord Jesus Christ. These saints loved the same Bible I loved, but they did things differently. They took some liberties I was not comfortable taking at the time.

The Corinthian Question: Meat Offered to Idols

The question of Christian liberty is one the Apostle Paul tackles head-on in I Corinthians 8. In that chapter, Paul addresses concerns the saints have about food offered to idols. Remember that in Corinth, the local pagan temples were where you went to socialize, meet important people, and eat meat. There were no Christian or neutral restaurants in Corinth; no Chick-Fil-A, only pagan temples with pagan priests who prepared the meat for your meal.

What would you do? Would you go to an explicitly pagan temple to eat meat offered to Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, Artemis? Would you become a vegetarian for the sake of the kingdom? Or would you eat meat and say, “These gods don’t really exist! Only the true God exists, so I can eat my prime rib rare, which is the way Jesus intended.”

That’s what the older Christians were saying at the Church, and Paul says, “Yes, you can eat that meat because the One True God created all animals and made them delicious to consume.”

Liberty with a Caveat

But Paul adds a caveat to the conversation. He says that there are new believers in the Corinthian Church, whom Paul says are weak in their faith; still taking baby steps in their Christian walk. In fact, they have just come out of pagan worship and are confused and perhaps they may stumble if they see more mature Christians eating at the temple.

They may say, “We were there worshipping the false gods, eating their meat; we ran away from that world, and now ya’ll are going to eat at that same temple?!” Some of them were confused by that reaction. Paul talks about it in verse 10:

When Knowledge Puffs Up

For Paul, the issue is not whether you have the liberty to do so. He says, “Yes, as a Christian you can go to the temple and eat there because God created all things and all things exist for Him.”

But when there is a weaker brother who is confused and does not understand why someone would eat food offered to a false god when that false god was his god not long ago, Paul adds some qualifications. It’s as if he is asking the question: “Is it better to have your way just to make a point? Is it better to show off your Christian liberty just because you think you can?”

This is the kind of knowledge that puffs up. To put it in simple terms, “Is that piece of steak at the temple more important than the soul of your fellow Christian brother or sister? Should we exercise our Christian liberty just because we can, or should love trump liberty?”

Of course, for the Apostle Paul, knowledge needs to be accompanied by love and there will be times when we will have to say no to things because we love our brother more than those things. Our liberties should never be more important than a fellow image-bearer for whom Christ died.

Sinning Against the Brethren

Paul concludes with the application of knowledge in the community in verses 12-13:

Are you prepared to go this far? If you are not, you are sinning against Christ. Think about Paul’s language of “conscience.” When we talk about our conscience, all sorts of ideas emerge. Paul says we can wound their conscience when it is weak. In other words, we can damage their ability to grow in the faith when we act without regard to our neighbor. Why? Because he is still learning and growing.

Learning to Love the Weak

Some years ago we had a new believer visit our church and he came to me afterward and said, “Pastor, I don’t think I even understood your sermon title. What does ‘sanctification’ mean?” “What does justification mean”? The things we take for granted are sometimes new ideas and concepts for new Christians.

So, Paul, for the sake of the Church, says, “You know what, if you know a young Christian who just came out of paganism, don’t say to him, “Hey, join me at the temple party.”

Paul is so deeply concerned about his brother or sister's well-being that he would stop eating meat to keep his brother from falling. He would defer to those who are weak; to those who are new to the faith.

How Shall We Then Live?

For Paul, there are more important things than eating meat, like the well-being of a brother or sister. The bottom line here is that you need to put others’ needs ahead of your own desires. What would you be willing to give up for a brother? Were you living in that first-century environment, would you become a vegetarian for him; would you allow love to trump your liberty?

Not Every Offense Is a Stumbling Block

Paul is not saying: “Hey, anytime a brother is offended by something you should do everything within your power not to offend him.” This would be a misapplication because the Pharisees were offended by all sorts of things and Jesus went out of his way to offend them even more so.

This passage sometimes has been understood to say that it is always wrong to cause offense. So, if you have a friend who is a teetotaler, someone who believes alcohol is of the devil, then they see this text as proof that we should never drink because it might cause an offense to someone who doesn’t.

But you can’t be—you are not allowed to be—offended by something the Bible explicitly affirms. The Bible says that drunkenness is a sin, not drinking. I think you need to be respectful of those who don’t drink but to drink in front of someone who doesn’t drink is not wrong if that person has no interest in drinking.

Let’s not confuse a tender conscience with false scruples. You are not held hostage to the false scruples of weak Christians.

Let’s say you meet a Christian who doesn’t believe you ought to watch any rated R movies as an adult because of language or violence. Should we only watch in secret for fear of offending him, or of him eventually hearing about it and being offended? No. Not at all. You can have your convictions for you and your family, but not the right to hold others hostage to them.

The Bible does not specifically condemn these things. You can apply that to food and a host of other topics. This is not what Paul has in mind. The context is not one we can relate to since the meat we eat has no associations with idols and there are thousands of options for eating and drinking and socializing that have nothing to do with pagan worship. Our Lord declared all foods clean.

The Modern Version of Meat Offered to Idols

The principle, however, is very applicable to us. The problem lies when you are around someone who has just abandoned a profound addiction; that’s the modern version of meat offered to idols. Someone who has taken a gift of God and abused it.

Let’s take alcoholism, for example. You need to respect someone’s weakness. You shouldn’t say to him, “Hey, it’s not a big deal. You’re a Christian. You have the Spirit within you. What’s a little drink going to do? Let’s try this new homebrewed beer I made.”

Don’t flaunt your liberty. The principle is: If you are aware of someone’s weakness, don’t flaunt your liberty. Don’t invite him nor tempt him. Or, assume you are made aware that your friend works all the time and is constantly away from his family. Don’t tempt him to go out with the boys at night when you know he needs to be with his family. Or, someone who just came out of a cult; don’t tempt her to go back and visit just out of curiosity.

Liberty for the Sake of the Body

Or, you can go around flaunting your liberty without any regard to the needs or temptations of others. It’s one thing to say, “I am grateful for this liberty.” It’s another thing to say, “Hey, look, I can do whatever I want because I am a baptized Christian.”

I really hope you can see the difference I am making because I think this is very important in our community, especially if God continues to increase our numbers. If we are doing our work, we are going to draw all sorts of new believers who come with weaknesses.

The freedoms we have in Christ are great. I love the Reformed perspective on the Bible because it allows us to use our discernment rather than simply dictating what’s right and what’s wrong. We can participate in cultural settings. We can go to parades, movies, read books written by pagan philosophers, drink the best wine, eat the best meat, but Paul shows us that we are not to be overly confident in a way that would mislead other members of the body.

Love is more important than our liberties. There is a bad use of knowledge which concerns itself mainly with my needs. There is a use of knowledge in the community that reminds us that we are using our liberties for the sake of the body, and there is a right application of knowledge that shows our weaker brothers, new converts, that we care much more about the unity of the Church and the well-being of the saints than our liberties as Christians.

Notations

Excellent stuff from Roman Roads on Singing, Feasting, and Dancing: The Glory of the Good Life.

Of course, no one is a racist! But whoever claims not to be sure spends a plentiful time breathing the same air as those who thrive in racial disinformation. As Doug Wilson is fond of saying,

True conservatives get accused of this stuff. True conservatives don’t care. But true conservatives are also interested in making sure the slander remains a slander.

As I have thought through this over the years, I’ve realized that various forms of racial and ethnic animosity are a common thread in a disenchanted world. It is far easier to find massive scapegoats to absolve our people of their political and social sins, or even our own. And whatever amount of energy spent in negating is often a mere attempt at disenchanting oneself slowly, but surely.

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I offer some observations about this work with tremendous hesitation. It’s not because I have reservations about the book, but it’s because I will have reservations about those who have yet to read it. I know. That sounds a little pretentious. Maybe the better word to express my regret is sadness—sadness for those who have not yet met this unpretentious man, named Josip Lasta.

But I also need to add that I am a charitable reader. And I am a charitable observer of humans. I work hard to see the best in people, and when they use their creative talents to speak eloquently about life, I tend to overlook minor nuances and personal habits and focus on the overarching glory of the thing. So, be charitable to my enthusiasm as I write some thoughts about this labor of love to humanity.

Like a Eulogy

Island of the World was a description of redemptive history. It read like a eulogy. Dust to dust…ashes to ashes. But the eulogy is a lengthy, well-defined biography of Josip. In fact, by the time the eulogizer ended his biography of the lean and tall Croatian, some of the attendees had died, because they too had lived in, under, and above Josip, like a sacramental offering.

Who is Josip? Josip is Joseph, who fled the flirtation of the American diplomat. Josip is David, who imparted wisdom. Josip is the widower, whose wife was found. He was the behemoth in Job who rose out of the waters with strength and glory. He was the aged man of Ecclesiastes whose body could no longer keep pace with his curiosity. He was the apostle to the weary and heavy-laden. Josip was all these things, but he was just ordinary. He was anonymous. He was convictional. He was popish, but not dismissive of Protestant ethos.

The book was over 800 pages long, though I spent most of it listening to and fro across the country—in planes, lounges, homes, gyms, pastoral visits, and more. Wherever I went, I listened. Whenever I thought I understood it, I was forced out of my logic.

O’Brien drew me to the earthiness of Josip’s childhood to the heavenliness of his religious conversion, and yet, it never felt trivial. The whole thing felt like a perfumed narrative. Yes. I could smell the countryside, the stench of prison camps, and the fish in his bathtub in Manhattan.

There is a lot to say, but I simply wish to state an existential reality: Josip set forth a path. He found things he thought he had lost forever, but he refused to let them go, crystallizing them in poetry. He carefully arranged in holy chiasms. Each one pierces the limits of emotions. He refuses to forsake the good in every endeavor. Each letter sent back to the U.S., each encounter with providential figures from his past. Each bullet fired and not fired (let the reader understand). Each swallow that flew into his window spoke to him. Each encounter with the crucified Christ. Well done, Josip! Whether you lived or not, I am thankful for the imaginative genius that made you alive for me, and for the many others who will listen to your story.

Notations

Endorsements

I am reaching middle age as a pastor and theologian. And I find myself writing endorsements for books cause that’s what aging pastors do, especially for friends. At this stage, I receive regular invitations to write something nice about new releases. I can’t take all the invites, but Andy Naselli is doing great work pastorally and academically. So, here are three cheers for his new commentary!

Notes on Reading

The whole affair of reading has me thinking that engaging in books is a community-forming exercise. They allow you to hear the wants and woes of others, and it builds “intellectual coalitions.”

The Church needs these coalitions to fight, to build, and to serve. We need the examples of Josips, Raskolnikovs, and Theos to teach us that life is exemplary; it’s imitative.

Books enable us to serve others with knowledge and insight by digging deep into the reservoir of our emotions. Sometimes, emotions we didn’t think we had, but we now know we needed. And it serves the body by urging others to tell their stories more compellingly.

Vice President’s NEW BOOK

Books written by politicians are like the art of poison ivy. But methinks this is an exception. Vance’s Hillbilly Elligy was a masterpiece which likely put Trump in office, so I have begun working my way through the discovery of what makes JD, JD!

While I think it conflicts with true Americana pathos, it should nevertheless be enjoyed as a dance or as a beautiful aria. Americans are not predisposed to love opera or waltzes, though I think they should. Maybe my proposal is that Americans love futebol as a stamp collection, as your grandpa did. Stamp collection is not intrinsic to the American spirit, but it does add charm to it.

An Ode

So, give me a couple of minutes to feast linguistically on the game played with a solitary ball.

To put it simply: I think there is no sport like it! It’s samba in motion; poetry of the bones. There is a kind of choreography to it, a waltz of bodies moving with incredible precision. The characters move according to a pre-planned agenda. And then, like a lion over her prey, she strikes with her inimitable splendor and achieves her intended goal…literally. Ok. I think you get my romantic inclinations towards futebol.

My complaint is not with the beauty of the thing. I have loved its glory since I was three, or so my mom says. My complaint is with the world, which often gathers around itself. I don’t think it’s good or healthy to babel-ize a sport. Or, maybe to megachurch an event.

There is a reason soccer feels less like a sport and more like a global language. There is a reason it catches the American spectator by surprise every four years for its meticulous movements, and then vanishes to the sidelines for the other 48 months. We can feast in its pauses, crescendos, false resolutions, tragic mistakes, and moments of near-liturgical ecstasy. Imagine a pass through the narrow gate, a Messi-like strike (unassumed by the fiercest defender) from impossible distance—these are not merely athletic actions; they are aesthetic events. Pelé, Garrincha, Maradona, Messi. Brilliance. Natural. Sublime.

One can oppose the cathedral's ideology while still admiring the stained glass. That’s the dance that I have loved for almost half a century. And that’s honestly the seeming contradiction I find myself in.

And perhaps that is why soccer is so dangerous and so delightful. It does not merely entertain; it enchants…but enchants at a universal level. It invites the nations to sing from the same hymnal, even if no one agrees on the god being worshiped. Shakespeare’s line comes to mind: “If music be the food of love, play on.” There is music here, no doubt. But music, like liturgy, always forms the soul.

So, even though I grant that it is not in America’s best interest to adopt its dance (for the reasons I mentioned in a previous essay), I reserve the right to admire the spectacle that gathers the world so easily and baptizes its unity in soccer fields across the globe. It conquered me ever since my goalie days near the favelas of northeastern Brazil. And it still conquers me, though I have been removed from that world for over 30 years.

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There is no health in this! I have seen it and by now can formulate an accurate analysis of this shenanigan.

Cyprian’s old warning still stands: “He can no longer have God for his Father, who has not the Church for his mother.” And Calvin, following the same ecclesial line of thinking, emphasizes the same truth when he says that “there is no other way to enter into life unless this mother conceive us in her womb, give us birth, nourish us at her breast.” The farther we stray from it, the farther we stray from truth.

The solution is less complicated than some may imply. We need to return to the ordinariness of church life from where spirituality, godliness, piety, courage, service, word and sacrament, and song shine brightest! The ordinary means of grace are not lesser realities because they are local, embodied, and repetitive. Nor is it lesser because it doesn’t provide a fantastical display of positive emotions, emojis, or economic highs.

Here is the thing: the local body is the very place where God forms a people. As Bonhoeffer wrote, “The physical presence of other Christians is a source of incomparable joy and strength to the believer.” We should believe this and rejoice.

This is easily provable…at least pastorally. This virtual world will not be with you in your time of need. This virtual place—assuming there are benefi—should be merely an extension of our first true world at the household of faith; the Israel of God; the holy, catholic, and apostolic church manifested in a communion of saints bound by vows and baptism, love and hope in the material realities of our spaces in counties and cities. That is where our true ecclesiology begins and ends year after year.

The church is not an algorithmic assembly. It is not a disembodied presbytery of hot takes. It is not a place where every man does what is right in his own feed. It is baptismal font, sacramental table, pulpit, prayers, elders, widows, children, psalms, casseroles, discipline, forgiveness, hospital visits, gravesides, and feast days. It is the place where Christ gives gifts to men and where men learn to receive those gifts without curating them for applause.

Remember your first love and rest in the Lord of the Church. The virtual world will constantly disappoint you with its ebbs and flows, but the Church will remain forever.

Nuntium

I am here again in the great Monroe, LA, home of the Robertson clan, ducks, and Coca-Cola…yes, this is the first place where Coca-Cola was bottled. At least that’s what them local folk say.

This is my tenth year at Jubilate Deo Music Camp. The first day, as the kids would say, has been epic! Friends far and wide. About 400 in attendance. Good coffee. Lots of heavy cream. And immense CREC hospitality. Here are a few pics from day one from Brian Moats.

Our hosts, the Caugheys, were superb a…

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As I come to the end of my three-year term as Presiding Minister of Council, I would like to reiterate some of our ideals. I know I have been repetitive these last 36 months, so to change things up, I will be liturgically repetitive this time. The reason for this is that I have no novelty to convey; I have only ideals to preserve.

While the CREC continues to grow—to be precise, 150% since 2020—it’s significant to guard our gates. Yes, we are gate-keepers! We take the cherubic Word of God and our distinct vision and seek to preserve them. Some wish to see the CREC as a big tent Reformed 4th of July party, and others wish to preserve our Westminsterian tradition with the added paedocommunion bonus. Still others would like to see a more eclectic confederation operating under “leave-us-alone” principles. The latter group has changed, adapted, or realized that it is rather too difficult to preserve a vision under libertarian worldviews.

Either way, as I have stated before, the purpose of the CREC is not to be the PCA without Tim Keller (or Kellerites) or the OPC without cranks like D.G. Hart. We reject third-wayism and dualism and Escondido-ism, but there is much more that comprises who we are. We are not some kind of GOP headquarters. Our interest is D.C., but it is also classrooms, coffee shops, and culture.

We are a communion of Reformed churches deeply interested in cultural renewal within the church and the home; as one of our founding fathers has stated, we want a theology that comes out of our fingertips. In short, we desire a liturgy that enriches God’s people with joy.

Even though our confessions, diverse yet unified, reflect our catholicity, there are identifiable distinctives that truly define us. We acknowledge that these may differ from the trajectory of other Reformed bodies, but they are the pillars of our 150+ churches. I will offer the big categories here and then elaborate on them. They are our eschatology, epistemology, and ecclesiology.

Our Eschatological Instinct

Our postmillennialism is deeply embedded in our lives. This is more than a preference for historical optimism. Postmillennialism is how we see the Bible moving. It is far from a mere academic discussion. In fact, it would not be easy to function happily in the CREC without that eschatological predisposition. It impacts everything from our preaching/teaching to our education and interpretation of the times, and our desire to recapture and build institutions.

We believe Christ is reigning now, and that fact changes the way we preach, teach, build, educate, and raise our children. We do not treat the Great Commission as an impossible dream. We don’t spiritualize it. We do not look at history as though Jesus were waiting to become King. He is King, and the nations belong to Him.

That confidence is not triumphalism. It is obedience with a future. It is the reason we can labor without panic, build without apology, and teach our children to sing Psalms as heirs rather than refugees.

Our Scriptural Starting Point

But connected to that eschatological vision are our starting presuppositions. The CREC asserts that we are not ashamed of the Word of God or its language. The language of the Scriptures is the vocabulary of heaven, and we submit to its wisdom in totality. It further gives us confidence in affirming doctrines like six-day creationism, though many consider us fundamentalists. It is nearly impossible to enter the CREC while denying the Genesis paradigm.

By affirming our commitment to biblical revelation, we are not belittling tradition but restoring tradition to its rightful place. The testimony of the church and tradition leads us to a high and reverent esteem for the Sacred Scriptures. In light of that, we find trajectories towards Rome or Eastern Orthodoxy to be more than dogmatic errors, but soul-errors that may, and have, damaged our Christian legacy and our Christian vision. The CREC is commitedly Protestant.

We do not begin with neutrality. We do not ask an autonomous man to approve the first sentence of Genesis before we believe it. We receive the Scriptures as the Word of the living God and then order our thinking, worship, homes, schools, and public witness accordingly.

Our Covenantal Table

Finally, our paedocommunion practice is fundamental to our existence as a whole. While this is the practice of the CREC everywhere, or at least 99% of our churches, it’s crucial to note that without the communing of baptized children, the CREC would fail to offer the grounds for our covenantal theology. Covenant communion is the way we enflesh our theology of children.

We affirm that baptized children shall receive all the covenant benefits. We also believe that they are integral members of the body of Christ, without whom worship would be incomplete. While some congregations can function outside this system, they must understand that they are co-laboring with an undeniable majority who believe life and table, water and word, bread and wine, worship, and participation belong unto them.

This is not a small liturgical preference. It is tied to how we view the covenant, the church, worship, children, and the promises of God. Our children are not spectators of the faith. They are not tolerated in the assembly until they become useful. They are members of Christ’s body, and the Table is part of their inheritance.

We are happy to form fraternal relations with many denominations, and we have a growing sense of unity with a host of institutions and denominations that share our conservative political convictions against the insanity of the leftist ideologues. The goal is to build much more on those in the months and years ahead.

But fraternity does not mean confusion. We can labor alongside brothers in other communions without pretending we are the same institution. We should be grateful for shared causes, but we should not be embarrassed by our own commitments.

While we wish to continue growing, we understand that not every church is a good fit for the CREC. While we cherish the hundreds of inquiries we receive worldwide and the overwhelming interest in our communion, we also want to grow in a manner that honors who we are without diluting the principles that have made us who we are.

Growth is good, but growth without clarity is not health. We do not want to become a generic conservative Reformed landing place. We want churches that understand our grammar: postmillennial, presuppositional, covenantal, liturgical, catholic, and cheerful under the reign of Christ.

In short, we are Contra mundum, pro Christo, which is not merely a motto. It is a way of seeing the world, loving the church, raising our children, and laboring for the kingdom. This is who we are. This is the CREC!

Notations

At Eden, the way to the tree was closed by sin. At Calvary, the way was opened by blood. In the Supper, the church begins to taste that life now. In the New Jerusalem, she eats of it forever.

Adam fell because he reached for the gift before the gift was his. He sought to coronate himself before the Lord of heaven crowned him.

The growing interest in Africa and South America for the CREC is a testament to the fact that good liturgy is translatable and adaptable.

Our trip was splendid. Our gracious hosts were sublime, the music flowed, and I am now the proud father of a high school graduate. God is kind.

It was great to see old friends in Moscow, make new ones, and fellowship with all sorts of good people. Moscow continues to thrive in hospitality and projects. If things continue on this trajectory, the only purple hairs available in town will be in the portraits of the museum of lost cultures.

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The most beautiful rhythms of our lives were developed through persistence. But we have grown to believe that life needs to be dramatic and unpredictable; that we need a cycle of shock and awe to get us through the day. But this is not how God formed the world, and it is not how he forms his people.

The common is the thing that shapes our experiences. We are made to be liturgical creatures because God created a world of order from the beginning. He created seasons. He established time to guide our rhythms. He offered the world the gift of 6×1: work and sabbath, labor and rest, creation and consecration.

Liturgy shapes our rhythms and rituals. It trains our loves before we can explain them. It gives the body a grammar of faith. It teaches us when to kneel, when to rise, when to confess, when to feast, when to mourn, and when to sing.

The Psalter teaches us that there are seasons to lament and seasons to rejoice; and sometimes seasons to lament and rejoice within a very short period of time. It teaches us the language of life in all its dimensions. It gives words to grief, melody to gratitude, courage to the weak, and praise to the weary. The Psalms do not allow us to live in one emotional key. They teach us to sing the whole of life before the face of God.

To put it directly: if it can be demonstrated that even the “least of these” can articulate faith, then the defense of infant baptism becomes robust and compelling. The premise is not simply: “Parents stand for the children,” but “each child stands for himself.”

The question is not whether infants can pass a theological exam. The question is whether God recognizes, receives, blesses, incorporates, and gives faith to covenant children before they possess mature intellectual self-awareness. And the testimony of Scripture is that He does.

The premises that must be met are the following:

a) There must be examples of a covenant people that manifest faith in their infancy as a society.

Israel is called God’s son from infancy: “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called My son” (Hosea 11:1). The entire nation, including nursing infants and little ones, is brought through the waters of deliverance and constituted as a redeemed people. Paul later says 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” (I Corinthians 10:1–2). This includes the children in the covenantal passage from death to life.

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