Previously, we began examining the transmission of the New Testament, particularly notable textual variants and how textual critics attempt to determine from them what the autographs, the original writings of the New Testament, actually said.

It should be emphasized again that the vast majority of differences among the manuscripts are virtually meaningless. Most consist of spelling errors or obvious scribal mistakes. Even among the so-called meaningful differences, not one affects any foundational doctrine of the Christian faith. Despite these variations, Christianity itself has not changed in the least.

Luke 23:34 and a Divided Manuscript Tradition

I said previously that I would offer six examples of notable textual variants. We have already considered one of them in John 5. Next, we turn to Luke 23.

From the outset, it should be said that among the textual variants in the New Testament manuscripts that carry any real significance, this one has proven to be among the most difficult. By difficult, I mean that scholars remain deeply divided over whether this statement originally belonged to Luke’s Gospel.

The textual variant appears in the first half of verse 34. In the ESV, we read, “And Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’” (Luke 23:34).

This is, of course, one of the most well-known statements attributed to Jesus while hanging on the cross. Yet the manuscript evidence raises questions about whether Luke actually recorded Jesus saying this. Luke is also the only Gospel writer who potentially includes the statement. Therefore, if the evidence ultimately showed that the words were not original to Luke’s Gospel, we would have no direct biblical record of Jesus making this statement from the cross.

What, then, does the manuscript evidence reveal?

To answer that question, it is helpful to return to our conceptual table of manuscripts. Previously, we imagined all surviving manuscripts laid out chronologically and grouped according to category. Greek manuscripts were placed together. Ancient translations into other languages formed another category. Then we considered the writings of early Christians, who frequently quoted the New Testament, thereby providing additional evidence for the text’s transmission. We also grouped manuscripts by geographical region in order to determine how widespread particular textual variants became. Returning to that conceptual table allows us to trace what happened to Luke 23:34 throughout the history of the New Testament’s transmission.

In the case of John 5:4, the evidence was relatively straightforward. The verse was absent from the earliest sources for centuries. Eventually, one form of the reading appeared before it was later incorporated into subsequent manuscripts. Luke 23:34, however, presents a much more complex picture.

The surviving copies from the second and third centuries do not contain this saying of Jesus. At the same time, both Irenaeus and Origen from roughly the same period appear to allude to the statement. This suggests that they were familiar with it, whether through oral tradition or through copies of Luke’s Gospel available to them.

Moving into the fourth century, some of the most respected and reliable manuscripts omit the statement, while others include it. Most Latin translations from this same period also contain it.

The pattern continues into the fifth and sixth centuries. Some manuscripts include the statement. Others omit it. Some translations preserve it, while others do not. By the medieval period, however, the majority of manuscripts and translations include the passage.

What explains this pattern?

Two primary theories have emerged. Some scholars argue that Jesus truly spoke these words and that Luke originally recorded them, but later scribes omitted the statement. According to this view, scribes may have been troubled by Jesus so readily forgiving those responsible for his crucifixion. Others suggest they were uncomfortable with the possibility that Jesus’ prayer appeared unanswered, especially in light of the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans in AD 70.

The opposing theory maintains that Luke did not originally write the statement and that it was later added by a scribe. Why would a scribe insert it? Primarily because it sounds very much like something Jesus would say. Some also suggest that the wording may have been influenced by the book of Acts, Luke’s second volume, in which Stephen offers a remarkably similar prayer while being stoned to death.

As noted already, this remains a difficult textual variant. The external evidence is not decisively clear. The statement is absent from the earliest manuscripts, yet it appears very early in the tradition and is referenced by early Christian writers. Furthermore, neither inclusion nor omission is confined to a single geographical region. Both readings appear across multiple locations and textual traditions.

So which reading is original? Does the statement belong in Luke’s Gospel or not?

Unfortunately, there is no definitive answer. Nevertheless, two observations are worth making.

First, whether this statement is original or not, no foundational doctrine is affected. The passage certainly highlights a particular aspect of Jesus’ character, but our understanding of his compassion and willingness to forgive does not rest on this verse alone. Everything revealed about Jesus throughout the Gospels consistently points to that same character.

Second, for what it is worth, I am personally inclined to believe that this is an authentic statement of Jesus preserved by Luke. Reflecting on the principles of textual criticism discussed previously, it seems more plausible to me that a scribe would remove this statement than invent and insert it. Given the hostility that existed between Jews and Christians during portions of this period, it is understandable that some Christians may have been tempted to diminish expressions of Jesus’ compassion toward his executioners. It seems less likely that a scribe would deliberately add words to amplify that compassion.

This also appears to have been the judgment of most Bible translators throughout history, which explains why the statement remains in modern New Testaments.

Finally, the saying fits naturally within Luke’s Gospel itself, where themes of compassion, mercy, and forgiveness consistently occupy a central place.

Acts 8:37 and the History of the Textus Receptus

Next, we move to Acts 8, the account of Philip baptizing the Ethiopian eunuch.

Philip encounters this man reading from the book of Isaiah. The eunuch has questions about what he is reading, and Philip explains the passage to him. In the ESV, we read:

And as they were going along the road they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “See, here is water! What prevents me from being baptized?” And he commanded the chariot to stop, and they both went down into the water, Philip and the eunuch, and he baptized him. (Acts 8:36–38)

Those familiar with the King James Version will immediately notice that part of the conversation appears to be missing. According to the ESV footnote, “Some manuscripts add all or most of verse 37: And Philip said, ‘If you believe with all your heart, you may.’ And he replied, ‘I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.’”

What happened here? Is this an example of modern Bible translations removing a verse from Scripture?

No. In fact, modern translations are remarkably transparent about the manuscript evidence. Even when translators conclude that a verse appearing in an older translation, such as the King James Version, was not part of the original text, they still include the wording in the footnotes. Clearly, there is no attempt at deception.

This brief exchange between Philip and the eunuch does not appear in any surviving Greek manuscript until the sixth century. It is also absent from most ancient translations. However, Irenaeus appears to quote the passage in the latter part of the second century, and it does appear in some, though not all, second and third-century Latin manuscripts.

When all the evidence is considered together, the safest conclusion is that the verse was not original to the text of Acts, though it was clearly a very early addition within the Western-Latin textual tradition.

If we speculate about its origin, it likely emerged from an early baptismal liturgy. The baptizer may have asked, “Do you believe with all your heart?” and the candidate for baptism may have responded, “I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.” Scribes reading the account of Philip and the eunuch may have noticed that the eunuch never explicitly professes faith prior to baptism, and so they inserted the familiar church formula into the narrative. Another possibility is that a scribe wrote the baptismal confession as a margin note, which a later scribe mistakenly incorporated into the text itself.

What is especially interesting about this variant is that it never became widely perpetuated in the Greek manuscript tradition. Frequently, an addition enters the text early and eventually becomes nearly universal among the later Byzantine manuscripts, which again constitute the majority of surviving Greek manuscripts. Over time, the altered reading effectively becomes standardized. Yet that did not happen in this case. Most Byzantine manuscripts do not contain verse 37.

So how did it find its way into the King James Version?

As mentioned previously, the King James Version was translated primarily from a small collection of later Byzantine manuscripts. If most Byzantine manuscripts omitted verse 37, why did the translators include it?

To answer that question, we must consider the work of the Catholic priest and scholar Desiderius Erasmus. Erasmus was a contemporary of Martin Luther, and the two famously debated issues such as total depravity and free will. At the time, the Roman Catholic Church had relied for more than a thousand years on the Latin Vulgate, a Latin translation of the Bible. Erasmus recognized, however, that the Vulgate itself contained numerous scribal errors accumulated through centuries of hand-copying. He therefore set out to produce a fresh Latin translation based directly on Greek manuscripts, since Greek was the original language of the New Testament.

To summarize a complicated history briefly, Erasmus gathered as many Greek manuscripts as he could obtain. Unfortunately, he had access to very few. Depending on how they are counted, he likely worked with somewhere between eight and twelve manuscripts, all of them relatively late Byzantine copies. Arguably, this was still preferable to relying solely on a Latin translation that had itself been copied by hand for over a millennium. Nevertheless, Erasmus lacked access to the much older Greek manuscripts that would later be discovered.

It should also be remembered that Erasmus worked under considerable pressure. He was competing to publish the first Greek New Testament in the age of the newly invented printing press. Speed mattered.

Complicating matters further, Erasmus did not even possess a complete Greek New Testament. In portions of Revelation where his Greek manuscripts were deficient, he back-translated the Latin Vulgate into Greek and then translated it back into Latin again. As strange as that sounds, he did so because he intended to publish a parallel edition with Greek on one side and Latin on the other. He therefore needed a complete Greek text to accompany the Latin.

Erasmus eventually published five editions of his Greek New Testament. Each edition included revisions and corrections to the previous one. This Greek text would later become the foundation for what eventually came to be known as the Textus Receptus, the underlying Greek text behind the King James Version. Technically, later editors revised Erasmus’s work before the King James translators used it, but Erasmus’s text remained its essential basis.

Returning now to Acts 8, verse 37 was absent from most Byzantine manuscripts. Yet among the small number of manuscripts Erasmus possessed, one contained the verse as a marginal note. Why, then, did Erasmus include it in his printed text?

Primarily because it appeared in the Latin Vulgate. Though Erasmus wanted to correct the Vulgate where necessary, he also faced immense pressure not to depart too dramatically from a translation that had served as the Bible of the Western church for more than a thousand years. Altering familiar biblical traditions carried serious risks.

As a result, despite the overwhelming manuscript evidence against including verse 37, evidence that was already available in Erasmus’s own day, he nevertheless included it, likely to avoid unnecessary controversy and secure approval for his work. That reading was then inherited by the King James Version.

Thus, while it may appear at first glance that modern translations have removed a verse from the Bible, the historical reality is the opposite. The verse was a later addition to the text that has now been removed from the main body of Scripture and placed in the footnotes where it belongs.

The Comma Johanneum and the Doctrine of the Trinity

Next, we turn to another textual variant involving Erasmus, this time in 1 John 5.

In the ESV, we read, “For there are three that testify: the Spirit and the water and the blood; and these three agree” (1 John 5:7-8).

Anyone familiar with the King James Version will immediately recognize that something appears to be missing. In the KJV, the passage reads:

For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one. And there are three that bear witness in earth, the Spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three agree in one. (1 John 5:7–8)

What may strike us first about this particular variant is that I have repeatedly argued that no textual variant affects any foundational doctrine of the Christian faith, yet here we appear to have an unmistakably explicit Trinitarian statement removed from modern translations. How, then, can it still be said that no textual variant alters Christian orthodoxy?

Before answering that question, we should first examine how this variant entered the textual tradition.

Returning again to our conceptual table of manuscripts, if we focus exclusively on the Greek manuscripts of 1 John, we do not find this Trinitarian statement in a single Greek copy until the tenth century. Even there, it does not appear within the actual text of 1 John itself. Rather, it exists only as a marginal note. The same pattern appears in a few additional Greek manuscripts from the twelfth through the fifteenth centuries. The statement remains in the margins, not in the body of the text.

There is one Greek manuscript from 1215 that includes the phrase in the text. However, this manuscript carries little weight because it is not a normal Greek manuscript copied from another Greek manuscript. Instead, it appears to be a Greek translation made from a Latin source. The same is true of another fourteenth-century manuscript that includes the phrase in the text. Once again, it appears to be dependent on the Latin tradition rather than the Greek.

In short, there is no evidence of a genuine Greek manuscript copied from the Greek textual tradition that includes this Trinitarian statement until approximately the year 1520. That date will be extremely important in a moment.

Looking now beyond the Greek manuscripts to the ancient translations, the phrase first appears in some Latin manuscripts during the fifth century. Over time, it became increasingly common in the Latin textual tradition and eventually became embedded in the Latin Vulgate, which, as noted previously, served as the standard Bible of the Roman Catholic Church for more than a thousand years. This explains why some later Greek manuscripts contain the phrase in the margins and why certain Greek manuscripts translated from Latin include it directly in the text.

Essentially, the phrase entered portions of the Latin manuscript tradition and was perpetuated there, but it never meaningfully penetrated the authentic Greek stream of transmission. That fact alone is highly significant. Indeed, this may be one of the clearest examples of a textual addition not part of the original Scripture. John simply did not write these words.

Further evidence comes from the writings of the early church fathers. Consider someone such as Athanasius, who spent much of his ministry defending the doctrine of the Trinity against various heresies. If this explicit Trinitarian statement had existed in the biblical manuscripts available to him, Athanasius almost certainly would have cited it repeatedly. Yet he never does. Neither do any of the other early defenders of Nicene orthodoxy. The phrase only begins to appear after it emerges in portions of the Latin manuscript tradition.

Where, then, did it originate?

A footnote in the NET Bible offers a likely explanation:

The reading seems to have arisen in a 4th-century Latin homily in which the text was allegorized to refer to members of the Trinity. From there, it made its way into copies of the Latin Vulgate, the text used by the Roman Catholic Church.

In other words, someone interpreted “the Spirit and the water and the blood” allegorically as references to the Trinity. From there, explanatory comments may have been written into the margins before eventually being copied directly into the biblical text itself. Whether this occurred gradually through marginal glosses or through deliberate insertion, the conclusion remains the same. The phrase was not original to 1 John.

This raises an obvious question. If the phrase is absent from the Greek manuscript tradition, how did it enter the King James Version?

Again, the answer brings us back to Erasmus.

When Erasmus published the first edition of his Greek New Testament, he omitted the Trinitarian phrase because it was absent from the Greek manuscripts available to him. He omitted it again in his second edition for the same reason.

This created enormous controversy.

Erasmus was already engaged in tension with many within the Roman Catholic establishment. His stated goal was to correct errors in the Latin Vulgate by returning ad fontes, “to the sources.” He believed translators should go back to the original Greek text and produce a fresh Latin translation from scratch. Yet the church’s response was effectively, “That is acceptable, so long as you do not substantially alter the Vulgate.”

The conflict became especially severe when readers discovered that Erasmus’s New Testament omitted this beloved Trinitarian statement. Critics accused him of heresy and even of denying the Trinity itself.

Erasmus defended himself very simply. If the phrase existed in the Greek manuscripts, he said, he would gladly include it. He was not attempting to promote false doctrine or remove Scripture. He was merely trying to remain faithful to the Greek textual evidence. Eventually, he challenged his critics directly, declaring that if they could produce even one Greek manuscript containing the phrase, he would include it in a future edition.

Predictably, someone soon claimed to have found such a manuscript.

Recall the important date mentioned earlier. Erasmus published his first edition in 1516. The lone Greek manuscript containing the phrase in the text itself dates from approximately 1520. Even Erasmus recognized that this “newly discovered” manuscript was highly suspect. He understood that it had likely been produced specifically to pressure him into including the passage.

Nevertheless, Erasmus eventually yielded and inserted the phrase into his third edition. In the accompanying notes, he explained that he had restored the text “so as not to give anyone an occasion for slander.” He also openly acknowledged that the Greek and Latin manuscripts differed on this reading and remarked that he saw no danger in accepting either text.

In other words, Erasmus knew the phrase belonged to the Latin tradition rather than the Greek. Yet he also believed that including it would not create theological harm. Once inserted into his printed Greek text, the passage was carried forward into the Textus Receptus and ultimately into the King James Version, along with many other Reformation-era translations.

This returns us to the earlier claim that no textual variant undermines Christian orthodoxy.

On one level, this variant certainly touches on Christian doctrine, as it concerns the Trinity itself. Yet the doctrine of the Trinity neither stands nor falls upon this single passage. Long before this phrase appeared in the biblical text, Athanasius and countless other Christians were already defending the doctrine on the basis of Scripture. The Trinity is taught throughout the Bible. This verse may provide a convenient proof text, but the doctrine does not depend upon it.

The Woman Caught in Adultery

With that, we come to two more notable textual variants, and these are by far the largest in terms of length.

The first appears in John 8, the story of the woman caught in adultery. In the account, the crowd is prepared to stone the woman when Jesus says, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her” (John 8:7).

Then Jesus bends down and writes in the dirt. By the time he looks up again, the crowd has dispersed. Finally, he says to the woman, “Go, and from now on sin no more” (John 8:11).

This has long been one of the most beloved stories associated with Jesus. Understandably, many people do not want to hear that there are significant textual questions surrounding it. The good news and bad news, however, depend entirely on how we understand the manuscript evidence.

The story is absent from the Greek manuscript tradition until somewhere between the eighth and tenth centuries. Having said that, there is evidence that the account itself was circulating through oral tradition much earlier. Augustine, for example, was familiar with the story in the fourth century. He even argued that it belonged in Scripture and speculated that some earlier scribes may have removed it because they feared it would encourage adultery by appearing too lenient. As far as we know, Augustine had no actual manuscript evidence to support that theory, but his comments do demonstrate how widespread and influential the story had already become. It also helps explain why the account appears in at least some Latin manuscripts beginning in the fifth century.

Once the story begins appearing in the Greek manuscripts, something unusual happens. The passage moves.

That fact alone is a significant indication that the text did not originally belong to John’s Gospel. In some manuscripts, the story appears after John 7:36. In others, it appears after John 21:25, at the very end of the Gospel. In still others, it comes after John 8:12. Some manuscripts even attach the story to the end of Luke’s Gospel. Only later does the account eventually settle into the familiar location between John 7 and 8.

All of this strongly suggests that the story was not originally part of John’s Gospel, or likely any of the canonical Gospels. At the same time, it was obviously a well-known and beloved story within the early church. Scribes appear repeatedly to have searched for an appropriate place to insert it into the New Testament text.

So, for those who love this story and wish it belonged in the Bible, the bad news is that it almost certainly was not original to John. The good news, however, is that it remains entirely possible that this is a genuine historical account preserved through oral tradition. John himself writes, “Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” (John 21:25).

There is nothing about this story that feels inconsistent with the character of Jesus revealed throughout the Gospels. On the contrary, it reflects his mercy, wisdom, and moral seriousness remarkably well. Personally, I believe the account very likely preserves a true story about Jesus, even though I do not believe it was divinely inspired Scripture in the same sense as the rest of John’s Gospel.

The Longer Ending of Mark

Finally, we come to the last example, the ending of Mark’s Gospel.

The textual variant in question is Mark 16:9–20, a passage bracketed in most modern Bibles. The entire section constitutes a textual variant.

To summarize the manuscript evidence briefly, no surviving Greek manuscript contains verses 9 through 20 until the fifth century. Interestingly, Eusebius, writing in the fourth century, acknowledged awareness of the longer ending of Mark, though he admitted he had not personally seen any manuscripts containing it. Jerome makes essentially the same observation in the late fourth or early fifth century.

Once we reach the fifth century, however, manuscripts begin appearing with one of two alternate endings. Some manuscripts still conclude at verse 8. Others contain what is commonly called the shorter ending of Mark, which reads,

But they reported briefly to Peter and those with him all that they had been told. And after this, Jesus himself sent out by means of them, from east to west, the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation.

There are several minor variations of this shorter ending, but that wording captures its basic form.

Throughout the fifth century, most manuscripts continued to end at verse 8, while some contained the shorter ending and others the longer ending found in verses 9 through 20. This pattern continues until the later Byzantine manuscript tradition largely standardizes the longer ending. Even then, some manuscripts include markings or symbols indicating that scribes questioned its originality.

Beyond the external manuscript evidence, there are also significant internal reasons for doubting that the longer ending was written by Mark.

The first concerns vocabulary and style. The language of the longer ending differs noticeably from the rest of Mark’s Gospel. The vocabulary, sentence structure, and overall style do not align naturally with Mark’s usual writing style.

The second issue involves tensions within the narrative itself. Perhaps “contradictions” is too strong a term, but the longer ending does create certain inconsistencies. For example, Mary Magdalene is reintroduced in verse 9, even though Mark has already mentioned her twice earlier in the narrative. It seems unusual that Mark would pause at this point to provide additional background information about her.

Likewise, Mark records earlier in chapter 14 that Jesus promised to meet the disciples in Galilee. Yet the longer ending, seemingly influenced by the other Gospel accounts, emphasizes appearances occurring in Jerusalem instead.

Then there is the unusual statement in verse 18: “They will pick up serpents with their hands; and if they drink any deadly poison, it will not hurt them” (Mark 16:18).

The reference to handling serpents likely alludes to Paul surviving a snakebite in the book of Acts. The reference to drinking poison has no clear parallel elsewhere in Scripture. More broadly, the themes of snake handling, speaking in tongues, casting out demons, and similar signs feel less like the language and emphasis of the Gospels and more like reflections upon the apostolic era as described in Acts.

Additional examples could be cited, but by this point, the evidence simply continues to accumulate in the same direction. Nearly every line of evidence suggests that the longer ending was not original to Mark’s Gospel.

This leads naturally to the third consideration, which relates directly to the principles of textual criticism discussed previously. The general rule is that the reading that best explains the origins of the other readings is usually the original. Scribes frequently attempted to smooth out difficult passages. Rarely did they make a text more abrupt, confusing, or unresolved.

Now consider how Mark’s Gospel ends if it concludes at verse 8: “And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid” (Mark 16:8).

And that is the end of the Gospel.

It is undeniably abrupt. In fact, it feels unresolved, especially when compared to the fuller resurrection narratives found in the other Gospels.

So which scenario appears more likely? Did Mark originally compose the longer ending, only for a scribe later to remove it for no obvious reason? Or did Mark conclude abruptly at verse 8, prompting later scribes to supply a more satisfying conclusion that harmonized more naturally with the other Gospel accounts?

Once all the evidence is considered together, the conclusion becomes fairly clear. Mark did not write the longer ending.

This raises another question. Why do modern translations continue printing these longer textual variants in brackets instead of removing them entirely or placing them only in the footnotes?

The answer is partly transparency. Modern translations aim to present the manuscript evidence honestly and clearly to readers. Scripture did not descend from heaven in a pre-printed English edition exactly as we now possess it. Rather, God providentially preserved His Word throughout a long and complex history of transmission.

The reason these passages are not simply relegated to footnotes is similar to the reason Erasmus retained certain traditional readings from the Latin Vulgate despite weak support from Greek manuscripts. These passages have become deeply embedded in the church’s historical memory and liturgical practice, largely due to the longstanding influence of the King James Version.

At this point, I had hoped to move on to a discussion of Bible translations themselves, but we will extend the series by one additional week. We still need to examine why the NIV may render a passage differently than the ESV, what translation philosophies distinguish these various versions, and how Christians should think about them.

Before concluding the study altogether, we also need to address the issue of inerrancy. Can we still describe the Bible as inerrant after seeing these textual variants? And what should we make of biblical passages that seem to promise that God’s Word would never change?

We will return to those questions next week.

Previously, we began examining the transmission of the New Testament. A brief reminder will suffice before moving forward. The copying of the New Testament differed significantly from that of the Old Testament. Old Testament transmission was highly centralized, carried out primarily by professional scribes in specific locations and under strict guidelines.

Such conditions were not possible for the New Testament, at least for several centuries. The early church was geographically dispersed and frequently subjected to persecution. As a result, the copying of New Testament writings was undertaken by a wide range of individuals, both trained and untrained, often working quickly to meet demand. Predictably, this process resulted in less uniform copies. At the same time, it produced far more manuscripts.

Organizing the Manuscript Evidence

To understand how the New Testament text has been preserved, it is helpful to picture a large table on which every existing manuscript is laid out. In Greek alone, there are approximately 5,800 surviving manuscripts. These demand primary attention because the New Testament was originally written in Greek. They represent direct, word-for-word, letter-for-letter copies of the text.

Alongside these Greek manuscripts are thousands of early translations. Many of these translations are quite ancient and provide valuable insight into the text’s history. Still, they remain secondary witnesses. A copy in the original language necessarily carries greater precision than any translation, no matter how early or careful.

To this collection, we also add the writings of early Christians such as Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Origen, Eusebius, and Augustine. These authors frequently quoted the New Testament in their works, providing a window into the manuscripts available to them in their own time.

With all of these witnesses before us, the next step is organization. One could arrange the Greek manuscripts in a single chronological sequence by date of production. Beneath them, the translations could be arranged similarly, followed by the extra-biblical patristic sources. Such an arrangement allows us to trace the development of the text over time. Moving along this timeline, it becomes possible to observe when a variant first appears and to follow its trajectory. One can ask whether later scribes recognized and corrected a reading, or continued to reproduce it.

Yet chronological arrangement alone is insufficient. It tells only part of the story. The manuscripts must also be grouped according to what are commonly called text types or manuscript families. Because the early church was scattered throughout the Roman Empire, communities copied the New Testament independently of one another. When a textual change occurred, its origin and geographical spread are significant. A variant confined to a single region carries a different weight than one attested across multiple regions.

Among these manuscript families, two are especially significant: the Alexandrian and Byzantine text types.

The Alexandrian manuscripts are generally earlier and associated with regions such as Egypt, where the dry, stable climate contributed to their preservation. These manuscripts often exhibit readings that are less polished and less harmonized, a feature that will be examined further.

By contrast, the Byzantine manuscripts are later and constitute the majority of surviving copies. This is not surprising, given their chronological proximity. These manuscripts tend to display smoother readings, greater harmonization between parallel passages, and a tendency toward longer forms of the text. The reasons for these characteristics will be considered in due course.

Evaluating Textual Variants

With our table of manuscripts now arranged and organized, an important question emerges. What do we actually learn from this evidence? At first glance, the data can seem alarming. Among the approximately 5,800 Greek manuscripts of the New Testament, there are as many as half a million textual variants.

Such a number may appear troubling. How can the reliability of Scripture be maintained in light of so many differences? Yet raw numbers, taken in isolation, can be deeply misleading.

To bring clarity, consider a more controlled example. Set aside all other manuscripts and focus exclusively on the Greek copies of the book of Jude. This epistle serves well as a test case because it is the shortest book in the New Testament, containing approximately 461 words in Greek. In total, there are about 560 surviving Greek manuscripts of Jude. Among them, 1,694 textual variants can be identified.

At face value, this seems overwhelming. It suggests multiple variants for nearly every word in the letter. However, responsible textual criticism does not stop at counting differences. It proceeds by classifying them, recognizing that not all variants carry equal weight.

The first category consists of nonsense readings. These are simple scribal errors, equivalent to typographical mistakes. In many cases, the resulting word is not even a valid Greek term. Such errors are immediately recognizable and require no comparison with other manuscripts to identify and correct.

The second category includes singular readings. These are variants found in only one manuscript. When a reading appears in isolation, it strongly indicates a localized mistake by an individual scribe. Such readings can be set aside with a high degree of confidence.

When nonsense readings and singular readings are removed from consideration, more than half of the total variants disappear. The number is reduced from nearly 1,700 to approximately 785.

The third category involves spelling differences. Ancient spelling was not standardized, and scribes often wrote the same word in different ways. These variations do not affect meaning.

The fourth category includes minor grammatical differences. These may involve word order or the presence of an article before a proper name. For example, a scribe might write “the Paul” instead of simply “Paul.” In Greek, such variations often do not alter the sense of the sentence and are frequently untranslatable into English.

Once these categories are set aside, the number of variants that meaningfully affect the structure of a sentence is reduced to forty-seven. Even this figure requires further qualification. When translated into English, most of these remaining differences have no discernible impact on meaning.

This reality is reflected in modern translations. The New International Version includes only two footnotes in Jude that indicate any significant textual variation, while the English Standard Version includes only one.

The most notable example appears in Jude 5. One reading identifies the subject as “Jesus,” while another identifies it as “the Lord.” The difference is genuine and worthy of discussion, yet its theological impact is minimal. The broader witness of Scripture leaves no uncertainty regarding the identity and work of Christ. Jesus Christ is consistently presented as divine and active in creation and redemption.

Therefore, even in the presence of this meaningful variant, no core doctrine is altered. Whether the text reads “Jesus” or “the Lord,” the theological truth remains intact. The Lord delivered his people from Egypt, and the New Testament affirms that Christ himself is fully involved in God’s saving work.

The Guiding Principle of Textual Criticism

This provides an appropriate moment to introduce what is often called the golden rule of textual criticism. By textual criticism, we mean the careful comparison of manuscripts in order to determine, as closely as possible, what the original writings, or autographs, contained. The guiding principle can be stated simply: the reading that best explains the existence of the other variants is most likely the original. In other words, textual critics prefer the reading that most plausibly accounts for how the other readings arose.

Consider the example of Jude 5 again. The question is whether the original text read “the Lord” or “Jesus.” Which scenario is more likely? Did Jude write “the Lord,” only for a later scribe to change it to “Jesus”? Or did Jude write “Jesus,” with a subsequent scribe altering it to “the Lord”?

At first glance, one might assume that scribes had greater motivation to insert the name “Jesus,” since doing so would make explicit his role in the salvation of God’s people. Yet the opposite possibility deserves careful consideration. A reader familiar with the Exodus account would expect to see “the Lord,” not “Jesus.” Encountering the name “Jesus” in that context could feel unexpected, even unsettling. The shift can be jarring, particularly for those accustomed to translations such as the King James Version, which reads “the Lord,” in contrast to the English Standard Version, which reads “Jesus.”

The manuscript evidence adds further weight. Some of the earliest and most reliable witnesses, along with other ancient sources, support the reading “Jesus.” This presents what is often described as the more difficult reading. While it is theologically sound to affirm that Jesus Christ was active in the salvation of Israel, the explicit use of his name in this context can appear unexpected.

This difficulty is significant. Scribes did not typically make texts more challenging. Their natural tendency was to smooth out perceived problems, to harmonize passages, or to clarify what seemed unclear. A scribe encountering “Jesus” in Jude 5 might well have assumed it to be an error or an awkward expression and replaced it with the more familiar “the Lord.”

This pattern appears frequently in the transmission of the New Testament. Readings tend to become smoother, more harmonized, and more immediately understandable over time.

For this reason, textual critics ask several key questions when evaluating variants. Which reading most plausibly gave rise to the others? Which reading would scribes be most likely to change? Which reading best fits the full range of manuscript evidence? By applying these questions carefully, scholars can weigh the evidence and arrive at well-supported conclusions about the original text.

Scribal Changes and the Growth of the Text

At this point, an important concern may arise. Does this mean that scribes were intentionally altering the words of Scripture? In some cases, yes, but not for the reasons one might initially suspect.

Scribal changes generally fall into two broad categories: accidental mistakes and intentional changes. The accidental mistakes are straightforward and easy to understand. These include misspellings, repeated words, skipped words or lines, confused or reversed letters, and unintentional omissions. Such errors were common, especially given the nature of early manuscripts. They were typically written in all capital letters, with no spaces between words. As a scribe’s eyes moved back and forth between the source text and the copy, it was easy to lose one’s place.

A particularly common error occurred when lines or phrases ended similarly. A scribe might copy a phrase, glance back at the original, and mistakenly resume copying from a later occurrence of the same phrase, thereby omitting the intervening words. These kinds of errors are well understood and readily identified.

Intentional changes, however, require more careful consideration. These were rarely made with malicious intent. On the contrary, scribes who introduced changes typically did so out of reverence for the text. They often believed they were clarifying a difficult passage, harmonizing parallel accounts, or correcting what they perceived to be an earlier mistake. While such actions cannot be justified, they are understandable within the historical context.

This tendency helps explain an important feature of New Testament transmission. Over time, the text became longer. Additions were more common than omissions. This observation is confirmed when comparing earlier Alexandrian manuscripts with later Byzantine manuscripts. The Byzantine tradition, which constitutes the majority of surviving manuscripts, tends to be more expansive, smoother in its readings, and more internally consistent.

Returning to the conceptual table of manuscripts, this development becomes visible. On one side stand the earlier Alexandrian manuscripts, fewer in number and often less polished. On the other side are the later Byzantine manuscripts, more numerous and more uniform. Their greater consistency reflects a later stage in the transmission process, when persecution had subsided, and copying could occur in more stable and professional environments.

This pattern has important implications. First, it cautions against relying on majority readings alone. The fact that most manuscripts agree on a particular reading does not necessarily mean that the reading is original. Many of those manuscripts may derive from a later stage in the textual tradition and may preserve additions that were introduced earlier in the process.

Second, this sheds light on the longstanding discussion surrounding modern Bible translations and the King James Version. Critics of modern translations often note that versions such as the New International Version or the English Standard Version appear to omit words, phrases, or even entire verses compared with the King James Version. From this, some conclude that material has been deliberately removed.

The historical reality is the reverse. The King James Version was produced using the manuscripts available at the time, which were predominantly later Byzantine texts. As a result, it reflects a longer form of the text. Modern translations, by contrast, draw from a much broader range of evidence, including both later Byzantine manuscripts and earlier Alexandrian witnesses. When translators identify readings that appear to be later additions, they omit them in an effort to recover the earliest attainable form of the text.

In this light, the differences between translations are not the result of deliberate subtraction, but of a more comprehensive engagement with the manuscript tradition. The goal remains the same. It is to approximate as closely as possible the original wording of the New Testament as it was first written.

Reasons for Intentional Scribal Changes

One of the primary motivations behind intentional scribal changes was piety. Scribes often expanded titles for Christ out of reverence. Where earlier manuscripts might simply read “Jesus,” later manuscripts sometimes read “Lord Jesus” or “Lord Jesus Christ.”

A similar pattern appears in some of Paul’s greetings. In Colossians 1:2, the English Standard Version reads, “Grace to you and peace from God our Father,” while the King James Version reads, “Grace be unto you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” The earliest manuscripts do not include the phrase “and the Lord Jesus Christ,” whereas later manuscripts do. This suggests that a scribe may have borrowed language from one of Paul’s other letters, either intentionally or unconsciously, or added it as an expression of reverence.

A second major reason for intentional changes is harmonization. This is especially common in the Gospels, where multiple accounts describe the same events. Although the Gospels are already in essential agreement, scribes sometimes sought to make that harmony more explicit.

This tendency is particularly evident in the Gospel of Mark. A scribe familiar with Matthew might perceive Mark’s account as lacking certain details. In response, he might incorporate elements from Matthew into parallel passages in Mark.

An illustrative example appears in Mark 9. Jesus speaks of the seriousness of sin and its consequences:

And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, ‘where their worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.’ (Mark 9:47–48)

In the earliest manuscripts, the phrase “where their worm does not die and the fire is not quenched” appears only once in this passage, in verse 48. In later manuscripts, however, the same phrase is repeated after verses 43 and 45. The most plausible explanation is that a scribe, perhaps seeking rhetorical emphasis or consistency, duplicated the phrase within the passage.

This example also helps explain the phenomenon often described as “missing verses.” When verse numbers were added to the Bible in the sixteenth century, they reflected the longer form of the text found in later manuscripts, such as those underlying the King James Version. As textual scholarship advanced and earlier manuscript evidence was more fully considered, it became clear that certain phrases were later additions. Consequently, those phrases were removed in modern critical editions, along with their corresponding verse numbers, such as verses 44 and 46 in Mark 9.

What may appear to be missing content is, in reality, the removal of later expansions. In either case, whether one reads the longer or shorter form, no essential doctrine is affected. The meaning of the text remains intact, once again demonstrating the faithful preservation of Scripture’s substance.

The Rules of Textual Criticism

Having established the nature of textual variants, the next step is to examine several of the more significant examples found in the New Testament. The goal is to return to our conceptual table of manuscripts and apply the principles of textual criticism in order to determine, as carefully as possible, what the autographs originally contained. Before doing so, however, it is necessary to clarify the rules that guide this process.

The foundational principle has already been stated. The preferred reading is the one that best explains the existence of the others. The task, then, is to determine how such an evaluation is made. This is where additional criteria come into play.

The first category is external evidence. This involves examining the manuscripts themselves. A textual critic will ask a series of questions. How old is the manuscript? From what region does it originate? To which text type does it belong? Is the reading geographically widespread? Is it found in Greek manuscripts? Is it supported by early translations? Is it cited by early church fathers? What is the general reliability of the manuscript? External evidence provides a tangible historical trail, allowing scholars to trace where and how variations in the text have emerged.

The second category is internal evidence. Here, the focus shifts from the manuscripts to the text itself. The critic considers what the author was most likely to have written and what a scribe would most likely have altered. Does the reading align with the author’s known vocabulary, grammar, and style? Would a scribe have been inclined to add to the text, omit something, or smooth out an awkward expression? Internal evidence seeks to explain the origin of the variants by examining the habits of both authors and scribes.

In addition to these two broad categories, several general tendencies guide the evaluation. One such principle is the preference for the more difficult reading. Although this may seem counterintuitive, scribes typically did not make passages more difficult. Their tendency was to clarify, smooth, and harmonize. Therefore, a reading that appears more challenging is often more likely to be original, though this is not an absolute rule.

Closely related is the preference for the shorter reading. While scribes did occasionally omit material, the overall pattern in New Testament transmission shows expansion rather than contraction. Additions could take the form of clarifications, explanatory notes, expanded titles for Christ, harmonizing phrases, or familiar liturgical expressions. Consequently, the shorter reading is often, though not always, to be preferred.

Another guiding principle is the preference for the less harmonized reading. This is especially relevant in the Gospels. When one manuscript presents a simpler or less refined version of a passage, while another adjusts it to align more closely with a parallel account, the less harmonized form is typically closer to the original.

Finally, textual critics often favor readings that reflect Jewish or Hebrew influence. Although the New Testament circulated widely in Greek-speaking contexts, its authors were Jewish. Later scribes sometimes adjusted idioms, phrasing, or sentence structure to conform to more polished Greek usage. As a result, readings that appear less refined or more reflective of Semitic influence may preserve the original form of the text.

With these principles in place, the task becomes more precise. Each variant can be examined in light of both external and internal evidence, as well as these general tendencies. This framework provides the necessary tools to evaluate specific examples and to arrive at well-supported conclusions regarding the original wording of the New Testament.

A Case Study: John 5:4

To illustrate how these principles function in practice, consider John 5:4. Reading from the English Standard Version, the passage begins:

Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked. (John 5:2–9)

This account raises an immediate question. Why were so many disabled individuals gathered at the pool of Bethesda? The text indicates that they were waiting for the water to be stirred, and that entering the water at that moment was believed to bring healing. Yet the passage itself does not explain who stirred the water or why it held such significance.

Those familiar with the King James Version may recall an additional verse that provides an explanation. It states that an angel would descend at certain times, stir the water, and that the first person to enter afterward would be healed. This creates a clear textual variant between manuscripts.

Applying the principles of textual criticism, the first step is to examine the external evidence. The earliest Greek manuscripts, including those from the second and third centuries, do not contain this verse. Even the complete codices from the fourth century omit it. It is not until the fifth and sixth centuries that the text begins to develop. Some manuscripts include only a partial phrase, such as “waiting for the moving of the water,” while others include the full verse. By the time one reaches the later Byzantine manuscripts, the verse appears in nearly all copies, though it is sometimes marked with a symbol indicating doubt.

The same pattern appears in early translations. Latin, Syriac, and Coptic witnesses initially lack the verse, then gradually introduce portions of it, and eventually include it in full in later copies. This consistent trajectory across multiple transmission streams strongly suggests that the verse was not part of the original text but was added over time.

The internal evidence supports this conclusion. The verse functions as an explanatory addition, providing background information to clarify a detail that might otherwise seem obscure. It reads like a marginal note intended to explain the local belief associated with the pool. It is entirely plausible that a scribe, seeking to aid the reader, recorded this explanation in the margin. A later scribe, encountering the note, may have assumed it belonged to the text and incorporated it into the body of the manuscript.

While the precise historical mechanism cannot be proven with certainty, such developments are well attested elsewhere in the manuscript tradition. The cumulative evidence indicates that John did not originally include this verse.

The question then arises, does its absence affect the meaning or doctrine of the passage? It does not. The narrative remains fully intact. The presence or absence of this explanatory detail does not alter any theological teaching or fundamental doctrine.

This example highlights a broader and often overlooked reality. Although there are hundreds of thousands of textual variants across the New Testament manuscripts, only a small fraction have any meaningful impact on the wording of the text. Of that small percentage, none alters any essential doctrine of the Christian faith. Whether John 5:4 is included or omitted, the substance of Christianity remains unchanged.

Let’s consider a real historical friendship, one that, without exaggeration, helped change the world. It is the story of Andrew Fuller and John Ryland Jr., two seemingly unlikely friends whose shared convictions and enduring affection became instrumental in the renewal of Baptist life and the expansion of the modern missionary movement.

A Friendship Forged in Theological Decline

To understand their friendship, some historical background is necessary. The Particular Baptists in eighteenth-century England had fallen deeply into hyper-Calvinism. Some trace the beginnings of this decline to the Congregationalist minister Joseph Hussey and his 1707 book, God’s Operations of Grace but No Offers of His Grace. Over time, the theological tendencies represented in that work spread into Particular Baptist churches and came to shape a dominant understanding of salvation. The consequences were devastating. Evangelistic zeal withered, and by 1750, roughly one-third of the 220 Particular Baptist churches had ceased to exist.

Hyper-Calvinism began with something true, but pushed it beyond the bounds of Scripture. It rightly affirmed that fallen sinners are unable to respond to God apart from divine grace. Human beings, dead in sin, cannot repent and believe unless God first works in them. That much was orthodox. But hyper-Calvinism drew a further conclusion. If unconverted sinners lack the natural power to come to Christ, then, it reasoned, ministers have no warrant to call all people indiscriminately to repent and believe the gospel. To issue such invitations, they argued, would be as absurd as commanding a blind man to read a book. Since he cannot do it, the command is meaningless, even cruel.

From that reasoning arose a ministry directed only toward those whom they called “sensible sinners,” those who already appeared to show evidence of awakening. In many Particular Baptist churches, a person sitting unconverted in the congregation would not hear the pastor plead with him to flee to Christ. He would hear no free offer of the gospel extended to all. Instead, he was expected to remain in a state of anxious introspection, waiting for some unmistakable evidence that God was at work in his soul. Only then might he seek pastoral counsel regarding what to do.

It has been described as a spiritual waiting room where no one ever calls your name. Others have referred to it as a theological cage. Both images capture something of its paralysis. It was a system that stifled assurance, suppressed evangelism, and imprisoned both ministers and hearers in uncertainty.

This was the world into which Andrew Fuller and John Ryland Jr. were born. It was the theological atmosphere that shaped their early lives and ministries. Fuller often receives the greater credit for helping Particular Baptists break free from this constriction, and rightly so in many respects. Yet Fuller did not labor alone. His theological courage was strengthened, sharpened, and sustained through friendship. It is no overstatement to say that the cage was not opened by Fuller alone, but by Fuller and Ryland together.

To understand how that happened, we must begin with the men themselves, and first with John Ryland.

An Unlikely Friendship Begins

John Ryland Jr. was born in 1753 in Northampton, the son of a prominent pastor and schoolmaster who pressed his son rigorously in his studies. Ryland proved remarkably gifted. Indeed, he was something of a prodigy. He was reading biblical Hebrew at four years old. By eight, he was translating the Greek New Testament. By eleven, he had become highly proficient in both Latin and French. In 1767, at only twelve years old, he published his first book, a collection of poetry. He achieved in childhood what many men never achieve in a lifetime.

Yet such extraordinary gifting carried spiritual dangers. Ryland became proud, persuaded of his own superiority. His brilliance fed an arrogance that might have ruined him had God not intervened through the counsel of a wiser friend.

That friend was John Newton, the former slave ship captain turned Anglican pastor and author of “Amazing Grace.” Newton had personally known the depths of human depravity and the power of divine grace, and he was a close friend of the Ryland family. More than thirty years older than the young Ryland, Newton perceived something troubling in his character and addressed it directly in a letter. With loving bluntness, he warned that pride would destroy him. He wrote, “Your future comfort and success eminently depend upon your being humble. And if the Lord loves you and has sent you, He will find ways and means to humble you.”

In God’s providence, Newton himself became one of those means. Ryland received the rebuke. He took it so seriously that he ceased publishing for eight years, withdrawing from the spotlight his father had helped create around him. His spirit softened. Decades later, he begged his family to locate and destroy anything he had written before the age of thirty, fearing others might be misled by the arrogance of his youth. The prodigy had been humbled.

On one side, then, stood Ryland, brilliant, polished, academically trained, and now chastened by grace. On the other stood Andrew Fuller, his near opposite.

Andrew Fuller was born in 1754, only a year after Ryland, but his upbringing could scarcely have been more different. He was born into a rural farming family in the village of Wicken. He had virtually no formal academic training. He spoke only one language. Until the age of twenty, he labored as a cattle farmer. Yet he possessed unusual discipline and intellectual hunger. He read and studied on his own, determined to learn despite the absence of formal education.

Fuller’s struggles differed from Ryland’s. He did not identify pride as the dominant sin of his youth. He later wrote that lying and swearing marked his early life. He claimed to have abandoned swearing by age ten, but lying remained a persistent struggle until his conversion to Christ in his late teens.

The contrast between the two men is striking. Ryland was an educated scholar in Northampton, shaped by books, languages, and a cultured society. Fuller was the self-taught farmer-turned-pastor in Soham, shaped by labor, discipline, and personal study. One bore the polish of the academy. The other carried the rough edges of the countryside.

Yet in 1778, these two young men, both in their early twenties, met at a regional gathering of Baptist ministers. Beneath their differences lay profound shared convictions. Both were deeply troubled by the theological paralysis of the Particular Baptists. Both had become persuaded that hyper-Calvinism was a dead end. Both longed to preach the gospel freely and call sinners openly to faith in Christ. Yet both belonged to a church culture that insisted they had no warrant to do so. They felt confined within the same theological cage.

What they shared mattered far more than what distinguished them. They shared Christ. They shared a zeal for the gospel. They shared a burden for evangelism and a growing conviction that the inherited system around them was strangling both. These were not minor commonalities, but the deepest bonds friendship can possess.

What appeared, at first glance, to be an unlikely friendship soon proved providential. Two men from very different worlds discovered in one another a kindred spirit. That bond would endure for the rest of their lives. More than that, it would become one of the great friendships in church history.

Friendship Deepened Through Truth

The decisive turning point in their friendship came in 1782, when Andrew Fuller moved to Kettering to pastor a church only thirteen miles from the ministry of John Ryland Jr. in Northampton. What had once been roughly sixty miles of separation narrowed to a distance close enough for regular personal fellowship. Though thirteen miles was no small matter in the eighteenth century, it made possible what had not previously existed. They could now meet frequently, walk together, converse face to face, and cultivate a friendship that moved beyond correspondence into shared life.

That is precisely what followed. They wrote letters, but they also spent long stretches together in conversation, often on extended walks, discussing theology, Scripture, and virtually every subject that stirred their minds. Their friendship was built merely on intellectual rigor, spiritual seriousness, and mutual refinement.

Their letters offer remarkable insight into the character of that bond. One example comes from a letter Fuller wrote on March 22, 1783. He begins by thanking Ryland for helping him learn Hebrew. Yet after that brief expression of gratitude, there is almost no social preamble. There are no extended pleasantries, no casual inquiries about health or family. Fuller immediately moves into a dense theological discussion of moral inability and the writings of Jonathan Edwards. To modern readers, the transition feels abrupt, but it reveals that their friendship did not depend upon ceremonial small talk before arriving at what mattered most. They moved directly into serious matters because they were the substance of their fellowship.

There is something deeply refreshing in such friendship. To be close enough to another man that one need not spend an hour navigating superficial conversation before speaking of what truly matters is a rare gift. Fuller and Ryland had that gift. Their letters show not only comfort with theological intensity, but delight in it.

More than that, they did not avoid disagreement. They welcomed it. A rigorous and respectful argument was not a threat to their friendship, but a significant part of it. For them, serious debate was itself a form of brotherly affection. They lived out the wisdom of Proverbs 27:17: “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.”

They sharpened one another regularly, and they did so through ordinary conversation.

One story in particular captures both their differences and the strength found in those differences. On one occasion, they traveled together to Oxford. Ryland was captivated by the beauty of the city, its architecture, and the accumulated weight of centuries of scholarship. As they walked, he pointed from sight to sight in wonder. “Look at that,” he said. “Oh, look at that.”

Fuller, however, was mostly silent, absorbed in thought. Then suddenly he turned to Ryland and said, “Brother, I think there is one question which, after all that has been written on it, has not yet been well answered.”

Ryland asked what he meant.

Fuller replied, “What is justification? That inquiry is far more to me than all these fine buildings.”

That moment says much about the two men. Ryland possessed breadth, cultural awareness, and a delight in the riches of human learning. Fuller possessed a restless theological mind that continually pressed beneath appearances to first principles. One saw the horizon. The other kept returning to foundations.

Yet these differences did not hinder friendship. They strengthened it. Friendship, like marriage, does not require sameness. It often flourishes precisely where complementary strengths meet. Ryland helped Fuller see a broader world. Fuller repeatedly drew Ryland back to fundamental biblical questions. Together they shaped one another.

This mutual sharpening was not incidental to Fuller’s development. It helped prepare him for the work that would alter Baptist history. In this season of deepening friendship, Fuller labored to write The Gospel Worthy of All Acceptation, the book through which he would challenge hyper-Calvinism at its root and help open the door to evangelical renewal. And it is difficult to understand that achievement apart from the friendship that helped form the man who wrote it.

Friendship in the Service of the Gospel

To appreciate what these men accomplished together, it is necessary to return to the hyper-Calvinist cage they inhabited. The hyper-Calvinist argued that one cannot call sinners indiscriminately to repent and believe because the unconverted lack the ability to respond. To command faith, they reasoned, would be like telling a blind man to see.

But Andrew Fuller came to see the matter differently. The problem, he argued, was not natural inability but moral inability. The sinner is not a creature lacking the faculties necessary to respond to God. He possesses mind, will, and affections. He can understand truth, make choices, and desire what he loves. The issue is not that something essential is missing. The issue is that the heart is corrupt. Sinners do not refuse Christ because they cannot come in a natural sense, but because they will not come. They do not want the light because they love darkness.

That distinction was decisive. It helped explain why Christ, the apostles, and the Bible call men indiscriminately to repent and believe. Such calls are not absurd because repentance and faith are the moral responsibility of every person. Therefore, ministers must proclaim the gospel freely to all and summon all people everywhere to turn to Christ.

Hyper-Calvinism had elevated divine sovereignty to the point of obscuring human responsibility. On the opposite side of the theological spectrum are those who magnify human responsibility to the point of diminishing divine sovereignty. Historic Calvinism, as articulated in the Second London Baptist Confession, held these truths together without sacrificing either. That was what Fuller came to see.

It is difficult to separate this theological breakthrough from the friendship that helped refine it. Fuller receives much of the credit for helping unlock the hyper-Calvinist cage, and rightly so. Yet his friendship with John Ryland Jr. was no mere backdrop. It was part of the means by which those convictions were sharpened and sustained.

Beginning in 1784, Fuller and Ryland, together with John Sutcliff and William Carey, gathered regularly in Ryland’s study for fasting and prayer. For roughly seven years, they sought revival, first in their own souls, then in their churches, and then throughout the Baptist churches of England. These were not casual meetings. They were sustained seasons of spiritual pleading before God, and they helped prepare the ground for what would follow.

In October 1792, they formally organized the Baptist Missionary Society. Carey would soon go to India, declaring that he would go down into the mines if only Fuller would hold the rope.

That image has rightly become famous. Fuller was indeed a chief rope holder. As the Society’s first secretary, he traveled across England, Scotland, and Wales, raising support, defending the mission against critics, and sustaining the work at considerable personal cost. But he did not hold the rope alone. Ryland stood with him as a principal advocate and, in time, became instrumental in training future ministers and missionaries.

His later move, more than a hundred miles away, to serve as president of the Bristol Baptist Academy did not diminish their friendship. Their correspondence continued with remarkable regularity, at least one letter every two weeks. Ryland once said that if more than a fortnight passed without hearing from Fuller, it was to him a “tedious interval.” By tedious, he meant painful. The absence of his friend was felt.

Their friendship was not merely strategic, intellectual, or ministerial. It was deeply personal. This is evident in how they shared one another’s sorrows. When one of Fuller’s children died, he asked Ryland to preach the funeral. When Ryland’s wife died, Fuller was there to comfort him. Their bond extended beyond theological discussion and common labor. They bore grief together.

This is what made their friendship so extraordinary. They were not simply colleagues joined by a cause. They genuinely loved one another. Their affection was personal, deep, and enduring. And that affection, no less than their theological convictions, helped sustain the work to which God had called them.

Friendship Tested and Proven

This friendship, extraordinary as it was, did not exist without serious trials. Indeed, one of the clearest demonstrations of its strength is that it endured profound disagreement without fracture.

In the early nineteenth century, intense debates arose over the Lord’s Supper, particularly among the Particular Baptists. The question was whether those who had not received believer’s baptism should be admitted to the Lord’s Table. Since nearly every other Christian body practiced infant baptism, most non-Baptist Christians had not been baptized as professing believers. The question, therefore, was whether such Christians should be welcomed to commune in a Baptist church, despite not having taken what Baptists regarded as the first act of obedience in the Christian life.

The controversy did not originate in England but in India, among Baptist missionaries, including William Carey and his colleagues. In the practical realities of the mission field, where they were largely isolated and confronted by non-Baptist Christians seeking fellowship at the Lord’s Table, the missionaries adopted a policy of open communion.

When news of this reached Andrew Fuller, he was deeply troubled. He believed the policy undermined the very identity of the missionary movement they had built. These were Baptist missionaries. For Fuller, believer’s baptism was a necessary prerequisite to the Lord’s Supper. If the missionaries no longer maintained that order, he feared the movement’s defining principles were being surrendered. If Baptists did not insist upon baptism before admission to the Table, what distinguished Baptist missions at all?

Yet on this matter, his closest friend stood firmly against him.

John Ryland Jr. disagreed vehemently, bluntly, and publicly. He believed excluding a genuine Christian from the Lord’s Supper violated the law of brotherly love. For Ryland, the issue touched conscience and charity at their deepest level.

The disagreement escalated. Fuller, as secretary of the missionary society, exerted pressure, and by 1811, the missionaries in India returned to a practice of closed communion. This angered Ryland.

For many friendships, this would have been the breaking point. Friendships have ended over far less. This was no peripheral dispute, but a matter each man regarded as bound up with fidelity to Christ. Ryland believed Fuller had pressured the missionaries into violating the law of love. Fuller believed he was defending biblical truth.

Yet they did not conceal their disagreement, nor did they allow disagreement to become estrangement. Ryland later said he had expressed himself “more freely and more strongly” to Fuller on this issue than to any other man in England, yet “without giving him offense.”

That is a remarkable statement. It reveals a friendship sturdy enough to bear the weight of painful disagreement. They continued to love and respect one another and remain friends. They understood that friendship does not require uniformity. True friendship often includes correction, friction, and even wounds. “Faithful are the wounds of a friend” (Proverbs 27:6). They lived that proverb.

Shortly before his death in 1815, Fuller wrote a final letter to Ryland. In it, he reflected, “We have enjoyed much together, which I hope will prove an earnest of greater enjoyment in another world. I trust we shall meet and part no more.” The friendship that had been forged through shared convictions, strengthened through common labor, and tested through disagreement now looked beyond death itself.

In May of that year, Ryland preached at his friend’s funeral, weeping throughout the sermon. There, he made a remarkable declaration, saying their friendship “never met with one minute’s interruption by any one unkind word or thought, of which I have any knowledge.” That statement carries greater weight when heard against the backdrop of their fiercest controversies. It was not the claim of men who had never disagreed. It was the testimony of men whose disagreements never ruptured affection.

The following year, Ryland published the first major biography of Fuller, drawing from more than 330 letters he had preserved over the years. In doing so, he ensured his friend’s legacy would endure.

When Ryland himself died in 1825, Robert Hall preached his funeral sermon and reflected on the friendship between Ryland and Fuller. He said, “He who has acquired a judicious and sympathizing friend may be said to have doubled his mental resources.”

Whatever strengths each man possessed individually, they were stronger together. Their friendship multiplied their gifts. And part of what made it so fruitful was their differences. Their differences, rightly ordered by grace, became instruments of mutual strengthening.

Having considered the inspiration and canonization of Scripture, it is necessary to examine its transmission throughout history. The prophets and apostles wrote the various books of the Bible long before the invention of the printing press or any mechanical means of reproduction. The question, then, is how these ancient writings have been preserved and passed down to us today.

This, once again, is a story of divine providence. Even in ordinary experience, documents can be lost despite multiple safeguards and backups. Yet portions of the biblical text, some of which were written more than three thousand years ago, remain widely available and accessible.

To state the matter plainly, the original writings of Scripture, known as the autographs, no longer exist. Not a single document penned by the biblical authors has survived. This raises an important question: Why did God not preserve the autographs? He could have ensured their survival. He could have had them inscribed on more durable materials, such as stone or metal. Instead, he ordained that his Word be written on fragile materials such as papyrus, thereby requiring continual hand-copying.

This reality is significant, particularly in light of the history of scribal transmission. As will be seen, scribes made numerous errors in copying the biblical text. Some deny this, preferring to believe that God preserved a perfectly unbroken line of manuscripts untouched by human fallibility. Others, upon learning of these scribal variations, find their confidence in Scripture unsettled. Yet the historical process, with all its apparent disorder, unfolded according to divine intention.

God did not preserve the autographs. He permitted them to pass from history and entrusted the transmission of his Word to fallible human agents. This was not a deviation from his plan but an expression of it. Just as he worked through ordinary means and imperfect men in the inspiration and recognition of Scripture, so also he worked through the same means in its transmission. Indeed, his providence is displayed with particular clarity in this process, as his Word has been faithfully preserved despite the limitations and imperfections of those who copied it.

Old Testament Transmission and Scribal Practice

When considering the transmission of Scripture, it is necessary to distinguish between the Old and New Testaments. The processes by which each was copied and preserved differ significantly. The Old Testament was transmitted within Israel, confined to a specific geographical region and a single covenant people. This work operated under centralized authority, largely associated with Jerusalem. By contrast, the New Testament emerged within a dispersed and diverse church. Its transmission was decentralized, spanning multiple regions, languages, and cultural contexts. Without a central authority and often hindered by persecution and limited communication, the copying of the New Testament proceeded under far less uniform conditions. For this reason, the two must be treated separately.

In ancient Israel, the vast majority of Old Testament manuscripts, meaning handwritten copies in Hebrew, were produced by trained scribes. This distinguishes the Old Testament tradition from that of the New Testament and explains why comparatively less discussion is devoted to its transmission. The process was structured and consistent. Manuscripts exhibit a high degree of uniformity, largely because copying was undertaken by professionals working in specific locations and adhering to strict standards.

This does not imply perfection in every instance. Scribes were rigorously trained. Their education included mastery of the alphabet, the copying of vocabulary lists, and extensive memorization of Scripture. Even so, they remained human and were susceptible to ordinary copying errors. Letters might be transposed within a word. Words or phrases might be inadvertently repeated. At times, words or even entire lines could be omitted. These are the kinds of mistakes naturally associated with manual reproduction.

Prior to the destruction of the temple in AD 70, two primary methods of copying were employed: conservative copying and free copying.

Conservative copying involved meticulous attention to detail. Scribes sought to preserve not only the exact wording of the text but also its precise form. This included maintaining consistent spelling, line structure, and formatting. A line in the copy would begin with the same word as in the original. In poetic or lyrical sections, scribes followed a prescribed visual pattern described in the Jewish Talmud as “a half-brick over a whole brick, and a whole brick over a half-brick.” This staggered arrangement functioned as a visual safeguard. Deviations could be detected immediately, allowing errors to be identified and corrected.

Free copying, by contrast, was not careless but adaptive. In this method, scribes made deliberate adjustments to aid contemporary readers’ comprehension. These changes were not intended to alter the substance of the text but to clarify it. For example, Genesis 14:14 refers to the city of Dan, though the location was originally known as Laish until the period of the Judges. A scribe, recognizing that later readers would be unfamiliar with the earlier name, updated it to reflect its more commonly known designation. The goal was intelligibility, not innovation.

Taken together, these methods served complementary purposes. Conservative copying preserved the exact wording of the text. Free copying preserved its intelligibility across time. Ancient Israel spanned many centuries, roughly from Moses to the coming of Christ. Over that period, culture, geography, and even language developed. The adaptive method ensured that the text remained accessible to successive generations.

This principle remains relevant. Faithfulness to Scripture does not require the preservation of language forms that obscure meaning. The goal is not merely to possess the text but to understand it.

The Masoretic Tradition

Following the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70, the conservative method of copying became the dominant approach to transmitting the Old Testament. As the historical timeline advances, particular attention must be given to a group of Jewish scholars in the Middle Ages known as the Masoretes. Active from approximately the sixth through the tenth centuries, these men approached the copying of Scripture with extraordinary care and precision. The text they produced became standardized and remains the basis of the Hebrew Bible to this day. Moreover, it serves as the foundational text for nearly all modern translations of the Old Testament, whether in English or other languages.

Their level of care is difficult to overstate. A manuscript containing even a single error was deemed unfit for public use. If a scribe accidentally omitted a line, it could not simply be inserted between existing lines. Instead, an adjacent line had to be erased so that the missing content could be properly rewritten within the structure of the text. When copying the divine name, Yahweh, the scribe was not permitted to pause under any circumstance. Even the presence of a king did not justify interruption. The act of writing the name of God demanded uninterrupted attention, reflecting the profound reverence with which they approached their task.

In addition to their meticulous copying practices, the Masoretes contributed significantly to the preservation of the Hebrew language itself by developing vowel pointing. The original Hebrew text consisted only of consonants. While this posed no difficulty for native readers in earlier periods, linguistic changes over time made accurate reading increasingly challenging. Following the Roman conquest of Jerusalem, even those who could read Hebrew began to lose familiarity with its ancient forms.

To address this, the Masoretes devised a system of vowel points consisting of dots and dashes placed above and below the consonantal text. These markings indicated proper pronunciation without altering the original letters. Their intention was to avoid modification of the text while preserving its correct reading. By maintaining the consonantal structure while supplementing it with vocalization guides, they ensured that the language of the Old Testament remained accessible to future generations.

Their commitment to textual accuracy extended even further. The Masoretes included detailed marginal notes, recording the frequency of words and other textual features. These annotations functioned as an additional safeguard, enabling scribes to verify the precision of their copies. Through such measures, they demonstrated an exceptional dedication to preserving the integrity of the biblical text.

The Dead Sea Scrolls and Textual Confirmation

This raises a significant question: How can it be known that the manuscripts copied so carefully by the Masoretes were themselves accurate? Their methodology is undeniably impressive, yet the Masoretic Text stands roughly a thousand years removed from the time of the apostles. That span invites scrutiny. Moreover, when it comes to Hebrew manuscripts, very few survive from the period between the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70 and the emergence of the Masoretic tradition. The most complete Masoretic manuscript currently available dates to AD 1008.

A major development occurred in 1947. In that year, shepherds in the region of the West Bank, near the area where David once hid while fleeing from Saul, were searching for a lost sheep. One of them threw a stone into an opening in a cliff and heard the sound of breaking pottery. Further investigation led them to a cave, where they discovered clay jars containing ancient scrolls. These manuscripts came to be known as the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Subsequent examination revealed that these scrolls included portions of every book of the Hebrew Old Testament except Esther. Additional materials were also present, such as a verse-by-verse commentary on Habakkuk. The most significant discovery, however, was the collection of biblical manuscripts themselves. These texts were dated to approximately 200-100 BC. In other words, they predate the coming of Christ and are more than a thousand years earlier than the Masoretic manuscripts.

This discovery provided an unprecedented opportunity for comparison. With the Masoretic Text on one hand and the Dead Sea Scrolls on the other, it became possible to examine how the Hebrew text had been transmitted over the course of a millennium. The results were striking.

The Hebrew Old Testament contains roughly 305,000 words. Of these, only about one percent show any variation across that thousand-year span. Even within that small percentage, the vast majority of differences are minor and easily recognizable, such as spelling variations or simple copying errors. These are the kinds of discrepancies that can often be identified through context alone.

The remaining variations, few as they are, do not alter any central doctrine of the Christian faith. They do not affect the understanding of God, the person and work of Christ, or the nature of salvation. The essential message of the text remains unchanged. Over a thousand years of manual transmission, the stability of the Hebrew Scriptures is remarkably evident.

A Case Study in Textual Variation: Goliath’s Height

Examples of textual variation help illustrate how these differences appear within the manuscript tradition. A textual variant refers to any difference between existing copies of the biblical text. One of the most well-known examples in the Old Testament occurs in 1 Samuel 17, in the account of David and Goliath. The question concerns Goliath’s height.

Some translations, such as the NIV, render his height as “over nine feet tall,” often with a footnote indicating that the Hebrew text reads “six cubits and a span.” These ancient units of measurement are unfamiliar to modern readers. A cubit is roughly the distance from the elbow to the tip of the finger, about eighteen inches, and a span is approximately nine inches. Taken together, six cubits and a span would place Goliath at around nine feet, nine inches.

The ESV retains the Hebrew expression in the main text, stating that “his height was six cubits and a span,” while providing a modern equivalent in a footnote. It also includes an additional note indicating a textual variant: “Hebrew; Septuagint, Dead Sea Scrolls, and Josephus four.” This notation introduces the discipline of textual criticism.

Textual criticism involves the comparison of existing manuscripts in order to identify variations and determine, as closely as possible, the original wording of the text. Scholars gather available manuscripts, evaluate their differences, consider their dates and origins, and weigh the evidence. Manuscripts in the original language are often given priority, since they can be copied directly, though early translations are also highly valuable, especially when they reflect older textual traditions. In general, earlier manuscripts and those closest to the original language are given greater weight.

In this instance, the ESV’s reference to “Hebrew” indicates reliance on the Masoretic Text. However, the footnote identifies alternative readings preserved in other significant sources. These include the Greek Septuagint, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and the writings of the first-century Jewish historian Josephus. Each of these sources indicates that Goliath’s height was “four cubits and a span,” which would be approximately six feet, nine inches.

The Septuagint, a Greek translation of the Old Testament produced in the third to second centuries BC, holds considerable importance. It was widely used among Jews living outside Israel who no longer spoke Hebrew fluently. It was also the version frequently cited by Christ and the apostles. While estimates vary, it is often suggested that a substantial portion of Old Testament quotations in the New Testament align with the Septuagint. In some instances, these quotations reflect readings that differ slightly from the Hebrew text, though without affecting doctrinal content.

The Dead Sea Scrolls provide further support for this alternate reading. Hebrew manuscripts predating the time of Christ offer an early witness to the textual tradition and likewise record Goliath’s height as four cubits and a span. In addition, Josephus, writing in the first century, describes Goliath using the same measurement.

The use of such extra-biblical sources is not unusual in textual criticism. Writings from outside the biblical canon can provide valuable insight into the textual tradition. If a particular reading appears in later manuscripts but is absent from earlier ones, it becomes necessary to consider whether earlier witnesses have been lost or whether the reading was introduced at a later stage. Citations in sermons, commentaries, and historical writings can help establish whether a reading was known and used in earlier periods.

In the case of Goliath’s height, the available evidence presents two plausible scenarios. The variation may have arisen prior to the composition of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Septuagint, resulting in two distinct streams of transmission. One preserved the reading of six cubits and a span, while the other preserved four cubits and a span. Alternatively, the change may have occurred after the earlier witnesses, with the larger measurement emerging in a later stage of transmission. The precise origin of the variation cannot be determined with certainty.

Most modern English translations have chosen to follow the Masoretic Text, which gives the larger measurement. Despite this and other relatively minor variations, the overall reliability of the Masoretic tradition remains well established. Indeed, the very evidence that raises questions in isolated cases also, on a broader scale, confirms the remarkable stability of the Old Testament text.

Another Example: Psalm 145 and the Acrostic Pattern

A second example of textual variation appears in Psalm 145. This psalm is composed as an acrostic, meaning that each line corresponds to a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. In the Masoretic Text, however, one letter and its corresponding line are absent from the sequence. The pattern appears to skip a letter in the middle of the psalm.

The discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls brought renewed attention to this omission. Among those manuscripts, the missing line is preserved. The same line is also found in the Greek Septuagint, as well as in at least one Masoretic manuscript. The verse reads, “The LORD is faithful in all his words and kind in all his works” (Psalm 145:13).

While the majority of Masoretic manuscripts do not include this line, many modern English translations have restored it on the basis of this broader manuscript evidence. The ESV, for example, includes the verse in brackets, indicating that it is supported by important witnesses outside the primary Masoretic tradition. The presence of even a single Masoretic manuscript containing the line may have contributed to this decision.

This example illustrates an important principle. Although modern translations generally prioritize the Masoretic Text due to its demonstrated accuracy and the care with which it was transmitted, they do not rely on it exclusively. Translators weigh all available evidence, including early Hebrew manuscripts, ancient translations, and other textual witnesses. When uncertainty remains, the Masoretic reading is typically given preference, but it is not followed uncritically.

It is essential to maintain perspective. Again, variations like this account for a very small percentage of the overall text. The Hebrew Old Testament, consisting of approximately 305,000 words, exhibits only about one percent variation across the manuscript tradition. The overwhelming majority of these differences are minor, often involving spelling or other easily recognized discrepancies.

The presence of such variations should not be overstated. Human involvement in the copying process inevitably introduced small errors, yet the text has been preserved with remarkable fidelity. Even across centuries of transmission, no significant corruption of the message has occurred. The consistency of the text, despite the limitations of those who copied it, serves as a further indication of divine providence in its preservation.

With this foundation in place, attention can now turn to the transmission of the New Testament.

The Transmission of the New Testament

In contrast to the Old Testament, the transmission of the New Testament unfolded under far less controlled conditions. Within the first century, the church spread rapidly across the known world, encompassing a wide range of ethnic groups and languages. There was no centralized authority overseeing the copying process. Churches in various regions desired copies of the New Testament, and the reproduction work was undertaken by both trained scribes and ordinary believers. These copies were produced in many locations and often under urgent circumstances. The demand was high, and there was also a practical concern to preserve the text in the face of persecution from both Jewish and Gentile authorities. By multiplying copies and dispersing them widely, the early church ensured that the text could not be easily destroyed.

This environment resulted in two notable outcomes. First, there is less uniformity among New Testament manuscripts, resulting in more textual variants. Second, there is a far greater quantity of manuscripts available for comparison. This abundance of evidence strengthens the work of textual criticism, as patterns across manuscripts can be examined to determine the most likely original readings.

Rather than preserving a single, flawless line of transmission, God preserved the New Testament through a vast and diverse manuscript tradition. Thousands of copies were produced within a relatively short period and distributed across a wide geographical area. Even during periods of intense opposition, the text endured because it existed in too many places to be eradicated.

In the study of New Testament textual criticism, three primary sources of evidence are considered. First, scholars examine manuscripts in the original Greek, the language in which the New Testament was written. Second, they study early translations, since the text was quickly rendered into multiple languages as the gospel spread. Third, they consult early Christian writings, including letters, sermons, and commentaries, many of which contain extensive quotations of Scripture. The writings of the early church fathers alone preserve a vast number of New Testament citations, sufficient to reconstruct nearly the entire text even if the manuscripts themselves were lost.

This combined body of material is referred to as manuscript evidence. In terms of Greek manuscripts alone, approximately 5,800 copies of the New Testament are known today. The earliest of these date to the second century, only a few decades removed from the original writings. While many of these early witnesses are fragmentary, they nonetheless provide valuable confirmation of the text’s early form.

Compared with other ancient Greek literature, the New Testament stands in a category of its own. Homer’s Iliad, often cited as the next best-attested work, survives in approximately 1,800 manuscripts, with the earliest copies dating about five hundred years after its composition. The works of Plato exist in roughly 250 manuscripts, with a similar chronological gap. Aristotle’s writings are preserved in fewer than one hundred manuscripts, and the earliest copies appear more than twelve hundred years after the originals. Despite these gaps, the authenticity of these works is rarely questioned.

By contrast, the New Testament benefits from both a far greater number of manuscripts and a much shorter interval between the originals and the earliest copies. This combination provides a strong foundation for confidence in the text. By the second century, collections of Paul’s letters were already being compiled in codex form. By the fourth century, complete copies of the Bible, containing both Old and New Testaments, were being produced.

The abundance of manuscripts raises an important question: Does having more copies truly aid in determining the original text? The answer is yes. A single manuscript offers no means of detecting error. However, when manuscripts from different regions and time periods are compared, variations can be analyzed, and patterns begin to emerge. These patterns enable scholars to identify and correct copying mistakes, bringing the reconstructed text into closer alignment with the original autographs.

This process will be illustrated further with specific examples as the discussion continues, particularly regarding the transmission and translation of the New Testament.

As previously noted, the story of the Bible is ultimately the account of God’s providence. It is the record of his work throughout history, giving his people his revealed will in written form. Having considered how he inspired his Word, it is now necessary to examine the process of canonization.

The Nature of the Canon

When speaking of the canon of Scripture, the question concerns what belongs in the Bible and what does not. The sixty-six books of Scripture were not the only writings produced during biblical history. Other works circulated, such as the Gospel of Thomas or the Book of Enoch. Paul himself indicates in his correspondence with the Corinthians that he wrote additional letters not preserved in the New Testament. Many writings addressed God, Israel, Christ, and related subjects, yet were never included in the biblical canon.

The canon, therefore, refers specifically to those books that properly belong in the Bible.

The term “canon” derives from a Greek word with roots in a Hebrew term meaning “reed.” A reed plant grows straight, often near water, and in the ancient world it was used as a measuring rod or standard. It could determine whether something was straight or level. In this sense, the canon of Scripture consists of those books that measure up. They meet the standard. They belong within the collection of sacred writings.

This raises an essential question. By what standard were these writings measured? What criteria indicated that a given book belonged in the canon?

The answer centers on divine authorship. God’s people sought to determine whether a writing originated from God. They understood that Scripture came through human authors, yet its ultimate source had to be divine. The decisive question was whether God had spoken in that text. If so, it belonged in the canon. If not, it might still offer value, but it could not be considered Scripture.

A critical distinction must be established at this point. The canon of Scripture was not created by men. It was recognized by men.

In modern discussions, a common theory suggests that a group of individuals, acting behind closed doors, determined which books would be included in the Bible. This theory often assumes ulterior motives, such as shaping the canon to support political power. Popular portrayals, such as those found in The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, present the Council of Nicaea as the setting where such decisions were made under the direction of Constantine.

This account lacks historical support. The Council of Nicaea did not address the canon of Scripture. Its purpose was to confront the Arian controversy, which denied Christ’s eternal deity and asserted that he was a created being rather than co-eternal with the Father.

The essential point remains unchanged. The canon of Scripture was not created by men; it was recognized by men. The books of the canon possessed their authority prior to their formal acknowledgment. The church did not confer canonicity but recognized it, functioning under a practical canon long before explicitly defining it.

Consider a federal agent trained to detect counterfeit currency. When presented with two bills, he may determine that one is genuine and the other is not. His judgment does not impart value to the authentic bill. He merely recognizes the value it already possesses, while identifying the counterfeit as lacking that value.

The same principle applies to Scripture. God’s people did not assign authority to certain books. They recognized the authority inherent in writings inspired by God. They identified these texts, received them, and submitted to them because those writings already bore the authority of the Word of God.

The Self-Attesting Nature of Scripture

The central question, then, is how God’s people recognized his Word. What were they looking for that would clearly identify a book as God-breathed?

At the heart of the matter was the Bible’s own self-attestation. This does not mean that each canonical book contains an explicit declaration stating, “This is the Word of God. I belong in the canon.” Rather, each book bears witness to its divine origin. Scripture is self-attesting. It carries within itself the marks of God’s voice. When the Spirit of God is at work within believers, they recognize they are encountering the very words of God.

As Jesus said, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth” (John 16:13). This discernment may be compared to a trained agent who can distinguish genuine currency from counterfeit. Through careful familiarity with the authentic, he recognizes what is real. In a similar way, the Spirit grants God’s people the ability to discern his Word.

Paul expresses this clearly in his letter to the Thessalonians:

We also thank God constantly for this, that when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men but as what it really is, the word of God, which is at work in you believers. (1 Thessalonians 2:13)

God not only inspires his Word, but also equips his people to recognize it. As Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).

The Beginning of the Canon

With that in mind, where did the canon begin? How did the Bible develop into the sixty-six books we now possess? The question is somewhat misleading. While the book of Job is often considered the oldest written book of the Bible, likely dating to the time of Abraham, the recognition of the biblical canon begins later. It does not begin even in Genesis, but in the middle of Exodus.

In Exodus 20, God gives Moses the Ten Commandments. Later, we read, “[God] gave to Moses, when he had finished speaking with him on Mount Sinai, the two tablets of the testimony [the Ten Commandments], tablets of stone, written with the finger of God” (Exodus 31:18). God himself inscribes the Decalogue on tablets of stone. This is a unique moment in redemptive history. The words are not merely spoken. They are written directly by God.

God then commands Moses to preserve these words. He instructs him to place the tablets in the ark of the covenant. Though the original tablets were broken, the Lord provides replacements, as recorded in Deuteronomy:

At that time, the LORD said to me, “Cut for yourself two tablets of stone like the first, and come up to me on the mountain and make an ark of wood. And I will write on the tablets the words that were on the first tablets that you broke, and you shall put them in the ark.” (Deuteronomy 10:1-2)

Once again, God writes the words and commands that they be placed in the ark.

This marks the first clear instance in Scripture where God not only gives his Word in written form but also explicitly requires its preservation. The medium itself underscores this purpose. Words written in stone are meant to endure. The ark serves as their appointed repository, ensuring their continued presence among the people.

At the very least, the Decalogue is recognized as belonging to the canon. Yet God does not cease speaking. He continues to give his law through Moses. By the time we reach Deuteronomy 31, we read,

When Moses had finished writing the words of this law [that is, God’s law] in a book to the very end, Moses commanded the Levites who carried the ark of the covenant of the LORD, “Take this Book of the Law and put it by the side of the ark of the covenant of the LORD your God.” (Deutoronomy 31:24-26)

Moses completes the writing of the law and commands that it be placed alongside the ark of the covenant.

At this point, the scope of the canon has expanded. It now includes not only the Ten Commandments but the full corpus of the Mosaic law, comprising the five books from Genesis through Deuteronomy. The people of Israel understood that these writings were of divine origin. Though their obedience often lagged behind their knowledge, they recognized that God was speaking through Moses and that these words carried his authority.

This understanding is reinforced in Deuteronomy 4, where God says,

And now, O Israel, listen to the statutes and the rules that I am teaching you, and do them, that you may live, and go in and take possession of the land that the LORD, the God of your fathers, is giving you. You shall not add to the word that I command you, nor take from it, that you may keep the commandments of the LORD your God that I command you. (Deuteronomy 4:1-2)

The command is explicit. The people are not to add to or take away from the Word God has given. As Israel prepares to enter the land of Canaan, they carry with them a defined body of Scripture, guarded by a clear prohibition against human alteration.

Yet the narrative does not end there. After Israel enters the land, additional revelation is given. In Joshua 24, we read,

Joshua wrote these words in the Book of the Law of God. And he took a large stone and set it up there under the terebinth that was by the sanctuary of the LORD. And Joshua said to all the people, “Behold, this stone shall be a witness against us, for it has heard all the words of the LORD that he spoke to us.” (Joshua 24:26-27)

At first glance, this appears to contradict the earlier prohibition. God forbids adding to his Word, and yet Joshua adds to it. The resolution lies in the source of the addition. The prohibition targets human innovation. It does not restrict God himself. As the Author of Scripture, he retains the authority to give further revelation.

Both Joshua and the people recognized that what was being written was not merely human reflection but divine communication. Because these words bore the marks of God’s voice, they were received as Scripture and incorporated into the existing body of the Law.

This pattern continues throughout the Old Testament. As God speaks, his people recognize his voice. What is identified as divine revelation is received, preserved, and added to the canon.

The Structure and Recognition of the Old Testament Canon

Although the details of each book’s inclusion are not always recorded, it is clear that by the first century, God’s people recognized a defined canon. The Jewish historian Flavius Josephus, writing in the latter part of that century, states that the Jews possessed twenty-two books, which were regarded as divine and authoritative.

At first glance, this number appears inconsistent with the thirty-nine books found in the modern Old Testament. The difference, however, lies in the way the Hebrew Scriptures were organized. Several books that are separated in modern Bibles were combined in the Hebrew canon. Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles were each counted as single works. Judges and Ruth were joined, as were Jeremiah and Lamentations, and Ezra and Nehemiah. The Minor Prophets were collected into one unified book. Practical considerations, such as the limitations of scroll length, contributed to this arrangement.

In addition to this structure, the Hebrew Bible was arranged according to three broad categories: the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings. These categories are not based merely on literary genre but on the role each book plays within God’s unfolding revelation. What are often labeled “historical” books are included among the Prophets because they interpret Israel’s history through a covenantal framework. They do not simply recount events but demonstrate how obedience brings blessing and disobedience results in judgment.

Conversely, a book such as Daniel, though prophetic in content, is placed among the Writings due to its literary features and historical context. Written during the Babylonian exile, it contains apocalyptic visions and wisdom elements that distinguish it from earlier prophetic works such as Isaiah or Jeremiah. The Prophets emphasize the enforcement of the covenant within Israel’s history, while the Writings reflect more broadly on life with God.

This threefold division is reflected in the teaching of Jesus. When referring to the Scriptures, he does not use the term “Old Testament,” which had not yet come into use. Instead, he speaks of the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms, the latter representing the Writings as a whole. As recorded in Luke: “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled” (Luke 24:44).

The significance of this is substantial. The twenty-two books recognized by Josephus correspond to the same body of Scripture affirmed by Jesus. These were not the only religious writings in circulation. Other works, such as the Book of Enoch, were widely known among the Jewish people between roughly 200 BC and AD 100. Yet such writings were not included in the Hebrew canon. Though they were familiar to many, they were not regarded as divinely inspired. New Testament authors occasionally reference them in the same manner that Paul cites Greek poets, drawing on known material without attributing scriptural authority to it.

The recognition of the canon was not without occasional dispute. Certain books, including Ezekiel, Proverbs, Esther, Song of Solomon, and Ecclesiastes, were questioned by some. These debates, however, arose after these writings had already been broadly received as Scripture. They resemble modern attempts to challenge portions of the New Testament despite long-standing recognition of their authority.

Esther, in particular, drew criticism because it does not explicitly mention God. Nevertheless, the book unmistakably displays his providential hand throughout its narrative. For this reason, and in keeping with the consensus of God’s people, it remained within the canon.

Despite isolated objections, the overwhelming testimony of the Jewish community affirmed these books as the Word of God. More importantly, they were recognized as such by Jesus himself.

The Apocrypha and the Old Testament Canon

Jesus, Flavius Josephus, and the majority of the Jewish people recognized those twenty-two books, and only those twenty-two books, as comprising the Old Testament canon. This point is particularly significant when considering the presence of the Apocrypha in many printed Bibles. The Apocrypha consists of writings produced roughly between 400 BC and AD 100, between the completion of the Old Testament and the beginning of the New Testament.

When Jerome completed his Latin translation of the Bible, later known as the Vulgate, around AD 405, he included the Apocrypha. This translation became the most widely used Bible for more than a millennium. Likewise, the 1611 edition of the King James Bible included these writings. The Roman Catholic Church continues to include the Apocrypha, regarding those books as canonical. However, neither Jesus nor the apostles treated them as Scripture.

The New Testament authors cite the Old Testament with divine authority hundreds of times, yet they never cite the Apocrypha as Scripture. Even among early church writers, there is a consistent effort to distinguish these books from the inspired writings of the Old Testament. Jerome himself maintained this distinction. He referred to the recognized Scriptures as “books of the canon,” while describing the Apocrypha as “books of the church.” In his view, they could serve a useful role, particularly in conveying historical information, but they were not to function as the foundation for doctrine.

It was not until 1546, at the Council of Trent, that the Roman Catholic Church formally declared the Apocrypha to be canonical. Prior to that point, while these books were often read and circulated, they were not universally regarded as Scripture.

Josephus provides important historical insight into this issue. He notes that writings produced after the time of Artaxerxes, referring to what is now called the Apocrypha, were not considered to be of equal authority to the earlier records. The reason, he explains, is that there had been no recognized succession of prophets during that period.

This reflects a broader conviction among the Jewish people. With the cessation of prophetic revelation, the Old Testament canon was understood to be complete. Although Jesus does not articulate this principle in those exact terms, his affirmation of the established canon corresponds precisely to those same twenty-two books.

Some confusion regarding the Apocrypha arose due to changes in how texts were transmitted. The transition from scrolls to codices, an early form of the book, allowed multiple writings to be compiled into a single volume. This development offered practical advantages, but it also made it possible to include non-canonical works alongside canonical ones. When the Apocrypha appeared in the same codices as the Old Testament, some readers naturally assumed that all included writings carried equal authority.

Jerome himself initially shared this assumption. However, after relocating to Bethlehem and studying Hebrew manuscripts, he recognized that the Jewish community did not accept the Apocrypha as part of the canon. Although he continued to include these books in his translation, he made clear in his prefaces that he did not regard them as Scripture.

Apostolic Authority and the New Testament

With the Old Testament canon recognized as complete, the question naturally arises: what would lead an orthodox Jew to believe that additional Scripture could be given? The Apocrypha had already been rejected. What, then, would justify the conclusion that God was once again speaking in a way that would expand the canon?

Such a development would require a decisive act of God within redemptive history. That act was the coming of the long-awaited Messiah.

Yet a difficulty remains. Even if one accepted that Jesus was the Messiah, he did not produce written works to be added to the canon. Apart from the brief account of his writing on the ground in John 8, there is no record of him committing anything to writing. If the Messiah himself did not write Scripture, on what basis could the writings of others be received as authoritative? How could additional books be accepted after centuries of a closed canon?

The answer lies in the authority Christ conferred upon his apostles. Throughout his ministry, he established and prepared them to serve as his authorized representatives, equipping them to speak and, ultimately, to write with his authority.

In Matthew, Jesus says: “Whoever receives you [the apostles] receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me” (Matthew 10:44). The reception of the apostles is equated with the reception of Christ himself, and by extension, the Father who sent him. This establishes a direct line of authority.

In John 14, he further promises,

These things I have spoken to you while I am still with you. But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. (John 14:25-26)

Here, the role of the Holy Spirit is made explicit. The Spirit would teach the apostles and bring to their remembrance all that Christ had said. This was not a general promise to all believers, but a specific provision for those who would bear authoritative witness to Christ.

Their role as eyewitnesses is also emphasized. In Luke 24, after opening their minds to understand the Scriptures, Jesus says,

Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance for the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And behold, I am sending the promise of my Father upon you. (Luke 24:46-49)

The apostles are commissioned as witnesses to the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan and are promised divine empowerment for this task.

In this way, while the Messiah did not personally write Scripture, he appointed, authorized, and equipped the apostles to do so on his behalf. In certain cases, this authority extended to close associates such as Mark and Luke, whose writings were received under apostolic oversight. Through this divinely established means, the canon of Scripture was extended in continuity with God’s prior revelation.

The Recognition of the New Testament Canon

Subcollections of the New Testament began to function as recognized units of Scripture even before the entire New Testament was complete. The four Gospels, for example, were widely circulated and treated as authoritative while other books were still being written. By approximately AD 110, figures such as Ignatius of Antioch and Polycarp were already quoting the Gospels as authoritative texts. Within a few decades, Irenaeus could assert that the number of Gospels was fixed at four. Even prior to his writing, a harmony of the four Gospels had been produced, demonstrating how quickly the church recognized and received them as canonical.

The reception of Paul’s writings follows a similar pattern, though his personal history initially raised questions. After his conversion, some within the church hesitated to accept him. Nevertheless, his letters came to be widely recognized as authoritative. This recognition was not delayed until a later period but occurred during the apostolic age itself.

Peter provides decisive testimony on this matter. In his second epistle, he writes,

Count the patience of our Lord as salvation, just as our beloved brother Paul also wrote to you according to the wisdom given him, as he does in all his letters when he speaks in them of these matters. There are some things in them [that is, Paul’s letters] that are hard to understand, which the ignorant and unstable twist to their own destruction, as they do the other Scriptures. (2 Peter 3:15-16)

In this passage, Peter places Paul’s letters alongside “the other Scriptures,” using terminology consistently reserved for divinely inspired writings. This indicates that Paul’s epistles were already being received and classified as Scripture within the lifetime of the apostles.

Chronologically, this is significant. Paul’s letters appear to have been completed by around AD 68, while 2 Peter is commonly dated to the following decades. This means that the recognition of Paul’s writings as Scripture was not a later ecclesiastical development but an early and public acknowledgment.

Not all New Testament books, however, were received at the same pace. Several writings were gradually recognized, including Hebrews, James, 2 Peter, 2 John, 3 John, Jude, and Revelation. The hesitations surrounding these books were varied. Questions about authorship affected Hebrews, since the writer does not identify himself. Concerns about doctrinal consistency led some to scrutinize James in relation to Paul’s teaching on justification. The brevity of 2 and 3 John prompted uncertainty about their inclusion. Revelation’s apocalyptic imagery made some cautious in their assessment.

Second Peter, in particular, drew scrutiny due to its stylistic differences from 1 Peter. The third-century theologian Origen acknowledged this tension, noting that while one of Peter’s epistles was universally accepted, the second was disputed. The difference in Greek style, however, can be reasonably explained by the use of a scribe or by variation in context and composition.

These discussions, while they may appear minor, demonstrate the care exercised by the early church. The inclusion of a book in the canon was not taken lightly. The church did not accept writings merely because they claimed apostolic origin. Each text was examined to determine whether it truly bore the marks of divine inspiration. The guiding principle remained consistent with the earlier command: “You shall not add to the word that I command you” (Deuteronomy 4:2).

When the testimony of early Christian writers is considered, it becomes evident that most of the New Testament books were recognized by the end of the second century. By the close of the fourth century, all twenty-seven books were clearly identified as canonical. They were listed together, read publicly, and used in the regular life of the church.

As with the Old Testament, the process did not involve a sudden or external imposition. No definitive list descended in a single moment. Rather, the providence of God guided the church over time. Through recognition, use, and careful discernment, these twenty-seven books were identified as the Word of God, while others were set aside. Though the process unfolded gradually, it culminated in a settled, unified acknowledgment of the New Testament canon.

The Closure of the Canon

A final question may be considered. Suppose an archaeologist were to discover an ancient letter, purportedly written by the apostle Paul. Should such a document be added to the canon?

The answer is no.

The opening of Hebrews provides a necessary framework:

Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. (Hebrews 1:1-2)

God spoke in various ways through the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken definitively through his Son. This establishes a climactic moment in redemptive history. The coming of Christ marks the culmination of divine revelation.

As previously noted, the Old Testament canon was understood to be complete when prophetic revelation ceased. That situation changed only with the arrival of the Messiah. Although Christ himself did not write, he authorized his apostles to speak and write on his behalf. Through them, the New Testament was given.

With the conclusion of the apostolic era, however, that unique authority has ceased. Those commissioned witnesses are no longer present. The Son is not continuing to speak through new revelatory agents. Consequently, no one today possesses the authority to add to the canon.

The closing words of the New Testament reinforce this point:

I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book, and if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book. (Revelation 22:18-19)

While the warning is directed specifically to the book of Revelation, its placement at the conclusion of the canon is fitting. Just as the Old Testament was regarded as complete until the next decisive act of God, so the New Testament stands complete in anticipation of the next and final event in redemptive history.

That event is the return of Christ. Until then, the canon remains closed.

Suppose I’ve written a relatively short book of about 15,000 or 16,000 words by hand. The words are written in ink on papyrus, a paper-like material made from the papyrus plant. It’s fragile. Even a little moisture can ruin it.

I should also mention that I haven’t used a conventional writing style. There are no paragraph breaks, no punctuation, and not even spaces between words. All 16,000 words appear as one long, continuous sentence.

This book is extremely important, so I need as many copies as possible, but no one is allowed to use a copy machine. You can’t scan it or reproduce it digitally. Every copy must be made by hand, using papyrus or, if you can afford it, parchment made from animal skins. Regular paper isn’t an option.

I give my only copy to someone. It must be handled carefully because it’s the only one. That person makes a copy, then others make copies from that copy, and so on, until eventually everyone has one. Because this book is so important, it isn’t read just once but over and over again, with copies continuing to spread.

Over time, however, problems arise. Some copies are lost—spilled on, damaged, or destroyed. Some of you don’t speak English, so you translate the text into your own language. Later, someone else receives that translation and renders it back into English. As anyone who has used a translation tool knows, the wording may not come out exactly the same.

Even with careful copying, mistakes are inevitable. A scribe might skip a word or an entire line, misspell something, or include a marginal note that the next person assumes belongs in the text. From that point on, the addition is copied as though it were original.

Eventually, people begin comparing their copies and notice differences. Now the question arises: Which copy is accurate?

Ordinarily, we would consult the original. But in this case, the original has been ruined—left in a damp basement and lost. So how do we determine what it said?

The best option is to gather every available copy—say, fifty of them—and lay them out for comparison.

Suppose one sentence reads, “We were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children.” But some copies say, “We were little children among you.” One even says, “We were horses among you.”

At first glance, “gentle” seems to make the most sense. “Little children” sounds redundant. Calling oneself both a child and a mother in the same sentence feels awkward. And “horses” clearly does not fit.

But rather than relying on what sounds right, we can take a more careful approach. Arrange the copies chronologically, from oldest to newest, and look for patterns.

When we do that, we find that the five oldest copies all read “gentle.” The sixth introduces “little children,” and nearly every copy after that follows it, except for the single outlier that reads “horses.” While “little children” appears most frequently, “gentle” is found in the earliest witnesses.

Which is more likely to reflect the original? On the one hand, the earliest copies are closer in time to the original and therefore had less opportunity for corruption. On the other hand, the majority reading might suggest that “little children” was widely preserved, perhaps even from earlier copies we no longer possess.

This example is not hypothetical. It comes from 1 Thessalonians 2:7. In the ESV, the verse reads, “We were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children.” But a footnote indicates that “gentle” could also be translated as “infants” or “little children.” Why? Because among the thousands of surviving Greek manuscripts, hand-copied on papyrus or parchment, some read “gentle,” some read “little children,” and at least one reads “horses.”

In Greek, the words are strikingly similar: ēpioi, nēpioi, and hippoi. A small visual or auditory difference could easily lead to confusion. A scribe working with a smudged manuscript or poor lighting might misread the word, and his responsibility was not to interpret but simply to copy what he saw.

In other words, the presence of variation does not indicate carelessness so much as the reality of human transmission. And it is precisely by comparing these variations across many manuscripts that we are able to work back, with considerable confidence, to the original wording.

How Did We Get Our Bibles?

This brings us to the central question we’ll consider over the next few weeks: How did we get our Bibles?

It sounds like a simple question, but the illustration we’ve just considered shows that the answer is not so simple. After all, the sixty-six books of the Bible did not fall out of the sky in English, already bound in leather with gilded pages. No one would explicitly claim that, yet many Christians functionally think this way. We know that God inspired the text, and we assume that he preserved it, but we rarely stop to ask how he preserved it.

Without any real sense of the Bible’s history, it is easy to imagine a perfectly unbroken chain of copies—one flawless, word-for-word reproduction after another, generation after generation. Perhaps it was not in English, and perhaps without the leather binding, but still perfectly preserved in every detail by the hands of fallible men.

That is not what happened, and it is not a helpful assumption to carry.

I come from a King James Only background. My church believed that God preserved a perfect line of manuscripts and that those manuscripts were then translated perfectly into the King James Bible. As a result, no other English translation was considered trustworthy. The NIV, the ESV, and the New King James Version— All were regarded as corrupted.

In time, I studied the issue more carefully and concluded that King James Onlyism is indefensible. To be clear, I can defend the King James Bible, but not King James Onlyism. I will admit, however, that there was a moment in that study when I wondered whether this would undermine my confidence in Scripture. I was learning about thousands of textual variants, or differences between manuscripts, and even the Greek text behind the King James Version had undergone notable changes before its translation. It was enough to raise questions.

But I continued studying, and rather than weakening my confidence, it strengthened it. I came to understand the process. I was no longer relying on assumptions about how we got the Bible; I could see the historical evidence. What emerged was a remarkable testimony to God’s providence.

Over the years, people from my former denomination have reached out with similar concerns. Their messages often sound the same: “I started looking into the history of the Bible, and now I don’t know what to think. Can I really trust the Bible?”

One moment, they believe they are holding God’s perfectly preserved Word in the King James Version. Next, they are unsure whether 1 Thessalonians 2:7 should read “gentle” or “little children.” They notice that some modern translations omit verses. They see brackets around passages like the longer ending of Mark or the story of the woman caught in adultery in John 8, and they begin to wonder whether those passages belong in the Bible at all. Terms like “textual variants,” “textual criticism,” “critical text,” and Textus Receptus only add to the confusion.

For someone unfamiliar with the Bible’s history, it can be overwhelming and even unsettling. But for someone who understands that history, the picture looks very different.

Consider two possible scenarios. In the first, we have only one version of the Bible. Every copy is identical, but we possess no ancient manuscripts and no evidence tracing its history. We are forced to assume that the text has remained unchanged for thousands of years, but we have no way to verify that assumption.

In the second scenario—that is, our current reality—we possess thousands of manuscripts, some dating back many centuries. They are not identical. There are differences between them, and we must work through those differences carefully. But those very differences allow us to compare, analyze, and trace the text’s history with remarkable precision.

Which scenario is preferable?

The first has the advantage of simplicity. The second has the advantage of evidence, and with it, historical authenticity.

If the Bible is anything, it is historically authentic. Both its content and its transmission unfold within real history, among real people. God works through ordinary, fallible means to accomplish his purposes. The story of Scripture itself reflects this pattern. Even the lineage of the Messiah is marked by flawed and sinful individuals, yet God’s purposes stand.

For contrast, consider the claims often made about the Quran. It is frequently said to be perfectly preserved, sometimes as a critique of the Bible’s textual history. But what is often left unsaid is that many variant manuscripts of the Quran were intentionally destroyed in its early history. As a result, there is far less ability to trace its textual development over time.

The Bible presents a different case. Yes, scribes made mistakes. But because we have so many manuscripts, those mistakes are visible. They can be identified, compared, and evaluated. We can often determine not only what the original likely said, but also how and why variations arose.

If we had only one copy, we would have no such ability. If 1 Thessalonians 2:7 read “horses,” we would have no basis for questioning it.

The Inspiration of Scripture

Before we consider differences between manuscripts and how they are resolved, we need to go back to the beginning and ask how the Bible was inspired.

The clearest statement on this is found in 2 Timothy 3:16, where Paul writes, “All Scripture is breathed out by God.” Some translations, such as the King James Version or the New King James Version, say, “given by inspiration of God.” That is an acceptable rendering, but it does not fully capture Paul’s meaning. The word he uses literally means “God-breathed.” Scripture is not merely inspired in the way we might speak of being inspired by a beautiful sunset. Rather, its very origin is divine. The words themselves are breathed out by God.

What, then, does that mean?

Much of our understanding here is indebted to B.B. Warfield, who studied this term extensively. Today, most translations clarify the meaning by rendering it “God breathed out,” which is helpful. Some, however, have suggested the opposite—that God breathes into Scripture, much like he breathed life into Adam in Genesis 2:7. On that view, human authors produced the words, and God later infused them with life.

But as Warfield observed, Paul’s term does not support that idea. The emphasis is not on God breathing into human words but on God himself breathing out the words of Scripture. The Bible is not ultimately the product of human initiative later elevated by God; it is of divine origin from the beginning.

What role, then, did the human authors play? How did God breathe out his words through them?

In some cases, Scripture reflects what might be called direct dictation. For example, in Revelation 2:1, Christ tells John exactly what to write, but this is not the norm. More often, what we see is what is called double authorship—that is, God and man, working simultaneously.

The apostle Peter describes it this way: “For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit” (2 Peter 1:21). The words are not produced by human will, yet the human authors are not bypassed. They are “carried along” by the Spirit.

This is evident in the distinct voices we encounter throughout Scripture. When we read Amos, we hear the voice of a shepherd, with simple language and agrarian imagery. When we read Isaiah, we encounter elevated, refined poetry, consistent with someone moving in royal circles. The personalities, experiences, and writing styles of the authors are fully present.

God did not treat these men as passive instruments, as though they were merely typewriters. A better illustration, though still imperfect, is that of a ship. The ship is constructed with sails and a rudder, and a human hand steers it, but the wind drives it to its destination. In a similar way, the human authors wrote in their own voices, yet they were carried along by the Spirit to produce exactly what God intended.

To understand this more fully, we must consider the providence of God. Wayne Grudem summarizes it well:

In cases where the ordinary human personality and writing style of the author were prominently involved, as seems the case with most of Scripture, all that we are able to say is that God’s providential oversight and direction of the life of each author was such that their personalities, their backgrounds and training, their abilities to evaluate events in the world around them, their access to historical data, their judgment with regard to the accuracy of information, and their individual circumstances when they wrote were all exactly what God wanted them to be, so that when they actually came to the point of putting pen to paper, the words were fully their own words but also fully the words that God wanted them to write, words that God would also claim as his own.

In other words, God did not only act in the moment of writing. He was preparing these men over the course of their lives so that, when they wrote, they would produce the precise words he intended.

This helps explain the variety we see in Scripture. At times, the authors declare, “Thus says the Lord,” recording direct revelation. At other times, the writing appears to be the result of ordinary human effort. Consider the introduction to Luke’s Gospel:

Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught. (Luke 1:1-4)

Luke describes a careful investigative process, including examining sources, consulting eyewitnesses, and compiling an orderly account. He is not receiving a vision at that moment; he has done historical work. Yet through that process, God is bringing about his Word. Luke’s study, judgment, and writing are all part of the means by which God breathes out Scripture.

This was true throughout the entire Bible, written by roughly 40 human authors across three continents over about 1,500 years.

We are often tempted to think of the Bible as though it descended from heaven in finished form. When we think that way about inspiration, it is easy to assume that its preservation must have happened in the same way—detached from history, untouched by human limitations.

But that is not how God has worked. From inspiration to canonization to transmission and translation, he has operated through ordinary means, through real people, and within the circumstances of history. Those people were fallible, and the process was often messy, yet God’s providence governed it all.

For that reason, when we encounter scribal errors or textual variants, they should not lead us to question the reliability of Scripture. They are consistent with the way God has always worked. The history of Israel, the life of the New Testament church, and even the accomplishment of redemption itself all testify to a God who fulfills his purposes through imperfect people and real historical processes.

Scripture did not fall out of the sky. God sovereignly guided the lives of its authors so that, in due time, they would write exactly what he intended.

The Wisdom of the Written Word

Before moving on from the inspiration of Scripture, it is worth emphasizing the wisdom of God in the medium he chose. In a world where oral tradition was common, he chose the written word as the vehicle for his revelation. In Exodus 17:14, he tells Moses, “Write this as a memorial in a book.” Later, in Exodus 31:18, he reinforces this by personally inscribing the Ten Commandments on stone tablets, “written with the finger of God.”

Why would God choose writing rather than relying on oral tradition? There are at least three practical reasons.

First, writing provides greater accuracy in preservation. As many mistakes as can occur when copying a written text, far more would arise if a message were passed along only by word of mouth. Writing establishes a fixed, enduring record. It not only preserves the message more reliably across generations, but it also allows for a much greater volume of content to be retained. The human mind has limits. Very few people could commit all sixty-six books of the Bible to memory.

Second, writing allows for widespread accessibility and dissemination. If God’s revelation were purely oral, it would be limited to those within earshot of a prophet or apostle. Writing, however, enables the message to travel. It can be carried across regions and nations, making God’s Word accessible to people far removed from its original setting.

Third, the written word allows for repeated inspection. It can be studied carefully and revisited as often as needed. This is one reason I have transcribed my sermons for years. When we listen, we inevitably miss things. Even with notes, our retention is limited. But a written text allows us to examine every word at our own pace. As one preacher once cautioned me, “You may suffer wounds by what you speak, but you can die by what you write.” In other words, spoken errors may pass quickly, but written words endure.

Of course, God does not err in his speech, so he intends for his Word to have that permanence. He calls his people to return to it continually: “Blessed is the man [whose] delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night” (Psalm 1:1–2). Such meditation is made possible because God has given his Word in a tangible, written form.

It is also worth noting the significance of the alphabet itself. Written languages based on symbols or hieroglyphics required memorizing thousands of characters. By contrast, an alphabet reduces language to a small set of letters—twenty-two in Hebrew, twenty-six in English—that can be combined to form any word. This simplicity and flexibility greatly expand the accessibility of written communication. It is not difficult to see the providence of God even here, equipping humanity with a system well suited for the transmission of his Word.

Next, we will consider the canonization of the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, before turning to its transmission throughout history.

We have covered a great deal in our study of worship, so I want to begin with a brief review. This is not an attempt to revisit everything from the past seven weeks, but to recall the central thread running through it all.

We began with a simple yet essential question: Does God care how we worship him? Scripture makes clear that he does. Throughout both the Old and New Testaments, God consistently reveals that worship is not to be shaped by human creativity or preference. He alone determines what is acceptable. This leads us to the regulative principle of worship, which teaches that we are to do in worship only what God has revealed in his Word, either by explicit command or necessary implication.

We have also considered why this matters. The church is a holy people set apart for God, and worship is the most distinct activity we engage in as his people. At the same time, the Bible is both authoritative and sufficient, so God has not left us to guess how he is to be worshiped. When we hold these truths together, it becomes clear that worship must be shaped and governed by God’s Word. Left to ourselves, we will inevitably innovate in ways that distort both worship and our understanding of God.

On a practical level, we have also seen that not everything the church does constitutes worship and is therefore not regulated in the same way. Corporate worship is uniquely holy, and within it Scripture gives us specific elements. So far, we have considered the reading and preaching of the Word, prayer, singing, giving, the Lord’s Supper, and even the congregation’s corporate response to God’s Word.

Finally, we distinguished between the elements of worship and the circumstances of worship. The elements are fixed by Scripture, either explicitly commanded or implied through example or apostolic approval. The circumstances, however, are not always specified and therefore require wisdom guided by general biblical principles. For example, while we are commanded to worship and can infer that the church gathers on Sunday, Scripture does not tell us what time to meet. That decision falls under the category of circumstances that require prudent judgment shaped by biblical wisdom.

Worship in Spirit, Truth, and Reverence

We must also remember that true worship is to be “in spirit and truth” (John 4:24). It must be according to God’s Word, but it must also be sincere, humble, and reverent. And let me emphasize, reverent. Hebrews 12:28–29 says, “Let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire.”

Acceptable worship, then, is defined in part by the reverence and awe with which we approach God. Careful obedience to his Word is certainly implied. If we truly reverence God, we will submit to what he has said. But this also speaks to our posture or spirit. Do we come before him flippantly or carelessly, or do we approach him with humility and reverence?

There should be a seriousness to our worship. That does not mean we must always be somber, as if attending a funeral. There is and should be deep joy in worship. But, as Paul shows in 1 Corinthians 14, joy is not the same as disorder. It is not disobedience or carelessness. We can approach God with great joy while still doing so with reverence and awe, taking seriously what his Word says about worship. We should take it seriously because, as Hebrews reminds us, “our God is a consuming fire.”

This serves as a governing principle for everything we have considered. In many ways, it forms the foundation of the regulative principle of worship. Worship is not first about our subjective emotional experience, though that has often become the priority in many churches. Acceptable worship is not defined by what we feel but by humble submission to God and careful obedience to what he has revealed as acceptable.

Singing and the Question of Musical Instruments

With that, let’s pick up where we left off. We were considering singing as an element of worship, and, more specifically, the circumstances surrounding it. These are the details for which we do not have explicit commands. We are commanded to sing, but we are not told whether to use choirs or whether to sing from hymnals or a screen. Now we turn to the question of musical instruments.

The use of instruments is not a given. I came from a church that did not use them, arguing that we do not see the apostolic church of the first century using instruments in worship. That observation is true. So before asking which instruments are acceptable or how they should be used, we must first ask whether they should be used at all.

Some may respond instinctively, “The church has used instruments for a long time. Why debate it?” But whatever conclusion we reach, our aim is to “offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe” (Hebrews 12:28). As Solomon says, “Guard your steps when you go to the house of God” (Ecclesiastes 5:1). It is never unwise to think carefully about both the elements and the circumstances of worship. Our first question should not be, What can I do? Rather, if we are approaching worship with reverence and awe, our question should be, What does God want?

So what does God want regarding musical instruments?

First, we must remember that the commanded element is singing. I love music, including instrumental music, but in worship, instruments are not the priority. They may be permissible and even helpful, but they are not primary. According to the New Testament, singing is central, specifically congregational singing. Any use of instruments must serve that purpose.

That gives us our starting point. If the New Testament gives no explicit command regarding instruments, how do we decide? The Baptist Confession helps us here: “We recognize that some circumstances concerning the worship of God … are to be ordered by the light of nature and Christian wisdom, following the general rules of the Word, which must always be observed.”

By the “light of nature,” we can reasonably conclude that instruments may aid our singing. Many find them helpful for pitch, rhythm, and unity. At the same time, we must apply Christian wisdom, guided by Scripture.

When we look to the New Testament, we see no clear example of instruments in the early church’s gathered worship. Historically, there is little evidence of their use for several centuries. Whatever conclusions we draw from that, it at least shows that instruments are not necessary for worship. If they were, we would expect a command or an apostolic example. Since we have neither, we should avoid dogmatism. If a church chooses not to use instruments, that is a position we can respect, even if we do not share it.

Old Testament Precedent and Christian Wisdom

While we do not see instruments used in the New Testament, we do find a clear precedent for them in the Old Testament. For example, in 1 Chronicles 23, we read:

David assembled all the leaders of Israel and the priests and the Levites. The Levites, thirty years old and upward, were numbered, and the total was 38,000 men. “Twenty-four thousand of these,” David said, “shall have charge of the work in the house of the LORD, 6,000 shall be officers and judges, 4,000 gatekeepers, and 4,000 shall offer praises to the LORD with the instruments that I have made for praise.” (1 Chronicles 23:2–5)

This was a large number of musicians, though they did not all play at once. In 1 Chronicles 25, David organized them into twenty-four divisions to serve in rotation. The primary instruments appear to have been lyres, harps, and cymbals—mainly stringed instruments with some percussion. That detail is worth noting, especially since strong opinions often arise about which instruments are appropriate for worship.

At my previous church, a Reformed Baptist congregation, we did not use instruments, not out of conviction against them, but simply because no one was able to play. We did, however, discuss the subject. One of the other elders expressed comfort with most instruments except drums. I understood his concern. At times, I have heard worship music where the percussion was so prominent that it distracted from the singing. It did not seem fitting.

But does that mean a church should never use drums? Not necessarily. The Old Testament shows that God accepted at least some forms of percussion, so we cannot make a universal rule forbidding them. At the same time, what I have called the doctrine of carefulness should lead us to think critically about how such instruments are used.

This brings us back to the distinction between personal preference and biblical principle. When questions arise about the circumstances of worship, they should be discussed with humility and a desire for unity. Ultimately, however, the church is called to trust its elders’ oversight. Paul tells the elders in Ephesus, “The Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to care for the church of God” (Acts 20:28). Peter exhorts elders to “shepherd the flock of God … exercising oversight” (1 Peter 5:1–2). Hebrews instructs believers, “Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls” (Hebrews 13:17).

The Lord knows that we will not always agree on matters like these. For that reason, he has given the church overseers to exercise wisdom, guided by the general rules of his Word, and to lead in making such decisions. Because we are dealing with circumstances rather than commanded elements, these issues should never become points of contention or division. In many cases, there is no single right or wrong answer. We should never disrupt the unity of the church over matters of Christian liberty.

The Fullness of Praise in Psalm 150

Let me offer one more example from the Old Testament:

Praise the LORD!
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens!
Praise him for his mighty deeds;
praise him according to his excellent greatness!

Praise him with trumpet sound;
praise him with lute and harp!
Praise him with tambourine and dance;
praise him with strings and pipe!
Praise him with sounding cymbals;
praise him with loud clashing cymbals!
Let everything that has breath praise the LORD!
Praise the LORD! (Psalm 150:1–6)

This is perhaps the fullest list in Scripture of instruments used in the praise of God. We see wind instruments, stringed instruments, and percussion—a full spectrum of sound. Some are loud, some melodic, and some primarily rhythmic. When used rightly, they serve as the means by which the people of God praise him.

It is interesting that the psalm does not explicitly mention singing. It may be implied in the closing line, “Let everything that has breath praise the LORD,” but the omission is still striking. Without presuming the author’s intent, it may be that singing was so universally understood that it did not need to be stated. If so, the emphasis here may be that God is so worthy of praise that voices alone seem insufficient. It’s as if to say, Yes, sing, but those who can play, take up your instruments. Fill the sanctuary with praise. Let it rise to the mighty heavens.

There are moments when that impulse resonates. Worship is not first about emotional experience, but it is not devoid of emotion either. There are times when the greatness of God compels us to sing with greater strength and fullness. We want the sound of praise to reflect, however imperfectly, the worth of the one we worship.

The psalmist even mentions dancing. Scripture does not present dancing as a regular element of corporate worship, and what is described in the Bible may differ from what we typically imagine. Still, its inclusion suggests that, at times, words alone feel insufficient to express the joy of praising God. The body itself responds. This helps explain why some prefer to stand while singing, or why expressions such as raised hands or subtle movement may accompany heartfelt praise.

Tradition and church culture may encourage stillness or limit the kinds of instruments used. Personal preference may do the same. Yet the Old Testament provides a clear precedent: instruments, and a variety of them, can be used in the worship of God. We are seeking to “praise him according to his excellent greatness” (Psalm 150:2). We offer the best of our voices and, where appropriate, the best of our instruments, striving to render a fitting expression of the praise he deserves.

Instruments in Redemptive Context

Those who oppose the use of instruments will rightly note that the Old Testament describes worship under the old covenant. That is true. But when we look ahead to the book of Revelation, we again see instruments in the worship of heaven. Alongside singing, which remains central, we find references to harps accompanying the praise of God’s people.

This presents an interesting pattern. Instruments appear in old covenant worship and in heavenly worship, yet they are absent from the recorded practice of the early church. We can only speculate as to why. It may have been due to practical limitations, or perhaps their use simply was not recorded. The question is whether that absence is sufficient reason to prohibit instruments in the church today. I would argue that it is not, for at least two reasons.

First, the apostles were careful to address practices from both Jewish and Gentile backgrounds that were not appropriate for the church. If instruments—long used in Jewish worship—were no longer permissible, we would expect explicit instruction to that effect. We would expect the apostles to say, “Do not use instruments,” and to explain why. Yet we find no such prohibition.

Second, there are things carried over from old covenant worship, and there are things that are not. What makes the difference? Christ. As the book of Hebrews shows, Jesus fulfilled the ceremonial law—namely, the types and shadows. That is why we no longer offer animal sacrifices.

But musical instruments do not fall into that same category. Though they were later used in temple worship, they were not part of the original structure of the ceremonial law given through Moses. Israel worshiped according to that law both before and after the introduction of instruments, suggesting they were not essential to it. The New Testament also gives us no reason to believe Christ fulfilled or set aside the use of musical instruments.

For that reason, it is best to understand instruments not as elements of worship tied to the ceremonial system, but as circumstances. As such, they may be used with Christian wisdom, in accordance with the general rules of the Word.

Practical Wisdom for the Use of Musical Instruments

Let me offer a few practical considerations regarding musical instruments. These are not hard rules from Scripture but attempts to apply Christian wisdom.

Most importantly, instruments should never distract from or discourage congregational singing. This applies to everything from volume to song selection. If the music is too loud, people will be less inclined to sing, and they will not be able to hear one another. But part of the purpose of singing is mutual edification—we are addressing and teaching one another through song—and that requires hearing one another.

We should also choose songs suited for congregational singing. Songs written for professional performers are often difficult for an entire congregation to sing well. Along similar lines, it is unwise to introduce an entirely new set of songs each week. While variety is good and learning new songs is beneficial, most of what we sing should be familiar so that the congregation can participate confidently.

We must also guard against turning worship into a spectator event. The priority is for the whole church to sing together. Scripture does not prescribe where musicians should be positioned, but we should be careful not to create an environment that feels like a performance. When music becomes something to watch rather than something to join, it has begun to move beyond its proper role. Since instrumental music is not itself an element of worship, its purpose is to support the congregation’s singing. If it ceases to do that and takes on a life of its own, something has gone wrong.

Finally, it is not wise to divide the church into separate “traditional” and “contemporary” services. While this may seem like a practical solution, it is not ideal. Scripture repeatedly calls the church to unity. As Paul writes,

[Be] eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call— one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. But grace was given to each one of us according to the measure of Christ’s gift. (Ephesians 4:3–7)

“There is one body,” Paul says. To divide the church over musical style is, in effect, to divide that body over a matter of circumstance—something shaped largely by preference rather than biblical command.

The Lord’s Supper as an Element of Worship

Having said more than enough about music, though certainly not everything that could be said, let’s turn to the final parts of worship: the Lord’s Supper and baptism. The 1689 Confession states:

Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are ordinances of positive and sovereign institution. They are appointed by the Lord Jesus the only lawgiver and are to be continued in His church to the end of the age.

These ordinances deserve more attention than we can give them here, but we should at least establish that they belong within corporate worship. While they are sometimes treated as distinct from the church’s gathered worship, there is a strong case that they are, in fact, elements of it.

Regarding the Lord’s Supper, Sam Waldron writes:

The first celebration of the Lord’s Supper was in the original church composed of the Lord Jesus Christ and His apostles at what is called the Last Supper. (Matthew 26:19–30)

The Lord’s Supper symbolizes the unity of the church and thus is and must be celebrated in the context of the gathering of a local church where that unity is visible. (1 Corinthians 10:16–17)

The apostolic directions with regard to the celebration of the Lord’s Supper emphasize that it was and is to be celebrated in a meeting of the church in which careful regard was to be had for the visible unity of the church. (1 Corinthians 11:17–34)

First Corinthians 11 makes clear that the Lord’s Supper is intended for the formal, corporate gathering of the church rather than informal settings. Even if it is not observed every time the church gathers—a matter of circumstance not prescribed in Scripture—it should not be viewed as separate from worship.

Consider its purpose. In the Supper, we remember Christ’s atoning work, proclaim his death, and confess our ongoing need for him. We are reminded of how the Lord has saved us and continue to depend upon him. At the same time, this shared participation expresses and strengthens the unity of the church. For that reason, it naturally belongs within the church’s corporate worship.

Baptism as an Element of Worship

Baptism differs somewhat from the Lord’s Supper. We never see the Supper practiced apart from the corporate gathering of the church, and part of its significance is to underscore the body’s unity. Baptism, however, focuses more on the individual, and Scripture gives examples of it occurring outside a formal gathering. As Sam Waldron explains, “Baptism is like prayer, singing, and the preaching of the Word. It may properly be practiced both in informal settings outside the church and in the formal gatherings of the church.”

Even so, baptisms can be, and in most cases should be, part of the church’s formal worship. Under the regulative principle, we must show from Scripture that baptism is positively instituted by Christ, belongs to the gathered church, and functions in a way consistent with other elements of worship.

First, baptism is clearly commanded by Christ: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them” (Matthew 28:19).

Second, baptism is entrusted to the church. This pattern appears throughout Acts. In Acts 2:41, those who receive the Word are baptized and added to the church. In Acts 8:12, baptism accompanies a believer’s visible identification with the church. In Acts 10:47–48, it is administered under apostolic oversight. Baptism, then, is tied to church membership and visible inclusion under the church’s authority, not merely a private spiritual act.

Romans 6 further suggests its public nature: “We were buried therefore with [Christ] by baptism into death … in order that … we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:3–4). Baptism is a visible and public testimony, and that visibility implies a gathered body to witness it.

Finally, baptism functions in a way consistent with other elements of worship. Preaching proclaims the gospel audibly, while baptism proclaims the same gospel visibly. Romans 6 portrays union with Christ, death to sin, and resurrection to new life—truths ordinarily taught in preaching but dramatized before the congregation in baptism.

It also parallels the Lord’s Supper, which visibly proclaims the gospel: “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death” (1 Corinthians 11:26). Preaching is audible proclamation, baptism is visible initiation into that reality, and the Supper is its ongoing visible proclamation. All three proclaim Christ and, for that reason, belong in the church’s worship.

The Benediction as an Element of Worship

Finally, let me briefly mention one more element of worship: the benediction. It may be understood as a distinct element because it is explicitly instituted by God, publicly pronounced over his gathered people, and functions as a unique act of divine blessing, rather than a prayer offered by the congregation.

In Numbers 6:22–27, the Lord commands the priests to bless Israel with specific words and promises to act through that blessing. This pattern continues in the New Testament, where the apostles regularly pronounce blessings over the churches. Unlike prayer, which is directed to God, the benediction declares God’s favor to his people. It serves as his final word to the assembled church.

For these reasons, it is fitting to recognize the benediction as an element of worship.

With that, we conclude our study of worship. I pray it has been helpful and a blessing.

When Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper the night before his death, he told his disciples, “Do this in remembrance of me,” referring to his broken body and shed blood (Luke 22:19). The apostle Paul later adds, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Corinthians 11:26). We are to return again and again to that Friday when Jesus was crucified.

As much as we might be inclined to move quickly to the resurrection, Jesus directs our attention first to his suffering and death. We are meant to linger there, to remember it, and to reflect on it often.

What follows, then, is a unified account of the crucifixion1 drawn from all four Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. By bringing these together, we can see the fullest picture of that day that Scripture gives us.

The narrative begins after Jesus’s trials in the early hours of Friday morning, with Governor Pilate’s final decision to hand him over to be crucified.

The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ

Wishing to satisfy the crowd, Pilate decided that [the Jews’] demand should be granted. He released the man who had been thrown into prison for insurrection and murder. But he delivered Jesus over to their will to be crucified. So they took Jesus, stripped him of the purple cloak, and put his own clothes on him. And they led him out to crucify him.

So they took Jesus, bearing his own cross. And as they led him away, they compelled a passerby, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross. [They] laid on him the cross to carry it behind Jesus.

And there followed him a great multitude of the people and of women who were mourning and lamenting for him. But turning to them, Jesus said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us,’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’ For if they do these things when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him.

And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall, but when he tasted it, he would not drink it.

And it was the third hour when they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left, and Jesus between them. And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Pilate also wrote an inscription of the charge against him and put it on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” Many of the Jews read this inscription, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Aramaic, in Latin, and in Greek. So the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write, ‘The King of the Jews,’ but rather, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’”

Pilate answered, “What I have written I have written.”

When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his garments and divided them into four parts, one part for each soldier; also his tunic. But the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from top to bottom, so they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it shall be.” This was to fulfill the Scripture which says, “They divided my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.” So the soldiers did these things, then they sat down and kept watch over him there. And the people stood by, watching.

And those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.”

So also the chief priests with the scribes mocked him to one another, saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One! Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe. He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him. For he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’”

The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!”

And the robbers who were crucified with him also reviled him in the same way. One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And [Jesus] said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour, the disciple took her to his own home.

When the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour while the sun’s light failed. And at the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

And some of the bystanders, hearing it, said, “Behold, he is calling Elijah.”

After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfill the Scripture), “I thirst.” A jar full of sour wine stood there, so someone ran and filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a reed, and held it to his mouth to drink.

But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.”

When Jesus had received the sour wine, [he] cried out again with a loud voice, “It is finished.” And he bowed his head and, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this, he breathed his last and gave up his spirit.

And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he praised God, saying, “Certainly this man was innocent!”

And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook, and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened. And many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised, and coming out of the tombs after his resurrection, they went into the holy city and appeared to many.

When the centurion and those who were with him, keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe and said, “Truly this was the Son of God!”

And all the crowds that had assembled for this spectacle, when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts. And all his acquaintances and the women who had followed him from Galilee stood at a distance watching these things, among whom were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome the mother of the sons of Zebedee. When he was in Galilee, they followed him and ministered to him, and there were also many other women who came up with him to Jerusalem.

Since it was the day of Preparation, and so that the bodies would not remain on the cross on the Sabbath (for that Sabbath was a high day), the Jews asked Pilate that their legs might be broken and that they might be taken away. So the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first, and of the other who had been crucified with him. But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water. He who saw it has borne witness—his testimony is true, and he knows that he is telling the truth—that you also may believe. For these things took place that the Scripture might be fulfilled: “Not one of his bones will be broken.” And again, another Scripture says, “They will look on him whom they have pierced.”

The Sinfulness of Man

Having considered the full account of our Lord’s crucifixion, we can begin by drawing attention to the sinfulness of man.

I do not merely mean that sinners were present that day. Of course they were. What I mean is that the depravity of the human heart was on full display. Consider the people gathered around Jesus and what they did and said.

First, there were the Roman soldiers. They mocked him, stripped him, nailed him to the cross, and divided his garments among themselves. As Jesus hung there in agony, they gambled for his tunic.

Then there were the religious leaders—the chief priests, scribes, and elders. If anyone should have recognized who Jesus was, it was they. They had the law, the prophets, and the promises concerning the Messiah. Yet they did not weep for the Lord of lords. They demanded his crucifixion and then mocked him, saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself.”

Do you hear the irony? Subtly, they were proclaiming the truth. “He saved others; he cannot save himself.” That is true, though not in the way they intended. He could not save himself because he was saving others. He had the power to save himself, but he would not, so that he might, as was said at his birth, “save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

There were also the passersby who had assembled for the spectacle. They were neither soldiers nor religious authorities. They had no reason to be there except curiosity, yet they joined in the scorn, wagging their heads and hurling insults.

Even the criminals crucified beside him joined in. As one of them later confessed, they deserved their punishment, but what had Christ done? “This man has done nothing wrong.”

Look at the scene. Everyone is represented—Gentiles and Jews, rulers and common people, civil and religious authorities, violent men and outwardly respectable citizens. What unites them? They despise Christ.

When some speak of sin, it can sound like little more than a mistake—poor decisions, perhaps, but nothing serious. The cross exposes that lie. These people are not merely indifferent to Christ’s suffering; they celebrate it and add to it. This is what Paul means when he says, “The mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God” (Romans 8:7). The carnal mind does not simply ignore God; it opposes him.

This sinfulness is universal. We may be tempted to look at those people and ask, How could they do such a thing? Yet what we see in them is what we all are apart from grace. Paul writes, “While we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son” (Romans 5:10). In Ephesians 2, he says,

You were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. (Ephesians 2:1-3)

Apart from God’s grace and Christ’s redemptive work, there is no difference between those who mocked and crucified Jesus and us. We should never treat our sin as a light matter. We opposed God himself. Our sin was so serious, so pervasive, and so offensive that nothing less than the death of his Son could atone for it.

The sinfulness of man is seen not only in the cruelty of the cross but also in the blindness of the people. What did Jesus pray? “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

They were not innocent, but their sin had blinded them. They looked upon the long-promised Messiah, the Son of God, the Righteous One, and did not recognize him. Where there was divine power, they saw weakness; where there was victory, they saw defeat; where there was glory, they saw shame. This is what sin does. It darkens the mind and hardens the heart, and it was on full display at the cross.

The Substitution of Christ

The second thing the cross reveals is Christ’s substitution. This is the heart of what is happening, so we must not miss it.

The entire narrative emphasizes Christ’s innocence. The repentant criminal says, “This man has done nothing wrong.” Pilate says the same, finding no fault in him and showing reluctance to crucify him. Herod does not condemn him. Even the centurion at the foot of the cross declares, “Certainly this man was innocent.” Jesus does not belong on that cross. He is not a criminal or a sinner. He has done nothing worthy of death. And yet, there he is.

Why? Because he is not there for himself, but for others. He is a substitute.

At the beginning of the narrative, Jesus is led away to Golgotha while Barabbas, a murderer, is set free. The guilty goes free, and the innocent is condemned. Barabbas deserved death, but Jesus took his place.

Then, at the cross, one criminal says to the other, “We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.” Again, the guilty and the innocent stand side by side. What is Jesus doing among the guilty? The prophet Isaiah answers,

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces, he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:3-5)

A few verses later, he writes, “He poured out his soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:12).

Or, as Paul says, “For our sake [God] made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21).

This is what is happening at the cross. Jesus is not suffering for his own sins, but for the sins of many. He can serve as their substitute because he is the sinless God-Man. Having no sins of his own, he steps into our place and bears the wrath we deserved.

Derick Bingham captures this exchange vividly when he writes,

I gave Him a crown of thorns, He gave me a crown of righteousness. I gave Him a cross to carry, He gave me His yoke which is easy, His burden which is light. I gave Him nails through His hands, He gave me safely into His Father’s hands from which no power can pluck me. I gave Him a mock title, ‘This is the King of the Jews.’ He gave me a new name and made me a king and a priest to God. I gave Him no covering, stripping His clothes from Him, He gave me a garment of salvation. I gave Him mockery, casting the same in His teeth, He gave me Paradise. I gave Him vinegar to drink, He gave me Living Water. I crucified and slew Him on a tree, He gave me eternal life. It was my sinfulness that put Him there. It is His sinlessness that puts me here.

This substitution is also seen in the case of the thief on the cross. He moves from reviling Christ to confessing his guilt and pleading, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Even as Jesus appears to be defeated, the man believes he still reigns, that death will not be the end, and that he can still save.

Jesus answers him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

What could that man do for himself? Nothing. He was at the point of death. There was no opportunity for restitution, no good work to perform. All he could do was cast himself on the mercy of Christ, trusting that Christ’s death was enough to save. And it was because the Righteous One was bearing the penalty of the unrighteous.

The Accomplishment of Redemption

The third thing the cross reveals is the accomplishment of redemption.

From noon until three in the afternoon, darkness covers the land. Throughout Scripture, darkness is often associated with the judgment of God. Think of the plague of darkness in Egypt or the prophetic descriptions of the day of the Lord. Darkness signals judgment; it signals divine wrath. At the end of this darkness, Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Here, the deepest agony of the cross is revealed. The nails were terrible, the scourging was terrible, and the humiliation was terrible. But the greatest suffering was not physical; it was judicial. The Son was bearing the curse of sin. As Paul writes, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us” (Galatians 3:13).

That is what is happening in the darkness. Behind that cry of abandonment is the reality that Jesus is enduring the wrath of God for our sin.

Yet at the end of this suffering, Jesus declares, “It is finished.” The work he came to accomplish is complete. The Scriptures are fulfilled, the price is paid, the sacrifice is offered, and the wrath of God has been borne. The debt is canceled. Nothing is left undone.

Immediately, the effects of this finished work become evident. The curtain of the sanctuary is torn from top to bottom, not from bottom to top, as if man were forcing his way into God’s presence, but from top to bottom. God himself opens the way. The barrier between a holy God and sinful man is removed through the death of Christ.

The earth quakes, the rocks split, and tombs are opened. Creation itself responds to the death of its Maker.

Then the centurion, seeing what had taken place, says, “Truly this man was the Son of God.” The irony is striking. Earlier, the mockers said, “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” But the centurion recognizes that Jesus is the Son of God precisely because he does not come down. His remaining on the cross proves that his death accomplished redemption.

The apostle John adds, “He who saw it has borne witness—that you also may believe.” Believe what? That Jesus is the Christ; that he truly died, though he did not deserve it; that the Scriptures were fulfilled in him; that he is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

The crucifixion account does not leave us merely with a collection of historical facts. It calls us to believe. If we see ourselves in the mocking crowds, the indifferent soldiers, or the religious leaders who demanded his death, we must look again. See the sinfulness of man. See the substitution of Christ. See the accomplishment of redemption.

Like the thief on the cross, we should confess our sins and turn to Christ. Like the centurion, we should confess, “Truly this man was the Son of God.” Like the crowds, we should walk away, beating our breasts over what we have seen.

And even after we have trusted in Christ as our only hope of salvation, we return to the cross again and again to remember what was accomplished there. Let us say with the apostle Paul, “Far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Galatians 6:14).

The Public Reading of Scripture

In our study of worship, we left off considering the various parts or elements of worship. So far, we’ve looked at preaching, giving, and prayers. Next, let’s consider the public reading of Scripture.

I would argue that the most important reform of the Protestant Reformation was the return to the Bible as our sole authority. The reformers moved the table for the Lord’s Supper to the side of the sanctuary and placed the pulpit front and center, not to diminish the Supper, but to emphasize that the Bible and its preaching must come first. Without the Bible, without God speaking to us, we have no authority to practice the Lord’s Supper. We would not even know how to observe it. The same is true for all of worship and the entire Christian life. We must recognize the authority of Scripture and reflect that in all we do as the church.

This includes not only preaching but also the public reading of Scripture.

Listen to what the Apostle Paul tells Timothy in 1 Timothy 4:11–16:

Command and teach these things. Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity. Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophecy when the council of elders laid their hands on you. Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress. Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers. (1 Timothy 4:11–16)

Paul is addressing Timothy as a pastor, instructing him in his responsibilities. Among them is a devotion to the reading of Scripture in the church.

Not all translations make this as explicit. The King James Version reads, “Till I come, give attendance to reading,” which could suggest private reading or leave the object unspecified. But the Greek includes a definite article before “reading,” indicating something specific—“the reading.” Paul writes, “Devote yourself to the reading, to the exhortation, to the teaching.”

This parallels what we saw in Acts 2:42. The early church did not devote themselves merely to prayer in general, but to the prayers; not merely to teaching in general, but to the apostles’ teaching; not merely to fellowship in a vague sense, but to the fellowship and the breaking of bread. The definite article points to identifiable, established practices of the church. The same is true here with “the reading.”

When we consider the context, it becomes clear that Paul has Timothy’s public ministry of the Word in view. “The reading” is closely tied to “the exhortation” and “the teaching,” and the instructions concern Timothy’s conduct before the gathered church. This is both a public reading and a reading of Scripture. What else would Timothy read and teach from in the church’s corporate worship?

For this reason, modern translations are right to render the phrase as “the public reading of Scripture.”

Even so, it is not always obvious to churches that the reading of Scripture should be an essential part of worship. In some churches, the only Scripture reading occurs incidentally, as the pastor references verses during the sermon. I have even heard sermons in which the pastor never quoted Scripture once—only retelling or alluding to biblical stories without actually reading the text.

I once had a minister advise me never to read more than ten verses of Scripture at a time, arguing that people would lose interest. But that misses the point entirely. The one moment when the congregation can be certain that what they are hearing is true is when the Word of God is read. Everything else a pastor says must be tested against Scripture. God’s Word is sufficient, certain, and infallible. Men are not.

In the Old Testament, God’s Word was read publicly among his people. In Deuteronomy 31, Moses commands that the Law be read every seven years at the Feast of Booths so that all Israel—men, women, children, and sojourners—may hear and learn. In Joshua 8, Joshua reads “all the words of the law” before the entire assembly. In 2 Kings 23, King Josiah gathers the people and reads the Book of the Covenant, leading to national repentance. In Nehemiah 8, Ezra reads the Law from morning until midday while the Levites explain it so the people understand.

This pattern continues into the New Testament. When Jesus enters the synagogue in Nazareth, Luke writes,

As was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written— (Luke 4:16–17)

Likewise, in Acts 13:

On the Sabbath day, [Paul and Barnabas] went into the synagogue and sat down. After the reading from the Law and the Prophets, the rulers of the synagogue sent a message to them, saying, “Brothers, if you have any word of encouragement for the people, say it.” (Acts 13:14–15)

Paul’s own letters were also intended to be read publicly in the churches, which Peter refers to as Scripture (2 Peter 3). Paul tells the Colossians, “When this letter has been read among you, have it also read in the church of the Laodiceans” (Colossians 4:16). To the Thessalonians, he writes, “I put you under oath before the Lord to have this letter read to all the brothers” (1 Thessalonians 5:27).

Finally, Revelation 1:3 says, “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear.”

The Old Testament establishes the pattern of publicly reading God’s Word in worship, and the New Testament continues it. This should not surprise us. Worship is, at its heart, hearing from God and responding to him with praise.

The Congregation’s Amen

Speaking of praise, consider the next element of worship: the “Amen.” This touches on the congregation’s response in worship. Singing is certainly part of that response, but so is the spoken “Amen.”

You might ask, Is the saying of “Amen” really an essential part of worship? Before answering, consider this insight from Sam Waldron:

True worship in the church should be an expression of corporate unity. It is not Pastor Joe doing his thing in the morning worship and Pastor Sam doing his thing in the evening worship, and the only one who gets excited about the worship of God is the preacher and the leader of worship. That ought not to be. When visitors come into worship, they ought to be able to easily see that there is a whole multitude that agrees. The rebel should not leave thinking that he has a controversy only with the preacher. He should realize that he has a problem with the whole church. There should be expressed a corporate unity in the worship of God.

In other words, the congregation should respond to the prayers, preaching, and reading of Scripture in a way that clearly expresses agreement. When an unbeliever visits and disagrees with what he hears, he should recognize that his disagreement is not merely with the church’s leadership but with the entire congregation. Our unity in the truth ought to be evident.

Waldron adds, “Would the unbeliever look at you and say, ‘I don’t believe a thing they’re saying, but it is clear that they do. His whole soul is involved in this matter of worship.’”

There are, of course, other ways to express engagement and unity—singing, attentiveness, posture. But few responses are as clear and unmistakable as an audible “Amen.”

More importantly, what does Scripture say? Is this a biblical element of worship? The answer is yes, and it appears in a variety of contexts: following curses, praises, proclamations, benedictions, and doxologies.

In Deuteronomy 27, the Levites pronounce covenant curses, and the people respond, “Amen”:

“‘Cursed be the man who makes a carved or cast metal image, an abomination to the LORD, a thing made by the hands of a craftsman, and sets it up in secret.’ And all the people shall answer and say, ‘Amen.’
“‘Cursed be anyone who dishonors his father or his mother.’ And all the people shall say, ‘Amen.’
“‘Cursed be anyone who moves his neighbor’s landmark.’ And all the people shall say, ‘Amen.’ (Deuteronomy 27:15–17)

In 1 Chronicles 16, the people respond to praise: “Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting! Then all the people said, ‘Amen!’ and praised the LORD” (1 Chronicles 16:36).

In Nehemiah 8, after the Law is read and explained, “all the people answered, ‘Amen, Amen,’ lifting up their hands … and they bowed their heads and worshiped the LORD” (Nehemiah 8:5–6).

Amens also follow benedictions. Romans 15:33 reads, “May the God of peace be with you all. Amen.” While Paul may have written the “Amen,” these letters were read aloud in the churches, and the implication is that the congregation would respond in kind.

Even in heaven, the corporate response includes the amen. Following a doxology in Revelation 5:

I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying,

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”

And the four living creatures said, “Amen!” and the elders fell down and worshiped. (Revelation 5:13-14)

So the amen appears in Old Testament worship, in the worship of heaven, and in the life of the apostolic church. Consider also 1 Corinthians 14:16: “If you give thanks with your spirit, how can anyone in the position of an outsider say ‘Amen’ to your thanksgiving when he does not know what you are saying?”

Paul’s point is that worship must be intelligible and edifying. If someone cannot understand what is being said, he cannot affirm it. But notice how naturally Paul refers to the offering of an “Amen.” He assumes it as a normal, expected response, even from an outsider. This suggests it was a common and familiar practice in the early church.

There is an irony here. Some today view audible responses in worship as disruptive or disorderly, preferring complete silence from the congregation. Yet Paul, writing to correct disorder in Corinth, identifies a problem that actually prevents people from offering their amens. Clearly, he does not regard the amen as disorderly, but as a proper and meaningful expression of participation.

As one pastor has said, “If you can sit under the faithful preaching of the Word of God, and there is never an arising from the heart an amen to the truth of God’s Word, then you are not a Christian.” That speaks to the inward response, but he continues, saying,

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. I believe that we can do better. Don’t you want God to be praised? Don’t you want people to know that you worship and praise God? Don’t you want people to know that you love and believe the truth? Then, beloved, say the amen.

Singing in Worship

Next, consider the singing in our worship. If any element of worship has generated controversy in the church, it is this one. Should we use musical instruments? Should we sing hymns or only Scripture? Should there be choirs or a full band? What about traditional hymns versus contemporary music? The debate has been extensive.

In fact, in the latter part of the seventeenth century, the Particular Baptists in England even debated whether it was appropriate to sing at all in worship, which is a fitting place to begin. The regulative principle requires a biblical command, so do we have one? The answer is yes.

Jesus and his disciples conclude the Passover meal and the first Lord’s Supper with a hymn (Matthew 26:30).

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 14:15, “I will pray with my spirit, but I will pray with my mind also; I will sing praise with my spirit, but I will sing with my mind also.” Later in the same chapter, he adds, “When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up” (1 Corinthians 14:26).

Ephesians 5 says,

Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. (Ephesians 5:18–20)

Similarly, in Colossians 3:

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. (Colossians 3:16–17)

Finally, Revelation shows the saints in heaven singing: “And they sang a new song, saying, ‘Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God’” (Revelation 5:9).

Notably, they sing a new song, which suggests they are not limited to singing Scripture verbatim.

Today, few would question whether we should sing, but it is worth considering why we sing. These passages consistently connect singing with thanksgiving. We sing because we are thankful. More than that, our singing has two audiences: we sing to one another, and we sing to God.

In Ephesians 5:19, Paul says we are “addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs,” while also “singing and making melody to the Lord.” Colossians 3:16 says we are “admonishing one another … singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in [our] hearts to God.”

Thus, our singing both ministers to one another and directs praise and gratitude to God.

Because of this, the words we sing are crucial. Colossians teaches that our singing flows from the word of Christ dwelling richly within us. Paul says we admonish one another through singing “in all wisdom,” and in Ephesians, he describes it as addressing or teaching one another. The lyrics, therefore, must be true and biblical. They need not be Scripture quoted verbatim, but they should be clearly drawn from it.

This is why I once refused to sing “Precious Memories” in worship. Though included in the hymnbook, it is driven more by sentimentality than by biblical truth:

Precious mem’ries, how they linger,
How they ever flood my soul;
In the stillness of the midnight,
Precious, sacred scenes unfold.

What does that have to do with the truth of God? “Mary Had a Little Lamb” comes closer to a biblical hymn than that song.

The same concern applies to some modern songs. As a general rule, if a so-called worship song could be sung to a romantic partner without the person knowing it is actually about Christ, it likely lacks the doctrinal clarity needed for corporate worship. It does not communicate biblical truth effectively.

At the same time, there is value in variety. Paul speaks of “psalms and hymns and spiritual songs,” indicating distinctions among them. A psalm is a song of praise, usually sung with musical accompaniment. A hymn is a song with religious content, though not always framed as direct praise. A song is a broader category, which is why Paul specifies spiritual songs.

In 1 Corinthians 14, Paul also says, “When you come together, each one has a hymn” (1 Corinthians 14:26). Whether these were composed or selected, there appears to have been room for diversity in what was sung.

Still, the guiding principle remains that whatever we sing must be “in spirit and truth” (John 4:23). As Paul writes, “I will sing praise with my spirit, but I will sing with my mind also” (1 Corinthians 14:15). Our singing must be sincere, arising from the heart, and it must be governed by the truth of Scripture.

Elements and Circumstances in Worship

What about the other questions people often raise regarding singing—choirs, hymnals versus screens, musical instruments? Under the regulative principle of worship, how do we determine what is acceptable to God and what is not? We can agree that we must sing, since both command and pattern are clearly evident in the New Testament. But what about the details?

This brings us to the distinction between the elements of worship and the circumstances of worship.

The elements are those activities Scripture commands, either explicitly or implicitly. The circumstances are the details surrounding those elements for which Scripture gives no specific instruction. For example, we are commanded to gather for worship and are even given an implied day, but we are not told what time of day to meet. Should it be early morning, mid-morning, or afternoon? That is a circumstance of worship.

How, then, do we determine the circumstances?

The 1689 Baptist Confession is helpful here. In chapter one, paragraph six, it states that “the whole counsel of God concerning everything essential for His own glory and man’s salvation, faith, and life is either explicitly stated or by necessary inference contained in the Holy Scriptures.” It then adds:

We recognize that some circumstances concerning the worship of God and government of the church are common to human actions and organizations and are to be ordered by the light of nature and Christian wisdom, following the general rules of the Word, which must always be observed.

Scripture gives us everything we need either explicitly or by necessary inference. Yet some circumstances are left to be ordered by “the light of nature,” “Christian wisdom,” and “the general rules of the Word.”

The light of nature refers to basic human reasoning. For instance, we would not schedule a worship service at three in the morning, when people are typically asleep.

Christian wisdom builds on this by applying reason shaped by biblical understanding. The light of nature may suggest that 10:30 in the morning is a reasonable time to meet. Christian wisdom might further suggest gathering again in the evening, recognizing that Sunday is the Lord’s Day, not merely the Lord’s morning.

At the same time, we must remain sensible. We do not meet all day without pause. The light of nature reminds us that people need rest, families need time, and children need breaks.

Finally, we consider the general rules of the Word. Even when Scripture does not give direct commands, it provides guiding principles. Are we doing all things decently and in order? Are we edifying the body? Are we promoting reverence, peace, and unity? These questions help shape our decisions.

So while there is liberty and flexibility in the circumstances of worship, we must remain faithful to Scripture in all we do.

With that framework in place, let’s consider some of the common questions about singing.

Choirs

Should we have a choir?

On one hand, a choir is singing, and singing is commanded. But we must begin with a more basic question: who is commanded to sing? In Scripture, the command is always directed to the entire congregation, and the examples consistently show congregational singing. That is our baseline.

So we must ask whether choirs support or hinder congregational singing. While there may not be a definitive answer in every case, history gives reason for caution. Prior to the Reformation, congregational singing had largely disappeared, and worship became a spectator event in which the choir performed while the people listened.

This does not mean choirs are inherently wrong, but it does mean we should be careful about adopting practices that could diminish or replace an element God has clearly prescribed.

For that reason, it may be wise to keep such singing outside the formal worship service. That approach may seem cautious, but caution is appropriate when considering how we worship God. Our guiding question should not be, Can we do this? but rather, What does God want? If there is uncertainty, wisdom calls for careful consideration.

Hymnals, Screens, and Practical Matters

What about singing from a hymnal versus a screen, or even singing from memory?

Scripture gives no specific direction on these matters. They fall under the category of circumstances.

At times, people have drawn unnecessary lines. Some have objected even to musical notation, treating it as an unbiblical innovation. But such conclusions confuse preference or tradition with biblical principle.

What Scripture does emphasize is the content of what we sing. The words must be true, biblical, and edifying. Beyond that, practical considerations come into play. Is it helpful to have musical notation? Often it is. Is it useful to project lyrics for songs not found in a hymnal? That can also be beneficial.

In these cases, the question is not simply a matter of right or wrong. Often, there is no inherent wrong. Instead, we ask what is most helpful and edifying. As Paul writes, “‘All things are lawful,’ but not all things are helpful. ‘All things are lawful,’ but not all things build up” (1 Corinthians 10:23).

This is where Christian wisdom must be applied.

A Final Word

As we evaluate the circumstances of worship, we must distinguish between biblical requirements and personal preferences. There is liberty, but not full license. There is flexibility, but always within the bounds of Scripture.

And perhaps nowhere is this more evident than in the question of musical instruments, a subject that has generated considerable debate. But that is a discussion for next time.

I’ve been asked before whether I would rather preach at a funeral or at a wedding, and my answer often surprises people. If you ask me which one I would rather attend, hands down, I would choose a wedding. But believe it or not, I would rather preach at a funeral than at a wedding.

Why? At a wedding, people aren’t paying much attention to the preacher. It’s all about the happy couple. But at a funeral, people are far more inclined to listen. They want to hear what the preacher has to say. They hope for some word of encouragement. I may be exaggerating a bit, but at a wedding, I can feel somewhat like a placeholder.

As strange as it may seem, in Revelation 19, we have both a funeral and a wedding. It is clearly a time of celebration: “The marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready,” yet a large part of the celebration is because the great prostitute, Babylon, is now dead (Revelation 19:7, 2). We see smoke rising from her remains, prompting the twenty-four elders and the four living creatures to cry, “Amen. Hallelujah!” (Revelation 19:3, 4).

So this is both a funeral and a wedding, yet there is not the slightest hint of sorrow or grief. It is a scene of pure joy, because anyone with reason to mourn is no longer present. This moment marks a transition from the harlot of Babylon to the bride of Christ. It moves from the destruction of carnality and evil to the celebration of the righteous saints in heaven (Revelation 19:8).

If we were to imagine Revelation 18 and 19 as a movie, chapter 18 would be the dramatic climax, when the tension reaches its peak. The earth is made bright with the glory of an angel just before Babylon, with all her wickedness, is struck with death and mourning and famine and burned up with fire (Revelation 18:1, 8). Those who gained wealth from her stand far off in fear, weeping and mourning as they watch the smoke rise from their once-great city (Revelation 18:15, 18). They cry out, “In a single hour she has been laid waste” (Revelation 18:19).

As the scene unfolds, there is a tremendous amount of noise—people screaming, city walls collapsing. Then a mighty angel takes up the city and throws it into the sea. As it sinks, everything goes quiet (Revelation 18:21). Only faint ripples remain on the surface of the water.

A moment later, however, a faint roar begins to rise in the distance. The scene shifts upward, through the clouds, into heaven. Suddenly, a great multitude appears, singing and shouting:

“Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for his judgments are true and just; for he has judged the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her immorality, and has avenged on her the blood of his servants.” (Revelation 19:1-2)

“Hallelujah!” they cry, “Hallelujah!” (Rev 19:3, 6).

That is the scene unfolding in this part of Revelation, and we need to watch it play out before we attempt to examine its individual parts. It has been said that Revelation is a picture book, not a puzzle book. We are meant to absorb its drama and see the story. The details can be studied and better understood, but the story itself comes first. That is the nature of this kind of biblical literature. It is more like a movie than a textbook.

With that in mind, let’s work our way through Revelation 19.

A Great Multitude in Heaven

After the fall of Babylon, John “heard what seemed to be the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven” (Revelation 19:1). According to Revelation 7, this is “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (Revelation 7:9). People from all walks of life are represented here. Though that thought perplexed the Lord’s first disciples, God’s redemptive power has reached far beyond the borders of Israel. The gospel has found a home among every nation, tribe, people, and language.

Some, however, are puzzled by Revelation’s description of a great multitude in heaven (Revelation 19:1). How can there be a great multitude if the Bible elsewhere suggests that God’s redeemed people are relatively few? For example, Jesus said,

For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few. (Matthew 7:13-14)

Which is it? Are God’s people few or a great multitude? The answer is both.

At this very moment, there are billions of people on the planet. By one estimate, Protestant Christians alone number in the hundreds of millions. Even if we assume all of them are genuine believers, not accounting for those who have lived in the past or will live in the future, that is still an enormous number. It is certainly a great multitude. Yet, compared to the total population, it remains a relatively small percentage. Believers can be a minority in this world while still forming a vast multitude in heaven.

Regardless, there is a great multitude in heaven, and when John sees them following the collapse of Babylon, they are shouting, “Hallelujah!” (Revelation 19:1).

Hallelujah is one of the most universal words in the world. It is so significant that English Bibles do not translate it but simply carry it over from the original Hebrew. Many other languages do the same. The word is composed of two parts: hallel, meaning “praise,” and Yah, a shortened form of Yahweh, the covenant name of God. Hallelujah, then, means “Praise Yahweh,” or “Praise the Lord” (Revelation 19:1).

Interestingly, Revelation 19 is the only place in the New Testament where this word appears, and here it is used four times. In the Old Testament, it appears only in the Psalms, a total of twenty-four times. The final psalm ends with it: “Let everything that has breath praise the LORD! Praise the LORD!” (Psalm 150:6).

What we have in Revelation 19, then, is another hallel psalm, or a song of praise to the Lord. It is, in a sense, Psalm 151. Yet there is something that may strike us as unusual about this song. It praises God specifically for his judgment of the great prostitute, Babylon (Revelation 19:2). “Hallelujah! … For he has judged the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her immorality. … Hallelujah! The smoke from her goes up forever and ever” (Revelation 19:1–3).

We may not often sing about God’s final judgment, but it is a perfectly legitimate reason to praise him. This does not mean we take pleasure in the destruction of sinners. God himself says, “I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked” (Ezekiel 33:11). He would rather that the wicked turn from his way and live. But if the sinner refuses, justice will be accomplished, and the punishment will be appropriate. Sinners will be judged along with Babylon, to whom they gave their allegiance.

So while we are more inclined to praise God for his mercy and grace, as we should, it is no less appropriate to praise him for his justice.

Salvation Through Judgment

“Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for his judgments are true and just; for he has judged the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her immorality, and has avenged on her the blood of his servants.” “Hallelujah! The smoke from her goes up forever and ever.” (Revelation 19:1-3)

Notice the reasons the saints in heaven give for praising God. We have already considered the first: his justice will prevail.

Second, there is salvation (Revelation 19:1). Salvation cannot be accomplished apart from the destruction of wickedness.

Consider the flood in Noah’s day. Peter writes, “Eight persons were brought safely through water” (1 Peter 3:20). Some translations make the point even more explicit, saying Noah and his family were saved through or bythe floodwaters. They were not merely saved from the water by the ark; they were saved by the water. From what were they saved? Genesis tells us that “the LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually” (Genesis 6:5).

The flood saved Noah and his family from the rampant evil that had filled the world. God delivered them by removing that evil, physically and decisively.

That event gives us a glimpse of what he will do again at the end of time. He will take every last trace of wickedness and destroy it once and for all. Hallelujah. Praise God.

The older I get, the more I find myself meditating on a passage in Romans 8. The apostle Paul writes,

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:18-23)

I suspect many of us can relate to the kind of groaning Paul describes. Even on the best days, life is marked by frustration and decay. We grow tired. We fall sick. Small inconveniences pile up. Even moments of rest are not free from discomfort. And beyond our personal experience, we see a world filled with suffering—reports of believers enduring persecution, headlines marked by injustice, war, corruption, and violence.

It produces a longing, a desire to be free from this world in its present condition. We long to be free from tyranny, corruption, violence, persecution, injustice, materialism, unthankfulness, godlessness, suffering, sorrow, and death. We long to be free even from our own struggles with sin. Like Paul, we groan inwardly as we wait for the day when God will bring it all to an end (Romans 8:23). He will save us from it, not temporarily, but forever.

Babylon will fall because God will judge the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her immorality (Revelation 19:2). And the saints will cry, “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God” (Revelation 19:1). We will be free, and as the smoke from the harlot rises forever and ever, we will never forget what God has saved us from (Revelation 19:3).

Glory and Power Belong to Our God

The third reason the great multitude in heaven praises God is for his glory and power (Revelation 19:1).

In the Hebrew mind, glory conveys a sense of weightiness. God is not small or insignificant. He is not to be treated lightly. Yet those seduced by Babylon regard him as negligible—someone who can be ignored without consequence. They dismiss his power, if they acknowledge it at all.

The truth is that a day is coming when every knee will bow to God and every tongue will confess to him (Romans 14:11). The whole world will see his glory, recognize his undeniable weightiness, and behold his power. And when that day comes, the saints will cry with joy, “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God” (Revelation 19:1). Amen.

The saints, however, are not alone in their praise. “The twenty-four elders and the four living creatures fell down and worshiped God who was seated on the throne, saying, ‘Amen. Hallelujah!’” (Revelation 19:4). Even the angelic beings in heaven join in, affirming that his works are true and worthy of celebration.

Then a voice from the throne calls out, “Praise our God, all you his servants, you who fear him, small and great” (Revelation 19:5). Every God-fearing servant is summoned to worship—to turn away from Babylon and give glory to the one true God.

If the thought of celebrating the destruction of wickedness, and, consequently, the wicked, remains troubling, then fix your eyes on the God of our salvation (Revelation 19:1). Consider his glory. Consider his power. Aren’t his judgments true and just? (Revelation 19:2). Does not the great prostitute, who corrupted the earth with her immorality, deserve the judgment she received? Has not God avenged on her the blood of his servants?

She was an unrelenting temptress, intent on drawing the saints away from God. And when she could not entice them, she killed them. But the Lord has delivered his people. “The smoke from her goes up forever and ever” (Revelation 19:3). Her end is final.

From Funeral to Wedding

As we come to verse 6, the sound intensifies. John hears what seems to be “the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out” (Revelation 19:6). The focus of the scene begins to shift. The harlot of Babylon fades into the background as the bride of Christ comes into clearer view.

In other words, we have reached a transition in the text. The song of praise continues, but the vision moves from the destruction of Babylon to the wedding of Christ and his bride—that is, the church. We leave the funeral behind and enter the wedding.

And the multitude cries out,

“Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure.” (Revelation 19:6-8)

Now, to be clear, there has never been a moment when God was not reigning as the Almighty Lord. But this is the moment when the entire world sees it (Revelation 19:6). Today, as Psalm 2 describes, the nations rage and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord (Psalm 2:1–2). But in this moment, every such rebellion is brought to an end. As the psalmist says, “He who sits in the heavens laughs” (Psalm 2:4).

Once again, the church declares, “Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns” (Revelation 19:6). No one is higher. No one is more powerful.

We can see how the world continually attempts to create its own version of a utopia. People strive to build perfect societies, yet those efforts consistently fail. More often than not, they result in oppression and moral chaos. Babylon presents herself as having all the answers, as if she can offer hope and perfection. But something essential is missing: she denies God. A perfect kingdom cannot exist without God. It cannot exist without man’s submission to him. And it cannot exist where sin remains.

By this point in the vision, however, all of that is behind us. There are no more nations raging or plotting against the Lord (Psalm 2:1–2). No one is attempting to construct a perfect world on flawed foundations. As Paul writes, “When the perfect comes, the partial will pass away” (1 Corinthians 13:10). Here in Revelation 19, the perfect has come, and the saints respond, “Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory” (Revelation 19:7).

The saints have waited long for this moment. They have suffered, endured, and hoped. Now they have reached the consummation of all that God has been accomplishing from the beginning.

God promised this day soon after the fall into sin and continued to reveal it through the generations. In time, the promised Messiah came. We saw his life and ministry, his death and resurrection, and his ascension into heaven. And then came the waiting.

Even in the first century, some began to wonder if the promise would be fulfilled. Peter writes,

Do not overlook this one fact that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness” (2Pe 3:8-9).

He goes on to say,

The day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed.

Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God. (2 Peter 3:10-12)

We must not lose sight of the day of God.

There are times when the weight of the world feels overwhelming. The sin and godlessness of our culture, along with our own struggles, can produce anxiety, fear, and even anger. We may feel the urge to fix what is broken, to reclaim what has been lost, to build something better here and now.

But Christ redirects our gaze. He reminds us that our time here is brief. He reminds us that we were not redeemed to find satisfaction in a fallen world. We were redeemed for something far greater. As Paul writes,

For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. (Romans 8:22-24)

Our hope is not that humanity will finally succeed in building a utopia on earth. Our hope is in Christ, who says, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5). Only he can accomplish the perfect world that we long for.

The Marriage of the Lamb

The focus of the latter part of this passage is not merely on the perfect world to come. That is implied in the celebration over Babylon’s destruction, but the central focus is Christ himself and, more specifically, the church’s ultimate union with him.

“Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory” (Revelation 19:7). Why? “For the marriage of the Lamb has come.”

The Bible uses many analogies to describe salvation, but the imagery of a wedding conveys a uniquely deep level of intimacy. To be the Bride of the Lamb implies profound closeness (Revelation 19:7). Few relationships are as intimate as that between a husband and his wife.

Consider John 17. On the night of his arrest, just before his crucifixion, Jesus prays for his disciples and defines for us the essence of eternal life. Notably, he does not speak of mansions, streets of gold, or even a painless existence. Instead, he says,

“Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all flesh, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” (John 17:1-3)

According to Christ, the crowning joy of eternal life is to know him and his Father. This is not mere intellectual knowledge. It is more than understanding facts about God. Even the demons believe, and in many ways their theology is more accurate than ours (James 2:19).

Yet the demons do not enjoy a personal, intimate relationship with God. When Jesus speaks of knowing, he refers to a deep, personal knowledge, like that of a husband and wife (John 17:3). It is the kind of union that Scripture describes when it says, “Adam knew Eve his wife, and she conceived and bore Cain” (Genesis 4:1), and again, “Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and called his name Seth” (Genesis 4:25).

It is difficult to understand how someone can claim to be a Christian and yet have no desire to read the Bible, hear it preached, or grow in the knowledge of Christ.

“Do you want to go to heaven?”

“Of course.”

“Do you realize that the greatest feature of heaven will be our marriage to Christ?”

“Okay.”

“Then why is there no desire to cultivate that relationship now? Did you not pursue your spouse before marriage? Did you not want to learn everything you could about him or her?”

How can we say we long to be joined to Christ in heaven if we show little interest in knowing him now?

Think of Mary. Her desire to know Christ led Jesus to say, “Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42). While Martha was distracted with much serving, Mary devoted herself to the one thing necessary. She sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching (Luke 10:39–40). She wanted to hear every word he spoke.

Mary was devoted. She wanted to know Christ, to be near him, to understand what pleased him. She longed for closeness with her Savior.

I’m reminded of my own relationship with my wife. For much of our courtship, we lived hundreds of miles apart, and there were times when I felt a deep longing simply to be with her. I could hardly wait for the day when we would be married and no longer separated.

Paul expresses a similar longing at the end of his life:

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing. (2 Timothy 4:7-8)

Do we share that longing? Do we desire the day when we will be perfectly united with Christ, free from every hindrance, especially sin? And do our daily habits reflect that desire? I pray they do.

The Bride Made Ready

The saints and angels in heaven declare, “The marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure” (Revelation 19:7–8).

The true Bride of Christ will be ready (Revelation 19:7). As Jesus teaches in Matthew 25, she will be prepared for the Lord’s sudden appearing. Yet even this readiness is a gift; it was granted to her (Revelation 19:8). By his grace and purpose, God clothes his church with fine linen, bright and pure. And that fine linen is defined here as the righteous deeds of the saints.

We do not clothe ourselves. It is not our righteousness that justifies us. God himself grants the fine linen. He creates in us a clean heart, puts his Spirit within us, and works in us to do his will once we come to him in faith (Revelation 19:8).

Then the angel says to John, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb … These are the true words of God” (Revelation 19:9).

Overwhelmed by the vision, John falls at the angel’s feet to worship him. But the angel immediately corrects him: “You must not do that! I am a fellow servant with you and your brothers who hold to the testimony of Jesus. Worship God” (Revelation 19:10). Praise belongs to God alone.

Living in Anticipation

This scene in Revelation 19 has not yet come to pass. Babylon, with all her temptations and sufferings, has not yet fallen. The marriage of the Lamb has not yet come (Revelation 19:7).

That reality carries important implications. First, we are not yet celebrating Babylon’s fall. Instead, we are called to be ambassadors for Christ to those still deceived by her (2 Corinthians 5:20). We are to call them out and plead with them on behalf of Christ to be reconciled to God.

Second, we must be ready. Jesus makes this point in the parable of the ten virgins. Five were unprepared when the bridegroom came. They were not watching or anticipating his arrival, and they were shut out. They cried, “Lord, lord, open to us,” but he answered, “I do not know you” (Matthew 25:11–12). Jesus concludes, “Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (Matthew 25:13).

Paul echoes this longing: “There is laid up for me the crown of righteousness … which the Lord … will award … to all who have loved his appearing” (2 Timothy 4:8).

We may be Christians, but every part of us should be shaped by a sincere longing not merely to be betrothed to Christ, but to be finally united with him. Our affections for him should run deep. We should desire, above all else, to be with him.

That day has not yet come, but it will. May we live in eager anticipation of it.

If you are not joined to Christ by faith, do not wait. Come to him as Noah entered the ark. Seek him. Pray to him. Cry out, “Lord, save me, for I am a sinner.” He may return at any moment. Those outside of Christ will share Babylon’s fate, but those who are in Christ will be freed from the groanings of this fallen world forever.

Last time, we began to consider the parts or elements of worship. Acts 2:42 names four essential parts—preaching, giving, the Lord’s Supper, and prayers. I’ll now spend a little more time on some of these and add a few more to the list.

Before I do, however, it is helpful to address an obvious question. Proponents of the normative principle often accuse those who hold the regulative principle of inconsistency. Where, after all, does Scripture explicitly command us to follow the regulative principle of worship? Nowhere do Christ or the apostles say, “In worship, you must do only what God commands.” Does that mean we should abandon the regulative principle altogether?

At times, we have not helped ourselves in how we frame it. For example, the regulative principle is sometimes defined as, “What is commanded is right, and what is not commanded is wrong.” In the right context, that can be true, but stated on its own, it raises a fair question: where is the command for the regulative principle itself?

Explicit and Implicit Commands in Worship

To answer that, we need to recognize two types of commands in Scripture. First, there are explicit commands where the Lord says, “Do this” or “Do not do that.” Second, there are implicit commands. As Sam Waldron writes:

Those who believe in the regulative principle must also assume it was practiced in scriptural examples of proper worship. For us, then, a scriptural example or precedent of something being practiced as a part of New Testament worship would be sufficient to establish it as a required part of worship. This would constitute for us an implicit command, even though there was no explicit command or imperative in the passage where the example is found. Apostolic precedent for a part of worship is sufficient to establish something as a part of worship commanded by God. Such an example or precedent would then provide an implied command.

In other words, if we see the apostles approving of something in the church’s worship, even without a direct command, we may infer that it is right and good. This aligns with paragraph six of chapter one of the Baptist Confession:

The whole counsel of God concerning everything essential for His own glory and man’s salvation, faith, and life is either explicitly stated or by necessary inference contained in the Holy Scriptures. Nothing is ever to be added to the Scriptures, either by new revelation of the Spirit or by traditions of men.

With that in mind, consider a familiar example. The Old Testament explicitly commands the setting apart of one day in seven: “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy” (Exodus 20:8). The command identifies the seventh day as the Sabbath (Exodus 20:10). Yet we gather for worship on the first day of the week. Why?

If we search for an explicit command to worship on Sunday, we will not find one. What we do find is apostolic example and approval. In Acts 20, the church gathers on the first day of the week. In 1 Corinthians 16, Paul instructs the church to take up offerings on that same day. In Revelation 1, John refers to it as the Lord’s Day. The command, then, is implied. As the Confession states, it is contained in Scripture “by necessary inference.” As Waldron summarizes, apostolic precedent is sufficient; no explicit command is required.

At this point, proponents of the normative principle may raise a further question. If apostolic example opens the door beyond explicit commands, why stop there? Why not include other elements not forbidden by Scripture? For instance, why not incorporate a dramatic skit into corporate worship?

Here, the difference between the two principles becomes clearer. We have neither an explicit command nor an implicit command for such practices. There are no examples of the early church engaging in them, even though such forms of expression were available in their culture. The regulative principle, therefore, says, “No, we have no warrant for it.” The normative principle, however, says, “Yes, it is not forbidden.”

The contrast is ultimately one of posture. The regulative principle asks, “What does God want me to do? I need his approval before I proceed.” The normative principle says, “I will continue unless God stops me.”

We have a simple rule in our house: the furniture is to be used only as intended. The couch is for sitting or lying down. When I catch one of the kids jumping on it, I remind them of the rule. Inevitably, I will return to find them walking across it instead. “We’re not jumping,” they say. At that point, I can almost hear my granddaddy’s voice: “Keep it up, and you won’t be sitting for a while either.”

Setting aside the debate for a moment, Scripture, both Old and New Testaments, gives us every reason to approach the worship of our holy and almighty God with great care. Our first question should not be, What will God allow? but What does God want? For that, we look to Scripture for both explicit and implicit commands. What Scripture forbids provides necessary guardrails, but our aim is not to drive as close to the line as possible. Our aim is to stay in the center of the lane. In worship, the concern is not what we can get away with, but what God wants us to do.

Preaching as Central to Worship

With that, let’s return to the various parts of worship, beginning again with preaching.

Acts 2 tells us that the early church “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching” (Acts 2:42). We might also consider 1 Timothy 2, where Paul writes:

I desire then that in every place the men should pray, lifting holy hands without anger or quarreling; likewise also that women should adorn themselves in respectable apparel, with modesty and self-control, not with braided hair and gold or pearls or costly attire, but with what is proper for women who profess godliness—with good works. Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness. I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet. (1 Timothy 2:8-12)

At first glance, this may seem like an unusual passage to cite when discussing preaching. Yet Paul is describing what he expects of believers whenever they gather for formal worship. He says, “in every place,” that is, in every church (1 Timothy 2:8). And what does he emphasize? Setting aside his comments on apparel, he highlights two essential activities: praying and teaching.

Evidently, Paul regards both as indispensable. That stands in contrast to how many churches approach worship today. For some, worship is primarily music and singing. Prayer may be included, but often as a brief transition. Preaching, meanwhile, is sometimes treated as an afterthought. I once watched a service in which the pastor, after the music, said the singing had been so powerful that he did not feel it necessary to preach at all, as though preaching might detract from what had already taken place.

Last week, several people mentioned churches that begin with a sermon and follow it with singing. The reasoning is that singing becomes a response to the Word that has just been preached. I have done this myself. Initially, my motives were not entirely pure. I hoped it might discourage habitual lateness from many of our members. But what I found was that the singing often felt richer and more meaningful after the sermon. We have likely experienced that in our own churches as well when we sing a final hymn following the message.

Why does that happen? Because when the truth of Scripture is clearly proclaimed, when God speaks to us through his Word, we are given something substantial to respond to. We are reminded of God’s holiness, his grace, his promises, and his work in Christ. And hearing those things naturally stirs us to praise. God speaks through his Word, and we respond in song.

It should not surprise us, then, that preaching holds a central place in worship. Through preaching, we hear from God. Martin Luther once said, “The highest form of worship is the preaching of God’s Word.”

In Feed My Sheep, Albert Mohler writes, “What do we think preaching is but the central act of Christian worship? … that is when the God of whom we have been speaking and singing speaks to us from His eternal and perfect Word.”

This is why Paul exhorts Timothy so strongly:

I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry. (2 Timothy 4:1-5)

Preaching, then, is not optional. It is essential to the church’s worship of God. And to be clear, preaching is not a dramatic performance. It is not an exercise in entertainment or stagecraft. It is a man, devoted to the study of Scripture, carefully and faithfully explaining and proclaiming God’s Word to the church.

Before moving on, it is worth considering the role of the congregation. At the beginning of Isaiah 66, the Lord says:

Thus says the LORD: “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool; what is the house that you would build for me, and what is the place of my rest? All these things my hand has made, and so all these things came to be, declares the LORD. But this is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word. “He who slaughters an ox is like one who kills a man; he who sacrifices a lamb, like one who breaks a dog’s neck; he who presents a grain offering, like one who offers pig’s blood; he who makes a memorial offering of frankincense, like one who blesses an idol.” (Isaiah 66:1-3)

The context is worship. And whom does God regard? “The one to whom I will look … he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word.” More than outward acts of sacrifice, God desires a people who receive his Word with humility and reverence.

Accordingly, the congregation’s role in preaching is not passive. It is to listen attentively, to take what is preached seriously, and to submit to it, so far as it is truly the Word of God.

Giving as an Element of Worship

Next, let’s consider our offerings in worship, or what Acts 2:42 refers to as “the fellowship.”

As noted previously, this term can refer broadly to fellowship or partnership, but it is often used in the New Testament to describe contributing or sharing. Even in Acts 2, the context supports this meaning: “All who believed were together and had all things in common … and they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need” (Acts 2:44–45). The word common comes from the same root as fellowship.

This raises an important question: Is financial giving truly an element of corporate worship? Few would deny that giving is good and necessary, but is it properly considered an act of worship?

Acts 2 suggests that it is. Alongside the apostles’ teaching, the breaking of bread, and the prayers, the early church devoted themselves to these practices when they gathered. Paul reinforces this in 1 Corinthians 16: “On the first day of every week, each of you is to put something aside and store it up, as he may prosper” (1 Corinthians 16:2). When the church assembled for worship on the Lord’s Day, they were to take up a collection so that no additional gathering would be required later.

Acts 4 provides further insight:

Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common. And with great power the apostles were giving their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. (Acts 4:32-35)

Several observations follow. First, their giving flowed from their unity. Being “of one heart and soul,” they shared their resources freely. Second, their giving occurred alongside the apostles’ preaching. As the apostles bore witness to the resurrection, the people brought their offerings. This appears to have been part of their corporate worship. Third, the giving was public. They laid the proceeds at the apostles’ feet, indicating a visible, communal act. Though deacons would later be appointed to oversee distribution, giving itself remained a feature of the church’s gathered life.

This should not surprise us when we consider the Old Testament. Offerings have long been associated with worship. Cain and Abel brought offerings to the Lord. After the flood, Noah offered sacrifices. The Lord commanded Israel, “None shall appear before me empty-handed” (Exodus 23:15), and again, “Every man shall give as he is able, according to the blessing of the LORD your God” (Deuteronomy 16:17). The psalmist likewise exhorts, “Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name; bring an offering, and come into his courts!” (Psalm 96:8).

While the nature of offerings changed under the new covenant, the New Testament is no less insistent on giving. If anything, it deepens the motivation. Paul appeals to the gospel itself:

I say this not as a command, but to prove by the earnestness of others that your love also is genuine. For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich. (2 Corinthians 8:14-15)

When we gather to worship the Savior who was rich yet became poor for us, it is fitting that we give generously to meet the needs of others.

This leads to a practical question. If giving is an element of worship, why do some churches not take up a collection during the service? Like many churches, your church may place collection boxes outside the sanctuary rather than passing a plate. Should we reconsider that?

A reasonable case can be made that we should. In How Then Should We Worship?, Sam Waldron argues that if giving is an appointed part of corporate worship, it should not be hidden away. He writes,

If giving is an appointed part of corporate worship, then it is not sufficient to relegate it to an inconspicuous basket… What if we treated prayer, singing, or preaching in the same way?

At the same time, Waldron acknowledges his own past hesitation, concerned that such practices might improperly elevate money. While the early church appears to have given publicly, there may be wisdom in being sensitive to those who feel uneasy about it.

Jesus teaches in Matthew 6:

Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them … when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. (Matthew 6:1, 3-4)

Jesus does not forbid public giving altogether, just as he does not forbid public prayer. Rather, he warns against hypocrisy—performing acts of righteousness for the sake of being seen. Even so, concerns about pressure are not unfounded. Paul reminds us, “Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion” (2 Corinthians 9:7).

Because Scripture does not prescribe a specific method for collecting offerings, we have liberty in how we handle the circumstances. What must remain clear, however, is that giving itself is not peripheral. It is a meaningful and fitting expression of our worship before God.

Prayer in Corporate Worship

Next, let’s consider prayer.

Again, 1 Timothy 2:8 says, “I desire then that in every place [or every church] the men should pray, lifting holy hands.” Earlier in the chapter, Paul writes:

First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. (1 Timothy 2:1-4)

Within the context of formal gatherings, specifically worship, Paul calls for prayer. He assigns this responsibility, in the gathered assembly, to qualified men. This does not mean women cannot pray in other settings or even in the presence of men, but in corporate worship, God has given men the role of leadership, which includes both teaching and leading in prayer.

Paul also mentions posture, referring to men “lifting holy hands.” This should not be taken as a universal requirement. Scripture presents a variety of postures in prayer. Abraham and the tax collector stand; Daniel kneels; Paul kneels with others; David falls to the ground; Jesus falls on his face in Gethsemane. Elsewhere, hands are lifted, heads are bowed, eyes are lifted, or one sits before the Lord.

There is no single prescribed physical posture for prayer. This falls within the realm of Christian liberty. Some kneel, others stand; some lift their hands, others fold them; some close their eyes, others keep them open. Scripture does not bind the body to one form. What it clearly addresses is the posture of the heart.

Paul says that men should pray with “holy hands without anger or quarreling” (1 Timothy 2:8). Here, “holy” refers to purity. The one who leads in prayer should not come harboring sin. As Psalm 66 says, “If I had cherished iniquity in my heart, the Lord would not have listened. But truly God has listened; he has attended to the voice of my prayer” (Psalm 66:18-19).

This does not mean we must be sinless before we pray. The psalmist speaks of cherishing sin. Paul’s concern is that those who pray be repentant and sincere before God. At the same time, they must be at peace with others. Prayer in corporate worship is offered on behalf of a unified body, so the one who leads must not be marked by anger or division.

Notably, Paul does not restrict these prayers to pastors alone. They are to be led by men, but not exclusively by ordained ministers.

In A Better Way, Michael Horton observes, “One of the most disappointing features of contemporary worship is the absence of prayer.” Kent Hughes makes a similar point, writing, “Today, it is not uncommon for there to be no pastoral/congregational prayer … It seems that prayer is regarded as something that interferes with the movement of worship.”

Scripture presents a very different picture. Prayer is essential to corporate worship. In Acts 4, it is after the church prays together that “the place in which they were gathered … was shaken” and they are filled with boldness (Acts 4:31).

Likewise, in Ephesians 6, Paul connects prayer directly to spiritual warfare:

Take … the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak. (Ephesians 6:17-20)

What, then, should characterize our corporate prayers? We might summarize them this way:

• Invocation—seeking God’s help as we begin.

• Confession of sin.

• Thanksgiving for his provision.

• Petition for our needs.

• Intercession for others.

• Illumination for the reading and preaching of Scripture.

• Benediction—a word of blessing.

Not every prayer must include all of these elements, but together they reflect the breadth of biblical prayer in corporate worship.

Even so, prayer is not a matter of following a checklist. What matters most is that we come with prepared hearts, praying sincerely and with faith. As Samuel Miller writes,

When the heart is engaged and in proportion, that is, deeply and warmly engaged; when the value of spiritual things is cordially felt, and the attainment of them earnestly desired; when the soul has a heartache sense of its own unworthiness and a humble, tender confidence in the Savior’s love and grace —in a word, when the whole soul is prepared to flow out in accordance with the language uttered in faith, love, gratitude, and heavenly desire—then and only then will every petition, word, and tone be, in some good degree, in happy keeping with the nature and scope of the exercise.

Next time, we will complete our consideration of the parts of worship and begin to look at the circumstances of worship.

Money, wealth, and material prosperity are neither inherently good nor inherently bad. If gained and used wisely, wealth is a very good thing. If gained and used foolishly, wealth can be devastating.

On the one hand, the Bible teaches that wealth can be a tremendous blessing from God. Proverbs often speaks of riches as gifts that accompany wisdom and diligence. Yet wealth can also deceive us. It can quietly take hold of our hearts and lead us away from the path of life into destruction. The process is usually so gradual that we hardly notice. Prosperity begins to give us the illusion of security and independence, and if we are not careful, we start trusting in our wealth more than we trust in the Lord. This temptation only grows stronger as our prosperity increases.

I remember visiting a small country church years ago. When you walked into the building, the foyer smelled strongly of rotten eggs, almost enough to make you gag. One sip from the drinking fountain did make me gag. Evidently, their water had a high level of sulfur.

What surprised me, however, was watching other people drink from the fountain without any trouble. They didn’t gag or wince. They took a sip and kept going, as if nothing were wrong. I didn’t hear anyone say a word about the taste or the smell.

After the service, I mentioned it to one of their deacons. I said, “You must have a sulfur problem.” He looked at me as if he had no idea what I was talking about. So I explained that I noticed the smell in the foyer and could taste it in the water. He replied, “Oh, that. It’s been like that for a long time. I don’t even notice anymore.”

That is precisely what had happened in the church of Laodicea. We might call it spiritual apathy. They had grown so comfortable in their material prosperity that they no longer realized how far they had drifted spiritually. On the outside, they appeared stable and successful. They thought everything was fine. But when Christ examined the church, he saw something very different.

Let’s consider what he says to them.

The Words of the Amen

Christ captures our attention from the start by declaring his identity: “These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of God’s creation” (Revelation 3:14).

First, what does Jesus mean when he refers to himself as “the Amen”? There is far more to that word than meets the eye. It is not merely the traditional way to end a prayer. It is a word rich with meaning. In the book of Isaiah, Yahweh is called “the God of truth” (Isaiah 65:16). Literally, the phrase is “the God of Amen.”

God is the source of truth. He is the embodiment of truth. He is truth. When Governor Pilate rhetorically asked, “What is truth?” the answer is God. People spend their entire lives searching for meaning and truth. They debate philosophies, write books, and make movies about this search, yet the question remains: “What is truth?”

The answer is God. If we are to understand truth, the search begins and ends with the Alpha and the Omega, the Almighty God, the beginning and the end of all things, and certainly truth.

The Jews of the first century understood this about God, which made some of Jesus’ claims about himself shocking. For instance, he once declared that he is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). He claimed to be the truth in the same way the Jews understood God to be the truth. So it is no small thing for Jesus to refer to himself as “the Amen.”

What is he saying by this? Consider how often Jesus began his statements with the words “Truly, truly.” He would say, “Truly, truly, I say to you” (John 3:3; 5:24). In other words, “What I am about to say is absolute truth.” He was not offering an opinion or speaking as a man prone to error. He was declaring the truth of God.

That is essentially what we mean when we say “Amen.” We are affirming the truth. We are saying, “That is God’s truth. That is the absolute truth.” When we “amen” a preacher, we are saying, “Yes, brother, that is truth. You have spoken rightly.”

Jesus is the affirmation of all that is true. He confirms it. He validates it. He is the final word, and that word is truth. Jesus is the validation of everything God has ever said and done. Therefore, he is also “the faithful and true witness” (Revelation 3:14). For a time, he was God’s witness on earth; now he is God’s witness in heaven.

Lastly, Christ identifies himself as “the beginning of God’s creation” (Revelation 3:14). This statement should not confuse us. Jesus is not suggesting that he was created by God. We know this because he inspired John, the same apostle who wrote the book of Revelation, to write these words in the opening of his Gospel:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. (John 1:1–3)

Jesus, the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us, is co-eternal with God the Father. The doctrine of the Trinity may not receive as much attention today as it once did, but it remains vital. It is a foundational truth of the Christian faith. As John reminds us, “All things were made through him” (John 1:3).

In other words, all of God’s creation began with Christ. It was through him that all things were made.

We could take this concept further and consider Christ’s role in salvation. Paul writes, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17). If you are in Christ, you are a new creation.

We could extend it even further and speak of Christ’s role in the consummation of all things. When we think about the end times, we look forward to a new heaven and a new earth, a new creation. We anticipate something beyond what we currently experience. And who makes that new creation possible? Jesus.

Before leaving this earth, he told his disciples, “I go and prepare a place for you” (John 14:3). In every sense, Jesus stands at the beginning of God’s creation. All things were created through him, and all things will be renewed through him.

That is someone worth listening to.

Neither Hot nor Cold

Now that he has their attention, Jesus says, “I know your works” (Revelation 3:15). In other words, “I know what you’ve done. I know what you haven’t done. I even know the motivations behind what you’ve done or haven’t done.” When we think of works, we typically think only of what we do, or perhaps what we fail to do. But Jesus implies more than that. “The Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). He sees far deeper than we can see.

A lifetime of good works means nothing if the heart is far from God. Paul said of Israel, “They have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge” (Romans 10:2). Jesus himself said, “In vain do they worship me” (Matthew 15:9). Yes, they worship him, but in vain.

So when Jesus refers to the works of the Laodiceans, he has in mind the totality of their faith and service—all of their works, all of their motivations, everything, not merely what they do or fail to do. He sees it all, and he knows that, in the case of the Laodiceans, “they are neither cold nor hot” (Revelation 3:15).

Every book of the Bible has historical context, and that is an important reminder here. All Scripture is breathed out by God, but he did not inspire the books of the Bible in a vacuum. He breathed out these sixty-six books through the personalities, experiences, and circumstances of the human authors, and he also addressed the circumstances of the original recipients.

In short, someone wrote each book to someone else for some reason. There is always historical context, and understanding that context helps us understand the message. That is especially true when we read Christ’s words to the church in Laodicea.

When we hear the phrase “hot or cold,” we often think of passion versus indifference, or perhaps good versus evil. But that cannot be what Jesus means. Notice what he says next: “Would that you were either cold or hot” (Revelation 3:15). In other words, “I want you to be cold or hot, but not lukewarm.”

If “hot” means passionate, then we would have to conclude that Jesus would rather we lack passion altogether than be only partially passionate. If “hot and cold” represent good and evil, then we would have to conclude that he would prefer us to be evil rather than somewhat good. That cannot be the meaning of the text.

The historical setting helps us understand his point. The city of Laodicea was not blessed with a good natural water supply. So the people built underground aqueducts to bring water from neighboring cities. Hot water was piped in from one location and used for medicinal purposes, while cold water was brought from another location and used for drinking.

The problem was that the water had to travel miles, sometimes six or ten miles, depending on the source. By the time the hot water arrived from the springs at Hierapolis or the cold water from the springs at Colossae, it had become lukewarm. Worse still, the pipes accumulated calcium deposits that could clog the system or contaminate the water. In many cases, the water became so unpleasant that it would actually induce vomiting.

In this context, both hot and cold water were good things. Each served a purpose. Hot water could be used for healing. Cold water provided refreshment. But the Laodiceans knew well that contaminated, lukewarm water was good for nothing. It was disgusting and could make a person sick.

In that sense, the church should be both hot and cold. We should be a source of refreshment, like a cold drink of water on a hot day. We should also be a source of healing. The issue here is not temperature, but distance from the source.

Jesus says, “Because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth” (Revelation 3:16). Lukewarmness leads to rejection. If you take a drink of that calcified, lukewarm water, you cannot help but spit it out or even vomit. You cannot stomach it. Neither can Jesus.

Put simply, hot is good, cold is good, but lukewarm is bad. Jesus is not presenting two opposite extremes from which we must choose. Both hot and cold are good for different purposes. On a hot day, we want a cold drink of water. When making coffee, tea, or taking a shower, we want hot water. Both are good, but each serves a different purpose.

When Jesus compares the spiritual condition of the Laodiceans to lukewarm water, he is not saying they are somewhere between good and bad. Rather, the problem is their distance from the source, which determines their usefulness.

As we continue, that point will become even clearer.

The Danger of Self-Reliance

There is something else we should know about the church in Laodicea: the city itself was extremely wealthy. It was a prosperous place. In AD 60, for example, a devastating earthquake struck the region. The Roman Empire offered financial assistance to help the affected cities rebuild. Laodicea declined the offer. They essentially said, “No, we don’t need your money.” They truly didn’t need it. They had the financial means to rebuild the city themselves.

With that background in mind, notice what Jesus says: “For you say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing’” (Revelation 3:17). That is the problem.

We do not know all the ways this lukewarmness manifested itself in the Laodicean church. Jesus says, “I know your works,” but he does not describe them. He does not provide details about what they were doing or failing to do. For all we know, they may have appeared to be doing everything right on the surface. But something was wrong beneath the surface. Perhaps their motivations were off. Perhaps something essential was missing that could not easily be seen.

What we do know is that the root of the problem was self-reliance. Is self-reliance really a problem? In this context, the answer is absolutely yes. Jesus says to them, “For you say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing,’ not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked” (Revelation 3:17).

The trouble with self-reliance is that it is often accompanied by self-deception. We think we are self-sufficient when, in reality, we are in desperate need of help. The Laodiceans were rich and prosperous, so prosperous that they had come to believe they did not need anything from anyone, including God.

There is an irony here. They boldly say, “I don’t need anything. We’re fine. No outside help for us.” Yet the city itself lacked the most fundamental resource for survival: a reliable water supply. They had to pipe water in from other places. Still, they proudly claimed, “We need nothing.”

Imagine a similar scenario. You are out on a lake in a rusty old rowboat. It is not much to look at, but it floats. As you row along, you see a man treading water in the middle of the lake, miles from shore. He has no boat and no life preserver. So you call out, “Sir! Climb aboard!”

Instead of accepting the offer, he laughs and says, “I don’t need your help. Do you know I own a yacht worth half a million dollars? Why would I need your lousy rowboat?”

So you ask, “Where is your yacht?”

He replies, “It’s at the bottom of the lake. It sank just before you got here.”

It may sound like a silly illustration, but it is not far from the truth of where the Laodiceans stood. Self-reliance and self-deception often go hand in hand. They believed they were rich enough that they did not need anything. They were self-reliant to the point that they felt no need for outside help, even though they lacked one of the most essential necessities of life.

So Jesus’ response is entirely appropriate: “You are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. And you don’t even realize it” (Revelation 3:17).

To be clear, this message to the Laodiceans is not really about water. The real issue is that these people had become more reliant on themselves than on Christ. They should have been a source of healing and refreshment, but they were not. Why? Because they had become too far removed from the true source of healing and refreshment—Jesus Christ.

Just as they were distant from the source of their water, they had become distant from the source of everything good and necessary.

By now, it should be clear that the problem here is not merely a lack of passion or zeal, as we often think of lukewarmness. The problem runs much deeper. In many respects, they shared the spirit of the Pharisees, who rejected God’s Messiah because they did not believe they needed a Savior.

The Pharisees believed they were righteous enough to merit God’s favor. But the situation in Laodicea is even more troubling. These people had evidently accepted Christ. They belonged to a Christian church. Yet they had become so self-reliant that they lost their dependence on Christ.

The Subtle Danger of Earthly Security

Jesus says,

I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see. (Revelation 3:18)

I’ve already mentioned the Laodiceans’ wealth, but there were a couple of other things the city was well known for at the time. Laodicea had a thriving textile industry. They produced high-quality wool fabric that was exported widely, and they were especially famous for their black wool. The city was also known for training physicians who specialized in eye care.

The Laodiceans were rich, yet Jesus says, “I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire so that you may be rich.” In other words, he denies their claim to wealth. They produced beautiful black wool, yet Jesus says, “You need white garments from me so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen.” The Laodiceans had a reputation for eye care, yet Jesus says, “You need my salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see.”

Christ is chipping away at every last thing that gave this church a false sense of security. He addresses every source of confidence that caused them to drift away from the only true source of security—himself.

I don’t know exactly how this problem manifested itself in the Laodicean church. I don’t know what it looked like on the outside. My suspicion is that it was very subtle. Notice that Jesus does not condemn them for blatant sins, unlike his rebukes of other churches. He does not accuse them of tolerating heretics or false doctrines.

At the same time, he does not commend them for anything. He has no positive word to say about this church. That likely means the problem is not only subtle but deadly serious. There is no time for niceties. Jesus goes straight to the issue, not the symptoms, but the root problem.

“You have great material wealth, but you’re poor. You have some of the finest garments, but you’re naked. You have salve that can heal the eyes, but you’re blind” (Revelation 3:17–18). Everything in which they placed their trust was, in reality, worthless.

Have you considered that these things could be gone tomorrow? All of them could be taken away in an instant. Where would your faith be then?

Do you remember the parable of the sower? Jesus says, “As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful” (Matthew 13:22).

Material wealth is hardly fertile ground for the Word of God. The Bible repeats this warning again and again.

To be clear, Scripture never outright denounces wealth. But contrary to what prosperity preachers claim—that if only we are faithful enough, we will all be healthy and wealthy—the Bible repeatedly warns us about the dangers that come with wealth. The more comfortable we become, the more complacent we become. The more we have, the more we trust in what we have. The more we rely on what we possess.

Once we have lived comfortably long enough, we begin to lose sight of the fact that all these material things, our wealth and possessions, are fleeting. They are temporary. They are corruptible. They can all be lost. Worse yet, our dependency on God and his grace can slowly fade along the way.

“The deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful” (Matthew 13:22).

Just as you cannot become a Christian without surrendering any notion of self-reliance and throwing yourself entirely on the mercy of God, you cannot continue to walk with God if you lose your dependency on him and begin to trust in yourself and in your material comforts instead.

Do you see how relevant this letter is to first-world Christians?

Is it a blessing or a curse to be rich? Is it a blessing or a curse to have nice clothing? Is it a blessing or a curse to have access to the greatest medical care the world has ever known?

The answer is not black and white.

Personally, I believe these things are blessings, but they can quickly become a curse if we are not careful.

Paul offers helpful perspective in 1 Corinthians 7:

From now on, let those who have wives live as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing, and those who buy as though they had no goods, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away. (1 Corinthians 7:29–31)

Paul is addressing more than material goods in that passage, but the principle is helpful. He is not suggesting we deny reality. If you are married, you are married. If you are mourning, you are mourning. He is not telling us to ignore those realities. Rather, he calls us to hold whatever we have in this world loosely, because it will not last forever. We cannot keep it forever.

The problem is not that we are rich. The problem arises when we care too much about our riches, invest too much in them, or let them stand in the way of our dependence on Christ.

Also, remember this problem is subtle. The thorns do not choke out the word overnight. But the danger is real. This warning is for us. It is a very real and extremely dangerous issue.

Loving Reproof and Discipline

Jesus says, “Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent” (Revelation 3:19).

What if Christ were to stand in our own church on Sunday and say to us what he said to the Laodiceans? Would we think his words were too harsh?

We shouldn’t, because he speaks out of love. “Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline.” That is the language of sonship. Like a father speaking to his children, Jesus corrects the Laodicean church as his children.

Hebrews 12 reminds us, “God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons” (Hebrews 12:7–8). Christ speaks harshly to the Laodiceans because he loves them. He disciplines those he loves.

A couple of years ago, a woman asked me to preach at her grandmother’s funeral. She said, “I have a lot of unbelievers in my family, so I would like you to preach hellfire and brimstone if you think it’s necessary.” I was taken aback because most people tell me to avoid that kind of thing, especially at a funeral.

So I asked her, “Why hellfire and brimstone?” I appreciated her answer.

She said, “Because I love my family that much. If you have to step on their toes before they’ll turn to Christ, you step as hard as you think is necessary.”

It hurts to hear that we are wretched, poor, pitiable, blind, and naked. Those words sting, and it is often difficult to say them to someone else. Yet sometimes that is the most loving thing to say. Love demands truth always, even when the truth is difficult.

Christ Outside the Door

Next, Jesus says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me” (Revelation 3:20).

“Behold” is a word in Scripture that calls us to brace ourselves. It often introduces something surprising, and this revelation is particularly jarring. Jesus says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”

Perhaps we have heard this verse so many times that it no longer seems shocking, but consider the context. Jesus is speaking to a Christian church that meets every week in his name. He is speaking to a church that regularly gathers around a table to share the Lord’s Supper.

Have you ever had the feeling that you have forgotten something? It often happens when you leave the house and get in the car. You cannot quite identify it, but something is missing. Imagine sitting down with your church to share the Lord’s Supper. The hymnbooks are there, the Bibles are open, the pastor is present, the bread and wine are on the table. Then you hear a knock at the door. Everyone looks around and says, “Who could that be? Isn’t everyone here? Don’t we have everything we need?” And that is when you realize someone is missing.

Christ. Christ is not there.

That is what makes this revelation so shocking. “Behold,” Jesus says, “I’m not in the church.” Without realizing it, they had slowly pushed him out the door. He is standing outside. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”

It brings to mind the Jewish practice of “unsynagoguing” someone—banishing them from the synagogue. Jesus himself was “unsynagogued” in places like Nazareth during his ministry. Without realizing it, the Laodiceans had effectively “unchurched” Jesus. They were meeting together in his name to worship him, yet according to Christ, he was not there. He was standing outside, waiting for someone to open the door.

It raises a sobering question. How many churches in this nation of prosperity, wealth, and material comfort are still meeting week after week in the name of Christ, claiming to worship Christ, while he stands outside the door? They are too comfortable to notice. He is knocking, but they do not hear. They are too self-satisfied to realize that he is missing.

Do you see the subtlety? More importantly, do you see the danger?

Paul writes, “Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you? Unless indeed you fail to meet the test” (2 Corinthians 13:5).

Jesus then says, “The one who conquers, I will grant him to sit with me on my throne, as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne” (Revelation 3:21).

That is a remarkable promise. Those who persevere in faith—those who turn from self-reliance and cling to Christ—will share in his victory and his kingdom. Just as Christ overcame and now reigns with the Father, so those who belong to him will one day share in his reign.

Some may hear this passage and recognize something of themselves in it. Life may appear stable and comfortable on the outside. You may even attend church regularly. But comfort plus religion can easily create the illusion that everything is fine between God and us when, in reality, Christ is not truly the Lord of your life.

That was the tragedy of the Laodiceans. They believed they needed nothing, yet Jesus said they were “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked” (Revelation 3:17). They possessed everything the world values while lacking the one thing they truly needed.

Only Christ can give us what we lack. He alone provides the riches, righteousness, and spiritual sight we cannot obtain for ourselves. If you recognize that you have been relying on yourself rather than on Christ, hear his invitation. Turn from that self-reliance and come to him in repentance and faith. He gives freely what we cannot provide for ourselves—namely, salvation from our sins.

I will leave you with his words: “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches” (Revelation 3:22).

Having attempted to lay a foundation and provide evidence for the regulative principle of worship, we now need to move on to its more practical aspects. To do that well, however, we must first clearly define what we mean by worship. Not everything in the life of the church, or in the life of individual Christians, is regulated by the regulative principle.

You may remember what Mark Driscoll once said when arguing against the regulative principle. He suggested it made little sense to follow the regulative principle for one hour a week while following the normative principle for the rest of life. He said,

Why is it that we live by the normative green-light principle until we get to church, and then we have to live by the regulative red-light principle just for an hour a week as if there’s not a blur in between the lines? We also have other church gatherings, meetings, Wednesday night classes, community groups. Do they count red light, green light? The whole thing gets very confusing.

We have already established that the church must worship according to the regulative principle, despite Driscoll’s confusion on the matter. But he does raise an important question. What about other church gatherings? What if the church meets for a Bible study? What if the women gather for a craft night or the men for a game night? What about Sunday school?

I grew up in a church that was very strict about the regulative principle. If there was no positive command for something in Scripture, they refused to do it. On that basis, they were adamantly opposed to Sunday schools. For a long time, they also opposed corporate Bible studies. Their rationale was that they did not see these things commanded in Scripture.

Are they applying the regulative principle correctly? More importantly, what about us? Are we following the regulative principle when we meet together for Bible studies or Sunday school?

The key is to distinguish carefully between formal worship and other kinds of gatherings.

For example, a church picnic is not the same thing as our corporate worship on Sunday morning. Yet no one would suggest it is wrong for the church to gather for a picnic. Sunday school is not the same thing as corporate worship, either. Is there something wrong with an elder teaching the Bible outside of his Sunday morning sermons? Of course not. Is there something wrong with older, mature members of the church teaching children within the church?

While the primary responsibility of teaching children lies with their parents, Scripture does show a broader pattern of instruction within the body. Titus 2 instructs older members to teach younger members. Colossians 3 shows that believers should teach and admonish one another. Even the Great Commission reveals that the entire church is to be involved in teaching people to observe all that Christ has commanded. Jesus himself was not a parent, yet he welcomed and taught children.

What about craft nights or game nights? There is nothing inherently wrong with them. But we must maintain a clear distinction between those gatherings and the church’s formal worship.

When we read through the book of Ecclesiastes, the first imperative does not appear until chapter five, where we are told, “Guard your steps when you go to the house of God” (Ecclesiastes 5:1). Notice that a distinction is made between entering into worship and the rest of life.

Of course, there is a sense in which we should guard our steps at all times. We want to conduct ourselves according to God’s will in every area of life. Yet Scripture places special emphasis on guarding our steps when we approach God in worship. It is then that we must be especially careful about how we conduct ourselves.

Formal, corporate worship is not the same as the rest of life, and not all gatherings of the church are the same as corporate worship. Formal worship is distinct.

This is why the worship services in my church have a clear beginning and end. We often begin with a statement such as, “Now let us go to God in worship,” or with a prayer that serves the same purpose. Sometimes we are encouraged to take a moment of silent prayer to prepare our hearts. You will also notice that this moment always comes after announcements have been made. Announcements are not part of worship, so we create a clear break between those announcements and the worship that follows.

Likewise, we conclude our worship with a benediction or closing prayer. This helps show that our worship has a definite beginning and end. The worship itself is distinct from the rest of life and from the church’s other activities.

There are times that are uniquely holy. Certainly, there is a sense in which we can worship God at any time and anywhere. I have a set of books at home called Every Moment Holy, which includes prayers and liturgies for all of life. I once taught a Sunday school series on “everyday theology.” I even made the point that you can worship God while doing dishes or washing windows.

But that kind of worship is not the same as the worship we offer corporately as the church. Our corporate worship on the Lord’s Day is uniquely holy.

Think of Moses approaching the burning bush in Exodus 3. As Moses drew near, God said, “Take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground” (Exodus 3:5). When the church gathers for formal worship, we are standing on holy ground, if you will.

“Guard your steps,” Solomon says. “Take your sandals off your feet,” God says. In other words, the gathered church’s formal worship is special. It is not like everything else. It is not even like other church gatherings. In our formal worship, marked by a clear beginning and end, we come into the special presence of Christ, and the special presence of Christ is with us.

For this reason, Hebrews 12 says, “Let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe” (Hebrews 12:28).

The Parts of Worship

The question now becomes: what is acceptable worship? To answer that, we must make another important distinction—this time between the parts and the circumstances of worship. We will begin with the parts, or elements, of worship.

Consider the very beginning of the church in Acts 2. In one sense, the church existed prior to this, but we might say it was the church in utero. In Acts 2, we see the church fully formed, fully born. And what do we find the church doing?

On the day of Pentecost, Peter preaches to thousands. There is an outpouring of the Spirit, and many respond positively to what they have heard and seen. Then, we read,

So those who received [Peter’s] word were baptized, and there were added that day about three thousand souls.

And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved. (Acts 2:41–47)

This passage provides an insightful description of the early church. While we do not have direct commands here, we do have teaching through example. Moreover, the practices mentioned in this passage are reinforced elsewhere in the New Testament.

For apostolic teaching, we might look to passages such as 1 Timothy 2 or 1 Corinthians 14. For fellowship and sharing, we could consider 1 Corinthians 16. For the breaking of bread, 1 Corinthians 11. For prayers, again 1 Timothy 2. As we continue through the New Testament, it becomes clear that this example in Acts reflects the practices the church is meant to continue.

At the same time, we must recognize the time and setting of this passage. This is the very beginning of the church under the new covenant—a transitional period between the old and the new covenants. Not everything here applies directly to us in the same way. For example, we read that “many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles” (Acts 2:43). We no longer have apostles performing signs and wonders in the church because those were tied to a unique period in redemptive history. Likewise, the believers were still attending worship in the temple, which we no longer do since the church itself is now the temple of God.

So not everything here is directly applicable. Yet the rest of the New Testament clarifies which elements remain binding for the church.

Notice that Acts 2:42 identifies four specific acts of worship:

1. The apostles’ teaching

2. The fellowship

3. The breaking of bread

4. The prayers

Pay careful attention to the wording. The text does not say teaching, fellowship, breaking of bread, prayers. Rather, it says the teaching, the fellowship, the breaking of bread, the prayers. Luke is referring to specific corporate acts of the church in worship, not general activities, but identifiable elements of gathered worship.

There is another detail here that is easy to miss. In most English translations, these four elements are arranged in two pairs. Teaching and fellowship are grouped together, and the breaking of bread and prayers form a second pair. There is no conjunction between fellowship and the breaking of bread.

Sam Waldron illustrates this structure helpfully:

Suppose a young person had lunch at someone’s house. Later, his mom asked what he had to eat, and he said, “We had sandwiches: peanut butter and jelly; bacon, lettuce, and tomato.” You would not mean—and your mother would know that you did not mean—that you had one awful sandwich composed of peanut butter, jelly, bacon, lettuce, and tomato. No, she would assume from the construction of your sentence that you had two kinds of sandwiches.

That appears to be the structure in Acts 2:42 as well. The early church’s worship seems to fall into two divisions.

Nick Needham, in the first volume of 2,000 Years of Christ’s Power, describes a similar distinction in early Christian worship. He refers to what he calls the “service of the Word” and the “service of the upper room.” He writes,

An important point … is that the service of worship was divided into two distinct parts. The first part, known as “the service of the Word” (singing, reading, sermon), was opened to baptized believers, those who were receiving instruction in the Christian faith, and probably those who were curious about Christianity. The second part, the prayers and … (the Lord’s Supper), was only for those who had been baptized; the rest had to leave.

Needham is not specifically commenting on Acts 2:42. He is describing the pattern of worship in the early church based on historical evidence. Yet his description closely resembles what we see in this passage, especially when we notice the grammatical pairing.

In other words, some elements of worship were accessible to a broader audience. Others were reserved for the gathered body of believers. Worship, after all, is not the same thing as evangelism. Worship is primarily for those who are reconciled to God, members of the body of Christ. While evangelism may occur during worship, it is not the central purpose of worship.

Many churches today follow a seeker-friendly model in which worship services are intentionally designed to appeal to unbelievers. But historically, this was not the norm. In many times and places, believers could not even meet publicly due to persecution. They gathered privately, sometimes secretly, and there was nothing wrong with that. Worship is one thing; evangelism is another. Worship takes place within the body of Christ, while evangelism primarily occurs as the church goes out into the world. We gather for worship, and we scatter to disciple the nations.

There may also be another explanation for the pairing in Acts 2:42. The first pair, teaching and fellowship, points to the church’s formation. The apostles’ teaching shapes the church doctrinally, while fellowship expresses the shared life created by that truth. Teaching forms belief, and fellowship expresses the unity that belief produces.

The second pair, the breaking of bread and the prayers, consists of acts directed toward God by the unified body that has been formed and instructed by the Word.

The Apostles’ Teaching

Let us now consider the four components of worship in Acts 2:42, beginning with the apostles’ teaching.

This is the teaching of God’s Word.

Prior to the Reformation, the medieval church largely neglected the apostles’ teaching in worship because it had largely neglected the authority of Scripture. But when the Reformation took place, the teaching of God’s Word was restored to a central place in worship. In fact, many of the Reformers moved the table for the Lord’s Supper to the side of the sanctuary and replaced it with the pulpit at the center of the church. John Calvin even placed a large copy of the Bible at the center of his church in Geneva.

The Catholics objected strongly to this. Because they believed Christ was physically present in the elements of the Lord’s Supper, the bread and the wine, they saw the Reformers as demoting Christ and replacing him with a book.

Why did the Reformers make this change? For one thing, they did not believe Christ was physically present in the bread and cup. The elements symbolized Christ, but he was not physically present in them. More importantly, however, they believed in the authority of Scripture.

Why should the Bible be the focal point of the church rather than the Lord’s Supper? Because before the church can even share in the Lord’s Supper, we need the Word of God to direct us. First, Scripture must tell us toobserve the Lord’s Supper. Second, it must tell us how to observe it. Everything the church does begins with the authority of Scripture.

Sadly, the apostles’ teaching has taken a back seat in many churches today. Visit many evangelical churches, and you will find an intentional distinction being made between worship and preaching. Worship, in their minds, consists of singing and praying, while the sermon is treated as something separate.

For that reason, I sometimes hesitate even to use the label “worship leader” for the person leading the singing and prayers. That language can suggest that preaching is not part of worship. But there should be no such distinction. Preaching is not separate from worship.

We see this in the early church. We see it throughout church history. We see it again in the Protestant Reformation. Preaching is not merely a part of worship, and it certainly is not something distinct from worship. It is central to the church’s worship.

Sam Waldron writes,

Pride of place in this listing of the elements or parts of the church’s worship is given to the public ministry of the Word. Of course, it is clear that the apostles’ teaching was not the only thing, but it is equally clear that it was the first thing. The first thing in worship and the first priority in church life is the church’s doctrine and teaching. Nothing else can make up for deficiencies in this area.

He continues,

Music and singing are important. Let no one misunderstand. Congregational singing of the Word is an appointed part of worship. The circumstances of our singing must be handled in such a way as to best serve the people of the church. It is important how and what we sing, but in this passage, isn’t it amazing (given the priorities of today’s church) that music and singing are not even mentioned? This says something very penetrating about the misplaced priorities of today’s church.

To his point, I once went through the book of Acts and counted how many times we see believers preaching, praying, and singing. Not all of those instances occur in the context of corporate worship, but the comparison is still revealing. Preaching appears roughly twenty-one times. Prayer appears about twenty times. Singing appears only once when Paul and Silas were in prison in Acts 16.

Yet many churches today prioritize singing over preaching, sometimes even to the neglect of preaching. The pattern of Scripture, however, makes it clear that the preaching of the Word should stand at the center of the church’s worship.

The Fellowship

Next, we have the fellowship.

Interestingly, the Greek word translated as “fellowship” here refers to sharing or having something in common. Often, it carries the idea of contributing something to someone else. To see this more clearly, it helps to notice how the word is used elsewhere in the New Testament.

In Romans 15:26, Paul writes, “For Macedonia and Achaia have been pleased to make some contribution for the poor among the saints at Jerusalem.” The same word appears here, translated as “contribution.”

In 2 Corinthians 9:13, Paul says, “By their approval of this service, they will glorify God because of your submission that comes from your confession of the gospel of Christ, and the generosity of your contribution for them and for all others.”

Hebrews 13:16 adds, “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” In this case, the word is translated as “share.”

Share, contribution— These are the most common ways this word is rendered. We see similar usage in Romans 12:13, Galatians 6:6, Philippians 4:15, and 1 Timothy 6:18.

From the same root word, we also get the word common. “And all who believed were together and had all things in common” (Acts 2:44).

For that reason, verse 42 is probably not referring merely to fellowship in the general sense of enjoying one another’s company. It appears to describe something more tangible—a specific act within the church’s worship.

According to John Calvin, this refers to “alms, and … other duties of brotherly fellowship,” such as financial giving.

Sam Waldron likewise observes:

The sharing or giving of the early Christians is described as laying their gifts at the apostles’ feet in a public setting. [See Acts chapter 4.] This laying of their gifts at the apostles’ feet appears to picture a formal or at least a public setting in which these gifts were brought, and it is difficult to exclude from such a picture the public worship of the church.

Paul also gives explicit instructions about this practice in 1 Corinthians 16:

Now concerning the collection for the saints: as I directed the churches of Galatia, so you also are to do. On the first day of every week [that is, the day of their corporate worship], each of you is to put something aside and store it up, as he may prosper, so that there will be no collecting when I come. (1 Corinthians 16:1–2)

Here, Paul gives a positive command for the church to bring financial offerings on the day of worship. This suggests that the early church understood this sharing (or fellowship) as an act of worship.

At the same time, the concept likely extends beyond financial giving alone. Giving money is certainly included, but the word may also point more broadly to the giving of ourselves to one another. As members of one body, we should be willing to give ourselves for the good of the whole. Nothing should be allowed to disrupt the unity or fellowship of the church.

Jesus addresses this principle in Matthew 5, saying,

If you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift. (Matthew 5:23–24)

In other words, worship involves giving, both the giving of our material resources and the giving of ourselves for the unity and good of the body. Yet the specific act of worship named in Acts 2:42 most likely refers to the church’s financial giving.

The Breaking of Bread

Next, we have the breaking of bread.

Again, this refers to a very specific act of the church in worship. The text does not say breaking of bread in a general sense; it says the breaking of bread. I believe the New Testament consistently uses this phrase to describe the Lord’s Supper.

On the night that Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper with his disciples, we are told, “Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is my body’” (Matthew 26:26).

Later, in 1 Corinthians 10, Paul refers to the Lord’s Supper as “the bread that we break” (1 Corinthians 10:16). He says essentially the same thing again in chapter 11. For that reason, the breaking of bread is not merely an ordinary meal. The early church may have shared a meal before or alongside the Lord’s Supper, but the phrase itself refers specifically to the Lord’s Supper.

Nowhere in Scripture are we told exactly how often the church must observe the Lord’s Supper. Some argue that it should be practiced less frequently so that it does not become routine or stale in our minds. Yet the language of Acts 2:42 suggests that it may have been practiced quite regularly. It appears alongside the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, and prayers as something to which the church “devoted themselves.” In other words, these were practices they pursued earnestly and consistently.

It is possible that the early church observed the Lord’s Supper every week. We cannot say with certainty. But if anything, the passage’s emphasis would caution us against minimizing it. There is no biblical rule about how often we must observe it, but there is every reason to treat it as a regular and cherished practice.

Jonathan Edwards beautifully described the purpose of the Lord’s Supper when he wrote,

We ought carefully and with the utmost seriousness and consideration attend the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper: this was appointed for this end, to draw forth longings of our souls toward Jesus Christ. Here are the glorious objects of spiritual desire by visible signs represented to our view. We have Christ evidently set forth crucified…. Here we have that spiritual meat and drink represented and offered to excite our hunger and thirst; here we have all that spiritual feast represented which God has provided for poor souls; and here we may hope in some measure to have our longing souls satisfied in this world by the gracious communications of the Spirit of God.

The Prayers

Finally, we have the prayers.

In some translations, you will not find the definite article the before the word prayers. However, the definite article is present in the original Greek. Once again, this suggests that the text is not referring to prayer in general but to the prayers offered in the church’s formal worship.

We see this emphasis elsewhere in the New Testament. In 1 Timothy 2:8, Paul writes, “I desire then that in every place [that is, in every church] the men should pray, lifting holy hands.” In that context, Paul is referring specifically to the prayers offered in the church’s corporate worship.

It is worth noting that the primary emphasis in that verse is not merely that men should pray, though that is clearly stated, but that prayer itself must be present in the church’s gathered worship. In other words, the prayers are an essential and integral part of corporate worship.

Worship in Spirit and Truth

These four elements—the apostles’ teaching, the fellowship, the breaking of bread, and the prayers—provide a baseline for the parts of corporate worship. Of course, there are additional elements we have not yet discussed, such as singing and the public reading of Scripture. Nor have we addressed how these elements should be carried out—the so-called circumstances of worship.

For now, however, I want to briefly address an essential aspect of worship that is less tangible than the others.

Even when we follow the regulative principle of worship—doing only what God explicitly commands—our worship could still be missing something vital. Recall what Jesus said in John 4:

The hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth. (John 4:23–24)

He also told the Jewish leaders in Matthew 15, quoting Isaiah, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me” (Matthew 15:8–9).

In their case, the traditions of men had corrupted their worship. They were not even keeping God’s commandments. But even if we are careful to worship according to the truth of God’s Word, even if we follow the right forms, our worship may still fall short.

Following rules is not the same thing as offering true worship.

My five-year-old son has developed a habit of groaning whenever we ask him to do something he does not want to do. He will obey, but while he is doing it, he lets out this long, reluctant “Uhh.” You can probably see the problem.

According to Christ, our worship, even when it is done in truth, according to the Word of God, is only as good as our hearts. We must worship in truth and in spirit. Our hearts must not be far from God.

These two things must remain in balance. Both are absolutely necessary, and we must not emphasize one to the neglect of the other.

Some churches, for example, focus heavily on producing emotional experiences. They use lighting, smoke machines, and every available technique to create an atmosphere where people will feel something. Not long ago, I read an article by a Christian pastor who attended a Taylor Swift concert with his daughter. I was frankly astonished by what he wrote. He described the experience in almost spiritual terms. Halfway through the article, you might have thought he had ascended a mountain to meet with God like Moses. And why was he writing about it? He was suggesting that the church could learn something about worship from a Taylor Swift concert.

Given that kind of thinking, it is not surprising that the worship in some churches now resembles a concert more than the worship we read about in the early church.

Why do churches pursue this approach? They may offer various justifications, but often the goal is to manufacture an emotional experience. They want people to feel something. And perhaps we should feel something. But is that what Jesus means when he says we must worship in spirit?

I would argue that it is not.

Jesus is describing the posture of the heart. True worship engages the heart. The heart is sincere, reverent, humble before God. It is willing, cheerful, and serious about offering spiritual sacrifices to him, and it delights to do so.

Many passages reflect this principle. Psalm 51:16–17 says,

For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it;
you will not be pleased with a burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

Hebrews 13:16 adds, “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”

Second Corinthians 9:7 says, “Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.”

Psalm 141:2 says,

Let my prayer be counted as incense before you,
and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice!

And Psalm 27:6 says,

I will offer in his tent sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the LORD.

The examples are many. Feelings may be involved in worship, but emotional experience itself is not the priority.

As Sam Waldron puts it, “Don’t let anyone tell you that if you have the (divinely appointed) parts, you don’t need the heart! On the other hand, don’t let anyone tell you that if you have the heart, you don’t need the parts!”

Last time, we looked at two biblical principles that serve as a foundation for the regulative principle of worship. The regulative principle says we ought to do only what God commands when we worship. By contrast, the normative principle says we are permitted to do whatever we want in worship so long as Scripture does not forbid it.

The two biblical principles that support the regulative principle are:

1. A holy church

2. The authority and sufficiency of Scripture

By a holy church, I mean the church is a people set apart by God for God. We are to be distinct from the rest of the world in many ways, but nowhere more so than when we gather for corporate worship. Our worship of God is the most important and distinctive thing we do as the church. And as we saw in both the Old and New Testaments, God shows great concern for how his people worship him. Indeed, he regulates how his people are to worship.

When we combine the principle of a holy church with our belief in the authority and sufficiency of Scripture, it follows that we should be careful to worship God only as he directs. When God’s set-apart people do the most important thing they are called to do, it only makes sense that they would submit to the authority of Scripture. More than that, we trust that God’s Word provides everything we need to worship him “in spirit and truth” (John 4:23).

If those two principles are not enough to persuade us of the regulative principle of worship, Ligon Duncan offers several more in his book Does God Care How We Worship? In fact, he names eleven. I would like to consider each of them, at least briefly.

The Nature of God

Duncan begins with the nature of God. As he writes, “God’s own nature—who God is—determines how we should worship him.”

Previously, I cited Deuteronomy 4, but let me return to a portion of that passage. It helps us understand why God gave the second commandment: “You shall not make for yourself a carved image” (Exodus 20:4). The Lord says,

Therefore watch yourselves very carefully. Since you saw no form on the day that the LORD spoke to you at Horeb out of the midst of the fire, beware lest you act corruptly by making a carved image for yourselves, in the form of any figure, the likeness of male or female, the likeness of any animal that is on the earth, the likeness of any winged bird that flies in the air, the likeness of anything that creeps on the ground, the likeness of any fish that is in the water under the earth. And beware lest you raise your eyes to heaven, and when you see the sun and the moon and the stars, all the host of heaven, you be drawn away and bow down to them and serve them, things that the LORD your God has allotted to all the peoples under the whole heaven. (Deuteronomy 4:15–19)

Why does God forbid the creation of physical images of him? Throughout church history, especially during debates over icons and images, many have argued that such images help worship by providing something tangible to look at. So why does God prohibit them?

The answer appears in the passage itself: “Since you saw no form on the day that the LORD spoke to you at Horeb out of the midst of the fire, beware lest you act corruptly by making a carved image for yourselves” (Deuteronomy 4:15–16). The Israelites were not to make an image of God because they had not seen God. And why had they not seen him?

Jesus provides the answer in John 4 when he tells the Samaritan woman, “God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4:24). Whatever it means to worship in spirit and truth, Jesus grounds the requirement in the nature of God himself. God is spirit. Therefore, his worship must be spiritual.

The same reasoning appears in Deuteronomy 4. Because of who God is, the Israelites did not see him. And because they did not see him, they were forbidden from creating a carved image of him. In John 4, we worship in spirit and truth because of who God is. God is Spirit; therefore, we must worship him in spirit.

We can take this a step further. The way we worship God inevitably shapes our understanding of him. Our worship reflects his character. When we worship according to what he has revealed, we reflect that character rightly. But when we worship according to our own ideas and preferences, we obscure it. This is why the second commandment exists. If you create an image of God and incorporate it into worship, it will inevitably change the way you see him, and not for the better.

You might say that the medium becomes the message.

Neil Postman makes a similar observation in his 1985 book Amusing Ourselves to Death. His argument is that television changes the message it carries, whether news, religion, or entertainment, by turning everything into a form of amusement. But how does the shift from printed words to televised images alter the message? In a real sense, the medium itself shapes what is being communicated.

Postman writes,

In studying the Bible as a young man, I found intimations of the idea that forms of media favor particular kinds of content and therefore are capable of taking command of a culture. I refer specifically to the Decalogue, the second commandment of which prohibits the Israelites from making concrete images of anything [as a representation of God]. “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water beneath the earth.” I wondered then, as so many others have, as to why the God of these people would have included instructions on how they were to symbolize, or not symbolize, their experience [of him]. It is a strange injunction to include as part of an ethical system unless its author assumed a connection between forms of human communication and the quality of a culture. We may hazard a guess that people who are being asked to embrace an abstract, universal deity would be rendered unfit to do so by the habit of drawing pictures, or making statues, or depicting their ideas [of him] in any concrete, iconographic forms. The God of the Jews was to exist in the Word and through the Word, an unprecedented conception requiring the highest order of abstract thinking. [Icons] thus became blasphemy so that a new kind of God could enter a culture. People like ourselves who are in the process of converting their culture from word-centered to image-centered might profit by reflecting on this Mosaic injunction.

As far as I know, Postman was not a Christian, but his insight is perceptive. He recognizes that a God who is “unchangeable, immense, eternal, incomprehensible, almighty,” to borrow the language of the 1689 Confession, cannot be reduced to a picture or a statue. Attempting to do so inevitably reshapes how we think about him.

For the Israelites in Moses’ day, this was a radical approach to worship. The false gods of Canaan and Egypt were represented by idols—visible, tangible objects. But the true and living God declared, in effect, “I have not revealed my appearance to you, so you are not permitted to create anything in my supposed likeness.” As Postman puts it, “The God of the Jews was to exist in the Word and through the Word,” a concept requiring the highest order of abstract thinking, which makes sense, given that our God is incomprehensible.

Ligon Duncan summarizes the implication well:

The how of worship is vital to our growth in grace and in the knowledge of the one true God, because it contributes to our grasp of the one true God. Often we hear, and agree with, the dictum that “we become like what we worship,” but the Reformed understanding of worship teaches us that it is also true that “we become like how we worship.”

The medium may not be the whole message, but it certainly shapes it. God, therefore, reveals how he is to be worshiped so that our worship reflects his nature. If we worship in other ways, according to our own inventions, we inevitably obscure who he is.

The Creator–Creature Distinction

Duncan’s second reason for the regulative principle is the Creator–creature distinction.

Psalm 100:3 says, “Know that the LORD, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.” Likewise, Numbers 23:19 declares plainly, “God is not a man … or a son of man.”

Scripture repeatedly emphasizes the vast difference between God and those he has made. Consider Isaiah’s vision in Isaiah 6:

In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said:

“Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!”

And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke. And I said: “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” (Isaiah 6:1–5)

The distinction between the Creator and his creatures could hardly be more vivid. The whole earth is filled with God’s glory, while Isaiah, a mere man, trembles in his presence.

We see this distinction throughout Scripture. The 1689 Confession expresses it this way: “The distance between God and these creatures is so great that they could never have attained the reward of life except by God’s voluntary condescension.”

Now consider what this means for worship. In Isaiah, the Lord says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8–9).

There is an immeasurable gulf between the Creator and his creatures. Given that reality, how reasonable is it to suppose that we, the creatures, can determine for ourselves how we should worship the Creator?

Yet this is precisely what happens under the normative principle. When the church adopts the normative principle, the creatures assume the right to go beyond what the Creator has revealed about how he is to be worshiped. But that is a remarkable presumption. How can we acknowledge the Creator–creature distinction while at the same time suggesting that God’s Word is not sufficient to direct our worship of him?

Revelation

Third on Duncan’s list is the nature of revelation and knowledge. He writes:

As revelation is the divine foundation of human knowledge of salvation, so also is revelation the divine foundation of our worship of God, which is itself, when properly understood, a response to revelation. And if worship is to be a right response to revelation, then it must be revelationally directed.

What he means is that there are certain things we can know about God through general revelation. For example, we can know that God exists simply by looking at creation. As Psalm 19 says, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork” (Psalm 19:1). But general revelation is not sufficient to tell us how we may be saved. For that, we need special revelation.

According to Romans 1, general revelation is only enough to leave us without excuse. Paul writes:

For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. (Romans 1:19–20)

General revelation, then, goes only so far. When we look at the stars or the trees, creation tells us that God exists and that he is powerful, but it does not tell us how we may be saved. God must reveal that explicitly, which he has done through his Word.

Think of Abraham. Abraham may have known that there was a God, but he would not have known to leave his homeland for the land of Canaan unless God had spoken to him directly. The Baptist Confession makes this same point:

The light of nature and the works of creation and providence so clearly demonstrate the goodness, wisdom, and power of God that people are left without excuse; however, these demonstrations are not sufficient to give the knowledge of God and his will that is necessary for salvation.

Duncan’s argument is that the same principle applies to worship. General revelation may tell us that there is a God who ought to be worshiped, but it does not tell us how he is to be worshiped. For that, we need special revelation.

This is evident in the case of the Gentiles Paul describes in Romans 1:

For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things. (Romans 1:21–23)

They instinctively knew there was a God to be worshiped. But apart from special revelation, they did not know how to worship him rightly. So they invented their own forms of worship, which ultimately led to idolatry.

We must rely on God’s special revelation to know how he is to be worshiped. Unless he reveals it, we have no assurance that what we offer to him is appropriate worship.

It is also important to remember that worship involves a kind of dialogue between God and his people. God speaks, and we respond. God reveals how he is to be worshiped, and we answer accordingly. He declares, in effect, “Here is the sacrifice I require,” and we offer that very sacrifice—nothing more and nothing less.

The Second Commandment

Fourth, Duncan points us back to the second commandment. We have already discussed this, but the second commandment establishes the regulative principle of worship within the enduring moral law.

Why is it part of the moral law rather than the ceremonial law? Because it reflects God’s unchanging character. God does not permit us to worship him in ways other than those he has revealed, precisely because what he reveals about worship flows from who he is.

And because this commandment belongs to the abiding moral law, its principle continues into the New Testament. Paul commends the Thessalonians by saying, “Your faith in God has gone forth everywhere, so that we need not say anything. For they themselves report … how you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God” (1 Thessalonians 1:8–9).

It is easy to reduce the second commandment to a prohibition about what or whom we worship, but the commandment also addresses how we worship. This becomes clear when we read Deuteronomy 4 or when we consider the Israelites forming the golden calf in the wilderness to worship the God who delivered them from Egypt.

Not only must we avoid worshiping false gods, but we must also avoid worshiping the true God in false ways.

The Nature of Faith

Next, Duncan urges us to consider the nature of faith. This is what John Owen called “the argument from faith.” Duncan writes, “Since faith is essential to true worship, the conditions of worship must accord with the exercise of true faith.”

Scripture is clear that nothing we do is pleasing to God apart from faith. Hebrews 11:6 says, “Without faith it is impossible to please [God].” And Paul writes in Romans 14:23, “Whatever is not from faith is sin.”

But what is faith? At its core, faith is trusting what God has revealed. If that is true, then worship that goes beyond God’s revelation cannot be an act of faith. To worship apart from what God has revealed would, by definition, be unfaithful.

The Baptist Confession speaks clearly about the nature of faith in chapter fourteen:

By this faith, Christians believe to be true everything revealed in the Word, recognizing it as the authority of God himself. They also perceive that the Word is more excellent than every other writing and everything else in the world, because it displays the glory of God in his attributes, the excellence of Christ in his nature and offices, and the power and fullness of the Holy Spirit in his activities and operations.

What God reveals to us displays his glory. By faith, we recognize his revelation as true and authoritative. And if that is so, then whatever he reveals about how we should worship him will also display his glory. By faith, we trust what he has revealed and receive it as our authority for worship.

The Doctrine of Carefulness

Sixth, Duncan points to what he calls the doctrine of carefulness. He writes,

The Bible makes it exceedingly clear that we ought to be careful in worship. Our God is a consuming fire and not to be trifled with. The severity of the punishments inflicted upon those who, from time to time, offer to God, apparently in good faith, unprescribed worship catches our attention: the stories of Nadab and Abihu and their “strange fire” and of Uzzah and David and the ark.

Of course, some will argue that these examples come from a time when the ceremonial law was still in force. And that is true. But we should remember what Paul says about the Old Testament. Writing to the Romans, he says, “For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction” (Romans 15:4).

So while the specific regulations of the ceremonial law are no longer binding, the warnings they contain still instruct us. These accounts remind us that we must think carefully about how we approach God in worship.

We remain a people created to worship God, and that responsibility alone should make us cautious about how we do it. Jesus himself said, speaking of new covenant worship, “True worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him” (John 4:23).

Good intentions, by themselves, are not enough. True worship requires more than sincerity. It requires submission to the authority of God’s Word and a willingness to neglect no part of it.

The Church’s Derivative Authority

Seventh, Duncan points to the church’s derivative authority. In other words, whatever authority the church possesses is derived from Christ. The church is not in a position to establish its own laws and norms.

In Matthew 28, Jesus says,

All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. (Matthew 28:18–20)

The church’s task is therefore clear. We declare the word of Christ and uphold the word of Christ, but we do not have the authority to add to it, subtract from it, or alter it in any way.

The Scottish theologian James Bannerman said, “The Church is given no authority to require obedience to its own commands, and it is given no authority to require participation in ordinances of its own making.”

When it comes to worship, then, the church is not free to invent something new. That level of authority does not belong to us. Our authority is subordinate to Christ’s authority. He gives the commands, and we obey them and teach others to do the same.

The Doctrine of Christian Freedom

Eighth, Duncan urges us to consider the doctrine of Christian freedom. At first, it may seem unusual to appeal to liberty of conscience in defense of the regulative principle of worship. But consider how the Baptist Confession describes Christian liberty:

God alone is Lord of the conscience, and he has left it free from human doctrines and commandments that are in any way contrary to his word or not contained in it. So, believing such doctrines, or obeying such commands out of conscience, is a betrayal of true liberty of conscience. Requiring implicit faith or absolute and blind obedience destroys liberty of conscience and reason as well.

When the Bible speaks of Christian liberty, it does not mean freedom from the Word of God. Rather, it means freedom from human doctrines and commandments. As the Confession explains, the conscience is bound to God’s Word alone.

Paul addresses this in Romans 14:

As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand. (Romans 14:1–4)

Paul makes similar arguments in Galatians 4 and Colossians 2. The point is that Christians must not bind one another’s consciences with requirements that God himself has not imposed.

For that reason, the doctrine of Christian freedom actually supports the regulative principle rather than the normative principle. Under the normative principle, churches may introduce practices that go beyond Scripture and then expect others to participate in them. But doing so risks imposing extra-biblical obligations on the conscience.

The regulative principle guards against that danger. By limiting worship to what God himself has prescribed, it protects the liberty of the Christian conscience.

The Nature of True Piety

Ninth, Duncan appeals to the nature of true piety. He writes, “God repeatedly expresses his pleasure with, and delight in, those who do exactly what he says.”

Consider what the Lord says in Isaiah 66:

Thus says the LORD:
“Heaven is my throne,
and the earth is my footstool;
what is the house that you would build for me,
and what is the place of my rest?
All these things my hand has made,
and so all these things came to be,
declares the LORD.
But this is the one to whom I will look:
he who is humble and contrite in spirit
and trembles at my word.” (Isaiah 66:1–2)

This passage gives us something like a definition of true religion. It is marked by humility, contrition, and a willingness to tremble at the Word of God rather than choosing our own way.

The same principle appears in Deuteronomy 12, where God warns Israel, “Everything that I command you, you shall be careful to do. You shall not add to it or take from it” (Deuteronomy 12:32). And Jesus echoes this concern in the New Testament when he says, “True worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth” (John 4:23).

True piety, then, is not expressed by creativity in worship but by submission. It appears wherever God’s people humbly receive his Word and refuse to add to it or subtract from it.

Our Tendency Toward Idolatry

Tenth, we should consider our natural tendency toward idolatry.

This is evident throughout Israel’s history. One of the clearest examples appears almost immediately after God delivered the people from slavery in Egypt, when they fashioned the golden calf in the wilderness. The human heart is remarkably prone to idolatry in its many forms. John Calvin famously described our minds as “perpetual idol factories.” Martin Luther similarly observed, “We are inclined to [idolatry] by nature; and coming to us by inheritance, it seems pleasant.”

Paul describes this very tendency among the Gentiles in Romans 1: “They exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Romans 1:25).

God created us to be worshipers. If we do not worship him, we will inevitably worship something else—ourselves, a sports team, a career, money, or any number of other things. As Bob Dylan once put it, “It may be the devil, or it may be the Lord, but you’re gonna have to serve somebody.”

If we are so prone to wander into idolatry, how do we guard against it in our worship? Certainly not by adopting the normative principle, which easily becomes a slippery slope. As Calvin warned,

When we are left at liberty, all we are able to do is go astray. And then, when once we have turned aside from the right path, there is no end to our wanderings, until we get buried under a multitude of superstitions.

Church history provides many examples of this progression. By the Middle Ages, churches across Europe were collecting relics—physical objects believed to be associated with saints, such as bones, fragments of clothing, or items supposedly linked to biblical figures. These relics gradually became objects of veneration.

Early Christians sometimes honored martyrs and remembered them on the anniversaries of their deaths. In itself, that practice may have been harmless. But over time, it expanded significantly. Eventually, people began praying to the saints as intercessors before God. Feast days and religious processions were organized in their honor.

Devotion to Mary also expanded dramatically in the medieval church. She was called the “Queen of Heaven.” Prayers were directed to her, shrines were built in her honor, and some even began to speak of her as a co-redeemer with Christ.

Images of Christ, Mary, and the saints likewise became common in churches. People would kneel before these images in acts of devotion.

Advocates of the normative principle might respond by appealing to passages such as Deuteronomy 4 or the second commandment, insisting that these developments violate explicit biblical prohibitions. And that is precisely the problem with a slippery slope. The first step may not be expressly forbidden in Scripture. The second step may not be expressly forbidden either. But by the third or fourth step, people have grown accustomed to their justifications, and continuing along the same path seems reasonable, even when Scripture’s warnings stand plainly in the way.

Eventually, people may even reinterpret those warnings to justify what they have already begun to practice.

So how do we guard against these endless wanderings in worship? The regulative principle provides the safeguard. By restraining ourselves to what God has prescribed, we protect the church from drifting into the kinds of innovations that so often lead to idolatry.

The Testimony of Church History

Eleventh, Duncan points to the testimony of church history.

I considered leaving this one out because history is often messy. Throughout the centuries, churches have worshiped in many different ways. Some have followed the regulative principle, while others have followed the normative principle. So why should we consider the church’s historical testimony at all?

As Duncan explains, “Church history does not supply a normative authority for church worship, but it does supply a didactic authority that we would be foolish to ignore.” In other words, history does not determine how we should worship—that authority belongs to Scripture alone—but it can certainly inform our understanding.

When we examine church history, one pattern becomes clear: the healthiest periods of the church have generally been marked by simple, Bible-centered worship. In other words, they reflected the regulative principle.

Conversely, a decline in biblical worship often accompanies a broader decline in religion. In many ways, we can observe this trend throughout the Western world today. As churches abandon biblical worship and often biblical doctrine as well, people begin to wonder why they should attend at all. When Christian worship is reduced to a form of secular entertainment and the church becomes little more than a social gathering, people naturally look elsewhere. There is no shortage of entertainment or social clubs outside the church, so many eventually drift away. Churches throughout the West, especially those that have embraced unorthodox doctrine, are steadily shrinking.

Previously, I suggested that most churches today probably follow the normative principle of worship, often by default. If someone has never heard of the regulative principle or considered the subject carefully, the normative principle may seem like the obvious assumption. In my experience, most churches are not doing anything radical in their worship. At the same time, they are not intentionally following the regulative principle either. Instead, they are experiencing a slow slide down a slippery slope. Nothing they do is explicitly forbidden in Scripture, but over time, a culture of shallowness develops.

Consider the Bible’s instruction about singing in worship: “Be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart” (Ephesians 5:18–19).

The command is for the whole congregation to sing. To assist the congregation, churches often appoint song leaders and musicians who use microphones and amplifiers. Gradually, the volume on those microphones increases. The song leaders and musicians are placed on a stage at the front of the room, becoming the visual focal point. Then the lights in the sanctuary are dimmed, and spotlights illuminate the stage.

At that point, the focus has shifted entirely to the platform. The amplified music becomes so loud that the congregation can barely hear itself sing. Eventually, many people stop singing altogether and simply watch and listen. The church is no longer addressing one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. The congregation has become an audience.

Nothing in this process may directly violate an explicit biblical prohibition. Yet over time, the environment changes in such a way that the church is no longer doing what Scripture commands. That is the danger of the normative principle. Small, seemingly harmless steps can eventually reshape the character of worship.

Many people in such churches sense that something is missing, even if they cannot articulate why. They often describe worship as feeling empty or shallow. What is lacking is the solid foundation that comes from structuring worship according to the clear directives of Scripture.

We are continuing our study of worship, specifically corporate worship in the church. Does God care how we worship? Does he regulate how we worship? And how do we determine how we should worship?

So far, we’ve established that God does, in fact, care how we worship and that he does regulate the worship offered to him. We saw this in the story of Cain and Abel, which took place before tabernacle worship and before the ceremonial law was in force. We also see it clearly throughout the era of tabernacle worship. God gave many strict instructions regarding how his people were to worship him. In the notable case of Nadab and Abihu, we saw what happens when people choose to worship him in their own way.

We also saw that God continues to care about how he is worshiped under the new covenant. Christ accused the Pharisees of worshiping in vain because they had added to the commandments of God, and Paul warned against what he called “self-made religion.” Instead, he says we should submit to the Head of the church, Jesus Christ.

There are two competing principles regarding worship, and most Christians tend to fall into one of these two categories. Few would claim that God does not regulate worship at all. The real question is where we draw the line of what is permissible in the church.

First, there is the regulative principle, which says the church is permitted to do only what God commands. The normative principle, on the other hand, says the church is permitted to do anything except what God forbids.

If I had to guess, I would say that more churches today operate according to the normative principle rather than the regulative principle. Part of the reason may be the way the regulative principle is sometimes portrayed. The name alone can conjure up images of strict legalists insisting that you shouldn’t even have hymnals in church because there is no command in the Bible that says, “Thou shalt use hymnals.”

People sometimes make arguments like that, yet those same arguments are often made while sitting in a church building, as if there were a command in Scripture that says, “Thou shalt have dedicated buildings for worship.” There isn’t.

Questions like that may already be coming to your mind, and I will address them. For now, however, we’ve seen in both the Old and New Testaments that God permits only what he reveals. Nothing should be added to it, and nothing should be taken away from it.

That is, by definition, the regulative principle of worship. The normative principle says you may add practices as long as the Bible does not forbid them. The regulative principle holds that the church does only what God has revealed it should do—nothing more and nothing less.

Having seen the biblical teaching and examples of this, I want to focus now on two underlying truths that form the foundation of the regulative principle of worship:

1. A holy church

2. The authority and sufficiency of Scripture

In other words, we believe and practice the regulative principle because we believe in a holy church and in the authority and sufficiency of Scripture.

The Church as a Holy People

Let’s begin with the idea of a holy church.

Going all the way back to the early fourth century, the Nicene Creed described the church as “one holy catholic and apostolic Church.” By one, they meant there is only one body under Christ. By catholic, they were referring to the universal church, or the church across both geography and time. But for our purposes, notice how the creed describes the church as holy.

What did they mean by that?

Clearly, this is a very old understanding of the church. It did not arise during the Protestant Reformation. It goes back to the early centuries of the church itself. But what does it mean for the church to be holy?

In the simplest terms, to be holy means to be set apart by God for God.

Throughout the Old Testament, we see this idea repeatedly. Scripture speaks of holy ground, a holy city, a holy mountain, a holy temple, holy offerings, and holy people. For example, consider the fourth commandment:

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work. (Exodus 20:8–10)

Here, the Sabbath day is designated as holy or set apart from the rest of the week. There were six days for work, but this one day was distinguished by the command not to work. It was unique. It was different. It was set apart from the others for a distinct purpose given by God.

We see the same principle in the worship of the tabernacle. Exodus 30 says:

With [the anointing oil] you shall anoint the tent of meeting and the ark of the testimony, and the table and all its utensils, and the lampstand and its utensils, and the altar of incense, and the altar of burnt offering with all its utensils and the basin and its stand. You shall consecrate them, that they may be most holy. (Exodus 30:26–29)

To consecrate something meant to appoint or dedicate it for a sacred purpose.

When most people hear the word holy, they immediately think of moral purity or sinlessness. Sometimes the word does carry that meaning, but that is not what is meant when the Sabbath day is called holy or when the utensils of the tabernacle were designated as holy.

Saturday is not a morally pure day. The items in the tabernacle are not more righteous than the items in your home. What made them holy was that God had set them apart for his own purpose. The Sabbath day was meant to be different from the other six days of the week. The lampstand in the tabernacle was not meant to be taken home and used as a reading light. The altar was not meant to be used to cook family dinners.

God had a distinct purpose for these things in Israel’s worship of him, so they were set apart from what we might call common things.

We see this distinction in Acts 10 when Peter is given a vision of “all kinds of animals and reptiles and birds of the air” (Acts 10:12). The Lord says to him, “Rise, Peter; kill and eat” (Acts 10:13).

Under the dietary laws of the old covenant, Peter knew he was not allowed to eat certain animals. So he responds, “By no means, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is common or unclean” (Acts 10:14).

By common, Peter does not mean inherently evil. If that were the case, we would be committing sin every time we eat pork. While God had prohibited eating pork under the old covenant, Peter simply means that it had not been designated for them to eat. It was outside the bounds of what God had given his sanctified people.

So when God declares something or someone to be holy, it means that person or thing is set apart by him for his distinct purpose. It is different from what Scripture calls common.

This is how the church is described throughout the New Testament. Several different words are used, but they all point to the same idea. The church is holy. The church is sanctified. The church is made up of saints, which comes from the same root word as holy.

Peter writes that the church is “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession” (1 Peter 2:9). The church belongs uniquely to God and is set apart from everyone else.

This language echoes the way Israel was described in the Old Testament. In Exodus 19:5, God says, “You shall be my treasured possession among all peoples.” Israel was set apart from every other nation in a very distinct way. God used them uniquely and required them to live differently from the surrounding nations, even down to their foreskins. Their identity and practices marked them as a people set apart according to God’s purpose.

The New Testament says the same about the church.

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 1:2, “To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints together with all those who in every place call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

And in Ephesians 5, Paul describes the church this way:

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. (Ephesians 5:25–27)

Descriptions like these appear throughout the New Testament. The church is sanctified. The church is holy. The church is made up of saints. In other words, the church is set apart by God for God.

When we talk about sanctification, however, there are different aspects to it. Hebrews 10 gives us a helpful example.

In verse 10, we read, “We have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (Hebrews 10:10). This refers to a once-for-all setting apart of God’s people through the atoning work of Christ.

Then verse 14 says, “For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified” (Hebrews 10:14). Here sanctification is described as an ongoing process in the lives of those who have already been set apart through Christ.

Finally, there will come a day when God’s people are fully and perfectly sanctified as they enter eternal life, while everyone else faces eternal judgment. At that point, the separation between God’s people and the world will be complete.

The Centrality of Corporate Worship

Everything about the church’s identity is meant to be distinct from the rest of the world. What does this have to do with how we worship?

First, we need to understand that worship is the most important thing we do as the church. Worshipping and praising God is the very heartbeat of the church.

Going back to 1 Peter 2, Peter writes, “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9).

In Ephesians 1, as Paul describes how God has chosen and redeemed us, he repeatedly says it is for the praise of God: “to the praise of his glorious grace … to the praise of his glory … to the praise of his glory” (Ephesians 1:6, 12, 14).

Hebrews 13:15 says, “Let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name.”

In John 4, Jesus tells the Samaritan woman, “The hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him” (John 4:23).

The book of Revelation shows us what the people of God are doing in heaven and will be doing for all eternity. They are singing God’s praises: “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power” (Revelation 4:11).

Paul tells us that the culmination of human history will come when “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:10–11).

The Westminster Catechism asks, What is the chief end of man? The answer: Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.

This is also the clear pattern of the church in the New Testament. From the very beginning, we are told:

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. … And all who believed were together and had all things in common. … And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved. (Acts 2:42–47)

Notice that last line. What happened when people were saved? They joined themselves to the church. They separated themselves from the world and became members of this sanctified body.

What was this sanctified body doing? Corporate worship. They devoted themselves to the various elements of worship. They attended the temple together. They praised God together. And they did this consistently, even daily. We are told that day by day, they attended the temple together, and when they were not in the temple, they gathered in their homes.

God sets a people apart for the distinct purpose of glorifying him. Just as in the Old Testament, our corporate worship under the new covenant is a primary means by which we glorify him.

This point is important because we live in a time when many professing Christians believe they do not need to be part of the corporate church. You often hear people say, “I can worship God alone at home. I can worship on my fishing boat. I can worship anywhere. I don’t need to go and be part of the church on Sunday morning.”

While it is true that we can worship God apart from the gathered church, the consistent teaching and example of Scripture is that corporate worship is of supreme importance and should never be neglected. Hebrews 10 warns us not to neglect meeting together, “as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near” (Hebrews 10:25).

Another telling fact is that much of the New Testament was written to local churches—that is, bodies of believers meeting regularly for corporate worship.

In Matthew 18, we find a verse that is often taken out of context. Jesus says, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them” (Matthew 18:20).

The context of that statement is not corporate worship but church discipline. Yet the principle remains relevant. Jesus says that when his sanctified people are gathered in his name—that is, for his purpose—he is with that body of believers in a special way.

This does not mean that he is absent when we are alone. Rather, it emphasizes that Christ is present with his people when they gather together as the church, even in the most difficult circumstances.

The Church as the Pillar and Buttress of the Truth

Let’s consider one more passage that serves as a bridge between these two underlying principles—a holy church and the authority of Scripture. That passage is 1 Timothy 3:15.

Paul is writing to the young minister Timothy, who was serving the church in Ephesus. Ephesus was an extremely pagan and idolatrous city, and it must have been a challenging environment for the church. Along with the pressures from the surrounding culture, there were also internal temptations. The apostle John later had to remind them, “Little children, keep yourselves from idols” (1 John 5:21). It is easy to imagine the temptation to bring into the church beliefs and practices carried over from their former pagan lives.

Paul writes:

I hope to come to you soon, but I am writing these things to you so that, if I delay, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God, which is the church of the living God, a pillar and buttress of the truth. (1 Timothy 3:14–15)

Notice how Paul describes the church, and he is referring here to the gathered church.

First, the church is the household of God. That language might sound informal at first, but Paul is using terminology that echoes the tabernacle and the temple in the Old Testament. Rather than thinking of a household as a place where you relax and do whatever you want, Paul is describing a place of formal, regulated worship. It is certainly a place of joy, but it is also a place to be taken seriously.

Second, the church is the church of the living God. Why emphasize that God is living? For pagans, their gods were not living gods. They could create a god, however they wished, and worship that god, however they wished. They could invent the rules for themselves.

But that is not the case with a living God. Our God is real, and our God determines how he should be worshiped.

Finally, the church is described as a pillar and buttress of the truth—that is, the truth of God. According to Romans 1:18, the rest of the world suppresses the truth of God. Only the church, God’s set-apart people, has been entrusted with proclaiming and defending that truth.

As I mentioned previously, when our behavior in the church, especially in our worship, follows what God has revealed, we reflect the character of God himself. When it does not, we obscure the character of God and obscure the truth.

But as Paul says, the church is meant to be the pillar and buttress of the truth of our living God in this world.

The Authority and Sufficiency of Scripture

The church is a holy people set apart by God. We have a unique identity, and because we are set apart for God, we also have a unique purpose. This brings us to the second underlying principle: the authority and sufficiency of Scripture.

We see this principle in 1 Timothy 3:15 as well. Paul writes, “If I delay, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God.”

That statement is very explicit. As God’s set-apart people gather for God’s set-apart purpose, God gives a specific standard for how we are to conduct ourselves. I especially appreciate that word ought. It carries the idea of necessity. It is necessary that we behave in the way God directs.

This makes perfect sense. If we are set apart by God for God, it stands to reason that he would show us how to fulfill our purpose. He always has. We see it clearly throughout the Old Testament. We see aspects of it even in the Ten Commandments. And as we saw previously, we also see it in the New Testament.

The church under the new covenant does have regulations regarding corporate worship. There is a right way and a wrong way to behave in the household of God. Notice that Paul’s emphasis is not on how individuals live privately, but on how the gathered church behaves.

This verse brings the two principles together. Because the church is holy, it must behave as God directs. And because the church behaves as God directs, it reflects that holiness. It becomes, as Paul describes, a pillar and buttress of the truth.

So the second underlying principle is the authority of Scripture. Scripture is how we know what God requires of us.

The first paragraph of the 1689 Confession says:

The Holy Scriptures are the only sufficient, certain, and infallible standard of all saving knowledge, faith, and obedience. … To preserve and propagate the truth better and to establish and comfort the church with greater certainty against the corruption of the flesh and the malice of Satan and the world, the Lord put this revelation completely in writing. Therefore, the Holy Scriptures are absolutely necessary, because God’s former ways of revealing his will to his people have now ceased.

The Confession later adds:

The supreme judge for deciding all religious controversies and for evaluating all decrees of councils, opinions of ancient writers, human teachings, and individual interpretations, and in whose judgment we are to rest, is nothing but the Holy Scripture delivered by the Spirit. In this Scripture, our faith finds its final word.

If we believe the Bible is God’s Word, then we must treat it as authoritative. And if it is authoritative, we should rely on it to govern our worship rather than our own opinions and ideas.

Furthermore, if we believe the Bible is sufficient, then we do not need to add anything. God has revealed everything necessary. As Paul writes, “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16–17). The Bible is from God, so it is authoritative and sufficient, equipping us for every good work.

This was also the central issue of the Protestant Reformation. At the heart of the Reformation was a debate over the authority of Scripture in worshiping God. The church in Rome had long elevated church tradition to the same level of authority as the Word of God. In their view, tradition and the Bible were equally authoritative.

The Reformers rejected that idea. They insisted that tradition must always be subject to Scripture. The Bible alone is the church’s final authority.

For that reason, the debate during the Reformation closely overlapped with the debate between the regulative and normative principles of worship. The regulative principle says the church should include in its worship only what God commands in Scripture. The normative principle says the church may include anything that Scripture does not forbid.

The Roman church defended the normative approach with its traditions and innovations. The Reformers defended the regulative principle. They argued that the church, as a holy people set apart by God for a holy purpose, must worship in the ways God has revealed, because his Word is both authoritative and sufficient.

John Calvin expressed this point clearly:

The rule which distinguishes between pure and [valid] worship is of universal application, in order that we may not adopt any device which seems fit to ourselves, but look to the injunctions of Him who alone is entitled to prescribe. Therefore, if we would have Him to approve our worship, this rule, which He everywhere enforces with the utmost strictness, must be carefully observed. For there is a twofold reason why the Lord, in condemning and prohibiting all fictitious worship, requires us to give obedience only to His own voice. First, it tends greatly to establish His authority that we do not follow our own pleasure, but depend entirely on His sovereignty; and secondly, such is our folly, that when we are left at liberty, all we are able to do is go astray. And then when once we have turned aside from the right path, there is no end to our wanderings, until we get buried under a multitude of superstitions. Justly, therefore, does the Lord, in order to assert full right of dominion, strictly enjoin what He wishes us to do, and at once reject all human devices which are at variance with His command. Justly, too, does He, in express terms, define our limits, that we may not, by fabricating perverse modes of worship, provoke His anger against us. I know how difficult it is to persuade the world that God disapproves of all modes of worship not expressly sanctioned by His Word. The opposite persuasion which cleaves to them, being seated, as it were, in their very bones and marrow, is that whatever they do has in itself a sufficient sanction, provided it exhibits some kind of zeal for the honor of God. Since God not only regards as fruitless but also plainly abominates whatever we undertake from zeal to His worship if at variance with His command, what do we gain by a contrary course? The words of God are clear and distinct. “Obedience is better than sacrifice.” “In vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.” Every addition to His word, especially in this matter, is a lie. Mere “will worship” is vanity. This is the decision, and when once the judge has decided, it is no longer time to debate.

To summarize Calvin’s argument, God approves only the worship he commands in Scripture. Human inventions in worship, even when motivated by zeal, undermine God’s authority. True worship, therefore, requires obedience to God’s revealed will rather than human creativity.

Calvin also makes a helpful observation when he says that when we are left at liberty, we tend to go astray. Once we depart from the right path, there is no end to our wandering.

In other words, the normative principle of worship does not merely create the possibility of a slippery slope; it is the slippery slope. In subtle ways, it undermines both the holiness of the church and the authority and sufficiency of Scripture.

First, it treats the worship of God’s sanctified people as something common, allowing the church to incorporate whatever it chooses. Second, it assumes that God has not provided everything necessary for what is the most important function of his sanctified church.

A Necessary Distinction

At this point, some people push back and say, “Wait a minute. There are many things we do that God does not explicitly prescribe.”

That is true. If we had to live by the regulative principle in every aspect of life, we would essentially be crippled. There is no command in Scripture telling me to set my alarm in the morning. There is no command telling me to take a shower, check the weather forecast, or get in my car and drive to work. There are countless things we do every day that the Bible does not specifically tell us to do.

Some people use that fact to argue that the regulative principle cannot possibly be correct.

Pastor Mark Driscoll once made this argument:

What I don’t understand is why we would treat 1 hour a week by a certain set of rules, and the other 167 hours of the week by a different set of rules. … You don’t wake up in the morning acting like a regulativist. You don’t wake up in the morning and say, Okay, I need to brush my teeth. Where is that in the Bible? It’s not in there. Golly, I was hoping I could brush my teeth, but I can’t. Well, I guess I’ll have breakfast. Well, the Bible doesn’t say breakfast. It says to eat, but it doesn’t say when. Is it okay to eat in the morning? I’d better pray about this. Okay. I gotta put on pants. Uh-oh, pants aren’t in the Bible. Oh no. This is gonna be a bad day … Why is it that we live by the normative green-light principle until we get to church, and then we have to live by the regulative red-light principle just for an hour a week as if there’s not a blur in between the lines? We also have other church gatherings, meetings, Wednesday night classes, community groups. Do they count red light, green light? The whole thing gets very confusing. I think we live our whole life by the same principles, whether we’re scattered or gathered for worship, it’s green light. We’re free until we see something that is sinful and forbidden, then it’s red light and we stop.

Do you see the mistake Driscoll makes?

For many people, this argument is compelling. It seems reasonable. There are many things we do and must do that do not require a direct command from God. So why, when the church gathers for corporate worship, do we insist on the regulative principle?

The answer returns us to the two principles I have already expounded upon:

1. A holy church

2. The authority and sufficiency of Scripture

There is a vital distinction between the sanctified people of God gathering for corporate worship—our highest calling—and the rest of life. God regulates worship in a way that he does not regulate every detail of daily life.

Think again about the tabernacle in the Old Testament. God did not regulate how someone used a lampstand in their own home. But he did regulate how the lampstand was used in the tabernacle.

Why? Because God himself made a distinction between worship and ordinary life. Some things were common, and some things were sanctified.

In short, worship is governed by the regulative principle because it is special, distinct, and sanctified. The rest of life, however, operates according to the normative principle.

In Acts 19, the apostle Paul went to the city of Ephesus. He spent three months reasoning with the Jews in the synagogue. Then he withdrew and taught daily in the Hall of Tyrannus for another two years. His efforts were remarkably effective. We’re told, “All the residents of Asia heard the word of the Lord, both Jews and Greeks” (Acts 19:10). Later, Luke adds, “The word of the Lord continued to increase and prevail mightily” (Acts 19:20).

Ephesus was no small town. It was one of the most important cities in the region and was famous for its religion. You’re likely familiar with the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. This was a thoroughly pagan city. When Paul came preaching the gospel and making disciples, he was not affecting only a few individuals; he was shaking the life of the city itself. That’s why a local silversmith named Demetrius, who made idols for a living, was able to incite a riot. Christianity threatened their religion, their culture, their identity, and, in the case of idolmakers, their livelihood.

Ephesus was hostile territory, and becoming a Christian could be costly. You didn’t simply change your religion without consequence. You had to shift your loyalties in ways that could damage relationships with family and friends and ruin your public reputation.

Even so, “the word of the Lord continued to increase and prevail mightily” (Acts 19:20). God had a people in that place, and a church was formed. Years later, Paul could write this letter to an established congregation.

Paul’s letter to the Ephesians can be divided into two parts. In the first half, Paul explains what Christ has done. In effect, he says, “You are Christians because of this. Your lives are completely different because Christ has done this for you.” In the second half, he explains how they ought to live in light of that reality.

What’s especially significant is Paul’s emphasis not only on how Christ reconciles sinners to God, but also on how he reconciles sinners to one another—specifically, Jews and Gentiles. God’s plan of salvation is not merely about rescuing individuals. It is also about creating a community of redeemed believers from every background, culture, and way of life. Though they were once divided, they are now united for mutual help and the glory of God.

One Sentence of Praise and a Subtle Shift

In the first chapter of Ephesians, Paul begins with one long expression of praise to God. In fact, verses 3–14 form a single sentence in the original Greek. As we read this, notice two things.

First, notice the change in pronouns. It’s subtle, but Paul moves from speaking about “us” and “we” to speaking about “you.” It’s not obvious at first, but Paul has two groups in mind.

Second, notice how Paul gives credit for our salvation to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Spirit. This lays a foundation for the practical lessons that follow. Later, Paul will urge his readers to pursue unity among themselves. Here, he reminds them that sinners are saved and brought into the church only by the cooperative, unified work of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Just as the unified Godhead acted together in Genesis 1 to create the first man and woman in covenant union, the unified Godhead acts together to redeem a people who are united with one another in the church.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love, he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory. (Ephesians 1:3–14)

Again, this is one sentence in the original Greek.

From the very beginning of the letter, Paul establishes themes of unity and reconciliation. He writes that God’s ultimate plan is “to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth” (Ephesians 1:10). The unified Godhead is working to bring everything together under Christ’s authority. The goal is unity, accomplished through the salvation of sinners in a deeply broken and divided world.

But notice the pronoun shift again. God “blessed us … he chose us … that we should be holy and blameless.” Then Paul adds, “In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit” (Ephesians 1:13).

“We have been saved,” he says, “but you also have been saved.” Evidently, he has two groups in mind.

He clarifies this when he speaks of “we who were the first to hope in Christ” (Ephesians 1:12). Who were the first to hope in Christ? Jesus’ earliest disciples were Jews. In fact, Jesus initially instructed them, “Go nowhere among the Gentiles and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 10:5–6). It was not until Cornelius’s conversion in Acts 10 that the church began to expand more fully among the Gentiles.

This becomes even clearer as the letter continues. When Paul refers to “we” and “you,” he is referring to Jews and Gentiles. As he later explains, he is speaking of those who were “near” to God and those who were “far off,” both spiritually and physically, since the Gentiles were far removed from the center of worship in Jerusalem (Ephesians 2:17).

Christ Breaks Down the Dividing Wall

Therefore, remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands— remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus, you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (Ephesians 2:11–22)

Consider how radical this was in the early church. The apostle Peter needed a special vision from God before he was willing to enter a Gentile’s home and speak about the gospel. When he arrived, he said, “You yourselves know how unlawful it is for a Jew to associate with or to visit anyone of another nation, but God has shown me that I should not call any person common or unclean” (Acts 10:28). Even after that, Peter later drew back from fellowship with Gentiles when other Jews were present, which led to Paul confronting him publicly.

The reconciliation of Jews and Gentiles was extremely difficult. As Paul says, there was a “dividing wall of hostility” between them (Ephesians 2:14). In the temple itself, a literal wall separated Jews from Gentiles.

This division had deep roots in Israel’s history. For nearly 1,500 years, the Law of Moses had set Israel apart from every other nation. Circumcision marked them physically (Genesis 17:10–14). Dietary laws governed what they could eat (Leviticus 11). Purity laws regulated daily life (Leviticus 15). Even their clothing and calendar distinguished them (Numbers 15:38–39; Exodus 31:16–17). God had said, “I am the LORD your God, who has separated you from the peoples … You shall be holy to me, for I the LORD am holy and have separated you from the peoples, that you should be mine” (Leviticus 20:24, 26).

This separation became part of their identity, and it produced real hostility. Jews came to regard Gentiles as unclean, and Gentiles, in turn, often despised the Jews. There was suspicion and resentment on both sides.

But Christ came and reconciled them. He tore down the dividing wall of hostility by reconciling both groups to God. As Paul says, Christ created “in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile … both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility” (Ephesians 2:15–16).

This had always been God’s plan. When God called Abraham, he said:

I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed. (Genesis 12:2–3)

All the families of the earth, not just Israel, but Jews and Gentiles.

As God redeems his people and makes them “alive together with Christ,” he is not merely saving individuals (Ephesians 2:5). He is bringing them together. He is forming one new people. Paul writes:

You are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (Ephesians 2:19–22)

Notice the language Paul uses: fellow citizens, members of the household of God, a holy temple in the Lord, a dwelling place for God. These are not descriptions of individuals. They are corporate. God is redeeming people and binding them together into a single community.

Though they come from different backgrounds, cultures, and ways of life, they are united in Christ. They share the same citizenship. They belong to the same household. They are being built together into the same temple.

This is what Christ accomplished. He did not merely reconcile sinners to God in isolation. He reconciled them to one another. He formed a new people, a unified body, a dwelling place for God himself.

Walking Worthy of Our Calling Together

With that, in chapter 4, Paul moves from explaining what Christ has done to showing how we are to live in response. He writes:

I, therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. (Ephesians 4:1–3)

When I read this practical conclusion, two things stand out.

First, our calling as Christians is not limited to our relationship with God. That is often where new believers focus. I’ve been reconciled to God. I have responsibilities to God. And that is true. But Paul makes clear that our calling also includes our relationship and responsibilities to the body of Christ—the church.

Second, this calling is not always easy. When Paul tells us to be humble, gentle, and patient, to bear with one another in love, and to strive for unity, he assumes that relationships within the church will require effort. We do not need to be reminded to be humble unless we are tempted toward pride. We do not need to bear with one another unless there are burdens to bear.

It may feel distant and abstract to think about the original context—how difficult it was for Jews and Gentiles to live in unity—but even today, there are significant differences among us. How many of you, like me, sell funerals for a living? How many of you are in your mid-forties, but all of your children are still under the age of eight? How many of you would call Bob Dylan one of your favorite musicians? Are there any Atlanta Braves fans reading this?

So what holds the body of Christ together? Not shared hobbies, careers, politics, backgrounds, sports teams, or musical tastes. Paul answers that question directly:

There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call— one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. (Ephesians 4:4–6)

Years ago, soon after I moved to North Carolina, I realized that many of my closest friends were much older, retired men. I was in my late twenties and early thirties, married but without children. Most of the men I spent time with were retired grandfathers. We were not in the same stage of life. My wife said it was because I’m an old soul. Whatever the reason, I genuinely cherished those friendships, despite having little in common on the surface.

What made those friendships work?

One hope. One Lord. One faith. One God.

That was more than enough.

Brother, if you want to listen to bluegrass rather than Bob Dylan, that’s fine. You’re not a Braves fan. You don’t even like baseball. So what? When you invite me to dinner, you may set more forks in front of me than I know how to use. When I invite you over, we may serve a meal that doesn’t require a fork at all. But none of that matters. We have Christ. In him, we are bound together for eternity.

There is no greater foundation for friendship than that. No matter our differences, by God’s help, we can be united. We are brothers. If Jews and Gentiles could be made one in Christ, there is nothing that can ultimately divide us.

Why God Calls Us to Grow Together

Having said all of that, we might ask why. Why does God bring us together and call us to walk the pilgrim’s pathway together? Why can’t we go it alone? We are 21st-century American men. We prize individualism and independence. Why does the Lord exhort us to bear with one another’s differences when it would be easier to surround ourselves only with people who share our interests?

Paul answers that question:

And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. (Ephesians 4:11–16)

God has given shepherds, teachers, and other leaders to equip the saints. But it is the saints themselves who carry out the work of ministry and build up the body of Christ. Together, they move toward unity, maturity, and conformity to Christ.

At the same time, we protect one another from being “tossed to and fro” by false teaching. This only happens when each member is actively engaged in the life of the body—serving, encouraging, and helping one another grow. The body grows as each part does its work.

Christian men, we should keep these truths in mind:

1. Christ saved us into a unified brotherhood.

2. Our unity is rooted in our shared identity in Christ.

3. Spiritual growth requires humility, patience, and intentional investment in one another.

4. God uses other men to help us mature and remain grounded in truth.

5. God designed us to grow spiritually through relationships with other men.

Last week, I began addressing the subject of worship. Does God care how we worship? If so, how should we worship under the new covenant? What does the Bible teach about worship in the church today?

I attempted to show that God, in fact, cares how we worship. This is evident in the Old Testament, where God gave Israel detailed and precise instructions concerning worship, with serious consequences for disobedience.

Leviticus 10 recounts the story of Nadab and Abihu, priests serving in the tabernacle:

Now Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, each took his censer and put fire in it and laid incense on it and offered unauthorized fire before the LORD, which he had not commanded them. And fire came out from before the LORD and consumed them, and they died before the LORD. Then Moses said to Aaron, “This is what the LORD has said: ‘Among those who are near me I will be sanctified, and before all the people I will be glorified.’” (Leviticus 10:1–3)

When these men chose to worship God in a way he had not commanded, they were immediately judged. God declares, “Among those who are near me I will be sanctified.” God will be treated as holy.

This principle appears elsewhere. In Deuteronomy 4, God commands, “You shall not add to the word that I command you, nor take from it” (Deuteronomy 4:2).

In 1 Samuel 15, the Lord instructed King Saul to destroy the Amalekites completely. Saul spared the best of their livestock, claiming he intended to sacrifice them to God. Though this sounded noble, Samuel responded, “Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD?” (1 Samuel 15:22). Worship divorced from obedience is unacceptable. If worship exceeds or ignores what God has commanded, he does not receive it.

These examples come from the period of tabernacle worship, when the ceremonial law was in force. Many of its specific elements were fulfilled by Christ in types and shadows. Yet an enduring principle remains: God cares how he is worshiped, and only he can prescribe what is acceptable.

We saw this even before the ceremonial law, in the account of Cain and Abel. God accepted Abel’s offering and rejected Cain’s. The Ten Commandments, part of God’s moral law rather than the ceremonial system, also affirm that only he determines how he is to be worshiped.

Some object that these examples come from the Old Testament, which many treat as largely irrelevant. But Scripture is one unified revelation. The Old Testament is not merely background material. Paul writes, “Whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction” (Romans 15:4). Jesus says, “You search the Scriptures … and it is they that bear witness about me” (John 5:39). We do not have the full instruction of God or the full revelation of Christ without the Old Testament.

Even so, we must ask whether this principle continues under the new covenant. Consider Matthew 15. Some assume that Jesus liberated worship from divine prescription. Let’s consider what he says.

Jesus Condemns Human Traditions in Worship

By the time we come to Matthew 15, the Jewish leaders had developed a complex system of laws and traditions in addition to God’s law. In their minds, these traditions served as a fence around God’s commandments, preventing anyone from violating them.

For example, the fourth commandment forbade work on the Sabbath. To avoid breaking it, they created 39 categories of work and developed detailed rules for each. Writing and erasing were both considered work. According to the Mishnah, no one should write more than two letters on the Sabbath, and erasing those letters to write two more would count as writing four letters, thus violating the Sabbath.

They also ruled that a person could not travel more than 2,000 cubits (roughly three-quarters of a mile) from home on the Sabbath. Yet they created loopholes. If a fence stood within that distance, a person could walk to the fence and then travel another 2,000 cubits from there.

This was the religious environment in which Jesus’ public ministry took place. These were the kinds of traditions behind the Pharisees’ frequent accusations that he violated the Sabbath.

When we read a passage like Matthew 15, we might assume the Pharisees were wrong because they were too strict, and that Jesus came to liberate people from strict worship. But Jesus was not opposing God’s law. He said plainly, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (Matthew 5:17). His correction was not that they were too scrupulous, but that they were too lax.

Then Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands when they eat.” He answered them, “And why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition? For God commanded, ‘Honor your father and your mother,’ and, ‘Whoever reviles father or mother must surely die.’ But you say, ‘If anyone tells his father or his mother, “What you would have gained from me is given to God,” he need not honor his father.’ So, for the sake of your tradition, you have made void the word of God. You hypocrites! Well did Isaiah prophesy of you, when he said:

“‘This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.’” (Matthew 15:1–9)

The first thing to notice is that Jesus treats this entire controversy as a matter of worship. He makes that clear by quoting Isaiah. Whatever others may have assumed, Jesus identifies this issue as one concerning worship.

Second, the Pharisees do not appeal to God’s law. They ask, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders?” (Matthew 15:2). The tradition in question was ceremonial handwashing, not for hygiene, but as a religious ritual meant to prevent ceremonial defilement.

Jesus does not accuse them of being too strict. He accuses them of breaking God’s law. “Why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition?” (Matthew 15:3).

He illustrates this with the tradition known as Corban. Suppose a man’s parents needed financial help. The fifth commandment says, “Honor your father and your mother,” which certainly includes caring for them (Exodus 20:12). But the man could declare his money Corban, meaning dedicated to God. This did not require him to give the money immediately. He could continue using it for himself, while claiming it was reserved for the temple upon his death.

In reality, he was not giving the money to God. He was using a religious vow as an excuse to avoid helping his parents.

Jesus exposes this as subtraction by addition. By adding their tradition, they nullified God’s command. “For the sake of your tradition, you have made void the word of God” (Matthew 15:6). Their tradition did not reflect sincere devotion but hypocrisy.

Jesus was not criticizing them for being too strict. He was condemning them for violating God’s law. By quoting Isaiah, he shows that their worship was empty—mere lip service. It was a human invention that exceeded God’s prescription.

Their failure was both internal and external. Their hearts were far from God, and their worship did not conform to his command. Both their motivation and their standard were wrong.

As Jesus fulfills the law, certain aspects of worship will change in form. But there will always be a standard, and God alone determines it. Jesus shows that violating this standard can occur not only by removing what God has commanded, but also by adding to it. If God commands something and we neglect it, we disobey him. And if God commands something and we add to it, we also disobey him, implying that what he has revealed is insufficient.

Worship in Spirit and Truth

Previously, I referenced Jesus’ statement to the Samaritan woman several times, so let’s consider its context.

As Jesus and his disciples passed through Samaria, a region between Galilee and Judea, he met an unnamed Samaritan woman at a well. He asked her for a drink, and she eventually suspects he was a prophet. So she asked him to settle a long-standing dispute between the Samaritans and the Jews.

The woman said to him, “Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship.” Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming (he who is called Christ). When he comes, he will tell us all things.” Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am he.” (John 4:19–26)

The dispute concerns the proper place of worship. In the Old Testament, God chose Jerusalem as the place where his temple would be built and where his people would worship him. But the Samaritans, who emerged after the Assyrian conquest of Israel and the intermingling of peoples, developed a corrupted form of religion. They believed Mount Gerizim was the proper place of worship rather than Jerusalem.

In his response, Jesus first points to an upcoming shift in the place of worship. He says, “The hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father” (John 4:21). In other words, worship would no longer be tied to a specific geographic location. God would be worshiped wherever his people are found.

This helps explain why many of the Reformers kept their church buildings locked during the week. They wanted to emphasize that while the church building was where believers gathered for corporate worship, it was not a sacred location required for meeting with God. As the 1689 Baptist Confession states:

Under the gospel, neither prayer nor any other part of religious worship is now restricted to or made more acceptable by the place where it is done or toward which it is directed. Instead, God is to be worshipped everywhere in spirit and in truth—daily in each family and privately by each individual. Also, more formal worship is to be performed in public assemblies, and these must not be carelessly or deliberately neglected or forsaken when God, by his word or providence, calls us to them.

Second, Jesus shows that worship must be governed by revelation. Even though the place of worship would change, he answers the woman’s question about old covenant worship, saying, “You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews” (John 4:22).

The Samaritans were wrong to worship on Mount Gerizim. God had revealed that worship was to occur in Jerusalem. It was not right for the Samaritans, or anyone else, to choose their own way.

Notice how Jesus connects their faulty worship with ignorance of God himself. “You worship what you do not know” (John 4:22). They were not only confused about how to worship but about whom they worshiped. What God reveals flows from who he is. When we add to, subtract from, or alter what he has revealed, we obscure his character.

For example, if a church never corporately confesses sin or calls its people to repentance, it obscures God’s righteousness and holiness. If the Lord’s Supper is neglected, the centrality of Christ’s atoning work is diminished. If worship is structured around performance and production, with the focus on the audience’s emotional experience, it becomes a manufactured feeling rather than a response to God’s inherent worthiness.

When worship is shaped by revelation, it reflects God’s character. When it is not, it reflects ours. False worship says more about us than about God.

We could extend this further and say that how you worship will shape what you become. If the church minimizes sin, it not only obscures God’s holiness but also produces people who do not take sin seriously. Ultimately, it produces people who do not take God seriously.

My wife and I once visited a satellite campus of a large megachurch in Atlanta. When we walked in, the bass from the music was so loud you could feel it in your chest. Throughout the service, people mostly sat and watched a few individuals perform on stage. During the sermon, the lights were so dim I could barely see the Bible on my lap. As for the preacher, he was not physically present. We watched him on a large screen as he preached at another campus.

As I observed the service, I made mental notes of what seemed wrong. If I looked for negative commands in Scripture—“Thou shalt not play music loudly” or “Thou shalt not videocast your preacher”—I would not find them. It reminded me of Justice Potter Stewart’s remark about pornography: “I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.”

I’ve spoken with many people who feel something is off in their church but cannot identify why. They search for negative commands in Scripture and, finding none, assume everything must be acceptable. But what if they searched for positive commands instead? What if they examined what Scripture actually prescribes?

Jesus did not need to say, “Do not worship on Mount Gerizim,” because he had already revealed where worship was to occur.

Finally, Jesus shows that worship remains essential under the new covenant. Though its form would change, its importance would not. He says, “The hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him” (John 4:23).

God desires worshipers. He seeks people who will worship him.

Christ Alone Governs New Covenant Worship

Next, let’s consider what the apostle Paul says about worship under the new covenant, beginning with Colossians 2.

In this passage, Paul addresses the false teaching that had begun to trouble the church. When we read it, our attention is naturally drawn to the errors he confronts. But in correcting those errors, Paul also teaches something positive about worship.

Therefore, let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ. Let no one disqualify you, insisting on asceticism and worship of angels, going on in detail about visions, puffed up without reason by his sensuous mind, and not holding fast to the Head, from whom the whole body, nourished and knit together through its joints and ligaments, grows with a growth that is from God. (Colossians 2:16–19)

At first glance, this may seem entirely negative—focused only on what should not be done. But Paul begins by reminding the church that they are no longer under the ceremonial law. The form of worship had changed under the new covenant. The ceremonial aspects of the law, including the seventh-day Sabbath and religious festivals, were shadows fulfilled in Christ.

Paul then confronts other false practices—asceticism, angel worship, and claims of special visions. These practices gave an appearance of humility but were rooted in human pride. Instead of “holding fast to the Head,” who is Christ, they were embracing ideas and practices that departed from him.

This reveals something essential about worship. True worship is not merely subjective or internal. It is governed by an objective standard outside of ourselves. There is a right way to worship and a wrong way, and false worship represents a departure from Christ himself. He is not only the object of our worship but also the one who governs it.

When Paul says, in effect, “Do not worship this way,” he implies that there is a true way to worship, and that true way does not originate with us. It comes from the Lord.

This brings us to the two principles of worship I mentioned previously: the normative principle and the regulative principle. The normative principle says that whatever is not forbidden in Scripture is permissible in worship. The regulative principle says that only what God has commanded is permissible.

At first glance, Paul’s prohibitions might seem to support the normative principle. But look more closely. Paul rejects humanly imposed regulations precisely because they do not come from God (Colossians 2:16-17). Then, he describes these practices as “self-made religion” (Colossians 2:23). Their fundamental problem is their origin. They are man-made.

Paul also identifies Christ as the Head of the church (Colossians 2:19). This means Christ alone has authority over the church and its worship.

The normative principle says that whatever is not forbidden is acceptable, but Paul assumes the opposite. If a practice does not come from Christ, the Head of the church, it has no place in worship. We cannot invent elements of worship simply because Scripture does not explicitly forbid them. Worship must be governed by what Christ himself has revealed. There is no place in the church for self-made religion.

Five Principles for Orderly and Biblical Worship

In 1 Corinthians 14, Paul addresses the proper use of spiritual gifts, particularly tongues and prophecy. This instruction is given within the context of corporate worship. This is important because some claim the New Testament does not teach formal corporate worship, treating it instead as an Old Testament concept. They argue that while the church gathers, it does not gather for structured worship. But this chapter clearly shows the church assembling for corporate worship, and Paul insists that this gathering be structured and orderly.

First, Paul writes, “When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up” (1 Corinthians 14:26). This shows that God regulates worship under the new covenant. Corporate worship is not a free-for-all. Paul does not permit anything simply because it is not forbidden. Instead, he establishes a clear standard: whatever is done must build up the church.

Second, Paul places limits on participation. He writes, “If any speak in a tongue, let there be only two or at most three, and each in turn, and let someone interpret” (1 Corinthians 14:27). He applies similar limits to prophecy—two or three at most, and always one at a time. If there is no interpreter, those with the gift of tongues must remain silent (1 Corinthians 14:28). Even legitimate spiritual gifts are subject to regulation.

Third, Paul shows that worship reflects God’s character. He writes, “For God is not a God of confusion but of peace” (1 Corinthians 14:33). Worship must be orderly because God himself is orderly. Worship is regulated not only by explicit commands but also by what God’s nature reveals.

Fourth, Paul emphasizes that worship is governed by divine command. He writes, “If anyone thinks that he is a prophet, or spiritual, he should acknowledge that the things I am writing to you are a command of the Lord” (1 Corinthians 14:37). Some claim that structure and regulation quench the Spirit. But Paul makes clear that even Spirit-given gifts must operate under the Lord’s authority. The Spirit does not contradict the Lord’s commands.

Fifth, Paul concludes, “All things should be done decently and in order” (1 Corinthians 14:40). Worship must always remain in submission to Christ, the Head of the church, who alone has authority to determine what is proper.

Ligon Duncan writes:

The Bible does more than show us that there is such a thing as corporate worship and that God cares about how it is done. The Bible testifies, in both New Testament and Old, in its teachings about God and his enduring moral norms, by precept and example, that corporate worship is to be conducted in careful response to divine revelation.

Similarly, Sam Waldron writes:

The church is holy, and thus its formal assemblies are holy, and for this reason governed by God in a special and distinctive way. Scripture alone, in its special application to the church, governs the church’s worship in a way and with a specificity that it does not govern the rest of human life. When this special function of Scripture as the regulative principle of the church is properly appreciated, then it guides us to a biblical pattern of worship to which nothing substantial should be added and from which nothing should be subtracted because the pattern is divinely established!

Scripture consistently shows that God cares how he is worshiped. We see this in the Old Testament with Nadab and Abihu and with King Saul, who were judged for adding to or departing from God’s commands. We see it in Cain and Abel, demonstrating that this principle predates the ceremonial law. And we see it in Christ and the apostles, confirming that it continues under the new covenant.

Jesus rejects man-made traditions that go beyond divine revelation. Paul likewise condemns self-made religion and affirms that the Lord alone regulates corporate worship. Even those exercising spiritual gifts must submit to his authority.

Therefore, we must be careful in how we worship. New ideas and practices should be examined in light of Scripture. Every element of worship must be governed by what God has revealed.

Recently, I mentioned to a brother in the church that we would begin a new study on worship. I said I would attempt to answer the question, How should the church worship? He quickly replied, “In spirit and truth” (John 4:24). That answer is biblically correct, but it raises another question: What does it mean to worship in spirit and truth?

I should say at the outset that two resources have been especially helpful to me. The first is Does God Care How We Worship? by Ligon Duncan. The second is How Then Should We Worship? by Sam Waldron. I have consulted more than these two, but if you want to study the subject further, both are worth your time.

Who Determines How God Is Worshiped?

Let me begin by citing the first paragraph of the chapter on “Religious Worship and the Sabbath Day” from the 1689 Baptist Confession:

The light of nature demonstrates that there is a God who has lordship and sovereignty over all. He is just and good and does good to everyone. Therefore, he should be feared, loved, praised, called on, trusted in, and served—with all the heart and all the soul and all the strength. But the acceptable way to worship the true God is instituted by him, and it is delimited by his own revealed will. Thus, he may not be worshipped according to human imagination or inventions or the suggestions of Satan, nor through any visible representations, nor in any other way that is not prescribed in the Holy Scriptures.

The Confession makes a simple argument that only God has the right to determine how he is to be worshiped. That likely makes sense to most of us. We may never have considered that man could decide for himself how God should be worshiped. Yet that has often been the case and remains so today. Throughout church history, many have taken it upon themselves to worship God as they see fit, whether or not Scripture provides warrant for it.

This concern explains why the chapter begins as it does. In the 17th century, the proper worship of God was the primary point of debate between the Anglicans and the Puritans. The Church of England stated in the Thirty-Nine Articles, “The Church hath power to decree rites or ceremonies and authority in controversies of faith. And yet it is not lawful for the church to ordain anything contrary to God’s Word written.”

That final sentence may sound reassuring. It may seem that they were unwilling to go beyond Scripture. But the weight falls on the first sentence, which says the church claimed the authority to decree rites and ceremonies.

The Puritans responded by insisting that true worship consists only of what God commands in Scripture. The Anglicans, however, argued that worship must include what God commands and may also include anything not expressly forbidden. In other words, they believed the church could add to what God commands, provided Scripture did not explicitly prohibit it.

Put differently, the Puritans said false worship is anything not commanded by God. The Anglicans said false worship is only what God has condemned. The difference is significant.

The 17th-century Particular Baptists sided with the Puritans, which is why the Confession states,

The acceptable way to worship the true God is instituted by him, and it is delimited by his own revealed will. Thus, he may not be worshipped according to human imagination or inventions or the suggestions of Satan, nor through any visible representations, nor in any other way that is not prescribed in the Holy Scriptures.

Were they right?

A History of Disputes Over Worship

Several years ago, I followed a website that posted video clips of some of the wildest church antics from around the country. One video showed a preacher becoming so animated during his sermon that he kicked over the lectern. Another showed a pastor flying onto the stage in an aerial harness. I’ve seen churches host movie-themed worship services. Star Wars has been a popular choice.

Even if we set aside the most outrageous examples, the church has long wrestled with the question: What is the proper way to worship God?

In the 8th century, churches debated the use of images and icons. Some believed that images, such as crucifixes or paintings of Christ, helped people worship and deepen their devotion. Others argued that images violated the Second Commandment: “You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath” (Exodus 20:4). They considered it idolatry, even if the images depicted Christ.

By the late Middle Ages, many elements had been added to worship, some borrowed from old covenant practices, such as burning incense. Worship became increasingly elaborate, especially in the Lord’s Supper. It became the function of the clergy primarily, while the congregation largely observed. The Protestant Reformers accused the Catholic Church of obscuring true worship through these human innovations.

In the 16th century, even the Reformers differed. Martin Luther held to what is called the normative principle: the church may include in worship whatever Scripture does not forbid. Ulrich Zwingli, later John Calvin, and others argued for the regulative principle: the church may include only what Scripture commands. This debate touched on images, vestments, music, and the structure of the service.

In the 17th century, the Puritans objected to the Book of Common Prayer in the Church of England. They opposed set liturgies imposed by governing authorities and specific practices such as the sign of the cross in baptism and kneeling at communion. The Presbyterians later expressed their convictions in the Westminster Confession, which contains a paragraph nearly identical to the one in the Baptist Confession.

Among Baptists in the late 17th century, hymn-singing became controversial. All agreed that the church should sing, but the question was what to sing. The safest option was the inspired Psalms. Benjamin Keach, however, argued that Scripture instructs the church to sing more than the Psalter. Paul writes, “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly … singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs” (Colossians 3:16). Keach maintained that, in light of Christ’s finished work, the church should compose new songs as well.

The 18th-century Great Awakening sparked debates over the role of emotion in worship and the style of preaching. Should preaching be measured and studious, or should it stir the emotions of the congregation?

In the 19th century, Charles Finney and others adopted a more pragmatic approach, emphasizing results. In the 20th century, some Protestant churches returned to more formal liturgies, while many others moved toward increasingly contemporary, even secular styles.

Virtually every element of worship has been debated, and churches have often divided over these issues. At one point, I searched online for summaries of historic church debates over various aspects of worship—singing, instruments, preaching, prayer, clothing, buildings. The results seemed endless.

For a time, a movement gained traction claiming that the Bible does not teach the concept of a formal “worship service.” According to its advocates, structured services centered on preaching, distinctions between pastors and members, formal liturgies, dressing up, or even designated church buildings were departures from true Christianity.

Disputes over worship have always existed, and they will continue. New controversies and new proposals will arise. At times, it has seemed that anyone who could argue the church had been worshiping incorrectly for 2,000 years could produce a best-selling book.

So how do we discern what is appropriate? What does it mean to worship “in spirit and truth” (John 4:24)? When the next controversy arises, how will we know what to do?

Does God Care How We Worship?

That is the purpose of this study. Before laying out specific principles for worship, however, I want to establish from Scripture that God does, in fact, care how we worship him.

Ligon Duncan writes,

The single greatest obstacle to the reform of worship in the evangelical church today is evangelicalism’s general belief that New Testament Christians have few or no particular directions about how we are to worship God corporately: what elements belong in worship, what elements must always be present in well-ordered worship, what things do not belong in worship.

He later adds,

Evangelicals do think that worship matters, but they also often view worship as a means to some other end than that of the glorification and enjoyment of God: some view worship as evangelism (thus misunderstanding its goal); some think that a person’s heart, intentions, motives, and sincerity are the only things important in how we worship (thus downplaying the Bible’s standards, principles, and rules for worship), and some view the emotional product of the worship experience as the prime factor in “good” worship (thus overstressing the subjective and often unwittingly imposing particular cultural opinions about emotional expression on all worshipers). Evangelicals believe these things about worship, but they do not think that there are many biblical principles about how to worship or what we are to do and not to do in worship.

Describing prevailing assumptions within contemporary evangelicalism, he concludes,

Not surprisingly, these assumptions help an evangelicalism enveloped in a culture of individualism, relativism, and situationalism remain, in its approach to the gathered worship of God’s people, strong on the individual, weak on the corporate; strong on the subjective, weak on the objective; strong on the heart, weak on the principles.

In summary, many churches affirm that worship is important but show little concern for what God himself says about it. Worship is often detached from God’s Word, as if Scripture offers no instruction. Those familiar with the Old Testament know that God gave detailed commands regarding worship. Yet today, some assume that Christian liberty under the new covenant means God no longer regulates how we worship so long as our motives are sincere and our emotions are engaged.

But what did Jesus say to the Samaritan woman? “God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4:24). To worship in truth implies an objective standard. There is a right way and a wrong way to worship him.

Freedom for Worship, Not Autonomy

God does care how we worship him. This is obvious in the Old Testament. In Exodus 25, God has just delivered Israel from slavery in Egypt, and he always attached a purpose to their freedom. It was never, “Let my people go because freedom is good,” or “Let my people go so they can do whatever they like.” It was, “Let my people go, that they may hold a feast to me in the wilderness” (Exodus 5:1). In other words, let my people go, that they may worship me.

The same is true when God saves a person. He does not say, “I saved you; now you are free to do whatever you like.” He says, “I saved you; now you are free to worship me.” In Romans 6, Paul writes,

Thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. (Romans 6:17–18)

Once Israel is freed, God begins establishing how they will worship him, beginning with the tabernacle:

The LORD said to Moses, “Speak to the people of Israel, that they take for me a contribution. From every man whose heart moves him, you shall receive the contribution for me. … And let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell in their midst. Exactly as I show you concerning the pattern of the tabernacle, and of all its furniture, so you shall make it.” (Exodus 25:1–2, 8–9)

God did not free his people to worship however they pleased. He gave detailed instructions, laid out over the next fifteen chapters. Even in this brief passage, we see three aspects of worship: motivation, goal, and standard.

First, the motivation. Worship must be willing. “From every man whose heart moves him you shall receive the contribution” (Exodus 25:2). God has never desired empty ritual. He wants the heart. Even as we consider standards and commands, we must remember that worship is not merely duty but delight in worshiping him as he directs.

Second, the goal. “Let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell in their midst” (Exodus 25:8). The aim of worship is communion with God. Unlike lifeless idols, the living God dwells with his people.

Third, the standard. “Exactly as I show you concerning the pattern of the tabernacle … so you shall make it” (Exodus 25:9). God would use the people’s resources and craftsmanship, but the design was his. They were not free to improvise. He prescribed both the structure and its use.

Some argue that God was strict about worship under the Mosaic covenant, but that things are different under the new covenant. For some, this stems from unfamiliarity with Scripture. For others, the claim is more nuanced. They argue that tabernacle worship was tied to types and shadows fulfilled in Christ. Hebrews shows that Christ fulfills the tabernacle’s structure and purpose. Therefore, while the tabernacle offers principles, they argue we are no longer bound by positive commands regarding how to worship.

Is that true? Even if Christ fulfilled the types and shadows of old covenant worship, was the tabernacle the only time God gave his people a standard for worship?

Cain, Abel, and God’s Standard Before the Law

In Genesis 4, we read about Cain and Abel, the second generation after creation, long before God gave ceremonial laws through Moses.

Now Adam knew Eve his wife, and she conceived and bore Cain, saying, “I have gotten a man with the help of the LORD.” And again, she bore his brother Abel. Now Abel was a keeper of sheep, and Cain a worker of the ground. In the course of time Cain brought to the LORD an offering of the fruit of the ground, and Abel also brought of the firstborn of his flock and of their fat portions. And the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering he had > no regard. So Cain was very angry, and his face fell. (Genesis 4:1–5)

Both brothers bring offerings to the Lord as an act of worship. Yet “the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering he had no regard” (Genesis 4:4–5).

Some suggest God rejected Cain because of what he offered. Perhaps he did not bring his firstfruits. But the greater issue appears to be his heart. He quickly becomes angry and eventually murders his brother, revealing deep corruption within. Hebrews tells us, “By faith Abel offered to God a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain,” implying that Cain’s offering was not made in faith (Hebrews 11:4). John writes that Cain’s deeds were evil, and Jude speaks of those who walk “in the way of Cain” (1 John 3:12; Jude 11). His motivation clearly fell short, and possibly the manner of his worship did as well.

Whatever the precise nature of the failure, this account shows that, from the earliest pages of Scripture, long before the Mosaic law, God either accepts or rejects worship. He has a standard.

We might ask, “How were Cain and Abel to know that standard without detailed instructions like those later given through Moses?” Scripture does not tell us. Perhaps God gave them explicit direction, not recorded for us. At minimum, they knew the seriousness of sin, that sacrifice was necessary to cover shame—since God clothed Adam and Eve with garments of skin—and that a Redeemer had been promised (Genesis 3:15). In any case, God held them accountable.

This shows that God’s concern for proper worship did not begin with Moses. Worship can be compared to marriage.

In Genesis 2, God establishes marriage, saying, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24). This is one man and one woman, united in covenant for life. Yet humanity quickly distorts that standard—polygamy, abandonment, concubinage, homosexuality. When God later gives his law through Moses, he addresses these practices and places restraints on them.

During Christ’s ministry, the Pharisees asked, “Is it lawful to divorce one’s wife for any cause?” (Matthew 19:3). They were thinking of Deuteronomy 24, where Moses regulated divorce to limit injustice. Jesus responded,

Have you not read that he who created them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh”? So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate. (Matthew 19:4–6)

He added, “Because of your hardness of heart, Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but from the beginning it was not so” (Matthew 19:8).

God’s standard for marriage existed from the beginning. He did not invent it in response to human failure. The same is true of the Ten Commandments. Exodus 20 was not the moment God decided that idolatry, Sabbath-breaking, or murder were wrong. These were always wrong. They reflect his character and are woven into creation itself.

That is true for marriage. It is true for the Sabbath. It is true for the moral law. And it is true for worship.

God held Cain accountable for unacceptable worship long before Moses because he already had a standard. We cannot argue that God cared about proper worship only during the era of the ceremonial law. The story of Cain and Abel shows that he cared and had a standard before the law of Moses.

The First Two Commandments and the Boundaries of Worship

Turn to Exodus 20 and consider what God says about worship in the Ten Commandments, particularly the first two:

And God spoke all these words, saying,

“I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.

“You shall have no other gods before me.

“You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments.” (Exodus 20:1–6)

These commands accomplish two things. First, they reveal who God is. Second, they instruct us how to think about him and how to worship him.

The first commandment teaches that there is only one God, and we must not divert our allegiance to another. “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3). This one God has the authority to prescribe true worship. As his creatures, we do not have the authority to redefine it.

The second commandment sharpens this point, stating, “You shall not make for yourself a carved image” (Exodus 20:4). This includes not only images of false gods but images of the true God. Deuteronomy 4 explains why:

Watch yourselves very carefully. Since you saw no form on the day that the LORD spoke to you at Horeb out of the midst of the fire, beware lest you act corruptly by making a carved image for yourselves. (Deuteronomy 4:15–16)

They saw no form. God did not reveal his appearance, and he forbade them from inventing one. However sincere their motives, they were not to go beyond what he had revealed.

God gives creativity and certain liberties, but he also sets boundaries. The boundary is his revelation. If he has not revealed something—his form, his will, his commands—we are not free to supply it ourselves.

These commands belong to the moral law, not merely the ceremonial system tied to the tabernacle. They flow from God’s character. Because he is eternal and unchanging, the standard they establish predates the ceremonial law and remains binding after Christ fulfills it. This is why John ends his first epistle with the warning, “Little children, keep yourselves from idols” (1 John 5:21).

God is the only true and living God, and he is jealous for his worship. Idolatry was wrong before the tabernacle and remains wrong after it. Even making an image of God to worship him is condemned. Why? Because it treats what is holy as common. If God did not reveal his form, and we attempt to depict it anyway, we imply that his revelation is insufficient.

In effect, the idolmaker says, “God did not show us what he looks like, but we need to see him, so I will represent him in wood or stone.” And God replies, “For the LORD your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God” (Deuteronomy 4:24). He warns of judgment for those who provoke him in this way.

Since idols exist for worship, these prohibitions relate directly to how God is to be worshiped. They show that worship is not a trivial matter.

Someone might object, “A Star Wars-themed worship service is not the same as idolatry.” Perhaps not in the same sense, but both must be evaluated by what God has revealed about himself and about how he is to be worshiped, and in light of the fact that he cares deeply about how he is worshiped.

Every night before we put the kids to bed, we have each of them pray. We encourage them to think first about what they’re grateful for and should thank God for, and second about petitions they want to make—that is, things to ask God for.

This won’t come as any surprise, especially from a five-year-old and a seven-year-old, but they never pray for anything we might call spiritual. All of their prayers are for material things.

For example:

• “God, thank you that I got to go to school today.”

• “God, please help me get over this cold and stop coughing.”

• “God, thank you for this new toy I got.”

• “God, help Papa get to Florida safely this week.”

If we’re honest, we tend to default to the same pattern, even as adults. When we pray, the most natural requests are for material needs rather than spiritual ones.

There’s nothing wrong with practical prayer requests. But when we study the prayers of the Bible, we find that many of them focus more on spiritual needs than on practical concerns.

The Emphasis of the Lord’s Prayer

Consider the model prayer in Matthew 6. Jesus teaches his disciples to pray like this:

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil. (Matthew 6:9–13)

If we break the Lord’s Prayer into its various petitions, we find seven distinct requests, though some are parallel:

1. Hallowed be your name.

2. Your kingdom come.

3. Your will be done.

4. Give us this day our daily bread.

5. Forgive us our debts.

6. Lead us not into temptation.

7. Deliver us from evil.

Of those seven petitions, how many concern material or practical matters?

Only one: “Give us this day our daily bread.”

When I read that sole material request, my mind goes to what Jesus said to the devil during his temptation in the wilderness. Quoting Deuteronomy 8, he said, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). Even as Jesus teaches us to pray for our material needs, he gives us reason to look beyond our physical needs to our greater spiritual needs.

In the Lord’s model for prayer, roughly six of the seven petitions concern spiritual matters. I’m not suggesting we calculate ratios every time we pray, nor that we must strictly follow this pattern in every prayer. Still, the proportion is instructive. Our spiritual needs will always be greater than our material needs, and the rest of Scripture confirms it.

Treasures That Last

Just after teaching his disciples how to pray, Jesus said,

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6:19–21)

Soon after, in the same sermon, he said,

Do not be anxious, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. (Matthew 6:31–33)

Jesus was not suggesting that we have no concern for material needs. He was teaching that our spiritual needs must take priority. In John 6, he went even further, saying, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you” (John 6:27).

In other words, do not be wholly consumed with food that perishes. Why? Because it perishes. It is temporal. From our food to our clothing to our homes and cars, even our health, none of it will last forever. So Jesus says, let your greatest treasure be in heaven. Seek first the kingdom of God because, in the end, it is all that will matter when material things are gone.

In Mark 8, Jesus says:

If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? (Mark 8:34–36)

Even if we could gain everything we ever wanted—all the money in the world and the best it could buy—what would it matter? Moses wrote, “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away” (Psalm 90:10).

At best, we might enjoy wealth and health for a few decades. But then what? What would it profit us to forfeit our souls for material prosperity we can only enjoy for a short time?

I believe it was Alistair Begg who said, “Hold material goods and wealth on a flat palm and not in a clenched fist.” That is essentially what the apostle Paul says near the end of 1 Corinthians 7:

The appointed time has grown very short. From now on, let those who have wives live as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing, and those who buy as though they had no goods, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away. (1 Corinthians 7:29–31)

Though that sounds contradictory, Paul’s point is that we should hold the present form of this world loosely. Do not grip it too tightly, because it will slip from our hands. The present form of this world is passing away. Its appointed time has grown very short.

The physical and material do matter, but not more than the spiritual and eternal. We see this reflected in the prayers of Scripture.

Prayers That Reveal the Heart

Let’s begin in 1 Kings 3. Solomon has become king in place of his father, David, and he feels overwhelmed by the responsibility. The Lord appears to him and says, “Ask what I shall give you” (1 Kings 3:5).

This seems like the perfect opportunity for practical requests. Lord, give the nation political stability. Grant us peace and prosperity. Help us fortify our walls; we have enemies all around us. Show me how to reform the tax system. If I put myself in Solomon’s place, I can imagine praying along those lines.

But that’s not what Solomon prays:

You have shown great and steadfast love to your servant David my father, because he walked before you in faithfulness, in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart toward you. And you have kept for him this great and steadfast love and have given him a son > to sit on his throne this day. And now, O LORD my God, you have made your servant king in place of David my father, although I am but a little child. I do not know how to go out or come in. And your servant is in the midst of your people whom you have chosen, a great people, too many to be numbered or counted for multitude. Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, that I may discern between good and evil, for who is able to govern this your great people? (1 Kings 3:6–9)

In essence, he says, “Lord, give me wisdom. You have entrusted me with this responsibility, but I need your help. I cannot do it on my own. I need your wisdom for your people’s sake.”

We’re then told:

It pleased the Lord that Solomon had asked this. And God said to him, “Because you have asked this, and have not asked for yourself long life or riches or the life of your enemies, but have asked for yourself understanding to discern what is right, behold, I now do according to your word. Behold, I give you a wise and discerning mind, so that none like you has been before you and none like you shall arise after you. I give you also what you have not asked, both riches and honor, so that no other king shall compare with you, all your days.” (1 Kings 3:10–13)

What did Jesus say? “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33). When our first concern is spiritual, God already knows our material needs. Solomon did not need to ask for prosperity or protection. The Lord knew what he needed and was pleased that Solomon’s heart was focused on his greater spiritual need.

Now consider Psalm 51, David’s prayer after his sin with Bathsheba. We might expect him to plead for a lighter sentence, for fewer consequences, or for the preservation of his public reputation. Instead, he prays,

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit. (Psalm 51:10–12)

He does not even pray for the preservation of his throne. He confesses his sin and asks for a pure heart.

Or think of Moses in Exodus 33 as Israel anticipates entering the Promised Land. We might expect him to ask the Lord to defeat future enemies, secure the land, and make it fruitful. Instead, he prays, “If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here” (Exodus 33:15).

It would be better to remain in the wilderness than to enter the Promised Land without the Lord’s presence. His primary concern is spiritual, not material. Without the Lord, prosperity would be worthless.

In the New Testament, Peter and John were arrested, threatened, and warned to stop preaching the gospel. After their release, they return to the church and pray. With their freedom, and possibly their lives, at stake, they do not ask God to subdue their enemies or change the political climate. They do not even ask for protection. They pray,

Sovereign Lord, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and everything in them, who through the mouth of our father David, your servant, said by the Holy Spirit,

“Why did the Gentiles rage,
and the peoples plot in vain?
The kings of the earth set themselves,
and the rulers were gathered together,
against the Lord and against his Anointed”—

for truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place. And now, Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus. (Acts 4:24–30)

After acknowledging God’s sovereignty over everything, including their suffering, they ask for boldness to keep preaching. That is their petition. Not safety. Not relief from persecution. Boldness.

Would it have been wrong to pray for protection? No. The Psalms include such prayers. But the focus of their prayer reveals the focus of their hearts. They are seeking first the kingdom of God. They are laying up treasures in heaven. They have “set [their] minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (Colossians 3:2).

Their physical safety is secondary to their faithfulness in preaching the gospel. Of course, they desire protection. No one wants imprisonment or worse. But as Jesus said, “The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good … for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks” (Luke 6:45). When the apostles opened their mouths to pray, their petition revealed that they treasured the spiritual more than the physical.

Praying With Eternity in View

We could go on. Scripture contains many examples of prayers like these. As you read the Bible, take notice of them. Let them shape the way you think about your own prayers.

Let’s meditate more on our spiritual needs as we pray.

• When we pray for physical healing, let’s also pray that we would trust the Lord in our afflictions and that he would use them for his glory.

• When we pray for provision, let’s also pray for contentment.

• When we pray for protection from persecution, let’s also pray for wisdom and boldness.

• When we pray for success at work, let’s also pray for humility.

May we seek first the kingdom of God, remembering that eternity is far longer than the seventy or eighty years we live on this earth, and that our spiritual needs will always outweigh our physical ones.

We’ve looked at English Baptist history through the 17th century and American Baptist history through the 18th century. In both cases, we reached the point in the timeline when Baptists finally had freedom. In England, their freedom came through the Act of Toleration in 1689. In America, their freedom gradually extended to the various states following the Revolutionary War.

This leaves us with another 200 years of Baptist history, which may sound simple enough. But what happens in the Baptist story after complete religious liberty is granted?

If we count only the Baptist denominations worldwide that still exist, the total comes to possibly 80 distinct groups. If we include smaller national or regional bodies and the many short-lived splinter groups over the last two centuries, the number may rise to 500 Baptist denominations.

In other words, the Baptist story over the last 200 years is complicated. I’ve mentioned before that once people—that is, fallible, sinful descendants of Adam—are given complete freedom, proponents of state-enforced religion are given the opportunity to say, “I told you so.” Without external guardrails, people are no longer prohibited from believing anything and everything. Freedom has a cost. Yet, as we’ve seen, without freedom, the cost can be true worship of God. Without freedom, Baptists could not maintain the biblical model of a regenerate church membership consisting only of genuine believers.

Attempting to cover the totality of Baptist history across these two centuries is nearly impossible. Instead, we will follow a particular stream of Baptist life: the Particular Baptists, better known in America as the Regular Baptists. These were Baptists who held to a Reformed, Calvinistic understanding of salvation, a high view of God’s sovereignty, and a confessional identity—namely, adherence to the 1689 Second London Confession.

There are two reasons for focusing on this stream. First, in both England and America, they were what we might call mainline Baptists. They became foundational to the Baptist movement in the 17th century, were among the first to restore baptism by immersion, and produced the most enduring Baptist confession, the 1689 Confession. Especially in early America, they essentially were the Baptists. It took more than 200 years for General or Arminian Baptists to establish a significant presence.

Second, if you happen to be a Reformed Baptist like myself, their story is our story. We hold the same core convictions and the same confession. We are the theological and ecclesiological descendants of the Particular Baptists, and it is fitting to understand our own family history.

The Rise of Hyper-Calvinism

The Baptists now had freedom, and you might expect that this would lead to prosperity and growth. Instead, by the middle of the 18th century, in England, the Particular Baptist churches were in severe decline. By 1750, it’s been estimated that approximately one-third of their churches had disappeared. Baptist leaders described this period as a “melancholy day.” Andrew Fuller later remarked that if the trend had continued, the Baptists would have become “a very dunghill in society.”

What happened? They had grown during decades of persecution, so why did they stagnate once they had freedom? The short answer is Hyper-Calvinism.

The Particular Baptists held a high view of God’s sovereignty. In the Second London Confession, they wrote that “God hath decreed in himself, from all eternity, by the most wise and holy counsel of his own will, freely and unchangeably, all things whatsoever comes to pass,” yet without becoming the author of sin. Regarding salvation, they also confessed that, “By the decree of God, for the manifestation of his glory, some men … are predestinated, or foreordained to eternal life through Jesus Christ, to the praise of his glorious grace.”

They believed in man’s utter depravity, God’s unconditional election of his people, and that no one can be saved unless God does a gracious work in the heart. As Ephesians 2 says, we are born “dead in … trespasses and sins” (Ephesians 2:1). Without God granting faith and making us alive together with Christ, we will not turn to him on our own. Romans 3 likewise says, “No one seeks for God” (Romans 3:11).

All of that is true and biblical. However, it is possible to carry the doctrines of grace too far, as in Hyper-Calvinism.

Hyper-Calvinism can be difficult to define because it has degrees. Some carried it further than others, and opponents of the doctrines of grace have often used the term to describe Calvinism in general. For our purposes, the focus is on the primary argument used by many Hyper-Calvinists in 18th-century England.

Many Particular Baptists began to reason that if an unregenerate sinner cannot believe on his own, then he does not have a duty to believe. Their logic was that duty implies ability; therefore, if there is no ability, there can be no obligation. The practical result was a near absence of evangelism. Some pastors would not even exhort the unconverted to repent or turn to Christ during Sunday preaching. Instead, a sinner was expected to examine himself for evidence that God had already saved him before any call to repentance or faith would be offered.

Several influences contributed to this environment. Even the influential Baptist theologian John Gill inadvertently reinforced aspects of the problem through his teaching on eternal justification. He held that God declared his elect righteous when he chose them before the foundation of the world. Though individuals would still need to come to faith in time, this emphasis shifted attention away from the necessity of believing the gospel for justification.

Using the image of a scale, Scripture requires that God’s sovereignty and human responsibility remain in balance. The Hyper-Calvinists tipped the scale heavily toward sovereignty while nearly removing human responsibility.

This was the theological climate among the Particular Baptists in England until Andrew Fuller emerged in the latter half of the century.

Andrew Fuller and the Recovery of Evangelistic Duty

Fuller had grown up in this Hyper-Calvinist context, and as a young man, he was troubled by it. He was often convicted of his sin and wanted to be saved, yet he was afraid to pray to that end. He had been taught that a sinner is utterly helpless until God chooses to save him, so he hesitated to ask the Lord for salvation, fearing that doing so would undermine God’s sovereignty.

He eventually came to faith, but this theological environment followed him into his ministry. For years, he was reluctant to address the unconverted from the pulpit. He would not exhort them to repent or believe because he thought that would compromise God’s sovereignty. Yet this increasingly troubled him. It did not match what he saw in Scripture, where Christ and the apostles preached the gospel indiscriminately and called all people everywhere to repent and believe. As Fuller read Jonathan Edwards, John Bunyan, and John Owen, he began to suspect that the Particular Baptists in England had drifted off course.

Hyper-Calvinists argued that it made no sense to command a person to do something he was incapable of doing. Fuller responded that the issue was not that sinners cannot, but that they will not.

He illustrated the difference by comparing moral inability with physical inability. It would be unreasonable to command a person to flap his arms and fly because he lacks the natural ability to do so. But the duty to believe in Christ is more like commanding a man to love his neighbor even though he despises him. He has the physical capacity to speak kindly and act justly. If brought before a judge, he could not excuse himself by saying he lacked the ability simply because he did not want to obey. The problem is not the faculty’s inability but the unwillingness of the heart.

In other words, a sinner’s inability to repent and believe is not an excuse; it is the very offense for which God holds him accountable. Therefore, all people have a duty to repent and believe, and ministers should exhort the unconverted accordingly. As Scripture says, “many are called, but few are chosen” (Matthew 22:14). The gospel is to be proclaimed to all, even though only God grants saving faith.

Fuller brought God’s sovereignty and human responsibility back into proper balance, especially through his 1785 work The Gospel Worthy of All Acceptation. This shift reshaped Particular Baptist thinking about evangelism. They moved from minimal outreach to a robust theology of evangelism, recognizing that God’s sovereignty does not hinder the Great Commission but ensures its success. Christ himself grounded the command to make disciples in his authority: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations … and behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:19–20).

This renewed conviction led to the formation of the Baptist Missionary Society (BMS) in 1792. If sinners have a duty to believe the gospel, then the church has a duty to proclaim it. Because Baptist churches were independent, they lacked a unified structure for organizing support. BMS enabled representatives to gather funds from churches, much like Paul’s collections, and ensure that missionaries received the resources they needed.

Not everyone agreed with this direction. Pockets of Hyper-Calvinism remained, and at one meeting a preacher reportedly rebuked Fuller, telling him to sit down and insisting that if God intended to save the heathen, he would do so without human aid.

Nevertheless, the broader movement had shifted. Most Particular Baptists now embraced a renewed emphasis on evangelism.

William Carey and the Missionary Partnership

This is where William Carey enters the story. Andrew Fuller remained in England, handling administrative work and raising financial support, while Carey became the society’s first missionary. Carey told Fuller, “I’ll go to India and make disciples, if you’ll stay here and hold the ropes.” In other words, he would go down into the mine, but he needed Fuller’s support to hold the rope.

In 1800, Krishna Pal became the first Hindu convert under Carey’s efforts.

Fuller and the Baptist Missionary Society went on to help translate the Bible into more than forty languages. They also played an instrumental role in opposing and helping end practices such as child exploitation in parts of Asia, in addition to the many people converted through their missionary work. This widespread impact was made possible through the cooperative efforts of many independent churches.

From Congregationalist Missionaries to Baptist Support

The Baptists were not the only ones committed to missionary work at this time. In America, the Congregationalists formed their own missionary organization, and in 1812, they sent missionaries to India, including Adoniram Judson, his wife Ann, and Luther Rice.

A trip from America to India was about a four-month voyage. Both the Judsons and Rice, on separate ships, already knew about William Carey, the Baptist missionary in India. Anticipating possible debate over baptism, they spent the voyage studying their Greek New Testaments so they could defend infant baptism against believer’s baptism.

Instead, as they prepared to argue against the Baptists, they became convinced that the Baptists were correct.

This created immediate complications. Ann Judson was as devoted a Congregationalist as her husband had been. In fact, when Adoniram sought her father’s blessing to marry her, he had written that they intended to go into the world and make Congregationalists of all nations. They had been married only two weeks before departing for India. Now he had to tell his new wife that he had become a Baptist. She did not initially receive the news well, though she eventually came to the same convictions.

A second problem quickly followed. If they were now Baptists, their Congregationalist supporters in New England would no longer provide financial support, leaving them effectively stranded.

When they arrived, they found Luther Rice, who had independently reached the same conclusion during the voyage. Together they made a plan. First, they sought out Carey and his associates in order to be baptized. Then the Judsons would continue on to Burma while Rice returned to America to seek support from Baptist churches.

This created yet another challenge. At the time, there was no national Baptist denomination in America and no centralized missionary organization. Baptist churches were independent and scattered. How could Rice raise support efficiently?

Rice’s account of God’s providence proved compelling. Churches quickly rallied together to form what became known as the Triennial Convention, named for its three-year meeting cycle. Delegates from northern, southern, and middle states participated, and the Judsons received the financial backing they needed.

Judson’s work in Burma was extraordinarily difficult. The environment was hostile to Christianity. He was imprisoned and, at times, tortured. He spent long hours discussing the gospel with Buddhist scholars who acknowledged the reasonableness of his arguments, yet still refused to believe.

He also endured deep personal loss. He buried his children, and eventually, his wife Ann died. For the first six or seven years, he saw no converts. Many would have returned home under such conditions. What sustained him was his conviction regarding God’s sovereignty.

Calvinist theology has often been accused of undermining evangelism, and Hyper-Calvinism sometimes did. For Judson, however, confidence in God’s sovereign purpose strengthened his perseverance. He had a low view of his own abilities and did not consider himself a particularly gifted missionary, yet he believed God must have a people in that place.

Like Paul in Corinth, who was told, “Do not be afraid, but go on speaking and do not be silent, for I am with you … for I have many in this city who are my people,” Judson continued preaching Christ despite visible resistance (Acts 18:9–10). He trusted that God would give the increase in his own time if he remained faithful in planting the seed.

While others might have concluded that Burma was a place where nothing could be accomplished, Judson remained convinced that the Lord would work, and in time he began to see that work unfold.

Opposition Movements and Renewed Definition

The Baptists in America had organized for missions at home and abroad, but during the first half of the 19th century, several opposition movements arose, complicating the situation.

First, the revivalist preacher Charles Finney adamantly opposed Calvinism. At this point, the vast majority of American Baptists were still Calvinists, so in many ways, he was challenging Baptist identity. He especially rejected the doctrine of total depravity, believing that everyone is equally capable of coming to Christ by an act of free will. Unlike Judson in Burma, Finney concluded that if an evangelist was unsuccessful, the solution was to change methods. He introduced the “anxious bench,” placed at the front of the church, where those under conviction would come, and he would press them to make a profession of faith.

A second group growing in influence was the Free Will Baptists. Though distinct from Finney’s movement, they shared certain similarities. Finney argued that everyone can choose to come to Christ; the Free Will Baptists emphasized that God wants everyone to come. Both groups were seeing rapid numerical growth, which made the Regular Baptists appear passive and even negligent in evangelism, creating pressure within their ranks.

In response, the Regular Baptists drafted and published the New Hampshire Confession in 1833. Often described as “mildly Calvinistic,” it retained the doctrines of grace and a strong affirmation of God’s sovereignty while placing clearer emphasis on human responsibility. It stressed the church’s duty to preach the gospel to all people. The intent was to maintain the theological foundation of the Particular Baptists while demonstrating renewed commitment to evangelism in the face of criticism.

At the same time, a third group was gaining traction among the Regular Baptists. This group opposed the Triennial Convention and most forms of organized missionary work and would eventually be known as the Primitive Baptists.

Their stated objection was that missionary societies lacked explicit warrant in Scripture and represented a human innovation. Yet there are biblical passages—such as Acts 13, where the church in Antioch formally set apart Paul and Barnabas for missions, and 2 Corinthians 8, where Paul coordinated support among multiple churches—that demonstrate principles of cooperative gospel work, even if the exact organizational forms differed in the 19th century.

Beneath their formal objections were additional motivations. One was a more extreme form of Hyper-Calvinism. Daniel Parker, a prominent critic of missionary societies, argued that humanity consisted of two fixed groups, children of God and children of the devil, unchanged since the fall. In that framework, evangelism was unnecessary. When God sovereignly brought one of his people to life, that person would find the church without missionary effort. Most Primitive Baptists did not go that far, but they generally held views that minimized the perceived need for organized missions.

A second underlying concern was the perceived greed of missionaries. In poorer rural congregations, visits by representatives seeking financial support often elicited suspicion and resentment.

As a result, while the Regular Baptists were feeling pressure from the Free Will Baptists’ emphasis on evangelism, their churches and associations were simultaneously fracturing as Primitive Baptists argued that organized missionary efforts were unbiblical.

Another movement soon added further disruption: the Campbellites. Alexander Campbell opposed existing missionary structures but did not merely separate. He sought to reconstruct the church from the ground up. He rejected the Second London Confession and any terminology not found explicitly in Scripture, including terms such as “Trinity” or “effectual calling,” which he dismissed as the “language of Ashdod,” referencing Nehemiah’s description of the Jews mixing their language with that of the Philistines.

In discarding centuries of theological formulation, he altered key doctrines. He reduced faith to mental assent to the historical facts about Jesus and taught that baptism itself was the moment of regeneration and salvation. His slogan, “no creed but the Bible,” proved compelling to many, and additional Baptist churches fractured as a result. Over time, these groups were disfellowshipped and became known as the Disciples of Christ and the Churches of Christ.

Despite the turmoil, these controversies produced constructive effects among the remaining Regular Baptists. Finney and the Free Will Baptists renewed urgency regarding evangelism. The challenge from the Primitive Baptists forced a clearer recommitment to the work of missions. The rise of the Campbellites reinforced the importance of a robust, clearly defined confessional theology. These themes—evangelistic zeal, cooperative missions, and doctrinal clarity—would continue to shape Baptist life in the years that followed.

I’ll provide only a few examples.

Holding the Line and a Reformed Baptist Resurgence

First, we have John Dagg, a blind and physically frail man who could barely speak above a whisper. In 1857, he wrote Manual of Theology, rigorously defending the doctrines of grace and historic orthodoxy. His work had a significant influence on the newly established Southern Baptist denomination and helped keep it grounded in sound theology, at least for a time.

Second, we have Charles Spurgeon in London. When he opened the Metropolitan Tabernacle in 1861—essentially a megachurch that stood in contrast to the prevailing Hyper-Calvinism and anti-evangelism of the day—his first sermon series focused on the doctrines of grace. Later, as English Baptists began drifting from orthodox Christianity and questioning the authority of Scripture, Spurgeon held his ground. His church was eventually forced to leave the Baptist Union. As Spurgeon insisted, peace could not be made with error.

Throughout the 20th century, both English and American Baptists continued to experience a drift toward Modernism. By this, I mean the growing tendency to accept the world’s criticism of Scripture. When the world claimed that God could not have created the universe in six days, liberal Christianity often responded by reinterpreting the creation account as symbolic. When the resurrection was questioned, some redefined it as merely spiritual. In effect, the authority of Scripture was set aside, and Christianity was increasingly reduced to a movement focused primarily on temporal social concerns.

From individual churches to entire denominations and seminaries, confessional commitments were often abandoned, and evangelism was reframed around social reform more than the salvation of sinners. Even so, within Baptist life, there remained a remnant of Dagg- and Spurgeon-like figures who continued to call churches back to their Particular Baptist roots.

By the mid-20th century, what could be described as a Reformed Baptist resurgence began to take shape. Both independent Baptist churches and congregations within established bodies such as the Southern Baptist Convention resisted Modernism and deliberately reclaimed their historical confessional identity. Many bypassed the New Hampshire Confession and other later summaries in favor of formally adopting the 1689 Second London Confession.

In doing so, they returned to the period when Baptist theology had been most carefully defined, while also learning from the errors of Hyper-Calvinism and the anti-missionary movement. They retained a clear commitment to evangelism and missions alongside their renewed confessional convictions.

With this resurgence came a renewed emphasis on the historic Baptist distinctives that had marked the Particular Baptists from the beginning: orthodoxy, regenerate church membership, believer’s baptism, the sovereignty of God in salvation, confessional identity, the authority of Scripture, and a sustained commitment to evangelism.

Our Challenge in the 21st Century

Here is the challenge of Reformed Baptists in the 21st century. We now enjoy the hard-fought religious freedom secured by our Baptist forefathers, but will we succumb to the pressures of this world to abandon “the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints,” or will we hold the line? (Jude 3). Will we remain dedicated to the robust biblical theology of the 17th-century Particular Baptists? Will we remain committed to carrying out the Great Commission as fully as Andrew Fuller and William Carey? Better yet, will we allow our understanding of God’s sovereignty to fuel our evangelistic efforts as it did for Adoniram Judson?

It is unlikely that it will ever be fashionable to be a Reformed Baptist, but as we have seen, faithfulness has never depended on popularity, only conviction. As Charles Spurgeon said, “To be faithful to God in a world that is departing from Him is to be willing to stand alone, if need be.”