My hand shook almost uncontrollably. My neck stiffened, like it did sometimes when I got nervous, so that the turning of my head seemed like a punctuated jerking. When it was my turn, I almost stumbled the short distance to the table at the front of church and managed to put my full name on the page reserved for the latest signers. The penmanship was deserving of no gold stars, even at the fourth grade level. The signature would baffle any handwriting analyst, for it bore little resemblance to my normal flowing style.

   

It was the first Sunday of January, 1973. The place was Sioux Center, Iowa. The occasion was the annual installation of elders and deacons. It was my first induction as an elder. What made it so memorable was the manner in which it was done. Our pastor had the somewhat unusual notion that the signing of the Form of Subscription should be a public activity, in front of the assembled congregation. Naturally, then, he read the entire document for all to hear: “. . . we heartily believe and are persuaded that all the articles and points of doctrine contained in the Confession and Catechism of the Reformed church, together with the explanation of some points of the aforesaid doctrine made by the National Synod of Dordrecht, 1618–‘19, do fully agree with the Word of God.” What were all those points of doctrine? Did I know them well enough to sign an oath before God and before His people?

While I was still pondering, the pastor read on: “. . . we do not only reject all errors that militate against this doctrine . . . but . . . will neither publicly nor privately propose, teach, or defend the same . . . . and cheerfully submit to the judgment of the consistory, classes, or Synod . . . .”

I signed it that day, with no regrets, but with an unusual amount of fear and trepidation. So did my fellow office-bearers who were also first-timers. I don’t know about theirs, but my memory was seared as though a white-hot branding iron had creased my cerebellum.

Later that same spring Classis Chicago South forwarded an overture to Synod, advocating a revision to that Form of Subscription which I had just signed. Spurred on by a courageous individual who wanted a completely new form, classis argued that it was “the right and responsibility of the whole body of believers, to whom the Holy Spirit is given, to reflect upon and prayerfully seek the will of the Spirit concerning any proposed changes or amendments of our doctrinal standards.” If an officeholder had serious difficulties with any point of doctrine, they reasoned, his right to freedom of speech was drastically throttled by the present Form. Even though he had flied an official gravamen, he might neither publicly nor privately air his views and present his case, except within the confines of the consistory, classis, or Synod. Such restrictions minimized the wisdom of the membership and bottled up the Holy Ghost. Furthermore, such procedure smacked of hierarchicalism, which was both contrary to the best Reformed thought and certainly anathema to good old American democracy.

Synod in 1973 bought the argument and gave provisional approval to the revisions, which would give an office holder the right to discuss and defend his contrary views in public, provided that he did n9t project them into his preaching and bad previously presented them to his consistory. It seemed the right thing to do, particularly in light of the successes of the counter-cultural revolution and the anti-establishment mentality which had succeeded in removing the United States from the mire of Vietnam. The general populace must have the right to hear and weigh the issues, even if the official decisions would still be made in ecclesiastical assemblies. A little bit of people pressure could only improve the process.

But later Synods balked. Two subsequent sessions refused to be persuaded, so the amendment was never ratified, and the Form which was first adopted in 1857 remains essentially unchanged to this day. A document “that seems to underpin all others, but seems to concern only a few” (see Banner, 12/28/87, p. 7) has been signed by all those who have held or are holding ecclesiastical office in the Christian Reformed Church. Yet few of them appear to take it seriously. In a recent conversation, a friend of mine ridiculed my concern by insisting that everyone is violating it, so why get upset when some one individual does. Such logic might be fitting for a junior high student who wants to go on a date, but it also would lead us to condone all manner of heinous sins. We should never justify evil by citing its prevalence, nor should we declare our intention to violate the law in the absence of its enforcement.

If Senator Teddy Kennedy wrote an editorial for The Boston Herald in which he recommended that his state’s electorate vote Republican, the Central Committee of the Democratic Party would ride him out of office over a narrow bridge. If Lee Iacocca went on television and did commercials for General Motors, his Board of Directors would remove him from his office post-haste. Even if he had argued, in closed executive session, that General Motors had a superior drive-train assembly and that Chrysler should modify theirs accordingly, he would have no right to use the power of his position to persuade the public.

I know of more than one set of parents who frequently send mixed messages to their children. The father will lay down a set of regulations governing the children’s behavior, but the mother will quickly contradict the rules in the children’s presence and condone what was just condemned. In one home the mother and father will openly disagree and quarrel in front of the children, with each of them enticing the children to side with his or her position.

Such children are to be pitied. Almost inevitably they are confused, but that confusion quickly becomes manipulation, divisiveness, and open rebellion. A family simply cannot be told to go in different directions simultaneously without doing irreparable emotional and spiritual harm. The family of God is no different.

In ecclesiastical matters, the importance of this loyalty is of even greater significance. We not only made a pledge to a Board of Directors and to the mass of potential consumers. We made a solemn vow to God in front of all His people. We said to Him that we “heartily believe” all the points of doctrine to fully agree with His Word. We said that we would defend all of those doctrines and reject all those who sought to undermine or diminish them.

Now, if we suddenly decide that it is permissible to teach contrary to them, one of several possible conclusions must be reached:

1. Our word is unreliable and we are no longer to be considered as trustworthy; or 2. The doctrines must be changed in light of some new, previously unknown truths which take precedence over both the confessional statements and the Word of God on which they were founded; or 3. The Word of God is no longer reliable, since it was written by culturally-conditioned authors who were writing to a culturally-conditioned audience; or 4. There is a new, refined, and yet mysterious way of reading the Scriptures (a new hermeneutic, the pros call it) which gives a whole new meaning to its content.

No matter which conclusion we draw, the organization is in serious trouble. If its leaders are no longer reliable, trustworthy men, the parishioners will wander, drift, and lose their way, for they will no longer be able to recognize the Master’s clarion call to “Follow Me!” The sheep will hear first one message, then another, and will no longer know whom to believe. When that happens, they will be ready to follow almost anyone, for it is inherent in the nature of man to believe in someone. If we draw conclusion number two, the unity of the church will be shattered, for the very forms under attack are the glue that has held us together for these last four centuries. The oneness for which Christ so passionately prayed in John 17, and the bodily harmony which Paul so eloquently illustrated in Romans 12, I Corinthians 12, and Ephesians 4, will be jeopardized to the point that we again embrace congregationalism at best and democratic individualism at worst.

If the third conclusion is where we stop, the very foundation of our faith will have been undermined. Our only guide for faith and practice will become an historical relic which should be taken off the pulpit and the bedstand and be placed in the archives. The pillar and ground of the truth will become the object of scholarly analysis, but will no longer function as Sola Scriptura, that open, perspicuous set of spectacles which John Calvin and all the reformers since had said was clear to the understanding, for both the clergy and laity.

We all know what will happen if the fourth conclusion is reached. We have lived there for lo at least fifteen years. To the Grand Rapids Press it might be amusing and worthy of editorial comment. To the hostile world around us, it may even be occasion for glee. To the insider, however, the situation is confusing at best. Threats of schism persist Synods revise the church order with such rapidity that the average pew sitter no longer bothers to study the rules which were probably changed twice since the last publication. Unable to tolerate confusion, increasing numbers of members migrate to other denominations where the preacher makes them feel secure and where two services are first even planned. Revolving door evangelism becomes a practiced art, bringing new converts in the front while the old-timers quietly slip out the back, thereby making room for even more. Discipline is rarely understood and seldom used, for fear that even more will find excuse to escape.

Among the marks of the true church are the pure preaching of God’s Word and the faithful exercise of church discipline. If the ministers no longer treat that Word as the clear, timeless, authoritative, infallible revelation of the sovereign, omniscient God of the universe, then the church can only expect to drift and atrophy to the point of impotence. If the officers of the church no longer insist on loyalty from its leaders, then we will be inviting chaos and increasing confusion.

If we want “free speech” as our courts are inclined to interpret it, then we also invite the moral and ethical decay which comes when everyone is at liberty to believe and practice that which is right in his own eyes.

If we want to regain some of the clarity of vision, the strength of commitment, then we ought to insist that all of our officers mean what they say and say what they mean. Those who speak with forked tongue or come with contrary teachings should not be entrusted with leadership positions. Those were the decisions of Synod in 1974 and 1976. Until those decisions are rescinded or revised, they should be considered settled and binding.

In the meantime, it might be an excellent idea to read the Form of Subscription in front of the whole assembly and then to ask each new officer to sign that statement in public. The knees might knock, and the pen might palpitate, but the church will be stronger for it.

Norman De Jong is a professor at Trinity Christian College, Palos Heights, Illinois.