There and Back Again

There and Back Again

~A Disciple’s Tale  ~ Part 1 ~

By Mark Mulnix

I am a covenantal Baptist. A month ago I was a confused Baptist. I spent the previous two years on an adventure, backpacking my way through the upper glories of Mount Grace. I spent several months in a well outfitted Presbyterian camp. It was there I made new friends and sent invitations to old ones. Sunrises and evening light looked fresh from their valley. But I’ve spent my life on this mountain and never had I envied those old baby baptizers before. I saw a robust beauty in their faith and I figured I wanted it too. What changed? Suddenly I was considering myself one of them, and might have never returned. Only, as quick as I’d been enchanted, I got shaken awake. Someone spun me around and showed me that what I longed for was waiting back at the start. Except it wasn’t really at the start. Oh, it was the same location, but it was the conclusion, not the beginning—that’s a different thing entirely. You can’t stay at the starting line and say that you ran the relay. My journey finished back at the Baptist site, but no longer because of someone else’s conviction. This is where I’m meant to be—it just took a little adventure for me to come to that conclusion.

What follows is not an in depth discussion on baptism; nor is it a scholarly endeavor. And doubtless, over the years ahead, I will have to adjust for inconsistencies in my theology. Complex topics such as kingdom and covenant capture the imagination of each successive generation and one can scarcely scratch the surface before they must leave unfinished work to be taken up by others (Ecc. 2:21; 3:11). For comprehensive explanations and arguments I will refer you to real theologians.

My goal is to describe only my experience traversing God’s covenantal mountains, getting lost and rescued, and the memories I treasure from the peaks and valleys. You may think of it as my slideshow— just a few panoramas to give the sense of life on the mountain. So queue up the reading soundtrack, dim the lights, and cozy up at my campfire.

Abbreviations:

[New Covenant = NC] [Old Covenant = OC]

[New Testament = NT] [Old Testament = OT]

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THE TRAIL HEAD:

In the beginning I laughed a little every time I heard Chocolate Knox say, if you’re single get married, if you’re married have babies, if you have babies, baptize them. It didn’t bother me; it just made me chuckle.

Silly Knox, I said.

A few years later I wasn’t laughing anymore. I felt convicted to listen with open-handedness. I had to hike up that theological mountain and explore the sacramental lakes. I packed the Aeropress and Jetboil, my bag and Rayway tarp, Bible and journal, some SPAM, cheese, and Snickers. I had questions to sort, and there’s nothing for it like killing myself with beauty and wilderness. Get me above 8,000 feet with a smoky campfire, water on the boil for a fresh cuppa, my pipe and pen, and I’m a happy boy. So off I went, unaware of what I was in for. I was just eager to learn and grow.

Autumn saw freezing temperatures earlier than usual that year. Heavy snow fall obscured the trails, and in vain I sought for sign posts. Eventually, I encountered a wanderer who advised me to go down the path he’d blazed. I stepped into his wake, gaping at the path he cleared. When I turned back to interrogate him he was gone. It seemed I’d met with Providence. Following the man’s foot prints, I found Camp Wilson and settled in for a long winter.

The friends I found in that camp spoke at length on ecclesiology, the very thing I searched for. Their answers came hot like sparks off hearts ablaze with the Holy Spirit. They had a larger vision of God’s glorious grace than I thought possible, and used words like Household, Covenantal Joy, and Federal Vision. I was enraptured. They explained how baptizing their babies showed they trusted in God’s promises, not man’s understanding. “Ooh…This is what Knox was talking about! Now I see!” I began to understand and appreciate this new perspective. It was uncomfortable at first because I had to admit I was wrong. Later, admitting that I had been wrong was a source of pride, like, I WAS wrong, but NOW I know better.

I was won over. Those guys had a different definition of the NC, and once that was accepted all the dominoes collided. I agreed, we should baptize our babies calling them Christians, because they belong to a Christian household. Their faith, unity, and strong teaching were persuasive. But the first thing I noticed about the Presbyterians was their joy. They were a jolly lot, thick on hospitality.

-Wowed by Joy:

Joy oozed out of the community of paedobaptists I met. It was potent! I was mesmerized. I was wowed by their joy in God’s covenant.

Their preaching exuded the joy of God’s salvation. All the books they read, and wrote, were saturated with joy. Their expectation for what God had in store for their families was saturated with joy. Their podcasts, music, politics, cook books, documentaries, conventions and seminars were covered in joy. Everything they built seemed to me a beacon of joy in the glory of Christ Jesus, our Rock and Salvation! How?! Why?! As far as I could tell it was the brand of Covenant Theology they ascribed to—God is a covenant-making, covenant-keeping God, and they were cashing in on that fact. And it’s well known that “It is impossible to consistently hold to Covenant Theology without being a paedobaptist.” I wanted that kind of joy.

How was I going to know that joy without the faith it required?

-Backed into a Faithful Corner:   

Without faith it is impossible to please God. I want to please God—I want faith.

God told Noah, “Flood’s comin’, Noah. Build a boat.” And Noah built a boat.

God told Abram, “Move your family. Trust me, I’ll show you where on the way.” And Abram moved.

God told Abram, “Cut off your foreskin, you and all of your household. For I have promised a great blessing.” I may be wrong, but I imagine some in his house saying, You first! And what would you do? Hopefully you’d do what Abraham did—cut off your foreskin. That’s some kind of faith. But, when God speaks, we hear and obey. Obedience is the very best way to show that you believe. Without obedience there’s no faith; or again, where obedience is absent faith is absent.

If God’s promise to Abram was accompanied with a sign (circumcision), and that sign pointed to God’s faithfulness and the faith men had in God’s faithfulness, and if that sign was given to infants who by nature could not express faith, then I concluded God had given this mandate to show that He was going to guide who he wanted to guide into eternal life. He marked out His people without asking their permission. There was no need for every last individual to choose to join His covenant by their own faith. That decision was made by heads of households. All the father had to do was obey. Simple faith in action both followed and preceded blessings, for present and future generations.

Now, if that simple act of faith was required of Abraham’s descendants, then maybe I could follow his example today with baptism, if it’s the sign of the NC, like circumcision in the OC. After all, such types and shadows were used to teach about Christ Jesus and the church. This all sounded reasonable to me and I wanted to submit to God’s covenant with all the humility of father Abraham. I felt cornered by faith. I wanted to obey God.

By this point in my journey I had more than dipped my big toe in the water. I was up to my chest in Joy and Faith and (ironically) about to dip my head under. I realized that I would also have to contend with the great men of Christianity, who seemingly traced back to the first century. Their heads against mine? No contest.

-Against Giants:

How could I reject the conclusions drawn by so many giants of the faith? It’s concerning to know I stand against the minds of Augustine, Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, Owen, and Edwards. On the other hand, I thought I had Bunyan, Spurgeon, Tertullian, the Didache, and Justin Martyr on my side. Talk about a no win situation. How would I decide who’s right? I first considered the cohesiveness of their arguments.

Growing up Baptist, I knew what I’d find there. Hyper dispensationalists think all the covenants stood totally independent of each other. I rejected that. Reformed Baptists typically believe the NC is a new thing, and that it starts where the old one ends. The Old was law and grace; the New is all grace. They believe that while the church does have false confessors (unregenerate)  in it, the only true members of the NC are the elect (regenerate/new creation). Therefore, infallible as we are, we ought only to baptize those who call on the name of Jesus—not their posterity on account they were born into a Christian home. In a nutshell this is the credobaptism position, though many nuances exist.

Those arguing for paedobaptism made their case on the continuity of Scripture. All of God’s covenants were united by one essence—grace. God showed grace to Adam after his rebellion in the garden and that grace became an inexorable river, coursing through redemptive history until it eventually took on the form of a man, Jesus. Grace upon grace! To men such as Calvin grace is the substance of every covenant since the time of Adamt. The forms or external features changed, but the substance or essence was all of grace.

In other words, the administration (the guardians) of each covenant was the distinguishing factor, not the substance (God’s grace). This allowed them to conclude that what God instituted in previous covenants became normative in subsequent administrations, provided they weren’t explicitly abrogated. That is why animal sacrifices are not perpetual—Jesus was sacrificed once for all time. But giving the sign of the covenant to infants (since it was commanded) was normal under the OC. And God did not suddenly push the little ones away in the NT. Jesus was tender toward the little ones. The inclusion of children in the NT mirrored their inclusion in the OT. Again, covenantal inclusion of infants via a sign was normal in the OC; the principle isn’t abrogated; therefore, it remains normal and was expected in the NC. That’s continuity at work and I like seeing the Bible as a unified story. Sounded great to me.

Several years ago I was introduced to biblical theology at our church’s in house training program: Project 416, Doctrinal Foundations. BiOne aspect of bBblical theology serves to interpret the arch of redemptive history by tracing themes, and types and symbols throughout the entire Bible, within the Bible’s own historical contexts—rather than imposing modern theological systems. Having fallen in love with that paradigm, it was natural to embrace the work of covenant theologians, despite the ecclesiological implications. It seemed more cohesive. But it left me grappling with how I could remain a Baptist if God’s covenant included our children in the same way it had for Abraham’s. If our children are members of the NC how can we withhold baptism into that covenant? Shouldn’t I just trust that God will be pleased by my faith in His grace toward me and my children, and live in the joy of His salvation which is to a thousand generations?

Arguments from Continuity, sheer Faith, and solid Joy in the Lord had won me over. I thought I had listened to all the Baptist arguments. They didn’t seem to take apostasy verses seriously—warnings of apostasy fit the covenant-breaking pattern in the OT better than saying they only serve as a means to keep the elect from falling. I had weighed the case for progressive covenantalism and found it wanting. And is the definition of one word (baptism) sufficient to determine who should receive a sacrament? Credobaptists were putting all their eggs in lexical studies. I was putting mine in biblical studies. Thus I was fairly settled on the matter. But then something happened that I did not expect. I received a book recommendation from the most unlikeliest of places.

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…to be continued