Mark Driscoll apparently made a comment once something to the effect of it being ridiculous that people could sprinkle babies with a few drops of water and call it baptism. Let me make clear, though, that I can't verify he actually said that, and so by no means claim that he did—indeed, it would surprise me; I understand that the Acts 29 Network includes both paedo- and credo-baptist churches—but I know these sentiments exist (if you'd like to read something delightfully inflammatory, read this from Spurgeon on the "abomination" of infant baptism).

I grew up in paedo-baptist churches, and have long held to the conviction that infants should be baptized, although there was a period when I wrestled quite extensively with the question of who are to be the subjects of baptism. In the last few years, however, I have found my conviction that the infants of believers must be baptized strengthened, especially in light of the covenant. In volume four of his Reformed Dogmatics (yes, this will be an oft-quoted text on this blog), Herman Bavinck makes a number of arguments in favour of the baptism of children. I find his discussion of the relationship between baptism and the covenant particularly important:

The covenant of grace established with Israel, though it changed in dispensation, remained the same in essence. The church (ἐκκλησία, ekklēsia) has replaced the Israel of the Old Testament. It is now the people of God, and God is its God and Father (Matt. 1:21; Luke 1:17; Acts 3:25; Rom. 9:25-26; 11:16-21; 2 Cor. 6:16-18; Gal. 3:14-29; Eph. 2:12-13; Titus 2:14; Heb. 8:8-10; 1 Pet. 2:9; Rev. 21:3). As was the case in the Old Testament, so now too the children of believers are included among the people of God. The church of the New Testament, after all, is not a collection of individuals, but an organism, a body, a temple, and as such, as a people, it took the place of Israel. As wild olive shoots—since some of the branches of the old olive tree have been broken off—they have been grafted onto the trunk of the same olive tree and so share in the nourishing sap from its root (Rom. 11:16-17). Hence at times entire households converted to Christianity. The household itself is an institution of God, an organic whole, which shares in a common blessing or a common curse...[Peter] says that the promise of the old covenant that God would be the God of believers and their children passed into the dispensation of the New Testament (Acts 2:39) [528-529].

Bavinck goes on to note that children are sanctified by virtue of their parents, citing Paul's discussion of believing and unbelieving spouses in 1 Corinthians 7:14ff. He observes that when Paul speaks about the holiness children receive from a believing parent it is not a subjective and internal holiness, but a "theocratic kind of holiness." As such,

it teaches that the whole family is regarded in light of the confession of the believing spouse. The believer has the calling to serve the Lord not only for oneself but with all that belongs to oneself and with one's entire family. For that reason the children of believers are admonished by the apostles as Christian children in the Lord (Acts 26:22; Eph. 6:1; Col. 3:20; 2 Tim. 3:15; 1 John 2:13)...Scripture knows nothing of a neutral upbringing that seeks to have the children make a completely free and independent choice at a more advanced age. The children of believers are...children of the covenant and are holy, not by nature (Job 14:4; Ps. 51:5; John 3:6; Eph. 2:3) but by virtue of the covenant...The basis for baptism is not the assumption that someone is regenerate, nor even that [there is] regeneration itself, but only the covenant of God (529-531).

It is a significant point, I think, that in the New Testament we always see a heightening in the fulfillment of something from the Old Testament. That is the case with typology, for instance, and so it is the case with the covenant. The promises of the covenant are fulfilled in a much greater way in the New Testament. To restrict the promises of the covenant, then, to those who are able to make a verbal profession of faith, seems to be a regression and not a heightened fulfillment. In the Old Testament, if the promises of the covenant were to "you and your seed," how much more should they be in the New Testament and subsequent ages! Additionally, one's incorporation into the covenant is never an autonomous act, but always and only an act of God bringing that person into the covenant family.

Of course, this by no means exhausts the case for infant baptism, but for me it is the most powerful argument in favour of it. Thoughts?

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You would be hard-pressed to find something Herman Bavinck has written that is not rich in insight, cogent, and bursting with theological significance. Of course, this is an exaggeration (and a clear indication that I have not read everything Bavinck has written), but I find that almost every time I open one of his books and start to read him, my soul is fed.

One of the areas of theology that captures my interest most is ecclesiology. Bavinck makes much of the Church, as any good theologian should, given that it is in the Church that God joins His covenant people together, having called them to Himself and redeemed them. A couple of years ago, I remember coming across this passage on pages 280-281 in volume four of his Reformed Dogmatics, in which he gives wonderful expression to the organic unity of the Church.

All [local] churches are conceived of as one ἐκκλησία (ekklēsia) and described as the body, the bride, or the fullness (πλήρωμα, plērōma) of Christ.

This oneness of all the churches does not come into being a posteriori by the establishment of a creed, a church order, and a synodical system. Neither is the church an association of individual persons who first became believers apart from the church and subsequently united themselves. But it is an organism in which the whole exists prior to the parts; its unity precedes the plurality of local churches and rests in Christ. It is he who, continuing his mediatorial work in the state of exaltation, joins his churches together and builds them up from within himself as the head (Eph. 1:23; 4:16; 5:23; Col. 1:18; 2:19), gathers and governs it (John 10:16; 11:52; 17:20-21; Acts 2:33, 47; 9:3ff.), always remains with it (Matt. 18:20), is most intimately connected with it (John 15:1ff.; 17:21, 23; 1 Cor. 6:15; 12:12-27; Gal. 2:20), and dwells in it by his Spirit (Rom. 6:5; 8:9-11; 1 Cor. 6:15ff.; Eph. 3:17). The assertion that the universal ἐκκλησία precedes the local churches is correct in the sense that while it is not historically prior it is logically so. Every local church is the people of God, the body of Christ, built upon the foundation of Christ (1 Cor. 3:11, 16; 12:27), because in that location it is the same as what the church is in its entirety, and Christ is for that local church what he is for the universal church.

In the various local gatherings of believers, it is the one church of Christ that comes to expression. Its essence, both as it concerns the church as a whole and each of its parts in particular, is grounded in that it is the people of God (Rom. 9:25; 2 Cor. 6:16, 18; Titus 2:14; Heb. 8:10; 13:12; 1 Pet. 2:9-10), consisting of people who have committed themselves to the Lord and have turned to him (Acts 5:14; 14:15), who bear the name of disciples, brothers and sisters, chosen ones, called ones, saints, believers (Acts 1:15; 6:1; 9:1, 32; Rom. 1:7; 1 Cor. 1:2). In its broadest sense ἐκκλησία is the gathering of all the people of God, not only on earth but also in heaven (Heb. 12:23), not only in the past and present but also in the future (John 10:16; 17:20).

Bavinck is clearly talking here about the organic unity that lies at the very heart of the nature of the Church, speaking of the Church as God intended her to be. But I think there is a great deal of work to be done building on this foundation, both to understand what this unity would look like in reality and to begin to bring that unity to fruition. I have remarked before that the division and brokenness of Christ's Church grieves me so deeply that there are times I almost feel the effects of it physically. Although I recognize that we will never see this unity come to full expression before Christ returns, we are left with no excuse, on the one hand, to remain content in our division; neither, on the other hand, is it an excuse to force unity where there is none. There must be some way to make this organic unity more of a reality among the churches on earth.

To that end, I am thinking more and more that I should like to devote my life (or at least several years, initially) to begin the work of figuring this out. (On a side note, if someone over at Oxford, Edinburgh, the Free University of Amsterdam, or any other school is willing to pay me to do so, that would be even better).

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Cornelius Van Til argued that Reformed theology demanded a Reformed apologetic, one based on its doctrine of God and doctrines of grace. John Muether, in his excellent biography of Van Til, quotes him at length on this issue:

A generally evangelical apologetic to a large extent defeats its own purposes. True enough much good may be accomplished, both by an Arminian theology and by a generally evangelical method of apologetic. In this fact all who love the Lord will rejoice. But how much more good may be accomplished by the grace of God through a more consistently Biblical theology and a more consistenly Biblical apologetic. A generally evangelical apologetic does not drive the natural man down into a corner with no hope of escape. It does not track him down till he is at bay. It does not destroy his last shelter. His fire is not altogether extinguished...A plea for a vigorous apologetic ought therefore to be a plea for a genuinely Reformed apologetic. We may not be clear, indeed as to the full implications of a truly Reformed apologetic. But this fact does not justify us in refusing to point out those who, with us, love the Christian faith that a generally evanglical apologetic...is inadequate for any time and especially inadequate for our time.

Van Til's presuppositionalism reflected his debt to the theology of Herman Bavinck, who had written in the first volume of his Reformed Dogmatics years earlier:

Apologetics cannot precede faith and does not attempt a priori to argue the truth of revelation. It assumes the truth and belief in the truth. It does not, as the introductory part or as the foundational science, precede theology and dogmatics. It is itself a theological science through and through, which presupposes the faith and dogmatics and now maintains and defends the dogma against the opposition to which it is exposed.

...If Christian revelation, which presupposes the darkness and error of unspiritual humanity, submitted in advance to the judgments of reason, it would by that token contradict itself. It would thereby place itself before a tribunal whose jurisdiction it had first denied. And having once recognized the authority of reason on the level of first principles, it could no longer oppose that authority in the articles of faith.

Anyone with even a cursory knowledge of Van Til knows that the first thing he would do when entering a classroom is to draw the diagram you see at the left on the chalkboard. The two circle diagram was representative of the Creator-creature distinction, one which Van Til unapologetically (no pun intended) maintained was absolutely crucial to Christian thought. The two lines connecting the circles represented the covenantal relationship between God and man. Man, the creature, was always dependent on God, the Creator, and His revelation. The one circle on the left represented non-Christian thought, where any idea of "God" was rooted in the creature.

It was for this reason that apologetics could never have its foundation in any thought that rejected the Creator-creature distinction. No vague notions of reason would suffice, neither would the idea that Christians and non-Christians could find some sort of neutral ground from which to engage in apologetics. And so he devoted himself to working out an apologetic that honoured the relationship between God and man and rooted itself fully in the revelation of God. For Van Til, there simply was no other way.

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Regeneration, for Herman Bavinck, is not a matter of something entirely new being created within us, but instead is a re-formation of human nature to what it was originally intended to be. There is no new substance added to what is already there, he writes in the first chapter of volume four of his Reformed Dogmatics. He then extends the discussion to creation, and makes this profoundly important point:

Finally also the re-creation that will take place in the renewal of heaven and earth (Matt. 19:28) is not the destruction of this world and the subsequent creation out of nothing of another world but the liberation of the creature that is now subject to futility. Nor can it be otherwise, for God's honor as Savior hinges precisely on his reconquest from the power of Satan of this human race and this world. Christ, accordingly, is not a second Creator, but the Redeemer and Savior of this fallen creation, the Reformer of all things that have been ruined and corrupted by sin. Neither, for that matter, is sin a substance, but consists in lawlessness (άνομια); it is an actualized privation (privatio actuosa) that has indeed violated the form (forma) of the entire created world but did not and could not destroy its substance or essence. Hence, when the re-creation removes sin from creation, it does not deprive it of anything essential, nothing that was essentially and originally characteristic of it (though it was "by nature") and belonged to its essence. For sin is not part of the essence of creation; it pushed its way in later, as something unnatural and contrary to nature. Sin is deformity. When re-creation removes sin, it does not violate and suppress nature, but restores it.

This point cannot be made strongly enough, especially in evangelical circles where creation is often not of great concern. But the fact is, as Bavinck so clearly states, that if creation is not restored, sin gains victory and the Lordship of Christ is rendered null and void.

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It is not uncommon in the circles I travel in to see very rigid boundaries marked out as to what constitutes orthodoxy, those outside of the walls being excluded from fellowship with those inside. This sort of exclusivity that forces everyone else to think within your predetermined categories is not only absurd, it is sinful. Bavinck, from the fourth volume of his Reformed Dogmatics:

It [cannot] be denied that the endless divisions of the confessors of Christ offer the world an occasion for pleasure and scorn and give it reason for its nonbelief in the One sent by the Father, inasmuch as it does not see the unity of believers (John 17:21). As Christians we cannot humble ourselves deeply enough over the schisms and discord that have existed all through the centuries in the church of Christ. It is a sin against God, in conflict with Christ's [high-priestly] prayer [for unity], and caused by the darkness of our minds and the lovelessness of our hearts.

Given this, he writes, it is understandable that many Christians would make fervent attempts to unite the Church. However, this is then usually accomplished through violent means, or by some sort of syncretism and fusion. Ultimately, the power to bring the Church together as one does not reside with us.

The failure of all those attempts has something to teach us. History, like nature, is a work of God; it does not take shape apart from his providence. Christ, by his resurrection and ascension, became king at the right hand of God and will remain king until he has put all his enemies under his feet [1 Cor. 15:25]. He reigns also over the divisions and schisms of his church on earth. And his prayer for unity was not born of unfamiliarity with its history nor from his inability to govern it. In and through the discord and dissension, that prayer is daily heard and is led to its complete fulfillment. The profound spiritual sense in which the unity of his disciples was understood by Jesus necessarily excludes all violent and artificial attempts to introduce it. Christ, who prayed for it, is also the One—and he alone—who can bring it about. His prayer is the guarantee that it already exists in him and that in due time, accomplished by him, it will also be manifest in believers.

But while we know this to be true, it certainly does not give us an excuse to neglect seeking unity now. Our task is not to erect barriers, but to tear them down. Faithfulness to Christ requires it.

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