Is There Only One True Church? (Part 4)

(If you haven't read them yet, go back and read the first, second, and third installments of this series of essays.)

The third vein of argumentation which various denominations will lean upon to make their case as being the one true church is an experiential one. This is usually not the primary argument for any particular church; historical and biblical arguments often come first. But it’s not uncommon to hear appeals to the evident power of the Spirit of God in one’s communion—miraculous evidence that one would only expect to find in the true church of Jesus Christ.

And, truth be told, that is what you would expect to find. If the Gospels and Acts are to be believed, the presence of miraculous signs and wonders was one of the hallmarks of the life of the church, especially associated with the first proclamation of the gospel in a new area, thus demonstrating the supernatural power of God in their midst. If a church or communion is indeed the one true church, then that hallmark should still be visible, at least in some form. If it is not the one true church—if it is merely a delusion of heretics and schismatics—one would expect the Holy Spirit not to offer gospel-matching miracles in their midst.

As a student of church history and a lover of the church in all its forms, I have a long-running set of experiences across the spectrum of many different denominations. And here’s the peculiar thing: despite the very vocal claims of some communions to be the one true church, to the exclusion of others, what one actually finds is that miraculous experiences are associated with all churches grounded in the Bible and the core doctrines of the ancient faith. From Catholics to Eastern Orthodox to Copts to Baptists to Presbyterians to Pentecostals (and many more besides) we find that the mystery of the Spirit’s power working in the church, the narrative thread underlying the book of Acts, is still wending its way through the experiences of all sorts of Christians today.

But, one may ask, can this kind of self-reporting be trusted? We’re talking about miracle reports from people who believe in miracles, want miracles to happen, and are looking for them. Surely there’s a significant margin of error for confirmation bias! Well, yes, no doubt there’s a good deal of that. But there’s something quite striking about the Christian legacy of miracles nonetheless. This experiential element runs through the ages as a mark of Christianity, but does not appear nearly as frequently in other religious traditions—not even those traditions that emphasize miracle-stories in their founders’ lives and their holy texts. Miracles pop up all the time in Christianity in a way that is simply orders of magnitude beyond those of any other religious system, with the possible exception of shamanic religions and other faiths associated with direct contact with spiritual entities (and there Christians would have reason to expect miracles of a rather darker sort to indeed be present). A good argument on this point is made in Craig Keener’s magisterial study, Miracles, which looks at both the startling ubiquity and the reliability of Christian miracle reports, both ancient and modern.

Okay, the critic might say—but since we brought up the possibility of demonic “miracles” in shamanic religions, why can’t that be true of heretical Christian denominations as well? Maybe Satan would give such groups a few miracles in order to keep people away from the one true church. While this objection sounds persuasive at first, it really isn’t nearly as compelling on closer inspection. These other Christian denominations, which the critic spurns as heretical, in fact show significant evidence not only of dramatic signs-and-wonders-type miracles, but even more so of the kind of “ordinary” miracles that Satan would absolutely despise: lives transformed by the power of the gospel, addictions broken, marriages restored, lives bearing abundant evidence of the fruits of the Spirit, and glory given to Jesus Christ as Lord. That being the case, I don’t think it actually passes muster to say that Satan must be the one behind the flashier miracles.

On balance, if one were to judge from experiential evidence alone, it would appear that the Spirit is at work across the whole swath of faithful Christian denominations. Each tradition includes a very large set of supernatural experiences related to the inner life of the Christian, but it’s also common to find the grander supernatural occurrences of public miracles in each tradition as well. One of the curious features to me, though—and one that I don’t quite know what to make of—is that each tradition seems to receive the kind of miracles that they expect to receive. Bible-centered traditions like Baptists and Reformed churches see healings and deliverances in response to concerted prayer; Pentecostals see dramatic healings on command and ecstatic phenomena; Catholics see Eucharistic miracles and healings from relics; and Eastern Orthodox see myrrh-flowing icons. It’s interesting, isn’t it? The miraculous power of the Spirit appears to respond to those places where each particular Christian group is looking for his presence.

In any case, the experiential argument for there being only one true church has never seemed to hold up for me. Quite the contrary, it points in the opposite direction—that the Holy Spirit seems to regard the whole vast diversity of Christendom as the true church. If I were to try to convert based on the evidence of God’s supernatural power that I have actually seen at work in the church, I would have to convert to a Pentecostal church, the Roman Catholic Church, and an Eastern Orthodox church—all while also remaining Baptist! It seems to me, based on this observation and the ambiguity of the historical and biblical arguments, that it’s fairer to regard the whole Christian community as the church of Jesus Christ—all those who truly hold to the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints, as laid out in the scriptures.

Now, this still isn’t an open-and-shut case. Is it still possible that one of the biblical arguments is true, in exclusion of all other interpretations, and that one of the historical arguments is true, despite the paucity of evidence, and that some as-yet-unknown factor could explain the broad presence of miracles? Sure. But with an absence of evidence, it seems a little foolhardy to start jumping denominations before any clear answers appear. If there is only one true church, my prayer is (and always has been) that God would make it known to me, and if in his grace he grants that request, then I will drop everything and race to join the one true church. In the meantime, I’m content to grow where God has planted me.

The Evangeliad (30:13-15)

(Click here for an introduction and previous installments of the Evangeliad)

Section 30:13-15 (corresponding to Luke 14:18-20; Matt. 22:5)

But those who receive the word, do they come?

No, they make up excuses, every one.

Caught up in themselves and their busy lives,

They reject the King for their own enterprise.

'Tell the King,' says one, 'I've just bought a field;

I must go see it--my schedule won't yield!

Send my regrets to the King and his son,

But as for myself, I just cannot come.'

Another one says, 'It's livestock for me--

I just bought oxen, five yoke, don't you see?

I have to go now and examine the lot.

Have I time to go to a feast? I do not.'

Still another one says, 'I too cannot come

To the King's son's feast, for I just had one!

Yes, I'm married now, have a wife, you see,

And all of that means that I'm just not free.'

Is There Only One True Church? (Part 3)

(If you haven't read them yet, go back and read the first and second installments of this series of essays.)

Having considered historical arguments, we turn now to arguments from scripture. Like the historical arguments, though, we will see that the evidence called upon is ambiguous at best.

Most denominations will appeal to a broad alignment with the general shape of New Testament church practices, in effect arguing, "Our practice aligns closest to what the Bible portrays, and therefore we're the one true church." This is essentially the argument put forward by any Reformation or Restorationist churches that make the claim, and one could say that the Orthodox also fall into this camp at times. While the Orthodox tend to lean more heavily on the historical argument (as their current promotional shtick puts it, "We are the church founded by Jesus Christ...we are not non-denominational, we are pre-denominational"), they would draw on biblical arguments to distinguish themselves from Protestants on issues like church hierarchy. They would point out, for instance, that three distinct offices are mentioned in the New Testament, exactly matching the tripartite division of clerical orders which apostolic churches have always held: bishops, priests, and deacons.

This argument is a good case study for us, because it illustrates the problems involved in making biblical arguments for these denominational positions. While it is true that bishops (overseers), priests (presbyters/elders), and deacons are all mentioned as church offices in the New Testament, it's not entirely clear that it was held as a standard tripartite hierarchy in the New Testament period. There are places in scripture where there appears to be no distinction between bishops and priests; the terms are used interchangeably. In 1 Timothy 3, Paul lays out church offices by addressing only two: bishops and deacons. Then in Titus 1, Paul brings up priests (presbyters/elders) in a similar fashion, but quickly switches terms to bishops (overseers), in a way that plausibly suggests he is still describing the same office. In short, it can be argued that Paul only envisioned two roles, with one of them (bishop/priest) simply described in two different terms, as both an overseer and an elder, much as one might call the same person both a pastor and a minister. While a uniform hierarchical structure of church offices clearly emerged in early Christianity, some historians have argued that in some places, bishops and priests were simply two different terms (or roles) applied to the same people until at least midway through the second century. In short, one can look at the New Testament evidence and faithfully interpret it as upholding a hierarchical model (bishop-priest-deacon), a free-church evangelical model (a pastor as overseer/elder, assisted by deacons), or a Reformed model (multiple elders led by a pastoral overseer, and assisted by deacons). The biblical evidence simply is not clear enough to make a "case closed" argument for church offices one way or the other.

A similar ambiguity arises in almost any biblical argument that centers on the doctrinal distinctives of various denominations. The question of infant baptism? The biblical evidence is mostly absent, but just nebulous enough to allow for the possibility. What about transubstantiation? Maybe, or maybe not, all depending on how one interprets the symbology of Jesus's statements, which can legitimately be read either way (yes, even when the flesh/blood passages from John 6 are brought into view, because there Jesus follows his very physical, visceral statements by saying, "the flesh counts for nothing," v.63). What about the reverence and honor due to Mary? The positive way she is addressed in most of the gospel accounts makes it possible to consider an ongoing role for Marian reverence in Christian devotion, but any sign of such devotion is almost entirely absent from the rest of the New Testament. In all of these instances, the evidence is simply so unclear that reasonable people will have room to disagree. Can you make a case for all of these positions from scriptural texts? Sure. Can you make a case against them? Again, sure. That's why the disagreements still persist, despite each denomination knowing their Bible just as well as the other denominations do.

Roman Catholics have one more biblical argument they draw on to make their case, one that does not apply to any other church's argument: Jesus's commendation of Peter in Matthew 16:16-19. Here's the text:

Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” (ESV)

The Roman Catholic interpretation of this passage is pretty straightforward: Jesus gives ultimate authority in the church to Peter, and since Peter is the apostolic founder of Rome, whose bishops are his successors, the Roman Catholic pope still retains this authority today. We've already seen that the historical argument which underlies this position is based on incomplete evidence. Further, interpreting the passage in this way makes a lot of assumptions that readers import into the text: namely that the pope of Rome is the intended and only successor to Peter, and that the authority given to Peter here is passed down to those who come after him (which Jesus never actually says).

It's worth taking a look at the evangelical and Orthodox views of this passage, just to see some of the legitimate ambiguity in its interpretation. From the evangelical side, many will point out that the context matters: Jesus is not just commending Peter out of the blue; he is commending Peter's confession of faith. The passage can be read as Jesus's assertion that the content of that confession--the identity of Jesus as God's Son and Messiah--is the foundation upon which the church rests, and that Peter is given his new name in recognition of that confession. Evangelicals will point out that the text may hint in this direction by using slightly different words for Peter (petros) and rock (petra). As the first person in the believing community to make this confession, Jesus says that Peter is being given the keys of the kingdom of heaven. It is possible to read this not as a permanent transfer of authority to Peter personally, but rather just as a statement of what happens when someone makes a confession of the true faith--they gain access to the kingdom of heaven; Peter just happens to be the first in that position during Jesus's ministry, so this is when it comes up in the story. The curious phrase about "binding" and "loosing" is potentially a reference to rabbinic language used about the interpretation and application of God's law, and again, this could apply just as easily to any believer (if that is the ultimate recipient of these blessings) as to Peter. Further, if the phrase does refer to interpretation of scripture, a parallel passage from Matthew seems to apply such powers to a fairly broad group ("every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven," Matt. 13:52). Another reason for suspecting that the "binding" and "loosing" powers may not apply solely to Peter is that Jesus says a very similar thing (in regard to forgiving sins) to all the disciples who are gathered together at his resurrection appearance in Jerusalem, not just to Peter (John 20:23). 

In the Orthodox interpretation, they are less concerned than evangelicals with invalidating a personal application to Peter's authority. Instead, they point out the unproven assumptions of the Roman Catholic argument. The Orthodox are generally willing to say, "Yes, this is Jesus committing authority to Peter to establish the church and to set its authoritative form and function. And he did just that--forming the Jerusalem believers into the church, as related in the book of Acts." They do not presume that Jesus intended for Peter's commendation to be passed down in a succession of authority through the ages, but rather that this was a prophecy of Peter's function after Pentecost, and that that function was fulfilled just as Jesus said. If there is any continual transfer of authority to successors, the Orthodox would view it as a statement of the authority handed down to all bishops. This is no less plausible than the Roman Catholic view of the passage, considering that there is no mention of any of these things in what Jesus says--not succession, not Rome, and not bishops. It's all an argument from silence, which must be arbitrated by historical evidence, and as we've seen, the historical evidence is hardly conclusive.

All that to say, if we're pinning our hopes on finding the one true church through biblical arguments alone, we're likely to be disappointed. Scripture is very clear about a lot of things, but when it comes to the points of contention between denominations, the textual evidence is generally insufficient to be independently decisive. That's essentially why there are multiple denominations, after all--because the text allows for a variety of readings. Some churches try to fix this problem by appealing to their exclusive authority to interpret scripture rightly, and maybe that's so--but for an outsider, their very claim to exclusive interpretation appears to be built on nothing but their own assertion, since neither the biblical evidence nor the historical evidence makes a strong case for it. 

So what are we left with? Well, there's still the experiential argument, which we'll take a look at next time. If there is one true church, wouldn't one expect it to be suffused with the power of God? Maybe the record of miracles and wonders will tip the scales one way or the other.

The Evangeliad (30:9-12)

(Click here for an introduction and previous installments of the Evangeliad)

Section 30:9-12 (corresponding to Luke 14:15-17; Matt. 22:1-3)

One of the guests in attendance replied:

"Oh, to taste the bread that God shall supply!

How blessed to feast in the kingdom of God,

When the righteous One reigns in brilliance and awe!"

Then Christ told this parable for his reply,

To remind them that the kingdom was nigh:

"The kingdom of heaven is like this, my friends:

A feast is planned; invitations are sent;

For the good King wants to honor his Son

With a festal event that's rivaled by none.

Yes, many are called to come to the feast,

And the King sends his servants into the streets.

To all those invited, they bear the good news:

'Come join in the feast; the King summons you!

All things are made ready to honor the Son,

So render the King's joy complete, and come!'

The Evangeliad (30:6-8)

(Click here for an introduction and previous installments of the Evangeliad)

Section 30:6-8 (corresponding to Luke 14:12-14)

And looking around the table again,

Jesus spoke to the host and all of his friends:

"When you have a feast, don't seek to invite

Your city's magnates of wealth and of might--

The rich and powerful, prestigious and high--

Nor even invite the friends at your side!

Don't just throw parties for comrades or kin;

Go out in the streets and bring the poor in!

The homeless and lost, the orphans and waifs--

Yes, the ones for whom this table was made!

Call in the malformed, the lepers, the lame,

A feast for the ones beaten down by their shame!

If you call in the rich, they'll favor you back,

And all your reward will be finished with that.

But favor the poor ones, seeking no prize;

You'll have rewards when the righteous shall rise!"

Is There Only One True Church? (Part 2)

(If you haven't read it yet, go back and read the first installment of this series of essays, where I define the categories of arguments used to make the claim of "one true church." The piece below focuses on one such category, historical arguments.)

Let’s take the Roman Catholic Church as our case study for the historical angle. Their stance on other Christian communions has softened somewhat since Vatican II, but they still insist on a basic recognition that they are “the” church: the church Jesus founded, the church in which sacramental grace is most abundantly present, and the church which God ultimately wants everyone to join. Since they are among the most vocal about asserting such claims, they make for a good case study illustrating the difficulties in presenting historical, biblical, or experiential arguments for one’s position.

- Historical arguments – The RCC claims that they are an apostolic church, founded in the first wave of Christianity and organized under the apostolic leadership of Peter. That much can reasonably be granted as plausible. Not only was Rome one of the first major churches, but there is good historical evidence that Peter went there, encouraged the Christians there, and died as a martyr there. It’s the further RCC claim that run into historical trouble: namely, that Peter’s apostolic foundation of the church of Rome represented the beginning of a bishopric meant to hold sway over the entire Christian communion; and further, that the RCC should be considered the one true church because it descends in an undeviated line from that apostolic foundation.

Let’s take it one step at a time. Is there reason to believe that Peter’s role as an apostolic founder of the Roman church signified the beginning of a bishopric exalted above all others? Maybe, but probably not. It’s true that Rome was granted a certain sort of primacy from very early on, but most of the early sources do not treat it as the same sort of primacy which the see of Rome now claims for itself. Rome was described as “first among equals,” as having a “primacy of honor,” and as being “the church which presides in love,” but note that each of those statements bears a condition with it—an equality with other sees, a primacy of honor (not of governmental authority), and a presidency exercised in love (not in monarchical superposition). Irenaeus argues that churches must be in communion with Rome (and even ascribes to it a “preeminent authority”), but the main reason he usually gives is Rome’s role as the preserver of the apostles’ doctrine—thus opening the question of what one should do if Rome ever strayed sufficiently far from the core of New Testament doctrine, as the Reformers believed it had. (It’s also worth noting that Irenaeus was within the geographic bounds of the patriarchate of Rome and was writing to address local situations of heresy, so one would naturally expect him to refer matters to Rome’s authority rather than, say, to Jerusalem’s.) Cyprian of Carthage, often quoted as one of the fiercest early defenders of the necessity of being in communion with Rome, is also the church father who most consistently told the pope to butt out of the business of bishops elsewhere (such as in his own native Africa). So while the early records do indicate a form of primacy accorded to Rome, it doesn’t leap off the page as being quite what the RCC now asserts regarding the role of the pope.

Now we'll take a closer look at some of the specific historical arguments involved. First, the association with Peter: we should note that Peter was almost certainly not the founder of the Roman church—at least not in terms of being the one who first began building a circle of believers there. There’s every reason to believe that there were Christians in Rome shortly after Pentecost (Acts 2:10), in the early 30s AD, and Peter likely does not arrive in Rome for several decades thereafter (late 50s or early 60s). Still, we’ll grant the possibility that he may have been the first of Jesus’s twelve apostles to visit the church in Rome, and that upon his arrival he took an active role in organizing the believers there into an institutional form by appointing leaders. One of the problems for this view, however, is that the earliest sources refer to Rome’s authority in the context of Peter and Paul’s apostolicity (that is, not specifically with reference to Peter alone). In some cases, it’s more Paul than Peter. When Pope Clement writes to the church of Corinth in the late first century, he writes his letter as issuing from the whole church of Rome (not from his own personal authority), advises them to submit to their own appointed leaders (again, not to his own authority), and makes reference to the mutual connection they have to Paul’s apostolic authority (not Peter’s). Judging from the earliest references, then, it was not so much the position of Peter’s office that made Rome special, but the clout of having the two heaviest hitters in the apostolic college.

A further argument against making a simplistic connection between a founding by Peter and supreme authority arises from the fact that Peter exercised a similar office for the church in Jerusalem three decades beforehand, and (by good historical authority) in Antioch as well. So we have two other major patriarchal sees which also claim an apostolic foundation from Peter. Why should Rome get the nod over them? In most patristic sources that touch on the subject, Rome is ranked before Antioch and Jerusalem despite them all having an apostolic foundation rooted in Peter’s ministry, and for two main reasons: it was the site of Peter and Paul’s martyrdoms, and it was the imperial capital. The latter reason—based largely in institutional practicality—was also the main reason for adding Constantinople to the list of patriarchal sees, in a position proximate to Rome’s, in the fourth century. The elevation of sees to the circle of the five major patriarchates was not really a function of apostolic founding (though that was assumed), but of practical organization: they represented the major urban centers for their respective regions (Rome, Constantinople, Alexandria, and Antioch), plus Jerusalem, which was included for its status as the original mother church. The administrative practicality of the arrangement appears to have been the decisive factor, else one would be hard-pressed to explain why none of the small churches of central Asia Minor (also plausibly founded by Peter—see 1 Peter 1:1) ever rose to the circle of major patriarchates. Constantinople claimed a possible-but-historically-dubious founding from Andrew, but it was really its status as the new imperial capital that sealed the deal for its inclusion. It seems, then, that being the imperial capital carried with it a considerable sway, not only in political affairs, but ecclesiastical ones as well, and the sources openly admit that as a major consideration.

Other reasons raised by modern Catholics in favor of Rome’s historical primacy—like Jesus’s appointment of Peter in Matt. 16:17-19—are not quite as clear-cut as it might seem at first glance (more to come on that passage in the section related to biblical arguments). So it appears that to claim an apostolic foundation from Peter is not really a “case closed” argument, since other patriarchal sees can and do make the same claim, and early texts show that Rome was distinguished from those sees on other grounds. The see of Rome was regarded as “first among equals,” but patristic texts seem to show that while Rome gradually came to think that “first” was the most important word in that phrase, everyone else thought that “equals” was the most important.

It should perhaps also be noted that the Western tradition makes a common error in speaking of this matter, whenever someone labels Peter as “the first pope.” Patristic sources are generally careful to separate the special office of the apostles from that of the institutional bishop, which was derived from their authority but not exactly equated with it. Thus Peter is counted a founding apostle for Jerusalem, Antioch, and Rome, but not the first bishop in any of those places. James (the brother of Jesus) is counted as the first bishop of Jerusalem by patristic texts, a role which can pretty clearly be seen in the records of the original ecumenical council, when his personal assessment is taken as the final form for the council’s ruling, even though Peter is also there in person (see Acts 15:13-21, especially v.19). For Rome, Linus is counted as the first bishop, and thus the first pope. Both Irenaeus and Eusebius speak fairly clearly on the matter—Peter is an apostle, not a bishop. That’s all a bit tangential to the topic at hand, but worth mentioning.

The second little piece of the historical argument—that the RCC should be considered the one true church because it has descended in an undeviated line from its apostolic foundation—is compelling in some respects, but a little incomplete. Other apostolic churches, not in communion with Rome, make the same claim about themselves. Some of those churches even reckon their apostolic foundings earlier than Rome’s, and they also still exist in an unbroken line of descent (the Coptic church of Alexandria is a good example of this). What distinguishes Rome’s claim above theirs? For an outsider, it’s difficult to see any significant distinction in the arguments which should favor one side or the other.

Further, the argument from an undeviated descent only takes into account the institutional process by which each ordained office is filled by an appointed successor. Even the necessity of apostolic succession is open to question, since it is not clearly pointed out as important in the New Testament and only emerges as a consideration gradually over the subsequent centuries. And it’s also worth asking whether the institutional process is actually the most important part of the idea of apostolic succession. While it’s kind of neat to have a chain of ordinations stretching back to the apostles, that institutional narrative says nothing at all about whether the church in question has remained faithful to the doctrine of the apostles. This was the main sticking-point for the Reformers of the sixteenth century. They had no arguments with the historical fact of Rome’s apostolic succession (though some doubted whether it was really that important), but rather with the sense that Rome’s doctrine had gradually shifted into something that was now in significant tension with the doctrine of the New Testament—preeminently, Paul’s apostolic declaration of salvation by grace through faith, and not by works. Even if one were to grant that Peter had founded Rome and that it maintained an undeviated line of succession from him, should one still hold allegiance to it if it began teaching a different gospel than the one taught by the apostles? This matter is a little harder to see clearly now than it was in the sixteenth century, because various reforms from the sixteenth century on have clarified Catholic doctrine and led the RCC to tack back towards a more biblical expression of its theology, but at the time of the Reformation, it was clearly and openly preaching a salvation that could be earned by works. One of the most fundamental questions to discern, then, in the matter of whether a church’s claim to be the one true church is valid, is the question of whether their teaching still matches the doctrine that was “once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3). Given the various doctrinal disagreements between apostolic churches today, one cannot simply assume that apostolic succession guarantees doctrinal faithfulness.

And with that consideration, we’ll shift and examine the biblical arguments in the next piece. As I hope this case study demonstrates, the historical arguments for claiming to being the one true church quickly get bogged down in the messiness of early sources. No church’s claim actually shows up to be nearly as clear-cut in history as they want it to be. Is it possible that Rome (or something else) really is the one true church? Maybe. But history won’t make that case with anything approaching even a basic level of confidence.

The Evangeliad (30:4-5)

(Click here for an introduction and previous installments of the Evangeliad)

Section 30:4-5 (corresponding to Luke 14:10-11)

So when you're invited to come to a feast,

Go straight for the seat that's honored the least.

And then your host, when he enters the house,

Might seat you higher than everyone else.

He'll see your humility, want you to be

At his very side as you go through the feast,

And so give you the most honored place,

Exalting the lowly to everyone's praise. 

For abasement awaits all those who would try

Their own name and station to glorify,

But those who humble themselves, they will find

An exaltation to the highest of heights."