Episode Details

Today: a final post in this mini-series about church and apostolic ministry; plus my ‘partner’ scheme is now up and running (see details at the end). 

A good friend who shall remain nameless (but was in fact Col Marshall) sent me a brief message after one my recent articles about the heavenly church. Knowing my love for golf he wrote: 

Having teed up the church ball so nicely I can hardly wait to see how straight you hit it, neither slicing (‘high congregationalism’) nor hooking (‘low congregationalism’).

I’ve edited Col’s message to replace the names that he put inside those brackets, and who represent those two understandings or tendencies about church. Truth be told, I also could have put my own name inside both of those brackets at various points in my life (in fact, if I’m honest, on various days of the week). Col wants me to write about this issue that has been burbling away among Reformed-evangelical pastors and leaders (and in my brain) over the past 15 years or so—and who am I to resist a holler from the Marshall? 

So what are these two approaches to being ‘congregational’ and what might a fairway-splitting drive between them look like? (See the PS for a brief note about the labels I’m using in this post, and why I’m not really happy with them.)

By ‘high congregationalism’, I mean the idea that the actual physical gathering of the local congregation is definitive for our thinking about ‘church’. As a Sydney Anglican, this strand of thinking is in my bones, via the teachings of Donald Robinson and Broughton Knox. They insisted that the New Testament word ekklesia (‘church’) always meant an actual gathering of people, and that accordingly the local congregation or assembly was the earthly expression of ‘church’, not a bishop or a denomination or a vague worldwide entity (one of the issues in their context was the debate about the value of ecumenism and the World Council of Churches, but that is a story for another time). For them, the regular weekly gathering was the earthly get-together that visibly expressed the heavenly assembly around Christ; it was the household that visibly expressed the heavenly household of God; it was the motley-but-unified bunch of humans that visibly expressed the ‘new humanity’ created in Christ. (And this would be as true of a traditionally structured Sunday congregation in a church building, as it would be of an underground house church in China with very lean or minimal structures associated with it.)

I’m almost always a high congregationalist on Sundays. I’m reminded every week that there is something irreplaceably important about this particular group of people that I’m committed to—that I pray with and stand next to and rejoice with and speak to, with whom I sit under the word of God as it is read and preached, and with whom I also get together for mutual encouragement during the week. On Sundays, I remember that there’s something precious about these particular newcomers and fringe-dwellers that God has given us to love and to evangelise and to welcome in; and something noble and necessary about these particular pastors who teach and exemplify the word of Christ in our midst. Apostolic ministry is people ministry, and these regularly assembling people are the ones that God has given me to love.

In this sense, nearly everyone I know is a ‘congregationalist’ of some stripe, and especially so at the moment. As we observed in last week’s Payneful Truth, there are not only many tangible benefits of actually getting out of the house and gathering together in a particular place, but also a thousand intangibles that we often don’t appreciate. 

However, for my high congregational friends (and me on some Tuesdays and Thursdays), the centrality of the local, gathered congregation goes a little further and has other implications. It makes you think twice, for example, about multi-site and multi-service