Recently a reader pointed us to an article titled "From First Baptist to the First Century: A Spiritual Journey" by one Clark Carlton. I was asked to comment on the article and found it of more immediate relevance upon second and third glances. As one who attends a "First Baptist" church, but does not consider myself tied down to uniquely Baptist principles (as opposed to "mere Christianity"), I found Carlton's account curious. The sum of it: Carlton converted to the Orthodox Faith, and in this article, he explains why.

By no means are we here critiquing the basis of Carlton's faith and salvation. Rather, we'd like to take a look at some of the reasons he gives for his decision -- not that his reasons would be particularly unique to him or to any convert. Our inquiry rather will be a matter of analysis and of looking closely at motivations. And as demonstration of the universality of the reasons given by Carlton, though we will use quotes from him, this sentence will be the last time his name shall be seen in this article. We are not about this man, but about all men.

Most Southern Baptists, and others, are familiar with the walk down the aisle, the public confession of faith, the baptism. Of this process we are told:

A part of me always resented the fact that such a public affirmation for one reared in the church was treated as such a momentous event, as if saying a prayer in my pastor's study was all that stood between me and the gaping jaws of hell. I was always uncomfortable with what I termed the "cult of instant conversion." It is a blatant betrayal of the witness of Scripture to suggest that salvation could be reduced to a once-and-for-all decision to make Jesus one's personal Lord and Savior. Yet, the need for a single, momentous, life-changing decision was drummed into my head from Vacation Bible School to annual revival meetings to state-wide youth evangelism conferences.

Is it a betrayal indeed? It can be; whether it was in this specific case, there is not enough told to say. There is a gap of misunderstanding here; perhaps caused as well by a lack of emphasis on discipleship and the attitude fostered by revival crusades that do little or nothing to encourage discipleship. This is understood from my own experience of trying to encourage believers to learn more about what they believe and why. Church training classes that start with 25 members and end 12 weeks later with 4 speak well enough of the disorder.

But after all, discipleship is a two way street. The fault is grounded in a society where life activities are a disposable convenience; the church that does not encourage discipleship merely gives in to the trend. As it happens the prayer (in whatever place) or the moment of decision IS that which, temporally, takes the person from the jaws of hell thereafter. And if you have made that decision, "as a man thinks, so he is," and you will conduct yourself accordingly. It is here where Orthodoxy is vague when it comes to understanding the relation of faith and works -- falling into the opposite error of certain Protestant denominations that become overtly legalistic. Thus as well, while the error of making baptism "just a ritual" is one error, making it into a efficacious remover of sin is the other. To take either position is to think out of the line of ancient Semitic psychology within which the practice was birthed.

Interestingly enough, however, my disillusionment with evangelical Protestantism was actually heightened by my stints as a supply preacher. Initially I was disturbed by the pressure to "perform." I was conscious of the fact that as the preacher, the "success" of the service was on my shoulders. In fact, in many rural churches, the Sunday service is referred to as "the preaching service."

A valid point. Yet the opposite error is one I witnessed on my own in both Catholic and Orthodox services: to turn to rote, so that there is no "performance" at all.

The balance? Paul struck it in his letters. On the one hand, he warned the Corinthians not to be impressed by, or follow men according to, their ability to offer speaking displays. On the other hand, he himself readily used Greco-Roman techniques of rhetorical persuasion -- performance in writing.

The bottom line: It's not a cornerstone, not a means to judge. The "success" should indeed not lie on the preacher or any one person; which does not mean the preacher should not be an as effective in communication as possible.

I was also conscious of the grave responsibility entailed in preaching the Word of God. Baptists say they do not believe in sacraments, but they understand the sacramentality of the Word. And yet, I never knew what to preach. I had no lectionary or church calendar to guide me. The congregation was completely at the mercy of my whims and tastes. How often I prayed for God to "lay a message on my heart," and how often I ended up throwing something together at the last minute!

Something of an oddity here, since I know well enough that my Baptist preachers had guidebooks and notes prepared for them by denominational leadership. Perhaps this was not in effect earlier. In any event, this seems to reflect more a lack of organization talent and depth than any sort of problem with a guiding principle.

The Bible is a rich text, full of meaning and depth. Any person who cannot readily decide what to preach simply lacks a certain talent of mind and should have someone else make decisions on topics (as indeed was the resort here) regardless of denominational stance.

The bottom line is that personal difficulties are not an adequate basis for a decision to change denominations. Change professions, perhaps, but not denominations.

Furthermore, I had no doctrinal plumb line against which to measure the content of my sermons. All I had was a pretty good notion of what would and would not fly in a Baptist church and the good sense not to say anything I knew would be controversial. I became acutely aware that the congregation was not simply hearing the Word of God, it was hearing the Word of God according to me!

Being involved in a Baptist church now and having preached there once now, I am mystified by this lack of knowledge. The plumb line is there and known to me.

A.W. Tozer once called worship the "missing jewel of evangelicalism." I longed to worship a God who was bigger than I was-a God who could not be contained by the chatty informality of an evangelical service or by Bill Gaither choruses. I longed to worship Him Who sits upon the throne of the cherubim. I did not want to be the star of the show!

Curiously, the reasons offered here are much the same as those used to justify conversion to anything from Mormonism to the charismatic movement (and interestingly, our writer speaks of having met with such a group in a coffeehouse for a time). And it bespeaks a dangerous lack of objectivity. It boils down to, "How does it make me feel?"

Was this a focus of first-century Christians? No, it was not, nor was it a focus of any ancient person. The ancient Christians were too busy with matters of daily survival to have the leisure to ask, "How does it make me feel? What experience can I have to satisfy myself?"

The desire above comes of modern individualism and a society that has had the leisure to ignore the basic questions of survival, leaving them with time for extensive introspection.

Yet the "chatty informality" AND the desire for more are two sides of the same coin. Both are geared to satisfaction of the individual. Neither, in the end, puts God in first place. To put God first means to serve him first (the true meaning of worship) and then, "all these things will be added unto you." The comment has the priority and solution backwards, though this may not have been the intent.

Our writer bemoans the excess of "shallow, sentimental, and emotionally manipulative expressions of faith", the move from hymns that at least have some doctrine to "praise choruses". With this we readily sympathize; this problem, others do recognize.

In a recent issue of the Christian Research Journal that bulwark of Protestant thought, John MacArthur, said much the same: "Thus, the slim doctrinal content of Protestant hymnography is being phased out altogether in favor of catchy choruses. Yet, where is it written that the praise of God must be bereft of solid doctrine or be aimed at manipulating emotions rather than uplifting the heart?"

That our leading song today is a bereft paean whose refrain is, "I can only imagine" tells us enough of the focus being too much on experience and not at all on fact.

In a way, this struggle reflected a tension that has existed in Protestantism since the beginning of the Reformation. On the one hand, there is the commitment to what is perceived to be historic, biblical Christianity, and on the other hand there is an individualistic theological method. The Southern Baptist "Holy War" was simply the latest chapter in the age old struggle between doctrinal conservatism and free church polity.

Reference here is to the struggle in the Southern Baptist Convention -- between "liberals" and "fundamentalists". Understandably such struggles can cause those with lesser stamina to wish for an authoritative end to the matter. The "individualistic theological method" came about because, among other social factors, the "collectivist, authoritarian" method was creating injustices -- not because of the collectivist method itself, but because what was offered as collectivist was in fact perceived to be an unjust pursuit of benefit for certain high-placed individuals who portended to have the good of the collective at heart, but clearly did not.

Having understood now the difference between ancient and modern (at least, American/Western) thought on this matter, I see the same problem noted, but see also that what is offered by Orthodoxy is not automatically the solution. It is our minds, not our denomination, that causes the problem. In this light, what is brought to mind is a friendly reader who was a convert to Catholicism, who recently wrote me asking, "What is your authority?" The truth, I replied. "The truth as you see it? How do you know?" Our conversation continued, with my end of the discussion being a matter of wondering whether the whirlpool of epistemological questions is one that is really answered by making anyone an authority other than God Himself, the bastion of truth -- regardless of who we choose as intermediaries.

In my rhetorical tribute to all things truly Baptist I insisted, "The lifeblood of denominational existence is our absolute commitment to the freedom of the believer . . . Our response to the Bible should be simply to approach it and obey it as we feel led; it is an individual matter . . ." Obviously, I did not quote 2 Peter 1:20: no prophecy of Scripture is of any private interpretation. In my defense, however, I must say that at that time I knew very little about how the Scriptures were written or how the canon came into existence. All I knew was what I heard from the pulpit or read in Protestant books.

I cannot help but comment here, since 2 Peter 1:20 was recently used in a similar way by an atheist opponent of ours, who denied cultural-literary influences on the composition of the Gospels. The gist of this verse is not that we are not able to interpret Scripture but that prophecy specifically did not have its origins in human activity. It is ironic that two former fundamentalists, one now Orthodox and the other now atheist, misuse the same verse in a similar way.

I did not realize at the time that the Bible I held had become in fact an idol, an idol that I myself controlled. An infallible book is only useful if you have an infallible interpreter, which is where the Baptist doctrine of "soul-competency" came in. As an individual, I was that interpreter, the sole arbiter of what the Bible did and did not mean. The Reformation did not do away with the medieval Papacy and all of its pretensions, it merely democratized it and made everyone Pope! So there I was, an eighteen-year-old, pontificating on the correct interpretation of Scripture.

This eerily mirrors that conversation I am now having with a friendly Catholic, who asked if I had made myself my own pope. My response today suits as well here: More like I haven't made anyone else my pope, really. Now of course we can continue the line of epistemological panic-button questions; I could also say: Are you sure the pope is infallible? How do you know? Are you sure he's not really a bug-eyed purple people eater from Mankato? Etc. In the end we both regard God and truth as the ground of epistemology; the difference is who or what we choose as an intermediary, if any. As yet I see no reason to sever my direct hotline method so I can join a party line. Questions of surety can be bandied about wherever I go; in the end I may ask what proof there is the universe was not created 5 minutes ago and all I recall before that is not an illusion.

The answer is indeed to work under authority, but the authority of truth and what is right, not that of another person -- unless perhaps that person is indeed infallible, which of course is what is commonly argued, but of which I have no data collected at present and see no emergency need to start. In this light it is interesting that our writer of concern here tells us that he found his way initially by taking critical thinking as an exercise BEFORE he put himself under the authority of the Orthodox Church.

Our writer declares in the end that he "wanted the faith of the apostles, prophets, martyrs, confessors, ascetics, and of 'every righteous spirit made perfect in faith.'" This is an admirable goal as stated; yet he also admits that in his early search, he "was basically reacting to my own, personal tastes" and was in line with those who were searching for "something more." We are told of a time of recuperation from a medical matter and of extensive reading: "just about everything I could get my hands on having to do with church history, worship, and spirituality." This statement was the next of interest for me:

[I] was perfectly willing to claim the historic Church and the liturgy for my own understanding of Christianity. Yet, I was still in control! I, in true Protestant fashion, was judge and jury of what would and would not fit into my kind of Christianity. I was willing to claim the historic Church, but I had yet to recognize Her claim on me.

As read, I truly cannot understate the peculiarity of this statement in my eyes. The lack of understanding may be because I have never conceived of myself as being anything but under the claim and authority, not of the church, but of God -- and God, through Christ, is head of the church.

Two questions arise: What am I missing? And in turn, am I actually missing anything to begin with? Our writer speaks of "Holy Tradition" which "has the same claim upon my life as the Gospel itself, for Tradition is nothing other than the Gospel lived throughout history." Substituting "truth" for "tradition" fairly represents my own point of view. Whence the restriction to "tradition" and the seeming carte blanche for all that it offers?

What seems to have happened is that a doctrine of inerrancy or authority has merely been expanded in a desired direction, thus:

It is not my place to judge the Apostolic Tradition and decide how or if to incorporate it into my own religious tradition; rather Holy Tradition judges me and calls me to account for how I have handled "that Good Deposit" that has been committed to Christians.

In different words, is this not the same as the doctrine of Sola Scriptura, expanded to include tradition? To be sure, the oral messages delivered by the Apostles carried weight -- because they represented the truth. So likewise do any other contextual bits of data -- we need to know the language, the customs, the background, to arrive at an understanding of what is being said. The only difference on the surface here is the range of material given authority -- and a misunderstanding of Sola Scriptura as Solo Scriptura.

Further on our writer tells us that it was relational issues, not so much data, that led him:

Although Baptists profess faith in the Trinity; when you get right down to it, that belief is not much more than lip-service. The Trinity is rarely mentioned in Baptist churches, except at baptisms, and has absolutely nothing to do with how the church is organized or how Baptists view themselves as persons created in the image of God. In the final analysis, the Trinity is simply the solution to a theological problem: "how can Jesus be both God and different from the Father at the same time?". The doctrine, as understood by Baptists and most other Protestants has no positive content. If every reference to the Trinity were removed from Baptist hymnals and books, few people would even notice.

In some cases, and everywhere, I have little doubt that "lip-service" is all there is; the Trinity is understood by few and discussed by few more. At my own Baptist church, it is mentioned quite often; in terms of "how the church is organized or how Baptists view themselves as persons created in the image of God" -- our writer does not explain how this is done in Orthodoxy, so I can only guess how the Trinity is made to relate to church organization. The best I can imagine would be substantially artificial and contrived.

In terms of the "image of God" I have learned from study of the Mormons that this means we are given God's authority to act on earth -- and our writer later gives an understanding of this that is contrary to that view, thinking it means we are personal as God is. To be sure, to be an authority requires personhood, but that is not indeed the meaning of the word at the fore. Our writer goes on:

What I learned from Zizioulas is that my own being as well as the being of the Church is inextricably tied up with the being of God Himself-but not simply with the fact that God exists and that I derive my existence from Him. Rather it is tied up with the way God exists, His mode of existence. For the first time I read that God is not an individual. If God exists, it is not because He is Necessary Being, but because He eternally begets His Son and breathes forth His Spirit in an unbroken communion of absolute love and self-giving. To say that God is love (1 John 4:16) is not to describe an attribute of God but to define His very being; it is to affirm that He is the Father Who exists by the total gift of Himself to His Son and His Spirit. "In this manner the ancient world heard for the first time that it is communion that makes things 'be': nothing exists without it, not even God."

Call me odd, but I learned this already without Orthodoxy's help: "For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring." "And he is before all things, and by him all things consist." I learned about love otherwise as well. The rest is little different than Jewish Wisdom theology in outworking.

Of course I don't think it would be argued that Orthodoxy is the only avenue for this, just that the Orthodox are practicing it whereas others are not. Our writer has rightly cited the "disease" at the core, individualism. It is not so clear that he sees that Orthodoxy and no other denomination is a solution in and of itself, but only because and to the extent that it practices non-individualism -- which you can do as well, as I have, even in your local Baptist congregation (and not because they are Baptists, of course).

Our writer professes to have wondered "why Adam's sin should have such eternal consequences." In that he may find our take of interest. It is said: "I discovered, however, that sin is not the mere breaking of a rule, but is nothing less than the denial of love and, therefore, of life itself....Sin-"missing the mark"-is not a moral shortcoming or a failure to live up to some external code of behavior, but rather the failure to realize life as love and communion."

Is there any real distinction between the two? Rather it seems that the same concept is being approached from two different directions. One focuses on our end; the other focuses on God's end. For practical purposes, and for clarity of thought, is not a synthesis of understanding warranted?

Our writer spends some time on the matter of heaven and hell in his former view. We will spend little time here; I certainly cannot disagree that too much time has been spent on "rewards" and not enough on responsibility and life; here, without endorsing the whole ball of wax per se, I have found that (as noted in my book The Mormon Defenders) the Orthodox have kept a focus that is indeed seriously lacking in many churches too concerned with "this life" and not forward-looking whatsoever. This interesting comment agrees with what I have said about "two sides to the same coin" --

All of my life, salvation had been presented to me in negative terms: Jesus had saved me from hell and had enabled me to go to this place called heaven. He was the ultimate fire insurance! What joy I found when I discovered the positive side to Christianity. St. Athanasius said that God became man so that man might become like God.

So then, it is not a difference in truth or fact, but a difference in emphasis that was the attraction. In the end, this is how all the differences work out: For Baptists, it is said, "In the final analysis, Truth is what each individual says it is, and any attempt to suggest otherwise is a violation of individual freedom." Yet isn't the choice to follow what an authority says itself an individual choice?

It would seem that Orthodoxy values individual choice as much as any other -- particularly, the individual's right to surrender authority. And note this objection:

More recently, Paige Patterson, one of the architects of the fundamentalist takeover of the SBC, was refused membership in the Wake Forest (North Carolina) Baptist Church when he became the president of Southeastern Seminary in 1992. The reason cited for this denial of membership was Patterson's involvement in the denominational battle.

The question that comes to mind is, what if a member of the Orthodox clergy begins to espouse obviously heretical doctrines? What if a pope or other authority changes their mind? This may be dismissed as unlikely, but if Judas Iscariot can betray Jesus, it is hardly impossible. O

ur writer justly decries exclusion from a local body on mundane grounds (race, for example) yet this is a social attitude, not a function of any particular denomination (unless one wishes to count Aryan Front sorts, in which case, the social aspect did come first). It is here where the obvious "drawback" of collectivism is seen -- as any system may have drawbacks if poorly used. Imposed fiercely it stifles the will to change if and when error is detected -- and seems only to answer, "there must be no error".

If this needs further thought, consider that our writers' appeal to the variation of opinion among churches is eerily similar to those used by Mormons to appeal to the need for a prophetic office for today.

Protestants all claim to interpret the Scripture by the light of the Holy Spirit, and yet they manage to come up with a multitude of different interpretations of the same passage. Now either the Spirit is playing games with these people or there is something wrong with their theological method. After all, Calvinists and Arminians cannot both be right; all the dialectic in the world cannot reconcile two completely irreconcilable doctrines.

All of this is certainly common sense; but to say that Orthodoxy has the answer with its structure of authority, begs the question in context. Mormons have such an order and would lay their own claim on the exclusive right to guide men. Beyond this, to say "Protestants all claim to interpret the Scripture by the light of the Holy Spirit" neglects the dimension of critical scholarship as an avenue.

The Holy Spirit is not a dispenser of information that teaches (note the irony of 1 John, the most didactic letter in the NT); appeal therefore to "the Holy Spirit Who would guide the Church into all truth" in John's Gospel, while obviously useful as an Orthodox motto, remains begging the question of standing as much as it would for any individual Protestant claiming the Spirit's guidance.

The Church's authority, however, is not a matter of juridical governance or even divine right. It does not rest upon the infallibility of Her leaders (There is no such thing!). Rather, the authority of the Church derives from Her divine-human nature-from the fact that She is the Body of Christ animated by the Holy Spirit. When the Apostles gathered in council as recorded in Acts to decide what to do with the Gentile Christians, they announced their decision with the words, it seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us (Acts 15:28). This is the authority of the Church: the abiding presence of Her Lord in the action of the Spirit.

In principle, this would be correct -- yet what guarantee do we have that individual members of that Body are no more than claimants to be in that Body? The true believer has the divine-human nature but even then is not guaranteed against mistakes -- keep in mind that the Acts 15 council was called in part because Peter had behaved in error (Gal. 2)! Not to sound coarse, but "where was the Holy Spirit then"? Obviously we remain having the option to disregard that still, small voice in any event.

I would conclude in summary, not meaning to short-shrift our writer: Appeals to a body of authority -- such as is present in Orthodoxy and Catholicism -- I do not find to be exempt from critical scrutiny.

-JPH