Why I Am “Spiritually Insecure” and I Need A Good Banner
Written by Rob Golding
In his farewell editorial, Shiao Chong lamented the CRC’s inability to share “diverse opinions” about our dogma. It’s not hard to see why this was so lamentable for him, since he has repeatedly said his mission, from the Lord, has been to stand between diverse opinions as a bridge. If we remove the space for such diversity, the bridge is no longer needed. In such situations of homogeneity, the populace looks “spiritually insecure,” in Chong’s words. I write as one of those people.
In one way, I understand how the desire for doctrinal unity can be the result of spiritual insecurity. If I am genuinely unsure about my beliefs, I may want to squash all opposition so that I can blanket myself with the absence of any dissenting voices. For example, Scientologists aren’t likely to open the door to Christian evangelists equipped to share their “diverse opinion” about L. Ron Hubbard and his spirit-space ships from Lord Xenu. They would, understandably, rather live in a cloistered world where people don’t question Hubbard’s doctrine. Are we the same? Was Chong right?
Ironically, though we could be spiritually insecure, there is another way to look at this situation. If I am extremely confident in what I believe, and I believe that what I believe is essential to believe, then I will be someone who isn’t all that keen on printing, promoting, and publishing other beliefs. Though I’d relish the opportunity to squash the house of cards L. Ron Hubbard built (2 Cor 10:5), I wouldn’t want to give him the space (no pun intended) to publish his “diverse opinions” in my quarterly newsletter. Why? The reason is clear—I am perfectly confident that what he is teaching is wrong and harmful. Thus, it is my spiritual security that leads me to say “no, not in my magazine.”
Even more ironically, if I were spiritually insecure, I might think that Hubbard’s space aliens made sense of recent astronomical events (what were all those “drones” anyways?) more than the Bible could. If I was in such a state of uncertainty, I may think that allowing him the opportunity to give his piece could engender some discussion among my readers and perhaps allow me the opportunity to improve my belief system and finally get a grasp on what is going on in the world. Maybe my “faith which was once for all handed down to the saints” (Jude 3) needs an adjustment. In this way, if my faith in my faith is weak it leaves me more open to hearing divergent opinions with anxious curiosity.
Therefore, what the CRC needs today is not another editor of The Banner who is looking for diverse opinions, no matter how well intentioned he or she is—and Chong was very well intentioned, I’m sure. Rather, the CRC needs an editor who is spiritually secure, so much so that he or she is willing to tell opinion writers submitting articles about animal thermoregulation (p. 31), wristwatches, emojis, and especially, the possibility that we got it wrong about doctrine X, Y, or Z, “No thank you.” Ours should be a magazine that does one thing—glorify Christ. Whether it be through systematic theological treatises about the essence of God, or apologetic articles designed to equip the average CRC’er to answer everyday objections to his biblical view of sexuality, The Banner should be a place where every person in the CRC who believes CRC doctrine should be able to rally for support. Indeed, that’s what a banner is for—it’s a symbol above us designed to bring soldiers together under one heading. Chong has said he was merely following the “kitchen table” model that preceded him, which uses The Banner as a place for different people to gather and share their diverse opinions as they might for a meal. But keep reading the history of the The Banner and you’ll see it was originally intended to be a rallying point where we could all gather under our shared doctrine in a world trying to pull us apart. That is, after all, why it’s called The Banner and not The Kitchen Table.
May all those who gather under our banner believe wholeheartedly the doctrines of the CRC. May its forthcoming editor, under the providence of God, trim the longstanding frayed edges that have so long been wisping in the wind and re-dye its faded colors in the crimson shade of Christ’s once-for-all work so that all who lay eyes upon it will instantly know “this is what we believe.”
Rev. Rob Golding was ordained as a Minister of the Word in 2024 and serves First CRC in Artesia, CA.
Rob,
Have you ever pondered why different denominations in the Reformed stream of Christianity don’t always have identical interpretations of the creeds and confessions? I think it is because Reformed denominations haven’t found their unity in doctrinal conformity but by standing together in the stream. Our identity is in a few core beliefs and also in our commitment to always seek understanding and always be open to the Spirit’s work in reshaping our thinking and our faith.
I’m not afraid of the tension in not always knowing and not always completely agreeing on every jot and tittle in the Reformed confessions. In fact dissonance can be constructive and prompt our sanctification. We can hold on to more than one way of understanding things at the same time. Our thinking can be nonbinary. Our unity is not in absolute consensus on every formulation of belief. After all the confessions are not final statements – a new scripture with the same authority as God’s Word. They were written as a place to stand, but the Reformed tradition is dynamic. Our unity is found in holding each other close despite nuanced doctrinal differences, just as God holds us close even while we are fallible in our formulations, even while we are yet sinners.
In my view the new CRC has a hardening of the arteries of faith. Difference is treated as heresy. Unity depends on orthodoxy. That breaks apart the Body of Christ, including rivulets in the Reformed stream. How sad when presumably we all want oneness with Christ. Unity builds bridges – one Lord, one faith, one baptism. Narrow confessional conformity burns bridges down.
Abide may think that Synodical authority is absolute, but in fact its pronouncements don’t stop conscientious questions. Do you think all members, or even all office bearers think the same way about TULIP? Hardly. The Reformed tradition makes room for principled dissenters. We live by faith, not by sight. Confessions aren’t a kind of law. We don’t obey them; we sign on to them. They are a place to stand, until we don’t (do you still detest Anabaptists?).
This is a straw man argument. The problem with doctrinal certainty is not insecurity but intellectual arrogance. Theologians, ministers, and laypersons see through a glass darkly. Doctrines are human creations to help us try to understand. As God continues to reveal Himself through two books of revelation, our eyes are opened to see that what was thought to be clear at one time is no longer so clear. That’s not sin nor is it capitulating to culture. It’s God saying you’re still only at the beginning of understanding who I am and what I want for you. The sin of certainty pushes away those whom God embraces.