To what institution has God granted the authority to rule concerning such matters of doctrine? Is it a coordinated effort of the church and academy, or a divinely appointed representation of seminary, academy, machine shop, and law office in the officers seated in the courts of the church? And does the church have the authority to make pronouncements concerning doctrine that contradict the academy?

I write to politely object to a point in Dr. William Evans recent post “Change, Acquiesence, or Depart Honorably with Conviction: The Unhappy Politics of Creation.” In this post he takes issue with various arguments raised by Dr. William VanDoodewaard in an earlier post entitled “Hermenuetics and Awkward Science.”

Evans deals with two trends that he “has noticed in a variety of contexts lately.” I wish to deal with one here: Evans’s observation that the creation debate has become politicized.

What is the relationship of the exercise of power and the formulation of doctrine? The question is not really whether or not these two can be separated—they cannot—but rather one of the identification of powers. If one is at all familiar with the history of the development of any orthodox doctrine (the Trinity is a fine example, or any of the Reformation creeds) the twin poles of power and doctrine have never been, and will never be, separated. Church and state, pulpit and crown, citizen and sovereign have long argued over truth and the exercise of power. This is because truth and power cannot be separated; the omnipotent Christ rules His church by Word and Spirit.

The authorityto summarize and defend the truths of Scripture belongs to the church. This by definition, in a church with a Reformed order, includes the whole church. The exercise of this power, which is ministerial and declarative, is by the assemblies of the church. These include pastors, with good and useful and important seminary training, but whose exercise of authority in a local church is connected to the congregation by way of an election. The assemblies also include ruling elders, these too elected by the congregation. Ruling elders are not, it must be noted, generally seminary trained, but serve on Sessions and Presbyteries and in General Assemblies and Synods with an exercise of power equal to that of ministers.

Thus in the assemblies we have a great number of lawyers, custodians, farmers, astronomers, geologists, astrophysicists, engineers, butlers, and bakers who live and work, in the main, in the world of general revelation. God has placed representatives of the “laity” (with equal vote) in the very ruling assemblies of the church that are charged to defend sound doctrine. This church order is intimately linked with the Reformed doctrine of the perspicuity of Scripture, and the illuminating work of the Holy Spirit in the heart of every believer – and the pattern of the New Testament where ordained men, both fishermen and teachers trained in the rabbinical schools, come together to assess and respond to issues of scriptural interpretation and application.

Evans’s post reveals the outline of an argument for an additional seat of power in doctrinal discussion, formulation and defense. This outline begins to take shape when he makes the bald assertion that “the scientific evidence for the great antiquity of the earth and cosmos is overwhelming and consistent, and this evidence is coming to us from a wide variety of disciplines (astronomy, geology, theoretical physics, paleontology, etc).” Here something immediately stands out: Evans believes that he has some level of authority to make this significant judgment. (He also appears to suggest that young earth six-day creationists are unaware of, ignore, or are unable to adequately process the same evidence.) The evidence is overwhelming simply because Evans thinks so.

Now I do not think that Evans is claiming this authority for himself alone, but rather speaking as a representative of another seat of power—the academy. When Evans states that “the issue of historical first parents is easier for the laity to understand than plate tectonics or astrophysics,” he again reveals a particular view of the apprehension of truth. The laity need experts. Elsewhere he goes so far as to call the laity “average people devoid of specialized training.” The inference Evans makes in his argument is that the laity need another institution—the institution comprised of those of specialized training—to help their muddled minds navigate through the great world of knowledge. The academy, the concentration of the people of specialized training, becomes an equal, if not pre-eminent, center of power in the arbitration of matters of truth. For Evans the direct appeal of the pulpit to the mind of the laity, particularly on matters relating to science, seems to be a sort of populist power play. It appears to be such because it bypasses the specialized knowledge present in the academy.

This same view is evident in Evans’s exaltation of the “Princetonians” Warfield and Machen—and even more so in his lament that “a generation has arisen that knew not Machen!” (Again, is it equitable to assume that those who hold a young-earth six-day view of creation are unaware of, ignore, or simply unqualified to critique Machen?) Was Princeton unassailable, theologically pristine? What if I have concluded that both Hodge and Warfield made significant errors in their discussions of the relationship of general and special revelation, and also Archibald Alexander before them? And that Hodge’s treatment of Darwin is woefully inadequate, and reveals a man carried more (specifically in his book “What is Darwinism?”) by the spirit of his newly scientific age than any careful adherence to systematic theology as summarized in the Westminster Confession of Faith? Or, that from all that I have read, the ardent defender of orthodoxy J. Gresham Machen failed to see the great danger that evolutionary theory presents to a coherent system of Christian doctrine? And if my conclusions are all wrong, how shall I know that I have risen above the level of an “average person devoid of specialized training” to really know Machen as Evans apparently does? Only when I have come to agree with him? If I have followed Evans’s argument correctly, it simply boils down to an unassailable appeal to a particular class of authorities.

That the class is limited is simple to illustrate. Recently, I have been reading through a number of Calvin’s sermons. Consider this excerpt from his sermon on Genesis 1:1-2: “…we must humble ourselves in order to understand by faith what would never otherwise enter our hearts. That is the true preparation we need in order to take advantage of both the world and the word of God, when we allow ourselves to be taught by God after we have quelled all pride and presumptuousness. Now, in the first place, if men wish to cling to their knowledge and judgment, it will be incredible to them that the world was created six thousand years ago. For what was God doing from all eternity. In fact, shallow and imaginative people will never understand what the Holy Spirit gives witness to because they will always have their own answers….that is how it is that those who wish to exult in their senses will never understand what is shown here to bring them into subjection.” Later in the same sermon he describes what appears to be a nascent version of the nebular hypothesis of planetary formation, and responds with the words: “Could anyone think up a scenario more stupid than that?” Shall I too mourn—alas, a generation goes before me that knew not Calvin?

But returning to the matter at hand: What lies at the heart of the debate, then, is not the question of whether there is a relationship of between the exercise of power and right doctrine. To raise this as an objection is a canard, a distraction. Simply put, the politics of debate are inevitable, unless one is debating completely inconsequential matters. The creation of the world (and the exegetical and theological definition of the meaning of “the historicity of Adam and Eve”) cannot be deemed inconsequential. Thus, the question which really needs to be answered is the following: To what institution has God granted the authority to rule concerning such matters of doctrine? Is it a coordinated effort of the church and academy, or a divinely appointed representation of seminary, academy, machine shop, and law office in the officers seated in the courts of the church? And does the church have the authority to make pronouncements concerning doctrine that contradict the academy? Concerning the Virgin Birth? The Resurrection? The Ten Plagues? The Exodus (the historicity of which is denied by an overwhelming majority of biblical archaeologists)? The walls of Jericho? The creation of the world? Who decides?

If the answer is the representative courts of the church (and for a Presbyterian what else can it be?) then the matter of change, acquiescence, or honorable departure ought not be met with a charge of politicization, but a humble submission to God’s ordained structures of authority.

If Evans is indeed arguing for another player at the table, perhaps he may be the one who ought to reconsider raising the specter of power plays in the discussion of orthodoxy. Surely, recent history gives reason for careful reflection.

Peter VanDoodewaard (M. Div., B. Eng. Sc.) is an ordained minister serving Covenant Community Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Taylors, South Carolina.