Machen on the church
"the house of God and the gate of heaven"
by Brad Isbell
The closing paragraphs of J. Gresham Machen’s Christianity and Liberalism are among the most moving words he ever wrote, and they seem well-nigh prophetic 100 years later as ethnic and national strife again (or still) roil the church. After lamenting the state of the liberalizing mainline churches, their skewed mission, and their fading, worldly gospel, he ended the book in this way:
Sometimes, it is true, the longing for Christian fellowship is satisfied. There are congregations, even in the present age of conflict, that are really gathered around the table of the crucified Lord; there are pastors that are pastors indeed. But such congregations, in many cities, are difficult to find. Weary with the conflicts of the world, one goes into the Church to seek refreshment for the soul.
Gospel and gospel rest are in view here. The “table of the crucified Lord” does not only refer to the proper administration of the sacrament. Machen knew that the Lord’s table was of no benefit to church members unless the gospel framing the supper pointed them to the supernatural Jesus of the bible, the God-Man. This is why Machen spent considerable time earlier in the book on orthodox Christology. He also knew that a non-atoning “atonement” for people not convinced of their lost condition (thanks to milquetoast preachers of vague moral uplift) was not worthy of being called good news. Then as now, clear biblical gospel presentation was a rarity, as was a church focused first on the spiritual rather than the material.
The church, instead of a restful refuge for weary pilgrims and strangers, had become a job center, a feel-good clinic, and a lifestyle brand. Such, he said in chapter two, had not been true of the “Christian movement at its inception (which) was not just a way of life in the modern sense, but a way of life founded upon a message. It was based, not upon a mere feeling, not upon a mere program of work, but on an account of facts.” Machen knew that the primary work of the ministry was to proclaim the facts of the good news. And he knew that the church should be the most unusual of places—an auditorium that is also a free-admission hospital, a hospice, and a hostel.
Machen found that something else was on offer in the impressive churches of the 1920s:
And what does one find? Alas, too often, one finds only the turmoil of the world. The preacher comes forward, not out of a secret place of meditation and power, not with the authority of God's Word permeating his message, not with human wisdom pushed far into the background by the glory of the Cross, but with human opinions about the social problems of the hour or easy solutions of the vast problem of sin. Such is the sermon. And then perhaps the service is closed by one of those hymns breathing out the angry passions of 1861, which are to be found in the back part of the hymnals. Thus the warfare of the world has entered even into the house of God, And sad indeed is the heart of the man who has come seeking peace.
Many Christians today would also hear battle hymns rather than sing psalms of lament. The “angry passions of 1861” are still with us in slightly different forms. Discontent is the order of the day, and some still want the church to right every social and national wrong. What is lost is true worship with reverence and awe. And peace.
Is there no refuge from strife? Is there no place of refreshing where a man can prepare for the battle of life? Is there no place where two or three can gather in Jesus' name, to forget for the moment all those things that divide nation from nation and race from race, to forget human pride, to forget the passions of war, to forget the puzzling problems of industrial strife, and to unite in overflowing gratitude at the foot of the Cross? If there be such a place, then that is the house of God and that the gate of heaven. And from under the threshold of that house will go forth a river that will revive the weary world.
There is a battle and its Christian combatants do need preparation, but the preparation is gospel preparation for a spiritual fight against the world, the flesh, and the devil, and against error, unbelief, and despair. Machen’s vision is a church that does not encourage “civil” war against neighbors or imperial war against nations but against the powers of darkness. Gratitude for God’s blessings and faith in things unseen were the only sure bulwarks for the believer and the only reliable equipment for combat, be it offensive or defensive.
Look at what Machen’s generation faced: national and international strife, racial division, pride (the hallmark of the modern self!), passions for war, and industrial (read: economic and class) struggle—has anything changed?
Machen’s solution was simple, and it was as unimpressive to culturally-obsessed Christians in his day as in our own: worship. Churches heralding gospel truth, humbled under the cross, given to grateful praise—these places were the nearest believers would come to heaven in this world, to the very gate! And the world would benefit as waters flowed forth from a house, not from a fortress. Such was the church Machen longed for 100 years ago. May God grant us the same longing today.
Read the full text of Christianity and Liberalism; hear chapter 7 of the book read.
Ideally, Christians would be equipped by "[c]hurches heralding gospel truth, humbled under the cross, given to grateful praise" to go out and, "according to each one’s place and calling, remov[e] [all false worship], and all monuments of idolatry."
Which is what you should be arguing for, unless you've taken exception to WLC 108. Instead, you're effectively arguing that commitment to the ordinary means of grace requires political passivity on the part of Christians.
It doesn't. You're conflating the actions of individual Christians, who have multiple capacities other than that of members of the church, with the actions of the church as an institution.
We are Presbyterians, not Anabaptists. Stop it.