Baptism, Instruments, and “Playing the Hits”

Why we come back to the same old things

I’ve long been critical of the tendency in the churches of Christ to rehash certain basics of our doctrine over and over and over. It drives me insane when somebody preaches to a room full of Christians on how “baptism now saves you” and people come out saying “that’s real doctrinal preaching” and “he’s telling it like it is!”

Like an old rock band on tour, I want to put a spotlight on stuff people don’t hear as much. But like the rock band’s crowds, a lot of people just want the preacher (or writer) to “play the hits.”

To use another metaphor to explain my frustration, constantly revisiting baptism and the instrument is akin to a baseball manager’s pregame speech being, “Ok boys, three strikes is an out, and three outs is an inning” and the team saying “Good stuff coach, we needed to hear that.”

However, I’ve recently started to ponder as to why people want to go over the basics so often.

The most obvious reason we talk so much about baptism and instruments is because those are the doctrines that separate us. We don’t say the sinners prayer, and we don’t have a piano on stage. In its ugliest form, this becomes “everybody outside this building is going to hell.” In its more positive iterations it’s more like “here’s why God is pleased by what we’re doing.”

But those differences are fairly obvious to anybody who spends a Sunday among the churches of Christ. And anybody who’s been a member for more than a month or two knows exactly why we hold those beliefs.

So in our search we have to dig one layer further—why do we prioritize our distinguishing doctrines so much?

I believe the answer is this: ritual is comforting.

We think ritual is a bad word, but that comes from an ignorance of God’s way of operating. The first thing He did in the process of bringing them out of Egypt was to establish ritual holidays. Leviticus is nothing but ritual. Weekly assembling and partaking of the Lord’s Supper are rituals. We are creatures of habit. God knows that, because He made us this way.

Further, ritual reassures us that we are safe in Christ, loved of the Father, and sealed by the Spirit. Muslims say 5 prayers a day and do their fasts. Catholics recite the rosary and go to confession. Israelites offered a variety of sacrifices and observed feasts.

We don’t have anything ritual or liturgical like that for grounding. So, as doctrinally-focused people, we fall back on rehashing familiar doctrines. “You are saved in Christ because you have correctly followed the steps of salvation and engage in proper worship.”

Understanding this, I’m less frustrated. People need to be comforted through consistent practice, and we shouldn’t begrudge them that natural instinct.

However, we do need to channel the ritualistic instinct in more productive ways.

The plan of salvation is the milk of the Word we are supposed to use for nurture and growth into the deeper things of the Word (Hebrews 5:11-6:3). Keeping people there by centering our ritualism on the basics of the faith produces perpetual spiritual infants.

More importantly, it fails to provide what we’re seeking from ritual. Reminding ourselves of our rightness prompts many to wonder how sure we are that we’re right about every last doctrine, and what happens if we aren’t. And, the communal connection we derive from ritual is in constant jeopardy by any minor disagreement.

Doctrinal fundamentals bring us together, but it is shared practice that keeps us together.

So, we should revisit the plan of salvation from time to time, and we should always be ready to share it with the lost. But the saved shouldn’t need to be reminded of day 1 of the faith all the time.

That leaves us with this important question: what ritual should we be practicing?

If ritual is inevitable, and has clear benefits, what should ours be?

The possible suggestions are myriad, and I’m open to hearing any in the comments.

It would have to be something we do regularly. It would have to point to a core truth. It would have to be a practice we share in. And it would have to be a practice that provides reassurance of our salvation and belonging in God’s family.

I would argue that a more complete practice of the Lord’s Supper would do us a lot of good. And I don’t think it’s hard to see it checks all those boxes of what you expect of a ritual.

Yes, we already do it weekly. But if instead of a private ritual we turned it into one of that included corporate confession of sin followed by a direct, stated reminder that our sins have been forgiven, we would receive the comfort and reassurance we all seek.

Maybe people wouldn’t have to be told “You’re saved because you were baptized rather than saying the sinner’s prayer” and “You’re saved because there isn’t a piano on this stage” so regularly if they were hearing each week “You were saved when you were washed with this blood, and you continue to be saved as it washes away the sins you’re confessing.”

As for the communal bonds rituals create, if we were more protective of the table it would serve as the familial ritual it was meant to be. The realization that everyone partaking of the body and blood is a brother or sister in God’s family—and you’re one too—is powerful.

And if we actually had an opportunity to take a minute to talk to each other and pray and share together rather than just handing a plate to person next to you, it would accomplish the bond-creating purpose feasts have always accomplished.

Again, the second half of this article is more thinking out loud than anything. The main point is that we all seek ritual, and we could stand to develop some better ones in the churches of Christ.

Agree, disagree? Got a different suggestion? Be sure to leave a comment.

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