With the present issue we turn, once again to the subject which last had our attention in the December 1 Standard Bearer.

The reader may recall that in that article we concluded that “there can be no doubt about it that the church is actually and concretely manifest in gatherings of specific congregations at certain places and at stated times/’ Hence, we drew the conclusion that “the believer will not think lightly of his membership in the church in the world,” and that “he knows. . . . that it is therefore his obligation before God to belong to that gathering.”

The question now is: what is the implication of belonging to that gathering? Does it mean simply that a person has his name on the membership record of a certain congregation? Such is often the case today. We are all acquainted with the fact that today there are many who view their church membership in just that way. People they are who never or seldom see the inside of the church, who possibly make their appearance on Christmas, since that is traditionally a church holiday, or on Easter Sunday, since it has become the vogue to show off new spring outfits on that day and to join the Easter parade. For the rest they have no interest. If their conscience pricks them a little and if they are of the class who don’t easily miss a few dollars or even a few hundred, they send their check to the “Board of Trustees”, because after all they want to keep their pride in the church property as part of their civic pride and perhaps they want their minister to have as good a living as the next or as other professional men. But other than that they have no interest in the church except when they have to be buried and want to be eulogied before their bodies rot in the grave.

To be sure, there is something wrong with the church they attend. Of course, church discipline has long been discarded as obsolete and unloving and intolerant. And, as is usually the case in such an extreme case as the one cited above, the church has in every way made herself unworthy of the name church. For the preaching of the Word the philosophy of man has long since been substituted, and it isn’t at all difficult for the so-called preacher, who is a socially inclined gentleman anyway and has learned to get along well with his public and has rather enjoyed the benign philanthropies of these dead members, to extol them greatly when they finally lie in state in the church to which they belonged but did not attend while the breath of life was still in them. And sacraments in such churches are unknown or have become lost in formal christening ceremonies or fellowship suppers.

But just as surely there is something wrong, radically wrong, with such church members. One had rather be an atheist professedly or a heathen. Such a caricature of the church and such mock membership is not even worthy of respect from a worldly point of view. Men don’t even treat their membership in an athletic club or in the Chamber of Commerce or in a lodge with such haughty disdain. If they are devotees of the theater or the stage, they are faithful also then. If they are sports fans, you never miss them at an exciting event. But the church? That’s different.

Now it is difficult to say just which took place first, the decline of the institute or the degeneration of the membership. One never occurs without the other, cannot, in fact. And so we shall have to call them concomitant causes. Nor will it do, of course, if the question would ever arise, for the degenerate membership to blame the corrupt institute or vice versa. But at present we want to view the matter from the point of view of church membership.

You say: “Why not come closer home? We aren’t troubled by any such circumstances, and we all know that we should not live that way over against the church.” Well enough: let’s get closer home.

What church does Mr. Rich Apostate belong to? Well, it’s that Downtown Presbyterian Church. What kind of church is that? When was it organized? Where did it come from? Was it always the same kind of church that it is now? Did it always hold only one brief service at 11 a.m. on Sunday to accommodate the sleeping habits of its members? Did it always close its doors for a couple of months during the summer for an ecclesiastical vacation?

Why no! It was organized when the city was a little village stockade, way back when some God-fearing pioneers settled here. It is Presbyterian, that is, it had its origin in the English branch of the Calvinistic Reformation, through the instrumentality of that God-fearing Reformed John Knox. At one time the Word of God was faithfully proclaimed, the sacraments were properly celebrated, and church discipline was strictly maintained. Two services of at least an hour and a half were held every Sunday, and were faithfully attended by all the members, who came to church as families. Besides, there was probably a mid-week service; and the youth were instructed at an early age; and all in all it was a busy and flourishing congregation of Jesus Christ.

Gradually, however, changes took place. Some members had not enough interest and spiritual energy to attend these long services and listen to that doctrinal preaching twice in one day.—Besides, the trip to church was a long and cold one with the horse and buggy.—Their laxity came to the attention of the elders, and they were admonished. And it seemed to help for a while: most of the time they attended twice, that is, as long as the admonition of the elders was fresh in their minds. But, of course, attendance at a mid-week service was unthinkable; and, to say the least, the attendance of the children at catechism was very irregular. However, before long the same thing happened. And this time the elders became weary. The absence of these members went not unnoticed, but unadmonished. The tendency increased. With it all, of course, went an increasingly worldly attitude and a growing ignorance and a corresponding weakening in the offices of ministry and government. And finally, came a time when the church was even closed on Sunday afternoon and evening and the much-watered-down truth was proclaimed only once per Sunday. From then on developments came rapidly. The next time a minister was called, he was no dried up ecclesiastical prude but a sociable, up-to-date, well-educated and polished man, with a degree in philosophy from one of the best known universities in the country. He didn’t preach, but he gave a lecture every Sunday morning,—you know the contents. And on those beautiful summer mornings he wanted to go golfing with the rest of his congregation. The church doors were closed during the summer. No one minded if you didn’t attend when they were open. If you showed up occasionally, contributed well for the upkeep of the property and the $10,000 salary of Dr. Philosopher, attended all the luncheons and parties, and were willing to serve on the Board of Trustees occasionally, you were a member in good standing of the elite Downtown Presbyterian Church.

Fiction? Only to the extent that I used fictitious names. For not only is that the sad situation to be found in many churches today, but it is also the sad history of their degeneration.

If you would trace the history of all those churches which had their beginning in our country in the days before the Revolutionary War, in the days of the Pilgrim Fathers and the Puritans, you would find that in general it is exactly as I described it briefly above. Your modern Congregational and Methodist Churches in this country and your to-a-lesser-extent modern Reformed Churches were at one time orthodox, and even Calvinistically orthodox. But over the years tremendous changes took place, until today you have the lamentable picture I painted above.

And one of the contributing causes of such decadence is the sin of those who lightly esteem their membership in the church and are unmindful of their obligation to belong to that gathering and to gather with it. It is the sin of those who despise and willfully ignore the fact that the Word of Christ is addressed to the church and to the individual only as member, living member of the church. It is the sin of those who were not mindful that the Spirit of Christ was poured out in the church. It is the sin of those who presumed to say that they had no need of the regular ministry of the Word. It is the sin of those who forgot that the members of Christ’s church are members of His body and that therefore all individualism and independentism is ruled out in the church. It is the sin of those who followed not the urge of their regenerated heart, but the urge of the sinful flesh. And in last instance it is the sin of those who after all have no life of regeneration in them at all, who have no life, who are not members of His body, and who therefore can have no church life in the real sense of the word.

That, if we at all know the fear of the Lord, is indeed sin.

I have brought the matter closer to home, if you know how to read history. And I hope to apply this lesson from history in the light of the Word of God next time. But perhaps you have already discerned that the picture of the “oncer” and the “wanderer” or looper are to be found in the bit of history which I have traced for you.

And that, indeed, comes close to home, doesn’t it?

And oncerism is contrary to the fear of the Lord, isn’t it?