The Traditions of the Elders - Glenn Conjurske

The Traditions of the Elders

by Glenn Conjurske

It never ceases to amaze me to see every Christian holding fast to the beliefs of his own church or sect, and regarding those beliefs as the very truth of God, while he supposes all other Christians to be in error. And this is as much a matter for grief as for amazement. He might see, if he would, that other Christians are as godly and as spiritual as those of his own sect, but bigotry blinds his eyes. He might with a little thinking perceive the weaknesses and inconsistencies of his own beliefs, but lukewarmness and laziness prevent his thinking. When I was a student at Bible school, I worked afternoons in the shipping department of a Christian organization. There were three men in the department, and we had many animated discussions on various points of doctrine and practice. In most of those discussions we were pitted two against one. The one who genereally opposed the other two of us was a rather hot-headed Baptist, ignorant enough, but as dogmatic as he was ignorant. He had determination if not ability, and could put up a vigorous argument for his position, but we usually backed him at length into a corner, where he could no more resist the force of our arguments. At that point he would say, “I’ll go ask my pastor what we believe.”

This is that combination of lukewarmness and bigotry which causes men to rest in the traditions of the elders. It stands upon the assumption that the beliefs of our own church are the truth of God, and it is too lukewarm or lazy to subject them to any real scrutiny. There is a great sense of security in such a position, and it does not like to be disturbed. Women, therefore, are especially prone to these things, for women do love security, and will cling to it very tenaciously, even at the expense of many other things.

Somewhere about fifteen or twenty years ago I had a couple of experiences which well illustrate this subjection of the mind to the traditions of the elders, and the subjects of it were not women, but men.

I was working two or three days a week in a large industrial plant. I had my own work room, between the manufacturing area in the back, and the offices in the front. There was another Christian in the plant, and we often ate our lunches together in my work room. We had many lively debates and discussions concerning doctrinal matters. He had been converted some years before, and immediately after his conversion two men had come to his door from the Reformed Baptist Church. He joined that church, and was of course a vehement Calvinist. I was a vehement former Calvinist, and many a vigorous debate did we have over Calvinism. But he was as firm in his position as I was, and no amount of Scripture or reason could move or moderate him. I determined therefore to address the matter from a new angle, and one day asked him soberly, “If soon after your conversion a couple of Arminians had come to your door, and you had joined an Arminian church instead of the Reformed Baptists, do you think you would be a Calvinist today?” He looked at me with surprise, apparently wondering how I could be so naive as to pose such a question, and immediately replied, “Well, no. Then I’d be an Arminian!”

This was no doubt the exact truth of the matter, and the very truth which I had hoped to elicit in posing the question. I was surprised indeed that he so readily acknowledged it, for to me it was self-evident that such a fact proved to a demonstration that it was not the Scriptures which were the basis of his theology after all. He believed what was taught him from the pulpit, and that was the whole extent of it. Whether that doctrine were true and Scriptural was not the issue at all. No doubt much that he was taught was true indeed, but there was much also that was false, and he took it all on the same basis. That basis was not the Bible, but the teaching of his elders. Yet he was unable to see any impropriety in this, and my strong argument was totally lost upon him. I suppose the practical universality of such a state of things among Christians must have blinded him to the obvious fact that such a state of things is wrong.

Perhaps a year or two later I had a visit with some evangelical Mennonites in northern Indiana. These men had full beards, but they all shaved the area around their mouths. Now it so happened that at that time I had a beard exactly matching their own. A beardless boy asked me if I had my beard for conviction or convenience. The question seemed a little strange to me, but, knowing nothing of the reason involved, I simply told him it was for convenience, and the matter was dropped. A while later, however, an older man asked me the same question, in the same words. I determined to get to the bottom of this, and replied, “Convenience. But how about yourself?” “Oh, conviction, conviction,” he said, with evident earnestness. I asked him, “What is the conviction?” Said he, “Oh, to be like Christ.” Said I, “Then why don’t you have a moustache?” Here was the moment of truth, and he replied very earnestly, “I’ve wondered about that.”

Now the plain truth was, his beard was no more the fruit of conviction than mine was. He was following the traditions of the elders, and that was the whole extent of it. If the elders had not shaved around their mouths, neither would he. He was even well aware of the apparent inconsistency, and yet followed the traditions of the elders. And it would have been as much to my purpose if, instead of asking him why he had no moustache, I had asked him, “Why then do you not wear a garment without seam, woven from the top throughout?”

But I wish to make it clear that I am speaking of conviction, not of conduct. I think it a praiseworthy thing to conform ourselves in conduct to the saints with whom we fellowship. Such conformity in conduct is a probable mark of humility and love. But mark, what we do and what we believe are two different things. The elders of a church have the authority to require conformity in matters of conduct, and the saints have the direct command of God to obey and submit to such requirements. No doubt elders are failing and fallible creatures, and it lies within the realm of possibility that they may mistake their own whims and notions—-yea, their own bigotry—-for the will of God, yet God requires submission to them. Suppose an elder does mistake a whim of his own for the will of God, and require something of the people which is not necessary according to the Scriptures, what great harm is this likely to do? If he is a man who is actually Scripturally fit for the place of an elder, he is not likely to ask anything sinful or ridiculous of anybody, and if he asks a woman to give up her curls, or a man his wine, it will not harm anybody to submit to this, though they cannot see any necessity for it.

But all of this concerns our conduct, which the elders in the church have the God-given right to regulate. Our convictions are not in question at all. A woman may give up her slacks, because the elders of the church require it of her, when she has no convictions at all on the subject—-or when she is certain there is nothing wrong with them. This is indeed the primary reason for the existence of authority in the church. If every man would do as he ought without any authorities over him, there would be no call for their existence. If every babe in Christ could see as well what he ought to do, as his elders can see, there would be no reason for the existence of elders.

But I will go even further, and affirm that the authorities in the church have the right to control the beliefs of the members, at least in certain matters. They are indeed responsible to do so, as a certain “church epistle” makes abundantly plain. I refer to the epistle of the Lord Jesus Christ “to the angel of the church in Pergamos.” To him he says, “I have a few things against thee, because thou HAST THERE them that HOLD THE DOCTRINE of Balaam. … So HAST thou also them that HOLD THE DOCTRINE of the Nicolaitanes.” (Rev. 2:14-15). ‘Tis strange indeed that this text has been so often used to contend that there ought to be no authorities ruling in the church at all—-no rulers, rule, or ruling class. Such an exposition of the text carries its own refutation in its hand. Suppose the Nicolaitanes to be, as the contention is, the rulers, who lord it over the flock. Lording it over the flock and ruling in the fear of God are two things. The former is of the flesh, the latter is of the Lord. This very text requires the angel to exercise authority. He is held responsible merely for having them there who hold evil doctrines. It is plainly his business, and he has but two alternatives—-to change them or put them out. It is as plain as day also that he is held responsible to exercise this authority not merely over the practice of the church, but over the doctrine. There is not a word in this epistle about evil conduct. Evil doctrine is the sole issue.

But having said this much to guard against any possible misconception, I again affirm that as a general rule the elders of the church have no right—-not that they have any ability—-to control the beliefs of the people. The epistle to the angel at Pergamos concerns evil and soul-damning doctrines, not questions about styles of head coverings or definitions of imputation. Paul pronounced a curse upon those who perverted the gospel, but he did not make a man a heretic who believed the Septuagint inspired, or the old serpent an orangutan. It is not possible to force every individual understanding into the same mould, and no elder need expect to accomplish it.

And altogether independent of the God-given authority of the elders of the church, every individual soul has the plain duty to “Prove all things,” and “Hold fast that which is good.” To prove all things is to examine them and test them. Those which will not stand the test of Scripture and reason are to be cast away. But to prove all things is a laborious process, and it may be a very painful one. ‘Tis easier, no doubt, to rest secure in the traditions of the elders.

Glenn Conjurske