As we read Acts 2, we see a clear sequence in the life of the early church. Luke writes: “So then, those who had received his word were baptized; and that day there were added about three thousand souls. They were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:41–42). All who repented and believed the gospel were baptized, and in doing so they were recognized as citizens of God’s kingdom and immediately became active members of the local church. Out of that new identity, they joined together in the Word, prayer, fellowship, and the breaking of bread.
This biblical pattern helps us see why membership is inseparably connected to participation in the Lord’s Supper. Paul writes, “We who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (1 Corinthians 10:17). That visible unity assumes a defined and counted people. In 2 Corinthians 2:6 Paul refers to discipline being carried out “by the majority.” That phrase only makes sense if the church knew who belonged to them, since a majority can only be known when the whole is counted. Hebrews 13:17 adds that elders must keep watch over the souls of those entrusted to them and will give an account to Christ. This shepherding cannot happen where there is no belonging. And part of that shepherding includes elders being able to affirm, by welcoming someone to the Table, that they are indeed a true believer walking in repentance and faith.
This is why church discipline and the Lord’s Supper go hand in hand. In 1 Corinthians 5 Paul commands the church to remove the unrepentant from their fellowship, using Passover imagery: “Christ, our Passover Lamb, has been sacrificed. Let us therefore celebrate the festival” (vv. 7–8). To be excluded from the church was to be excluded from the covenant meal. Discipline includes withholding the Supper from those who persist in unrepentant sin. But without membership, that discipline is impossible. To partake while refusing membership is to seek the benefits of belonging without the accountability Christ requires.
Our Baptist forefathers recognized this. The First London Confession (1644) restricted communion to baptized believers walking in obedience. The Second London Confession (1689) stated that the Supper is “to be observed in His churches until the end of the age” (30.1), and that “all who are admitted to the privileges of a church are also under its censures and government according to the rule of Christ” (26.12). The privilege of the Table cannot be separated from the accountability of discipline, nor from the responsibility of elders to guard the Supper and affirm the faith of those who come.
For these reasons, we ask that those who partake of the Lord’s Supper be members of a faithful, gospel-preaching church. This is not about excluding anyone harshly. It is about following the pattern Christ has given for our good. Repentance, faith, baptism, and membership prepare the way for communion at His Table. Through membership, believers share the ordinary means of grace, enjoy fellowship, hear the preaching of the Word, and partake of the ordinances in a protected environment under the care of Christ’s under-shepherds. In this way, the Supper becomes what Christ intended it to be: a covenant meal of the redeemed, shared in unity, truth, and love.
Article: Calvin’s Doctrine of the Lord’s Supper by Keith Mathison – original source: https://www.ligonier.org/learn/articles/calvins-doctrine-lords-supper
John Calvin is widely considered to be one of the greatest theologians of the Reformation era. Many associate his name with doctrines such as the sovereignty of God, election, and predestination, but fewer are aware that he wrote extensively on the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper. The topic occupied many of his sermons, tracts, and theological treatises throughout his career. Calvin’s emphasis was not unusual. Among the many doctrines debated during the Reformation, the Lord’s Supper was discussed more than any other.
By the time Calvin became a prominent voice in the late 1530s, the Reformers had been debating the Lord’s Supper with Roman Catholics and with each other for years. In order to understand Calvin’s doctrine of the Lord’s Supper, it is necessary to understand the views he opposed. Throughout the later Middle Ages and up until the sixteenth century, the Roman Catholic doctrine of the Mass was the received view in the Western church. Two aspects of the Roman Catholic doctrine require comment: Rome’s view of the Eucharistic presence and Rome’s view of the Eucharistic sacrifice.
According to Rome, Christ’s presence in the sacrament is to be explained in terms of the doctrine of transubstantiation. The doctrine of transubstantiation asserts that when the priest says the words of consecration, the substance of the bread and wine is transformed into the substance of the body and blood of Christ. The accidens (that is, the incidental properties) of the bread and wine remain the same. Rome also teaches that the Eucharist is a propitiatory sacrifice; in fact, the same sacrifice Christ offered on the cross. The Eucharistic sacrifice is offered for the sins of the living and the dead.
The Reformers were united in their rejection of both aspects of Rome’s doctrine of the Lord’s Supper. They rejected transubstantiation, and they rejected the idea that the Lord’s Supper is a propitiatory sacrifice. In his book The Babylonian Captivity of the Church (1520), Martin Luther attacked both of these doctrines. Also opposed to Rome’s doctrine was the Swiss Reformer Ulrich Zwingli. However, although Luther and Zwingli agreed in their rejection of Rome’s doctrine, they were not able to come to agreement on the true nature of the Lord’s Supper.
Zwingli argued that Christ’s words “This is my body” should be read, “This signifies my body.” He claimed that the Lord’s Supper is a symbolic memorial, an initiatory ceremony in which the believer pledges that he is a Christian and proclaims that he has been reconciled to God through Christ’s shed blood. Martin Luther adamantly rejected Zwingli’s doctrine, insisting that Christ’s words “This is my body” must be taken in their plain, literal sense.
Martin Luther argued that although Rome’s explanation of Christ’s true presence in the Lord’s Supper was wrong, the fact of Christ’s true presence was correct. He offered a different explanation for the presence of Christ. In order to understand his view, however, a brief explanation of some rather obscure theological terminology is required. Medieval scholastic theologians had distinguished various modes of presence, or ways of being present. They used the term local presence to describe the way in which physical, finite things are present in a circumscribed place. Spiritual presence described the way in which spiritual beings (such as angels, souls, or God) are present. Because this term was somewhat vague, other terms were used in order to be more specific. Illocal presence, for example, described the way in which finite spiritual beings (for example, human souls or angels) are present, while repletive presence described the way in which an infinite spiritual being (God) is present.
Zwingli argued that the only mode of presence proper to the human body of Christ was “local presence.” Therefore, according to Zwingli, Christ’s body is locally present in heaven and nowhere else until the Second Advent. Luther rejected Zwingli’s view, claiming that other modes of presence were proper to Christ’s human body — specifically the illocal mode of presence. Because Christ’s body can be present in an illocal manner, according to Luther, it can be present in the bread of the Lord’s Supper. In his Confession Concerning Christ’s Supper (1528), Luther argues that there is a “sacramental union” between the substance of Christ’s body and the bread resulting in a new and unique substance that Luther refers to as fleischbrot (“flesh-bread”). Thus, according to Luther, Christ’s human body is present in the Lord’s Supper supernaturally in a real and illocal manner.
Calvin’s first significant contribution to the subject appeared in the 1536 edition of his Institutes, by which time the battle lines had already been drawn. He continued to progressively clarify and explain his doctrine of the Supper over the next two decades. Calvin’s doctrine of the Supper was very much influenced by Luther, but others were just as instrumental in shaping his approach to the subject. Among those whose influence is discernible are Augustine, Philip Melanchthon, Martin Bucer, and Peter Martyr Vermigli.
Calvin followed Augustine in defining a sacrament as “a visible sign of a sacred thing” or as a “visible word” of God. The sacraments, according to Calvin, are inseparably attached to the Word. The sacraments seal the promises found in the Word. In regard to the Lord’s Supper, more specifically, it is given to seal the promise that those who partake of the bread and wine in faith truly partake of the body and blood of Christ. Calvin explains this in terms of the believer’s mystical union with Christ. Just as baptism is connected with the believer’s initiation into union with Christ, the Lord’s Supper strengthens the believer’s ongoing union with Christ.
All of this raises a question. How does Calvin understand the nature of Christ’s presence in the Supper? According to Calvin the sacraments are signs. The signs and the things signified must be distinguished without being separated. Calvin rejects the idea that the sacramental signs are merely symbols (for example, Zwingli). But he also rejects the idea that the signs are transformed into the things they signify (for example, Rome). Calvin argues that when Christ uses the words, “This is my body,” the name of the thing signified (“body”) is applied to the sign (the bread).
Calvin repeatedly stated that his argument with the Roman Catholics and with Luther was not over the fact of Christ’s presence, but only over the mode of that presence. According to Calvin, Christ’s human body is locally present in heaven, but it does not have to descend in order for believers to truly partake of it because the Holy Spirit effects communion. The Holy Spirit is the bond of the believer’s union with Christ. Therefore that which the minister does on the earthly plane, the Holy Spirit accomplishes on the spiritual plane. In other words, those who partake of the bread and wine in faith are also, by the power of the Holy Spirit, being nourished by the body and blood of Christ.
This, of course, raises a second question regarding the mode by which believers partake of the body and blood of Christ. Zwingli had argued that to eat and drink the body and blood of Christ was simply a synonym for believing in Christ. Calvin begged to differ. He argued that the eating of the body of Christ is not equivalent to faith; instead, it is the result of faith. Calvin often used the term “spiritual eating” to describe the mode by which believers partake, but he is careful to define what he means. He asserts repeatedly that “spiritual eating” does not mean that believers partake only of Christ’s spirit. “Spiritual eating” means, according to Calvin, that by faith believers partake of the body and blood of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit who pours the life of Christ into them.
Calvin also rejected the idea that we partake of the body and blood of Christ with the mouth. Not only Rome, but Luther and his followers, asserted the doctrine of oral manducation (that is, oral eating). According to the Lutherans, the body of Christ is orally eaten, but it is a supernatural or hyperphysical eating rather than a natural or physical eating. Both believers and unbelievers receive the body of Christ according to the Lutherans, although unbelievers receive it to their own judgment. Calvin denied that unbelievers receive the body of Christ at all. According to Calvin, the body and blood of Christ are objectively offered to all, but only received by believers.
According to Calvin, the Lord’s Supper is also “a bond of love” intended to produce mutual love among believers. It is to inspire thanksgiving and gratitude. Because it is at the very heart of Christian worship, Calvin argued that it should be observed whenever the Word is preached, or “at least once a week.” It should be shorn of all superstition and observed in its biblical simplicity. Calvin considered the Lord’s Supper to be a divine gift given by Christ himself to His people to nourish and strengthen their faith. As such, it is not to be neglected, but rather celebrated often and with joy.
Article “Observing the Lord’s Supper Weekly Makes It Routine—And That’s a Good Thing” by Scott Aniol.
Scott Aniol, PhD, is Executive Vice President and Editor-in-Chief of G3 Ministries. He lectures around the world in churches, conferences, colleges, and seminaries, and he has authored several books.
Original source: https://g3min.org/observing-the-lords-supper-weekly-makes-it-routine-and-thats-a-good-thing/
I’ve long been an advocate for weekly celebration of the Lord’s Supper for many reasons, not the least of which is that it is the God-ordained picture of the climax of our worship of God the Father, through the Son, in the Spirit, by faith—Communion with God.1 One thing I’ve noticed since I’ve been a part of churches that celebrated the Supper more frequently, and now weekly, is that observing the Lord’s Supper weekly makes it routine.
This reality is often raised as an objection to weekly Lord’s Supper observance. If we celebrate weekly, the objection goes, then it will become routine; it won’t be as special as when we celebrate monthly or quarterly.
Well, yes, weekly observance does make the Supper seem routine. I’ve come to expect it every week. The same passage of Scripture is read every week. Some of the same words are spoken every week. I hold the same cup and bread in my hands every week. We sing the same Doxology after eating every week. The Lord’s Supper has become routine.
And that’s a good thing.
Routines Reveal Our Priorities
When we establish routines for ourselves, our families, or our churches, we reveal what is important to us. They become routine because we have prioritized them so that they become so regular we simply don’t have to decide to do them anymore—they become a regular part of our lives.
Brushing your teeth every day is clear evidence that clean teeth is a priority to you. You don’t even have to think about it anymore—you wake up groggy, stumble into the bathroom, and grab your toothbrush. It’s habit. The fact that brushing your teeth has become a routine does not mean you don’t think clean teeth is important, rather the opposite.
The same is true for weekly celebration of the Lord’s Table—it reveals how important we believe the Table to be. Our children notice when we do something regularly. Without even telling them, they can see that it’s something important. A visitor who has attended a couple of times will recognize that this observance is something we prioritize.
And perhaps most importantly, routine celebration of the Table ingrains the importance of what we are doing on our own hearts. This fact leads to the next two reasons routine celebration of the Table is a good thing.
We Miss Routines When They Are Absent
When we establish something as a routine, we miss it when we don’t do it. We may hardly think consciously about the routine as we do it regularly, but if it’s gone, the absence is striking.
Dinner in your home is routine; no one in your family wonders if you’re going to eat dinner. When I ask my wife, “What’s for dinner tonight,” she doesn’t reply, “You’re assuming we’re having dinner?” No, it’s routine. But try skipping dinner one evening. Everyone would notice.
This was one of the biggest reasons I objected to trying to observe the Table “virtually” (an impossibility) during Covid lockdowns. It’s why I even objected to even trying to replicate a Sunday morning service through the internet at all. If we are unable to meet in person, we should feel the weight of that. If we can’t meet as we normally do for whatever reason, we should miss it. If we’re out sick or even traveling on vacation, we notice when we’re unable to do what has become routine to us.
This is a great benefit of routines. If celebrating the Lord’s Supper becomes routine, we come to expect it, and in some ways we don’t even think about it anymore. But if I were to walk into the sanctuary one week and the Table is not set, I would wonder why. It may take me a moment—something is different; something is missing, but I would feel its absence. If I’m away on a trip and unable to eat with my family, I miss it.
This is also the important connection between the Lord’s Supper and church discipline. When a church member is living in unrepentant sin, they are not barred from coming to church services. We want them there under the preached Word, experiencing the convicting work of the Holy Spirit through the regular means of grace he has prescribed for the church.
But an unrepentant church member is barred from the Table. We warn them not to eat in an unworthy manner. Don’t partake. And that is a means of grace for them, too. If your church only celebrates the Table quarterly or monthly, barring an unrepentant member from the Table wouldn’t seem like that big a deal. They might not even attend the day the Table is scheduled. But if you celebrate every week, then they will feel the weight of missing the privilege of eating with their church family at Christ’s Table, and that will be a means to bring them back to Christ.
Routines Form Us
When we really want to learn to do something, whether it be playing a musical instrument or excelling at a sport, we practice. Developing a good golf swing or learning to play the piano requires rehearsing the necessary skills over and over again. Skill development requires doing; it requires the cultivation of habits that become second nature.
The same is true for cultivating a life of communion with God that impacts every aspect of how we live—it takes practice. Holiness, according to Hebrews 12:14, is something a Christian must “strive for.” Paul told Timothy to train himself for godliness (1 Tim 4:7).
This is one of the most powerful, God-ordained purposes of the routines we develop in corporate worship—they form godliness within us. They are means of grace by which the Spirit of God progressively works his Word into our souls so that Communion with God, love for God, and living a life that is pleasing to him becomes, well, routine. We don’t have to think about it anymore. This is why Christians have traditionally called the elements of our worship, including the Lord’s Supper, “ordinary means of grace“—these are the primary means we should expect the Holy Spirit to ordinarily work his grace into our lives. That’s why they are ordinary; that’s why they are routine. Charles Spurgeon’s catechism reads,
The outward and ordinary means whereby the Holy Spirit communicates to us the benefits of Christ’s redemption are the Word, by which souls are begotten to spiritual life; baptism, the Lord’s Supper, prayer, and meditation, all by which believers are further edified in their most holy faith.
The routine, disciplined use of Word-prescribed means of grace, like the Lord’s Supper, progressively forms us into the image of Christ. They are the means by which we “work our [our] salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in us, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Phil 2:12–13). When we routinely celebrate the Lord’s Supper, communion with God through Christ becomes habit, and that forms us to live in light of that reality.
When faced with temptation, we resist, because pleasing God has become our habit. When we sin and break fellowship with God, we’re struck with an emptiness because communion with God has become routine. We miss it, and that compels us to repent and return to Christ.
Celebrating the Lord’s Table weekly reminds us every week what Christ did on our behalf to restore broken fellowship between God and his people, and we are progressively formed by that reminder. Eating and drinking gives us a God-appointed tactile experience of Christ’s broken body and shed blood for us, and that sanctifies us. This sanctification is not mindless, it is not an ex opera operato (“from the work worked”) sort of magical infusion of grace. We must indeed “draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith” (Heb 10:22). But it is Word-ordained routines that God uses as ordinary means of grace to form us into his image “from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18).
Celebrating the Lord’s Supper weekly will indeed become routine. But that is a good thing, because it is one of the most significant means by which we engrain the importance of the cross upon our hearts, keep us committed to fellowship with the body of Christ, and pursue Christlikeness in every aspect of our lives.
