Note: Sources and the article this is a response to are listed here, at the bottom of the post.

Previously: (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)

Introduction

According to author R.E. Howard, “Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.” Whether or not the dictum is true, this paper will attempt not to prove. Nevertheless, it must be stated that Lusk’s inspection of baptism’s symbolism demonstrates a profound lack of understanding on the subjects of baptism and symbolism, turning upon sufficient inspection into an assembly of bad hermeneutics, logical fallacies, and misrepresentations of both topics at hand. Whether this arises from ignorance, haste inexcusable in a teacher, or malice the author of this paper does not care much at this moment. The fact remains that, however non-malign it’s origin, the position Lusk presents is wrong, and uncritical acceptance of it would, if pursued to its logical conclusion, lead to a variety of heresies.

Purpose and Direction of the Paper

This paper is not intended to provide a comprehensive view of baptism as a phenomenon or even of the ways in which baptism acts as a symbol. The purpose of this paper is two-fold: to demonstrate that baptism is indeed a symbol, through both positive explanation and by negation of Lusk’s argumentation, and to show the blatant lack of understanding Lusk displays when it comes to the topic of symbolism, particularly baptismal symbolism, as well as his other errors, to the end of demonstrating his unsuitability as an authority on the topic. This paper will not inspect any portion of Lusk’s paper except that portion starting at ‘But what is meant when baptism is called a sign?’ and ending with ‘The Word must accompany the sacramental action to explain what is happening’, particularly the five bullet-points and the paragraph following those.

Lusk asserts the following: “If God intended for baptism to be a picture, he seemed to make a poor choice of rituals. The outward rite simply does not picture what baptism is said to do.” He then purports to support his allegation with several test cases, interpreting each and expositing briefly on the topic of how this verse refers to a part of baptism which the physical act does not symbolize (which parts, by implication of his earlier statements, Lusk believes that baptism actually does). Lusk is wrong, and in the midst of his reasoning he demonstrates a dangerous level of ignorance or misapprehension of the nature of both symbolism and baptism, as well as a startling propensity for non-sequiturs, sloppy hermeneutics, and (hopefully) unintentional heresy (or at least grotesque transgression of orthodoxy). Lusk is wrong, and a careful assessment of the truth reveals that physical baptism is indeed a precise and beautiful symbol grounded in rich Biblical history.

This paper does not assert that baptism is an empty picture, a mere remembrance. This paper, however quietly, holds to the classic Reformed position of the Westminster Confession, wherein baptism is a sign and seal, but lacks inherent efficacy, particularly inherent efficacy to accomplish justification, adoption, or the miraculous portion of sanctification (justification and sanctification being separate, in contradiction of Roman Catholic teaching). That physical baptism can be a work carried out as a part of the working out of sanctification, as per James, the manifestation of faith in life, is of course accepted.

The author of this paper realizes further that he lacks the heaping laurels of reputation which Lusk has accrued to his name. Nevertheless, the exercise of said author’s intellect can operate full well without such achievements, and in pursuit of the commendation of the Bereans (Acts 17:11), he has applied it to the teachings presented in the paper in question. The reader is therefore implored to compare not authority but cogency, not reputation but correspondence to truth. Ultimately, if the words of the man who rules the world, the man whose intellect has outmatched the minds of a thousand others combined, if the words of this man fail to achieve congruence with the Word of God, then in this singular failed achievement the earth ought to see a condemnation outmatching any mortal commendation. May God judge who is in the right, the author, Lusk, or another entirely, and may the truth become plain, either in this discourse or by another means.

The reader may have a question here: ‘What is the importance of the topics involved in this paper? Why should I not settle for the uncertainty or disagreement I currently possess?’ The positions Lusk’s arguments against symbolism would necessitate include a denial of justification by faith alone, something which, according to Galatians 1, is anathema. To attempt blurriness or dialectal tension in that situation would be akin to chopping half-way through one’s own wrist, bandaging the unhurt side, and calling it sophisticated because the hand is only half removed. That not all of the problems are so grave is true, but some of them approach that level or could, in the case of the tendency to eisegesis, lead to such errors with time. Scripture’s position on baptism as a symbol is clear; it is not for man to disregard Scripture. It is not for man to say he does not know the truth when God has revealed it.

Thus, the two purposes of this paper should lead the reader to the following two conclusions: that baptism is indeed a symbol, albeit that does not render it an empty remembrance (in analogy to Communion, the paper’s position mirrors Calvin rather than Zwingli or Luther) and that Lusk is not qualified (by virtue of prideful ignorance, dull-wittedness, or malice) to speak upon the matter of symbolism or baptism. To be clear, if the arguments in this paper cannot be refuted, Lusk must be one of these three; an informed, intelligent, well-intentioned man (one who, by virtue of these characteristics, has taken the time to consider his position fully when he teaches upon matters of eternal import) would not make the errors found herein.

Definition of Baptism and Symbolism

What is symbolism? Symbolism is the use of one entity (an object, behavior, etc.) to convey information through its similarities (partial) to another entity (often abstract or spiritual), which similarities are partial and not complete by virtue of the entities being distinct, as a symbol in possession of absolute similarity to the symbolized is not in fact a symbol but a facsimile. Examples of symbols abound: words, letters, flags, and liturgical robes all count. How? First, a word on categories must be had. Symbols fall into two categories, here named ‘inherent’ and ‘assigned’. Inherent symbols possess an integral resemblance to that which they symbolize, a resemblance placed there by God and clear through intuition. Assigned symbols possess a resemblance given by man, whether through convention or specific intent; to some extent, Biblical symbols could also be seen as falling into this category, except that God, not man, provided the new level of meaning to them, a meaning clear from the Bible and not pure intuition. The keen reader will discern that inherent symbols are assigned symbols, except God did the assigning very early on, provided to man an intuitive understanding of them.

Words are symbols. The sounds and shapes (letters) by which man communicates are not intrinsically part of the meaning, as can be seen by the existence of multiple distinct languages. ‘Amo’ and ‘ammo’ are different words for different things in different languages, ones that may by some by pronounced the same. They are not intrinsically part of their meaning or vice versa, but they symbolize that meaning nonetheless. Flags are symbols of many things but most generally of allegiance. The American flag possesses a meaning granted to it by its association with the nation and with that nation’s history because the American flag symbolizes America (and all that America means to those who see it). These are both assigned symbols; an example of an inherent symbol would be apropos. Thankfully, the discerning reader has to look no farther than Mark 15:16-20. The crown of thorns which the soldiers place upon Christ’s head is a symbol, an inherent symbol. It possesses an ineluctable resemblance to a king’s crown. From that resemblance it derives its meaning; through its differences it acquires the fullness of its meaning. Without the symbolic resonance between the crown of thorns and the gold crown of a king, the difference between agonizingly sharp thorns and well-smithed gold would be a difference without meaning; with the resemblance, that difference assumes a great import.

Physical baptism and spiritual baptism are two different phenomenon which must be explained in the reverse order, as the first symbolizes the second and is therefore reliant upon it. Spiritual baptism is the name given by theologians (see more below as to the term ‘baptism’ itself) to the process of imputation and regeneration which is the operative force of justification (as well as adoption) and the beginning of sanctification. In spiritual baptism, the man, being elected by God to salvation and not damnation, is, by faith, united to Christ in His death and in His resurrection. The sins of the man are imputed to Christ in His death; by this death, which is the just punishment for sin (death, as the full and just punishment for sin, removes the guilt of that sin from the person who dies both spiritually and physically, his wages having been paid; thus, death is a cleansing (a removal) of sin (Romans 6:23)), Christ atones for the sin, cleansing it from the record of the originator and Himself. The righteousness of Christ is imputed to the man in His resurrection, making him not only sinless but superlative in active righteousness, deserving, in the eyes of God, not only of not being punished but of being rewarded. In this death and resurrection, the man is re-born, re-made; this new, spiritual birth (John 3:1-8) is the nativity of his new conscience, a conscience no long enslaved to sin, a conscience ever more reflective of the new reality of his enslavement to God (1 Peter 3:21; Romans 6:5). All this, moreover, is the work of God, not man, brought upon him by the faith given him by his Creator. This is spiritual baptism, wherein man is cleansed (‘baptized’ being a derivative of the Greek word for ‘cleansing’, bearing an implication of a changing cleansing, rather than just a superficial rinsing (Studylight)) of his sins.

Physical baptism provides a beautiful, accurate picture of this process. A man is cleansed with water physically to reflect the spiritual cleansing of death (a symbol which calls upon the imagery of the Flood as well, alongside the death of Pharaoh’s army). Washing with water is a classic Biblical symbol for cleansing and making holy in a spiritual sense. In Numbers 8, for instance, the Levites are instructed to sprinkle the “water of purification” upon themselves (6-7). Here physical cleansing is used as a symbol for spiritual cleansing. The Levites, to be fitting offerings to God (8:14-19), must be perfect, spotless, without blemish (Exodus 12:5; Leviticus 1:3); thus, they are symbolically washed of sin in preparation for their holy duty. Similarly in Leviticus 8, referenced by Lusk himself, the first part of Aaron’s preparation for the high priesthood (and his sons’) is being washed with water by Moses, God’s prophet, who was as God to the Egyptians, a clear presaging of baptism applied to the already regenerate (Leviticus 8:6; Exodus 7:1). Death, as shown above, cleanses from sun, just as water washes from filth. Once again, death is a washing of sin; water baptism is a washing of dirt (in its purely physical component, prior to the addition of its symbolic meaning). The physical, water baptism, corresponds to the spiritual, death. This cleansing, this symbolic death, is visited upon the Christian by the officiant, symbolizing God, and not by the believer himself, lest any man should boast (Ephesians 2:9). Then the water ceases to be applied; death is passed through. In forsaking this symbolic death, the man states a faith that Christ has resurrected him from his spiritual death, by symbolically being resurrected. This, furthermore, is the birth of a new part of his identity: the man is now openly a member of the church of God. All this symbolism, however, is worse than nothing for the man who knows not God because, as Calvin said, the “whole energy” is ascribed to God, not man (Institutes, Book 4, Section 9). In other words, the physical baptism’s efficacy relies entirely upon the efficacy of the spiritual baptism; its efficacy is therefore reliant entirely upon the work of God and God alone. In the life of the one who is not elect and therefore unsaved, physical baptism is a blatant and damning lie, a symbol of something which has not happened and therefore an empty gesture in the eternal scheme. It may, true, be a blessing within that person’s life, but through eternity, he who is so blessed and who spurns God will be cursed yet more for his dereliction (Luke 12:48). Physical baptism is thus a representationally effective, inherent symbol of spiritual baptism, with further weight assigned to it by the Biblical context.

The terminology of ‘spiritual baptism’ and ‘physical baptism’ may appear to open up this paper’s position to the question, ‘Why don’t you just interpret baptism as baptism? Surely when the Bible writes about baptism, it’s writing about the ritual, not some spiritual happening the word only refers to metonymically.’ This objection makes sense on the surface, but is lacking in merit. Why? The Greek word usually translated ‘baptism’ does not mean the physical ritual. The Greek word used for ‘baptism’ means ‘cleansing’ (roughly). In context, it can refer either to a physical ritual or a spiritual event. The physical meaning is, of course, the default, being the basic meaning of the word, but the use of a word (washing, for instance, in Titus 3:5, as Lusk himself acknowledges) to mean a spiritual happening which that word’s literal meaning bears a resemblance or symbolic relation to, this use is common practice not only in the Bible but in the whole of human speech regarding such matters. When God says in Zechariah 13:9 and Malachi 3:3 that He refines His people as if they were gold, He’s not saying that He literally melts them down, lets the slag rise to the top, skims it off, and pours the remaining people-stuff into a mold. He’s saying that He will put them through a process analogous to refining, on a spiritual level. What’s important here is that the choice to take ‘baptism’ as either physical or spiritual is not a choice of translation but of interpretation. Interpreting (the Greek word for) ‘baptism’ as spiritual or physical is not eisegesis. It is not the imposition of a desired doctrine upon the text in contravention of its plain meaning. Both meanings are possibilities, and careful, systematic, Biblical analysis must be used in each case to determine which is intended by the Author.

Galatians 3 Response:

The nature of baptism as a fitting symbol for death thus established, the first of Lusk’s five bullet-points comes into contention: his interpretation of Galatians 3:27. Lusk contends that, “It is hard to see how putting water on someone’s head ‘pictures’ clothing with the priestly garment of Christ.” While there is certainly some similarity between garments and washing with water- they both involve the placing of something upon a person’s exterior and the changing (for the better, hopefully) of their appearance-, Lusk is correct to note an apparent lack of strong correspondence between baptism and garments; the above correlations are tenuous at best. The problem with his argument does not lie here but in the hidden assertion: that baptism should share symbolism with the putting on of the garments. Leviticus 8 and Galatians 3, after all, imply no such thing. The garbing of the priests and the washing of the believer (or the priest) are kept separate from each other, both explicitly and implicitly, in both passages.

The central verse of Lusk’s argument runs (in the ESV), “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Galatians 3:27). This passage, insofar as it speaks of physical baptism, does not equate it with the putting on of Christ, as will become obvious upon evaluation of spiritual baptism and its relationship to the putting on of Christ. First, the meaning of ‘baptism’ in this context must be examined. Baptism is in this passage qualified as being ‘into Christ’. Thus, if this is taken to refer to physical baptism, the only physical baptisms to which it actually refers must be those accompanied by either previous or subsequent spiritual baptism, as those are the only physical baptisms to actually be ‘into Christ’. If, however, this is taken as a reference to spiritual baptism, the entire passage is simplified. This taken as granted, all physical baptisms which correspond to spiritual baptism, being baptisms of the elect (unknowable to man in this world), would be included but not causal. Second, the relationship between baptism (spiritual, and physical only by consequence) and ‘putting on Christ’ must be understood. In spiritual baptism, man dies; in its cessation, man is resurrected, both being in Christ, as per Romans 6:5. In this resurrection, man puts on Christ’s righteousness, garbing Himself in the eyes of God with the merit of the second Person of the Trinity, this being the second part of double imputation and essential to justification. Thus, the putting on of Christ follows spiritual baptism as being a part of the same process, as being a different part of the same process; insofar as they overlap, in symbolizing respectively regeneration and the resurrection in which regeneration is accomplished, they remain still separate symbols, partially united in meaning but not in identity (two symbols can symbolize the same entity, usually with differing emphases, e.g. a national flag and a country’s name). ‘Different’ and ‘separate’ are here the operative words. This relationship can be seen in how Galatians 3:27 relates the two without equating them. Paul, after all, does not use a ‘to-be’ verb (ειμι) to indicate that baptism and putting on Christ are identical; he indicates instead that the second correlates to the first, implying the connection to strongly as to nearly state it, a connection not causal or of congruency but definition, in that they are both integral parts of the same process, justification. They are related but separate.

Lusk notes, with undoubted merit, that Galatians 3 should be understood in light of the Levitical priesthood’s purification and cleanliness code, particularly as found in Leviticus 8. If Leviticus in that passage equates washing and the putting on of garments, it would provide sufficiency ground to ask where in baptism this putting on of Christ is symbolized. Again, however, Leviticus 8 presents a clear distinction between the washing and the garbing to the priests. The only verse in Leviticus 8 to indicate washing is verse 6, “And Moses brought Aaron and his sons and washed them with water.” Additionally, if ‘washing’ is extended to cover ‘smeared with blood’, a related if distinct symbol, verses 15, 19, 21, and 23-24 could be included, although this would be a dubious procedure at best, given that they are different symbols. At any rate, neither washing nor blood-smearing appears in verses 7-9 or 13, or in sentences connected to those; in other words, the verses and sentences containing ‘washing’ and the verses containing ‘robing’ are quarantined from each other (7-9 and 13 being the only verses to mention the act of robing the priests). The order of operations is clear and provides no reason to blur the different parts of the ceremony into each other: Aaron and his sons are washed with water by Moses, then first Aaron and second his sons receive the ceremonial garments of his position. The garments and the washing are sequential, not simultaneous, and no reason is provided to weld them together. They are related, certainly, but they are distinct.

Lusk argues that Galatians 3:27 and Leviticus 8, taken together, indicate a necessity of (physical) baptism symbolizing the garbing of the believer in Christ if it is to symbolize anything, basing this argument off of a proposed equation between the act of being baptized and the putting on of Christ. In that premise, however, the argument finds its first fatal flaw, as no such equation can be discovered in either Galatians 3:2 of Leviticus 8. Galatians 3:27, first, indicates a correlation between two phenomenon or characteristics, a correlation which, in context of the rest of the Bible, arises from the fact that baptism and the putting on of Christ are respectively a symbol (a sign and seal, as this verse specifically defines the baptism as hand as the baptism of those actually saved, using the words ‘into Christ’ to do so) and an image (not entirely different from a symbol, but different enough to warrant distinction, as the putting on of Christ is not a ceremony or procedure physically undertaken by the believer) of two parts of the process of redemption, death (resulting from imputation of sin) and the imputation of Christ’s righteousness (resulting in resurrection). As Romans 6:5 says, those who died with Him, a process symbolized in baptism, are also raised with Him, a process proceeding from the imputation of His righteousness, a.k.a. the happening which the putting on of Christ images. Meanwhile, Leviticus 8 separates the washing and the robing of the priests: the two events are clearly distinct, non-equated. Lusk’s argument here has no merit due to a fundamental mischaracterization of the verses it relies upon, even discounting the shaky validity of saying that two symbols for the same phenomenon must overlap to the extent of including each other.

Titus 3 Response:

Lusk offers this interpretation of Titus 3:5: “In Titus 3:5, Paul calls baptism ‘the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit.’ Baptism is the sacrament of the new birth. But it will not do to say that baptism ‘pictures’ this new birth. I have had the joy of watching my wife give birth three times now, but never in the delivery room did I witness anything that looked remotely like a baptism. In no obvious way does baptism picture regeneration.” Lusk’s interpretation rests both upon an equivocation between ‘washing of regeneration’ and ‘(physical) baptism’ and upon an un-Biblical reading of new birth and regeneration. In truth, this passage speaks of spiritual baptism (so called by analogy, not because it is reliant upon the physical baptism) and of the spiritual new birth of a man whose nature is changed, who once was dead but now lives (Luke 15:24).

In Titus 3:5, Paul’s words (“the washing of regeneration”) do not refer to physical baptism. They refer instead to a washing equated to or qualified as ‘regeneration’ (one of the secondary uses of the ‘of noun’ formulation). This can be shown in several ways. First, the word ‘washing’ here is not the word for baptism (Studylight). It is, in fact, a word used of the washing which Christ applied to the church in Ephesians 5. That it is related to baptism is, of course, not disputed, but ‘washing’ is not in this passage equated with ‘baptism’ by the words used. Second, the context rules out the interpretation of ‘washing of regeneration’ as physical baptism. The earlier part of this same verse says this: “He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to His own mercy”. Physical baptism is a work done in righteousness (as later portions of this paper will explain, the only ways to avoid this run into grave errors). That salvation is accomplished through the ‘washing of regeneration’ therefore disqualified physical baptism, a work done in righteousness. Third, attempting to substitute ‘physical baptism’ for ‘washing of regeneration’ here produces an odd implication: that baptism saves man by His grace (Titus 3:5-6). After all, what else could the verse refer to? This interpretation therefore would support baptismal regeneration in the strongest sense possible (short of immediate glorification, possibly), given the truth of the perseverance and divine preservation of the saints. All in all, ‘washing of regeneration’ cannot refer to physical baptism.

What then does Paul mean by ‘washing of regeneration’? Put simply, he refers here to the death and resurrection of the saint in Christ by His grace. In death the Christian is cleansed (washed) of his sin, by its imputation to Christ, and in resurrection alongside Christ, the Christian is re-born, made anew, regenerated; furthermore, the righteousness of Christ is imputed to Him, rendering Him not only sinless but truly perfect in the eyes of God, a regeneration not only of his current state but of his eternal record. This death which leads into resurrection is the beauty which physical baptism represents; this death is spiritual baptism. The washing herein accomplished has the quality ‘of regeneration’ in that it is through this death and resurrection that regeneration is accomplished.

Lusk, however, is not content with this single grievous error. Even if physical baptism were to be identified with the actual happening of regeneration, Lusk’s argument would be wrong, for one simple reason: this is a re-birth of the spirit, not the flesh. This error is fatal to Lusk’s argument because he demands baptism resemble physical birth, when it symbolizes rather spiritual birth. How so? Christ says in John 3:5, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” While at first glance this may seem to be an endorsement of physical baptism as a means of salvation (a patently heretical idea, at least taken at face value, given its introduction of works of man’s righteousness in a manner akin to the philosophy of the Judaizers), the section reading ‘born of water’ should be read rather as a reference to spiritual baptism (in symbolic language), to that which the water represents, to the death and resurrection of the Christian in Christ. If physical baptism were here indicated, Nicodemus’s skepticism would be well warranted. Regardless, in demanding that baptism resemble physical birth, Lusk commits the error of Nicodemus, who asked, “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” (John 3:4). The birth which physical baptism symbolizes, the resurrection (a changing from not-life to life, just as birth is a changing from not-life to life; that the initial state differs is a product of resurrection’s nature as a second birth, a re-birth, and is therefore not a problem for the equation of resurrection to new birth), this birth is spiritual (John 3:6). That Lusk commits this error, therefore, should prompt the reader to ask not only, “Are you [Lusk] the teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things?” (John 3:10) (bracketed section added), but whether Lusk has considered how his requirement that baptism reflect physical birth directly contradicts the entirety of John 3:1-15. Physical baptism reflects spiritual baptism (washing), reflect resurrection (which is the second birth and the happening of regeneration); it does not reflect the birth of the flesh which Lusk asks it to picture.

Lusk’s denunciation of baptism as a symbol requires that physical baptism picture physical birth. Both terms of this requirement, however, fall apart under inspection, rendering the whole argument null. The baptism which Paul here speaks of is not physical baptism primarily but spiritual baptism, the washing which attends and produces regeneration. The birth which Paul here alludes to is, as per John 3:1-15, not a physical but a spiritual birth, a resurrection. Thus, when Lusk argues that baptism is not a symbol, when he says so on the grounds that physical baptism is the primary concern in play and that physical birth is what ought to be symbolized and not spiritual (which is resurrection), he plays with multiple false presuppositions. Physical baptism is not indicated, and physical birth is explicitly disinclined (albeit by another passage). With these two failures, Lusk’s argument cannot stand; it turns only to the grave for its ending.

Romans 6 Response:

The third of Lusk’s bullet point contends that, in light of Romans 6, “Baptism is a kind of wedding ceremony, joining the one baptized to Christ in a covenantal relationship. But… the rite itself looks nothing like the covenant-making ceremony that it is said to be.” This statement can take one of two interpretations: the first, that it states baptism to be, like marriage, a covenantal ceremony (though Romans 6 does not support baptism as a ceremony creating or establishing a covenant; it is in conjunction with other scriptures that the role of physical baptism as a symbol of the covenant becomes obvious), a position which would not further Lusk’s point, as two different ceremonies for two different covenants are simply to be expected; second, that it states baptism to be equivalent to (or a kind of, in this case distinction without difference) marriage. The first being manifestly useless to Lusk’s case, this paper will endeavor to answer the second. To note the difference between the typical Christian marriage ceremony and the ceremony of baptism is correct. In equating baptism to a spiritual marriage ceremony, however, Lusk not only raises marriage to a sacrament, al a Roman, in the process demolishing one of the central arguments of classic Protestantism against the celibacy requirements of Catholic ascetics, he implies a theology which would justify polygamy, possibly even demand it, while requiring all women who are married to be simultaneously plural (possessed of many members) and singular, among other issues. In truth, baptism and marriage are not reflective of the same truth or the same covenant; baptism symbolizes the death which all believers die with Christ in His death, and marriage mirrors (derives its authority from) the relationship between Christ and His true church, the body of all the believers, as can be seen in the language of Romans 6 and elsewhere.

Romans 6:5, the crux of Lusk’s argument (it defines what Paul means by ‘uniting’ or being baptized into Jesus Christ and is the most credible choice of a verse in Romans 6 with which Lusk might support his position), uses a peculiar word for ‘unite’ when it says, “For if we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.” This word is ‘συμφυτοι’, ‘symphutoi’ when transliterated, and it does not refer to marriage or to a bond equivalent thereto. This passage is, in fact, the only place in the entire New Testament that uses this word. According to Thayer’s definition (which is echoed, albeit in less detail, by both Strong and Mounce), this word means, “Born together with, of joint origin: connate, congenital, innate, implanted by birth or nature; grown together, united with; kindred” (Studylight). In other words, ‘united’ in this passage refers to brotherhood (or a blood kinship) not marriage. Romans 6:5 might, with some liberties taken, be read, ‘For if we have been made brothers with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be made brothers with Him in a resurrection like His.’ Why is this important? As stated above, this passage defines what Paul means when he says in Romans 6 “baptized into Jesus Christ” (2). Verse 2, after all, establishes that baptism is a baptism into death, the state of being united with Christ. This is not to say verse 2 establishes the inherent efficacy of baptism; any person not elect is implied not have been baptized into Christ (in verse 3, which implicitly divides baptisms between ‘into Christ’ and ‘not into Christ’), thus negating any inherent efficacy, while verse 6, by placing the death of the Christian at the death of Christ and not at physical baptism (which symbolizes death), entirely shatters all temporal bonds between physical baptism and the spiritual reality. Nevertheless, such discussions are a side-tangent, only tangentially pertinent to the point of this section. Verse 5, in context of verse 2, is, as Lusk recognizes, speaking of what it means to be in Christ’s death, the entrance into which is symbolized by physical baptism. Verse 5, therefore, being entirely disconnected from the marriage covenant Lusk implies it to speak of, renders Lusk’s interpretation of the entire passage null, as baptism is thereby not required to symbolize or accomplish marriage.

Lusk’s equation of marriage and baptism also leads to strange places in regards to both marriage and ecclesiology, arising from the correspondence of marriage to Christ’s relationship with the church and from the use of baptism to symbolize death throughout the New Testament. The first problem is this: conflating marriage and baptism, while bearing in mind the status of baptism as a symbol of death, results in a second sacrifice of Christ at A.D. 70. The second problem is this: conflating marriage and baptism, when bearing in mind the origin of marriage and the composition of the church, results in a violation of basic logic, the partial justification of polygamy (the logic error unfortunately makes the justification’s end result semi-incoherent, if necessary), the fragmentation of the church, and a charge of adultery for every baptized and married Christian.

The culmination of marriage, the archetype which provides its basis, is the marriage feast of the Lamb in Revelation 19, the union of the church with Christ after the final divorce of Israel in A.D. 70. Of that time Scripture says, “For the marriage of the Lamb has come, and His Bride has made herself ready” (Rev. 19:7). If baptism and marriage are indeed an establishing of the same- or an equivalent- covenant, then the reader would expect two things: first, that some of the imagery of baptism, the imagery of washing, would appear, second, that death would figure heavily in the proceedings, given the integral connection between baptism and death in many other passages. How unfortunate, then, for Lusk’s case is it that washing is never a concern in Revelations 19:6-10; the closest it approaches is in speaking of the garbing of the Bride, imagery already proven separate from baptism above (or at least proven to provide no basis for associating baptism with the proceedings). How fortunate, further, for the integrity of historic Christian orthodoxy that ‘death’ does not figure as a part of the ceremony, that neither the Bride nor Christ Himself suffers death on an occasion clearly distinguished from the Crucifixion. If death were to be forced into this ceremony, even purely by equating the covenants, as Lusk implies a desire to do, one of the two participants at least would be required to die; in context of other passages regarding baptism, which symbolizes the union of the believer with Christ in His death, both persons, the Bride (the church) and Christ Himself would have to die. To force this on the passage at hand would, however, not only be eisegesis on an incredible scale, it would be injecting a second sacrifice of Christ, whose death was, according to Romans 6 itself, “Once for all” (6:10). In other words, so associating baptism to marriage would, if carried to its logical conclusion, be baseless heresy, akin to the horrors of the Roman Catholic mass, albeit more daring in what other portions of Scripture it chooses to defile, for it would sacrifice Christ a second time, while simultaneously killing the corporate church (and presumably adding in another resurrection, as marriage is not a ceremony for the dead but the living), all without any basis within either Romans 6 or Revelations 19.

The second accusation is this: the conflation of marriage and baptism results in a violation of basic logic, the partial justification of polygamy, the fragmentation of the church, and a charge of adultery for every baptized and married Christian. This is a long and vivid list, but ultimately it comes down to the fact that the Bride of Revelations 19, like the wife of Ezekiel 16 and the ‘body’ of 1 Corinthians 12, is a corporate, composite entity, whereas the person being baptized (and the person engaging in human marriage) is invariably a singular, non-composite entity. When equating the baptismal ceremony to a marriage (as, once again, Lusk must do in order to make his point), the ceremony thus implies that one participant, the bride (and the person being baptized), is a corporate, composite, singular, non-composite entity, an obvious violation of the basic principle of non-contradiction. Furthermore, in this equation, the church is implied to be composed of many different smaller editions of itself. How so? If the person being baptized is engaging in marriage to Christ (as He is the only possible other participant, unless baptism is some sort of mass polygamy scheme on the part of the clergy, wherein the officiant is wed to the parishioner), then this person is taking the place of the church as a whole; he is also, for a real mind-screw, by baptism rendered a part of the church, thus becoming a church to himself in the same instant as he becomes part of the church. Furthermore, as the church’s relationship to Christ is the archetype of marriage (along with Israel’s relationship, to a lesser extent, which has a whole other set of implications regarding circumcision not to be addressed here), the new nature of the church as being composed of a few billion churches would imply that the bride in any human marriage should be composed of a few billion brides. At the very least, the mass polygamy occasioned in the church-Christ relationship by every baptism being a marriage would justify all Christian marriages being massively polygamous in kind, would justify a view of the church as being a recursive fractal (this is important here mainly in its obvious absurdity), and would imply every baptized Christian woman who marries a human male to be adulterous (or a practitioner of diandry) by virtue of already having been wed (while all Christian men would be engaging in homosexual marriage and, with homosexual union being thus divinely consecrated, they would also be engaging in adultery if they married). As all of these results are obviously anti-Biblical, the whole equation of marriage to baptism must be abandoned, given these results cannot be separated from it due to their nature as logical consequents and not extraneities; this logical necessity leaves Lusk in the unenviable position of either advocating irrational heresy or presenting an argument which stumbles before it can even prove its point.

While the above extensive refutation of Lusk’s possible equation of marriage to baptism might be condemned on grounds that he did not, in fact, posit such an equation (no reasonable person would), the fact remains that if he did not posit the equation, he presented an argument with an equally obvious, if much simpler, fault, as if he merely intended to say that two different ceremonies symbolizing (or establishing) two different covenants, one between two humans and one between a man and his Creator, that these two ceremonies differed and therefore one of them could not be symbolic, by virtue of not representing another, very different covenant (which has an institution apparently symbolic, if Lusk’s implications are to be believed), the only conclusion of the reader should take from the bullet point would be, ‘He didn’t think that through’. To be fair, though, despite the absurdity of this option, the alternative’s horrors, as shown above, would likely elicit the same reaction. It being taken as true, therefore, that Lusk’s apparent position, intended or not, must be counteracted (as it is a possibility), two main lines of attack were perpetrated above: first, that the passage in question, Romans 6, in fact presented no grounds for the conclusion once the original verbiage was considered; second, that the subjection of the assertion to a classic argumentum ad absurdum disqualifies it from consideration upon grounds of irrationality and rank heresy (polyandry, adultery, homosexuality, corporately composite humans, and the like being manifestly not Biblical). In either case, whether Lusk’s argument is toothless or (by implication) heretical, the conclusion is clear: this objection to baptism’s role as a symbol is without merit.

1 Corinthians 12 Response:

The fourth of Lusk’s bullet points contends thus: “In 1 Cor. 12:13, Paul says, ‘By one Spirit we were all baptized into one body,’ namely, the body of Christ. But once again the rite itself fails to picture incorporation into Christ’s body. Indeed, it is hard to imagine how any ritual could picture such incorporation.” This assertion, besides implying a fundamental error regarding the nature of the body Paul here speaks of in 1 Corinthians 12, ignores that, once the distinction between spiritual and physical baptism is understood and accounted for, once the basis of the church’s unity is clarified, the suitability of physical baptism as a means of initiation into the institution of the church becomes obvious. Physical baptism is an exceptionally suitable symbol for entry into the visible church, and spiritual baptism is the means, at least in part, by which entry into the invisible church is accomplished (though clarity must be maintained: spiritual and physical baptism are not temporally or causally united; of the two, spiritual baptism alone has innate efficacy, with the representative efficacy of an instance of physical baptism deriving entirely from its correspondence with a (separately applied in means, origin, and space-time) spiritual baptism).

Now, examine Lusk’s error regarding the term ‘body’: he implies (in using ‘Christ’s body’ rather than ‘the body of Christ’ or ‘the body of the church’ or some similar term) that he believes this to be incorporation into the actual body of Christ, a position consistent with the works of some others of his theological camp. It is not a position consistent with orthodoxy, however. To say that in baptism the believer is incorporated into the actual body of Christ fails both textually and in its varied implications. To substantiate the first charge, the entire chapter of 1 Corinthians 12, both before and after verse 13, speaks of the church. Nowhere in it is the body identified as the actual body which is Christ’s, except, possibly, in verse 27, where Paul writes, “The body of Christ,” in a context which any clear-minded interpreter will realize indicates that this is the body spoken of throughout the chapter. Two problems arise with interpreting this as necessarily identifying the ‘body’ with Christ’s literal body: first, that the construction “of Christ”, while capable of being a possessive genitive, could equally be a descriptive genitive (note: the author of this paper here uses Latin terms due to personal familiarity, but the concept exists in Greek and English both); second, that verse 28 implies an equation between “the body of Christ” in verse 27 and “the church” in itself. To explain, the equation between the church and the ‘body of Christ’ would require, if by ‘body of Christ’ Christ’s literal body were meant, that at the marriage feast of the lamb, Christ weds Himself, albeit both He and Himself would have several billion souls (the same souls). As marriage is the welding of two into one (Mark 10:8), and this bond would be the welding of one into one, the possibility that the church and Christ’s body are literally the same must be discarded. The suggestion that Christ’s body (but not His soul and spirit) is the church denies orthodox Christian doctrine on the hypostatic union to a blatantly heretical extent. If Christ is to wed the church, and the church is His literal body, His body is already one with Him (definitionally so) and therefore the same problem observed above arises from a different quarter, albeit in this case Christ weds not Himself but a part of Himself which He presumably simultaneously possesses, as pure spirit cannot wed pure body (the spirit-body divide being seen in the fact that the dead cannot marry the living). This distinction splits Christ into body- the church, which is thereby incapable of being counted as spirit, being body- and the divine spirit- as the body is apparently the church and therefore inherently creature, not divine, particularly pre-marriage. Under this paradigm, the entirety of the divinity of Christ must be in His spirit, violating orthodox understanding of the hypostatic union). To address the second charge, the reader is invited to re-read the previous few sentences for a primer, though further issues would doubtless appear given time.

Spiritual baptism forms an indubitably fitting method of incorporation into the body of the invisible church. Spiritual baptism is, after all, a passage (1 Peter 3) through death (Romans 6) and burial (Colossians 2) which unites us to Christ (Romans 6) and His resurrection (Romans 6) in new life (Romans 6), thereby dedicating that new life to God (Galatians 3) (apologies for the frequency of ‘Romans 6’; it is remarkably relevant). That all the elect will, by definition of the elect being predestined to justification, undergo this process is self-evident; that the invisible church, the body of the elect which is the Bride of Christ, which the visible church attempts to correspond to, is formed of the elect is, again, definitionally evident (1 Corinthians 12:13, after all, quite clearly identifies the members of the church as those who have received the Holy Spirit, which, as per John 14:26 and similar verses, is a description only of the elect, those eternally justified by God, while 1 Corinthians 1:2 narrows down the “church of God that is in Corinth” by specifically delineating “to those sanctified in Christ Jesus” as its audience.). Spiritual baptism, as will be elucidated below, is the process by which one of the elect is rendered from a man of the flesh, of the world, into a man of God (both qualitatively and possessively); this spiritual baptism is what physical baptism (as shown earlier in this work) represents and symbolizes with remarkable clarity. Because spiritual baptism is the process by which a man is actually saved (justified and adopted, though the seeds of sanctification are laid as well, the three being inextricably connected but not equivalent), and because the invisible church is a body composed of the entirety of those whom Christ redeemed, spiritual baptism is, as 1 Corinthians 12:13 states, the means by which all true Christians, the elect, are incorporated into a single body.

What would be expected of a process which incorporates a person into a definitional, spiritual body? Such a process would have to be a passage-through which fundamentally alters the person, which both separates him from the old and unites him to the new. Spiritual baptism fulfils this requirement. Spiritual baptism (once again, this is the spiritual reality not linked to the physical ritual either temporally or causally; both can exist independently of each other, though the physical achieves fullness only by correspondence to the spiritual) is a passage through: according to 1 Peter 2:18-22, baptism corresponds to the flood in Noah’s day, wherein God brought His people (the person being baptized, here) through the flood (water, a symbol of death, being death itself in spiritual baptism) to new life (the life of the believer). Spiritual baptism fundamentally alters the person: in the process of being washed of sin via death, the person’s heart is changed, being freed from the sin of Adam, and in the resurrection which logically follows from this death (Romans 6:4,7-8), Christ grants a new conscience, a new heart (1 Peter 3:21; Colossians 2:12; Romans 6:10-14; Ezekiel 36:26). Spiritual baptism separates the man from his old estate: the man receives, in his uniting to Christ’s death, the wages of his sin (Romans 6:5,23), that is, death, decisively and totally altering him from his former state (Colossians 2:11; Ezekiel 36:25-26) (which, being prior to spiritual baptism, was a state of not-being-in-the-church (1 Corinthians 12:13; Ezekiel 44:7)). Spiritual baptism unites man to the new: the ending of the unity of the believer with Christ’s death is the resurrection of the believer with and by his Savior (Romans 6:5-11; 1 Peter 3:21; Colossians 2:12), which resurrection is a resurrection into a re-created state (Ezekiel 36:25-26; John 3:1-14). Furthermore, this new life which spiritual baptism accomplishes is a state synonymous with being part of the body of the church: because the church is made up of the sum of all those truly saved, to be truly saved is to be a part of the church. In all its parts, spiritual baptism is a superlative, integral, and necessitous means of entry into the body of the church, of incorporation.

The manner in which baptism acts as a fitting initiation into the body of the visible church, besides being (despite its position in this sentence, the following quality is the most important part of baptism’s role as an initiation) a by-product of its role as a symbol of the spiritual baptism which initiates the believer into the invisible church, is a product of its symbolism of death and passage, its nature as a public, shared ritual, and its inherent statement of participation in the reality it reflects, though the physical element of baptism lacks any inherent spiritual efficacy, that trait being confined to spiritual baptism. The first mentioned path is simple and intuitive: because spiritual baptism accomplishes an essential part of the incorporation of a man into the body of the invisible church, physical baptism, by symbolizing this spiritual reality, accomplishes incorporation, less perfect but still real, into the physical reflection and imitation of the invisible church, the institutional, visible church. Having discussed the nature of spiritual baptism as a passage in relation to 1 Peter 3:18-22 above, let it suffice to say that baptism, a symbol of passage (as will be readily understood from above), forms therefore a yet more fitting symbol for passage from without the church to within it.

The second may seem somewhat out of left field but actually echoes an essential component of an uncounted number of initiations: sacrifice. Three examples of such initiations will suffice. The pagan Polynesian practice of burying a family member alive below one pillar of the house says, ‘I consider this house worth dying for’. The chivalric knight, in holding vigil through the night, declares a sacrifice, that his life, like that night, is dedicated to his new duties. Aaron was marked by God through Moses with the death-blood of the ram of ordination in Leviticus 8 to show to him and to the congregation of Israel the totality of his sacrifice, that even his life was forfeit should he stray from his duties, as is shown in Nadab and Abihu in Leviticus 10, that he had laid down his life for this duty, whether that life were to be spent in duty or destroyed in judgement. In a manner similar to all these but wholly superior, baptism, by symbolizing the death of the person baptized, says in actions louder than words, ‘I have given my life to join this institution; having died in entering the body, will I not also live according to its right precepts? Surely this is a covenant of blood to me, from which I will not stray’ (Romans 6:7-8; Exodus 4:24-26). That this declaration may be a lie none should deny, whether it is a lie of ignorance or intent, but this is the declaration made by every man, woman, and child who is baptized, save that for the child it is a promise by the parents of the child’s rearing, that having died into the church he will also live within it. This declaration is incomplete, of course; its fullness rises only when the fullness of spiritual baptism, with all its implications, is added to the equation, when this declaration says, ‘I, having died with Christ and risen both by and with Him, have entered through that death into the true church, of which this institution is a carnal simulacrum, imperfect but beauteous, and having thus died and risen, I am pledged to my Savior with hands that no longer love sin’ (Romans 6:7-8).

The third manner in which physical baptism provides a fitting means of entry into the visible church is in its nature as a shared, public ritual. The operation of the two components of this, ‘shared’ and ‘public’, may be easily understood by analogy to other ceremonies. A coronation, first, is a public ritual in which, by declaring all his commitment to his nation and by receiving from his nation their commitments, a king is rendered out of a man. All men see his commitment, and therefore it is valid. A king crowned in a secret room where none can see is only a king in potential, crowned in anticipation of his full coronation in public light; a king who is crowned in secret but never in public is not a king but a coup. Aragorn was not king until he was crowned, however much the crown was his by right, and the four rulers of Narnia were heirs, not kings and queens, before they defeated the witch, before their ascension and coronation in Cair Paravel. On the other end of the ‘dignity’ spectrum, hazing is a (chaotic) ritual by which a variety of groups- military men, college boys, etc.- unite. In this ritual, essentially, every person undergoes what his fellows have undergone, and they all know it. They, without so many words, declare to each other that they possess a common commitment and experience which binds them to the institution or grouping they have entered into. These two elements both being present, the ritual of baptism incorporates into the visible body of the church by declaring to all members of the church both a recognized and accepted commitment, one with mutual duties, and by undergoing what every member of the church has previously undergone in a public manner. Furthermore, in fulfilment of the first and fourth path, it not only states, ‘I underwent this ritual which you too underwent’ but ‘I have undergone the fundamental change which the true body of this church also underwent, have undergone the spiritual baptism which I hereby (in this physical baptism) symbolize’ (Romans 6:7-8).

Besides implying a grave error in regards to the ‘body of Christ’, Lusk contends that baptism does not picture incorporation into the body. To an extent he is right (baptism does not directly picture the incorporation); to the extent that he is right, the argument is a red herring. A symbol does not need to be comprehensive; if baptism failed to picture every part of the spiritual reality it symbolized, the wise man will say simply that the physical cannot fully comprehend or reflect the much greater spiritual reality. That is normal in symbols; no symbol can contain all the information and characteristics of what it symbolizes (if it did, it would be what it symbolized, rather than symbolizing it). What baptism does reflect, however, is the spiritual reality which actually accomplishes the incorporation. Furthermore, in reflecting that reality, baptism exhibits several qualities common in initiation rituals: a commitment extending to death, a passage from one state to another, a meta characteristic of being a shared, public ritual, and an oath, implicit and explicit, of loyalty to the central figure and binding force of the institution, Christ. Physical baptism, in actuality, is a ceremony well suited to symbolize the entrance of the believer into new life within the church, a symbol which accomplishes entrance into the visible church by mirroring a presumed and stated entrance into the invisible church which provides the pretext for the existence and composition of the visible church.

1 Peter 3 Response

Lusk’s fifth and final bullet point makes this assertion: “In 1 Peter 3, Peter declares that God saves us through baptism. Baptism is ‘not the removal of the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience towards God.’ In other words baptism is precisely not what it looks like! It may look like the outward washing of the body, but Peter says in reality, it is the washing of the conscience before God (cf. Acts 2:38, 22:16). In fact, if God intended baptism to simply picture this cleansing of conscience, it seems drinking water, rather than having it poured on the body, might have been a better choice of rites, since it is internal cleansing that is effected.” In this statement Lusk ignores the nature of symbols as more-than-just-the-physical, states that physical and not spiritual baptism is responsible for regeneration in a manner contradicted by the text (particularly when taken in context), and demonstrates his lack of understanding in regards to symbolism by proposing a symbol so badly calculated to accomplish its proposed end as to be comical.

What is a symbol? At its core, a symbol is something, physical or behavioral, which by its partial correspondence or parallelism (assigned or inherent) to another thing is invested with meaning not contained within its physical form. These words, for instance, are symbols invested by convention with a correspondence with sounds, with sounds similarly invested with meanings. At their basest level, these words are ink on a page or electric signals on a screen or light in the air; to interpret them thus, however, would be post-modern foolishness. These words are not mere physical shapes; they are symbols signifying real meaning. Physical baptism is, ultimately, a symbol. It is a symbol which gains its meaning from the correspondence to spiritual baptism inherent within its ceremony, from the meaning assigned to it by God and brought out by Scripture. It is not a mere removal of filth; it is the appeal (ESV) of a good conscience towards God. Lusk implies, by the placement of his statement, that physical baptism being more than the sum of its parts is proof positive it is not a symbol; in reality, which Lusk occasionally appears to depart from, being more than the sum of its physical parts is an inherent part of being a symbol. While an argument (fallacious and futile) could be made that this passage refers to the inherent spiritual efficacy of spiritual baptism (as will be addressed later), the characteristic of extending beyond the physical is inherent to both symbols and spiritually efficacious physical existences (which the author would hesitate to affirm the existence of). Lusk at best proves that baptism could be something besides symbolism, though this would be generous, as no part of his argument in this instance manages to rule out or contradict the hypothesis that physical baptism is symbolic.

That this passage speaks of baptism as symbolic becomes obvious with the elimination of inherent or necessary efficacy in physical baptism, as can be accomplished by considering the possible agents involved in physical baptism, the content of the verse, and the parallel drawn between baptism and Noah’s story. The first problem runs thus: in the proposed spiritually efficacious physical baptism, the actors are three, being the baptizer, the baptized, and God. Now an ‘appeal to God for a good conscience’ (the rendering of the ESV and NAS, both more reliable translations than the KJV) is manifestly a good deed, something arising from righteousness and not sin. The doctrine of total depravity, of course, rules out the person being baptized, unless it is posited that at the point of baptism salvation has already been accomplished; the question of whether it could be the work of Christ in the person runs across the difficulty that faith, not baptism, is what God is said to inspire in man for his salvation (Romans 4). The impossibility of separation from Christ (Romans 8:38-39) eliminates the person baptizing, as he who unites can also disunite (Matthew 19:1-9), meaning no third person can be integral to the process of salvation (meaning, indeed, that God alone may be integral, a discussion which involves matters not directly relevant to the focus of this paper). This process of elimination leaves only God Himself, but to say that God appeals to Himself for a good conscience would obviously be mangling the meaning. ‘Appeal’ obviously refers to an appeal made by a human being to God. Regardless of this all, however, and even if God were emplaced as appealing to Himself for a good conscience, the fact remains that assigning baptism an integral part of salvation (which is a requisite of this path) would either render Christ’s words to the thief lies (Luke 23:43) or would imply multiple paths of salvation, some of which would lay outside the church (outside the Bride of Christ) entirely (1 Corinthians 12:13; Revelations 19:7-10), while those that lay within the church would be saved by a physical ritual accomplished, at least in part, by their own works, as Biblically defined (1 Peter 3:21). The second problem with Lusk’s interpretation will require less time: the operative power identified in the verse is God, not man, and is identified as lying outside of baptism, not within it. Baptism is, after all, an appeal to God, to God and not anybody else; an appeal, being a prayer or a request, is not actually capable of effecting change in itself. The change must come from the person to whom the appeal is addressed. Furthermore, the effect is stated to come “through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 3:21), a clear statement of divine action, a clear refutation of human agency, which ends any possibility of human actions being integral (as they are to physical baptism). The third problem is that Noah was brought through the flood, not by it. In this comparison, it must be remembered, the water of baptism is analogized to the water of the worldwide flood. Baptism, therefore, cannot possess internal efficacy: to state it possesses internal efficacy would be to say by implication that Noah was preserved through the flood by the water, when the water was in fact the danger he was preserved from. All in all, the verse, insofar as it addresses physical baptism, supports a symbolic physical baptism both on its face and by process of elimination; even if the inspection were to bias itself in favor of internal efficacy as the default, the position Lusk seems to advocate, multiple considerations would outlaw that conclusion. Lusk’s pretension that this passage is in any way a refutation of a primarily symbolic physical baptism is just that, a pretension.

A moment must be taken to address the correct interpretation of this verse, to address potential complaints to the above, in advance of demonstrating the heretical implications inherent to Lusk’s proposed symbol. The baptism here is spiritual baptism; the appeal is (in a manner of speaking) death. Physical baptism is not the operative force here; while it is addressed, being the symbol of the spiritual reality, it does not save. If it could, that would be salvation via a man’s own works of righteousness (Titus 3:5). Any interpretation in which God is the one accomplishing the work of physical baptism (in order to make it no longer a work of man’s righteousness) not only ignores the mass of texts stating that faith and not works save but implies that any work can be a work of God and not man, simultaneously denying all agency-to-righteousness (and therefore all virtue) from man and allowing for a pseudo-Pelagian salvation in which works save but it’s OK because they’re works God does through you, a blatant violation of the intent of the entire Bible regarding works of the hand as contrasted to the truth of the heart. It would also render the entire works-faith distinction essentially meaningless. Furthermore, works would no longer be an outworking of faith; faith would, in fact, be essentially the same as works, having the same origin. Spiritual baptism must be the effectual happening, as only death can cleanse from sin; any pretension of physical baptism to that title is either a pretension and a denial of the efficacy of Christ’s death or a melding of spiritual baptism into its physical sign and seal. The second, should the reader fancy it, is untenable, since, as has been mentioned above, spiritual and physical baptism cannot be temporally and causally entangled: temporal linking would require the officiant of physical baptism to slaughter and resurrect Christ at every baptism, a repetition of one of the heresies of Rome, and causal linking would impose upon man the power of election, which power is God’s and God’s only (Romans 8:29-30). More could be said, but such is not the place of this paragraph, except to point out that, as seen above, God, not baptism, accomplishes salvation. The baptism at hand being established as spiritual, the question arises of what ‘appeal’ means. In this case, when baptism unites the believer to Christ in death (Romans 6:5), that uniting in death is an appeal to God for resurrection, for regeneration. In regeneration, as per the implications of John 3:6, a new conscience, a good conscience, one no longer radically depraved (in the words of the late R.C. Sproul), is granted; thus the appeal issued by uniting with Christ in His death is answered by the granting, through resurrection (Romans 6:4; 1 Peter 3:21), of a good conscience. It is an appeal, further, which is not ever answered in the negative, permitting the surety of Peter when he states that baptism (spiritual baptism, here, the washing of the conscience in death) saves, not because spiritual baptism itself is the agent and cause of salvation but because it is a part of the process by which God saves.

Lusk, unfortunately, has his own unique suggestion for a symbol of spiritual washing: drinking. Baptism, a physical washing, is obviously (obviously) not a good symbol for spiritual washing; they bear to each other no real resemblance (or so Lusk seems to imply. The problems with this suggestion are threefold (albeit the third is more comic than a fitting successor to the anathema highlighted by the first two): drinking is not a symbol of washing in Biblical terms (though it is a Biblical symbol), the symbolism involved would imply one of several different heretical possibilities in regards to justification, and attempting to symbolize washing of the spirit via drinking would logically require urinating, extreme sweating, or (induced) vomiting to be an integral part of the (usually public) ceremony. The fact that Lusk is not seriously proposing this ceremony should be remembered, but the fact that he proposes it as a credible option for a symbol of internal washing demonstrates, barring an egregious, perfidious, and dishonest refusal to use his intellect, his utter lack of understanding of symbolism as a concept, both Biblically and otherwise. If he possessed and applied a baseline understanding of Biblical symbolism, his suggestion would not be so faulty; it would not possess this catalogue of implications, grotesque and heretical by turns, all without any cogent Biblical justification.

Drinking is not a symbol of spiritual washing (washing, oddly enough, is a symbol for spiritual washing- the fact that one is physical and external, while the other is spiritual and all-encompassing, is, in fact, a ratification of the symbolic relationship between the first and the second- a truth which can be observed in Leviticus 14, when cleanness, a spiritual quality, is restored in the symbolic, physical washing of the person). This truth holds not only for the world’s usual conception- drinking symbolizes incorporation into oneself, the taking of some quality or idea into one’s own being and making it a part of oneself, e.g. good wishes during a toast- but for the usual Biblical symbolism. In the Bible, drinking is an act symbolic of taking some entity into the drinker or the drinker’s life, willingly or unwillingly, whether an experience or a quality, often of divine origin. This symbolism should be intuitive: in drinking, a person takes fluid into themselves and uses it, physically incorporating it into themselves. So a person who drinks symbolically takes what the water represents- a quality or an experience- and makes it a part of themselves, of theirs lives, in drinking. Numbers 5:16-28, wherein the priests says of the water, “May this water that brings the curse pass into your [the woman’s] bowels and make your womb swell and your thigh fall away,” provides an example. In this trial, the water of bitterness is drunk, passing into the woman and becoming a part of her; if the water finds sin, the curse turns upon her. If it does not find the sin it seeks, the water does nothing (though it must be clarified here that this isn’t magic- God is acting through symbols, not because of them, and the symbols are powerless apart from Him. Any other interpretation requires the attribution either of agency to water or to a man the ability to compel God). If this were a washing, the water in question should either take the sin with it upon leaving or, if the ceremony were modified to fit water’s new symbolic significance, the water should be inspected upon exit for signs of a particular taint which would symbolize the presence of adultery. A few other passages- Psalm 36:8, Psalm 116:13, and Psalm 16:5- could also be admitted into evidence as times when drinking symbolizes positive qualities or experiences being incorporated, but still further usages of drinking should draw the eye: the cup of wrath (or staggering) and the attribution to drinking of the sin of the nations. The first should be familiar to any New Testament scholar: Matthew 26:42, for a start, alludes with clarity to the cup of God’s wrath, the symbol of His judgement. Revelations 14:10, Psalm 11:6, Psalm 75:8, Isaiah 51:17, Jeremiah 25:15, Ezekiel 23:28-35, Habakkuk 2:16, Zechariah 12:2, and more refer to this cup, the drinking of which is the taking in of God’s wrath. Revelations 14:8 and Jeremiah 51:7 provide another set of examples: in these passages, the nations drink wine and go mad. In one, Babylon is the wine (Jeremiah 51:7); in the other, it is the passion of Babylon’s sexual immorality (Revelations 14:8). In neither case is ‘washing’ involved; the nations do not plunge themselves into the wine and pass through it to the other side. They drink the wine, and in drinking they incorporate it into themselves, becoming drunk and mad with vice. One commonality of all of these uses of ‘drinking’ as a metaphor or symbol is relevant here: they aren’t washing. Judgement may accomplish washing in one instance (Christ), but the judgement of the pagan nations is not a washing. Their judgement is annihilation, eternal death. Drinking is, instead, a symbol of entering into a new status or state, of taking it within oneself in a pervasive way. Communion, of all rituals, should remind the believer of this: in drinking the wine which symbolizes Christ’s blood, the believer takes in symbol the blood which has been given for him and makes it a part of himself, becomes kin to Christ (Romans 8:16,29) and symbolizes the life (for blood is a symbol of life) which was given him by Christ through His death and resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:21) (which should perhaps shed some light on the commandment given to Noah not to drink the blood of animals: they were not to take the blood of animals, their life, into themselves to be a part of themselves, particularly not the sacrifices (Genesis 9:4)). Lusk’s assertion that drinking would be a fitting symbol lacks any Biblical basis, a demonstration that he lacks a basic literacy in regards to at least two Biblical symbols, two symbols of great importance, considering the nature of Baptism as a sacrament and the use of the imagery of the cup in Matthew 26:42. In other words, Lusk demonstrates that he understands neither of the two sacraments.

What is washing? Washing is the removal of one undesired substance through temporary contact with another substance which detaches the undesired substance, takes it into itself, and is then removed from the object or person being washed. Therefore, if drinking is to be a symbol of baptism, it follows that not only must the water be drunk- to symbolically reach the sins- but the water must be expelled- to remove them from the person. As alluded to above, there are only three real ways to do this (assuming bleeding and similar destructive means are off the table): sweating (or saliva, theoretically, but they run into the same issue), vomiting, and urinating. This establishes the four stages (including one for the drinking itself) under inspection; a simple analysis of each will elucidate a series of theological problems. The first, the drinking, is perhaps the least objectionable. In the hypothetical use of drinking as a symbol for internal washing, the swallowing of the water and its passage to the stomach would symbolize the application of the washing substance to the spiritual body (on the inside) and the moving of the filth from the spirit to the washing substance. The filth being saliva, etc., a natural product of the human body, would actually be more symbolically appropriate than the external filth of physical washing, some might say, but the presence of sweat neatly dispels that frivolous argument. The other three stages are separate routes, branches on the road: sweat and saliva (slow excretion), vomiting, and urinating. The first has a simple problem: the filth removed by sweating, even if sweat itself is not counted as filth, is not the same filth as that which was symbolically washed away in the initial part of baptism. Additionally, depending on whether the participant waits for the water specifically drunk or just an equivalent amount, the baptism would take either several days or several hours (of hard labor or high heat). This all ignores the greatest problem of this and the other two: the fact that a person’s own bodily processes would be used in expelling the water would imply that a person accomplished the washing at least in part by their own might, essentially endorsing a form of semi-Pelagianism (not, in this case, Arminianism, as the part implied to be the person’s work is the later part, the removal of filth. The Arminian version would have the person drinking with their own ability- which could be ameliorated through external aid by the officiant; this symbol would imply Christ’s work to require man’s aid to finish, though not to begin, a much greater issue). Vomiting somewhat reduces this issue by limiting the use of the person’s bodily processes, but in order to be practical it would require emetics, both involving more works by the person and involving a worldly aid. This last part would symbolically imply God’s work to require the aid of an external entity in order to be accomplished. Some might say that this is all moot: the parson in charge of officiating a normal baptism is already involved. However, symbolically, this parson is representing God; for the person being baptized to aid is therefore a much different matter. Urinating, aside from being grotesque, does nothing to alleviate the issue of implying works-based righteousness. Furthermore, all three present a problem when the use of baptism as an entrance into the church is considered. Traditionally, when possible, baptism has been an affair public within the church. Sweating, however, would be exorbitantly long. Vomiting would be a very odd way to demonstrate (see above) new membership in the church. Urinating would be, besides its built-in wait time for the water to finish percolating through the human system, grotesque and violative of the basic principle of clothing provided in Genesis 3:20. Essentially, the process of drinking as a symbol for spiritual baptism would imply work’s righteousness, be impractical and grotesque, and, depending on how precisely it was ended, implicative of other heresy, even setting aside the oddity of a cleansing being applied only to the inside of a soul during judicial proceedings where God, who sees all, would thus by His omniscience render the soul effectively ‘all outside’, if ‘outside’ were thought to symbolically correspond to ‘what can be seen’, as seems likely. Once again, this is not significant as a rebuttal of Lusk’s actual position; this is significant as a demonstration of his lack of understanding of symbolism (or his utter lack of consideration for what he is saying).

Lusk’s interpretation of 1 Peter 3 utterly fails to disprove the symbolism of physical baptism for spiritual baptism in two ways: he ignores the nature of symbolism and he misrepresents the text (and its context, though mostly via ignoring the second) with the help of an imperfect translation, topping it all off by proposing a ludicrously bad symbol as a ‘this-is-what-it-would-be’. How so? First, he ignores the fact that symbolism is the use of one thing (usually physical) to signify another to which it bears an analogic resemblance in some (but not necessarily all) parts, and thus that symbolism is definitionally ‘more than it appears to be’, more than its purely physical parts. Second, he states the verse to be indicative of salvation by physical baptism, when a simple analysis of the text and context, as well as the substitution of ‘appeal’ for ‘answer’, as per the change from the KJV to the more reliable ESV or NAS, would show that spiritual baptism, not physical, is the operative force here, while physical baptism is necessarily lacking in inherent efficacy. Any other position on this passage, as demonstrated above, tumbles headlong into absurdity or (and) heresy. The finishing touch which he applies is a grotesquely unworkable suggestion of a symbol, on he states would be a better symbol for spiritual washing, better than actual physical washing: drinking. He ignores the fact that not only is this lacking in Biblical precedent as a symbol (in this situation- drinking has its own rich symbolic usage in the Bible, one which, unlike washing, is not suited for use in this context)- but that if the new symbol were to accurately represent a salvation, that salvation would be one partially accomplished through the works of the person saved, with other heresies in the offing. This says nothing of the more comically grotesque results of the substitution. In this jocular suggestion, Lusk displays either a lack of understanding of symbolism or a sinfully neglectful failure to use his understanding thereof when speaking upon matters near to anathema, being closely connected to the doctrine of justification through faith alone (Galatians 1:6-10). All in all, Lusk’s arguments here flop harder than three spread-eagle elephants falling into a pool after falling off the same trapeze.

Addenda Response

The final points Lusk makes in this section, directly below his bullet point list, boil down to this: baptism isn’t a symbol in any significant way (echoing his earlier statement that, “The outward rite simply does not picture what baptism is said to do”, and because of that, baptism must be viewed in light of the Word of God, in order to be rightly understood, as otherwise its incredibly obtuse nature would simply confuse others. A word of clarification and establishment must be had. All parts of Scripture are to be interpreted by each other. Matthew 24, for instance, must be interpreted in light of the prophet’s symbology in the Old Testament (or a whole host of heresies can result). That baptism requires an explanation is only to be expected, as understanding must proceed from a Biblically literate mind, not a mind ordered according to the vain philosophies of man. This established, a simple examination of Lusk’s position and that of this paper, in contrast to each other under the light of the above, will demonstrate how useless Lusk’s implication here is.

In Lusk’s position, the obtuseness of baptism means that the Word is required to understand it at all; indeed, without the Word, massive misunderstandings are likely to result, given the obfuscation inherent to the ritual. In this paper’s position, the clarity of baptism as a symbol is only fully understood when paired with the truth of the Word; without the Word, baptism is a sign of cleansing power, even, to some eyes, a sign of death and resurrection (the symbolism is here not so alien as to be unattainable by extra-Biblical methods), a sign which, when united to the Word, obtains new facets, dimensions, and depths which render it an unutterable beauty. Neither position contradicts the necessity of interpreting Scripture (and all it institutes) by Scripture; the second position merely acknowledges that a symbol given of God possesses the clarity He clearly granted it in His Word. That some symbols in Scripture are dark is readily apparent: to divine the reasoning for the directives regarding the bones of the Passover lambs would not be an easy task. It would be questionable, however, to argue that the preservation of the lamb’s bones at this time possessed an actual, positive efficacy on the basis of the symbol’s ineluctability. Another example should drive the point home. The altars set up by the eastern tribes in Joshua 22 was undoubtedly a symbol with no intended inherent efficacy of its own (22:22-29). Lusk’s implication in this statement- that a symbol must be clear, in a way independent of outside clarification, in order to be a symbol- is flatly contradicted by this passage, in which a symbol (22:22-29) is plainly mistaken for something which it is not, for an abomination (22:13-20), a mistake which does not render it inoperative or invalid as a symbol (tradition, presumably, being intended, in this situation, to supply the clarification the Bible provides baptism). Some symbols, however, are transparent, whether natively or in light of Scripture (baptism being both, though the first only to a very limited extent), as in the case of the washing via blood in the sacrificial system, which clearly indicated that life must be shed to atone for sin and that death is the wages thereof. In other words, while baptism is in part an inherent symbol, its fullness as a symbol is assigned to it by God in the Bible. Therefore, Lusk’s statements here is a rhetorical trick, possessing no real merit for his side of the equation, implying that the facts support him without actually showing that they do so (since they do not).

Additionally, in implying that his opponent does not believe Scripture necessary for an understanding of baptism, Lusk builds a strawman; such is not the actual position of any theologian of merit. Any student of Biblical symbolism would be able to articulate the necessity of the Bible to understanding Biblical symbolism and the necessity of the Bible to utilize that understanding (indeed, at this point, any unbiased logician would suffice). Lusk’s strawman serves only to provide him with a dummy to knock down in order to avoid facing the real critics of his position while pretending them already defeated.

Conclusion

What, then, is the import of the paper?

First, the symbolic efficacy (efficacy as a symbol) of physical baptism should be readily apparent. It reflects by analogy many different facets of baptism with remarkable accuracy. Further, it provides an excellent entry into the visible church, both by reflecting the entry into the invisible church and by checking off the integral parts of an initiating ceremony. Lusk’s assertion to the contrary have proven to a man irrelevant, fallacious, or implicative of heresy. If his words are accepted, the person doing so risks either himself or those who learn from him following the path to its conclusion, which is anathema and perdition. Do not less this danger pass unheeded.

Second, Lusk himself should not be regarded as a man of perspicacity, a worthy teacher. He is instead a dangerous fool, a man who thinks himself wise when he is in fact not. Lusk has demonstrated a lack of understanding of symbolism which calls into question his motives in addressing the topic, as, in the absence of an actual understanding of symbolism, the only available substitute is motivated reasoning. In other words, because Lusk doesn’t understand symbolism, he must slot in ‘it must work this way in order for me to be right’ (unconsciously, in charity to him) where ‘I understand this’ ought to go. He also appears unwilling to inspect the full cacophony his assertions can cause (at least in the more favorable construction which does not make him out to be a heretic of the highest order; if Lusk were thought to believe all the implications of what he asserts in his paper, Mormons would blush at his heresy), either unwilling or unable. The reader is invited to consider a different application of C.S. Lewis’s words on explanations for Christ, that He is the Son of God, a madman, or a liar. In Lusk’s case, he might be speaking the previously unseen truth (in contravention of the entirety of Christian orthodoxy, vis a vis the conflation of marriage and baptism), spouting madness (or idiocy, as this does not refer just to insanity but to stupidity), or lying through his teeth (with the subcategory of ‘neglectful disregard for the truth’, a crime bearing the same relation to lying as spraying bullets into a municipal park while blindfolded does to spree killing). He is not speaking the truth; the Bible precludes it. He must therefore be a madman (subcategory: idiot) or a liar (subcategory: unjustifiably reckless with the truth). This author prefers to consider Lusk to have failed to grasp the subject fully, at least in this instance but suspects the answer lies somewhere between the two parenthetical options. The reader is invited to come to his own conclusion, with much prayer. To let biases stand in the way of truth, however, would be to endanger the soul; even if the matter is set aside in the readers mind, even if he has accepted the truth of the Bible (portrayed above with, the author hopes, accuracy), to fail to consider the failings of Lusk would engender two dangers. The first danger is to Lusk himself. Should the negative verdict be rightfully his, his soul is in danger, being imperiled by false doctrine or by vice (most likely a combination, given the depravity of man). The second danger is to all Lusk teaches (which danger reverberates back towards Lusk). If he is accepted as a man worthy of teaching, a Nehemiah, when he is in fact a Judaizer or something slightly less deadly, his teaching would be empowered to lead many to destruction. The reader should consider the stakes, consider with the full weight of his judgement, purified by rational contemplation, unbiased counsel, and prayer to the Almighty; he should seek the truth above aught else, as a divine creation worthy of desire.

Context:

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All verses, unless stated otherwise, are taken from the ESV.

This website was used to provide information on the words of the original text.

The paper as a whole is a answer to a section of the article found here. My anti-virus dislikes this webpage, but it has yet to cause issues. If you are worried, I advise copy-and-paste to move the article into a Word document- it makes taking notes easier. The rest of the paper seems to be of similar quality to the section this paper examines, though I’ve not inspected it as closely.