Note: The fourth portion of the paper on baptismal symbolism. The full version is here at the end of the month. 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) (Full Version)

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.

The full version is published here.

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.