Magic and Mediators

Getting to What is Real

This week’s post is an essay from theologian

Anna Anderson

. Whatever your denomination or theological heritage, Presbyterian or otherwise, Anna challenges us to put no human mediator between the Good Shepherd and his sheep.

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I recently discovered that I am “out of accord with historic Presbyterianism on Church Office.” I am still shocked, not that someone called me “out of accord,” but rather that I worshipped for ten years as if I was “in accord.” Even though I took a course in seminary on the Westminster Confession of Faith (WCF), studied the Westminster Assembly in my second semester of church history, and certainly spent many weeks studying the doctrine of the church, I never knew that in classical Presbyterian ecclesiology, ordination advances you to a “holy” state and comes with “keys.”

Still occasionally interested in our former denomination, I was watching portions of the Presbyterian Church in America’s (PCA) General Assembly (GA) — more specifically the debate of Overture 12 which would have limited the distribution of the Lord’s Supper to officers of the church (elders, ruling elders, and deacons). The PCA’s constitution, Book of Church Order (BCO), already restricts who may “administer” the Lord’s Supper to the office of teaching elder (TE), yet is vague on who may “distribute” them to the people once the TE has “administered” them. “Administer” refers at the very least to reading or quoting Scripture identifying the elements with Christ’s body and blood, typically taken from an account of the Last Supper in the Gospels or from 1 Corinthians 11. As the GA discussion was taking place, I began to understand that the reason many were coming to the microphone to speak against the overture was, not because they thought that the laity should be able to carry the plates of bread and trays of juice to pews, but because the word “officers” was not limiting enough.  Many of those speaking against the amendment wanted the distribution limited not just to officers, but to elders.

As I listened to the men who came to the microphone, there were two moments in particular that left me wide-eyed and speechless. At minute mark 1:51:45, a man stood up and said,

I’m a young man and therefore at times given to flippancy and when I was a young lonely intern not too long ago, the mentor in my life, my pastor, told me, ‘Holy men handle holy things . . .We are men set apart by God, handling holy things.’

In his speech, he repeated “holy men handle holy things” five times within four minutes and offered as proof the “entire book of Leviticus,” and this verse in particular, “Among those who are near me I will be sanctified” (Lev 10:3). He also warned the assembly of the weight of their decision using the examples of Nadab and Abihu offering strange fire to the Lord. I asked myself, “How does this man see himself?” And then next, “How would he see me?” In the same breath as declaring himself and inanimate elements “holy,” he was distancing himself from God’s people made “holy” at the cost of Christ’s body and blood signified in those elements. Will telling this man “you are a holy man handling holy things” encourage or discourage his “flippancy”?

The next speech (1:57.40) left an even greater impact on me. It took some time to understand why the man who rose was speaking against the overture, but it soon became clear that he wanted to limit the distribution of the bread and wine to the elders alone. He cited Westminster Confession of Faith 30.2 as his reason. His argument was based on what he called “the theology of the keys of the kingdom.” “Officers” was too broad a term for him. He did not want deacons, whose work is “sympathy and service,” to blur the “good and beautiful distinction” between those who have authority (elders like himself) and those who do not (deacons).

Other men came to the microphone to talk about the “keys.” Up until that point, I had never understood that the historic Presbyterian doctrine of the church had kingdom keys. I wrote several months ago on Luther and Calvin’s understanding of the keys in regard to the preaching of the Word on the Lord’s Day, but I did not see yet that those keys are thought to be able to shut out those whom they deem impenitent. They believe that the keys of the kingdom are given to those who bear the external mark of ordination, and the external mark is the visible expression of the internal, invisible mark of ordination by Christ. Stated simply, they believe that the authority that Christ gives them extends all the way up to the throne room of God. Here it is in the words of the Westminster divines: 

To these officers the keys of the kingdom of heaven are committed; by virtue whereof, they have power, respectively, to retain, and remit sins; to shut that kingdom against the impenitent, both by the Word, and censures; and to open it unto penitent sinners, by the ministry of the Gospel; and by absolution from censures, as occasion shall require. (WCF 30.2)

The context of the Assembly bears comment. The Westminster Assembly was convened by Parliament during Cromwell’s government in Interregnum England.¹ Perhaps the question that had plagued the church from the time of Constantine concerning the competing powers of church and state was being answered by the assembly in 30.2. The civil government may claim power over the church, but the “special office” has power over the souls of the individuals who form that government. May I suggest that this “doctrine of the keys” may poison with pride the souls of those who bear the “external mark”? In a denomination within a tradition that has never developed a doctrine of man that aligns with the Great Commandment, to love our neighbor as ourselves, it also may destroy the faith of the sheep (John 10:10). The Reformed tradition has never reformed its anthropology. They have never faced, much less stared down, institutional prejudices present from the outset. Yes, I speak of Calvin and Knox’s overt disparagement of women, an inclination celebrated today by many bearing the “external mark” in the PCA.²

Returning to the “doctrine of keys,” the ordained deduce their authority from Matthew 16:16-19 in the context of Peter’s confession of Christ as the Messiah.  Historically, Rome came to understand the keys as indicating an authority conferred by apostolic succession and centered in the office of the bishop of Rome. As I understand it, the Reformers rejected the Pope’s keys and yet established for themselves an equal authority, not rooted in concrete apostolic succession but in an abstract precedent which they find in Matthew 16 and 18. To be clear, the keys are still to be found, just in different pockets. Honestly, I am not sure what to make of Christ’s words to Peter, but the first chapter of WCF would be my starting point before coming to hasty conclusions — the “general rule of the Word” is that unclear things can be deduced by “good and necessary consequence” from clearer parts of the Scripture. What could be more explicit than God’s power and love in Christ who shepherds me from wilderness to Sabbath rest by the power of his Spirit? What could be more evident than the fact that no power in heaven or on earth can separate me from that love? I would bring as proof not only the book of Leviticus, but its fulfillment in Hebrews. What strange fire would incite someone to want or to claim such power over the eternal destiny of his neighbor?

As I understand it now, according to historic Presbyterianism, some allege (1) not only that the word of the “lawfully-ordained” minister in the pulpit on Sunday becomes the veritable Word of God through the “real presence of Christ” in their preaching, (2) not only in the spiritual presence of Christ in “holy things” when administered by “holy men,” (3) but that their own disposition and decisions as “holy men” indicate Christ’s relationship toward someone as either accepted or rejected. The doctrine of the keys was explained to me like this: 

By virtue of Christ’s mediatorial kingship, and by His Spirit speaking in the Scriptures, those who hold the special office are appointed by Christ to exercise a declarative and ministerial authority on his behalf.  The visible mark of ordination is an expression of the invisible mark of ordination by Christ. Even if a man were a scoundrel he cannot overturn the nature of ministerial authority and the legitimacy of ordination, especially given the admixture of the elect and the reprobate in the church in this age.

Evidently Christ does not rule me directly, but appoints a special office of little “m” mediators with the authority of little “k” kings to open or shut big “H” Heaven. Come on, do we really believe this? Mind you, they give the “external mark” of ordination to the like-minded. You cannot “see” the authority they claim  to lock someone outside the kingdom, to separate him from Christ, to damn him to eternal torment with the Devil and his demons. Yes, they do admit “counsels can err,” and yet I wonder who would be “holy” enough in their eyes to make that call? For example, could a young housewife in Arkansas placed under discipline because of the cold-heartedness of her session determine that “counsels erred”? If not, can we picture her trying to carry this? What extraordinary faith would be required of her to overcome the clamor of those who would shut her out? And yet God’s Spirit can and will give faith to his own. He gave it to the woman caught in sin and to the man born blind (John 8-9). His authority scatters our accusers and directs us in our desperation to himself — one who heals us, who loves us, who gave himself for us, who will never leave nor forsake us.

As I now understand it, to become a “holy man handling holy things” like the Word, sacrament, and censure, you must be ordained in the PCA. In order to be ordained into the PCA, you must go through a rigorous period of training and mentorship, likely have 120 credit hours of seminary education in an institution where like-minded men teach. After your education, you must pass tests on doctrine and be “examined” by a presbytery. You must subscribe to the Westminster Standards, vowing to “sincerely receive and adopt” the Westminster Confession of Faith and the Larger and Shorter Catechisms as containing the system of doctrine taught in Scripture. Although you may “take exception” on minor points of doctrine or practice, any exceptions will come under close scrutiny. The required conformity in “faith and practice” is astounding. An elder must subscribe not only to the 33 chapters of the Confession, the 107 answers of the Shorter Catechism, and the 196 answers of the Larger Catechism, but to the Book of Church Order’s structure of church government and rules for church discipline. To be more specific, the 2022 edition of that document had a little over 400 pages. The people who come through the ministerial process in historic Presbyterianism conform to a degree that I have found in no other segment of the church. They agree not only with the doctrine of the Standards, including their own authority in receiving the “visible mark,” but also with other complex, ever-expanding sections of the Book of Church Order. And they will call their people to conform to those same doctrines and practices.  

But what happens if I cannot conform? What if I cannot believe, for example, that those who bear the “external mark” of Presbyterian ordination bear the internal mark of Christ’s priestly and kingly authority? What if I do not believe in the keys? What if I do not believe in the “real presence” of Christ in their preaching? What if I believe that what they believe about themselves is not what the Word tells me about the mystical presence of Christ mediated through His Spirit in the church?  

Unfortunately, I did not have to wait long for my “what ifs” to be answered.  I was told that what I needed was to be “turned over” to “good men” under whose discipline I could be brought “into accord with historic Presbyterianism on Church office.” How can a church such as this reform? I fear it can only go deeper into discussions of things like “Who is holy enough to handle holy things?”, all the while thinking itself to be the last bastion of orthodoxy. The system is intrinsically rigged not only against internal reform but also against kingdom expansion (Matt 28:19-20). Guardians of gates and holders of keys are usually not found far from their own city’s familiar walls. 

Lastly, I wanted to say something about how historic Presbyterianism views the keys as given to the “office” rather than the officer. This means that if a scoundrel is ordained into that authoritative office, he is a recipient of the spiritual benefits, privileges, and responsibilities of that office regardless of his character. Though he can be deposed after a process, he is believed to hold the keys while he holds the office. Thus Calvin says against the Donatists, even if a “duly-appointed” devil baptizes you, it is still effective. Calvin writes,

We hold the ordinance of God to be too sacred to depend for its efficacy on man. Even if it were then to be that Judas or any other epicurean contemner of everything sacred is the administrator — the spiritual nourishment of the body and blood of Christ [in the Sacrament] are conferred through his hand just as if he were an angel come down from heaven.³

With such a view, the people of God who fall prey to an unworthy man are to believe that, while in office, he holds the keys to their eternal destiny. What is the effect of this on the people of God? Can we stop for a moment and imagine what we are asking the sheep to believe about their good Shepherd, Christ? We are asking them to believe that “by virtue of his mediatorial kingship” Christ gave authority to the one who harmed them, that Christ gave the keys to the one who shut them out, that Christ was truly present in the word spoken against them to destroy them. 

“Holy men handling holy things” betrays a pride that will cripple a man and hinder his fruitfulness among God’s people. His “holiness” will work against meek and lowly service in imitation of his Lord. I would go so far as to say it is antithetical to the example of his Overshepherd, who made himself of no reputation and took upon himself the form of a slave, who shepherded his people by love and guarded them from those who would bind them to hollow and deceptive philosophy, based on human tradition rather than on Christ (Col 2:8).

In closing, I offer my own experience. Three years ago our church extended a call to a new pastor. Six weeks after he arrived, I offered brief, respectful feedback to him on a sermon. The three previous pastors had appreciated my input, glad to find that I was tracking with them, listening closely, learning, and able to add some insight. I experienced quite the opposite from the new pastor. Not only was he defensive, writing that his preaching was not deficient, but he was offended. I felt an unexplainable anxiety, almost fear, in his presence. After four months, I could no longer attend this Presbyterian church because of how I had been taught by Presbyterians to view Sunday worship. They taught me that it was above all a heavenly ascent to the realm of Sabbath rest where, in the Spirit, I joined the angelic throng and “saints made perfect” before the throne of Christ. Seeing someone “at the top,” who showed open antipathy toward me, made focusing on Christ, who shows open love for me, nearly impossible. As I look back and contemplate that time, I see now what was hard to explain then. The anxiety I felt was attached not only to how the pastor viewed me but to how the pastor viewed himself. This self-perception worked against the love he was called to have for me.

I could never believe that the things bound by the “special office” on earth were bound in heaven. If I did, I would live in a fear that the Lord who loves me forbids. I am to fear no man (Psalm 27:1; 118:6; Prov 29:25; Is 51:7, 12; Heb 13:6, etc). These are things “known by other places that speak more clearly.” There are no earthly mediators of my belonging to Christ. There are no magic keys. As I understand the Spirit speaking through the Scriptures, the undershepherd is called to the self-denying love of Christ — to lay aside pride, earthly privilege, and status, and to take upon himself the yoke of our meek and lowly Shepherd. To accept the magical mediation of the Word and sacrament by those holding a priestly and kingly office with keys would take my eyes off Christ. There is no room for human mediators to negotiate my relationship to Christ (1 Tim 2:5). On his breast I lean as I come up from the wilderness, even as I reach for him on cleft mountains, and desire that same confidence for my neighbor (Song of Songs 8:5, 14).

In closing, please hear what I am not saying. I am not saying that God has not ordained order in the local church. I am not saying that elders and deacons do not have a good and distinguishable work of leading and serving set apart for them in caring for God’s people. I indeed come each week to Sunday worship expecting that God will meet me, not only through what is preached, but through every interaction that I have with my brothers and sisters. I also am not denying the necessity of discipline for egregious sin and for those who deny and distort the gospel.

 And yet I strongly disagree with a magical view of ordination. 

I deny that there is an office which holds keys that can shut God’s people out from his glorious presence.

 The apostle appears to have his own catechism, and he asks and answers this question in Romans 8:

Q. “Who can separate us from the love of Christ?”

1. “For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:28-29).

For my brothers and sisters in Christ who have found yourself confounded by the doctrines of man in the Presbyterian system, hear truly from the first chapter of the Confession where true authority lies:

“The authority of the holy scripture, for which it ought to be believed and obeyed, dependeth not upon the testimony of any man or church, but wholly upon God, (who is truth itself,)  . . . (and) assurance of the infallible truth, and divine authority thereof, is from the inward work of the Holy Spirit, bearing witness by and with the word in our hearts” (WCF 1.4, 5). 

The same confession that gives kingdom keys to the “special office” also acknowledges our freedom to disregard the existence of those keys by the inward work of the Holy Spirit convincing us otherwise from Scripture. We are free, and no one can take away that freedom. Christ, who gave his life for us, goes forward with us, promising to illuminate our path home by his irrevocable, indwelling Spirit. 

Quote from John Webster

“The gospel can never condense into order; order, office are witnesses, indicators of the reality of the gospel and the presence and activity of the risen Jesus. What keeps the church in being isn’t the indicators but that which they indicate: Jesus Christ himself, the Lord of the church, in whose hands alone lie its past, its present, and its future.”⁴

Question

If you are part of or come from a different Protestant tradition (Baptist, Anglican, Lutheran, Methodist, etc.), have you seen similar “doctrines of man” in the way leaders view themselves? Where else do you see this dangerous elevation of one class of God’s children over other sons and daughters of God?

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Thanks again to Anna for her encouraging and challenging words. I highly recommend you subscribe and check out her work on theological anthropology at

Anna's Substack: Heaven and Earth

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1. John H. Leith, Assembly at Westminster: Reformed Theology in the Making (1973).

2. See Zachary Garris, Honor Thy Fathers (2024).

3. Ronald S. Wallace, Calvin's Doctrine of the Word and Sacrament (1982), 174.

4. John Webster, Christ Our Salvation: Expositions & Proclamations, edited by Daniel Bush (Bellingham: Lexham Press, 2020), 167.