Church Discipline and Restoration; 2 Cor 2:5-11

In 2 Cor 2:5-11 we witness a church that is first apathetic about exercising church discipline in a situation in which it was essential to do so. And, subsequently, overly reluctant and hesitant to exercise restoration and reconcilliation when it was essential to do so.

Someone had offended agains the church and against Paul. We don't know who they were or what the offence was. (From later in the letter we might infer that it was some kind of blatant sexual sin, hardly unknown in Corinth). Initially there was no sanction brought against the person until Paul wrote insisting on it.

The result was a divided church. A majority united in bringing a judgement and sanction that "discouraged", but a minority clearly felt, for whatever reason, that the man shouldn't be punished. The sanction probably meant exclusion from the main church gatherings.

It isn't explicit that the man subsequently repented, but it is strongly implied. The sanction clearly had the necessary effect. However, where the church was initially too slow to bring discipline now they are too slow to restore the man to fellowship. His continued removal is bringing him grief that is unnecessary and is in danger of permanenely damaging or destroying his faith (v7). The church needs to forgive and restore not only for his sake, but also for their own as the way things stood Satan had an opportunity to make hay by causing division in the church.

I take the following lessons from this passage:

1. While churches should be very cautious about exercising discipline against a member, to be too slow to do so is potentially very dangerous. Why were they too slow? We aren't told. Maybe it was because they knew it would cause a division between a majority and a minority. That would be a very understandable concern, but the lesson here is that it is worse to not bring discipline than it is to cause such a division. Maybe it was because some in the church didn't think that the church or its leaders have the right to bring discipline. That is, the minority didn't just support the man, they refused the whole notion of church discipline. If so they were badly mistaken
2. The sanction did not imply that the man was no longer loved (v8). This was applied to a dearly loved brother, for the effect of bringing repentance. It is possible for offence against a church to lead to unloving rather than loving discipline. Sanction should never be brought without tears and deep concern for the offender's welfare
3. As soon as it has done its job sanction should be replaced with forgiveness, restoration and comfort. Never let this be delayed. If it is, then the church is guilty of producing unnecessary grief, possibly damaging a person's faith, and allowing Satan to harm fellowship by creating division. Why might a church be slow to restore? Because of feeling hurt or betrayed? For fear that "they will do it all over again"? Or because the discipline was carried out in a heated rather than careful manner, accompanied by hardening of hearts and attitudes, that makes it difficult for those bringing the sanction to back down? We should note how Paul takes very great care to describe the situation accurately and coolly. He doesn't dismiss the offence and need for discipline, but neither does he exaggerate the situation because his feelings were hurt

Churches that are serious about Christ being honoured cannot simply dismiss behaviour that damages his honour. Churches that are serious about Christ's grace cannot fail to forgive and extend grace speedily to people who repent. 

When Love is Not Enough

I took the opportunity to listen in to some of the General Synod debate on the Anglican Communion Covenant on Friday (don't tune out non-Anglican friends, this affects you too).

I found the portion I heard heart-wrenching. I listened to three or four people passionately pleading for the communion to stay together. But when it boiled down to it, their argument simply amounted to "we do love each other, don't we?"

I don't doubt that (almost) all those there do, indeed, love each other at a personal level. But love without content is an absolutely unsustainable basis for a functioning partnership that achieves gospel ends together. There is no direct line that leads from love to strategy, from love to shared understanding of mission, from love to commonality on truth and doctrine. For sure love is crucial, the highest command of the Lord. But it is a mistake to think that just because we love someone that therefore it must necessarily be possible to work together. We are called to love our enemies too, but the Bible never expects us to have shared commitment to extending God's Kingdom with them.

Partnerships are based on other things. They can't happen without love, but love is not the thing that makes gospel partnership work. I like to think of it in three levels:

1. If we have the same core gospel commitments, the same convictions about primary matters such as the nature of God, the person and work of Christ, what he achieved on the cross, our commitment to the Bible, etc, then we are, at a very deep sense, united.

2. If we have the above and a shared sense of the particular specific mission that God has called each of us to, then we will want to express that partnership in common working wherever possible, in prayerful consideration of each other, and in making sure that our work is synergistic

3. If we have all of 1 and 2 and a common strategy, we need to ask whatever is stopping working so closely together that we do one work with one purpose. We are the closest of gospel partners

Three levels - unity (level 1), commonality (level 2), close partners (level 3). Based on shared convictions (level 1), shared convictions and mission (level 2) and shared convictions, mission and strategy (level 3).

(Note, under this scheme it is impossible to build level 2 without level 1, and impossible to build level 3 without levels 1 and 2. From the little I heard of Friday's debate it seemed that some folk wanted to appeal for a level 3 unity, appealing that everyone present was a partner, without defining either level 3 or, for that matter, levels 1 and 2 either. It just doesn't work. Partnership without firm foundations doesn't last.)

For those of us who aren't Anglicans or interested in the Anglican internal debate, it should be said that exactly the same thing is true in a local church and between churches. If you assume that people in your church will do good, long term mission together, without a common convictions and shared view on mission, I suspect you are wrong.

Similarly unless people have those common convictions there is no way to tell with whom you can and can't do mission. As an example, a friend of mine recently said to me "I have lots of catholic friends, they love the Lord and they want to see people won for Jesus." Wonderful," I said. "So we can formally work with their church on a mission, then?" she asked. Of course the answer is, "no way" but she found it very hard to see why not. I asked her:

• if someone becomes a Christian, do you want them to go to a church where they are taught that you don't only pray to one God through Jesus Christ, but also to a host of mediating saints and to Jesus' mother?
• do you want them to be taught that the Pope is the only authorised interpreter of the Bible?
• do you want them to be taught that salvation is dependent, in a very meaningful sense, on attending mass (where an old covenant priest sacrifices Jesus again for you every week) and confession?
• do you want them to believe that God's grace is a reward for their work?

And a host of other differences, all of which are on extremely primary matters of truth. "But they are my friends," she concluded, a little unhappily. I have catholic friends too and I feel the weight of my argument. Sooner or later we have to say, to our own distress and theirs, "we can do x and y together, but we can't do z together because we don't believe the same things and we think each other are wrong."

The appeal to love alone is also an appeal to never draw any such boundaries. It is unworkably fuzzy and appeals deeply to a postmodern generation that dislikes the idea that there are some areas in which being correct or incorrect really, really matter. And that some people will be right and others wrong. Just as in Parliament it is an offense to call someone a liar, it often seems among Christians tht the most offensive thing you can say is "we think you are wrong about that." Somehow that seems to challenge friendship. It shouldn't. Friends ought to be able to say that and remain friends