Puritan Reformed Conference: Ever since I clicked on that squirrely Joe’s Reformed Coffee ad, I’ve been getting all sorts of similar advertisements. The latest was for a Protestant wristwatch. Ironically, after I clicked on that, I was shown a Catholic version with a picture of Mary on the dial. Now my feed seems to be filled with books… countless books. The last thing I need is more books. Theology has already ruined my life well enough. I don’t need another shelf full reminding me that there is always one more author to read, one more system to master, and one more debate to settle.
Now, that’s probably a little exaggerated. I still love books, and I still enjoy reading them. The Lord has used many faithful writers over the years to make me think more carefully. But somewhere along the way I also realized that there’s a difference between learning more theology and simply being directed back to Christ. The latest advertisement that keeps appearing is for the Puritan Reformed Conference here in Grand Rapids. It looks like G3 Ministries is involved, though I honestly don’t know much about them and haven’t taken the time to look into their ministry. I was more interested in the conference itself, so I did read its stated purpose: “to cultivate a Christian worldview that is biblical, doctrinal, experiential, and practical.” I don’t think anyone would object to that. Those are good things for all of us to pursue: a better understanding of the Scriptures and a life shaped by them. Honestly, it sounded interesting.
A couple of years ago I probably wouldn’t have said that. These days, though, I find myself a little more curious. Right now, working full-time simply doesn’t leave much room for things like this. My days are already pretty full. Between work, family, and the hours I spend writing, conferences simply aren’t a realistic part of my life right now. But if the Lord grants me a few more years and I finally get to retire, I wouldn’t mind attending a conference or two simply to listen and learn.
So I clicked on it. Then I saw the registration fee. Nearly $200. First off, I’m a cheapskate. That’s a ton of money. I just sat there looking at the screen thinking, “Is this really what it costs to attend one of these things?” Before I go any further, I want to be careful not to be misunderstood. This isn’t intended as a criticism of the men themselves. My interest lies elsewhere. It’s the larger pattern that caught my attention, not the individuals. After all, for many years I would probably have been sitting right there with everyone else. I eagerly collected books, searched out old writers, and hoped the next volume would answer the questions I still had. I still love theology.
As I sat there looking at that registration page, I realized it wasn’t really the dollar amount that caught my attention. It was what it represented. Somewhere along the way, this has all become so normal that many of us no longer stop to ask whether it reflects the simplicity we find in the New Testament. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not raising these questions because I think conferences are inherently wrong or because every registration fee is automatically unjustified. There are real expenses involved, and I understand that. My concern lies somewhere else. It’s simply this: Have we become so familiar with our religious culture that we’ve stopped noticing how different it may be from the ordinary life of the New Testament church?
When I read the New Testament, I don’t find believers traveling across the country to hear the latest well-known speaker. I find local assemblies gathering around the ordinary preaching of the Word. I find shepherds caring for the people God had entrusted to them. The emphasis seems to rest less on seeking out the next well-known teacher and more on faithfully hearing Christ through the Scriptures. Perhaps that’s why I found myself thinking about it long after I closed the webpage. Conference seasons. Publishing houses. Promotional videos. T-shirts. Book tables. Featured speakers. An endless stream of advertisements. None of those things are necessarily wrong by themselves. But when this becomes the world we inhabit as believers, it’s easy to forget that it wasn’t always so – and to assume it must simply be the New Testament pattern.
When viewed as a whole, I can’t help but wonder whether we’ve gradually become accustomed to a religious culture that would have seemed very foreign to the apostles. Maybe I’m wrong. It’s certainly possible. But I don’t think the question is unreasonable. If our greatest desire is to see Christ set forth, then surely it’s healthy to ask from time to time whether everything we’ve built is actually helping us do that – or whether some of it has simply become the air we’ve learned to breathe without ever stopping to notice it.
That, in turn, led me to another question. At what point did we become convinced that the Christian life is advanced primarily by attending another conference, buying another set of books, or hearing another respected teacher? Sometimes I wonder if we’ve unintentionally created the impression that serious Christianity requires constant access to the next event, the next ministry, the next podcast, the next publishing house, or the next theological voice. And if that’s true, I can’t help asking whether we’ve mistaken our religious culture for the ordinary pattern of the Christian life.
I had almost decided to leave it there. But since I recognized only one of the speakers, I found myself reading the brief biographies that accompanied their names. As I mention this, let me be clear that this isn’t a criticism of these men personally. It was simply hard not to notice a pattern. Biography after biography highlighted academic degrees, seminaries, professorships, books, and ministry accomplishments.
I realize these credentials represent years of hard work, discipline, and sacrifice. They didn’t appear overnight, and I don’t want to diminish that in the least. There is something genuinely admirable about men who devote themselves to the careful study of the Scriptures, and the Lord has often been pleased to use their labors for the good of His people. Yet after reading several of those introductions, one simple question kept running through my mind:
Why does everybody have to be so smart?
The question isn’t really about intelligence. It’s about expectation. Every one of the nine featured speakers holds a Ph.D. One taught at Yale. Another is a former scientist. Several are professors, and one has written or co-authored more than 120 books. I found myself wondering what an ordinary believer is supposed to think after reading all of that. Have we unintentionally created the impression that extraordinary credentials are the ordinary path to becoming a trusted teacher of the Scriptures?
Perhaps I noticed it because I’ve lived a very ordinary life. I left school at fifteen, went to work, raised a family, and spent decades earning a living. There was never time – or money – for higher education. But that describes countless Christians. Most believers learn the Scriptures in the middle of ordinary life – before work, after work, late at night, while raising children, paying bills, caring for family, and faithfully following Christ one day at a time. I doubt anyone will ever invite me to speak at a conference, and that’s just fine. Monday morning I’ll get up before daylight, read my Bible, head off to work, and continue learning Christ. Somehow, I suspect that’s a story shared by far more believers than the biographies on that conference webpage. Maybe that ordinary path has never been second-class at all. MPJ