Many political commentators and observers have often commented on what they call American exceptionalism. This is not political exhortation at all—I simply want to use this as a potent illustration. I am aware that we are a presbytery that crosses national borders here—we have churches and men assembled here from Poland, and Russia, and Canada, and Japan, and Tasmania, and Texas.
My point is to highlight a principle that the Lord Jesus taught us—the first will be last, and the last first. The humble will lead, and the proud are sent empty away. Humble yourself under the mighty hand of God, and He will lift you up. The current chatter about American exceptionalism gives us a solemn object lesson in this regard.
There was a time, in the founding era, when an observation about this exceptionalism would have been true. It is not true any longer, because we have grown wealthy, and sleek, with our eyes fat like grease, and we have forgotten our God. Like Jeshurun, we have waxed fat and kicked. We have gone the way of all flesh.
But when this nation was first being established, under the blessing of God, the founders knew that they were just like other men, that this nation was going to be subject to all the temptations of men, that we had to guard ourselves and walk carefully. We knew that we were not exceptional—and that was exceptional.
The apostle John tells us that the glory of young men is their strength. Old men have their wisdom, but young men want a mountain to climb, or an army to conquer. They want to put their glory to the test. The same kind of thing is true of churches, movements, denominations, or currents within the church. When something is new or young, there is an overwhelming temptation to think that it is something different in kind. But a young man and an old man are not different in kind. Young men can be wise and prudent, or not. Old men can be wise and prudent, or not.
When God works in the broader Church, and raises up a movement, or school of thought, or a new monastery, the easiest thing in the world to do is confound the strength that youth always has with the wisdom that youth might or might not have. True reformation in the Church will not be accomplished if our attitude is the same as a young man stuck in traffic behind some geezer driving slowly.
The CREC is a young church. That youth brings with it some natural strengths, and the flesh wants to contrast our natural strengths with other churches’ natural weakness. But we ought not to be thinking about nature here at all. We should want to cultivate our graces. And if we are thinking of graces, we will not compare our graces with the graces of others. What do we have that we did not receive as a gift? And if as a gift, then why do we boast as though it were not a gift?
The central grace in this situation is the realization that we are just men, that many others have had the same kind of opportunities that we have, and have foolishly thrown them all away. The central grace is the realization that we are nothing special. That is special. We are just like the others, which means that we are not . . . because we are. And as soon as we realize that we are not, and take special note of it, we have stumbled and fallen. If you humble yourself, God lifts you up. If you lift yourself up, God smacks you down.
As a young and growing denomination, as a vibrant movement for renewal within the Reformed world, we have to realize that we’re no great shakes. And if we do recognize this, if we accept it, if we pattern our behavior accordingly . . . now that’s exceptional.