The Consensus That Kills

Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing” (Jn. 15:5).

Real spiritual life and growth cannot be had apart from devotion to Christ and His Word.

Now I might be way off here, but that verse doesn’t sound anything like, “Just join the denomination of your choice and everything will be fine.” What Jesus seems to be saying is that real spiritual life and growth cannot be had apart from devotion to Him and His Word. Which is less complicated than I'm making it sound. “Remaining” in Him has always been predicated on honest, humble submission to His teaching, flowing from love: “Now remain in My love. If you keep My commands, you will remain in My love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in His love” (Jn. 15:10). This is the goal and He is the standard—the Author and Perfecter of the faith (Col. 1:28; Eph. 4:13; Heb. 12:2). Our goal isn’t to hit man-made benchmarks or chase denominational fads—it’s maturity in Him. If I wish to grow, it will only be in fellowship with Him, and only to the extent I submit myself to His Word (Jn. 17:17).

When we move away from this standard, it's often subtle and deceptive—we're offered counterfeits with His Name and likeness attached, but clinging to such is fatal. There are no benign, safe alternatives to His means of growth and security because there is no alternative to Himself. This is true not only for individual growth, but for local churches as well.

When Barnabas arrived at the newly planted church in Antioch, he saw their faith, “he was glad and encouraged them all to remain true to the Lord with all their hearts” (Acts 11:23). If, at any point in time, one decides to move the goalpost, it won't be a harmless change, but an active hindrance to the growth and stability of a local church. Human inventions, alternatives, and projects heralded as “keys to growth” are nothing more than restraints disguised as silver-bullet solutions.

There are no harmless alternatives here. Substitute Jesus’ plan with a human invention, and you’ve swapped the cure for poison.

One subtle shift in the standard comes when local churches to decide to hitch themselves together under a single oversight and, invariably, having no respect for the scriptural organization of the church, abandon Jesus’ other teachings they deem unsuitable. It didn't take long for this to happen. In the NT, each local congregation was led by its own elders (Acts 14:23; Ti. 1:5; 1 Pet. 5:2). But by the 2nd–3rd centuries, churches began huddling together under regional “bishops.” This shift in oversight (from local elders → regional bishops → pope) was justified as a safeguard for unity and doctrine. But in reality, it moved the standard away from Christ’s Word and into the hands of men. Once that was in place, it wasn’t long before councils, creeds, and papal decrees dictated faith and practice. The new standard became, “What does Rome say?” not “What does Scripture say?”—the very thing Paul warned about (2 Cor. 10:12; Col. 2:8). In abandoning His Word as the measure, they become the measure, and so carry on comparing themselves with themselves and commending their progress by the new standard. The monumental efforts and time spent in attaining to this new standard are all “in the Name of Jesus,” of course (2 Cor. 11:4). In reality countless hours and dollars are burned chasing the denominational high score.

That sad trend continues to this day—unite local churches together under one banner, one board, pick and choose which of Jesus’ commands are “outdated,” and then grade yourself by the consensus. Luther wanted to reform abuses in Catholicism, but his name became the new banner. Hundreds of Lutheran synods later, the Bible is still measured by “Luther’s position” instead of the other way around. There are no harmless alternatives here. Substitute Jesus’ plan with a human invention, and you’ve swapped the cure for poison (however trendy that poison may be).

How could this happen? “See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception, according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world, rather than according to Christ” (Col. 2:8). That’s the how and why of denominationalism in a single verse. Such philosophies, traditions, or creeds are often written down for posterity. But even if there’s not a hard copy somewhere, it can still be (and is) enforced through custom (e.g. “Baptist usage”—how Baptists historically justified certain practices without appealing directly to a written creed). Whatever form it takes, however it supplants the will of Christ—it’s still trading His teaching for the consensus of men. It doesn’t matter if you get wrong directions from Google Maps or the guy at the gas station—wrong is wrong, and you still wind up lost.

To make matters worse, once we build an immovable hedge around our consensus or “the majority opinion of the churches of Christ,” our zeal will never run deeper than “the way we’ve always done things.” Shaky ground for conviction. It’s like taping a picture of food to your refrigerator door and then wondering why you’re still starving. Even if the “consensus” or “majority opinion” happens to overlap with some biblical teaching, my loyalty is still one giant step removed from where it should be—the Word of Christ.

Our prideful, glory-hog tendencies do not die easily or quickly.

This is no different in principle than a bunch of Corinthians swatting each other over who baptized them—“I’m of Paul, I’m of Cephas, I’m of Christ…” (1 Cor. 1:12). Yes, Paul and Peter taught the same things as Jesus (1 Cor. 14:37), but that’s beside the point! The point is, “Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?” (1 Cor. 1:13). Their ultimate loyalty was far removed from where it should have been—in Christ Jesus, so even if doctrinally sound (they weren't), their hearts were filled with pride in their association with certain men. What’s scarier still, neither Paul nor Peter ever intended to start their own factions in Corinth! Take the warning to heart. Our prideful, glory-hog tendencies do not die easily or quickly. Some of the more self-aware fathers of denominations knew this: “In the first place, I ask that men make no reference to my name; let them call themselves Christians, not Lutherans. What is Luther? After all, the teaching is not mine” (Martin Luther, LW 45:70-71). I’m not picking on Luther, if anything I’m picking on his followers. A stream never rises above its fountain.

Within a century, Lutheranism had splintered into dozens of synods and state churches, drifting into the same formalism Luther resisted. The “fountain” was Luther’s protest, not Christ’s pattern, so the stream could never rise above his teaching or movement. And it wasn’t just Luther. The same pattern showed up in the “Restoration plea.”

Campbell, Stone, and others called for Christians to throw off creeds and go back to the Bible only. Yet within decades, “our plea” ironically became a new unwritten creed. The divisions over missionary societies and instrumental music in the 1800s proved that even a “back to the Bible” slogan, if elevated above Christ, becomes a sect. When the fountain is a man (even a zealous reformer), the stream leads to death.

Reformers break away from some decayed institution, fired up with zeal. Their passion sets a bar for doctrine and practice—for a time. But it never lasts. Why? Because no generation of converts will rise higher than the founder of the party. “A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a slave above his master” (Matt. 10:24). So if Luther or Campbell or Wesley or Paul or Peter has your ultimate loyalty, you will find it waning and, in the end, leading to your destruction: “I laid a foundation as a wise builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should build with care. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 1:10-11).

How many have been duped into following a zealous man, all the while thinking they followed Christ? Once a man becomes the fountain, the flow is doomed to stagnation, but if the source is Christ, then a man has every reason to “press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Phil 3:14). The ideal is unattainable in this life, so we press forward, ever striving for the ideal—“excel still more” (1 Thess. 4:10), and Christ gives us the only One capable of inspiring such devotion and the only One worthy of it. The question isn’t whether you follow a zealous man who points to Christ, but whether your loyalty is swallowed up in Christ. Every man-made stream runs dry. Only the living water flows forever: “whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst” (Jn. 4:14).

That’s where the New Testament leaves us—not with creeds, not with consensus, not with institutions—but with Christ. The Vine, the Cornerstone, the Author and Perfecter. Whoever remains in Him bears much fruit.

The only solution is to return and start over at the source: the Word of Christ.

Every “reformation” that tries to “revive” the spirit of Christ inside its institutions is like a cut flower in a vase. At first it looks fresh, even beautiful. But no matter how often you change the water or trim the stem, the flower is cut off from its source. It must wither and die. "Every plant that My heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots" (Matt. 15:13). Luther’s protest, Wesley’s methods, and Campbell’s society may look lively at the start, but they're destined for death because they were severed from Christ long before. That’s the tragic destiny of every man-made institution that tries to bottle the Spirit of Christ inside unscriptural structures. When you make a mistake early in a multi-step equation, every calculation that follows just compounds the error. You can shout, argue, or keep working the formula a thousand different ways, but you’ll never arrive at the right answer unless you go back and find your initial error—"you have left your first love" (Rev. 2:4). The only solution is to return and start over at the source: the Word of Christ.

Remember Jeroboam in 1 Kings 12? He set up golden calves in Bethel and Dan, and every king after him in Israel “walked in the sins of Jeroboam” (2 Kgs. 13:11; 2 Kgs. 17:21–23). On the surface, it was framed as a practical solution — “convenient” worship under a new oversight system. In reality, it was a total departure from God’s organization because Jeroboam feared losing his people. Every king followed. Some made minor reforms, cut out some corruption here and there, but none of them ever went back to the original departure point. None tore down the calves. So the error compounded until the entire kingdom collapsed into Assyrian captivity. They couldn’t move forward in truth until they went back and corrected the root mistake. As long as the calves stood, Israel was doomed. As long as the creeds stand, so are we.

That’s exactly what happens in denominational reformations. They protest abuses, tweak practices, form new movements, but they never trace the error back to its source—departing from Christ’s pattern.

In the New Testament, Christians and churches weren’t graded on a denominational curve—they were measured by the Word of Christ Himself. So the charge is clear: tear down the substitutes, drop the banners, abandon the names, and remain in Him. Anything less than or other than this is poison and idolatry. Only Jesus gives life, and only Jesus is Lord.