The gospel is good news. The message determines the medium. There is a clear logic to Paul’s argument in Romans 10, where he contrasts “the righteousness that is by works” and “the righteousness that is through faith.” We were redeemed by Christ’s actions, not ours; the Spirit applies this redemption to us here and now so that we are justified through faith apart from works; even this faith is given to us through the proclamation of Christ. Since this gospel is a report to be believed rather than a task for us to fulfill, it needs heralds, ambassadors, and witnesses. The method of delivery is suited to its content. If the central message of Christianity were how to have your best life now or how to become a better you, then we wouldn’t need heralds, but life coaches, spiritual directors, and motivational speakers. Good advice requires a man with a plan; good news requires a man with a message. This is not to say that we do not also need good advice or plans, but that the source of the church’s existence and mission in this world is the announcement of God’s victory in Jesus Christ.

Coaches can send themselves with their own suggestions, but an ambassador has to be sent with an authorized announcement. If the goal is to get people to go and find Christ, then the methods will be whatever we find pragmatically successful; if the goal is to let Christ find sinners, then the methods are already determined. Simply quoting verses 13-15 of Romans 10 reveals the logical chain of Paul’s argument: “‘For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’ But how are they to call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent?” The evangel defines evangelism; the content determines the methods of delivery; the marks of the church define its mission.

Transforming God’s Work into Our Work
Across the spectrum, from fundamentalist to liberal, Reformed to Roman Catholic, there seems to be a prevailing assumption that the gospel is something to do rather than something to believe. Conservatives like Rick Warren give us the same “Deeds, Not Creeds” speech that we have often heard from Protestant liberals. The call to “live the gospel,” “do the gospel,” and even “be the gospel” is heard with increasing frequency not only in Arminian evangelicalism but even in ostensibly Reformed and Presbyterian churches.

It is not the call to obedience that is wrong here, but the deadly confusion of the law and the gospel. When obedience becomes the answer to the question, “What would Jesus do?”, rather than “What has Jesus done?” the gospel is, as Rome calls it, “a new law.” It may be delivered in the “hellfire and brimstone” fashion of older revivalism or as helpful advice for self-improvement, but in either case “deeds, not creeds” means law, not gospel. We need both law and gospel, but they do different things. God’s law defines true righteousness, both exposing our unrighteousness so that we will flee to Christ and directing our grateful obedience as justified and renewed people. But where the law reveals the righteousness of God, the gospel reveals the gift of righteousness from God. Not only when we first come to faith, but in every moment of the Christian life, we must be law-directed but gospel-driven.

What does all of this have to do with the relationship between the marks and mission of the church? Everything! The marks of the true church are the proper preaching of the Word, administration of the sacraments, and discipline. The mission of the church is simply to execute these tasks faithfully. Throughout the Book of Acts, the growth of the church is attributed to the proclamation of the gospel: “The word of God spread.” Waking the dead, this gospel proclamation is not only the content but also the method. Those who believed were baptized along with their whole household. They were not simply added to the conversion statistics, but to the church—the visible church. Furthermore, the apostles and elders—and, by Acts 6, the deacons—served the church as officers representing Christ’s threefold office of Prophet, King, and Priest.

We find no dichotomy between the official ministry of the church as a historical institution and the Spirit-filled mission of reaching the lost. The mission expanded the church; it did not subvert it. Through this ministry, “The Lord added to the church daily those who were being saved” (Acts 2:47). So when evangelists today qualify their invitation to receive Christ by saying, “I’m not talking about joining a church,” they are stepping outside of the mission established by Jesus Christ and evidenced in the remarkable spread of the gospel under the ministry of the apostles.

Christ has not only appointed the message, but the methods and, as we have seen, there is an inseparable connection between them. All around us we see evidence that churches may affirm the gospel of salvation by grace alone, in Christ alone, through faith alone, but then they adopt a methodology that suggests otherwise. Christ has appointed preaching, because “faith comes by hearing the word of Christ” (Rom 10:17); baptism, because it is the sign and seal of inclusion in Christ; the Supper, because through it we receive Christ and all of his benefits. In other words, these methods are appointed precisely because they are means of grace rather than means of works; means of God’s descent to us rather than means of our ascent to God.

In this way, Christ makes himself not only the gift, but the giver; not only the object of faith, but the active agent, together with the Spirit, in giving us faith. And he not only gives us this faith in the beginning, but deepens, matures and increases our faith throughout our lives. The gospel is not something that we needed to “get saved” so that we can move on to something else; it is “the power of God unto salvation” throughout our pilgrimage. So we need this gospel to be delivered to us regularly, both for our justification and our sanctification.
We also need the law to guide our faith and practice. Christ not only saves, he also rules. In fact, he rules in order to save. His sovereignty liberates us from oppression. Submitting ourselves not only to the faith-creating gospel but to the faith-guiding commands of Scripture, we recognize our need for the spiritual oversight of our pastors and elders and the service of deacons. Like any family, the church needs proper discipline and order so that our personal and corporate life together will truly, but imperfectly, reflect the fact that the church is an embassy of Christ and the age to come even in this present evil age. The individualistic emphasis of evangelicalism stands in sharp contrast to the covenantal paradigm that we find in Scripture.

To repeat, these marks of the church focus on what God does for us rather than on what we do for God. God was not just the Savior once upon a time, but here and now, as he delivers Christ and all of his benefits to us week after week. The mission of the church is to bear those marks. This orientation not only challenges the tendency of evangelicalism to possess zeal without knowledge, but the temptation of confessional churches toward confidence in knowledge without zeal. In his Pentecost sermon, Peter announced, “The promise is for you and for your children and for all who are far off, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself” (Acts 2:39). Neglecting a covenantal ecclesiology, evangelicalism exhibits a zeal for mission unhinged from the marks of the church. After all, if the gospel is about our experience and activity in personal and social transformation, rather than about how we can be regular recipients of God’s gifts, the means of grace are beside the point. In the process, as recent studies reveal, a growing number of young people raised in evangelical churches abandon their faith by their sophomore year in college. The promise may be “for all who are far off,” but evidently not “for you and your children.”