When Darius forbade prayer to anyone but himself for 30 days, Daniel had three options that weren’t openly idolatrous:
- Stop praying for a month.
- Pray in private.
- Continue to pray with his window open, publicly defying and dishonoring the king.
If he had consulted other Hebrews in exile, they would probably have given him advice something like this:
It isn’t essential to pray every day, least of all with your window open—but it is essential to honor the king. And you won’t be able to pray at all if you’re dead. We need to be very conscious of the damage that your reflex to resist could do to our witness. Don’t bring shame and disrepute on your fellow exiles by publicly dishonoring the king for something that God never commanded us to do.
We are guessing, of course, based on the advice we hear today from our most wisdomous leaders. Nearly all the pastors in the Western world have been told by their governments to stop publicly worshiping God—and judging from their responses, they do not see Daniel’s actions as virtuous, let alone valorous. Indeed, the few pastors who have defied the king’s edict have been excoriated as villains by their brothers, rather than celebrated as heroes. Many Christians have been eager to declare their allegiance to Caesar, and their willingness to turn in anyone engaged in such misplaced heroics (cf. John 19:15; Acts 17:5–7).
You may think there is no true analogy between Daniel’s situation and ours. We are still free to pray or worship as individuals; Daniel was not. We are not being specifically targeted or persecuted by lockdown laws; Daniel was. Our worship is being curtailed due to a real emergency; Daniel’s was not. But although there are differences in application between our situations, the deeper principle is identical:
Darius was putting himself in the place of God by deciding whether and how worship should happen. The modern state is putting itself in the place of God by deciding whether and how worship should happen. It is the duty of God’s people to correct this by resisting.
Daniel’s response is therefore of the utmost relevance to us. It is truly instructive to compare how he dealt with the state playing God, and how we are dealing with it.
Resistance to tyranny is obedience to God
The issue here is tyranny—the unjust use of state power. The state playing God. It is not persecution, where the state targets Christians specifically. Persecution is certainly a form of tyranny, and it has been happening under lockdown in certain locales—but it is not what we’re discussing here.
Our concern is simply the state arrogating to itself the right to tell churches that they may not worship in the normal way. The proper biblical response to this is, “Haha nope.”
It’s not even just, “Nope,” which is what Daniel could have said by resisting in private.
It’s, “Haha nope”—as in, we’re not changing a damned thing just because you said so, and it’s actually important that you know that, because you’re supposed to be ordering the world as God commanded, and he didn’t command it to be ordered that way.
This isn’t to say that churches should avoid any changes. We might very well heed the state’s recommendations in a crisis like a pandemic. We might well agree that the best way to balance our competing obligations of preserving life (the sixth commandment) and worshiping God (the fourth) is by suspending services for a time.
But we will absolutely not stop worshiping as usual just because the state presumed to decide whether and how worship should happen.
The reason is straightforward: God decides the law. The state enforces it. The reverse is idolatry and heresy.
So don’t get the wrong idea about what we’re criticizing. The issue we’re dealing with here is simple: it is with the state assuming the role of God, rather than the role of his minister…and churches not responding with, “Haha nope.”
John Knox, like Daniel, understood that “resistance to tyranny is obedience to God.” Why did he put tyranny and obedience that way around? Why not rather, obedience to God means resisting tyranny?
Presumably because he knew that the converse of his statement is also true: obeying tyranny must entail resisting God—whereas resisting God does not necessarily entail obeying tyranny. We can resist God in many other ways too!
The principle behind Knox’s point is that who we really believe is on the throne is revealed by who we obey. Talk is cheap—to know what a man believes, look not at what he says, but what he does. A tree is known by its fruit. We really believe we’re living in someone’s kingdom—but whose kingdom that is can really only be known by whose laws and character our actions conform to.
Is Christ really Lord—even Lord of the state?
In Ephesians, Paul prays for something that it is worth reading slowly and dwelling upon:
…that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you a spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him; having the eyes of your heart enlightened, that ye may know what is the hope of his calling, what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints, and what the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe, according to that working of the strength of his might which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and made him to sit at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule, and authority, and power, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come: and he put all things in subjection under his feet, and gave him to be head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all … God, being rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace have ye been saved), and raised us up with him, and made us to sit with him in the heavenly places, in Christ Jesus… For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God afore prepared that we should walk in them. (Ephesians 1:17–23; 2:4–5, 10)
We believe that we are seated above all rule and authority in Christ. We believe that the church is his body, and thus the instrument by which he puts all things into subjection under his feet. We believe that for freedom he has set us free. We believe we should stand firm, therefore, and not submit again to a yoke of slavery. We believe we should not fear those who can destroy the body, but he who can destroy both body and soul in hell. And we believe that if God is for us, who can be against us? He is the one who justifies.
But when we then abandon our freedom for fear of punishment by submitting to tyranny, and when we will not take God’s side for fear of others judging us for being “rebellious,” we show that we believe these things with a dead faith. By our deeds we testify to whose authority and verdict we truly fear and venerate. We testify to whose rule we truly believe in and yield to. We testify whose laws truly sway and constrain us. We testify what we really believe our place, and God’s place, to be.
Put another way, who we obey reveals who we are truly putting our faith in. “You believe that God is one? Even the demons believe! But are you willing to recognize, you empty fellow, that faith without works is useless?”
Who is in charge? Who is our government?
This is why civil disobedience matters. It is impossible to believe that the Lord Jesus is in charge, that the government is upon his shoulders, that every other government is his subsidiary, that worshiping him is essential to the right order of the world, and that we have his authority to say so on his behalf—and then simultaneously to agree to silently cease worship of him because our government does not believe doing so is essential. To show obedience to the earthly government on this point is to openly flout and resist the heavenly government. When we choose who to serve, we make a silent claim about who is in charge.
Are we citizens of the heavenly kingdom, constrained by the freedom of the law of Christ? Or are we subjects of the state, constrained by the tyranny of the ruler of this world?
Our actions reveal it. More: they reveal what we believe about worship itself.
Worship is participation in the heavenly court
And what shall I more say? for the time will fail me if I tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah; of David and Samuel and the prophets: who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, from weakness were made strong… Therefore let us also, seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising shame, and hath sat down at the right hand of the throne of God… For ye are not come unto a mount that might be touched, and that burned with fire… but ye are come unto mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable hosts of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant… Wherefore, receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us have grace, whereby we may offer worship well-pleasing to God with reverence and awe: for our God is a consuming fire. (Hebrews 11:32–34; 12:1–2; 18, 22–25, 28–29)
Notice what both Ephesians and Hebrews take for granted about gathering in worship: that it is coming before the very throne of God in heaven. We are seated in the heavenly places if we are in Christ, and when we gather, we gather in the heavenly places.
It is true that all of life is worship. But that does not make gathering as God’s assembly less important; it makes it more so. The local assembly is the capstone of worship because it is how we come together as the one body of the Lord Jesus to praise and testify before the throne to his saving rule. If we won’t do that because another throne decreed it non-essential, who are we really worshiping the rest of the time? Who are we kidding?
But, but, let every person be subject to the governing authorities!
Now, the screeching has already begun about Romans 13, so let’s talk about that. Don’t hear what we’re not saying.
Is the government authorized to do hard things? Yes it is. But Romans 13, in combination with the general principles behind the Mosaic Law, establishes the limits of what it may do. Romans 13 is not a blank check; it is a tight constraint:
For rulers are not a terror to the good work, but to the evil…for he is a minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is a minister of God, an avenger for wrath to him that doeth evil. Wherefore ye must needs be in subjection. (Romans 13:3–5)
Why needs we be in subjection? Because the magistrate is a minister of God to punish evil and praise good (cf. 1 Peter 2:14). Wherefore means “as a result of which.” So what should we conclude about our subjection to a magistrate that rather punishes good and praises evil? Remember, we are not talking about an edict that simply enforces God’s law poorly or inexactly. We are talking about the state abrogating God’s law; forbidding the worship given into the church’s charge by God; putting itself in the place not only of the church, but of God himself. We are talking about the state playing God.
Should that still result in our obedience? Is such a government still acting as God’s minister?
To ask the question is to answer it. Again, God decides the law. His ministers merely enforce it. The reverse is idolatry and heresy.
What is striking is how obvious we think this is when it comes to the other spheres of authority that God ordained. No Christian in his right mind would assume that because Hebrews 13:17 instructs us to obey our pastors and submit to them as keepers of our souls, that the power of the church is therefore absolute, or that resisting ecclesiastical tyranny is rebellion against God. Indeed, we are quick to identify such tyranny as cultic. Yet the link between God’s authority and the church is surely more clear in our minds than between God’s authority and the state.
Similarly in the sphere of the family. Wives are to submit to their husbands as to the Lord—the link between the lordship of Christ and the authority of the husband is explicit. Yet we are, if anything, eager to defy the slightest domestic heavy-handedness as abuse.
We intuitively know to resist tyranny in the other spheres of authority, and have trained ourselves to do so with remarkable vigor. But because we need something to trust in for ordering our world, our defiance in one area has to balance out somewhere else. And the fact that we are incapable of reading Romans 13 the same way we read Hebrews 13 or 1 Corinthians 11 reveals where that equilibrium has settled. That we cannot see the obvious with respect to resisting state tyranny demonstrates the remarkable degree to which the state has already replaced God in our lives.
Is the government authorized to quarantine the sick? Yes. But is it authorized to quarantine the healthy? No.
Similarly, are these lockdowns effective at destroying the virus? That is very much in question. But have they always been highly effective at destroying the livelihoods that all men are charged with maintaining (1 Timothy 5:8)? That is not in question at all.
And is the government authorized to treat worship and supplication of the true Government as non-essential? Is it authorized to instruct us to place our trust in the state’s management of the crisis, rather than in the management of the Lord Jesus? Is it the job of the state to disciple the people of God?
Quite the opposite! As Douglas Wilson notes in Worship Is Warfare,
All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Jesus Christ. Therefore we are to disciple the nations. The title deed to the world is in the hand of Jesus Christ. But the hand of Jesus Christ is part of His body—and we are that body.
This should make our obligations as representatives of God, as citizens of his kingdom, obvious. It should be self-evident what it means for us to pray, “Hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” The Lord’s prayer is a corporate prayer—our Father, give us today our daily bread, forgive our debts. It is a prayer that we pray together when we gather before the throne in the heavenly places. We enter to hallow God’s name in heaven, to glorify his reign in heaven, to do his will in heaven, so that when we return to earth we can have confidence that he will accompany us through his Spirit, and hallow his name, glorify his reign, and bring about his will here. The Lord’s prayer is a petition for help with the task he has given us to do. We are asking him to go into battle with us, to wrestle with us against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places (Eph 6:12). We are asking him to help us fulfill his Great Commission of discipling our nations and instructing them in everything he has commanded.
How then can we let them disciple and instruct us?
It is amazing that the vast majority of Christians today believe that separation of church and state means that the state can command the suspension of worship, and the church must listen; but the church cannot command the suspension of wickedness, nor must the state heed it.
Fear has a blinding effect. That is why God has given us heroes of the faith, like Daniel—to ensure that we will know how to act when fear is making it all strangely unclear. These things were written for our admonition, and so we are without excuse. Yet we continue to ignore that admonition. We have grown soft, dependent, and complacent.
Daniel was what the Bible refers to as a man of valor; a resolute soldier in the spiritual war that he was called to fight. He saw vividly the power of the spiritual rulers set against him (Dan 10:5–7, 13–14, 20–21); yet he remained faithful. We today, with far dimmer a vision, appear to have only Ambrose Bierce’s fascimile of valor—“a soldierly compound of vanity, duty and the gambler’s hope,” as illustrated in his little story:
“Why have you halted?” roared the commander of a division and Chickamauga, who had ordered a charge; “move forward, sir, at once.”
“General,” said the commander of the delinquent brigade, “I am persuaded that any further display of valor by my troops will bring them into collision with the enemy.”
In response to our imminent collision with the enemy, the church can either bow in fear before God, look the state in the eye, and say, “No, you move…”
…Or it can bow in fear before the state, look God in the eye, and do the same.
It cannot eat its cake and still have it too.
Last updated Thursday, May 7, 2020.