Devotional 43: One Covenant, Two Dispensations: The Unity of God's Saving Purpose

The Confession Read

Under the gospel, when Christ, the substance, was exhibited, the ordinances in which this covenant is dispensed are the preaching of the Word, and the administration of the sacraments of baptism and the Lord's Supper: which, though fewer in number, and administered with more simplicity, and less outward glory, yet, in them, it is held forth in more fullness, evidence and spiritual efficacy, to all nations, both Jews and Gentiles; and is called the new testament. There are not therefore two covenants of grace, differing in substance, but one and the same, under various dispensations.

— Westminster Confession of Faith, Chapter 7, Section 6

Introduction

A Roman centurion stationed in Judea had seen the temple in Jerusalem with his own eyes. He had stood in the Court of the Gentiles and watched the smoke rise from the great altar, had heard the Levitical choirs chanting the psalms of ascent, had seen the high priest emerge from the Holy of Holies on the Day of Atonement in jewelled garments heavy with gold. Every sense was assaulted: incense and burning flesh, sunlight flashing on bronze and polished stone, trumpets and prayers, the press of thousands upon thousands of worshippers. The temple was religion made visible, audible, tangible — outward glory on a staggering scale. That same centurion, a decade later, walks into a Christian gathering in Corinth or Ephesus. A private house. No altar, no incense, no sacrifice, no vested priest. A table with bread and wine, a man speaking, a pool where converts have been washed. That is all. What would he think? That Christianity was a stripped, impoverished thing, possessing none of the majesty religion was supposed to have. Yet the house church in Corinth possessed more of God's presence than the temple in Jerusalem ever had. The glory had not diminished; it had been concentrated and made spiritual. The outward had receded because the inward had been poured out in fullness. The sixth section of the Westminster Confession's chapter on God's covenant with man presents this paradox as the great truth of the chapter. The Divines have traced God's covenant dealings from the necessity of condescension through the covenant of works, the covenant of grace, the testament sealed by Christ's death, and the shadowy administration under the law. Now they arrive at the administration under the gospel, and what they describe is a worship reduced to its essentials, preaching and sacrament, yet somehow more, not less, than everything that came before. The covenant of grace is one, the Mediator is one, the salvation is one, the faith is one. But the manner in which these realities are held forth to the people of God has undergone a transformation so profound that the old administration, for all its divinely appointed splendour, is called the shadow, and the new administration, for all its outward simplicity, is called the substance.

Scripture Foundation

The apostolic text that illumines this section is Paul's sustained meditation on the surpassing glory of the new covenant ministry in his second letter to the Corinthians. No other passage in Scripture captures the paradox of the new administration: less outward apparatus, more inward power; a ministry whose apparent poverty conceals a glory so weighty that the glory of the old is, by comparison, no glory at all. 2 Corinthians 3:6-11 — "Who also hath made us able ministers of the new testament; not of the letter, but of the spirit: for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life. But if the ministration of death, written and engraven in stones, was glorious, so that the children of Israel could not stedfastly behold the face of Moses for the glory of his countenance; which glory was to be done away: How shall not the ministration of the spirit be rather glorious? For if the ministration of condemnation be glory, much more doth the ministration of righteousness exceed in glory. For even that which was made glorious had no glory in this respect, by reason of the glory that excelleth. For if that which is done away was glorious, much more that which remaineth is glorious." Every clause in this passage refutes the assumption that more outward glory means more real glory. The old covenant ministry was a diakonia of the letter, of death, of condemnation. The law was holy, just, and good, but coming to sinners who could not keep it, its effect was death: it wrote commandments on stone without writing them on hearts. The new covenant ministry is a diakonia of the Spirit and of righteousness: the Spirit writes the law on hearts of flesh, and the righteousness of Christ is imputed to those who believe. This bears directly upon the Confession's language: the old covenant ministry was glorious, Paul insists. Moses' face shone with such radiance the Israelites could not look at him; the law was given with thunder, trumpet, and a smoking mountain: real glory, divine glory. But Paul uses the Greek verb katargeo, which means to nullify and bring to an end. The glory on Moses' face was a fading glory, never meant to be permanent, only dawn yielding to noon. Compared to the new covenant, the old glory is no glory at all. The Greek is pungent: ou dedoxastai to dedoxasmenon, "that which has been glorified has not been glorified." Paul is not denying the old glory; he is relativising it so completely it vanishes in the blaze of the new. Then Paul turns from the nature of the glory to the manner of its administration, and what he says illuminates the Confession's phrase "administered with more simplicity, and less outward glory" with apostolic authority. 2 Corinthians 3:12-18 — "Seeing then that we have such hope, we use great plainness of speech: And not as Moses, which put a vail over his face, that the children of Israel could not stedfastly look to the end of that which is abolished: But their minds were blinded: for until this day remaineth the same vail untaken away in the reading of the old testament; which vail is done away in Christ. But even unto this day, when Moses is read, the vail is upon their heart. Nevertheless when it shall turn to the Lord, the vail shall be taken away. Now the Lord is that Spirit: and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." "Great plainness of speech": the Greek is polle parresia, much boldness, much openness, much freedom of utterance. There is no veil in the new covenant ministry, no hiddenness, no deliberate obscurity that keeps the full truth at a distance. The veil that Moses wore was a mercy, for the people could not bear the fading glory, but it was also a symbol of the entire old administration: a glory that was partly concealed, partly withheld, not yet fully revealed. In Christ the veil is removed. The Greek verb is anakalypto, to uncover, to unveil. When the heart turns to the Lord, the covering is stripped away, and what was hidden becomes visible, what was shadow becomes substance, what was promise becomes fulfillment. And the result of this unveiled beholding is transformation. We are changed, metamorphoumetha, from glory to glory, progressively conformed to the image of Christ, the very glory we behold. This is spiritual efficacy: not the imposition of an outward code but the inward transformation of the whole person by the Spirit through the unveiled Word. The Confession names three ordinances through which this new covenant ministry is dispensed, and each of them is established by the command of the risen Lord Himself. The first is the preaching of the Word, and its charter is the Great Commission. Matthew 28:18-20 — "And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen." The scope of the new covenant administration is written into the very words of its institution. The old administration was delivered to one nation, the people of the Jews; the new is to be carried to all nations, both Jews and Gentiles. The old was hedged about with geographical and ethnic particularity; the new breaks every barrier. The old was administered in one place, the temple in Jerusalem; the new is to be administered wherever the risen Christ sends His messengers. And the promise that accompanies the commission, "I am with you alway," guarantees the efficacy of the means. The ascended Lord is present by His Spirit wherever the Word is preached and the sacraments are administered, and His presence is the source of their power. The second ordinance is baptism, and it is established by the same dominical command: "baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." Baptism replaces circumcision as the initiatory sign of the covenant, but it does so with a universality and a simplicity that circumcision never possessed. Circumcision was for males only, marking the sons of Abraham according to the flesh. Baptism is for men and women alike, for Jew and Gentile, for bond and free, signifying incorporation into Christ by the washing of regeneration. The outward element is water, the simplest and most abundant substance on earth. The inward reality is union with Christ in His death and resurrection. The glory is not in the water but in the Spirit who uses it to seal the promises of the covenant to those who believe. The third ordinance is the Lord's Supper, and the apostle Paul records its institution with a solemnity that marks it as a permanent ordinance of the new covenant church. 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 — "For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, That the Lord Jesus the same night in which he was betrayed took bread: And when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me. After the same manner also he took the cup, when he had supped, saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord's death till he come." The Supper replaces the Passover as the commemorative feast of the covenant community. The Passover lamb was a type; Christ is the antitype. The Passover blood was the blood of an animal, sprinkled on doorposts to avert temporal judgment; the blood of the new testament is the blood of the Son of God, shed for the remission of sins. The elements are bread and wine, the simplest staples of human nourishment. In the Supper, Christ is spiritually present, feeding His people with Himself, strengthening their faith, and setting before them the hope of His return. "Ye do shew the Lord's death till he come": the Supper looks backward to the cross and forward to the consummation, spanning the whole interval between the advents. This is why the Confession says the new covenant is held forth in "more spiritual efficacy": not because the Spirit was absent from the old administration, but because His work is now more direct, more concentrated, less mediated through an elaborate apparatus of types and ceremonies. The simpler the means, the more manifestly the power is of God. As Paul declares with apostolic finality, "Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God."

What the Divines Meant

The Westminster Assembly, meeting in the Jerusalem Chamber between 1643 and 1646, inherited a century of controversy over the relationship between the old and new administrations of the covenant of grace. Their formulation of Section 6 answered three distinct errors with a single, integrated statement of biblical truth. The first error was the Roman Catholic insistence that the new covenant sacraments confer grace ex opere operato, by the mere performance of the rite, and that this constitutes a substantial difference between the old sacraments and the new. The Council of Trent had declared that the sacraments of the new law "contain the grace which they signify, and confer that grace on those who do not place an obstacle in the way," while the old sacraments merely prefigured grace without conferring it. The effect of this teaching was to sever the unity of the covenant of grace. The old covenant saints, on Rome's reckoning, had ceremonies that pointed to grace; the new covenant saints have ceremonies that actually impart it. The mediation of Christ is pushed into the background, and the sacraments themselves become the instruments of salvation. The Divines answered by insisting that the efficacy of all covenant ordinances, old and new alike, depends entirely upon the operation of the Holy Spirit. The old covenant had its sacraments, and they were "sufficient and efficacious, through the operation of the Spirit, to instruct and build up the elect in faith in the promised Messiah," as Section 5 has declared. The new covenant has its sacraments, and their efficacy is no less dependent upon the Spirit. Preaching does not save by the mere vibration of sound waves in the air; baptism does not regenerate by the mere application of water; the Lord's Supper does not nourish by the mere ingestion of bread and wine. The Spirit must bless the means, or the means accomplish nothing. But when the Spirit does bless them, they are genuinely efficacious: the Word is the power of God unto salvation, baptism is the seal of the righteousness that is by faith, and the Supper is a true communion in the body and blood of Christ. The difference between the administrations is not that one lacked spiritual efficacy while the other possesses it. The difference is one of degree and clarity. Under the new covenant, the Spirit works through fewer means, simpler means, more transparent means, and He works with a fullness of power and a breadth of scope that the old administration did not know. But the principle of spiritual efficacy is the same in both. The second error that the Divines were answering was the Anabaptist claim that the old and new covenants are substantially different, with different memberships, different promises, and different signs. The Anabaptists, particularly those of the more radical wing, taught that the old covenant was a carnal and earthly arrangement, a covenant of works in which membership was by physical descent and the promises were temporal and national. The new covenant, by contrast, was a spiritual and heavenly arrangement, a covenant of grace in which membership is by personal faith and the promises are eternal. On this reading, the two covenants have nothing in common but the name. They are different covenants entirely, and the signs of the old covenant, particularly circumcision, have no organic connection to the signs of the new. The Divines' response is concentrated in the final sentence of Section 6: "There are not therefore two covenants of grace, differing in substance, but one and the same, under various dispensations." The covenant of grace is one. It was administered to Adam after the fall, to Abraham, to Moses, to David, to the exiles, and it is administered to us. The Mediator is the same Christ, who was promised to them and has been manifested to us. The condition is the same faith, which looked forward to a Redeemer yet to come and now looks back upon a Redeemer who has come. The benefits are the same: remission of sins, adoption as children, the indwelling of the Spirit, eternal life. The differences between the administrations are differences of outward form and measure, not of inward substance. The Anabaptist error, by fracturing the unity of the covenant, undermines the Old Testament as a Christian book and reduces the faith of the patriarchs to a religion of earthly hopes. The Divines' answer preserves the whole Bible as the book of the one covenant of grace and assures us that Abraham and David and Isaiah are our brothers in the same faith by which we are saved. The third error, more subtle, was the temptation, felt even within Reformed churches, to be embarrassed by the simplicity of new covenant worship. The temple was glorious; the upper room was plain. The Aaronic priesthood was magnificent; the local eldership was ordinary. The sacrificial system was rich with symbolism; washing with water and eating bread and drinking wine could seem sparse by comparison. There were voices in the seventeenth century, and in every century since, calling for the restoration of ceremonial richness, for a recovery of worship's aesthetic dimension. The Divines answered this temptation not by denying the outward glory of the old administration but by affirming that the new administration possesses a greater glory, a glory that does not depend upon outward splendour. "Fullness, evidence, and spiritual efficacy": these are the three words by which the Confession measures the superiority of the new administration. Fullness: Christ has come, and in Him all the promises of God are Yes and Amen; there is nothing left to be revealed, no further sacrifice to be offered, no further Mediator to be awaited. Evidence: what was dimly seen in type and shadow is now openly displayed in the historical person and work of Jesus Christ; the gospel is a public truth, proclaimed from the housetops, attested by eyewitnesses, written in the Scriptures, sealed by the resurrection. Spiritual efficacy: the Spirit is poured out in Pentecostal fullness, not merely upon prophets and kings but upon all flesh, upon sons and daughters, upon young men and old, upon bond and free, and His power attends the preaching of the Word and the administration of the sacraments with a directness and intensity that the old covenant did not know.

Theological Depth

Calvin, in his commentary on 2 Corinthians, notes that Paul establishes a qualitative difference in the very nature of the two ministries. The old was a ministry of death, not because the law was evil but because it could only condemn sinners. The new is a ministry of the Spirit, who writes the law on the heart. The superiority is therefore not merely a matter of degree. Calvin observes that clinging to outward ceremony after the substance has come is like carrying a lantern at midday. The sun has risen and the lantern only distracts from the light that now fills the world. Goodwin gave particular attention to the simplicity of new covenant worship and its relationship to spiritual efficacy. He observed that God deliberately stripped away the outward apparatus of the old administration when Christ came, not because ceremony had no value but because its time was over. The elaborate typology had served its purpose: painting Christ in advance, teaching the church to expect a Redeemer who would be Priest and Sacrifice and King, carving redemption's shape into Israel's calendar, diet, and architecture. But when the reality arrived, the types had to recede, for otherwise they would compete with the One they were meant to announce. A signpost left standing after the traveller has arrived confuses and misleads. The simplicity of new covenant worship, Goodwin argued, is not a defect but a perfection: directing attention away from the ceremony and toward the Christ whom the ceremony prefigured. Owen took up the question of spiritual efficacy with characteristic depth. He was concerned to answer the charge that the Reformed doctrine of the sacraments, that they are efficacious only through the Spirit's blessing and the believer's faith, reduces them to empty symbols. His answer was that the opposite is true. It is Rome's doctrine, tying efficacy to the mere performance of the rite, that empties the sacraments of spiritual reality by substituting mechanical causation for personal communion. True efficacy, Owen taught, is always spiritual: the work of the Holy Spirit applying Christ to the soul through appointed means. When a believer hears the Word preached, the Spirit takes that Word and makes it living and active, convicting of sin, revealing Christ, kindling faith. When a believer receives baptism, the Spirit seals the covenant promises to the heart. When a believer partakes of the Supper, the Spirit feeds the soul with Christ. None of this happens by magic. All of it happens by the Spirit's personal agency, freely working through the means as He wills. And this, Owen insisted, is greater efficacy, not lesser, than any mechanical operation could ever be. Turretin addressed why the new covenant has only two sacraments while the old had many, along three lines. First, Christ has come: many sacrifices reduced to one, many purifications to one washing, many feasts to one meal. Multiplicity was appropriate to expectation; simplicity to fulfillment. Second, the new covenant sacraments are more universal. Baptism is for men and women, Jew and Gentile; the Lord's Supper is for the whole covenant community. Third, they are clearer: water speaks of cleansing more plainly than circumcision; bread and wine speak of nourishment more plainly than a slaughtered lamb. The two sacraments embody the gospel in forms so simple a child can grasp them. Shaw draws attention to the three words "fullness, evidence, and spiritual efficacy" and unpacks each. Fullness means the new covenant revelation of salvation is complete: Christ has been exhibited, the apostolic writings set forth, the canon closed. The old was partial and progressive; the new is final and definitive. Evidence means the gospel is presented with a clarity types could not match. Christ's death on a Roman cross is public history, not ritual foreshadowing; His resurrection is attested by eyewitnesses who saw, touched, and ate with Him. The gospel is not a mystery for initiates but a message for every creature. Spiritual efficacy means the Spirit accompanies the new covenant ordinances with a power proportionate to their clarity. The brighter the light, the more powerfully the Spirit uses it. The old covenant saints were saved by the same Spirit, but they saw through a glass darkly; we see with unveiled face, and the Spirit's transforming power is proportioned to the revelation He applies.

Puritan Application

First, learn to love the simplicity of new covenant worship, and resist the temptation to supplement it with human inventions. There is a restlessness in the fallen human heart that keeps wanting to add something to what God has appointed. The medieval church added saints' days and holy water and incense and images and pilgrimages and relics and a thousand other ceremonies, all in the name of enriching worship. The modern evangelical church adds theatrical lighting and carefully produced music and visual effects and a dozen other innovations, all in the name of making worship engaging. But the impulse is the same: a quiet dissatisfaction with the plain means God has given. The Confession calls us to a deeper contentment. Preaching, baptism, and the Lord's Supper are sufficient because Christ is sufficient, and Christ is present in these means by His Spirit. When you find yourself wishing for something more, more emotional intensity, more aesthetic beauty, more sensory stimulation; ask yourself whether what you are really wishing for is something other than Christ. The simplicity of new covenant worship is a mercy. It keeps the focus on Him. Second, come to the preached Word with an expectation of spiritual efficacy. A quiet tragedy of the modern church is the congregation that listens to sermons the way a lecture hall listens to a lecturer: with polite attention, critical appraisal, and no living expectation that God will speak. But faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God. The same Spirit who inspired the Scriptures is present whenever they are faithfully preached, and He intends to use them to convict, convert, comfort, and transform. Before you enter the place of worship, pray. Pray that the preacher would speak with clarity and power. Pray that your own heart would be soft and receptive. Pray that the Spirit would take the preached Word and drive it deep into your conscience, exposing sin you have been excusing, revealing Christ you have been neglecting, applying promises you have been doubting. The efficacy of the Word does not depend on the eloquence of the preacher. It depends on the Spirit who uses it, and the Spirit is promised to those who ask. Third, make use of your baptism. It is a common error among Reformed Christians to treat baptism as a past event with no present significance, a ceremony that happened once and can now be safely forgotten. The Confession's teaching corrects this. Baptism is not merely a one-time rite; it is an enduring seal of the covenant of grace, a visible word that speaks throughout the whole of the Christian life. When you are tempted to doubt your acceptance with God, remember your baptism. The water that was poured upon you, or the water into which you were immersed, was a sign and seal of the blood of Christ cleansing you from all sin. When you are struggling with indwelling sin, remember your baptism: it signifies forgiveness and mortification, the putting to death of the old man, and vivification, the rising to newness of life in Christ. When you are tempted to drift from the church, remember your baptism: it was administered in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, incorporating you into the visible body of Christ and obliging you to live as a member of that body. Baptism is a means of grace for the whole journey, not merely the starting line. Fourth, approach the Lord's Table with hungry faith. The Lord's Supper is not a bare memorial, a mere remembering that stirs the emotions and leaves the soul unfed. The Confession teaches, with the whole Reformed tradition, that Christ is spiritually present in the Supper, truly offering Himself to the faith of the communicant, truly nourishing the soul with His body and blood. The bread is not changed in its substance; it remains bread. But through the bread, by the power of the Spirit, the believing heart feeds upon Christ. This is a mystery, but it is a true mystery, not an empty one. Come to the Table therefore with an appetite. Do not let familiarity breed indifference. Do not let unconfessed sin block the channel of communion. Do not let distraction steal the moment of feeding. Prepare your heart beforehand: examine yourself, confess your sins, renew your faith in Christ, and come hungry. The Lord who invited you to His Table intends to meet you there. Fifth, rejoice that the new covenant is for all nations, and let that universality shape your prayers and your witness. When the Lord Jesus gave the Great Commission, He did not say, "Go and make disciples among the nations that are culturally similar to you," or "Go to the nations where it is safe and convenient." He said, "Go ye therefore, and teach all nations." The gospel has broken out of the narrow channel of Israel and is now flowing to the ends of the earth. The promise to Abraham, that in his seed all the families of the earth would be blessed, has begun its fulfillment, and every conversion of a sinner from any tribe, tongue, people, and nation is another instalment of that ancient promise. Let this universality enlarge your heart. Pray for the missionaries your church supports, and for those you do not yet support. Give to the work of global missions. And in your own life, be ready to give an answer for the hope that is in you to anyone who asks. The new covenant is for all nations, and the testimony of your lips may be the means the Spirit uses to bring someone from a far country into the household of faith.

Prayer

O Lord God Almighty, who dwellest in light unapproachable and yet hast condescended to draw near to us in covenant mercy, we bow before Thee with wonder and gratitude. Thou hast not left us to grope after Thee in shadows and types, but hast exhibited Thy Son, the substance of every promise, openly and publicly in the fullness of time. Thou hast given us the preaching of Thy Word, that faith may be born and nourished in our hearts. Thou hast sealed us with baptism, marking us as Thine own and assuring us of cleansing from sin. Thou hast spread a table before us in the presence of our enemies, feeding us with the body and blood of Christ in the sacrament of the Supper. We confess that the means are simple, but the grace they convey is inexhaustible, and we bless Thee for a worship that directs our gaze not to outward splendour but to the inward glory of Christ. Forgive us, we pray, for the restlessness of our hearts. We have too often been dissatisfied with the plain means Thou hast appointed. We have longed for ceremony when Thou hast given us substance. We have sought emotional intensity when Thou hast offered us spiritual communion. We have attended sermons with critical minds rather than hungry hearts. We have treated baptism as a relic of the past rather than a seal for the present. We have come to Thy Table with casual familiarity rather than eager faith. Pardon our ingratitude and renew in us a childlike contentment with the ordinances of the new covenant, not because they are outwardly impressive but because Christ is present in them by His Spirit, and Christ is all. We pray for the preaching of Thy Word throughout the world. Raise up faithful ministers who handle the Scriptures with reverence and who preach not themselves but Christ Jesus the Lord. Grant that from every nation and tribe and tongue a great multitude would be gathered, washed in baptism, nourished at the Table, and presented faultless before the throne. And when the shadows have fled and the day has fully dawned, bring us into the presence of the One who is the substance of every promise, Jesus Christ our Lord, in whose name we pray. Amen.