Distinct Communion
Your relationship with God isn't singular—it's THREE distinct connections! Discover how communing separately with Father, Son, and Spirit revolutionizes prayer and transforms your entire spiritual life.
The beating heart of Christianity is a relationship with God. It is what impels Christian evangelism and mission: we proclaim the gospel so that men and women, by believing it, will come into a relationship with God. A relationship with God is the name of the game. We talk about it all the time. But what does it actually look like?
After all, the God of the Bible is three distinct persons. He is three persons just as truly as he is one God. Eternally and unalterably, he exists as Father, Son and Spirit. What are the implications of that for how we relate to him? How should it shape what we do when we ‘draw near to God’ (James 4:8)?
One possibility is that it should not shape what we do at all — we are simply to ignore the fact that God is three persons! That, I suspect, is the route taken by much today that passes for Christian devotion. We just leave the doctrine of the Trinity locked away in the seminary classroom and deem it inconsequential to ordinary, everyday piety.
Another possibility is that we single out one divine person in particular as a focal point. Our relationship is primarily with that person. It might be the Father. It might be the Son. (It probably will not be the Spirit.) But it is to that person that we gravitate. It is his name to which we address our praises and petitions. It is his presence and favour to which we feel most attuned.
It ought to be said that those two possibilities are not equally unsatisfactory: the second is preferable to the first. But they are both unsatisfactory! There is a better way, and it is this better way which I explore in my book, Distinct Communion: The Believer’s Relations with Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The title is a giveaway! The simple claim of the book is that we relate to the triune God by communing distinctly with each divine person.
That is far from being a novel claim. Many of our Christian forebears regarded distinct communion as virtually axiomatic. One of the greatest works on communion with God ever penned is John Owen’s seventeenth-century treatment of the subject. And Owen does not merely include the concept of distinct communion within his treatment. It dictates the whole thing! The Puritan’s foremost concern is to distinguish the believer’s different relationships with Father, Son and Spirit.
And if Owen provides us with the theory of distinct communion, another famous forebear shows us what it can look like in practice — Charles Spurgeon. The public prayers of this nineteenth-century preacher, as he led his congregation in worship week by week, are a real treasure chest! And one of the brightest jewels one encounters there is the uncontrived Trinitarianism of these prayers. Spurgeon moves gracefully and exuberantly between the divine persons, sometimes addressing one, sometimes another, sometimes still another.
Distinct communion thus has a rich heritage. But in my view, it needs to be recovered by the contemporary evangelical church. That is why I wrote the book. Its goal is not merely to stimulate a little theological reflection. It is to enthuse readers in the direction of a rethink: does my praying, does my singing, does my leading of congregational worship adequately conform to who God is — to the fact that he is three distinct persons?
Distinct communion, like any Christian practice, requires biblical warrant, and so the book delves into the language and imagery of Scripture. Crucially, distinct communion also requires a view of God in which the personal distinctions are clear and pronounced, and so the book promotes such a view of God. To do so, it majors on God’s great work of salvation, for it is there that the irreducibleness and non-interchangeableness of Father, Son and Spirit really shine forth.
Along the way there are interactions with the aforementioned Owen and Spurgeon — as well as other notable figures, past and present. And various questions arise and are addressed. Could it be unhelpful and potentially confusing in a public setting to address one divine person, and then another, in the same prayer? Is it proper to pray to the Spirit? How exactly might the content of my prayers vary depending on which divine person I am addressing? Should our communion with the triune God always take the form of distinct communion with the different persons?
To return to where we began, it is good that we make much of having a relationship with God. I certainly do not wish to dispense with that notion. I just would like us to be more precise. I would like us to recognise that this relationship with God has three strands: we know and love God the Father; and we also know and love God the Son; and we also know and love God the Spirit. In short, I would like all our talk of a relationship with God to undergo a Trinitarian makeover! I pray that my book may enable some progress in that direction.
