Tag Archives: Zacharias Ursinus

Absurdity

Can we pray to Jesus?  This is a question that I’ve answered countless times, both in sermons and here on Yinkahdinay.  It’s a question that I have to keep coming back to, because the answer sometimes given to that question is not only wrong, but harmful.  Some say that since Jesus taught in the Lord’s Prayer for us to pray to the Father, we must therefore only pray to the first Person of the Trinity.  The Lord’s Prayer says “Our Father,” and therefore we may not pray to Jesus.  Case closed.

However, if such voices are wrong, they fly against what we confess in article 32 of the Belgic Confession.  There we confess that we must not deviate from what Christ has commanded for worship.  Then read this carefully: “Therefore we reject all human inventions and laws introduced into the worship of God which bind and compel the consciences in any way.”  So, if someone says that we must not pray to Jesus, and Scripture says that we are allowed to pray to Jesus, that person is introducing a human law which illicitly binds and compels our consciences.  There is a lot at stake here.

There are several ways I could address this question.  I could point out the proper explanation of “Our Father” in the Lord’s Prayer (see here).  I could mention the explicit biblical passages where prayer to Jesus is not only observed, but even invited (John 14:14, Acts 7:59, 1 Cor. 16:22, Rev. 22:20).  I could discuss again how the primary author of the Heidelberg Catechism, Zacharias Ursinus, answered this question using an essential theological distinction.  I could point out the practice of the early church with church fathers such as Augustine, the practice of the medieval church with Anselm of Canterbury, the practice of the Reformation church with William Farel, or the post-Reformation church with Thomas Watson.  We could note that the Athanasian Creed speaks of worshipping the Trinity in unity, and unity in Trinity, noting how this has been understood throughout the history of the church.  We could note the prayer-like hymns we sing which address Jesus — and to which most people don’t give a second thought.  There are all these different ways of going at this issue.

However, today I want to take an approach I haven’t taken before.  It came to me while I was recently teaching a marriage preparation class for a couple in my church.  We were discussing healthy communication in marriage.  I pointed out what Scripture says in Ephesians 5, where the Holy Spirit draws a parallel between human marriage and the relationship between Christ and his church.  The thing that stood out to me is that Christ is clearly said to have a relationship with his church.  That relationship is spoken of in marital terms.  How absurd it would be for a human marriage to see one spouse being forbidden to speak with the other!  Imagine a human marriage where the husband can speak to the wife, but the wife is not allowed to answer and communicate with her husband.  Yet that’s what we’re left with when we’re told that the church of Jesus Christ may not pray to him.  We have a relationship where the communication can only go one way.  What healthy relationship only has one-way communication?  We realize that healthy relationships see communication going both ways.  If the church really does have a relationship with Jesus Christ, and if that relationship parallels human marriage, shouldn’t it be expected that the church would pray to Jesus?

As mentioned above, it is not only wrong to conclude otherwise, it is also harmful.  Think about it.  If we cannot communicate with him, how can we really have a relationship with him?  How can we live in union with someone with whom we’re not even allowed to speak?  How can we avoid the danger of turning the person of our beloved Saviour into a theological concept to be analyzed or argued rather than someone to be loved and cherished?  I posit that the challenge of real spiritual vitality goes up exponentially in Reformed communities where they are taught (and then believe) that they may not pray to Jesus.

So, yes, I do pray to my Lord Jesus from time to time.  I don’t pray to him all the time.  Most of the time I pray to the Triune God as my Father.  But I’m taught in Scripture that prayer to my Saviour is also appropriate at times.  I may pray to him in my personal prayers.  I may sometimes also address him when I lead congregational prayer — this is especially if a sermon has been on a text explicitly unfolding some aspect of his person or work (as an example, see the prayer at the end of this sermon).  Through the Word of God, the Holy Spirit allows me this privilege of being in a relationship with the Son of God where I may freely speak with him.  He allows you that privilege too and don’t let anyone take that away from you.  Don’t let your conscience be bound by human laws.


Ten Things I Learned from Reformed Scholasticism (2)

Gisbertus_Voetius

In the first part (see here), I began to make the case that Reformed scholasticism should not be dismissed out of hand.  In recent years, there has been a renewed appreciation for this method and the theology which it produced.  Last time, I mentioned five things where I’ve personally appreciated Reformed scholasticism:

  1. The Best Theology Begins with Sound Exegesis
  2. History Matters
  3. System Matters
  4. Asking Good Questions
  5. Using Precise Definitions

Today I’ll conclude with the last five things:

6. Making Distinctions

Distinguishing between different doctrines and their elements is a key marker of faithful theology.  Scripture teaches us to distinguish.  Moreover, the Christian Church has long recognized that he who would teach well must distinguish well.  Reformed scholasticism excelled at the science of theological distinctions.  Reformed scholastic theologians made good distinctions at the broadest levels.  For example, Ursinus wrote in his commentary on the Heidelberg Catechism, “The doctrine of the church consists of two parts: the Law, and the Gospel; in which we have comprehended the sum and substance of the sacred Scriptures.”  But they also made far finer distinctions.  Benedict Pictet, for instance, wrote about the ways in which ought to think of God’s love.  God’s love can be distinguished into the love amongst the persons of the Trinity (ad intra), and then his love towards creatures (ad extra).  With regard to his love for his creatures, that is further distinguished:  “1) God’s universal love for all things, 2) God’s love for all human beings, both elect and reprobate, and 3) God’s special love for his people.” (Mark Jones, Antinomianism, 83).  Backed up by scriptural teaching, such distinctions can be quite useful for clear and unmuddled theology.

7. The Value of Logic and Analytical Rigour

Good theologians use logic to advance the truth claims of God’s Word.  Our Reformed confessions do the same.  However, we find this tool used most effectively by Reformed scholastics.  A classic example is found with John Owen’s argument regarding the intent of Christ’s atonement.  Using a powerful syllogism informed by biblical exegesis, Owen made an airtight case for definite atonement, i.e. the biblical position that Christ died only for the elect.  Closely related to the use of logic is rigorous analysis.  Reformed scholastics understood how to get at every angle of a particular topic.  In his Syntagma, Amandus Polanus illustrated this when he discussed the doctrine of creation.  Using the biblical data, he discussed the efficient, material and formal causes of creation, as well as the purpose and effects of creation.  At the end of the discussion, you get the impression that every conceivable aspect has been covered thoroughly.

8. The Need for Polemical Engagement

As in our day, Reformed scholastics encountered challenges to the faith.  Roman Catholics, Anabaptists, Socinians, Arminians (Remonstrants), and others needed to be addressed.  It was not enough simply to make positive statements of the faith – errors also needed to be soundly addressed.  Therefore, in most scholastic works, you will find polemical engagement to varying degrees.  Many works from this period are exclusively devoted to polemics.  For instance, Samuel Maresius took up his pen against Isaac La Peyrère and his arguments for pre-Adamites.  Francis Turretin’s Institutes of Elenctic Theology was written with the idea that theology is best learned in the context of polemics – “Elenctic” in the title is derived from a Greek word which means “reprove or correct.”  The Reformed scholastics were not afraid to not only defend the faith, but also go on the offensive for it.  Many in our tender age might learn something from them!

9. Room for Theological Diversity (Within Confessional Bounds)

No one should have the impression that Reformed scholasticism was a monolithic movement.  Yes, it may be fairly argued that there were many key doctrines on which there was a broad consensus.  That consensus was defined primarily by the Reformed confessions.  However, within those bounds, one can certainly find a significant amount of diversity.  For example, there is the question of whether every individual believer has a guardian angel.  This question is not addressed in the Three Forms of Unity.  A Reformed scholastic like Gisbertus Voetius followed the lead of John Calvin and others in regarding guardian angels as, at best, uncertain.  However, Voetius also mentioned that other Reformed scholastic theologians such as Zanchius, Alsted, and Chamier affirmed the ancient position on guardian angels.  Can both views co-exist amongst Reformed theologians?  Why not?

10. There is a Time and Place for Scholarship

The best Reformed scholastics understood one of the most important distinctions:  between the pulpit and the lectern, or between the book written for the average church-goer and the book written for theology students or fellow theologians.  Put more technically, they knew the difference between popular and academic.  To be sure, not all Reformed scholastics did understand or employ this distinction, but the best did.  Consider Gisbertus Voetius again.  He was one of the most accomplished of the Reformed scholastics.  His academic writings reflect his great learning, breadth of study, and scholarly abilities.  Yet, this same Voetius wrote a warmly pastoral book entitled (in the English translation) Spiritual Desertion.  Before serving as a theology professor, Voetius had been a pastor and he understood that there was a time and place for the scholastic method.  The pulpit was not that place and neither was a book written in Dutch for ordinary church members.  To communicate effectively at the level of the regular person while at the same time being able to theologize with the best theologians – this is something that most Reformed scholastics strived to attain.  It’s something to aim for today as well.


Ten Things I Learned from Reformed Scholasticism (1)

Petrus Van Mastricht

Though not nearly as often as previously, I still sometimes see the word “scholastic” used as a pejorative – in other words, as a nasty term.  If someone is deemed “scholastic,” then he must be one of the bad guys in the history of theology.  It’s similar to the word “Puritan” for some people.  It’s an insult.  If someone is “Puritan” or “Puritanical,” then he must be, at best, suspicious.  It’s the same with “scholastic” – a dirty word that instantly casts a dark cloud.

At one point in time, these types of notions were wide-spread.  However, in the last two or three decades, there has been a shift in the way scholasticism is discussed.  This is owing especially to the influence of scholars like Richard Muller, David Steinmetz, and Willem van Asselt.  It’s now widely recognized that scholasticism was a method of teaching theology – it did not have content as such.  There were medieval scholastics, there were Roman Catholic scholastics, there were Lutheran scholastics, and there were Reformed scholastics.  Each used the scholastic method to teach the theology they considered to be correct.

I came to better appreciate this teaching method through my doctoral research on the Belgic Confession.  Medieval scholasticism is in the background of the Belgic Confession, especially in its structure (see ch. 4 of For the Cause of the Son of God).  Protestant scholasticism is even more so in the background of the Canons of Dort.  The Canons themselves are not scholastic – and that by design – yet they bear the marks of men who benefitted from the method.  It should be no surprise.  Many of the delegates to the Synod of Dort were either theologians who used the scholastic method or pastors who had been scholastically trained.

I’ve also benefitted from studying this method.  While I think it would be inappropriate to import the scholastic method into today’s world, there is still a good deal to be learned from it, especially as it was implemented by Reformed theologians in the post-Reformation era.  Let me share ten things that I’ve learned from Reformed scholasticism.

  1. The Best Theology Begins with Sound Exegesis

Reformed scholastics are sometimes dismissed as “proof-texters.”  Throughout their theology works, they make references to Scripture, but don’t always enter into exegetical discussions in those works (there are exceptions).  But that doesn’t mean that exegesis was completely out of the picture – far from it!  In fact, before writing works of theology, many scholastic theologians had first produced exegetical works.  Just on the book of Romans, the Post-Reformation Digital Library indicates 236 titles.  Not all of them are Reformed works, but many are.  Intensive biblical study was the foundation for Reformed theology taught using the scholastic method.

  1. History Matters

Ours is an age often indifferent to history.  As a method in the hands of Reformed theologians, scholasticism worked with the thoughts and conclusions of those long dead.  For example, I turned to a random page in an important scholastic text often referred to as The Leiden Synopsis.  Antonius Thysius is discussing what it means to be created in the image of God.  He refers to the view of Tertullian and others that “the entire man is propagated from the whole man.”  Later on the same page, he interacts with another church father, Origen.  That they were so intimately familiar with these church fathers demonstrates that their discussions were on a different level than many of ours today.

  1. System Matters

While they were not the first ones to understand this, Reformed scholastics maintained that biblical theology is an inter-connected system.  In this system, all the parts do relate in some way to all the other parts.  Moreover, it was clearly understood by most of these theologians that there is a “logic” built into Christian theology.  Therefore, when you read a text like Amandus Polanus’ Syntagma Theologiae Christianae, you can expect that he will begin with preliminary matters (prolegomena), move to the doctrine of Scripture, then to the doctrine of God, deal with creation, sin, redemption, and so on, up to the doctrine of the last things.  This pattern has been continued by many systematic theologians since.

  1. Asking Good Questions

If you want good answers, you have to ask good questions.  Reformed scholastic theologians were skilled at formulating questions that would lead one to helpful answers.  This was an essential part of the scholastic method of training.  Issues would be formulated in terms of either a thesis or a question.  While the Heidelberg Catechism is not a scholastic document, Zacharias Ursinus’ commentary on the catechism certainly is.  When he discusses QA 21 regarding true faith, he identifies six key questions that help clarify this doctrine:

  • What is faith?
  • Of how many kinds of faith do the Scriptures speak?
  • In what does faith differ from hope?
  • What are the efficient causes of justifying faith?
  • What are the effects of faith?
  • To whom is it given?

This method was also employed by Francis Turretin in his Institutes of Elenctic Theology – as well as by many others.

  1. Using Precise Definitions

Theologians often use the same words but with different meanings.  A Roman Catholic theologian will use the word “justification,” but he means something quite different than what a Reformed theologian means.  Hence, it is always important to precisely define important terms.  Going back to justification, we can note Petrus van Mastricht as an example.  In his Theoretico-Practica Theologia (6.6), he first gives an exegetical overview of the relevant Scripture passages (see point 1 above) and then moves into a dogmatic discussion based on that.  As part of that, he provides a precise definition of justification:  on account of Christ’s righteousness, God absolves believers of all their sins and pronounces them righteous to eternal life.  Justification, according to van Mastricht, includes God’s imputation of our sin to Christ and his righteousness to us.  He does not assume the definition of this key term, but makes it clear and proceeds on the basis of that.

(to be continued…)


Martin Luther: Law and Gospel

The other day I returned from the Philippines.  I was there to teach Reformation church history on the islands of Mindanao (Cagayan de Oro) and Luzon (Malolos).  One of the subjects that we covered was the topic of law and gospel in Luther’s theology.  Below are the lecture notes for this.  Enjoy!

***********************

6.4.3  Law and Gospel

I want to begin here with two quotes.  Please listen carefully:

The doctrine of the church consists of two parts: the Law, and the Gospel; in which we have comprehended the sum and substance of the sacred Scriptures.  The law is called the Decalogue, and the gospel is the doctrine concerning Christ the Mediator and the free remission of sins, through faith.[1]

That’s the first quote.  Here is the second:

We divide this Word into two principal parts or kinds:  the one is called the “Law,” the other the “Gospel.”  For all the rest can be gathered under the one or the other of these two headings…We must pay great attention to these things.  For, with good reason, we can say that ignorance of this distinction between Law and Gospel is one of the principal sources of the abuses which corrupted and still corrupt Christianity.[2]

Now who do you think said those things?  They were both written by Reformed theologians, not Lutherans.  The first quote is from Zacharias Ursinus, from his commentary on the Heidelberg Catechism.  The second quote is from Theodore Beza, from his confession of faith.  One was a German Reformer, the other Swiss.  Both maintained a distinction between law and gospel.

This is important to recognize because many have said that the law/gospel distinction is Lutheran.  They say that it has its origins with Martin Luther and only Lutherans hold to it.  Historically, this is only half true.

The law/gospel distinction is found with Reformed theologians before, during, and after the time of John Calvin.  It’s also found in the writings of Calvin himself.  So it is not correct to say that this is only a Lutheran doctrine – historically it has been maintained in Reformed theology too and therefore it is found in the Three Forms of Unity too.  In Lord’s Day 2, we confess that we know our sin and misery from the law of God.  In Lord’s Day 6, we know about our mediator from the holy gospel.  In the Canons of Dort chapter 3-4, article 5, we confess that the law is inadequate to save – “it leaves the transgressor under the curse.”  That is why the gospel is necessary according to article 6 of chapter 3-4.  There is a clear distinction between law and gospel in our Confessions.

However, it is true that we can trace the origins of this distinction to Luther.  One can find evidence of it among some of the church fathers (for example, Augustine at times), but it was Luther who recovered it in the time of the Reformation.  From Luther, it was transmitted not only to Lutheran theologians, but also to Reformed theologians.

Before outlining the distinction as Luther presented it, it’s important to consider the background.  Thomas Aquinas was one of the pre-eminent theologians of the late medieval period.  Aquinas held that justification takes place through progressive moral transformation, with the help of infused grace.  Thomas maintained that the Old Testament dispensation involved an old law.  The New Testament dispensation presented God’s people with a new law.  In both dispensations, believers are expected to obey God and thus earn his pleasure.  The difference is that under the new law, believers receive more grace, they receive more help to obey.  To be sure, Thomas said that the main thing about the new law was that it commanded faith.  However, this faith included human good works in its definition.[3]  So what you have with Thomas (and much of medieval theology with him), is justification by good works.

That brings me to the key point to keep in mind with this distinction.  For Luther, as well as for the Lutheran and Reformed theologians, it is a distinction that functions within the context of justification.  It grew out of the recognition that Thomas Aquinas and other medieval theologians had misunderstood the biblical doctrine of justification.  They had misconstrued how a sinner gets into a right relationship with God.  Thomas and many medieval theologians made it into a matter of works – new law.

Luther rejected the old law/new law scheme of justification.  In its place, he came to understand that Scripture speaks in terms of law and gospel.  We find it with Luther as early as 1518 in his explanation of the 95 Theses.  This is what he wrote regarding thesis 62:

The gospel is a preaching of the incarnate Son of God, given to us without any merit on our part for salvation and peace.  It is a word of salvation, a word of grace, a word of comfort, a word of joy, a voice of the bridegroom and the bride, a good word, a word of peace.

The law is a word of destruction, a word of wrath, a word of sadness, a word of grief, a voice of the judge and the defendant, a word of restlessness, a word of curse….Through the law we have nothing except an evil conscience, a restless heart, a troubled breast because of our sins, which the law points out but does not take away.  And we ourselves cannot take it away.[4]

This distinction became more defined in Luther’s theology as he continued to study.  In 1532, he preached through Galatians.  In one of his sermons, he defined the law as “God’s Word and command in which he commands us what we are to do and not to do and demands our obedience.”  The gospel does not demand obedience for justification, but “bids us simply receive the offered grace of the forgiveness of sins and eternal salvation.”[5]

Luther’s law/gospel distinction must not be misunderstood as pitting the Old Testament against the New Testament.  Luther maintained that the law was found in both the Old and New Testament.  Similarly, the gospel is also found in both the Old and New Testament.  So this is not a matter of placing one Testament against the other.  Law and gospel are found throughout the entire Bible.

There is a lot more that could be said about this, but let me just draw out one more point that is often misunderstood.  Some forget that this distinction functions within the context of justification.  They say that Luther (and then the Lutherans as well) are antinomians or close to being antinomians.  Because of the law/gospel distinction, the law has no place in the life of a Christian.  They say that, for Luther, the law is only about giving awareness of sin and misery, so that one will be driven to Christ for salvation.  After salvation, the law no longer has a function in the life of a believer.  In dogmatic terms, they say that Luther only advocated the first use of the law.[6]  Because of the law/gospel distinction, they say, he did not advocate the third use of the law, the law as a guide for thankful Christian living.  A recent Reformed biographer says, “Luther simply avoids discussing the Christian’s life of obedience as obedience to the law.”[7]  This is simply not true.  While it is very commonly believed amongst Reformed people, the evidence in Luther’s writings does not support it.  Yes, it is true that Luther’s emphasis is on the first use of the law.  But he also teaches the third use.  You can see it in his Large Catechism.  As he discusses the 10 Commandments, he not only discusses the accusing function, but also points out how these commandments are to actively function in the life of the Christian who loves God and wants to please him.[8]  Moreover, The Formula of Concord, written after Luther’s death (published in 1580) but a good summary of Luther’s theology, says this:

…We unanimously believe, teach, and confess that people who truly believe and are converted to God, justified Christians, are liberated and made free from the curse of the law (Galatians 3:10).  Yet they should daily exercise themselves in the Law of the Lord, as it is written, “Blessed is the man…whose delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night” (Psalm 1:1-2; see also Psalm 119:1).  The Law is a mirror in which God’s will and what pleases him are exactly portrayed.  This mirror should be constantly held up to the believers and be diligently encouraged for them without ceasing.[9]

From this you can see, that Lutherans, following Martin Luther, do indeed teach and confess the third use of the law.

KEY POINTS:  Luther rejected the old law/new law scheme of medieval soteriology.  Luther taught a law/gospel distinction within the context of justification.  The law demands payment and obedience.  Through Christ the gospel gives what the law demands.  Both law and gospel are found in both Old Testament and New Testament.  Luther emphasized the first use of the law, but also maintained the third use.  This law/gospel distinction became foundational in all Protestant theology, both Lutheran and Reformed.


[1] Ursinus, Commentary on the Heidelberg Catechism, 2.

[2] Theodore Beza, Confession de foi du chretien – as quoted by R. S. Clark, “Letter and Spirit” in Covenant, Justification, and Pastoral Ministry, 342.

[3] Clark, “Letter and Spirit,” 336-337.

[4] As quoted by Clark, “Letter and Spirit,” 338.  On page 173 in the Portuguese edition of Luther’s selected works.

[5] As quoted by Clark, “Letter and Spirit,” 339.

[6] Three uses of the law in Reformed theology:  1) The accusing use – the law exposes our sin and misery and therefore our need for Christ.  2)  The political use – the law is a guide for civil society.  3) The law as a guide for thankful Christian living in response to the gospel of grace.

[7] Nichols, Martin Luther, 81.

[8] See especially Concordia, 395-397.

[9] Concordia, 558.  See also the Epitome, Concordia, 486-487.

 


God our Father and the Address of our Prayers

For this coming Sunday afternoon’s sermon, the Catechism lesson will be Lord’s Day 46.  This deals with the beginning of our prayers, “Our Father in heaven.”  As part of my preparatory study, I was looking through some sermons of colleagues.  One of them was quite insistent that the words of the Lord’s Prayer mean that we must not direct our prayers to Jesus himself or to the Holy Spirit.  We must only pray to the Father, which is to say, the first person of the Trinity.  I have never been convinced by this and still remain unconvinced.  There are serious exegetical problems with that position and also a fundamental category error.

The category error is explained in some detail by Richard Muller in his excellent Dictionary of Latin and Greek Theological Terms.  Under the definition of “essentialiter,” Muller writes the following:

essentialiter:  essentially; Latin equivalent of ousiados as opposed to personaliter or hypostatikos; specifically, one way of predicating names of God.  Thus “Father” can be predicated of God either essentialiter or personaliter.  “Father,” predicated of God essentially, indicates the entirety of the Godhead or divine essence, which stands over against the finite order as Creator and Regenerator, i.e., “the one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all” (Eph. 4:6).  In this sense, “Father” indicates, according to the scholastics, Father, Son, and Spirit, since the whole of the Triune Godhead is over all and through all and in all.  When “Father” is predicated personally of the Godhead, however, it refers to the First, Unbegotten Person of the Trinity, not in relation to creatures as such, but rather in relation to the Son and to the Spirit…  (106)

This is a crucially important distinction and losing sight of this results in theological imprecision and misguided prayer practices.

When Muller refers to “the scholastics” above, he is referring to Protestant scholastic theologians of the post-Reformation.  Among those would be Zacharias Ursinus.  Therefore, we should not be surprised to find Ursinus using this distinction in his commentary on Lord’s Day 46.  Let me quote the entire section and please note the objection to which Ursinus is responding:

Obj. 1.  We call upon the Father according to the command of Christ.  Therefore we are not to call upon the Son and the Holy Ghost.  Ans.  We deny the consequence which is here drawn; for it is no just conclusion which infers that certain attributes are withdrawn from the other persons of the Godhead, when they are attributed to one of the persons.  Again:  the name of the Father, as the name of God, when it is opposed to creatures, must be understood essentially [emphasis added here, WB]; and where it is used in connection with the other persons of the Godhead, it must be understood personally [emphasis added again].  The name Father must, therefore, here be understood essentially, the reasons of which are evident:  1. Because the name of Father is not here put in opposition to the persons of the Godhead, but in opposition to creatures by whom he is called upon.   It is in this way that Christ is called by the prophet Isaiah the everlasting Father (Is. 9:6).  2.  Because when one of the persons of the Godhead is named, the others are not excluded, when mention is made of their external operations or works.  3. We cannot think of God the Father, and draw near to him, except in his Son, our mediator.  The Son has also made us the sons of God by the Holy Spirit, who is for this reason called the Spirit of adoption.  4. Christ commands us to call upon him likewise, saying “Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it to you” (John 16:23).  5. Christ gives the Holy Ghost.  It is therefore, he himself from whom we are to ask the Holy Spirit.

The use of the distinction between essentialiter and personaliter could not be more clear than here!  The primary author of the Catechism asserts that, on the basis of the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer, one cannot forbid Christians to pray to Jesus or to the Holy Spirit.  That prohibition cannot be justified on the basis of Scripture or our Confessions — and yet somehow it has embedded itself in some of our Reformed churches.  It would be interesting to research how that happened and trace its origins.  Was it imported from the Netherlands or did it somehow develop here in Canada?

See here for more argumentation in favour of prayer to our Lord Jesus and here for argumentation regarding praise and prayer to the Holy Spirit.