Semper reformanda was the clarion call of the Protestant Reformation—a rallying cry for the church to continually reform herself according to the sole magisterial authority: Scripture. Latin for “always reforming,” the phrase came to express the conviction that the church, though reformed, must constantly return to the word of God as her final rule in faith and life.
In the sixteenth century, the need for reformation was urgent and undeniable. The church had drifted from the apostolic faith into a labyrinth of doctrinal confusion and ecclesiastical corruption. The Reformers recognized that the gospel itself was at stake. At the heart of the Reformation was a return to the foundational biblical truth that a person is made right before a holy God by grace alone, through faith alone, in Jesus Christ alone. This stood in stark contrast to the Roman Catholic dogma of the day, which asserted that salvation came through a synergistic combination of grace and merit, of faith and works, of Christ and the accumulated righteousness of saints through the ages.
Sproul’s Getting the Gospel Right: The Tie that Binds Evangelicals Together
by Ardel B. CanedayIn this book review article, Caneday shows how Sproul’s Getting the Gospel Right embodies the semper reformanda principle. On one hand, Sproul calls evangelicals to be reformed—to hold fast to the settled Reformation consensus on justification by faith alone and the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. On the other hand, he urges evangelicals to be always reforming—to scrutinize contemporary ideas and practices in the light of God’s word, ensuring the gospel is articulated faithfully for each generation. Sproul’s book is a model of conserving the confessional heritage while remaining vigilant under Scripture’s authority—precisely the balance of semper reformanda: never novelty for its own sake, but a continual re-submission to the Word of God.
But the Reformation did not stop at doctrinal correction. The Reformers also contended that the church must reform its practice—its worship, discipleship, and everyday spiritual life—according to Scripture. The prayers and intercessions of deceased saints, the withholding of the communion cup from the laity, the imposition of unscriptural feast days, the veneration of relics, and other innovations had become mainstays in the religious life of medieval Catholicism. Yet these were practices without biblical warrant—traditions that obscured rather than clarified the gospel.
Reformation, then, was not merely a matter of getting doctrine right. It was a comprehensive call for the church to conform her entire life—beliefs, liturgies, structures, and ethics—to the pattern set forth in Holy Scripture.
Today, the call for a modern reformation often centers around concerns of doctrine—and rightly so. Many corners of American evangelicalism suffer from theological shallowness, doctrinal confusion, or outright error. The gospel is frequently obscured beneath a haze of therapeutic moralism, consumer-driven ecclesiology, or political idolatry. And yet, in this essay, I want to argue that the church today is in equal need of reformation in her practice. Just as the Reformers saw that unscriptural customs distorted the life and witness of the church, so too we must recognize that our liturgies, habits, and cultural accommodations—however subtly—shape what we believe and how we live as God’s people.
Déjà Vu All Over Again
by Michael HortonHorton criticizes the New Perspectives on Paul (NPP) movement for trying to reform Protestant views of salvation in light of study of Paul and Second Temple Judaism, but they pursue further reformation by departing from key truths of the Reformation. “That we are always reforming according to God's word is not to be denied,” Horton admits, yet he offers the NPP and the rest of us a caution: “but what we find in our classic Reformed resources is far more reflective of the ‘whole counsel of God’ than the reactionary tendencies of our day.”
If we truly believe that Scripture is sufficient, then we must not only believe rightly—we must also worship, live, and love according to the word of God. Semper reformanda must remain more than a slogan; it must become the heartbeat of the church today.
One of the most mature and enduring statements on the practice of the Christian life comes from the Westminster Shorter Catechism. Question 88 asks: “What are the outward and ordinary means whereby Christ communicates to us the benefits of redemption?” The answer is rich in both theological insight and pastoral clarity: “The outward and ordinary means whereby Christ communicates to us the benefits of redemption are his ordinances, especially the Word, sacraments, and prayer; all which are made effectual to the elect for salvation.”
The Shape of the Reformation
by Michael AllenIn this essay, Allen argues that always reforming is fundamental to the character of a tradition that is deeply committed to salvation by grace alone, through faith alone, according to Scripture alone. And this isn’t just true of the Reformation’s doctrinal character—it’s about both faith and life, because “a deep sense of living by grace always flows into a serious concern to live in God’s word.”
This simple yet profound statement articulates two deeply interwoven biblical truths that formed the foundation of Reformation practice.
First, the Reformers understood that Christ has ordained specific means through which he promises to meet his people and bestow his grace. These are not arbitrary rituals or human inventions. They are divine gifts, instituted by Christ himself: the word of God read and preached, the sacraments rightly administered, and the prayers of the church offered in faith. These are the places where Jesus has promised to be present by his Spirit.
This conviction was rooted in the New Testament’s portrayal of the early church, particularly in the book of Acts. In Acts 2:42, we read a concise yet profound description of the life of the early Christian community: “And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” This was not a random list of church activities. It was the Spirit-formed rhythm of Christian worship and discipleship—marked by the word, the sacraments, and prayer.
The risen Christ had commissioned his church to “make disciples of all nations,” and he promised to be with them always (Matt. 28:20). But how would he be with them? By his Spirit, working through the teaching of all that he commanded and through the sacrament of baptism, given “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” The ordinary means of grace—word, water, bread, wine, prayer—became the Spirit’s appointed channels through which Christ’s presence and power would be experienced by his people.
Second, and closely related, the Reformers recognized that these means were not merely symbolic or optional. They were essential to the life and growth of the Christian. Through them, sinners are convicted, converted, sanctified, and sustained. These are the means by which God builds up his church in holiness, strengthens faith, grants assurance, and comforts believers through suffering.
Formed and Reformed
by John BombaroIn this article reviewing Richard Phillips’s Turning Back the Darkness, Bombaro explores the implications of Phillips’s argument that the Bible (and all of redemptive history) follows a pattern of formation-deformation-reformation. As the people God formed for himself, we’re prone to wander in this life; that’s why he continually calls us to—and works in us—repentance and faith through the ministry of word and sacrament. “Always reforming” is the pattern for the church’s life until Christ comes.
This insight was not only biblical—it was also deeply practical. Martin Luther, for instance, saw firsthand how the proliferation of unscriptural practices in the medieval church—pilgrimages, relics, indulgences—failed to produce spiritual fruit. Visiting the bones of saints bred superstition, not sanctification. Purchasing indulgences brought anxiety, not assurance. The faithful were starved of true comfort and left grasping at shadows. In contrast, the Reformers pointed believers back to the simplicity and sufficiency of the ordinary means Christ had appointed. Grace was not dispensed through holy sites or sacred objects, but through the ministry of the word, the sacraments, and prayer in the context of the gathered church. It was there—among the people of God assembled for worship—that Christ had promised to be present by his Spirit.
This is how the reformation of Christian practice took shape—not as a rejection of form or tradition, but as a careful return to the biblical pattern of discipleship and worship. The message of Protestantism, over against the ornate machinery of late medieval Roman Catholicism, was refreshingly clear: if God’s people are to grow in grace, they must look to the means by which Christ himself promised to give it. No technique, no innovation, no spiritual shortcut could replace the slow, steady work of grace that flows through the ministry of word, sacrament, and prayer.
The Turn Toward the Extraordinary
And yet, even today, this Reformation insight is frequently forgotten. In an age of religious consumerism and spiritual restlessness, the ordinary means of grace can appear too slow, too simple, too unimpressive. Many churches turn to entertainment, self-help formulas, or emotional manipulation in an effort to fill their pews and hold people’s attention. Others become pragmatically driven, evaluating success not by faithfulness to Scripture but by metrics of cultural relevance or institutional growth.
In fact, one might argue that much of the modern church has shifted its functional trust from the ordinary means of grace to extraordinary means of attraction. Instead of drawing people to Christ through word, sacrament, and prayer in the gathered church, we often attempt to draw people through spectacle, novelty, and event-based engagement.
We Don’t Need Another Hero
by Michael HortonIn this essay, Horton explores the obsession with the extraordinary and the radical and the rebellious in our contemporary culture, calling Christians to resist getting caught up in the hype. This is no less true on Sunday mornings than in the rest of the day-to-day Christian experience: “To be sure, there are extraordinary—even earthshaking—moments in our lives,” Horton says. “However, for the most part, it’s the ordinary interactions, gifts, relationships, and chores that make life rich and meaningful. We don’t need another hero. We need ordinary shepherds who know who the Real Hero is and lead us back to him each week.”
A striking example of this comes from a church I heard of that puts on a large, free fireworks display every Fourth of July. When I asked local residents about the church, the most common response was not, “Oh, that’s the church that preaches Christ,” but rather, “Oh, you mean the fireworks church.”
This resembles my own personal experience. Years ago, I served in a church that held several major events each year in hopes of drawing people into the life of the congregation: an Easter “Eggstravaganza,” a trunk-or-treat Halloween night, a summer Bible camp, and a Christmas tea. These events were well-organized and well-attended. Our rationale was strategic: we saw these events as the wide top of a funnel. The idea was to cast a wide net through community-friendly outreach events and gradually narrow that funnel toward discipleship—Scripture study, worship, prayer, and fellowship.
In short, our working assumption was this: we needed to engage our community with fun and relevant programming before they would be willing to engage with the life of the church. Only after earning their interest through entertainment or seasonal charm would they be willing to hear the gospel.
But over time, several unintended consequences emerged:
First, the time and energy devoted to these events became overwhelming. A single weeklong Bible camp required months of preparation. I asked a pastor at another church how early they began planning their summer program. Without hesitation, he said, “We start in November for our one-week event in July.” One of our own staff members eventually resigned, saying she felt like a “cruise activity director.” It would be hard to argue this was a wise stewardship of time or resources. In Acts 6, when the apostles were asked to address needs related to mercy ministry, they declined—not because it was unimportant, but because it would draw them away from prayer and the word.
Second, the audience for our events shifted. What began as an outreach to non-Christians soon became a rotation of already-Christian families looking for childcare, seasonal entertainment, or social engagement. At one event, 98% of attendees reported they were already members of another church. In collaboration with other churches, we discovered a summer-long circuit in which Christian families bounced from one event to another, filling their calendars but doing little to deepen their discipleship or engage with unchurched neighbors.
Third, the events took on a sacred status in the eyes of many congregants. When we considered scaling back, we were met with resistance—not because anyone had theological objections, but because these programs had become beloved traditions. What had begun as optional ministry initiatives were now seen as essential to the identity of the church.
Fourth, many people remained in the wide top of the funnel and never moved toward the narrow end of discipleship. We had families who claimed membership but rarely attended worship or participated in small groups. One man hadn’t been to church in over a year, but he never missed an event. In effect, we had cultivated a culture of religious consumerism, where spiritual vitality was measured not by communion with Christ and his people, but by seasonal attendance and community involvement.
Fifth, we realized that these events were crowding out resources for the very ministries the Bible clearly commands. I spoke with one church that spent nearly 10% of its annual budget on seasonal programming. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit and giving declined, their first response was to cut church planting and missions support.
Sixth, these programs trained people to outsource evangelism to the institution of the church. When we discussed stepping back from event-driven ministry, we consistently heard the question, “But if we don’t do events, how will people hear about Jesus?” That question revealed a deeper issue: evangelism had been redefined as a function of the church as event host, rather than the church as a sent people.
A Call to Reexamine Our Assumptions
These unintended consequences eventually led us to ask hard, searching questions: Were our events really fulfilling the Great Commission? Why did we expect Jesus to bless efforts disconnected from word, sacrament, and prayer? Were we trusting entertainment more than the gospel?
As we examined our assumptions more deeply, we discovered something even more troubling. Much of what we had labeled as “ministry” was, in truth, built on the belief that entertainment was more effective than evangelism. That innovation was more urgent than faithfulness. That novelty was more compelling than God’s ordinary means of grace.
If we are to remain faithful to the Reformation’s legacy of semper reformanda, we must be willing to reform not only our theology but our methodology. Every ministry, every tradition, every event must be examined under one clear and courageous question: Where has Christ commanded this, and where has he promised to bless it?
Returning to What Christ Has Promised to Bless
The path forward is not flashy, but it is faithful. It does not require extraordinary ingenuity but rather a return to what is ordinary, biblical, and sufficient. The church of Jesus Christ does not need to reinvent herself. She needs to remember who she is, what her Lord has called her to do, and where he has promised to meet her.
The Reformation recovered the gospel of justification by faith alone—and with it, a vision of the church grounded in the means of grace. The Reformers believed that when the word of God is faithfully preached, when the sacraments are rightly administered, and when the prayers of the saints rise together in the gathered assembly, Christ himself is present. He speaks. He nourishes. He builds up. He converts. He comforts.
A Sixth Sola?
by John R. MeutherIn this provocative essay, Meuther urges today’s heirs of the Reformation to take far more seriously the centrality of the church’s word and sacrament ministry as God’s own promised means of saving and keeping his saints in true communion with Christ and one another. Meuther argues that salvation sola ecclesia, “in the church alone,” is not only faithful to the Bible but to the confessions and convictions of the Reformation.
Faithful churches in every generation will always face the temptation to measure their fruitfulness by what is visible, quick, and appealing. But the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed—small, slow-growing, yet ultimately unshakable. The growth God gives may not come through the things we can engineer, but through the things Christ has promised to bless.
A church shaped by the ordinary means of grace may be quieter, smaller, and slower. But it will also be deeper, more resilient, and more faithful. It will form people not around events, but around Christ. Not around performance, but around promise. Not around consumer appeal, but around covenantal commitment.
So let us return again to that great rallying cry of the Reformation: semper reformanda. Always reforming—not according to the preferences of our age, but according to the word of God. Always realigning, not with the winds of culture, but with the voice of Christ. Always repenting, always refining, always renewing—until our life together as the church bears the shape of the gospel we proclaim.
