The Bible tells us that Jesus spoke seven times as he hung on the cross of Calvary. In order, these seven words from the cross are as follows:

To his Father in heaven Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34).

To the dying criminal who was being crucified beside Jesus and who asked him to remember him when he came into his kingdom, he said, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43).

John tells us that when “Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold your son!’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Behold, your mother’” (John 19:26-27).

Matthew records that “about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachtani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (Ch.27:46).

After this, “knowing that all was now finished”, Jesus “said (to fulfil the Scripture), ‘I thirst’” (John 19:27), in response to which sour wine was held to his lips.

John then tells us that having “received the sour wine, he said, ‘It is finished’” (Ch.19:30).

Luke records the seventh and final word: “Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!’ And having said this he breathed his last” (Ch.23:46).

Words from the Cross, as the title suggests, is an exposition of these seven remarkable sayings. But it is more than that. “To appreciate the significance of Jesus’ words from the cross”, says Ian Hamilton, “ we must see them in the light of the Old Testament’s foretelling of Jesus’ coming as the long-promised Saviour, the Servant of the Lord who would triumph over Satan and undo the tragedy of Adam’s sin” (p.7). To aid us in this Dr. Hamilton directs our attention in the first part of his book to what are known as Isaiah’s Servant Songs. He says of them, “It is in the prophecy of Isaiah that the portrait of the promised Messiah reaches new heights of clarity. In four passages – four songs or poems celebrating the coming Messiah – God paints us a picture of the one he calls ‘my servant, my chosen one’ (Ch.42:1)” (p.9). A short but illuminating chapter is devoted to each. The book is further enriched by brief meditations on Gethsemane, our Saviour’s arrest and trial, the seven words as a whole, and the miracles that followed Jesus’ death.

Words from the Cross is suitable for reading, of course, at any season of the year but will prove especially helpful as a preparation for Easter. The fact that none of the nineteen chapters are long makes it ideal for daily devotions.

Here are some quotations to whet your appetite:

From Chapter 3, The Saviour’s first song (Is.42:1-4): “The dependent nature of this servant’s life is highlighted: God himself will ‘uphold’ him. God says, ‘I will put my Spirit upon him.’ In his life of service to the Lord, the Servant will not act autonomously. He will live out his life of service upheld by God and enabled by the Spirit of God. It is this truth that lies behind Jesus’ words, ‘I can do nothing by myself’” (p.12).

From Chapter 5, The Saviour’s third song (Is.50:4-11): “Morning by morning, day by day, he applied himself to hearing, reading, pondering, memorising the written word of God. There were no supernatural shortcuts to understanding. There was no co-mingling of his humanity and deity…Our Saviour knew from experience that there are ‘No gains without pains’” (p.22-23).

From Chapter 11, ‘Oh the depth!’: “As we reflect on the chronologically sequential ‘cross words’ of Jesus, we can recognise a theological and spiritual progression. His words from the cross are not random utterances. They are deeply related, revealing a theology of the cross that marvellously displays the character of God” (p.53).

From Chapter 12, Jesus’ first word from the cross (Luke 23:34): “Was the centurion the firstfruit of Jesus’ high priestly, merciful intercession? Seven weeks after this, on the day of Pentecost, three thousand of these people, whom Peter described as the murderers of Christ, repented and believed; and, in the days that followed, thousands more, including ‘a great many of the priests’ (Acts 2:47; 4:4; 6:7). That was a remarkable answer to Jesus’ prayer and it has continued down the centuries” (p.64).

From Chapter 15, Jesus’ fourth word from the cross (Matt.27:46): “Jesus’ forsakenness was real. If it were not real that would mean he did not experience as our covenant head the judgment of God that our sins deserved. His forsakenness was not imagined, it was real. Just as our sin is real, not imagined, so the penalty God decreed for our sin is real not imagined. Jesus truly entered into the forsakenness, the God-abandonment, that my sin deserved” (p.90)

From Chapter 17, Jesus’ sixth word from the cross (John 19:30):  “In his cry Jesus meant that the awful price of making atonement for sin had been paid. Taking the place of his people he had drunk the cup of God’s wrath and paid in full the ransom needed to redeem them…Nothing more was needed. All had been done, the work of atonement was finished” (p.104-105).

Buy Ian Hamilton’s Words from the Cross.

The post Words from the Cross: A Review appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Why is this? My personal experience may shed some light. I first read Pilgrim’s Progress about 25 years ago, expecting a devotional classic, and I was not disappointed. After many dangers, toils and snares, Christian comes to that marvelous experience of the cross that Bunyan describes vividly: “So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.

It was truly an inspirational story – from the City of Destruction through the Slough of Despond to the Cross of Christ – with a cheerful ending: “Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, ‘He hath given me rest by His sorrow, and life by His death.”‘ And: a quick read too! Who claimed that the Puritans were verbose? I was only on page 35 in my edition when I became perplexed: How was Bunyan going to command my attention for the next 153 pages? Convinced the story was over, I nearly put the book down.

I discovered, though, that the story was not over. Christian was not yet saved. Still ahead lurked Vanity Fair, Doubting Castle and Deadman’s Lane. He would meet Simple, Sleep and Presumption; Formalist and Hypocrisy; Messrs. Facing-both-ways, Two-Tongues, Turn-about and many others, all of whom also came from the City of Destruction through the cross. These were fellow travelers who presumably had rejoiced at the cross as Christian had. But these were counterfeit pilgrims filled with dangerous, deadly presumption.

SALVATION IS A JOURNEY

Why was this a struggle to read? My difficulty, and its seeming inaccessibility to modern readers, owes to American evangelical prejudices. Specifically, the book makes little sense for those with a decisionalist approach to salvation, reducing the saving work of God to a spectacular, instantaneous conversion experience. Bunyan does not describe the Christian life that way. Salvation entailed a lifelong process of journeying through the wilderness of life, and conversion was requested at every moment. Christian’s journey to the Celestial City was threatened at every turn. He was sustained by the company of Hopeful and Faithful but nearly deceived by Talkative and Ignorance. Throughout the story Christian was always most vulnerable whenever puffed up with presumption.

Pilgrimage is a pervasive theme throughout Scripture. Peter addresses believers as “aliens and strangers” (NIV) or “sojourners and exiles” (ESV) (1 Peter 2:11). In contemporary parlance, we are homeless. As homeless people, we encounter unjust accusations (2:12), suffering (2:19), daily insults (3:14) and fiery trials (4:12-14). Similarly, Paul constantly reminds us of our pilgrim status when informing us that our citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20; Colossians 3:1-3).

The letter to the Hebrews is an operating manual for pilgrimage. It locates the Christian squarely in the desert, likening the Christian life to the wilderness wandering under the Old Covenant. In 3:7-4:13 the analogy is particularly compelling. Theologian Richard Gaffin comments on this passage:

Israel in the wilderness and believers under the New Covenant are in analogous situations. Christians receive the same promise of rest (3:11; 4:1); they are exposed to similar trials and the same danger of unbelief and apostasy (3:12,19; 4:6); they are exhorted to the same perseverance in faith (3:8, 14; 4:1,11). In New Testament as well as Old Testament times, God’s people are pilgrims and travelers; now as then, they are a people “on the way.”

EMBRACE THE PILGRIMAGE

In Hebrews 11, the author conducts his great survey of pilgrims. He describes these Old Testament saints as strangers and pilgrims on earth, with no abiding city, relying on faith in the promises of God, knowing that their inheritance was something better than this present world.

In these New Testament texts, the writers lean heavily on the Old Testament. In the desert wandering of the Israelites, we see Christian pilgrimage. The story of the Old Testament pilgrims is our story, written for us, Paul says, “on whom the end of the ages has come” (1 Corinthians 10:11).

As pilgrims, however, we do not merely recapitulate the story of Israel. We find our identity in union with our Lord and Savior – Jesus, the Bible’s ultimate pilgrim. Jesus created the world, John tells us, but that very world would despise Him. He would be tested in the wilderness, suffer rejection by His people, and wander this earth without a place to lay down His head. As a pilgrim, Jesus set His face upon Jerusalem so we may set our face upon Zion. To be a pilgrim is to embrace, in imitation of Christ and His pilgrimage, the life of the cross.

God’s pilgrims also accept His provision. In the Old Testament it was manna in the wilderness. In the New Testament, Peter offers “grace and peace (1 Peter 1:1,2) to the elect strangers, or exiles. This benediction is no social pleasantry or pious sentiment. It is an official declaration from Christ’s ordained officer. God nourishes His modern pilgrims, as He did His ancient pilgrims, through His grace.
By remembering our desert location, we increasingly realize our desperate state and our need for God’s provisions. The means of grace, through the ministry of the Word and sacrament, offer genuine nourishment. To reject that healthy diet and seek alternative nourishment is to claim to be wiser than God and yearn for the diet of Egypt.

Pilgrimage has consequences. Sustained reflection on this theme will reap several benefits for us. First it will subvert common misunderstandings of the Christian life. The besetting problem for American Christians – evangelical or mainline – is an overwhelming self-confidence that attends our notions of the Christian life. One advantage to singing the great hymns of the faith is their emphasis on our weakness and frailty. Many are hymns of pilgrimage, such as:

“Lead on O King eternal, the day of march has come. Henceforth in fields of conquest, Thy tents shall be our home.”

CRIES OF WEAKNESS

Echoing Hebrews 11, this is a claim of pilgrimage. God’s triumphant people are satisfied to live in tents while awaiting a permanent home. Similarly, Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress” is the cry of a pilgrim: “Let goods and kindred go, This mortal life also.”

We can cite others, but we must not omit this Welsh classic:

“Guide me, O thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty;
Hold me with thy powerful hand;
Bread of heaven,
Feed me till I want no more.”

RETHINKING WORSHIP

Pilgrimage also should yield more deliberateness and thoughtfulness in the Christian life. We will reflect more critically on the surrounding culture and the worldliness for which we are too readily “prone to wander, prone to leave the God we love.” We will grow in appreciation of and dependence upon God’s grace, and we will see His grace mediated through the Church, where we receive the benefits of the redemption purchased by Christ. Moreover, it will make us rethink worship: what we do and what we should expect (and not expect). Casual church attendance or impulsive church shopping are characteristics of those too comfortable in the wilderness of this life. A discerning pilgrim cultivates the ability to distinguish pilgrimage from its counterfeits. Churches that design worship for “seekers” often attract shoppers or browsers – not true pilgrims. Worldly people at home in Vanity Fair are very different from the heavenly people gathered on Mount Zion.

Read any old books lately? How about Pilgrim’s Progress? “This book will make a traveler of thee,” Bunyan wrote in his introduction. It will reorient us to see the Christian life as one of gradual progress through a dangerous journey – a sojourn that works out salvation with fear and trembling, relying on the provisions of a gracious God through every step. So read – or re-read – Pilgrim’s Progress. Only be sure to continue past page 35.

Reprinted by permission from Reformed Theological Seminary, Fall 2003

John R. Muether is Library Director and Associate Professor of Church History at Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando, Florida. His most recent book is “With Reverence and Awe: Returning to the Basics of Reformed Worship” (P&R, 2002), co-authored with D. G. Hart.

Buy the Banner edition of John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.

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The post Our Difficulty with ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’, and Why We Need to Read It appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Calvin’s sermons were delivered extempore, taken down by the remarkable Denis Raguenier, published by the diaconate of Geneva, and the proceeds used to support refugees. Initially, Calvin was not keen on them being published, but when he saw the level of competence of Raguenier and the copyists, realised the clamour of the printers and his public for them, he relented. Hundreds of them survive, many of them still unpublished, though they are gradually appearing. As Robert White, the translator and editor of these five sermons says, ‘it was the Word preached and applied from the pulpit which above all fashioned Geneva’s evangelical culture and made it the nerve-centre of Reformed Protestantism’. Not only that, but certainly that.

The preacher usually never saw the written results before they appeared. An exception to this rule was those collected as 65 Sermons on the Harmony of the Synoptic Gospels, published in Geneva in 1562, two years before Calvin’s death, to which he wrote an Introduction. Each sermon is thus an extended exposition and comment not on one text, but on parallel texts, where there are such. Calvin’s style is to comment on the meaning of the text and to apply it as he goes along. He seems to have held that the Beatitudes were not single sayings of Jesus, but summaries of his teaching, which accounts for the differences of wording in the Gospels. Seems reasonable. The text determines the form of the sermon. Calvin was still going through the Harmony in this way when he died.

These sermons on the Beatitudes, taken from the 65, were thus among the last that Calvin preached. They were the very last that Raguenier took down. As Robert White puts it, ‘Raguenier laid aside his pen and prepared himself for death, which came in the winter of 1560-1.’

‘Meekness and Mercy’ (not JC’s title, you understand) is a sustained call to compassion. If for you the name ‘Calvin’ suggests only ‘Geneva’, or ‘predestination’ or ‘Servetus’, then the sermons convey another side to Calvin, and will be something of an eye-opener: ‘Calvin the compassionate’. And if you are inclined to interpret ‘the poor’, ‘the merciful’ and so forth of the Beatitudes in a ‘spiritual sense’, Calvin thinks that this line is ‘too clever’. Here are some sharp words from the sermon.

It is all the more important, therefore, to understand that helping others amounts to nothing unless we are moved by a love which comes from the heart, and which bids us bear our share of the misfortune we see around us. And because God has bound us all together, no one can turn away and live only for himself. There is no room here for the indifference which promises tranquillity and the pleasures of a comfortable life: we must enlarge our affections as the law of love requires. (43)

We can proclaim our pity for those who suffer time without number; but unless we actually assist them, our claims will be worthless. There are plenty of people who will say, “Oh dear! How terrible to be like that poor man!” Yet they simply brush it all aside, making no attempt to help. Expressions of pity stir no one into action. In short, the world is full of mercy if words are to be believed; in reality it is all pretence. (43)

Because of the way in which Geneva was organised, the community is treated, more or less, as the body of Christ. But this ought not to blunt the force of Calvin’s words as we read them.

It goes without saying that these sermons bear little or no resemblance to the After Dinner Speeches that nowadays often pass for sermons. No opening jokes to settle the refugees and the Genevois, to put them at their ease. Somehow, putting people at ease was not Calvin’s style. Did Jesus do that?

It is interesting to reflect on the Christian ethic that Calvin seeks to impart through these sermons, with their emphasis on trial, suffering, hardship, pilgrimage, patient endurance and contentment. He was preparing his troops for battle. Calvin prayed before and after each Sermon, as the liturgy required. The editor has provided us with some examples. The closing prayer of the last sermon is magnificent – clear, reverent, impassioned. Not everything is bad about the French.

Robert White is to be congratulated not only for the translation but for the helpful end notes. This is a gem of a book, an excellent introduction to Calvin the preacher and Calvin the man.

The post Calvin’s Sermons on the Beatitudes: Paul Helm Review appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

The story of John Gibson Paton (1824-1907), Scottish Presbyterian missionary to the South Pacific, is well-known. Paton worked with the Glasgow City Mission while preparing himself for overseas service by studying medicine and theology. Ordained by the Reformed Presbyterian Church in 1858, Paton established a mission post on the New Hebrides island of Tanna. His autobiography tells how the loss of his wife and infant son in addition to severe privations and native hostility forced him to leave the island. He settled in Australia. There he extended the missionary challenge among the Aussies, as well as in New Zealand and Scotland, where his church elected him Moderator of her highest court in 1864.

In Scotland, Paton recruited seven missionaries for the work in the New Hebrides. He then settled on the island of Aniwa (1866-1881) with his second wife, Margaret (Maggie) Whitecross Paton (d. 1905), daughter of Rev. John Whitecross, author of the Shorter Catechism Illustrated. He related well to the natives there, had a highly effective ministry, and also translated parts of Scripture into the Aniwan tongue. By the end of the Patons’ tenure, most of the Aniwan natives were professing Christianity.

Beginning in 1881, Paton was based in Melbourne, Australia. He conducted missionary tours in numerous nations, producing large donations for South Pacific missions. He was a powerful yet simple speaker whose passion for missions knew no bounds. By the time of his death in Australia in 1907, he was hailed around the world as a great missionary leader. His family’s missionary connection with the New Hebrides continued until 1970.

Paton’s brother James edited his autobiography. James also obtained permission from Maggie Paton to publish her letters. Though many of them have been lost, a sufficient number survived to piece together a moving history of the Patons’ labors over a twenty-five year span (1865-1889).

The letters throb with heartfelt convictions. Most of them were written only for Mrs. Paton’s family members, and none were ever intended for print. Hence they are blunt, serious, and at times, humorous – all bearing the marks of great integrity. They provide remarkably realistic insights into life on the mission field from the perspective of a God-fearing missionary’s wife who was willing to follow her husband’s call in adverse and life-threatening circumstances.

Maggie Paton’s letters ought to be read alongside Paton’s autobiography. James Paton wrote that he was eager to publish these letters because “they present another picture of mission life and experiences in the New Hebrides from that portrayed in the now famous Autobiography of her husband. No feature will be found in the one contradictory to the features in the other, but many lovely and thrilling scenes of a supplementary and illuminative kind. Here we have the woman’s delicate touch; we see with the woman’s eye.”

Maggie Paton’s letters and sketches will move you; at times you will weep, at other times, smile. You will be stirred by the challenge of working in an isolated mission situation with only rare connection to the outside world. For example, she writes, “If you came to be missionaries, you would find it uphill work indeed, to be sacrificing your whole life merely for the sake of those who could not understand your motives, and who know not what it cost you to give up home and friends. But Jesus regards every sigh, and whatever is done for Him will meet with a sweet reward even in this life; for He who has promised can never disappoint”.

At times, Mrs. Paton is eloquent in conveying truth gleaned from the Holy Spirit’s teaching in the school of affliction. She writes, “It is only when we have a hold of Jesus’ hand that we can breast the billows that surge over and threaten to drown us”. Of home life, she says, “The life of the Christian home is the best treatise on Christianity-a daily object lesson, which all can understand, can read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest; in fact, it is the only Bible which many of them [the black natives] shall ever read! It wakens a terrible feeling of responsibility to see how they sometimes look up to us”.

She beautifully describes the power of the call to mission work when she writes of her husband: “His whole spirit is saturated with it; and it’s just as impossible to take the missionary spirit out of a man, as it is to put it into him. Besides, he does not feel that God has given him a direct call to leave it; and until that is the case, you may be sure he will not make the first move!”

I trust your appetite has been whetted to read this big-as-life book of mission letters. May God apply it to every reader, so that we examine our own sense of allegiance to Jesus Christ, the missionary par excellence, and realize afresh that without the mission heart of the Triune God, all of us would be lost forever.

JOEL BEEKE

You can purchase Margaret Paton’s Letters from the South Seas here. 

Featured Photo by Nick Sarvari on Unsplash

The post Joel Beeke on <br>The Letters and Sketches of Maggie Paton appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Catechizing is often a missing ingredient in the discipleship of covenant children today. Many parents reject catechizing by pitting it against Bible memorization. Yet those making this objection fail to realize that the catechism is often the best tool to help us understand the Bible. Terry Johnson’s Catechizing Our Children shows us the blessing of catechizing in promoting a vibrant biblical faith.

Johnson’s book is persuasive and clear. The greatest strength of his approach is that he sets catechizing in the ‘environment’ of personal holiness. He notes, ‘Without the daily domestic example of Christian lives being lived with integrity, we have little hope of catechetical usefulness’ (p. 4). He then addresses the history of catechizing in Protestant churches and the peculiar strengths and advantages of the Westminster Shorter Catechism² as a culmination of the best of Reformed theology and catechesis (chapters 2 and 3). His fourth chapter addresses the structure of the Shorter Catechism. Chapter 5 presents a suggested course of catechizing, followed by an appendix detailing how his congregation implements these suggestions.

Johnson recognizes that catechizing neither replaces Bible reading nor automatically secures the salvation of covenant children. But he rightly concludes,

Given our commitment to the well-ordered family, the well-ordered church, and prayer, we think that with catechizing we have the best method of indoctrinating our children, and the best hope of transmitting our faith to our children (p. 72).

Johnson’s book has minor deficiencies, many of which are historical. He states that the Shorter Catechism ‘was not suitable for younger children’ (p. 11) and that Puritans, such as Thomas Vincent, recognized this by writing commentaries on the catechism.³ However, this contradicts both the original preface to the catechism and the preface to Vincent’s commentary, which notes that while the younger children in his congregation memorized the Shorter Catechism, the older children memorized his commentary on it. Johnson also makes the common mistake of elevating Calvin to demigod-like status by acting as though he almost single-handedly developed doctrines such as Christ’s threefold office, the Reformed doctrine of the Spirit (p. 34), and the Lord’s Supper (p. 59). This neglects both the medieval and the Reformed precedents for such teachings. Yet these and a few other deficiencies do not detract from the overarching purpose of his work.

A good catechism, such as the Shorter Catechism, gives one the categories needed to understand the Bible properly. Catechizing Our Children speaks to the need of the hour. Take the couple of hours needed to read this book and you may reap rewards for a lifetime.

The post ‘Catechizing Our Children’ <br> Reviewed by Ryan M. McGraw appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

C. S. Lewis once wrote:

There is a strange idea abroad that in every subject the ancient books should be read only by the professionals, and that the amateur should content himself with the modern books. Thus I have found as a tutor in English Literature that if the average student wants to find out something about Platonism, the very last thing he thinks of doing is to take a translation of Plato off the library shelf and read the Symposium. He would rather read some dreary modern book ten times as long, all about ‘isms’ and influences and only once in twelve pages telling him what Plato actually said … It has always therefore been one of my main endeavours as a teacher to persuade the young that first-hand knowledge is not only more worth acquiring than second-hand knowledge, but is usually much easier and more delightful to acquire.²

I feel the same way about Calvin. On the one hand there are many who claim to be ‘Calvinists’ and yet have never read Calvin himself; and on the other hand there are many who despise Calvin and yet they have also never read Calvin for themselves but only rely on what others say about him (and many of those people have also not read Calvin either!).

What can be done to redress this situation? Robert White and the Banner of Truth Trust have provided the answer in the form of this handsome volume which describes itself as ‘Calvin’s own “essentials” edition’ of his justly famous Institutes of the Christian Religion. Calvin’s Institutes is a monumental work of biblical and spiritual theology that stands among the greatest works of Christian theology and Western literature. The Institutes was first published in Latin in 1536 and set out in its final form chosen by Calvin in 1559 (a French edition made by Calvin appeared in the following year in 1560). White describes the Institutes ‘in its final, definitive form’, as ‘a work of rare brilliance, providing as they do a wide ranging introduction to biblical theology and an authoritative statement of Reformed doctrine’ (p. vii). In between these two editions, three intervening editions of the Institutes appeared: 1539, 1543, and 1550 (the changes made in the 1550 edition have to do more with formatting than the addition of much new material). In all, the Institutes passed through six Latin editions and three French translations made by Calvin before receiving their final form (viii).

This present volume by Robert White is a translation of Calvin’s own 1541 French translation of his 1539 Latin edition of the Institutes. White formerly taught in the department of French studies at the University of Sydney, Australia, and has a special interest in the Reformation in French-speaking areas of Europe. He is the translator of Calvin’s Sermons on the Beatitudes,³ Songs of the Nativity,⁴ Faith Unfeigned,⁵ and A Guide to Christian Living,⁶ all of which have also been published by Banner of Truth (from the blurb on the inside jacket cover). Robert White is thus ideally suited to translate this book.

But the question that has to be asked is this: Why would someone want to read this earlier edition of Calvin Institutes (1539/1541) when the later, definitive edition of 1559/1560 is available? There are a number of reasons why I highly recommend this edition.

(1) It is less polemical than the final 1559 edition. The final edition (1559/1560) can be somewhat overwhelming for the modern reader with its very rich but tightly packed presentation and constant engagement with heresies and controversies of the sixteenth century. The 1541 edition, however, is largely (though not completely, see, e.g., pp. 353-58) free of polemic and devotes itself to a clear exposition of the ‘Christian Religion.’

(2) It was written for the common people in everyday French. As White points out in the Introduction,

The success of the 1536 Institutes and the Reformer’s own desire for a fuller exposition of the faith accounts for a second, much enlarged, Latin edition of 1539, and for the decision to publish, in 1541, a French version intended no longer for educated Latin speakers, but for a much bigger audience of Calvin’s countrymen, in order to enable them to ‘further profit in God’s school’ [Calvin] (p. viii).

White explains his desire ‘to allow the author of the Institutes to speak as naturally in English as he does in French’ (p. xii). He has achieved his goal admirably. White’s own skilful English translation preserves Calvin’s desire for an eminently readable edition of his Institutes that will be warmly welcomed by all.

(3) It has a more conversational, pastoral quality, as it was written during Calvin’s first real pastorate in Strasbourg. By the time this edition was published in 1541, Calvin had completed his fourth year of pastoral ministry to French-speaking religious refugees in a German-speaking land. Calvin’s work is thus not the product of an ivory tower theologian but rather that of a pastor-theologian who shared in the daily lives of those who had fled persecution in their homeland. Thus this book is just as much for the person in the pew as it is for the preacher in the pulpit.

(4) This was the first time that Calvin introduced an extended discussion of the doctrine of justification by faith and grace alone, in keeping with the fact that Calvin was working on his Romans commentary at the very same time (see chapter 6, ‘Justification by Faith and the Merit of Works,’ pp. 351-428). Calvin begins by noting that it is ‘the chief article of the Christian religion’ (p. 351). Calvin then defines justification in the following terms: ‘That man is justified before God who in God’s judgement is reckoned to be righteous and who is acceptable to his righteousness’ (p. 352). That person is accepted as righteousness when he ‘grasps by faith the righteousness of Jesus Christ; when clothed with it he appears before God’s face not as a sinner but as righteous’ (p. 352). This righteousness becomes ours, says Calvin, because of our union with Jesus Christ (commenting on 2 Cor. 5:21): ‘We observe here that Paul situates our righteousness not in ourselves but in Christ, and that righteousness is ours for no other reason than that we share in Christ, for in possessing him we possess along with him, all his riches’ (p. 360). The other two key elements of justification that Calvin discusses in this chapter are the forgiveness of sins (pp. 358-60) and the importance of affirming that justification is ‘by faith alone’ (pp. 356-58).

(5) The Institutes exhibit a beautiful blend of exegetical insight and theological reflection. In our own day there still exists a big divide between the disciplines of biblical studies and systematic theology, a divide that was unknown to Calvin (and should be resisted today). Calvin’s commentary writing continued alongside of his continual revision and translation of his Institutes so that the one fed into the other. In the introduction to this edition of the Institutes Calvin writes (p.xvi):

This, however, I can promise: it can serve as a key and opening, allowing all God’s children access to a true and proper understanding of holy Scripture. In future, therefore, if our Lord gives me the means and opportunity to write commentaries, I will be as brief as possible. There will be no need for lengthy digressions, since I have here provided a detailed explanation of almost all the articles which concern the Christian faith.

Where is this ‘detailed explanation of almost all the articles which concern the Christian faith’ to be found? Answer: The Institutes. The Institutes provided the reader of his commentaries with a doctrinal key for interpreting Scripture and a more systematic treatment of theological issues raised in his commentaries.

(6) The Institutes deal not just in doctrinal matters but also in the cultivation of true ‘religion’ or ‘piety.’ The post-Enlightenment split between the study of the Bible as an academic discipline and the reading of the Bible as spiritual nurture was foreign to writers like Calvin. In fact I have been reading a few pages of this edition of the Institutes during my morning devotions with much spiritual benefit. The opening chapter of the Institutes demonstrates that true knowledge (that is, ‘the knowledge of God and knowledge of ourselves,’ p. 1) is not merely intellectual but also experiential, personal and relational:

The purpose of the second [knowledge of ourselves] is to show us our weakness, vanity and vileness, to fill us with despair, distrust and hatred of ourselves, and then to kindle in us the desire to seek God, for in him is found all that is good and of which we ourselves are empty and deprived. (p. 1, emphasis added)

This knowledge of God and knowledge of ourselves comprises not just the acquisition of theoretical knowledge but should ‘kindle in us the desire to seek God, for in him is found all that is good.’ Again Calvin writes:

Thus in recognizing our lowliness, ignorance and vanity, as well as our perversity and corruption, we come to understand that true greatness, wisdom, truth, righteousness and purity reside in God. Lastly, we are impelled by our miseries to reflect on the Lord’s good gifts, and we cannot sincerely yearn for him until we have first begun to cease being pleased with ourselves. (1, emphasis added)

Thus for Calvin, the knowledge of God is not just knowledge about God but a personal knowledge of God, a ‘yearn[ing] for him,’ a seeking him, and a finding of all our good in him (see also pp. 8-9).

Calvin then proceeds logically and methodologically from the knowledge of God (ch 1) and man (ch 2) to the law (ch 3), faith (with an explanation of the Apostle’s Creed, ch 4), repentance (ch 5), justification by faith (ch 6), the relation of the Old and New Testaments (ch 7), predestination and the providence of God (ch 8), prayer (cf. 9) the sacraments (ch. 10), baptism (ch 11), the Lord’s Supper (ch 12), the powers of the church (ch 15), civil government (ch 16) and the Christian life (ch. 17). There is such a rich feast here!

The appendix then provides a very helpful Thematic Outline which correlates the principal topics which appear in the present 1541 edition with those of the 1560 edition, showing where the same topics appear in both editions.

I cannot more highly recommend this eminently readable, beautifully bound, theologically profound, spiritually uplifting translation of Calvin’s monumental Institutes of the Christian Religion. And please don’t be put off by its size. If you read just two pages a day you will have read it in a year! More than that, you will be the richer and better for it. It is a book that will not only inform your mind, but under God transform your life. Take up and read!

Buy Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion (1541), recently reissued with a new cover design.

This piece was taken with permission from Vox Reformata and first appeared on this site in July 2015. Rev. Dr. Martin Williams is Head of Theology and Lecturer in New Testament at the Reformed Theological College in Melbourne, Australia, and editor of Vox Reformata.

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The Pastor: His Call, Character, and Work, by Faculty and Friends of ‘Old’ Princeton. Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, 2020, x + 272 pages, $20.00.

From time to time I have discussed with other ministers what sorts of things they are assigning and reading with their pastoral interns. Over the course of the years many fine books and articles have found their way on and off that reading list. Today I am reviewing a wonderful little book that I will be commending to all my pastor friends not only to assign to their interns but also to pick up and read for themselves. The book is The Pastor: His Call, Character, and Work by Faculty and Friends of ‘Old’ Princeton.

For the bibliophiles out there, the book itself feels simple and refined. Published by Banner of Truth, the book is bound in hard cloth with gilt lettering, beautifully laid out, including a dust jacket, and has that lovely sort of spine that makes you glad to be holding a Banner book. The footprint is on the smaller side so it is not heavy in the hand, and with 272 pages it does not feel overwhelming. It is the sort of book that makes you want to pick it up on a Lord’s Day afternoon, and with the individual essays each standing on their own merit, it is easy to set down and come back to.

If the casing of the book is refined, it is exceeded in its refinement only by the richness of the content. Written by faculty and students of “old” Princeton, the book contains nine essays on the call, character, and work of pastoral ministry that are brimming not only with biblical erudition but with a deep sense of practical piety. The essay by William S. Plumer on “The Scripture Doctrine of a Call to the Ministry” will be particularly useful for younger men still wondering whether they might be called to the ministry, and what that call looks like. On the other hand, the essay by Archibald Alexander on “The Pastoral Office” will be particularly useful to reorient and recalibrate those of us who have been serving for many years.

One of the characteristics that sets this little book apart from so many others is the attention that is given to the importance of cultivating piety. Archibald Alexander contributes a useful essay “On the Importance of Aiming at Eminent Piety,” but, really, the theme is like a rich vein that courses through the entire book. In the concluding address, entitled “The Ministry We Need,” Nicholas Murray sums it up well, “No gifts, however splendid or attractive, can compensate for the lack of piety. … unless his heart is deeply imbued with the Spirit of Christ, he fails to accomplish many of the great ends for which the ministry was instituted” (213).

The emphasis on piety may lead us to ask with Paul “Who is sufficient for these things?” The book also leads us back to the sufficiency of the Great Shepherd, and the chapter on “The Lord Jesus Christ the Example of the Minister” by J. W. Alexander stands out as a real highlight. The book wonderfully balances both the convicting and comforting influences of the Spirit as Ashbel Green reminds us when he says, “I desire not to abate or soften any censure which a declaration of the truth may inflict. Let the truth do its office fairly with the consciences of us all” (207).

This is a book that will help to “let the truth do its office fairly” and is a wonderful little book that will serve both pastors and prospective pastors well.

Joel D. Fick is the pastor of Redemption Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Gainesville, Florida, and also serves on the Committee on Christian Education. This post first appeared at Ordained Servant Online, May 2022.

Watch Sinclair Ferguson on The Pastor:

Buy The Pastor: His Call, Character, and Work

Feature Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash

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The following remarkable statement will help to set the scene. “The Methodist Revival in Wales may be viewed as a season of revival in the country extending over almost a hundred years from 1735 onwards. Looked at in more detail it may be seen as a series of major awakenings for extended periods spread over considerable areas of the country (in 1739, 1762, 1781, 1790, 1805 and 1817, for example), interspersed with more frequent, sudden and powerful visitations confined to smaller localities – a county, a town or village, or even a single congregation” (p.164). Thomas Charles’ life is located within this so-favoured hundred year period. He was born in Carmarthenshire, South Wales, in 1755, and died in Bala, North Wales, in 1814.

His connection with the Methodist Revival, however, was much more intimate than that. It was through the preaching of one its most prominent early leaders, Daniel Rowland, for example, that he was converted. And throughout most of his life as a gospel minister he significantly contributed to it by his preaching, his writing, his wise counsel, his work as an educator of the young, his promotion of the Welsh Bible, and his organizational skills.

Charles’ conversion took place on the 20^th of January 1773. He was seventeen years old at the time and had been listening to Daniel Rowland preach on Hebrews 4:15. “A day much to be remembered by me as long as I live”, he writes. “Ever since the happy day I have lived in a new heaven and a new earth. The change a blind man who receives his sight experiences does not exceed the change I at that time experienced in my mind…” (p.21). In 1781 he could write, “O the happy return of this most beneficial day! A day to be happily remembered for on it the light of the knowledge of the glorious gospel first shone brightly in my soul in the face of Jesus Christ”.

Charles was ordained a deacon of the Church of England on the 14^th of June 1778 and for the next five years he served as a curate in Sparkford in Somerset. The early days were difficult but later on he could write, “I have had reason to believe the Lord has in some degree blessed my poor labours in this dark corner. Some are under concern about their souls and my congregations” – he served other churches too – “in general increase”. Though he was to remain a minister of the Church of England for many years to come a move to Bala in 1783 and a swift dismissal from three successive curacies on account of his evangelical preaching caused him to throw in his lot with the Welsh Calvinistic Methodists.

The principal factor in his move to Bala was his forthcoming marriage to a young lady by the name of Sally Jones. The story of their romance is related in some detail in Aaron’s biography and makes fascinating and delightful reading. Their marriage was a very happy one and death only separated them for a matter of days. “It is surely the case”, says Aaron, “that his love for Sally was an element of God’s providential care of his church in Wales for, without it, it is almost certain that Charles would have followed the natural path, one which he had clearly contemplated at times, of ministry in England”. And if that had been so, he continues, “his energy and leadership would have been lost to the ranks of Welsh Methodism” (p.78).

In Bala Charles had a congregation of about two thousand hearers. In a letter dating from 1785 he relates how “the preaching of the gospel has been attended, especially at seasons, with great visible power, and its effects in civilizing the country at large, and in bringing many to saving knowledge of the truth, are evident to all” (p.114). Greater things were to come. On the first Sunday in October 1791, at the close of the evening service, there broke out what Aaron calls “an extraordinarily powerful revival”. Here is a little of Charles’ own account of it: “In our town of Bala, for some time back, we have had a very great, powerful, and glorious out-pouring of the Holy Spirit of our God, on the people in general, especially young people…Scores of the wildest and most inconsiderate of the people have been awakened…In the course of the eight years I have laboured in this country, I have had frequent opportunities of seeing, and feeling also, much of the divine presence in the Lord’s work and ordinances, and great success attending the ministration of the word; but nothing to equal the present work” (p.164-167).

Charles’ preaching ministry was by no means confined to Bala. He had an itinerant ministry that took him all over Wales and beyond. The biography outlines it at some length. So too his many other activities. We learn about his organizing of Circulating Schools and Sunday Schools for the Christian education of the young, his editorial work on the Welsh Bible, the books he wrote (including a Bible Dictionary in Welsh), the magazines he edited, his involvement in the London Missionary Society, and his leadership of Welsh Methodism. “Once he was assured of what had to be done and of his role in it, he responded with amazing vigour, perseverance and unrelenting labours” (p.357).

He had his periods of ill-health and, on one occasion, a brush with death. Frostbite to a thumb and the pain and infection that followed so weakened him that there were fears for his life. It led to his thumb being amputated and a remarkable answer to prayer. The night before the operation a prayer meeting was held for him. One old man cried out, “Fifteen, Lord; wilt thou not give him to us for fifteen years? For my brethren’s sake, this prayer is made, and for the sake of my neighbours too” (p.184). And the Lord heard! Aaron notes that when Charles died, “he had lived all but seven weeks of the added fifteen years and it is generally accepted that these were the most fruitful fifteen years of his ministry” (p.184).

He was a man to whom it is impossible not to warm. Readers of this biography will feel the attraction of his humility, his zeal, his sense of humour, his love for Sally, his dedication to the cause of Christ, and his hard work. Aaron tells us, however, that “of all his attributes, those mentioned most often by his contemporaries and biographers alike were his spiritual wisdom and balance” (p.355). He then quotes from Thomas Jones of Denbigh, his closest friend: “By grace, he was made an experienced, discerning, warm-hearted, true Christian at the very onset of his career; he was, as it were, old in learning and spiritual experience when still only a boy” (p.355). Nor need today’s Christians take Jones at his word. Aaron’s biography will confirm it. So too Thomas Charles’ own Spiritual Counsels, recently reprinted by the Trust.

David Campbell is minister of North Preston Evangelical Church and a trustee of the Banner of Truth Trust. He is married to Mairi, and together they have two married daughters.

Picture credit: William Roos, in the National Library of Wales. Public domain.

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The author of The Life and Labours of Asahel Nettleton, Bennet Tyler, was a pastor for many years in South Britain, Connecticut, where he knew Asahel Nettleton (1783-1844) intimately. He eventually became the president of Dartmouth College. He is famous for his polemics against the liberal Nathaniel Taylor and the New Haven theology, a view which countered the Edwardsian and Augustinian view of depravity. This became known as the “Tyler-Taylor controversy” The end result was the constituting of a new seminary, first called the Theological Institute of Connecticut and later Hartford Theological Seminary, where he served as president until his death. Asahel Nettleton was also instrumental in beginning this new institution.[1]

Andrew Bonar (1810-1892) was a Scottish minister who “remodeled in some parts” this work. He is known for his association with the revival movement in Scotland and his association with the well-known Robert Murray McCheyne, whose memoirs he wrote.[2]

According to the author, Asahel Nettleton was instrumental in the conversion of 30,000 souls. What evangelistic leader would not want to know about such a man? Nettleton first received his religious impressions at age eighteen in North Killingworth, Connecticut. His agonizing bout with conviction lasted ten months. He was converted in the midst of revival. In fact, the then new publication called the “Connecticut Evangelical Magazine” recorded his conversion as part of its revival intelligence.

Though an average student, he maintained a good relationship at Yale with President Timothy Dwight, grandson of Jonathan Edwards, who gave him warm approbation. Nettleton read nearly all of Edwards’s works while in school, and those of his two most famous students, Bellamy and Hopkins.

Though his missionary intentions were thwarted due to debt, he eventually paid off that debt, and, through the providence of God, began itinerant work. He had studied the ill effects of James Davenport, gathering as much information as possible. Davenport had itinerated during the Great Awakening in the mid-1700s and had caused much turmoil with his caustic manner. The result was that the influence of several pastors was marginalized, some churches split, and general confusion prevailed.

Nettleton, much the wiser for this knowledge, was diligent to avoid such sophomoric behavior. He never came uninvited into another’s parish, and sought to build up the pastors, submitting entirely to their authority over their churches. The end product was revival and recovery of trust in the very “waste places” which had been created by Davenport’s wake half a century earlier.

Nettleton was a man of poor health, perhaps suffering from a recurring form of malarial fever. However, his preaching had a powerful effect. A Dr. Humphrey of the “Religious Intelligencer” described one message as “one continued flash of conviction” [3]. One observer said:

“The chief excellence of his preaching seemed to consist in great plainness, and simplicity, and discrimination – in much solemnity and affectionate earnestness of manner – in the application of the truth to the heart and conscience – in taking away the excuses of sinners, and leaving them without help and hope, except in the sovereign mercy of God.”[4]

Nettleton is noted for his use of “meetings of inquiry,” usually done in the following way:

“After a short address, suited to produce solemnity; and to make all who were present feel that they were in the presence of a holy and heart-searching God, he would offer prayer. Then he would speak to each individual present in a low voice, unless the number was so large as to render it impossible. When that was the case, he would sometimes have one or two brethren in the ministry to assist him. He would converse with each one but a short time. The particular object of this conversation is to ascertain the state of each one’s mind. He would then make a solemn address, giving them such counsel as he perceived to be suited to their condition; after which he closed the meeting with prayer. He usually advised them to retire with stillness, and to go directly to their closets.[5]

The great conflict of Nettleton’s life was with the revivalist Charles Grandison Finney, against whose denunciatory attitude and novel methods Nettleton chafed. Finney (1792-1875) was railing against time-honored doctrine and even the finest of pastors, if they took exception to him, only three years after his conversion. The veteran Nettleton did not appreciate this. His chagrin over the New Measures of Finney was expressed in a long letter to a Mr. Aikin, which was eventually published for all to see. Much of it is reproduced in this book.

The book ends with a sampling of anecdotes demonstrating his effectiveness and wisdom as a counselor, spiritual logician, and preacher.

If this book suffers from any lack, the most glaring would be an overmuch affinity for Nettleton by the author. However, in biographical literature, one learns to read around this. Though the subject of Finney was addressed, I felt that the author dealt with the issues concerning Finney only slightly, out of proportion to the actual facts. For instance, there is virtually nothing on the New Lebanon conference which had been designed to resolve conflicts between the old school and the new thinking on revivals of religion. This meeting is strategic in the history of the Second Great Awakening. In my estimation, the author did not want to reduce the aura of Nettleton’s impact for his readers, and therefore did not say much about it.

The author adds a delightful section of numerous anecdotes from Nettleton. These experiences of Nettleton are useful in understanding the man, and are, in some ways, what makes this particular work effective. I felt much closer to the man after reading them. To illustrate his emphasis on repentance and his understanding of the law, for instance, Tyler writes:

An Antinomian complained to him that ministers dwelt so much in their preaching on the demands of the law. “Believers,” said he, “are not under the law, but under grace.” “Is it not the duty of believers,” said Dr. Nettleton, “to repent?” “Certainly,” he replied. “Of what is it their duty to repent?” said Dr. Nettleton. The man saw at once the precipice before him. If he said, ‘Of sin,’ he perceived that the next question would be: what is sin but a transgression of the law? And if believers are not under obligations to obey the law, what can there be for them to repent of? [6]

I am always intrigued by the theology of revival. Consistently I see the greater, more lasting, impact of Reformed theology on revival. It underlies so much of what happened in the visitations of God in the history, especially prior to Finney. Nettleton carried this theology forward. Tyler states:

It was the full conviction of Dr Nettleton, that all genuine religious experience is based on correct views of the doctrines of grace; and, consequently that the religious experience of those whose views of these doctrines are defective, or essentially erroneous, will be, in like degree, defective or spurious. [7]

My research into the subject of revival yields the same conclusion. The vast difference in the longevity of converts, for instance, between Finney and Nettleton is alone enough to demonstrate the rationality of his argument. It has become apparent to me that otherwise good men who are wrongly informed in doctrinal areas may, unwittingly, find themselves working against the effective extension of the kingdom of God. Our doctrine definitely lays the ground for the revival we experience. Some think that revival is always unifying, and, in some way, perfect as it works itself out in the life of the larger church and the community. Nothing could be further from the truth. Our doctrine makes all the difference. What we believe when revival comes will likely be exaggerated during revival. The ramifications of wrong doctrine at the outset are staggering, and in part explain the abuses which sometimes follow (consider Davenport). This is not to say that we do not need revival, but that we also need reformation. In some senses, we need the latter first.

I was stimulated to try arranging in my future meetings for a new approach which directly relates to Nettleton’s inquiry room procedure. A deliberate meeting with those seeking answers at a special time could be an important tool, provided the apparent conviction of the people calls for it.

Finally, I have been again impressed with the humility of Nettleton. I hope that I can emulate it. Mr Cobb of Taunton, Connecticut, said:

‘He was remarkably free from the love of applause. When anyone spoke to him of the good he was doing, he would sometimes reply: “we have no time to talk about that.” And frequently I have known him to turn pale and retire from the company, and prostrate himself before God as a great and unworthy sinner.’ [8]

Notes

This review is from Reformation and Revival: A Quarterly Journal for Church Leadership, Volume 8, Number 2, Spring 1999, P.O.Box, 88216, Carol Stream, IL 60188-0216, and is reprinted by permission. The post first appeared on the Banner of Truth website on February 16, 2016.

Jim Elliff is founder and President of Christian Communicators Worldwide, and the author or co-author of a number of books, including Pursuing God: a Seeker’s Guide and Divorce and Remarriage: a Permanence View

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The Life And Labours Of Asahel Nettleton (ISBN 085151 7013) is available for £2.00 on our Special Offers page.

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When the Banner of Truth published Iain Murray’s Jonathan Edwards: A New Biography in 1987, it was the first full-length biography of Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758) to have been published for nearly fifty years. In contrast to many previous biographers who had not shared Edwards’ faith, Murray wrote with the conviction that he was not dealing merely with the historical account of an eighteenth century church leader, but that he was describing the living reality of God’s presence and activity.  While drawing on the primary sources, and always aiming for truth and accuracy, he hoped that this ‘popular’ level biography would inspire many readers to explore the writings of Jonathan Edwards for themselves. He was also humble enough to look forward to future contributions on the same subject: ‘One day, we trust, a definitive and theologically dependable Life of Edwards will yet be written.’ Murray begins by setting the scene, and then outlines Edwards’ life. Converted at the age of seventeen, and having studied at Yale College, in 1726 Edwards was called to assist his grandfather at the Congregational Church, Northampton, Massachusetts. The following year, he married Sarah Pierrepont, an exceptionally godly young woman aged seventeen.

In 1729 on his grandfather’s death, Jonathan succeeded him as sole minister. He would see remarkable spiritual awakening in 1737, and then again between 1739 and 1741. At this time revival was experienced in communities throughout New England, leading to fierce controversy. In 1750, the church at Northampton dismissed Edwards from the ministry. Eventually he and his family relocated to a remote frontier settlement called Stockbridge, where he pastored a small number of British colonists, as well as two more sizeable communities of Mohican and Mohawk Indians. In 1757, Edwards’ son-in-law (the President of Princeton College), died, and Edwards accepted an invitation to succeed him. Shortly after arriving in Princeton, he died from a small pox vaccination.

Edwards left a vast corpus of writing, both published and unpublished, and Murray includes helpful discussion of all Edwards’ major works. Each is placed within the context of Edwards’ own life and ministry, as well as within the historical context. An Appendix outlines all Edwards’ published writings.

I will mention just three of the themes of Murray’s biography which I have found helpful.

Enjoying the beauty of the Triune God

When my husband Bill and I left our church at Geneva Road, Darlington in 1988 to embark on three years of theological training in Toronto, the church gave us a goodbye gift: Murray’s recently published biography of Jonathan Edwards.

There could have been no better gift, and, in subsequent years, this biography is one I have returned to many times. For while Jonathan Edwards is remembered for his powerful intellect, the heartbeat of his life and ministry was the necessity of holy affections. ‘Knowing God’ is not just about intellectual understanding. It is about our heart.

In 1972, the first Carey Family Conference was held in Sussex, where Pastor Wayne Mack from the US preached two unforgettable messages on Hell and Heaven. He commended a new Banner of Truth booklet, on sale for just thirteen new pence (or 2 shillings and sixpence).  At a young teenager I could afford that! And so I read Heaven, a World of Love by Edwards, a powerful sermon on I Corinthians 13: 8-10. Edwards began:   

God is the fountain of love, as the sun is the fountain of light. And there­fore the glorious presence of God in heaven, fills heaven with love, as the sun, placed in the midst of the visible heavens in a clear day, fills the world with light. The apostle tells us that ‘God is love’; and therefore, seeing he is an infinite being, it follows that he is an infinite fountain of love. Seeing he is an all-sufficient being, it follows that he is a full and overflowing, and inexhaustible fountain of love. And in that he is an un­changeable and eternal being, he is an unchangeable and eternal fountain of love.

The power of this sermon lay in Edwards’ vision of the beauty of the Triune God, a vision that gripped me as a young teenager as I read his words. And Murray’s biography of Edwards wonderfully evokes the excitement the young Edwards experienced as he increasingly glimpsed the infinite beauty of God.

The popular caricature of Edwards as merely a ‘hell-fire preacher’ could not be more wrong. Edwards commitment to God was the commitment of a lover, transfixed with the beauty of the beloved. The infinite, eternal, Triune God is the source of all true beauty, and the One who himself is infinitely beautiful.

The Reality of Revival

By the spring of 1735 Jonathan Edwards reported that he was seeing thirty conversions a week. Three hundred people were converted in a six-month period. Excitement in the town was intense. The Edwards found their home crowded with people wanting spiritual advice.  Northampton was not the only town affected: similar scenes were taking place in towns throughout New England.

The revival caused bitter division among the ministers of New England. Around a third of them dismissed it as merely human emotion and mass hysteria. Jonathan Edwards was realistic enough to understand this reaction. He agreed that a dramatic ‘conversion experience’ meant precisely nothing unless it was followed by a lifetime of obedience. It could be worse than useless, because the excitement of the ‘experience’ could lead individuals to believe that they were infallible. ‘Revival’ could overflow into fanaticism. Heightened excitement could lead people into actions that were misguided, while they claimed it was the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Uneducated people were thrilled by the notion that God would speak directly to them, and make claims that were ineffably silly. Newly converted individuals denounced mature leaders as lacking the Spirit. Yet the presence of the false did not negate the presence of the true.

To defend the reality of true revival, Jonathan Edwards wrote an analysis entitled the Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God. He also set out a description of the revival of religion at Northampton in 1735 in the Narrative of Surprising Conversions, as well as a detailed description of the revival of 1740-1742 which was originally set out in a letter to a fellow minister in Boston.

When Edwards set out to analyse the unusual scenes that had resulted from this phenomenon called ‘revival’ he had a case study beside him. His own wife had an extraordinary experience. Indeed, when he returned from a preaching engagement early in 1742, the whole town was wondering whether she would even survive until his return. She had been prostrated physically with religious ecstasy, she had been so taken up with a sensation of the love of God that she had leaped for joy, she had sometimes been unable to stop talking, and at other times unable to speak.

Edwards did not rush to conclusions. He was willing to face the possibility that this could be due to nervous instability. He asked Sarah to sit down and describe every detail. She gave him a precise account of her spiritual experience which had lasted for seventeen days from January 19^th to February 4^th 1742. It was, concluded her husband, the most intense, pure, unmixed and well-regulated of any he had seen. He went on to explain that the long term effect in Sarah’s life was remarkable. She was now entirely resigned to God. She had given over to God the choice of life or death, for herself and her loved ones.  She let God choose comfort or pain. Jonathan Edwards, of all people, would know if this was just a passing phase. It was not. He could testify to her continual peace, cheerfulness and joy in the coming months and years

The reality of Sarah’s ‘resignation of all to God’ would be tested all too soon. While carried away with a sense of the love of God, she had visualised some ‘worst-case scenarios’.  What if the townsfolk turned on her and she was thrown out into the wilderness in the midst of winter? What if her husband turned against her? What if she had to die for Christ?  She felt that:

The whole world, with all its enjoyments and all its troubles seemed to be nothing: My God was my all, my only portion.  No possible suffering seemed to be worth regarding: all persecutions and torments a mere nothing

Murray’s biography vividly describes the challenges presented to the Edwards family in the years following Jonathan Edwards’ dismissal from the church in Northampton. They had to face war, slander, intrigue, bereavement, poverty, and a move to an isolated and dangerous frontier settlement. Their serenity and poise in the face of trials demonstrated that the powerful sense of God’s presence during revival had not been mere passing emotion.

During the past nearly twenty years, I have often drawn encouragement from the example of Jonathan and Sarah Edwards during these difficult times. They proved that when every earthly prop was removed, nothing could separate them from the love of God (Romans 8:39).

The Call for Prayer for Revival

In 1747, Edwards wrote an appeal for concerted prayer for God to bring blessing to the nations by means of revivals, entitled:

An Humble Attempt to Promote Explicit Agreement and Visible Union of God’s People in Extraordinary Prayer for the Revival of Religion and the Advancement of Christ’s Kingdom on Earth, Pursuant to Scripture Promises and Prophecies concerning the Last Time.

Edwards was responding to the call issued by a number of Scottish ministers for a concerted effort among the churches to pray together for revival. He wished to support this effort with a work which laid out Scriptural encouragements, as well as answers to  objections. He began with an exposition of Zechariah 8:20-23, which depicts the gathering of people from many nations gathering for prayer:

And the inhabitants of one city shall go to another, saying, ‘Let us go speedily to pray before the LORD, and to seek the LORD of hosts: I will go also. Yea, many people and strong nations shall come to see the LORD of hosts in Jerusalem and to pray before the LORD.

Edwards anticipated that if God poured out a spirit of prayer, this would in turn be used in the fulfilment of his purposes. The Humble Attempt needs to be read alongside The History of Redemption, Edwards’ survey of God’s purpose for the history of the world. From passages such as Psalm 110 he argued:

It is natural and reasonable to suppose, that the whole world should finally be given to Christ as one whose right it is to reign . . . Such being the state of things in this future promised glorious day of the church’s prosperity, surely it is worth praying for.

The Northamptonshire Association of Baptists in England responded to this call with a monthly prayer meeting for revival, and then in 1795 the directors of the newly formed London Missionary Society urged that the first Monday of every month be set aside for concerted prayer for world mission. Prayer meetings multiplied, and many believe that prayers were answered in the Second Evangelical Revival (sometimes referred to in Britain as ‘the Forgotten Revival’) as well as in the great nineteenth century Protestant missionary movement. While the spread of the gospel throughout the world might have seemed an impossible dream in Edwards’ own day, many would regard the prayers stirred up by his appeal as being one factor in the tremendous expansion of the church into every continent.

Now nearly twenty years old, Iain Murray’s biography of Edwards can no longer be described as ‘a new biography’. But it still speaks powerfully into our contemporary situation. In the light of the claims of the charismatic movement, Edwards’ analysis of what is genuine and what is counterfeit in spiritual awakening is still of vital importance. The overwhelmingly subjective focus of contemporary evangelicalism means that Edwards’ insistence on God-centred religion is more timely than ever.

And I will no doubt be returning to this book again, as I have so often in the past, when I want to be pointed afresh to the beauty of the Triune God, when I need to be reminded of the truth that nothing can separate us from the love of God, and when I need to be revived in my own prayers for God’s Kingdom to come and his will to be done throughout the whole earth.

This post is an excerpt from You Must Read: Books That Have Shaped Our Lives. Many of us want to ask, ‘Can somebody please tell me what books I should read?’ You Must Read provides some answers from the pens of a number of well-known Christian leaders, including Joel R. Beeke, Alistair Begg, Jerry Bridges, Mark Dever, J. Ligon Duncan, R. Albert Mohler, Jr., John MacArthur, Stuart Olyott, R. C. Sproul , Derek W. H. Thomas, Geoffrey Thomas, and many others.

Dr. Sharon James is a Social Policy Analyst with the Christian Institute. She has degrees in history (Cambridge), theology (Toronto Baptist Seminary), and a doctorate (University of Wales). She is the author of a number of books, including Gender Ideology: What Do Christians Need to Know? (CFP, 2019) and How Christianity Transformed the World (CFP, 2020), as well as Elizabeth Prentiss: More Love to Thee, published by the Banner. 

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The Lord Jesus once said, ‘every scribe instructed concerning the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who brings out of his treasure things new and old’ (Matt. 13:52). The treasures from ‘the friends of Old Princeton’ contained in this short collection of lectures display afresh the timeless truths related to — and desperately needed in — the Christian ministry. While the biographical sketches at the conclusion of the book are worth the purchase price alone, there is great usefulness in the entire volume.

For a man wrestling with a call to ministry, the opening address from William Plumer serves as an exceedingly helpful catalog of considerations. In this writer’s mind, J. W. Alexander‘s profound, eleven-part explication of the excellencies of Christ’s character stands above all the entries. Having read that chapter, one will learn more experientially why the hearts of the saints on the road to Emmaus burned so hotly (Luke 24:32).

Archibald Alexander and Charles Hodge both outline the various and necessary virtues of ministers. These chapters will prove refreshing, convicting, or both, either for the young minister for one well advanced in years and experience. In our age of doctrinal decline and compromise, both Archibald Alexander and Samuel Miller speak with prophetic relevance in their stirring calls to fidelity to the Holy Scriptures and sound doctrine.

Ashbel Green reminds the reader that the Lord of grace still uses the foolish message of the cross to save the lost and edify the saints. With great eloquence, he explains that to preach Christ crucified is not to restrict proclamation to a naked or narrow fact of history, but rather to announce the whole counsel of God as it relates to and terminates upon the person and work of Jesus. Green said, ‘the doctrine of Christ crucified, was the sun of the apostle’s theological system, which imparted lustre to every other truth’ (p. 187). The final address by Nicholas Murray is a rousing and needful call to piety among those given the privilege of serving as ministers in Christ’s church.

The Pastor  is not merely ‘a word spoken in due season’ (Prov. 15:23), but a compendium of words that honor the King and Head of the church and call his ministers to steadfastness and holiness in their eternally significant work. While especially poignant for pastors, this volume will be of great help to all Christians.

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In this pamphlet, OPC pastor Jeremiah Montgomery addresses the often vexing issue of assurance of salvation. Having walked the ‘valley of the shadow of doubt’ for more than twenty-five years, his purpose is to share the ‘light of dawn’ (Prov. 4:18).

Citing WCF 18.1-4, Montgomery affirms that while assurance is not of the essence of faith, it is still possible to attain it through the ordinary means of grace. Those who truly believe in the Lord, sincerely love him, and who seek to walk in good conscience (that is, exhibit faith, love, and life) can have certainty they are in the state of grace. This is reinforced by the promises of salvation, inward evidences of grace, and the testimony of the Spirit that we are God’s children. Since the ground of our assurance is both theological and experiential, Montgomery organizes his discussion around five theological truths and then three practical steps.

The five theological truths are:

1. The Faithfulness of God

The suspicion that God cannot be trusted lies at the root of all human problems. However, God is not a tyrant who must be appeased in order for him to love us. All God is, says, and does can be trusted now and forever.

2. The Triumph of Jesus

Jesus’s obedience has two sides: In his active obedience he completely obeyed God’s law. In his passive obedience he endured the full penalty for our sin. Consequently, our sins are placed on him, and his righteousness is placed on us. Understanding this dual obedience undergirds assurance. ‘The gospel is not just that Jesus paid for me, but that he also obeyed for me’ (p.14).

3. The Promise of Life

While the gospel does not promise universal salvation, it is a universal promise to all. Even when refused, the gift is real. The free offer of the gospel, by its very nature, is promise to me.

4. Believing God

To believe a promise is to take hold of the person who made it. Though we cannot presently take hold of Christ’s physical person, we can take hold of his word of promise. ‘Christian faith receives Christ as God’s gift to me‘ (p.20). This gives us access not only  to his salvation, but his smile.

5. Our Strong Branch

Faith is not a work, and believing is no achieving. Faith is not my persuading Jesus to keep his promises. ‘Faith is believing Jesus will keep his promises to me’ (p.22). Faith finds all its hope in its object. It is not how well you believe but whom you trust that saves.

The three practical steps are:

1. Proving Faith Lives: Since God commands us to believe right now, the first practical step is to prove faith’s reality by its exercise. Instead of endlessly examining our faith, we should practice it. Begin with prayer, whose sincere exercise demonstrates the presence of true faith.

2. Proving Your Heart: Romans 8:10 tells us that though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. This means that if we truly desire God, we are clearly not hostile to God and Christ is in us. We are no longer natural but supernatural. The second step to overcoming doubt is to prove our sincerity by examining our desires.

3. Proving the Reality by the Remedy: Since Christ died to rescue us even from unbelief we should ‘use doubt . . . to destroy doubt’ (p.30). We are not to obsess about doubt or fear, we are to confess it. This draws us to Christ. To call on Jesus is to believe in him is to come to him, and to come to him is to belong to him forever.

In his conclusion, ‘In the Hands of Jesus,’ Montgomery admits that despite these steps doubt may persist, and he directs us to Jesus. His active obedience and perfect faith are imputed to us. Therefore, just as Jesus commended his spirit into the hands of the Father, so also, we can commend our spirit and imperfect faith into the hands of Jesus. ‘With these words, I take his promises as my resting place, put my heart in his hands, and walk toward the dawn of spiritual certainty’ (p.35).

This brief overview does not do justice to this thoughtful and comforting booklet. It is an excellent contribution to those who lack assurance of faith. Its concise treatment of the subject, coupled with its modest price, make it a useful and affordable resource for any individual, library, or church book table.

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Flavel’s work is based on Psalm 57:2: ‘I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfils his purpose for me,’ and following an introduction we have three sections to the book; Part one, the evidence of providence; Part 2, meditation on the providence of God; and Part 3, application of the doctrine of providence.

Reading any author, it can be helpful to know the circumstances in which they wrote and the experiences that shaped their lives. As you read Flavel on the providence of God, remember that this is a man who lived through some of the most tumultuous times of English history. He saw the English civil wars, a king executed, and a monarchy restored. He was ejected from his church in 1662 and then further removed from his people by the Five Mile Act in 1665, subjected to intolerance and persecution for his non-conformity. This is a man who had the ignominy of a crowd of the townspeople of Dartmouth carrying his effigy through the streets to a bonfire to be burned. But Flavel also lived to see the Glorious Revolution with a restoration of non-conformist freedoms, and in the sermon series that followed his new-found freedom (published as England’s Duty) it was observed that ‘there was a remarkable pouring out of the Spirit when these sermons were delivered, a great number of souls having been brought home to Christ.’ In his personal life Flavel was well acquainted with grief, losing infant children and three wives (his fourth wife outlived him). So, when in the introduction to his work on providence he writes ‘how cheering, supporting and encouraging must consideration of these things be in a day of distress and trouble!’ we know that this is a book written not out of theoretical considerations, but out of real-life experience.

I thought that I knew a thing or two about God’s providence, about what the Bible teaches and how God works in our lives, but when I first read Flavel’s work I came to realize that I actually knew so little. There were so many things in my own life I had not really thought about and had taken for granted. I had never stopped to give thanks to God for the way in which he had ordered the different aspects of my life but reading Flavel changed that.

I am forever grateful that I was born to Christian parents, and Flavel reminds us that having that privilege is no accident but a providence of God: ‘let me beg you that you will take special notice of this providence which so graciously wrought for you; and that your hearts may be more thoroughly warmed in the sense of it’ he writes.

But for those who haven’t had that privilege he has words of advice too; ‘admire the grace of God in plucking you out’ and ‘learn from hence, if God give you a posterity of your own, to be so much the more strict and careful of family duties.’

Flavel covers most of life as he goes on to deal with conversion, employment, family affairs, our preservation from evil, and the ongoing process of sanctification. In all these areas of life, he shows how the way God works is itself the evidence of providence.

Part two of the book deals with meditating on providence. He lays out the duty for us to do this, followed by two practical chapters on how to meditate and the benefits that it brings to the Christian. There is valuable advice here and antidotes to what we might call mystical ‘Christianity’— Flavel writes ‘In all your observations of providence have special respect to that word of God which is fulfilled and made good to you by them. This is a clear truth that all providences have relation to the written word.’ The providence of God may ‘open doors’ in our lives that lead to good wholesome activities but also, the providence of God may place things in our paths that are tests for us; we need to remember to test all things against the written word, the Scriptures.

By the time we get to the last section, Flavel is in his element; he was a preacher and writer who always pressed home the applications of the Scripture teachings to his listeners or readers, and The Mystery of Providence is no exception. The last chapter is just two-and-a-half pages long and is very precious. He reinforces the advantages of recording our experiences of God’s providences in our lives and it has him exclaiming ‘O that Christians everywhere would set themselves to such work!’

Reading Flavel’s The Mystery of Providence gave me a whole new perspective on life, and I would encourage anyone to pick it up and read it—it may just change your life too!

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I can still remember as a teenager pulling my father’s copy of the 1962 Banner edition of Sermons of the Great Ejection off one of his study shelves and turning to Edmund Calamy’s sermon, ‘Trembling for the Ark of God.’ That sermon impacted me profoundly. But, before turning to the detail of this and other sermons, it will be helpful to explain the historical origin of the book.

These sermons were all preached in 1662, the year when 2,000 or so ministers were expelled from ministry in the Church of England by the Act of Uniformity, which required unswerving commitment to the Book of Common Prayer, episcopal ordination and rejection of the Solemn League and Covenant. This Act was designed to drive Puritan preachers from the national church, and achieved this aim on Black Bartholomew’s Day 1662. In the words of J. C. Ryle this represented ‘an injury to the cause of true religion in England which will probably never be repaired.’

However, at least one good came from the tragedy of the Great Ejection—the farewell sermons of Puritan preachers to their congregations. And this Puritan Paperback gives a selection of the best of these sermons, the parting pastoral counsel of some of the finest preachers and theologians England ever produced. After a helpful foreword from Iain Murray, each of the sermons is introduced with a brief biography of the preacher, some of whom will be well known to Banner readers (Thomas Brooks, Thomas Watson, Edmund Calamy) and others relatively unknow (John Collins, Thomas Lye, John Oldfield, John Whitlock). Some prayers have also been included, and the volumes concludes with the 1772 Nonconformist’s Catechism.

To give a flavour of the sermons, consider the first sermon in the volume, Edmund Calamy preaching on Eli trembling for the ark of God (1 Sam. 4:13). In many ways this is a model Puritan sermon. The context for the text is briefly expounded. A biblical theology of the ark and what it represents (fundamentally a visible sign of God’s gracious presence with his people) and what it typifies (Jesus Christ, the Church, and the ordinances of the church) is outlined. From this, Calamy proceeds to draw rich and varied spiritual lessons from the text. For example, believers are troubled when the ark (Christ, his church, the gospel) is in danger of being lost because 1) they love the ark; 2) they have a personal interest in the ark; 3) the damage that follows the ark being lost; 4) if the ark is lost it is because of our sin. This last point is so vital and so convicting. The ark is in danger, not first because of other’s sins, but because of our sins (e.g. Dan. 9:5-6): ‘Oh, beloved, it is for your sin and my sin that the ark of God is in danger.’

There is realism and a hope in Calamy’s application. He is well aware that ‘England has no letters patent of the gospel; the gospel is removable.’ Therefore, he wanted God’s people to have ‘an aching heart for the ark of God that was in danger.’ But he also wanted God’s people to have hope. As long as there was ‘an abundance of praying people’ Calamy argued the ark was safe, for ‘God will never forsake a praying people.’ There is clearly much more in Calamy’s sermon, all of it was needed in 1662, and all of it is needed today. So, take up this volume and read it.

Other sermons are of a uniformly high standard. Thomas Brooks’ ‘Pastor’s Legacies’ are wonderful; John Collins on ‘Contending for the faith’ is a much-needed word for today; Thomas Lyle beautiful covers the love of a pastor for his people and the congregation’s duty in return to ‘stand fast in the Lord’ (Phil. 4:1); Thomas Watson is as helpful as ever on the difference between the righteous and the wicked (Isa. 3:10-11) and how God’s promises stir up a pastor’s beloved people to holiness (2 Cor. 7:1); John Oldfield outlines how to respond to the sufferings of the godly (Psa. 69:6) and the final sermon of John Whitlock is a is a profound challenge to ‘remember, hold fast and repent’ (Rev. 3:3).

These are not antiquarian sermons. They breathe the spirit of the living word of God and will repay reading today, when, to return to Calamy’s sermon, there is as much need to tremble for the ark of God as there was in 1662.

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Heaven on earth! Who would refuse that? But what is it, and where do we find it?

According to Thomas Brooks (1608–80), to be in a state of grace ‘will yield a man a heaven hereafter, but the seeing of himself in this state will yield him both a heaven here and a heaven hereafter.’ In other words, the Christian who knows himself to be a Christian enjoys a real taste of heaven upon earth. And so Brooks offers ‘A Serious Discourse touching a well-grounded Assurance of Men’s Everlasting Happiness and Blessedness,’ in which he will discover ‘the Nature of Assurance, the possibility of Attaining it, the Causes, Springs, and Degrees of it; with the Resolution of severall weighty Questions.’

There are at least three reasons why this is such a precious volume. The first is that it is eminently pastoral. Brooks says too many believers lack a well-grounded assurance, and are left living ‘between fears and hopes, and hanging, as it were, between heaven and hell.’ He wants to instruct the ignorant, correct the foolish, comfort the troubled, and establish the true. He works through some basic biblical and experiential realities to do with assurance, talks about hindrances to assurance, encourages God’s people to pursue assurance, describes and applies how to obtain a well-grounded assurance, distinguishes between true and counterfeit assurance, between sound assurance and presumption, and answers some specific questions about assurance. It is the work of a master physician of the soul.

Beyond that, this volume is strikingly positive. It gives the lie to the caricature of a gloomy soul in morbid introspection, trying to persuade oneself that one might not actually be going to hell. For Brooks, ‘it is the very drift and design of the whole Scripture, to bring souls first to an acquaintance with Christ, and then to an acceptance of Christ, and then to build them up in a sweet assurance of their actual interest in Christ.’ He is not going to offer false assurance, and he might need to dismantle failing assurance to rebuild it on a firmer foundation. Nevertheless, he genuinely anticipates that God’s true people could and should arrive at a joyfully confident and enduringly stable sense of their being accepted with God in Christ. There is genuine refreshment in Brooks, sweet water for thirsty souls.

Further still, Brooks is beautifully precise. Here is clarity without coldness, care in making and applying distinctions, a recognition of degrees of assurance and maturity, an appreciation of the spiritual dynamics that may be at play in the life of any believer, a specific application of particular truths to needy souls at distinct points. Brooks, for all the obvious central thrust of his work, does not simply paint in broad strokes. He knows how to do the fine detail work. This is especially evident in the practical sections, dealing with the hindrances to assurance, or the encouragements towards assurance, or the evidences of salvation which help to provide assurance.

Finally, and generally, Brooks is manifestly Christian in his approach to this topic. He does not define and consider assurance in the abstract, but in its connection to the triune God. It is sadly possible, at least in theory, to separate the question of a Christian’s assurance from the Christ in whom the Christian believes. Brooks does not make this mistake. It is the Father’s delight to give assurance to his children, and he has provided means for it; faith in and hope because of Jesus Christ are springs of assurance, together with love for him and his people; the Holy Spirit exhorts and enables the saints to pursue this assurance. Assurance is not a thing divorced from Christ, a theory which bears no relation to the living God. It is, rather, a glistening fruit that hangs on the tree of lively faith, watered by springs of grace. Brooks keeps bringing us back to God in Christ, and the work of the Spirit in the hearts of the saints.

I would urge you to read this book, not just to get assurance, not even simply to strengthen and to enjoy assurance, but to enter more deeply into the joys of God’s salvation in Christ. Personally, it has proved a real blessing. Pastorally, it has been a genuine help. ‘To have grace, and to be sure that we have grace, is glory upon the throne, it is heaven on this side heaven.’ And who would not relish that?

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First published in 1649, William Bridge’s thirteen sermons on Psalm 42:11, entitled A Lifting Up for the Downcast, are a perfect example of Puritan preaching—expository, doctrinal, experiential, and practical. The text—‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God’—is ‘opened up,’ and out of it Bridge draws his ‘doctrine’ or main points of teaching:

‘First, That there is an inward peace and quietude of soul, which the saints and people of God ordinarily are endued with. This is implied.
Secondly, It is possible that this peace may be interrupted, and God’s people may be much discouraged, cast down and disquieted.
Thirdly, That the saints and people of God have no reason for their discouragements whatever their condition may be.’

Bridge’s doctrine is drawn out of the verse in his first three sermons or chapters of the book. But it would be wrong to think that this skilful pastor presents us with three unrelenting doctrinal essays. He frequently intersperses his teaching with objections and questions an imaginary reader or listener might raise against the points being made. And so throughout the first three foundational chapters (and, indeed, the rest of the book) he patiently answers objections and clears the way for the practical application of the truths expounded.

The third point being established—‘that the people of God have no reason for their discouragements whatever their condition may be’—he goes on to demonstrate and prove what at first sight might seem like such a sweeping and startling statement, by applying the truth to eight areas of Christian experience. From the word of God he provides a ‘lifting up’ for those suffering from great sins, weak grace, miscarriage of duties, lack of assurance, temptation, desertion, affliction, unserviceableness, and discouragements caused by the condition itself.

In the thirteenth and final sermon Bridge ties his whole treatise together by showing to sinner and saint alike that the only and effective ‘cure of discouragements’ is ‘by faith in Jesus Christ.’

There are a couple of things that left an impression on me as I recently reread Bridge’s classic work. The first is the author’s amazing knowledge and grasp of Scripture. Of course, he was not alone among the Puritans in this regard. They were all ‘men of the Book’ who demonstrated an intimate familiarity with all parts of Scripture. This is particularly noticeable in the way Bridge uses an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of the Bible to illustrate his teaching. Little known and almost incidental details are pulled out of Scripture (the Old Testament in particular) to perfectly illustrate a point. Take for example an illustration in chapter five where he argues that the Christian who is weak in grace ‘is more easily quenched in regard of his comforts than the strong Christian is. A strong Christian will use that for his edification which seems to be against him; but the weak Christian will use that against himself which is in truth for him.’ He then picks two examples from Scripture: the Syro-Phoenician woman who encountered Jesus’ stern words with faith (Matt. 15:27) and Manoah who said to his wife after he had seen the angel of the Lord: ‘We shall surely die, because we have seen God’ (Judg. 13:22). Bridge concludes: ‘Thus he used that against himself which was intended for his good, as his wife truly interpreted the thing, verse 23: why so, but because he was weak in faith.’

Secondly, Bridge’s work is an ‘argument’—a well-reasoned treatment of a not uncommon spiritual problem which affects believers in every generation. The verse on which the treatise is based is an argument in itself—David is reasoning with himself, ‘Why art thou downcast, O my soul?’ etc. Bridge takes up the argument and uses it as a method to persuade his readers of the great point of his treatise, ‘that the saints and people of God have no reason for their discouragements whatever their condition may be.’ The key word here is ‘reason’. He is not saying that a believer cannot have their ‘peace interrupted,’ or that God’s people will never be ‘much discouraged, cast down and disquieted.’ Far from it!—as he demonstrates in his second sermon. But here is the great thing: when the problem is analysed in the light of Scripture, when the truths of the gospel are opened and applied, when we see the full provision that God the Father has made for us sinners in the gospel of his Son Jesus Christ, then, with William Bridge, we shall see that there is ‘no reason’ for our discouragement.

Hugh Martin (1822-85) combined a brilliant analytical and mathematical mind with a child-like heart which rested in Christ and his atoning work, as revealed in the Scriptures. Born and brought up in Aberdeen, he gained the top prizes in mathematics at the University there, before going on to study for the ministry. He cast in his lot with those who left the Established Church at the Disruption and served at Panbride (Carnoustie) and Free Greyfriars, Edinburgh, until illness forced his retirement from the ministry at just 42.

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However, while Bunyan was certainly right to stress the need for the Spirit to generate genuine prayer, even extemporaneous prayer has a way of becoming rote. Who among us has not had the experience, sometimes for a number of days, or even longer, of stale, lifeless prayer that repeatedly expresses itself in the same way and manner? Although we as Baptists do not have a liturgical tradition, our individual prayer-lives all too frequently do, for often they fall into the same patterns of expression and petition, patterns that easily can become ruts.

It is a times like these that we could use some outside help, a boost to get moving again. Arthur Bennett’s The Valley of Vision is ideal in this regard.  In print since 1975, it was reprinted in the early 2000s, this time in a handsome cabra bonded leather edition that is the perfect size for carrying in one’s jacket pocket. Subtitled A Collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions, it contains prayers from the works of fourteen Puritan and Evangelical authors, including three Baptists: the Welsh evangelist Christmas Evans (1766-1838), the great Victorian preacher Charles Haddon Spurgeon (1834-1892), and, surprise of surprises, Bunyan!

The word ‘Puritan’ in the subtitle is clearly not meant to be taken in a strictly chronological sense, for Puritanism was historically a phenomenon of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.  Rather, Bennett employs this term to refer to a form of spirituality that dominated English speaking Christianity from the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries, in which there was ‘the same spiritual language. . . the same code of values, . . .the same attitude towards the Christian religion . . .the same God-centred aspirations’ (Preface, page ix).

Bennett emphasizes that the book is not intended ‘to be read as a prayer manual.’ The prayers are best used as springboards for a believer’s ‘communion with a transcendent and immanent God who on the ground of his nature and attributes calls forth all the powers of the redeemed soul in acts of total adoration and dedication’ (Preface, page xi). The division of the prayers into a number of categories, such as ‘Redemption and Reconciliation,’ ‘Holy Aspirations,’ ‘Service and Ministry,’ and the fact that each prayer is given a title, greatly facilitates the use of the prayers. Moreover, Bennett has structured the prayers in such a way that they easily become the springboard for deeper reflection and worship that he desires them to be. As Dallas Theological Seminary historian John Hannah has commented about the book: ‘A wonderful aid in expressing our personal thoughts to God, a spiritual classic, both sober and inspiring.’ It is little wonder that this book has been the Banner of Truth’s best-selling volume in North America.

This article was first published in the March 2003 edition of the Gospel Witness magazine.

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Rather than reprinting a complete book Lewis Allen has selected fourteen sermons from Flavel’s writings, and arranged them under four major headings: 1) Salvation in Jesus Christ, 2) Trusting in and belonging to Christ, 3) Living the Christian life, and, 4) The Church. In true Puritan fashion in each sermon after a brief explication of the text Flavel proceeds to state the leading doctrine or doctrines deduced from it, followed by deep practical application. The object is always to interest, edify, challenge and above all spiritually benefit the hearer as they are led through the essentials of saving faith.

In Part 1 we are introduced to great truths: Love divine, Jesus the God-man, he came to go to the cross, and, Jesus reigns! Part 2 discusses: The riches of God in Christ, united with Jesus, salvation flows from the whole Trinity, and true (spiritual) freedom. Part 3 moves on to personal and practical implications of the faith: How to guard your heart, how to trust in God in tough times, how to be encouraged (God is still at work!) and, how to discern God’s working in your own life. Part 4 passes from the people to the pastors with sound advice on: Living in gospel unity, and a discussion of ‘an authentic gospel ministry’.

Flavel’s writings shine with memorable gems: ‘a compassionate spirit towards those who labour under burdens of sin or affliction is Christ-like and truly excellent: this was the Spirit of Christ’ (p.47) ‘There is an exact and dear union between Christ and all true believers’ (p.96) ‘The opening of the heart to receive Christ, by faith, is the great design and aim of the gospel’ (p.117) and much more.

This review first appeared in the December 2017  edition of the British Church Newspaper.

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Calvin’s sermons show the reformer’s high view of Christian ministry. Pastors must be lawfully called and must be faithful in their duty of teaching God’s truth. Calvin is also realistic about the difficulties faced by pastors and preachers. Ministry is a battlefield, and the weapons needed for victory faith (i.e. true doctrine) and a clear conscience (i.e. faithful living). For Calvin, being a pastor is a high calling, requiring great gifts and involving much hard work and facing many difficulties.

Calvin attributes false teaching to pride and speculation, two characteristics of so much modern scholarship (so-called). The problem is that humans think they know better than God or can work out things that God has not chosen to reveal. As he says, ‘Arrogance is the mother of all heresies’. Likewise, it is pride rather than humility that causes humans to devise devotional practices not commanded in the Bible, and Calvin is thinking of things such as abstaining from eating meat on Fridays or forbidding clergy to marry.

Calvin himself is no speculative theologian and warns his hearers that ‘by wanting to know everything about God, we enter into a measureless abyss’. Christ reveals all we need to know and through him we know God personally. This corrects the stereotype of Calvin as a theological system-builder. At all times, he is simply seeking to explain and apply the plain teachings of Scripture. It is this that makes his teaching of enduring value to the church.

Rather than discarding the Old Testament law, Calvin finds the Gospel proclaimed in its pages (e.g. the sacrificial system of Israel), and he declares, ‘The Gospel does not teach anything which is contrary to the law’. Calvin’s preaching is at times quite feisty, such that it is plain that at the time he had many opponents to his ministry among powerful Genevan families and in the City Council.

Calvin shows that the example of Paul (a former persecutor of Christians) is an encouragement for us to be honest about our faults and not to think that we are better than our neighbours. He insists that the roles of rulers and magistrates are proper Christian callings, rejecting the hyper-spiritual anarchy of the Anabaptists and radicals of his day. Calvin explains that God’s desire that all be saved (and our obligations to tell all) is not inconsistent with the doctrine of election. Paul’s call that we pray for all people leads Calvin to urge mission to the whole world.

In terms of the qualifications of those in ministry positions, Calvin understands ‘a husband of one wife’ to ban polygamy, and ministers must be exemplary and practise what they preach to others. Calvin stresses that Paul’s instructions to pastors to apply to all believers, for pastors are setting an example to all. In preaching on 1 Timothy 3:16, Calvin provides a masterful explanation of the two natures of Christ, God and man, showing the necessity of both for the work of salvation. His doctrine of the Lord’s Supper is summed up in these words, ‘we rise to Heaven by faith to be united without Lord Jesus Christ’. This explains how he can have fellowship with Christ when Christ is in Heaven.

These sermons by Calvin are uniformly insightful and helpful, full of Scriptural truth and thoughtful practical application. They show what preaching at its best has always been: grounded on the Word of God, full of compelling logic, pastorally sensitive, fearless, and always aiming to honour God in Christ.

This review first appeared in the June 2018 edition of the New Life magazine. A further volume of Calvin’s Sermons on 2 Timothy is forthcoming.

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The book’s content is described in the typically wordy original Puritan title: ‘Grace abounding to the chief of sinners, or, a brief and faithful relation of the exceeding mercy of God in Christ to his poor servant John Bunyan, wherein is particularly shewed the manner of his conversion , his fight and trouble for sin, his dreadful temptations, also how he despaired of God’s mercy, and how the Lord at length through Christ did deliver him from all the guilt and terror that lay upon him, whereunto is added a brief relation of his call to the work of the ministry and of his temptations therein, and also what he met with in prison. All of which was written by his own hand, and now published for the support of the weak and tempted people of God.’ And there you have the whole book in summary!

Bunyan graphically and pathetically describes his hard early life, his wild and careless youth, his first marriage to a Christian girl (whose main dowry was two Puritan books that were instrumental awakening his conscience), and then his long-protracted struggle with grace, conviction of sin, seeking, backsliding, temptations, despair and rejection of God, and renewed conviction: a painful process that for him extended over some years, narrated in detail over ninety pages of the book. At last Bunyan found peace and assurance of acceptance and salvation (and the reader breathes a sigh of relief!) Bunyan goes on to relate his call to the ministry, and growing maturity within it, from ‘crying out against sin’ to ‘holding forth Christ and all his benefits’, that is tempering the alarming with the comfort and assuring messages of the gospel. Says Bunyan, at that stage he was arrested (1660) and thrown into prison, where the record was penned.

This edition adds ‘a relation of Bunyan’s imprisonment’ by Bunyan himself, and, an anonymous ‘continuation of Mr. Bunyan’s life’.

The content of the book is the very opposite of modern ‘easy believism’. The Puritans over-exaggerated the law’s preparatory role leading to Christ, but here is something that every Christian can relate to.

The little book is beautifully produced: a smart hardback with gilt lettering, coloured endpapers and head and footbands. This book will be treasured by its owners – and would make an ideal and welcome gift.

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Bunyan served as a Parliamentarian soldier, was much influenced by his godly wife, came to respect the Fifth Monarchists, embraced the doctrines of grace, was drawn to Millenarianism, proved to be Baptist by conviction, & suffered at the hands of the Presbyterians! He spent more than one period in prison, for his integrity and genuine Christian convictions, as well as for breaking Conventicle rules, on nonconformist assembling, preaching, and praying.

Fear of God is a rare volume of considerable spiritual value. One has only to contrast the difference expressed by fear in a couple of Bible verses to see the need for a true appreciation. For the Christian this is complex. How, for example, do we marry the removal of fear by the Spirit of adoption, to the fear of God as a lifelong requirement? Referring to those born again of the Holy Spirit, Romans 8:15 declares, ‘for ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba, Father’. Yet, inspired scripture also exhorts, ‘Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man’ (Ecclesiastes 12:13).Is there a conflict? Is it down to simple biblical hermeneutics, or more serious, could there be real conflict within scripture itself? Open up any concordance, find the word ‘Fear’, see the almost incalculable number of references, and ponder, ‘Where do we go from here?’

Michael Reeves, (Foreword), believes it can be narrowed down to two basic types of fear of God: ‘people can have an ungodly fear of God or a godly fear of God. Ungodly fear is the fear of the rebel, the fear shown by Adam. . .in absolute contrast, the Spirit of God works in the believers a godly fear that draws them in wonder to God.’ Reeves desires we shall be rescued from an ungodly fear and be brought to rejoice and tremble at the God Jacob could call, simply, ‘The Fear’ (Gen. 31:42,53). Bunyan is certainly thorough. Basically there are six meaty chapters, The Object of our Fear, The Rule and Director of our Fear, Different Sorts of Fear, The Grace of Fear, The Privileges of Fear, and The Practice of Godly Fear.

Bunyan is typically Puritan. He chooses a theme, divides and subdivides, in a meticulous manner, yet, remarkably, he is never heavy or uninspiring. Like the proverbial cow, not only taking in the grass, but chewing the cud, to extract maximum benefit, he seems, admirably, to achieve his aim. The object of fear comes from God himself. His presence is dreadful, and why? Because of his greatness and majesty. His brilliant light, and his great revelation of love. These inspire our fear. In chapter two, Bunyan deals with the Ruler and Director of fear. It is the Word of God. He takes us to Psalm 19: “The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever.’ Again, ‘The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple: the statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart: the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes: the fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever The written Word is therefore the object of a Christian’s fear.’

Every page of Bunyan throbs with life, light, and learning. One page would be sufficient for daily meditation. By the time he reaches the privileges of believers, and their filial fear of God (chapter five), he lists thirteen further reasons, for believers to revel in a righteous fear. Similarly, with the practical application of fear, do we really reverence God as we should? Is our respect for him absolute? Does it show in our prayer and fellowship with God? Every unconverted person, by nature, is bereft of fear and robbed of this precious privilege. This is truly a self-inflicted wound, born of unbelief and rebellion. Yet we are not to be high-minded but to fear our God, with love and honour (Rom. 11:20). Fear is, surely, hindered by covetousness, a major fault of our society (Ez. 33:31, Ephesians 5:5, Ps. 10:3). Twelve further biblical arguments, with cited scriptures and stirring devotion is presented.

Occasionally, Bunyan changes his style of approach — shorter more pithy sentences, less subdivisions, use of catechetical method, less doctrine — more application, or special treatment for those Himalayan verses from God’s Book. The end result is a thoroughness which leaves you despising the contemporary church, its shallowness and banality, and longing for a deeper, closer, more consistent walk, with the Lord. This little book is a treasure-trove in itself, waiting to be read, and re-read.

The volume finishes with a special word to hypocrites. Is there not a measure of hypocrisy in us all? This word fear God is conspicuous by absence, where pretence reigns. Michael Reeves is right. ‘where most assume that the fear of God must be the gloomy theological equivalent of eating up your greens, Bunyan shows what a delightful and helpful subject it is.’ A book to make your own, and a more than worthy addition to the Puritan paperback series.

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After a brief introduction, the address contains three points:

1. Our Armoury. Spurgeon simply describes this as the Bible and, for almost 40 of the 76 pages of the address, he emphasises such facts as: we need nothing more than what God has seen fit to reveal, and if that were not enough for our faith, what could we add to it? Again, we are not to cast away anything from the perfect volume.
2. Our Army. Here Spurgeon deals with the Church: first of all the question, Is there a Church at all? then, Is it real or statistical? and, Is it increasing or dying? He goes on to speak of such subjects as the importance of being busy and well-taught, and of ministers being an example to the flock.
3. Our Strength. This he identifies as the Holy Ghost and goes on to speak of, among other things, our need of dependence upon him in our preparation and in the pulpit as well as for our results.

Throughout this address Spurgeon pours scorn on those who denied verbal inspiration and were introducing error into the Church. For example he says,

We have nowadays a class of men who preach Christ, and even preach the Gospel; but then they preach a great deal else which is not true, and thus they destroy all the good of all they deliver, and lure men to error. They would be styled ‘evangelical’ and yet be of the school which is really anti-evangelical. Look well to these gentlemen. I have heard that a fox, when close hunted by the dogs, will pretend to be one of them, and run with the pack. That is what certain are aiming at just now: the foxes would seem to be dogs. But in the case of the fox, his strong scent betrays him, and the dogs soon find him out; and even so, the scent of false doctrine is not easily concealed, and the game does not answer for long. There are extant ministers of whom we scarce can tell whether they are dogs or foxes; but all men shall know our quality as long as we live and they shall be in no doubt as to what we believe and teach (pp. 42, 43).

There are just two points in the address with which the reviewer would take issue. First, endorsing the ‘Gap Theory’ which, to accommodate scientists of the day, posited millions of years between Genesis 1:1 and 1:2 (p. 34). This was a popular view in Spurgeon’s day and Thomas Chalmers taught it. However, the Hebrew does not allow for any such gap. The second point we take issue with is Spurgeon’s criticism of the Paedobaptist position which he calls an ‘addition. . . to the Word of God’ and concludes wrongly ‘Baptismal regeneration rides upon the shoulders of Paedobaptism’ (p. 37).

That apart, we have here an excellent address and, considering the fact that the situation today is even more serious than in Spurgeon’s day, we believe that all, especially preachers of the Word — to whom it was especially given — will profit from reading it.

This review first appeared in the August 2018 edition of the Free Presbyterian Magazine and has been reproduced with permission.

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The battle for truth began as far back as the Garden of Eden, with the promise of the protoevangelium, the announcement of the gospel, ‘remarkably it makes it debut as a sentence passed on the enemy’ (Derek Kidner; Genesis 3:13-15). This battle has raged, with varying degrees of heat, for six thousand years, but the fury of the conflict only now seems to be moving, so swiftly. Witness the large numbers of martyrs, the increasing persecution everywhere, the terrible universal lawlessness of the world and, in the West, the Church, so weak, so unready, so grasping of mere straws in the wind and, most dangerous, so optimistic of human remedies as a contemporary solution to spiritual verities.

The Westminster Confession, like all Creeds, is fallible. Like all human creedal statements, it is profoundly inferior to Holy Scripture. But it is the finest Creed still in Christendom, the most satisfying in its biblical endorsement, and the instrument which has proved itself again and again to be the fruit — and the herald — of reformation-revival. It has also provided real inspiration for great missionary endeavour, and proved the point many times over, there is no dichotomy between reformed teachings and heart-felt, burning zeal for lost souls.  There is urgent, if not mandatory need to re-read this uniquely valuable historical document, absorb its contents, pray-in the truths, draw comfort from its precepts, preach, apply, and commend its teachings, embrace its certainties, and to do so with worldwide Christendom in mind.

Let us be honest before Almighty God. Let us humble ourselves and repent of our many sins, personal and corporate. Let us learn from the Church of England and the Church of Scotland, and wider still, even from general Presbyterianism itself, Orthodoxy and truth is no automatic guarantee of Holy Ghost-inspired life. But it can be a mighty foundation and a powerful boost to the doctrines of grace, and the reality of salvation, when the Living God chooses to move among us. Abandonment of the doctrines of the Westminster Confession is surely a preliminary warning; our Enemy, the great red dragon, that old serpent, the Devil, Satan, the Deceiver, and the Accuser of the brethren, is flexing his debauched muscles for another (perhaps the final?) assault on God’s precious ones who, all praise to God Himself, shall gloriously overcome (Revelation 12:7-11).

The Westminster Assembly began its work on 1 July, 1643, and consisted of many of the foremost theologians of the English and Scottish churches. Assembling at Westminster Abbey, their task, authorised by the English Parliament, was virtually impossible — to reform the liturgy, discipline, and government of the Church of England; to promote church unity between England and Scotland, while embracing the Continent as well; and to substantially revise the 39 Articles of Religion. Such was the quality of the effort, it took five years to achieve, against the backdrop of immense political and spiritual conflict, in the period we now affectionately call ‘Puritan’. One can only longingly dream, of how different England might have become had the work here been as successful as it was in Scotland and far beyond. It also needs to be said, Independents and Baptists should remember, with immense gratitude to the Lord, how dependent their own valued doctrinal Confessions are on this remarkable Puritan period generally and on the Westminster Assembly and its work particularly.

This new Banner of Truth  volume is richly comprehensive.  The basis for the edition of the Westminster Confession of Faith is a text published by Thomas Nelson in London in 1857, under the authority of the General Assembly of the Free Church of Scotland. A short Appendix to the Confession of the Faith has been added, containing the three major ‘American Revisions’ of 1788. There is also the address to the Christian reader — especially heads of families,  which includes a list of signatories to those prayerfully sending forth the creed in the mid-17^th century. Thomas Manton’s epistle to the reader is included, the Acts of Assembly and Parliament, and other relevant Assemblies between 1643 & 1690.

Here in one volume is The Confession of Faith, The American Revisions, The Larger Catechism, The Shorter Catechism, The Sum of Saving Knowledge, The National Covenant, The Solemn League and Covenant, Acknowledgement of Sins and Engagement to Duties, The Directory for the Public Worship of God, The Form of Presbyterial Church Government, and the Directory for Family Worship. Finally, the chief matters contained in the Confession of Faith and Larger Catechism are added as a Table (i.e. an index for easy reference). Of course, Independents, concerning church government, Baptists with respect to candidates for baptism, and some Episcopalians (not this reviewer), on the nature of Presbyter-bishops, will hold conflicting views, with equal integrity. However, all those holding to the reformed faith, in its essential substance, should be able to largely unite around The Confession of Faith, which throughout gives copious, in-depth reference, and valuable record, of Holy Scripture, relevant to each dogmatic assertion.

1. The Confession of Faith is 33 chapters, a brief systematic theology, embracing Holy Scripture, the Holy Trinity, God’s eternal decree, Creation, Providence, The Fall into sin, God’s covenant, Christ the Mediator, Free Will, Effectual Calling, Justification, Adoption, Sanctification, Saving Faith, Repentance, Good Works, Perseverance of the Saints, Assurance of Grace and Salvation, The Law of God, Christian liberty, Worship and the Lord’s Day, Lawful oaths, Civil duties, Marriage and divorce, The Church, Communion of the saints, The Sacraments, Baptism, The Lord’s Supper, Church Discipline, Synods and Councils, Death and Resurrection, and the final Judgement.

2. The Larger & Shorter Catechisms The Larger Catechism, ‘for those who have made some proficiency’ in the knowledge and grounds of the Christian religion, is 196 Questions and answers. The Shorter Catechism is a ‘Directory for Catechising such as are of weaker capacity’,  that is, possibly, intended for children, young people, and new Christians, 107 questions and answers.

3. The Directory for the Public Worship of God is as relevant today as it was when first issued at Edinburgh, February 6, 1645. Evangelical worship in particular has largely become an irreverent and superficial affair, often more entertaining than edifying. The Directory deals with the public assembly of the Congregation, The public reading of Holy Scripture, prayer before sermon, the sermon itself, prayer after preaching, Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, Uniqueness of the Lord’s Day, Marriage, Visiting the Sick, Burial of the dead, Solemn fast days, Days of public Thanksgiving, the Singing of Psalms, and an appendix, concerning Days and Places of Public Worship.

Other Associated Historical Documents follow touching on pastoral and ecclesiological matters, such as church government, ordination, and Church Assemblies. Throughout, these documents are laced with Holy Scripture, printed in full for easy reference, and study, as well as for easy sermon, or Bible-lecture construction. All this was accomplished and presented, in the splendid rendering of the recently issued Authorised Version of 1611.

A highly respected professorial view, expressed in the near past, and enshrined on the dust cover of this splendid, and perhaps unequalled 2018 publication, is cause for serious meditation, and wholehearted implementation.

The Westminster Confession and Catechisms are, therefore, the mature fruit of the whole movement of creed-formation throughout fifteen centuries of Christian history, and, in particular, they are the crown of the greatest age of confessional exposition, the Protestant Reformation. No other similar documents have concentrated in them, and formulated with such precision, so much of the truth embodied in the Christian revelation (Professor John Murray, 1898-1975).

On a lighter note, Charles Haddon Spurgeon, once passed a butcher’s shop where he saw a large consignment of ‘backbone’ for sale. He later recorded in his Lectures to My Students, he could use the whole consignment for many of the men he knew! What might the famed Victorian Preacher, who died comparatively young, exhausted no doubt by the Liberal Doctrinal Downgrade and the many battles he fought for Jesus and His Truth, want to say to us, if he were alive today? We know what he thought of Thomas Watson’s Body of Divinity. He wrote a flowing commendatory preface to Watson’s theological exposition, based on the Shorter Catechism, stumbling only over baptism.

Today, recommending the Westminster Confession and its associates might be rather like trying to convince an inexperienced favourite nephew, on a visit to a car showroom, to choose a very old black Rolls Royce, and leave behind the pretty painted Lada. To change the image, why have one Christian book when you can have a complete library in one volume? £18 for all this? I don’t know how the publisher does it, but I’m so grateful this volume fell into my hands. It will stand alongside Calvin’s Institutes, Matthew Henry’s Commentaries, Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, and, yes, aside my valued Book of Common Prayer, as imperfect as it is in comparison.

When my dear wife has persuaded me to downsize my diminishing library further, to half a dozen necessary volumes, this one will most certainly remain. Why wouldn’t any Christian Minister want to buy the volume? Why wouldn’t any Church, worth the name, buy it for him? And why wouldn’t any Christian, wholeheartedly committed to the Lord, and seeking Christian maturity, wish to possess it, even if it takes a lifetime to read?

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But I must admit there are places in the Proverbs where I’m sometimes tempted to think, ‘Why do I need to read this again?’ When I come to chapter seven, for example, I’m so familiar with the story that I know exactly what’s going to happen when the foolish young man decides to walk down the street where the adulteress lurks. I want to say to the guy, ‘Don’t go down there this month! You’ve gone down there every month for forty years and it always ends badly. For once could you take a different route?’ But every month he heads down there, and he always ends up ‘going down to the chambers of death’ (7:27).

Why Read it Again and Again?

Since I know the passage by heart, why read it again? Then a few years ago I awakened to the reality that when the beginnings of such temptations inevitably come my way, I’m never more than thirty days away from a fresh warning of the ruin that comes from yielding so seduction. I don’t think I’ll ever reach the point where I don’t need that warning — frequently.

‘Let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall,’ (1 Corinthians 10:12).

Because of my love for the Proverbs and the perpetual value the wisdom of the book has been for my life, I wanted to instil its counsel early in the life of my daughter. So from the time she was very young, I began incorporating the book of Proverbs into our family worship routine.

A Simple, Effective Exercise

Here’s how I did it. In the beginning I would read a third of a chapter to her every night. During the first month of every quarter (that is, January, April, July, and October) I would read the first third of the chapter that corresponds with the day of each month.

On the second month of each quarter I read the middle third of the chapter for the day. And on the last month of the quarter I read the last third of the chapter. So on January 1 I read Proverbs 1:1-11 (or thereabouts). On February 1 I read Proverbs 1:12-22. And on March 1 I read Proverbs 1:23-33.

After a few years, I started reading half a chapter each night, alternating every other month. So on January 1 I read Proverbs 1:1-17 or so, and on February 1 I read Proverbs 1:18-33. Then when she was old enough, I began reading the entire chapter each evening, covering all of chapter one on the first of every month, all of chapter two on the second of each month, and so forth.

After these few minutes in the Proverbs, I would turn to wherever else we were reading in the Bible at that time.

Somewhere along the way I stumbled upon a practice that dramatically increased her listening and understanding. Before I started reading I said, ‘I want you to pick a verse and explain it to me, and one for me to explain to you.’ This made a huge difference. Often, of course, her explanation of a verse was off base or unclear. That gave me another occasion to make the Bible clearer to her. I commend this simple, but effective, exercise to you.

This article was originally published at BiblicalSpirituality.org

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The September 1955 edition speaks of the desire ‘to send out sound words of truth, with the conviction that there can be no greater matter of concern to the church of God than the truth of God’. A November 1957 editorial suggests that ‘this magazine is not a periodical published at fixed intervals but is designed rather as a booklet which can be of permanent usefulness and reference’. From the outset, then, this was a publication with purpose, with conviction, with measured ideals.

This retrospective has stirred my own thinking about the Banner of Truth magazine. Recently I was undertaking one of my periodic tidies of the study, and took some time to look through one of the thick binders which keep my past numbers of Banner in one place. The first copy of the magazine which I received was in January 2003, five months into my first pastorate. I can still remember the sense of excitement that encountering the articles contained within it evoked in me. I was coming face to face for the first time with a fundamentally Reformed way of studying Scripture, understanding the world, perceiving the church, and reading the times. The names and books referenced within the magazine led me on a journey which ultimately resulted in the formation of my own theological and pastoral understanding, one for which I will be eternally grateful.

There are many reasons why the magazine continues to hold appeal, here are a couple:

1. Content has been placed high above form on the list of priorities.

The one thing the Banner magazine won’t provide is gloss, or anything slick. From its diminutive A5 format, to its utter lack of illustrative input, the magazine announces right from the off that it is concerned with content. Each month carries a cover picture which can be of an individual or a significant location, and that, along with a few adverts for Banner books inside the front and back covers, is the only colour you’ll encounter. I don’t think that the editors have any desire for the magazine to be a celebration of drabness, but they are serious about wanting to produce a magazine which is valued for its reading material. This is refreshing in a world where style so often trumps substance.

2. Core issues are placed high above current issues.

The Banner magazine has enough versatility and bite to engage the world around it with clarity and integrity. Over the years I have particularly benefited from some of the cultural engagement which articles written by Peter Barnes have provided, as well as articles of a similar stripe by other authors. But current affairs is not the mainstay of the magazine’s content. Instead, the Banner earths its contemporary reflections in eternal truths, and is unabashed in offering pieces which handle what others might view as more obscure areas of theological thought and reflection. This is so refreshing. If, as a Pastor, I had found the January 2003 edition of the magazine bunged with applause or critique of the British Prime Minister, or overflowing with praise or denunciation of the American President I would quickly have tuned out from what it had to say. Instead the Banner surprised me then, and continues to surprise me now, with the sheer depth of material which it offers in a small span, and the variety of pastoral and theological issues which it manages to handle.

I have subscribed to the Banner magazine every year since 2003, having my copies mailed to Perú when we lived there as a family. I have bought gift subscriptions for friends and loved ones, and I will continue to welcome its arrival to our home with gladness and expectation. Ian Hamilton will be in my prayers as he takes the helm of a simple magazine which has ministered to me and thousands of others in untold ways.

This review was written by Andrew Roycroft and first appeared on his blog, thinkingpastorally.com

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So my review of Ferguson’s new book, Some Pastors and Teachers: Reflecting a Biblical Vision of What Every Minister is Called to Be, is not detached, neutral, impartial. I love this book. I love its author. I owe him, and the others who stand with him in this remarkable manifestation of Christianity, a profound debt of personal gratitude.

Master Course in Pastoral Ministry

Some Pastors and Teachers is Ferguson opening up to younger ministers this venerable ministerial tradition. He shares his mind and heart and lifetime of ministry for the instruction, encouragement, and benefit of the rising generation of pastors. He writes in the spirit of the apostle: ‘For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’s sake’ (2 Corinthians 4:5). With modesty, Ferguson explains:

In this sense Some Pastors and Teachers is simply a way of saying

These are some of the gifts that the Lord has given to me for others who have an interest in and a concern for the ministry of the gospel. I know the parcels are small; but I hope there will be something inside them that will be a blessing and an encouragement to you. (xiii)

These ‘small parcels’ are 39 essays from Ferguson’s written ministry through the years ‘on doctrines and themes especially relevant to the preaching of the gospel’ (xi). He draws on the wisdom of significant pastors in history — John Calvin, John Owen, and the Puritans. He expounds on the pastoral significance of Scripture, biblical theology, assurance, spirituality, confession, preaching Christ in the Old Testament, preaching the atonement, and more. Each chapter stands on its own, so a reader can ‘enter and leave at the point they choose’ (xiv).

Here’s one way to think of Some Pastors and Teachers: What if you could take a seminary-level course in pastoral ministry from the Rev. Dr. Sinclair B. Ferguson, for one academic year, with one lecture per week for 39 weeks, each one about an hour in length, for a mere $45? Who would not sign up for that course eagerly?

Well, you can take that course, and you don’t have to move to Dundee, Scotland, where Ferguson lives and serves. You can take that course right now, starting whenever it works for you, as you sit comfortably at home. It comes to you in the form of this wonderful book.

Some Pastors and Teachers is a volume for every minister’s study and indeed for the bookshelves and bedside table of everyone who has a concern for the ministry of the gospel and the well-being of the church in the 21st century.

In many ways, it reflects the biblical vision of what every minister is called to be: pastor, teacher, counselor, and example — but also a man who is growing spiritually, both in understanding and in character, before the eyes of his congregation.

Ongoing Growth

The burden of the book is to help young pastors set out on a life trajectory of ongoing growth, so that through the years they bear richer, deeper, more abundant fruit. I remember my dad, the greatest pastor I’ve ever known, lamenting to me privately that some pastors seemed to level off after perhaps 20 or so years in the ministry. Their files had become comfortably filled with sermons that seemed to’work’. So they began to slow down and settle and recycle old material. After all, it’s hard work to keep stretching and learning. It takes courage to see and declare new insights. Why not allow oneself to keep using what is already there? Why not even move to another church and preach old sermons as if they were fresh and new and hard-won?

What if you could take a seminary-level course in pastoral ministry from Sinclair Ferguson? You can.

Dad said to me, ‘I refuse to stagnate. God helping me, I will keep studying and staying fresh all the way to the end!’ He reminded me of the apostle Paul, who, even as an old man and not far from death, requested ‘the books and the parchments’ (2 Timothy 4:13). He reminded me of Paul’s exhortation that we ministers keep hustling, ‘so that all may see your progress’ (1 Timothy 4:15).

After my dad’s death in 2007, I found a note he had written to himself in January of that year, committing himself to new steps of growth over the next six months — which, indeed, were his last on earth. The apostolic spirit of ‘I press on’ (Philippians 3:12-14) filled his heart. That same spirit fills Some Pastors and Teachers in a profound way. This book can position a young minister for a lifetime of fruitful ministry, worthy of a ‘Well done’ from our Lord himself.

Some Pastors and Teachers will bring Sinclair Ferguson into your life as an aspiring teacher and at times as a gentle goad, helping you fan into flame the gift of God which is in you, so that you fulfil your ministry (2 Timothy 1:6; 4:5). If you will ‘take up and read,’ with a humble heart before the Lord, there need be no end to your growth in grace and progress in ministry, all the way to your promotion to glory.

Ray Ortlund (ThM, Dallas Theological Seminary; MA, The University of California, Berkeley; PhD, University of Aberdeen, Scotland) is senior pastor of Immanuel Church in Nashville, Tennessee, the president of Renewal Ministries and a Council member of The Gospel Coalition. He has authored a number of books, including Marriage an the Mystery of the Gospel. He and his wife, Jani, have four children.

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* * *

RULE 7: Pursue what is meaningful (not what is expedient).

This is the second longest chapter, all 41 pages and to be honest it’s a bit tedious/repetitive/befogging in places. It opens with one of Peterson’s familiar insights, ‘Life is suffering. That is clear. It’s basically what God tells Adam and Eve, immediately before he kicks them out of Paradise’ (Genesis 3:16-19). ‘What in the world should be done about that? The simplest, most obvious, and direct answer? Pursue pleasure. Follow your impulses. Live for the moment. Do what’s expedient. Lie, cheat steal, deceive, manipulate – but don’t get caught.’ ‘Or is there an alternative, more powerful and more compelling?’ There is, and Peterson explains it slowly and circuitously – well, he is an academic. Part of his answer is ‘sacrifice’. And he comes to this conclusion via a route with an unexpected start. He starts with Cain and Abel and develops through the Abrahamic adventures and the Exodus. ‘After much contemplation, struggling humanity learns that God’s favour could be gained, and his wrath averted, through proper sacrifice.’

His summation is this: ‘Our forefathers began to act out a proposition: That something better might be attained in the future by giving up something of value in the present.’ In short, death (the future) might be staved off through work (the present). And: ‘There is little difference between sacrifice and work. They are also both uniquely human.’ ‘The discovery of the causal relationship between our efforts today and the quality of tomorrow motivated the social contract.’ It’s the usefulness of delay, the gratification of delay – behaving properly now could bring rewards in the future.

Abel was rewarded, many times over, but Cain is not. Not all sacrifices are of equal quality. Why isn’t God happy? What would have to change to make Him so? Those are difficult questions – and everyone asks them, all the time, even if they don’t notice. Asking such questions is indistinguishable from thinking.

The social contract is about sharing and sharing is about trading – if I share my surplus mammoth now, I might be traded something in the future. ‘A child who can’t share – who can’t trade – can’t have any friends. It is better to have something than nothing. It’s even better . . . to become widely known for [being] reliable, honest and generous. The productive, truthful sharer is the prototype for the good citizen, and the good man.’ ‘The successful among us delay gratification. The successful among us bargain for the future.’ In other words, ‘The successful sacrifice.’ Peterson notes that God, ‘. . . demands not only sacrifice, but the sacrifice of precisely what is loved best.’ He illustrates this with the Abraham and Isaac account with the follow-up that ‘Sometimes things do not go well.’ If that is your lot, then maybe it’s not the world that’s the cause – it may be you and your current faulty presuppositions. Get rid of them, he urges – ‘It might even be time to sacrifice what you love best, so that you can become who you might become, instead of staying who you are.’ That does sound a little like psychobabble, but there is a kernel of truth there.

‘Something valuable, sacrificed, pleases the Lord. What constitutes the ultimate sacrifice – for the gain of the ultimate prize?’ Peterson considers Michelangelo’s great sculpture, the Pietà. For Mary, bearing the Christ-child is ‘an act of supreme courage.’ But for Christ, the crucifixion is ‘. . . the man who give his all for the sake of the better.’ As the Son sacrifices himself, so the Father simultaneously sacrifices his son. Peterson states, ‘It’s a story at the limit, where nothing more extreme – nothing greater – can be imagined.’ Any man who will sacrifice ‘. . . will forego expediency. He will pursue the path of ultimate meaning. And he will in that manner bring salvation to the ever-desperate world.’ Peterson’s drift is somewhat veiled at this juncture – I like his bold analogies, but am fearful that they are just religious words, even Roman Catholic words. Then on the very same page, as if en passant, Peterson lauds Socrates, his internal spirit and his rejection of expediency while noting, ‘Then he took his poison, like a man.’ It’s confusing and I’m confused.

Peterson returns to his theme of suffering, which, as opposed to sacrifice ‘. . . motivates the desire for selfish, immediate gratification – for expediency’, which leads to the problem of evil. So it’s prudently back to Adam and Eve and the realities of the post-Paradisal world – it’s characterised by hard work, vulnerability, disease and death. And there is the knowledge of Good and Evil. What’s all that about? Peterson reckons that once you become consciously aware of yourself, your vulnerability, your fear, anger, resent, bitterness and pain ‘you understand how to produce them in others.‘ Look and learn from Cain and Abel – in his existential fury, Cain kills.’ It’s horrific. Peterson regards it as ‘ . . . the archetypal tale of the hostile brothers, hero and adversary: the two element of the individual human psyche, one aimed up, at the Good, and the other, down at Hell itself.’ ‘Abel could please God . . . but he could not overcome human evil.’ Similarly, Christ and his temptation by Satan (Matthew 4:1) – but this time the hero wins. ‘It means’, according to Peterson, ‘that Christ is forever He who determines to take personal responsibility for the full depth of human depravity.’

Moving on, Peterson is not blind to the problems, even failures of Christianity. He approves of Carl Jung’s assessment that Christianity with its ‘. . . emphasis on spiritual salvation, had failed to sufficiently address the problem of suffering in the here-and-now.’ The idea of investigating the material, as opposed to the spiritual, world wandered through ‘the strange musings of alchemy’ until ‘the fully articulated form of science’ was developed and driven by a Christian worldview. Christianity was revolutionary – salvation by faith alone put all men – ‘slave and master ad commoner and nobleman alike’ – on an equal footing, ‘rendering them equal before God and the law.’ This became ‘. . . the fundamental presupposition of Western law and society.’ ‘Christianity made explicit the surprising claim that even the lowliest person had rights, genuine rights.’ ‘It objected to infanticide, to prostitution, and to the principle that might means right. It insisted that women were as valuable as men. It demanded that even a society’s enemies be regarded as human. Finally, it separated church from state. All of this was asking the impossible: but it happened.’ But other problems emerged.

Peterson lets Nietzsche distinguished them. For example, Christianity’s ‘ . . . sense of truth . . . came to question and then to undermine the fundamental presuppositions of the faith.’ In other words, modern atheists, who seek to belittle Bible believers, are arguing by using their sense of truth which Christianity developed over the preceding centuries. And Nietzsche held that the true moral burden of Christianity was removed from its followers by Christ’s sacrifice. Thus, he complained that earthly life was devalued – only the hereafter mattered. And because salvation could not be earned by effort, Christianity accepted the status quo. And because Christ had done all the important work, the moral burden was lifted from Christians. Peterson illustrates these issues with the devastating theme from Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov. Though Nietzsche pilloried the Christian church, ‘Dostoevsky saw that the great, corrupt edifice of Christianity still managed to make room for the spirit of its Founder.’ And that requires Christian dogma. And for those who shout that both God and dogma are dead, Peterson warns that there ‘. . . is something even more dead; . . . nihilism.’ And in the aftermath of God’s death? ‘. . . the great collective horrors of Communism and Fascism.’

Three hundred years before Nietzsche, the great French philosopher, René Descartes, was searching for a foundational foundation, ‘a single proposition impervious to his scepticism.’ He found it in his famous dictum, cognito ergo sum – I think therefore I am. ‘That which is aware and thinks. That’s the modern self, simply put.’ But what exactly is that self?’, Peterson asks. He sees it firstly in its horrors – such as Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Dachau and the Soviet gulags. But also in its goodness – following Karl Popper, Peterson comes up with – ‘We can produce an idea.’ ‘Now, an idea is not the same as a fact. A fact is something that is dead, in and of itself. There are billions of dead facts. The internet is a graveyard of dead facts. But an idea that grips a person in alive. An idea has an aim. It wants something. It posits a value structure.’ Peterson aligns himself with Descartes thus,

I had outgrown the shallow Christianity of my youth . . . I could not distinguish the basic elements of Christian belief from wishful thinking. Socialism proved equally insubstantial. I was tormented by the fact of the Cold War. I wanted a rock upon which to build my house. What can I not doubt? The reality of suffering. It brooks no arguments. Nihilists cannot undermine it with scepticism. Totalitarians cannot banish it. Cynics cannot escape its reality. That became the cornerstone of my belief. Understanding my own capacity to act like a Nazi prison guard . . . or a torturer of children in a dungeon, I grasped what it meant to “take the sins of the world onto oneself.” Each human being has an immense capacity for evil. And if there is something that is not good, then there is something that is good. The good is whatever stops such things [evil, torment and so on] from happening.

From this pilgrimage of his mind Peterson drew his ‘fundamental moral conclusions.’

Aim high. Pay attention. Fix what you can fix. Don’t be arrogant in your knowledge. Strive for humility. Become aware of your own insufficiency. Consider the murderousness of your own spirit. Maybe it’s not the world that’s at fault. Maybe it’s you. You’ve failed to make the mark. You’ve fallen short of the glory of God. You’ve sinned. And, above all, don’t lie. Don’t lie about anything, ever. Lying leads to Hell.

‘Make that an axiom: to the best of my ability I will act in a manner that leads to the alleviation of unnecessary pain and suffering.’ This, according to Peterson, puts a set of presuppositions and actions at the pinnacle of his moral hierarchy. ‘Why? Because we know the alternative. The alternative was the twentieth century. And the opposite of Hell is Heaven. To place the alleviation of unnecessary pain and suffering at the pinnacle of your hierarchy of value is to work to bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth.’

How do we construct a moral hierarchy? For Jung, ‘It was what a person believed most deeply. Something enacted . . . it’s a personality – or, more precisely a choice between two opposing personalities. It’s Cain or Abel – and it’s Christ or Satan. If it’s working . . . for the establishment Paradise, then it’s Christ. That’s the inescapable, archetypal reality.’ ‘Expedience is the following of blind impulse. It’s short-term gain. It’s narrow, and selfish. It lies to get its way. Meaning is its mature replacement. Meaning emerges when impulses are regulated. It will provide the antidote to chaos and suffering. It will make everything matter. It will make everything better. If you act properly . . . everything will come together. This produces maximal meaning. Meaning trumps expedience. You may come to ask yourself, “What should I do today? . . . to make things better, instead of worse?”‘

Expedience – that’s hiding all the skeletons in the closet. That’s avoiding responsibility. It’s cowardly, and shallow, and wrong. There is no faith and no courage and no sacrifice in doing what is expedient. To have meaning in your life is better than to have what you want. What is expedient works only for a moment. Meaning is the ultimate balance between, on the one hand, the chaos of transformation and possibility and on the other, the discipline of pristine order. Meaning is the Way, the path of life more abundant, the place you live when you are guided by Love and speaking the Truth and when nothing you want or could possibly want takes any precedence over precisely that.

‘Do what is meaningful, not what is expedient.’

RULE 8: Tell the truth – or, at least, don’t lie.

Do you tell the truth? Always? Are you sure? As a student Peterson began to pay close attention to what he was doing and saying. And to his astonishment, ‘I soon came to realize that almost everything I said was untrue. I had motives for saying these things: I wanted to win arguments and gain status and impress people and get what I wanted. But I was a fake. Realizing this . . . I started to practise telling the truth – or, at least, not lying.’ How easily we can ‘act politically’ or ‘spin’. ‘It’s what everyone does when they want something, and decide to falsify themselves to please and flatter.’ We use what are known as ‘life-lies’ to manipulate reality with perception, thought and action, so that only some narrowly desired and pre-defined outcome is allowed to exist. ‘Pride falls in love with its own creations, and tries to make them absolute.’ This is typical of ideologues. And there are those who live a life of avoidance, pretending everything is going well, avoiding conflict, smiling and always obliging. ‘She has become nothing but a slave, a tool for others to exploit.’ She never speaks her mind, she finds a niche and hides in it. ‘Someone hiding is not someone vital. Vitality requires original contribution.’ ‘If you will not reveal yourself to others, you cannot reveal yourself to yourself. This means that a lot of you is still nascent. You have to say something, go somewhere and do things to get turned on. And, if not . . . you remain incomplete.’ Peterson has a point, but such a severe appraisal is bound to ruffle some feathers of evangelical Christians with their ethos of sacrificing, servicing and sharing.

If you betray yourself, if you say untrue things, if you act out a lie, you weaken your character. Only the most cynical, hopeless philosophy insists that reality could be improved by falsification. It denounces truth as insufficient and the honest man as deluded. It is instead wilful blindness. It’s the worst sort of lie. It’s subtle. Wilful blindness is the refusal to know something that could be known. It’s refusal to admit to error while pursuing the plan.

Peterson’s wish is for the blind plan to fail, then you try something new, you move ahead. ‘You remember the old joke: insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results.’ And, as ever, his suggestion is ‘. . . to begin with small changes, and see if they help. Sometimes, however, . . . the entire edifice has to be abandoned. Error necessitates sacrifice to correct it. To accept the truth means to sacrifice.’ This is what Søren Kierkegaard and others call being “inauthentic”. “Did what I want happen? No. Then my aim or my methods were wrong. I still have something to learn.” That is the voice of authenticity.’

‘When the individual lies, he knows it.’ And if you don’t object and correct him the first time, then the ground is prepared for more and more lies. ‘You’ve already trained yourself to allow such things, by failing to react the first time. You’re a little less courageous.’ Consider ‘. . . the almost universal proclivity of the Soviet citizen to falsify his own-day-today personal experience, deny his own state-induced suffering.’ Did it matter? It led to Stalin and the gulags. ‘Untruth corrupts the soul and the state alike, and one form of corruption feeds the other.’ ‘Any natural weakness or existential challenge, no matter how minor, can be magnified into a serious crisis with enough deceit in the individual, family or culture.’ But, ‘With love, encouragement, and character intact, a human being can be resilient beyond imagining. What cannot be borne, however, is the absolute ruin produced by tragedy and deception.’ ‘To say it again: it is the greatest temptation of the rational faculty to glorify its own capacity . . . and to claim . . . that nothing transcendent or outside its domain need exist.’ ‘That is what totalitarian means: Everything that needs to be discovered has been discovered.’ Witness the lies and disasters created by Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot and the rest.

Peterson asks, ‘What happens if, instead, we decide to stop lying?’ First, he says we need an aim, an ambition which provides a structure necessary for action. ‘Some reliance on tradition can help us establish our aims. It is reasonable to do what other people have always done.’ For example,

It is reasonable to become educated and work and find love and have a family. That is how culture maintains itself. But . . . aim at your target . . . with your eyes wide open. You have a direction, but it might be wrong. You have a plan, but it might be ill-informed. It is your responsibility to see what is before your eyes, courageously, and to learn from it, even if it seems horrible. Set your ambitions. The better ambitions have to do with the development of character and ability, rather than status and power. And, while you are doing this, do not lie. Especially to yourself. All people serve their ambition. In that matter there are no atheists. There are only people who know, and don’t know, what God they serve.

Lies corrupt the world. Worse, that is their intent. First, a little lie; then, several little lies to prop it up. After that, distorted thinking to avoid the shame that those lies produce. If you don’t believe in brick walls, you will still be injured when you run headlong into one. That’s things falling apart. But it’s not yet Hell. Hell comes later. Hell comes when lies have destroyed the relationship between individual or state and reality itself. Things fall apart. Life degenerates. The deceitful individual desperately gestures at sacrifice, like Cain, but fails to please God. Then the drama enters its final act. Tortured by constant failure, the individual becomes bitter. I need, I deserve, I must have – my revenge. That’s the gateway to Hell.

At the beginning of time . . . the Word of God transformed chaos into Being through the act of speech. It is axiomatic . . . that man and woman alike are made in the image of that God. We also transform chaos into Being, through speech. Truth builds edifices that can stand for a thousand year. Truth is the ultimate, inexhaustible natural resource. It’s the light in the darkness. See the truth. Tell the truth. If your life is not what it could be, try telling the truth. In Paradise, everyone speaks the truth. That is what makes it Paradise.

‘Tell the truth. Or, at least, don’t lie.’

RULE 9: Assume that the person you are listening to might know something you don’t.

This chapter majors on the purposes and benefits of conversation, both real and sham, primarily from a clinical psychological perspective, but helpfully, not always. It begins, ‘Psychotherapy is not advice. Advice is what you get when the person you’re talking with . . . wishes you would just shut up and go away. Psychotherapy is genuine conversation. Genuine conversation is exploration, articulation and strategizing. Listening is paying attention. It’s amazing what people will tell you if you listen.’

Peterson gives some specific, both sad and amusing, examples from his clinical work. He is convinced that ‘any orderly system of interpretation’, be it Freudian, Jungian, Adlerian, Rogerian or behavioural principles, will work because many people’s lives are so confused. ‘At least then you might be good for something, if not good yet for everything. You can’t fix a car with an axe, but you can cut down a tree.’ And Peterson provides cautions about raking over the past. ‘The past appears fixed, but it is not – not in an important psychological sense. When you remember the past . . . you remember some parts of it and forget others. You don’t form a comprehensive, objective record. You can’t. You just don’t know enough. You’re not objective, either. You’re alive. You’re subjective.’ ‘Memory is not a description of the objective past. Memory is a tool. Memory is the past’s guide to the future.’

The people I [Peterson] listen to need to talk, because that’s how people think. People need to think. People think they think, but it’s not true. It’s mostly self-criticism that passes for thinking. True thinking is rare – just like true listening. Thinking is listening to yourself. It’s difficult. To think, you have to be at least two people [Peterson envisions them as avatars] at the same time. Then you have to let those people disagree. True thinking is complex and demanding. It requires you to be articulate speaker and careful, judicial listener, at the same time. What are you to do, then, if you aren’t very good at thinking, at being two people at one time? That’s easy. You talk. But you need someone to listen. A listening person is your collaborator and your opponent.

This sounds like a puff for the psychology profession!

‘A listening person can reflect the crowd . . . the crowd is by no means always right, but it’s commonly right.’ Freud recommended his patients listen to themselves while lying on his couch looking at the ceiling. It was his method of free association. He wanted to avoid interfering with their free expression. Moreover, ‘Freud insisted that psychoanalysts be analysed themselves. Freud had a point. He was, after all, a genius. You can tell that because people still hate him.’ Moving on to ‘Carl Rogers, one of the twentieth century’s great psychotherapists, knew something about listening. He wrote, “The great majority of us cannot listen; we find ourselves compelled to evaluate, because listening is too dangerous.”‘ He suggested that the listener frequently summarizes what he has heard – to understand the speaker, to consolidate the memory and to avoid straw-man arguments. ‘If you listen . . . people will generally tell you everything they are thinking. Very few of your conversations will be boring. If the conversation is boring, you probably aren’t listening.’

‘Not all talking is thinking. Nor does all listening foster transformation. There are other motives for both.’ Peterson sets out seven types of good and bad encounters. First, the speaker is seeking to establish hierarchical dominance. Second, neither speaker is listening to the other. Third, one is trying to attain victory for his point of view. Fourth, one person has the floor and everyone else listens. ‘. . . people organize their brains with conversation.’ Peterson maintains that, ‘We outsource the problem of our sanity‘, meaning that we use others to keep our complex selves functional. This is why it is the fundamental responsibility of parents to render their children socially acceptable.’ Fifth, there is the lecture. ‘A lecture is – somewhat surprisingly – a conversation. The lecturer speaks, but the audience communicates with him or her non-verbally. A good lecturer is thus talking with and not at or even to his or her listeners.’ Sixth, there can be conversations that are demonstrations of joshing and wit, usually among close friends. Seventh, there can be mutual exploration – all the participants are organizing their thoughts and trying to solve a problem. ‘This kind of conversation constitutes active philosophy, the highest form of thought, and the best preparation for proper living.’ Most conversations attempt to buttress some existing order and preconceptions – mutual exploration works best when the unknown and chaos become friends, albeit temporarily.

‘So, listen, to yourself and to those with whom you are speaking. Your wisdom then consists not of the knowledge you already have, but the continual search for knowledge, which is the highest form of wisdom. Assume that the person you are listening to might know something you don’t.’ OK, dear reader, please don’t assume that I agree with Peterson at all points, but he makes me think (at least, I think that’s what I’m doing, but who can be sure anymore?).

RULE 10: Be precise in your speech.

We assume that we see objects or things when we look at the world, but that’s not really how it is. Our evolved perceptual systems transform the interconnected, complex multi-level world that we inhabit not so much into things per se as into useful things. This is the necessary, practical reduction of the world. This is how precision makes the world sensibly manifest.

We see tools and obstacles, not objects or things. The world reveals itself to us as something to utilize and something to navigate through – not as something that merely is. We see the faces of the people we are talking to. We don’t see their microcosmic substructures, their cells . . . We don’t see, as well, the macrocosm that surrounds them: the family members and friends . . . We don’t see them across time. And we have to see in this way, or be overwhelmed. It is for this reason that we must be precise in our aim. Absent that, we drown in the complexity of the world.

‘This is true even for the perceptions of ourselves. We assume that we end at the surface of our skin. Even when we do something as apparently simple as picking up a screwdriver, our brain automatically adjusts what it considers body to include the tool.’ What we are holding is now ‘our’ screwdriver – it is an extension of self. The extensible boundaries of our selves also expand to include other people – family members, lovers and friends. Engrossed in a fictional world [such as watching a TV drama on a screen] we can even become things that don’t “really” exist.’ This also applies to a whole group of, for example, football fans who can rise up and cheer in an unscripted unison when the winning goal is scored. ‘Our capacity for identification is something that manifests itself at every level of our Being.’

‘It is very difficult to make sense of the interconnected chaos of reality, just by looking at it.’ We perceive a car not as a thing or an object but as something that takes us from A to B. We only consider it more deeply when it breaks down. Then ‘. . . our peace of mind disappears along with our functioning vehicle.’ We then resort to a skilled mechanic to restore both our mind and our car. Breakdowns of all sorts show ‘. . . the staggeringly low-resolution quality of our vision and the inadequacy of our corresponding understanding.’ ‘When things breakdown, what has been ignored rushes in . . . the walls crumble and chaos makes its presence known. It is then that we see what focused intent, precision of aim and careful attention protects us from.’ Peterson moves on to examine the example of an adulterous husband.

Imagine a loyal and honest wife suddenly confronted by evidence of her husband’s infidelity. She saw him as she assumes he is: reliable, hard-working, loving, dependable. Her theory of her husband collapses. Her theory of herself collapses, too. The past is not necessarily what it was, even though it has already been. The present is chaotic and indeterminate. We perceive a very narrow slice of a causally interconnected matrix. Where can we look, when it is precisely what we see that has been insufficient?

‘It’s chaos that we see, when things fall apart. And so, the deceived wife . . . feels the motivation to reveal all – or retreats into silence. She is by turns enraged, terrified, struck down by pain, and exhilarated by the possibilities of her new-found freedom. Where is she? In the underworld, with all its terrors. How did she get there? Chaos emerges in a household, bit by bit. Mutual unhappiness and resentment pile up. Everything untidy is swept under the rug. Everybody whistles in the dark, instead. Don’t ever underestimate the destructive power of sins of omission.’ Maybe the couple took the ‘. . . lazy and cowardly way: “It’s OK. It’s not worth fighting about.” There is little in a marriage that is not worth fighting about. You’re stuck in a marriage like the two proverbial cats in a barrel, bound by the oath that lasts in theory until one or both of you die. That oath is there to make you take the damn situation seriously.’ ‘And maybe the fault is with you, and you should grow up, get yourself together and keep quiet. Sorting that out is worth a fight, isn’t it? Living things die, after all, without attention. Maybe respect slowly turned into contempt, and no one deigned to notice. Maybe love turned into hate, without mention. What can possibly compare to the pleasures of sophisticated and well-practised martyrdom? Don’t confront the chaos and turn it into order – just wait for the chaos to rise up and engulf your instead.’

But not thinking about something you don’t want to know about doesn’t make it go away. Isn’t it better under such circumstances to live in wilful blindness and enjoy the bliss of ignorance? Do you truly think it wise to let the catastrophe grow in the shadows, while you shrink and decrease and become ever more afraid? Maybe you’ll get hurt. Probably you’ll get hurt. Life, after all, is suffering. Why refuse to specify, when specifying the problem would enable its solution? Because to specify the problem is to admit that it exists. Because while you are failing to define success you are also refusing to define failure, to yourself, so that if and when you fail you won’t notice. Some earlier care and courage and honesty in expression might have saved her from all this trouble. How might she then have served herself, her family, and the world? Maybe her house would have been founded more on rock and less on sand. When things fall apart, and chaos re-emerges, we can give structure to it, and re-establish order, through our speech. If we speak carefully and precisely, we can sort things out. If we speak carelessly and imprecisely, however, things remain vague. It is very difficult to put such things in order – but damaged machinery will continue to malfunction if its problems are neither diagnosed nor fixed.

Precision specifies. When something terrible happens, it is precision that separates the unique terrible thing that has actually happened from all the other, equally terrible things that might have happened – but did not. If you refuse to tell your doctor about your pain then what you have is unspecified: it could be any of those diseases. But if you talk to your doctor, all those terrible diseases will collapse, with luck, into one terrible (or not so terrible) disease, or even into nothing. But even what is terrible in actuality often pales in significance compared to what is terrible in imagination. If the gap between pretence and reality goes unmentioned, it will widen. Ignored reality manifests itself in an abyss of confusion and suffering.

‘You have to consciously define the topic of conversation, particularly when it is difficult – or it becomes about everything, and everything is too much. This is so frequently why couples cease communicating. But to do that, you have to think: What is wrong, exactly? What do I want, exactly? You must use honest precise speech to do that. Say what you mean, so that you can find out what you mean. Act out what you say, so you can find out what happens. Then pay attention. Note your errors. Articulate them. Strive to correct them. That is how you discover the meaning of your life. How could it be otherwise?’ ‘Be precise in your speech.’

RULE 11: Do not bother children when they are skateboarding.

The longest chapter (48 pages) in the book, but a pretty easy read focussing on boys and girls, men and women with several anecdotes about his pal Chris and some of his clinical clients. The skateboarding reference in the title raises the issue of risk –

Kids need playgrounds dangerous enough to remain challenging. People, including children don’t seek to minimize risk. They seek to optimize it. We prefer to live on the edge. We’re hard-wired, for that reason to enjoy risk. Overprotected, we will fail when something dangerous, unexpected and full of opportunity suddenly makes an appearance, as it inevitably will.

Peterson is a critic of those, such as Rachael Carson, of Silent Spring fame, and the other eco-doomsters. Look, he says,

. . . it’s only a few decades ago that the majority of human beings were starving, diseased and illiterate. Wealthy as we are we still only live decades that can be counted on our fingers. It is the rare and fortunate family that does not contain at least one member with a serious illness. We do what we can to make the best of things, in our vulnerability and fragility, and the planet is harder on us that we are on it. We could cut ourselves some slack. Human beings are, after all, seriously remarkable creatures. We have no peers, and it’s not clear that we have any real limits. Why, then, is it virtuous to propose that the planet might be better off, if there were fewer people on it?

There is, according to Peterson, a lot of self-appointed judges our there as well as a lot of resentment. They run from the ghastly Columbine High School killers through to the seemingly benign David Attenborough and the Club of Rome. They regard themselves as heroes – ‘veritable planetary saviours’.

Nowadays, it’s politically correct to regard boys and girls as equal and merely subject to a social construct called gender. Peterson is having nothing of this deconstructionist mumbo-jumbo. ‘Boys are suffering, in the modern world. They are more disobedient – negatively – or more independent – positively – than girls, and they suffer for this. They are less agreeable and less susceptible to anxiety and depression. Boys’ interests tilt towards things; girls’ interests tilt towards people.’ There are ‘. . . those who insist, ever more loudly, that gender is a social construct. It isn’t. This isn’t a debate. The data are in.’ Ooh, Professor Peterson, you are so vehement! And he hasn’t finished yet. ‘Boys like competition, and they don’t like to obey, particularly when they are adolescents. Girls will, for example, play boys’ games, but boys are much more reluctant to play girls’ games. Girls can win by winning in their own hierarchy. They can add to this victory by winning in the boys’ hierarchy. Boys, however, can only win in the male hierarchy. They will lose status, among girls and boys, by being good at what girls value.’ Then Peterson jumps to this interesting question: ‘Are the universities – particularly the humanities – about to become a girls’ game? ‘Almost 80 percent of students majoring . . . [in the humanities] are female. At this rate there will be very few men in most university disciplines in fifteen years. This is not good news for men. But it’s also not good news for women.’

The women at female-dominated institutes of higher education are finding it increasingly difficult to arrange a dating relationship. A stable, loving relationship is highly desirable, for men as well as women. For women, however, it is often what is most wanted. Who decided, anyway, that career is more important than love and family? And if it is worth it, why is it worth it? The increasingly short supply of university-educated men poses a problem of increasing severity for women who want to marry, as well as date. First, women have a strong proclivity to marry across or up the economic dominance hierarchy. They prefer a partner of equal or greater status. The same does not hold, by the way, for men, who are perfectly willing to marry across or down. Why do women want an employed partner and, preferably, one of higher status? In no small part, it’s because women become more vulnerable when they have children. Why would a woman who decides to take responsibility for one or more infants want an adult to look after as well? So, the unemployed working man is an undesirable specimen. The strong turn towards political correctness in universities has exacerbated the problem. There are whole disciplines in universities forthrightly hostile towards men. These are the areas of study, dominated by the postmodern/neo-Marxist claim that Western culture, in particular, is an oppressive structure, created by white men to dominate and exclude women.

Of course, culture is an oppressive structure. It’s always been that way. It’s a fundamental, universal existential reality. The tyrannical king is a symbolic truth. But it offers great gain, too. Every word we speak is a gift from our ancestors. Culture takes with one hand, but in some fortunate places it gives more with the other. To think about culture only as oppressive is ignorant and ungrateful, as well as dangerous. Consider this: any hierarchy creates winners and losers. It is also perverse to consider culture the creation of men. Culture is symbolically, archetypically, mythically male. That’s partly why the idea of “the patriarchy” is so easily swallowed. Here’s an alternative theory: throughout history, men and women both struggled terribly for freedom from the overwhelming horrors of privation and necessity. Women . . . had the extra reproductive burden, and less physical strength . . . menstruation, unwanted pregnancy, childbirth and too many young children. At least such things should be taken into account, before the assumption that men tyrannized women is accepted as a truism.

Peterson draws attention to Arunachalam Muruganantham, James Young Simpson, Dr Earle Cleveland Haas and Gregory Pincus and asks pertinently, ‘In what manner were these practical, enlightened, persistent men part of a constricting patriarchy?’ Contrast these with, for example, the influences of the Marxist humanists such as Max Horkheimer, Jacques Derrida and Khieu Samphan – and what do you get? In the Soviet Union, China, Vietnam, Cambodia and elsewhere, tens of millions of people killed, hundreds of millions oppressed. The story of the kulaks, the Soviet Union’s richest peasants, is a salutary tale. To the communist mind their wealth signified oppression and their private property was theft. It was time for some equity. The kulaks were “the enemy of the people”. Thirty thousand were shot on the spot. Other were beaten, raped and forced to dig their own graves. The rest were exiled to Siberia. Yet Western intellectuals remained steadfastly enamoured with communism. ‘In Derrida’s view, hierarchies exist because they gain from oppressing those who are omitted. It is this ill-gotten gain that allows them to flourish. It is almost impossible to over-estimate the nihilistic and destructive nature of this philosophy.’ For Derrida and his acolytes, human activities are games, driven, not so much the old communist idea of wealth, but of power.

‘The fact that power plays a role in human motivation it does not mean that it plays the only role, or even the primary role.’ ‘In societies that are well-functioning, competence, not power, is a prime determiner of status. Competence. Ability. Skill. Not power. Furthermore, the most valid personality trait predictors of long-term success in Western countries are intelligence and conscientiousness.’ Yet Peterson points out, ‘The insane and incomprehensible postmodern insistence that all gender differences are socially constructed, for example, becomes all too understandable when its moral imperative is grasped – when its justification for force is once and for all understood: Society must be altered, or bias eliminated, until all outcomes are equitable.’ But all outcomes cannot be equalized. First, they must be measured. “Equal pay for equal work” is a neat slogan but who decides what work is equal? The practicalities of such an exercise are impracticable. Or, what about disabilities? ‘Every person is unique – and not just in a trivial manner: importantly, significantly, meaningfully unique. Group membership cannot capture that viability. Period.’

A tenet of social constructionist theory is that boys should be socialised like girls. Its proponents assume that aggression is a learned behaviour and so should simply not be taught. Moreover, ‘boys . . . should be encouraged to develop feminine socially positive qualities, such as tenderness . . . cooperation and aesthetic appreciation. First, it is not the case that aggression is merely learned. Aggression is there at the beginning. Aggression is innate.’ Moreover many women (and some men) have trouble at work and at home because they are not aggressive enough. ‘They tend to treat those around them as if they were distressed children. They tend to be naïve. They continually sacrifice for others. This may sound virtuous . . . but it can and often does become counterproductively one-sided.’ They tend not to stand up for themselves, they expect reciprocity and when this is not forthcoming, they can become resentful. ‘There are only two major reasons for resentment: being taken advantage of, or whiny refusal to adopt responsibility and grow up. If you are resentful, look for the reasons. Perhaps someone is taking advantage of you. This means that you now face a moral obligation to speak up for yourself.’ Muster at least three examples of their misbehaviour and charitably face your wife, boss, child, or whoever. Hurt and pain may be the immediate outcomes. ‘If you remain unmoved [by their counterarguments], they get angry, or cry, or run away.’ Peterson advises, ‘It’s very useful to attend to tears in such situations. But tears are often shed in anger. A red face is a good cue. Make your request as small and reasonable as possible. In that manner, you come to the discussion with a solution, instead of just a problem.’

This leads to a fascinating section, which commences, ‘It would be lovely if the opposite of a criminal was a saint – but it is not the case. The opposite of a criminal is an Oedipal mother, which is its own type of criminal. The Oedipal mother says to her child, “I live only for you.” She does everything for her children. She ties their shoes, and cuts up their food. The deal is this: “Above all, never leave me.” Peterson then expands this thesis with reference to Hansel and Gretel and The Terrible Mother, the work of Johann Jakob Bachofen, Disney’s The Little Mermaid, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and several more. We get the picture, Jordan. ‘For a woman to be complete, such stories claim, she must form a relationship with masculine consciousness and stand up to the terrible world (which sometimes manifests itself, primarily, in the form of her too-present mother.’ The take-home message? Foster independence in your children.

Men have to toughen up. Men demand it, and women want it. Men toughen up by pushing themselves, and by pushing each other. If they’re healthy, women don’t want boys. They want men. They want someone to contend with; someone to grapple with. If they’re tough, they want someone tougher. If they are smart, they want someone smarter. This often makes it hard for tough, smart, attractive women to find mates.’ Therefore anything that hinders boys from risking becoming men is a hindrance to both men and women. And if you think tough men are dangerous, wait until you see what weak men are capable of.

‘Leave children alone when they are skateboarding.’

RULE 12: Pet a cat when you encounter one on the street.

Like several of the chapters this one starts with a diversion – about dogs, or rather Peterson’s dog, Sikko, an American Eskimo. This is his ruse to illustrate a phenomenon known as “minimal group identification” discovered by a social psychologist named Henri Tajfel. He showed that people displayed a marked preference for their own group members. Apparently this ‘ . . . demonstrated two things: first, that people are social; second, that people are antisocial.’ Well, big deal! This reinforces my view (prejudice) about the calibre of much of social science research. Anyway, Peterson reckoned that including ‘cat’ in the title would turn off the doggie people, so he started with canines to win them over – what a creep!

After that little jollity, Peterson returns to one of his recurrent themes, ‘The idea that life is suffering is a tenet . . . of every major religious doctrine . . . because human beings are intrinsically fragile. We can be damaged, even broken, emotionally and physically.’ He recounts a conversation with one of his clients whose husband recently had bad, bad cancer news. They discussed the ‘the whys and wherefores of human vulnerability.’ He starts with Julian, his son, who, when he was about three and naturally fragile, was subject to high fevers and delirium. And then his older daughter, Mikhaila, who at about two years old complained of leg pain. At six, this previously sunny girl became mopey and tearful. ‘The physio told us, “Your daughter has juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.” What sort of God would make a world where such a thing could happen, at all? – much less to an innocent and happy little girl?’ ‘It’s an issue addressed in The Brothers Karamazov, the great novel by Dostoevsky.’ Ivan and Alyosha are brothers. The former says, “It’s not God I don’t accept. I do not accept the world that He created.” Then Ivan tells a story of some wicked parents who mistreat their daughter terribly. ‘Alyosha: “If you were somehow promised that the world could finally have complete and total peace – but only on the condition that you tortured one little child to death – say, that girl who was freezing in the outhouse . . . would you do it?” Alyosha demurs. “No, I would not,” he says, softly.”‘ Peterson comments, ‘He would not do what God seems to freely allow.’ This gets Peterson thinking again about his fragile Julian, ‘I came to realize through such thoughts that what can be truly loved about a person is inseparable from their limitations. Julian wouldn’t have been little and cute and lovable if he wasn’t also prone to illness, and loss, and pain, and anxiety. Since I loved him a lot, I decided that he was all right the way he was, despite his fragility.’

‘Limitation’ is Peterson’s answer to the universal question, ‘Why me?””If you are already everything, everywhere, always, there is nowhere to go and nothing to be. And it is for this reason, so the story goes, that God created man. No limitation, no story. That idea has helped me deal with the terrible fragility of Being. Peterson admits that this is not a perfect, all-embracing answer, ‘But there is something to be said for recognizing that existence and limitation are inextricably linked.’ How are we to cope? Peterson responds, ‘And I also don’t think it is possible to answer the question by thinking. Thinking leads inexorably to the abyss. Something supersedes thinking. In such situations – in the depths – it’s noticing, not thinking, that does the trick. Perhaps you might start by noticing this: when you love someone, it’s not despite their limitations. It’s because of their limitations. Of course it’s complicated.’

Mikhail’s story becomes more tragic. Hip and leg bone deterioration plus numerous inappropriate drugs, misdiagnoses and poor advice caused her, and her family, grief and pain.

During much of this period, we were overwhelmed. So how do you manage? Here are some things we learned: Set aside some time to talk and to think about the illness. Do not talk or think about it otherwise. Conserve your strength. Shift the unit of time you use to frame your life. When the sun is shining . . . you make your plans for the next month, and the next year, and the next five years. “Sufficient unto the day are the evils thereof” – that is Matthew 6:34. Christ enjoins His followers to place faith in God’s Heavenly Kingdom, and the truth. That’s a conscious decision to presume the primary goodness of Being. That’s an act of courage. Aim high. Be careful. Put the things you can control in order. Repair what is in disorder, and make what is already good better. People are very tough. People can survive through much pain and loss. But to persevere they must see the good in Being. If they lose that, they are truly lost.

‘Dogs are like people. They are the friends and allies of human beings. They are social, hierarchical, and domesticated. Dogs are great. Cats, however, are their own creatures. They aren’t social or hierarchical. They are only semi-domesticated. When you meet a cat on the street, many things can happen.’ Maybe it will run away, ignore you, roll over and allow you to stroke it. ‘It’s a nice break. It’s a little extra light, on a good day, and a tiny respite, on a bad day. If you pay careful attention, even on a bad day, you may be fortunate enough to be confronted with small opportunities of just that sort. Maybe . . . a little girl dancing on the street . . . a particularly good cup of coffee . . . some little ridiculous thing that distracts you. And maybe when you are going for a walk and your head is spinning a cat will show up and if you pay attention to it then you will get a reminder for just fifteen seconds that the wonder of Being might make up for the ineradicable suffering that accompanies it.’ ‘Pet a cat when you encounter one on the street.’

As a postscript, Peterson writes that,

Mikhaila’s surgeon told her that her artificial ankle would have to be removed. Amputation waited down the road. She had been in pain for eight years. Four days later she happened upon a new physiotherapist. He placed his hands around her ankle and compressed it for forty seconds. Her pain disappeared. She never cries in front of medical personnel, but she burst into tears. Now she can walk long distances, and traipse around in her bare feet. This year, she got married and had a baby girl, Elizabeth. Things are good. For now.

Coda.

One evening in later 2016, Jordan Peterson met with a friend who gave him a gift – a pen with an LED light at its tip. Peterson wanted to use his new gadget in a notable way. He asked himself, ‘”What shall I do with my newfound pen of light?” There are two verses in the New Testament that pertain to such things. I’ve thought about them a lot: Matthew 7:7-8 and Matthew 6:28-33.’ Peterson’s exposition of these passages may be well-intentioned but hardly orthodox. However, he was earnestly trying to resolve the answer to his question. ‘I was holding a conversation between two different elements of myself. I was genuinely thinking – or listening, in the sense described in Rule 9.’ ‘. . . almost immediately, an answer revealed itself: Write down the words you want inscribed on your soul. I wrote that down. Then I upped the ante. If you have a Pen of Light, after all, you should use it to answer Difficult Questions. Here was the first: What shall I do tomorrow? The answer came: The most good possible in the shortest period of time.’ What follows are some two dozen other questions that range from, ‘What shall I do for God my Father? Answer: Sacrifice everything I hold dear to yet greater perfection’ to ‘What shall I do when I ruin my rivers? Answer: Seek for the living water and let it cleanse the Earth.’ The pattern of this Coda is that the questions and their answers are rooted in each of the 12 Rules. The intention is admirable, but the outcome is rather abstruse and pretty unconvincing. It might appear that Christian truths are endorsed here and there, but so are bits of Taoism and other religious hocus pocus.

And that was that. I still have my Pen of Light. I haven’t written anything with it since. But, even if I don’t, it helped me find the words to properly close this book. I hope that my writing has proved useful to you. I hope it has revealed things you knew that you didn’t know you knew. I hope that you can straighten up, sort out your family, and bring peace and prosperity to your community. What will you write with your pen of light?

In conclusion.

This article was not what I originally had in mind – I thought it would be a simple, snappy review. Instead, it rather ran away with me to the tune of 19,000 words! Also it has turned out to be a rather unconventional review-cum-synopsis-cum-précis with a multitude of quotations. When I read a book, I invariably underline the text and scribble in the margins [in pencil and only in my personal copy] anything that catches my eye and tweaks my brain. On this occasion I have transferred these gleanings onto my computer. This exercise is valuable because it makes me think a little harder – I’m not sure you will find it so helpful.

Let me make three concluding remarks about this book. First, 12 Rules for Life was a joy to study. I found its 400-odd pages both engaging and educational. It is well written and generally easy to read. It contains several eye-opening truths, some uncomfortable challenges and a few memorable anecdotes. Peterson is a great communicator. He is assured, outspoken and charismatic – watch anything of his on the internet if you doubt that assessment. And those personal qualities are partly why he is the social media darling of 2018 – if only preachers were so consistently engaging. But it’s not only his style of presentation, it’s also his content, what he has to say. He is a bold man with a bold set of messages. He pulls no punches, he takes no prisoners. He angrily refuses to kowtow to ‘compelled speech’, such as gender-fluid language, yet he can also weep at the plight of feckless young men. He is a driven man – people like that. His discourses are certainly a change from that dull, dithering relativism that is our regular intake of cultural gruel. It is small wonder that his book has sat near the top of the best-sellers’ list since its publication.

Second, what about this book’s content? 12 Rules for Life is not a Christian book. That’s because its author is not a card-carrying Christian, at least, not in the traditional evangelical sense. Nor was that genre ever the author’s target. There is no doubt that he has a deep respect for the Bible, its teachings and its ethics. He quotes from it more than from any other resource. But he is also enamoured with other gods, including Taoism, Darwinism and humanism. Yet a book which majors on topics like, God, original sin, meaning, sacrifice, husband-wife marriage, suffering, truth and family should find some sympathy and a willing readership among Christians, and others. He chimes with many biblical ethics. Nevertheless, evangelical Christians tend to have a default response to an outsider talking ‘their talk’ – they find fault, easily. I’m a strong advocate of tight Christian doctrine and big-hearted charity, but I also know that there are badly-taught believers out there, as well as those sitting on their outsized hobby horses. I am not suggesting we rashly esteem Peterson to be that hoped-for Christian (though he may object at such a snub), what I am proposing is that we regard him, at least, as a co-belligerent, a ‘morally-sensitive’ man, and thank God that he is raising some fundamental issues among a wider audience than anyone else currently is. With our backs to the wall, evangelical Christians can unkindly consider ourselves to be the only guardians of truth. Yet there are many truths which are not specifically Christian – think of science and ornithology and love and motorcycle maintenance and . . . Even so, I willing concede that the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are to be found in the Lord Jesus Christ (Colossians 2:3).

What Peterson may have inadvertently done for us is a sort of pre-evangelism, whetting people’s appetite to think about some of the great questions of life and death. For that we should be thankful. What he has also hopefully done is give us a bolder steer on these issues and a tougher confidence to speak out – those practices are well worth imitating. So let’s not be too hastily dismissive of Peterson and his labours simply because he does not tick all of our ecclesiastical boxes. I suspect that many readers of great literature, such as Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, have been unknowingly softened up for the message of the Cross. It’s a big world out there, men and women. Let’s practise some big Christian charity. But none of this is to disregard the dangers of Peterson’s position. As I have written elsewhere, ‘The ethical and practical stance of the ‘morally sensitive’ is essentially man-made, it is a derived conduct without any specifically coherent framework. It is often the endorsement of that attractive Christian morality, but detached from the essential spurs of Christian faith and divine energy. It is reminiscent of the Enlightenment’s doomed attempt at Christian virtue without embracing Christian truth – a wanting the fruits without the roots.’ At base level, Peterson’s stance is one of moral rearmament – turn over a new leaf, pull yourself up by your bootstraps. Maybe, just maybe, Peterson will come into a full-orbed understanding of true Christianity. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Third, I was particularly taken with some of his recurring themes. For example, ‘wilful blindness’ [spelled, ‘willful’ throughout the book] is one of my traits. I always have a long ‘to-do’ list, but some less attractive projects never get included. ‘Life is suffering’ is only too apparent, not only for our over-indulged, comfortable selves in the West, but for all people, everywhere. What about the charge to ‘set your own house in order first’? I’ve recently finished a long and drawn out house renovation, but I know the true meaning of Peterson’s slogan, and it’s challenging. ‘Dominance hierarchy’ is a phenomenon I acknowledge and a strategy that I have played, though thankfully less so since retirement has taken me out of the competitive workplace. And what about ‘Cain and Abel’, who crop up unexpectedly at least eight times? Theirs was a top news story then, and still is. Theirs was the horrors of fratricidal murder as the epitome of global violence and the affliction of the innocent. ‘Adam and Eve’ are equally-cited stars too. History and the state of the world make no sense without these, our shameful primogenitors. They deserve their principal billing. And those two cracking chapters, the one on raising children and their discipline (Rule 5) and the other on men-women relationships (Rule 11), deserve to be published singly and distributed among church folk, and wider.

So, the book in one summary sentence: Peterson’s diagnosis of the human condition is often brilliant and spot on, but his remedy is often inadequate and ineffective – the former is manful, while the latter is Christless. I am not saying that 12 Rules for Life is essential reading for everyone. Nevertheless, we should be aware of its existence and its basic thrust simply because we live in a literate society and because of the book’s current impact. Still, you don’t need to buy it just for those lesser purposes. But if you are tempted to purchase and read it, don’t pay the cover price of £20 – I bought mine on Amazon for half that. And, no, you cannot borrow my copy – it’s too spoiled by my under-linings and scribbled notes. But if you do go ahead, I’m almost prepared to guarantee that you will find reading it different, fascinating and worth the effort. And if you think it’s all postmodern stoicism and mythological claptrap, contact me!

This is the third part of a review of 12 Rules for Life by Jordan Peterson. John Ling is a  retired lecturer at Aberystwyth University and author of a number of books on medical ethics. His personal website can be found at www.johnling.co.uk

The post Review: 12 Rules for Life (Part 3) appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

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RULE 4. Compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not to who someone else is today

‘No matter how good you are at something, or how you rank your accomplishments, there is someone out there who makes you look incompetent.’ So begins this chapter. Peterson reckons we have “a critical internal voice”. ‘It condemns our mediocre efforts’, but it presupposes that we all have standards, though ‘we are not equal in ability or outcome and never will be – the winners don’t take all, but they take the most, and the bottom is not a good place to be.’ ‘Worthlessness is the default position’ and they are wilfully blind. Yet ‘… a whole generation of social psychologists recommended “positive illusions” as the only reliable route to mental health. Their credo? Let a lie be your umbrella.’ ‘Things are so terrible that only delusion can save you.’ What a dismal philosophy! Peterson offers an alternative approach. ‘If the internal voice makes you doubt the value of your endeavours – or your life, or life itself – perhaps you should stop listening.’ Don’t talk yourself into irrelevance.

‘Standards of better or worse are not illusory or unnecessary.’how

‘The idea of a value-free choice is a contradiction in terms. Value judgements are a precondition for action. If something can be done at all, it can be done better or worse. If there was no better and worse, nothing would be worth doing. There would be no value and, therefore, no meaning.’ ‘Success’ and ‘failure’ are generally understood but they are not absolutes, they are modified an generalized in our complex world. Similarly, there are many games or vocations – if one does not suit, then try another.’

We rarely play just one game – we have career, friends, family, projects, sports and so on. Yet if you are winning at all of them it might mean you’re not doing anything new and challenging. As youngsters we inevitably compared ourselves to others because standards are necessary. As we grow up we become increasingly individual and we compare ourselves less with others – ‘This is what gives existence its full and necessary meaning.’

But Peterson asks, ‘Who are you?’ Maybe you think you know, but maybe you don’t. We are neither master nor slave. You have a nature. ‘Before you can articulate your own standards of value, you must see yourself as a stranger – and then you must get to know yourself.’ For example, do you ask yourself what you want? You should. You should determine your moral obligations to yourself and to others. ‘Dare … to be dangerous. Dare to be truthful. Dare to articulate yourself and express … what would really justify your life.’

How do you need to be spoken to? What do you need to take from people? What are you putting up with, or pretending to like, from duty or obligation? Consult your resentment. It’s a revelatory emotion, for all its pathology. It’s part of the evil triad: arrogance, deceit and resentment.

— Peterson call them the underworld Trinity, I call them my ADR. And the clinimax? ‘Be cautious when you’re comparing yourself to others.’ You are unique with you own particular embedded problems. ‘You must decide what to let go, and what to pursue.’

Now a sub-section on eyes. ‘Our eyes are always pointing at things we are interested in. We must see, but to see, we must aim, so we are always aiming.’ ‘We live within a framework that defines the present as eternally lacking and the future as eternally better. If we did not see things this way, we would not act at all.’ ‘But we can see. But we can aim too high. Or too low. Or too chaotically.’ What must we do? ‘The first step, perhaps is to take stock. Who are you?’ Just as a prospective house purchaser needs a housing inspector, you need an internal critic. You first need to know what’s broken before you can fix it — and according to Peterson, ‘… you’re broken.’ Yes, the report is not good, it’s long and painful. But cheer up, ‘The future is like the past. But there is a crucial difference. The past is fixed, but the future – it could be better.’ ‘Ask yourself: is there one thing that exists in disarray in your life or your situation that you could, and would, set straight? Could you do it now? Ask honestly and with humility. That’s no simple matter. What bit of chaos might I eradicate at home, on my desk, in my kitchen, tonight, so that the stage is set for a better play? Aim small. And you do the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. Do that for three years, and your life will be entirely different.’ Remember, ‘What you aim at determines what you see.’ ‘Seeing is very difficult, so you must choose what to see, and let the rest go.’

‘You might think, “I will make a different plan. I will try to want whatever it is that would make my life better.”‘ ‘But you must genuinely want your life to improve. You can’t fool your implicit perceptual structures. Not even a bit. You have to scour your psyche.’ ‘This is not theology. It’s not mysticism. It’s empirical knowledge.’ ‘We only see what we aim at.’ ‘What might we see?’ We might see morality and ethics and ‘Even older and deeper than ethics, however, is religion.’ ‘Religion is instead about proper behaviour.’ ‘You cannot aim yourself at anything if you are completely undisciplined and untutored. It is therefore necessary and desirable for religions to have a dogmatic element. What good is a value system that does not provide a stable structure?’ Peterson reinforces this notion by quoting from the non-canonical Gospel of Thomas (ugh!). He continues,

Does that mean that what we see is dependent on our religious beliefs? Yes! You might object, “But I’m an atheist.” No, you’re not. You’re simply not an atheist in your actions. You can only find out what you actually believe by watching how you act. You simply don’t know what you believe before that. You are too complex to understand yourself.

We then move on to ‘The Bible is, for better or worse, the foundational document of Western civilization.’ ‘Its careful, respectful study can reveal things to us about what we believe and how we do and should act that can be discovered in almost no other manner.’ This is psychological dynamite. Sadly, it’s not theological dynamite. Peterson sees little unity between the Old Testament and the New Testament and the God of both. The former is harsh and the latter is loving – this is Sunday school naivety. Nevertheless, ‘… you decide to act as if existence might be justified by its goodness – if only you behaved properly. And it is that decision, that declaration of existential faith that allows you to overcome nihilism, and resentment, and arrogance.’ ‘It [faith] is instead the realisation that the tragic irrationalities of life must be counterbalanced by an equally irrational commitment to the essential goodness of Being.’

And how can you do that?

You might start by not thinking. This doesn’t mean “make yourself stupid”. It means the opposite. It means instead that you must quit manoeuvring and calculating and conniving and scheming and enforcing and demanding and avoiding and ignoring and punishing. It means you must place your old strategies aside. It means, instead, that you must pay attention, as you may never have paid attention before.

‘Focus on your surroundings.’ Ask yourself three questions: ‘”What is it that is bothering me?” “Is that something I could fix?” and “Would I actually be willing to fix it?”‘ ‘If you find that the answer is “no” … then look elsewhere. Aim lower.’ Search for something that bothers you … and then fix it. ‘That might be enough for the day.’

‘What do you know about yourself? You are, on the one hand, the most complex thing in the entire universe, and on the other, someone who can’t even set the clock on your microwave. Don’t over-estimate your self-knowledge.’

Align yourself, in your soul, with Truth and the Highest Good. There is habitable order to establish and beauty to bring into existence. There is evil to overcome, suffering to ameliorate, and yourself to better. It is this, furthermore, that is communicated by those eternally confusing, glowing stanzas from Christ’s Sermon on the Mount [Luke 12:22-34], the essence, in some sense of the wisdom of the New Testament. The Sermon on the Mount outlines the true nature of man, and the proper aim of mankind: concentrate on the day, so that you can live in the present, and attend completely and properly to what is right in from of you. Do that only after you have determined to sacrifice whatever it is that must be sacrificed so that you can pursue the highest good.

‘Realization is dawning. You are discovering who you are, and what you want, and what you are willing to do. You are less concerned with the actions of other people, because you have plenty to do yourself. Now, your trajectory is heavenward. That makes you hopeful. Ask, and ye shall receive. Knock, and the door will open. If you ask, as if you want, and knock, as if you want to enter, you will be offered the chance to improve your life, a little; a lot; completely’. ‘Compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not to who someone else is today.’

RULE 5. Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them.

This is an engrossing chapter on childrearing, not least because most of us parents have struggled with that task, and all of us have been on its receiving end, for better or worse. Peterson has probably seen more bad parents than most, chiefly those who dare not say “No” to their disobedient little treasures. And he gives a few hellish examples, including the offspring of a psychologist! Not saying “No” provides no reasonable boundaries for the youngster. It’s a looming disaster for child, parents, family and society. Some mothers have a penchant for objecting to requests from men under the guise of gender equality, but attend to every whim of their darling boy. Peterson concludes, ‘The future mates of such boys have every reason to hate their mothers-in-law. Respect for women? That’s for other boys, other men – not for their dear sons.’

What about bedtimes? Peterson calculated that a father who suffered 45 minutes of bedtime tantrums every night was spending about six working weeks each year ‘fighting ineffectually and miserably with his son.’ The outcome? ‘Resentment will inevitably build.’ Where does the fault lie and what can be done? Some say, ‘There are no bad children, there are only bad parents.’ This according to Peterson is ‘… dangerously and naively romantic. It’s too one-sided.’ So, it must be society’s fault – but that conclusion ‘explains nothing and solves no problems.’ Yet its ideologues call for “cultural restructuring”. But that destructs our stabilizing traditions by which we have slowly learned from our ancestors to live together and organise complex societies. ‘We tear them down at our peril.’ ‘Every person’s private trouble cannot be solved by a social revolution.’

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the eighteenth-century French philosopher, was an ardent proponent of this idea that children are innocent – if only we could recapture our pre-civilised state and become the “noble savage”. You might want to recall that this awful father abandoned his five children to orphanages. Peterson gives Rousseau’s ideals short shrift: ‘But human beings are evil, as well as good, and the darkness that dwells forever in our souls is also there in no small part in our younger selves.’ ‘Children must be shaped and informed, or they cannot thrive.’ ‘Children are damaged when those charged with their care, afraid of any conflict or upset, no longer dare to correct them, and leave them without guidance. Such children are chronically ignored by their peers. This is because they are no fun to play with.’ Such poorly-socialized children make tremendous demands on potential carers, so much so that the latter are quite likely to ignore them and respond to “nicer” children. And so the cycle continues.

Parents want to be loved by their children, but fear this will be lost if they chastise them.

They want their children’s friendship above all, and are willing to sacrifice respect to get it. This is not good. A child will have many friends, but only two parents – if that – and parents are more, not less, than friends. Friends have very limited authority to correct. Every parent therefore needs to learn to tolerate the momentary anger … after necessary corrective action has been taken.

‘It is an act of responsibility to discipline a child. Proper discipline requires effort.’ Any suggestion that this combination of responsibility and difficulty is damaging to the child is readily accepted – it lets the parents off the hook, but, ‘It’s lazy, cruel and inexcusable.’ ‘We assume that rules will irremediably inhibit … intrinsic creativity of our children.’ Peterson replies that real creativity is ‘shockingly rare’ and ‘strict limitations facilitate rather than inhibit creative achievement.’ Rules and structure are not harmful. What is harmful is a toddler who repeatedly strikes his mother. Yet Peterson does not find such behaviour surprising – ‘Violence, after all, is no mystery. It’s peace that’s the mystery. Violence is the default.’ ‘Children hit first because aggression is innate and second because aggression facilitates desire.’ ‘How hard can I hit Mommy? Until she objects. Given that, correction is better sooner than later.’ But parents are rarely ready for wisdom from others – it’s a fundamental rule of psychology and daily life: ‘There is just no talking to parents about their children – until they are ready to listen.’ That’s true and it too bad! And, ‘Scared parents think that a crying child is always sad or hurt. This is simply not true. Anger is one of the most common reasons for crying. Anger-crying and fear-or-sadness crying do not look the same. They also don’t sound the same.’

‘Modern parents are terrified of two frequently juxtaposed words: discipline and punish.’ They must be handled with care. ‘It’s not that it’s impossible to discipline with reward. Drawing on the seminal “operant conditioning” work of B F Skinner, the American behaviourist, Peterson demonstrates how to get a toddler to lay the table – you break the task into simple pieces and pat him on the head as each stage is mastered – that’s the reward. If the target is to have a more communicative teenage daughter then whenever she shares, you stop texting and listen – that’s the reward. ‘We need to learn, because we’re stupid and easily damaged.’ And we need positive as well as negative emotions: ‘… they’re all required to keep us alive and thriving.’ Peterson uses princess Aurora from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty to illustrate the foolishness of her parent’s desire to protect her from anything negative – the upshot is that it does not protect her, it makes her weak. But why should a child be subject to parental dictates? Every child is dependent upon parental care and must listen to and obey reasonable and coherent rules. ‘Every child should also be taught to comply gracefully with the expectations of civil society.’ It’s a case of reward and punishment. And here is a piece of Peterson classic wisdom: ‘There’s a tight window of opportunity for this, as well, so getting it right quickly matters. If a child has not been taught to behave properly by the age of FOUR [my emphasis], it will forever be difficult for him or her to make friends.’

Next, a big question: ‘How, then, should children be disciplined? Peterson answers, ‘This is a very difficult question, because children (and parents) differ vastly in their temperaments. Some children are agreeable. Others are tougher-minded and more independent. They can be challenging, non-compliant and stubborn. Some children are desperate for rules and structure. Others … are immune to demands for even minimal necessary order.’ Peterson offers some ideas. First principle, rules should not be multiplied beyond necessity. Limit the rules to, for example, ‘Do not bite, kick or hit, except in self-defence. Do not torture or bully other children. Eat in a civilised and thankful manner. Learn to share. Pay attention when spoken to by adults. Go to sleep properly and peaceably. Take care of your belongings. Be good company. Act so that other people are happy you’re around. A child who knows [and presumably obeys] these rules will be welcome everywhere.’ Second principle, use the least force necessary to enforce these rules. ‘This must be established experimentally, starting with the smallest possible intervention. Some children will be turned to stone by a glare. A verbal command will stop another. A thumb-cocked flick of the index finger on a small hand might be necessary for some. Such a strategy is particularly useful in public places such as restaurants.’ ‘To ensure that such [good] things happen, you have to discipline your children carefully and effectively – and to do that you have to know something about rewards and about punishment, instead of shying away from the knowledge.’

And what about physical punishment? Ooh, err! Peterson answers those who maintain that there is no excuse for physical punishment. First, some misbehaviours, such as theft and assault, deserve sanction. Second, such sanctions are typically physical – deprivation of liberty, time out. Third, some misbehaviours must be halted immediately before disaster occurs – poking a fork into an electrical socket, running across a busy road. He writes, ‘The answer is simple: whatever will stop it fastest, within reason. Because the alternative could be fatal.’ Fourth, penalties become more severe as children get older. ‘Those unconstrained four-year-olds, in turn, are often those who are unduly aggressive, by nature, at age two.’ It is to foster ‘… the delusion that teenage devils magically emerge from once-innocent little child-angels. You’re not doing your child any favours by overlooking any misbehaviour.’ Fifth, ‘What no means, in the final analysis is always “If you continue to do that, something you will not like will happen to you.” Otherwise it means nothing’ ‘And what about the idea that hitting a child merely teaches them to hit? First: No. Wrong. Too simple. For starters, “hitting” is a very unsophisticated word to describe the disciplinary act of an effective parent.’ ‘Magnitude matters – and so does context and … timing.’ At the end of Peterson’s range of corrections is this:

For the child who is pushing the limits in a spectacularly inspired way, a swat across the backside can indicate requisite seriousness on the part of a responsible parent. There are some situations in which even that will not suffice. And if you’re not thinking such things through, then you are not acting responsibly as a parent. You’re leaving the dirty work to someone else, who will be much dirtier doing it.

Peterson’s third principle is, parents should come in pairs. ‘Raising young children is demanding and exhausting.’ Mistakes are inevitable. Having someone else to observe, step in and discuss is a bonus. Fourth principle, parents should understand their own capacity to be harsh, vengeful arrogant, resentful, angry and deceitful. ‘Very few people set out, consciously, to do a terrible job as father or mother, but bad parenting happens all the time. This is because people have a great capacity for evil, as well as good – and because they remain wilfully blind to that fact.’ ‘Beware. There are toxic families everywhere. They make no rules and limit no misbehaviour. The parents lash out randomly and unpredictably.’ And the fifth principle: ‘Parents have a duty to act as proxies for the real world. It is the primary duty of parents to make their children socially desirable.’

Finally, ‘… you make your children behave. You take responsibility for their discipline. You take responsibility for the mistakes you will inevitably make. You can apologize, when you are wrong, and learn to do better.’

You love your kids, after all. If their actions make you dislike them, think what an effect they will have on other people. Those other people will punish them, severely, by omission or commission. Don’t allow that to happen. Clear rules make for secure children and calm, rational parents. Clear rules and proper discipline help the child, and the family, and society establish, maintain and expand the order that is all that protects us from chaos and the terrors of the underworld where everything is uncertain, anxiety-provoking, hopeless and depressing. There are no greater gifts that a committed and courageous parent can bestow.

‘Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them.’

RULE 6. Set you house in perfect order before you criticize the world.

The shortest chapter of the book, just 13 pages long. It begins with the Sandy Hook and Columbine schools young killers who judge and curse life, the system, and people as evil. ‘Nothing means anything anymore. Kill mankind. No one should survive,’ they say. But according to Peterson, ‘Life is in truth very hard. Everyone is destined for pain and slated for destruction. Sometimes suffering is clearly the result of a personal fault such as wilful blindness, poor decision-making or malevolence. Whose fault is it, then?’ Leo Tolstoy certainly had it bad and he questioned the value of human existence. How to escape from the conclusion that life is meaningless and evil? Try as he might Tolstoy could raise only four answers. First, childishly ignore the problem. Second, pursue mindless pleasure. Third, trudge on regardless. Fourth, destroy life, by mass murder and suicide. Here again is the Cain and Abel narrative as the murderous forerunner, the ‘first act of post-Edenic history.’

‘Why? Why is there so much suffering and cruelty?’, Peterson asks. Well, perhaps it really is God’s doing – or the fault of blind, pointless fate. ‘Cain, in his rage, kills Abel. But he destroys Abel primarily to spite God.’ This is taking vengeance to the ultimate extreme. ‘But people emerge from terrible pasts to do good, and not evil.’ The gulag-imprisoned Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn is a notable example. He could have become resentful and bitter. But the great writer ‘… did not allow his mind to turn towards vengeance and destruction. He opened his eyes, instead. Solzhenitsyn pored over the details of his life … and … he let what was unnecessary and harmful die, and resurrected himself.’ The ancient Hebrews were not such good virtuous models: ‘As their fortunes rise, success breeds pride and arrogance.’ Then they would ‘… repent, at length, blaming their misfortune on their failure to adhere to God’s word. They rebuild their state, and the cycle begins again.’

‘If you are suffering – well, that’s the norm. People are limited and life is tragic. If your suffering is unbearable, however, and you are starting to become corrupted, here’s something to think about.’ ‘Consider your circumstances. Start small.’ Think about your bitterness and resentment, how you treat your family, bad habits, responsibilities ducked and so on. In other words, ‘Have you cleaned up your life?’ and ‘If the answer is no, here’s something to try: Start to stop doing what you know to be wrong. Start stopping today. Don’t waste time questioning how you know what you’re doing is wrong, if you are certain that it is. Every person is too complex to know themselves completely. So simply stop. Don’t blame capitalism, the radical left, or the iniquity of your enemies. Don’t reorganise the state until you have ordered your own experience. Have some humility. If you cannot bring peace to your household, how dare you try to rule a city? Watch what happens over the days and weeks. After some months and years of diligent effort, your life will become simpler and less complicated. You will become stronger and less bitter.’ ‘Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world.’ 

This article is to be continued.

This is a second part of a review of 12 Rules for Life by Jordan Peterson. John Ling is a  retired lecturer at Aberystwyth University and author of a number of books on medical ethics. His personal website can be found at www.johnling.co.uk

The post Review: 12 Rules for Life (Part 2) appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

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Jordan Bernt Peterson has recently become a YouTube phenomenon and a publisher’s dream. He has hundreds of YouTube films that have been watched well over 100 million times. This, his second book, (the first was Maps of Meaning: The Architecture of Belief) has sold truckloads of copies and topped the bestseller lists since publication. Who is he? He is a 55-year-old Canadian from small-town Northern Alberta, ‘born Christian’, husband of Tammy, father of Mikhaila and Julian and currently a clinical psychologist, cultural critic and professor of psychology at the University of Toronto.

The Foreword

The book starts with an 18-page Foreword by Norman Doidge, a chum and fellow shrink of Peterson. It’s a lesson in both creative writing and moral insight. Here are some of its juicy quotations.

‘People don’t clamour for rules, even in the Bible.’

‘We are ambivalent about rules, even when we know they are good for us.’

‘God didn’t give Moses “The Ten Suggestions,” he gave Commandments.’

‘But the story of the golden calf also reminds us that without rules we quickly become slaves to our passions – and there is nothing freeing about that.’

‘. . .the best rules do not ultimately restrict us but instead facilitate our goals and make for fuller, freer lives.’

‘We all have to deal with the unknown, and we all attempt to move from chaos to order.’

‘One of the most important themes of this book, is “set your own house in order” first.’

‘He [Peterson] alerted his students to . . . what every slightly worn-out adult knows, that life is suffering.’

‘It is because we are born human that we are guaranteed a good dose of suffering.’

‘. . .what he is saying meets a deep and unarticulated need. And that is because alongside our wish to be free of rules, we all search for structure.’

‘. . . millennials [are] the first generation to have been so thoroughly taught two seemingly contradictory ideas about morality, simultaneously.’

‘The first idea or teaching is that morality is relative, at best a personal “value judgment.” And the second idea is that the . . . emphasis on tolerance is so paramount that for many people one of the worst character flaws a person can have is to be “judgemental”.’

‘So right alongside relativism, we find the spread of nihilism and despair, and also the opposite of relativism: the blind certainty offered by ideologies that claim to have an answer to everything.’

‘Where the relativist is filled with uncertainty, the ideologue is the very opposite. He or she is hyper-judgmental and censorious . . .’

‘. . . human beings, by their nature, have a proclivity to make rules, laws and customs. The idea that human life can be free of moral concerns is a fantasy.’

‘And the foremost rule is that you take responsibility for your own life. Period.’

‘Because if you don’t reach for them [your demanding rules and ideals] it is certain you will never feel that your life has meaning. And perhaps because, as unfamiliar and strange as it sounds, in the deepest part of our psyche, we all want to be judged.’

This is fascinating and instructive stuff. Who could disagree? This Foreword is a great appetizer to the entrée.

Overture

In this section, Peterson explains the genesis of the book. It started in 2012 with a discussion website called Quora. There, his answer to the posed question ‘What makes life more meaningful?’ became a minor hit. To the question ‘What are the most valuable things everyone should know?’, he wrote a list of rules or maxims and it became a major hit. In 2013, he decided to film and upload his university and public lectures – millions and millions have since watched them. He developed an obsession with the great myths and religious stories of the past and their moral content. In other words, he focused not on a scientific, descriptive worldview, but rather on how a human being should act in a world of order and chaos. Order is social structure, explored territory and typically portrayed as masculine, whereas chaos is the new and unexpected and regarded as feminine – in his mind a sort of yang and yin. Radio broadcasts expanded his thinking and a book was muted to be centred on his Quora list. He was fascinated about the nuclear stand-off of the Cold War – why would people risk global destruction for their belief systems? Shared belief systems enable people to communicate and cooperate while they also regulate and control us. Such value systems stabilize human interaction and in their absence people simply cannot operate, nihilism beckons. So far, so good. And then there is a weird section on ‘Being’ with a capital “B”, à la Martin Heidegger plus a somewhat equivocal footnote, which defines the term as ‘the totality of human experience’. And there are Peterson’s dreams – ‘My dream placed me at the centre of Being itself, and there was no escape.’ Come back, Jordan. And thankfully he does. This book was originally envisaged as short essays tackling his 40 answers on Quora and his publisher accepted that idea, but in reality they became 25 and then 16 and finally the current 12. See, all writing benefits from severe pruning. And the title? It reflects our need for standards and values. We require routine and tradition – that’s order. On the other hand, chaos can swamp us, so we drown. Both can become excessive and that’s not good. Therefore, ‘we need to stay on the straight and narrow path. Each of the twelve rules of this book – and their accompanying essays – therefore provide a guide to being there. “There” is the dividing line between order and chaos. It’s there that we find the meaning that justifies life and its inevitable suffering.’ This is the way, in Peterson’s words, ‘to live a meaningful life.’

Each chapter of the 12 Rules for Life is about 30 pages long. They vary in complexity and application – several sections are quite exceptional. My aim is not to critique their entire content, but rather to note what I found interesting, pertinent and sometimes disagreeable, and thus to produce a decent overview of Peterson’s work. There are scores of exact quotations from the book – above all I wanted to let Peterson ‘speak’. Other segments are my précis. And I’ve avoided tediously citing chapter and verse for each. I am acutely aware that this article is mine, what I found noteworthy – of course, others will read the book differently and draw their own conclusions. Whatever – let’s go!

RULE 1: Stand up straight with your shoulders back.

This chapter begins with his famous and oft-repeated lobster analogy. The crustacean’s neurons and brain are comparatively simple and not unlike a wren’s or even a human being’s in structure and function. Peterson’s inference is that all such species inhabit a dominance hierarchy and because territory matters conflict is inevitable. The trick is how to establish dominance, while risking the least amount of possible fighting and damage – lobsters do it, and so do we. Moreover, whether a lobster is confident or cringing depends on its neural ratio of serotonin to octopamine hormones – the winners have a high ratio. Serotonin makes a lobster flex and look tall and dangerous – depressed human beings are often prescribed selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. Prozac even cheers up lobsters!

And it’s winner-takes-all in the world of lobsters and in human societies. This is the brutal principle of uneven distribution. It occurs in the financial realm – the top 1% own as much as the bottom 50%. In the scientific realm – most papers are published by a small group of researchers. Relatively few musicians and authors are commercially successful. Most orchestral music performed publicly is by Bach, Beethoven, Mozart and Tchaikovsky. And 90% of communication uses just 500 words. This phenomenon is known as Price’s Law, after Derek J. de Solla Price’s observations in 1963, though Vilfredo Pareto, the Italian polymath, had noted it a century earlier. It is also called the Matthew Principle (Matthew 25:29) after a seemingly harsh saying of Christ. The ultimate outcome is that the top females flirt and mate with the top males. Yet the dominant males need their lower-status compatriots to continue the hierarchy – the obvious political ploy is the ancient art of baby-kissing. Why is any of this relevant? Because dominance hierarchies are primeval and because neural structures and neurochemistry are how the world processes information about status and society.

There are three erroneous mistakes we make about nature. First, nature is static – no, it is both static and dynamic. It is a truism of biology that evolution is conservative – bats’ wings, whales’ fins and human hands are structurally alike. Evolution works largely through variation and natural selection. Variation occurs through gene-shuffling and random mutation. But what exactly are ‘nature/natural’ and ‘the environment’? Nature is both static and dynamic. The environment – the nature that selects – itself transforms. The yin and yang are akin to chaos and order, which in turn are interchangeable – there is nothing so certain that it cannot vary. OK, the Christian will interject that the nature and attributes of God are immutable (Hebrews 13:8). Nevertheless, so the theory goes, nature selects on the basis of fitness, the matching of biological attribute to environmental demand. But nature is not simply dynamic either. There is variation – leaves change more quickly than trees, trees change more quickly than forests. It’s chaos within order, within chaos, within higher order. The most real order is not necessarily the most easily seen but rather the most unchanging – dominance hierarchy cannot be ‘seen’ at all. Second, nature is not romantic. The environment is not pristine and paradisal – it is no longer Eden. It consists of malaria, guinea worms, droughts and AIDS. Third, nature is segregated from social constructs – no, a longer lasting attribute is more natural because it has been selected more often, permanence is the evidence. And dominance hierarchy has been around for ages – it’s permanent and real and not merely a human construct. Peterson maintains that it is older than trees.

And our position in the dominance hierarchy is regulated by a master control system, which integrates our values, thoughts, actions, and so on. Thus, when we are defeated, our posture droops, we face the ground, we feel threatened anxious and weak, just like a losing lobster – we can become chronically depressed. Low serotonin equals decreased confidence, more pain, less happiness, more illness and a shorter lifespan for humans and crustaceans. This master controller, this primordial calculator, monitors your position in society. If you are top grade, then you are an overwhelming success at work and play – serotonin flows, you are calm and confident, you stand tall and straight. If you are of lowly status then your home, food, physical and mental conditions are terrible – ‘the physical demands of emergency preparedness will wear you down in every way’ – stress is a common outcome. But the master counter can go wrong – erratic sleeping and eating habits are frequent causes of malfunction. Peterson asks his clinical clients first about their sleep and then about their breakfast. Malfunctions can create feedback loops which may be destructive and can lead to mental illness – addiction to alcohol and drugs are common loops demanding more and more of the stuff – a hangover is alcohol withdrawal and the alcoholic ‘cures’ it with more booze. Similarly with agoraphobia – anxiety-induced retreats make the self smaller and the world larger and more dangerous. And with depression – feeling useless and burdensome leads to withdrawal which leads to feelings of more uselessness and burdensomeness. Yet there are some people who can’t fight back. Perhaps they are physically weaker. And some won’t fight back because they are often compassionate and self-sacrificing by temperament and thus often naive and exploitable – some self-protective anger is necessary to defend themselves. ‘If you can bite, you generally don’t have to.’ People who are pushed around need anger to spur them to say or do something to hold the tyranny at bay – such actions protect everyone from the corruption of society.

Sometimes the bullied need awakening to see the seeds of evil in themselves before their fears can decrease and their self-respect increase – ‘. . . there is very little difference between the capacity for mayhem and destruction, integrated, and strength of character. This is one of the most difficult lessons of life.’

‘Maybe you are a loser . . . if you slump around . . . people will assign you a lower status . . . your brain will not produce as much serotonin. This will make you become less happy, and more anxious and sad, and more likely to back down when you should stand up for yourself.’

But, ‘Circumstances change, and so can you.’ It’s the good fruit of Price’s Law. If your posture is poor you will feel small and defeated. ‘If you start to straighten up, then people will look at and treat you differently.’ [It’s why I often wear a suit and tie!] All this involves posture but also spirit. ‘You will rise to a challenge, instead of bracing for a catastrophe.’ ‘It means deciding to voluntarily transform the chaos of potential into the realities of habitable order.’ ‘It means willingly undertaking the sacrifices necessary to generate a productive and meaningful reality (it means acting to please God, in the ancient language).’ ‘Walk tall and gaze forthrightly ahead. Dare to be dangerous.’ ‘. . . let your light shine, so to speak, on the heavenly hill, and pursue your rightful destiny.’ ‘Then you may be able to accept the terrible burden of the World, and find joy.’ ‘Look for your inspiration to the victorious lobster.’ ‘Stand up straight, with your shoulders back.’ It’s good for lobsters, and for you, and me!

RULE 2: Treat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping.

Why don’t people take their pills? Apparently for every 100 people prescribed drugs, 33 don’t even bother to get them from the chemists and 34 don’t take them as directed. Yet if a vet prescribes treatment for your dog, you are scrupulous in following the instructions. Why? Peterson reckons it’s because people love their dogs, cats, ferrets, and so forth more than themselves. How come? To unravel this conundrum Peterson goes to the Book of Genesis – well, that’s a bit of an unexpected resource. In fact, much of this chapter is shot through with an analysis of Genesis 1-3.

His take on Genesis is not exactly orthodox, evangelical exegesis. Indeed, he considers there are two different, interwoven stories as a younger ‘Priestly’ (Genesis 1) and an older ‘Jawhist’ (Genesis 1-11) account. Yet he has some interesting comments. For example, of Genesis 1 he insists that ‘[God’s] speech is the fundamental creative force.’ It is the emergence of order from chaos. He takes us back to the pre-scientific age to demonstrate that reality then was less fact-based and more subjectively experienced, like a novel or a movie. So the scientific world is one of matter – atoms, molecules, etc., whereas the world of experience has different constituents – chaos and order and consciousness. The first two drive us to despair and a failure to care for ourselves, while consciousness mediates between the two and leads to ‘the only real way out.’ Chaos is the domain of ignorance, it’s unexplored territory, it’s horror, fairytale and myth. ‘It is in short, all those things and situations we neither know nor understand.’ It is ‘. . . also the formless potential from which the God of Genesis 1 called forth order using language at the beginning of time. It’s the same potential from which we, made in that Image, call forth the novel and ever-changing moments of our lives.’ By contrast, order is explored territory, the structure of society, tribe religion, hearth, home and country. In this domain things behave as God intended – we like to be there. Well, isn’t that a fascinating take on Genesis 1?

Yet chaos and order are not inanimate things, they are ‘. . . perceived, experienced and understood . . . as personalities.’ We see or perceive chaos and order before we see them as objects – ‘we see what things mean just as fast or faster than we see what they are.’ It’s because we have a “hyperactive agency detector” within us. These personalities include male and female, parent and child – they are deeply embedded categories for us. From a Darwinian perspective [and yes, I’m still a creationist], nature, reality, the environment is what selects. Our categories are far older than our species – our most basic category is sex, male and female. Order, according to Peterson, is symbolically associated with masculinity. At first glance, this looks like a dubious assertion. But it was/is men who build cities, who engineer bridges and chop down tree. But then Peterson makes this seemingly unwarranted jump with, ‘Order is God the Father, the eternal Judge, ledger-keeper and dispenser of rewards and punishments.’ I sort of get it, but it’s a leap too far for me. Then, of course, Peterson maintains that chaos is feminine. This is partly because all known things were born of mothers – chaos is mater, origin, source. Chaos is also the crushing force of sexual selection. ‘Women are choosy maters . . . most men do not meet female human standards.’ It is, ‘Women’s proclivity to say no . . . [that] has shaped . . . the creatures we are today.’

Peterson finds this female/male duality in all religions, from the Star of David, Osiris and Isis, Fuxi and Nuwa to Mary and the Christ. And it’s in our brains too. Thus, ‘Everyone understands order and chaos, world and underworld.’ Hence we understand the real and unreal stories like Sleeping Beauty and Pinocchio – we’ve all been in both places. And all this is not just descriptive, it drives us from the is to the ought. It drives us to act – it is the Way. And you were not expecting this, ‘It’s the same Way as that referred to by Christ in John 14:6. The same idea is expressed in Matthew 7:14.’ We eternally inhabit order surrounded by chaos – they are the transcendent environment of the living. ‘To straddle that fundamental duality is to be balanced: to have one foot firmly planted in order and security, and the other in chaos, possibility, growth and adventure.’ ‘That is where meaning is to be found.’ I think I get Peterson’s thesis. A life merely of order, being stable and unchanging is dull and boring and not enough. Yet a life of chaos is too much – to be continually swamped and overwhelmed is ghastly. To navigate between the two seems right.

The next subsection is headed The Garden of Eden. Here we have the Tree of Life, Adam and Eve, the serpent, Paradise and all the other accoutrements of Genesis. Peterson sees Paradise as ‘habitable order’ and the serpent in the ‘role of chaos’. There is some unorthodox exposition including whether our primogenitors were conscious or self-conscious and whether the apple was the transitioning agent, but Peterson’s denouement is this: ‘The worst of all possible snakes is the eternal human proclivity for evil.‘ When Adam and Eve wake up they discover some terrible things – they knew that they’re naked. Naked means to be vulnerable, to be judged for beauty and health, to be unprotected – their faults stood out. No wonder they hid – they were now unworthy to stand before God. And then the hideous consequences of the Fall – the serpent is cursed, childbirth will be painful and the man will rule over Eve, but will have to work and battle against thorns and thistles. Adam and Eve are finally banished from the Garden and into the horrors of history itself. And Peterson returns us to his original question – why do we give our dog medicine but deny it ourself? His conclusion is, ‘Why should anyone take care of anything as naked, ugly, ashamed, frightened, worthless, cowardly, resentful, defensive and accusatory as a descendent of Adam? Even if that thing, that being, is himself.’ That’s a pretty comprehensive answer! ‘No one is more familiar than you with all the ways your body and mind are flawed. No one has more reason to hold you in contempt . . . and by withholding something that might do you good, you can punish yourself for all your failings.’

And if that isn’t enough we are next fated to contemplate morality itself. Yes, it’s Good and Evil, what else? When Adam and Eve had their eyes opened they knew more than nakedness and toil – they also knew good and evil (Genesis 3:5). Dogs kill, but they are hungry, not evil. Man kills and he is evil. Why the difference? Because man has self-consciousness, we know where, why and how to hurt. ‘Only man will inflict suffering for the sake of suffering’ – that is Peterson’s best definition of evil. ‘And with this realization we have well-nigh full legitimization of the idea, very unpopular in modern intellectual circles, of Original Sin.’ ‘Human beings have a great capacity for wrongdoing. It’s an attribute that is unique in the world of life.’ ‘What then’, the author asks, ‘is to be done?’

God creates paradisal order from a precosmogonic chaos, by decree, by fiat. And we are in His image. Peterson poses a proposition: ‘perhaps it is not simply the emergence of self-consciousness and the rise of our moral knowledge of Death and the Fall that besets us and makes us doubt our worth. Perhaps it is instead our unwillingness – reflected in Adam’s shamed hiding – to walk with God, despite our fragility and propensity for evil.’ Are those the words of a psychologist or a preacher? And there is more. ‘The entire Bible is structured so that everything after the Fall – the history of Israel, the prophets, the coming of Christ – is presented as a remedy for that Fall, a way out of evil.’ ‘And this is the amazing thing: the answer is already implicit in Genesiis 1: to embody the Image of God – to speak out of chaos the Being (remember, ‘the totality of the human experience’) that is Good – but to do so consciously, of our own free choice. Back is the way forward.’

‘If we wish to take care of ourselves properly, we would have to respect ourselves – but we don’t, because we are – not least in our own eyes – fallen creatures. If we lived in Truth; if we spoke the Truth – then we could walk with God once again, and respect ourselves, and others, and the world. We might strive to set the world straight. We might orient it towards Heaven, where we would want people we cared for to dwell, instead of Hell, where our resentment and hatred would eternally sentence everyone.’

This is unexpected and strong stuff – without crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s of biblical theology, it is the essential message of the Word. True, Christ seems painfully absent, but wait – here he comes. Peterson continues, ‘It is true that the idea of virtuous self-sacrifice is deeply embedded in Western culture . . . Christ’s archetypal death exists as only an example of how to accept finitude, betrayal and tyranny heroically – how to walk with God despite the tragedy of self-conscious knowledge.’ Disappointingly, Peterson is regarding Christ as just the human Example, not as the only Mediator, the sin offering, the King, the Second Person of the Trinity. Though he would probably protest, Peterson’s Christianity is about being strong and nice – standing up and speaking up for yourself and for others. As he states, ‘. . . it is always wounded people who are holding it together. They deserve some genuine and heartfelt admiration for that.’ Thus, ‘You deserve some respect. You are, therefore, morally obliged to take care of yourself.’ Oh, where is the transcendent, the supernatural? I’m getting more and more disappointed. But wait! Here he comes again, ‘But every person is deeply flawed. Everyone falls short of the glory of God.’ That may read like true, supernatural religion, but it soon degenerates into ‘Strengthen the individual. Start with yourself.’ And then the evangelical expectation and hope rise again, ‘That would atone for your sinful nature and replace your shame and self-consciousness with the natural pride and forthright confidence of someone who had learned once again to walk with God in the Garden.’ And finally, ‘You could begin by treating yourself as if you were someone you were responsible for helping.’ I think that Peterson says more than ‘Live the good life and do your best’. But here is no mention of, or need for, a redeeming Saviour here. And without a Saviour there can be no salvation. I am profoundly disappointed.

RULE 3: Make friends with people who want the best for you.

Peterson grew up in Fairview, Alberta, a town of 3,000 people and 400 miles from the nearest city. It was bitterly cold for much of the year and dark too. As Peterson says, ‘Then your friends mattered. More than anything.’ He describes some of them. There was Chris, who ‘despite his intelligence and curiosity he was angry, resentful and without hope.’ And there was Ed, ‘a tall, smart, charming, good-looking kid.’ Both were on a downward trajectory – for them life was cars, parties with a premature cynicism and world-weariness, and their marijuana habit didn’t help. They took no responsibility for themselves or others. They did nothing. ‘Doing anything wasn’t cool.’ They rotted in Fairview, Alberta.

But Peterson and others wanted to be elsewhere – by the age of 12 they knew they would leave Fairview, Alberta. They wanted out and onto university and so they took personal responsibility and their opportunities. Peterson moved to Grande Prairie Regional College and met like-minded people who were aiming upward and that bolstered him too. Then onto Edmonton. Chris and Ed and their pot-head friend Carl visited Peterson there. They were without energy and ambition – they wanted nothing more than teenage kicks in this city of opportunities. Professionally, Peterson has long been deeply worried by such wanton young men. He asks, ‘What was it that made Chris and Carl and Ed unable (or, worse, perhaps, unwilling) to move or change their friendships and improve the circumstances of their lives?’ ‘For every individual driven to achieve, there is another who is indolent.’ Why do some continually choose friends, who, and places that, were not good for them? Freud called it ‘repetition compulsion’. And it often leads to a motivated refusal to learn.

But some people sometimes choose bad friends because they want to rescue them in order to proclaim the injustice of this world. And who can assess whether a potential friend truly wants help or is happy to exploit a willing helper? Moreover, the attempt to rescue someone can be fuelled by vanity and narcissism – Peterson illustrates this from Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground. Indeed, we all know inflated, self-important social workers and counsellors who need serious help themselves. And then Peterson throws this into the mix, ‘But Christ himself, you might object, befriended tax-collectors and prostitutes. How dare I cast aspersions on the motives of those trying to help? But Christ was the archetypal perfect man. And you’re you. How do you know that your attempts to pull someone up won’t instead bring them – or you – further down?’ Now that is a good question and Peterson backs it up with the well-documented scenario of the addition of a scrimshanker to a high-flying team. ‘What happens? Does the errant interloper immediately straighten up and fly right? No. Instead, the entire team degenerates. The delinquency spreads, not the stability. Down is a lot easier than up.’ And Peterson then brutally questions the motive of every good helper ‘who wants to do the right thing. But it’s also possible – and, perhaps, more likely – that you just want to draw attention to your inexhaustible reserves of compassion and good-will.’ Phew! And his advice? ‘Assume first that you are doing the easiest thing, and not the most difficult.’

And, ‘Before you help someone, you should find out why that person is in trouble. You shouldn’t merely assume that he or she is a noble victim of unjust circumstances and exploitation. In my experience – clinical and otherwise – it’s just never been that simple.’ ‘It is far more likely that a given individual has just decided to reject the path upward, because of its difficulty. Perhaps that should be your default assumption, when faced with such a situation.’ Peterson wonders whether he is being too harsh. Yet he still maintains that, ‘Vice is easy. Failure is easy too. It’s easier not to shoulder a burden. It’s easier not to think, and not to do, and not to care. It’s easier to put off until tomorrow what needs to be done today, and drown the upcoming months and years in today’s cheap pleasures.’ ‘Success: that’s the mystery. Virtue: that’s what’s inexplicable.’ So, what’s to be done? Peterson draws on the thinking of Carl Rogers, the famous humanistic psychologist, who believed that it is impossible to help a person who does not want to improve. The sad upshot can be, ‘Thus, I continue helping you, and console myself with my pointless martyrdom.’ Oh, how we can fool ourselves! And Peterson adds a caveat: ‘And none of this is a justification for abandoning those in real need to pursue your narrow, blind ambition, in case it has to be said.’

‘Here’s something to consider: If you have a friend whose friendship you wouldn’t recommend to your sister, or your father, or your son, why would you have such a friend for yourself?’ That is not perhaps a Christian motivation and Matthew 6:1-4 comes to mind.

‘Friendship is a reciprocal arrangement. You are not morally obliged to support someone who is making the world a worse place.’ Peterson insists that, ‘You should choose people who want things to be better, not worse. It’s a good thing, not a selfish thing, to choose people who are good for you. When you dare aspire upward, you reveal the inadequacy of the present and the promise of the future. You play Abel to their Cain. Don’t think it is easier to surround yourself with good healthy people than with bad unhealthy people. It’s not. Have some humility. Have some courage. Use your judgment, and protect yourself from too-uncritical compassion and pity.’ ‘Make friends with people who want the best for you.’

This review is to be continued.

This is the first part of a review of 12 Rules for Life by Jordan Peterson. John Ling is a  retired lecturer at Aberystwyth University and author of a number of books on medical ethics. His personal website can be found at www.johnling.co.uk

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I have often thought of what a fruitful well of encouragement has been tapped bu Christian writers since John Foxe first wrote his six volume martyrology, published in March 1563. What is there better in giving to the 21st century Christian both backbone and a broken and contrite heart? Such a necessary combination divine grace alone can create. But other similar books have been written and read with profit. One thinks of J. C. Ryle’s studies of the English Reformers burned to death under Queen Mary, Light From Old Times (Banner of Truth); or D’Aubigne’s classic, The Reformation in England (Banner of Truth); or Marcus Loane’s exemplary The Masters of the English Reformation (Banner of Truth) which book centres on the three leading lights of the period 1547-1556, that is Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley.

But at least 300 evangelical protestants were burnt alive during the reign of Mary. Young people, women (some of whom were pregnant), fishermen, farmers, people scattered throughout England and Wales and the Channel Islands were killed with such cruelty for what they believed and what they were unashamed to acknowledge. Who were they?

Who were the following men and women with their old English names? Robert Barnes, William Jerome, Thomas Garrard? Who was Anne Askew? Who was Thomas Dusgate and John Cardmaker? John Lambert? George Marsh? Laurence Saunders? Robert Glover? John Hullier? John Bland? Richard Yeoman? They were Christians, mostly from Cambridge, who were killed for their understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ as taught in the Bible.

Most English Christians know of the five American young men martyred in Ecuador on January 8, 1956; Jim Elliot, Nate Saint, Ed McCully, Peter Fleming, and Roger Youderian. People of my generation were stirred deeply and motivated by their supreme sacrifice. Should we not value many of the 300 people from England and Wales who knew more horrible deaths, whose last hours were faithfully recorded, what they said at the stake as they spoke to crowds gathered to witness their being burnt alive, their heart-breaking bravery and trust in Jesus Christ with their scornful glance at the horrible equipment of their suffering, at the chains and the piles of kindling wood piled around it?

Now you can learn of these brave Christians whose names you have just read, and of Martin Bucer too, an inspirational teacher and lecturer who came to Cambridge University in 1549 and for a mere two years impacted students before his premature final illness. Of course the luminaries are to be honoured, Thomas Bilney, Robert Ferrar, John Bradford, Nicholas Ridley, Hugh Latimer, and Thomas Cramner, but Christ’s ‘little ones’ must not be ignored. The author of a new book on these men and women has triumphantly rescued them from undeserved oblivion. Previous scholars refer to the twenty-five martyrs of Cambridge University. There is also a brief detour to consider a non-student, Anne Askew, but how moved we were to read of her life and death. George Wishart’s martyrdom belongs to Scottish history, though a student at Corpus Christi, Cambridge and wisely is not included in this book.

So what is this book to which I am tantalisingly referring you? The book is entitled Whither God Brings Us: Cambridge and the Reformation Martyrs, written by David Llewellyn Jenkins and published by Charenton Reformed Publishing, 2018, a 350 page hardback. He tells his readers that spending these years in writing this book was not an impartial study.

My priority here is to record, as far as I am able, how the actions of the martyrs of the English Reformation were dictated by what God says through His Word: how they cast aside pride and self-sufficiency and were able to ‘continue in one spirit and in one mind, fighting together through the faith of the gospel’ (Philippians 1:27). (pp. 5&6)

In other words, he writes as an unashamed admirer and advocate of all they stood for and died for. There is this gentle flame that burns brightly throughout these pages. We need to know what these men and women died for. As Calvin wrote, ‘Nothing is more to be dreaded than that the Lord should extinguish the light of sound doctrine, and suffer us to go astray in darkness.’ There is no more fierce light to banish the darkness of the professing church today that that which comes from the bonfires on which these Christians were consumed.

This book is well researched. The footnotes are helpfully put at the bottom of each page not in end notes. John Foxe’s accounts are wisely trusted. The 1559 Geneva Bible is generally quoted. The libraries at Cambridge University, Corpus Christi College, King’s College, and the British Library have been well used. National Archives. the National Library of Wales, Norfolk Record Office, Dr. Williams’ Library and York Minster Library have also been ransacked for assistance. Many friends have encouraged the author. The book is dedicated to David’s parents, David and Megan.

So to the narrative itself. How moving it is! Who can read these pages without a tear being shed? For example, it was on 30 July 1540 that three young men, Robert Barnes, William Jerome, and Thomas Garrard were taken from the Tower of London, lain on hurdles, and dragged through the streets of London to Smithfield. There each man addressed the crowd, but it was Robert Barnes who gripped the multitude preaching with an awakening ministry to many of his hearers.

I believe that through the dying of Christ He overcame sin, death, and hell; and that there is none other satisfaction unto the Father, but His death and passion only; and that no work of man did deserve anything of God, but only Christ’s passion, as touching our justification: for I know the best work that ever I did is impure and imperfect.

Bear witness that I died in the faith of Jesus Christ, by whom I doubted not but to be saved,

and then Robert asked all the crowd — in which many London evangelicals were gathered — to pray for him and he turned around and took off his outer clothes and made himself ready for the fire. The three young men joined hands and kissed one another, quietly and humbly offering themselves into the hands of those who held lighted torches in their hands to set the kindling wood alight. One of the young Christians in the crows, Richard Hilles, wrote the next day to Henry Bullinger in Switzerland telling him that the three men ‘remained in the fire without crying out, but were as quiet and patient as though they felt no pain’ (pp.33-35). It is one of the great scenes from British sixteenth century history, repeated hundreds of times, that lit a flame of eternal light that still burns all the world over today and shall shine until the last day.

Then there is Lincolnshire born Anne Askew, aged 24 and mother of two children, then living in London, ‘young and remarkably beautiful’, handing out tracts and overheard saying that she ‘would sooner read five lines in the Bible than hear five masses in church.’ A spy, dispatched by the Bishop to gather information about her was disarmed by all he saw and heard as ‘the devoutest and godliest woman I ever knew.’ She prayed for hours ‘while I and many others sleep or do worse.’ Yet she was arrested and kept for a short time in solitary confinement in the Tower of London. She answered her interrogators well and was released to continue her testimony in Christ. In a year she was arrested again and grilled for five hours. ‘You will be burned to death for your beliefs,’ she was told. She replied that she had searched the New Testament but never found one place where either Christ or his apostles put any creature to death.

But Anne Askew, at 25, was taken to the torture chamber of the Tower of London and there in the White Tower she was put on the rack and stretched until her limbs were out of joint and her bones almost broken. Her torturers were angry that she would not cry out and so repeated and repeated her racking until she was nearly dead, her shoulders and hips pulled from their sockets, her elbows dislocated, and her knees broken. She was finally lifted off and fainted on the cold floor. When she regained consciousness, it was to find one of her inquisitors speaking to her for two hours, persuading her to relinquish her evangelical convictions. God helped her and she said to him, ‘I would rather die than break my faith.’

She was burned to death at Smithfield on 16 July, 1546. She was too crippled to walk after being on the rack and was carried in a chair to the stake. A Romanist preached and she listened intently, nodding when he quoted Scripture, but saying clearly at times, ‘There he misses and speaks without the Book.’ The flames slowly consumed her and an evangelical in the crowd cried out ‘A vengeance on all of you who thus burn Christ’s member!’ and he was beaten up for his pains. Foxe says, ‘She left behind her a singular example of Christian constancy for all men to follow’ (pp. 52-59). Seven months later the burnings ceased for a time as Henry VIII died and the young Christian, King Edward VI ascended to the throne.

That short reign ending, Mary came to the throne and the burnings with hellish fury. John Rogers was the first in her reign to be burnt on 4 February, 1555. The night before, he slept so soundly that he had to be awakened ‘with much shaking.’ As he was chained to the stake and the wood was set alight, he was presented with a royal pardon. He rejected it and urged the crowd to depend entirely on the teaching of Christ. He died slowly while keeping his hands lifted up to heaven yielding his spirit to his heavenly Father. The French Ambassador, Antoine de Noailles, came and watched the spectacle. He wrote that the crowd were overwhelmingly supportive of John Rogers in his dying;

They were not afraid to make many exclamations to strengthen his courage. Even Rogers’ own children assisted at it, comforting him in such a manner that it seemed as if he had been led to a wedding (p. 86).

So there we have some holy samples of what this book more fully reveals, but with much more of the convictions and the defence of the faith that these brave Christians displayed. The issue is alive and relevant today as this year and every year many new martyrs die horrible deaths for the Gospel. But here are our ancestors on this, our island — some burnt alive a couple of miles from where I sit in comfort, writing these words — whose courageous convictions eventually bought us the freedom to propagate the Bible’s truths and the finished work of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ. Few things could serve his cause more so than to grasp why these martyrs died, appropriating their Saviour as our own and making their dying faith our living faith. What a sparkling introduction to the Reformation this book is.

The post Whither God Brings Us appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Martin Luther asserted that ‘if this article [of justification] stands, the church stands; if this article collapses, the church collapses’.¹ The volume under review confirms this assertion to be true and should be an essential starting place for any preacher desiring to understand the history of the doctrine or seeking a fresh and biblical exposition of it. It will also prove to be a most profitable study in the doctrine of the gospel for any reader seeking an answer to that greatest of all questions, How shall a man be just with God?

Dr James Buchanan (1804-1870) was a leading Disruption divine and Professor of Systematic Theology at the New College in Edinburgh after the death of Dr Chalmers in 1847. A brief biographical sketch gives the main events in his life. It also highlights the change that had come over the late-nineteenth-century Free Church, relating how William Robertson Smith and Marcus Dods – two infamous heretics of the period – found his lectures tedious and ‘painfully prolix’. The sketch by Charles Walker and the useful introduction by Dr James Packer (prepared for the 1961 edition) correctly identify Buchanan’s peerless contribution to the defence of the Westminster doctrine, most notably in the face of false teachers arising within the Church itself. The history of the Free Church, and of the Protestant Church in general, since the emergence of the German Higher Criticism, has fully justified Luther’s identification of this doctrine as the test of a standing or collapsing church.

The volume is divided into two main parts – the first dealing with the history of the doctrine and the second with its exposition. The first part is a series of seven lectures covering, in fairly rapid survey, the doctrine in the Old Testament and Apostolic periods, through the Scholastic and Refor­mation times, before dealing with its history ‘in the Romish Church after the Reformation’, considering it as a ‘Subject of Controversy in Protestant Churches’, and giving a ‘History of the Doctrine in the Church of England’. In this survey, the main attacks made on the doctrine and the defences raised to counter these, are thoroughly handled. While some readers may prefer to go directly to the second part of the treatise, this first part of the volume will repay careful reading. A few interesting observations in connection with the history of the doctrine may be worth mentioning.

Concerning the early Church Fathers, Buchanan argues that they found the doctrine of justification ‘an established and unquestioned article of the common faith, and they assumed and applied it in all their writings, without thinking it necessary to enter into any formal explanation or proof of it’ (p. 78). He brings out that the Reformers held in common ‘whatever is essential and fundamental in the question of justification’, particularly the four points: the nature, the ground, the means, and the effect of it (p. 107f), noting that ‘few things in the history of the Church are more remarkable than the entire unanimity of the Reformers on the subject of a sinner’s justification before God’ (p. 141).

Buchanan concludes that their teaching of justification ‘imparted immediate relief and comfort to many anxious and distressed consciences . . . and prov­ed at many a homely hearth and in many a monastic cell – in some, even of the palaces of princes – that it was still, as of old, ‘the power of God unto salvation’’ (p. 118). Identifying a ‘widespread and growing defection from the old theology of the Reformation’ in the Church of England, Buchanan accurately diagnoses the disease. Among several causes mentioned is ‘the leaven of Arminian and Pelagian error . . . imbibed by many who continued to adhere to the Thirty-Nine Articles’ (p. 186). This familiar evil, and other external causes, together with the ‘natural Popery of the human heart’ will ever be a source of danger to Reformed Churches.

The second, and arguably more readable part, consists of a further seven lectures divided into 33 propositions. It is no exaggeration to say that these propositions masterfully present the full-orbed gospel of the Christian Church, and act as a bulwark against every species of error and deceit arrayed against it. Introducing his subject, Buchanan makes the insightful remark:

The best preparation for the study of this doctrine is neither great intellectual ability, nor much scholastic learning – but . . . a conviction of the fact of sin, as an awful reality in our own personal experience; of the power of sin, as an in­veterate evil cleaving to us continually, and having its roots in the innermost recesses of our hearts; and of the guilt of sin, past as well as present, as an offence against God which, once committed, can never cease to be true of us individually, and which, however He may be pleased to deal with it, has deserved His wrath and righteous condemnation (p. 208).

Dealing with the meaning of the term, the nature of the blessing, and its relation to law and justice, he then considers justification in its ‘Relation to the Mediatorial Work of Christ’. He then deals with its ‘Immediate and Only Ground – the Imputed Righteousness of Christ’. The study then goes on to deal with the deeply practical subjects of its ‘Relation to Grace and Works and its Connection with Faith’. Perhaps readers will be encouraged to pursue these lectures fully if the terms of the propositions 25-29 concern­ing the nature and reason of the connection between justification and faith are given:

‘We are justified by faith, and faith is counted or imputed to us for right­eousness; but faith is not itself the righteousness on account of which we are justified.’

‘The faith by which we are justified is a spiritual grace – as being the gift of God and one of the fruits of his Spirit – and, as such, is acceptable and well-pleasing to Him through Jesus Christ.’

‘A real influence or efficacy is ascribed to faith in connection with our justification, but it is such only as belongs to a divinely appointed means of receiving and appropriating a free gift.’

‘The only warrant of faith is the Word of God, and that Word is sufficient, not only to entitle every sinner to receive and rest upon Christ for his personal salvation, but to make it his duty to do so without delay.’

‘We are justified by faith only, simply because it is by faith and by no other grace that we believe the truth concerning Christ and rely on Him alone for salvation as He is freely offered to us in the gospel’ (pp. 340-359).

Some of the 33 propositions are dealt with briefly, in no more than a page, others cover 10 or 12 pages. Many useful distinctions are made, including an eminently helpful discussion of the distinction between justification and adoption, in which he asserts, ‘Pardon, acceptance and adoption are distinct privileges, the one rising above the other in the order in which they have been stated’ (p. 244). The essential distinction between justification and sanctification is addressed fully in both parts of the work, but Buchanan makes clear that ‘regeneration and justification are simultaneous; and no man is justified who is not renewed, nor is any man renewed who is not also, and immediately, justified’ (p. 370). In the final lecture, on the ‘Relation [of Justification] to the Work of the Holy Spirit’, Buchanan explains that, ‘by the agency of the Holy Spirit, who works faith in us by enabling and persuad­ing us to receive and rest upon Christ alone for salvation, we are united to Christ; and by our union with Him, we are made partakers of all the blessings which He died to purchase and is exalted to bestow’ (p. 371).

It would be eminently useful for present-day preachers to re-acquaint them­selves with this classic work on the great Reformation doctrine of justification. It would doubtless affect their own study of the Word and their emphasis in preaching. It would also, with the blessing of God, strengthen the walls of Zion against the old Popish and Arminian heresies on the subject, in whatever guise they resurface. Other readers will glean valuable insights which will greatly aid their understanding of the doctrine. This reprint, which includes invaluable notes in appendices, benefits greatly from being entirely retypeset and has all the features of quality which we have come to expect from Banner of Truth publications.

This article first appeared in the February edition of the Free Presbyterian Magazine and has been reproduced with permission.

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Mr. Murray was beautiful in life. I was reminded of this again at the Twin Lakes conference in Mississippi earlier this year. There I met up again with an old friend, Larry Mills, whom I first met at Westminster Seminary in 1961. He and his wife were immensely kind to me, and during his years there Sally Mills had a stillborn child. He told me that within hours of the child’s arrival, Mr. Murray and Dr. Van Til came to the hospital individually to express their sympathy to Sally and Larry and offer to help in any way.

This month of May 2018 marks the forty-third anniversary of Mr. Murray’s death. This book will make its author come alive to those who never knew him and awaken gratitude in those who were his friends, colleagues, and former students. It has a host of small attractive features, it is a hardback edition with a sober blue dust jacket illuminated by lines and leaves of gold. Each sermon begins on the stronger right hand page, often leaving the left page blank. Its indices are exhaustive and comprehensive. Its technical details focus in the sermons and where there is reflected a fuller more exegetical treatment of the texts in Mr. Murray’s commentary n Romans. In the book about half the sermons give us the privilege of hearing Mr. Murray’s opening prayers, permeated with the Authorised (or King James) translation of Scripture so that his prayers are the Words of God sewn together. There is one long pastoral prayer, magisterial and humble like all true prayers are. All these features indicate the enormous respect the Seminary has for its beloved first professor of theology – it wants to honour him, and others to honour him too.

One gets a glimpse of this attitude to the author in reading the tributes that 27 of the good and great of the evangelical and reformed would pay to the book in the first 12 pages; a quite excessive feature, but reflecting the influence that Mr. Murray continues to have, and of which he would be surprised. Allow me to quote a few sentences from some of these commendations.

‘Here is a collection of sermons without additives — no unnecessary words, no superfluous illustrations. I am thrilled to have this new volume which I commend with a measure of pride in the work of this Highland Scot!’ writes Alistair Begg.

‘This meaty preaching — exegetical, doctrinal, God-glorifying, Christ-centred and wedded to the text,’ writes Don Whitney.

‘These sermons represent the very finest sermonizing material. Every word, carefully chosen, every argument carefully analyzed. A book to read and re-read. Treasure indeed!’ writes Derek Thomas.

‘The ongoing momentum of each sermon is breathtaking. . . We expect edification in a sermon, but these sermons give us pleasure as well’ writes Leland Ryken.

‘Seldom has justification by faith been preached with greater clarity or the Father’s love found a more passionate expositor. A feast for the hungry soul!’ writes Donald Macleod.

‘His awesome delight in the triune God is contagious. I was humbled and lifted up to worship as I heard Jesus proclaimed through these sermons’ writes Dennis Johnson of Westminster Seminary, California.

‘Honestly, if John Murray wrote a grocery list I’d read it, so when he writes on such magnificent topics there isn’t any good reason not to read him’ writes Mark Jones.

I will stop there. There are a dozen more who also write and identify with Mr. Murray and want a share in the reflected glory of the preacher and his sermons. This is the tone of voice with which we would also write, and which even the whole church should speak in being confronted with the book’s glorious words magnifying our Saviour. Mr. Murray is our exemplar of what free grace effectually accomplishes, and he is our spokesman. Here you find what it truly is to be full of the Spirit, or how the divine unction on a preacher is manifested, or what preaching in the Spirit is all about. The neo-orthodox movement has had a pervasive influence in the professing church for eighty years now: where are its preachers who fill churches and save the underclasses, the farmers, housewives, teenagers, colliers, and fishermen? Where are its books of sermons?

This response of unalleviated delight in the ministry of Mr. Murray is a new phenomenon. During his life he was considered orthodox, a spokesman for the old paths, safe but rather dry, ‘A dour Scot’ one famous preacher described him to me. The old joke was very tired to me (and utterly untrue) that his glass eye was his compassionate and kindly eye. What a change! Now there is doxology! There is unqualified praise. How they love him! How they have benefited from him! What a sweet sign this is of a new spirit of wisdom and discernment in the church.

As Sinclair Ferguson points out,

. . .what we have here is not Professor Murray’s manuscripts but the transcripts of the messages themselves, and this adds interest and vitality to teh words written. . . This is the ministry of a man to whom God providentially gave great gifts, but who never appeared to think of himself more highly than he ought.

So the book lies before us and the world. What will we do with it? Three of the sermons many readers already know. The Banner of Truth gave permission for Westminster Seminary to publish sermons 5, 8, and 15 from Volume 3 of The Collected Writings of John Murray, and this includes the magnificent sermon on ‘The Father’s Love’ from Romans 8:32, ‘He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?’ And there is his moving single sentence prayer at the end:

O God, do thou be merciful to us, meet our insufficiency with the abundance of thy provision, meet our unbelief with the power of thy grace, and grant that we may be able more and more to abound in faith, in love, and in hope, that we may put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the flesh, but that we may lay hold upon all the promises that are yea and amen in Christ, and out of his fulness may we all receive grace upon grace, in his name. Amen.

One longs that  one benefit of this book will be that people will be constrained to buy and read and read and read the four volumes of the Collected Writings of John Murray.

So to the sermons. One is on the rich man and Lazarus, which the book has entitles ‘Lazarus and the Rich Man.’ I know this passage well; I have preached on it. The Chapel Library in Florida has produced a booklet of mine on this incident. I read Mr. Murray’s treatment of it with expectation. How fresh it is! How what I have said needs to be sharpened and clarified. Obvious insights need to be added. My main application of the sufficiency of Scripture is there too but how Mr. Murray declares it,

They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them. . .if they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rise from the dead. Visitors from heaven or hell would not bring us a message would have the validity or the authority or the power of the Word of God! In particular, such a message would have nothing of the validity or the authority or the power of him who is the speaker on this occasion: the Lord himself who is the Word of God incarnate, who is himself the way, the truth, and the life (p. 200)

That sermon is not my most favourite. I could not choose one, but the sermons on the Father’s love (pp.73-89), and the priesthood of Christ (pp.157-171) are incredibly moving, but asking which is my favourite is like asking me which of my three daughters is my favourite. I love them all immeasurably and equally. Please get this book and so read it that you can understand my enthusiasm for it, but going on and surpassing me in the profit you gain from it, especially in deeper, stronger love for the Altogether Lovely One, so loved by the preacher in this book.

One little request, there are other recorded sermons of Mr. Murray gathering dust around the world, in Canada, Scotland, USA, and England. The standard has been set for their production. Let them be gathered and printed! When will we be blessed with volume two?

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Murray is not breaking new ground, but mulling over past ministries and seeking to bring the memory of these men and their times to the rising generation. This is not to say that this book, which contains sketches of the lives and ministries of John Elias, Andrew Bonar, Archibald Brown, Kenneth MacRae, Martyn Lloyd-Jones, W. J. Grier, and John MacArthur, is either unnecessary or dull. Some of the sketches in this book originated in addressed to ministers’ meetings, and the book is of particular value to those engaged in the work of the ministry, or interested in theology. In part, this book shows how historical theology ought to be done. Firstly, Murray’s work highlights the fact that God uses men, frail men, drawn from every walk of life. Some of the men in this book were trained at colleges; others were raised up without formal study for the ministry , but all were clear that God makes a preacher, rather than man. How affecting is John Elias’ comment on the men used of God in the early years of the Welsh Calvinistic Methodist revival, that they:

…used to go into the pulpit as poor, needy and trembling creatures; their dependence for everything was on the Lord. They were very anxious that the people should be benefitted and eternally saved. (p.40)

As might be expected of Murray, there is a strong and healthy emphasis on the work of the Holy Spirit in the work of the ministry.

And the work of the Spirit in convincing sinners of their sin , Archibald Brown’s caution that ‘[t]o offer a Saviour to the man who is ignorant of his sinnership is to offer him that which he cannot fully appreciate’ is a reminder that the gospel is only good news for sinners, and preaching which does not tell people they are sinners, however much it may talk of people ‘accepting Christ’ is not preaching at all, a theme which surfaces in the chapters which follow. The gospel is addressed to sinners. As Joseph Hart rightly observed:

What comfort can a Saviour bring,
To such as never felt their woe?

Another thread running through this book is the danger of diluting the consistency of Calvinism. In the first chapter, Murray highlights the role of once influential but now little-known theologian Edward Williams (1750-1813) in producing a modified Calvinism, opposed by John Elias, but embraced by many, which proved the ruin of English theology, paving the way for the inroads made by liberal theology into nonconformity in the English-speaking world. Seeking to promote unity, the followers of Williams let slip their grasp upon the truth. The effects may be seen today.

Dealing with these seven men as preachers, Murray points to the differences between them , a warning for those who expect every minister to do things the same way. Some of these men preached with notes, others without. Some preached through books of the Bible, where others preached textual sermons. This ought to warn us against bigotry , and it may help preachers not to adopt a technique which suits neither they nor their hearers.

This is a most readable and encouraging book. Ministers ought to buy it, and congregations should buy it for their ministers. Not escapism, but solid history, applied to modern age. God is glorified in Murray’s examination of these remarkable men.

The post Seven Leaders: Preachers and Pastors (A Review) appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Having experienced this frustration for many years, I embarked in 2002 on the journey of using the Robert Murray M’Cheyne Daily Reading Plan. Given my abortive attempts at entire Bible reading plans in the past, my optimism levels were not high. Remarkably, my expectations were exceeded by some measure. In the almost sixteen years that have followed, I have read the M’Cheyne plan for fifteen of them (with a one year foray into the NIV Bible in One Year). This plan has become part of the fabric of my spiritual life, an indispensable companion in my daily walk with God, and a gracious means of growth in the path of Christian discipleship. What set this plan apart from others for me, and what benefits have accrued from it?

1. The pattern of four chapters per day balances wholesale sections of Scripture with daily variety.

Some sections of Scripture can be easily read, while others are more challenging. The M’Cheyne plan allows me to engage with the tougher passages while still deriving rich sustenance rfrom the more plain portions set out for the same day.

2. There is a beautiful harmony in the chapters and books which are chosen for each day.

It is hard to ascertain how much of the convergence of readings in the plan was intentional on M’Cheyne’s part, and how much came about by raw providential ordering, but over and over again there are lines of comparison and contrast between sections which are refreshing and faith affirming.

3. The exposure to the Psalms and New Testament twice in the year gives the M’Cheyne plan a unique advantage.

A second pass at these portions allows the reader to really be immersed in their shape and content in a way that other plans don’t allow.

4. The divisibility of the plan across one year or two years means that all reading speeds and levels can be accommodated.

Pastorally, it has been an extraordinary experience over the past years to see people take two years over M’Cheyne rather than one, and for the first time read the whole Bible for themselves. Two of our church members in their seventies who have never read the whole corpus of Scripture for themselves before have, in the past four years, read it twice. Theirs is only one story among many.

5. Reading the same plan year on year entwines Scripture with our lived experiences.

I well remember turning to the M’Cheyne readings on the 18th October, 204, the day of my father’s funeral. 1 Thessalonians 4 came to me with all the consolation of the risen Christ and the coming Day. My grief was contextualised, my hope was put in order, and my heart was fortified to bury my Dad with trembling expectation of Christ’s return. Now every year on the 18th October, I am reminded of the pastoral grace of God to me in that grief, and of the ever nearer moment when Christ Jesus appears. These kinds of repeated readings mean that Scripture itself becomes our annual Ebenezer amid the trials and conflict of life.

Of all the options open to us in our aspiration to read the Bible for ourselves, the M’Cheyne plan is to be recommended in the strongest of terms. It has been proven by many to have real capacity for making daily Bible reading the delight that it ought to be. Why not exchange your best laid plans for this best read plan, and rejoice in the truth of God’s Word in a new way in the year to come?

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In the foreword, John Morrill writes: ‘I am confident that all users of this edition will be richly rewarded so long as they have the patience to read the introduction and to treat the volumes holistically, drawing on all parts of it’ (page xi).

Volume 1 lays down a ‘road map’ for what follows: the glossary, map, and list of country abbreviations are very useful. A list of abbreviations used in the work is contained in the Readers’ Guide (pages 99-105), and this is essential because it is impossible to follow the footnotes without it.

The highlight of the first volume is Chad Van Dixhoorn’s ‘Introduction’ (pages 1-87). My impression is that the section on ‘The Solemn League and Covenant and the Scottish Commission’ (pages 23-27) will be quoted often. Chad Van Dixhoorn writes that Robert Baillie’s letters ‘almost sensationalize the theologians of the Scottish commission as an elite strike-force , a four-man band of trained specialists rushed into Westminster Abbey to rescue hapless English Presbyterians held hostage by a coalition of congregationalists, Erastians, and moderate Episcopalians’ (page 24). He evaluates the folklore and tradition that has surrounded the commissioners with care and clarity.

The ‘Biographical Dictionary’ (pages 106-47) supplies historical portraits of key Assembly figures. Readers will observe the absence of entries for John Owen, Thomas Watson, and Oliver Cromwell. The first two, Owen and Watson, were remarkable theologians. But none of these men were part of the Assembly (Owen and Cromwell are both included in the famous painting of the Assembly by J.R. Herbert).

Perhaps two of my favourite inclusions are the ‘Register of Citations’ (pages 148-61) and the ‘Leading Assembly Contributors’ (Appendix 13, pages 212-13). The former lists the names of all authors cited by the divines. Augustine, Calvin, Chrysostom, Cyprian, and Tertullian, are prominent; but the list will inspire us to more study as we discover how often they cited such men as Theodore de Beze, Thomas Cartwright, Johannes Piscator, and William Whitaker. Appendix 13 (Leading Assembly Contributors) provides a kind of league table of the twelve men who spoke most, with Stephen Marshall (‘the Irenic Presbyterian’) at the top, with 465 speeches, followed by Lazarus Seaman, and Cornelius Burges.

Van Dixhoorn agrees with S.E. Ahlstrom that the Assembly’s Confession became ‘by far the most influential doctrinal symbol in American Protestant history’, and he states that the Westminster Standards are considered by many to be ‘the finest and most enduring statements of early modern Reformed theology’ (pages 86-7).

With this in mind, let me give a brief sketch of the remaining volumes. The second (687 pages), third (791 pages), and fourth (897 pages) volumes are the minutes of the sessions from August 4, 1643 to April 24, 1652. The fifth volume (472 pages) is comprised of supplementary material including letters by the Assembly. It is completed with a compendium of the plenary sessions with dates, Scripture and Apocrypha citations. Also there are three separate indices for subjects, places, people, and names.

Reading the minutes (volumes 2-4) will dispel any romantic illusions abut the work of the Assembly. Day after day the divines discussed and debated many aspects of doctrine, including church government. The work was obviously arduous, tiring, challenging, and at times difficult. They were thorough, vigorously committed to orthodoxy, and educated with rich learning.

A snippet of the erudite contributions can be sampled by a speech given by Thomas Gataker during a discussion on the remission of sins and justification. He refers to continental Reformed confessions and to theologians Caspar Oblevianus, Johannes Piscator, and Abraham Scultetus. He expounds the word ‘justify’ from English, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. His comments are replete with biblical references, and his conclusions are searching. He discerns the theological nuances between finely balanced teachings of remission of sins, justification, and reconciliation (2.43-45). Reading Gataker should be an antidote for anyone who is suffering from theological pride.

Towards the end of this second volume there is the record of the intense debate regarding matters of church government and the locus classicus text of Matthew 18:17 ‘tell it to the church’. The question was: ‘It the locus of church authority and ex-communication in the final court of the local church congregation, the church’s elders, or the regional elders together to form a presbytery’ This was not a new discussion, it had been rumbling among the English Separatists such as Robert Browne, John Robinson, and John Smyth, to name a few, from the 1590s. Vociferous dissent was expressed against the Presbyterian Church of England majority in the Assembly on the issue of the final seat of church authority by Philip Nye, Thomas Goodwin, William Bridge, and others (2.493-684).

This was no ‘minor key’ in the debates on the floor of the Assembly. In the minutes, it covers almost 200 pages of Volume 2. In reading these congregational proponents, it appears evident that these men are contending for a particular formation of church government, yet they are labelled as ‘Congregationalists’ and not ‘Independents’ by Van Dixhoorn (session headings, 493, 507, 518, 617 as examples). However, their display of ecclesial principles that lean to independency raises questions. It is beyond the scope of this review to drill down deeper into this theological matter, but the editorial decision to remove the pejorative label ‘Independent’, a word actually never found recorded in the debates, in favour of ‘Congregational Presbyterians’ is probably helpful.

While the end of volume 2 and most of 3 are taken up with the ‘grand debate’ on church government, as labelled by Robert S. Paul (The Assembly of the Lord), there are other theological themes running concurrently as work on the Confession of Faith continued. It appears that the work of the assembly picks up speed in Volume 4, even though the details of much discussion  are not always recorded because it was conducted in committees. This volume spans the period 1646-1652 and the culmination of months of debate, fasting, prayer, speeches, and discussion comes to fruition with the completion of the Confession of Faith, the Larger and Shorter Catechisms, besides the examination of hundreds of ministers of the Church of England, responses to Parliament, and overseas correspondence with continental Reformed churches.

What can be learned from these minutes and papers of the Westminster Assembly?

One valuable lesson can be gleaned from observing the breadth of opinion in the Assembly on many points, and seeing how it established clearly defined parameters of doctrine. The Assembly’d documents were the outcome of consensus and not of a single theologian’s teaching. This should guard us from assuming that our own brand of the Reformed church is the only pattern to be followed. On the other hand, their theological settlements are timeless, and a fresh return to their agreement in the Directory for Public Worship would cause us to question the validity of many contemporary ‘ winds of doctrine’ on the subject.

Another lesson to be embraced is that of listening to others in debate. Open and vigorous discussion, anchored in historical, systematic. and biblical theology should not be supressed.

The Assembly conducted its business in painstaking detail, without undue haste, and in correspondence with the continental Reformed churches. There appears to have been a broad European consensus of the Reformed church, and this Assembly stood firmly in the same lineage, with healthy theological relationships outside of Great Britain.

I commend these volumes, and I recommend that churches consider making this resource available to its ministers and elders and every thoughtful Christian.

Kevin Bidwell is the pastor of Sheffield Presbyterian Church. This article first appeared in the Presbyterian Network Magazine.

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What particularly riveted their attention was the way that all the elements of biblical teaching were so clearly woven together. Some of those present wondered whether these messages might one day appear in printed form. That hope has been realised in this publication; Sinclair Ferguson has repackaged, expanded and adapted his material for a wider readership.

The title of the book is Dr Ferguson’s definition of sanctification. There are ten chapters, each of which is based on a pivotal portion of the New Testament. Together they deal with the following aspects: six foundational principles and motivations to holiness (1 Peter 1); the renewing of our minds and consecration of our bodies (Romans 12:1-2); a new life and new identity (Galatians 2:20); being dead to sin in our union with Christ (Romans 6); the continuing battle in the power of the Spirit (Galatians 5:16-17); putting off old ways and adjusting to a new way of living (Colossians 3); our responsibility to kill sin, because we are being led by the Spirit (Romans 8:13); the role of God’s law in our sanctification(Matthew 5:17-20); the need to persevere, for without holiness no one will see the Lord (Hebrews 12:1-14); and Christ-likeness is the goal of sanctification (Romans 8:29)

There are four appendices on related issues. A further addendum prints the texts of the pivotal Scriptures in the NIV 1984 translation, which he uses throughout. Here we have careful exposition, true systematic theology and pastoral counsel helpfully served up, with illustrations and bullet-point summaries.

It is a stimulating read with the constant reminder that Christ himself is at work in the believer’s life. We are in Christ and Christ is in us; he is our sanctification.

Ferguson reminds us that a failure to grasp this fullness of the Bible’s teaching on sanctification impairs a pastor’s ministry and adversely affects the life and testimony of our churches.

I was particularly helped by what was, for me, a new angle on the subject of baptism in relation to sanctification. Ferguson steers us away from the usual controversy and focuses on the most important aspect on which we can agree. Our baptism points us to our union with Christ and gives us a new identity in him. Our baptism renames us.

Also of significance is his insistence that the law is a necessary instrument in our sanctification. He counters the modem indifference to the commandments of God. Jesus fulfils the law in us by the Spirit, so the Spirit of Christ in us and the Word of God to us exist in total harmony. Though no longer married to the law, we are married to Christ, who embodies the law and so we become an ‘in-law to the law’.

Although it would have been helpful to have had some engagement with the latter section of Romans 7, I am sure this publication will come to be regarded as a classic. Taste some of the many quotable extracts: ‘[Christ’s] uniting himself to us in our human nature is the basis for our uniting ourselves to him in faith’ (p.57); ‘Our lives are transformed only when our minds are renewed’ (p.65); ‘Sanctification was never intended to be an individualistic project’ (p. 109). ‘Grace leads us to mortify sin. not to tolerate it’ (p.202).

Of Further Interest

The post Devoted to God: Review appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Biographies of Tyndale are popular but a book that majors on his ‘Answer to Sir Thomas More’s Dialogue’ may seem less attractive. To be put off by that would be a mistake. Tyndale was not only concerned that the people had the Bible in their own language but also that the vital truths of the Bible should be plainly taught and expounded, and so he penned an impressive list of theology writings. The definitive edition of his works issued by the Parker Society in the mid nineteenth-century runs to two solid volumes: a total of 1,325 pages (available in facsimile reprint from Banner of Truth.)

The controversy between Tyndale and Thomas More provides a summary of the life-and-death struggle between those who placed their faith in the Christ of the Bible and those whose faith was in the Romanist church and its priesthood, and so the extract was very wisely chosen.

The book begins with an Introduction by John Piper, covering Tyndale’s life and labours, his theological and translation work, the bitter persecution he faced, and his abiding importance. Piper relies heavily on Tyndale expert David Daniell, whose enthusiasm for his subject goes a trifle too far: the degree to which Tyndale’s translation underlies the Authorised Version seems somewhat overstated (but this is a minor criticism).

The core of the book is Tyndale’s ‘Answer’ to More’s bitter attack both on Bible translation at all, and on specific terms used by Tyndale in his translation, for example repentance not penance, elder and not priest, and even congregation rather than church. Tyndale refutes the concept that the Bible requires tradition, defends Scripture’s full inspiration, and then shows that the Bible made the church, rather than any church making the Bible. Finally he proves from Scripture that the church of Rome is no true church.

The book is in a clear modern typeface. Tyndale’s language is not modernised: frequent obsolete terms are explained in footnotes. The polemic (on both sides) is robust.

The final section is Robert Sheehan’s ‘Epilogue’, an interesting look at the history of the English Bible from Wickliffe and the Lollards to Tyndale and the printed Bible, and finally his enduring legacy.

As we remember the Reformation in the current spiritual climate few books could be more timely, or more necessary.

The post Introducing William Tyndale : Review appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Let me explain, taking my life into my hands because I am bound to inadvertently leave some of the most important names and institutions out in this suggestive summary . . . the first wave consisted of such individuals and institutions as Dr. Lloyd-Jones, Louis Berkhof, Westminster and Calvin Seminaries, William Hendriksen, Arthur Pink, Lorraine Boettner,  the Sovereign Grace Union, G.C. Berkouwer, the Evangelical Library, the Free Grace Record, I.B. Davies, Kenneth Macrae, R.A. Finlayson, W.J. Grier, Adam Loughridge, Principal John Macleod, the Puritan Conference, the Inter-Varsity Press and so on.

The second wave consisted of such men and institutions as the Banner of Truth, Iain Murray, J.I. Packer, Erroll Hulse, Reformation Today, the Carey Conference, Ernest Reisinger, the Evangelical Movement of Wales, the Bible Rally movement, the South Wales Bible College, Reformed Seminary Jackson, Jay Green, Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing company, the B.E.C., Morton Smith, Evangelical Press, the Pensacola Conference, the Aberystwyth Conference.

The third wave consisted of those affected by those kinds of men and movements as the above – though some were born out of due time and came by reading the Bible and prayer alone. They are my contemporaries: Stuart Olyott, Sinclair Ferguson, Conrad Mbewe, Paul Helm, Al Martin, Joel Beeke, Donald Macleod, Ted Donnelly, Douglas Macmillan, Walter Chantry, Peter Masters, John MacArthur, Keith Underhill, Brian Ellis, David Kingdon, Baruch Maoz, Irfon Hughes, Jay Adams, Derek Thomas, Iain D. Campbell, Alistair Begg, Andrew Davies, Day One, Christian Focus,  London Seminary, and Evangelical Times.

The fourth wave are the people to whom such men as the above have preached, who have learned the whole counsel of God from these institutions and people, whose books and magazines they have read, whose websites they have visited. Many attend those particular conferences in the USA and the UK where such men are the preachers. At the American Banner of Truth conference this year over one hundred young ministers came for the first time.

Gratifyingly, Hell’s Best Revealed Secret comes from this new wave of Reformation men that God has raised up, and the first-time author of this particular book lives in Kenya. The book chronicles the revolution that took place in the life of the writer, Elly Achok Olare, when he grasped the height and depth of the grace of God in saving sinners. It is a testimony to the great change that he has experienced.

He has called it Hell’s Best Revealed Secret (published 2014 by Gospel Missions Agency Church – Kenya, P.O.Box 956 50102 Mumias, Kenya, 90 pages, ISBN 979 9966 07 051 7). This is partly because of the phrase of the evangelist Ray Comfort ‘Hell’s Best Kept Secret’.

By this Comfort is referring to the disappearance of the Law of God from evangelical preaching. Without the Law there cannot be knowledge of sin; for where there is no Law, sin is not imputed. Without the ten commandments there can be no genuine conviction of sin, and if there is no genuine conviction of sin, there can be no genuine repentance. Multitudes who supposedly repented never had an idea of what they were repenting. Sinners had no awareness of how sinful they were in the sight of God. Hell did what it could to hide this message of God’s law from sinners, but Elly declares that hell also released a deadly gift to the churches of Christ and that is the invitation system.

Mumias, where his congregation is found, is overwhelmingly Muslim and he and his congregation have suffered harassment and the burning down of two of their buildings. He is also surrounded by Protestant congregations where the invitation system, or altar call, is a dominant part of every Sunday evangelistic service and he is facing fierce hostility for this book.

The big conference they organise and his preaching contain solemn warnings of the unbiblical nature of calling people to walk to the front and repeat a prayer put on their lips by a ‘counsellor’ and then receive the assurance that henceforth all is eternally well between themselves and God. This calm and reasoned book is full of the passion and desire for the glory of God, and Elly adds this:

This is one of the hardest things I have had to do in my life. I am going to be attacking a system which I gloried in for close to 17 years as a crusade speaker.

Elly describes hell’s revealed secret in the Invitation System thus;

They will print posters to advertise the evangelistic meetings. Such posters will bear the image of the preacher – sometimes with a brief testimony that God has mightily used the evangelist in performing miracles. Many a time, images of crippled people carrying their crutches or wheel chairs after being healed will be displayed to increase the appeal. On the poster a famous singer or band will be advertised so that those who do not desire to come because of the miracle working preacher will be lured by the popular singer or the group.

Church members will be taught on the tactics of ‘soul winning’ before attending the crusade. One of the most common tactics is to tell the church members that when the preacher calls for hands to be lifted they should be the first to lift their hands in order to encourage the sinners to lift theirs also (in psychology this is called the ‘herding instinct’) and when those professing they have become Christians are asked to get out of their seats and walk to the podium, it would be incumbent upon the same church members to initiate such a walk so that the timid sinner can be encouraged to follow suit. It is more like the animal world – such as the great wildebeest migration across the Mara river in Kenya. There is nervous reluctance, the herds stand on the bank, but when one wildebeest makes the jump the rest will follow suit at the exact spot the first one crossed the river. This is the psychology employed to get the timid masses to come forward and ‘receive Jesus’” (op cit pp. 1&2).

Most crusades are timed to end as the sun sets. This is to take advantage of the cover of darkness so that the people who feel like getting up and going to the front may not feel embarrassed, since no one is seeing them. Over and above that but even during day time such psychological tactics like saying, ‘everybody close your eyes’ will be used in the service. This is to ensure that those being urged to come forward may feel that no one is looking at them. The first step having been secured with every eye closed (probably under cover of darkness) the second step is put into place. With a soft, somber and emotional voice carried melodiously over notes of soft music, the preacher asks those who want to make a commitment to Jesus to lift up their hands. There will follow a protracted encouragement, prodding and appealing to them all not to be ashamed of the Lord. Then closed eyes will be urged upon everyone (“they need not worry, no one is watching them”) .

When sufficient hands have gone up, ushers and counsellors will be instructed to stand next to lifted hands. Then they will be told to walk forward and the ushers will be at hand to prod them along. At the same time such appeals as ‘Jesus came all the way from heaven for you, can you not walk a few meters for Him?’ will be pressed upon the sinners present. Such a guilt trip often works and at times it is buttressed with statements like this, ‘if you take the first step, my friend, then Jesus will take the rest.’ I have seen meetings where the crowds are asked to clap for the hesitating sinner, applauding his ‘bravery.’ This is done to make the sinner feel he is a champion if he makes the move. In other meetings people are urged to get out of their seats before they all count three and so all shout out, ‘ONE, TWO, THREE’ and then the congregation is told to applaud as some people beat the count and come forward (pp. 2&3).

These are some of the horrors of the crudities of the invitation system as witnessed and practised for many years by the author.

Elly then tells his readers where such a system came from: the philosophy and system of thought of Charles G. Finney. The author proceeds to ask some fundamental biblical questions: What actually is coming to Christ? Have men and women the ability – utterly unaided by God – to come to Christ? No. Man is dead in sin and at enmity towards God. How then does man come to God? It is by the Father drawing him, making him willing, giving him a new birth which is a sovereign work of the Holy Spirit.

Hell’s most feared message is the gospel of the righteousness of God. Readers are urged to repent and believe upon the Lord Jesus Christ. All this careful exegesis takes the majority of the book, the next nine brief chapters.

Finally in the ultimate chapter seven reasons are given by Elly for rejecting the Invitation System.

1. It is unbiblical.

2. Its failure rate is incurable.

3. It obscures the gospel of God’s amazing grace.

4. It inoculates people against the true gospel.

5. It produces tares

6. It brings shame and dishonour on the name of Christ.

7. Christ can build his church without it.

Well done Elly Achok Olare for your perceptive book. It is next to Iain Murray’s booklet The Invitation System (Banner of Truth), and W.R.Downing’s booklet, Why We Dont Use the Invitation System (Altar Call) (Firstlove Publications) on my shelf.

The post Review: Hell’s Best Revealed Secret appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Ryle’s ‘Expository Thoughts on the Gospels’ are surely, as valued today as they were on original publication? He had a genius for reaching ‘the common man’. Before going to Liverpool he laboured for many years in two rural Suffolk parishes. At Theological College (1964-68), during an arid period of theological study – which included German critics and modern liberal views – I rose early with other Spurgeon fans, to read, with considerable spiritual profit, the Metropolitan baptist’s sermons. Yet, in contrast to Spurgeon’s Victorian-styled, flowery oratory – most effective language at the time – Ryle seems so patently modern. He is brilliantly crisp, perspicuously clear, straight to the point, and void of all unnecessary padding. Yet, Spurgeon and Ryle lived, roughly, at the same time.

Perhaps, we have a glimpse of the reason why Ryle is still so popular. He writes in his introduction to Expository Thoughts,  ‘…In style and composition I frankly avow that I have studied, as far as possible, to be plain and pointed, and to choose what an old divine calls ‘picked and packed’ words.  I have tried to place myself in the position of one who is reading aloud to others, and must arrest their attention, if he can. I have said to myself in writing each exposition, ‘I am addressing a mixed company, and I have but a short time, – Keeping this in view, I have constantly left unsaid many things that might have been said, and have endeavoured to dwell chiefly on the things needful to salvation…’

J C Ryle was a moderate Calvinist – an old-fashioned Episcopalian conservative evangelical, who was forthright and greatly influential in his day. He was biblically sound, gospel-centred and concerned to challenge the unbeliever, root out hypocrisy and formalism wherever he found it, while edifying, encouraging, and strengthening the saints of God.  Several of his other writings – now classics, like his book HOLINESS, are kept in print by the Banner of Truth Trust. But his unique treatment of the gospels is just exceptional. He was a prolific Tract-writer and it shows in his style. It is like having him in the room speaking to you personally. The Expositions are also so devotionally uplifting. Any Christian without them must be singularly impoverished.

The material is remarkably adaptable for regular Bible study, or reading at the breakfast table to the family. The homiletical outlines could be a help to any young minister. Each of the volumes has refreshing and insightful things to say to us. The whole gospel story is covered, briefly in Mark and Matthew, more fully in Luke and John. While there are few footnotes in the earlier volumes, by the time we reach John, the footnotes prove to be both full and fascinating – in some ways richer than the expositions. My paperback volumes fell apart many years ago and have been glued and often repaired. The new edition has an attractive dust-cover and strong cloth hardback covers, which will wear well. The Scriptural text (KJV) is included, an excellent-sized print for the eye is used, and everything you would wish to have for a life-time’s permanent (perhaps daily) use is here. Bodily exercise profiteth only a little (1 Timothy 4:8). Yet Jesus said, ‘Heaven and earth shall pass away; but my words shall not pass away’ (Luke 21:33). Sell your shirt and buy them!

The post Expository Thoughts on the Gospels – A Review by Barry Shucksmith appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

From his Irish lineage, to his time at Oxford, his reputation as ‘stroke-oar’ in Balliol’s eight, his involvement with the Oxford Inter-Collegiate Christian Union, his happy marriage and loving family, his commitment to the reformed faith, his position and influence with the Banner of Truth Trust, his work as an open-air preacher, his ventures into Eastern Europe, his significant pulpit and conference ministry, his long expository and pastoral ministry (45 years) at Alexandra Road Congregational Church, Hemel Hempstead, and, most of all, his battle for the truth, the gospel, the reformation and revival of the church, all this, and much more, are set forth in a clear and easy way. The biography is not only a faithful record but a rich devotional stimulant to the prayerful reader. Most impressive of all is the way in which John faced the obvious pain of cancer at the comparatively early age of 67yrs, the stark reality of death, and his final victory in Christ as he passed over to be with the Lord for ever. Some men are great and some men have greatness thrust upon them. John was all energy and all commitment from the day of his regeneration to the day of his glorification.

The contents of the book is in two parts – part one is the biography. The larger part two contains eight of John’s memorable writings and conference addresses. These are minutely researched, wide-reaching in perspective, pertinently relevant, certainly original, and deeply effective. For example, “John Rogers was the first of the protestant English martyrs” under bloody Mary, “The Puritan Woman” is a scintillating overview and exposition of Proverbs 31:10, drawing upon the 17^th century. Walter Marshall’s book, “The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification,” is a classic and still greatly needed today for believers seeking holiness of life. The Skegness believer, “Thomas Scott,” was one who struggled not only to arrive at “The Force of Truth,” but who learned to interpret the darker providences of God for his life. John Marshall brings the real character into our century. Similarly, “Rabbi Duncan” has a good deal to teach us about Christian Assurance – still a  problem in some reformed circles. We are pointed again and again to Jesus Christ and His shed blood, which goes on cleansing us from all sin.

How many believers have thought about “Mental illness from a Christian perspective?” Or, how much thought have we given to the inconsistent “Prophet Balaam” – even though the churches seem to have many like him today, who hinder and injure the people of God? And those who heard John J Marshall’s final sermon, preached at the Leicester Minister’s Conference, April 2003, will never forget it, or his pointed application of “Slaying Giants: A sermon on 1 Samuel 17:42-47?” It was a costly delivery for it took him a week to recover from the energy expended, in his – by now – cancer-riddled body. The book “JOHN E MARSHALL – Life and writings,” is beautifully produced, contains several periodic photographs, including previous attenders of BOTT conferences, and grabs the reader’s interest from the opening page. Highly recommended reading – for all who want to know and serve the Lord better in the power of the Holy Spirit.

The post John E. Marshall – A Review by Barry Shucksmith appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

One example is the doctrine that God is a trinity. Another is the union of the divine and the human in the person of Christ. A third, Christ’s work of atonement. A fourth, what the Holy Spirit does in conversion. A fifth, the outworking of God’s purposes regarding sin and salvation. Dr. Crawford labels these mysterious doctrines. Not because they are unintelligible. But rather because we reach so quickly the outer limits of our understanding of them.
The chapters of this book (originally a series of lectures) are apologetic in purpose. They are a response to the charge that the above doctrines are too mysterious and incomprehensible to be true. Dr. Crawford’s thesis (which he powerfully defends) is that ‘the mysteriousness of certain doctrines is not in itself… any sufficient reason either for excluding them from the articles of the Christian faith, or for discrediting the Christian system on account of them’ (p.28).

That of course may suggest a reason for Christians deciding not to read the book. The mystery inseparable from the key truths of Christianity is something with which they are contentedly living. That there is a vast and impenetrable ‘beyond’ is not a problem for their faith. Nor is this feeling of remoteness from the subject the only potential obstacle. The treatment of it is by no means easy. This is a mind-stretching book. Readers will need to be wide-awake and ready to give it their best attention.

For all the difficulties, however, this is a very valuable work which will repay the effort involved in reading it. For one thing, it is fitted to curb unwarranted speculation. There is a natural and healthy inquisitiveness that has been productive of great good in every walk of life – including the life of faith. And God’s revelation has been given to us to explore. But the temptation to go beyond what has been revealed is strong. Crawford’s Mysteries of Christianity brings us face to face with the limits to what God has revealed and discourages the attempt to transgress them.
More positively, the exposition of the doctrines themselves is first-rate. I would highlight, in this connection, lectures ten and eleven on the purposes of God. My suggestion, in fact, would be that a reader start with these. They will hopefully whet his appetite for the book as a whole. Certainly they will provide him with an illuminating treatment of a controversial yet foundational truth.

One helpful feature is the side notes. In the margins of many of the pages are brief summaries of what a particularly important paragraph or section is teaching. If you are losing your way or needing a reminder of the gist of the argument these side notes are invaluable.
This new Banner of Truth edition comes with an introduction by Sinclair Ferguson. Don’t skip over it. In it you will meet Dr. Crawford himself. You will also be given a persuasive argument for taking the time to read his book.

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