There is a law in wrestling which must be observed. If a man also strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned except he strive lawfully, 2 Timothy 2:5. He alludes to the Roman games, to which there were judges appointed to see that no foul play were offered contrary to the law for wrestling; the prize being denied to such, though they did foil their adversary; which the apostle improves to make the Christian careful in his war, as being under a stricter law and discipline, that requires not only valour to fight, but obedience  to fight by order and according to the word of command. Now few do this that go for great wrestlers.

1. Some while they wrestle against one sin, embrace another, and in this case it is not [that] the person wrestles against sin, but one sin wrestles with another, and it is no wonder to see thieves fall out when they come to divide the spoil. Lusts are diverse, Titus 3:3, and it is hard to please many masters, especially when their commands are so contrary. When pride bids lay on in bravery, lavish out in entertainment, covetousness bids lay up; when malice bids revenge, carnal policy saith, Conceal thy wrath, though not forgive. When lust sends to his whores, hypocrisy pulls him back for shame of the world. Now is he God’s champion that resists one sin at the command of another, it may be a worse?

2. Some wrestle, but they are pressed into the field¹, not volunteers.

Their slavish fears scare them at present from their lust, so that the combat is rather betwixt their conscience and will, than them and your lust. Give me such a sin, saith will. No, saith conscience, it will scald; and throws it away. A man may love the wine, though he is loath to have his lips burned. Hypocrites themselves are afraid to burn. In such combats the will at last prevails, either by bribing the understanding to present the lust it desires in a more pleasing dress, that conscience may not be scared with such hideous apparitions of wrath; or by pacifying conscience with some promise of repentance for the future; or by forbearing some sin for the present, which it can best spare, thereby to gain the reputation of something like a reformation. Or if all this will not do, then, prompted by the fury of its lust, the will proclaims open war against conscience, sinning in the face of it, like some wild horse, [which] impatient of the spur which pricks him and bridle that curbs him, gets the bit between his teeth, and runs with full speed, till at last he easeth himself of his rider; and then where he sees fattest pasture, no hedge or ditch can withhold him, till in the end you find him starving in some pound for his trespass. Thus, many sin at such rate, that conscience can no longer hold the reins nor sit the saddle, but is thrown down and laid for dead; and then the wretches range where their lusts can have the fullest meal, till at last they pay for their stolen pleasures most dearly, when conscience comes to itself, pursues them, and takes them more surely by the throat than ever, never to let them go till it brings them before God’s tribunal.

3. Others wrestle with sin, but they do not hate it, and therefore they are favourable to it, and seek not the life of sin as their deadly enemy. These wrestle in jest, and not in earnest; the wounds they give sin one day, are healed by the next. Let men resolve never so strongly against sin, yet will it creep again into their favour, till the love of sin be quenched in the heart; and this fire will never die of itself, the love of Christ must quench the love of sin, as Jerome [saith] excellently², ‘one love extinguishes another’.  This heavenly fire will indeed put out the flame of hell…

How the true wrestlers should manage their combat

Direction to the saints. Seeing your life is a continual wrestling here on earth, it is your wisdom to study how you may best manage the combat with your worst enemy; which that you may do, take these few directions.

First. Look thou goest not into the field without thy second. My meaning is, engage God by prayer to stand at thy back. God is in a league offensive and defensive with thee, but he looks to be called. Did the Ephraimites take it ill, that Gideon called them not into the field, and may not God much more? As if thou meanedst to steal a victory before he should know it. Thou hast more valour than Moses, who would not stir without God, no, though he sent an angel for his lieutenant. Thou art wiser than Jacob, who to overcome Esau, now marching up, turns from him, and falls upon God; he knew if he could wrestle with God, he might trust God to deal with his brother. Engage God and the back-door is shut, no enemy can come behind thee, yea, thine enemy shall fall before thee. God turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness, saith David. Heaven saith amen to his prayer, and the wretch hangs himself.

Second. Be very careful of giving thine enemy hand-hold. Wrestlers strive to fasten upon some part or other, which gives them advantage more easily to throw their adversary; to prevent which, they used–1. To lay aside their garments; 2. To anoint their bodies.

1. Christian, labour to put off the old man which is most personal, that corruption which David calls his own iniquity (Psalm 18:23). This is the skirt which Satan lays hold of; observe what it is, and mortify it daily; then Satan will retreat with shame, when he sees the head of that enemy upon the wall, which should have betrayed thee into his hands.

2. The Roman wrestlers used to anoint their bodies. So do thou; bathe thy soul with the frequent meditation of Christ’s love. Satan will find little welcome, where Christ’s love dwells; love will kindle love, and that will be as a wall of fire to keep off Satan; it will make thee disdain the offer of a sin, and as oil, supple the joints, and make [thee] agile to offend thy enemy. Think how Christ wrestled in thy quarrel; sin, hell, and wrath had all come full mouth upon thee, had not he coped with them in the way. And canst thou find in thy heart to requite his love, by betraying his glory into the hands of sin, by cowardice or treachery. Say not thou lovest him, so long as thou canst lay those sins in thy bosom which plucked his heart out of his bosom. It were strange if a child should keep, and delight to use, no other knife, but that wherewith his father was stabbed.

Third. Improve the advantage, thou gettest at any time, wisely. Sometimes the Christian hath his enemy on the hip, yea, on the ground, can set his foot on the very neck of his pride, and throw away his unbelief, as a thing absurd and unreasonable. Now, as a wise wrestler, fall with all thy weight upon thine enemy. Though man think it foul play to strike when his adversary is down, yet do not thou so compliment with sin, as to let it breathe or rise. Take heed thou beest not charged of God, as once Ahab, for letting go this enemy now in thy hands, whom God hath appointed to destruction. Learn a little wisdom of the serpent’s brood, who, when they had Christ under their foot, never thought they had him sure enough, no, not when dead; and therefore both seal and watch his grave. Thus do thou, to hinder the resurrection of thy sin, seal it down with stronger purposes, solemn covenants, and watch it by a wakeful circumspect walking.

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DOCTRINE: It is the will of Jesus Christ that all that are his own by the donation of the Father shall be in heaven where he is.

There are two things in the doctrine which I might prove clear in order before I come to application. First, That there are some certain men whom God the Father hath made over to the Son, that belong to Jesus Christ, and are his own by donation from the Father.

Secondly, That it is the will of Christ that they who are so his own shall be in heaven where he is.

1. There are some certain men who belong to Jesus Christ who are his own by donation from the Father. And he gives them to the Son by his decree from everlasting, and by the execution of the same decree in time. This I do but mention here, because it hath been largely handled on ver. 12.

2. Now for the second branch, that it is the will of Christ that they who are so his own shall be in heaven, where himself is; you see it is the suit he makes to God the Father in my text, ‘Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with me where I am,’ that is, in heaven where I am to be; in heaven, where I am already in my Godhead, and where I am to be very shortly in my manhood; there I will have them to be also.

And for this end our Saviour Christ is gone to heaven, even to make heaven ready for his people, that so they may be presently admitted when they come. He yields it as one special cause of his departure from his apostles and disciples, when he was about to leave them; saith he, ‘I go to prepare a place for you,’ John 14:2. When he entered into heaven and passed in to the immediate presence of his Father, he took possession of it in our name and stead, and left it open after him to all his members. He hath in this respect prepared it for them, that he hath made it ready to receive them. And when they are ready too, he will come and receive them to himself, that where he is, there may they be also, as it is added, John 14:3. And upon this account it was that the apostle Paul desired to be dissolved, because he was assured that as soon as that was over, he should be with Christ, Phil. 1:23; and so he teaches us expressly in another place, that ‘all that sleep in Christ Jesus shall be for ever with the Lord,’ 1 Thess. 4:17. By which it is apparent that it is the will of Christ that all that are his own by the donation of the Father shall be in heaven where himself is. But you will ask me, Why will he have them to be there?

To this I answer, that a man would think it necessary by reason of the union between Christ and them, that seeing they are one, they should be in one place. But you must know, my brethren, that the corporeal and local presence of the parties contributes nothing to the union that is made between Christ and his members, which is a spiritual and invisible thing, and which no nearness in regard of place can further, no distance in regard of place can hinder. So that Christ’s people may be in him, though they be not with him (in the sense wherein I speak.) I mean not with him in the same place. Their being with him locally in heaven is no way necessary to their union with him: or, were it so, the saints on earth were in a very ill case. Well, then, this cannot be the reason why Christ would have his people to be in one place with him; that they may be one with him. They may be this without the other. But there are divers other weighty reasons of the point. I shall name a few of them.

Reason 1. Christ would have his people be in heaven where himself is; because he hath a dear affection to them; his heart is carried out exceedingly in love to them. And more particularly and distinctly, he loves them with a love of benevolence, and he loves them with a love of complacency.

1. Christ would have his people be in heaven, where himself is, because he loves them with a love of benevolence. With such a love as makes him wish them all the good that they are possibly capable of. Now, my beloved, what greater good can be wished to true believers than to be with Christ in heaven? To be in heaven where they shall be absolutely and completely holy and happy, where they shall never sin, and where they shall never suffer any more; where holiness and happiness shall be both perfect; where there is fulness of joy and pleasure for evermore: and to be with Christ there, of whose immediate presence true believers are unavoidably debarred as long as they remain in this world. ‘While they are at home in the body, they are absent from the Lord,’ as 2 Cor. 5:6. But when they come to heaven they shall be with him, they shall have the complete and full fruition and enjoyment of him, which is the greatest happiness that can be. ‘To be with Christ is best of all,’ Phil. 1:23. To be with saints on earth is good, though they be imperfect here, and though by reason of their imperfections they be the less delightful, and the less beneficial to us; to be with saints in heaven is better, because they are perfect there. There are ‘the spirits of just men made perfect.’ But to be with Christ there is best of all. This is so good that there is nothing better; there is no higher happiness attainable by any creature. And therefore Christ would have his people to enjoy it, to be in heaven where himself is, because he loves them with a love of benevolence.

2. Jesus Christ would have his people to be in heaven where himself is, because he loves them with a love of complacency, because he takes delight in them; and friends that delight in one another think it not sufficient to be present each with other by the presence of their hearts and spirits. No, if it be possible, they will be present each with other in their bodies too; as you may see in Jonathan and David, what shifts they made to come together. So Jesus Christ, who loves his people out of measure, is not content that he is with them in his Spirit, and that they are again with him in their spirits. No, this is not enough, but he must have their bodies with him too, he must enjoy their company in heaven, or else it is not well there. Christ is not fully satisfied till he enjoy the sweet society of his beloved saints in heaven, with whom he hath such intimate and dear acquaintance, while they are here upon earth. And hence he begs his Father for them, to bring them to the same place where himself is, as if he could not live in heaven without them : Father, I will that, etc.

Reason 2. There is a second reason added in the text, which I shall handle only under that consideration: ‘Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with me where I am.’ And why so? might the Father ask him. Why, ‘that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me;’ as it is added in the next words, that they may see the lustre which I sparkle with. The glory of Christ’s human nature in heaven is exceeding great. The evangelist, who saw it through the dim spectacles of human frailty, endeavours as he can to set it forth. Saith he, ‘His countenance was as the sun that shineth in his strength,’ Rev. 1:16. But this was but a short resemblance. Our Saviour Christ, who knew it better, carries it a little higher. ‘The Son of man,’ saith he, ‘shall come in the glory of the Father,’ Matt. 16:27, in comparison of whose incomparable lustre and transcendent brightness the sun itself is but a shadow. Now Christ would have his people be in heaven, where himself is; that they may see this glory which he shines withal. But why would he have them see it? what shall they gain by it?

1. While they see it, they cannot but exceedingly rejoice in it. It cannot but transport them even to an ecstasy of joy to see him whom they love so infinitely sparkle forth with such dazzling rays of glory. Oh, will the poor believer say, this is my head, my husband, whom my soul loveth, that is become so out of measure glorious. There was a time when he was black; and when there was no form nor beauty in him–when wretched men made him vile and ignominious, and when they hid their faces, as if they were ashamed of him. But now he shines forth as the sun that hath been masked with a gloomy cloud. This is he that died for me, that shed his blood for me, that loved me and gave himself for me. Oh, how my heart is ravished to behold his glory!

2. While they behold it, as they shall rejoice in it, so they shall partake of it, and that especially two ways, both by union and reflection.

First, They shall partake of it by union, for, being one with Jesus Christ, they cannot choose but share together with him in his glory. And as the glory of the members redoundeth to the glory of the head, in which respect it is that the apostle saith that Christ shall be ‘admired in all them that believe;’ so on the other side, the glory of the head redoundeth much more to the glory of the members.

Secondly, And as they shall partake hereof by union; so also by reflection, when they see Christ; while they behold the glory of the Lord they shall be transformed into the same image from glory to glory. Their ‘vile bodies shall be conformed to his glorious body;’ (Phil. 3:21); and while they see him as he is, they shall be like him, as the apostle John insinuates (1 John 3:2). They shall bear the very image of the heavenly Adam (1 Cor. 15:48). And as the face of Moses shined when he had been with God upon the mount; so when we come to be with Christ in heaven, and to behold his glory there; we shall reflect it back again, and so shall shine together with him in the same glory. And this is another reason why Christ will have his people to be with him; that they may see his glory, and, seeing, may partake of it, both by union and reflection.

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1. Singing

Our children are blessed as they hear the whole church singing to God joyfully and heartily, with full hearts and full voices. They learn that the truths we sing are truths worth singing about. And they learn to sing. They learn how to sing the psalms. They learn the great hymns that have been passed down to us from previous generations of believers. They learn to obey Paul’s command in Ephesians 5:19, ‘[Address] one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart.’ They learn to sing to the Lord with the congregation.

2. Prayer

To be sure, children learn to pray by listening to their parents pray, but they also learn to pray by listening to their pastors pray. They learn to pray along with those who are leading in prayer. They add their voices to the congregation as we all pray the Lord’s Prayer together, or join together in a corporate confession of sin. They learn to add their hearty ‘Amen’ to the end of the prayers, as a way of agreeing with what has been prayed and making it their own. They learn to pray in corporate worship.

3. Reading

Paul told Timothy to devote himself to ‘the public reading of Scripture’ (1 Tim. 4:13), which is for the benefit of the whole congregation, of which Ten Benefits of Corporate Worship for Our Children 27 children are a part (Eph. 6:1-3; Col. 3:20). Children should read the Bible in their home, or have it read to them, but they should also be able to benefit from the public reading of Scripture in congregational worship. It is one of the means of grace that God has appointed for his people.

4. Preaching

The preaching of the word of God is not just for adults, it’s for children too. The whole counsel of God is for the whole people of God and therefore the preaching of the whole counsel of God is for the whole people of God. And the preaching of the word is the high point of the means of grace, and we don’t want our children to miss out. We don’t want them to miss out on what the Westminster Larger Catechism says about the way God uses sermons to change us: ‘The Spirit of God maketh the reading, but especially the preaching of the word, an effectual means of enlightening, convincing, and humbling sinners; of driving them out of themselves, and drawing them unto Christ; of conforming them to his image, and subduing them to his will; of strengthening them against temptations and corruptions; of building them up in grace, and establishing  their hearts in holiness and comfort through faith unto salvation’ (Q&A 155). Those are things we want for our children.

5. Sacraments

The sacrament of baptism is a blessing to our children, not just their own baptism, but the baptism of other children, or of adults professing faith. They can see the sign and seal of the covenant of grace and their natural curiosity may spark off conversations with their parents about the meaning of it all. And the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper is also a blessing to our children, even though they don’t participate in the sacred supper until they have made a public profession of their faith and been admitted to the Lord’s Table by the elders. They see what’s going on, they hear the words of institution that become familiar with them, and again their questions can generate meaningful discussion about what the Lord’s Supper signifies – much like the question the son would ask the father at the celebration of the Passover in the Old Testament, ‘What does this mean?’ (Exod. 13:14).

6. Habit

The habit of worshipping God on the Lord’s Day is formed in the hearts and minds of our children. The healthy, holy habit of attending corporate worship is formed, which, if kept up, will be a blessing to them all their lives. We are creatures of habit, and we want to form the habit of Lord’s Day worship early in the hearts and minds of our children.

7. Inclusion

It is a tremendous blessing to our children to know that they are included in the covenant community, and that they have both great privileges as a member of the covenant community and great responsibilities. Their greatest responsibility is first and foremost to trust Christ personally and to make public profession of their faith. Our children can either get the distinct impression that worship is for adults, or they can learn that worship is for them too.

8. Learning

They are blessed with the opportunity to learn how to worship God by watching their parents and the rest of the church worship God. Author Jason Helopoulos writes in his book Let the Children Worship:

Corporate worship is corporate. The entire body gathers together. This re-emphasizes the unity God’s people possess with one another. It reminds us that we are one people united in our one Lord, one faith, and one baptism (Eph. 4:5). This blesses the entire congregation. The old saint looks around and sees generations that will carry on the faith once he has passed. A teenager, who may struggle to respect his parents, observes venerable and respected men and women in the community who also believe in Christ Jesus. The young child witnesses other adults possessing the same faith and heart for worship that her parents model at home. As the congregation sings, all the voices of the church unite. When God’s people read the confession of faith, they confess the same truth united. When God’s people hear the public prayers they voice a loud ‘Amen’ united. How unfortunate it is when the entire congregation should witness and voice this unity and receive encouragement from this fellowship, but our children remain absent. It steals blessing from them and the greater congregation itself.¹

9. Modelling

This is actually a blessing for the whole congregation, because by modelling I mean our children modelling for us the child-like faith we should have as we worship God. In Luke 18:15-17 we read,

Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, ‘Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.’

We are helping our children learn to worship, but they are also helping us.

10. The special presence of God

Matthew 18:20 says, ‘For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.’ God, of course, is everywhere, but he is present with us in corporate worship in a special way. He is present to bless us and to keep us, to make his face shine upon us and be gracious to us, to lift up his countenance upon us and give us peace (Num. 6:24-26). And if God is present, we don’t want our children to be absent. As a pastor once put it, ‘If Jesus showed up for worship on a Sunday, would we separate our children from the service?’ The answer, of course, is ‘No.’ We would want our children there if he were there. But he is there, every Sunday, and so we want our children to be there too.

Matt Purdy is Senior Pastor at Carlisle Reformed Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia, USA.

This article was published in the December 2019 issue of the Banner of Truth Magazine, no. 675.

Featured Photo by Ben White on Unsplash.

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THE public life of Master Robert Bruce in the city of Edinburgh was cast in troublous times. His ministry in the Church of St Giles had an influence which was quite unique, and the voice which found utterance in the capital had its echo throughout the whole Church. There were circumstances in Bruce’s previous career which prepared him for the great position in which he found himself. His great social position was in his favour; the breadth and variety of his training gave him exceptional advantage; above all things, he had his mind made up with reference to critical public questions, and there was on him the stamp of a true messenger of Jesus Christ. ‘The godly for his puissant and most moving doctrine loved him; the worldly for his parentage and place reverenced him, and the enemies for both stood in awe of him.’¹ It was felt that a successor to Knox had been raised up in Providence.

In the very first twelve month of his pastorate, February 1588, Bruce found himself thrust into the chair of Moderator of the General Assembly. The High Court of the Church had been specially summoned, owing to a threatened invasion of the island by Spain. That Bruce was called to preside over its deliberations is a proof that he occupied already a high place in the counsels of the Church.

Let us attempt to bring up to our minds a representation of the preacher and the service in St Giles Church about the year 1589. As to the aspect of Bruce, it must have been commanding, for in an age which was much less curious about such externals as personal appearance than our own, men spoke of Bruce’s countenance and of his calm self-possession when conducting divine service. One close observer, who was resident in Edinburgh, writes: ‘This day Bruce preached, as he ever doth, very calmly.’² Men remarked upon his manner in prayer also. He was very brief in prayer when others were present, but every sentence was like a strong bolt shot up to heaven.³ When deeply exercised in his intercessions he was moved to tears.⁴ He had a habit of knocking upon the table with his fingers as he grew importunate in his prayers.⁵ To all this should be added the testimony of Kirkton concerning Bruce: ‘He made always an earthquake upon his hearers, and rarely preached but to a weeping auditory.’⁶ As in his conduct of the devotions, so in his preaching he tended to brevity. It is a mistake to suppose that our Scottish Reformers were unusually lengthy in their public services. James Melville informs us in the Diary that one and a half hours was set as the limit on Sundays, one hour on week-days. In his St Giles service, at the entry of Queen Anne of Denmark into the capital, Master Robert restricted himself to half an hour. ‘I shall be short, by God’s grace,’ was a common phrase of this preacher, and another equally pertinent expression was, ‘By God’s grace, I shall make it clear.’ His anxiety was to be understood: ‘Ye tak’ me up wrong,’ he interjected in his discourse. Point and lucidity were chief qualities of the great St Giles minister, Robert Bruce.

On entering the pulpit, it was a habit of Bruce to remain silent a while in secret prayer. ‘He was no Boanerges as to his voice,’ remarks a sympathetic worshipper; and, on the contrary, another contemporary speaks of ‘that trumpet-sound by which the walls of Jericho were overthrown.’⁷ It is certain that in the great church of St Giles, which even the voice of Knox could but imperfectly fill, Bruce would have had difficulty in making himself heard. In the last quarter, however, of the sixteenth century that pile of buildings known as St Giles Church was subdivided into no fewer than four places of worship, in order to accommodate four congregations. These were called the College Kirk, the Great Kirk, the Upper Tolbooth, and the East or Little Kirk. During the years of his Edinburgh ministry Bruce preached at first in the Great Kirk, ranking as chief minister of Edinburgh. In the later years a series of unhappy events of which he was the victim led to his labours being restricted to a smaller congregation, that of North-West Edinburgh, which met in the Little Kirk. This portion is traditionally known as ‘Master Robert Bruce’s Kirk.’

At the period of Bruce’s entrance on his ministry the lessons for the day would be taken by a reader. Bruce himself gave out the text, and he read it with much solemnity. His very tone and accent quickened his hearers, and there is at least one occasion when his deliberate, solemn repetition of a text from which he was about to preach led to the conversion of one who was present. Bruce would read, not from the Authorised Version (it was not to be published yet for twenty-three years), but from the Geneva Version, which for about eighty years was used in Scotland, before the adoption of the Authorised of 1611. Consequently the archaic form of many a quotation from Scripture will strike one; for instance, in the text of the thanksgiving sermon for deliverance from the Armada, ‘Thou art more bright and puissant than the mountains of prey’ (Psa. 76:4). Such unfamiliar words as ‘daunton,’ ‘kythe’ or ‘horologe’ (for Isaiah’s sundial) appear in the sermons. But to our ears the strangest thing of all in the preaching of Master Robert would be his use of the old Scots tongue. The dialect is so hard to be understood today that the sermons have been rendered into English for the benefit of modern readers. But this very manner of speech was what gave them their power when first they were uttered. Knox was the pioneer of those who cast aside the pedantry of scholastic Latin, and spoke to the people in their homely vernacular. The Scots tongue was spoken by all the nation from King James downwards. And one of the chief masters of that familiar ‘vulgar tongue’ was Bruce, who deliberately preferred it as a medium. His sermons are without any of those ornaments of quotation in which his generation loved to indulge. He preferred great plainness of speech, and in a preface to the published sermons he apologises for the unpretentious language which he uses. ‘I am somewhat hamely with you,’ he remarks in a sermon, in the course of his argument. Today we can hardly interpret, without a glossary, words like ‘throombes’ or ‘leisum’ or ‘bachill,’ and we are startled by the recurrence of expressions like ‘tak tent’ or ‘spunks of joy,’ no less than of words like ‘fash’ and ‘speir.’ We may well believe that these sermons are to this day full of life. They abound in illustrations drawn from political or social incidents of the moment. Figures of speech are numerous, and they are bold. The preacher can speak of ‘the teeth of the soul,’ meaning that faith which takes hold of Christ. He proposes to ‘open his pack and sell some wares,’ or again he seeks to ‘stanch the bleeding of the cause.’ He bids his hearers try themselves by the square of God’s law, and he describes Jesus Christ as the sconce to which men must flee for safety. He is as fond of a pithy proverb as Mr Spurgeon himself; such as ‘Over great wealth gars wit waver,’ or ‘They haud aye still on ae tune.’ ‘Is it possible,’ asks he, ‘that my drouth can be slokened with that drink that passed never over my halse?’ In the sermons, along with much simplicity and point, there is language of great elevation. One meets splendid expressions like this, ‘A wonderful and miserable madness that is in the soul of man,’ or this, ‘Terrible it is to see the countenance of God in His justice.’⁸ Sometimes his thoughts in the pulpit so move him that he breaks off his argument, and falls to prayer in the middle of the sermon. In fine, these sermons of Bruce reveal a spirit of the loftiest sort, earnest and strong; they have that indefinable note of distinction which indicates a mastermind. Soon we are aware, as we read, that this is a great theologian, whose intellect as well as his heart is engaged in his work. There is discernible throughout his preaching a weird note of prognostication, and a cry of coming judgment, all the more surprising when we remember that the preacher is but a youth. The fact is, that these are due to the special time of Bruce’s entering upon his ministry in Scotland. All around him he finds laxity, treachery, superstition. ‘God,’ cries he, ‘is not like our countrymen, for they, where they are best known are worst loved; but God, on the contrary, where He is best known He is best loved.’

The following extracts may serve to illustrate the lofty and searching thought of Bruce’s pulpit discourse:

It hath been the custom of God from time to time to bring His Church into wonderful extremities, that in the judgment of man there appeareth no hope of safety in them: yea, in our own judgment oft times there appeareth no escape. I say it is His custom to bring His Church into these extremities that His glory may appear so much the more in her extraordinary deliverances … It is a matter of great consequence to subdue and tame the great idol of evil will. We may speak of it as we please, and say that we are able to do it. But of all the works of the earth it is the greatest. For such is the stubbornness of our will, that it will do nothing but what it liketh itself. The perfection of a Christian standeth in striving; we must either strive, or we shall not be crowned … That same fury and rage whereby men think to dishonour God and overwhelm His Church, He turneth to the contrary, and maketh out of that same fury His own glory and the deliverance of His Church to shine. The Lord is a wonderful workman. He bringeth about His purpose in such sort that He can draw light out of darkness, and bring forth His own praise out of their greatest rage … There are two ways set down in Scripture: there is a broad and an open way, wherein the proud and vain men of the earth walk; there is a narrow and a strait way wherein the simple, and they that depend on God, walk. The broad way is easy and pleasant in the entry, but the end is everlasting and terrible straitness; the other way is strait in the entry, yet the end is large and pleasant, and bringeth a joyful eternity … There remains now, of all these great things, and of all this doctrine which has been taught, but this one lesson. Learn to apply Christ rightly to thy soul, and thou hast won all; thou art a great theologian if thou hast learned this well: for in the right application of Christ to the sick soul, to the wounded conscience, and diseased heart, here begins the fountain of all our felicity and the well-spring of all our joy.⁹

It may help us to enter into the soul of that splendid ministry of the Kirk of St Giles three hundred years ago if we try to bring before us a special service conducted by Bruce. In the month of October 1588 he conducted a thanksgiving upon two successive Sundays, after the defeat of the Spanish Armada. The proclamation enacted that the service should be followed by holy communion, and accordingly Bruce concludes his discourse with an invitation to ‘dress for yon table.’ Those two sermons, preached from Psalm 76, have a special interest as the earliest public utterance of Bruce which has been preserved, and a paragraph or two upon their occasion will be useful. The Spanish Armada had hung for three years as a menace over Scotland and England. The suspense was tremendous and long drawn out. Rumour had it once and again that the foe was already landed at Dunbar or St Andrews, ‘and in very deed,’ says James Melville:

the Lord of Armies who rides upon the wings of the wind, the keeper of His own Israel, was conveying that monstrous navy about our coasts, and directing their hulks and galleys to the lands, rocks, and sands whereupon He had destined their destruction.¹⁰

Calderwood describes how the invaders were cast upon the Scottish coast, and wandered through the country begging, and found greater clemency and charity than they deserved or expected.¹¹ Bruce, for his part, had no doubt as to the hand to which the deliverance was due. ‘As truly,’ said he, in his emphatic way:

as truly as the overthrow of Sennacherib, this destruction of the Spaniard was divinely wrought. He thought no doubt to have rooted out the Kirk. Yet what cometh to pass, I pray you? When as he was of mind to combat with the Kirk, he meeteth with the wind, and he findeth the wind more than his match, as the carcases of men and of ships in all coasts do testify … It is commonly asked, and will be asked to the end of the world, when was yon great defeat done, and in what place was yon fleet destroyed? It will be answered again, and I am assured it is answered already, yon fleet was destroyed about the coasts of the Lord’s own dwelling-place, where He made His residence.¹²

One must feel thankful that in her hour of delirious joy over the discomfiture of the Catholic invaders Scotland had so sure and so clear a guide in St Giles pulpit. The mob of High Street and the Canongate were easily excited in those great old times, and very readily they slipped out of control. Not on every occasion when they rose was even Master Robert himself able to keep them in check. But upon this historic date he was their master. From the window of his manse he could see that roaring multitude at the cross, who celebrated the victory in their own fashion. Every mixed motive his shrewd gaze could take in, as well as all those inferior passions which were let free. In his sermon at the church no class of men escaped his scrutiny, from the king himself to the simplest folk; the timid clergy, the canny merchants of the Luckenbooths,¹³ the law-breakers, all came under the sweep of his discourse. If the language was somewhat archaic, what must be said of certain of the customs which prevailed in the church worship of that elder time? King James had his royal pew in St Giles, and he took leave occasionally to interrupt the preacher, calling his doctrine in question or giving his approbation. Haughty courtiers might stroll into church noisily, to hear what was said. Men sat in their pews with their hats on. On one occasion the following strange episode occurred when Bruce conducted the service. The lawless, defiant Earl of Bothwell stepped into church and, kneeling as a penitent, made confession before all the assembled people of his wicked life, and vowed with tears that he would prove in the future another man. Bruce’s exhortation, pointed, searching, dignified, is from the text, ‘Flee also from the lusts of youth.’ At the close the miserable nobleman asked the prayers of the assembled congregation; ‘but soon after he brake out into gross enormities.’¹⁴

Bruce was above all things a preacher to the conscience. He brought his own conscience to bear on all his work. While he took much pains in searching the Scripture, and in preparing his sermons, which indeed bear marks of wide reading among the Fathers, yet the main part of his business lay in ‘having his soul wrought up to some suitableness of frame.’¹⁵ ‘Of all the diseases that can come on any person,’ he says in one of the course of sermons on Isaiah:

no question the disease of the soul and conscience is greatest; and of all the diseases and troubles that overtake the conscience, no question this is the greatest, when with the sight of sin, which is enough, and more than enough to any to sustain, when with this sight there is a feeling of God’s wrath joined. O then, this sickness is unsupportable, when with the sight of sin is joined a touch and feeling of the wrath of God. Merciful God! If the horror be not exceeding great and terrible, so that it is a wonder if the soul can stand, and is not driven to desperation.

‘Is it possible,’ he asks, out of a deep experience, ‘that faith and doubting can have place in our soul?’ And he defines doubt in memorable terms:

It comprehendeth all the errors, fasheries, stammerings, and wrestlings wherewith our faith is assaulted full oft, which makes us sometimes to despair, sometimes to hope; while we look to ourselves to despair, and while we lookon the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, to hope … The soul must utter such stuff as it hath, to wit, doubting and stammering.¹⁶

But this preacher, out of the depths of his own memorable experience, is assured that doubt is the shadow cast by faith,

‘Which like a shadow proves the substance true.’

‘If thy conscience is wounded, assuredly thou shalt doubt. Entertain peace in thy conscience and thou shalt keep faith.’ Only by strict obedience to the voice of this inward companion can one find relief. ‘There is not another lesson in Christianity than this: this is the first and the last lesson, to shake off your lusts and affections piece by piece, and so piece by piece renounce thyself that thou mayest embrace Christ.’¹⁷ ‘Renounce myself’ is his message. ‘Looking to the greatness of our misery, and to the greatness of the price whereby He hath redeemed us, what heart is there but would willingly renounce itself to get a part in that redemption?’ The tense feeling of his mind in this matter of self-immolation for the sake of his Lord comes out in a story recorded by John Livingstone, who tells us that one day he arrived at Bruce’s house to see him, but that it was long ere the other came out of his study. When he came forth all his face was suffused with tears. He said that he had just learnt of the keen suffering of a faithful minister in London for his Lord. ‘My sorrow is not for him, but for myself,’ said Bruce; ‘for had I been faithful like him, I might have got the pillory, and have shed some of my blood for Christ as well as he! But he hath got the crown from us all.’¹⁸

In one of the earliest of those St Giles sermons the preacher closes with a reference to Romans 8, which sounds the very keynote of his teaching. When Master Robert quotes the splendid Quis Separabit,¹⁹ he cannot articulate the text of St Paul as a common preacher might. ‘We claim Christ as belonging to us, as if no man had a title to Him but we. Our persuasion becomes so strong that we dare at the last to say with the Apostle, what shall separate us from the love of Christ?’ And as Bruce, in face of the allurements of those who loved him, or of the menace of those who hated him, stood firm as a tower; so also stood his Master steadfast to him up to that supreme hour when, placing his right hand upon the passage from Romans 8, which was his peculiar text and trust, he passed, declaring his faith in the word, ‘For I am persuaded that neither life nor death shall be able to separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’²⁰ Meantime, that right hand is uplifted in St Giles Church, as the minister pronounces the doxology with which he was accustomed to end his discourse: ‘In the righteous merits of Jesus Christ, to whom with the Father and the Holy Ghost be all honour, praise, and glory, for now and ever – AMEN.’

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Our object in studying this subject of the Christian and the State in Revolutionary Times has a very practical intent. We have not considered this matter in a theoretical manner for the simple reason that we are in the midst of such a situation ourselves. I have thought several times during the conference of a friend who was many times in this very room in recent years, Josef Ton a Baptist pastor in Romania, who is in the midst of the fiery furnace, if one may use such an expression, at the present time, and also a colleague of his, Prof. Valish Talosh who is professor of history in the Baptist Seminary in Bucharest. These men are already in this very situation.

The former periods of which we have been hearing were revolutionary times like ours, but as we have been seeing, each period tends to have its own special features. So if we want to consider this subject in a practical manner we have to bring it up to date; and it has fallen to my lot to do that very thing. We cannot stop even at the American War of Independence and the Declaration of Independence. We must go on beyond that; and so my title is ‘The French Revolution and After.’

My whole thesis is to show that something entirely new emerged, and came into being, with the French Revolution. It is one of those great turning-points in history comparable to the Reformation – not in the same way, of course, but quite as defin­itely a turning-point as was the Protestant Reformation. I start by saying that it was something which was essentially different both from the rebellion and revolution in England in the seventeenth century and also from what happened in America in 1775–76.

This new thing that came to expression in the French Revolution can be traced to a number of influences, particularly in France. It was the age of the so-called Enlightenment. The man who played a very prominent part in that was Diderot. He edited what was called an Encyclopaedia in thirty-five volumes, between 1751 and 1780, which was meant to cover the whole of knowledge, a complete conspectus of life. He was aided in this by many men but in particular by two men. The first was Jean Jacques Rousseau. Rousseau is vital to any consideration of the French Revolution. He was a voluminous writer and an undoubted genius. He published a number of books that had a profound effect on the thinking of the French people. In a book on education in 1762 he said that education was to be based entirely on natural instincts, and was to be entirely free from every competing influence of society, and especially the church. He introduced a rational view of everything. He discounted revelation and all revealed religion. He believed in a kind of natural religion based upon feeling and an experience of God; and he denounced any belief in a supernatural revelation. Then came his famous book called The Social Contract. In this book his argument is that the laws of the state are not of divine appointment and are not based upon Divine law but upon ‘the will of the people.’ We know about the view of John Locke and others but there is something that is quite new here. Those men, after all, were deists. But we now reach a point when that is no longer the case in these matters. These Frenchmen held a very optimistic view of human nature, and they refused to take the Christian revelation, and especially as regards salvation, seriously. The basis of society, they said, is to be that the members of the society are to agree to a social pact, not under God, but among men themselves. There had been an acknowledgment of God so far, but now that had ended. Men are to combine for freedom and for just government in the interests of the majority. That was essentially the teaching of The Social Contract. Then came Voltaire, who was much more violent that Rousseau, and very violently anti-Catholic and ‘anti’ all Christian dogma.

These two men had a tremendous effect upon the whole outlook of the French people. They were living under the government of their dissolute kings – it was a tyranny and all that resulted from that. These new ideas came in, and at the same time Jean Astruc – the father of Higher Criticism, and, I regret to say, a physician – introduced his teaching. That introduced a yet more direct attack upon the authority of the Bible. Men had more or less, in a general way, accepted the Bible and its teaching, but now all this began to be queried. All these tendencies worked together. In other words man became the centre, not God. Not only in matters connected with the state but also in matters of religion. Reason is supreme, not revelation. The idea of the ‘sovereign people’ came in, and all this led in 1789 to the Revolution and the great slogan of ‘liberty, equality and fraternity.’ This referred not only to political but also social matters and the whole of life; and so you get the beginning of the French Revolution. There were other elements, other strands. The teaching of Kant worked in this same direction. And in this country there was Thomas Paine who wrote his famous book The Rights of Man.

All this led to the French Revolution. It was a phenomenon that in a sense shook the world. At first most intelligent people welcomed it. In this country, for instance, it was eagerly welcomed by people like Coleridge and Wordsworth. One cannot really understand Wordsworth’s poetry apart from the French Revolution, especially such expressions as ‘Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive.’ The Prelude gives the history, and frequent references to the Revolution are found in other poems. These men, Wordsworth, Coleridge and others, really believed that this was the dawn of a new era – not the millennium in the biblical sense, but in their sense a kind of millennium. Men were going to be set free from all restraints and shackles, and a great new world was going to develop. However, it did not last very long. These men soon became disillusioned. The ‘reign of terror’ followed in France, and that in turn led to the dictatorship under Napoleon. That disillusioned Coleridge and Wordsworth and others and caused them to revert to their former views. John Wesley denounced the Revolution from the very beginning, and prophesied that this was going to be the introduction of ‘the time of the end.’ William Wilberforce, the leader in the cause for the abolition of slavery, regarded it with absolute horror. So there was a reaction against it in this country.

Coming to the nineteenth century we find the popular teaching of the German philosopher, Hegel, with its new view of history. It rejected the view that God guides history and taught that there is a dialectical process which governs history – thesis and antithesis producing a new synthesis. This changed people’s view of history altogether; and they believed that this dialectical process produced inevitable progress. This obviously meant that there was an entirely new attitude towards the church, the State, man, everything; indeed there was a complete new view of life. Hegel, in turn, was followed by a man whom he had influenced, Karl Marx, whose teaching is essential to an understanding of our own century. Whatever we may think of his views, Karl Marx was an extremely able man who thought about these problems very deeply, both political and social. In a sense his central thesis was the inevitability of revolution, and that the course of human history had followed a certain dialectical pattern which would lead on inevitably to the ‘dictatorship of the proletariat.’ This was inevitable. So this stimulated men to think about revolution. There were, of course, many variations among his followers as to the details of the teaching. Some tended to say that as this process was inevitable then there was no need for us to do anything. Others taught that we can hasten the process, we can help it along. The result of all this was that the nineteenth century in many ways was the century of revolution. We came very near to revolution several times in this country. There was unrest in the Manchester area, the ‘Peterloo Massacre’ of 1819 being long remembered. There were revolutions on the Continent in 1830, and very nearly a revolution in this country. Many like Macaulay held the view that if the Reform Bill which was passed in 1832 had not been passed, undoubtedly there would have been a revolution in this country. But the year of revolution was 1848 when there were revolutions in many countries on the continent.

All this was the result of this entirely new thinking that had gained currency. It was an attack on all established institutions, including the church and the state. It meant the rejection of all authority and the setting up of ‘the sovereign people,’ and their reason and understanding, as the arbiters in these matters.

I

We must now look at the way in which people reacted to all this. We have already seen that in this country, at first, people reacted against it. There is the oft-quoted statement of Halévy that the Methodist Awakening of the eighteenth century undoubtedly saved this country from a revolution such as that experienced in France. This country was cautious, and I believe there is much in what Halévy said. I would add to that that there was also the influence of the history of what had happened in the seventeenth century. After all, we had had a revolution in the seventeenth century; and you will remember that there was a reaction against that. The restoration of Charles II cannot be understood except in terms of a disillusionment with the Commonwealth period, and a feeling that government was impossible without some kind of a head, preferably a king. That introduced a note of caution and carefulness into the thinking of this country. The ‘Glorious Revolution’ of 1688 and the passing of the Bill of Rights in 1689 establishing a constitutional monarchy produced a settled order. So the tendency in this country right through the nineteenth century was to turn to political reform. The controlling belief was that you must have progress with order.

While that was true of the main church bodies and leaders it was not true of many of the followers. While most of the leaders of Methodism were really rank Tories, many of the Methodist people turned to Chartism, the teaching of Robert Owen and others, and became actively interested in Trade Unions. They believed and felt that the people had a right to liberate themselves from the tyranny and oppression under which not only industrial workers but also farm labourers suffered. So they entered into these movements of reform. Sometimes there was violence such as was seen in the Luddite activities, and the story of the Tolpuddle Martyrs; but on the whole the prevailing view was that which trusted to liberalism and reform. In brief I think that that is a fairly accurate picture of what happened in this country.

I turn now to something extremely interesting; to me, the most interesting reaction of all to the French Revolution. It was what took place in Holland. Here I call attention to a fascinating and most important man whose name was Groen Van Prinsterer. He was on all counts a most remarkable man. Born in very comfortable circumstances, he was trained in law and philosophy and history. He became secretary to the king, and eventually secretary to the cabinet. He had been brought up in a nominal religious atmosphere – the religion of his parents – and he was quite satisfied with it. He was sent on one occasion to do business for the king and the government to Brussels, and there he met and came under the influence of Merle d’Aubigné, the great historian of the Protestant Reformation. Under this influence – and that of the whole movement known as the Reveil which had started in Switzerland under Robert Haldane who had gone to live out there, and who influenced some students – Groen Van Prinsterer’s life was entirely changed. D’Aubigné was one of the people who was converted under that movement, and he happened to be in Brussels when Groen went there, and as a result of that meeting he was truly converted in 1828. This, of course, profoundly affected his whole view of politics and of everything else, and as he continued to think deeply he became increasingly a first-class historian. But he could not be content with being an academic historian. He felt that he must become involved also in politics. And the more he thought the more he saw the dangerous character of the French Revolution and all that it had introduced. The result of this was that he published a great book in 1847 with the title Unbelief and Revolution. It is a book of fifteen chapters, only one of which has so far been translated into English, namely, chapter eleven. I am glad to be informed by friends who are in this conference that two further chapters are on the verge of being published in English, and I do hope that some of our publishers will take this up and see that eventually the whole of this great book is published in English. Notice that it was published in 1847, the year before the many revolutions which took place in 1848.

In order to indicate Groen Van Prinsterer’s viewpoint let me quote his own words as they are translated into English. Writing about the French Revolution he says, ‘As respects theoretical origin and course, the Revolution cannot be compared with any occurrences of former times. Change of rulers, re-allocation of authority, change of forms of government, political controversy, many a difference of religious conviction – all these have, in principle, nothing in common with a social revolution whose nature is directed against every government, against every religion; with a social, or rather yet an anti-social revolution which undermines and destroys morality and society; with an anti-Christian revolution whose chief idea develops itself in systematic rebellion against the God of revelation. So Stahl: ‘I take the Revolution in its world-historical idea. It did not exist in its complete form before 1789. But since then it became a world power and the battle for or against it fills history.’ ‘The Revolution is a unique event. It is a revolution of beliefs; it is the emergence of a new sect, of a new religion; of a religion which is nothing but irreligion itself, atheism, the hatred of Christianity raised into a system.’

‘The revolution of the United Netherlands has been compared with it; also the revolution in North America. As respects the Netherlands I appeal to what I have often said, that “liberty of Christian exercise of religion was its chief object as oppression of the gospel was the chief cause of the war.” As respects America, I appeal to the remarkable work of Baird, who said: “In separating themselves from Great Britain and in reorganizing their respective governments, the United States modified their institutions much less than one would be able to expect there. King, parliament and Britannic justice were replaced for president, congress and the supreme court; but it was at bottom the same political system plus independence.” Still less may I recognize in the English revolutions a likeness of the French. If you find agreement between the revolutions of 1688 and 1789, read Burke on the similarity in outward appearance, the contrast in essence and principle. He says: “The present Revolution in France seems to me to be quite of another character and description and to bear little resemblance or analogy to any of those which have been brought about in Europe upon principles merely political. It is a revolution of doctrine and theoretic dogma.” Even with 1640, with the democratic tendency and with the tyranny of Cromwell, no comparison can be allowed in its chief conception. Says Tocqueville: “Nothing could be more dissimilar … In my opinion the two events are absolutely not to be compared.” And Stahl remarks: “The liberty of England and of America is permeated with the breath of the Puritans, the liberty of France is permeated with the breath of the Encyclopaedists and the Jacobins.”’

There we see Van Prinsterer’s essential point of view and his teaching. He did his best to propagate these views but he was very much a voice crying in the wilderness. But he was able to form, in a very embryonic manner, what became known as the Anti-Revolutionary Party. But fortunately another man arose, the great Abraham Kuyper, and Van Prinsterer soon recognized that Kuyper had public gifts which he himself lacked. Kuyper was a born orator, and a born statesman and eventually he became the Prime Minister of Holland. Groen Van Prinsterer brought Kuyper into the movement and soon handed it over to him; and so we know of, and tend to think of, Kuyper as the leader of the Anti-revolutionary Party, the Christian Party, and the many battles he fought in the political arena. Kuyper gave up being a minister of the church and eventually his professorship in the Free University which he himself had founded, in order to give himself to this political activity where he could introduce his Christian ideas and especially with regard to education. I wish I had time to go into all this thoroughly; but time only allows me merely to mention this most extraordinary and striking opposition to the whole principle of the French Revolution which took place in Holland. It did not take place in England; it did not take place in the United States of America; but in that little country it did. And there it stands as a great monument to the only real opposition to the whole notion behind the French Revolution.

Coming to this present century we find several striking events. Many of us, because these things were taking place in our own lifetime, do not realize what has been happening; but the Revolution in Russia in 1917 is a great landmark. The leaders of that Revolution, Lenin and Trotsky, claimed that they were putting into operation the theories and the teaching of Karl Marx. They have not done so; and it has been proved clearly that nothing could be further removed in a sense from the teaching of Marx, which advocates ultimately a class-less society and the end of all government, than the tyranny which we know exists in Russia and has done so for nearly sixty years. On the other hand, and at the other extreme, we have seen Mussolini and Fascism, and Hitler and Nazism. All these are essentially religious, as Van Prinsterer saw that the French Revolution was in reality a new religion, and not merely a political theory. There is an element of worship in them, and also an apocalyptic element. They are not merely political programmes, there is something much deeper and almost demonic. This is true of Fascism as well as of Communism.

These movements have had an effect and an influence in this country. Movements have arisen on what is termed the extreme Left and also the extreme Right; but until comparatively recently all this has taken a mainly political form. But when we come to the 1960s we are confronted by a new phenomenon. I refer to the appearance of what is known as ‘the theology of revolution’ or the ‘theology of liberation.’ This is an amazing phenomenon because it has mainly affected South America which is a Roman Catholic-dominated subcontinent. The movement has been led by various Catholics, the most prominent of whom was a Roman Catholic priest, Camilo Torres. He was actually killed in a gun battle as a guerilla fighter. Among his sayings was that ‘every Catholic who is not a revolutionary and is not on the side of revolutionaries, lives in mortal sin.’ An Archbishop of Brazil calls for the complete revolution of present structures on a socialist basis and without the shedding of blood. It is very interesting to observe that there have been these divisions in every century between revolutionaries who have believed in fighting and those who have said that you must not fight. Under the teaching of these men, and there are many others, conversion becomes ‘one’s commitment to the liberation of man from all sorts of oppression.’ The love of Jesus Christ becomes love for your neighbour. We are told that we meet God in an encounter with man, and so the division between the church and the world is reduced. We have seen elements of this in the notorious book Honest to God by John Robinson and others. Mission – this is their great word – becomes denunciation of, and a confronting of the present state of social injustice. In other words they teach that real Christianity means to liberate people from poverty, from political oppression and so on, and that the Christian church should be leading in this revolution.

What is particularly interesting is that this movement has mainly risen in the ranks of Roman Catholics. It is perhaps linked up with Pope John XXIII and his talk of liberation and various other ideas. This ‘theology of liberation’ has had considerable influence upon many of the leaders of the World Council of Churches. They have been discussing it recently at Nairobi. There are of course the two views again, but it is such an insistent emphasis that the leaders cannot ignore it; and there are many in this country and other countries who are interpreting the whole of the Bible in this way. But this teaching does violence to the whole notion of Christian salvation in a personal sense. According to it Christ came to set people free politically, socially, and then in other respects. They use the story of the liberation of the children of Israel from Egypt and their going to Canaan as the great illustration of this. This is what God wants and this is the great purpose of Christianity – to give people political and social liberty.

To sum up, we find that that which began in 1789 in France has spread world-wide and has been manifesting itself in these various ways. So by now we find ourselves in a world, and in a situation in society, in which men are asserting that they are the supreme authority. This expresses itself in this country in the attitude which says that, though Parliament may pass Acts, if we do not agree with them we need not observe them. The resulting lawlessness leads many people to ask the question: Is this country any longer governable? Can life and government continue when men cease to recognize any authority except what they think and what they believe? This is the state in which we find the world at the present time.

II

The question that arises therefore is, What are we to do in this situation? We have made this great review of history in this conference – what conclusions do we draw from it all? I start by making certain general statements which must of necessity take a very dogmatic form because of the limitation of time. The Christian is not only to be concerned about personal salvation. It is his duty to have a complete view of life as taught in the Scriptures. That is common to all the views that have been considered, apart from those which are non-religious, to which I have been referring. As far as the Christian is concerned – and that is what we are interested in now – we are not to be concerned only about personal salvation; we must have a world view. All of us who have ever read Kuyper, and others, have been teaching this for many long years. I must add, immediately, that it is equally clear, surely, from the study we have been making, that we all tend to be creatures of our times and much of our thinking is conditioned by the age in which we live. It is surely clear that this was true of the Reformers. It was true also of the Puritans. We must therefore be very careful not to follow slavishly anything that has been taught in the past. We are as responsible to God as the Reformers were, or as any Puritans were, and it is our business to interpret Scripture, as much as it was their duty to do so. We are not merely to be gramophone records of anyone who has lived in the past however august he may have been. That seems to me to be another inevitable conclusion.

Perhaps the thing that stands out most prominently is that what has bedevilled this whole question, and caused the greatest confusion throughout the centuries, has been the idea of a state church. That has been the greatest curse in the history of the church and of the world! This of course is seen especially in Roman Catholicism, in Eastern Orthodoxy in its various branches, and in Anglicanism – chiefly Anglicanism in this country. I suggest that this association between church and state has been responsible for many of the greatest calamities, directly, and also because of the violent reactions they have produced. We have seen how it produced such a violent reaction in France. It is very difficult to disentangle the antagonism to the king from the antagonism to the church. That was because they were one; and so when people revolt against the king they revolt against the church. That is what happened in France, and in Russia. The Russians had not only suffered under the tyranny of the Tsars – those dissolute men – but also under the tyranny of a foul creature like Rasputin, a priest, and the whole power of Russian Orthodoxy. So when they got rid of the one they got rid of the other also, because the two belonged together. And this is surely an acute problem both in Spain and in Portugal at the present time, and is likely to be an acute problem in Italy also and in various other countries.

III

Those are some of the very broad general conclusions at which we can arrive. Let me next suggest that there are certain dangers confronting us in this revolutionary situation, as they have confronted all who have been in it before us. There are three main dangers of which we have to be very wary. The first is that we must never allow ourselves as Christians to be thought of as mere defenders of the status quo. I put that first because historically it has been the greatest danger. Christianity has been equated with what has been termed the Establishment – king and church, king and bishop. This is the danger therefore of which we have to be very wary. Let me illustrate what I mean, because this has done grave harm to the Christian cause. Take the famous stanza written by Cecil Frances Alexander, the lady who wrote hymns such as ‘There is a green hill far away.’ It reads thus –

The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate;
God made them high or lowly
And ordered their estate.

We have given the impression far too often, as Christians, that that is our standpoint. But were Luther and Calvin guilty of this? It was surely their danger because of their belief in law and order. Wesley and Whitefield were certainly guilty of this. They were both horrified at the possibility of rebellion in America, and we have to confess that the record of Whitefield as regards slavery was very poor indeed. How human and how fallible we are! Many also in America who from 1773 to 1776 and after spoke and fought so strongly for their own liberty as against England and the oppression that England was guilty of, did not seem to see that the same applied to the poor black slaves whom they continued to buy and sell and to employ for nearly a hundred years afterwards. This shows us the limits of human understanding. The same was true in Wales of some of the great religious leaders and preachers. We were celebrating in 1974 the bicentenary of the birth of John Elias. John Elias was a thoroughgoing Tory. He stood, as did most of the Welsh Calvinistic Methodist, for conservatism; and they opposed what was then called liberalism.

But this has been especially true of the Roman Catholic Church. Throughout history you have had this alliance between Roman Catholicism and the king. It is interesting to observe how the Roman church, in a typical manner, changes her point of view from time to time according to changing circumstances. When the kings were in authority, they supported the kings and condemned revolutions; but when a revolution took place and another government came into power they justified rebellion against that government. The principle of ‘the just war’ could be manipulated to suit the exigencies of any particular situation! That has been prominent in the long story of Roman Catholicism; and that is what makes this new movement of ‘the theology of liberation’ so interesting. The same has been true of Orthodoxy, and also of Anglicanism. Is it not true that Anglicanism in the last century not only gave the impression, as has been said, of being ‘the Tory Party at prayer,’ but was also guilty of supporting the whole notion of colonialism? What is still more tragic is that the missionary enterprise was so often linked with colonialism and colonial ideas.

Whether you agree with the recent pronouncement of the General Secretary of the World Council of Churches or not, his assertion is true that this whole outlook, based upon the church-state idea, has been more productive of the problems of racialism confronting the new nations in Africa today than perhaps anything else. So we must be very careful not to give the impression that we are always on the side of the Establishment and the existing authorities. The Plymouth Brethren are by no means innocent in this respect. By regarding any participation in politics in any form as being the height of sin they inevitably landed themselves on the side of the status quo. The first Member of Parliament from among the Brethren told me and many others that he was more or less ostracised in his Brethren meeting because he had committed the terrible sin of taking part in politics. This shows how defective and contradictory our thinking can be. While they denounced a man for going into politics they never denounced men for going into the army. They gloried in the fact that certain of their members were generals and had had very high promotion. Are Evangelicals in the United States clear in this respect in their attitude to the coloured people? I have met some who base their whole attitude toward the coloured people on the fact that the latter are the descendants of Ham.

These are serious matters in a revolutionary age. Without our desiring to do so we can be jockeyed into a position in which we are regarded as mere defenders and advocates of the status quo. It is not insignificant, surely, that certain well-known evangelists are supported by numbers of millionaires, and that some of them in a recent presidential election even went so far as to propose that a certain evangelist might be put up as presidential candidate! They did this because of their political and economic interests. So, the impression has gained currency that to be a Christian, and more especially an evangelical, means that we are traditionalists, and advocates of the status quo.

I believe that this largely accounts for our failure in this country to make contact with the so-called working classes. Christianity in this country has become a middle-class movement; and I suggest that that is so because of this very thing. Nonconformity is by no means clear on this question. In the last century, and in this present century, far too often, as nonconformist men have got on in the world, and made money, and become managers and owners, they have become opponents of the working classes who were agitating for their rights. So it is as true of the nonconformists in this country as it is of the Anglicans and Roman Catholics and others. For some strange reason one of the greatest temptations to a man who becomes a Christian is to become respectable. When he becomes a Christian he also tends to make money; and if he makes money, he wants to keep that money, and resents the suggestion that he should share that money with others by means of taxation etc. Looking at history it seems to me that one of the greatest dangers confronting the Christian is to become a political conservative, and an opponent of legitimate reform, and the legitimate rights of people.

We must now turn to the second danger, which is the exact opposite. We always tend to go from one extreme to the other. In this conference, which has had to be selective, we have not considered the Levellers; but they were important people in the seventeenth century. The Levellers were not an accident. They played a prominent part in the debates held in Putney under the auspices of the army, and then in the later discussions that took place on these very matters in Whitehall as to how the country was to be governed, and what was to be done with the church. There were also the Fifth Monarchy Men, the Millenarians and many groups such as the Diggers in the seventeenth century. They did not belong to the mainline Puritans, but Cromwell – who was perhaps the most honest man in the seventeenth century, a man who strove to be true to his conscience above all others that I know of in political history – was ready to listen to them. He was torn between these various ideas, and his sympathies were on both sides. These men objected to the whole hierarchical view of life. They actually anticipated most of what is being demanded at the present time. They said that God was over all, even over kings and bishops. The individual soul and personal experience were of vital interest to them, and they claimed their right to express their opinions. The Methodist Awakening of the next century emphasized this also and stressed the importance of personal experience, and assurance of salvation – man and his standing before God. They taught a new notion of humanity and of the common people. They realized that they had brains; that is why they wanted to be taught to read and write. All this is inevitable, it is a natural outworking of true Christianity. So when you come to the nineteenth century you find that these Christian men were concerned about reform. In Sheffield the poet Ebenezer Elliott wrote in his moving manner –

When wilt thou save the people,
O God of mercy, when?
The people, Lord, the people,
Not thrones and crowns, but men.

This was the spirit. Throughout the centuries the talk had been about thrones and crowns and kings; but it is men that matter, so these men were concerned about reform. The result was that Nonconformity in the nineteenth century became very interested in reform.

It is vital, however, that we should realize that it was mainly political reform that interested them. What they agitated for, and fought for, was political equality. Macaulay understood this. He was a very astute thinker. At the time of the Reform Bill, as I told you, he was very fearful that there might be a revolution. But the Reform Bill was passed, and he saw that the danger had gone, but he realized that it was but a temporary respite. He said that the agitators were satisfied for the time being because they had the vote. They were being given more political equality. But he saw, and said, that the real problem, the ultimate problem would arise when the masses asked for economic equality and complete economic freedom. I suggest that we have already reached that particular point.

So Nonconformity, on the whole, in this country was content during the nineteenth century with political reform and political freedom. Today this concern is represented partly by the recent movement which emphasizes ‘The cultural mandate,’ and teaches that it is our primary duty as Christians to see that the lordship of Christ is exercised in every realm and department of life – in drama, art, literature, politics, in Trade Unions and in every other respect. Finally, there is this movement teaching the ‘theology of liberation or revolution.’ In practice in most countries, including ours, the latter is showing itself as a spirit of lawlessness. It is a defiance even of laws passed by the majority, and at times defiance of the guidance and instruction given by their own appointed leaders. The legitimate desire for reform has tended to give way to a spirit of revolution and lawlessness.

The third danger is to advocate complete other-worldliness. I have already dealt with that by emphasizing that it is the duty of the Christian always to be concerned about these matters and to have a world view.

IV

What, then, are we to do in the light of all this? What has this conference taught us? It was designed to help us to face the revolutionary position in which we find ourselves. The first and most obvious lesson must be that there is no blueprint in this matter. We have been hearing how great men, men of God, men who were concerned above all else about exposition of Scripture, exegesis and interpretation, differed and disagreed. We have heard of the different points of view, and disagreements; and we are left to face the position for ourselves, very much as they were. We have the advantage of knowing what they thought and said, whether we think it was right or wrong; but we certainly do not have any ready-made solution.

So, we must go back to the Scripture and attempt to summarize its teaching. The first is, that the New Testament never advocates revolution, but rather the reverse. Take the attitude to slavery for instance. Surely it is of importance at this point. Notice that the New Testament when dealing with this did not denounce slavery as such, or try to put an end to it. Its approach is illustrated in the Epistle to Philemon, for instance, where the apostle Paul makes a spiritual appeal and urges that the slave, though still remaining a slave, should now be regarded as a brother and a brother beloved. There is no broadside attack upon institutions such as slavery. Still more significant, surely, is the symbolical character of the Apocalypse, the book of Revelation, where the situation is dealt with quite deliberately in a symbolic manner in order that the Christians might receive comfort and help and enlightenment, but without aggravating the position, or adding to their sufferings, by a denunciation of the worldly and religious powers that were opposed to them and persecuting them. A fair reading of the New Testament leaves us with that impression, that Christianity is not a revolutionary movement in the sense that this new theology of revolution or liberation would have us believe. That is entirely contrary to the New Testament teaching. On the other hand, the Christian is represented as ‘salt’ in society and ‘leaven,’ and surely the whole point of those comparisons is that Christian influence is to be a quiet influence and a slow process of influencing society.

In the light of that principle it seems to me that we can justify the attitude of Luther and Calvin at the time of the Reformation as over and against that of the Anabaptists. Is it not true to say that, in the situation that obtained at that time, and remembering especially the views of the state, and the relation between the church and the state then held commonly, that Luther and Calvin probably saved the Protestant Reformation. That was surely the motive that governed their attitude to the Anabaptists and to the Peasants’ Revolt.

The seventeenth century, I would suggest, was mainly a political revolution. While the ministers, the preachers, were involved for spiritual reasons, it was essentially, and mainly a political revolution. It can be argued that the ideas entered the minds of the politicians through the preachers and their teaching. I would accept that, but I would still maintain that the revolution itself was primarily political. I would venture to say that the American War of Independence was mainly political also. The great influx in the population of which we heard had a great deal to do with it, and in spite of the influences on the part of the preachers the whole outlook leading to the war was essentially a political one.

Nothing is clearer from the history than that there is tension always between liberty and order. This is the great problem. Am I right when I suggest that the danger of Calvinism is always to overstress order? Order has to be stressed, the danger is to over-stress it. Arminianism over-stresses liberty. It produced the laissez-faire view of economics, and it always introduces inequalities – some people becoming enormously wealthy, and others languishing in poverty and in destitution. That outlook, which is essentially Arminian, always leads to a reaction – chaos first, then a violent reaction ending in a dictatorship on either the right or the left.

Another general remark at this point is that a lack of political and social concern on the part of Christians can very definitely alienate people from the gospel and the church. I hasten to add, on the other hand, that a demonstration of great interest in political and social matters never succeeds in attracting people to Christianity. The history of the past proves that conclusively. Christopher Hill says that there were two revolutions in the seventeenth century. The one he is most interested in, the political and social, he says failed. The Restoration of Charles II proves that. At the same time it is clear that the attempt to reform people by Acts of Parliament has always failed; and the state of the world today proves that that cannot succeed. It is pathetic, not to say ludicrous, to notice the way in which certain modern Evangelicals, who seem to have started reading some ten or twelve years ago, after having spent their time exclusively in evangelistic activities, are now rushing their ill-digested reading into print, and seem to think that they are innovators in saying that we should all be taking an interest in politics and social matters. They do not seem to have heard of the ‘social gospel’ craze of the earlier part of this century. All this has been tried with great thoroughness. I well remember certain men who were concerned about social and political matters, and who constantly preached on such themes, and packed their chapels for a while, but only as long as they preached politics. The moment they began to preach the gospel truly the crowds left them. Politically-minded people are always ready to make use of the church, but they always abandon and shun her when she ceases to be of any value to them.

We must always remember these two aspects. If we give the impression that we have no concern about political and social matters we shall alienate people; and I suggest that we have done so, and so the masses are outside the church. On the other hand, if we think we are going to fill our churches and solve our problems by preaching politics and taking an interest in social matters we are harbouring a very great delusion.

V

What then is our position? We start from the position that the Christian citizen is a man who says that his citizenship is in heaven. ‘Our citizenship is in heaven’ (Phil. 3:20). Christ said, ‘My kingdom is not of this world.’ The Christian’s primary concern must always be the kingdom of God, and then, because of that, the salvation of men’s souls. The Christian is a ‘pilgrim and a stranger.’ He is a traveller and a sojourner in this world. Those are preliminary assumptions.

At this point I ask a question: Does eschatology come in at this point? I believe it does. The Christian, if he is at all instructed must have a view of history. The Bible has a view of history. There is a Christian view of history, and surely it is that everything is leading to an end. There is a development and a progress in history, and it is all leading up to ‘that one far off divine event to which the whole creation moves’ – our Lord’s Second Coming. This is basic to the whole of the New Testament teaching. It ends with, ‘Even so, come, Lord Jesus.’ The main function of government and of culture and of all these agencies is mainly to restrain evil, to make life possible, and indeed to introduce an element of enjoyment into life. That all comes under common grace, but that ultimate great event dominates everything. And I believe that if we are to face our particular age truly we have to face that question. Remembering all the warnings against being concerned about the ‘times and seasons,’ and as one who has been emphasizing that for nearly fifty years, I ask whether there are not indications that we may be in ‘the end of time.’ Are we reaching the ultimate stage? The sign of being in that ‘time,’ I would suggest, is the worship of man. The number of man, 666! Are we reaching that? Is not democracy bound of necessity to lead to that ultimately? The moment democracy loses any kind of biblical sanction it is bound to lead to the worship of men and the setting up of men as the ultimate power over against God, and indeed as god. We are in an age when man is being worshipped. ‘Man come of age,’ ‘Man come into his own,’ Man claiming even to be now in the position to exercise the ‘powers of the Creator’ as a Cambridge professor put it a year or two back. These are the characteristic phrases of today. And we are witnessing anti-God movements and a whole world attitude of anti-God. Not only so, the Turkish Empire has been destroyed, and the Jews are in Palestine. How difficult it is for us to understand how the Puritans could think that England was the elect nation. England is not the elect nation. God’s ancient people are the elect nation. That nation because of its disobedience was put on one side, and Christ said that God was going to give the kingdom to ‘a nation that bringeth forth the fruits thereof’ – the church. But he has not abandoned his ancient people. So, it seems to me, there are certain signs which should at least make us think. I find them to be of great comfort as we face the confusion and the chaos of the present time. Are we not also perhaps beginning to witness a crumbling and a final destruction of the Roman Catholic Church? I do not know. But it is our business as Christians to keep our eyes open. We are exhorted to do so. We are exhorted to expect certain signs by our Lord in his last great addresses.

VI

So I come to my final conclusion. I suggest we are back in New Testament times again. A whole era began to come to an end with the French Revolution in 1789. We are now back to the New Testament position; we are like the New Testament Christians. The world can never be reformed. Never! That is absolutely certain. A Christian state is impossible. All the experiments have failed. They had to fail. They must fail. The Apocalypse alone can cure the world’s ills. Man even at his best, even as a Christian, can never do so. You can never make people Christians by Acts of Parliament. You can never christianize society. It is folly to attempt to do so. I would even suggest that it is heresy to do so. Men must be ‘born again.’ How can they live the Christian life if they have not become Christians? Good fruit can only come from a good tree, a good root; and the idea that you can impose a Christian life or culture upon non-Christian people is a contradiction of Christian teaching. Nevertheless, government and law and order are essential because man is in sin; and the Christian should be the best citizen in the country. But as all are sinful, reform is legitimate and desirable. The Christian must act as a citizen, and play his part in politics and other matters in order to get the best possible conditions. But we must always remember that politics is ‘the art of the possible’; and so the Christian must remember as he begins that he can only get the possible. Because he is a Christian he must work for the best possible and be content with that which is less than fully Christian. That is what Abraham Kuyper seems to me to have done. I have recently read the life of Kuyper again and it is clear that his enactments as Prime Minister and head of the government were almost identical with the radicalism of Lloyd George. They were two very different men in many ways but their practical enactments were almost identical. The chief respect in which they differed was in their view of education.

I now come to what, to me, in many ways is the most important matter of all. I suggest that this is the main conclusion at which the conference should arrive. The Christian must never get excited about reform, or about political action. That raises for me a problem with respect to the men of the seventeenth century and other times. It is that they should have become so excited about these matters. I would argue that the Christian must of necessity have a profoundly pessimistic view of life in this world. Man is ‘in sin’ and therefore you will never have a perfect society. The coming of Christ alone is going to produce that. The Christian not only does not get excited, he never pins his hopes to Acts of Parliament, or any reform or any improvement. He believes in improvement, but he never pins his hopes to it, he never gets excited or over-enthusiastic; still less does he become fanatical or bigoted about these matters.

Another principle of great importance at a time such as this is that there is no point in changing one form of tyranny for another. There is also no point in fighting against impossible odds. So in many countries today the Christian can do nothing but indulge in passive resistance, and he must continue in that until a point arrives that his government tries to interfere with his relationship to God, or his worship of God. His resistance must then become an active resistance. But should he live in a country where a large number of people are agreed about reform and improvement, and that seems possible, I would say that it is his duty to join them and to belong to them. But he must never be foolish or foolhardy. He must be passive in his resistance until he feels that it is possible to produce the desirable form.

So the Christian is left with this profound pessimism with regard to the present, but with a glorious optimism with regard to the ultimate and the eternal future.

How does he live in the meantime? He must heed the great exhortations of the Scripture, and at a time such as this our Lords’ exhortation is – ‘Take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares. For as a snare shall it come on all them that dwell on the face of the whole earth. Watch ye therefore, and pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of man’ (Luke 21:34-36). That is our supreme duty, and I suggest that the primary function of preachers at the present time is to constantly urge that exhortation upon their people. We are not to get excited about the ‘christianizing’ of art or politics or anything else, imagining that you can do so. Exhort people to be ready and prepared; warn them. This surely is the primary business of the preacher at a time like this.

As for the people, they are to act according to their consciences at all times. Ultimately we cannot dictate to another man as to what he is to do. Niemoller in Germany defied Hitler and was sent to prison. Another Christian, Erich Sauer did not do so, and was able to continue with his ministry. We get this difference constantly. A man like Hromodka a Czechoslovakian, was able to justify himself as a Christian preacher and professor in a communist country, whereas other people spend most of their time in denouncing communism. I suggest that our overriding concern should always be our relationship to God, and our looking for, and longing for the coming of Christ. That is the only answer. Man has reached the ultimate. He can no longer be persuaded. He has gone beyond that and worships himself. I can see nothing beyond the present position. Democracy is the ultimate and highest human idea of government but because of man’s fallen sinful nature it must lead to lawlessness and chaos.

Little can be done to arrest this or prevent it; so we look to this ‘glorious appearing of our great God and Saviour,’ and in the meantime we do our utmost to open the eyes of our fellow men and women to what is coming to them. They are entitled to liberty and freedom; but, still more important, they have to meet God and stand before him in judgment.

So I end by saying that we must live as the early Christians did. In the final analysis, to the Christian what do all these things matter? What is your life, the life about which we get so excited and are ready to fight, and to agitate, and to quarrel and to divide. ‘What is your life? It is but a vapour.’ ‘In this tabernacle we do groan being burdened,’ and we shall continue to do so until the King comes, and ‘the kingdoms of this world become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ.’

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‘Why do you go to church twice on Sunday? Isn’t once enough?’ Since the practice of attending worship twice on Sunday has fallen on hard times this is a question that is often asked of Reformed Christians. Many people in our culture find it amazing that anyone would actually want to go to church both in the morning and in the evening on Sunday. Others find the idea of attending worship twice to be an inconvenience that takes up too much of their weekend. Sadly, even many Reformed Christians do not see the great significance of attending church twice on the Lord’s Day and, therefore, of remaining uncommitted to the practice. If you have ever wondered about the purpose of having two services on the Sabbath, let me encourage you to think carefully about the following:

1. Evening Worship Is Rooted in Scripture

While there is no explicit command in the New Testament to have two worship services instead of one, there is, nevertheless, a clear pattern in Scripture of ‘morning and evening’. This is seen in the order of creation as God structured time for us humans in terms of mornings and evenings (Gen.1–2). This pattern was also evident in Old Covenant worship as God commanded the daily offerings in the tabernacle to be made once in the morning and then again at twilight (Num. 28:1–10, cf. Exod. 29:38–39). This is why the psalmist declares in Psalm 92, which is explicitly identified as a psalm for the Sabbath, ‘It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name, O Most High; to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night’ (verses 1–2; cf. Psa.134:1). It is not unreasonable, therefore, to believe that this pattern of morning and evening carries over into New Covenant worship, especially since the New Testament gives evidence of worship services that took place on the evening of the first day of the week (see Acts 20:7).

2. Evening Worship Helps Us To Sanctify the Lord’s Day

One great practical benefit of having both morning and evening worship is that it provides an excellent structure to help families sanctify the Lord’s Day. The two worship services become like bookends on the Sabbath, allowing the Christian more easily to keep the day holy as we are commanded, rather than merely sanctifying a couple of hours in the morning! (Despite what is popular in our culture, it is still the Lord’s Day and not ‘the Lord’s Morning’.) Since the keeping of his day is a mark of God’s covenant community that sets it apart as holy and reminds its members that they are pilgrims on the way to the eternal Sabbath, evening worship provides a beautiful rhythm for the Lord’s Day. For centuries thousands upon thousands of Christians have found the interval between the morning and evening worship services the perfect time for food, fellowship, devotional reading, family prayer, acts of mercy or – by no means the least important – a good nap! Freed up from all the craziness of the week, Christians are able to enjoy a day of worship and rest. What better way to end the holy day than by gathering together with the covenant community for the Word, fellowship, sacrament and the prayers (cf. Acts 2:42)?

3. Evening Worship, Like Morning Worship, Is a Means of Grace

Heidelberg Catechism Question and Answer 65 asks, ‘Since then we are made partakers of Christ and all his benefits by faith only, from where comes this faith?’ It answers: ‘The Holy Spirit works it in our hearts by the preaching of the gospel, and confirms it by the use of the holy sacraments.’ One of the main reasons why the evening worship service has been greatly neglected in our day is because of a generally low view of preaching and the sacraments. Who wants to sit through another boring sermon when one can get a bigger ‘blessing’ in a small-group Bible study, personal devotions or some other programme?

But if preaching and the sacraments are truly God’s primary means of grace for our sanctification, then surely Christians would not want to miss a worship service. Indeed, as Dr. W. Robert Godfrey has half-seriously pointed out, the question isn’t, ‘Why two worship services on Sunday?’ The question more rightly should be, ‘Why not three or four?’ If God nourishes our faith by the preaching of the gospel, why wouldn’t we want to hear the gospel preached more than once on Sunday? Since ‘faith comes from hearing and hearing through the word of Christ’ (Rom. 10:17) and it is the ‘the preaching of Jesus Christ’ that strengthens us (Rom. 16:25), we must realize that the evening worship service provides another opportunity for our faith to be built up and our knowledge of Christ to grow. It provides a broader scope of preaching on the whole counsel of God, allowing the pastor to take his congregation through more of Scripture than only one service would allow. It is for this reason that the elders call the congregation to worship twice each Lord’s Day. As those to whom Christ has given the high calling of ‘keeping watch over [our] souls’ (Heb.13:17), they call us to worship not only so that we may serve the Lord twice on his holy day, but also so that we may benefit from God’s ordained means of grace. As God’s Word commands us to obey and to submit to our elders (again, see Heb.13:17), we should respond to the call to worship as a joyful act of obedience to the Lord.

4. Evening Worship Gives Us Continuity with the Historic Christian Church

Oftentimes Christians baulk at the practice of attending the evening worship service because it is not a part of their custom. What they must understand, however, is that if what they are accustomed to is only one service on the Lord’s Day, then they are not accustomed to the practice of the historic Christian church but to a modern novelty. As we look at the history of the church, we see that morning and evening worship on the Lord’s Day was the norm. In the early fourth century the church historian Eusebius of Caesarea described what he understood to be the universal practice of the church:

For it is surely no small sign of God’s power that throughout the whole world in the churches of God at the morning rising of the sun and at the evening hours, hymns, praises, and truly divine delights are offered to God. God’s delights are indeed the hymns sent up everywhere on earth in his Church at the times of morning and evening. (emphasis mine)¹

During the Middle Ages, morning worship became known as ‘lauds’ and evening worship as ‘vespers’. Attending both lauds and vespers was standard practice for Christians. At the time of the Reformation, the custom of morning and evening worship continued, as is evidenced in the liturgies of the Reformed churches in the sixteenth century. Typically the evening (or, in many cases, afternoon) service was devoted to an exposition of Reformed doctrine and was more catechetical in nature. So important was this second service to the life of the Reformed churches, that when it was threatened by the protests of the Remonstrants (Arminians), the matter was brought to the Synod of Dort (1618–19) and discussed at great length. The overwhelming testimony at the Synod by delegates from countries all over Europe was that the second service was something to be guarded and cherished in order that the Reformed faith might continue to flourish and Christians to have greater opportunity to mature in their understanding. Through the centuries this practice continued to be a principal part of Reformed worship, as can be traced in the traditions of the Dutch Reformed churches, English Puritanism and Scottish Presbyterianism, as well as in Anglicanism and early Lutheranism. Thus it must be understood that Protestant churches that have dropped the evening worship service altogether have sharply departed from what has historically been a normal practice of Christ’s church.

As one charged with the responsibility of feeding the flock of Christ and watching out for their souls, let me encourage you to attend the evening worship service. It is good for your soul! Indeed, some families have legitimate, pastoral reasons why attending the evening worship service is not merely an inconvenience, but a practical impossibility. But often those who do not attend evening worship do so merely out of an attitude that asks, ‘What is the least that is required of me?’ Let us lay aside such ungrateful thinking and be reminded that we are pilgrims on the way to our heavenly home. Just as our lives are marked with the beautiful sabbatical rhythm of six-and-one that was established in creation and looks forward to the consummation, so also we have a beautiful rhythm of worship each Lord’s Day that provides an opportunity both in the morning and the evening to gather together with God’s covenant community, to serve him in worship, and to receive from his open hand his good gifts of Word and sacrament.

Linked Photo by Raphael Andres on Unsplash

The post A Call to Preserve Evening Worship Services appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Mr Spurgeon is a Calvinist, which few of the dissenting ministers in London now are. He preaches salvation, not of man’s free will, but of the Lord’s good will, which few in London, it is to be feared, now do.
John Anderson of Helensburgh
The Early Years, p. 339.

I do not hesitate to say, that next to the doctrine of the crucifixion and the resurrection of our blessed Lord – no doctrine had such prominence in the early Christian Church as the doctrine of the election of grace.
C.H.S., Sermons, 6, 302.

The doctrine of grace has been put by in the lumber chamber. It is acknowledged to be true, for it is confessed in most creeds; it is in the Church of England articles, it is in the confessions of all sorts of Protestant Christians, except those who are avowedly Arminian, but how little is it ever preached! It is put among the relics of the past. It is considered to be a respectable sort of retired officer, who is not expected to see any more active service.
C.H.S., Sermons, 12, 429.

In the previous chapter we sought to recover the image of Spurgeon as he was in the days of his New Park Street ministry. The picture which emerged was not that of a jovial pulpit phenomenon upon whom men lavished their praise but rather of a youth whose arrival amidst the soothing and sleepy religious life of London was about as unwelcome as the Russian cannons which were then thundering in the far-off Crimea. The facts come as somewhat of a jolt to us, for we have more or less become accustomed to look upon Spurgeon as a benign grandfather of modern evangelicalism. When the revival of 1855 and onwards shook Southwark out of its spiritual slumber, the name of the pastor of New Park Street was a symbol of reproach, and blows were rained on him from every direction; the name has since been turned into a symbol of evangelical respectability and we tend to comfort ourselves amidst the prevailing defection from evangelical principles with the thought that the religious world has still some remembrance of a man holding our position whose influence not so many years ago encircled the globe. Yet when we recall the real character of his ministry our comfort may evaporate, for we are faced with the question, not how much we admire Spurgeon, but what would a man like this think of the church today?

We have already spoken of the general characteristics of his early life and they need to be borne in mind as we turn to more detailed aspects of the doctrine he preached. It would be an injustice to the man in any way to separate the truth which he held from the spirit in which he lived. His doctrinal convictions were not formulated in the cool detachment of intellectual study. Rather they were burned into him by the Holy Spirit, irradiated by his love for his Redeemer, and kept fresh in his ministry by communion with God. Spurgeon had little sympathy for men who held an orthodox system which was devoid of the living unction of the Spirit.

One of the first attacks which was made on Spurgeon’s ministry after his settlement in London came from a section of the Baptist community which could at that time be described as ‘Hyper-Calvinist’. The label is not one that Spurgeon liked to use, for he regarded the introduction of the great Reformer’s name as a misnomer: ‘Calvinists, such men may call themselves, but, unlike the Reformer, whose name they adopt, they bring a system of divinity to the Bible to interpret it, instead of making every system, be its merits what they may, yield, and give place to the pure and unadulterated Word of God.’ In the January 1855 issue of The Earthen Vessel, an anonymous writer of this school cast doubt on Spurgeon’s whole position and call to the ministry. Spurgeon’s untraditional phraseology, the crowds which followed him, his general invitations and exhortations to all hearers to repent and believe the gospel, and the ‘broadness’ of his theology were all grounds for suspicion. He was neither narrow enough nor discriminating enough for his critic, who complained: ‘Spurgeon preaches all doctrine and no doctrine; all experience, and therefore no experience.’

For a reason which will later be apparent, the youthful preacher was not concerned to meet this attack; nevertheless he did sometimes pause in the course of a sermon to deal with  the views of the Hyper-Calvinists. Sometimes his reflections are semi-humorous, as the following:

Is there not many a good ‘Hyper’ brother, who has a full knowledge of the doctrines of grace; but when he is reading the Bible, one day, he finds a text that looks rather wide and general, and he says, ‘This cannot mean what it says; I must trim it down and make it fit into Dr Gill’s commentary’?

More often he deals much more sharply with the principles which lead to this kind of practice, for Hyper-Calvinism not only causes personal lopsidedness, but what is more serious, it prevents a full preaching of the gospel.¹

I do not believe [he declares in the course of a sermon on the Good Samaritan] in the way in which some people pretend to preach the gospel. They have no gospel for sinners as sinners, but only for those who  are above the dead level of sinnership, and are technically styled sensible sinners.

We must break the quotation for a moment to clarify his terminology: Hyper-Calvinism in its attempt to square all gospel truth with God’s purpose to save the elect, denies there is a universal command to repent and believe, and asserts that we have only warrant to invite to Christ those who are conscious of a sense of sin and need. In other words, it is those who have been spiritually quickened to seek a Saviour and not those who are in the death of unbelief and indifference, to whom the exhortations of the gospel must be addressed.

In this way a scheme was devised for restricting the gospel to those who, there is reason to suppose, are elect. Spurgeon continues:

Like the priest in this parable, they see the poor sinner, and they say ‘He is not conscious of his need, we cannot invite him to Christ’; ‘He is dead,’ they say, ‘it is of no use preaching to dead souls’; so they pass by on the other side, keeping close to the elect and quickened, but having nothing whatever to say to the dead, lest they should make out Christ to be too gracious, and his mercy to be too free . . . I have known ministers say, ‘Well, you know, we ought to describe the sinner’s state, and warn him, but we must not invite him to Christ.’ Yes, gentlemen, you must pass by on the other side, after having looked at him, for on your own confession you have no good news for the poor wretch. I bless my Lord and Master he has given me a gospel which I can take to dead sinners, a gospel which is available for the vilest of the vile.²

Spurgeon was urgent upon this issue because he saw that if the sinner’s warrant for receiving the gospel lies in any internal qualifications or feelings, then the unconverted, as such, have no immediate duty to believe on Christ, and they may conclude that because they do not feel any penitence or need, the command to believe on the Son of God is not addressed to them. On the other hand, if the warrant rests not in anything in the sinner but solely in the command and invitations of God, then we have a message for every creature under heaven. Spurgeon did not believe that the fact of election should be concealed from the unconverted, but he held that Hyper-Calvinism, by directing men’s attention away from the centrality of personal faith in Christ, had distorted³ the New Testament emphasis and bolstered up complacency in unbelievers. It had alleged that because faith is wrought in man by the power of the Spirit of God, then we cannot command men to believe, but in so doing it by-passed the stark fact that unbelief is always presented to us in Scripture as sin for which we are responsible: ‘If you had not fallen you would come to Christ the moment he was preached to you; but you do not because of your sinfulness.’ Man’s failure to comply with the gospel, instead of being excusable, is the highest expression of his depravity.

It should be clear from this that Hyper-Calvinism is more than a mere theoretical deviation from the gospel, and Spurgeon spoke strongly because he knew by experience that it reduces churches to inactivity or even complete paralysis. ‘I have met with some brethren who have tried to read the Bible the wrong way upwards. They have said, “God has a purpose which is certain to be fulfilled, therefore we will not budge an inch. All power is in the hands of Christ, therefore we will sit still;” but that is not Christ’s way of reading the passage. It is, “All power is given unto me, therefore go ye, and do something.”’⁴ ‘The lazy-bones of our orthodox churches cry, “God will do His own work”; and then they look out the softest pillow they can find, and put it under their heads, and say, “The eternal purposes will be carried out: God will be glorified.” That is all very fine talk, but it can be used with the most mischievous design. You can make opium out of it, which will lull you into a deep and dreadful slumber, and prevent your being of any kind of use at all.’⁵

At no point was Hyper-Calvinism more seriously at fault, in Spurgeon’s eyes, than in its failure to be characterized by zeal for militant and world-wide evangelism. While he knew that not a few Christians of this persuasion were better than their creed, he saw clearly that both the theological and historical evidence indicated that the influence of this teaching never promoted earnest missionary work. If the gospel is only for sensible sinners, how then can the church act under the compulsion of her commission to ‘Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature’? If the warrant to believe only belongs to the penitent, then it does not belong to all men everywhere, for the multitudes of the earth are not in that condition:

I would like to carry one of those who only preach to sensible sinners, and set him down in the capital of the kingdom of Dahomey. There are no sensible sinners there! Look at them, with their mouths stained with human blood, with their bodies smeared all over with the gore of their immolated victims – how will the preacher find any qualification there? I know not what he could say, but I know what my message would be. My word would run thus – ‘Men and brethren, God, who made the heavens and the earth, hath sent His Son Jesus Christ into the world to suffer for our sins, and whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.⁶

‘The day was,’ he says in another sermon, ‘when the very idea of sending the gospel to the heathen was regarded by our orthodox brethren as a piece of Don Quixotism, not to be attempted, and even now, if you say, “All the world for Jesus,” they open their eyes and say, “Ah, we are afraid you are tainted with universal redemption, or are going off to the Arminian camp.” God grant these dear brethren new hearts and right spirits; at present their hearts are too small to bring Him much glory. May they get larger hearts, hearts something like their Lord’s, and may they have grace given them to estimate the precious blood at a higher rate, for our Lord did not die to buy a few hundred of souls, or to redeem to Himself a handful of people; He shed His blood for a number which no man can number, and His elect shall excel in multitude the sands which belt the sea.’⁷

The above quotations are vitally important for a variety of reasons, Firstly, they indicate that there is a real difference between Biblical Calvinism and Hyper-Calvinism. The latter term is sometimes used as though it were simply a stronger formulation of Scriptural doctrines – something beyond a ‘moderate’ position – but this is an incorrect usage, for the system deviates seriously from Scripture and falls short of Scripture. Another wrong usage of the term, which is even more common, is for the label ‘hyper-’ or ‘ultra-’ Calvinist to be attached to those who are in fact opposed to Hyper-Calvinism. Being ignorant of the distinct theological differences which separate Hyper-Calvinism from the faith of the Reformers and Puritans, and being unaware of its different historical origins, some critics use the phrase as though it were the most suitable to describe anyone who is earnest in opposing the tenets of Arminianism. But while this may be a convenient way to brand ‘extremists’, it reveals the spiritual muddle of those who thus use it. Spurgeon, however, had frequently to put up with this treatment and it is not unknown today.

If the reader turns to the twentieth-century biographies of Spurgeon he will have no difficulty in finding references to the preacher’s opposition to the ‘hyper’ school. J. C. Carlile, for example, says, ‘Naturally Mr Spurgeon’s theology often brought him into controversy,’ and he immediately proceeds to mention the controversy we have sketched above. We are left with the impression that Spurgeon was just like we are – opposed to extremes, and we are confirmed in this feeling when we are told by W. Y. Fullerton that ‘he broke away from the sterner school’.⁸ Of course we are given a vague statement of Spurgeon’s Calvinism, but Carlile adds that ‘the stern truths of the Calvinist faith were held practically by all Protestants’.⁹ So with such assurances we are unsuspectingly allowed to suppose that the doctrinal content of Spurgeon’s preaching caused no great uproar in the religious world of his day. This is all thoroughly misleading. The twentieth-century biographers have in fact entirely passed over the greatest controversy of his early ministry; there is not even a whisper of the word which echoes through the six volumes of the New Park Street sermons; it cannot be found in the indexes to these biographies. Why should modern evangelicals be so much concerned to make the word ‘Arminianism’ vanish away?¹⁰

Whatever the purpose, this method of dealing with Spurgeon has quite effectively created an impression of the man which has wide currency today; yet we believe this impression of the nature of Spurgeon’s ‘evangelicalism’ is one which a study of his autobiography and a study of his unabridged sermons thoroughly demolishes. When a small selection of his sermons, entitled Revival Year Sermons, was published in 1959 to commemorate the revival of a century earlier, some British reviewers could not refrain from expressing their feeling that the sermons were ‘hand-picked’ in an attempt to put over a party position which was not really Spurgeonic at all, and when the same sermons were translated into Spanish by a minister of that country, Spanish Baptists questioned the veracity of the translation! We may smile at the story of the Victorian schoolboy who thought that Spurgeon was the Prime Minister of England but it seems there are similar wild ideas about what kind of man he really was, current at the present time.

In expanding these statements it is first necessary to show that the prevalent doctrinal outlook in the 1850s was not Calvinistic, as Carlile affirms, but rather Arminian, and it was chiefly because Spurgeon stood against this that his arrival in London was looked upon with such disfavour by the religious world. Spurgeon’s exchanges with Hyper-Calvinism were only skirmishes compared to the battle which he had to fight on quite a different and much wider front; he judged that Hyper-Calvinism was held only by a group, with comparatively small and scattered influence, within the Baptist denomination, whereas he regarded Arminianism as an error which was influential throughout Nonconformity, as well as within the Church of England. He consequently devoted more time and energy to the exposing of the latter, and the correctness of his assessment of the position is borne out by the strength of the opposition he soon encountered.

The few religious periodicals which favoured Hyper-Calvinism could never have caused the storm which raged round Spurgeon’s ministry in its early years. The newspapers generally, religious and secular, were indeed so far from Hyper-Calvinism that they were not even aware that Spurgeon was opposed by Hyper-Calvinists!

There is no shortage of literary evidence indicating that Spurgeon’s doctrinal position was his chief offence in the eyes of his contemporaries. For example, Silas Henn introduced his book Spurgeon’s Calvinism Examined and Refuted, published in 1858, with these words:

By many, the Calvinistic controversy has been considered as long since settled, and comparatively few in these times, amid such enlightened views of Christianity, dare to proclaim, openly and without disguise, the peculiar tenets of John Calvin. Even in many professedly Calvinistic pulpits, the doctrines are greatly modified, and genuine Calvinism is kept back. But there are some who hold it forth in all its length and breadth, and among these, the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon, the notorious preacher at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens, is the most prominent.

The same criticism is commonly to be found in many of the newspapers of that period. The Bucks Chronicle accused Spurgeon of making Hyper-Calvinism essential for entrance to heaven; The Freeman deplored that he denounced Arminians ‘in almost every sermon’; The Christian News likewise decried his ‘doctrines of the most rampant exclusiveness’ and his opposition to Arminianism; and The Saturday Review was pained, as we have noted earlier, at the profanity of his preaching ‘Particular Redemption in saloons reeking with the perfume of tobacco’. Perhaps The Patriot, a Nonconformist journal, best summarized in the following broadside why they were all so much offended at the young preacher:

All, in turn, come under the lash of the precocious tyro. He alone is a consistent Calvinist; all besides are either rank Arminians, licentious Antinomians, or unfaithful professors of the doctrines of grace. College training does but wean young men’s sympathies from the people; and ‘really ploughmen would make a great deal better preachers’. The doctrine of election is, ‘in our age, scorned and hated’. ‘The time-serving religion of the present day’ is ‘only exhibited in evangelical drawing rooms’. ‘How many pious preachers are there on the Sabbath-day who are very impious preachers during the rest of the week!’ He ‘never hears’ his brother ministers ‘assert the positive satisfaction and substitution of our Lord Jesus Christ’. These fishers of men ‘have been spending all their life fishing with most elegant silk lines and gold and silver hooks, but the fish will not bite for all that; whereas we of the rougher sort’, adds the self-complacent censor, ‘have put the hook into the jaws of hundreds’. Still ‘rougher’, if possible, is Mr Spurgeon’s treatment of theologians not of his own especial school. ‘Arminian perversions’, in particular, are to ‘sink back to their birthplace in the pit’. Their notion of the possibility of a final fall from grace is ‘the wickedest falsehood on earth’.¹¹

These quotations are coloured by the annoyance of the writers but they are all unanimous in two charges: namely that Spurgeon’s doctrine was not that which was characteristic of contemporary Protestantism and secondly that he openly and repeatedly opposed Arminianism. Instead of clearing himself from the guilt of these charges Spurgeon readily accepted them.¹² ‘We need not be ashamed of our pedigree,’ he says, ‘although Calvinists are now considered to be heterodox.’ His estimate of the religious situation was that the church was being tempted ‘with Arminianism by the wholesale’¹³ and that her primary need was not simply more evangelism nor even more holiness (in the first place) but a return to the full truth of the doctrines of grace – which, for convenience, he was prepared to name as Calvinism. It is clear that Spurgeon did not view himself simply as an evangelist but also as a reformer whose duty it was ‘to give more prominence in the religious world to those old doctrines of the gospel’¹⁴ . . . ‘The old truth that Calvin preached, that Augustine preached, that Paul preached, is the truth that I must preach today, or else be false to my conscience and my God. I cannot shape the truth; I know of no such thing as paring off the rough edges  of a doctrine. John Knox’s gospel is my gospel. That which thundered through Scotland must thunder through England again.’¹⁵ These words take us back to the heart of his New Park Street ministry; there is a reforming zeal and prophetic fire about the man which, while it awakened some, aroused others to wrath and hostility. Spurgeon spoke as a man convinced that he knew the reason for the church’s ineffectiveness, and though he might have to say it alone, he would not be silent:

There has sprung up in the Church of Christ an idea that there are many things taught in the Bible which are not essential; that we may alter them just a little to suit our convenience: that provided we are right in the fundamentals, the other things are of no concern . . . But this know, that the slightest violation of the divine law will bring judgments upon the Church, and has brought judgments, and is even at this day withholding God’s hand from blessing us . . . The Bible, the whole Bible, and nothing but the Bible is the religion of Christ’s Church. And until we come back to that the Church will have to suffer . . .

Ah, how many have there been who have said, ‘The old puritanic principles are too rough for these times; we’ll alter them, we’ll tone them down a little.’ What are you at, Sir? Who art thou that darest to touch a single letter of God’s Book which God has hedged about with thunder, in that tremendous sentence, wherein He has written, ‘Whosoever shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book; and whosoever shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city.’ It becomes an awful thing when we come to think about it, for men not to form a right and proper judgment about God’s Word; for man to leave a single point in it uncanvassed, a single mandate unstudied, lest we shall lead others astray, while we ourselves are acting in disobedience to God . . .

Our victories of the Church have not been like the victories of the olden times. Why is this? My theory to account for it is this. In the first place, the absence of the Holy Spirit in a great measure from us. But if you come to the root of it to know the reason, my fuller other answer is this: the Church has forsaken her original purity, and therefore, she has lost her power. If once we had done with everything erroneous, if by the unanimous will of the entire body of Christ, every evil ceremony, every ceremony not ordained of Scripture were lopped off and done with; if every doctrine were rejected which is not sustained by Holy Writ; if the Church were pure and clean, her path would be onward, triumphant, victorious . . .

This may seem to you to be of little consequence, but it really is a matter of life and death. I would plead with every Christian – think it over, my dear brother. When some of us preach Calvinism, and some Arminianism, we cannot both be right; it is of no use trying to think we can be – ‘Yes’, and ‘no’, cannot both be true . . . Truth does not vacillate like the pendulum which shakes backwards and forwards. It is not like the comet, which is here, there, and everywhere. One must be right; the other wrong.¹⁶

This reforming element in Spurgeon’s early ministry can only be rightly interpreted if we understand his convictions on the theological drift of his age. He believed that God had called him to stand for a reviving of the old Calvinistic evangelicalism once predominant in England and it was because this conviction was so intertwined with the course of his ministry during his first years in London that he has a chapter in his autobiography, at this point, entitled A Defence of Calvinism.¹⁷ An interesting letter of Spurgeon’s which has only recently come to light bears out the same point. The letter is to Charles Spiller, a Baptist minister in Chipping Campden, and while Spurgeon mentions the attack he has suffered from the Hyper-Calvinistic quarter in The Earthen Vessel, it is plain that his main attention is turned in quite a different direction. He rejoices that, through the platform of Exeter Hall, God has given him an opportunity to disturb the general religious malaise which he believed to be connected with an absence of the old orthodoxy.

75 Dover-road,
Boro.
13th February, 1855.

My Dear Brother,

Amid the labour of an enormous correspondence I yet find a moment to acknowledge your note. I bless God that I have sounded an alarm in Zion for I find the sound has gone forth. You may conceive my position, a young man under 21 preaching on that occasion to all the ministers ofLondon (nearly), but I thank God I never yet feared man and although last Sabbath more than 4,000 were assembled in Exeter Hall, though every inch was occupied and they clinging to pillars and everywhere, yet I feel unawed by it, for the God within makes even the Babe mighty. My position, as Pastor of one of the most influential churches, enables me to make myself heard and my daily labour is to revive the old doctrines of Gill, Owen, Calvin, Augustine and Christ. My sermons are printed weekly, I enclose one – the sale is great – and you can procure them at your bookseller by order. They are also printed in the Penny Pulpits.

If you have ever seen The Earthen Vessel you will see how I have been attacked, and set down as a deceiver – the consequence has been that more interest was excited, all the Earthen Vessels were sold –- hundreds of rejoinders were sent to the Editor – while I have quietly looked on, and rejoiced that all things work together for good. I think you will be amused if you read that magazine for December, January and February. I am not very easily put down, I go right on and care for no man on God’s earth. You may well pray that I may be kept near to God, for with knocks up, and kicks down – if I did not lean on His arm I were of all men most miserable. It is no easy matter to be belaboured, both by high and low, and stand still firm. I bless God my church increases at a hopeful rate, 20 to hear tonight before the church, and more to come. All honour to God – for His name I can bear reproach – but the truth I must proclaim. Your note is like a flower in winter – it has the bloom of the summer on it, oh, to have Christ in the Heart, the Holy Ghost in the soul and glory in prospect – for this we might well barter worlds, and for this let us strive not only in words in the pulpit but in verity and truth in our closets alone with our Father.

I am,
Yours fraternally,
C. H. Spurgeon.¹⁸

That it was his emphasis on reviving the old doctrine which aroused intense opposition to his ministry, Spurgeon had not the slightest doubt: ‘We are cried down as hypers; we are reckoned the scum of creation; scarcely a minister looks on us or speaks favourably of us, because we hold strong views upon the divine sovereignty of God, and his divine electings and special love towards his own people.’¹⁹ Preaching to his own congregation in 1860 he said:

There has been no single church of God existing in England for these fifty years which has had to pass through more trial than we have done . . . scarce a day rolls over my head in which the most villainous abuse, the most fearful slander is not uttered against me both privately and by the public press; every engine is employed to put down God’s minister – every lie that man can invent is hurled at me . . . They have not checked our usefulness as a church; they have not thinned our congregations; that which was to be but a spasm – an enthusiasm which it was hoped would only last an hour – God has daily increased; not because of me, but because of that gospel which I preach; not because there was anything in me, but because I came out as the exponent of plain, straight-forward, honest Calvinism, and because I seek to speak the Word simply.²⁰

Spurgeon was not surprised at the enmity that was manifested towards his proclamation of the doctrines of grace: ‘Brethren, in all our hearts there is this natural enmity to God and to the sovereignty of His grace.’²¹ ‘I have known men bite their lip and grind their teeth in rage when I have been preaching the sovereignty of God . . . The doctrinaires of today will allow a God, but he must not be a King: that is to say, they choose a god who is no god, and rather the servant than the ruler of men.’²²

The fact that conversion and salvation are of God, is an humbling truth. It is because of its humbling character that men do not like it. To be told that God must save me if I am saved, and that I am in his hand, as clay is in the hands of the potter, ‘I do not like it’, saith one. Well, I thought you would not; whoever dreamed you would?²³

On the other hand Spurgeon regarded Arminianism as popular because it served to approximate the gospel more to the thinking of the natural man; it brought the doctrine of the Scripture nearer to the mind of the world. The common view of Christianity was accepted by men simply because it was not the teaching of Christ: ‘Had the religion of Christ taught us that man was a noble being, only a little fallen – had the religion of Christ taught that Christ had taken away by His blood, sin from every man, and that every man by his own free-will, without divine grace, might be saved – it were indeed a most acceptable religion to the mass of men.’²⁴ The sting in Spurgeon’s comment was occasioned by the fact that this was precisely what a superficial Protestantism was preaching as the Christian Faith! So in attacking the worldly notions of Christianity which were current, Spurgeon could not help also undermining what so many within the church were actually preaching. No wonder there was a great uproar! But Spurgeon did not flinch, for he believed the old truths were powerful enough to turn his age upside down.

Featured Image:

Jacques-Laurent Agasse, 1767–1849, Swiss, active in Britain (from 1800), Old Smithfield Market, 1824, Oil on canvas, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection, B2001.2.252. Public Domain.

The post The Lost Controversy: Spurgeon and the Sovereignty of God appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying,
Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted,
My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?—Mark
15:34.

It was the darkest, yet the brightest, day the world ever saw!

Never was such a deed of darkness as the crucifixion of the Lord of glory—never was such a sufferer as the Son of God when he hung upon the accursed tree. Never such dismal hours as when there was darkness, not only over all the land, but darkness in the soul of the Father’s well-beloved, when a veil was drawn between, and the light of Heaven’s love was all eclipsed. Who can realise the depth of suffering, and the agony of desertion, that drew forth the cry, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ It was the darkest day the world ever saw!

But how the brightest?

Ah, the brightest! because there shone forth, in fullest manifestation, the love of God to a lost and ruined world.

It was dark to Jesus that it might be bright to us. The Father forsook him that we might not be forsaken to all eternity. From the shame of Jesus we get our glory; from his sufferings we get salvation; from his wounds we get our healing; from the wrath on him we get our peace; by his death we live!

If in the scene of the crucifixion this be the darkest part in the dark picture, then from it there may shine to us the brightest light. In that Father’s frown we may see a smile, in the forsaken one believers may see themselves brought nigh; and as they hear from their Saviour’s lips the awful words, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ they may also hear a God of love declaring to every ransomed one, to every soul that believes in Jesus, ‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee, to all eternity’ (Heb. 13:5). In viewing this strange and solemn scene, the abandonment or desertion of Jesus, I note—

I. The nature of it.

And here we require to bear in mind the mystery of the person of the sufferer.

He who hangs on the cross, and exclaims, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ is the Son of God and the Son of man! Mysterious union this of natures, the divine and human in one person; ‘Great is the mystery of godliness, God manifest in the flesh’ (1 Tim. 3:16), the Son of God assuming human nature, and in that nature obeying, suffering, and dying on the cross. The world sees in him, and his murderers see in him, only a despised Nazarene. But, ah! within that man there is a holy human soul, and beneath the garb of humanity is the Son of God—‘We beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth’ (John 1:14).

And although it was only in his humanity that he could suffer, for the divinity cannot suffer—he only that hath immortality cannot die—yet between these two natures there is a marvellous and indescribable union, so that when it is asked, Who is this on Calvary? the answer is, It is the Son of God, it is the Son of man, it is our divine Redeemer, who yet, as you see, is bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh!

Now when Jesus cried upon the cross, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ he meant not that anything was affecting the union between the divine and human natures. Such a union having been formed, the eternal Son having taken our nature into personal union with himself, nothing can dissolve, nothing can disturb, this union; and it was as the God-man Redeemer that he cried, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’

Neither are we to suppose that when Jesus uttered this mournful cry, the love of the Father towards him had ceased or abated in the slightest degree. The Father loves the Son, and he cannot cease to love him. His love is eternal as himself, unchangeable as his own divine nature; and had it been possible for the love of the Father to the Son to have increased, I believe it would have been when ‘he took the form of a servant’ (Phil. 2:7), when he stooped so low as to become a man, and ‘became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross’ (Phil. 2:8). Yea, Jesus himself tells us, ‘Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it again’ (John 10:17).

Neither are we to imagine that when this cry was uttered, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ there was a withdrawal of the support which the Divinity had ever given to the suffering Saviour. God had said, Go, my Son, and I will hold thy hand; and even when Jesus was forsaken on the cross, God could say, ‘Behold my servant whom I uphold’ (Isa. 42:1), with respect to the actual support which was given even then, and without which there never had been a suffering and victorious Saviour.

What, then, was this awful desertion?

There is in it a depth of gloom and horror which it is difficult, aye, impossible, for the human mind to fathom and fully comprehend. God withdraws from Jesus the light of his countenance, the comfortable sense of his love and his complacency in him. He makes him to feel the whole weight of wrath lying upon him as the sinner’s substitute and surety; and whereas the weight of this wrath is only completely felt when God’s absence is felt—when one is made to know the horror of being alone—in God’s universe without God— when the light of heaven is altogether eclipsed, and when one stands as forgotten, cast off, forsaken, Jesus is made to feel it thus, and so to utter the doleful cry, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me!’

He was never left thus alone before. Forsaken by all others, we never saw him forsaken by his Father; but now he is emphatically the forsaken one, hanging between earth and heaven, as if owned by neither—‘Cast out from earth as a curse, and not yet received to blessing in heaven.’ Heaven and earth and hell all against him! Once we hear him crying, ‘Now is my soul troubled, and what shall I say?’ (John 12:27), but from heaven there comes a voice to comfort him; and though all around is dark, when he looks up, there is light in heaven and love in the Father’s eye. We hear him in Gethsemane pouring forth strong cries and tears, and agonising as the bloody sweat falls on the ground, and the prayer ascends, ‘Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me’ (Matt. 26:39), but there is an open ear in heaven to hear that prayer, and a swift messenger wings his way to comfort and strengthen the suffering one. But at the dark hour when he hung on the cross there was no voice from heaven, no messenger—aye, no light, darkness over all the earth, and deeper darkness in the Messiah’s soul.

Behold on the cross the forsaken one!

II. The reason of the abandonment or desertion of Jesus.

Why is it so? Why has the God of love forsaken his beloved Son? How many an adopted child of God has died in peace, enjoying on his deathbed the light and love of Heaven, and singing on earth the song of the New Jerusalem! How many a martyr has expired triumphantly amid the flames, and rejoiced in the presence and support of the God he loved! It was with them the season of sweetest, richest consolation. Underneath and around they felt the everlasting arms, and they saw with faith’s clear eye the face of God, and had poured into their souls celestial light; and why—oh! why is the well-beloved, the only-begotten, the dearest Son expiring in the thickest darkness, feeling nought but the Father’s frown?

In the explanation of the mystery we have the gospel of the grace of God. In the suffering Jesus we see the sinner’s substitute and surety. Out of love to souls God delivered him up to the death of the cross, and he suffered our punishment while he ‘bore our sins in his own body on the tree’ (1 Pet. 2:24). We have forsaken God; we have left our Father’s home, like the poor, wandering prodigal; and the fruit of the sinner’s sin in forsaking God is that God forsakes him. Thus by sin we are cut off from God—from his favour, from his love, from his blessing, from all communion with him. And if you ask for the darkest picture of a forsaken sinner, of one reaping the bitter fruits of departure from his God, I point to the place of woe where there is ‘wailing and gnashing of teeth’ (Matt. 13:50). On the lost in hell lies the wrath of God, and who can tell the horror of falling thus into the hands of an angry God? But with this felt wrath and curse, there is the awful sense of God’s eternal absence.

Ah! they are banished ones; they have heard the sentence, ‘Depart from me, ye cursed!’ (Matt. 25:41). Nevermore shall ye see my face, never feel my favour, never know my smile, but down, deep down in the dark prison-house shall be your eternal home! Thou hast forsaken me! is the eternal shriek of a lost soul. Thou hast forsaken me, I am left alone! I am undone, for ever undone; for thou art absent, save in thine awful presence as a God of wrath and a God of terror, looking on me with thine eternal frown!

Jesus is the banished one in your room and stead, O believing sinner! When he was forsaken on the cross, this was part of his suffering for you. He must taste the bitterest ingredient in the cup of wrath. He must drink of that cup to the very dregs; and as we deserved to be cast off, abandoned, forsaken to all eternity, see on the cross the banished one, the Son of God in darkness, gloom, and woe. Behold on the cross the forsaken one!

III. The suffering in the abandonment or desertion of Jesus.

Intense must have been the agony of soul when Jesus uttered such a cry. Why is it so? was a question never asked before by him. ‘He was led as a lamb to the slaughter; and as a sheep before his shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth’ (Isa. 53:7). All the cruelties of his enemies, all the unkindness of his friends, drew forth no sorrow, no complaint at all equal in intensity to this. Here is the bitterest portion of the cup of wrath, here is the sharpest wound of the sword of justice. And he who opened not his month like a lamb, now roars like a lion, as that word means which we have in Psalm 22, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?’

To realise at all the intensity of the suffering of Jesus at this awful hour, you have to bear in mind that this is but the consummation of the sufferings of his life. He was ‘a man of sorrows’ (Isa. 53:3) all his days—‘Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head’ (Luke 9:58). One disciple has denied him; another has betrayed him; and when he was led away to the high priest’s house, they all forsook him and fled. His enemies have been treating him as the vilest malefactor; and amid shame and mocking and cruel violence, they have hurried him away to Golgotha. There is one shout which comes from a united rabble—‘Away with him, away with him! crucify him, crucify him!’ (Luke 23:18, 21). He is weary and worn with suffering. It has told on his very countenance, which is ‘more marred than that of any man’ (Isa. 52:14); and when little more than thirty, men take him for fifty; and at last, when stretched on the cross, and looking at his emaciated frame, he exclaims, ‘I can tell’ (I can count) ‘all my bones!’ (Psa. 22:17).

See him now on the cross. That cry, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ was uttered when he seemed given over to the malice of his cruel foes. For a time, the chains that bind and restrain the spirits of darkness are loosened, and they rage and riot around that cross. See their cruel and malicious enmity as cherished in the breasts and exhibited in the words and deeds of the savage murderers. No taunts are spared, no act of cruelty is wanting; it seems to be their aim to sport with the agonising Saviour. Do you not think you see them dividing his garments when they have nailed him to the cross, and sitting down to watch him there? But they cannot rest: it is too mild a death to allow him to expire without an addition of suffering inflicted by the hands that have nailed him to the tree. They pass and repass, and mock and revile and blaspheme, ‘wagging their heads, and saying, If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross: he saved others, himself he cannot save’ (Matt. 27:35, 36, 39, 40, and Mark 15:29-32).

And then, who can tell how fierce that conflict was, unseen by man, with the powers of darkness! The prince of this world comes to meet the Prince of Peace; Golgotha is the battlefield, and on the cross is the end of the awful conflict. But who can tell how fierce it was, when with the powers of darkness it was the last struggle to defeat the purposes of God, and ruin the souls of men!

At this awful hour, when deserted by friends, and insulted and wounded by enemies, and wrestling with the prince of darkness for a world of sinners—at this awful hour the Father leaves him, hides the light of his countenance, and lets fall the full and to us inconceivable impression of the wrath due to the sinners for whom he dies. He makes our iniquities to meet on him, and forsakes him!

Can we at all comprehend the agony, the gloom, of these three awful hours? Wrapt in darkness deeper far than that which covered the earth (for that was but the symbol and the image of the internal darkening of the sufferer’s soul), he agonises under the hiding of his Father’s countenance; his holy soul is filled with woe; and under the pressure of the suffering, which our words fail to describe, and our minds scarce can comprehend, he cries, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’

Behold on the cross the forsaken one!

IV. The fruit of the abandonment or desertion of Jesus.

I have said that the crucifixion day was the darkest, yet the brightest, the world ever saw.

It is now, it will be to all eternity, the darkest day to some, the brightest day to others. To the lost in hell it stands out in awful horror as the darkest day in the world’s history. To the saved in heaven it stands forth in lofty grandeur as the brightest day. The cross has a dark and a bright side. From it comes terror. From it comes consolation. By the same awful scenes it proclaims wrath and peace; and in them we read of damnation and salvation, of hell and heaven.

Look at the dark side first. In that forsaken one, in the abandonment of Jesus, you see a picture of hell. You see your merited curse. You see God’s righteous wrath and holy indignation against sin. You see that the time is coming when all the impenitent and unbelieving shall be eternally cast away, forgotten, forsaken, lost. When you see in the cross of Christ and in the agonies of the forsaken Jesus a picture of sin’s deserts, you learn that God is in earnest when he tells you what must be the bitter fruit and the eternal wages of sin. It is no mere threat. It is no empty declaration of vengeance that will never be realised. ‘If they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?’ (Luke 23:31). In the abandonment of Jesus we hear the sentence ringing, ‘Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels!’ (Matt. 25:41). And if any of us are lost, verily the fruit of Christ’s abandonment will be the aggravation of our misery, the increase of our doom; and the bitterest ingredient in the cup of wrath will be the never-ceasing thought that hell might have been escaped, that we had the offer made us of the merits of the sufferings of Jesus the forsaken one. ‘How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?’ (Heb. 2:3).

Look now at the bright side of the cross.

What mercy and love and grace are to be seen in the face of Jesus Christ as he hangs on Calvary as the forsaken one! What hope for you, O anxious, trembling, yet believing souls! Jesus is forsaken that you may be received as returning prodigals to the Father’s bosom and the Father’s love, and never be forsaken to all eternity. Ye may come and lay your sins by faith on the head of the forsaken one. Ye may look on him as standing in your room and stead when the pains of hell gat hold upon him, and the Father’s face was hid. What a mystery is here! What a dark, deep, gloomy gulf this seems—the desertion of Jesus on the cross—but come and bring all your sins and sorrows and fears and distresses, and bury them in this unfathomable gulf, and take peace and consolation in the thought that Jesus was the forsaken one for you, that the Father’s answer to the Saviour’s piercing cry, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me,’ is his word of peace to the believing soul, ‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee’ (Heb. 13:5).

Is it not strange, the darkest hour
That ever dawned on sinful earth,
Should touch the heart with softer power
For comfort than an angel’s mirth!

The post The Darkest, Yet Brightest Day – Robert H. Ireland appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

WHEN Christian and Hopeful left the Delectable Mountains to pursue their way towards the Celestial City the shepherds bade them ‘Beware of the Flatterer.’ They learned afterwards, by sad experience, the folly of neglecting this advice, for thus the story runs:—

They went then till they came at a place where they saw a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go: and here they knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed straight before them; therefore, here they stood still to consider. And as they were thinking about the way, behold, a man, black of flesh, but covered with a very light robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there. They answered, they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these ways to take.

‘Follow me,’ said the man, ‘it is thither that I am going.’

So they followed him in the way that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned, and turned them so from the city that they desired to go to, that, in little time, their faces were turned away from it; yet they followed him. But by-and-by, before they were aware, he led them both within the compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled, that they knew not what to do; and with that the white robe fell off the black man’s back. Then they saw where they were. Wherefore they lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves out.

Then said Christian to his fellow, ‘Now do I see myself in an error. Did not the shepherds bid us beware of the Flatterer? As in the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day, “A man that flattereth his neighbour spreadeth a net for his feet”’ (Prov. 29:5).

Hope. ‘They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser than we; for, saith he, concerning the works of men, “By the word of thy lips I have kept me from the paths of the destroyer”’ (Psa. 17:4). Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net.

This is not a picture of a temptation to turn aside altogether from the good way. The path of the destroyer appeared to run parallel to that in which they ought to have kept. Nor did they go blundering on, but consulting with one another. Therein they were mistaken, for they should have consulted their Book of instructions. Then they were misled by a gentleman of pleasing appearance, who looked like a servant of the King of kings, and who spoke softly to them, assuring them that, as he himself was bound for the Celestial City, he could lead them thither. His winning accents caused them to yield themselves to his guidance; and, by-and-by, their faces were turned directly away from the city towards which aforetime they had been pressing. You see, it is not a case of the deliberate choice of sin; but rather of being deluded through neglect of the word of God, which is the true guide of the pilgrim.

There are flatterers of this kind in our own hearts. It has often happened, in our experience, that we have been living in simple dependence upon the Lord Jesus  Christ, which is the straight and narrow way which leadeth unto life eternal, and, by-and-by, we have, perhaps, read the experience of some great man, and we think, ‘Well, it must be right to feel as he felt, to doubt as he doubted, to be tempest-tossed as he was.’ There is another road, and we begin to think that it is well to live by feeling. The flatterer does not tell us, in so many words, to give up faith in Christ alone. We should recognize him, and be shocked if he did that: but he insinuates that we may walk a little by our holy feelings. We are not now such infants as we used to be; we have grown in grace somewhat; we may now rely a little upon the past; there is not the same need to be daily hanging upon Christ; why not rest on what was enjoyed at conversion, and make up, if necessary, with some present frames and feelings, present power in prayer, or present usefulness in the Lord’s work?

Mr Flatterer knows well that, when we are most sanctified, there is enough cause to weep over every day in our life. He knows that those who most resemble Jesus are very, very far from being quite like him. There is much more cause to deplore our sinnership, than to admire our saintship. As we have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so must we walk in him. Still we rely upon his merits alone. If you begin to walk by yourself even a little way, you will soon find that path leading you, insensibly, into such legality that you try, if not actually to save yourself, yet to keep yourself saved through the works of the law. In a very little time, the believer who does this will fall into the net. He will find the pangs of hell, as it were, get hold upon him; he will find trouble and sorrow. When a bird is caught in a net, it attempts to get out this way and that way. It may break its wings, but it cannot escape; it rather entangles itself more completely. So the soul, that has forsaken simple faith, to live upon its own works, and feelings, and experiences, will try in vain to get relief. It is in legal bondage. The Ten Commandments suffice to make a heavy net when they twist around the sinner who has broken them. Apart from the blood of Jesus Christ, who can hope to escape from an awakened conscience? Thus is the Christian caught in a net when the Flatterer, who lives in his soul, tempts him to self-righteousness and to forsake the Lord. Luther used to say, ‘You need fear a black devil half so much as a white one.’ The white devil of self-righteousness is more dangerous to the Christian than even the black devil of open sin. When open sin tempts us, we know it to be sin, and we are helped to forsake it. But oftentimes, the white devil seems to be an angel of light; and, under the garb of striving after sanctification, or aiming at perfection, we are tempted to leave our child-like confidence in the Lord. This way lies the net!

There are so many other nets that I should not care to have to count them. You young converts may meet with a person who will say to you, ‘I hear you are converted; I am glad of that, but where do you attend?’ ‘Oh, So-and-so!’ ‘Ah! you should not go there; it is very well for some things, but there are higher truths that you will never learn there; you should come with us, and hear how we can explain the prophecies to you’; and so, under the guise of desiring you to listen to prophetic truth, they will lead you into some new form of error.

Others will seek to win you to admire with them the splendours of outward forms and ceremonies. How many unwary ones have been thus allured to Ritualism and Romanism! Certain others will say, ‘Oh, you should not have a minister!’ They cry down the Lord’s shepherds who are found on the Delectable Mountains, and urge you to go where everybody teaches everybody. They are the people of God; they are not a sect, though ten thousand times more bigoted than any sect that ever existed. Beware, I pray you, of any form of doctrine or practice which would lead you from the place where you were born to God, where you have been nurtured in Christ, where you have been made useful, and helped forward in the divine life. There are certain sects that only live by stealing members from other churches, whereas the aim of a Christian church should be to win souls direct from the world. These flatterers, for they are generally such, will tell you that you are too experienced to sit under the ordinary ministry; you are much too useful, or too spiritual, to remain in such a congregation. If you hearken unto them, you will soon find  that leanness has come into your soul, and that you are entangled in the net, for you have been drawn away from the truth as it is in Jesus by some creed of man’s devising.

I would warn our young members especially against that form of faith which holds only half the Bible; against those who proclaim the divine election, but ignore human responsibility, and who preach up high doctrine, but have little or nothing to say about Christian practice. I am persuaded that this is another net of the Flatterer, and many have I seen taken in it. They have ceased from all care about the souls of others, have become indifferent as to whether children were perishing or being saved, have settled on their lees, to eat the fat, and drink the sweet, and have come to think that this was all for which they were redeemed. Their compassions have failed; they have had no weeping eyes over perishing sinners; in fact, they have thought it a sign of being unsound to care about saving sinners at all. May God keep you from being flattered into this net, lest you become pierced through with many sorrows! To the Bible only you must look. Test every new idea with this touchstone: ‘To the law and to the testimony.’ Require a ‘Thus saith the Lord’ from every flattering notion. The old Book is our infallible guide.

Now let us read the passage in which Bunyan describes the pilgrims’ release from the net.

At last they espied a Shining One coming towards them, with a whip of small cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they did there.

They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out of their way by a black man, clothed in white, ‘who bid us,’ said they, ‘follow him, for he was going thither too.’ Then said he with the whip, ‘It is Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light’ (Prov. 29:5; Dan. 11:32; 2 Cor. 11:14, 15).

So he rent the net, and let the men out.

Then said he to them, ‘Follow me, that I may set you in your way again.’

So he led them back to the way which they had left to follow the Flatterer.

Then he asked them, saying, ‘Where did you lie last night?’

They said, ‘With the Shepherds, upon the Delectable Mountains.’

He asked them then, if they had not of those Shepherds a note of direction for the way.

They answered, ‘Yes.’ ‘But did you,’ said he, ‘when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note?’

They answered, ‘No.’

He asked them, ‘Why?’

They said they forgot.

He asked, moreover, if the Shepherds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer.

They answered, ‘Yes; but we did not imagine,’ said they, ‘that this finespoken man had been he’ (Rom. 16:18).

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down; which, when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should walk (Deut. 25:2);

and as he chastised them, he said, ‘As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous, therefore, and repent’ (Rev. 3:19; 2 Chron. 6:26, 27).

This done, he bid them go on their way, and take good heed to the other directions of the Shepherds.

So they thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along the right way, singing,—

‘Come hither, you that walk along the way;

See how the pilgrims fare that go astray?

They catched are in an entangling net,

’Cause they good counsel lightly did forget:

’Tis true, they rescued were,

but yet you see

They’re scourged to boot.

Let this your caution be.’

When a Christian gets into the net of self-righteousness, he is sure to be delivered because he belongs to the Lord, who will not suffer him to be destroyed. But the Shining One, who comes to deliver him out of the net, will certainly bring a scourge of small cords with him, and will chasten him, again and again, till he is willing to walk humbly with his God. Alas! how soon we get high looks and a proud bearing! We dream that we need not come crouching at the Cross-foot, as other sinners do. I heard one say that he had not prayed for forgiveness of sin for twelve months; he had had his sins forgiven years ago. But when the Lord gives us a good dose of bitters, and makes us drink of the  waters of Marah, we ask to be washed as Peter did when he changed his mind, and said, ‘Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head.’ Then we feel the need of daily application of the precious blood, and we are willing to stand with the poor publican, and say, ‘God be merciful to me a sinner.’ We must be chastened to keep us low. A good old countryman, now in heaven, said to me, as I was walking with him in the field where he was ploughing, many years ago, ‘Ah, Master Spurgeon! if I get one inch above the ground, I get that inch too high, and have to come down again.’ So shall we. We must cling to the faith that owns that Christ is our All-in-all. If the Flatterer leads us astray, woe will be unto us. So will it be, I believe, with Christian men and women who, having received a blessing in any church, are induced to turn aside from it. ‘As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place.’ Many such have been well chastened, and have had to come back to their old church again, and have rejoiced once more to sit with the Lord’s people with whom they had happy fellowship in days gone by.

The post ‘Beware of the Flatterer’ – <i>Pictures from Pilgrim’s Progress </i> appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

It may seem strange to some persons, that I should give directions for the performance of an act so well understood as the perusal of a book; and especially the perusal of a book of so simple and elementary a kind as this. But the fact is, that multitudes either do not know, or do not remember at the time, how to read to advantage; and, therefore, profit but little by what they read. Besides, simple and elementary as is this treatise, it is on a subject of infinite and eternal importance, and is perused in the most critical season of a man’s everlasting history; when, in a very peculiar sense, every means of grace, and this among the rest, will be either ‘a savour of death unto death, or of life unto life,’ to the reader. Tremendous idea! But strictly true.

Reader, whosoever thou art, it is no presumptuous thought of the author to believe that thou wilt remember the contents of this small treatise, either with pleasure and gratitude in heaven, or with remorse and despair in hell. Can it then be an impertinently officious act to remind thee how to read with advantage what I have written?

1. Take it with you into your closet

I mean your place of retirement for prayer; for, of course, you have such a place. Prayer is the very soul of all religion, and privacy is the very life of prayer itself. This is a book to be read when you are alone; when none is near but God and your conscience; when you are not hindered by the presence of a fellow-creature from the utmost freedom of manner, thought, and feeling; when, unobserved by any human eye, you could lay down the book, and meditate, or weep, or fall upon your knees to pray, or give vent to your feelings in short and sudden petitions to God.

I charge you then to reserve the volume for your private seasons of devotion and thoughtfulness: look not into it in company, except it be the company of a poor trembling and anxious inquirer, like yourself.

2. Read it with deep seriousness

Remember, it speaks to you of God, of eternity, of salvation, of heaven, and of hell. Take it up with something of the awe ‘that warns you how you touch a holy thing.’ It meets you in your solicitude about your soul’s welfare; it meets you fleeing from destruction, escaping for your life, crying out, ‘What shall I do to be saved?’ and proffers its assistance to guide you for refuge to ‘the hope set before you in the gospel.’ It is itself serious; its author is serious; it is on a serious subject; and demands to be read in a most devout and serious mood. Take it not up lightly, nor read it lightly. If your spirit be not as solemn as usual, do not touch it; and when you do touch it, command away every other subject, and endeavour to realize the idea that God, salvation, and eternity are before you; and that you are actually collecting the ingredients of the cup of salvation, or the wormwood and gall to imbitter the cup of damnation.

3. Read it with earnest prayer

It can do you no good, without God’s blessing: nothing short of Divine grace can render it the means of instructing your mind, or impressing your heart. It will convey no experimental knowledge, relieve no anxiety, dissipate no doubts, afford neither peace nor sanctification, if God do not give his Holy Spirit: and if you would have the Spirit, you must ask for his influence. If, therefore, you wish it to benefit you, do not read another page, till you have most fervently, as well as sincerely, prayed to God for his blessing to accompany the perusal. I have earnestly prayed to God to enable me to write it, and if you as earnestly pray to him to enable you to read it, there is thanksgiving in store for us both; for usually what is begun in prayer, ends in praise.

4. Do not read too much at a time

Books that are intended to instruct and impress should be read slowly. Most persons read too much at a time. Your object is not merely to read this treatise through, but to read it so as to profit by it. Food cannot be digested well, if too much be eaten at a time; so neither can knowledge.

5. Meditate on what you read

Meditation bears the same office in the mental constitution as digestion does in our corporeal system. The first mental exercise is attention, the next is reflection. If we would gain a correct notion of an object, we must not only see it, but look at it; and so, also, if we would gain knowledge from books, we must not only see the matters treated of, but look steadily at them. Nothing but meditation can enable us to understand or feel. In reading the Scriptures and religious books, we are, or should be, reading for eternity. Salvation depends on knowledge, and knowledge on meditation. At almost every step of our progress through a book which is intended to guide us to salvation, we should pause and ask, ‘Do I understand this?’ Our profiting depends not on the quantity we read, but the quantity we understand. One verse in Scripture, if understood and meditated upon, will do us more good than a chapter, or even a book, read through in haste, and without reflection.

6. Read regularly through in order

Do not wander about from one part to another, and in your eagerness to gain relief, pick and cull particular portions, on account of their supposed suitableness to your case. It is all suitable; and will be found most so by being taken together and as a whole. A rambling method of reading, whether it be the Scriptures or other books, is not to edification: it often arises from levity of mind, and sometimes from impatience; both of which are states very unfriendly to improvement. Remember it is salvation you are in quest of; an object of such transcendent importance, as to be a check upon volatility; and of such value, as to encourage the most exemplary patience.

7. Read calmly

You are anxious to obtain eternal life: you are eagerly asking, ‘What shall I do to be saved?’ But still, you must not allow your solicitude so far to agitate your mind, as to prevent you from listening calmly and coolly for the answer. In circumstances of great anxiety, men are sometimes so much under the power of excited feelings, that the judgment is bewildered, and thus they are not only prevented from finding out what is best to be done, but from seeing it when it is laid down by another.

This anxious and hurried state of mind is very common in those who are just awakened to a concern about salvation; they are restless and eager to gain relief, but are defeated in their object by their very solicitude to obtain it. The Scriptures are read, sermons are heard, advice of friends is received, in a confused state of mind. Now you must guard against this, and endeavour so far to control your thoughts, and calm your perturbation, as to attend to the counsels and cautions which are here suggested.

8. I very earnestly recommend the perusal of all those passages of Scripture and chapters which I have quoted, and which, for the sake of brevity, I have only referred to, without quoting the words.

I lay great stress upon this. Read this book with the Bible at your elbow, and do not think much of the trouble of turning to the passages quoted. If, unhappily, you should consider me, or my little volume, as a substitute for the Bible, instead of a guide to it, I shall have done you an injury, or rather you will have done yourself an injury by thus employing it. ‘As new-born babes,’ says the apostle, ‘desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby’ (1 Pet. 2:2). And as those infants thrive best who are fed from the breast of their mother, so those converts grow most in grace, who are most devoted to a spiritual perusal of the Scriptures. If, therefore, I stand between you and the word of God, I do you great disservice; but if I should persuade you to read the Scriptures, I shall greatly help you in your religious course. Perhaps, in the present state of your mind, it is not desirable to begin and read regularly the word of God, but to go through those passages which I have selected and recommended.

And now may God, of his great goodness and sovereign grace, deign to bless the perusal of this book to many immortal souls, by making it, however humble the production, the means of conducting them into the path of life!

Featured Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

*An earlier version of this post wrongly attributed this excerpt to Angell James’s Pastoral Addresses (1840).

The post How to Read a Soul-Improving Book appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

J. Gresham Machen once wrote: ‘If we are going to avoid controversy, we might as well close our Bibles; for the New Testament is a controversial book practically from beginning to the end.’ Then he made this prediction about the future:

I do not know all the things that will happen when the great revival sweeps over the Church, the great revival for which we long. Certainly I do not know when that revival will come; its coming stands in the Spirit’s power. But about one thing that will happen when that blessing comes I think we can be fairly sure. When a great and true revival comes in the Church, the present miserable, feeble talk about avoidance of controversy on the part of the servants of Jesus Christ will all be swept away as with a mighty flood.¹

You understand that in speaking of revival, Machen was not speaking simply of a time of blessing or excitement in a local church; he was referring to the kind of awakening in the churches and in society which turns attention to God, brings conviction of sin, humbles people, and even changes the course of history. But is his prediction, that such an event will be accompanied by controversy, justified? I believe that it is. Church history shows that all the great turning points in history have been times of controversy and there is good reason why that is the case. It is because every great advance of the kingdom of God takes place in conjunction with the recovery of biblical truth, and when the truth is known in its power opposition will not be absent. Thus when the book of Acts tells us, ‘The word of God grew and multiplied’, we go on to read that the Christians were seen as a ‘sect’ and ‘everywhere spoken against’ (Acts 28: 22). Before we speak of the benefits of controversy, I note three examples of controversies that marked turning points in history.

1. The great Reformation of the sixteenth century. There are those today who think that the Reformation, and the division that gave rise to the Protestant churches, were things that might have been avoided. There ought, it is said, to have been more tolerance and less passion on both sides. The differences, they believe, were more over words than over fundamental issues. Such spokesmen concede that some Reformation of the church was necessary, but suggest that it might have been carried on peacefully had there been better mutual understanding. This argument overlooks something: there were people who thought in just that kind of way at the time of the Reformation. Erasmus, the Renaissance Dutch scholar, is their best representative. Erasmus believed in the need for the Bible to be translated and known; and he supported the reform of abuses in the church. At the same time he thought that all this might be achieved peacefully by a cautious policy of education. So he complained that Martin Luther was a threat to the peace and unity of the church; the German reformer was too dogmatic—he treated opinions, and ‘doubtful and unnecessary’ beliefs, as though they were certainties. Erasmus blamed Luther for his ‘delight in assertions’.

It was to this thinking of Erasmus that Luther replied in The Bondage of the Will, a book which showed that Erasmus was not a real believer in the doctrines of the Bible at all. The Dutchman’s thinking, Luther wrote, meant regarding ‘Christian doctrines as nothing better than the opinions of philosophers and men: and that it is the greatest folly to quarrel about, contend for, and assert them, as nothing can arise therefrom but contention and the disturbance of the public peace.’²

He replied to Erasmus:

Allow us to be assertors, and to study and delight in assertions: and do you favour your Sceptics and Academics until Christ shall have called you also. The Holy Spirit is not a Sceptic, nor are what he has written in our hearts doubts or opinions, but assertions more certain, and more firm, than life itself. ³

Erasmus, Luther says, made keeping peace of ‘greater consideration than salvation, than the word of God, than the glory of Christ’, and the cause of his mistake was that his viewpoint was fundamentally different from that of the Reformers. He saw the controversy over the Reformation as a difference between men. For Luther it was much more than that: it was a movement of the Spirit of God. Men were called to take part but God was the true agent. In the words of John Knox, ‘God gave his Holy Spirit to simple men in great abundance.’ In essence, the Reformation was a revival. God sent forth light and truth, and the hostility that erupted was exactly what Scripture warns us to expect. The uproar in the sixteenth century did not come about because of ‘opinions’; it came from enmity to the Bible and to God. ‘The carnal mind is enmity against God; for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be’ (Rom. 8:7).

2. The Evangelical Revival of the eighteenth century, or as it became known in the American colonies, ‘The Great Awakening’. This also was attended by controversy, not now between Protestants and Roman Catholics but between Protestants themselves. Yet the issue was very similar to the main issue at the Reformation. The devil’s constant strategy is to seek to merge the church and the world so that the people of God lose their distinctiveness and be no longer as ‘a city set upon a hill’. The primary way for Satan to achieve this is to confuse what it means to be a Christian. He uses false prophets to make entrance into the kingdom of God broad and not narrow, and so becoming a Christian is just a matter of belonging to the institutional church. ‘Be baptized, profess Christianity, attend church’, and that is all. This was largely the position on both sides of the Atlantic in the eighteenth century, as it had been two centuries earlier. When Whitefield and Wesley began to preach the necessity of being born again people heard it as though it was a new religion. Typical was the testimony of Thomas Webb, a parish clerk in England, who had listened to many sermons in his lifetime, and yet confessed, ‘The new birth, justification by faith only, the want of free will in man to do good works without the special grace to God, was as it were, a new language to me.’⁴ Archibald Alexander, who was brought up among Presbyterians in the Shenandoah Valley, says the same thing. The day came in his life when, away from home, a Baptist millwright asked him

Whether I had experience the new birth. I hesitated and said, ‘Not that I know of.’ ‘Ah’, said he, ‘if you had ever experienced this change you would know something about it!’ Here the conversation ended; but it led me to think more seriously whether there were any such change. It seemed to be in the Bible; but I thought there must be some method of explaining it away; for among the Presbyterians I had never heard of anyone who had experienced the new birth, nor could I recollect ever to have heard it mentioned.’⁵

The fundamental controversy in the eighteenth-century revival was about the nature of vital, life-changing Christianity. The evangelicals appealed to the testimony of the New Testament on such truths as the power of the Holy Spirit in conviction of sin, and his work in giving assurance of salvation, and they were told such things were no longer necessary in ‘Christian’ countries. It was ‘fanaticism’ and highly offensive to preach to churchgoers as though they might not be Christians. Take one particular instance of this controversy. Jonathan Edwards, leader in the Awakening in colonial America, was dismissed from the church at Northampton which he had served for twenty-three years. The cause of his dismissal was that he had come to see the wrongness of allowing churchgoers to come to the Lord’s Table although they could give no testimony to their personal faith in Christ. When he sought to persuade his people that the Lord’s Table, and the purity of the church, needed to be guarded, there was such an outcry against him that it terminated his ministry.

3. The Modern Controversy over Scripture. In the last century practically all the historic denominations of the English-speaking nations, from America to New Zealand, fell into serious decline. Whole communities where light once burned brightly were left in darkness. This happened because the leadership in these churches took the wrong side in controversy over whether the whole Bible is God-given revelation which is to be obeyed in all it says. Now although this controversy continues to be contemporary, we are all aware that it did not begin yesterday. It came out into the light in the 1880s, and it was at its height until about the 1920s, when tragically the mainline churches in our countries gave in to the teaching that the Bible contains both truth and error. The majority argued that this change of belief was simply the inevitable result of a better understanding of the nature of the Bible. No one should be disturbed about this discovery, they said, because faith does not rest upon a Book but upon the living Christ. The claim was, ‘It is Christ we worship, not a book!’ Such was a common way in which falsehood was presented and it was promised that there was no danger in accepting it. After all, they said, there is a difference between believing the Bible and ‘believing in theories about the Bible’. The historic Christian belief in the inerrancy of all Scripture was only ‘a theory’ produced to explain its composition. Other possible explanations were not to be excluded. In 1888 a prominent English Baptist leader, John Clifford, defended this thinking in a major speech which he entitled ‘The Battle of the Sacred Books’.⁶ ‘Books’ in the plural was central to his thesis. There are other ‘sacred books’; Christianity cannot be exclusive in its claim to have revelation from heaven. The Bible is only ‘superior revelation’, but in saying this, he added, ‘Let me carefully note that we speak of the Bible ITSELF, and not of any human theories concerning its composition.’ Without stating whom he was attacking, Clifford referred to those of orthodox belief as ‘scholastic system-builders, and priest-bitten ecclesiastics’. They are people, he said, who think ‘geography and statistics as equally vital with redemption and ethics’—a veiled way of saying that if matters of fact are wrong in the Bible that should not trouble us. It is, he said, ‘fatal’ to forget ‘that our faith does not rest, in its last support, upon the qualities and forces of the Scriptures, but on God . . . Jesus did not say to His disciples, “Go, preach to everybody, everywhere, and lo, a book is with you; but, lo, I am with you.” Our trust is in a living Leader; not in a book we read.’

Clifford was only repeating an idea already becoming popular and supposedly the result of the progress of scholarship. It was thirty-six years after his speech that a document called the Auburn Affirmation was published in the United States, signed by 150 Presbyterian ministers and then by others until the number grew to about 1,300. This Affirmation claimed that men of liberal belief in their theology had the same right to be in pulpits as traditionalists. They all ‘believed the Bible’, it was just ‘certain theories concerning the inspiration of the Bible’ over which they differed.

But by the 1920s the distinction between the Bible and ‘theories’ was worked out more widely. It was now said that one could believe in the cross of Christ without accepting any ‘theory’ of the atonement. Or one could believe in ‘the resurrection of Christ’ without determining whether it was a bodily resurrection. Bodily resurrection was only a ‘theory’, and the liberals were equally entitled to their theories.⁷

In some great controversies the leaders on the side of truth are not always seen to win in their lifetimes. It was so in this controversy. The two foremost leaders in opposition to liberal theology were C. H. Spurgeon in Britain, and J. Gresham Machen in America. Both men saw the tide go against them. Spurgeon saw a majority failing to support his call for subscription to a definite creed, and Machen was suspended by the Presbyterian Church, after a heroic defence of the faith. Both men died in their mid-fifties. Books by other faithful men have since demonstrated that the position defended by Spurgeon and Machen is the position taken by Scripture itself. Yet these books were largely ignored. What cannot be ignored is the providence of God in bringing spiritual desolation in all the denominations where the unbelief of liberalism was accepted. Once fruitful churches became a wilderness. Disbelief cannot coexist with the sanction of the Holy Spirit.

The benefits of controversy

That great blessings may result from controversies is an evident lesson of history.

1. Controversy leads to closer and clearer definitions of the truth. The great creeds and confessions of the churches have been born out of controversies. Heresies that might have ended Christian testimony have been overruled to establish the truth more brightly.

In the year 1555 error had come in like a flood in England, and those who opposed it were being put to death in numbers. Yet when Hugh Latimer died at the stake, October 16, 1555, he could say to his fellow martyr, ‘Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man. We shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace in England, as I trust shall never be put out.’ His belief that controversy and persecution would be overruled for good was correct. ‘There must be divisions among you’, Paul told the church at Corinth, ‘that those approved may become more manifest’ (1 Cor. 11:19). As Charles Hodge says: ‘It is a great consolation to know that dissensions . . . are not fortuitous, but are ordered by the providence of God, and are designed, as storms, for the purpose of purification.’ Or, in the words of the Puritan, Samuel Bolton: ‘God suffers errors to arise to bring us back to the original word of God, that there we might rectify all. If there had not been such clashing and disputing in former ages, our way had not been clear to us, in many glorious truths.’⁸

Jonathan Edwards’ sufferings at Northampton had the same consequence. They were not in vain. More attention came to be given to the need for a credible evidence of a change of heart in order to permit admittance to the Lord’s Supper, and this led to a very general change in practice of many churches.⁹

Judged in purely numerical terms, the decline of the mainline churches into liberalism a hundred years ago was a tragedy, but it prompted many faithful men and women at home and on the mission fields to take a stronger stand on the inerrancy of Scripture.

2. Controversy has brought divisions that are a blessing to the world. There are times in history when the call of Hebrews 13:13 is again appropriate: ‘Let us go forth therefore unto him without the camp, bearing his reproach.’ First-century Christians were to leave a dead Judaism; they belonged to the Jerusalem ‘which is above,’ outside the Jerusalem which ‘is in bondage with her children’ (Gal. 4:25, 26). The call to separation is sometimes the call of God.

It is true that there have been times when earnest resistance to error in a denomination has been owned of God for its recovery, but there are also times when believers have to find spiritual life outside churches that are dead. There are religious institutions where believers have remained even after all attempts at recovery have proved futile.¹⁰ Those who did not leave the Presbyterian Church with Machen were to find this. Henry Coray, a witness of the 1930s’ controversy, commented on that point fifty years later: ‘One is constrained to look back and ask the question, “How goes the battle?” The answer had to be: the battle is over and the mopping up process is going on. The warriors have sheathed their swords. Where is there in the (now) United Presbyterian Church a single rallying point, a stalwart uncompromising post where the conflict is raging?’¹¹

Certainly, as I will argue, divisions arising out of controversy are not always beneficial, but both the Reformation and the eighteenth-century Awakening demonstrate the great blessings that have come to nations in times of disruption. It is not romanticising history to say that vast benefits, spiritual, moral, and economic, followed the Reformation: society was uplifted, tyrannies put down, and freedom of speech established.

Dangers

1. The danger of Christians not recognising when serious controversy is justified and when it is not. I believe that the three controversies noted above warranted controversy and division. The truths involved were fundamental and worth suffering for. We are commanded to ‘contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints’. But that does not mean we are to contend over every difference that arises. There are fundamental truths, lesser truths and matters which belong more to the sphere of speculation. If the line between these is not correctly drawn then great damage is liable to be done. The understanding of the best of men remains imperfect, and that means that a determination to secure or insist on unanimity in all things, will only multiply disputes and divisions. There are many instances where this has happened in church history, when the kingdom of God has been injured by believers engaging in disputes among themselves on issues not fundamental. This was part of the reason why the Puritan movement in England lost its ascendency. Men like-minded on the gospel fell out over the issue of how the church is to be governed. Now that is not a trivial subject. The Bible speaks on church government. But godly men differ on how parts of the biblical teaching are to be interpreted. The difference between those of Presbyterian and Independent views weakened their whole cause. In the last sermons Puritans preached before they were put out of their churches in 1662, there are pleas for more brotherly love, but by that date much damage had been done.¹²

Or consider what happened among Bible-believing Presbyterians in the United States in the 1930s. Those who rallied round Machen formed a new denomination, but it was to split over such questions as unfulfilled prophecy, and whether the wine drunk at the Lord’s Supper should be alcoholic. Again these points are not incidental, but they were claimed to justify the breaking of fellowship between men who had stood together on fundamental truths.

If good men, as these men were, failed to draw the distinction between first and secondary truths, and between mistakes which are tolerable and errors which are not, it underlines the difficulty that often enters into controversy. One lesson to be drawn is that not all Christians are called to be engaged in controversy. To play a useful part in a controversy means being a teacher of others, and Scripture is clear, not all Christians are called to teach: ‘Let not many of you become teachers, my brethren’ (James 3:1). For a start that rules out women taking any lead in controversies. Others are also ruled out. While all are called to be faithful, not even all teachers are gifted for controversy. Some may be eminent in one sphere but not in this one. It was an old Methodist who once said that the Methodists are good for leading sinners to Christ but no good in controversy. John Duncan, speaking about the early church Fathers, said, ‘The primitive Fathers were very poor divines. I don’t think Polycarp could have stood a theological examination by John Owen; but he was a famous man to burn.’ That is to say, God qualified Polycarp for what he was called to be, a martyr for Christ.¹³ This is not an argument to justify theological pacificism, yet it needs to be said that not all are called to be leaders in controversy. Unhappily it has too often been that men of a contentious spirit have taken this role for themselves.¹⁴

2. The danger of being distracted from what is of first importance. Potential controversies are ever present and it is easy to become participants. The warnings of Scripture are relevant to this phenomenon: we are told not ‘to pay attention to myths and endless genealogies’ that lead to ‘fruitless discussion’ (1 Tim. 1:4, 6). ‘Avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and strife and disputes about the Law, for they are unprofitable and worthless’ (Titus 3:9). The nature of the controversies to which Paul refers is not clear; what is clear is the continuing existence of many debatable subjects which are not fundamental to the work of the gospel ministry. The Puritans used to say, ‘The devil never lets the wind of error blow long in the same direction.’ His purpose is to keep side-tracking Christian leaders from their main work.
Professor John Frame has listed twenty-one controversies which he believes have engaged evangelical Reformed Christians among themselves in the last seventy years.¹⁵ Whatever one thinks of the issues Frame covers, it is surely a sad thing how much time was taken up in these disputes. Ministers of the gospel are called to awaken sinners and to lead them to Christ and glory. The time is short in which to do it. Our strength is small. Unless we are watchful, precious time will go to little purpose and opportunities for greater things be lost forever.

Matthew Henry gave this wise counsel:

Ministers should avoid, as much as may be, what will occasion disputes; and would do well to insist on the great and practical points of religion, about which there can be no disputes; for even disputes about great and necessary truths draw off the mind from the main design of Christianity, and eat out the vitals of religion.¹⁶

In eighteenth-century Scotland a Secession took place from the Established Church of Scotland that incorporated numbers of the best people and preachers in the land. The Secession was an evangelistic and missionary force for good. But the congregations which adhered to it were drawn into repeated controversies among themselves and with others. One of their most eminent ministers, John Brown of Haddington, left this testimony: I look upon the Secession as indeed the cause of God, but sadly mismanaged and dishonoured by myself and others. Alas! for that pride, passion, selfishness, and unconcern for the glory of Christ and spiritual edification of souls, which has so often prevailed. Alas! for our want of due meekness, gentleness. Alas! that we did not chiefly strive to pray better, preach better, and live better, than our neighbours.¹⁷

3. The danger of treating matters of belief as the only priority. Truth is indeed a priority. Error is to be resisted. False teachers are to be exposed. But it is not the only priority. If one asks the question, What should be the chief features of Christian behaviour according to the New Testament, it would be hard to argue that contending for the faith stands alone at the top of the list. Consider how much is said in Scripture on the believer as a peacemaker. ‘Peacemakers’, says our Lord, ‘shall be called the children of God’ (Matt. 5:9). ‘If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men’ (Rom. 12:18). ‘Pursue peace with all men’ (Heb. 12:14). Within the church, the duty is ‘being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace’ (Eph. 4:3). ‘Have peace one with another’, is the command of Christ (Mark 9:50); ‘Be at peace among yourselves’ (1 Thess. 5:13).

Or consider the biblical emphases on brotherly love. ‘A new commandment I give unto you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love one to another’ (John 13:34, 35). But what if a fellow-Christian sins against you? The answer is, ‘forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake has forgiven you’ (Eph. 4:32). What such texts teach us is that the Christian life is more than a matter of knowledge and correct thinking. Spiritual life does not reside only in the intellect. A person can hold the right beliefs and not be a Christian at all. Where there is the new birth there is not only light to the mind, but love in the heart and grace in the spirit. Orthodox belief is not the only mark of true Christianity. When controversies begin between Christians they are tempted to forget this and attention may begin to turn solely on the points of difference. This was one of the problems of the church at Corinth. Knowledge was being treated as if it alone mattered. Some believed that they had got better knowledge and opinions than others, and there was something fundamental missing in their controversies. ‘Knowledge makes arrogant’—‘puffeth up’— ’but love edifies’ (1 Cor. 8:1). ‘Though I have all knowledge . . . and have not love, I am nothing’ (1 Cor. 13:2). The truth defended without love is not genuine Christianity. When disputes and differences arise they are not likely to be solved only by argument. Supernatural aid is needed. Thomas Manton wrote: ‘In our contests about religion, God must especially be sought unto for a blessing . . . disputing times should also be praying times. Prejudices will never vanish till God “send out his light and truth”, Psa. 43:3; and if the devil be not prayed down, as well as disputed down, little good cometh of our contests.’¹⁸

4. The danger of underestimating how much combustible material there is still in the best of Christians. Controversy can easily be the spark that ignites pride, conceit, ambition, and thus gives scope to the worst in human nature. It is sadly clear that some controversies in the churches show little concern for the glory of God. Archibald Alexander wrote: ‘It has long been remarked, that no spirit is more pungent and bitter than that of theologians in their contentions with one another; and it has often happened, that the less the difference, the more virulent the acrimony.’¹⁹ How is such a thing possible if there are Christians on both sides? It is because in the heat of controversy the weakness and imperfection which beset us all are ignored. And we have an adversary who is well able to tempt us to wrong judgments and suspicions about other Christians. ‘Satan knows that nothing is more fit to lay waste the kingdom of Christ than discord and disagreement among the faithful’ (Calvin). One temptation of the devil is to lead Christians to think that so long as they are defending the truth, and ‘upholding the church’, then other duties may be temporarily suspended. Who does not know that in controversy there are duties which almost pass out of sight? Christ’s ‘Golden Rule’, ‘Whatsoever you would that men should do to you, do you even so to them’ (Matt. 7:12), is laid aside.²⁰ So is the royal law, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself ’, and the apostolic command, ‘Let each esteem other better than themselves’ (Phil. 2:3).

When controversies start brotherly love can degenerate into meaning loving those who agree with me, or loving those who belong to the same party or denomination as I do. Robert Candlish has the evidence of church history supporting him when he writes of how brotherly love can turn into sectarianism and partisanship:

You love as brethren those who happen to agree with you in holding certain opinions, pursuing certain ends. But if your unity is simply the result of your unanimity, it may make you strong as an ecclesiastical corporation; it may make you proud and happy as a select spiritual company, dwelling apart, nearer the throne than many. But it does not enlarge or elevate the heart. It is of the earth. It breeds earthly passions,—censoriousness, superciliousness, the bigot’s mean intolerance. Such brotherly love has been the bane and curse of the Church in all ages, the scandal of Christianity, the fruitful mother of strife among its professors.²¹

5. The danger of not foreseeing what desolations controversy can cause in the churches. The evidence of church history is that times of controversy between Christians have commonly been followed by times of much deadness and lack of evangelistic success. That is not surprising, for contentions between Christians and churches grieve the Holy Spirit and encourage unbelief in the world. Unbelievers commonly may not understand the points of difference in controversies, but they can understand a worldly spirit, and when they see that operating among Christians they judge there is nothing supernatural in the faith.

Charles J. Brown, Free Church of Scotland leader of the nineteenth century, says this on Paul entreating the Christians at Philippi to unity: ‘He knew that contention at once eats into the vitals of the Church itself, and exposes it to the ridicule and scorn of the world, stops the progress of the Gospel in Christians themselves and paralyses all their efforts to make it known to others. Therefore is he so intensely desirous to crush this evil in the bud.’²² Henry Coray, a witness to the divisions among men of Reformed persuasion after the death of Machen in 1937, left this testimony in 1981:

In retrospect, there is probably not a person living who passed through those tumultuous years who does not look back on the fragmentation with sorrow and regret. Unfortunately in controversy emotions too often color principles, feelings run high, statements are tossed off that should never be voiced, personality clashes with personality, and scars of battle will be carried to the cemetery.²³

How often we miss the warning of Scripture: ‘The beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water’ (Prov. 17:14), on which Charles Bridges writes: ‘One provoking word brings on another. Every retort widens the breach. Seldom, when we have heard the first word, do we hear the last. An inundation of evil is poured in, that lays desolate peace, comfort, and conscience. Does not grace teach us the Christian victory, to keep down the expression of resentment, and rather bear provocation, than to break the bond of unity?’

John Newton as an example

John Newton was a peace maker. He lived at a time when there were some sharp disputes between evangelical Christians, and he stressed the catholicity that should mark all who belong to Christ:

I profess myself to be of no party, and to love all of every party who love the Lord in sincerity. If they preach the truth in love, live as they preach, and are wise and watchful to win souls, and to feed the flock, I care not much whether they are called, Presbyterians, Congregationalists, Churchmen, Kirkmen, or Methodists . . . In some of the great shops of London, there are several counters; and servants at each attend the customers. If these servants are faithful and have their master’s interests at heart, they will not be jealous of each other, they will not affront the customers by saying ‘Why do you not come to be served on my side of the shop?’ If they are all well served and pleased, it signifies not to which counter they come. Now what are we but servants of one great master? What are our denominations and distinctions but as the several counters? ²⁴

Newton was not the kind of easy-going pacifist who did not believe in controversy at all. But he has a good deal to say to gospel ministers, and especially to young ministers, on being drawn into controversy. We find him, for example, in correspondence with John Ryland Jr, a young preacher who has recently escaped from hyper-Calvinism. He now believed, as Newton believed, that the gospel is to be offered to all people. But his father, a veteran preacher, still leant on the side of hyper-Calvinism and put his belief into print. The son writes to Newton and asks whether he should go into print with his views, contrary to those of his father. In reply Newton grants the father has some failings, and then comments: ‘He has not left many equal to him, in some respects. I would no more write against such a man, though he is not my father, than I would use my right hand to wound my left.’ Newton gently suggests that Ryland Jr was too ready to get into combat, and writes: ‘It seems errors are breaking out in the several places you mention, and you are on the point of writing to suppress them. But if there was a fire in all these towns, must they be burned to ashes, unless you can go with your bucket of water to quench the flames?’ He urges him to concentrate on preaching the truth and to take ‘less pains to combat and confute error’.²⁵ Elsewhere Newton writes of the need for an earnest defence of the faith, but while he underlines that such work is praiseworthy and honourable, he says it is also dangerous: ‘We find but very few writers of controversy who have not been manifestly hurt by it. Either they grow in a sense of their own importance, or imbibe an angry contentious spirit. . . . What will it profit a man if he gains his cause, and silences his adversary, if at the same time he loses that humble, tender frame of spirit in which the Lord delights, and to which the promise of his presence is made!’²⁶ If a Christian is convinced of his duty to enter into dispute with men teaching errors, then, Newton says, first, commend your opponent by earnest prayer ‘to the Lord’s teaching and blessing’. Then consider whether the opponent is to be regarded as a believer. In that case the Lord loves him, is patient with him, and ‘you must not despise him, or treat him harshly. . . . In a little while you will meet in heaven; he will then be dearer to you than the nearest friend you have upon earth is to you now. Anticipate that period in your thoughts; and though you may find it necessary to oppose his error, view him personally as a kindred soul, with whom you are to be happy in Christ forever.’

But supposing you think the opponent is unconverted (a conclusion not to be reached without good evidence), then, ‘He is a more proper object for your compassion than your anger. If God in his sovereign pleasure, had so appointed, you might have been as he is now. You were both equally blind by nature. If you attend to this, you will not reproach or hate him, because the Lord has been pleased to open your eyes and not his. Of all people who engage in controversy, we, who are called Calvinists, are most expressly bound by our own principles to the exercise of gentleness and moderation. If, indeed, they who differ from us have a power of changing themselves, if they can open their own eyes, then we might with less inconsistency be offended at their obstinacy.’²⁷ In addition to Newton’s letters, we have valuable information from another source on how he sought to practise his principles. The Rev. Thomas Scott served a parish not far from Newton’s at Olney. When they first met, Scott did not believe in the Trinity and treated evangelical beliefs as matters for amusement. ‘Once’, Scott writes, ‘I had the curiosity to hear him [Newton] preach; and, not understanding his sermon, I made a very great jest of it.’ Yet he was drawn to Newton, and when Newton gave him an evangelical book, he wrote to him in the hope of engaging him in ‘a controversial discussion of our religious differences’. ‘My arguments’, he believed ‘would prove irresistibly convincing’. Accordingly about nine or ten letters passed between the two men, but to Scott’s annoyance Newton would not debate theological points with him; instead he wrote of such things as the nature of true faith and how it is to be sought and obtained. For an interval of sixteen months this correspondence was dropped, but Newton treated his proud critic as a friend, and at length, when personal discouragements drove Scott to Olney for help, that friendship became one of the means God used to make Thomas Scott a new man and a leading evangelical writer. The whole story is told by Scott in a piece of autobiography, The Force of Truth, An Authentic Narrative.²⁸

Conclusions

1. Men need to know themselves. Some by temperament are inclined to be pacifists in all disputes, and to decline controversy even when it is necessary. In that way errors and evils are often allowed to take root in churches unopposed. But much damage is also done by those who are too ready to take up issues, and even to enjoy strife. Thomas Scott, after his conversion, reflected on this problem, when he wrote, ‘Mr Newton is, I think, too much afraid of controversy; others are too fond of it.’²⁹ Certainly all preachers should be very sparing in taking up current controversies in the pulpit; a diet of criticism regularly delivered will produce a censorious people.

2. It is essential that time and energy be given to the main things. As Baxter wrote: ‘Unholiness is the great point of difference . . . our towns and countries have two sorts of people in them; some are converted and some unconverted; some holy and some unholy; some live for heaven and some are all for earth; some are ruled by the word of God and some by their own flesh and wills.’³⁰ ‘It is the principles and fundamental truths that life and death doth most depend upon, in which the essentials of Christianity do consist . . . Get well to heaven, and help your people thither, and you shall know all these things in a moment.’³¹

3. In all controversy unnecessary adverse comment on persons is to be avoided, and likewise the use of pejorative names and titles. After his early ministry, Spurgeon stopped describing fellow evangelicals as ‘Arminians’, while he continued to indicate his disagreement with their thinking. The use of offensive labels is more calculated to alienate brethren than to help them.

4. Brotherly love and humility are the great antidotes to wrong controversies. It is for the exercise of these graces that Paul entreats the disagreeing Christians at Philippi (Phil. 2:1-4). On which verses Charles J. Brown observed:

There would be very little fear indeed, of Christians differing from each other, in anything of material consequence,—anything which they would find it necessary to make a matter of controversy in the Church,—if only they were thoroughly joined together in love and mutual affection. No doubt even the most attached and endeared Christian friends might differ in minor shades of opinion. But they would infallibly come to an agreement in things important and vital, so as to be, to all practical purposes, ‘perfectly joined together in the same mind and in the same judgment’. It will be found to be the failure of love that principally, and in the first instance, gives rise to all formal and avowed differences and oppositions of sentiment among Christians.³²

5. This subject enforces our need of repentance. How great is the unrecognized damage done in this area! We may be looking for spiritual success and yet at the same time be grieving the Spirit of God in God-dishonouring controversies. We too often treat contention with brethren as though it were contention against the world, forgetting the words of Samuel Rutherford; ‘Why should we strive? For we be Brethren, the sons of one father, the born citizens of one mother Jerusalem . . . We strive as we are carnal, we dispute as we are men, we war from our lusts, we dispute from diversity of star-light and day-light.’³³ How much damaging, discouraging strife can be found alongside a profession of faith in Christian unity! We confuse man’s wisdom with the wisdom which is ‘first pure, then peaceable, gentle and easy to be entreated’ (James 3:17). How many of our words will be found as ‘wood, hay, stubble’ when ‘the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is’ (1 Cor. 3:12, 13)? Boldness in opposing serious error is a need of the hour, but prayer for peace makers has surely taken too low place in our priorities, and we suffer for it.

6. Wrong words arise from wrong thinking. Hence the concluding exhortation of the apostle to believers whose unity was in danger. After reminding them of how prayer is indispensable for the possession of the peace of God, he tells them what they are to do with their minds—some things are always to be thought about, to be pondered: ‘Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things . . . and the God of peace will be with you’ (Phil. 4:8, 9). ‘Finally, brethren . . . be of one mind, live in peace; and the God of love and peace shall be with you’ (2 Cor. 13:11).

Featured Photo by Miguel Henriques on Unsplash

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That conviction of sin is a necessary part of experimental religion, all will admit; but there is one question respecting this matter, concerning which there may be much doubt; and that is, whether a law-work, prior to regeneration, is necessary; or, whether all true and salutary conviction is not the effect of regeneration.

I find that a hundred years ago this was a matter in dispute between the two parties into which the Presbyterian church was divided, called the old and new side. The Tennents and Blairs insisted much on the necessity of conviction of sin by the law, prior to regeneration; while Thompson and his associates were of opinion that no such work was necessary, nor should be insisted on. As far as I know, the opinion of the necessity of legal conviction has generally prevailed in all our modern revivals: and it is usually taken for granted, that the convictions experienced are prior to regeneration. But it would be very difficult to prove from Scripture, or from the nature of the case, that such a preparatory work was necessary.

Suppose an individual to be, in some certain moment, regenerated; such a soul would begin to see with new eyes, and his own sins would be among the things first viewed in a new light. He would be convinced, not only of the fact that they were transgressions of the law, but he would also see that they were intrinsically evil, and that he deserved the punishment to which they exposed him. It is only such a conviction as this that really prepares a soul to accept of Christ in all His offices; not only as a Saviour from wrath, but from sin. And it can scarcely be believed, that that clear view of the justice of God in their condemnation, which most persons sensibly experience, is the fruit of a mere legal conviction on an unregenerate heart. For this view of God’s justice is not merely of the fact that this is His character, but of the divine excellency of His attributes, which is accompanied with admiration of it, and a feeling of acquiescence or submission. This view is sometimes so clear, and the equity and propriety of punishing sin are so manifest, and the feeling of acquiescence so strong, that it has laid the foundation for the very absurd opinion, that the true penitent is made willing to be damned for the glory of God. When such a conviction as this is experienced, the soul is commonly nigh to comfort, although at the moment it is common to entertain the opinion, that there is no salvation for it. It is wonderful, and almost unaccountable, how calm the soul is in the prospect of being for ever lost.

An old lady of the Baptist denomination was the first person I ever heard give an account of Christian experience, and I recollect that she said that she was so deeply convinced that she should be lost, that she began to think how she should feel and be exercised in hell; and it occurred to her, that all in that horrid place were employed in blaspheming the name of God. The thought of doing so was rejected with abhorrence, and she felt as if she must and would love Him, even there, for His goodness to her; for she saw that she alone was to blame for her destruction, and that He could, in consistence with His character, do nothing else but inflict this punishment on her. Now surely her heart was already changed, although not a ray of comfort had dawned upon her mind. But is there not before this, generally, a rebellious rising against God, and a disposition to find fault with His dealings? It may be so in many cases, but this feeling is far from being as universal as some suppose. As far as the testimony of pious people can be depended on, there are many whose first convictions are of the evil of sin, rather than of its danger, and who feel real compunction of spirit for having committed it, accompanied with a lively sense of their ingratitude. This question, however, is not of any great practical importance; but there are some truly pious persons who are distressed and perplexed, because they never experienced that kind of conviction which they hear others speak of, and the necessity of which is insisted on by some preachers. Certainly that which the reprobate may experience – which is not different from what all the guilty will feel at the day of judgment – cannot be a necessary part of true religion; and yet it does appear to be a common thing for awakened persons to be at first under a mere legal conviction.

Though man, in his natural state, is spiritually dead, that is, entirely destitute of any spark of true holiness, yet is he still a reasonable being, and has a conscience by which he is capable of discerning the difference between good and evil, and of feeling the force of moral obligation. By having his sins brought clearly before his mind, and his conscience awakened from its stupor, he can be made to feel what his true condition is as a transgressor of the holy law of God. This sight and sense of sin, under the influence of the common operations of the Spirit of God, is what is usually styled conviction of sin. And there can be no doubt that these views and feelings may be very clear and strong in an unrenewed mind. Indeed, they do not differ in kind from what every sinner will experience at the day of judgment, when his own conscience will condemn him, and he will stand guilty before his Judge. But there is nothing in this kind of conviction which has any tendency to change the heart, or to make it better. Some indeed have maintained, with some show of reason, that under mere legal conviction the sinner grows worse and worse; and certainly he sees his sins to be greater in proportion as the light of truth increases. There is not, therefore, in such convictions, however clear and strong, any approximation to regeneration. It cannot be called a preparatory work to this change, in the sense of disposing the person to receive the grace of God. The only end which it can answer is to show the rational creature his true condition, and to convince the sinner of his absolute need of a Saviour. Under conviction there is frequently a more sensible rising of the enmity of the heart against God and His law; but feelings of this kind do not belong to the essence of conviction. There is also sometimes an awful apprehension of danger; the imagination is filled with strong images of terror, and hell seems almost uncovered to the view of the convinced sinner. But there may be much of this feeling of terror, where there is very little real conviction of sin; and on the other hand, there often is deep and permanent conviction, where the passions and imagination are very little excited.

When the entrance of light is gradual, the first effect of an awakened conscience is, to attempt to rectify what now appears to have been wrong in the conduct. It is very common for the conscience, at first, to be affected with outward acts of transgression, and especially with some one prominent offence. An external reformation is now begun: for this can be effected by mere legal conviction. To this is added an attention to the external duties of religion, such as prayer, reading the Bible, hearing the Word, etc. Every thing, however, is done with a legal spirit; that is, with the wish and expectation of making amends for past offences; and if painful penances should be prescribed to the sinner, he will readily submit to them if he may, by this means, make some atonement for his sins. But as the light increases, he begins to see that his heart is wicked, and to be convinced that his very prayers are polluted for want of right motives and affections. He, of course, tries to regulate his thoughts and to exercise right affections; but here his efforts prove fruitless. It is much easier to reform the life than to bring the corrupt heart into a right state. The case now begins to appear desperate. The sinner knows not which way to turn for relief and, to cap the climax of his distress, he comes at length to be conscious of nothing but unyielding hardness of heart. He fears that the conviction which he seemed to have is gone, and that he is left to total obduracy. In these circumstances he desires to feel keen compunction and overwhelming terror, for his impression is that he is entirely without conviction. The truth is, however, that his convictions are far greater than if he experienced that sensible distress which he so much courts. In this case, he would not think his heart so incurably bad, because it could entertain some right feeling, but as it is, he sees it to be destitute of every good emotion and of all tender relentings. He has got down to the core of iniquity, and finds within his breast a heart unsusceptible of any good thing. Does he hear that others have obtained relief by hearing such a preacher, reading such a book, conversing with some experienced Christian? He resorts to the same means, but entirely without effect. The heart seems to become more insensible, in proportion to the excellence of the means enjoyed. Though he declares he has no sensibility of any kind, yet his anxiety increases; and perhaps he determines to give himself up solely to prayer and reading the Bible; and if he perish, to perish seeking for mercy. But however strong such resolutions may be, they are found to be in vain; for now, when he attempts to pray, he finds his mouth as it were shut. He cannot pray. He cannot read. He cannot meditate. What can he do? Nothing. He has come to the end of his legal efforts; and the result has been the simple, deep conviction that he can do nothing; and if God does not mercifully interpose, he must inevitably perish. During all this process he has some idea of his need of divine help, but until now he was not entirely cut off from all dependence on his own strength and exertions. He still hoped that, by some kind of effort or feeling he could prepare himself for the mercy of God. Now he despairs of this, and not only so, but for a season he despairs, it may be, of salvation – gives himself up for lost. I do not say that this is a necessary feeling, by any means, but I know that it is very natural, and by no means uncommon, in real experience. But conviction having accomplished all that it is capable of effecting, that is, having emptied the creature of self-dependence and self-righteousness, and brought him to the utmost extremity – even to the borders of despair, it is time for God to work. The proverb says, ‘Man’s extremity is God’s opportunity’: so it is in this case; and at this time, it may reasonably be supposed, the work of regeneration is wrought, for a new state of feeling is now experienced. Upon calm reflection, God appears to have been just and good in all His dispensations; the blame of its perdition the soul fully takes upon itself, acknowledges its ill-desert, and acquits God. ‘Against thee, thee only, have I sinned and done this evil in thy sight, that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.’ The sinner resigns himself into the hands of God, and yet is convinced that if he does perish, he will suffer only what his sins deserve. He does not fully discover the glorious plan according to which God can be just and the Justifier of the ungodly who believe in Jesus Christ.

The above is not given as a course of experience which all real Christians can recognize as their own, but as a train of exercises which is very common. And as I do not consider legal conviction as necessary to precede regeneration, but suppose there are cases in which the first serious impressions may be the effect of regeneration, I cannot, of course, consider any particular train of exercises under the law as essential. It has been admitted, however, that legal conviction does in fact take place in most instances, prior to regeneration; and it is not an unreasonable inquiry, why is the sinner thus awakened? What good purpose does it answer? The reply has been already partially given; but it may be remarked, that God deals with man as an accountable, moral agent, and before he rescues him from the ruin into which he is sunk, he would let him see and feel, in some measure, how wretched his condition is; how helpless he is in himself, and how ineffectual are his most strenuous efforts to deliver himself from his sin and misery. He is therefore permitted to try his own wisdom and strength. And finally, God designs to lead him to the full acknowledgment of his own guilt, and to justify the righteous Judge who condemns him to everlasting torment. Conviction, then, is no part of a sinner’s salvation, but the clear practical knowledge of the fact that he cannot save himself, and is entirely dependent on the saving grace of God.

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It is an interesting question whether now there are any persons sanctified from the womb. If the communication of grace ever took place at so early a period of human existence, there is no reason why it should not now sometimes occur. God says to Jeremiah, ‘Before I formed thee in the belly, I knew thee, and before thou camest forth out of the womb, I sanctified thee.’ And of John the Baptist, Gabriel said to Zacharias, his father, ‘And he shall be filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother’s womb.’ The prophet Samuel also seems to have feared the Lord from his earliest childhood. In later times, cases have often occurred in which eminently pious persons could not remember the time when they did not love the Saviour and experience godly sorrow for their sins; and as we believe that infants may be the subjects of regeneration, and cannot be saved without it, why may it not be the fact that some who are regenerated live to mature age? I know, indeed, that many conceive that infants are naturally free from moral pollution and, of course, need no regeneration; but this opinion is diametrically opposite to the doctrine of Scripture, and inconsistent with the acknowledged fact that, as soon as they are capable of moral action, all do go astray and sin against God. If children were not depraved, they would be naturally inclined to love God and delight in His holy law; but the reverse is true.

Perhaps one reason why so few are regenerated at this early age is, lest some should adopt the opinion that grace came by nature, or that man was not corrupt from his birth. Some have opposed the idea that any are sanctified from their birth, for fear that mere moralists and those religiously educated should indulge the hope that they were born of God, although they have experienced no particular change in any part of their lives, as far back as memory reaches. But allowing that some may improperly make this use of the doctrine, it only proves that a sound doctrine may be abused. All the doctrines of grace have been thus abused, and will be, as long as ‘the heart is deceitful above all things’. There is, however, no ground for those who are still impenitent to comfort themselves with the notion that they were regenerated in early infancy, for piety in a child will be as manifest as in an adult, as soon as such a child comes to the exercise of reason; and in some respects, more so, because there are so few young children who are pious, and because they have more simplicity of character and are much less liable to play the hypocrite than persons of mature age. Mere decency of external behaviour, with a freedom from gross sins, is no evidence of regeneration; for these things may be found in many whose spirit is proud and self-righteous, and entirely opposite to the religion of Christ: and we know that outward regularity and sobriety may be produced by the restraints of a religious education and good example, where there are found none of the internal characteristics of genuine piety.

Suppose then, that in a certain case grace has been communicated at so early a period that its first exercises cannot be remembered, what will be the evidences which we should expect to find of its existence? Surely, we ought not to look for wisdom, judgment, and the stability of adult years, even in a pious child. We should expect, if I may say so, a childish piety – a simple, devout, and tender state of heart. As soon as such a child should obtain the first ideas of God as its Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor, and of Christ as its Saviour, who shed His blood and laid down His life for us on the cross, it would be piously affected with these truths, and would give manifest proof that it possessed a susceptibility of emotions and affections of heart corresponding with the conceptions of truth which it was capable of taking in. Such a child would be liable to sin, as all Christians are, but when made sensible of faults, it would manifest tenderness of conscience and genuine sorrow, and would be fearful of sinning afterwards. When taught that prayer was both a duty and a privilege, it would take pleasure in drawing nigh to God, and would be conscientious in the discharge of secret duties. A truly pious child would be an affectionate and obedient child to its parents and teachers; kind to brothers and sisters, and indeed to all other persons; and would take a lively interest in hearing of the conversion of sinners, and the advancement of Christ’s kingdom in the world.

We ought not to expect from a regenerated child uniform attention to serious subjects, or a freedom from that gaiety and volatility which are characteristic of that tender age; but we should expect to find the natural propensity moderated, and the temper softened and seasoned, by the commingling of pious thoughts and affections with those which naturally flow from the infant mind. When such children are called, in Providence, to leave the world, then commonly their piety breaks out into a flame, and these young saints, under the influence of divine grace, are enabled so to speak of their love to Christ and confidence in Him, as astonishes, while it puts to shame aged Christians. Many examples of this kind we have on record, where the evidence of genuine piety was as strong as it well could be. There is a peculiar sweetness, as well as tenderness, in these early buddings of grace. In short, the exercises of grace are the same in a child as in an adult, only modified by the peculiarities in the character and knowledge of a child. Indeed, many adults in years who are made the subjects of grace are children in knowledge and understanding, and require the same indulgence, in our judgments of them, as children in years.

To those who cannot fix any commencement of their pious exercises, but who possess every other evidence of a change of heart, I would say: Be not discouraged on this account, but rather be thankful that you have been so early placed under the tender care of the great Shepherd, and have thus been restrained from committing many sins to which your nature, as well as that of others, was inclined. The habitual evidences of piety are the same, at whatever period the work commenced. If you possess these, you are safe. And early piety is probably more steady and consistent when matured by age, than that of later origin, though the change, of course, cannot be so evident to yourselves or others.

If piety may commence at any age, how solicitous should parents be for their children, that God would bestow His grace upon them, even before they know their right hand from their left; and, when about to dedicate them to God in holy baptism, how earnestly should they pray that they might be baptized with the Holy Ghost – that while their bodies are washed in the emblematical laver of regeneration, their souls may experience the renewing of the Holy Ghost, and the sprinkling of the blood of Jesus. If the sentiments expressed above be correct, then may there be such a thing as baptismal regeneration; not that the mere external application of water can have any effect to purify the soul; nor that internal grace uniformly or generally accompanies this external washing, but that God, who works when and by what means He pleases, may regenerate by His Spirit the soul of the infant, while in His sacred name, water is applied to the body. And what time in infancy is more likely to be the period of spiritual quickening, than the moment when that sacred rite is performed which is strikingly emblematical of this change? Whether it be proper to say that baptism may be the means of regeneration depends on the sense in which the word means is used. If in the sense of presenting motives to the rational mind, as when the Word is read or heard, then it is not a means, for the child has no knowledge of what is done for it. But if, by means, be understood something which is accompanied by the divine efficiency, changing the moral nature of the infant, then, in this sense, baptism may be called the means of regeneration when thus accompanied by divine grace. The reason why it is believed that regeneration does not usually accompany baptism, is simply because no evidences of spiritual life appear in baptized children, more than in those which remain unbaptized.

The education of children should proceed on the principle that they are in an unregenerate state, until evidences of piety clearly appear, in which case they should be sedulously cherished and nurtured. These are Christ’s lambs – ‘little ones, who believe in Him’ – whom none should offend or mislead upon the peril of a terrible punishment. But though the religious education of children should proceed on the ground that they are destitute of grace, it ought ever to be used as a means of grace. Every lesson, therefore, should be accompanied with the lifting up of the heart of the instructor to God for a blessing on the means, ‘Sanctify them through thy truth; thy word is truth.’

Although the grace of God may be communicated to a human soul at any period of its existence in this world, yet the fact manifestly is, that very few are renewed before the exercise of reason commences; and not many in early childhood. Most persons with whom we have been acquainted grew up without giving any decisive evidence of a change of heart. Though religiously educated, yet they have evinced a want of love to God, and an aversion to spiritual things. Men are very reluctant, it is true, to admit that their hearts are wicked and at enmity with God. They declare that they are conscious of no such feeling, but still the evidence of a dislike to the spiritual worship of God they cannot altogether disguise; and this is nothing else but enmity to God. They might easily be convicted of loving the world more than God, the creature more than the Creator; and we know that he who will be the friend of the world is the enemy of God. Let the most moral and amiable of mankind, who are in this natural state, be asked such questions as these: Do you take real pleasure in perusing the sacred Scriptures, especially those parts which are most spiritual? Do you take delight in secret prayer, and find your heart drawn out to God in strong desires? Do you spend much time in contemplating the divine attributes? Are you in the habit of communing with your own hearts, and examining the true temper of your souls? No unregenerate persons can truly answer these, and suchlike questions, in the affirmative.

It is evident, then, that most persons whom we see around us and with whom we daily converse, are in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity, and, continuing in that state, where Christ is they never can come. And yet, alas! they are at ease in Zion, and seem to have no fear of that wrath which is coming. Their case is not only dangerous, but discouraging. Yet those who are now in a state of grace, yea those of our race who are now in heaven, were once in the same condition. You, my reader, may now be a member of Christ’s body and heir of His glory; but you can easily look back and remember the time when you were as unconcerned about your salvation as any of the gay, who are now fluttering around you. The same power which arrested you is able to stop their mad career. Still hope and pray for their conversion. But tell me, how were you brought to turn from your wayward, downward course? This, as it relates to the external means of awakening, would receive a great variety of answers. One would say, ‘While hearing a particular sermon, I was awakened to see my lost estate, and I never found rest or peace until I was enabled to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.’ Another would answer, ‘I was brought to consideration, by the solemn and pointed conversation of a pious friend who sought my salvation.’ While a third would answer, ‘I was led to serious consideration, by having the hand of God laid heavily upon me in some affliction.’ In regard to many, the answer would be, that their minds were gradually led to serious consideration, they scarcely know how.

Now in regard to these external means or circumstances, it matters not whether the attention was arrested and the conscience awakened, by this or that means, gradually or suddenly. Neither do these things at all assist in determining the nature of the effect produced. All who ever became pious must have begun with serious consideration, whatever means were employed to produce this state of mind. But all who, for a season, become serious, are not certainly converted. There may be  solemn impressions and deep awakenings which never terminate in a saving change, but end in some delusion, or the person returns again to his old condition, or rather to one much worse; for it may be laid down as a maxim, that religious impressions opposed, leave the soul in a more hardened state than before; just as iron, heated and then cooled, becomes harder. In general, those impressions which come gradually, without any unusual means, are more permanent than those which are produced by circumstances of a striking and alarming nature. But even here there is no general rule. The nature of the permanent effects is the only sure criterion. ‘By their fruits ye shall know them.’

Featured Picture: Edmund Bristow, 1787–1876, British, The Young Anglers, ca. 1845, Oil on panel, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection, B2001.2.173.

The post True Piety in Children: Some Observations and Encouragements appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Claim: Jesus had no interest in maintaining a male-female requirement for sexual relations.

What the evidence really shows: Jesus believed that a male-female requirement for sexual relations was foundational, a core value of Scripture’s sexual ethics on which other sexual standards should be based, including the ‘twoness’ of a sexual union.

Jesus predicated marital twoness – the restriction of the number of persons in a sexual union to two, whether concurrently (no polygamy) or serially (no cycle of divorce and remarriage) – on the fact that ‘from the beginning of creation, “male and female He made them” [Gen. 1:27] and “for this reason a man . . . will be joined to his wife and the two will become one flesh” [Gen. 2:24].’ (Mark 10:2-12; Matt. 19:3-9). In other words, the fact that God had designed two (and only two) primary sexes for complementary sexual pairing was Jesus’ basis for a rigorous monogamy position. He reasoned that, since the union of the two sexual halves creates an integrated, self-contained sexual whole, a third sexual partner was neither necessary nor desirable. We know that this was Jesus’ reasoning because the only other first-century Jews that shared Jesus’ opposition to more than two persons in a sexual bond were the Essenes, who likewise rejected ‘taking two wives in their lives’ because ‘the foundation of creation is “male and female he created them” [Gen. 1:27]’ and because ‘those who entered [Noah’s] ark went in two by two into the ark [Gen. 7:9]’ (Damascus Covenant 4.20-5.1). The appeal to the ‘two by two’ statement in the story of Noah’s ark is significant because, apart from the repetition of Genesis 1:27 in 5:1, that is the only other place where the precise Hebrew phrase zakar uneqevah (‘male and female’) appears, and there it is strongly linked with the emphasis on a natural pair. The twoness of the sexes is the foundation for the twoness of the sexual bond. In short, according to Jesus, if you think that limiting the number of partners in a sexual union to two persons at any one time is an important requirement for sexual unions, you should regard a male-female requirement as even more important.

There are many other arguments that one can cite as evidence of Jesus’ rejection of homosexual practice, including the fact that the Old Testament that Jesus accepted as Scripture was strongly opposed; that the man who baptized Jesus (John the Baptist) was beheaded for criticizing Herod Antipas for violating Levitical sex laws (the incest prohibitions, even in adult-consensual relationships); that the entirety of early Judaism out of which Jesus emerged believed homosexual practice to be a gross violation of foundational sexual ethics (there are no extant texts within centuries of the law of Jesus indicating any openness to homosexual relationships of any sort, in contrast to the existence of such texts among ‘pagans’); and that the early church that knew Jesus best was united in its belief that a male-female prerequisite for sexual unions was essential. The supposition of a Jesus supportive of, or even neutral toward, committed homosexual unions is without historical analogue in Jesus’ immediate cultural environment; revisionist history at its worst. Moreover, although we have no extant saying of Jesus that loosened the Law’s demand for sexual purity, we do have sayings where Jesus closed remaining loopholes in the Law’s sexual commands by further intensifying God’s demand (adultery of the heart; divorce & remarriage) and warning people that sexual impurity could get one thrown into hell full-bodied (Matt. 5:27-32). The trend of Jesus’ teaching on sexual ethics is not toward greater licence but toward fewer loopholes.

2. Eunuchs

Claim: The positive treatment that ‘eunuchs’ receive in some biblical texts (Isa. 56:3-5, Matt. 19:12, Acts 8:27-39) provides grounds for supporting homosexual unions, as does Jesus’ attitude toward the woman caught in adultery and toward other outcasts.

What the evidence really shows: The references to eunuchs in Isaiah 56:3-5 and Acts 8:27-39 refer to persons who were physically castrated against their will, not to persons who willingly removed their marks of masculinity, much less actively engaged in sexual relations forbidden by Scripture. Jesus’ saying about eunuchs in Matthew 19:12 presupposes that eunuchs are not having sexual intercourse at all, let alone having forbidden sexual intercourse. Both Jesus’ response to the woman caught in adultery and his outreach to sexual sinners was aimed at achieving their repentance so that they might inherit the kingdom of God that he proclaimed.

Isaiah 39:7 makes clear that the eunuchs mentioned in Isaiah 56:4-5 were Israelites who, against their will, were taken to ‘the palace of the king of Babylon’ and made eunuchs, but had now returned to Israel. According to Isaiah 56:4-5, God will not cut them off from his people so long as they ‘choose the things that please me and hold fast my covenant.’ There is no way that the author would have regarded someone engaged in same-sex intercourse as still pleasing God and holding fast to the covenant. These are persons that had a portion of their masculinity taken away from them against their will. Why should they now be penalized if they do not support erasure of their own masculinity and have no intent to violate any of God’s commands regarding sexual behaviour? A first-century Jewish text, The Wisdom of Solomon, both extols a eunuch who does not violate God’s commands and condemns homosexual practice (Wisd. 3:14; 14:26). Another Jewish work presumes that eunuchs are not having any sexual intercourse (Sirach 20:4; 30:20).

This is exactly what Jesus presumes when he compares ‘eunuchs who make themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of God’ – that is, Christians who opt out of marriage and choose a celibate life in order to have more time and freedom of movement and action to proclaim the gospel – with ‘born eunuchs’ and ‘made eunuchs’. The analogy only works on the assumption that eunuchs do not have sexual relations. So if ‘born eunuchs’ included for Jesus not only asexual men but also men who had sexual desire only for other males then Jesus rejected for them all sexual relations outside the covenant bond of marriage between a man and a woman. In fact, the whole context for the eunuch saying in Matthew 19:10-12 is Jesus’ argument that the twoness of the sexes in complementary sexual pairing, ‘male and female,’ is the basis for rejecting sexual relationships involving three or more persons. He can hardly be dismissing the importance of a male-female requirement for sexual relations immediately after establishing the foundational character of such a requirement – certainly not in Matthew’s view of the matter.

When Jesus rescued the woman caught in adultery from being stoned, he did so with a view to encouraging her repentance. Put simply, dead people don’t repent. Jesus wanted to give the woman every last opportunity to repent so that she might inherit the kingdom of God. So he warned her: ‘Go and from now on no longer be sinning’ (John 8:11). A similar statement is made by Jesus in John 5:14, where it is followed up with the remark: ‘lest something worse happen to you.’ That something worse is loss of eternal life through an unrepentant life. Whereas the Pharisees didn’t care if sexual sinners and persons who exploited the poor for material gain (first-century tax collectors) went to hell, Jesus cared enough to make them a focus of his ministry so that he might, through a proclamation of love and repentance, call them back to God’s kingdom (hence Mark’s summary of Jesus’ ministry: ‘The kingdom of God has drawn near; repent and believe the good news’ [1:15]). When the church calls to repentance those who engage in homosexual acts and does so lovingly, with a desire to reclaim lives for the kingdom of God, it carries out the work of its Lord.

3. Romans 1:24-27 and the Erroneous ‘Exploitation Argument’

Claim: The Bible’s prohibition of homosexual practice in Romans 1:24-27 applies only to exploitative and hedonistic forms of homosexual practice such as sex with slaves, prostitutes, and adolescents.

What the evidence really shows: Every piece of evidence that can be culled from the text’s literary and historical context confirms that the Bible’s prohibition of homosexual practice, like its prohibition of adult incestuous unions, is absolute, rejecting all forms of homosexual practice regardless of consent and commitment.

Five lines of evidence make this point clear.

First, Paul in Romans 1:24-27 rejects homosexual practice because it is a violation of God’s creation of ‘male and female’ as a sexual pair in Genesis. In Romans 1:23-27 Paul intentionally echoed Genesis 1:26-27, making eight points of correspondence, in the same tripartite structure, between the two sets of texts (humans/image/likeness, birds/cattle/reptiles, male/female). Paul was rejecting homosexual practice in the first instance because it was a violation of the male-female prerequisite for sexual relations ordained by the Creator at creation, not because of how well or badly it was done in his cultural milieu.

Second, the kind of nature argument that Paul employs in Romans 1:18-27 isn’t conducive to a distinction between exploitative and non-exploitative forms of homosexual practice. For Paul contended that female-female and male-male intercourse was ‘contrary to nature’ because it violated obvious clues given in the material structures of creation that male and female, not two males or two females, are each others sexual ‘counterpart’ or ‘complement’ (to use the language of Gen. 2:18, 20) in terms of anatomy, physiology, and psychology. What Paul says regarding the vertical vice of idolatry (1:19-23) is equally true of the horizontal vice of same-sex intercourse: male-female complementarity is ‘clearly seen, being mentally apprehended by means of the things made‘ (1:19-20). Some have argued that the ancients had no comprehension of a complementarity argument. Yet as classicist Thomas K. Hubbard notes in his magisterial sourcebook of texts pertaining to Homosexuality in Greece and Rome (University of California Press, 2003): ‘Basic to the heterosexual position [among Greek and Roman moralists in the first few centuries A.D.] is the characteristic Stoic appeal to the providence of Nature, which has matched and fitted the sexes to each other’ (p. 444). Hubbard is supportive of homosexual relationships, yet admits the point.

Third, the fact that Paul in Romans 1:27 specifically indicts male homosexual relations that involve mutual, reciprocal affections – ‘males, having left behind the natural use of the female, were inflamed with their yearning for one another’ – precludes any supposition that Paul is thinking only of coercive relationships.

Fourth, Paul’s indictment of lesbianism in Romans 1:26 further confirms that his indictment of homosexual practice is absolute, since female homosexuality in antiquity was not primarily known, or criticized, for the exploitative practices of sex with slaves, prostitutes, or children. And there can be little doubt that Paul was indicting female homosexuality, as evidenced by: (1) the parallelism of the language of 1:26 (‘females exchanged the natural use’) and 1:27 (‘likewise also the males leaving behind the natural use of the female‘); (2) the fact that in antiquity lesbian intercourse was the form of female intercourse most commonly labelled ‘contrary to nature’ and paired with male homosexual practice; (3) the fact of nearly universal male opposition to lesbianism in antiquity, even by men engaged in homosexual practice; and (4) the fact that lesbian intercourse was the dominant interpretation of Romans 1:26 in the patristic period.

Fifth, contrary to false claims that people in the Greco-Roman world had no concept of committed homosexual unions, there is plenty of evidence for the conception and existence of loving homosexual relationships, including semi-official ‘marriages’ between men and between women. Moreover, we know of some Greco-Roman moralists who acknowledged the existence of loving homosexual relationships while rejecting even these as unnatural (indeed, we can trace this idea back to Plato’s Laws). This is also true of the Church Fathers. For example, Clement of Alexandria (late second century) referred to ‘women . . . contrary to nature . . . marrying women’ (Paidagogos 3.3.21.3). Obviously marriage implies commitment (else there is no need to marry) yet commitment does not change the unnatural and sinful character of the relationship. And it should go without saying that Jewish writers in Paul’s day and beyond rejected all forms of homosexual activity. For example, the first-century Jewish historian Josephus stated the obvious to his Roman readers: ‘The law [of Moses] recognizes only sexual intercourse that is according to nature, that which is with a woman . . . But it abhors the intercourse of males with males’ (Against Apion 2.199).

It is hardly surprising, then, that even Louis Crompton, a homosexual scholar, acknowledges this point in his massive work, Homosexuality and Civilization (Harvard University Press, 2003; 500 pgs.):

However well-intentioned, the interpretation that Paul’s words were not directed at ‘bona fide’ homosexuals in committed relationships . . . seems strained and unhistorical. Nowhere does Paul or any other Jewish writer of this period imply the least acceptance of same-sex relations under any circumstance. The idea that homosexuals might be redeemed by mutual devotion would have been wholly foreign to Paul or any other Jew or early Christian. (p. 114)

Also worth noting is the falsity of claims that the ancient world knew nothing akin to our understanding of a homosexual orientation or of congenital influences on at least some homosexual development. As classicist Thomas K. Hubbard (cited above) notes:

Homosexuality in this era [i.e., of the early Imperial Age of Rome] may have ceased to be merely another practice of personal pleasure and began to be viewed as an essential and central category of personal identity, exclusive of and antithetical to heterosexual orientation. (p. 386)

Bernadette Brooten, a lesbian New Testament scholar who has written the most important book on lesbianism in antiquity also acknowledges this point. She states that

Paul could have believed [that some persons attracted to members of the same sex] were born that way and yet still condemn them [better: their behaviours] as unnatural and shameful . . . I see Paul as condemning all forms of homoeroticism as the unnatural acts of people who had turned away from God. (Love Between Women: Early Christian Responses to Female Homoeroticism [University of Chicago, 1996], 244).

4. Analogies

Claim: The closest analogies to the Bible’s opposition to homosexual practice are the Bible’s support for both slavery and the oppression of women and its opposition to divorce, all positions that we now reject.

What the evidence really shows: The alleged analogies cited above are far more remote than the analogies of the Bible’s opposition to incest and the New Testament’s opposition to polygamy – behaviours that would disqualify any participants from ordained office, even when the relationships in question are adult, consensual, committed, and exhibit no scientifically measurable harm.

Scripture’s opposition to incest and (in the New Testament) polygamy or polyamory (sexual love for multiple persons concurrently) are related in key ways to its opposition to homosexual practice. They are all sexual behaviours proscribed in one or both Testaments of Scripture, and proscribed absolutely, despite the fact that all three are able to be conducted as caring and committed adult sexual relationships. Incest is ultimately prohibited on the grounds that it is sexual intercourse with a person who, in terms of embodied existence, is too much of a ‘same’ or like on a kinship level (compare Leviticus 18:6: ‘no one shall approach any flesh of one’s flesh to uncover nakedness’). The higher risks of procreative difficulties that attend fertile incestuous unions are merely the symptoms of the root problem: too much identity on the kinship level between close blood relations. Similarly the inability of persons of the same sex to procreate is merely the symptom of the root problem: too much embodied identity, here as regards gender or sex, between persons of the same sex. If anything, the identity is more keenly felt in same-sex intercourse since sex or gender is a more integral component of sexuality than blood relatedness. As regards polygamy or polyamory, we have already seen in point 1 above that Jesus predicated his rejection of such behaviour on God’s creation of two sexes for complementary sexual pairing. So a two-sexes prerequisite for sexual relations and a limitation of the number of persons in a sexual union to two are related as foundation and superstructure (the latter being built on the former). These links indicate that the Bible’s prohibition of incest and the New Testament’s prohibition of multiple-partner sexual unions even for males (note that the Old Testament never allowed women to have multiple husbands concurrently [polyandry]) are very close analogies to the Bible’s strong prohibition of homosexual practice.

Slavery is a bad analogy to the Bible’s opposition to homosexual practice because,

first, the Bible shows no vested interest in preserving slavery but rather at a number of points has a critical edge against slavery (for example, having mandatory release dates, maintaining the right of kin to buy loved ones out of slavery at any time, insisting that fellow Israelites not be treated as slaves). Relative to the slave cultures of the ancient Near East and the Greco-Roman Mediterranean basin, the countercultural thrust of the Scriptures is against slavery. However, as regards a male-female requirement for sexual relations, the Bible’s critical edge and countercultural thrust is decidedly in the direction of strong opposition to all homosexual practice.

Second, whereas race or ethnicity is a 100% heritable, absolutely immutable, and primarily non-behavioural condition, and so inherently benign, homosexual desire is an impulse and, like many impulses, it is not 100% heritable (there may be congenital influences but these are not absolutely deterministic), is open to some change (even if only, in some cases, a limited reduction in the intensity of impulses), is primarily behavioural (here for unnatural, i.e. structurally incompatible, sexual activity), and therefore is not inherently benign.

Third, the parallel with slavery lies with support for homosexual unions, not opposition to such, since those insisting that homosexual desires be affirmed by the church are promoting enslavement to impulses to do what God in Scripture expressly forbids.

The Bible’s stance toward women’s roles is a bad analogy for similar reasons.

First, comparing being a woman and having homoerotic impulses confuses categories. Being a woman, unlike homosexual impulses, is a condition that is 100% congenital, absolutely immutable, and not a direct desire for behaviour that Scripture expressly forbids.

Second, there are plenty of positive views of women in Scripture (e.g., the roles played by Judge Deborah and Ruth in the Old Testament, Jesus’ commendation of female discipleship and Paul’s salute to women co-workers in the New Testament), but only strongly negative assessments of homosexual practice.

As with the issue of slavery, the countercultural thrust of Scripture leans in the direction of supporting egalitarian roles for women while being far more stringently and consistently opposed to homosexual practice than anywhere else in the ancient world.

Divorce and remarriage also has serious problems as an analogue to the Bible’s prohibition of homosexual practice, for three reasons.

First, in Scripture divorce and remarriage is simply not as bad as homosexual practice. Jesus predicated his opposition to divorce and remarriage on the foundation that God created us as ‘male and female,’ with the twoness of the sexes defining the twoness of the sexual bond. The foundation is always more important than the superstructure built on it. Logically it is not possible to justify licence in a greater matter by limited licence in a lesser matter. For example, it would be illegitimate to argue that greater tolerance toward divorce and remarriage should lead to greater tolerance toward incest or ‘plural’ marriages. The reason is because the latter two offences are regarded as more severe. Moreover, there is no virtue to being more consistently disobedient to the will of Christ.

Second, the Bible shows a limited canonical diversity toward divorce (permitted for men in the Old Testament; in the New Testament allowed in cases of sexual immorality or marriage to an unbeliever who insists on leaving) but no diversity on the matter of homosexual practice. There are ameliorating factors in the case of some divorce/remarriage situations that simply don’t apply in the case of a consensual homosexual union (for example, a spouse can be divorced against her or his will or subject to regular and serious abuse, which creates perpetrator vs. victim distinctions irrelevant to a voluntary entrance into a homosexual union).

Third, and most importantly, the church’s stance toward divorce/remarriage on the one hand and homosexual practice on the other are alike in this respect: the church works to end the cycle. The church would not ordain any candidate for office who expressed the view: ‘I’ve been divorced and remarried a number of times and would like to continue the cycle of divorce and remarriage with the fewest negative side-effects.’ Such a person could not be ordained because that person has an unreformed mind. Why, then, should the church ordain someone who not only engaged in homosexual practice on multiple occasions in the past but also intends to continue in such behaviour in a serial, unrepentant way?

Often church proponents of homosexual unions also cite the inclusion of Gentiles in Acts 10-11, 15 apart from requiring circumcision and observance of dietary law. This too is a bad analogy, for many reasons.

First, whereas a circumcision requirement and dietary commands are not grounded in creation, a male-female prerequisite for sexual relations is so grounded.

Second, whereas circumcision is a Jewish ritual prescription enjoined in the first century only on proselytes and affecting the body only superficially, the Bible (and early Judaism’s and early Christianity’s) prohibition of homosexual practice was regarded as a universal moral proscription enjoined on all Gentiles precisely because, like sexual immorality generally, homosexual practice affects the body holistically. Both Jesus (Mark 7:14-23) and Paul (1 Cor. 6:12-20) forbade comparisons between food laws and prohibitions of sexual immorality and yet proponents of homosexual unions continue to make such comparisons.

Third, whereas Gentile inclusion in the first century was about welcoming persons but rejecting behaviours (i.e. the kinds of sexual immorality rampant in the Gentile world), today’s efforts to normalize homosexual practice are about accepting specific behaviours.

Fourth, whereas Scripture only incidentally links Gentiles to sin (it recognizes the category of righteous or God-fearing Gentiles), Scripture intrinsically links homosexual practice to sin.

Fifth, whereas Gentile inclusion receives significant Old Testament precedent (for example, Rahab, Ruth, widow at Zarephath, Naaman, the story of Jonah) and uniform New Testament support, homosexual practice is totally rejected in all parts of Scripture – so much so that to argue for affirmation of homosexual unions as the Spirit’s new work becomes absurd inasmuch as it puts the Spirit at odds with Scripture’s core values in sexual ethics.

A principle of good analogical reasoning is: The closest, and thus best, analogies are those that share the closest substantive points of contact with the thing being compared. Honest analogical reasoning does not prefer more distant analogies over closer analogies. Consequently, it is inappropriate to cite the alleged analogies of slavery, women’s roles, divorce and remarriage, and first-century Gentile inclusion as key in the discussion of Scripture and homosexuality while at the same time ignoring both the enormous differences with the Bible’s stance on homosexual practice and the more substantive parallels to the Bible’s stance on incest and polyamory.

5. Significance

Claim: The Bible is not particularly interested in homosexual practice as evidenced by the fact that it is only mentioned on a few occasions.

What the evidence really shows: All the contextual evidence indicates that ancient Israel, early Judaism, and early Christianity viewed homosexual practice of every sort as abhorrent to God, an extreme sexual offence comparable only to the worst forms of adult incest (say, a man and his mother) and superseded among ‘consensual’ sexual offences only by bestiality.

A male-female prerequisite is powerfully evident throughout the pages of Scripture. Every biblical narrative, law, proverb, exhortation, metaphor, and poetry that has anything to do with sexual relations presupposes such a prerequisite. Even the male-dominated society of ancient Israel imaged itself as Yahweh’s wife so as to avoid any connotation of a marriage between members of the same sex (an image replicated in the New Testament as regards Christ and his bride, the church). There are plenty of laws in the Old Testament delimiting acceptable and unacceptable sexual relationships between a man and a woman but not between two persons of the same sex. The obvious reason: No homosexual relationships were deemed acceptable.

Those who contend that the Bible condemns homosexual practice only in ‘a handful of passages’ at best (Sodom, the prohibitions in Lev. 18:22 and 20:13, Rom. 1:26-27, 1 Cor. 6:9, and 1 Tim. 1:10) usually neglect a number of other relevant texts: the Genesis creation narratives; the Noah and Ham story; the narrative of the Levite at Gibeah; the texts from Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History dealing with cultic figures known to play the female role in sex with men (the qedeshim); the interpretation of the Sodom story in Ezekiel, Jude, and 2 Peter; and Jesus’ discussion of marriage in Mark 10 and Matthew 19.

More importantly, they overlook the problem with equating frequency of explicit mention with importance. Bestiality is mentioned even less in the Bible than homosexual practice and incest gets only comparable treatment, yet who would be so foolish as to argue that Jews and Christians in antiquity would have regarded sex with an animal or sex with one’s mother as inconsequential offences? Infrequency of mention is often an indicator that the matter in question is foundational rather than insignificant. You don’t have to talk a lot about something that most everyone agrees with and that few persons, if any, violate. Scripture’s male-female prerequisite for sexual relations and its attendant rejection of homosexual behaviour is pervasive throughout both Testaments (i.e. it is everywhere presumed in sexual discussions even when not explicitly mentioned); it is absolute (i.e. no exceptions are ever given, unlike even incest and polyamory); it is strongly proscribed (i.e. every mention of it in Scripture indicates that it is regarded as a foundational violation of sexual ethics); and it is countercultural (i.e. we know of no other culture in the ancient Near East or Greco-Roman Mediterranean basin more consistently and strongly opposed to homosexual practice).

It is also grounded in the creation texts in Genesis 1:27 and 2:21-24. In the latter, woman is portrayed as man’s missing element or other half, hence the repeated mention of woman being ‘taken from’ the human and being the human’s ‘complement’ or ‘counterpart’, a being both ‘corresponding to’ him as a human and ‘opposite to’ him as a distinct sex. Man and woman may become one flesh because out of one flesh man and woman emerged – a beautiful illustration of the transcendent point that man and woman are each other’s sexual counterpart. As noted in issue 1 above, Jesus treats the two-sexes requirement for sexual relations as foundational for his monogamy principle. And Paul cites homosexual practice as a particularly egregious instance of ‘sexual impurity,’ ‘indecency,’ and a ‘dishonouring’ of the integrity of maleness and femaleness, an egregious suppression of the obvious facts of God’s design evident in the material structures of creation comparable on the horizontal plane to idolatry on the vertical plane.

If all this doesn’t qualify the Bible’s male-female requirement for sexual relations as a core value in Scripture’s sexual ethics (the flipside of which is opposition to all homosexual practice), there is no such thing as a core value in any religious or philosophical tradition.

The post The Real Evidence about Scripture and Homosexual Practice appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

‘In 1955, Kevan gave the Tyndale Lecture at Tyndale House. His subject was ‘The Evangelical Doctrine of Law’. The following year this was published as a Tyndale Monograph. 1955 also saw him at Keswick to give the Bible Readings once again. This time his subject was ‘The Law of God in Christian Experience: A Study in Galatians’. These addresses appear to have made a deep impression on those attending the convention; the Keswick Week for 1955 speaking of ‘upward of 4,000 people, of all ages, listening intently to the closely reasoned studies of the Rev. E. F. Kevan.’¹

We have already seen an evidence of his interest in the subject of God’s law, and it was one to which he gave a great deal of thought and study. This was the theme of studies which later led to a Doctorate of Philosophy degree from London University. For this he chose to look at the subject historically from the teaching of the Puritans. Several of the tutors in the College studied for a doctorate at around this time. Both Dermot MacDonald and Donald Guthrie received their PhD before he did.

Kevan’s choice of subject for his Bible Readings at Keswick raises the question whether he believed there was a particular need at that time to remind evangelicals of the law of God.

There is some evidence to suggest that he did. ‘Antinomianism’ is the name given to the view that the law is not a guide for the life of the Christian. In the published version of his PhD thesis he wrote of ‘the dispensationalist Antinomianism of certain schools of orthodoxy’, and ‘the evangelical Antinomianism of holiness movements’.² People influenced by dispensationalism and holding to varieties of holiness teaching were very likely to be present at Keswick.

In his second address, entitled, ‘Wherefore then serveth the law?’ he quoted from an older writer of the horrifying shock that the novelist George Eliot felt at the following incident. A woman, an evangelical, had told a lie and was confronted with it. ‘“Ah well,” she replied, “I do not feel that I have grieved the Spirit much.”’ Such an attitude was appalling to Kevan, too. He went on in his  sermon to apply each of the ten commandments, in a sentence or two, very directly to his hearers. For example: ‘What about our evangelical cliché, “God willing”? Do you mean it, or is this another taking of the name of God in vain?’³

It is, however, very important to understand precisely how he understood the believer’s relation to the law. In his final address, ‘So fulfil the law of Christ’, he said:

It cannot be said too often that law-keeping can never be the means of sanctification, but it will certainly be the result… The new life of the believer, expressed in a new and active obedience, is itself freedom. ‘For freedom did Christ set us free.’ ‘Oh how I love Thy law,’ cries the Christian. Love now binds him in a manner that legalism never could; but this ‘bondage’ is liberty itself. Love obligates him to an obedience to the will of God from which he has no desire to be released, and this is perfect freedom. As the liberty of a railway train is that it should keep to the track, and to jump the rails would bring nothing but disaster, so the believer, constrained by the love of God will run in the way of his commandments (Psa. 119:32). The Christian now does as he likes, but he has such a new and powerful set of likes that he is held to his Lord and Master in mightier ways than ever he had been held in his slavery to sin. His spiritual freedom is such as the musician experiences when the scales and exercises have become easy, and work has turned to play. The rules are lost in the delight of musical satisfaction.⁴‘

The post Kevan at Keswick appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

THE PUBLISHED VERSION OF Dr Kevan’s thesis is a volume of just under three hundred pages. With its many quotations and footnotes it appears quite formidable. He goes into considerable detail and the reader is likely to concur with Francis Roberts, whom Kevan quotes, that the matter under discussion is ‘a knotty and difficult question, and learned men have rendered it the more intricate, by their cross disputes about it.’ Nevertheless it is an extremely valuable investigation of a vital subject. The issue is, in fact, of even greater importance in the present climate of opinion among evangelical Christians. The following is a very brief introduction, concentrating mainly on the positive teaching of the Puritans. In general one inverted comma indicates a quotation from Kevan, while two inverted commas introduce a quotation from a Puritan. I have, however, modernised the spelling, where necessary.

Kevan set out his purpose in this book in the following words: ‘The object of this work is to explore the Puritan teaching on the place which the Law of God must take in the life of a believer and to examine it for the contribution that it may make towards a true understanding of the Christian doctrine of sanctification.’ He says that among the Puritans: ‘one of the most keenly debated questions was whether the Law still possessed commanding authority over the believer. The majority of the Puritans answered this question affirmatively, and it may, not unreasonably, be claimed that the authority of Law as the principle of the life of the believer was central to the distinctively Puritan concept of Christian experience.’

At this point it needs to be said that both sides in the debate accepted that the moral law of God was expressed in the Ten Commandments. Kevan, therefore, does not seek to justify this understanding in the book. The whole question at that time was whether these commandments still had commanding force when a person became a believer or whether the believer was set free from obedience to them as the way for Christians to live. A modern treatment of the same issue would need to consider this preliminary question. However, though the relationship of the Ten Commandments to the moral law and the Christian is of great importance, whether the Christian is obligated to obey the will of God revealed in Scripture or not actually goes beyond that.

Kevan reviews the controversy as it took place throughout virtually the whole of the seventeenth century. In speaking of the books that he used he says: ‘In so far as the doctrine was a preached doctrine, and was one of immediate practical significance, only those writings which appeared in English, and for the guidance of the ordinary believer, are included’. This reminds us that the question was by no means a theoretical matter, nor simply a debate among theologians. The answers given directly impacted upon the congregation in the pew and shaped the lives of those who listened to the protagonists. Those who did not believe in the continuing authority of the Law over believers were known as ‘Antinomians’ (from the Greek, ‘against law’). Kevan speaks of the majority of Antinomians in this way: ‘The main object of the moderate Antinomians was to glorify Christ; but failing to understand the true relation between “law” and “grace”, they extolled the latter at the expense of the former. The issue raised by the Antinomians had its origin in the wide separation which they made between the Old and New Testaments… In some ways, it appears that the Antinomians brought themselves into difficulty by thinking of “Law” as if it were an entity to be done away, and of “Grace” as an entity taking its place.’ He acknowledges that many of them were ‘strict in their church discipline and virtuous in their personal conduct’ but adds this necessary caveat: ‘It cannot be denied, however, that many fanatical persons were found among the Antinomians.’ Moreover scholars and preachers whose own lives are unimpeachable may nevertheless present a message which leads to carelessness and disobedience on the part of those who listen to what they say.

Regrettably, the controversy led to some harsh and unfounded accusations, as all too frequently happens. ‘There were many irresponsible accusations of heresy, joined with colourful language. There was much point-scoring which did not materially advance the discussion.’ Both sides were guilty here. Thomas Edwards, for example, ‘charges the Antinomians with one hundred and seventy-six errors, ranging from denial of the Trinity to eating black-puddings’!

The place and purpose of the law

Behind the law is the One who gave it, God in his majesty. ‘God has the right to command, because He is the Source and End of all things. His sovereignty derives from the Creator-creature relation, and since man was made in the moral image of God “Moral obedience immediately becomes due, from such a creature to his Maker”.’ The law of God was written on man’s heart from the very beginning and since the fall all human beings have a conscience which bears witness to their continuing sense of moral obligation.

Kevan points out that: ‘It is one of the brighter aspects of the doctrinal outlook of the Puritans that they regarded the Law, not as burdensome in its original purpose, but as the essence of man’s delight… they were not aware of any extravagance when they affirmed that obedience to the Law of Nature was Adam’s highest joy and good. They held that the Law was designed for the true well-being of man; it was his “way of life”, and constituted his real liberty.’ In the words of Richard Baxter: “God commands us a course of duty or right action to this end, that we may be happy in his love… His very law is a gift and a great benefit. Duty is the means to keep his first gifts and to receive more. The very doing of the duty is a receiving of the reward; the object of duty being felicitating… Holiness is happiness, in a large part.”

To the Puritans the Law was ‘nothing less than the very transcript of the glory of God… Man has been made in God’s image, and so the moral Law written within him must be part of that very image itself… God could not be thought of as requiring from man anything less than that which accorded with the Divine character… The moral Law in man is a copy of the Divine nature, and what God wills in the moral Law is so “consonant to that eternal justice and goodness in himself”, that any supposed abrogation of that Law would mean that God would “deny his own justice and goodness”. “To find fault with the Law, were to find fault with God”, for “the original draft is in God himself”.’

The law, however, is not simply concerned with external behaviour; it is spiritual in its demands. This means that ‘unless… the heart be right, the endeavour to obey God’s Law is nothing more than a display of legalism. The words “before me” in the First Commandment indicate a worship that is “inward and spiritual before God”.’ This is crucial for the Puritan view. A believer has been set free from bondage to sin and now loves God in his heart and desires, out of gratitude and joy, to do all that pleases him.

This view of the law is fundamental to the Puritan – and to Kevan’s – contention that the law still stands as the way in which the believer should walk. What is right and good in God’s eyes does not change, nor does grace mean that the standard has been lowered or changed, the law is eternal. In the words of J. I. Packer: ‘To orthodox Calvinism, the law of God is the permanent, unchanging expression of God’s eternal and unchangeable holiness… God could not change this law, or set it aside, in His dealings with men, without denying Himself.’¹

‘No Moses now’

In Romans: Paul says that ‘Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth’. The Antinomians took this verse, and other similar verses such as Romans 6:14, ‘you are not under law but under grace’, to mean that the law was abrogated for believers, a view that could be summed up by the phrase used by John Saltmarsh, “no Moses now”! Kevan points out that though ‘the Antinomians made strong statements to the effect that the Law was abrogated… it is clear that, here and there, they qualified their assertions in ways that can be interpreted in a less unorthodox manner.’ He says, ‘They were most willing to concede the eternity of the matter of the Law, but they held that to serve God because of commandment to do so was legalistic and unspiritual.’ They tended to be confused in their arguments and to confound ‘the requirements of duty with the power to fulfil them’.

In general both the Antinomians and the Puritans held that Christ had fulfilled the law in two ways. Firstly, by what was termed his passive obedience he suffered death as the penalty of the law. Secondly, in his active obedience he obeyed his Father throughout his life, keeping the whole law perfectly and being in subjection to all that his Father willed for him. In Christ’s passive obedience the sins of his elect were imputed to him and he bore the wrath of God against them, consequently delivering his elect from condemnation. The majority of the Puritans, and certainly the Antinomians, also held that the active obedience of Christ, that is his righteousness, was imputed to the elect. In part it was this that led the Antinomians to teach that the law was abrogated so far as believers were concerned. The reasoning here would go like this. If Christ has kept the law for Christians and they are righteous in him, what need is there then for them to keep the law, but rather simply to be led by the Spirit in their living.

The Puritans, however, were insistent that all human beings are under an obligation to obey God and thus to keep his commandments. Says John Barret: “But I should think that believers as they are creatures, are bound to obey God in all things, and that Christ came not to take off the obligation to duty and obedience, but to take off the obligation to wrath and punishment.” Not only does obligation remain when people are converted but grace actually increases the sense of obligation. ‘Our freedom and deliverance from the rigour and curse of the Law, binds us strongly to the service of God. The liberty of the Christian man is not a freedom from the obedience of the Law, but from the disobedience of it; for “to be free from obedience, is to be servants of sin.”’

What the Antinomians so objected to, was the principle that ‘duties are to be done because commanded’. Kevan quotes one of the Puritans who says that it is the Christian’s “first virtue” when “we love, desire, and do any thing, especially because God commands” it. He continues: ‘Anything less than obedience because commanded is not holiness… The insistence on this truth carries the subject into the very

heart of the believer and into the citadel of his will. Only the heart that can say, “I delight to do thy will, O my God”, can be adjudged to be truly converted and godly.’ Duty and delight can belong together, and they do so in the life of the Christian.

‘The Antinomians had a great distaste for the use of the Law as a rule of life and held that the only rule for the believer was the impulse of the Spirit within him through the inclination of his own heart.’ Over against this the Puritans stressed the unity of Spirit and Word, the indwelling Spirit guides the believer through the Spirit-inspired written Word of God. Another bone of contention was the place of good works in assurance. ‘The Antinomians denied the evidential value of good works and regarded “all notes and signs of a Christian estate” as “legal and unlawful”. The believer must therefore obtain his assurance from the testimony of the Spirit who “gives such full and clear evidence” of his good estate that he has “no need to be tried by the fruits of sanctification”’. On the other hand the Puritans believed that obedience could have an evidential value. ‘Thomas Goodwin charmingly says that the believer’s graces and duties are “the daughters of faith”, who “may in time of need indeed nourish their mother.”’

Christian freedom and the law

The Puritans stressed that the law is written in the hearts of all the regenerate and this transforms the situation: ‘The heart within echoes and answers to the commandments without… An obedient heart is like a crystal glass with a light in the midst, which shines forth through every part thereof. So that royal law that is written upon his heart shines forth into every parcel of his life; his outward works do echo to a law within.’ There is nothing servile or legalistic about the believer’s obedience, he ‘is moved by a deep reverence for God, without any trace of a servile spirit, or of being driven to obedience “with terrors”. He keeps the Law, not “Legally” but “Evangelically”, and finds nothing irksome in any of the commandments.’

‘The Gospel… brings the spirit of power and life along with it; there goes a virtue together with the commands of the Gospel to strengthen the soul to obedience.’ The believer is united to Jesus Christ, so Walter Marshal says: “Another great mystery in the Way of Sanctification, is the glorious Manner of our Fellowship with Christ in receiving an holy Frame of Heart from him; it is by our being in Christ, and having Christ himself in us.” A Christian is indwelt by the Holy Spirit: ‘Samuel Slater says that the difference between Law-obedience and Gospel-obedience is that the former is attempted by natural abilities, but the latter is performed in the “strength of a renewing Spirit”.’

All this makes for a love for the law in the believer: ‘It is part of the reconciling work of Christ that believers are made “friends” with the Law, for “after Christ has made agreement betwixt us and the Law, we delight to walk in it for the love of Christ”.’ This means that obedience becomes spontaneous: ‘Love for God and His Law produces a new naturalness in obedience that amounts almost to spontaneity.’ ‘“Faith makes the soul active… to run in the way of Gods Commandments… and… it cannot run too fast.” Richard Sibbes says that a son does duties “out of nature” and like “water out of a spring”; they are not forced, but they have “a blessed freedom to all duties, an enlargement of heart to duties. God’s people are a voluntary people.”’

Conclusion

The Puritans held that Christian liberty freed the believer, not from the Law, but for the Law; so that although he is no longer under the Law, he is, nevertheless, still in the Law. This, they taught, was freedom itself. The Puritans believed that this freedom in the Law – a freedom dependent on the Law – was effected by the Holy Spirit who applied the saving merits of Christ’s death to the believer and then wrote the Law within his heart. Love for the Law thus gave power to keep it.

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Yet if we ask why God was moved to exercise his holiness and justice in such a manner, at such a cost, in the sacrifice of his own beloved Son for our sins, the answer is ‘God so loved the world.’ And it was love that led Jesus first to undertake his sufferings, and then to invite all men to enter into the love which his death proclaims. It is the Puritan Thomas Watson who quotes the words of Augustine, ‘The cross was a pulpit in which Christ preached his love to the world.’² On the same subject John Owen writes: ‘There is no property of the nature of God which he doth so eminently design to glorify in the death of Christ as his love.’³

This brings us inevitably to John 3:16, ‘God so loved the world …’ On this text Smeaton says: ‘These words of Christ plainly show that the biblical doctrine on this point is not duly exhibited unless love receives a special prominence. … If even justice were made paramount, the balance of truth would be destroyed.’⁴

But what is the love of God to which John 3:16 gives this prominence? Does it have reference to the elect only or to all men? Some have answered that its immediate purpose has to do with neither; because, they say, ‘the world’ here does not have numerical so much as ethical significance: it stands for ‘the evil, the darkness, the sinner.’⁵ God so loved those who are utterly contrary to himself that he gave his Son to die for them! As B. B. Warfield has written on the love of God in this text:

It is not that it is so great that it is able to extend over the whole of a big world: it is so great that it is able to prevail over the Holy God’s hatred and abhorrence of sin. For herein is love, that God could love the world—the world that lies in the evil one: that God who is all-holy and just and good, could so love this world that He gave His only begotten Son for it,—that He might not judge it, but that it might be saved.⁶

The same writer concludes: ‘The whole debate as to whether the love here celebrated distributes itself to each and every man that enters into the composition of the world, or terminates on the elect alone chosen out of the world, lies thus outside the immediate scope of the passage.’ But granting that the message of the cross is one of love to those who by nature are the enemies of God, we are still faced with the fact that the text provides no justification for limiting this love to elect sinners. For if the elect are the ‘world’ that God loves, why is it that only some out of that world (‘whosoever believes in him’) come to salvation? There is surely a distinction in the text between the larger number who are the objects of love and the smaller number who believe. It would be a strange reading of John 3:16 to make those who believe correspond exclusively with ‘the  world’ that God loves. Such a divine as John Calvin had no hesitation therefore in saying on John 3:16:

Although there is nothing in the world deserving of God’s favour, he nevertheless shows he is favourable to the whole lost world when he calls all without exception to faith in Christ, which is indeed an entry into life.⁷

If this is so, it is proof enough that there is a general proclamation of the love of God which comes to men in the preaching of the cross. Individuals everywhere may be directed, as Nicodemus was directed, to God’s love for the unworthy. We are by no means dependent on John 3:16 alone for this understanding. Surely the same truth shines throughout our Lord’s ministry. He, ‘the Friend of sinners,’ did not limit love to the disciples, nor yet to those whom he knew would become disciples. We read, ‘When he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion for them’ (Matt. 9:36). Moreover we find this tender compassion individualized: of the rich young ruler, who turned away from Christ in unbelief, we are explicitly told, ‘Jesus, looking at him, loved him’ (Mark 10:21). What but that same love can explain such words as, ‘You will not come unto me that you might have life’ (John 5:40)? Or the tears that accompanied, ‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!’(Luke 13:34; Matt 23:37)? ‘Love towards all mankind in general,’ John Owen wrote, is enforced upon us by the example of Christ’s ‘own love and goodness, which are extended unto all.’⁸ And Owen encouraged his hearers to dwell on the ‘love of Christ, in his invitations of sinners to come unto him that they may be saved.’⁹

Elsewhere the same writer says: ‘There is nothing that at the last day will tend more immediately to the advancement of the glory of God, in the inexcusableness of them who obey not the gospel, than this, that terms of peace, in the blessed way of forgiveness, were freely tendered unto them.’¹⁰

Some have sought to escape from the force of Christ’s example by referring it to his human nature and not to his divine. But as R. L. Dabney comments: ‘It would impress the common Christian mind with a most painful feeling to be thus seemingly taught that holy humanity is more generous and tender than God.’¹¹

Christ’s example, that reveals the very character of God, remains the permanent standard for the church. The same love of which he spoke to Nicodemus, and which he showed to the multitude, lies in his command that ‘repentance unto remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem’ (Luke 24:47). And the apostles understood it when they preached indiscriminately to the Jerusalem sinners, who had rejected the Son of God, the astonishing news that God has sent Jesus ‘to bless you, in turning away every one of you from his iniquities’ (Acts 3:26).¹²

Universal gospel preaching is proof of the reality of universal divine love. It is the same love of which we read in Ezekiel 33:11: ‘As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die?’ When the Pharisees complained of Christ, ‘This man receives sinners, and eats with them,’ Jesus responded by speaking of the character of God: he is like the father of the prodigal son who ‘saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him’ (Luke 15:20).¹³ Christ’s unwillingness that men should be lost is the same as the Father’s. He desires that all men everywhere should turn and live. As John Murray has written:

There is a love of God which goes forth to lost men and is manifested in the manifold blessings which all men without distinction enjoy, a love in which non-elect persons areembraced, and a love which comes to its highest expression in the entreaties, overtures and demands of gospel proclamation.¹⁴

We conclude that the death of Christ is to be preached to all, and preached in the conviction that there is love for all. ‘In the gospel,’ said an eminent preacher of the Scottish Highlands, ‘the provision of God’s love for the salvation of sinners is revealed and offered…Faith is a believing God as speaking to me—a receiving of what is said as true, because it is the testimony of God, and receiving it as true in its bearing on my own case as a sinner because it is addressed by God to me.’¹⁵ Another Scots Calvinistic leader put it still more strongly in the words: ‘Men evangelized cannot go to hell but over the bowels of God’s great mercies. They must wade to it through the blood of Christ.’¹⁶

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“And as for the king of Judah, who sent you to inquire
of the Lord, so shall ye say unto him, Thus saith the
Lord God of Israel concerning the words which thou
hast heard, Because thine heart was tender, etc.”
– 2 Chron. 34:26–27

THESE words are a part of the message which the prophetess Huldah sent to good King Josiah; for as the message was concerning him and his people, so his answer from her is exact, both for himself and them. That part which concerned his people is set down in the three foregoing verses; that which belongs unto himself is contained in the words now read unto you, ‘But to the king of Judah, etc.’ The preface to her message we see strengthened with authority from God, ‘Thus saith the Lord God of Israel’; which words carry in them the greater force and power from the majesty of the author. For if words spoken from a king carry authority, how much more then the word of the Lord of hosts, the King of kings? Here is her wisdom, therefore, that she lays aside her own authority, and speaks in the name of the Lord.

We see that waters of the same colour have not the same nature and effect, for hot waters are of the same colour with plain ordinary waters, yet more effectual; so the words of a man coming from a man may seem at first to be the same with others, yet notwithstanding, the words of God, coming from the Spirit of God, carry a more wonderful excellency in them even to the hearts of kings. They bind kings, though they labour to shake them off. They are arrows to pierce their hearts; if not to save them, yet to damn them. Therefore she speaks to the king, ‘Thus saith the Lord God of Israel concerning the words which thou hast heard, etc.’

Here we read of Josiah, that he was a man of an upright heart, and one who did that which was right in the sight of the Lord; and answerably we find the Lord to deal with him. For he, desirous to know the issue of a fearful judgment threatened against him and his people, sendeth to Huldah, a prophetess of the Lord, to be certified therein; whereupon he receiveth a full and perfect answer of the Lord’s determination, both touching himself and his people, that they being forewarned might be forearmed; and by a timely conversion to the Lord, might procure the aversion¹ of so heavy wrath. He in uprightness sends to inquire, and the Lord returns him a full and upright answer. Whence we may learn,

Doctrine 1. That God doth graciously fit prophets for persons, and his word to a people that are upright in their hearts. Where there is a true desire to know the will of God, there God will give men sincere prophets that shall answer them exactly; not according to their own lusts, but for their good. Josiah was an holy man, who, out of a gracious disposition, desirous to be informed from God what should become of him and his people, sends to the prophetess Huldah. It was God’s mercy that he should have a Huldah, a Jeremiah, to send to; and it was God’s mercy that they should deal faithfully with him. This is God’s mercy to those that are true-hearted. He will give them teachers suitable to their desires; but those that are falsehearted shall have suitable teachers, who shall instruct them according to their lusts. If they be like Ahab, they shall have four hundred false prophets to teach falsehood, to please their lusts (1 Kings 22:6); but if they be Davids, they shall have Nathans. If they be Josiahs, they shall have Huldahs and Jeremiahs. Indeed, Herod may have a John Baptist (Mark 6:17–27); but what will he do with him in the end when he doth come to cross him in his sin? Then off goes his head.

Use. This should teach us to labour for sincerity, to have our hearts upright towards God; and then he will send us men of a direct and right spirit, that shall teach us according to his own heart. But if we be false-hearted, God will give us teachers that shall teach us, not according to his will, but to please our own. We shall light upon belly-gods and epicures, and shall fall into the hands of priests and Jesuits. Where such are, there are the judgments of God upon the people, because they do not desire to know the will of God in truth. We see (Ezek. 14:3, 4), the people desired to have a stumblingblock for their iniquity. They were naught², and would have idols. Therefore they desired stumblingblocks. They would have false prophets, that so they might go to hell with some authority. Well, saith God, they shall have stumblingblocks: for thus saith the Lord God of Israel, ‘To every man that setteth up his idols in his heart, and putteth the stumblingblock of his iniquity before his face, and cometh to the prophet to inquire; I the Lord will answer him that cometh, according to the multitude of his idols; according to his own false heart, and not according to good.’ What brought the greatest judgment upon the world, next to hell itself, I mean antichrist—the terriblest judgment of all, that hath drawn so many souls to hell—but the wickedness of the place and people, and his own ambition? The sins of the people gave life to him. They could not endure the word of God or plain dealing; they thought it a simple thing. They must have more sacrifices, more ceremonies, and a more glorious government. They would not be content with Christ’s government which he left them, but were weary of this. Therefore, he being gone to heaven, they must have a pope to go before them and lead them to hell. Therefore let men never excuse those sins, for certainly God saw a great deal of evil in them and therefore gave them up to the judgment of antichrist. But let us magnify God’s mercies that hath not so given us up. Thus we see how graciously God deals with a true-hearted king: he sends him a true answer of his message.

Verse 27, ‘Because thine heart was tender, etc.’ Now here comes a comfortable message to good Josiah, that he should be taken away and not see the miseries that should befall his people; the cause whereof is here set down, ‘Because thy heart was tender and thou didst humble thyself before God’; which cause is double.

1. Inward.
2. Outward.

1. The inward is the tenderness of his heart and humbling of himself. 2. And then, the outward expression of it is set down in a double act: (1.) Rending of clothes. (2.) Weeping.

‘Because thou hast rent thy clothes, and wept before me.’ After which comes the promise, ‘I have also heard thee,’ saith the Lord; ‘behold, I will gather thee to thy fathers, and thou shalt be put in thy grave in peace, and thine eyes shall not see all the evil which I will bring upon this place, and upon the inhabitants of the same.’

I will first remove one doubt, before I come to the tenderness of Josiah’s heart.

Quest. What! may some say, Is there anything in man that can cause God to do him good?

Ans. No. One thing is the cause of another, but all come from the first cause. So tenderness of heart may be some cause of removal of judgment; but God is the cause of both, or they all come from the first cause: which is God. So that these words do rather contain an order than a cause. For God hath set down this order in things, that where there is a broken heart there shall be a freedom from judgment; not that tenderness of heart deserves anything at God’s hand, as the papists gather, but because God hath decreed it so, that where tenderness of heart is, there mercy shall follow; as here there was a tender heart in Josiah, therefore mercy did follow. God’s promises are made conditionally; not that the condition on our part deserves anything at God’s hand, but when God hath given the condition, he gives the thing promised. So that this is an order which God hath set down, that where there is grace, mercy shall follow. For where God intends to do any good, he first works in them a gracious disposition: after which he looks upon his own work as upon a lovely object, and so doth give them other blessings. God crowns grace with grace.

By ‘heart’ is not meant the inward material and fleshy part of the body; but that spiritual part, the soul and affections thereof. In that it is said to be ‘tender’ or melting, it is a borrowed and metaphorical phrase. Now in a ‘ tender heart’ these three properties concur:

1. It is sensible³. 2. It is pliable. 3. It is yielding.

1. First, A tender heart is always a sensible heart. It hath life and therefore sense. There is no living creature but hath life, and sense to preserve that life. So a tender heart is sensible of any grievance, for tenderness doth presuppose life, because nothing that hath not life is tender. Some senses are not altogether necessary for the being of a living creature, as hearing and seeing; but sensibleness is needful to the being of every living creature. It is a sign of life in a Christian when he is sensible of inconveniences. Therefore God hath planted such affections in man, as may preserve the life of man, as fear and love. Fear is that which makes a man avoid many dangers. Therefore God hath given us fear to cause us make our peace with him in time, that we may be freed from inconveniences; yea, from that greatest of inconveniences, hell fire.

2, 3. Again, A tender heart is pliable and yielding. Now that is said to be yielding and pliable, which yields to the touch of anything that is put to it, and doth not stand out, as a stone that rebounds back when it is thrown against a wall. So that is said to be tender which hath life, and sense, and is pliable, as wax is yielding and pliable to the disposition of him that works it, and is apt to receive any impression that is applied to it. In a tender heart there is no resistance, but it yields presently to every truth, and hath a pliableness and a fitness to receive any impression, and to execute any performance; a fit temper indeed for a heart wrought on by the Spirit. God must first make us fit, and then use us to work. As a wheel must first be made round, and then turned round, so the head must be first altered, and then used in a renewed way. A tender heart, so soon as the word is spoken, yields to it. It quakes at threatenings, obeys precepts, melts at promises, and the promises sweeten the heart. In all duties concerning God, and all offices of love to men, a tender heart is thus qualified. But hardness of heart is quite opposite. For, as things dead and insensible, it will not yield to the touch, but returns back whatsoever is cast upon it. Such a heart may be broken in pieces, but it will not receive any impression; as a stone may be broken, but will not be pliable, but rebound back again. A hard heart is indeed like wax to the devil, but like a stone to God or goodness. It is not yielding, but resists and repels all that is good; and therefore compared in the Scripture to the adamant stone. Sometimes it is called a frozen heart, because it is unpliable to anything. You may break it in pieces, but it is unframeable for any service, for any impression; it will not be wrought upon. But on the contrary, a melting and tender heart is sensible, yielding, and fit for any service both to God and man. Thus we see plainly what a tender heart is. The point from hence is,

Doct. 2. That it is a supernatural disposition of a true child of God to have a tender, soft, and a melting heart. I say that a disposition of a true child of God and the frame of soul of such an one, to be tender, apprehensive, and serviceable, is a supernatural disposition; and of necessity it must be so, because naturally the heart is of another temper—a stony heart. All by nature have stony hearts in respect of spiritual goodness. There may be a tenderness in regard of natural things; but in regard of grace, the heart is stony, and beats back all that is put to it. Say what you will to a hard heart, it will never yield. A hammer will do no good to a stone. It may break it in pieces, but not draw it to any form. So to a stony heart, all the threatenings in the world will do no good. You may break it in pieces, but never work upon it. It must be the almighty power of God. There is nothing in the world so hard as the heart of man. The very creatures will yield obedience to God; as flies, and lice, to destroy Pharaoh; but Pharaoh himself was so hard-hearted, that after ten plagues he was ten times the more hardened (Exod. 10:27). Therefore, if a man have not a melting heart, he is diverted from his proper object; because God hath placed affections in us, to be raised presently upon suitable objects. When any object is offered in the word of God, if our hearts were not corrupted, we would have correspondent affections. At judgments we would tremble, at the word of threatenings quake, at promises we would with faith believe, and at mercies be comforted; at directions we would be pliable and yielding. But by nature our hearts are hard. God, may threaten, and promise, and direct, and yet we insensible all the while. Well, all Josiahs, and all that are gracious, of necessity must have soft hearts. Therefore I will show you,

1. How a tender heart is wrought.
2. How it may be preserved and maintained.
3. How it may be discerned from the contrary.

Buy Josiah’s Reformation (Paperback, 176 pages, £5.00).

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After a cracking day at the Evangelical Library in London on “Reading John Owen” (opening, it has to be said, with Nigel Graham giving what may be one of the finest popular introductions to the life of Owen that it has been my privilege to hear – lively, careful, engaging, insightful), I want to do more reading and re-reading of John Owen. I was reminded, by my own efforts and those of others, why I do and may and must enjoy the privilege of reading such profound theology.

One of the works that piqued my fancy afresh was Owen on The Grace and Duty of Being Spiritually-Minded (volume 7 of the collected works, beginning on pg. 262). This was in Robert Strivens’ section of the works, and what prompted me to turn there again was the warning that preachers, accustomed to handling and speaking God’s Word, can develop a facade of spirituality which masks a spiritual dryness. Conscious that one can do much apparent working for God without much genuine walking with God, I thought it would be good to dip again into this work.

Re-reading can be as fascinating as reading. I am sometimes struck by what struck me the first time, or what failed to strike. The passage of time and the expansion of experience makes one wish, perhaps, that one could be as freshly excited as one was before, and one must learn to be more deeply excited than one was. Or, perhaps, some things have simply become more relevant because of the reader’s different circumstances while reading. On this occasion, I was struck by something in the preface to the work.

Owen, as you may know, had been unwell before preaching and preparing this material. He was so sick that not only was he unable to serve others, but he feared he might be taken by death and never able to serve again. Under such circumstances, he began to meditate on the grace and duty of spiritual-mindedness from Romans 8.6, where the apostle says that “to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.” Later, Owen took the fruit of his sickbed meditations and turned them into sermons. “And this I did,” he says,

partly out of a sense of the advantage I had received myself by being conversant in them, and partly from an apprehension that the duties directed and pressed unto in the whole discourse wore seasonable, from all sorts of present circumstances, to be declared and urged on the minds and consciences of professors: for, leaving others unto the choice of their own methods and designs, I acknowledge that those are the two things whereby I regulate my work in the whole course of my ministry. (7:263)

I am, I confess, sometimes amused by the homiletical handbooks that pass for pastoral theology in our day. Some of the guidance given for the preparation of sermons seems entirely out of touch with the life of local churches. I am amused when I hear the big cheeses of the evangelical world assure congregations that they prepare their sermons, or perhaps know what they will be preaching on on any given Sunday, a year or so in advance. As the pastor of a small congregation, preaching and teaching several times a week, that seems to me to be ludicrous, even dangerous. I do not think I could do that even if I were in circumstances that seemed to allow it.

Please do not misunderstand me. I am not suggesting that pastors preach on a whim or without a plan. I am not against systematic, sequential expository preaching. But I do wonder how much even Owen’s aside might teach us here. This work of his springs from what I would call a topical expository series. But how did Owen come to it? And why did he choose to preach it?

He has those two answers: first, because it did much good to his own soul when he had considered it for himself; and, second, because he perceived that the same truths which had helped him would, with the blessing of God, prove a timely and profitable study for other believers under his care.

However, he goes on to confess that those two principles are the “things whereby I regulate my work in the whole course of my ministry.” That, in itself, is fascinating. Here is the great theologian and the profound scholar, sitting down as a pastor of God’s people, and asking, first and foremost, what has blessed me, and will it bless others also?

If you are a preacher and teacher, however far you are willing and able to plan ahead, do such considerations have a place in your own preparation? Are you so soaking in God’s truth that you can assess what has been of particular blessing to your own soul? Are you so attuned to and concerned for the saints that you can discern what would prove particularly timely and profitable for them? Are you visiting the congregation regularly and getting to know their lives and their needs so as to be able to make such a judgment? Are you prayerfully thinking of the particular congregation before whom you will stand, converted and unconverted, more and less mature, more or less wounded and wearied, more or less hale and hearty? Are you willing to put in the effort to invest in such ministry? Are you willing to get off the treadmill of your regular or scheduled course of exposition, perhaps to plough fields that would otherwise have remained unbroken, to invest in hours of composition that you had not scheduled into your work patterns? Are you improving your own studies and sufferings to this end?

Such an approach might require that you prepare far in advance a particular course of systematic and sequential exposition, compelled by the fact that this book or section of Scripture will serve those to whom you preach. It might keep you from changing to other, apparently easier or more palatable portions of the Bible, held fast by a sense of responsibility. It might demand that you drop such a long course of sermons and preach for a few weeks on a particular portion of God’s Word. It might compel you to preach a single sermon on a single text. It might prompt you to develop what you thought was a one-off into a shorter or longer series. Again, it is no excuse for a pastor-preacher simply riding his hobby-horses to death. You will note that Owen does not manipulate his hearers by the claim that the Spirit imposed the duty upon him, though I do not think anyone can fail to see the hand of God at work in the matter. This is a man who is sensitive to the truth, sensitive to the operations of the Spirit of God, sensitive to the circumstances and needs of the saints, sensitive to the spirit of the age, sensitive to the demands of a particular place and people, and deeply concerned to be a means of blessing to those to whom he speaks.

This, I would suggest, is pastoral preaching of the highest order – ministry of God’s truth that flows from the heart of a true shepherd of souls, a man who has drunk deeply of the sweet waters of the gospel, and is persuaded from the depths of his being that others need to taste and see that the Lord is good, and to obtain the blessing designed for those who trust in him.

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Having made these remarks on the unity of God in its bearing on the mysterious subject of our present discussion, we now proceed to consider in the same connection the threefold plurality of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, by each of whom, according to the Scriptures, the attributes and prerogatives of divinity are alike possessed.

We cannot now attempt to set forth the scriptural grounds on which the equal divinity of these three ‘persons in the Godhead,’ as we are wont to call them, may be established. It must for the present suffice to say on this subject, that names and titles distinctive of God are in the same unqualified manner applied to them; that attributes which pertain to God alone, and works which God alone is able to accomplish, are severally ascribed to them without the least distinction; that the same divine worship is claimed for them and rendered to them; and that all the three are inseparably associated in the administration of the most solemn religious ordinances, as being alike the objects of confiding faith, supreme love, and reverent adoration to all believers.

But, as was formerly observed respecting the divine unity, so may we now observe respecting this divine plurality,— that it is not so much the fact of its existence, as the distinctive nature or mode of its existence, that we are now concerned with, our object being to determine whether it be of such a kind as may anyhow be reconciled with the oneness of the Godhead.

What, then, is the nature of this plurality? How is it constituted? Wherein does it consist? In what respect are these three, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, numerically distinct from one another? In what sense or on what ground can we speak of them as more than one? How are we to define or denote the distinction between them?

Perhaps it may be thought that the wisest course to be adopted in dealing with such questions as these is simply to return them upon those by whom they may be proposed. For certainly it would be alike hazardous and presumptuous to lay down any affirmative definition of the nature of the plurality in the Godhead. At the same time, when we find that others have attempted in various ways to solve this great mystery, we may without presumption negative their solutions of it, in so far as these appear to us to be inconsistent with the clear testimony of Holy Scripture.

1. One such solution which we may negative on scriptural grounds is that which represents the Son and the Holy Spirit as merely the first and most exalted of God’s creatures,— possessed, indeed, of a like nature with him who made them, but wholly distinct from him, and essentially dependent on him. This in reality is not so much a solution as an absolute negation of the fact to be explained. For it recognizes the Father alone as truly and properly divine, and sets itself in utter opposition to those scriptural testimonies by which the divinity of the Son and of the Holy Spirit may be conclusively established.

2. Another solution which may be negatived on scriptural grounds is that according to which the Father is represented as the only self-existent and independent Being; and the Scriptures are held to allude to him alone when they speak of ‘the one God,’ or of God by way of eminence; while the Son and the Holy Spirit, although of a like substance, are not believed to be of the same substance with the Father, and though existing with him from the beginning, are not regarded as self-existent, but as deriving their being and their attributes from him, and that, too, not by any necessity of nature, but by a sovereign exercise of the Father’s power and will.

This opinion we are warranted to set aside; for it evidently implies, that if the Father had so willed, the Son and the Holy Spirit might never have existed at all, or might not have possessed those attributes which distinguish them; and in this respect it is at variance with those statements of Holy Writ which speak of them as equal in power and glory with the Father. Besides, it is inconsistent with the unity of God, and with his exclusive claim to the worship and homage of his rational creatures; for it recognizes one supreme God and two subordinate gods that are not necessarily connected with him; ascribes to the latter the same divine attributes, with the single exception of self-existence, as to the former; and claims for them the same divine honours and prerogatives.

3. We are equally warranted to negative a third solution, according to which the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are merely three names given to one and the same divine Person, indicative of three several aspects in which he presents Himself, three several relations which he sustains to us, or three several offices or functions which he discharges. Thus, as our Creator he is ‘the Father,’ as our Redeemer he is ‘the Son,’ and as our Sanctifier he is ‘the Holy Spirit.’ This representation of the matter has certainly the advantage of strictly maintaining and clearly exhibiting the unity of God. But on scriptural grounds it is altogether indefensible. For in the New Testament we have evident indications of some farther distinction as subsisting between the sacred Three than any mere diversity of names assigned to the same Person, or of aspects presented, or of relations sustained, or of operations conducted by him, will account for. We there find the Father saying ‘thou’ to the Son, the Son saying ‘thou’ to the Father, and both the Father and the Son employing the pronouns ‘he’ and ‘him’ in reference to the Spirit. The Father is said to ‘give the Son,’ and to ‘send him into the world.’ The Son undertakes the Father’s work, and ‘comes to do, not his own will, but the will of the Father that sent him.’ The Son ‘was in the bosom of the Father,’ and ‘had glory with the Father before the world was,’ and while as yet there were no creatures in existence to whom any relations could be sustained by him. The Spirit, again, is spoken of as ‘another Comforter’ whom the Father is to give in compliance with the prayer of the Son. The Spirit ‘proceeds from the Father,’ and ‘testifies of the Son;’ and ‘through the Son we both [i.e., Jews and Gentiles] have access by one Spirit unto the Father.’ Now these and suchlike scriptural statements are utterly irreconcilable with the supposition that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are only three names for one and the same divine Person presenting Himself in different aspects or relations, or executing different offices or functions.

Besides, if this were all that is meant by the plurality in the Godhead, there seems to be no assignable reason for restricting a plurality of this description to a trinity. There ought, one should think, to be as many such distinctions as there are different modes of divine manifestation. And these are not only threefold, but manifold. God manifests Himself in one way as the Creator, in another way as the Preserver of his creatures, in a third as the Lawgiver and Moral Governor of the human race, in a fourth as the Redeemer, in a fifth as the Sanctifier, in a sixth as the Judge. Thus might it be easy to specify with respect to God a great number of distinctions of a relative or functional nature, which are just as capable of being clearly and sharply defined as those in consideration of which some would have us to distinguish him as exhibiting Himself in no other than the threefold capacities of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

On these grounds we hold ourselves warranted to deny that the plurality in the Godhead can be resolved into a mere plurality of aspects, offices, relations, or modes of action. And it is with the view simply of negativing this erroneous opinion that Trinitarians are accustomed to speak of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit as ‘persons’ and not with the view of affirming anything in the way of precise and accurate description, respecting the nature of the distinction between the three. We use this expression, as I observed in a former lecture, in the way only of approximation or analogy, as the most convenient term which the poverty of language can supply to indicate the existence of real distinctions in the Godhead, without precisely defining wherein they exactly consist. And we are careful to accompany our use of it with a certification, that it is not to be understood in the same sense which it ordinarily bears when applied to human persons; and in particular, that it is not to be regarded as conveying any positive information (such as we freely admit we do not possess and therefore cannot convey) respecting the manner in which the divine plurality are metaphysically distinguishable from one another.

4. I need only further observe with reference to the question before us, that we are warranted to negative the supposition of Tritheism—that is to say, of three distinct and separate Gods. Although mention is made of this notion as having been entertained by one or two individuals, it has never been avowedly held by any considerable body of Christians. But, inasmuch as the charge of Tritheism has been pertinaciously advanced against Trinitarians by those who are opposed to them, it is necessary that we negative or disclaim it. And that we are warranted and bound to do so, on scriptural grounds, is undeniable. For if there be one truth more plainly declared in Scripture than another, it is the numerical unity of God. And therefore, whatever plurality may be implied in the ascription of divine attributes to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, it cannot be such as would constitute them three Gods.

The ancient Trinitarians sought to repel the charge of Tritheism by laying down two positions. The first was, that the Father is the fountain of Deity, from whom the Son and the Holy Spirit were eternally derived,—not as the Arians supposed, by an act of the Father’s will, but by an absolute necessity in the divine nature. Their second position was, that the three persons in the Godhead are necessarily and inseparably joined together, insomuch that the Father never existed without the Son and the Holy Spirit, and these were not separated from him when produced out of his substance. And in order to mark the indissoluble connection of all the three, they used a Greek word, περιχώρησις (perikhōrēsis), which they defined as meaning ‘that union by which one being exists in another, not only by a participation of its nature, but by the most intimate presence with it; so that, although the two beings are distinct, they dwell in and interpenetrate one another.’

It must be confessed that the principles thus enunciated are not very easily, if at all, to be apprehended. But this only proves, as Dr Hill has shrewdly observed, that ‘it is a vain attempt to apply the terms of human science to the manner of the divine existence; and that the multiplication of words upon such a subject does not in any degree increase the stock of our ideas.’ It is not necessary, however, to have recourse to any such subtleties in order to repel the imputation of Tritheism. All that is necessary is strictly to adhere to that negative course which we have hitherto adopted. For, so long as we do not hazard anything affirmatively, either with respect to the internal unity of the Godhead, or with respect to the distinctions that subsist in it, there is evidently no possibility of involving us in any collision or contrariety between the two. The precise nature of both would need to be much more specifically defined than we have either capacity or authority to define them, before it can be alleged that they are inconsistent with one another.

Thus have we endeavoured to give a negative answer to the question, What is the plurality in the Godhead? Or, to speak more correctly, we have negatived certain attempts to answer this question, which do not appear to us to be in accordance with the doctrine of Scripture. If it be here asked, ‘What have you to substitute in the room of those tentative solutions of the question which you would set aside? You have given us a sufficiency of negations as to this matter; but what have you now to state affirmatively respecting it?’—our answer is a very short and simple one,—that we have nothing. The Scriptures have not told us, positively or affirmatively, what is the precise nature of that plurality which they nevertheless reveal as subsisting in the Godhead. And where Scripture is silent, it becomes us to be silent also, lest, by intruding into things which are not revealed, we ‘darken counsel by words without knowledge.’ Thus much we may venture to say (speaking still in the way of negation), that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit cannot be three in the same sense in which they are one. But, as we before observed, it is perfectly conceivable that they should be three in one sense, and one in another. In what sense they are three, and in what sense they are one, the Scriptures have not affirmatively defined. And were we to attempt an affirmative definition of matters so far beyond the reach of human intellect, we should probably fall into the same or similar errors with those which we have endeavoured to expose.

Nor have we any reason to feel ashamed of our inability to give more than a negative answer to the proposed question. The fact is, that we are exactly in the same predicament with reference to many other things pertaining to God, of which, notwithstanding, we have the most assured conviction. Take, for example, his underived existence. There is nothing in the universe to which we can liken it; for all other beings have an origin or cause. It is only by negations that we can approach towards a conception of it. We can say what it is not—namely, that ‘it is not derived;’ but we cannot define what it is.—Or take his eternity. If asked to define it, we may say that there never was a time when he did not exist, and there never shall be a time when he will  not exist. But this too is only a negative definition. It is simply denying certain things concerning God, and then averring that, in respect of such denial, he is eternal.—Or take his unity. The only conceptions we can frame of it are indivisibility, simplicity, solitariness, and the like,—which amount to no more than a negation of divisibility, a negation of foreign, heterogeneous, or discordant elements, and a negation of the existence of other gods besides him. Thus there is nothing exceptional or unexampled in our inability to give a positive or affirmative definition of the plurality in the Godhead. For we labour under the same inability with reference to some of the most fully ascertained and most universally acknowledged attributes of the divine nature.

On the whole, then, it appears that the doctrine of the Trinity may truly be represented as a great mystery, in respect not only of the unsearchably profound and transcendental nature of the subject to which it relates, but also of the limited extent of the disclosures of it which God has been pleased to give us in his revealed word.

In regard to the threefold plurality in the Godhead, the Scriptures enable us negatively to define it, to the extent of saying that it is not a plurality either of three separate and equal Gods, or of one supreme and two subordinate Gods; and farther, that it is not a plurality of mere names, relations, offices, or modes of action. But anything like an affirmative definition of what it exactly is has not been supplied to us.

In regard to the unity of God, on the other hand, the Scriptures have left us in precisely the same position. In teaching us that ‘there is no God besides him,’ they merely negative the existence of all other gods, and decide nothing as to what the one only living and true God may in Himself be. And if their statements upon this subject can be viewed as referring at all to the oneness of God as an essential attribute of the divine nature, it is certain that they do not define it or explain it, so as to enable us positively to affirm anything as to what it really is, or wherein it exactly consists.

Such, then, being the position in which we stand in respect of the nature and extent of the information which Scripture has given us on this mysterious subject, you will readily see that by closely adhering to this position, and not venturing in the way of unauthorized conjectures to advance a single step beyond it, our doctrine is perfectly unassailable by those assertions which have frequently been brought against it, of its being in its very nature contradictory and incredible. It is above our reason. The Scriptures have not taught us, and we have no independent means of ascertaining, wherein consists either the divine unity or the divine plurality. And hence it is impossible for any man to show that they are incompatible with one another, or that it is against reason to affirm their coexistence. For what is it that is to be shown to be against reason? It is something we know not what,—something of the nature of which we are not able to form any definite conception. To a certain extent we can say what it is not, by negativing some attempted definitions of it, which do not accord with the teaching of Holy Scripture, our only source of information upon the subject. But we are quite unable to state affirmatively what it is. And so long as this is the case, we are evidently incompetent and unwarranted to pronounce any judgment in regard to it. It is above our reason, and on that very account our reason is incapacitated to deal with it to any effect whatsoever, and specially to the effect of proving that it is contrary to reason.

Let it not be thought that this negative position, which alone appears to be warrantable and defensible respecting the unity and plurality in the Godhead, has anything in common with that ‘negative theology’ which shrinks in all cases from definite opinions and articulate statements in matters of revealed doctrine. A negative position is certainly to be maintained in regard to ‘secret things’ which God has not disclosed to us. But whatever his word has positively affirmed, it is our clear duty broadly and distinctly to utter. We must not ‘shun to declare all the counsel of God,’ or give out any ‘uncertain sound’ respecting it. It is only where the Scriptures have revealed nothing affirmatively that it becomes us to withhold our affirmations, lest, by affecting a knowledge which we do not possess, we darken or pervert instead of faithfully expounding the truth.

Further reading:

‘The Mysteries of Christianity’: A Book Review – David Campbell

The post The Mystery of the Trinity – T. J. Crawford (2/2) appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God is one Lord.’

—Deut. 6:4.

‘Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them
in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost.’

—Matt. 28:19.

The observations I have made in five preceding lectures are, I trust, sufficient to establish the general position, that doctrines which have mystery connected with them are not to be regarded as incredible on that account, or as unworthy of a place in a revealed religion. It seems proper now to consider how far the arguments by which this general position is supported, are applicable to some of those essential articles of the Christian faith which have been commonly objected to on the ground of their mysteriousness. To these articles, indeed, we have had occasion to make incidental reference in our previous discussion. But they are worthy, by reason of their great importance, of a more particular consideration than they have yet received.

We begin with that great doctrine of Holy Scripture respecting the existence in the unity of the Godhead of a threefold plurality—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—in some respects distinct from one another, but all alike possessed of divine attributes and prerogatives.

The use of the word ‘Trinity’ to indicate this doctrine has been very much objected to by some persons, on the ground that it is not a scriptural expression. There seems to be no real force, however, in this objection. The word simply means ‘three in unity,’ and is therefore as suitable a word as could be thought of for expressing, in a brief and compendious manner, the truth which it is intended to denote. If this truth be either expressly set down in Scripture, or by good and necessary consequence deducible therefrom, in that case, the invention of a short and convenient term, albeit not a scriptural one, to give expression to it, is surely altogether reasonable and legitimate (provided the term be sufficiently definite and intelligible), and ought not, one should think, to give offence to any who are well affected to the truth which it conveys.

It is with this truth, however, and not with any expression of it in words of human invention, that we are now concerned—the truth, namely, that there is but one God, and yet that these three, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, are each of them possessed of the attributes and prerogatives of God.

It will not be alleged that the doctrine, as thus stated, is liable to any objection in point of phraseology, whatever exception may be taken to it in other respects. It consists of two propositions, which alike admit of being established by the clearest scriptural testimonies, and on which, in their relation to each other, we now humbly venture to make a few remarks.

Respecting the first of these two propositions, anyone who reflects on the prevalence of polytheism wherever the light of revelation has been withheld, will probably regard it as matter of serious question, whether the unity of God can be clearly ascertained and conclusively established by the unassisted powers of the human mind. There can be no doubt, however, that this doctrine, when revealed, is found to be entirely consistent with the dictates of our rational faculties, and receives from them a considerable measure of support and confirmation.

There is some plausibility even in those metaphysical arguments by which it has been attempted to show that the unity of God is an unavoidable inference from his necessary existence, his infinity, his eternity, his independence, and other high attributes essential to our conceptions of him; although it must be owned, the deductions of the human intellect cannot be very confidently relied on respecting matters so far transcending our comprehension. There seems to be still greater force in the consideration, that to suppose more than one God is altogether unnecessary, inasmuch as one Being possessed of divine attributes is sufficient to account for the origin of all other beings. And then, when we come to a survey of the divine works in all the varied departments of the universe, we find these pervaded by a unity of plan, a regularity of order, and an exactness of adaptation, which, if it does not amount to absolute proof, supplies at least the strongest presumptive evidence, that all are the productions of the same intelligent and designing agent.

It need scarcely be added, that the doctrine of the unity of God, while thus in full harmony with the dictates of enlightened reason, is one of the fundamental truths of revelation. When we read the Old Testament, we cannot fail to see that one main design of God in the calling of Abraham, in the establishment of the Mosaic law, and in his whole subsequent dealings with the race of Israel, was to preserve to Himself a peculiar people, devoted entirely and exclusively to his worship in the midst of prevailing idolatry and polytheism. And when we look into the New Testament, it is equally obvious that, to whatever other and more special purposes the Christian dispensation was meant to be conducive, its divine Author had certainly this object in view when commanding his disciples to preach the gospel among all nations, that men in every place should be instructed in the knowledge and worship of the one only living and true God.

It is not, however, the fact of the unity of God, so much as the nature or import of it, that we are now concerned with, in order to ascertain whether it be compatible with any such plurality in the Godhead as that which is implied in the doctrine of the Trinity.

I may observe, then, that there are two senses which ought to be carefully distinguished from each other, in which ‘unity’ may be ascribed to any object. An object may be said to be either ‘one in number’ or ‘one in nature.’ When we speak of it as being ‘one,’ we may refer to its numerical unity, or, in other words, to its solitariness or singularity— our purpose being, not to indicate any internal quality of the thing itself, but simply to exclude the existence, in addition to it, of any other things the same in kind. But, on the other hand, when we speak of an object as being ‘one,’ we may refer to its ‘unity of nature’—as, for example, to its symmetry, its congruity, its completeness, its entireness, its homogeneousness; our purpose being to indicate something that is characteristic of the internal constitution of the thing itself, without necessarily excluding the existence, exterior to it, of any supposable number of other things alike constituted.

Now there can be no doubt that in the former of these two senses unity is attributable to the Supreme Being. God is numerically one, exclusive of all other gods. The light of nature affords, if not a full proof, at least a very strong presumptive evidence, which the light of revelation has fully and expressly confirmed, that there is one only God, and none else. In this sense, however, the unity of God has no reference to any essential property of the divine nature. It is simply exclusive of the existence of other gods, without determining anything as to what the only true God may in Himself be. There is nothing in this numerical unity that is in any way incompatible with the distinctions of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in the Godhead. It merely amounts to this, that whatever God may be in respect of these internal distinctions, there is no other God besides him.

As regards the other use of the word ‘unity,’ to indicate some internal quality of an object, it seems impossible for us to assign any definite signification to the expression, when applied to the unsearchable nature of the Deity. We can understand what is implied in such ‘unity’ in the case of material, finite, and created objects. When attributed to these, it may be held as indicating some such properties as symmetry of form, simplicity of structure, congruity of purpose, connection and coherence of parts. But no such notions as these can be attached to it when used with respect to a purely spiritual being, and least of all with respect to such a spiritual Being as the self-existent, infinite, and eternal God. When we try to speculate metaphysically on the unity of God as one of his essential attributes, still more when we venture to affirm that this attribute so pertains to him as to exclude any such plurality in the Godhead as the scriptural doctrine of the Trinity must be held to imply,—we evidently seem to have gone beyond our depth, and to be assuming a farther knowledge of the divine nature or mode of subsistence than the human mind is capable of attaining. For aught that we know, there may be internal distinctions in the unsearchable essence of Deity which are in no respect incompatible with the divine unity. That the Godhead cannot be three in the same sense in which it is one, is indeed a self-evident proposition. But that it may be three in one respect and one in another respect is perfectly conceivable. And though it could be confidently affirmed that in no other spiritual being that we know of is there any such combination of unity with plurality, this would be no valid objection; because in God the combination may not arise from anything which created spirits are capable of having in common with him, but from something that is peculiar to Himself alone. It may be one of the unique and incommunicable properties of the Deity, which, like those equally incomprehensible attributes of self-existence, infinity, and eternity, distinguish the mode of his existence from that of all other beings in the universe.

But farther, as regards the statements of Holy Scripture concerning the divine unity, it is by no means clear that they have any reference whatsoever to unity as pertaining to the nature of God. They rather seem to have an exclusive reference to his numerical unity, as opposed to the ‘gods many and lords many’ whom the heathens worshipped. They are simply to be considered as negativing the existence of all other gods besides that one God who is revealed in his own word as the sole object of faith and homage. And they do not appear to express or imply anything as to what this only God may in himself be.

At all events, if these statements of Holy Scripture can be viewed as referring in any way to the oneness of God as an essential attribute of the divine nature, it is most certain that they do not define it or explain it so as to enable us to form any distinct conception of what it really is, or wherein it exactly consists; and hence we are evidently not in a position to affirm anything definitively with respect to it. Assuredly we are not in a position to decide that this undefined attribute ascribed in Scripture to the Deity, is inconsistent with any other peculiarity in the divine nature or mode of subsistence which Scripture may have revealed.

But this is not all. For in those Hebrew Scriptures in which the divine unity has been most frequently and emphatically declared, there is a remarkable peculiarity of expression often occurring, which seems to indicate a plurality in the Godhead. The usual Hebrew appellation of the Deity is ‘Elohim,’ which is constantly translated ‘God’ in our English version, but which is in reality the plural of the word ‘Eloah’ or ‘Elah,’ which also occurs, though much less frequently than in the plural form, and is similarly translated. This plural appellation is generally used in agreement with singular verbs, pronouns, and adjectives; but occasionally it is construed with verbs, pronouns, and adjectives in the plural number. And it is proper to remark that a like peculiarity of expression is found in some passages in which the name ‘Elohim’ is not employed. Thus the Psalmist says, ‘Israel shall rejoice in his maker;’ and Isaiah says of Israel, ‘thy maker is thine husband, the Lord of hosts is his name;’ in which passages the words translated ‘maker’ and ‘husband’ are in the plural number. Perhaps there is no passage in which this peculiar phraseology of the Hebrew Scriptures is more remarkable than in Deuteronomy 6:4, in which this declaration occurs,— ‘Hear, O Israel: Jehovah, our God [Elohim], is one Jehovah;’ the plural name ‘Elohim’ being used at the very time when it was the purpose of the inspired lawgiver pointedly and solemnly to affirm the unity of Jehovah. I may add that God is frequently represented in Scripture as speaking of Himself in the first person plural: as when it is written, ‘God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness’¹; ‘The Lord God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us;’ ‘Come, we will go down, and there we will confound their language.’ Some have indeed affirmed that God in these passages is to be considered as using the language of majesty, or expressing Himself after the manner of earthly potentates. It has been fully ascertained, however, by the most learned oriental critics, that the monarchical first person plural was not in use in ancient times and among Eastern nations. There is no instance of it to be met with in the Old Testament. The ordinary style of the kings of Egypt, Babylon, and Persia, when issuing their authoritative mandates is, on the contrary, the use of the singular number—as, for example: ‘See, I [Pharaoh] have set thee over all the land of Egypt;’ ‘I, Nebuchadnezzar, made a decree to bring in all the wise men of Babylon before me;’ ‘I, Darius, have made a decree; let it be done with speed.’ There is much plausibility, therefore, in the supposition that this and the other peculiar expressions before noticed as applied in the Hebrew Scriptures to the Almighty may be held as referring to that mysterious truth which the Scriptures of the New Testament have fully brought to light, of the existence of a plurality in the unity of the Godhead. At the very least we may venture to affirm, that these remarkable expressions would in all probability have been avoided, if it had been intended to ascribe to the divine nature such a unity as is absolutely exclusive of every modification of plurality.

Without insisting, however, on this argument, we may confidently fall back on our former position, respecting which there can be no dispute—namely, that the scriptural affirmations of the unity of God, if they have any reference at all to oneness as an essential attribute of the divine nature, do not define or explain this oneness so as to afford us any distinct conception of it; and hence that, being left in ignorance of what it really is, or wherein it exactly consists, we cannot be warranted to say that it is incompatible with any such plurality in the Godhead as is implied in the doctrine of the Trinity.

Further reading:

‘The Mysteries of Christianity’: A Book Review – David Campbell

The post The Mystery of God’s Oneness – T. J. Crawford (1/2) appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Before we can meditate on heavenly things, we must have right ideas of them. We are to ‘look at the things which are not seen’ (2 Cor. 4:18). Faith is the means by which we can receive heavenly things for we ‘walk by faith and not by sight.’ But faith cannot embrace heavenly things unless the mind has a right understanding of them. Faith only assents to and embraces what the mind puts to it. The greatest part of mankind deceive themselves with their own ideas of heavenly things, and so they feed faith on ashes. So when Paul bids us to ‘set our minds on things above,’ he goes on to say, ‘where Christ sits at the right hand of God’ (Col. 3:1, 2).

The general idea men have of heaven is that it is a place which is free of all those things which are destructive to human nature. In heaven, there will be no punishment, no sickness, no sorrow, no pain, and no death. This is indeed true (2 Thess. 1:7; Rev. 7:17; 21:4). But for those who are truly spiritually minded, heaven is the place where there is no more sin. Sin is the cause of all outward troubles and all burdens, sorrows, and distresses of the soul. To be delivered from the presence of sin, then, makes heaven so desirable to all true believers.

So, if we would have right ideas of heaven, we must think of it as a state in which we shall be eternally freed from the presence of sin. He that truly hates sin, whose chief desire and aim in life is to be freed from sin, who is burdened with memories of how many times sin has gained the victory, cannot but think much of that heaven in which he will for ever be freed from the presence of sin. This truth about heaven the mind can easily set its thoughts upon, and that to the great advantage and satisfaction of the soul.

Frequently thoughts and meditations on heaven as a state of freedom from sin, proves a man to be spiritually minded. A spiritually minded person finds sin a burden and a sorrow. He longs to be delivered from it and all its effects. No thoughts are more welcome to him than those of that state in which sin shall be no more.

Although men are troubled by their sins and desire to be freed from them, yet if they do not meditate much on heaven as the place where they shall be for ever freed from sin, I fear they are not as troubled with sin as they ought to be. Those who have no longing desires for that heavenly state when sin shall be no more,  prove that they are not spiritually minded.

But for sincere believers it is quite otherwise. What makes the remains of sin in them more grievous and burdensome is their awareness of the grace and love of God, of the blood of Christ shed to save them from their sins, of the purity and holiness of the good Spirit who has come to live in them to deliver them from the power of sin and to renew them into the image of God, and of the light, grace, and mercy which they have received through the promises of the gospel.

What breaks the hearts of those who are truly spiritually minded and makes them go mourning all day long is that there is something in them which God hates. The evidence that they are truly spiritually minded is that, together with spiritual watchfulness and daily mortification of sin, they also meditate much on that heavenly state when sin shall be no more.

So if you cannot think clearly about invisible things, dwell on this great truth, that in heaven you will be freed for ever from the presence of sin.

To be freed for ever from the presence of sin is a negative blessing of the heavenly state. We must now see what are the positive blessings that we can usefully set our minds on.

The positive blessings of heaven

Many have great ideas of what the positive blessings of heaven will be. But the majority of their thoughts come to nothing except that it will be a glorious place. But the unspiritual nature of men can never have any idea of the true spiritual glory of heaven, or what it is to enjoy God for ever. They imagine a heaven that does not exist in reality. So, because they cannot appreciate the true heaven, their imagined heaven does not exist, they never really think of heaven at all. Muslims see heaven as the place where their sensual lusts and pleasures are fully satisfied. This proves that their religion has no power to effectively change their hearts from the love of sin, for Muslims place their happiness in fulfilling the desires of the flesh.

Even true believers are mostly ignorant about the true nature of heaven and eternal glory. They have no clear idea of that heavenly state and so find it difficult to think of heaven.

Ancient philosophers taught that the blessedness of man in another world lay in the goodness and beauty of the divine nature. By the light of Scripture, they describe the attributes of God as the ‘beatific vision.’ By beatific vision, they mean all the ways by which God can and does communicate himself to the souls of  men. He heightens the intellectual capacities of men to receive these beatific communications. These communications give such an intellectual understanding of the divine nature and perfections as fills the soul with indescribable love, bringing it to the utmost rest and blessedness it can arrive at in this world.

Nevertheless, these intellectual ideas of God are beyond the mental capacities of ordinary Christians. But Scripture gives us another revelation of heaven and eternal glory which is much better suited to the faith and experience of all true believers and which alone can convey a true and useful understanding of heaven to finite minds.

The revelation which Scripture gives us of heaven is that what we have now received by faith, we shall one day see in eternal glory (2 Cor. 5:17). This great truth can easily be understood and meditated on by every believer.

The difference between our present and future state is that sight shall replace faith (1 John 3:2). Now if sight replaces faith, then what is seen must be the same as what we now believe (1 Cor. 13:9, 10, 12). Those things, which we now see darkly by faith, shall be seen clearly and perfectly in glory.

What is the chief present object of evangelical faith which will one day be seen in heaven? It is the revelation of the glory of the infinite wisdom, grace, love, kindness, and power of God in Christ. It is the revelation of the eternal counsels of God’s will and how they are accomplished to the eternal salvation of the church, in and by Christ. It is the glorious exaltation of Christ himself. All this we now receive by faith and so only see them darkly. But in heaven they shall be openly and fully displayed.

The infinite, incomprehensible excellences of the divine nature are not the immediate objects given to faith in Scripture and nor will they be seen directly by us in heaven. They are revealed to faith in and through Christ and so shall only be seen in heaven as they are revealed in and through him. Only through the revelations of the divine glories in Christ are we led to embrace these glorious excellences of the divine nature by faith, as we shall in heaven be led by love to cling to them with great delight. So as Christ is the chief object of faith here on earth, so also he will be the chief object of sight in heaven.

Therefore, think much of heaven as that state which will give you a perfect sight and understanding of the wisdom, love, and grace of God in Christ. To have the eternal glory of God in Christ with all the fruits of his wisdom and love perfectly revealed and made known to us in a divine and glorious light, our souls, being enabled to see and perfectly to understand them, is the heaven which, according to God’s promise, we are to eagerly anticipate.

But in order to enjoy the sight of this glory, a great change must be wrought in our souls. Grace which has been wrought in us must be brought to perfection.

What soul could joyfully look forward to going to heaven if he must lose all his present understanding, faith, and love of God, even though he is told that he will receive something more excellent, but something of which he has no experience and which he cannot understand while in this world?

When the saints enter into rest, their good works follow them. But how can their good works follow them if those graces which gave birth to them do not also follow them? The perfection of our present graces, which are now weak and easily hindered from bringing forth good works, will be a source of great wonder in heaven.

Faith will be gloriously perfected in sight. This does not destroy the nature of faith. It only means that faith no longer has to make invisible things real to the soul. A man has a weak, little faith in this world, with little evidence of being born again and with no assurance of salvation. He is full of doubts and questionings and has no comfort from what he believes. Now if, through grace, his faith rises to full assurance of the things he believes, filling him with joy and peace in believing, do we say that he now has a different kind of faith? No! His weak faith has been raised to a higher state of perfection. When Christ cured the blind man and gave him sight, at first he saw all things obscurely and imperfectly. He saw men ‘like trees walking.’ But when Christ put his hands on his eyes again and made him look up, his eyes were perfectly restored and ‘he saw everyone clearly’ (Mark 8:22-26). Christ did not give him another way of seeing, but only perfected that which at first was imperfect. Nor will our perfect vision of things in heaven be another kind of grace than the light of faith which we now have. What will happen is that what is now imperfect in faith will be done away, and faith will be perfected and enabled to see perfectly those things which we now see imperfectly.

Love also will be perfected. There is nothing that should excite us more to grow and increase in love to God in Christ than to realize that love will be the same for all eternity. But in heaven, our love to God in Christ will be perfect and glorious. The soul will, by love, be enabled to cleave to God unreservedly and unchangeably, and that with eternal delight and satisfaction.

Hope will be perfected in enjoyment. This is all the perfection hope is capable of. The perfection of our inward nature is part of our eternal blessedness. Nor can we be blessed without it. All heaven’s glories would not make us blessed and happy if our natures were not made perfect, freed from all depravity and weakness. It is grace alone that perfects our nature. Regeneration began the work of renewing the image of God in us, and the perfection of that image in us is the perfection of our natures. And we shall be kept eternally in that state of perfection by that perfect love, joy, and delight our souls shall have in cleaving to God. God will never tear himself away from us, and because we shall never be willing, we shall never be able, to tear ourselves away from him. This is that true heaven which those who are spiritually minded ought to fix their thoughts on. Like ignorant men who throw away rough diamonds because they do not know what a little polishing will do, so the unspiritual cast away rough, unwrought grace, not realizing what lustre and beauty the polishing of the heavenly hand will give to it.

It is generally thought that however men differ about religion here, yet they agree about heaven. They think that all want to go to the same heaven. But nothing could be more wrong. All do not want to go to the same heaven. How few value the heavenly state we have been describing! How many understand that eternal blessedness lies only in the enjoyment of this heaven? But it is this heaven, and no other, that we wish to enter. Others may have their own ideas of heaven invented by their own imaginations, which only lead men to grow more worldly and superstitious. But spiritual thoughts of the true heaven in which there is freedom from all sin, the perfection of all grace, the vision of the glory of God in Christ, and all excellencies of the divine nature as revealed in Christ will greatly strengthen and perfect our faith, hope, love, and all other spiritual graces in us.

The great test of spiritual-mindedness

Having arrived at right ideas about heaven, it is our duty to meditate much on these things. This is the great test of whether we are spiritually minded or not. If we are risen with Christ, we will set our mind on things above (cf. Col. 3:1). This is the way that we are changed more and more into the image of the glory of the Lord (2 Cor. 3:18). This is the great evidence that we have real treasure in heaven, for ‘where our treasure is, there will our hearts be also.’

This will prove that ‘we count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord’ (Phil. 3:8). This is the great evidence that a person has a heavenly character, fit to enjoy heavenly things as a true child of God. As yet it does not appear what we shall be, but we know that when Christ appears we shall be like him for we shall see him as he is. The truly spiritually minded person has this hope in him and meditates on this hope and so purifies himself as Christ is pure (cf. 1 John 3:2, 3).

But if we neglect this duty, then either we are not convinced of the truth and reality of these things, or we have no delight in them because we are not spiritually minded. Why are men so stupid? They all want to go to heaven. Nobody wants to go to hell. Most, like Balaam, would ‘die the death of the righteous’ and have their ‘latter end like his.’ Yet few make any effort to get right ideas of heaven, to see if the true heaven really would satisfy them and make them eternally happy. They are stupidly content with vague ideas of heaven or deceive themselves with their own ideas of heaven. But those who have been taught heavenly truths and who profess that their chief desires lie in these truths, yet who neglect to meditate on them, show that, whatever they claim to be, they are still earthly and carnal.

We must meditate on, and think of, the glory of heaven in comparison to the opposite state of death and eternal misery. Few care to think of, and meditate on, hell and the everlasting torments of the damned, especially those who are in most danger of going there. Some deny altogether the existence of hell. Others scoff at it as though a future judgment was but a fable. Some say that the goodness of Christ will not allow any to suffer in hell, even though they have learned more about hell from him than all the rest of Scripture. It is the height of folly for men to hide themselves for a few moments from that which is unavoidably coming upon them to eternity.

But I speak only of true believers. The more they think about the future state of eternal misery, the greater evidence they have for continuing and persevering in the life of faith. Remember that we were once ‘children of wrath.’ Remember that the wages of death we have deserved by our sins. Remember that Jesus has delivered us from ‘the wrath to come.’ In this way, we shall keep up a hatred of sin, which will enable us to walk in humility, continually praising divine mercy and grace. When we compare the state of blessedness and eternal glory, as the free gift of God’s grace in and through Jesus Christ, with that state of eternal misery which we deserve, if there is any spark of grace in us, we shall be stirred up to continual gratitude in our hearts. And I would encourage those who find the work of meditation on these things hard to make every effort to abide in spiritual thoughts. Let your mind rise toward them every hour, yes, a hundred times a day in all situations, under a continual sense of duty (cf. Rom. 8:23-26). Take care you do not go backwards and lose what you have won. If you neglect these thoughts for a while, you will quickly find yourselves neglected by them.

Buy the John Owen Puritan Paperback, Spiritual-Mindedness, here.

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The third exclamation of the conscious sin-bearer was the cry, “My God, My God! why hast Thou forsaken Me?” (Matt. 27:46.) It was like all His sayings, according to truth; and it becomes us carefully to investigate its import and significance. Though it does not fall within my present object to refer to the several sayings on the cross in their order, it is noteworthy, that when Christ had given utterance to certain sayings that had reference to others, when He had uttered the comforting promise to the penitent thief, and had prayed for His persecutors, and had commended His mother to the care of the beloved disciple, He next turned to God alone, as if He had now done with man. The remaining space was to be specially occupied with God alone, as if His work with men was now done.

No sooner were His mind and attention turned away from His relation to men around Him, than a striking phenomenon presented itself. Darkness all of a sudden enveloped the face of nature, and eternal death seemed to seize hold of Him. Whatever view may be given of that darkness, it doubtless stood connected with the chief figure in this whole scene, and with the mental state through which the substitute of sinners was now to pass; and it must plainly be held to be symbolical as well as miraculous. We have not, it is true, any authoritative explanation of its meaning in the Scripture. But as the inner darkness of Christ’s soul and that darkness on the face of the earth were simultaneous, no explanation has so much probability as that which regards the menacing gloom, as meant to intimate that our sin had separated between God and the surety, and that our iniquities had hid the Father’s face from Him (Isa. 59:2). That is every way a better explanation than the more current one, that it was meant to convey an impression of the divine displeasure for the indignity offered and the crime committed by the Jewish nation against the Christ. But however we interpret the meaning of this mysterious darkness, it certainly seems to have had one effect. Under the awe which it produced, there seems to have been diffused among the bystanders a death-stillness, which for the time freed the sufferer from the scoffs and mockery of the mad multitude, and left Him alone, and comparatively undistracted, with God. The silence was broken at last, after an interval, by these words of awful import, “My God, My God! why hast Thou forsaken Me?” What the Lord Jesus thus uttered was His actual experience; and as it was from the faithful witness, it was according to truth. He who was the light of the world was under the hiding of His Father’s face.

The inquiry into the causes of this peculiar mood of mind, substantially the same as in the two former exclamations, need not occupy our minds so long. The question is much more narrowed in this case; nor is there so much difference of opinion among divines and expositors. The words to which our Lord gave utterance are plainly a quotation from the 22rd Psalm, which is unquestionably Messianic, whether it had any immediate reference to the Psalmist or not. As to the interpretation, much depends on the question whether we take the word forsake in its full significance, or whether we tone down its meaning to the mere notion of “delay to help.” Some even of those who admit that the death of Christ was a propitiatory sacrifice, object to the interpretation that our Lord must be understood as uttering this language as an expression of real desertion, and in a moment of real desertion. And according to them, the words will only mean, “Why leavest Thou Me?” or, “Why delayest Thou to free Me from My suffering?” The word why is thus an expression of complaint, but involving a petition. In favour of this interpretation, it is argued that God is said “to forsake” one, or to be far from one, when He does not send help, and to “be near” when He delivers. Thus, according to this interpretation, there will be no particular emphasis on the word forsake. The whole import of the exclamation becomes flat and meaningless, according to this exposition. And the supporters of it, while they do not deny the atoning sacrifice of Christ, hold merely by one side of the truth, namely, that the Father surely loved the Son with unabated love, and could not withdraw His favour from His Son; nay, that the Son deserved it all the more when He was bringing His obedience through the deepest humiliation to its highest elevation. All that is true, and not to be questioned in any quarter.

But all this is one-sided, and argues much confusion of idea. It loses sight of the distinction, to which we have already alluded, between the personal and official capacity of our Lord; and it argues as if the supporters of the penal infliction of the divine wrath on Jesus as the sin-bearer also maintained the removal or withdrawal of the divine favour from Him in a personal point of view. That desertion undoubtedly involved the privation of the sweet sense of divine love and of the beatific vision of God, but no loss of the divine favour, and no withdrawal of the grace resulting from the personal union. It was not accompanied with a dissolution of the principle of joy, though it was accompanied with a suspension of the present experience of joy. It was for a time, not for ever. It was not attended with despair or doubt, but with the full confidence of faith, as is expressed in the words, “My God.” To sum up all in a few words: it was borne in our name, and not for Himself, in the capacity of the sin-bearer or surety, and not in that of the beloved Son. It was voluntary, and not enforced; by the imputation of our sin, and not for anything of His own. It was not because He had no power to remove it, but out of love to us. And in that desertion He encountered all the elements of eternal death, as far as they could fall on such a sufferer. It involved the removal not merely of the tokens of divine love, but the privation of God, or that loss of God, which is the very essence of the second death, awaiting the finally lost. Though this departure of God is accompanied, in the case of the sinner, with despair and with the worm of an evil conscience, it could be executed in a somewhat different way on our sinless Lord. But it must needs be executed, if He was to occupy the place of a real substitute and surety for sinful men.

The Lord asks why, with a force and significance which bring us to the margin of the inscrutable. It may be wiser to stand and adore than to grope our way into the meaning of this why. The language certainly does not mean that the cause of the desertion was unknown to Him as the conscious sin-bearer, who was passing through the flaming fire of the divine wrath for our salvation. But the inquiry, so put, seems to utter a desire that He may not be uninformed, but fully acquainted with the absolute necessity of all these pangs and agonies of desertion. He seems desirous to be assured subjectively, or convinced within His inmost soul, that all this must needs be so. He wishes to rest or anchor His mind in that conviction of its indispensable necessity; and He reminds His Father that it was all endured by a substitute for others, and for the glory of the Father.

The vicarious position of Christ during all these exclamations cannot, therefore, be doubtful to any one who has duly understood them. He bore (1) the soul-trouble, that His people might not bear it; (2) He drank the cup of the garden, that they might not drink it; (3) He was forsaken on the cross, that they might never know that desertion. He felt what sin is, and what it is to be severed from God, that we might never taste it; and He proclaimed with a loud voice the inconceivable agonies of that desertion, that He might convey to those who heard Him, or who should afterwards peruse His sufferings to the end of time, a due impression of the infinite weight of sin, and of the penal desertion it entails. As to the mental condition of the Son of God during this penal loss of God, and retribution for the sin which He made His own, it may be safely affirmed that He then experienced the essence of eternal death, or that sense of abandonment which will form the bitterest ingredient in the cup of the finally impenitent. This was the meaning of the sentence, “Thou shalt surely die.”

Had the second Adam been a mere man, there could have been no such vicarious work, because He would have been bound to full obedience on His own account, and that obedience could not have extended to others. But the second man, being the Son of God, rendered a vicarious obedience, and encountered a vicarious suffering, not necessary for Himself, and of infinite value. And, because of His divine person, the brief period of His agony was a fully adequate and perfect satisfaction for the sins of His people, from the infinite dignity and infinite merit of the sufferer.

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– Youth Conference

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First Objection. But many will be ready to object and say, We have much business upon our hands, and we cannot spare time for private prayer; we have so much to do in our shops, and in our warehouses, and in public with others, that we cannot spare time to wait upon the Lord in our closets.

Now to this objection I shall give these eight answers, so that this objection may never have a resurrection more in any of your hearts.

First, what are all those businesses that are upon your hands, to those businesses and weighty affairs that lay upon the hands of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David, Daniel, Elijah, Nehemiah, Peter, Cornelius¹? And yet you find all these worthies exercising themselves in private prayers. And the king is commanded every day to read some part of God’s word, notwithstanding all his great and weighty employments (Deut. 17:18–20). Now certainly, sirs, your great businesses are little more than zeros compared with theirs. And if there were any on earth that might have pleaded an exemption from private prayer, upon the account of business, of much business, of great business, these might have done it; but they were more honest and more noble than to neglect so choice a duty, upon the account of much business. These brave hearts made all their public employments stoop to private prayer; they would never suffer their public employments to tread private prayer underfoot. But,

Secondly, I answer, No men’s outward affairs did ever more prosper than theirs did, who devoted themselves to private prayer, notwithstanding their many and great worldly employments.

Witness the prosperity and outward flourishing estates of Moses, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Nehemiah, David, Daniel, and Cornelius. These were much with God in their closets, and God blessed their blessings to them (Gen. 22:17). How their cups overflowed! What signal favours did God heap upon them and theirs! No families have been so prospered, protected, and graced, as theirs who have maintained secret communion with God in a corner (1 Chron. 11:9). Private prayer best expedites our temporal affairs. He that prays well in his closet, shall be sure to speed well in his shop, or at his plough, or whatever else he turns his hand to (1 Tim. 4:8). It is true, Abimelech was rich as well as Abraham, and so was Laban rich as well as Jacob, and Saul was a king as well as David, and Julian was an emperor as well as Constantine; but it was only Abraham, Jacob, David, and Constantine, who had their blessings blessed unto them; all the rest had their blessings cursed unto them (Prov. 3:33; Mal. 2:2). They had many good things, but they had not ‘the good will of him that dwelt in the bush’ with what they had; and therefore all their mercies were but bitter-sweets unto them. Though all the sons of Jacob returned laden from Egypt with corn and money in their sacks, yet only Benjamin had the silver cup in the mouth of his sack. So though the men of the world have their corn and their money, etc., yet it is only God’s Benjamins that have the silver cup, the grace cup, the cup of blessing, as the apostle calls it, for their portion (1 Cor. 10:16). O sirs! as ever you would prosper and flourish in the world; as ever you would have your water turned into wine, your temporal mercies into spiritual benefits, be much with God in your closets. But,

Thirdly, I answer, it is ten to one but that the objector every day fools away, or fritters away, or idles away, or sins away, one hour in a day, and why then should he complain of a lack of time²?

There are none that toil and moil and busy themselves most in their worldly employments but do spend an hour or more in a day to little or no purpose, either in gazing about, or in dallying, or toying, or courting, or in telling of stories, or in busying themselves in other men’s matters, or in idle visits, or in smoking a pipe, etc.35 And why then should not these men redeem an hour’s time in a day for private prayer, out of that time which they usually spend so vainly and idly? Can you, notwithstanding all your great worldly employments, find an hour in the day to catch flies in, as Domitian the emperor did? and to play the fool in? and cannot you find an hour in the day to wait on God in your closets?

There were three special faults of which Cato professed himself to have seriously repented: one was travelling by water when he might have gone by land; another was trusting a secret in a woman’s bosom; but the main one was spending an hour unprofitably. This heathen will one day rise up in judgment against them who, notwithstanding their great employments, spend many hours in a week unprofitably, and yet cry out with the Duke of Alva ‘that they have so much to do on earth, that they have no time to look up to heaven’. It was a base and sordid spirit in King Sardanapalus, who spent much of his time amongst women in spinning and carding, which should have been spent in ruling and governing his kingdom. So it is a base, sordid spirit in any to spend any of their time in toying and trifling, and then to cry out that they have so much business to do in the world, that they have no time for closet prayer, they have no time to serve God, nor to save their own precious and immortal souls. But,

Fourthly, I answer, no man dares plead this objection before the Lord Jesus in the great day of account (Eccles. 11:9; Rom. 14:10; 2 Cor. 5:10). And why then should any man be so childish and foolish, so ignorant and impudent to plead that before men which is not pleadable before the judgment seat of Christ? O sirs! as you love your souls, and as you would be happy for ever, never put off your own consciences nor others’ with any pleas, arguments, or objections now, that you dare not own and stand by when you shall lie upon a dying bed, and when you shall appear before the whole court of heaven. In the great day of account, when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed, and God shall call men to a reckoning before angels, men, and devils, for the neglect of private prayer, all guilty persons will be found speechless: there will not be a man or woman found, that shall dare to stand up and say, ‘Lord, I would have waited upon you in my closet, but that I had so much business to do in the world that I had no time to enjoy secret communion with you in a corner.’ It is the greatest wisdom in the world, to plead nothing by way of excuse in this our day, that we dare not plead in the great day. But,

Fifthly, I answer, that it is our duty to redeem time from all our secular businesses for private prayer³. All sorts of Christians, whether bond or free, rich or poor, high or low, superiors or inferiors, are expressly charged by God to redeem time for prayer, for private prayer, as well as for other holy exercises: Col. 4:2, 3, ‘Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving; withal praying also for us, that God would open unto us a door of utterance, to speak the mystery of Christ, for which I am also in bonds.’

But here some may object and say, We have so much business to do in the world that we have no time for prayer. The apostle answers this objection in verse 5, ‘Walk in wisdom towards them that are without, redeeming the time.’ So Eph. 5:16, ‘Redeeming the time, because the days are evil’; ἐξαγοραζόμενοι τὸν χαιρόν, or buying out, or gaining the time. The words are a metaphor taken from merchants, who prefer the least profit that may be gained before their pleasures or delights, closely following their business whilst the markets are at best. A merchant when he comes to a mart or fair, takes the first season and opportunity of buying his commodities; he takes no risk in putting it off to the evening, or to the next morning, in the hope of getting a better bargain, but he makes the most of the present time, and buys before the market is over.

Others understand the words thus: ‘Purchase at any rate, all occasions and opportunities of doing good, that by doing so you may, in some way, redeem that precious jewel of time which you have formerly lost.’ Like travellers that have loitered by the way, or stayed long at their inn, when they find night coming upon them, they mend their pace, and go as many miles in an hour as they did before in many. Though time let slip is physically irrecoverable, yet in a moral consideration, it is accounted as regained, when men double their care, diligence, and endeavours to redeem it. The best Christian is he who is the greatest monopoliser of time for private prayer; who redeems time from his worldly occasions and his lawful comforts and recreations, to be with God in his closet. David having tasted of the sweetness, goodness, and graciousness of God, cannot keep his bed, but will borrow some time from his sleep, that he might take some turns in paradise, and pour out his soul in prayer and praises when no eye was open to see him, nor no ear open to hear him, but all were asleep round about him, Psa. 63:6; Psa. 119:62, ‘At midnight will I arise to give thanks unto thee.’ Verse 147, ‘I have prevented the dawning of the morning, and cried.’ David was up and at private prayer before daybreak. David was no sluggish Christian, no slothful Christian, no lazy Christian: he used to be in his closet when others were sleeping in their beds. So verse 148, ‘Mine eyes prevent the night-watches, that I might meditate in thy word.’ So Psa. 130:6, ‘My soul waiteth for the Lord, more than they that watch for the morning; I say, more than they that watch for the morning.’ Look, as the weary sentinel in a dark, cold, wet night, waits and peeps, and peeps and waits for the appearance of the morning; so David did wait and peep, and peep and wait for the first and fittest season to pour out his soul before God in a corner. David would never suffer his worldly business to jostle out holy exercises; he would often borrow time from the world for private prayer, but he would never borrow time from private prayer to bestow it upon the world.

John Bradford, the martyr, counted that hour lost in which he did not do some good, either with his pen, tongue, or purse.

Ignatius, when he heard a clock strike, used to say, ‘Now I have one more hour to answer for.’

So the primitive Christians would redeem some time from their sleep, that they might be with God in their closets, as Clemens observes. And I have read of the emperor Theodosius that after the variety of worldly employments relating to his civil affairs in the day time were over, he was wont to consecrate the greatest part of the night to the studying of the Scriptures and private prayer; to which purpose he had a lamp so cleverly made, that it supplied itself with oil, that so he might not be interrupted in his private retirements.

That time ought to be redeemed is a lesson that has been taught by the very heathens themselves. It was the saying of Pittacus, one of the seven wise men, ‘Know time, lose not a minute.’ And so Theophrastus used to say, ‘Time is of precious cost.’ And so Seneca: ‘Time is the only thing’, says he, ‘that we can innocently be covetous of; and yet there is nothing of which many are more lavishly and profusely prodigal.’ And Chrestus, a sophist of Byzantium in the time of Hadrian the emperor, was much given to wine; yet, he always counted time so precious, that when he had misspent his time all the day, he would redeem it at night.

When Titus Vespasian, who revenged Christ’s blood on Jerusalem, returned victor to Rome, remembering one night as he sat at supper with his friends, that he had done no good that day, he uttered this memorable and praiseworthy apophthegm, Amici, diem perdidi, ‘My friends, I have lost a day.’

Chilo, one of the seven sages, being asked what was the hardest thing in the world to be done, answered, ‘To use and employ a man’s time well.’ Cato held that an account must be given, not only of our labour, but also of our leisure. And Aelian gives this testimony of the Lacedaemonians, ‘that they were hugely covetous of their time, spending it all about necessary things, and suffering no citizen either to be idle or play.’ And, another says, ‘We trifle with that which is most precious, and throw away that which is our greatest interest to redeem.’

Certainly, these heathens will rise in judgment, not only against Domitian the Roman emperor, who spent much of his time in killing flies; nor only against Archimedes, who spent his time in drawing lines on the ground when Syracuse was taken; nor against Artaxerxes, who spent his time in making handles for knives; nor only against Sulaiman the great Turk, who spent his time in making notches of horn for bows; nor only against Eropas, a Macedonian king, who spent his time in making lanterns; nor only against Hyrcanus the king of Parthia who spent his time in catching moles; but also against many professors who, instead of redeeming precious time, do trifle and fool away much of their precious time at the glass, the comb, the lute, the viol, the pipe, or vain sports, and foolish pastimes, or by idle jestings, immoderate sleeping, and superfluous feasting, etc.

O sirs! Good hours, and blessed opportunities for closet prayer are merchandise of the highest value and price; and therefore, whosoever has a mind to be rich in grace, and to be high in glory, should buy up that merchandise, they should continually redeem precious time.

O sirs! we should redeem time for private prayer out of our eating time, our drinking time, our sleeping time, our buying time, our selling time, our sinning time, our sporting time, rather than neglect our closet communion with God, etc. But,

Sixthly, I answer, Closet prayer is either a duty or it is no duty. Now that it is a duty, I have so strongly proved, I suppose, that no man nor devil can fairly or honestly deny it to be a duty. And therefore, why do men cry out of their great business? Alas! duty must be done whatever business is left undone; duty must be done, or the man who neglects it will be undone for ever. It is a vain thing to complain of business, when a required duty is to be performed; and, indeed, if the bare objecting of business, of much business, were enough to excuse men from duty, I am afraid that there are but few duties of the gospel, but men would try to evade under a pretence of business, of much business. He who pretends business to evade private prayer, will be as ready to pretend business to evade family prayer; and he that pretends business to evade family prayer, will be as ready to pretend business to evade public prayer.

Well, sirs! remember what became of those that excused themselves out of heaven, by their carnal apologies, and secular businesses: Luke 14:16–24. ‘I have bought a piece of ground, and I must needs go and see it; I pray thee, have me excused,’ says one. ‘I have bought’, says another, ‘five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them; I pray thee, have me excused.’ And, ‘I have married a wife’, says another, ‘and therefore I cannot come.’ The true reason why they would not come to the supper that the King of kings had invited them to was, not because they had bought farms and oxen, but because their farms and oxen had bought them. The things of the world and their carnal relations had taken up so much room in their hearts and affections, that they had no stomach for heaven’s delicacies; and therefore it is observable what Christ adds at the end of the parable, ‘He that hateth not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also’, much more his farm and oxen, ‘he cannot be my disciple,’ verse 26. By these words, it is evident, that it was not simply the farm nor the oxen, nor the wife, but a foolish, inordinate, carnal love and esteem of these things, above better and greater blessings, that made them refuse the gracious invitation of Christ. They refused the grace and mercy of God offered in the gospel, under a pretence of worldly business; and God peremptorily concludes, that not one of them should taste of his supper.

And indeed what can be more just and righteous, than that they should never so much as taste of spiritual and eternal blessings, who prefer their earthly business before heaven’s dainties, prefer a country commodious for the feeding of their cattle, before an interest in the land of promise. Private prayer is a work of absolute necessity, both to the bringing of the heart into a good frame, and to the keeping of the heart in a good frame. It is of absolute necessity, both for the discovery of sin, and for the preventing of sin, and for the purging away of sin. It is of absolute necessity, both for the discovery of grace, and for a full exercise of grace, and for an eminent increase of grace. It is of absolute necessity to arm us, both against inward and outward temptations, afflictions, and sufferings. It is of absolute necessity to fit us for all other duties and services. For a man to glorify God, to save his own soul, and to further his own everlasting happiness, is a work of the greatest necessity. Now private prayer is such a work; and therefore why should any man plead business, great business, when a work of such absolute necessity is before him? If a man’s child or wife were dangerously sick, or wounded, or near to death, he would never plead, ‘I have business, I have a great deal of business to do, and therefore I cannot stay with my child, my wife; and I have no time to go or send for the physician’, etc. Oh no! but he would rather argue thus: ‘It is absolutely necessary that I should look after the preservation of the life of my child, my wife, and this I will attend whatever becomes of my business.’ O sirs! your souls are of greater concern to you than the lives of all the wives and children in the world; and therefore these must be attended to, these must be saved, whatever business is neglected. But,

Seventhly, I answer, That God did never appoint or design any man’s ordinary, particular calling to throw private prayer out of doors⁴.

That it is a great sin for any professing Christian to neglect his particular calling under any religious pretence is evident enough by these Scriptures – Exod. 20:9, ‘Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work’; 1 Cor. 7:20, ‘Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called’; 2 Thess. 3:10–12, ‘For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat. For we hear that there are some which walk among you disorderly, working not at all, but are busybodies. Now them that are such we command and exhort by our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietness they work, and eat their own bread’; 1 Thess. 4:11, 12, ‘And that ye study to be quiet, and to do your own business, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded you; that ye may walk honestly toward them that are without, and that ye may have lack of nothing’; Eph. 4:28, ‘But rather let him labour, working with his own hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth’; 1 Tim. 5:8, ‘But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.’ Yes, our Lord Jesus Christ was a plain, downright carpenter, and was worked hard in that particular calling till he entered upon the public ministry, as all the old writers do agree (Mark 6:3; Matt. 13:55, 56). And we read also that all the patriarchs had their particular callings. Abel was a keeper of sheep (Gen. 4:2); Noah was a husbandman (Gen. 5:29); the sons of Jacob were shepherds and keepers of cattle (Gen. 46:34), etc.; and all the apostles, before they were called to the work of the ministry, had their particular callings. By the law of Mohammed, the great Turk himself is bound to exercise some manual trade or occupation.

Solon made a law⁵, that the son should not be bound to relieve his father when old, unless he had set himself in his youth to some occupation. And at Athens, every man gave a yearly account to the magistrate by what trade or course of life he maintained himself, which, if he could not do, he was banished. And it is by all writers condemned as a very great vanity in Dionysius that he must be the best poet, and Caligula, that he must be the best orator; and in Nero, that he must be the best fiddler; and so became the three worst princes, by minding more other men’s business than their own particular calling.

But for a man to evade or neglect private prayer under pretence of his particular calling, is agreeable to no Scripture, but is contrary to very many Scriptures, as is evident by the many arguments formerly cited. Certainly no man’s calling is a calling away from God or godliness. It never entered into the heart of God that our particular callings should ever drive out of doors our general calling of Christianity. Look, as our general calling must not eat up our particular calling, so our particular calling must not eat up our general calling. Certainly our particular calling must give place to our general calling. Did not the woman of Samaria leave her water-pot, and run into the city, and say, ‘Come, see a man that told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ’ (John 4:28, 29)? Did not the shepherds leave their flocks in the field, and go to Bethlehem, and declare the good tidings of great joy that they had heard of the angel, viz. ‘That there was born that day, in the city of David, a Saviour, which was Christ the Lord’ (Luke 2:8–21)? And did not Christ commend Mary for that holy neglect of her particular calling, when she sat at his feet, and heard his word (Luke 10:38ff.)? And what do all these instances show, but that our particular callings must give the right hand to the general calling of Christianity? Certainly the works of our general calling are far more great and glorious, more eminent and excellent, more high and noble, than the works of our particular callings are; and therefore it is much more tolerable for our general calling to borrow time of our particular calling than it is for our particular calling to borrow time of our general calling. Certainly those men are very ignorant or very profane, that either think themselves so closely tied up to follow their particular callings six days in the week, as that they must not intermeddle with any religious services, or that think their particular callings to be a gulf or a grave designed by God to swallow up private prayer in. God, who is the Lord of time, has reserved some part of our time to himself every day. Though the Jews were commanded to labour six days of the week, yet they were commanded also to offer up morning and evening sacrifice daily (Deut. 6:6–8; Exod. 29:38, 39; Num. 28:3).

The Jews divided the day into three parts:
The first, to prayer;
The second, for the reading of the law;
And the third, for the works of their lawful callings.

As bad as the Jews were, yet they every day set a part of the day apart for religious exercises. Certainly they are worse than Jews that spend all their time about their particular callings, and shut closet prayer quite out of doors. Certainly that man’s soul is in a very ill case, who is so entangled with the encumbrances of the world, that he can spare no time for private prayer. If God be the Lord of your mercies, the Lord of your time, and the Lord of your soul, how can you, with any equity or honour, put off his service under a pretence of much business? That man is lost, that man is cursed, who can find time for anything, but none to meet with God in his closet. That man is doubtless upon the brink of ruin, whose worldly business eats up all thoughts of God, of Christ, of heaven, of eternity, of his soul, and of his soul concerns. But,

Eighthly, and lastly, I answer, the more worldly business lies upon your hand, the more need you have to keep close to your closet.

Much business lays a man open to many sins, and to many snares, and to many temptations. Now, the more sins, snares, and temptations a man’s business lays him open to, the more need that man has to be much in private prayer, that his soul may be kept pure from sin, and that his foot may not be taken in the devil’s trap, and that he may stand fast in the hour of temptation. Private prayer is so far from being a hindrance to a man’s business, that it is the way of ways to bring down a blessing from heaven upon a man’s business (Psa. 1:2, 3; 127:1, 2; 128:1, 2); as the first-fruits that God’s people gave to him brought down a blessing from heaven upon all the rest (Deut. 26:10, 11). Whet is no let⁶; prayer and provender never hinders a journey.

Private prayer can be likened to Jacob, who brought down a blessing from heaven upon all that Laban had (Gen. 30:27, 30). Private prayer gives a man a sanctified use, both of all his earthly comforts, and of all his earthly business; and this David and Daniel found by experience; and therefore it was not their great public employments that could take them off from their private duties. Time spent in heavenly employments, is no time lost from worldly business (Deut. 28:1–8).

Private prayer makes all we take in hand successful.  Closet prayer has made many rich, but it never made any man poor or beggarly in this world. No man on earth knows what may be the emergencies, or the occurrences of a day: Prov. 27:1, ‘Boast not thyself of tomorrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.’ Every day is, as it were, a heavily-pregnant day; every day is as it were with child of something, but what it will bring forth, whether a cross or a comfort, no man can tell; as when a woman is with child, no man can tell what kind of birth it will be.

No man knows what mercies a day may bring forth, no man knows what miseries a day may bring forth; no man knows what good a day may bring forth, no man knows what evil a day may bring forth; no man knows what afflictions a day may bring forth, no man knows what temptations a day may bring forth; no man knows what liberty a day may bring forth, no man knows what bonds a day may bring forth; no man knows what good success a day may bring forth, no man knows what bad success a day may bring forth; and therefore, a man had need be every day in his closet with God, that he may be prepared and fitted to entertain and improve all the occurrences, successes, and emergencies that may attend him in the course of his life. And let thus much suffice for answer to this first objection.

Buy Thomas Brooks, The Secret Key to Heaven: The Vital Importance of Private Prayer.

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It was like that with Jesus. Entrusted to him by God the Father was a work more demanding than any ever attempted in all of human history. The work of securing the forgiveness of our sins. The work of bringing us back to the God from whom our sin had separated us. The work of defeating Satan, delivering us from death, and winning for us eternal life. The work of banishing evil and renewing the whole fabric of creation. What a task! And Jesus was the one selected to do it.

This is Easter. What is Easter all about? It’s about Jesus finishing the all-important first part of this work – the part he had to do here on earth. It’s about Jesus doing and enduring all that was needed so that the good things planned for us could be ours. All the blessings listed above will be everlastingly enjoyed by those who receive him as their Lord and Saviour. And all because by his sufferings and death he brought the work he had been given to a triumphant close.

His work wasn’t easy to finish

You know how it is with ourselves. Finishing is sometimes the easy part. The hard part is getting started. Or getting through the early stages. Not with Jesus. For Jesus, finishing the work was by far the hardest part of all.

Consider what we might call the outer history. People subjected Jesus to one of the cruellest forms of capital punishment ever devised. They crucified him. It was a slow, a shameful, and an agonising way to die.

And then to the outer history add the inner history. There was more going on at Calvary than met the eye. Onlookers saw only the physical suffering. That in fact was the least of it. From a judicial standpoint Jesus was an innocent man. He had done nothing to deserve this awful death. But there was another side to it; a side known only to God. The guilt of countless sinners both from all across the world and from all across the ages had been laid upon him. He had voluntarily accepted it as his own and consented to be treated as if it were his own. Wasn’t that amazing? Jesus, the holy Son of God, made guilty with our guilt, dying our death, suffering in his own soul and body what we deserved to suffer in ours. And all so that we might be free of sin forever and enjoy instead the gift of eternal life.

His work had to be finished

Imagine you are moving house and the house you have bought needs a lot of work done to it. You get the keys a few weeks before moving day and you begin to work through the list. How nice if you could get all the work finished in advance! And it’s frustrating when you find that you can’t. But it doesn’t prevent you moving in, unpacking, and getting settled.

What about Jesus’ work? He had done a lot already. His work was literally a life-long work and he had been at it for over thirty years. So much had been accomplished through his teaching, his miracles, and the beautiful life of love and obedience he had lived. Was it really necessary for him to go as far as the cross – with all the suffering, visible and invisible, that that would involve? Could we not have had the Saviour we needed without the horrors of Good Friday?

It’s a question we hear Jesus answering himself. In one place, for example, referring to his death, he says this: “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (John Ch.3.14-15). The key word is must. He cannot stop short of the cross. Or here is something he said when the cross was at last behind him. It’s the day of his resurrection and he’s speaking to two disciples who are thoroughly perplexed at what has happened: “Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” (Luke 24.26). The key word now is necessary. Finishing the work by enduring the cross wasn’t an optional extra. It was an absolute necessity. There would be no restored relationship with God, no new hearts, no resurrection bodies, no new world ahead of us, had it not been for his suffering and death.

His work got finished

As Jesus was about to breathe his last he cried out, “It is finished” (John 19.30). He had gone through with it! The whole of what was needed in order to atone for our sins and open the way to heaven had been done. And we can be sure of it. That’s the message of Easter Sunday. Jesus’ resurrection from the dead (and the exaltation to heaven that followed) is the testimony of God to the completeness of his beloved Son’s accomplishment. The one who died for sin now lives to bless us with the fruits of his finished work.

Which brings us to the all-important question: how do we get the benefits of what Christ has done on behalf of sinners? We’ve heard the answer already. We must receive him as our Saviour and Lord. It is a terrible mistake to think that eternal life comes to us automatically – as if no response on our part was necessary. It is a terrible mistake, too, to imagine that the good things purchased for us we must somehow or other earn. No! There is certainly something required of us. But it’s not to work for our salvation. The work has already been done. Jesus has done it all. And the fruits of that work are freely given to all who welcome him.

Welcome him as your Saviour. You cannot save yourself. Say then to Jesus, “Come, and be to me the Saviour that I need”. From this day place all your reliance on him.

Welcome him, too, as your Lord. His rightful place in every life is that of king and lord. Cease, then, from your rebellion. Stop living the way you wish to live. Place yourself entirely in his hands – to direct you and change you. His golden promise is that none who do so will ever be turned away: “whoever comes to me I will never cast out” (John 6.37).

David Campbell is the minister at North Preston Evangelical Church and a Trustee of the Banner of Truth.

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The Holy Spirit has many names and titles. The word Spirit in Hebrew is ruach and in Greek it is pneuma. In both languages the words serve as the term for ‘wind.’ These words were used metaphorically to express many ideas (Eccles. 5:16; Mic. 2:11); any part or quarter of the compass (Jer. 52:23; Ezek. 5:12; 1 Chron. 9:24; Matt. 24:31); anything which is not material (Gen. 7:22; Psa. 135:17; Job 19:17; Luke 23:46); desires of the mind and soul (Gen. 45:27; Ezek. 13:3; Num. 14:24); angels (Psa. 104:4; 1 Kings 22:21, 22; Matt. 10:1). In Scripture, however, a clear distinction is made between these uses and the Spirit of God. While the Jews say he is the influential power of God and the Muslems say that he is an eminent angel, the name ‘Spirit’ refers to his nature or essence which is pure, spiritual, immaterial substance (John 4:24). He is the breath of the Lord (Psa. 33:6; 18:15; John 20:22; Gen. 2:7). He is called the Holy Spirit (Psa. 51:11; Isa. 63:10, 11; Rom. 1:4). He is the Spirit of God (Psa. 143:10; Neh. 9:20; Exod. 31:3; 35:31; 1 Cor. 12:6, 11; 2 Sam. 23:2 with 2 Pet. 1:21).  He is the Spirit of God and the Spirit of the Lord (Gen. 1:2; John 20:17). He is the Spirit of the Son, the Spirit of Christ (Gal. 4:6; 1 Pet. 1:11; Rom. 8:9). He proceeds from the Son and was promised by the Son (Acts 2:33).

The Trinity

The being and nature of God is the foundation of all true religion and holy religious worship in the world (Rom. 1:19- 21). The revelation that he gives us of himself is the standard of all true religious worship and obedience. God has revealed himself as three persons in one God (Matt. 28:19). Each person in the Godhead is distinct from the other two, and each has particular works attributed to him. The Father gives the Son. The Son comes and takes our nature, and both the Father and the Son send the Spirit. So the Holy Spirit is, in himself, a distinct, loving, powerful, intelligent, divine person, for none other could do what he does. He is one with the Father and the Son. Our Lord’s words at the institution of Christian baptism show us that it is our religious duty to own the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit in all our worship of God and in all our faith and obedience (cf. Matt. 28:19, 20).

The personal activity of the Holy Spirit

The appearance of the Holy Spirit under a visible sign suggests that he is a person (Matt. 3:16; Luke 3:22; John 1:32). He has personal attributes such as understanding and wisdom (1 Cor. 2:10-12; Isa. 40:28; Psa. 147:5; 2 Pet. 1:21; Rom. 11:33, 34; Isa. 40:13; Psa. 139:23; 1 Cor. 12:8; Isa. 11:2). He acts according to his own will (1 Cor. 12:11). He has power (Job 33:4; Isa. 11:2; Mic. 2:7; 3:8; Eph. 3:16). He teaches (Luke 12:12; John 14:26; 1 John 2:27). He calls to special work (Acts 13:2, 4) – an act of authority, choice and wisdom. He called Barnabas and Saul. He commanded them to be set apart. He sent them out. All this shows his authority and personality. He appointed men to positions of authority in the church (Acts 20:28). He was tempted (Acts 5:9). How can a quality, an accident, a power from God be tempted? Ananias lied to him (Acts 5:3). Peter tells Ananias that he had lied to God (Acts 5:4). The Holy Spirit can be resisted (Acts 7:51). He can be grieved (Eph. 4:30). He can be rebelled against, annoyed and blasphemed (Isa. 63:10; Matt. 12:31, 32). Clearly, the Holy Spirit is not merely a quality to be found in the divine nature. He is not simply an influence or power from God. He is not the working of God’s power in our sanctification. He is a holy, intelligent person.

The deity of the Holy Spirit

He is clearly called God (Acts 5:3, 4; Lev. 26:11, 12 with 2 Cor. 6:16; 1 Cor. 3:16, 17; Deut. 32:12 with Isa. 63:14; Psa. 78:17, 18 with Isa. 63:10, 11). Divine characteristics are attributed to him: eternity (Heb. 9:14); immensity (Psa. 139:7); omnipotence (Mic. 2:7; Isa. 40:28); foreknowledge (Acts 1:16); omniscience (1 Cor. 2:10, 11); sovereign authority over the church (Acts 13:2, 4; 20:28). He is the third person of the Godhead (Matt. 28:19; Rev. 1:4, 5).

Everything God does he does as the triune God. Each person of the Trinity is involved in every action of God. Yet at the same time each person has a special role to fulfil in that work. In this sense, creation is the special work of the Father, salvation is the special work of the Son, and the special work of the Holy Spirit is to bring salvation to sinners, enabling them to receive it. The Father begins, the Son upholds, and the Holy Spirit completes all things (Rom. 11:36; Col. 1:17; Heb. 1:3). Thus the Holy Spirit is active in everything God plans and does. We see this in creation.

The works of nature

God created all things out of nothing (Gen. 1:1). The Spirit of God ‘was hovering over the face of the waters’ (Gen. 1:2), ‘was hovering,’ as birds do over their nests. The Hebrew word ruach means the ‘wind’ of God. ‘Hovering’ signifies an easy, gentle movement like birds hovering over their nests (Deut. 32:11; Jer. 23:9). But there is no information in Genesis 1:1-2 about the creation of this wind. It can only be the Spirit of God and his work that is being described here.

The natural creation of man (Gen. 2:7)

The material used by God to create man was the ‘dust of the earth.’ The life-giving principle which made man a living soul was ‘the breath of God.’ The result of the union of the material with the breath of God, that which was spiritual, was that man became a living soul. Here the ‘breath’ of God is a vivid description of the Spirit. So God is seen in his glorious power and wisdom. He takes such humble material as dust and out of it creates a glorious creature. Man, being reminded that he is merely dust of the earth, is kept humble and dependent on the wisdom and goodness of God.

The moral creation of man (Gen. 1:26, 27; Eccles. 7:29)

It is not for nothing that God tells us that he breathed the spirit of life into man (Gen. 2:7; Job 33:4). It was the work of the Holy Spirit to give life to man by which man became a living soul, for the Holy Spirit is the breath of God. Man was given a mind and a soul in order that he might obey God and enjoy him, and there were three things necessary to fit man for life with God. He must be able to know the mind and will of God so that he may obey and please him. He must have a heart that gladly and freely loves God and his law, and he must be able to carry out perfectly all that God requires of him. All these are the works of the Spirit in man. And all these abilities were lost by sin. They can be restored only by the Holy Spirit’s work of regeneration.

Buy The Holy Spirit by John Owen (abridged Puritan Paperback).

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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.

The presentation of the gospel is a subject which is always important. It is always important because of the eternal consequences that depend upon our attitude towards the gospel. There is no need for me to argue that it is especially important at the present time, and for two reasons: because of the general apostasy, of the failure on the part of the churches to present the gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ in the way in which it should be presented; and because of the consequent godlessness and the sheer materialism which, increasingly, characterize the life of the people. It is a subject of urgent importance also because of the nature of the times through which we are passing. Life is always uncertain, but it is exceptionally uncertain today. We who are Christians should always weigh our words and be careful how we present the gospel; surely, that ought to be impressed upon us more definitely than ever before as we come into contact with men and women in the Services, who may lose their lives at any moment, and as we live daily in a world where bombs are dropped, and where death comes suddenly to people. So we are met to consider what I venture to affirm is the most important question that men can ever consider. And as we do so, we must be struck afresh by the remarkable way in which God has committed this all-important task of the presentation of the gospel to us. What a marvellous privilege it is, what a striking honour, that the Lord God Almighty should have entrusted this work of propagating and preaching the gospel to men like ourselves! It is a wonderful privilege, but, at the same time, it is a terrifying responsibility; it is a responsibility that devolves upon us all, and it devolves upon the leaders of the Crusaders’ Union in a very special manner. You are in contact with boys; your position as leaders of these young lives makes your work one of great seriousness.

This subject is so large and important that it is obviously impossible to deal with it adequately in one address. All I can do is select what I regard as some of the most important principles in connection with it; and I shall try to be as practical as I can. There are two main things I wish to emphasize: first, the positive principles which govern this work; and second, some of the dangers which are ever ready to threaten us as we engage in this ministry. We shall not only deal with this subject in general, but also in terms of work among boys. That is an important distinction, and one also, unless we are very careful, which we can turn into a very dangerous distinction. There has been a marked tendency in the last years or so to divide up Christian work according to age groups. I have never been very enthusiastic about these divisions into age groups – old age, middle age, youth, children, and so on. By that I mean that we must be careful that we do not modify the gospel to suit various age groups. There is no such thing as a special gospel for the young, a special gospel for the middle-aged, and a special gospel for the aged. There is only one gospel, and we must always be careful not to tamper and tinker with the gospel as a result of recognizing these age distinctions. At the same time, there is a difference in applying this one and only gospel to the different age groups; but it is a difference which has reference only to method and procedure.

The Nature of the Gospel

Now were I asked to speak on this subject in certain circles, my first business would be to attempt to define the nature of the gospel, and I would go on to ask, What is the gospel? In many circles people have gone astray; they have fallen into heresies; they preach a gospel that, to us, is no gospel at all. To such I would need to define the content of the gospel, but with you here that is unnecessary. I take it for granted that we are all agreed about the great fundamentals, the foundation principles of the Christian faith. What we are especially concerned about is the presentation of that gospel to the boys with whom we come into contact. There may be some of you who may ask, ‘Is it necessary that we should thus spend time in considering the presentation of the gospel? Is that not something that we can take for granted? If a man believes the gospel he is bound to present it in the right way. If a man is orthodox and believes the right things, his application of what he believes is something which will take care of itself.’ That, to me, is a very grave error; and anyone who is tempted to speak in that way ignores not only his own weakness, but, still more, the adversary of our souls, who is always attempting to frustrate the work of God.

This is a contention which I think I can prove in two ways. I am concerned to show you how you cannot take it for granted that a man who believes the right thing is of necessity one who can present that right thing in the right way. There are, for instance, men who are sound evangelicals in their belief and doctrine; they are perfectly orthodox in their faith, yet their work is utterly barren. They never get any results; they never hear of a convert as a result of their work and ministry. They are as sound as you are, yet their ministry leads to nothing. On the other hand – and this is my second proof – there are those who seem to get phenomenal results to their work and efforts. They take a campaign, or preach a sermon, and as a result, there are numbers of decisions for Christ, or what are called ‘conversions’. But many of these results do not last; they are not permanent; they are merely of a temporary or passing nature. What is the explanation of these two cases? It seems to me that the only explanation is that, somehow or other, there is a gap between what the man believes and what he actually presents in his teaching or preaching. The danger in regard to the first type is the danger of just talking about the gospel. This man believes the truth, he exults in it; but instead of preaching the gospel, he praises it, he says wonderful things about it. The whole time he is simply talking about the gospel instead of presenting the gospel. The result is, that though the man is highly orthodox and sound, his ministry shows no results whatsoever.

The danger in regard to the second man is the danger of being so interested in, and so concerned about the application of the gospel and with getting results that he allows a gap to come in between what he is presenting (and what he believes) and the actual obtaining of the results themselves. As I have said, it is not enough that you believe the truth; you must be careful to apply what you believe in the right way.

Methods of Study

There are two main ways in which we can study this subject of the presentation of the gospel. The first is to study the Bible itself, with special reference to the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles of the New Testament. That must always be put first if we would know how this work is to be done. We must go back to our textbook, which is the Bible. We must go back to the primitive pattern, to the norm, to the standard. In the Acts and in the Epistles we are told, once and for all, what the Christian church is, what she is like, and how she is to do her work. We must always make certain that our methods conform to the teaching of the New Testament.

The second method is a supplementary one; it is to make a study of the history of the Christian church subsequent to the New Testament times. We can concentrate especially on the history of revivals and the great spiritual awakenings; and we can read also the biographies of men who have been greatly honoured by God in the past in their presentation of the gospel. But here we must notice a principle of the greatest importance. When I say that it is a good thing to go back and read the history of the past and the biographies of great men whom God has used in the past, I hope that we are all clear in our minds that we need to go back beyond the last seventy years. I find so many good evangelicals who seem to be of the opinion that there was no real evangelistic work until about 1870. There are those who seem to think that evangelistic work in Great Britain was unknown until Moody came to this country. While we thank God for the glorious work of the last seventy years, I do plead with you to make a thorough study of the history of the church in the past. Go back to the eighteenth century. Go back to the time of the Puritans and even further back still, to the Protestant Reformation. And go back even beyond that, and study the history of those groups of evangelical people who lived on the Continent at the time when Roman Catholicism held supreme sway. Go right back to the time of the Early Fathers who held evangelical ideas. It is a history which can be traced back unbroken even to the primitive church itself. Such a study is of vital importance, lest we tend to assume, through taking a false view of history, that evangelistic work can only be done in a certain way, and by the application and the use of certain methods. I would commend to you a very thorough study of that great American divine, Jonathan Edwards. It was a great revelation to me to discover that a man who preached in the way he did could be honoured of God as he was, and could have such great results to his ministry. Jonathan Edwards was a great scholar and philosopher who wrote out every word of his sermons. He was very short sighted, and he used to stand in his pulpit with his manuscript in one hand, and a candle in the other hand, and as he read his sermon men were not only converted, but some of them literally fell to the ground under conviction of sin and the power of the Spirit. When we think of evangelistic work in terms of the popular evangelism of the last seventy years, I think we might be tempted to say that a man who preached like that could not possibly get conversions. Yet he was a man who was used of God in the Great Awakening on the American continent in the eighteenth century. So I would plead with you to be thorough in your study of church history and of the great things which God has done in various eras and periods. Those, therefore, are the two main lines along which we approach this subject – the study of the Bible and a study of the Christian church.

Having done that, we shall find that the following great foundation principles stand out very clearly as governing this whole subject.

I. The supreme object of this work is to glorify God. That is the central thing. That is the object that must control and override every other object. The first object of preaching the gospel is not to save souls; it is to glorify God. Nothing else, however good in itself, or however noble, must be allowed to usurp that first place.

2. The only power that can really do this work is the Holy Spirit. Whatever natural gifts a man may possess, whatever a man may be able to do as a result of his own natural propensities, the work of presenting the gospel and of leading to that supreme object of glorifying God in the salvation of men, is a work that can be done only by the Holy Spirit. You see that in the New Testament itself. Apart from the Spirit, we are told, we can do nothing. You read in the Bible of men attempting to do things in their own strength, but they fail completely. In the subsequent history of the Christian church you find men who cease to be the instruments of the Holy Spirit, and their ministry at once becomes barren. There was no change in their natural powers, proving, therefore, that the work is a work which ultimately can only be achieved by the Holy Spirit Himself.

3. The one and only medium through which the Holy Spirit works is the Word of God. That is something which I can prove quite easily. Take the sermon which was preached by Peter at Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost. What he did really was to expound the Scriptures. He did not get up and give an account of his own personal experiences. He unfolded the Scriptures; that was always his method. And that is also the characteristic method of Paul, that ‘he reasoned out of the Scriptures’ (Acts 17:2). When he dealt with the Philippian jailer you find that he preached unto him Jesus Christ and the Word of the Lord. You will remember his words in the First Letter to Timothy, where he says that it is the will of God that all men should be saved, and brought to a knowledge of the truth (I Tim. 2:4). The medium which is used by the Holy Spirit is the truth.

4. The fourth principle, therefore, is that the true urge to evangelization must come from apprehending these principles, and, therefore, from a zeal for the honour and glory of God and a love for the souls of men.

5. There is a constant danger of error and of heresy, even among the most sincere, and also the danger of a false zeal and the employment of unscriptural methods. There is nothing to which we are exhorted more frequently in the New Testament than the need for a constant self-examination and a return to the Scriptures themselves.

There, I think, you have five foundation principles which are taught very clearly in the Word of God, and which are confirmed abundantly in the subsequent history of the Christian church.

The Application of the Principles

This brings me to the second main division of our subject, which is the application of these principles to the actual work of the presentation of the gospel. This is a subject which divides itself up quite naturally into two main sections. There is first the work of evangelism, and then the work of edification and instruction in righteousness.

EVANGELISM AND ITS DANGERS

As we engage in evangelistic work, it is of vital importance that we ask ourselves before we begin: What am I out to do? What am I going to attempt? What do I want to achieve? What is my real objective? I suggest that there is only one true answer to these questions, and it is this: I am anxious that souls should be reconciled to God, because, being what they are, they are dishonouring God, and because, being in a state in which they dishonour God, they are in danger of perdition. That is the purpose of all evangelistic work – to bring those souls into a state of reconciliation with God. That is the object. It is not merely to get boys to make a decision; it is not simply to get them to live another way of life; it is not simply to get them to join a class or a church. Your object in presenting the gospel to them is to put them right with God.

Now there are very grave dangers that have arisen, and will arise, in connection with this work of evangelism. There is, first of all, the danger of exalting the decision as such, and this is a danger especially when you are working among the young. I have not time to enlarge upon it, though I must use the term – the psychological difference between children and adults. I think we all know enough about psychology to realize that children are very much more impressionable than older people. There is a sense in which it is true to say you can influence children to do almost anything you like. You know the claim of the Roman Catholics, who say, ‘Give us a child until he is seven, and we have got him for life.’ The danger of exalting decision as such expresses itself in a number of ways. It shows itself sometimes in the use of music. There are people who talk about singing, and the use of music – and especially of choruses – as something which they use to ‘work up a meeting’. They rely upon music and the singing of choruses to produce the desired effect of bringing about decision. Others, perhaps, tend to make use of stories, rather than music, in much the same way. There are those who have the gift of telling stories in a moving and effective manner. Others seem to put their reliance upon the personal charm of the speaker. For instance, a man was telling me about a friend of his who was doing some work among the troops, and he described him in this way: ‘He is doing a grand work. He is just the right type of man; he is so cheery and breezy.’ There is none of that kind of thing in the New Testament. Would Paul, for instance, be described as being a particularly cheery and breezy kind of man?

Perhaps I may be allowed to digress at this point. Have you ever observed that some of the most honoured servants of God in evangelism have been extremely ugly men? Let me commend that to you as a study. There is a danger of the evangelist relying upon the attractiveness of his own personality to produce results. Then there are some who try to develop what I can describe most accurately as the cricket-team spirit. They seem to produce an atmosphere which is comparable to that of a football or cricket team. They stand for the idea of being all in it together, of playing the game. That is something which, of course, appeals very much to boys, and something which of itself is quite harmless, and can be very useful. My point is that there is a danger at times of stressing it to such an extent that decisions are produced by that team spirit rather than by an understanding of the truth. But the most serious of all dangers is that of seeking to produce decisions as a result of pressure brought to bear upon the wills of those who are listening. There is the danger of a man so using his personality, his will power, and his capacity to domineer over others as to force those who are listening to respond to his appeal.

These are some of the results which follow this undue exaltation of the decision as such. I could illustrate what I have been saying at very great length. For instance, I have heard repeatedly of a certain popular evangelist, who has an amazing gift for telling stories; he is quite a genius in this respect. His word-pictures are such that you can see exactly what he is describing. This man tells his stories and he seems almost to mesmerize his congregation. At the close of the meeting he invites people to go to the decision room, and they go there in flocks. But those who work in the decision room are agreed in saying that when they ask them why they have come, their reply is that they do not know, but that the speaker told them to come. It is not that the truth has convinced or convicted them. They are influenced by the stories to which they have listened, and then they seem to act in an automatic manner. Music can produce the same effect. You can so sing a chorus that eventually you become intoxicated. The power of music is such that that is the effect it has upon some people; and, in reality, they do not know what they are doing; they iust respond mechanically to any command or invitation given to them.

The second danger is that people may arrive at a decision from a false motive. Sometimes people decide for Christ simply because they are anxious for someone else’s experience. Here again is a danger to which boys and young people are particularly exposed. In other words, I am trying to warn you against the danger of basing your message upon the effect of your own experience, or that of someone else. The boy who is listening to you may be anxious to be like you, to have what you have, or to be like someone of whom you have spoken, and to have what that someone else has got. While we think he is deciding for Christ he is simply coveting another’s experience. Or it may be a desire to have this wonderful type of life of which he has been told. The gospel of Jesus Christ does give us a very wonderful life, and we praise God for it, but the true reason for becoming a Christian is not that we may have a wonderful life; it is, rather, that we may be in a right relationship with God. Again, Christ is sometimes presented as a hero. The heroic instinct is prominent in all of us, and especially in boys. If we over-emphasize that aspect of the gospel, it may be that the boys, or even older people, may join our Bible class or church simply because the message has appealed to their heroic instinct.

There is also a danger of people coming to a decision, and this again is very true of boys, as a result of what is called accepting the challenge of the Christian life. They regard it as a great adventure, as something to which they must aspire, as setting out upon a great crusade.

And then the last danger which I want to emphasize under this heading is the terrible fallacy of presenting the gospel in terms of ‘Christ needs you’ and giving the impression that if a boy does not decide for Christ he is a cad. These are not artificial points that I have made. I am drawing not only on my own experience, but on those things which I have discovered in my reading, and from the problems one meets in the Christian ministry as a result of the use of false methods. There is a measure of truth and value in many of the things I have mentioned, but the point I want to emphasize is that none of these things, good as they may be in themselves, must ever be allowed to take the supreme position. I do not mean by this that you must not sing at all in your meetings. Of course we may sing, but let us not rely too much upon our singing. Let us use these things so far as they are legitimate, but let us always regard them as aids and helps, rather than the actual thing which produces the results.

Well, says someone, all that is negative. How do you suggest the work should be done? I reply again, we simply go back to those five principles to which I have referred, and they can all be summarized in this: we must present the truth; it must be a positive exposition of the teaching of the Word of God. First and foremost we must show men their condition by nature in the sight of God. We must bring them (and I include boys here) to see that apart from what we do, and apart from what we may have done, we are all born the ‘children of wrath’; we are born in a state of condemnation, guilty in the sight of God; we are ‘conceived in sin, and shapen in iniquity’ (Ps. 51:5). That is the first thing.

Having done that we must go on to show the enormity of sin. That does not just mean that we show the wrongfulness of certain sins. There is nothing so vital as the distinction between sin and sins. Far too often we spend our time in calling attention to particular sins, whereas our real business is to convict of sin, the thing itself which destroys us, and which shows itself in the form of particular sins. Then we must call upon our hearers to confess and acknowledge their sin in the sight of God and of men. After that we must go on to present the glorious and the wondrous offer of free salvation which is to be found only in Jesus Christ and in Him crucified. We must show that only He can remove the guilt and power of sin; that Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God, bore ‘our sins in his own body on the tree’ (1 Pet. 2:24), and that it is only as we yield and surrender ourselves entirely to Him that, at one and the same time, we are made right with God, and are enabled to live a life that is well-pleasing in His sight. The only decision which is of the slightest value is that which is based upon the realization of that truth. We may get men to decide as a result of our singing, as a result of the charm of our own personality, but our business is not to get personal followers. Our business is not simply to increase the size of Bible classes or organizations or churches. Our business is to reconcile souls unto God. I repeat that there is no value in a decision unless it is based on an acceptance of the truth.

EDIFICATION

My second subdivision in regard to the presentation of the gospel is the work of edification. This is a big subject and all I can do is simply to throw out certain principles. Nowhere is the danger of a false method more real than in this particular matter of edification, by which I mean teaching concerning sanctification and holiness. The danger is shown very clearly in the New Testament itself. You cannot read the New Testament without realizing at once that the early church bristled with problems and dangers and with incipient heresies. There were people, for instance, who said, ‘Let us continue  in sin that grace may abound.’ There were those who said that as long as you were a Christian it did not matter what you did, that as long as you were right in your beliefs, your body did not matter and you could sin as much as you liked. That is known as antinomianism. There were those who claimed that they were sinless. There were those who went in for ‘knowledge’, who claimed some special esoteric experience of which other, inferior Christians were ignorant. There were those who, the First Epistle to the Corinthians tells us, described themselves as the followers of Christ – some of Paul, others of Apollos, and others of Christ (1 Cor. 1:12) – the select few at the top. And there were those, clearly dealt with in the Epistle to the Colossians and 1 Timothy, who went in for some kind of asceticism forbidding people to marry or to eat meat. If you read the subsequent history of the Christian church you will find the same thing emphasized constantly. Take the monks, for instance, and the hermits, the people who said you could not really be a Christian while you were engaged in any ordinary vocation. And then various movements arose in the Christian church. The people who went in for those things were very earnest and quite honest; they all started by believing true doctrines, but they were subject to the danger of heresy and error, and wandered from the true path.

If I might summarize all these dangers, it is the danger of isolating a text or an idea and building up a system round it, instead of comparing Scripture with Scripture. It is the seeking of a short cut in the spiritual world. People attempt to arrive at sanctification in one move, and thus to forego the process described in the New Testament. The way to avoid that danger is to study the New Testament itself, and especially the Epistles. We must reject anything which is not based soundly upon the teaching of the Epistles. We must be very careful that we do not take an incident out of the Gospels, and weave a theory around it, when the incident which is described has not even the remotest connection with the subject of holiness or sanctification. We must realize that our standard in this particular matter is to be found in the Epistles. If you go to the Epistles I think you will find very clearly set out the principle that our life is not to be based upon some sudden experience, but rather upon certain deductions that we are to draw from the truth which we have believed. May I commend to your special study the word ‘therefore’ in the Epistles? It is a very important word. First of all the writer lays down the doctrine, and then he says, Therefore – in view of that, go on to do this. Our living of the Christian life must be a deduction from our doctrine.

What is the doctrine? Well, it is constantly repeated. The reason why we should live a holy and sanctified life is because of what we claim to believe concerning Christ, because God is holy, and because of the hope that is set before us. In other words, the New Testament does not invite us to live a holy and sanctified life in order that we might enjoy happiness; but it tells us to do so because Christ has offered Himself for us, and because He has shed His blood on Calvary. The New Testament tells us that we have been redeemed from our sins by the precious blood of Christ, and therefore we have no right to live a sinful life. It does not leave a gap between our believing on Christ as our Saviour and our receiving Him as our Lord: the two things are one. Sanctification of life arises directly out of the doctrine of the death of Christ on the cross. It teaches us that we are to grow in grace, and in the knowledge of the Lord. That is what we get in every single New Testament Epistle. There is constant exhortation to those early believers to apply, and to put into practice in their lives, the truth which they claim to have believed and accepted.

Let me summarize all that I have been trying to say to you thus. If you want to be able ministers of the gospel, if you want to present the truth in the right and only true way, you must be constant students of the Word of God, you must read it without ceasing. You must read all good books that will assist you to understand it, and the best commentaries you can find on the Bible. You must read what I would call biblical theology, the explanation of the great doctrines of the New Testament, so that you may come to understand them more and more clearly, and may therefore be able to present them with ever increasing clarity to those who come to listen to you. The work of the ministry does not consist merely in giving our own personal experience, or talking about our own lives or the lives of others, but in presenting the truth of God in as simple and clear a manner as possible. And the way to do that is to study the Word and anything and everything which aids us in that supreme task.

You may say to me: Who is sufficient for these things? We have other things to do; we are busy men. How can we do this which you have asked us to do? My reply is that none of us is sufficient for these things, but God can enable us to do them if we are really anxious thus to serve Him. I am not much impressed by these arguments that you are busy men, that you have much to do in the world and therefore have no time to read these books on the Bible and to study theology and for this good reason: that some of the best theologians I have met, some of the most saintly, some of the most learned men, have had to work very much harder than any of you, and at the same time have been denied the advantages that you have enjoyed. ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way.’ If you and I are concerned about lost souls, we must never plead that we have no time to equip ourselves for this great ministry; we must make the time. We must equip ourselves for the task, realizing the serious and terrible responsibility of the work. We must learn, and labour, and sweat, and pray in order that we may know the truth ever more and more perfectly. We must put into practice in our own lives the words to be found in 1 Timothy 4:12-16. God grant us the grace and the power to do so, to the honour and glory of His holy name.

Further Resources on Evangelism and Ministering to Children:

• J. I. Packer on Puritan Evangelism, Part 1 (Podcast Episode)
• A Godly Father’s Counsel to His Children (Podcast Episode)

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Nothing is more significant of the great change which has happened in the field of theology during the past twenty years than the place now afforded, and the attention given, to the great man of Geneva who is the subject of this address. Up to almost twenty years ago there was very little attention paid to John Calvin, and when someone spoke of him it was in order to heap insults on him scornfully. He was looked upon as a cruel, masterly, hard person. As for his work, it was said that he was the author of the most oppressive and iron-like theological system that had ever been seen. The main effects of his work in the field of religion, according to this belief, were to place and keep people in a state of spiritual bondage, and in a wider sphere, to open the way for capitalism. It was believed, therefore, that his influence was totally harmful and that he was of no apparent interest to the world apart from being a specimen, if not a monster, in the museum of theology and religion. But that is not the situation today. In fact, there is more mention of him than there has been for almost a century, and Calvin and Calvinism are the subjects of many an argument and debate in theological circles. Perhaps it is the theological revival that is connected with the name of Karl Barth, which chiefly accounts for this, if one looks at things outwardly. But one has to explain Barth and his standpoint also. What sent him back to Calvin? His own answer is that he could not find a satisfactory explanation of life, and especially of the problems of the twentieth century, anywhere else, nor an anchor for his soul and faith in the bitterness of the storm.

Whatever the explanation, the fact is that Calvinist societies have been formed in this country, in the United States and Canada, in Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa, apart from those that were formed in other countries in Europe before the war. Indeed, an International Calvinistic Congress was held in Edinburgh in 1938, and two similar conferences have been held in America during the war. As well as this, periodicals are published regularly to discuss topics and problems from the standpoint of Calvin’s teaching; and this year the textbook being studied in the theological classes at New College, Edinburgh is Institutes of the Christian Religion by John Calvin. It would please me a great deal if I were able to add that there was a similar movement in Wales. The time is ripe, therefore, for us to cast another glance at this man who has influenced the life of the world to such an extent.

What of the man himself? He was born at Noyon in Picardy in 1509. We know very little of his father and mother, except that his mother was renowned for her godliness. Calvin showed from the beginning that he had exceptional mental capacities. His parents were Roman Catholics, of course, and their natural intention was to prepare their clever son for an eminent career in the Church. His fields of study, therefore, were philosophy, theology, law, and literature. Although he excelled in every field, his favourite sphere was literature, and we see him at twenty-two in Paris as a humanist scholar, his main ambition in life being to earn a name for himself as a writer. He was such an exceptional student that he would often lecture to his fellow students in place of their teachers, and as for his life-style and conduct in those days, he was renowned for his sobriety. Indeed, he was so keen to emphasize the moral note that he won for himself the nickname ‘The Accusative Case’. But as with Luther before him, and John Wesley and many others after him, morality was not enough to quench his thirsty soul. When he was twenty-three years old he experienced an evangelical conversion and the course of his life was altogether changed. Having seen the evangelical truth, and having experienced its power in his soul, he turned his back on the Church of Rome and became a Protestant. We have no time to follow his life story, but we know that he spent almost the whole of the rest of his life in Geneva as a minister of the gospel. He worked there from 1536 until his death in 1564 with the exception of the period from 1538 to 1541 when the Genevan authorities drove him out, and he went into ‘exile’ in Strasburg.

Calvin was a thin man, of average height, with a high forehead and piercing eyes. His health was very fragile throughout his life because he suffered from asthma. It was extremely difficult to persuade him to eat or to sleep. Although he had a masterly spirit, the evidence of those who knew him best suggests that there has never been such a humble and holy man. His chief aim in life was to glorify God, and he devoted himself to doing that completely, without any mercy on his body or on his resources. He liked to think of himself as a Christian writer, and if he had followed his own inclination, he would have confined his work solely to this field; but a friend threatened him with God’s judgment if he did not undertake to preach, and the result was, according to the chief authority on his life, that he preached on average every day, and often twice a day, in Geneva for twenty-five years. Because of the asthma he spoke slowly, and one could not describe him as an eloquent speaker. We must not think of him, either, as a preacher who appealed only to the mind and the intellect. A certain godly tenderness would often break upon the meetings, so that the congregation would be quite overpowered.

The world remembers him not so much as a preacher, but as the author of fifty-nine thick volumes. He wrote thirty commentaries on the books of the Bible, including the whole New Testament except for the Second and Third Epistles of John and the book of Revelation. On top of this Calvin was a constant letter-writer and 4,000 of his letters have been published. He had endless opportunity also in an age so fond of debates to use his incomparable ability as a debater. There was no-one ever like him in the use of the ‘rapier’ and when one adds to this his special gift in logic, we find possibly the greatest ‘controversialist’ which the world has ever seen. When we remember that he was perpetually involved in contentions or consultations with the authorities in Geneva concerning the moral and social state of the city, we are not surprised that he died when he was only fifty-five years old. The mystery is how he managed to accomplish so much in so little time. No-one knows where he is buried, but his main contribution to theological literature, the Institutes of the Christian Religion, stands as a memorial to him. He wrote this when he was about twenty-five years old, and it was first published in Basle in 1536, but Calvin worked on it, adding to it and republishing it all through his life. This is undoubtedly his masterpiece. Indeed, one could say that no book has had such an influence on man and on the history of civilization. It is not too much to say either that it was the Institutes which saved the Protestant Reformation for this was the summa theologica of Protestantism and the clearest declaration which the evangelical faith has ever had. In the Institutes we see Calvin’s place in the Protestant Reformation. He belongs to the second wave of reformers. Luther had virtually finished his work before Calvin began. Luther was the ‘Morning Star’; in God’s hand, he began the movement. Luther is the great hero of Protestants; he is characterized especially by his originality and his audacity, and the dynamic element in his life. Luther was a volcano, spewing out fiery ideas in all directions without much pattern or system. But ideas cannot live and last without a body, and the great need of the Protestant movement in the last days of Luther was for a theologian with the ability to arrange and to express the new faith within a system. That person was Calvin. It can be said, therefore, that it was he who saved Protestantism by giving it a body of theology within his Institutes; and it is from this that the faith and theology of most of the Protestant churches has sprung. This was the backbone of the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Church of England and of the Westminster Confession, which regulates the belief of the Presbyterian churches in Scotland, the United States, and every other country. On the Institutes was based the faith of the Puritans, and the history of Switzerland and Holland cannot be explained except in this context.

Just a word about his doctrine. Calvin’s main feature is that he bases everything on the Bible. He does not have a mixture of Aristotle’s philosophy and the Scripture, with the first practically as important as the second, as in the Summa of Thomas Aquinas. The Bible for Calvin is the only authority, and he does not wish for any philosophy apart from that which emanates from the Scripture. It is in the Institutes that one gets biblical theology for the first time, rather than dogmatic theology. Calvin does not reason in an inductive way like the Roman Catholics, but rather he draws conclusions and works out in a deductive way that which is taught in the Bible. Revelation is not an addition to reason and one cannot reason properly outside of revelation.

For him the great central and all-important truth was the sovereignty of God and God’s glory. We must start here and everything else issues from here. It was God, of His own free will and according to His infinite wisdom, who created the world. But sin entered and if it were not for God’s grace, there would be no hope for the world. Man is a fallen creature, with his mind in a state of enmity towards God. He is totally unable to save himself and to reunite himself with God. Everyone would be lost if God had not elected some for salvation, and that unconditionally. It is only through Christ’s death that it is possible for these people to be saved, and they would not see or accept that salvation if God through His irresistible grace in the Holy Spirit had not opened their eyes and persuaded them (not forced them) to accept the offer. Even after that, it is God who sustains them and keeps them from falling. Their salvation, therefore, is sure, because it depends, not on them and their ability, but on God’s grace. The church is a collection of the elect. It is, therefore, free and there is no king over it except the Lord Jesus Christ, and, because of that, it claims complete and perfect spiritual freedom. As for the world outside the church, it would quickly be destroyed by sin if God through common grace did not keep it and set bounds on the effects of sin. The world is still God’s world, and even sin and Satan are, ultimately, under the control of God. Before the foundation of the world, God had His infinite purpose, and this purpose can be seen being worked out gradually, but surely, through the Old Testament, and especially in the life of Israel; but chiefly it is seen in Jesus Christ, what He did while on earth, and what He continues to do through the centuries. Nothing can hinder His purpose, and in the fullness of time the kingdoms of the world will become the property of our Lord and His Christ; and He will reign evermore. In the meantime we must teach men that this world is God’s world, that every gift which man possesses is a gift from God, that men are all one as sinners before God, and that no king, nor any other, has a right to tyrannize his fellow men. We must have order, we must have discipline. Man has a right to freedom, but not to free licence. That is the essence of Calvin’s teaching. He worked it out minutely to cover every aspect of life. During his ministry in Geneva he persuaded the authorities to put these ideas into action, and there was never a town like it. Mark Pattison does not exaggerate when he says: ‘He was the means of concentrating in that narrow corner a moral force which saved the Reformation and indeed Europe. It may be doubted if all history can furnish another instance of such a victory of moral force.’ It is no wonder that far-seeing men today, in a world such as this, turn back to the prophet of Geneva. What apart from the gospel he taught can save the world? And this is the teaching: ‘The Lord reigneth; let the people tremble’ (Ps. 99:1). ‘The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice’ (Ps. 97:1). Soli Deo Gloria.

A Further Note:

The republication by James Clarke in 1949 of Calvin’s foremost work carried the following cover blurb by Dr Lloyd-Jones: The announcement that Messrs James Clarke & Co. are about to issue a new edition of Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion is the best news I have heard for some time. That they are able to do so at the remarkably low price of thirty shillings, in these days, is astonishing. Someone may ask why a work like this, which was first issued over four hundred years ago should be reprinted and why anyone should read it. I would suggest the following answers as a minimum. The Institutes are in and of themselves a theological classic. No work has had a greater or a more formative influence on Protestant theology. It is not always realized, however, that in addition to its massive and sublime thought it is written in a style which is most moving, and at times thrilling. Unlike most modern theology, which claims to derive from it, it is deeply devotional. No book repays reading more than this, and especially so in the case of preachers of the Word. It is particularly appropriate that the new edition is appearing now. There has been a new interest in reformed theology during the past thirty years, and the name of Calvin is more frequently quoted than it has been for over half a century. It is in the Institutes that one finds the systematic and formulated statement of his essential position. It is imperative, therefore, that one should read the Institutes in order to understand much of the present-day theological discussion. The most urgent reason why all should read the Institutes, however, is to be found in the times in which we live. In a world which is shaking in its very foundations and which lacks any ultimate authority, nothing is so calculated to strengthen and to stabilize one’s soul as this magnificent exposition and outworking, of the glorious doctrine of the sovereignty of God. It was the ‘iron ration of the soul’ of the Reformation martyrs, of the Pilgrim Fathers, the Covenanters, and many others who have had to face persecution and death for Christ’s sake. Never was it more needed than today. Messrs James Clarke & Co. have placed us all greatly in their debt.

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‘The Lord gave the word; great was the company of those that published it’ (Psalm 68.11)

THE NEED FOR TRUTH

I would like to speak to you today about the importance of the use of liter­ature in the church, for evangelism, for instruction in Christian truth, for devotion, and for its role in planting churches.

Protestants, in particular, are very weak in the proper use of literature to spread God’s truth. We still do not remember the words of Daniel Webster who said:

‘If religious books are not widely circulated among the masses in this country, I do not know what is going to become of us as a nation. If truth be not diffused, error will be; if God and His Word are not known and received, the devil and his works will gain the ascendancy; if the evangelical volume does not reach every hamlet, the pages of a corrupt and licentious literature will; if the power of the Gospel is not felt throughout the length and breadth of the land, anarchy and misrule, degradation and misery, corruption and darkness, will reign without mitigation or end’.

In Isaiah 1:3, we read, ‘Israel doth not know, my people doth not con­sider’. Then, chapter after chapter in that prophecy we have a terrible picture of the life and practice of a people who were the professed people of God. Surely their sin and wickedness was the result of not ‘knowing’, and they did not know because they did not consider.

Books are to be used to dispel darkness and ignorance. If men do not know, then they must acquaint themselves with facts by reading and study­ing. We need to use books to fight ignorance – the ignorance of Christian truth and doctrine that is so prevalent in our churches today.

It is appalling to meet people who have been communicant church members for years and who cannot find a place in the Bible, who do not have even a vague idea of the great doctrines of the Bible, and who cannot attach any true meaning to such basic terms as justification, sanctification, regen­eration, election, and predestination.

Have we forgotten that Christianity is primarily a religion of facts – historical facts? The Bible is a body of divine information; and to be igno­rant of the information is to be ignorant of Christianity and to be ignorant of God.

Surely one of the reasons for the deadness and weakness of our churches is ignorance. We will not have churches that are strong and fruitful in experi­ence until we have Christians who are strong in biblical doctrine. Christian experience is nothing less than truth and its evidence revealed and applied by the Spirit to our minds, to our affections, and to our wills. Those who ‘do not the truth’ are those ‘in darkness’ (1 John 1.6).

THE POWER OF THE PRESS

The ministry of books can be used to evangelize, teach, train and expel ignorance as it has done in the past. A cursory glance at history should con­vince us that God has used books and literature to enlighten blinded peoples and nations.

How was it that in places where the voices of Luther and Calvin were never heard, their doctrines were embraced, and many of the countries of Europe threw off the yoke of Rome and turned Protestant? It was because books and tracts became, in the hands of God, a mighty reforming and regenerating power.

In reference to the printing press, Sir Thomas More, defender of the Roman Church, complained bitterly that the Reformers had become its master: ‘These diabolical people print their books at great expense, notwithstanding the great danger; not looking for any gain, they give them away to everybody, and even scatter them abroad by night’. ‘The Pope’, rejoiced John Foxe, (the martyrologist), ‘must abolish printing or he must seek a new world to reign over; for by this printing the doctrine of the Gospel soundeth to all nations and countries under heaven’. Thus was the power of the printed page acknowledged.

A book by Richard Sibbes, one of the choicest of the Puritan writers, was read by Richard Baxter, who was greatly blessed by it. Baxter then wrote his Call To The Unconverted which deeply influenced Philip Doddridge, who in turn wrote The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul. This brought the young William Wilberforce, subsequent English statesman and foe of slavery, to serious thoughts of eternity. Wilberforce wrote his Practical Book of Christianity which fired the soul of Leigh Richmond. Richmond, in turn, wrote The Dairyman ‘s Daughter; a book that brought thousands to the Lord, helping Thomas Chalmers the great preacher, among others.

What an eye-opener it was for me to read that the Watch Tower building in New York City puts out 12,000,000 pieces of Jehovah Witness literature a month, fifty percent of which is shipped overseas. They have large three-­storey buildings in which they do nothing but turn out their doctrines and heresies. They use one carload of paper per day and have the world’s largest religious bindery in which it is said that they are able to turn out 30,000 books per day. Still more disturbing is the fact that young men and women, between the ages of twenty and twenty-five, give their lives to this cause, with no remuneration apart from their lodging and food. Oh, that the day would come when more young men and women would give their lives to the cause of spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ with such dedication as this.

The Russians, a few years ago, published 29,301,400 books in 701 titles. An even greater volume was produced by 700 Communist publishers in 58 countries. Yet at that time the Communists were aiming at a 300% increase in the circulation of the printed page.

In the past the pen has been the hammer to break the errors of centuries. But now the enemies of the truth have learned the value of books and with word processors and printing presses they have left those who love bibli­cal Christianity far behind.

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

You may say you are convinced that books have been, and can be, used to evangelize, to teach, and to train, but, you ask, ‘How do I do it?’ Here are a few suggestions:

A minister can lead his people to see the importance of the use of good literature just as he leads them in other truths.

I know a minister who led his people to give good books with their Christ­mas gifts, wedding presents, hospital visits, and to their friends and neigh­bours. Believe me, it will help you build a strong church.

I know a minister who went to a church and there was not one copy of Pilgrim’s Progress in any home, in fact, when he first mentioned Bunyan many in his congregation thought he meant Paul Bunyan, the fellow who chopped down trees! Well, in three years there was a copy of Pilgrim’s Progress in 90% of the homes and many had read it.

I know a case where a church introduced a little book table. A lawyer’s wife took charge of it and in one year sold $10,000 worth of Christian books (wholesale ).

I know a church where they sell $1,000 worth of books at Christmas time to be used with gifts – mostly for evangelistic purposes. And in every case this ministry can be traced to the pulpit where a minister caught the vision and had a burden to use this means to evangelize and build up Christians.

Charles H Spurgeon tells how, when he was a child, his mother would often read a piece of Alleine’s Alarm to the Unconverted to the family as they sat round the fire on a Sunday evening and, when brought under conviction of sin, it was to this old book that he turned.

‘I remember’, he writes, ‘when I used to awake in the morning, the first thing I took up was Alleine’s Alarm, or Baxter’s Call to the Unconverted. Oh those books, those books! I read and devoured them … ‘

BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS

I want to mention one book specially today that has been mightily used in the history of Christianity, that is my favourite book, Pilgrim’s Progress. Without doubt, next to the Bible, Pilgrim’s Progress has been used to bless more people than any other single book, and you should not rest until every family in your church has a copy. Use it in your sermons!

William Chalmers Burns, the first Presbyterian missionary to go to China, translated Pilgrim’s Progress as a means of evangelizing – a different kind of evangelism than we have today. Later, when he worked farther back into the interior of that nation, he translated it into the local dialects.

I want to tell you a few facts about this immortal volume, Pilgrim’s Progress, hoping to make you anxious to read it – yes, and study it, and have some family discussions about it.

– It has some excellent preaching material. Spurgeon read it one hundred times, and it permeated his sermons.

– Pilgrim’s Progress communicates the biblical message of salvation by grace.

– It is pregnant with Bible truth. Spurgeon said, ‘You can prick John Bunyan anywhere for all his blood is “bibline” ‘.

– It is not fiction – it bathes and swims in Scripture. The more you know the Bible and the theology of the Bible the better you will understand and appreciate this useful volume.

– It is the life of the Christian travelling between two worlds. Hear it in Bunyan’s words:

‘And thus it was I, writing of the Way

And the race of saints in this our gospel day,

Fell suddenly into an allegory

About their journey, and the way to Glory.’

– It is the great doctrines of the Bible, set forth in an experimental and illustrative manner.

– It is as relevant today as the day it was written (between 1675 and 1684).

Like the Bible, it is always relevant because it is about God, Man, Sin, Christ, Salvation, Life, Death, Heaven, and Hell.

The poet Browning said, ‘Tis my belief that God spake; no tinker has such power’.

James Montgomery said, ‘God gave a great gift to His church when He converted John Bunyan to write Pilgrim’s Progress’.

No amount of literary study in itself could ever produce Pilgrim’s Progress. It took not only the natural gifts and graces of John Bunyan, but also his deep spiritual experiences and insights into the Word of God, and a biblical interpretation of those experiences. Bunyan travelled so close to the Master’s steps that he gives a marvellously accurate picture of the road to the Celestial City and of the difficulties we shall find on the way.

Today Pilgrim’s Progress stands next to the Bible in sales and translations (198 languages). There are indeed so many editions that it is virtually impos­sible to compute them. There are 50 editions in Africa alone.

Where the Bible goes, we may say, the Pilgrim’s Progress will follow! Bunyan and his book have no appeal, at first, to the men and women of this world, as I have often noticed. The men and women who are too wrapped up in this world either do not understand it, or see no great depth of spiritual truth in it. Others do not care for it. I recall the words of one, a professional man who had to stop reading it because, as he told me, ‘It upsets me too much – spiritually and emotionally’. I am afraid he saw himself too plainly!

Pilgrim’s Progress is better than any book on anthropology or psychology.

Why do I say that? Because most books on these subjects study man without God or the Bible. Now, you can learn a lot about man without God or the Bible, but you can never get to his real problems, and therefore you cannot come up with the correct answers. Bunyan will give you a real insight into yourself and all other sinners as no other book but the Bible.

LESSONS FOR TODAY

Vanity-Fair has not changed. There is a Vanity-Fair every day. Madam Bubble still seeks to draw away pilgrims. Madam Wanton walks on every street. Mrs Bats-Eye still thinks everyone is blind. Men with muckrakes are all around us who will not give up their muckrake for the crown offered by the One above. They will not turn their eyes upward. Are there any of you here today who are so busy with straws, small sticks and dust on the floor, that you have not looked up? Is all your time and energy spent without look­ing up?

The Church is full of Talkatives, the son of Say- Well of Prating Row. Does this not tell you volumes about this type in just a sentence? Ready at a moment’s notice for what you will, this man can, with equal facility and equal emptiness, ‘talk of things heavenly or things earthly; things moral or things evangelical; things sacred or things profane; things past or things to come; things foreign or things at home; and the only condition that the wretched windbag stipulates is that all be done to spiritual profit’.

Surely you have met By-Ends of Fair-Speech. ‘A subtle knave’ whose grandfather was a waterman, looking one way and rowing another and whose distinguishing characteristics are that, in religion, he makes it a point ‘never to go against wind and tide, and to be the best friend of religion when she goes in silver slippers, walking in the sunshine and is applauded of the people’.

What infinite skill Bunyan had to draw such a character picture in just a few sentences!

Who has not been the prisoner of Giant Despair and suffered in Doubting Castle, and then experienced that wonderful release by the Key of Promise? A beautiful picture and very relevant. Christians and their problems do not change with the calendar. Despair, doubt, fear, and death are still with us.

I hope you have been to Interpreter’s House where you see things rare, things profitable, things pleasant, and awesome things to make one stable.

Real lessons can be learned about receiving people into the church at Pa­lace Beautiful from that grave and beautiful damsel named Discretion.

A PRACTICAL LESSON

All of us need to be cheered by the help of Great-Heart, Stand-Fast, and Val­iant-for-the- Truth, and good old Honest. Some of us have been in Doubting Castle. Some in The Slough of Despond. Some have experienced the tempt­ations at Vanity-Fair. All of us have to climb The Hill Difficulty, all of us need to be instructed by the Interpreter in The House Beautiful. All of us bear the same burdens. All of us need the same armour in our fight with Apollyon. All of us have to pass through The Wicket-Gate. All of us must pass through The Dark River. And for all true Christians there awaits The Shining Ones at the gates of The Celestial City, ‘which, when we see, we wish ourselves amongst them’.

‘TWENTY-SIX SOLDIERS’

I hope I have encouraged you to use good sound literature in your ministry. There is power in those twenty-six soldiers – the letters of our alphabet upon the printed page.

Francis Bacon said, ‘If I might control the literature of the household, I would guarantee the wellbeing of the church and state’.

Martin Luther said, ‘We must throw the printer’s inkpot at the devil’. Robert Murray M’Cheyne said, ‘The smallest tract may be the stone in David’s sling. In the hands of Christ it may bring down a giant’s soul’.

August Schlegel said, ‘Literature is the immortality of speech’.

John Trapp said, ‘Be careful what books you read, for as water tastes of the soil it runs through, so does the soul taste of the authors that a man reads’.

Samuel Zwemmer said, ‘No other agency can penetrate so deeply, witness so daringly, abide so persistently and influence so irresistibly as the printed page’.

The printed page never flinches, it never shows cowardice; it is never tempted to compromise. The printed page never gets tired; it never gets dis­heartened.

The printed page travels cheaply – you can be a missionary for the price of a stamp. It requires no buildings in which to operate.

The printed page works while you sleep. It never loses its temper in dis­cussion. And it works when you are gone from the scene.

The printed page is a visitor that gets inside the home and stays there. It always catches a man in the right mood, it speaks to him only when he is reading it.

It never answers back and it sticks to the point.

There are some principles in using literature in your ministry that will be helpful:

– Know the books you give to others.

– Know the person, his needs and capacity, to whom you intend to give a book.

– Know the most serious areas of ignorance and the errors of our day. (The doctor does not give green pills to everyone, and he does not give medicine that is not relevant to what he believes to be the problem.)

– Do not be afraid to invest some money in your own missionary project. Follow through with other books and with discussion on subjects in the books you use.

– Aim to have a book-table in your church and see that its appearance is varied from week to week.

– Be sure to use books and literature that are consistent with the teaching of the Bible.

– Soak all the books you distribute in fervent prayer.

A WORD ABOUT THE BANNER OF TRUTH

For those of you who are not acquainted with our history, and our purposes, may I take a moment to mention a very brief summary of our history.

The work began in 1955 with a little magazine. lain Murray was the principal editor. Two years later, in 1957, The Trust was formed. The two men who had the vision and burden were, Jack Cullum, who was the prin­cipal financier, and lain Murray.

Mr Cullum put thousands and thousands of dollars into the work. He never allowed his name to appear in the magazine or in any of our publi­cations, and it never did so until after his death in 1971.

Mr Murray is to a large degree ‘Mr Banner’. He is the Editor of the magazine and has been responsible for the selection of most of our titles. He has given much of his life to this great work.

The main objects of the Trust have been to help ministers secure good books, particularly those out of print, to encourage true piety, God-centred evangelism, experimental Calvinism, and prayer for revival.

I can say without any equivocation, mental reservation, or evasion what­ever, that we understand and believe the most biblical view of the Christian Faith is that which is known as Reformed and set forth in the great historic creeds of the church, such as the Westminster Confession of Faith, The London Baptist Confession of 1689 and the articles of the Synod of Dort.

The Trust could say that over thirty years ago, and it can say it today.

Banner has never wavered from its position or found it necessary to adopt a new policy.

Our motive has been to promote that system of biblical truth which is most clearly expressed in that exalted system of Pauline theology, nick­named Calvinism!

We have reprinted many of the old Puritan writers, but we do not worship the Puritans, or wish to garnish their sepulchres. We value them as Christian teachers who brought together true biblical doctrine and devotion, doctrine and piety, doctrine and evangelism, more than any other group of men since the days of the apostles.

My dear young minister friends, let me encourage you to use sound Chris­tian literature in your ministry. Never cease to teach your church to use sound Christian literature to evangelize, to instruct, to comfort, and to encourage Christians.

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In times such as ours it is easy to seem a bigot, if one keeps a firm hold of truth, and is careful to have the seal of Heaven on his hope. No Christian can be true and faithful now-a-days on whose brow the world shall not brand the name of bigot. But let him bear it. It is a mark of honour, though intended to be a brand of shame. It proves him to be an associate of the men of whom the world was not worthy, but who, under the world’s lash, did more for the world’s good than all besides. The world ever suffers by the men it honours. The men of mercy to it are the men it hates. Ah, these old Covenanters of our native land were stern bigots in their day. It was well for Scotland that they were. They could part with their lives, but they could not sell the truth. They would yield all for conscience, but they would yield nought to despots. They could bear to suffer and to die, but they were afraid to sin. It was this bigotry which won its liberty for their native land. The legacy bequeathed to it by these men of faith, whose only home was oft the mountain cavern, and to whom the snow was oft the only winding-sheet which wrapped their bodies when they had given their lives for Christ, was a richer boon than all ever given to it by the kings who occupied its throne, and by all men of title and of wealth who owned its acres. Oh yes, they were bigots these, in the judgment of scoffing sceptics and of ruthless persecutors, and not all the piles they could kindle could burn their bigotry out of them.

And these were stern bigots, too, according to the world’s estimate, who headed the crusade against Antichrist, when, at the era of the Reformation, a fire from Heaven had kindled in their hearts the love of truth. It was by unflinching resolution, induced by living faith, these men overcame in the times of stern trial in which they unfurled their banner in the name of God. A pliant Melanchthon would have bartered the gospel for peace–the stern courage of a Luther was needed to prevent the sacrifice. In every age, from the beginning, when the cause of truth emerged triumphant from the din and dust of controversy, the victory was won by a band of bigots who were sworn to its defence.

There is need now of the men whom the world calls bigots. Men of grasp less firm and of love less fervent will do little for the cause of truth and for the best interests of humanity. Other men than these will even barter their own eternal prospects for the honour which comes from men and for the ease which is won by compromise. How many such as these there are, even in the Churches, and even there in the van, who boast of a charity which is indiscriminate in its regards, of a sentiment that refuses the form which the truth imposes, and who have learned from the worldling his scorn of all seriousness, his contempt for all scrupulousness of conscience, and his sneers at the religion which is sustained by intercourse with Heaven! These have their followers. A widespread movement has begun away from vital religion, fixed beliefs, and holy living. The Churches are moving with the current. The time may be fast approaching when the one alternative shall be living faith or open scepticism. A tide which few seem careful to resist is bearing us on to such a crisis. How the result may tell on Churches, communities, and individuals we cannot forecast, nor can we attempt to conjecture without sadness of feeling. But an assured victory is the destiny of the cause of truth. Till the hour of its triumph shall come, all who have linked their interests to the chariot of the gospel shall find themselves a diminishing band as they advance, their loneliness of feeling deepening as former friendships wane into neglect, coldness is changed into scorn, and contempt passes into bitter enmity; and they can follow the cause of truth only amidst the scoffs of unbelievers and the shafts of persecutors.

But let no lover of the truth–let none whose eye ever rested on the hope of the gospel–turn craven-hearted back from trial. To fall in the cause of truth is but to rise in the kingdom of glory. To be trampled under foot till crushed dead by the heel of persecution is but to have the prison broken open, that the ransomed spirit may pass from bondage to a throne. And in his saddest hour let not the sufferer for truth refuse the joy which glimpses of prophetic light bring to his heart as they break through the clouds of present trial. His King shall triumph in His cause on earth, and His friends shall share His glory. All nations shall touch His sceptre. The old strongholds of unbelief shall be levelled in the dust. Iniquity shall hide its face ashamed. Truth, as revealed from Heaven, shall receive universal homage, and be glorious in the halo of its blissful triumphs before the eyes of all.

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By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise: For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.

Hebrews 11:9, 10

Two Representations of Faith

The chapter from which our text is taken is pre-eminently the chapter on faith. It illustrates the nature, power and effects of this grace in a series of examples from sacred history. In the context the prophecy of Habakkuk is quoted: ‘The righteous shall live by faith.’ We remember that in the Epistles to the Romans and Galatians also the same prophecy appears with prominence. Abraham similarly figures there as the great example of faith. In consequence one might easily be led to think that the development of the idea of faith in these epistles and in our chapter moves along identical lines. This would be only partially correct. Although the two types of teaching are in perfect accord, and touch each other at certain points, yet the angle of vision is not the same. In Romans and Galatians faith is in the main trust in the grace of God, the instrument of justification, the channel through which the vital influences flowing from Christ are received by the believer. Here in Hebrews the conception is wider; faith is ‘the proving of things not seen, the assurance of things hoped for’. It is the organ for apprehension of unseen and future realities, giving access to and contact with another world. It is the hand stretched out through the vast distances of space and time, whereby the Christian draws to himself the things far beyond, so that they become actual to him. The earlier epistles are not unfamiliar with this aspect of faith. Paul in 2 Corinthians declares that for the present the Christian walks through a land of faith and not of sight. And on the other hand this chapter is not unfamiliar with the justifying function of faith, for we are told of Noah, that he became heir of the righteousness which is according to faith. Nevertheless, taking the two representations as a whole, the distinctness of the point of view in each should not be neglected.

Faith in the Life of Christ

It can be best appreciated by observing that, while in these other writings Christ is the object of faith, the One towards whom the sinner’s trust is directed, here the Saviour is described as himself exercising faith, in fact as the one perfect, ideal believer. The writer exhorts his readers: ‘Let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the leader and perfecter of our faith.’ Faith in that other sense of specific trust, through which a guilty sinner becomes just in the sight of God, our Lord could not exercise, because he was sinless. But the faith that is an assurance of things hoped for and a proving of things not seen had a large place in his experience. By very reason of the contrast between the higher world to which he belonged and this dark lower world of suffering and death to which he had surrendered himself it could not be otherwise than that faith, as a projection of his soul into the unseen and future, should have been the fundamental habit of the earthly life of his human nature, and should have developed in him a degree of intensity not attained elsewhere.

Faith and its Fruits

But, although, for the reason stated, in the unique case of Jesus the two types of faith did not go together, they by no means exclude each other in the mind of the Christian. For, after all, justifying faith is but a special application in one particular direction of the frame of mind here described. Among all the realities of the invisible world, mediated to us by the disclosures and promises of God, and to which our faith responds there is none that more strongly calls into action this faculty for grasping the unseen than the divine pronouncement through the gospel, that, though sinners, we are righteous in the judgement of God. That is not only the invisible, it seems the impossible; it is the paradox of all paradoxes; it requires a unique energy of believing; it is the supreme victory of faith over the apparent reality of things; it credits God with calling the things that are not as though they were; it penetrates more deeply into the deity of God than any other act of faith. What we read in this chapter about the various activities and acts of faith in the lives of the Old Testament saints might perhaps at first create the impression that the word ‘faith’ is used in a looser sense, and that many things are attributed to it not strictly belonging there on the author’s own definition. One might be inclined in more precise language to classify them with other Christian graces. There is certainly large variety of costume in the procession that is made to pass before our eyes. The understanding that the worlds were framed out of nothing, the ability to offer God an acceptable sacrifice, the experience of translation unto God, the preparing of the ark, the responsiveness to the call to leave one’s country, the power to conceive seed when past age, the willingness to sacrifice an only son, Joseph’s mention beforehand of the deliverance from Egypt, and his commandment concerning his bones, the hiding of the child Moses, the choice by Moses, when grown up, of the reproach of God’s people in preference to the treasures of Egypt, all this and more is represented as belonging to the one rubric of faith. But let us not misunderstand the writer. When he affirms that by faith all these things were suffered and done, his idea is not that what is enumerated was in each case the direct expression of faith. What he means is that in the last analysis faith alone made possible every one of the acts described, that as an underlying frame of mind it enabled all these other graces to function, and to produce the rich fruitage here set forth. The obedience, the self-sacrifice, the patience, the fortitude, the exercise of all these in the profound Christian sense would have been impossible, if the saints had not had through faith their eye firmly fixed on the unseen and promised world. Whether the call was to believe or to follow, to do or to bear, the obedience to it sprang not from any earth-fed sources but from the infinite reservoir of strength stored up in the mountain-land above. If Moses endured it was not due to the power of resistance in his human frame, but because the weakness in him was compensated by the vision of him who is invisible. If Abraham, who had gladly received the promises, offered up his only-begotten son, it was not because in heroic resignation he steeled himself to obedience, but because through faith he saw God as greater and stronger than the most inexorable physical law of nature: ‘For he accounted that God is able to raise up even from the dead.’ And so in all the other instances. Through faith the powers of the higher world were placed at the disposal of those whom this world threatened to overwhelm, and so the miracle resulted that from weakness they were made strong.

Faith No Sixth-Sense

No mistake could be greater than to naturalize the contents of this chapter, and to conceive of the thing portrayed as some instinct of idealism, some sort of sixth sense for what lies above the common plane of life, as people speak of men of vision, who see farther than the mass. The entire description rests on the basis of supernaturalism; these are annals of grace, magnalia Christi. Even the most illustrious names in the history of worldly achievement are not, as such, entitled to a place among them. This is the goodly company of patriarchs, prophets and saints, who endured the reproach of Christ, of whom the world was not worthy, who form the line of succession through which the promises passed, who now compose the cloud of witnesses that encompass our mortal strife, men of whom God is not ashamed to be called their God, with whom the Saviour himself is associated as the leader and finisher of the same faith.

Faith as Heavenly-Mindedness

In our text, however, we meet faith in its more simple and direct mode of operation. It appears as dealing with the unseen and future. From the life of the patriarchs the more militant, strenuous features are absent. In their lives it is allowed as in a region of seclusion and quietness to unfold before our eyes its simple beauty. Faith is here but another name for other-worldliness or heavenly-mindedness. Herein lies the reason why the writer dwells with such evident delight upon this particular part of the Old Testament narrative. The other figures he merely sketches, and with a rapid skilful stroke of the brush puts in the highlights of their lives where the glory of faith illumined them. But the figure of Abraham he paints with the lingering, caressing hand of love, so that something of the serenity and peacefulness of the original patriarchal story is reproduced in the picture: ‘By faith he became a sojourner in the land of promise, as in a land not his own, dwelling in tents with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise; for he looked for the city which has the foundations, whose builder and maker is God.’ The charm spread over this part of the subject to the author’s vision also appears in this, that, after having already dismissed it and passed on to the portrayal of Abraham’s faith in another form, as connected with the seed of the promise, he involuntarily returns to cast one more loving glance at it: ‘They died in faith, not having received the promises, but seen them and greeted them from afar, and having confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things make it manifest that they are seeking after a country of their own. And if indeed they had been mindful of the country from which they went out, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better country, that is a heavenly; wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared them a city.’

‘Pilgrims on the Earth’

The other-worldliness of the patriarchs showed itself in this, that they confessed to be strangers and pilgrims on the earth. It found its visible expression in their dwelling in tents. Not strangers and pilgrims outside of Canaan, but strangers and pilgrims in the earth. The writer places all the emphasis on this, that they pursued their tent-life in the very land of promise, which was their own, as in a land not their own. Only in this way is a clear connection between the staying in tents and the looking forward to heaven obtained. For otherwise the tents might have signified merely that they considered themselves not at home when away from the holy land. If even in Canaan they carried within themselves the consciousness of pilgrimage then it becomes strikingly evident that it was a question of fundamental, comprehensive choice between earth and heaven. The adherence to the tent-life in the sight and amidst the scenes of the promised land fixes the aspiration of the patriarchs as aiming at the highest conceivable heavenly goal. It has in it somewhat of the scorn of the relative and of compromise. He who knows that for him a palace is in building does not dally with desires for improvement on a lower scale. Contentment with the lowest becomes in such a case profession of the highest, a badge of spiritual aristocracy with its proud insistence upon the ideal. Only the predestined inhabitants of the eternal city know how to conduct themselves in a simple tent as kings and princes of God. As to its negative side, the feeling of strangeness on earth, even in Canaan, the writer could base his representation on the statement of Abraham to the sons of Heth: ‘I am a stranger and a sojourner with you,’ and on the words of the aged Jacob to Pharaoh: ‘The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years: few and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage.’ As to the positive side, the desire for a heavenly state, there is no such explicit testimony in the narrative of Genesis. None the less the author was fully justified in affirming this also. It is contained by implication in the other. The refusal to build an abiding habitation in a certain place must be due to the recognition that one’s true, permanent abode is elsewhere. The not-feeling-at-home in one country has for its inevitable counterpart homesickness for another. The writer plainly ascribes this to the patriarchs, and in doing so also ascribes to them a degree of acquaintance with the idea of a heavenly life. His meaning is not that, unknown to themselves, they symbolized through their mode of living the principle of destination for heaven. On the contrary, we are expressly told that they confessed, that they made it manifest, that they looked for, that they desired. There existed with them an intelligent and outspoken apprehension of the celestial world. Let us not say that such an interpretation of their minds is unhistorical, because they could not in that age have possessed a clear knowledge of the world to come. Rather, in reading this chapter on faith let us have faith, a large, generous faith in the uniqueness and spiritual distinction of the patriarchs as confessors, perhaps in advance of their time, of the heaven-centred life of the people of God. In other respects also Scripture represents the patriarchal period as lifted above the average level of the surrounding ages, even within the sphere of special revelation. Paul tells us that in the matter of grace and freedom from the law Abraham lived on a plane and in an atmosphere much higher than that of subsequent generations. Anachronisms these things are, if you will, but anachronisms of God, who does not let himself be bound by time, but, seeing the end from the beginning, reserves the right to divide the flood of history, and to place on conspicuous islands at successive points great luminaries of his truth and grace shining far out into the future. The patriarchs had their vision of the heavenly country, a vision in the light of which the excellence or desirableness of every earthly home and country paled. Acquaintance with a fairer Canaan had stolen from their hearts the love of the land that lay spread around like a garden of paradise. Of course, it does not necessarily follow from this that the author credits the patriarchs with a detailed, concrete knowledge of the heavenly world. In point of heavenly-mindedness he holds them up as models to be imitated. In point of information about the content of the celestial life he places the readers far above the reach of the Old Testament at its highest. To the saints of the New Covenant life and immortality and all the powers of the world to come have been opened up by Christ. The Christian state is as truly part and foretaste of the things above as a portal forms part of the house. If not wholly within, we certainly are come to Mount Zion, the city of the living God. And in this we are more than Abraham. No such gospel broke in upon the solitude of these ancient shepherds, not even upon Jacob, when he saw the ladder reaching up into heaven with the angels of God ascending and descending upon it. But do you not see that precisely on account of this difference in knowledge the faculty of faith had addressed to it a stronger challenge than it has in us, who pilgrim with heaven’s door wide open in our sight? For this reason it is so profitable to return again and again to this part of the Old Testament Scriptures, and learn what great faith could do with less privilege, how precisely because it had such limited resource of knowledge, it made a sublimer flight, soaring with supreme dominion up to the highest heights of God. Let us try briefly to analyse what this other- worldliness of the patriarchs involved, and in what respects it will be well for us to cultivate it.

A Positive Faith

The first feature to be noted is that it is not essentially negative but positive in character. The core lies not in what it relinquishes but in what it seeks. Escape from the world here below and avoidance of the evil in the world do not furnish its primary motive. That is true only of the abnormal, morbid type of other-worldliness, that connected with pessimism and monastic seclusion. From an unwarranted identification with these the true grace portrayed by Scripture has been exposed to much ill-considered criticism and fallen into disrepute. If heavenly-mindedness were an upward flight in the ignominious sense of the word, it would be the very opposite to the heroism of genuine faith, a seeking for a harbour of refuge, instead of a steering for the haven of home. Do not misunderstand me. It is only right that in some measure the bitter experience of sin and evil should contribute to the Christian’s desire for heaven. The attraction of heaven is in part the attraction of freedom from sin. And not a little of the contempt poured upon it, while pretending to protest against cloistered withdrawal, springs in reality from a defective perception of the seriousness of sin. Where the eye has not by divine grace been opened to the world’s wickedness, it is easy to look with disdain on the Christian’s world-shyness. But the Christian, who knows that the end of sin cannot come until the end of this world, looks at the question in a light of his own. He is fully warranted in considering ridicule of this kind part of the reproach of Christ and bearing it with joy. Nor should we forget that an excess of interest in the present life, when shown in the name of religion, is apt in our day to be a symptom of doubt or unbelief in regard to the life to come. Still the principle remains in force, that the desirability of heaven should never possess exclusively or mainly negative significance. It is not something first brought into the religious mind through sin. The lineage and birthright of other-worldliness are of the oldest and noblest. By God himself this traveller’s unrest was implanted in the soul. Ever since the goal set by the covenant of works came within his ken, man carries with him in all his converse with this world the sense of belonging to another. This is but to say that supernaturalism forms from the outset the basis of true religion in man.

Heavenly-Mindedness and Earthly Life

Man belongs to two spheres. And Scripture not only teaches that these two spheres are distinct, it also teaches what estimate of relative importance ought to be placed upon them. Heaven is the primordial, earth the secondary creation. In heaven are the supreme realities; what surrounds us here below is a copy and shadow of the celestial things. Because the relation between the two spheres is positive, and not negative, not mutually repulsive, heavenly-mindedness can never give rise to neglect of the duties pertaining to the present life. It is the ordinance and will of God, that not apart from, but on the basis of, and in contact with, the earthly sphere man shall work out his heavenly destiny. Still the lower may never supplant the higher in our affections. In the heart of man time calls for eternity, earth for heaven. He must, if normal, seek the things above, as the flower’s face is attracted by the sun, and the watercourses are drawn to the ocean. Heavenly-mindedness, so far from blunting or killing the natural desires, produces in the believer a finer organization, with more delicate sensibilities, larger capacities, a stronger pulse of life. It does not spell impoverishment, but enrichment of nature. The spirit of the entire epistle shows this. The use of the words ‘city’ and ‘country’ is evidence of it. These are terms that stand for the accumulation, the efflorescence, the intensive enjoyment of values. Nor should we overlook the social note in the representation. A perfect communion in a perfect society is promised. In the city of the living God believers are joined to the general assembly and church of the firstborn, and mingle with the spirits of just men made perfect. And all this faith recognizes. It does not first need the storms and stress that invade to quicken its desire for such things. Being the sum and substance of all the positive gifts of God to us in their highest form, heaven is of itself able to evoke in our hearts positive love, such absorbing love as can render us at times forgetful of the earthly strife. In such moments the transcendent beauty of the other shore and the irresistible current of our deepest life lift us above every regard of wind or wave. We know that through weather fair or foul our ship is bound straight for its eternal port.

The Actuality of the Heavenly

Next to the positiveness of its object the high degree of actuality in the working of this grace should be considered. Through the faith of heavenly-mindedness the things above reveal themselves to the believer, are present with him, and communicate themselves to him. Though as yet a pilgrim, the Christian is never wholly separated from the land of promise. His tents are pitched in close view of the city of God. Heaven is present to the believer’s experience in no less real a sense than Canaan with its fair hills and valleys lay close to the vision of Abraham. He walks in the light of the heavenly world and is made acquainted with the kindred spirits inhabiting it. And since the word ‘actual’ in its literal sense means ‘that which works’, the life above possesses for the believer the highest kind of actuality. He is given to taste the powers of the world to come, as Abraham breathed the air of Canaan, and was refreshed by the dews descending on its fields. The roots of the Christian’s life are fed from those rich and perennial springs that lie deep in the recesses of converse with God, where prayers ascend and divine graces descend, so that after each season of tryst he issues, a new man, from the secrecy of his tent. Because it had this effect for the patriarchs, faith had so intimately joined to it the exercise of hope. It is no less the assurance of things hoped for than the proving of things not seen. It annihilates the distance of time as much as of space. If faith deals with heaven as it exists, hope seizes upon it as it will be at the end. Hope attaches itself to promises; it sees and greets from afar. As the epistle describes it, it does not contemplate purely provisional and earthly developments, does not come to rest in the happenings of intermediate ages, but relates to the end. In one unbroken flight it soars to the goal of God’s work in history, which is none other than the finished heaven. For heaven itself is subject to a process of preparation, so that its full content became accessible only to the patriarchs through a projection of their faith in time. The heaven for which they hoped was the heaven of redemption, enriched through the ages, become peopled with the successive generations of the saints of God, filled with the glory of Christ, the recreated paradise, towards which all the streams of grace springing up in time send their waters. The believer requires this new heaven, not simply the cosmical place that resulted from the first creation. Hence his heavenly-mindedness can never destroy interest in the unfolding of the ways of God throughout the history of the present world. Neither grows he impatient when the promise seems to tarry. For his hope also is in him a vitalizing power. It lives by the things that are not as though they were already, and makes the future supply strength for the present.

‘A City Which Hath Foundations’

Amidst all the vicissitudes of time the Christian knows that the foundations of the city of God are being quietly laid, that its walls are rising steadily, and that it will at last stand finished in all its golden glory, the crowning product of the work of God for his own. But the faith of heavenly-mindedness in yet another, even profounder, sense surmounts time. In contrast with what is transitory it lays hold of the unchanging and eternal. The text expresses this by describing the city looked for as the city which has the foundations. The difference between the well-founded enduring edifice and the frail, collapsible tent has induced this turn of the figure. Already in the prophet Isaiah Jehovah declares: ‘Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a precious cornerstone of sure foundation: he that believeth shall not make haste.’ In this word the two ideas of sure foundation and faith are brought into close connection. Because the foundation is sure the believer can lay aside all disquietude and impatience in regard to the working out of the divine purpose. He need not make haste. It is of the essence of faith to crave assurance; hence it cannot come to rest until it have cast its  anchor into the eternal. And heaven above all else partakes of the character of eternity. It is the realm of the unchangeable. In this lower world time with its law of attrition is king. Nothing can escape his inexorable rule. What is must cease to be, what appears must vanish, what is built must be broken down, even though the human heart should cherish it more than its own life. And this applies not merely to objects of natural affection; it involves also much that is of transitory purpose in the service and church of God. Even our religion in its earthly exercise is not exempt from the tragical aspect borne by all existence in time. The summons comes again and again: ‘Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house,’ and after a brief spell of comfort and delight we anew find ourselves in tents roaming through an inhospitable world. There is no help for these things. Like Abraham we must resolutely confess that we are strangers and pilgrims in a land of time, and that the best this land can offer us is but a caravanserai to tarry in for a day and a night. Abraham would have undoubtedly rejoiced in the vision of the historical Jerusalem around which gather so many glories of God’s redemptive work. But, suppose it had risen up before him in all its beauty, would that have been the soul-satisfying vision his faith desired? No, there is neither quietness nor repose for the believer’s heart except on the bosom of eternity. There and there alone is shelter from the relentless pursuit of change. The inspired writer tells us that the two most momentous events in sacred history, the giving of the law on Sinai and the end of the world, signify the removal of things that are shaken, in order that such things as are not shakeable may remain. And the second shaking is so radical and comprehensive that it involves not only the earth but likewise the heavens: it will sweep the transitory out of the life of the people of God even in the higher regions, and will leave them, when the smoke and dust of the upheaval are blown away, in a clear atmosphere of eternal life. But in this sense also faith is not purely prospective: it enables to anticipate; it draws down the imperishable substance of eternity into its vessel of time and feeds on it. The believer knows that even now there is in him that which has been freed from the law of change, a treasure that moth and rust cannot corrupt, true riches enshrined in his heart as in a treasury of God.

Rural Charm or Real Faith?

Have we ever been impressed in reading the narrative of Genesis by the peacefulness and serenity enveloping the figures of the patriarchs? There is something else here besides the idyllic charm of rural surroundings. What enviable freedom from the unrest, the impatience, the feverish excitement of the children of this world! Our modern Christian life so often lacks the poise and stability of the eternal. Religion has come so overmuch to occupy itself with the things of time that it catches the spirit of time. Its purposes turn fickle and unsteady; its methods become superficial and ephemeral; it alters its course so constantly; it borrows so readily from sources beneath itself, that it undermines its own prestige in matters pertaining to the eternal world. Where lies the remedy? It would be useless to seek it in withdrawal from the struggles of this present world. The true corrective lies in this, that we must learn again to carry a heaven-fed and heaven-centred spirit into our walk and work below. The grand teaching of the epistle that through Christ and the New Covenant the heavenly projects into the earthly, as the headlands of a continent project into the ocean, should be made fruitful for the whole tone and temper of our Christian service. Every task should be at the same time a means of grace from and an incentive to work for heaven. There has been One greater than Abraham, who lived his life in absolute harmony with this principle, in whom the fullest absorption in his earthly calling could not for a moment disturb the consciousness of being a child of heaven. Though, like the patriarchs, he had no permanent home, not even a tent, this was not in his case the result of a break with an earthly-minded past. It was natural to him. In his mind were perfectly united the two hemispheres of supernaturalism, that of the source of power behind, and that of the eternal goal of life beyond every work. A religion that has ceased to set its face towards the celestial city is bound sooner or later to discard also all supernatural resources in its endeavour to transform this present world. The days are perhaps not far distant when we shall find ourselves confronted with a quasi-form of Christianity professing openly to place its dependence on and to work for the present life alone, a religion, to use the language of Hebrews, become profane and a fornicator like Esau, selling for a mess of earthly pottage its heavenly birthright.

The Spirituality of Faith

There are two more aspects of the patriarchal faith of heavenly-mindedness to be briefly considered. The first is its spirituality. Heavenly-mindedness is spiritual-mindedness. This pervades like an atmosphere the entire epistle. We have already seen that even in the promised land the patriarchs remained tent-dwellers. God had a wise purpose in thus postponing for them personally the fulfilment of the temporal promise. Although Canaan was a goodly land, it was yet, after all, material and not of that higher substance we call spiritual. While capable of carrying up the mind to supernal regions, it also exposed to the danger of becoming satisfied with the blessing in its provisional form. That this danger was not imaginary the later history of Israel testifies. In order to guard against such a result in the case of the patriarchs God withheld from them the land and its riches and made of this denial a powerful spiritualizing discipline. By it they were led to reflect that, since the promise was theirs beyond all doubt, and yet they were not allowed to inherit it in its material form, that therefore it must in the last analysis relate to something far higher and different, something of which the visible and sensual is a mere image. Thus the conception of another sphere of being was introduced into their minds: henceforth they sought the better country. Not as if the things of sense were worthless in themselves, but because they knew of something transcendent that claimed their supreme affection. Their tastes and enjoyments had been raised to another plane. The refinement of grace had been imparted to them. For bodily hands there had been, as it were, substituted spiritual antennae, sensitive to intangible things. They had come to a mountain that could not be touched and yet could be felt. In all the treasures and promises of religion the one valuable thing is this spiritual core. In the word that God speaks we can taste all his goodness and grace. Hope itself is spiritualized, remaining no longer the hope of imagination but grasping in God the ideal root from which the whole future must spring and blossom in due time. The heavenly world does not appear desirable as simply a second improved edition of this life; that would be nothing else than earthly-mindedness projected into the future. The very opposite takes place: heaven spiritualizes in advance our present walk with God. Each time faith soars and alights behind the veil it brings back on its wings some of the subtle fragrance that there prevails. This also is an important principle in need of stress at the present day. If there is danger of Christianity being temporalized, there is no less danger of its being materialized. How easily do we fall into the habit of handling the things of our holy faith after an external, quantitative, statistical fashion, so that they turn flesh under our touch and emit a savour of earth? If at any time or in any form this fault should threaten to befall us, let us revisit the tents of the patriarchs and rehearse the lesson that in religion the body without the soul is worthless and without power.

Heaven the Normal Goal of our Redemption

The other point to be observed is this: heaven is the normal goal of our redemption. We all know that religion is older than redemption. At the same time the experience of redemption is the summit of religion. The two have become so interwoven that the Christian cannot conceive of a future state from which the redemptive mould and colour would be absent. The deepest and dearest in us is so much the product of salvation, that the vision of God as such and the vision of God our Saviour melt into one. We could not separate them if we would. The simple reason is that precisely in redeeming us God has revealed to us the inmost essence of his deity. No one but a redeemed creature can truly know what it is for God to be God, and what it means to worship and possess him as God. This is the fine gold of the Christian’s experience, sweeter to him than honey and the honeycomb. The river that makes glad the city of God is the river of grace. The believer’s mind and heart will only in heaven compass the full riches, the length and breadth and depth and height of the love of God. No one can drink so deeply of it here, but he will more deeply drink hereafter. Blessed be God, no stream of Lethe flows this side of his city to wash away from our minds the remembrance of redeeming grace! The life above will be a ceaseless coming to Jesus, the Mediator of a better covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaketh better than Abel. The Lamb slain for our sins will be all the glory of Emmanuel’s land. Finally the highest thing that can be spoken about this city is that it is the city of our God, that he is in the midst of it. Traced to its ultimate root heavenly-mindedness is the thirst of the soul after God, the living God. The patriarchs looked not for some city in general, but for a city whose builder and maker was God. It is characteristic of faith that it not merely desires the perfect but desires the perfect as a work and gift of God. A heaven that was not illumined by the light of God, and not a place for closest embrace of him, would be less than heaven. God as builder and maker thereof has put the better part of himself into his work. Therefore those who enter the city are in God. The thought is none other than that of the seer in the Apocalypse: ‘I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God, the Almighty and the Lamb are the temple thereof. And that city has no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine upon it, for the glory of God lightens it, and the throne of God and the Lamb are therein: and his servants shall do him service, and they shall see his face, and his name shall be on their foreheads.’ And the faith is the faith of the psalmist, who spoke: ‘Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.’ Here it is impossible for us to tell how truly and to what extent our relation to God is a relation of pure, disinterested love in which we seek him for his own sake. There, when all want and sin-frailty shall have slipped away from us, we shall be able to tell. It was because God discerned in the souls of the patriarchs, underneath all else, this personal love, this homesickness for himself, that he caused to be recorded about them the greatest thing that can be spoken of any man: that God is not ashamed to be called their God, and that he has prepared for them the city of their desire.

Featured Photo by Zwaddi on Unsplash

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Last week I noticed that Ryan Gosling was nominated for an Oscar for playing Ken alongside Margot Robbie’s Barbie in last summer’s hit by the same name. Robbie, incidentally, was not so nominated. I won’t watch the film, but I recall reading that the plot features a wayward Ken promoting patriarchy, and that Barbie—won’t this help us all sleep better—rescues the world from patriarchy. It is likely that I am not the only one to detect a total public relations failure when the man gets the trophy after all.

This in turn reminded me of something I read around the time the movie came out: that the Archbishop of York of the Church of England was also worried about patriarchy, and that its troubling existence makes some understandably uncomfortable with a certain prayer that begins with the words “Our Father.”¹

And the bishop is hardly alone. Many professing Christians sound just like Barbie and the bishop, and tell me that the church has missed something—a two-thousand-year-old fifth column called patriarchy must be rooted out of Christianity for Christianity to survive in our enlightened age.² Without pulling this invasive weed, they tell me, we are doomed.

What do we make of this assessment? Is this really a noxious weed? What is patriarchy?

What is True: Decades of Bad News Concerning Bad Men

In 2002 the Boston Globe published a series of stories revealing a pattern of criminal sexual abuse in the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston. The hypocrisy caused a crisis of confidence that spread in the church worldwide, and continues to the present day—the fathers were not what they claimed to be.

American evangelicalism has not fared much better. Vision Forum promised the restoration of the Christian family through “The Tenets of Biblical Patriarchy;” instead its president confessed to inappropriate sexual conduct. Mr. “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” left his wife and left the faith.  Leaders in the Southern Baptist Convention faced serious allegations. To our shame the church has often looked more like Harvey Weinstein and Jeffrey Epstein than Job or Joseph.

My own tribe—evangelical Presbyterianism—has its own cases of the same sordid substance. This is the hypocrisy of which Jesus said: “Woe to you!” This is also the way of sinful flesh; there is nothing new under the sun, and what has been will be. Sexual desire, apart from the controlling influence of the Holy Spirit, produces all manner of wicked fruit. The lust of the flesh is destructive and evil.

But some suggest that these failures are not fundamentally rooted in individual fallen human nature but rather social structures that unequally place men in positions of influence, leading to the imbalance and abuse of power. If we solve the imbalance, so the logic goes, we will eliminate the abuse. Utopia requires the elimination of patriarchy.

What is Patriarchy?

Patriarchy simply means father-rule. The word clearly indicates an apportioning of authority. It is an uncomplicated word, used by the church for millennia. Today’s use of the word, however, appears to be confused by two things: (i) people who use it to describe unbiblical schemes (we will call this not-patriarchy) or (ii) people who think patriarchy itself is actually bad.

About not-patriarchy: The promises of I Kissed Dating Goodbye or Vision Forum or Bill Gothard should never have appealed to Christians, ever. These schemes went beyond the Law of God, lacked Gospel basics, and understated dependence on the Holy Spirit. It is no surprise that adherents later kiss Christianity goodbye. All forms of legalistic, harsh, and sinful leadership are not fatherhood but delinquency. We need to learn to recognize and reject counterfeit patriarchy.³

The second concern is the unequivocal rejection of the whole thing: Patriarchy is simply very bad. Countless journalists, opinion writers and professors, the bishop and Barbie (and a growing chorus of evangelical-egalitarian influencers) are in agreement: Very, very bad.

I hear this sentiment in the Presbyterian denominations in which I travel: “Beware patriarchy,” which then is inexplicably defined as “men being unkind to women.” This particular definition often makes its appearance during discussions of abuse or sexual sin; for some this is apparently indistinguishable from patriarchy. If we were playing Clue, it was patriarchy in the church that did it. Case closed.

The net effect? Listen up, everybody: Patriarchy is a big problem. Father-rule is bad. The father is bad.

The Dangers That Follow the Loss of Patriarchy

So why even try to rescue a sullied word? Doesn’t language change? I would submit that acquiescence to the popular equation patriarchy–is-evil will result in the loss of our nation, the Christian home, the church and the Gospel. How, you ask, could this little word be so important?

First, the Bible honors fathers. God instituted fatherhood when he made Adam (first), then Eve, then marriage and then gave the command to be fruitful and multiply. Paul honored Israel’s patriarchs. Peter preached about the patriarch David, and Stephen said the p-word, twice, just before going to heaven as a martyr. The writer to the Hebrews thought Abraham a fine patriarch.⁴ Jesus was not ashamed of his Father.⁵ This is God’s design and this is God’s language.

Second, this is God’s language with profound meaning and import. The association of patriarchy with evil runs against the grain of the nature of God and His creation. It induces in me a cognitive dissonance that surges on the Lord’s Day as I lead the people of God in the confession of our faith:⁶

“I believe in God the Father, Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.”

Is this not patriarchy? Is this not “father-rule”?

My mind scans the created order and lo, the fatherly structure echoes in my own home—I am a patriarch! There are fathers throughout the natural world, that lead, are stronger than women⁷, and are designed by God to serve and protect women and children. Creation is stamped with patriarchy. Sin has distorted and twisted what was beautiful—yes—but the good pattern is unmistakable.

The creeds amplify an inextricably related pattern in redemption, the pattern of marriage: “I believe in Jesus Christ, [the Father’s] only begotten Son, our Lord.”⁸ Jesus is the bridegroom and the church is his bride; Paul says that marriage is a mystery that points to Christ and His church; and so wives are to submit to their husbands and husbands are to love their wives. Husbands and fathers exercise rule.

It is this entire weight of the superstructure of reality—God and man made after his image, male and female—that is under crafty attack by the kingdom of darkness. Since Satan cannot have the kingdom, he appears to be trying to burn it all down. The smoldering peat fire underfoot is breaking out in all kinds of places, such as the NCAA women’s swimming championships and in the last summer’s SBC debate over the future of Saddleback Church and in discussions of abuse in NAPARC churches.⁹

We have to think carefully. It is true that powerful men have long abused anyone weaker. History’s Epsteins will face an eternal reckoning for their monstrous evils. They should also face consequences in this world, regardless of their professed repentance. It is also very Christian to care for victims. It seems—and this is a critical point—that Satan is keenly aware of this compassionate impulse, which he is presently co-opting by pointing to patriarchy (and not the sinful failures of patriarchs) as the abusive system that caused the pain.

If you doubt this, let’s return to the Church of England: The Archbishop of York believes that the “Our Father” of the Lord’s Prayer is problematic for those who have suffered under—wait for it—an “oppressively patriarchal grip on life.”¹⁰ Bishop Cottrell and I, from vastly differing perspectives, have noticed a nexus of ideas being pressed together: Fatherhood and oppression. Fatherhood is abusive. Patriarchy is bad.

Satan’s false flag operation is fueling misgivings about Biblical teaching concerning gender differences, fatherhood and motherhood, roles in marriage and male leadership in the church. (The church’s government notably has as its head a man, the man Christ Jesus, who set it up, who shed his blood for sinners in love and appoints men to shepherd the flock he loves.) ¹¹ Satan’s operation is a deceitful emotional appeal that can be summarized by a short and familiar formula: “God is evil, isn’t he?”¹²

But the truth is the opposite. The Fatherless realm—the dark kingdom—is the abusive source of abortion, human trafficking, sexual molestation, torture, the self-hatred of homosexuality, transgender mutilation and death. “Patriarchy is evil” is a tragic bait and switch, where Satan disguised as an angel of light promises relief while leading the world ever deeper into dark chambers of Fatherless horrors.¹³

Remember: Reality was designed a good patriarchy, ruled by the Triune God. Patriarchy is not a bad word.

In Defense of Godly Fatherhood

If you are a father, you carry the mantle of patriarchy. You rule your home. To make this a pretext for abuse is vile. Your rule is to be a sweet echo of the eternal love of God made known in Jesus Christ His only begotten Son. It is to be lived in daily prayer for the Spirit of God to pour more of the love of God into your heart in order that you might cheerfully exercise sacrificial leadership and care. Biblical fatherhood is strong, gracious, slow to anger, abounding in mercy and forgiveness, and holy.

We have from the Lord an eight-month-old baby in our home—the happiest kind of surprise. What strikes me anew is the vulnerability and wonder of a little child. I pray that I, with renewed repentance and faith in Jesus Christ, by the help of the Holy Spirit, would protect and love her together with all our children as long as I am able. “Father in heaven, please make me a husband and father that in some small way might reflect your glory and goodness to my family. Please forgive my many failures. Grant me the help of your generous Spirit. In Jesus name, Amen.”

If you believe in Jesus Christ, in Him you have come to the Father. You now trust a good and kind heavenly Father. You and I are under Fatherly rule, mediated by the Son, by the power of the Holy Spirit. You are under fatherly and husbandly protection and safety. This is very good news for undeserving sinners, and for believing victims of delinquent fathers.

And if you chafe under God’s design—it may simply be that you’ve never submitted to His rule. Listen to this description from the prophet Isaiah of what Jesus came to be and to do, and submit to the Gospel of God’s good and gracious fatherly rule in and by and with His Son:

For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end, upon the throne of David and over His kingdom, to order it and establish it with judgment and justice from that time forward, even forever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will perform this. (Is 9:6–7, NKJV)

Here is the fatherly redeeming work of the Triune God: by the Father who sent the Son, in the power of the Spirit, His kingdom rules over all—state, church and family—for His glory.

Our confused times call not for retreat from or the obfuscation of clear Biblical truths, but instead a renewed embrace of patriarchy, while praying exactly like this: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name, Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…for Jesus sake, Amen.”

Peter VanDoodewaard is the Pastor of Covenant Community Presbyterian Church in Taylors, South Carolina.

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THE narrative on which we are about to enter has always been regarded by true believers as a unique and most precious portion of the word of God. It is the record of the last moments spent by Jesus with his disciples before his passion. How was the Lord of glory employed? What was the work in which he was engaged during that solemn season? The beloved disciple, who leaned on his Master’s breast, does not indeed narrate all that took place in the upper room, during that ever-memorable night—such, for example, as the institution of the Lord’s Supper—but he does record incidents and utterances not mentioned by the other Evangelists, but of the most intensely interesting, instructive, and encouraging character, as revealing to us the Saviour’s love and tenderness. The narrative as a whole may be said to comprise the three following things: First of all, the wonderful act of Christ washing the disciples’ feet, with the warnings and indications, which he gave them in connection with it, as to the conduct of the traitor (13:2-30); secondly, the tender, consolatory discourse that ensued immediately after the traitor had left the supper-room (13:31-16:33); and then, thirdly, the sublime intercessory prayer just before entering the garden of Gethsemane (17:1-26). And the heading which John places on the forefront of the whole—not of the washing of the disciples’ feet merely, but of this whole section of the Gospel narrative—the inscription which he writes on the doorway that leads you to the devout consideration of it is: ‘Having loved his own that were in the world, he loved them unto the end.’ All that Jesus now does and says, John traces up to love—pure, unmingled love.

I have often regarded this divine sentence: ‘Having loved his own that were in the world, he loved them unto the end’, as one of the most tender and touching in the whole word of God. The statement will appear all the more so, when viewed in the light of the context. For the inspired Evangelist not only specifies the precise date—‘Before the feast of the passover’—but he also mentions a particular fact of a moral nature, of the utmost importance, as giving us an insight into the Saviour’s mind: ‘When Jesus knew’—or Jesus knowing—‘that his hour was come that he should depart out of this world unto the Father,’ etc. The idea plainly is that just because he knew—not merely although, but just because he knew—that his hour was come that he should leave this world, and that, consequently, his disciples would be left alone in it—as he had always previously loved them, so he now manifested his love in a very peculiar manner, corresponding to their necessities; and this, too, under the most affecting circumstances, and to the utmost extent.

In addressing you, therefore, a little more particularly from these words, I intend to notice, first, the objects, the peculiar objects, of this love, secondly, some of those ways in which Jesus had always previously manifested his love to them; and then, thirdly, the steadfastness and unfailing faithfulness of this love under the most affecting circumstances—as in life so also in death, ‘He loved them unto the end’.

The objects of this love are described, in the first instance, more generally as being ‘his own’. It is true, indeed, that in one sense all things are his own, as being their creator and preserver—all things, from the highest archangel to the meanest insect that crawls upon the ground. But his people are his own in a sense peculiar to themselves—his own in a sense in which others are not; his own, as given him by the Father, as purchased with his precious blood, and as being called by his Spirit; ‘his own,’ as being the members of his mystical body, and therefore standing in a nearer relation to him than angel or archangel. Oh, happy people, whom the Lord of glory regards as his own, his jewels, his peculiar treasure, his crown of rejoicing!

But the objects of this love are described not only as his own, but more particularly as his own that were in the world. Jesus had many of ‘his own’ that were now in glory; and doubtless these were objects of peculiar complacency and delight. Oh! see them in their white robes, as they shine so bright! Listen to their melodious songs! But still the precious truth for us is, that it was his own that were in the world, that he is here said to have loved. And why were they singled out from the rest? Why, but because of the peculiar difficulties and dangers to which they were exposed. Ask that tender-hearted mother which of her many children recurs oftenest to her memory—those of them who are safe at home under the parental roof, or the one that is far away at sea? And she will tell you, with tears in her eyes, that, while she loves them all, it is her sailor-boy who is exposed to so much danger. And just so, only in an unspeakably higher sense, while Jesus loves all his own, he regards with peculiar care, corresponding to their necessities, those of them that are still in the world. It is in this connection, that we see the full meaning of the contrast between his position and theirs. Jesus was now to depart out of the world, but they were to be left in it; and therefore his heart turned in love towards them.

And who can fail to recognise here, the close connection between the words of John and those of Christ himself in the intercessory prayer: ‘And now I am no more in the world, but these are in the world, and I come to thee’ (17:11). It is clear enough that the inspired Evangelist derives this part of his description from the words of his divine Master.

But without dwelling further on this idea here, is it not a most delightful and encouraging truth that, though Jesus is now in glory, yet he still regards his own that are in the world with peculiar care suited to their circumstances and necessities? Oh! think of this, you that go out and in amongst ungodly companions and that see and hear so many things that may well shock you if you have any spiritual life and tenderness. Jesus loves his own that are in the world still. But methinks, I hear some one say, ‘Alas! I feel that I am in the world, not only because of the sins of others, but because I sin myself; because I have “a body of death” within me, and often it breaks out in word and action’. Yes, indeed, but Jesus loves his own that are in the world still; he sees and knows all the sin and imperfection that you have to contend against, and yet he loves his own notwithstanding. ‘But, oh!’ says some one, ‘my case is of a different kind still: I have come hither today, burdened with a heavy heart’. It may be that it is some dear relative that is sick, and apparently near to death. All this proves that you are still in a world of sorrow. But then Jesus loves his own still and looks down upon them with ever watchful eye. This is the comfort of the Christian’s heart and the balm of his sorrow; and I call upon his own to lay hold of it, to keep to it, and not to let Satan deprive you of it. Jesus loved his own that were in the world, while he was here on earth, and he loves his own that are in the world still, though he is now in heaven.

But I come now, in the second place, to mention some of those ways in which Jesus had always previously manifested his love to them. For the sentence is so constructed and compacted as to imply that the Saviour’s whole previous history had been one of love: ‘Having loved his own that were in the world’—having always and previously loved them.

And here I might take occasion to speak somewhat of the great redeeming love of Christ to his own—those of them that were now in heaven, as well as those who were on earth—in undertaking our cause in the councils of peace; in the delight with which he looked forward, from all eternity, to the accomplishment of his work, ‘rejoicing in the habitable parts of God’s earth, and his delights with the children of men’ (Prov. 8:30, 31); and in his appearing in the fullness of the times to discharge the great engagement (Psa. 40:11). But clearly the inspired Evangelist is speaking here of Christ’s love to his own that were then in the world, as distinct from that part of the one great family that had already gone home to glory; and to this point, therefore, our attention must for the present be confined.

What, then, were some of those ways in which Jesus had specially manifested his love to his own that were then in the world as distinct from those who had already gone home? Indeed, his whole conduct towards them may be briefly summed up in these words: ‘He loved them’. He always loved them; and there was not a single word that he ever spake to them, or a single Jesus Loving His Own that were in the World action that he ever performed towards them, but it emanated from his love to them.

But more particularly here. See, for example, how, having once chosen them in his love, he ever afterwards proved his love by continual companionship with them. He sought no other company than theirs among the sons of men; unless it be that he often went to seek some strayed sheep, to bring it back into the fold. ‘My beloved is mine, and I am his; he feedeth among the lilies.’ See, too, how tenderly, how graciously he instructed them. His instructions were always very simple, because he loved them so well. They were exceedingly dull scholars, like you and me. There is no teacher on earth that would have borne with them as Jesus did; but their Lord and Master’s love remained always the same; his love was stronger than their unbelief and ignorance. See, moreover, how ready  he was to sympathise with them, and to render them every kind of assistance. Whenever they were in trouble, he was their willing and able Friend. When the sea roared and was tempestuous, and he slept, for a while, hard by the helm, they had only to awake him, and he rebuked the winds and the waves, and suddenly there was a great calm. When Peter’s wife’s mother lay sick of a fever, he did but enter the house, and speak the word, and immediately the fever left her. And when one of his dearest friends had passed beyond the ordinary bounds of life, and was not only dead, but had been four days buried, even then did he interpose, and prove that he was ‘the resurrection and the life,’ by crying, ‘Lazarus, come forth.’ Everywhere, and at all times, he was at the call of his disciples, ever ready to help them in every difficulty.

And, oh, with what patience did he bear with them in all their weaknesses and infirmities! On one or two occasions, indeed, certain of them were guilty of great impertinence. It was surely no small trial to the Redeemer’s love, when Peter took him and began to rebuke him. What a sight—Peter rebuking his Master! Ah! surely thy Lord will have done with thee now, thou son of Jonas! But no, though he used a strong expression, to rebuke a temptation which was manifestly Satanic: ‘Get thee behind me, Satan’, yet his love to Peter remained unabated. Even when he rebuked him, he loved him. Oh yes, his love never faltered nor failed. And who can tell in how many ways Jesus loves his own that are in the world still—visiting them with his gracious presence, instructing and guiding them by his word and Spirit, preserving them in his providence, strengthening them by his grace, comforting them with his love, and maturing them for his eternal glory?

But what I wish you specially to notice now is the steadfastness of this love—its unfailing and unflinching faithfulness, as in life so also in death. ‘He loved them unto the end’—not only to the end of life, but to the utmost extent, and under the most affecting circumstances. The meaning plainly is that as he had always previously loved them, so now, on the very verge of Jesus Loving His Own that were in the World his final sufferings, when it might be supposed that he would be wholly taken up with his own awful prospects, he was even then, so far from forgetting them that he scarcely seems ever to think of himself, save in connection with them. Herein is love, not only enduring unto the end, but moreover, most wondrously and conspicuously displayed, when, judging by a human standard, it was least to be expected. Oh, surpassing love of Jesus, with the fire of justice and the furnace of divine wrath, and the sea of his own blood—all, all in vivid array before him—he yet spends the last moments before his final sufferings in words and deeds of love to his disciples!

And if he thus loved them, in the view of the agonies of Gethsemane and the death of Calvary, think you does he now forget them—now that he has passed within the veil? Ah! no, it is impossible. He whose love the many waters of his own suffering could not quench, nor the floods drown (Song of Sol. 8:7), shall never cease to love his own that cling to him. And yet, what a wonderful truth is this, when we look at what we are! When we think of our sins and shortcomings—of our blackness, sinfulness, and vileness—what a wonder that his love is not exhausted! But no, the love of Christ to his own knows no change. It is a golden chain, without a single link amissing. Whom he has once set his heart upon, he will never cease to bless. And though we continually sin against him, and provoke him to jealousy, yet he loves his own still. For has he not said: ‘For the  mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee’ (Isa. 54:10). And again, ‘Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb?’ Can such a strange, unnatural thing as this happen? ‘Yea, she may forget’—this strange thing may happen—‘yet will not I forget thee.’ Oh! how can he forget them? ‘Behold, I have graven thee,’ says he—not merely stamped thee, but ‘graven thee upon the palms of my hands: thy walls are continually before me’ (Isa. 49:15, 16).

Oh! do not, therefore, child of God, get into the fainting fit of unbelief. For we have not to deal with a vacillating Saviour, who loves his people today and hates them tomorrow—a Saviour in whom I could have no confidence, and in whose existence I do not believe—but we have to deal with One who ‘is the same yesterday, today, and for ever,’ and who says: ‘I am Jehovah, I change not; therefore, ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.’

But I must also add, if Jesus Christ loved his own unto the end, then surely they ought to persevere in their love to him. Sometimes we become greatly warmed up, and we do a great deal very zealously. But, alas! how soon we grow cold again. Let some peculiar trial or cross come, and we soon give way. Surely it ought not to be so. It was not thus the blessed Master dealt with us; he remembered us in the hour of his trial. Oh, that his own love would constrain us to live upon him, and to live unto him!

But I have this also to say in closing, what misery must it be to be without such a Saviour! I scarcely know any words more terrible than these—to be without Christ. And yet I fear that, terrible as they are, they are applicable to some in this congregation. You have no interest in this heavenly friend, this mighty Saviour; your sins are still upon you: they are written down against you in the book of God’s remembrance; and you will soon have to appear in his presence. But yet there is hope; for Jesus is the friend of publicans and sinners. Come to him, ye weary; welcome to him, ye heavy laden. Oh that you would come to him now, and then shall you be able to sing of unchangeable and undying love.

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The Borders Conference 2024 will take place on November 8 and 9 in Carlisle, England.

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When the high priest under the law was about to enter the holy place on the day of atonement, he took in his hands sweet incense from the golden table of incense. He also had a censer filled with fire taken from the altar of burnt-offerings, where atonement was made for sin with blood. When he actually entered through the veil, he put the incense on the fire in the censer until the cloud of its smoke covered the ark and the mercy-seat (Lev. 16:12, 13). The reason why he did all this was to present to God, on behalf of the people, a sweet smell from the sacrifice of propitiation.

Corresponding to this mystical type, the great High Priest of the church, our Lord Jesus Christ, prayed when he was about to enter the holy place not made with hands (John 17). His glorious prayer, set alight by the blood of his sacrifice, filled the heavens above, the glorious place of God’s residence, with a cloud of incense, that is, the sweet smell of his blessed intercession. By the same eternal fire by which he offered himself a bloody sacrifice to make atonement for sin, he kindled in his most holy soul those desires, that all the benefits of his sacrifice should be given abundantly to his church.

The greatest desire that Christ expressed in his prayer was that his people might be with him to behold his glory ( John 17:24). It is clear that in this prayer the Lord Christ was referring to his own glory and the actual sight of it (John 17:4, 5). He is not concerned that his disciples should merely see how glorious he was, but that the beholding of his glory might bring encouragement, strength, satisfaction and blessedness to his disciples. This was the whole reason why his mediatory glory was given to him. When Joseph had revealed himself to his brothers, he charged them that they should tell his father of all his ‘glory in Egypt’ (Gen. 45:13). He did not do this to boast of his own glory, but because he knew how happy and satisfied his father would be when he knew in what a glorious position his son was. Similarly, the Lord Christ desired that his disciples should see his glory in order that they might be filled with joy and happiness for evermore.

Only a sight of his glory, and nothing else, will truly satisfy God’s people. The hearts of believers are like a magnetized needle which cannot rest until it is pointing north. So also, a believer, magnetized by the love of Christ, will always be restless until he or she comes to Christ and beholds his glory. The soul which can be satisfied without beholding the glory of Christ, that cannot be eternally satisfied with beholding the glory of Christ, is not a soul for whom Christ prays.

We can now lay down a great foundational truth: one of the greatest privileges the believer has, both in this world and for eternity, is to behold the glory of Christ. So Christ prays that ‘they may behold my glory.’ But this glorious privilege is not to be limited to the heavenly state only. It includes the state of believers in this world as I shall show. Unbelievers see no glory in Christ. They see nothing attractive about him. They despise him in their hearts. Outwardly they cry, like Judas, ‘Hail, Master,’ but in their hearts they crucify him. Thus they strip him of his glory, deny the ‘only Lord that bought us’ and substitute a false Christ. Others think little of Christ and his glory and see no use for his person in Christianity – as though there were anything in our religion which has any truth or reality apart from Christ!

In the early days of the church there were swarms of brain-sick persons who vomited out many foolish ideas culminating at length in Arianism, in whose ruins they now lie buried. The gates of hell in them did not prevail against the rock on which the church is built. As it was said of Caesar, ‘He alone went soberly about the destruction of the commonwealth,’ so many still oppose the person and glory of Christ under the pretence that nothing can be believed except that which reason can understand and accept. Indeed, unbelief in the Trinity, and the incarnation of the Son of God, the sole foundation of Christianity, is so spread about in the world, that it has almost demolished the life and power of true Christianity. And not a few who dare not let people know what they really believe lead people to think they love Jesus, when all the time they scorn, despise  and persecute those who truly desire to know nothing but Christ and him crucified.

But God, in his appointed time, will vindicate his honour and glory from the foolish attempts of sinful men who attempt to strip him of both. Meanwhile, it is the duty of all those who ‘love the Lord Jesus in sincerity’ to testify to his divine person and glory according to the ability God has given to each of us, and this I have chosen to do, not in a controversial way, but in order to strengthen the faith of true believers, to build them up in the knowledge of Christ and his glory and to help them experience that which they have, or may have, of the power and reality of these things.

That which I intend to show is, that beholding the glory of Christ is one of the greatest privileges that believers are capable of in this world, or even in that which is to come. Indeed, it is by beholding the glory of Christ that believers are first gradually transformed into his image, and then brought into the eternal enjoyment of it, because they shall be ‘for ever like him,’ for they ‘shall see him as he is’ (2 Cor. 3:18; 1 John 3:1, 2).

On this depend our present comforts and future blessedness. This is the life and reward of our souls (John 14:9; 2 Cor. 4:6). Scripture shows us two ways by which we may behold the glory of Christ. We may behold it by faith in this world, faith being ‘the evidence of things not seen,’ and we may behold it by sight in the next (2 Cor. 5:7, 8; 1 Cor. 13:12). When Christ prayed ‘that they may behold my glory,’ he meant by actual sight in the light of eternal glory. But the Lord Jesus does not exclude that sight of his glory which we may have by faith in this world; rather he prays for the perfection of it in heaven. So we can learn the following lessons:

No man shall ever behold the glory of Christ by sight in heaven who does not, in some measure, behold it by faith in this world. Grace is a necessary preparation for glory and faith for sight. The soul unprepared by grace and faith is not capable of seeing the glory of Christ in heaven. Many will say with confidence that they desire to be with Christ and to behold his glory. But when asked, they can give no reason for this desire, except that it would be better than going to hell. If a man claims to love and desire that which he never even saw, he is deceiving himself.

In this way Roman Catholics are deceived. They delight outwardly in images of Christ depicting his sufferings, resurrection and glory. By these images they think their love for him and delight in him grows more and more strong. But no man-made image can truly represent the person of Christ and his glory. Only the gospel can do that.

John writes not only of himself but of his fellow apostles also, ‘We beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth’ (John 1:14). Now what was this glory of Christ which they saw, and how did they see it?

It was not the glory of Christ’s outward condition for he had no earthly glory or grandeur. He kept no court, nor did he entertain people to parties in a great house. He had nowhere to lay his head, even though he created all things. There was nothing about his outward appearance that would attract the eyes of the world (Isa. 52:14; 53:2, 3). He appeared to others as a ‘man of sorrows.’

Neither was it the eternal essential glory of his divine nature that is meant, for this no man can see while in this world. What we shall see in heaven we cannot conceive.

What the apostles witnessed was the glory of ‘grace and truth.’ They saw the glory of Christ’s person and office in the administration of grace and truth. And how did they see this glory? It was by faith and in no other way, for this privilege was given only to those who ‘received him’ and believed on his name (John 1:12). This was the glory which the Baptist saw when he pointed to Christ and said, ‘Behold! the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!’ (John 1:29).

So, let no one deceive himself. He that has no sight of Christ’s glory here shall never see it hereafter. The beholding of Christ in glory is too high, glorious and marvellous for us in our present condition. The splendour of Christ’s glory is too much for our physical eyes just as is the sun shining in all its strength. So while we are here on earth we can behold his glory only by faith.

Many learned men have written of this future state of eternal glory. Some of their writings are filled with excellent things which cannot but stir the minds and hearts of all who read them. But many complain that such writings do nothing for them. They are like a man who ‘beholds his natural face in a mirror, and immediately forgets what he saw’ (James 1:23, 24). These writings make no fixed impression on their minds. They briefly refresh, like a shower of rain in a drought, which does not soak down to the roots. But why do these writings make no impression on them? Is it not because their idea of future things has not arisen out of an experience of them which faith alone gives?

In fact, a soul will be troubled rather than edified when it thinks of future glory, if it has had no foretaste, sense, experience or evidence of these things by faith. No man ought to look for anything in heaven if he has not by faith first had some experience of it in this life. If men were convinced of this, they would spend more time in the exercise of faith and love about heavenly things than they usually do. At present they do not know what they enjoy, so they do not know what to expect. This is why men who are complete strangers to seeing the person and glory of Christ by faith have turned to images, pictures and music to help them in their worship.

So it is only as we behold the glory of Christ by faith here in this world that our hearts will be drawn more and more to Christ and to the full enjoyment of the sight of his glory hereafter.

It is by beholding the glory of Christ by faith that we are spiritually edified and built up in this world, for as we behold his glory, the life and power of faith grow stronger and stronger. It is by faith that we grow to love Christ. So if we desire strong faith and powerful love, which give us rest, peace and satisfaction, we must seek them by diligently beholding the glory of Christ by faith. In this duty I desire to live and to die. On Christ’s glory I would fix all my thoughts and desires, and the more I see of the glory of Christ, the more the painted beauties of this world will wither in my eyes and I will be more and more crucified to this world. It will become to me like something dead and putrid, impossible for me to enjoy.

For these and other reasons, I shall first ask how we behold the glory of Christ by faith. Then I will try and lead believers into the more retired walks of faith, love and holy meditation, showing them how to behold the glory of Christ by faith. To encourage such study, consider the blessings it will bring us: the rewards of this glorious duty.

By beholding the glory of Christ we shall be made fit and ready for heaven. Not all who desire to go to heaven are fit and ready for it. Some are not only unworthy of it and excluded from it because of unforgiven sin; they are not prepared for it. Should they be admitted, they would never enjoy it. All of us naturally regard ourselves as fit for eternal glory. But few of us have any idea of how unfit we really are, because we have had no experience of that glory of Christ which is in heaven. Men shall not be clothed with glory, as it were, whether they want to be or not. It is to be received only by faith. But fallen man is incapable of believing. Music cannot please a deaf man, nor can beautiful colours impress a blind man. A fish would not thank you for taking it out of the sea and putting it on dry land under the blazing sun! Neither would an unregenerate sinner welcome the thought of living for ever in the blazing glory of Christ.

So Paul gives ‘thanks to the Father who has qualified us to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light’ (Col. 1:12). Indeed, the first touches of glory here, and the fullness of glory hereafter, are communicated to believers by an almighty act of the will and the grace of God. Nevertheless, he has ordained ways and means by which they may be made fit to receive that fullness of glory which still awaits them, and this way and means is by beholding the glory of Christ by faith, as we shall see. Knowing this should stir us up to our duty, for all our present glory lies in preparing for future glory.

By beholding the glory of Christ we shall be transformed ‘into the same image’ (2 Cor. 3:18). How this is done and how we become like Christ by beholding his glory, will become clear as our study progresses.

By beholding the glory of Christ by faith we shall find rest to our souls. Our minds are apt to be filled with troubles, fears, cares, dangers, distresses, ungoverned passions and lusts. By these our thoughts are filled with chaos, darkness and confusion. But where the soul is fixed on the glory of Christ then the mind finds rest and peace for ‘to be spiritually minded is peace’ (Rom. 8:6).

By beholding the glory of Christ we shall begin to experience what it means to be everlastingly blessed. ‘We shall always be with the Lord’ (1 Thess. 4:17). We shall ‘be with Christ,’ which is best of all (Phil. 1:23). For there we shall ‘behold his glory’ (John 17:24). And by seeing him as he is, ‘we shall be made like him’ (1 John 3:2). This is our everlasting blessedness.

The enjoyment of God by sight is commonly called the ‘Beatific Vision,’ and it is the only motive for everything we do in that state of blessedness. What the sight of God is and how we will react to it, we cannot imagine. Nevertheless we do know this, that God in his immense essence is invisible to our physical eyes and will be in eternity just as he will always be incomprehensible to our minds. So the sight which we shall have of God will be always ‘in the face of Jesus Christ’ (2 Cor. 4:6). In Christ’s face we shall see the glory of God in his infinite perfections. These things will shine into our souls filling us for ever with peace, rest and glory.

We can rejoice in these things even though we cannot understand them. We can talk of them but never fully comprehend them. In fact, true believers experience a foresight and foretaste of this glorious condition. Sometimes, when reading and meditating on the Bible our hearts are filled with such a sense of the uncreated glory of God shining through Jesus Christ that we experience unspeakable joy. So arises that ‘peace of God which passes all understanding,’ which keeps ‘our hearts and minds through Jesus Christ’ (Phil. 4:7). ‘Christ’ in believers ‘the hope of glory’ (Col. 1:27) gives them a foretaste of that future glory. And where any have no acquaintance with these things, they are blind and dead to spiritual things. It is because believers are lazy and ignorant that we do not experience more and more in our souls the visits of grace and the dawnings of eternal glory.

In the following chapters we will consider the following questions: What is that glory of Christ which we can behold by faith? How do we behold the glory of Christ by faith? And how is our beholding Christ by faith different from our actually seeing his glory in heaven?

Featured Photo by Robert Bye on Unsplash

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This year’s conference brought together a variety of different people—several ministers, but also individuals and families, including babies and teenagers, working men and women as well as the retired from various local congregations. It had a refreshingly non-metropolitan feel about it.

The format is a simple one, with two sessions on the Friday evening, followed by a further four on Saturday.

The theme of the conference this year was ‘The Beauty of God’, and this was expanded in Jonty Rhodes’ twin addresses. The minister of Christ Church Central, Leeds (IPC) spoke first on ‘The Beauty of God in the Face of Jesus Christ’, and continued the next day with ‘The Beauty of God in the Horror of Calvary’. Among other things, Mr Rhodes spoke of the tendency towards ‘edutainment’ in some schools of contemporary preaching, and the real need for Christians to be led to gaze, and meditate upon the beauty of the Lord (Psa. 27:4). Calling upon Samuel Rutherford and speaking of the biblical passages which proclaim God’s beauty as ‘jewels’, these were indeed messages which stimulated such meditation, and set the mind on things above.

One of the planned speakers, Robert McCollum Jr, was unable to attend at the last minute, and so Jonathan Watson, the Trust’s Editorial Director, delivered an address entitled ‘Learning from C. H. Spurgeon: Aiming for Conversions in Your Preaching.’ You can’t go wrong with a bit of Spurgeon to warm the soul on a dark Friday night in November!

David Campbell, minister of North Preston Evangelical Church, proved an excellent storyteller as he narrated the lives of the ‘Cambridge Seven’, those young men ‘with the world at their feet’ who gave themselves to overseas missionary service. In these seven men, including C. T. Studd and Stanley Smith, we are brought face to face with the challenge to live consecrated lives. The strength of their devotion was held up as a pathway to fruitful Christian service, and Mr Campbell impressed upon the young who were present the importance of good Christian friendships, and the way in which our lives can tell on others for good.

Saturday afternoon provided an opportunity to hear from various people about work going on in different locations. Chaired by John Rawlinson, the General Manager of the Trust, this was a particularly encouraging time as representatives reported on real-life ministry in places that are in many cases ‘off the beaten track’, whether that be Stranraer in the deep southwest of Scotland, or the small village of Charlesworth on the edge of the Peak District. It was a reminder that the Lord is at work in such places, and of the need to pray for more labourers. With Jonty Rhodes having already departed by the afternoon, Andrew Kuey, the Assistant Minister of International Presbyterian Church Ealing (London), who was visiting family in the region, was able to step in and speak about the wider work of the IPC, the denomination to which Christ Church Central in Leeds belonged. David Campbell also reported on his church’s partnership with the Open-Air Mission in the Preston area, and George Curry gave an update on the Newcastle-based Christian Institute’s current work in the public sphere.

To close the conference, John Rawlinson stepped in to cover the final session, and delivered an address intriguingly entitled ‘More of Christ: Ryle’s Verses’. When J. C. Ryle was vicar of Stradbroke in Suffolk, as part of a renovation of the church he had four verses painted on the large roof beams of the old building, so that whoever was in the pulpit could not help but see them. These were Ephesians 2:8 (‘For by grace are ye saved through faith’); 1 John 2:1 (‘we have an advocate with the Father’); Ephesians 1:7 (‘we have redemption through his blood’); and Luke 13:24 (‘Strive to enter in at the strait gate’). Taking these verses as the sermon outline, Mr Rawlinson went on to encourage those gathered to know more of Christ, to see him ready and willing to save, to know more of him as our Saviour and friend, and to know more of him as our example for living.

This year’s Borders Conference is planned to take place on November 8 & 9, 2024. Please do consider joining us if you live in the region.

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‘The wisest of women builds her house, but folly with her own hands tears it down.’ Proverbs 14:1

The mainline Protestant denominations (Episcopal, Methodist, Presbyterian) are discussing homosexuality with a view to transforming their bodies into more ‘tolerant’, more ‘diverse’, and more ‘inclusive’ organizations. This, any way, is how the advocates of the gay agenda present their programme for change in the churches.

What is the central issue? Simply this: shall homosexuality be normalized? Shall sexual relations between members of the same sex be viewed by the churches as legitimate, acceptable, even as desirable, in the same sense as are sexual relations between married people of the opposite sex? The full implementing of this principle of normalization would mean that homosexual acts would no longer be considered sinful, and practicing homosexuals would be granted full ecclesiastical equality, including the right to serve as ministers and church leaders. Further, children in the church’s educational program would not and could not be taught to prefer one “orientation” or “lifestyle” over another. Little Johnny and Suzie would be taught simply that Heather Has Two Mommies, as a proposed New York City elementary schoolbook famously and nonjudgmentally explained. Enlightened churches would define Christian virtue as loving and accepting those who are different. Conversely sin would be defined as the opposite: judging, condemning, or rejecting alternate lifestyles.

It is silly to argue that Scripture can be reconciled with these views. It can’t. The laws of God (Leviticus 18:22; 20:13) and the laws of nature (Romans 1:24ff), the Old Testament moral code and the New Testament law of love (1 Corinthians 6:9) unambiguously condemn homosexual acts as unnatural, corrupt, and perverse. Common sense, the design of nature, and scriptural teaching agree that the defining acts of homosexuality can never be considered moral or normal. For a man to desire to sodomize or be sodomized by another man is both bizarre and evil. The same can be said for all other forms of sexual contact between members of the same sex.

We know that erotic desire can be misplaced and corrupted. There are names for these various forms of perversion that are too awful to contemplate: bestiality, necrophilia, paedophilia, to name a few. Homosexuality is another example of the same. It is misplaced and therefore perverted erotic desire. Certain forms of sexual expression are inherently evil. The Christian church has always known and taught this, and preached a gospel that calls for repentance and promises deliverance from the power of sin: “and such were some of you” (1 Corinthians 5:11).

Normalizing the perverse has never been an option, partly because one cannot be delivered from that which is not considered deviant. Yet the pressure of our cultural movement toward inclusion and acceptance is so powerful that the denominations seem disinclined to draw any moral line anywhere. It appears that there no longer remains any behaviour which mainline Protestants are willing to call sexually perverse. It seems that the category of sin in sexual relations has disappeared altogether.

The great old American Protestant establishment, the once wise mother church of most American Protestants, is pursuing a course of self-destruction. In Savannah respected churches with evangelical traditions are allowing practicing homosexuals to participate in leadership and even to teach in Sunday School and lead Bible studies.

If the mainline denominations persist and re-classify homosexuality as moral and acceptable and normalize homosexual acts, they will apostatize or de-church themselves, and ecclesiastical calamity will ensue. Right now the proverbial “man in the pew” is scratching his head wondering what his denominational leaders and bureaucrats can possibly be thinking!? The laity is shocked! Shocked! They shouldn’t be. The denominational seminaries abandoned biblical authority fifty years ago or more. The strategy of their graduates in the pulpit has been to lay low, to keep their skepticism to themselves. But the issue of homosexuality is “outing” unbelieving clergy, exposing the rotting core of the old mainline that no longer takes the Bible seriously. American Protestantism has become the foolish woman, tearing down its house with its own hands. Let us pray that God mercifully will call it back from the brink of ecclesiastical suicide.

Terry Johnson is the pastor of the Independent Presbyterian Church in Savannah, Georgia, (www.ipcsav.org) and is the author of the Banner of Truth book The Case for Traditional Protestantism.

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17 Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth. 18 As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world. 19 And for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be  sanctified through the truth. 20 Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word; 21 That they all may be one: as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. 22 And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one: 23 I in them, and thou in me, that they
may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me. 24 Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am: that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me: for thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world. 25 O righteous Father, the world hath not known thee: but I have known thee, and these have known that thou hast sent me. 26 And I have declared unto them thy name, and will declare it: that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them. (John 17:17–26).

THESE wonderful verses form a fitting conclusion of the most wonderful prayer that was ever prayed on earth,—the last Lord’s prayer after the first Lord’s supper. They contain three most important petitions which our Lord offered up in behalf of his disciples. On these three petitions let us fix our attention. Passing by all other things in the passage, let us look steadily at these three points. We should mark, first, how Jesus prays that his people may be sanctified. ‘Sanctify them,’ he says, ‘through thy truth: thy word is truth.’ We need not doubt that, in this place at any rate, the word ‘sanctify’ means ‘make holy.’ It is a prayer that the Father would make his people more holy, more spiritual, more pure, more saintly in thought and word and deed, in life and character. Grace had done something for the disciples already,—called, converted, renewed, and changed them. The great Head of the church prays that the work of grace may be carried higher and further, and that his people may be more thoroughly sanctified and made holy in body, soul, and spirit,—in fact more like himself. Surely we need not say much to show the matchless wisdom of this prayer. More holiness is the very thing to be desired for all servants of Christ. Holy living is the great proof of the reality of Christianity. Men may refuse to see the truth of our arguments, but they cannot evade the evidence of a godly life. Such a life adorns religion and makes it beautiful, and sometimes wins those who are not ‘won by the Word.’ Holy living trains Christians for heaven. The nearer we live to God while we live, the more ready shall we be to dwell for ever in his presence when we die. Our entrance into heaven will be entirely by grace, and not of works; but heaven itself would be no heaven to us if we entered it with an unsanctified character. Our hearts must be in tune for heaven if we are to enjoy it. There must be a moral ‘meetness for the inheritance of the saints in light,’ as well as a title. Christ’s blood alone can give us a title to enter the inheritance. Sanctification must give us a capacity to enjoy it. Who, in the face of such facts as these, need wonder that increased sanctification should be the first thing that Jesus asks for his people? Who that is really taught of God can fail to know that holiness is happiness, and that those who walk with God most closely, are always those who walk with him most comfortably? Let no man deceive us with vain words in this matter. He who despises holiness, and neglects good works, under the vain pretence of giving honour to justification by faith, shows plainly that he has not the mind of Christ.

We should mark, secondly, in these verses, how Jesus prays for the unity and oneness of his people. ‘That they all may be one,—that they may be one in us,—that they may be one even as we are one,’—and ‘that so the world may believe and know that thou hast sent me,’— this is a leading petition in our Lord’s prayer to his Father. We can ask no stronger proof of the value of unity among Christians, and the sinfulness of division, than the great prominence which our Master assigns to the subject in this passage. How painfully true it is that in every age divisions have been the scandal of religion, and the weakness of the church of Christ! How often Christians have wasted their strength in contending against their brethren, instead of contending against sin and the devil! How repeatedly they have given occasion to the world to say, ‘When you have settled your own internal differences we will believe!’ All this, we need not doubt, the Lord Jesus foresaw with prophetic eye. It was the foresight of it which made him pray so earnestly that believers might be ‘one.’ Let the recollection of this part of Christ’s prayer abide in our minds, and exercise a constant influence on our behaviour as Christians. Let no man think lightly, as some men seem to do, of schism, or count it a small thing to multiply sects, parties, and denominations. These very things, we may depend, only help the devil and damage the cause of Christ. ‘If it be possible, as much as lieth in us, let us live peaceably with all men’ (Rom. 12:18). Let us bear much, concede much, and put up with much, before we plunge into secessions and separations. They are movements in which there is often much false fire. Let rabid zealots who delight in sect-making and party-forming, rail at us and denounce us if they please. We need not mind them. So long as we have Christ and a good conscience, let us patiently hold on our way, follow the things that make for peace, and strive to promote unity. It was not for nothing that our Lord prayed so fervently that his people might be ‘one.’

We should mark, finally, in these verses, how Jesus prays that his people may at last be with him and behold his glory. ‘I will,’ he says, ‘that those whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am: that they may behold my glory.’ This is a singularly beautiful and touching conclusion to our Lord’s remarkable prayer. We may well believe that it was meant to cheer and comfort those who heard it, and to strengthen them for the parting scene which was fast drawing near. But for all who read it even now, this part of his prayer is full of sweet and unspeakable comfort. We do not see Christ now. We read of him, hear of him, believe in him, and rest our souls in his finished work. But even the best of us, at our best, walk by faith and not by sight, and our poor halting faith often makes us walk very feebly in the way to heaven. There shall be an end of all this state of things one day. We shall at length see Christ as he is, and know as we have been known. We shall behold him face to face, and not through a glass darkly. We shall actually be in his presence and company, and go out no more. If faith has been pleasant, much more will sight be; and if hope has been sweet, much more will certainty be. No wonder that when St Paul has written, ‘We shall ever be with the Lord,’ he adds, ‘Comfort one another with these words’ (1 Thess. 4:17, 18). We know little of heaven now. Our thoughts are all confounded, when we try to form an idea of a future state in which pardoned sinners shall be perfectly happy. ‘It does not yet appear what we shall be’ (1 John 3:2). But we may rest ourselves on the blessed thought, that after death we shall be ‘with Christ.’ Whether before the resurrection in paradise, or after the resurrection in final glory, the prospect is still the same. True Christians shall be ‘with Christ.’ We need no more information. Where that blessed person is who was born for us, died for us, and rose again, there can be no lack of anything. David might well say, ‘In thy presence is fulness of joy, and at thy right hand are pleasures for evermore’ (Psa. 16:11). Let us leave this wonderful prayer with a solemn recollection of the three great petitions which it contains. Let holiness and unity by the way, and Christ’s company in the end, be subjects never long out of our thoughts or distant from our minds. Happy is that Christian who cares for nothing so much as to be holy and loving like his Master, while he lives, and a companion of his Master when he dies.

Ryle’s Notes on John 17:24

24.—[Father, I will … my glory … given me.] In this verse our Lord names the fourth and last thing which he desires for his disciples in his prayer. After preservation, sanctification, and unity, comes participation of his glory. He asks that they may be ‘with him’ in the glory yet to be revealed, and ‘behold,’ share, and take part in it. ‘I will’ is a remarkable phrase, though it must not be pressed and strained too far (see Mark 10:35). The daughter of Herodias asking the head of John the Baptist, said, ‘I will that thou give me’ (Mark 6:25). It may be nothing more than the expression of a strong ‘wish.’ Yet it is the wish of him who is one with the Father, and only wills what the Father wills. It is probably used to assure the mind of the disciples. ‘I will,’ and it will be done. Hutcheson says, ‘I will,’ doth not import any imperious commanding way, repugnant to his former way of humble supplication; but it only imports that in this his supplication, he was making his last will and testament, and leaving his legacies, which he was sure would be effectual, being purchased by his merits, and prosecuted by his affectionate and earnest requests and intercessions.’

Traill remarks, ‘Christians, behold the amazing difference betwixt Christ’s way of praying against his own hell (if I may so call it) and his praying for our heaven! When praying for himself, it is, “Father, if it be thy will, let this cup pass from me.” But when Christ is praying for his people’s heaven, it is “Father, I will that they may be with me.”’

Stier maintains that ‘I will’ ‘is no other than a testamentary word of the Son, who in the unity of the Father, is appointing what he wills, at that second limit of the prayer where petition ceases.’ Alford says ‘this is an expression of will founded on acknowledged right.’ The expression, ‘be with me where I am,’ is one of those deeply interesting phrases which show the nature of the future dwelling place of believers. Wherever it may be, whether before or after the resurrection, it will be in the company of Christ. It is like ‘with me in paradise,’ ‘depart and be with Christ,’ and ‘for ever with the Lord’ (Luke 23:43; Phil. 1:23; 1 Thess. 4:17). The full nature of the future state is wisely hidden from us. It is enough for believers to know that they will be ‘with Christ.’ It is company, and not place, which makes up happiness. Traill remarks, ‘Heaven consists in the perfect immediate presence of Christ. Perfect presence is, when all on both sides is present: all of Christ, and all of the Christian. But now all of Christ is not with us, and all of us is not with him. On his part we have Christ’s Spirit, word, and grace. On our part there is present with him our hearts, and the workings of our faith and love and desire towards him. But this presence is imperfect, and mixed with much distance and absence.’ The expression, ‘behold my glory,’ of course must not be confined to the idea of ‘looking on as spectators.’ It includes participation, sharing, and common enjoyment (compare John 3:3, 36; 8:51; Rev. 18:7). The expression, ‘which thou hast given me,’ seems to point to that special glory which the Father, in everlasting covenant, has appointed for Christ as the reward of the work of redemption (Phil. 2:9).

[For thou lovedst me … foundation … world.] This sentence seems specially inserted in order to show that the glory of Christ in the next world is a glory which had been prepared from all eternity, before time began, and before the creation of man, and that it was not only something which, like Moses or John the Baptist, he had obtained by his faithfulness on earth; but something which he had, as the eternal Son of the eternal Father, from everlasting. ‘Thou lovedst me, and didst assign me this glory long before this world was made,’ that is, from all eternity. This is a very deep saying, and contains things far above our full comprehension.

The post J. C. Ryle on John 17:24 appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

In the late 1950s Humphrey was a student at London Bible College, a reader of the early Banner of Truth Magazine, and someone who was both influenced by and came to love Puritan writings. Like a number of students, Humphrey volunteered his spare time to work at the Banner of Truth in Chiltern Street. Following on from his student days, he then became a full-time employee of the Trust.

I recently came across a note from one of my predecessors who was assessing the staff at that time and passed the comment that there were times when perhaps more work could be done if there was a little less theological discussion! Humphrey was one of that early group of employees who were excited by and dedicated to the rediscovery of the Reformed faith that was taking place.

Over the years, Humphrey was involved in many aspects of the work of the Trust. He was influential in developing contacts in the USA, which eventually led to the formation of the Banner of Truth organisation and building of offices and warehouse in Carlisle, PA. But perhaps the thing that he was most influential in was his exacting standards when it came to book production. Today, we aim to produce books that are known for the quality of their content, but also books that are known for the quality of their production; books that by their physical appearance and construction speak well of the high value that we place on their contents. Humphrey set himself to attain production standards that it has been said were ‘unrivalled in the book world’. Those standards that Humphrey set are still part of the Banner of Truth Trust DNA today.

When the Banner of Truth moved to Edinburgh in 1972, Humphrey moved too. And the move was to bring more change to the life of Humphrey. Known in the office as a ‘confirmed bachelor’ he found his heart won over by a young lady, and Humphrey and Ruth were married and in time God blessed their marriage with four children.

Humphrey also became one of many men who have worked at the Banner, and then gone on into the ministry. Initially, he was called as the part-time pastor of Bellevue Reformed Baptist church in Edinburgh, before going full-time after his retirement from the Banner of Truth in Oct/Nov 1999.

In time, Humphrey was to leave Edinburgh and move back South to England and while the inevitability of passing time and geographic distance meant that in recent years our contacts with him were much reduced, we are grateful to him for his contributions to the work of the Trust during his 40 years or so of service, and the memories that we have.

It was a pleasure to have worked with him and a privilege to have known him, and while sympathising with his family in their loss, we are also rejoicing with them in the knowledge that Humphrey is now in the presence of his Saviour, whose gospel he did so much to promote during his years of life here on earth.

The post Humphrey Mildred (1934–2023), A Tribute appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

‘What a world of new sensations and emotions come with the first child!’

EVER SINCE she was a little girl Elizabeth loved babies. Looking back, her friend Carrie noted that one of Elizabeth’s most striking traits as a teenager was ‘a perfect passion for babies’. She ‘revelled in tending, kissing and playing with them’. She was overjoyed when her first child, Annie, was born in December 1846, a year and a half after her marriage to George. Like many new mothers, she lay awake at nights just to watch and marvel at her beautiful daughter. She wrote to a friend:

What a world of new sensations and emotions come with the first child! I was quite unprepared for the rush of strange feelings … I dare say the idea of Lizzy Payson with a baby seems quite funny to you, as it does to many of the Portland girls, but I assure you it doesn’t seem in the least funny to me, but as natural as life and … as wonderful, almost. She is a nice little plump creature, with a fine head of dark hair which I take some comfort in brushing round a quill to make it curl, and a pair of intelligent eyes, either black or blue, nobody knows which. I find the care of her very wearing, and have cried ever so many times from fatigue and anxiety, but now I am getting a little better and she pays me for all I do. She is a sweet, good little thing, her chief fault being a tendency to dissipation and sitting up late o’nights. The ladies of our church have made her a beautiful little wardrobe, fortunately for me.¹

Since Elizabeth was quite a distance from her own mother, several of the older women in the church took a motherly interest in her, making sure she had every thing she needed and visiting often with little treats for her as well as gifts for the baby. Sadly, Annie’s arrival was overshadowed by the critical illness of George’s older sister Abby. Only thirty-two years old, she had been ill for some time with tuberculosis. She was near to death when Annie was born and Elizabeth was unable to travel up to Portland to say her final farewell. George was called up to his old home in January. He wrote to Elizabeth:

I found dear Abby still alive, and [she] rejoiced beyond expression to see me. She had had a very feeble night, but brightened up towards noon, and when I arrived seemed entirely like her old self, smiling sweetly and exclaiming ‘This is the last blessing I desired! Oh, how good the Lord is, isn’t He?’ It was very delightful… Mother is wonderfully calm and happy, and the house seems like the very gate of heaven … I so wish you could have seen Abby’s smile when I entered her room. And then she enquired so affectionately for you and baby. ‘Now tell me everything about them.’ She longs and prays to be gone. There is something perfectly childlike about her expressions and feelings, especially towards mother. She can’t bear to have her leave the room and holds her hand a good deal of the time. She sends ever so much love.²

Abby died on 30 January 1847, nearly two months after Annie was born. Elizabeth had loved Abby dearly, and grieved much for her loss, but she also felt deeply for her husband, his other sister Anna, and the other members of the family. She wrote to Anna expressing her feeling that Abby’s loss had taken away her own youth and that she could never again be so light-hearted and carefree as before. For a time she dreamed about Abby every night. On 11 April 1847 George noted that he ‘Baptized Anna Louisa, who behaved sweetly. It was a great joy to Elizabeth and myself, thus publicly to dedicate her to the Lord.’ In the autumn, George made an extended visit to Maine to preach as well as to see family. Elizabeth sorely missed him and wrote (at length!) daily:

Friday, September 3, 1847. Yesterday forenoon I was perfectly wretched. It came over me, as things will in spite of us, ‘Suppose he didn’t get safely to Brunswick!’ and for several hours I could not shake it off. It had all the power of reality, and made me so faint that I could do nothing , and fairly had to go to bed. I suppose it was very silly, and if I had not tried in every way to rise above it might have been even wicked, but it frightened me to find how much I am under the power of mere feeling and fancy. But do not laugh at me. Sometimes I say to my self, ‘What madness to love any human being so intensely! What would become of you if he were snatched from you?’ and then I think that though God justly denies us comfort and support for the future, and bids us lean upon Him now and trust Him for the rest, He can give us strength for the endurance of His most terrible chastisements when their hour comes.³

Twenty-one months after the birth of Annie, Elizabeth gave birth to a little boy whom she named Edward Payson after her late father. This second pregnancy had been overshadowed by the critical illness of her mother. Mrs Payson spent the final months of her life in Williamstown, being cared for by her older daughter Louisa. She suffered greatly, and Elizabeth fretted constantly. She feared that her mother’s real condition was being concealed from her – which it was. Mrs Payson went downhill rapidly just at the time that Elizabeth gave birth to Eddy in October 1848. Within three weeks of the birth, Mrs Payson died, and Elizabeth was distraught that she had been unable to go and say goodbye . The shock of her mother’s death contributed, she believed, to her own incapacity to nurse her baby satisfactorily, and his subsequent weakness. She felt strongly that it had been wrong to deceive her as to her mother’s true condition. In future she always advocated honesty in such situations. Elizabeth now dreamed about both her mother and sister-in-law Abby every night. Her mind was also filled with worries for her brothers. In 1848 gold was discovered on the banks of the Sacramento river in California, and there followed a mass migration of men from the northern states hoping to make their fortune in the west. Among them were three of Elizabeth’s four brothers. Life was rough and hard, but for some the rewards were great. Elizabeth fretted about the conditions they worked in, the rough company they kept, and all the temptations of these primitive mining communities. It just made her flesh crawl, she wrote, to think of them involved in such gruelling physical labour all day. All this stress was compounded by her baby boy’s chronic colic. It seemed that he screamed incessantly for months. His exhausted parents tried everything they could think of but usually resorted to walking up and down with the infant. Elizabeth recalled years later: ‘Your sister’s allusion to Watts and Select Hymns reminds me of ages long past, when I used to sing the whole book through as I marched, night after night through my room, carrying a colicky baby up and down for fifteen months until I became a living skeleton.’

Such few hours of relief as they enjoyed were only achieved by giving Eddy laudanum (opium, commonly used at that time for pain relief). These trying months sapped what little strength Elizabeth had, her weight dropping to less than seven stone (45 kg). Her sleep patterns were permanently broken and she suffered from insomnia for the rest of her life. She found the demands of day and night exhausting. No longer could she maintain her routine devotional times. In a letter to Anna she wrote: ‘By far the greatest trial I have to contend with, is that of losing all power to control my time. A little room of my own, and a regular hour morning and night, all of my own would enable me, I think, to say ‘Now let life do it’s worst!’ Lamenting the poverty of her spiritual state she began to miss those rich devotional hours of her time in Richmond. George tried to comfort her, telling her that the Richmond years had been the time for contemplation: this season of her life was for action. God would not demand of her a consistency in prayer that was simply impractical. But despite her husband’s best efforts Elizabeth still felt miserable. Throughout her life Elizabeth felt a desolation of spirit if she could not enjoy communion with God. Space and time for reflection and prayer was necessary she believed if she was to have such closeness with her Lord. When illness or sleeplessness interrupted her routine, she seemed to suffer what can only be described as physical withdrawal symptoms. When Eddy was eight months old he was still hardly sleeping, and the doctor ordered that Elizabeth be allowed to get away from home for a while. Unless she could get some rest, he feared for her life. She agreed to go away for a week, but ended up staying away for a month. Eddy was left in the care of relatives, neighbours, and a nurse. (At that time, middle class families often employed a ‘nurse’ , if they could afford to, to care for young children. These women were not trained nurses as we think of them today. They were unqualified, and varied enormously in their commitment and efficiency. We would probably refer to them as ‘nursemaids’). One of the weeks away was spent with Anna and her family at Newburyport, with George and Annie joining them. Seargent, George’s brother, came up from his home in the south with his wife Mary, and their four children⁴. Mrs Prentiss, George’s mother, was also there, making it a most enjoyable family reunion. But when Elizabeth, somewhat stronger, returned home, Eddy was no better. She realized that he was seriously unwell, and at this point she gave him over to God. When he rallied and regained strength, she felt as if another child had been restored to her – not her own child, but God’s. From that time on every day was precious. Each morning, Elizabeth thanked God that Eddy was still alive. She kept a journal of all he did, and as he began to talk, all he said as well. She sensed that she would not have him much longer, and would need tangible reminders of his brief life. Eddy was a delightful toddler. Once he was walking, it seemed as if he was everywhere all at once, quick as lightning in his movements and full of enthusiasm. ‘It is worth a good deal to see his face’, wrote his mother proudly; ‘it is so brimful of life and sunshine and gladness.’ Even though the family employed a nurse to look after the children, Elizabeth did not really get much stronger. Her hands reminded her of claws, they looked so scrawny. On average, three days of every week was spent prostrated with a sick headache. In such a condition she could not eat and began to worry about how the household was going to pieces around her. She also fretted about the family finances, as her ill health meant that more was being spent on ‘help’ than they could afford. However, even in these depressing circumstances she did not lose sight of God’s plan for her life. Writing to George she confessed:

I can truly say that I have not spent a happier winter since our marriage, in spite of all my sickness. It seems to me I can never recover my spirits and be as I have been in my best days, but what I lose in one way perhaps I shall gain in another. Just think how my ambition has been crushed at every point by my ill-health, and even the ambition to be useful and a comfort to those about me is trampled underfoot, to teach me what I could not have learned in any other school!⁵

Editor’s Note: we pick up the narrative in 1851, when the family had relocated to New York…

During their first autumn in New York, Elizabeth was overjoyed to see her three brothers, returned from their prospecting for gold in California. The Prentiss home was large enough for several visitors. George and Elizabeth also regularly took the children over to Newark to visit George’s mother. By December, Eddy’s health was giving cause for concern and Elizabeth was consumed with anxiety about her son. He grew weaker and weaker. By January he had succumbed to what seems to have been meningitis. He did not sleep at all for the last week of his life. This was a terrible time for all the family. They all knew what was coming. Even Annie tried to comfort her little brother in the face of death. When he said ‘I don’t want to die’, his mother replied, ‘Why? You know it is a great deal pleasanter in heaven than it is here … Little boys don’t have the headache there. I should love dearly to go if God said I might.’ ‘Yes’, Annie joined in, ‘Don’t you know how we used to sing about the happy land?’ Eddy kept asking for Annie, but his sister got so distressed that they didn’t always let her see him. There are harrowing day-by-day descriptions of Eddy’s last days in Elizabeth’s book, How Sorrow Was Changed into Sympathy.⁶ His suffering was exacerbated by the treatments prescribed by the doctors, including the application of painful mustard plasters. Part of Elizabeth’s journal reads: On Sunday morning, January 4, not being able to come himself, Dr Buck sent Dr Watson in his place. I told Dr W that I thought Eddy had water on the brain; he said it was not so, and ordered nothing but a warm bath. On Thursday, January 8, while Margaret [the nursemaid] was at dinner, I knelt by the side of the cradle, rocking it very gently, and he asked me to tell him a story. I asked what about, and he said, ‘A little boy’, on which I said something like this: ‘Mamma knows a dear little boy who was very sick. His head ached and he felt sick all over. God said, I must let that little lamb come into my fold; then his head will never ache again, and he will be a very happy little lamb.’ I used the words little lamb because he was so fond of them. Often he would run to his nurse with his face full of animation and say, ‘Marget! Mamma says I am her little lamb!’ While I was telling him this story his eyes were fixed intelligently on my face. I then said, ‘Would you like to know the name of this boy?’ With eagerness he said, ‘Yes, yes, Mamma!’ Taking his dear little hand in mine, and kissing it, I said, ‘It was Eddy.’ Just then his nurse came in and his attention was diverted, so I said no more. On Friday, January 16, his little weary sighs became more profound, and, as the day advanced, more like groans; but appeared to indicate extreme fatigue, rather than severe pain. Towards night his breathing became quick and laborious, and between seven and eight slight spasms agitated his little feeble frame. He uttered cries of distress for a few minutes, when they ceased, and his loving and gentle spirit ascended to that world where thousands of holy children and the blessed company of angels and our blessed Lord Jesus, I doubt not, joyfully welcomed him. Now we were able to say, ‘It is well with the child!’⁷ The funeral was held the following Monday, and Dr Skinner led the service. The choir sang ‘Thy will be done’, which Elizabeth said was ‘like cold water to thirsty souls.’⁸ She was submissive, writing the well-known words in her journal: “‘Oh”, said the gardener, as he passed down the garden-walk, “who plucked that flower?” His fellow-servants answered, “The Master!” And the gardener held his peace.’ She was also grateful for the support which friends and family had given. Her young cousin Louisa Shipman had been there for her throughout, and Mrs Bull moved in during the final week or so to provide nursing care at night. She later said ‘I used to think I could never endure to lose a child, but you see how it is. God does carry us through whatever he pleases.’⁹

Sharon James’ biography Elizabeth Prentiss: More Love to Thee is available this week at 20% off.

The featured photo, by Kyle Bradbury on Unsplash, was taken in New Bedford, Massachussetts, where George Prentiss was pastor of South Trinitarian Church from 1845.

The post ‘God Never Makes a Mistake’: The Experience of Elizabeth Prentiss appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Early in their married life, Elizabeth and her husband, George suffered the loss of two of their six children. Eddie died aged five and Bessie died when just a few weeks old. In addition, Elizabeth experienced ongoing ill-health and insomnia through much of her life.  In 1857, George temporarily resigned his pastorate of a large New York church due to a health breakdown brought on by overwork. Shortly after he and Elizabeth resumed their pastoral duties in 1860, the Civil War commenced (1862-5) with all the accompanying heartbreak and suffering.

Elizabeth was a prolific writer of letters, stories, poems, hymns, novels and children’s books, but the impulse behind all of her writing was pastoral. She believed that there are resources in Christ to meet every challenge and comfort every grief. She discovered in her own experience that the deeper the heartbreak, the deeper one can be drawn into experience of the love of God. The greater the challenge, the more one can grow in confidence in the still greater goodness of God. She wanted to point others to those never-failing resources of grace.

She could testify that it is when we surrender to the will of God, and trust his sovereign wisdom in every circumstance, that the worst trials can be transformed into the richest times of fellowship with God. She wrote:

God never places us in any position in which we can not grow. We may fancy that He does. We may fear we are so impeded by fretting, petty cares that we are gaining nothing; but when we are not sending any branches upward, we may be sending roots downward. Perhaps in the time of our humiliation, when everything seems a failure, we are making the best kind of progress.

As a busy mother and pastor’s wife, Elizabeth found that the busyness and interruptions and difficulties of everyday life are the ‘school of Christ’, where we learn to react with patience and good humour. At times she felt as if her family life was falling to pieces as she didn’t have the physical resources or energy she longed for to make a peaceful and well organised home. But in the midst of all of it she was well known for her warm welcome, her generous hospitality, her sense of humour and her artistic gifts.

I have been inspired by Elizabeth Prentiss as one of the most ‘real’ role models of practical holiness I have ever come across. She discovered that the harsh realities of everyday life, far from hindering our growth in grace, can be the means by which we grow. I wrote this biography in the hope that others could be encouraged by getting to know her as well.

The theme of her life is summed up in these words:

To love Christ more –  this is the deepest need, the constant cry of my soul.  Down in the bowling ally, and out in the woods, and on my bed, and out driving, when I am happy and busy, and when I am sad and idle, the whisper keeps going up for more love, more love, more love!

The post Learning Practical Holiness from Elizabeth Prentiss appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

The Magazine began 68 years ago, and with many fine articles on theology, church history, practical Christian living, and biography in our back-catalogue, we want to re-deploy these in an effective way.

The first three episodes are already up and available wherever you get your podcasts, and we warmly invite you to have a listen. The initial episode includes a fascinating interview with our General Manager, John Rawlinson, who explains how the magazine was started, before the Banner had published any books or held any conferences. That same episode includes a reading of Iain Murray’s landmark first editorial, which expressed the burden which has informed so much of what the Banner has been and done since then.

May this podcast be a blessing to many, wherever they may be listening!

Episode 1: ‘The King’s Business Requireth Haste!’: Introducing the Magazine Podcast

Episode 2: The Congregation on Two Continents

Episode 3: William Childs Robinson: Stalwart of the Faith

The post The Launch of the Magazine Podcast appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

By ‘posture’ I do not refer to the alignment of one’s body when standing. Good posture, of course, is advisable, for one breathes better, projects his voice better and shows respect for the uprightness and symmetry with which God created his image-bearers. No better instruction on this feature of pulpit address can be found than that offered by Spurgeon in his Lectures to my Students. In his brief apology for this two-lecture series, Spurgeon summarized the intent by assuming that

No minister would willingly cultivate a habit which would blunt his arrows, or drift them aside from the mark; and, therefore, since these minor matters of movement, posture, and gesture may have that effect, you will give them your immediate attention.¹

But I refer to one’s mental and spiritual posture. In what position does a person place his mind and heart as he approaches the time of pulpit proclamation? Within what framework does the preacher of the gospel align his thoughts as he prepares to stand before the people of God to deliver the message of God from the book of God?

My experience in considering this issue does not come from a long history of week-by-week preparation to give soul care to one group of people over several years of pastoral labour. My preaching has been occasional in churches where I served as an assistant to the pastor, in conferences, a few interims, or one Sunday at a time in different churches. I have heard many sermons, however, as a church member and as a regular attendee at chapel through eight years of seminary life as a student and thirty-three years as a professor. And, as is true in virtually every Christian’s relationships, many friends who attend church talk about sermons and preachers and the impact that certain styles of pulpit address have on them.

Content trumps everything. The reconciling work of Christ must be central to the message and omnipresent in the sermon portfolio of every pastor. By reconciling work I mean the incarnation of the Son of God, his life of tested and perfected righteousness, his substitutionary death submitting to a wrath not his due but ours, his resurrection by the glory of the Father, his appearances and post-resurrection commissions and instructions, his ascension, his sending of the Spirit, his present work of intercession, and the hope of his coming again. By omnipresent I mean that each and every sermon must make some conscious and conscientious connection to the Messiah-driven nature of divine revelation. A sermon is not a Christian sermon unless it leads us to Christ; a text is not a biblical text unless it is seen in its connection to Christ. None of the promises are ours apart from Christ but ‘as many as may be the promises of God, in him [Christ] they are yes’ and only in him do we find the assured and final affirmation that we may indeed live to the glory of God (2 Cor. 1:20). Every law was given by him to drive us to him, every deliverer of Israel pictures what only Christ does. Every Psalm gives praise to the King of kings, every proverb shows us that wisdom is bound up in the cross of Christ, every prophet lets us know that in these last days God has spoken to us by a Son. Christ himself taught us this when he called two disciples ‘foolish men and slow of heart’ because they failed to ‘believe in all that the prophets have spoken.’ Had they perceived correctly the prophetic message, they would have known that it was ‘necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and to enter into his glory’ (Luke 24:25, 26). He instructed them, therefore, ‘beginning with Moses and with all the prophets’ and ‘explained to them the things concerning himself in all the Scriptures’ (v. 27) Without Christ in his suffering and glory all sermon content is trivial humanism.

Next to content, however, no listener can ignore the impression made by delivery. Delivery is affected, moreover, not only by the disciplined use of body and vocal inflection, but by the state of mind a preacher has prior to his taking his assigned place of instruction and admonition before the people of God. So infused are matter and manner that one’s posture of presentation may allow the content to glow with magnetic fervour or bleach it into pale, insipid, even obnoxious hues by its impact on the existential credibility of the messenger. A serious message on the cross may wither from the flippant humour and ill-placed jocularity of the messenger. A message about the humiliation of Christ and the consequent necessity of humility on the part of his followers may crumble under the weight of the cavalier and detached carriage of the messenger. A message on the love of God may sag into mere amusement by the amateurish histrionics of the messenger. In short the most glorious and compelling message possible may lose credibility by any number of ways in which a lack of earnestness becomes prominent.

Jonathan Edwards, in his Thoughts on the New England Revival, observed,

I think an exceeding affectionate way of preaching about the great things of religion, has in itself no tendency to beget false apprehensions of them; but on the contrary a much greater tendency to beget true apprehensions of them, than a moderate, dull, indifferent way of speaking of them.²

He argued that great earnestness did as much to settle the judgment in favour of truth as great learning and concluded, ‘Our people don’t so much need to have their heads stored, as to have their hearts touched.’³ We, however, need a heavy portion of both. The truths of divine revelation, flowing like hot lava from heart and lips burning with intense passion for God and souls, make truth not only heard but felt. Spurgeon added,

One of the excuses most soporific to the conscience of an ungodly generation is that of half-heartedness in the preacher. If the sinner finds the preacher nodding while he talks of judgment to come, he concludes that the judgment is a thing which the preacher is dreaming about, and he resolves to regard it all as mere fiction.⁴

While Edwards specifically wrote to defend the exuberance of preachers in the first Great Awakening and to deflect the severe criticism they received in an attempt to discredit the revival, his argument that manner, the emotional and spiritual overtones, of delivery colours the content is widely applicable. Given our great tendency to sin and self-centredness, certain particular steps should be taken consciously to give the best opportunity for an earnest manner commensurate with the glory of the message.

First, we should consider who we are – sinners prone to have our tongues corrupt the whole course of nature and defile our entire body because it is set on fire by hell. We preachers will be judged harshly for the wrong use of our tongues. On this we should meditate at several points during the week; we should recall those times that words spoken too quickly or with too little thought have hurt relationships and dishonoured God. How much more will a word unfitly spoken, even the right word unfitly spoken, be a dishonour to God if we stand as his messenger and fail to mortify the flesh in our style of delivery. The immediate suggestions to the mind of light anecdotes or ex tempore comments about oneself or the congregation hardly ever advance the cause of the gospel in a message and usually lighten the mood so that seriousness due the proclamation can not be regained.

Second we should consider who the people are – the sheep of God who need a shepherd that is not a mere hireling. The shepherd may protect the sheep by steering them clear of pitfalls, brambles and sheep-eating carnivores. Calls to repentance, therefore, based on biblical admonition, mandate and law should run liberally through the messages that we preach if we earnestly care for the souls of those that hear. Aside remarks, however, that draw more attention to the feelings of the speaker than the glory of the message hardly ever edify or endear one to the call of Christ. Self-conscious efforts to evoke a periodic ‘Amen’ from the congregation may interrupt meaningful reflection on the part of the more serious listeners and could indicate that the minister is more interested in an immediate affirmation of a series of one-liners than a prolonged engagement with a biblical argument. Worse than that is the attempt to insult the congregation into response by clever, or not so clever, manipulations to shame: ‘Are you people awake yet?’ ‘Are you thinking about beating the Methodists to the cafeteria?’ or ‘Hello?!’ after a failed attempt to create a chuckle.

When they hear our voice, will they indeed hear the voice of the Shepherd that gave his life for them? Paul wrote to the Corinthians, ‘You are our letter, written in our hearts, known and read by all men; being manifested that you are a letter of Christ, cared for by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God.’ This periodic consideration of who the people are, how Christ has died for them, how the Spirit has called us to them and hopefully written them on our hearts as persons to be cared for will make our public messages to them filled with transparency, earnestness, godliness and joy with the intent of edifying them by setting Christ before them. Instead of evoking a laugh from them, the point of our message should bring weeping from us and them for the reality of the eternity that looms before us mortals, the eternity in which we face the flaming eyes of the righteous judge whose vision will burn away every refuge except the cover of Christ’s obedience.

Third, meditate seriously and purposefully on the glory of Christ. The apostle Peter indicates that this action occupied the prophets prior to Christ’s coming. They ‘inquired carefully’ as to what type of person or time might be required to fulfill the Spirit’s predictions concerning ‘the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories’ (1 Pet. 1:10, 11 ESV). They laboured over the revelation that they had with such intense interest that the Spirit made a separate revelation to them that the answers would not come in their lifetime. These vital and compelling aspects of divine intervention were reserved for a subsequent age and could only be understood in light of the appearance of the person himself. Only through Christ is the veil taken away, and, then, only ‘when one turns to the Lord’ (2 Cor. 3:14-16). Their turning to the Lord, moreover, was the result of hearing the ‘word of Christ’ preached (Rom. 10:17). After Christ’s ascension, the revelation was made in its fullness to the apostles and prophets (Eph. 3:5) even as they preached ‘the good news . . . by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven’ (1 Pet. 1:12). The good news consisted of issues of redemptive truth that even the angels did not fully grasp and which they evidently learned through the preaching of the apostolic generation. As a result of the impact of this preaching, in which the sufferings of Christ and his subsequent glory were highlighted, Peter could admonish the churches to ‘set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ’ (l Pet. 1:13). Every admonition, every word of encouragement, every bit of instruction that Peter wrote relates immediately to the sufferings and glory of Christ. Their ground of acceptance is in his sufferings and their hope for the future is in his glorification (1:2; 2:24; 3:18; 4:1,2; 5:1,10). Their reason for patience in all their trials is the suffering and glory of Christ (1:3-9; 3:14-18; 4:12-14). Their impetus for holiness is in the sufferings and glory of Christ (1:13-21; 2:18-23; 4:3-6). The energy and example for loving the brethren comes from the gospel of Christ’s suffering and glory preached to them (1:22-25; 3:8, 9; 4:7-11). If a preacher would understand a text and be inspired to preach all that it contains, he must spend time during the week reflecting on the glory of Christ in his cross, his resurrection, his intercession and his coming.

Fourth, be saturated with the sermon text and bear it consciously in mind throughout the sermon. In addition to thorough preparation in all the relevant helps available to him, meditation on the text should heighten its importance in the preacher’s mind so that he grasps the potency of the eternal blessings of grace flowing from it and can think of nothing more worthy of his allotted time than the display of Christ through its truth. Be determined that those that hear this sermon will know this text and how its parts radiate from Christ and his sufficiency as Saviour and Lord and bend back upon him, reflecting his glory from a unique facet on the jewel of Scripture. Keep reminding the hearers that ‘Our text tells us so.’ We would never want to do away with the massive variety of helps available today to expedite exegesis and give critical clarity to the meaning of a text. But we must also recognize that Scripture is its own best interpreter. A personal knowledge of the text, its surrounding context, and an intimate acquaintance with the whole Bible makes meditation on a particular text an edifying experience personally and lends power to one’s preaching. A. T. Robertson had broad acquaintance with large numbers of preachers that in truth were men of one book. He observed:

This was literally true in some instances, for some of the early Baptist ministers were too poor to possess even a modest library. In some cases the old preacher would own Cruden’s Concordance or Matthew Henry’s Commentary. But the preacher who had only a copy of the English Bible often made such diligent use of it that he literally knew it. He could quote chapter and verse for his positions and expound Scripture by Scripture; a method not to be despised by the modern interpreter. Sermons out of the Concordance may be fearfully and wonderfully made, but sermons made out of the Bible which one has at his fingers’ ends may be charged with power and can certainly claim the promise of God to bless his Word in a sense not true of some modern disquisitions and essays. If some of the interpretations were at times crude and lacking in historical perspective, they at least reflected the light of truth. They were loyal to Christ and preached the reality of sin, the need of a Saviour, and the power of Christ to save sinners of the deepest dye. The pioneer preacher believed his gospel with all his heart and had no doubts about it, for he had put it to the test in too many instances. He was a man of power largely because he was mighty in the Scriptures and was full of faith in God.⁵

Fifth, be single minded in staying with the text and aware of the presence of Christ during the time of delivery. Many clever asides and easily-permitted digressions would remain in the realm of the unspoken where they should be joined by many others were the preacher to cultivate a deep-consciousness of Christ’s presence with his people during the time of the ministry of the Word. The clutter of superfluous comments could be swept away entirely if we kept in mind that the demands of the text should determine the contour and intent of every sentence. Such concentration on text and Christ would defy the insertion of jokes. Free-standing fabrications of incongruity or implied ridicule simply for the sake of a laugh will not contribute to but will interrupt both the cogency of thought and the pertinent pathos necessary for penetrating a heart with truth and love. Late night talk shows may thrive on this material, but Christian pulpits will wilt right along with the souls that are periodically injected with the virus of insincerity. Jokes have nothing to do with the biblical text and the attempt at teasing relevance out of them is so strained that the congregation usually sees through the charade, and gospel seriousness flies away to find refuge somewhere else. If you seek such jokes in the sermons of Calvin, Luther, Edwards, Whitefield, Wesley, Owen, Howe, Bunyan, Gill, Andrew Fuller, Richard Fuller, Robert Hall, John A. Broadus, James P. Boyce or Charles Spurgeon you will come up empty. They give no advice about it nor example of it. I doubt if the consideration of such a communicative device ever occurred to them, for their view of the task before them did not admit of it. Spurgeon sometimes employed humour, but it was always in the flow of thought – an epigram, a pithy proverb, an arresting image, an astute observation about human nature in its relation to divine things, a statement of irony – that sealed, rather than concealed or nullified, the truth being discussed. Boyce’s sermons so overflow with earnest solicitude for the spiritual health of his hearers that one can almost feel the warmth generated by his devotional energy. Edwards’ intensity for the truth of his doctrine and the salvation of his hearer, concerns intertwined at every phase of his sermon, reverberate with palpable power even from the printed page. Richard Fuller’s saturation with the applicability of his doctrinal and textual theme left no space in his mental apparatus for a jocular spirit to shoulder its way into his thinking.

One should not infer from any of these suggestions that a minister of the gospel must be less, or more, than human. He should, however, recognize the sinful tendency that humans have to trivialize the sacred and mortify that urge. He should recognize the sinful tendency to use the tongue as an instrument of hell, and fear the outcome. As one called to a transcendent task, he must not create a subterranean climate. As one given specific instructions about the chief function of his calling, he must avoid adding his own bright ideas about what would make it more compelling. ‘Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching . . . But you be watchful in all things, endure afflictions, do the work of an evangelist, fulfil your ministry’ (2 Tim. 4:2, 5). Hold fast the faithful Word that by sound doctrine you can exhort and convince those that contradict it; and show yourself to be a model of good works. In your teaching show integrity, gravity, sincerity, sound speech that cannot be condemned (Titus 1:9; 2:7, 8 paraphrased).

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WE may as well confess at the outset that there is no such thing as a modern theory of the Atonement, in the sense in which there is a modern theory, say, of the Incarnation – the kenosis theory to wit, which is a brand-new conception, never dreamed of until the nineteenth century was well on its course, and likely, we may hope, to pass out of notice with that century. All the theories of the Atonement now current readily arrange themselves under the old categories, and have their prototypes running back more or less remotely into the depths of Church history.

The fact is, the views men take of the atonement are largely determined by their fundamental feelings of need – by what men most long to be saved from. And from the beginning three well-marked types of thought on this subject have been traceable, corresponding to three fundamental needs of human nature as it unfolds itself in this world of limitation. Men are oppressed by the ignorance, or by the misery, or by the sin in which they feel themselves sunk; and, looking to Christ to deliver them from the evil under which they particularly labor, they are apt to conceive His work as consisting predominantly in revelation of divine knowledge, or in the inauguration of a reign of happiness, or in deliverance from the curse of sin.

In the early Church, the intellectualistic tendency allied itself with the class of phenomena which we call Gnosticism. The longing for peace and happiness that was the natural result of the crying social evils of the time, found its most remarkable expression in what we know as Chiliasm. That no such party-name suggests itself to describe the manifestation given to the longing to be delivered from the curse of sin, does not mean that this longing was less prominent or less poignant: but precisely the contrary. The other views were sloughed off as heresies, and each received its appropriate designation as such: this was the fundamental point of sight of the Church itself, and as such found expression in numberless ways, some of which, no doubt, were sufficiently bizarre – as, for example, the somewhat widespread representation of the atonement as centering in the surrender of Jesus as a ransom to Satan.

Our modern Church, you will not need me to tell you, is very much like the early Church in all this. All three of these tendencies find as full representation in present-day thought as in any age of the Church’s life. Perhaps at no other period was Christ so frequently or so passionately set forth as merely a social Saviour. Certainly at no other period has His work been so prevalently summed up in mere revelation. While now, as ever, the hope of Christians at large continues to be set upon Him specifically as the Redeemer from sin.

The forms in which these fundamental types of thinking are clothed in our modern days, differ, as a matter of course, greatly from those they assumed in the first age. This difference is largely the result of the history of thought through the intervening centuries. The assimilation of the doctrines of revelation by the Church was a gradual process; and it was also an orderly process – the several doctrines emerging in the Christian consciousness for formal discussion and scientific statement in a natural sequence. In this process the doctrine of the atonement did not come up for formulation until the eleventh century, when Anselm gave it its first really fruitful treatment, and laid down for all time the general lines on which the atonement must be conceived, if it is thought of as a work of deliverance from the penalty of sin. The influence of Anselm’s discussion is not only traceable, but has been determining in all subsequent thought down to to-day. The doctrine of satisfaction set forth by him has not been permitted, however, to make its way unopposed. Its extreme opposite –the general conception that the atoning work of Christ finds its essence in revelation and had its prime effect, therefore, in deliverance from error–was advocated in Anselm’s own day by perhaps the acutest reasoner of all the schoolmen, Peter Abelard. The intermediate view which was apparently invented five centuries later by the great Dutch jurist, Hugo Grotius, loves to think of itself as running back, in germ at least, to nearly as early a date. In the thousand years of conflict which has raged among these generic conceptions each has taken on protean shapes, and a multitude of mixed or mediating hypotheses have been constructed. But, broadly speaking, the theories that have divided the suffrages of men easily take places under one or other of these three types.

There is a fourth general conception, to be sure, which would need to be brought into view were we studying exhaustive enumeration. This is the mystical idea which looks upon the work of Christ as summed up in the incarnation; and upon the saving process as consisting in an unobserved leavening of mankind by the inworking of a vital germ then planted in the mass. But though there never was an age in which this idea failed entirely of representation, it bears a certain aristocratic character which has commended it ordinarily only to the few, however fit: and it probably never was very widely held except during the brief period when the immense genius of Schleiermacher so overshadowed the Church that it could hardly think at all save in the formulas taught by him. Broadly speaking, the field has been held practically by the three theories which are commonly designated by the names of Anselm, Grotius, and Abelard; and age has differed from age only in the changing expression given these theories and the relative dominance of one or another of them.

The Reformers, it goes without saying, were enthusiastic preachers of the Anselmic conception – of course as corrected, developed, and enriched by their own deeper thought and truer insight. Their successors adjusted, expounded, and defended its details, until it stood forth in the seventeenth century dogmatics in practical completeness. During this whole period this conception held the field; the numerous controversies that arose about it were rather joined with the Socinian or the mystic than internal to the circle of recognized Church teachers. It was not until the rise of Rationalism that a widely spread defection became observable. Under this blight men could no longer believe in the substitutive expiation which is the heart of the Anselmic doctrine, and a blood-bought redemption went much out of fashion. The dainty Supranaturalists attained the height only of the Grotian view, and allowed only a “demonstrative” as distinguished from an “ontological” necessity for an atonement, and an “executive” as distinguished from a” judicial” effect to it. The great evangelical revivals of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, however, swept away all that. It is probable that a half century ago the doctrine of penal satisfaction had so strong a hold on the churches that not more than an academic interest attached to rival theories.

About that time a great change began to set in. I need only to mention such names as those of Horace Bushnell, McLeod Campbell, Frederick Dennison Maurice, Albrecht Ritschl, to suggest the strength of the assault that was suddenly delivered against the central ideas of an expiatory atonement. The immediate effect was to call out an equally powerful defense. Our best treatises on the atonement come from this period; and Presbyterians in particular may well be proud of the part played by them in the crisis. But this defense only stemmed the tide: it did not succeed in rolling it back. The ultimate result has been that the revolt from the conceptions of satisfaction, propitiation, expiation, sacrifice, reinforced continually by tendencies adverse to evangelical doctrine peculiar to our times, has grown steadily more and more widespread, and in some quarters more and more extreme, until it has issued in an immense confusion on this central doctrine of the gospel. Voices are raised all about us proclaiming a “theory” of the atonement impossible, while many of those that essay a “theory” seem to be feeling their tortuous way very much in the dark. That, if I mistake not, is the real state of affairs in the modern Church.

I am not meaning to imply that the doctrine of substitutive atonement–which is, after all, the very heart of the gospel–has been lost from the consciousness of the Church. It has not been lost from the hearts of the Christian community. It is in its terms that the humble Christian everywhere still expresses the grounds of his hope of salvation. It is in its terms that the earnest evangelist everywhere still presses the claims of Christ upon the awakened hearer. It has not even been lost from the forum of theological discussion. It still commands powerful advocates wherever a vital Christianity enters academical circles: and, as a rule, the more profound the thinker, the more clear is the note he strikes in its proclamation and defense. But if we were to judge only by the popular literature of the day– a procedure happily not possible –the doctrine of a substitutive atonement has retired well into the background. Probably the majority of those who hold the public ear, whether as academical or as popular religious guides, have definitely broken with it, and are commending to their audiences something other and, as they no doubt believe, something very much better. A tone of speech has even grown up regarding it which is not only scornful but positively abusive. There are no epithets too harsh to be applied to it, no invectives too intense to be poured out on it. An honored bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church tells us that “the whole theory of substitutional punishment as a ground either of conditional or unconditional pardon is unethical, contradictory, and self-subversive.”¹ He may rightly claim to be speaking in this sweeping sentence with marked discretion and unwonted charity. To do justice to the hateful theme requires, it seems, the tumid turmoil and rushing rant of Dr. Farrar’s rhetoric. Surely if hard words broke bones, the doctrine of the substitutional sacrifice of the Son of God for the sin of man would long ago have been ground to powder.

What, then, are we offered instead of it? We have already intimated that it is confusion which reigns here: and in any event we cannot go into details. We may try, however, to set down in few words the general impression that the most recent literature of the subject makes.

To obtain a just view of the situation, I think we ought to note, first of all, the wide prevalence among the sounder thinkers of the Grotian or Rectoral theory of the atonement–the theory, that is, that conceives the work of Christ not as supplying the ground on which God forgives sin, but only as supplying the ground on which He may safely forgive sins on the sole ground of His compassion. The theory of hypothetical universalism, according to which Christ died as the proper substitute for all men on the condition, namely, that they should believe–whether in its Remonstrant or in its Amyraldian form–has in the conflict of theories long since been crushed out of existence–as, indeed, it well deserved to be. This having been shoved out of the way, the Grotian theory has come to be the orthodox Arminian view and is taught as such by the leading exponents of modern Arminian thought whether in Britain or America; and he who will read the powerful argumentation to that effect by the late Dr. John Miley, say, for example, will be compelled to agree that it is, indeed, the highest form of atonement-doctrine conformable to the Arminian system. But not only is it thus practically universal among the Wesleyan Arminians. It has become also, under the influence of such teachers as Drs. Wardlaw and Dale and Dr. Park, the mark also of orthodox Nonconformity in Great Britain and of orthodox Congregationalism in America. Nor has it failed to take a strong hold also of Scottish Presbyterianism: it is specifically advocated by such men of mark and leading as, for example, Dr. Marcus Dods. On the Continent of Europe it is equally widespread among the saner teachers; one notes without surprise, for example, that it was taught by the late Dr. Frederic Godet, though one notes with satisfaction that it was considerably modified upward by Dr. Godet, and that his colleague, Dr. Gretillat, was careful to correct it. In a word, wherever men have been unwilling to drop all semblance of an “objective” atonement, as the word now goes, they have taken refuge in this half-way house which Grotius has builded for them. I do not myself look upon this as a particularly healthful sign of the times. I do not myself think that, at bottom, there is in principle much to choose between the Grotian and the so-called “subjective” theories. It seems to me only an illusion to suppose that it preserves an “objective” atonement at all. But meanwhile it is adopted by many because they deem it “objective,” and it so far bears witness to a remanent desire to preserve an “objective” atonement.

We are getting more closely down to the real characteristic of modern theories of the atonement when we note that there is a strong tendency observable all around us to rest the forgiveness of sins solely on repentance as its ground. In its last analysis, the Grotian theory itself reduces to this. The demonstration of God’s righteousness, which is held by it to be the heart of Christ’s work and particularly of His death, is supposed to have no other effect on God than to render it safe for Him to forgive sin. And this it does not as affecting Him, but as affecting men–namely, by awaking in them such a poignant sense of the evil of sin as to cause them to hate it soundly and to turn decisively away from it. This is just Repentance. We could desire no better illustration of this feature of the theory than is afforded by the statement of it by one of its most distinguished living advocates, Dr. Marcus Dods². The necessity of atonement, he tells us, lies in the “need of some such demonstration of God’s righteousness as will make it possible and safe for Him to forgive the unrighteous” (p. 181). Whatever begets in the sinner true penitence and impels him toward the practice of righteousness will render it safe to forgive him. Hence Dr. Dods asserts that it is inconceivable that God should not forgive the penitent sinner, and that Christ’s work is summed up in such an exhibition of God’s righteousness and love as produces, on its apprehension, adequate repentance. “By being the source, then, of true and fruitful penitence, the death of Christ removes the radical subjective obstacle in the way of forgiveness” (p. 184). “The death of Christ, then, has made forgiveness possible, because it enables man to repent with an adequate penitence, and because it manifests righteousness and binds men to God” (p. 187). There is no hint here that man needs anything more to enable him to repent than the presentation of motives calculated powerfully to induce him to repent. That is to say, there is no hint here of an adequate appreciation of the subjective effects of sin on the human heart, deadening it to the appeal of motives to right action however powerful, and requiring therefore an internal action of the Spirit of God upon it before it can repent: or of the purchase of such a gift of the Spirit by the sacrifice of Christ. As little is there any hint here of the existence of any sense of justice in God, forbidding Him to account the guilty righteous without satisfaction of guilt. All God requires for forgiveness is repentance: all the sinner needs for repentance is a moving inducement. It is all very simple; but we are afraid it does not go to the root of matters as presented either in Scripture or in the throes of our awakened heart.

The widespread tendency to represent repentance as the atoning fact might seem, then, to be accountable from the extensive acceptance which has been given to the Rectoral theory of the atonement. Nevertheless much of it has had a very different origin and may be traced back rather to some such teaching as that, say, of Dr. McLeod Campbell. Dr. Campbell did not himself find the atoning fact in man’s own repentance, but rather in our Lord’s sympathetic repentance for man. He replaced the evangelical doctrine of substitution by a theory of sympathetic identification, and the evangelical doctrine of expiatory penalty-paying by a theory of sympa­thetic repentance. Christ so fully enters sympathetically into our case, was his idea, that He is able to offer to God an adequate repentance for our sins, and the Father says, It is enough! Man here is still held to need a Saviour, and Christ is presented as that Saviour, and is looked upon as performing for man what man cannot do for himself. But the gravitation of this theory is distinctly downward, and it has ever tended to find its lower level. There are, therefore, numerous transition theories prevalent–some of them very complicated, some of them very subtle–which connect it by a series of insensible stages with the proclamation of human repentance as the sole atonement required. As typical of these we may take the elaborate theory (which, like man himself, may be said to be fearfully and wonderfully made) set forth by the modern Andover divines. This finds the atoning fact in a combination ‘Of Christ’s sympathetic repentance for man and man’s own repentance under the impression made upon him by Christ’s work on his behalf – not in the one without the other, but in the two in unison. A similar combination of the revolutionary repentance of man induced by Christ and the sympathetic repentance of Christ for man meets us also in recent German theorizing, as, for example, in the teaching of Häring. It is sometimes clothed in “sacrificial ” language and made to bear an appearance even of “substitution.” It is just the repentance of Christ, however, which is misleadingly called His “sacrifice,” and our sympathetic repentance with Him that is called our participation in His “sacrifice”; and it is carefully explained that though there was “a substitution on Calvary,” it was not the substitution of a sinless Christ for a sinful race, but the substitution of humanity plus Christ for humanity minus Christ. All of which seems but a confusing way of saying that the atoning fact consists in the revolutionary repentance of man induced by the spectacle of Christ’s sympathetic repentance for man.

The essential emphasis in all these transition theories falls obviously on man’s own repentance rather than on Christ’s. Accordingly the latter falls away easily and leaves us with human repentance only as the sole atoning fact–the entire reparation which God asks or can ask for sin. Nor do men hesitate to-day to proclaim this openly and boldly. Scores of voices are raised about us declaring it not only with clearness but with passion. Even those who still feel bound to attribute the reconciling of God somehow to the work of Christ are often careful to explain that they mean this ultimately only, and only because they attribute in one way or other to the work of Christ the arousing of the repentance in man which is the immediate ground of forgiveness. Thus Dean Fremantle tells us that it is “repentance and faith” that “change for us the face of God.” And then he adds, doubtless as a concession to ingrained, though outgrown, habits of thought: “If, then, the death of Christ, viewed as the culminating point of His life of love, is the destined means of repentance for the whole world, we may say, also, that it is the means of securing the  mercy and favour of God, of procuring the forgiveness of sins.”‘³ And Dr. (now Principal) Forsyth, whose fervid address on the atonement at a great Congregationalist gathering a few years ago quite took captive the hearts of the whole land, seems really to teach little more than this. Christ sympathetically enters into our condition, he tells us, and gives expression to an adequate sense of sin. We, perceiving the effect of this, His entrance into our sinful atmosphere, are smitten with horror of the judgment our sin has thus brought on Him. This horror begets in us an adequate repentance of sin: God accepts this repentance as enough; and forgives our sin. Thus forgiveness rests proximately only on our repentance as its ground: but our repentance is produced only by Christ’s sufferings: and hence, Dr. Forsyth tells us, Christ’s sufferings may be called the ultimate ground of forgiveness.⁴

It is sufficiently plain that the function served by the sufferings and death of Christ in this construction is somewhat remote. Accordingly they quite readily fall away altogether. It seems quite natural that they should do so with those whose doctrinal inheritance comes from Horace Bushnell, say, or from the Socinian theorizing of the school of Ritschl. We feel no surprise to learn, for example, that with Harnack the sufferings and death of Christ play no appreciable part. With him the whole atoning act seems to consist in the removal of a false conception of God from the minds of men. Men, because sinners, are prone to look upon God as a wrathful judge. He is, on the contrary, just Love. How can the sinner’s misjudgment be corrected? By the impression made upon him by the life of Jesus, keyed to the conception of the Divine Fatherhood. With all this we are familiar enough. But we are hardly prepared for the extremities of language which some permit themselves in giving expression to it. “The whole difficulty,” a recent writer of this class declares, “is not in inducing or enabling God to pardon, but in moving men to abhor sin and to want pardon.” Even this difficulty, however, we are assured is removable: and what is needed for its removal is only proper instruction. “Christianity,” cries our writer, “was a revelation, not a creation.” Even this false antithesis does not, however, satisfy him. He rises beyond it to the acme of his passion. “Would there have been no Gospel,” he rhetorically demands–as if none could venture to say him nay–”would there have been no Gospel had not Christ died?”⁵ Thus “the blood of Christ” on which the Scriptures hang the whole atoning fact is thought no longer to be needed: the gospel of Paul, which consisted not in Christ simpliciter but specifically in “Christ as crucified,” is scouted. We are able to get along now without these things.

To such a pass have we been brought by the prevailing gospel of the indiscriminate love of God. For it is here that we place our finger on the root of the whole modern assault upon the doctrine of an expiatory atonement. In the attempt to give effect to the conception of indiscriminate and undiscriminating love as the basal fact of religion, the entire Biblical teaching as to atonement has been ruthlessly torn up. If God is love and nothing but love, what possible need can there be of an atonement? Certainly such a God cannot need propitiating. Is not He the All-Father? Is He not yearning for His children with an unconditioned and unconditioning eagerness which excludes all thought of “obstacles to forgiveness”? What does He want but–just His children? Our modern theorizers are never weary of ringing the changes on this single fundamental idea. God does not require to be moved to forgiveness; or to be enabled to pardon; or even to be enabled to pardon safely. He raises no question of whether He can pardon, or whether it would be safe for Him to pardon. Such is not the way of love. Love is bold enough to sweep all such chilling questions impatiently out of its path. The whole difficulty is to induce men to permit themselves to be pardoned. God is continually reaching longing arms out of heaven toward men: oh, if men would only let themselves be gathered unto the Father’s eager heart! It is absurd, we are told–nay, wicked–blasphemous with awful blasphemy–to speak of propitiating such a God as this, of reconciling Him, of making satisfaction to Him. Love needs no satisfying, reconciling, propitiating; nay, will have nothing to do with such things. Of its very nature it flows out unbought, unpropitiated, instinctively and unconditionally, to its object. And God is Love!

Well, certainly, God is Love. And we praise Him that we have better authority for telling our souls this glorious truth than the passionate assertion of these somewhat crass theorizers. God is Love! But it does not in the least follow that He is nothing but love. God is Love: but Love is not God and the formula “Love” must therefore ever be inadequate to express God. It may well be–to us sinners, lost in our sin and misery but for it, it must be–the crowning revelation of Christianity that God is love. But it is not from the Christian revelation that we have learned to think of God as nothing but love. That God is the Father of all men in a true and important sense, we should not doubt. But this term “All-Father” – it is not from the lips of Hebrew prophet or Christian apostle that we have caught it. And the indiscriminate benevolencism which has taken captive so much of the religious thinking of our time is a conception not native to Christianity, but of distinctly heathen quality. As one reads the pages of popular religious literature, teeming as it is with ill-considered assertions of the general Fatherhood of God, he has an odd feeling of transportation back into the atmosphere of, say, the decadent heathenism of the fourth and fifth centuries, when the gods were dying, and there was left to those who would fain cling to the old ways little beyond a somewhat saddened sense of the benignitas numinis. The benignitas numinis! How studded the pages of those genial old heathen are with the expression; how suffused their repressed life is with the conviction that the kind Deity that dwells above will surely not be hard on men toiling here below! How shocked they are at the stern righteousness of the Christian’s God, who loomed before their startled eyes as He looms before those of the modern poet in no other light than as “the hard God that dwelt in Jerusalem”! Surely the Great Divinity is too broadly good to mark the peccadillos of poor puny man; surely they are the objects of His compassionate amusement rather than of His fierce reprobation. Like Omar Khayyam’s pot, they were convinced, before all things, of their Maker that “He’s a good fellow and ’twill all be well.”

The query cannot help rising to the surface of our minds whether our modern indiscriminate benevolencism goes much  deeper than this. Does all this one-sided proclamation of the universal Fatherhood of God import much more than the heathen benignitas numinis? When we take those blessed words, “God is Love,” upon our lips, are we sure we mean to express much more than that we do not wish to believe that God will hold man to any real account for his sin? Are we, in a word, in these modern days, so much soaring upward toward a more adequate apprehension of the transcendent truth that God is love, as passionately protesting against being ourselves branded and dealt with as wrath-deserving sinners? Assuredly it is impossible to put anything like their real content into these great words, “God is Love,” save as they are thrown out against the background of those other conceptions of equal loftiness, “God is Light,” “God is Righteousness,” “God is Holiness,” ” God is a consuming fire.” The love of God cannot be apprehended in its length and breadth and height and depth–all of which pass knowledge–save as it is apprehended as the love of a God who turns from the sight of sin with inexpressible abhorrence, and burns against it with unquenchable indignation. The infinitude of His love would be illustrated not by His lavishing of His favor on sinners without requiring an expiation of sin, but by His–through such holiness and through such righteousness as cannot but cry out with infinite abhorrence and indignation–still loving sinners so greatly that He provides a satisfaction for their sin adequate to these tremendous demands. It is the distinguishing characteristic of Christianity, after all, not that it preaches a God of love, but that it preaches a God of conscience.  A somewhat flippant critic, contemplating the religion of Israel, has told us, as expressive of his admiration for what he found there, that “an honest God is the noblest work of man.”⁶ There is a profound truth lurking in the remark. Only it appears that the work were too noble for man; and probably man has never compassed it. A benevolent God, yes: men have framed a benevolent God for themselves. But a thoroughly honest God, perhaps never. That has been left for the revelation of God Himself to give us. And this is the really distinguishing characteristic of the God of revelation: He is  thoroughly honest, a thoroughly conscientious God–a God who deals honestly with Himself and us, who deals conscientiously with Himself and us. And a thoroughly conscientious God, we may be sure, is not a God who can deal with sinners as if they were not sinners. In this fact lies, perhaps, the deepest ground of the necessity of an expiatory atonement. And it is in this fact also that there lies the deepest ground of the increasing failure of the modern world to appreciate the necessity of an expiatory atonement. Conscientiousness commends itself only to awakened conscience; and in much of recent theologizing conscience does not seem especially active. Nothing, indeed, is more startling in the structure of recent theories of atonement, than the apparently vanishing sense of sin that underlies them. Surely, it is only where the sense of guilt of sin has grown grievously faint, that men can suppose repentance to be all that is needed to purge it. Surely it is only where the sense of the power of sin has profoundly decayed, that men can fancy that they can at will cast it off from them in a “revolutionary repentance.” Surely it is only where the sense of the heinousness of sin has practically passed away, that man can imagine that the holy and just God can deal with it lightly. If we have not much to be saved from, why, certainly, a very little atonement will suffice for our needs. It is, after all, only the sinner that requires a Saviour. But if we are sinners, and in proportion as we know ourselves to be sinners, and appreciate what it means to be sinners, we will cry out for that Saviour who only after He was perfected by suffering could become the Author of eternal salvation.

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Observations upon my Sufferings.

(1.) That such as will live godly in the world must and will suffer persecution, for the trial and exercise of their faith and patience, purging away of their dross, and for weaning their hearts from a present world, and for confirmation of the truth, 2 Tim. 3:12; 1 Pet. 4:12; John 15:3.

(2.) Although at some times there be more or less of persecution, yet there is no time in which the saints shall be without daily crosses; for a wicked world will persecute with the tongue, even in Abraham’s family, where piety did obtain, Gal. 4:28, 29; Gen. 21:9. Even when religion was favoured, I found persecution by reproach, and contempt of wicked men.

(3.) There are some special days of persecution, when hell breaks loose, and when great trials come, which are called “the hour of tentation,” and “the evil day, the hour and power of darkness,” Revelation 3:10; Ephesians 6:13; Luke 8:13, 22, 25.

(4.) The Lord “stayeth his rough wind in the day of his east wind,” Isaiah 27:8. He many times puts an end to the extremities of his people’s personal trials ere [ed. ‘before] he exercises with public sufferings; he “lays not on men more than is meet,” and therefore suffers not a multitude of evils to lie upon his poor people at once, 1 Corinthians 10:10.

(5.) God first (I find) ordinarily exercises with personal afflictions, ere he call them to sufferings on account of Christ, that, being exercised with the one, they may better bear the other.

(6.) I find that the Lord doth many times affright us with troubles which never come upon us, as he did to Nineveh; and we are made to fear that which the mercy of God never suffers to touch us, Jonah 1:3.

(7.) But seldom or never doth a great personal or public stroke come upon the Lord’s people, but he gives them some warning, and notice of it before-hand, that we be not surprised, but prepared for it, Zephaniah 2:1-4².

(8.) Obstinacy in sin and impenitency, and the removing of God’s precious people, with security under this, have had greatest influence upon my fears of a day of desolation, Isaiah 57:12; Ezekiel 11:3, 4; Isaiah 9:4, 5.

(9.) Our fears, unbeliefs, and discouragements, with our confusions, are our greatest troubles in a day of trouble; it is a prison within a prison, Psalm 142:7, “O bring my soul out of trouble.” Our galled sore backs make our burdens more grievous to us–sin and unbelief are bad ballast in a storm.

(10.) The cross of Christ, when we once engage with it, is nothing so terrible, is nothing so heavy as at a distance in apprehension it is. How dreadful did a prison and appearing before synagogues appear to me! But, when I did encounter therewith, I found it nothing so terrible to me.

(11.) I was never in that trouble yet upon the account of Christ, but I was delivered out of it by the Lord, and that when it seemed very desperate to look for salvation, Psalm 34:19, “The troubles of the righteous are many, but the Lord delivereth out of them all.” We are to believe deliverance from all our troubles, though we cannot tell when or how.

(12.) Nothing contributes more to a Christian carriage under trouble, than faith of God’s support in and deliverance out of trouble, James 5:7, 8. Unbelief sinks the heart.

(13.) It is matter of great humiliation to us, that our troubles and afflictions do us but little good sometimes, that we are so unfruitful under the rod: and especially I observe, that small troubles have but small influence; every physic doth not work with strong constitutions. My lighter troubles, whether upon a personal or more public account, I found but little good by them. It was a deep heart-reaching stroke that did me good: and in times of greatest fears, sharpest afflictions, it was ever still best with me; and at first afflictions do not so much good, it is afterwards that they reap “the peaceable fruits of righteousness,” Hebrews 12:11. And, even when the Lord blesses them to do good, the fruit, alas! is but small; we are not so good under them as we ought to be or might.

(14.) I have observed, the more the Lord’s people are affiicted and persecuted, the more they grow; and the gospel never thrives better than when it is persecuted, Exodus 1:12; Phil. 1:12. Such things as happened to me have been “for the furtherance of the gospel.” All the malice of men could never have broken us, if we had not undone ourselves; they “plowed with our heifer” for the spreading of the gospel was the effect of a long time of their greatest severities.

(15.) Persecutors are ungodly, are cruel, are deceitful; and this did I see evidently, all persecutors have these three properties: and therefore let us beware of such persons, and keep at the utmost distance with them, and expect no good from them; let us not lean on them who smite us; let us suspect all their favours, for “the kisses of an enemy are deceitful; but let “our eyes be only to the Lord.”

(16.) Too great love, respect to, intimacy and communion with wicked men, and not standing at due distance with them, provokes the Lord to give his people into the hands of the wicked. The Israelites’ wicked confederacy with the Canaanites made them “briers and thorns in their sides;” had we carried to the ungodly as we ought to have done, we should not have smarted as we do this day.

(17.) It is a very great comfort to a godly person, that his persecutors and enemies are God’s enemies, and wicked persons: “Let my enemies be as the wicked,” saith Job. We may expect good hearing from God against them. It doth much likewise to determine us in our duties, that what they are for must be ill, and what they are against must be good: and, notwithstanding of the confidence of some compliers, it is strange that in almost six thousand years one instance from Scripture or authentic history cannot be given.

(18.) Under public sufferings we are mostly called to submission and patience, both in reference to God and men: “In patience possess your souls;” and to Christian cheerfulness. Oh, what a comely thing is it to see a meek sufferer, like the Master, “not opening his mouth,” but “dumb as a sheep is before the shearer!” And how ordinarily do men fall in this great sin of impatience? And cheerfulness under the cross of Christ is no less beautiful; and therefore how frequent such precepts and examples, to “glory, rejoice in tribulation?” for this gives a good report of Christ, his cause and cross to others.

(19.) Sufferings on public accounts are not only our duty, but our great privilege; to suffer for Christ is one of Christ’s love-gifts, Philippians 1:29, “It is given you to suffer for the name of Christ.” To give testimony for Christ and his truth is our greatest honour. A sufferer and witness for Christ is the most honourable person and officer in the kingdom of Christ; it is Christ’s highest and honourablest employment, Acts 5:41, “They rejoiced they were counted worthy to suffer shame for Christ.”

(20.) Reproach and shame, and ill-will of men, is the heaviest of Christ’s crosses to bear: “Reproach hath broken my heart,” saith David.

(21.) It is the great guilt of professors this day, that they not only shun the ways of God, but are ashamed of them, and of the cross of Christ, yea, and of the truths of Christ; of such will Christ be ashamed.

(22.) It is a very hard matter to get our sufferings stated upon Christ’s account, but yet it is very necessary we get it done; for many objections doth a poor suffering soul meet with in this case, as possibly not so clear to many as the matter of the sufferings of Christians under heathens, and of Protestants under Papists. Nor is the call to such a thing clear at such a time; some sinful accession of our own (through want of consideration or mistake) to our trouble, sense of guilt and unworthiness, doth render our cause dark to us many times. That as it was said of these, “Ye did not fast to me,” so may it be said of us, Ye suffer not to me, nor for me, but for your sins and yourselves.

(23.) Outward trouble from the hands of persecutors may be both a rod and correction for sin, and a testimony for Christ and his truth. The Lord Jesus may by one rod design both the correction and chastisement of his Church and people, and likewise design a confirmation and witness to his truth, cause, and work. Heb. 12:10, the public sufferings of the believing Hebrews were “chastisements for our profit.”

(24.) We by our sins therefore may provoke the Lord to deliver us into the hands of men, and by our weakness we may have some sinful hand and occasion thereto, and great failings attending our sufferings; and yet Christ accept of our sufferings, so maimed, as a testimony for him.

(25.) ‘Whatever pretext wicked persecutors make of afflicting God’s people, and that they be schismatic, scandalous, seditious, that they walk disorderly; yet the true ground of their quarrel is because of their enmity to God and godliness; and therefore we may be assured we suffer for Christ and for his cause: “All these things will they do unto you, because the love of the Father is not in them.” And David saith, that all his enemies’ quarrel with him was, “because he followed after that which was good.” It is the enmity that is between the seed of the serpent and the seed of the woman, Genesis 3:15 ; Matthew 23:33; John 15:19, 21.

(26.) I observe, that the Lord doth accept of the faithful ends and endeavours, and honest intention and zeal of his people, when the methods and particular means and courses they take for witnessing for Christ are sometimes not altogether justifiable; as he who scruples through want of light an oath in itself lawful, out of zeal for the glory of God which he fears by taking this oath he wrongs, and thereupon suffers, this man’s sufferings are accepted of Christ as a testimony for him.

(27.) The controversy this day is as manifestly stated betwixt Christ and the devil, sin and godliness, whether the world should be Christ’s subjects, or the devil’s and sin’s subjects, as ever it was. The smaller differences, though in themselves of no great consequence, yet centre in this great gulf of rebellion against God. To touch any thing belonging to this wicked generation, Christ’s stated enemies, or to have ought ado with them, is dangerous, Numbers 16:26; and they are the emissaries of Satan, and doing his work, who plead for union and compliance with them.

(28.) Yet ought not the miscarriages of superiors dissolve the civil or natural bonds of relation to them, Matthew 23:1, 2. We are to do, and be submissive to, the commands of superiors, though we be not to imitate their practice.

(29.) Man’s wrath, and all persecution, shall tend and work to the praise of God and the good of saints, Psalm 76:10 ; Isaiah 31:9, and this is a marvellous consolation.

(30.) Many a time may we, in a public stroke of persecution, see our sin and guilt clearly and legibly written, as in Adonibezek, Judges 1; Genesis 19; Such as burned with unnatural lust to one another are justly consumed with fire from heaven: and it is just that lovers, whom we preferred to Christ, be the instruments of our greatest trouble.

(31.) Many times do the people of God find great favour and kindness at the hands of natural men, yea, and more sometimes than from the truly godly: the earth helped the woman many times. I found some professors of religion stood at greater distance with me, than did mere natural and graceless persons.

(32.) The preservation of some, of a remnant in a day of straits, is exceeding wonderful and marvellous sometimes.

(33.) “The wicked are snared in the  work of their own hands,” Psalm 9, and Hamans hanged on their own gallows. The Lord makes the weapons of the wicked recoil on themselves; every mean for a good while they take in hand doth but weaken them, and increase the other party.

(34.) It is the people of God that only can undo and harm themselves; and it is by division that it is done: while we stood in one spirit, we could not be overcome or prevailed against; but false brethren crept in amongst us, divided and broke us through the subtilty of adversaries, and did draw us to rash enterprises.

(35.) The greatest consolations do attend the greatest tribulations, 2 Corinthians 1:5, 6.

(36.) The first brunt of the cross is saddest and sharpest: “No affliction for the present seemeth joyous, but grievous.”

(37.) Great outward troubles, whether personal or on public accounts, quicken and revive our apprehensions of eternity.

(38.) And always do us good; though not alike good to all, nor so sensibly, yet no cross but we get some good of it.

(39.) I found it very hard to appear before councils, and carry rightly. We seek rather to save ourselves in any lawful way, than to honour and give testimony for Christ; and there is not boldness and dependence on Christ for assistance.

(40.) There is not so much of the “Spirit of glory resting upon” sufferers as hath been formerly: which I think flows from these three; 1. That our testimony for Christ is not so glorious; 2. That a sadder shock is coming; and, lastly, That our sufferings are so moderate.

(41.) Yet, blessed be the Lord, for my part I have found the Lord in a special way with me in all my sufferings, and I never repent of any thing I have suffered for Christ.

(42.) Though the Lord can sanctify and bless any lot to his people, yet, to speak absolutely, an afflicted condition in the world is best for God’s people.

(43.) The infinite condescendence of God, and his gracious and tender nature, is that only which can be a bottom to our faith; to believe we suffer for Christ, and as such to be accepted and looked upon by him.

(44.) There is a large allowance for sufferers for righteousness; but many live not upon their allowance, and therefore look so ill upon it.³

Photo by Ross Sneddon on Unsplash

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What, however, if I turn from the past to the future? I can think and write about something that happened seven hundred years ago. What if I project my mind seven hundred years into the future? Can I tell you anything that about the year 2723? No! Remarkable as the gifts are that we humans possess the power to penetrate the future and speak of it as authoritatively as we do of the past is not one of them. We can try and guess. But that’s as far as it goes.

Let me introduce you to a man in the Bible who forms an exception. His name is Isaiah and in the book of the Bible that is named after him and which came from his pen he tells us about something that would (and did) take place seven hundred years on from when he lived. Here are his words: “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdoms, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will accomplish this” (Ch.9.6-7).

Most readers will know of whom Isaiah is speaking. If not you can probably guess, given that this is a Christmas message. Isaiah is speaking about Jesus. And amazingly, he is doing so seven hundred years before his birth in Bethlehem.

There is only one explanation for this that does justice to all the facts and it is this: Isaiah was God’s prophet. His calling in life was to declare to people whatever message God gave to him. Often it had to do with how things were in Isaiah’s own day. But God also had things for Isaiah to announce in advance; things that God was going to do at some future day. The prophecy above is an example. God is not subject to our limitations. He knows the future. He has it all planned out. And this was part of it. Seven hundred years on from Isaiah a very special child would be born – Jesus.

It’s only on one part of the prophecy that I want to touch, namely, the part that speaks about peace. The child to be born would be called Prince of Peace. It is said that “of the increase of his government and of peace” there would be no end. Jesus would be a ruler. And one of the blessings of his rule would be peace.

It’s one of these claims about Jesus that evokes a variety of negative responses – the raised eyebrow, the curled lip, the mirthless laugh, the dismissive shake of the head. And you understand why. We’re two thousand years on now from Jesus’ birth. Where’s the peace? Not in Ukraine. Not in Israel and Gaza. Not in lots of other places. Angels sang of “peace on earth” the very night that Jesus was born. “Aren’t we having to wait rather a long time for it?” someone asks.

Three comments.

The first is that there is no reconciling, peace-making force on earth to compare with the message of Jesus. It is true that his message divides. People take sides over it. But it also unites, as no other message does. When it truly takes hold of us it changes our hearts. Under its influence old hatreds die. We are able to forgive. We begin to love. Those whom once we loathed and would happily have killed are family now, our Christian brothers and sisters. And it hasn’t just happened with a few. Millions upon millions can bear testimony to the gospel’s healing power.

But there is a second comment that needs to be made. Strife among ourselves is not our biggest problem as human beings. Our biggest problem is our broken relationship with God. He has ever so many things against us on account of our innumerable sins. And we for our part don’t care for him at all. In fact we hate him. Jesus, the peace-maker, is the answer to that breakdown in relations too. Through his atoning death our sins can be justly forgiven. We can have what the Bible describes as peace with God. His controversy with us on account of our guilt can be settled once and for all. And at the same time Jesus can so powerfully work in our hearts that we begin to love God and count him our dearest friend.

A third comment to complete the picture. It has to do with the future; with another of the things that God has said will one day happen. Jesus is coming again. We don’t know when (for we haven’t been given a date) but it’s on God’s calendar. And what an event it will be! Jesus will make everything new. The longed-for peace will come. Isaiah’s vision will be fully realised. Jesus, Prince of Peace, will reign over our entire world. And the peace of his reign will be perfect, universal, righteous, and eternal.

But first things first. You must accept Jesus’ message. You must accept him. You must welcome him unconditionally as your peacemaker. Ask him to come and put you right with God by forgiving every sin God has against you. Ask him to give you a loving heart for God and for your fellow humans too. Ask him to make you a citizen of that peace-filled world of which he will one day be the lord. His promise is that you will not seek him in vain.

This piece first appeared on the blog of North Preston Evangelical Church, and is used here with permission.

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Hugh M’KAIL was born about the year 1640, and was educated at the University of Edinburgh, under the inspection of his uncle, Mr Hugh M’Kail, in whose family he resided. In the winter of 1661, he offered himself for trials for the ministry, before the presbytery of Edinburgh, being then about twenty years old; and being by them licensed, he preached several times with great acceptance. He preached his last public sermon, from Cant i. 7 {Song of Solomon 1:7}, in the High Church of Edinburgh, upon the Sabbath immediately preceding the 8th of September 1662, the day fixed by Parliament for the removal of the ministers of Edinburgh. In this sermon, taking occasion to speak of the great and many persecutions to which the Church of God had been and was subjected, and amplifying the point from the persons and powers that had been instrumental therein, he said, that the Church and people of God had been persecuted by a Pharaoh upon the throne, a Haman in the State, and a Judas in the Church; and these characters seemed so similar to those of the rulers of Church and State at the time, that though he made no particular application, he was reputed guilty. Whereupon, a few days after, a party of horse was sent to the place of his residence, near Edinburgh, to apprehend him; but upon little more than a moment’s warning, he escaped out of bed into another chamber, where he was preserved from the search. After this, he was obliged to return to his father’s house, near Liberton¹, and having lurked there for some time, he spent other four years in several other places before his death.

While he lived at his father’s house, troubles arose in the west; and the news thereof having alarmed him, for such motives and considerations as he himself afterwards more fully declares, he joined himself, upon the 18th of November 1666, to those who rose in these parts for the assistance of that poor afflicted party. [The reference here is to what was afterwards known as the ” Pentland Rising,” which was regarded as formidable enough at the time, but which originated in the following very simple and unpremeditated manner. Sir James Turner, who had distinguished himself by his military exactions and cruelty, had sent some of his soldiers to a small village about twenty miles from Dumfries, to seize the property of an old man who had incurred his displeasure for some religious offence. While they were maltreating him in the most brutal manner, some of the villagers ventured to remonstrate; but the soldiers having resented the interference, a scuffle ensued, and the old man was set free. It was now impossible to stop here, without exposing themselves, and the inhabitants of the district, to summary vengeance. Accordingly, many of their friends having joined them, they marched to Dumfries, where they surprised Sir James Turner and his garrison, and made them prisoners. Up till this time the movement had been quite accidental and unpremeditated, but now there came a necessity for more deliberate and determined action. Having received considerable reinforcements, and having been joined by many of the ablest and most influential of the Presbyterians, among whom was Lieutenant-Colonel Wallace, a gallant and distinguished officer, they marched under his command to Lanark, where they arrived on the evening of the 25th; and where, on the following day, they renewed the Covenants² in the most solemn manner. Their number at this time was about 1,500, the horsemen being armed for the most part with sword and pistol, but many of the foot soldiers only with scythes and pitchforks. Unfortunately, however, and as so often happened, difference of opinion sprang up among themselves, some wishing to give battle at once, and others urging the expediency of continuing their march eastwards, in the hope of receiving reinforcements in the Lothians.

After deliberation, the second course was adopted as the best; but, in consequence, many left for their homes. And when, after a terrible march in extremely tempestuous weather, the army arrived in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, it was reduced to a handful of about 900 men. To oppose them, General Dalyell had been sent out by the Government with a force of 3,000 fully equipped and disciplined soldiers. The battle, which followed on the 28th, and which took place on Rullion Green, one of the slopes of the Pentlands,

was nobly fought by the insurgents; although, with their disadvantages, the result could not be doubtful. The loss to the royal army was never known; but, on the side of the Presbyterians, about 50 were killed, and 100 surrendered on promise of quarter; which promise was, however, in many cases, shamefully violated. The killed were buried in trenches on the battle-field; and a monument, with the following inscription, still marks the spot where they fell:

“A cloud of witnesses lie here,

Who, for Christ’s interests, did appear;

For to restore true liberty,

O’ertumed then by tyranny.

These heroes fought with great renown;

By falling got the Martyr’s Crown!”

We shall not presume to say how far it was prudent, in their circumstances, to continue in arms, and brave the fury of the Government; but, in the words of Defoe, “we leave all those, who afterwards thought it lawful to join in the Revolution, and in taking arms against the oppressions and arbitrary government of King James, to judge whether these good men had not the same individual reasons and more for this Pentland expedition. And it is answer enough to all that shall read these sheets to say, that those men died for that lawful resisting of arbitrary power which has been justified as legal, and acknowledged to be justifiable by the practice and declaration of the respective Parliaments of both kingdoms.”-ED.]

Being of a tender constitution, by the toil, fatigue, and continual marching in tempestuous weather, Hugh M’Kail was so disabled and weakened, that he could no longer endure; and upon the 27th, the day before the battle, he was obliged to leave his comrades near Cramond water. On his way to Liberton parish, passing through Braid’s Craigs, he was taken without any resistance (having only a small ordinary sword) by some of the countrymen who were sent out to view the fields. And here it is observable that his former escape was no more miraculous than his present taking was fatal; for the least caution might have prevented this misfortune; but God, who gave him the full experience of His turning all things to the good of them that love Him, did thus prepare the way for His own glory, and His servant’s joy and victory. He was brought to Edinburgh, first to the Town Council house, where he was searched for letters; but none being found, he was committed prisoner to the Tolbooth. Upon Wednesday the 28th, he was, by order of the Secret Council, brought before the Earl of Dumfries, Lord Sinclair, Sir Robert Murray of Priestfield, and others, in order to his examination. Being interrogated concerning his joining the westland forces, he, conceiving himself not obliged by any law or reason to be his own accuser, did decline the question. After some reasoning, he was desired to subscribe his name, but refused; and this fact, when reported to the Council, gave them great offence, and brought him under some suspicion of being a dissembler. On the 29th he was again called, when, to allay this prejudice, he gave in a declaration under his own hand, testifying that he had been with the westland forces. Though it was certainly known that he had both formed and subscribed this acknowledgment the night before, yet they still persisted in their jealousy. Suspecting him to have been privy to all the designs of that party, they dealt with him with the greater importunity to declare an account of the whole business; and upon December 3, the Boots (a most terrible instrument of torture) were laid on the council-house table before him, and he was certified, that, if he would not confess, he would be tortured next day. Accordingly he was called before them, and, being urged to confess, he solemnly declared, that he knew no more than what he had already confessed; whereupon they ordered the executioner to put his leg in the Boot, and to proceed to the torture, to the number of ten or eleven strokes, with considerable intervals; yet all did not move him to express any impatience or bitterness. This torture was the cause of his not being indicted with the first ten, who were arraigned and sentenced on Wednesday, December 5, to be hanged on the Friday following. Many thought that his slight connection with the rising, and what he had suffered by torture, should have procured him some favour; but it was otherwise determined, for his former sermon was not forgotten, especially the words, “A Pharaoh upon the throne,” etc. Upon December 8, his brother went from Edinburgh to Glasgow, with a letter in his favour from the Marchioness of Douglas, and another from the Duchess of Hamilton, to the Lord Commissioner, but both proved ineffectual. His cousin, Mr Matthew M’Kail, carried another letter from the Marchioness of Douglas to the Archbishop of St Andrews for the same purpose, but with no better success. On Monday the 10th, he and other seven received their indictment of treason, and were summoned to appear before the Justices on Wednesday, December 12; but his torture and close imprisonment (for so it was ordered) had cast him into a fever, whereby he was utterly unable to make his appearance. Therefore, upon Tuesday the 11th, he gave in to the Lords of the Council a supplication, declaring his weak and sickly condition, craving that they would surcease any legal procedure against him, and that they would discharge him of the foresaid appearance. Hereupon the Council ordered two physicians and two chirurgeons to visit him, and to return their attestations, upon soul and conscience, betwixt that time and the morrow at ten o’clock, to the Justices. On December 16, he, being indifferently recovered, was with other three brought before the Justices, where the general indictment was read, founded both on old and recent Acts of Parliament, made against rising in arms, entering into leagues and covenants, and renewing the Solemn League and Covenant, without and against the King’s authority. Hugh M’Kail was particularly charged with joining the rebels at Ayr, Ochiltree, Lanark, and other places, on horseback. Hereupon, being permitted to answer, he spoke in his own defence, both concerning the charge laid against him, and likewise of the ties and obligations that were upon this land to God; commending the institution, dignity, and blessing of Presbyterian government; and said, that the last words of the national Covenant had always a great weight upon his spirit. Here he was interrupted by the King’s Advocate, who bade him forbear that discourse, and answer the question for the crime of rebellion. To this he answered, that the thing which moved him to declare as he had done, was that weighty important saying of our Lord Jesus: ” Whosoever shall confess Me before men, him shall the Son of Man also confess before the angels of God.” After the depositions of those examined anent him were read, with his replies to the same, the assize was inclosed; after which they gave their verdict unanimously, and by the mouth of Sir William Murray, their chancellor, reported him guilty. This being done, doom was pronounced, declaring and adjudging him and the rest to be taken on Saturday, December 20, to the market cross of Edinburgh, there to be hanged on a gibbet till dead, and their goods and lands to be escheated and forfeited for his Highness’ use. At the hearing of the sentence, he cheerfully said, ” The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord;” and he was then carried back to the Tolbooth through the guards, the people making lamentations for him by the way. After he came to his chamber, he immediately addressed himself to God in prayer, with great enlargement of heart, in behalf of himself and those who were condemned with him. Afterwards, he said to a friend, “O how good news; to be within four days’ journey to enjoy the sight of Jesus Christ;” and protested that he was not so cumbered how to die as he had sometimes been to preach a sermon. To some women lamenting for him, he said, that his condition, though he was but young, and in the budding of his hopes and labours in the ministry, was not to be mourned; “for one drop of my blood,” added he, “through the grace of God, may make more hearts contrite than many years’ sermons might have done.”  This afternoon he supplicated the Council for liberty to his father to visit him; which being granted, his father came next night, to whom he discoursed a little from the fifth commandment, concerning obedience to parents. After prayer, his father said to him, “Hugh, I have called thee a goodly olive-tree of fair fruit, and now a storm hath destroyed the tree and his fruit.” He answered, that his too good thought had afflicted him. His father said, that he was persuaded God was visiting not his own sins, but his parents’ sins, so that he might say, “Our fathers have sinned, and we have borne their inquity;” and added, “I have sinned; thou poor sheep, what hast thou done?” Hugh answered with many groans, that, through coming short of the fifth commandment, he had come short of the promise, that his days should be prolonged in the land of the living; and that God’s controversy with his father was for overvaluing his children, especially himself. Upon the 20th of December, through the importunity of friends, more than his own ‘inclination, he gave in a petition to the Council, craving their clemency, after having declared his own innocence; but it proved altogether ineffectual. During his abode in prison, the Lord was very graciously present with him, both to sustain him against the fears of death, and to expel the overcloudings of terror, unto which the best of men, through the frailty of flesh and blood, are sometimes subject. He was also wonderfully assisted in prayer and praise, to the admiration of all. On Thursday night, being at supper with his fellow-prisoners, his father, and one or two more, he said merrily to the former, “Eat to the full, and cherish your bodies, that we may be a fat Christmas-pie to the prelates.” After supper, in thanksgiving, he broke forth into several expressions, both concerning himself and the Church of God, and at last used that exclamation in the book of Daniel, “What, Lord, shall be the end of these wonders?” The last night of his life he propounded and answered several questions for the strengthening of his fellow-prisoners, among others the following:

“How should I go from the Tolbooth through a multitude of gazing people, and guards of soldiers, to a scaffold and gibbet, and overcome the impression of all this?” The answer was, “By conceiving a deeper impression of a multitude of angels, who are on-lookers; according to that saying, ‘We are a gazing-stock to the world, angels, and men:’ for the angels, rejoicing at our good confession, are present to convoy and carry our souls, as the soul of Lazarus, to Abraham’s bosom; not to receive them, for that is Jesus Christ’s work alone, who will welcome them to heaven Himself, with the songs of angels and blessed spirits; the angels are but ministering spirits, always ready to serve and strengthen dying believers.” “What is the way for us, who are hastening to it, to conceive of heaven, seeing the word saith, ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard?'” To this he answered, “that the Scripture helps us two ways to conceive of heaven : (1.) By way of similitude, as in Revelation 21, where heaven is held forth by the representation of a glorious city, there described; ( 2.) By holding forth the love of the saints to Jesus Christ, and teaching us to love Him in sincerity, which is the very joy and exultation of heaven (Revelation 5:12); and no other thing than the soul breathing forth love to Jesus Christ can rightly apprehend the joys of heaven.” The last words he spoke at supper were in commendation of love above knowledge. “Oh! notions of knowledge without love are of small worth, evanishing in nothing, and very dangerous.” After supper, his father having given thanks, he read the 16th Psalm, and then said, “If there be anything in the world sadly and unwillingly to be left, it were the reading of the Scriptures. I said, that I shall not see the Lord in the land of the living; but this needs not make us sad, for, where we go, the Lamb is the book of Scripture, and the light of the city; and there is life; even the River of the Water of Life, and living springs.” He then called for a pen, saying, it was to write his testament, wherein he ordered some few books he had to be delivered to several persons. He went to bed about eleven o’clock, and slept till five in the morning, when he arose and called for his comrade John Wodrow, saying pleasantly, “Up, John, for you are too long in bed; you and I look not like men going to be hanged this day, seeing we lie so long.” Then he spake to him in the words of Isaiah 43:24; and after some short discourse, John said to him, “You and I shall be chambered shortly beside Mr Robertson.” He answered, “John, I fear you bar me out, because you were more free before the Council than I was; but I shall be as free as any of you upon the scaffold;” adding, “I have got a clear ray of the majesty of the Lord after his awakening, but it was a little overclouded thereafter.” He then prayed with great fervency, pleading his covenant relation with Him, and that they might be enabled that day to witness a good confession before many witnesses. His father, coming to him, bade him farewell; to whom his last words were, that his sufferings would do more hurt to the prelates, and be more edifying to God’s people, than if he were to continue in the ministry twenty years. Then he desired his father to go to his chamber, and pray earnestly to the Lord to be with him on the scaffold; “for how to carry there,” said he, “is my care; even that I may be strengthened to endure to the end.” About two o’clock afternoon, he was brought to the scaffold, with other five who suffered with him; where, to the conviction of all that formerly knew him, he had a fairer and more stayed countenance than ever they had before observed. Being come to the foot of the ladder, he directed his speech to the multitude northward, saying, that as his years in the world had been but few, his words then should not be many, and he then addressed to the people the speech and testimony which he had before written and subscribed. Having done speaking, he sung a part of the 31st Psalm, and prayed with such power and fervency, as caused many to weep bitterly. Then he gave his hat and cloak from him; and taking hold of the ladder to go up, he said with an audible voice, “I care no more to go up this ladder, and over it, than if I were going home to my father’s house.” Hearing a noise among the people, he called down to his fellow-sufferers, saying, “Friends and fellow sufferers, be not afraid; every step of this ladder is a degree nearer heaven: “and having seated himself thereon, he said, “I do partly believe that the noble counsellors and rulers of this land would have used some mitigation of this punishment, had they not been instigated by the prelates, so that our blood lies principally at the prelates’ door; but this is my comfort, I know that my Redeemer liveth. And now I do willingly lay down my life for the truth and cause of God, the Covenants and work of Reformation, which were once counted the glory of this nation; and it is for endeavouring to defend this, and to extirpate that bitter root of Prelacy, that I embrace this rope” the executioner then putting the rope about his neck.  Hearing the people weep, he said, “Your work is not to weep but to pray, that we may be honourably borne through; and blessed be the Lord that supports me now. As I have been beholden to the prayers and kindness of many since my imprisonment and sentence, so I hope you will not be wanting to me now in the last step of my journey, that I may witness a good confession; and that ye may know what the ground of my encouragement in this work is, I shall read to you in the last chapter of the Bible;” which having read,  he said, “Here you see the glory that is to be revealed on me; a ‘pure river of water of life;’ and here you see my access to the glory and reward; ‘Let him that is athirst, come;’ and here you see my welcome; ‘The Spirit and the Bride say, Come.'” Then he said, “I have one word more to say to my friends. Ye need neither to lament nor be ashamed of me in this condition, for I may make use of that expression of Christ’s, ‘I ascend to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God,’ to my King and your King, to the blessed apostles and martyrs, and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly of the first-born, to God the Judge of all, to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant; and I bid you all farewell, for God will be more comfortable to you than I could be, and He will be now more refreshing to me than you can be. Farewell, farewell in the Lord!” The napkin being put on his face, he prayed a little, and putting it up with his hand, he said that he had a word more to say concerning what comfort he had in his death: “I hope you perceive no alteration or discouragement in my countenance and carriage, and as it may be your wonder, so I profess it is a wonder to myself: and I will tell you the reason of it. Besides the justice of my cause, my comfort is, what was said of Lazarus when he died, that the angels did carry his soul to Abraham’s bosom; so that as there is a great solemnity here, a confluence of people, a scaffold, a gallows, a people looking out of windows; so there is a greater and more solemn preparation of angels to carry my soul to Christ’s bosom. Again this is my comfort, that it is to come to Christ’s hand; He will present it blameless and faultless to the Father, and then shall I be ever with the Lord. And now I leave off to speak any more to creatures, and begin my intercourse with God, which shall never be broken off. Farewell father and mother, friends and relations; farewell the world and all delights; farewell meat and drink; farewell sun, moon, and stars; welcome God and Father; welcome sweet Jesus Christ, the Mediator of the new covenant; welcome blessed Spirit of grace, and God of all consolation; welcome glory; welcome eternal life; and welcome death!” Then he desired the executioner not to turm him over until he himself should put over his shoulders; which, after praying a little in private, he did, saying, “O Lord, into thy hands I commit my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.” And thus, in the 26th year of his age, he died, as he lived, in the Lord. His death was so much lamented by the onlookers and spectators, that there was scarcely a dry cheek seen in all the streets and windows about the Cross of Edinburgh, at the time of his execution. A late historian gives him this character, that “he was a youth of twenty-six years of age, universally beloved, singularly pious, and of very considerable learning. He had seen the world, and travelled some years abroad, and was of a very comely and graceful person. I am told,” says he, “that he used to fast one day every week, and had frequently, before this, signified to his friends his impression of such a death as he now underwent. His share in the Pentland rising was known to be but small; and when he spoke of comfort and joy in his death, heavy were the groans of those present.”

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Over the years, the Trust has published several books by Dr R. B. Kuiper. However, there are many readers throughout the world who are more familiar with the titles of Kuiper’s books than with the man himself. It is close on twenty-five years since Kuiper passed away. [Kuiper died on 22 April 1966 – Ed.]. He was a man of high spirituality and impeccable orthodoxy. It is appropriate, therefore, that a brief mention should be made of the outline of his varied, scholarly and fruitful life.

R. B. Kuiper (his real Christian names, being Dutch, were seldom used and ‘R.B.’ was the customary mode of addressing him) was born on January 31, 1886 in the province of Groningen in the North of Holland. He was one of a family of eight children born to the Rev. and Mrs Dominie Klaas Kuiper. The father was a minister of the Reformed Church and a man of staunch orthodoxy. Young Kuiper spent only the first five years of his life in Holland. In 1891 he sailed for New York. Dominie Kuiper, now 50 years old, had served three Christian Reformed Churches in the Netherlands. His future ministry was to be in the United States and young Kuiper grew up in the state of Michigan.

Kuiper took after his father in being gifted with a sharp intellect. He proved an excellent scholar at school and entered the University of Chicago in 1903. In 1908 he entered Theological School in Grand Rapids in order to prepare for the ministry of the Christian Reformed Church, at that time a denomination characterised by strong attachment to classical Calvinism. Here Kuiper proved a student of notable excellence. Intent on pursuing theological study he toyed with the idea of crossing to Scotland in order to study at the Free Church of Scotland College. Here he would have sat under Professors James Orr and James Denney. In the event, however, he opted to go to Princeton Seminary and here he became one of the distinguished students under B. B. Warfield and C. W. Hodge, Jnr. as well as of Geerhardus Vos. Warfield was at a later date to mention Kuiper’s intellectual talents to J. Gresham Machen at a critical time in the Presbyterian Church of the United States of America.

In 1911 he married a lady of Dutch background, Marie Janssen, who proved to be a worthy helpmeet to him in the work of the gospel throughout his long and serviceable ministry. There is a warm human touch in the anecdote which informs us that when a little girl was born to the Kuipers, Dr and Mrs B. B. Warfield sent a gift to the newborn child, and along with it a note which read as follows: ‘Dr and Mrs Warfield present their compliments to little Miss Kuiper, and beg to congratulate her on being born, and to thank her for being born in Princeton. Will she kindly accept these little pins as a souvenir of her birthplace April 9, 1912:

Kuiper was ordained to the Christian ministry in 1912 and was soon recognised by the churches as an outstanding preacher. He served several congregations of the Christian Reformed Church in Michigan. Perhaps a little surprisingly, he left the denomination for a time to become minister of the Reformed Church in America in its congregation at Kalamazoo. That was in the year 1923. However, he returned in 1925 to the Christian Reformed Church. This was the period of the ‘common grace controversy’.

R. B. Kuiper was to be Principal of three colleges during his lifetime. In 1930 he was invited to be President of Calvin College in Grand Rapids. This position he held until 1933. Great changes were taking place, however, at Princeton and in the Presbyterian church in the United States in these momentous years. The outstanding theologian and leader of the period was Dr J. Gresham Machen who, along with other conservative colleagues, left the declining Princeton Seminary in order to set up a thoroughly Reformed institution which would continue the old Princeton tradition. Thus it was that in 1929 Westminster Theological Society came into being in Philadelphia, Pennysylvania. Machen called Kuiper to serve in the Chair of Systematic Theology in the new Westminster Seminary and Kuiper agreed to come for one year. Fifty students enrolled at the Westminster Seminary in the September of 1929. There was a faculty of outstanding scholars attached to the new Seminary from the start: Robert Dick Wilson, Machen himself and O. T. Allis. These men were to be joined soon after by Paul Woolley and John Murray. In 1933 Kuiper returned to Westminster in order to become Professor of Practical Theology.

The sudden and unexpected death of Machen in 1937 came as a great shock to the Reformed world of the day. The loss of Machen was also felt in the numbers of students enrolling in the new institution of Westminster. In 1937 there were 30 men in training. By 1946 the number had gone down to five and in 1949 it reached an all-time low with only three men in training. However, after that year the numbers steadily increased so that by 1984 the number had risen to 109.

As Professor of Practical Theology it fell to Kuiper to instruct the young preachers under his charge. It is typical of his attitude that he could advise the students as follows: ‘Preach so simply that a child can understand you, and then the chances are the older people will understand you too.’ This was no call to superficiality or carelessness but took account of the fatal tendency of young men to preach in an academic style and in a way which is above the heads, of ordinary church members. One piece of advice that R. B. Kuiper was apt to give to students is worth recalling here: ‘a sermon on an Old Testament text must be a New Testament sermon’. The preacher, he believed, must do justice in handling his text to history, doctrine and ethics. Only in this way is he preaching the full gospel. Many a student had to unlearn his previous bad preaching habits and habits of preparation. One student, new to the Seminary practice of careful study of a text beforehand, gave himself away on one occasion with these words, ‘These commentaries sure do help, don’t they?’ Clearly he had not been in the habit of using them in the past.

In 1936 a new church came into being with the name of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church. The circumstances which gave rise to the formation of this new church are well known. Compromise and liberal thought had greatly weakened the Northern Presbyterian Church. Kuiper’s attitude to the Orthodox Presbyterian Church’s formation was ‘they had to do it. It was their solemn duty.’ He could see no alternative to the setting up of the new church separate from the now compromised older Presbyterian denomination. Kuiper did not hesitate to join the Orthodox Presbyterian Church. This was the third denomination of which he was to be a minister.

Kuiper remained at Westminster Theological Seminary until 1952 when he left to return to Grand Rapids. Shortly after he left also the Orthodox Presbyterian Church in order to return once again to the Christian Reformed Church in which he had been reared. In that same year he was appointed by the C.R.C. to teach Practical Theology in the Calvin Seminary. He was further honoured by being installed as the President of that institution, a position he held until his retirement in 1956. R. B. Kuiper goes on to record as stating that a seminary professor must be both godly and learned. Both are essential to an efficient professor’s ministry as he prepares younger men for the work of the gospel ministry. It saddened Kuiper in his declining years to see his beloved church, the Christian Reformed Church, increasingly departing from the standards of classical Calvinism through the absorption of modern and more liberal thought.

Kuiper passed to his eternal rest in the early morning hours of April 22,1966. His daughter and son were at his side. He left a legacy of fine Christian books behind him. Some of these have been recently published by the Trust. The Bible Tells Us So was Kuiper’s last literary work and it was not completed, although the portion he did finish before his death is a worthy and helpful contribution. God-centered Evangelism appeared in 1961 and came out in a British edition in 1966. It is regarded as one of the most comprehensive and helpful works on all aspects of evangelism. However, it was Professor John Murray’s belief that Kuiper’s ‘masterpiece’ was his book The Glorious Body of Christ. All who have read that volume will know what a mine of practical thought it represents on all aspects of the Christian Church’s life and witness.

The biography of R. B. Kuiper, written by his son-in-law, Edward Heerema, was published in 1986 under the title R. B.: A Prophet in the Land¹. Kuiper’s life and ministry spans the critical period from orthodoxy at the beginning of this century, through the period of turmoil and theological decline in the ’20s and ’30s and up to the period of the Reformed reconstruction in America in the more recent years of this century. So eminent a servant of Christ must not be forgotten and we trust that the semi-jubilee of his death in April of this year will be suitably remembered by a fresh study of his biography and of his printed writings.

Featured Photo by Dan Gomer on Unsplash

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