The Wanderer

To make the most of our reading, we need to be critical readers in the best and fullest sense of the word, engaging with the text rather than having it simply flow around or over us.  I remember borrowing a book from a friend a few years ago, and being struck by the manner in which he was wrestling with the text, investigating, questioning, arguing and commending the book as he went.  My own system for reading developed further after that experience, as I sought to be an active rather than a passive reader.

Justin Taylor has recently posted two helpful pieces drawing on Morton Adler’s How To Read A Book.

In one, he identifies a passage concerning critical evaluation that had a significant impact on him:

Every author has had the experience of suffering book reviews by critic who did not feel obligated to do the work of the first two stages [see below] first. The critic too often thinks he does not have to be a reader as well as a judge. Every lecturer has also had the experience of having critical questions asked that were not based on any understanding of what he had said. You yourself may remember an occasion where someone said to a speaker, in one breath or at most two, “I don’t know what you mean, but I think you’re wrong.”

There is actually no point in answering critics of this sort. The only polite thing to do is to ask them to state your position for you, the position they claim to be challenging. If they cannot do it satisfactorily, if they cannot repeat what you have said in their own words, you know that they do not understand, and you are entirely justified in ignoring their criticisms. They are irrelevant, as all criticism must be that is not based on understanding. When you find the rare person who shows that he understands what you are saying as well as you do, then you can delight in his agreement or be seriously disturbed by his dissent. (pp. 144-145)

Taylor ties in this principle with the golden rule: suggesting that this “is really the answer to the question: How, when reading, do I do unto others as I would have done unto me, and how do I love my neighbor as I love myself?”

In another post, Taylor provides Adler’s framework of three stages for analytical reading, answering the questions (1) What is this book about as a whole? (2) What is being said in detail, and how? and (3) Is it true? What of it?

Stage 1: What Is the Book About as a Whole?

Rule 1. You must know what kind of book you are reading, and you should know this as early in the process as possible, preferably before you begin to read. / Classify the book according to kind and subject matter. (p. 60)

Rule 2. State the unity of the whole book in a single sentence, or at most a few sentences (a short paragraph). State what the whole book is about with the utmost brevity. (pp. 75-76)

Rule 3. Set forth the major parts of the book, and show how these are organized into a whole, by being ordered to one another and to the unity of the whole. / Enumerate its major parts in their order and relation, and outline these parts as you have outlined the whole. (p. 76)

Rule 4. Find out what the author’s problems were. / Define the problem or problems the author has tried to solve. (p. 92)

Stage 2: What Is Being Said in Detail, and How?

Rule 5. Find the important words and through them come to terms with the author. / Come to terms with the author by interpreting his key words. (p. 98)

Rule 6. Mark the most important sentences in a book and discover the propositions they contain. / Grasp the author’s leading propositions by dealing with his most important sentences. (p. 120)

Rule 7. Locate or construct the basic arguments in the book by finding them in the connections of sentences. / Know the author’s arguments, by finding them in, or constructing them out of, sequences of sentences. (p. 120)

Rule 8. Find out what the author’s solutions are. / Determine which of his problems the author has solved, and which he has not; and as to the latter, decide which the author knew he had failed to solve. (p. 135)

Stage 3: Is It True? What of It?

General Maxims of Intellectual Etiquette

Rule 9. You must be able to say, with reasonable certainty, “I understand,” before you can say any one of the following things: “I agree,” or “I disagree,” or “I suspend judgment.” / Do not begin criticism until you have completed your outline and your interpretation of the book. (pp. 142-143)

Rule 10. When you disagree, do so reasonably, and not disputatiously or contentiously. (p. 145)

Rule 11. Respect the difference between knowledge and mere personal opinion, by giving reasons for any critical judgment you make. (p. 150)

Special Criteria for Points of Criticism

Rule 12. Show wherein the author is uninformed.

Rule 13. Show wherein the author is misinformed.

Rule 14. Show wherein the author is illogical.

Rule 15. Show wherein the author’s analysis or account is incomplete.

For more fulsome notes on the book, we are directed to Brian Fulthorp’s series.

I was interested to note the overlap with John Updike’s rules for reviewing.  He wrote:

My rules, shaped intaglio-fashion by youthful traumas at the receiving end of critical opinion, were and are:

1. Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.

2. Give him enough direct quotation–at least one extended passage–of the book’s prose so the review’s reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste.

3. Confirm your description of the book with quotation from the book, if only phrase-long, rather than proceeding by fuzzy precis.

4. Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending. (How astounded and indignant was I, when innocent, to find reviewers blabbing, and with the sublime inaccuracy of drunken lords reporting on a peasants’ revolt, all the turns of my suspenseful and surpriseful narrative! Most ironically, the only readers who approach a book as the author intends, unpolluted by pre-knowledge of the plot, are the detested reviewers themselves. And then, years later, the blessed fool who picks the volume at random from a library shelf.)

5. If the book is judged deficient, cite a successful example along the same lines, from the author’s ouevre or elsewhere. Try to understand the failure. Sure it’s his and not yours?

To these concrete five might be added a vaguer sixth, having to do with maintaining a chemical purity in the reaction between product and appraiser. Do not accept for review a book you are predisposed to dislike, or committed by friendship to like. Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any tradition, an enforcer of any party standards, a warrior in an ideological battle, a corrections officer of any kind. Never, never (John Aldridge, Norman Podhoretz) try to put the author “in his place,” making him a pawn in a contest with other reviewers. Review the book, not the reputation. Submit to whatever spell, weak or strong, is being cast. Better to praise and share than blame and ban. The communion between reviewer and his public is based upon the presumption of certain possible joys in reading, and all our discriminations should curve toward that end.

Interesting here is the notion of avoiding being some objective arbiter, defending no tradition, enforcing no standard, fighting no battle, correcting no error.  Does this really provide for interesting reviews?  Furthermore, I am not sure that any Christian reviewer can afford that perspective: by very definition, we are engaged on matters of truth and error, poison and tonic.  Surely reviews – in keeping with other writing, and not overlooking or ignoring the golden rule – are necessary opportunities for the very thing that Mr Updike would deny?

Brent C.M.

Come, merciful and mighty God,
And break these hearts of stone:
Your word the heavenly instrument,
The power yours alone.

These stubborn wills conform to yours;
To feeble minds give light;
Put fire into these empty hearts;
Exert your gracious might.

Give life where death is ruling now:
Prove Jesus Satan’s bane!
Break every chain, throw wide the door,
Let glorious freedom reign.

May Christ be Lord of every life,
And King of every heart;
Break sin’s dominion; cleanse, renew,
And righteousness impart.

Come, merciful and mighty God,
We look to you alone;
Exert your power: give hearts of flesh
In place of hearts of stone.

©JRW

See all hymns and psalms.

While we bemoan the lack of both in the modern world, Alan Jacobs intriguingly suggests that the absence of space and silence are simply a reversion to the environment all too familiar to our not-so-distant ancestors.

What are our reactions to the present national and global economic crises?  Augustine – as he occasionally did – had some insights:

Many weep with the weeping of Babylon, because they rejoice also with the joy of Babylon. When men rejoice at gains and weep at losses, both are of Babylon. You ought to weep, but in the remembrance of Sion. If you weep in the remembrance of Sion, you ought to weep even when it is well with you in Babylon.  (Augustine, Exposition on Psalm 137)

HT: Gene Veith.

Z highlights six simple ways to meet our wife’s need for our affection:

1. Touch her arm or knee when you talk with her. Your gentle touch communicates, “I’m here. You’re not alone. I enjoy you. I’ll take care of you.”
2. Make an effort to spend time alone together – go out for dinner, for a walk, or out for coffee. Show her (and others) that you enjoy the intimacy of being alone with her.
3. Grab her hand and hold it when you’re out in public.
4. Give her a kiss and a hug when you leave and return home.
5. Don’t see every complaint as an attack. Women think as long as they feel the marriage is working, they can talk about it. On the other hand, most men feel the relationship isn’t working if they have to talk about it. Allow her to express what’s on her mind.
6. Recognize her strong emotions as exclamation marks. When she is upset, angry, or frustrated, realize that these emotions are her way of letting you know how much the issue at hand matters to her.

At the risk of appearing crass, can I point out that with the possible, occasional exception of number two, these cost nothing but time, effort, and consideration.

My friend Johnny Farese sends out material from Don Carson posted online by Monergism.  Taken from A Call to Spiritual Reformation, here Dr Carson provides some of the excuses we make for a failure to pray:

I Am Too Busy

Lillian Guild tells an amusing story of an occasion when she and her husband were driving along and happened to notice a late-model Cadillac with its hood up, parked at the side of the road. Its driver appeared somewhat perplexed and agitated. Mrs. Guild and her husband pulled over to see if they could offer assistance. The stranded driver hastily and somewhat sheepishly explained that he had known when he left home that he was rather low on fuel, but he had been in a great hurry to get to an important business meeting so he had not taken time to full up his tank. The Cadillac needed nothing more than refueling. The Guilds happened to have a spare gallon of fuel with them, so they emptied it into the thirsty Cadillac, and told the other driver of a service station a few miles down the road. Thanking them profusely, he sped off.

Twelve miles or so later, they saw the same car. Hood up, stranded at the side of the road. The same driver, no les bemused than the first time, and even more agitated, was pathetically grateful when they pulled over again. You guessed it: he was in such a hurry for his business meeting that he had decided to skip the service station and press on in the dim hope that the gallon he had received would take him to his destination.

It is hard to believe anyone would be so stupid, until we remember that that is exactly how many of us go about the business of Christian living. We are so busy pressing on to the next item on the agenda that we choose not to pause for fuel. Sadly, Christian leaders may be among the worst offenders. Faced with constant and urgent demands, they find it easy to neglect their calling to the ministry of the Word and prayer because they are so busy. Indeed, they are tempted to invest all of their activity with transcendental significance, so that although their relative prayerlessness quietly gnaws away at the back of their awareness, the noise and pain can be swamped by the sheer importance of all the tings they are busily doing.

I Feel Too Dry Spiritually To Pray

Hidden behind this excuse are two presuppositions that are really quite monstrous. The first is that the acceptability of my approach to God in prayer out to be tied to how I feel. But is God especially impressed with us when we feel joyful or carefree or well rested or pious? Is not the basis of any Christian’s approach to the heavenly Father the sufficiency of Christ’s mediating work on our behalf? Is not this a part of what we mean when we pray “in Jesus’ name”? Are we not casting a terrible slur on the cross when we act as if the usefulness or acceptability of our prayers turns on whether we feel full or dry? True, when we feel empty and dispirited we may have to remind ourselves a little more forcefully that the sole reason why God accepts us is the grace that he ha bestowed upon us in the person and work of his Son. But that is surely better than giving the impression that we are somehow more fit to pray when we feel good.

The second unacceptable presupposition behind this attitude is that my obligation to pray is somehow diminished when I do not feel like praying. This is to assign to my mood or my feelings the right to determine what I ought to do. And that, of course, is unbearably self-centered. It means that I, and I alone, determine what is my duty, my obligation. In short, it means that I am y own god. It is to act as if the Bible never says, “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer” (Rom. 12:12, emphasis added).

I Feel No Need To Pray

This excuse is a trifle trickier than the first two. Few of us are so crass that we self-consciously reason, “I am too important to pray. I am too self-confident to pray. I am too independent to pray.” Instead, what happens is this: Although abstractly I may affirm the importance of prayer, in reality I may treat prayer as important only in the lives of other people, especially those whom I judge to be weaker in character, more needy, less competent, less productive. Thus, while affirming the importance of prayer, I my not feel deep need for prayer in my own life. I may be getting along so well without much praying that my self-confidence is constantly being reinforced. That breeds yet another round of prayerlessness.

What is God’s response? If Christians who shelter beneath such self-assurance do not learn better ways by listening to the Scriptures, God may address them in the terrible language of tragedy. We serve a God who delights to disclose himself to the contrite, to the lowly of heart, to the meek. When God finds us so puffed up that we do not feel our need for him, it is an act of kindness on his part to take us down a peg or two; it would be an act of judgment to leave us in our vaulting self-esteem.

I Am Too Bitter To Pray

We cannot live long in this world without coming across injustice, chronic lack of fairness. Many of us accept such sin with reasonable equanimity, reasoning that it is, after all, a fallen world. But when the injustice or unfairness is directed against us, our reaction may be much less philosophical. Then we may nurture a spirit of revenge, or at least of bitterness, malice, and gossip. Such sins in turn assure that our prayers are never more than formulaic; eventually such sin may lead to chronic prayerlessness. “How can I be expected to pray when I have suffered so much?” “Don’t talk to me about praying for my enemies: I know who has kept me from being promoted.”

Life itself is consumed by the petty assessment of how well you are perceived by those around you. In this morass of self-pity and resentment, real prayer is squeezed out. In other words, many of us do not want to pray because we know that disciplined, biblical prayer would force us to eliminate sin that we rather cherish. It is very hard to pray with compassion and zeal for someone we much prefer to resent.

I Am Too Ashamed To Pray

Shame encourages us to hide from the presence of God; shame squirrels behind a masking foliage of pleasantries while refusing to be honest; shame foster flight and escapism; shame engenders prayerlessness.

We cannot successfully hide from God anyway, “for a man’s ways are in full view of the LORD, and he examines all his paths” (Prov. 5:21). “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account” (Heb. 4:13). But if it is futile to run from God, our sense of shame can scarcely be an adequate ground to excuse our prayerlessness. Rather, it ought to be a goad that drives us back to the only one who can forgive us and grant us utter absolution, back to the freedom of conscience and the boldness in prayer that follow in the wake of the joyful knowledge that we have been accepted by a holy God because of his grace.

I Am Content With Mediocrity

Some Christians want enough of Christ to be identified with him but not enough to be seriously inconvenienced; they genuinely cling to basic Christian orthodoxy but do not want to engage in serious Bible study; they value moral probity, especially of the public sort, but do not engage in war against inner corruptions; they fret over the quality of the preachers sermon but do not worry much over the quality of their own prayer life. Such Christians are content with mediocrity.

Scott Thomas muses about things he would do differently if he were planting a church today.  While I start at a slightly different point from Scott, I think that these are things that many pastors would do well to consider, especially those of us labouring to break into the communities in which we live, to see God glorified.

His seven reflections are as follows:

1.    I would expose the gospel to the fullest extent as possible in every context, relationship, conflict and teaching.

2.    I would connect with God as I connected culture.

3.    I would focus on developing missional communities as expressions of the gospel in as many communities as possible.

4.    I would focus on developing young men for the mission of Jesus.

5.    I would train leaders relentlessly.

6.    I would get a coach. [not a vehicle]

7.    I would enjoy the journey of church planting.

Read it all.

Paul Wallace quotes some sobering words from Isaac Watts and John Guyse, drawn from the preface to A Faithful Narrative of the Surprising Work of God in The Works of Jonathan Edwards (Banner of Truth Trust, Edinburgh, 1:344):

There has been a great and just complaint for many years among the ministers and churches in Old England, and in New, (except about the time of the late earthquake there,) that the work of conversion goes on very slowly, that the Spirit of God in his saving influences is much withdrawn from the ministrations of his word, and there are few that receive the report of the gospel, with any eminent success upon their hearts. But as the gospel is the same divine instrument of grace still, as ever it was in the days of the apostles, so our ascended Saviour now and then takes a special occasion to manifest the divinity of this gospel by a plentiful effusion of his Spirit where it is preached: then sinners are turned into saints in numbers, and there is a new face of things spread over a town or a country. The wilderness and the solitary places are glad, the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose ; and surely concerning this instance we may add, that they have seen the glory of the Lord there, and the excellency of our God;they have seenthe out-goings of God our King in his sanctuary. Certainly it becomes us, who profess the religion of Christ, to take notice of such astonishing exercises of his power and mercy, and give him the glory which is due, when he begins to accomplish any of his promises concerning the latter days: and it gives us further encouragement to pray, and wait, and hope for the like display of his power in the midst of us. The hand of God is not shortened that it cannot save, but we nave reason to fear that our iniquities, our coldness in religion, and the general carnality of our spirits, have raised a wall of separation between God and us: and we may add, the pride and perverse humour of infidelity, degeneracy, and apostacy from the Christian faith, which have of late years broken out amongst us, seem to have provoked the Spirit of Christ to absent himself much from our nation. “Return, O Lord, and visit thy churches, and revive thine own work in the midst of us.”

Matt helps us to minimise and utilize interruptions – the former means as much not distracting ourselves as not allowing ourselves to be distracted, and the latter involves making the most of fruitful interruptions to spur thought and innovation.  There are some helpful thoughts here.

Gary Brady has his eclectic tongue somewhat in his cheek, though not entirely, and points out some of Life’s ironies while also managing to poke fun at Cardinal Bellarmine as he explains that you cannot remember More than seven.

When John Newton was wrestling with entering the pastoral ministry, he worked through his thoughts, fears, and concerns on paper.

Marylynn Rouse has transcribed that material from Newton’s diary and it is now available as a booklet entitled Ministry On My Mind: John Newton on Entering Pastoral Ministry.  Michael Haykin has reviewed the booklet here and believes that this work deserves to go on the short list of books which every man aspiring to pastoral ministry needs to read.  Other reviews are available here.

The iMonk predicts the end of evangelicalism as we know it.

Some of what he predicts is already taking place.  We call it Europe.

Scott Clark says, “Yes.”

Mark Rogers says he has been seeking greater efficiency and effectiveness, but is rebuked by the example of the Baptist missionary William Carey, who described himself as “a plodder”.  Mark quotes from a letter written in 1806, in which Carey describes a typical day of work at the Serampore mission:

I rose this day at a quarter to six, read a chapter in the Hebrew Bible, and spent the time till seven in private addresses to God and then attended family prayer with the servants in Bengalee. While tea was pouring out, I read a little in Persian with a Moonshi [a native assistant or secretary] who was waiting, when I left my bed room. Read also before breakfast a portion of the Scriptures in Hindoosthanee.

The moment breakfast was over sat down to the translation of the Ramayuna [a classical Indian epic] from Sangskrit, with a Pundit … continued this translation till ten o’clock, at which time I went to [Fort William] College, and attended duties there [teaching Bengali, Sanskrit, and Marathi] till between one and two o’clock – When I returned home I examined a proof sheet of the Bengalee translation of Jeremiah, which took till dinner time….

After dinner translated with the assistance of the chief Pundit of the College, greatest part of the 8th Chap. of Matthew, into Sangskrit-this employed me until six o’clock, after six sat down with a Tilingua Pundit … to learn that Language. Mr. Thomas [an acquaintance] called in the evening; I began to collect a few previous thoughts into the form of a Sermon, at Seven o’clock, and preached in English at half past seven … the Congregation was gone by nine o’clock. I then sat down to write to you, after this I conclude the Evening by reading a Chapter in the Greek testament, and commending myself to God. I have never more time in a day than this, though the exercises vary.

This edited version comes from Christian History and Biography, Issue 36.  You can read the entire letter in multiple locations, including here.

HT: Matt.

Jim Savastio posts the following reminder and rebuke at the Reformed Baptist Fellowship:

One of the arguments that is sometimes brought forward in defending the inspiration of the Bible is it’s brutal honesty regarding some of it’s leading figures.  We learn about Noah’s drunkenness, we learn about Abraham’s lies, the disobedience of Moses, the failures of Joshua, the adultery of David and so forth.  As we move into the New Testament we find that the apostles are not always cast in the best light.  They are doubtful, fearful, and ignorant.  But nowhere do they come across worse than in the depiction of their pride in arguing repeatedly over the identity of the greatest among them.   We have since answered that question. Paul is the greatest of the apostles, right?  Or is it Peter?  Perhaps the greatest is really John!   Perhaps we have not answered that question, but we do seek to answer this one…who is the greatest preacher that you have ever heard (I saw this ‘contest’ on line recently among Reformed Baptists-and by the way, I lost!)?   Who is the greatest writer of our generation?  What is the list of the most influential churches in our land?  Who has the most converts, the most impact, the most downloads, the most sales?   Who is the greatest in the kingdom?   We do not need to argue the point.  Jesus has already told us…it is the person who is lowest in their own eyes, it is the person who serves the most, who gives of themselves without recognition.  I remember years ago one of my professors from Bible College illustrating this truth by presenting a picture of the last day.  The Lord Jesus is about to hand out a grand reward.  The eyes of all are upon Him as we wonder, who will receive it?  Augustine?  Luther?  Calvin?  Edwards?  Spurgeon?  Lloyd-Jones?  Piper?    The Lord Jesus pauses before the aged lady in a small church, who gave her widow’s mite, who washed the feet of the saints, and who poured out her life in ardent prayer.  Unseen by men, unheralded by church historians, she was nonetheless seen and rewarded by her Savior.  Do you want to be great in the kingdom?  Nothing wrong with that…but hurry up and get to the back of the line!

How easy to agree, how hard to practice.  Let us not be hearers only, but doers also . . .

Eden L.M.

Behold the blessèd Lamb of God,
Who for the world poured out his blood;
He died and suffered on the tree
That men the grace of God might see.

Behold the bleeding Sacrifice -
Salvation at unmeasured price.
He came to this dark world below,
God’s greatest blessing to bestow.

Behold the Saviour, Christ the King,
Let all his ransomed people sing
Of him, who to redeem us died,
But reigns now at the Father’s side.

©JRW

See all hymns and psalms.

Over the last few days it seems as if the physical needs of the flock have come to the fore.  Last weekend, one of the friends in the church fell, broke ribs and ruptured his spleen.  On Wednesday, one of the members – a man with epilepsy and special needs – fell and broke his arm, as well has having another medical appointment to which I accompanied him (one of those where it seems impossible to determine where the pastoral ends and the diaconal begins).  Alongside of these crises, there are several members with chronic conditions which seem to be erupting in various ways at this time.  Finally, there is a young woman in the church here who is shortly to undergo surgery to remove a cancerous tumour.  I therefore spent a fair amount of time in hospitals over the last week or so, and expect to do so again in coming days, seeking to minister to and encourage those whom I serve here.  I recall one very good piece of advice that a friend gave me for such times as these: “Don’t try and teach anyone something new when they are lying in a hospital bed.  Just remind them of sweet and simple truths.”  It was a good lesson.

I also had a good time meeting with a friend to study more in John Angell James’ excellent book, An Earnest Ministry: The Want of the Times.  In language that echoes Ryle on zeal, James describes an earnest ministry as one taken up with a single object:

The design of the pulpit is identical with that of the cross: and the preacher is to carry out the design of the Saviour in coming to seek and to save that which was lost. Preaching and teaching are the very agency which Jesus Christ employs to save those souls for which he died upon Calvary. If souls are not saved, whatever other designs are accomplished, the great purpose of the ministry is defeated.[1]

Taking the salvation of souls in the broadest sense, he urges ministers to make the conversion of sinners their great aim without neglecting the building up of those already saved.

On Friday night I went out looking again for our young friends on the park.  Though I went through various parts of town as well as Maidenbower, there was no sign.  On Saturday I was preparing to preach on the Lord’s day, and I found the going very slow.  I managed the spadework quite rapidly, but the sermon itself came slowly, largely through my own distractedness.  Having eventually completed my work, I went back out to Maidenbower, and found three lads on the square, including one whom I already knew.  I spoke with them for about half an hour, and I hope was able to impress upon them the seriousness of sin and the need of salvation, and answer some of their questions.  They find even the conversation bewildering, let alone its substance.  However, I did manage to get a mobile number for a lad who I think has some influence, and suggested that they get a few friends together and come to the church building one cold Friday or Saturday night: I would get fifteen minutes to speak to them, and then we would see if we could provide hot food and drinks.  They seemed fairly positive, and I hope to follow them and this opportunity up.

On the Lord’s day I had the Sunday School and the morning worship as my responsibility.  In the Sunday School we finally returned to the series on the Christian family, and I began to deal again with the responsibilities of parents in training and nurturing their children, beginning with the spiritual development of a child.  We’re taking Luke 2:51-52 as setting out four spheres in which we are to bring our children to maturity, under God.  After some review and preparatory material, we plunged into the need to ensure that our children learn to see the world in which they live and the life which they live in the world through the lenses of God’s Word, and the parents responsibility to bring that to bear (Dt 6.4-7).

Then in the morning worship I continued in Nehemiah 1, building on Nehemiah’s concern for God’s kingdom to consider Nehemiah’s prayer for God’s kingdom.  Considering Nehemiah’s prayer of Nehemiah 1:5-11, a prayer for the people of God and the city of God, we identified four elements in the prayer of a man who desires or delights to fear the Lord.

Nehemiah looks up in adoration and humility to the Lord God of heaven.  His whole prayer begins with and is conditioned by a Scripturally-accurate view of the living God in his sovereignty, power, awesomeness, mercy, faithfulness, revelation and attentiveness, a perspective that breeds faith and expectation in the one who prays even as it glorifies God.

Next, Nehemiah looks within in confession and repentance.  His awareness of sin lies in two directions and in two dimensions.  He is conscious of man corrupted and God offended, and he is conscious of his responsibility both as a member of and representative of God’s people, and as an individual before God.  He enters in on every level: sin is not a matter of others, of “them”, but of “we/I” and “us/me.”

Then, Nehemiah looks back in remembrance and gratitude.  He grounds himself in God’s words and God’s deeds, his promises (“I will scatter” and “I will gather”) and his saving acts.  He quotes God’s promises back to him, claiming the attention that God’s own inheritance merits.

Finally, Nehemiah looks around and ahead in confidence and hope.  He builds to the point of petition, which is general, from a sense of unity.  Nehemiah consciously stands in company with all those who together desire to fear the Lord.  But he is also specific, from a sense of purpose.  Nehemiah has not been idle, but has laid plans for the glory of God and the blessing of the people and the city, plans in which King Artaxerxes is the key.  He asks God to bless his plans, and the mighty emperor becomes “this man” in the perspective of one who is dealing with the Lord of heaven.

As I went along, I sought to draw lessons for our own perspectives and prayers.  I had also hoped to show how Nehemiah’s prayer, though fine-tuned for the people of God, provides a broad outline appropriate for all who would draw near to God.  However, as I was drawing to a close, someone in the congregation was suddenly and violently stricken with a known and recurrent problem, and the service was sufficiently disrupted to render its attempted continuance pointless (if you listen to the sermon, that will explain the somewhat abrupt ending – I was jumping out of the pulpit to help!).

In addition to the follow up to all these things, I have been invited to preach at a young people’s conference in Holland in February.  I have at least six sermons, and I think I have three-ish done so far.  Most of the topics are fundamental matters of Biblical Christianity, but trying to capture the essence in a brief sermon is not a simple matter.  I am seeking to take what I call an ‘epitomising text’ for most of the sermons, and to develop the matter from there.  If you remember, I would value your prayers as I seek to prepare and then deliver these sermons in this exciting environment, rich with potential for God’s glory.

While the following fifteen points from John Piper have some grounding in US law and culture, the fundamental points apply in the UK also.  Use these things to make a cogent defence of the truth, and of the life of the baby in the womb, and that baby’s right to the life that God has given him or her:

“You will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” – Jesus Christ

1. Existing fetal homicide laws make a man guilty of manslaughter if he kills the baby in a mother’s womb (except in the case of abortion).

2. Fetal surgery is performed on babies in the womb to save them while another child the same age is being legally destroyed.

3. Babies can sometimes survive on their own at 23 or 24 weeks, but abortion is legal beyond this limit.

4. Living on its own is not the criterion of human personhood, as we know from the use of respirators and dialysis.

5. Size is irrelevant to human personhood, as we know from the difference between a one-week-old and a six-year-old.

6. Developed reasoning powers are not the criterion of personhood, as we know from the capacities of three-month-old babies.

7. Infants in the womb are human beings scientifically by virtue of their genetic make up.

8. Ultrasound has given a stunning window on the womb that shows the unborn at eight weeks sucking his thumb, recoiling from pricking, responding to sound. All the organs are present, the brain is functioning, the heart is pumping, the liver is making blood cells, the kidneys are cleaning fluids, and there is a fingerprint. Virtually all abortions happen later than this date.

9. Justice dictates that when two legitimate rights conflict, the limitation of rights that does the least harm is the most just. Bearing a child for adoption does less harm than killing him.

10. Justice dictates that when either of two people must be inconvenienced or hurt to alleviate their united predicament, the one who bore the greater responsibility for the predicament should bear more of the inconvenience or hurt to alleviate it.

11. Justice dictates that a person may not coerce harm on another person by threatening voluntary harm on themselves.

12. The outcast and the disadvantaged and exploited are to be cared for in a special way, especially those with no voice of their own.

13. What is happening in the womb is the unique person-nurturing work of God, who alone has the right to give and take life.

14. There are countless clinics that offer life and hope to both mother and child (and father and parents), with care of every kind lovingly provided by people who will meet every need they can.

15. Jesus Christ can forgive all sins, and will give all who trusts him the help they need to do everything that life requires.

From Mark Driscoll’s latest blurb on Vintage Church:

In chapter 2 of Vintage Church we answer the question, “What Is the Christian Church?” We felt this important [sic] was incredibly important as there has not been a serious consideration of the issue since the days of the Protestant Reformation. Furthermore, in our age of churches of all kinds including multi-site churches with video preachers, and even online virtual churches it is imperative that church leaders, as well as the average Christian who wants to be part of a church, to have a biblical understanding of what is and what is not a church.  [emphasis mine]

If the highlighted phrase is not utter pants, then kindly fax me an explanation of what is!

I appreciate the stimulating challenges that Mark often brings to my thinking, even if I am not finally persuaded by his exegesis or application.  I value the fact that he is interacting with the issues raised by the world in which we live, and not the world we would like to live in or the world that our forefathers lived in.  I have not yet read Vintage Church, and I look forward to doing so (I should be interested to see how/if Mark seeks Biblically to justify such things as multi-site churches and virtual churches).

However, to declare that no-one has seriously considered the issue of the church since the Protestant Reformation is such an historically myopic declaration that it deserves special notice.  In fairness, it may be that Mark means that some or most of the fundamental assumptions laid down at the Reformation have not been challenged as he would wish in the centuries since then.  However, if he is suggesting that no-one has engaged and interacted with the issues, wrestled with matters of Christian polity and practice, and advanced our Scriptural understanding of the identity, nature and purpose of God’s redeemed people in the world then he is sadly mistaken, and such one-eyed and seemingly arrogant statements will do nothing for his credibility.

Justin Taylor points us to a new volume published by Crossway: Living Water: Studies in John 4 – 56 previously unpublished sermons by D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones.

He also provides a magnificent excerpt which is reproduced below.  Though the baptism of the Spirit is an issue on which many would disagree, certainly there is no doubt that – though the initial sealing of the Spirit is a unique experience – there are repeated fillings and ongoing, present, immediate operations of God’s Spirit that we must expect and anticipate.  Let us do so.

Hear Dr Lloyd-Jones:

Possibly one of the most devastating things that can happen to us as Christians is that we cease to expect anything to happen. I am not sure but that this is not one of our greatest troubles today. We come to our services and they are orderly, they are nice ‒ we come, we go ‒ and sometimes they are timed almost to the minute, and there it is. But that is not Christianity, my friend. Where is the Lord of glory? Where is the one sitting by the well? Are we expecting him? Do we anticipate this? Are we open to it? Are we aware that we are ever facing this glorious possibility of having the greatest surprise of our life?

Or let me put it like this. You may feel and say ‒ as many do ‒ ‘I was converted and became a Christian. I’ve grown ‒ yes, I’ve grown in knowledge, I’ve been reading books, I’ve been listening to sermons, but I’ve arrived now at a sort of peak and all I do is maintain that. For the rest of my life I will just go on like this.’

Now, my friend, you must get rid of that attitude; you must get rid of it once and for ever. That is ‘religion’, it is not Christianity. This is Christianity: the Lord appears! Suddenly, in the midst of the drudgery and the routine and the sameness and the dullness and the drabness, unexpectedly, surprisingly, he meets with you and he says something to you that changes the whole of your life and your outlook and lifts you to a level that you had never conceived could be possible for you. Oh, if we get nothing else from this story, I hope we will get this. Do not let the devil persuade you that you have got all you are going to get, still less that you received all you were ever going to receive when you were converted. That has been a popular teaching, even among evangelicals. You get everything at your conversion, it is said, including baptism with the Spirit, and nothing further, ever. Oh, do not believe it; it is not true. It is not true to the teaching of the Scriptures, it is not true in the experience of the saints running down the centuries. There is always this glorious possibility of meeting with him in a new and a dynamic way.

Dear fellow-pilgrims: may you have a blessed Lord’s day tomorrow – may our Lord appear!

In two posts, linked in theme but not by design, Jeff Smith and Michael Haykin both engage with issues of Baptistic attitudes to church polity, purity, and the progress of the gospel, taking in issues of tradition and catholicity.

Jeff Smith, continuing his series of lessons from 18th century Particular Baptist history, points to Baptist negativity toward the 18th century revival because of their suspicions about those at its forefront: Whitefield and the Wesleys, and the Calvinistic Methodists, for example.  Many of those concerns had to do with church polity:

They had a hard time accepting that anything good could come out of a denomination they refused to consider as a true church. This was partly related to what was a commendable and faithful commitment of the Baptists to the importance of biblical church order. In some instances, however, this commitment went wrong by swinging over to the extreme of failing to have a proper spirit of catholicity toward all true Christians.

He draws out some important and challenging questions:

What is the lesson for us as Reformed Baptists as we enter into the 21st century? Well here we are reminded of how important it is to have a catholic spirit toward all true Christians, though they may not be part of our circle of churches. Though some may have difficulty accepting this, God in his sovereignty sometimes greatly blesses and uses men who are not Reformed Baptists; men who don’t have everything right in their ecclesiology, or even men who are wrong in other areas of their theology. They have the gospel and they preach the gospel, but they are lacking in some areas. May I dare to say it, they may even be confused Arminians. Yet God uses them, and He may even use them in ways He’s not using any of us. We need to be able to rejoice in that. We need to ask ourselves, if God raised up some men in our day full of the Holy Spirit; men who are preaching the gospel and whose preaching God is mightily blessing with every biblical evidence of true conversions (not merely decisions, but real conversions), and those men are Methodists or Episcopalians, or Assembly of God or some other denomination, or some other kind of Baptist, other than Reformed Baptist, could we rejoice in that and be thankful for it? Could we even consider those men as our friends and brothers and even work together with them insofar far as we can? Or is our almost immediate knee jerk reaction to be critical and to pick at any and every fault we can find to try to discredit any one God is using who is not one of us?

And again:

Related to this, there’s a common mistake we need to be aware of. It’s the error of thinking that there can be no revival without thorough reformation first. It’s true that reformation sometimes precedes revival. Likewise it’s true that we must always be pursuing more and more thorough reformation. If we are not seeking to reform our lives and our churches by the scriptures, it is presumption to expect revival. But in God’s sovereignty it is simply a fact of history that sometimes revival precedes reformation. Some of the Particular Baptists thought there could be no church renewal if there was a neglect of believer’s baptism and the principles of Baptist church government. They were wrong, and because they felt that way, they renounced the revival when it came.

Michael Haykin has been making some similar points:

Take the revival among English and Welsh Calvinistic Baptists at the close of the “long” eighteenth century. In the wake of this dramatic renewal came a fresh evaluation of what constituted the parameters of the Calvinistic Baptist community. During the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries these parameters had been oriented around the concept of the church as a congregation of baptized believers and any missional component largely lost. Revival came to be linked to Baptist polity. This focus among Calvinistic Baptists on ecclesiological issues and their linking of spiritual vitality to church order, however, received a direct challenge from the Evangelical Revival. The participants of this revival, who knew themselves to be part of a genuine movement of the Spirit of God, were mainly interested in issues relating to salvation. Ecclesial matters often engendered unnecessary strife and, in the eyes of key individuals like George Whitefield, robbed those who disputed about them of God’s blessing.

By the end of the century many Calvinistic Baptists agreed. While they were not at all prepared to deny their commitment to Baptist polity, they were not willing to remain fettered by traditional patterns of Baptist thought about their identity. Retaining the basic structure of Baptist thinking about the church they added one critical ingredient drawn from the experience of the Evangelical Revival: the vital need for local Baptist churches to be centres of vigorous evangelism. There is no doubt that this amounted to a re-thinking of Baptist identity. From the perspective of these Baptists, Baptist congregations and their pastors were first of all Christians who needed to be concerned about the spread of the Gospel at home and abroad.

Haykin also draws some positive and challenging conclusions:

May we, the spiritual descendants of those brethren-oh what a joy to have men and women like Andrew Fuller and John Sutcliff, Samuel Pearce and Anne Steele, Benjamin Beddome and Benjamin Francis as our forebears!-not fail to learn the lessons they learned so well!

Oh to treasure the traditions these brothers and sisters have handed on to us, but a pox on traditionalism! This is not a contradiction: to love our traditions, but to want nothing to do with traditionalism. The latter loves the past because it is simply the past and thinks that things were always done better then. The former loves the traditions of the past for they are bearers of truth and we dare not lose that treasure.

Oh to be found faithful to the end of our days to the faith once for all delivered to the saints and which these brethren have handed on to us. But oh to avoid like the plague the aridity of traditionalism in second- and third-order theological truth, not daring to think new thoughts in these areas. Fuller and his friends were not so fearful.

These are important points, and need to be borne in mind.  But let us also look forward a little distance from the time my brothers are writing about.

In 1813 the Baptist Union was established, on the back of such endeavours as the Baptist Missionary Society.  At the time, it was a distinctively Calvinistic body.  It was then restructured in the early 1830s to include General Baptists.  That re-establishment was on the broad and undefined basis of “the sentiments generally denominated evangelical.”[1] Those involved seemed to think that they knew what those sentiments were, and they were substantially convinced that such a foundation was sufficient to bear the weight of what would be built upon it.

Fast forward just a few years, and into the heritage of truth that the Particular Baptists of the 18th century passed down steps C. H. Spurgeon (1834-1892).  He – if you study his life and read his writings carefully – was as much a reformer as he was anything else.  God used him mightily in the middle of the 19th century to bring the gospel to countless thousands and to establish a multitude of churches.  True catholicity reigned in Spurgeon’s heart alongside a blood-earnest attachment to Jesus and the truth as it is in him.  There was no contradiction.

Toward the end of his life, Spurgeon knew that he had expended his energies in the cause of Christ.  In March 1891, a preacher from the College called E. H. Ellis left for Australia.  Spurgeon bade him farewell: “Good bye, Ellis; you will never see me again, this fight is killing me.”[2]

What was the fight?  It was that which church history calls the Downgrade Controversy.  Those sentiments usually denominated evangelical – being largely assumed and undefined – had not held back the tide of error sweeping in “the New Theology.”  Spurgeon averred that the Baptist Union as he knew it had been founded “without form and void” and remained so.

I am not drawing direct parallels between the Higher Criticism against which Spurgeon contended and some of the men implicitly referenced in the work of Jeff Smith and Michael Haykin, but I do think that the period after the 18th century provides us with salutary warnings and necessary exhortations.

The best men are always genuinely catholic in spirit.  They love all those who love Jesus in truth, even when they disagree with them over matters that they mutually confess to be of genuine and significant importance (e.g. church polity).  Men like John Owen, Jeremiah Burroughs, George Whitefield, and Charles Spurgeon were able to see across and attempt to reach across certain divides.  It does us well to cultivate the same spiritual wisdom.

However, in so doing, let us not lose sight of gospel distinctives (even more than ecclesiological ones, though not ignoring that the former feeds and defines the latter).  The truth is too high a price to pay for peace and unity (even in the short term).  We must not breed a suspicious and judgemental spirit, but we must maintain a discerning and distinguishing one.  We would be fools if we allowed catholicity of spirit to blind us to issues of truth and error.  I accuse neither of the men referenced of this, but I know that wise men make judicious and righteous statements, and the foolish apply them in muddle-headed and dangerous ways, and that there are more of the latter men than there are of the former, with obvious consequences.

What a tragedy it would be if, on the one hand, we failed to recognise a genuine work of the Spirit of God, even if “God in his sovereignty sometimes greatly blesses and uses men who are not Reformed Baptists.”  We should rejoice wherever Christ’s kingdom advances, and yearn to be useful and fruitful in that work, alongside all who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity.  But, on the other hand, what a tragedy it would be if the inheritance we bequeathed to a generation to come was one of theological fuzziness, of pie-eyed and ungrounded optimism and well-meaning indistinctness that sold them into decades of unanchored drifting or bloody contention for the truth, or both.  In this regard, we have to say that – in surveying the broad theological landscape, not least among the “young, restless and reformed” and those to whom they look up – there are issues of which we must be aware, matters of pith and moment that are all too easily dismissed or overlooked.  Too little catholicity, and we may miss the boat.  Too much, and we sink it for future generations.

Some truth matters more, some truth matters less, but all truth matters.  We need wisdom to judge where the lines are drawn, and to recognise where they exist, even while we accept that some are scored more deeply than others.  Some are barely visible to the naked eye, although they exist and are worth knowing and appreciating.  Some we can reach across at certain times and in certain places even while we will never erase them.  Some we must maintain, even with sorrow.  Some are inviolable boundaries: our only efforts in those regards are to defend them with all we have and are, reaching out only to pull people across them from error and danger into truth and safety.

Let us be content, then, to be thought broad or narrow (as the spirit of the age dictates and the tenor of our own time and place in it require), so long as we are walking closely with Jesus, in spirit and in truth.  Conflict is miserable, and we must not allow times of conflict to determine all our conduct in times of peace.  At the same time, let us remember that our conduct in peace will determine our conduct in war.  The crisis will not form our character, it will only reveal it.  Taking this into account, consider that Spurgeon was fighting because he would not see Christ dishonoured, and that became a fight to the death.  In the midst of the battle, speaking to College students on the preacher’s power, he remarked

trimming [the gospel] now, and debasing doctrine now, will affect children yet unborn, generation after generation.  Posterity must be considered.  I do not look so much at what is to happen to-day, for these things relate to eternity.  For my part, I am quite willing to be eaten by dogs for the next fifty years; but the more distant future shall vindicate me.  I have dealt honestly before the living God.  My brother, do the same.[3]

There are lots of dogs, and they will eat us: let the dogs of liberalism eat us for our convictions, and the dogs of the blinkered hyper-orthodox for our catholicity, and the dogs of broad evangelicalism for our narrowness, and the dogs of the world for our exclusivity.  There are lots of dogs.  But let us content to be sheep of Christ’s flock, in company with other true sheep.  Let us pray for and pursue both revival and reformation, personally and corporately: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties; and see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

If I may be permitted to reach across, while holding firm (the point will be clear if you look up the original!), let me end with a hymn from Charles Wesley:

A charge to keep I have,
A God to glorify,
A never-dying soul to save,
And fit it for the sky.

To serve the present age,
My calling to fulfill:
O may it all my powers engage
To do my Master’s will!

Arm me with jealous care,
As in Thy sight to live;
And O Thy servant, Lord, prepare
A strict account to give!

Help me to watch and pray,
And on Thyself rely,
And let me ne’er my trust betray,
But press to realms on high.

[2] Autobiography, 3:152.

[3] C. H. Spurgeon, “The Preacher’s Power, and the Conditions of Obtaining it,” in An All-round Ministry, pp.361-2.

Matt points us to several marks of a cohesive team:

• Are meetings compelling? Are the important issues being discussed? Lack of interest in meetings is a good indicator the team may be avoiding issues because they are uncomfortable with one another. “There is no excuse for having continually boring meetings”.
• Do team members engage in unguarded debate? Do they honestly confront one another? Even teams that get along well should be experiencing regular conflict and intense debate during these meetings.
• Do team members apologize if they get out of line? Do they ever get out of line?
• Do team members understand one another? “Members of cohesive teams know one another’s strengths and weaknesses and don’t hesitate to point them out”.
• Do team members avoid gossiping about one another?

While these are not explicitly Biblical categories, there are some solid Biblical principles lying implicitly behind them.  Is the church to which you belong, to which I belong, a cohesive unit?  Are the marks of true and transparent togetherness present among the elders and the deacons (separately and together), as well as among the membership as a whole?

The JollyBlogger records a good quote from Lloyd-Jones’ book Spiritual Depression on talking back to yourself.  Much unhappiness is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself – talking truth to yourself?  Take those thoughts that come to you the moment you wake up in the morning. You have not originated them, but they start talking to you, they bring back the problems of yesterday, etc.

Somebody is talking. Who is talking? Your self is talking to you. Now this man’s treatment was this; instead of allowing this self to talk to him, he starts talking to himself. “Why art thou cast down, O my soul?” he asks. His soul had been depressing him, crushing him. So he stands up and says: “Self, listen for a moment, I will speak to you . . .”

The main art in the matter of spiritual living is to know how to handle yourself. You have to take yourself in hand, you have to address yourself, preach to yourself, question yourself. You must say to your soul: “Why art thou cast down” — what business have you to be disquieted?

You must turn on yourself, upbraid yourself, condemn yourself, exhort yourself, and say to yourself: “Hope thou in God” — instead of muttering in this depressed, unhappy way. And then you must go on to remind yourself of God, who God is, and what God is and what God has done, and what God has pledged Himself to do.

Then having done that, end on this great note: defy yourself, and defy other people, and defy the devil and the whole world, and say with this man: “I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance, who is also the health of my countenance and my God.”

We must get into the habit of preaching truth to ourselves.

Fearless Pilgrim: The Life and Times of John Bunyan by Faith Cook

Evangelical Press, 2008 (528pp, hbk)

John Bunyan has had a good number of biographers, but Faith Cook’s new work sits in a niche of its own.  It is at once carefully-researched and popular; it considers the man himself yet puts him in his historical, social, political and cultural context; it recognises his literary brilliance yet sees him primarily as a man of God; it appreciates his own mental and emotional constitution but also takes account of spiritual realities.

In structure, the book essentially traces the turbulent life of John Bunyan through the turbulent times in which he lived.  But there is more to it than that.  Mrs Cook carefully situates her man in his times, showing evidence of careful research and thought.  This journey is illuminated by judicious quotes from Bunyan’s writings.  Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners obviously has a prominent place, especially in the earlier years of Bunyan’s spiritual journey, but various other works come to the fore in their turn.  This literary element is particularly enjoyable: we keep track of Bunyan’s work alongside his passing years, and the circumstances out of which his books were written provide insight into his life, and vice versa.  At points along the way there is a little necessary reading into the white spaces of Bunyan’s life.  Mrs Cook usually keeps closer to reasonable surmise than to narrative licence to fill the gaps that exist.

The author is certainly and understandably sympathetic to her subject, but she does not cut him unreasonable slack.  She spells out the trials of his sensitive conscience, but also has wise words of warning with regard to hypersensitivity of conscience.  She recognises his constitutional frailties, but also appreciates his spiritual struggles, interacting with others who have sought to assess (and, in some cases, diagnose) Bunyan’s spiritual and mental condition.  She does not shy away from the conflicts that Bunyan had with those outside the church, nor the debates with those within her arising from his distinctive views (for example, on the relationship between baptism and church membership).  In these matters, however, she is generally careful to report rather than to judge.  These elements, together with consideration of a variety of other issues – often drawing on other movers and shakers from the period (both in the religious and other spheres) – enrich the tapestry of Bunyan’s life.

It will be interesting to see how this volume fares in the academic realm.  It is soundly researched and well-written, and yet the author’s own commitment to the same truths which fired Bunyan’s heart is likely to compromise the worth of the book in the eyes of many specialists in the fields of literature and history.  This would be a great shame.  However, while academia might struggle to understand and acknowledge the heart of Bunyan, Christian scholars will be glad to have a competent, substantial yet sympathetic work to assist in understanding this early Baptist in his context and to validate their approach to him as a Christian man and minister.  Christians outside of this context should be able simply to enjoy this well-paced and insightful treatment.

The book is also well-illustrated with various prints, photographs and sketches.  However, a proliferation of fonts does not necessarily improve the reading experience.  With regard to substance, this deserves to be a standard work among Christians interested properly to grasp the life, work and times of this eminent servant of God.  It is heartily recommended.

From John Piper:

On January 12, 2009 Samantha Heiges, age 23, was sentenced to 25 years in prison for drowning her newborn in Burnsville, Minnesota. If she had arranged for a doctor to kill the child a few weeks earlier she would be a free woman.

What are the differences between this child before and after birth that would justify it’s protection just after birth but not just before? There are none. This is why Abraham Lincoln’s reasoning about slavery is relevant in ways he could not foresee. He wrote:

You say A. is white, and B. is black. It is color, then; the lighter, having the right to enslave the darker? Take care. By this rule, you are to be slave to the first man you meet, with a fairer skin than your own.

You do not mean color exactly? You mean the whites are intellectually the superiors of the blacks, and, therefore have the right to enslave them? Take care again. By this rule, you are to be slave to the first man you meet, with an intellect superior to your own.

But, say you, it is a question of interest; and, if you can make it your interest; you have the right to enslave another. Very well. And if he can make it his interest, he has the right to enslave you. (Fragments: On Slavery)

There are no morally relevant differences between white and black or between child-in-the-womb and child-outside-the-womb that would give a right to either to enslave or kill the other.

I think that William Wilberforce and others would have seen the logic of this.  Such principles put this in a powerful context: