The Wanderer

John Calvin: Pilgrim and Pastor by W. Robert Godfrey

Crossway, 2009 (208pp, pbk)

John Calvin: A Pilgrim’s Life by Herman Selderhuis

InterVarsity Press, 2009 (287pp, pbk)

One cannot help but feel a little sorry for the genuine Calvin scholar as one reviews the glut of Calviniana being ushered in by the quincentenary.  The most assiduous reader would – however much he felt obliged to do so – struggle to wade through seemingly endless biographies, topical studies, translations of original material, re-issues of older works, and so on.

For those not so thoroughly enmeshed in academia, yet seeking insightful treatments of the life of Calvin, there is still a sometimes bewildering range of options.  Herman Selderhuis (PL) and Robert Godfrey (PP) provide two of them.

The books share certain similarities, and not just in the title. The particular strength of both is reliance on primary sources.  Both authors, rather than relying on scholarly surmise or the opinion of others, lean heavily on Calvin’s own words (in Selderhuis’ instance, particularly his correspondence) to press out insights into Calvin’s mind and heart.  This gives both volumes a welcome liveliness and freshness.

Another similarity lies in the fact that both books attempt to be both biographical and topical, albeit by different routes.  In the Godfrey volume, this takes the form of a two-fold division: Calvin as pilgrim (here a more thoroughly biographical section, plunging into the Strasbourg sojourn before skimming through his early life and student days and his first Genevan period) and Calvin as pastor (the second Genevan period, where Calvin’s convictions concerning various issues, and the practical outworking of those issues in Geneva, are addressed more topically).  Selderhuis takes a different approach: ten chapters are chronologically arranged, each with a pithy title, such as ‘Orphan’ for 1509-1533, ‘Victim’ for 1546-1549, ‘Sailor’ for 1555-1559, and ‘Soldier’ for 1559-1564. These slightly enigmatic headings are further subdivided in the chapters themselves, with sections of one-half page to two pages under their own very brief (usually one word) caption.  The combined effect is of being carried forward by pigeon steps – progress of a slightly fragmented kind.

A further shared quality is the readability of the volumes.  Godfrey has a relaxed and accessible style, almost disappointing in its unobtrusiveness, but pleasantly simple and straightforward.  Selderhuis must thank his translator for doing an excellent job in producing a terse, compact, lively English idiom: it is a pleasure to read.  Neither book is excessively scholarly in style: perhaps the reputation of both men as scholars has rid them of any felt need to impress with their erudition.  The weight of learning lies behind the text, evidently present without being paraded on the surface.  Godfrey opts for very brief footnotes, quotes themselves often being linguistically updated.  Selderhuis has a more novel approach: page after unfootnoted page, all awash with apparently unproven assertions.  Turn to the back of the book, however, and you will find twenty sides of page-referenced notes, sometimes with snippets of text or brief pointers, all sending the reader back to the original sources.  Depending on one’s intention in reading, this is either wonderfully refreshing or painfully frustrating (especially if one does not have ready access, physically or linguistically, to the two main editions of the Calvini Opera, the Supplementa Calviniana, and the correspondence of the Reformers).  Selderhuis includes an index of names, while Godfrey supplies a broader general index.

Furthermore, neither author seeks to define Calvin in terms of any particular event: both are interested in the broad sweep and tenor of his life.  There is a subtle resistance in both cases to highlighting or dramatizing specific episodes or crises.  There are narrative peaks and troughs to be sure – the confrontation by Farel; exile from Geneva; the death of Idelette; the trial of Servetus – but both Godfrey and Selderhuis are too wise to make any one episode defining (except insofar as, for example, Calvin’s conversion set the course for his life).  They are more interested in character demonstrated across the contours of this pilgrim life.  Nevertheless, certain themes do develop, especially in Selderhuis: Calvin’s attitude to authority (especially paternal authority, whether human or divine), and his linked disposition toward God’s providential government of all things; the twin motifs of abyss and labyrinth that impact the pilgrim’s progress.  In Godfrey, it is perhaps more classic Calvin emphases – submission to God’s word, reverence for God manifest in worship, awareness of God’s utter sovereignty.

Perhaps the key difference lies in the approach of the two men to their subject.  Hints of this become readily apparent in the respective introductions.  For Godfrey,

Some have loved [Calvin], and some have hated him.  All would agree that he was a man with a brilliant mind and a powerful will who had a profound impact on the development of western civilization.  But was that impact positive or negative? (PP, 7).

So far, so relatively neutral.  A slightly clearer hint at the tone of the volume comes in the language of Calvin’s inspirational example to thousands of pastors, theologians, and biblical scholars; the language becomes increasingly warm, building to the assertion that

This book . . . aims at communicating Calvin’s passion and faith through extensive quotations from his works so that something of the force and eloquence of his language can be experienced by the reader.  He moved millions not through the power of his personality but through the power of his biblical ideas and words.  This book focuses on the essential Calvin, a man who lived out his Christian faith as a pilgrim and a pastor (PP, 9).

It would be wrong to conclude that what follows is mere hagiography.  At the same time, Godfrey appears as a fair-minded and insightful appreciator and defender of Calvin, standing in the same tradition and – without merely applauding him at every turn – clearly sympathetic to him as a man and as a Christian, while aware of his frailty and shortcomings.  When considering Calvin as pastor, he penetrates and summarizes Calvin’s thought, and then transcends it in ways that almost become preaching.  For example:

For Calvin, worship was not a means to an end.  Worship was not a means to evangelize or entertain or even educate.  Worship was an end in itself.  Worship was not to be arranged by pragmatic considerations but was rather to be determined by theological principles derived from the Scriptures.  The most basic realities of the Christian life were involved.  In worship, God meets with his people to bless (PP, 80).

This is the language of conviction and comradeship.

Selderhuis, by contrast, tells us that

In this book, Calvin is approached as neither friend nor enemy; I just do not categorize him in that sense.  I feel nothing for Calvin either way, but I am fascinated by him as a person.  Without intending to, he created a world-wide community of believers, arousing as much scorn as admiration and accomplishing so much in spite of his many limitations.  I have tried to tell the story of his life to discover what he was like as a person. . . . It is well worth trying to get under his skin, and – if you get that far – I will let you out again at the end, I promise (PL, 8).

This authorial stance, so bluntly introduced, leads to a curious and sometimes uncomfortable tone at points in the book.  Perhaps the terseness and wit of the prose, so commendable at points, contributes to this sense.  Selderhuis claims a lack of bias, rather a fascination: however, this doubtless well-intended distancing of himself from his subject can occasionally come across as a little glib, even snide, occasionally bordering on the callous.  So, for example, on courtship, we are informed that “The background of his prohibitions against [sexual] intercourse for those who were courting or engaged was Calvin’s view of all sexual activity outside marriage as adultery.  In short, there was little for couples to do except read the Institutes together” (PL, 181).  So far, so potentially tongue-in-cheek.  But when we are reading of the death of his wife, for example, Selderhuis displays a kind of empirical empathy without demonstrating much human sympathy:

Calvin claimed that he had lost his best friend, adding that she had been extremely faithful in helping him in his ministry.  These are nice testimonies, but Calvin felt the need to add also that she never hindered him in his work.  For one as truly afraid as Calvin was of the possibility that marriage could do this, this is, of course, a positive observation.  Still, although it is to be hoped that everyone might claim his or her partner was no hindrance, we might also wish that Calvin had simply dropped this remark.  Here, however, he was as open as he was everywhere else, as is also true of his remark that he tried to deal with his grief in such a way “that I continue my ministry without a break.”  His work had been given him before the woman, and his work also continued without her, and working hard did indeed help him overcome his grief (PL, 171-172).

The portrait that comes to the fore is of a workaholic (another theme of Selderhuis’) simply getting on with the job, and less a deeply sensitive man burying his grief in the only way he knew.  Admittedly, Godfrey focuses more on Calvin’s public than his private life.  At the same time, Selderhuis demonstrates a more ready humanity in his style, but less in his substance.  This strange ambivalence toward both Calvin and Calvinists (the author’s tone constantly suggests that he is distancing himself from such a designation) – not so much a balance between regarding as friend or enemy, as a seeming readiness to snipe when the mood takes him – continues all the way through to the abrupt and curious ending:

In contrast to many later Calvinists, at any rate, Calvin himself had no doubt as to whether or not we would recognize one another in heaven.  This would indeed be nice.  If I am to end up there myself, there are some things that I would really like to talk to him about (PL, 259).

One cannot help but wonder what he wants to say, and in what tone!

So, what is the prospective reader of a Calvin biography to do?  Which way should he turn?  It is fascinating that Calvin, to some extent, seems to defeat the biographer: trying to let the light glimmer fairly off his multi-faceted life and ministry leads to so many varied approaches and perspectives.  Selderhuis offers greater insight into Calvin the person, but Godfrey is more successful in highlighting the governing principles of the man in his public role.  Selderhuis gives us a more rounded character portrait, a “warts and all” depiction; Godfrey gives us rich insight into his abiding concerns and theological convictions.  Selderhuis provides an honest depiction, Godfrey an honest appreciation.  Selderhuis does not shy away from the flaws of the pilgrim, while Godfrey is more interested in his progress.  Selderhuis is profoundly aware of Calvin’s God; Godfrey seems often on the verge of preaching him.  Selderhuis leaves you saying, “What a man! – but a man nonetheless”; Godfrey leaves you saying, “Only a man, but – under God – what a man!”  Selderhuis evidently knows Calvin’s heartbeat intimately, and strikes out all its rhythms on the page; one feels that Godfrey’s heart is often beating in time with his subject’s.

One could argue that it is a matter of emphasis and intent.  In that respect, I would be loath to recommend one or the other, as different readers with different desires or expectations will doubtless prefer one to the other.  I am glad to have read them both.  Selderhuis keeps us from veneration while still communicating the great gifts that God gave to the man; Godfrey directs us in appreciation, revealing the underpinning convictions of Calvin so as to instruct, challenge, rebuke and encourage.  The pastor-theologian in me would recommend Godfrey, while enjoying Selderhuis; the pastor-historian would tend toward Selderhuis, but be very unwilling to relinquish Godfrey.  Those whose affection for Calvin is already secure might be well-served by reading Selderhuis in addition to Godfrey; those who know little about Calvin should head for Godfrey first, as I am not persuaded that they will know what to make of Selderhuis’ Calvin if he is their first exposure.

In many ways, then, read either.  By all means, read both.  Probably read Godfrey before Selderhuis.  But, certainly, read more.  I think both Godfrey and Selderhuis would concur here: read Calvin himself.  The present publishing glut is making Calvin the preacher more accessible in modern English, and it is here you will find Calvin’s heartbeat for yourself.  In addition, Calvin the man can be better understood, Calvin the polemicist heeded, Calvin the correspondent read, Calvin the pastor appreciated, Calvin the theologian entertained, Calvin the friend enjoyed, and Calvin the Reformer heard.  Both of these studies, to varying degrees and with different emphases, show us a man who lived before God.  Both should send us back with renewed appetite to read Calvin in his own words.  There we will find that profound God-awareness, that unshakeable reverence, that determined obedience, that makes Calvin worthy of the attention of both these authors, and which shines out in both their books.

• Westminster Bookstore: Godfrey / Selderhuis
• Monergism Books: Godfrey / Selderhuis (not available)
• Amazon.co.uk: Godfrey / Selderhuis

Risking the Truth: Handling Error in the Church by Martin Downes

Christian Focus, 2009 (247pp, pbk)

As a reasonably dedicated follower of Ferguson, the misguided counsel given by the normally erudite Scot in the foreword to this volume left me profoundly uncomfortable:

So, put some logs, or coal, or peat, on the fire; make (or fix) yourself a pot of tea or coffee; settle back into your favorite chair – and spend an evening or a rainy afternoon in the company of Martin Downes (11-12).

All well and good, Sinclair, but I read this book during the warmest day of the year in the UK so far.  Whatever one thinks about the British weather (which Prof. Ferguson knows well), I can give assurance that roaring fires and warm drinks are far from what is required under such circumstances, and you can wait a good four or five days for a rainy afternoon during some of our summers.

Most of the other advice in this book you can safely take.

My only minor gripes are a number of editing glitches, and the fact that almost all the quotes in the book come without references, which can be frustrating if you wish to read more, or put the words in context.  Neither is there an index.

Those slight grievances aside, this is an outstanding book, characterised by clear thinking and straight talking.  Its basic premise is simple: the compiler, Martin Downes, conducted a series of interviews with some well-known senior statesmen of Christ’s church, most of whom are serving God in the UK or the US, with the exception of Conrad Mbewe (Zambia) – his environment reminds the reader that different situations involve different challenges, and we should beware an oversimplification of ‘the issues facing us today.’  Each contributor was asked questions concerning false teaching and flawed living with a view to instructing today’s church about prevalent errors and heresies.  The conversations focus on appropriate ways of handling and responding to these poisons.  Downes sets the scene in his introduction, explaining the apostolic concern that false teaching and false teachers be identified and addressed, lest damage be done to the body of Jesus Christ.  There follows a brief overview of the nature, origin, attraction, effects and persistence of heresy, setting us up for the interviews themselves.

As one reads through these dialogues, a number of distinctions become apparent.  Some of these are reflective of the character of the contributor.  Although there is often a pleasantly chatty, even casual tone to all the conversations, some interviews have longer, more developed answers and others quite terse responses.  In only a few of the conversations is there much technical language, but in general the language is clear and popular.

Other differences have to do with the nature of the interview.  In some, various specialists are quizzed on particular topics: Ligon Duncan deals almost exclusively with the New Perspective; Kim Riddlebarger addresses eschatology; Gary Johnson is quizzed about Norman Shepherd’s initial exposure and subsequent effect; Robert Peterson discusses the doctrine of hell; and, Greg Beale answers questions on inerrancy.

Other interviews are more general, and often have the same basic framework (and even identical questions).  Sometimes, the interviewee’s individual concerns provide shifts of focus; on other occasions, perceptive questions highlight a particular area of expertise.  In these more wide-ranging discussions it is the varied emphasis and nuance of answer that interests: there are few outright contradictions of other contributors, but a variety of perspective that is illuminating.

In reading, one senses care, insight and structure in the questions – whether they are more generic or directed at specific issues – with a view to drawing out relevant and helpful answers.  The reader is reminded that wise men can differ.  For example, some advocate that the pastor take pains to keep abreast of theological developments and deviations, others dismiss making too much of such a practice.  Sometimes shared principle gives rise to subtly-differentiated practice, demonstrating legitimate variety as to how one goes about the business of feeding the sheep while driving off the wolves.

However, there are also clear patterns in the book.  Along the way there are some brilliant gems to be collected, pithy nuggets of truth dropped almost casually into the individual conversation, including a good number of practical, pastoral counsels to be gleaned.  While these random jewels are worth collecting, it is the developing seams of emphasis that are more worth tracing.  Several notes are sounded repeatedly: the importance of firmly grasping the cardinal doctrines of Christian orthodoxy; the value of the historic confessions of faith that have served past generations so well as frameworks of truth; the need of clear conviction regarding the Scriptures as the very word of the living God; the helpfulness of a genuine historical awareness and insight – a clear and sound sense of where the church has come from and what she has already encountered along the way; the significance of the local church, and the part that membership of a healthy local congregation plays in preserving truth, and preserving from error; the value of clear, systematic, expository ministry.  That these notes chime so often, in different language, in different contexts, from different men, in response to different questions, suggests the weight that ought to be attached to these issues.

With regard to error itself, there are also valuable patterns to observe.  It is interesting that only Conrad Mbewe (with R. Scott Clark receiving an honourable mention) highlights the issue of charismatic teaching: is this an indication of a change of stance or emphasis further west?  Has the prominence of ‘Reformed Charismatics’ in the resurgence of ‘the New Calvinism’ had an effect?  For most of these men, the New Perspective on Paul and the Federal Vision are at the forefront of the issues that need to be confronted in the church today (including on the ground in the life of local churches).  These issues, and the related web of errors that sit within and alongside them, crop up repeatedly.  What distresses without particularly surprising is how many of the cardinal doctrines of historic Reformed Christianity are once more considered up for grabs.  These are not new battles, though, and much is to be learned from those who have gone before.

Another thread concerns the shortness of the distance from orthodoxy to heterodoxy: no chasm this, but rather a hair’s breadth.  Falsehood is most effective when it is perverted or exaggerated truth.  The ease with which it is possible to slip into error is a constant warning, and the necessity of sometimes fine and accurate distinctions is always before us.

One helpful emphasis concerns the purpose of confronting error: it is not point-scoring, nor scalp-hunting.  Rather, we are to seek, in love, to win back the wanderers.  While we find a fundamental hope that all can be recovered, there is a note of practical pessimism as several experienced men lament how few individuals and institutions, once they have left the old paths, have been recovered to them.  Alongside of this is another warning note: the dangers of pride on account of an orthodox reputation, and therefore the need to walk closely with God if we are not to slip into error or heresy ourselves, or to become calloused and crass, making ourselves more an aggressive watchdog than a righteous watchman, notching our belts over how many errorists we blew out of the water with our last sermonic broadside.

That brings us to the final chapters, in which Martin Downes returns to warn against making the hunt for heresy the defining feature of any ministry.  This is developed in a brief treatment of 1 Timothy, reflecting on dealing with false teachers and teaching.  In the face of errors connected with revelation and interpretation, Downes marshals the apostolic evidence for making our ministries substantively positive.  Singular truth, identified and displayed in all its beauty, by its very nature exposes and condemns multiform and manifold error.  Here, the identification and exposure of error becomes almost incidental, natural, appropriate, and balanced.  Constant controversy is a bad school for character development: far better to bring the truth always to light, and let that light fall as required into the dark places.  John Owen concludes with typically wise and weighty counsel: it is one thing to be against heresies, but it is essential that we be for truth, not in a merely intellectual sense, but with a true apprehension of that truth in our minds and hearts:

Let us, then, not think that we are any thing the better for our conviction of the truths of the great doctrines of the gospel, for which we contend with these men, unless we find the power of the truths abiding in out [sic] own hearts, and have a continual experience of their necessity and excellency in our standing before God and our communion with Him (247).

There are few volumes around that have this book’s distinctive character and purpose.  An impressive variety of men of God bend their collective minds to a single concern of broad relevance and great importance, and – prompted by some careful probing – give us the concentrated fruit of their thinking in clear and robust terms.  It is a repository of much wisdom, but of a certain kind.  You will not find here a catalogue of errors and heresies with cross-referenced responses.  Neither will you find all-out attacks on particular issues in the church.  What you will find is counsel as much on the method and manner of holding to truth and assaulting falsehood as the matter of truth itself.  You will not agree with all the details, but you will find a swathe of common opinion that is vigorously orthodox.  You will be stimulated, pointed in the right direction, made aware of issues and helped in where to start with and how to handle those issues.  Above and behind all, there lies a clear desire for the glory of God and the good of the church, a love for the truth and a concern for the lost and confused, and a clear-sighted awareness of what is at stake with a calm determination to hold the line and help others to do the same.  Whether already engaged in fighting a particular battle, or simply seeking to keep honed the edge of your Jerusalem blade, here you will find a good whetstone.

• Westminster Bookstore
• Monergism Books – not yet available
• Amazon: Risking the Truth

Irish  C.M.

Great God, our eyes are slow to see
The truth your Word contains,
And you alone have power to break
Our understanding’s chains.

Our ears are stopped, our minds are weak,
Our hearts are dull and cold.
How can this be when in your Word
The truth is clear and bold?

So slow our feet to walk your paths;
So slow our hands to learn;
So slow our minds to grasp the truth;
So slow our hearts to burn.

We search the Scriptures and we catch
A fleeting glimpse of Christ.
Remove the scales, arrest our minds,
And grant increasing light.

Have pity, Lord, and help our cause:
How much we long to be
Men of the Word, whose great delight
Is more of Christ to see!

©JRW

See all hymns and psalms.

A friend forwarded me a link to this post by Chris Anderson, giving some insightful and balanced thoughts on the Driscoll phenomenon.  If you have wrestled with any of the issues associated with Mark as man and minister, and found yourself having a “On the one hand . . . on the other hand . . .” conversation with yourself or others, this might help you see through some of the fog.

For more hopefully not-entirely-foggy thoughts on Mark Driscoll, see here.

The Life of Rowland Hill: ‘The second Whitefield’ by Tim Shenton

Evangelical Press, 2008 (702pp, hbk)

There are some men worthy of remembrance who, for whatever reason, fall into the gaps between the lives of other such men.  Rowland Hill may fall into that category, tending to stand in the shadow of George Whitefield.

Shenton’s very full account of Hill’s life redresses the balance.  Hill’s profoundly independent turn of mind provides scope for depicting both the great strengths and the sometimes painful weaknesses of his life and ministry.  He was a much-beloved, powerful and effective preacher, a man of generous heart and often penetrating insight.  Idiosyncratic to an extreme, given to the employment of humour, fierce in opposing error, quick to make friends and tenacious in battling enemies (some of whom he did not need to make), brilliant in many respects and bizarre in others, there is a weight of material and a wealth of detail here to satisfy anyone looking for information.  This comprehensiveness keeps the author from hagiography: Hill’s excellences get a full airing, but Shenton is not afraid to highlight more disappointing aspects and episodes.

Hill’s preaching was marked by a freedom that could become disjointedness.  This randomness seems to have characterised the man.  Reading the biography, Hill’s spirit sometimes seems present: perhaps the flood of detail about such a life contributes to this.  Shenton reserves most analysis for the closing chapters of the book.  For the great bulk of this bulky book, therefore, we are trawling through information without many character flags to guide us.  Strings of anecdotes, each fascinating in themselves, leave the reader looking for the thread that ties them together.  I was often left awash in the man’s doing, grasping after more of his being.

Some might put this volume down feeling that they know a great deal about Rowland Hill, but not so sure how well they know him.  That does not keep this from being a valuable book and an impressive work of research.  This careful and balanced study of a distinctive life teaches us much worthy of emulation, and some worthy of avoidance.  Here, Hill steps out of the shadow of others and is accurately portrayed in his own right.

• Westminster Bookstore – not available.
• Monergism Books – not available.
• Amazon.co.uk (fascinatingly, you can already get secondhand copies for over £100)

Why Johnny Can’t Preach: The Media Have Shaped the Messengers by T. David Gordon

Presbyterian & Reformed, 2009 (112pp, pbk)

If there is even the merest hint of a righteous old curmudgeon (if that is not a contradiction in terms) lurking within you, this is the book to bring it out.  I found myself making comically old-fashioned noises of profound agreement (I believe that I may actually have uttered an “Harrumph!” at one stage) at many points in reading it.  It was written in 2004, when its author (a professor of religion and Greek, and teacher in humanities and media ecology) believed that his life might be about to end on account of cancer.  That accounts for the point and fervour with which it is written.

I recall being shown an essay during my undergraduate years, an essay being held up as an example of academic virtue.  It ticked a bundle of academic boxes, and its breadth of reference was indeed admirable, and its content undoubtedly passable, albeit only passable.  My grievance, urged passionately upon the tutor extolling its virtues, was that it was bad.  It was badly spelt, badly written, fairly poorly constructed across the board and awfully constructed in terms of individual sentences and paragraphs.  It was a rotten read.  “How,” I marvelled with a mixture of grief and outrage, “can that tripe be worthy of a first-class mark?  It is bad writing.”  I restrainedly raged against the strangled style and crippled communication.  I felt some justification in this, given that it was an English Language and Literature degree: surely to gain a reasonable mark you should be able to pick up a pen?  A similar sense of aggrieved outrage rises when I read of students pursuing higher degrees needing to be coached in the fundamentals of clear written communication, as well as when I perceive the ongoing dumbing-down of education generally, and theological education no less.  I feel it when I see an online syllabus for post-graduate seminary degrees that require an alleged doctoral level of competence and then proceed to give in baby language step-by-step guidance for writing critical reviews and papers.  I feel it when I sit down before a piece of published writing that is simply incoherent and inconsistent (to be honest, I get a stirring of it when I read a blog post littered with spelling errors and characterised by confusion – and I write that conscious of the fact that I am now bound to spell several wrods rong and perhaps write a sentence or two that tails off into nothingness without).  I feel it when I see a statement followed by a string of quotes, obviously supplied out of the conviction that this counts as persuasive argumentation.  I feel it when I turn to a study guide and find that the first question is of the type, “Briefly outline the first three paragraphs of this chapter.”  That barely counts as comprehension; it is more akin to simple regurgitation, and that of a bulimic nature, in which there is no intention to digest before bringing it all back up.  If you can simply harvest data, you are good to go.  There is no pursuit of genuine comprehension and apprehension, no meditative analysis, and no rigorous engagement with the material.

All that to say that it is balm to my soul when, at one point, a footnote in Why Johnny Can’t Preach lets out a strangled howl of outrage over students who not only do not care about accurate forms of spelling or grammar, but do not even have the decency to be consistently wrong through the course of an essay!

Such ranting aside, this book is concerned with something far deeper: the fact that much preaching in evangelical and Reformed circles is characterised by the same incoherence and inconsistency.  In writing this, I do not do so as one who would necessarily get the thumbs-up from Dr Gordon, and I would not want to give the impression that I imagine I would.  Nevertheless, I recongise that what proceeds from the mouth of the preacher is of infinitely greater significance that what proceeds from the pen of a poncy undergraduate, and all preachers would do well to contemplate what they read here.

The book is written from the perspective of a disgruntled and competent hearer.  The lament goes up that most pastors cannot preach even a mediocre sermon.  The symptoms of the disease are set forth, employing the cardinal requisites of a healthy sermon derived from R. L. Dabney’s Evangelical Eloquence together with a variety of admittedly ‘non-scientific’ testimonies.  There is some discussion of the cause and circumstances of the malady.  While the author does not wholly exempt seminaries from blame, he is quick to point out that the greater problem is the condition of the typical student on his arrival at seminary.  Drawing on the discipline of media ecology, Gordon suggests that a culture dominated by language has become a culture dominated by (moving) images, and hence increasingly aliterate as well as illiterate.

We then move on to diagnosis: the reason why our generic Johnny cannot preach is that he cannot read or write i.e. he has little or no sensibility for the close reading of texts, for composed communication, or for the genuinely significant.  The claim is that the dominant cultural media, and the associated training of the mind, militate against such vital skills.  Johnny has been taught to read for information or content, not for sense and pleasure.  He has never been taught to give attention to something.  What attention he has is fleeting, because he lives in a world in which the superficial and trivial is flying past and into him at astounding speeds, and he cannot distinguish what is significant and give it the time it deserves.  As one who struggles with the multiplied distractions of the interweb age, I can only underline the difficulty in attaining to a period of undistracted concentration, and training oneself to the same end.

In addition, texts, emails, and even telephone conversations, for all their advantages, mean that Johnny never needs to dwell upon composition, and rarely if ever concerns himself with structure, with the development of an argument and the building of rhetorical force.  There is no unity, order, and movement in his regular communication, and it is therefore substantially lacking from his pulpit addresses.

There follows a brief description of flaws of content.  The author rightly extols the virtue of the Christ-centred sermon (Clowney and Chappell are his stated models at this point, though Calvin peeks in at one point), and is careful to explain that by this he means thoroughly evangelical sermons that embrace the whole of Christian understanding and experience.  He compares such sermons with moralistic sermons, calling us to “be good and do good” and perhaps with a verbal nod to Christ at the end, as the one without whom we cannot accomplish these things; with “how to” sermons, reducing religion to mere technique; with introspection, seemingly designed to undermine, often by means of a scolding disposition, the assurance of the truest saints; and, with social gospel/culture war sermons, in which the impression is given that coerced external righteousness in a Christian or Christianised society is a worthy goal, apart from the regeneration of individual sinners.  He does nuance some of these charges, and the need for moral instruction and self-examination are, perhaps, more credible than he gives them credit for.  Nevertheless, the nature of a brief polemic perhaps explains the black-and-white character of this little book at this point.

Finally, there is a prescription in four parts.  Firstly, he suggests giving the preacher an annual review.  Here, I baulk a little at his likening the pastor to other professionals who also get an annual review.  However, I appreciate the point.  There is a place for regular review of one’s public (and even private) ministerial labours, but there needs to be an appropriate, qualified, wise and competent forum in which that review should take place.  The problem with simply submitting oneself to the whole congregation for assessment may not always be a fear of honest answers, but the health and capacity of those from whom answers are expected.  There are several other legitimate ways in which an earnest learner can obtain a considered and honest assessment of his gifts, and areas for improvement.

To develop the sensibility of reading texts closely, Gordon suggests, in essence, reading good poetry; to learn composed communication, he recommends the discipline of pursuing handwritten communication where possible (whether letter, journal, or some other form).  He also encourages the preacher to cultivate pre-homiletic sensibilities, as part of which he pleads with congregations to give their ministers time to develop the faculties they need to be more competent preachers.

There are certainly points at which the reader might wish to nuance certain elements of this process, or even recast them.  Nevertheless, the symptoms are hard to deny and the diagnosis rings profoundly true, even if the prescription does not command entirely the same level of agreement.

Two other qualifications should be made. Firstly, it is worth bearing in mind – and this is not addressed – that most congregations now have the same kind of cultural conditioning as woeful preachers.  This will affect their hearing.  I say this not as a shoulder-sloping exercise that allows the incompetent preacher to blame a congregation for their inability to receive his quite wonderfully clear and insightful sermons, but rather to highlight the fact that there is a lost skill of intelligent listening that ought to complement the skill of competent oral delivery.  Secondly, and again without wishing to undermine the thrust of the book, there is a danger of focusing on an eloquence that is merely academically sound.  Gordon is not pleading for classical rhetoric as such (at least, I do not believe so), but there is a higher and sometimes purer eloquence than that of the schools, an earthy directness and vigorous clarity that does not rest on academic excellence, though it usually exists in the genuinely intelligent.  Furthermore, the role of the Spirit in equipping and enabling a man, setting his rhetoric on fire, must not be overlooked.

Would-be preachers, preachers, and teachers of preachers would all profit from this book.  Educators also would do well to ponder some of these things.  There may be some necessary fine-tuning that individual readers will want to apply.  However, the book should be read for what it is: a brief, impassioned polemical piece desiring pointedly to identify a problem and address it.  The whole is fundamentally sound, and the end suitably achieved.  It is worthy of being received as such, engaged with, and humbly addressed in a preacher’s preparation and delivery.

• Westminster Bookstore
• Monergism Books
• Amazon.co.uk

Consider carefully the following evidence that the redemption accomplished through Christ’s resurrection determined the day for Christian worship:

1. Jesus Christ arose on the first day of the week (Matt. 28:1). He entered into his rest from labor, not on Saturday (the seventh day), but on Sunday (the first day of the week). As Jesus entered into his rest on the first day, so he encourages us to begin the week by resting in the confidence that He will provide for all our needs for seven days with only six days of labor.
2. Jesus Christ appeared to His assembled disciples on the first day of the week, as well as to Mary and to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus (John 20:10; Luke 24:13). By these appearances on the first day of the week, the resurrected Lord set a pattern for meeting with His disciples. They began expecting to meet with Him on the day of his resurrection, which is the first day of the week.
3. Jesus appeared to the assembled disciples one week later on the first day of the week, with doubting Thomas present this time (John 20:26). Already a new pattern of assembly for worship was emerging. God’s new covenant people were making it a habit to assemble together on the first day of the week, the day of Christ’s resurrection. Jesus honored these assemblies by appearing to the disciples at this time, and encouraged their faith in Him as the resurrected Lord.
4. The resurrected Christ poured out his Spirit on the assembled disciples exactly fifty days after the Sabbath of the Jewish Passover, which was the first day of the week (Acts 2:1; cf. Lev. 23:15–16). The word Pentecost means “fifty,” referring to the fifty days after the Sabbath of the Passover. Forty-nine days would span seven Jewish Sabbaths or Saturdays, and the fiftieth day would then fall on a Sunday, the first day of the week. So it would appear that the outpouring of the Holy Spirit came on the first day of the week, when God’s new covenant people were assembled for worship. So the pattern would be established more firmly. Both the resurrection of Christ and the outpouring of the Spirit occurred on the first day of the week.
5. As Paul spread the gospel of Christ among Jews and Gentiles throughout the world, the first day of the week was used as the time for Christians to assemble for worship. In Greece, Paul and Luke assembled with the people of God to break bread and to hear the preaching of God’s word on the first day of the week (Acts 20:7). This was the day that the people of the new covenant assembled to hear God’s word.
6. Paul wrote to the Christians in Corinth to establish the pattern for their presenting of offerings for the service of the Lord. He ordered the Christians in Corinth to follow the pattern that had already been set with the churches in Galatia (1 Cor. 16:1). On the first day of every week they were to consecrate their offerings to the Lord (1 Cor. 16:2). This schedule for honoring the Lord had become the pattern for God’s people throughout the churches. The churches were not to present their offerings any time they wished. Rather, on the first day of each week, all the Corinthian Christians were to follow the pattern that had already been set among the Galatian churches. The first day of the week was the designated time for the presentation of offerings to the Lord.

O. Palmer Robertson

Why on Sunday? New Horizons, March 2003.

HT: RBF.

I just watched an interview with Rolf Harris (if you don’t know who Rolf Harris is, shame on you) in which he was asked what one piece of advice he would give to someone who wanted to excel in communication (which Rolf thought was his greatest strength).  He harked back to the counsel given by an outstanding cabaret artist called Hermione Gingold (spelling?) who watched his first ever show.  She gently rebuked him for not looking at her.  The young Rolf was somewhat bemused: “I didn’t know you; we hadn’t been introduced . . .”  She corrected his mistake: “No, you never looked at anybody.  You were looking at a point on the wall above their heads.  What you’re doing is you’re giving them all permission to pay no attention to you at all, because they know you’re not talking to them.  Unless you have the courage to meet people’s eyes, you will never achieve your potential.”

The preacher’s field is not entertainment, but it is communication.  I have seen too many preachers with their eyes glued to their notes, or determined to bore a hole in the back wall, watching an imaginary kite some distance away in the sky, or casting their intense gaze just over the head of the person furthest back in the congregation.  Often there is a combination of the above: notes . . . walls . . . sky . . . notes.  Anything but meet the eyes of the men and women, boys and girls, who are sitting in front of them.

The same thing applies: if you are talking over, round, or past a congregation, “you are giving them all permission to pay no attention to you at all, because they know you are not talking to them.”  It is polite, but it is also vital.

Failure to look people in the eye may be cultural conditioning, or a constitutional disinclination.  Let us develop habits of delivery that enable us to look at those to whom we preach, and let us have the courage to meet people’s eyes when we are speaking to them about life and death, heaven and hell, Christ and salvation.  Then they will know that we are talking to them.

In connection with another project, I came across two of the hymns appointed for the Dedication Service when Spurgeon’s Tabernacle was opened as a meeting place for the preaching of the truth as it is in Jesus.  All of the hymns were published in a little booklet, but two of them were printed in the Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit recording the first sermon.  Both subsequently appeared in slightly edited form in Our Own Hymn-Book (the eventual hymnbook of the church which met in the Tabernacle).

The first of them was a new composition by Joseph Tritton, written for the occasion.  The other was an older hymn by the robustly Calvinistic John Kent, described as “a specimen of that joyous gospel which we trust will long be proclaimed within our hallowed walls.”  Both have some quaint phrasing, but both are clear and ring true in their substance.

Separately and together, they form appropriate pleas not just for the opening of new buildings, but for any of God’s saints as they meet with the aim of seeing Christ glorified in the salvation of souls and the building up of his church.

-1-

Spirit of glory and of grace,
Thy favour we entreat;
Thou true Shekinah of the place,
Where true disciples meet.

Oh! let the labour of our hands
Be precious in thy sight;
And long as this our temple stands,
Your presence be its light.

Here float the gospel’s banner wide
Oe’r faithful hearts and brave;
And here, O Jesus crucified,
Come forth in power to save!

Make bare thine arm, thou King of saints,
To bring dead souls to life;
And when thy children’s courage faints,
Renew them for the strife.

No Bochim this – a place of woe –
But Pisgah’s holy steep;
Where dying ones their heaven shall know
Before they fall asleep.

While we who live shall urge the race,
If Jesus be but here;
Spirit of glory and of grace,
Revealing Christ, appear!

- 2 -

Saved from the damning power of sin,
The law’s tremendous curse,
We’ll now the sacred song begin
Where God began with us.

We’ll sing the vast unmeasured grace
Which, from the days of old,
Did all the chosen sons embrace,
As sheep within the fold.

The basis of eternal love
Shall mercy’s frame sustain;
Earth, hell, or sin, the same to move,
Shall all conspire in vain.

Sing, O ye sinners bought with blood,
Hail the great Three in One;
Tell how secure the cov’nant stood
Ere time its race begun.

Ne’er had ye felt the guilt of sin,
Nor sweets of pard’ning love,
Unless your worthless names had been
Enrol’ed to life above.

Oh, what a sweet exalted song
Shall rend the vaulted skies,
Then, shouting grace, the blood-wash’d throng,
Shall see the Top Stone rise.

Dan Brown has “written” (is that too generous?) several novels.  We were last obsessing over The Da Vinci Code, and we are now being faced with Angels & Demons, the profile of which will once more be raised by another film featuring many of the same motifs (kinder than ‘worn clichés’, don’t you think?).

You may not care.  You may not ever wish to care.  On the other hand, you may be forced to care or need to care, especially if this does make for a gospel opening.  Should you, therefore, care or come to the point at which you need to find out more, then Westminster Seminary has set up an engaging-looking site intending to give you The Truth About Angels & Demons.  Enjoy.

HT: JT.

Gossip is one of the most pernicious sins of the tongue, as anyone ever exposed to it will know.

Ray Ortlund addresses it clearly:

What is gossip? It is not necessarily false information. Slander is false. Gossip might include true information, and maybe that’s why gossip doesn’t always feel sinful. What makes it sin is, first and foremost, that God says it’s sin. But gossip spreads what can include accurate information to diminish another person. That is not how people behave when they are living in the power of the grace of God.

Gossip is our dark moral fervor eagerly seeking gratification. Gossip makes us feel important and needed as we declare our judgments. It makes us feel included to know the inside scoop. It makes us feel powerful to cut someone else down to size, especially someone we are jealous of. It makes us feel righteous, even responsible, to pronounce someone else guilty. Gossip can feel good in multiple ways. But it is of the flesh, not of the Spirit.

Adultery too is a serious sin, and one likely to be disciplined in a church. But I have never seen a church split over the sin of adultery. Gossip is a sin rarely disciplined but often more socially destructive than the sensational sins.

Gossip leaves a wide trail of devastation wherever and however it goes – word of mouth, email, blogging, YouTube. It erodes trust and destroys morale. It creates a social environment of suspicion where everyone must wonder what is being said behind their backs and whether appearances of friendship are sincere. It ruins hard-won reputations with cowardly but effective weapons of misrepresentation. It manipulates people into taking sides when no such action is necessary or beneficial. It unleashes the dark powers of psychological transference, doing violence to the gossiper, to the one receiving the gossip and to the person being spoken against. It makes the Body of Christ look like the Body of Antichrist – destroyers rather than healers. It exhausts the energies we would otherwise devote to positive witness. It robs our Lord of the Church he deserves. It exposes the hostility in our hearts and discredits the gospel in the eyes of the world. Then we wonder why we don’t see more conversions, why “the ground is so hard.”

You should read the remedy, too.

My friend James Williamson, currently one of the pastors at the Reformed Baptist Church of Louisville, Kentucky, hopes to relocate to Zambia to contribute to the work of the gospel under a variety of faithful men.  The LION of Zambia website gives more information.  The following videos provide a colourful overview of some of the work.

For a voice from within, you can follow Conrad Mbewe’s blog.

Z points us to one of those provocative religion vs. the gospel type-posts.  These are the sort that, read once,  strike you as being wonderfully simple.  The third or fourth time through they seem a touch simplistic.  I am not saying that there is no truth in these contrasts from Tim Keller, for I think there are many points at which he is hitting home.  I simply warn against reading these as the whole story (I am not suggesting that Mr Keller thinks they are either, and I don’t know the context in which these were first presented . . . I am just saying).

RELIGION: I obey-therefore I’m accepted.

THE GOSPEL: I’m accepted-therefore I obey.

RELIGION: Motivation is based on fear and insecurity.

THE GOSPEL: Motivation is based on grateful joy.

RELIGION: I obey God in order to get things from God.

THE GOSPEL: I obey God to get to God-to delight and resemble Him.

RELIGION: When circumstances in my life go wrong, I am angry at God or my self, since I believe, like Job’s friends, that anyone who is good deserves a comfortable life.

THE GOSPEL: When circumstances in my life go wrong, I struggle but I know all my punishment fell on Jesus and that while he may allow this for my training, he will exercise his Fatherly love within my trial.

RELIGION: When I am criticized I am furious or devastated because it is critical that I think of myself as a ‘good person’. Threats to that self-image must be destroyed at all costs.

THE GOSPEL: When I am criticized I struggle, but it is not critical for me to think of myself as a ‘good person.’ My identity is not built on my record or my performance but on God’s love for me in Christ. I can take criticism.

RELIGION: My prayer life consists largely of petition and it only heats up when I am in a time of need. My main purpose in prayer is control of the environment.

THE GOSPEL: My prayer life consists of generous stretches of praise and adoration. My main purpose is fellowship with Him.

RELIGION: My self-view swings between two poles. If and when I am living up to my standards, I feel confident, but then I am prone to be proud and unsympathetic to failing people. If and when I am not living up to standards, I feel insecure and inadequate. I’m not confident. I feel like a failure.

THE GOSPEL: My self-view is not based on a view of my self as a moral achiever. In Christ I am “simul iustus et peccator”—simultaneously sinful and yet accepted in Christ. I am so bad he had to die for me and I am so loved he was glad to die for me. This leads me to deeper and deeper humility and confidence at the same time. Neither swaggering nor sniveling.

RELIGION: My identity and self-worth are based mainly on how hard I work. Or how moral I am, and so I must look down on those I perceive as lazy or immoral. I disdain and feel superior to ‘the other.’

THE GOSPEL: My identity and self-worth are centered on the one who died for His enemies, who was excluded from the city for me. I am saved by sheer grace. So I can’t look down on those who believe or practice something different from me. Only by grace I am what I am. I’ve no inner need to win arguments.

RELIGION: Since I look to my own pedigree or performance for my spiritual acceptability, my heart manufactures idols. It may be my talents, my moral record, my personal discipline, my social status, etc. I absolutely have to have them so they serve as my main hope, meaning, happiness, security, and significance, whatever I may say I believe about God.

THE GOSPEL: I have many good things in my life—family, work, spiritual disciplines, etc. But none of these good things are ultimate things to me. None of them are things I absolutely have to have, so there is a limit to how much anxiety, bitterness, and despondency they can inflict on me when they are threatened and lost.

I had a full day yesterday, and discovered myself a little under the weather in the course of it.  A dull brain that refused to accept the notion that I had made any preparation, a weary and slightly fevered body, and one or two other niggles made for a long day (and that’s just how I felt it to be).

We began with Sunday School, continuing our look at the roots of godly discipline of our children by putting the nature of liberty alongside the nature of a child.  Reasonably straightforward stuff, you might have thought.

The morning service kicked off badly when I discovered that my watch had finally packed up.  I discovered this when I realised that the minute hand was not moving, and that I was a couple of minutes late in starting.

These, I think, are the days when we are reminded of our own dispensability, and rejoice that the kingdom is not in our hands.  It never does depend on us, but how often those days come along when we are forcibly reminded of what a blessing that is.

I preached in the morning – with a fair lack of fluency – on Biblical manhood and womanhood, concentrating now on distinctive identity.  I reminded the congregation of the foundation of essential equality: created dignity, native depravity, and redemptive reality.  Upon this foundation we must understand that the man and women – created in God’s image – were nevertheless created male and female, with definite, defined and distinctive roles.  This identity is fundamental; our relationships are determinative; our behaviour flows appropriately from our distinctive identity in terms of a given relationship (e.g. family, church, society).  I highlighted some principles for men and women, deliberately giving the men the hardest time as those who are to be courageous leaders rather than irresponsible victims.  I confess that the absence of manly vigour among many Christian men and churches cuts me deep.  I had to set out these things more broadly than deeply, but sought also to root the recovery of our masculinity and femininity in the grace of Christ.  Only at the cross are those distinctive identities restored, for while sin dehumanises, grace rehumanises.

In the evening, I preached from Hebrews 13.5 on God himself our present help.  We began with the context of the promise, looking both at what lies on and beneath the surface of the exhortation to avoid covetousness and be content.  The assurance of the promise lies in the fact that God himself – the faithful, merciful, powerful, insightful, eternal God – speaks with all the reliability of divinity and the force of five negatives.  The history of the promise – the times and places in which God spoke these words before – reveals a fine pedigree, broad scope, and long proving of God’s faithfulness.  The substance of the promise is simply God’s presence and assistance: it is a covenant affirmation that we will ever be with us to help us.  The sweetness and sufficiency of the promise lie in its being anchored at the cross and meeting every possible circumstance that any child of God individually or all the people of God together might ever meet.  God has it covered!  Finally, there are the effects of the promise: faith, contentment, confidence, courage, and cheerfulness.

This morning I had some errands to run, and was running them at a speed commensurate with my still slightly-ropey condition: I needed replacement tyres (semi-slicks rather than off-road monsters) on my bike, and discovered simultaneously that my brakes had been set up badly, which explained something of my laborious efforts since I bought the thing!  I had been blaming the tyres and the baby-seat (or, more specifically, the growing child in it).  I also discovered that my watch is probably beyond repair, picked up a book from the Post Office that for some reason could not be delivered, and came home to a monster boxful of review copies that I need to start ploughing through.  Where do the days go?

Ah, well.  Onward and upward . . .

The Exiled Preacher interviews Professor Stuart Burgess about the interrelation between his Christianity and his scientific career.

Robert Godfrey has written a new study of the life and thought of John Calvin, entitled John Calvin: Pilgrim and Pastor.  I am reading and enjoying it a present.

Mike Dewalt has interviewed Dr Godfrey about the book here.  Collin Hansen interviews him here.

What do some of the masters say?

Charles Spurgeon:

A young man had been preaching in the presence of a venerable divine, and after he had done he went to the old minister, and said, “What do you think of my sermon?”  “A very poor sermon indeed,” said he.  “A poor sermon?” said the young man, “it took me a long time to study it.”  “Ay, no doubt of it.”  “Why, did you not think my explanation of the text a very good one?”  “Oh, yes,” said the old preacher, “very good indeed.”  “Well, then, why do you say it is a poor sermon?  Didn’t you think the metaphors were appropriate and the arguments conclusive?”  “Yes, they were very good as far as that goes, but still it was a very poor sermon.”  “Will you tell me why you think it a poor sermon?”  “Because,” said he, “there was no Christ in it.”  “Well,” said the young man, “Christ was not in the text; we are not to be preaching Christ always, we must preach what is in the text.”  So the old man said, “Don’t you know young man that from every town, and every village, and every little hamlet in England, wherever it may be, there is a road to London?”  “Yes,” said the young man.  “Ah!” said the old divine “and so from every text in Scripture, there is a road to the metropolis of the Scriptures, that is Christ.  And my dear brother, your business in when you get to a text, to say, ‘Now what is the road to Christ?’ and then preach a sermon, running along the road towards the great metropolis – Christ.  And,” said he, “I have never yet found a text that had not got a road to Christ in it, and if I ever do find one that has not a road to Christ in it, I will make one; I will go over hedge and ditch but I would get at my Master, for the sermon cannot do any good unless there is a savour of Christ in it.”[1]

Bishop J. C. Ryle:

Let it be a settled principle in our minds, in reading the Bible, that Christ is the central sun of the whole book.  So long as we keep Him in view, we shall never greatly err in our search for spiritual knowledge.  Once losing sight of Christ, we shall find the whole Bible dark and full of difficulty.  The key of Bible knowledge is Jesus Christ.[2]

Alexander MacLaren:

A ministry of which the Christ who lived and died for us is manifestly the centre to which all converges and from which all is viewed, may sweep a wide circumference, and include many themes.  The requirement bars out no province of thought or experience, nor does it condemn the preacher to a parrot-like repetition of elementary truths, or a narrow round of commonplace.  It does demand that all themes shall lead up to Christ, and all teaching point to Him . . . . Preaching Christ does not exclude any theme, but prescribes the bearing and purpose of all; and the widest compass and richest variety are not only possible, but obligatory for him who would in any worthy sense take this for the motto of his ministry, “I determine not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ and Him crucified.”[3]

The Puritans, as reviewed by Joel Beeke:

The experimental preaching of the Reformers and Puritans focused on preaching Christ.  As Scripture clearly shows, evangelism must bear witness to the record God has given of his only begotten Son (Acts 2:3; 5:42; 8:35; Romans 16:25; 1 Corinthians 2:2; Galatians 3:1).  The Puritans thus taught that any preaching in which Christ does not have the pre-eminence is not valid experiential preaching.  William Perkins said that the heart of all preaching was to ‘preach [only] one Christ by Christ to the praise of Christ’.  According to Thomas Adams, ‘Christ is the sum of the whole Bible, prophesied, typified, prefigured, exhibited, demonstrated, to be found in every leaf, almost in every line, the Scriptures being but as it were the swaddling bands of the child Jesus’.  ‘Think of Christ as the very substance, marrow, soul, and scope of the whole Scriptures’, advised Isaac Ambrose.  In this Christ-centred context, Reformed and Puritan evangelism was marked by a discriminating application of truth to experience.[4]

William M. Taylor:

The Gospel, as Paul preached it, was far-reaching enough in its application to touch at every point the conduct and experiences of men.  The Cross, as he used it, was an instrument of the widest range and of the greatest power.  When, therefore, I insist that you like him should “preach Jesus Christ and Him crucified,” I do not mean to make the pulpit for you a battery, of such a nature that the guns upon it can strike only such vessels as happen to pass immediately in front of its embrasures.[5] On the contrary, I turn it for you into a tower, whereon is mounted a swivel-cannon, which can sweep the whole horizon of human life, and strike down all immorality, and ungodliness, and selfishness, and sin. . . . I do not mean that you should keep continually repeating the words of “the faithful saying” like a parrot-cry, until every particle of meaning has dropped out of them; but rather, that you should make application of the great principles that lie beneath the Cross, to the ever-varying circumstances and occurrences of life, and that in such a way as at once to succor the Christian and arrest and convert the sinner.[6]

Andrew Fuller:

If you preach Christ, you need not fear for want of matter.  His person and work are rich in fulness.  Every Divine attribute is seen in him.  All the types prefigure him.  The prophecies point to him.  Every truth bears relation to him.  The law itself must be so explained and enforced as to lead to him. . . . The preaching of Christ will answer every end of preaching.  This is the doctrine which God owns to conversion, to the leading of awakened sinners to peace, and to the comfort of true Christians.  If the doctrine of the cross be no comfort to us, it is a sign we have no right to comfort.  This doctrine is calculated to quicken the indolent, to draw forth every Christian grace, and to recover the backslider.  This is the universal remedy for all the moral diseases of all mankind.[7]

Thomas Foxcroft:

Ministers then must study to feed their flocks with a continual feast on the glorious fullness there is in Christ; they must gather fruits from the branch of righteousness, from the tree of life for those who hunger, not feeding them with the meat which perishes, but with that which endures to everlasting life.  They must open this fountain of living waters, the great mystery of godliness, into which all the doctrines of the gospel that are branched forth into so great a variety do, as so many rivulets or streams making glad the city of God, flow and concenter.

They must endeavor to set forth Christ in the dignity of His Person, as the brightness of His Father’s glory, God manifest in the flesh; in the reality, necessity, nature, and exercise of His threefold office of Prophet, Priest, and King, in both His state of humiliation and exaltation; in the glorious benefits of His redemption, the justification of them who believe, the adoption of sons, sanctification, and an inheritance that does not fade away, reserved in heaven for the saints; in the wonderful methods and means in and by which we are called into the fellowship of the Son our Lord, and made partakers of the redemption by Christ; in the nature, and significance, the excellency and worth, of all the ordinances and institutions of Christ, with the obligations on all to attend upon them.

Whatever subject ministers are upon, it must somehow point to Christ.  All sin must be witnessed against and preached down as opposed to the holy nature, the wise and gracious designs, and the just government of Christ.  So all duty must be persuaded to and preached up with due regard unto Christ; to His authority commanding and to His Spirit of grace assisting, as well as to the merit of His blood commending – and this to dash the vain presumption that decoys so many into ruin, who will securely hang the weight of their hopes upon the horns of the altar without paying expected homage to the scepter of Christ.  All the arrows of sharp rebuke are to be steeped in the blood of Christ; and this to prevent those desponding fears and frights of guilt which sometimes awfully work to a fatal issue.  Dark and ignorant sinners are to be directed to Christ as the Sun of righteousness; convinced sinners are to be led to Christ as the Great Atonement and the only City of Refuge.  Christ is to be lifted up on high for the wounded in spirit to look to, as the bitten Israelites looked to the brazen serpent of old.  The sick, the lame, and the diseased are to be carried to Christ as the great Physician, the Lord our Healer; the disconsolate and timorous are to be guided to Christ as the Consolation of Israel, and in us the hope of glory.  Every comfort administered is to be sweetened with pure water from this Well of salvation, which only can quench the fiery darts of the evil one.  The promises of the gospel are to be applied as being in Christ “yea, and in Him Amen, unto the glory of God by us” (2 Cor. 1:20).  So the threatenings of the law are to light and flash in the eyes of sinners as the terrors of the Lord and sparks of the holy resentment of an incensed Savior, which hover now over the children of disobedience and will one day unite and fall heavy upon them.  The love of Christ for us is to be held forth as the great constraining motive to religion, and the life of Christ as the bright, engaging pattern of it.  Progress and increase in holiness are to be represented under the notion of abiding in Christ and growing up into Him who is the Head, even Christ.  Perfection in grace is the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, and eternal life is a being forever with the Lord where He is, beholding His glory and dwelling in our Master’s joy.

Thus, in imitation of the apostolic way of preaching, there must be a beautiful texture of references to Christ, a golden thread twisted into every discourse to leaven and perfume it so as to make it express a savor of the knowledge of Christ.  Thus every mite cast into the treasure of the temple must bear this inscription upon it which was once the humble language of a pious martyr in the flames, “None but Christ, none but Christ,” so that everyone, beholding in the Word preached as in a glass the glory of the Lord, may be changed into the same image, from glory to glory.[8]

 

---

[1] Charles H. Spurgeon, “Christ Precious to Believers,” sermon no. 242 in The New Park Street Pulpit (1860; reprint, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1994), 5:140.  Also told, in slightly different form, in The Soul Winner (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1964), 106-107.

 

[2] J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels: Luke 11-24 (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2007), 501.

[3] Alexander MacLaren, Old Expositor’s Bible Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, date not known) 204.

[4] Joel Beeke, What is Reformed Experimental Preaching? (Grace Online Library), http://www.graceonlinelibrary.org/articles/full.asp?id=42|42|394 accessed 14 May 09.

[5] Embrasures are the openings in battlements.

[6] William M Taylor, The Ministry of the Word (Harrisonburg, VA: Sprinkle Publications, 2003), 102-03.  This whole chapter on “The Theme and Range of the Pulpit” would bear close reading in this regard.

[7] Andrew Fuller, “Preaching Christ” in Complete Works (Harrisonburg, VA: Sprinkle Publications, 1988), 1:503-504.

[8] Thomas Foxcroft, The Gospel Ministry (Grand Rapids, MI: Soli Deo Gloria, 2008), 8-11.

Lloyd-Jones: Messenger of Grace by Iain H. Murray

Banner of Truth, 2008 (274pp, hbk)

Iain Murray is too careful an historian to indulge in hagiography, so how does he approach the topic of the legacy of Martyn Lloyd-Jones (often ‘ML-J’ to Murray, which I shall sometimes adopt for the sake of brevity rather than familiarity), whom he knew so well and esteemed so highly?  We find swift relief in Murray’s gentle assertion that “some have spoken inadvisably of Dr Lloyd-Jones as though he was an all-sufficient model for others to follow” (xi).  Throughout the book it becomes apparent both that ML-J recognised particular shortcomings in his character and that Murray is not afraid graciously to disagree with his subject and to identify those shortcomings, as well as simply recognising that ‘the Doctor’ was an individual who is not to be aped, and could not be if one tried.

The author takes a topical approach, and the volume is divided into two.  The second part consists of a collection of titbits: a letter (with some notes) from Lloyd-Jones to Jim Packer regarding the end of the Puritan Conference; a catalogue of pithy quotations; an inventory of ML-J’s sermons; an analysis of the sermons on Ephesians; and, a deservedly unsympathetic review of Noll and Nystrom’s Is the Reformation Over? Included in this hardback edition is a CD of Lloyd-Jones preaching on John 8.21-24: here the interested reader/listener will find an example of that swelling tide of gospel rhetoric that seems to have characterised the preaching of the man, and will sense at least something of the power of his public ministry.

It is, nevertheless, the first part that will attract most interest.  This is an eclectic collection of more substantive essays treating issues held together by the character at the centre.  Chapter 1 is a fascinating survey of six legacies which ML-J left behind him, most of which are related to the church’s declaration of the abiding truth of the gospel.  Chapter 2 concerns “Preaching and the Holy Spirit” practically and theoretically, drawing from ML-J’s convictions and declarations and pointing to his example and demonstration.  It is a clear treatment of the matter, well-organised and warm.  Murray helpfully addresses the matter of unction as it relates both to the pulpit and the pew.

The third chapter takes up the evangelistic use of the Old Testament.  One of the constant correctives in this volume is that ML-J’s public preaching ministry is not reflected in his published works.  He was an evangelist, and his evangelistic preaching was often drawn from the first two-thirds of our Bibles.  ML-J recognised evangelistic preaching as a special category of preaching, and we are given the why and the how of his use of the Old Testament.  Chapter 4 carries us further into the realm of homiletics.  The mischievous title “Skeletons in the Cupboard” will disappoint those with a nose for conflict and scandal: the chapter is about the importance of a clear framework for a sermon, with reasons for that significance and several examples of ML-J’s own efforts.

Chapter 5 consists of notes on a Westminster Fellowship meeting which took place on October 9, 1968.  ML-J had recently returned to public preaching following recovery from a significant illness that led to his retirement from the pastorate at Westminster Chapel.  During the interim, he had unusual opportunity to hear others preaching, and this address was the result.  There is significant substantive commonality with the opening chapter.  ML-J considered what was missing that needs to be present, and what is present that needs to be missing in the preaching that he was hearing.  These observations need to be considered, not least by those who consider themselves as standing in the Lloyd-Jones tradition.

There follows a comparison between Lloyd-Jones and Spurgeon.  The thrust is that these were two unusual individuals with some gifts in common, but essentially different men with different callings at different times and in different circumstances.  It is in these differences – bearing in mind that ML-J began to preach only thirty-five after the death of Spurgeon – that the most fascinating issues come to light.

Chapter 7 addresses Lloyd-Jones’ doctrine of the Holy Spirit in the experience of the Christian, especially as it relates to the matter of assurance.  A few years after his death, sermons dealing with this matter (but preached in the mid-1960s) were published in two books, Joy Unspeakable and Prove All Things.  Taking up the first volume, Murray engages with ML-J’s teaching and followers.  This is one of the more controversial chapters in the book, and the author is likely to be sniped at from several sides.  Murray begins by putting the sermons in the context in which they were preached, specifically identifying that – at that time – there was no “charismatic movement” that existed to which Lloyd-Jones could have been sympathetic (this must be borne in mind by those on both sides of this divide).  In fact, ML-J’s attitude when that movement was coming to prominence was one of distinct concern (133-134).  There follows a review of the Biblical data, a survey of ML-J’s pronouncements on ‘the baptism of the Holy Spirit’ (the definite article is important), and a series of conclusions in which Murray recognises the shortcomings of ML-J’s approach, while appreciating that he was originally drawing attention to a vital topic.  Murray declares that

it was a mistake to make an issue of terminology that cannot be substantiated from Scripture.  A few have heavily criticised ML-J on this account, almost to the point of questioning the value of his work as a whole.  I think that is absurd.  If he went too far in his remedy for what he saw as the main need, the manner in which he drew attention to the need of the Holy Spirit did much good. . . . Many of the works of ML-J – especially those published in his own life time – have joined with those of the tradition to which he belonged as a permanent heritage for the Christian church.  To accept that there was a flaw in his presentation of assurance is not to question that he was drawing needed attention to a vital subject; and if he failed to prevent excess in some quarters, we may believe this episode in history will serve to make others more watchful in the future.  (162-163).

The last chapter asks whether ML-J was ‘the lost leader’ or ‘a prophetic voice’, referring to the most significant controversy that engulfed him during his lifetime: his call to separate from those who were unfaithful to Scripture.  (This topic is addressed at greater length in Murray’s Evangelicalism Divided.)  ML-J was heavily criticised at the time and subsequently, and Murray does not set out simply to exonerate him.  Rather, he puts the issue in its historical context and identifies its core: the nature and basis of Christian unity, on which ML-J differed significantly from other leaders such as John Stott and J. I. Packer (notably, both Anglicans).  In this respect, ML-J’s seminal address of 1966 (and Stott’s immediate rebuttal) was not the cause but the occasion of the division.  Murray sets out to make plain that the issue is bigger than the labels of evangelicalism or even Protestantism: it has to do with the gospel itself.  Related to this was the growing obsession among evangelicals with academic credibility that effectively resulted in a compromise of their principles.  Murray generally does not set out to apportion blame, but sincerely seeks to bring the matter to light.  In this respect, he defends ML-J from false and misinformed accusations while recognising certain shortcomings.  Murray points to what he believes many have missed: that ML-J was governed in this as in all else by “his profound faith in the truth and finality of the word of God” (198), and was concerned only to be faithful to the Saviour.  This was why he acted as he did, and it ought to be acknowledged whether or not one agrees with how he acted.  Indeed, it ought to lead to a more careful consideration of whether or not he was right.

This book might be properly considered a companion volume to Mr Murray’s two-volume biography of Lloyd-Jones.  It does not simply rehash the history, but highlights and assesses a series of important issues.  It ought to be read by all who consider themselves to have inherited anything from the Doctor, especially those who tend to pick and choose.  For those of us who did not know him immediately, and who might have picked up a second-hand opinion (either positively or negatively), it provides an opportunity to start making an independently intelligent assessment.  For those who were closer to the action, it will demand a careful consideration, especially if some have been inclined to react – or, indeed, over-react – to elements of ML-J’s legacy.

It is here that the book will be most useful.  Standing in this period’s slipstream, perhaps three groups can be identified among those with an interest in this man.  There are those who tend to have a slavish attachment to ‘the Doctor’ (which he would clearly have abhorred), and for whom the vital question in any debate remains, “What would the Doctor have said?”  In many respects, they are faithful to the bulk of his legacy, but perhaps struggle to move beyond it.  Then there are those who might consider ML-J not quite Reformed enough, perhaps suspicious of his Methodism and concerned about the excesses to which his doctrine of the Holy Spirit opened a door.  For some of them, everything about the man and his ministry is tainted by this.  Finally, there are those – especially among the so-called “Reformed Charismatics” – who hold him up as a key forerunner of the modern charismatic movement, quoting selectively from his works, or imbibing or promoting an anachronistic interpretation of his teaching on the Spirit.

Messenger of Grace panders to none of these groups, and demands something of each.  The first group must contend with ML-J’s feet of clay, and reckon seriously with the shortcomings of his thinking in significant areas, even while appreciating the wisdom and clarity of his legacy.  The second group must recognise that wisdom and clarity, and appreciate more fully some of the keynotes of his ministry, understanding him in his context and learning to value what he contributed, even while they might feel vindicated with regard to what they would leave behind from his legacies.  The third group need to appreciate that ML-J is not quite the poster-boy for their convictions that they hope him to be, and must consider tendencies to be gung-ho in their historical assessments and selective in their admiration.

Indeed, any who consider themselves heirs of ML-J in any degree need to understand what they are laying claim to, and – perhaps more importantly – what they can legitimately lay claim to.  The instinct to pick and choose to suit our own convictions is soundly rebuked by this book.  Stimulating in the best sense, controversial because of its clarity rather than its spirit, this is an outstanding treatment of its topic.  As personal testimony and historical treatments of the later 20^th century are making clear, Lloyd-Jones is a man who must be reckoned with.  This book, fairly read, will be of great assistance in doing just that.

• Monergism Books
• Westminster Bookstore
• Amazon UK

• Calvinism isn’t dead.  Martin says so.  He has also kicked off an interesting discussion about the identity of the Angel of the Lord.  Furthermore, he offers illumination concerning proof-texting.
• Kevin DeYoung explains why Calvinism – more specifically, the God Calvin worshipped – is so attractive.
• Green Baggins has a helpful post on the relationship of the disciplines of systematic and Biblical theology, and another on the demand for the practical, the relationship between faith and life, doctrine and practice, orthodoxy and orthopraxy.
• Some stimulating thoughts from Don Carson on tithing (HT: Z).  He also gets interviewed about the Gospel Coalition here (HT: JT).
• Iain D. Campbell asks whether or not PowerPoint tempts us, among other things, to turn preaching into presentation.
• Z points us to Shane Hipps suggestion that the internet promotes a permanent puberty of the mind.
• The ‘Art of Manliness’ site offers an interesting secular critique of pornography (note: it is fairly frank at points).  Are Christian responses to pornography distinctively Christian?  They ought to be, for these gentlemen have plenty of good, ordinary reasons for fleeing from filth.
• Rodney Trotter, commenting at Reformation21, stumbles into the multi-campus debate with a note on virtual church.
• On related lines, John MacArthur tells us about the importance of the local church.  Kevin DeYoung also blogs about the definition and function of the church.

Er . . . that’s it for now.

A fairly busy few days.  After plenty going on last week, I flew to Edinburgh first thing Saturday morning, and spent the day at the Scottish Reformed Conference, listening to Sinclair Ferguson and Eric Alexander (sermons here).  Sinclair preached the first and last sessions, sandwiching what was – for me – the outstanding message of the day, Eric Alexander on the glory of Christ.  It is not that Sinclair was bad, it is just that Eric Alexander was – I believe – unusually helped by the Spirit of God.  Maybe it is simply that this was what I needed to hear.

On the Lord’s day I was preaching morning and evening at Penicuik Baptist Church, meeting some old friends and gracious saints (mainly both simultaneously!).  On the Monday I spent a few hours at the Banner of Truth offices in Edinburgh, generally getting in the way and making a distracting nuisance of myself.  I flew home Monday evening, and spent most of the day afterward in a stupour before heading out to Ashford, where I preached at a meeting for the Sovereign Grace Union on the unchanging gospel.  I got home late and slept long.  I think I am catching up.  This weekend I have all three ministries here, and am trying to get my act together with these and many other bits.

Trewen 8 8. 8 8. D

Majestic and merciful God,
My sins mount up into the sky;
Iniquity swells and abounds,
Transgressions and shames multiply.
A wretch and a worm I approach,
My soul and my conscience afire,
Scarce daring to wonder if I’ll
Obtain the one thing I desire.

Almighty and merciful God,
I could not complain if condemned;
My mouth in a moment be stopped,
If goodness divine were now stemmed.
But now, where my sin did abound,
Your grace has abounded much more,
For even as I come in shame,
I find that you loved me before.

My gracious and glorious God,
Your son and your servant I stand,
Amazed by your loving embrace,
Raised by your omnipotent hand.
Brought back by the promise of grace,
And blessed from your heavenly stores,
What I am and have is not mine;
For now, and eternity, yours.

©JRW

See all hymns and psalms.

Over the last couple of days, Michael Haykin has blogged his discovery of a new sermon by Abraham Booth, which may be included in Booth’s works, currently being published.  (Aside: does it render me ineffably weird that discovering a new sermon from someone like Booth sounds like a very exciting thing to do?  I think I know my wife’s answer to that already.)  It was an ordination sermon, and we now have some quotes to give us a flavour:

When I contemplate the Apostle Paul, as the most honoured and useful servant of the Lord Jesus, in spreading the glories of divine grace, I can hardly forbear wishing, like Augustin, to have beheld him in the pulpit; if, thereby, I might form a more correct idea of his doctrine and manner of preaching. Yet such a wish is quite unavailing; and indeed, the gratification of it quite unnecessary. For that incomparable man, in his several epistles, has drawn his own character both as a Christian and as a minister of Christ. In the words of our text, we have the representation of Paul in the pulpit. His grand business is, to manifest the truth.

Take care, that under pretence of being open and explicit, you do not degenerate into dogmatism, or become personal in your, addresses. In the pulpit, you have to do rather with characters than with persons. You are bound, in faithfulness and in duty, to declare, that drunkards, covetous, self-righteous men, shall not inherit the kingdom of God: but you must not single out any particular person before you; for you will then become ungenerous, and the consequences will be injurious.

The more you keep the approbation of conscience, and the favour of God, in your eye, the more careful will you be to study your text and to manifest the truth which it contains; that the understanding and the conscience of your hearers may be duly enlightened, feel its authority, and God himself approve your labours. My brother, you have first of all to do with the understanding of your hearers, and as there is a glorious harmony and influence in divine truth, it must certainly operate on the will.

If you preach the whole counsel of God faithfully, you must expect to be treated by some as an Arminian—if you assert the unchangeableness of salvation for those who, though undeserving, yet believe in Christ, you must expect to be reproached by others as an Antinomian.

Greg Gilbert at 9Marks gives us some cracking excuses to make on behalf of your current guru.

Saturday 20th June will see The Bible & Church day conference taking place in Westminster Chapel, London. The event, sponsored by Tyndale House in Cambridge, is designed “to support and equip Churches with excellence in Biblical scholarship.”

Three sessions for the day as follows:

• Have we got the history right? Dr Peter J. William: A widely held idea is that Christian beliefs arose over a long period of time through a mixture of gullibility and conspiracy. Early Christian records are held to be legend, myth or fabrication.
• Have we got Jesus right? Dr Simon J. Gathercole: Probably the most popular idea in relation to the Bible is that books have been missed out or put in due to political pressure and various media have been full of talk about ‘other gospels’.
• Have we got the text right? Dr Dirk Jongkind: Another popular idea is that the Bible has been corrupted, either by deliberate falsification or simply lost through passage of time. Such ideas are promoted in the British media.

HT: Justin Taylor.

Tim Challies interviews Doug Groothius, working forwards from the latter’s book, The Soul in Cyberspace.