Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? So say the Latins. Shepherds may keep the sheep; but who shall pastorize the shepherds? A question of the weightiest import, both for the flocks and the pastors … Of vital importance is this enquiry religiously. What is to become of any body of Christians whose ministers are not loyal to their Lord and to his gospel? When a church has over it a man of whom it can be justly said that he shows no sign of ever having been converted, what spirituality can be expected to survive? When another preacher has one creed for the pulpit, and another for the private fraternal meeting, how can truth and honesty flourish in the community? When a third changes with the moon, and is not quite sure of anything, how can his hearers be established in the faith? We are not imagining cases; there are too many who answer the description. Evil in the pulpit is poison in the fountain. In this case we find death in the great pot out of which all the guests are to be fed.

But who shall keep the keepers? There is the great difficulty. This is a task beyond the power of the church and its most valiant champions. We might do well to watch the schools of the prophets, that more of deep devotion and fervent piety should be nurtured there. We might do no more than our duty if we were more jealously watchful over every election of ministers in which we take part, so that none were ordained but those sound in the faith, and filled with the Spirit. Even for these things, who is sufficient? But if these were done to perfection, the plague might still break out among the teachers: their heads might be dazed with error, or their hearts grow chill with worldliness. We are thrown back upon him that keepeth Israel. It is well that it should be so. That which develops dependence upon God works for good.

All plans, however wise in themselves, and however effective they would be if we had to deal with honesty and truth, are baffled by the moral obliquity which is part of the evil. The men are not to be bound by creeds: they confess that such things are useless to them. Their moral sense is deadened by the error they have imbibed. They have become shepherds that they might poison the flock, and keepers of the vineyard that they might spoil the vines: if this was not their first motive, their course of action distinctly suggests it. There is no reaching them: they are bewitched and benumbed. Neither from within nor from without are healthy influences likely to operate upon them; we must carry the case to the great head of the church, and leave it in his hands. When he ascended on high he received gifts for men; and these gifts were men of differing offices, for the perfecting of his people. We have need that he should anew send us such men. Maybe we have forgotten to look to the ascended Lord. Maybe we have been gazing about us to find the men without looking first to Him from whom they must come. Our Lord can speedily raise us up a new race of apostolic preachers from amid our youth, or he can convert those who are now the devourers of the churches. In the Reformation, many of the ablest leaders were called from among the priests and the monks; and today the Lord may breathe the life of faith into those who lie buried in sceptical philosophies. With him all things are possible. When we are at the end of our power and knowledge, we are on the confines of his omnipotence and omniscience. Let us bow our heads as we pass the frontier, and leave behind our own barren impotence to rejoice in his fruitful strength. Our confidence in the church of God lies not in her natural power, but in the fact that ‘God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved.’

Those who lament the declension of many among the present professed ministry should cry day and night unto the Lord to bless his people with pastors after his own heart. Let them also see to it that they walk wisely towards those they have. It behoves established believers to bear their testimony faithfully, but kindly, to young divines who are beginning to step aside; for it may be that a gentle word may save them. In grosser cases, firmness may be needful as to the matter of quitting an unfaithful, Christless ministry; or as to the removal of the false teacher.

In the happy instances in which the gospel is held and fully preached, the faithful should encourage, sustain, and help with all their hearts. Those who are faithful to the truth of God, should find us faithful to them. God will have his gifts valued, and his servants well treated. He has among his chosen ministers those who feel tears of gratitude welling up in their eyes when they think of the kindness of their churches; but there are other worthy men who are buffeted and battered, left without a decent maintenance, and never appreciated as they ought to be. For these the Lord himself will plead with his people, if there be not speedy improvement. Let not true shepherds be forgotten by the flocks to which they minister, nor by any of the faithful, lest their Master should be provoked to recall the gift which is not valued. Now, if never before, our eyes should be upon all the faithful of the land, to hold up their hands. No one must hold himself aloof lest that bitter curse should fall upon him which was of old pronounced on Meroz and the inhabitants thereof, because they came not to the help of the Lord against the mighty.

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Featured image (visible when this post is shared on social media): detail from Arthur James Stark, 1831–1902, A Shepherd with Flock Beneath a Large Tree, undated, Yale Centre for British Art (Public Domain).

The post Spurgeon: ‘Who Shall Keep the Keepers?’ appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

He was a wise man who said, ‘The roundest peg seldom fits into the roundest hole without some paring.’ There is no position in life which, at the first, has not something irksome and trying about it. Newcomers cannot expect to feel at home at once. We remember our first wretched night at a school where we afterwards became supremely happy. Well do we recollect the misery of the first few months of a calling which we afterwards valued and enjoyed. Our mind was sorely depressed on first coming into that sphere in London, which has since been the delight of our life. Let no man, therefore, when he at first commences work in any place, feel at all discouraged by the uneasiness which may come over him. It is natural that he should feel strange in a new position. The burden is not yet adapted to the shoulder, and the shoulder is not yet hardened to the load. While feeling the irksomeness of a fresh position, do not be so foolish as to throw it up. Wait a little while, and time will work wonders. You will yet take pleasure in the very things which are now the source of discomfort. The very worst thing will be to hasten away and make a change, for the change will only bring trial in a fresh form, and you will endure afresh the evils which you have already almost mastered. The time which you have already spent at your new place will be lost, and the same weary first steps will have to be taken upon another ladder. Besides, you may readily leap out of the frying pan into the fire. Change has charms to some men, but among its roses they find abundant thorns.

Has the minister just entered upon a fresh sphere, and does he miss the affectionate warmth of his old acquaintances? Does he find his new people strange and singular? Do they appear cold and distant? Let him persevere, and all this will wear off, and he will come to love the very people to whom he now feels an aversion, and find his best helpers among those who now seem to be utterly indifferent to him. The call of Providence has brought him where he is, and he must not venture to leave because of inconveniences: often it will be his wisdom to regard these as a part of the tokens that he is in the right way, for the appointed path is seldom easy to the feet.

Has our young friend commenced teaching a class in the Sunday-school, and does she find it far less pleasant work than she imagined? Are the children wild and careless and inattentive, and does her own power of teaching appear to be smaller than she hoped? Let her give double application to her holy toil, and she will come to love it. Should she leave it, she may incur the blame of those who put their hands to the plough and look back. The ice has been already broken; the edge has been taken off from the difficulty; let her persevere, and all will be well.

There is no position in this world without its disadvantages. We may be perpetually on the move to our continual disquiet, and each move may bring us under the same, or even greater, disadvantages. We remember a Scotch story of an unlucky family who attributed all their misfortunes to their house being haunted by mischievous spirits, known to our northern countrymen as ‘brownies.’ These superstitious individuals became at length desperate; nothing prospered in house or field, they would therefore pack up all and begone from a spot so mysteriously infested. All the household goods were loaded up, and the husband and the ‘gude wife’ and the bairns were all flitting, when one of them cried out, ‘Brownie is in the churn. Brownie is flitting, too.’ Just so, the matters which hinder a man’s success are generally in himself, and will move with him; and wherein it is not so, he may yet be sure that if by change of place he avoids one set of brownies, he will find another awaiting him. There is bran in all meal, and there are dregs in all wine. All roads must at times be rough, and all seas must be tossed with tempest. To fly from trouble will need long wings, and to escape discomfort will require more than a magician’s skill.

It is wiser to ‘bear the ills we have, than fly to others that we know not of.’ It is probable that our present condition is the best possible for us; no other form of trial would be preferable. What right have we to suspect the wisdom and the goodness of God in placing us where we are? It will be far more prudent to mistrust our own judgment when it leads us to murmuring and discontent. Occasionally, it may be prudent to remove, or to change one’s form of Christian service; but this must be done thoughtfully, prayerfully, and with a supreme regard to the glory of God, rather than out of respect to our own feelings. A tree that is often transplanted will make but little growth, and bear but slender fruit. A man who is ‘everything by turns, and nothing long,’ will be a sort of ‘Jack of all trades, and master of none.’ An increase of spiritual strength by greater communion with God, and a more resolute determination to glorify him in every possible way, will usually conquer difficulties and win success. An extremely hard substance in the world may be cut by something harder: even the adamant can be forced to yield. Double force will make that easy, which now seems impossible. Do not, therefore, change the work, but change yourself. Attempt no other alteration till a distinct improvement in your own self has resolutely been carried out.

We speak thus because we believe that many are discouraged at the outset of a career which, if they could see its end, would fill them with thankfulness; and Satan raises these discouragements to tempt them to leave a position in which they may damage his kingdom and glorify Christ. Courage, dear friend, you have a great Helper; look to the strong for strength. Say with Nehemiah, ‘Should such a man as I flee?’ Who are you that everything should be made smooth for your feet? Are you such a little babe in grace that only the slightest tasks should be allotted to you? Be a man, and play the man. Resolve that even at this present, and where you now are, you will set up the standard, and hold the fort. Many are the instances in which men have commenced their life-work under every possible disadvantage, and for months, and even years, they have seemed to make no headway whatsoever, and yet they have ultimately triumphed, and have come to bless the providence which called them into a place so well adapted for their gifts. It would have been their worst calamity if, under a fit of despondency, they had changed their station or relinquished their vocation. The church would have been the poorer, the world would have been the darker, and themselves the feebler, if they had shifted at the first even to the most promising spheres which tempted them. That rock on which they stood, and mourned the hardness of the soil, was more full of the elements of fruitfulness than the softer soil at a little distance, which invited them to leave. Tarrying where they were, exercising indomitable perseverance, they have softened the granite, cultured it into fertility, and reaped a golden harvest. He is the greatest man who achieves success where stronger men might have failed. If we desire to glorify God, we must not select the comfortable positions and the hopeful fields; it is best to make no selection, but to yield our own will to the will of God altogether. The hole is round enough, it will be difficult to make it any rounder; the proper plan is to round ourselves. If we will but adapt ourselves to our position, the position will adapt itself to us.

It may be that these lines will furnish counsel to a brother whose choice now lies between being a rolling stone and a pillar in the house of our God. To turn tail under present pressure may be the beginning of a cowardly career, neither honourable to God nor to man: to stand fast at this distressing juncture may be the commencement of an established position of supreme usefulness and honour.

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At various times in history, nations and churches have issued calls to prayer, often in times of crisis. Whatever the rights and wrongs of these events, it is unquestionably the case that the Christian should be a praying person, and the church should be a living, praying organisation.

The Lord Jesus Christ himself taught his disciples how to pray, and God has seen fit to record that for us in the Scriptures. We have examples of Christ’s prayers (John 17, Luke 22) for our instruction, and there are many places in the Gospels where he tells his disciples to pray. In Acts we have descriptions of the early church and what they were doing – ‘they devoted themselves to the apostles teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers’ – prayer was a key part of the early church.

In Acts 4 we have the believers praying for boldness in proclaiming the gospel, and when Ananias was told to go to find Saul/Paul, what did the Lord say to him? – ‘look for a man of Tarsus named Saul, for behold he is praying’. Praying should be a natural part of the life of a Christian, it’s why Paul ends his description of the whole armour of God in Ephesians 6 with ‘praying at all times in the spirit, with all prayer and supplication’. Then there is also that well-known passage at the end of James on the prayer of faith.

Prayer was part of the DNA of the early church, and so it should be for us today.

There are multiple places in the New Testament where Paul asks for others to pray for him and the work of the gospel. Examples would be Romans 15:30-32, Ephesians 6:18-20, 2 Corinthians 1:11, Philemon 1:22, and 1 Thessalonians 5:22 where he simply writes, ‘Brothers, pray for us’.

And at this time in the history of the work of the Banner of Truth Trust, the trustees and the staff of the Banner are simply taking the example of Paul and saying ‘brothers and sisters, pray for us.’

We know that there are many people around the world who do already pray for the work of the Trust, but at this time we want to bring a particular need to you for your prayers.

Summary – The Next Chapter Project

There is a pressing need for a new headquarters building for the Banner of Truth in Edinburgh. Much has been done already, but we now need to raise the necessary finances to see the project to completion.

We are asking people like you to pray for the project. Our particular prayer requests are listed below in this article.

And we are asking people like you, where possible, to consider financial contributions to the project. Details of how to donate are listed below.

Read on for more information on this Next Chapter…..

A Bit of History

It is nearly 70 years since the Banner of Truth was founded, and a little over 50 years since the Banner of Truth headquarters moved into its current premises in Edinburgh, Scotland.

From its humble beginnings in the 1950s the founders, Iain Murray, Jack Cullum, had a vision to make available the great truths of God that were to be found in the classic Christian books of the past – books that had enduring value but had become unavailable and out of print.

As the founders embarked on this venture, they probably had little idea of how God was to use their efforts in the coming years.

Along with other influences and people , the ministry of the Banner was used by God as part of a remarkable return to the ‘old paths’ of Christian truth. As men and women were once again able to read the writings of the Reformers, the Puritans, Jonathan Edwards, Ryle, Spurgeon and others, there was a renewed interest in biblical Reformed theology and a renewed understanding of how that affects Christian living, affects the church, and indeed, affects the proclamation of the gospel.

That renewal started off in the UK and US, and it spread to other countries too. For instance, Conrad Mbewe speaks about the impact of Banner of Truth books in his own life and how they played a part in the reformation of the church in Zambia.

There are many people who testify to the impact of the Banner of Truth on their lives. The following quote is from Sinclair Ferguson, who many readers will be familiar with.

Ever since, as a teenager, I happened on my local library’s copy of C. H. Spurgeon’s The Early Years, books published by the Banner of Truth Trust have been the soundtrack of my life. The same is true of friends whose ministries have shaped congregations and in some cases, an entire generation. We thank God for prompting, providing for, and blessing the vision of the trust founders, Iain Murray and Jack Cullum, in the nineteen fifties.

From those early beginnings of the first books and the magazine, the ministers’ and youth conferences developed. The work of the Book Fund grew from the early 1960s and through that endeavour hundreds of thousands of books have gone all around the world to needy places. And then more recently things like the podcast have been added in to the ongoing work of the Banner.

As we look back we can clearly see the hand of God guiding and blessing the work. Something like 20 million books have been distributed, and we have around 900 currently in print. Over two million magazines have gone out, and it is almost impossible to number the ministers, young people, and others who have attended our conferences.

The work of the Banner is multigenerational – the grandson of a man who was at the first Banner of Truth ministers’ conference is now in ministry and attends the conference. We now have men speaking at the Banner Youth Conferences who used to attend when they were young people, and now their children come along to the conference – we don’t think that we have seen grandchildren yet, but that is perhaps only 5 or 6 years away.

People Like You and the Hope for the Future

People like you reading this article are the people who have enabled the work of the Banner. You are the people who have been coming to Banner conferences, reading Banner books and magazines, visiting the website, listening to the podcast, subscribing to our mailings, and following Banner on social media. It is people like you, who over the years, have prayed for the ongoing work of the Banner. It is your work every bit as much as it is the work of our staff – you are a part of this story.

As we look to the future, we pray that the Lord will keep us faithful, keep us ever mindful that it is his work and not ours; as the psalmist says, we may labour but he is the one who builds the house. And our prayer is that our children, our grandchildren and, if the Lord tarries, future generations when we are long forgotten will know a Christian life with the Banner of Truth present.

It is our prayer that new generations of Christians will have their lives shaped by the biblical wisdom and practical theology of the Reformers and Puritans – those truths that are contained in Banner of Truth literature – whether that be books from the sixteenth century or the twenty-first century – and preached at our conferences. It is those truths that are the heartbeat of the Banner work and are the things that people like you have grown to appreciate and value.

The Present Need

The hope for the future that we have just described, presents us with a challenge in the present.

We have been in our current premises for over fifty years, and they have been a God-given provision. But now, as the work of the Banner has grown, and as we look forward to the next chapter of the work and ministry of the Banner, we have recognised that the current facilities are no longer suitable; indeed, they have become a limiting factor on the growth of the work. A new facility has been designed to address these problems.

The current office is no longer suitable for a twenty-first century publishing operation, and it cannot be modified to address that. Some of the facilities that we need to operate, we just don’t have, and lack of office space for daily activities has become a limiting factor in our work.

The design of the new facility solves these problems.

The Banner of Truth has some valuable archive material and many reference books which are difficult even for our staff to access. We would like to make these materials more accessible to staff, but also to make them available for others who visit to view and use them.

The design of the new facility solves these problems.

Then there is an opportunity to expand the conference ministry with day events that would generate additional material for wider dissemination, but we don’t have the space and capacity in the current facilities to host such events. Nor do the current facilities allow for filming and streaming of such events which would allow the events to be shared world-wide.

The design of the new facility solves these problems.

And then there is the warehouse. Designed in the 1970s it is no longer suitable for modern warehouse operations. And it is full! – the Pareto principle, the 80/20 rule that applies to many things in life, also applies to warehouses. Efficient operation means that you should never be operating at over 80% capacity. We are operating at around 98% capacity. Added to that, the warehouse is 5 miles away from the office and that brings other problems.

The design of the new facility solves these problems.

We have many visitors who come and want to buy books and learn about the work of the Banner. Currently there is no dedicated retail space nor any space for presenting the story of the work of the Banner.

The design of the new facility solves these problems.

Needed Infrastructure

The bottom line is that we need a new headquarters to provide a suitable infrastructure for the work that we do now and to secure the ministry of the Banner for generations to come.

Nearly ten years after this need was first recognised, and after much prayer and careful consideration of the options, the conclusion is clear: we must now take the significant step of procuring a new building.

A lot of work has already been done. We have acquired a site on the southern edge of Edinburgh. We have planning permission to develop the site, and we have a settled building design that is in the process of gaining technical permits.

Some site preparation work has been completed, including an archaeological survey, ground investigations for foundation design, and initial site clearance.

But there is a long way to go and we need your help.

So, what might you be able to do to help?

1. Pray

We covet your prayers, your prayers that God would provide for the needs of the Banner of Truth.

We firmly believe that God has answered the prayers of his people in blessing what started off back in 1957 as a small endeavour to make some out-of-print books available, and we know that there are many people who have prayed for the work of the Banner of Truth over the years.

But we need the prayers of his people as we look to the next chapter of the ministry of the Banner.

So, we are asking that you would pray:

Pray that the Lord would provide the financial resources that we need for this major new development

Pray that the Lord would continue to bless the work of the Banner of Truth

Pray that he would provide all that we need to press on with the day-to-day work that he has given us to do

And as we step forward with this necessary project, in amongst all of the work and disruption that comes with creating a new home for the work of the Banner:

Pray that he would enable us not to be distracted, but to keep ‘on mission’ with the day-to-day work

To inform your prayers

In terms of finances, the project is going to cost in the order of £13.5 million, and we currently have about £5 million in hand, so we are looking to raise some £8 million. When you say that quickly, it doesn’t sound very much, but when you sit and think about it, it sounds a lot of money! But it is what is necessary to secure the future ministry and influence of the Banner of Truth. It is what is necessary to put in place the foundation for the future work, for future, yet unborn, generations. We could restate the financial need another way. Putting it in round numbers, could 10,000 people around the world who love the work of the Banner contribute £1,000? – that would work! We know that there are many more people than that around the world who follow what we do and have an interest in the work of the Banner.

So please pray that the Lord will provide. It does sound like a big number, but we have a big God who is able to bless and provide for us beyond what we can even imagine is possible.

2. Share the need

The second thing that you can do to help us is to tell people about what we are doing and ask them to remember the needs of the Banner in their prayers too.

Does your church have a prayer meeting? Please do make the work and needs of the Banner a regular part of your prayer meeting.

Perhaps you have people in your church who know very little about the work of the Banner. Then please tell them about it, tell them how you have benefitted over the years.

3. Give and share the targets.

If you are able to financially support this project, that would be very much appreciated, whether it be a large gift or a small gift. We have an article here on the website about the ‘power of littles’ that you might find interesting and encouraging.

Encourage others to consider giving – could your church consider a gift? Would your church even consider a special offering towards the needs of the Banner?

We also know there are people who God has blessed materially and who are sometimes looking for things that they can support to further the work of the gospel. If you know people like that, then please do make the need known to them. We are by no means expecting this, but we have known of needs like this being met with just one or two significant donations!

Could you be one of those 10,000 people we need?

How to give

• You can make a donation by credit card
• You can send a cheque to:
  The Banner of Truth Trust
  3 Murrayfield Road
  Edinburgh
  EH12 6EL
• Or you can contact our offices if you would like details for a direct bank transfer
  Call +44 131 337 7310, or Contact us

If you would like more information or to discuss a donation email John Rawlinson or call him on the UK office number above.

More Information about the Next Chapter Project

There is a lot of information about the project in the ‘Next Chapter area’ of the website. Do take a look. We have tried to make it interesting and informative. You can read background information about why this project is necessary, there is information about the location of the site in Edinburgh, and you can explore the building design and more.

Final Thoughts

Our mission is to equip the church, to equip you, to equip your congregations, to equip church leaders. We’re not about buildings.

But buildings are necessary if we want to see the Banner mission fulfilled and go forward.

We need facilities.

Please partner with us in prayer and giving for this need.

‘The effective prayer of a righteous person has great power’  – James 5:16

The post A Call to Prayer – The Next Chapter appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Perhaps to the ears of many of us today that doesn’t sound so bad, but for the ministers and the congregations who left, it was to have huge implications. The minister’s homes were lost, the new church had no buildings, there were wages to be paid. There were missionaries across the world who needed supporting.

For many, it seemed hopeless. How could the finances be raised to build the church buildings, build the manses, and support the ministers and missionaries? But Thomas Chalmers, one of the leaders of the Free Church was not daunted by the task. He had a vision for the financing of the new church, a vision that he called the power of littles!

‘What if’ said Chalmers, ‘every family in our churches were to give 1 penny per week. What could be achieved?’ The ‘power of littles’ scheme was launched, much to the scepticism of many in the church. But the sceptics were proved spectacularly wrong – the success of the scheme was astonishing. Some gave large amounts, but the majority of the funds came in from lots of small amounts, ‘the littles’. Within a year something like 470 churches had been built, a training college established (with premises built by 1850), and missionaries funded.

In another website article, you can read about partnering in prayer with the trustees and staff of the Banner of Truth as we seek to provide the premises that are needed for taking the work of the Banner into a new chapter.

With the support of people like you, who read our web articles, buy our books, come to our conferences, listen to our podcast, read the magazine and support the work of the Book Fund, over the last 69 years, the ministry of the Banner has been an integral part of the Christian life of many Christians and churches around the world. We give thanks to the Lord that he has been pleased to bless the work of the Trust and provide for the work over these many years.

Those of us who work at the the Banner of Truth recognize that the work is not just about the staff who have laboured over the years, but it is also about you, about those who have supported the work in so many ways.

As you read, you might be asking what is the relevance of Thomas Chalmers and the power of littles? In the article referred to above, which is a call to prayer, and also elsewhere on the website you will see numbers quoted for the funds that are needed to put in place the facilities that are desperately required for the next chapter of the work of the Banner. And they are large numbers; just as the figures were large in the early days of the Free Church.

Let’s put some round numbers to things. If we need £10M that sounds like a lot of money, and it is, but it is the cost of 2026 construction projects. But what does that break down to in ‘the power of littles’ thinking? It’s 10,000 donations of £1,000. And that sounds like a different proposition.

We have many, many more people on our mailing lists than that, many more people than that who buy our books, and there are thousands of churches across the world who have been part of the story of the Banner of Truth. And you are probably one of them. Can you pray for us?

If people like you are praying for this project, is it too much to expect that our bountiful God could move 10,000 churches, organizations, and individuals to provide £1,000 of funding? Of course, there will be people/churches who may be able to contribute far beyond that, which would be a wonderful provision. And there will no doubt be many who are not able to contribute anything financially. If that is you, we understand that, but we covet your partnership in prayer. Whatever you are able to do, you can play a vital part.

The power of littles!

The post The Power of Littles appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

He was raised in a Christian home, the second of eleven children born to George and Mildred Martin. Although he always gave intellectual assent to the truths of Scripture taught faithfully by his parents and made repeated professions of faith in childhood (the result, he said, of a sensitive conscience and a fear of God’s judgment), it was not until his late teens that he was converted. His considerable native intelligence, zeal and energy—devoted till then to schoolwork, football and baseball—were now and for the rest of his long life to be harnessed for the cause of Christ. Knowing God through knowing Scripture and telling others about this God from his Word became his all-consuming passion. He spent endless hours reading his newly-purchased Thomson Chain Reference Bible, wearing it out within three years, preaching at the local Mission Hall and on the street corner in Stamford CT, and praying with other newly converted friends. He studied at Bob Jones University and Columbia Bible College, graduating Magna Cum Laude in 1956.

He married Marilyn Hart in June 1956 and they enjoyed 48 years of happy marriage and were blessed with three children. Mrs Martin was called home in 2004 after a six-year battle with cancer. In 2006 Pastor Martin married Dorothy Chanski, a great support and blessing to him in retirement, who predeceased him in 2020.

Pastor Martin exercised an itinerant ministry from 1957 until the birth of the Martins’ first child, Joel, in 1961. This change in circumstances persuaded him that he needed to be at home much more than his itinerant ministry allowed. In September 1962 he received a call to be the pastor of a Christian and Missionary Alliance Church in North Caldwell, NJ, about an hour from New York City. During these years he was discovering the doctrines of grace as he preached consecutively through books of Scripture. An instrumental figure in Pastor Martin’s developing understanding of biblical doctrine at this time was Ernest Reisinger (who was to become the first U.S. Trustee of the Banner of Truth Trust in 1967). Through Mr Reisinger, Pastor Martin read such books as The Sovereignty of God by A.W. Pink and The Death of Death in the Death of Christ by John Owen. After about a decade of reading, preaching, praying and thinking, Pastor Martin became unshakeably convinced that Reformed Christianity is nothing less than biblical Christianity and that it ought to bear the fruit of a deep and genuine piety. One of the texts that has informed Pastor Martin’s ministry is 1 Timothy 4.16: Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers. He has preached and lectured and written on this verse countless times, but his own life and ministry stands as a living sermon on the text, as anyone who had the privilege of knowing him can testify.

Pastor Martin faithfully served the CMA church in North Caldwell from 1962 until 1966, but as his convictions developed in an increasingly Reformed direction he realised that he could no longer pastor in a denomination whose beliefs were so different from his own and so offered his resignation. The congregation however, refused his resignation! They loved and esteemed him and his teaching so much that they disbanded as a CMA church, leaving behind the buildings and parsonage. In September 1967 the church reconstituted with the 1689 Baptist Confession of Faith as its subordinate standard and the name Trinity Baptist Church. This congregation was to become Pastor Martin’s life’s work, into which he poured every ounce of his strength and abilities for another forty-six years, seeing the church grow from small beginnings in the little rented building affectionately known as the ‘Cracker Box’ in Caldwell, NJ to the present large suite of buildings (incorporating a Christian School) in Montville, NJ. The name of Trinity Baptist Church and Albert Martin came to be inseparable in the minds of innumerable believers throughout the world who (like the present writer) owe an incalculable debt to the ministry of this servant of Christ and the church he shepherded so faithfully.

Ernest Reisinger not only introduced Pastor Martin to books but to men who would shape him—not least Iain H. Murray and Professor John Murray. As a result of these friendships Pastor Martin was first invited to preach at the Banner of Truth Ministers’ conference in Leicester, England at the age of thirty-four. When Professor Murray was invited to speak at the three evening meetings of the 1967 Banner of Truth Ministers’ Conference he replied, “If Al Martin is to be there I really think he should be asked to take the three evening services you propose for me. He is one of the ablest and moving preachers I have ever heard. In recent years I have not heard his equal. My memory of preachers goes back sixty years. So, when I say he is one of the ablest, this is an assessment that includes very memorable preachers of the past and present.”

Pastor Martin’s preaching gifts were continually sought after in family conferences, pastors’ conferences and other settings all around the world. His preaching ministry was multiplied exponentially through the work of the Trinity Pulpit (begun in 1971) sending out more than 800,000 cassette tapes of Pastor Martin’s recorded sermons to all parts of the globe. In 1977 Trinity Ministerial Academy began as a ministry of Trinity Baptist Church. Pastor Martin taught Pastoral Theology to generations of students at the Academy until it closed in 1998. Alongside these many and varied public ministries, Pastor Martin also came to be a kind of Pastor of pastors, as men sought his counsel on all aspects of pastoral ministry. He was a diligent and conscientious correspondent, carefully replying personally to every enquiry that came across his desk, as well as spending untold hours on the phone counselling pastors who needed his wisdom and encouragement. As a result he and his fellow elders decided to begin an annual Pastors’ conference where the recurring issues about which he was being consulted could be addressed in a more time-efficient way. This conference continues to this day and is one of the highlights of the year for many of those who regularly attend.

If I may speak personally, I first encountered Pastor Martin through the Trinity Pulpit cassette tapes. I listened to his 90+ lectures on Pastoral Theology in the year before entering seminary and they proved to be an ideal preparation for my formal ministry training. Pastor Martin seemed not only to have read every significant work relating to pastoral theology and to have mined them for every gem of wisdom they had to offer, but to have distilled their riches and woven them throughout his lectures. No matter what the topic, Pastor Martin provided counsel that was biblically faithful and practically wise. I never dreamt that one day I would have the privilege of attending the Trinity Pastors’ Conference and getting to know the man whose voice and teaching had become so familiar to me, but thanks to Ted Donnelly’s gentle insistence I did attend each year and got to know the man behind the lectures.

I discovered that every word of these lectures had been hammered out on the anvil of pastoral experience over decades of faithful ministry, and that these lectures had been lived before they were taught. I’m thankful that Pastor Martin was able to commit them to writing and leave in his three-volume Pastoral Theology an enduring legacy for future pastors. Every page provides a window into Pastor Martin’s own life and ministry: for with a consistency that I have rarely witnessed, he has sought to practise every word he teaches. His own character and work commend his teaching and exemplify a saying he was fond of quoting: ‘The life of the minister is the life of his ministry.’

It was as a preacher, however, that Pastor Martin was most used, both in Montville and throughout the world. In the pulpit all his gifts and character were at full stretch—his hard-won understanding of whatever passage of Scripture he was expounding, through a lifetime of prayer and laborious study, his natural rhetorical powers reinforced by decades of reading the masters of preaching, the lucidity of his mind, the powerful logic of his argument, the passionate zeal for the truth, devotion to his Lord and love for those to whom he preached. He used to quote what was said of Robert Murray M’Cheyne, ‘He preached as if he was dying to have you converted’; Pastor Martin preached as if he was dying to have you either converted or sanctified. And supporting his preaching was the scrupulous consistency of a man determined to keep a clear conscience before God and men. By God’s grace he was enabled to finish his race well and keep that clear conscience to the end.

Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith. (Heb 13.7)

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And in his law doth he meditate day and night.—Psa. 1:2.

Having led you through the Chamber of Delight, I will now bring you into the Withdrawing Room of Meditation. ‘In his law doth he meditate day and night.’

CHAPTER 1

The Opening of the Words, and the Proposition Asserted.

Grace breeds delight in God, and delight breeds meditation. A duty wherein consists the essentials of religion, and which nourisheth the very life-blood of it; and that the psalmist may show how much the godly man is habituated and inured to this blessed work of meditation, he subjoins, ‘In his law doth he meditate day and night’; not but that there may be sometimes intermission: God allows time for our calling, he grants some relaxation; but when it is said, the godly man meditates day and night, the meaning is, frequently: he is much conversant in the duty. It is a command of God to pray without ceasing (1 Thess. 5:17). The meaning is, not that we should be always praying, as the Eutyches held, but that we should every day set some time apart for prayer: so Drusius and others interpret it. We read in the old law it was called the continual sacrifice (Num. 28:24), not that the people of Israel did nothing else but sacrifice, but because they had their stated hours, every morning and evening they offered, therefore it was called the continual sacrifice: thus the godly man is said to meditate day and night, that is, he is often at this work, he is no stranger to meditation.

DOCTRINE: The proposition that results out of the text is this, That a good Christian is a meditating Christian, ‘I will meditate in thy precepts’ (Psa. 119:15). ‘Meditate upon these things’ (1 Tim. 4:15). Meditation is the chewing upon the truths we have heard: the beasts in the old law that did not chew the cud were unclean: the Christian that doth not by meditation chew the cud, is to be accounted unclean. Meditation is like the watering of the seed, it makes the fruits of grace to flourish.

For the illustration of the point, there are several things to be discussed. First, I shall show you what meditation is. Second, That meditation is a duty. Third, The difference between meditation and memory. Fourth, The difference between meditation and study. Fifth, The subject of meditation. Sixth, The necessity of meditation.

CHAPTER 2

Showing the Nature of Meditation.

If it be inquired what meditation is, I answer, meditation is the soul’s retiring of itself, that by a serious and solemn thinking upon God, the heart may be raised up to heavenly affections. This description hath three branches.

1. Meditation is the soul’s retiring of itself; a Christian, when he goes to meditate, must lock up himself from the world. The world spoils meditation; ‘Christ went apart into the mount to pray’ (Matt. 14:23), so, go apart when you are to meditate; ‘Isaac went out to meditate in the field’ (Gen. 24:63), he sequestered and retired himself that he might take a walk with God by meditation. Zacchaeus had a mind to see Christ, and he got out of the crowd, ‘He ran before, and climbed up into a sycamore-tree to see him’ (Luke 19:3, 4): so, when we would see God, we must get out of the crowd of worldly business; we must climb up into the tree by retiredness of meditation, and there we shall have the best prospect of heaven. The world’s music will either play us asleep, or distract us in our meditations. When a mote is gotten into the eye, it hinders the sight; when worldly thoughts, as motes, are gotten into the mind, which is the eye of the soul, it cannot look up so steadfastly to heaven by contemplation. Therefore, as when Abraham went to sacrifice, ‘he left his servant and the ass at the bottom of the hill’ (Gen. 22:5), so, when a Christian is going up the hill of meditation, he should leave all secular cares at the bottom of the hill, that he may be alone, and take a turn in heaven. If the wings of the bird are full of slime, she cannot fly: meditation is the wing of the soul; when a Christian is beslimed with earth, he cannot fly to God upon this wing. St Bernard, when he came to the church door, used to say, ‘Stay here, all my worldly thoughts, that I may converse with God in the temple’: so say to thyself, ‘I am going now to meditate, O all ye vain thoughts stay behind, come not near.’ When thou art going up the mount of meditation, take heed the world doth not follow thee, and throw thee down from the top of this pinnacle. This is the first thing, the soul’s retiring of itself; lock and bolt the door against the world.

2. The second thing in meditation is a serious and solemn thinking upon God. The Hebrew word ‘to meditate,’ signifies with intenseness to recollect and gather together the thoughts: meditation is not a cursory work, to have a few transient thoughts of religion; like the dogs of Nile that lap and away; but there must be in meditation a fixing the heart upon the object, a steeping the thoughts; carnal Christians are like quicksilver which cannot be made to fix; their thoughts are roving up and down, and will not fix; like the bird that hops from one bough to another, and stays nowhere. David was a man fit to meditate, ‘O God, my heart is fixed’ (Psa. 108:1). In meditation there must be a staying of the thoughts upon the object; a man that rides post through a town or village, he minds nothing; but an artist or limner that is looking on a curious piece, views the whole draught and portraiture of it, he observes the symmetry and proportion, he minds every shadow and colour. A carnal, flitting Christian is like the traveller, his thoughts ride post, he minds nothing of God; a wise Christian is like the artist, he views with seriousness, and ponders the things of religion, ‘But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart’ (Luke 2:19).

3. The third thing in meditation is the raising of the heart to holy affections. A Christian enters into meditation, as a man enters into the bath, that he may be healed. Meditation heals the soul of its deadness and earthliness; but more of this after.

CHAPTER 3

Proving Meditation to be a Duty.

Meditation is a duty lying upon every Christian, and there is no disputing our duty. Meditation is a duty, 1. Imposed. 2. Opposed.

1. Meditation is a duty imposed; it is not arbitrary: the same God who hath bid us believe, hath bid us meditate: ‘This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth, but thou shalt meditate therein day and night’ (Josh. 1:8). These words, though spoken to the person of Joshua, yet they concern everyone; as the promise made to Joshua concerned all believers (Josh. 1:5), compared with Hebrews 13:5. So this precept made to the person of Joshua, ‘Thou shalt meditate in this book of the law,’ takes in all Christians; it is the part of an hypocrite to enlarge the promise, and to strengthen the precept; ‘thou shalt meditate in this book of the law’; the word ‘thou’ is indefinite, and reacheth every Christian; as God’s word doth direct, so his will must enforce obedience.

2. Meditation is a duty opposed. We may conclude it is a good duty, because it is against the stream of corrupt nature; as he said, you may know that religion is right which Nero persecutes; so you may know that is a good duty which the heart opposeth. We shall find naturally a strange averseness from meditation. We are swift to hear, but slow to meditate. To think of the world, if it were all day long, is delightful; but as for holy meditation, how doth the heart wrangle and quarrel with this duty; it is doing of penance; now truly, there needs no other reason to prove a duty to be good, than the reluctancy of a carnal heart. To instance in the duty of self-denial, ‘Let a man deny himself’ (Matt. 16:24), self-denial is as necessary as heaven, but what disputes are raised in the heart against it? What! to deny my reason, and become a fool that I may be wise; nay, not only to deny my reason, but my righteousness? What, to cast it overboard, and swim to heaven upon the plank of Christ’s merits? This is such a duty that the heart doth naturally oppose, and enter its dissent against. This is an argument to prove the duty of self-denial good; just so it is with this duty of meditation; the secret antipathy the heart hath against it, shows it to be good; and this is reason enough to enforce meditation.

CHAPTER 4

Showing How Meditation Differs from Memory.

The memory (a glorious faculty), which Aristotle calls the soul’s scribe, sits and pens all things that are done. Whatsoever we read or hear, the memory doth register; therefore, God doth all his works of wonder that they may be had in remembrance. There seems to be some analogy and resemblance between meditation and memory. But I conceive there is a double difference.

1. The meditation of a thing hath more sweetness in it than the bare remembrance. The memory is the chest or cupboard to lock up a truth, meditation is the palate to feed on it; the memory is like the ark in which the manna was laid up, meditation is like Israel’s eating of manna. When David began to meditate on God, it was ‘sweet to him as marrow’ (Psa. 63:5, 6). There is as much difference between a truth remembered and a truth meditated on, as between a cordial in a glass, and a cordial drunk down.

2. The remembrance of a truth without the serious meditation of it will but create matter of sorrow another day. What comfort can it be to a man when he comes to die, to think he remembered many excellent notions about Christ, but never had the grace so to meditate on them, as to be transformed into them? A sermon remembered, but not ruminated, will only serve to increase our condemnation.

CHAPTER 5

Showing, How Meditation Differs from Study.

The student’s life looks like meditation, but doth vary from it. Meditation and study differ three ways.

1. They differ in their nature. Study is a work of the brain, meditation of the heart; study sets the invention on work, meditation sets the affection on work.

2. They differ in their design. The design of study is notion, the design of meditation is piety: the design of study is the finding out of a truth, the design of meditation is the spiritual improvement of a truth; the one searcheth for the vein of gold, the other digs out the gold.

3. They differ in the issue and result. Study leaves a man never a whit the better; it is like a winter sun that hath little warmth and influence: meditation leaves one in a holy frame: it melts the heart when it is frozen, and makes it drop into tears of love.

CHAPTER 6

Showing the Subjects of Meditation.

The fourth particular to be discussed is the subject matter of meditation; what a Christian should meditate upon. I am now gotten into a large field, but I shall only glance at things; I shall but do as the disciples, pluck some ears of corn as I pass along.

Some may say, ‘Alas, I am so barren I know not what to meditate upon.’ To help Christians therefore in this blessed work, I shall show you some choice select matter for meditation. There are fifteen things in the law of God which we should principally meditate upon…

The Works of Thomas Watson

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The Banner of Truth Trust was founded in 1957, and early in the following year the Trust published its first books. Thomas Watson’s Body of Divinity was one of them. At that time the book and its author were little known. In an issue of the Banner of Truth magazine (Nov. 1957), the editor, Iain H. Murray, enthusiastically informed readers of the new titles that were soon to come from the press: ‘Watson’s Body of Divinity,’ he wrote, ‘contains some of the richest doctrinal and experimental material to be found anywhere amongst the Puritans.’ And then he asked, ‘Who can estimate how much we have suffered individually and as a nation for neglecting our unsurpassed seventeenth-century literature!’

The book when published carried an interesting note on its copyright page: ‘The unabridged but revised version of Watson’s Body of Divinity, published in 1890,¹ has been followed in this reprint. ‘This present edition, though a comprehensive work in itself, does not contain the whole of Watson’s sermons on the Catechism; it is the Publishers’ wish to reprint the remainder if warranted by public demand.’ Many contemporary voices decried the idea of republishing the books of seventeenth-century Puritans in the middle of the twentieth century. But the founders of the Trust believed that such were needed, and if made available, would be avidly read by Christians whose spiritual appetite was being whetted by the kind of preaching they had heard from the minister of Westminster Chapel, London, Dr D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones. The trustees’ wishes were soon to be fulfilled, and in a manner ‘exceeding abundantly above all they could ask or think’; for not only was Watson’s Body of Divinity to be reprinted many times in the succeeding years,² but alongside it was soon to appear the two other parts of Watson’s sermons on the Catechism, The Ten Commandments (1959)³ and The Lord’s Prayer (1960).⁴ In 1971 the Trust also reprinted Watson’s sermons on The Beatitudes.⁵

The hunger for more of Watson’s writings led to the inclusion of a number of them in the Banner’s Puritan Paperbacks series. The first to appear was A Divine Cordial (1963),⁶ followed by The Doctrine of Repentance (1987), The Godly Man’s Picture (1992), The Lord’s Supper (2004), The Great Gain of Godliness (2006), and Heaven Taken by Storm (2025).

The seven decades that have passed since the beginning of the Trust’s work has witnessed a remarkable growth of interest in the writings of the English Puritans. In acknowledgment of this, the Banner of Truth is issuing The Works of Thomas Watson. It is amazing to think that this will be the first time that Watson’s ‘concise, racy, illustrative, and suggestive’⁷ treatises and sermons will appear in a uniform set of volumes, similar to those produced in former generations for the works of several of his contemporary Puritan authors, such as John Owen, John Flavel, and Thomas Brooks, which have also been reprinted by the Trust. It should be said, however, that not every work that bears the name ‘Thomas Watson’ has come from the pen of the minister of St Stephen’s, Walbrook. In particular, two works, The Witnesses Anatomized, and Jerusalem’s Glory, do not appear to belong to our Thomas Watson, when judged on the basis of internal and external evidence. We are grateful to Dr Chad Van Dixhoorn for his expert insight and helpful advice regarding this matter.

This new production has followed the editorial policy of George Rogers, principal of Spurgeon’s Pastors’ College, who prepared the 1869 edition of Body of Divinity (see his comments on p. xx — reproduced below for the sake of this article). Where it was thought necessary, translations of foreign words and phrases have been added, as well as footnotes to elucidate the text. May the ‘happy union of sound doctrine, heart-searching experience, and practical wisdom’ make these volumes useful to all who read them.

The Grey House
Edinburgh
January 2026

The Editorial Policy of George Rogers (from page XX of Volume I of The Works of Thomas Watson):

‘All editions extant which we have seen, abound in errors and imperfections. These have been rectified, not entirely we fear, but in a degree as nearly approaching to accuracy as in revision of another’s composition could be expected. No alteration of sentiment has been made, but every shade of the author’s meaning has been scrupulously retained. The style has been modernised, so far as could be done without detracting from its own peculiar characteristics. Long sentences have been divided into two or three, where it could be done without injury to the clearness or force of the signification. Modern words have been substituted for such as had become obsolete; Latin quotations restored to their correct form, as far as their sources could be ascertained; and divisions of subjects more perspicuously arranged. The whole, in fact, has been rendered more readable, and consequently more attractive and intelligible, which in our estimation far outweighs all the supposed advantages that could arise from perpetuating the crudities and vulgarities, as they now appear to us, of former times. By popularizing ancient works, their readers are multiplied and their meaning may often be more readily apprehended.’

The Works of Thomas Watson:

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I take pleasure in saying that in no class of society anywhere have I found examples of more pure and elevated piety than among the ladies of Virginia. And I have reason to believe that these examples have rather been increased than diminished since I left my native State. It may, in an important sense, be said that the Commonwealth has been preserved from utter destruction by the prudence, purity and piety of Virginian mothers. They have been the salt which has arrested the progress of moral corruption in the mass of society. Accordingly there is no country in the world, perhaps, where mothers are so much respected by their children, and have so great an influence over them. Ask almost any young Virginian where he will look for the brightest examples of moral excellence, and his thoughts will turn at once to the character of pious females, and perhaps to his own mother, if she happens to be pious. I recollect a young gentleman, who, although he had an uncommonly pious mother, broke over all the restraints of his education, and became a professed infidel and the advocate of licentiousness in its vilest forms; but a gracious God heard the unceasing prayers of his mother, and by means somewhat unusual he was converted from the error of his ways. In speaking of his former career – which he evidently did with shame and humility – he said,

‘I could get over all arguments in defence of religion but one, and that I never could obviate, which was the pious example and conversation of my mother. When I had fortified myself against the truth by the aid of Bolingbroke, Hume, and Voltaire, yet, whenever I thought of my mother, I had the secret conviction which nothing could remove, that there was a reality in religion.’

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In a letter from Henry Bullinger, the eminent divine of Zurich, addressed to Calvin on the 26th of March 1554, he says, “I have enclosed in this letter the Answer I made to the Scotsman whom you commended to me. You will return it to me when you have an opportunity:” (Quid Scoto isti a te nobis commendato responderimus, hisce inclusi. Remittes, cum per opportunitatem licuerit.)¹

The following translation of these Questions and Answers is that given in the publication by the Parker Society, of the very interesting and valuable series of Original Letters relative to the English Reformation, chiefly from the Archives of Zurich, translated and edited by the Rev. Hastings Robinson, D.D., in 1847. The learned Editor, in a footnote, says that “Simler conjectures either Knox or Goodman to be the Scotsman here referred to.” He adds, “It was probably the latter,” judging from the mention made by Goodman, in a subsequent letter, of his having submitted certain Propositions to Calvin and Peter Martyr.

There can, however, be no doubt that Knox was the individual alluded to; for it is ascertained that he visited Geneva in that month of March, and obtained from Calvin a letter of introduction to Bullinger. Christopher Goodman, who afterwards became Knox’s colleague at Geneva, was an Englishman, and his letter, to which Dr Robinson alludes, was not written till August 1558, or four years subsequent to Bullinger’s communication. This paper is the more interesting, as it exhibits the Questions respecting which Knox was desirous of obtaining the sentiments of the more eminent Swiss Divines. “I have travellit (he writes. on the 10th of May)² through all the congregations of Helvetia [Ed., Switzerland], and hes reasonit with all the Pastouris, and many other excellentlie learnit men, upon sic matteris as now I canot commit to wrytting: gladlie I wold be toung or be pen utter the same to Godis glorie.”

AN ANSWER GIVEN TO A CERTAIN SCOTSMAN, IN REPLY TO SOME QUESTIONS CONCERNING THE KINGDOM OF SCOTLAND AND ENGLAND.

1. Whether the Son of a King, upon his father’s death, though unable by reason of his tender age to conduct the government of the kingdom, is nevertheless by right of inheritance to be regarded as a lawful magistrate, and as such to be obeyed as of divine right?

That person is, in my opinion, to be esteemed as a lawful King, who is ordained according to the just laws of the country. And thus it is clear that Edward VI. of happy memory was ordained. For his Father on his death-bed appointed him King, and so claimed for him the right of sovereignty, which they say is hereditary. The States of the kingdom acknowledged him, as they testified by his coronation. They provided him with councillors, endued as he was with great gifts of God; nor was any thing wanting to that kingdom, which is wont to be looked for in the most prosperous kingdom elsewhere. He was therefore a lawful Sovereign, and his laws and ordinances demanded obedience; and he ruled the kingdom after a more godly manner than the three most wise and prosperous kings of that country who immediately preceded him.

2. Whether a Female can preside over, and rule a kingdom by divine right, and so transfer the right of sovereignty to her Husband?

The law of God ordains the woman to be in subjection, and not to rule; which is clear from the writings of both the Old and the New Testament. But if a woman in compliance with, or in obedience to the laws and customs of the realm, is acknowledged as Queen, and, in maintenance of the hereditary right of government, is married to a Husband, or in the meantime holds the reins of government by means of her councillors, it is a hazardous thing for godly persons to set themselves in opposition to political regulations; especially as the gospel does not seem to unsettle or abrogate hereditary rights, and the political laws of kingdoms; nor do we read that Philip the eunuch, by right of the gospel, drove out Candace from the kingdom of Ethiopia. And if the reigning Sovereign be not a Deborah, but an ungodly and tyrannous ruler of the kingdom, godly persons have an example and consolation in the case of Athaliah. The Lord will in his own time destroy unjust governments by his own people, to whom he will supply proper qualifications for this purpose, as he formerly did to Jerubbaal [Gideon], and the Maccabees, and Jehoiada. With respect, however, to her right of transferring the power of government to her Husband, those persons who are acquainted with the laws and customs of the realm can furnish the proper answer.

3. Whether obedience is to be rendered to a Magistrate who enforces idolatry and condemns true religion; and whether those authorities, who are still in military occupation of towns and fortresses, are permitted to repel this ungodly violence from themselves and their friends.

The history of Daniel, and the express command of God, Matt. x., and the examples of the apostles in Acts iv. and v., as also that of many of the martyrs in ecclesiastical history, teach us that we must not obey the king or magistrate when their commands are opposed to God and his lawful worship; but rather that we should expose our persons, and lives, and fortunes to danger. This power is the power of darkness, as the Lord saith in the gospel. And Eusebius records, in the ninth book and eighth chapter of his Ecclesiastical History, that the Armenians took arms against their lawful sovereigns, the Roman emperors, who desired to force them to idolatry. And this conduct of theirs is not reproved. Those very Armenians, many years after, by reason of the ungodliness of the kings of Persia, slew their ungodly commanders, and revolted to the Emperor Justin, as is recorded by Evagrius. (Eccl. Hist. v. 8.) For the Holy Scripture not only permits, but even enjoins upon the magistrate a just and necessary defence.

But as other objects are often aimed at under the pretext of a just and necessary assertion or maintenance of right, and the worst characters mix themselves with the good, and the times too are full of danger; it is very difficult to pronounce upon every particular case. For an accurate knowledge of the circumstances is here of great importance; and as I do not possess such knowledge, it would be very foolish in me to recommend or determine any thing specific upon the subject. For even Paul, we read, made use of the Roman soldiery against those who plotted against him, and was right in doing so: yet at another time, though under almost the same or similar circumstances, he is recorded to have used only the arms of patience, and none else. There is need, therefore, in cases of this kind, of much prayer, and much wisdom, lest by precipitancy and corrupt affections we should so act as to occasion mischief to many worthy persons. Meanwhile, however, death itself is far preferable to the admission of idolatry.

4. To which party must Godly persons attach themselves, in the case of a religious Nobility resisting an idolatrous Sovereign?

I leave this to be decided by the judgment of godly persons, who are well acquainted with all the circumstances, who look up in all things to the Word of God, who attempt nothing contrary to the laws of God, who obey the impulses of the Holy Ghost, and who are guided by circumstances of place, time, opportunity, persons, and things, without making any rash attempt, and who can therefore be directed more safely by their own sense of duty than by the consciences of others. But I would advise them, above all things, that those causes may be removed, on account of which hypocrites are predominant; iniquities, I mean, that we may become reconciled to God by a true repentance, and implore his counsel and assistance. He is the only and the true deliverer; and, as we read in the books of Judges and Kings, and the Ecclesiastical histories, has never been wanting to his Church. Let us lift up our eyes to Him, waiting for his deliverance, abstaining in the meantime from all superstition and idolatry, and doing what he reveals to us in his Word.

Cited from:

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In late November of last year, on the hills above the remote village of Muirkirk in south-west Scotland, three figures picked their way through icy bogland. The purpose of their expedition was to locate a memorial erected to the memory of the martyr John Brown, who was shot on his doorstep by Charles II’s dragoons for his allegiance to the cause of Scotland’s National Covenant. The site was remote in 1685, when Brown was killed, and even now it is hard to reach, accessed by a winding lane and then by a rather overgrown track which ambles over the sodden moorland.

Whatever the difficulties of reaching the site of John Brown’s memorial, we were very glad to do so in pursuit of footage for a new Banner of Truth four-part video series, ‘The Covenanter Story’. The Covenanters were Scottish Christians of the seventeenth century whose commitment to the kingship of Christ in his church brought them into direct conflict with the British state in the persons of the Stuart kings, men who believed themselves rightful rulers not only of the state, but also of the Kirk (church) and the conscience of individual men and women.

The videos, which are now available for free on our YouTube channel, relate the stories of four men whose martyrdoms shed light on different stages of the Covenanter struggle: James Guthrie (d. 1661), Hugh M‘Kail (d. 1666), John Brown (d. 1685), and James Renwick (d. 1688).

John Brown’s death is particularly poignant, and that for several reasons. Unlike the other three men, Brown was not a pastor but an ‘ordinary’ Christian—a man who made his living, such as it was, as a ‘carrier’, an early form of postman. Unlike the other three, his death was not a public execution, but an extra-judicial killing ordered by the brutal commander John Graham of Claverhouse (1648–1689). Finally, Brown’s death was strikingly foretold by Alexander Peden, the ‘prophet of the Covenant,’ and at his wedding, no less. Jock Purves relates the circumstances:

[Peden] had married the Covenanter to Isabel Weir in 1682, and after the simple Puritan ceremony had said to Isabel, ‘Ye have a good man to be your husband, but ye will not enjoy him long; prize his company, and keep linen by you to be his winding sheet, for ye will need it when ye are not looking for it, and it will be a bloody one.’ A Covenanting wedding! The Covenanter’s deepest joys ever carried the shadow of the Cross.¹

To see the still-lonely spot where Peden’s prophecy was fulfilled, and Isabel Weir violently bereft of her husband, was a sombre privilege indeed.

The Covenanters: Much maligned and much neglected

Raised in the south of England, I first came across the Covenanters in the secular historian Neil Oliver’s 2008 television series ‘A History of Scotland’. Oliver’s sympathy for the men of the Covenant was, perhaps unsurprisingly, rather limited. It was easy for him to dress them in the garb of ‘fundamentalism’, men fanatically and irrationally devoted to ‘King Jesus’ (he practically spat those wonderful words out at times!)²

This perspective on the Covenanters—the idea that they were unhinged religious zealots—first gained traction among their original enemies in church and state and persists to this day.

While we rightly reject this characterization, it must at least be conceded that Mr Oliver knows about the Covenanters. By contrast, very few within the evangelical church, including those who would describe themselves as ‘Reformed,’ have a working knowledge of these Christian witnesses. And this is a great shame, for they ‘belong to us,’ so to speak. Those faithful Covenanters who lived out a brave faith in the Lord Jesus Christ in evil days are our brothers and sisters. And while the Presbyterians among us have a special claim on their kinship, the fact is that all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus may legitimately lay claim to them as spiritual ancestors. We confess the same essential faith that they did. More soberingly, we may soon find ourselves facing the same essential conflicts that they did. Let us learn from them with that in mind.

The Covenanters dared to uphold the sovereign claims of Christ in the face of the presumptuous counterclaims of the Stuart monarchs and their stooges in church and state. They paid the price in harassment, social ostracism, imprisonment, forfeiture of land and possessions, and forced exile and transportation to other lands. Thousands of them were killed: some in combat, others because of torture and harsh prison conditions, and others by execution, public or private. Thousands more were, like Isabel Weir, bereaved of loved ones.

A matter of stewardship

In producing these videos, our goal has not been primarily polemical. We are not seeking to defend the Covenanters in any systematic or thorough way from the claims of historians unfriendly to their aims and sceptical of their character or methods. There is certainly a place for such work, and readers interested in the cut-and-thrust of historical apologetics will find much that is still of value in J. K. Hewison’s remarkable two-volume study The Covenanters.³ Rather, our goal has been to introduce the outline of the Covenanter story, along with some choice highlights of Christian love, devotion, and sacrifice found in it, to a new audience. We wanted to provide an ‘on-ramp’, a user-friendly orientation to who the Covenanters were and why they still matter for us as Christians today. We hope, too, that the videos will signpost interested readers to books like Jock Purves’ Fair Sunshine and John Howie’s The Scots Worthies, which provide fuller accounts of great value for Christian instruction and encouragement.

As pressures increase on Christians in the Western world, may these videos serve the church by highlighting witnesses who, in an imperfect yet significant way, bore witness to the Lord Jesus Christ, the only one who may with full justice be called ‘the faithful witness’ (Rev. 1:5).

You can watch the videos here, and sign up to our emails (UK/World list or North America list) to learn more about our books and ministry.

Watch the first video:

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“My heart,—

Being within a few hours to lay down my life for the testimony of Jesus Christ, I do send these few lines as the last obedience of unfeigned and spotless affection which I bear unto you, not only as one flesh, but as a member with me of that blessed mystical body of the Lord;¹ for I trust you are, and that God who hath begun his good work in you, will also perfect it and bring it to an end, and give you life and salvation.

Whatever may be your infirmities and weakness, yet the grace of God shall be sufficient for you, and his strength shall be perfected in your weakness. To me you have been a very kind and faithful yoke-fellow, and not a hinderer but a helper in the work of the Lord. I do bear you this testimony as all the recompense I can now leave you with:—In all the trials I have met with in the work of the ministry, these twenty years past, which have not been few, and that from aggressors of many sorts, upon the right hand and upon the left, you were never a tempter of me to depart away from the living God, and from the way of my duty, to comply with an evil course, or to hearken to the counsels of flesh and blood, for avoiding the cross and for gaining the profit and preferment of a present world.

You have wrought much with your hands for furnishing bread to me and to my children, and was always willing that I should show hospitality, especially to those that bore the image of God. These things I mention not to puff you up, but to encourage you under your present affliction and distress, being persuaded that God will have regard unto you and unto the children of my body, which I leave unto your care, that they may be bred up in the knowledge of the Lord. Let not your wants and weaknesses discourage you: there is power, riches, and abundance with God, both as to the things of the body and things of the soul; and he will supply all your wants, and carry you through. It is like to be a most trying time, but cleave you to God and keep his way, without casting away your confidence; fear not to be drowned in the depths of the troubles that may attend this land, God will hide you under his shadow, and keep you in the hollow of his hand.

Be sober and of a meek spirit; strive not with providence, but be subject to him who is the Father of spirits. Decline not the cross, but embrace it as your own. Love all that love the Lord and delight in their fellowship. Give yourself unto prayer, and be diligent in reading the holy Scriptures. Wait on the ordinances, and have them in great esteem as the appointed means, of God, for your salvation. Join the exercise of piety and repentance together, and manifest your faith in the fruits of sincere obedience and of a gospel conversation.

Value your conscience above your skin. Be not solicitous, although you know not wherewith to clothe you and your children, or wherewith to dine; God’s providences and promises are a true, rich, and never-failing portion. Jesus Christ be all your salvation and all your desire! You, I recommend unto Him, and Him unto you: My heart! I recommend you to the eternal love of Jesus Christ—I am helped of God, and hope I shall he helped to the end. Pray for me while I am here, and praise with me hereafter. God be with you—I am yours,

JAMES GUTHRIE

Edinburgh Tolbooth, June 1st, 1661.’

Featured image (visible when article shared on social media): Edinburgh’s Mercat Cross, where James Guthrie was executed, as it would have been prior to 1756.

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How many times does the Bible tell us to watch our own hearts! Yet how often do Christians slip and fall for want of diligence in this very basic duty! Not for nothing does the Bible say: ‘He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city’ (Prov. 16:32).

Many men have served their countries as president or prime minister yet have not been able to guard their own hearts and lives from simple lusts and common temptations. Many distinguished leaders have commanded armies on land and fleets at sea but have not been able to resist one or two besetting sins. The fiercest battles are not so much those outside of us but those within. This is the Bible’s view of the matter. For this reason God’s Word tells us: ‘Keep thy heart with all diligence: for out of it are the issues of life’ (Prov. 4:23).

Keeping the heart is not a work for which men will give us much praise or recognition. It is a secret activity of the soul, unnoticed by all but God. It will not confer on us an honorary D.D., nor will it advance us to some position of academic prestige. It is tempting, therefore, to dismiss this secret duty of watching over the soul as a task too mean to engage our attention.

We are apt, especially as young Christians, to gauge the importance of our duties by the measure to which they bring us into public notice. This may not be wholly wrong, but it is an attitude which has its dangers. Satan’s ladders to rapid fame and importance usually have a few rotten rungs in them which men do not notice at first.

We are all very immature when it comes to assessing our spiritual priorities. We may prepare diligently to perform our outward duties but hasten through our secret preparations. Our sermons are ready; but our hearts are unready. Our outward lives are impressive, but our private lives may be in disarray. Sin is preached against orthodoxly enough but not mourned over enough in the secret place. How else can we explain the ministerial falls that shock and horrify us? How else can we account for sudden scandals and tragic apostasies? The hidden man of the heart was forgotten in the hurry and bustle of attending to more public duties.

The Bible corrects this unbalanced approach to spiritual priorities. It teaches us to look to our own souls before we put the whole world right. It commands us to make sure of the root before we concern ourselves with the branch or the bud. If the root is healthy there will be good fruit in due season. But premature fruits may wither and die in a little while where the roots of our souls are neglected. ‘Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away’ (John 15:2).

The soul is the greatest treasure which we possess. To guard and to look to the health of the soul is therefore our highest wisdom. Yet how seldom do men do so! If society reflects men’s secret view of life, how small a place the soul has in our day! Our fathers built churches, but we build supermarkets and sports halls. Our fathers read Bibles and studied theology, but we read – if we read at all – of fantasy, fiction and folly. Our fathers watched over souls – their own and those of their children – but our age thinks only of the body and its appetites. The world outside may be expected to follow its own pagan view of life. But the Christian must never lose his biblical priorities. The soul must come first, if God is to receive his glory from our lives.

The Christian should care for his soul as ‘God’s acre’ within him. After all, the soul is that which distinguishes a man from a beast. It is that part of us which originally bore God’s image. Our souls are immortal, eternal, deathless. Though sin has so tragically marred the image of God within the soul, yet regeneration has, in the true Christian, restored this lost image. If we knew the value of the soul we should keep it like the crown jewels and set every faculty we have on the alert to protect it.

Let one reason for caring for our souls be this: that one slip may erase at a stroke all the good we ever did. Let a man be a faithful preacher or missionary for a score of years. Yet, if he slips and spoils his reputation by some thoughtless fall, all his good deeds done over twenty years will be buried in men’s minds under this one fall, which lasted perhaps but for a day. Such is the precarious nature of the life which we live as spiritual persons. We walk on a moral tight-rope all our way till we get safely to the ‘other side’.

Let a second reason for keeping watch over our souls be this: the stealth of our enemy. Did we but remember it as we should; we have an adversary who will stop at nothing to bring about our fall, if only he can. He well knows our frailty and our love of ease. He can match his bait to our taste.

He can give us, as he gave to Peter, a fire at which to warm ourselves. He can find for us, as for Samson, a Delilah to lure us into fatal sleep. He can still mix his cup with such cunning that the drinker will not wake up till his soul is in the flame of hell. Let him who doubts all this consider Balaam, or Saul, or Judas Iscariot.

If we need a third warning not to neglect our souls let it be the extreme care which our blessed Lord took over his. At the age of twelve, he was more concerned to acquire knowledge of the truth than afraid to upset his parents. This is a lesson on how a perfect man values the means of grace and hungers to do the will of God. Loved ones must, if needs be, suffer a little sorrow, but no hindrance must keep him from being about his ‘Father’s business’ (Luke 2:49). Then watch our Lord in his wilderness temptations as he repulses the enemy at every turn and vanquishes his every assault. Watch Christ too as he puts Simon Peter in his place: ‘Get thee behind me, Satan’ (Matt. 16:23). Friendship is precious, but it must not come between Christ and his mission to go to the Cross.

To keep watch over our souls, as Christ here shows us, means to keep fierce and jealous guard over our sense of obligation to God. It is to put the will of God first in our every action. It is to prefer the course of duty to the path of pleasure. It is to hate all influences and all suggestions which might weaken our devotion to the will of God, or which might unsettle our resolve as Christians to put the glory of God before every other consideration whatever.

It is so very possible, our hearts being corrupt, to lose our ‘first love’ (Rev. 2:4). Either through bad example, or through self-deception, or merely because of declining resolve, the Christian can learn to lower the standard of his obedience. What began in his life as gold has over the years become silver – then brass, and at last is only iron and rust. He once ‘lived’; now he has only a ‘name to live’ (Rev. 3:1). His silver is now dross, and his wine mixed with water. In the true believer this is never completely the case. But it may to a fearful extent become so. What has gone wrong? He neglected his soul.

When a house suffers from subsidence, it is all affected, from the roof to the foundation. So, when a Christian neglects his soul, all aspects of his spiritual life undergo a visible decline. He once believed in an infallible Bible; now he smiles at this as youthful fancy. He once rose up early enough to pray and to prepare his heart for the day ahead; now he tumbles out of bed with scarcely a minute for prayer or meditation. Once he kept his place in the house of God and was never late; now he drags himself to church and is never on time. What went wrong? He neglected his soul.

As a camp-fire in the jungle dies down, the wild beasts creep closer. Similarly, as a Christian neglects his soul, his indwelling sins stare him in the face with more menace. Old sins return to haunt him. Youthful lusts, formerly felt to be dead, rise up again with new vigour. Strange languor and disabling torpor make it well-nigh impossible for the once-active believer to fight off his spiritual enemies. His witness dies down. His worship cools off. His love for fellowship diminishes. He invents excuses for absenting himself from godly company. He is but a pale shadow of the man he was. What has gone wrong? He has neglected his soul.

The souls of preachers and ministers are as fully open to the kinds of decay here spoken of as are the souls of other Christians. Let no man deceive himself. When the battle to keep up our spiritual lives is lost in the secret place, it will not save men from the downward slide that we are called ‘Reverend’ or that we wear clerical garments. The neglected soul will not long retain its love of pure doctrine or evangelical worship.

The minister who begins by neglecting his soul will end, if he does not repent and recover in time, by secretly (and then openly) denying central doctrines of the faith. The need for a New Birth is now no longer taken seriously by him. Bare assent to some Creed is all that he now asks of his church members. Bit by bit the whole message of the Bible slips from him. The Atonement, the Resurrection, the Virgin Birth, the wrath of God, the Second Coming, the Judgment to come – all these articles of the faith slip from his personal creed, even if he has not yet got the courage, or rather the moral integrity, to say so. How did this preacher change from being evangelical to becoming a sceptic? He neglected his soul.

Strange to say, neglect of soul is all too often a feature of the mature, rather than of the young Christian. It was in his maturity that good Noah was overcome with wine. It was a mature, not a young, David who – sad to relate – looked at Bathsheba with such tragic consequences. It was a mature Solomon who multiplied wives and clouded his good reputation by tolerating their divinities. It was a mature, not a teenage Hezekiah who showed off his treasures to the foreign ambassadors. These things were written for our learning.

There are snares and pitfalls for the old Christian, just as there are for the young. Perhaps it is because he fancies himself to have passed the danger-zone of life that the older believer may relax his concentration. So much is now behind him of the conflict of his pilgrimage. He is almost in sight of the golden shore. But the veteran pilgrim must fight on to a finish. To relax too soon may be to get a stain on his good record and lose a portion of his great reward.

The way back from all neglect of soul is given us, as all good counsels are given us, in the Word of God: ‘Be zealous and repent’ (Rev. 3:19). Appoint a time for prayer and fasting. Afflict your soul. Weep for your past sins. Cry mightily to God for pardon and a fresh sense of his love. Hate the sinful coldness which dampened your first ardour for Christ. Recall the price paid for your soul in his precious blood. Beseech the Almighty for a new baptism of his Spirit to rekindle the altar-flame. Perhaps more of us need this repentance than we have realized.

Featured Photo (visible when the post is shared on social media) by Vadym Alyekseyenko on Unsplash

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Somewhere, Stuart Briscoe has commented that three attributes of a pastor are needed: ‘The mind of a scholar, the heart of a child, and the hide of a rhinoceros.’ The last attribute seems rather incongruous, even unspiritual, but it has much to commend it. Given the nature of the pastor’s tasks, especially that of preaching truths that are needful but not welcome to the natural man, it is to be expected that the pastor will meet with criticism. Christ warns us on this very point: ‘Woe to you, when all people speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets’ (Luke 6:26). The handshake and the compliment at the end of the service may not be what you need.

Encouragement is helpful but applause is dangerous

It is right for Christians to encourage one another. In the midst of his struggles with Saul, David was strengthened by the words of his friend, Jonathan. Jonathan urged David not to fear, and reminded him of God’s promise that the kingship would go to him, not Jonathan. In this way, Jonathan ‘strengthened his [David’s] hand in God’ (see 1 Sam. 23:19, 20). The same notion is found in the New Testament. The Greek word for ‘encourage’ can also mean ‘exhort’ or ‘counsel,’ but Christians are told to encourage one another (1 Thess. 4:18; Heb. 3:13). This is not as the world would view encouragement, which is usually along the lines of soft words and flattery. Everyone wins a prize! Paul encouraged the fledgling church at Lystra that it was through many tribulations that we enter the kingdom of God (Acts 14:22). Biblical encouragement is very much linked to truth.

It was Israel at its most rebellious who told the prophets to ‘speak to us smooth things’ (Isa. 30:10). When Hananiah prophesied that the exile of Judah would only last two years, that was rather more appealing than Jeremiah’s prophecy that it would last seventy years (Jer. 28). Ezekiel was told by God: ‘And behold, you are to them like one who sings lustful songs with a beautiful voice and plays well on an instrument, for they hear what you say, but they will not do it’ (Ezek. 33:32). Exhortations to winsomeness provide a large part of the advice given today to preachers, but salesmen and politicians may be winsome. It is needed, but it is not the same as love, and it is certainly not a substitute for truth.

There are a great many apocryphal stories told about Charles Spurgeon, and this could be another one. Someone is supposed to have listened to the Prince of Preachers, and thought that he would encourage him by telling him that he had just preached a wonderful sermon. Spurgeon was aware of the temptation, and replied: ‘Yes, the devil just told me that ten minutes ago.’ John Newton made the startling observation that ‘If opposition has hurt many, popularity has wounded more.’¹ Many a good pastor has absorbed too much from his friends in the congregation and too little from his critics. This can only have detrimental effects on the cause of biblical truth in the world.

In the eighteenth century, George Whitefield was always ready to be rebuked and to repent. To one minister in England, he wrote: ‘When I am unwilling to be told my faults, dear Sir, correspond with me no more.’² He was not easily discouraged, as he did not live for applause. In 1742 at London, Whitefield recorded: ‘I was honoured with having a few stones, dirt, rotten eggs, and pieces of dead cats thrown at me’.³ Yet he continued preaching for three hours. There is a real, albeit often hidden, strength in humility.

The people who help most may not necessarily be the most spiritual or friendly. Douglas Kelly comments rather wistfully that ‘Along with most ministerial salaries comes the added bonus of free criticism: some of it loving and helpful, and some of it mean-spirited and untrue.’⁴ There is much truth in that, but it is not always so clear. The trouble is that some of the loving criticism may be unhelpful, while some of the mean-spirited comments may actually be of greater use.

It is not uncommon to hear pastors state that their policy is to take notice of criticisms made by mature Christians, but not those made by those who belong to the world. Think this through first. At a devastating time in David’s life, his son, Absalom, rose up in rebellion against his own father, but ended out losing his life in the ensuing civil war (2 Sam. 15–18). As a father, David was shattered, and so wept and mourned. The people, however, interpreted this to mean that David was not appreciative of those who had fought on his side. It is Joab—of all people—who told David to speak kindly to his servants and comfort them. As a result, the crisis passed, and David reclaimed the throne (2 Sam. 19). Joab was imbued with political astuteness rather than sanctified godliness, but his rebuke of David was timely and needed.

In the days of king Josiah, in 609 B.C., the Pharaoh Neco went up to fight the Assyrians at Carchemish. To do so, he would pass by Judah, and Josiah—a good and godly king—decided to confront him. Neco warned him that if Josiah opposed him, he would be opposing the will of God. Josiah rejected this, and paid the penalty: ‘He did not listen to the words of Neco from the mouth of God’ (2 Chron. 35:22), and was killed in battle. Paying heed to Neco would not have appealed to Josiah—and it is mysterious—but in this instance Neco had more wisdom than Josiah.

Miriam and Aaron were the siblings of Moses, and not usually his rivals, but at one point, they succumbed to the sin of jealousy, and asserted in the name of a distorted egalitarianism that God did not speak only through Moses. For this presumption, Miriam was struck with leprosy, but Moses bore no grudges, and prayed to the Lord for her healing. Aaron too came to see the folly of his ways (Num. 12). Presumably, the three siblings all learnt something from the episode.

When Nehemiah was threatened and undermined in his work of rebuilding the wall around Jerusalem, he refused to lose his nerve, being certain that ‘I am doing a great work’ (Neh. 6:3). Do not be easily swayed: preach, read, pray, try to evangelize, and most of all, seek to grow as a Christian. Persevere in the God-given tasks before you.

I was once told by a Jehovah’s Witness that I was arrogant. It did not seem right to argue back with great vehemence that I was really the epitome of lowliness and humility. Surely this was a rebuke from God, using one who did not know the gospel of the God-man Jesus Christ. David accepted that the curses of Shimei actually came from the Lord (2 Sam. 16:5-14, especially noting verse 11). We will miss much-needed rebukes if we insist on only listening to those whom we think have earned the right to correct us.

Spurgeon was the prince of preachers, but also the wisest of counsellors. He was a shrewd observer of humanity, including himself. So, he warned: ‘Those who praise us are probably as much mistaken as those who abuse us.’⁵ ‘Too much consideration of what is said by our people, whether it be in praise or in depreciation, is not good for us’ (p. 406). One wonders how much the ‘Believe in yourself ’ pop psychology has been behind the modern rise in what is called ‘mental illness.’ Spurgeon surely is correct in saying that ‘In proportion as praise pleases you censure will pain you’ (p. 331). We are not the centre of the universe.

Concentrate on the content of what is said

Rather than analyzing the motives of any critic, it is better to spend more time in sifting through the content. Jesus describes himself as ‘a man who has told you the truth’ (John 8:40). We in turn are to seek the truth about ourselves. We are not to think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think, but to think with sober judgment (Rom. 12:3).

The risen Christ told hostile Saul, who was to become the apostle Paul: ‘It is hard for you to kick against the goads’ (Acts 26:14c). As one who was convinced that Jesus was a blasphemer, and that his followers were dangerous enemies of the God of Israel, Saul was like an animal—an ox perhaps—which kicked against a sharpened stick and so hurt itself. Deep down in the midst of all his ferocious Pharisaism, Saul had a sense that not everything was right. He was actually opposing God, not serving him.

Truth hurts and yet truth heals. The church will outlive any pastor. It was not set up as a pastor-appreciation society but as a blood-bought, Christ-centred, Bible-dependent body of sinners whom God is gathering to himself. The favour of God is what keeps us going, not the applause of the world, whether inside or outside the church.

Sometimes not responding is the best policy

It is the weak person who feels he has to win every battle, no matter how trivial. It is a common fallacy to think ‘Something must be done. This [proposal or response] is something. Therefore, let’s do it.’ Just as there can be wisdom in silence (Prov. 10:19; 17:28), so there can be wisdom in doing nothing. Job thought so (Job 13:5)!

A whisperer separates friends (Prov. 16:28), so be careful what you listen to and what you retain. A soft answer will often turn away wrath (Prov. 15:1). Prickly personalities are not to be commended, for love covers a multitude of sins (1 Pet. 4:8). Modern Western societies have become increasingly litigious as they have made taking offence almost an art form, and dressed it all up in the name of ‘justice.’ Many things are to be left to the judgment (Rom. 12:18, 19); perfect righteousness belongs to the new heavens and new earth after the return of Christ (2 Pet. 3:13).

Being impervious to others is not a fruit of the Spirit. It may give us a hide like a rhinoceros but only in a Stoic, not a Christian, sense. God does not need us (Acts 17:25), but most wonderfully, Isaiah tells us that in all the affliction of his people, God himself was afflicted (Isa. 63:9). Part of our striving to reflect the character of God will mean we weep with those who weep (Rom. 12:15). To the Thessalonian church, Paul, this man amongst men, could say that he was like a nursing mother taking care of her own children (1 Thess. 2:7). Toughness is not insensitivity. In the words of Richard Baxter: ‘The whole of our ministry must be carried on in tender love to our people. We must let them see that nothing pleaseth us but what profiteth them; and that what doeth them good doth us good; and that nothing troubleth us more than their hurt.’⁶

Wisdom issues are difficult, but they have always been with us. Martin Madan, whom John Newton knew personally and loved, and who was William Cowper’s cousin, wrote Thelyphthora (‘A Treatise on Female Ruin’), which set forth an argument in favour of polygamy. Madan considered that a man who seduced a woman should marry her even if he was already married. Cowper ended up writing against his own cousin, but Newton was not convinced that it ought to be replied to, although he did think that he had to preach on the subject.⁷ He knew that people could not be battered into submission as if problems were only ever moral and spiritual, and so he wrote in 1796: ‘Sometimes when nervous people come to me, distressed about their souls, and think that is their only complaint, I surprise them by asking if they have no friend in Cornwall, or in the north of Scotland, whom they could visit’ (pp. 389-90). A response that seems right in one situation may not be entirely wise in another situation.

Face-to-face is almost always better

The apostle John said that he had much to write, but instead he preferred to come to ‘the elect lady’ and talk face-to-face (2 John 12; 3 John 13, 14). Even when Paul departed from this practice, as he did with the Corinthians, he made it clear that he wanted to visit them, but did not do so for what he saw as crucial reasons: ‘But I call God to witness against me—it was to spare you that I refrained from coming again to Corinth’ (2 Cor. 1:23). He thought it in their own best spiritual interests—as well as his own—that he not make ‘another painful visit’ (2 Cor. 2:1).

The book of Proverbs is not designed to give us hard and fast rules and promises of life, but rather observations of reality. One proverb to ponder is: ‘When a man’s ways please the Lord, he makes even his enemies to be at peace with him’ (Prov. 16:7). There are few things more conducive to that than a face-to-face meeting conducted with the maximum amount of goodwill.

Social media is usually the worst place to interact with people, although it can be used for good—by a small minority. Email is a playground which easily becomes a battleground. Facebook and similar networks are even more fraught with danger. On many occasions the various forms of social media only help to reverse Proverbs 16:7, and turn our friends into our enemies. The result is an escalation of hostilities: ‘The beginning of strife is like letting out water, so quit before the quarrel breaks out’ (Prov. 17:14).

Love and humility in all circumstances

The Preacher warns us: ‘Do not take to heart all the things that people say, lest you hear your servant cursing you. Your heart knows that many times you yourself have cursed others’ (Eccles. 7:21, 22). In his invaluable Lectures to My Students, Spurgeon has a chapter entitled, ‘The Blind Eye and the Deaf Ear.’⁸ Here he comments that ‘It is the part of the generous to treat passionate words as if they had never been uttered.’ Spurgeon comments as the Preacher does, that ‘[You] would now be in an awkward position if you were called to account for every word that you have spoken, even about your dearest friend.’ Blaise Pascal put it even more graphically: ‘I state it as a fact that if all men knew what others say of them behind their backs, there would not be four friends left in the world.’⁹

It is a disturbing truth that it is often those with the sharpest tongues who have the thinnest skins. To cite Spurgeon again: ‘You must be able to bear criticism, or you are not fit to be at the head of a congregation; and you must let the critic go without reckoning him among your deadly foes, or you will prove yourself a mere weakling.’¹⁰ None of us enjoys having our faults—real or imaginary—pointed out to us. But if you admit your faults, no one will argue with you.

On 15 February 1553, just a year before he began his series on Job, Calvin opened up about the need to be tamed by trials:

It is very difficult for me not to boil over when someone gets impassioned. Yet so far no one has ever heard me shouting. But I lack the chief thing of all, and that is being trained by these scourges of the Lord in true humility. And therefore it is all the more necessary that I should be tamed by the rebukes of my brethren.¹¹

Know yourself and know what you need to experience to curb your temptations.

Attacks on Charles Simeon—and there were plenty—were diffused by his humility. ‘My enemy, whatever evil he says of me, does not reduce me so low as he would if he knew all concerning me that God knows.’¹² In suffering, he could not fail to be right, but in acting he could easily do amiss. Such an attitude softens our hearts and prepares us to love all, and to desire their welfare.

Josiah Bull has rightly emphasized Newton’s strengths as his humility, sound judgment, and the beauty of his all-round character. His conclusion is compelling: ‘it was his goodness rather than his greatness that rendered him so especially attractive—the abundance of the grace of God that was in him.’¹³

The last word belongs to one of the Puritans, and all pastors would do well to make it their own:

Teach me how to take reproofs from friends,
even though I think I do not deserve them;
Use them to make me tenderly afraid of sin,
more jealous over myself,
more concerned to keep heart and life unblameable;
Cause them to help me to reflect on my want of spirituality,
to abhor myself,
to look upon myself as unworthy,
and make them beneficial to my soul.¹⁴

Peter Barnes is editor of The Australian Presbyterian. For many years he was minister of Revesby Presbyterian Church, NSW, Australia, where he continues as a member.

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Books which have little or no ‘unction’ about them are generally of little use to us as preachers.

Of course I do not state this as a universal rule. We do not expect to find unction in biblical dictionaries and encyclopedias, for example, yet they may be very helpful and valuable. But a truly good book usually has a sanctifying influence. It does more for us than give us information. We are stirred up, made prayerful and given an increased longing to be better Christians and better servants of Christ. It is quite clear that not a few of the most eminent preachers of the past used and recommended this ‘unction test’. Whitefield, for instance, applied it to Bunyan. He thought that Bunyan and the persecuted Puritans knew what it was to speak and write ‘under the cross’ and believed that ‘the spirit of Christ and of glory’ rested on them and their work:

They in an especial manner wrote and preached as men having authority. Though dead, by their writings they yet speak: a peculiar unction attends them to this very hour . . . without pretending to a spirit of prophecy, we may venture to affirm, that they will live and flourish, when more modern performances, of a contrary cast, notwithstanding their gaudy and tinsell trappings, will languish and die in the esteem of those whose understandings are opened to discern what comes nearest to the scripture standard.¹

Spurgeon applied the same test to commentaries. In the 1880s one of the most prestigious of all new works of exposition was The Pulpit Commentary which ran into a series of large volumes. These were generally orthodox in content but they did not satisfy Spurgeon, the preacher. When the second volume on John’s Gospel appeared in 1888, with exposition by a Reverend Reynolds and homiletics by a Professor Croskery, Spurgeon had this to say in his review:

The good men who wrote the exposition and outlines have in no case erred on the side of too spiritual an interpretation. John’s gospel is a book in which the teaching is spiritual to a very high degree, and the great qualification for expounding it is not so much learning as an unction from The Holy One. We will not say that these divines know very little of unction, but assuredly we see small traces of it in their volume. The modern spirit has a tendency to dry up the Scriptures, and to leave them like the skins of grapes when all the juice has been trodden out in the wine-press. . . What they have seen and written is good of its sort, but an hour with Hutcheson is worth a month of Croskery. Commentators of the present age may be more critical than their predecessors, but they are not more edifying and improving . . . We are growing so wise that soon we will be ashamed of everything savoury and sustaining.²

Today we have many commentaries unknown to Spurgeon offered to us and, though the unction test is hardly in favour with modern authors, I do not think we need to be ashamed to use it. It will certainly save us a lot of time. Twentieth-century commentators such as R. C. H. Lenski, William Hendriksen, and others, who breathe a spirit of reverence for Scripture, are the only kind of commentators we really need. And I should add, we do need them. We cannot envy those congregations whose preachers suppose that they rarely need to turn to a commentary.

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Paul was born in Blackpool in 1940, where his parents attended the Baptist Tabernacle. He remained of a conservative Calvinistic outlook for the rest of his life; he once joked that the volume How Helm Has Changed His Mind would be a slim one. The Tabernacle in Blackpool was significant for another reason: At its services, Helm got to know Judith—they were married in 1962.

After studying philosophy, politics, and economics at Worcester College, Oxford, Paul was offered a job at the University of Liverpool; he remained in the Department of Philosophy for nearly thirty years until 1993. While at Liverpool, he had Christian fellowship at various Baptist chapels.

In 1989, tragedy struck: Judith died of cancer, leaving Paul to finish bringing up their four children, the youngest of whom was still at home. In 1993, Paul became Professor of the History and Philosophy of the Christian Religion at King’s College, London, and in 1994 he married Angela, with whom he had a daughter. In the year 2000 Paul took early retirement from King’s, but the next year moved to Vancouver, Canada, where he became the inaugural J I Packer Professor of Philosophical Theology. Paul retired for a second time in 2005, but was lured back out of retirement again, this time by the Highland Theological College.

Academically, Paul was at ease in three spheres: He was by instinct and mental constitution a philosopher, and his logical acumen and ability to make sharp distinctions were well respected on the seminar floor, but he also wrote much on various aspects of systematic theology, particularly the doctrine of providence, and on historical theology, especially Calvin and the Reformed scholastics. He was an inspiration to his doctoral students, who found in him a personal example as well as a source of academic knowledge.

Paul’s output was prodigious: he wrote sixteen books and edited a further nine, not to mention hundreds of articles, chapters, and reviews. He was also much in demand as a conference speaker, both in the UK and the USA. But Paul never let the honours he received go to his head. He was just as likely to be found feeding the tortoises, gardening, or taking on all comers in table tennis as he was to be leafing through academic tomes. He was always modest about his accomplishments and wrote many commendations for others’ books.

Above all, Paul was a man of solid and unswerving Christian faith, who held firmly to the doctrines of grace as he found them in the Christian Scriptures even when faced with personal tragedy. Among the many tributes that have poured forth since he died, it’s noteworthy that many outside the Christian faith, as well as his fellow believers, have appreciated his great integrity, kindness, and good humour.

Paul is survived by Angela, his five children, eight grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, and his brother Philip.

Daniel J. Hill is Senior Lecturer in Philosophy at the University of Liverpool.

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There are not wanting here and there the signs that good Christians are suffering from a kind of spiritual metal-fatigue. In our fellowships iron rarely sharpens iron any longer. Much preaching that is orthodox lacks that ring of conviction which is needed to thrust it home into sinners’ consciences. A guilty tameness smothers our zeal. Prayers are hum-drum and predictable. The apostolic fire has died down and looks like dying away. The gospel, even where it is preached at all, is clothed with the impeding garments of excessive politeness and respectability. Our sermons are frequently no more than a gentle homily or a quiet talk about good religious ideas. Slowly and imperceptibly evangelical people are coming to terms, emotionally and intellectually, with the spirit of the age. Though we should not care to say so, we nonetheless betray our inner despair of ever seeing revival, or even a reversal of the present trend downwards.

This weariness of soul is not difficult to explain. A deep-seated disappointment has paralysed many Christian people in our day. Both preachers and hearers are disheartened. The recovery of the doctrines of purer orthodoxy some thirty years ago has not yet been matched by a recovery of spiritual power or influence in society. The world passes by the doors of many excellent churches with as much unconcern today as it did when the old theological liberalism reigned in them, and before new and biblical ministries began in them. Preachers who deserve to be listened to by a thousand have to be content with less than fifty hearers.

The vision which many had only a few years ago has not been realised. The mirage has not yet become a pool of water. The promises of God are seemingly at variance with his providences. A bewilderment and a confusion has come upon us. There is a widespread feeling that something has gone wrong. Meanwhile we all grow older. There is an unspoken agreement that the fight is too hard for us. When shall we be able to withdraw from the scene of battle with at least some semblance of honour?

Spiritual drowsiness is very catching. The air soon becomes heavy with it. Active life and movement, once so noticeable, gradually dies down as one after another succumbs to the spirit of drowsiness. As the voices of young children in a nursery die down one by one at their rest time, so the once active testimonies of God’s people become gradually silent in a sleepy time. The Bible portrays for us times when the people of God enter into a period of collective sleepiness. The age in which Moses was born was such a time. Israel had settled down in Egypt. Even their hard servitude did not take from them a love of the Egyptian life-style. They were very loath to follow Moses out into the wilderness. They had dreamed too many this-worldly dreams to want to give up the leeks, the onions and the garlick for the uncertain prospect of receiving their ‘Promised land’. Four hundred years in Egypt had sent Israel fast asleep.

The days of the Judges were another period in which the church of God was largely asleep. It is amazing to us as we read the Old Testament to see how flagrantly Israel was disobeying God’s Word at the period of the Judges. They appear to have been blind to the plainest teachings given so recently by God through Moses. Even some of the Judges themselves had serious blemishes in their faith and conduct. ‘Every man did that which was right in his own eyes’. If we require an explanation for the state of life at that time, we must surely put it down to a widespread and almost universal soul-sleep. One might have hoped better of the church in New Testament times. But it was not to be so. For a thousand years, till Luther woke up with a start in Germany, the European church slept soundly while Bible, gospel and grace lay hidden out of popular sight. Only here and there was there a warning cry from some remote Italian valley or passing Lollard preacher. Europe, however, as a whole slept on. Dark night covered the one continent of mankind which ought to have carried the torch of gospel truth to every corner of the globe.

It is solemn, too, to recall the words of Christ which inform us, evidently, that the very last period of world history will again be characterised by widespread spiritual sleepiness: ‘They all slumbered and slept’ (Matt. 25:5). Not only the nominal church, represented by the five foolish virgins, will be asleep when the Bridegroom returns; but also the true church herself, though certainly prepared, will have sunk down with weariness and drowsiness just before the wedding day dawns.

The above instances – not the only ones we could cite – are evidence enough to remind us that a blanket of sleep may fall across large parts of the visible church in some ages. This is a sheer fact of history and one which the Word of God presents to us for our warning. No doubt there are many who sleep in the best ages of the gospel and under the liveliest of preaching. No doubt society is at best little more than half-awake at any time to the moral and spiritual duties of God’s Word. Nevertheless, it would seem to be a clear lesson of Scripture that some ages are marked by a sleep that is well-nigh universal.

Sleep is a remarkable phenomenon. It is a kind of animated death. In sleep we are oblivious to the real world. The thief may be at the door, or the fire already running up the curtains of the bedroom. But when asleep we neither notice, nor know, nor care. On the other hand, in the dreams of sleep we care for what is unreal and delusive. Men flee from savage beasts, or fall from cliffs, or sail to treasure islands. Our attention is taken up with what is fictional and fictitious.

Just so is the sleep which comes upon men’s souls in ages when the gospel is weak. Armies of heresies threaten the church and people of God; but the church’s watchmen are so fast in slumber that they neither realise nor care. When here and there a faithful voice is raised in warning, there is a general outcry and a demand for the maintenance of silence. Or there may happen some scandalous abuse which threatens to mar the church’s reputation and her credibility. But when sleep has laid the faculties of the soul to rest, men resent the unpopular question and seek to smother the healthy spirit of enquiry. Nothing is so unwelcome to a sleepy man as the alarm which summons him from his bed.

When soul-sleepiness is widespread, men are all taken up with childish dreams and empty trifles. They make great sound and bluster about small matters of procedure and right order. But they may as easily overlook the great matters of justice, mercy and truth as those Pharisees who ‘strained at a gnat and swallowed a camel’ (Matt. 23:24). The cry of all – or almost all – is for more sleep, and woe be to him who tries to wake them!

None who is even half-awake needs to wonder what the explanation is for the state of our modern societies. True religion is banished from the school-room and from the media. The slaughter of aborted infants proceeds like a daily holocaust, Governments meet to legislate away the Sabbath and to decriminalise sodomy. Leprosy is breaking out in every limb of the body politic and there is no physician to heal us. Scarcely a voice is raised in high places to call us to repentance. Such voices as there are are either not heard or else not heeded. Poor nations! Alas, that so great a civilisation as ours should be so deep in spiritual slumber!

It is not surprising that evangelical Christians at this hour should feel numb with battle-fatigue. It is no great miracle if they too, catching the general spirit of drowsiness, are tempted to give in to unresisted slumber at this hour. But this is what we must at all costs refuse to do.

By some means or other Christians must contrive to stay awake and on their feet in these days. If, in order to do so, we must cast out the television set or cut off our right arm, we had better do so. To fall asleep at this hour is treason to Christ and to our own souls. It is to lose our ‘full reward’ (2 John 8), or, worse still, to lose our reward and our soul altogether.

The way to avoid sleeping when poisonous gas fills the room is to run for fresh air and to breathe deeply. We owe it to God and to our salvation to run for fresh oxygen for the soul in this present crisis. What is to stop us all from a radical re-appraisal of our present life-style?

Instead of meeting for merely social purposes, might we not as Christians meet to read good books to one another? The time which we have formerly devoted to easy viewing and listening, might we not devote, in part at least, to secret prayer or family prayer or neighbourhood prayer? The hours which have been spent cruelly criticising the preacher could in future be put to better use in the careful study of the Westminster Confession and Catechisms. Some of the energy formerly spent in excessive recreation and socialising might be more productively spent visiting the widows in their affliction ( James 1:27) and in comforting the downcast.

Above all others, preachers must cry to heaven for grace to stay awake at this hour. Let them plunge their heads in the cold waters of God’s truth till their dreams of worldly ease are thrown aside. Never did the world more urgently need an awakening ministry than now. Never was there a more crucial hour for lifting high and blowing loud on the gospel trumpet. All heaven watches as we strive to keep awake while all others sleep. It will stand to our eternal credit if we keep at our post. Sooner than we think perhaps may come the dawning of a new and better day. The wakeful servant must one day sit in honour at his Master’s table (Luke 12:37).

More editorials from Maurice Roberts are collated in The Thought of God, Great God of Wonders, and The Christian’s High Calling. Rev. Roberts is also the author of Finding Peace with God: Justification Explained and The Great Transformation: The Sanctification and Glorification of the Believer.

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Our Daily Food: Or Portions for the Lord’s Household (small clothbound, 208 pages)

James Smith was a contemporary of Spurgeon’s and a previous minister of the New Park Street Chapel. He was a prolific writer, and a variety of devotional materials flowed from his pen. Our Daily Food, or, Portions for the Lord’s Household is one of the briefest and sweetest, produced in a form close to the original, a fine size to put into a pocket or purse and to carry with you. Each day provides, very simply, a phrase of Scripture and an appropriate selection of holy verse, some of which those who love the older hymns will recognise, while others will seem fresh to most readers, the source material having fallen out of fashion. Smith thus doles out a nugget of spiritual nourishment to stir and sustain the soul through the course of one’s daily labours. An ideal gift, and especially valuable as a devotional resource for those whose energies are flagging or whose capacity is low, perhaps because of sickness or old age.

The Shorter Catechism Illustrated from Church History and Biography (clothbound, 284 pages)

John Whitecross was the father-in-law of John G. Paton, and this collection suggests much about the character and quality of Paton’s wife. The current Banner edition is entitled The Shorter Catechism Illustrated from Church History and Biography. The format is exceedingly simple: after each question is stated and answer is given, the author provides two or three pages of illustration and anecdote, some more verifiable than others, but all warm and colourful. For those learning the catechism, especially as part of family worship or church life, this book will wonderfully enliven and illuminate the process, as well as suppling an abundance of material for any preacher’s stock of illustrations. Presented in hardback, it is an excellent resource.

Shapers of Christianity (small paperback, 112 pages)

In Shapers of Christianity Nick Needham provides a highly-selective and high-speed tour of Christians whom the Lord has used to glorify his name, or—to use the book’s subtitle—‘brief sketches of twelve outstanding Christians from across the ages.’ While it is hard to trace any other obvious criteria for a selection that spans two thousand years, and travels from Lyon with Irenaeus to Princeton with Machen by way of Canterbury, Geneva, Oxford, and Zadonsk (yes, Zadonsk), each of these little pen-portraits is fascinating in its own right. In lively prose and with refreshing bluntness (and sometimes surprising sympathy), Needham analyses and assesses each of these personalities and their contribution to the cause of Christ. This book will introduce you to brothers you perhaps had no idea existed, as well as refresh your acquaintance with names you might think you already know.

Pain of a Particular Kind (small paperback, 88 pages)

Pain of a Particular Kind: The Loss of a Child is a harrowing little book, as reflected in its title. It develops themes which Peter Barnes has addressed in shorter forms, growing out of his own wrestling with the topic as pastor, parent, and grandparent. Some of it will make difficult reading, especially for those who have suffered this pain for themselves. Loaded with quotation and anecdote, the book considers the sorrow of loss, God’s answers to our questions, helping those who grieve, and God’s final word. Acknowledging our lack of certainty at some points, Barnes points us back toward the certainty of God himself. There is a straightforwardness to the book which might cause some to wince, but the author wields his knife to cut out the fat and to leave the lean meat. That food will ultimately strengthen the soul.

Isaiah’s Oratorio: An Appreciation of Isaiah 24–27 (small clothbound, 184 pages)

Hywel R. Jones offers us Isaiah’s Oratorio: An Appreciation of Isaiah Chapters 24–27. The treatment is technically and theologically dense and precise, but still lucid and sweet. The insightful introductory material, essential for understanding the author’s approach, soon gives way to the exposition itself. There Jones moves from the overture through the seven movements of Isaiah’s oratorio, this holy flood of speech and song. To call this a literary treatment is not to diminish the author into a mere teacher, still less to suggest that he treats the inspired text with anything less than a proper reverence. It is rather to recognise the depth of careful and prayerful thought and the devout scholarly awareness that lies behind and seeps into this book. Most of us will not and should not attempt to wrench this book, for all its poetry and piety, into sermons. However, properly employed, it will help us to preach Isaiah 24–27 as the glorious Word of God, and to anticipate the day in which God makes his Word glorious.

Unveiling the Cross: Beholding and Proclaiming the Whole Christ (clothbound, 272 pages)

Another treatment of Isaiah comes from W. Ross Blackburn, his entitled Unveiling the Cross: Beholding and Proclaiming the Whole Christ. It is an interesting book, somewhat derivative in that it deliberately responds to and interacts with Sinclair Ferguson’s Whole Christ. This is not to disparage the book, for where Hywel Jones gives us a glorious sweep over several chapters of Isaiah, Blackburn offers a deep dive into chapter 6 to set before us Christ as the crucified one. In some respects, Isaiah 6 acts more as a springboard than a target, providing for a wide-ranging treatment of the main theme of the book. Although the prose can be pedestrian at points, with supporting quotations produced somewhat relentlessly, the author’s fixation on the person and work of the Saviour as the One who makes atonement gives the book its colour and force. If more preachers and authors aimed to keep the dying Saviour so central, we would do very well.

Two New Volumes of Texts that Transform

Finally, Terry L. Johnson gives us another two entries in the ‘Texts that Transform’ series with Texts that Transform Marriage & Family (small paperback, 184 pages) and Texts that Transform Our Hope (small paperback, 160 pages). In each, the approach is the same: to take a series of key texts along a particular theme and to develop them practically. With a wide range of reference, and what seems a deliberate attempt at brevity, these volumes act as helpful primers to believers who may not have considered these issues before. Neither volume offers anything novel, and that is a commendation. The book on marriage and family introduces mankind as male and female, the mutual duties of husband and wife in the divinely-ordered estate of marriage, and then several chapters on child training and education. Similarly, the book on hope introduces us to Christ’s glorious kingdom, and then covers heaven and hell, before concluding with an intriguing consideration on the freedom of God—essentially, the right of the Almighty to do as he will, in accordance with his inscrutable wisdom and to the end of his own glory. Brief and punchy, these are clear introductions to important issues that may prove useful to those who are learning for the first time, as well as to those who need to ground in Scripture their developing ideas, and arrange a growing understanding with order and sense.

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In Acts chapter 14, beginning with verse 21, we see the result of their work:

‘And when they had preached the gospel to that city and made many disciples, they returned to Lystra, Iconium, and Antioch, strengthening the souls of the disciples, exhorting them to continue in the faith, and saying, “We must through many tribulations enter the kingdom of God.” So when they had appointed elders in every church, and prayed with fasting, they commended them to the Lord in whom they had believed…’
Acts 14:21-23

This is how biblical mission takes place: The right men are sent out to preach the biblical gospel – with the goal of biblical conversions, so that men come to true faith through the gospel, these men join together in individual churches, and faithful elders are appointed over these churches.

This is the goal of mission: planting independent churches under the leadership of faithful elders, where God’s Word is proclaimed in purity and God is glorified in truth through worship that pleases Him and a corresponding church life.

This means: Here the cycle starts over again. This newly planted biblical church then again leads a biblical church life, and in doing so develops again this biblical longing for mission under much prayer and fasting, in order to then send out qualified men and plant biblical churches – and the cycle then starts over again. No, it is not sufficient – nowhere near sufficient – to build schools and construct orphanages and hospitals somewhere. All of this may be good and right and also important, but biblical mission work has biblical churches as its goal. If this is not the aim, if this is not the intention, then we cannot speak of biblical mission work. The Lord has commanded us to make disciples, to baptize them and to teach them to observe all things that the Lord Jesus Christ has commanded us. This happens in biblical churches under the supervision of biblical elders.

Taking all of these things together, we see what we as the church of Jesus Christ need to pay attention to if we want to do biblical mission work. First of all, we need a biblical church life. We have the duty to faithfully proclaim God’s Word in all truth, to offer pure worship – not according to our own ideas, but according to God’s Word – and also to base our whole church life on the fact that the Lord Jesus really is the Lord and to prioritize obeying Him in all matters. Then we must also be careful not to become self-satisfied, but rather to develop a biblical longing under supplication and fasting, pleading with the Lord to use us and do great things for the glory of His name and for the furtherance of His kingdom.

Moreover, it is important that we nurture men in our midst – men who are learning to preach biblically, men who are useful for the kingdom of God. Doing this must be one of our main concerns! If our country needs one thing, then it is biblically oriented preachers. 2 Timothy 2:2 says, ‘And the things that you have heard from me among many witnesses, commit these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.’ Who has the responsibility to train men so that they become pastors, elders, missionaries, preachers? Who has the responsibility to conduct seminars and provide Bible teaching? The church. Seminaries and Bible schools may help with this, but it is and remains the responsibility of the church to train men and then also to send out men, to appoint men, to nurture men in their midst, so that they learn to be faithful in all things. And the church must seek the Lord and plead that He would send out such labourers, also from their own congregation – men whom they would preferably keep for themselves. It is important that the church develop this selflessness, this willingness to make sacrifices, to send out these men, even when it hurts. A biblical church is always a church that is willing to make sacrifices and that also makes sacrifices for the furtherance of the kingdom of God.

If the concern of mission is on our hearts, we must be willing to let men go. Even if this means momentary weakening for us, others will be strengthened and blessed by this. And we do not need to worry or fear or mourn, because if we act selflessly for the kingdom of God, then God will bless this and He will equip us with sufficient teachers. And when we send out these men, then it is with the biblical goal that there would be biblical conversions and that this would lead to the planting of biblical churches where biblical elders can be appointed.

In all this we must be conscious of the fact that mission work without the help of our God is an absolute impossibility. Therefore, to emphasize it again, mission work is first and foremost prayer work. Let us therefore plead that the Lord would send out labourers, because mission work is a work of the Spirit. The Spirit enables people for Himself who the Spirit Himself calls – men whom He trains and forms for this ministry. Therefore, we must seek the help of the Holy Spirit with much prayer. Acts 13:4 says, ‘So, being sent out by the Holy Spirit …’ If we need one thing, it is this: the work of the Spirit, that He would enable us, give us boldness, grant us opportunities so that people would be converted, that He would call people and send them out and give His guidance in all of this. Mission ultimately is a work of the Holy Spirit. Therefore, let us plead for the fullness of the Holy Spirit! Our attitude must not be, ‘God, we have some plans. Maybe You can help us with them!’ Instead, we should pray, ‘Oh God, it is Your mission work! It is Your doing! And it is not only an honor and a joy for us, but also our longing to be a part of Your great rescue mission! Please be gracious to us!’

And when the Holy Spirit empowers us, when He fills us, then this does not result in some kind of a circus, but in boldness for witness, that we start to preach God’s holy Word with boldness and develop a zeal for mission. A missionary by the name of Henry Martyn went to Iran, even though this was very dangerous. He said, ‘The spirit of Christ is the spirit of mission. The nearer we get to Him, the more intensely missionary we become.’

Therefore, may the Lord bless us with His Holy Spirit, with the spirit of mission, so that He would do His work in our midst! May it be that some of you also would be called to become missionaries, that you would be part of a biblical church where you prove to be faithful, and that the Lord would then one day speak in such a way that it would be clear to all: You are called and set apart to go. May the Lord do this work of the Spirit in our midst, for the glory of His name alone!

Peter Schild is a pastor of the Evangelical Reformed Baptist Church of Frankfurt.

First German edition, 2022. Original German title: Gemeinde und Mission. Translated by Michael T. Schmid. All Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version®. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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‘As they ministered to the Lord and fasted, the Holy Spirit said, “Now separate to Me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” Then, having fasted and prayed, and laid hands on them, they sent them away.’
Acts 13:2-3

God Himself, the Holy Spirit, answered their praying and fasting. He probably spoke through the mouth of those prophets when He said, ‘Now separate to Me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.’ Just imagine what this must have meant for the church: they had to send away two of their best men! But this did not come as a surprise to the church. It was evident to all that these two men would be worth considering for missionary service. For a long time, these two men had already been a team and their ministry had been a great blessing to many. It was clear to all that the hand of the Lord was upon them.

When we take a look at Acts 11, we read about their joint work beginning in verse 25: ‘Then Barnabas departed for Tarsus to seek Saul. And when he had found him, he brought him to Antioch.’ He wanted Paul to be useful in the church. ‘So it was that for a whole year they assembled with the church and taught a great many people. And the disciples were first called Christians in Antioch.’ This passage talks about these two men who for more than a whole year had proved themselves to be faithful teachers in the church and taught many. They were a team and this was evident to all. They were a great blessing throughout that whole year.

And then something else happened – we read this later in chapter 11: The church received a prophetic revelation that there would be a famine. Therefore, the Christians collected money for the believers in Judea to help them and assist them in this difficult time. And who was sent out to deliver the money? We read in verse 30, ‘This they also did, and sent it to the elders by the hands of Barnabas and Saul.’ These two men had proved themselves to be faithful as a team. They had served for over a year as teachers in the church and had been a blessing to many. They had been teaching a great many people. These were men who had proved themselves to be faithful to such a great degree that they were even entrusted with all of the money. There was no thought that they would take it for themselves. These were faithful men, seasoned teachers of the church, who had stood the test. Therefore it is not surprising that the Holy Spirit then said: ‘Now separate to Me Barnabas and Saul!’ It was no surprise. The lives of these men had previously shown that these were men of God who were among those most useful for the church. Their qualification and their calling were evident to all.

So we see that the church was called to send out some of its best men. It was not to send those who it could somehow do without. It was called to send out some of its best men, because biblical mission work means: a biblical church sending out biblically qualified preachers to proclaim the gospel in other places – men who have proved themselves to be faithful in their teaching and in their lives, men who know the Word of God and have proclaimed it. The mission field needs preachers of the Word who have proved themselves in a church to be orthodox, able to teach, and faithful. Yes, it is also good to send out doctors, Bible translators and teachers who might teach people to read and write. A missionary can be supported in many ways, but the spearhead of missions is the missionary who is a faithful teacher of God’s Word. We are speaking about men who are biblically qualified and who have been sent out by a church in order to plant churches, men who one would actually want to appoint as elders in the church because they are qualified, men whose lives and teaching satisfy God’s demands according to His holy Word. We cannot allow ourselves to make lower demands on missionaries, as though missionary service were somehow a lesser ministry compared to the ministry of elders in the church.

Is the basic prerequisite for becoming a missionary to have studied theology?

Everywhere in our country, in big cities, there are young men who have not been trained, who are not firm in faith, who have not proven themselves as faithful in a biblical church, who have not been sent out by a biblical church. They simply went to Bible school or to a seminary, and then they send themselves. They simply decided for themselves to now become a preacher. No church had any say in this. But is the basic prerequisite for becoming a missionary to have studied theology? You must have learned to be faithful, to be a member of a biblical church under the oversight of biblical elders who speak into your life. You must have proven to them that you are faithful in little things. Then the Lord will also place you over greater things.

But our country is full of young men who ‘play’ church, who say, ‘Oh, we want to reinvent church!’, who say, ‘It is cool to plant churches.’ The kingdom of God is no playground for people to run around and try things out. It is not about experiments, it is not about adventure. The church is the blood-bought bride of Christ. One does not play around with her.

Church planting and biblical missions are the work of proven men who have been sent out by a biblical church – men who have proven themselves to be faithful and able to proclaim God’s Word, who have been evaluated and commissioned by a church that follows the biblical guidelines. However, there also are men who believe that they do not need any of this, because God supposedly spoke to them. God somehow laid it on their heart to become missionaries. Why would one then still need the authority of a local church?

Have you noticed who is included in this list of men? The apostle Paul! He had a personal encounter with the risen Lord Jesus Christ, and the Lord called him to be the apostle to the nations. Have you noticed that Paul did not simply make his way? One actually might expect this to have been the case. But what happened in the previous years? Paul, you have been called by the Lord Jesus Christ – why don’t you just go then? But he does not go. In God’s providence, he first comes to a church, and in the list of men he is named last – an apostle, last of all! He first had to learn to serve with humility and to preach the Word in a church context. And only then he was sent out, when he had proven himself to be useful in the church. He waited until the Holy Spirit spoke through the church and sent him out.

Who do you think you are? How can you think about bypassing the church of Jesus and simply being a self-proclaimed missionary? The apostle Paul was sent out by a church. This is what biblical missions looks like: A biblical church sends out biblically qualified men concerning whom all in the church were sure that the Spirit had called and enabled them. Look at their lives and their ministry: These are faithful men, servants of the Word. These are men whom one would prefer to keep and appoint as elders, because it is clear that they would be such a benefit to the church. These are men who are trusted, because one knows that they do the work that is necessary – this difficult work that is required to plant a church at another location.

This is exactly what this church at Antioch did: It sent out some of its best men – and this surely was painful! Do you believe this was easy for the church? Certainly not. But they were willing to let some of their very best men go – men who had contributed so much to the ministry and who were such a great blessing. You see, sending churches must be prepared to not seek their own good. For the glory of God and for the salvation of the lost, they must say to their most important men: Go, we send you! We will make this sacrifice!

The church at Antioch was completely committed to God’s words. In Acts 13:3 we read that they laid hands on Barnabas and Paul. In doing so, they were saying, ‘We as a church are sending you according to the Word of the Lord. We are completely committed, not half-hearted. The Spirit is sending you and we are completely committed to this.’ Take note of what they do here again. We have seen it already in verse 2: ‘As they ministered to the Lord and fasted.’ And then in verse 3, in connection with their laying hands upon Barnabas and Saul, we read again, ‘Then, having fasted and prayed…’ They truly were a church of fasting and prayer, because they knew that what was happening here was a work of the Lord. It must happen in His power. In fact, it only can happen in His power.

Again: Biblical missions is based on prayer. Mission work is prayer work. It is a work of the Lord. It is the Holy Spirit who calls and enables missionaries. It is the Holy Spirit who sends out missionaries through His church.

We read further in verse 4, ‘So, being sent out by the Holy Spirit, they went down to Seleucia.’ Missions is the concern of the Spirit. He Himself equips men. He prepares them for the hard work of missions that requires proven men who have been formed by the Spirit for this ministry. It is a work of the Spirit. But for what purpose? What is the goal of missions?

This is the question we will address in the fourth and final article.

Peter Schild is a pastor of the Evangelical Reformed Baptist Church of Frankfurt. One more instalment of Peter’s booklet will appear here on the Banner of Truth website in the coming two weeks. 

Featured image (visible when article shared on social media) by Christian Papaux on Unsplash. 

First German edition, 2022. Original German title: Gemeinde und Mission. Translated by Michael T. Schmid. All Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version®. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

The post Biblical Mission Means Sending Out Biblical Missionaries appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

In the small cemetery of Union Theological Seminary, beside a narrow road in the heart of rural Virginia, the earthly remains of Thomas Ephraim Peck were buried in the first week of October 1893. Two years later the first of these three volumes of his collected writings was published, and the set was complete by 1897. Since then the world has moved on, just as Union Seminary itself has moved to Richmond, the state capitol of Virginia, and, except for a few, Peck’s writings are as little known as that quiet country grave at Hampden-Sydney. In part the explanation lies in their rarity, for the original print run was probably not large and until the present there has been no reprint. A more fundamental reason, however, lies in the fact that even by the time of his death the convictions which he represented were losing ground both among the Southern Presbyterians to which he belonged and among evangelicals more generally. To read Peck today is to realise how much has changed and to conclude that either he or many contemporary spokesmen for Christianity are far astray from Scripture.

Born in 1822, Peck was brought up by his widowed mother in Columbia, South Carolina, where he graduated at the College of that state at the age of eighteen. It was here, also, that he came under the saving power of the gospel through James Henley Thornwell and by the latter he was prepared for the work of the Christian ministry. Such was Thornwell’s esteem for his pupil that, when he was delayed in taking up the pastorate of the important Second Church of Baltimore, he sent Peck, who was not yet twenty-four years old, to fill its pulpit in the meantime. Unexpectedly Thornwell was not released from Columbia and the Baltimore congregation were happy to appoint his deputy to the charge in 1846. One of the finest of Thornwell’s surviving letters was one of encouragement written to ‘My Dear Thomas’ at Baltimore in 1848: ‘I have never entertained a doubt that you were the Lord’s instrument, to accomplish the Lord’s work, in the sphere of your labours … Effective sermons are the offspring of study, of discipline, of prayer, and especially of the unction of the Holy Ghost.’ But Peck was evidently finding that his attainments in preaching fell far short of his desires and Thornwell, often regarded as the preacher par excellence, consoled him with these words, ‘My own performances in this way fill me with disgust. I have never made, much less preached, a SERMON in my life; and I am beginning to despair of ever being able to do it.’¹

In a fuller biographical account which the reader will find in the third volume of this set, C. R. Vaughan speaks of Peck’s years in the Second Church of Baltimore as years of slow progress and of difficulty. No doubt this was preparatory to his future greater usefulness. Few men have safely attained to spiritual leadership without a preparatory period of humbling. During this period he edited with his friend, Dr Stuart Robinson, the Presbyterian Critic and Monthly Review (1855-56).² For a longer period in later years he was to be an associate editor of the Southern Presbyterian Review.

In 1857, when Peck was expecting to move to Lynchburg, Virginia, the Baltimore Presbytery directed him to remain but to remove to the charge of the large Central Church left vacant by the departure of Stuart Robinson. Thus, as Vaughan says, ‘Peck, suppressing his personal preferences, assumed the care of a large and important field in the same city in which he had spent twelve years of discouraging work.’

Leaving Baltimore in 1860, Peck took up the great work of his life at Union Theological Seminary. This Seminary, the first in the South, had arisen as a department of the College of Hampden-Sydney in 1823-24. Soon the two became separate institutions and the Seminary gained its own buildings in the same location with John Holt Rice as its first president.³ The death of Rice in 1831 slowed the growth of the work but it increased again notably after the appointment in 1853 of Robert Lewis Dabney as professor of Church History and Government. The next year Benjamin M. Smith was elected professor of Oriental Literature. By 1860, when student numbers stood at thirty-nine, it was thought desirable to transfer Dabney to the chair of Theology, leaving Peck to take the chair of Church History. After the devastation of the Civil War, from which several of the students never returned,⁴ this same division of duties between Peck and Dabney continued until the latter’s removal to Texas in 1883. Thereafter, Peck succeeded Dabney as professor of Theology, and continued in that post through the last ten years of his life until his death at the age of seventy-three. Dabney outlived him and it is indicative of the abiding affection which existed between the men who taught at Union that he directed that on his death his body was to be taken back to Hampden-Sydney. ‘He loved the homely little cemetery,’ his biographer writes, which contained the dust of friends and of three children.⁵

In speaking of ‘the great men of the past,’ Ernest Trice Thompson, in his monumental history of the Presbyterians of the South, lists them at one point in this order: ‘Thornwell, Dabney, Palmer, Peck . . .’⁶ In the last thirty years the memory of the first three has begun to be revived with the republication of their works and biographies.⁷ It is fitting that these volumes of Peck should also appear. C. R. Vaughan, his successor at Union, said of him: ‘As an expositor of truth, as an exegete of Scripture, as a philosophic student of history, he was probably without a rival in his day.’⁸ Peck’s mother survived him, and to her Palmer wrote of her son:

He was so strong in his convictions, so unswerving in fidelity to truth, so powerful in his humility before God to prevail in prayer, so wise and considerate in counsel, that he always seemed a strong staff on which to lean in time of trouble and of peril to the Church. On these public grounds I always admired and loved him; while a closer personal affection for him grew out of the intercourse of the years long since gone by.⁹

In a chapter entitled ‘Some Presbyterian Leaders of Our Own Time’, Henry Alexander White wrote: ‘First among these let us name a beloved instructor, that godly teaching elder, Thomas E . Peck.’¹⁰ Despite such tributes it was only with difficulty that T. C. Johnson brought together anything that began to approach the worth of the man in these volumes. This is reflected in the original title given to this set, Miscellanies of Thomas E. Peck. It was a fitting description, for the volumes do not contain ‘works’ prepared by the author for publication. Many items included were indeed written for the press and gathered by Johnson from various journals, but they were not composed with any sequence in view. Other material is from surviving manuscripts of his speeches or (in volume 3) from ‘notes’ used in the seminary class or in the pulpit.¹¹ C. R. Vaughan observed the difficulty in the sketch of Peck’s life which originally appeared before this set was published: ‘It was a fault with him, as it is with other gifted men, that he published so little.’

Bearing this in mind the present publishers considered a reprint of only parts of these three volumes. We decided against that course for the very good reason that, while there is undoubtedly an unevenness in some of the material, striking and suggestive insights turn up repeatedly in sections where they might least be expected. All in all, readers will prefer to make their own decision on what remains of abiding value.

In view of Peck’s identification with theology which is already more readily available in the writings of Thornwell and Dabney, it may also be queried whether Peck’s writings contain anything of distinctive importance which merit their republication. We believe that they do and that it would be a mistake to suppose that to have read one of these men is to have read them all. While representing a common ethos they thought too much of the need for independence in judgment not to be in occasional disagreement. Dr Thompson illustrates this by a subject keenly debated after the Civil War, namely, whether or not black congregations should be encouraged to meet separately and  independently of the white, contrary to previous practice. Dabney was for that proposal. Peck was against and asked:

Why . .. should the freedmen who cultivate our soil, serve us in our houses, cook our food and nurse our children be put into a church by themselves? … If the freedmen should, all of them, become Presbyterian in faith and order we ought to welcome them all into our pale. This distinction of race, be it remembered, has been expressly abolished by Christ.¹²

One of Peck’s arguments against the separation proposed brings out a prominent aspect in his thinking. He pointed out that the black population constituted ‘above all others’ the poor of the land and asked, ‘Are we prepared to say that these poor shall be excluded from our pale?’ This was driven home with the assertion, ‘I have no doubt that one great cause of the little progress made by the Presbyterian Church in Virginia is its neglect of the poor, both white and black.’ In harmony with this view are two sermons in this volume and his address on ‘Systematic Beneficence’ which led to the Presbytery of Baltimore reminding its congregations that giving is ‘an act of religious worship . .. an ordinance of God as much as prayer, or preaching or singing.’¹³ In part out of the same concern Peck was a leader in the endeavour to have the office of the deacon restored to its full and proper function in the Presbyterian churches where too often ‘it remained comparatively unimportant.’¹⁴

It was on debate on the same subject on another occasion that we get a glimpse of what Vaughan calls Peck’s ‘keen sense of humor’. In a General Assembly debate in 1868 a committee chaired by Peck put forward the recommendation that the use of a hat in taking up the collection in Sunday services should be discontinued. A minister from North Carolina expressed strong opposition to such a departure from custom and, holding up his own hat (a fine glossy beaver) demanded, ‘The people are accustomed to the use of the hat. It is endeared to them by familiarity and habit. What would you substitute in place of it?’ ‘I would remind our brother,’ Peck responded, ‘that it is not always such a hat as he held up to view that is carried around in raising a collection. Sometimes it is an old, greasy slouch.’¹⁵

Given such a stand-point it might be thought that Peck would have supported the popular practice of teaching that Christians should all tithe. But Scripture, he believed, did not support that conclusion, and his treatment in this volume of ‘The Moral Obligation of the Tithe’ is a good example of an important argument which is not readily to be found elsewhere. Another example of his ability to take up subjects not to be found in the works of his better-known colleagues has to do with revival. The whole Old-School of men to which he belonged believed in outpourings of the Spirit at special epochs in history. One such revival, affecting wide areas, had occurred in Hampden-Sydney itself in 1787. But too often the belief was assumed rather than clearly set out as Peck does on ‘Revivals of Religion’ in this volume.

Some parts of these volumes will be seen only as expressing the opinions of a past age and the denominational loyalties of the author. No doubt there are instances where that is true, yet part of the value of these volumes is the pervasive scriptural seriousness which forces the reader to question whether it is we who may be adrift from the truth. As an instructor Peck certainly wanted nothing more than to have his pupils bring all to the test of Scripture. No one left Union Seminary in his day without being impressed with the conviction that all success and popularity gained without the sanction of the word of Christ can ultimately only bring disaster.

Many of the subjects in these pages remain critically relevant to the church at the present time. They include such issues as those of worship, of church and state, of the moral law and of Roman Catholicism. Unlike too many of the professors of the present day, Peck does not write as an academic. He would have agreed entirely with the words of John Milne, a Scottish contemporary, who wrote, ‘The Church’s danger ever has been to substitute a ministry of the intellect for a ministry of the Spirit: to confide in the human instead of the superhuman.’¹⁶

Peck’s writings pass on to us the same message which Thornwell wrote to him as a young minister in 1848, ‘Have faith in God; aim singly at His glory.’ A little anecdote which Vaughan gives us suggests that Peck kept that aim before him. When the Civil War had convulsed the nation in calamities, a Virginian in another part of the state met someone from the neighbourhood of the seminary and asked for news. The reply he got was long remembered: ‘Well,’ answered the person from Hampden-Sydney, ‘Dr Dabney is fighting the Yankees, Dr Smith is hunting for provisions, and Dr Peck is trusting in God.’ Whether we agree with Peck in all things or not, a Christian can hardly rise from his writings without wishing for more of that same spirit, to be kept in the same steadfastness to the end.

IAIN H. MURRAY
3 Murrayfield Road
Edinburgh
October 1998

Buy the Writings of Thomas E. Peck

The post Why Publish Peck?: Our Introduction to His Writings appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

‘As they ministered to the Lord and fasted…’ — Acts 13:2

There is a real danger that a church becomes stagnant in self-satisfaction. The church at Antioch could have said, ‘We have good teachers, a good, orderly worship service and a church life that is pleasing to God.’ And it could simply have been satisfied with itself about this. The church could have said, ‘We do not need anything else. Now we just want to focus on maintaining and edifying ourselves in some way.’ With such an attitude one loses sight of the actual mandate that the Lord has given to the church, namely fulfilling the Great Commission.

This church at Antioch was not self-satisfied. It had a holy dissatisfaction, a holy hunger. We read that they ‘fasted.’ Fasting is an expression of a hunger for God, an expression of a desire that God would intervene, that He would act. The one who fasts says, ‘Oh God, we need You more than our daily bread! We need Your intervention, Your direction, Your wisdom, Your strength, Your guidance! It is absolutely necessary that You act. We want You to receive glory, Your kingdom to be built. Therefore do something, oh Lord, for the glory of Your name! Maybe send out laborers, also from our midst. Show us what we can do so that Your holy name would be glorified!’

Biblical mission arises from churches that are not self-satisfied and preoccupied only with themselves, but that have a holy desire that God would act for His glory. These churches earnestly long that God would use the church for the furtherance of His kingdom. The church members in Antioch could simply have been content with what they had. But no, they earnestly desired the Lord, they sought God. They did not merely seek blessing for themselves, rather we see here that this church apparently had a huge burden for God’s kingdom and for the lost. That is why they also fasted. And it is evident here that the Lord answered their prayer. He sent out men. This suggests that they perhaps prayed something like this: ‘Lord, we want You to show us how we can serve You, how we can further Your kingdom, how we can reach the lost! This concern is more important to us than eating and drinking. We plead with You to do something for the glory of Your name! You must act, Lord, and show us what we must do, how we must proceed! Please lead us!’

This raises the question what our attitude might be, what your attitude might be. Do you have this holy dissatisfaction, a longing that God would intervene, that He would do great things for the glory of His name, that He would save the lost? Do you have a concern, a burden for this? Do you have a hunger for God, more than for your daily bread?

The church of God must always maintain a burning passion for mission work. Charles Haddon Spurgeon once stated it this way: ‘if there be any one point in which the Christian church ought to keep its fervour at a white heat, it is concerning missions to the heathen. If there be anything about which we cannot tolerate lukewarmness, it is in the matter of sending the gospel to a dying world.’¹

Do you – does your church – have a holy, burning desire for God to intervene, to do something for His glory? Why does the Lord not use some churches in the same way as the church at Antioch? Why does such little blessing come from some churches, while in other cases, no mission work occurs at all? Could it be that the words of James are fulfilled in such churches: ‘you do not have because you do not ask’ (James 4:2)? Is this not at all a concern for you? Do you not have a hunger for this? Do you not wish at all that the Lord would be glorified, that His name would be worshipped from the rising of the sun to its setting, everywhere in the world? Churches that lack this heartfelt desire do not plead, do not fast and do not ask the Lord to send out labourers, as Christ taught us to pray in Luke 10:2: ‘Then He said to them, “The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are few; therefore pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.’ Surely this is a biblical command, given by Jesus Himself: to pray that He would send out labourers! The harvest is great, but the labourers are few!

The church at Antioch pleaded with fasting that the Lord would hear the cry of their heart. Those who are richly blessed with biblical teaching are in danger of becoming self-satisfied and simply wanting to preserve themselves. They are also in danger of taking all of their blessings for granted: going to church Sunday after Sunday and hearing a sound expository sermon, taking part in an orderly worship service that is pleasing to God, and experiencing a biblical, orderly church life. One might think, ‘This is really wonderful, that we have all of this. Let us thank God for this!’ But are there also tears about the sad reality that millions and millions of lost souls experience none of this?
The church at Antioch sought the face of the Lord, because mission work is based on prayer work. Missions is based on prayer and supplication and fasting. The Lord can do great things if we only serve Him and seek His face, which is exactly what the church at Antioch did. And the Lord answered their prayer.

Peter Schild is a pastor of the Evangelical Reformed Baptist Church of Frankfurt. Two more instalments of Peter’s booklet will appear here on the Banner of Truth website in the coming two weeks. 

Featured image (visible when article shared on social media) by Billy Williams on Unsplash

First German edition, 2022. Original German title: Gemeinde und Mission. Translated by Michael T. Schmid. All Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version®. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

The post Biblical Mission Arises from Biblical Longing and Supplication appeared first on Banner of Truth UK.

Anytime I’m interviewed about the history of Thanksgiving, the interviewers always seem to try to direct the conversation to popular myths about the “First Thanksgiving,” with the tiresome result that we end up mostly talking about what the Pilgrims had to eat.  For my part, I’d rather discuss the far more important misconceptions most of us have about the Pilgrims: we tend to misunderstand why they came to America in the first place, how they saw themselves, and how they understood the celebration that we–not they–labeled the “First Thanksgiving.”  Between now and Thursday I thought I would share some past posts that speak to those foundational questions.  I hope you enjoy.

In Search of Religious Freedom?

The belief that the Pilgrims came to America in search of religious freedom is inspiring, but in the sense that we usually mean it, it’s not really true. I’ve shared this reality numerous times since writing The First Thanksgiving: What the Real Story Tells Us about Loving God and Learning from History, and I almost always get pushback from the audience. That’s understandable, since most of us from our childhood have been raised to believe quite the opposite. But if we’re going to really learn from the Pilgrims’ story, we need to be willing to listen to them instead of putting words into their mouths.

One of my favorite all-time quotes is from Democracy in America where Alexis de Tocqueville observes, “A false but clear and precise idea always has more power in the world than one which is true but complex.” The Pilgrims’ motives for coming to America is a case in point.

The popular understanding that the Pilgrims came to America “in search of religious freedom” is technically true, but it is also misleading. It is technically true in that the freedom to worship according to the dictates of Scripture was at the very top of their list of priorities. They had already risked everything to escape religious persecution, and the majority never would have knowingly chosen a destination where they would once again wear the “yoke of antichristian bondage,” as they described their experience in England.

To say that the Pilgrims came “in search of” religious freedom is misleading, however, in that it implies that they lacked such liberty in Holland. Remember that the Pilgrims did not come to America directly from England. They had left England in 1608, locating briefly in Amsterdam before settling for more than a decade in Leiden. If a longing for religious freedom alone had compelled them, they might never have left that city. Years later, the Pilgrim’s governor, William Bradford, recalled that in Leiden God had allowed them “to come as near the primitive pattern of the first churches as any other church of these later times.” As Pilgrim Edward Winslow recalled, God had blessed them with “much peace and liberty” in Holland. They hoped to find “the like liberty” in their new home.

“Licentiousness” and “Hardness”

But that is not all that they hoped to find. Boiled down, the Pilgrims had two major complaints about their experience in Holland. First, they found it a hard place to raise their children. Dutch culture was too permissive, they believed. Bradford commented on “the great licentiousness of youth” in Holland and lamented the “evil examples” and “manifold temptations of the place.” Part of the problem was the Dutch parents. They gave their children too much freedom, Bradford’s nephew, Nathaniel Morton, explained, and Separatist parents could not give their own children “due correction without reproof or reproach from their neighbors.”

Compounding these challenges was what Bradford called “the hardness of the place.” If Holland was a hard place to raise strong families, it was an even harder place to make a living. Leiden was a crowded, rapidly growing city. Most houses were ridiculously small by our standards, some with no more than a couple hundred square feet of floor space. The typical weaver’s home was somewhat larger. It boasted three rooms—two on the main floor and one above—with a cistern under the main floor to collect rainwater, sometimes side by side with a pit for an indoor privy.

In contrast to the seasonal rhythms of farm life, the pace of work was long, intense, and unrelenting. Probably half or more of the Separatist families became textile workers. In this era before the industrial revolution, cloth production was still a decentralized, labor intensive process, with countless families carding, spinning, or weaving in their own homes from dawn to dusk, six days a week, merely to keep body and soul together. Hunger and want had become their taskmaster.

This life of “great labor and hard fare” was a threat to the church, Bradford repeatedly stressed. It discouraged Separatists in England from joining them, he believed, and tempted those in Leiden to return home. If religious freedom was to be thus linked with poverty, then there were some—too many—who would opt for the religious persecution of England over the religious freedom of Holland. And the challenge would only increase over time. Old age was creeping up on many of the congregation, indeed, was being hastened prematurely by “great and continual labor.” While the most resolute could endure such hardships in the prime of life, advancing age and declining strength would cause many either to “sink under their burdens” or reluctantly abandon the community in search of relief.

In explaining the Pilgrim’s decision to leave Holland, William Bradford stressed the Pilgrim’s economic circumstances more than any other factor, but it is important that we hear correctly what he was saying. Bradford was not telling us that the Pilgrims left for America in search of the “American Dream” or primarily to maximize their own individual well being.

In Bradford’s telling, it is impossible to separate the Pilgrims’ concerns about either the effects of Dutch culture or their economic circumstances from their concerns for the survival of their church. The leaders of the Leiden congregation may not have feared religious persecution, but they saw spiritual danger and decline on the horizon.

The solution, the Pilgrim leaders believed, was to “take away these discouragements” by relocating to a place with greater economic opportunity as part of a cooperative mission to preserve their covenant community. If the congregation did not collectively “dislodge . . . to some place of better advantage,” and soon, the church seemed destined to erode like the banks of a stream, as one by one, families and individuals slipped away.

So where does this leave us? Were the Pilgrims coming to America to flee religious persecution? Not at all. Were they motivated by a religious impulse? Absolutely. But why is it important to make these seemingly fine distinctions? Is this just another exercise in academic hair-splitting? I don’t think so. In fact, I think that the implications of getting the Pilgrims’ motives right are huge.

Scorching Sun or Strangling Thorns?

As I re-read the Pilgrims’ words, I find myself meditating on Jesus’ parable of the sower. You remember how the sower casts his seed (the word of God), and it falls on multiple kinds of ground, not all of which prove fruitful. The seed that lands on stony ground sprouts immediately but the plant withers under the heat of the noonday sun, while the seed cast among thorns springs up and then is choked by the surrounding weeds. The former, Jesus explained to His disciples, represents those who receive the word gladly, but stumble “when tribulation or persecution arises for the word’s sake” (Mark 4:17). The latter stands for those who allow the word to be choked by “the cares of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things” (Mark 4:19).

In emphasizing the Pilgrims’ “search for religious freedom,” we inadvertently make the primary menace in their story the heat of persecution. Persecution led them to leave England for Holland, but it was not the primary reason that they came to America. As the Pilgrim writers saw it, the principal threat to their congregation in Holland was not the scorching sun, but strangling thorns.

The difference matters, particularly if we’re approaching the Pilgrims’ moment in history as an opportunity to learn from them. It broadens the kind of conversation we have with them and makes it more relevant. When we hear of the Pilgrims’ resolve in the face of persecution, we may nod our heads admiringly and meditate on the courage of their convictions. Perhaps we will even ask ourselves how we would respond if, God forbid, we were to endure the same trial. And yet the danger seems so remote, the question so comfortably hypothetical. Whatever limitations we may chafe against in the public square, as Christians in the United States we don’t have to worry that the government will send us to prison unless we worship in the church that it chooses and interpret the Bible in the manner that it dictates.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting that we never ask the question. Posing it can remind us to be grateful for the freedom we enjoy. It may inspire us to greater vigilance in preserving that freedom and heighten our concern for Christians around the world who cannot take such freedom for granted. These are good things. But I am suggesting that we not dwell overlong on the question. I’m dubious of the value of moral reflection that focuses on hypothetical circumstances. Avowals of how we would respond to imaginary adversity are worth pretty much what they cost us. Character isn’t forged in the abstract, but in the concrete crucible of everyday life, in the myriad mundane decisions that both shape and reveal the heart’s deepest loves.

Here the Pilgrims’ struggle with “thorns” speaks to us. Compared to the dangers they faced in England, their hardships in Holland were so . . . ordinary. I don’t mean to minimize them, but merely to point out that they are difficulties we are more likely to relate to. They worried about their children’s future. They feared the effects of a corrupt and permissive culture. They had a hard time making ends meet. They wondered how they would provide for themselves in old age. Does any of this sound familiar?

And in contrast to their success in escaping persecution, they found the cares of the world much more difficult to evade. As it turned out, thorn bushes grew in the New World as well as the Old. In little more than a decade, William Bradford was concerned that economic circumstances were again weakening the fabric of the church. This time, ironically, the culprit was not the pressure of want but the prospect of wealth (“the deceitfulness of riches”?) as faithful members of the congregation left Plymouth in search of larger, more productive farms. A decade after that, Bradford was decrying the presence of gross immorality within the colony. Drunkenness and sexual sin had become so common, he lamented, that it caused him “to fear and tremble at the consideration of our corrupt natures.”

When we insist that the Pilgrims came to America “in search of religious freedom,” we tell their story in a way that they themselves wouldn’t recognize. In the process, we make their story primarily a source of ammunition for the culture wars. Frustrated by increasing governmental infringement on religious expression, we remind the unbelieving culture around us that “our forefathers” who “founded” this country were driven above all by a commitment to religious liberty.

But while we’re bludgeoning secularists with the Pilgrim story, we ignore the aspects of their story that might cast a light into our own hearts. They struggled with fundamental questions still relevant to us today: What is the true cost of discipleship? What must we sacrifice in pursuit of the kingdom? How can we “shine as lights in the world” (Philippians 2:15) and keep ourselves “unspotted from the world” (James 1:27)? What sort of obligation do we owe our local churches, and how do we balance that duty with family commitments and individual desires? What does it look like to “seek first the kingdom of God” and can we really trust God to provide for all our other needs?

As Christians, these are crucial questions we need to revisit regularly. We might even consider discussing them with our families as part of our Thanksgiving celebrations.

About the author: Dr. Robert Tracy McKenzie is Professor of History and Arthur F. Holmes Chair of Faith and Learning at Wheaton College, Illinois. His most recent book is We the Fallen People: The Founders and the Future of Democracy and readers who have enjoyed this article may be interested to read more in his 2013 book The First Thanksgiving: What the Real Story Tells Us About Loving God and Learning from History.

Each of the paintings featured in this post are believed to be in the public domain. If you have reason to believe that this is not the case, please contact us.

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“It was delightful to hear the Rev. J. Angell James thus expressing himself.-‘How sweet is that word, “The crown rights of Christ!”‘”

“The crown rights of Christ!” how sweet is the phrase
What Joy to the heart can this, lofty theme bring!
‘Tis the bond to unite, in these perilous days;
‘Tis the word to inscribe on the banner we raise,—
“The crown rights of Christ” our Redeemer and King

He is Head of his Church,—of nations the Head;
His declarative glory in each richly stor’d:
To reign over both, He suffered, He bled!
And now his own people by duty are led,
“The crown rights of Christ” to defend for their Lord.

In Church and In State Christ’s sceptre shall sway;
A glad double message the angel-host sing,—
‘Tis “Glory to God,” In that Church-loyal day.
Good-will reigns on earth, when all men obey
“The crown rights of Christ” their Redeemer and King!

He is Lord of the earth,—of conscience the Lord,
While at his lov’d “name each creature shall bow;”
And one with the Father, as Scriptures record,
His saints joyful rest on that long-promis’d word:
“The crown rights of Christ” men yet shall allow.

The times are portentous, the battle seems nigh;
They bid us unite in harmonious accord:
May God give us grace, when we hear the war-cry.
To be faithful to Him, our great Captain on high;
And when He hath conquered, to share in the sky
“All the crown rights of Christ” our Redeemer and Lord!

Featured Photo (visible when post shared on social media) by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash. 

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‘Now in the church that was at Antioch there were certain prophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon who was called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen who had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch, and Saul. As they ministered to the Lord and fasted, the Holy Spirit said, “Now separate to Me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” Then, having fasted and prayed, and laid hands on them, they sent them away.’ — Acts 13:1–3

This Bible passage briefly summarizes four basic principles for biblical mission work that will be considered in this book.

Principle 1: Biblical Mission is Grounded in Biblical Churches

Let me state it plainly: Mission is a matter of the church. The church is the sole breeding ground and the true foundation for biblical missions.

We read nothing about mission agencies in Scripture. This does not mean that there should be no mission agencies in principle. They can, by all means, be a help and support for churches in fulfilling their missionary mandate. However, from a biblical perspective, it is the church of Jesus Christ that has the sole responsibility to fulfil the Great Commission. Mission agencies cannot take over this responsibility on behalf of the church.

A Young Church

The Bible passage under consideration shows us a biblical church: the church at Antioch. In verse 1 we read, ‘Now in the church that was at Antioch …’ What is remarkable is that this church at Antioch was a very young church – it was only a few years old. This church was really still in its infancy, but its feet were already ‘shod … with the preparation [to testify] of the gospel of peace’ (Eph. 6:15).

It was this young church at Antioch that initiated the first official missionary journey. A considerable time earlier, Jesus Christ had already given His famous Great Commission, which we find in Matthew 28:19-20: ‘Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you.’ The church at Jerusalem, however, struggled to take the gospel beyond the immediate surroundings of their city. There first had to be a persecution before the Christians went out to other regions.

Here in Acts 13, in the city of Antioch, we read for the first time in the Holy Scriptures about missionaries being officially sent out from the church to make disciples in the Roman Empire and to plant churches. This is a historic moment. And how did it begin? With a church. Mission is a matter of the church. World missions originated here in a church that was still very young. This means that a church does not have to be old or large in size. What matters is that it is a biblical church. One of the main characteristics of a biblical church is biblical teaching and service to the Lord. This is what characterized the church at Antioch. It faithfully proclaimed the name of the Lord.

Blessed with God’s Voice

Consider how richly blessed this young church was with Bible teachers. Verse 1 says, ‘Now in the church that was at Antioch there were certain prophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon who was called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen who had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch, and Saul.’ So the church had prophets and teachers. Prophets were men who had God’s word directly placed in their mouth, who spoke God’s word in a way that is no longer available for us today. And teachers were men who proclaimed and explained God’s written Word. These men simply passed on what God told them – not their own thoughts and ideas. This church faithfully proclaimed God’s Word. And it was blessed with five such men. It is a blessing to have just one such man who really proclaims God’s Word, but they even had five of them. What a gift! What a reason to thank God! This cannot be taken for granted. Such men still exist today, but they have become very rare – men who preach God’s Word faithfully, boldly and plainly. They do not proclaim their own ideas, but are simply a mouthpiece of God.

What a great need we have for such men in our country today! How many people lament the fact that they cannot find such a preacher or a church where God’s Word is faithfully preached, where it is said, ‘Thus says the Lord!’

What a blessing to have not just one, but five such men! Here is a church that is nourished, led, convicted, corrected, encouraged, edified, comforted and strengthened only by the Word of God! What a blessing! Having men who faithfully proclaim God’s Word is one of the main indicators that a church is blessed. There are many apostate churches that amass false teachers for themselves, countless false teachers. God’s Word tells us in 2 Timothy 4:3, ‘For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, because they have itching ears, they will heap up for themselves teachers…’ The reason they amass such teachers for themselves is that their words tickle their ears, ‘and they will turn their ears away from the truth, and be turned aside to fables’ (v. 4). They procured false teachers for themselves who tell stories instead of proclaiming God’s Word. What a blessing it is therefore if God gives us truthful preachers – those of whom we read in Jeremiah 3:15, where the Lord says: ‘And I will give you shepherds according to My heart, who will feed you with knowledge and understanding.’ What a blessing! If the church had only one such preacher who proclaims God’s Word in truth, it would have had sufficient reason to kneel down in prayer daily and thank God for this gift! The church at Antioch was richly blessed: it had five such preachers.

Blessed with Unity

And this is not the only blessing that this church had. It is also a blessing that these men formed one unit and did not argue among themselves over theological matters, which could easily have been the case. Consider how different these men were: Barnabas, a Levite, a Jew; Simeon, called Niger, a dark-skinned African; Lucius of Cyrene – most likely a Roman name belonging to a man with Roman background, probably from North Africa. And then there was Manaen, who had grown up together with Herod, probably a very wealthy man coming from high society, a man of rank and power. And Saul was also a part of this group, a devout Jew and a Pharisee, someone who used to persecute the churches, but who was now called as an apostle – and yet he is mentioned last in this list. They all come from very different places and have different backgrounds. It would therefore have been very easy for them to become involved in theological disputes or arguments about their rank, who was first among them. But there was a unity in faith, in doctrine and in confession. This is the blessing of God.

This blessing of unity among the brethren is the theme of Psalm 133. There we read, ‘For there’, regarding this unity among the brethren, ‘the Lord commanded the blessing— Life forevermore.’ This is the basis for true biblical missions, that a church faithfully teaches God’s Word and is one in its doctrine and its leadership. This is the breeding ground for everything else.

Ministering to God

A biblical church not only teaches biblically, it also ministers biblically, as we see in Acts 13:2: ‘As they ministered to the Lord …’ They served the Lord. The Greek word that is translated here as ‘ministered’ is a special word [leiturgeo] that has to do with public worship. It is about serving in the context of worship, as a priest would have done in the old covenant when performing his duties in the temple. These men served in worship, in leading biblical church services, so that the church members were guided to worship God in spirit and in truth and glorify Him alone. These men not only taught correctly, but also instructed all to serve correctly and give God the glory in all areas of life and worship. In other words: As leaders, they truly instructed the church to worship together in a biblical way – a pure worship service that truly glorifies the Lord. And they instructed the church members to serve Him completely also as a church in all areas. Right teaching must lead to true worship where God is glorified in a way that is pleasing to Him.

How sad it is to see that churches all over our country no longer teach rightly, and that they therefore no longer conduct worship in a right way, that their church service is basically nothing more than a smorgasbord of human ideas. They no longer serve to worship God, but rather they serve their own entertainment. How greatly things have changed over the years!

A biblical church is a church that faithfully proclaims God’s Word with a unity of sentiment, but also serves God with pure and holy worship, in the context of a church life that is characterized by serving God and giving the glory to Him alone in all areas. Why? Verse 2 tells us why: ‘As they ministered to the Lord…’ Why should one do this with all faithfulness? Because the church does not belong to us, but to the Lord.

A biblical church is characterized by faithfully serving the Lord. The church at Antioch was a church that completely submitted to Christ. It did not serve itself, but rather served the Lord. It is not about our ideas and conceptions and desires. It is solely about doing the will of the Lord and giving Him the glory that He is due. Such churches where the truth is taught and God is faithfully served in a way that pleases Him will be blessed. And this is the basis for biblical mission: a healthy, biblical church that proclaims God and serves Him faithfully. This is the breeding ground for missions. Therefore, before a church even begins to think about doing mission work and planting churches in certain places, it should first learn to be a biblical church itself. Otherwise everything else that it produces will be null and void. Therefore, we have to begin with ourselves. We must allow ourselves to be reformed. We must become more biblical in all areas. Now when this is the case, when a church lives in such a way, then something grows out from this. And this leads us to the second principle of mission…

Peter Schild is a pastor of the Evangelical Reformed Baptist Church of Frankfurt. Three more instalments of Peter’s booklet will appear here on the Banner of Truth website in the coming two weeks. 

Featured image (visible when article shared on social media) by Eilis Garvey on Unsplash

First German edition, 2022. Original German title: Gemeinde und Mission. Translated by Michael T. Schmid. All Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version®. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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This violence concerns men as Christians. Though heaven be given us freely, yet we must contend for it. ‘What thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might’ (Eccles. 9:10). Our work is great, our time short, our master urgent; we have need therefore to summon together all the powers of our souls, and strive as in a matter of life and death, that we may arrive at the kingdom above: we must not only put forth diligence, but violence. For the illustrating and clearing the proposition, I shall show,

1. What violence is not meant here:

This violence in the text excludes:

(1) An ignorant violence; to be violent for that which we do not understand. ‘As I passed by and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription, to the unknown God’ (Acts 17:23). These Athenians were violent in their devotion; but it might be said to them, as Christ said to the woman of Samaria, ‘Ye worship ye know not what’ (John 4:22). Thus the Catholics are violent in their religion: witness their penance, fasting, dilacerating themselves till the blood comes, but it is a zeal without knowledge: their mettle is better than their eyesight. When Aaron was to burn the incense upon the altar, he was first to light the lamps (Exod. 25:7). When zeal like incense burns, first the lamp of knowledge must be lighted.

(2) It excludes a bloody violence, which is twofold:

First, when one goes to lay violent hands upon himself. The body is an earthly prison where God hath put the soul; we must not break prison, but stay till God by death lets us out. The sentinel is not to stir without leave from his captain, nor must we dare to stir hence without God’s leave. Our bodies are the temples of the Holy Ghost (1 Cor. 6:19); when we offer violence to them, we destroy God’s temple. The lamp of life must burn so long as any natural moisture is left like oil to feed it.

Secondly, when one takes away the life of another. There’s too much of this violence nowadays. No sin hath a louder voice than blood: ‘The voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground’ (Gen. 4:10). If there is a curse for him that ‘smites his neighbour secretly’ (Deut. 27:24), then he is double cursed that kills him. If a man had slain another unawares, he might take sanctuary and fly to the altar. But if he had done it willingly, the holiness of the place was not to protect him. ‘If a man come presumptuously upon his neighbour to slay him with guile, thou shalt take him from mine altar that he may die’ (Exod. 21:14). Joab being a man of blood, King Solomon sought to slay him, though he caught hold of the horns of the altar (1 Kings 2:28, 29). In Bohemia formerly, the murderer was to be beheaded and put in the same coffin with him whom he killed. Thus we see what violence the text excludes.

2. What violence is meant here;

It is a holy violence. This is twofold.

(1) We must be violent for the truth. Here Pilate’s question will be moved, ‘What is truth?’ Truth is either the blessed word of God, which is called the ‘word of truth,’ or those doctrinals which are deduced from the word and agree with it, as the dial with the sun or the transcript with the original – such as the doctrine of the Trinity, the doctrine of the creation, the doctrine of free grace, justification by the blood of Christ, regeneration, resurrection of the dead, and the life of glory. These truths we must be violent for, which is either by being advocates for them or martyrs.

Truth is the most glorious thing; the least filing of this gold is precious. What shall we be violent for, if not for truth? Truth is ancient, its grey hairs may make it venerable. It comes from him who is the Ancient of Days. Truth is unerring, it is the star which leads to Christ. Truth is pure (Psa. 119:140), it is compared to ‘silver refined seven times’ (Psa. 12:6). There is not the least spot on truth’s face; it breathes nothing but sanctity. Truth is triumphant: it is like a great conqueror; when all its enemies lie dead, it keeps the field, and sets up its trophies of victory. Truth may be opposed, but never quite deposed. In the time of Diocletian, things seemed desperate, truth ran low; soon after was the golden time of Constantine, and then truth did again lift up its head. When the water in the Thames is lowest, a high tide is ready to come in. God is on truth’s side, and so long there is no fear but it will prevail. ‘The heavens being on fire shall be dissolved,’ but not that truth which came from heaven (2 Pet. 3:12; 1 Pet. 1:25).

Truth hath noble effects. Truth is the seed of the new birth. God doth not regenerate us by miracles, or revelations, but by ‘the word of truth’ (James 1:18). As truth is the breeder of grace, so the feeder of it (1 Tim. 4:6). Truth sanctifies: ‘Sanctify them by thy truth’ (John 17:17). Truth is the seal that leaves the print of its own holiness upon us. It is both speculum and lavacrum, a glass [mirror] to show us our blemishes, and a laver to wash them away. Truth ‘makes us free’ (John 8:32): it bears off the fetters of sin, and puts us into a state of sonship and ‘kingship’ (Rom. 8:14; Rev. 1:6). Truth is comforting: this wine cheers. When David’s harp and viol could yield him no comfort, truth did: ‘This is my comfort in my affliction, for thy word hath quickened me’ (Psa. 119:50).

Truth is an antidote against error. Error is the adultery of the mind: it stains the soul, as treason doth the blood. Error damns as well as vice. A man may as well die by poison as pistol. And what can stave off error but truth? The reason so many have been trappaned¹ into error is because they either did not know or did not love the truth. I can never say enough in the honour of truth. Truth is basis fidei, the ground of our faith; it gives us an exact model of religion; it shows us what we are to believe. Take away truth and our faith is fancy. Truth is the best flower in the church’s crown. We have not a richer jewel to trust God with than our souls, nor he a richer jewel to trust us with than his truths. Truth is insigne honoris, an ensign of honour. It distinguishes us from the false church, as chastity distinguisheth a virtuous woman from a harlot. In short, truth is ecclesiae praesidium, the bulwark of a nation: it is said the Levites (who were the antesignani, the ensign-bearers of truth) strengthened the kingdom (2 Chron. 11:17). Truth may be compared to the capitol of Rome, which was a place of the greatest strength; or the Tower of David, on which there hung a thousand shields (Song of Sol. 4:4). Our forts and navies do not so much strengthen us as truth. Truth is the best militia of a kingdom. If once we part with truth, and espouse popery, the lock is cut where our strength lies. What then should we be violent for, if not for truth? We are bid to contend as in an agony ‘for the faith delivered to the saints’ (Jude 3). If truth once be gone, we may write this epitaph on England’s tombstone: ‘Thy glory is departed.’

(2) This holy violence is when we are violent for our own salvation. ‘Give all diligence to make your calling and election sure’ (2 Pet. 1:10). The Greek word signifies anxious carefulness, or a serious bearing one’s thoughts about the business of eternity; such a care as sets head and heart at work. In this channel of religion all a Christian’s zeal should run.

3. The third thing is, what is implied in this holy violence?

It implies three things: (1) Resolution of will; (2) Vigour of affection; (3) Strength of endeavour.

(1) Resolution of the will. ‘I have sworn and will perform it, that I will keep thy righteous judgments’ (Psa. 119:106). Whatever is in the way to heaven (though there be a lion in the way), I will encounter it. Like a resolute commander that chargeth through the whole body of the army. The Christian is resolved, come what may, he will have heaven. Where there is this resolution, danger must be despised, difficulties trampled upon, terrors contemned. This is the first thing in holy violence, resolution of will – I will have heaven whatever it costs me – and this resolution must be in the strength of Christ.

Resolution is like the bias to the bowl, which carries it strongly. Where there is but half a resolution, a will to be saved and a will to follow sin, it is impossible to be violent for heaven. If a traveller be unresolved, sometimes he will ride this way, sometimes that; he is violent for neither.

(2) Vigour of the affections. The will proceeds upon reason: the judgment being informed of the excellency of a state of glory, and the will being resolved upon a voyage to that holy land, now the affections follow, and they are on fire in passionate longings after heaven. The affections are violent things: ‘My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God’ (Psa. 42:2). The Rabbis note here that David saith not, My soul ‘hungereth,’ but ‘thirsteth,’ because naturally we are more impatient of thirst than hunger. See in what a rapid violent motion David’s affections were carried after God. The affections are like the wings of the bird, which make the soul swift in its flight after glory. Where the affections are stirred up, there is offering violence to heaven.

(3) This violence implies strength of endeavour, when we strive for salvation as about a matter of life and death. It is easy to talk of heaven, but not to get to heaven; we must operam navare, put forth all our strength; nay, call in the help of heaven to this work.

4. The fourth thing is, how many ways a Christian must offer violence?

Four ways: he must offer violence:

I. To Himself;
II. To Satan;
III. To the World;
IV. To Heaven.

This is a taster of Thomas Watson’s exposition in our new Puritan Paperback, Heaven Taken by Storm, or, The Christian Soldier. 

Buy a copy:

Featured image (visible when post shared on social media) is ‘Joshua Commanding the Sun to Stand Still’ by John Martin (1789–1854). Credit: Yale Centre for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection.

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A horticultural kind of growth

Owen well understood that the Christian life is not marked by even, unhindered, mechanical progress. Rather, growth is ‘horticultural’, uneven, irregular and inconsistent. The reason for this is not difficult to understand: the life of faith is not immune from the disappointments and heartaches of what Paul calls ‘the sufferings of this present age’ (Rom. 8:18). God does not exempt his children from unexpected, sorely-wounding providences. In 2 Cor. 1:8, Paul tells us that the hardships and pressures he and his friends were experiencing were so severe, that ‘we despaired even of life’! Even in the model life of faith, we find our Lord Jesus Christ experiencing disappointment, opposition, hardships, and bereavement. Nowhere does God imply that his believing children will be cocooned from the struggles, disappointments, and perplexities of living in a fallen world. On the contrary, in addition to this the Lord tells us that ‘everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted’ (2 Tim. 3:12). Without this spiritual realism, our lives will become the prisoners of circumstance, rising and falling depending on the kind of circumstances that touch our lives.

More than spiritual realism

But the Lord has given us infinitely more than the grace of spiritual realism in order that we might cope with the heartaches, disappointments, and mysteries that inevitably touch our lives. First of all, he promises us his unfailing presence in all our times of need: ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you’ (Heb. 13:5). More than that, he promises to be the indwelling Helper of his children. In the upper room, as he faced the cross, the Lord Jesus assured his disciples, ‘I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you’ (John 14:18). He was speaking of his coming in his Spirit to be their abiding indwelling Sanctifier and Friend. Whatever difficulties and disappointments you face, however sore God’s unexpected providences, of this you can be sure, you are never alone! All the resources of the Godhead are for you and in you! Believe this!

Our sovereign Lord

More than this, God assures us that not one unexpected providence that touches his children’s lives is fortuitous. Our God is the one ‘who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will’ (Eph. 1:11). Here we come face to face with God’s unconditional sovereignty. But this truth is revealed in Scripture not as a puzzle to unravel, but as a comfort to embrace! Who is this God who is unconditionally sovereign over all things? He is the God who ‘spared not his own Son, but gave him up for us all’ (Rom. 8:32). He is ‘the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort’ (2 Cor. 1:3). It is our loving heavenly Father who does whatsoever he pleases. Who God is to us in Christ is our assurance that ‘our Father’s hand will never cause his child a needless tear’. Believe this. By faith draw out the comfort of being a dearly loved and precious child of a sovereign and loving Father.

‘These inward trials I employ’

There is another strand of encouragement that God gives to us in his word. In 2 Corinthians 1, where Paul recounts the great pressures that were causing him to despair even of life, he tells us that ‘this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead’. God was pleased to bring his servant into such straitened circumstances in order to strengthen his trust and confirm his obedience. Samuel Rutherford made the same point: ‘Faith is the better for the free air and the sharp winter storm in its face. Grace withereth without adversity.’ God always has our eternal as well as our present good in mind in his relations with us. John Newton’s celebrated hymn, ‘These Inward Trials’, captures the grace of God’s dealings with his hard-pressed children. Having asked the Lord for growth in ‘faith and love and every grace’, the child of God finds his life assaulted on all sides by unexpected and sore providences. In response to the Christian’s perplexity at what has happened, the Lord replies:

These inward trials I employ,
From self and pride to set thee free,
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou mayest seek thy all in me.

The Lord always and ever has our best before him. He is ‘the gardener’ who lovingly prunes the branches united to his Son so that they will bear ‘even more fruit’ (see John 15:1-2).

Until we go to be with the Lord, we will find unexpected, and sore, providences touching our lives. It cannot be otherwise, for the servant is not greater than the Master! But, though we might well be hard pressed on every side, we are never crushed. Though we might well be perplexed, we are never in despair. Even if we are persecuted, we are never abandoned (see 2 Cor. 4:8-9). God will not exempt you from the tears or the pains; but he will be with you, and in you, every step of the way, bringing the infinite resources of the Godhead graciously to sustain you and make you ‘more than a conqueror’. He who promised is faithful.

This article first appearead in the January 2015 issue of the Banner of Truth Magazine, no. 616.

Ian Hamilton is former trustee of the Banner of Truth and an associate minister at Smithton Church in Inverness. 

Featured Photo (visible when article shared on social media) by Sandie Clarke on Unsplash.

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Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of Truth (2 Tim. 2:15).

Must the servant of God yield the truth to any one who chooses to impugn it, or is he at liberty to make a compromise with error for the sake of peace? I answer, by no means. He is bound to contend for the faith once delivered to the saints, and to hold fast the form of sound words which he has received. Controversy will be necessary so long as error exists, but two things are strictly forbidden: first, unprofitable contention, the tendency of which is ‘to subvert the hearers’, and secondly, angry contention for ‘the servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle to all men’. No man has a right to compromise a single truth, for this is the sacred deposit which he, in common with other ministers, holds for the edification of the church; and which they are bound to commit to other faithful men, to be transmitted to those who may come after them.

It is not our duty to enter into controversy with all those who may differ from us in matters not fundamental. ‘Him that is weak in the faith receive ye, but not to doubtful disputations’. ‘For one believeth that he may eat all things; another, who is weak, eateth herbs. Let not him that eateth despise him that eateth not; and let not him that eateth not judge him that eateth, for God hath received him. Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind’. In all such cases, if God’s glory be the end, the person will be accepted, although he may be in trivial error.

In our text, Timothy is exhorted ‘to approve himself to God as a workman’; this term carries with it the idea of skill in his calling. He cannot with propriety be called a workman who undertakes a business which he knows not how to execute. At any rate, the ‘workman who needeth not to be ashamed’, must be skilled in what relates to his profession. Two sorts of men should, therefore, be excluded from the gospel ministry: first, those who will not work; secondly, those who know not how to perform their work aright. Any man who fails in either of these particulars, will bring shame upon himself. It appears to be implied that peculiar wisdom is requisite in discharging the duties of this office, for it is added, ‘rightly dividing the word of truth’. Accurate discrimination is here evidently required. Not every ignorant declaimer is capable of doing this. He who would ‘rightly divide the word of truth’ must, unless he be inspired, diligently and for a long time study the Bible. He should study it with all the aids which can be obtained, human and divine. The body cannot be dissected by one who has never studied anatomy, and it would be reckoned great presumption in an ignorant person to undertake to perform the most difficult surgical operation.

But does it not argue greater presumption, for ignorant men to thrust themselves into the office of holy ministry? Is it true that this is a work which can be performed without learning? Or that little danger is to be apprehended from the mistakes into which unskilful workmen may fall? We shall be better able to answer these questions when we have considered what is requisite in ‘rightly dividing the word of truth’ which is the single object which it is proposed to keep in view in the remainder of this discourse.

Truth is of various kinds – physical, mathematical, moral, etc.; but here one particular kind of truth is referred to, called the word of truth – that is, the truth of God’s Word – the truth of divine revelation – theological truth. The Bible was not given to teach men philosophy, or the arts which have respect to this life; its object is to teach the true knowledge of God, and the true and only method of salvation.

I proceed to make some observations on the important duty of ‘rightly dividing the word of truth’.

First, the truths of God’s word must be carefully distinguished from error

Light and darkness are not more opposite than truth and error. In some cases, error comes forth into the open light of day, in its native deformity, avowing its hostility to the Word of God, and professing it as its object to subvert the Holy Scriptures.

But sometimes error assumes the garb, and uses the language of truth. Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light; no marvel, therefore, that error and falsehood should wear a disguise fitted to deceive the unwary, and, if it were possible, the very elect. In all ages of the world, false teachers have existed, and often abounded. False apostles, false prophets, deceitful workers, have ever been the pests of the Church of God, under every dispensation.

And the earth is still inundated with floods of error. By a clear exhibition of gospel truth, on all the important points of religion, the people should be so instructed and so imbued with the truth, that error shall make no impression on them. Error is a creeping pestilence; no error can promote holiness. The connection between truth and holiness is most intimate and indissoluble.

Second, it is necessary to divide the truth not only from error, but from philosophy and mere human opinions and speculations.

But it is necessary to divide the truth not only from error, but from philosophy and mere human opinions and speculations. Many who do not reject the truth, yet so cover her with robes of their own weaving, that she cannot be seen in her lovely simplicity. They are forever connecting with the doctrines of God’s Word, their own wire-drawn and uncertain speculations. We have too much metaphysical reasoning in our theology. The truth of God is not illustrated by such methods; it is rather obscured and adulterated. Thus, it often happens, that a sermon contains very little Scripture truth. After the text is uttered, the preacher has done with the Bible and the hearers are fed, or rather starved, by some abstruse discussion of a subject, not treated on in the Word of God; or which is there taken for granted as a thing which requires no discussion, or which is above the human intellect. The spiritual workman must take pains to separate the Word of God from all admixture of mere human philosophy and metaphysical speculation. It is the ‘sincere milk of the Word’ after which the new-born child of grace thirsts, and by which he grows.

Third, the skilful workman must be able to distinguish between fundamental truths, and such as are not fundamental.

All Bible truth is important, and no part to be rejected or neglected. But some truths must be known and believed, or the person cannot be saved; while there are other truths which true Christians may be ignorant of, and while ignorant may deny. There are two grand marks of fundamental doctrine: (i) That the denial of them destroys the system; (ii) That the knowledge of them is essential to piety. All truth is essential to the perfection of the system; fundamental truths, to its existence.

Fourth, rightly to divide the word of truth, we must arrange it in such order as that it may be most easily and effectually understood.

In every system some things stand in the place of principles, on which the rest are built. He who would be a skilful workman in God’s building, must take much pains with the foundation; but he must not dwell forever on the first principles of the doctrine of Christ, but should endeavour to lead his people on to perfection in the knowledge of the truth.

Fifth, a good workman will so divide the word of truth, as clearly to distinguish between the law and the gospel; between the covenant of works and the covenant of grace.

No mistakes in religion have been more frequent or more fatal, than those which relate to the terms of a sinner’s acceptance with God, or the true method of justification. These mistakes are the more to be dreaded because they seem to have the sanction of reason, which dictates that a just God will treat men according to their works. Upon a superficial view, it would seem as if the doctrine of grace, or justification by faith alone, was unfriendly to holiness. More than one-half of the Christian world, therefore, are misled by error, more or less dangerous, on this point of vital importance. Let the law be faithfully proclaimed, as binding on every creature, and as cursing every impenitent sinner; and let the utter inability of man to satisfy its demands be clearly set forth, not as an excuse, but as a fault; and then let the riches of grace in Christ Jesus be fully exhibited and freely offered, and let all – however great their guilt – be urged to accept of unmerited pardon, and complete salvation.

Sixth, the promises and threats contained in the Scriptures must be clearly applied to the people to whom they properly apply.

Another thing very necessary to a correct division of the word of truth, is that the promises and threatenings contained in the Scriptures be applied to the characters to which they properly belong. How often do we hear a preacher expatiating on [speaking at length about] the rich consolations of the exceeding great and precious promises of God, when no mortal can tell, from anything which he says, to whom they are applicable. In much of preaching, there is a vague and indiscriminate application of the special promises of the covenant of grace, as though all who heard them were true Christians, and had a claim to the comfort which they offer. This is not a skilful division of the word of truth.

In the best days of the Reformed churches, such discriminating delineation of character, by the light of Scripture, formed an important part of almost every sermon. How do Owen, Flavel, Boston and Erskine abound in marks of distinction between the true and false professor! And the most distinguished preachers of our own country – the Mathers, Shephards, Stoddards, Edwardses, as also the Blairs, Tennents, Davies and Dickinsons, were wise in so dividing the word of truth, that all might receive their portion in due season. But certainly the word of truth should be so handled, that every person who does not turn away his eyes may see the lineaments of his true character, reflected from the word, as the image from the glass.

Seventh, and finally, the word of God should be so handled, that it may be adapted to Christians in different states and stages of the divine life. 

For while some Christians are like ‘strong men’, others are but ‘babes in Christ, who must be fed with milk and not with strong meat’. Christ taught his disciples as they were able to bear it, and reserved many things which he wished to say, to the time when they were capable of understanding his meaning. The same course was pursued by Paul. We are bound, indeed, ‘to declare the whole counsel of God’, but in due order, at proper times, and with a wise reference to the strength and spiritual attainments of our hearers. Ministers, who are accustomed to teach others, ought to be willing to teach themselves also. They who have the skill and fidelity to apply the truth to the consciences of their hearers, should also be faithful to their own souls in detecting and censuring their own failures in time past, and should to the last day of their ministry endeavour to improve in every pastoral qualification, and in fidelity and skill in dividing the word of truth. I would conclude by remarking that my own ministry in the Word is coming fast to a close;¹ and one of my greatest consolations is to see younger ministers raised up by the Great Head of the Church, to fill the places of us who must soon leave the stage. I consider the preaching of the gospel to be the most honourable and important work in the world.

By, About, and Related to Archibald Alexander:

Featured image (visible when article shared online): Princeton Theological Seminary in the 1800s (Public Domain).

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‘It is ironic that of all the people one might expect to hold a low view of God because of their circumstances, the African slave actually held the highest view. Despite all the suffering and oppression of slavery, slaves maintained a view of God that emphasized his sovereignty and his goodness. They were committed to the biblical revelation that exalted God in all his perfections.’—Thabiti Anyabwile¹

During the Great Awakening in America, ‘All across the British Atlantic world, African slaves were converting to Christianity in large numbers through the new Evangelical movements.’² Gilbert Tennent, speaking of a preaching tour in the winter of 1740-41, when he was in Charlestown, wrote, ‘Multitudes were awakened, and several had received great consolation; especially among the young people, children and negroes.’³ In similar terms, William Tennent wrote to one of his correspondents, Thomas Prince. Speaking of his ministry in Freehold, New Jersey, October 11, 1744, he recorded, ‘Some negroes, I trust, are made free in Christ, and more seem to be unfeignedly seeking after it’ (p. 231). Samuel Davies, later to become the President of the College of New Jersey, wrote in 1757, ‘What little success I have lately had, has been chiefly among the extremes of Gentlemen and Negroes. Indeed, God has been remarkably working among the latter. I have baptized 150 adults.’ It was ‘from Calvinism this generation of black authors drew a vision of God at work providentially in lives of black people, directing their sufferings yet promising the faithful among them a restoration to his favour and presence.’⁴

After preaching a final sermon on one visit to Philadelphia and retiring to his lodgings, Whitefield recorded, ‘Near 50 Negroes came to give me thanks for what God had done for their souls.’ He considered this an answer to prayer, saying, ‘I have been much drawn in prayer for them, and have seen them wrought upon by the word preached.’ On Whitefield’s death in 1770, An Elegiac Poem, on the Death of that Celebrated Divine, and Eminent Servant of Jesus Christ, the Reverend and Learned George Whitefield, appeared, containing the following lines:

He pray’d that grace in every heart might dwell:
He long’d to see America excell…
He urg’d the need of HIM to every one;
It was no less than GOD’s co-equal SON!
Take HIM ye wretched for your only good;
Take HIM ye starving souls to be your food.
Ye thirsty, come to this life-giving stream:
Ye Preachers, take him for your joyful theme:
Take HIM, ‘my dear AMERICANS,’ he said,
Be your complaints in his kind bosom laid:
Take HIM ye Africans, he longs for you;
Impartial SAVIOUR, is his title due;
If you will chuse to walk in grace’s road,
You shall be sons, and kings, and priests to GOD.

‘Compos’d in America by a Negro Girl Seventeen Years of Age,’ the poet’s name was Phillis Wheatley.⁵ She had been seized  from Senegal and Gambia, West Africa, when she was about seven years old, and transported to the Boston docks with a shipment of slaves, who because of age or physical frailty were unsuited for rigorous labour in the West Indian and Southern colonies. We know through ship manifest records for the Phillis, that she was taken to America in 1761 where, in the month of August, she was purchased by John Wheatley of Boston. ‘In want of a domestic,’ Susanna Wheatley, wife of prominent Boston tailor John Wheatley, purchased ‘a slender, frail female child … for a trifle,’ because the captain of the slave ship believed that the waif was terminally ill, and he wanted to gain at least a small profit before she died. Here she became the enslaved servant of Susanna Wheatley. Her original birth-name is unknown. The origins of her name are a combination of the boat she had been sold from and the owners’ family name.

Phillis was treated well and, despite being owned by the family, they arranged for her to be educated by private tutors in several subjects, including Latin and Greek. She was ‘so brilliant that she began to publish serious poems as a young teenager.’⁶ By the time she was eighteen, Wheatley had gathered a collection of twenty-eight poems for which she, with the help of Mrs Wheatley, ran advertisements for subscribers in Boston newspapers in February 1772. By the age of twenty, Phillis was no longer tied to the family estate, and in 1772 she was tasked in accompanying the eldest son, Nathaniel, to England, as the family thought it would improve her ailing health as well as her chances of becoming a published poet, in contrast to the attitudes of the colonists. Within a year, Phillis was the first African-American to be published, on the release of her first volume of poetry in 1773.

Her Poetry

She reflected thus on her life:⁷

I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate
Was snatch’d from Afric’s fancy’d happy seat
What pangs excruciating must molest,
What sorrows labour in my parent’s breast?
Steel’d was that soul and by no misery mov’d
That from a father seiz’d his babe belov’d:
Such, such my case. And can I then but pray
Others may never feel tyrannic sway?

Her 1770 poem on the death of Whitefield was a pivotal poem in Wheatley’s life. Whitefield was not the only one for whom she wrote an elegy. She published An Elegy, Sacred to the Memory of that Great Divine, The Reverend and Learned Dr. Samuel Cooper. She wrote a poem to no less than the first president of the United States, George Washington, with whom she had corresponded and whom she was later privileged to meet. She was thought to be only thirteen when she wrote ‘To the University of Cambridge, in New England,’ urging,

Still more, ye sons of science ye receive
The blissful news by messengers from heav’n,
How Jesus’ blood for your redemption flows.
See him with hands out-stretch’t upon the cross;
Immense compassion in his bosom glows;
He hears revilers, nor resents their scorn:
What matchless mercy in the Son of God!

In 1767, aged fourteen, she had written ‘An Address to the Deist,’ refuting their scepticism. It opens with boldness, taking on a task normally of ordained men. She hints at this in her opening line:

Must Ethiopians be employ’d for you?
Greatly rejoice if any good I do.
I ask O unbeliever, Satan’s child
Hath not thy saviour been too much revil’d
Th’ auspicious rays that round his head do shine
Do still declare him to be Christ divine
Doth not the Omnipotent call him son?
And is well pleas’d with his beloved One—?
How canst thou thus divide the trinity—

And urges,

Seek the Eternal while he is so near …
At the last day where wilt thou hide thy face
The Day approaching is no time for Grace.
Too late perceive thyself undone and lost …

Her most famous poem is ‘On Being Brought from Africa to America’:

’Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
‘Their colour is a diabolic die.’
Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain,
May be refin’d, and join th’ angelic train.

Her poem expresses the view that it was God’s larger plan for her salvation, rather than the wickedness of slave traders, that determined the events of her life.⁸ But she also undermines White complacency, reminding Christians (with an apt pun on cane sugar-refining) that blacks and whites are equal in the divine plan. In her poetic eulogy to General David Wooster she castigated patriots who confess Christianity yet oppress her people:

   But how presumptuous shall we hope to find
   Divine acceptance with the Almighty mind
   While yet, O deed ungenerous, they disgrace
   And hold in bondage Afric’s blameless race.
   Let virtue reign and then accord our prayers
   Be victory ours and generous freedom theirs.

‘The pen of an untutor’d African’

She had sent her poem on Whitefield to the Countess of Huntingdon, who then acted as her patron. When doing so she had said, ‘The Tongues of the Learned are insufficient, much less the pen of an untutor’d African, to paint in lively characters the excellencies of this citizen of Zion.’⁹

John Thornton, perhaps the key figure in the circle of the Clapham ‘Saints,’ was in correspondence with Wheatley on several occasions. She wrote to him in July 1772, in reply to him, ‘I thank you for recommending the Bible to be my chef [sic] Study … O that my eyes were more open’d to see the real worth, the true excellence of the word of truth, my flint heart Soften’d with the grateful dews of divine grace.’ She wrote again on her return to America in late 1773, with a remarkable open boldness, urging him, ‘disdain not to be called the Father of Humble Africans and Indians; though despised on earth on account of our colour, we have this Consolation, if he enables us to deserve it, “That God dwells in the humble & contrite heart.” O that I were more and more possess’d of this inestimable blessing; to be directed by the immediate influence of the divine Spirit in my daily walk & Conversation.’

She was deeply saddened by the death of her mistress, telling a frequent correspondent, ‘I have lately met with a great trial in the death of my mistress … I was a poor little outcast and stranger when she took me in: not only into her house but I presently became a sharer in her most tender affections. I was treated by her more like her child than her Servant,’ and recorded how she departed ‘in inexpressible raptures, earnest longings and impatient thirstings for the upper courts of the Lord.’ She also wrote to Thornton on Mrs Wheatley’s death, giving a more extensive account of how at the close ‘she eagerly longed to depart to be with Christ.’ Phillis ‘sat by the whole time at her bedside and Saw with Grief and Wonder, the Effects of Sin on the human race.’ ‘Where had been our hopes,’ had not Christ taken away the sting of death.

Thornton had obviously entertained the idea that she should return to Africa with two others as missionary to her people. It was not feasible, one reason being that she was then ‘an utter stranger’ to the language of the peoples from whence she had originated. ‘How on my arrival how like a Barbarian I Should look to the Natives.’ In a subsequent letter to Thornton, it is clear the debt she feels to him for ‘such uncommon tenderness for thirteen years from my earliest youth—such unwearied diligence to instruct me in the principles of true Religion.’ She saw him as a father and wished, following Mrs Wheatley’s death, that ‘you could in these respects Supply her place, but this does not seem probable from the great distance of your residence’ (October 1774).

She was also in correspondence with Samuel Hopkins. In February 1774 and again later, she was telling him of copies of ‘my books’ (her poetry collection), and of knowing of two ‘Negro men’ who wished to return from Britain ‘desirous of returning to their native country, to preach the gospel.’ She expressed her desire to do all she could, despite her weakness, ‘to promote this laudable design.’ Indeed, she rejoiced hearing of conversions, writing to a Rhode Island correspondent, ‘It gives me very great pleasure to hear of so many of my Nation, Seeking with eagerness the way to true felicity.’ Two months later she tells the same correspondent of her poor health all the last winter.

John Wheatley emancipated Phillis in 1778, three months before the death of her mistress, allowing Phillis to marry John Peters, another free Black person and grocer, three months later. However, the couple struggled with ill-health, low income and poor work, leading to the death of two of their infant children. The financial situation for the family worsened and in 1784 Phillis’ husband was imprisoned for the accumulation of his debts, forcing her to work as a scullery maid at a boarding house to support them. Phillis died on December 5, 1784, at the age of 31, found by other Wheatley family members ‘reduced to a condition too loathsome to describe,’ uncared for and alone. Their last surviving child died in time to be buried with his mother.

Wheatley was much praised by her contemporaries. Jane Dunlap, of whom little is known and who described herself as a poor Bostonian ‘in an obscure station in life,’ published in 1771 a volume of poems inspired by Whitefield’s sermons and dedicated to his memory. The example of Wheatley had moved her to write.

Shall his due praises be so loudly sung
By a young Afric damsel’s virgin tongue?
And I be silent! and no mention make
Of his blest name, who did so often speak
To us, the words of life,
Fetch’d from the fountain pure,
Of God’s most holy sacred truth;
Which ever shall endure.

Her life and writing may move others also.

Ian Shaw is a member of York Evangelical Church, York, England. 

Photo credit (visible when article is shared on social media): A first edition of the book Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral, by Phillis Wheatley, Collection of the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture.

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But there is another matter that I must just touch on at this point, and that is, of course, the question of capital punishment. Here it is: ‘If thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.’ The ‘sword’! Here again is a very vexed question. What is the teaching? Well, from the reference to the use of the sword, and bearing in mind the fact that the sword is the ultimate emblem of the authority of the state — the governing power — it is clear that the state has power to take life, and that this power is granted to it by God.

Now there are objections to this view. Indeed, objections have recently been raised in Britain and as a result capital punishment has been abolished. So what should be the attitude of Christians towards this teaching?

Now I must first say that I am speaking only of capital punishment as the penalty for murder. There was a time in Britain when people were put to death for all sorts of reasons, for stealing sheep, and so on. But those laws were reformed, and the death penalty was only given for murder. So I confine my remarks to that.

But what about the objections that are generally put forward, even in cases of murder? There are those who say that killing in any shape or form is always wrong. There is only one answer to give to that: the Old Testament makes it perfectly plain and clear that that is not the case. God commanded the children of Israel to kill certain people, and, indeed, even to exterminate certain nations. And, of course, throughout the centuries the saints have acted on this principle. There have been some very saintly men in the armies and navies of countries, outstanding Christians some of them, and there have been great Christians such as Oliver Cromwell and others in Britain, who clearly give an answer to that statement that killing is always wrong. ‘But then, says somebody, ‘doesn’t the commandment say, “Thou shalt not kill”? And what about “turning the other cheek”?’

These are the stock arguments. And the answer is that all those commandments are given to the individual. The individual is not to kill; the individual is to turn the other cheek. We dealt with that towards the end of our study of the twelfth chapter of Romans. We are now, however, dealing with the power of the state to take life in the form of capital punishment. So it is no use quoting one of the Ten Commandments, or the teaching of the Sermon on the Mount.

And, thirdly, there is a fierce argument about the deterrent effect of capital punishment. But I do not deal with that because it is not relevant to our scriptural and spiritual discussion. It is a debatable point for lawyers, and does not concern us at all.

What, then, is the scriptural answer? Romans chapter 13 teaches that it is the positive duty of the state to use the sword: ‘He beareth not the sword in vain.’ How does the state come to bear it at all? It is because the state is the representative of God. The state is ‘the minister of God’: ‘For he is the minister of God . . . a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.’ So the power of the sword that the state has is a power that has been delegated by God Himself. It is not that the state has taken it but it has been given by God.

Why has God done this? Surely the answer of the whole of the Old Testament is that God is the author of life. Life is the greatest gift that He gives to men and women. And as God is the author, and the sole author, of life, He alone has a right to take life. It is at that point that you see the enormity of murder. That is why murder is a very special and unique crime. It is one thing to take a man’s goods or his money. It is different again to take his life. A man’s life is the most precious of his possessions. It is God who has given it; only God has a right to take it away.

In other words, it seems to me that, based on the teaching here, the argument for the death penalty can be put like this: capital punishment is designed to maintain and to emphasize and to establish the sanctity of life. It has no vindictive quality in it at all. If the vindictive element comes in, it is wrong. The purpose of capital punishment is not to say, ‘You have taken someone’s life, I am going to take yours.’ It is not that at all. The purpose of capital punishment is to vindicate God’s lordship over life, and to tell man that if he passes beyond that border, he must forfeit his own life. There is nothing that should so teach us the sacredness and the sanctity of life as the carrying out of capital punishment.

It is very interesting to observe the people who are opposed to capital punishment; generally you will find that they are the humanists, the atheists. And generally it is the same people who have been agitating for what they call this ‘new morality’ and who have succeeded in passing a law to allow homosexual practices between adult males. They are acting on the same consistent principle; they do not recognize God and their view of men and women is that they are only animals. They know nothing about the sacredness, the sanctity of life. They do not know that God alone is the author of life. They are ignorant of all this, being blinded by the ‘god of this world’. As humanists, they start and end with man and have no other considerations whatsoever.

But here, in Romans 13, there is the specific statement that the state ‘beareth not the sword in vain’. Furthermore, this is in accord with the Old Testament teaching, including God’s commands to the children of Israel to enforce this principle, in a judicial manner, with other nations. So we must assert the principle that underlies capital punishment. In the next study we will go on to consider pacifism and the relationship between the state and the church.

Buy the book:

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(1/13): Because Romans 13:1–7 is one of the few places in Scripture where there is sustained, direct teaching on the state and the Christian’s relationship to it.

As Lloyd-Jones says, ‘This is a subject that is not dealt with frequently in the Scriptures and that is what makes this passage a kind of locus classicus [‘classic place’] with regard to this matter.’ (p. 31).¹

(2/13): Because every generation of Christians needs clear and balanced teaching on issues of church and state.

Lloyd-Jones was at pains to counter the idea that becoming a Christian was a matter of adopting a ‘purely spiritual’ life that was uninterested in the affairs of the world that God had made. ‘As Christians’, he said, we ‘must not contract out of the world.’ (p. 34). That means, among other things, considering the state and our relationship to it.

(3/13): Because our generation in particular needs clear and balanced teaching on issues of church and state.

Christians in the West live at a time and in a place where high dependence on the state (for everything, it seems—health, wealth, security, education, and self-validation) coincides with very little reflection on the state’s true God-given purpose. We urgently need the counsel of God on this question, and Lloyd-Jones helps us to understand it. He is a sure guide through bumpy terrain that must nevertheless be traversed.

(4/13): Because Lloyd-Jones understood the world in which we live, and yet is not our contemporary.

When Lloyd-Jones died, Queen Elizabeth II was on the throne, Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister, Ronald Reagan was US President, Phil Collins was in the music charts, and Ian Botham captained the English cricket team. In other words, it wasn’t that long ago. Lloyd-Jones speaks to us as one who knows the complexities and frustrations of the modern, globalizing world.

That said, while he lived recently, the Doctor cannot be considered a contemporary. Culture has changed exceedingly rapidly since he preached the sermons on which this book is based. And that is a strength, in this case, because his distance from us enables us to see, for one thing, that the essential points he makes have not changed and, for another, that some of his applications need to be adjusted or extended as we work them out in a different context.

(5/13): Because Lloyd-Jones was historically informed.

These sermons contain a wonderful if somewhat truncated history of the ‘church and state’ debate as it has rumbled on through church history. Lloyd-Jones was a keen historian, and his passion for engagement with the past shines through. But his interest was not merely academic; he insisted that we need the testimony of history if we are to live faithfully today:

‘We have the advantage of being able to look back and see the rival views and the interplay between them, and it behoves us to make full use of this opportunity. So you are now going to have a bit more history. That is not an apology, it is an apologia, or defence!’ (p. 94).

When the Doctor prescribes some history, it is always best to follow his instructions! And it must be said that Lloyd-Jones, in his historical survey,  strikes a careful balance, appreciating the efforts of men in the past whose circumstances were often complicated and pressured. Where necessary, he robustly disagrees with those who departed from the pattern of Scripture.

(6/13): Because Lloyd-Jones is insistent that Scripture should be our authority in all things and he is persistent in his pursuit of the true meaning of the text.

Lloyd-Jones does not rush to application. He insists that before we work out the teaching of Romans 13:1-7, we must understand its essential meaning and its connection to the flow of the epistle. He is clear: ‘true theology should always be based upon a careful and accurate exegesis and exposition and understanding of the Scriptures.’ It is just such exegesis and exposition that we are treated to in the Doctor’s teaching here.

(7/13): Because Lloyd-Jones was not afraid to make challenging applications.

The whole point of the Doctor’s exposition was to promote obedience to the Apostle’s teaching in Romans 13:1-7. Indeed, the Doctor claims that it is because this passage ‘deals more extensively with some of the practical problems faced by Christians in their relationship to the state than any other portion of Scripture’ that ‘it is of very great importance.’ (page 48)

Lloyd-Jones brought out these applications in various ways, sometimes by teaching great principles (see points 10 and 11 below) and sometimes by making very specific applications. An example of the latter is the way in which he taught the propriety of state-administered capital punishment in cases of murder. Lloyd-Jones knew that the question of capital punishment isn’t a fine ethical point to be discussed by academics: it is a matter of grasping what the Scriptures teach about the duty of the state. ‘The state,’ he says, ‘has the power to take life…granted to it by God’ (p. 60). He notes accordingly that, ‘Capital punishment is designed to maintain and to emphasize and to establish the sanctity of life. It has no vindictive quality in it at all…There is nothing that should so teach us the sacredness and the sanctity of life as the carrying out of capital punishment.’ (p. 61).

(8/13): Because Lloyd-Jones didn’t ‘do politics’ in the pulpit.

The question of whether pastors should ‘preach politics’ is being asked by many at the present time. The answer depends, of course, on what is meant by ‘preach politics.’ What Lloyd-Jones certainly did not do was to transform the pulpit into his personal soap-box. He didn’t vent, or cajole, or harangue. He was a servant of the Word (Christ) and of the word (the Bible). He aimed to teach no more and no less than what the whole counsel of God set forth. And in that noble aim we see his wisdom and true greatness as a servant of God and man.

(9/13): Because Lloyd-Jones didn’t ‘do pietism’ in the pulpit.

We must not assume that because Lloyd-Jones was not overtly political in the pulpit, that therefore he was a preacher or practitioner of ‘pietism’, defined as a strictly individual and devotional mode of Christianity which avoids public application. Lloyd-Jones knew that devotion was both public and private, and that the Christian is called to live out his faith in all of life. He taught individuals their duty. He also boldly set forth the duties of the state before the face of God.

(10/13): Because Lloyd-Jones taught godly subjection to the ‘powers that be.’

The default position of the Christian is godly submission to the ‘higher powers’ as they are ‘ministers of God’ (Rom. 13:6), even when those invested with the state’s power do not love God or follow Christ the King (as, more often than not, they do not). This is a challenging doctrine for Christians who suffer, Christians who care about the state of the world, and Christians outraged by evil. We are to pursue godly subjection. Here’s how the Doctor puts it:

‘We are not to look at them [‘the powers that be’] in and of themselves, but are to realize what they are and what has given them their being and their position. As Christian people, we are to honour them, respect them, put ourselves under them, as it were, and submit ourselves unto them.’ (p. 22).

This is challenging, indeed, and calls for grace.

(11/13): Because Lloyd-Jones taught a clear basis for godly resistance to tyranny.

Intriguingly, Lloyd-Jones did not teach that we ought to ‘obey’ the state. Or at least, he did not hold that this was Paul’s teaching in Romans 13. We are to be subject to the ‘powers that be’, yes, but not to yield them unqualified obedience. For ‘the powers’ are not the ultimate authority – that alone belongs to God. And just as Lloyd-Jones clearly teaches Christian subjection to the state, so also he teaches the limits of Christian subjection:

‘We are to be subject to the higher powers until they in any way come between us and our loyalty to God Himself and His commandments to us.’ (p. 53)

(12/13): Because Lloyd-Jones warned us to be ready to suffer.

One consequence of our godly resistance to the tyranny of the state may be serious suffering, even death. Lloyd-Jones notes of the early Christians:

‘…they were confronted with the choice – either they said, ‘Caesar is Lord,’ or else they were put to death. And they were very ready indeed to die rather than make that statement. At that point they rightly refused to be subject to the powers that be. They disobeyed them and were ready to suffer the consequences of their disobedience.’ (p. 53)

Lloyd-Jones is mindful that the faithfulness to God implicit in godly resistance to the state may cost some of his hearers their lives. Indeed, this is yet one more reason for being clear on these things:

‘For our own sake, and for the sake of our brethren who are struggling with these issues, perhaps even at the risk of losing their very lives, it behoves us to have clear ideas as to the teaching of the great Apostle.’ (p. 15)

(13/13): Because Lloyd-Jones preached on the state with a heavenly perspective.

He puts the whole matter this way:

‘We are to remember that as Christians our relationship to the state is, at its very best, only temporary. This is our position: ‘Our conversation’ – citizenship – ‘is in heaven’ [Phil. 3:20]. Now I have warned you not to misinterpret that and say, ‘Therefore I’ve nothing to do with the state.’ That is wrong. Nevertheless, it is our fundamental position that the place we belong to is heaven. That is our capital city. We are strangers here.’

And that, surely—the knowledge that we are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s—is what will sustain us through our pilgrim days. It will help us to offer godly subjection to the state when we can, and godly resistance to the state only when we must.

Striking a faithful balance today

Martyn Lloyd-Jones’ teaching on Romans 13:1-7, found in the thirteenth volume of his series on Romans, is a sparkling example of grounded but passionate biblical exposition. Moreover, Lloyd-Jones teaches us on a topic that we can no longer avoid. Faced with a society which swings between the idolization of the state on the one hand and the utter denunciation of its operations on the other, Christians must evince a different attitude. We must recognize the God-ordained purpose of the state, the God-bestowed authority of the state, and the God-appointed limits of the state. Dr Lloyd-Jones can help us strike the balance faithfully.

Joshua Kellard is Communications Manager at the Banner of Truth Trust.

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I suggest that this passage teaches something along the following lines: It is clear that we are to be subject to the state, to the governing powers that be. This is something we will all agree about. The Christian is always to be a good and peaceable citizen. We can go so far as to say that Christians should always be the best citizens in the country. Their faith does not give them greater brain power, but, for example, they do not harm their minds by drinking too much or by eating too much, and so on. They should be better men and women than anybody else and therefore should be better citizens.

Now this, let me repeat, is simply because they are Christians. As the Apostle puts it in verse 5: ‘Ye must needs be subject, not only for wrath…’ This is one of the great differences between a Christian and a non-Christian. As far as non-Christians are concerned, the main motive for observing the law is the threat of punishment, so they will go as near the line as they can, just short of being caught. Wrath! In the main, they are governed by the fear of wrath. There are, I know, exceptions, but speaking generally, this is true. Nothing but fear makes people conform to the law.

But that is not to be the case with the Christian. ‘Ye must needs be subject,’ says Paul, ‘not only for wrath, but also for conscience sake’, which means, as we have seen, that as a Christian you have an understanding of this matter. It is only Christians who see the real need for the state. It is Christians alone who really believe in sin, who know what sin is, and the power it has in each person’s life. They realize as nobody else can, the extent to which sin can lead us, both individually and collectively. They also see more clearly than anyone else the necessity for controlling sin and its manifestations and results. That is why Christians should always be on the side of law and order. Humanists do not believe in sin at all, so they do not see the same need for legislation, and you will therefore find that, as a general rule, they are opposed to various laws. I shall return to this a little later.

But not only do Christians see the need for law, control and order, they know that God Himself has made this provision for the maintenance of life. Try to think what life in the world would be like if you suddenly banished all the laws; if you banished the police force and everything that is designed to preserve law and order.

Christians have an understanding of these things. This is what is meant by conscience. And, therefore, they know the need for discipline and punishment. For those reasons they must be subject to the state and to its enactments. But I must hasten to add that there is a qualification to that statement; there is a limit beyond which it is not true. It is quite clear in the Scriptures that if the state should ever come between me and my relationship to God, then I must not obey it.

Let me give you my evidence for this. You find it, for instance, in the Acts of the Apostles, in the fourth chapter. Peter and John had been arrested for preaching and for healing the man at the Beautiful Gate of the temple and had been dragged before the ruling powers. Then we read in verses 18 to 20: ‘And they called them, and commanded them not to speak at all nor teach in the name of Jesus. But Peter and John answered and said unto them, Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard.’ This is repeated in the fifth chapter, after the Apostles had again been told to stop preaching. In verse 28, the authorities say to them, ‘Did we not straitly command you that ye should not teach in this name? and, behold, ye have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine, and intend to bring this man’s blood upon us.’ And Peter and the other Apostles reply, ‘We ought to obey God rather than men.’

Now at first you might think that this contradicts verse 1 of Romans chapter 13 where the Apostle Paul says, ‘Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers.’ But there is a qualification: the powers that be are designed to carry out God’s will, and if they thwart or try to thwart it, and seek to prevent people from observing it and carrying it out, then those people are entitled to say to them, ‘We ought to obey God rather than men.’ That is quite clear in the Acts of the Apostles, and that was the principle on which the early Christians acted.

Later on, of course, many Christians were in this position. The state, the Roman state, not only looked to the emperor as a governor and a leader, but deified and worshipped him; they said, ‘Caesar is Lord.’ When the Christians were told that they, too, must say that, they replied: ‘We know that Jesus is Lord, and we cannot worship any man.’ So they were confronted with the choice — either they said, ‘Caesar is Lord’, or else they were put to death. And they were very ready indeed to die rather than make that statement. At that point they rightly refused to be subject to the powers that be. They disobeyed them and were ready to suffer the consequences of their disobedience.

So we are to be subject to the higher powers until they in any way come between us and our loyalty to God Himself and His commandments to us.

Featured Photo (visible when article shared on social media) by Hansjörg Keller on Unsplash. 

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Isaiah 24–27 has sometimes been described as his ‘Tale of Two Cities.’ Like Charles Dickens’ well-known novel, they speak of a terrifying urban convulsion which has widespread reverberations. But the difference between them is of course far greater than any similarity, and that has not been minimised by those who borrow that title.

Dickens recorded the ‘Terror’ of the French Revolution that sent shock waves from Paris to London (and across Europe to the New World) to which he could only append the desirable possibility of a ‘resurrection-like’ renewal. Isaiah’s ‘two cities’ are an anticipation of ‘Babylon’ and the ‘New Jerusalem’ in John’s Apocalypse, and what he says about each is certain and everlasting.

In chapter 24, he refers 16 times to ‘the earth or land’ (one word in Hebrew). ‘Earth’ is the better rendering because the ‘world’ with all its highest people or ‘nations’ (24: 4, 13) is later joined with it, and so it is more than the land of Israel that is in view. He was well aware of other nations – although his ‘world’ was smaller than ours – but he condenses it all into one global ‘city’ (24:10, 12) and announces that ‘it falls and will not rise again’ (24:20). A little later he identifies it as ‘a heap, a ruin, a city no more … never [to be] rebuilt’ (25:2) and he therefore gives it no name.

To the other city, Isaiah gives two names, or two in one, namely ‘Mount Zion’ and ‘Jerusalem’ (24:23). It is a temple-capital which is set up by the Lord God with ‘salvation’ for its ‘walls and bulwarks’ (26:1). In it there is lasting light (24:23) and deathless life (25:7) for all peoples (25:6, 7). A little later it is described as ‘an untroubled habitation, an immovable tent, whose stakes will never be plucked up, nor will any of its cords be broken’ (33:20). This city must be for evermore.

What is said about these cities takes place ‘in [or] on that day.’ This is a recurring expression in these chapters (see 24:21–25:8; 25:9-12; 26:1-21; 27:1; 27:2-11; 27:12 and 27:13). Some reservations have been expressed about treating them all as a reference to ‘the Day of the Lord’ as the expression ‘on that day’ can be used loosely. But if what they introduce are acts of judgment and salvation that should settle the matter and that is what Isaiah refers to. We take them as such and so ‘the Day of the Lord’ will be the theme of this expository study. It will be treated in seven sections with 24:1-20 providing a kind of ‘overture’ to the whole as it deals with both those realities.

This is a better procedure than attempting to isolate the ‘songs’ in the poem because there is no firm agreement as to which portions of the text they are. There is, for example, some uncertainty about whether the song that opens chapter 26 extends beyond verse 2 to include verses 5 and 6 and even verses 7-19. Making a decision as to whether a piece of poetry is a song or ‘just’ a poem is no easy task. For example, do we decide that 25:1-6 is a song but that verses 7–12 are not, in spite of their having a rhythm? But our proposed arrangement is not without its own difficulties because three of these sections contain only one verse. Hopefully, that is outweighed by its closeness to the text itself as well as the overall theme of the poem.

Taking this route means working our way through the text as it is laid out in our Bibles although the chapter divisions are not strictly adhered to because of the continuity between 24:21 and 25:1, and perhaps between 26:12 and 27:1.

More significant is the change of perspective between 24 and 25 and 26 and 27 that has been noticed by commentators which Oswalt explains as follows,

Broadly speaking, one may divide the segment into two subsegments, chs 24–25 and chs 26–27. In the first subsegment, the major focus is upon the city of this world, its using overthrow (ch. 24) and the response to its overthrow (ch. 25). The second subsegment centres upon God’s efforts on behalf of his people. One of the major elements here is the admission of helplessness on the part of the people (26:7-18). Coupled with this is the conviction that God is able and willing to manifest his power among the nations and to deliver his people from them.¹

In commenting on chapter 26, Mackay also speaks of a ‘change in temporal perspective to focus on the present significance for Judah of the glorious future that is promised to her.’² This distinction of a change of aspect but not of subject, enables our study of these seven sections to be grouped into two which can be subsumed ‘There and Then’ and ‘Here and Now.’

Isaiah 24–27 is a magnificent son et lumière³ of ‘the Day of the Lord’ in judgment and salvation, and also of godly rejoicing and waiting for it in dark days. It comports with ‘the already and not yet’ of Christian living, and so Christians should find strength and comfort in these chapters as they look forward and upward to the Lord’s return and ‘the new world.’

Behold the mountain of the Lord
In latter days shall rise
On mountain tops above the hills,
and draw the wondering eyes.

To this the joyful nations round,
all tribes and tongues, shall flow;
Up to the hill of God, they’ll say,
and to his house we’ll go.

The beam that shines from Zion hill
shall lighten every land;
The King who reigns in Salem’s towers
shall all the world command.

Among the nations he shall judge;
his judgments truth shall guide;
His sceptre shall protect the just,
and quell the sinner’s pride.

No strife shall rage, nor hostile feuds
disturb those peaceful years;
To ploughshares men shall beat their swords,
to pruning-hooks their spears.

No longer hosts, encountering hosts,
shall crowds of slain deplore:
They hang the trumpet in the hall,
and study war no more.

Come then, O house of Jacob! come
to worship at his shrine;
And, walking in the light of God,
with holy beauties shine.

Paraphrase of Isaiah 2:2-6
Michael Bruce (1746–67)

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‘During the past week the church of God, and the world at large, have sustained a very serious loss. In the taking home to himself by our gracious Lord of the Earl of Shaftesbury, we have, in my judgment, lost the best man of the age. I do not know whom I should place second, but I certainly should put him first — far beyond all other servants of God within my knowledge — for usefulness and influence. He was a man most true in his personal piety, as I know from having enjoyed his private friendship; a man most firm in his faith in the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ; a man intensely active in the cause of God and truth. Take him whichever way you please, he was admirable: he was faithful to God in all his house, fulfilling both the first and second commands of the law in fervent love to God, and hearty love to man. He occupied his high position with singleness of purpose and immovable steadfastness: where shall we find his equal?

If it is not possible that he was absolutely perfect, it is equally impossible for me to mention a single fault, for I saw none. He exhibited scriptural perfection, inasmuch as he was sincere, true, and consecrated. Those things which have been regarded as faults by the loose thinkers of this age are prime virtues in my esteem. They called him narrow; and in this they bear unconscious testimony to his loyalty to truth. I rejoiced greatly in his integrity, his fearlessness, his adherence to principle, in a day when revelation is questioned, the gospel explained away, and human thought set up as the idol of the hour. He felt that there was a vital and eternal difference between truth and error; consequently, he did not act or talk as if there was much to be said on either side, and, therefore, no one could be quite sure. We shall not know for many a year how much we miss in missing him; how great an anchor he was to this drifting generation, and how great a stimulus he was to every movement for the benefit of the poor.

Both man and beast may unite in mourning him; he was the friend of every living thing. He lived for the oppressed; he lived for London; he lived for the nation; he lived still more for God. He has finished his course; and though we do not lay him to sleep in the grave with the sorrow of those that have no hope, yet we cannot but mourn that a great man and a prince has fallen this day in Israel. Surely, the righteous are taken away from the evil to come, and we are left to struggle on under increasing difficulties.’

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The story of religious covenanting in Scotland covers a long period, beginning in 1557 when certain men did ‘band thame selfis’ to maintain ‘the trew preaching of the Evangell of Jesus Christ’. Two years later, after the return of John Knox from Geneva, the reforming party entered into three distinct covenants [at Perth, Edinburgh and Stirling respectively] for the purpose of promoting the work of the Reformation. Again, in 1560, a covenant of a more political nature contributed to the extermination of French influence from Scottish affairs and resulted within a few weeks in the Treaty of Edinburgh with Protestant England. Seven years later Mary of Scots was overthrown, and certain ‘articles’, to which the leaders of the people subscribed, virtually formed a still further ‘band’ to enable Protestantism to become ‘rooted, grounded and settled’ in the land.

These various covenants were eclipsed in interest and importance by another of 1581, sometimes called ‘The King’s Confession’ and sometimes ‘The Second Confession of Faith’,  which vigorously denounced Romish corruptions and clarified Protestant doctrine. The dread inspired by the approach of the Spanish Armada in 1588 moved King James VI and ‘divers of his Estates’ to enter into another covenant known as ‘The General Band’, and during the next four or five years, still further covenants concerning king, country and religion saw the light. More important, however, from the spiritual standpoint was a covenant promoted by the General Assembly of the Scottish Kirk in 1596, for this made the Little Kirk of Edinburgh a very Bochim (see Judges 2:4–5), the like of which had not been seen in Scotland since the Reformation.

A new and ominous factor in political and religious life appeared in the early seventeenth century. It had not been entirely absent during the late sixteenth century, but after James VI’s accession to the English throne in 1603 as James I, it increased in strength and importance, and before long resulted in a long-drawn-out campaign between Episcopacy and Presbyterianism. The first two Stuart kings of England accepted wholeheartedly the pattern of episcopal church government as found in Scotland’s southern neighbour, and Charles I in particular, urged on by Canterbury’s infamous Archbishop William Laud, determined to make Scotland bow willy-nilly to the episcopal yoke. Then came the tremendous storm of July 1637, the ominous stool-throwing by Jenny Geddes, with the cry, ‘Will ye read that book [the Prayer Book] in my lug?’, the signing of the highly significant National Covenant in Greyfriars Church and Churchyard [1638], the two Bishops’ Wars extending to 1641, and, in general, the revolt of an entire nation against its rulers. The underlying cause was spiritual rather than political. A nation had queried the claim by a monarch to determine the form of government of a national church, and had fired a cannon whose sound reverberated to the farthest Hebrides.

The National Covenant of 1638, the outstanding covenant of Scottish History, declared the firm determination of its Presbyterian authors and subscribers to resist to the death the claims of the king and his minions to override the Crown Rights of the Redeemer in His Kirk. It is a formidable document indeed, bristling with references to former Acts of Parliament in typical legal fashion. It gives high honour to the eternal God and His most holy Word; demands the faithful preaching of that Word, the due and right ministration of the sacraments, the abolishing of all false religion, and the rooting out of the king’s empire of all heretics and enemies to the true worship of God, on conviction ‘by the true Kirk of God’. The subscribers further say that they fear neither ‘the foul aspersions of rebellion, combination, or what else our adversaries from their craft and malice would put upon us, seeing what we do is so well warranted, and ariseth from an unfeigned desire to maintain the true worship of God, the majesty of our King, and the peace of the kingdom, for the common happiness of ourselves and our posterity. They pledge themselves as in the sight of God to ‘be good examples to others of all godliness, soberness, and righteousness, and of every duty we owe to God and man.’

The Covenant draws to a close with the following statement: ‘That this our union and conjunction may be observed without violation, we call the Living God, the Searcher of our hearts, to witness, who knoweth this to be our sincere desire and unfeigned resolution, as we shall answer to Jesus Christ in the great day, and under the pain of God’s everlasting wrath, and of infamy and loss of all honour and respect in this world: most humbly beseeching the lord to strengthen us by His Holy Spirit for this end, and to bless our desires and proceedings with a happy success; that religion and righteousness may flourish in the land, to the glory of God, the honour of our King, and peace and comfort of us all.’

The Kirk of Scotland had spoken; let the king and the archbishop tremble. The King, however, chose to follow his own pre-determined policy and such devices as Laud could invent. Meanwhile his troubles in his realm of England reached their desperate climax. Civil War commenced in the summer of 1642 and Scotland and the English Long Parliament came into close co-operation. In the opinion of both alike, absolute monarchy was threatening the true interests of the children of God and the unique Lordship of the King of kings, and must be resisted at all costs. Within a year came the signing of the Solemn League and Covenant by the two peoples, in which the Convention of Scottish Estates, with the approval of the General Assembly of the Kirk, undertook to give the English Parliament military aid against the King, while the English Parliament on its part undertook to establish and enforce Presbyterianism in England and to meet the expenses of a Scottish army operating in England.

The events of the Civil War and Commonwealth periods we need not here discuss. Oliver Cromwell, ‘the great Independent’, emerged from the period of conflict as a semi-dictator; Scotland and England fell apart, not without war, only to be brought together again politically by the union of Parliaments which England enforced after its military triumph. But England as a nation soon tired of Puritan domination and in 1660 the son of Charles returned to rule England and Scotland as Charles II. He claimed to be in the eleventh year of his reign.

The new king’s conscience was exceedingly pliable. In 1650, a year and a half after his father’s execution, when he was using all endeavours to recover the two thrones, he had offered to subscribe and swear the National Covenant and the Solemn League and Covenant, and actually did so on the 23rd June. A month later he had accepted the Dunfermline Declaration, in which he deplored his father’s opposition to the work of religious Reformation, confessed his mother Henrietta Maria’s Popish idolatry, professed his own sincerity and detestation of all ‘Popery, superstition and idolatry, together with Prelacy’ and all other errors and heresies, and announced his determination not to tolerate them in any part of his dominions. If royal promises are good, the outlook for Scotland, not to say England, was bright with hope. At a Coronation ceremony at Scone on New Year’s Day, 1651, Charles renewed his oath and subscription to the 1638 and 1643 covenants. But the word of the son was no more reliable than that of the father, and when Charles found that he could not stand against the power of the English New Model army on the battle field and that it was necessary for him to ‘go on his travels again’, he soon abandoned his solemn vows and drowned the voice of his conscience in the wine of forgetfulness.

The Restoration of Charles II in 1660 soon led to a full display of the king’s perfidy and marked the commencement of the Covenanter Period proper. The fair promises contained in the Declaration of Breda in 1659 were virtually annulled by the astute Edward Hyde (Lord Clarendon), now acting as the Lord Chancellor of England. He contrived the inclusion of a qualification in each royal concession, to the effect that the king would agree to whatsoever Parliament proposed on each point of the Declaration. In this fashion Charles could make pretence of yielding to Parliament’s desires while making sure, in the devious ways open to his ministers, that those desires were to all intents and purposes his own.

Acts of Parliament shortly restored the royal prerogative and supremacy in matters of religion. The National Covenant of 1638 and the Solemn League and Covenant of 1643 were condemned as high treason, and henceforward it became perilous to adhere to them or to speak with approval of them. Simultaneously came the news to Scotland that the king was set upon restoring prelacy in full strength and vigour. An obsequious Parliament in Edinburgh passed an Act to give effect to this resolve. In the Preamble of the Act it was asserted that the king possessed an ‘inherent right’, ‘by virtue of his royal prerogative and supremacy in causes ecclesiastical’, to legislate for the Kirk. The current oath of allegiance to the crown tied all who took it to the same principle, namely, that whatever power the king claimed in Church and State was his of divine right.

Nor was this the limit of the matter. The evil system of patronage which had been abolished in 1649 was restored. This meant that patron and bishop, and no others, had authority in the presentation of ministers to livings. All ministers who had entered upon a living since 1649 but had not obtained such presentation were required to quit their parishes. Between three and four hundred men were thus sequestered.

In 1664, by Royal Prerogative, the Court of High Commission, which, together with the Star Chamber, had been Archbishop Laud’s notorious instrument of repression, was again set up, with power to determine all aspects of Church policy. These measures gave the bishops legal authority to hunt down all who refused to conform to their demands. Non-conformists—and all true Covenanters were such—were savagely persecuted during the next twenty-five years. Simultaneously, English Puritans who failed to conform to the requirements of the Clarendon Code [1661–5] were harassed and scourged, though certainly with much less actual brutality than the Scots.

The Huguenots of France were also soon to experience all the ferocity of a fanatical king and church. But the war that was now waged against Scottish Covenanters with a similar intensity pre-dated Huguenot troubles by almost a quarter of a century. If French Protestants suffered the rigour of the ‘dragonades’ in the ’eighties, the Covenanters met with similar woes, and even more tragic, in the ’sixties. Hunted mercilessly by the dragoons, some of them believed it right to meet force with force. Hence such encounters as those of Rullion Green [November 1666], Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge [both in June 1679], and Airds Moss, or Ayrsmoss [July 1680]. The killing of Archbishop Sharp of St Andrews in 1679 further illustrates the state of desperation reached by a small section of the covenanting party. A larger number were willing to abide, not only in the kingdom, but also in the patience of Jesus Christ, and to wait prayerfully and courageously for the dawn of better days.

Many who could not be charged with the breach of any law were asked if they owned the king’s authority. If they disowned it, they stood self-condemned; if they qualified their submission by distinguishing between Church and State, or if they declined to give their opinion, they were deemed equally guilty of treason. But, as Alexander Shields, the author of A Hind Let Loose, says: ‘The more they (that is, the authorities) insisted in this inquisition, the more did the number of witnesses multiply, with a growing increase of undauntedness, so that the then shed blood of the martyrs became the seed of the Church; and as, by hearing and seeing them so signally countenanced of the Lord, many were reclaimed from their courses of compliance, so others were daily more and more confirmed in the ways of the Lord, and so strengthened by His grace that they chose rather to endure all torture and embrace death in its most terrible aspect, than to give the tyrant and his accomplices any acknowledgement, yea not so much as to say, God save the King, which was offered as the price of their life.’

Readers of the tragic story may thus be assured that the refusal of firm Covenanters to say ‘God save the King’ was not the result of any lack of true civil loyalty to ‘the powers that be, that are ordained of God’, but solely the result of an enlightened conscience which refused to give to man, no matter how highly exalted in office he might be, the honour due to the Lord’s Anointed. When such persons as the Solway martyrs [‘the two Margarets’] refused to say ‘God save the King’, it was because of the meaning given to the expression by men in authority. Its use was tantamount to confessing that the king was supreme earthly ruler in the Church of God. The Covenanters chose death rather than life when impaled on the horns of the dreadful dilemma.

Shields’ book, A Hind Let Loose, first printed in Holland in 1687, is a defence of the Covenanters. It expounds the belief that the king, though high in rank and office, is ‘inferior to the people’ whom he governs, and that their interests must take precedence over his. Ideally their interests are the same, but when the king shows himself a tyrant and a usurper of the rights of the Kirk, not to say of Christ the Head of the Kirk, ergo [one of Shields’ favourite words], he is to be resisted. Furthermore, if he is or becomes a Papist, how can he rule agreeably to the mind of God? The matter is argued with a vast abundance of biblical illustration, and with much reference to Reformation and Puritan divines. It should be consulted, if practicable, by all who wish fully to understand the inner spirit of the Covenanting Movement.

In the ultimate issue the question at stake, in all its stark nakedness, was whether a temporal monarch or the Lord Jesus Christ was to be ‘Head over all things to the Church’. To faithful Covenanters only one answer was possible, and whether their problems concerned individuals, families, conventicles, or general assemblies, they urged with fierce and unshakeable tenacity that ‘Jesus Christ is Lord’.

No suffering could be too great to endure in such a cause. The scaffold could not daunt them; instruments of torture could not make them quail; the sufferings and discomforts of cave or moor or prison-cell could not move them to act and speak against conscience. Behind and above covenants subscribed with their hands and witnessed to by their hearts, and in an even truer sense subscribed in their blood, was ‘the everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure’, itself sealed with the blood of the Mediator, and itself the pattern of all lesser covenants. Faith gave buoyancy to the Covenanters’ resolution; hope was the anchor of their souls; the love of Christ shed abroad in their hearts ever spurred them on to do and to suffer; ‘outside the camp’ they bore His reproach; and before them ever loomed large ‘the recompense of the reward’ and the gates of the city of God.

The ‘Killing Time’ eventually gave place to toleration and freedom. The overthrow of King James II and the establishment of William and Mary on the throne brought liberty and enlargement. But whether faith and hope and love shone as brightly in Scottish hearts in the velvety days ahead as in the grim days which produced the Covenanting Movement, let those judge who can.

S. M. Houghton

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PATRICK HAMILTON was born about the year of our Lord 1503, and was nephew to the Earl of Arran by his father, and to the Duke of Albany by his mother; he was also related to King James V. of Scotland. He was early educated with a design for future high preferment, and had the abbacy of Ferne, in Ross-shire, given him, for the purpose of prosecuting his studies, which he did with great assiduity.

In order to complete this laudable design, he resolved to travel into Germany. The fame of the university of Wittenberg was then very great, and drew many to it from distant places, among whom our Hamilton was one. He was the first who introduced public disputations upon faith and works, and such theological questions, into the university of Marpurg [Marburg], in which he was assisted by Francis Lambert, by whose conversation he profited not a little. Here he became acquainted with these eminent reformers, Martin Luther and Philip Melanchthon, besides other learned men of their society. By these distinguished masters he was instructed in the knowledge of the true religion, which he had little opportunity to become acquainted with in his own country, because the small remains of it in Scotland at this time were under the yoke of oppression, as we have already shown at the close of the Introduction. He made an amazing proficiency in this most important study, and became soon as zealous in the profession of the true faith, as he had been diligent to attain the knowledge of it.

[He] became soon as zealous in the profession of the true faith, as he had been diligent to attain the knowledge of it.

This drew the eyes of many upon him; and while they were waiting with impatience to see what part he would act, he came to the resolution of returning to his own country, and there, in the face of all dangers, of communicating the light which he had received. Accordingly, being as yet a youth, not being much past twenty-three years of age, he began sowing the seed of God’s word wherever he came, exposing the corruptions of the Romish church, and pointing out the errors which had crept into the Christian religion as professed in Scotland. He was favourably received and followed by many, unto whom he readily “shewed the way of God more perfectly.” His reputation as a scholar, and his courteous demeanour, contributed not a little to his usefulness in the good work.

The city of St Andrews was at this time the grand rendezvous of the Romish clergy, and might with no impropriety be called the metropolis of the kingdom of darkness. James Beaton was archbishop, Hugh Spence dean of divinity, John Waddel rector, James Simson official, Thomas Ramsay canon and dean of the abbey, with the several superiors of the different orders of monks and friars. It could not be expected that Patrick Hamilton’s conduct would be long concealed from such a body as this. Their resentment against him soon rose to the utmost height of persecuting rage; the Archbishop particularly, who was Chancellor of the kingdom, and otherwise very powerful, became his inveterate enemy; but being not less politic than cruel, he concealed his wicked design against Patrick Hamilton, until he had drawn him into the ambush prepared for him, which he effected by prevailing on him to attend a conference at St Andrews.

Their resentment against him soon rose to the utmost height of persecuting rage

Being come thither, Alexander Campbell, prior of the Black Friars, who had been appointed to exert his faculties in reclaiming him, had several private interviews with Patrick Hamilton, in which he seemed to acknowledge the force of his objections against the prevailing conduct of the clergy, and the errors of the Romish church. Such persuasions as Campbell used to bring him back to Popery, had rather the tendency to confirm him in the truth.

The Archbishop and inferior clergy appeared to make concessions, allowing that many things stood in need of reformation, which they could wish had been brought about. Whether they were sincere in these acknowledgments, or only intended to conceal their bloody designs, and render the innocent and unsuspecting victim of their rage more secure, is a question to which this answer may be returned, that had they been sincere, the consciousness that Patrick Hamilton spoke truth would, perhaps, have warded off the blow, for at least some longer time, or would have divided their councils and measures against him. That neither of these was the case will now appear.

Patrick Hamilton was apprehended under night, and committed prisoner to the castle; and at the same time the young King James V., at the earnest solicitation of the clergy, was prevailed upon to undertake a pilgrimage to St Duthach in Ross-shire, that he might be out of the way of any applications that might be made to him for Hamilton’s life, which there was reason to believe would be granted. This measure affords full proof, that notwithstanding the friendly conferences which they kept up with him for some time, they had from the beginning resolved on his ruin; but such instances of Popish dissembling were not new even in Patrick Hamilton’s time.

The next day after his imprisonment, he was brought before the Archbishop and his convention, and there charged with maintaining and propagating sundry heretical opinions: and though articles of the utmost importance had been debated betwixt him and them, they restricted their charges to such trifles as pilgrimage, purgatory, praying to saints and for the dead; perhaps because these were the grand pillars upon which Antichrist built his empire, being the most lucrative doctrines ever invented by men. We must, however, take notice that Spottiswoode, afterwards archbishop of that See, assigns the following as grounds for his suffering: 1. That the corruption of sin remains in children after their baptism. 2. That no man by the mere power of his free will can do any good. 3. That no man is without sin so long as he liveth. 4. That every true Christian may know himself to be in a state of grace. 5. That a man is not justified by works, but by faith only. 6. That good works make not a man good, but that a good man doth good works, and that an ill man doth ill works; yet the same ill works, truly repented of, make not an ill man. 7. That faith, hope, and charity, are so linked together, that he who hath one of them hath all, and he that lacketh one lacketh all. 8. That God is the cause of sin in this sense, that he withdraweth his grace from man; and, grace withdrawn, he cannot but sin. These articles make up the whole charge along with the following: (1.) That auricular confession is not necessary to salvation. (2.) That actual penance cannot purchase the remission of sin. (3.) That there is no purgatory, and that the holy patriarchs were in heaven before Christ’s passion. (4.) That the Pope is Antichrist, and that every priest hath as much power as he.

For holding these articles, and because he refused to abjure them, he was condemned as an obstinate heretic, and delivered to the secular power by the archbishops of St Andrews and Glasgow, the bishops of Dunkeld, Brechin, and Dunblane, and fourteen underlings, who all set their hands to the sentence; which, that it might have the greater authority, was likewise subscribed by every person of note in the university, among whom the Earl of Casillis was one, then not exceeding thirteen years of age. The sentence follows as given by Mr Foxe in his Acts and Monuments, vol. ii. folio edition, 1661, p. 227.

“CHRISTI nomine invocato: We, James, by the mercy of God, Archbishop of St Andrews, Primate of Scotland, with the counsel, decree, and authority, of the most reverend fathers in God, and lords, abbots, doctors of theology, professors of the holy Scripture, and masters of the university, assisting us for the time, sitting in judgment, within our metropolitan church of St Andrews, in the cause of heretical pravity, against Patrick Hamilton, abbot or pensionary of Ferne, being summoned to appear before us, to answer to certain articles affirmed, taught, and preached by him; and so appearing before us, and accused, the merits of the cause being ripely weighed, discussed, and understood by faithful inquisition made in Lent last passed, we have found the same Patrick Hamilton, many ways infamed with heresy, disputing, holding, and maintaining divers heresies of Martin Luther and his followers, repugnant to our faith, and which are already condemned by general councils and most famous universities. And he being under the same infamy, we decerning before him, to be summoned and accused upon the premises, he of evil mind (as may be presumed) passed to other parts, forth of the realm, suspected and noted for heresy. And being lately returned, not being admitted, but of his own head, without licence or privilege, hath presumed to preach wicked heresy.

“We have found, also, that he hath affirmed, published, and taught divers opinions of Luther, and wicked heretics, after that he was summoned to appear before us and our council: that man hath no free will—that man is in sin so long as he liveth—that children, incontinent after their baptism, are sinners—all Christians that be worthy to be called Christians, do know that they are in grace—no man is justified by works, but by faith only—good works make not a man good, but a good man doth make good works—that faith, hope, and charity, are so knit, that he that hath one hath the rest, and that he that wants one of them wants the rest, etc., with divers other heresies and detestable opinions; and hath persisted so obstinate in the same, that by no counsel or persuasion he may be drawn therefrom, to the way of our right faith.

“All these premises being considered, we, having the fear of God and the integrity of our faith before our eyes, and following the counsel and advice of the professors of the holy Scripture, men of law, and others assisting us for the time being, do pronounce, determine, and declare the said Patrick Hamilton, for his affirming, confessing, and maintaining of the foresaid heresies, and his pertinacity (they being condemned already by the church, general councils, and most famous universities) to be an heretic, and to have an evil opinion of the faith, and therefore to be condemned and punished, like as we condemn and punish, and define him to be punished, by this our sentence definitive, depriving and sentencing him to be deprived of all dignities, honours, orders, offices, and benefices of the church: and therefore do judge and pronounce him to be delivered over to the secular power, to be punished, and his goods to be confiscated.

“This our sentence definitive, was given and read at our metropolitan church of St Andrews, this last day of the month of February, anno 1527, being present, the most reverend fathers in Christ, and lords, Gawand Archbishop of Glasgow, George bishop of Dnnkeld, John bishop of Brechin, James bishop of Dunblane, Patrick prior of St Andrews, David abbot of Aberbrothwick (afterwards Cardinal Beaton), George abbot of Dunfermline, Alexander abbot of Cambuskenneth, Henry abbot of Lindores, John prior of Pittenweeme, the dean and subdean of Glasgow, Mr Hugh Spence, Thomas Ramsay, Allan Meldrum, etc. In presence of the clergy and people.”

The same day that this doom was pronounced, he was also condemned by the secular power, and on the afternoon of that same day (for they were afraid of an application to the king on his behalf), he was hurried to the stake immediately after dinner, the fire being prepared before the old College.

Being come to the place of martyrdom, he put off his clothes and gave them to a servant who had been with him of a long time, saying: “This stuff will not help me in the fire, yet will do thee some good. I have no more to leave thee but the ensample of my death—which, I pray thee, keep in mind; for albeit the same be bitter and painful in man’s judgment, yet it is the entrance to everlasting life, which none can inherit who deny Christ before this wicked generation.” Having so said, he commended his soul into the hands of God, with his eyes fixed towards heaven, and being bound to the stake in the midst of some coals, timber, and other combustibles, a train of powder was made, with a design to kindle the fire, but did not succeed, the explosion scorching only one of his hands and his face. In this situation he remained until more powder was brought from the castle; during which time his comfortable and godly speeches were often interrupted, particularly by Friar Campbell calling upon him “to recant, pray to our Lady, and say, Salve regina [‘Hail, Queen’].” Upon being repeatedly disturbed in this manner by Campbell, Patrick Hamilton said: “Thou wicked man, thou knowest that I am not an heretic, and that it is the truth of God for which I now suffer; so much didst thou confess unto me in private, and thereupon I appeal thee to answer before the judgment seat of Christ.” By this time the fire was kindled, and the noble martyr yielded his soul to God, crying out, “How long, O Lord, shall darkness overwhelm this realm? How long wilt thou suffer this tyranny of men?” And then ended his speech with Stephen, saying, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!”

Thus died this noble martyr of Jesus, on the last day of February 1527, in the twenty-fourth year of his age. His death excited very considerable interest, and was overruled by the Sovereign Disposer of all events, in greatly promoting the interests of the Reformation. Says Pinkerton: “The flames in which he expired were in the course of one generation to enlighten all Scotland, and to consume with avenging fury the Catholic superstition, the papal power, and the prelacy itself.”

Friar Campbell soon after became distracted, and died within a year after Hamilton’s martyrdom, under the most awful apprehensions of the Lord’s indignation against him. The Popish clergy abroad congratulated their friends in Scotland upon their zeal for the Romish faith, discovered in the above tragedy; but it rather served the cause of reformation than retarded it; especially when the people began deliberately to compare the behaviour of Patrick Hamilton and Friar Campbell; they were induced to inquire more narrowly into the truth than before. The reader will find a very particular account of the doctrines maintained by Hamilton, in Knox’s History of the Reformation in Scotland, nigh the beginning.

Buy John Howie’s The Scots Worthies (clothbound, 672 pages)

Featured image (visible when article is shared on social media): Public Domain, Patrick Hamilton by Stephen Miller.

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Study material: The Epistle to the Colossians and the Epistle to Philemon

Connection between Colossians and Philemon

The Epistle to the Colossians and the Epistle to Philemon were written at the same time. The same persons—Aristarchus, Mark, Epaphras, Luke and Demas—appear in both epistles in the company of Paul. Col. 4:10–14; Philem. 23, 24. Only Jesus Justus, Col. 4:11, who was probably not known personally to Philemon, Tychicus, the bearer of the Epistle to the Colossians, and Timothy, the associate with Paul in the address of Colossians, are not mentioned in the Epistle to Philemon. It is true, Aristarchus, in Col. 4:10, is designated as Paul’s ‘fellow-prisoner’, while in Philem. 23 this term is applied to Epaphras. Perhaps, however, it is only chance that both terms are not applied to both men in both of the letters. Or else the variation may mean only that the two Epistles were not written on the same day. Aristarchus and Epaphras and others may have taken turns in sharing the apostle’s imprisonment. The two letters, at any rate, even if written on different days, were evidently dispatched at the same time. Onesimus, the bearer of the Epistle to Philemon, was to accompany Tychicus, who was apparently the bearer of the Epistle to the Colossians. Col. 4:7, 8.

The Church at Colossae

The town of Colossae was not a particularly important place, being overshadowed by its two neighbours, Laodicea and Hierapolis. These three cities were situated close together in the Lycus valley, about a hundred miles east of Ephesus. The churches at Colossae and at Laodicea, and no doubt also the one at Hierapolis, had not been founded by Paul himself, Col. 2:1; 4:13. The church at Colossae, however, had been founded by Epaphras, who was one of Paul’s fellow labourers, and probably one of his converts, Col. 1:7. Probably, in preaching at Colossae, Epaphras had acted directly as an emissary of Paul. Evidently Paul reckoned the churches of Colossae, Laodicea and Hierapolis distinctly to his own field. The tone which he adopts toward his readers in Colossians is, for example, entirely different from that which appears in Romans. He treats the Colossians practically as his own spiritual children. See especially Col. 1:24 to 2:5.

In all probability the church had been founded during the three years which Paul spent at Ephesus on the third missionary journey. During that period ‘all they that dwelt in Asia heard the word of the Lord, both Jews and Greeks’. Acts 19:10. Colossae was in the province of Asia, in the Phrygian part of it. Even if ‘Asia’ in the passage in The Acts should be taken in a narrower sense, still the words show at least that the effects of Paul’s preaching in Ephesus spread far beyond the limits of the city. It may well have spread to Colossae, which lay directly on the great road from Ephesus to the east. Probably Epaphras, who was a resident of Colossae, Col. 4:12, was converted during a visit to Ephesus, and then on his return became the evangelist of his native city. The church at Colossae was certainly composed predominantly, if not exclusively, of Gentiles, Col. 1:21, 27; 2:13. Indeed, even Epaphras himself, the founder of the church, was a Gentile; for in Col. 4:10–14 he is distinguished, along with Luke and Demas, from the Jews.

The Date of Colossians and Philemon

The Epistle to the Colossians and that to Philemon were written while Paul was in prison, Col. 4:2, 10, 18; Philem. 1, 9, 23. Yet the conditions of his imprisonment were such as to permit him the companionship of his friends and leisure for correspondence. These conditions were clearly present during the two years of the Roman imprisonment, Acts 28:16, 30, 31. At Caesarea also, Paul seems to have been treated rather leniently, and some scholars have preferred to date our Epistles during the two years which Paul spent there, Acts 24:27. That dating, however, is far less probable. The Epistles may be confidently assigned to the Roman imprisonment.

Condition of the Colossian Church

At the time when Colossians was written, Epaphras, the founder of the Colossian church, was with Paul. He had given a generally favourable account of the progress of the church. Perhaps other and later news had come from other quarters. Onesimus was another Colossian who was with Paul, Col. 4:9; but it is perhaps unlikely that he possessed any very intimate knowledge of the church, because, as we shall see, he did not become a Christian until after he had left Colossae. Not all the news which had been received by Paul from Colossae was satisfactory. False teaching had become prevalent. The nature of this false teaching is very difficult to determine—many different hypotheses have been proposed with regard to it. One thing is clear—the false teachers insisted upon an ascetic manner of life, Col. 2:20-23. ‘Handle not, nor taste, nor touch’, was their ordinance. Apparently they forbade the use of animal food and wine, Col. 2:16. There was also an excessive emphasis upon feast and fast days. The speculative side of their teaching, on the other hand, is obscure. It looks, however, as though they had inordinate reverence for angels, and boasted of higher mysteries to which they had attained. Whether the false teachers were Jews or Gentiles is uncertain. Colossians 2:11-15, which points out the freedom of the Christian from the law and the superiority of baptism over the rites of the Old Covenant, might seem to indicate that the Colossians had been imbued with a false notion of the continued validity of Judaism.

The errorists in Colossae, however, were not Judaizers, as were those of Galatia, for the tone of Paul’s refutation is far milder than in that former case. The Colossian Christians were not being led away from the fundamental principles of the gospel; they were merely being troubled with useless speculations, which would distract their attention from what is essential, and with an alleged higher morality, which would destroy the simplicity of the Christian life. The error was indeed serious enough. That is demonstrated by the history of the Church. Excessive reverence for beings lower than God is always dangerous. Probably the Colossian errorists did not directly attack the supremacy of Christ. Neither did those who afterwards introduced saint-worship into the Catholic Church. But in both cases the effect was to rob Christ of his rightful place in Christian devotion.

Excessive reverence for beings lower than God is always dangerous.

Paul’s Refutation of the Errorists

In refutation, Paul proceeds positively rather than negatively. Instead of filling his letter with invective, he points out the all-sufficiency of what the Colossians have already received, in order to prevent them from seeking anything new. They have already been delivered from the power of darkness, Col. 1:13. They are already in full possession of the mystery, vs. 25-27; ch. 2:2, 3. They are already free from the world, and have a new life in Christ, ch. 2:11–15, 20; 3:1–4. There is therefore no need for a supposed higher, ascetic manner of life, and no need for abstruse speculations. No manner of life can be higher than that which is described in Col. 3:1 to 4:2; no mystery can be profounder than the mystery of Christ. The speculations about angels, in particular, are refuted not so much by direct attack, as by an emphasis upon the supremacy of Christ. If Christ is what he is declared to be in Col. 1:13-23; 2.8-15, then there is no need for a worship of angels. Here lies what is really distinctive of the Epistle to the Colossians. In the previous letters, a lofty view of the person of Christ was always presupposed, but there was no occasion to set it forth in detail. At last the occasion had arrived.

The Christology of Colossians

The Epistle to the Colossians is peculiarly ‘Christological’. More fully and more expressly than in any other of his letters Paul here develops his view about the person of Christ. Even here, however, this teaching is incidental; it was simply Paul’s way of refuting certain errors that had crept into the Colossian church. Except for those errors Paul would perhaps never have written at length, as he does in Col. 1:14–23, about the relation of Christ to God and to the world. Yet in that case his own views would have been the same, and they would have been just as fundamental to his whole religious life. In the epistles, which are written to Christians, Paul takes many things for granted. Some of the things which are most fundamental appear only incidentally. Just because they were fundamental, just because they were accepted by everyone, they did not need to be discussed at length.

So it is especially with the person of Christ. From the first epistle to the last, Paul presupposes essentially the same view of that great subject. Practically everything that he says in Colossians could have been inferred from scattered hints in the earlier epistles. From the beginning Paul regarded Jesus Christ as a man, who had a real human life and died a real death on the cross. From the beginning, on the other hand, he separated Christ sharply from men and placed him clearly on the side of God.

From the beginning, in other words, he attributed to him a double nature—Jesus Christ was always in Paul’s thinking both God and man. Finally, the pre-existence of Christ, which is so strongly emphasized in Colossians, is clearly implied in such passages as Gal. 4:4; and his activity in creation appears, according to the best-attested text, in I Cor. 8:6.

Nevertheless, the more systematic exposition in Colossians is of the utmost value. It serves to summarize and explain the scattered implications of the earlier epistles. Christ according to Paul is, in the first place, ‘the image of the invisible God’. Col. 1:15. He is the supreme Revealer of God, a Revealer, however, not merely by words but by his own nature. If you want to know what God is, look upon Christ! In the second place, he is ‘the firstborn of all creation’. Of itself that phrase might be misconstrued. It might be thought to mean that Christ was the first being that God created. Any such interpretation, however, is clearly excluded by the three following verses. There Paul has himself provided an explanation of his puzzling phrase. ‘The firstborn of all creation’ means that Christ, himself uncreated, existed before all created things; he was prior to all things, and, as befits an only son, he possesses all things. Indeed he himself was active in the creation of all things, not only the world, and men, but also those angelic powers—’thrones or dominions or principalities or powers’—upon whom the errorists in Colossae were inclined to lay too much emphasis. He was the instrument of God the Father in creation. And he was also the end of creation. The world exists not for its own sake, but for the sake of Christ. Especially is he the Head of the Church. His headship is declared by his being the first to rise from the dead into that glorious life into which he will finally bring all his disciples. In a word, the entire ‘fulness’ of the divine nature dwells in Christ. That word ‘fulness’ was much misused in the ‘Gnostic’ speculations of the second century. It is barely possible that the word had already been employed in the incipient Gnosticism of the Colossian errorists. If so, Paul by his repeated use of the word in Colossians and Ephesians, is bringing his readers back to a healthier and simpler and grander conception.

The Person of Christ and the Work of Christ

In Col. 1:20–23, Paul bases upon the preceding exposition of the nature of Christ, a noble description of Christ’s work. The work which has been entrusted to Christ is nothing less than that of reconciling the creation unto God. Through sin, an enmity had been set up between God and the work of his hands. That enmity applies primarily of course to the sinful persons themselves. They are under God’s wrath and curse. Sin is not a trifle. It cannot simply be treated as though it had never been. If God be righteous, then there is such a thing as a moral order. The wrath of God rests upon the sinner. But by the sacrifice of Christ, that enmity has been wiped out. Christ has paid the awful penalty of sin. Christ has brought the sinner again near to God. The enmity and the following reconciliation concern primarily the men who have sinned. But they also apply to the whole world. The ground has been cursed for man’s sake. The end of the reconciliation will be a new heaven and a new earth. The groaning and travailing of the creation will one day have an end. Compare Rom. 8:18–25. This brief description of the work of Christ in Col. 1:20–22; 2:10–15, can be richly paralleled in the earlier epistles. What now needs to be emphasized is that the Pauline view of Christ’s work depends absolutely upon the Pauline view of Christ’s person. All through the epistles of Paul the life and death and resurrection are represented as events of a cosmic significance. But they can have such significance only if Christ is the kind of being that is described in the Epistle to the Colossians. The glorious account of salvation, which runs all through the epistles and forms the especial subject of the second group, is unintelligible if Christ were merely an inspired prophet or merely the greatest of created beings. It becomes intelligible only if Christ is ‘the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation’. The mysterious Christology of Colossians lies at the very heart of the Christian faith.

All through the epistles of Paul the life and death and resurrection are represented as events of a cosmic significance. But they can have such significance only if Christ is the kind of being that is described in the Epistle to the Colossians.

The Epistle to Philemon

The Epistle to the Colossians, though addressed to a church that Paul had never visited, is full of warm-hearted affection. Paul could hardly have been cold and formal if he had tried. He was a man of great breadth of sympathy. Hence he was able to enter with the deepest interest into the problems of the Colossian Christians to rejoice at their faith and love, to lament their faults, and to labour with whole-souled devotion for their spiritual profit. The simple, unconstrained affection of Paul’s nature, however, had freer scope in the delightful little letter to Philemon. Philemon apparently was a convert of Paul himself, Philem. 19. He was not a man with whom Paul had to be on his guard. Paul is perfectly confident that Philemon will fully understand the motives of his action and of his letter.

The letter is addressed to Philemon primarily, but also to Apphia and to Archippus and to the church in Philemon’s house. We are here introduced into a Christian household of the apostolic age. Apphia was probably Philemon’s wife and Archippus perhaps his son. Evidently Archippus held some sort of office in the Colossian church. ‘Say to Archippus,’ says Paul in a strangely emphatic way, at the very end of the Epistle to the Colossians, ‘Take heed to the ministry which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfil it.’ We should like to know what the ministry was which Archippus had received. At any rate, we hope that he fulfilled it. It was a solemn warning which he received–a warning which might well have made him tremble. We also may well take the warning to heart. Our task of imparting Bible truth is no light responsibility. To us also the warning comes, ‘Take heed to the ministry which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfil it.’ The letter is addressed not only to Philemon and his family, but also to the ‘church’ which met in his house. This ‘church’ was a part of the Colossian congregation. In the early days, when it was difficult to secure meeting places, well-to-do Christians frequently offered the hospitality of their own homes. A certain Nympha or Nymphas—the name varies in the manuscripts—performed this service in Laodicea, Col. 4:15, Aquila and Priscilla in Corinth, I Cor. 16:19, and also Gaius in the same city, Rom. 16:23. The occasion of the Epistle to Philemon is very simple. Onesimus, a slave of Philemon, had run away from his master, possibly appropriating some of his master’s money, Philem. 18. In some way he had come to Rome and had been converted by Paul. Paul would have liked to keep him as a helper. But that was not Paul’s way. Instead, he sent the slave back at once to his master. Christianity was to be no excuse for shirking the duties of the various relationships of society as it was then constituted. The freedom of the Christian was an inward freedom. It was fully consistent with the faithful performance of common duty. The letter which Paul gave to Onesimus, asking forgiveness and bespeaking an affectionate welcome for one who was now a brother as well as a servant, is a delightful little letter, simple and affectionate as the occasion required, but by no means belying the great apostle. In the simplest affairs of life, Paul was always both the true gentleman and the unswerving minister of a transcendent gospel.

Topics for Study

I. Summarize Colossians and Philemon in your own words.

2. What does Colossians teach about the nature of Christ? Show how this teaching is presupposed in the earlier epistles (two topics).

3. Summarize the false teaching combatted in Colossians.

4. Give some account of Colossae, Hierapolis, Laodicea, Aristarchus, Mark, Luke, Demas, Archippus, Philemon (about three topics).

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‘Of the making of many books, there is no end’ (Eccles. 12:12). What you are holding in your hand is not so much an illustration of the inspired statement—though it is that—but, rather, a topical guide to the many volumes of timeless wisdom and practical insights of one of the great champions of biblical truth.

I first became aware of the writings of J. C. Ryle (1816–1900) in my father’s study. Among the books lining his shelves was Ryle’s Holiness: Its Nature, Hindrances, Difficulties and Roots. I did not begin reading it at that time, sadly, but I do recall looking at the chapter headings and thinking that I should. This thought would bear fruit years later in the midst of a busy preaching and teaching ministry.

Pastors and teachers should consult the written wisdom of the past for deeper understanding of the biblical truths they are preparing to explain in the present. In the writings of J. C. Ryle readers have found faithful biblical wisdom and searching applications that aim at the heart. Such were the gifts the Spirit gave him. ‘The characteristics of Bishop Ryle’s method and style are obvious,’ wrote Dr Martyn Lloyd-Jones. ‘He is pre-eminently and always scriptural and expository. He never starts with a theory into which he tries to fit various scriptures. He always starts with the word and expounds it. It is exposition at its very best and highest. It is always clear and logical and invariably leads to a clear enunciation of doctrine.’¹ Ryle’s expositions of Scripture and articulation of biblical doctrines were equally well-informed by the writings of the great theologians of the past. One need only glance through the notes of his Expository Thoughts on the Gospels to see that he took time to study the reasoned positions of others, before putting his own to paper.

Not only were biblical fidelity and practical applications hallmarks of his work, but the doctrines he unfolded often came in lively, vivid, and memorable language. His writing has been described as having a ‘brisk, blunt style, pungent and persuasive, made up of short, abrupt, in-your-face sentences.’² Ryle wasted no words and used no filler materials to pad his arguments and exhortations. What he pressed upon aspiring preachers, he himself practised in the pulpit and also in the study. ‘He is the best speaker who can turn the ear into an eye.’³ His books, many of which are compilations of tracts reworked from sermons, are illustrative of this conviction. He honed his God-given skills in such a way so as to make deep truths accessible to broad audiences and with a sense of urgency.⁴ As J. I. Packer observed, ‘his down-to-earth illustrations and rhetorical emphases gave a sense of the drama, the dangers, the challenges, glories and joys of life under the eye and hand of the God of the gospel; and thus, in a word, he communicated brilliantly at [the] popular level.’⁵ The net result is that more than one hundred years after the first Bishop of Liverpool’s entrance into glory on 10 June 1900, those who read him will be anything but disappointed. It is the aim of this anthology to encourage readers, old and new alike, to pick up Ryle’s many volumes and spiritually profit from them.

Reflecting back on the many hours reading thousands of his pages, if there were two things that stand out like jewels in his crown, they were Ryle’s unflagging determination to tell us the terrible truth about ourselves, and to point us to Jesus. And this, after all, is what faithful ministers of the gospel aim to do (Acts 5:42; Rom. 15:20; 1 Cor. 1:23; Phil. 1:18), yes, must do. In this, the great expounder of biblical truth is a faithful example for us to follow. To pastors and teachers of God’s word, it is my hope that this selection of quotations will prove useful in your studies and helpful in your teaching and preaching. If new generations of pastors, Bible students, teachers, and, indeed, believers in general are introduced to Ryle’s writings through this book, I will be grateful to have played a small part in pointing the way.

There have been a number of people who have encouraged me in the creation of this anthology. Were it not for the help of David Davis giving me many of the Banner of Truth’s volumes of Ryle, and the encouragement of Jeremy Baker, Weston Stoler, Clayton Willis, Bulut Yasar and others with whom I shared so many Ryle quotations, this work may have remained on my laptop’s hard drive for my own personal benefit and that of the congregations I served. I am particularly grateful to my family for giving me the extra time to read and compile this book of quotes, and to Rev. Jonathan Watson, the Banner of Truth’s senior editor, for his kind encouragement.

Daniel McManigal

Florida

May 2025

The Truth Spoken in Love: An Anthology of Quotations from J. C. Ryle releases on September 22. You can sign up for the Waitlist to be notified as soon as it is available for order.

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Fred Sanders is one of the leading contemporary evangelical voices on the doctrine of the Trinity and contributions by him on any matter related to trinitarian theology are to be welcomed. However, as this volume is in many respects an engagement with contemporary scholarship (with all that entails), this is not his most accessible work. Still, it repays careful reading.

Sanders’ main concern in this work is to bring together two doctrines which should never be separated—those of the Trinity and salvation. In pursuing this goal, Sanders covers areas such as ‘The Trinity as the Norm for Soteriology,’ ‘Trinity and Atonement,’ ‘Salvation and the Eternal Generation of the Son,’ and ‘Salvation and the Eternal Procession of the Spirit.’ His treatment of the importance of eternal generation is a highlight of the book, as is his concluding chapter, ‘Retrieval and the Doctrine of the Trinity.’ This chapter is, perhaps, the most evaluative in the book and highlights problems with many modern trinitarian constructions and historical narratives.

This book will further enhance Sanders’ reputation as a theologian of the Trinity, and rightly so. Nevertheless, it raises at least two important questions. First, there seems to be a risk of undermining the importance of genuine soteriological differences, or at least subordinating them to a common trinitarian orthodoxy. Consider the statement, ‘the health of the doctrine of the Trinity is a good indicator of the overall vigour and balance of a theological system’ (27). Well, yes, it is a necessary indicator, but not a sufficient indicator of good theological health. A common trinitarian orthodoxy is shared by the Westminster Confession and by the Council of Trent, but hardly an equally vigorous and balanced theological system.

The second relates to the nature of academic theological writing. A dizzying array of conversation partners fills the book. From deeply orthodox figures to heterodox theologians (particularly the chapter on ‘The Modern Trinity’), to traditional and modern Roman Catholic theologians. But there is little to indicate the chasm between these figures on the very principia of theology. If there is a material divergence on the principium cognoscendi externum (revelation) or the principium cognoscendi internum (faith), then dialogue as equal ecumenical conversation partners is impossible. Reformed theology has gladly acknowledged all truth as God’s truth, and been happy to plunder the Egyptians, but it is another thing to treat them as fellow labourers in ‘the household of God, which is the church of the living God, a pillar and buttress of the truth’ (1 Tim. 3:15).

Also in this issue (October 2025):

• John Fullerton MacArthur Jr. (1939–2025) — Sinclair B. Ferguson
• John Calvin on the Salvation of Our Children — Mark R. Larson
• The Work of Angels in the Life of Our Lord — Mark Rowcroft
• Short reviews of works by David Mathis, D. Eryl Davies, and Jay Sklar

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Lelio Sozzini did not show all the signs of full-blown heresy from the beginning. Indeed, he was known to and friendly with the reformers Philipp Melanchthon and Heinrich Bullinger, and his fellow countryman Girolamo Zanchi. That said, a letter from John Calvin’s pen shows that the great reformer knew about and was disconcerted by Sozzini’s attraction to curious questioning and speculation.

One cannot fail to note Calvin’s extreme disquietude as he responded to Sozzini in the following manner in 1551:

You are deceived in so far as you entertain the impression that Melanchthon does not agree with us on the doctrine of predestination. I only said briefly that I had a letter written by his own hand, in which he confessed that his opinion agreed with mine. But I can believe all you say, as it is nothing new for him to elude in this matter, the better to rid himself of troublesome inquiries.

Certainly no one can be more averse to paradox than I am, and in subtleties I find no delight at all. Yet nothing shall ever hinder me from openly avowing what I have learned from the word of God; for nothing but what is useful is taught in the school of this master. It is my only guide, and to acquiesce in its plain doctrines shall be my constant rule of wisdom.

I would that you also, my dear Lelio, would learn to regulate your powers with the same moderation! You have no reason to expect a reply from me so long as you bring forward those monstrous questions. If you are gratified by floating among those aerial speculations, permit me, I beseech you, an humble disciple of Christ, to meditate on those things which tend towards the building up of my faith. And indeed I shall hereafter follow out my wishes in silence, that you may not be troubled by me. And in truth, I am very greatly grieved that the fine talents with which God has endowed you, should be occupied not only with what is vain and fruitless, but that they should also be injured by pernicious figments. What I warned you of long ago, I must again seriously repeat, that unless you correct in time this itching after investigation, it is to be feared you will bring upon yourself severe suffering. I should be cruel towards you did I treat with a show of indulgence what I believe to be a very dangerous error. I should prefer, accordingly, offending you a little at present by my severity, rather than allow you to indulge unchecked in the fascinating allurements of curiosity. The time will come, I hope, when you will rejoice in having been so violently admonished. Adieu, brother very highly esteemed by me; and if this rebuke is harsher than it ought to be, ascribe it to my love to you.²

Sadly it would seem that Sozzini did not take the reformer’s warning to heart. The great Scottish theologian William Cunningham noted the following about the men who pursued the heresies inherent in Socinianism:

They were men who had come, in the exercise of their natural reason, to see the folly and absurdity of much of the Popish system, without having been brought under the influence of truly religious impressions, or having been led to adopt a right method of investigating divine truth. They seem to have been men who were full of self-confidence, proud of their own powers of speculation and argument, and puffed up by a sense of their own elevation above the mass of follies and absurdities which they saw prevailing around them in the Church of Rome; and this natural tendency of the men, and the sinful state of mind which it implied or produced, were the true and proper causes of the errors and heresies into which they fell.³

May we all guard our hearts from such self-confidence and vanity, and heed the words of the Holy Spirit spoken through James:

‘Therefore put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls. But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.’ (James 1:21, 22)

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Introduction

The Council of Nicaea, the first ecumenical council,¹ was convened in AD 325 to address the threat posed by the teachings of an Alexandrian presbyter called Arius, who had asserted that the Son was created, and so was not co-eternal with the Father. However, before we assess its work we need to set the conflict in the wider context.

Elsewhere, I have distinguished between the doctrine of the Trinity and the Trinity itself.² God eternally is, and he always is trinity. From eternity he is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, one indivisible being, three irreducible subsistent ‘persons.’ He has made this known progressively in Scripture, in latent form in the Old Testament, for the overwhelming stress then was on the uniqueness of Yahweh in the context of the polytheism of the surrounding nations. In the New Testament, while mainly implicit, it is pervasive and notably un-self-conscious, indicating that it was part of the received knowledge of the church, without need for explanation, defence or fanfare.

However, the doctrine of the Trinity, the developed formulation of what the church understands God to have revealed himself to be, with language stretched and refined to express the reality of God’s self-disclosure, resulted from prolonged reflection on the biblical record. Moreover, it emerged from a response to erroneous ideas that imperilled the gospel.

In short, the Bible does not present us with formalized, scientific definitions of doctrine; that has become the task of the church as it defends the gospel and rejects error.

Two deviant tendencies

Until the early fourth century there were two potentially deviant tendencies affecting the church’s grasp of the Trinity. The first was modalism, which blurred the distinctions of the three persons. In the third century, Sabellius held that the Father, the Son, and the Spirit were merely ways in which the one God revealed himself, like an actor taking on different roles. He maintained that the only God, Father in the Old Testament, had become Son in the New Testament and sanctified the church as Holy Spirit after Pentecost. The three were successive modes of the unipersonal God. Consequently, Christ was merely an appearance of the one God, hardly different than a theophany, with no distinct personal identity. With modalism, God’s revelation in human history as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit did not reveal who he is eternally, and so Christ gives us no true knowledge of God. Moreover, this claim  undermined God’s faithfulness, for we could not rely on him if what he disclosed of himself in Christ did not truly reflect who he eternally is. Tertullian countered modalism in his book Contra Praxeas. Later, Paul of Samosata was condemned on these grounds at the Council of Antioch in 268.

On the other side of the spectrum were those who, recognizing the distinctions of the three, accorded a lesser status to the Son and the Spirit. They held that God was an hierarchical being. This was endemic at the time, for the conceptual and linguistic resources did not exist to distinguish between the way God is one and the way he is three. It was an unstable situation, for unless the Son and the Spirit were held to be fully God, there could be no viable proclamation of the gospel—for we would not have true knowledge of God. If Christ were not unimpaired God, he could not save us; if the Spirit were a creature, how could he deify us? was asked in reply.

Modalism and subordinationism were attempts to make the Trinity intelligible to human reason. We would be left with the one God, the Son and the Holy Spirit as temporary appearances, or a graded deity, with Son and Spirit semi-divine. This mix was a time-bomb, destined sooner or later to explode. The chief problem was how to reconcile the unity of the one God with the status of Christ.³

Arius

Suddenly, bursting on the scene in 318 came an Alexandrian presbyter called Arius, a charismatic figure, popular with women, and the composer of what would today be called praise songs, based on sea shanties. Heretics are usually popular, or their views would not be propagated; Scripture prioritizes faithfulness over dynamism.

Arius left little in the way of writing—a song, a scrap or two—so we learn what he taught largely from those who opposed him and from the decrees of Nicaea. He maintained that the Son was not co-eternal with the Father, came into existence out of nothing, and was a creature. Therefore, for Arius, God was not Father eternally any more than a man is a father before he begets his son. The Son had an origin, ex nihilo. At some point he did not exist, and now exists by the will of God. God used the Son as an intermediary to create other entities; so God is effectively at arm’s-length from the creation. Hence, the Son is a different being from the Father, for the Father is his God. Jesus’s statement ‘I and the Father are one’ (John 10:30) he took to mean a harmonious agreement of will, not identity of being. The Son was an assistant to the Father, operating under orders. Thus the monarchy, oneness in rule, of God was preserved, since the Son was and is not true God.

This was a threat to the gospel. Providentially, the church had been legalized by Constantine only a few years earlier and so the convening of a major council was less of a problem than it might have been before.

The Council

The creed of Nicaea

We know little of the proceedings of the Council of Nicaea, at which Arius was condemned and exiled. One thing we do know is that, contrary to popular mythology, Athanasius was not a major player. True, he was present as secretary to Alexander, the bishop of Alexandria, Arius’s principal opponent, but he was still quite young and did not become bishop until Alexander died in 328.

One of the few items of which we have clear evidence is the creed.⁴ This is not what we call the Nicene Creed, which is the product of the later Council of Constantinople in 381, although it did provide the basis for the later declaration. This earlier creed is as follows:

We believe in one God, Father Almighty, maker of all things, seen and unseen:

And in one Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God, begotten as only-begotten of the Father, that is of the substance (ousia) of the Father, God of God, Light of Light, true God of true God, begotten not made, consubstantial with the Father, through whom all things came into existence, both things in heaven and things on earth; who for us men and for our salvation came down and was incarnate and became man, suffered and rose again the third day, ascended into the heavens, is coming to judge the living and the dead:

And in the Holy Spirit.

But those who say, ‘there was a time when he did not exist,’ and ‘Before being begotten he did not exist,’ and that he came into being from non-existence, or who allege that the Son of God is of another hypostasis or ousia, or who is alterable or changeable, these the Catholic and Apostolic Church condemns.

The phrase referring to the Son being ‘of the being (ousia) of the Father’ was an innovation. Athanasius tells us how it was included. When it was proposed that the Son was ‘from God,’ Arius’s sympathizers agreed since they accepted that all creatures come from God. Therefore, in order to say that the Son is indivisible from the being of the Father, always in the Father and the Father always in the Son, the bishops were forced to use extra-biblical terms to convey ‘the sense of Scripture,’ realizing that express biblical language alone could not distinguish the truth from the false teaching they opposed.⁵ Together with the allied expression ‘consubstantial (homoousios) with the Father,’ this phrase created a mountain of ambiguity and proved a major bone of contention in the following decades. The problem was the range of meanings ousia had at the time. It could mean generic nature (what is common to the three), asserting that the Son is of the same nature as the Father. However, it could instead refer to a specific individual nature (what is peculiar to one of the three), meaning that the Son is of the same hypostasis as (identical to) the Father, which sounds modalist, erasing any distinctions between them. The final anathema seems to reinforce this latter possibility, for it repudiates the claim that the Son is of another hypostasis or ousia than the Father. In that sense, the terms ousia and hypostasis are apparently synonyms, as they were generally at the time. Eventually, the Council of Constantinople (381) was to use hypostasis for the three, so Nicaea’s assertion that the Son is of the same hypostasis as the Father was by then rejected.

On a central, but less disputed point, the phrase ‘begotten, not created’ opposed Arius’s claim that the Son was a creature, by distinguishing generation from creation. The word homoousios (of the identical being) was used, since Arius could not apply it to the relationships of creatures to the Father, but this word was not clearly defined and would be problematic for some time, until Basil the Great proposed clearer semantic distinctions in the 370s.⁶

Decisions

The council outlawed the teaching of Arius. It was seen as a dire threat to the gospel. In doing so it affirmed emphatically that the Son is of the identical being with the Father, underpinning, inter multa alia, such statements of Jesus that ‘I and the Father are one’ (John 10:30) and his comment to Philip, ‘He who has seen me has seen the Father’ (John 14:9). Simultaneously, it deposed Arius, who was not a bishop but a presbyter, from the ministry. In 337, his supporters enabled him to be received back into the church, but on the very day his reception was to happen, he died suddenly, collapsing into a latrine, an event his opponents regarded as a singularly appropriate act of God’s providence. In short, Nicaea’s main achievement was to place on record once and for all that the Son is nothing less than of identical being to the Father, dealing a mortal blow to subordinationism.

Ambiguities

Unsurprisingly, the monarchians, led by Marcellus of Ancyra, were happiest. He and his supporters maintained that there was one hypostasis in God, a claim that struck many at the time as outrageously modalist. Later in the century, when hypostasis was reserved for the three and distinguished from the one being or essence (ousia), such a claim was condemned. That time had not yet come.

However, did the creed really open the door to modalism? After all, many at the council vigorously opposed it. Probably, its intention was to say that the Son came from the Father’s person, since the Father begat the Son and the two are of the same being. Notwithstanding, it became a major source of confusion. Overall, in Hanson’s words, ‘the ancients did not suffer from the same passion for exact accuracy which modern scholarship displays.’⁷

Yet Eusebius of Caesarea, author of the famous history of the church, who supported Arius, also signed the document! He and others considered that the phrase ‘begotten not made’ distinguished the Son from the creatures made through the Son. For Eusebius, the Son is probably a creature, but is not to be called ‘something made.’ The Creed’s condemnation of ‘before he was begotten he did not exist’ he defended on the ground that everyone accepted the Son to have existed before the incarnation, which—so he argued—was when he was begotten.⁸

The Council’s ambiguity allowed a wide variety of people to accept the creed. In the background loomed the powerful presence of Constantine, determined to achieve as widespread agreement as possible for the sake of imperial unity.

In short, Nicaea bequeathed to the church a lexical minefield that caused much turmoil and many casualties in the decades ahead. The following were the principal ambiguities.

Hypostasis/ousia

These were used interchangeably in Greek and by the Greek fathers. For many, they were synonyms. Their eventual meanings (person/being) were not what anyone understood by them for most of the fourth century, and it is anachronistic to project these meanings back to the earlier time when they do not apply.

There was not then a single word for what God is as three that could command wide, let alone universal, agreement. The word hypostasis in Greek philosophy from 50 b. c. had different meanings for Stoics than it had for neo-Platonists, although in general it meant ‘realization turning into appearance.’⁹ In the New Testament it means confidence (e.g., Heb. 11:1) but on one occasion (Heb. 1:3) it refers to the Son as the ‘impression of nature’ of God.

Thus, at the time of Nicaea (1) hypostasis/ousia could be synonyms and used to describe either what God is as three or what he is as one; (2) hypostasis could refer to the three and ousia be either ignored or rejected; (3) hypostasis could be used for ‘distinct existence’ and ousia for ‘nature’; (4) or uncertainty could prevail. Sometimes single writers moved from one meaning to the other. Not only was there no commonly agreed term for the three but the concept itself had barely appeared on the theological radar.

Genetos/gennetos, agenetos/agennetos

Genetos (having come into existence, and thus created) and agenetos (that which has never not existed, never had a beginning, for it has existed eternally) are one pair of antonyms, as are the almost matching gennetos (generated, begotten) and agennetos (ingenerate, unbegotten). The close similarity of spellings and meanings was another massive source of confusion and contention. In the third century there had never been a clear distinction between something created and something generated. Arius used the two pairs interchangeably for Christ, for he saw him as a creature. Athanasius, in an early work, was also confused.¹⁰ The opponents of Arius had to say that the Son was both agenetos (eternal) and gennetos (begotten of the Father)—gennetos non genetos (begotten, not created).

Hanson remarks, ‘People holding different views were using the same words as those who opposed them, but, unawares, giving them different meanings from those applied to them by their opponents.’¹¹ Ayres comments, ‘Nicaea’s terminology is thus a window onto the confusion and complexity of the early fourth-century theological debates, not a revelation that a definitive turning-point had been reached.’¹² If we add the bewildering speed of events—ecclesiastical, political and theological—it is no wonder the mess took over fifty years to clear. These were muddled times. Isn’t life like that? Yet through it all a solution was reached—but not at Nicaea.

Aftermath

The details, historical and theological, of the period following Nicaea are bewildering, full of labyrinthine complexities. Political intrigue was never far from the fore. The literature describes these machinations in their often sordid detail. The situation was fluid, constantly changing, and the various parties are nowhere near as clear-cut as any classification implies.¹³

An immediate problem was Marcellus. His most emphatic belief was that God is one hypostasis in one ousia. The Son is a word only. The Logos is united to God, eternal, ‘put forth,’ not begotten, one and the same thing as God, silent in the Father. The Logos is only called Son after the incarnation. While God is called by the names Father and Son, there is only one hypostasis and only one ousia, homoousios meaning for him ‘of identical being,’ so that the Son is identical to the Father. The three are names only. This sounds, and in reality is, modalist, and he pointed to Nicaea in support, due to its equation of hypostasis and ousia.¹⁴ A significant group were sympathetic to Marcellus. Not until Constantinople I (381), when hypostasis was reserved for the three and distinguished from the one being or essence (ousia), was there a decisive rebuttal.

Nicaea did not end the Arian crisis—it merely confirmed its existence. By mid-century, more able figures than Arius arose to advance ideas similar to his. Further acute discord wracked the church before the Council of Constantinople resolved the matter.

Nicaea’s failure was largely due to linguistic and terminological problems, the lack of a clearly and commonly recognized vocabulary and an agreed theological grammar upon which consensus could be reached. This is the consequence of the church being composed of humans—new issues often take time to work out; bringing new articulation, in acceptable and watertight ways, to what is believed and confessed does not happen overnight. It requires hard work, rigorous critical thought, tough mindedness, patience, persistence, and a willingness to engage with opposing ideas—a combination of gentle persuasion of some and firm rebuttal of others, suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. For this, later in the fourth century, Athanasius paved the way, to be fostered and completed by the three Cappadocians: Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, and especially Gregory of Nazianzus. The crisis over Arius was initially and imperfectly parried at Nicaea, but not brought to resolution until several decades later.

Robert Letham is Senior Research Fellow and retired Professor of Systematic and Historical Theology at Union School of Theology, Wales. He now resides in the USA as a minister emeritus of the OPC (Orthodox Presbyterian Church). He is the author of The Work of Christ (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1993), Through Western Eyes: Eastern Orthodoxy—A Reformed Perspective (Fearn, Scotland: Mentor, 2007) and The Holy Trinity: in Scripture, History, Theology and Worship (2004, rev. Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2019) among other books.

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Dr Arnold Dallimore of Cottam, Ontario, the author of the two-volume biography, George Whitefield (Banner of Truth, vol.1, 1970; vol.2, 1980) was one of many authors helped and encouraged by Dr Lloyd-Jones, as numbers of unpublished letters from ML-J to him show. The first was dated February 5, 1960. In the last of November 24, 1980, less than four months before his death, ML-J wrote, ‘I rejoice in the fact that I was able to play some small part in helping in the production of your two most excellent volumes on Whitefield, and I am glad to hear they are selling so well.’ ‘Small part’ was a considerable understatement. When Dallimore first visited England in 1959 he had already prepared a good deal of a life of Whitefield. But that visit, further research and study which followed, and the urging of the Banner of Truth Trust, led him to envisage a much larger work. In a letter to ML-J of March 14, 1963, he explained why the biography had become ‘a long drawn-out affair’. One reason was, ‘Upon returning from England [in 1959], I scrapped what I had previously written, and started afresh.’ At that point in 1963 there were hopes that the first volume would be out by December 1964, the 250th anniversary of Whitefield’s birth. In fact it was not to appear till 1970. Various problems impeded the writing. One was the fact that the author was in a pastoral charge until 1973; another that S. M. Houghton, the Trust’s senior adviser, set very high standards, and he and Iain Murray were particularly concerned that, in his concern to give Whitefield his true place in the Evangelical Revival, Arnold Dallimore verged on discrediting John Wesley’s importance. On all these and other problems the author sought ML-J’s advice, and the latter, more than once, was put into a mediating role with the Trust’s editors. Happily differences were finally settled, more or less to the satisfaction of all. The following is an example of the kind of help ML-J gave. In 1976, when Volume 2 was in progress, Dallimore sent him some draft chapters of volume two and raised particular points for his comment. ML-J replied on December 1, 1976:

With regard to the medical questions you put to me I fear I cannot agree with your conclusions.

With regard to Whitefield what you describe is clearly not ‘cardiac asthma’. This condition never lasts 22 years and is generally a terminal event. I have always believed that Whitefield eventually died of it but, as you say, it could not have lasted from 1748 to 1770. What happened to him then on this occasion? The puzzling element is the vomiting of blood. That does not occur in any heart condition, and I do not recall that he had symptoms that would indicate a gastric ulcer. My suggested explanation is as follows: The pain on breathing again is not consistent with any heart condition such as a coronary condition; but taking that plus the hoarseness and strained throat which he describes I come to the conclusion that he must have had a burst blood vessel in his throat, that he swallowed the blood and then vomited it again. Then, having rested himself and having refrained from preaching, this recovered, and so he was able to go on preaching for over 22 years. I remember how this kind of thing happened to the great tenor Caruso who frequently tended to strain himself and his throat while singing. It was that that eventually led to his death.²

With regard to Howell Harris, again I am not happy about your theory.³ The account of the incident and his making light of it clearly indicates that he never even suffered from concussion, and I am not aware that such an incident leads to mental trouble. What it does lead to sometimes is a tumour on the brain, but I am not aware that he ever gave any symptoms of that. My view of what happened to Harris during that period is that it is rightly explained by nervous exhaustion and what is virtually a nervous breakdown. His behaviour fits that perfectly, and explains his obstinacy in continuing to preach about the blood of God, and his increasing feeling that everyone was turning against him and failing to understand him, and especially as they tried to persuade him to do less. This in turn made him a ready prey to Madam Griffith and her adulation of him. It is all a part of the well known picture in such cases. It is interesting to note that a similar breakdown occurred in Evan Roberts who was so prominent in the last Welsh Revival of 1904/5. The same happened also in the case of a man called Humphrey Jones, who was the means under God of bringing the Revival of 1857 from the USA to Wales, and there are other examples also, as you will agree. I feel that your references to Harris and Madam Griffith are somewhat misleading and might well lead people to the conclusion that there was something morally wrong. Gomer Roberts has clearly demonstrated that there was nothing wrong in that respect, and I believe this is generally accepted now . . .

The correspondence between Dallimore and ML-J indicates the immense labour involved in taking on such a major biography. As the work went on it grew, and anticipated finishing dates were to be changed many times. ML-J well understood the difficulty of combining a pastoral charge with authorship. He commented to Dallimore in a letter of August 28, 1968:

I am glad you confirm the wisdom of my retiring from Westminster Chapel. What really finally decided me to do this was the feeling that I should bring out in book form some of the material I have gathered during the years and especially what I have tried to do on the Epistle to the Romans.

As Lloyd-Jones settled down to more desk work it was his turn to receive encouragement from his Canadian correspondent. In a letter of April 30, 1973, he replied to Dallimore:

It was very good indeed of you to write in this way. It not only warmed my heart but encourages me in bringing out these books, which I find to be a considerable ‘weariness to the flesh’.

Reading these letters now, we can be thankful that both men sacrificed themselves to enrich the church with books of enduring value.

Arnold Dallimore’s biography of Whitefield:

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The world is a needy place; it lies in darkness and the only remedy is gospel light. This should weigh on us, as it weighted on the Lord Jesus. As he himself was engaged in preaching the good news (Matt. 9:35), he was struck with the lostness of those before him and was moved with compassion, viewing the crowds as ‘harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd’ (Matt. 9:36). The sense of the greatness of the need led the Lord to exclaim, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few’ (Matt. 9:37). A shortage of gospel preachers marked our Lord’s day.

It also marks ours. This has been highlighted, for example, by The Gospel Coalition in their article ‘The Coming Pastoral Shortage,’¹ and I am sure we all see and feel it in our own contexts. But why are we in this position and what can we do about it?

Prayer

As has often been said, ‘You can do more than pray after you have prayed, but you cannot do more than pray until you have prayed.’ The root cause, then, of the relative lack of gospel ministers has first to be addressed by prayer. This is the remedy the Lord Jesus suggests: ‘therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest’ (Matt. 9:38). A lack of gospel ministers should drive us to prayer. But does it?

In the lives of our churches, how many pastoral prayers cry out for the next generation of ministers? How many men and women in our prayer meetings or small groups regularly call upon God to thrust men into gospel ministry? In our family and personal prayers, how often does this petition feature? For parents, what are we praying for our sons—are we asking God that he might call them to gospel ministry? William Perkins says, ‘Fathers should learn to consecrate their children to God for the work of the ministry.’² If we are falling short in these things, we should recommit ourselves to prayer.

Desire

Paul says in 1 Tim. 3:1, ‘The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to [or desires] the office of overseer [elder], he desires a noble task.’ A lack of men coming forward for the ministry surely indicates a lack of desire for the calling. And according to the flow of Paul’s thought, one cause for this is surely a failure to appreciate the nobility of the calling to gospel ministry.

The words of Romans 10:15, citing Isa. 52:7, show the wonder of gospel ministry as well as any: ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!’ It is a high, a glorious calling to proclaim the glad tidings of the gospel, the message of salvation in and through the finished work of the Lord Jesus Christ. Because of the glory and worth of the message, the very feet that carry the gospel are ‘beautiful.’ Seeing this, surely the ministry is a calling that is to be desired.

The ministry is also a calling to be desired because it is a necessary calling. Paul asks, ‘How are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching?’ Eternal life and death depend on the work of preaching. Knowing that, Paul himself said, ‘Knowing the fear of the Lord, we persuade others’ (2 Cor. 5:11). Understanding the eternal realities that depend on preaching impelled Paul to seek to persuade others. He knew the necessity of the task, and therefore he desired the calling of preaching.

Now, of course, there is also a good humility regarding the call to preaching. James says, ‘Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers’ (James 3:1). The weight of the calling brings great demands and responsibilities. Paul himself cried out, ‘Who is sufficient for these things?’ (2 Cor. 2:16). But our insufficiency never has the final word, because ‘our sufficiency is from God, who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant’ (2 Cor. 3:5, 6). Because of God’s grace, despite its challenges, the ministry is to be highly valued and desired.

Too many churches

There are few things more grieving to the Spirit than divisions among God’s people. Patrick Fairbairn calls divisions ‘one of the darkest clouds’ hanging over the church, and that they ‘grieve the Holy Spirit of God, and mar that union of council, prayer, and exertion … [which] the cause of righteousness most urgently requires.’³ The division of the church is never harmless; it is always costly. One of the costs is that more churches require more ministers. Where church divisions are not necessary, there is the incongruous impact of grieving the Spirit, and simultaneously requiring the Spirit to call more men into ministry.

So, one cause of the shortage of ministers is an excess of churches. Perkins advises wisely against unnecessary division: ‘Are good ministers too thinly sown on the ground? Then let all good and godly ministers give the right hand of fellowship to each other (Gal. 2:9) and unite in love … since they are so few it is all the more important for them to avoid divisions.’⁴

How pastors are treated

There is a good and growing awareness of the impact of elders falling into what the Westminster Larger Catechism 130 calls ‘sins of superiors.’ Amongst these sins are ‘an inordinate seeking of themselves, their own glory, ease, profit, or pleasure; commanding things unlawful … correcting them unduly … [and] provoking them to wrath.’ We will all know of congregations damaged by these behaviours.

But it is also important to acknowledge that congregations can treat their pastors badly. That is why we have the exhortation ‘Obey your leaders and submit to them … Let them do this with joy and not with groaning, for that would be of no advantage to you’ (Heb. 13:17). Where there is not that disposition of submission to leaders (subject to the higher calling of submission to God), the ‘joy’ of the pastoral calling is turned into ‘groaning.’ John Brown notes in this circumstance, ‘the heart of the minister is discouraged, the great Master is displeased, the tokens of his favour are withdrawn.’⁵

No doubt many are deterred from entering pastoral ministry because of how existing ministers are treated. They see their ‘groaning.’ Where leaders in the church are not ‘respected’ (1 Thess. 5:12), is it any wonder men do not seek the office, and the Lord does not send men into the office?

A (literal) undervaluing of the ministry

It is a great scriptural principle that ‘the labourer deserves his wages’ (1 Tim. 5:18) and that ‘those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel’ (1 Cor. 9:14). This means that ministers should be paid appropriately to their calling. Of course, no man should ever ‘peddle the word of God for profit’ (2 Cor. 2:17, NIV). But that does not take away the command of scripture that gospel ministers should be paid well.

It is not unspiritual to say that a poor attitude to ministerial pay leads to less ministers. Unjustly low ministerial pay reveals a low attitude to the calling of the ministry, and this displeases God. William Perkins lamented ‘the inadequacy of the financial recompense and status given to those who enter this calling,’ going on to say, ‘It would be an honourable Christian policy to make at least good provision for this calling,’ noting that the lack of this is ‘a great blemish on our church.’⁶ Where this ‘great blemish’ persists, the Lord of the Harvest will be sparing in sending new labourers (2 Cor. 9:6).⁷

A lack of encouragement?

The church is not to be passive in view of a shortage of minsters. She is to pray, she is to address some of the problems considered so far, and she is to be proactive in seeking out men for ministry. Titus was commanded to seek out good men, and to see them ordained as elders: ‘This is why I left you in Crete, so that you might put what remained into order, and appoint elders in every town as I directed you” (Titus 1:5). Of course, the men had to be trained and qualified (Titus 1:6-9), but that does not negate the command.

So, without downplaying the necessity of the internal call, the church should be proactive with the external call. There is no reason for the internal call to have the priority. James Durham stated, ‘The Lord sometimes will thrust one forth by a more inward impulse and will draw others by more external means.’⁸ So, are we using all possible external means to fulfil the command to ordain elders? Are we encouraging men to consider ministry, are we testing their gifts, are we telling those in whom we discern gifts that, as far as we see, they might be called to ministry?

Pastoral failures

The moral failures of existing pastors are also undoubtedly deterring men from entering the ministry. We will all, sadly, likely know men who have disqualified themselves from ministry. This can cause men considering the ministry to doubt their ability. If Pastor So-and-so fell due to the temptations he faced in ministry, how can I survive? It can also give rise to cynicism—the ministry is a stage, a platform, full of actors, it is not for me.

The impact of pastoral failure needs to be acknowledged. But it should not deter men from ministry. A heathy sense of weakness is a good thing (1 Cor. 10:12), and the strength to stand and resist temptation is always of grace, not of ourselves. Nor should failures in ministry lead us to cynicism. There have always been those who preach Christ ‘from envy and rivalry’ as well as those who do so ‘from good will’ (Phil. 1:15). The Lord of the Harvest has told us there will always be tares as well as wheat in his kingdom on earth (Matt. 13:24-30).

Conclusion

We undoubtedly are in a time in where there is a shortage of gospel ministers. But we need not despair or be discouraged. The Lord Jesus has ascended on high, and from there he is giving gifts to the church, including all the ministers she needs, ‘to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ’ (Eph. 4:7-12). So we pray in faith, we seek to remove the impediments to men entering the ministry in faith, and we trust the Lord of the Harvest will send the labourers we need.

Dr Donald John MacLean is President and Professor of Historical and Systematic Theology at Westminster Seminary UK.

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‘One of the first developments in thought on prophecy came as further attention was given to the scriptures bearing on the future of the Jews. Neither Luther nor Calvin saw a future general conversion of the Jews promised in Scripture; some of their contemporaries, however, notably Martin Bucer and Peter Martyr, who taught at Cambridge and Oxford respectively in the reign of Edward VI, did understand the Bible to teach a future calling of the Jews. In this view they were followed by Theodore Beza, Calvin’s successor at Geneva. As early as 1560, four years before Calvin’s death, the English and Scots refugee Protestant leaders who produced the Geneva Bible, express this belief in their marginal notes on Romans chapter 11, verses 15 and 26. On the latter verse they comment, ‘He sheweth that the time shall come that the whole nation of the Jews, though not every one particularly, shall be joined to the church of Christ.’ The first volume in English to expound this conviction at some length was the translation of Peter Martyr’s Commentary upon Romans, published in London in 1568. The probability is strong that Martyr’s careful exposition of the eleventh chapter prepared the way for a general adoption amongst the English Puritans of a belief in the future conversion of the Jews. Closely linked as English Puritanism was to John Calvin, it was the view contained in Martyr’s commentary which was received by the rising generation of students at Cambridge.

Among those students was Hugh Broughton (1549–1612) who had the distinction of being the first Englishman to propose going as a missionary to the Jews in the Near East, and also the first to propose the idea of translating the New Testament into Hebrew for the sake of the Jews. Broughton’s ardour for the conversion of the Jews found no sympathy, however, with the English bishops whom he had early offended by his Puritan leanings. Though given no preferment in the English Church he was so well known in the East on account of his learning that the Chief Rabbi of Constantinople wrote to him in 1599 and subsequently invited him to become a public teacher there! This early possibility of a mission to the Jews was thwarted by the Church authorities, but Broughton’s writings—of which the best known was probably his Commentary on Daniel, 1596—stimulated further study of the whole question.¹

Broughton was too much an individualist ever to become a leader of the Puritan movement. Two years before he was ejected from his fellowship at Christ’s College, Cambridge, in 1579, William Perkins had entered the same college, a man whom we noted earlier as doing so much to influence the thinking of many who were to preach all over England. Perkins speaks plainly of a future conversion of the Jews:

The Lord saith, All the nations shall be blessed in Abraham: Hence I gather that the nation of the Jews shall be called, and converted to the participation of this blessing: when, and how, God knows: but that it shall be done before the end of the world we know.²

The same truth was opened by the succession of Puritan leaders at Cambridge who followed Perkins, including Richard Sibbes and Thomas Goodwin. In his famous book, The Bruised Reed, mentioned earlier in connection with Baxter’s conversion, Sibbes writes:

The Jews are not yet come in under Christ’s banner; but God, that hath persuaded Japhet to come into the tents of Shem, will persuade Shem to come into the tents of Japhet, Gen. 9:27. The ‘fulness of the Gentiles is not yet come in,’ Rom. 11:25, but Christ, that hath the ‘utmost parts of the earth given him for his possession,’ Psa. 2:8, will gather all the sheep his Father hath given him into one fold, that there may be one sheepfold and one shepherd, John 10:16. The faithful Jews rejoiced to think of the calling of the Gentiles; and why should not we joy to think of the calling of the Jews?³

This note of joy is significant. It had already been struck by Peter Martyr. If a widespread conversion of the Jews was yet to occur in the earth then the horizons of history were not, as Luther feared, wholly dark. Maintaining the truth that the great day for the church would be the day of Christ’s appearing at the end of time, Sibbes nevertheless saw warrant for expecting what he calls ‘lesser days before that great day.’ He continues: As at the first coming of Christ, so at the overthrow of Anti- Christ, the conversion of the Jews, there will be much joy . . . These days make way for that day. Whensoever prophecies shall end in performances, then shall be a day of joying and glorying in the God of our salvation for ever. And therefore in the Revelation where this Scripture is cited, Rev. 21:4, is meant the conversion of the Jews, and the glorious estate they shall enjoy before the end of the world. ‘We have waited for our God,’ and now we enjoy him. Aye, but what saith the church there? ‘Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.’ There is yet another, ‘Come, Lord,’ till we be in heaven.⁴

From the first quarter of the seventeenth century, belief in a future conversion of the Jews became commonplace among the English Puritans. In the late 1630s, and in the national upheavals of the 1640s—the period of the Civil Wars—the subject not infrequently was mentioned by Puritan leaders. As a ground for hopefulness in regard to the prospects of Christ’s kingdom it was introduced in sermons before Parliament or on other public occasions by William Strong,⁵William Bridge,⁶ George Gillespie,⁷ and Robert Baillie,⁸ to name but a few. The fact that the two last-named were commissioners from the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland at the Westminster Assembly, which was convened by the English Parliament in 1643, is indicative of the agreement on this point between English and Scottish divines. Some of the rich doctrinal formularies which that Assembly produced, bear the same witness. The Larger Catechism, after the question, ‘What do we pray for in the second petition of the Lord’s Prayer?’ (‘Thy kingdom come’), answers:

We pray that the kingdom of sin and Satan may be destroyed, the gospel propagated throughout the world, the Jews called, the fulness of the Gentiles brought in . . . that Christ would rule in our hearts here, and hasten the time of his second coming.

The Directory for the Public Worship of God (section on Public Prayer before Sermon) stipulates in similar language that prayer be made ‘for the conversion of the Jews.’

This same belief concerning the future of the Jews is to be found very widely in seventeenth-century Puritan literature. It appears in the works of such well-known Puritans as John Owen, Thomas Manton and John Flavel, though the indices of nineteenth-century reprints of their works do not always indicate this. It is also handled in a rich array of commentaries, both folios and quartos—David Dickson on the Psalms, George Hutcheson on the Minor Prophets, Jeremiah Burroughs on Hosea, William Greenhill on Ezekiel, Elnathan Parr on Romans, and James Durham on Revelation: a list which could be greatly extended.

Occasionally the subject became the main theme of a volume. Perhaps the first in order among these was The Calling of the Jews, published in 1621 by William Gouge, the eminent Puritan minister of Blackfriars, London; the author was a barrister, Sir Henry Finch. A slender work, Some Discourses upon the Point of the Conversion of the Jews, by Moses Wall, appeared in 1650,⁹ and nineteen years later Increase Mather, the New England divine of Boston, issued his work, The Mystery of Israel’s Salvation Explained and Applied.

That there shall be a general conversion of the Tribes of Israel is a truth which in some measure hath been known and believed in all ages of the Church of God, since the Apostles’ days . . . Only in these late days, these things have obtained credit much more universally than heretofore.

So Mather wrote in 1669.’

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‘And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner.’

— Luke 18:13

After the Israelites had been conquered by the Romans, it became necessary for them to pay taxes and customs to their oppressors. Publicans were wealthy, corrupt Israelites who promised to pay a given sum into the Roman treasury for each province in Israel. In order to obtain sufficient amounts to pay the taxes, to generously compensate for their own labour and risk, and often to pay Roman governors for allowing oppressive practices, the publicans excessively over-charged their fellow citizens. They kept large portions of the money they received to enrich themselves and live extravagantly. It was the publican Zacchaeus who admitted that he had obtained many goods by fraud (Luke 19).

Needless to say, the publican’s riches led to a sinful life. Where there is plenty of money, the doors of sinful pleasures open up. The same loose principles that allowed their consciences to deceive their fellow citizens also allowed them to live in sin. The Bible often mentions ‘publicans and sinners’ in the same breath.

No wonder that the Jews refused to associate with the publicans. They were traitors and oppressors of their own people and they were shameless and lawless men. They had made themselves worthy of the contempt of the people. A poor honest man would never accept charity from a publican. Seen in this light we can somewhat appreciate the Pharisee’s prayer. Aren’t we also, when we hear of the publicans, thankful we aren’t like them? If Christ’s mission had not been to save sinners, he would never have entered the custom house except to destroy the publicans in righteous indignation.

But here we see a publican, not at the receipt of customs, but in the temple, bowing down before God. God has become too strong for him and sin has become too much for him. The man looks for a place where he can pour out his heart before the Lord. Although he must acknowledge that it would be just if he were cast away from God’s presence forever, he cannot stop seeking after God. One might suppose that such a person would flee as far away from God as possible, but no, he clings to the Lord; if he perishes, he perishes.

How the people who entered the outer court must have despised him! They must have shunned him as if he were a leper. The Pharisee is so indignant that he cannot refrain from mentioning the publican’s appearance in his prayer. It took a lot of nerve for such a vile specimen of humanity to appear inside the temple!

But the one who had the least nerve was the publican. He knew better than anyone that he was the lowest creature, and with every step he took he knew too that he was unclean. He dared go no further; he stood afar off with downcast eyes. It would be a miracle for him if he would not perish there before God’s holy countenance! His humility was not put on. Some people say very humbly that they are satisfied with the lowest place, but underneath this humility is pride. What a good thing it is to have an attitude of humility in prayer! Humility is the first thing a sinner learns and also the last thing.

With downcast eyes the publican smites his hand on his breast. When things go wrong people often hit themselves on the head to show that they don’t know what to do. But when they see that the root of their problem is their own sin, they don’t strike their head, but rather their breast, just as this publican did. The publican places his hand where his spiritual pain is: ‘Here it is, inside of me,’ he seems to say as he strikes his hand on his breast. And that is where the seat of sin is. This publican has been mortally wounded with the sword of his own sin.

Not until now does he begin to speak; the attitude of his heart preceded his words. What an immense difference there is in the way we draw near to God. We can come with the same words the publican used and yet lack his attitude of heart. Much more important than what we say is the attitude in which we approach the Lord. The all-knowing God looks at the heart first. ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner,’ the publican cried. The Greek actually says, ‘O God, be merciful to me the sinner.’ The publican feels himself to be not just a sinner, but the sinner. For him only one sinner exists and that is he.

As long as we are just a sinner, one among many, and as long as the concept of sinner is still a general idea for us, then we have not yet become the sinner before God. We can acknowledge that we are a sinner among many with faults and shortcomings, but never feel personal guilt. When we finally do feel guilt, we don’t try to excuse ourselves by pointing to others, but we ourselves become the only and greatest sinner.

What does it actually mean to be a sinner before God? To understand that we will see what the original Greek says. There a word is used that means ‘missing the mark.’ We need to realize that we have missed the excellent mark for which we were created in paradise—to live to God. We missed the mark because we broke away from God to live to self. The prophet Daniel named many of King Belshazzar’s sins when the hand on the wall wrote ‘Weighed in the balances, and found wanting.’ But the chief sin of Belshazzar was that, ‘God in whose hand thy breath is, and whose are all thy ways, hast thou not glorified.’ Let us meditate on these words, ‘missing the mark.’ We not only have sin, but we are sin. Man comes to God, not only with sin, but as one who is sin.

Doesn’t that humble you? What else can you do but ask for grace? The publican offered no tithes and didn’t boast of fasting twice a week. He could only ask for grace—grace or death.

When a sinner prays like that for grace he leaves God free to grant grace or withhold it. God’s sovereignty is acknowledged and not a word is spoken against God, even if no answer comes from heaven. Grace leaves God free, otherwise it is not grace. It is hardly necessary to add that such a humble prayer has no value in the eyes of the one who prays. Sometimes the complaint is heard, ‘If my prayer were only a true prayer.’ Here the idea is that there is some merit in prayer itself. But if you are waiting for a good prayer you will wait in vain until you die.

The publican didn’t and couldn’t wait until he knew his prayer was true. Moreover, no prayer has ever been heard because of any intrinsic value of the prayer. Humility cannot move heaven. The publican knew that. Therefore he doesn’t place any value on his humility. Had he done that, he would have something to offer to God and then, in principle, there would have been very little difference between him and the Pharisee.

Be sure you understand that the attitude of your heart cannot move God. If you think that, you will end up in the dark. Humility consists in being dependent on grace alone. Many prayers have not been answered because in his wisdom God has determined otherwise. Yet a prayer for grace has never been rejected. The publican experienced this, for he went to his house justified.

Does the answer always come so quickly? Grace is all-sufficient, whether a crumb falls from heaven for the first time, or whether something more is given later on. The lesson here is that ultimately there is only one thing we should pray for—grace. Has that become your prayer?

What a short prayer! But for the Lord it is not too brief, for a prayer for grace is always accompanied by a broken heart. To ask for grace includes the acknowledgment of God’s righteous judgment and of our own lost condition. It means that we agree with God’s justice and confirm our sentence, even if our request would be rejected.

This is very humiliating for man. Because the crown has fallen from his head he must sink and perish, except he end up in the arms of God’s good pleasure—that is Christ. Christ is the only fountain of grace. He must do what we cannot do. To pray for grace is yielding oneself to the sovereignty of God and simultaneously resting in the mercy of God.

Such a prayer glorifies God. It is well-pleasing to the Lord when a fallen man acknowledges his fall before the holy throne. It is well-pleasing to the Lord when a prodigal son or daughter comes back in this way. Yes, the Lord waits for such a son or daughter. When they stood afar off and dared not raise their eyes, they could not see that there was a Saviour who was waiting to pay their debt.

Doesn’t this encourage you? The Lord is actually waiting to pay your debt. There is a Redeemer for the debts you owe and it is the Saviour’s joy to freely bestow his meritorious grace on publicans and sinners. We are never too wicked to come to Jesus. We can only be too good in our own eyes.

Do not despair then! Do not give up! It is Satan who keeps you away from the throne of grace, suggesting that you are too wicked, for Satan also knows that it is a throne of grace. He does not want you to end up in the arms of God’s mercy, and therefore he seeks any means to keep you from the closet. To one he says, ‘You are good enough’ and to another he says, ‘You are too wicked.’

Because sin remains in us until our last breath, we will never get beyond the publican’s prayer. The closer we are drawn to God, the greater our sin seems to us. Before his throne, in his holy light, we always stand in need of more grace. Not only is grace experienced as a free gift, but it becomes a daily way of living in Christ. Otherwise we would perish. Therefore the last prayer to be prayed will be, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner,’ for only publicans and sinners are received at the gate of heaven.

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In May, 1789, Adam Rankin, having travelled from Kentucky to Philadelphia for the first General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America, made the following query: ‘Whether the churches…have not fallen into a great pernicious error by disusing Rouse’s versifications of David’s Psalms, and adopting…Watts’s imitation?’ The General Assembly gave Rankin a lengthy hearing and ‘endeavoured to relieve his mind from the difficulties’, experiencing little success. They recommended ‘that exercise of Christian charity to those who differ from him in their views of this matter, which is exercised toward himself’. Further, they admonished him to ‘guard against disturbing the peace of the church on this head’. Thus, Isaac Watts, the writer of such hymns as ‘Alas and did My Saviour bleed’, ‘O God Our Help in Ages Past’, and ‘When I Survey the Wondrous Cross’ was approved and his Psalms of David Imitated in the Language of the New Testament were assured a permanent place in the worship of Presbyterians in America.

To people living today it seems strange that using Watts’ paraphrases of the Psalms in public worship would raise such grave concern. But to many living in the 18th century any singing in public worship other than the standard accepted translations of the Psalms was a return to the ‘popish’ forms of medieval Catholicism. Only occasionally were paraphrases or hymns allowed, and then just for special occasions and for specific congregations – not whole church bodies. Thus, for Isaac Watts to have written 600 hymns and versifications of the Psalms for use among the whole Protestant Christian world was a radical break with the past. It revolutionized the worship of dissenting churches and established the English hymn. In this light, Isaac Watts can truly be called the Father of the English hymn.

Isaac Watts was born in Southampton, England on July 17th, 1674, to Isaac and Sarah Watts. The oldest of eight children, he was brought up in the Nonconformist tradition of his parents. His father had been put into prison for his beliefs before his first son was born and was not released until the following year. Upon rejoining his family the elder Watts began instructing his son in the ways of religion which would have such an impact on his life.

During these early years, Isaac Watts began to display his skill for writing verse. Even before he was six years old he had written some verses. When his mother discovered them, she questioned whether he could have composed them. In order to assure her of his ability he produced an acrostic using his name:

I am a vile polluted lump of earth,

So I’ve continu’d ever since my birth;

Although Jehovah grace does daily give me,

As sure this monster Satan will deceive me,

Come, therefore, Lord, from Satan’s claws relieve me.

Wash me in thy blood, O Christ,

And grace divine impart,

Then search and try the corners of my heart,

That I in all things may be fit to do

Service to thee, and sing thy praises too.

As a child Watts also demonstrated a passion for learning. He began to study Latin at the age of four, Greek when he was nine, French when he was ten, and Hebrew when he was thirteen. At the age of six he came under the instruction of the Rev John Pinhorne, to whom he became closely attached as a dedicated student. During this time his father was again ‘persecuted and imprisoned for nonconformity for six months’, as his Memorandum tells us. Upon release the elder Watts was forced to live in London for two years, separated from his family. He sent his children a letter during this period which reflects the kind of upbringing they had received. He told them how much he missed them and that he remembered them always in prayer, adding, ‘Though it hath pleased the only wise God to suffer the malice of ungodly men…to break out against me…we must endeavour by patient waiting to submit to his will without murmuring’. He closed by assuring them that God’s ‘infinite wisdom’ was at work in his trials. Watts seems to have learned well from his father, for the same spirit of humility and submission before God characterized his attitude toward his own sufferings due to poor health throughout his life. Once during a severe illness he wrote, ‘I know not but my days of restraint and confinement by affliction may appear my brightest days, when I come to take a review of them in the light of heaven’.

Watts’ ability as a student became well-known, so that as the time approached for him to enter college a physician in Southampton, Dr John Speed, offered to pay for his preparation for the Christian ministry at an English university. Since only Anglicans could attend Oxford and Cambridge, Watts respectfully declined the offer, ‘determined to take his lot among the dissenters’. Having made this choice, at sixteen he went to the Academy of Newington Green, near London, to prepare for the ministry. The students there were under the tutelage of Rev Thomas Rowe, a Nonconformist minister. The quality of education was very high and Watts applied himself diligently. Samuel Johnson, in his Lives of the English Poets, wrote, ‘Some Latin Essays…written as exercises at this academy, show a degree of knowledge, both philosophical and theological, such as very few attain by a much longer course of study.’ At the age of twenty, after completing his studies at the Academy, Watts returned to his family in Southampton where he stayed for two years engaging himself in reading, prayer, and meditation further to prepare himself to serve God in the church.

It was during this period that Watts became critical of the psalm ­singing in the dissenting congregations, which was bound to the Sternhold and Hopkins version of the Psalms. He felt that the psalmody was crude and impoverished, lacking the dignity and grace that should be a part of Christian worship. His father’s response to his complaint was, ‘Try then whether you can yourself produce something better’. Watts took up the challenge and the result was:

Behold the glories of the Lamb

Amidst his Father’s throne;

Prepare new honors for his name,

And songs before unknown.

Thus began the work for which Isaac Watts is remembered today.

Having spent two years in Southampton preparing himself, in October, 1696, Watts went to become tutor to the son of Sir John Hartopp at Newington. There he taught and studied for five years, becoming assistant to Rev Isaac Chauncey, pastor of the Mark Lane independent church. He preached his first sermon on July 17th, 1698, his twenty-fourth birthday. His interest in improving the worship among independent churches continued throughout this period. In 1697 Watts’ friend and former classmate at Newington Green, Samuel Say, sent him and another classmate, John Hughes, his paraphrases of some of the Psalms. Hughes’ response was enthusiastic, commending Say for his effort and for rescuing ‘the noble Psalmist out of the butcherly hands of Sternhold and Hopkins’. Say seems not to have produced more, but the idea was given fresh impetus in Watts’ thinking. David Fountain, in his biography, Isaac Watts Remembered, writes that the ‘friendship between Say and Watts proved to be one of the influences which caused him some years later to apply himself seriously to the work of “imitating” the Psalms’. This period was also the beginning of Watts’ many struggles with extended periods of illness.

In April, 1701, Chauncey resigned as pastor of the Mark Lane congregation and the position was offered to Watts. After some indecision due to his poor health he finally accepted the call on March 8th, 1702. The church began to grow under Watts’ ministry at a time when many dissenting churches were in decline. Watts was an outstand­ing preacher in spite of his small stature and ‘thin’ voice. His dignified manner, clarity of thought, clear enunciation and his gifts in extemporary preaching combined to make him one of the ‘weightiest’ preachers of his day. Thus, the congregation multiplied and outgrew its Mark Lane meeting-house, moving to Pinners’ Hall, and finally, in 1708, to a brand new meeting-house at Bury Street. But poor health continued to plague Watts and soon it was necessary for the church to appoint the Rev Samuel Price to assist him.

The worst period of illness came in 1712 when Watts was struck by a severe sickness that lasted for most of the next four years. In 1713, believing that death was imminent, Watts recommended that Mr Price be appointed co-pastor.

In the Spring of 1714, Sir Thomas Abney, Lord Mayor of London and a member of Parliament, invited Watts to stay with his family for a week at their country home at Theobalds, hoping that the rest would aid him in his recovery. The visit extended into a residence which lasted thirty-four years, until Watts died. At the Abney home he was able to study and write, and it was there that many of his hymns were composed. The relationship between Watts and the Abney family was warm and he served the family well as a tutor to the Abney children, as a chaplain, and as a friend, while they cared for him during his times of illness. According to Dr Thomas Gibbons in his Memoirs of the Rev Isaac Watts, D.D., without such gracious hospitality he ‘might have sunk into his grave under the overwhelming load of infirmities’. Once when Watts commented to a visitor that a week’s visit had extended into a stay of thirty years, Lady Abney replied, ‘Sir, what you term a long thirty-years visit, I consider the shortest visit my family ever received’.

One of the greatest influences that inspired Watts to write hymns and scriptural paraphrases was his brother Enoch. In a letter to Watts in 1700 he writes, ‘In your last you discovered an inclination to oblige the world by showing it your hymns in print’, and urges him on in this, assuring him that it is not just out of brotherly admiration that he does so. He recounts how ‘mean’ the religious poetry of their day is and that in an age of dying devotion poetry like his is needed to ‘quicken and revive’ worship. He says that, ‘were David to speak English, he would choose to make use of your style’. Reminding Watts of the scandalous reputation the dissenters have for their ‘imagined aversion to poetry’ Enoch exhorts him to publish his hymns in order that ‘these calumnies will immediately vanish’. Watts eventually took his brother’s advice to heart. In 1705 his book of poems, Horae Lyricae, which also contained twenty-five of his hymns, was published. In 1707 the first edition of Hymns and Spiritual Songs appeared. In 1709 a second edition went out, with 145 new hymns added and revisions made of hymns in the previous edition. After this no further changes were made in the work, but more hymns appeared in later editions of Horae Lyricae and in other works. The Psalms of David Imitated in the Language of the New Testament, containing most of his paraphrases of the Psalms, appeared in 1719.

Watts’ hymns were received at a time when no one else had been able to succeed in this task. Previously hymns had been written only for specific congregations, not for use by the wider Christian public. Furthermore, hymns were only used on special occasions such as communion. One pastor, Benjamin Keach, used to place a hymn at the end of the service so that those offended by its singing could leave before it was sung. But people accepted and sang Watts’ hymns. In a letter to Watts, Phillip Doddridge wrote of a church in which he preached, ‘your Psalms and hymns were almost their daily entertainment’. Watts became so popular in England and America that people would sit down, refusing to sing, if a hymn by another composer was announced in the congregation. Thus Watts was able to effect a lasting change in the worship of the churches of his day.

 After the publication of The Psalms of David, Watts continued to write, but almost all of his work was prose. He produced a book of children’s songs and poetry, a catechism for children, textbooks for college instruction, and a number of essays on theology and philosophy. Samuel Johnson writes of him, ‘Every man acquainted with the common principles of human action will look with veneration on the writer who is at one time combating Locke, and at another making a catechism for children in their fourth year’. But it is as a hymn-writer that Isaac Watts is remembered best – he is the Father of the English hymn. What many have called the ‘greatest hymn in the English language’ was penned by him:

‘When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss;

And pour contempt on all my pride’.

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Who will believe what we preach? And to whom will the arm of the
Lord be revealed? 2 He will grow up before him like a young shoot,
and like a root in dry ground. He has neither form nor comeliness,
and we saw that there was no excellence in him that we might desire
him. 3 He was despised and rejected among men, a man of sorrows,
familiar with infirmity, so that men in their scorn will hide their
faces from him, and none will esteem him. 4 Truly he bore our weaknesses
and carried our sorrows, yet we esteemed him stricken by God,
and afflicted (Isa. 53:1-4).

WE began by pointing out that although the gospel was to be preached throughout the world, it would not be well received by most people. The prophet made this point clear, so that God’s children should not be alarmed when they saw the unbelief of those into whose ears the message of salvation had been drummed, and who nevertheless were unwilling to accept it. It is strange indeed that God should call men to him and should try to win them in the kindest and most gracious way possible, but that they should turn away from him and deliberately refuse to come to the salvation which is set before them. It seems impossible, yet this is what experience shows us. As a result, the prophet proclaims that when God with trumpet sound seeks to make his gospel known, it is only a small number who believe.

Isaiah now explains the reason: God is revealing his power, with the aim of giving faith to those who, left to their natural understanding, would remain in unbelief. Why is it that we see so many who reject the gospel? Why are so many weary of it, or so offended that they would rather be like those who despise God than draw near to him? Why is this, I ask, if not because we imagine that faith lies in the power of each of us? Isaiah, on the contrary, declares that although God commands that his word be proclaimed to all—that is, to both good and bad—nevertheless he is secretly active in his elect, causing them as it were to feel his arm and power.¹

Observe, then, that when the gospel is preached it will be like a meaningless sound until our Lord reveals that he is the one speaking. He does not grant this gift to everyone. So God’s power is hidden from the reprobate; it is a privilege given to few people, to those he has elected and adopted in order to bring them to eternal life—to those who have his assurance that the gospel is the message of salvation, and that it is the sure truth to which they must hold. That, in brief, is what the prophet Isaiah seeks to convey in this verse.

For our part we must be armed and equipped to meet the obstacle which the devil sets before us. For when we see so many people resisting the gospel—yes, the very greatest, and those highly regarded by men—we are almost led to think that this cannot be God’s word. Why do we think that? Our faith is shaken because we depend too much on men. Let us overcome, then, everything which is of the world, and let us recognize that when God speaks, we must submit to him. Even if no one keeps us company, even if everyone is our enemy, let us nevertheless receive with purity of faith whatever God declares. And to avoid being overly surprised that people should be so wilful as to war against their God, against the one who created them and who shows himself to them as their Redeemer, understand that this is not given to all, and that faith is a particular gift which God keeps as a treasure for those he has chosen.

Although we know that our duty is to cleave to God, we should realize that faith is not something which of our own accord we give to ourselves: God enlightens us and by his Holy Spirit gives us eyes to see. In doing so he reveals to us his power; that is, he produces so lively an impression in our hearts that we know that the gospel comes not from men, but from him. That, in sum, is what we have to remember about this text. So we should boldly defy the unbelief and obstinacy of those who rebel against God, and we should walk where he calls us, accepting all the benefits he offers us, lest we be guilty of the ingratitude which the prophet here denounces and condemns in all who will not obey the gospel message.

That said, Isaiah shows that people do not deign to believe in Jesus Christ, since they see him as one who is marred. Our Lord Jesus, we know, is called ‘a stumbling stone’ and ‘a rock of offence’ (Rom. 9:32; 1 Pet. 2:8), because men strike hard against him. Yet he was given to us by God his Father for a quite different purpose: that we should be grounded in his grace, and that he should be the rock sustaining all of us. There is no one else who can give us solidity and support, only he. We ourselves are in a state of flux; hell yawns wide to swallow us up; we must rely for support on our Lord Jesus Christ. That is why he is said in the twenty-eighth chapter of Isaiah to have been set as a precious cornerstone on which God’s temple would be built, a firm rock upholding the whole edifice (Isa. 28:16). The prophet also adds that in the kingdom of Judah and in the house of Israel he would be a rock of offence (Isa. 8:14).

In this passage our Lord Jesus is described as a small shoot, a root springing from dry ground, that is, from barren soil. He will be despised; no one will deign to look upon him; all will turn their faces from him; he will be an object of hate. That is why so few people will believe the gospel, for we always want to look good in our own eyes; we always want to shine. God, however, in seeking to redeem us, worked along very different lines. As Paul says, the world had no use for God’s wisdom which revealed him as Creator, so that simply by looking at the heavens and the earth we might come to him (Rom. 1:19-20). God therefore changed his way of doing things: he employed a certain kind of folly in order to instruct us (1 Cor. 1:21). As I said earlier, we must all be taught by God’s marvellous wisdom, which is manifest, high and low, to everyone in the world. Our minds, however, grew heavy and dull, which is why God employed folly of a sort by sending his only Son and by subjecting him to every kind of infirmity. The result was that, being born in a stable but rejected by the world, he remained a poor artisan throughout his life. Finally, we learn that everyone rose up against him, and with such fury that they loathed him, considering him to be the enemy of all; in the end they crucified him. This form of death was cursed by God (Deut. 21:23; Gal. 3:3). He was not only marred by men’s blows, by their spitting and by the crown of thorns; he suffered the curse of being hung between two thieves, as if he were the most hated man that ever lived or was ever known to men. This was a frightful form of death, because it fell under the law’s curse.

In these ways, then, he was marred, and it was offensive in men’s eyes. Isaiah therefore insists that people will not believe the gospel because they cannot conceive that it is reasonable. They can on no account accept that God’s Son, the Lord of glory, should have been the object of such abuse and shame. They cannot assent to God’s eternal counsel which he purposed from eternity. Such is the prophet’s meaning here.

Nevertheless, it is said that he will grow up before him. If, at the outset, he is insignificant, God will cause him to grow; he will appear as a small shoot springing from dry ground. Even so he will increase and will flower in all his glory, for God will see to it. At this point the prophet reverts to the theme of our sin, in order to dispel the offence which we feel, thanks to our perverse disposition. When we see our Lord Jesus Christ thus marred, we might refuse to come to him. To avoid this, the prophet discloses the reason for it all. In truth, once we have acknowledged our sins and, at the same time, comprehended the fact of God’s wrath, we will come to Jesus Christ, and our wish to be helped by him will make us all the keener to accept his death and passion. We will recognize that this is the necessary remedy for the evil within us. This, then, is the method which Isaiah employs here.

In comparing our Lord Jesus Christ to a young shoot and to a root in dry and barren ground, Isaiah’s aim is to show that there will be small beginnings which no one will notice, which everyone in fact will laugh at and deride. Already in his eleventh chapter the prophet had compared our Lord to a small shoot, saying that it would come from the stem of Jesse, David’s father (Isa. 11:1). Since at that time the royal house had been thrown down and had lost all greatness, the prophet declares that it will be as in former times. Jesse was a country man; the sons he had were oxherds and shepherds in the fields. His house was therefore obscure and of no repute. It was like the trunk of a tree which had been felled: people would trample upon it; it would be of no consequence.

Jesus Christ was thus, so to speak, a small shoot, but one which would grow so as to give shade to the whole world. Here again the prophet makes it clear that our Lord Jesus Christ was bound to be despised in the beginning. If this had not been said, we might have rightly taken offence on seeing that our Lord’s coming was held in such contempt by men. Scripture, after all, had said that there would always be some who would sit on David’s throne, and that their rule would prosper as long as there was sun and moon (2 Sam. 7:12-13; 1 Chron. 17:11-14; Psa. 89:35- 37). Yet here the royal house has been practically annihilated and swept away. Who could imagine that the promise would be fulfilled in the person of Jesus Christ? There was no sign that things would be restored. So when it is said that David’s house would fall and that sovereignty, sceptre and crown would be no more, and that men would feel almost ashamed to see such ruin and desolation—when all this is proclaimed by the prophets, here we have a promising way forward: our Lord Jesus Christ!

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The unwearied and effective manner in which Machen brought into sharp focus the centrality of the Christian view of history and its decisive significance for the understanding of the gospel must be noted. In Christianity and Liberalism he expresses this thought as follows:

All the ideas of Christianity might be discovered in some other religion, yet there would be in that other religion no Christianity. For Christianity depends, not upon a complex of ideas, but upon the narration of an event. Without that event, the world, in the Christian view, is altogether dark, and humanity is lost under the guilt of sin. There can be no salvation by the discovery of eternal truth, for eternal truth brings naught but despair, because of sin. But a new face has been put upon life by the blessed thing that God did when he offered up his only begotten Son.

Machen was also beyond fundamentalism in recognizing that perhaps the most basic issue of all concerned the significance one attached to belief of the Christian message, in short, one’s attitude toward the truth itself. He held that a man might accept all the articles in the creed, including the virgin birth and resurrection of Christ, but that, if in the end he asserted that it didn’t really matter whether one believed or not, and that unbelief was as tolerable as belief, he had far more emphatically denied Christianity than the person who merely denied certain isolated doctrines. In accordance with this evaluation, Machen introduced his work, following the introductory chapter, with an entire chapter on ‘Doctrine.’ Here he shows that the message of Christianity, and of Christ himself, was doctrinal through and through from the very beginning. If one is to have a nondoctrinal religion, or one founded merely on general truth, one must be prepared to give up not only Paul, not only the primitive Christian church, but also Jesus himself. Scepticism or indifference with regard to the history of Christ, therefore, constituted in his judgment the most profound heresy of all.

Machen’s approach was also somewhat distinctive in the particularity of its application to the ecclesiastical situation of his day, and especially the one with which he was most immediately concerned. It will be recalled that the address which was to develop into the book was delivered before an elders’ association. On that occasion he had taken pains to admonish the elders to discharge their own responsibilities in all faithfulness. They were, first of all, to encourage those who were in the forefront of the battle for the Christian faith. In the presbyteries, also, they were to be faithful, and in the crisis of the day there was need of insistence that only men who were wholly loyal to the faith should be admitted to the ministry. In their local congregations they also were to take their stand for the faith; they were, for example, to demand that in the calling of a pastor primary consideration should be given to the candidate’s beliefs.

This practical emphasis finds expression especially in the final chapter of Christianity and Liberalism which is devoted to ‘The Church.’ It contains a powerful indictment of the inclusivism which allowed great companies of persons who had never made any adequate confession of faith, not only into the membership, but even into the ministry and other places of influence. There could be no peace within the church so long as this condition persisted. ‘A separation between the two parties in the church is the crying need of the hour.’ There could moreover be no programme for unity in the church which disregarded the doctrinal issue on the assumption that the doctrinal differences were trivial. Moreover, he pointed out, it would be dishonest to ‘sink doctrinal differences and unite the church on a programme of Christian service’ in view of the solemn commitment of ministers and other officers of the church to maintain the doctrines of the church. The path of honesty is the path trod by the Unitarians who frankly and honestly desired a church without an authoritative Bible, without doctrinal requirements, and without a creed.

In speaking of the deadly weakness with which the present situation was fraught, Machen, though not referring explicitly to the boards and agencies of his own denomination, in effect included them under his general indictment.

The proclamation of the gospel is clearly the joy as well as the duty of every Christian man. But how shall the gospel be propagated? The natural answer is that it shall be propagated through the agencies of the church—boards of missions and the like. An obvious duty, therefore, rests upon the Christian man of contributing to the agencies of the church. But at this point perplexity arises. The Christian man discovers to his consternation that the agencies of the church are propagating not only the gospel as found in the Bible and in the historic creeds, but also a type of religious teaching which is at every conceivable point the diametrical opposite of the gospel.

Machen went on to speak of the difficulty of contributing financial support under such circumstances and the unsatisfactory character of the alternative of designating gifts for particular missionaries. Nevertheless he was so sure that the true missionaries should not be allowed to be in want that he was asking whether it would not be better that ‘the gospel should be both preached and combated by the same agencies than that it should not be preached at all.’ Thus the essential elements of the problem with which Machen was to be faced in the thirties following the publication of Rethinking Missions were already present in the early twenties; indeed there are some evidences that this issue had previously been present in his mind for at least another earlier decade.

Public Reception

Soon after its appearance his colleagues gave expression to their appreciation of his book, and this was duly reported to his mother. Of special interest in connection with Machen’s references to the ecclesiastical situation is the fact that Stevenson and Erdman, with whom he had differed profoundly on the church union issue, were critical of these utterances. Writing on March 3rd, he says:

Next to Army Charlie Erdman seems to have been the first man in Princeton to read my book through. He wrote me a very nice note—but expressing regret that I had not made an exception of Presbyterian missionaries on p. 171. Dr Erdman really seems to think that Presbyterian missionaries are all O.K.

And the following week he said:

Dr Stevenson wrote me a long letter with praise of the book, but expressing the view that we should not stir up trouble by cutting the liberals out of the Church, but should let them remain in the Church and try to win them!

Though cordially received by the conservative religious press both within his denomination and without, the book was roundly criticized by the liberals. One facet of criticism, represented by The Presbyterian Advance and The Continent, was that liberalism as depicted by Machen was unknown in the Presbyterian Church. Machen indeed had not declared that all the liberals held to liberalism as he expounded it. While maintaining that liberalism represented ‘no mere divergence at isolated points from Christian teaching,’ and that it constituted ‘in essentials a unitary system of its own,’ he said:

That does not mean that all liberals hold all parts of the system, or that Christians who have been affected by liberal teaching at one point have been affected at all points. There is sometimes a salutary logic which prevents the whole of a man’s faith being destroyed when he has given up a part. But the true way in which to examine a spiritual movement is in its logical relations; logic is the great dynamic, and the logical implications of any way of thinking are sooner or later certain to be worked out.

On the other hand, Dr John A. MacCallum, an outspoken modernist minister of the Presbyterian Church, reviewing the book in the Philadelphia Public Ledger for April 28, 1923, admitted that Dr Machen’s position was that of ‘traditional Presbyterianism.’ He insisted, however, that liberalism, viewed as an attitude and atmosphere that had moved away from the ancient constitutions, had every right to remain in the Church. The liberals he held are men who ‘have accepted the enlarged view of the universe which has been established by modern astronomy, geology and biology. Instead of blindly denying scientific facts as the obscurantists have always done, they have adjusted themselves to them, and in so doing have increased their faith and urbanity and consequently extended their influence, particularly with the educated classes … Liberalism is an atmosphere rather than a series of formulas.’ It is noteworthy that Dr MacCallum did not face the issue involved in the fact that all Presbyterian ministers were called upon to subscribe in the most solemn terms to the constitutional formulas of doctrine.

The Unitarians were more sensitive on this point, as a review in the Pacific Unitarian (June-July, 1923) discloses:

What interests us is that from the point of view of a certain type of theology, Dr Machen’s arguments are irrefutable. His logic, it seems to us is impeccable. The issue does exist and does confront us. For the first time he has done us the great service of putting it in a clear-cut and definite form. You must be either a believer or an unbeliever, an evangelical or a liberal, you cannot be both at the same time. Our judgment is that Dr Machen puts the liberal party within the evangelical church where it has not a sound leg to stand on.

The extent to which Christianity and Liberalism came to be read, as account was taken of the struggle in the churches, is indicated by the diverse comments of Walter Lippmann and Lewis Browne. The latter, in The Nation for June 27, 1923, takes delight in the ‘godly mischief ’ which he discovers in the current situation as men like Percy Stickney Grant were ‘throwing off the cumbersome baggage’ that has kept the church lagging far in the rear. And Browne characterizes Machen’s book as follows: ‘If any imagine that the work of godly mischief, of ridding Christianity of its doctrinal barnacles, is unopposed in theological circles, they should read this precious volume. It is a broad and inclusive condemnation of any and every attempt to let light into the attic of theology.’ In contrast to this vitriolic and superficial estimate stands that of Lippmann who, in 1929, stated in A Preface to Morals:

It is an admirable book. For its acumen, for its saliency, and for its wit, this cool and stringent defence of orthodox Protestantism is, I think, the best popular argument produced by either side in the controversy. We shall do well to listen to Dr Machen. The liberals have yet to answer him.¹

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“Let not the infirm and aged say that they can now do nothing for God. They can do much; and for ought they can tell, more than they ever did in the days of their vigour. It is a beautiful sight to see men laden with fruit, even in old age. Such fruits are generally more mature than those of earlier days; and the aged saint often enjoys a tranquillity and repose of spirit, which is almost peculiar to that age. David, or whoever is the author of the 71st Psalm, prays most earnestly a prayer which should be daily on the lips of the aged: ‘Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth.’ And again: ‘Now also when I am old and grey-headed, forsake me not, until I have showed thy strength to this generation, and thy power to all that are to come.’ Let the aged then tell to those that come after them, the works of divine grace which they have witnessed or which their fathers have told them. Let them be active as long as they can, and when bodily strength fails, let them wield the pen; or if unable to write for the edification of the church, let them exhibit consistent and shining example of the Christian temper, in kindness and good will to all; in uncomplaining patience; in contented poverty; in cheerful submission to painful providences; and in mute resignation to the loss of their dearest friends. And when death comes, let them not be afraid or dismayed; then will be the time to honour God by implicitly and confidently trusting in His promises. Let them ‘against hope believe in hope’. It is by faith that the last enemy must be conquered. He that believeth shall not be confounded, in this trying hour. The great Shepherd will not forsake His redeemed flock, for whom He has shed His blood; and though the adversary may rage and violently assault dying saints, he shall not overcome them. Each one of them may say with humble confidence: ‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.’”

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Owen explains Paul’s statement ‘I die daily’ as a testimony to the stability of his faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and the resurrection of the dead. It was this faith that carried him though all kinds of difficulties. He concludes that it was the duty of all believers to prepare themselves to die cheerfully and comfortably. He observed that this faith would be seen outwardly in the various conditions and causes of death, which is left to the providences of God, and also inwardly. However, in the latter faith may not always be manifested.

He then explains three essentials, the first of which he covers in the first two sermons. Of primary importance is the constant exercise of faith with respect to the resigning of our departing souls into the hand and sovereign will of God. When the time comes we will enter into an invisible world. We know nothing of that world except what God has revealed in his word. The saints of God believe there will be an act of mighty power put forward by God when we depart for this invisible world. They resign themselves to God’s sovereign grace, his power, his wisdom, his good pleasure, his mercy and his faithfulness. The greatest example of such resignation is seen in the Lord Jesus Christ, when he cried out with a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit’ (Luke 23:46).

Owen deals with the fears of our hearts, the uncertainties and darkness relating to the future, and the hatred we entertain with regard to the dissolution of our body. But he says that is to be weighed against the ability of God to receive and preserve us to that day and to be better to us than all these things that threaten to undo us.

In the second sermon he drives home the special nature of this duty, insisting it is our responsibility to discern whether we possess this kind of faith in the power of God. Pointing his readers to Psalm 31:5 (the words Christ used on the cross), he asks what gave the psalmist confidence. Referring to Psalms 16:1, 2 and 31:14, 15, faith takes on board redeeming grace conveyed by the truth of God’s promises. Faith considers the ability of God to preserve them as they enter the invisible world (2 Tim. 1:12), and the faithfulness of God (1 Pet. 4:19). This he further explains is a matter of ‘commending’ and ‘committing’ our soul to God, leaving it in trust to God. This is to be done verbally, as with David and the Lord Jesus in the verses already considered. Owen maintains this is to be done daily, so that the sovereignty, power and faithfulness of God remains uppermost in our minds and hearts. This alone will support us whatever we may suffer before we die. The only persons who can do this are those who have a clear persuasion of their interest in Christ, and a clear view of eternal things. They and they alone are able to die safely and comfortably.

The third sermon begins with a question and ends with a warning. He asks whether we are willing and ready to die. Owen, as a true pastor, deals with the soul’s natural aversion to dying. He mentions those who, in effect say, ‘I am happy to be dead, but I do not want to die.’ He explains this aversion. The soul has never had to act without the body. Death dissolves the union of body and soul. When God made us there were two distinct divine acts. He first formed the body out of the dust and then breathed into the nostrils the breath of life. There will be no new union of body and soul until the resurrection.

At the point of death Christ will free our bodies, but we do not die like the beasts. Our first desire is to be ‘further clothed’ (2 Cor. 5:4). But it is not God’s way to do that at death. Rather he brings us to the point where we are willing to part with our body. All our efforts in our earthly life to remove our sin fail. Death is God’s refining pot, the way he purifies us. We desire to depart and be with Christ (Phil. 1:21), but first the body must have sin uprooted by death itself. We must return to dust. Owen concludes, ‘there is no sting in death, no darkness in the grave … a lying down in the hands of the great Refiner, who will purge, purify and restore you.’

His final words constitute a warning. Do not let death surprise you so that you are overtaken by death while you are in a wrong spiritual frame
of heart. David relapsed from a good frame but recovered his strength (Psa. 39:13). Owen relates some of the difficulties we face—the world, temptations, and self-love. It is all too easy to overvalue human relationships. What is needed? An active meditation on and a constant view of things above, maintaining a spiritual-mindedness. If we ignore such things death will find us unprepared and take us by surprise. He urges us to pray that God will keep up our spirits by his Spirit.

Owen’s personal earnestness comes to the fore in some of his concluding remarks. ‘In plain terms, I am speaking to dying men who do not know how soon they may die. May God advise my own heart that I should labour and watch so that death might not find me without a sight of eternal things! If it does—if our bellies cleave to the dust and our eyes turn to the ground; if we are filled with other things, and death approaches—do you think it will be an easy thing to gather in your minds and affections to agree to it and welcome it? You will not find it so’ (Gospel Life, pp. 236-237).

This article first appeared in the December 2023 issue of the Banner of Truth Magazine, Issue 723. Buy the issue or subscribe.

The featured image (visible when the article is shared on social media) is Henry Bright’s On the Norfolk Broads (Yale Centre for British Art, Public Domain).

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The three sermons mentioned above can be read in Gospel Life, a Puritan Paperback which presents some of the material found in Volume 9 of The Works of John Owen.

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Thankfully, however, the men who contributed to these addresses on The Revival of Religion present us with a theology and practice of revivals which, if prayerfully read, will surely overcome these many objections. The authors of this volume knew that genuine revivals were as far removed from “extravagant fanaticism” as night is from day.² They believed this, in part, because they had experienced, and were living through, genuine times of revival.

In the forty years prior to these lectures, Scotland had been favoured with true revivals, for example, at Moulin in 1800; in Skye in 1814; in Arran in 1818; in Lewis, 1834; and at Kilsyth in 1839.³ This adds a special lustre to this book. It is no theoretical reflection on revival. Those who delivered these lectures knew what they wrote about. Indeed, it was “in consequence of… the time of refreshing” at Kilsyth that “it was thought expedient that a course of lectures should be delivered in Glasgow on the subject of Revivals of Religion, for the purpose of communicating right views and removing prejudices on that all-important topic.”

But it was no mere experience that formed these men’s views on revival. Indeed, references to contemporary events are remarkably few, either relating to revivals of the time, such as Kilsyth, or the momentous events which would lead to the formation of the Free Church of Scotland.⁴ Rather, it was theological conviction, born from a close study of Scripture and informed by church history which led these men to the views on revival that they held. And it is these timeless truths which are outlined in this volume.

Indeed, this volume forms a virtual systematic theology of revivals, addressing the nature of revival from almost every perspective. That in itself makes the book valuable. But the names of the authors themselves stand out as worthy of hearing on any topic, far less one as important as this. Consider the names of Robert Candlish, Patrick Fairbairn, A. Moody Stuart, Charles Brown, William Burns.⁵ When these men speak, we do well to listen. But what specifically do they say regarding revival?

Defining revival?

The original preface defined revival as “an unusual manifestation of the power of the grace of God in convincing and converting carelesssinners, and in quickening and increasing the faith and piety of
believers.” John Bonar, who contributes the chapter on “The Nature of a Religious Revival” agrees, stating that “Viewed then with respect to the church, a time of revival is a time of newness of life. Viewed with respect to the world, whether professing or openly careless, it is a time of multiplied conversions.” Revival, then, has a twofold effect. The dead world experiences life from the dead, and the existing life in the church is fanned into new flame. This is just an increase in the ordinary effectiveness of the work of the church.

Building on this, William Arnot, in his chapter on “The Godly Life of Believers,” helpfully outlines that “revival” is not a different species of religion, but simply a heightened blessing on the ordinary means of grace.⁶ He says, “There is no generic—there is not even a specific difference. The things are the same; they are one thing, but in different degrees. Sinners converted in greater numbers than usual, and saints more lively in their faith and love. There is no other difference.” William Burns, writing on “The Mode of Conducting a Revival” echoes this theme.⁷ He states, “A revival of religion is an unusually successful dispensation of religious ordinances, the effect of a copious effusion of the influences of divine grace; but in other respects it comes under the same rules with the more ordinary dispensation, where the effects of the word of grace are less obvious and prominent.”

This emphasis on “ordinary means of grace revivals” is helpful, and stands in contrast to man-made or “manufactured” revivals which are, according to the original Preface, “so mingled with errors, and lead to such abuses, that it is very dangerous to give them any countenance.” These were particularly a feature of revivals connected with “our American brethren” where “they have fallen into such multifarious errors and abuses, in their zealous attempts to ‘get up’ and ‘conduct’ revivals.”

Given this danger of “false” revivals there was “most urgent necessity for the exercise of the most sound religious prudence on the part of those who are friendly to the cause of revivals.” Correct views were to be determined by “the study of the word of God, in the spirit of humility, and teachableness, and prayer” which would lead to being “able to discriminate between what is essential and what is secondary and adventitious—between what is real and what is counterfeit—between what belongs to conversion and what to sympathetic excitement between what is God’s and what is man’s.” The men in this book, having followed this model, lay out their advice and conclusions. Their settled views on revivals, true and false, stand explicitly in the tradition of Jonathan Edwards and W. B. Sprague.⁸

The need for revival

For the authors of this book revival was to be deeply desired. The need for revival is greatest when, according to John Bonar, the condition of church and nation are spiritually low. He states, regarding the nation, revival is most needed “Where darkness is most visible… Where men have most grieved the Spirit of God, most quenched his influences, most striven against them, there is it most needful that he should not depart lest all should utterly perish in their own corruption.” He commented that “these I fear are the great leading features of our own times to a very awful and alarming extent. Infidelity, cold, careless, and inhuman, as it is God-denying, is boldly avowed by many. The Gospel is openly classed by such with the bygone impostures of a departing age; all its power is looked on as the deceit of men and all its claims as only new attempts to enthral the human mind.” If these things described Scotland in 1840, how much more most of the Western world as the second quarter of the twenty-first century begins. If there was need for revival in 1840, there is a tenfold need now! Bonar similarly felt a particular need of revival in his day, as the church had “been deeply affected by the atmosphere with which she has been surrounded, and in which she has too much lived and breathed”. As a result she had “become dim and unsteady; her trumpet has given an uncertain sound; her unity has become broken, and her enemies have triumphed over her.” Again, the parallel to today hardly needs to be drawn out. All to say that if there was a pressing desire for revival in the church in 1840, the urgency and fervour behind our desire today should be even greater.

The means of revival

If revival is needed, what can we humanly do to make it more likely? This is not an unspiritual question, for as the original preface notes, “No sane and intelligent Christian will deny, that even in the economy of grace, the result is not to be expected without the employment of means.” William Burns, who saw revival at Kilsyth, made the same point: “it is obvious that human agency is employed and that wisdom and zeal and activity… prudence… wise consultation, and… untiring watchfulness and activity, are to be called forth in the period of an awakening.” But what are the means to encourage revival? John M‘Naughtan in his address on “The Necessity of the Revival of Religion” notes that “There are two great duties incumbent on the church in all ages, the simultaneous discharge of which is essential to her prosperity, namely, the maintenance of the truth, and the propagation of it in the earth. She must hold fast the form of sound words; and she must go out into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature.”⁹ As these are the duties of the church in every age, faithfulness in these is the great means to promote and encourage revival. Under these general duties, prayer is the foremost means for encouraging revival. So, Alexander Cumming in his chapter on “Prayer” states, “Blessings of great magnitude are associated with ardour and perseverance in prayer.”¹⁰ He viewed this as the cause of the recent revivals in Scotland, positing that “perhaps the recent effusion of the Holy Ghost dispensed to some favoured localities in Scotland may be partly owing to the spirit of prayer awakened by the danger in which our establishment has been involved.” Cumming’s chapter on prayer is perhaps the most convicting and encouraging in the volume —how we need a greater spirit of prayer! William Burns joins Cumming in striking the same note: “It has been remarked, as an important and encouraging fact in the history of the revivals with which we are best acquainted, that the moving spring of them all has been prayer—believing, earnest, united; by a small number, it may have been only a very few at first, but immediately preceding the remarkable awakenings, by a greater number of Christians brought together, as on sacramental occasions.”

If prayer is the great engine of revival, then obviously believers should pray together frequently, and in particular as a gathered church. Burns makes a practical application of this point by “earnestly pressing upon my fathers and brethren in the ministry the duty and the privilege of having a weekly prayer meeting, wherever circumstances will allow of it, on some evening of the week, over which the minister should preside.” Whilst the particulars of how this is worked out may vary, the general call for a weekly corporate gathering for prayer is one that churches today need to heed, and Christians need to devote their time to. Surely none of us wish to fall under the censure of Charles Brown as he discusses “Symptoms and Fruits of Revival”, that “in dead churches there is little prayer.”¹¹

As well as prayer, preaching is the great means of revival. Burns comments, “while prayer, as we have seen, is the spirit of a revival of religion, the substance of a revival, the pillar and ground of all is the sound, zealous, pointed preaching of Christ.” For Burns this preaching of Christ, to be biblically faithful, had to leave the impression “God was in earnest in calling them, and willing to save them.” The free offer of the gospel is a central feature of preaching in times of revival. Related to this, the preaching that would be used in revival was, for Burns, “not distinguished by what is called talent; few of them exhibit marks of powerful genius… No attempt at oratorical display; no poetical description; no metaphysical dissertation; no learned criticism: but simple, practical truth forcibly presented, illustrated, and applied.” He said, “May the numbers of such preachers be increased a hundred-fold in all the churches; may the Lord pour out his Spirit more copiously on preachers and hearers; then there will be a speaking as of dying men to dying men, feeling themselves so!” This is a prayer we would all do well to take up.

Another means to encourage revival is the godly lives of believers. Bonar noted that “The only book of Christian doctrine or of Christian evidences, which most men can think of reading is the lives of professed Christians. From these they judge what it is to be a Christian, and what claims Christianity has upon them.” Arnot viewed church discipline as a means to encourage and to restore godly living in Christians: “Strict enforcement of discipline is a difficult thing, but it is essential: without it we have no good ground to expect a general revival.” Fasting was also important with Nathaniel Paterson lamenting, in his chapter on “Practical Addresses and Counsel” that “Fasting in not in our day denied to be an ordinance of God; but how seldom, how feebly and formally is it observed.”¹² What was true in general for all believers, was specifically true of the need for godliness in ministers. Arnot noted, “A minister’s example is at least of equal importance with his preaching.”

But all these means were as nothing without the blessing of the Spirit. Paterson so rightly calls us to acknowledge “the agency of the Spirit in the work of revival” and to see “how unavailing, without a divine power, all human efforts are.”

Hindrances to revival

But if there are means to encourage revival, there are also hindrances or impediments to revival. To a degree these are the inverse of the means to encourage revival. But there are important differences and additional factors.

Bonar notes that present lack of success can lead to a defeated and defeatist spirit which hinders revival. He says, “One great cause of this heartlessness is the want of [current] success… Conversion has become so rare that people have almost ceased to look for it… [or] to mourn over the want of it as a deadly symptom of their state. We live on and on from Sabbath to Sabbath, and meet and part from time to time, and no awakening amongst dead souls—no conversion, and yet no deep sense of the awfulness of such a state is felt.” The danger Bonar is highlighting is that we become content to be as we are—dispirited, with no expectations things will change.

Bonar is realistic about how hard it is to lift ourselves above circumstances where “the precious blessings of the gospel are everywhere despised and rejected by those who are perishing for lack of them.” But he is nonetheless clear it ought not to be so, “Our faith failed, and we thought our hope had perished from the Lord. Hence the heartlessness which had come so darkly over the work of the ministry, the work of the eldership, and the work of doing good to souls in general.” Patrick Fairbairn makes the same point in his contribution on “Hindrances to Revival of Religion” that we “are too much satisfied with things as they are, or disposed to make too much of the difficulties standing in the way of reformation.”¹³ If we have no expectation, no prayer in faith, this is undoubtedly a hindrance to revival.

Fairbairn also notes the impact of material circumstances, “the depressed and hard-wrought condition of the great mass of the people… furnishes them with a ready excuse for neglecting the means of grace, and tends, by excessive and long-continued employment about worldly things, to induce upon their whole feelings and character an impress and character most unfavourable to a work of genuine revival.” It is not “unspiritual” to acknowledge the impact of poverty, and so seek to address that. Abject poverty is a hindrance to spiritual work. However, Fairbairn is alert to the opposite danger of being overly concerned with the material and political. He noted that in his day, “from the highest to the lowest ranks of society every man is more or less a politician, and with multitudes politics form such an engrossing theme as to consume nearly the whole of their leisure thought and reading and converse.” This left no time for spiritual thought, and for higher concerns, and this too is a barrier to revival. However, perhaps the most serious hindrance to revival is unnecessary divisions among God’s people. Fairbairn again notes, “[A] great hindrance to a revival of religion, [is] the spirit of division and discord, which prevails in the church, and the consequent absence of that fervent love in which Christ enjoined his disciples with the utmost care and devotedness to walk.” M‘Naughtan says much the same: “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, by your love one to another—must not unnecessary division, unauthorised schism, provoke his displeasure, quench his Spirit, and result in the withholding of the grace without which the church must wither and weaken and decay?” The church is sadly all to familiar with this barrier to revival today.

Effects of revival

Despite these hindrances, the men who wrote this volume believed that revival was an ongoing feature of the church of Jesus Christ. Christ would not leave his church without days of blessing and favour. These times of revival, to return to the definition of revival, would not produce new experiences or fruits, but more of the ordinary fruits and graces of Christian experience. In particular, revival could be known, not just by a large number of conversions, but by an increased love for the ordinary means of grace.

So, Brown comments: “Wherever there is a genuine work of God in the soul, there will infallibly be a high regard for the sanctuary of God, for the Sabbath of God, for the mercy-seat of God, for the word of God; for the holy table of God, for the very instruments employed and blessed of God to the soul’s eternal welfare.” Or, again, “The delight of the living soul is in the God of the ordinances. It esteems them only as means of enjoying him. It loves the sanctuary, to behold his beauty, the communion table, as a place of meeting with him, the Sabbath, for the Lord of the Sabbath, the messengers, for their message—their work’s sake.”

True revival then does not produce a taste for the new or the novel. It creates a deep love and thirst for the greater experience of the known and the ordinary—public worship, the Lord’s Day, prayer, the hearing of the word, and the enjoyment of the sacraments. Conversely, the neglect of the Lord’s Day and decline in attendance at public worship, is a sure sign of a cool spiritual climate, and reveals a crying need for God’s people to be revived.

Another effect of revival is highlighted by Brown, namely that “Every revived church will be a missionary church. In living churches, the glory of Christ and the salvation of men will be deemed the business of every man.” An insular church, a church that does not live and breathe evangelistic passion, a church which is not a missionary church, is a church desperately in need of renewal. It is to be feared this renewal is needed in many otherwise sound and conservative churches. Revival would certainly lead every affected church to greater evangelistic zeal and a burden for conversions flowing out into practical outreach.

Revival and Christian union

But there is one further effect of revival that is too significant to subsume among others. And that is an increased unity among Christians. Bonar commented on the sad state of things in his day, “Never for instance were brethren more unworthily or unhappily divided than they have been of late.” Matters have become dramatically worse in the intervening 184 years. However, Bonar went on to say so helpfully and hopefully:

It is gloriously impossible for those who are reconciled to God in Christ Jesus to be permanently unreconciled to one another, and a time of revival, bringing out all the great realities in which they are at one, and sinking all the minor points on which they are divided, has a blessed tendency to unite their hearts, and so gradually to unite their hands in the work of the Lord… It is sweet to find that the divided and separated body of Christ is yet one. It is sweet to discover, beneath the rents at which the world has so long mocked, cords of love still, which bind them fast together by binding them all to one great centre, and that centre Christ.

No less pertinently and profoundly Brown commented:

I believe, brethren, that in one day the outpouring of the Spirit would extinguish the fire of a hundred controversies. The grand spring of discord is pride. Men once brought to their knees… might by duty be forced, but assuredly would not by inclination be drawn into the field of contention. What is the source of many of our keenest controversies? It is the low state of vital religion… Disputes and discords rush in to fill up the very vacuum. In such a soil, to change the figure, disputes of their own accord spring up in rank luxuriance. I am quite well aware that, in existing circumstances, many controversies must be continued; but let the church only be revived—let a spirit of faith and holiness be but extensively poured forth—and the circumstances will change; and we shall find far too much to do in setting ourselves against the common enemy, to have either leisure or heart for conflicts and contentions among ourselves.

There are few greater needs than increased unity among true Christians. The fairest flower of genuine revival among God’s people will be an increased eagerness to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Eph. 4:3).

Eschatology

Perhaps the feature of this volume least likely to receive a favourable hearing is the underlying postmillennial eschatology. This appears infrequently through the book but is the focus of John Lorimer’s chapter, “Encouragements from the Promises and Prophecies of Scripture.”¹⁴ The relation of an optimistic eschatology to evangelistic endeavour and hope for revival will be familiar to readers of Iain Murray’s The Puritan Hope.¹⁵ Those who have read Murray will know Lorimer does not set out a peculiar understanding of the future of the church, but a (perhaps the) common view of the leading divines of the seventeenth to mid-nineteenth centuries.

So, when Lorimer asks “Is there anything to encourage Christians to expect and pray and labour for a revival of religion among their fellow men?” and answers that the word of God holds out “assurances and prophecies of a day of coming universal religious revival” he is simply rehearsing the Reformed teaching he was brought up in. This vision is explicitly postmillennial: “The Millennium shall have its thousand years of joy.” However, this vision is not to be confused with the hopes of the later liberal Protestantism. No, Lorimer comments, “what a contrast is true Christianity to all the systems of man—intellectual or moral or religious, philosophical or superstitious! They can boast of no age of future glory; they have no hope with which to cheer the hearts of their adherents. They may talk of a return of the golden age; but they delude themselves with dreams, their age is an age of iron, and the longer they reign their darkness and tyranny are always the more despotic and hopeless.” Lorimer’s future “golden age” for the church was not to be achieved through human progress, but a by a mighty outpouring of the Spirit.

Nevertheless, Lorimer’s explicit postmillennialism is likely to leave many unpersuaded. However, what should be persuasive is the underlying message of Lorimer’s chapter: that the church has a great task (Matt. 28:19-20) and great promises (John 16:8), and that the church can therefore confidently and expectantly pray for revival.

Other themes

There are too many other themes in this book to dwell long on them. Jonathan Anderson provides a wonderful short explication of the person and work of Christ.¹⁶ Alexander Moody Stuart is equally helpful on the work of the Holy Spirit.¹⁷ Michael Willis provides a wonderful balance on God’s sovereignty.¹⁸ Robert Candlish has much to say on value of preaching generally, and on not neglecting the ordinary means of grace or using lack of revival as an excuse.¹⁹ James Munro provides a run-through of biblical “revivals” and historical revivals, focusing, naturally, on Scotland though also giving attention to the Methodist revivals around the time of Whitefield and Wesley.²⁰

Conclusion

This is a significant volume. The need for revival is great. A prayerful reading of this volume will reveal to us the many ways, tragically, we are hindering revival. It will likewise call us to positive action to use all the means likely, under God’s sovereign blessing, to bring about conditions favourable for revival. Above all it will, surely, take us to the throne of grace, to plead with our merciful Father, Psalm 85:4-6 (ESV): “Restore us again, O God of our salvation, and put away your indignation toward us! Will you be angry with us forever? Will you prolong your anger to all generations? Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?”

DONALD JOHN MacLEAN
President, Westminster Seminary UK
Trustee, The Banner of Truth Trust
December 2024

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