Well, it’s Thursday already, and I find myself apologizing again for having nothing to say this week. I have actually written or begun to write several exceedingly astute and vitally important articles, but on closer examination, found them to be far less astute and important that they claimed to be. Some of them were reactionary diatribes, and I hate those. Anyone can troll the web and react to or comment on someone else’s work. Sometimes that is good and necessary, but more often it is lazy, contentious, or both. There are several things I would like to comment on, but very often I find that my comments do not really add anything positive to the mess. So, I have shelved several topics until my attitude improves. However, I don’t want to entirely waste my present cantankerous mood, so here are a few language offenses that really have to stop. Yes, these things really do irritate me. Irritability is my spiritual gift. So, for your edification, the list:

“24/7.” This one was clever for about five minutes, but like all clichés, became tiresome after being repeated 24/7.*

“…on so many levels.” This does not mean “in many different ways,” no matter how badly you want it to.

Periods after every word in a sentence, like this: Dumbest. Fad. Ever.

“From the get-go.” Where is the get-go? What is a get-go? It’s not the beginning. Beginning is spelled b-e-g-i-n-n-i-n-g.

“From day one.” Same as above, this just means “I’m too cool to say what I mean in plain English.”

“Been there, done that, [uber-cool option: ‘got the t-shirt’].” Whoa, Dude, I am sooo totally cool! Not only do I understand what you’re talking about, I can tell you so without being reduced to using actual sentences with nouns and stuff!

“I’m like…” “He’s like…” “She’s like…” does not mean “I/He/She said (or thought)…” It means “I’m stupid.”

This is by no means a comprehensive list. Please feel free to add others in the comments. Maybe if we can round up a large enough collection of ignorant, over-used slang phrases, we can get together and have a cliché burning party some night.

To say my blogging has slowed considerably in the past couple of weeks would be an understatement. In fact, to call that statement an understatement is an understatement, especially following the previous few weeks of consistency. I really do not know what I should credit with that spurt of relative prolificacy (for me). It began, undeniably, with the Challies King for a Week nomination, which was a big motivator. However, motivation is not inspiration, and I seem to be lacking that necessary inspiration these days. I have recently received and just today begun reading The Christian in Complete Armour (thanks for the recommendations). Included is a biography of the author by J.C. Ryle, who acknowledges his main source, identified only as “a writer named M’Keon,” whose biography of Gurnall is said to be factually helpful, but poorly written. Ryle makes the following statement of M’Keon, which I found quite descriptive of me.

In accumulating facts he was most successful; in arranging them and exhibiting them to the reading public I certainly think he failed. He seems, in fact, to have been a type of that peculiar class of men who have the faculty of getting things into their heads, while they are unable to bring them out again—mighty at heaping up knowledge, but impotent at spreading it—clever at accumulating literary knowledge, but utterly incapable of spending it.

I have had several things on my mind that I could easily ramble on about, but nothing coherent enough to merit the attention of you, my forbearing readers. Under these circumstances, it has seemed best to do what most of us ought to do more of: shut up and listen; so that is what I intend to do. Until I have something original to say (Ecclesiastes 1:9), I am not going to say anything—you’re welcome, don’t mention it. Instead, I will pass on to you some of what I am reading, usually with little or no comment. Today, I give you a quote from the previously mentioned The Christian in Complete Armour that I find especially pertinent to my own habits:

A chief part of David’s arithmetic of numbering our days, lies in that which we call division, as to cast the account of this our short life so as to divide the little whole sum thereof into the several portions of time due for performing of every duty in. An instrument is not in tune, except it have all the strings, and these will not make good music, if the musician hath not wisdom to cause every string to speak in its due time. The Christian is not in tune, except he takes in all the duties of his place and calling, neither will the performance of them be harmonious in God’s ear, if every one be not done in its proper season. O my friends, labour not only to do the duty of your place, but that duty in its own place also. Hear when you should hear. Know your time for closet, and time for shop; and when your retiring time comes, a few minutes now and then spent in taking a repetition of what you formerly heard, shall not, I hope, another day be reckoned with your lost time.

I can’t believe I forgot Presidents’ Day this year. No, not that Presidents’ Day, on which we honor liars, philanderers, fools, and treasonous men who trample the Constitution underfoot alongside men who served their country honorably with integrity and truly deserve a day of honor. That one is coming up. Presidents’ Day, for me, will always be February 6th, the birthday of the greatest man to occupy the Whitehouse at least during my lifetime, President Ronald Reagan.

If you’ve been following Mark Lauterbach’s series on The Measure of a Sermon, which I have linked in OnTheWeb, you’ve already read the following quote:

[W]hile conviction is a gift to us, it is always conviction to lead people to the cross. I know the arguments about people needing to be slain by the law --- and agree that awareness of need of forgiveness is crucial. But if I leave them there, I have not been faithful to the Savior. Conviction should drive people to the cross -- and they should leave with hope toward the Savior. [full article »]

This article really resonates with me. I have spent the majority of my life so far thinking that a good sermon was one that was hard-hitting and left me with the feeling that “I’ve got to do better.” Then I would go out and try really hard to do better, succeeding to some degree, but failing over all. It wasn’t until just a few years ago that I came to see the folly of the kind of moralistic preaching that I had thought was so good.

Don’t take me wrong. I do not believe that the purpose of the Law is merely to bludgeon me on the head and send me, helpless, to the cross, as some say. I believe the Law actually represents God’s will for my behavior. (This simple statement should not be taken as a complete expression of my opinion on the subject; but I don’t want to go into that now.) But if all a sermon, or our witness, accomplishes is to convict us of our sin and send us away trying harder, all it has done is make us more dependent on ourselves, more self-righteous, and more doomed to fail. And I can testify to years of my life when that was exactly my condition, when my religion was all about me and how well I was doing in getting myself sanctified—and I failed, over and over, because the solution was always in myself and my better efforts.

Sin must be addressed. When a text is preached that deals with sin, it ought to result in conviction for any listening child of God. But what then? Our response ought not to be, “I’ve got to try harder,” but “I need to draw closer to my Savior. I need to cling to his Word. I need to stay close to Jesus, where no sin can dwell.” That is where the conviction of sin should lead. If it doesn’t, the result will only be a better legalist.

The cure for my sin is not my righteousness, but Christ’s righteousness.

The following is a quote from The Christian in Complete Armour by William Gurnall. It is rather long, but well worth reading and rereading.

[Why the saint’s strength is laid up in God.]

Reason First. The first reason may be taken from the nature of the saints and their grace. Both are creatures, they and their grace also. Now, ‘it is in the very nature of the creature to depend on God its Maker,’ both for being and operation. Can you conceive an accident to be out of its subject, whiteness out of the wall, or some other subject? It is as impossible that the creature should be, or act without strength from God. This to be, act in and of himself, is so incommunicable a property of the Deity, that he cannot impart it to his creature. God is, and there is none besides him. When God made the world, it is said indeed he ended his work, that is, of creation: he made no new species and kinds of creatures more; but to this day he hath not ended his work of providence: ‘My Father worketh hitherto,’ saith Christ, Jn. v. 17, that is, in preserving and empowering what he hath made with strength to be and act, and therefore he is said to hold our souls in life. Works of art, which man makes, when finished, may stand some time without the workman’s help, as the house, when the carpenter has made it is dead; but God’s works, both of nature and grace, are never off his hand, and therefore as the Father is said to work hitherto for the preservation of the works of nature, so the Son, to whom is committed the work of redemption, he tells us, worketh also. Neither ended he his work when he rose again, any otherwise than his Father did in the work of creation. God made an end of making, so Christ made an end of purchasing mercy, grace, and glory for believers, by once dying; and as God rested at the end of the creation, so he, when he had wrought eternal redemption, and ‘by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the majesty on high,’ He. i. 3. But he ceaseth not to work by his intercession with God for us, and by his Spirit in us for God, whereby he upholds his saints, their graces, and comforts in life, without which they would run to ruin. Thus we see as grace is a creature, the Christian depends on God for his strength. But further,

Reason Second. The Christian’s grace is not only a creature, but a weak creature, conflicting with enemies stronger than itself, and therefore cannot keep the field without an auxiliary strength from heaven. The weakest goes to the wall, if no succour comes in. Grace in this life is but weak, like a king in the cradle, which gives advantage to Satan to carry on his plots more strongly to the disturbance of this young king’s reign in the soul, yea, he would soon make an end of the war in the ruin of the believer’s grace, did not Heaven take the Christian into protection. It is true indeed, grace, whereever it is, hath a principle in itself that makes it desire and endeavour to preserve itself according to its strength, but being overpowered must perish, except assisted by God, as fire in greenwood, which deads and damps the part kindled, will in time go out, except blown up, or more fire put to that little; so will grace in the heart. God brings his grace into the heart by conquest. Now, as in a conquered city, though some yield and become true subjects to the conqueror, yet others plot how they may shake off this yoke; and therefore it requires the same power to keep, as was to win it at first. The Christian hath an unregenerate part, that is discontented at this new change in the heart, and disdains as much to come under the sweet government of Christ’s sceptre, as the Sodomites that Lot should judge them. What, this fellow, a stranger, control us! And Satan heads this mutinous rout against the Christian, so that if God should not continually reinforce this his new planted colony in the heart, the very natives (I mean corruptions) that are left, would come out of their dens and holes where they lie lurking, and eat up the little grace the holiest on earth hath; it would be as bread to these devourers.

Reason Third. A third demonstration may be taken from the grand design which God propounds to himself in the saint’s salvation; yea, in the transaction of it from first to last. And that is twofold. 1. God would bring his saints to heaven in such a way as might be most expressive of his dear love and mercy to them. 2. He would so express his mercy and love to them, as might rebound back to him in the highest advance of his own glory possible. Now how becoming this is to both, that saints should have all their ability for every step they take in the way to heaven, will soon appear.

1. Design. God would bring his saints to heaven in such a way as might be most expressive of his dear love and mercy to them. This way of communicating strength to saints, gives a double accent to God’s love and mercy.

(1.) It distils a sweetness into all the believer hath or doth, when he finds any comfort in his bosom, any enlargement of heart in duty, any support under temptations, to consider whence came all these, what friend sends them in. They come not from my own cistern, or any creature’s. O it is my God that hath been here, and left his sweet perfume of comfort behind him in my bosom! my God that hath unawares to me filled my sails with the gales of his Spirit, and brought me off the flats of my own deadness, where I lay aground. O, it is his sweet Spirit that held my head, stayed my heart in such an affliction and temptation, or else I had gone away in a fainting fit of unbelief. How can this choose but endear God to a gracious soul? His succours coming so immediately from heaven, which would be lost, if the Christian had any strength to help himself (though this stock of strength came at first from God). Which, think you, speaks more love and condescent: for a prince to give a pension to a favourite, on which he may live by his own care, or for this prince to take the chief care upon himself, and come from day to day to this man’s house, and look into his cupboard and see what provision he hath, what expense he is at, and so constantly to provide for the man from time to time? Possibly some proud spirit that likes to be his own man, or loves his means better than his prince, would prefer the former, but one that is ambitious to have the heart and love of his prince would be ravished with the latter. Thus God doth with his saints. The great God comes and looks into their cupboard, and sees how they are laid in, and sends in accordingly as he finds them. ‘Your heavenly Father knows you have need of these things,’ and you shall have them. He knows you need strength to pray, [to] hear, [to] suffer for him, and, in ipsâ horâ dabitur, ‘in the very hour it will be given.’

(2.) This way of God’s dealing with his saints adds to the fulness and stability of their strength. Were the stock in our own hands, we should soon prove broken merchants. God knows we are but leaking vessels, when fullest we could not hold it long; and therefore to make all sure, he sets us under the streamings forth of his strength, and a leaking vessel under a cock gets what it loseth. Thus we have our leakage supplied continually. This was the provision God made for Israel in the wilderness: He clave the rock, and the rock followed them. They had not only a draught at present, but it ran in a stream after them, so that you hear no more of their complaints for water. This rock was Christ Every believer hath Christ at his back, following him with strength as he goes, for every condition and trial. One flower with the root is worth many in a posie, which though sweet yet do not grow, but wither as we wear them in bosoms. God’s strength as the root keeps lively, without which, though as orient as Adam’s was, it would die.

Once, when I was visiting at a cousin’s house, I overheard a conversation between my cousin and his father (my uncle). My cousin owns a service station/convenience store, and he had just hired someone whom his father judged to be of dubious character. My cousin commented, with a touch of irony, to this effect: “That’s true, but sometimes we have to accept the fact that everyone is not as wonderful as we are.”

A few years ago I was visiting with a good friend of mine when the subject of a mutual acquaintance came up. I made a somewhat snide comment about a particular character flaw in this individual, to which my friend replied, “Yeah, I know. That’s something I’ve had to ignore in order to remain friends with him.”

I present these two anecdotes as a lesson that has affected my thinking more than it should have. I say “more than it should have,” not because it is wrong, but because it is not particularly profound, and because I should already have been thinking along those lines. Instead, both of those occasions were epiphanies. Now perhaps you are thinking, “Man, you must have been a real jerk!” Well, yes, I was, and sometimes still am. It is not easy to tolerate faults in others, especially when they are so many. Verily, everyone is not as wonderful as I! Some people are irritating and downright stupid. Can anyone deny it? Yet, we must be forbearing.

I’m not talking about overlooking blatant sin, or lowering our “standards” (assuming those standards are Biblical); but we ought to be understanding and tolerant, knowing that we are not without our own faults. Ephesians 4 exhorts us to “walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love” (vv. 1-2), and to “be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you” (v. 32).

When my friend said, “Yeah, I know. That’s something I’ve had to ignore in order to remain friends with him,” I was instantly smitten with this thought: I wonder what he has had to overlook in order to remain friends with me?

The saints’ dependence on God, and expectation from God in all their straits, oblige his power for their succour. Whither doth a gracious soul fly in any want or danger from sin, Satan,or his instruments, but to his God? As naturally as the cony to her burrow. ‘What time I am afraid,’ saith David, ‘I will trust in thee,’ Ps lvi. 3. He tells God he will make bold of his house to step into when taken in any storm, and doth not question his welcome. Thus when Saul hunted him, he left a city of gates and bars to trust God in open field. Indeed all the saints are taught the same lesson, to renounce their own strength, and rely on the power of God; their own policy, and cast themselves on the wisdom of God; their own righteousness, and expect all from the pure mercy of God in Christ, which act of faith is so pleasing to God, that such a soul shall never be ashamed, ‘The expectation of the poor shall not perish,’ Ps. ix. 18. A heathen could say, when a bird scared by a hawk flew into his bosom, I will not betray thee unto thy enemy, seeing thou comest for sanctuary unto me. How much less will God yield up a soul unto its enemy when it takes sanctuary in his name, saying, ‘Lord, I am hunted with such a temptation, dogged with such a lust, either thou must pardon it, or I am damned; mortify it, or I shall be a slave to it; take me into the bosom of thy love, for Christ’s sake; castle me in the arms of thy everlasting strength, it is in thy power to save me from, or give me up into, the hands of my enemy. I have no confidence in myself or any other: into thy hands I commit my cause, my life, and rely on thee.’ This dependence of a soul undoubtedly will awaken the almighty power of God for such a one’s defence. He hath sworn greatest oath that can come out of his blessed lips, even by himself, that such as thus fly for refuge to hope in him, shall have strong consolation, He. vi. 17. This indeed may give the saints the greater boldness of faith to expect kindly entertainment when he repairs to God for refuge, because he cannot come before he is looked for. God having set up his name and promises as a strong tower, both calls his people into these chambers, and expects they should betake themselves thither.

—William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour (Banner of Truth Trust, 2002).