Watch this video of James White refuting Norman Geisler, especially if you are an Arminian (or one of those mythical “neither Calvinist nor Arminian” creatures). The first person to point out the glaring inconsistency — on Dr. White’s part, not Geisler’s — will receive a free copy of The Potter’s Freedom, compliments of the Thirsty Theologian.

I suppose this makes me a fad-following nerd, but here it is: the Thirsty Theologian “Wordled.” Actually, it’s just last month’s archive. For some reason it wouldn’t do the front page.

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

HYMN X
My name is JACOB. Gen. xxxii. 27.
by John Newton (1725-1807)

AY, I cannot let Thee go,
Till a blessing thou bestow;
Do not turn away thy face,
Mine’s an urgent pressing case.

Dost thou ask me, who I am?
Ah, my Lord, thou know’st my name!
Yet the question gives a plea,
To support my suit with thee.

Thou didst once a wretch behold,
In rebellion blindly bold;
Scorn thy grace, thy pow’r defy,
That poor rebel, Lord, was I.

Once a sinner near despair,
Sought thy mercy–seat by prayer;
Mercy heard and set him free,
Lord, that mercy came to me.

Many years have pass’d since then,
Many changes I have seen;
Yet have been upheld till now,
Who could hold me up but thou?

Thou hast help’d in every need,
This emboldens me to plead;
After so much mercy past,
Canst thou let me sink at last?

No—I must maintain my hold,
’Tis thy goodness makes me bold;
I can no denial take,
When I plead for Jesu’s sake.

—from Olney Hymns. Book I: On select Passages of Scripture.

salme 130
(Geneva Bible)
A song of degrees.
1 Out of the deepe places haue I called vnto thee, O Lord.
2 Lord, heare my voyce: let thine eares attend to the voyce of my prayers.
3 If thou, O Lord, straightly markest iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?
4 But mercie is with thee, that thou mayest be feared.
5 I haue waited on the Lord: my soule hath waited, and I haue trusted in his worde.
6 My soule waiteth on the Lord more then the morning watch watcheth for the morning.
7 Let Israel waite on the Lord: for with the Lord is mercie, and with him is great redemption.
8 And he shall redeeme Israel from all his iniquities.

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

O God, I thirst for you; I long to be in your presence.
Surely, you have not forgotten me!

Lift up my downcast soul; still the turmoil within me.
Let the roar of your waterfalls thunder in my ears;
and let me be immersed in you
as your waves break over me.

I praise you for your steadfast love,
and the song you have given me—
a prayer to you, the God of my life.

Praise you, O Lord,
my rock,
my salvation,
my God.

Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
What a Father’s smile is thine,
What thy Savior died to win thee;
Child of heaven, should’st thou repine?

—from the hymn “Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken” by Henry F. Lyte, quoted by Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 78.

Sinclair Ferguson on the giving of the Holy Spirit:

. . . the coming of the Spirit indicated that a heavenly transaction had taken place. The often-overlooked words of Acts 2:33 record it: “being exalted to the right hand of God, and havin received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit. . . .”
   Here, momentarily, a door into heaven is opened and we are given a glimpse into the fellowship between the Son and the Father. The ascended Son comes to the Father. What will he say? “Father, do you remember what you promised the Great King? You said, ‘Ask of me, and I will give you the nations for your inheritance, and the ends of the earth for your possession’ (Ps. 2:8). You said about the Suffering Servant, ‘Behold, My Servant . . . Kings shall shut their mouths at him. . . . He shall see his seed, He shall prolong His days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand. . . . I will divide Him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong, because he poured out his soul unto death . . .’ (Isa. 52:13, 15; 53:10, 12). Father, fulfill your promises to me.”
   How was this world-wide dominion to be established? All authority now belonged to Jesus. He had promised that the disciples would receive the Holy Spirit and He would give them power to become witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and then to the ends of the earth. The disciples, therefore, would go into all the world proclaiming Jesus. He would be with them to the end—through the presence of the Spirit-witness.

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 90–91.

Sinclair Ferguson on revival:

   In his Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God, Jonathan Edwards draws on 1 John 4 to show that all true works of God share several features:
   1. A high esteem for Christ.
   2. The overthrow of Satan’s Kingdom in our hearsts.
   3. A reverent view of, and close attention to, God’s Word in Scripture.
   4. The presence of the Spirit of truth convincing us of the reality of eternity and the depth of our sin and need.
   5. A deep love for both God and man.
   But what does this mean in real-life terms?

A Microcosmic View

. . . Many years ago, I witnessed revival in its most microcosmic form in a sudden, unexpected, and remarkable work of God’s Spirit on a friend. The work was so dramatic, the effect so radical, that news of it spread quickly to different parts of the country. . . . I [asked] my friend . . . What this remarkable experience had involved. The answer was illuminating. Five things seemed to have happened . . .
   1. A painful exposure of the particular sin of unbelief occurred. Listening to preaching was a staple of my friend’s spiritual diet, but what came with overpowering force was a sense that God’s Word had actually been despised inwardly. God’s own Word, preached in the power of the Spirit, stripped away the mask of inner pride and outward reputation for spirituality. There was a fearful exposure to sin.
   2. A powerful desire arose to be free from all sin. A new affection came, as if unbidden, into the heart. Indeed, a desire seemed to be given actually to have sin increasingly revealed and exposed in order that it might be confessed, pardoned, and cleansed. Disturbing though it was, there was a sweetness of grace in the pain.
   3. The love of Christ now seemed marvelous beyond measure. A love for Him flowed from a heart that could not get enough of Christ, ransacking Scripture to discover more and more about Him.
   4. A new love for God’s Word was born—for reading it, for hearing it expounded and applied, and especially for knowing every expression of God’s will, so that it might be obeyed.
   5. A compassionate love for others now flowed. It came from this double sense of sin and need on the one hand and grace and forgiveness on the other. Christian witness ceased to be a burdenand became the ecpression of Spirit-wrought and powerful new affections.
   It was thus for King David:

Have mercy upon me, O God . . . According to the multitude of Your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. Against You, You only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Your sight. . . . Purge me . . . Wash me. . . . Create in me a clean heart, O God. . . . My tongue shall sing aloud of your righteousness.

—Psalm 51:1–4, 7, 10, 14

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 103–104.

Sinclair Ferguson laments the desire of many for direct revelation from God:

Why, then, should Christians today—by contrast with their fathers—be so thirsty to experience immediate personal revelation from God (“God told me . . .”) when His desire for us is the ongoing work of the Spirit opening up our understanding through mediated revelation of the New Testament?
   There seem to be three reasons:
   1. It may appear to be more exciting, more obviously supernatural, to have direct revelation rather than Bible revelation. It seems to many people to be more “spiritual,” more “divine,” more “personal.”
   2. To many people, it feels much more convincing to be able to say, “God told me . . .” than to say, “The Bible tells me. . . .”
   3. Direct revelation makes it unnecessary to engage in painstaking Bible study and careful consideration of Christian doctrine in order to know the will of God. By comparison with immediate revelation, Bible study seems—to be frank—boring. Although rarely said, underlying all of this is a sinister thought: the Bible is not very clear. By contrast, it is assumed that direct revelation cannot possibly be misunderstood.

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 107.

While I agree that all three of Ferguson’s reasons are correct, I think the third is the most common, and perhaps the one that leads to rationalizing (I know, an odd word in this context) the first two. I believe most Christians are just too lazy to do the hard work of Bible study. The less apathetic among them fall back on the entirely sentimental reasons one and two.

All this is very sad, because those people are going to learn absolutely nothing from God, because God is not going to speak to them. Yes, my subjectively-guided friend, you read that right. If you claim that God has spoken to you, I don’t believe you. I don’t think you are lying (unless you say it on TBN; then I’m quite convinced you’re making it up); I just think you are deluded, mistaking the voices in your head for the Holy Spirit.

Conversely, if you are willing to buckle down and “be diligent to present yourself approved to God as a workman who does not need to be ashamed, accurately handling the word of truth,”* you will “[increase] in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man,”† and be “[sanctified] in the truth.”‡

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Planning on buying a motorcycle? Show your wife this, but not this (pardon the “music”).

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

PETITIONARY HYMNS
POEM VIII. John xiv. 17. He dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.
Augustus Toplady (1740–1778)

Savior, I thy word believe,
   My unbelief remove;
Now thy quick’ning Spirit give,
   The unction from above;
Shew me, Lord, how good thou art,
   My soul with all thy fulness fill:
Send the witness in my heart
   The Holy Ghost reveal.

Dead in sin ’till then I lie,
   Bereft of power to rise;
Till thy Spirit inwardly
   Thy saving blood applies:
Now the mighty gift impart,
   My sin erase, my pardon seal:
Send the witness, in my heart
   The Holy Ghost reveal.

Blessed Comforter, come down,
   And live and move in me;
Make my every deed thy own,
   In all things led by thee:
Bid my every lust depart,
   And with me O vouchsafe to dwell;
Faithful witness, in my heart
   Thy perfect light reveal.

Let me in thy love rejoice,
   Thy shrine, thy pure abode;
Tell me, by thine inward voice,
   That I’m a child of God:
Lord, I choose the better part,
   Jesus, I wait thy peace to feel;
Send the witness in my heart
   The Holy Ghost reveal.

Whom the world cannot receive,
   O manifest in me:
Son of God, I cease to live,
   Unless I live in thee
Now impute thy whole desert,
   Restore the joy from which I fell:
Breathe the witness, in my heart
   The Holy Ghost reveal.

—The Complete Works of Augustus Toplady (Sprinkle Publications, 1987).

Psalme 137
(Geneva Bible)

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

James 5:14–18:

14 Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. 15 And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. 16 Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. 17 Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth. 18 Then he prayed again, and heaven gave rain, and the earth bore its fruit.

Sinclair Ferguson on “the prayer of faith”:

. . . in the past century and a half, much has been written and said particularly about “the prayer of faith.” The focus has been on mountain-moving prayer by which we simply “claim” things from God with confidence that we will receive them because we believe that He will give them.
   But what exactly is the prayer of faith?

Association with the Dramatic

Interestingly, it is in the letter of James (who has so much to say about works) that the term occurs. It climaxes the marvelous teaching on prayer that punctuates the entire letter (see 1:5–8; 4:2–3; 5:13–18). . . .
   Elijah’s praying is used as an example not because it produce miracle-like effects but because it gives us one of the clearest of all illustrations of what it means for anyone to pray with faith: it is believing God’s revealed Word, taking hold of His covenant commitment to it, and asking Him to keep it.

The Prayer of a Righteous Person

Shutting up the heavens was not, after all, a novel idea that originated in the fertile mind of Elijah. In fact, it was the fulfillment of the promised curse of the covenant Lord: “If you do not obey the Lord your God . . . these curses will come upon you. . . . The sky over your head will be bronze, the ground beneath you iron. The Lord will turn the rain of your country into dust and powder” (Deut. 28:15, 22–24, NIV). . . .
   This, then, is the prayer of faith: to ask God to accomplish what He has promised in His Word. That promise is the only ground for our confidence in asking. Such confidence in not “worked up” from within our emotional life; rather, it is given and supported by what God has said in Scripture.
   Truly “Righteous” men and women of faith know the value of their heavenly Father’s promises. They go to Him, as children do to a loving human father. They know that if they can say to an earthly father, “But, father, you promised . . . ,” they can both persist in asking and be confident that he will keep his word. How much more our heavenly Father, who has given His Son for our salvation! We have no other grounds of confidence that He hears our prayers, we need none.

Legitimate Prayer

. . . Some Christians find this disappointing. It seems to remove the mystique from the prayer of faith. Are we not tying down our faith to ask only for what God already had promised? But such disappointment reveals a spiritual malaise: would we rather devise our own spirituality (preferably spectacular) than God’s (frequently modest)?
   The struggles we sometimes experience in prayer, then, are often part of the process by which God gradually brings us to ask for only what He has promised to give, the struggle is not our wrestling to bring him to give us what we desire, but our wrestling with His Word until we are illuminated and subdued by it, saying, “Not my will, but Your will be done.” Then, as Calvin again says, we learn “not to ask for more that God allows.”
   This is why true prayer can never be divorced from real holiness. The prayer of faith can be made only be the “righteous” man whose life is being more and more aligned with the covenant grace and purposes of God. In the realm of prayer, too (since it is a microcosm of the whole of the Christian life), faith (prayer to the covenant Lord) without works (obedience to the covenant Lord) is dead.

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 145–147.

What are the most beautiful words you’ve ever heard? You might be thinking of several possibilities: the first time you heard the words “I love you” from your spouse; news that a seriously ill or injured loved one would recover, or some impending disaster had been averted; or any number of things that would be cause for great joy.

I believe the most beautiful phrase ever spoken begins with, of all things, the word but. We don’t normally think of but as a prelude to good news. Maybe your boss has said, “You’re doing a good job, but . . .” What young man (except me, of course) hasn’t heard, “I like you, but . . .” from a young lady. What follows the but is seldom good. But is most often not a word we want to hear.

But . . .

Add one word to that but, and everything changes. That word (if you are a child of God) is God.

Hunted by enemies:

And David stayed in strongholds in the wilderness, and remained in the mountains in the Wilderness of Ziph. Saul sought him every day, but God did not deliver him into his hand. (1 Samuel 23:14)

Weak and faltering:

My flesh and my heart fail; But God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever. (Psalm 73:26)

Struggling with temptation:

No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it. (1 Corinthians 10:13)

We are constantly in need of God’s intervention. We live in need of but God . . .

Nowhere is this phrase displayed in more glorious beauty than in Ephesians 2:

1 And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins; 2 in which you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit who now works in the sons of disobedience, 3 among whom also we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by nature children of wrath, just as others. 4 But God, who is rich in mercy, because of his great love with which he loved us, 5 even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), 6 and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, 7 that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. 8 For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, 9 not of works, lest any man should boast.

We were dead in sin; we lived in a worldly manner, led by Satan himself; and we kept company among others of our kind, satisfying our lusts, bringing upon ourselves the wrath of God . . .

but God

. . . loved us anyway, inspite of our wretched sinfulness, raised us to life, and, purely by grace, gave us the gift of saving faith, and has given us citizenship in his kingdom with Christ. For what purpose? That he might demonstrate the glory of his grace toward us in Christ.

We were dead — but God!

Sinclair Ferguson on persecution and suffering:

In God’s workshop in this world, suffering is the raw material out of which glory is forged (1 Peter 1:7; 4:12–13). That is standard New Testament teaching. But there is a subtle development of it in Peter: “If you are reproached for the name of Christ, blessed are you, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you” (1 Peter 4:14, emphasis added).
   The prospect of future glory has been a great consolation to believers throughout the ages. But Peter is saying more than that. Glory belongs not only to the “there and then”; it is part of the “here and now” of suffering. The Spirit who uses our sufferings to produce glory gives advance indications of the final product in the lives of believers.
   We get a glimpse of that sometimes in older Christians who have seen trials; we see that there is a grace in them that eludes definition. It is etched into their lives from beyond. A touch of the glory of the future world seems already to clothe them in the present one.
   Peter’s bottom line is this: don’t be surprised by suffering (1 Peter 4:12).
   But how can twenty-first-century Christians be un-surprised in times of suffering? We can only do so by being delivered from a faulty understanding of what it means to be a Christian. Jesus was crucified by this world. To become a Christian means by definition to follow a cross-bearing Savior and Lord. it means to be identified with Him in such a way that opposition to Him will inevitably touch us.
   Paul said that he bore in his body the marks of Jesus (Gal. 5:16). So perhaps we should ask:

Hast thou no scar?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land;
I hear them hail thy bright, ascendant star.
Hast thou no scar?

Hast thou no wound?
Yet, I was wounded by the archers, spent.
Leaned me against the tree to die, and rent
By ravening wolves that compassed Me, I swooned:
Hast thou no wound?

No wound, no scar?
Yet as the Master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet that follow Me.
But thine are whole. Can he have followed far
Who hast no wound or scar?*

   Are you a marked man or woman?

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 203–204.

*Amy Carmichael

Sinclair Ferguson encourages us to get serious about sin:

Paul’s exposition [Colossians] provides us with practical guidance for mortifying sin. . . .
   1. Learn to admit sin for what it really is. Call a spade a spade—call it “fornication” (v.5), not “I’m being tempted a little”; call it “uncleanness” (v. 5), not “I’m struggling with my thought life”; call it “covetousness, which is idolatry” (v. 5), not “I think I need to order my priorities a bit better.” . . .
   2. See sin for what it really is in God’s presence. “Because of these the wrath of God is coming” (3:6). . . . See the true nature of sin in light of its punishment. . . . Take a heaven’s-eye view of sin and feel the shame of that in which you once walked (3:7; cf. 6:21).
   3. Recognize the inconsistency of your sin. You have put off the “old man,” and have put on the “new man” (3:9–10). . . . New people live new lives. Anything less is a contradiction of who we are “in Christ.”
   4. Put sin to death (v. 5). It is a “simple” as that. You cannot “mortify” sin without the pain of the kill. There is no other way!
   But notice that Paul sets this in a very important broader context. The negative task of putting sin to death will not be accomplished in isolation from the positive call of the gospel to “put on” the Lord Jesus Christ (Rom. 13:14).
   Paul spells this out in Colossians 3:12–17. Sweeping the house clean simply leaves us open to further invasion of sin. But when we understand the “glorious exchange” principle of the gospel of grace, then we begin to make some real advances in holiness. Sinful desires and habits not only must be rejected but exchanged for Christ-like graces (3:12) and actions (3:13). As we are clothed in Christ’s character and His graces are held together by love (v. 14), not only in our private lives but also in the church fellowship (vv. 12–16), Christ’s name and glory will be manifested and exalted among us (3:17).

—Sinclair Ferguson, In Christ Alone: Living the Gospel Centered Life (Reformation Trust, 2007), 220–221.

Wayne Grudem offers an example of the editorializing found in dynamic equivalence translations of the Bible:

Generations of Christians have identified with David’s famous words of repentance in Psalm 51:

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me (Ps. 51:10–11, esv).

All essentially literal translations include the same elements of this prayer: a request for a “clean heart” (or a “pure heart”) and a right spirit from God, and a plea that God not cast the person from his presence or remove his Holy Spirit.
   But look at The Message on this passage:

God, make a fresh start in me,
shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
Don’t throw me out with the trash,
or fail to breathe holiness in me.

   On first reading The Message on this passage people might think, “How creative!” “How Catchy!” “What an interesting way to put it!” But then we realize: creating new ideas is not what translators are to do. We have no business creating things God did not say. Why should anyone think it right to invent new metaphors that God did not use (“Don’t throw me out with the trash”) and omit clear wording that he did use (“Cast me not away from your presence”)? This kind of material belongs in sermons; it does not belong in a book that says “Bible” on the cover.
   Are only some words of Scripture breathed out by God?

—Wayne Grudem, Translating Truth: The Case for Essentially Literal Bible Translation (Crossway, 2005), 44–45.

Alright, I admit it: these are kind of fun. This time, I entered the books of the Bible, the New Testament authors, and every biblical synonym, adjective, metaphor, etc. for the Word of God that I could think of, and here it is: the “Wordled” Word. As you can see, it‘s black & white.

Can you think of any biblical words or phrases I could have added?

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

The Glorious Gospel of the Blessed God
by Samuel Stennett (1727–1795)

hat wisdom, majesty, and grace,
Through all the gospel shine!
’Tis God that speaks, and we confess
The doctrine most divine.

Down from His starry throne on high,
The almighty Savior comes;
Lays His bright robes of glory by,
and feeble flesh assumes.

The mighty debt that sinners owed,
Upon the cross He pays;
Then through the clouds ascends to God,
’Mid shouts of loftiest praise.

There He, our great High Priest, appears
before His Father’s throne;
Mingles His merits with our tears,
And pours salvation down.

Great God, with reverence we adore
Thy justice and Thy grace;
And on Thy faithfulness and pow’r
Our firm dependence place.

—from Worthy Is the Lamb (Soli Deo Gloria, 2004).

salme 144
(Geneva Bible)
A Psalme of David.
1 Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth mine hands to fight, and my fingers to battell.
2 He is my goodnes and my fortresse, my towre and my deliuerer, my shield, and in him I trust, which subdueth my people vnder me.
3 Lord, what is man that thou regardest him! or the sonne of man that thou thinkest vpon him!
4 Man is like to vanitie: his dayes are like a shadow, that vanisheth.
5 Bow thine heauens, O Lord, and come downe: touch the mountaines and they shall smoke.
6 Cast forth the lightning and scatter them: shoote out thine arrowes, and consume them.
7 Send thine hand from aboue: deliuer me, and take me out of the great waters, and from the hand of strangers,
8 Whose mouth talketh vanitie, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
9 I wil sing a new song vnto thee, O God, and sing vnto thee vpon a viole, and an instrument of ten strings.
10 It is he that giueth deliuerance vnto Kings, and rescueth Dauid his seruant from the hurtfull sworde.
11 Rescue me, and deliuer me from the hand of strangers, whose mouth talketh vanitie, and their right hand is a right hand of falshood:
12 That our sonnes may be as the plantes growing vp in their youth, and our daughters as the corner stones, grauen after the similitude of a palace:
13 That our corners may be full, and abounding with diuers sorts, and that our sheepe may bring forth thousands and ten thousand in our streetes:
14 That our oxen may be strong to labour: that there be none inuasion, nor going out, nor no crying in our streetes.
15 Blessed are the people, that be so, yea, blessed are the people, whose God is the Lord.

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

Dynamic equivalence translations of the Bible, according to Leland Ryken, not only assume illiteracy in their readers, but also ensure that readers remain at a low literacy level.

   Further assumptions about modern readers fill out the picture of what I call a naive readership. Dynamic equivalence translations regularly assume that contemporary readers struggle with figurative language, so that, in the words of one translation, “at times we have chosen to translate or illuminate the metaphor” (NLT). Incidentally, translating the metaphor is exactly what equivalence translations do not do; they do not translate the metaphor but remove it from sight. Not only is figurative language said to be beyond the ability of modern readers, but so is the ability to enter the ancientness of foreignness of the biblical world. In the preface to the NIV, we read that the translators based two of their renderings on the premise that “for most readers today the phrases ‘the Lord of hosts’ and ‘God of hosts’ have little meaning.” An unstated and perhaps unrecognized assumption in all this is that readers cannot be educated beyond their current abilities—to me a naive and untenable premise. If this were not the operating premise, translation committees would not fix their translation at a lowest common denominator of reading ability and comprehension. In effect, “easy reading” translations ensure that readers will remain at a naive level of comprehension, even if the translators would disavow that this is their aim.
   This, then, is one way in which dynamic equivalence translations are naive: the translators producing them assume an audience with minimal linguistic and theological ability and then produce a translation adapted to the assumed needs of the audience. Essentially literal translations are not naive in this sense. They expect from their readers what we as a society expect of educated adults and even bright teenagers in other areas of life. The reply to the charge of elitism is simple: essentially literal translations make the Bible neither more nor less difficult than it was in the original. Faithfulness to the original is the goal of essentially literal translation; catering to the assumed wants and needs of the modern reader is the goal of dynamic equivalence translations.

—Leland Ryken, Translating Truth: The Case for Essentially Literal Bible Translation (Crossway, 2005), 64–65.

Literate readers are not the only ones insulted by dynamic equivalence Bible translations.

   In the urge to relieve allegedly inexpert readers from the need to make interpretive decisions, and to guard readers from misinterpretation, dynamic equivalence translator overlooked one important thing: in the overwhelming number of instances where these translators believed that they need to change, explain, or clarify the original, the original authors could have said it that way and chose not to. The psalmist had the linguistic resources to say (in Ps. 78:33) that God ended the days of the wicked “in futility” (NIV) or “in emptiness” (REB) or “in failure” (NEB) instead of saying that “their days vanish like a breath” (RSV, ESV, NRSV). At the heart of the dynamic equivalence experiment is the attempt to fix the assumed inadequacies of the Bible for modern readers. This maneuver is not an example of sophistication as opposed to naivete; it is instead and unwarranted affront to the original authors (an extension of the “what the author was trying to say” fallacy that has become so prevalent).

—Leland Ryken, Translating Truth: The Case for Essentially Literal Bible Translation (Crossway, 2005), 68.

And let‘s be clear: the “original author” receiving this “unwarranted affront” is none other than God himself.

If I relay a message inaccurately, does it matter how plainly I speak?

   Several ideas ordinarily cluster around the charge [that essentially literal translations are obscure or opaque]. One is the assumption that whenever an English translation is difficult or unclear, the fault can be assumed to lie with the translation and its philosophy rather than being a property of the original text. Related to this is the assumption that when a colloquial or modernized translation is judged by reading tests to be more easily grasped by the population at large, this means that translations that require a higher reading level are obscure.
   It is my belief that all modern translations are accessible to a lower reading level than traditional translations are. Not only has readability been elevated to a status all out of proportion to its legitimate place, but it has also been misrepresented. I have moved among people for whom readability is apparently the primary aim of English Bible translation, an error reinforced by advertising for what I will call “easy reading Bibles.” I will state my critique of the readability fallacy very succinctly: what good is readability if what the reader reads is not what the original text of the Bible says? If it is not what the original text says, the so-called readable translation has actually removed the Bible from a reader, not, as it is claimed, brought the Bible close to the reader. [bold type added]

—Leland Ryken, Translating Truth: The Case for Essentially Literal Bible Translation (Crossway, 2005), 73–74.

While practitioners of dynamic equivalence translation attempt to remove difficulty from Bible reading, Ryken points out that difficulty is, and always has been, a natural quality of Bible study.

   Over against the claims of a naive modern audience that is in a special position in finding the Bible difficult, I incline to the view that there is much in the Bible that is inherently difficult and technical. Surely Anthony Nichols is correct when he writes, “One cannot escape the fact that the Bible contains many concepts and expressions which are difficult for the modern reader. There is no evidence that they were much less so for the original readers. They, too, had to cope with technical terminology, with thousands of OT allusions and Hebrew loan words, idioms and translation must have been very strange to them.”
   In a similar vein, Wayne Grudem pictures the situation thus: “Lest we think that understanding the Bible was somehow easier for first-century Christians than for us, it is important to realize that in many instances the New Testament epistles were written to churches that had large proportions of Gentile Christians. They were relatively new Christians who had no previous background in any kind of Christian society, and who had little or no understanding of the history and culture of Israel. The events of Abraham’s life . . . were as far in the past for them as the events of the New Testament are for us!”

—Leland Ryken, Translating Truth: The Case for Essentially Literal Bible Translation (Crossway, 2005), 74–75.

Is it so unreasonable to expect difficulty in the study of an infinitely difficult subject? And if the difficulty is removed, has not the subject, by and large, also been removed?

Matt Gumm has condescended to enlighten us to how he writes, and has asked us to reciprocate. These are the questions he asks, and, for what they’re worth, my answers:

1. What blogging tools do you use?
   
   I type anything of any length in Word, because I’m fussy about stuff like smart quotes, and Word is the most convenient way to get that formatting. If I want to save a document to somewhere other than the blog, I use Google Docs. That way, I can access it from any computer. I don’t use Google Docs to edit html (though that would be very easy and convenient), because it adds a bunch of it’s own code that means nothing to me, and I must micromanage every jot and tittle. Anyway, the special formatting I do is easy enough to type in myself, or add in the blog editor (Movable Type).
   
   
2. How do you post?
   
   After #1 above, I select “Published” and click “Save.” Duh.
   
   
3. How do you get your ideas?
   
   Sporadically. Most of my posts are just bits of “what I’m reading.” Whenever I have an original thought(!), I write about it. Most of these are discarded as lame or useless. Sometimes, like now, I write in reaction to someone else; but I generally avoid doing so.
   
   
4. Who is your target audience?
   
   Me. That is, everything I post is the product of whatever I’ve taken in for my own benefit. I just post whatever is on my mind (see #3), and hope others will be edified thereby. Just lately I’ve begun using the blog as a discipline, à la Challies. I’ve blogged every day since June 1st. Forcing myself to put something out each day requires me to put something in first.
   
   
5. What do you hope to say or accomplish with your blog?
   
   Good question. I’m not really sure why I started blogging. I love to read, and I’m happy to take in all that I can even if I’m the only one who benefits from it; but if I can pass it along to others, that’s even better. If I have one goal, it might be that I’d like to be one small voice, tugging Christians away from all that is new, and back to the ancient truths of the Christian faith. Rather grandiose, I suppose, but I that’s my burden.

A “Wordle” of Augustine‘s Confessions. Confessions was written as a prayer. Notice the focus of the prayer, as shown by the dominant words: Thy, Thou, Thee, God.

Augustine also was obviously not a fundamentalist or evangelical, as demonstrated by the absence of a great big

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

WHO ARE THESE, AND WHENCE CAME THEY?
Horatius Bonar (1808–1889)

“Et de Hierosolymis et de Britannia aequaliter patet aula coelestis.”—Jerome. Ep. ad Paulinum.

Not from Jerusalem alone,
   To heaven the path ascends;
      As near, as sure, as straight the way
      That leads to the celestial day,
   From farthest realms extends;
Frigid or torrid zone.

What matters how or whence we start?
   One is the crown to all;
      One is the hard but glorious race,
      Whatever be our starting-place;—
   Kings round the earth the call
That says, Arise, Depart!

From the balm-breathing, sun-loved isles
   Of the bright Southern Sea,
      From the dead North‘s cloud-shadow‘d pole,
      We gather to one gladsome goal,—
   One common home in Thee,
City of sun and smiles!

The cold rough billow hinders none;
   Nor helps the calm, fair main;
      The brown rock of Norwegian gloom,
      The verdure of Tahitian bloom,
   The sands of Mizraim‘s plain,
Or peaks of Lebanon.

As from the green lands of the vine,
   So from the snow-wastes pale,
      We find the ever open road
      To the dear city of our God;
   From Russian steppe, or Burman vale,
Or terraced Palestine.

Not from swift Jordan‘s sacred stream
   Alone we mount above;
      Indus or Danube, Thames or Rhone,
      Rivers unsainted and unknown;—
   From each the home of love
Beckons with heavenly gleam.

Not from gray Olivet alone
   We see the gates of light;
      From Morven‘s heath or Jungfrau‘s snow
      We welcome the descending glow
   Of pearl and chrysolite,
And the unsetting sun.

Not from Jerusalem alone
   The Church ascends to God;
      Strangers of every tongue and clime,
      Pilgrims of every land and time,
   Throng the well-trodden road
That leads up to the throne.

—Horatius Bonar, Hymns of Faith and Hope, First Series (James Nisbet & Co., 1878).

Psalme 122
(Geneva Bible)
A song of degrees, or Psalme of David.

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

During the last week, I’ve been sharing some excerpts from Translating Truth: The Case for Essentially Literal Bible Translation. In Chapter 3, What the Reader Wants and the Translator Can Give: First John as a Test Case, C. John Collins demonstrates how dynamic equivalence translators, in their efforts to make the Bible easily readable and to translate the message, rather than the words, of Scripture, actually lose the message along with the words. The case he makes is quite good, but as it takes us to the outer limits of my ability to follow Greek, I’m not going to try to share it here. I will leave it to you to pick up the book and sort it out for yourselves.

What I would like to address, in an otherwise good chapter, is the idea that different types of translations, including dynamic equivalence translations, might be appropriate for different contexts. Collins distinguishes three different uses that might call for different translations:

(1) a Bible for church; (2) a Bible for family reading, which includes children, and personal study; (3) a Bible for the uninitiated. . . . these different contexts might be best served by different translation philosophies. What kind of translation might suit these various contexts for the English reader?*

Collins goes on to say, quite correctly, that a Bible translation for use in the church ought to be an accurate, essentially literal translation. Furthermore,

. . . I see no reason for the home version to be different from the one used in church . . . One might object, however, that the higher level of language in this version excludes children; but in my own experience I have not found this to be a viable objection. Children—mine, at least—live up to what is expected of them, and aim to expand their language capacity anyhow. I do not find them to be embarrassed to admit that they do not understand something, and the exercise of explaining a passage to young children has done me good. I admit that this puts more weight on parent’s shoulders, but then our churches ought to welcome this, and equip their families for the task.†

So far, so good; but then he continues:

The third category of translation is the one for outreach. Here we might indeed prefer a Bible version simpler than the ecclesiastical one; but if we use such a version, we should explain to people that its purpose is introductory.‡

Collins goes on to emphasize the need for disciples to be challenged intellectually to better things, quoting C. S. Lewis: “[Christ] wants a child’s heart, but a grown-up’s head” — which is quite correct. However, I seriously doubt the wisdom of using second rate translations “for the uninitiated.” My objections are:

1. It has the potential to create confusion, and undermine confidence in the Word of God. What are we saying if we give a Bible one day, only to return later with another, better Bible, explaining that “some of the stuff in the first Bible we gave you isn’t quite right, but this one can be trusted — honest”?
2. It diminishes the role of the Church in the proclamation of God’s Word. The Word of God is not meant to stand alone, outside of the Church. That is not what we mean by sola Scriptura. In addition to simply being read, it is to be explained and taught. Some of it is difficult. That is why we have pastors — preachers, teachers, shepherds — as well as congregations of mature believers: to disciple the young and immature. We are not simply to hand out Bibles and hope for the best; we are to preach it, teach it, and live it out among our neighbors. In the same vein, but far more importantly,
3. It fails to recognize the role of the Holy Spirit in illuminating God’s Word. God chose the words he wanted us — all of us, simple and wise — to read. If God doesn’t intend for us to receive the word independent of teachers, it is even more true that he does not intend for us to receive it independent of himself. “But a natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually appraised” (1 Corinthians 2:14). No matter how simple the translation, none of us can understand it adequately unless we are filled with the Spirit. The Holy Spirit will make the Word understood, if we bring it accurately.

This particular point seems to contradict everything I’ve read in this book so far. In addition to these objections, I can’t help remembering and repeating Leland Ryken’s words from the previous chapter: “what good is readability if what the reader reads is not what the original text of the Bible says?” Accuracy has got to come first, regardless of the target audience.

As a tender youth growing up in an evangelical Lutheran denomination, I watched the mainline Lutheran churches in their slide away from Biblical Christianity. This was not a new development. Indeed, my denomination’s birth was two years before my own, when the Lutheran Free Church merged with the liberal American Lutheran Church. Belief in the inerrancy of Scripture had been jettisoned. They were liberal, I was told. I’m sure I never understood the full meaning of that at the time. At first, I only saw the consequential effects: the ordination of women as pastors, to name a big one. Eventually, I came to recognize the absence of the Gospel among them. Later still, I saw that they did actually have some remnants of the gospel, but it was a gospel that no one needed. Of what use is the promise of salvation when no one is going to hell anyway? When people are sinners because of what they do (and then, only if it is sufficiently evil), who needs redemption?

This was the tail-end of the original liberal church movement, a movement that still lives but is dying a lingering death as it passionately embraces apostasy. I have just begun reading David Wells’s book The Courage to Be Protestant. He writes of a new liberal movement:

   The evangelical movement is now dividing into three rather distinct constituencies. Actually, it is dividing into many, many subconstituencies as well because this rather amazing empire of belief is fragmenting across the board. So my map with only three major constituencies portrays the land as it looks from afar, not up close. The important point here, though, is that two of these constituencies are new, and like large icebergs, they are separating from the others. They are, as I see it, transitional movements. They are the stepping stones away from the classical orthodoxy of the earlier evangelicals and, however unwittingly, toward a more liberalized Christianity. In due course the children of these evangelicals will become full-blown liberals, I suspect, just like those against whom the evangelical grandparents originally protested.

—David F. Wells, The Courage to Be Protestant: Truth Lovers, Marketers, and Emergents in the Postmodern World (Eerdmans, 2008), 2.

David Wells on the shrinking of doctrine as a cause of death in the evangelical movement:

To become a cohesive movement, evangelicalism had to agree on essentials and agree to allow differences on nonessentials, doctrinally speaking. That is what happened. The essentials were the authority of inspired Scripture and the centrality and necessity of Christ’s substitutionary work on the cross.
   Through the 1950s, 1960s, and even 1970s, much else besides the two core principles was part and parcel of evangelical belief and practice. There was, however, a tacit agreement that liberty would be allowed in all these other matters provided that the core principles were honored. As long as the center held, as long as the grounds of unity were strong, the diversity of beliefs in church government, glossalalia, baptism, and the millennium could be sustained. At the time, this seemed quite safe, because the core at the center was strong and because evangelicals took seriously all the surrounding beliefs, too.
   What happened was, though, was that this doctrinal vision began to contract. The goal that diversity in secondary matters would be welcomed quite soon passed over into an attitude that evangelicalism could in fact be reduced simply to its core principles of Scripture and Christ. In hindsight, it is now rather clear that the toleration of diversity slowly became an indifference toward much of the fabric of belief that makes up Christian faith. . . .

   The unraveling of evengelical truth was signaled initially in a series of definitional tags that became evident in the 1980s and 1990s. that was when a whole series of hybrids emerged: feminist evangelicals, liberal evangelicals, liberals who were evangelical, charismatic evangelicals, Catholic evangelicals, evangelicals who were Catholic, and so it went. The additional — be it feminist, Catolic, or charismatic — signaled that the additional interest was at least as important as the core principles that defined who an evangelical was. Indeed, the additional interest usually said far more about the person’s interests than anything else. The core principles, in fact, wer losing tere power to shape people, define the movement, prescribe who was and who was not an evangelical. . . .

   The last time I walked over the bridge that links Zambia to Zimbabwe, just below the Victoria Falls, I watched a bungee jumper launch himself into space from the center of the bridge. The waters beneath are some four hundred feet down, full of froth and crocodiles. This is Africa. Equipment of the kind he was using may not be tested regularly and replaced on schedule. In fact, what I saw were cords that appeared already to have been overused. They were very frayed, and I wondered how long it would be before an intrepid bungee jumper did not make the return journey to the bridge’s edge and simply continued into the churning waters in the gorge far, far below.
   Something like this happened in the evangelical world. The cords plaited together out of the formal and material principles became frayed and then, for an increasing number, snapped. They are no longer able to return the jumpers to the fellowship.

—David F. Wells, The Courage to Be Protestant: Truth Lovers, Marketers, and Emergents in the Postmodern World (Eerdmans, 2008), 7–9.

David Wells on the consumerism of the church marketers:

If we are going to market the church and its gospel, where are we going to start? We start, of course, with our customer. What does the customer want? . . .

   One of the ways of making the experience of going to church more pleasant is to offer choice. . . . Having a wide array of choices is, after all, the way the world is going.
   It once was that a person who wanted to listen to music went to a public performance and there listened to the whole selection being played by the orchestra or band. Then came records, which made it possible, though not convenient, to select one of the songs and not listen to the others. However, it required some effort and dexterity. Then came CDs in which the selection of the songs was much easier. Finally, in came iPods, where the unwanted songs do not even appear and do not have to be selected “out.” Why can’t we have something like this in the church? That is what I, the consumer, really want. I want to be able to select what I hear and choose what I do in church. Why should worship not be customized, consumers and pastors alike without asking?
   This, in fact, is exactly what a number of churches are now facilitating. They are aiming to please. Instead of offering the set two-, three-, four-, or five-course meal for everyone, they are letting people choose which aspects of worship they want. Customers can choose between different themes in worship, or different activities, or different styles in different parts of the building. It is much more like a buffet than a set meal. That way people can choose which aspect of worship suits them best on that particular day. If all they want to do is pray, then let them pray in a room in the building. If they want to watch a video, let them watch a video.

—David F. Wells, The Courage to Be Protestant: Truth Lovers, Marketers, and Emergents in the Postmodern World (Eerdmans, 2008), 28–30.

This kind of “church” has no appeal to me. I don’t want to be entertained. I don’t want to hear jokes (I can think frivolously enough on my own, thank you). I don’t want noise, and I don’t want a show. I want music that is reverent in tone and rich in theology. More — far more — I want God’s Word preached. I want all of it — not just the happy parts; not just the exciting parts; not just the encouraging parts; not just the promises. I want the sad parts; the terrifying parts; the convicting parts; the heart-breaking parts. I want the whole counsel of God brought to bear on my heart and life.

Why is that? Is it because I’m so intelligent, wise, righteous, or mature? Is it because I’m in some way better than those who flock to these houses of merchandise? Not likely. It can only be because of who I am as a new creature in Christ. These are the things that one who is in Christ and filled with the Holy Spirit desires, and loves. Because I have been born from above, I have an appetite for heavenly things, and anything less leaves me hungry.

I can’t help concluding that the vast majority of those who fill the seeker-sensitive consumer-oriented “churches” are simply unregenerate. How else could they stand it?

These are just a few reviews of the book I am currently reading, The Courage to Be Protestant: Truth Lovers, Marketers, and Emergents in the Postmodern World by David Wells.

• Albert Mohler: On the Other Hand, Protestant Courage
• Tim Challies: The Courage to Be Protestant
• Nathan Pitchford: Book Review: The Courage to Be Protestant
• Roger Overton: Interview with David Wells on The Courage to Be Protestant Part I, Part II

I’ve been posting some excerpts this week, and I’ve been amazed at the difficulty of choosing highlights. It seems as if each paragraph is fairly bursting with potent insights into today’s church and culture. It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book that is so immediately — if you’ll forgive the cliché — relevant.

I have no statistics to prove it, but I’m willing to bet that Calvinism is the fastest growing theology today. Calvinism is spreading like an epidemic. Calvinistic churches are popping up everywhere. Calvinists are writing best-selling books and building mega-churches. People who wouldn’t normally attend church at all are flocking to Calvinist churches.

It’s no wonder, really. Who doesn’t love Calvin?

I reioyced, when they sayd to me, We wil go into the house of the Lord. (Psalme 122:1 Geneva Bible)

Assurance

Almighty God,

I am loved with everlasting love,
clothed in eternal righteousness,
         my peace flowing like a river,
         my comforts many and large,
         my joy and triumph unutterable,
         my soul lively with a knowledge of salvation,
         my sense of justification unclouded.
I have scarce anything to pray for;
Jesus smiles upon my soul as a ray of heaven
   and my supplications are swallowed up in praise.
How sweet is the glorious doctrine of election
   when based upon thy Word
   and wrought inwardly within the soul!
I bless thee that thou wilt keep the sinner
      thou hast loved,
   and hast engaged that he will not forsake thee,
   else I would never get to heaven.
I wrong the grace in my heart
   if I deny my new nature and my eternal life.
If Jesus were not my righteousness and redemption,
   I would sink into nethermost hell
   by my misdoings, shortcomings, unbelief, unlove;
If Jesus were not by the the power of his spirit
   my sanctification,
   there is no sin I should not commit.
O when shall I have his mind!
   when shall I be conformed to his image?
All the good things of life are less than nothing
   when compared with his love,
   and with one glimpse of thy electing favor.
All the treasures of a million worlds could not
   make me richer, happier, more contented,
   for his unsearchable riches are mine.
One moment of communion with him, one view
   of his grace,
   is ineffable, inestimable.
But O God, I could not long after thy presence
   if I did not know the sweetness of it;
   and such I could not know except by the Spirit
   in my heart, nor love thee at all unless thou didst
   elect me,
   call me,
   adopt me,
   save me.
I bless thee for the covenant of grace.

—from The Valley of Vision, Arthur Bennett, editor (Banner of Truth Trust, 2002).

Psalme 129
(Geneva Bible)
A song of degrees.
1 They haue often times afflicted me from my youth (may Israel nowe say)
2 They haue often times afflicted me from my youth: but they could not preuaile against me.
3 The plowers plowed vpon my backe, and made long furrowes.
4 But the righteous Lord hath cut the cordes of the wicked.
5 They that hate Zion, shalbe all ashamed and turned backward.
6 They shalbe as the grasse on the house tops, which withereth afore it commeth forth.
7 Whereof the mower filleth not his hand, neither the glainer his lap:
8 Neither they, which go by, say, The blessing of the Lord be vpon you, or, We blesse you in the Name of the Lord.

Grace be with you, and Peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.