Charnock wrote, of God’s knowledge, that it should cause us to agree with God in all things. That he knows all things, and is surprised by nothing, but works all things according to his will, should cause us to rest in him in all circumstances.

The consideration of this excellent perfection should make us to acquiesce in God, and rely upon Him in every strait. In public, in private; He knows all cases, and He knows all remedies; He knows the seasons of bringing them, and He knows the seasons of removing them, for His own glory. What is contingent in respect of us, and of our foreknowledge, and in respect of second causes, is not so in regard of God’s, who hath the knowledge of the futurition of all things; he knows all causes in themselves, and, therefore, knows what every cause will produce, what will be the event of every counsel and of every action. How should we commit ourselves to this God of infinite understanding, who knows all things, and foreknows everything; that cannot be forced through ignorance to take new counsel, or be surprised with anything that happens to us! This use the Psalmist makes of it (Ps. x. 14): “thou hast seen it, the poor committeth himself unto thee.” though “some trust in chariots and horses” (Ps. xx. 7), some in counsels and counselors, some in their arms and courage, and some in mere vanity and nothing; yet, let us remember the name and nature of the Lord our God, his divine perfections, of which this of his infinite understanding and omniscience is none of the least, but so necessary, that without it he could not be God, and the whole world would be a mere chaos and confusion.

—Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God (Baker Books, 2005), 1:497.

William Whitaker closed his work, A Disputation on Holy Scripture Against the Papists especially Bellarmine and Stapleton, with a summary “To the Christian Reader”:

   If ever any heretics have impiously outraged the holy scripture of God, we may justly rank the papists of our time with this class of men, who pervert things the most sacred. For, not to mention how insultingly most of them speak, and how meanly they think, of the scriptures, and to pass by at present the insane slanders of certain of them, (because I would not hurt your pious ears with the foul speeches these men have uttered,) there are especially six opinions concerning scripture which they now hold and obstinately defend, that are eminently absurd, heretical, and sacrilegious.
   The first concerns the number of canonical and truly inspired books of scripture; since, not content with those which in the old Testament were published by the prophets, in the new by the apostles and evangelists—the chosen organs of the Spirit, they add to this fair and perfect body of canonical scripture, not only the Wisdom of Solomon, Ecclesiasticus, Judith, Tobit, but even the history of the Maccabees, the apocryphal stories of Susanna and Bel and the Dragon, and fragments of Esther, than which nothing more spurious can be imagined.
   The second is, their placing the authentic scripture in the old Latin translation, which they call the Vulgate, and not in the sacred Hebrew and Greek originals: which is not merely, as Glaucus with Diomede [Iliad, vi. 234—236.], to exchange gold for brass, but to prefer the work of man to that of God. Who can doubt that Glaucus was a wise man compared with these? Brasen arms are as fit for all warlike purposes as golden; but who would not choose to learn true religion from the words of the Holy Ghost rather than from those of a translator—especially such a translator, and draw the water which he drinks from a spring, and not a cistern? Besides, in forbidding the people to read the scriptures, and performing their service in a strange language, they plainly take away all mutual converse of God with the people, and the people with God, and interrupt the intercourse and communion of the Deity with man.
   The third is, their determining that the authority of scripture depends upon the voice and testimony of the church, and their teaching that the scripture is no scripture to us except on account of the sentence of the church; which is just the same as Tertullian formerly so wittily charged upon the heathen, Apol. c. 5: “With you divinity depends on human choice. God is no God, unless it so pleases man. Man must now be kind to God.” It is absolutely thus that the papists maintain, that the scriptures would be no scriptures to us, if the church did not give them their authority, and approve them by her judgment.
   The fourth is, their complaining of the incredible obscurity of the scriptures, not for the purpose of rousing men to diligence in studying and perusing them, but to bring the scriptures into hatred and subject them to wicked suspicions: as if God had published his scriptures as Aristotle did his books of Physics, for no one to understand. “Know that they are published, and yet not published; for they are only intelligible to those who have heard myself.”
   The fifth is their refusal to have controversies decided by scripture, or to allow scripture to be its own interpreter, making the pope of Rome the solo judge of controversies and of scripture: as if scripture were of no force without the pope, could hold no sense but what it received from the pope, nor even speak but what the pope saw good; or as if God did not speak to us, but only by the pope as his interpreter.
   The sixth is, their asserting the doctrine of scripture, which is most full and absolutely perfect, to be incomplete; and therefore not only joining innumerable unwritten traditions, whereof their was no mention in the bible, with scripture, but even setting them on a level with scripture in dignity, utility, authority, credit, and necessity: wherein they fall under the weight of just so many anathemas from Christ as the traditions are which they add to scripture. Who can adequately conceive the greatness of this insult, that these rotten popish traditions, whereof there is not one syllable in scripture, should be counted equal to the scriptures?
   These monstrous errors of the papists, courteous reader, we refute in this book, not only by arguments and testimonies drawn from scripture, but also by those other proofs in which our adversaries principally confide; nor do we produce merely the ancient fathers of the church as witnesses on our side, but also the schoolmen and classic authors of the papists, who though, as the apostle says, they “held the truth in unrighteousness,” yet left it not without witness.

—William Whitaker, Disputations on the Holy Scriptures (Soli Deo Gloria, 2005), 705–707.

You’ll notice that Whitaker wastes no time with soft, conciliatory words, but calls the “papist” doctrines what they are: insulting to scripture, “absurd, heretical, and sacrilegious,” “monstrous errors,” “under . . . anathemas from Christ.” There is no hint of Evangelicals and Catholics Together, only proof that such fellowship is not possible (2 Corinthians 6:14). This leads us to ask, what has happened to the church today? Where is the resolve to “hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering” (Hebrews 10:23), to “guard what has been entrusted to you” (1 Timothy 6:20)? God help us to know the truth, and to stand firm in it — for the sake of the gospel and the souls of men, for the glory of God.

We all know, don’t we, that the puritans hated sex and considered it to be exceedingly sinful. After all, that is what “puritanical” means, isn’t it? Well . . . maybe not. According to Leland Ryken, that attitude belongs to the Roman Catholics, particularly during the middle ages. Rome taught that sex, although less sinful for some than the alternatives, was always sinful, not in the act itself, but in the driving passions and resulting pleasure. This view was held by no less than our beloved Augustine, who commended married couples who abstained from sex!

The Puritans rejected that attitude wholeheartedly, and made no secret of their opposing view. Ryken writes that “When a New England wife complained, first to her pastor, and then to the whole congregation, that her husband was neglecting their sex life, the church proceeded to excommunicate the man.” [Worldly Saints, 39.]

Catholic doctrine had declared virginity superior to marriage; the Puritan reply was that marriage “is a state . . . Far more excellent than the condition of single life.” Many Catholic commentators claimed that sexual intercourse had been the resultof the Fall and did not occur in Paradise; the Puritan comeback was that marriage was ordained by God, “and that not in this sinful world, but in paradise, that most joyful garden of pleasure.”
   . . .
   Given the Catholic background against which they wrote and preached, the Puritans’ praise of marriage was at the same time an implicit endorsement of marital sex as good. They elaborated that point specifically and often. This becomes clearer once we are clued into the now-outdated terms by which they customarily referred to sexual intercourse: “matrimonial duty,” “cohabitation,” “act of matrimony,” and (especially) “due benevolence.”
   Everywhere we turn in Puritan writing on the subject we find sex affirmed as good in principle. [William] Gouge referred to physical union as “one of the most proper and essential acts of marriage.” It was Milton’s opinion that the text “they shall be one flesh” (Gen. 2:24) was included in the Bible

to justify and make legitimate the rites of the marriage bed; which was not unneedful, if for all this warrant they were suspected of pollution by some sects of philosophy and religions of old, and latelier among the Papists.

William Ames listed as one of the duties of marriage “mutual communication of bodies.”
   So closely linked were the ideas of marriage and sex that the Puritans usually defined marriage partly in terms of sexual union. [William] Perkins defined marriage as “the lawful conjunction of the two married persons; that is, of one man and one woman into one flesh.” Another well-known definition was this: Marriage

is a coupling together of two persons into one flesh, according to the ordinance of God. . . . By yoking, joining, or coupling is meant, not only outward dwelling together of the married folks . . . but also an uniform agreement of mind and a common participation of body and goods.

   Married sex was not only legitimate in the Puritan view; it was meant to be exuberant. Gouge said that married couples should engage in sex “with good will and delight, willingly, readily, and cheerfully.” An anonymous Puritan claimed that when two are made one by marriage they

may joyfully give due benevolence one to the other; as two musical instruments rightly fitted do make a most pleasant and sweet harmony in a well tuned consort.

Alexander Niccholes theorized that in marriage “thou not only unitest unto thyself a friend and comfort for society, but also a companion for pleasure.”
   In this acceptance of physical sex, the Puritans once again rejected the asceticism and implicit dualism between sacred and secular that had governed Christian thinking for so long. In the Puritan view, God had given the physical world, including sex, for human welfare.

—Leland Ryken, Worldly Saints: The Puritans as They Really Were (Academie Books, 1986), 42, 43–44.

Considering yesterday’s topic, I suppose that might not be the best title. It’s just that I feel somewhat compromised today.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I don’t think much of Twitter. I love brevity, but let’s not get stupid about it. Nevertheless, I have created a Twitter page. It’s only an experiment in blog promotion; we’ll see what it’s worth.

On my Twitter page you will not find:

• What I am eating.
• What I am drinking.
• What I am wearing.
• Where I am.
• Where I am going.
• Where I have been.
• What I am doing.
• What I just did.
• What I am about to do.
• How I am feeling.
• What I am thinking.
• [Fill in your own narcissistic category]
• Truncated words and sentences. Every sentence will have a correctly-spelled subject and verb, correctly punctuated and capitalized, guaranteed, or your money back (blog post titles not included).

The only item on the list above with any value (and that tenuous) is “what I’m thinking”; but any thought I can complete in 140 characters is not worth reading — not alone, anyway. That goes for you, too, by the way, even if your name is Mohler or Piper (I did get a kick out of fakejohnpiper, though).

I surfed around twitter a bit, looking for something redeeming. I expected hoped for some dignified Presbyterian profundity at Ligon Duncan’s page (I enjoyed him immensely at Together for the Gospel 2008, and expect to again in 2010). Nope. From there I clicked Phil Johnson’s rather juvenile-looking avatar. Now, I’m not a Phil Johnson fan-boy, but I can say I liked him even before he was blogging. I had listened to his sermons, visited his Spurgeon Archive, Hall of Church History, and Bookmarks, and of course, benefited from his work at Grace to You. So I clicked into his Twitter page with expectations a bit high, perhaps. Well . . . I never would have anticipated using this word in relation to Phil, but here it is:  b o r i n g.  Phil shouldn’t take it personally, though. Everyone is boring on Twitter, even my friends Tim and Daniel. (Tim and Daniel were my first two followers, until they read this post. They only followed me because I followed them first, anyway.*) It’s not like I’m any better; if I did like everyone else, I could out-boring Al Gore tweeting his backyard thermometer fluctuations on the hour, every hour.

I won’t be doing that. My page will look like John Macarthur’s (and who could be better to emulate?) most of the time. The rub is that I’m already subscribed to the Grace to You feed, so I have no need to follow him on Twitter. The same will be true here, if you already subscribe to this blog’s feed. So this will serve as just another feed to this blog, for the Twitter crowd. “The Thirsty Theologian: Going into the Highways and Byways . . .” I may occasionally rarely throw in a personal news item, but I will try to keep those in line with “soup questions.”†

So off I go, on a most likely useless experiment. Follow me here. Or don’t.

* If you choose to follow me, don’t get your feelings hurt if I don’t reciprocate. I don’t intend to actually follow anyone, including these guys. I do follow their blogs — you know, where they can actually say something. Maybe I’ll follow yours, too. Update: Now, this one, I will follow, at least until it gets boring.

† see Finding Forrester.

. . . this will never be me:

(see previous post)

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”

The Sinner’s Address to Christ
John Mason (1645–1694)

Where lies a sin, I’ll drop a tear,
Then view redeeming blood;
To mourning souls Christ will appear,
And surely do them good.
’Tis thou alone, my Lord, canst give
This aching heart relief;
Christ’s gentle voice would make it live,
His hand wipe off my grief.

Those falsely called the sweets of sin
Are bitter unto me;
I loath the state that I am in,
Lord, may I come to thee?
But, oh, wilt Thou receive him now
That’s coming to Thy door?
For I can bring no dowry, Lord;
I come extremely poor.

What if my tears could make a flood,
My righteousness is dross;
Those tears need washing in Thy blood,
Though wept upon Thy cross.
I have an argument to plead,
Which Thou canst not deny—
Thy grace is free, and Thou doest give
To sinners such as I.

Thou doest invite all wandering souls,
And I am one of those;
With Thee the sick do find a cure,
The weary find repose.
The world and sin will never vex,
Will trouble and molest;
I therefore trust my soul with Christ,
To bring to heaven’s rest.

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

The Gospel According to John
Christ Witnesses to the Woman at the Well

4Therefore when the Lord knew that the Pharisees had heard that Jesus was making and baptizing more disciples than John 2 (although Jesus Himself was not baptizing, but His disciples were), 3 He left Judea and went away again into Galilee. 4 And He had to pass through Samaria. 5 So He came to a city of Samaria called Sychar, near the parcel of ground that Jacob gave to his son Joseph; 6 and Jacob’s well was there. So Jesus, being wearied from His journey, was sitting thus by the well. It was about the sixth hour.

There are two sayings in these verses which deserve particular notice. They throw light on two subjects in religion, on which clear and well defined opinions are of great importance.
   We should observe, for one thing, what is said about baptism. We read that “Jesus himself baptized not, but his disciples.”
   The expression here used is a very remarkable one. In reading it we seem irresistibly led to one instructive conclusion. That conclusion is, that baptism is not the principal part of Christianity, and that to baptize is not the principal work for which Christian ministers are ordained. Frequently we read of our Lord preaching and praying. Once we read of His administering the Lord’s supper. But we have not a single instance recorded of His ever baptizing any one. And here we are distinctly told, that it was a subordinate work, which He left to others. Jesus “himself baptized not, but his disciples.”
   The lesson is one of peculiar importance in the present day. Baptism, as a sacrament ordained by Christ Himself, is an honorable ordinance, and ought never to be lightly esteemed in the churches. It cannot be neglected or despised without great sin. When rightly used, with faith and prayer, it is calculated to convey the highest blessings. But baptism was never meant to be exalted to the position which many now-a-days assign to it in religion. It does not act as a charm. It does not necessarily convey the grace of the Holy Spirit. The benefit of it depends greatly on the manner in which it is used. The doctrine taught, and the language employed about it, in some quarters, are utterly inconsistent with the fact announced in the text. If baptism was all that some say it is, we would never have been told, that “Jesus himself baptized not.”
   Let it be a settled principle in our minds that the first and chief business of the Church of Christ is to preach the Gospel. The words of Paul ought to be constantly remembered,—“Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach the Gospel.” (1 Cor. i. 17.) When the Gospel of Christ is faithfully and fully preached we need not fear that the sacraments will be undervalued. Baptism and the Lord’s supper will always be most truly reverenced in those churches where the truth as it is in Jesus is most fully taught and known.
   We should observe, for another thing, in this passage, what is said about our Lord’s human nature. We read that Jesus was “wearied with his journey.”
   We learn from this, as well as many other expressions in the Gospels, that our Lord had a body exactly like our own. When “the Word became flesh,” He took on Him a nature like our own in all things, sin only excepted. Like ourselves, He grew from infancy to youth, and from youth to man’s estate. Like ourselves, He hungered, thirsted, felt pain, and needed sleep. He was liable to every sinless infirmity to which we are liable. In all things His body was framed like our own.
   The truth before us is full of comfort for all who are true Christians. He to whom sinners are bid to come for pardon and peace, is one who is man as well as God. He had a real human nature when He was upon earth. He took a real human nature with Him, when He ascended up into heaven. We have at the right hand of God a High Priest who can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, because He has suffered Himself being tempted. When we cry to Him in the hour of bodily pain and weakness, He knows well what we mean. When our prayers and praises are feeble through bodily weariness, He can understand our condition. He knows our frame. He has learned by experience what it is to be a man. To say that the Virgin Mary, or any one else, can feel more sympathy for us than Christ, is ignorance no less than blasphemy. The man Christ Jesus can enter fully into everything that belongs to man’s condition. The poor, the sick, and the suffering, have in heaven One who is not only an almighty Savior, but a most sympathetic Friend. The servant of Christ should grasp firmly this great truth, that there are two perfect and complete natures in the one Person whom he serves. The Lord Jesus, in whom the Gospel bids us believe, is, without doubt, almighty God,—equal to the Father in all things, and able to save to the uttermost all those that come unto God by Him. But that same Jesus is no less certainly perfect man,—able to sympathize with man in all his bodily sufferings, and acquainted by experience with all that man’s body has to endure. Power and sympathy are marvellously combined in Him who died for us on the cross. Because He is God, we may repose the weight of our souls upon Him with unhesitating confidence. He is mighty to save.—Because He is man, we may speak to Him with freedom, about the many trials to which flesh is heir. He knows the heart of a man.—Here is rest for the weary! Here is good news! Our Redeemer is man as well as God, and God as well as man. He that believes on Him, has everything that a child of Adam can possibly require, either for safety or for peace.

—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007), 3:190–193

A	udio Sermons Albert Mohler Alistair Begg Bret Capranica David Legge David Strain John MacArthur John Piper Mark Loughridge Mark Dever Michael Beasley Paul Lamey Paul W Martin Phil Johnson Phillip M Way RC Sproul Steve Weaver Thabiti Abyabwile

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

I grew up with a medium-sized list of things Christians shouldn’t do. Don’t get me wrong, there are many things Christians shouldn’t do, but this list was not exactly the Decalogue. On this list, probably somewhere in the middle below drinking alcohol and above playing cards, was going to the movie theatre. It wasn’t considered a sin per se, but it was definitely a sign of worldliness. I’ve never been able to negotiate the difference between sinful and merely worldly, but trust me, it exists. They said so, or at least, implied so.

So it was through a bit of serendipity that I first stepped into a theatre at ten years of age. Some cousins from Big City, Minnesota came to visit during the summer of 1975. They were liberals (no kidding, they really were) who had no scruples about the theatre; so, stuck in Small Town, South Dakota (population 650, give or take) and bored to death, they were going to the show that weekend, whatever it was. As luck would have it, it was The Apple Dumpling Gang (still one of my favorites). It was rated G, and I think my parents weren’t quite sour enough to frown and tut-tut at the cousins. Consequently, they were in a bind when, in front of aunt, uncle, and cousins, my siblings and I declared that, yes, that would be fun! Long story short, we went; which, I believe, broke down the barrier between yours truly and an event that would have a dramatic effect on my wee little psyche in the summers to come.

What, The Apple Dumpling Gang messed me up? No, this story is not about cute orphans and bumbling “desperados.” It’s about [cue ominous music] sharks. You see, 1975 was also the year Jaws was released. I’ve told this story many times, and every time I’ve said I was twelve years old. Who lets their twelve-year-old see a movie with graphic people-eating? But my fact-checking revealed the shocking fact that I was actually only ten. How I managed to finagle Jaws from my theatres-are-evil parents is still a mystery. Anyway, in those days and in that town, no ten-year-old was getting into a PG movie unaccompanied, so it fell to my sister, then seventeen, to take me. She was a better date than you might expect, jumping and gasping in all the right places, giving me mucho teasing ammo for days, if not weeks and months, to come. Her gasps grew to shrieks in my gleeful accounts of the evening. But I haven’t gotten to the good part yet.

It was either that same summer or one of the following two that our family met some other cousins, these from Even Smaller Town, South Dakota, at the Oahe Reservoir near Pierre, the state capital, where we camped, swam, and fished for a week. On at least one of those days, the wind blew something fierce, as it is wont to do in the plains states. Oahe is a big lake, so a big wind produces big waves — too big for fishing, skiing, or any small boating activity. But we were there to have fun, so rather than sit around outside our tents watching our potato chips and paper plates blow away, we did the only thing we could do. We went swimming. Well, not swimming, exactly. My uncle, father, cousin, and I put on life jackets and swam out from shore as far as we could. Then we just laid in the water and let the waves take us in. Up and down we rode for hours, on waves six to eight feet high, reaching the shore and swimming back out again.

There I was, laying on my back in the water, watching the waves tower over me, then riding to the top and surveying the lake around me and the approaching beach ahead. I could have just laid back and fallen asleep, it was so relaxing. Relaxing . . . relaxing . . . when suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the image of a huge shark thrust itself upon me. I nearly shot out of the water and hydroplaned to shore. Slowly, I got a grip on myself. “It’s a lake. There are no sharks. It’s a lake . . . it’s a lake . . . it’s just a lake.” My heart-rate slowed, my breathing steadied, and I was mostly alright. I laid back, shaken, nervous, and wishing for the shore, but pretty sure I wouldn’t be eaten that day.

Now, you need to know that Jaws had awakened an interest in me. From the day I saw that movie, I was hooked on sharks. I read everything I could find on them. I even got the novel and read it (and was disappointed with the discrepancies between book and movie). I knew that sharks have a cartilaginous skeleton, that they have to swim constantly to avoid drowning, have multiple rows of teeth that rotate forward to replace lost teeth, and that, rather than scales, they have a network of dermal denticles that sheath their bodies in a virtual external skeleton. Shark skin has the texture of sandpaper, and has in fact been used as such. Mark that fact, Dear Reader.

But I was not thinking of those things on that warm, windy day as I rode the waves to shore. I was trying to put all things fishy out of my mind, and had mostly succeeded. Riding to the top of a wave, I was relieved to see the beach within yards. Sinking to the bottom of the swell, laying face down now with my feet trailing behind, the top of my foot brushed the sandy bottom. I’ve never been a good swimmer, but I’m sure I broke somebody’s record that day. Spitz and Phelps had nothing on me. I hit the shore running, and collapsed just a few yards onto the beach.

That was the end of my “swimming” for the day.

My interest in sharks waned as years passed, but still, whenever I see something like this I think, “cool.” I didn’t enter the theatre again until 1979, for Hal Lindsey’s church-approved The Late Great Planet Earth. I don’t remember a thing about that one.

We know that the wisdom of God is foolishness to the world; but we, i.e., believers, must admit that much of scripture is foolishness to us, too. God requires us to be diligent students of his Word, and to rely on this Holy Spirit to quicken our understanding. Charnock wrote:

The whole scheme of godliness is a mystery. No man or angel could imagine how two natures so distant as the Divine and human should be united; how the same person should be criminal and righteous; how a just God should have a satisfaction, and sinful man a justification; how the sin should be punished, and the sinner saved. None could imagine such a way of justification as the apostle in this epistle declares: it was a mystery when hid under the shadows of the law, and a mystery to the prophets when it sounded from their mouths; they searched it, without being able to comprehend it (1 Peter i. 10, 11). If it be a mystery, it is humbly to be submitted to: mysteries surmount human reason. The study of the gospel must not be with a yawning and careless frame. Trades, you call mysteries, are not learned sleeping and nodding: diligence is required; we must be disciples at God’s feet. As it had God for the author, so we must have God for the teacher of it; the contrivance was his, and the illumination of our minds must be from him. As God only manifested the gospel, so he only can open our eyes to see the mysteries of Christ in it.

—Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God (Baker Books, 2005), 1:502–503.

I realized late last night that, having completed Disputations on the Holy Scriptures last week, I had no post ready for today.

Wednesday has been bibliology day here since July last year. Since then I’ve read Translating Truth by Leland Ryken (ed.), The Canon of Scripture by F. F. Bruce, How to Read the Bible as Literature by Leland Ryken, Scripture Alone by R. C. Sproul, and now Disputations on the Holy Scriptures by William Whitaker. I’ll admit it: Disputations was a heavy volume, not just in its 718-page bulk, but in its content. Perhaps it was an ill-conceived idea to read it alongside Charnock’s The Existence and Attributes of God. I’m tired. I won’t be picking up anything too heavy for a while (did I mention I’m also presently reading The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, 1245 pages, small print?).

Eventually, I’m sure, I’ll want to pick up another book on The Book. Any suggestions?

The Puritans, as we have seen, were industrious, hard-working people. This has led some to paint them as avaricious, materialistic capitalists. It is true that they were capitalistic, and it is them we have to thank (and thank them, I do) for American free enterprise. But it is not at all fair to call them greedy and materialistic. Their view of wealth was much the same as their view of work: that it was ordained by God, and therefore good in itself.

   In affirming the goodness of money, the Puritans found it necessary to defend the legitimate aspects of money against its detractors. William Perkins did so in a sermon an Matthew 6:19-20, in which he listed what Christ did not forbid:

Diligent labor in a main vocation, whereby [a person] provides things needful for himself, and those that depend on him. . . . The fruition and possessions of goods and riches: for they are the good blessing of God being well used. . . . The gathering and laying up of treasure is not simply forbidden, for the word of God alloweth herefor in some respect. 2 Corinthians 12:14.

   The puritans had no guilt about making money; to make money was a form of stewardship. . . . [Richard Baxter wrote]:

If God show you a way in which you may lawfully get more than in another way (without wrong to your soul, or to any other), if you refuse this, and choose a less gainful way, you cross one of the ends of your calling, and you refuse to be God’s steward.

In the broader context of Baxter’s writing on economics, this call for efficiency and productiveness is simply evidence of common sense and a strong sense of wishing to be a good steward of God’s gifts. —Leland Ryken, Worldly Saints: The Puritans as They Really Were (Academie Books, 1986), 58.

Likewise, the Puritans defended the concept of private property:

   The Puritans’ defense of private property was an extension of their belief in the legitimacy of money. William Ames wrote that private property is founded “not only on human but also on natural and divine right.” Elsewhere Ames wrote that there is justice “in the lawful keeping of the things we have.” when John Hull, one of the first merchant princes of Massachusetts, lost his ships to the Dutch, he took consolation in God’s providence: “The loss of my estate will be nothing, if the Lord please join my soul nearer to himself, and loose it more from creature comforts.” but when his foreman stole his horses, Hull took the view that “I would have you know that they are, by God’s good providence, mine.” —Ibid., 59.

While the puritans believed that hard work was godly, and that the success gained thereby was good, it did not follow that success was an automatic sign of godliness, or that poverty was a sign of wickedness.

   If godliness is not a guarantee of success, then the converse is also true: success is not a sign of godliness. This is how the Puritans understood the matter. John Cotton stated that a Christian “equally bears good and evil successes as God shall dispense them to him.” Samuel Willard wrote, “as riches are not evidences of God’s love, so neither is poverty of his anger or hatred.” Samuel Hieron said that just as many of God’s “beloved servants do feel the smart of poverty, so even the most wicked . . . have a large Portion in this life.” —Ibid., 60.

The Puritans believed that wealth was often a temptation and the cause of spiritual downfall. Yet they did not make a virtue of poverty.

   The puritans did not idealize poverty as something to be sought. Contrary to Catholic monastic theory, the Puritans theorized that poverty is no sure way to avoid temptation. Richard Baxter commented:

Poverty also hath its temptations. . . . For even the poor may be undone by the love of that wealth and plenty which they never get: and they may perish for over-loving the world, that never yet prospered in the world.

—Ibid., 61.

Further, the puritans believed that poverty existed to display God’s glory, both through the impoverished, and through the wealthy.

   The Puritans also rejected the ethic of unconcern that is content to let the poor remain poor. In their view, poverty is not an unmitigated misfortune, but it is certainly not the goal that we should have for people. “The rich man by liberality must dispose and comfort the poor,” said Thomas Lever in a sermon. “God never gave a gift,” preached Hugh Latimer, “but he sent occasion at one time or another to show it to God’s glory. As if he sent riches, he sendeth poor men to be helped with it.” Latimer even went so far as to say that “the poor man hath title to the rich man’s goods; so that the rich man ought to let the poor man have part of his riches to help and comfort him withal.”
   On the subject of poverty, then, the Puritans taught that it is sometimes the lot of godly and that it can be a spiritual blessing. It is not, however, meritorious in itself, and poor people require the generosity of people who have resources to help them. —Ibid.

I gave my daughter Voddie Baucham’s book What He Must Be if he wants to marry my daughter. I asked her the other day how it was and what she was learning. If you don’t know who Voddie Baucham is, I need to tell you, for the purposes of this story, that he is black. You also need to know that I and my family are as white as Scandinavian-Americans with roots in Minnesota and Wisconsin should be; that is, very white.

One section of Baucham’s book deals with inter-“racial” marriage. His view is that it is both wrong and foolish to narrow your matrimonial options based on ethnicity (I concur). As he discussed this issue, he personalized it in the context of his own pigmentally advantaged family. If a godly young man of differing shade wanted to court his daughter, and she was amenable, that would be fine with him.

So, when I asked my daughter what she was learning, she replied,

“I’ve learned that I don’t have to marry a black guy.”

I’ve been sitting on some of these (yes, it’s uncomfortable) for a couple of weeks, so they might be a bit stale.

This might not be very nice of me, but few (trivial) things would give this non-sportsfan more pleasure than to see the Packers vs. the Vikings in the playoffs, and then to watch Brett Favre lead the Vikings to their first Superbowl victory. On second thought, the state that sent Al Franken to the Senate deserves no such victory.

Speaking of Franken, I know I’ve said some negative things about him. However, he does have one skill that impresses me. Really, it does.

And speaking of politicians, take heart — according to Tim Hawkins, The Government Can!

You’ve likely seen this by now, but it’s a good analysis of the American medical industry: How American Health Care Killed My Father. It’s disappointing to see that the author still tips his hat to socialism near the end (“For lower-income Americans who can’t fund all of their catastrophic premiums or minimum HSA contributions, the government should fill the gap—in some cases, providing all the funding.”), but it’s an otherwise good look at the problem and its solution.

Are you a parent, or just another pathetic, spineless weenie?

In the news: Star NFL player goes to prison for dog fighting. Meanwhile, a basketball coach murders his child in cold blood. We are assured that he will take no leave of absence, and will coach next season. Whew, that’s a relief.

Walter Cronkite is still popping up in the headlines here and there, but I wonder how many have read about The Man Who Wasn’t Cronkite.

Gene Veith: The new new-NIV may be even more gender-inclusive. Well, that’s good to know. Now I can still not buy one.

Albert Mohler has a message American “evangelicals” desperately need: Why Moralism Is Not the Gospel — And Why So Many Christians Think It Is.

Before you complain about the outdated language in hymns, make sure you know what you’re talking about.

In the “Not Hymns” category, the “worst worship ever.” I hope “worship” isn’t another word we’ll have to throw out as meaningless, along with “fundamentalist” and “evangelical.” As one YouTube commenter wrote, “i [sic] feel bad for jesus [sic]. all [sic] his friends are idiots.”

And then there’s this: Fratello Metallo.

On Twitter: Doug Groothius (The Constructive Curmudgeon) is a man after my own heart.

Just for fun: make your own Silly Putty or get your own custom bobblehead.

After my post on Monday, I’m sure you’ve been thinking, “Man I’ve got to see Jaws again (or perhaps for the first time).” Well, here you go: Jaws in 30 Seconds, re-enacted by bunnies.

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”

Advent.
Horatius Bonar (1808–1889)

The Church has waited long
   Her absent Lord to see;
And still in loneliness she waits,
   A friendless stranger she.
Age after age has gone,
   Sun after sun has set,
And still in weeds of widowhood
   She weeps a mourner yet.
      Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

Saint after saint on earth
   Has lived, and loved, and died;
And as they left us one by one,
   We laid them side by side;
We laid them down to sleep,
   But not in hope forlorn;
We laid them but to ripen there,
   Till the last glorious morn.
      Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

The serpent’s brood increase,
   The powers of hell grow bold,
The conflict thickens, faith is low,
   And love is waxing cold.
How long, O Lord our God,
   Holy and true, and good,
Wilt the not judge Thy suffering Church,
   Her sighs and tears and blood?
      Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

We long to hear Thy voice,
   To see Thee face to face,
To share Thy crown and glory then,
   As now we share thy grace.
Should not the loving bride
   The absent bridegroom mourn?
Should she not wear the weeds of grief
   Until her Lord return?
      Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

The whole creation groans,
   And waits to hear that voice,
That shall restore her comeliness,
   And make her wastes rejoice.
Come, Lord, and wipe away
   The curse, the stain, the sin,
And make this blighted world of ours
   Thine own fair world again.
      Come , then, Lord Jesus, come!

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

John 4:7–26

There came a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give Me a drink.” 8 For His disciples had gone away into the city to buy food. 9 Therefore the Samaritan woman said to Him, “How is it that You, being a Jew, ask me for a drink since I am a Samaritan woman?” (For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.) 10 Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.” 11 She said to Him, “Sir, You have nothing to draw with and the well is deep; where then do You get that living water? 12 You are not greater than our father Jacob, are You, who gave us the well, and drank of it himself and his sons and his cattle?” 13 Jesus answered and said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will thirst again; 14 but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst; but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.”
   15 The woman said to Him, “Sir, give me this water, so I will not be thirsty nor come all the way here to draw.” 16 He said to her, “Go, call your husband and come here.” 17 The woman answered and said, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You have correctly said, ‘I have no husband’; 18 for you have had five husbands, and the one whom you now have is not your husband; this you have said truly.” 19 The woman said to Him, “Sir, I perceive that You are a prophet. 20 “Our fathers worshiped in this mountain, and you people say that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship.” 21 Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe Me, an hour is coming when neither in this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. 22 You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. 23 But an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for such people the Father seeks to be His worshipers. 24 God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.” 25 The woman said to Him, “I know that Messiah is coming (He who is called Christ); when that One comes, He will declare all things to us.” 26 Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am He.”

The history of the Samaritan woman, contained in these verses, is one of the most interesting and instructive passages in St. John’s Gospel. John has shown us, in the case of Nicodemus, how our Lord dealt with a self-righteous formalist. He now shows us how our Lord dealt with an ignorant, carnal-minded woman, whose moral character was more than ordinarily bad. There are lessons in the passage for ministers and teachers, which they would do well to ponder.
   We should mark, firstly, the mingled tact and humility of Christ in dealing with a careless sinner.
   Our Lord was sitting by Jacob’s well when a woman of Samaria came thither to draw water. At once He says to her, “Give me to drink.” He does not wait for her to speak to Him. He does not begin by reproving her sins, though He doubtless knew them. He opens communication by asking a favour. He approaches the woman’s mind by the subject of “water,” which was naturally uppermost in her thoughts. Simple as this request may seem, it opened a door to spiritual conversation. It threw a bridge across the gulf which lay between her and Him. It led to the conversion of her soul.
   Our Lord’s conduct in this place should be carefully remembered by all who want to do good to the thoughtless and spiritually ignorant. It is vain to expect that such persons will voluntarily come to us, and begin to seek knowledge. We must begin with them, and go down to them in the spirit of courteous and friendly aggression. It is vain to expect that such people will be prepared for our instruction, and will at once see and acknowledge the wisdom of all we are doing. We must go to work wisely. We must study the best avenues to their hearts, and the most likely way of arresting their attention. There is a handle to every mind, and our chief aim must be to get hold of it. Above all, we must be kind in manner, and beware of showing that we feel conscious of our own superiority. If we let ignorant people fancy that we think we are doing them a great favour in talking to them about religion, there is little hope of doing good to their souls.
   We should mark, secondly, Christ’s readiness to give mercies to careless sinners. He tells the Samaritan woman that if she had asked, “He would have given her living water.” He knew the character of the person before Him perfectly well. Yet He says, “If she had asked, He would have given,”—He would have given the living water of grace, mercy, and peace.
   The infinite willingness of Christ to receive sinners is a golden truth, which ought to be treasured up in our hearts, and diligently impressed on others. The Lord Jesus is far more ready to hear than we are to pray, and far more ready to give favours than we are to ask them. All day long He stretches out His hands to the disobedient and gainsaying. He has thoughts of pity and compassion towards the vilest of sinners, even when they have no thoughts of Him. He stands waiting to bestow mercy and grace on the worst and most unworthy, if they will only cry to Him. He will never draw back from that well known promise, “Ask and ye shall receive: seek and ye shall find.” The lost will discover at the last day, that they had not, because they asked not.
   We should mark, thirdly, the priceless excellence of Christ’s gifts when compared with the things of this world. Our Lord tells the Samaritan woman, “He that drinketh of this water shall thirst again, but he that drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst.”
   The truth of the principle here laid down may be seen on every side by all who are not blinded by prejudice or love of the world. Thousands of men have every temporal good thing that heart could wish, and are yet weary and dissatisfied. It is now as it was in David’s time—”There be many that say who will show us any good.” (Psalm iv. 6.) Riches, and rank, and place, and power, and learning, and amusements, are utterly unable to fill the soul. He that only drinks of these waters is sure to thirst again. Every Ahab finds a Naboth’s vineyard near by his palace, and every Haman sees a Mordecai at the gate. There is no heart satisfaction in this world, until we believe on Christ. Jesus alone can fill up the empty places of our inward man. Jesus alone can give solid, lasting, enduring happiness. The peace that He imparts is a fountain, which, once set flowing within the soul, flows on to all eternity. Its waters may have their ebbing seasons; but they are living waters, and they shall never be completely dried.
   We should mark, fourthly, the absolute necessity of conviction of sin before a soul can be converted to God. The Samaritan woman seems to have been comparatively unmoved until our Lord exposed her breach of the seventh commandment. Those heart-searching words, “Go, call your husband,” appear to have pierced her conscience like an arrow. From that moment, however ignorant, she speaks like an earnest, sincere inquirer after truth. And the reason is evident. She felt that her spiritual disease was discovered. For the first time in her life she saw herself.
   To bring thoughtless people to this state of mind should be the principal aim of all teachers and ministers of the Gospel. They should carefully copy their Master’s example in this place. Until men and women are brought to feel their sinfulness and need, no real good is ever done to their souls. Until a sinner sees himself as God sees him, he will continue careless, trifling, and unmoved. By all means we must labour to convince the unconverted man of sin, to pierce his conscience, to open his eyes, to show him himself. To this end we must expound the length and breadth of God’s holy law. To this end we must denounce every practice contrary to that law, however fashionable and customary. This is the only way to do good. Never does a soul value the Gospel medicine until it feels its disease. Never does a man see any beauty in Christ as a Saviour, until he discovers that he is himself a lost and ruined sinner. Ignorance of sin is invariably attended by neglect of Christ.
   We should mark, fifthly, the utter uselessness of any religion which only consists of formality. The Samaritan woman, when awakened to spiritual concern, started questions about the comparative merits of the Samaritan and Jewish modes of worshiping God. Our Lord tells her that true and acceptable worship depends not on the place in which it is offered, but on the state of the worshiper’s heart. He declares, “The hour cometh when you shall neither in this place nor at Jerusalem worship the Father.” He adds that “the true worshipers shall worship in spirit and in truth.”
   The principle contained in these sentences can never be too strongly impressed on professing Christians. We are all naturally inclined to make religion a mere matter of outward forms and ceremonies, and to attach an excessive importance to our own particular manner of worshiping God. We must beware of this spirit, and especially when we first begin to think seriously about our souls. The heart is the principal thing in all our approaches to God. “The Lord looketh on the heart.” (1 Sam. xvi. 7.) The most gorgeous cathedral-service is offensive in God’s sight, if all is gone through coldly, heartlessly, and without grace. The feeblest gathering of three or four poor believers in a lowly cottage to read the Bible and pray, is a more acceptable sight to Him who searches the heart than the fullest congregation which is ever gathered in St. Peter’s at Rome.
   We should mark, lastly, Christ’s gracious willingness to reveal Himself to the chief of sinners. He concludes His conversation with the Samaritan woman by telling her openly and unreservedly that He is the Saviour of the world. “I that speak to thee,” He says, “am the Messiah.” Nowhere in all the Gospels do we find our Lord making such a full avowal of His nature and office as He does in this place. And this avowal, be it remembered, was made not to learned Scribes, or moral Pharisees, but to one who up to that day had been an ignorant, thoughtless, and immoral person!
   Dealings with sinners, such as these, form one of the grand peculiarities of the Gospel. Whatever a man’s past life may have been, there is hope and a remedy for him in Christ. If he is only willing to hear Christ’s voice and follow Him, Christ is willing to receive him at once as a friend, and to bestow on him the fullest measure of mercy and grace. The Samaritan woman, the penitent thief, the Philippian jailor, the tax-collector Zacchæus, are all patterns of Christ’s readiness to show mercy, and to confer full and immediate pardons. It is His glory that, like a great physician, He will undertake to cure those who are apparently incurable, and that none are too bad for Him to love and heal. Let these things sink down into our hearts. Whatever else we doubt, let us never doubt that Christ’s love to sinners passes knowledge, and that Christ is as willing to receive as He is almighty to save.
   What are we ourselves? This is the question, after all, which demands our attention. We may have been up to this day careless, thoughtless, sinful as the woman whose story we have been reading. But yet there is hope. He who talked with the Samaritan woman at the well is yet living at God’s right hand, and never changes. Let us only ask, and He will “give us living water.”

—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007) [Westminster (PB) | Amazon (HC)], 3:201–206

A	udio Sermons Albert Mohler Alistair Begg Bret Capranica David Legge David Strain John MacArthur John Piper Mark Loughridge Mark Dever Michael Beasley Paul Lamey Paul W Martin Phil Johnson Phillip M Way RC Sproul Steve Weaver Thabiti Abyabwile

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Last week I posted a somewhat humorous anecdote involving ethnically-mixed marriages. Today I want to open that topic for your comments.

I was raised to believe that all human beings are equal. I want to be clear that I am not just kidding myself about that. I was never allowed to believe that the color of my skin made me better than anyone. Segregation and discrimination were evil. It was said that the liberalism that prevails in black churches was due to the fact that conservative seminaries had barred the enrollment of black students. That should be a cause for shame in the church, they said. So I was never a racist in the usual sense of the word.

At the same time, I was taught that ethnically-mixed marriages were, at least, not ideal, and probably not God’s preferred option. There were a couple of reasons for this, and I believed them.

• God created diverse people groups. He obviously wanted his world filled with all of these different peoples. “Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight.” He doesn’t want all of these diverse colors melted into one “gray” race — does he?
• Wisdom dictates that we marry those with whom we share as much in common as possible. Marriage is difficult enough without adding differences to the mix that are inevitably more than skin deep.

While there is a grain of truth in both of those arguments, ultimately, they both fail as barriers to inter-ethnic marriages. Addressing each argument specifically, can you tell me why?

In Charnock’s Discourse IV “On the Wisdom of God,” he offers three points in which wisdom consists: “In acting for a right end,” “in observing all circumstances for action,” and

in willing and acting according to the right reason, according to a right judgment of things. We can never count a wilful man a wise man; but him only that acts according to a right rule, when right counsels are taken and vigorously executed. The resolves and ways of God are not mere will, but will guided by the reason and counsel of his own infinite understanding (Eph. i. 11): “Who works all things according to the counsel of his own will.” The motions of the Divine will are not rash, but follow the proposals of the Divine mind; he chooses that which is fittest to be done, so that all his works are graceful, and all his ways have a comeliness and decorum in them. Hence all his ways are said to be “judgment” (Deut xxxii. 4), not mere will. Hence it appears, that wisdom and knowledge are two distinct perfections. Knowledge hath its seat in the speculative understanding, wisdom in the practical. Wisdom and knowledge are evidently distinguished as two several gifts of the Spirit in man (1 Cor. xii. 8) : “To one is given, by the Spirit, the word of wisdom; to another, the word of knowledge, by the same Spirit.” Knowledge is an understanding of general rules, and wisdom is a drawing conclusions from those rules in order to particular cases. A man may have the knowledge of the whole Scripture, and have all learning in the treasury of his memory, and yet be destitute of skill to make use of them upon particular occasions, and untie those knotty questions which may be proposed to him, by a ready application of those rules. Again, knowledge and wisdom may be distinguished, in our conception, as two distinct perfections in God : the knowledge of God is his understanding of all things; his wisdom is the skilful resolving and acting of all things. And the apostle, in his admiration of him, owns them as distinct; “O the depths of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God” (Rom. xi. 33)! Knowledge is the foundation of wisdom, and antecedent to it; wisdom the superstructure upon knowledge: men may have knowledge without wisdom, but not wisdom without knowledge; according to our common proverb, “The greatest clerks are not the wisest men.” All practical knowledge is founded in speculation, either secundum rem, as in a man; or, secundum rationem, as in God. They agree in this, that they are both acts of the understanding; but knowledge is the apprehension of a thing, and wisdom is the appointing and ordering of things. Wisdom is the splendour and lustre of knowledge shining forth in operations, and is an act both of understanding and will; understanding in counselling and contriving, will in resolving and executing: counsel and will are linked together, (Eph. i. 11).

—Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God (Baker Books, 2005), 1:508.

In my previous post on the Puritans, I gave them credit for the American system of free enterprise. I even went as far as to call them capitalistic. That does not mean they were greedy opportunists. Capitalists may be greedy and unethical, but greed, corruption, and free enterprise are not inseparably linked, as the Puritans demonstrated. While they believed in a legal economic freedom, they did not believe they were morally free to do business as they pleased.

It has become an axiom of modern business that the goal of business is to make as much profit as possible and that any type of competition or selling practice is acceptable as long as it is legal. The Puritans would not agree. For one thing, they looked upon business as a service to society. “We must therefore think,” wrote John Knewstub, “that when we come to buying and selling, we come to witness our love towards our neighbor by our well dealing with him in his goods.” William Perkins said, “The end of a man’s calling is not to gather riches for himself . . . But to serve God in the serving of man, and in the seeking the good of all men.” —Leland Ryken, Worldly Saints: The Puritans as They Really Were (Academie Books, 1986), 69.

While believing that their labors were a “service to society” for “the good of all men,” they were not concerned with the pursuit of economic equality.

A final force of modern life of which the Puritans would not approve is socialism, whether in its overt form of government ownership or in its subtle form of the welfare state. William Ames wrote, “Ownership and differences in the amount of possessions are ordinances of God and approved by him, Prov. 22:2; 2 Thess. 3:12.” John Robinson commented:

God could, if he would, either have made men’s states more equal, or have given every one sufficient of his own. But he had rather chosen to make some rich, and some poor, that one might stand in need of another, to help another, that so he might try the mercy and goodness of them that are able, in supplying the wants of the rest.

—Ibid., 70.

Puritan preaching was the bane of the Anglican establishment. Starved on a diet of liturgy and homilies prescribed by the Book of Common Prayer, parishioners would travel for miles to hear the genuine preaching of Puritan pastors. Congregations sat with pleasure through typically hour-long sermons, usually two per Sunday.

The Puritans favored “painful preaching.” By “painful” they meant painstaking, meticulous, prepared with diligence to rightly divide the Word.

   Despite their bent toward doctrine and theology, the Puritans overwhelmingly favored expository sermons that “opened” the meanings of a specific biblical passage. William Ames paid his disrespect to topical preaching that slighted the announced text from the Bible:

Ministers impose upon their hearers and altogether forget themselves when they propound a certain text in the beginning as the start of the sermon and then speak many things about or simply by occasion of the text but for the most part draw nothing out of the text itself.

   The physical opening of the Bible in the pulpit during the service symbolized the aim of expository preaching, which was to unfold the latent meanings of a specific biblical text.
   This aim, in turn, determined the methodology of Puritan preachers, which was to tie the entire sermon to the chosen text in the Bible. William Chappell defined a sermon as “a discourse on a text of scripture, disposing its parts according to the order of nature.” the Puritans were strong advocates of application in a sermon, as we will see, but it all started with the Bible itself. In the words of William Ames, “first the things in the text must be stated. . . . In setting forth the truth in the text the minister should first explain it and then indicate the good which flows from it.”
   Of the customary three parts of a Puritan sermon, two were closely tied to the Bible itself. According to the Dictionary of Public Worship adopted by the Westminster Assembly,

In raising doctrines from the text, his care ought to be, first, that the matter be the truth of God. Secondly, that it be a truth contained in, or grounded on, that text that the hearers may discern how God teaches it from thence.

This conviction about the centrality of the Bible in preaching was reinforced by the practice of largely or exclusively limiting the details of the sermon to biblical material. William Perkins, for example, encouraged the reading of patristic sources in sermon preparation, but also the concealment if his study in the citations made from the pulpit.
   The effect of this type of biblical preaching has been well summarized by a modern scholar who studied a century of the St. Paul’s Cross sermons preach in London:

For the Puritans, the sermon is not just hinged to Scripture; it quite literally exists inside the Word of God; the text is not in the sermon, but the sermon is in the text. . . . Put summarily, listening to a sermon is being in the Bible.

—Leland Ryken, Worldly Saints: The Puritans as They Really Were (Academie Books, 1986), 98–99.

Summer is over. Which brings us to the question we’ve all been contemplating over the last few months:

What is the radius (r) of a sphere the surface area (sa) of which is 46π cm2?

First, we write out the equation.
Teaching this, I find it helpful to color-code the factors to make it easier to follow them when we invert the equation to find the radius.
Since the sa of a sphere = 4πr2, we write the equation thus:

sa = 4πr2 = 46π cm2

Then we invert the equation to find the radius:

r = √46π cm2
       4π

Eliminate the factors common to numerator and denominator:

r = √46π cm2
       4π

r = √46 cm2
       4 2   (4 = 22)

And the solution is:

r = √46/2 cm*

School is in session. The problem above is easy, just a review from Algebra 1, but I’ve got a whole year of teaching Algebra 2 ahead of me. Math is fun, and that’s no joke. I really do enjoy it. But teaching it is somewhat less fun at times. Buy stock in McNeil-PPC.

* Solution corrected thanks to Aric.

This is not the kind of post I like to write. To be honest, I must admit that this kind of diatribe flows quite easily from my naturally critical nature, but I would really rather not post it, and I certainly don’t want this to become typical of this blog. Nevertheless, I’ve been sitting on these thoughts for a couple of years now, and recent events have prompted me to be done with it. So I offer my apologies for the possibly unpleasant tone, but not for the content, that follows this preface. It might seem a bit exaggerated and overwrought, but I have carefully considered the truthfulness of my statements, as well as the motives behind them, and my conscience is clear.

I made a conscious decision some time ago to avoid the comments sections of most of the blogs I read. Reason number one is that James White was so right when he called blog comments “theological ignorance aggregators.” Everyone is an expert, and the more ignorant the participant, the more time and energy he has to invest, and the less likely he is to ever give up. Reason number two is the time they can suck out of your life. Suppose someone actually responds to your comment? You can get drawn into a lengthy discussion that courtesy, at the least, requires you to follow through to the end. That might be a good thing, but you have to actually have that time to spare. Reason number three is that so many bloggers who would say “iron sharpens iron” really mean “my iron trumps your tin.”

But sometimes I forget, and think a dissenting view might be thoughtfully received, even in a place where history has proven otherwise. I’ve recently had reason to reflect on my folly, and the following thoughts come to mind.

A few observations:

• Dismissing is not the same as refuting.
• Mockery is not a fruit of the Spirit.
• Smug is not a spiritual gift.

And a warning:
If you build a personality-based following, that is, if your fans — you have fans! — “love” you because you are cool, hip, edgy, controversial, in-your-face, be aware that your comment section will be populated by high-fiveing sycophants who will do little more than congratulate you for your cleverness. You will enjoy their adoration. After all, who wouldn’t? You might — and here is the hazard — start believing you really are as sharp as they think you are. But you’re not, and you never will be. No matter how intelligent, erudite, and astute you are, you will never be the genius your blog-disciples take you for, because their critical thinking skills have been blinded by the shekinah of your personality.

Consequently, you will tend to dismiss challenges to your ex cathedra encyclicals without giving them serious thought. You will find it easy to simply mock your challengers and send them on their way, while your followers heap on the adulation or, lacking any original thoughts of their own, simply repeat revised snippets of what you’ve already written. “Classic!” “Yeah, yeah, what you said, yeah!”

Meanwhile, you’ve accomplished what you needed in order to maintain your kingdom: you’ve gotten the independent thinkers to go away, wondering why they wasted their time. This is unfortunate for everyone involved, but the sad consequence for you is that the only conversation you’ll ever have is with people who’ve got nothing to give because they all aspire to be you.

This is just another demonstration of the difference between the internet and the tangible world in which we really live. The kind of magic kingdom that can be created between the www and the dot com cannot be sustained in the real world. In the real world, there is accountability. Sure, you might be able to maintain some small corner in which no one challenges you, but it’s only a corner. If you’re the boss of your own company, you might surround yourself with yes-men, but only at the peril of your livelihood. On the internet, you’ve got nothing to lose but the esteem of people you will most likely never meet. So you invest your online time in people who will provide you with your much-needed affirmation, and breeze past the rest with a dismissive wave. If they can’t get on board your little bandwagon — and it is tiny, relative to the real world, even if you’ve made the Top 100 — who needs them?

The upside, of course, is the boost to your self esteem. You will never have to be wrong again. And try not to worry about that Proverbs 16:18 thing (and I won’t even mention Daniel 4:37). It doesn’t apply to you.

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”

Amazing Grace

O thou giving God,

My heart is drawn out in thankfulness
      to thee,
   for thy amazing grace and condescension
      to me
   in influences and assistances of thy Spirit,
   for special help in prayer,
   for the sweetness of Christian service,
   for the thoughts of arriving in heaven,
   for always sending me needful supplies,
   for raising me new to life when I am
      like one dead.
I want not the favor of man to lean upon
   for thy favor is infinitely better.
Thou art eternal wisdom in dispensations
   towards me;
   and it matters not when, nor where, nor how
      I serve thee,
   nor what trials I am exercised with,
   if I might but be prepared for thy work and will.
No poor creature stands in need of divine grace
   more than I do,
And yet none abuses it more than I have done
   and still do.
How heartless and dull am I!
Humble me in the dust for mot loving thee more.
Every time I exercise any grace renewedly
   I renewedly indebted to thee,
   the God of all grace, for special assistance.
I cannot boast when I think how dependent
   I am on thee for the being and every act
      of grace;
I never do anything but depart from thee,
   and if I ever get to heaven it will be because
      thou willest it, and for no reason beside.
I love, as a feeble, afflicted, despised creature,
   to cast myself on thy infinite grace and goodness,
   hoping for no happiness but from thee;
Give me special grace fit me for special services,
   and keep me calm and resigned at all times,
   humble, solemn, mortified,
   and conformed to thy will.

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

John 4:27–30
Christ Witnesses to the Disciples

At this point His disciples came, and they were amazed that He had been speaking with a woman, yet no one said, “What do You seek?” or, “Why do You speak with her?” 28 So the woman left her waterpot, and went into the city and said to the men, 29 “Come, see a man who told me all the things that I have done; this is not the Christ, is it?” 30 They went out of the city, and were coming to Him.

These verses continue the well-known story of the Samaritan woman’s conversion. Short as the passage may appear, it contains points of deep interest and importance. The mere worldling, who cares, nothing about experimental religion, may see nothing particular in these verses. To all who desire to know something of the experience of a converted person, they will be found full of food for thought.
   We see, firstly, in this passage, how marvelous in the eyes of man are Christ’s dealings with souls. We are told that the disciples “marvelled that he talked with the woman.” That their Master should take the trouble to talk to a woman at all, and to a Samaritan woman, and to a strange woman at a well, when He was wearied with His journey,—all this was amazing to the eleven disciples. It was a sort of thing which they did not expect. It was contrary to their idea of what a religious teacher should do. It startled them and filled them with surprise.
   The feeling displayed by the disciples on this occasion, does not stand alone in the Bible. When our Lord allowed publicans and sinners to draw near to Him and be in His company, the Pharisees marvelled. They exclaimed, “This man receiveth sinners and eateth with them.” (Luke xv. 2.)—When Saul came back from Damascus, a converted man and a new creature, the Christians at Jerusalem were astonished. “They did not believe that he was a disciple.” (Acts ix. 26.)—When Peter was delivered from Herod’s prison by an angel, and brought to the door of the house where disciples were praying for his deliverance, they were so taken by surprise that they could not believe it was Peter. “When they saw him they were astonished.” (Acts xii. 16.)
   But why should we stop short in Bible instances? The true Christian has only to look around him in this world in order to see abundant illustrations of the truth before us. How much astonishment every fresh conversion occasions. What surprise is expressed at the change in the heart, life, tastes, and habits of the converted person! What wonder is felt at the power, the mercy, the patience, the compassion of Christ! It is now as it was eighteen hundred years ago. The dealings of Christ are still a marvel both to the Church and to the world.
   If there was more real faith on the earth, there would be less surprise felt at the conversion of souls. If Christians believed more, they would expect more, and if they understood Christ better, they would be less startled and astonished when He calls and saves the chief of sinners. We should consider nothing impossible, and regard no sinner as beyond the reach of the grace of God. The astonishment expressed at conversions is a proof of the weak faith and ignorance of these latter days. The thing that ought to fill us with surprise is the obstinate unbelief of the ungodly, and their determined perseverance in the way to ruin. This was the mind of Christ. It is written that He thanked the Father for conversions. But He marvelled at unbelief. (Matt xi. 25; Mark vi. 6.)
   We see, secondly, in this passage, how absorbing is the influence of grace, when it first comes into a believer’s heart. We are told that after our Lord had told the woman He was the Messiah, “She left her water-pot and went her way into the city, and saith to the men, Come, see a man which told me all things that ever I did.” She had left her home for the express purpose of drawing water. She had carried a large vessel to the well, intending to bring it back filled. But she found at the well a new heart, and new objects of interest. She became a new creature. Old things passed away. All things became new. At once everything else was forgotten for the time. She could think of nothing but the truths she had heard, and the Saviour she had found. In the fullness of her heart she “left her water-pot,” and hastened away to tell others.
   We see here the expulsive power of the grace of the Holy Spirit. Grace once introduced into the heart drives out old tastes and interests. A converted person no longs cares for what he once cared for. A new tenant is in the house. A new pilot is at the helm. The whole world looks different. All things have become new. It was so with Matthew the tax-collector. The moment that grace came into his heart he left the receipt of custom. (Matt. ix. 9.)—It was so with Peter, James, and John, and Andrew. As soon as they were converted they forsook their nets and fishing-boats. (Mark i.19.)—It was so with Saul the Pharisee. As soon as he became a Christian he gave up all his brilliant prospects as a Jew, in order to preach the faith he had once despised. (Acts ix. 20.)—The conduct of the Samaritan woman was precisely of the same kind. For the time present the salvation she had found completely filled her mind. That she never returned for her water-pot would be more than we have a right to say. But under the first impressions of new spiritual life, she went away and “left her water-pot” behind.
   Conduct like that here described is doubtless uncommon in the present day. Rarely do we see a person so entirely taken up with spiritual matters, that attention to this world’s affairs is made a secondary matter, or postponed. And why is it so? Simply because true conversions to God are uncommon. Few really feel their sins, and flee to Christ by faith. Few really pass from death to life, and become new creatures. Yet these few are the real Christians of the world. These are the people whose religion, like the Samaritan woman’s, tells on others. Happy are they who know something by experience of this woman’s feelings, and can say with Paul, “I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ!” Happy are they who have given up everything for Christ’s sake, or at any rate have altered the relative importance of all things in their minds! “If thine eye be single thy whole body shall be full of light.” (Philip. iii. 8; Matt. iv. 22.)
   We see, lastly, in this passage, how zealous a truly converted person is to do good to others. We are told that the Samaritan woman “went into the city, and said to the men, Come, see a man who told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?” In the day of her conversion she became a missionary. She felt so deeply the amazing benefit she had received from Christ, that she could not hold her peace about Him. Just as Andrew told his brother Peter about Jesus, and Philip told Nathanael that he had found Messiah, and Saul, when converted, immediately preached Christ, so, in the same way, the Samaritan woman said, “Come and see Christ.” She used no abstruse arguments. She attempted no deep reasoning about our Lord’s claim to be the Messiah. She only said, “Come and see.” Out of the abundance of her heart her mouth spoke.
   That which the Samaritan woman here did, all true Christians ought to do likewise. The Church needs it. The state of the world demands it. Common sense points out that it is right. Every one who has received the grace of God, and tasted that Christ is gracious, ought to find words to testify of Christ to others. Where is our faith, if we believe that souls around us are perishing, and that Christ alone can save them, and yet remain silent? Where is our charity if we can see others going down to hell, and yet say nothing to them about Christ and salvation?—We may well doubt our own love to Christ, if our hearts are never moved to speak of Him. We may well doubt the safety of our own souls, if we feel no concern about the souls of others.
   What are we ourselves? This is the question, after all, which demands our notice. Do we feel the supreme importance of spiritual things, and the comparative nothingness of the things of the world? Do we ever talk to others about God, and Christ, and eternity, and the soul, and heaven, and hell? If not, what is the value of our faith? Where is the reality of our Christianity? Let us take heed lest we awake too late, and find that we are lost forever, a wonder to angels and devils, and, above all, a wonder to ourselves, because of our own obstinate blindness and folly.

—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007) [Westminster (PB) | Amazon (HC)], 3:227–232

A	udio Sermons Albert Mohler Alistair Begg Bret Capranica David Legge David Strain John MacArthur John Piper Mark Loughridge Mark Dever Michael Beasley Paul Lamey Paul W Martin Phil Johnson Phillip M Way RC Sproul Steve Weaver Thabiti Abyabwile

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

In part one of this article, I presented two reasons why inter-ethnic marriages are a bad idea. Today I’m going to explain why those reasons don’t hold water.

To review, my reasons were:

• God created diverse people groups. He obviously wanted his world filled with all of these different peoples. “Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight.” He doesn’t want all of these diverse colors melted into one “gray” race — does he?
• Wisdom dictates that we marry those with whom we share as much as possible in common. Marriage is difficult enough without adding differences to the mix that are inevitably more than skin deep.

As I stated previously, there is a grain of truth in both of those arguments.

• God did create diverse people groups. Originally, of course, there was one man and one woman; not much diversity there. However, unless you are a deist, you must believe that the presence of diverse peoples now is indicative of creative intent. That goes double for Calvinists.
• Wisdom does dictate that we marry those with whom we share as much as possible in common. Your spouse is most likely different from you in many ways. Some of those differences are complementary — I hope — but some are not. While you may, and should, appreciate many of those differences, it is your commonality that ties you together.

So much for grains of truth.

The first reason fails on two counts. First, while God did indeed create diversity, he never decreed it, nor gave any commands that we maintain it. He created male and female for each other, and explicitly condemned homosexuality. He created man and animal and explicitly condemned bestiality. But when he diversified the human race, he spoke not one word about maintaining that diversity. Second, if God wants to maintain his ethnic rainbow, can he not do so without our efforts? And can anyone really think that the various colors of the world are ever going to disappear? That would require a globally coordinated effort enforceable by law! The peoples of the world would have to come together as they did at Babel, and we know how that ended, don’t we?

The second reason may not be quite as stupid as the first, but it is more seriously wrong. I affirmed above that “Wisdom does dictate that we marry those with whom we share as much as possible in common.” A possible corollary to that might say that wisdom dictates that we marry those with whom we have as few differences as possible, and that thought was implicit in the reasoning I was taught and believed for years. But is that a necessary corollary?

Irreconcilable differences do exist (James 4:4; 2 Corinthians 6:14–16), but if a couple is united in their love for Christ, if they have a common “zeal for God” that is “in accordance with knowledge” (Romans 10), they need never worry about irreconcilable differences. Love does indeed “conquer all” — not romantic love, but genuine love that is rooted in a mutual love for Christ. This is a gospel issue. Is your gospel so small that it can’t encompass all (non-theological) differences and even turn them into assets for your benefit and for the glory of God? Did your gospel save you from hell, but not much else? We who have been “transformed by the renewing of [our minds]” (Romans 12:2) ought to think differently.

As I review, there is something dissatisfying about that final paragraph, something missing. With that said, I am going to publish anyway, trusting that I haven’t completely failed to communicate the point.

As beings created in God’s image, we share some of his attributes. Those attributes that we share are called communicable attributes. We, of course, possess these attributes incompletely and imperfectly, while in God they are seen in all their complete perfection. But there is a more important, more fundamental difference in the way we possess these communicable attributes. While we are said to possess them because they are communicated, or added, to us, they are not added to God. Charnock wrote:

[T]he wisdom of God is the same with the essence of God. Wisdom in God is not a habit added to his essence, as it is in man, but it is his essence. It is like the splendour of the sun, the same with the sun itself; or like the brightness of crystal, which is not communicated to it by any thing else, as the brightness of a mountain is by the beam of the sun, but it is one with the crystal itself. It is not a habit superadded to the Divine essence; that would be repugnant to the simplicity of God, and speak him compounded of divers principles; it would be contrary to the eternity of his perfections: if he be eternally wise, his wisdom is his essence; for there is nothing eternal but the essence of God. As the sun melts some things, and hardens others; blackens some things, and whitens others, and produceth contrary qualities in different subjects, yet it is but one and the same quality in the sun, which is the cause of those contrary operations; so the perfections of God seem to be diverse in our conceptions, yet they are but one and the same in God. The wisdom of God, is God acting prudently; as the power of God, is God acting powerfully; and the justice of God, is God acting righteously: and therefore it is more truly said, that God is wisdom, justice, truth, power, than that he is wise, just, true, &c. as if he were compounded of substance and qualities. All the operations of God proceed from one simple essence; as all the operations of the mind of man, though various, proceed from one faculty of understanding.

—Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God (Baker Books, 2005), 1:509.

As we have seen, Puritans preachers were diligent scholars, meticulous in their sermon preparation. But they were not show-offs, concerned with demonstrating just how scholarly they were. The purpose of their scholarship was to bring the message to all classes, from the most learned to the most simple.

William Perkins theorized that preaching “must be plain, perspicuous, and evident. . . . It is a by-word among us: It was a very plain sermon: And I say again, the plainer the better.” Richard Sibbes claimed that

truth feareth nothing so much as concealment, and desireth nothing so much as to be laid open to the view of all: when it is most naked, it is most lovely and powerful.

   And Henry Smith said that “to preach simply is not to preach rudely, nor unlearned, nor confusedly, but to preach plainly and perspicuously that the simplest man may understand what is taught, as if he did hear his name.”
   Plain preaching was defined by what it lacked as well as by what it contained. What is avoided was such things as the “heaping up of citations of Fathers, and repeating words of Latin or Greek.” What the Puritans did not want was a pastiche of quotations or an embellished style that called great attention to its own ostentatiousness. For Samuel Torshell it was a sign of bad preaching to “tell you how many Fathers we have read, how much we are acquainted with the schoolmen, what critical linguists we are or the like. It is wretched ostentation.”
   Why did the Puritans dislike the high style in sermons? For one thing, they felt it diverted attention from the content of the sermon to the preacher, for whom the occasion became, in modern parlance, an “ego trip.” In the ostentatious style, said Perkins, “we do not paint Christ, but . . . our own selves.”

—Leland Ryken, Worldly Saints: The Puritans as They Really Were (Academie Books, 1986), 104–105.

Six hundred years ago, Jan Hus wrote that “neither is the pope the head nor are the cardinals the whole body of the holy, universal, catholic church. For Christ alone is the head of that church, and his predestinate are the body and each one is a member, because his bride is one person with Jesus Christ” [The Church, ed. David S. Schaff (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1915), 66.]. One hundred years later, Luther echoed those words. That Reformation tradition was carried forward by the Puritans. Leland Ryken writes:

   The greatest of all Puritan legacies in regard to ecclesiastical theory was also the most revolutionary in its time. It was the notion that the church is a spiritual reality. It is not impressive buildings or fancy clerical vestments. It is instead the company of the redeemed.
   The Puritans repeatedly showed their acceptance of Luther’s dictum that “The church is a spiritual assembly of souls. . . . The true, real, right, essential church is a matter of the spirit and not of anything external.” For William Gouge the church consists of those who “inwardly and effectively by the spirit . . . believe in Christ.’’ John Hooper denied that the church consists of “bishops, priests and such other,” affirming rather that it is “the company of all men hearing God’s Word and obeying unto the same.” Richard Baxter agreed: the church is “a holy Christian society for ordinary holy communion and mutual help in God’s public worship and holy living.”
   Implicit in these definitions of the church is a Puritan preference for the invisible church over a type of institutional structure. The church is emphatically not the professional clergy and their rituals. “What understand you by the church?” asked John Ball’s Catechism. The answer: “by the church, we understand not the pope. . . ; nor his bishops and cardinals met in general council. . . ; but the whole company of believers.” If the church is essentially invisible rather than institutional, its head is obviously not a pope or church council, but Christ. The Puritans reiterated this again and again, as when Gouge spoke of “that church whereof Christ is properly head.”

—Leland Ryken, Worldly Saints: The Puritans as They Really Were (Academie Books, 1986), 115.

Humble man that I am, I have my spam filter set to keep out any comments that might tend to puff me up. The following are examples:

“I love this site”

“Very interesting tale”

“Best Site Good Work”

“perfect design thanks”

“Cool site good luck”

“good material thanks”

“very best job”

“Excellent work, Nice Design”

“I'm happy very good site”

“this post is fantastic”

You can see why I want to avoid all that flattery. Still, I’d like to thank all the kind readers who left those encouraging comments. Thanks also for the many links you provided. I don’t have time to check them out, but I’m sure they are all very useful.

   In case you didn’t get this — and if you’re not a blogger,
   you probably won’t — this is completely sarcastic.

The Obamessiah displays more of his unfathomable hubris. This guy gets scarier every time he opens his mouth. If I wasn’t a Calvinist, I don’t think I could face another day.

Twenty-five years late, it is now 1984, in the UK, at least. Can we be far behind?

Jimmy Carter reminds us once again why November 4, 1980 was such a high point in American history.

Can anyone translate Proverbs 26:11 into Russian?

But enough of politics. Here’s something to get the bad taste out of your mouth:

Even Phil Johnson’s diet is quite mundane compared to this. Notice: the Thirsty Theologian cannot vouch for the contents of that site beyond the linked page. (That is, the purpleslinky.com page, not Phil’s.)

In case you need something to wash that down . . .

Warning: Southern Baptists will want to plug their ears and sing “la la la I can’t hear you” through this one. Tim Archer has written what looks like a pretty good series on alcohol. He links both to me and to Bob Hayton’s excellent article on Isaiah 16:10 and the Two-Wine Theory, so I’m linking him here. Cheers!

• The Christian and Alcohol (Alcohol abuse)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 2 (Alcohol in the history of the U.S.)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 3 (Seeing what the Bible says about alcohol)

• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 4 (What the Pentateuch says about alcohol)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 5 (What the rest of the Old Testament says about alcohol)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 6 (What Proverbs and Ecclesiastes say about alcohol)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 7 (What the gospels say about alcohol)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 8 (What the rest of the New Testament says about alcohol)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 9 (Additional passages to consider)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 10 (Additional passages to consider)
• The Christian and Alcohol, Part 11 (Modern concepts forced onto an ancient text)

Now you’re wondering (I’m sure), “How do I keep my beer cold?” Try this.

Now, on to the topic most guaranteed to bore me to death: sports.

This is one reason why I like tennis, and the only reason I hate hockey: in tennis, the players are expected to behave themselves.

That is all. Have a good weekend and a blessed Lord’s Day.

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”

HYMN 29. (C. M.)
The ruin of Antichrist. Isa. lxiii. 4—7.
Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

I lift my banner,” saith the Lord,
   “Where Antichrist has stood;
The city of my gospel foes
   Shall be a field of blood.

“My heart has studied just revenge,
   And now the day appears;
The day of my redeem’d is come
   To wipe away their tears.

“Quite weary is my patience grown,
   And bids my fury go;
Swift as the lightning it shall move,
   And be as fatal too.

“I call for helpers, but in vain;
   Then has my gospel none?
Well, mine own arm has might enough
   To crush my foes alone.

“Slaughter and my devouring sword
   Shall walk the streets around,
Babel shall reel beneath my stroke,
   And stagger to the ground.”

Thy honours, O victorious King!
   Thine own right hand shall raise,
While we thy awful vengeance sing,
   And our deliv’rer praise.

—from The Psalms & Hymns of Isaac Watts. Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Book I: Collected from the Holy Scriptures

John 4:31–42

Meanwhile the disciples were urging Him, saying, “Rabbi, eat.” 32 But He said to them, “I have food to eat that you do not know about.” 33 So the disciples were saying to one another, “No one brought Him anything to eat, did he?” 34 Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work. 35 “Do you not say, ‘There are yet four months, and then comes the harvest’? Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes and look on the fields, that they are white for harvest. 36 “Already he who reaps is receiving wages and is gathering fruit for life eternal; so that he who sows and he who reaps may rejoice together. 37 “For in this case the saying is true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’ 38 “I sent you to reap that for which you have not labored; others have labored and you have entered into their labor.”

Christ witnesses to the Samaritans

   39 From that city many of the Samaritans believed in Him because of the word of the woman who testified, “He told me all the things that I have done.” 40 So when the Samaritans came to Jesus, they were asking Him to stay with them; and He stayed there two days. 41 Many more believed because of His word; 42 and they were saying to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves and know that this One is indeed the Savior of the world.”

We have, for one thing, in these verses, an instructive pattern of zeal for the good of others. We read, that our Lord Jesus Christ declares, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me, and to finish his work.” To do good was not merely duty and pleasure to Him. He counted it as His food and drink. Job, one of the holiest Old Testament saints, could say, that he esteemed God’s word “more than his necessary food.” (Job xxiii. 12.) The Great Head of the New Testament Church went even further. He could say the same of God’s work.
   Do we do any work for God? Do we try, however feebly, to set forward His cause on earth,—to check that which is evil, to promote that which is good? If we do, let us never be ashamed of doing it with all our heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. Whatsoever our hand finds to do for the souls of others, let us do it with our might. (Eccles. ix. 10.) The world may mock and sneer, and call us enthusiasts. The world can admire zeal in any service but that of God, and can praise enthusiasm on any subject but that of religion. Let us work on unmoved. Whatever men may say and think, we are walking in the steps of our Lord Jesus Christ.
   Let us, beside this, take comfort in the thought that Jesus Christ never changes. He that sat by the well of Samaria, and found it “food and drink” to do good to an ignorant soul, is always in one mind. High in heaven at God’s right hand, He still delights to save sinners, and still approves zeal and labour in the cause of God. The work of the missionary and the evangelist may be despised and ridiculed in many quarters. But while man is mocking, Christ is well pleased! Thanks be to God, Jesus is the same yesterday, and to-day, and forever.
   We have, for another thing, in these verses, strong encouragement held out to those who labour to do good to souls. We read, that our Lord described the world as a “field white for the harvest;” and then said to His disciples, “He that reapeth, receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life eternal.”
   Work for the souls of men, is undoubtedly attended by great discouragements. The heart of natural man is very hard and unbelieving. The blindness of unsaved men to their own lost condition and peril of ruin, is something past description. “The carnal mind is enmity against God.” (Rom. viii. 7.) No one can have any just idea of the desperate hardness of men and women, until he has tried to do good. No one can have any conception of the small number of those who repent and believe, until he has personally endeavoured to “save some.” (1 Cor. ix. 22.) To suppose that everybody will become a true Christian, who is told about Christ, and entreated to believe, is mere childish ignorance. “Few there be that find the narrow way!” The labourer for Christ will find the vast majority of those among whom he labours, unbelieving and impenitent, in spite of all that he can do. “The many” will not turn to Christ. These are discouraging facts. But they are facts, and facts that ought to be known.
   The true antidote against despondency in God’s work, is an abiding recollection of such promises as that before us. There are “wages” laid up for faithful reapers. They shall receive a reward at the last day, far exceeding anything they have done for Christ,—a reward proportioned not to their success, but to the quantity of their work.—They are gathering “fruit,” which shall endure when this world has passed away,—fruit, in some souls saved, if many will not believe, and fruit in evidences of their own faithfulness, to be brought out before assembled worlds. Do our hands ever hang down, and our knees wax faint? Do we feel disposed to say, “my labour is in vain and my words without profit.” Let us lean back at such seasons on this glorious promise. There are “wages” yet to be paid. There is “fruit” yet to be exhibited. “We are a sweet savour of Christ, both in those who are saved and in those who perish.” (2 Cor. ii. 15.) Let us work on. “He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.” (Psalm cxxvi. 6.) One single soul saved, shall outlive and outweigh all the kingdoms of the world.
   We have, lastly, in these verses, a most teaching instance of the variety of ways by which men are led to believe Christ. We read that “many of the Samaritans believed on Christ for the saying of the woman.” But this is not all. We read again, “Many more believed because of Christ’s own word.” In short, some were converted trough the means of the woman’s testimony, and some were converted by hearing Christ Himself.
   The words of Paul should never be forgotten, “There are diversities of operations, but it is the same God which worketh all in all.” (1 Cor. xii. 6.) The way in which the Spirit leads all God’s people is always one and the same. But the paths by which they are severally brought into that road are often widely different. There are some in whom the work of conversion is sudden and instantaneous. There are others in whom it goes on slowly, quietly, and by imperceptible degrees. Some have their hearts gently opened, like Lydia. Others are aroused by violent alarm, like the jailor at Philippi. All are finally brought to repentance toward God, faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ, and holiness of conversation. But all do not begin with the same experience. The weapon which carries conviction to one believer’s soul, is not the one which first pierces another. The arrows of the Holy Spirit are all drawn from the same quiver. But He uses sometimes one and sometimes another, according to His own sovereign will.
   Are we converted ourselves? This is the one point to which our attention ought to be directed. Our experience may not tally with that of other believers. But that is not the question. Do we feel sin, hate it, and flee from it? Do we love Christ, and rest solely on Him for salvation? Are we bringing forth fruits of the Spirit in righteousness and true holiness? If these things are so we may thank God, and take courage.

—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007) [Westminster (PB) | Amazon (HC)], 3:238–241

A	udio Sermons Albert Mohler Alistair Begg Bret Capranica David Legge David Strain John MacArthur John Piper Mark Loughridge Mark Dever Michael Beasley Paul Lamey Paul W Martin Phil Johnson Phillip M Way RC Sproul Steve Weaver Thabiti Abyabwile

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Some time ago, I began writing a series of posts on “Being Christian.” I want to return now to that theme, considering Galatians 5:22–25. This passage will, if the Lord is willing and I follow through, serve as a segue into a few future posts on related passages.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. 24 Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.
   25 If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit.

Tangent: The filling of the Spirit, which is an on-going process throughout every Christian’s life, should not be confused with baptism of the Spirit, which is a one-time event that happens to every believer at the moment of regeneration. (See John MacArthur, The Baptism of the Holy Spirit.)

Notice the word fruit in verse 22. It does not say that the fruits of the Spirit are, but that the fruit . . . is. The list that follows is not of fruits of the Spirit, but various manifestations of that singular fruit. These are the characteristics that flow from being filled with the Spirit. These manifestations are, it is vital to note, not works. This is not a list of things to do, as if we could produce spiritual fruit through fleshly effort.

The Geneva Bible notes state succinctly:

Therefore, they are not the fruits of free will, but so far forth as our will is made free by grace.1

Matthew Henry wrote:

And here we may observe that as sin is called the work of the flesh, because the flesh, or corrupt nature, is the principle that moves and excites men to it, so grace is said to be the fruit of the Spirit, because it wholly proceeds from the Spirit, as the fruit does from the root . . .2

And John Gill:

Not of nature or man's free will, as corrupted by sin, for no good fruit springs from thence; but either of the internal principle of grace, called the Spirit, ver. 17. or rather of the Holy Spirit . . ; the graces of which are called fruit, and not works, as the actions of the flesh are; because they are owing to divine influence efficacy, and bounty, as the fruits of the earth are, to which the allusion is; and not to a man’s self, to the power and principles of nature; and because they arise from a seed, either the incorruptible seed of internal grace, which seminally contains all graces in it, or the blessed Spirit, who is the seed that remains in believers; and because they are in the exercise of them acceptable unto God through Christ, and are grateful and delightful to Christ himself, being his pleasant fruits; which as they come from him, as the author of them, they are exercised on him as the object of them, under the influence of the Spirit . . .3

Finally, John MacArthur:

   Contrasted with the deeds of the flesh is the fruit of the Spirit. Deeds of the flesh are done by a person’s own efforts, whether he is saved or unsaved. The fruit of the Spirit, on the other hand, is produced by God’s own Spirit and only in the lives of those who belong to Him through faith in Jesus Christ.4

The fruit of the Spirit is a list, then, of indications that one belongs to Christ and has therefore “crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” It is a standard of measure to which we can refer when examining ourselves in the spirit of 2 Corinthians 13:5: “Test yourselves to see if you are in the faith; examine yourselves! Or do you not recognize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you—unless indeed you fail the test?”

The question this passage asks us is, Are we filled with the Spirit? The filling of the Spirit is something we need continuously. D. L. Moody, when asked why this is, reportedly replied, “Because I leak.” Whether that exchange actually occurred, or is apocryphal, it certainly is true. What are we to do? We can’t fill ourselves with the Holy Spirit. Contrary to the beliefs of many, there is no one we can go to for an “anointing,” no one who can zap us with the Spirit.

Consider these two parallel passages:

Ephesians 5:18 And do not get drunk with wine, for that is dissipation, but be filled with the Spirit, 19 speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord; 20 always giving thanks for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father; 21 and be subject to one another in the fear of Christ.

Colossians 3:16 Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. 17 Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father.
   18 Wives, be subject to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.

Can you see the parallel?

Ephesians:	Colossians:
be filled with the Spirit	Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you
speaking to one another in psalms . . .	teaching and admonishing one another with psalms . . .
giving thanks	with thankfulness . . . giving thanks
be subject to one another in the fear of Christ	Wives, be subject to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord

We can see that the results of being filled with the Spirit are precisely the same as those of letting “the word of Christ richly dwell within” us. The Holy Spirit fills us as we devote ourselves to “the word of Christ.” On this parallel, John MacArthur writes,

The result of being filled with the Holy Spirit is the same as the result of letting the Word dwell in one’s life richly. Therefore, the two are the same spiritual reality viewed from two sides. To be filled with the Spirit is to be controlled by His Word. To have the Word dwelling richly is to be controlled by His Spirit. Since the Holy Spirit is the author and power of the word, the expressions are interchangeable.5

This truth is seen also in Christ’s High Priestly Prayer (John 17), when he prayed that the Father would “Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth.” (verse 17).

So, coming back to Galatians 5, we can conclude that love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are the fruit of letting the Word of Christ, which is the Holy Spirit’s voice, richly dwell within us.

1 1599 Geneva Bible, (Tolle Lege Press, 2006)

2 Matthew Henry’s Commentary on the Whole Bible: Vol. 6 (Hendrickson, 2006), 545.

3 Exposition of the Old & New Testaments: Vol. 9 (Baptist Standard Bearer, 2006), 49.

4 The MacArthur New Testament Commentary: Galatians (Moody, 1987), 163.

5 The MacArthur New Testament Commentary: Colossians & Philemon (Moody, 1992), 159.

Because God is immutable, his wisdom is also unchanging.

[God] is “only wise” perpetually. As the wisdom of man is got by ripeness of age, so it is lost by decay of years; it is got by instruction, and lost by dotage. The perfectest minds, when in the wane, have been darkened with folly: Nebuchadnezzar, that was wise for a man, became as foolish as a brute. But the Ancient of Days is an unchangeable possessor of prudence; his wisdom is a mirror of brightness, without a defacing spot. It was “possessed by him in the beginning of his ways, before his works of old” (Prov. viii. 22), and he can never be dispossessed of it in the end of his works. It is inseparable from him: the being of his Godhead may as soon cease as the beauty of his mind; “with him is wisdom” (Job xii. 13); it is inseparable from him; therefore, as durable as his essence. It is a wisdom infinite, and therefore without increase or decrease in itself. The experience of so many ages in the government of the world hath added nothing to the immensity of it, as the shining of the sun since the creation of the world hath added nothing to the light of that glorious body. As ignorance never darkens his knowledge, so folly never disgraces his prudence. God infatuates men, but neither men nor devils can infatuate God; he is unerringly wise; his counsel doth not vary and flatter; it is not one day one counsel, and another day another, but it stands like an immovable rock, or a mountain of brass. “The counsel of the Lord stands for ever, and the thoughts of his heart to all generations” (Ps. xxxiii. 11).

—Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God (Baker Books, 2005), 1:511–512.

A key characteristic of Puritan life was simplicity; and nowhere was that simplicity more intentional than in their formal worship. Leland Ryken comments on what that meant, as well as what it did not mean.

[T]he Puritans simplified church architecture and furnishings. They took images and statues out of churches. They replaced stone alters with communion tables. The multiroom floor plan became a single, rectangular room. The walls were painted white. The physical objects that would have caught one’s eye upon entering a puritan church were a high central pulpit with a winding stairway to it, a Bible on a cushion on a ledge of the pulpit, a communion table below the pulpit, and an inconspicuous baptismal font.
   All this simplicity should not be interpreted as an attempt to avoid symbolism. It was the symbol of Puritan worship, and it was a richly multiple symbol. Here in visual form was the Puritan aversion to idols and human intervention between God and people. Here was a sign of humility before God and His Word. Here was a sign of the essentially inward and spiritual nature of worship. Here was a reminder that God cannot be confined to earthly and human conceptions, that he is transcendent and sovereign. By calling their buildings “meeting houses,” moreover, Puritans stressed the domestic aspect of worship as a spiritual family meeting with their heavenly father.
   This triumph of simplicity was not necessarily unaesthetic. The simple is a form of beauty as well as the ornate. Horton Davis calls the simple beauty of Puritan church architecture “a study in black and white etching, rather than the colored and multi-textured appearances of Anglican . . . churches.” a study of Puritan vocabulary shows that “naked” was one of their positive words when applied to worship. In the Puritan Church, the individual worshiper stood “naked” before the light and purity of God’s word and presence. An authority on church architecture writes about Puritan churches, “Clean, well-lighted, they concentrated on the essentials of Puritan worship, the hearing of God’s Word, with no distractions.”

—Leland Ryken, Worldly Saints: The Puritans as They Really Were (Academie Books, 1986), 121–122.