[Two, too] bee [ore, oar, o’er] [knot, naught] [two, too] bee

Tube Eeyore naught two bee, that is the question:
Weather ’tis no blur inn the mined two suffer
Thus ling sand air rows of out rage us fortune,
O’er toot ache arms against a see of troubles,
And buy up posing end them? Too dye: two’s leap;
Know moor; and bias leap too seigh wee end
The hart ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is air two, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly too bee wish’d. Two dye, too sleep;
Two sleep: perchance too dream: eye, theirs the rub;
Four inn that sleep of death watt dreams may come
Wen wee halve shuffle doff this more tall coil,
Mussed give us paws: theirs the respect
That makes calamity of sew long life;
Fore who wood bare the whip sands corns of thyme,
The owe press oars wrong, the prowed manse con tomb lee,
The pangs of despised love, the laws delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That pay shunt mare it of the unworthy takes,
Wen he himself mite his quietus make
With a bear bawd kin? who wood far dells bare,
Too grunt and sweat under a weary life,
Butt that the dread of sum thing after death,
The undiscover’d con tree from who’s born
Know traveller returns, puzzles the will
And make suss rather bare though sills wee have
Than fly two others that wee no knot of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us awl;
And thus the native hew of resolution
Is sick lead oar with the pail caste of thought,
And enter prizes of grate pith and moment
With this regard they’re currants tern a rye,
And lose the name of action—Soft ewe now!
The fare Ophelia! Nymph, inn thigh orisons
Bee awl mice inns remember’d.

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

Petitionary Hymns
Poem XXI.
Augustus Toplady (1740–1778)

Chain’d to the world, to sin ty’d down,
   In darkness still I lie;
Lord, break my bonds, Lord give me wings,
   And teach me how to fly.

Instruct my feeble hands to war,
   In me thy strength reveal,
To put my ev’ry lust to death,
   And fight thy battles well.

Rend ev’ry veil that shades thy face,
   Put on thine helmet, Lord;
My sin shall fall, my guilt expire,
   Beneath thy conqu’ring sword.

Thou art the mighty God of hosts,
   Whose counsels never fail;
Be thou my glorious chief, and then
   I cannot but prevail.

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

John 6:60–65

Therefore many of His disciples, when they heard this said, “This is a difficult statement; who can listen to it?” 61 But Jesus, conscious that His disciples grumbled at this, said to them, “Does this cause you to stumble? 62 What then if you see the Son of Man ascending to where He was before? 63 It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh profits nothing; the words that I have spoken to you are spirit and are life. 64 But there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the beginning who they were who did not believe, and who it was that would betray Him. 65 And He was saying, “For this reason I have said to you, that no one can come to Me unless it has been granted him from the Father.”

We learn from these verses that some of Christ’s sayings seem hard to flesh and blood. We are told that “many” who had followed our Lord for a season, were offended when He spoke of “eating his flesh and drinking his blood.” They murmured and said, “This is an hard saying; who can hear it?”
   Murmurs and complaints of this kind are very common. It must never surprise us to hear them. They have been, they are, they will be as long as the world stands. To some Christ’s sayings appear hard to understand. To others, as in the present case, they appear hard to believe, and harder still to obey. It is just one of the many ways in which the natural corruption of man shows itself. So long as the heart is naturally proud, worldly, unbelieving, and fond of self-indulgence, if not of sin, so long there will never be lacking people who will say of Christian doctrines and precepts, “These are hard sayings; who can hear them?”
   Humility is the frame of mind which we should labour and pray for, if we would not be offended by scriptural teaching. If we find any of Christ’s sayings hard to understand, we should humbly remember our present ignorance, and believe that we shall know more by and bye. If we find any of His sayings difficult to obey, we should humbly recollect that He will never require of us impossibilities, and that what He bids us do, He will give us grace to perform.
   We learn, secondly, from these verses, that we must beware of putting a carnal meaning on spiritual words. We read that our Lord said to the murmuring Jews who stumbled at the idea of eating His flesh and drinking His blood, “It is the Spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are life.”
   It is useless to deny that this verse is full of difficulties. It contains expressions “hard to be understood.” It is far more easy to have a general impression of the meaning of the whole sentence, than to explain it word by word. Some things nevertheless we can see clearly and grasp firmly. Let us consider what they are.
   Our Lord says, “It is the Spirit that quickeneth.” By this He means that it is the Holy Ghost who is the special author of spiritual life in man’s soul. By His agency it is first imparted, and afterwards sustained and kept up. If the Jews thought He meant that man could have spiritual life by bodily eating or drinking, they were greatly mistaken.
   Our Lord says, “The flesh profiteth nothing.” By this He means that neither His flesh nor any other flesh, literally eaten, can do good to the soul. Spiritual benefit is not to be had through the mouth, but through the heart. The soul is not a material thing, and cannot therefore be nourished by material food.
   Our Lord says, “the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are life.” By this He signifies that His words and teachings, applied to the heart by the Holy Spirit, are the true means of producing spiritual influence and conveying spiritual life. By words thoughts are begotten and aroused. By words mind and conscience are stirred. And Christ’s words especially are spirit-stirring and life-giving.
   The principle contained in this verse, however faintly we may grasp its full meaning, deserves peculiar attention in these times. There is a tendency in many minds to attach an excessive importance to the outward and visible or “doing” part of religion. They seem to think that the sum and substance of Christianity consists in Baptism and the Supper of the Lord, in public ceremonies and forms, in appeals to the eye and ear and bodily excitement. Surely they forget that it is “the Spirit that quickeneth,” and that the “flesh profiteth nothing.” It is not so much by noisy public demonstrations, as by the still quiet work of the Holy Spirit on hearts that God’s cause prospers. It is Christ’s words entering into consciences, which “are spirit and life.”
   We learn, lastly, from these verses, that Christ has a perfect knowledge of the hearts of men. We read that “He knew from the beginning who they were that believed not, and who should betray him.”
   Sentences like this are found so frequently in the Gospels that we are apt to underrate their importance. Yet there are few truths which we shall find it so good for our souls to remember as that which is contained in the sentence before us. The Saviour with whom we have to do is one who knows all things!
   What light this throws on the marvelous patience of the Lord Jesus in the days of His earthly ministry! He knew the sorrow and humiliation before Him, and the manner of His death. He knew the unbelief and treachery of some who professed to be His familiar friends. But “for the joy that was set before Him” he endured it all. (Heb. xii. 2.)
   What light this throws on the folly of hypocrisy and false profession in religion! Let those who are guilty of it recollect that they cannot deceive Christ. He sees them, knows them, and will expose them at the last day, except they repent. Whatever we are as Christians, and however weak, let us be real, true, and sincere.
   Finally, what light this throws on the daily pilgrimage of all true Christians! Let them take comfort in the thought that their Master knows them. However much unknown and misunderstood by the world, their Master knows their hearts, and will comfort them at the last day. Happy is he who, in spite of many infirmities, can say with Peter: “Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.” (John xxi. 17.)

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

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

I am not a big believer in New Year’s resolutions, but last January I set a goal of reading fifty-two books, an average of one per week, in 2009. I didn’t quite make it. Militating against my goal — and providing a convenient excuse for falling short — were several fat volumes that I couldn’t, and didn’t want to, breeze through quickly. By December 1st, I was getting burned out, and made a new resolution: I would begin no more serious reading projects until January. And so I didn’t. You’ll see the only two books begun in December at the bottom of the list that follows; they are not what you’d call cerebrally taxing. You will also notice that I read a fair amount of fiction, including a couple of volumes that will probably earn me a few scowls from certain quarters. I offer no apologies. I enjoy select fiction, and pity you if you don’t. So there. Three of the books on the list are as yet unfinished. I have noted the page numbers for my own benefit, to give me an idea of how much I have actually read. It amounts to about forty pages, or (very roughly) 15–20,000 words per day; not an extremely large amount, really. While I have no intention of matching the voracious habits of Tim Challies, I hope to meet my goal of fifty-two in 2010. I might do it by reading more short books. Is that cheating? I suppose it is. Well, I’m beginning to ramble, so without further ado, I give you my list of books read in 2009, categorized and with some brief commentary.

Theology, Church History, &c.
1. F. F. Bruce, The Canon of Scripture— A good entry-level book on the formation of the canon. 349 pages.
2. David Wells, The Courage to Be Protestant— An excellent commentary on the state of the church today. 253 pages.
3. Voddie Baucham, What He Must Be if he wants to marry my daughter— I began this book expecting to either like it with reservations, or hate it. I expected to like it because I most definitely believe that courtship, as opposed to dating, is the biblical pattern for Christians. Furthermore, I believe the folly of dating is so obvious that even atheists who desire stable lives and marriages ought to be able to see how counterproductive the modern popular method of mate-catching is. My reservations, on the other hand, were due to my experience years ago with the Gothard cult. I am all too familiar with the ability of some to come oh-so-close to the truth before veering off into utter insanity. Thankfully, Baucham did not. In fact, to my great surprise, I didn’t disagree with him at all. If you have daughters and/or sons, you want this book. If there is anyone in your world at all whom you might influence in this area, you want this book. 216 pages.
4. Albert Mohler, Culture Shift: Engaging Current Issues with Timeless Truth— In addition to being an adept theologian and Bible expositor, Albert Mohler is also one of the most astute cultural commentators today; but you already knew that. 160 pages.
5. John Piper, God Is the Gospel— An absolutely wonderful book. I thought it a bit redundant, but excellent overall. Very highly recommended. 190 pages.
6. Leland Ryken, How to Read the Bible as Literature by Leland Ryken— If you have any interest in interpreting Scripture — and I hope you do — you will want to read this. Very interesting, easy reading, highly recommended. 208 pages.
7. Iain Murray, A Scottish Christian Heritage— Iain Murray makes my list of top three Christian authors. This book is another reason why. 403 pages.
8. Joel Beeke, Walking as He Walked— 133 pages.
9. Thabiti Anyabwile, The Faithful Preacher— Enlightening. Profiling three early American black pastors, this was a part of church history I hadn’t known existed. 191 pages.
10. J. I. Packer, Knowing God— A great basic-level book on a profound subject. If you haven’t read this classic, I hope you’ll put it on your list. 316 pages.
11. TMS Faculty, The Master’s Seminary Journal: Volume 19, Number 2 (Fall 2008)— I wouldn’t normally list a journal here, but then I don’t normally read journals from cover to cover. This issue was dedicated to a biblical view of homosexuality. Far from being overly academic and over the head of the average layman (as one might expect of a seminary journal), this issue was quite accessible even to a simpleton like me. If you don’t subscribe, I believe you can still order individual back-issues as long as they remain available by visiting the TMS Journal web page. Articles included are:
    • John MacArthur, “God’s Word on Homosexuality: The Truth about Sin and the Reality of Forgiveness”
    • Michael A. Grisanti, “Cultural and Medical Myths about Homosexuality”
    • Irvin A. Busenitz, “Marriage and Homosexuality: Toward a Biblical Understanding”
    • Richard L. Holland, “Parenting and Homosexuality”
    • Alex D. Montoya, “The Church's Response to Homosexuality”
12. R. C. Sproul, Scripture Alone— 210 pages.
13. Michael Horton, Christless Christianity— 270 pages.
14. Burk Parsons (editor), John Calvin: a Heart for Devotion, Doctrine, and Doxology— Not a biography, but an excellent portrait of the man’s character and applied theology. 257 pages.
15. William Whitaker, Disputations on the Holy Scriptures— Not a light, entertaining volume, but well worth the labor. Read it, and you should understand the fundamental difference between Roman Catholicism and Christianity, and why the Reformation was necessary and is still as relevant today as it was 500 years ago. 718 pages.
16. John MacArthur, Follow Me— A good little book to give young Christians/new believers. 107 pages.
17. Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God Volume One— My edition contains two volumes in one, but after completing the first, it was time to take a rest from such meaty fare. Not that it is overly difficult; it is simply extremely dense. Don’t let that put you off from reading it, though. It is much easier going than the Whitaker volume above, and in any case, we benefit from reading things too difficult for us. Our brains, like our muscles, must stretch and hurt in order to grow. 606 pages (volume 1).
18. Leland Ryken, Worldly Saints: The Puritans as They Really Were— Everything you think you know about the Puritans is wrong. 281 pages.
19. James Spurgeon, The Texas Baptist Crucible: Tales from the Temple— I had read this before, but a desire for something different one evening caused me to pick it up again. And this one is certainly “something different.” Spurgeon (no relation) gives a guided tour through the cult-like world of extreme independent fundamentalist Baptists. Read this book; you will laugh (a lot!), cry, be angry, but you will also see how, by the grace of God, a young man was delivered from his bondage. 284 pages.
20. Jerry Bridges, The Pursuit of Holiness— Another good book to give young Christians/new believers, or to read for yourself. 222 pages.
21. Steve Lawson, The Unwavering Resolve of Jonathan Edwards— An excellent introduction to Edwards. Like Lawson’s previous volume on Calvin, it is not really a biography, but more of a portrait of Edwards’ character and thought. 168 pages.
22. John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore— As usual, MacArthur does not beat around the bush. Like the title says: Jesus was very straight-forward about who he is, and only by willful rejection can his message be missed. 256 pages.
23. Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism— Another excellent number from Iain Murray and Banner of Truth, with a number of good lessons for orthodox Calvinists. 164 pages.
24. Donald S. Whitney, Ten Questions to Diagnose Your Spiritual Heath— Recommended for Christians of all ages. 112 pages.

History
25. Stephen Ambrose, D-Day June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II— Incredible! You must read this before observing another Memorial Day. 655 pages.
26. Martin Gilbert, The Second World War: A Complete History— Recommended to me by history maven and friend Tim Challies, this one-volume treatment of WWII (including a thick section of maps) gives an excellent overview of the war. My only complaint is that, in my inexpert opinion, the war in the Pacific could have been given more space. But then, Sir Martin is an Englishman (and Churchill’s biographer), so it’s understandable that his focus would be on Europe. 846 pages.
27. Hugh Sebag-Montefiore, Enigma: The Battle for the Code— Another WWII book, this one about the crucial work of the Allied code breakers. 422 pages.
28. Simon Baatz, For the Thrill of It: Leopold, Loeb, and the Murder That Shocked Jazz Age Chicago— A shocking, true story of justice mocked. The emasculation of the American justice system can be traced, at least in part, to this eighty-five-year-old miscarriage of justice. 560 pages.
29. Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness— As you might suspect, I had to completely ignore the author’s theology to find the benefit of this book. While I’m no authority on the subject, I think No Future is a fairly accurate account of events in post-apartheid South Africa. While I found it a quite interesting and educational read, I think 200 pages could have sufficed. 304 pages.

Fiction
30. Ian Fleming, Casino Royale— Early last year, I got caught in a debate over the fitness of Daniel Craig to be the new 007. I didn’t like him, still don’t. I’m a Sean Connery fan. However, a certain blogger who wishes to remain nameless assured me that, if I had read any of the novels, I would certainly see my error. Well, that cut me to the quick. I have long disdained those illiterates who see movies rather than read books, so I hurried to rectify the situation. I hunted down a used hardcover Casino Royale (the 1st Bond novel, and the setting of Craig’s 007 début). In the end, I must confess that Craig fit the part well enough, but not as well as Connery. I couldn’t picture either Moore or Brosnan in the part. It might interest you to know that 007, in this episode, never utters the phrase “vodka martini — shaken, not stirred.” He drinks mostly brandy and champagne — lots of Champaign. And he has a cocktail of his own invention that sounds suspiciously like something more likely to be drunk by a woman. All this is just to make an excuse for having read something so vapid. The novel itself was unremarkable in any way. Quite dull, really, but mercifully short. 187 pages.
31. George Orwell, Animal Farm— A parable of “redistributive justice” I hesitate to list this under fiction. 113 pages.
32. George Orwell, Ninteen Eighty-Four— Another work of nonfictional-fiction. As of 2008, with a dedicated White House email for reporting dissenters and school children being taught to sing praises to Big Brother the President, this classic seems less far-fetched than ever. 326 pages.
33. Tom Clancy, Red Storm Rising— A re-read of my favorite Clancy novel. 652 pages.
34. Michael Crichton, State of Fear— Read this book! send a copy to Al Gore! If you really dislike ignorant celebrities spouting off on their pet issues, parroting propaganda ginned up by “scientists,” this book has a treat in store for you on page 553. 603 pages.
35. G. Gordon Liddy, The Monkey Handlers— A good story, but poorly written. 338 pages.
36. Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express— My first reading of Agatha Christie. An engaging, enjoyable story, but the genre just doesn’t grab me enough to compel me to run out and get another. 295 pages.
37. Stephen King, Duma Key— Possibly King’s best so far, at least of the few I’ve read. 611 pages.
38. Lars Walker, West Oversea: A Norse Saga of Mystery, Adventure and Faith— Being a mighty Norseman myself, Viking lore attracts me. Lars Walker is an aficionado of Nordic history, and his knowledge of that history brings authenticity to his work. West Oversea is not all realism, however. It does include a few elements of fantasy and magic that I could have done without (Tolkien and Lewis bore be to death, so Mr. Larson shouldn’t feel bad). Nevertheless, I enjoyed it more than might be expected, considering my anti-fantasy predjudice. 277 pages.
39. Elizabeth Prentiss, The Little Preacher— Read this one with the kids. Everyone, including Dad, enjoyed it. Even the seventeen-year-old who feigned boredom secretly liked it. 175 pages.
40. Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol— Another one read with the kids. I love this book, even though Dickens’ Christmas is entirely secular, making Fred’s protest that Scrooge doesn’t “keep Christmas” ring hollow. 175 pages.
41. John Knowles, A Separate Peace— I saw this one as I was Christmas shopping this year and, remembering it as one of the few books assigned in high school that I actually enjoyed, picked it up and read it again, and enjoyed it again. 186 pages.
42. Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes— I know, a bit juvenile. Sometimes I just need a rest. This book, which I had not picked up since I first read it some thirty-plus years ago, fit the bill perfectly. If I tell you how much I enjoyed it, you’ll laugh at me; so I won’t. 392 pages.

Unfinished
43. J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels Volume 3, John 1–10— I am presently including the expository portion of this work in my Lord’s Day posts. I really can’t recommend it highly enough. Each chapter begins with a brief exposition of the text (averaging only about 1500 words, these would make an excellent step up from any daily devotional you might be reading), followed by several pages of commentary notes. Easy, enjoyable reading. 636 pages.
44. William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour— A must-read classic (and I rarely use that term). Bring your longest attention span. 1189 pages.
45. William L. Shirer, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich— If you want to understand the why of WWII, you really need to read this book. 1245 pages, small print!
46. Rick Warren, The Purpose Driven Life— Yikes. This book is old news, and I’ve already read the reviews, as well as several excerpts, so I already knew it was a bad book. I just didn’t really know how bad. How bad is it? really bad. “It’s not about you,” says Warren; then he proceeds to write a book all about you. Have I mentioned that this is a bad book? I haven’t decided if it’s as bad as The Prayer of Jabez. I think probably not, but that’s the best praise I can give it. Even at $1.50 from a second-hand store, I got took. I didn’t finish it, and, unlike the previous three, probably never will. 334 pages.
    

Our flesh is naturally self-centered. There is no good thing that Satan cannot use to tempt us, or that our flesh itself will not pervert for carnal use. We can, in our pride, take the best gifts of God, given to us for his glory and the edification of others, and make them our own servants. We do so to our own harm. William Gurnall wrote:

Pride of gifts robs us of God’s blessing in the use of them. The humble man may have Satan at his right hand to oppose him; but be sure the proud man shall find God himself there to resist him, whenever he goes about any duty. God proclaims so much, and would have the proud man know wherever he meets him [that] he will oppose him. He ‘resisteth the proud.’ Great gifts are beautiful as Rachel, but pride makes them also barren like her. Either we must lay self aside, or God will lay us aside.

—William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour (Banner of Truth Trust, 2002), 1:193.

Pithy statement of the day:

None can trust in the merits of Christ until they have renounced their own.

—John Wesley, quoted in Iain Murray, Wesley and Men Who Followed (Banner of Truth, 2003), 9.

After reading Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism, I’m shifting my attention to the other end of the soteriological spectrum in another historical volume by Iain Murray, Wesley and Men Who Followed.

I know relatively little about John Wesley. My impression of him, from the little I have read about him, is that he was an Arminian unlike most Arminians I have known, and certainly unlike I was. I am eager to see if my impression is correct. If the following account of an exchange between Wesley and pseudonymous critic “John Smith” is any indication, it is.

‘You seem to me,’ wrote ‘Smith’, ‘to contend with great earnestness for the following system, viz., that faith (instead of being a rational assent and a moral virtue for the attainment of which men ought to yield the utmost attention and industry) is altogether a divine and supernatural illapse from heaven, the immediate gift of God, the mere work of omnipotence.’ With obvious qualification, this was what Wesley believed; faith is supernatural, ‘wrought in us (be it swiftly or slowly) by the Spirit of God’. He replied to ‘Smith’:

Supposing a man be now void of faith and hope and love, he cannot effect any degree of them in himself by any possible exertion of his understanding, and of any or all of his other natural faculties, though he should enjoy them to the utmost perfection. A distinct power from God, not implied in any of these, is indispensably necessary before it is possible that he should arrive at the very last degree of Christian faith, or love, or hope. In order to his having any of these (on which very consideration I suppose St. Paul terms “the fruits of the Spirit”) he must be created anew, thoroughly and inwardly changed by the operation of the Spirit of God, by a power equivalent to that which raises the dead, and which calls the things that were not as though they were.’

—Iain Murray, Wesley and Men Who Followed (Banner of Truth, 2003), 32–33.

Our Fridays are dedicated to dishing out capitalist wisdom, to nurse us (U.S. Americans) through the present Marxist captivity of our beloved republic.

Milton Friedman explains how economic liberty works against discrimination:

It is a striking historical fact that the development of capitalism has been accompanied by a major reduction in the extent to which popular religious, racial, or social groups have . . . been discriminated against. The substitution of contract arrangements for status arrangements was the first step towards freeing the serfs in the Middle Ages. The preservation of Jews through the Middle Ages was possible because of the existence of a market sector in which they could operate and maintain themselves despite official persecution. Puritans and Quakers were able to migrate to the New World because they could accumulate the funds to do so despite disabilities imposed on them in other aspects of their life. The Southern States after the Civil War took many measures to impose legal restrictions on Negroes*. One measure which was never taken on any scale was the establishment of barriers to the ownership of either real or personal property. The failure to impose such barriers clearly did not reflect any special concern to avoid restrictions on Negroes. It reflected rather, a basic belief in private property which was so strong that it overrode the desire to discriminate against Negroes. The maintenance of the general laws of private property and of capitalism have been a major source of opportunity for Negroes and have permitted them to make greater progress than they otherwise could have made. To take a more general example, the preserves of discrimination in any society are the areas that are most monopolistic in character, whereas discrimination against groups of particular color or religion is least in those areas where there is the greatest freedom of competition.
. . . one of the paradoxes of experience is that, in spite of this historical evidence, it is precisely the minority groups that have frequently furnished the most vocal and most numerous advocates of fundamental alterations in a capitalist society. They have tended to attribute to capitalism the residual restrictions they experience rather than to recognize that the free market has been a major factor enabling these restrictions to be as small as they are.
. . . a free market separates economic efficiency from irrelevant characteristics. . . . the purchaser of bread does not know whether it was made from wheat grown by a white man or a Negro, a Christian or a Jew. In consequence, the producer of the wheat is in a position to use resources as effectively as he can, regardless of what the attitudes of the community may be against the color, the religion, or other characteristics of the people he hires. Furthermore, and perhaps more important, there is an economic incentive in a free market to separate economic efficiency from other characteristics of the individual. A business man or an entrepreneur who expresses preferences in his business activities that are not related to economic efficiency is at a disadvantage compared to other individuals who do not. Such an individual is in effect imposing higher costs on himself than are other individuals who do not have such preferences. Hence, in a free market they will tend to drive him out.
   This same phenomenon is of much wider scope. It is often taken for granted that the person who discriminates against others because of their race, religion, color, or whatever, incurs no cost by doing so but simply imposes costs on others. This view is on a par with a very similar fallacy that a country does not hurt itself by imposing tariffs on the products of other countries. Both are equally wrong. The man who objects to buying from or working alongside a Negro, for example, thereby limits his range of choice. He will generally have to pay a higher price for what he buys or receive a lower return for his work. Or, put the other way, those of us who regard color of skin or religion as irrelevant can buy some things more cheaply as a result.
   As these comments perhaps suggest, there are real problems in defining and interpreting discrimination. The man who exercises discrimination pays a price for doing so. He is, as it were, “buying” what he regards as a “product”. It is hard to see that discrimination can have any meaning other than a “taste” of others that one does not share. We do not regard it a “discrimination”— or at least not in the same invidious sense — if an individual is willing to pay a higher price to listen to one singer than another, although we do if he is willing to pay a higher price to have services rendered to him by a person of one color than a person of another. The difference between the two cases is that in the one case we share the taste, and in the other case we do not. Is there any difference in principle between the taste that leads a householder to prefer an attractive servant to an ugly one and the taste that leads another to prefer a Negro to a white or a white to a Negro, except that we sympathize and agree with one taste and may not with the other? I do not mean to say that all tastes are equally good. On the contrary, I believe strongly that the color of a man’s skin or the religion of his parents is, by itself, no reason to treat him differently; that a man should be judged by what he is and what he does and not by any f these external characteristics. I deplore what seem to me a prejudice and narrowness of outlook of those whose tastes differ from mine in this respect and I think the less of them for it. But in a society based on free discussion, the appropriate recourse is for me to seek to persuade them that their tastes are bad and that they should change their views and their behavior, not to use coercive power to enforce my tastes and my attitudes on others.

—Milton Friedman, Capitalism and Freedom (The University of Chicago Press, 2002), 108–111.

* I know this word may offend some. Realize, though, that these lectures were given in 1956, when “negro” was the vernacular term used by black and white alike.

Cigarette ads on television, if you remember them at all, are a dim memory for most of us, having been banned from television in 1970. So I was surprised to learn recently that when The Flintstones first appeared in 1960, the show was sponsored by Winston cigarettes.

I have mixed emotions about these ads. I’m not sorry that the ads are gone, especially from a program aimed primarily at children. I am sorry for the loss of liberty to broadcast them. In any case, whether or not I should, I get a kick out of seeing them.

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

The Spiritual Warfare
Samuel Davies (1723–1761)

Arm thee in panoply divine,
My soul, and fired with courage rise;
A thousand enemies combine
To obstruct thy progress to the skies.

Infernal darts perpetual fly
And scatter various deaths around;
Around thee thousands daily die
And none escape without a wound.

The world presents her tempting charms,
And wears the aspect of a friend,
Yet, ah, she carries deadly arms,
And all her smiles in ruin end.

But, oh, the flesh, that latent foe,
That treacherous enemy in my breast!
’Tis hence proceeds my overthrow,
And hence I’m conquered by the rest.

Through troops of potent enemies,
Through hostile snares and fields of blood,
If I expect the glorious prize,
I must pursue my dangerous road.

But, ah, how can a feeble worm
Obtain so hard a victory?
Alas, I perish in the storm,
And helpless fall, and bleed, and die.

The glorious prize stands in view,
But deaths and dangers stop my way;
Thou glorious prize! Adieu, adieu!
Here, cruel foes! Come size your prey.

But hark, an animating voice,
Majestic breaks from the upper sky,
Courage, frail worm! Live and rejoice,
I have procured the victory.

“Suspended on the accursed tree,
I crushed the might of all thy foes,
Dying, I spoiled their tyranny,
And triumphed over them when I rose.

“This arm that props the universe,
And holds up natures tottering frame,
Can all surrounding harms disperse,
And safe protect the feeblest name.

“The captain of salvation deigns
To lead the van, and guard thy way;
And since thy conquering Leader reigns,
The infernal powers shall miss their prey.

“In me confide; from me derive
Courage and strength to keep the field;
In crowds of death then thou shalt live,
And all thy foes shall stubborn yield.

“The Spirit’s sword victorious yield,
And steel thy breast with righteousness;
Let faith be thy triumphant shield;
Thy helmet, hope of heav’nly bliss.

“See in my hands the glorious prize;
This crown the conqueror shall wear.
Rise then with dauntless courage rise,
And bid adieu to every fear.

“Though sharp the conflict, ’tis but short;
Victr’y with active wings draws nigh.
And my brave soldiers, all unhurt,
Ere long shall triumph in the sky.”

Blessed Jesus, with martial zeal,
I arm, and rush into the fight;
And through my weakness still I feel,
I am almighty in thy might.

Thy gracious Words my heart inspire
With generous zeal for noble deeds;
Let hell and all her hosts appear,
My soul, undaunted, now proceeds.

Satan, affrighted at Thy frown,
Retreats, despairing of his prey;
And all the flatteries earth has shown,
In vain their treacherous charms display.

The flesh, subdued by grace divine,
No more shall triumph o’er the man.
Now, glorious prize, I call thee mine,
Though earth and hell do all they can.

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

John 6:66–71

Confession by Peter

As a result of this many of His disciples withdrew and were not walking with Him anymore. 67 So Jesus said to the twelve, “You do not want to go away also, do you?” 68 Simon Peter answered Him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life. 69 We have believed and have come to know that You are the Holy One of God.” 70 Jesus answered them, “Did I Myself not choose you, the twelve, and yet one of you is a devil?” 71 Now He meant Judas the son of Simon Iscariot, for he, one of the twelve, was going to betray Him.

These verses form a sorrowful conclusion to the famous discourse of Christ which occupies the greater part of the sixth chapter. They supply a melancholy proof of the hardness and corruption of man’s heart. Even when the Son of God was the preacher, many seem to have heard in vain.
   Let us mark in this passage what an old sin backsliding is. We read that when our Lord had explained what He meant by “eating and drinking his flesh and blood,”—“From that time, many went back and walked no more with him.”
   The true grace of God no doubt is an everlasting possession. From this men never fall away entirely, when they have once received it. “The foundation of God standeth sure.” “My sheep shall never perish.” (2 Tim. ii. 19; John x. 28.) But there is counterfeit grace and unreal religion in the Church, wherever there is true; and from counterfeit grace thousands may, and do, fall away. Like the stony ground hearers, in the parable of the sower, many “have no root in themselves, and so in time of trial fall away.” All is not gold that glitters. All blossoms do not come to fruit. All are not Israel which are called Israel. Men may have feelings, desires, convictions, resolutions, hopes, joys, sorrows in religion, and yet never have the grace of God. They may run well for a season, and bid fair to reach heaven, and yet break down entirely after a time, go back to the world, and end like Demas, Judas Iscariot, and Lot’s wife.
   It must never surprise us to see and hear of such cases in our own days. If it happened in our Lord’s time and under our Lord’s teaching, much more may we expect it to happen now. Above all, it must never shake our faith and discourage us in our course. On the contrary, we must make up our minds that there will be backsliders in the Church as long as the world stands. The sneering infidel, who defends his unbelief by pointing at them, must find some better argument than their example. He forgets that there will always be counterfeit coin where there is true money.
   Let us mark, secondly, in this passage, the noble declaration of faith which the Apostle Peter made. Our Lord had said to the twelve, when many went back, “Will ye also go away?” At once Peter replied, with characteristic zeal and fervor, “Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. And we believe and art sure that thou art that Christ, the Son of the living God.”
   The confession contained in these words is a very remarkable one. Living in a professedly Christian land, and surrounded by Christian privileges; we can hardly form an adequate idea of its real value. For a humble Jew to say of one whom Scribes, and Pharisees, and Sadducees agreed in rejecting, “Thou hast the words of eternal life; thou art the Christ,” was an act of mighty faith. No wonder that our Lord said, in another place, “Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is heaven.” (Matt. xvi. 17.)
   But the question with which Peter begins, is just as remarkable as his confession. “To whom shall we go?” said the noble-hearted Apostle. “Whom shall we follow? To what teacher shall we betake ourselves? Where shall we find any guide to heaven to compare with thee? What shall we gain by forsaking thee? What Scribe, what Pharisee, what Sadducee, what Priest, what Rabbi can show us such words of eternal life as thou showest?”
   The question is one which every true Christian may boldly ask, when urged and tempted to give up his religion, and go back to the world. It is easy for those who hate religion to pick holes in our conduct, to make objections to our doctrines, to find fault with our practices. It may be hard sometimes to give them any answer. But after all, “To whom shall we go,” if we give up our religion? Where shall we find such peace, and hope, and solid comfort as in serving Christ, however poorly we serve Him? Can we better ourselves by turning our back on Christ, and going back to our old ways? We cannot. Then let us hold on our way and persevere.
   Let us mark, lastly, in this passage, what little benefit some men get from religious privileges. We read that our Lord said, “Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil.” And it goes on, “He spoke of Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon.”
   If ever there was a man who had great privileges and opportunities, that man was Judas Iscariot. A chosen disciple, a constant companion of Christ, a witness of His miracles, a hearer of His sermons, a commissioned preacher of His kingdom, a fellow and friend of Peter, James, and John,—it would be impossible to imagine a more favourable position for a man’s soul. Yet if anyone ever fell hopelessly into hell, and made shipwreck at last for eternity, that man was Judas Iscariot. The character of that man must have been black indeed, of whom our Lord could say he is “a devil.”
   Let us settle it firmly in our minds, that the possession of religious privileges alone is not enough to save our souls. It is neither place, nor light, nor company, nor opportunities, but grace that man needs to make him a Christian. With grace we may serve God in the most difficult position,—like Daniel in Babylon, Obadiah in Ahab’s court, and the saints in Nero’s household. Without grace we may live in the full sunshine of Christ’s countenance, and yet, like Judas, be miserably cast away. Then let us never rest until we have grace reigning in our souls. Grace is to be had for the asking. There is One sitting at the right hand of God who has said,—“Ask, and it shall be given you.” (Matt. vii. 7.) The Lord Jesus is more willing to give grace than man is to seek it. If men have it not, it is because they do not ask it.

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

A friend and I were discussing the difficulty of teaching Christian disciplines, i.e. discipleship, without creating a to-do list that becomes an end in itself. My friend was struggling with this, and I was attempting to offer something resembling a biblical approach. I’m afraid my input was rather muddled, because this really is a dilemma; and I don’t think I’ve solved it yet.

Our problem is that we are all legalists at heart, and are most happy when we feel like we are doing good. It is, therefore, quite natural for us to compile lists of rules and disciplines, and then to judge our spiritual condition according to our degree of success in adhering to those disciplines. The discipline becomes the goal.

Or perhaps we view discipline as a means to an end. If certain practices are diligently observed, the result, we believe, will be spiritual growth, greater holiness, etc. This is where things get sticky, because unlike the philosophy presented in the previous paragraph, this view contains truth. There are certain activities without which we cannot hope to grow, or even live: reading and meditating on Scripture, for example. Without them we will die spiritually. So in a sense, we do these things to live.

If asked you why you read the Bible and pray, you might give an answer pertaining to your need to do so, as well as the benefits you expect for doing so. But what if I asked you why you breathe? How would you answer?

“I know that if I don’t breathe, I will die; so I have chosen to breathe, and discipline myself to inhale 12–20 times per minute, or more, if I’m exerting myself.”

Of course, you would give no such answer. While it is true that you would die if you stopped breathing, you have made no decision to breathe. Living things breathe. You don’t breathe to live, you breathe because you are alive.

Now . . . you make the application.

Our weekly installment from Gurnall reminds us where our treasure lies.

The chief prize for which we wrestle against Satan is heavenly. Or thus, Satan’s main design is to spoil and plunder the Christian of all that is heavenly. Indeed, all the Christian hath, or desires as a Christian, is heavenly. The world is extrinsical, both to his being and happiness, it is a stranger to the Christian, and intermeddles not with his joy or grief. Heap all the riches and honours of the world upon a man, they will not make him a Christian; heap them on a Christian, they will not make him a better Christian. Again, take them all away . . . when stripped and naked, he will still be a Christian, and may be a better Christian. . . . Satan should do the saint little hurt, if he did bend his forces only or chiefly against his outward enjoyments. Alas, the Christian doth not value them, or himself by them; this were as if one should think to hurt a man by beating of his clothes when he hath put them off. So far as the Spirit of grace prevails in the heart of a saint, he hath put off the world in the desire of it and joy in it, so that these blows are not much felt; and therefore they are his heavenly treasures, which are the booty Satan waits for.

—William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour (Banner of Truth Trust, 2002), 1:214.

John Wesley claimed to be “a man of one book.” Nevertheless, his system of thought, which became Methodism, was clearly molded by extra-biblical influences. Murray names these as “High Church divinity, Christian mysticism, and Moravian evangelicalism,” and adds, “It would be a mistake to suppose that the influence of the first two ended when he embraced the third.”

   High church thinking remained with him in more than one area. On baptism, for instance, he continued to believe that a decisive change occurs when a child receives the sacrament. Before that event original sin operates in its full power in all the sons of Adam, but in baptism the merit of Christ’s death begins to be applied to all and there is a general giving of the Holy Spirit sufficient to enable a response to the gospel. This was his teaching on ‘prevenient grace’. He also believed that the Lord’s Supper could be viewed as a means of conversion. His ‘High’ beliefs about the sacraments likewise may have entered into his readiness to allow unordained preachers to expound Scripture, whereas they were not to baptize or to administer the Lord’s Supper.
   From this same High Church came what can only be called a form of ‘asceticism’ which remained in Wesley’s thinking. High Church and mystical writers majored on self-denial. Certainly, self-denial is a Christian duty, and it was to contribute largely to the spirituality and vigour which would characterize Methodists. In Wesley, however, it could pass into asceticism, not simply in such things as early rising and abstinence from tea-drinking but, more seriously, in his whole view of marriage. To a young preacher who nearly fell into matrimony he could write, ‘I congratulate you on your deliverance . . . remember the wise direction of à Kempis, “Avoid good women, and commend them to God.”’ . . . [Wesley’s own] marriage was a disaster. This might have been the case whoever he had married, given his estimation that celibacy remained a higher state, and that marrying for happiness was somehow beneath a Christian: ‘I married because I needed a home’, he tells a correspondent, ‘in order to recover my health; and I did recover it. But I did not seek happiness thereby, and I did not find it.’ Who can be surprised?
   . . .
   Asceticism is not a charge which Wesley would have recognized, but there was another strand in his thinking that he willingly attributed to his early reading of High Church authors and the mystics. This was his teaching on ‘Christian perfection’ . . . in its final form his teaching, in brief, was that the mature or ‘perfect’ Christian . . . can attain to loving God with heart and soul and strength before death, and so overcome all inbred sin that sinning may be said to have ceased. To describe this attainment he used several terms, ‘full sanctification’, ‘pure love’, ‘Christian perfection’, and less commonly, the ‘second blessing’. This condition might be received by faith in an instant. ‘Full deliverance from sin, I believe, is always instantaneous.’ . . .
   . . . it is no conjecture to believe that Wesley’s ‘evidence’ for the opinion rested quite as much upon alleged experiences as upon any interpretation of Scripture . . . although Wesley criticized the mystic writers with the words, ‘each of them makes his own experience the standard of religion’, a propensity to depend on experience as a guide to truth also remained with him. For example, to support his assertion, given above, that full deliverance from sin, I believe, is always instantaneous’, he adds, ‘at least, I never yet knew an exception.’

—Iain Murray, Wesley and Men Who Followed (Banner of Truth, 2003), 44–48.

In a Previous post on Wesley and Men Who Followed, I offered my impression of John Wesley as “an Arminian unlike most Arminians I have known.” The “men who followed” seem to fit that description as well. Among those men was William Bramwell (1759–1818). Bramwell was zealous for the purity of the church, and lamented the fact that, in some instances, individuals were being received into membership without having proven the genuineness of their conversion. He deplored such lack of discipline, and avoided practices which might encourage false professions of faith.

   In regard to seekers and the distressed there is a significant difference between Bramwell’s practice and that of a later generation. Whereas he would sometimes invite the awakened and the concerned to meet with him separately for spiritual advice, there is no record of his calling people to meet at the communion rail or ‘the penitent’s bench’ at the end of a service. When the latter practice was first adopted by the Methodists it was only as a means to make counseling more easy and immediately available; but this was to prove a half-way to the practice of making coming to the front necessary for securing immediate professions of conversion. When that final stage came, the prevailing understanding of evangelism was very different from that of Bramwell’s generation. And the final development encouraged the very danger of a premature profession that the earlier generation had tried to avoid. Bramwell’s generation wanted to see repentance resulting in a changed life before they accepted any Christian profession.

—Iain Murray, Wesley and Men Who Followed (Banner of Truth, 2003), 124–125.

Our Fridays are dedicated to dishing out capitalist wisdom, to nurse us (U.S. Americans) through the present Marxist captivity of our beloved republic.

In a chapter on monopolies, Milton Friedman devotes a section to labor unions and their attempt to monopolize labor. The following excerpt discusses the actual effect of unions on wages:

There is a . . . tendency to overestimate the importance of monopoly on the side of labor. Labor unions include roughly a quarter of the working population and this greatly overestimates the importance of unions in the structure of wages. Many unions are utterly ineffective. Even the strong and powerful unions have only a limited effect on the wage structure. It is even clearer for labor than for industry why there is a strong tendency to overestimate the importance of monopoly. Given a labor union, any wage increase will come through the union, even though it may not be a consequence of the union organization. The wages of domestic servants have risen very greatly in recent years.* Had there been a union of domestic servants, the increase would have come through the union and would have been attributed to it.
   This is not to say that unions are unimportant. Like enterprise monopoly, they play a significant and meaningful role making many wage rates different from what the market alone would establish. It would be as much a mistake to underestimate as to overestimate their importance. I once made a rough estimate that because of unions something like 10 to 15 per cent of the working population has had its wage rates raised by something like 10 to 15 per cent. This means that something like 85 or 90 per cent of the working population has had its wage rates reduced by some 4 per cent. Since I made these estimates, much more detailed studies have been made by others. My impression is that they yield results of much the same order of magnitude.
   If unions raise wage rates in a particular occupation or industry, they necessarily make the amount of employment available in that occupation or industry less than it otherwise would be — just as any higher price cuts down the amount purchased. The effect is an increased number of persons seeking other jobs, which force down wages in other occupations. Since unions have generally strongest among groups that would have been high-paid anyway, their effect has been to make high paid workers higher paid at the expense of lower-paid workers. Unions have therefore not only harmed the public at large and workers as a whole by distorting the use of labor; they have also made the incomes of the working class more unequal by reducing the opportunities available to the most disadvantaged workers.

—Milton Friedman, Capitalism and Freedom (The University of Chicago Press, 2002), 123–124.

* “Recent” relative to 1956.

A Curmudgeon’s Rant for the New Year
or, Linguistic Perversions the New Year Can Do Without
or, Linguistic Perversions without Which the New Year Can Do
or, Why Do You Hate the English Language?
or, Shut up before I rip your tongue out!

so i was like thinking about stuff that really annoys me or whatever, and I was like, wow. just, wow. people today are like so inarticulate. it’s like . . . yeah. i mean, what part of you sound like an illiterate boob don’t you understand? i’m listening, and i’m like, whoa, dude! is english your first language or . . . yeah. the abuse of language totally sickens me. it’s like, i think i just threw up in my mouth a little. it literally turns me inside out. just. stop. it. now. i get up and from the get-go, it’s like, twenty-four-seven, all i hear is like, whatever, you know? these dudes think they sound cool, but at the end of the day,

<span style="language: english;">people like me no longer take them seriously or are interested in whatever it is they want to say. </span>

and by the way: “fail” is a verb. just sayin’.

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

Strength by the Way
Horatius Bonar (1808–1889)

Jesus, while this rough desert-soil
   I tread, be Thou my guide and stay;
Nerve me for conflict and for toil;
   Uphold me on my stranger-way.

Jesus, in heaviness and fear,
   ’Mid cloud, and shade, and gloom I stray
For earth's last night is drawing near;
   O cheer me on my stranger-way.

Jesus, in solitude and grief,
   When sun and stars withhold their ray,
Make haste, make haste to my relief;
   O light me on my stranger-way.

Jesus, in weakness of this flesh,
   When Satan grasps me for his prey;
O give me victory afresh;
   And speed me on my stranger-way.

Jesus, my righteousness and strength,
   My more than life, my more than day;
Bring, bring deliverance at length;
   O come and end my stranger-way.

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

The Gospel According to John

Christ’s Brothers Do Not Believe

7 After these things Jesus was walking in Galilee, for He was unwilling to walk in Judea because the Jews were seeking to kill Him. 2 Now the feast of the Jews, the Feast of Booths, was near. 3 Therefore His brothers said to Him, “Leave here and go into Judea, so that Your disciples also may see Your works which You are doing. 4 For no one does anything in secret when he himself seeks to be known publicly. If You do these things, show Yourself to the world.” 5 For not even His brothers were believing in Him. 6 So Jesus said to them, “My time is not yet here, but your time is always opportune. 7 The world cannot hate you, but it hates Me because I testify of it, that its deeds are evil. 8 Go up to the feast yourselves; I do not go up to this feast because My time has not yet fully come.” 9 Having said these things to them, He stayed in Galilee.

Christ Secretly Goes to the Feast

The chapter we now begin is divided from the preceding one by a wide interval of time. The many miracles which our Lord wrought, while He “walked in Galilee,” are passed over by St. John in comparative silence. The events which he was specially inspired to record are those which took place in or near Jerusalem.
   We should observe in this passage the desperate hardness and unbelief of human nature. We are told that even our Lord’s “brethren did not believe in Him.” Holy and harmless and blameless as He was in life, some of his nearest relatives, according to the flesh, did not receive Him as the Messiah. It was bad enough that His own people, “the Jews sought to kill Him.” But it was even worse that “His brethren did not believe.”
   That great Scriptural doctrine, man’s need of preventing and converting grace, stands out here, as if written with a sunbeam. It becomes all who question that doctrine to look at this passage and consider. Let them observe that seeing Christ’s miracles, hearing Christ’s teaching, living in Christ’s own company, were not enough to make men believers. The mere possession of spiritual privileges never yet made any one a Christian. All is useless without the effectual and applying work of God the Holy Ghost. No wonder that our Lord said in another place, “No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him.” (John vi. 44.)
   The true servants of Christ in every age will do well to remember this. They are often surprised and troubled to find that in religion they stand alone. They are apt to fancy that it must be their own fault that all around them are not converted like themselves. They are ready to blame themselves because their families remain worldly and unbelieving. But let them look at the verse before us. In our Lord Jesus Christ there was no fault either in temper, word, or deed. Yet even Christ’s own “brethren did not believe in Him.”
   Our blessed Master has truly learned by experience how to sympathize with all his people who stand alone. This is a thought “full of sweet, pleasant, and unspeakable comfort.” He knows the heart of every isolated believer, and can be touched with the feeling of his trials. He has drunk this bitter cup. He has passed through this fire. Let all who are fainting and cast down, because brothers and sisters despise their religion, turn to Christ for comfort, and pour out their hearts before Him. He “has suffered Himself being tempted” in this way, and He can help as well as feel. (Heb. ii. 18.)
   We should observe, for another thing, in this passage, one principal reason why many hate Christ. We are told that our Lord said to His unbelieving brethren, “The world cannot hate you; but me it hateth, because I testify of it, that the works thereof are evil.”
   These words reveal one of those secret principles which influence men in their treatment of Christ. They help to explain that deadly enmity with which many during our Lord’s earthly ministry regarded Him and His Gospel. It was not so much the high doctrines which He preached, as the high standard of practice which He proclaimed, which gave offence. It was not even His claim to be received the Messiah which men disliked so much, as His witness against the wickedness of their lives. In short, they could have tolerated His opinions if He would only have spared their sins.
   The principle, we may be sure, is one of universal application. It is at work now just as much as it was eighteen hundred years ago. The real cause of many people’s dislike to the Gospel is the holiness of living which it demands. Teach abstract doctrines only, and few will find any fault. Denounce the fashionable sins of the day, and call on men to repent and walk consistently with God, and thousands at once will be offended. The true reason why many profess to be infidels, and abuse Christianity, is the witness that Christianity bears against their own bad lives.—Like Ahab, they hate it, “because it does not prophesy good concerning them, but evil.” (1 Kings xxii. 8.)
   We should observe, lastly, in this passage, the strange variety of opinions about Christ, which were current from the beginning. We are told that “there was much murmuring among the people concerning him: for some said, He is a good man others said, Nay, but he deceiveth the people.” The words which old Simeon had spoken thirty years before were here accomplished in a striking manner. He had said to our Lord’s mother, “This child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel: and for a sign which shall be spoken against;—that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.” (Luke ii. 34, 35.) In the diversities of opinion about our Lord which arose among the Jews, we see the good old man’s saying fulfilled.
   In the face of such a passage as this, the endless differences and divisions about religion, which we see on all sides, in the present day, ought never to surprise us. The open hatred of some toward Christ,—the carping, fault-finding, prejudiced spirit of others,—the bold confession of the few faithful ones,—the timid, man-fearing temperament of the many faithless ones,—the unceasing war of words and strife of tongues with which the Churches of Christ are so sadly familiar,—are only modern symptoms of an old disease. Such is the corruption of human nature, that Christ is the cause of division among men, wherever He is preached. So long as the world stands, some, when they hear of Him, will love, and some will hate,—some will believe, and some will believe not. That deep, prophetical saying of His will be continually verified: “Do not think that I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword.” (Matt. x. 34.)
   What do we think of Christ ourselves? This is the one question with which we have to do. Let us never be ashamed to be of that little number who believe on Him, hear His voice, follow Him, and confess Him before men. While others waste their time in vain jangling and unprofitable controversy, let us take up the cross and give all diligence to make our calling and election sure. The children of this world may hate us, as it hated our Master, because our religion is a standing witness against them. But the last day will show that we chose wisely, lost nothing, and gained a crown of glory that fadeth not away.

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

At the beginning of last year, I set an ambitious (for me) goal of reading fifty-two books by year’s end. I also had a plan for how my reading would be distributed among various topics. As already reported, I fell short of the fifty-two. I also let slide my topical regimen. This year, I renewed my intention to average one book per week, but until last week had given no thought to any specific areas of study (other than continuing through The Christian in Complete Armour). Since I’m already going through J. C. Ryle on John’s Gospel on Sundays, I’ve decided to make that a focal point for the year, reading everything I’ve got on that gospel; and I’ve got plenty. My reading list on John so far includes:

• John Calvin
• Matthew Henry
• John Gill
• F. F. Bruce
• R. C. Sproul
• John MacArthur
• Robert Reymond
• Mark Dever

I’m no Greek scholar, but I’ll also be perusing A. T. Robertson’s Word Pictures in the New Testament to see what I can glean from that.

I expect I’ll read The Gospel According to John itself several times in the process. If you have any suggestions to offer for further reading on John, now is the time.

William Gurnall reminds us that now is not the time to expect our best life.

The Christian’s hopes are all heavenly; he lots not upon anything the world hath to give him. Indeed he would think himself the most miserable man of all others, if here were all he could make of his religion. No, it is heaven and eternal life that he expects; and though he be so poor as not to be able to make a will of a groat, yet he counts himself a greater heir, than if he were child to the greatest prince on earth. This inheritance he sees by faith, and can rejoice in the hope of the glory which it will bring him. The maskery and cheating glory of the great ones of this world moves him not to envy their fanciful pomp; but when on the dunghill himself, he can forget his own present sorrows, to pity them in all their bravery, knowing that within a few days the cross will be off his back, and the crowns off their heads together—their portion will be spent, when he shall be to receive all his. These things entertain him with such joy that they will not suffer him to acknowledge himself miserable, when others think him, and the devil tells him, he is such.

—William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour (Banner of Truth Trust, 2002), 1:216–217.

When John Wesley arrived in Ireland, he discovered a situation similar to ours in the United States. Substitute “secular humanist” for “Roman Catholic,” and “evangelical” for “protestant,” and see if you don’t agree.

[Wesley] described his first contacts in Dublin as people who exceeded all he knew for their ‘sweetness of temper, courtesy and hospitality,’ but they were ‘English transplanted into another soil.’ They belonged to the Protestant establishment and it was from their number that the members of his first Society in Dublin came. Noticeably absent from the Society were the native Irish-speaking people, of whom Wesley said, ‘At least ninety-nine in a hundred remain in the religion of their forefathers.’ For this sullen majority he had genuine sympathy and regarded it as no surprise that they should live and die as Roman Catholics ‘when the protestants can find no better ways to convert them than penal laws and act of parliament’.

—Iain Murray, Wesley and Men Who Followed (Banner of Truth, 2003), 139.

Among the early Methodists used by God to cultivate the hard ground of Catholic Ireland was Gideon Ouseley (1762–1839). Ousely serves as an example to those of us who would, because we lack great abilities or knowledge, do nothing. Iain Murray writes:

In a lonely part of Ireland [Ouseley] acted simply because he was constrained to do so. In some respects he lacked the knowledge that was needed, and he was aware of it, but when the lack prompted him to stay silent other thoughts compelled him. He would say to himself, ‘Do you not know the disease? And do you not know the cure?’ And his conclusion had a divine authority about it, ‘go then and tell them these two things, the disease and the cure; never mind the rest.’

—Iain Murray, Wesley and Men Who Followed (Banner of Truth, 2003), 166–167.

. . . and fifty million dead babies.

The President says his “health care” legislation has “had a little buzz saw this week.” Ignoring the nonsensical nature of that phrase, I wonder if he even knows what a buzz saw is.

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

The ‘Nevers’ of the Gospel

O Lord,

May I never fail to come to the knowledge
      of the truth,
   never rest in a system of doctrine, however
      scriptural, that does not bring or further
         salvation,
      or teach me to deny ungodliness and
         worldly lusts,
      or help me live soberly, righteously, godly;
   never rely on my own convictions and resolutions,
      but be strong in thee and in thy might;
   never cease to find thy grace sufficient
      in all my duties, trials, and conflicts;
   never forget to repair to thee
      in all my spiritual distresses and outward
         troubles,
      in all the dissatisfactions experienced in
         creature comforts;
   never fail to retreat to him who is full of grace
      and truth, the friend that loveth at all times,
      who is touched with feelings of my infirmities,
      and can do exceedingly abundantly for me;
   never confine my religion to extraordinary
      occasions, but acknowledge thee in all my ways;
   never limit my devotions to particular seasons
      but be in they fear all the day long;
   never be godly only on the Sabbath,
      or in thy house, but on every day abroad
         and at home;
   never make piety a dress but a habit,
      not only a habit but a nature,
      not only a nature but a life.
Do good to me in all thy dispensations,
   by all means of grace,
   by worship, prayers, praises,
And at last let me enter that world where is
   no temple, but only thy glory
   and the Lamb’s.

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

John 7:14–24

Christ’s Authority from the Father

But when it was now the midst of the feast Jesus went up into the temple, and began to teach. 15 The Jews then were astonished, saying, “How has this man become learned, having never been educated?” 16 So Jesus answered them and said, “My teaching is not Mine, but His who sent Me. 17 If anyone is willing to do His will, he will know of the teaching, whether it is of God or whether I speak from Myself. 18 He who speaks from himself seeks his own glory; but He who is seeking the glory of the One who sent Him, He is true, and there is no unrighteousness in Him.
   19 Did not Moses give you the Law, and yet none of you carries out the Law? Why do you seek to kill Me?” 20 The crowd answered, “You have a demon! Who seeks to kill You?” 21 Jesus answered them, “I did one deed, and you all marvel. 22 For this reason Moses has given you circumcision (not because it is from Moses, but from the fathers), and on the Sabbath you circumcise a man. 23 If a man receives circumcision on the Sabbath so that the Law of Moses will not be broken, are you angry with Me because I made an entire man well on the Sabbath? 24 Do not judge according to appearance, but judge with righteous judgment.”

We learn first in this passage, that honest obedience to God’s will is one way to obtain clear spiritual knowledge. Our Lord says, “If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.”
   The difficulty of finding out “what is truth” in religion is a common subject of complaint among men. They point to the many differences which prevail among Christians on matters of doctrine, and profess to be unable to decide who is right. In thousands of cases this professed inability to find out truth becomes an excuse for living without any religion at all.
   The saying of our Lord before us is one that demands the serious attention of people in this state of mind. It supplies an argument whose edge and point they will find it hard to evade. It teaches that one secret of getting the key of knowledge is to practice honestly what we know, and that if we conscientiously use the light that we now have, we shall soon find more light coming down into our minds.—In short, there is a sense in which it is true, that by doing we shall come to knowing.
   There is a mine of truth in this principle. Well would it be for men if they would act upon it. Instead of saying, as some do,—“I must first know everything clearly, and then I will act,”—we should say,—“I will diligently use such knowledge as I possess, and believe that in the using fresh knowledge will be given to me.” How many mysteries this simple plan would solve! How many hard things would soon become plain if men would honestly live up to their light, and “follow on to know the Lord!” (Hosea vi. 3.)
   It should never be forgotten that God deals with us as moral beings, and not as beasts or stones. He loves to encourage us to self-exertion and diligent use of such means as we have in our hands. The plain things in religion are undeniably very many. Let a man honestly attend to them, and he shall be taught the deep things of God.
   Whatever some may say about their inability to find out truth, you will rarely find one of them who does not know better than he practices. Then if he is sincere, let him begin here at once. Let him humbly use what little knowledge he has got, and God will soon give him more.—“If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.” (Matt. vi. 22.)
   We learn, secondly, in this passage, that a self-exalting spirit in ministers of religion is entirely opposed to the mind of Christ. Our Lord says, “He that speaketh of himself seeketh his own glory; but he that seeketh His glory that sent him, the same is true, and no unrighteousness is in him.”
   The wisdom and truth of this sentence will be evident at once to any reflecting mind. The minister truly called of God will be deeply sensible of his Master’s majesty and his own infirmity, and will see in himself nothing but unworthiness. He, on the other hand, who knows that he is not “inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost,” will try to cover over his defects by magnifying himself and his office. The very desire to exalt ourselves is a bad symptom. It is a sure sign of something wrong within.
   Does any one ask illustrations of the truth before us? He will find them, on the one side, in the Scribes and Pharisees of our Lord’s times. If one thing more than another distinguished these unhappy men, it was their desire to get praise for themselves.—He will find them, on the other side, in the character of the Apostle St. Paul. The keynote that runs through all his Epistles is personal humility and zeal for Christ’s glory:—”I am less than the least of all saints—I am not fit to be called an Apostle—I am chief of sinners—we preach not ourselves but Christ Jesus the Lord, and ourselves your servants for Jesus’ sake.” (Ephes. iii. 8; 1 Cor. xv. 9; 1 Tim. i. 15; 2 Cor. iv. 5.)
   Does any one ask for a test by which he may discern the real man of God from the false shepherd in the present day? Let him remember our Lord’s weighty words, and notice carefully what is the main object that a minister loves to exalt. Not he who is ever crying,—“Behold the Church! behold the Sacraments! behold the ministry!” but he who says,—“Behold the Lamb!”—is the pastor after God’s own heart. Happy indeed is that minister who forgets self in his pulpit, and desires to be hid behind the cross. This man shall be blessed in his work, and be a blessing.
   We learn, lastly, in this passage, the danger of forming a hasty judgment. The Jews at Jerusalem were ready to condemn our Lord as a sinner against the law of Moses, because He had done a miracle of healing on the Sabbath-day. They forgot in their blind enmity that the fourth commandment was not meant to prevent works of necessity or works of mercy. A work on the Sabbath our Lord had done, no doubt, but not a work forbidden by the law. And hence they drew down on themselves the rebuke, “Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment.”
   The practical value of the lesson before us is very great. We shall do well to remember it as we travel through life, and to correct our estimate of people and things by the light which it supplies.
   We are often too ready to be deceived by an appearance of good. We are in danger of rating some men as very good Christians, because of a little outward profession of religion, and a decent Sunday formality,—because, in short, they talk the language of Canaan, and wear the garb of pilgrims. We forget that all is not good that appears good, even as all is not gold that glitters, and that daily practice, choice, tastes, habits, conduct, private character, are the true evidence of what a man is.—In a word, we forget our Lord’s saying,—”Judge not according to the appearance.”
   We are too ready, on the other hand, to be deceived by the appearance of evil. We are in danger of setting down some men as not true Christians, because of a few faults or inconsistencies, and “making them offenders because of a word.” (Isa. xxix. 21.) We must remember that the best of men are but men at their very best, and that the most eminent saints may be overtaken by temptation, and yet be saints at heart after all. We must not hastily suppose that all is evil, where there is an occasional appearance of evil. The holiest man may fall sadly for a time, and yet the grace within him may finally get a victory. Is a man’s general character godly?—Then let us suspend our judgment when he falls, and hope on. Let us “judge righteous judgment.”
   In any case let us take care that we pass fair judgment on ourselves. Whatever we think of others, let us beware of making mistakes about our own character. There, at any rate, let us be just, honest, and fair. Let us not flatter ourselves that all is right, because all is apparently right before men. “The Lord,” we must remember, “looketh on the heart.” (1 Sam. xvi. 7.) Then let us judge ourselves with righteous judgment, and condemn ourselves while we live, lest we be judged of the Lord and condemned forever at the last day. (1 Cor. xi. 31.)

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

An argument for expository vs. topical preaching:

ă ā
ĕ ē
ĭ ī
ŏ ō
ŭ ū

The Bible is not a book about you and your problems. It is not a “how to” book. It will not tell you directly “How to Have a Successful ___.” Nor is it a collection of moral lessons. It is not Æsop’s Fables or VeggieTales. The Bible is God’s revelation of himself to man. To reduce it to some kind of life manual is to miss the point entirely. The Bible does contain instructions and morals. But if we focus on practical lessons, we will miss the big picture — God himself — and, failing to know God, we will likely misinterpret those lessons, as well. Topical studies are not without value, but their value is mostly limited to that topic alone. No teacher can cover every Biblical topic, nor can any student. So, even (wrongly) assuming the primacy of practical instruction over textual saturation, topical study cannot prepare anyone for every situation they will face. To illustrate:

sh ch
wh th
ph qu

Once upon a time in a far away land, I was taught to read. But before I and my young classmates got to actually read anything, we were taught letters and their sounds, and the sounds of various combinations of consonants and vowels, i.e. phonics. When we finally received our readers, we were expected to use our phonics skills to decipher the stories therein. Pleas for help were countered with “Sound it out!” and so we learned to do just that. While we were “sounding out” words for Mrs Schmidt, students in the same building, but a decade older, were stumbling as best they could through their literature. They had not been taught phonics. They had been taught to recognize words. Consequently, every new word they encountered was strange to them. I, on the other hand, recognized new words simply as new combinations of the same old sounds, so at a very early age, could read words like “juxtaposition,” “pharmaceutical,” and (an early favorite) “ăn-tī-dĭs-ĕs-tăb-lĭsh-mĕn-tā-rï-ăn-ĭs-m.”

oi oy
au aw
ou ow

Pastors and teachers, consider this when you prepare your sermons and lessons. Yes, you can teach “what the Bible says about ___,” but that is the equivalent of word recognition. Expository preaching and teaching, fundamentals of theology, hermeneutics — these are the phonics of the faith. Rank and file Christians, church members, if you have a pastor who preaches expositionally, don’t complain about the lack of practical instruction. Learn to study the Bible systematically. Instead of looking for what the Bible says about ___, seek to learn what the text says, period. Learn your letters, and the words — big and small — will fall into place.

If our treasure is in heaven, it will be reflected in our lives on earth. William Gurnall presents three “particulars” by which we can judge our hearts in this regard.

If, indeed, heaven and heavenly things be the prize thou wrestlest for, thou wilt discover a heavenly deportment of heart, even in earthly things. Wherever you meet a Christian, he is going to heaven. Heaven is at the bottom of his lowest actions. Now observe thy heart in three particulars, in getting, in using, and in keeping earthly things, whether it be after a heavenly manner.
   (1.) Particular. [Observe thy heart] in getting earthly things. If heaven be thy chief prize, then thou wilt be ruled by a heavenly law in the gathering of these. Take a carnal wretch, and what his heart is set on he will have, though it be by hook or crook. A lie fits Gehazi’s mouth well enough, so he may fill his pockets by it. . . . Abraham scorned to be made rich by the king of Sodom, Ge. xiv. 23, that he might avoid the suspicion of covetousness and self-seeking; it shall not be said another day that he came to enrich himself with the spoil, more than to rescue his kinsmen. Nehemiah would not take the tax and tribute to maintain his state, when he knew they were a poor peeled people, ‘because of the fear of the Lord.’ Dost thou walk by this rule? wouldst thou gather no more estate or honour than thou mayest have with God’s leave, and will stand with thy hopes of heaven?
   (2.) Particular. [Observe thy heart] in using earthly things. Dost thou discover a heavenly spirit in using these things?
   (a) The saint improves his earthly things for an heavenly end. Where layest up thy treasure? dost thou bestow it on thy voluptuous paunch, . . . or lockest thou it up in the bosom of Christ’s poor members? what use makest thou of thy honour and greatness, to strengthen the hands of the godly or the wicked? And so of all thy other temporal enjoyments—a gracious heart improves them for God. When a saint prays for these things, he hath an eye to some heavenly end. If David prays for life, it is not that he may live, but live and praise God, Ps. cxix. 175. When he was driven from his regal throne by the rebellious arms of Absalom, see what his desire was and hope, ‘The king said unto Zadok, Carry back the ark of God into the city: if I shall find favour in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me again, and shew me both it, and his habitation,’ 2 Sa. xv. 25. Mark, not ‘show me my crown, my palace,’ but ‘the ark, the house of God.’
   (b) A gracious heart pursues earthly things with a holy indifferency, saving the violence and zeal of his spirit for the things of heaven. He useth the former as if he used them not—with a kind of non-attendancy; his head and his heart is taken up with higher matters, how he may please God, thrive in his grace, enjoy more intimate communion with Christ in his ordinances; in all these he spreads all his sails, plies all his oars, strains every part and power. Thus we find David upon his full speed, ‘My soul presseth hard after thee,’ Ps. lxiii. And, before the ark, we find him dancing with all his might. Now a carnal heart is clean contrary, his zeal is for the world, and his indifferency in the things of God . . . When he is about any worldly business, he is as earnest at it as the idolatrous smith in hammering of his image, who, the prophet saith, ‘worketh it with the strength of his arms: yea, he is hungry, and his strength faileth: he drinketh not, and is faint,’ Is. xliv. 12. So zealous is the muck-worm in his worldly employments, that he will pinch his carcase, and deny himself his repast in due season, to pursue that. The kitchen there will wait on the shop; but in the worship of God, it is enough to make him sick of the sermon, and angry with the preacher, if he be kept beyond his hour. Here the sermon must give place to the kitchen. So the man for his pleasures and carnal pastime; he tells no clock at his sports, and knows not how the day goes . . . But at any heavenly work, O how is the man punished! time now hath leaden heels he thinks. All he does at a sermon is to tell the clock, and see how the glass runs. . . .
   (c) The Christian useth these things with a holy fear, lest earth should rob heaven, and his outward enjoyments prejudice his heavenly interest. He eats in fear, works in fear, rejoiceth in his abundance with fear. As Job sanctified his children by offering a sacrifice, out of a fear lest they had sinned; so the Christian is continually sanctifying his earthly enjoyments by prayer, that so he may be delivered from the snare of them.
   (3.) Particular. [Observe thy heart] in keeping of earthly things. The same heavenly law, which the Christian went by in getting, he observes in holding, them. As he dares not say he will be rich and honourable in the world, but if God will; so neither that he will hold what he hath. He only keeps them, until his heavenly Father calls for them, that at first gave them. If God will continue them to him, and entail them on his posterity too, he blesseth God; and so he desires to do also when he takes them away. . . . The Christian will expose all he hath in this world to preserve his hopes for another. Jacob, in his march towards Esau, sent his servants with his flocks before, and came himself with his wives behind; if he can save anything from his brother's rage, it shall be what he loves best: if the Christian can save anything, it shall be his soul, his interest in Christ and heaven, and then no matter if the rest go . . .

—William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour (Banner of Truth Trust, 2002), 1:220–222.

John 1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. 4 In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. 5 The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

Beginning my reading of everything I own on The Gospel According to John, I’ve decided to start with Calvin. Readers familiar with this blog may infer some theological bias in that decision, but they would be mistaken. Not that I admit no such bias; I do. No, my choice is the result of much serious consideration. Following a thorough review of all my options, I surveyed the wall upon which my commentaries hang, and saw that Calvin’s were in the top left position relative to the others. Everyone knows English is read top to bottom and right to left, so what else could I do? Anyway . . .

Today, Calvin explains for us the purpose for the light that comes with the life that we find in Christ.

   The life was the light of men. . . . He speaks here, in my opinion, of that part of life in which was bestowed on menwas not of an ordinary description, it was united to the light of understanding. He separates man from the rank of other creatures; because we perceive more readily the power of God by feeling it in us than by beholding it at a distance. Thus Paul charges us not to seek God at a distance, because he makes himself to be felt within us, (Acts xvii. 27.) after having presented a general exhibition of the kindness of Christ, in order to induce men to take a nearer view of it, he points out what has been bestowed peculiarly on themselves; namely, that they were not created like the beasts, but having been endued with reason, they had obtained a higher rank. As it is not in vain that God imparts his light to their minds, it follows that the purpose for which they were created was, that they might acknowledge Him who is the Author of so excellent of blessing. And since this light, of which the Speech* was the source, has been conveyed from him to us, it ought to serve as a mirror, on which we may clearly behold the divine power of the Speech.

—John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries Volume XVII, Commentary on the Gospel according to John Volume I (Baker Books, 2009), 31.

* Calvin translates ὁ λόγος thus, and explains, “I wonder what induced the Latins to render ὁ λόγος by Verbum, (the Word;) for that would rather have been the translation of τὸ ῥη̑μα. But granting that they had some plausible reason, still it cannot be denied that Sermo (the Speech) would have been far more appropriate.” [p. 28]

I am posting quite late today because my reading of Calvin ran into a snag. As I was appreciating his interpretation of John 1:9, I realized that it was dependent on a translation that disagrees significantly with my preferred translation, the NASB. Was I about to post nonsense? I needed to know.

My first step was to look at the Greek text:

ην το φως το αληθινον ο φωτιζει παντα ανθρωπον ερχομενον εις τον κοσμον

As I’ve said on previous occasions, I’m no Greek scholar. The text above is, as they say, all Greek to me. If not for my Greek lexicon and other helps, it would just be scribbling. I only include it for the benefit of genuine New Testament scholars, and because it looks kind of cool. It is also worth noting that this text is identical whether you read the Textus Receptus or Westcott-Hort, so KJV-only folks can relax (yes, I saw that vein popping out on your forehead). Now, look at a few English translations:

Calvin:

The true light was that which enlighteneth every man who cometh into the world.

KJV:

That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.

Young’s Literal Translation:

He was the true Light, which doth enlighten every man, coming to the world;

NASB:

There was the true Light which, coming into the world, enlightens every man.

ESV:

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

I normally trust the NASB as the most literal translation, but (translators being fallible) I don’t take it for granted. As you can see, Young’s translation maintains the word order of Calvin and the KJV, but with a single comma, changes the subject of the phrase “coming to the world” from “every man” to “the true Light.” The reason this matters (besides the fact that accuracy always matters) is that, as Calvin points out below, “every man that cometh into the world” is necessarily universal, meaning that every man — not only the elect, as some say — are enlightened. The latter translation leaves room for (but does not require) a limited “all,” as in John 12:32.

Matthew Henry follows the former translation, and specifies a universal “all.”1 John Gill likewise accepts that translation, but admits the viability of either interpretation.2 John Macarthur agrees with the NASB translation — “Through his coming into the world, Jesus enlightens every man.”3 — but also agrees with Calvin that “every” is meant to be universal. A. T. Robertson renders it “every man as he comes into the world.”4

While there are, no doubt, translation issues of which I am ignorant, I am reasonably confident that the older translation, in this case, is the correct one (if not, I will happily be corrected). In either case, Calvin’s interpretation appears to be correct. Being satisfied, then, that he was on the right track, I was freed to post the excerpt I had selected. So the last word goes, fittingly, to Calvin.

The true light was. The Evangelist did not intend to contrast the true light with the false, but to distinguish Christ from all others, that none might imagine that what is called light belongs to him in common with angels or men. The distinction is, that whatever is luminous in heaven and in earth borrows its splendor from some other object; but Christ is the light, shining from itself and by itself, and enlightening the whole world by its radiance; so that no other source or cause of splendor is anywhere to be found. He gave the name of the true light, therefore, to that which has by nature the power of giving light.
   Which enlighteneth every man. The Evangelist insists chiefly on this point, in order to show, from the effect which every one of us perceives in him, that Christ is the light. He might have reasoned more ingeniously, that Christ, as the eternal light, has a splendor which is natural, and not brought from any other quarter; but instead of doing so, he sends us back to the experience which we all possess. For as Christ makes us all partakers of his brightness, it must be acknowledged that to him alone belongs strictly this honor of being called light.
   This passage is commonly explained in two ways. Some restrict the phrase, every man, to those who, having been renewed by the Spirit of God, become partakers of the life-giving light. Augustine employs the comparison of a schoolmaster who, if he happen to be the only person who has a school in the town, will be called the teacher of all, though there be many persons that do not go to his school. They therefore understand the phrase in a comparative sense, that all are enlightened by Christ, because no man can boast of having obtained the light of life in any other way than by his grace. But since the Evangelist employs the general phrase, every man that cometh into the world, I am more inclined to adopt the other meaning, which is, that from this light the rays are diffused over all mankind . . . For we know that men have this peculiar excellence which raises them above other animals, that they are endued with reason and intelligence, and that they carry the distinction between right and wrong engraven on their conscience. There is no man, therefore, whom some perception of the eternal light does not reach.
   But as there are fanatics who rashly strain and torture this passage, so as to infer from it that the grace of illumination is equally offered to all, let us remember that the only subject here treated is the common light of nature, which is far inferior to faith; for never will any man, by all the acuteness and sagacity of his own mind, penetrate into the kingdom of God. It is the Spirit of God alone who opens the gate of heaven to the elect. Next, let us remember that the light of reason which God implanted in men has been so obscured by sin, that amidst the thick darkness, and shocking ignorance, and gulf of errors, there are hardly a few shining sparks that are not utterly extinguished.

—John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries Volume XVII, Commentary on the Gospel according to John Volume I (Baker Books, 2009), 37–38.

1 Matthew Henry’s Commentary Volume 5 (Hendrickson, 1994), 686.

2 Exposition of the Old and New Testaments Volume 7 ( The Baptist Standard Bearer, 2006) 741–742.

3 The MacArthur New Testament Commentary, John 1–11 (Moody, 2006) 32.

4 Word Pictures in the New Testament, Volume 5 (Broadman Press, 1932), 9.

Our Fridays are dedicated to dishing out capitalist wisdom, to nurse us (U.S. Americans) through the present Marxist captivity of our beloved republic.

I love irony, especially when it proves the inconsistency of aberrant philosophies. For example:

Marx argued that labour was exploited. Why? Because labour produced the whole of the product but got only part of it; the rest is Marx’s “surplus value”. Even if the statements of fact implicit in this assertion were accepted, the value judgment follows only if one accepts the capitalist ethic. Labour is “exploited” only if labour is entitled to what it produces. If one accepts instead the socialist premise, “to each according to his own need, from each according to his ability.” — whatever that may mean — it is necessary to compare what labour produces, not what it gets but with its “ability”, and to compare what labour gets, not with what it produces but with its “need.”

—Milton Friedman, Capitalism and Freedom (The University of Chicago Press, 2002), 167.

. . . for the true gospel.

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

Hymn XXV.
Hannah; or the throne of grace. I. Samuel i. 18.
John Newton (1725–1807)

When Hannah press’d with grief,
 Pour’d forth her soul in pray’r;
   She quickly found relief,
      And left her burden there:
Like her, in ev’ry trying case,
Let us approach the throne of grace.

   When she began to pray,
      Her heart was pain’d and sad;
   But ere she went away,
      Was comforted and glad:
In trouble, what a resting place,
Have they who know the throne of grace!

   Tho’ men and devils rage,
      And threaten to devour;
   The saints, from age to age,
      Are safe from all their pow’r:
Fresh strength they gain to run their race,
By waiting at the throne of grace.

   Eli her case mistook,
      How was her spirit mov’d
   By his unkind rebuke?
      But God her cause approv’d.
We need not fear a creature’s face,
While welcome at a throne of grace.

   She was not fill’d with wine,
      As Eli rashly thought;
   But with a faith divine,
      And found the help she sought:
Tho’ men despise and call us base,
Still let us ply the throne of grace.

   Men have not pow’r or skill,
      With troubled souls to bear;
   Tho’ they express good–will,
      Poor comforters they are:
But swelling sorrows sink apace,
When we approach the throne of grace.

   Numbers before have try’d,
      And found the promise true;
   Nor one been yet deny’d,
      Then why should I or you?
Let us by faith their footsteps trace,
And hasten to the throne of grace.

   As fogs obscure the light,
      And taint the morning air;
   But soon are put to flight,
      If the bright sun appear;
Thus Jesus will our troubles chase,
By shining from the throne of grace.

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

John 7:25–36

Christ’s Origins from the Father

So some of the people of Jerusalem were saying, “Is this not the man whom they are seeking to kill? 26 Look, He is speaking publicly, and they are saying nothing to Him. The rulers do not really know that this is the Christ, do they? 27 However, we know where this man is from; but whenever the Christ may come, no one knows where He is from.” 28 Then Jesus cried out in the temple, teaching and saying, “You both know Me and know where I am from; and I have not come of Myself, but He who sent Me is true, whom you do not know. 29 I know Him, because I am from Him, and He sent Me.” 30 So they were seeking to seize Him; and no man laid his hand on Him, because His hour had not yet come. 31 But many of the crowd believed in Him; and they were saying, “When the Christ comes, He will not perform more signs than those which this man has, will He?”

Christ’s Departure to the Father

We see in these verses, the obstinate blindness of the unbelieving Jews. We find them defending their denial of our Lord’s Messiahship, by saying, “But we know this man whence He is: but when Christ cometh no man knoweth whence he is.” And yet in both these assertions they were wrong!
   They were wrong in saying that they “knew whence our Lord came.” They meant no doubt to say that He was born at Nazareth, and belonged to Nazareth, and was therefore a Galilean. Yet the fact was, that our Lord was born at Bethlehem, that He belonged legally to the tribe of Judah, and that His mother and Joseph were of the house and lineage of David. It is incredible to suppose that the Jews could not have found this out, if they had honestly searched and inquired. It is notorious that pedigrees, genealogies, and family histories were most carefully kept by the Jewish nation. Their ignorance was without excuse.
   They were wrong again in saying, “that no man was to know whence Christ came.” There was a well-known prophecy, with which their whole nation was familiar, that Christ was to come out of the town of Bethlehem. (Micah v. 2; Matt. ii. 5; John vii 42.) It is absurd to suppose that they had forgotten this prophecy. But apparently they found it inconvenient to remember it on this occasion. Men’s memories are often sadly dependent on their wills.
   The Apostle Peter, in a certain place, speaks of some as “willingly ignorant.” (2 Pet. iii. 5.) He had good reason to use the expression. It is a sore spiritual disease, and one most painfully common among men. There are thousands in the present day just as blind in their way as the Jews. They shut their eyes against the plainest facts and doctrines of Christianity. They pretend to say that they do not understand, and cannot therefore believe the things that we press on their attention, as needful to salvation. But, alas! in nineteen cases out of twenty it is a wilful ignorance. They do not believe what they do not like to believe. They will neither read, nor listen, nor search, nor think, nor inquire, honestly after truth. Can any one wonder if such people are ignorant? Faithful and true is that old proverb,—“There are none so blind as those who will not see.”
   We see, for another thing, in these verses, the overruling hand of God over all His enemies. We find that the unbelieving Jews “Sought to take our Lord: but no man laid hands on Him, because his hour was not yet come.” They had the will to hurt him, but by an invisible restraint from above, they had not the power.
   There is a mine of deep truth in the words before us, which deserves close attention. They show us plainly that all our Lord’s sufferings were undergone voluntarily, and of His own free will. He did not go to the cross because He could not help it. He did not die because He could not prevent His death. Neither Jew nor Gentile, Pharisee nor Sadducee, Annas nor Caiaphas, Herod nor Pontius Pilate, could have injured our Lord, except power had been given them from above. All that they did was done under control, and by permission. The crucifixion was part of the eternal counsels of the Trinity. The passion of our Lord could not begin until the very hour which God had appointed. This is a great mystery. But it is a truth.
   The servants of Christ in every age should treasure up the doctrine before us, and remember it in time of need. It is “full of sweet, pleasant, and unspeakable comfort to godly persons.” Let such never forget that they live in a world where God overrules all times and events, and where nothing can happen but by God’s permission. The very hairs of their heads are all numbered. Sorrow and sickness, and poverty, and persecution, can never touch them, unless God sees fit. They may boldly say to every cross,—“You could have no power against me, except it were given thee from above.” Then let them work on confidently. They are immortal, till their work is done. Let them suffer patiently, if needs be that they suffer. Their “times are in God’s hand.” (Psl. xxxi. 15.) That hand guides and governs all things here below, and makes no mistakes.
   We see lastly, in these verses, the miserable end to which unbelievers may one day come. We find our Lord saying to His enemies,—“Ye shall seek me, and shall not find me; and where I am thither ye cannot come.”
   We can hardly doubt that these words were meant to have a prophetical sense. Whether our Lord had in view individual cases of unbelief among His hearers, or whether He looked forward to the national remorse which many would feel too late in the final siege of Jerusalem, are points which we cannot perhaps decide. But that many Jews did remember Christ’s sayings long after He had ascended into heaven, and did in a way seek Him and wish for Him when it was too late, we may be very sure.
   It is far too much forgotten that there is such a thing as finding out truth too late. There may be convictions of sin, discoveries of our own folly, desires after peace, anxieties about heaven, fears of hell,—but all too late. The teaching of Scripture on this point is clear and express. It is written in Proverbs,—“Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me.” (Prov. ii. 28.) It is written of the foolish virgins in the parable, that when they found the door shut, they knocked in vain, saying, “Lord, Lord, open to us.” (Matt. xxxv. 11.) Awful as it may seem, it is possible, by continually resisting light and warnings, to sin away our own souls. It sounds terrible, but it is true.
   Let us take heed to ourselves lest we sin after the example of the unbelieving Jews, and never seek the Lord Jesus as a Saviour until it is too late. The door of mercy is still open. The throne of grace is still waiting for us. Let us give diligence to make sure our interest in Christ, while it is called to-day. Better never have been born than hear the Son of God say at last, “Where I am thither ye cannot come.”

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