As fallen beings, we humans are, regardless of relative intelligence, ignorant and stupid. Nowhere (in my opinion) is this stupidity displayed more plainly than in our opinions of ourselves and our fellow humans. Those opinions are consistently higher than they ought to be. How often have you heard it said that “there is some good in everyone”? Yet Scripture describes us in somewhat less glowing terms (Isaiah 64:6; Romans 3:10–18). If we are overly generous in our opinions of mankind in general, we are especially kind to ourselves. Even when confessing a fault we will usually impute to ourselves sincere, good intentions. As William Gurnall writes, we ought not to make that assumption. Rather, we should hold our hearts suspiciously at all times.
It behoves thee thus to try thy ways when you consider how hypocrisy lies close in the heart. If thou beest not very careful, thou mayest easily pass a false judgement on thyself. They who were sent to search the cellar under the parliament, at first saw nothing but coals and winter provision; but, upon a review, when they came to throw away that stuff they found all [to be] but provision for the devil’s kitchen; then the mystery of iniquity was uncased, and the barrels of powder appeared.* How many are there, that from some duties of piety they perform, some seeming zeal they express in profession, presently cry omnia benè—all things are well, and are so kind to themselves as to vote themselves good Christians, who, did they but take the pains to throw these aside, might find a foul hypocrite at the bottom of them all. Hypocrisy often takes up her lodging next door to sincerity, and so she passes unfound—the soul not suspecting hell can be so near heaven. And as hypocrisy, so sincerity, is hard to be discovered. This grace often lies low in the heart, hid with infirmities, like the sweet violet in some valley, or near some brook, hid with thorns and nettles, so that there requires both care and wisdom, that we neither let the weed of hypocrisy stand nor pluck up the herb of grace in its stead.
* Gurnall refers here to The Gunpowder Plot of 1605 (a failed assassination attempt against King James I of England and VI of Scotland). The Gunpowder Plot was still recent history, having taken place a scant twelve years before Gurnall’s birth in 1617.
17 “Even in your law it has been written that the testimony of two men is true. 18 I am He who testifies about Myself, and the Father who sent Me testifies about Me.”
The Divinity of Jesus
19 So they were saying to Him, “Where is Your Father?” Jesus answered, “You know neither Me nor My Father; if you knew Me, you would know My Father also.”
42 Jesus said to them, “If God were your Father, you would love Me, for I proceeded forth and have come from God, for I have not even come on My own initiative, but He sent Me.”
58 Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was born, I am.”
The Sovereignty of God
20 . . . and no one seized Him, because His hour had not yet come.
The Exclusivity of Christ
24 “Therefore I said to you that you will die in your sins; for unless you believe that I am He, you will die in your sins.”
There are, of course, more doctrines than these in this chapter, and more verses in this chapter concerning these doctrines.
John 9:17So they said to the blind man again, “What do you say about Him, since He opened your eyes?” And he said, “He is a prophet.”
John Calvin on the blind man’s profession:
When [the Pharisees] ask the blind man what is his opinion, they do so, not because they wish to abide by his judgment, or set any value on it, but because they hope that the man, struck with fear, will reply according to their wish. In this respect the Lord disappoints them; for when a poor man disregards their threatenings, and boldly maintains that Christ is a Prophet, we ought justly to ascribe it to the grace of God; so that this boldness is another miracle. And if he so boldly and freely acknowledged Christ to be a Prophet, though he did not as yet know that the Lord Jesus was the Son of God, how shameful is the treachery of those who, subdued by fear, either deny him, or are silent respecting him, though they know that he sitteth at the right hand of the Father, and that he will come thence to be the Judge of the whole world! Since this blind man did not quench a small spark of knowledge, we ought to endeavor that an open and full confession may blaze forth from the full brightness which has shone into our hearts.
—John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries Volume XVII, Commentary on the Gospel according to John, Volume I (Baker Books, 2009), 378.
Our Fridays are (usually) dedicated to the promotion of liberty.
It just occurred to me this morning that I passed a couple of blog anniversary dates this week. Tuesday, June 1st, was the fifth anniversary of this blog. It also marked two years of daily blogging. That’s 730 days straight without skipping, or 733 through today. That’s nothing compared to 2,408 days, but it’s a moderately big deal to me.
So how is this “sort of” a Freedom Friday post? It’s like this: I began daily blogging as a kind of discipline to push me to read more and better, and it served that purpose quite well. But I’ve gotten tired. What used to be a good thing has become a burden, and it’s not really working any more. Consequently, I’m thinking — only thinking at this point — of liberating myself from the obligation. If I can’t put my heart into my blogging so that it once again becomes a sharpening tool, you may see a cessation of daily activity here. Don’t worry, it won’t mean I’m dead.
Then again, maybe it will. You never know.
I was also supposed to have my biennial facelift up this week. I started work on it several weeks ago, and then completely forgot about it. I’ll get it done eventually. Or maybe I’ll just go with this one.
. . . and that’s how I combine another The Holiness of God drawing with this:
I have delivered babies. Six of our children were born at home, two with a midwife, and four without, so I know a bit about childbirth. I’m also a pretty good inventor. If I need something that isn’t readily available, I’ll usually figure something out and create it. If it sounds like I’m going somewhere scary with this, you’re right. But you have no idea how scary. Just so there’s no mistake, this isn’t my invention; crazy as my Mrs. thinks I am, I never would have thought of Birth by Centrifugal Force (those currently with child might want to brace themselves before clicking).
Alright, then! Everybody still with me?
Now it’s time to give away the penultimate copy of The Holiness of God by R. C. Sproul. To enter, just send me an email that includes
Your name
How you follow this blog, i.e.RSS, Twitter, Facebook, Kindle, link from your blog, bookmark, etc.
“The Holiness of God Giveaway 11” in the subject line
Entries will be accepted through next Friday (June 11), and the winner will be notified by email. Another drawing, the final one this time, will be announced next Saturday.
Father, Thy Son hath died The sinner’s death of woe; Stooping in love from heaven to earth, Our curse to undergo; Our curse to undergo, Upon the hateful tree. Give glory to Thy Son, O Lord, Put honour on that name of names, By blessing me!
Father, Thy Son hath borne
The sinner’s doom of shame;
Bearing his cross without the gate,
He met the law’s full claim;
He met the law’s full claim,
Sin’s righteous penalty.
Give glory to Thy Son, O Lord,
Put honour on that name of names,
By pardoning me!
Father, Thy Son hath poured
His life-blood on this earth,
To cleanse away our guilt and stains,
To give us second birth;
To give us second birth,
From sin to set us free.
Give glory to Thy Son, O Lord,
Put honour on that name of names,
By cleansing me!
Father, Thy Son hath risen.
Overcoming hell’s dark powers;
His surety-death was all for us,
His surety- life is ours;
His surety life is ours,
Ours, ours eternally.
Give glory to Thy Son, O Lord,
Put honour on that name of names,
By quickening me!
Father, Thy Son to thee
Is now gone up on high,
Enthroned in heaven at Thy right hand,
He reigns eternally;
He reigns eternally,
In might and majesty.
Give glory to Thy Son, O Lord,
Put honour on that name of names,
By raising me!
Father, Thy Son on earth,
No one to own Him found,
He passed among the sons of men
Rejected and disowned;
Rejected and disowned,
That we received might be!
Give glory to Thy Son, O Lord,
Put honour on that name of names,
By owning me!
Father, Thy Son is king.
Heaven’s crown and earth’s is his;
For us, for us, he bought the crown,
For us he earned the bliss;
For us he earned the bliss,
Amen, so let it be!
Give glory to Thy Son, O Lord,
Put honour on that name of names,
By crowning me!
—Horatius Bonar, Hymns of Faith and Hope, First Series (James Nisbet & Co., 1878).
John 11:17–29
So when Jesus came, He found that he had already been in the tomb four days. 18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, about two miles off; 19 and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary, to console them concerning their brother. 20 Martha therefore, when she heard that Jesus was coming, went to meet Him, but Mary stayed at the house. 21 Martha then said to Jesus, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died. 22 Even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You.” 23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” 24 Martha said to Him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” 25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, 26 and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?” 27 She said to Him, “Yes, Lord; I have believed that You are the Christ, the Son of God, even He who comes into the world.” 28 When she had said this, she went away and called Mary her sister, saying secretly, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” 29 And when she heard it, she got up quickly and was coming to Him.
There is a grand simplicity about this passage, which is almost spoiled by any human exposition. To comment on it seems like gilding gold or painting lilies. Yet it throws much light on a subject which we can never understand too well; that is, the true character of Christ’s people. The portraits of Christians in the Bible are faithful likenesses. They show us saints just as they are. We learn, firstly, what a strange mixture of grace and weakness is to be found even in the hearts of true believers. We see this strikingly illustrated in the language used by Martha and Mary. Both these holy women had faith enough to say, “Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother would had not died.” Yet neither of them seems to have remembered that the death of Lazarus did not depend on Christ’s absence, and that our Lord, had He thought fit, could have prevented his death with a word, without coming to Bethany.—Martha had knowledge enough to say, “I know, that even now, whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God wilt give it to Thee,—I know that my brother shall rise again at the last day,—I believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God.”—But even she could get no further. Her dim eyes and trembling hands could not grasp the grand truth that He who stood before her had the keys of life and death, and that in her Master dwelt “all the fullness of the Godhead bodily.” (Colos. ii. 9.) She saw indeed, but through a glass darkly. She knew, but only in part. She believed, but her faith was mingled with much unbelief. Yet both Martha and Mary were genuine children of God, and true Christians. These things are graciously written for our learning. It is good to remember what true Christians really are. Many and great are the mistakes into which people fall, by forming a false estimate of the Christian’s character. Many are the bitter things which people write against themselves, by expecting to find in their hearts what cannot be found on this side of heaven. Let us settle it in our minds that saints on earth are not perfect angels, but only converted sinners. They are sinners renewed, changed, sanctified, no doubt; but they are yet sinners, and will be until they die. Like Martha and Mary, their faith is often entangled with much unbelief, and their grace compassed round with much infirmity. Happy is that child of God who understands these things, and has learned to judge rightly both of himself and others. Rarely indeed shall we find the saint who does not often need that prayer, “Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.” We learn, secondly, what need many believers have of clear views of Christ’s person, office, and power. This is a point which is forcibly brought out in the well-known sentence which our Lord addressed to Martha. In reply to her vague and faltering expression of belief in the resurrection at the last day, He proclaims the glorious truth, “I am the resurrection and the life;”—“I, even I, your Master, am He that has the keys of life and death in His hands.” And then He presses on her once more that old lesson, which she had doubtless often heard, but never fully realized: “He that believeth in Me will live, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die.” There is matter here which deserves the close consideration of all true Christians. Many of them complain of want of sensible comfort in their religion. They do not feel the inward peace which they desire. Let them know that vague and indefinite views of Christ are too often the cause of all their perplexities. They must try to see more clearly the great object on which their faith rests. They must grasp more firmly His love and power toward those who believe, and the riches He has laid up for them even now in this world. We are, many of us, sadly like Martha. A little general knowledge of Christ as the only Saviour is often all that we possess. But of the fullness that dwells in Him, of His resurrection, His priesthood, His intercession, His unfailing compassion, we have tasted little or nothing at all. They are things of which our Lord might well say to many, as he did to Martha, “Believest thou this?” Let us take shame to ourselves that we have named the name of Christ so long, and yet know so little about Him. What right have we to wonder that we feel so little sensible comfort in our Christianity? Our slight and imperfect knowledge of Christ is the true reason of our discomfort. Let the time past suffice us to have been lazy students in Christ’s school; let the time to come find us more diligent in trying to “know Him and the power of His resurrection.” (Philip. iii. 10.) If true Christians would only strive, as St. Paul says, to “comprehend what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height, and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge,” they would be amazed at the discoveries they would make. They would soon find, like Hagar, that there are wells of water near them of which they had no knowledge. They would soon discover that there is more heaven to be enjoyed on earth than they had ever thought possible. The root of a happy religion is clear, distinct, well-defined knowledge of Jesus Christ. More knowledge would have saved Martha many sighs and tears. Knowledge alone no doubt, if unsanctified, only “puffeth up.” (1 Cor. vii. 1.) Yet without clear knowledge of Christ in all His offices we cannot expect to be established in the faith, and steady in the time of need.
—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007) [Westminster (PB) | Amazon (HC)].
A couple of weeks ago, Ligonier Ministries’ Renewing Your Mind radio program broadcast a couple of old lectures — not really sermons, and not really a “debate” (as they were billed), either — on baptism. R. C. Sproul presented the traditional view of infant baptism, and John MacArthur presented the biblical doctrine of the baptism of believers alone.
Now, if I was one of the Truly Reformed, I’d be annoyed by that last sentence, particularly by the adjectives. Of course, this is my blog, and I’m not pretending any kind of impartiality. I am also not introducing two speakers presenting opposing views, so I am under no burden to appear fair and unbiased. However, if that was the situation, describing the opposing views as I did above — even though that is exactly how I see it — would be prejudicial, and inappropriate for the moment.
Consider, then, how the two messages were described on the Ligonier website:
The church’s practice of infant baptism came under attack in the sixteenth century. Since that time, many Christian churches have rallied against the practice, administering baptism only to believing adults. From Ligonier Ministries’ 1998 National Conference, Drs. John MacArthur Jr. and R.C. Sproul discuss their views on the Biblical meaning and mode of Christian baptism. Dr. MacArthur presents the credo-baptist position and Dr. Sproul presents the historic paedo(infant)-baptist position.
That’s “the credo-baptist position” vs. the “historic paedo(infant)-baptist position.” That really didn’t bother me at first, but after a comment about it was made on another blog, I began to think more about what the word “historic” means:
Main Entry: his·tor·ic Pronunciation: \hi-'stȯr-ik, -'stär-\ Function: adjective Date: 1594 : historical: as a : famous or important in history <historic battlefields> b : having great and lasting importance <a historic occasion> c : known or established in the past <historic interest rates> d : dating from or preserved from a past time or culture <historic buildings> <historic artifacts>
So which view is more “historic”? I’ll grant that paedobaptism is an historic practice, but, by Dr. Sproul’s own admission, we don’t find it documented until the third century. Credobaptism, we all know, is explicitly documented in the New Testament. Paedobaptism is clearly not the historic position.
To Ligonier’s credit, the original Renewing Your Mind introductions did not use quite so prejudicial a term. The original audience heard the following descriptions:
the Protestant views of infant baptism
the traditional doctrine of infant baptism
the traditional Protestant case for infant baptism
the classical Protestant view of infant baptism
the classical Protestant case for infant baptism
the Protestant case for infant baptism
the traditional view of believer’s baptism
Those descriptions still indicate some bias — there is a “case for” infant baptism, but only a “view of” believer’s baptism — but I don’t find them quite so irksome. After all, the earliest Protestants were paedobaptists. Somewhat humorous to me, though, is the reference to the “classical Protestant view.” [ahem] Excuse me, Mr. Ligonier-Announcer, but wouldn’t that be the Lutheran view?
Well, be that as it may, I’ve rambled on for some five hundred words without getting to the issue that is really on my mind. We could go back and forth indefinitely on which is the historic view, or the (historical, classical, or what-you-will) Protestant view. Those discussions are not entirely irrelevant, but neither are they decisive. What we really want to know is which view is biblical. Luther famously declared that popes and councils can err. He also proved that reformers can err. Reformed churchmen would point to his doctrine of baptismal regeneration as proof of that. Among his other errors, also recognized by the Reformed, were his insistence on the real presence of the body and blood of Christ in the Lord’s Supper (transconsubstantiation), and the perpetual virginity of Mary. Calvin also either believed in or considered it unnecessary to deny the perpetual virginity. The Church Fathers present a wide variety of oddities (consider where Matthew 18:7–9 took Origen!). The Fathers and Reformers, valuable as they are, must be left in their places. So I think it’s unfortunate that those terms (historic, classical, traditional, Protestant) were used at all.
Being Protestant is of great importance to me. That the Reformation was and remains necessary and right is a presupposition in any of my discussions. Yet the bottom line is not being Protestant, or (mostly) Reformed. The bottom line is being biblical.
William Gurnall wrote, “a sincere heart is a plain heart.” The sincere heart deals plainly — honestly and straightforwardly — with God, with man, and with himself. Concerning the latter, Gurnall writes:
A sincere heart deals plainly with itself, and that in two things chiefly. (a) In searching and ransacking its own self. This it doth to its utmost skill and power. . . . When David found his thoughts of God, which used to recreate him, and be his most pleasing company, occasion some trouble in his spirit—’I remembered God, and was troubled,’ Ps. lxxvii. 3—this holy man, wondering what the matter should be, do but see what a privy search he makes. He hunts backwards and forwards, what God’s former dealings had been, and ‘communes with his heart, and makes diligent search’ there, ver. 6; never gives over till he brings it to an issue; and finding the disturber of his peace to be in himself, he is not so tender of his reputation as to think of smothering the business or smoothing it over, but attacks the thief, indicts his sin, and confesseth the fact, to the justifying of God, whom before he had hard thoughts of. ‘And I said, This is my infirmity,’ ver. 10; as if he had said, ‘Lord, now I see the Jonas that caused the storm in my bosom, and made me uncomfortable in my affliction all this while; it is this unbelief of mine that bowed me down to attend so to the sorrow and sense of my present affliction, that it would not suffer me to look up to former experiences, and so, while I forgat them, I thought unworthily of thee.’ Here was an honest plain-dealing soul indeed. What akin art thou, O man, to holy David? is this thy way in of searching thy soul? dost thou do it in earnest, as if thou wert searching for a murderer hid in thy house; as willing to find out thy sin . . . ? Tertullian said of the heathen persecutors, noluerunt audire, quod auditum damnare non possint—they would not let the Christians be heard, because they could not then easily have had the face to condemn them, their cause would have appeared so just. The contrary here is true. The hypocrite dares not put his state upon a fair trial, because then he could not handsomely escape condemning himself. But the sincere soul is so zealous to know its true state, that when he hath done his utmost himself to find it out, and his conscience upon this privy search clears him, yet he contents not himself here; but jealous lest self-love might blind his eyes, and occasion too favourable a report from his conscience, he calls in help from heaven, and puts himself upon God’s review. ‘Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee? and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee? Ps. cxxxix. 21. His own conscience answers to it: ‘I hate them with perfect hatred: I count them mine enemies,’ ver. 22. Yet David, not wholly satisfied with his own single testimony, calls out to God, ‘Search me, O God, and know my heart; . . . see if there be any wicked way in me,’ ver. 23, 24. And wise physicians will not trust their own judgments about the state of their own health; nor sincere Christians themselves about their souls’ welfare. It is God that they attend to. His judgment alone concludes and determines them. When they have prayed and opened their case to him, with David, they listen what he will say. Therefore you shall find them putting themselves under the most searching ministry, from which they never come more pleased than when their consciences are stripped naked, and their hearts exposed to their view; as the woman of Samaria, who commended the sermon, and Christ that preached it, for this unto her neighbours, that he had told her all that ever she had done, John iv. 29. . . . (b) The true heart shows its plain-dealing with itself, as in searching, so in judging itself, when once testimony comes in clear against it, and conscience tells it, ‘Soul, in this duty thou betrayedst pride, in that affection, frowardness and impatience.’ Such a one is not long before it proceeds to judgment, and this it doth with so much vehemency and severity, that it plainly appears zeal for God—whom he hath dishonoured—makes him forget all self-pity. He lays about him in humbling and abasing himself, as the sons of Levi in executing justice on their brethren who knew ‘neither brother nor sister’ in that act. Truly such an heroic act is this of the sincere soul judging itself. He is so transported and clothed with a holy fury against his sin, that he is deaf to the cry of flesh and blood, which would move him to think of a more favourable sentence. ‘I have sinned,’ saith David, ‘against the Lord,’ 2 Sa. xii. 13; in another place, ‘I have sinned greatly, and done very foolishly,’ 2 Sa. xxiiii; in a third, he, as unworthy of a man’s name, takes beast to himself—‘so foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee,’ Ps. lxxiii. 22. But with a false heart—if conscience checks him for this or that . . .—the court is sure to be broken up, . . . so conscience ceaseth to give evidence where it cannot be heard, can have no judgment against the offender.
John 10:24The Jews then gathered around Him, and were saying to Him, “How long will You keep us in suspense? If You are the Christ, tell us plainly.” 25 Jesus answered them, “I told you, and you do not believe; the works that I do in My Father's name, these testify of Me. 26 But you do not believe because you are not of My sheep.
Why do people not believe the word when it is preached? It is certainly not due to the character of the preacher. Jesus himself was not believed. Charles Finney and his descendents would inform Jesus that the Pharisees did not believe because he had not employed the right means to convince them. But Jesus had a different explanation. Calvin comments:
25. I have told you. Our Lord Jesus does not conceal that he is the Christ, and yet he does not teach them as if they were willing to learn, but rather reproaches them with obstinate malice, because, though they had been taught by the word and works of God, they had not yet made any progress. Accordingly, that they do not know him, he imputes to their own fault, as if he said: “My doctrine is easily enough understood, but the blame lies with you, because you maliciously resist God.” The works which I do. He speaks of his works, in order to convict them of being doubly obstinate; for, besides the doctrine, they had a striking testimony in his miracles, if they had not been ungrateful to God. He twice repeats the words, You do not believe, in order to prove that, of their own accord, they were deaf to doctrine, and blind to works; which is a proof of extreme and desperate malice. He says that he did the works in the name of his Father; because his design was, to testify the power of God in them, by which it might be openly declared that he came from God.
26. Because you are not of my sheep. He assigns a higher reason why they do not believe either in his miracles or in his doctrine. It is, because they are reprobate. We must observe Christ’s design; for, since they boasted of being the Church of God, that their unbelief may detract nothing from the authority of the Gospel, he affirms that the gift of believing is a special gift. And, indeed, before that men know God, they must first be known by him, as Paul says, (Gal. iv. 9.) On the other hand, those to whom God does not look must always continue to look away from him. If any one murmur at this, arguing that the cause of unbelief dwells in God, because he alone has power to make sheep; I reply, He is free from all blame, for it is only by their voluntary malice that men reject his grace. God does all that is necessary to induce them to believe, but who shall tame wild beasts? This will never be done, till the Spirit of God change them into sheep They who are wild will in vain attempt to throw on God the blame of their wildness, for it belongs to their own nature. In short, Christ means that it is not wonderful, if there are few who obey his Gospel, because all whom the Spirit of God does not subdue to the obedience of faith are wild and fierce beasts. So much the more unreasonable and absurd is it, that the authority of the Gospel should depend on the belief of men; but believers ought rather to consider, that they are the more strongly bound to God, because, while others remain in a state of blindness, they are drawn to Christ by the illumination of the Spirit. Here, too, the ministers of the Gospel have ground of consolation, if their labor be not profitable to all.
—John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries Volume XVII, Commentary on the Gospel according to John, Volume I (Baker Books, 2009), 414–415.
One hundred and ten years ago today, Anglican minister John Charles Ryle went home (The 110th Anniversary of J.C. Ryle’s Death). I suggest you observe the day by tossing out that cute little devotional you’ve been reading and picking up a set of Ryle’s Expository Thoughts on the Gospels. I can’t imagine a better daily devotional, short enough for daily reading, but long enough to say more than a T-shirt. The following sample is from his exposition of John 11:17–29.
The root of a happy religion is clear, distinct, well-defined knowledge of Jesus Christ. More knowledge would have saved Martha many sighs and tears. Knowledge alone no doubt, if unsanctified, only “puffeth up.” (1 Cor. vii. 1.) Yet without clear knowledge of Christ in all His offices we cannot expect to be established in the faith, and steady in the time of need.
—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007) [Westminster (PB) | Amazon (HC)].
I hate to travel. Nevertheless, here I am, about to hit the road again, headed for the third time this year to Wisconsin. Don’t get me wrong: I like cheese, but this is ridiculous. Anyway, I haven’t much time this morning. I could just as well have skipped blogging today, but for a matter that has been weighing heavily on my mind lately.
Summer is here. You will no doubt be indulging in summeryish refreshments, many of them frozen. I’m an ice cream man, myself. You’re welcome to go with all those frozen substitutes that lend the illusion that you’re watching your weight, but you’re only fooling yourself, and missing out on frozen desserts as God created them in the Garden. Oh well, whatever; comme ci comme ça, I suppose. Anyway, on to the essential point. As you eat your ice cream substitute, be aware that there are people all around you — well, there’s at least one of us them, anyway — who have for years been tolerating ignorance as well as they can, but have almost reached the breaking point. They are on the verge of one of those disgruntled-postal-worker rampages, and all it will take to set them off is the utterance of one word:
sherbert
It’s sherbet. Not sherbert, and certainly not — saints and angels preserve us! — sherbert ice cream.
Sherbet. Not sherbert, not ice cream. Practice it: shər-bĕt shər-bĕt shər-bĕt. Like it’s a shər-bĕt that, Favre or no Favre, the Vikings are never going to the Superbowl. Like it’s a shər-bĕt that Obama will want more of your money tomorrow, and it’s a shər-bĕt that there will never be anything to show for it. Like it’s a shər-bĕt that someone will want to correct my conflation of “sure” and “shər-,” and it’s a shər-bĕt that I will bless them for it.
I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”
Consider Christina Rossetti (1830–1894)
Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:— We are as they; Like them we fade away, As does the leaf.
Consider
The sparrows of the air of small account:
Our God doth view
Whether they fall or mount,—
He guards us too.
Consider
The lilies that neither spin nor toil,
Yet are most fair:—
What profits all this care
And all this coil?
Consider
The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks;
God gives them food:—
Much more our Father seeks
To do us good.
—Christina Rossetti, Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 1993).
John 11:30–37
Now Jesus had not yet come into the village, but was still in the place where Martha met Him. 31 Then the Jews who were with her in the house, and consoling her, when they saw that Mary got up quickly and went out, they followed her, supposing that she was going to the tomb to weep there. 32 Therefore, when Mary came where Jesus was, she saw Him, and fell at His feet, saying to Him, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33 When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and was troubled, 34 and said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to Him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus wept. 36 So the Jews were saying, “See how He loved him!” 37 But some of them said, “Could not this man, who opened the eyes of the blind man, have kept this man also from dying?”
Not many passages in the New Testament are more wonderful than the simple narrative contained in these eight verses. It brings out, in a most beautiful light, the sympathizing character of our Lord Jesus Christ. It shows us Him who is “able to save to the uttermost all who come to God by Him,” as able to feel as He is to save. It shows us Him who is One with the Father, and the Maker of all things, entering into human sorrows, and shedding human tears. We learn, for one thing, in these verses, how great a blessing God sometimes bestows on actions of kindness and sympathy. It seems that the house of Martha and Mary at Bethany was filled with mourners when Jesus arrived. Many of these mourners, no doubt, knew nothing of the inner life of these holy women. Their faith, their hope, their love to Christ, their discipleship, were things of which they were wholly ignorant. But they felt for them in their heavy bereavement, and kindly came to offer what comfort they could. By so doing they reaped a rich and unexpected reward. They beheld the greatest miracle that Jesus ever wrought. They were eye-witnesses when Lazarus came forth from the tomb. To many of them, we may well believe, that day was a spiritual birth. The raising of Lazarus led to a resurrection in their souls. How small sometimes are the hinges on which eternal life appears to depend! If these people had not sympathized they might never have been saved. We need not doubt that these things were written for our learning. To show sympathy and kindness to the sorrowful is good for our own souls, whether we know it or not. To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, to weep with those who weep, to try to bear one another’s burdens, and lighten one another’s cares,—all this will make no atonement for sin, and will not take us to heaven. Yet it is healthy employment for our hearts, and employment which none ought to despise. Few perhaps are aware that one secret of being miserable is to live only for ourselves, and one secret of being happy is to try to make others happy, and to do a little good in the world. It is not for nothing that these words were written by Solomon, “It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting.”—“The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.” (Eccl. vii. 2, 4.) The saying of our Lord is too much overlooked: “Whoever shall give to drink to one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you he shall in no wise lose his reward.” (Matt. x. 42.) The friends of Martha and Mary found that promise wonderfully verified. In an age of inordinate selfishness and self-indulgence, it would be well if they had more imitators. We learn, for another thing, what a depth of tender sympathy there is in Christ’s heart towards His people. We read that when our Lord saw Mary weeping, and the Jews also weeping with her, “He groaned in the spirit and was troubled.” We read even more than this. He gave outward expression to His feelings: He “wept.” He knew perfectly well that the sorrow of the family of Bethany would soon be turned into joy, and that Lazarus in a few minutes would be restored to his sisters. But though he knew all this, he “wept.” This weeping of Christ is deeply instructive. It shows us that it is not sinful to sorrow. Weeping and mourning are sadly trying to flesh and blood, and make us feel the weakness of our mortal nature. But they are not in themselves wrong. Even the Son of God wept.—It shows us that deep feeling is not a thing of which we need be ashamed. To be cold and stoical and unmoved in the sight of sorrow is no sign of grace. There is nothing unworthy of a child of God in tears. Even the Son of God could weep. It shows us, above all, that the Saviour in whom believers trust is a most tender and feeling Saviour. He is one who can be touched with sympathy for our infirmities. When we turn to Him in the hour of trouble, and pour out our hearts before Him, He knows what we go through and can pity. And He is One who never changes. Though He now sits at God’s right hand in heaven, His heart is still the same that it was upon earth. We have an Advocate with the Father, who, when He was upon earth, could weep. Let us remember these things in daily life, and never be ashamed of walking in our Master’s footsteps. Let us strive to be men and women of a tender heart and a sympathizing spirit. Let us never be ashamed to weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those who rejoice. Well would it be for the Church and the world if there were more Christians of this stamp and character! The Church would be far more beautiful, and the world be far more happy.
—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007) [Westminster (PB) | Amazon (HC)].
I didn’t read your email this morning. The salutation was enough to tell me I wasn’t interested in whatever it is you’re selling/offering/asking for. “Dear Christ-follower,” you wrote. Well, I certainly am a follower of Christ, but . . .
I am a Christian. I know that title is frequently misused, but it’s the title the English-speaking church has used for centuries. The title does not embarrass me; I have spent not one second trying to think of a better one. When I use it, I identify myself not only with Christ, but with his bride. When you eschew that title, you disconnect yourself from thousands of saints who had no interest in worldly relevance. They didn’t care if the world thought they were cool. In fact, they knew the world would always hate them, no matter what.
But, speaking of relevance and cool, calling yourself a Christ-follower doesn’t make you more attractive to the world. It just makes you a different brand of weirdo. That is, unless along with “Christian” you jettison the historic, biblical Christian faith — which is what every “Christ-follower” I have ever encountered has done. In that case, the world may very well love you and join you on your couches surrounded by candles, looking at each other through your oh-so-cool square black glasses resting between your messy hair and scruffy whiskers (<irony>the current uniform of the non-conformist</irony>), having a “conversation” about a fictitious Jesus.
Getting back to identification, I want to be identified with the thousands of faithful saints throughout the history of the church who have loved God and his Word, who have loved my Lord as he is revealed in Scripture. When you call me a “Christ-follower,” you are identifying me with a movement that rejects Scripture, the Christ of the Bible, and the Church, his bride — even if that does not describe you. Please, don’t do that.
I follow Christ; that is true. But I am a Christian.
In the process of argumentifying, people often come back around on their original proposition. For example, a, therefore b; b, therefore c; c, therefore a. This is basically the rhetorical equivalent of the time some older kids nearly convinced me that, if I was strong enough, I could stand on a rope and, holding each end in my hands, lift myself. In case you’re wondering, that doesn’t work. Two equal forces — if indeed I had been able to exert a force equal to my own weight — cancel each other. Two assertions, each supported only by the other, both fall.
Which is just a pseudo-intellectual way of segueing from nothing to say into something else.
The logical fallacy described above is called “circular reasoning”; surely you can see why. What happens, though, when one engages in circular linking? I know what you’re thinking, and you are quite correct: you might learn something about sanctification.
John 11:4 But when Jesus heard this, He said, “This sickness is not to end in death, but for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by it.”
Once again, Jesus identifies himself with the Father. God’s glory is his glory, demonstrating the truth that the only true religion is found exclusively in him. Calvin comments:
For the glory, of God, that the Son of God may be glorified. This expression is highly emphatic; for we learn from it that God wishes to be acknowledged in the person of his Son in such a manner, that all the reverence which he requires to be given to his own majesty may be ascribed to the Son. Hence we were told formerly, He who doth not honour the Son doth not honour the Father, (John v. 23.) It is in vain for Mahometans and Jews, therefore, to pretend to worship God; for they blaspheme against Christ, and even endeavour, in this manner, to rob God of himself.
—John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries Volume XVII, Commentary on the Gospel according to John, Volume I (Baker Books, 2009), 426.
As linked earlier this week in the sidebar, Ligonier Ministries are live streaming video of their 2010 National Conference. That’s what I hope to be doing for at least part of today. For some reason, though, I’m not getting it. The web page informs me that I am “now watching Ed Stetzer: The Brave New World of New Media,” but I’m really not watching anything. So here is your reminder to check out the conference if you can, and if you can, maybe you can tell me why I can’t. Mange takk.
Update: Never mind. The site now says that I am “now watching Tim Challies: Principles for Conduct in Communication,” and indeed I am. His collar is messed up, and I can hardly understand him through that thick Canadian accent*. And that’s the extent of my live-blogging.
* Does anyone know how to properly write the pronunciation (dictionary style) of “out” and “about” as spoken by Canadians? I need to know if I am to properly mock my northern friends.
Friday is (usually) dedicated to the promotion and defense of liberty.
Last weekend, I had a friendly, but very revealing, discussion about homeschooling with some folks I will leave unidentified. The conversation was at first very general, not at all polemic, talking about how the kids were doing, what subjects I liked best to teach, and so on. Then one of the other parties pointed out, as someone nearly always does, that they knew of homeschoolers who were doing a positively shameful job of it. I acknowledged that those people do, unfortunately, exist, but then, who can deny that there are public school teachers, and even entire school systems, that fail miserably as well, and that the average homeschool student excels beyond the average public school student? There was agreement, and the observation was made that several recent academic competitions — spelling and geography bees — that they knew of had been won by homeschoolers.
Still, it needed to be restated, some homeschoolers do a really lousy job. And then out came what really needed to be said: there should be some testing — by the government, of course (in Wisconsin, where we were, there is none) — to assure that the homeschool is up to snuff.
Now, a word about the parties involved: I have known them literally all my life; they are nice people, generally “good” people and pleasant to be around. In spite of very serious disagreements, I really like them. They are also yellow-dog Democrats and children of the state. That is, wherever the Democratic party goes is a priori right, and if anything is a good thing to do, the government has the responsibility and authority to do it. The corollary to that is that the Republicans are evil. Any political discussion inevitably leads to thinly veiled proletariat vs. bourgeois language. So I was not at all surprised that they favored government regulation of, well, anything. In fact, the moment they brought up homeschooling, I knew that was coming.
What I was not prepared for, though I really should have been, was what followed. Rather than argue about government regulation of homeschooling, I attempted to get down to the fundamental issue: liberty. Are we wards of the State, servants of the State, or are we a free people? Do we trade our liberty for perceived pragmatic benefits? Finally, I brought it back to the original topic. “What do you value more,” I asked, “education, or liberty?” The answer was stunning, and by now you know what it was: education, of course.
Now I’m trying to imagine Patrick Henry declaring, “Give me a taxpayer-funded government-regulated education, or give me death!”
Last week I announced the final drawing for a free copy of The Holiness of God by R. C. Sproul, and this morning I notified the winner of that drawing. I want to thank all who participated for reading and for the many encouraging words I received in the process.
Now I want to share a little about how and why I did it. First, the how.
Had I purchased a dozen copies from Amazon, they would have been $10.07 each, $120.84 total. Add $7.20 sales tax (free shipping), and my mailing costs, and the total cost comes to $165.44. Spread over twelve weeks, that’s not really so much, but it’s more than I would have spent. However, through a program called Books by the Box, I was able to purchase a case of twelve for a pre-publication price of $20.00 (current price, $28.00). So the cost of the project added up thusly:
The Holiness of God (case of 12 + shipping) ... 30.80 mailing envelopes ............................. 13.20 Postage ....................................... 25.20 $69.20
That’s $69.20 over twelve weeks, or only $5.77 per week. Many of you spend loads more than that on your putrid Starbucks sludge, the point being that you could brew your own coffee at home or in your office for a tiny fraction of what you now spend, and spread some good theology around without straining your budget at all. And you wouldn’t have to spend a nickel on postage and handling if you just gave to your family, friends, neighbors, or your church and local libraries.
Now, the why. This should be obvious: I just want people to read good books that will help them to grow in the knowledge of God and his gospel, to edify them and build them up in the faith. And what of those who, as yet, have no faith? Well, one book every Christian should have on hand to give away is the Bible. I ordered a box of 10 NASBs from CBD last year for about $2/copy. I don’t see any deals like that right now, but I did find The ESV Outreach New Testament for $.99, or 10 or more for $.79 each. The ESV Bible, Outreach Edition is $5.49, $4.99 for 10 or more, or $4.12 for slightly imperfect copies. I’d love any tips from you on sources of cheap books.
It is truly a blessing to give, especially when giving that which is able to save souls.
I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”
Thou hast made me John Donne (1572–1631)
Thou hast made me, and shall thy worke decay? Repaire me now, for now mine end doth haste, I runne to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday, I dare not move my dimme eyes any way, Despaire behind, and death before doth cast Such terrour, and my feeble flesh doth waste By sinne in it, which it t’wards hell doth weigh; Onely thou art above, and when towards thee By thy leave I can looke, I rise againe; But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, That not one houre my selfe I can sustain, Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art, And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart.
So Jesus, again being deeply moved within, came to the tomb. Now it was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Remove the stone.” Martha, the sister of the deceased, said to Him, “Lord, by this time there will be a stench, for he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not say to you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” 41 So they removed the stone Then Jesus raised His eyes, and said, “Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. 42 I knew that You always hear Me; but because of the people standing around I said it, so that they may believe that You sent Me.” 43 When He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth.” 44 The man who had died came forth, bound hand and foot with wrappings, and his face was wrapped around with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” 45 Therefore many of the Jews who came to Mary, and saw what He had done, believed in Him. 46 But some of them went to the Pharisees and told them the things which Jesus had done.
These verses record one of the greatest miracles the Lord Jesus Christ ever worked, and supply an unanswerable proof of His divinity. He whose voice could bring back from the grave one that had been four days dead, must indeed have been very God! The miracle itself is described in such simple language that no human comment can throw light upon it. But the sayings of our Lord on this occasion are peculiarly interesting, and demand special notice. We should mark, first, our Lord’s words about the stone which lay upon the grave of Lazarus.* We read that He said to those around Him, when he came to the place of burial, “Take ye away the stone.” Now why did our Lord say this? It was doubtless as easy for Him to command the stone to roll away untouched as to call a dead body from the tomb. But such was not His mode of proceeding. Here, as in other cases, He chose to give man something to do. Here, as elsewhere, He taught the great lesson that His almighty power was not meant to destroy man’s responsibility. Even when He was ready and willing to raise the dead, He would not have man stand by altogether idle. Let us treasure up this in our memories. It involves a point of great importance. In doing spiritual good to others,—in training up our children for heaven,—in following after holiness in our own daily walk,—in all these things it is undoubtedly true that we are weak and helpless. “Without Christ we can do nothing.” But still we must remember that Christ expects us to do what we can. “Take ye away the stone” is the daily command which He gives us. Let us beware that we do not stand still in idleness, under the pretense of humility. Let us daily try to do what we can, and in the trying Christ will meet us and grant His blessing. We should mark, secondly, the words which our Lord addressed to Martha, when she objected to the stone being removed from the grave. The faith of this holy woman completely broke down, when the cave where her beloved brother lay was about to be thrown open. She could not believe that it was of any use. “Lord,” she cries, “by this time he stinketh.” And then comes in the solemn reproof of our Lord: “Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldest believe thou shouldest see the glory of God?” That sentence is rich in meaning. It is far from unlikely that it contains a reference to the message which had been sent to Martha and Mary, when their brother first fell sick. It may be meant to remind Martha that her Master had sent her word, “This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God.” But it is perhaps more likely that our Lord desired to recall to Martha’s mind the old lesson He had taught her all through His ministry, the duty of always believing. It is as though He said, “Martha, Martha, thou art forgetting the great doctrine of faith, which I have ever taught thee. Believe, and all will be well. Fear not: only believe.” The lesson is one which we can never know too well. How apt our faith is to break down in time of trial! How easy it is to talk of faith in the days of health and prosperity, and how hard to practice it in the days of darkness, when neither sun, moon, nor stars appear! Let us lay to heart what our Lord says in this place. Let us pray for such stores of inward faith, that when our turn comes to suffer, we may suffer patiently and believe all is well. The Christian who has ceased to say, “I must see, and then I will believe,” and has learned to say, “I believe, and by and by I shall see,” has reached a high degree in the school of Christ. We should mark, thirdly, the words which our Lord addressed to God the Father, when the stone was taken from the grave. We read that He said, “Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard Me. And I knew that Thou hearest Me always: but because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that Thou hast sent Me.” This wonderful language is totally unlike anything said by Prophets or Apostles, when they worked miracles. In fact, it is not prayer, but praise. It evidently implies a constant mysterious communion going on between Jesus and His Father in heaven, which it is past the power of man either to explain or conceive. We need not doubt that here, as elsewhere in St. John, our Lord meant to teach the Jews the entire and complete unity there was between Him and His Father, in all that He did, as well as in all that He taught. Once more He would remind those who he did not come among them as a mere Prophet, but as the Messiah who was sent by the Father, and who was one with the Father. Once more He would have them know that as the words which He spoke were the very words which the Father gave Him to speak, so the works which He wrought were the very works which the Father gave Him to do. In short, He was the promised Messiah, whom the Father always hears, because He and the Father are One. Deep and high as this truth is, it is for the peace of our souls to believe it thoroughly, and to grasp it tightly. Let it be a settled principle of our religion, that the Saviour in whom we trust is nothing less than eternal God, One whom the Father hears always, One who in very deed is God’s Fellow. A clear view of the dignity of our Mediator’s Person is one secret of inward comfort. Happy is he who can say, “I know whom I have believed, and that He is able to keep that which I have committed to Him.” (2 Tim. i. 12.) We should mark, lastly, the words which our Lord addressed to Lazarus when he raised him from the grave. We read that “He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth!” At the sound of that voice, the king of terrors at once yielded up his lawful captive, and the insatiable grave gave up its prey. At once “He that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave-clothes.” The greatness of this miracle cannot possibly be exaggerated. The mind of man can scarcely take in the vastness of the work that was done. Here, in open day, and before many hostile witnesses, a man, four days dead, was restored to life in a moment. Here was public proof that our Lord had absolute power over the material world! A corpse, already corrupt, was made alive!—Here was public proof that our Lord had absolute power over the world of spirits! A soul that had left its earthly tenement was called back from Paradise, and joined once more to its owner’s body.—Well may the Church of Christ maintain that He who could work such works was “God over all blessed forever.” (Rom. ix. 5.) Let us turn from the whole passage with thoughts of comfort and consolation. Comfortable is the thought that the loving Saviour of sinners, on whose mercy our souls entirely depend, is one who has all power in heaven, and earth, and is mighty to save.—Comfortable is the thought that there is no sinner too far gone in sin for Christ to raise and convert. He that stood by the grave of Lazarus can say to the vilest of men, “Come forth: loose him, and let him go.”—Comfortable, not least, is the thought that when we ourselves lie down in the grave, we may lie down in the full assurance that we shall rise again. The voice that called Lazarus forth will one day pierce our tombs, and bid soul and body come together. “The trumpets shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.” (1 Cor. xv. 52.)
—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007) [Westminster (PB) | Amazon (HC)].
* Here, I believe Ryle makes a point where there is none. It is certainly a good point, and biblical, but I do not believe it is found in this text.
I’ve been sitting on this post for a couple of weeks, wondering if it is needlessly contentious. Perhaps it is, but having nothing else to say today, I’m posting it anyway. Warning: At the time of this writing, I had loosed my inner curmudgeon.
It was predictable. Tim Challies posted a nice review of The Search for God and Guinness by Stephen Mansfield, the beer alarm went off, and ignorant legalism abounded in the comments. The most ignorant of all are those who actually believe alcohol consumption is sinful. Most are not that ignorant. But admitting, as we must and most will, that Scripture does not forbid it, there will still always be a vocal bunch who say we ought to avoid offending the so-called “weaker brother.”
So I’ll just come right out and say it:
Christians who want to drink — I’m thinking particularly of believers in the United States — should just do it, pretty much wherever they are, no matter who is looking. Forget about offending Christians who don’t like it.
About this time in 2006, I wrote a series of posts on the subject of alcohol consumption called God Gave C2H6O. At that time, I had a much more conciliatory attitude toward Christian prohibitionists than I do now. That is not to say that I was very soft on them then; I wasn’t. However, I have had several occasions during the last four years to consider whether I should be a little more accommodating, and each time, I have come to the same conclusion: no, I should not. In fact, I am convinced I should be less accommodating than I have been. I don’t mean that I want to be cantankerous and start arguments about it; I don’t even want to talk very much about. I mean that I’m through looking around and wondering who might be offended, and altering my behavior accordingly.
Read John Piper on Why Was Timothy Circumcised?* If you understand Piper’s reasoning of why Titus was not circumcised, you’ll understand why I don’t think we should cater to the feelings of legalists in the church.
It’s a gospel issue.
So here is my response to Christian prohibitionists and abstentionists, à la Galatians 5:11–13: I wish you would stop drinking altogether, and dehydrate completely.
As I’ve been arranging books on my new shelves, I’ve been unable to resist looking through several of them on the way. Picking up a previously-read book is like visiting an old friend. Old memories are shared, and past conversations are repeated. The memories are not always good, but the sharing usually is.
Such was the case when I spied a couple of bookmarks left behind in The Pursuit of holiness by Jerry Bridges, a book I read last year, but never blogged. At the first bookmark, this old friend brought me a Proverbs 27:6 moment.
How do we view those who do not show love for us? Do we see them as persons for whom Christ died or as persons who make our lives difficult? I recall an unpleasant business encounter once with a person who later became a Christian through another’s witness. When I learned of this, I was deeply chagrined to reflect on the fact that I had never once thought of him as a person for whom Christ died, but only as someone with whom I had an unpleasant experience. We need to learn to follow the example of Christ, who was moved with compassion for sinners and who could pray for them even as they nailed him to the cross on Calvary.
Would you believe that the failure of Christians to achieve victory over sin is caused by their desire and efforts to achieve victory over sin? I know, the suggestion smacks of quietism, the “let go and let God” mindset that should be quickly discarded as the pseudo-spiritual rubbish it is. But stay with me; the point is not to dismiss the desire for victory as wrong, but to examine our motivation. Our motives for defeating sin can actually be sinful. Jerry Bridges explains this paradox:
If holiness, then, is so basic to the Christian life, why do we not experience it more in daily living? Why do so many Christians feel constantly defeated in their struggle with sin? Why does the Church of Jesus Christ so often seem to be more conformed to the world around it than to God? At the risk of oversimplification, the answers to these questions can be grouped into three basic problem areas. Our first problem is that our attitude toward sin is more self-centered than God centered. We are more concerned about our “victory” over sin than we are about the fact that our sins grieve the heart of God. We cannot tolerate failure in our struggle with sin chiefly because we are success-oriented, not because we know it is offensive to God. W. S. Plumer said, “We never see sin aright until we see it as against God. . . . All is sin against God in this sense: that it is His law that is broken, His authority that is despised, His government that is set at naught. . . . Pharaoh and Balaam, Saul and Judas each said, ‘I have sinned’; but the returning prodigal son said, ‘I have sinned against heaven and before thee’; and David said, ‘Against Thee, Thee only have I sinned.’” God wants us to act in obedience—not victory. Obedience it oriented toward God; victory is oriented toward self. This may seem to be merely splitting hairs over semantics, but there is a subtle, self centered attitude at the root of many of our difficulties with sin. Until we face this attitude and deal with it we will not consistently walk in holiness. This is not to say that God does not want us to experience victory, but rather to emphasize that victory is a byproduct of obedience. As we concentrate on living an obedient, holy life, we will certainly experience the joy of victory over sin.
Still just following the bookmarks left behind from my reading of The Pursuit of Holiness last year.
It is time for us Christians to face up our responsibility for holiness. Too often we say we are “defeated” by this or that sin. No, we are not defeated; we are simply disobedient! It might be good if we stopped using the terms “victory” and “defeat” to describe our progress in holiness. Rather we should use the terms “obedience” and “disobedience”. When I say I am defeated by some sin, I am unconsciously slipping out from under my responsibility. I am saying something outside of me has defeated me. But when I say I am disobedient, that places the responsibility for my sin squarely on me. We may, in fact, be defeated, but the reason we are defeated is because we have chosen to disobey. We have chosen to entertain lustful thoughts, or the harbor resentment, or to shade the truth a little. We need to brace ourselves up and to realize that we are responsible for our thoughts, attitudes, and actions. We need to reckon on the fact that we died to sin’s reign, that it no longer has any dominion over us, that God has united us with the risen Christ in all His power, and has given us the Holy Spirit to work in us. Only as we accept our responsibility and appropriate God’s provisions will we make any progress in our pursuit of holiness.
Jerry Bridges on why our feelings are not a good guide, and what we should do about it:
Not only must we guard our minds, we must also guard our emotions. To do this, it is helpful to realize that while God most often appeals to our wills through our reason, sin and Satan usually appeal to us through our desires. This is the strategy he employed with Eve (Genesis 3:1-6). He attacked her reason by questioning God’s integrity, but his primary temptation was to her desire. We read that Eve saw the tree was good for food, it was a delight to the eyes, and desirable for making one wise (Genesis 3:6). Knowing that Satan attacks primarily through our desires, we should watch over them diligently and bring the Word of God to bear on them constantly. This is not asceticism; it is spiritual prudence. Each of us should be aware of how sin attacks us through our desires and take preventive actions. This is what Paul instructed Timothy to do when he instructed him to “flee from the evil desires of youth” (2 Timothy 2:22). But the guarding of our desires is more than fighting a rear-guard defensive action against temptations from the world, the flesh, and the Devil. We must take the offensive. Paul directs us to set our hearts on things above, that is, spiritual values (Colossians 3:1). The psalmist encourages us to delight ourselves in the law of God (Psalm 1:2), and it was said prophetically of Jesus, “I delight to do thy will, O my God” (Psalm 40:8, NASB). So we see that we are to set our minds on spiritual things and delight ourselves in the law and will of God.
The other day, as I was going through and arranging my bookshelves (still!), I picked up the hymnal used by the church body into which I was born. If you were to ask me to name the most valuable memory of my religious upbringing, I think I might name those hymns. While I am no longer affiliated with that body, I would gladly import its fine, doctrinal hymnody into my present situation. The hymnal is The Concordia Hymnal, sadly out of print today. As I browsed through its pages, it struck me that many of the hymns I remembered, I had not heard outside of that little Lutheran church of my youth. I have decided to use Saturdays to post some of those hymns, both as a preparation for Lord’s Day worship, and to help preserve a disappearing treasure.
The following hymn seems to be especially obscure. I don’t have it in my considerable collection of hymn recordings, and I can’t find an audio or video performance online anywhere. The tune found at Cyberhymnal is close, but not exactly that found in the Concordia. I hesitate to link to it, as the MIDI recording makes me suicidal. Click at your own risk.
1 All glory be to Thee, Most High
All glory be to Thee, Most High,
To Thee all adoration;
In grace and truth Thou drawest nigh
To offer us salvation;
Thou showest Thy good will to men,
And peace shall reign on earth again;
We praise Thy Name forever.
We praise, we worship Thee, we trust
And give Thee thanks forever,
O Father, for Thy rule is just
And wise, and changes never;
Thy hand almighty o’er us reigns,
Thou doest what Thy will ordains;
’Tis well for us Thou rulest.
O Jesus Christ, our God and Lord,
Son of the Heavn’ly Father,
O Thou Who hast our peace restored,
The straying sheep dost gather,
Thou Lamb of God, to Thee on high
Out of depths we sinners cry:
Have mercy on us, Jesus!
O Holy Spirit, precious gift,
Thou Comforter unfailing,
From Satan’s snares our souls uplift,
And let Thy power, availing,
Avert our woes and calm our dread.
For us the Savior’s blood was shed;
We trust in Thee to save us.
Therefore the chief priests and the Pharisees convened a council, and were saying, “What are we doing? For this man is performing many signs. 48 If we let Him go on like this, all men will believe in Him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.” 49 But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all, 50 nor do you take into account that it is expedient for you that one man die for the people, and that the whole nation not perish.” 51 Now he did not say this on his own initiative, but being high priest that year, he prophesied that Jesus was going to die for the nation, 52 and not for the nation only, but in order that He might also gather together into one the children of God who are scattered abroad. 53 So from that day on they planned together to kill Him. 54 Therefore Jesus no longer continued to walk publicly among the Jews, but went away from there to the country near the wilderness, into a city called Ephraim; and there He stayed with the disciples. 55 Now the Passover of the Jews was near, and many went up to Jerusalem out of the country before the Passover to purify themselves. 56 So they were seeking for Jesus, and were saying to one another as they stood in the temple, “What do you think; that He will not come to the feast at all?” 57 Now the chief priests and the Pharisees had given orders that if anyone knew where He was, he was to report it, so that they might seize Him.
These concluding verses of the eleventh chapter of John contain a melancholy picture of human nature. As we turn away from Jesus Christ and the grave at Bethany, and look at Jerusalem and the rulers of the Jews, we may well say, “Lord, what is man?” We should observe, for one thing, in these verses, the desperate wickedness of man’s natural heart. A mighty miracle was wrought within an easy walk of Jerusalem. A man four days dead was raised to life, in the sight of many witnesses. The fact was unmistakable, and could not be denied; and yet the chief priests and Pharisees would not believe that He who did this miracle ought to be received as the Messiah. In the face of overwhelming evidence they shut their eyes, and refused to be convinced. “This man,” they admitted, “does many miracles.” But so far from yielding to this testimony, they only plunged into further wickedness, and “took counsel to put Him to death.” Great, indeed, is the power of unbelief! Let us beware of supposing that miracles alone have any power to convert men’s souls, and to make them Christians. The idea is a complete delusion. To fancy, as some do, that if they saw something wonderful done before their eyes in confirmation of the Gospel, they would at once cast off all indecision and serve Christ, is a mere idle dream. It is the grace of the Spirit in our hearts, and not miracles, that our souls require. The Jews of our Lord’s day are a standing proof to mankind that men may see signs and wonders, and yet remain hard as stone. It is a deep and true saying, “If men believe not Moses and the Prophets, neither would they be persuaded though one rose from the dead.” (Luke xvi. 31.) We must never wonder if we see abounding unbelief in our own times, and around our own homes. It may seem at first unexplainable to us, how men cannot see the truth which seems so clear to ourselves, and do not receive the Gospel which appears so worthy of acceptance. But the plain truth is, that man’s unbelief is a far more deeply seated disease than it is generally reckoned. It is proof against the logic of facts, against reasoning, against argument, against moral persuasion. Nothing can melt it down but the grace of God. If we ourselves believe, we can never be too thankful. But we must never count it a strange thing, if we see many of our fellows just as hardened and unbelieving as the Jews. We should observe, for another thing, the blind ignorance with which God’s enemies often act and reason. These rulers of the Jews said to one another, “If we let this Christ alone we shall be ruined. If we do not stop His course, and make an end of His miracles, the Romans will interfere, and make an end of our nation.” Never, the event afterward proved, was there a more short-sighted and erring judgment than this. They rushed madly on the path they had chosen, and the very thing they feared came to pass. They did not leave our Lord alone, but crucified and slew Him. And what happened then? After a few years, the very calamity they had dreaded took place: the Roman armies did come, destroyed Jerusalem, burned the temple, and carried away the whole nation into captivity. The well-read Christian need hardly be reminded of many such like things in the history of Christ’s Church. The Roman emperors persecuted the Christians in the first three centuries, and thought it a positive duty not to let them alone. But the more they persecuted them, the more they increased. The blood of the martyrs became the seed of the Church.—The English Papists, in the days of Queen Mary, persecuted the Protestants, and thought that truth was in danger if they were let alone. But the more they burned our forefathers, the more they confirmed men’s minds in steadfast attachment to the doctrines of the Reformation.—In short, the words of the second Psalm are continually verified in this world: “The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord.” But “He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh; the Lord shall have them in derision.” God can make the designs of His enemies work together for the good of His people, and cause the wrath of man to praise Him. In days of trouble, and rebuke, and blasphemy, believers may rest patiently in the Lord. The very things that at one time seem likely to hurt them, shall prove in the end to be for their gain. We should observe, lastly, what importance bad men sometimes attach to outward ceremonial, while their hearts are full of sin. We are told that many Jews “went up out of the country to Jerusalem, before the Passover, to purify themselves.” The most of them, it may be feared, neither knew nor cared anything about inward purity of heart. They made much ado about the washings, and fastings, and ascetic observances, which formed the essence of popular Jewish religion in our Lord’s time; and yet they were willing in a very few days to shed innocent blood. Strange as it may appear, these very sticklers for outward ceremonies were found ready to do the will of the Pharisees, and to put their own Messiah to a violent death. Extremes like this meeting together in the same person are, unhappily, far from uncommon. Experience shows that a bad conscience will often try to satisfy itself, by a show of zeal for the cause of religion, while the “weightier matters” of the faith are entirely neglected. The very same man who is ready to compass sea and land to attain ceremonial purity is often the very man, who, if he had fit opportunity, would not shrink from helping to crucify Christ. Startling as these assertions may seem, they are abundantly borne out by plain facts. The cities where Lent is kept at this day with the most extravagant strictness are the very cities where the carnival after Lent is a season of glaring excess and immorality. The people in some parts of Christendom, who make much ado one week about fasting and priestly absolution, are the very people who another week will think nothing of murder! These things are simple realities. The hideous inconsistency of the Jewish formalists in our Lord’s time has never been without a long succession of followers. Let us settle it firmly in our minds that a religion which expends itself in zeal for outward formalities is utterly worthless in God’s sight. The purity that God desires to see is not the purity of bodily washing and fasting, of holy water and self-imposed asceticism, but purity of heart. External worship and ceremonialism may “satisfy the flesh,” but they do not tend to promote real godliness. The standard of Christ’s kingdom must be sought in the sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matt. v. 8; Col. ii. 23.)
—J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (Baker Books, 2007) [Westminster (PB) | Amazon (HC)].
I watched this video of Joni Tada this morning, announcing that she has been diagnosed with cancer. You may already have seen this or heard of it elsewhere. If so, you know her surgery was scheduled for this morning. If you haven’t watched the video, I encourage you to do so now. Go ahead, we’ll wait for you.
I want you to notice one thing about Joni’s message. Joni knows that God is absolutely sovereign over his creation. She knows that nothing happens that God has not only allowed, but ordained. She knows, therefore, that God can be held responsible for everything that has happened in the past and is happening to her now. Yet nowhere will you find her remonstrating against God for her suffering. On the contrary, she testifies that “God only does things for my good, . . . things which will cause us to lean even harder on him.”
At a particularly low point in my life, I was told that it was “okay to be angry with God.” “He can take it” I was told; “he understands.” I have no doubt that Joni has received similar counsel at some point in her life. Thankfully, when I received that bit of “wisdom,” I had already been converted to the doctrines of grace and understood divine sovereignty. I was not angry with God — although, to my great frustration, few believed me — and understood how terribly wrong my counselors were. Certainly, God can “take it,” and he does indeed understand. But then, does he not understand those who commit the vilest of crimes? And what crime is more heinous than imputing unrighteousness to God? No, it is not “okay to be angry with God.”
Some of you may have suffered greatly in the past. Some of you may be suffering right now. The rest of you, well, just wait; your day is coming. When it comes, I hope you’ll be prepared to embrace your affliction as a righteous visitation from the hand of God, and that even though you may never understand the why.
In your suffering, consider the testimony and example of Joni. Even better, consider the words of Job: “Shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity?” Let what was said of Job also be said of you: “In all this Job did not sin with his lips.”
The “Great Awakening,” of which most of you are likely to have heard at least a little, was a movement that took place in the American Colonies in the early 1740s. Through the preaching of pastors and evangelists such as Jonathan Edwards and George Whitfield, thousands were led to repentance and faith in Christ. The Spirit of God was clearly at work in an extraordinary way. People being what they are, however, the movement was not without attending problems. Along with the emotions such a movement would naturally and properly incite came emotionalism. In response to that emotionalism came questions and challenges to the legitimacy of the awakening. The theologians of Yale College were divided between supporters of the movement and those who, due to the accompanying excesses, opposed it.
Jonathan Edwards supported the awakening, but recognized the reality of counterfeit revivals. In his commencement address at Yale in 1741, in which he expressed his support for the movement, he also addressed the nature of true revival. Steve Lawson writes,
In an exposition of John 4:1–6, Edwards identified five marks by which an authentic work of the Spirit is to be recognized. Such a true work, he said, “(1) raises [people’s] esteem of Jesus as Son of God and Savior of the world, (2) leads them to turn from their corruptions and lusts to the righteousness of God, (3) increases their regard for Holy Scripture, (4) establishes their minds in the objective truths of revealed religion, and (5) evokes genuine love for God and man.” Each of these, he believed, was present in the awakening. The message was published a month later under the title The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God (1741) and was given wide circulation.
Jonathan Edwards (via Steve Lawson) on death as a sanctifying agent:
To help himself value his time, Edwards determined to keep an eye on the final hour of his life—the hour in which he would stand on the threshold of his entrance into the presence of God. In resolution 7, Edwards vowed:
7. Resolved, never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if it were the last hour of my life.
This resolution was primarily intended to help Edwards in the mortification of his sin. He anticipated that asking himself whether he would engage in a particular activity if he had only one hour to live would help him steer clear of temptation. He was persuaded he would not want to pass into God’s presence after committing any sin. If he could say that he ought to avoid it at any point in his Christian walk. This perspective would restrain his sinful thoughts, activities, and words. Edwards often found much sanctifying value in focusing on the certainty of his death. When combating worldly thoughts, he wrote in his diary: “Sabbath morning, Sept. 1. When I am violently beset with worldly thought, for a relief, to think of death, and the doleful circumstances of it.” Thoughts of death turned his mind to eternal realities, making worldly temptations of the moment seem empty and unattractive. Living as if he was in his last hour helped him keep sinful things at a distance. Thoughts of death also helped Edwards keep a proper perspective on possessions. In his diary, he asked himself a probing question: “Monday, Feb.3. Let every thing have the value now which it will have upon a sick bed; and frequently, in my pursuits of whatever kind, let this question come into my mind. ‘How much shall I value this upon my death-bed?’” Edwards believed that contemplating his deathbed scene forced him to value what was most important in the present. Contemplating his death even helped Edwards prepare himself for death. Edwards recorded: “Friday morning, July 5. Last night, when thinking what I should wish I had done, that I had not done, if I was then to die; I thought I should wish, That I had been more importunate with God to fit me for death, and lead me into all truth, and that I might not be deceived about the state of my soul.” Though Edwards wrote these words as a teenager, in the full bloom of life, he wanted to be prepared to meet his Lord with His approval. Focusing upon the end of life had the effect of helping Edwards prioritize what was most important in his life. This perspective restrained his sinful thoughts, activities, and words. Further, it helped him choose the highest ends in life. Not all choices in the use of his time were between good and evil. Some of the most difficult choices were between good, better and best. Always living as if he were at the end of his life caused him to live for what is best, the glory of God.
It behoves thee thus to try thy ways when you consider how hypocrisy lies close in the heart. If thou beest not very careful, thou mayest easily pass a false judgement on thyself. They who were sent to search the cellar under the parliament, at first saw nothing but coals and winter provision; but, upon a review, when they came to throw away that stuff they found all [to be] but provision for the devil’s kitchen; then the mystery of iniquity was uncased, and the barrels of powder appeared.* How many are there, that from some duties of piety they perform, some seeming zeal they express in profession, presently cry omnia benè—all things are well, and are so kind to themselves as to vote themselves good Christians, who, did they but take the pains to throw these aside, might find a foul hypocrite at the bottom of them all. Hypocrisy often takes up her lodging next door to sincerity, and so she passes unfound—the soul not suspecting hell can be so near heaven. And as hypocrisy, so sincerity, is hard to be discovered. This grace often lies low in the heart, hid with infirmities, like the sweet violet in some valley, or near some brook, hid with thorns and nettles, so that there requires both care and wisdom, that we neither let the weed of hypocrisy stand nor pluck up the herb of grace in its stead.
When [the Pharisees] ask the blind man what is his opinion, they do so, not because they wish to abide by his judgment, or set any value on it, but because they hope that the man, struck with fear, will reply according to their wish. In this respect the Lord disappoints them; for when a poor man disregards their threatenings, and boldly maintains that Christ is a Prophet, we ought justly to ascribe it to the grace of God; so that this boldness is another miracle. And if he so boldly and freely acknowledged Christ to be a Prophet, though he did not as yet know that the Lord Jesus was the Son of God, how shameful is the treachery of those who, subdued by fear, either deny him, or are silent respecting him, though they know that he sitteth at the right hand of the Father, and that he will come thence to be the Judge of the whole world! Since this blind man did not quench a small spark of knowledge, we ought to endeavor that an open and full confession may blaze forth from the full brightness which has shone into our hearts. 
I am a 
Getting back to identification, I want to be identified with the thousands of faithful saints throughout the history of the church who have loved God and his Word, who have loved my Lord 
What I was not prepared for, though I really should have been, was what followed. Rather than argue about government regulation of homeschooling, I attempted to get down to the fundamental issue: liberty. Are we wards of the State, servants of the State, or are we a free people? Do we trade our liberty for perceived pragmatic benefits? Finally, I brought it back to the original topic. “What do you value more,” I asked, “education, or liberty?” The answer was stunning, and by now you know what it was: 
I runne to death, and death meets me as fast, 
How do we view those who do not show love for us? Do we see them as persons for whom Christ died or as persons who make our lives difficult? 
In an exposition of John 4:1–6, Edwards identified five marks by which an authentic work of the Spirit is to be recognized. Such a true work, he said, “(1) raises [people’s] esteem of Jesus as Son of God and Savior of the world, (2) leads them to turn from their corruptions and lusts to the righteousness of God, (3) increases their regard for Holy Scripture, (4) establishes their minds in the objective truths of revealed religion, and (5) evokes genuine love for God and man.” Each of these, he believed, was present in the awakening. The message was published a month later under the title 
