From John MacArthur’s 2006 Together for the Gospel message:

   Expository preaching that is theological is not easy. The stringent discipline required to interpret Scripture accurately is a constant burden, and the message we are required to proclaim is often offensive. Christ himself is a stone of stumbling and a rock of offense (Rom. 9:33; 1 Pet. 2:8). The message of the cross is a stumbling block to some (1 Cor. 1:23; Gal. 5:11) and mere foolishness to others (1 Cor. 1:23).
   But we are never permitted to trim the message or to tailor it to people’s preferences. Paul made this clear to Timothy at the end of chapter 3: “All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness” (2 Tim. 3:16). This is the Word to be preached: the whole counsel of God (cf. Acts 20:27).
   In chapter 1 Paul had told Timothy, “Retain the standard of sound words which you have heard from me” (v. 13). He was speaking of the revealed words of Scripture—all of it. He urged Timothy to “Guard . .  the treasure which has been entrusted to you” (v. 14). Then in chapter 2 he told him to study the Word and handle it accurately (v. 15). He then brings the epistle to its summit by urging him to proclaim God’s Word no matter what. So the entire task of the faithful minister revolves around the Word of God—guarding it, studing it, and proclaiming it.

—John MacArthur, Preaching the Cross (Crossway, 2007), 142.

The applications for us are multiple. The most obvious concerns how we should handle Scripture in our own study and witness. Less obvious, but more immediate and on point, concerns how we should receive the Word delivered to us by the shepherds of our churches.

Our pastors are called to work hard, diligently and faithfully studying, interpreting, explaining, and applying the Word for us. If they faithfully fulfill their calling, delivering the Word to us week after week, should we not also work hard to receive, understand, and apply it in our own lives?

Preaching the Cross is a collection of messages from the 2006 Together for the Gospel Conference. You can download the entire message from which today’s quote was taken here.

I make no apologies for the fact that I have certain litmus tests for those who would earn my respectful attention. For example, if an astronomer writes a book favoring geocentricity, I will automatically write him off as a nut. He will not be credible as an astronomer. Heliocentricity is (unlike — chuckle — global warming) an undeniable matter of fact.

Of far greater importance, and more interest to me, are theological litmus tests. I understand that there are disputable matters, but most of Scripture is quite clear, and there are some things that are beyond question. They are settled matters. If you can’t get them right, you will not earn my esteem as a teacher.

Consider Exhibit One: N. T. Wright. I picked up a copy of What Saint Paul Really Said because a friend was going on about how misunderstood he was, so I decided to give him a fair chance. I made it as far as page 22, in which Wright belittles ignorant boobs who still use Paul “to legitimate an old-style ‘preaching of the gospel’ in which the basic problem is human sin and pride and the basic answer is the cross of Christ.” Strike one (if you’ll forgive the sports metaphor) and two! That sin is the basic problem of mankind is a settled matter. That the cross of Christ is the answer — the only answer — is the gospel! Now I’m supposed to hear him out on justification? Love to, but sorry, I’ve got more pressing obligations at the moment. Now, where did I put that Sudoku book?

While Wright’s condescending attitude towards “old-style ‘preaching of the gospel’” is bad enough, more fundamentally erroneous is his über-intellectual approach to Genesis.

Watch this video from the theologically bankrupt BioLogos Forum (“[pseudo]Science and Faith[lessness] in Dialogue”).

According to Wright, the historicity of Adam and Eve and the days of creation is not important. These mythical stories are only true in that they represent whatever it is that really happened. This is where I would say “strike three,” except that the poor man is standing at the plate with a hoola-hoop instead of a bat. And this brings me to Litmus Test Number One: Can you get Genesis right? Can you manage to read the very first story in the Bible, in which God says, “I did this,” and believe that God did indeed do that? Or have you become so smart that you have no time for the obvious?

Unless some need for specific knowledge of N. T. Wright’s work arises, I won’t be reading any more. His credibility is irretrievably gone; not primarily because he blows it on justification, but because he couldn’t start at the beginning and get it right.

Now, here’s someone who can get it right, explaining why getting the opening chapters of Genesis right is so vitally important:

The Battle for the Beginning
Genesis 1:1–31
Everyone knows that evolutionists and creationists dispute how the universe began. And regardless of which side of the battle line you’re on, most people harbor strong feelings about the issue of origins.
Yet there are a host of important questions at the core of the battle that relatively few in either camp have bothered to ask—much less answer:

• Why is the issue of origins so universally controversial?
• How can creationists support biblical claims that so obviously seem to contradict modern science?
• Whose side of the argument does scientific evidence support?
• What roles should science and the Bible play in a person’s beliefs about the physical universe?

With the curiosity of a student and the precision of a veteran Bible teacher, John MacArthur takes you to the heart of the battle in his study The Battle for the Beginning. Based on an in-depth examination of Genesis chapter 1, The Battle for the Beginning takes you on an instructive, fascinating journey into the Bible’s own claims about creation, evolution, and the vital issues at stake.

Download (free) the 13-message series here, or buy the book.

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:

Baptism Debate With R.C. Sproul and John MacArthur

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>

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.

I’m sure Drs. Sproul and MacArthur would agree.

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.

In the book of Revelation, Jesus (via the Apostle John) is very clear on the importance of opposing false doctrine. John MacArthur writes:

   In His final recorded messages to the church, given to the apostle John in a vision several decades after Christ’s ascension into heaven, we see that the silencing of false teachers was still one of our Lords primary concerns, even from his throne in heaven. He addressed several churches—Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamos, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea. Only two of the churches, Smyrna and Philadelphia, were commended for their faithfulness without any qualification or hint of rebuke. Both of them had remained true to Christ despite the influence of “those who say they are Jews and are not, but a synagogue of Satan” (Revelation 2:9; 3:9). All five other churches received various measures of rebuke, based on how corrupt, unfaithful, or spiritually lethargic they were.
   A prominent theme in practically all Jesus’ messages to those seven churches is the issue of how they responded to false teachers and rank heretics in their midst. Ephesus, of course, was the church Jesus rebuked with the words: “I have this against you, that you have left your first love” (2:4). But Ephesus was nonetheless strongly commended twice because they refused to tolerate false teachers. Before he admonished them for leaving their first love, Jesus praised them for their steadfast resistance to false apostles: “I know your works, your labor, your patience, and that you cannot bear those who are evil. and you have tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars” (v. 2). Afterward, he told them, “But this you have, that you hate the deeds of Nicolaitans, which I also hate” (v. 6).
   The epistle to Pergamos was basically the flip side of that message to Ephesus. Christ commended the saints at Pergamos for holding fast to his name and not denying the faith, even though they dwelt where Satan’s throne was. In other words, they had successfully preserved in the faith despite external threats and persecution. Unlike Ephesus, they had not left their first love. Nevertheless, Christ had a list of rebukes for them, and these were all related to their tolerance of false doctrine in their own midst. It was if they were utterly insensible to internal dangers that came with a tolerant attitude toward deviant doctrines. He wrote, “I have a few things against you, because you have there those who hold the doctrine of Balaam. . . . You also have those who hold the doctrine of the Nicolaitans, which thing I hate” (vv. 14–15).
   Likewise to Thyatira he wrote: “I have a few things against you, because you allow that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess, to teach and seduce my servants.” (v. 20).
   The church at Sardis was spiritually dead, and the church at Laodicea was lukewarm and smug. Those churches had clearly already lost their will to oppose false doctrine and purge sin from their midst. Their lack of energy, lack of zeal and (in the case of Sardis) lack of life was a direct result of their failure to keep themselves and their fellowship pure. They had not been sufficiently wary of false teaching, and therefore they had not remained devoted to Christ alone. The warnings of Christ gave them chilling reminders that churches do go bad. When that happens, it is almost it is almost never because they succumb to dangers from the outside. Rather it is almost always because they let down their guard and allow false doctrines to be disseminated freely inside the church. Apathy sets in, followed inevitably by spiritual disaster.
   It is clear from those letters to the churches in Revelation that battling heresy is a duty Christ expects every Christian to be devoted to. Whether we like it or not, our very existence in this world involves spiritual warfare—it is not a party or a picnic. If Christ himself devoted so much of his time and energy during His earthly ministry to the task of confronting and refuting false teachers, surely that must be high on our agenda as well. His style of ministry ought to be a model for ours, and his zeal against false religion ought to fill our hearts and minds as well.

—John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore (Thomas Nelson, 2009), 206–208.

What if the WWJD fad had caught on with preachers? What if preachers asked, “How would Jesus preach?” and then actually aspired to follow his example? Things might be different in a lot of pulpits; because Jesus’ preaching showed no sensitivity to fashion and trends, or to the preferences of his hearers. MacArthur writes:

. . . consider how Jesus’ preaching might come across if He spoke that way in a stadium filled with twenty-first-century evangelicals. Because let’s be candid: Jesus’ style of preaching was nothing at all like most of the popular preaching we hear today—and His style of preaching isn’t likely to generate the kind of enthusiastic arm waving and feel-good atmosphere today’s Christians typically like to see at their mass meetings and outdoor music festivals.
   Survey the current plethora of websites devoted to supplying preachers with prefabricated sermon material, and you’ll get a very clear picture of what constitutes “great preaching” in the minds of most twenty-first-century evangelicals: trendiness; funny anecdotes; slick packaging; clever audio-visual aids; and short, stylish, topical homilies on themes borrowed from pop culture. Favorite subjects include marriage and sex, human relationships, self improvement, personal success, the pursuit of happiness, and anything else that pleases the audience—especially if the topic or sermon title can easily be tied into the latest hit movie, must-watch TV series, or popular song. In the trendiest churches, you are more likely to hear the preacher quote lyrics from Bono and U2 than from David and the Psalms. One megachurch sponsored a four-part sermon series in which their pastor did a word-by-word exegesis of passages taken from Dr. Seuss books, starting with Horton Hatches the Egg. The pastor of one of America’s five largest churches put a king-size bed on the platform as a prop while he preached a five-week series on sex. A year or so later, the same church made national headlines by promoting yet another series with a “sex challenge” so blatantly inappropriate that even some in the secular media expressed shock and outrage.
   Such shenanigans come under the rubric of relevance in the catalog of contemporary church-growth strategies. Sermons featuring straight biblical exposition, precise doctrine, difficult truths, or negative-sounding doctrines are strongly discouraged by virtually all he leading gurus of cultural relevance. And the people filling the evangelical pews “love to have it so” (Jeremiah 5:31). “Speak to us smooth things” (Isaiah 30:10) is their constant demand. Teaching, reproof, correction, and training in righteousness, (cf. 2. Timothy 3:16) are out. Catering to itchy ears is in (cf. 4:23). No truly clued-in preacher nowadays would think to fill his message with reproof, rebuke, or exhortation. (cf. 4:3). Instead, he does his best to suit the felt needs, preoccupations, and passions of the audience. Many contemporary pastors study pop culture as diligently as the Puritans used to study Scripture. They let congregational opinion polls determine what they should preach, and they are prepared to shift directions quickly if the latest survey tells them their approval ratings are beginning to drop.
   That, of course, is precisely what Paul told Timothy not to do. “Preach the word! . . . in season and out of season” (v. 2).
   The contemporary craving for shallow sermons that please and entertain is at least partly rooted in the popular myth that Jesus Himself was always likable, agreeable, winsome, and at the cutting edge of His culture’s fashions. The domesticated, meek-and-mild Savior of today’s Sunday-school literature would never knowingly or deliberately offend someone in a sermon—would He?
   As we have seen, even in a cursory look at Jesus’ preaching ministry reveals a totally different picture. Jesus sermons usually featured hard truths, harsh words, and high-octane controversy. His own disciples complained that His preaching was too hard to hear!
   That’s why Jesus’ preaching heads the list of things that make Him impossible to ignore. No preacher has ever been more bold, prophetic, or provocative. No style of public ministry could possibly be more irksome to those who prefer a comfortable religion. Jesus made it impossible for any hearer to walk away indifferent. Some left angry; some were deeply troubled by what He had to say; many had their eyes opened; and many more hardened their hearts against hiss message. Some became His disciples, and others became His adversaries. But no one who listened to Him preach for very long could possibly remain unchanged or apathetic.

—John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore (Thomas Nelson, 2009), 161–162.

One of the Pharisee’s biggest peeves with Jesus was his habit of associating with sinners; so they were particularly annoyed when he attended a party in his honor at the house of Levi the tax collector (i.e. Matthew, Luke 5:27ff). John MacArthur writes:

   That a rabbi would be willing to fraternize at a party with such people was utterly repugnant to the Pharisees. It was diametrically opposed to all their doctrines about separation and ceremonial uncleanness. Here was yet another pet issue of the Pharisees, and Jesus was openly violating their standards, knowing full well that they were watching him closely. From their perspective, it must have seemed as if He was deliberately flaunting His contempt for their system.
   Because He was. Remember an important fact we stressed in the previous chapter; all the friction that has taken place out in the open thus far between Jesus and Israel’s religious elite has been entirely at His instigation. As far as we know from Scripture, they had not yet voiced a single unprovoked criticism or public accusation against him.
   Even now, the Pharisees were not yet bold enough to complain to Jesus directly. They sought out His disciples and murmured their protest to them. Again, all three Synoptics stress that the Pharisees took their grievances to the disciples. It was a craven attempt to blindside Jesus by provoking a debate with His followers instead. I like the way Luke says it; “The Pharisees and their scribes began grumbling at His disciples” (Luke 5:30 NASB).
   But Jesus overheard (Matthew 9:12; Mark 2:17), and He answered the Pharisees directly, with a single statement that became the definitive motto for His interaction with the self-righteous Sanhedrin and their ilk: “It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick; I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners” (Mark 2:17 NASB). For sinners and tax collectors seeking relief fro the burden of their sin, Jesus had nothing but good news. To the self-righteous religious experts, He had nothing to say at all.
   Harsh? By postmodern standards, this was a terribly strident thing to say. And (as many people today would quickly point out) there was virtually no possibility that a comment like this would help sway the Pharisees to Jesus’ point of view. It was likelier to increase their hostility against Him.
   And yet it was the right thing say at this moment. It was the truth they needed to hear. The fact that they were not “open” to it did not alter Jesus’ commitment to speaking the truth—without toning it down, without bending it to fit His audience’s tastes and preferences, without setting the facts of the gospel aside to speak to their “felt needs” instead.

—John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore (Thomas Nelson, 2009), 105–106.

Spurgeon on the unhesitatingly confrontational character of Christ:

Brethren, the Savior’s character has all goodness and all perfection; he is full of grace and truth. Some men, nowaday, talk of him as if he were simply incarnate benevolence. It is not so. No lips ever spoke with such thundering indignation against sin as the lips of the Messiah. “He is like a refiner’s fire, and like a fuller’s soap. His fan is in his hand, and he will thoroughly purge his floor.” while in tenderness he prays for his tempted disciple, that his faith may not fail, yet with awful sternness he winnows the heap, and drives away the chaff into unquenchable fire. We speak of Christ as being meek and lowly in spirit, and so he was. A bruised reed he did not break, and the smoking flax he did not quench; but his meekness was balanced by his courage, and by the boldness with which he denounced hypocrisy. “Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, ye fools and blind, ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?” These are not words of the milksop some authors represent Christ to have been. He is a man—a thorough man throughout—a God-like man—gentle as a woman, but yet stern as a warrior in the midst of the day of battle. The character is balanced; as much of one virtue as another. As in Deity every attribute is full orbed; justice never eclipses mercy, nor mercy justice, nor justice faithfulness; so in the character of Christ you have all the excellent things.

—Charles Spurgeon, “Sweet Saviour,” cited in John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore (Thomas Nelson, 2009), 99.

George Swinnock on the moral capabilities of man:

There are several things which may help the to make the life fair in the eyes of men, but nothing will make it amiable in the eyes of God, unless the heart be changed and renewed. Indeed, all the medicines that can be applied, without the sanctifying work of the Spirit, though they may cover, they can never cure the corruptions and diseases of the soul. . . . Such civil persons go to hell without much disturbance, being asleep in sin, yet not snoring to the disquieting of others; they are so far from being awaked that they are many times praised and commended. Example, custom, and education, may also help a man to make a fair show in the flesh, but not to walk in the Spirit. They may prune and lop sin, but never stub it up by the roots. All that these can so, is to make a man like a grave, green and flourishing on the surface and outside, when within there is nothing but noisomeness and corruption.

—George Swinnock, “Do You Worship God,” cited in John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore (Thomas Nelson, 2009), 47.

A fitting addendum to yesterday’s post:

Now, we need to keep this in proper perspective. I’m not suggesting that every disagreement is an occasion for open combat, or even harsh words. Far from it. Many disagreements are so petty that it would be utterly unprofitable to engender strife over them. Merely personal conflicts, debates over arcane or unclear things, and semantic disputes usually fall into that category (2 Timothy 2:14, 23; 1 Corinthians 1:10). Not every issue on which we might hold strong opinions and disagree is of primary importance.
   Furthermore, no one who is mentally and spiritually healthy enjoys conflict for conflict’s sake. No one who thinks biblically would ever relish strife or deliberately indulge in “disputes over doubtful things” (Romans 14:1). Most of us know people who are overly pugnacious or incurably argumentative about practically everything. That is not at all what Jesus was like. And Scripture gives us no warrant to be like that. Petty or insignificant personal disagreements usually ought to be either charitably set aside or settled by friendly dialogue. Anyone who is prepared to pick a fight over every minor difference of opinion is spiritually immature, sinfully belligerent—or worse. Scripture includes this clear command: “if it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men” (Romans 12:18).

. . . dialogue does sound nicer than debate. Who but a fool wouldn’t prefer a calm conversation instead of conflict and confrontation?
   In fact, let’s state this plainly once more: Generally speaking, avoiding conflicts is a good ideal. Warmth and in geniality are normally preferable to cold harshness. Civility, compassion and good manners are in short supply these days, and we ought have more of them. Gentleness, a soft answer, and a kind word usually go farther than an argument or a rebuke,. That which edifies is more helpful and more fruitful in the long fun than criticism. Cultivating friends is more pleasant and more profitable than crusading against enemies. And it’s ordinarily better to be tender and mild rather than curt and combative—especially to the victims of false teaching
   But those qualifying words are vital: usually, ordinarily, generally. Avoiding conflict is not always the right thing. Sometimes it is downright sinful. Particularly in times like these, when almost no error is deemed too serious to be excluded form the evangelical conversation, and while the Lord’s flock is being infiltrated by wolves dressed like prophets, declaring visions of peace when there is no peace (cf. Ezekiel 13:16).
   Even the kindest, gentlest shepherd sometimes needs to throw rocks at the wolves who come in sheep’s clothing.

—John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore (Thomas Nelson, 2009), xi–xii, 19.

We live in an age of overt hostility toward any theological, philosophical, ethical, or moral absolutes. All opinions must be held tentatively. They may be suggested, but never asserted. Anyone who has spent much time in internet forums has probably run into this attitude. A few years ago, one pusillanimous soul admonished me that I should always append “IMO” to every contention. Today’s tolerant mindset refuses to say one thing is absolutely right, while its opposite is absolutely wrong. Both can be right! Today’s tolerant mindset is absolutely intolerant of absolutes.

How are we to interact with those with whom we disagree? Flexibly, of course, even when dealing with people of other religions. We must never hold our convictions — if I may use such a coarse word — too firmly. Be eager to make concessions and compromises. As John MacArthur quotes Doug Pagitt, “It’s important to note that dialogue is not debate; for dialogue to be effective, we need to resist the urge to cut people off and fix what they say. Healthy dialogue involves entering into the reality of the other. . . . In dialogue you are not allowed to stay right where you are; you must move toward the perspective of the other person.”

MacArthur shows just how dissimilar that approach is to the manner in which Jesus interacted with heretics and hypocrites:

Jesus’ interaction with the religious experts of His time was rarely cordial. From the time Luke first introduces us to the Pharisees in Luke 5:17 until his final mention of the “chief priests and rulers” in Luke 24:20, every time the religious elite of Israel appear as a group of in Luke’s narrative, there is conflict. Often Jesus Himself deliberately provokes the hostilities. When He speaks to the religious leaders or about them—whether in public or private—it is usually to condemn them as fools and hypocrites (Luke 11:40; 12:1; 13:15; 18:10–14). When He knows they are watching to accuse Him of breaking their artificial Sabbath or their manmade systems of ceremonial washing, He deliberately defies their rules (Luke 6:l7–11; 11:37–44; 14:1–6). On one occasion, when He was expressly informed that His denunciations of the Pharisees were insulting to the lawyers (the leading Old Testament scholars and chief academics at the time), Jesus immediately turned to the lawyers and fired off a salvo at them, too (Luke 11:45–54).

. . . Jesus never took the irenic approach with heretics or gross hypocrites. He never made the kind of gentle private appeals contemporary evangelicals typically insist are necessary before warning others about the dangers of a false teacher’s error. Even when he dealt with the most respected religious figures in the land, He took on their errors boldly and directly, sometimes even holding them up for ridicule. He was not “nice” to them by any postmodern standard. He extended no pretense of academic courtesy to them. He didn’t invite them to dialogue privately with Him about their different points of view. He didn’t carefully couch his criticisms in vague and totally impersonal terms so that no one’s feelings would be hurt. He did nothing to tone down the reproach of His censures or minimize the Pharisees’ public embarrassment. He made His disapproval of their religion as plain and prominent as possible every time He mentioned them. He seemed utterly unmoved by their frustration with His outspokenness. Knowing that they were looking for reasons to be offended by Him, He often did and said the very things that He knew would offend them the most.

—John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore (Thomas Nelson, 2009), xi, xiv–xv.

1988 was a big year for me. For starters, that was the year I got married; a rather life-changing event, that was. Then, as if I wasn’t in enough turmoil, John MacArthur published The Gospel According to Jesus. I had already been listening to Grace to You daily for a few months, getting my first — in my entire life! — taste of expository preaching. I loved it, and was being fed like never before. I had been a Christian for about three years, but had as yet not done any serious theological reading. My entire library fit in one cardboard box, and excluding textbooks from my one year at a Lutheran Bible School, contained two Christian books — two of those cute little gift-size hardcovers by Charles Swindoll. Then John MacArthur started talking about his new book, and I immediately bought it. I had been a voracious reader before, but this was the first serious Christian book I had ever read. It was a new birth, of sorts. Every Christian book I’ve bought since then is a godson of that one, and has been measured by that standard. In the following years, I bought every major MacArthur book published, and read them fanatically.

Then came the internet. You see, I never had a computer until about 1999/2000, and the one I got then was an antique hand-me-down with Windows 3.1 and (I think) a hard drive measured in megabytes, and no modem. It was just a fancy typewriter and electronic toy (I got my Minesweeper time down to five seconds). I didn’t get the internet until I upgraded in 2003, and that’s when my library exploded. It is amazing to me how little I knew of Christian authors before I came online. But then, before the internet, all I had was Christian radio and local Christian bookstores, and frankly, neither are very helpful. Giving my bookshelves a quick once-over, I see only a few non-MacArthur theological books that predate my internet days: Strong’s Concordance, Berkhof’s Sytematic Theology, Hans Neilson Hauge by A. M. Arntzen, Pilgrim’s Progress, a few Lutheran texts, and — hang on — The Works of James Arminius and Finney’s Systematic Theology (there are a few others I’ve gotten rid of, and, I’m sure, some I don’t see). So probably ninety-plus percent of my theological library was MacArthur.

Then, as I said, came the internet. I found lots of people who liked MacArthur, and they liked people like Sproul and Piper; and MacArthur, Sproul and Piper, et. al., liked all these authors that I’d never seen in bookstores with names like “Doves’s Nest” and “Rainbow Shop,” and things really got out of hand. Most fiscally devastating of all, somewhere in there came Banner of Truth and Iain Murray, and I became mesmerized by all those dead guys.

I have continued buying MacArthur just as faithfully as before, but now, with all those distractions, I have two or three unread MacArthurs on my shelf. I’ve been itching to read him again, so when The Jesus You Can’t Ignore arrived last week, I knew it had to be next. And just cracking the cover and reading the Prologue and Introduction was like coming home to a man who, though I’ve met him but once for all of about thirty seconds, really is a father in the faith.

Tune in tomorrow . . .

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

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

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

The Geneva Bible notes state succinctly:

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

Matthew Henry wrote:

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

And John Gill:

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

Finally, John MacArthur:

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

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

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

Consider these two parallel passages:

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

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

Can you see the parallel?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John MacArthur explains Calvin’s view of human depravity:

The phrase “total depravity” (not an expression of Calvin’s but a phrase descriptive of his view) has an unfortunate ambiguity about it. Many who are exposed to that terminology for the first time suppose it means Calvin taught that all sinners are as thoroughly bad as they possibly can be.
   But Calvin expressly disclaimed that view. He acknowledged that “in every age there have been persons who, guided by nature, have striven toward virtue throughout life” [Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 2.3.3.]. Calvin suggested that such people (even though there are “lapses . . . in their moral conduct” [Ibid.]) are of commendable character, from a human point of view. “They have by the very zeal of their honesty given proof that there was some purity in their nature” [Ibid.]. He went even further: “These examples, accordingly, seem to warn us against adjudging man’s nature wholly corrupted, because some men have by its prompting not only excelled in remarkable deeds, but conducted themselves most honorably throughout life” [Ibid., emphasis added.].
   Nevertheless, Calvin went on to say, such thinking actually points the wrong direction. Instead, “it ought to occur to us that amid this corruption of nature there is some place for God’s grace; not such grace as to cleanse it, but to restrain it inwardly” [Ibid.].
   Calvin was describing here what later theologians called “common grace”—the divine restraining influence that mitigates the effects of our sin and enables even fallen creatures to display—never perfectly, but always in a weak and severely blemished way—the image of God that is still part of our human nature, marred though it was by the fall.
   In other words, depravity is “total” in the sense that it infects every part of our being—not the body only; not the feelings alone; but flesh, spirit, mind, emotions, desires, motives, and will together. We’re not always as bad as we can be, but that is solely because of God’s restraining grace. We ourselves are thoroughly depraved, because in one way or another sin taints everything we think, do, and desire. Thus, we never fear God the way we should, we never love Him as much as we ought, and we never obey Him with a totally pure heart. That, for Calvin, is what depravity means.
   Calvin’s thorough treatment of human depravity is one of his most important legacies. Next to his work on the doctrine of justification by faith, it may be the most vital aspect of his doctrinal system. He brought clarity to a crucial principle that had practically fallen into obscurity over the centuries since Augustine’s conflict with Pelagius: to magnify human free will or minimize the extent of human depravity is to downplay the need for divine grace, and that undermines every aspect of gospel truth.
   Once a person truly grasps the truth of human depravity, the more difficult and controversial principles of Calvinist soteriology fall into place. Unconditional election, the primacy and efficacy of saving grace, the need for substitutionary atonement, and the perseverance of those whom God graciously redeems are all necessary consequences of this principle.

—John MacArthur, John Calvin: A Heart for Devotion, Doctrine, and Doxology, ed. Burk Parsons (Reformation Trust, 2008), 137–138

   2 Peter 1:16 For we did not follow cleverly devised tales when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of His majesty. 17 For when He received honor and glory from God the Father, such an utterance as this was made to Him by the Majestic Glory, “This is My beloved Son with whom I am well-pleased”— 18 and we ourselves heard this utterance made from heaven when we were with Him on the holy mountain.
   19 So we have the prophetic word made more sure, to which you do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star arises in your hearts. 20 But know this first of all, that no prophecy of Scripture is a matter of one’s own interpretation, 21 for no prophecy was ever made by an act of human will, but men moved by the Holy Spirit spoke from God.

This is a classic text expounding the reason for our confidence in the Bible as the Word of God.

While many people depend on their own experiences as a foundation for knowledge and wisdom, we have something far better on which to place our confidence. John MacArthur writes:

made more sure. This translation could indicate that the eyewitness account of Christ’s majesty at the Transfiguration confirmed the Scriptures. However the Gr. word order is crucial in that it does not say that. It says, “And we have more sure the prophetic word.” That original arrangement of the sentence supports the interpretation that Peter is ranking Scripture over experience. The prophetic word (Scripture) is more complete, more permanent, and more authoritative than the experience of anyone. More specifically, the Word of God is a more reliable verification of the teachings about the person, atonement, and second coming of Christ than even the genuine first hand experiences of the apostles themselves. [The MacArthur Study Bible, underlining added]

Scripture is “more sure” because its origin is not the mind of man, but of God. It is therefore, unlike our subjective experience, objectively true.

one’s own interpretation. The Gr. word for “interpretation” has the idea of a “loosing,” as if to say no Scripture is the result of any human being privately, “untying” and “loosing” the truth. Peter’s point is not so much about how to interpret Scripture, but rather how Scripture originated, and what its source was. The false prophets untied and loosed their own ideas. But no part of God’s revelation was unveiled or revealed from a human source or out of the prophet’s unaided understanding (see v. 21). [ibid.]

For this reason God gave them over to degrading passions; for their women exchanged the natural function for that which is unnatural, and in the same way also the men abandoned the natural function of the woman and burned in their desire toward one another, men with men committing indecent acts and receiving in their own persons the due penalty of their error. —Romans 12:26–27

In their efforts to promote their agenda, advocates of homosexuality have gone to incredible lengths to convince us that homosexuality is as natural as heterosexuality. It should surprise no one that most simply write off the Scriptural prohibitions as part of the larger fiction of the Bible. We should expect that. Harder to believe are the claims of those who attempt to manipulate Scripture to support their claims, and normalize homosexuality within the church. Addressing one of the more audacious examples of this Scripture-twisting, John MacArthur writes:

. . . homosexual advocates argue that Paul is speaking [in Romans 1:26–27] of an individual’s sexual orientation (rather than the created order) when he uses the term “nature.” Thus, for homosexuals, “their relationships cannot be described as ‘unnatural’, since they are perfectly natural to them” [it is alleged by some that Paul is not condemning homosexuality, but homosexual acts committed by heterosexuals]. However, such far-fetched interpretations are easily refuted (both from the context in Romans and from the way kata physin [natural] and para physin [unnatural] were used in ancient times). Moreover, the thought of “sexual orientation” would have been completely foreign to Paul, and represents an anachronistic attempt to read modern conventions into the biblical text.

So then, we have no liberty to interpret the noun “nature” as meaning “my” nature, or the adjective “natural” as meaning “what seems natural to me”. On the contrary, physis (“natural”) means God’s created order. To act “against nature” means to violate the order which God has established, whereas to act “according to nature” means to behave “in accordance with the intention of the Creator”. Moreover, the intention of the Creator means his original intention. What this was Genesis tells us and Jesus confirmed. . . . God created humankind male and female; God instituted marriage as a heterosexual union; and what God has thus united, we have no liberty to separate. [Stott, Romans 78. Internal citation from C. E. B. Cranfield, A Critical and Exegelical Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1975) 1:125.]

—John MacArthur, “God’s Word on Homosexuality,” The Master’s Seminary Journal (Fall 2008): 167–168.

1 Peter 3:15 —

But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear:

YouTube: John MacArthur Explains True Gospel

(HT: Gospel-Centered Musings)

   What is truth? We began this book with that question, and my earnest hope is that the answer is clear by now: Truth is not any individual’s opinion or imagination. Truth is what God decrees. And He has given us an infallible source of saving truth in His revealed Word.
   For the true Christian, this should not be a complex issue. God’s Word is what all pastors and Church leaders are commanded to proclaim, in season and out of season—when it is well received and even when it is not (2 Timothy 4:2). It is what every Christian is commanded to read, study, meditate on, and divide rightly.
It is what we are called and commissioned by Christ to teach and proclaim to the uttermost parts of the earth.
   Is there mystery even in the truth God has revealed? Of course. “‘For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways,’ says the Lord.” (Isaiah 55:8). In 1 Corinthians 2:16, Paul paraphrased Isaiah 340:13–1: “Who has known the mind of the Lord that he may instruct Him?”
   But then Paul immediately added this: “We have the mind of Christ.” Christ has graciously given us enough truth and enough understanding to equip us for every good deed—including the work of earnestly contending for the faith against deceivers who try to twist the truth of the gospel. Although we cannot know the mind of God exhaustively, we certainly can know it sufficiently to be warriors for the cause of truth against the lies of the kingdom of darkness.
   And we are commanded to participate in that battle. God Himself sounded the call to battle when His spirit moved Jude to write his short epistle and it permanently entered the canon of Scripture. This is not a duty any faithful Christian can shirk. Earthly life for the faithful Christian can never be a perpetual state of ease and peace. That’s why the New Testament includes so may descriptions of the Christian life as nonstop warfare: Ephesians 6:11–18; 2 Timothy 2:1–4; 2 Timothy 4:7; 2 Corinthians 6:7; 10:3–5; 1 Thessalonians 5:8. I hope by now you understand that those unwilling to join the fight against untruth and false religion are no true friends of Christ.

—John MacArthur, The Truth War (Thomas Nelson, 2007), 183–184.

   Protestant Christianity has always affirmed the perspicuity of Scripture. That means we believe God has spoken distinctly in His word. Not everything in the Bible is equally clear, of course (2 peter 3:16). But God’s Word is plain enough for the average reader to know and understand everything necessary for a saving knowledge of Christ. Scripture is also sufficiently clear to enable us to obey the Great Commission, which expressly requires us to teach others “all things” that Christ has commanded (Matthew 28:18-20).
   Two thousand years of accumulated Christian scholarship has been basically consistent on all the major issues: the Bible is the authoritative Word of God, containing every spiritual truth essential to God’s glory, our salvation, faith, and eternal life. Scripture tells us that all humanity fell in Adam and our sin is a perfect bondage from which we cannot extricate ourselves. Jesus is God incarnate, having taken on human flesh to pay the price of sin and redeem believing men and women from sin’s bondage. Salvation is by grace through faith, and not a result of any works we do. Christ is the only Savior for the whole world, and apart from faith in Him, there is no hope of redemption for any sinner. So the gospel message needs to be carried to the uttermost parts of the earth. True Christianity have always been in full agreement on all those vital points of biblical truth.
   As a matter of fact, the postmodernized notion that everything should be perpetually up for discussion and nothing is ever really sure or settled is a plain and simple denial of both the perspicuity of Scripture and the unanimous testimony of the people of God throughout redemptive history. In one sense, the contemporary denial for the Bible’s clarity represents a regression to medieval thinking, when the papal hierarchy insisted that the Bible is too unclear for laypeople to interpret it for themselves. (This belief led to much fierce persecution against those who worked to translate the Bible into common languages.)
   In another sense, however, the postmodern denial of Scripture’s clarity is even worse that the darkness of medieval religious superstition, because postmodernism in effect says no one can reliably understand what the Bible means, Postmodernism leaves people permanently in the dark about practically everything.
   That, too, is a denial of Christ’s lordship over the church. How could He exercise His headship over His church if His own people could never truly know what he meant by what He said? Jesus Himself settled the question of whether his truth is sufficiently clear in John 10:27–28, when He said “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand.”

—John MacArthur, The Truth War (Thomas Nelson, 2007), 157–158.

   The sad truth is that the larger part of the evangelical movement is already so badly compromised that sound doctrine has almost become a nonissue.
   The mad pursuit of nondoctrinal “relevancy.” Even at the very heart of the evangelical mainstream, where you might expect to find some commitment to biblical doctrine and at least a measure of concern about defending the faith, what you find instead is a movement utterly dominated by people whose first concern is to try to keep in step with the times in order to be “Relevant.”
   Sound doctrine? To arcane for the average churchgoer. Biblical exposition? That alienates the “unchurched.” Clear preaching on sin and redemption? Let’s be careful not to subvert the self-esteem of hurting people. The Great Commission? Our most effective strategy has been making the church service into a massive Super Bowl party. Serious discipleship? Sure. There’s a great series of group studies based on I love Lucy episodes. Let’s work our way through that. Worship where God is recognized as high and lifted up? Get real. We need to reach people on the level where they are.
   Evangelicals and their leaders have doggedly pursued that same course for several decades now—in spite of many clear biblical instructions that warn us not to be so childish (in addition to Ephesians 4:14, see also 1 Corinthians 14:20; 2 Timothy 4:3–4; Hebrews 5:12–14)
   What’s the heart of the problem? It boils down to this: Much of the evangelical movement has forgotten who is Lord over the church. They have either abandoned or downright rejected their true Head and given His rightful place to evangelical pollsters and church-growth gurus.

—John MacArthur, The Truth War (Thomas Nelson, 2007), 149–150.

. . . Christians today often actually seem more distressed about believers who think the Truth War is still worth fighting than about the dangers of false doctrine. Their complaint has become a familiar refrain: “Why don’t you just lighten up? Why don’t you ease up on the campaign against doctrines you disagree with? Why must you constantly critique what others are teaching? After all, we all believe in the same Jesus.”
   But Scripture clearly and repeatedly warns us that not everyone who claims to believe in Jesus really does. Jesus Himself said many would claim to know Jesus who actually do not (Matthew 7:22–23). Satan and his ministers have always masqueraded as ministers of righteousness (2 Corinthians 2:11). After all, this has been his strategy from the very start.
   So it is the very height of folly (and disobedience) for Christians in the current generation to decide all of a sudden that in the name of “love” we ought to sweep aside every aberrant idea about the gospel and unconditionally embrace everyone who claims to be a Christian. To do that would be to concede the whole battle for truth to the enemy.
   We must continue the fight.

—John MacArthur, The Truth War (Thomas Nelson, 2007), 95–96.

   Can someone . . . be even more dangerous than the hostile critic who stands outside the church and overtly opposes everything the Bible teaches? Absolutely. False teachers and doctrinal saboteurs inside the church have always confused more people and done more damage than open adversaries on the outside. Is an attacking enemy who promises his arrival in advance and wears a uniform for easy identification as dangerous as a terrorist who is hidden and acts with deadly surprise? The answer is obvious.

—John MacArthur, The Truth War (Thomas Nelson, 2007), 81.

   Postmodernism is simply the latest expression of worldly unbelief. Its core value—dubious ambivalence toward truth—is merely skepticism distilled to its pure essence. There is nothing virtuous or genuinely humble about it. It is proud rebellion against divine revelation.
   In fact, postmodernism’s hesitancy about truth is exactly antithetical to the bold confidence Scripture says is the birthright of every believer (Ephesians 3:12). Such assurance is wrought by the Spirit of God Himself in those who believe (I Thessalonians 1:5). We need to make the most of that assurance and not fear to confront the world with it.
   The gospel message in all its component facts is a clear, definitive, confident, authoritative proclamation that Jesus is Lord, and that He gives eternal and abundant life to all who believe. We who truly know Christ and have received that gift of eternal life have also received from Him a clear, definitive commission to deliver the gospel message boldly as His ambassadors. If we are likewise not clear and distinct on our proclamations of the message, we are not being good ambassadors.
   But we are not merely ambassadors. We are simultaneously soldiers, commissioned to wage war for the defense and dissemination of the truth in the face of countless onslaughts against it. We are ambassadors—with a message of good news for people who walk in a land of darkness and dwell in the land of the shadow of death (Isaiah 9:2). And we are soldiers—charged with pulling down ideological strongholds and casting down the lies and deception spawned by the forces of evil (1 Corinthians 10:3–5; 2 Timothy 2:3–4).
   Notice carefully: our task as ambassadors is to bring good news to people. Our mission as soldiers is to overthrow false ideas. We must keep those objectives straight; we are not entitled to wage warfare against people or the enter into diplomatic relations with anti-Christian ideas. Our warfare is not against flesh and blood (Ephesians 6:12); and our duty as ambassadors does not permit us to compromise or align ourselves with any kind of human philosophies, religious deceit, or any other kind of falsehood (Colossians 2:8).

—John MacArthur, The Truth War (Thomas Nelson, 2007), 24–25.

   The reason behind postmodernism’s contempt for propositional truth is not difficult to understand. A proposition is an idea framed as a logical statement that affirms or denies something, and it is expressed in such a way that it must be either true of false. There is no third option between true and false. (This is the “excluded middle” in logic.) The whole point of a proposition is to boil a truth statement down to such a pristine clarity that it must be either affirmed or denied. In other words, propositions are the simplest expressions of truth value used to express the substance of what we believe. Postmodernism, frankly, cannot endure that kind of stark clarity.
   In reality, however, postmodernism’s rejection of the propositional form turns out to be totally untenable. It is impossible to discuss truth at all—or even tell a story—without resorting the use of propositions. Until fairly recently, the validity and necessity of expressing truth in propositional form was considered self-evident by virtually everyone who ever studied logic, semantics, philosophy, or theology. Ironically, to make any cogent argument against the use of propositions, a person would have to employ propositional statements! So every argument against propositions is instantly self-defeating.
   Let’s be clear: truth certainly does entail more than bare propositions. There is without question a personal element to the truth. Jesus Himself made that point when He declared Himself truth incarnate. Scripture also teaches that faith means receiving Christ for all that He is—knowing Him in a real and personal sense and being indwelt by Him—not merely assenting to a short list of disembodied truths about Him (Matthew 7:21–23).
   So it is quite true that faith cannot be reduced to mere assent to a finite set of propositions (James 2:19). I have made that point repeatedly in previous books. Saving faith is more than a merely intellectual nod of approval to the bare facts of a minimalist gospel outline. Authentic faith in Christ involves love for His person and willingness to surrender to His authority the human heart, will, and intellectual consent in the act of faith. In that sense, it is certainly correct, even necessary, to acknowledge that mere propositions can’t do full justice to all the dimensions of truth.
   On the other hand, truth simply cannot survive if stripped of propositional content. While it is quite true that believing the truth entails more than the assent of the human intellect to certain propositions, it equally true that authentic faith never involves anything less. To reject the propositional content of the gospel is to forfeit saving faith, period.

—John MacArthur, The Truth War (Thomas Nelson, 2007), 14–15.

Divine Justice and the Doctrine of Election

In spite of the clarity with which Scripture addresses this topic, many professing Christians today struggle with acceptance of God’s sovereignty—especially when it comes to His electing work in salvation. Their most common protest, of course, is that the doctrine of election is unfair. But such an objection stems from a human idea of fairness rather than the objective, divine understanding of true justice. In order to appropriately address the issue of election, we must set aside all human considerations and focus on the nature of God and His righteous standard. Divine justice is where the discussion must begin.
   What is divine justice? Simply stated, it is an essential attribute of God whereby He infinitely, perfectly, and independently does exactly what He wants to do when and how He wants to do it. Because He is the standard of divine justice, by very definition, whatever He does is inherently just. As William Perkins said, many years ago, “We must not think that God doeth a thing because it is good and right, but rather is the thing good and right because God willeth and worketh it.”
   Therefore, God defines for us what justice is, because He is by nature just and righteous, and what He does reflects that nature. His free will—and nothing else—is behind His justice. This means that whatever He wills is just; and it is just, not by any external standard of justice, but simply because He wills it.
   Because the justice of God is an outflow of His character, it is not subject to fallen human assumptions of what justice should be. The Creator owes nothing to the creature, not even what He is graciously pleased to give. God does not act out of obligation or compulsion, but out of his own independent prerogative. That is what it means to be God. And because He is God, His freely determined actions are intrinsically right and perfect.
   To say that election is unfair is not only inaccurate, it fails to recognize the very essence of true fairness. That which is fair, right, and just is that which God wills to do. Thus, if God wills to choose those whom he will save, it is inherently fair for him to do so. We cannot impose our own ideas of fairness onto our understanding of God’s working. Instead, we must go to the Scriptures to see how God Himself, in his perfect righteousness, decides to act.

—John MacArthur, from his forward to Lawson’s Foundations of Grace (Reformation Trust, 2007), 8–9.