For a period of thirty years General and Particular Baptists experienced “intermittent, state persecution and mob-harassment” along with Presbyterians, Congregationalists, and Quakers.1 This was a period of extreme anxiety and constitutional crisis precipitated by the beheading of Charles I on January 30, 1649, during the British Civil Wars. Charles II provided the legal justification for the persecution of dissenters with the Clarendon Code (1662), which required Anglican ordination.
This led to the Great Ejection of nearly two thousand ministers. It was during this period that John Bunyan was imprisoned with Quakers for preaching without a license. Francis Bampfield was among the earliest to establish a separate congregation but when he was ejected from his pulpit, he adopted Baptist views while in prison. Upon his release he organized a Seventh Day Baptist church.2
When at last William came to the throne, the Act of Toleration (1689) permitted the free expression of ministers if they operated inside a meetinghouse with their doors open. During the heavy days of persecution, many Baptists sought simply to exist; however, others like Thomas Grantham, Benjamin Keach, and Thomas Delaune wrote apologetic works on the freedom of religion. Delaune published A Plea for the Non-Conformists in 1683 which so greatly impressed Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe, that he republished it with a preface condemning coerced religion. Benjamin Keach is best remembered for his children’s catechisms and the introduction of hymn singing as part of worship. Beginning as a General Baptist in 1655 he switched to become a Particular Baptist in 1672.3
The Particular Baptist expressions found in the London Baptist Confession of 1689, is often thought to have been the cause of a dour, non-evangelistic Calvinism; however, according to Michael Haykin, the Act of Toleration itself ushered in a period of cold, legal preaching in Baptist churches. Those churches which were willing to obey “the legal restrictions regarding evangelism produced a profound spiritual ‘settledness.’ [… Many Calvinistic Baptists] were content to live on their past experience of conversion and displayed little hunger for the presence and power of God in their lives.” This becomes more apparent in contrast to the Methodist movement, which was given freedom to evangelize outside of meeting houses as members of the Church of England.4
Streams Flowing into Non-Denominationalism
The Reformation created a crisis in societal order. The Baptist tradition, while varied, contains within it several themes which continue into our era. The free church emphasis brought awareness of the need for separation of church and state. Interpretation of Scripture was a congregational project which led to a reassertion of the ordinance of baptism to its rightful place as a sign of a regenerated heart. Mark Dever’s remarks on congregationalism and the right use of baptism may have provoked some legitimate concern; however, in our own history of leaving denominationalism for a purer congregational form of church government, we would do well to remember these Baptist fights.
Furthermore, lessons may be learned from the extreme and moderate voices. On the one hand, mere legal accommodation to secular society proved to stimy the spread of the gospel. Yet, the divisiveness in Amsterdam over non-essentials like succession distracted from more important doctrines like original sin. Dever’s willingness to moderate his tone, while contending for the Baptist heritage, is commendable in this instance. May we learn how to fight like this kind of Baptist. As non-denominationalists, we don’t want to be known for fighting all Christians anywhere, or “owning the libs”; however, we do want to hold high Biblical authority as we move our own inherited traditions closer to the Scriptural ideals with each successive generation.
Michael Haykin, One Heart and One Soul: John Sutcliff of Olney, his friends and his times (Durham, England: Evangelical Press, 1994), 15. ↩︎
The origin of the English Baptists is somewhat debated; however, there is enough consensus to say that the practice of believer’s baptism was picked up by English while in exile. John Smyth is often cited as the first English Baptist; however, those who were excommunicated from a Barrowist congregation in the Netherlands are likely the first.1 After the Act of Supremacy (1534) in which Henry VIII and his successors were declared the Supreme Head of the Church, principles of reformation began to germinate leading to the Act of Uniformity (1559). This Act was thought to be a compromise between Catholic and Protestant factions however it produced two additional kinds of churchmen: Puritans and Dissenters.
The Puritan faction used political means to “purify” the church whereas the Dissenters separated from the church and suffered. The Book of Martyrs (1563) by John Foxe taught Englishmen the importance of suffering for the truth and many did. In those early days, some Baptists did not assist their cause by immersing in frozen over rivers, permitting immodesty, and in some extreme cases, even full nudity. According to Richard Baxter, “In diverse places some baptized naked, and some did not.”2 As Baptist distinctives began to be articulated decorum increased. Early confessions began to specify that immersion should be performed “with convenient garments both upon the administrator and subject, with all modestie.”3
The General Baptists
Within the Dissenting tradition a variety of baptistic expression developed. John Smyth, although not technically the first English Baptist, is credited for leading a whole congregation into believer’s baptism. Beginning in Gainsborough, England with a separatist congregation in 1606, this congregation migrated to the Netherlands after James I implemented harsh policies against Dissenters. When this group Dissenters arrived in the Netherlands, they divided, each going a separate way. Among those who left Gainsborough for the Netherlands were the Pilgrim Church who eventually arrived in Plymouth, Massachusetts, 1620. John Smyth’s group did not join with the Barrowists who were already in Amsterdam.4 The followers of Henry Barrowe were called catabaptists because they only opposed infant baptism when improperly administered. They would postpone until a recognized authority was available.
Instead of joining with the Barrowists, John Smyth and Thomas Helwys made ties with Dutch Anabaptists and learned more about the practice of baptizing adult believers.5 After Smyth baptized himself (se-baptism), he then baptized his believing congregation. This led to a strong disagreement between Smyth and Helwys over needful succession for the validity of the rite of baptism. Helwys returned to England. Yet, just before his return, Smyth “severely modified his own Calvinistic views and accepted a number of the Anabaptist tenets” to join with the Mennonites. He repudiated his self-baptism in the process.6 Back in England Helwys established a General Baptist congregation, now convinced that fleeing persecution was wrong. They settled in “Spittlefeild neare London.”7 Helwys’s time in the Netherlands, however, seems to have encouraged him to adopt new views on original sin and free will. 8 His chief disagreement with Smyth seems to have been succession; however, according to Kliever, Helwys may have picked up the conversation in the Netherlands as the Arminian conflict was in full swing.9 Upon his return, Arminianism at Cambridge was beginning to find a foothold. By 1624 there were at least five General Baptist church in England and by 1650 another forty-seven.10
English Particular Baptists
Other separatists in England stayed and weathered through persecution from the Church of England. Henry Jacob established a church in Southwark, London. Also returning from exile in the Netherlands, he formed a church in 1616 with two others: John Lathrop and Henry Jessey. They adopted a “semi-separatist” approach operating independently without repudiating the state church.11 This feature tended to ameliorate them to the Reformed teachings of the Anglican Church. After a brief period of trouble in England, Henry Jacob migrated to Virginia in 1622 and Lathrop took over the pastorate for just over a decade. Lathrop resigned after internal strife occurred over a desire for purer church principles, and then Henry Jessey became pastor. Scholars conclude that the first Particular Baptist Church was formed out of this Southwark church as six members withdrew seeking to implement believer’s baptism with John Spilsbury in 1633.12 The famous William Kiffin joined the Spilsbury church five years later and was rebaptized. The recovery of immersion occurred between 1640-41 among this Particular Baptist congregation as recorded in the “Kiffin Manuscript.”13 In the decades that followed the Particular Baptists were not tolerated as members of the Westminster Assembly (1643-48) because of their open objection to infant baptism.
Robert G. Torbet, A History of the Baptists, 3rd Edition (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 1982), 28-29. ↩︎
Richard Baxter, More Proofs of Infant Church-Membership, 282-83, in Henry Martyn Dexter, The True Story of John Smyth, The Se-Baptist (Boston: Lee and Shepherd, 1881), 58-59. ↩︎
William Kiffen, The Confession of Faith, Of those Churches which are commonly (though falsely) called Anabaptists(1644), in William Lumpkin, Baptist Confessions of Faith (Chicago: Judson Press, 1959), 167. ↩︎
Lonnie D. Kliever, “General Baptist Origins: The Question of Anabaptist Influence,” 291-321 in The Mennonite Quarterly Review 36, No. 4 (Oct 1962): 301. ↩︎
Champlin Burrage, The Early English Dissenters in the Light of Recent Research (Cambridge, 1912), Vol. I, 68-208. ↩︎
William H. Brackney, Baptist Life and Thought: 1600-1980, A Source Book (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 1983), 28-29. Burrage, Early English Dissenters, 252.7. ↩︎
William Kiffin, Unpublished MSS, Angus Library, Regents Park, Oxford, in Brackney, Baptist Life, 29-31.In the decades that followed the Particular Baptists were not tolerated as members of the Westminster Assembly (1643-48) because of their open objection to infant baptism. ↩︎
“If you want to protect the gospel, get rid of infant baptism and be congregational. Make the whole congregation vote. You’ll keep the gospel!” Like red meat before wild animals these words elicited applause and shouts last fall (September 2022) at Southeastern Baptist Seminary in Wake Forrest, NC. Yet, nearly nine months later, Mark Dever’s remarks went viral on social media. Speaking to a largely baptistic crowd at a 9Marks gathering, Dever kicked a hornet’s nest, taking aim at his friendly association with pedobaptists.
His assertion, that during the reformation, pedobaptists created a new category of baptized but unregenerate persons in the church, provoked applause, and consternation from Presbyterian Kevin DeYoung. To Mark Dever’s credit, he responded well to DeYoung’s private admonition regarding his tone and argument, which prompted a public discussion between themselves for the benefit of others.1
Yet the substance of Dever’s thought has a long and storied history that appeared very forcefully in the early days of the Reformation. Derided as anabaptists by the continental reformers, early baptistic adherents developed a stance towards a pure church ideal that is to be admired. As is true in my non-denominational association, the Baptist affiliation has had several streams of thought underneath its distinctive name. This 3-part blog post will briefly distinguish between the anabaptist stream on the European continent and their counterparts in England. Once the players are understood, the implication of their theology becomes clearer. The legacy of the Baptist conflicts in the reformation era flow into non-denominational, free church traditions of which the IFCA is a part.
The Continental Anabaptists
Chronologically, the continental anabaptists preceded the English Baptist tradition by nearly a century. Just eight years after Martin “the Wild Boar” Luther appeared in Pope Leo X’s vineyard, 2 a small group in Zurich led by Conrad Grebel and Felix Manz met to consider their responsibility to the state considering their newly found convictions. The City Council had issued an ultimatum to baptize their children or face banishment. Their small but growing group of believers were called Anabaptists by Catholics and Protestants alike due to their ardent rejection of their infant baptisms and attempt to establish free church communes. Münster, Germany is today a byword for radical enthusiasm due to a failed attempt to establish a “New Jerusalem” in 1535.
A repudiation of their infant baptisms might, on its own merits, have been tolerable had they not also become associated with civil unrest. Luther’s resistance coupled with a rising German nationalism led to a general revolt against Rome but ended in a slaughter of peasants in 1525. The peasants wanted social and economic reform. Weary from the oppressive nature of feudalism which separated people into castes and limited economic prosperity, the peasants revolted against religious and civic authorities. The slaughter of peasants was so shocking that governments moved quickly to stamp out religious dissent to prevent any future uprising amid the ongoing, orderly attempt to reform the church gradually.
Conflict with the state began when Grebel’s wife gave birth and they refused to baptize their son. The first to be baptized was George Blaurock, a former priest, who desired to follow the example of the first century church. After his baptism, Blaurock proceeded to baptize the rest. This first adult baptism, although done by pouring, was precipitated by an ultimatum of the City Council of Zurich decreeing banishment for neglect of child baptism after the eighth day.3 So, this act of baptism was also an act of defiant resistance to the City Council. Zurich was a city-state organized on a church-government compact, but Grebel and Manz desired a church free from state oversight. The City Council would have none of it and decreed all anabaptists be drowned for their non-compliance.
This experience was repeated by many earnest believers like Balthasar Hubmaier. Hubmaier, for example, encouraged people to “investigate the Scriptures” around a meal at his home.4 These experiments in free church practice were a threat to the established systems of ordered civic life. The Anabaptists emphasis upon de-centralization of power made them a threat. Closely associated with their desire for a separation of the church from the state was an appreciation for congregationalism. In the aftermath the Peasant’s Revolt many Swiss and German anabaptists migrated towards Moravia and the Netherlands. These became known as the Hutterites, the Mennonites, and in America, the Old Order Amish.
On September 19, 2023, Mark Dever publicly apologized for overstating his position and deriding his paedobaptist friends in a conversation with Jonathan Leeman and Kevin DeYoung. The audio is available here: https://www.9marks.org/conversations/on-pastoral-public-tone-with-kevin-deyoung-pastors-talk-ep-245/ ↩︎
“Arise, O Lord, and judge your own cause … Listen to our prayers, for foxes have arisen seeking to destroy the vineyard whose winepress you alone have trod … The wild boar from the forest seeks to destroy it and every wild beast feeds upon it.” Exsurge Domine, Pope Leo X, June 15, 1520. ↩︎
Bruce L. Shelley, Church History in Plain Language, 2nd Ed (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1995), 247-252; The Reminiscences of George Blaurock, in The Hutterite Chronicles (1542). ↩︎
Balthasar Hubmaier, “Eighteen Theses Concerning the Christian Life,” in Balthasar Hubmaier: Theologian of Anabaptism (ed. H. Wayne Pipkin and John H. Yoder; Scottdale: Herald Press, 1989), 32. ↩︎
Sitting in our screened in porch I listen intently to Rev. Fr. Michael describe an ecclesiastical world that our fellowship of churches would consider steeped in unnecessary tradition. Every Tuesday afternoon Michael brings his children to my wife’s home piano studio. She’s become the go-to teacher for the Russian Orthodox Seminary in our rural county in Pennsylvania. St. Tikhon’s Monastery is the oldest Orthodox monastery in America. At first, it was a marvel to see pony-tailed men in long black robes with large crucifix at my dining room table. Much more surprising, though, is how many of these seminarians were formerly protestant and at least one whom I know graduated from an undergraduate school that many in our fellowship know. What would trigger protestants to jettison their own non-denominational traditions for even more complex traditions?
That is a topic for another time. But today, Michael tells me that when he first converted to Orthodoxy, he thought his new church’s liturgy was stuck in the fifth century. Every liturgy, he said, closed with a Theotokion! With a wry grin, and a stroke of his beard, he added, that’s a hymn to the Virgin Mary Theotokos, you know. Do we know? Thankfully, we don’t need to know everything. Yet, for some deconstructing evangelicals the unknown is an attraction and ad fontes (‘to the sources’) feels much more authentic. To join an Orthodox communion is appealing because it appears to be the most direct way to get to the teaching of the apostles. For others, the big box church they grew up in created a deep hunger for a more stable and settled tradition after the worship band sang that chorus too many times. The next fad to attract consumers can be draining especially if you don’t catch the next wave.
Yet, instead of joining a new tradition, protestants have the greatest opportunity to sift through the widest sweep of historical theology with appreciation, humility, and an open Bible. In the two-millennia arc of history the new is often rather old. Just as mid-century décor has returned, so will those bell-bottoms and the subtle ways people used to talk about the incarnation of the Son in the fifth century. The more deliberate engagement with classical theology intends to retrieve a living faith from the past for present faithfulness. Ressourcement is a French word, which is mostly parallel to the Reformation cry ad fontes, meaning ‘a return to the sources.’[1]
That is, a return to the ancient sources can assist us in our contemporary situation in which Gnosticism seems to have returned with a vengeance (more on this in a moment). The advent season is an appropriate time to reflect upon the incarnation through the eyes of the ancient church. We can be thankful for those who labored to understand how it could be that Mary was truly Theotokos, that is, mother of God and not simply the mother of Christ, that is, Christotokos. Theotokos, though, jars my evangelical mind until I consider what this epitaph for Mary embodies. This term is much larger than Mary’s role of bearing the Christ child. Our understanding of the word Christ itself is colored by the Christological settlement which occurred after years of debate over the Trinity (Nicaea 325 ad) and the Son of God incarnate (Ephesus 431 ad and Chalcedon 451 ad).
Just as revelation itself came progressively over time, so has our understanding of revelation. Gregory Nazianzen (329—390 ad), a Cappadocian Father, recognized the naturalness of doctrinal development, saying, “The Old Testament proclaimed the Father openly, and the Son more obscurely. The New manifested the Son, and suggested the Deity of the Spirit. Now the Spirit Himself dwells among us, and supplies us with a clearer demonstration of Himself.”[2] As new teaching arises it must also be evaluated according to revelation to be sound doctrine (Titus 1:9; 2:1; 2 Tim. 2:15) and if not rejected. This means that expeditious decisions must be made in accordance with the Analogia Scriptura. Reason must be employed to make these decisions. Periodically, though, critics claim that the doctrine of the Trinity has more in common with Plato than Paul.[3] This claim presupposes that the Hebrew concepts in Scripture are non-translatable to other cultures. Furthermore, this view suggests that Christians in previous generations were less capable of asserting the authority of the originals as they were using external tools of metaphysics to answer questions that the New Testament authors left unanswered.[4]
Leading up to the contentious Christological controversies in the fifth century was the slow evolution of trinitarian expression occurring under the pressure of Gnosticism. Gnosticism was a difficult heresy to root out in the early centuries because it emphasized a monotheism by focusing on ‘the One.’ Everything outside of the One was a lesser substance, even if it was a mirror or shadow of the Almighty. In this way all creation was shunned and escape from it preferred. To gain insight and rise above this world was redemption. How could any divinity exist outside of the monad? To convince the gainsayers that the Son was not a lesser substance our forefathers adopted philosophical tools to describe the Son as being of the same uncreated substance as the Father because of the infinite nature which they share. Homoousias (lit. same substance) became the right way to describe the relationship of the three rather than Homoiousia (lit. of like substance). This is one instance in which the addition of an iota matters. In the fourth century Arius began to teach that only the Father was self-existent and that Son was generated with like substance (homoiousia).
At first homoousias may have been used generically leading up to the Council of Nicaea, but Arius’s insistence that ‘there was a time when the Son was not’ required the church to remove the iota to preserve the full deity of the incarnate Son. Athanasius courageously strove to overcome Arius’s insistence that the Son of God was a created being. According to John N. D. Kelly, Athanasius had a deeper “conviction of redemption” than philosophy.[5] Athanasius could see the gospel consequence around the corner. Without being of the same substance as the Father, the Son would not be able to bring sinners into union with the Father. In other words the mediatorial work of Christ was at stake.[6] It would be Augustine, in the next century, who would update the language of substance to essence. But for now, the issue at stake related to how one described the incarnate Son. His full deity was required to procure our salvation. So, who was Jesus Christ? The designation one gave to Mary provided significant insight into view of the incarnate Son. The only perfect human being was Jesus of Nazareth but as the perfect human being is a result of what the Son of God had become. What became of the Son when conceived in the womb of Mary by the Holy Spirit?
While Nicaea anathematized Arius’s teaching, homoousians did not fully answer how deity and manhood were combined. The creed’s simple statement that the Son “was made flesh, becoming man” gently corrected the Gnosticism. Nevertheless, this simplicity allowed for slippery word-games that undermined the full humanity of Christ. Arians and those that followed him taught that in Christ the Word had united himself to a human body while lacking a rational human soul, Himself taking the place of one.[7] In other words, the Word entered a body just as He had entered the prophets for the purpose of inspiration. This approach was simply gnostic dualism.
Apollinaris (310-390), on the other hand, valiantly stood against this Arian dualism, but in his zeal overstated how the Son was united with humanity. From the moment of conception, Apollinaris taught, the Word displaced man’s rational soul creating a unity of nature between the Word and the body.[8] This deification of nature is much like the science-fictional time-traveler Dr. Who, who takes on a persona, which is simply a form or projection to others. Apollinaris’s teaching was silenced because of its non-redemptive quality. If the Son of God did not assume a fully human nature than what value was the redemption made for mankind? Gregory Nazianzen famously said, “For that which he has not assumed, he has not healed; but that which is united to his Godhead, is also saved.”[9] Just as a created Son of God could not be redemptive neither could an apparition that seemed to be man without being man.
The alternative to a collapsed nature with a projected human form was to join the two natures through a moral conjunction. Nestorius (386—450) was asked by his parishioners if it was appropriate to call Mary Theotokos. He ruled that it was a doubtful term unless man-bearing (anthrotokos) was to be added to it as a balance. His preference was to describe the Virgin Mary as Christotokos. Like a person who discovers, for themselves, the truthfulness of Calvin’s doctrines of grace, Nestorius became odious to others claiming that God cannot have a mother and that the Godhead cannot have been carried in a womb for nine months, nurtured on the breast and be carried let alone suffer and die.[10] This provocativeness drew Nestorius into conflict with Cyril of Alexandria (376—444).
While Cyril’s approach was not honorable with respect Nestorius,[11] he nevertheless recognized that the divine and human natures must have existed not simply as a collection of qualities but as a concrete subsistence. In his mind out of the two is one Christ, one Son without destroying the natures in union.[12] A “hypostatic union” of the Word and man was from conception in Mary’s womb without any change or confusion, is understood to be, and is, one Christ.[13] Cyril began to understand, like Athanasius, that the redemptive quality of Christ’s suffering was directly related to a capacity as a rational human soul like ours that might voluntarily offer himself.[14] Cyril influenced the patriarch in Rome to join a council in which found Nestorius guilty of heresy. Then the Emperor expelled Nestorius from Constantinople. Nestorius and his followers fled to Persia. Today, the Nestorian Church is very small but still has members in Iraq, Iran, Syria, and India.[15]
Cyril’s famous formula of hypostatic union and preference for Mary Theotokos became the bedrock of our creedal tradition at the Council of Chalcedon in 451 ad. Retrieval of this classic theology can assist us today to be faithful to Christ. What is old is new again. Gnosticism has returned with a vengeance. Detachment from the created order is a higher value today in modern gender theory. Thankfully our forefathers recognized the high value that God placed on human flesh by taking upon himself gender to redeem male and female. Remember the words of Gregory Nazianzen: “For that which he has not assumed, he has not healed; but that which is united to his Godhead, is also saved.”[16]
As I listen to my Russian Orthodox friend, I am reminded of the necessity to retrieve this classic theology to preserve the gospel for another generation. Michael continues, saying that, some Orthodox like to describe Mary’s womb as a temple, wider than the heavens. The uncontained God is in Mary’s womb. The incarnation is a paradox to explain the unexplainable grace of God towards mankind. The hypostatic union, the link between infinity and finitude, is our link through Mary’s womb to a greater union which exists with God and each other in the church. The sacredness and simplicity of Mary’s role as the Theotokos highlights God’s tender concern for our frail humanity to redeem, restore, and reconcile. If the Son of God took on flesh, then our embodiment matters to him, no matter what elite social planners have in store for our society. Male and female matter to him. Hope is found in the risen So of God. As created beings our gendered existence is not to be thrown out; rather, Jesus came, as the old Carol rings, to cast out sin and enter in. The Son of God came to dwell among us and through the Holy Spirit in us.
[1] Michael A. G. Haykin popularized this definition, which he adapted from Jean Daniélou and Henri de Lubac. https://www.reformation21.org/blogs/ressourcement-retrieving-our-p.php.
[3] For example, seventeenth century British anti-trinitarianism, nurtured by the writings of the Italian theologian Faustus Socinus (1539—1604), claimed that Reformation was incomplete until tradition, transubstantiation, and the Trinity was fully dismantled. Paul Helm, Mystery Unveiled: The Crisis of the Trinity in Early Modern England (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 27-29.; Adolf von Harnack (1851—1930) claimed that the Hellenization of Christianity occurred through first three centuries. Adolf von Harnack, What is Christianity? trans. by Thomas Saunders (New York: Putnam’s Sons, 1901), 204-224.]
[4] “Too often modern theologians erect a disastrous partition between ‘biblical’ faith and theology’s chronic ‘Hellenism’, as if the Bible were never speculative or as if hellenized Judaism did not provide the New Testament with much of its idiom; Hellenism is part of the scriptural texture of revelation, and theology without its peculiar metaphysics is impossible.” David Bentley Hart, The Beauty of the Infinite: The Aesthetics of Christian Truth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 32.
[5] John N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, 4th ed (London: Adam Charles Black, 1968), 243.
[6] “If He was Himself too from participation, and not from the Father His essential Godhead and Image, He would not deify, being deified Himself.” Athanasius, De Synodis, 51.
[9] James Stevenson and B. J. Kidd, eds., Creeds, Councils, and Controversies: Documents Illustrative of the History of the Church A.D. 337-461 (New York: Seabury Press, 1966), 90.
[16] James Stevenson and B. J. Kidd, eds., Creeds, Councils, and Controversies: Documents Illustrative of the History of the Church A.D. 337-461 (New York: Seabury Press, 1966), 90.
New revelations from North Point Community Church have challenged many who follow the ministry methodology of Andy Stanley. Yet, this character shift and many others like it, open up a door to examine our own heart’s health and focus. What wisdom can be gained from those who have gone before?
In any field of study, as the hours turn into days and weeks, it is easy to let yourself become who you have beheld for so long. Some, however, will go beyond whom they have beheld. For example, it is often charged that the followers of Calvin, at times, have become more Calvinistic than Calvin. This is true in any area of philosophical or theological study. In a letter to Samuel Hopkins, Andrew Fuller cautions his friend of this potential.
This excerpt blow is from a letter written in response to Samuel Hopkins who had made observed how British theologians were reticent to challenge errors of colleagues’s system of theology, publicly. Hopkins suggested that his friends across the pond had a good dose of what American’s called “British Pride.” This pride prevented them from engaging with others for fear of entanglement or the appearance of being too aggressive.1
“I have enjoyed with great pleasure in reading many of the metaphysical pieces of the American writers; and I hope that those who can throw light upon evangelical subjects in that way will go on to do it: but I have observed that whenever an extraordinary man has been raised up, like President Edwards, and who has excelled in maintaining some particular doctrine, or in some one science, or manner of reasoning, it is usual for his followers and admirers too much to confine their attention to that doctrinal science or manner of reasoning, as though all excellence was there concentred. I allow your present writers do not implicitly follow Edwards as to his sentiments; but that you preserve perhaps a greater degree of free inquiry than the Calvinists do on our side the water: Yet I must say it appears to me that some of your younger men possess a rage of imitating this metaphysical manner, till some of them become metaphysic-mad. And I am not without some of Mr. Scott’s apprehensions, lest by such a spirit the simplicity of the gospel should be lost, and truth amongst you stand in the wisdom of man rather than in the power of God.”2
Andrew Fuller to Samuel Hopkins (1798)
Andrew Fuller’s advice is a good self-assessment tool. It is easy to go beyond and lose the simplicity of the gospel that can be fully comprehended by children. We may do this out of a love for a system or a personality. This bit of gospel wisdom is the power of God over the wisdom of men. May students of theology, students of history, and all students strive to imitate the wisdom of Christ. Do we love a mentor more than Christ? Beware of the Cult of Personality!
Samuel Hopkins, “Letter sent to John Ryland Jr., Nov. 24, 1797,” Joseph Angus Autograph Collection, Regent’s Park College, Oxford. ↩︎
Andrew Fuller, “Letter sent to Samuel Hopkins, March 17, 1798,” Simon Gratz Autograph Collection 1343-1928, British Literary Miscellaneous, Pennsylvania Historical Society (Case 11, Box 7, Folder 7); John Ryland Jr, “Letter sent to Samuel Hopkins, March 13, 1798,” David McNeely Stauffer Collection, Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia (Volume 26, Pages 2024-280, File 2080). ↩︎
In non-denominational and baptistic traditions, many ask, “What percentage should I require of a congregation to accept a call?” There are lots of things to think about when answering that question. Do I have the leadership capacity and chemistry for this church culture? Do I have an adequate metric of their church health? On a practical level, will they take care of my family and respect our decisions? But how do you assess these things when applying from a distance?
Percentage may not always be the best gauge but it may provide you with leverage to properly interview the congregation. For example, John Piper’s call was not unanimous, nor was John MacArthur’s elder team fully on side. None should rule out a low percentage call.
But how low? There may be a variety of reasons why one might not receive an unanimous vote outside of the usual likability. How should one proceed?
1. Be sure to read your cultural moment well
Usually, there are cultural considerations at play. When people are skittish and distrusting of leadership in general, pastoral transitions may be rough and tumble but not impossible.
People are the same in every generation. People, like flocks, become disquieted when predatory animals are in the wind. Our era is quite a bit like the post-“neutral period” which occurred after the first great awakening up to the American Revolution. As Stephen Wolfe notes, Christianity was widely accepted during this “neutral period,” but not so much now. Coalitions for the gospel prior to the Awakening were easy to form and there was a general good-will among Reformed-minded Christians. Not so much now (2023) or then (1750-60s).
There is now a strong polarization between Elite and Rural in America. But we have been here before. Consider two calls to ministry that occurred amidst cultural anxiety and change in the lead up to the Revolution.
Periods of transition
1730s New England was an easy period of idyllic, good-will and cooperation among Reformed Christians (“neutral period”). In those days, everyone adhered to the Westminster Confession, except for a few enthusiast Quakers who wandered up from Pennsylvania. It was the Great Awakening in the 1740s that divided the Reformed brethren along social-economic and generational lines. Why? The Awakenings threatened the power-structures .
The younger ministers (New Lights) tended to favor the Awakening. The older men (Old Lights) did not because it questioned their legitimacy. These ministers typically had influence in colonial government, while the younger did not. The older used their influence to weaponize government to suppress itinerate preaching. This evoked a response from Elisha Williams in his The Essential Rights and Liberties of Protestants (1744).1
By 1750 Jonathan Mayhew preached a memorial sermon in Boston titled A Discourse concerning Unlimited Submission and Non-Resistance to the Higher Powers.2 Mayhew, and Old Light, was an unlikely partner for the repressed New Light movement in New England; however, his published sermon was read by many during this period. 3 The republican ideas contained therein were read and discussed leading up to the French and Indian War (1754–1763).
Predictable Volatility
Cultural mood can be pervasive and directly impact how the sheep will respond to their future minister. If there is a general distrust in governmental leadership, it may carry over into the congregational life. The Intolerable Acts aimed at the Colonies enflamed distrust. This rising distrust of civil and ministerial leadership sent shock-waves through many communities in New England as Revolution began to be debated openly. It was in this volatile cultural moment that that two New Light Ministers applied for pulpits in prominent New England cities in the late 1760s. Jonathan Edwards Jr. applied in New Haven, CT and Samuel Hopkins applied in Newport, RI.
2. Assess Church Health and Your Related Experience
Jonathan Edwards Jr. (1745-1801)
In 1766 Edwards Jr. graduated from Princeton and spent a winter and summer with Joseph Bellamy and Samuel Hopkins. Both of these men had been mentored by his more famous father. After Edwards Jr. was licensed to preach in 1767, he returned to Princeton for a year to teach junior students while he filled pulpits. In 1768 he began preaching at his esteemed uncle’s church, the White Haven Church in New Haven, CT. He was only 23 years old and single when he began preaching there. Furthermore, he was dependent upon the recommendations of more seasoned men to assess his compatibility in the congregation.
He sought guidance from Joseph Bellamy regarding his salary. He also took advice from the president of Yale, a local pastor, and Roger Sherman-a leading member in regard to baptismal standards. In this situation, it appears Edwards Jr. was a pawn. A controlling faction was using him to serve their own purposes.4 Thus, his coming did not produce the unity desired, and the church split within 9 months of his January 1769 installation as sixty-eight left to form their own society.
Politics
In this church a division had been growing for at least eight years under the surface. Unfortunately, name recognition is not enough to bring a divided congregation together. Young men tend to think that they can do what many older men can do better, which is a trap. Edwards Jr. definitely grew in his capacity to lead the church once the embittered faction left. Yet, he lacked skills to win over older congregational members. The doctrinal differences were not unimportant; however, he lacked the gravitas to garner respect. To be fair, there was poor church health at the White Haven. Prior to his candidacy, the deacons had created a general atmosphere of distrust to match the cultural mood of the day.
Samuel Hopkins (1721-1803)
Samuel Hopkins on the other hand, left a congregation in 1768 without a call to a new ministry. Traveling East from Great Barrington, MA, he went to Boston with the purpose of networking. While in Boston he became a candidate at the Old South Church; however, there were not enough supporters to receive a call. To his credit, he permitted himself to supply pulpits in Maine. As he was about to leave Maine for home, he received a request from the First Congregational Church in Newport, RI to be a candidate.
In July 1769 he arrived in this seaport community to preach for “a social and cultural world totally removed from the rural, small town society so familiar and comfortable to him.”5 This seaport was the fifth largest city in the colonies having larger pockets of diversity than most other cities-including approximately 1200 enslaved and free African Americans.6 By comparison, the back waters of the Berkshires made Newport appear as Babylon.
Prayer
To the surprise of Hopkins, the church seemed ready to respond to his theological idiosyncrasies on communion and baptism. Yet, after a month with them, rumors began to circulate from outside of the church that turned the positive sentiment against him. After he left Newport to return home, he received correspondence from supporters. Two women, Sarah Osborn and Susanna Anthony, held weekly prayer meetings seeking to regain Hopkins for the church.
He returned to preach on probation for the fall and winter. By the following spring, to the shock of the Old Lights who were opposed to his installation, he was settled. Hopkins moved his family to Newport in 1770 to begin a successful career. He would have been even more successful had the War not occurred shortly thereafter. It was in this church that the seeds of the abolition movement began to sprout. He, with others, petitioned the Continental Congress to suspend the slave trade.
According to Conforti,
“When at afternoon teas, Hopkins found himself the center of attention and the solicitous women willing to do anything in their power to aid their minister, he was reassured that he had found one of the few churches in New England where a clergyman still commended respect and deference.”7
How to Assess a Number
For a young person entering ministry, great care ought to be taken to assess one’s personal experience. Edwards Jr. appeared to have enough local supporters but not enough to properly bring unity to the body. Furthermore, the political ends of factions in the church ought to have been a clear signal not to accept the call. Political gamesmanship is not the work of grace.
Samuel Hopkins, on the other hand, had sufficient age to build credibility with a new congregation. What appeared to be a closed door became an open door by the work of spiritual people. The women who prayed won the day and provided a pathway for good success in ministry. Numbers in a congregation can change so that what is a low percentage initially becomes unanimous in the end.
Prayerfully assess numbers. If you receive a low number, don’t worry. This is an opportunity to interview the congregation. For example, if you have an 80% vote and the constitution permits it, don’t say no immediately. Evaluate the the cultural moment you are in. Ask questions to clarify. Are there spiritually minded people present in the congregation? Perhaps through conversation misunderstandings may be cleared up. Like Samuel Hopkins, you might be able to prolong the process, request time and prayer, and by the end find that you have a unified church to lead.
Elisha Williams, The Essential Rights and Liberties of Protestants: A Seasonable Plea for The Liberty of Conscience, and The Right of Private Judgment, in Matters of Religion, Without any Controul [sic] from Human Authority […] (Boston: S. Kneeland and T. Green, 1744). ↩︎
Full title: A Discourse concerning Unlimited Submission and Non-Resistance to the Higher Powers. With some Reflections on the Resistance made to King Charles I. And on the Anniversary of his Death: In which the Mysterious Doctrine of that Prince’s Saintship and Martyrdom is Unriddled, January 30, 1749/50 (Boston: D. Fowle, 1750). ↩︎
According to John Adams who was a member of his church, this sermon was read by everyone. John Adams, The Works of John Adams, Letters 1811-1825, vol. 10 Indexes (Boston: Little, Brown, and Company, 1854), 288. Jonathan Edwards Jr. preached a similar sermon during the war years from the same text. ↩︎
Jonathan Edwards Jr., “Letter to Joseph Bellamy, Nov. 31, 1768, Jonathan Edwards Papers, Series V Edwards Family Correspondence, Jonathan Edwards 1745-1801 Outgoing Papers, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library (Box 26, Folder 1414). ↩︎
Joseph A. Conforti, Samuel Hopkins & The New Divinity Movement (Grand Rapids: Wm B. Eerdmans, 1981), 98. ↩︎
I’ve never been early to any game. I have just recently learned that the original inflamatory gty.org review has been removed. So, this, highlights just how late I am. So, it should be no surprise that I now offer a constructive review of Dane Ortlund’s Gentle and Lowly. I say constructive because that gty.org review was a very destructive review of his book from people who are usually more helpful than hurtful. This uncharitable review seems to have motivated a great book giveaway by Crossway to overcome the negative press.
Overall, Gentle and Lowly is a helpful and refreshing read. Dane is a smart author who brings beauty to his prose. His emphasis on the humanity of Christ is helpful. So, what could be improved in the argument? Well, there is a move that Ortlund makes, if it had been stated differently, might have prepared readers to hear his argument rather than react. More on this in a moment, but first to highlight the strength of this book.
The Strength of Gentle and Lowly
To do this, I enlist Frederick Dale Bruner, who encourages us to be wary of teaching that avoids the true humanity of Christ. Listen to this wisdom from his commentary on Matthew:
Practically speaking, this means that one test of a right doctrine of the Holy Spirit in our churches is this: Is Jesus Christ allowed to be a real human being? Or is he too ghostly, yes, too divine? “This is how you will know whether it is God’s Spirit: anyone who acknowledges that Jesus Christ came as a human being has the Spirit who comes from God” (1 John 4:2 TEV).[1]
Bruner wisely realizes that the temptation to dehumanize Christ is prevalent. This is a subtle error that can creep into churches that otherwise hold a high view of Scripture. It is not likely malicious but more likely carelessness. In preaching and teaching it is almost impossible to hit every theological truth in a 40-minute sermon in a balanced way. And with the distance of seven days, much slips through the cracks. If one is not careful, listeners can over time come to a warped view of Christ. Ortlund is correct on this point.
Lest readers think that Bruner downplays the divinity of Christ, or as some have accused Ortlund, I need to let Bruner finish his thought.
As we will see in this Gospel, there is a place for witness to Jesus’ full divinity. But today, even in churches where Scripture and orthodox doctrine are taken seriously, one of the most neglected doctrines is the true humanity of Jesus.[2]
Both Bruner and Ortlund make this point in their respective writings. Yet, those who hold to the Westminster Confession should recognize that the doctrine of the incarnation is a powerful antidote to this tendency. The Son of God “was and continues to be God and man in two distinct natures and one person, forever.”[3] This union with humanity is now, since the incarnation, forever. So, the humanity of Jesus matters, and has purposes in the mind of God.
In other words, the veil of human flesh created a visual display of the transcendent holiness of Christ that could be appreciated by Jesus’s fellow humans. In Ortland’s presentation he does a masterful job of painting a beautiful picture of Jesus that is faithful to the presentation in the Gospels. The incarnation is so profound!
So, what could have been done better?
A Way to Make the Argument Stronger and gainAgreement
In his second chapter, Ortlund makes a move which would make some very uncomfortable. On the one hand, he recognizes the tendency to gravitate towards a portrait of Jesus that emphasizes “one side of Jesus more than another” (28). In the process of set-up for his argument, he makes the very moves he cautions against, that “it is impossible for the affectionate heart of Christ to be overcelebrated, made too much of, exaggerated” (emphasis original, 29).
Perhaps, if I might suggest, a better move might have been to emphasize the purpose of the incarnation along the lines of the Westminster Confession. God’s purpose in the incarnation was to create the conditions whereby the dangerous holiness of God might have fellowship with His elect. The mediatorial role of the Son of God began with the incarnation not just the cross and resurrection.
Ortlund wonderfully introduces many puritan authors in his writings including Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758). While Edwards was a transitionary puritan, he does describe the wisdom and gloriousness of the work of redemption via incarnation in a way that might have strengthened Ortlund’s argument. Edwards says in Miscellanies entry 571:
Christ took on him man’s nature for this end, that he might be under advantage for a more familiar conversation than the infinite distance of the divine nature would allow of; and such a communion and familiar conversation is suitable to the relation that Christ, stands in to believers, as their representative, their brother, and the husband of the church.[4]
If Gentle and Lowly was argued on the basis of incarnation, that is, in line with the Westminster Confession, I don’t think Ortlund would have had so much negative press.
As Jonathan Edwards observed, there was in God’s great wisdom to make the infinite distance between the holiness of God and his elect less cavernous. To do this, the Son of God veiled his deity with humanity, so He might display those gentle and lowly characteristics that Ortlund, otherwise, highlights so well.
[1] Frederick Dale Brunner, Matthew A Commentary, Vol. 1: The Christbook: Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing, 2004), 26.
Engaging in fiction, even older classic writers, can provide insight for pastors. The received stereotype of the village pastor, for better or worse, produce expectations, which should cease, nevertheless continue. Once upon a time, the minister provided stability by the expectations he ever-lived to perpetuate. The parson’s ghost often surfaces in the whispers of parishioners in rural communities today. Expectations in Oldtown parishes often catch pastors by surprise. But first, a short word about Harriet Beecher Stowe the author of Oldtown Folks…
The Romantic Irony of Harriet Beecher Stowe
Oldtown Folks, written by Harriet Beecher Stowe in 1869, is a treasure-trove of caricatures. Stowe writes from the vantage point of nostalgia. The voice of an older man wishing to preserve the memories of his New England childhood tells her story. Stowe cannot hide the romanticism of her era which often frequently breaks through as humorous critique and commendation. There is an intentional irony which pervades her writing that is both enjoyable and thought provoking.
Before we consider the Oldtown Parish, we might do well to understand Harriet Beecher Stowe’s background. Stowe was a prolific writer during the years preceding the American Civil War through the end of the Gilded age. Stowe’s husband (Calvin Ellis Stowe) was a professor of Biblical Literature at Lane Theological and then religion professor at Bowdoin College and finally at Andover Theological. Harriet grew up in the nurture of the New England Theological tradition. Her father was Lyman Beecher, a Presbyterian pastor and temperance leader. Her brother was the famous Brooklyn pastor Henry Ward Beecher.
Harriet’s most famous work was Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which attacked slavery. Not only did she fight slavery, she also severely criticized the received Calvinism from her New England forefathers. Her brother, at times creating scandal, also diverged from his upbringing by preaching a love-only gospel suited more to the growing liberalism in the Romantic period and the widening distance from their received, however distorted, New England Calvinism.
Expectations of the Minister and Wife
Stowe, a remarkably gifted writer, lets loose her arrows aimed at the problems of the past and her present. Since these issues tend to resurface in every generation, we should consider the potential misconceptions, which may arise in people’s perception of the minister and wife. Harriet writes:
” In those days, of New England, the minister and his wife were considered the temporal and spiritual superiors of everybody in the parish. The idea which has since gained ground, of regarding the minister and his family as a sort of stipendiary attachment and hired officials of the parish, to be overlooked, schooled, advised, rebuked, and chastened by every deacon and deacon’s wife or rich and influential parishioner, had not then arisen. Parson Lothrop was so calmly awful in his sense of his own position and authority, that it would have been a sight worth seeing to witness any of his parish coming to him, as deacons and influential parishioners now-a-days feel at liberty to come to their minister, with suggestions and admonitions.”
Oldtown Folks, Harriet Beecher Stowe, “Old Town and the Minister.”
In Stowe’s mouth, “now-a-days” is funny because it sounds contemporary even though she was writing over 150 years ago. Her point, however, should be well-taken. Distance does not always create deference. Sometimes distance creates unhealthy power structures. Familiarity and deference is a formula which is nearly impossible to achieve. Still, to smell like the sheep is a worthy goal. Time with the flock creates capacity for reception of the Word. Familiarity, in most cases, allows deacons to converse and not to critique. There are ways to overcome the expectations of oldtown parishes.
The Oldtown Parish Meeting-House
In those days “going to meeting” was a way of life. According to the young narrator, most could not afford to be absent from church. If they did not come for the sermon, they most certainly came to see the new bonnet on the minister’s wife. To miss seeing the spectacle would be to lose opportunity to converse during the week. In a community with little worldly entertainment at their fingertips, the duty of “going to meeting” brought the whole village into one sheep fold. To be absent from meeting could be a very lonely experience. Horace describes the eerie lonesomeness of absence from the assembly:
“I remember in my early days, sometimes when I had been left at home by reason of some of the transient ailments of childhood, how ghostly and supernatural the stillness of the whole house and village outside the meeting-house used to appear to me, how loudly the clock ticked and the flies buzzed down the window-pane, and how I listened in the breathless stillness to the distant psalm-singing, the solemn tones of the long prayer, and then to the monotone of the sermon, and then again to the closing echoes of the last hymn, and thought sadly, what if some day I should be left out, when all my relations and friends had gone to meeting in the New Jerusalem, and hear afar the music from the crystal walls.”
Oldtown Folks, Harriet Beecher Stowe, “The Old Meeting-House.”
In subsequent passages, Stowe gives recognition to the strong point of the Blue Laws and Puritan strictness of yesterday. In spite of the “rude and primitive” meeting house, Sunday created a weekly union of all the classes in the community. Sunday worship was a truly magnetic power to keep society respectable. Given the necessity to spruce up and be presentable every seventh day, Sunday worship ensured community standards. Certainly, there was a benefit of a community parish. Not only did it provide opportunity keep up appearances, it also guaranteed a reliable audience to receive biblical instruction. In an era of limited group communication, everyone heard the same messages and messaging. Stowe critiques this singular pulpit by introducing theological controversy when characters visit alternate parishes and come back chattering about new doctrines.
Expectation and Waiting on the Word
While dressed in humor, Harriet Beecher Stowe shows the drastic change in her day, which is only magnified exponentially in our own. How wonderful might our day be if the sheep waited with reverence to receive God’s Word. Perhaps these expectations in oldtown parishes could continue? Hear, hear:
“The mixed and motley congregation came in with due decorum during the ringing of the first bell, and waited in their seats the advent of the minister. The tolling of the bell was the signal for him that his audience were ready to receive him, and he started from his house. The clerical dress of the day, the black silk gown, the spotless bands, the wig and three-cornered had and black gloves, were items of professional fitness which, in our minister’s case, never failed of a due attention. When, with his wife leaning on his arm, he entered at the door of the meeting-house, the whole congregation rose and remained reverently standing until he had take his seat in the pulpit. The same reverential decorum was maintained after service was over, when all reminded standing an uncovered while the minister and his family passed down the broad aisle and left the house. Our fathers were no man-worshippers, but they regarded the minister as an ambassador from the great Sovereign of the universe, and paid reverence to Him whose word he bore in their treatment of him.”
Harriet Beecher Stowe, Oldtown Folks, “The Old Meeting-House.”
In each of these snapshots, Stowe provides commentary upon the generation at the end of the eighteenth century. In these vignettes, one can see how a Second Great Awakening might occur, or perhaps a Third should the positive stereotypes return. Yet, in the Oldtown Parish, one can see how spiritual abuse might occur. The tension of familiarity must stand against a reverence for the Word of God. Modern pastors would do well to consider the privilege, perils, and expectations of Oldtown Parishes.
Petrus Van Mastricht (1630-1706) may not be a familiar name to many evangelical pastors today, but his theological methodology persists in healthy evangelical pulpits. While unfamiliar to most evangelicals today, the New England puritans prized Mastricht as eminently practical. Cotton Mather and Jonathan Edwards sang his praises. What was it that endeared Mastricht to his New England readers?
Faithfully Prioritizing Scripture in Theology
Order is important in a system of theology. Theology is speaking about God, and so therefore must proceed from God. Turning to 1 Timothy 6:3, Mastricht defined theology as that knowledge about God which necessitates that a person live to God through Christ. To arrive at a knowledge of God, a person may appeal to natural theology (nature) or scholastic tools (philosophy), but above them all stands the revealed Word of God. The Scriptural text provides the parameter about God. While revelation is primary, Mastricht recognizes that theological knowing makes use of natural, scholastic, and philosophical means, but the Bible remains the ultimate authority over councils and philosophical schools.
The method of theological inquiry is critical so that a person might “live to God.” First, by the example of 1 Tim 6:3, Paul teaches and then admonishes. Doctrine comes first. Testing of doctrine second. If the doctrine is sound, then the doctrine is useful for self-examination and exhortation.
In a typical week, a faithful pastor opens a biblical text. Word-study, context, grammar, and progressive revelation inform the text. A big idea or doctrine arises from the study which his hearers will use in self-examination and encouragement. Often, a pastor will describe how he found the big idea or doctrine, and walk his hearers through the text, making suggestions for how one might take the text to heart.
The elevation of the biblical text above all other authorities is the defining characteristic of an evangelical pulpit. Consequently, God’s Word is of greater authority than naturalistic, scholastic, or philosophical observations. A faithful pastor will examine the Word of God to lead his people to pursue a love for God.
Practical Piety as the Goal of Theology
Quoting Bernard of Clairvaux, Mastricht argues that true theology is not enough as “one has the words of the saints but not their life.” Thus theology is not an end in itself. Theology is a means to living well and flourish in communion with God in Christ. According to Adriaan Neele, faith and love are the pillars of Mastricht’s systematic theology.
Uniquely, unlike many of his contemporary theologians, Mastricht discusses Scripture, faith, and God in that order. Perhaps Mastricht was prophetic as to the potential harm Rene Descartes’s extreme doubt might do to theological inquiry, and by necessity, practical piety. Faith is the appropriate point of entry into the doctrine of God.
The tendency of modern pulpits is to short-cut theological methodology by asking, “What needs do my audience have?” Instead, modern pastors ought to be asking, “What does Scripture say?” Calling listeners to have faith in God is necessary for piety to occur in the heart. Union with Christ through the Holy Spirit occurs by faith. Faith in God and Scripture forms piety (or love to God).
Methodology and the Great Awakening
Many remember Jonathan Edwards as the catalyst of the Great Awakening, yet the Awakening may have been a direct result of a faithful pastor who took Mastricht’s theological methodology seriously. Following Mastricht’s systematic theology, Edwards preached a series of messages on Justification by Faith to his Northampton congregation in 1734-1735.
Out of those sermons, a surprising work of God occurred. When the reviving fires dwindled, Edwards preached a reflective series in 1737-1738 on True and False Christians. Love is the second pillar of Mastricht’s system and significantly is the basis of Edwards’s next preaching series: Charity and Its Fruits. Edwards lead his congregation with Mastricht’s theological methodology right up to the high point of the Great Awakening in 1740-41.
Church growth models tend to focus on felt needs of culture. The Bible, on the other hand, shows us that people will not live to God without a love for God. Love for God comes from faith in God. And we receive God through his revealed Word.
George Herbert’s advice for preaching is helpful for young pastors fresh out of seminary. Having lived in England during the tumultuous era of James I and Charles I, Herbert (1593-1633) experienced the fallout of competing theologies and philosophy of ministry. Turning down a potentially high-level academic career, he settled for quiet ministry at St. Andrews just north of Edinburgh.
In The Country Parson, a collection of prose meditations on the duties, joys, and hardships of a pastor’s life, he offers five practical pieces of advice for preaching.
Preach Consistently and Constantly
“The pulpit is the country parson’s joy and his throne…when he intermits, he is ever very well supplied by some able man who treads in his steps.”
–George Herbert
Occasionally, a lapse in the pulpit is permissible, and even strategic. A pastor can find that he is better heard upon his return. On other occasions, he may find another voice to speak the truth from another angle more effective. But, when finding another voice to occupy the pulpit, choose one who you know will build up your work and not pull it down.
Preach to Procure Attention
Herbert’s advice reads like a modern homiletics textbook:
earnestness communicates importance
catch the eye of the listener
make age appropriate application
use of story, or sayings of others
avoid thick and heavy argumentation
remind of the significance of the sermon
be not witty, eloquent, or learned, but holy
Preach to Provoke Holy Devotion
By picking texts suited to devotion rather than controversy, a minister focuses the hearts of his congregation toward God. But a minister cannot move others if he has not “dipped and seasoned” his our words through our own heart. Appropriate exclamation of praise to God moves others to join you in exultation. Explicitly focus on the potential good desired for your people as they follow in the ways of the Lord–just like Paul and Peter. Finally, push your congregation to observe the majesty and presence of God in the breadth of of ones life. Help them see that the Spirit of God is not only fire but also water.
Preach the Whole Text
“The Parson’s Method in handling the text consists of two parts; first a plain and evident declaration of the meaning of the text; and secondly, some choice Observations draw out of the whole text, as it lies entire, and unbroken in the Scripture itself. This he thinks natural, and sweet, and grave. Whereas the other way of crumbling the text into smaller parts, as, the Person speaking, or spoken to, the subject, and the object, and the like, hath neither in it sweetness, nor gravity, nor variety, since the words are apart are not Scripture, but a dictionary, and may be considered alike in all the Scripture.
–George Herbert
The puritan style of homiletic exegesis at times overwhelmed the simple folks in the countryside, leaving them unable to process the text as a whole. There is a lesson here, in taking care not to “crumble the text” so fine that it slips through the hands of hungry souls.
Preach to the Whole Person
Rounding out his advice for preaching, George Herbert pays recognition to the old adage that the head can only the handle what the bottom can endure. So, in the end, he suggests that any longer than an hour wearies the flock rather than bring them refreshment.
George Herbert’s advice for preaching is practical in the 21st Century as it was in the 17th century. May we not crumble the text so fine that our people lose the joy and majesty of our very present Savior and God.