For the Church

Meaningful Membership at Spurgeon’s Metropolitan Tabernacle

In 1854, when Charles Spurgeon began pastoring at the New Park Street Chapel, he had a handful of deacons assisting him and a membership of 313. In just twelve weeks, they outgrew their space and began making plans to enlarge their building. As soon as that was done, they found themselves immediately in need of more space, and so began making plans to build a new building, which would eventually be the Metropolitan Tabernacle.

Spurgeon found himself caring for a congregation that was beyond his capacity to shepherd.

This mattered to Spurgeon because of his ecclesiological commitments. He was not an itinerant preacher. His church was not merely a preaching station. Rather, as a committed Baptist, Spurgeon’s ministry was rooted in his congregation of baptized believers. For all of his evangelistic preaching, Spurgeon refused to separate his call to the gospel with a call to be committed and accountable to a local church. In his careful practice of membership and discipline, Spurgeon once stated that “He would rather give up his pastorate than admit any man to the Church who was not obedient to his Lord’s command; and such a course would certainly promote the downfall of any Church that practiced it.”

For Spurgeon, this was not an idle commitment. In the first 6 1/2 years of his ministry at the New Park Street Chapel, the church took in 1,442 new members. That’s 1,442 membership interviews by a deacon, 1,442 meetings with Spurgeon, 1,442 membership visitations, 1,442 testimonies before the congregation, and 1,442 approvals by the congregation (not to mention over a thousand baptisms, as most of these were new converts). And once they were settled in the Metropolitan Tabernacle, these numbers would only increase.

Throughout his ministry, Charles Spurgeon pursued meaningful, regenerate church membership. In doing so, his church became an engine for gospel-ministry all around the world.

How did he do this? Here are five ways:

1.) A Careful Membership Process

In the February 1869 edition of the Sword and the Trowel, Spurgeon provides this six-step description of their membership process:

An enquirer meets with one of the elders on a Wednesday evening and shares with them their testimony.
When satisfied, the elder records their stories in the Testimony Books of the church and scheduled to meet with the pastor for an interview.
If the pastor is satisfied, at a congregational meeting, he will nominate an elder or church member as a visitor, “to enquire as to the moral character and repute of the candidate.”
If the visitor is satisfied, he will invite the candidate to attend with him at the next convenient congregational meeting to come before the church, answer any questions that may be put from the church.
After the statement before the church, the candidate withdraws, and the visitor gives his report. The church then takes a vote to receive him into membership.
The person is publicly given the right-hand of fellowship after being baptized and participating in the next communion service of the church.

With so many applying for membership, Spurgeon refined and made this process more efficient over the years, but never in a way that compromised the thorough and careful consideration of every person coming into membership.

2.) Working for Meaningful Membership

In bringing people into membership, Spurgeon was concerned not simply to have people on the church rolls, but making sure that these people were continuing in their profession of faith. In his last sermon to the Pastors’ College, Spurgeon urged his students,

Let us not keep names on our books when they are only names. Certain of the good old people like to keep them there, and cannot bear to have them removed; but when you do not know where individuals are, nor what they are, how can you count them? They are gone to America, or Australia, or to heaven, but as far as your roll is concerned they are with you still. Is this a right thing? It may not be possible to be absolutely accurate, but let us aim at it… Keep your church real and effective, or make no report. A merely nominal church is a lie. Let it be what it professes to be.

Spurgeon was persistent at regualarly tracking those who came to the Lord’s Table. Upon joining the church, members were given a communion card, divided by perforation into twelve numbered parts, one of which was to be delivered every month at the communion. These tickets would checked by the elders and if any member was “absent more than three months. This enabled the church to work towards meaningful membership by providing better care and discipleship, or by removing those members from the membership.

3.) Congregational Meetings as Discipleship

Because each candidate needed to appear before the congregation and be approved by the congregation, congregational meetings became an essential part of the life of the church. With the exception of the annual meeting in January, congregational meetings at the Tabernacle were almost entirely devoted to membership matters. And these meetings could last a long time. In the church minute books, on May 18th 1860, we see recorded a congregational meeting in which 42 candidates appeared before the church, each giving testimony to their conversion. This meeting began at 2PM, and according to Spurgeon’s notes in the margin, “This most blessed meeting lasted till a late hour at night. Bless the Lord.”

However, these congregational meetings were not merely about church business. No, these meetings were meant to be edifying. They were an important part of the discipleship of the church, complementing the Word ministry of the church. In the telling of their conversions, the congregation heard not only stories of people who were converted under Spurgeon’s preaching, but also of those who were saved through other ministries of the church; because a member invited them to church, shared the gospel with them, or faithfully prayed for them for decades. In those meetings, the congregation gained a vision for the power of God to save and of their role in bringing the gospel to the lost.

4.) Calling Elders

When Spurgeon first began at the New Park Street Chapel, the church only recognized the offices of pastor and deacons. However, as the church grew, the work of caring for the spiritual and temporal needs of the congregation became too much for the deacons to handle alone. And so, in 1859 at a January congregational meeting, Spurgeon made a biblical case for the office of elder, dedicated to the spiritual care of the church.

These elders would go on to labour alongside Spurgeon. The February 1869 edition of the S&T describes the work of their elders like this:

The seeing of enquirers, the visiting of candidates for church membership, the seeking out of absentees, the caring for the sick and troubled, the conducting of prayer-meetings, catechumen and Bible-classes for the young men – these and other needed offices our brethren the Elders discharge for the church. One Elder is maintained by the church for the especial purpose of visiting our sick poor, and looking after the church-roll, that this may be done regularly and efficiently.

Spurgeon lamented that most of the Baptist churches of his day did not have the office of elder implemented and encouraged them to follow the NT pattern in this way.

5.) Cultivating a Working Church

An accurate membership roll is not a goal in and of itself. Rather, Spurgeon understood that a congregation full of people who genuinely loved Jesus and believed the gospel was an army that could shake the world. And so he constantly called his people to do something for God’s kingdom.

Oh to get a working church! The German churches, when our dear friend Mr. Oncken was alive always carried out the rule of asking every member, “What are you going to do for Christ?” and they put the answer down in a book. The one thing that was required of every member was that he should continue doing something for the Savior. If he ceased to do anything, it was a matter for church discipline, for he was an idle professor, and could not be allowed to remain in the church like a drone in a hive of working bees. He must do or go.

Out of the Metropolitan Tabernacle, over a hundred of churches were planted, hundreds of pastors and missionaries were trained and sent out, dozens upon dozens of charitable organizations were begun, publications and tracts and pamphlets were distributed throughout the world, and the impact of this church continues to be felt today.

Not every church will be a Metropolitan Tabernacle and not every pastor will be a Spurgeon. This is never the goal. The goal is for every church and every pastor is to be faithful; faithful in doctrinal purity, faithful in guarding the membership, faithful in active gospel ministry. In this, Spurgeon and the Metropolitan Tabernacle remains a model for pastors and churches today.

Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared at Spurgeon.org, the internet home of the Spurgeon Library.

The Happy Dilemma of a Growing Preacher

By / Oct 22

I am preaching through the book of Ephesians. This past week, however, I chose to pause my study until the new year and preach something that directly pointed to Christmas.

Seeing it was the staff’s last week in the office before the holidays, I decided to pull of file and preach an old sermon.

I landed on a Christmas message that I preached five years ago. It was a seven-page manuscript. At this point, I labor to keep my manuscripts between five to six full pages. So all I had to edit the sermon down one page, set it to memory, and pray myself hot for preaching.

Or so I thought.

The more I read the manuscript during the week, the more uncomfortable I was with it. I reread several commentaries. I thought through new insights. I sought clearer ways to make my points. With Sunday fast approaching, I had spent as much time with this sermon as one I produce from scratch.

I tried to ditch the sermon altogether but could not. So I wrestled with a manuscript I preached five years ago. The exegesis did not change. I used the same outline. My theology was the same. But something was different.

It wasn’t until Sunday night – after struggling through the sermon twice – that I figured out what changed. Me!

My biblical convictions have only grown harder over the years. But the way I explain, apply, and illustrate has definitely changed. As I grow older – and grow up, I hope – certain aspects of my preaching style are inevitably changing with me.

The fact that I can’t just grab any sermon from years past and take it to the pulpit makes preparation more difficult. But it is a happy dilemma.

A growing child has to get new clothes. And so do growing preachers.

Editor’s Note: This originally published at HBCharlesJr.com

Dune: A Reflection

By / Oct 21

Over the past year and a half, readers have been scouring dusty used book stores for a copy of an almost-forgotten piece of science fiction: Frank Herbert’s Dune. In anticipation of the Fall 2021 movie, readers are eager to prepare themselves by digging into the 800-page masterpiece. I stand guilty of such an undertaking myself – I am currently on page 535. In an effort to keep from spoiling the book (or the movie, whichever you see first), I write this in the midst of experiencing an unexpectedly emotional novel.

Whether you like science fiction or not (I do not, usually), Dune has a way of translating the complexity of a different universe, different thought patterns, different struggles and motivations, and pulling the reader into the thoughts of the characters. While the book is filled with sand worms, spaceships, body shields, and awesome weapons that only the dedicated can pronounce, what Dune has taught me most thus far is the internal battle that rages inside of each character. Herbert employs a writing style that bounces back and forth between the internal thoughts and cares of characters within their personal conversations. This matters, because the reader of Dune witnesses the reactionary thoughts of each character to the words of those around them. We know when they are confused, despairing, hating, and most importantly when they are attempting to numb their fear. Dune is filled with fear. On a planet covered in sand with very little water available to its inhabitants, the reader gets a window into the internal ‘survival of the fittest’ thoughts rampant in every chapter. What I’ve noticed most though – and the impetus of this article – is that very often a phrase is repeated in order to numb, suppress, and overcome fear. Characters cite their scriptures:

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

After reminding themselves of this axiom, they move forward with the will to face their situation. What bothers me as I read this science-fiction with Christian eyes is that God has given us emotions not to be suppressed, but to be used and redeemed for his glory. Of course, this is not to nitpick the brilliance of the novel or the purpose for Herbert inserting it into the narrative, but how hopeful I get when I turn away from reading and remember that God is ok with me experiencing fear and does not command me to get myself under control. Actually, God commands me to fear Him and out of that emotional reality, obey him. Does God delight in us being crippled by fear? Absolutely not! God is not a God of anxiety and is deeply saddened by his children who are overcome by fear. He hears our concerns and speaks into them (Ps. 94:19). He calms our fear out of care for us (1 Peter 5:6-7). And what’s more, He has given us the emotion of fear to protect us from danger, identify what we value when it is threatened, and to humble us. When we fear, we see our neediness. When we fear, we sense something is wrong around or inside of us. When we fear, we turn to something or someone for help. It’s actually a huge grace for God to allow his children to experience fear – otherwise we might be overwhelmingly passionless, stupidly courageous, proud, and arrogant.

So one way of dealing with this in a scary world covered in sand with very little water is to never address or acknowledge the emotional reaction to your circumstances (several times the main character Paul curses himself for reacting with emotion). What this effectively does (and you see this play out in the book) is makes the individual the Savior. It also makes self-preservation the goal. Re-read the quote: “…Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration…Only I will remain.” There is some truth to the fact that anxiety weighs a heart down (Prov. 12:25), but this is the wrong motivation to put away fear. Jesus never tells his disciples (and us) to not fear so that we can survive. He never gives fear the credit or power to be able to obliterate us. Instead, God looks at fear for what it is: an emotion given to us for a purpose. Then, he teaches us how to handle it, direct it, respond to it, and live despite it. He calls us to cast not only our fears on him, but all of our cares. Every care we have he asks to take off of our shoulders and carry for us, to help us face. Jesus is perfect in his love for us. What does this mean? It means that he deals perfectly with our overwhelming fear, anxiety, and distress because he loves us (1 John 4:18). Far too often, we do not clue him in to what is overwhelming us. Too often, we act like the characters in this book who slap themselves for being afraid. And still, we neglect our fear-calming Savior who died to release us from our fears.

If you are overwhelmed by dread, fear, anxiety, tension, or nerves, and find that you are responding to these emotions like the characters I’ve mentioned in Dune, you will be for yourself a poor Savior. But Jesus has grace for you, and desires that you are not the only one remaining when fear leaves you. He wants to be standing next to you, protecting you, and telling you truths about who you are to Him and how he has done a perfect work to give you redemption and victory over fear.

A Brief History of How Friendships Like Yours Can Change the World

By Mike Brooks / Oct 21

Every Christian wants to make a difference. But few of us know how to turn that desire into action. We look around at all the needs and opportunities, and we think to ourselves, “So . . . what do I already have that can make actually a difference?”

There are countless ways to answer that question. But here’s one easy answer that’s usually overlooked: “Your friends!” Let me explain.

Wilberforce’s Clapham Society

In the late 18^th century, a group of influential friends coalesced around the personality and vision of William Wilberforce, the charismatic MP for Yorkshire who successfully led a decades-long abolitionist campaign in Britain. Though Wilberforce the man united the group, it was his cause \ that drew this eclectic collective together. They’re known to history as the Clapham Society (or the Clapham Sect), and they draw their name from a well-known district in south London where many members lived and met together. Apart from Wilberforce, the Clapham Society included Hannah More, John Newton, John Venn, Henry Thornton, Thomas Clarkson, and several others.

In his excellent biography of Wilberforce, William Hauge describes this extraordinary network of friendships. He writes,

Wholly relaxed in each other’s company, they observed no restrictions in wandering into each other’s homes and gardens, discussing any great cause or biblical text that came to mind. . . . The intimacy they developed was remarkable, it being their custom “to consider every member of that coterie as forming part of a large united family, who should behave to each other with the same simplicity and absence of formality, which, in the usual way, characterises intercourse only among the nearest of relatives.”[1]

Almost all of the members of the Clapham Society were evangelical Anglicans. Motivated by a clear biblical vision and distinctly Christian goals, they initiated a program of public reform that effectively reshaped British national and religious life. They partnered together to plant churches, publish books and tracts, agitate for political reform, pioneer ministries, and promote a host of philanthropic causes. The total list of their collective achievements is simply extraordinary.[2]

Nearly 200 years later, it’s worth asking the question, “What made this group of saints so successful?” In God’s providence, we can point to intimate Christian friendship, strategically leveraged for kingdom enterprise. They supported one another, reinforced one another, and gave one another the strength to carry on, especially when things looked bleak. Like many saints before and after them, the Clapham Society understood a fundamental principle of Christian experience: God gives us friendships because we’re more fruitful serving him together rather than alone.

Of course, God sometimes raises up lonely voices that cry in the wilderness. He uses men and women in relatively isolated spheres. I think of the subtitle of Iain Murray’s J. C. Ryle biography: Prepared to Stand Alone.[3]

History

But God usually supplies his people with friendships to create the context for God-honoring cooperation. We see this story over and over throughout history.

Consider the English Baptist Missionary Society, born out of the friendships between Andrew Fuller, William Carey, John Ryland, and John Sutcliffe. God used the mutual bonds between these men to sustain extraordinary efforts for God’s glory. David Calhoun has written of the intimate network of friends that worked together to make Princeton Seminary such a success throughout the nineteenth century.[4] John Newton, the dissolute slave-trader-turned-evangelical-pastor, and William Cowper, the troubled but brilliant poet, partnered together to co-pastor a church and to write a hymn book. In the preface to Olney Hymns, Newton wrote that in addition to promoting the evangelical faith, the hymn book served a second purpose: “It was likewise intended as a monument to perpetuate the remembrance of an intimate and endeared friendship.”[5]

Church history is full of Christian friends who have said, “We both love Christ, his church, and one another. Let’s do something for God’s glory together!”

Today

We see this happening in our own day, too. Well-known ministries were born of friendship, such as The Gospel Coalition and the Together for the Gospel conference. How many churches, missions efforts, seminaries, schools, non-profits, and benevolent ministries have been started through strategic friendships? It’s simply remarkable what Christian friends can accomplish when they work together.

The Bible recognizes the sanctified synergy of friendship. Consider the memorable language of Ecclesiastes:

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken. (Ecc. 4:9–12)

What if more Christians began to view their friendships as stewardships from God? We should all actively look for opportunities to leverage our friendships for practical, kingdom-minded endeavors.

Lessons for Us

Take stock of your closest friendships. Who has God placed in your life? Are there other Christians in your orbit with whom you share substantial like-mindedness and mutual affection? Now ask the questions: What holy burdens do you share? What ministries are you both passionate about? What needs keep you up at night? What gifts has God given you and your friends? Do they complement one another? What might God be pleased to do within the circle of your own friendships?

I warmly encourage you to consider these questions. Perhaps you can do so with some close friends.

Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared at the 9Marks blog and is used with permission.

Footnotes:

[1] William Hague, William Wilberforce: The Life of the Great Anti-Slave Trade Campaigner (Orlando, FL: Harcourt), 219.

[2] Ibid., 220–21.

[3] Iain Murray, J. C. Ryle: Prepared to Stand Alone (Carlisle, PA: The Banner of Truth Trust, 2016).

[4] David B. Calhoun, Princeton Seminary, Vol I: Faith and Learning, 1812–1868 and Princeton Seminary, Vol II: The Majestic Testimony, 1869–1929 (Carlisle, PA: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1994).

[5] John Newton and William Cowper, Olney Hymns: In Three Books on Select Texts of Scripture, on Occasional Subjects, On the Progress and Changes of Spiritual Life (London: J. Nisbet and Co., 1799), iii.

The Nicene Creed: Where Did it Come From?

By Mike Brooks / Oct 19

Many Christians today are familiar with the Apostles’ Creed. But from the perspective of the whole church, the Nicene Creed is even more significant. It originated earlier than the final version of the Apostles’ Creed; and unlike that one, the Nicene Creed is used by both western and eastern Christians. Where did the Nicene Creed come from—and what makes it so important that millions of Christians still recite it every Sunday?

To trace the history of the Nicene Creed, which centers on the relationship of Christ’s deity to God the Father’s, we must go back to the period of the ancient church. Yet in truth, that isn’t far enough back. The roots of the doctrine of the Trinity—that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are distinct from one another, yet are one God—can be found in Israel’s understanding of how Yahweh interacts with his creation.

The Trinity in the Old Testament?

The early Israelites viewed God as enthroned in a heavenly temple. The heavens were located just above the solid blue dome called the “firmament” which we appear to see when we observe the sky. We know the Israelites understood God to be sitting in a temple resting upon the firmament because twice in Scripture, his people looked up and saw him there. In Exodus 24:9–10, we read that Moses and his assistants went up a mountain and “saw the God of Israel. There was under his feet as it were a pavement of sapphire stone, like the very heaven for clearness.” Similarly, Ezekiel 1:26 records that “above the firmament over [the living creatures’] heads was the likeness of a throne, in appearance like a sapphire stone; on the likeness of the throne was a likeness with the appearance of a man” (i.e., Yahweh, v. 28). For the Israelites, God was up there in the sapphire-blue heaven, resting his feet on the firmament. He certainly didn’t come down like other gods to wreak havoc, impregnate women, or do any of the other nonsense that the pagans believed.

So, then, how did God interact with his world? Scripture gives us numerous words and images to describe how God’s transcendent presence becomes immanent in our world (that is, becomes experiential or even tangible for us). These mediating influences include the Messenger of the Lord, the divine hand or finger, natural or weather-based phenomena, the breath (or wind, or Spirit) of God, fire, and perhaps most important of all—his word. Among other things, God’s word (Hebrew, dabar) is creative (Ps. 33:6; Gen. 1:3), impactful (Ps. 107:20, 147:18; Is. 9:8), and revelatory (Ps. 119:105; or any of the prophets). The Old Testament reveals that God’s word makes things happen in his creation.

Before we can turn to Christian reflection about these things, we need to make a stop with the ancient Greeks between the two testaments. The Greek philosophers talked a lot about the logos, which was their word for “word.” The logos can be divided into two kinds: the “indwelling word” and the “uttered word.” Imagine a family sitting around on a Friday night at dinnertime. The dad gets an idea in his head: pizza night! He’ll order a big pepperoni pizza and the family will be delighted. But it’s only when Dad shouts the word “Pizza!” to his family that cheers go up and stomachs start growling. The indwelling word in his mind can only make an impact on the world by being uttered. This is how the ancient Greeks thought about words.

The Theology of the Word

Scholars debate whether the apostle John was thinking of the Hebrew concept of dabar or the Greek concept of the logos when he wrote, “In the beginning was the Word” (1:1). Maybe it was a combination of both. In any case, John said that the Word—the preincarnate Christ—was there “in the beginning with God” (v. 2). But then he went on to say something else: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (1:14). Now that God’s indwelling Word has been uttered into the world, he is able to make a physical impact with his tangible, human body. And of course, the Word’s greatest impact was to submit that body to crucifixion, then attain bodily resurrection for the salvation of the cosmos.

During the centuries after the apostle John penned his gospel, the early church fathers—especially those known at the Apologists—used these ideas to explain their faith to the pagans. The Johannine concept of the Word, understood in light of Greek philosophy, came in handy to show how the Christians, on the one hand, had no pantheon of gods but were monotheists like the Jews; yet on the other hand, worshiped Jesus as Lord alongside his heavenly Father. How can God be both singular and manifold?

The early Apologists compared God’s oneness to the unity between the speaker and the spoken word—just like, in the illustration above, there is unity between the dad who cries “pizza!” and the word that inseparably belongs to him. Yet the uttered word is impactful in ways that the word within his mind is not. This makes the spoken word distinct from the speaker. Do you see how unity and distinctness are kept in balance here? The Johannine way of thinking about Jesus—known as the Logos Theology—made sense to many ancient Christians. And they even had Old Testament precedent for it in the concept of God’s dabar.

Equal or Inferior?

Over time, some ancient church theologians began to consider whether the Logos was inferior to the God who speaks. Inferior in what way? For one thing, the Logos might not be eternal, just as the word “pizza” didn’t always exist in the dad’s mind. He thought of the word, then he uttered it—but he himself preexisted it. So the dad was already there at the moment he thought of pizza. His mental word started then. Words always have a shorter life than the thinkers who bring them forth.

The Logos also might be inferior to God because he is sent out. Words are like our messengers that we dispatch to do our will. We shoot them out when we want something done. “Scalpel!” cries the surgeon, and she receives it. “Pass the salt,” we say, and the shaker comes our way. The sending mind has more authority than the words sent out to do the mind’s bidding. So maybe Jesus the Logos is inferior because he’s the sent one? Didn’t he say that he came to obey his Father and do his will? In fact, Jesus even said, “The Father is greater than I” (John 14:28).

This theological subordinationism is reinforced by the fact that Jesus is God’s Son. In the ancient world, sons were dispatched by mighty men or patriarchs to bring the father’s message (as in the Parable of the Landowner, Matthew 21:33–46). So for these reasons, some ancient church theologians began to think of Jesus/the Son/the Logos as inferior to God—both in time (Jesus is not eternal) and in status (Jesus is not equal in divinity).

Editor’s note: This post originally appeared at the blog for Credo Magazine. You can read the remainder of Dr. Litfin’s article in the latest issue of Credo Magazine.

The Most Important Thing

By / Oct 13

When wars have ceased, international leaders have become dust and the poverty of their souls is revealed; when enterprises crumble and the last dream has evaporated; when death has claimed the final person, and those alive are changed for their eternal future; when everything earthly and mundane is over, and each person resides in heaven or hell—what will be important? And what among all that is important will be the most important?

This is a question worth thinking about, because finding out what is important in the end will, or at least should, tell you what is important now. That which is important for eternity, that is, for billions of years and more, is surely the most important thing to God for this brief wisp of time called human history. And it should be even more important for you, since you live here for only a small fraction of that wisp.

What if, in your hurry and your worry about so many little things, you actually missed the most important thing?

That which is most important for all time, as is well known only to some, is Jesus Christ. I mean, not just Jesus Christ as a being, but Jesus Christ in the light of what he has done—his life, death, and resurrection. It is a huge gamble to dismiss the one who is the center of everything. There is, in fact, no hope for such a person.

You know what it means to forget the most important element of some concoction—like the sugar in sugar cookies, or the coffee in your coffee and cream, or the lens in your glasses, or the warhead on your nuclear weapon. But some of you have forgotten Christ, and his death and resurrection, as if he were not essential to life and eternity. He is, rather, everything related to life and eternity. This is why I say there is no hope for such an omission.

Christ’s perfect life, his sacrificial and substitutionary death, and his victorious authenticating resurrection provide the foundation of all hope. As Dr. J. Gresham Machen (1881-1937) stated, “Christianity begins with a triumphant indicative.” God declares that something is done on behalf of those who will come to him—Jesus lived without sin as the perfect lamb, took on their sin and died in their place as the adequate sacrifice, and was raised bodily over the power of sin and death for them.

To think little or not at all about the centerpiece of history, is to guarantee that you will have no place in heaven. It is not enough to merely be religious by going to church on holidays or even every Sunday, or doing a few other well-meaning duties. It is not religion that makes you acceptable to God. You must be “accepted in the Beloved,” that is, in Christ’s merits alone. (Eph. 1: 6) Only trusting in Christ, resting your confidence in the one who lived, died, and was raised again, can assure you of heaven.

To believe otherwise, to add your little bit of religious activity to Christ as if you could impress God, is actually insulting to God. Either Christ is sufficient or he stands in need of you to satisfy God’s wrath and to provide your acceptance before the Father. The declaration of Scripture is that he does not need you; rather, you need him, for without a living relationship with him through faith, you could not possible be received by the Father. Christ cried out on the cross, “It is finished,” meaning, it is paid in full. But “If righteousness comes by the law, then Christ died needlessly.” (Gal. 2: 21)

You may say, “Anyone can begin a religion like Christianity.” But you give away the fact that you think of Christianity as only a system of duties. You are wrong. It is about Christ and what he has done that could not be done by any other. If you are merely a moralist, using some Christian terminology at times, don’t think you have become a true Christian. Moralism damns, in and of itself. Christianity is not based on what you do, but on Christ, his death, and his resurrection. If this is too much to swallow now, you will avow it later, but sadly, when it is too late.

It does not have to be this way. You may put your trust in Christ, terminating your confidence in yourself as sufficient to please God. You may enjoy now, before the end of time and throughout the rest of time, an authentic relationship with him. There is a world, an eternal world, of difference between trusting him and dismissing him as will one day be completely understood.

It is Christ who will one day be seen by all, rightly, to be the center of everything, the apex of history, the hope of mankind, the reference point of the universe, the conversation and exaltation of heaven, the eternal joy of millions, and the eternal bane of even more. And it is now that you should trust him.

Editor’s Note: This originally published at Christian Communicators Worldwide

Pastors, Fight Against Fear of Man by Fighting for the Fear of the Lord

By Mike Brooks / Oct 12

When I began pastoral ministry, I didn’t realize it would be my job to disappoint people. I had to tell a young man he wasn’t ready for ministry. I had to counsel a couple that they shouldn’t get married. I had to inform the church that Sunday’s text means exactly what they don’t want it to mean. Pastoral ministry is full of no-win decisions. Because of this, ministry is a miserable place for a pastor who needs everyone’s approval.

If we knew that before 2020, we know it even more now.

FEAR OF MAN & PASTORAL MINISTRY

This sinful desire for the approval of others is often called “the fear of man.” We were made to desire loving relationships, acceptance into a community, and the favor of those in authority over us. But the fear of man multiplies and warps these desires into an insatiable hunger for applause, honor, and status.

In pastoral leadership, this wrongly placed fear surfaces in many ways. It makes a pastor perform in the pulpit, but never quite preach from it. It makes him hide in his study with the light off, afraid the bully member might swing by. It fixates him on what would make his favorite professor proud, so much that he forgets to ask what his people need. It addicts him to fame or internet attention. It makes him easily manipulated by those who know how to hand out honor, shame, and pressure.

Every pastor struggles against this in different ways, but their hearts all say the same thing: “I need approval to be happy.” Young pastor, learn to overcome the fear of man now.

That’s easy to say. But how?

FIGHTING FEAR OF MAN

There’s a temptation to fight fear of man with self-confidence or a foolhardy “who cares what anyone thinks” attitude. But that won’t work. After all, humans were made to revere something. The question isn’t whether we will tremble, but what will make us tremble. The only pastor who won’t tremble before the honor and shame of others is a pastor who has learned to tremble before God. This must be part of why, again and again, the Bible urges leaders to fear the Lord (Exo. 18:21; Deut. 17:18–20; 1 Sam. 12:14; 2 Sam. 23:3–4; 2 Chron. 19:7; Neh. 5:9, 15; Ps. 2:10–11, Lk. 18:2).

The fear of the Lord is a glad trembling before God that leads to humility and obedience. Like the word “thrill,” the word “fear” can be either positive or negative. It’s possible to be afraid of God, but the man who rightly fears God enjoys the thrill, the breathlessness, the awe of glimpsing God’s glory. This man knows his own smallness—and doesn’t mind it.

Over the years, this trembling disposition will form a man into a courageous and gentle pastor. He’ll learn to sit patiently while a church member scolds him or hurls false accusations at him. When that conversation is over, he can love that member even more than he did before. He can do this because he does not need others to tell him he is great. He is so consumed with God’s greatness that he is free from the fear of man.

Trembling before God does more than help a pastor overcome the fear of man. It actually becomes a source of strength for his leadership, giving him integrity (Deut. 6:2; Job 1:1, 8, 2:3, 4:6; Prov. 6:6) and wisdom (Ps. 111:10; Prov. 1:7) while also blessing his wife and children (Ps. 128:3–4: Prov. 31:30). These qualities make him a more credible and effective leader. Some church members may not like the direction he takes Wednesday night Bible study, but they will recognize a gentle father whose children obey him. They will notice when he sorts out a sticky staff situation with God-fearing wisdom. A member whose husband left after two years will notice when her pastor leads for twenty years without a moral failing. In the fear of God he earns their trust while he also becomes a better steward of that trust.

WHAT YOUR CHURCH NEEDS

Future pastor, local churches need unwavering leaders who fear the Lord. They don’t need you to meet their expectations, but they do need to see your hand tremble when you hold up your Bible. They need to know that you would rather have the whole room turn on you than utter one word that displeases the Spirit. That means they need you to close the door to your study, read your Bible, and marvel at the God who forgives sinners. They need you to learn the fear of the Lord.

Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared the 9Marks blog and is used with permission.

The Christian Creeds: An Introduction

By Mike Brooks / Oct 12

From the very beginning, creeds and creedal formulations have played a crucial role in the beliefs and practices of Christian churches. Some Christians (usually in free church traditions) deny the creeds any authority in teaching or value in worship. But this rejection of tradition usually stems from a misunderstanding of the function of the creeds and the classical Protestant understanding of sola Scriptura. Creeds have no independent “authority” on their own, but they are “authoritative” or normative to the degree that they faithfully represent what Scripture teaches.[1] As faithful interpretations of Scripture, creeds can be a tremendous asset to us today.

Creeds are in the Bible

The creeds may have been formulated centuries after the last books of the Bible were written, but there are numerous models for creedal formulations within Scripture. Consider the numerous passages in Scripture that summarize and profess the faith of Israel and the early church in creedal forms. The Shema (Deut. 6:4–5) was a simple, concise profession of Israel’s faith: “Listen, Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.”[2] This pronouncement declared the uniqueness of Israel’s God and the mandate of his people. The psalter contains liturgical formulas like “his faithful love endures forever” (Ps. 100:5; 106:1; 118:1–29; Ps. 136:1–26) which helped ingrain Israel’s faith into the hearts of their hearers. New Testament epistles contain early hymns to Christ that served an important liturgical function in the early church (Phil. 2:6–11; Col. 1:15–20; 1 Tim. 3:16).[3] Given these biblical precedents, it should not surprise us that the early church replicated this pattern in her own expressions of faith and worship.

Creeds summarize the grand narrative of Scripture

Yes, some of the creeds do employ philosophical concepts, but they are not mere abstractions rooted in speculative contemplation. Instead, as N. T. Wright astutely observes, creeds are “portable narratives” that

consciously tell the story—precisely the scriptural story!—from creation to new creation, focusing particularly, of course, on Jesus and summing up what Scripture says about him in a powerful, brief narrative (a process that we can already see happening within the New Testament itself). When the larger story needs to be put within a particular discourse, for argumentative, didactic, rhetorical, or whatever other purpose, it makes sense, and is not inimical to its own character, to telescope it together and allow it, suitably bagged up, to take its place in that new context—just as long as we realize that it will collect mildew if we leave it in its bag forever.[4]

While they are not meant to be substitutes for Scripture, the creeds do model for us a succinct way of talking about the whole biblical storyline of creation, fall, redemption, and restoration. The Apostles’ Creed is a clear example of this kind of discourse:

I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth,
and believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,
who was conceived from the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary,
who suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried,
descended into hell, rose again from the dead on the third day,
ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father,
who will come again to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting. Amen.

The creed begins with the beginning of the story—God is “creator of heaven and earth”—and ends with the end of the story—the Son is coming again “to judge the living and the dead,” bringing with him “the resurrection of the body” and “life everlasting.” While it does not explicitly describe the Fall, it does speak of “the forgiveness of sins” needed because of human fallenness. It does not directly address the history of Israel, but it does shout about Israel’s Messiah who fulfills the promises given to Israel.

Creeds explain biblical revelation

Christians are often curious why we value creeds so much when Scripture itself is a clear and sufficient authority for faith and practice. While Scripture is the supreme source of divine revelation and the only norming norm for our faith, it still must be interpreted (Neh. 8:8; Acts 8:30–35). Individual readers interpret the Bible to make sense of its meaning. Sermons are interpretations of the biblical message that include explanation and application. The same is true of the early creeds: they are explanations of what the Bible says about Jesus Christ. We certainly don’t need the creeds to interpret Scripture, as the message of Scripture has an internal clarity that can be grasped with the illuminating aid of the Holy Spirit. However, the creeds are helpful guides that resulted from centuries of reflection on the biblical message.

The early church faced serious external challenges from heretical sects who, while giving lip service to biblical authority, undermined its meaning. So, how did they respond to those, like Arius, who used biblical prooftexts to make his case for his errant view of the Son? As R. P. C. Hanson explained, the “theologians of the Christian Church were slowly driven to a realization that the deepest questions which face Christianity cannot be answered in purely biblical language, because the questions are about the meaning of biblical language itself.”[5] Though the creeds used some conceptual language that would have been foreign to the human authors of Scripture (i.e., homoousion), they expressed the same judgments made by biblical authors. The Nicene Fathers made the same judgment about Jesus as Paul did—that he is truly equal to God and worthy of devotion and service (Phil. 2:5–11)—but did so using philosophical categories that would have been familiar to their context.[6]

Editor’s Note: The full version of Dr. Putman’s article is here. This post originally appeared at the blog for Credo Magazine.

Endnotes

[1]. See Rhyne R. Putman, “Baptists, Sola Scriptura, and the Place of the Christian Tradition,” in Baptists and the Christian Tradition: Towards an Evangelical Baptist Catholicity, edited by Matthew Y. Emerson, Christopher W. Morgan, and R. Lucas Stamps (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2020), 27–54.

[2]. A helpful overview of these biblical creedal formulations can be found in Michael F. Bird, What Christians Ought to Believe: An Introduction to Christian Doctrine through the Apostle’s Creed (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2016), 19–21.

[3]. Steven E. Fowl, The Story of Christ in the Ethics of Paul: An Analysis of the Function of the Hymnic Material in the Pauline Corpus, JSNTSS 36 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990).

[4]. N. T. Wright, “Reading Paul, Thinking Scripture,” in Scripture’s Doctrine and Theology’s Bible: How the New Testament Shapes Christian Dogmatics, ed. Markus Bockmuehl and Alan J. Torrance (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008), 64.

[5]. R. P. C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy, 318-381 (London/New York: T&T Clark, 1988), xxi.

[6]. David S. Yeago, “The New Testament and Nicene Dogma: A Contribution to the Recovery of Theological Exegesis,” in Theological Interpretation of Scripture: Classic and Contemporary Readings, ed. Stephen E. Fowl (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1997), 93.

Return, O Wanderer: An Open Letter

By / Oct 11

Dear friend,

It’s been a while. We’ve seen each other in passing a couple of times. Your pictures popped up in my news feed. I think I might’ve seen you at the grocery store last week.

What I really mean to say is, it’s been a while since we fellowshipped.

The last time we had fellowship—where we prayed, laughed, and bore one another’s burdens —was probably more than a year ago. Back then, we were confused and afraid. We really thought that a plague of biblical proportions was about to end our way of life.

Truthfully, we did see—and are still seeing—the judgment-hand of God. We, as a people, have turned our back on the Lord and should expect to reap the consequences. Yet with any judgment, there is mercy. God is never as harsh with us as we deserve. Even his most severe chastisements are intermingled with grace. He does not treat believers according to their sins (Ps. 103:10), and he makes the sun to rise on the just and the unjust (Matt. 5:45).

So what was—or is—the nature of the judgment we’re experiencing? The Apostle John records for us Christ’s words for the church in Ephesus:

But I have this against you, that you have left your first love. Therefore remember from where you have fallen, and repent and do the deeds you did at first; or else I am coming to you and will remove your lampstand out of its place⁠—unless you repent. (Rev. 2:4-5 NASB)

Hear me, friend: this is for us. Our Lord has something against us and is disciplining his people. There are too many reasons to discuss them here. But note the solemn warning: “I will remove your lampstand.” In Revelation 1:20, we’re told that the lampstands represent local church communities. Jesus is saying that unless we repent and renew our love for Christ, our assembly will disintegrate. The church planted will be uprooted. This little light of ours won’t shine.

This is a weighty threat. Remember what happened in Jerusalem following Pentecost? The first generation of believers became devoted to learning from the apostles, coming together in communion, and selling their possessions to care for one another’s needs. Through their faithfulness, their little group quickly grew as “the Lord was adding to their number day by day those who were being saved” (Acts 2:47).

Now, imagine a church community like this extinguished.

Friend, doesn’t this feel weighty to you? Does your soul not ache for the type of fellowship witnessed in that passage—the type of fellowship Jesus threatened to withhold from his wayward Bride? How dare we cut ourselves off from such grace?

If Scripture considers it a judgment for a local church assembly to be snuffed out, then why would any individual casually exclude himself from the church—in effect, replicating that kind of judgment on a personal level?

We must gather with the local church. The Book of Hebrews exhorts us:

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near. (Heb. 10:23-25)

Let’s put it another way. If you learned that tomorrow Jesus was going to return (let’s pretend for a second that it’s possible to know this ), and you had only to meet him in a given location, wouldn’t you move Heaven and earth to be there? The answer is an easy yes, right?

We make much of the final Day of the Lord, but far less of the Lord’s Day that comes every week—the day Christ promises his presence with us as we gather.

My friend, I’m not simply trying to hotly rebuke you but to win you back to Christ. Consider this. What married couple have you known who chose to separate and were happier and more intimate as a result? None? So how can we sever ourselves from the vital Vine, our Lord, fail to commune with him as his people on each Lord’s Day, and expect to remain alive?

At the risk of piling on, consider: do we forget to eat meals each day? When we miss a meal, don’t we immediately feel the effects? So why do we starve ourselves of our spiritual food?

We miss you. You used to be here every week shaking hands and holding doors. Then it was every other week. Then monthly, if ever. And when you’re with us now, you slip away at the end without greeting others. It started with the pandemic and became about family, vacations, or missed alarms. You watch online or listen to the message—usually. But we, the church, yearn for you. “For God is my witness, how I long for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus” (Phil. 1:8).

Return, o wandering friend. Jesus left the ninety-nine to go after the one. He is seeking you, too. An old saint once wrote that he does not have God as his Father who does not also have the church as his mother. Perhaps that’s an overstatement, but I don’t think so. Jesus loves his people. He is the Good Shepherd who laid down his life for them (John 10:11). This means he loves you, if indeed you are counted among his people. Are you?

Come back. You won’t be scorned, mocked, or eyed suspiciously. (If someone looks at you funny, we’re sorry—accept our apology in advance.) We don’t want your tithes, time, or talents as much as we want you. We yearn to fellowship with you again.

See you this Sunday?

In Christ,

A Fellow Church Member

Editor’s Note: This originally published at ABWE.org

Yes, Preaching Really Does Change People

By Mike Brooks / Oct 7

If you’ve been in pastoral ministry for any length of time at all you’ve asked the question: Is my preaching actually doing anything? Is it having any effect?

The question could be addressed on several different grounds. It could be addressed on historical grounds, pointing to the powerful effects of preaching in various times and places in the history of the church, notably, from the beginning in the book of Acts. It could be addressed on personal grounds by means of collected anecdotes—“Let me tell you about Joe and Mary Black and what God did in their lives through the faithful preaching of God’s Word.”

But without question, the most compelling response is going to be a theological one, grounded in the realities presented in Scripture regarding who God is, what he is doing, what his Word does, and what he fully intends preaching to accomplish.

An Under-Celebrated Characteristic

We rightly celebrate the authority, the trustworthiness, and the sufficiency of Scripture. But perhaps an under-celebrated characteristic of Scripture is its efficacy. By “efficacy” I simply mean the ability to actually accomplish what is intended.

Probably the clearest statement on the efficacy of Scripture is found in Isaiah 55:10–11:

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it . (italics added)

That’s a powerful statement on the efficacy of God’s Word, and it provides more than sufficient grounds for a deep conviction in the heart of every faithful preacher. Without this conviction, a pastor will regularly wonder about and doubt the usefulness of his preaching. But with this conviction fully in place a pastor will have every reason to persevere in his regular and faithful exposition of God’s Word.

What God’s Word is and Does

Think of the images the Bible uses to speak of God’s Word. It’s like a sword (Hebrews 4:12). It’s like a hammer (Jeremiah 23:29). These images evoke powerful efficacy. Even the less aggressive images of rain (Isaiah 55:10) and seed (Mark 4:14) speak of efficacy.

And think of all the things the Bible says God’s Word can do.

It brings about faith. “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17).
It gives new spiritual life. “You have been born again, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, the living and abiding word of God” (1 Peter 1:23).
It helps us grow. “Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up to salvation” (1 Peter 2:2).
It sanctifies us. “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth” (John 17:17).
It searches and convicts. “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12).
It liberates. “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31–32).
It refreshes and renews. “Give me life according to your word” (Psalm 119:25).
It revives our souls and rejoices our hearts. “The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul … the precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart” (Psalm 19:7,8).

These are all things the Bible claims God’s Word can do in our lives! And there’s so much more! So is it any wonder that David says, “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree” (Psalm 1:1–3)? And the amazing thing is that God has ordained preaching as the primary means by which this powerful Word is brought effectively to human beings (cf. 2 Timothy 4:2).

What’s at Stake

There’s so much at stake in our preaching. People’s lives are at stake. People are lost, alienated from God, and desperately in need of hearing the saving Word of Christ. The health of Christ’s church is at stake. God’s people desperately need instruction and encouragement from God’s Word. When God said to Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?” it didn’t look very promising. But God instructed him to preach and the result was absolutely marvelous. (Read the wonderful account of this in Ezekiel 37:1–14. Pay special attention to the very last line.)

There are some particularly emboldening words found in the early chapters of Deuteronomy. Very significantly, these words are often repeated by Jesus himself: “Man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD” (Deuteronomy 8:3; Matthew 4:4). Don’t miss that. Man lives by God’s Word!

This is why God has called us to preach. Natural, unregenerate man comes to life by the Word of God. And having been brought to life by the Word, the regenerate man continues to be sustained and nourished by God’s Word. Peter said it so well. In a moment of spirit-inspired brilliance he spoke this truth, “Where else would we go, you have the words of life” (John 6:68).

Fellow preacher, God has promised that through this apparently weak and frail means, using weak and frail creatures like us, he will accomplish much. He has said so. He has promised to do it. Believe what God has said. The faithful preaching of God’s Word accomplishes much.

So, steady on brother. Do your work and then let the Word do its work, a work almighty God has promised will be done.