Gospel-Centered Resources from Midwestern Seminary
FTC.co asks Phillip Holmes, VP of Institutional Communications at Reformed Theological Seminary, “What advice would you give Christians who feel exhausted by the division and discourse in today’s evangelicalism?”
Do you need to love literature in order to understand the Bible?
In this volume, Matthew Mullins raises this question and makes the case that understanding and enjoying literature can equip you to love the Bible. Mullins teaches English at the College at Southeastern and aims in this project to examine the “pleasure of understanding.” His twofold contention is that “understanding what we read can be pleasurable,” and that sometimes “you must take pleasure in something in order to understand it” (ix). As he explores this topic, Mullins discusses both a framework for reading in general and also specific strategies for engaging literary texts like poems.
What’s Part of the Problem?
Recognizing that many readers simply do not enjoy poetry or struggle to understand literary texts, Mullins examines some of the reasons why this might be the case. Why do we hate poetry? Why is it difficult to understand texts that are literary, indirect, and not explicitly didactic?
One of the primary culprits here is not only the way that we read but how we characterize the texts we are reading. It’s possible to think of the Bible exclusively as an “instruction manual” that contains a series of distinct messages or even principles that you then need to apply to your life. This approach works fine for some parts of the Bible, but strains when reading texts that communicate in different modes. Throughout his study, Mullins discusses poetry as a prime example of a literary text that requires a different set of tools to understand and experience.
Drawing on the work of Jamie K. Smith (You are What you Love), Mullins characterizes this “Bible as instruction manual” viewpoint as a “hermeneutic of information” that regards humans as primarily “thinking beings.” This interpretive framework is ill-equipped to deal with literary texts (and life situations) that are designed explicitly to evoke emotions as part of their intended meaning. By this, Mullins does not deny that the Bible provides instruction. His suggestion is rather that “we expand our understanding of what these things are and how they are communicated so that we might better love the Scriptures and allow them to shape our whole selves, heads and hearts” (30). He also clarifies that his goal is not to “exchange head for heart, intellect for emotion,” but rather “to develop a theory and practice of reading that account for both” (9).
The first series of chapters in the book are focused on what literature is and also on the way that it works. Mullins first tells the story of “how reading literature became a quest for meaning” (chapter one). If poetry is understood as “imitation,” you might be looking behind the poetic form to “what it really means.” If poetry is understood as “expression,” you might be looking for the feeling that the poet is trying to convey in the poem. If poetry is understood as “tradition,” you might be looking for how the poem itself is drawing on universal concepts from the history of ideas. In each of these cases, there is a separation of form and content that encourages readers to ask what a literary text “really means.”
What’s Part of the Solution?
In order for readers to appreciate the way literature works, they have to have a framework for meaning that is wider than “finding a message” (chapter three). Here Mullins discusses the role of emotion, “defamiliarization,” and association in the meaning of literary texts. The meaning of a poetic text is wrapped up with the emotions it evokes, the way it helps us see everyday things in fresh ways, and how it captures rather than resolves interpretive tension. As Mullins summarizes, “We have to learn to feel, resee, and come to terms with the process of making peace as a form of understanding” (58).
One might view this approach to reading poetry as hopelessly subjective. However, Mullins also takes time to address the way that literary texts constrain meaning as well as generate it (chapter four). Mullins insists that literary texts cannot be “reduced to a singular main idea,” but that “this irreducibility” does not mean that they could mean “anything” (61). Rather, literary texts generate “a limited range of meanings, not an infinite range of meanings” (61). In this way, Mullins argues both that “the language of the literary text itself is the best guide to its meaning,” and that “emotion doesn’t make meaning simplistically subjective” (64). In his discussion of “Reading with your gut,” Mullins also presents several distinct ways to conceive of the reading process other than extracting a message from the text (chapter five). Delighting in something can also be instructive (chapter six), and this is part of what fuels the worship of the churches who not only read but respond to biblical texts through song and liturgy (chapter seven).
How Do You Enjoy (Biblical) Literature?
The last series of chapters in the book shift to some of the practices and implications of reading the Bible as literature. After unfolding this theoretical model for meaning, reading, and responding, Mullins seeks to show what this approach might look like. Mullins suggests that “poems are more like paintings than like prose” (126). When encountering a poem like Psalm 23, you can stand in front of it, notice interesting elements, and then ask questions informed by your reflective observation (127–134). Mullins then discusses how to read for the general sense of a poem, how to identify and feel the central emotion of the poem, and how to notice the formal features that enable the poem to work in the way that it does (chapters nine through twelve).
In his conclusion, Mullins returns to the broad themes of reading and the effects of our reading practices. Good literature, Mullins insists, “leaves room for us to grapple with uncertainty, and good readers are capable of living in that uncertainty without always needing to resolve it into a clear and final message” (178). Theologically, “where we encounter and experience uncertainty, or multiplicity, in God’s Word, we are being invited to speculate, question, and wonder” (178). In other words, this capacity enables us “to pursue God without a definite end in sight” and “pursue God in the Scriptures for God’s own sake” (178). Mullins’s final point relates to “habituation.” If we can develop habits and reading practices that encounter the Scriptures in this way, it will not only inform us but form us into readers with a Scripture-shaped set of affections. Reading the Bible can be a spiritual and liturgical act that can transform us “into the kind of person who loves his Word” (184).
Appreciation and Engagement
Hating Poetry: Who Me?
In this work, Mullins has a very specific interlocutor in mind, namely, someone that reads poetry in search of propositions and principles (2–16, 82, etc). He is speaking to those who may misunderstand the meaning and function of poetry because they “expect poetry to function like explanatory prose” (x). While many readers might initially locate themselves outside of this target audience, as Mullins unfolds his study, I think most readers of the Bible will recognize themselves at various points. Finding the “big idea” or “timeless truth” of a psalm, a proverb, or a biblical story is a well-worn practice for most believers.
In some ways, Mullins also tackles this topic in such a way that two distinct scholarly groups might be unhappy with his work. From the literary side, Mullins might concede too much to notions of normative authority, interpretive controls, and the sociological function of the Scriptures within the churches. From the biblical studies side, Mullins might concede too much to the notion that emotions and feeling are integral elements of meaning. However, at strategic places throughout the volume, Mullins connects these two fields of inquiry. He speaks of instruction and delight. He affirms the message and effect of literary texts. He aims at formal features and emotional entailments.
One of the great strengths of this book is that Mullins opens up a way for non-specialists to reckon with not only what the Scriptures say but how they communicate this meaning. At the end of the book (and at the close of each chapter), Mullins provides an exercise designed to implement some of the principles discussed in the book. These helpful tools will allow casual Bible readers and church members to appreciate the insights Mullins articulates throughout his wide-ranging discussions.
2. Enjoying an Authoritative Text
Sometimes a literary approach to the Scriptures entails a rejection or a neglect of the theological confessions about its authoritative or inspired status. Mullins demonstrates, though, that reading “the Bible as literature” does not necessarily entail an a-theological approach. Rather, a commitment to the divine inspiration of biblical writings actually requires readers to take seriously its formal qualities and literary types. Believing readers also affirm the theological function of biblical texts. As Mullins insists, “The Bible is our most direct access to God’s words—it was written not only to convey information about him but also to provide a way for us to commune with him, to meet him in his Word” (xi). This confessional approach to literary studies will serve students of the Scriptures well.
3. Enjoying a Canonical Text
One limitation of Mullins’s work is that it does not engage biblical scholarship. Mullins focuses on general hermeneutical elements and uses English translations for his exposition. This is a limitation because of the unique formal and functional elements of the Bible’s original languages. On this issue, Mullins acknowledges the “mediated nature of our reading” when encountering translations (xii). Much of Mullins’s discussion about the nature of reading literature, though, applies equally well to someone reading the Bible in any language. Further, the vast majority of Bible readers in the churches will read in their own language. Learning to read an English translation well, too, is an important accomplishment that will enhance one’s understanding and enjoyment of the Scriptures.
In this regard, two areas for further reflection involve the notions of a canonical collection and the reality of intertextuality. Biblical poetry is embedded by design within carefully crafted collections. Individual psalms are found by biblical readers within an ordered book of Psalms. What’s more, these poetic texts are profoundly intertextual. Thus, grappling with literary language in one text that is simultaneously an allusion to a theologically significant intertext would not be a shift into didactic study but a meaningful extension of a literary mode of analysis.
Reckoning with the unique literary qualities of all of the biblical genres would also be a fruitful further endeavor. Even including just the sophisticated nature of narrative and the rhetorical moves of NT epistles would help explain how to read most of the Bible. Developing a “poetics” of each biblical genre alongside an appreciation of poetic texts would unlock an entryway into the ranging literary landscapes of the biblical canon.
This is not really a critique but a possible avenue to explore for someone who is convinced of the explanatory power of Mullins’s work and wants to bring that into dialogue with features of biblical studies that resonate with the overall thesis. These canonical and intertextual features also resonate with Mullins’s point that “the Bible requires more than one kind of reading” (ix).
Conclusion
Learning to understand and enjoy literary texts requires a certain disposition and a certain set of skills. Enjoying the Bible is a readable and reliable guide for this pursuit. Let the reader understand (and enjoy!).
You may disagree, but I believe biblical history and subsequent Christian history demonstrates that radical internal holiness, godly enthusiasm to follow Christ, and courageous truth-inspired faith in him regardless of the societal externals or the diffidence and even hatred of those around us, do more to accomplish the will of God in the world than the seating of any government over the people.
The government may or may not support the Christian viewpoint. It did not in New Testament days when Christianity spread like a prairie fire across the known world. We should pray that our government will imbibe our principles. We should pay attention and do our part. But our faith doesn’t rest there. Not in the least.
God is above all governments of men; the message we speak is more powerful to transform than any governmental philosophy or program, speech or law; and the Spirit in us grants amazing powers through normal means — sometimes extraordinary means — even in times of suffocating suppression through otherwise normal people who believe resolutely in God to accomplish his will in the hearts of men.
We should, in fact, refuse to put trust in governments and policies, but only in God. God did not mean this world to be our home or a place of perfect peace or satisfaction. That will come later. Until then, we should keep our perspective right by seeing all that happens around us as the dark backdrop for the brilliant beauty and power of the Lord to be seen through his true church.
FTC.co asks Matt Emerson, associate professor of Religion at Oklahoma Baptist University, “What advice would you give Christians who want to mature in their theology but feel academic books are inaccessible?”
1. Introduction
2. Preaching Outlines
3. Key Themes and Motifs
4. Problem Passages
5. Commentaries and Resources
6. Preaching Christ from the Book
7. Why You Should Preach This Book
The book of Revelation has long fascinated the church with its narrative of impending doom for those who fail to repent and for the hope of glory for those who follow the Lamb wherever he goes (14:4). The book is filled with a masterpiece of literary imagery, theological discourses, Old Testament fulfillment, and the ultimate battle between good and evil. It is a book that contains three genres (epistle, narrative, apocalyptic) and is perhaps one of the more, if not most, difficult books of the Bible to preach and teach. But for the one who patiently and carefully mines the caverns of this marvelous work, there are riches to be unearthed (1:3; 22:7).
Unfortunately, I am afraid the church has largely misunderstood and, therefore, misapplied this book largely due to the “newspaper” interpretation of the book. In other words, there are many well-meaning believers in Christ who will read Revelation alongside a newspaper and begin finding some prophecies fulfilled in their time. They will then begin to lose themselves in the weeds of trying to outline every single prophetic event with what is happening presently in their culture. Church history is full of these types of example, and sadly the trend still continues. Yet, patient and careful preaching through the book will better equip God’s people to see the overarching connection of themes and allusions that John uses from his Hebrew Bible and utilizes in his book. Revelation concludes the canon of the Christian Bible for a reason, and it provides the longing hope of all creation and redeemed people of God: God once again dwells with his people, and they will see his face (21–22; cf. Gen 1–2).
James Hamilton, Revelation: The Spirit Speaks to the Churches
Jason P. Kees
Symbolism plays a significant role in interpreting Revelation, and there are traditionally four methods of interpretation: historicist, preterits, idealist, futurist. Rather than subscribing to one specific method, most commentators and scholars today prefer an eclectic approach that borrows from each method. The methods of interpretation compound the already difficult symbolism that the reader must interpret, and each minister must decide for himself which method of interpretation to use. However, identifying the Old Testament background that is associated with John’s symbolism normally assuages these problem passages, thereby alleviating the apparent problem and providing the minister with confidence to preach this book. Although not an exhaustive list, I will highlight two examples of passages in Revelation that difficult.
The 144,000 are Sealed
After the Lamb opens the sixth seal and catastrophic events occur to the earth, those who have not sided with the Lamb beg for the rocks to cover them and hide them from the wrath of the Lamb and the one who sits on the throne, for “the great day of their wrath has come, and who can stand” (Rev 6:17)? John provides the answer to that question by introducing the 144,000 who are sealed (Rev 7:1–8). In 7:5–8 John uses the name of twelve tribes from Israel (Gen 49:1–27), excluding Dan and including Manasseh (Gen 48:20). The problem is identifying these twelve tribes. Are they a literal reference to the tribes of Israel or should the church be interpreted as the 144,000? If they are the twelve tribes of Israel, then what are the implications for the nation of Israel today? If they are the church, then what does that interpretation mean if one holds to a pre-tribulation rapture? I am comfortable saying the 144,000 are the church sealed based on the church being a renewed Israel (cf. Mt 19:28; Rom 2:29; Gal 6:16). Both positions are argued by trustworthy and faithful scholars, and the preacher will need to settle this issue for himself by consulting differing views.
The Thousand Years
Revelation 20:1–6 may be one of the more disputed sections within the book. Here, of Satan is bound and sealed in a pit that will not be opened for a thousand years (cf. Dn 7:9–10, 22–27). “After that he must be released for a little while.” There are three primary views associated with the thousand-year reign. First, the premillennial reign contends that the church, who has been raptured prior to the events that begin to unfold in chapter 6, will now return with Christ during this millennium reign. Satan will be bound in the abyss and the church will reign, with both believers and unbelievers on the earth at that time. Another possibility is the post-millennium view, which understands that the gospel will experience a triumphant expansion that will be accompanied with a time of peace before the second coming of Christ. Jesus, then, is not physically on earth yet, but he is still reigning from heaven. The final view is called the amillennial view, which understands the thousand-year period to have begun after Christ was resurrected and ascended to heaven. When he returns, then the reign is ultimately concluded. Again, much like the 144,000 example above, all three positions are held by reputable scholars. Yet, the preacher must decide by thorough exegesis and research which position he concludes is the one most faithful to the biblical text.
The Sovereignty of God
The sovereignty of God is a theme that permeates the book of Revelation and can be found opening and closing the work. The overall theme of God sitting upon the throne, reigning over the world, bringing judgment and wrath upon the earth, and redeeming his people at the end of the days further illustrates God’s sovereignty. In fact, when the main narrative section (4—22) of the work begins, it is God the Father who is seated (4:1–11) and has the scroll with the seven seals in his hand (5:1). The Son is the only one found worthy to take the scroll and open it (5:7; 6:1), thus bringing to the earth God’s judgment.
The preacher should also remember that it is only by God’s allowance that judgment is inflicted upon those who have not sided with the Lamb (i.e., the “earth-dwellers”). Even the first beast is given (ἐδόθη; used throughout Revelation) “a mouth to utter haughty and blasphemous words” (13:5) against God. God is the one who judges mankind, and he does so justly (cf. 11:18; 18:8; 19:2). Although he may use other agents in this judgment, such as the four horsemen or the seven angels with the seven trumpets, he nonetheless rules over each scenario with the motif of sovereignty. God’s people must remain steadfast, then, during this time of tribulation.
The Return of the King
The climax of the work is the emphasis upon the return Christ, the one true King, to return and reign over his people. He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah (cf. Gen 49:9), the Root of David (cf. Isa 11:1, 10), and the return of this Davidic King (cf. 2 Sam 7:13) is the purpose of this apocalyptic vision (1:7; cf. Dan 7:13; Zech 12:10). He is the rider on the white horse and is called “Faithful” and “True” (19:11), reigning sovereignly over the cosmos (19:12; cf. 12:3; 13:1), and now returning dripped in blood (19:13; cf Isa 63:2–6) with the armies of heaven prepared for battle (19:14), and he will rule as the true Messianic King with his rod of iron (19:15; cf. Ps 2:9; Isa 11:4). He returns to make war against the earth-dwellers and their Unholy Trinity and to vindicate his redeemed ones, and the battle ends almost as soon as it begins (19:17–21). The futile attempt of the beast and the kings of the earth and their armies are quickly defeated by Christ, as the boastful beast and false prophet (13:1–18) are quickly bound and cast into the lake of fire. Those who received his mark and worshiped its image are slain by the sword that came from the mouth of the King of Kings.
Worship of the True God
Revelation is adamant that every person participates in worship, and the object of this worship falls in only two categories: either people worship the one true God or they worship the unholy Trinity. Worship is used in direct connection with the beast (13:4, 8, 12, 15) and those who refuse to worship the beast, or the image, will be the victim of persecution and death (13:15). Even the “earth-dwellers” who experience the wrath of God early in the book still refuse to repent and worship the one true God (6:15–17; 9:20–21). Yet God is the only one who is worthy of worship (4:11; 5:2–12; 7:11) and only God is to be worshipped. Believers are urged by this theme of worshipping the one true God to remain loyal and committed no matter what cost. The identification of the believer is bound up by nothing else other than their identity with the slain Lamb who stands victorious and is worthy of our worship, and believers must follow him wherever he goes (14:3).
Helpful Commentaries and Resources
Technical Commentaries and Resources
Aune, David. Revelation. 3 vols. World Biblical Commentary. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2017.
Bauckham, Richard. The Climax of Prophecy: Studies on the Book of Revelation. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998.
_____. The Theology of the Book of Revelation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.
Beale, G.K. The Book of Revelation. The New International Greek Testament Commentary. Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 199.
Charles, R.H. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Revelation of St. John. 2 vols. The International Critical Commentary. Edinburgh, T&T Clark, 1985.
Fanning, Buist M. Revelation. Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2020.
Koester, Craig R. Revelation. The Anchor Yale Bible Commentaries. Yale: Yale University Press, 2014.
Mounce, Robert H. The Book of Revelation, Revised. The New International Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997.
Osborne, Grant R. Revelation. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2002.
Pastoral Commentaries and Resources
Akin, Daniel. L. Exalting Jesus in Revelation. Christ Centered Exposition Commentary. Nashville: Holman, 2016.
Emerson, Matthew Y. Between the Cross and the Throne: The Book of Revelation. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016.
Hamilton, James M. Revelation: The Spirit Speaks to the Churches. Preaching the Word. Grand Rapids: Crossway, 2012.
Hoskins, Paul M. The Book of Revelation: A Theological and Exegetical Commentary. North Charleston, SC: ChristoDoulos Publications, 2017.
Wall, Robert W. Revelation. New International Biblical Commentary. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1991.
How to Preach Christ from Revelation
John opens this final book of the canon by informing the reader of its content: the revelation of Jesus Christ (1:1). This simple, yet profound, statement provides the reader not just an overview of things that are to come, but the reader is also reminded that what must soon take place is not outside of the grasp of Jesus. Revelation is truly about the return of the King, and in order to preach Jesus from this book the preacher would do well to remember two things.
First, the preacher must remember the slaughtered Lamb who stands victoriously and leads his servants faithfully through tribulation. It is almost redundant to say, but remembering Jesus is the first step to preaching him from Revelation. There are portions of the narrative where Christ is present, such as the scroll and the Lamb (5) and the Lamb and the 144,000 (14), but there are also other instances where he is not specifically mentioned within the narrative. Yet, it is important to remember that Christ stands in the background of each scene carefully guiding and protecting his people. When the seals are broken and judgment falls upon the earth, when the trumpets sound and locusts advance, when the great harlot rides drunkly upon her beast, Christ is always there reigning, protecting, and awaiting his full return. It is important for the preacher to remember that Christ, and thereby the Holy Trinity, is sovereignly in control of every single event that occurs, and he is not out of reach from his people.
Second, the preacher must remember that the Bible is the primary resource for his study and proclamation of Revelation and nothing else. What I mean by that statement has to do with the newspaper interpretation method that seeks to read modern day creations back into the Bible. For example, the locusts in 9:7–11 have been interpreted by some to be apache helicopters that will be used to bring since the descriptions of them is similar, ignoring the clear link to Joel 2:4 and the Exodus plagues. The preacher must avoid these types of hermeneutical leaps and rather stick closely to his Old and New Testament. Throughout the book John uses his Old Testament for his hearers and emphasizes God’s judgment. Just as God judged Egypt, Babylon, and other nations in the Old Testament, so he will pour out his wrath upon those who side with the beast and refuse the one true King. Exhaust every Old Testament (and New Testament) usage and stay close to your Bible!
Why You Should Consider Preaching or Reaching Revelation
When I began my doctoral studies, I never anticipated writing a dissertation on Revelation, but I am grateful that it happened. In fact, prior to writing my dissertation I reluctantly preached through the book not knowing at the time I would be writing on it over a year later. I made the off-hand comment once that I would likely need a year to prepare for the sermon series just because of how difficult the book can be and how many various interpretations there are, but the year of study does not need to happen. Here are a few reasons that I encourage the church to dig in, dig deep, and preach or teach this wonderful book.
First, Revelation demands that we know our Bible. As John writes and takes the reader through the panorama of his narrative, he does not stop along the way to clarify what each vision means or the connection to the Old Testament Scriptures; rather, he just keeps the storyline going expecting the reader to keep up. The reason why Revelation is probably one of the more difficult books to read, preach, or teach from is because we do not know our Scripture well enough to keep up with John’s pace. But preaching or teaching this book forces us (and our people!) to slow down for the scenic tour. Through careful study, we are able to point to the Old Testament examples that John uses, how they correspond to one another, and why it matters.
Second, Revelation forces us to remain cordial to differing viewpoints on the book. As previously mentioned, there are historically four major interpretation methods that have been, and still are, used for this book, not to mention the discussions of the millennial reign of Christ. Trustworthy scholars and Bible-believing Christians differ on this work, and yet still hold to an orthodox view of Scripture, faith, and God. In the preaching and teaching of this book, it is important to remember that not everyone will agree with your interpretation. What is important is to be charitable in our presentation of differing views, gracious in our conversations with others, and resilient for orthodoxy.
Third, Revelation reminds us that God’s patience and mercy will one day end for those who are not Christians. No matter how someone understands the tribulation, whether the church is still present or raptured out, judgment still pours out on the earth for the “earth-dwellers” who do not follow Christ. There is certainly a time when God’s patience runs out, and judgment flows from the throne to the earth. The reality and horrors of God’s impending judgment is seen all too clearly in this book with the judgment before the great white throne (20:11–15) and those whose name was not found in the book of life. The people of God should be reminded of the gravity and reality of hell and those who are separated from Christ, and remember that following the Lamb wherever he goes means bringing the Gospel to a lost world.
The year 2021 marks the centennial anniversary of the passing of two titans of theology—Herman Bavinck and Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield.
The two theologians—one American and one Dutch—helped shape a generation of theologians behind them. While Warfield was three years Bavinck’s elder, the two great Christian thinkers both passed in 1921—Warfield in February and Bavinck in July.
Death Comes to Princeton and Amsterdam
In a letter written to his mother, J. Gresham Machen wrote of Warfield’s death noting, “It seemed to me that the old Princeton—a great institution it was—died when Dr. Warfield was carried out.”[1] It was at this “great institution” that Warfield served as professor of polemic and didactic theology for 34 years. While there, the great American theologian trained thousands of students, wrote hundreds of periodicals and articles, and spent many of his days promoting orthodoxy. However, on February 17th, 1921, The New York Times reported Warfield, “died suddenly at his home last night”[2] and the earthly chapter of the “Lion of Princeton” came to a close.
Unlike his Dutch counterpart, Abraham Kuyper, Herman Bavinck intended to die quietly. He did not want a news spectacle nor major commotion. As recent biographer, James Eglinton, points out, even Bavinck’s tombstone has a kind of simplicity, reading only, “Dr. H. Bavinck, b. 13 Dec. 1854, d. 29 July 1921.” Eglinton suggests that an appropriate addition, and one that demonstrates just how grand a character Bavinck was, would be: “Here lies a dogmatician, an ethicist, an educational reformer, a pioneer in Christian psychology, a politician, a biographer, a journalist, a Bible translator, a campaigner for women’s education, and eventually, the father, father-in-law, and grandfather of heroes and martyrs in the anti-Nazi resistance movement.”[3]
Who God is and How He is to be Studied: Appreciation for Bavinck and Warfield
Given the significance of Bavinck and Warfield’s academic ministry, a multi-volume project detailing their role in advancing theological wisdom would not suffice. Therefore, it is a near maddening task to outline a word of appreciation for these two titans of theology in a brief article. For the sake of brevity, I have decided to highlight one way each man has aided my theological development in hopes of demonstrating how others might benefit today from reading these two voices of yesterday.
Reminding readers that “mystery is the vital element of dogmatics,”[4] Bavinck plunges into a theological treatment of the doctrine of God. Beginning with the caveat of God’s incomprehensibility, and, therefore, the grace of dogmatic theology, Bavinck discusses the vital topic of who God is. Contrary to the common modern theological tendency to posture God as a mere grander version of his creation, Bavinck understood the transcendental otherness of God. Against the modern stream of theology proper in his day, Bavinck emphasized and articulated classical doctrines such as immutability, simplicity, aseity, impassability, and the like.
I have found in the pages of Bavinck something of a mentor. While separated by generations (Bavinck was placed into the ground nine years before my paternal grandfather would be brought into the world), I began to look to him for direction in answering the question: “Who is God?” There seemed to be a direct relationship between the structural integrity of my copy of Bavinck’s The Doctrine of God and the clarity with which I thought about the grandeur of God. As my book fell apart, my doctrine of God did the opposite; the more I read, the more the theological fog lifted. What I witnessed, page after page, is that Herman Bavinck’s God is big. In line with his thoroughly Dutch theology, Bavinck’s God was big enough to move into every sphere of his life.
Though Warfield is a fellow American, I did not take a deeper dive into his work until my doctoral program. In the variegated works of Warfield, I found what felt like a theological confidant. As anyone familiar with Warfield knows, the polemical context of his writing makes tracking down his published articles something of a treasure hunt. Yet, as I read, it was confirmed over and again that this is a hunt worth pursuing. Personally, Warfield has instructed my theological development on a number of finer points of doctrine. For example, his work on the inspiration of Scripture and the soteriological consequences of Christological realities have made a deep impression on me.
Yet it is not necessarily the what of Warfield’s theology that has left the longest lasting impression; rather, it has been the how of his theology. While Bavinck taught me who God is, Warfield was instructive in demonstrating how this God is to be studied. In short, for Warfield, the theological enterprise must be riddled with worship.
Take, for example, the instruction he gives his students in The Religious Life of Theological Students:
A minister must be learned on pain of being utterly incompetent for his work. But before and above being learned, a minister must be godly. Nothing could be more fatal, however, than to set these two things over against one another…Sometimes we hear it said that ten minutes on your knees will give you a truer, deeper, more operative knowledge of God than ten hours over your books. ‘What!’ is the appropriate response, ‘than ten hours over your books, on your knees?’ Why should you turn from God when you turn to your books, or feel that you must turn from your books in order to turn to God? If learning and devotion are as antagonistic as that, then the intellectual life is in itself accursed, and there can be no question of a religious life for a student, even of theology.[5]
Or, again, as he stated elsewhere, “It is wonderful how even the strictest grammatical study can be informed with reverence…And the doctrines—need I beg you to consider these doctrines not as so many propositions to be analyzed by your logical understanding, but as rather so many precious truths revealing to you your God and God’s modes of dealing with sinful man?”[6]
Warfield has a right-sized view of theology as a trusted vehicle traversing towards the glory of God. There was never an uncomfortable relationship between academic excellence and Christian piety in the theology of B.B. Warfield. Students of theology today would do well to emulate Warfield’s insistence on devotional scholarship.
It is grace upon grace that we, Christians in the 21st century, get to join in the cosmic conversation about Christ with the chorus of saints long gone. I am eternally grateful for the religious lineage I have been grafted into. Without a doubt, members like Herman Bavinck and Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield make this chorus more melodic. It has been 100 years since these two titans of theology were laid to rest, yet their theological legacies move onward. At this, the centennial anniversary of their passing, we take time to remember and appreciate both theologians but, more importantly, we take this opportunity to marvel at the great God they served.
Editor’s Note: This article appeared in the Spring ’21 edition of Midwestern Magazine. The full issue, entitled They Still Speak: Wisdom Today from the Voices of Yesterday, is available free online at mbts.edu/magazine.
[1] J. Gresham Machen to Mary Gresham Machen, February 20, 1921 (Machen Archives, Westminster Theological Seminary) quoted from Stephen J. Nichols, “The Vital Processes of Controversy: Warfield, Machen, and Fundamentalism,” B.B. Warfield: Essays on His Life and Thought, ed. Gary L.W. Johnson (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2007), 192.
[2] “Dr. B.B. Warfield Dead” The New York Times, February 18, 1921.
[3] James Eglinton, Bavinck: A Critical Biography (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2020), 291.
[4] Herman Bavinck, The Doctrine of God (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1977), 18.
[5] B.B. Warfield, “The Religious Life of Theological Students” in Selected Shorter Writings, vol. 2 (Phillipsburg: P&R, 2005), 411.
[6] Quoted from David Calhoun, The Princeton Seminary, Vol. 2. (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1994), 323-324.
Beth Moore once tweeted the following:
“Oh man, there’s bouta be a fight. I love this.”—Beth Moore.
Someone jokingly responded and asked if she was watching the NBA Finals or taking a shot at the Southern Baptist Convention. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Moore was talking about the NBA game on television at that point, but the joke hit home.
There is fighting afoot in the family.
And it seems everybody is watching the show.
Fighting is Fine, Sometimes
Now, I’m not one who thinks every scuffle is out of place. Sometimes, we need to fight. Or, at least we need to wrestle with things, engage in healthy debate, and call each other to account. The idea of “contending” is not foreign to NT Christianity (see Jude 3). This is true at the level of local churches, the larger world of evangelicalism, and conventions like that of Southern Baptists. The debates in reference to social justice, ethnic harmony, the abuse of women, and even to who is best suited to lead the convention forward, are not necessarily unhealthy discussions and debates. The way in which we conduct the conversations and where these conversations take place (blogs, Twitter, Facebook) is perhaps something we need a committee to look into.
What saddens me at the moment, however, and what I think is grievous in the present era, is how family squabbles go viral and too often invite the gaze of those on the outside. It is possible that people are gazing at Christians at unprecedented levels. And they are looking in our direction precisely because of our problems. This seems particularly true when one thinks of the Southern Baptist Convention. This, in my opinion, is one of the saddest realities of the day. Today, Southern Baptists are busy debating the merits and extent of complementarianism. We are fighting about how the gospel and social justice go hand-in-hand, if they do at all. And that’s a shortlist of what faces us today. The problem, however, is not necessarily the presence of the debates but the platforms we are using each and every day (like Twitter and Facebook) to hash these things out. These platforms usually offer little room for nuance, are devoid of the relational closeness that these debates probably demand, and, to my present concern, invite the world to watch for free.
Talking with a Brother in Private instead of Public
A while back, a brother in my local church wanted to meet and chat. I initially told him I’d be happy to meet him for coffee. The day of our meeting rolled around and he asked if we could meet at his house instead. His reasoning? He knew we had some potentially divisive things to discuss. He wanted to meet in private because he did not want two Christians putting their potential division on display. I thought this was a wise and mature perspective and happily met him in his dining room. The conversation was emotional at times, and we disagreed about a few things, but we could speak with conviction, even passion, face to face and before the face of our God. The gaze of the unbelieving world was not a concern because they had no view.
Similarly, Gregory of Nazianzus, the great Cappadocian theologian, exhorted his opponents to conduct their debates “within [their] own frontiers.” Why? Because Gregory knew our enemies (and sometimes even our so-called friends) “keep all too close a watch on us, and they would wish that the spark of our dissensions might become a conflagration; they kindle it, they fan it, by means of its own drought they raise it to the skies, and without our knowing what they are up to, they make it higher than those flames at Babylon which blazed all around.”
Gregory’s point is that the world keeps a close watch on how we engage with each other. And if our fighting is laid bare for all to see, if every disagreement in the SBC is published to the general public, then we give our enemies the chance to fan the flames and burn us down. Thus, we should be careful about inviting the watching world to gaze at every family fight.
Let the World Watch If and When It Matters
Now, for the sake of nuance, we should acknowledge it is not always a bad thing when the world watches some of our family squabbles. This is particularly true when we fight over central concerns. If people in the family begin to drift on the issue of the good news of Jesus and his substitutionary atoning work, we will fight to the death. If churches in our denomination waver on the sinfulness of homosexuality, then we rise to wrestle for the truth. If those in our ranks abuse women or distort the divine design of complementarianism, then let us invite the world to listen to our exchange of words. And when the giants among us falter publicly, then the public should see us holding our leaders accountable. When it comes to those matters (and others), we are not afraid of the gaze of the world as we fight for the truth in the present evil age.
However, I would wish that some of our fighting, some of our debating, some of our back and forth would take place away from the gaze of those outside our ranks. I think we should stay away from social media when we are dealing with less than ultimate things and keep our family fights “within our own frontiers.” When it comes to the Southern Baptist family, for instance, I do not believe we should take the Calvinism vs. non-Calvinism debate into the New York Times or Washington Post. Nor do I believe at the moment we should take our wrestling with the limits of complementarity into the public sphere at every turn. Beyond those two issues, we could create a nice long list of things that are not worth hashing out before the eyes of the world.
What issues or debates or fights (whatever you want to call them) go public and what issues stay private, well that’s a matter of prudence. I have not worked out the application grid for such things. What I do know, however, is that we should think more carefully about how we conduct our family affairs, including our fights. And we need to think about these issues for the good of our churches, the future of our convention, the joy of all (the watching) peoples, and the glory of our King.
The church was growing. The threat of persecution could not stop it (Acts 4). The threat of corruption could not stop it (Acts 5). But the enemy still had another trick up his sleeve: internal division.
The Greek-speaking Jews complained against the Hebrews that their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. The apostles called the church together and directly addressed the matter:
“It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables. Therefore, brothers, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we will appoint to this duty.” – Acts 6:2b-3
What would the apostles do as this plan was carried out?
“But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.” – Acts 6:4
This statement succinctly summarizes the job description for pastoral ministry: prayer and the ministry of the word.
The apostles were devoted to prayer. It was their duty to pray. Prayer was not what they did as they led the church. It was essential to their leadership. They had no dichotomy that separated work and prayer. Prayer was their work! This is what the church needs today.
First, spiritual leaders must be devoted to private prayer. Communion with God in prayer should characterize our lives. It has been well said that what a minister is in his prayer closet before God alone is what he is – nothing more, nothing less. This is why the devil would have leaders do a hundred different wonderful things if he can stop of from praying. Spiritual leaders can only minister effectively when we pray consistently.
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Furthermore, spiritual leaders must be devoted to public prayer. The proclamation of the word is the most public thing that pastors do. But Acts 6:5 places prayer right alongside of the ministry of the word. It indicates that spiritual leaders are to be just as committed to leading the church to pray as we are in leading the church in the ministry of the word. The act of leading your congregation in prayer is a teaching opportunity we dare not approach negligently. We should do our best to prepare ourselves to lead the saints in corporate prayer.
Acts 6:1-7 is often considered the institution of deacons in the church. But the word “deacon” is not used in this text. Its related term “ministry” is used. But it does not apply to the office of deacons. And it is not used to describe the seven men selected to wait tables. It is used to describe the work of the apostles’ devotion to “the ministry of the word” (verse 4). Every Christian is a minister of Christ. But pastoral leaders have a unique calling. We serve Christ as ministers of the word. We are servants of the word.
Some people think pastors-teachers do very little work. They think we play golf all week and get up when its time to preach and let it rip. But those who do that are not true men of God. Indeed, some men make their pulpit work look so easy that you would think that it did not cost than any effort. But they have to work hard to make it look easy. The faithful ministry of the word requires preparation as well as proclamation. Really, the proclamation is the easy part. It’s the fun part. The burden is in the preparation.
Bible exposition does not grow on trees. God does not speak to preachers and supernaturally give them the exegesis of the text. Clear, faithful, and consistent preaching and teaching is usually 90 percent perspiration and 10 percent inspiration. You do all you can do and then God does what you cannot do. Paul instructs, “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15).
Editor’s Note: This originally published at HBCharlesJr.com
