It has long been my contention that the Reformed church never quite got over the Enlightenment. While we rightly reject this premise and that conclusion at the heart of the Enlightenment experiment, we still drink deep of its spirit. We deny that this world is all there is, but we live as though this world is all there is. We are willing to admit that the spiritual realm, the unseen, is real, but in turn we insist that the natural realm, the seen, is more real. We live as though all there is is this. In short, we lack faith.
Our eyes see a church that is corrupt, compromised and inconsequential. His Word tells us that we are seated with Christ in the heavenly places. We sit with Him who has already overcome the world. Our hearts see our own individual sins, our failures, our infidelities. His Word tells us we are being remade, that He who began a good work in us will see it through to the day of Christ Jesus. Our minds see our strategies, our alliances, as we seek change. His Word tells us it is through the foolishness of preaching that the souls are won and the world remade.
The truth is we live, as CS Lewis pointed out, in the Shadowlands. This world is being remade. We will spend eternity here, in the new heavens and the new earth. This is the world our Savior came to rescue, and we ought never to diminish it. In waging war against Gnosticism, however, we need to be careful not to wage war against heaven. In his great work The Great Divorce Lewis recounts a sort of field trip some sinners take from hell to if not heaven, at least its foothills. As the souls disembark their bus they squeal in pain. As they walk across the grass it feels to them like blades of diamonds. Why? The grass is dense to the point of pain precisely because it is so real. It carries the unbearable weight, the sublime beauty of being.
As we grow older, indeed as we suffer the pangs of this side of the veil, it seems by His grace the veil grows more thin, more gauzy. We move from hungering to get as much done in this life as we can, from squeezing life dry, to anticipating the freshness of eternity. As we grow older we come to understand that we’ve been looking at reality inside out. We no longer ponder what the other side must be like, and come to understand that we are on the other side. Here are the Shadowlands, and there is the Light who casts His shadow.
As we grow older we come to understand that the haunting melodies of Pachelbel, the soaring descants of Palestrina, these are just the orchestra getting in tune before the curtain goes up. As we grow older we come to understand that every dram of laughter, every scent of joy, these are but the echoes of eternity. As we grow older we come to understand that our Master Carpenter is indeed preparing a place for us, even as He prepares us for a place. If it were not so, would He have not told us?
While I haven’t the least trouble imagining that those in power are wicked enough to conspire against those over whom they rule, I do struggle to imagine they are smart enough to pull off many true conspiracies. Last night I saw a documentary on a con-man who pretended to be Saudi royalty, and while dining with a table full of deep pocketed investors he ordered and ate prosciutto. Think about that for a moment.
Today the number of people who believe lockdowns, masks and jabs are effective is roughly equal to the number of people who were actually helped by any of the above. For the math challenged, that’s zero. Potential plandemic conspirators are deep in the “fool me twice” weeds. The uni-party government cries of “WOLF!” can’t be heard because its voice is too hoarse from all the other “WOLF!” shoutings. There was a time when heads of state undoubtedly Snoopy danced over their discovery of just how much we were willing to put up with. But they pushed too far. And, as they say, we won’t get fooled again.
What then are we to make of all the rumblings? New strains too varied to be stopped. Airlines are pushing masks once again. People are getting sick, ad nauseum. First, it could be unexpected fallout from phase I. One doesn’t create a weaponizable illness, leak it and expect to cleanly pick up all the pieces. Conspiracies will always run into unintended consequences because conspirators don’t know the future as well as they’d like to think.
Second, there is no real reason to do phase II. It was a common theory, and I think not at all a bad one, that phase I was a trial run. Not on the virus or the health consequences, but on how we would respond. The goal of COVID was less to make people sick or dead, more to see what kind of draconian, fascist rules we’d be willing to accept. If there is going to be a phase II, it will likely simply be phase II of draconian, fascist rules, without the now worthless disease theater. There may be lockdowns. There may be shuttering of businesses. There will certainly be more monitoring of the citizenry. These may come, however, without a cardboard boogeyman, or with a different one. Climate change might do the trick. As one wise wag put it, “Is it COVID season again? I haven’t even taken down my Climate Change decorations.”
Third, what do they really want to control? One of the reasons we won’t get fooled again is because of unregulated speech. They could slander, fire, and dox the docs and other medical professionals that told the truth, but they couldn’t shut down the internet. We learned there was a simple, vainglorious man behind the curtain. Maybe this time, just in time for another election, they can suppress speech they don’t want us to hear. Control the press, jail the opposition, spy on your own people, control the means of production. Sound familiar?
That said, here’s one theory I can make sense of. Plandemic Phase II would be quite effective as a screening mechanism, flushing out all of us who won’t play ball.
What are they going to do today? The same thing they do every day. Plan to take over the world.
It’s a simple enough exercise, good for getting to bedrock principles. I ask my ethics students if it is ever right to tell a lie. Roughly 90% of them answer in the affirmative, with almost all of them embracing the concept of the little white lie. The bedrock we swiftly get to is that they all embrace consequentialism. This is a view of ethics that suggests that the most ethical choice is the one that brings the best results. If we tell our neighbor their child’s performance of Annie’s Tomorrow is well below the stellar line, the child’s feelings could be hurt, the neighborly relationship damaged and other not so good things. Before I get to what’s wrong with consequentialism, however, I try to point out that they don’t really know the consequences of such little white lies. It may get them out of one mess but toss the whole world into a frying pan. What if, I ask them, our little white lies cause everyone to no longer believe anyone?
Such is the world we are entering into, not through little white lies but through politically expedient lies. Rumors are aswirl that the fires in Canada and in Maui are not just fires, but intentional acts for some nefarious purpose. I have no evidence of this save this- the ones telling us “There’s nothing to see here” are the same ones who not only told us to wear masks, social distance and get the jab, but who told us that if we were skeptical of them we were science denying hillbillies. To put it more bluntly, how can you believe a government that has demonstrably, repeatedly, brazenly and unrepentantly lied to your face day after day?
The truth is that we cannot believe a word they say. The same is true of mainstream media, including our former friends at Fox. Any group of people who say, right to our face, that a baby is just a mass of cells, that a boy is a girl and that drag shows for kids is just harmless fun is a group of people we ought not to believe when they say “We don’t know whose cocaine that was” or, “Run, hurricane coming.” It’s bad enough they constantly pee on our legs without them also telling us it’s raining.
We are to give the truth to whom the truth is due. That is not everyone always. But the citizens of this nation are due the truth from their government. There is no reason that would excuse their lies. Nor do the lies of government with Democrats in power excuse the lies of government when Republicans are in power. The grievous guilt crosses the aisle. It also, however, touches the citizens, you and me. We contribute to the wholesale erosion of believability with every one of our own lies, whatever color they may be, red, blue, purple or white. We are the people of the Book. The Book is true in all that it affirms. By resistless logic then we are to be a people who are true in all that we affirm. That’s no lie.
Though we don’t give it its due, objectively speaking it is a rather dramatic moment. First, of course, there is the broader drama, a recreation of the temptation in the Garden of Eden, but this time taking place in a savage wilderness. Jesus, without food for forty days, is facing temptation from the devil. Immediately prior Jesus had received baptism from John, and God spoke from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with You I am well pleased” (Luke 3:22). The devil, just as he did in Eden begins by questioning the faithful Word of God, asking, “If you are the Son of God command the stone to become bread.” Jesus answers the assault with the Word of God- “It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone.” Satan then ups the ante, tempting not just with bread, but with all the kingdoms of the world, if only Jesus would worship him. Jesus again speaks God’s words- “You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only shall you serve.”
Then the devil, who is more crafty than any of the beasts of the field, surprises us. He begins his final assault with a shocking weapon. He encourages Jesus to throw Himself off the temple’s pinnacle, using God’s own words- He will command His angels concerning you, to guard you- and On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.” Dirty pool. But then Dirty Pool may just be the devil’s middle name.
Jesus triumphs. But we are left shaken. If the devil can use even God’s Word against us, what hope do we have? Not much, unless we understand how important it is to understand God’s Word, unless we learn to rightly divide. In both the Garden and in the wilderness the devil did what he always does- he undermines what God has said. His assaults on the Word, however, can come from any number of directions. The direct assault has its diabolical benefits. When we come to the Bible believing it to merely be a politically motivated account of the convictions of a primitive people, we show ourselves to already be on his side. When we take a baby step to the right and affirm that the Bible contains God’s Words, mixed in, under and around the words of men, we are still on the wrong side of the battle.
Are we safe, though, if we not only attest to our conviction that the Bible is God’s inerrant and infallible Word, true in everything it teaches, but having thus affirmed actually fail to avail ourselves of the Bible? Not yet, not by any stretch of the imagination. After all, the Pharisees believed this. Worse still, their father, the devil believes this as well. If we would rightly wield the sword of the Lord we have to not only read the Word, believe the Word, but we must also love the Word and study the Word. We must, in short, love the Word of God will all our hearts, minds, souls and strengths. It’s only bibliolatry if we separate what no man can tear asunder, God’s being and His truth. If we wish to be changed, washed by His Word, then we must study it well.
Rome rightly understands that we are not yet out of the wilderness when we simply affirm that the Bible is true and trustworthy. Her solution, however, simply makes things worse. Because men can and do interpret the Bible wrongly, Rome reasons, God gave us the church which has the ability to give us the authoritative and perfectly accurate interpretation. There are two problems here. First, God nowhere made any such promise. If men are imperfect, and His Word is perfect, then men must submit to His Word, rather than the Word submitting to men. Second is the problem of infinite regress. If we cannot know God’s perfect Word unless we have an inerrant interpretation, then do we not need an inerrant interpretation of the interpretation? Assuming we could find such a thing, would it too not need an inerrant interpretation? Once we embrace the notion that we must have a perfect interpretation to understand something, we will forever be chasing the perfect interpretation of the perfect interpretation of the perfect interpretation, ad nauseum.
Protestants agree that we must interpret the Bible properly. One key difference, however, is how we understand what it means to interpret. In the hands of Rome, or in the hands of those given to postmodern gobbledy-gook, “to interpret” something is to finish it. That is, both Rome and liberalism look at the Bible as an unfinished book, and hermeneutics is the science of finishing the job. The Bible is like a monolith of granite. We come to it and through the science of interpretation chip away and polish and chisel until the full and final message is revealed. By no means.
Hermeneutics, or more commonly the science of interpretation, isn’t about turning a slab into the Pieta. It is instead learning to see the Pieta for what it is. We, when we interpret well, are being shaped and formed by God’s Word that is already finished and complete. The science of hermeneutics is never finishing the message, but hearing it. It is allowing the text to speak. It isn’t contributing our two cents, but getting out of the way. Our calling is to listen, and to say “Amen.”
We are, however, Pelagians at heart. Even as we want to contribute something to our salvation, so we want to contribute something to our interpretation. The Bible then is sliced and diced, molded and shaped, twisted and distorted. Consider, for a moment, the medieval scholastics. Here the goal was open and unashamed- we must learn to synthesize the Bible with Aristotle. If we can take the wisdom of the one and meld it together with the wisdom of the other, these folks seemed to think, we’ll have even more wisdom. One wonders how there could not have been even one desert prophet there to expose the nakedness of this hermeneutical emperor. Well, I suppose God did send one eventually, Martin Luther. For one could make a strong argument that Rome’s departure from the faith began here.
We who are Protestant, however can have our own versions of impositions on the text. There is a brand of hyper-covenantalism out there that forgets that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, that, like lawyers gone wild, can’t bear to see a relationship that is just a relationship, that comes to us without a suzerain/vassal form from the Ancient Near East. And, of course, the covenant must appear to us in a chiastic structure. We are lawyers with biblical poetry and poets with biblical law, all while looking down our noses at the other guys’ mistakes.
Then there is that system that is the anti-system. Here we are so committed to coming to the text with no preconceived notions that we don’t allow even the Bible to give us any preconceived notions. That is, lest we be tagged with “system” we have this text telling us this and that text telling us the opposite. We treat the Word of God not as a coherent whole, but as a huge mass of isolated bits of data. We forget the first rule of sound hermeneutics- that Scripture interprets Scripture. Jesus understood this quite well which is precisely how He was able to combat the Serpent’s use of Scripture against Him.
Hermeneutics then isn’t so much a set of rules and regulations that will make it possible for the Bible to speak. It is instead a set of principles to help us not drown out the Bible as it speaks. Remembering that Scripture interprets Scripture, we move on to the most simple rule of all, though it has a rather complicated name. We let Scripture speak when we remember how language works, that nouns are nouns, verbs are verbs, and forms are forms. That is we interpret well when we stick with the grammatico-historical method. This is a “literalist” approach not in the sense that it denies the use of metaphor, simile and sundry other poetic forms, but in that it allows each of these forms to operate as they ought. To suggest that when Jesus says “I am the door” that we ought to expect to find on His person hinges and a door-knob isn’t to be faithful and literal, but to once again impose from without rather than to listen from within.
To be simple in hearing God speak then is to not complicate things by bringing our own baggage to the table. We affirm that we are joining a conversation that began without us and that will continue after us. We submit to it, rather than asking it to submit to us. We, in seeking to practice faithful hermeneutics, do not come with our systems, but submit to its systems. We see poetry as poetry, proverbs as proverbs, and history as history. We listen to hear God speak.
The God who speaks to us in His Word is the God who is about the business of making known the glory of His reign over all things, including us. Just as the kingdom does not exist for us, but we for the kingdom, so the Word does not exist for us, but we for the Word. For if we would learn but one thing from His Word it is this- in the beginning was the Word. And the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word and the Son are one. May we give honor to both by submitting to both. May we see Him in the Word, as we see the Word in Him. Glory and kingdom, Word and Word.
That depends on any number of factors. As with so many other means of communication, technology and the internet have broken down barriers and busted through gatekeepers. You can write a book, publish it yourself, sell it online and reach thousands and make tens of thousands. That’s the good news. The bad news is you can also invest hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars only to have your best friend tell you they thought it was good, but they were too busy to finish it.
The goal is communication, which takes two. You as the writer are the sender of the message. The reader is the receiver of the message. To answer the question of whether you should write a book you have to ask these questions:
Is my potential book the best way to communicate my message? On average fewer than 50% of Americans have read even one book all the way through in the last year. We are increasingly a nation that can only consume images or the briefest of written formats. Try to estimate the relative amount of work, reach and impact writing you book might have.
Will my book communicate this message better than other books? I’d love to write a book contrasting the Christian faith and theological liberalism. But J. Gresham Machen pretty well covered that in his classic Christianity and Liberalism. It is perfectly understandable to love a book so much you want to write one just like it. But why? Unless of course there is some reason you can reach an audience the earlier book hasn’t.
Do I have the skills to a. communicate accurately and b. communicate well enough to hold the attention of my potential audience? Many aspiring writers think the hard thing about writing a book is coming up with 50,000 words on a particular theme. They think once they’ve done so they’ve created some sort of obligation on others to read those words. Sadly, sometimes those words are wrong. Other times those words are painful to read. Sometimes they are both.
Will I or my publisher be able to persuade people to buy/read my book? Writing the book is the easiest part. Getting it into publishing shape is a little harder. Finding a publisher (if you go that route) is a bit harder still. Getting people to buy the book is even more difficult. Most difficult of all is getting people to actually read my book.
Of course there is no way to know the answer to all of these questions in advance. Publishing history is riddled with great writers who had rejection letters sufficient to paper their own walls. You can, however, do your best to give an honest assessment and seek the counsel of others on these questions. What you shouldn’t expect is to be catapulted to fame and fortune. It could happen, but so could winning the lottery. That doesn’t make it likely.
I have served as a coach, editor, co-writer, ghost-writer for others over the years and so have some expertise. That’s why I operate The Purpose Driven Write, offering those very services to both aspiring and working writers. If you’d like to discuss your project, feel free to email me at hellorcjr@gmail.com.
The early church faced at least two distinct and competing enemies. While Jesus walked the earth and after, the great challenge to the kingdom of God was found both in the Roman Empire and in Judaism. An armed force that was, though given to emperor worship, essentially secular and a false religion put their differences aside to eradicate a faith built around a King who had been given all authority in heaven and on earth.
I was reminded of this odd juxtaposition several years ago when I had the opportunity to travel to Burma to teach and train a group of godly pastors and elders who ended up teaching me. Burma is a country that is also in the grip of two great enemies of the reign of Jesus Christ, two fearsome institutions that will not kiss the Son (Ps. 2). Most people know that Burma is a military dictatorship. A military junta has ruled there for decades. That concept, of course, we’re used to. Though Burma is far less famous, we are familiar with North Korea, with Cuba, with China. What is odd is that Burma not only suffers from a military dictatorship, it suffers from a prevalent, widespread false religion. Burma is ninety percent Buddhist.
Now it is one thing for a brutal secular state to coexist with a dominant religion. It is another thing altogether for a brutal secular state to coexist with a religion that is purported to embrace all the broadmindedness and gentleness of spirit that we associate with Buddhism. We are, of course, accustomed to being fearful of militant Islam. We are aware of the ugly brutality associated with the animist religions in the darker corners of Africa. We are, if we are educated in the least, cognizant of the bloodthirsty gods associated with Hinduism. But Buddhists? Aren’t they a rather passive and gentle lot?
Some, indeed, might be tempted to think that the coexistence of a brutal police state and a “peaceful” religion makes perfect sense. The military suppresses the people, and the people turn to Buddhism as a way to cope with the hardship. They bear the brunt of brutality by longing to be absorbed into the One.
Such a perspective misses the point on at least two counts. First, it is a common but fundamental mistake to put the exercise of authority on the evil side of a spectrum and quietness on the good side of the same spectrum. Passiveness is not next to godliness, however, precisely because brutality does exist. When someone is beating my child, I do not calm my soul by closing my eyes, adopting the lotus position, and chanting my mantra. Love means protecting my children, actively defending them. It means not turning my back on authority but exercising my God-given authority to defend what He has placed under my care. The state is as brutal as it is in Burma in part because the false Eastern religion practiced there allows it to be. It is not, of course, just Burma. The same passiveness of Buddhism contributes to the great shame of neighboring Thailand. There, prostitution is a way of life, Thailand itself having become a destination spot for sexual adventurers.
The second mistake is to misunderstand the nature of the state and religion. When Henry Van Til described culture as religion externalized, he wasn’t just talking about Christian cultures. A close look at any culture will reveal the underlying religion. The dictatorship of Burma isn’t something in contrast to the Buddhism of that nation, but it is the result of that Buddhism. A people whose goal is to be absorbed will tend toward a state that is happy to comply with their wishes. They will be absorbed into the collective. The Buddhists of Burma are not some poor, misunderstood victim group of the junta. They are the parents of the junta.
As sorrowful a nation as Burma is, however, Jesus is at work there. I met faithful, godly saints there who are seeking first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. My friend Naing Thang leads a group of three hundred pastors all across the country who bring the gospel to the lost. He runs an orphanage out of his home, a mishmash of corrugated metal and dirt floors.
Naing, in proclaiming Christ and Him crucified, is speaking to both of the great evils in His land. He reminds the Buddhists that the goal is not that we would all be absorbed, but that we would be remade. The world is no illusion, but it is instead groaning under our sin, as it, too, is being redeemed by our Lord. He reminds the military rulers that Jesus Christ is Lord, that He reigns, and that all those who refuse to kiss Him will be dashed to pieces like a potter’s vessel (Ps. 2).
Naing does this in his land even as we are called to do it in our own. He speaks the Word into the world, and He feeds the sheep with the same Word. He lives a life of service and example, a life of joy grounded in the risen and reigning Lord Jesus. I went there to teach him. Instead, he taught me.
All those who preach want their preaching to have impact. I suspect that in all those who preach, this desire is born of a mixture of two other desires, the desire to have congregants and the kingdom blessed, and the less spiritual desire to have the congregation see the preacher as a blessing. Those preachers who are a bit stronger in the more healthy desire better recognize that the power is in the text look down their noses at any sort of sermon delivery that veers from the Puritan model, where sermons were read to the congregation in a dull, dry monotone. The motives are good. The execution, not so much.
On the other side of the spectrum are those who struggle a bit more with the need to be the star of the show. These preachers study the techniques of the best showmen, turning preaching into performance. They may have their flock weeping, or more likely, laughing in the aisles. They may draw large crowds and bountiful accolades. The true impact, however, will tend to remain minimal.
The truth is the power is in the Word. Theatrics have a power, but not the power. Theatrics elicits a response, but not growth in grace. The truth is also, however, that the power of the Word comes when its power is brought with it. To preach God’s Word as if one were reading a telephone book (ask your parents if you don’t know what that is) is tantamount to lying. This method sends the message that the message is unimportant, impotent, boring. It may be on the opposite side of the spectrum of preaching in an Elmer Fudd voice, but both reveal the obvious truth that how we communicate impacts what we communicate.
To under-shepherd well begins with knowing one is a sheep first. And a sheep that is prone to wander. To preach the gospel well one must not just understand the gospel well, but experience it in power. That’s not bells and whistles but brokenness and tears. To preach well the pastor must know he is preaching not for himself but to himself. Every week at Sovereign Grace Fellowship I preach five things. I preach the text. I preach how the text demonstrates that we are in ourselves wretched and blind sinners. I preach how the text demonstrates that we are not in ourselves, but in Him who has redeemed us to the uttermost. I preach how the text demonstrates that our heavenly Father loves us infinitely, immutably and by name. Finally, I preach the table, that “sermon” Jesus gave us to teach us the same truths.
I preach this way because I want my preaching to have impact. I preach this way because this is the kind of preaching that has impacted me. I preach this way because I want to communicate not, “Be like me” but “Come with me.” As the saying goes, I’m just a beggar telling other beggars where to find bread.
