The Song of Solomon

—Smuts van Rooyen

The first time I read the book, Song of Solomon, I wondered, what is the sense of this Bible book? But as I have studied this Song of Songs, it has become a great blessing to me. I have discovered it to be perhaps the strongest affirmation of  ‘Christ Our Righteousness’ in the Old Testament.

SCENE I

The song is a love story of a girl who was in terrible shape because her family had rejected her. There had been some kind of squabble in the family; her brothers didn’t like her, and they forced her to do the work that they were supposed to do. Evidently, each child had been assigned a section of the father’s vineyard, and she had been given a section to take care of too.

But the brothers made her work in their sections of the vineyard, pruning, training, cleaning. As she slaved away day-by-day in that vineyard, she came to really hate the place. The sun shone down on her, and her fair complexion became dark and leathery (1:5-6). She imagined she was no longer beautiful. She lost all confidence in herself and became shy and retiring. This is how the book, Song of Solomon, begins.

So as this girl was working away one day, a shepherd tending his sheep brought his flock close to her vineyard. He walked over to the fence and began to speak to her, and she responded shyly. The next day when she went to the vineyard, she worked close to the fence and the shepherd came over again. Over a period of time, this shy, darkly-tanned, rejected girl, who had lost all confidence in herself, fell in love with this lowly shepherd.

But one day he didn’t show up. She was crushed. Her time with the shepherd each day was the one bright spot in her life. So she dropped everything and rushed frantically into the town. She spoke with the daughters of Jerusalem. ‘Oh, please, please tell me where it is that I can find my beloved. Where can I find that shepherd that came over to speak to me?’

And these daughters of Jerusalem replied, ‘Your dad has a few goats; take the young kids and let them graze near to where the shepherds have their tents. Take them there to feed and the chances are you’ll meet your shepherd who came to the vineyard everyday to speak to you.’

So she does this. She herds the kids and goes out to where the shepherds are camping and starts to inquire about her particular shepherd. She finds him, but when she finds him, he is not dressed in his shepherd garb. To her utter amazement, she discovers that this lowly shepherd is none other than King Solomon himself.

Evidently King Solomon wanted somebody who would love him for what he was, and not for his position. He figured out that maybe he could find a wife who could love him for what he was if he masqueraded as a shepherd.

Can you imagine her shock? She has fallen in love with King Solomon, and King Solomon has fallen in love with her. He is so thrilled that she would love him for what he is that he arranges—would you believe it—their wedding!

So now, here is a lowly vinedresser about to marry King Solomon. He brings her into his glittering banquet hall where all the royal guests he has invited—kings, princes, ambassadors and dignitaries— are sitting at long tables with white table-cloths, on which are beautiful golden dishes. A really high-class affair for a poor little vinedresser! As she comes in, she is awfully self-conscious, but she’s by the side of her lover. She knows she’s not worthy of any of this, and she’s shy because of what she is. She doesn’t think she’s beautiful—she doesn’t have anything she thinks he would really like.

She sits down at the table. She looks around and then looks above her at King Solomon’s family banner suspended from the ceiling. Embroidered on it is the family emblem, the family motto, and the family name. She suddenly realises that the banner hanging over her means that his name is now hers. Everything he is, she will be regarded as being, because she is joined to him. In the eyes of all the people there, she is no longer the vinedresser’s daughter. She is the Queen. She is Mrs. Solomon. She says of her husband: ‘He has taken me to the banquet hall, and his banner over me is love’ (2:4).

SCENE II

King Solomon loves his new bride so very much that she is constantly on his heart. He calls to her one day in spring, and he tenderly says, ‘Come on, sweetheart, spring is here; let’s spend the day together’. ‘Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me’ (2:10-13).

Friends, just as nature responds to spring, just as nature responds to the sun, so Jesus comes to us and he wants us to respond in the same wholehearted, beautiful manner. The forsythia doesn’t gripe about responding to the sunshine, nor do the roses or the dogwood. When the sun shines, they respond beautifully, wholeheartedly. And when Jesus approaches us, he likes us to respond as nature responds to spring.

But Solomon’s new bride suggests instead that he take a walk. ‘You just be like a deer out there on the mountains. Have a good day, OK?’

But when the night arrives he doesn’t return. Well, surely he will come tomorrow morning. But tomorrow morning comes, and still he doesn’t come. By the time night comes again, she recognizes that her beloved will not force her to love him. She realises the terrible mistake she’s made.

So, in a frenzy of desperation, she runs out and begins to look for her lover. She finds watchmen on the wall, and she cries, ‘You’ve been watching the streets here. Have you seen my beloved?’ And one   watchman   says, ‘Madam, you’re in luck. I saw him.’And he tells her where he went. And so the girl runs off in search of her beloved. She says, ‘Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my heart loves. I held him and would not let him go’ (3:4).

SCENE III

The third scene is a very interesting one. The peasants of the village where the girl originally lived, stare far down the road at a great cloud of dust coming their way. They look at each other and ask, ‘What’s that? Maybe it’s an army coming! ’ So they send somebody to investigate, to see what it is. They can’t believe the sight! It’s a procession that is approaching! Coming towards them is no less than a pageant from the palace (3:6-10).

For this occasion King Solomon had a special carriage made for him and the Queen, all made of gold and silver with pillows of purple velvet. So here comes this procession, escorted by sixty armed warriors! Inside sits King Solomon and his new bride. And they arrive at her little town. What a sight!

Can you visualise all of the girls she grew up with, standing around, looking in? And there she sits— prim and proper—Mrs. Solomon! And as everybody looks in they become aware of the perfume that pervades the whole interior. She’s covered with Solomon’s perfume; she’s dressed with clothes that he has purchased; she’s riding in his carriage; she is protected by his presence. What’s more, everything King Solomon is, she is regarded as being. They draw back their curtain, the daughters of Jerusalem look in and they see the vinedresser’s daughter. Her immediate response to them is ‘Look at my husband!’

And then the King speaks, and here are his incredible words: ‘All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you’ (4:7). Now wait a minute. King Solomon. What do you mean, ‘There is no flaw in you’? She’s still at heart the vinedresser’s daughter; she hasn’t really changed that much. How can you say, ‘All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you’?

The answer is very simple: she is clothed by his presence. It isn’t a matter of God treating us as forgiven sinners—that would be good enough. But God not only treats us as forgiven sinners, He treats us as if we had never sinned. You see, Jesus never sinned, and the character of Jesus is accepted by God in lieu of my character. And since God accepts it, he regards me as if I had never sinned. That is truly incredible! And God says these words of us, ‘All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you.’

SCENE IV

After the marriage the new bride decides to do something special for her husband. This was her supreme gift of love. Do you remember that old vineyard in which she slaved away—where the sun burnt her skin black, and where she lost her confidence and where she hated herself—that symbol of oppression and hatred? Remember that old vineyard? Now that she knows and loves Solomon a change has taken place in her life, and she says, ‘I want to do something really super for my beloved. You know what I’m going to do for him? I’m going to work in that vineyard. I’m going to give that vineyard to him and I’m going to work in it. I’m going to turn out a greater profit in that vineyard than any of the other vineyards King Solomon owns.’

That is true love, isn’t it? And if the vineyard can be taken as representing her hard labour, can we see that, prior to her meeting with King Solomon, the vineyard was an oppressive thing. After her meeting King Solomon, however, her labour in the vineyard became a way of expressing her love to her king.

This glorious story of a young girl, who married a king, is a symbol of your marriage to a King—the King of the Universe. Friends, are you still slaving away in the vineyard back there, or are you now working with joy in your heart in the vineyard over here?

(If you want to study the song for yourself, I’d like to recommend to you the book by Hudson Taylor: Union and Communion. This is a fantastic piece of literature. It can be found on:  www.amazon.com).

How to Interpret Scripture

—Ritchie Way

PART I

What are those dark, swirling clouds in the distance? Is it a hurricane? A forest fire? A stampede? A sand-storm? Or a locust plague? What is that gnawing pain in your stomach? Indigestion? Stom- ach ulcer? Hunger? Or could it be cancer? Apart from the very little we know instinctively, everything else must be interpreted. The whole of life, from conception to death, consists of making interpretations and applying the knowledge we have learned from our interpretations.

Most people manage, without too much difficulty, to correctly interpret the minor events of everyday life. But the more complex problems, such as a chronic gnawing pain in the stomach, or an unusual long-term change in the weather pattern, require an expert’s interpretation.

Now many of us would like to be expert at something, so let’s ask ourselves, ‘How can a person be an expert interpreter? What enables the doctor and the weather-man to interpret the symptoms or signs in their work better than we can?’ Surprisingly enough, the answer is quite simple. Experts, or professionals, have been trained to recognize patterns in their work.

PATTERNS

The work of scientists and professional people everywhere is based on the belief that the whole of life operates in patterns. We see these patterns in the daily sunrise and sunset, the lunar pattern from new moon to full moon, the seasonal pattern of spring, summer, autumn and winter, the pattern of the tides, the patterns in crystals and laws of motion, and patterns in behaviour, such as grief, etc. Without patterns, life would not only be unintelligible, it would be impossible.

We live in a universe of patterns, and life only makes sense as we are able to understand these patterns. A person who is unable to detect anything but the most elementary patterns of life is called a moron, while the person most adept at discerning patterns is called a genius. Your ability to detect patterns is called your intelligence quotient, or I.Q. What to one person is a meaningless mixture of facts or figures, is to a more intelligent person an exciting pattern.

Before you can solve any problem you must first discover the pattern. See if you can predict the 5th letter in this series by first discovering the pattern: A C F J …

Discover the pattern and fill in the blank spaces in this puzzle:

Even such a simple game as naughts and crosses depends on the ability of each player to programme a pattern of three naughts or three crosses in a row. You can’t play naughts and crosses with a monkey, because a monkey is not able to recognise patterns of this kind. Every field of science, whether it is mathematics and logic, the physical sciences, the biological sciences, the social sciences, or the science of redemption, has its own special patterns. Thx rxal diffxrxncx bxtwxxn a laypxrson and an xxpxrt is that thx xxpxrt has bxxn trainxd to rxcognizx pattxrns in his or hxr particular fixld or profxssion.

Don’t let the pattern in the foregoing sentence obscure its message. If you wish to become a skilled interpreter you have no choice but to train yourself to recognize patterns in your particular field(s) of interest. This set of studies, while dealing with only the most basic patterns of prophecy, will give you a foundation on which to build your own research in this exciting field.

EVERY PATTERN HAS A KEY

When I was a young lad I remember helping my father, who was a builder, to lay out the foundation for a garage. With his tape measure he measured off three units along one side from the corner, four units along the adjoining side from the same corner, then adjusted the angle between the two sides so that the third side of the triangle was exactly five units. He knew then that the building would be square.

It doesn’t matter what units, or multiples of units are used—whether feet, yards, metres or cubits—the result is always the same if the formula is adhered to.

I didn’t find out until many years later that builders have been using this ‘magic 3-4-5’ triangle for at least 4000 years. The Egyptians were using it two millennia before Christ to square the foundations for their pyramids.

About 500BC Pythagorus, a Greek mathematician, discovered the key to this magic triangle. He found that in every right-angle triangle, if you added together the squares of the two sides that make the right angle, the total would equal the square of the longest side (the hypotenuse), e.g.
3 x 3 = 9
4 x 4 = 16
5 x 5 = 25.

Now that Pythagorus has given us the key to this magic triangle we are no longer restricted to the figures 3. 4. 5, or their multiples. With his formula (a2 + b2 = c2) it is now a simple matter to work out the length of the third side of a right-angle triangle if we are given the other two. For example c2 – b2 = a2, or c2 – a2 = b2.

PREDICTION FROM PATTERNS

One rewarding aspect of true science is that a scientist is able to make sound predictions on the basis of a key to a pattern. Dmitri Mendeleev discovered a key to the natural elements and was able to predict the existence of certain basic elements some time before they were discovered in nature.

In the 1860s Mendeleev discovered that the natural elements, such as aluminium, copper, silver, mercury, etc., formed a definite pattern on a chart when entered in the order of their atomic weights (a more accurate key, discovered later, is the atomic number of each element). For example, gold was entered next in line to platinum because it was the next heaviest in atomic weight, and so on. The vital key was the atomic weight of each element. After entering the eighty-eight known elements, he finished with several gaps in his chart.

Having identified the pattern and its key, Mendeleev found it a relatively simple matter to predict the atomic weights of the missing elements. His predictions were proven true, and the gaps were filled by the discovery of gallium in 1875, scandium in 1879, and germanium in 1886.

Now what is true in the physical world is also true in the spiritual. Two millennia ago Jesus used the known physical world to explain the unknown spiritual world. For example, a fisherman sorting his catch into good and bad piles pictured the Final Judgement (Matt. 13:47-50). A hired man who ploughs up buried treasure and then sells everything he has in order to buy the field so that the treasure will be his, portrays a person who discovers the good news about Jesus and gives up everything that prevents him from having Jesus (Matt. 13:44).

THE FOCAL POINT OF ALL PROPHECY

Jesus is the key to all Old Testament prophecy. The whole of the Old Testament points to him (Luke 24:27, 44). The major purpose of all prophecy is to turn us to belief in Jesus. If prophecy does not establish our belief in Jesus we have misunderstood it. In John 13:19 Jesus said, ‘I am telling you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe that I am he.’ ‘For no matter how many promises God has made, they are Yes in Christ’ (2 Cor 1:20). It is through Jesus that the promises of God are fulfilled to us.

There are several different types of prophecy in the Old Testament that point to Jesus:

1. Typical Prophecy     E.g. Lev. 26:11-12.
2. Classical Prophecy   E.g. Isa. 53:1-12.
3. Apocalyptic Prophecy E.g. Dan. 9:24-27.

This particular study will concentrate on Typical Prophecy. Typical prophecy has two basic sub groups: One group deals with the inanimate types of Jesus, and the other with the animate types.

Some of the inanimate types which pointed to Jesus were:

  Prophecy Fulfilment
a. Jacob’s ladder Gen 28:12 John 1:51
b. The bronze snake Num 21:9 John 3:14-15
c. The temple Lev 26:11-12 John 2:19-22.

Some of the animate types that pointed to Jesus were:

  Prophecy Fulfilment
a. The Passover Lamb Exod 12:2-13 1 Cor 5:7
b. Moses Deut 18:15,18 John 6:14
c. Jonah Jonah 1:17 Matt 12:39-40.

The following are examples of typical prophecy. The lives of these people were recorded in Scripture because they were prophecies of the Coming One, Jesus.

JOSEPH, SON OF JACOB

Gen. 37:12-14 He was sent by his father to hisbrothers John 1:11.
Gen. 37:5-10 He was rejected because of his claims to rulership John 5:18.
Gen. 37:18-28 He was betrayed and sold for pieces of silver Matt. 26:14-16.
Gen. 39:17-18 He was falsely accused Acts. 7:52.
Gen. 39:20 He was unjustly condemned Acts 13:28.
Gen. 40:1-3 He was punished with two other prisoners Matt. 27:38.
Gen. 40:21-22 One prisoner was saved and the other lost Luke 23:39-43.
Gen. 41:14; 39-40 He came forth from the ground and was exalted to the right hand of the king Eph. 1:20.
Gen. 41:41-44 All power was given into his hands Eph. 1:21-22.
Gen. 47:11-12 He becomes a saviour to his people and to the Gentiles who come to him for bread, because they can’t save themselves Rom. 8:34.
Gen. 47:14-20 To get this bread of life they had to forsake all Luke 14:33.
Gen. 47:25 He restored the kingdom to the king 1 Cor.15:24.

MOSES: (Deut 18:15; Acts 7:37).

Acts 7:35 He was the promised Deliverer Luke 4:16-21.
Exod. 2:1-10 He was loaned to his mother Matt. 1:18-21.
Exod. 1:22 At his birth all the baby boys were slain Matt. 2:16.
Heb. 11:24-26 He left his royal throne to live with his downtrodden people John 1:14.
Acts 7:3 His ministry started with 40 times in the wilderness Luke 4:1-2.
Num. 11:6 He chose others to help him Luke 10:1.
Deut. 34:10 He alone has known God face to face John 7:29.
Num. 12:6-8 God spoke to the people through him Heb. 1:1-2.
Deut. 34:11-12 He delivered his people from bondage with miracles Acts 2:22.
Psa. 105:41 He gave his people living water John 4:13-14.
Psa. 105:40 He fed them miraculously with bread John 6:10-14.
Exod. 34:29-30 He was glorified on a mountain Matt 17:1-2.
Deut. 11:8-12 He continually pointed his people to the kingdom at hand Matt 4:23.
Num. 20:2-13 He died because of his people’s sin 1 Pet 3:18
Jude 9 He was resurrected and taken to heaven Acts 5:30
Matt 17:3 From there he ministers to the righteous Acts 5:31

Moses predicted that God would raise up a prophet like himself (Deut. 18:15). The Jews of the first century AD looked for the new Moses who would again deliver Israel. They wondered how this new Moses would feed the people with manna, and give them laws as the first Moses did (John 6:14). They expected that he would deliver Israel from the bondage of Rome, as Moses delivered them from the bondage of Egypt (John 6:15). But the Greater Moses was to deliver them from more than the bondage of one nation—he came to deliver his people from the bondage of the whole world.

SAMSON

Jud. 13:1-3 His birth was foretold by an angel Luke 1:26-38.
Jud. 13:5 He was to be a deliverer of his people Luke 4:17-18.
Jud. 13:6 He had supernatural power John 7:31.
Jud. 15:13-15 He turned every defeat into victory Mark 12:13-24.
Jud. 16:15-21 He allowed himself to be betrayed by a friend John 13:18-30.
Jud. 16:21 He was bound, mocked, tortured and imprisoned John 18:12-14.
Jud. 16:28-30 At his death he stretched forth his hands and shook the pillars of Satan’s kingdom until it collapsed John 12:30-33.
Jud. 6:30 The victory he won by his death was greater than the victory he won by his life Heb 2:14.
Jud 6:31 He was unable to save himself, but he saved others Matt 27:42.

DAVID

His name means ‘the beloved’. He was born in Bethlehem. He was a good shepherd who became king. He was sent by his father to the place where God’s people were engaged in a life-and-death struggle with the enemy. Without special protection, or supernatural weapons of any kind, he there fought with the giant of evil who had been flinging taunts for forty days. He attacked him, not with sword or spear, but in the name of the Lord, and destroyed him with his own weapon (Heb 2:14). He is a mighty warrior who never lost a battle. Of him it is written: ‘Why do the nations rage … against the Lord and against his anointed One’ (Psa. 2:1-2; Acts 4:25-26).

SUMMARY AND CHALLENGE

As we have seen, the key to the interpretation of Old Testament prophecy is Jesus. Several examples have been given. One of the most remarkable types of Jesus, however, is Jonah. We challenge you to discover the parallels between Jonah and Jesus for yourself. If you so desire, email your script to me at ritchiew@kiwilink.co.nz . We will compile a list of parallels from the best types sent in and publish it in the magazine.

NEXT MONTH

Jesus claimed that the Old Testament sanctuary was a prophecy about him (John 2:19-21). Next month we will look at the Hebrew sanctuary to see in what way(s) it pointed forward to Jesus and his ministry.

Charles Spurgeon —1834-1892

—Desmond Ford*

If ever there was a parallel to Whitefield in oratorical skills and gospel zeal it was Spurgeon. Even today, more people around the world read Spurgeon than any other religious writer. His ministry embraced the world, though he, himself, rarely travelled further beyond the British Isles than across the English Channel. American newspapers printed his sermons, and multitudes across Europe, Canada, and Australia learned the gospel of justification by faith from the eloquent London preacher.

He founded a Pastor’s College, an orphanage, temperance and clothing societies, a Pioneer Mission, and a Colportage Association. During his thirty-eight year London ministry he added to the church almost fifteen thousand new members.

It is doubtful whether any minister who ever lived (except Calvin) toiled as Spurgeon did. His labours were almost unremitting (though he strove unsuccessfully to preserve a weekly day for a reprieve), and partly responsible for his frequent bouts of illness and early death. There are about one hundred books that bear his name as author. Many of these were compiled from his regular preaching.

He was an evangelical Calvinist, but this never hindered his free offers of grace. A bell-like voice, a mastery of language and his keen sense of humour, contributed to his fascination as a preacher. Converted through the ministry of a lay preacher when only fifteen, he was energized by the gospel to personally present justification by faith to congregations across England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Western Europe. Over several years he averaged eight to twelve outside services a week, all over the Empire, and Holland and France. His London church so grew that a larger building was needed, and the Metropolitan Tabernacle was completed in 1861.

Through his early years of ministry he faced a tide of slander and vilification, including bitter criticisms by fellow ministers who were jealous of his popularity. In 1865 he preached to approximately twelve thousand people in the Surrey Music Hall. Mischief-makers, without conscience, caused a panic by shouting  ‘Fire!’ where no fire was. Seven people died in the confusion, and many were seriously injured. Spurgeon’s grief almost cost him his reason. Only the unceasing ministry of the Holy Spirit restored him, but he bore the emotional and mental scars till his death. ‘Giant Despair’ became his recurring enemy.

From November 1856 to December 1859 ten thousand people crowded the Surrey Hall meetings. London cabbies shouted, ‘Over the river to Charlie’. After the Tabernacle was completed, an average of five thousand people assembled every Sunday, morning and evening. Once a quarter he asked his own people to stay away that others might come. And come they did, jamming the vast Tabernacle. When the Tabernacle was being refurbished in 1867 Spurgeon preached in the Agricultural Hall, Islington with twenty thousand in average attendance. The elite came, including Gladstone, Ruskin, Shaftesbury, Queen Victoria, along with famous globetrotters, statesmen, soldiers, authors, artists and industrial captains. Richard Ellsworth Day in his biography, The Shadow of the Broad Brim, adds to the list: ‘rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief; factory girls, artisans, street women, ne’er-do-wells and drunks; farmers, carter’s boys, shopkeepers and dairy maids.’

But pre-eminently his listeners were the common people. In a letter Spurgeon wrote: ‘The Lord Mayor, a Jew, has been … the Chief Commissioner of Police also … but better still, some thieves, thimbleriggers (a shell game), harlots; … and some are now in the church.’ By the time of his death Baptists had become a world force. A well known Doctor of Divinity wrote a pamphlet about Spurgeon in which the following appeared—words addressed first to Spurgeon, and next to every minister:

‘You have strong faith, and as the result, intense earnestness. In this lies, as in the hair of Samson, the secret of your power. Go on, my brother, and may God give you a still larger amount of ministerial success! “Preach the Word,” the old theology, that “glorious gospel of the blessed God,” for which apostles laboured, and martyrs died. In all your teachings, continue to exhibit the Cross of Christ as occupying, in the Christian revelation, like the sun in our planetary system, the very centre, and imparting to all their light and heat. Tell the people that every doctrine, duty, or promise of the Scriptures stands intimately connected with the Cross, and from that connection, derives its meaning and value to us. Thus exhibiting the whole system of Divine Truth in its harmony and symmetry, what a glorious prospect of honour, happiness, and usefulness presents itself to your view!’ (W. Joseph Harrald, The Autobiography of Charles H. Spurgeon 1854-1860, p. 79).

Here are some fragments from his preaching:

‘My Lord wore my crown of thorns for me, why should I wear it too? He took our griefs and carried our sorrows that we might be a happy people and be able to obey the command, “Take no thought for the morrow.” Ours is the crown of loving kindness and tender mercies and we wear it when we cast all our care on him who careth for us. Take but a thorn out of this crown and use it as a lancet and it will let out the hot blood of passion and abate the fever of pride. It is a wonderful remedy for swelling flesh and grievous boils of sin. He who sees Jesus crowned with thorns will loathe to look upon self, except it be though tears of contrition.

No evil can happen to me, seeming ill is but another form of benediction. If all events shall aid me, what matters in what dress they come, whether of scarlet and fine linen, or sackcloth and ashes … the bitter is sweet and medicine is food. Courage, ye shall meet naught but friends between this and the pearly gates, or if you meet an enemy it will be a conquered one … the winds which toss the waves of the Atlantic of your life are all sure to waft your ship safely into the desired haven. Every wind that rises, whether soft or fierce, is a divine monsoon hurrying in the same direction as your soul’s desires. … God walks in the tempest and rules the storm.’

Spurgeon’s first words at the Tabernacle were these:

‘I would propose that the subject of the Ministry in this house, as long as this platform shall stand, and as long as this house shall be frequented by worshippers, shall be the person of Jesus Christ. I am never ashamed to avow myself a Calvinist; I do not hesitate to take the name of Baptist; but if I am asked what is my creed, I reply, “It is Jesus Christ.” My venerated predecessor, Dr. Gill, has left a Body of Divinity, admirable and excellent in its way; but the Body of Divinity to which I would pin and bind myself for ever, God helping me, is not his system, or any other human treatise; but Christ Jesus, who is the sum and substance of the gospel, who is in himself all theology, the incarnation of every precious truth, the all-glorious personal embodiment of the way, the truth, and the life.’

And now his last words just before his death:

‘If you wear the livery of Christ, you will find him so meek and lowly of heart that you will find rest unto your souls. He is the most magnanimous of captains. There never was his like among the choicest of princes. He is always to be found in the thickest part of the battle. When the wind blows cold he always takes the bleak side of the hill. The heaviest end of the Cross lies ever on his shoulders. If he bids us carry a burden, he carries it also. If there is anything that is gracious, generous, kind and tender, yea, lavish and superabundant in love, you will always find it in him. His service is life, peace, joy. Oh, that you would enter on it at once! God help you to enlist under the banner of Jesus Christ.’

Recommended is the two-volume autobiography The Early Years (Volume 1); and The Full Harvest (Volume 2). —Available from Koorong bookstore.

* This article is an extract from Dr. Ford’s recent book, The Coming Worldwide Calvary: Christ verses Antichrist (2009), pp. 137 140.

The Gospel Of John — Part 20

—Ritchie Way

Jesus and Pilate

In AD26 Tiberius Caesar appointed Pontius Pilate as Praefectus civiatium (governor) of Samaria, Judea, and old Idumea. Pilate was to be responsible for the collection of taxes for Rome; the general administration of the province, the supervision of all large scale building projects, judicial matters and the maintenance of law and order—for which he had three thousand soldiers.

At the time of the Jewish Passover in AD30 Pilate faced the greatest test of his ten year administration. While his official residence and base of operation was in the coastal city of Caesarea Maritima, on this occasion he had come to Jerusalem to ensure that law and order prevailed during the festival. There were radical Jews intent on expelling their Roman overlords from Israel, and he wanted to be on the scene to nip such aspirations in the bud should they manifest themselves. One such terrorist, Barabbas, was already in custody awaiting execution (John 18:40b). With such a large gathering of Jews for this festival it was important that no aspiring ‘messiah’ got the opportunity to arouse the masses to revolt against Rome.

Early on Friday morning Pilate was roused from sleep by his aide who advised him that a delegation of Jews had come to see him and were waiting outside the palace. They brought with them a prisoner whom they had handed over to the praetorian guard.

The waiting delegation refused to come into Pilate’s palace to speak with him, because they believed they would be defiled by entering the residence of a non-Jew and such defilement would exclude them from taking part in the Passover (John 18:28). So Pilate dressed and went out to speak with them.

‘What charges are you bringing against this man?’ Pilate asked. The spokesman for the delegation, trying to avoid an official inquiry into their questionable accusations against Jesus, replied elusively: ‘If he were not a criminal we would not have handed him over to you’. Pilate, knowing that ‘it was out of envy that they had handed Jesus over to him’ (Matt. 27:18), retorted, ‘Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law’ (John 18:31).

This put the Jews on the spot because they did not have the authority to execute anyone—for something as serious as an execution, they would have to have a watertight case. They had decided that if it came to a show-down they would play on Pilate’s fears. ‘He opposes payment of taxes to Caesar and claims to be Christ, a king,’ they said (Luke 23:2).

Pilate went back inside the palace and ordered the guards to bring Jesus to him. They opened Jesus’ cell and took him to the procurator.

‘Are you the king of the Jews?’ Pilate asked. Jesus answered, ‘My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place’ (John 18:36).

Pilate found Jesus’ answer disconcerting. While Jesus admitted to being a king, he did not claim any territory as his own, nor were his followers fighting men. This was not the way of revolutionaries.

Pilate, unable to fathom Jesus’ explanation, focused on his admission: ‘You are a king then!’ he exclaimed.

‘Yes, I am a king,’ Jesus answered. ‘In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world—to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.’

Pilate was caught between the lies of the Sanhedrin and the truth of Jesus—the truth that would save him if he really wanted it. Instead, he brushed aside Jesus’ words with a statement that indicated he did not believe in absolute truth. ‘What is truth?’ he snorted as he spun on his heels and went out to the Jews. ‘I find no basis for a charge against him,’ he told them.

It was at this point that Pilate miscalculated the temper of the crowd. Earlier that week they had been hailing Jesus as the Messiah, but he did nothing to free them from the Romans. Nothing! And now this so-called ‘Messiah’ appeared to be impotent in the hands of their enemy—Rome.

It was a custom of the Romans to release a prisoner at a high festival, so when Pilate foolishly gave the crowd a choice between Barabbas, the insurrectionist and resistance fighter, and Jesus, the crowd roared out for their champion of a free Israel, Barabbas (John 18:40a). It wasn’t the Prince of Peace they wanted, but the man of war. And they got what they wanted.

Barabbas is an Aramaic word meaning ‘son of the father.’ The Jews chose the earthly son of an earthly father in preference to the heavenly Son of the heavenly Father. In choosing the earthly over the heavenly, they set themselves up to receive the rewards of the earthly rather than the heavenly.

We think they’re fools for making such a choice, but we too fall into the same temptation. How many times do we choose earthly delights over the heavenly? How many times do we invest our money for earthly treasure rather than the heavenly? And aren’t we also guilty of committing ourselves to upholding earthly traditions rather than heavenly truth?

Pilate, still looking for a way to release Jesus, decided to have him flogged, hoping that such a terrible punishment would appease the baying crowd. Scourging, a prerequisite for crucifixion, was so awful than many victims did not survive it. The sight of a brutalised innocent man should be enough to win their sympathy and obtain their satisfaction.

After the scourging Pilate paraded Jesus with his back bloodied and shredded, before the Jews and declared, ‘Behold the man! I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no basis for a charge against him’.

As soon as the chief priests and officials saw Jesus they shouted, ‘Crucify! Crucify!’ They knew they had Pilate on the back foot. If he believed that Jesus was innocent, why did he have him scourged? He hadn’t been strong enough to draw a line at ‘No guilt, therefore no punishment’, so now they would press him to move that line even further backward to include capital punishment.

The Jews insisted that Jesus had to die because ‘he claimed to be the Son of God’. This news scared Pilate witless, because in pagan mythology some of the gods, such as Hercules, often appeared among people working miracles. If Jesus really was a divine being Pilate did not want to be responsible for mistreating him. The consequences wouldn’t bear thinking about.

Pilate went back inside the palace to question Jesus further. ‘Where do you come from’, he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer.

Insulted by Jesus’ silence Pilate asked angrily, ‘Do you refuse to speak to me? Don’t you realise that I have power either to free you or to crucify you?’

Jesus answered, ‘You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of the greater sin’ (John 19:7-11).

The Jews were guilty, not only of envy and injustice, but also of deliberate blindness. The Lord came to his own, but his own did not receive him (John 1:11). There was nothing further that God could do for the Jews; they were in the process of rejecting his greatest revelation of himself.

‘From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jews kept shouting, “If you let this man go you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.’”

Pilate knew that if he released Jesus the Jews would send a delegation to Rome, and with his past history, he would in all probability get the sack. So he chose to crucify Christ to save himself.

Actor Mel Gibson, once said, ‘You better decide whether you’re hanging on the cross or banging in the nails.’ Pilate wasn’t about to crucify himself so he elected to crucify Christ instead.

Each of us finds him/herself in Pilate’s shoes at one time or another—the place where we have to choose between Jesus and self. We can crucify guilty self in order to save innocent Jesus, or crucify innocent Jesus in order to save guilty self. The choice is ours and the choice can determine our destiny.

Pilate went to the judge’s seat—the place where he would pronounce judgement on Jesus. Just as he sat down, his aide came in with a message from his wife, Claudia Procula. She said, ‘Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him’ (Matt. 27:19).

People in biblical times laid great store by their dreams, and it was through Claudia’s dream that God made his final appeal to Pilate. But the cries of the crowd, goaded on by the chief priests and the elders, overrode Pilate’s legitimate concerns for Jesus. ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ they shouted, louder and louder (Matt. 27:24).

Pilate, cowered by the uproar that was starting—the very thing he was anxious to prevent—took some water and washed his hands. ‘I am innocent of this man’s blood!’ he shouted. ‘It’s your responsibility!’ By this means he sought to assuage his guilty conscience. But it takes more than water to wash away sin. That can only be accomplished by the blood of Jesus.

All the people answered, ‘Let his blood be on us and on our children!’ And it came to pass as they requested. In AD 70 the Roman ‘beast’ turned on the Jewish ‘prostitute’ and ate her flesh and burned her with fire (Rev. 17:16).

Finally Pilate handed Jesus over to the Jews to be crucified. Commenting upon Pilate’s decision, the 1st century Roman historian, Comelius Tacitus, wrote:

‘Christus … suffered the extreme penalty during the reign of Tiberius at the hands of one of our procurators, Pontius Pilatus.’

Passionate Faith

‘Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold’ —(Matt. 24:12).

—Ron Allen*

It is characteristic of Australians that they have an irrational fear of emotion in religion. This, even though they habitually let themselves go at basketball games. Our greatest fear of emotional display comes to the surface where issues of meaning and belief present themselves. For example, I have yet to see a large crowd of Australians offer a heartfelt rendering of the National Anthem. I have also noticed that men, in particular, are awfully uncomfortable at funerals. They are afraid to be seen with tears.

How is it that, in matters of deep consequence, we will not permit ourselves much enthusiasm? It is the charismatic sector of the Church that has pointed out this anomaly. They have demonstrated that it is entirely appropriate to ‘show’ deep feelings in things of faith.

Do we wish to separate gusto from religion, because being passionate declares to onlookers that we have staked our all on the things we care about so deeply? Are we afraid that our zeal may yet embarrass us; that our cause may fail; that faith may not translate into sight? Do we not want it known just how deeply our convictions go?

To display enthusiasm is to advertise one’s affections, values and hopes. This takes courage! Detachment is less risky. Attachment brings vulnerability. A life without intensity may be relatively safe— safe in the sense that you can’t die unless you are first alive. There can never be new life without urgency and desire. No babies are born without passion. Poetry is not produced without rapture or ardour. Great music does not come without arousal. Feelings are what lift us from bland, innocuous existence into a life of warmth and colour. The best insights in life are the result of involvement. If I would truly know someone, I need to be involved in that person’s life. The woman who loves her man knows aspects of his personality that are hidden from others who do not care as she does.

It was Peter’s spirited affection for Jesus that enabled him to ‘see’ at last who Jesus really was. Christ never invited the disciples to a scholarly investigation of his person. He asked them to follow him. It was in the intimacy of his fellowship that they discerned him. A Christian is a very ‘uncool’ individual who has fallen head-over-heels in love with Christ, and doesn’t care who knows it. This is not cold detachment—this is a relationship; robust, heated, extravagant!

The love of God is the greatest thing in the world. Yet we can let it grow cold in us. For this reason we need to meet regularly, to keep love warm. How inspiring it is to see a man and a woman, married for many years, who still cannot stop thinking about each other; who, instead of being jaded by years of living together, have maintained the glow. Their faces light up each time they see each other. So it should be with Christians and their Lord.

* This is an extract from Ron Allen’s book, From Me to You, Volume One

George Whitefield (1714-1770)

—Desmond Ford*

This man, who preached with only brief intermissions in Britain and America for the most of forty years, was perhaps the greatest preacher of all time. So say many who have studied his life and work.

‘As an orator there has scarcely ever been his equal. His voice was not only powerful, but beautifully modulated and under perfect control … It had a most moving and melting quality that none could resist and , which was the envy of the famous actor, David Garrick. … [and] could pull out all the stops of the entire gamut of the human emotions.’ (Arnold A Dallimore, George Whitefield: The Life and Times of the Great Evangelist of the Eighteenth Century Revival, Vol 1, 1970, p ix)

Whitefield was possibly the most loving and lovable proclaimer of grace ever known. He pioneered open-air preaching. ‘From the age of twentytwo till his death, he was the foremost figure of the immense religious movement that held the attention of multitudes on both sides of the Atlantic’ (Dallimore). But he wore himself out by the age of fifty-five after setting afoot influences which would never end. Said Cowper of him:

‘He followed Paul—his zeal a kindred flame, his apostolic charity the same.’

Between 1730 and 1740 the life of England was foul with moral corruption and crippled by spiritual decay” (Dallimore), yet it was at such a time that God called forth the Wesley brothers and Whitefield to stir and cleanse the nation. Historian J. R. Green has written of this time:

‘A religious revival burst forth … which changed in a few years the whole temper of English society. The Church was restored to life and activity. Religion carried to the hearts of the people a fresh spirit of moral zeal, while it purified our literature and our manners. A new philanthropy reformed our prisons, infused clemency and wisdom into our penal laws, abolished the slave trade, and gave the first impulse to popular education’ (Cited by Arnold Dallimore, George Whitefield, p. 32).

Whitefield’s ancestry was clerical, educated and cultured, but he himself spent his early years serving in the best-known hostelry in Gloucester as a tapster, cleaning and mopping. His father died at the age of thirty-five, and his mother’s later marriage was a failure. The new husband turned out to be a drunkard, and after six years the couple separated. These were the most formative years of the life of George. No wonder he fell into the typical vices of youth, but these years were interspersed with devotion to religion. At times he played ‘church’ with himself the preacher. While he stole money from his mother, some of it purchased books of piety, and some of it he gave to the poor. He told his sister that he was convinced God had a special work for him to do.

At St. Mary’s school he became acquainted with ‘a set of debauched, abandoned, atheistical youths and was soon in a fairway of being as infamous as the worst of them.’ So says his Journal. But then we read:

‘Oh, stupendous love! God even here stopped me, when running on in a full career to hell! For, just as I was upon the brink of ruin, he gave me a distaste of their principles and practices. … I began now to be more and more watchful over my thoughts, words and actions.’ From his seventeenth year to his dying day, Whitefield lived among embittered enemies and jealous friends, without a stain on his reputation (pp. 57-58).

At eighteen he went to Oxford as a servitor, one who acted as lackey for several well-to-do students. Here Charles Wesley noted his serious demeanour and invited him to breakfast. This was the beginning of a friendship which would have tremendous consequences for Whitefield and the world. He joined the Holy Club and was among the foremost in practices of religion and philanthropy.

But God in his providence put in his way a book by Henry Scougal, The Life of God in the Soul of Man. It pointed out that true religion was a union of the soul with God and a consequent transformed nature. Whitefield wrote: ‘I knew I must be born again, or be damned.’

Then began a series of austerities that almost killed him. He prayed for hours on the ground, or upon his knees, beneath the great trees of the University, and fasted recurringly. Giving up the eating of fruit, he gave the money to the poor. He chose apparel that was patched and shoes that were scuffed. Soon he was so weak he could hardly ascend the stairs to his room and was forced to tell his kind tutor of his condition. A physician was sent for and he was sentenced to bed-rest for seven weeks. During that time he did not cease to pray for the new birth he now believed to be essential.

God put it into his mind that when Jesus prayed, ‘I thirst,’ his sufferings were complete. George cried out again and again, ‘I thirst,’ and God came to him in power. He knew that he was now a ‘new creation,’ and rejoicing began which never ceased until his death nearly forty years later. Whenever in later years he returned to Oxford, he always sought out the spot where he knew God had come to him in mercy.

Returning to Gloucester in order to save his health, he now spent hours daily on his knees with his English Bible, his Greek New Testament, and the Bible Commentary by Matthew Henry before him. Much of what he prayed over, line by line, became indelibly inscribed on his heart and mind for the rest of his life. From this storehouse he constantly drew when later he preached forty hours per week.

It was falsely reported that at his first sermon he had driven fifteen people mad. The presiding Bishop expressed the hope that many more would thus be driven to extremity. Justification by faith and its accompanying new birth was Whitefield s great theme, and multitudes responded.

The very day he set off for Georgia in America in response to a call from the Wesley brothers there, John Wesley returned to England, a broken-hearted failure. Whitefield’s congregations wept as he bid them farewell. After a year’s ministry in Georgia he returned to England to find the church doors closed against him. So he took to the fields and, at times, twenty thousand or more came to listen. He made fourteen preaching tours of Scotland, and returned seven times to America. Frequently he delivered twenty sermons in one week.

Whitefield believed in Calvin’s predestination, and here he and Wesley differed, but the funeral service Wesley took for George, was one of unparalleled affection and respect. Other preachers may have been more learned, but none were more eloquent and moving than this former hostelry tapster who found the gospel of justification by faith and took it to the world.

* This article is an extract from Dr. Ford’s recent book, The Coming Worldwide Calvary: Christ verses Antichrist (2009), pp. 134 137.

‘No-one Born of God Sins’

—Santo Calarco

In his first epistle John seems to make conflicting statements about the believer’s relationship to sin. On the one hand he categorically states that those born of God cannot sin. In fact he says that whoever sins is of the devil (1 John 3:6, 8-9). On the other hand John candidly admits that believers do sin (1 John 1:7; 2:1). So which is it?

When we take the historical background of 1 John into account you will see that these apparently contradictory statements can be harmonised.

Most of the letters of the New Testament are written by the apostles in response to concerns, doctrinal error, or false teachings by certain groups of people. This being so, the writings of the New Testament are best interpreted when the spiritual condition of the original audience is understood. We know this is true of the first epistle of John since John himself declares, ‘I am writing these things to you about those who are trying to lead you astray’ (1 John 2:26). This means that any attempt to understand what John says about sin in the believer must take into account an analysis of the false teaching John was countering. So what was the historical background of this letter and how is this relevant to what we are considering about sin?

It is generally agreed that John wrote this letter to the churches in the region of Ephesus about 100 AD. The churches there were then in their second or even third generation. The apostles’ teachings were threatened by false teachers who had infiltrated the believers. One of the major reasons John penned his letter was to expose and correct the heresy of these false teachers (1 John 2:26). John refers to their teachings as deceitful (2:26; 3:7) and to the teachers as false prophets, liars and Antichrists.1 Although these false teachers were once in the church they were never really part of the church and had now left to spread their dangerous teachings.2

Gnosticism was the basic false teaching that was infiltrating the churches John was writing to. The word ‘Gnostic’ comes from the Greek word gnosis, ‘to know’3 and these false teachers maintained that they had special ‘knowledge’ about God and as such belonged to the enlightened ones.4 G.E. Ladd, commenting on the heresy that John was facing in his first epistle says, ‘We know from patristic literature [early church fathers] that an early form of gnosticism was docetism. The gnostic docetics held to the typical Greek contrast between spirit and matter.’5

The word ‘Docetism’ comes from the Greek word dokeo which means ‘to seem’. These particular Gnostic-docetic teachers, who claimed to ‘know’ special spiritual truths, taught that Jesus only ‘seemed’ to have a body. It was maintained that since matter was evil it was absurd and inconceivable to believe that God, who is spirit, should take on a material evil body. The false teachers were teaching the believers to whom John wrote, that Jesus was more like a phantom—he did not have a real physical body. This teaching denied the Incarnation of Christ. As far as John was concerned this was the very teaching of Antichrist since it threatened the teaching of salvation.6 Jesus had to have a physical body in order to be a true substitute for man on the cross.7

G.E. Ladd says that these false teachers ‘claimed to have attained a state beyond ordinary Christian morality in which they had no more sin’ (1:8-10).8

John launches out in the very first chapter and declares that claiming to be in the light and in fellowship with God is okay provided one also walks in the light and not in darkness. He says, ‘If we say that we have fellowship with God [who is light] and walk in darkness, we lie and do not practise the truth’ (1 John 1:5-6).9 Darkness for John is not just a philosophical concept as the Gnostics taught; darkness is altogether ethical.10 They claimed to be in the light and yet practised darkness. ‘He who says he is in the light [as the Gnostics taught] and hates his brother, is in darkness until now … He who hates his brother is in darkness and walks in darkness …   He who does not love his brother abides in death. Whoever hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him’ (1 John 2:9, 11; 3:14-15). In other words, if one holds to the Gnostic teaching and claims to be in the light and yet hates his brother—such a person does not have eternal life abiding in him; he is lost!

These are the verses that surround John’s dogmatic statements about people not sinning. They form the context from which we are to understand the passage under consideration. This means that what John says about sin in 1 John 3:6-9 is set in the specific context of the false teachers. Right in the middle of this passage we are given a strong interpretative clue, in verse 7 he says, ‘Dear children, do not let anyone lead you astray.’ Compare this statement with 1 John 2:26 where he says similarly, ‘I am writing these things to you about those who are trying to lead you astray’. This means that what John says in verses 6-9 should be understood specifically within the context of the heresy described within the book as a whole. John is dealing with a specific type of sinning connected to a very dangerous false teaching. This means then that he is not addressing general sin in believers. This he addresses in chapter 2, which we will examine shortly.

As we compare what John says about sin in these two passages it becomes evident that he is distinguishing between two different types of sinning. In verse 9 of chapter 3 he says those who are born of God ‘cannot sin’. Yet in verse 1 of chapter 2 he says that believers can, and do, sin: ‘My little children … if anyone does sin he has One who speaks to the Father in our defence’. First he says that those born of God cannot sin and then says that those born of God can, and do, sin! These passages are easily reconciled when we realise that John is talking about sin in two different groups—sin in believers and sin in false teachers.

When speaking about the sin of the false teachers he can say that if they maintain that they cannot sin, that they have never sinned, that Jesus never came in the flesh, and yet at the same time are guilty of committing heinous sin by hating the brethren—then these folk have never been born of God—they are in fact of the devil. In other words, the sin John is decrying is connected to this particular false teaching. If these socalled believers and teachers were really born of God, they would not claim to be sinless whilst simultaneously hating their brothers without remorse or repentance!

Their false teaching had led them to a false understanding of sin. John says that people can sin whilst walking in the light, or they can sin whilst walking in the darkness of a false teaching and practice. The former have their sins continuously washed by the blood of Jesus; the latter need to confess and come to repentance and eternal life (1 John 1:7 cf. 1:8-9).

This means that 1 John 3:9 only applies to you if you fulfil all the criteria that John was addressing. In other words, you must deny that Jesus came in the flesh; you must also believe that the sin you commit in your body, such as hating your brother, does not count because what matters with God is your spirit. If this is you, then 1 John 3:9 applies to you and you need to obey what John says in 1:8-9.

However, if this is not you, then you are only faced with good news. Whilst you walk with Jesus, his blood continues to keep you clean from all sin (1 John 1:7). If, however, you do sin, you need never fret, because Jesus your advocate defends all repentant sinners. ‘My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin we have One who speaks to the Father in our defence—Jesus Christ the Righteous One.’ What joy of joys! When the one walking with Jesus sins he need not fear condemnation, because Jesus is not there to condemn him but to save him.

Endnotes:

  1. 1 John 4:1; 2:22; 2:18, 22; 4:3
  2. 1 John 2:19; 4:1
  3. We use the word today in a similar but contrasting way. An agnostic is someone who claims that they ‘don’t know’ if God exists or not.
  4. G. E. Ladd, A Theology of the New Testament, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974) p. 609.
  5. Ibid, p. 609-10.
  6. 1 John 2:26 cf. 4:1-3.
  7. Against this background we gain a fuller appreciation of the opening verses of the epistle. John’s references to personally testifying to ‘hearing, seeing and hands having handled’ Jesus in verses 1-3 are a direct rebuttal against the false teachers who taught that Jesus did not have a real body.
  8. Ladd, Ibid p. 609.
  9. The false teachers who walk in darkness are in fact lost and that most of what is said in chapter 1 is directed towards them and not believers—in fact John does not speak directly to believers till the beginning of chapter 2!
  10. Ladd, Ibid p. 612

The Gospel Of John — Part 19

—Ritchie Way

Two Types of Treachery

The commander of the detachment of soldiers sent out to capture Jesus, arrested him in Gethsemane and took him to the home of Annas, who was the father-in-law of the high priest Caiaphas (John 18:12-14). Annas had served as high priest from AD 6 to 15, and even though he was no longer high priest, he was still ‘the power behind the throne’(see Luke 3:2; Acts 4:6). After establishing the protocols for Jesus’ trial Annas sent Jesus off to Caiaphas.

All houses of substance in Jerusalem were enclosed by high walls—and still are. A substantial gate led into a courtyard. Jesus was taken into this courtyard and those known to the high priest were also permitted to enter. The apostle John who was known to the high priest, possibly because of a family relationship, was allowed entry. Peter, however, not being known to the household, was denied entry. When John noticed that Peter hadn’t come in he went to the gate and gave his word to the gate-keeper that Peter was his friend and could be trusted.

Where were the other nine disciples? The Bible says, ‘They forsook Jesus and fled’. They were afraid that the punishment about to be meted out to Jesus would be apportioned to them also. They were well aware of the fact that the Romans did not treat lightly anyone who challenged the state authority. They crucified all who dared to contest the political status quo, and when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey—as Zechariah said the Messiah/King would do (Zech. 9:9), and was acknowledged as the Messiah by the people who strewed his path with garments (John 12:13-15)—that was a blatant act of suicide.

At the time the disciples didn’t see it that way because they believed Jesus would use his power to set up his kingdom in the city, and were mystified and perplexed when he didn’t. It seemed to them that when Jesus was arrested his power had run out, and, without his protection they were very vulnerable—so they took off. A soldier grabbed one of them by his garment, but he escaped by slipping out of it and running off naked through the olive grove (Mark 14:51-52). To put it mildly, they were scared witless.

To their credit, John and Peter stuck with Jesus. But as John was bringing Peter into the courtyard, the girl on duty there looked closely at him and said, ‘Aren’t you one of his disciples?’ ‘Not me!’ replied Peter, looking the other way.

Meanwhile the high priest was interrogating Jesus about his teaching. Jesus responded that there was no secret conspiracy to overthrow the authorities and that as he always spoke publicly in synagogues and the temple they should ask those who heard him. One of the officials standing there struck Jesus in the face. ‘Is this the way you answer the high priest?’ he demanded.

Have you been guilty of slapping the Lord in the face? Not with your hand, but with your words. Have you slapped the Lord in the face with an accusation that he is guilty of taking away your happiness? Your spouse? Your child? Your health? Your savings? Your whatever?

‘If I said something wrong,’ Jesus replied, ‘say so. But if not, why did you hit me?’ A lot of our responses to Jesus are gut responses and not well thought through. We forget he is the source of all our blessings and accuse him of being the cause of our troubles.

The high priest then asked Jesus if he was the Messiah. When Jesus acknowledged that he was, the high priest declared that he had to die for such blasphemy. The soldiers took Jesus outside, blindfolded him and started punching him in the face and stomach, challenging him to predict who it was that struck him (Mark 14:61-65). Peter, transfixed by what was happening to his Lord, was at a loss to understand why Jesus did not protect himself. If Jesus was helpless before his accusers, what hope did he have? He became even more fearful for his own safety.

Now Jerusalem is about eight hundred metres above sea level and the spring nights at that altitude can be quite cool. The servants had lit a charcoal fire in the courtyard and people gathered around it to get warm. While Simon Peter was standing there warming himself, he was asked a second time: ‘Aren’t you one of Jesus’ followers? You have a Galilean accent just like him.’ ‘No!’ said Peter. ‘I’ve never personally met the man.’

But a relative of Malchus—the man whose ear Peter had cut off with his sword—looked closely at Peter and said, ‘I’m sure I saw you in the garden with Jesus.’ ‘Will you leave me alone!’ snapped Peter. ‘I tell you, I don’t know this man, and I have no wish to know him. And may there be a curse on me if I am not telling you the truth.’

Just then the rooster up on the wall began to crow and Peter suddenly remembered what Jesus had said to him earlier that evening. ‘Peter, you are not as strong as you think you are. Before the rooster crows tomorrow morning you will deny me three times.’

When Peter heard that rooster he stopped speaking in mid sentence and tears rushed to his eyes. Matthew says, ‘He went outside and wept bitterly’ (26:75). Peter was a broken man; he had let Jesus down ‘big time’.

TREACHERY

There are two basic types of treachery against the kingdom of heaven. The first is pretending you’re a follower of Christ when you’re not; and the second is the opposite, pretending you’re not a follower of Christ when you are. Both examples are portrayed in the eighteenth chapter of John, and both occurred in the greatest crisis that ever faced the disciples.

The first type of traitor is portrayed by Judas kissing Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane (Mark 14:44-45), and the second by Peter denying Jesus in the courtyard of the high priest (John 18).

Let’s look at each of these in detail, because they highlight two of the major problems faced by the church today.

JUDAS

Judas had the necessary qualifications for being one of the twelve disciples. He could have made a very good disciple. The fact that he didn’t was his own choice, not anyone else’s. The story of Judas reveals that he was a man who had more faith in himself than he had in Jesus.

As far as his beliefs went, Judas was no different from any of the other eleven disciples. Like most conservative Jews of their day, they believed that the Messiah would set up his kingdom in the old city of Jerusalem and from there he would rule the world. Judas and the other disciples would be his right-hand men; they would be the members of his cabinet.

Judas, however, was more ambitious than the others. He knew Jesus had the power to become king; it was just that he seemed reluctant to do so. When Jesus had been given the opportunity earlier, he turned it down (John 6:14-15). Judas concluded that Jesus wasn’t pushy enough to get to the top; he wasn’t prepared to trample people underfoot to achieve his goal. So Judas decided to help him. He would back Jesus into a corner so that he would be forced to do something about establishing his government.

Over a period of time Judas had drifted away from Jesus. As the treasurer for Jesus and his disciples, he carried the purse, but every now and then he’d dip into it and help himself (John 12:6). Judas, consequently, never grew in grace; instead of repenting of his actions he always justified them.

The relationship between Judas and Jesus reached a breaking point when Jesus rebuked him for his self-centred criticism of Mary of Bethany (John 12:4-7; Mark 14:10). It was from that point Judas decided that the time had come to force Jesus’ hand. From now on Jesus would be required to follow Judas’s agenda, rather than the other way round.

In the upper room Judas was obliged to decide either for or against Jesus when Jesus offered him a token of his high esteem. Judas had to choose whether to accept or reject Jesus’ love. He chose against Jesus, and Satan entered into him (John 13:27). The Bible says, cryptically, ‘Judas … went out. And it was night’ (John 13:30).

However, when Jesus refused to go along with Judas’s plan to hasten him to an earthly throne, the traitor’s plans turned to custard. The fact that Jesus allowed himself to be mistreated and falsely condemned took Judas by surprise. This was not the Jesus he knew. And when it finally occurred to Judas that Jesus was not going to defend himself against the false accusations raised against him, his future came to a shattering conclusion.

When Judas’s plans for the establishment of a literal kingdom in Jerusalem failed to materialise, there was no sense of personal sorrow for what he had done to Jesus; he was sorry only for himself and his failed ambitions (Matt. 27:3-5; 2 Cor. 7:10). So Judas did what every rejector of God’s grace will ultimately do, he committed spiritual suicide. God will cast no man into hell; those who end their lives in that place will be there because they put themselves there.

APPLICATION

There are many Judases in the Church today; qualified people who consider their own views to be much more important than those of Jesus’. They pretend to be Christians, but they betray the Son of Man with a toxic kiss of deceitful ‘loyalty.’ Someone once said, ‘When a man accepts what he likes from God’s word, and rejects what he doesn’t like, it’s not God’s word that rules his life, but his own heart.’

Not long ago I heard an interview in ‘Spiritual Outlook’ on National Radio with Bryan Bruce. Bruce confidently claimed that the Gospel stories were three generations old by the time they were committed to writing, and by that time they had been added to and exaggerated with many fictitious miracles. ‘And yes, Jesus was a very clever person, but he was certainly not divine and he definitely never rose from the dead.’

In support of his theory, Bruce referred to the Gospel stories about the arrest of Jesus. He pointed out that each of the Gospels has a different report of what happened when Jesus was captured in the Garden of Gethsemane. Mark said, ‘One of those standing near drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear.’ Luke happens to mention that it was his ‘right ear’ that was cut off, and that Jesus healed him. John, the last to write a Gospel, names the servant whose ear was cut off as Malchus.

Bryan Bruce claims this is a good example of how the gospel stories got added to over a period of time. For example, Mark didn’t know the name of the person who cut the ear off the high priest’s servant. A little later, when Luke wrote his Gospel, he garnished the story with the fact that it was the servant’s right ear that had been cut off, and that Jesus performed a miracle to heal the wounded servant. Then John, who wrote many years later, names the servant as Malchus. It’s very strange, smirked Bruce, that Mark, the first person to tell this story, couldn’t remember the servant’s name, but John, who wrote a generation later, could.

I smiled when I heard that because I had just recently served on a Jury for a court case involving a young man who had been nearly killed in an altercation outside an Auckland nightclub. In the Jury Room we drew a sketch of the scene on the whiteboard, adding the details provided by the three witnesses. Witness A gave us some details not provided by Witnesses B or C. Witness B gave some details not provided by witnesses A or C. And witness C gave us some details not provided by witnesses A or B. These combined details enabled us to locate every person involved at the time of the incident, on our sketch. No single witness gave us the full picture, but all together they provided their part of the three-piece jigsaw.

And so it is with the stories of the Gospels.

Peter, who was probably embarrassed by the fact that he was the one who chopped the servant’s ear off, left his name out of the story when dictating his Gospel to Mark.1

Luke, who was a physician, noted that it was the servant’s right ear that had been cut off and that Jesus had healed him.

John was able to provide the name of the servant because he personally knew Malchus due to his relationship with the high priest’s household (John 18:16).

Consider, for a moment, what the critics would have said had the stories of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John been identical; they would have accused the writers of collusion, of working together to deceive their readers. But because the stories have differences, each of the writers is accused of adding his own fictional touches.

Richard Bauckham, professor of New Testament Studies at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland, has written a book called Jesus and the Eyewitnesses (Eerdmans, 2006). In this book he refers to Papias, the bishop of Hieropolis, a city between Colossae and Laodicea. Papias, who was born in AD60, just thirty years after Jesus was crucified, was personally acquainted with the daughters of Philip the evangelist (Acts 21:8-9). This Philip was one of the seven deacons elected by the apostles (Acts 6:16). Papias also knew two of Jesus’ disciples: Ariston and John the Elder.

Papias wrote a five volume work entitled, An Exposition of the Accounts of what Jesus Said and Did. Unfortunately, nothing of those five volumes has survived except in quotes by other writers of his time. From these writers we learn that Papias, in his work, quoted or referred to the Gospels of Mark, Luke and John, which the liberal critics say weren’t written until three generations after Papias’s day. So don’t be too quick to give ear to those who scoff at the reliability of the New Testament records about Jesus.

PETER

Peter, whose treachery was not premeditated, was really upset that he had betrayed Jesus and ‘went outside and wept bitterly’ (Matt. 26:75).

Peter’s focus, unlike Judas’s, was on Jesus rather than on himself, and when his focus strayed for a time, he repented and got it back on the Master. And that was the main difference between Peter and Judas. Because Judas’s focus was continually on himself, when his plans to shock Jesus into accepting the crown of David and making Jerusalem his capital failed, he had nothing left to fall back upon, so went and hung himself.

APPLICATION

Judas pretended he was a Christian when he wasn’t; Peter pretended he wasn’t a Christian when he was. Most of us are ‘Peters’ rather than ‘Judases’—especially when in a crowd of important or imposing non-Christians. We may not try to hide our identity as Christians, but we certainly don’t push it to the front.

Someone once asked, ‘If you were charged with being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?’ Would there?

If you are not honoured to be a Christian—in the same sense that singer, Sir Cliff Richards and awardwinning New Zealand scientist, Dr. Jeff Tallon, are proud to be Christians—you need to ask yourself why:

Is it because you are scared, like Peter?

What would be the worst thing that could happen if you confessed to being a Christian?

Would you be executed? No.
Would you be imprisoned? No.
Would you have your Passport taken from you? No.
Would you be given a big fine? No.

What then? It is usually because you might be laughed at, or ridiculed. And you are not willing to endure that even though Jesus endured the cross for you?

Is it because you don’t know how to respond?

This is probably the most common reason why many people keep their Christianity hidden. They don’t know what to say when identified as Christians.

The secret to handling such occasions is to be prepared beforehand. You could say something like this: ‘I haven’t always been a Christian, but when I wasn’t, I had a big hole in my life that Jesus filled when I accepted him. To be quite honest, I wouldn’t want it to be any other way now.’

Or, ‘I couldn’t live without Jesus in my life. Since I became a follower of Jesus I have something worthwhile to live for, as well as peace and joy in my life that I didn’t have before.’

Sit down and write your testimony in less than forty words; any longer than that and it could put people off. The key is to give them something pithy and memorable to think about.

One evening Rosemary and I had dinner at a food hall in the city before attending a concert by the Auckland Philharmonia. Before eating we bowed our heads and I said, ‘Thank you, Lord, for this good food. We are grateful for it. Amen.’

As we picked up our knives and forks a woman came rushing up to us beaming from ear to ear. ‘Oh, how delightful,’ she gushed. ‘You said grace before eating. I think that’s wonderful! God bless you.’

Don’t hide your light under a barrel; it may brighten the darkness of some needy person, or strengthen the faith of a wavering Christian.

Back in the sixties we stopped our car on a Southland Road to ask directions of a roadman. As we prepared to drive off he said, ‘God bless you.’ That was all, and I’ve never forgotten it. Since then I have followed his example and am continually surprised by the number of people who stop short when they hear those three uplifting words.

Maybe it is because you are embarrassed by the way other Christians act that you don’t want to be identified with them?

If that is the case identify yourself with the One who will never cause you genuine embarrassment. Just tell people that you are a follower of Jesus. After all, that is one thing that identifies the 144,000 (Rev. 14:4). ‘They follow the Lamb wherever he goes.’

Endnote:
1. Mark, who was not one of Jesus’ twelve disciples, had his Gospel dictated to him by Peter.

God and Your Money

—Bob Gass

‘Honour the Lord with your possessions …’ —(Prov. 3:9 NKJV)

To live by the principles of God’s Word and be financially blessed, you must keep three things in mind.

First, remember that God owns everything. Your name may be on the account, but don’t get any wrong ideas: ‘…all things come from you, and out of your own [hand] we have given you’ (1 Chron. 29:14 AMP). The truth is, you’re the executor of God’s will. So when he tells you to give a certain amount don’t say, ‘I’ll think about it and get back to you.’ And don’t try to bargain, for on the other end of every act of obedience there is a blessing waiting. ‘If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land’ (Isa. 1:19 NIV).

Second, remember that God is your source. You don’t have a thing he didn’t give you: ‘Every good gift … is from above, and comes down from the Father’ (James. 1:17 NKJV). It’s okay to enjoy your money, invest your money and share your money, as long as you trust only in ‘the living God, who gives us richly all things to enjoy’ (1 Tim. 6:17 NKJV).

Third, remember that every spending decision is a spiritual decision. Your cheque book will reflect your priorities. So what does yours say? When it came to giving, the Macedonian Christians did it right: ‘They gave not only what they could afford, but far more … their first action was to give themselves to the Lord and to us, just as God wanted them to do’(2 Cor. 8:3-5 NLT). When you give God your heart, you’ll have no trouble giving him anything else.

‘A FOOLISH MAN DEVOURS ALL HE HAS’ —(Prov. 21:20 NIV).

If you want to be a good steward of what God has entrusted to you, do these four things:

First, reduce the debt you carry. Be guided by wisdom, not impulse. Spending less than you earn is the key to financial security. When you’re in debt over your head it pre-commits you and dictates what you can do down the road. What you do today is the only influence you have over tomorrow.

Second, remember, cash is king! Don’t worry about sophisticated investment strategies until you’ve got at least three to six months living expenses in the bank. That way you’re prepared when emergencies arise—and they will. The Bible says, ‘In the house of the wise are stores … but a foolish man devours all he has’ (Prov. 21:20 NIV).

Third, have a long-term financial goal and refer to it regularly. Lion tamers use a stool for control. Why? Because the lion will try to focus on all four legs, and end up confused. Focus on your long-term goal!

Finally, don’t just save, sow: ‘Whoever sows generously will also reap generously’ (2 Cor. 9:6 NIV). True financial freedom comes when giving no longer threatens your sense of security, because you’ve learned that consecutive sowing into God’s kingdom always generates consecutive reaping. The truth is: there’s no better way to live!

‘WHERE YOUR TREASURE IS, THERE YOUR HEART WILL BE ALSO’—(Matt. 6:21 NIV).

The Bible says. ‘Jesus … watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury …’ (Mark 12:41 NIV). Try to answer this question honestly: ‘Would my giving change if Jesus was passing the offering plate and watching me?’ Actually, He does. Each time God asks you to give He observes your obedience, your consistency, and your generosity or the lack of it. He doesn’t measure you by how much you give, but what you have, and what you keep. That’s why Jesus said, ‘Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.’

Now, since every human enterprise is destined to go up in smoke but of God’s kingdom ‘there shall be no end’ (Isa. 9:7 KJV), it’s not hard to figure out where you should invest, right? Yet who among us hasn’t been more excited about a dream home here on earth than an eternal home in heaven? That’s why Jesus keeps challenging our priorities and values. Ever notice how many people rush to endow God’s work on the eve of their departure? Perhaps that’s because we get great perspective from a hearse! ‘Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven’ (Matt. 6:20 NIV). What Jesus is saying to us is, ‘You can’t take it with you: but you can send it on ahead’.

Thank God for benevolent bequests, but don’t you think it would be wiser to ‘do your giving while you’re living’ and experience the double blessing of having your money spread his kingdom while you’re still around to enjoy it? Bottom line, if you want to know what’s really important to you, observe what you do with your money.

John Wesley (1703-1791)

—Desmond Ford*

John Wesley’s beech trees,
Lambeg Co. Down

During one of his visits to Ireland in the late eighteenth century, John Wesley stayed at Chrome Hill. He twisted together two beech saplings as a symbol of the friendship of the Methodist Church and the Church of Ireland, the trees still stand today.

In the century preceding the Napoleonic wars religion in England seemed extinct. It was truly a post-Christian age. Christianity came near to its death-swoon, says W. H. Fitchett. It was the Cinderella of the centuries. ‘Soul extinct, stomach well alive’, summarized Carlyle.

Every sixth house in London was a gin shop, and gin seemed to have debauched most of London’s inhabitants, but not London alone. Open revolt against religion and the churches existed in both extremes of English society. The historian, Green, tell us that, ‘the poor were ignorant and brutal to a degree impossible now to realise; the rich linked a foulness of life now happily almost inconceivable.’ Judges swore on the bench, and naval chaplains during their sermons. The King and his court were profane to such an extent it was as though they had no other vocabulary. Not only parents, but children, were rendered without ability or hope, because of drunkenness.

Then came the revolution—not one like that of France with its Reign of Terror, but a revolution in religion and morals. Three men found the gospel and changed their world—John and Charles Wesley and George Whitefield. Why are religious people in general, even religious leaders, so slow to accept God’s good news? Because every man, regardless of his church affiliation, or lack of it, is at heart a Pharisee. He believes he can establish his own righteousness, and then God will love him. A close study of the diary of John Wesley shows the spiritual pilgrimage of many.

Note his biographer’s comment:

‘He had sat at the feet of many instructors and had read many books. He had been a sacerdotalist, an ascetic, a mystic, a legalist, all in turn, nay, all together! And yet, through all these stages, he had persistently misread the true order of the spiritual world. He believed that a changed life was not the fruit of forgiveness, but its cause. Good works, he held, came before forgiveness and constituted the title to it; they did not come after it and represent its effects. He had, in every mood of his soul missed the great secret of Christianity, lying so near, and level to the intelligence of a child; the secret of a personal salvation, the free gift of God’s infinite love through Christ; salvation received through Christ and by faith; a salvation attested by the Spirit of God and verified in the consciousness.’ (W. H. Fitchett, Wesley and His Century, p. 128).

What had Fitchett read in Wesley’s diary, which revealed the secret of that spiritual giant’s original poverty, and ours? Note the following extracts:

‘[As a child] I was carefully taught that I could only be saved by universal obedience; by keeping all the commandments of God; in the meaning of which I was diligently instructed … but all that was said to me of inward obedience, or holiness, I neither understood nor remembered. So that I was indeed as ignorant of the true meaning of the law as I was of the gospel of Christ.’

‘[As a schoolboy] And what I now hoped to be saved by was: (1) Not being so bad as other people; (2) having still a kindness for religion; (3) reading the Bible, going to church, and saying my prayers.’

‘[In later years before conversion] And by my continued endeavour to keep his whole law, inward and outward, to the utmost of my power, I was persuaded that I should be accepted of him, and thought I was even then in a state of salvation.’

‘[After failure as a missionary] I was strongly convinced that the cause of my uneasiness was unbelief, and that the gaining of a true, living faith was the “one thing needful” for me. But still I fixed not this faith on its right object; I meant only faith in God, not faith in or through Christ. I knew not that I was wholly devoid of this faith, but only thought I had not enough of it.’

Wesley’s mother, Susannah, may have been the most capable woman in England, and the prettiest. She was the twenty-fifth child of Dr. Annesley, and after her marriage brought nineteen children of her own into the world. Her husband Samuel did not have his wife’s uncommon sense, though there can be no doubting the integrity of his faith and life. Susannah knew Greek, Latin and French, and was able to hold her own in any religious controversy. She possessed multifarious talents and virtues, but she did not know the gospel. As religious as she was, as conscientious as she was, as faithful as she was in even that which was least, she lacked the joy of Christian assurance— because the New Testament gospel was still a sealed book to her. Because a child rarely exceeds the religion of its mother, her famous son toiled in spiritual chains until he was thirty-five years of age.

When John was only six-years-old the rectory took fire, perhaps because of unhappy parishioners who thought little of damaging the property of their parson. A tiny face was seen through the window of the upper storey—behind that tiny figure was a wall about to collapse. One farmer stood by the wall of the burning house and invited another to mount his shoulders. So they rescued the endangered lad, and ever afterwards he thought of himself as ‘a brand plucked from the burning’.

At Oxford University, many years later, John became the leading figure of The Holy Club—a group of intelligent, educated and devout men of the university. They were punctilious in all known duties, prayer, fasting, church services and ministry to the poor. But one thing they lacked—the gospel.

After his ordination and early service beside his father, Wesley went to America. He wrote in his dairy that he was going there to convert the Indians and then he added, ‘But who will convert me?’ En route, a great storm threatened to send his ship to the bottom, but a group of Moravian pilgrims sang on, apparently unperturbed. He never forgot the incident and it encouraged him to fellowship with the Moravians back in England. Through that association (after his absolute failure as a missionary) he found himself one evening listening to a reader of Luther’s Epistle to the Romans. In his diary Wesley tells us what happened:

‘About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change that God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation; and an assurance was given me that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.’

This was the moment that would result in the transformation of England. According to historian, Lecky, the event of that hour was more important for England than all her famous victories by land and sea. At approximately the same time his brother Charles was converted, and on meeting, they sang a hymn with great joy and parted with prayer.

Often we use the expression, ‘It is too good to be true’, but in the case of the gospel: ‘It is so good it must be true’. Note this well, what argument cannot accomplish, the Spirit of God can. Millions of Christians can testify that their conversion came by a movement of the Spirit upon them, convincing them of the love of God and the glorious truth that salvation is free. Wesley, the learned reverend minister of the church, who knew not the gospel, received it in a flash from God himself. And so it has been and will continue to be with millions. We cannot hammer a rosebud open, and we cannot argue a person into believing in the love of God. But God can love us into loving him. And that is exactly what he does.

Later, the converted can think on the fact that the good news is such that no one could have invented it. It has to be from God. Who can read the words of Luke 15, ‘When he (the prodigal) was yet a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him’ (verse 20), without sensing that only God could have told that story about such forgiving love. The Bible is self-authenticating to all who have an honest desire to know and do the will of God (John 7:17). As the days go by in the Christian life, the believer is more and more convinced that such a wonderful plan as that of redemption had its origin only in a divine heart.

Marvel at the manner in which the gospel reconciles mercy and justice, and thereby God and man. It would not have been enough for any of us to be merely forgiven. We want to know that our forgiveness is just, that mercy and justice have been reconciled by the intervening act of God on Calvary.

Think how marvellous is the fundamental truth of the Trinity—God over us, God for us and God in us. The Son executes the Father’s plans, but the Spirit applies his saving work to the hungry soul. Then we sense that ‘only one subject should prevail in Christian conversation, and that it should swallow up every other, for it is the sweetest melody from human lips— Christ our Righteousness.’ Surely this is the most amazing truth under heaven, that God should devise a plan whereby he might justify the ungodly.

Tell the world: ‘You don’t have to be good to be saved; you have to be saved to be good.’ ‘It’s not who you are, but whose you are.’ ‘Whosoever will may come,’ and Christ has promised: ‘Him that comes to me I will in no wise cast out.’ Who would invent such words as found in Matthew 12:31: ‘All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men.’?

Wesley went forth from the night meeting at Aldersgate Street to open more tollgates than any man in England. He would travel about 4,000 miles a year [about 6,500 klm] (250,000 miles over his lifetime [about 400,000 klm]—all by horseback until he reached his seventies). Ultimately, his sermons reached the figure of over 44,200. Whitefield’s reached 18,000, but his life was over thirty years shorter than Wesley’s.

What sort of man was Wesley? He was physically diminutive, but compact and sturdy. He was humble but dignified; supremely intelligent, but bowing with tender regard to every member of the human family. He was a God-intoxicated proclaimer of the good news, and neither threats nor illness, nor the peculiarities of nature could hinder him. He personified faith, hope and love. All sensed that here was a truly happy man, not swayed by any untoward circumstance, but rejoicing in the benign sovereignty of God, his friend. Yet Wesley could write to his brother Charles to say that he did not love God as he should.

He was the best-known figure in the land during the last half of the eighteenth century:

‘[He had] a calm intensity of energy, which has been rarely paralleled in any generation. In range, speed, intensity and effectiveness, Wesley must always remain one of the greatest workers known to mankind. He seemed to live many lives in one, and each life was of amazing fullness. He preached more sermons, travelled more miles, published more books, wrote more letters, built more churches, waged more controversies, and influenced more lives than any other man in English history. And through it all, as he himself, in a humorous paradox puts it, “he had no time to be in a hurry”’ (Wesley and His Century, p. 431).

He believed his body to be the temple of God, and throughout his long life he studied the laws of health and obeyed them. He almost spanned the eighteenth century. He gave minute health counsels to his associate preachers regarding sleep, exercise, diet and the like. As with many impressive figures before and after him, he saw advantages in vegetarianism.

‘Wesley was exactly that “most formidable and terrible of all combinations,” a practical mystic. His life thrilled with forces which streamed upon him from spiritual realms; and yet he kept his feet on the solid earth and had the keenest vision for the facts of earth … No man ever moved more quickly and none was ever less in a hurry than he. There was something of the inexorable and unhurrying swiftness of a planet about him; and something, too, of its shattering impact. And yet a strange air of repose—the quiet which is born of problems solved and of victory attained—lay upon him …

Wesley had ideals beyond the reach of other men’s vision, but absolutely clear to himself. He trod with an assured step; he spoke as one who knew. He was absolutely emptied of selfishness. So he became for those about him, in a sense, an embodied conscience. Here was one human spirit, at least, utterly given up to divine things; one human soul in which religion had fulfilled all its offices. And with all his radiant cheerfulness, there was something of the un conscious loftiness of Alpine peaks about him;   a remoteness—as though caught from some purer air—from the pursuits and desires of ordinary men. His very face was a rebuke to all mean things …

A sort of perpetual radiance shone in him and streamed from him. … unclouded cheerfulness. Alexander Knox, who knew Wesley well said, … “My acquaintance with him has done more to teach me what a heaven upon earth is implied in the maturity of Christian piety, than I have elsewhere seen or heard or read.” His countenance and conversation expressed an habitual gaiety of heart. Wesley himself declared that, “he had not felt lowness of spirits one quarter-of-an-hour in his life. Ten thousand cares were no more weight to his mind than ten thousand hairs to his head.”…

Dr. Johnson, himself a glutton in talk, complained to Patty Wesley of her brother: “I hate to meet John Wesley,” he said. “The dog enchants you with his conversation and then breaks away to go and visit some old woman.” …

Once, when tempted to linger in a lovely landscape, Wesley cried, “I believe there is an eternity, I must arise and go hence”; and those words express the temper of his life. He lived in the spirit of Andrew Marvel’s strong lines: “Ever at my back I hear Time’s winged chariots hurrying near”’ (Wesley and His Century, pp. 431-434).

‘Few men have ever been more systematically generous than Wesley. He lived with the utmost economy himself, and gave away the whole surplus of his income. “When he had thirty pounds a year, he lived on twenty-eight, and gave away two. The next year, receiving sixty pounds, he still lived on twenty-eight, and gave away two-and-thirty. The third year he received ninety pounds, and gave, away sixty-two. The fourth year he received a hundred and twenty pounds. Still he lived on twenty-eight, and gave to the poor ninetytwo”’ (Ibid., pp. 436-437).

And what did he preach? We quote from a few of his recorded sermons, though the originals were much more lively.

‘What is justification? … It is not the being made actually just and righteous. That is sanctification; which is, indeed, in some degree, the immediate fruit of justification, but, nevertheless, is a distinct gift from God, and of a totally different nature. The one implies what God does for us through his Son; the other, what he works in us by his Spirit …’

‘Justification is the clearing us from the accusation brought against us by the law, …’

‘Who are they that are justified? … the ungodly …’

‘Faith is the necessary condition of justification; yea, and the only necessary condition thereof … the very moment God giveth faith (for it is the gift of God) to the “ungodly” that “worketh not,” that “faith is counted to him for righteousness,” the very moment he believeth’ (‘Justification by Faith’, Sermons, Vol. 1, p. 56 ff.).

‘But in what sense is this righteousness imputed to believers? In this: All believers are forgiven and accepted, not for the sake of anything in them, or of anything that ever was, that is, or ever can be done by them, but wholly and solely for the sake of what Christ hath done and suffered for them. … and this is not only the means of our obtaining the favour of God, but of our continuing therein. It is thus we come to God at first; it is by the same we come unto him ever after. … and this is the doctrine which I have constantly believed and taught, for nearly eight and twenty years. … the righteousness of Christ is imputed to every believer’ (‘The Lord our Righteousness’, Sermons, Vol. 1, p. 238 ff.).

While justification was Wesley’s main theme, he often preached on other topics pertinent to the Christian life. When Fitchett wrote his chapter, ‘The Secret of the Great Revival’, he included these comments upon the matters preached on by Wesley and his helpers:

‘What are evangelical doctrines? A chain of mountain peaks that pierce to the crown of the heavens, and on whose summits brood perpetual sunshine! They constitute a close-knitted succession of truths that break out of eternity and have its scale—truths that relate to sin, and proclaim its measureless guilt, its hurrying and inevitable doom; but which also reveal an immediate and personal deliverance from sin—a deliverance which comes as an act of divine grace, and on the simplest terms of penitential acceptance. But it is no light and easy deliverance, which costs the Deliverer nothing. It is the supreme miracle of the spiritual universe, made possible only by the mystery of Christ’s redemption. It is brought near by the mystery of the Holy Spirit’s grace. It sets the forgiven soul in a personal and rejoicing relationship with a reconciled and loving Father.

A divine redemption; a realised pardon; a restored relationship to God through faith; the entrance of supernatural forces into the life by the grace of the Divine spirit; the present and perfect attainment of God’s ideal in the character. And all this made intelligible and credible by the redeeming work and offices of Jesus Christ—and by the saving energies of the Holy Spirit in the human soul! This is the evangelical version of Christianity!’ (Ibid., p. 171).

* This article is an extract from Dr. Ford’s recent book, The Coming Worldwide Calvary: Christ verses Antichrist (2009), pp. 126-134, available from Good News Unlimited.