In our recent Clarus weekend, on “The Convergence of Doctrine and Delight,” several references were made to the thought of Jonathan Edwards and especially his work, Religious Affections (which you can read online for free, or purchase in hardcopy, or you can start with Sam Storms’ excellent summary of it).

Though less famous, Edwards several works on The Great Awakening (nicely combined in Vol. 4 of the Yale edition of his Works) are perhaps equally important for this theme ‚ especially The Distinguishing Marks of Revival (1741) and Some Thoughts Concerning Revival (1742).

Here are a few exemplary paragraphs from the latter work on the relationship of “light” (truth) and “heat” (affections) for preaching:

One thing that has been complained of, is ministers addressing themselves rather to the affections of their hearers than to their understandings, and striving to raise their passions to the utmost height, rather by a very affectionate manner of speaking and a great appearance of earnestness in voice and gesture, than by clear reasoning and informing their judgment: by which means, it is objected, that the affections are moved without a proportionable enlightening of the understanding.

To which I would say, I am far from thinking that it is not very profitable, for ministers in their preaching, to endeavor clearly and distinctly to explain the doctrines of religion, and unravel the difficulties that attend them, and to confirm them with strength of reason and argumentation, and also to observe some easy and clear method and order in their discourses, for the help of the understanding and memory; and ’tis very probable that these things have been of late, too much neglected by many ministers; yet, I believe that the objection that is made, of affections raised without enlightening the understanding, is in a great measure built on a mistake, and confused notions that some have about the nature and cause of the affections, and the manner in which they depend on the understanding. All affections are raised either by light in the understanding, or by some error and delusion in the understanding; for all affections do certainly arise from some apprehension in the understanding; and that apprehension must either be agreeable to truth, or else be some mistake or delusion; if it be an apprehension or notion that is agreeable to truth, then it is light in the understanding. Therefore the thing to be inquired into is, whether the apprehensions or notions of divine and eternal things, that are raised in people’s minds by these affectionate preachers, whence their affections are excited, be apprehensions that are agreeable to truth, or whether they are mistakes. If the former, then the affections are raised the way they should be, viz. by informing the mind, or conveying light to the understanding. They go away with a wrong notion, that think that those preachers can’t affect their hearers by enlightening their understandings, that don’t do it by such a distinct, and learned handling of the doctrinal points of religion, as depends on human discipline, or the strength of natural reason, and tends to enlarge their hearers’ learning, and speculative knowledge in divinity. The manner of preaching without this, may be such as shall tend very much to set divine and eternal things in a right view, and to give the hearers such ideas and apprehensions of them as are agreeable to truth, and such impressions on their hearts, as are answerable to the real nature of things: and not only the words that are spoken, but the manner of speaking, is one thing that has a great tendency to this.

I think an exceeding affectionate way of preaching about the great things of religion, has in itself no tendency to beget false apprehensions of them; but on the contrary a much greater tendency to beget true apprehensions of them, than a moderate, dull, indifferent way of speaking of ’em. An appearance of affection and earnestness in the manner of delivery, if it be very great indeed, yet if it be agreeable to the nature of the subject, and ben’t beyond a proportion to its importance and worthiness of affection, and there be no appearance of its being feigned or forced, has so much the greater tendency to beget true ideas or apprehensions in the minds of the hearers, of the subject spoken of, and so to enlighten the understanding: and that for this reason, that such a way or manner of speaking of these things does in fact more truly represent them, than a more cold and indifferent way of speaking of them. If the subject be in its own nature worthy of very great affection, then a speaking of it with very great affection is most agreeable to the nature of that subject, or is the truest representation of it, and therefore has most of a tendency to beget true ideas of it in the minds of those to whom the representation is made. And I don’t think ministers are to be blamed for raising the affections of their hearers too high, if that which they are affected with be only that which is worthy of affection, and their affections are not raised beyond a proportion to their importance, or worthiness of affection. I should think myself in the way of my duty to raise the affections of my hearers as high as possibly I can, provided that they are affected with nothing but truth, and with affections that are not disagreeable to the nature of what they are affected with.

Though as I said before, clearness of distinction and illustration, and strength of reason, and a good method, in the doctrinal handling of the truths of religion, is many ways needful and profitable, and not to be neglected, yet an increase in speculative knowledge in divinity is not what is so much needed by our people, as something else. Men may abound in this sort of light and have no heat: how much has there been of this sort of knowledge, in the Christian world, in this age? Was there ever an age wherein strength and penetration of reason, extent of learning, exactness of distinction, correctness of style, and clearness of expression, did so abound? And yet was there ever an age wherein there has been so little sense of the evil of sin, so little love to God, heavenly-mindedness, and holiness of life, among the professors of the true religion? Our people don’t so much need to have their heads stored, as to have their hearts touched; and they stand in the greatest need of that sort of preaching that has the greatest tendency to do this.

– Some Thoughts Concerning Revival, Works of Jonathan Edwards Online, Volume 4, The Great Awakening (Jonathan Edwards Center, Yale University, 2008), pp. 385-388.

The Heidelberg Catechism, Question 45:

Question: How does Christ’s resurrection benefit us?

Answer: First, by his resurrection he has overcome death, so that he might make us share in the righteousness he won for us by his death. Second, by his power we too are already now resurrected to a new life. Third, Christ’s resurrection is a guarantee of our glorious resurrection.

Kevin DeYoung expounds on each of these three benefits.

Last Sunday I preached a sermon from Luke 8:26-56, “Miracles, Belief, and Emotions.” The study of the four miracle stories and the dozen-plus references to varying emotions in this passage was our focus. So time did not permit to address what seems like a contradiction in the chapter:

Why is it that, after one healing, Jesus tells the man to “go and describe what great things God has done for you” (v 39), and, after another healing (actually, a resurrection), Jesus instructs them to “tell no one what has happened” (v 56)?

Well, here is the best and most thorough answer I’ve found in my many Luke commentaries:

The command for silence [in v 56] seems a little odd. This contrasts with the instruction to the Gerasene demoniac in Luke 8:39 and the efforts Jesus went to in having the woman with the hemorrhage relate her healing (8:45-47), not to mention an earlier public resurrection in 7:11-17. It seems clear that Jesus is concerned about what aspects of his ministry receive attention (4:41; 5:14).

Jesus knows that he is headed for a different kind of ministry than people will want from him. Excessive focus on his works of power will undermine the type of commitment he will ask from people. He does not need to be raising people on a daily basis. The type of commitment that will be required of them, should they follow him, is one of suffering, not comfort (9:22, 36, 57-62; 10:17-20). People will talk about his works, but they should not be encouraged to focus on elements that only point to deeper issues. There will come a time when the miracles will go public, but their publicity need not be encouraged since they are not at the heart of what Jesus is doing. Rather they point to more significant spiritual realities (11:14-23).  In Luke, miracles are a testimony to the nature of the times; they are not intended to be the focus of Jesus work (7:22).  Rather, they picture deeper realities that Jesus offered, as Acts 2:22-36 suggests.  The call to silence makes clear that Jesus does not regard such acts as the center of his ministry, but as only the evidentiary periphery.

(Darrell Bock, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament, Luke 1:1-9:50, pp. 804-805.)

In other words, for that time in redemptive history, there is a bit of a razor’s edge to understanding the place of miracles. They verify who this Jesus is and the truth of what he says; they evidence that the Christ and his kingdom have finally come. But, too much attention drawn to the miracles themselves and they could possibly overshadow the very things to which they point. Jesus, in his infinite wisdom, knows exactly when to say “go and tell” and “speak of this to no one.” So v 39 and v 56 are not in contradiction; they represent the complexity of the purpose of miracles in Jesus’ ministry. The difference between the two verses also hints at the sinful temptation to be more focused on and impressed by miracles than the presence of the Christ, the reality of his gospel, and the presence of his glorious kingdom.

Once again, Carl Trueman writes a prophetic, edgy, and spot-on piece for Ref21, this time analyzing the hopeless inconsistency of conservative-but-light, empty, trivial, contemporary Christian worship. You can read the whole article here, but let me note the quote-worthy parts for you:

The service ended, not with a benediction or even a prayer, but with another chance to meditate, this time not to waves crashing on a beach but to a recording of Kenny G playing `Amazing Grace.’

The service was, in many ways, a multifaceted microcosm of a lot that is wrong with the church at large today. I remember sitting in the room and looking around at the earnest faces as they concentrated on the crashing waves, or empathized with the linguistic struggles of the spontaneous inclusive language guy, or were carried heavenward by the mellifluous tone of Mr G’s saxophone.

Ironically, not all conservative services are much better than their liberal equivalents.  Now, the difference is that liberal theology should inevitably lead to liturgical nonsense in a way that orthodoxy should not.  After all, orthodox theology grew out of the worship and liturgy of the ancient church, so it should be no surprise that the collapse of that theology connects to the collapse of worship and liturgy. After all, it is hard to see the musical genius of Kenny G giving birth to the Nicene Creed, or, for that matter, providing an atmosphere in which the same might be sustained.

What are surprising, therefore, are accounts of services where the theology is supposedly orthodox but the content is sheer trivia.  If God is awesome, sovereign and holy; if human beings are small, sinful, and lost; if Christ died and rose again by a most miraculous and costly act of grace, then this should impact the way things happen in church.

A church service involving clowns or fancy dress or skits or stand-up comedy does not reflect the seriousness of the gospel; and those who take the gospel seriously should know better. Frankly, it is more appropriate to liberal theology which does not take the gospel, or the God of the gospel, seriously. Serious things demand serious idioms.  I heard recently of a church service involving dressing up in costume and music taken from a Tom Cruise movie.  Now, if I go for my annual prostate examination, and the doctor comes into the consulting room dressed as Coco the Clown, with `Take my breath away’ from Top Gun playing in the background, guess what?  I’m going to take the doctor out with a left hook, flee the surgery, and probably file a complaint with the appropriate professional body.  This is serious business; and if he looks like a twit and acts like a twit, then I can only conclude that he is a twit.

You can tell a lot about someone’s theology from what they do in church.  Involve Kenny G’s music in your worship service, and I can tell not only that you have no taste in music but also that you have nothing to offer theologically to those who come through the church doors; indeed, what you do have can probably be found better elsewhere.

I’ve made reference on this blog before to the so-called “New Calvinism” movement.

Kevin DeYoung — a young (i.e., younger than me!) pastor in East Lansing, MI and author of this and this and this — has just written a wonderfully wise, clarifying analysis of the New Calvinism for the Christian Research Journal. Here are some highlights of Kevin’s article:

Here are the two most important things you need to know about the rise of the New Calvinism: it’s not new and it’s not about Calvin. Of course, some of the conferences are new. The John Piper packed iPods are new. The neo-reformed blog blitz is new. The ideas, however, are not.  “Please God, don’t let the young, restless, and reformed movement be another historically ignorant, self-absorbed, cooler-than-thou fad.”

And while I’m praying: “Please God, don’t let the New Calvinism ever, ever be about the New Calvinism. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not afraid to be called a Calvinist. I’ve read the Institutes multiple times, most of Calvin’s commentaries, and was voted “Calvin Clone” by my peers at seminary. I thank God for Calvin. But if the New Calvinism is to continue as a work of God, which I think it has been, it must continue to be about God. Young Christians have been drawn to Calvinism not because they were looking for Calvin or an “-ism” but because they were drawn to a vision of a massive, glorious, fall-down-before-Him-as-though-dead kind of God who loves us because He wants to.

The influence of Calvinism is growing because its God is transcendent and its theology is true. In a day when “be better” moralism passes for preaching, self-help banality passes for counseling, and “Jesus is my boyfriend” music passes for worship in some churches, more and more people are finding comfort in a God who is anything but comfortable. The paradox of Calvinism is that we feel better by feeling worse about ourselves, we do more for God by seeing how He’s done everything for us, and we give love away more freely when we discover that we have been saved by free grace. …

What draws people to Reformed theology is the belief that God is the center of the universe and we are not, that we are worse sinners than we imagine and God is a greater Savior than we ever thought possible, that the Lord is our righteousness and the Lord alone is our boast.

The attraction of the New Calvinism is not Calvin, but the God Calvin saw, not some new fad, but something old with new life blowing through it from the Spirit of God.

HT: Andy Naselli