Kevin DeYoung's Blog, page 170

Kings of Judah: Amaziah's God of Plenty

2 Chronicles 25:1-28

"The Lord is able to give you much more than this." (v. 9b)

Amaziah's reign was far from perfect, but it did include a great victory.

Amaziah marshaled together 300,000 fighting men to fight against Edom. Just to be safe, he hired 100,000 Israelite mercenaries for a hundred talents of silver. But a man of God warned the king otherwise, saying "the Lord is not with Israel" (v. 7). "But what about the hundred talents I paid for these Israelite troops," asked Amaziah (v. 8). The man of God replied with one of my favorite lines in the Bible, "The Lord can give you much more than that" (9). So Amaziah dismissed the troops and won the battle.

God seems to enjoy victory most when it seems most improbable. He turned away most of Gideon's men, accomplished salvation through death on a cross, and displays his glory in jars of clay. God loves to beat the odds. And he loves it when we trust him for more than we can ask or imagine. Some people think this means that God will make them rich and healthy. That's the wrong application of this passage. But never taking risks for God is also wrong. Recklessness is bad, but so is faithlessness. "Depend on it," Hudson Taylor famously remarked, "God's work done in God's way, will never lack God's supplies."

Play the Man

Some of you have probably been following Effemigate—the latest controversy to follow Seattle Pastor Mark Driscoll. The timeline looks like this: a couple weeks ago Driscoll posted something on Facebook about effeminate worship leaders. Christian blogger Rachel Held Evans called Driscoll a bully. Over at the World blog, Anthony Bradley criticized Evans' comments as libel. Even Brian McLaren added his two cents with a predictable morality tale about two kinds of "evangelicals." In a subsequent post Driscoll called his Facebook line "a flippant comment." He reports that his executive elders sat him down and challenged him "to do better by hitting real issues with real content in a real context." This is wise counsel. Driscoll's Facebook comment was bound to create more heat than light. It was an unwise way to talk about a serious issue.

I don't need to say anything more about the controversy itself. Like most web-storms, this one will blow over quickly. But the issues under the issue (as Driscoll puts it) are important and worth considering.

To that end, let me suggest three general principles that should guide our discussion of biblical manhood.

1. We must be aware which way the cultural winds are blowing. The reason for this awareness is not to go adrift with the culture, but to understand the times. In most American cities—especially cool cities like Seattle or Austin or New York—the ideas of male headship and female submission, or even gender distinctions in general, are strange, if not outright offensive. It's safe to say the default position in America is not the biblical view of men and women. So wise faithful pastors should not be closet complementarians—who believe and do the right things when push comes to shove—but candid complementarians. If we don't address these issues head on the world will press thousands of Christians into its mold.

Of course, the flip side of this cultural awareness should be a real desire for winsome, well-seasoned speech. If the cultural winds are blowing against us, hoisting our sails to catch the breeze is wrong. But this doesn't mean spitting into the wind is a good idea. There are occasions for provocation, but careful, patient, forthright instruction will usually gain the best hearing.

2. We need to be careful we don't equate our preferred type of masculinity with biblical manhood. I know conservatives want to push back the tide of feminism and fight against the emasculation of men in our culture, but offering stereotypes is not the way to do it. It's not fair to say, without qualification, that "Real men hunt and fish. Real men like football. Real men watch ultimate fighting. Real men love Braveheart. Real men change the oil and chop firewood." It's one thing for pastors to give men permission to be like this. It's another to prescribe that they must. You simply can't prove from the Bible that manliness must look like William Wallace. If you insist on one way to be a man, you're in danger of two things: 1) Hurting godly men who are manly but don't do things with sports, cars, or the outdoors. 2) Making your particular expression manhood the standard for everyone else. And when complementarians overreach with their definition of manhood they play into the hands of those who say there is no definition of manhood at all.

On the other hand, a different set of Christians needs to be careful they don't make Jesus—as the quintessential man—into a progressive beatnik. Some Christians reject the stereotype in the previous paragraph, only to replace it with another. So Jesus—and therefore, every real man—hates all violence, protests social inequality, and probably painted with watercolors. Not only does this ignore Jesus the avenger (Revelation 6 and 19) or Jesus the friend of rich people (Zacchaeus), it flattens the biblical narrative into another predictably anachronistic tale of how Jesus was a man exactly like me. So yes, Ted Nugent is not the only way to be a man. But that doesn't mean Sting is the alternative.

3.  Most importantly, Christians must affirm and teach and model that men and women are different—biologically, emotionally, relationally. There are a lot of passages I could turn to make this point, but I'll limit myself to 1 Corinthians. Here we see that the husband is the head of his wife (1 Cor. 11:3). We see men have a teaching role in the church that women do not have (14:34). We even see Paul use the phrase "act like men" as a synonym for courage (16:13; cf. 1 Kings 2:2). Gender differences are real and they matter. Little boys need to know what it means to be a man and not a woman. Little girls need to know what it means to be a woman and not a man. Gender identity and gender roles cannot be reversed without doing harm to God's good design for the sexes.

Which brings us to the point Driscoll was trying to make: Men are not women, and when men seem like women it is off-putting and unnatural. Here's where things get dicey. I think the hyper-masculine stereotypes are wrong and unhelpful. And yet…and yet, they are trying—albeit in a clumsy way—to recover something crucial. When Paul says that nature itself teaches that long hair is a disgrace to men (11:14), I don't think he's making a universal statement about follicles. But he is making a universal statement about gender. The particulars of the exegesis can be challenging, but essentially Paul is making two points: 1) it isn't right for men to be like women, and 2) how this plays out is somewhat determined by the culture. It was a girly thing to grow out your hair, so Paul rightly tells the men not to do it.

How does this apply in our day? That's hard to say. Hopefully we could all agree with some obvious examples. "Does not nature itself teach you that if a man wears a dress is it a disgrace for him?" "Does not nature itself teach you that if a man puts on lipstick it is a disgrace for him?" But what else can we say as Christians? Can real men enjoy musical theater and ballet and fine clothing? Surely they can and do. But on the other hand, if you met a guy who told you his favorite thing in the whole world was shopping for shoes, his favorite show was Say Yes to the Dress, and he got most of his news from The View, you'd be right to be concerned.

I don't know how and where to draw every line, but 1 Corinthians 11:14 has to mean something in our day. I know the questions are out there, like whether your average dude can wax his chest or whether he should do most of the driving on the family vacation. I'm not addressing all the nitty-gritty problems of application. But before we get to those we need to see the general principle: the Bible teaches that men can be effeminate and that they shouldn't.

Driscoll's mistake was not in taking the problem of effeminate men too seriously, but in making a flippant comment about something he knows to be a serious problem. In a day when certain men—from pirates to figure skaters to stand up comedians—wear eyeliner, and the typical sitcom dad is a henpecked oaf, we are overdue for some hard conversations about what manhood is supposed to look like. The Bible doesn't give us every specific we might want when it comes to defining masculinity. But it does start by telling us—and this is essential and by no means obvious to the world around us–that it's disgraceful for men to be women. Not because there's anything wrong with acting womanly of course. Praise God, women do it all the time. What's wrong is when men think it's no big deal for them to do it too.

Monday Morning Humor

Impress-ive.

The Burbs Still Matter

Here's an interesting article from Forbes. It's entitled "Why America's Young and Restless Will Abandon Cities for Suburbs." The author is Joel Kotkin, part historian, part demographer, part prognosticator on all things related to cities. Last year I briefly reviewed his book The Next Hundred Million: America in 2050.

Here's the upshot of the Forbes article:

Some demographers claim that "white flight" from the city is declining, replaced by a "bright flight" to the urban core from the suburbs. "Suburbs lose young whites to cities," crowed one Associated Press headline last year.

Yet evidence from the last Census show the opposite: a marked acceleration of movement not into cities but toward suburban and exurban locations. The simple, usually inexorable effects of maturation may be one reason for this surprising result. Simply put, when 20-somethings get older, they do things like marry, start businesses, settle down and maybe start having kids.

An analysis of the past decade's Census data by demographer Wendell Cox shows this. Cox looked at where 25- to 34-year-olds were living in 2000 and compared this to where they were living by 2010, now aged 35 to 44. The results were surprising: In the past 10 years, this cohort's presence grew 12% in suburban areas while dropping 22.7% in the core cities. Overall, this demographic expanded by roughly 1. 8 million in the suburbs while losing 1.3 million in the core cities.

The basic point is that lots of youngsters move into cities in their twenties, but they move out in their thirties when they want to start a family and settle down.

So what does this mean for the church?

1. If cities are strategic (and they are), we should pray that God will call some Christians not just to move to the cities for a season, but to stay there for the long haul.

2. If people continue to settle in the suburbs (and they do), we should not abandon ministry to the suburbs. The burbs need good churches, good pastors, and good Christians to stay put there.

3. We should be cautious in adopting wholesale the ministry models that work in the urban core. Churches in center city locations are usually filled with young, single professionals. The dynamics of family life, multiple generations, aging seniors, and long-term church members–all factors in most suburban and rural churches–are less likely to be at play in many center city congregations. It's not that we can't learn from everybody else, but we must be aware that the contexts are very different.

Those are just a few quick thoughts on the article. As always, be sure to read the whole thing.

Should Our Giving Always Be Secret?

Last week I wrote a short devotional about generosity. In the post I said we should be known for our generosity. This prompted some readers to question whether it would be a sign of arrogance if people knew of our generosity.

As if often the case on matters pertaining to money and the Christian, Randy Alcorn has wise, practical counsel. I encourage you to read his article "Should Our Giving Always Be Secret?"

Here is the opening:

Over the last ten years, I've been suggesting that we learn how to share testimonies about giving in order to help the body of Christ grow in the grace of giving.

I once objected to this type of disclosure—as many still do—because Jesus says, "But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you" (Matthew 6:3-4).

When one man received an automated tax receipt from his church indicating he'd given no money the previous year, he was outraged. He said he was obeying Scripture by not letting his left hand know what his right hand had given. Giving was to be so secret, he thought, that even he shouldn't know how much he was giving. (Apparently he didn't know he hadn't given anything.)

A closer look at this passage, and the rest of Scripture, demonstrates this is not a valid interpretation.

And here's the gist of Alcorn's argument:

If Christ established a principle in Matthew 6:2-4 that other people should never know what someone gives, then the members of the early Church violated it in Acts 4:36-37. There's no way around it. Numbers 7 lists the names of donors to the tabernacle. First Chronicles 29 tells exactly how much the leaders of Israel gave to build the temple, then it says, "The people rejoiced at the willing response of their leaders, for they had given freely and wholeheartedly to the Lord" (1 Chronicles 29:9). Philemon 1:7 is likely a reference to Philemon's generous giving, and 2 Corinthians 8:2-3 is definitely a reference to the Macedonians' generous giving. As we seek to understand the meaning of Matthew 6:2-4, we must consider the full counsel of Scripture.

In Matthew 6, it's clear that whatever's true of giving is also true of praying and fasting. Jesus says in verse 6, "When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen." He's swinging the pendulum away from the self-conscious, self-serving, image-enhancing prayers for which the Pharisees were notorious. But did he mean that all prayer must be private? No. Scripture has many examples of public and corporate prayer. Every time a pastor or worship leader prays in church, every time parents pray with their children, or husbands pray with wives, or families pray before dinner, or someone prays with the person being led to Christ, it demonstrates the falseness of the notion that it's always wrong to be seen or heard by others when you pray.

Jesus tells us to pray in secret, and God will reward us (Matthew 6:6). Yet gathering for group prayer is certainly important (Matthew 18:19-20). God wants us to pray secretly sometimes but not others. And so it follows that he wants us to give secretly sometimes but not others. It all comes down to the motives of our hearts and the purpose of disclosure.

It will be worth a few minutes of your time to read the whole thing.

Glory of God: The Might of the Maker

Psalm 19:1-176

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. (v. 1)

Psalm 19 is the classic text about God's revelation. Verses 7-14 deal with God's special revelation, how he reveals himself to us in his word. Verses 1-6 deal with his general revelation, how God can be known through his creation. General revelation cannot save us, but it is sufficient for seeing God's eternal power and divine nature (Rom. 1:20).

When we delight in God's handiwork, God is glorified. I have very refined culinary tastes, which is another way of saying I am obscenely picky. I don't eat my vegetables (unless my kids are around) and I don't try new things without cajoling. My wife has to put up with a lot. She is tolerant with me as long as I eat what's in front of me. But she is honored when I "mmm" and "aww," savoring each bite of her food. My delight in her creation is to her glory.

In the same way God is pleased when we admire the squirrel outside our window stuffing his cheeks full of acorns, the fireflies dotting the sky on a summer's night, or the way you can hear the corn grow in the middle of July. To paraphrase C.S. Lewis: beauty isn't in the eye of the beholder as much as beauty exists for those who have the eyes to see it.

Those Dern Lutherans: An Interview with Paul T. McCain

[image error]I like Lutherans, really I do. If I didn't, why would I be talking to Paul T. McCain. I just met this brother, but I can already tell he's the kind of guy I want to hang out with. He's theological, funny, and publishes books. And the title, "Those Dern Lutherans" was his idea.

1. Paul, why don't you start by telling us a little bit about yourself—your background, your family, your ministry.

I was born and raised in Pensacola, Florida, in the Heart of Dixie, the son of Lutheran day school teachers. I saw my first snowfall and heard my first real Northern accent when I went to college in Chicago at the age of 18. I am a pastor in The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. I studied for the ministry at Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne, where I stayed on for a couple extra years of advance study and served as an instructor in the department of systematic theology. After that I spent about three years as a pastor in Iowa, serving a wonderful little congregation which taught me how to be a pastor.

I came to Saint Louis in 1992 and spent nearly ten years serving two of our church body presidents as their assistant, and from there I've been serving at Concordia Publishing House for now nearly ten years, where I serve as Publisher.

I'm married to a great lady, Lynn, for almost thirty years. We have three children–Paul, John and Mary–all of whom are now covered under our car insurance plan. Let the reader understand.

2. As you know, I wrote a post a few weeks ago, "What's Up With Lutherans?" It wasn't the finest moment in blogging history. I'm not sure my post did what I wanted it to do. But I think it succeeded in getting Lutherans riled up! Why do you think evangelical Lutherans and conservative evangelicalism seem to be in two different worlds? Or was my whole premise mistaken?

I'm sorry to hear it got Lutheran riled up, but we tend to be easily riled, particularly the Germans. The Scandinavians are much more laid back. I'm Irish and I'm a Lutheran, so that's an interesting combination.

Your question is intriguing. It does feel at times we are in two different worlds. I think it might be the case that conservative/confessing Lutherans like me are more aware of what's going on among Evangelicals than Evangelicals are about what's going on among us, simply because there are so many more of you, than us.

I think that Lutherans, on the whole, tend to go about their business rather quietly and do not seem to capture the public imagination as much as Evangelicals (loosely defined). After all, we are the Lake Wobegon people, who are humble, shy and retiring by nature. Fundamentally, however, I do not think we live in two different worlds. I'd say we are in the same city, but just live in different parts of town, if that makes sense.

3. What is the history of the term "evangelical" for Lutherans? Do most Lutherans think of themselves as a part of American evangelicalism?

Interestingly, the first Evangelicals were the Lutherans. That's how we chose to refer to ourselves and how we were known early in the Reformation. We published a book a number of years ago and it remains one of our best sellers, by Dr. Gene Edward Veith, titled, The Spirituality of the Cross: The Way of the First Evangelicals. Dr. Veith does a great job exploring these kinds of issues in a clear understandable way.

But then our opponents started calling us "Lutherans." It stuck and the term "Evangelical" fell away from common usage, particularly here in the USA. The term "Evangelical" now means, in my opinion, just about what anyone wants it to mean. Confessing Lutherans can point readily and easily in fact to a single book when somebody asks us, "What's a Lutheran?" We pull out the Book of Concord from 1580 and say, "Here, this pretty much covers it." I think that tends to give us more interest in a clear sense of doctrinal identity and unity.

I do not think that most Lutherans consider themselves to be American Evangelicals. We tend to think of ourselves first, and foremost, simply as Lutheran Christians. I must say in light of the fact that conservative Lutherans do have a single book by which they can identify themselves, doctrinally, we find trying to nail down precisely what "Evangelicalism" is a bit like an exercise in nailing jello to a wall, and that kind of gives us the heebie-jeebies. That's a technical term.

4. Do Lutherans like Calvinists?

Yes, but only if they pay for the cigars and beer.

5. More seriously, what do you see as the main difference—theological, cultural, stylistic, historical, whatever—between Lutheran and Reformed churches? Big questions I know.

My fellow Lutherans may have different answers, but after all the years I've been carefully watching and following American Evangelicalism and interacting with it, I would respond in this way. First, a HUGE disclaimer. I can only speak for the Lutheranism I confess and am a part of: that is historic, orthodox, authentic, genuine, confessional Lutheranism, not the liberal mainline form of it that we find here in the United States (primarily with the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America).

So, theological? We are keen on emphasizing the proper distinction between God's Law, that shows us our sin, and God's Gospel, that shows us our Savior and we emphasize God's objective work through both His Word and His Sacraments. The "S" word makes our Evangelical friends very nervous, but we hold and cherish the Sacraments and really believe that God works saving faith by the power of His promising Word through Baptism. We also believe that the Lord's Supper is our Lord Christ's own dear body and blood, actually under, with and in the bread and wine, for us Christians to eat and drink, and that through it we receive forgiveness and life, and wherever there is forgiveness and life, there is salvation.

Cultural? Wow, that's all over the map. Lutherans come in all cultural shapes and sizes. Evangelicalism as well. I think we probably share more of a common American culture than we do a common ecclesiastical culture. For Lutherans, Evangelical worship forms and practices have become more popular, but ironically, just when some Lutherans are running after Evangelical "style" we have Evangelicals coming our direction looking for better substance and loving the historic, traditional Lutheran style of worship. It is reverent, dignified and liturgical, with forms dating all the way back to the 16th century. It is anchored in the liturgical life of the Christian Church, the major elements of which can be traced all the way back into nearly the first century, as evidenced in the Didache.

Historically, of course, Calvinism and Lutheranism have come to blows, sometimes literally, over very important subjects like: predestination, the Sacraments, and Christology. This is too big an issue for this brief interview, but I would trace the cause of our differences to fundamentally different understandings of the doctrine of the Incarnation and its implications for all our theology.

6. What are some good resources to read on Luther or Lutheranism?

Well, of course, anything published by Concordia Publishing House! Seriously, though, I would recommend the volumes in the Essential Lutheran Library. We put this collection together as a "core" library for Lutherans to use in their personal daily devotional life and to inform and shape their confession of the Christian faith. Here's the link to it.

7. What are some of your favorite Lutheran authors/books? What about non-Lutheran favorite books or authors?

Favorite Lutheran authors? Of course, number one, is Martin Luther. I just love the guy. His writing has a vibrancy and relevancy unmatched by few others. After Luther, I enjoy the works of Martin Chemnitz, John Gerhard, C.F.W. Walther and Dr. Gene Edward Veith, to name but a few Lutheran authors.

Non-Lutherans? That's easy: Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. I love the Lord of the Rings, and am very keen on any of Lewis' non-fiction. I just find him to be one of the most articulate and eloquent Christian writers in the English language. I must confess however I do not like Chronicles of Narnia. I'm sorry!

8. Have you ever been to Lake Wobegon?

Yes. Take my advice. Do not want to go during the Lutefisk festival. Nasty stuff that, and the Lutheran church ladies will make you eat it. You have been warned.

9. Anything else you think the world needs to know about Lutherans?

I would say this: I think Evangelicals often find themselves searching for something they feel might be a bit "missing" in their Christian walk, and think that Rome or Eastern Orthodoxy may fit the bill, while all the while Lutheranism is there, right around the corner. Often when they find a traditional Lutheran Church they are surprised to find a robust, rich worship life, rooted in the Scripture (which is what the liturgy is, in its entirety). They find a rich focus on Christ and the Gospel–Lutherans are adamant that Christ is the heart and center of everything, and they also find a tangible experience with God, not based simply on feelings or emotions, but on a concrete and objective experience with God's grace through the sacraments. And all this is wrapped up in such a vibrant passionate love for Jesus. We Lutherans combine the best of what is Evangelical, with the best of what is truly catholic about the Church, with the rich heritage of the Lutheran Reformation. I think it is a winning combination, but of course, I'm kind of biased.

A word of caution though: Lutherans are usually the ones most shy about Lutheranism. I suspect this is why you, Kevin, rightly asked, "Hey, where are the Lutherans?" You actually made a good and valid point. We suffer often from an inferiority complex and sometimes think that only Lutherans would care about Lutheranism and sometimes some of us are tempted to ditch our heritage to try to go with the "new" and "flashy" stuff, when all the time, the sturdy trustworthy Word of God is there, and it is from that inerrant and inspired Word that we know the Holy Spirit is working powerfully in our lives, as he is in your life!

Thanks Paul for an insider's look at Lutheranism, presented with the sort of vim and vigor Luther would be proud of. But, of course, conscience (a good Lutheran word) compels me to add that if anyone reading this blog is looking for a sturdy, robustly theological Christian heritage that prizes faithfulness over flashiness, is evangelical and catholic in the best senses of those two words,  and is wrapped in a vibrant passion for Jesus Christ–feel free to try the Reformed faith too!



Something to Think About

I've learned over the years that the simplest way to judge gray areas in the Christian life like movies, television, and music is to ask one simple question: can I thank God for this? (We are to give thanks in all circumstances, right? )Not too long ago my wife and I went to the movie theater to watch one of the summer blockbusters. It was a fun PG-13 movie, and you'd probably say it didn't really have any bad parts. But it was very sensual and suggestive in several places. I got done with the movie (yes, I watched the whole thing) and thought, "Can I really thank God for this?" Now, I'm not a total kill-joy. I like to laugh and enjoy life. I can thank God for the Chicago Bears, Hot N' Readys, and Brian Regan. But I wonder if after most of our entertainment we could sincerely get down on our knees and say, "Thank you God for this good gift." Something to think about.

Kings of Judah: Finishing Well

2 Chronicles 24:1-27

Thus Joash the king did not remember the kindness that Jehoiada, Zechariah's father, had shown him… (v. 22)

Joash ran the race of life like a sprinter when he should have been a marathoner. He did what was right in the eyes of the Lord all the years of Jehoiada the priest (v. 2). But sadly, Joash's piety lasted only as long as Jehoiada's life. Joash was a good follower and a bad leader. He was passive, a people-pleaser who was easily swayed by devious flatters (v. 17). During his reign, the people abandoned the temple, worshiped idols, ignored the prophets, and killed Jehoiada's son. Joash started his life strong, but finished poorly.

If you want to run the race strong to the end, ask yourself these four questions: (1) Is my faith my own?" Your parent's faith won't save you. Believe for yourself before you don't believe at all. (2) "Am I surrounded by people who will run with me to the finish line?" Joash wasn't. You need godly running partners in the race. (3) "Am I praying for conviction of sin?" Make this prayer weekly. It will keep you from falling away. The Lord will correct you if you ask him to. (4) "Am I quick to recall God's mercy and slow to remember my own triumphs?" Remember God and forget yourself and you will finish well.

Faith On Trial

You might want to check out his new old book from Martyn Lloyd-Jones. It's a series of expositions on Psalm 73 called Faith on Trial.

I wrote the foreword (a harder task than you might think) and have pasted it below. I tried to keep things interesting.

*****

Writing a foreword is funny business. Even though I've asked plenty of people to write a foreword for my books, now that I'm writing one for someone else I have to stop and think what they're for. I suppose a foreword is kind of like a big endorsement, a really long one that gets put at the front of the book instead of the back. The prospective reader is meant to think, "Hey, would you look at that—someone I know really likes this book written by someone I've never heard of." The foreword grabs your attention and makes you say, "I'll give this book a try."

Herein lies my dilemma with the book in your hands: I should not be writing a foreword for Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones. I mean, he never even asked for one! Okay, so the fact he died when I was three years old makes a personal invitation from the great Welsh preacher a bit unlikely. But that's precisely my point. By standard foreword protocol, the good Doctor should be writing for me. He's is my elder, my example, my teacher, one of my heroes. It was kind of Christian Focus to ask me to supply a foreword, but there's a chance this could backfire for them. I can hear it now: "Lloyd-Jones I know, but who is DeYoung?" This is one work where we must hope the foreword writer doesn't distract the reader from noticing the real author of the book.

Having said all that, let's imagine by some strange (and most unfortunate) fluke that you've read something by Kevin DeYoung and nothing by Martyn Lloyd-Jones. So here you are, reading this foreword, looking for a push over the edge into the canyon of consumer spending. I know the feeling. Let me try to give you a nudge.

Martyn Lloyd-Jones, the medically trained doctor and famous pastor at London's Westminster Chapel, has been one of the biggest influences on my Christian life and pastoral ministry. Here's how it went: First I read The Puritans, a collection of his addresses from Puritan and Westminster Conferences. I loved the history and was quickly enthralled with Lloyd-Jones theological acumen. I then poured over his early evangelistic sermons at Aberavon. Then I plowed through his most famous work, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount (a book my wife was reading when we first met—a strong indication I had found the right woman!). Later I read and reread Spiritual Depression. Ditto for Preaching and Preachers. Several other books from the best English-speaking expositor of twentieth century also sit on my shelves.

And I'll never forget getting Iain Murray's two volume biography of Lloyd-Jones as a Christmas present while I was still in college. I read it day and night during my break and whenever I got a chance into the spring semester. It was an exhilarating experience, which is saying something for a work that tops out over a thousand pages. Reading about Lloyd-Jones I knew I wanted to preach, and I wanted to preach the same gospel he preached with the same precision, the same fearless passion, and the same unequivocal commitment to the truth of Scripture.

I agreed to write this foreword because it gives me great pleasure to think of a new generation of Christians and ministers finding the same spiritual treasures I've found in Lloyd-Jones. If I can lead anyone to Lloyd-Jones I'm glad to have done my part.

A stubborn Welshman, Lloyd-Jones was far from perfect. He too quickly slipped into superlatives and could be too opinionated at times. But anyone who has read his books or heard his sermons (and his books are more or less typed up sermons) will testify that this man was anointed by God to preach the word. His writing is theologically precise, without being arid. His prose is conversational, yet without being cloying and colloquial. His exegesis is slow and plodding, but never boring. His ability to take a phrase of Scripture and hold it up the light so we can see all the angles and refractions, all the implications and applications, was Piperesque before there was John Piper. His books are spiritual in the best sense of the word.

This particular book is a searching exposition of Psalm 73, that great chapter that starts with doubt, ends in delight, and has God everywhere in between. In the first chapter, Lloyd-Jones hints that this is a book for "battered and beaten," for the one who can no longer "give the impression that he or she is always walking on the mountain top." For anyone who has ever wondered if life is fair, or if God is fair, these sermons will speak to your predicament. The Doctor will apply the balm of Scripture to soothe your soul and strengthen your faith.

And yet, like a good doctor, Lloyd-Jones will also expose our real condition. He had little patience for those who used the fine sounding phrases of Scripture "like drugs" to dull our senses and mask the real problems in our hearts. He always pressed home the hard parts of the Bible, so that by an honest assessment of ourselves we could find grace to help in our time of need. This book is no different. Lloyd-Jones challenges us on everything from thinking spiritually to accepting God's sovereign discipline in our lives. He calls the Christian away from self-pity and introspection. He rebukes the Christian, on the one hand, for believing he has a right to God's mercy, and on the other hand, for fearing that God's mercy will ever let him go. This book has the right mix of affliction for the comfortable and comfort for the afflicted.

So by all means, take advantage of this new book of old sermons. If you haven't read Martyn Lloyd-Jones before, this is as a good place to start as any. Faith on Trial makes for wonderful devotional reading. It can also be a supplement to your study of Psalm 73. It's also an engaging, honest look at Christianity perfect for an inquiring non-Christian. The truths are deep, but the approach is accessible. Lloyd-Jones gives you meat, but he cuts it up first.

And yes, the book is better than the foreword. Trust me.