A significant anniversary has quietly slipped by recently. March 1 saw the passing of the thirtieth anniversary of the death of Dr Martyn Lloyd-Jones. It is right to take a moment to remind ourselves, if we know, what an impact his ministry had, under God, and to alert a rising generation to his stature and importance.
We all know the story. King Saul was commanded to take no spoil from the Amalekites but to destroy everything, including even the animals. When the prophet Samuel discovered the many animals Saul had kept for his own use he roundly condemned him for his disobedience. King Saul attempted to justify his actions by saying he had kept the best of the animals in order to use them for sacrifice offerings to God. Unimpressed, Samuel speaks for God: “To obey is better than sacrifice.” And as a result of Saul’s “rejection” of God, God rejected Saul—his throne would be taken away and given to another.
In the ongoing debate and discussions over musical style in many churches, defenders of tradition in worship will often refer to their canon of congregational songs as “the great hymns of the faith.” While every tradition (and every traditionalist) will identify certain songs of praise in this category, all too often “great hymns of the faith” is a thinly-veiled synonym for “the songs that I happen to like.” Their criticism of the subjectivity of the proponents of contemporary worship songs is being answered by a similar subjectivity of their own.
There’s something about alphabet soup. It seems to affect all of us in the same way. We see all those letters floating around and words start coming to mind. Words like “genius,” “smart,” and “intelligent.” Obviously I’m not talking about the kind of alphabet soup that comes from Campbell’s. I’m talking about the alphabet soup that comes at the end of some people’s names, like mine: BA, MDiv, PhD.
On this week’s program, Heinz Dschankilic and Michael Haykin examine the practical consequences of having and maintaining sound doctrine. It dare not remain merely in the realm of theory but must translate into tangible concrete actions.
John Bunyan’s (1628–88) pursuit in all of life—especially in preaching and in writing—was personal piety. With the help of the Holy Spirit, he made every effort to “be a pattern, and example of piety.” From Bunyan’s own testimony:
The famous fifth-century theologian Augustine once reminisced on an earlier act of theft he had committed. While walking home one day he sneaked into a neighbor’s yard and stole a pear. Now looking back on the event he began to wonder why he did it. Why would he steal his neighbor’s pear? It was not because he was all that hungry. It was not because he did not have pears of his own. Nor was it because his neighbor’s pears were any better than the pears grown in his own yard. His own pears were every bit as good, and they were plentiful. Nor did he feel any need to “get even” with his neighbor—there had been no offense. So then why did he steal the pear from his neighbor?
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Heinz Dschankilic and Michael continue their discussion on the importance of sound doctrine in the life of the church today.
My favourite chapter in the Old Testament is 2 Kings 5. It is a brilliant story for all sorts of reasons, both literary and theological.
The chapter ends, you will recall, not on a triumphant note but on a note of warning. We do not close with the healed and renewed Naaman heading off into the sunset in his chariot but with the story of greedy Gehazi, Elisha’s servant. He is told in the final verse that Naaman’s leprosy would cling to him and his descendants forever. Then we read Gehazi went from Elisha’s presence and he was leprous, as white as snow.
I have never been part of a country club, but I have visited a few with friends who were members. And the experience has always been a good one, overall. Country clubs exist because people are social beings. We like to mix with other people, make friends, and we like to share common interests—whether golfing or other amusement or perhaps a particular social agenda. Of course for some, it seems, belonging to a particular country club is a matter of pride—there may be a certain prestige associated with the membership. But still, the country club can serve a good purpose. Friendships, amusements, activities, entertainment, social agendas—these are good things.