It was a late night at the Evangelical Theological Society’s annual meeting, almost twenty years ago. The day’s formal schedule was done, and a couple dozen young, impressionable seminarians gathered chairs around a few veteran scholars to pepper them with questions.

Among the handful of established professors, two in particular shone as the brightest lights in the room. Hands down, these two had published the most books, and had the most recognizable names beyond academic circles. When these two spoke, the room listened most intently.

By the end of the evening, however, a striking difference had emerged between the two lights. As they contributed answers to question after question, one defaulted, quite conspicuously, to quoting Westminster, and little Scripture. The other shared very little, if any, Westminster — but text after text from the Bible. I suspect it went unnoticed, at first, but eventually the pattern became pronounced. More than a handful of us had taken notice by the end.

On that night, the two Reformed lights ended up with mostly the same answers to our battery of questions, but the way they arrived at those answers exposed different instincts. One defaulted to Westminster; the other, to Scripture. It left a lasting impression on me. I knew which one I wanted to imitate. And while I couldn’t find any passage in Westminster commending the first approach, my mind did immediately run to one passage in Scripture, among others, that commends the second.

Born (Again) in a Small Town

In Acts 17, having been chased from Thessalonica by an angry, envious mob, Paul and Silas come to a small town called Berea. They start with the synagogue, as was their practice. Luke then marks a contrast with these Bereans:

Now these Jews were more noble than those in Thessalonica; they received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so. Many of them therefore believed, with not a few Greek women of high standing as well as men. (Acts 17:11–12)

Clearly, Luke is not just reporting. He is commending. “Oh, for all hearers of Christian preaching,” he would say, “to follow in the steps of these small-town nobles!” Luke highlights two particular aspects of what made this response “more noble.”

Like Hungry Children

First, he says they “received the word with all eagerness.”

Paul and Silas came to Berea to herald a message, a word, not their own, but from God, through Christ. They came to give what they themselves had not created but received. The noble Berean response began with openness, even readiness, to receive — to take the gospel of Jesus Christ as objective and given and unalterable and, with open hands, receive it.

And Luke doesn’t leave us guessing as to how they received it. He says “with all eagerness.” This word, from God himself in Christ, was not received with hostility, or with apathy. However much Luke commends this synagogue in Berea for an objective, level-headed examining of Scripture, let us not presume that “receiving the word” implies doing so dispassionately or with coolness. They received it eagerly. As Ajith Fernando comments, “Their nobility lay in their willingness to acknowledge their need, resulting in an eagerness to hear from God and to receive what they heard. . . . Like hungry children in need of food, they sought God’s Word” (Acts, 469).

Like Careful Prosecutors

Second, then, Luke also reports what form this eager reception took: “examining the Scriptures daily.”

Doubtless, first-century Jews did not have Christian creeds and confessions to consult, but they could have been greatly tempted to turn to a host of secondary sources: whether the Mishnah, or oral law, or the Jewish common sense and assumptions they were raised in, or the growing corpus of Second Temple literature. Like us, they had plenty of other seemingly noble sources to turn to other than the Scriptures themselves. They could have defaulted elsewhere to check the validity of Paul’s message, but by God’s grace, these Jews turned precisely to where they needed to turn: God’s own word, not human formulations.

Paul had started them in the right direction by his own practice. When he came to preach in synagogues, “he reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, ‘This Jesus, whom I proclaim to you, is the Christ’” (Acts 17:2–3). Paul pointed them in the right direction. He set up his listeners to check his message in Scripture by first reasoning with them from Scripture.

“They wanted to know the truth and the true God, and neither apathy nor gullibility would benefit the pursuit.”

So, following Paul’s lead, these noble Bereans examined the Scriptures for themselves. Eagerness and examination were not at odds; Luke commends both their heartfelt concern and their deliberate care. Noble indeed, they wanted to know the true God and his truth, and neither apathy nor gullibility would benefit the pursuit. And pursuit it was. This was no mere moment or flash in the pan. They endured in their careful search. They made eager reception, with scriptural examination, a daily practice.

Reformation Warning

In our own day, we too know the temptation of defaulting to voices other than Scripture to tell us what Scripture says. We have access to a stunning (and growing!) wealth of secondary literature, old and new. And best among it all are our creeds and confessions. They are precious — to be cherished far above the latest title off the press. Too few modern Christians appreciate the wisdom and value of the ancient creeds and faithful confessions like Westminster and others in its wake. And particularly those of us who gladly profess ourselves to be “Reformed” and unashamed sympathizers with the Reformation and its legacy.

“Do we daily, with eagerness, examine the Scriptures for ourselves?”

However, as those who rally to sola Scriptura — Scripture alone as our supreme and final authority — we do well to regularly check our practice with those noble readers in Berea. Do we daily, with eagerness, examine the Scriptures for ourselves?

Our best creeds, if we’ll let them, will remind us precisely of this, and encourage us to make a practice of this, even as useful as confessions can be when checking our work.

Keep Searching the Scriptures

For instance, the first section of the Desiring God Affirmation of Faith, though recognizing that “limited abilities, traditional biases, personal sin, and cultural assumptions often obscure biblical texts,” commends “humble and careful effort to find in the language of Scripture” itself what God has to say to us through his prophets and apostles (1.4).

It’s a warning worthy of sounding at not only the outset but the conclusion. The fifteenth and final section reprises the confession,

We do not claim infallibility for this affirmation and are open to refinement and correction from Scripture. Yet we do hold firmly to these truths as we see them and call on others to search the Scriptures to see if these things are so. As conversation and debate take place, it may be that we will learn from each other, and the boundaries will be adjusted, even possibly folding formerly disagreeing groups into closer fellowship. (15.4)

For now, we see much in the Scriptures dimly, not yet as we will (1 Corinthians 13:12). Young and old, we’re all to grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord, as given in his word (2 Peter 3:18). How tragic would it be, then, in self-identifying as “Reformed,” to keep Scripture at arm’s length in our admiration for those who so memorably championed Scripture, whether Luther, Calvin, Owen, Edwards, Westminster, or the Second London Confession.

So too, cutting the other way, as those genuinely eager to “receive the word” and “examine the Scriptures daily,” we do well to beware of letting sola Scriptura be a cloak for our own personal interpretations. Remembering those noble saints in Berea can renew in us the resolve to hold looser to human opinions and assumptions, especially our own. It’s a subtle but real and well-worn danger: we can fly the banner of “sola Scriptura” as a guise for rejecting the time-tested wisdom of creeds and confessions in service of our own personal instincts and interpretations.

Default to God’s Own Words

Those who teach faithfully and fruitfully in the church in the coming generation, as in the past, will be eager to herald scriptural truth, and they also will be eager to keep learning and growing themselves. No pastor or Christian leader has arrived, and the best know it well. Good pastors and teachers are ready to stand for what they know Scripture to teach, and yet are humbly willing to grow, and be shown to be wrong from Scripture.

However much we cherish and rehearse and draw wisdom from time-tested creeds and confessions, we learn to default to Scripture itself. We relish the very words of God even more. Not just in theory. In daily practice. In eager daily examination.

Audio Transcript

Many of you know I love to read books — so much so that I wrote a whole book about reading books. And I’m always encouraged to hear from readers who have put new emphasis on their own book reading because of the book I wrote. It’s a powerful discipline in the Christian life, as you know, Pastor John. I’m reminded of an episode we did this spring, about how “1 Percent of a Book Can Change Your Life.” That was the title of APJ 1910. Books have played a huge role in your development, and I know this, Pastor John, because every once in a while I get to study a book from your library.

Most recently, I looked through your copy of Mortimer Adler’s classic How to Read a Book, for another project in the works — a book about this podcast, actually. And being able to thumb through your own book was really instructive to see what sentences you underlined and what sections you marked and how you jotted down notes in the front and back of the book. Perhaps we can talk about how you mark up your books in the future. But this week — for these next two episodes — I want you to explain to us why you read books and whom you read: the why today, the whom on Thursday. So first, speaking from a macro perspective, what has been the impact of books on your life?

Well, what a wonderful question. It would be hard to overstate the life-shaping impact of books on my life. But I’m going to go back a little bit and lay a foundation.

The Bible Is a Book

Foundation number one is that the Bible is a book. The implications of that fact are simply staggering. When God contemplated all the possible ways that existed for him — as an infinite, omnipotent, all-wise God — to transmit and preserve his revelation to the world, he chose a book. And that’s simply astonishing. We have no other authoritative access to the knowledge of God, the way of salvation, and how to live a life pleasing to the Lord than through this book —either directly by reading it or indirectly from others who have read it.

“The Bible is a book. The implications of that fact are simply staggering.”

The book is absolutely unique. It’s inspired in all of its words, and that inspiration secures the sufficiency of the book in equipping us for every good deed. I mean, that very phrase in 2 Timothy 3:17 — “every good work” — is amazing to me. It’s an awesome claim that we are equipped, fitted out, by this book for every good deed that God expects of us. He won’t expect of us anything he doesn’t equip us to do through this book. So, it’s astonishing how unique and powerful this book is.

Meaning Through Reading

Then you add to that Ephesians 3:4, where Paul said, “When you read this, you can perceive my insight into the mystery of Christ.” That’s breathtaking to me. The inspiration of the book and the reading of the book are the junctures between God and man, where saving truth is moved from the divine mind into the human mind and spirit. These are staggering implications of saying that reading is the way “you can perceive my insight into the mystery of Christ,” as Paul says.

Of course, this is not possible without the almighty agency of the Holy Spirit. It’s not merely an intellectual affair. But it’s not less than an intellectual affair, because God has ordained that his truth come through a book. Reading is a work of the mind.

And of course, it also doesn’t mean — and nothing I’ve said is intended to imply — that we can just go about this in our own little private cubicle without taking anybody else into account. The Bible is crystal clear that God has appointed pastors and teachers — people with spiritual gifts that include wisdom, knowledge, prophecy, teaching, and other ways that humans clarify, apply, and inspire us with the Scriptures.

So, even though God is giving us a book, he means for us to understand the book, apply the book, and be inspired by the book with the help of other people — some who are dead and left their insights in books, and some who are alive and teach us, preach, counsel, and converse with us.

Once the reality of God’s privileging the written word — with his choice of a book as the decisive means by which he would reveal and preserve the revelation of himself — has sunk in, you can never be indifferent to the reality of books. God has privileged the book, honored the book, elevated the book, and esteemed the book above all other means for his centuries-long preservation and explanation of his revelation.

Seven Reasons to Read

So, when I say it would be hard to overstate the life-shaping impact of books on my life, I think I’m saying something very much in line with God’s purposes for the world. All that to justify my first sentence. So, let me be specific and answer your question.

1. Books have shown me the glory, the greatness, the character, the attributes, and the beauties of God.

“Books have shown me the glory, the greatness, the character, the attributes, and the beauties of God.”

2. Books have convicted me of sin. In fact, most books convict me of sin one way or the other. There was an extended period of time in Germany when every Sunday evening I would read an extended portion of Edwards’s Religious Affections, and I found myself devastated — week in and week out — as he peeled away the layers of the self-exaltation of my heart.

3. Books have shown me the path of righteousness.

4. Books have given me inspiration and encouragement in some of my most difficult days — and I’m thinking here mainly of biography.

5. Books have shaped the way I think and the way I express myself. I’m thinking, of course, of C.S. Lewis here — razor-sharp logic and a deep belief in the reality of reason and logic, while never elevating it above the essential importance of the imagination and the affections. It’s not only his deep belief in exemplification — setting an example of logic — but the touchable, smellable, tasteable concreteness of his language. Oh, the power of the concrete over the abstract in helping people grasp the greatest things!

6. Books have cultivated deep convictions in me about things like the aims of reading. I think here of E.D. Hirsch in his book Validity in Interpretation, which profoundly persuaded me that the only objective grounds for any claim to validity in one’s interpretation is that we have found an author’s intention in writing. I think that’s right, and what a vast implication it has for how you read everything.

7. Finally, I would say books have clarified for me biblical concepts that I may never have gotten good clarity on by myself because of how extensive the scope of one’s grasp of Scripture needs to be in order to synthesize in the way books do. And I’m thinking here of George Ladd, for example — one of my professors — in A Theology of the New Testament or his book The Presence of the Future.

Join Me

So, that’s the tip of the iceberg. To the person who struggles with reading, I would simply say, “Join me.” Join limited, slow-reading John Piper. Admit your limitations. Lay down all resentments, anger, self-pity, and self-justification, and humbly accept your limitations. Admit them, and then do the best you can. Be thankful for every measure of reading you’re able to do.

Audio Transcript

Welcome back to the podcast. Recently, we’ve been talking about how we serve and praise God. A week ago, we looked at what it means to serve God — “one of the most important questions a Christian can ask,” Pastor John said. That was APJ 1956. And that led to this question: What do we offer God as we serve him? Does he need us? And the answer to that question was no, he does not need us. We meet no need in him. So then, what do we offer him as we serve him? It’s another essential question to resolve. And that was last time, in APJ 1957.

Today we look at praise, but a different kind of praise than what we have been talking about on the podcast recently. Today we’re talking about praise in the context of celebrating one another. How do we celebrate one another authentically, and do so without flattery, which is a sin? This question is from Sarah, a listener who writes us this: “Pastor John, hello. Can you explain to me the difference between flattery and encouragement? We are called to encourage one another, but also to not puff one another up in pride. How can I know which one is which?”

There is such a thing as flattery. Not all getting is good, so we have the word greed, right? And not all giving is good, so we have the word bribe. Praise, which involves both getting and giving, may not be good, and so we have the word flattery.

Flattery in Scripture

The Greek word for flattery, kolakeias, occurs one time in the New Testament. Paul is defending his ministry to the Thessalonians, and he says, “We never came with words of flattery, as you know, nor with a pretext for greed — God is witness. Nor did we seek glory from people, whether from you or from others” (1 Thessalonians 2:5–6). And it is, I think, more than coincidental that flattery occurs in that sentence with the word greed. In other words, “I want something from you” — you’re kind of getting at the heart of flattery when you think about that.

“Flattery is a form of hypocrisy.”

The idea of flattery is present without the word in Jude 16, where Jude accuses certain men of admiring persons for the sake of their own advantage. That’s the idea: you’re admiring and you’re saying nice things about somebody for the sake of your own advantage.

Now, lots more is said about flattery in the Old Testament than in the New. The word flattery is built on the Hebrew word for be smooth or slippery. So, a person who flatters is smoothing and caressing. “The lips of a forbidden woman drip honey, and her speech is smoother than oil” (Proverbs 5:3). Here’s Proverbs 7:21: “With much seductive speech she persuades him; with her smooth talk she compels him.” The most general statement about flattery in its destructive effects is Proverbs 26:28, “A flattering mouth works ruin,” or Proverbs 29:5, “A man who flatters his neighbor spreads a net for his feet.”

Flattery vs. Praise

So, the key question becomes, How can we celebrate or praise good things about others without spreading a net for their feet or working their ruin? I think the key is to keep in mind the essential difference between good praise and bad flattery.

Flattery is bad because it’s calculated. It’s given with a view to obtaining some advantage (Jude 16). Flattery may be true; it may not be true. Sometimes people think it has to do with whether it’s true or not. That’s not the issue. You may be saying something true about somebody, and it may still be flattery. The issue is whether it’s calculated to achieve some purpose that is not rooted in the authentic, spontaneous delight that we take in the virtue we are praising.

In other words, the key mark of genuine, non-flattering praise is that it’s the overflow of authentic delight in what we are observing about the other person. It’s the opposite of calculation; it’s spontaneous. C.S. Lewis — one of my favorite quotes — says, “We delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not only expresses but completes the enjoyment. It is its appointed consummation” (Reflections on the Psalms, 111). Yes, exactly right.

But flattery does not flow from a sincere delight in the thing being praised. It’s all external and manipulative. It’s elicited out of us by some other benefit that we’re hoping to get through the flattery, not by the benefit that we just got from the person’s kindness or virtue or beauty or accomplishment. So, flattery is a form of hypocrisy. We try to give the impression that we are being moved by a spontaneous delight in something we admire, but we’re not really being moved by a spontaneous admiration. We’re being calculating; we’re desiring to use praise to get something. And I think the very phrase “use praise” makes me gag. You’re going to go to God and use praise. Ick. It’s a horrible way to think, and it’s pretty prevalent today.

Keeping Praise Authentic

This reality raises the question of whether it’s appropriate to “use praise” as a means of bringing about behaviors in children or employees or friends. Doesn’t that imply some kind of calculated use of praise for ulterior motives? And that’s a tough question.

I think the answer goes something like this. If the praise can still be an expression of authentic, spontaneous delight in some good that we have observed, and if our goal is that the child or the friend do more of that behavior, not for the sake of praise but because it’s intrinsically beautiful and God-honoring, then it’s legitimate to hope that our praise will produce more good behavior. But in general, I think it’s dangerous to think of our praise of others — including our children — in utilitarian terms.

“The key mark of genuine, non-flattering praise is that it’s the overflow of authentic delight.”

Children are going to catch on to this eventually. They’re going to say, “I don’t think Daddy really enjoyed what I just did. He’s just trying to use it to get me to do something.” Thinking that our praise will bring about behaviors that we want — kids are going to catch on to that. That’s not going to be authentic. Parents will be thinking like psychologically trained manipulators. Far better to be the kind of person — the kind of parent — who sees God-given virtue or God-given achievements, and is so authentically stirred with admiration and joy that we spill over with praise.

And of course, it’s going to have wonderful effects on our relationships and on the future behaviors of our kids and others. But if we start making the utilitarian dimension of praise prominent — which it is being made prominent today — it will cease to be authentic and, in the long run, I think it will backfire.

Evidences of Grace

Just one last help. I have friends who have taught me that a good way to conceive of our praising other people is to think of it as drawing attention — spontaneously enjoying and thus drawing attention — to “evidences of God’s grace.” That little phrase is pretty common in some circles, and I think it’s a good one. If we believe that in sinful human beings all virtue is ultimately from God, which it is, then all praising of true virtue or true accomplishments or any beautiful traits that we see will be conceived of as honoring God, not just man.

So, it is a good thing in a family, in a church, and among friends to habitually call attention to evidences of grace in each other’s lives, to say to our children in a dozen ways — we don’t have to be mechanical about this —“I love what God is doing in your life.” “That was so good of the way you shared your toys with Jimmy.” Kids aren’t going to think, “Oh, Daddy’s preaching” — not if it’s authentic, and you really feel joy in what your child just did and joy in the grace of God.

But my earnest plea is this: try to avoid utilitarian, calculated approaches that turn spontaneity into manipulation. That’s the soil of flattery.