All of Jesus’s human life led him to this garden. As he knelt and prayed in Gethsemane, waiting in agony — with beads of sweat “like great drops of blood falling down to the ground” (Luke 22:44) — here he made the Choice.

Countless decisions, big and small, brought him here, but only in the garden did he finalize the decision to go to the cross. Gethsemane marked his last and most distressing moments of deliberation. He chose to enter the garden, and he could have chosen to flee.

“Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me,” he prayed. “Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42). There, on his knees, Jesus chose — with his human will, like ours, which naturally recoiled at the threat of pain and death — to embrace the one divine will of his Father, which was also his, as eternal Son.

When he rose from prayer (Luke 22:45), the decision was done, his fully human will in perfect synch and submission to the divine. Now, as Judas and the soldiers arrived, he would be acted upon: arrested, accused, tried, struck, flogged, and crucified.

Two Wills in Christ

For centuries, dyothelitism is the term the church has used to refer to the two wills of Christ — the one divine will he (eternally) shares as God, with his Father (and the Spirit), and a natural human will that is his by virtue of the incarnation and his taking on our full humanity. We speak of two wills in the one unique person of the God-man.

“Jesus has a human will, like us, with which he sympathizes, strengthens, and saves.”

In multiple places in John’s Gospel, Jesus refers to his human will in distinction from that of his Father, “the one who sent me.” “My food is to do the will of him who sent me” (John 4:34). “I seek not my own will but the will of him who sent me” (John 5:30). “I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me” (John 6:38).

Yet the place where Jesus’s distinctly human will stands out most is Gethsemane, in those final moments of Choice before he is taken and, humanly speaking, there is no turning back. Not only did Jesus teach his men to pray to his Father “your will be done” (Matthew 6:10), but in the garden, Christ himself prayed, “not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39), and then again, “your will be done” (Matthew 26:42). And in doing so, he embraced the divine will with his human volition.

Human All the Way?

The early church endured attacks against both Jesus’s deity (from Arians) and his full humanity (from Docetists and Apollinarians), questioning his fully human body, emotions, and mind. The battle for his human will came last and was the most sophisticated. The conflict, prompted by political intrigue, raged in the seventh century and led to a sixth ecumenical council in 680–681, the third at Constantinople. Obscure as the refined nature of the controversy may seem to us today, the debate between dyothelitism and the opposing view (monothelitism) still carries the theological significance it did more than twelve centuries ago, and warrants our attention, perhaps all the more in circles where it has been neglected or forgotten.

In contrast to monothelitism, which claims the divine will of the Son animates the human body and soul of Jesus, dyothelitism presses for the full, uncompromised humanity of Christ. We find two wills in the agony of Gethsemane in the one person of Christ. There is a human nature in him that desires the removal of the cup — that there be some other way, if possible, than the divine will. The question, then, is when Christ prays, “not my will, but yours, be done,” whose will is “my will,” and whose is “yours”?

When the question was freshly pressed on the church in the seventh century, the explanation that emerged as most compelling, and enduring, was that of Maximus the Confessor (born 580) — even though he did not live to see the triumph. At the time, dyothelitism was not politically expedient to the emperor Constans’s ambitions to reunite Christian regions against the threat of Islam. Maximus was arrested and exiled, and he died in exile eight years later at age 81. Seven years later, Constans was assassinated. Soon the imperial attitude changed, and twenty years after Maximus’s death, his theology carried the day at the ecumenical council.

It was Maximus, claims Demetrios Bathrellos, who “was really the first to point out in an unambiguous way that it is the Logos (the eternal Son) as a man who addressed the Father in Gethsemane. . . . [Maximus] emphasized the fact that in Gethsemane Christ decided as man to obey the divine will, and thus overcame the blameless human instinctive urge to avoid death” (The Byzantine Christ, 146–147).

In this way, we confess two wills in the unique divine-human God-man. As God, Jesus “wills by his divine will and as man obeys the divine will by his human will” (174). In Maximus’s own words, “The subject who says ‘let this cup pass from me’ and the subject who says ‘not as I will’ are one and the same.” So, writes Bathrellos, “[B]oth the desire to avoid death and the submission to the divine will of the Father have to do with the humanity of Christ and his human will” (147).

Why His Wills Matter

Obscure as the ancient debate may seem at first, one reason for its enduring relevance is our own humanity. We are human as they were human. And in particular, our wills are human, constrained by finitude. Humans like us have an interest (not just intellectually but very practically) in the question, Was Christ indeed “made like [us] in every respect” (Hebrews 2:17)? And is he able “to sympathize with our weaknesses [as] one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15)?

“If Christ is not fully human, there is no great salvation for humans.”

Even more than sympathy, Is Christ truly able to save us? If he is not fully human, there is no great salvation for humans. As the famous maxim of Gregory of Nazianzus claims, that which Christ has not assumed, he has not healed. And not just healed eternally, but even in this life. What hope do we have of his reclaiming, sanctifying, and redeeming our own fallen, sinful human wills if the eternal Son has not descended to the full extent of our humanity, yet without sin? As Edward Oakes writes, “Since will is the very seat of sin, its fons et origo, we are still left in our plight if Christ did not have a human will” (Infinity Dwindled to Infancy, 162). Would Christ come in human flesh and blood, emotions and mind, and leave the human will, “the very seat of sin,” untaken, untouched, and unredeemed?

Also, a “trinitarian logic” informs and reinforces the two wills of Christ. According to Donald Fairbairn and Ryan Reeves, “Maximus argued that since in the Trinity there are three persons and one nature, and also one will, the will must be a function of the nature, not the person” (150). That is an important distinction: that the will, whether divine or human, is a function of the theological category “nature,” not “person.” Two wills in Christ (one human, one divine) correspond with one will in God. One will in Christ (divine only) would mean that the two wills in tension in Gethsemane would be between divine “persons” (Father and Son) rather than between “natures” (divine and human), challenging oneness in the Godhead, and thus revising not only orthodox Christology but also trinitarianism.

Yet, “even more significant,” notes Fairbairn and Reeves, is the “soteriological conviction that the unassumed is unhealed” (150). Human salvation in Christ is at stake in the human will of Christ, not only in his receiving in himself the penalty of our fallen wills (as we’ve seen), but also in his own obedience, as the God-man, to his Father. As man, Jesus “learned obedience through what he suffered” (Hebrews 5:8), and as man, “he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death” (Philippians 2:8). “The many will be made righteous,” says Romans 5:19, “by the one man’s obedience” — a human obedience, by virtue of the incarnation, he could not have rendered apart from a human will.

Cult of Will

Not only does dyothelitism correlate best with God’s triune nature, our human nature, and the nature of the atonement, but in locating the will as a function of the “nature,” rather than the “person,” dyothelitism guards us against the modern “cult of will.” Oakes warns, “When personhood is identified without further ado with the will, then the cult of will in Friedrich Nietzsche and his postmodern successors inevitably follows” (164). Oakes points to Bathrellos’s “extremely thought-provoking observation that so many of the ethical outrages of today can be traced to the . . . error of identifying nature with person.” Says Bathrellos,

The tendency to identify personhood with nature or natural qualities and especially with the mind . . . seems to occur quite often in the history of human thought. It is remarkable that in our own day some philosophers of ethics give a definition of “person” based on mental and volitional capacities, and in doing so make it possible to justify, for example, abortion and even infanticide. (14)

However far-reaching the implications of Christ’s two wills, and full humanity, we as Christians are worshipers first and foremost. We declare, as the cardinal confession of our faith, “Jesus is Lord” — and when we do so, we submit to a Sovereign not only infinitely high above us as God but one who has drawn near as our own brother and friend, and went so low to serve and sacrifice himself for us. In addition to his divine will as God, Jesus has a human will, like us, with which he sympathizes, strengthens, and saves.

Austin Duncan: I want to welcome you to our Q&A session with pastors John MacArthur and John Piper. There is something wonderful about this opportunity. Both of these men are known for their deep well of biblical and theological knowledge. Their years and years of pastoral faithfulness have prepared them for moments like these. They both have a burden to answer people’s questions.

Dr. MacArthur, you have had hundreds of sessions with your local church where you’ll just open up the microphone on Sunday night and answer people’s questions — and they’ll line up. Two weeks ago, you answered questions for two hours regarding what was on people’s hearts.

Dr. Piper, you have a podcast called Ask Pastor John. It’s incredibly helpful as the dear Tony Reinke asks you so many questions. The podcast has produced a book. It’s called Ask Pastor John: 750 Bible Answers to Life’s Most Important Questions. It’s sold out in the book tent already. It disappeared quickly. You can get it online. I recommend that to you, men. And obviously, Dr. MacArthur’s years and years of answers to Bible questions are at gty.org.

I think that’s where I’d like to start. Why is it so important for the pastor to be accessible to ask and answer questions, to be there for people’s needs? Why has that become such an important part of your ministries?

John MacArthur: Well, because you don’t want to spend your whole ministry telling people what they don’t want to know.

John Piper: Sometimes we do.

MacArthur: Yes. But I said you don’t want to spend your whole ministry . . .

Piper: That’s true.

MacArthur: You want to spend some of your ministry telling them what they don’t want to know.

Piper: Touché.

MacArthur: But you also want to spend a lot of your ministry telling them what they desperately want to know — the cries of their heart, the dilemmas that they face. And you want to do it particularly in a pastoral role where there’s trust. You don’t have to sort of give an apologia for every answer you give because you’ve built trust by feeding them the word of God.

I think Paul set me on that course when he dialogued (diálogos) and talked back and forth with the people he ministered to, in order to answer their compelling questions. For him, it would’ve been more difficult because all they would’ve had at most would be the Old Testament. For us, we can direct them to the New Testament. But this has always been a vital part of our ministry. And I think what I hear from deconstruction people, the “exvangelicals,” is that they went to a church but they never got their questions answered. There’s no reason for that. We have the answers.

Duncan: So, it’s about the contemporaneity of those questions, it’s what’s on people’s hearts, and it’s also about the sufficiency of Scripture. What’s the burden behind your desire to answer people’s questions, Dr. Piper?

Piper: Well, at my stage in life, I don’t have a local church anymore that I oversee as the pastor. Look at the Book, which is the other little thing I do online, has kind of replaced my preaching role, and Ask Pastor John has replaced my counseling role. So, I get to do all my pastoral work online. That’s one way to look at it.

The other thing is that the pulpit of John MacArthur and John Piper is not exactly the same as the Q&A of John Piper and John MacArthur. At least that’s what people tell me about you, and I think that’s what I’ve found. They say you’re a bulldog in the pulpit. And then they say you’re the kindest, gentlest, most gracious person in conversation. I’ve seen both of those. Now, I have no idea whether I’m viewed as a bulldog or a kind person, but I think I am viewed as a different person.

I think that your flock needs to know you both ways. It is not a bad thing to be a prophetic authority in the pulpit. That scares the heebie-jeebies out of people. And it’s not a bad thing to be a lowly servant, quiet listener, who gets your arms around people out of the pulpit.

MacArthur: You preach with boldness, and you give an answer with meekness and fear.

Duncan: We’ve highlighted before in Q&As with the two of you how different you both are. You have different personalities and are wired in different ways. I think that’s something that we thank God for in the way he makes people different. But there’s something that has been noticed at this conference, and it’s that you two have an unusual bond. People are taking pictures of you two greeting and hugging each other and talking together and posting them online and just talking about how encouraged they are by the bond and friendship that the two of you share.

I really want this Q&A to be helpful to these pastors that are watching and listening to this. I think there’s something that you could teach us about why relationships with another pastor are so important. What is it about friendship that will enhance a man’s pastoral ministry? We’ve heard a little bit about that in this conference, but speak experientially to these brothers, and help them think about the pastor and friendship.

Piper: I’ve heard people say that your best friends are going to have to be outside of the church, not within your own church, your own staff, or your own elders and deacons. I did not find that true. And I don’t think it’s healthy to talk that way. For 33 years, I considered my staff my best friends.

MacArthur: Yes.

Piper: The elders were absolutely trustworthy with my life. If Noël and I were having problems, I didn’t try to hide it from anybody on the staff. They were my closest friends. They are still today, the ones that I still have around me. That’s the first thing I’d say. Don’t feel like, “Oh, you can’t have a good friend inside the church because you can’t really be honest with them.” Baloney. You really ought to be honest with the people closest to you and those who work with you. We need to know each other through and through. For whatever reason, Jesus had his Peter, James, and John. And he had his 12, and he had his 70. There are concentric circles of intimacy, it seems, that mattered to him. They certainly matter to me. To this day, I meet with two guys every other week, and they know me like nobody else knows me. That keeps me accountable. That’s a big deal today, accountability. But it never feels quite that way if you’re with really good friends.

“How do you even function in the midst of slander unless you love heaven, unless you believe in the world to come?”

So, that matters. They know me, they can speak into my life. And those friends need to not be yes-men. They need to be fearless around you and speak into your life without feeling like they’re going to be squashed because you have more authority than they do. So, I think it makes a huge difference whether you’re accountable, whether your heart is open, and whether they can bear your burdens that you share with them and pray for you at the deepest levels where very few other people are praying for you because they don’t know what you’re dealing with.

Duncan: Dr. MacArthur, what would you add about friendship?

MacArthur: Well, let me talk about John. I was asked, “Why would you have John Piper at the conference?” My immediate answer was, “Because one, I love him; two, he is as formidable a lover of Christ as there exists in the world today; and three, because he feeds me.” I don’t get a lot of time with John, but I did get a thousand pages plus of Providence delivered to me through your mind and your heart. Your face is on every page because I know you. I’m reading but I’m hearing you. And I know you well enough to know what went on for you to be able to produce such a massive work. I don’t know that there’s more than a handful of modern people who have had that kind of biblical effect on me. I mean, you probably read more old authors than current authors, like I do.

Piper: Yep.

MacArthur: But for a current author, you’ve delivered your soul to me in so many ways. I remember we were at the Sing! conference one year, you might not remember this, and you were speaking at the early session. It was about 8:00 a.m. I was in the green room when you showed up, and you said, “What are you doing here?” Do you remember that?

Piper: No. But I’m eager to hear.

MacArthur: I said, “What do you mean what am I doing here? You’re speaking.” You said, “You came to hear me speak?” I said, “Of course.” I mean, you’re processing, “You flew from California last night and got in late. It’s 7:00 a.m., which is 4:00 a.m. or 5:00 a.m. for you.” I wait for the Lord to use you to bring me what I need for my heart and soul. So, anytime I can do that, I’m going to be there.

Piper: Well, you’re kind. C.S. Lewis made the distinctions about the four kinds of love. Eros is where lovers are looking at each other in the face, telling each other how delicious they are.

MacArthur: No, it’s not that kind of love, John.

Piper: Don’t — don’t interrupt. I’m getting there. And philos is friendship, and you’re not facing each other. You’re facing a passionate goal, shoulder to shoulder. And you’re not doing a lot of intimate talk. I started with the intimacy piece of those guys who know me through and through, but what makes it friendship is the shoulder-to-shoulder pulling in a worthy, great cause you’re willing to die for. And when you sense in another person that you’re pulling in the same reins — in the same yoke — then you feel like, “We could die together. This would be good. This would be good.” That’s the kind of friendship you want. You want a shoulder-to-shoulder, common goal, a common vision.

This might be a good place to say this. I don’t believe it’s a good goal to have a theologically diverse staff. I’ve heard pastors say, “Oh, we don’t need to agree on all the theological things on the staff.” I say baloney. You have to lead your people together. You have to lead. So, when you’re shoulder to shoulder, you know what the other person is thinking, you know what the other person is feeling. And, oh, the camaraderie that brings you. When the church gets into a crisis, oh my goodness, how glorious is it to have a few close friends that you absolutely know are going to be standing by you through the crisis?

MacArthur: That’s a great answer.

Duncan: That’s why J.C. Ryle said, “Friendship is that gift from God that doubles our joys and halves our sorrows.” That’s what you men are sharing with us, and that’s why pastors need Christ-honoring, Christ-centered, Christ-pursuing friendships.

Piper: Can I say one more thing? If you’re really bound together deeply — theologically and spiritually — you don’t have to spend a lot of time together. I mean, I have a few friends I see once a year or so. I see him less often than that probably. And when you get together, you just pick up where you were. That’s the way it was with those people. For years, I’ve related to some people that way. It’s like a once-a-year friendship, but it feels deeper than some people you see every week because the shoulder-to-shoulder, common convictions and goals are so deep. So, don’t feel like you can’t have significant friendships with people that you knew in college or you knew in seminary. You keep up with them at a distance.

MacArthur: You know, I had that kind of relationship with R.C. Sproul. We were on opposite coasts, and we spent some time together, maybe once or twice a year. And yet, there was this shoulder-to-shoulder attitude that we knew if we ever were in a severe battle, we needed to be together. And that’s where we were at ECT. That kind of defined that relationship. People said, “How could you have such a friendship when you had different theological views on certain things?” It’s right back to exactly what John said. R.C. would always say, “When I’m in a foxhole, I’m going to call you.”

Piper: That’s good.

Duncan: Let’s talk about the flip side of this, which is the deepest and darkest part of friendship — when a friend fails us. We’ve all had that experience of betrayal. Maybe there’s a friend that drifts into error or a friend that drifts into sin. Maybe you could help the pastors here process what was a common experience for the apostle Paul and for the Lord Jesus — when friends fail you. When that happens, how do you continue to pour yourself into the lives of people? How do you ensure that you don’t become self-protective but you continue to invest and pour in and love your friends, even when friends fail? Talk a little bit about that experience in ministry.

MacArthur: For me, it goes back to our Lord and Judas, or it goes back to Paul and Demas. The best of the best of the best of the best are going to be betrayed. And the more you invest in someone, the more potential they have to devastate you. So, you can be gun-shy. My dad told me when I was just starting out in ministry, “Don’t make close friends with the people you serve with because you’ll find yourself being so terribly disappointed.” I usually took my dad’s advice but I never took that advice because it was overpowered, for me, by the experience of Christ, not only with Judas but even with Peter. If he was disappointed with Judas, who was a devil, how much more disappointed was he with Peter, who was a true believer?

So, who am I to expect loyalty from everybody all of the time? And we know what Paul endured, whether it was John Mark or Demas or whatever, and who knows all the other stories. He said, “All in Asia have forsaken me” (see 2 Timothy 1:15). How can you come to the end of your ministry and say, “Everybody has forsaken me”? How is that even possible? You’re the apostle Paul. You’re the reason that anybody is even a Christian.

But you have to understand that goes with the territory. That’s part of it. You do some inventory in your own heart and ask, “Could I have done something different?” But for me, the Lord has always balanced that with many more who are faithful over the long haul. I focus on that and rest in the fact that if it was true of the apostle Paul and of our Lord, I should probably expect a whole lot more disloyalty than I get.

Piper: There’s an interesting connection that I didn’t see until about three years ago in the Demas text. Second Timothy 4:7–8 says,

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.

And two verses later, he says Demas disappeared in love for the world. So, I think one answer to the question of how you survive Demas is by loving the second coming, which means something like this: This world is one conveyor belt of disappointments. Every day has a disappointment in it. Some situations don’t go the way you want. Somebody lets you down. Life is disappointing, and some of them are awful. Demas probably broke his heart. But he so loved Christ and he so loved the second coming and he knew everything was going to work out. It’s all going to be okay.

So, I think we need to have a heavenly mindset, which is the way Jesus told us to deal with slander in Matthew 5, right? When they say “all kinds of evil against you falsely,” “rejoice and be glad” (Matthew 5:11–12). Why? “Great is your reward in heaven.” So, how do you even function in the midst of slander unless you love heaven, unless you believe in the world to come? That’s one piece.

Another piece I’d say about betrayal is don’t become embittered. Lean into reconciliation possibilities. It might seem absolutely impossible that this relationship could be fixed. You might think, “It’s just not going to happen. It’s just so ugly.” Don’t believe that. God does miracles. The worst betrayal I ever experienced was 1993. There was a seven-year adultery from a man I’d worked with for 10 years, which devastated the church. There were 230 people who left in those days. I think we had an attendance of about 1,200 people in those days, and 230 people walked because they didn’t like church discipline.

I had dinner with that man 10 years later, and we wept. We held each other. I attended his funeral, hugged his wife, and we made it okay. It was okay. We’re going to be in heaven together. And that’s possible, guys. It’s really possible. Your job is to believe that and not to be the one who’s just sneering and saying, “You just get out of my life and you stay out of my life because of what you wrecked in this church or what you wrecked in my relationships.” So, believe the miracle is possible — that reconciliation could happen.

MacArthur: You know, building on that, I think you also have to look at that person as an instrument through which the Lord is perfecting you.

Piper: That’s right.

MacArthur: Those are the best times for your spiritual benefit. They tear down your pride and self-confidence and sense of privilege and expected rights. And if you will look at the person that hurt you the most as the instrument that God used, then you’ll understand what Paul was talking about when he wrote to the Corinthians about the thorn in the flesh. The Lord said, “I’m not going to remove it because when you’re the weakest, you’re the strongest” (see 2 Corinthians 12:9–10). We’re never going to be too weak to be effective.

Piper: Right. That reality of chapter 12 really runs through all of 2 Corinthians, doesn’t it? The pastoral suffering is for the sake of their people. It’s just all through the book. It starts off in 2 Corinthians 1, saying, “May you be comforted with the comfort with which you have been comforted by God” (see 2 Corinthians 1:3–5). So, if you wonder why you’re going through the hell you’re going through right now, it’s for the sake of your people. God wants to do something in your shepherd’s heart that will make you a more wise, compassionate, loving, insightful, caring shepherd.

Duncan: You both have battled for truth and various difficult doctrinal controversies. You’ve battled for truth in ethical matters where someone drifts into error. I think both of you model being warriors for the truth. And this conference is about the triumph of truth. How do we think about battling for truth and maintaining that full awareness of grace? Another way to say it is, how do we differentiate, in our battling for truth, between contending and being contentious? How can we be bulldogs and followers of the Lamb?

Piper: Yeah, that’s good. You should be a preacher. You sound like H.B. Charles. I love John Owen and I love Machen, so I did this little book years ago called Contending for Our All. R.C. Sproul wrote something for it. He liked it. And that made me feel really good. But here’s the one quote that made all the difference for me, and it’s been a goal. I don’t know if I’ve achieved it, but Owen said that we should “commune with the Lord in the doctrine for which we contend.” Now, here’s what that means to me. Let’s say I’m fighting for justification, say, with N.T. Wright, or I’m fighting for Calvinism against Roger Olson or whatever. I know these guys. I’ve communicated with them. It’s not like throwing hate bombs over the fence.

My desire is that I would be authentic with them and real with them, and that I would not be contentious, but when it’s justification or the sovereignty of God, as I go into battle, whether it’s over lunch or in a book, I’m saying, “Lord, I don’t want this to be a game. I don’t want to have a little tiff here. I don’t want to play word games or doctrine games or proposition games. I want to know the sweetness of justification. I want to know the preciousness of the sovereignty of God. That’s the only reason I want to defend this. I don’t want to win anything. I’m not out to get strokes or be famous. I want to enjoy you.” I think that’s what Owen meant. I want to enjoy God in the doctrine for which I contend. I think that changes the spirit from contentiousness to a humble, holy, courageous contending. That’s one factor.

MacArthur: I think that’s true. That will prevent you from being angry or being hostile, because if you love that truth, that basically takes over your heart. That is the first thing. This is a truth you love, not a club with which you want to beat people.

The second thing is that this is a person that you love or that you care about, so your attitude is going to be the combination of how you feel about the truth and how you feel about the person. And if you lose it on either side, if you’re trying to win an argument, you’re going to be cantankerous. Or if you’re indifferent to the person, you’re going to become frustrated with dealing with the person, and you’re going to lose the tenderness and persuasiveness that the Spirit of God would want you to have while you’re trying to convince them.

Duncan: That’s very helpful.

Piper: I would add that joy, along with love, has a huge effect, because you can lose your joy quickly in an argument. Anger is an omnivorous emotion. It eats everything. It eats compassion, it eats joy, it eats everything. If you get taken over by anger, you lose those things. And joy is a great antidote. In your local church, there will be little controversies. We’re talking about big controversies here, public controversies. But in your church, you’ll have controversies. People don’t like what you just said or believed. I had a guy one time who did not like my eschatology. I won’t even tell you which side anybody’s on here.

I preached on a Sunday evening and I said, “I can’t imagine anybody wanting to do that.” He was at the back of the row and said, “I don’t believe that,” right out loud in the service. Now, here’s another illustration of somebody you get really reconciled with. I said to him, along with the other people sitting with their arms crossed in the back row, “I’m going to out-rejoice you and outlive you.” And I did. I was brand new. I was three years into my 33-year ministry, and we became precious friends. We never agreed, but we were precious friends. When he moved away to Iowa, later, he called me after about six years and he said his wife had died. He asked if I would do the funeral.

So, don’t think that the people who stand up and shout out in your service, saying, “I don’t agree with you, pastor,” won’t do a 180 and love you like crazy before you’re done. Because what was under that was that he loved the Bible. He loved the Bible. He thought I was unbiblical, but then, after two or three years, he said, “Piper is not unbiblical. He’s totally under this Book, and we’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one.”

Duncan: To think about your ministries and how they will be thought of in the future is beyond our capability as people with our limited understanding of how God works and how providence unfolds. But I think it’s not speculation to say that, though you’ve written hundreds of books between the two of you, tens of thousands of pages and millions of words, you both will be known for one book, first and foremost, that you wrote. I think John Piper will be known for Desiring God and John MacArthur will be known for The Gospel According to Jesus. Those are formative, definitive, huge-impact books that reflect the heartbeat of your ministries and the emphasis of your lives. I would like you to just consider why those books. I’m especially interested in Dr. Piper telling why that is the case for Dr. MacArthur, and Dr. MacArthur, why that’s the case for John Piper.

Piper: Oh, that’s not what I expected. You didn’t put that in the notes. That’s going to be fun. A twist. Let’s go for it.

MacArthur: I can give maybe a sophomoric answer to the question regarding John Piper. I think why that book meant so much to him was his life was revolutionized permanently by Jonathan Edwards. I don’t know a John Piper without Jonathan Edwards. This is what comes across to me and, obviously, I’m on the outside looking in. But you can’t shake this. I mean, last night, you were saying what you said 50 years ago. You can’t shake it. And somebody said, “What did you think?” and I said, “It was the best of the best of the best of John Piper.” Because it runs so deep. It’s in every fiber of his being. Everything in the Bible leads him to that pleasure. And I think God used Jonathan Edwards.

I mean, that’s all I can say, because the first thing you said last night is, “I’m Edwardsian,” by your own confession. That’s amazing with all the opportunities there are for us to be influenced by people. What was the Lord doing when he dropped Jonathan Edwards in you, in an irretrievable act you could never undo? I mean, you took Jonathan Edwards even beyond where Jonathan Edwards thought he could go. The awakening to those truths define him.

In my case and probably all of our cases, it took us longer to get on the bandwagon than it did you, even when you started it early on, saying, “This is Christian Hedonism.” I mean, you were double-clutching because you knew that sounded weird. But you won us over, John, through these years. Was that somewhat true?

Piper: Everything you just said was true. The last part, I’ll wait and see if it’s the case.

MacArthur: I can’t speak for everybody. But I’m in.

Piper: He’s already answered my half of the question by preaching the sermon he preached two nights ago. This was your theme from 40 years ago with The Gospel According to Jesus and the question, “Where’s obedience in the church today?” So, here’s my interpretation of why that took hold of him, gripped him, and held him. He’s preaching the same sermon now that he wrote in the book there. I wrote a review of that book. I couldn’t put that book down. I was so excited about it because of what I was fighting in those days, a kind of easy believism that we both considered rampant. And it’s just as rampant today. There are lots of unbelievers in the church.

What John saw were the radical words of Jesus, where he says things like, “If you don’t love me more than you love mother, father, son, or daughter, you’re not worthy of me” (see Matthew 10:37). Period. That’s just totally crazy radical, right? He is saying, “You just won’t be a Christian if you don’t love me.” And obedience flows from love. He says, “Why do you call me Lord, Lord, and not do what I say?” (see Luke 6:46). Lots of people are going to hear the word at the end and be shocked. John MacArthur saw all these radical words, and he looked out at the evangelical church, and he thought, “Do they read the same Bible I read? Do they hear the same gospel?”

So basically, that book argued that James 2 should be in the Bible. It’s not an epistle of straw. If your faith does not transform you into a person who loves other people and produces good works, it isn’t saving faith and, therefore, churches need to be confronted with the carnality that is dangerous to their souls. And that’s what I was dealing with. I’ve never considered myself to be a very effective evangelist, although I thrill with every story of anybody that gets saved, which I heard yesterday from one of you brothers. Thank you for that encouragement. But I’ve always felt myself talking to a church that doesn’t look saved, or churches that don’t look saved. Their Christianity is so lukewarm — which Jesus is going to spit out of his mouth — that I’ve wanted to do a Christian Hedonist kind of revival.

The relationship between the two books is this. When you published that and then I later published a book Future Grace and What Is Saving Faith?, I said, “All I’m doing is trying to complete what MacArthur is saying.” MacArthur is saying, “You must obey in order to have saving faith,” and I’m saying, “You know why that is, folks? Because saving faith is being satisfied in Jesus, and that changes everything.” That’s all it is. It’s hand in glove, fitting together.

Duncan: That’s good. Let’s continue to talk about preaching, and more specifically, about the act of preaching. I want you to think about encouraging these brothers in the grind of preaching — the continual, ever-present, burdensome joy of preaching the word of God to the people of God. How has your view of preaching changed since you were a young preacher? How do you think about preaching now? And maybe the question is, why do you still believe in expository preaching? And where did this commitment come from? After all these years and all these thousands of sermons, how has your view of preaching changed?

MacArthur: Well, that’s a simple question because it’s the approach by which you maximize the content of the Bible. If every word of God is pure, and if there is a milk aspect of truth, as Paul talks about, and a meat aspect of truth, that means you start somewhere and you keep going deeper. I would say now I probably love expository preaching more than I ever have, and I find it inexhaustible. By the time I get to Sunday, I could be dangerous if I didn’t preach. Do you understand that, John?

Piper: I would like to see you be dangerous.

MacArthur: I might say to my wife, “You might want to go away on Monday because you’re going to get a sermon.” It’s the inexhaustibility of Scripture — the depth and breadth and height and length. It’s the inexhaustible reality of Scripture. It reveals itself to me every single week. I feel like somebody on the shore of the Pacific Ocean with a bucketful of water. If you ask me, “Is that the ocean?” I would say, “No, it’s just one little, tiny part.” I could preach endless lifetimes and never exhaust the truth of Scripture. At the same time, expository preaching not only covers everything, but it goes in depth. It has to because you can’t get away with not explaining something. So, I love expository preaching.

One other thing that comes to mind, and I think about this a lot. I’m never trying to figure out what I’m going to say on Sunday because I’m progressing through a book, and everything is building on everything else. I wouldn’t know another way to preach, really.

Piper: The short way of saying that is you believe in expository preaching because God wrote a book.

MacArthur: Yeah.

Piper: I mean, just let it sink in. God gave us a book. What would you do? What else would you do but tell people what’s in the book? You don’t know anything. God knows everything. He’s totally smart. Just let it sink in, brothers. If you believe this, it is the word of the Creator of the universe. Why would you waste your time talking about anything else? That’s what he just said.

The other part of the question is about change. You’re asking two guys who probably, more than any other two people on the planet, haven’t changed anything. We don’t change. People ask me, “What have you changed since your theology formed?” and I say, “Yikes, I can’t think of anything.” But in regard to preaching, if I had to do it over again, I would try to be more intentional about combining careful, local, immediate, expository explanation of texts with doctrinal formation of the church. I don’t think I did that the way I would do it now. I want to do more of this.

Now, that’s dangerous to say because I know some of you may come out of confessional traditions, where you start with a system and you have to work to be expositionally faithful. And others of you start with expositional, immediate faithfulness, and you have to work to get to system and doctrine. I want to be somewhere in the middle because I think churches can listen to us do exposition and never form a framework of theology of their own without some help. That’s one change I’d probably make.

I wouldn’t necessarily preach theme sermons, like a whole series on predestination or a whole series on regeneration, though that would be great. I would do that. But, rather, as you’re going through texts and you bump into a word that’s just laden with doctrinal content, I probably would go into it more now than I would have back in the day. So, that’s one difference.

Another difference is that the actual delivery has changed in that I feel much more free to go off script, all the time. I feel the ability to look right into people’s eyes while I’m talking. That used to throw me for a loop in the first five years of preaching. If I looked at somebody, I’d lose my place. I couldn’t think. I think young preachers have a hard time being immediately, directly engaged with human beings.

Thirdly, as an older person, I feel more warranted to press into people’s consciences, even older people. I mean, a 30-year-old pastor with about one hundred 60-year-old people in his church is a little bit hesitant to get serious with them and press into their sins. I don’t care anymore. That’s one difference, I think. But in summary, where I land and where I would be happy to die tomorrow regarding preaching is that it is a combination of faithful, rigorous exposition of what’s really there, mingled with a passionate demonstration or exultation in the reality of what it’s talking about, mingled with in-your-face application to their consciences. Those three things are what I want to do when I preach.

MacArthur: It’s actually a little easier to do that on the internet.

Piper: It is?

MacArthur: It’s easier than to face the same people every week and do that. You have to come back next week, John.

Piper: You lose some and you win some, right?

Duncan: Here’s a little more about preaching. Titus 1:1–3 says,

Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, for the sake of the faith of God’s elect and their knowledge of the truth, which accords with godliness, in hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began and at the proper time manifested in his word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted by the command of God our Savior . . .

Let’s encourage these brothers in their preaching and how preaching triumphs. Talk to us about the triumph of preaching. How can you help them see that their preaching — which we’re able to forget our own sermons in a week’s time sometimes — has eternal significance and lasting, persevering power in it? Encourage the brothers that their preaching will triumph. Help them think about triumphant preaching.

Piper: Isaiah 55:10–11 says,

As the rain and the snow come down from heaven     and do not return there but water the earth,making it bring forth and sprout,     giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;     it shall not return to me empty,but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,     and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

That’s just an absolutely glorious promise that God doesn’t speak in vain. And the closer you can get to his word when your word sounds, the more confident you can be that this wasn’t wasted. It may look for a moment like it had little effect. It is never without effect if you’re faithful to God’s word. So, there’s a promise where he says, “I will cause my word to accomplish my purposes.” That’s what I say to myself over and over again when I step into the pulpit.

And I would say this: Lasting effect doesn’t come from homiletical cleverness, meaning acronyms or how this conference has all Ps. How you ever did that, I have no idea. I said, “That’s cool. How did they do that?” That has zero effect on the lasting nature of your sermons. You need to know that. And when you come up with an acronym and you use Cs in your sermon — like compassion, whatever, and wherever — that has zero effect on the lasting nature of your sermons.

That will help you remember his outline for about three days, but we’re talking about three million years. That’s all we care about. What will affect people in three million years in your sermon is whether they were born again and whether the Holy Spirit convicted them of a sin in their lives, and they killed it, and they walked in holiness until they saw Jesus. In other words, the lasting effect of preaching is the work of the Holy Spirit.

So, you do the best you can with your acronyms, and you do your best you can with stories, and you do your best you can with H.B. Charles’s amazing ability to put these little things together. You just say, “That’s great. How did you do that?” You do the best you can, and it holds people’s attention, and that’s good, but in the end, you’re talking about what’s going to be true in ten years. And the answer is only if they were born again and if some major mental structures in their life just turned 180 degrees, like the sovereignty of God, free will of man, regeneration, etc. These are massive alterations in their thinking. That’s what you’re after, and that’s the work of the Holy Spirit through a faithful rendering of his word.

MacArthur: I would agree with all that. I would simply say that effective preaching is a journey. You start somewhere and you’re going somewhere. John illustrated that last night. You told us where you were going to go. You were going to get us to pleasure and we bought into that, so we followed the journey. The four points, whatever you called them, weren’t the reality of the message; they were just the progression to get to the main point. I always think of an outline or any kind of structure as the necessary, logical chronology to get you to the main point. One of the things with preaching is people have to be willing to stay with you till the end because they know that they’re going to be given some precious reality if they’ll stay.

I think you handle the Scripture in a progressive way that keeps them involved in that journey. It could be mnemonic devices or whatever you use. Preaching is not just shooting out one idea and another idea and another idea and another idea and an emotional thing and a story. It’s going somewhere. It’s a crafted argument, and it has all the necessary devices to hold them to that. You have to shift and change and pace all of that. But if they’ll stay on the journey, they’ll learn eventually in your preaching that the finish is worth the trip.

Duncan: I think that’s what makes both of your preaching so similar is that it’s driven and logical and focused on the text. Though you sound different, when we have our seminarians listen to the same passage from John MacArthur and listen to the same passage from John Piper, the central truth is the same. It’s the same passage, it’s the same meaning, because that’s what Paul said. But the way you get there is different. John Piper moves a lot more than John MacArthur in the pulpit. But it’s driven by logic, right? Both of you are so fastidious and logical and movement-oriented toward, “This is the meaning of the text and how it needs to be brought into light and life.”

Talk a little bit about each other’s preaching. What is it that you see in MacArthur’s preaching that is of such preciousness to you? And what do you see, Dr. MacArthur, about John Piper’s preaching that you love?

Piper: I’m not going to say anything that we don’t all say. Dr. MacArthur’s preaching is incredibly clear. It is so clear. It doesn’t fumble around to get to the clear point. As I’m listening, I think, “He’s not wasting any words here. He’s not blowing smoke.”

And then, the second thing is I think, “That’s really there in the text. That’s really there. Look at that.” And people love that. I love that. I think, “Tell me what the text says. I want to know what God says.”

Third, he has the ability to relate the immediacy of the text to doctrinal concerns or cultural concerns without getting off on a tangent that gets you bogged down in excessive application, but rather you feel the force. You think, “That’s relevant. Right now in this situation, that’s relevant.” Those three things, at least, that strike me, attract me, and draw me in. I want to hear clarity. I want to see what’s really in the text. I want it to be relevant to my life in this culture right now.

And there’s just plain earnestness. A lot of preachers are playful. I mean, we all know one preacher who crashed and burned a while back, and he said, “The main model you should have are stand-up comedians.” That’s what he said. He said that should be the main model. He said, “Do you want to learn how to communicate? Watch stand-up comedians.” John MacArthur doesn’t watch many comedians.

MacArthur: And neither do you.

Piper: I don’t. I don’t even have a television.

MacArthur: I would say the same about John for the very same reason. He has clarity in giving the meaning of the text and the doctrinal implications. I like to think of it this way: Application is one thing and implication is something else. There may be a thousand applications, but there’s usually just a few implications that just are so pervasive it changes how you approach life.

John is a genius at the implication of a given text without saying, “This is what you do on Tuesday afternoon when this happens and this happens and this happens.” It’s the power of that implication drawn because you know the text said it, and you understand the bigger picture of the theology that undergirds that specific revelation. I want to feel the implication, I want to feel the burden of that text, and I want the people to feel that burden. I don’t want to over-define it on a practical level, lest I leave something out.

Duncan: What you just heard was not me trying to get them to compliment each other. I’m being serious. This is a good word for young preachers. And you’ve both poured your life into training men. Immature people are drawn to personality instead of truth. They’re of Paul, they’re of Cephas, they’re of MacArthur, or they’re of Piper. That was a master class for young preachers to learn what they have to prioritize. And it’s not style. It’s substance and truth and a focus on the text. And that’s what we’re so grateful for in you men and your impact in our lives because of that, and the model you have shown.

Piper: Here’s just one caution. The fact that I love to hear that kind of preaching is owing to the fact that I’m born again and have spiritual taste buds on my tongue. His preaching is going to alienate a lot of people and so is mine. Almost everybody in this room likes everybody, right? This is a nice group to be among. But you’re going to have churches where you preach like he does or like I do, and they will not hear it because they’re not thinking, “Give me more Bible. I want to hear more of the Bible.” That takes a spiritual mind. So, that’s why prayer, which H.B. reminded us of, is absolutely essential. We pray for our people to have ears to hear.

Duncan: Here’s a final question. Our culture idolizes the young. The Bible reveres the aged. Old age in the Bible is a gift from God; it’s a blessing attributed to divine favor. It’s a cause for honor, respect, and blessing. You both, if I could say it with all the force of what the Bible is saying, are old. And we love you. We love you old. At 78 and 84, you are modeling for all of us, if the Lord gives us that many breaths, what it looks like to age in a way that honors Christ. So, let’s talk about that for just a few more moments here. Talk about aging as a believer and as a pastor. How do you think about growing old, in your experience, to honor Christ and serve his church?

MacArthur: Well, I don’t know that I’ve created a paradigm in which to think about myself. I just do what I do. Old age has its issues, like putting on your socks and getting a longer shoehorn every year. But I don’t know if I even think about that. I’ll tell you what I do think about is, “Lord, please keep me faithful.” I just don’t want to say something somewhere or do something that would undo a lifetime of endeavoring to be faithful. I trust the Holy Spirit. I don’t fear. I’m not afraid to live my life. I trust the Spirit of God. I love the Lord and I love his word, but I’m not invincible.

The second thing is that I pray, “Lord, don’t let some people say things about me that aren’t true and that are destructive.” Because I don’t ever want to be in a position to have to defend myself because that’s so impossible. But I seek to take heed to myself and my doctrine and stay faithful. I pray, “Lord, protect me from my enemies who could undo so much if they were believed when they said things that weren’t true.”

Piper: So many things to say. That prayer, “hold me,” is something I pray. “He will hold me fast. He will hold me fast. For my Savior loves me so. He will hold me fast.” There’s no hope without it. Because if you think sanctification is progressive in the sense that there’s no battle after age 70 of walking with Jesus, you’re not thinking straight. The danger of the sins of lust, sloth, and doubt at age 78 is just as serious. When Paul said, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course,” he meant, “to the end, until they cut my throat because, on the way to the gallows, I could betray him” (see 2 Timothy 4:7). I mean, my view of eternal security, which is a Romans 8:30 kind, is it’s a community project and it is to be fought for. That’s the way God keeps you. He keeps you.

So, I just fully expect that as long as I have a brain, it has to be engaged in praying, “Keep me. Don’t let me do anything stupid to undermine the ministry. Don’t let me betray my wife. Don’t let me give up on prayer. Don’t let me become superficial. Don’t let me cave in to just watching videos every night. O God, protect me from the world and the worldliness that can creep into a 78-year-old heart.”

I don’t know if you thought this way, but I used to think that since sanctification is progressive, that my 30-year-old patience would be 40 years more patient now. It didn’t work. That might be just absolutely self-indicting for me to say, because progressive sanctification means you ought to be a more holy person at 78 than at 38, and it doesn’t feel quite like that. I’m an embattled soul. These arrows just keep flying, and you need the shield of faith and the sword of the Spirit every day. If you think you’re going to coast someday, you’re going to be destroyed, because there’s no coasting in this life.

“O God, protect me from the world and the worldliness that can creep into a 78-year-old heart.”

Here’s a caution. I know that we are going to get to the point where we can’t preach. I mean, would that we could die before we get there. But that’s up to God. We don’t believe in mercy killing. No matter what California or Oregon or Minnesota says, we don’t believe in that. God will decide if we have to sit in a nursing home and not have all our faculties. That’s going to come if we don’t die. And the question is, will we be able to be faithful? So, don’t hear this as a kind of triumphalism: “Yeah, strong old people!”

However, I sat under the ministry of Oswald Sanders at age 89. He was 89 and I was 50-something. And he said, “I’ve written a book a year since I was 70,” and I just thought, “Yes, that’s what I want to be like.” Now my new model is Thomas Sowell, who’s 93, right? When he turned 90, the interviewer asked him, “How is it that you’ve written a book every 18 months since you were 80?” So I said, “Great, life begins at 80.” I have two years to run up to it and then we take off.

The way that balances out with the fight is that you shouldn’t view aging as so embattled, so beleaguered, and so difficult with aging that you give up. The outer nature is wasting away. Believe that while you have life, you have ministry. I hate the American view of retirement. I think it’s totally unbiblical. I think it destroys souls. Ralph Winter used to say, “Men in America don’t die of old age; they die of retirement,” meaning, they lose heart. They lose purpose.

So, pastors, you don’t have to do like he does and stay in the pastorate forever. You don’t have to do that. That’s a good thing. That’s a good thing. I stopped at age 67. I’m not sure I should have. I don’t have total confidence about that. But I’ve tried to be useful. I’ve tried to be useful from 67 to 78. All that to say, be so reminded about the battle and be hopeful and optimistic and energetic about what God might call you to do between 65 and 85.

Duncan: This Q&A was not brought to you by AARP.

Piper: I have never responded to one of those 10,000 envelopes. Never.

MacArthur: Me neither.

Duncan: We’re well aware. We’re so grateful for God’s faithfulness on display in both of your lives. And this was a very fruitful, profitable hour. Thank you so much, brothers. Dr. MacArthur, will you pray for these men, and that God would be faithful in their ministries and lives?

MacArthur: Father, this has been such a refreshing hour together. In so many ways, our hearts have been warmed and even thrilled to feel the impulse of every heart beating in this room about ministry and preaching, so that they can embrace every thought, every answer that we tried to offer. It felt like we were giving water to their souls and strengthening them. That’s the way it came across in their exuberant response.

Lord, we ask that this might be used to raise this generation of pastors, these men who are right here, to a level of faithfulness and an endurance that will glorify and honor your name. We don’t want this to have just been a moment’s experience, as enjoyable as it was, but an experience that bears lasting power so that we’ll see a difference in the future. There are so many defectors, so many people who are superficial and shallow in their approach to ministry, and we need none of that. We need the best and the most dedicated and the most devout and the most faithful and the most powerful.

So, use this, Lord, by your Spirit in the life of everyone who’s here to make a notable, significant difference in the next decade and even beyond in the church. For your glory, we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.

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