But because Mark’s is one of the four Gospels, this is one of the ways we should think about Jesus’s beginning. He had a royal herald smooth the way before him and let everyone know of his greatness (Mark 1:7). Jesus was anointed for his kingly mission with water and the Spirit, and he was declared the beloved Son of God, the king (Mark 1:11). He was victorious over the devil in the wilderness and ministered to by the angels (Mark 1:13).

As the calendar flips to December, many Christian churches turn to the birth story of Jesus in their teaching and preaching. And though there are four Gospels, one is far underrepresented from the pulpit during this season.
Matthew and Luke both contain the narratives about Jesus’s birth, so the early chapters of these Gospels are in heavy rotation for sermons. We hear from the opening verses of John as well, as the lyrical description of Jesus as the Word made flesh practically jumps off the page. All the while, Mark’s Gospel seems to stay closed.
Beginnings Matter
Beginnings matter, particularly the beginnings of books of the Bible. There the author has the chance to frame their work and set up their argument.
For the sake of this article, let’s refer to “Act 1” of each gospel as all that precedes the beginning of Jesus’s public ministry. What does Act 1 of each gospel look like?
In Matthew, Act 1 stretches through Matt 4:11, a total of 76 verses. There, we read Jesus’s genealogy (Matt 1:1–17), his birth (Matt 1:18–25), the visit of the magi (Matt 2:1–12), the flight to Egypt to avoid Herod’s murderous decree (Matt 2:13–23), John preparing the way for Jesus (Matt 3:1–12), Jesus’s baptism (Matt 3:13–17), and Jesus’s temptation by Satan (Matt 4:1-11). Along the way, a careful reader will notice just how much Matthew’s narrative is driven by fulfilling Old Testament prophecies.
Act 1 of Luke is the longest of all, lasting until Luke 4:13, a total of 183 verses. After his dedication (Luke 1:1–4), Luke writes about the predictions of John’s (Luke 1:5–25) and Jesus’s (Luke 1:26–38) births, Mary’s visit to Elizabeth and song of praise (Luke 1:39–56), John’s birth and his father’s prophecy (Luke 1:67–80), Jesus’s birth and the immediate reaction (Luke 2:1–21), Jesus’s presentation at the temple (Luke 2:22–40), his twelve-year-old venture to the temple (Luke 2:41–52), John preparing the way for Jesus (Luke 3:1–22), Jesus’s genealogy (Luke 3:23–38), and Jesus’s temptation by Satan (Luke 4:1–13).
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A life of reverence is a life of increasing surrender to God’s will. Even our reverence comes to us on God’s terms, not ours. We do not instantaneously become creatures who “do nothing except to God’s glory.” He made us creatures who grow — slowly, with intentionality, over time.

Older women . . . are to be reverent in behavior. (Titus 2:3)
Though I wasn’t aware of it at the time, as a young girl I was always watching the older women in our small local church. I remember them — their faces, their names, their lives.
Without being overly serious, they were serious about their walk with God. They weren’t public speakers, but when they spoke, others listened. Though they didn’t draw attention to themselves, my attention was drawn to their grace and beauty, a beauty that transcended current fashion and hair trends. In many ways, they were just ordinary women, but there was something about them, a sense of depth and solidity that I remember to this day. In Titus 2:3, Paul calls this something reverence.
What is reverence? Would you be able to define it for a third grader — or for your neighbor or coworker? I’m guessing that you (like me) might falter, because reverence seems to have gone the way of the wall-mounted telephone. Reverence demands a fitting response to the true nature of things — whether persons, circumstances, or natural wonders. Someone who is reverent respects the respectful, laughs at the laughable, mourns over the mournful, and glorifies the glorious.
In Titus 2, Paul expects of the older women conduct that fits a holy person — conduct that corresponds to reality, to their redemption and sanctification in Christ. In a word, reverence.
Redeemed for Reverence
Such reverence may seem obsolete in our day, in part due to our society’s strong resistance to any sense of givenness — of reality — to which we must conform. Humans claim the right to determine their purpose, their gender, their identity, their authority, their morality. At the heart level, this is the creature’s rebellion against the Creator God, who alone determines reality.
Since the fall, humankind has bent toward irreverence: demanding self-rule and autonomy, “seeking to transcend creatureliness and become one’s own origin and one’s own end,” as John Webster puts it (Holiness, 84). Such rebellion is as unfitting to reality as a gold ring in a pig’s snout or a king drunk in the morning (Proverbs 11:22; Ecclesiastes 10:16–17). Restoration to reverent living as a creature in renewed fellowship with the Creator requires nothing less than a work of redemption.
And that is exactly the reason Paul gives for the reverent behavior of older women in Titus 2. Reverence is in accord with sound doctrine (2:1) — in other words, with the gospel. “The grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people” (2:11), and the right response is that we “renounce ungodliness” and “live . . . godly lives in the present age” (2:12). Reverence fits redemption like laughter fits a good joke, or lemonade fits a humid summer afternoon, or books fit a library. It is as beautiful as expensive ointment poured out on Jesus’s feet (Matthew 26:10).
What sets godly women apart, then, is that their lives correspond to the reality that Jesus reigns and that he is their saving Lord. They trust the Trustworthy One. They serve the Sovereign One.
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Donald Macleod’s beautiful new book, Therefore the Truth I Speak, is an engaging look at Scottish theology that mines the past and brings it into the present. Part church history, part historical theology, this book introduces some fascinating figures and events.

Biographical Sketch of the Author
Donald Macleod was Principal of the Free Church of Scotland College in Edinburgh until his retirement in 2010. He also served as Pastor of Kilmallie Free Church for 6 years. His other works include The Problem of Preaching and Compel Them to Come In: Calvinism and the Free Offer of the Gospel.
Introduction
Donald Macleod’s wonderful new book, Therefore the Truth I Speak: Scottish Theology 1500–1700 began as a series of lectures he gave from 2001 to 2004 while teaching at Free Church College, which later became Edinburgh Theological Seminary (7). The book is composed of 13 chapters followed by a name and subject index. The author acknowledges that the book covers the narrow subject of Scottish Christianity from the 16th to 18th centuries, and yet in the process, it also addresses timeless concerns like the authority of Scripture, justification by faith alone, and what faithful Christian witness looks like. In other words, the book is about a specific time and place but also deals with vital subjects that every Christian in every age should concern themselves with.
Scottish Theologians
What were the distinctives of Scottish Christianity from 1500 to 1700? Macleod, firmly within the Presbyterian tradition, lays out what he sees as the two primary governing convictions that his Scottish theological forefathers held to (11). First, church polity should follow the apostolic model as much as possible. Second, the health of churches and their effectiveness in missions will increase when the apostolic model is followed.
The author shows appreciation for the historians who came before him, while also taking issue with those like T .F. Torrance, who he says have parted company with the stream of “Federal Calvinism” that characterized the Scottish theologians of that era (12–13). Macleod’s sympathies are with those historians who recognized diversity on issues of baptism and church governance, while also not denying the “remarkable consensus” grounded in Scripture and expressed in the great ecumenical creeds and Reformed confessions (13–14).
Macleod ably disproves the stereotype of Scottish theologians as uneducated dunces. These men were focused on bringing the gospel to the ordinary church goer, not on impressing the academy (16). The earliest Scottish Reformer was Patrick Hamilton, born in 1504. Hamilton was one of many who became inspired and impassioned by Luther’s rediscovery of justification by faith alone (19–20). His zeal to reform the church and irresistible desire to return to his Scottish homeland resulted in his arrest by the established church. In 1528, he was martyred by being slowly burned at the stake. Hamilton left readers his Patrick’s Places, in which he affirmed the teaching that works of the law cannot be fulfilled apart from divine grace (20). He also viewed the law’s purpose as the revealing of sin.
Echoing Luther (not to mention Paul), Hamilton wrote that “faith (alone) makes a man a member of Christ, an inheritor of heaven, and a servant of God (21).” Saving faith grasps Christ alone as its object. Like Calvin before him, Hamilton would say that faith alone justifies, and yet the faith which justifies is not alone (22). When the established church contemplated more executions by burning to quell the spread of Reformed doctrine, John Lindsay counseled against the idea, saying that “the smoke of Mr. Patrick Hamilton hath infected as many as it blew upon (22).”
Rutherford’s Lex, Rex and the American Revolution
The Lex, Rex was a political manifesto by Samuel Rutherford in response to John Maxwell’s Royalist treatise (239). He argued that when human society organizes into a form of government, by common grace they are affirming natural law. Rutherford, contra the monarchy of his day, believed that Romans 13 does not teach an absolute, de facto obedience to whomever happened to be in power at any given time. A lawful magistrate is God’s minister for the commonwealth’s good, such that unjust, murderous magistrates who persecute the church are no longer ministers of God and should be resisted (241). Rutherford drew from Scripture, the Old Testament in particular, as well as natural law or what the Reformed called “the light of nature (240).” The impact of the Lex, Rex was far reaching and it enabled Scottish Presbyterians to defend their views during the English Civil War.
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