We live between these two moments in history; Jesus has already ultimately defeated Satan, sin, and death, and yet they have not yet been destroyed. During this present age, Jesus wants us to spread his righteous rule over earth (Matt 6:33) THROUGH HIS POWER. The fact that this can only be done through his power was stressed by Jesus in the words that preceded his great commission: All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me, therefore—go and make disciples of the nations. Only IN CHRIST is there power to overcome the kingdom of darkness. 

Author Dave Murrow observes what anthropology has confirmed: “Warfare is still imprinted on the male psyche. Men love to watch war movies and read war novels. They play war games on computers. Polls show men always support military action more than women” (Why Men Hate Going to Church). Science just confirms the truth we are given in Genesis 2:15—that Adam is designed to shape and protect the garden. Since Adam and Eve’s sin brought Satan, sin, and destruction into the garden, all our efforts to shape our lives and culture in righteousness are opposed by this triumvirate. We must fight, in the power of Christ, for every inch of ground. Today we examine a powerful WEAPON for this fight: prayer. But viewing prayer as a weapon for fighting is probably NOT what most men think of prayer as being for. They see prayer as praise to God, confession to God, thankfulness to God, requesting God’s help for those grieving or having surgery. But rarely do we see prayer used the way Paul tells us in Eph 6”18 it is to be used: as an act of war. And when men understand this dimension of prayer, prayer moves from being a guilt-producing obligation to becoming a life-changing thrill! Could that happen in your prayer life? Yes, and that is our goal in this episode.
Behind the world and the flesh is an even deadlier enemy, one we rarely speak of and are much less ready to resist, the kingdom of darkness, which is to blame for most of the casualties around us and assaults against us. Paul said it this way, We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Paul reveals two vital implications of this reality 1) we must put on our spiritual armor—the belt of truth, etc. but secondly 2) we must PRAY. Eph 6 continues, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints (vs 18). Paul uses one of the words for prayer four times. Why is prayer such a vital part of combatting the spiritual forces of evil?
Our Prayer Power Is Only Grasped by Understanding Redemptive History
A.  Because humans are made to bear God’s image, God created humans to rule over a world using their mental capacity and creativity to develop the potential of the earth and all those living on it—causing everything to flourish. God left things “undeveloped” so man could exhibit God’s image in developing earth’s potential. The law of God was written on Adam and Eve’s hearts, to guide them to shape the world righteously in a way that pleased God. For them that moral law was summed up, “You may not eat of the fruit that is in the midst of the garden.”
B. When Adam and Eve ignored their conscience and rebelled against the High King by eating the fruit, Adam’s race lost the moral ability to shape the earth in a way that was consistent with God’s righteousness. SATAN, and SIN (along with sin’s consequence DEATH) began to rule Adam and Eve’s kingdom.
C. Adam and Eve’s descendants inherited that corrupt nature. Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned (Rom 5:12). There is nothing that any human can do to free the human race from sin’s enslavement of human nature.
D. God himself would have to come, invade human nature, and become a second Adam. So, God The Son, came into the world as Jesus the Messiah to “redeem” the new humanity and new earth from the destruction, power, and presence of sin.
 And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him (Col 2:13-15).
E. At the cross, Jesus, the second Adam overthrew the usurpers of Adam’s kingdom–Satan, sin, and death, restoring the throne of Adam’s kingdom to the new head of Adam’s race, namely King Jesus to spread the kingdom of God over earth from his position at the right hand of the Father. George Ladd explains,
The Kingdom of God is the redemptive reign of God dynamically active to establish his rule among men, and this Kingdom, which will appear as an apocalyptic act at the end of the age, has already come into human history in the person and mission of Jesus to overcome evil, to deliver men from its power, and to bring them into the blessings of God’s reign. The Kingdom of God involves two great moments: fulfillment within history, and consummation at the end of history. (The Presence of the Future).
F.  We live between these two moments in history; Jesus has already ultimately defeated Satan, sin, and death, and yet they have not yet been destroyed. During this present age, Jesus wants us to spread his righteous rule over earth (Matt 6:33) THROUGH HIS POWER. The fact that this can only be done through his power was stressed by Jesus in the words that preceded his great commission: All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me, therefore—go and make disciples of the nations. Only IN CHRIST is there power to overcome the kingdom of darkness. Ladd continues,
The kingdom in this age is not merely the abstract concept of God’s universal rule to which men must submit; it is rather a dynamic power at work among men….  Before the apocalyptic coming of God’s Kingdom and the final manifestation of his rule to bring in the new age, God has manifested his rule, his Kingdom to bring men in advance of the eschatological era the blessings of his redemptive reign.
G. Jesus’ defeat of Satan, sin and death at the cross, his resurrection, and then ascension bring about the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in a fuller way. On the day of Pentecost, Peter tells the crowds they are witnessing the fulfillment of Joel’s prophecy, And in the last days it shall be, God declares that I will pour out my Spirit (Acts 2:17). The primary work of the Holy Spirit reinforces the truth that Christ is establishing his kingdom of righteousness RIGHT NOW. Paul describes the role of the Holy Spirit in our lives:
Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh…. Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, division, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Gal 5:16-23).
Linking These Facts of Salvation History to PRAYER
Just as God left the earth undeveloped because he wants Adam to exercise dominion over the earth to develop its potential, much of Christ’s redemptive power for the new creation is waiting for us to access.
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In this world, Christians may often face earthly uncertainty. Who but God knows what tomorrow may bring? But our hope is secure because it is bound up in Christ, and we are secure in Him. Thus, we cherish the thought embodied in the hymn “A Debtor to Mercy Alone”: Yes, I to the end shall endure, as sure as the earnest is giv’n; more happy, but not more secure, the glorified spirits in heav’n. Because we are in Christ, in heaven we may be more happy than we are right now, but we will not be any more secure. We are in Christ, and we cannot be more secure than that.

The lives of Christians are filled with all kinds of blessings. Some of those blessings are unique and extraordinary—particularly our salvation. Ordinary blessings come to us as well, and many of them are easily taken for granted. In fact, some of them come to us so routinely that we mistakenly assume that they will always be there. Things such as home, health, food, and clothing are always there, at least for many of us. Greater blessings such as family and solid relationships can also easily be taken for granted. As the old saying goes and is too often true, “Familiarity breeds contempt.”

Stability in the smaller matters of life is a blessing that God bestows on many of His people. And though some of God’s people enjoy the blessings of stability more than others, God does not promise that these things will always be there, at least not in the way that we have known them. Even the smallest things in life are gifts from God’s hand. Learning to be content with little—even to rejoice in it—is one of the true marks of Christian maturity. It is also a signal to the world around us that we are exactly what the Bible calls us—a pilgrim people who are called to live by faith in an uncertain world.
Few stories illustrate this point better than the pilgrimage of Abraham. In Genesis 12, God calls Abraham (then called Abram) in a rather abrupt way: God’s first word to Abram is not “Hi there” or “How’s it going?” but rather “Go.” The first thing that God says to Abram is a direct command—a command to go. Few commentaries (including the book of Hebrews) overlook the fact that God effectively told Abram to go before He told him where to go. It’s as if God said, “Get up, start walking, and I will tell you where we are going along the way.” What God called Abram to was clear: He wanted Abram to walk by faith and not by sight. But where God was calling him to go was equally unclear.
Such is the nature of the life of faith. God often calls us, moves us, destabilizes us, if you will—never to injure or perplex us but always to refine us for His glory and our good. This was true for Abraham, and it is true for all the sons and daughters of Abraham who follow after him by faith.

Abraham’s willingness to follow God is even more greatly appreciated if we think about not just the life that was before him but the life that was behind him as well. Abraham may have had no idea where he was going at the beginning of Genesis 12, but he certainly knew where he was from. Abraham had enjoyed a life of stability in Ur. He had a people and place. He belonged somewhere. There were people who knew him and people whom he knew. There were trees and buildings with which he was familiar, and there were people who knew his story because they were part of it. Abraham surely had some measure of relational depth and community in the land that God called him to leave. In short, Abraham had stability.
God, however, had a different plan for Abraham. Rather than settle down into a life of comfort and ease, Abraham would prove to be the prototypical pilgrim.

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Rome has repented nothing since 1517 and has only changed tactics in attempting to bring us under her tyranny. As with the Anglicans in 1977, so with many evangelicals today. These men have forgotten that false teachers come in sheep’s clothing (Matt. 7:15); that bad company ruins good morals (1 Cor. 15:33); that Rome and the East have buried the gospel in human tradition (Matt. 15:1-6) and idolatry; that God curses those that alter the gospel (Gal. 1:6-9); and so many other things that we might say unto them: “about this we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing” (Heb. 5:12).

I have before me a recently recovered sermon by Martyn Lloyd Jones from 1977, titled “The Sword and the Song.” Speaking before the British Evangelical Council, he addressed then recent developments among evangelicals in Britain. Regrettably, they sound remarkably like trends among some professing evangelicals today, albeit ones that are by no means limited to Britain. I recommend you listen to the entire sermon at the MLJ Trust and ponder its similarity to present circumstances.
He says, for example, that at the Evangelical Anglican Congress in April, 1977, there was a man who declared that the Reformation was the greatest tragedy in the history of the church (32:40). Similar things have been said recently. In 2018 Regent College, which describes itself as “both evangelical and orthodox,” saw its then J.I. Packer Professor of Theology, Hans Boersma,[1] state, “I think the Reformation is not something to celebrate but is primarily something that we should lament—that it is primarily a tragedy.”
Elsewhere Lloyd Jones quotes the then bishop of Leicester saying that “throughout the first 40 or 50 years of my life, one was accustomed to a fairly sharp divide between the evangelical and the catholic movements in our church,” but that “during these recent years these lines of demarcation have become blurred” (34:20). That also sounds familiar. In the Center for Classical Theology’s magazine Credo, one can read things like the following.
In a book review of Piercing the Clouds: Lectio Divina and Preparation for Ministry (which book is part of a Romanist press’s “Catholic Theological Formation Series”), the reviewer says:
The contributors argue not only that historical-grammatical and devotional readings of Scripture can happen together but that they should happen. Especially in the spiritual formation of budding Catholic priests. Drawing on the writings of the early church, medieval monks, and Pope Benedict XVI, they offer six essays building their case. . . there is plenty within these pages to be relevant for seminarians across ecclesial boundaries. (emphasis mine)
The reviewer, a member of a non-denominational church in Tennessee, sees no problem with Protestants using a book that is explicitly meant for training Roman priests to train their own seminarians. He later links the two explicitly, saying “what the church needs today are Catholic priests—and Protestant clergy—who are molded by exegetically-informed lectio.”[2] Err, no, we don’t need any Roman priests, so-called, and every man who serves in that capacity should promptly repent and begin to serve God in truth, laying aside the falsehoods of that communion to unite with God’s people as they are gathered in the churches of the Reformation.
But to my point here, that which was the case in the 1970s Anglican church is also the case more generally now. Credo is primarily run by Baptists associated with Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Yet they have no qualms commending books that draw on writings by monks or the pope, nor in giving a platform to people like Boersma – whom they awarded with their “best theological retrieval” book award for 2023 – or members of Roman orders like the Dominicans (as here), nor, for that matter, women who are ordained in Protestant denominations renowned rather for their apostasy and decline than for any virtue, such as Jennifer McNutt of the Presbyterian Church in the USA. McNutt is also a professor at Wheaton College’s School of Biblical and Theological Studies, whose self-profession of evangelical faith needs no elaboration, but which is similarly suspect, not least since they employ two women professors who are also ordained in the Anglican Church in North America, one of whom seems to harbor some Romish sentiments about Mary (see my article here for an elaboration). Again, as in Lloyd Jones’s day, the “lines of demarcation seem to have become blurred.”
Or again, Lloyd Jones says that there was a difference in notions of scripture’s nature and authority in 1977 in comparison to the past, that people were arguing:
It’s not enough to have a translation in English, they say, of the Hebrew and the Greek. Oh no, you must have much more. You must know the cultural milieu, the cultural setting in which the scriptures were written. And they actually go so far as to say this, that you cannot understand the scriptures unless you know something about this cultural setting. Indeed, one of the leaders of this school on the continent of Europe has actually said this, that it is virtually impossible for any men to understand even the New Testament today, because we can never put ourselves into the cultural position and the thought forms of the people of the first century. (40:18)
That sounds like the need to ‘contextualize’ everything some people among us espouse, and reminds me of N.T. Wright’s argument that our previous perspective on Paul (esp. viz. justification) is wrong because we fail to understand the framework of his thought. Lloyd Jones helpfully contrasts this with “what the reformers called the perspicuity of the scriptures” (41:52), and notes that its logical outcome is a complete reliance on the perspective of scholars. In that vein he elsewhere notes the shift in notions about authority:
There has been this great change in the attitude of evangelicals. Towards what? Well, towards tradition. Not only scripture, but tradition. The old position of the Roman Catholic Church that you don’t merely assert the supremacy of the scriptures only, not sola scriptura, [but] tradition also as defined by them. (25:29)
These days it seems that every time one turns about he is being assailed with talk of “The Great Tradition.” There is a contemporary movement of what is called theological retrieval or ressourcement, and outlets like Credo and its associated contributors are at the center of it in the evangelical world. This movement says that this “Great Tradition” (which they always capitalize) that we ought to retrieve includes the ancient creeds and confessions, the catholic doctrine which the church has always believed, and that it provides the necessary framework to properly understand said creeds and confessions, and to be faithful adherents to the faith.
I have written about this elsewhere, including how the thing has its origin with Rome and her contemporary ecumenism, of how it includes Platonism, and of how it leads people to make some bizarre claims (regarding the aforementioned, Rome-sympathizing Boersma as Reformed; arguing that the Eastern communions’ notion of ‘deification’ is native to Reformed theology). It has also led to the present obsession with Aquinas, an idolater, whose fanatical partisans have portrayed him and the scholastics more generally in glowing terms as essential to reviving contemporary theology. Boersma actually has a chapter called “No Plato, No Scripture” in his book Five Things Theologians Wish Biblical Scholars Knew, and Credo used the same formula to say “no Plato, no Augustine” in the introduction to its issue on Platonism:
Perceiving the philosophical truth within Platonism, the Great Tradition believed Platonism’s metaphysical commitments could serve Christianity. Consider Augustine, for example, whose conversion to Christianity may have been an impossibility apart from Platonism.
Their broad argument is that the “Great Tradition” is necessary to understand both scripture and the confessions and to escape the stifling intellectual climate of ‘modernity’ that skews our understanding of everything. Enter Craig Carter, whose Substack is called “The Great Tradition” and who is producing a trilogy of “Great Tradition” books, the second of which won the best “Theological Studies” book award from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary’s Journal in 2021. At Creedo he has an article, “The Metaphysics Behind the Reformed Confessions,” that argues this way, speaking of “recovering the riches of seventeenth-century continental and English pastors and theologians who utilized the metaphysics of the Great Tradition to do theology and write and expound the great confessions of Protestantism.”
Compare Lloyd Jones again: “tradition, as defined by them.” Yet this is what leading contemporary Protestant theologians are enamored of just now. Just the other day Credo posted a video titled “Why we love the Bible (and read it with the Great Tradition).” They say that to read scripture for oneself apart from this tradition is to be a ‘biblicist,’ their favorite bogeyman. They say that to be a biblicist is to become a sectarian separated from the church, to risk becoming anti-intellectual and falling into all manner of heresy like anti-Trinitarian and Socinian errors. And so the guardrail to prevent that, on their view, is this “Great Tradition.”
Now I do not consider myself a biblicist, nor propose to enter fully into that debate, but I do say that this bears a frightful similarity to what Lloyd Jones observed in his own day. Leading Protestant theologians are taking their intellectual cues from Rome and falling all over themselves to hobnob with her scholars. Look at what he said of some of the evangelical Anglicans in 1977 on this point:
They’re actually proclaiming and boasting of the fact that their attitude to the Roman church and the Greek Orthodox church and the Russian Orthodox church has undergone an entire change. (32:20)
And:
We are not prepared to recognize all who call themselves Christians as being Christians. This is what these people are doing. They assume that if a man says, I am a Christian and he belongs to a church, it doesn’t matter what he believes, doesn’t matter what he denies. (45:05)
And again, reading what was said by one of its leaders at the birth of the United Reformed Church:[3]
This is a congregationalist speaking, a successor of the men ejected in 1662.[4] “No one,” he says, “who was present at the inauguration of the United Reformed Church in Westminster Abbey is likely to forget the moment when the archbishop of Canterbury, the [Roman] cardinal archbishop of Westminster, and the moderator of the Free Church Federal Council pledged themselves to pursue together that fuller unity of which the URC was a small foretaste.” (17:20)
Union among Protestants was just the first step in a larger movement for union among all professing believers, hence why the leaders of the Anglicans and English Romanists were present.
A similar ecumenical strain marks certain corners of the contemporary Protestant theological academy. They frequently commend members of Rome and the East and give them platforms and awards. Lewis Ayres, professor of Catholic and Historical Theology at Durham University in England, has lectured at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. Credo editor Matthew Barrett’s The Reformation as Renewal: Retrieving the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church bears on its jacket the good words of the Roman professor Matthew Levering, a central figure in the ressourcement movement, who says Barrett’s “argument may offer promising ecumenical potential.” Imagine that, a book on the Reformation, and the Romans themselves laud it and say it offers “ecumenical potential”![5] In closing, we might well ask with Lloyd Jones:
What has produced this change? Is there something new? Has there been some new discovery? The answer is, there is nothing new at all. There has been no new discovery.
So it is with us. Rome has repented nothing since 1517 and has only changed tactics in attempting to bring us under her tyranny. As with the Anglicans in 1977, so with many evangelicals today. These men have forgotten that false teachers come in sheep’s clothing (Matt. 7:15); that bad company ruins good morals (1 Cor. 15:33); that Rome and the East have buried the gospel in human tradition (Matt. 15:1-6) and idolatry; that God curses those that alter the gospel (Gal. 1:6-9);[6] and so many other things that we might say unto them: “about this we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing” (Heb. 5:12). Heartbreaking, all of it, and we should pray God will grant repentance (2 Tim. 2:25) and raise up witnesses (Matt. 9:35-38), lest he remove the church from our lands (Rev. 2:5) and give us over to unbelief and falsehood (2 Thess 2:11) in punishment for such compromise with the false teaching of Rome and the East (Rev. 2:14-16; 20-23).
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church, Five Forks/Simpsonville (Greenville Co.), SC. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not of necessity reflect those of his church or its leadership or other members. He welcomes comments at the email address provided with his name. He is also author of Reflections on the Word: Essays in Protestant Scriptural Contemplation. 
[1] Boersma is ordained in the Anglican Church in North America
[2] This is a slight reworking of what I have written elsewhere on this topic: https://tomhervey.substack.com/p/across-the-tiber-and-into-the-cloister#_ftn1
[3] Not to be mistaken with the more recent United Reformed Churches in North America, which bears a more consistently Reformed character, having largely formed out of the Christian Reformed Church in response to scripturally unfaithful developments in her midst in the 1990s.
[4] A reference to the Great Ejection of 1662, in which 2,000 Puritans were cast from their pulpits by the English government.
[5] Boersma similarly honored J.I. Packer as “a great Puritan,” not because, like the original Puritans, he worked for a pure doctrine, worship, and church that was purified of Romish and other errors, but because of his “ecumenical conviction” that “drove him to irenic dialogue with Catholics and Orthodox in the 1990s” and  recognized such as  “fellow Christians who upheld the church’s Great Tradition.”
[6] As many do when they say things like “the gospel is indispensable for addressing the complex social, cultural, and political challenges facing the nation,” thus contradicting Jesus’ claim that his “kingdom is not of this world” (Jn. 18:36). If his kingdom is not of this world, how could the gospel of that kingdom be concerned with worldly cares like political and social challenges? Only if one distorts the meaning of that gospel and the nature of that kingdom can it be so.

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If we fear God our Father we will tremble with delight at his incomprehensible love. We will stagger at the thought that we are his adopted children. We will long to share in his holiness by embracing his loving yet painful discipline that trains us.

“I am a child of God, God is my Father; heaven is my home; every day is one day nearer. My Savior is my brother; every Christian is my brother [or sister] too.” This is my favourite sentence in J. I. Packer’s Knowing God. Packer persuasively argues that being adopted as a child of God is the highest blessing that God gives us, higher even than justification. When we are justified, we know God as our Judge, but when we are adopted, we know God as our Father. To be declared right with the Judge is incredible. When Martin Luther finally understood justification, he thought he had entered “paradise itself through open gates!” But to know God as our Father is to be loved by the one who gives us paradise!
John writes in his first letter: “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 Jn 3:1). This should stagger us, both intellectually and emotionally. And it should stir us to holiness.
Fearful Holiness
Augustine draws a helpful distinction between two types of fear:
He who has a filial fear of the Lord, tries to do his Will. Different is the fear of servants; servants fear for the penalty, children fear for love of the father. We are children of God; let us fear Him from the sweetness of charity, not from the bitterness of dread.
Christians do not need to fear the condemnation of God: he has poured out his wrath on his Son in our place on the Cross. But we can still grieve the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of sonship. We don’t want to do that. We don’t want to disappoint him. Rather, we want to become like our Father—holy. Peter writes:
As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance. But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy.” Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear. (1 Pet 1:14–17)
Like a fire, the fear of the Lord consumes evil desires and fuels holiness.[1]
Such fear changes the way that we pray.
Filial Fear and Prayer
Filial fear does not produce an outward hypocritical show of reverential religion like the Pharisees Jesus condemns.
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This is the art of the Christian life: reconciling what needs to be remembered with what needs to be forgotten—concerning both our faithful God and our sinful selves. Jesus and his disciples point us to this reconciliation of remembering and forgetting at the Last Supper and the days that follow Jesus’s death. As Jesus—a real-life flesh and blood reminder of the Passover Lamb—instructed his disciples as they took the bread and the cup.

In February of this year, I was diagnosed with a rare type of brain cancer. I am, quite literally, one in a million. A seizure brought me to my knees and was the catalyst for the discovery. A brain biopsy and a craniotomy followed in the days and months after. I went from being independent and in the prime of my life, just on the cusp of turning forty, to being dependent, unable to drive, living with family, and staring down the face of a life-altering diagnosis that is presently incurable. My tumor, well over two inches wide, sits in the right frontal lobe of my brain near the motor control strip, impairing most of the movement on the left side of my body. When I woke up from the craniotomy in April, I could not so much as wiggle my left toes or lift my left hand off the hospital bed. Even two months later, I didn’t have the strength to open a Ziploc baggie or the motor control to type with both hands.
Looking back on the months following the surgery, which were filled with countless rehab and doctor’s appointments, my memories of that time are like the Bermuda Triangle—memories went in, but most have never come out. I’ve sent out mental search parties to see if I can find the wreckage but all I come back with are remnants of debris—hazy, vague, and tattered around the edges. A doctor’s appointment here. A hard conversation with my family there. And then nothing but vast expanses of open water and tears in between. So much has vanished from the recesses of my brain, maybe to never surface again.
Perhaps it is more of a gift of grace than I realize that those memories haven’t surfaced and remain at the bottom of the mental ocean. Even the prophet Isaiah commends God’s people to forget the former things, “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert” (Isa.43:18–19). As harsh at it may seem, maybe cancer is the “new thing” springing forth in my life, if only I would have eyes to perceive it as such rather than rail against it. I hold fast to the truth that he is making a way in this wilderness season, and maybe it is for the better some memories from those months are lost, perhaps forever. Maybe the mental search parties can quit working overtime.
On the other hand, some of my memories are very vivid. I remember my first seizure well, as the type of seizures I experience impact only one side of my body, and I never lose consciousness. I had a string of four seizures in the space of two weeks in late May, and I can recall every one of them. Why does my brain remember some memories, but forget others? There’s obviously a science behind what our brains do and do not remember, especially concerning trauma, and people far smarter than I can unpack that elsewhere. I’m more interested in how all this ties into our spiritual ability to remember and forget.
There’s a long list of things I’ve been asking of God since February, like healing, strength, coordination, and recovery of cognition. However, in more recent months, one prayer has chiefly risen to the surface, one which echoes bits of Isaiah 43: “Help me remember what needs to be remembered and help me forget what needs to be forgotten.”
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These words ended the opening paragraph of J. Gresham Machen’s 1923 classic Christianity and Liberalism. Fighting may be defensive or it may involve attack. When today’s news media wish to portray political rhetoric or reactions in a negative light, they often say that one side or group (nearly always the conservative side) has pounced on some person, thing, or issue. An Associated Press story from 1932 shows that neither the shallow sensationalizing of “religious” news nor the pejorative use of the term “fundamentalist” is anything new. They may as well have said MACHEN POUNCES:

“Stirs Churchmen”…and the pot?

DENVER, May 30, (A.P.) … An attack on policies and government of the Presbyterian Church of the U.S.A. by one of its outstanding leaders exploded a bombshell today in the ranks of the churchmen gathered here.
The attack was made by Dr. J. Gresham Machen of Philadelphia, recognized as the guiding spirit of the church’s fundamentalist faction.
Speaking before the congregation of First Avenue Presbyterian Church in Denver yesterday, Dr. Machen said “the present condition of the Presbyterian Church is an offense against God.”
(Philadelphia Inquirer, Tues. May 31. 1932)
There’s little context to show why Machen felt put upon by a decade of liberalizing declension1 in the northern mainline church. A casual reader might have assumed Machen was just some angry crank. That a sermon preached in the run-up to a presbyterian general assembly could make national news shows how much things have changed in the USA—the mainline still seemed to run the “Christian” nation of America in 1932.
Well, Machen did feel put upon and so “put it on” the moderate-liberal elites who ran the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. You may, like us, question the advisability of (church) political sermons on the Lord’s Day, but times were different. Apparently, such things were more usual 90-100 years ago. There were “really important things” about which men were most definitely fighting. Here’s how the local paper gleefully covered the pugilistic pastor:
The chief event of Sunday, however, was the appearance of Dr. Machen in the pulpit of the First Avenue Presbyterian Church of Denver, whose pastor is Dr. Thomas Murray, Dr. Machen preached two powerful sermons. He was quoted in Monday morning’s Rocky Mountain News under the following headlines: “Presbyterian Heads Flayed by Churchman … Dr. J. Gresham Machen Fiercely Assails Attitude of Modernists … Directs Suspicion … Asserts Unfaithfulness Is Being Concealed in Reign of Secrecy … Bitter Attack on the Presbyterian Church … “ One of the paragraphs of the news Item read: “Scarcely any branch of the church’s administrative bodies escaped the withering fire of his criticism. In harsh language he assailed the actions of men high in the Councils of the Church.” The whole effect of the manner in which this story was handled was to make it appear that Dr. Machen’s message was other in spirit and content than it was. It was not bitter-unless the truth is bitter. It certainly was not harsh, but it was unpleasant to many because it brought out into public view the very dangerous condition of the Church, which many people want to ignore, ostrich-like. His words were a needful and salutary purgative. In order that the readers of CHRISTIANITY TODAY may know the exact form in which quotations of Dr. Machen’s sermon were handed to the press, the text is reproduced on Page 4. It is an undeniable fact that, on Monday morning as newsboys at the door of the Auditorium shouted out “Dr. Machen makes bitter attack on Presbyterian Church,” a number of tempers went up to the boiling point.2
Major ecclesial figures sometimes called press conferences in 1932…and reporters even came. Sermon summaries were provided to the papers, and we have a friendlier and fuller picture from a publication with which Machen was associated—the “old” Christianity Today (as referenced in the above quote):
Dr. Machen’s Denver Sermon
FOR the information of my readers we are reproducing the exact text of news-summary of Dr. Machen’s sermon in the First A venue Presbyterian Church of Denver, during the recent assembly. This is the only form in which the sermon was released to the press.

Speaking personally, I  judge that at times it may be necessary for me to vote for a better pro-choice candidate in order to avoid the election of a worse one and the dire consequences that would ensue. Pro-life stalwart Steven Mosher agrees, arguing that only a Trump victory—unlikely without the support of pro-lifers—gives hope of preserving pro-life gains at the federal level and influencing the President (see here). However, were I to cast such a vote, I would feel compelled to contact the candidate, explain that I am voting for him in spite of his position on life, and urge him to reconsider it, seeing that it is dangerously wrong, both for him and the nation.

Before I reply to the question above, a little history is in order.
In the mid-19th century most American abolitionists had found a home in the Whig Party. But in 1852 the party leadership included a pro-slavery plank in its platform. The abolitionists bolted, and just four years later the Whig party exited American history, stage-left. It was replaced by a Republican Party dedicated to this fundamental principle: Self-evidently, it is wrong, at all times and in every place, for one person to kidnap, sell, buy, or enslave another.
It is just this stubborn adherence to principle that, for the last 50 years, has drawn millions of pro-life Americans into the GOP, which, until now, has held firmly to a similar principle: Self-evidently, it is wrong, at all times and in every place, for anyone to murder a pre-born human being by abortion.
Imagine, then, our shock and dismay, as we who are pro-life Americans watched President Trump and much of the GOP reject the historic GOP position on abortion and the sanctity of human life.
The litany of the President’s statements to this effect is depressingly familiar. He has told us that the SCOTUS got it right: abortion is a 10th Amendment issue properly left to the states and the (diverse and ever-shifting) will of the voters.1 Though he personally opposes late term abortions, he is fine with letting blue states permit them, even up to birth. He thinks current abortion law in Florida (and therefore some 15 other states) is too restrictive (i.e., illegal 6 weeks after conception, when the baby’s heart is now beting). He has pledged not to sign any federal law restricting abortion. He states that his administration will be “great for reproductive rights”. Professing love for wanted babies, he is keen on in-vitro fertilization, an enterprise fraught with moral hazard and inevitable manslaughter; as for unwanted babies, they are on their own. Perhaps most disturbingly, he and his surrogates surreptitiously marginalized pro-life members of the GOP Platform Committee in order to eviscerate the party’s deeply principled, highly detailed, and longstanding pro-life plank. Alas, all too many Republicans, fearing election loss, have fallen in line.
But might this much-lamented pivot to a pro-choice stance on abortion lead—Whig-like—to the death of the GOP? For the following four reasons, I would answer yes.
1. It forfeits the blessing of God and courts his judgment. Christians believe that righteousness exalts a nation, but that sin is a shame to any people (Proverbs 14:34). They believe that God will honor those who honor him, especially if they do so by defending the helpless victims of oppression and violence (1 Samuel 2:30; Proverbs 24:11-12). They believe that the primary purpose of government is to promulgate and administer God’s law (Romans 13), and that his law includes, as an especially high priority, solemn sanctions against murder (Genesis 9:5-7: Exodus 20:13). They also believe that abortion is a form of murder, that deep-down everyone knows it, and that when any citizen, candidate, judge, party, legislature, or nation suppresses such knowledge in unrighteousness and willfully murders the innocent, it is courting the judgment of God (Romans 1).
But one needn’t be a Christian to see all this. Thomas Jefferson, a deist who committed the new nation to the self-evident “laws of nature and nature’s God,” solemnly warned Americans that God is just, and that his justice will not sleep forever. Surely events have proven him right. Observe the (post-Roe) decay of our national character, culture, unity, institutions, public policy, economy, military readiness, and standing in the world. Is this not the hand of Almighty God, withdrawing his favor? But in view of 60 million deaths by abortion, one is compelled to ask: What has kept God’s hand from destroying us altogether? Could it be, in good part, a pro-life movement and a pro-life GOP that stood strong? If so, what might happen if they cave?
2. It betrays long-standing principles articulated in the Declaration, the Constitution, and the 2020 GOP platform: The latter stated:
The Constitution’s guarantee that no one can “be deprived of life, liberty or property” deliberately echoes the Declaration of Independence’s proclamation that “all” are “endowed by their Creator” with the inalienable right to life.  
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Specifically, Westminster affirms that the day and hour of the second coming are unknown but that believers ought to watch and pray expectantly for it, believing that it is near. The WCF thereby makes no allowance for modern—that is, partial-preterist—postmillennialism. In the final portion of its concluding chapter, “Of the Last Judgment,” the Confession delivers a clear vision of eschatological expectancy: so will he [Christ] have that day unknown to men, that they may shake off all carnal security, and be always watchful, because they know not at what hour the Lord will come; and may be ever prepared to say, Come Lord Jesus, come quickly, Amen. —The Westminster Confession of Faith 33.3

Three and a half decades ago, Reformed theologian Richard Gaffin cautioned the Calvinist community that “postmillennialism deprives the church of the imminent expectation of Christ’s return and so undermines the quality of watchfulness that is incumbent on the church.”1 Postmillennialist Keith Mathison, rather than heeding this pastoral warning, countered that Gaffin’s words “demonstrate how influential dispensational thinking has become,” since “the doctrine of the imminent return of the Lord is one of the ‘great fundamentals of Dispensationalism.’”2 According to Mathison, Gaffin’s teaching on the imminence (nearness) of the second coming “is not a historically Reformed doctrine” and “the use of this argument by a Reformed theologian is ironic.”3[3]
The irony, however, lies elsewhere.
The Westminster Confession of Faith (1646)—along with its confessional offspring, The Savoy Declaration of Faith and Order (1658) and The Second London Baptist Confession of Faith (1689)—affirms the doctrine of Christ’s imminent or near return (to be distinguished somewhat from the notion of an any-moment return4). Specifically, Westminster affirms that the day and hour of the second coming are unknown but that believers ought to watch and pray expectantly for it, believing that it is near. The WCF thereby makes no allowance for modern—that is, partial-preterist—postmillennialism. In the final portion of its concluding chapter, “Of the Last Judgment,” the Confession delivers a clear vision of eschatological expectancy:
so will he [Christ] have that day unknown to men, that they may shake off all carnal security, and be always watchful, because they know not at what hour the Lord will come; and may be ever prepared to say, Come Lord Jesus, come quickly, Amen.
—The Westminster Confession of Faith 33.3
The verbiage of the prescribed prayer at the end of WCF 33.3 (“Come Lord Jesus, come quickly, Amen”) derives from the King James Version of Revelation 22:20. Note well that Revelation 22:20 is not a mere prooftext appended to WCF 33.3. Rather, this verse’s fervent plea for the Lord to come back soon is an integral component of the Confession’s original text.5
Westminster Excludes the Partial-Preterist Interpretation of Revelation 22:20
WCF 33.3 requires pastors who subscribe to it to confess that the near coming of the Lord Jesus depicted in Revelation 22:20 refers to his second advent. Moreover, the Confession here enjoins subscribing pastors to pray in accordance with its futurist interpretation of Revelation 22:20, a verse that by all accounts portrays the same coming prophesied in 1:7, 22:7, and 22:12. Thus, the Confession rules out postmillennialism’s partial-preterist belief that Revelation 22:20 (along with 1:7, 22:7, and 22:12) refers to a supposed “judgment-coming” of Jesus in AD 70, a view that historian Francis Gumerlock could not find in any source predating the modern era.6[6]
Kenneth Gentry defends this recent interpretation in his new commentary on the Apocalypse, not least in his remarks on Revelation 22:20: “Jesus is here referring to his judgment-coming in AD 70. The whole book of Revelation has been emphasizing the Jewish oppression of Christians and promising Christ’s judgment-coming against Israel.”7 Gentry contends that the prayer in Revelation 22:20 pertained to “the beleaguered first-century Christians” and that the vindication they longed and prayed for “came in the AD 70 judgment.”8
In his comments on Revelation 22, after stating that “one of the neglected themes of the book is that the Lord is coming quickly” (22:7, 12, 20), Doug Wilson similarly strays from traditional exegesis and confessional eschatology. He claims that these predictions of Christ’s imminent coming were “fulfilled at that time [the first century]” and denies that this prophesied event could have been “20 centuries or more in coming to pass.”9 Greg Bahnsen likewise argues in his essay “Understanding the Book of Revelation” that “the main body of teaching in this book,” including each mention of eschatological nearness “at the very beginning and at the very end of the book,” relates to “John’s own day”—specifically to the time when “the Gentiles trampled Jerusalem down in A. D. 70”—rather than to “some future day.”10 David Chilton agrees that “the theme of the book” of Revelation “is not the Second Coming of Christ, but rather the Coming of Christ in judgment upon Israel.”11
Gary North and Gary DeMar, citing works on the Apocalypse by Gentry and Chilton, address the petition in Revelation 22:20 and WCF 33.3 with a striking contra-confessional assertion: “This is surely not a prayer that is appropriate today.”12 They write,
“Come quickly, Lord Jesus” … is legitimate only when the one who prays it is willing to add this justification for his prayer: “Because your church has completed her assigned task faithfully (Matthew 28:18–20), and your kingdom has become manifest to many formerly lost souls.” This is surely not a prayer that is appropriate today. (It was appropriate for John because he was praying for the covenantal coming of Jesus Christ, manifested by destruction of the Old Covenant order. His prayer was answered within a few months: the destruction of Jerusalem.)13[13]
Those who subscribe to the partial-preterist interpretation of Revelation 22:20 (along with 1:7, 22:7, and 22:12), which may include amillennialists influenced by modern postmillennialism, find themselves in disagreement with the eschatology of Westminster.
Westminster Affirms the Historic Doctrine of the Imminent Second Coming
WCF 33.3 compels pastors who subscribe to it to “be always watchful” for the near return of Christ and to pray fervently that he will “come quickly,” that is, “come soon.” Consequently, the Confession challenges the viewpoint of modern postmillennialists, who deny that the language of eschatological imminence pervading the NT relates to the parousia (the second coming).
Of course, the old-school postmillennialists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, including Jonathan Edwards and the Old Princetonians, also believed that deep time lies ahead. They envisioned enough time for a future multi-generational worldwide golden era before the second advent. This belief is the hallmark of postmillennialism. Nevertheless, these eschatological forebears of modern postmillennialism did not apply a preterist framework to the NT’s teaching on the Lord’s near coming, particularly as it is taught in Revelation. Rather, they upheld Scripture’s and Westminster’s doctrine of the impending second coming (more on this in the next section).
Modern postmillennialists, on the other hand, contest the doctrine of Christ’s near return. They, unlike their forerunners, apply a preterist framework to the dozens of texts (such as Rev. 22:20) that have traditionally supported this doctrine. They also argue with more specificity and zeal than their predecessors for the necessity of deep future time. Chilton declares, “This world has tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of years of increasing godliness ahead of it, before the Second Coming of Christ.”14 James Jordan elaborates provocatively,
Human history will last for at least 100,000 years, I am confident. One thousand generations is 30,000 years, and the word [“thousands” in Exod 20:6] is plural. Three thousand generations is 90,000 years, but why should the plural only imply three? If Jesus returns before that time, Satan can say, “Well, You said You would show Your mercy to thousands of generations, but You did not do so. You ended history after only a few hundred generations.”15
In his interpretation of Jesus’s repeated prophecy in Revelation 22, “I come quickly” or “I am coming soon” (vv. 7, 12, 20), Chilton acknowledges “the apostolic expectation of an imminent Coming of Christ,” yet he insists, contrary to the Confession, that this expectation concerns “not the Second Coming” but “His first-century Coming.”16 Mathison similarly states that the prophetic utterances in Revelation 22:7, 12, 20 “do not support” “the doctrine of Christ’s imminent return,” since they “refer to Christ’s first-century coming in judgment on Jerusalem, not to his personal return at the end of the age.”17
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Written by Dennis E. Johnson |
Thursday, September 19, 2024
While Hebrews urges us to fix our hearts and hopes on Jesus, who sits at God’s right hand in heaven (Heb. 12:1–2), our preacher is vividly aware of the faith-threatening challenges that confront his hearers on this sin-sick earth. The original congregation had endured the loss of social acceptance, property, physical safety, and freedom (Heb. 10:32–34; 13:3, 11–14). In the face of ongoing pressure to return to tangible and familiar old covenant rites, they needed encouragement to endure in their trust in Christ (Heb. 10:35–12:13). The trials of Israel in the wilderness, between exodus from slavery and entrance into God’s rest, soberly foreshadowed the trajectory of the new covenant church from slavery to sin and our final entrance into God’s rest (Heb. 3–4).

The Only Mediator
The theology of the book of Hebrews is distinct in that it draws together so many of the greatest truths revealed in God’s word to address the deepest of human needs. Hebrews introduces us to the only mediator who can reconcile sinful human beings to the infinitely holy God. Specifically, Hebrews displays the superiority of Jesus’s priestly ministry and his once-for-all sacrifice of himself, which cleanses our consciences and opens access to the presence of God. Hebrews orients us to the flow of God’s agenda for history, alerting us to how his covenantal bond with his people structures the outworking of his redemptive plan. As Hebrews unveils the connection between redemptive accomplishment and revelatory completion, this book shows us how to interpret the Old Testament as believers living in “these last days” in which God has spoken, climactically, in his Son. To Christians experiencing misgivings in the face of social rejection, financial loss, and physical threat, Hebrews offers the remedy of robust theology, calling them to “consider Jesus, the apostle and high priest of our confession” (Heb. 3:1) and to look to Jesus, “the founder and perfecter of faith” (Heb. 12:2).
The Letter That Is a Sermon
In our New Testament, Hebrews is grouped among other “general epistles” (James, 1 and 2 Peter, 1–3 John, and Jude). In fact, it is neither “general” nor, precisely, an “epistle.” It is addressed to a specific congregation whose history and present situation the author knows well and to whom he hopes to return (Heb. 6:9–12; 10:32–36; 13:23). Unlike an epistle, it opens not with the names of author and audience nor with preliminary blessing and prayer but with an elegant prologue that draws us into the theme: the superiority of the Son in whom God has spoken in “these last days” (Heb. 1:1–4). (Admittedly, Hebrews concludes as apostolic epistles often do, with assorted exhortations, prayer requests, travel plans, and benedictions [Heb. 13].)
The author calls Hebrews a “word of exhortation” (Heb. 13:22)—the term used by a synagogue leader when, after Scriptures were read, he invited Paul to present a discourse (a sermon) (Acts 13:15). Paul’s “word of exhortation” explained Old Testament texts and issued an exhortation to trust in Jesus (Acts 13:15–40). Although Acts includes digests of the apostles’ evangelistic sermons to the unbelieving audiences, Hebrews is the only post-Pentecost sermon to a Christian congregation in the New Testament.
Consistent with its character as “exhortation,” Hebrews interweaves indicative and imperative throughout. Repeatedly, robust doctrinal truth issues in heart-searching application: Since the Son is better than angels (Heb. 1:4–14), we must pay attention to the message of salvation spoken in the Son, which is even greater than the law spoken through angels (Heb. 2:1–4). Since the Son is better than Moses (Heb. 3:1–6), we must hear and heed his voice (Heb. 3:7–4:13). Since Jesus’s priesthood is superior to Aaron’s (Heb. 7) and his sacrifice cleanses more thoroughly and permanently than animals’ blood (Heb. 9:13–10:18), we must draw near to God’s throne of grace in confidence and reverent worship (Heb. 4:14–16; 10:19–39). Paul’s epistles typically “frontload” doctrinal instruction (for example, Rom. 1–11, Eph. 1–3), after which he draws ethical implications from gospel truths (Rom. 12–15, Eph. 4–6). Hebrews, one the other hand, applies each aspect of Jesus’s superiority—in revelation, in reconciliation, as the champion who leads us into God’s rest—with step-by-step in exhortations, all along the way.
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The Puritan Thomas Brooks would preach about the Great London Fire and the collapse of St. Paul’s, calling his hearers to faith in Christ. He would write, “London’s sufferings should warn others to take heed of London’s sins. London’s conflagration should warn others to take head of London’s abominations. It should warn others to stand and wonder at the patience, long-suffering, gentleness, and goodness of God towards them who have deserved as hard things from the hand of God, as London has felt… It should warn others to search their hearts and try their ways and break off their sins and turn to the Lord, lest His anger should break forth in flames of fire against them.

Today, September 6, in 1666, Old Saint Paul’s Cathedral in London burned to the ground in the Great London Fire.
Old St. Paul’s was a centerpiece of Puritan outreach and the filth and worldliness within its courtyard was frequently alluded to in the preaching of the day. Booksellers peddled the latest Puritan works while other wares were also peddled: from vanity faire to the common whore; St. Paul’s Walk had everything that your heart could desire.
Old St. Paul’s construction began in 1087, following an earlier London Fire. As early as 604 a church was built on that location. One Pre-Norman scholar claimed that a Temple to Diana was toppled to begin the first St. Paul’s Church. The massive church yard hosted rental booths that extended for hundreds of yards.
One scholar said, “St. Paul’s was the very heart of the city [of London].” A pastor at the time said that St. Paul’s offered everything from “the south alley for popery and usury, to the north for simony, and the horse fair in the midst for all kinds of bargains, meetings, brawling, murders, conspiracies, and the front for ordinary payment of money, as well known to all men as the beggar knows his bush.”
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