Persecution does not eradicate Christianity. Instead, the more Christians suffer, the stronger the “Church” is wherever that is. On the other hand, where Christianity carries with it little, if any, resistance, the “Church” becomes weak, cold, dead, and nothing more than empty religiosity. Christianity is strong when it is turning the world upside down. It is weak when it is in power and institutionalized. 

 24 Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I do my share on behalf of His body, which is the church, in filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions. 25 Of this church I was made a minister according to the stewardship from God bestowed on me for your benefit, so that I might fully carry out the preaching of the word of God, 26 that is, the mystery which has been hidden from the past ages and generations, but has now been manifested to His saints, 27 to whom God willed to make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. Colossians 1:24-27 (NASB)
In this post let us reexamine the role of persecution and suffering in the Gospel. Also, we must agree that God is very actively awakening His people who are in the Scarlet Woman. Persecution comes to Christians who are truly obedient to their Lord. When they obey Him they do not practice empty religion, but, instead, they pursue holiness, abide in Christ, and are Spirit-led, hence their lives are Christlike and this does three things. It brings the wrath of the enemy down on them in various forms of persecution. Their suffering glorifies God and it fills up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions.
If you haven’t read Foxes Book of Martyrs, I suggest that you do. Why does the world hate the Gospel? It hates it because it is not of the world and cannot be discerned by people who are in their sins and are of the flesh. Only by the Holy Spirit working in the hearts of people can they understand spiritual things correctly. In the United States, at least right now, we can proclaim our faith and live Christian lives and not have to worry about people killing us. However, in most of the World, its okay to be religious, but it isn’t okay to be a Christian who shares their faith. Why is there a difference? Why is it that Christians in China are arrested and tortured, but in the United States, we don’t? The worst that happens to us here for being active in our faith is disdain or ridicule or being falsely accused. I contend that the reason we don’t suffer as they do in China is for two reasons. God has given us an environment in the United States where Christianity is not seen as a threat. The other reason is that we don’t actively proclaim the gospel and live godly lives, as we should. We don’t live out what we proclaim. The reason  Christians in other countries are tortured and killed is that they actively proclaim the gospel no matter that they are in the midst of people who hate Christianity. Their ministries bear fruit. Those who instigate these types of attacks hope to intimidate Christians. However, that is not how God operates.
Our God is sovereign. The suffering and death of believers for the sake of the gospel is always horrible, but their lives are poured out before the Lord as an acceptable offering.
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Jesus is the God of Jacob and that great king who reigns from Zion. This is why the people of God assemble together to “praise the Lord” and offer “hallelujahs” unto our creator, redeemer and covenant Lord. Jesus accomplishes all of things through his word and through his sacraments. Therefore, let us do as the Psalmist exhorts us to do. Let us “praise the Lord!” Let us “praise the Lord as long as we live.” Let us “sing praises to our God while we have our being.” For “the Lord will reign forever, the God of Zion for all generations.”

Background to the 146th Psalm
My guess is that almost everyone reading this can recite the 23rd Psalm from memory. Yet can you recite Psalm 146 from memory? Probably not. Although not as well known as the 23rd Psalm, Psalm 146 is certainly worthy of our time and study. Consider the fact that Christians frequently use expressions like “praise the Lord,” and “hallelujah.” Where do these expressions come from and why are they used? These expressions come from biblical passages like Psalm 146. Like many other Americans, Christians are prone to place their trust in great men (politicians, military heroes, people of fame, wealth, and power), because such people can exercise influence upon over lives and our ways of thinking. But in Psalm 146, we are reminded not to place our trust in anyone or anything other than God, who is the creator and sustainer of all things. And then it is our Lord Jesus who alludes to this Psalm when beginning his messianic mission. So there is much here for us to consider in the 146th Psalm.
Psalm 146 is representative of an important group of five Psalms at the end of the Psalter, the so-called Hallel Psalms (146-150). As we will see, Psalm 146 is a joyful Psalm of praise. Together with Psalms 147-150, these five Psalms bring the fifth Book of the Psalms (Psalms 107-150), as well as the entire Psalter, to a close. The five Hallel Psalms are classified as “Psalms of praise,” and are used as daily prayers in most synagogues. Collectively these Hallel Psalms reflect a sense of joy and delight and although not as well-known as other Psalms (such as Psalm 23) this group of Psalms does include Psalm 149 (in which we are urged to “sing a new song”) and Psalm 150 (with its famous refrain, “let everything that has breath praise the Lord”).
Psalms of Praise
There are Psalms written by David, Moses, and the sons of Korah. Psalms are used in the temple (for worship), royal Psalms (with messianic implications), wisdom Psalms, and a Psalm such as the well-known 23rd Psalm, often classified as a “Psalm of trust.” Here, we consider another genre (or form) of Psalms–a Psalm of Praise. This Psalm has been used as the text for several German hymns, and Isaac Watts’ hymn “I’ll Praise My Maker While I’ve Breath” is also based upon this Psalm. The 146th Psalm is a Psalm which directs us to offer praise to the Lord, as well as to exercise great care in choosing in whom we place our trust.
As a so-called Psalm of Praise (and part of a section of the Psalter devoted to praise), this Psalm is often called a Song of Zion (because of the reference to Mount Zion, in v. 10). It was almost certainly composed for use in the temple.[1] As with other Psalms (especially those used for worship in the temple), the authorship of Psalm 146 is unknown. Ancient Jewish tradition identifies Psalm 146 and 147 as coming from prophets Haggai and Zechariah, and therefore to the fact that these Psalms were written for use in the temple after Israel returned from the exile in Babylon, making these Psalms among the most recently written in the Psalter. There is nothing in these Psalms which ties them to either of these prophets, so it is probably best to consider this Psalm’s authorship as undetermined (unknown).[2]
An Exhortation to Praise the Lord in Private and in Public
Psalm 146 opens (vv. 1-2) and concludes (v. 10b) with an exhortation for the people of God to praise the Lord (individuals who assemble together for corporate worship). Verses 3-4 call for us to renounce our dependency upon kings and princes, while verses 5-6 remind us that God is creator. In verses 7-9 we read of our sustainer and covenant Lord, who is the great king (v. 10a).[3] There is also a progression in this group of five Hallel Psalms from the individual’s praise of God (Psalm 146:1), to the people of God offering him praise collectively (Psalm 147:1, 12), with their praises ultimately extending to the heaven and earth (Psalm 148:1, 7). These five Psalms wrap up the Psalter by affirming that God’s word goes out to the end of the earth (Psalm 149) until everything that has breath praises the Lord (Psalm 150).[4] This arrangement of these five Psalms is certainly not accidental.
We now turn to the text of Psalm 146. In the opening two verses we read, “Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, O my soul! I will praise the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God while I have my being.” The Psalm opens with the call to “Praise the Lord” (the Hebrew is hallelujah). This call is an imperative (a command) to praise the Lord which is followed by a heart-felt desire to obey the command– “I will praise the Lord as long as I live.” The idea seems to be that each one of us as individuals offers our heart-felt praises (hallelujahs) to the Lord. Although each one of us praise the Lord, in the Psalm, God’s people come together and form a chorus (i.e., public worship), of people who praise the Lord all our lives.
To put it another way, as the people of God we are called together to praise the Lord and together we form an assembly (all those individuals who praise the Lord from the heart). We are to do so throughout the course of their lives. The point is that our praise of God is not a momentary thing–“oh yeah, I praised the Lord once,” but such praise to be the pattern of our lives (“as long as I live,” “while I have my being” I will praise the Lord). It is not a stretch to say that the contemporary application is that we not be Easter and Christmas Christians, but we make both the individual and corporate praise of God an important and frequent part of our lives. In other words, corporate Lord’s Day worship is the appropriate place for the people of God to praise our Lord and offer up to him our hallelujahs.
Princes Are Necessary, but Cannot Save Us From Sin
This call to praise the Lord has important ramifications. Because we are to “praise the Lord” all our lives, we are not free to direct such heart-felt praise to anyone else. In verses 3-4 the Psalmist tells us, “put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation. When this breath departs, he returns to the earth; on that very day his plans perish.” While we are to praise the Lord, we are not to praise kings or princes. Yet as soon as we say this, some clarification is needed because elsewhere Scripture seems to say otherwise. As we read in 1 Peter 2:17, “honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor.” In 1 Timothy 2:1-3, Paul, like Peter, writes,

…first of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior.

The idea expressed by the Psalmist is not that princes are kings are unimportant, and therefore not to be honored. Kings and princes (or even presidents and prime ministers) are raised up by God, and play vital roles in the civil kingdom where they exercise legitimate rule and authority. Because this is the case, Paul says, we are to honor our leaders, pray for them (which should be done every Lord’s day in the pastoral prayer), and even obey them as long as what they command does not conflict with the word of God. But the Psalmist says we are not to trust them or praise them in the same manner in which we trust and pray to God. A Christian can serve the king, the prince, or the president, but not Der Fuhrer or the Caesar who claims divine rights and prerogatives for themselves. Such a ruler is an Antichrist.
The Psalmist’s point is that all rulers in the civil kingdom remain sinners, and despite their earthly prestige and power stand before God on the day of judgment just as the rest of us do when we die. This is why in Psalm 118:8-9 we read, “it is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes.” We have no business trusting (having faith) in those men and women whom God has made, rather than trust in their creator. In chapter 35:2, Isaiah makes the point that on the day of judgment “the fool will no more be called noble, nor the scoundrel said to be honorable.” Great men and women are often not so great. In Psalm 116:11, we are reminded of the grim reality that “all mankind are liars.” Because they too are fallen, kings and queens cannot save us from the guilt and power of sin. Eisenhower, Churchill, and Stalin “saved us” in a sense from the tyranny of men like Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo. Yet, because all of these men are sinners in need of a savior, not one of them could do a single thing about the guilt and power of sin. Salvation from sin can only come as a gracious gift from the Lord, not from any king or prince.
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For my part I think it more likely that the WCF’s authors got their idea of the soul returning unto God directly from Scripture itself, and that neither Scripture nor their exegesis and systematization of it was formed in light of Neoplatonic tradition, be it knowingly or not.

Previously I discussed how Carl Mosser mistakenly implied that Rome-leaning Hans Boersma is Reformed in an article at Credo that purports to discuss Reformed notions of the beatific vision. I noted that such a blunder invites skepticism as to the rest of his claims, and one who considers those claims will find such skepticism justified. Mosser quotes Westminster Seminary professor R. Carlton Wynne’s suggestion that Boersma’s writings should be shunned “as harboring unbiblical Neoplatonic influences” and says that “these claims are curious since The Westminster Confession . . . alludes to the originally Neoplatonic notion that all things come from God (exitus) and return to him (reditus).” He quotes Westminster Confession (WCF) 32.1 as proof, which says that “[men’s] souls (which neither die nor sleep), having an immortal subsistence, immediately return to God who gave them.” Mosser omits WCF 32.1’s Scripture proofs, however, which show that “immediately return to God who gave them” is a direct reference to Ecc. 12:7 (“the spirit shall return unto God who gave it”).  With that his argument falls apart, for it shows that Westminster’s notion of the intermediate state is derived directly from Scripture, not Neoplatonism.
Now in defense of Mosser one could say that Ecclesiastes itself was written late and under Platonic influences, though I think it highly unlikely that there is a convincing amount of evidence to support such a claim (it would take much) and doubt very strongly that such a thing was the view of most of the Westminster assemblymen, or even yet widely-heard in the pre-Enlightenment and pre-scriptural criticism era of the 1600s. But those are questions of canon and historical thought that are not quickly answered, and the burden should be on the one so inclined to make such a claim.
Alternatively, one could say that the WCF’s authors were recipients of a theology that had been influenced by Neoplatonism, and that, as such, they were recipients of Neoplatonic notions which they then confessed publicly. This seems to be Mosser’s point, as well as the view that Credo has been promoting as of late: there is a tradition – or rather, ‘Great Tradition’ – of common belief that permeates all of Christian history, and while it appeals to Scripture for proof of its doctrines, the tradition itself is often logically prior to its scriptural proofs. Hence Chapter Two of Boersma’s Five Things Theologians Wish Biblical Scholars Knew is titled “No Plato, No Scripture,” and the ‘Great Tradition’ elsewhere lauds Platonism, which obviously exists apart from Scripture. On this view, in writing a confession the Westminster Assembly began with certain notions of the intermediate state that were derived from the Great Tradition that spanned back through the medievals and into the early Church, and they then turned to Scripture to buttress those notions and exegeted it in light of them.
Mosser asserts further that “the [Westminster] divines’ individual writings” show that they “confessed the hope of beatific vision in continuity with their patristic and medieval forbears,” and he appeals as proof to “many approving citations on the topic from the Cappadocian Fathers, Augustine, Bernard of Clairvaux, Aquinas, Bonaventure and other figures sometimes alleged to have been unduly influenced by Neoplatonism.” That last sentence throws a pall over his whole argument. He begins by confidently asserting Neoplatonic concepts in the Westminster Standards, only to turn and say that the earlier figures whom he asserts Westminster’s divines approvingly quoted were only “sometimes alleged to have been unduly influenced by Neoplatonism.” Well might a reader think with some exasperation: ‘So were they actually Neoplatonic or only allegedly so?’
In any event, Mosser does not provide any examples of such “approving citations” as he confidently asserts abound in the Westminster divines’ individual writings in such plenitude, and so I say we let Mosser and other eager-for-tradition contributors at Credo prove that the Westminster Assembly’s systematization of doctrine was formed under Neoplatonic influences if they can. For my part I think it more likely that the WCF’s authors got their idea of the soul returning unto God directly from Scripture itself, and that neither Scripture nor their exegesis and systematization of it was formed in light of Neoplatonic tradition, be it knowingly or not. And if any is inclined to differ I invite him to read the WCF itself, with its 4,000 Scripture references and precisely zero references to Platonism, and attempt to make the case.
Having made an unconvincing case that the Westminster Standards are Neoplatonic in their confession of the believer’s experience of God after death, Mosser then formulates a doctrine of the beatific vision that is centered upon the concept of deification. He does not clearly define deification, though in passing (and in accord with wider usage) he links it to the Eastern concept of theosis, which holds that it is the believer’s end “to become a god” and “to be like God Himself” by union with him and participation in his nature. It is noteworthy that Mosser regards deification as essential to the beatific vision: quoting Boersma, he says that “historically, the doctrine of the beatific vision went hand in hand with theologies of deification,” and he elsewhere argues that “Reformed theologians who eschewed deification tended to also neglect the beatific vision or, at most, affirm a minimalist version of the doctrine.” He is so bold as to say that “deification is – and always has been – an ecumenical doctrine of the universal church,” and he mentions several prominent reformers in claiming that it is a historic Reformed teaching.
Of these reformers he only attempts an explanation with two. He begins with Zwingli, and his suggestion that Zwingli taught deification is not convincing. The first paragraph simply describes a version of the beatific vision that does not in itself mention anything about deification, but which emphasizes rather the perfect and enduring satisfaction that the vision of God will entail. Mosser states that “Zwingli’s description of the eternal state probably reflects the influence of Gregory of Nyssa who referred to this idea as epectasis” (emphasis mine). Two sentences later he says that “Zwingli’s description of epectasis expounds a doctrine of deification that he earlier inscribed in the first formal statement of Reformed theology, the Sixty-Seven Articles (1523).” From “probably reflects” to a definite “description of epectasis” in two sentences, and that on the basis of an assumed identity between Nyssa’s notion of epektasis (as it is more commonly spelled) and Zwingli’s statement that “the good which we shall enjoy is infinite and the infinite cannot be exhausted.” Note that Zwingli’s statement does not mention us being deified or perpetually increased in our capacity for good, but rather emphasizes God’s goodness being infinite. That seems to be the opposite of what is in view in Gregory’s epektasis.
Mosser quotes Article XIII of Zwingli’s Sixty Seven Articles as a more direct proof of Zwingli’s doctrine of deification: “Where this (the head) is hearkened to one learns clearly and plainly the will of God, and man is attracted by his spirit to him and changed into him.” There is a complication, however, in that the phrase that purportedly teaches deification comes from a single translation of Zwingli’s works that was published in 1901. The OPC and Reformation Heritage Books have more recently translated Article XIII differently, with “changed into him” appearing as “converted to him” and “transformed into his likeness,” respectively.
As a general rule a single obscure statement is not a good ground to build a major doctrine upon, especially where its meaning is translated differently by others. Mosser therefore appeals to a monograph called The Defense of the Reformed Faith, in which we find Zwingli’s exposition of his Sixty Seven Articles and with it some explicit mention of deification (“that a person is drawn to God by God’s Spirit and deified, becomes quite clear from Scripture”). There are a few things to note here. One, The Defense translates Article XIII as ending “transformed into his likeness” – it is in fact the translation Reformation Heritage Books uses above. Two, here too we are at the mercy of a single translator, who says that Zwingli’s original German “implies deification,” but who does not further explain why. Three, the only German translations of the Sixty Seven Articles I was able to find online give different versions of the text of Article XIII than are mentioned in The Defense, thus suggesting there are multiple variations of the text of Article XIII extant. Four, Mosser himself references a German phrase (in inn verwandlet) when he discusses Zwingli’s exposition of Article XIII, and cites The Defense, page 57 as his source. That German phrase does not appear on page 57 of The Defense: no German phrase does, and the only allusion to the original German is in two footnotes on page 58, the second of which is irrelevant here, and the first of which contains a different German phrase (und in got verwandlet) than Mosser uses. It is not clear then where Mosser is getting his German text, for it is not from The Defense.
Lastly, the orthodoxy of the translator of The Defense, E.J. Furcha, is in question, for he contributed to a festschrift that included a piece titled “Comparing Dharmakaya Buddha and God: Not an Exercise in Emptiness.” Furcha’s own contribution (“The Paradoxon as Hermeneutical Principle: the Case of Sebastian Franck, 1499-1542”) also invites suspicion, for Furcha regards Franck positively (“Franck’s Paradoxa is a masterpiece”), and seems to do so for reasons that we would disapprove (Franck is an “independent thinker who seeks to integrate expressions of a living Christian faith with valid manifestations of such faith in non-Christian religions”). We might be forgiven for suspecting that someone who could write that last sentence is perhaps likely to interpret a somewhat obscure phrase in a more liberal manner.
Mosser also searches for support for deification in Calvin’s writings, and here too his case is unconvincing. Some of Calvin’s statements simply sound like descriptions of a beatific vision, not the deifying one that Mosser promotes (e.g. “[Calvin] says ‘participation in the glory of God’ will exalt the bodies of departed saints ‘above nature’”). Mosser substitutes his own meanings of French and Latin phrases for those of the original translators of some of the works he cites, and in so doing translates them more sympathetically to his own view than did the original translators (see his endnotes 26 and 28). Of his competence in Latin and French I know nothing; yet his method is odd, as it invites the question as to why we should prefer his translations over the originals.
Some idea of how he handles his material can be gained from his consideration of Calvin’ statement that “Christ took to Himself what was ours in order that He might transfer what was His to us,” which Mosser says is an example of “the patristic exchange formula” which shows “the deep influence patristic writers . . .  had on [Calvin’s] soteriology.” That seems reasonable, but when in the very next sentence Mosser says “in these patristic writers, the exchange formula ‘teaches deification without actually employing the word’” and then goes on to say that “there can be little doubt Calvin meant it the same way,” well might we object that his use of words is far more convenient for his cause than those words themselves justify. Even the one passage which uses the actual word deify does so timidly and with reservation (“the end of the gospel is, to render us eventually conformable to God, and, if we may so speak, to deify us”). All of which is to say that anyone who wants to learn what the Reformed teach concerning the beatific vision will have to go somewhere other than Credo. For our state in glory, see Calvin’s Institutes III, ch. 25, a passage Mosser invokes only to mention Plato (in true Great Tradition fashion).[1]
Tom Hervey is a member, Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church, Simpsonville, SC. The statements made in this article are the personal opinions of the author alone, and do not necessarily reflect the views of his church or its leadership or other members.
[1]Concerning deification, see Bavinck’s Reformed Dogmatics, Vol. II, pp. 187-190.
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