Did Jonathan Edwards neglect his family?

What would prompt such a question as this? Is there well-known or newly discovered evidence that pastor Jonathan Edwards (1703–58) — a leader of the First Great Awakening and widely considered America’s greatest theologian — neglected his family? Are there reasons to believe he had a troubled marriage with Sarah? Did his children turn out badly?

No. Rather, it’s likely that the only reason anyone would even pose the question arises from a short but famous remark by Samuel Hopkins (1721–1823), Edwards’s first biographer.

Behind the Study Door

Hopkins, who would later become an influential theologian in his own right, once lived in the Edwards home for six months to observe and learn from the renowned minister.

In The Life and Character of the Late Reverend Mr. Jonathan Edwards (1764), Hopkins wrote that “he commonly spent thirteen hours every day in his study.” Hopkins passes immediately from the remark without so much as a word as to how Edwards spent that time. It is not hard to guess the general contours of those thirteen hours, given Edwards’s propensities and the extant sermon manuscripts and publications. Still, nowhere do we read of a routine schedule or specific details describing Edwards’s activities behind the door of his study.

That’s it. When people read Hopkins’s ten words through the lens of modern life, and then factor in time for sleeping, eating, and other matters, some conclude that Edwards must have neglected his family. Those familiar with Edwards also recall his daily four-mile round-trip visit on horseback to the Sawtooth hills west of Northampton, where he would dismount to meditate and pray while walking, as well as his habit of chopping wood for exercise. Adding it all up, even Edwards’s most loyal supporters can be prone to wonder if — as so many pastors have done — he sacrificed his family on the altar of ministry.

The title of Elisabeth Dodds’s insightful book on “the uncommon union” of Jonathan and Sarah — Marriage to a Difficult Man — doesn’t help dispel these suspicions, at least for those who know of the book but haven’t read it. But as we shall see, Dodds instead sheds a reassuring light on life in the Edwards home.

His Little Church

Readers of Edwards’s sermons on the subject of family life will find them biblically orthodox. It isn’t surprising that, from a contemporary perspective, Edwards’s instructions about the governance of a home may seem rather strict. But they were in harmony both with the Christian parental guidance of his day and the spirit of the biblical teaching on the family.

His favorite analogy of the family was that it was like “a little church.” He used the image in one of his earliest published sermons (1723) and again in his “Farewell Sermon” to the Northampton church 27 years later, saying, “A Christian family ought to be as it were a little church, consecrated to Christ, and wholly influenced and governed by his rules.” As a church should be marked by love, Christ-centeredness, and biblical order, so, said Edwards, should be the home.

In his 1739 sermon “The Importance of Revival Among Heads of Families,” Edwards warned of the “great offense” to God “if heads of families are either God’s enemies or are cold and dull in religion.” He advocated for the practice of regular family worship and the responsibility of fathers to instruct their children in the ways of the Lord. And yet, all the instruction, regardless of how faithful to Scripture, “will have little effect unless example accompanies instructions.” Thus, Edwards was well aware of the importance of being a Christlike example in the home. But he also knew that no amount of modeling or teaching was sufficient apart from the work of the Spirit in the hearts of children. Therefore, he urged the parents to “earnest prayer” for their children: “You should travail for them.”

Perhaps you’ve heard of hypocritical pastors who failed to practice in private the orthodoxy they preached in public. Edwards, however, has never been counted among them, but rather is renowned for the general congruence between his life and preaching. So, let us look elsewhere.

Uncommon and Happy Union

Why did Elisabeth Dodds refer to Edwards as “a difficult man”? It wasn’t because he was a disagreeable man or a distant man. Rather, it was because “a genius is seldom an easy husband” (31).

“As a church should be marked by love, Christ-centeredness, and biblical order, so, said Edwards, should be the home.”

In fact, Dodds argues that Edwards’s devotion to and dependence upon Sarah was one of the reasons why he would have been no easy husband. According to Dodds, Edwards often invited Sarah to join him in his late afternoon rides into the woods. There he would pour out the contents of the day’s study and sermon preparation for her consideration or seek her input on some parish problem. Although the break from her heavy domestic duties and the opportunity to be outdoors provided some physical refreshment, Dodds concluded that sometimes Sarah “must also have been singularly drained” by such intense mental demands at the end of the day.

Before the third paragraph of her book, Dodds says of Jonathan, “He was in fact a tender lover and a father whose children seemed genuinely fond of him.” Still, living with a man of such “labyrinthine character” meant their marriage was not a “radiant idyll” (i). No marriage is, even for two people as godly and well-matched as the Edwardses.

Being a pastor’s wife — especially the wife of the only pastor in town — is often difficult. Sarah knew she was scrutinized every time she left the house, down to what she wore, how much money she spent, and how her children behaved. Jonathan was always underpaid, so money was always tight, and the financial pressures increased with the birth of each of their eleven children. Add the criticism Jonathan received (which also weighed heavily on Sarah) to the problems of the church, and you have a mix that would strain the bonds of any marriage.

Yet, to the end Jonathan and Sarah loved each other and enjoyed what can only be considered a happy marriage. In fact, on his deathbed — literally in the last moments of his life — Edwards’s final words included this message to his wife of thirty years, who had not yet made the move to Princeton where Edwards was the new president: “Give my kindest love to my dear wife, and tell her that the uncommon union, which has so long subsisted between us, has been of such nature, as I trust is spiritual, and therefore will continue forever.”

Incidentally, Jonathan named his first child Sarah.

Three Meals a Day

When specifying the qualifications of an elder, the apostle Paul wrote, “He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive” (1 Timothy 3:4). Edwards met this qualification with flying colors, for each of his eleven children turned out well. Of course, pastors can (and have) kept their “children submissive” harshly and with dictatorial domination, but Edwards did it “with all dignity.” And to the point of this article, every good parent knows that neglected children seldom turn out well.

Abundant evidence proves that Edwards did not neglect his children at all. For starters, “Sarah could count on one hour a day when Edwards gave the family complete attention,” writes Dodds (49). “He made sure to save an hour at the close of each day to spend with the children.” How many of those who charge Edwards with neglect do this? Hopkins observed and wrote about this hour.

Moreover, the Jonathan Edwards Encyclopedia reports that “when [the children] were old enough, he took them with him one at a time on his journeys. He often wrote his children when traveling alone” (87). Additionally, Edwards “had the idea, unusual in those times, that girls as well as boys should be educated. . . . The girls, tutored by their father at home, learned Latin, Greek, rhetoric, and penmanship” (Marriage to a Difficult Man, 50).

But Edwards placed the greatest emphasis on the commitment required for the spiritual instruction of his family. In his prize-winning biography, George Marsden writes that Edwards

began the day with private prayers followed by family prayers, by candlelight in winter. . . . Care for his children’s souls was, of course, his preeminent concern. In morning devotions he quizzed them on Scripture with questions appropriate to their ages. . . . Each meal was accompanied by household devotions. (133, 321)

Each meal! Note that this also implies that he ate three meals a day face-to-face with his family. If we knew nothing else of his interaction with his children, what we know of the gathering of his “little church” for family worship several times each day demolishes any suggestion that Edwards neglected his family.

‘Thirteen Hours Every Day’

Although the Edwardses lived in a two-story home, it was by no means large by today’s standards. Often as many as fifteen people lived there. That alone generated significant noise to interrupt a study in which there was no streaming music, white-noise device, or noise-canceling earphones to insulate Edwards from the distractions.

And though he was there thirteen hours a day (where else would he have gone to do his work?), he would have emerged as needed to quell a sibling dispute or address any other issue that required his attention. Moreover, the children were not forbidden to enter the study when necessary. After his evening hour with the children, Edwards retreated to his study for another hour or so. At bedtime Sarah would join him there, and they would close the day together in prayer.

So, when Hopkins writes that Edwards was in his study thirteen hours every day, it’s wrong to envision him there totally alone the entire time (that’s also where he counseled church members), completely disengaged from his family. In fact, from everything we know, he probably had more personal contact and interaction with his large family than almost any father does today.

Finally, although this article was specifically about Jonathan, I cannot close without emphasizing that much of the character and success of the Edwards children was, of course, attributable to the love, nurture, and training of the remarkable Sarah. And I’m sure Jonathan would agree. Together they truly had an “uncommon union,” and from it resulted an uncommon family.

Somewhere near the beginning of my Christian life, I started associating sleeplessness with godliness. And for understandable reasons.

The sluggard of Proverbs has long lived as a vivid character in my imagination — that buffoon who flops on his bed “as a door turns on its hinges” (Proverbs 26:14), who answers his mother’s fourth knock with a mumble: “A little sleep, a little slumber . . .” (Proverbs 6:10). Then, positively, I read of psalmists who prayed at midnight and woke before dawn (Psalm 119:62, 147) — and of a Savior who rose “very early” (Mark 1:35) and sometimes passed the night without a wink (Luke 6:12).

Stories from church history also cast a shadow over my bed. I read with wonder how Hudson Taylor sometimes rose at 2:00am to read and pray until 4:00am (Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret, 243). George Whitefield, too, was known to begin his day well before dawn, sometimes finishing both his devotions and his first sermon by 6:00am (George Whitefield: God’s Anointed Servant, 196). And didn’t the Puritans get just a few hours of sleep a night? The post-Puritan William Law seemed to capture the spirit of the godliest saints when he spoke of “renouncing sleep” to redeem the time (When I Don’t Desire God, 160).

Under such influences, I tried many times to carve off minutes and sometimes hours from my nightly routine, attempting to find the smallest amount of sleep I could get without losing essential functions. I greeted many midnights and dark mornings. I experimented with elaborate alarm clocks. I traded my pillow for cups of coffee.

And all the while, I did not always take seriously all that God says about sleep. I did not realize that “sometimes,” as D.A. Carson puts it, “the godliest thing you can do in the universe is get a good night’s sleep” (Scandalous, 147).

Sleeping Saints

For all the biblical passages that hallow sleeplessness, perhaps just as many sanctify sleep. In Proverbs, the same father who warns his son about the dangers of “a little sleep” also assures him that wisdom gives good rest (Proverbs 3:24). Alongside the psalmists who praise God at midnight are others who praise him in the morning after a sound night of slumber (Psalm 3:5).

And in the Gospels, one of the more remarkable images of our Savior is of him in a storm-tossed, wave-battered boat, “asleep on the cushion” (Mark 4:37–38). He could stay up all night when needed, but he was not above taking a nap the next day.

“For those prone to productive self-reliance, the bed is a desk in God’s school of humility.”

Perhaps the most striking endorsement of sleep, however, comes from the simple fact that God made us this way. Scripture gives no indication that our need for nightly rest began in Genesis 3. And in fact, before the fruit was taken from the tree, before the weariness of sin weighed down the world, Adam slept (Genesis 2:21). Sleep, it seems, is no fallen necessity, nor merely a fleshly temptation, but a divine gift. Both then and now, God “gives to his beloved sleep” (Psalm 127:2).

And therefore, though occasions come when we must renounce sleep for the sake of something greater, Scripture gives us a more positive default posture: in Christ, God teaches us to redeem sleep. He brings our beds back to Eden, where we learn to receive sleep as healer, teacher, giver, and servant.

Sleep as Healer

On nights when sleep seems like a great interruption, like an eight-hour paralysis on our plans, we may find help from imagining our beds as a balm for mind, body, and soul. For by God’s design, sleep halts us to heal us.

Until recently, sleep’s God-given powers of healing were a matter more of intuition than of empirical reality. But sleep scientists can now write volumes about the benefits of adequate rest for the brain and the body. Matthew Walker, director of the Center for Human Sleep Science, goes so far as to say, “Sleep is the universal health care provider: whatever the physical or mental ailment, sleep has a prescription it can dispense” (Why We Sleep, 108). While we lie unconscious, sleep solidifies our memories and nourishes our creativity; it boosts our energy and staves off sickness.

Which also means that sleep plays a modest but notable role in our spiritual health. As exercise can keep our bodies fit for service, and as nutrition can energize us for good works, so a healthy pattern of sleep can assist our love for God and neighbor — keeping us awake and alert for meditation and prayer, readying us to spend and be spent for others. More than that, good rest also guards us from sins that our sleep-deprived selves might indulge more easily: irritability and impatience, bitterness and lust, cynicism and grumbling.

When the miserable Elijah asked God to take his life, God’s remedy for the prophet’s despondency was first sleep, then food, then more sleep — and then finally words (1 Kings 19:4–6). John Piper, having learned Elijah’s lesson, mentions how he becomes “emotionally less resilient” on little sleep. Therefore, he writes, “For me, adequate sleep is not just a matter of staying healthy. It’s a matter of staying in the ministry — I’m tempted to say it’s a matter of persevering as a Christian” (When I Don’t Desire God, 205).

Nightly, the God who knit these brains and bodies stands beside our beds, ready to retie the day’s loose ends, patch our holes, and wake us up repaired, freshly ready to hear and respond to his words of life.

Sleep as Teacher

As sleep heals, it also teaches. And in a world preoccupied with productivity, sleep teaches lessons we might scarcely learn elsewhere: God, not we, upholds our life (Psalm 121:3–4); his initiative and action, not ours, decisively builds our homes and watches over our cities (Psalm 127:1–2). For those prone to productive self-reliance, the bed is a desk in God’s school of humility.

Like Israel’s weekly Sabbath, nighttime bids us to lay down our to-do lists and cease our striving, reminding us that God can keep our lives running while we lie unproductive. And like Israel’s Sabbath, the lesson is hard learned and easily forgotten. Many of us receive God’s rest reluctantly, even unwillingly, like people searching for manna on the seventh day (Exodus 16:27). Yet the teacher sleep returns again, each night repeating its lesson.

As if to reinforce the point, God tells us stories where he works wonders during our deepest slumber. In Eden, Adam falls asleep a bachelor and wakes to find a bride (Genesis 2:21–23). Later, a similar “deep sleep” falls on Abram, and in the darkness, God makes great and solemn promises, and seals his gracious covenant (Genesis 15:12–21). And then still later, as the disciples’ heavy lids close on their Savior’s anguish, Jesus wrestles and prays and wins the victory in Gethsemane alone (Mark 14:40–42).

To be sure, we ought not presume that God will fix our shoddy work while we sleep. In all likelihood, the weeds the sluggard should have pulled today will still be there tomorrow, a little taller for his negligence. But for those who are tempted to eat “the bread of anxious toil” (Psalm 127:2), these images of God’s tireless care, his sleepless provision, powerfully remind us that he can do far more in our sleeping than we can do in our waking.

Sleep as Giver

Of course, we may acknowledge sleep as healer and teacher yet still find ourselves lying down begrudgingly. Medicine and lessons may be necessary, but necessity rarely makes patients and pupils rejoice. Scripture, however, speaks of sleep not only as needed, but also, for God’s people, as “sweet” (Proverbs 3:24; Jeremiah 31:26).

Like food, sleep falls among those good gifts “to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and know the truth” (1 Timothy 4:3); it is one part of the “everything” that God “richly provides” for our enjoyment (1 Timothy 6:17). And therefore, we sleep Christianly when we not only humble ourselves to get the sleep we need, but also when, as Adrian Reynolds puts it, we “wake up after a good night, stretch and cry out, ‘Thank you, Lord, for the good gift of sleep’” (And So to Bed, 38). Sleep is a generous gift from a generous God.

Beyond bodily refreshment, however, God invites us to experience sleep as gift on a far deeper level. We catch a glimpse in Psalm 31:5, a common bedtime prayer in Jesus’s day: “Into your hand I commit my spirit.” At night, God gives us the privilege of giving to him our very selves, including all the cares that feel so vexing and troubling, so discouraging and distracting. There at our bedside he takes them — takes us — and safely keeps us while we sleep. And there is no sweeter place to sleep than in the sovereign hands of God.

“God can do far more in our sleeping than we can do in our waking.”

Jesus, who would pray Psalm 31:5 before his great and final sleep, enjoyed this gift every day during his three decades on earth. How else could he sleep through the storm? How else could he rest while surrounded by so much need, while threatened by so many foes? Only because he nightly handed his spirit into his Father’s care, and received from his Father a peace that surpassed the biggest troubles of today and tomorrow.

Sleep as Servant

Sleep as healer, sleep as teacher, sleep as giver — these three give us abundant reason to actively seek a good night’s rest. In light of them, many of us may need to acknowledge how much sleep we really need and to consider some basic tips for falling asleep and staying asleep, especially in our caffeinated, sedentary, digital world.

But the aim of Christian sleep goes further still. As followers of the Savior who sacrificed his sleep for us, we do not pursue a good night’s rest at all costs. We do not take this healer, teacher, giver and set it up also as master. Rather, we receive sleep with a soul that stands ready, at all times, to forsake sleep when love calls.

Perhaps a friend in need asks for a late-night phone call, or a small-group member needs an early-morning ride to the airport. Perhaps a child cries from down the hall, or a spouse just needs to talk. Perhaps hospitality ran late, or some crucial decision requires a midnight consultation with our Lord. Either way, in the face of such needs, we kindly thank sleep for its services and then dismiss it as the servant God made it to be.

When we leave our beds to walk in love, we do not leave our God. His help is stronger than sleep’s healing, his wisdom deeper than sleep’s teaching, his generosity greater than sleep’s giving. He can sustain us in our sleeplessness and, in his good time, give again to his beloved sleep.

Audio Transcript

Happy Friday. Today we are taking up the topic of physical appearance, because the Bible speaks often about physical appearance. Scripture contains dozens of references to physical looks — both to attractiveness and unattractiveness. Those categories emerge all over the Bible, so there’s no need to shy away from this topic. We looked at many of these texts when we addressed this topic in APJ 1699. And since listening to that episode, which became pretty popular, we’ve gotten several follow-up questions, including this from a listener named Sean.

“Dear Pastor John, thank you for APJ 1699 — ‘Why Did God Make Me Unattractive?’ That episode was excellent. I wonder, though, if you could expand on your last paragraph, about the beauty of Christ satisfying us despite the pain of rejection. In my younger days, I often lamented that I was not better looking. But now, I realize that I would have ruined my life several times over chasing relationships with ungodly women. I now see my average attractiveness is a massive spiritual blessing that protected me from idols, and that drove me deeper into Christ instead of into shallow patterns of life. I would not trade that joy for attractiveness in a million years.”

Just hearing you articulate the question again reminds me of how many pimples I had when I was 14 and 15, and how nervous I was around people, and how I so badly wanted it to be otherwise. Now I share that same amazement. I think God spared me a lot of junk by not letting me get on the fast track to trouble.

Another Kind of Beauty

Well, anyway, that was a beautiful testimony. I love his testimony. And I use the word beautiful when I say, “Isn’t that a beautiful testimony?” intentionally. That’s what we’re talking about here: beauty. I would rather hear a person say that from the heart than gaze on the most beautiful woman in the world, or on the most beautiful mountain or lake.

Natural beauties — yes, they’re good. They’re not evil. They’re a gift. We should receive them and see something of God in them. Everything good is a partial revelation of the all-satisfying God. But the beauty of soul — the mind and the heart, a beautiful mind — that in much affliction or disappointment finds Jesus to be satisfying, that is a beauty of another kind and a higher level. I love to see it. Just hearing this question was a great joy to me. It was beautiful.

Sean wants me to expand on the beauty of Christ satisfying us despite the pain of rejection. I think what might be helpful is to ponder four changes that need to happen in our minds and hearts in order to find lasting satisfaction in the beauty of Christ. I’ll name them and then just say a word about each one.

We need to shift our focus from the beauty of the body to the beauty of character.
We need to shift our focus from the beauty that satisfies the body to the beauty that satisfies the soul.
We need to shift our focus from beauty as the world sees it to beauty as God sees it.
We need to shift our focus from beauty in time to beauty in eternity.

1. Beauty of Character

First, we need to shift our focus from the beauty of body to the beauty of character. The most graphic illustration of the need for this shift is the appearance of Jesus in the hour of his most beautiful act. Isaiah 52:14 and Isaiah 53:2 say, “His appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of the children of mankind. . . . He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.” In other words, he not only became sin for us; he became ugly for us. The ugliness of sin was accompanied by the ugliness of body, so ugly in his torments that it was hard to look at him. And yet, at this good-news-creating moment, he was, in another sense, more beautiful than at any other time.

God, give us eyes. I think that’s what Paul would say: “Give us eyes to see.” But Paul will put it like this: “the light of the gospel of the glory [that is, the beauty] of Christ, who is the image of God.” That’s what we’ll see, according to 2 Corinthians 4:4. The good news is the beauty of Christ at the moment of his greatest ugliness. That’s the shift of focus we need, from the beauty of body to the beauty of Christ — Christ’s character, Christ’s love.

“All of us, men and women, need a deep shift of focus from beauty of body to beauty of character.”

It’s not surprising when the Bible speaks to the beauty of Christian women, for example, with just this emphasis. It says in 1 Peter 3:3–4, “Do not let your adorning be external — the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing that you wear — but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious.” Now, he’s not saying, “Women shouldn’t wear clothes.” That’s ridiculous. I mean, he’s not saying, “Oh, don’t wear clothes.” He’s not even saying they shouldn’t be attractive. He’s saying, “All of us, men and women, need a deep shift of focus from beauty of body to beauty of character.” Without that, all our talk about the beauty of Christ will be shallow.

2. Soul-Satisfying Beauty

Second, we need to shift our focus from the beauty that satisfies the body to the beauty that satisfies the soul. Now, the point here is not about the beauty we seek to have in ourselves, but the beauty we seek to enjoy in others. This requires a profound change of heart by the Holy Spirit. It comes naturally to us to enjoy good looks in the opposite sex, or beautiful scenery. There is enough of the image of God left in us that most fallen people can even admire and enjoy a beautiful act of sacrificial love and call it beautiful. They see something beautiful in sacrifice and love; they say, “That’s beautiful.” But it requires a supernatural work of the Holy Spirit to see God in Christ as supremely beautiful and therefore satisfying.

This is a new kind of satisfaction. It’s not bodily. It’s not the satisfaction merely of the eyes. It is spiritual. The psalmist doesn’t have it by nature; that’s why he prays for it. He says, “Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love” (Psalm 90:14). This is what God has to do. God has to satisfy us with God. Or Psalm 17:15: “When I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness.” Or Psalm 63:5–6: “My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food . . . when I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night.”

“To shift our focus from beauty that satisfies the body to beauty that satisfies the soul, we must know God.”

To shift our focus from beauty that satisfies the body to beauty that satisfies the soul, we must know God — really know him, know him until he becomes the source of all beauty and the sum of all beauty for us. Then we will be able to taste and see the beauty of Christ.

3. Beauty in God’s Eyes

Third, we need to shift our focus from beauty as the world sees it to beauty as God sees it. We live in a time when TV and streaming services and Facebook and TikTok and Instagram and Twitter and texting and FaceTime and a camera in every pocket continually throw into our faces the issue of looks, looks, looks. The appeal is constantly to the immediate response of our eyes. It is almost all outward. Visual appearance and its immediate impact is held up as desirable. But the deeper issues of character are not. Why? Well, because it’s artistically harder to depict character.

The appeal of character is not instantaneous. Most people don’t even have a clear sense of what character is. So the default is to feed the eyes, feed the eyes, feed the eyes. Feed the visual instincts, especially of the men. (Maybe not especially of the men. I don’t know what’s going on in the minds of women; I’m not a woman. I’m a man, and I know what they’re doing to me.)

First Samuel 16:7 says, “The Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” We need to shift our focus from beauty as the world sees it and shows it to beauty as God sees it and creates it. This will probably require a significant shift in the viewing habits of many Christians.

4. Eternal Beauty

Finally, we need to shift our focus from beauty in time to beauty in eternity. If God created us with a homely exterior — we’re just not handsome or pretty — and in a world like ours, life has been harder because of it, then we need to shift our focus and realize that this light momentary homeliness, which we call a lifetime, is nothing compared to the eternity of beauty we will enjoy (2 Corinthians 4:17).

Here’s 1 John 3:2: “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” Which means at least, Jesus says, that we “will shine like the sun in the kingdom of [our] Father” (Matthew 13:43). Finally, the beauty of Christ will be not only what we see but what we are, and we will be supremely satisfied in him.