“Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him” (Ps 2:12). In the Lord Jesus everything is to be found which can bring about rest. He is all-sufficient, omnipotent, good, faithful, and true. To trust in Him is to magnify Jesus in all His perfections. For such there are glorious promises.

In the first volume of The Christian’s Reasonable Service, Wilhelmus à Brakel explains Christ’s office as King as the Mediator of the Covenant of Grace. Christ’s perfection and fulfillment of these roles has implications that the believer can never ignore:
“The kingly office is the third office of Christ. A king is a person in whom alone the supreme authority over a nation is vested. Thus, the Lord Jesus is King, and none but Him. . .
Since the Lord Jesus is King, one must confess Him as such and not be ashamed of Him. “Whosoever therefore shall confess Me before men, him will I confess also before My Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny Me before men, him will I also deny before My Father which is in heaven” (Matt 10:32-33). This must be practiced with discretion, and yet at the same time boldly, willingly, manifestly (and thus without disguise), and in dependency upon the Lord Jesus, persevering therein until death.
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God’s speech is a central emphasis in the book of Hebrews. In Hebrews, God speaks, says, testifies, proclaims, calls, promises, vows, warns, reproves, and declares. Again and again, Hebrews refers to God’s word, his promise, his oath, his spoken word, and his voice. Something that’s amazing to track in Hebrews is who speaks to whom. First, Father speaks to Son in chapter 1, and Son speaks to Father in chapter 2 (and 10). But then, the Son also speaks to us. And the Spirit speaks to us. And the Father speaks to us.

I want to begin by giving you a peek at where we’re headed this morning. At the end, I hope to talk practically and concretely about what kind of habits we might cultivate in our lives to know and enjoy God, and feed our souls on his word. I have in mind a matrix of four categories: direct and indirect, and alone and together, as you’ll see.
I often summarize God’s appointed means of grace for our Christian lives as (1) hear his voice (in his word), (2) have his hear (in prayer), and (3) belong to his body (in the covenant fellowship of the local church). Our focus in this message is the first — hearing God’s voice in his word, which is God’s primary, or first and foremost, means of grace (his “chief” means, as Jonathan Edwards called it, or the “soul” of the means).
Both prayer and fellowship (which we’ll focus on in later sessions) are secondary, in a sense, to God’s word. First comes his word. First he speaks. Then our prayers come in response to his word. And his word creates the body of fellow believers called the church. The church does not create itself, and the church does not create Scripture, but the church is a “creature of the word.”
To focus in this message on God’s word as his chief means of grace, we turn to the book of Hebrews, where I’d like to linger over two central truths about God’s word, and then finish with some ideas on the kinds of habits we might cultivate in our lives to position ourselves to go on receiving, and enjoying, God’s word, and through his word to know and enjoy Jesus. So then, let’s turn to the first truth about God’s word from the book of Hebrews, from its first two verses.
1. God has spoken.
Do you realize how massive, how significant, this seemingly simple, basic truth is for the very nature of reality and our world and our lives? God did not have to speak to humanity. He could have just created the world — embedded his truth and justice, as it were, in the world through the principles and laws of nature. He might have chosen to reveal himself only through creation, rather than human words.
But wonder upon wonder, God has spoken. Our Father, in all his majesty, has stooped to speak to us in human words. The God who made everything, including you, has spoken — and that changes everything.
Look at the first four verses of Hebrews, and we’ll focus for now on just the first two:
Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.
So, in the past, God spoke (verse 1). And in these last days, God has spoken (verse 2). This is the kind of God he is. He is a speaking God, a communicative God. We might say God is talkative. In verses 1–2, God’s speaking is cast into two eras: “long ago” and “in these last days” — a past era, an old era, and then a later era, a new era.
Related to these two eras, then, two sets of recipients are mentioned. In the past there were “our fathers” — for Jews, their biological ancestors, and for Christians, our spiritual ancestors. Then, in the new era, there’s “us.” That’s an amazing phrase in verse 2: “to us.” Hebrews doesn’t say God spoke “to them,” meaning the apostles, or the first generation of Christians, but he says “to us,” to his readers in the first century, which includes us in this same church age, in these same last days, some twenty centuries later.
Hebrews also mentions two agents of God’s speaking: In the past they had the prophets. In these last days we have his Son. (And with the mention of the Son, then follows a cascade of sevenfold glory, which we’ll come back to.)
In Many Ways
Focus with me on the past era, when God spoke “at many times and in many ways” (literally, “in many parts and many manners”). The speaking God not only spoke once, or a few times, but many times, in many parts, in many ways, and through multiple (plural) prophets. The God who is is a talker.
First, he spoke to create the world. Again and again in Genesis 1, some twelve times, we hear, “And God said . . . and God called” (verses 3, 5–6, 8–11, 14, 20, 24, 26, 28; interestingly, God speaks to create on all six days, but he calls or names only on days 1–3 and leaves the naming of the plants, stars, and animals to man).
And our speaking God not only spoke to create, but he continues to speak in creation. Psalm 19:1–4 tells us,
The heavens declare the glory of God,     and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.Day to day pours out speech,     and night to night reveals knowledge.There is no speech, nor are there words,     whose voice is not heard.Their voice goes out through all the earth,     and their words to the end of the world.
So, God spoke to create, and he keeps speaking through creation. Then, as we’ve seen, God spoke in human words through his prophets. Psalm 19:7–8 (and all of Psalm 119!) says,
The law of the Lord is perfect,     reviving the soul;the testimony of the Lord is sure,     making wise the simple;the precepts of the Lord are right,     rejoicing the heart;the commandment of the Lord is pure,     enlightening the eyes.
So, not only has he spoken, say, on an occasion or two, but he is a speaking God; he’s prone to speak; he likes to speak. He’s a talker, in the highest and most holy of senses, as he speaks many times, in many parts and manners, through many prophets.
In the Word
Coming back to Hebrews 1, what’s the implied pairing with “many” for the new era? In the old era, to the fathers, through the prophets, he spoke in many parts and ways. Now, in the new era, to us, in his Son — how does he speak? One part, one way, one manner. God has spoken so fully and so richly and so decisively in one particular person — not just through him but in him — that we call him “the Word,” with a capital W.
And so, the Gospel of John begins,
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. (John 1:1–3)
And then John 1:14–18 says,
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. . . . For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known.
God has most fully made himself known in his Word.
Manifold Speech
Consider then the nature of God’s word, from the idea of God speaking to its various expressions:

First is God’s word as concept. God speaks. He reveals himself. He’s communicative and talkative, speaking to create, through creation, and particularly through his prophets.
Second, then, his word, spoken through prophets, is written down to preserve it, called Scripture.

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In 1993, I published a book titled Modern Fascism: Liquidating the Judeo-Christian Worldview.1 In it, I showed that the various fascist movements in Europe of the 1930s and 1940s were facets of the modernist movement, particularly, the branch of that movement that morphed into postmodernism. I also showed that the intellectual establishment of the 1990s, as represented in the academia of the time, was still holding to the ideas of the intellectual establishment of the 1930s that gave us Adolf Hitler, the Holocaust, and World War II, as if those catastrophes had never happened. But, as I wrote,
My concern is not so much with the current intellectual scene as it is with what might come next. What will the “post-contemporary” movement look like, once the postmodernists have successfully discredited objectivity, freedom, and morality? What sort of society will be erected on the rubble, once the Western tradition is deconstructed?2
“What might come next”? Well, Tabletalk has asked me to revisit my book to see how it stands up nearly three decades later. Reading it again after all these years was an unsettling experience. Much of what I predicted and warned against has come true. And even when I was wrong, I was wrong in underestimating the magnitude of the fascist revival.
As an undergraduate, I took a history seminar on early-twentieth-century Europe in which we studied the rise of fascism, which, to my surprise, was actually an avant-garde form of socialism involving some of the most distinguished thinkers and artists of the day. Then, as a graduate student in literature at a time when deconstruction and postmodern were in vogue, I observed the carefully controlled fallout over Victor Farias’ Heidegger and Nazism, which showed that the godfather of postmodernism, the twentieth-century philosopher Martin Heidegger, was not only a committed Nazi who presided over the purge of Jews in his university but a member of that party’s most radical faction. The same rationalizations accompanied the publication of Wartime Journalism: 1939–1943 by Paul De Man, which showed that the author, one of the fathers of deconstruction in literature, honed his ideas in writings published in Nazi publications in occupied Belgium.
As I started my career in Christian academia, I kept coming across related facts. I read an article by Raymond Surburg in Concordia Theological Quarterly about two important pioneers of the historical-critical approach to the Bible that demonstrated how their attacks on the Old Testament were motivated by their open anti-Semitism and by their desire to purge Christianity of its “Jewish” elements and thus the influence of the Bible. One of my colleagues, William Houser, a communications professor, discussed with me the contrast between Hitler’s ideal of “the triumph of the will,” captured in Leni Riefenstahl’s artistically acclaimed propaganda film of that name, and Luther’s “bondage of the will.” I also read the critique of Christianity and its ethic of love by Friedrich Nietzsche, the nineteenth-century philosopher venerated both by the S.S. concentration camp guards and many of my graduate school professors.
I wanted to connect the dots. Concordia Publishing House had started a monograph series and asked me to contribute something. After much research wherein I found that the connections I was making were fully supported by specialists in the field, I wrote Modern Fascism. That was not my choice for the title, which makes it sound like a book on contemporary political cults. Its subtitle captures my thesis: Fascism was all about “liquidating” the “Jewish elements” in Western civilization—that is to say, the influence of the Bible, specifically transcendent morality, objective truth, the value of the individual, etc.—in favor of reviving a neopagan worldview of power, constructivism, and collectivism.