I am always intrigued when I read the writings of missionaries from previous generations, especially missionaries of the pioneering sort. Where did their initial drive come from? How was their sustaining perseverance instilled in them? Without a doubt, they were, first and foremost, men and women who did not count their lives as precious; they only aimed to finish the work given to them by their God (Acts 20:24). But what of their upbringing, education, peers, teachers, and mentors? What role did these play in their zeal?

Certainly, the parents and mentors of many shaped them to value the call to leave behind home and family for the glory of the King. John Paton and Amy Carmichael serve as good examples here. Others were influenced by a forerunner in missions, such as David Brainerd. His biography and writings arrested men like William Carey, Robert Morrison, and Henry Martyn, eventually guiding them to faraway lands. But the more I read about the history of missions, the more I see the crucial role of institutions, and especially their key leaders, in shaping so many long-term missionaries.

In particular, a breakout session at a recent Radius Conference made me aware of the radical nature of Princeton Seminary as a missions hotbed.

Nursery of Missions

Two centuries ago, Princeton was the jewel of theological education in the English-speaking world. It is no overstatement to say that it was the most known, trusted, and respected seminary of the nineteenth century.

Luminaries like B.B. Warfield, James Boyce, Jonathan Edwards, J. Gresham Machen, and so many others served as professors or studied as students at this venerable institution. And amazingly, in its prime, one out of every three Princeton graduates headed out to be involved in serious long-term missions (Princeton Seminary, 406).

When Princeton was formed, one of the stated pillars of the school was to be a “nursery for missionaries,” and professors led and taught to that end (Princeton Seminary, 139). This intentionality fostered student-led groups that met regularly to pray that some among them would be led to missions. The “Society of Inquiry” dealt with logistical issues in reaching faraway countries, collected language data, and worked steadily to gather a library of books to aid those students setting out to be missionaries. Students also queried active missionaries, asking for information about their field of service, the surrounding people groups, and ways they could pray for the work on the ground.

In short, the faculty of Old Princeton made missions a primary topic of discussion and study, and students caught what the professors prioritized, resulting in over one-third of graduates moving to places where no church existed. Oh, for God to raise up in our day more seminaries, Bible schools, and colleges with the Old Princetonian values!

Schooled by Princeton

Considering that most who will read this article will not help to lead a Christian institution of higher education, what applications can we take from the model of Old Princeton for our churches and other institutions today?

1. Making missions primary helps, not hurts, the church.

David Livingstone, the famous missionary to Africa, is reported to have said, “The best remedy for a sick church is to put it on a missionary diet.” While many would expect a missionary to say as much, hearing the same sentiment from other Christian leaders is rare. The spirit that existed at Old Princeton was alive for Christ-exalting missions, and the faculty at every level bought into it. Archibald Alexander, the seminary’s first president, would remark, “we regard the missionary cause as the greatest beneath the sun” (quoted in John C. Lowrie’s 1876 paper, “Princeton Theological Seminary and Foreign Missions,” 11). This spirit grew the seminary numerically, but more importantly, in zeal.

There exists today, as in earlier days, an unvoiced fear that if a church or seminary pushes missions too hard, the building projects won’t get done, the giving will decline, and some who are needed on the home front will be sent to the field. The problem with this fear is that it views the task of missions through man-centered eyes. If the task of taking the gospel to those peoples still in darkness is merely conjured up by fallen men, then we are right to hold back resources, avoid speaking about it from the pulpit, and generally tamp down the entire enterprise.

“The astounding legacy of Princeton can be measured by what its graduates gave their lives for.”

But if Christ himself issued the Great Commission, then the God of all grace has stamped his own name on this task, and it remains binding on the church today. He must bring in his sheep that have yet to hear his voice (John 10:16). And his voice, his call of the gospel, comes through God’s ambassadors, as though God himself were making his appeal through men (2 Corinthians 5:20). Far from being a man-centered task, the Great Commission is given by God, is orchestrated by God, and will result in God’s eternal glory.

The church, the school, the seminary that puts the commission of the God of heaven and earth above endowments, above building plans, above succession plans works in harmony with the heart of our God. The institution that makes itself a “nursery for missionaries” will not regret that path. How wonderful for a local congregation to foster sister congregations around the world raised up by men and women whom they have sent! On that great day, the glory accorded to those pastors and congregations will be something to behold.

2. Champion missions from the front.

The astounding legacy of Old Princeton can be measured by what its graduates gave their lives for. But most of the graduates didn’t go into the seminary with missions in mind; they caught the passion of the institution’s leaders. Men like Archibald Alexander, Charles Hodge, Samuel Miller, and others led from the front.

Listen to what James W. Alexander said in a talk to the seminary students about “calling” in missions:

Candidates for the sacred office [church pastor] are too much accustomed to think, “I will prepare myself to serve God as a preacher in my native land, and if I should be specially moved, and loudly called, I will become a foreign missionary.” Here there is altogether an error, and an error so great, that we need not be surprised to find him who harbors it, as really unfitted for the ministry at home, as he supposes himself to be for the ministry abroad. (Considerations on Foreign Missions, 125–26)

Did you catch that? According to Alexander, if you think you need a special call to go into missions, you’re unsuited for ministry in your home country. This is coming from the leadership!

No amount of zeal from a young person and no depth of history from a missions committee can substitute for a pastor leading his flock into long-term missions. If the pastor isn’t “into it,” it likely won’t happen. There may be the proverbial missions weekend or an offering for some overseas cause, but there will be scant few who leverage their futures to go to the nations unless the church leadership is genuinely leading that way from the front.

I don’t mean every Sunday brings a Matthew 28 or Acts 1 message, but the pastor clearly and regularly puts the burden of reaching those groups who still have no access to the gospel before the congregation. He tailors the church’s book reading so missions is in the mix (good biographies to start with) and ensures that those in the next generation are taken to the right conferences, exposed to missions regularly, and given a chance to see what it might be like to consecrate their lives to the task of cross-cultural church planting. What would the world look like with church leaders who fearlessly lead in “come and die” missions?

Legacy in Foreign Tongues

The lessons from Old Princeton are too good not to be retold. Today, Old Princeton is spoken of most often in regard to its theological acumen and well-known graduates who changed the course of the English-speaking world. But when the King does the final accounting of this school someday, Old Princeton will likely bear a far more glorious legacy — one sung in foreign tongues.

May God raise up more like her for his glory to the ends of the earth.

The Existence and Attributes of God by Stephen Charnock (1628–1680) is one of the standout works from the Puritan era. This is quite an accomplishment when one thinks of the hundreds of well-known books and discourses that emerged from the pens of those theological giants. Published two years after his death, it was regrettably not yet fully completed, with fourteen Discourses finalized but more planned.

There has been no shortage of praise for Charnock and his work since its publication. Historian Edmund Calamy (1671–1732) speaks of Charnock’s reputation as a theologian:

He was a very considerable scholar, there being scarcely any part of learning he was unacquainted with. He had a peculiar skill in the original languages of the Old and New Testament. His natural abilities were excellent. He had, what rarely meet, a strong judgment, and a lively imagination. He was a very eminent divine.

Erasmus Middleton (1739–1805) called him “one of the greatest men in the church of Christ, with respect to his depth, clearness, accuracy in true divinity.” He added, “He was the Author of those unparalleled discourses on the Existence, Attributes, and Providence of God.”

Anglican hymn-writer Augustus Toplady (1740–1778) similarly commented on the greatness of the Discourses: “Perspicuity and depth; metaphysical sublimity and evangelical simplicity; immense learning and plain, but irrefragable reasoning; conspire to render that performance one of the most inestimable productions, that ever did honour to the sanctified judgment and genius of a human being.”

Joel Beeke once remarked to me that Charnock’s magnum opus is the one “must-read” on the doctrine of God from the Puritan era, and he added that the Discourse on God’s goodness is “alone worth its weight in gold, and is unsurpassed in all of English literature.” Jerry Bridges, in reading the Discourse on God’s holiness, at roughly half a dozen pages in, found himself on his knees before God, overcome with his holiness. As he got up and started reading again, a few pages later he was again on his knees before God.

Left alone with only two books for the rest of my life, I would happily keep myself busy in the knowledge of God with the Bible and Charnock’s masterpiece!

Theology for the Pews

Perhaps to the surprise of some readers today, the Discourses are written chiefly for homiletical (preaching) purposes. While there would be some obvious editing to the sermons, we must keep in mind that the pages before readers today were meant to be heard in the pews of the church where Charnock ministered alongside Thomas Watson. (Incidentally, one can’t help but envy the hearers of two of the most gifted theological wordsmiths alive in Britain at the time.)

The sophistication of this work does not mean it is inaccessible to the lay reader. In fact, what makes this work a sort of classic is Charnock’s ability to take perhaps the weightiest doctrine (the doctrine of God) and write on it in a way that not only scholars and pastors can appreciate, but also Christian laypersons — though, in today’s age, it may require a great deal more focus than the average Christian book.

Each of the fourteen Discourses contains an exposition of a well-known Bible text. Charnock would often choose the locus classicus for each topic, usually in continuity with other Reformed treatments on the same subject (for example, Psalm 14:1 on God’s existence). This was a typical approach for homiletical discourses on theological doctrines. As one quickly notices, Charnock is concerned with the practical implications of who God is, which means practical atheism takes up a major part of his treatment on God’s existence.

While more people were beginning to doubt God’s existence in the latter part of the seventeenth century, the major threats to the doctrine of God’s existence in that period were, first, attacks upon a classical understanding of God and, second, the ever-present reality of failing to live as though God exists and cares about our thoughts and actions. Charnock’s work is a penetrating analysis of the extent of these problems, but he also offers many solutions to our practical atheism.

While Charnock’s work looks at the existence and attributes of God, we should not think he lacks a strong focus on Christ. Littered throughout each discourse are golden nuggets on how each attribute relates to Christ. In fact, some of Charnock’s best thoughts on Christ in relation to the divine attributes appear in the “uses” section of each Discourse. This is a crucial observation, for the simple reason that even in the application of the doctrine of God we see Charnock anchoring his Discourses in the person of Christ.

Lucid Sophistication

The “uses” (or “instructions”) sections in the Discourses show us just how practical the doctrine of God is for Christian living. Without his applications, the work would be like a beautiful car but without wheels. Today we still suffer to some extent from the idea that a theology book is not very practical, and a practical book should not be too theological. This concept is demolished by Charnock’s work, which is as practical as it is theological and vice versa.

“If Calvin was known for ‘lucid brevity,’ I think Charnock should be known for lucid sophistication.”

Some of the more popular Puritan theologians, such as John Owen (1616–1683) and Richard Baxter (1615–1691), wrote extremely sophisticated treatises. Their learning was perhaps unparalleled among English-speaking theologians in the seventeenth century. And when you read the two of them, you sometimes need a “translator” of sorts — yes, for their works in the English language! But Charnock does not require a “translator.” He is simpler and clearer and has better turns of phrase than the other two. In other words, if any of these men belong on Twitter, it is Charnock (and Watson). If Calvin was known for “lucid brevity” (as he himself described his aim), I think Charnock should be known for lucid sophistication.

The beautiful turns of phrase used by Charnock are a result of putting his learning to use to bless God’s people in the pew. His metaphors and analogies are Christlike insofar as he possessed a remarkable grasp of the natural world (“consider the lilies,” Luke 12:27). He was a Renaissance man par excellence; and his medical training shines through in the metaphors, illustrations, and analogies that surface on most pages of his work. His insight into human nature is also a major strength of his expositions. One gets the impression that Charnock’s erudite understanding of God enabled him to peer deeply into the human soul and all the sinful peculiarities that beset us even in a state of grace.

Big Book on a Big God

Why should you read Charnock on The Existence and Attributes of God? Quite apart from what has been said above, we should remember that the twentieth century was not a great century for the doctrine of God. Christians today still entertain ideas about God that are unorthodox, perhaps unwittingly due to poor or inadequate teaching. The remedy begins in the pulpit, but it also includes our private and corporate study.

“You are entering a big world as you learn of a big God.”

With the recent reprint of Charnock’s Discourses, pastors can easily access a work that has stood the test of time and read a treatment on God that will illuminate their own preaching. J.I. Packer once remarked to me that the best compliment he could give Martyn Lloyd-Jones was that he “brought God into the pulpit.” When the “Doctor” preached, it was clear God was powerfully present. If pastors are going to bring God into the pulpit, it will not happen if they are not consumed with the same God that Charnock so eloquently writes about.

In addition, whether as a pastor or a layperson, when reading Charnock, you are not simply reading a singular Christian thinker, but someone who widely engaged the broader Christian tradition. You are encountering other thinkers that span many centuries and traditions (even pagan poets and philosophers). You are entering a big world as you learn of a big God.

It is quite an accomplishment to read a work of over 1700 pages, but it seems to me that anyone who thoughtfully and prayerfully tackles this work will never be the same again. This book truly is life-changing. And if you are somewhat intimidated by the size, consider, at the very least, reading the Discourse on God’s goodness, and prepare to fall on your knees before God in humble thankfulness for the manifold mercies that he shows to you each day (many of which you have likely ignored).

It was a pleasure to edit these two volumes by Charnock in the hope of meeting a pressing need in the church today for a more robust, more biblically and theologically informed view of God that will stir not only the minds but also the hearts of God’s people. In my mind, few books from the last several hundred years can quite help the church today like Charnock’s Discourses in the never-to-be-sufficiently praised Existence and Attributes of God.

Last year was a season of losses for me. It started in the spring when I was hospitalized 21 days for double pneumonia. The lung infection was bad enough, but the extended stay in bed left my right arm thick with lymphedema. Some of it was related to my long-ago therapy for cancer, but this was different. After my lungs cleared, I was sent home, but with a bulkier arm that was hard to lift.

Then in late summer, I developed a second respiratory infection, much worse than the first. During another lengthy hospital stay, I noticed more problems with my right arm. The doctors, however, stayed focused on the more life-threatening issue with my lungs. When the infection cleared and I was ready to go home, it was obvious my arm had suffered more damage. The already minuscule muscles I had used to feed myself were gone. Even with my hand splint, I could not lift the spoon to my mouth.

Decades ago, after suffering quadriplegia in the wake of my accident, doctors warned me that my partially paralyzed muscles would atrophy, and I knew that my “good” arm and my fragile lungs would eventually deteriorate. I just didn’t realize how hard it would be, losing the capacity to breathe well and losing my independence at mealtimes. Like I said, it was a tough year.

My flesh is wasting away, and who would blame me if I complained? Certainly not the world — it’s natural for them to expect an old lady in a wheelchair to grumble over her losses. But followers of Jesus Christ should expect more from me. Much more.

Why Do You Quarrel with God?

The Bible first addresses complaining in the book of Exodus. Things start off well enough after the Lord performs a great miracle at the Red Sea. At first, everyone’s ecstatic about walking through a sea parted on either side like glass skyscrapers. With their hearts bursting with joy, the entire fifteenth chapter is one long praise song:

I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously;     the horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea.The Lord is my strength and my song,     and he has become my salvation;this is my God, and I will praise him,     my father’s God, and I will exalt him. (Exodus 15:1–2)

A few verses later, though, their song fizzles. Only 72 hours of traveling in the desert without finding water, they grumble and demand of Moses, “What shall we drink?” (Exodus 15:24).

How ironic that they should complain about water! Didn’t they recall that God had just parted a whole sea of it? Their memory was jogged when God made bitter desert water good enough for them to drink. Yet only a couple of campsites later, they put up another stink about water. This time Moses replies, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” (Exodus 17:2).

Moses sharply rebukes them for disputing with the God who has just wondrously rescued them out of slavery. So, “he called the name of the place Massah and Meribah, because of the quarreling of the people of Israel, and because they tested the Lord by saying, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’” (Exodus 17:7).

Do Not Harden Your Hearts

Nowadays, who among us would dare quarrel with God like that? Yet we do, every time we bellyache, quibble over some inequity, or whine about God’s timing or lack of provision. Even when we mutter (thinking it’s barely audible), all of our bemoaning is an assault against one Person: Jesus, the great I Am, who spilled a red sea of blood to wondrously rescue us out of slavery. When things don’t go our way and we grumble about it, we are inasmuch stamping our foot, crossing our arms, and demanding, “Lord, are you among us or not!”

Psalm 95:7–10 is a repeat of the Exodus debacle, except this time it’s not Moses speaking; it is Yahweh himself. And he has a message for us:

Do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness, when your fathers put me to the test and put me to the proof, though they had seen my work. . . . They are a people who go astray in their heart, and they have not known my ways. (Psalm 95:8–10)

When God’s people make a habit of complaining, they’ve gone astray and abandoned God’s ways.

“If this is what Jesus endured to rescue me, I refuse to dignify any sin that impaled him to that cursed tree.”

“Wait a minute,” some might say. “Cut us some slack — we’re just letting off a little steam.” If complaining were only a slip of the tongue, I might understand — especially if that person were an immature believer. But when a Christian’s default setting is to grumble, it develops into a character trait — a complaining spirit. A rebellious spirit. Some Christians may not see themselves as stiff-necked rebels when they squawk if it rains on their picnic, but Scripture speaks of a complaining spirit far differently.

Trembling over Our Grumbling

Whenever a group of Christians tour Joni and Friends and stop by my office, I like to spend some time and explain to them the reason behind my smile in this wheelchair. After introductions and a few comments, I’ll pick out someone to reach for the Bible on my shelf and flip to the book of Jude (I have the page marked). Then I’ll ask, “Read the fifteenth verse, please.”

Adjusting her glasses, the reader will say,

Behold, the Lord comes with ten thousands of his holy ones, to execute judgment on all and to convict all the ungodly of all their deeds of ungodliness that they have committed in such an ungodly way, and of all the harsh things that ungodly sinners have spoken against him. (Jude 14–15)

“Who are these ungodly people?” I’ll ask. “Pedophiles? Mass murderers? Drug dealers in schoolyards?” A few will nod. I then turn to the one with the Bible and ask her to read the next verse: “These are grumblers, malcontents, following their own sinful desires” (Jude 16).

I close the little lesson, explaining how we tend to think of sin on a sliding scale. We place on one side gross wickedness like barstool swearing and Satan worship, and on the other nitpicking (complaints that appear respectable). We think we are not as ungodly as those evil reprobates who take part in orgies and follow the horoscope. We’re not ungodly at all; we’re merely spewing off about things now and then.

Jude’s scathing judgment, however, proves that God does not split hairs when it comes to sin, especially the sin of complaining. So, he does what we’d consider scandalous: he places grumblers at the top of a sordid list of apostates, connivers, and loud-mouthed boasters “for whom the gloom of utter darkness has been reserved forever” (Jude 13).

It should make us tremble.

My Life Is Not My Own

After those two times in the hospital, I began rigorous home therapy for my damaged lungs. Twice a day, I must wear a tight vest that violently vibrates my chest for fifteen minutes as I inhale steroids through a nebulizer. “How long do I have to keep this up?” I asked my pulmonologist.

“Indefinitely,” he replied, “if you want to live.”

I was numb. That first week I tried to ignore the whole routine, the terrible jackhammering of the vest-machine, as well as the pungent vapors from the nebulizer. I viewed the routine as an unpleasant detour, an inconvenient interruption until I could get back on the main road of life. Ah, but this is your life, I heard the Spirit whisper.

Did I have a right to complain? Actually, I possess no real rights. I laid them all at the foot of the cross, agreeing with 1 Corinthians 6:19–20: “You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” The Son of God was ripped to shreds, and then hung up to drain like a bloodied piece of meat on a hook. And if this is what Jesus endured to rescue me, I refuse to dignify any sin that impaled him to that cursed tree.

I will not coddle anything that helped drive the nails deeper. I relinquished my right to complain so that I might glorify Almighty God through my hardships. Anything less shrinks my soul.

Woes of a Complaining Spirit

A complaining spirit abuses the kindness of Christ, for God “raised us up with [Christ] . . . so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:6–7). God will one day raise us up to showcase the riches and kindness of his grace through us. I dare not diminish that glorious moment with a negative tongue. A grumbling spirit would only prove from heaven that I viewed his kindness as sorely lacking to me on earth.

A complaining spirit reveals a warped understanding of God’s ways with suffering. Through the years, Christ has used my quadriplegia to wrench my heart off of this world and affix it to his own. Jesus has captured my heart, totally ruining me for worldly delights (thus lessening any tendency to complain). My satisfaction is not bound to earthly things; I have been set free to pursue the joys of eternity (2 Corinthians 4:18). Complaining lessens the eternal reward my suffering might have gained. It shrinks my heavenly inheritance.

A complaining spirit weakens our confidence in God’s promises. Psalm 106:24–25 says, “Then they despised the pleasant land, having no faith in his promise. They murmured in their tents, and did not obey the voice of the Lord.” The Christian who wallows in complaining is tempted to believe that God might leave him, that God isn’t always helpful in times of trouble, or that divine grace is lacking for every need. He’s increasingly suspicious whether God’s word is always trustworthy. He feels that suffering is not worth what little eternal benefit it earns (Hebrews 13:5; Psalm 46:1; 2 Corinthians 12:9; Psalm 62:8; 2 Corinthians 4:17).

Chest-percussion therapy at home was a kick in the right direction. Without wasting another week, I decided to use that time to memorize Scripture. My husband opened the white three-ring binder containing passages I’ve either memorized or am in the process of learning by heart. He placed the binder on my bed where I could see it, and while the nebulizer hissed, and the vest rattled my chest, I memorized a batch of Scriptures. Ephesians 1 and part of chapter 2 have become an inoculation against any thought of murmuring, as has the Nicene Creed and Psalms 84, 92, and 121.

I’m sure you’d agree that suffering naturally contains the seeds of complaining. But when cultivated by the Spirit of God, suffering “yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” (Hebrews 12:11).

Grumbling Is a Contagious Disease

Every morning a girlfriend or two arrives at our home to start the coffee and give me a bed bath, do toileting routines, get me dressed, and sit me up in my wheelchair. Sometimes I can hear them in the kitchen getting things ready, and I think, Lord, I’m in enormous pain, and I have no strength for this day, let alone for these dear helpers. I have no smile for them. But you do! So, please let me borrow your smile.

By the time they open the bedroom door with a fresh cup of coffee, my attitude has been cast for the day. I have God’s smiling grace. I am ready to serve them as they serve me. Ephesians 4:16 says we are one with other believers, and we are expected to act like it: “From [Christ] the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.” My work in the body is to build others up, facing my problems with them in mind.

If I were to growl about my pain and paralysis, it would diminish the spiritual walk of these girls. It would sow negative seeds of discord, releasing them to complain about their own headaches and hardships. This exact thing happened in Numbers 14:36–37: “The men whom Moses sent to spy out the land . . . returned and made all the congregation grumble against him by bringing up a bad report about the land.”

I cannot provide a better service to the people around me, including the girls who help me in the morning, than to not complain.

Will We Expect More of Us?

Whatever happened to my arm and the problem with feeding myself? Well, it never got better, but I don’t want any complaint to dare shrink my soul, dishonor my Lord, diminish my inheritance, or impact others negatively.

So, every Friday evening, my neighbor Kristen comes to our house around mealtime to cut up my food and lift it to my mouth so that I can enjoy dinner while my husband enjoys his. But to make sure I don’t allow myself a centimeter of self-pity, I’ll always take a moment to bless her hands: “Lord, shine your favor on Kristen, who is serving you tonight by serving me” (Colossians 3:23–24). The blessing probably helps me as much as it does her.

Do I sound like a saint on a pedestal? Hardly. For I should not be the exception. After all, Titus 2:7 was written for all of us: “Show yourself in all respects to be a model of good works.” And there’s nothing good about a complaining spirit. Yes, followers of Jesus Christ should expect more from one another. Much more.