We may rightly regard Calvin as a hero of the faith, but he didn’t ultimately see himself that way. Humility had taught him to walk modestly before God and others—and, in the end, the freedom to lie down in a forgotten grave.

On May 27, 1564, just after eight o’clock in the evening, a nurse urgently summoned Theodore Beza (1519–1605) to Calvin’s bedside. “We found he had already died,” Calvin’s friend and fellow pastor later wrote. “On that day, then, at the same time with the setting sun, this splendid luminary was withdrawn from us.”1 Calvin was 54 years old.
Calvin’s death sent a shock wave throughout Geneva and beyond. Beza writes, “That night and the following day there was a general lamentation throughout the city . . . all lamenting the loss of one who was, under God, a common parent and comfort.” He records that two days later “the entire city” gathered at the St. Pierre Cathedral to honor their beloved pastor. Despite Calvin’s prominence, the funeral was unusually simple, “with no extraordinary pomp.”2 But Calvin’s burial was particularly unusual.
Unmarked Grave
Eighteen years earlier, on February 18, 1546, fellow Reformer Martin Luther died at the age of 63. As was common practice for ministers, Luther’s remains were interred inside the church where he had faithfully served. His casket lies in Wittenberg’s Castle Church, near the pulpit, seven feet below the floor of the nave. Luther’s successor and fellow Reformer, Philip Melanchthon (1490–1560), is buried beside him.
So also William Farel (1489–1565), who first called Calvin to Geneva in 1536, is buried in the cathedral of Neuchâtel, where he spent the final years of his ministry. When Calvin’s friend and successor Theodore Beza died in 1605, he was buried next to the pulpit of St. Pierre, the Genevan church in which he and Calvin ministered together.
But Calvin’s remains lie elsewhere.
Rather than being interred in St. Pierre, Calvin’s body was carried outside the city wall to a marshy burial ground for commoners called Plainpalais. With close friends in attendance, Calvin’s body was wrapped in a simple shroud, enclosed in a rough casket, and lowered into the earth. Beza writes that Calvin’s plot was unlisted and, “as he [had] commanded, without any gravestone.”3
Why did Calvin command that he be buried, contrary to common practice, in an unmarked grave? Some speculate that he wanted to discourage religious pilgrims from visiting his resting place or to prevent accusations from the Roman church that he desired veneration as a saint.4 But the answer lies somewhere deeper — in Calvin’s understanding of Christian modesty.
Forgotten Meaning of Modesty
When we speak of modesty today, we most often mean dressing or behaving in such a way as to avoid impropriety or indecency. But modesty more generally refers to the quality of being unassuming or moderate in the estimation of oneself. For centuries, the church understood the connection. Immodest dress was not simply ostentatious or sexually suggestive; it reflected an overemphasis on appearance. As Jesus warned, outward appearance can mask impiety (Matthew 6:16) or pride (Luke 18:12).
This is why both Gentile women converts in Ephesus and the Jewish Christians addressed in Hebrews are urged to consider how their outward appearance relates to the disposition of the heart. Excessive adornment could be evidence of self-importance (1 Timothy 2:9). Acceptable worship requires a posture of reverence, not pretension (Hebrews 12:28). Thus, a modest person represents himself neither too highly nor too meanly because he understands both the dignity and the humility of being transformed by the grace of God.
Modesty, then, is simply the outward reflection of true Christian humility. It obliterates pride by embracing the reality that a Christian is both creaturely and beloved. In this light, self-importance becomes absurd. Grandiosity becomes laughable. Celebrity becomes monstrous.
We Are Not Our Own
For Calvin, the gospel radically reshapes our view of self. As those created in God’s image, provisioned by his goodness, redeemed by his mercy, transformed by his grace, and called to his mission, those who belong to Christ no longer live for themselves. “Now the great thing is this,” Calvin writes, “we are consecrated and dedicated to God in order that we may thereafter think, speak, meditate, and do, nothing except to his glory.” Calvin continues,
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While there are real reasons to be cautious and critical of key dimensions of Peterson’s broader message, churches have much to learn from reflection upon the reasons why he resonates with so many young men. 

The Canadian psychologist Jordan Peterson, author of the bestselling books 12 Rules for Life and Beyond Order, has exploded into mainstream evangelical consciousness in recent years. While Peterson has been quietly building up an extensive following for a few years now, many people who had not previously heard of Peterson have been surprised and often confused by the strength and the character of his appeal.
What is Drawing Young Men to Peterson?
Perhaps one of the most striking features of Peterson’s appeal is how male-weighted it is. While Peterson never set out to speak particularly to men and many women have been highly appreciative of his work, his teaching has peculiarly resonated with young men, inviting comment from both his critics and those who are more welcoming of his message. Peterson’s appeal to young evangelical men has been especially pronounced, a fact that provokes challenging questions about what it might be that evangelical men are finding in Peterson that they are not finding in their churches.
While it may be tempting to regard Peterson’s male-weighted appeal as proof that his message is somehow unbalanced, the assumption that all truth must be equally appealing to all persons is not a warranted one. There are some dimensions of the truth that will peculiarly resonate with certain persons, especially in contexts where they are not being spoken to by existing voices. Throughout the West, men are significantly outnumbered by women in churches and complaints about the supposed ‘feminization’ of the church have been exciting conversation and controversy for a few decades now. Perhaps there is something to which we should be paying attention here.
Listening closely to what both Peterson and his appreciative male followers have to say, a few things especially stand out to me. Foremost among these is the fact that Peterson displays a genuine compassion and concern for young men, and for young men as particular persons, not just as an abstract class. Peterson, as someone who is fiercely critical of ideology in general, observes and challenges much of the ideological flak to which young men are exposed by the culturally regnant orthodoxies of feminism. However, unlike many others, Peterson isn’t driven by some countervailing ideology so much as by a palpable compassion for the victims of established ideologies, young men who have been stigmatized, told that they are toxic and patriarchal, stifled, and who are increasingly marginalized or discarded by society and its institutions. I have seen countless figures on the right who want to score petty ideological points against feminists raise the issues of young men: it is Peterson’s compassion for young men as particular persons that sets him apart.
We all, conservative Christians as much, if not more, than others, are in danger of theologies and ideologies that eclipse persons, reducing them to (actual or potential) avatars of—or obstacles to the outworking of—our abstract ideological systems. People recognize this and close themselves off to us. Foregrounding persons in their concrete particularity and unfeignedly desiring and seeking their good is hugely important, not because it matters for ideological persuasion, but because people matter. Men respond to Peterson because he does this for them, but this is a posture that desperately needs to become characteristic of our relationship to every person.
Responding to Responsibility
Men are not unaccustomed to being told about their responsibility. In the society at large, they are castigated as a class for their responsibility for the oppressive structures and operations of ‘patriarchal’ society. In the church, they are often harangued to take responsibility and berated for their many failures. Responsibility is all too often handled as a legalistic rod to beat men down with or a condemnation upon them, rather than as an evangelical declaration of their God-given vocation and an accompanying gracious encouragement and building up of them so that they can live this out well.
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Written by Megan Hill and Melissa B. Kruger |
Friday, May 24, 2024
The world says, “Follow your heart” and “Be true to yourself,” but Jesus says, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24). According to Jesus, obedience means laying aside our love of comfort in order to pursue obedience. This is hard to do! But God provides help in the form of self-control, a strong ally in our struggle with sin. As the Spirit works within us, he frees us to be the kind of people who can say no to what feels good so we might say yes to what is good.—Sharonda Cooper

1. The fruit of the Spirit points us to Jesus.
The fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22–23 is a familiar list of virtues. You may have memorized it or learned a childhood song based on it. On good days, it’s an encouraging list—a reminder that the Spirit is at work in you. On bad days, it can be a crushing list—a testimony to how far you have yet to go. But the fruit of the Spirit isn’t merely intended for self-examination. The list of fruit in Paul’s epistle points us upward, away from ourselves, toward our Savior. Jesus is the only perfectly loving man, the only perfectly joyful man, the only perfectly peaceful man. Day after day in his earthly ministry, and still to this very minute, he kept in step with the Spirit (Gal. 5:25). And he did this for us. He was patient where we are not, kind where we fail, and good where we stumble. His is the perfect righteousness for all who lack faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. As we abide in him, we become like him, bearing good fruit that will last. Do you want to know what Jesus is like and what he accomplished on your behalf? Savor the fruit of the Spirit.—Megan Hill and Melissa Kruger
2. Love is more than a feeling.
One thing you should know about love is that it’s not actually a feeling at all. In fact, more often than not, love is a choice we make or an action we take in spite of our feelings. It’s also something we simply cannot conjure up within ourselves—because love comes from God. The good news is that though love may feel completely unnatural (you can hardly “fall” into it), God’s word tells us that it leads to joy. Jesus issues a command to his followers to “love one another . . . that [their] joy may be full” (John 15:11–12). Somehow, the sacrificial prioritization of another leads to fullness of joy.—Abbey Wedgeworth
3. Joy refreshes our hearts.
Warm weather and longer days—we’re eager to get outdoors and breathe in spring. There’s nothing like fresh air and sunshine to strengthen our winter-weary spirits. But the reality of our routine so often limits those refreshing hours. When confined to a house, an office, a car, or, for some of us, a bed, brisk walks in the sunshine are a luxury. How wonderful that in Christ, refreshment is ours indoors or out, at work or in the pickup line, and even on a sickbed. Renewed strength of all kinds is the fruit of rejoicing. As we delight in God, we are renewed in every way. Joy comes to those who fix their gaze on him in his word, because that’s how we find what his people have always found: “The joy of the Lord is your strength” (Neh. 8:10).—Lydia Brownback
4. Peace is possible. Right now.
Peace is possible. For you. Right now. You might be thinking, “You don’t know what I’m going through,” and you’re right. There are seasons and situations when peace seems unattainable. But Jesus not only purchased peace on the cross (Col. 1:20), he has made that peace readily and abundantly available (John 14:27). Paul wrote in Colossians, “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts.” The word “rule” means “to act like an umpire.”
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