Why Should Christians Care about Church History?
Written by Michael A.G. Haykin |
Tuesday, February 7, 2023
We study the history of God’s people to see what God has been doing in the world, and so praise him for his mighty acts in the past, and trust that he will display his power and glory afresh in our day.
How We View History
In Jane Austen’s novel Northanger Abbey, one of the characters, Catherine Morland, states that history “tells me nothing that does not either vex or weary me.”1In many respects, this statement is a good reflection of the contemporary Western attitude towards history. Generally speaking, men and women in the West rarely think of going to history for wisdom or direction or encouragement. History, at best, contains interesting and entertaining bits of trivia. But wisdom? No, that’s found by looking to the present and to the future. Yet, a popular Russian proverb warns: “He who dwells on the past loses an eye; but he who forgets the past loses both eyes.”2
It should also be borne in mind that the area of the West in which we are living, namely, North America, is even more allergic to the study of history than places like Europe, because there is less stimulus in the surroundings of North American culture and society to arouse historical curiosity. Of course, there are places like the old quarter of Quebec City that are rich in history, but certainly they are not as many as in other parts of the world.
Tragically, this attitude towards history is also characteristic of far too many Christians. Like their culture, they are in the grip of a euphoria that places ultimate value on that which is new and innovative. This mentalité inevitably involves a dislike of the past. Whatever value the inheritance from the past may have had for its own day, much current church wisdom would have us believe that that value is now so diminished that it can easily be discounted in any reckoning about how to do church. Not only is this mentalité folly—we have no idea of where we are going if we do not know where we have come from—but it is at heart a clear manifestation of worldliness! As what follows will show, however, it is vital for Christians to care about church history.
History Has Meaning
Men and women are historical beings immersed in the flow of time. One cannot escape the effects of history. Even to think ahistorically for any length of time is a considerable task.
Not only is it important for the individual to realize his or her historical nature, but it is also essential for the community, especially the Christian community. For the Christian community, history is the stage on which the drama of redemption is being displayed—at the beginning is the Fall, at the end is the Last Judgment. In between, the most crucial event of all, the entry of the eternal God into time as a man, Jesus Christ, the Word incarnate. From the perspective of the New Testament, the incarnation is the culmination of the history of salvation sketched in the Old Testament.3 The incarnation proves beyond a shadow of a doubt God’s interest in history, for it initiated a history of salvation that embraces not only Israel, but the entire world.4
From the Christian perspective, God is undoubtedly active in history. And it is right and proper to study history for that reason alone. Though it is impossible to trace in detail his footsteps across the sands of time after the eras covered by the Scriptures, it is blasphemous to deny that he is at work. His work may often be hidden, but it is biblical to confess heartily that he is providentially guiding history for the glory of his name and the good of his people.
Learning from the Past
But there are other good reasons for studying what we call church history, the history of God’s new covenant people. It has been said, “A wise man learns from his mistakes; a wiser man learns from the mistakes of others; a fool learns from neither of them.” Here, then, is one of the more obvious reasons for studying church history: to learn from the mistakes of the past. Again, to cite the words of a famous proverb: “He who does not remember the past is doomed to repeat it.” Thus, for example, we can study the configurations of fourth-century Arianism that denied the full deity of the Lord Jesus to help us win those who have bought into the heretical views of Christ maintained by modern-day Jehovah’s Witnesses.
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The Good Shepherd Gives and Takes Sleep
The Good Shepherd is with us in our sleepless nights, and your lack of sleep is no reason to think otherwise. When your anxious thoughts or fiery darts from the enemy assail you, remember your Good Shepherd. Remember how he cried tears of blood and hung on the cross to pay for your sins. Remember how he rose from the dead on the third day. Remember that he didn’t leave you as an orphan, even on your darkest, longest nights.
It’s 2:34 a.m. My room is faintly lit by tiny, glowing LED lights recharging for tomorrow. I wish I could shut down, plug myself in, and crawl my way toward 100% capacity like my phone. Instead, the adrenaline surges through my now awake body with an inescapable sense of dread. Not again. Yes, it’s happening again. The loneliness of this dark room grips me in its clutches as I notice the hum of the refrigerator, the swooshing car that just sped past, and my dog obnoxiously lapping water from his dish. I fail to get comfortable, and my body and mind are ready for a new day to begin. The clock tells me otherwise—it’s now 3:45 am.
This doesn’t happen every night, but insomnia has become a friend who tries to stick closer than a brother. Some nights I’m tired enough to drift off after a couple of hours of listless tossing and turning. On other nights, I simply get out of bed at 3:00 a.m. and start my day. There’s a faint hope that my body will realize the time and start the cascade of falling asleep again before my 6:30 a.m. alarm. Usually, this happens. Sometimes it doesn’t.
Insomnia filters the world with a darker hue. Yet, the light shines in the darkness.
Though I keep the lights dim while I’m limping through these middle-of-the-night adventures, the Light of the world shines bright. On the verge of tears, I often utter the weak prayer, “Lord, help me get through this.” The Holy Spirit groans on my behalf with groanings too deep for words, and I know my Good Shepherd doesn’t leave me to wander in the pitch-black shadows all alone. He is here with me.
When insomnia creeps in at 3:00 a.m., my theology becomes more concrete than ever. The Good Shepherd tells me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). Having a good theology of suffering is easy when I’m feeling strong and self-sufficient. I think to myself, “Look at God pouring out abundant grace” in my successful and prosperous days. Leaning on the everlasting arm comes when I’m sleep-deprived, irritable, and just want to get some shuteye before our little ones start stirring tomorrow morning.
Though my struggles with poor sleep are minuscule when compared to the intense suffering of many other believers, they still draw me to rely on God. I’m forced to cling to biblical promises and cry out in faith for the Lord’s help. When sleep becomes an infrequent visitor who leaves in a hurry, I remember my God who never sleeps (Ps. 121:4). He lingers to keep me company, even during the night watch. He comforts me until I drift off and greets me as the sunbeams burst through my curtains, beckoning me to look for new mercies.
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Is It Possible to Suffer Well?
You could experience a baker’s dozen of serious issues layered one on top of another. Financial pressures. Health pressures. Relationship pressures. Spiritual warfare pressures. The pressure of unthinkable grief or cruel pain. It will not crush you if you believe Christ is in it. All that matters is knowing Jesus is walking in the fiery furnace with you. The pain may feel white-hot, but be encouraged—his “peace like a river” is able to quench every anxiety and fear.
It Is Well
When peace like a river attendeth my way,When sorrows like sea billows roll;Whatever my lot thou hast taught me to say,“It is well, it is well with my soul!It is well with my soul;It is well, it is well with my soul!—Horatio Spafford (1876)
He Is Enough
When Paul spoke of being hard-pressed on every side, he wasn’t speaking lightly. He wasn’t saying, Whew, things were a little tough for a while. He was describing pain that was so oppressive that he “despaired of life itself ” (2 Cor. 1:8). How in the same sentence can Paul be pressed in like that, yet not be crushed? Nancy Severns knows the answer. She has been bedridden for five years with pain from Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a debilitating disorder that affects her entire body, inside and out—her ribs even slip out of place! When all feels torturous, Nancy slowly inhales and calmly acknowledges the pain. She then enters it much like the three Hebrews entering Nebuchadnezzar’s fiery furnace. There in the middle of hellish, white-hot agony, she finds the Son of God. And she feels his protective embrace.
I do the same thing. When the fangs of pain sink into my hips and lower back, it’s a signal to begin deep breathing. I then walk into the pain and hold it near me, even have a conversation with it. I don’t fret and say, This is killing me, or, I can’t stand this, or Oh, no, not again! Words like that are fraught with anxiety, and we all know that fear only exacerbates the problem. Instead, like Nancy, I serenely acknowledge the pain and allow it to press me in on all sides, and then I take one more step of faith.
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When We Cannot Stop the Tears
What do we do when all we can see is the aftermath of another tragedy? The only thing we can do is look up. Look, and remember that there is coming a Rescuer who will once and for all put an end to this terrible pain. He will come sweeping across the clouds, the righteous King for whom our broken hearts yearn. He’ll silence the laughter of the wicked, put an end to the love of evil.
I held her in my arms as my blouse absorbed her tears. Her little hands were clasped together behind my neck. I felt her exhale, then relax. Her crying ceased at last. I wanted to take all of the pain in her little heart and carry it myself. I wanted to somehow cry the tears for her. I wanted my heart to rip instead of hers. I wanted to take the sorrow that touched this child I love and run with it so that she could never again find it.
To love someone is such a beautiful and painful thing. It’s love that fills and breaks the hearts within us.
I didn’t cry while I held her. I dabbed her tears with the sleeve of my sweater. I found her favorite toy and we sat by the window together to read a book. Not for the first time, I read the story of the house where everyone was napping. I imitated the voices of the characters, exaggerating their tones and facial expressions. The tears on her face began to dry. She laughed as I bounced her up in the air when the character in our story awoke at last. She looked up at me. Her blue eyes were so young. In them I could still see traces of her tears. I smiled back, willing away the tears of my own that threatened to emerge.
It wasn’t until I was alone in my car that I finally cried. I cried because this world is broken and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I can’t make the world a place where the ones I love no longer hurt.
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