You Don’t Know When Your Last Sermon Will Be
As history’s most widely read preacher, Spurgeon is probably quoted more than any other pastor—25 million words of his sermons are available in 63 printed volumes. The London pastor’s life was marked by suffering, opposition, loss, depression, and physical pain. “Imagine placing your foot in a vice,” he said, describing his gout, “and tightening the vice as far as it will go.” Yet Sunday after Sunday, he stood and delivered. On June 7, 1891, a sick Spurgeon preached what would be his last sermon, on 1 Samuel 30:21–26.
Jesus preached his last public sermon on or about Tuesday, March 31, AD 33.
The message, found in Matthew 23:1–39, warns against hypocrisy—especially of proud preachers who “preach, but do not practice.” On Friday, April 3, history’s greatest preacher was executed outside Jerusalem in history’s most extraordinary display of humility.
Three days separated his last sermon from his last breath.
Every pastor will preach his last sermon—but unlike Jesus, most of them won’t know it. Here are a few examples from history.
John Calvin
John Calvin led world-changing reforms and wrote commentaries on 48 books of the Bible. J. I. Packer called his Institutes “one of the wonders of the literary world.” Through it all, Calvin maintained an incomprehensible preaching schedule: twice on Sunday and several times during the week for a total of “10 new sermons every 14 days.”
But on February 6, 1564, the toll on his body was clear to all as he was carried to church in a chair. Theodore Beza reported that Calvin preached with “asthma impeding his utterance” (understood as a fit of coughing that filled his mouth with blood). In physical pain and weakness, the reformer preached his last sermon.
I’ve found no record of Calvin’s text that day, but on his deathbed, he completed his commentary on Joshua. In the introduction, he observes that God raises up gifted leaders for his church and then takes them away, but “he has others in readiness to supply their place . . . his mighty power is not tied down to them, but he is able, as often as seems to him good, to find fit successors.”
Days later, John Calvin died at age 54 on May 27, 1564. He was buried in an unmarked grave.
John Flavel
Calvin’s work influenced John Flavel, who preached for 41 years in circumstances most American pastors would consider intolerable. Educated at Oxford, he was renowned for expositing Scripture and preaching to the heart. But under King Charles II, the state dictated what England’s churches could preach, how they could worship, and whether they could meet.
As a dissenting pastor, Flavel was excommunicated from his church and forbidden to come within five miles of it. He preached illegally for years—in his own home, in the homes of others, or in the woods late at night, caring for the flock entrusted to his care. Along the way, he managed to publish enough works to fill six large volumes that would deeply influence later generations of preachers, including Jonathan Edwards and George Whitefield.
On June 21, 1691, Flavel visited Exeter and preached on 1 Corinthians 10:12: “Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.” Five days later, he died of a stroke at age 64.
Jonathan Edwards
Flavel profoundly influenced Jonathan Edwards, “the most brilliant of all American theologians.” While 17 of Edwards’s sermons were published in his lifetime, many more have been published since. His works now fill 26 volumes published by Yale University Press. Edwards has the distinction of delivering America’s most famous sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.”
His farewell sermon at Stockbridge, Massachusetts—on January 15, 1758—is his last recorded sermon in the Yale collection. Edwards’s text that day was Luke 21:36. The extant notes are slim but they’re vintage Edwards, holding forth law and gospel.
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Troubled and Thankful
Mediate upon your glorious God and how His character is perfectly matched to meet your need. Then have a single-minded devotion for the LORD to be glorified even in your troubles. That is the pathway to be troubled and thankful. At the end of the day, although David’s trouble was great, he saw his God as greater. And although his affliction was heavy, he saw the glory of God to be weightier. This is what enabled David to give thanks in his trouble.
A few years ago, I read a news report about a woman who had been kicked off her airline flight because her “emotional support pig” became disruptive. The article explained that support animals had become an increasingly common way for people to cope with stress. Now, I do not know whether such a thing is helpful. In fact, since reading that report, it crossed my mind while flying that I would prefer a support pig in the seat next to me instead of the current occupant. But what I do know is that people are looking for any and every way to cope with life’s troubles.
For many, holidays are a mixture of joy and sadness. For some, a loved one died around a holiday or it is the first holiday since he or she passed. That memory becomes an ever-present reality amidst all the festivities. For others, the holidays reopen the wounds of a strained or broken relationship. Whatever the case may be, many people find themselves feeling troubled during the holidays. Therefore, how should Christians process the stress and heartaches of life, especially as we approach a holiday like Thanksgiving? How do I give thanks when my spirit is deeply troubled?
The good news is that Scripture offers us a surer and a more lasting way to respond to the troubles in our life. As I have faced my own trials, Psalm 86 has been of great encouragement to me.
Psalm 86
David’s psalm has a solemn and somber mood to it. It is called a psalm of lament. David feels alone, isolated, and troubled. He ultimately cries out for God’s help and deliverance. The specific trouble is not revealed until verse 14 where David announces that there are men seeking to kill him.
Now, this should cause us to pay close attention because David’s trouble is not a trivial thing. Whatever your trouble may be, it is likely that it is not someone trying to take your life. My point is not to say, “Whatever trouble you’re facing, David had it worse.” One answer the world gives to cope with our problems is to remind us that there is always someone who has it worse. But that is not my intention, nor is it the way Scripture addresses our troubles. I do not seek to diminish or dismiss whatever trouble you are facing right now, but to emphasize that David’s example can encourage you because he is in a very dark place. And if God can help David there, he can surely help you wherever you are.
Furthermore, amid men seeking to kill him, David is brought to say, “I will give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with all my heart” (v. 12). And this thanksgiving is expressed to the Lord before David tells the Lord what troubles him or before he asks the Lord to be delivered from his plight. He is troubled and thankful.
But how do we get there? Well, David shows us the way.
David Meditates Upon His Need for the LORD
Even though David feels overwhelmed by his circumstances, he is driven to God in prayer. What is remarkable about his prayer is how long it takes him to give the details of his problem. I often find the first thing I do is express my problem to God. But that is not where David begins.
In verses 1-4, David recognizes his needy condition and comes to God in complete and utter dependence. He knows there is nothing he can do for himself and comes like a child to his father who knows there is no one else who can truly help him.
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A Time for Confidence
Theologians refer to Christ’s work in terms of His active obedience and His passive obedience. In His passive obedience, He paid the penalty for sin; He atoned for sin. In His active righteousness, He earned righteousness on our behalf. No other message and no other means can save us or deliver us. Paul spent decades and piled effort upon effort in attempts to white-knuckle his way to God. All to no avail. Then, on the road to Damascus, Saul came to an end as Christ, “the Man in white,“ brought Paul to Himself.
Paul was likely one of the most intelligent people to have ever lived. He certainly is one of the best writers. He was extremely ambitious. He knew adversity, yet he persevered. If anyone “thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh,” Paul tells us, “I have more” (Phil. 3:4).
Yet, Paul realizes that “whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ” (v. 7). He counts all his accomplishments, all his strivings after righteousness, as “rubbish,” a polite word for “dung.” All of Paul’s abilities and accomplishments simply serve to underscore his utter inability to achieve righteousness.
Instead of putting his confidence in the flesh, Paul learned to put his confidence in Christ and in the gospel. Paul wanted to be found in Christ. He writes, “That I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith” (v. 9). The theologian Francis Turretin expresses it this way:
God grant that, dismissing a vain confidence in our own merit, we may rest in the most perfect merit of Christ alone and so keep faithful in him and fight the good fight even unto the end that we might receive the crown of righteousness; due not to our merit, but most graciously promised to us from the heavenly rewarder.
Johnny Cash wrote a novel on the life of the Apostle Paul. Yes, one of country music’s icons and one of American music’s legends wrote a biography of Paul. Cash called it The Man in White, and it is a piece of genius. The “man in white” is actually not Paul. It’s Christ. Therein lies Cash’s genius. (Similarly, Augustine is not the main character in his autobiographical Confessions. God is.) Paul is not the main character in Cash’s biography. He’s the prominent and predominant character as the pages unfold. But all along, we get the sense that there is far more to the story than what we are seeing on the page. Behind the scenes of Paul’s life, there is One at work, orchestrating all the details to one desired end and one certain outcome.
Paul knew he had to put his confidence in the gospel, because nothing else can turn the human heart and nothing else solves the human dilemma. People think the human dilemma is many things. Some say it’s poverty or the unjust distribution of resources and wealth. Some say it’s war and our penchant for war. Some simply think the human dilemma is internal and psychological. As R.C. Sproul has often said, “The human dilemma is this: God is holy, and we are not. God is righteous, and we are not.” Our problem is not lack or abundance of wealth or resources. Our problem is not that we are a few degrees short of finding utopia. Our problem is the wrath of a holy God. No amount of righteousness that we might produce can solve that dilemma. Paul testifies to only one solution: the righteousness that comes through faith in Christ.
When we think of Luther’s main doctrine, we think of justification by faith alone. That doctrine hinges upon one word. In fact, the entire Reformation and the protest the Reformers launched against the Roman Catholic Church could very well be summed up in this one word: imputation. The doctrine of imputation teaches that our sin, which cuts us off and alienates us from a holy God, gets imputed to Christ. Christ paid the penalty for our sin, and so our sins are forgiven. The doctrine of imputation also teaches that Christ’s righteousness gets imputed to us. If Christ’s work only accomplished the forgiveness of sins, we would be right back to where we were in the garden before Adam and Eve ate of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
Christ’s work overcame the curse and restored “Paradise lost.” Christ’s work also leads to “Paradise regained.” We now stand in the very presence of God clothed in Christ’s righteousness. The “Man in white” took our filthy rags and gave us His white, pure, and righteous robe. Paul says it plainly in 2 Corinthians 5:21: “He who knew no sin became sin for us that we might become the righteousness of God.”
Theologians refer to Christ’s work in terms of His active obedience and His passive obedience. In His passive obedience, He paid the penalty for sin; He atoned for sin. In His active righteousness, He earned righteousness on our behalf. No other message and no other means can save us or deliver us. Paul spent decades and piled effort upon effort in attempts to white-knuckle his way to God. All to no avail.
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“You Are the Salt of the Earth” (Matthew 5:13): Influence or Invitation?
Cultural influence and societal impact cannot be used as a barometer of the “saltiness” enjoined in Matthew 5:13. Inasmuch as the church is faithful in “making disciples of all nations: baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (28:19–20), the unparalleled flavor of the kingdom of God, with the Savior-King himself, will be present to the end of the age.
Abstract
Jesus identifies the disciples as “the salt of the earth” (Matt 5:13), which many commentators understand as a call for believers to be a part of preserving and influencing human society for the good. This article argues that “salt of the earth” is to be read as the church’s calling to participate in the flavor of the redemptive kingdom of heaven, and by extension to invite those outside to share in the feast of the new creation reality. This reading interprets the metonymic “salt” saying in light of the new temple theme in the Sermon on the Mount.
Samin Nosrat in her terrific culinary book Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat writes, “James Beard, the father of modern American cookery, once asked, ‘Where would we be without salt?’ I know the answer: adrift in a sea of blandness. If only one lesson of this book stays with you, let it be this: salt has a greater impact on flavor than any other ingredient.” Nosrat asserts, “in fact, we’re hardwired to crave salt to ensure we get enough of it.”1
Christians understand “the salt of the earth” as one of the master-metaphors of our relationship to wider human society. Whenever the church’s witness with respect to the unbelieving world is discussed, our calling as “salt and light” is often one of the first identifications to be invoked, and rightly so. The Lord Jesus designates his disciples as the “salt of the earth” and “light of the world” (Matt 5:13–14) immediately following the mountain-top benediction he pronounces upon them in the Beatitudes (Matt 5:1–12). If the Beatitudes are the kingdom constitution, then being “salt and light” is how the citizens of the kingdom are to walk in holy-distinction from the course of a world that has its own charter centered in the sinful self with its deceitful desires (cf. Eph 2:2, 4:22).
Because it is such a foundational image, understanding the nature and purpose the image of “salt” in Matthew 5:13 is vital. In this article I argue that the church fulfills her calling as “the salt of the earth” in serving as the taste of the kingdom of heaven, and that in doing so the body of Christ invites the world to the feast of life in the kingdom. Put differently, “you are the salt of the earth” is not referring to the flavor and seasoning believers bring to human life and society. It is rather to be taken as signifying the beginnings of the heavenly banquet whose foretaste is found in the church of Christ. Like the pomegranates, figs, and grapes brought back to Israel in the wilderness by the spies (Num 13:23, 26), believers’ communion in life as the ‘salt of the earth’ is a proleptic experience of the fullness of the age to come.2
The related designation in Matthew 5:14, “you are the light of the world,” is consistent with the invitational dimension I will argue also applies to the salt in 5:13. What is the purpose of the light, and why is the “city set on a hill”? The answer: “that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (5:16 ESV). In other words, the goal is for those who see the light reflected in the disciples will add their voices to the kingdom chorus and join the procession to Zion. Those in the darkness who encounter the lighthouse are to ascend the hill to the source of the shining: “For behold, darkness shall cover the earth; and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you. And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising” (Isa 60:2–3, emphasis mine). Meredith Kline asserts: “the mission of the old menorah-temple and that of the new menorah-church alike is to summon men out of all nations to the holy city on Har Magedon (whether the old earthly, typological Jerusalem or the new, heavenly Jerusalem), to call them on a faith pilgrimage to the altar of atonement and the throne of grace. The mission of the menorah community, old and new, is to light the way to the Father’s house.”3
Similarly, the purpose of the disciples acting as salt is to call the nations to come to the table-fellowship of the kingdom of God. Here too Jesus is fulfilling the word of the prophets in announcing the beginning of the eschatological banquet: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined” (Isa 25:6). Later in the Gospel, Jesus announces in light of the Gentile centurion’s faith, “I tell you, many will come from east and west and recline at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 8:11). Thus I maintain that the salt-keeping life of the disciples is an invitation for this grand final feast, just as the shining of the light is a glimpse of the eternal light of the Lamb in glory (cf. Rev 19:7; 21:23).
1. Salt as Fertilizer?
Anthony Bradley in a provocatively titled article, “You Are the Manure of the Earth,” makes the case that the agricultural use of salt-as-fertilizer is the best way to take Luke 14:34–35 (a parallel passage to Matt 5:13). Bradley states, “If we are supposed to be salt in the agricultural sense, that means we are supposed to get messy and to go where nothing is growing right now.”4 But is scattering salt on the ground (like Johnny Appleseed scattering seeds hither and yon) really a plausible way to take this metaphor? Wouldn’t scattering seed (cf. Matt 13:1–23) be the more fitting metaphor if fecundity and growth is in view? Bradley reaches this conclusion partly because Jesus says that if the salt has lost its taste, “it is of no use either for the soil or for the manure pile. It is thrown away” (Luke 14:35). It is clear however that Jesus is referring in verse 35 not to good salt but to bad salt. In a manner of speaking, flavorless salt is of no benefit whatsoever, not even to be used as fertilizer. But it does not follow that the “good salt” was originally intended to be utilized as plant food. The Lukan teaching is that the ‘worth’ of salt-less salt is even less than manure.
Regarding taking the image of salt as a form of fertilizer, W. F. Albright and C. S. Mann comment, “Though salts of various kinds are necessary to the fertility of the soil, oversalination can and does effectively render land infertile—as evidenced by the ancient primitive action of sowing an enemy’s land with salt.”5 The reading of salt as fertilizer then would depend on a distinction in the quantity of the salt sprinkled on the ground: too much would bring death, not life! With respect to sprinkling salt, neither a soldiers’ martial act nor a farmers’ applying a form of ‘miracle-grow’ to the soil is in view in Matt 5:13 or Luke 14:34–35.
2. Salt as Preservation?
Based on the salt as seasoning approach, there is a fairly strong tradition of taking “salt” in Matthew 5:13 as a preservative agent. Before modern refrigeration, salt was one of the primary means by which meat was kept in edible condition. Stemming from this, there is a reading which proposes the church serves in a sustaining and upholding function, so that because of believers’ “faithful presence,” the world organized around unbelief does not become as rotten as it otherwise would. Augustine comments on Matthew 5:13: “If ye, by means of whom the nations in a measure are to be preserved [from corruption], through the dread of temporal persecutions shall lose the kingdom of heaven, where will be the men through whom error may be removed from you, since God has chosen you, in order that through you He might remove the error of others?”6 Origen likewise observes,
Salt is useful for many purposes in human life! What need is there to speak about this?
Now is the proper time to say why Jesus’ disciples are compared with salt. Salt preserves meats from decaying into stench and worms. It makes them edible for a longer period. They would not last through time and be found useful without salt. So also Christ’s disciples, standing in the way of the stench that comes from the sins of idolatry and fornication, support and hold together this whole earthly realm.”7
John Stott in his commentary on the Sermon on the Mount also reflects this perspective:
God has established certain institutions in his common grace, which curb man’s selfish tendencies and prevent society from slipping into anarchy. Chief among these are the state (with its ability to frame and enforce laws) and the home (including marriage and family life). These exert a wholesome influence in the community. Nevertheless, God intends the most powerful of all restraints to be his own redeemed, regenerate, and righteous people.8
R.V.G. Tasker comments,“The disciples are to be a moral disinfectant in a world where moral standards are low, constantly changing, or non-existent.”9 In this paradigm, there is a “staying power” that the church exercises, in that God through his people stays certain deleterious effects of evil and the degradation that would otherwise occur without the presence of the salt.
To take this a step further, others maintain the salt image “means simply to make an impact on the world.”10 The statement underscores that “disciples are to make the world a better place.”11 Some in the Neo-Calvinist tradition in particular suggest that salt has not only preservative qualities but even transformative potency. Scott Hoezee exclaims, “The result of all your piety must be pouring yourself out onto this earth so as to bring out life’s complex and beautiful flavors.”12 From this vantage point, salt (supernaturally) activates the latent goodness in human culture, and awakens the dormant potentialities within it: Christians then would legitimately expect to “bring out the best” in others.
There are some considerable objections that can be raised against taking salt in Matthew 5:13 to refer to societal preservation (or transformation). For one, in the Noahic covenant, God had already promised to uphold the basic order of society. The Lord by providence through this covenant keeps steady the pillars of the earth and its inhabitants (cf. Ps 75:3). David VanDrunen writes,
In Genesis 9 God entered into a covenant with both the natural order and the human race, promising to uphold and preserve his creation, albeit in fallen form. God promised to uphold the regularity of the cosmic order and reaffirmed the nature of humanity as his own image, and thereby continues to reveal his law by nature. Genesis 9 indicates that this natural law provides at least a basic, minimal ethic designed for the preservation of the social order.13
To view the church as one of the pillars of “common grace” both undersells its holy status and calling and also fails to appreciate the basic terms of restraint and stability previously established by God in the covenant with all creation instituted after the Noahic flood.
Secondly and more pointedly, for the metaphor of the “salt as seasoning for culture” to work, the second half of the metaphor, “the earth” must be understood as the ‘meat’ (or fish or other victuals) that prior to seasoning is in essentially edible condition in the first place. After all, for all its potency, salt cannot make flavorful or consumable what are already spoiled goods. This dilemma is exemplified in Martyn Lloyd-Jones’s comments on Matthew 5:13:
“Ye are the salt of the earth.” What does that imply? It clearly implies rottenness in the earth; it implies a tendency to pollution and to becoming foul and offensive. That is what the Bible has to say about this world. It is fallen, sinful and bad. Its tendency is to evil and to wars. It is like meat which has a tendency to putrefy and to become polluted. It is like something which can only be kept wholesome by means of a preservative or antiseptic.14
The distinction between being rotten and tending to rottenness would seem critical in light of how Lloyd-Jones understands the purpose of the salt-image:
The principal function of salt is to preserve and to act as an antiseptic. Take, for instance, a piece of meat. There are certain germs on its surface, perhaps in its very substance, which have been derived from the animal, or from the atmosphere, and there is the danger of its becoming putrid. The business of the salt which is rubbed into that meat is to preserve it against those agencies that are tending to its putrefaction.15
But how can it be maintained on the one hand that the earth (i.e., the fallen world) is spoiled in sin, while at the same time advancing the notion that salt prevents spoilage? If the point of preservation is to keep the edible goods fit for consumption, then even a minimal amount of decomposition and decay would be unacceptable. If the salt metaphor of Matthew 5:13 is indeed intended as a preservative, the salt could not be applied to already rancid meat, because then like the flavorless salt of v. 13b, the meat too would be worthless and have to be thrown out.
3. Leavening the Earth?
Ulrich Luz writes, “salt is not for itself; it is seasoning for food. In the same way the disciples are there not for themselves but for the earth.”16 Grant Osborne also takes τὸ ἅλας τῆς γῆς as an objective genitive: “the earth is ‘salted’ by the believer.”17 So too Craig Blomberg: “in light of the countercultural perspectives enunciated in the Beatitudes, it would be easy to assume the Jesus was calling his followers to a separatistic or quasi-monastic life-style. Here Jesus proclaims precisely the opposite. Christians must permeate society as agents of redemption.”18
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