Theology Central

When people think about the inspiration of the Bible, they tend to imagine it as a process. They think of inspiration as a way of stating how the Bible got to be what it is. Trying to answer the how question is one of the reasons that we are surrounded by so-called “theories of inspiration.” Some theories suggest that God gave ideas to the writers, which they then expressed in their own words. Others argue that God simply dictated every word of the finished text. Still others speak in terms of inspired writers rather than an inspired text. Some talk about documents other than the Bible being inspired to some degree, and some see the Bible as inspired to varying degrees. To clear up these misunderstandings, our doctrine of inspiration should rest firmly upon the Bible’s own use of that term.

The only biblical passage that speaks directly about the inspiration of the Bible is 2 Timothy 3:16. Unfortunately, the older translations tend to obscure the meaning of the text. Both the King James and the New King James versions read, “All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable….” In this translation the first verb is given, which does not even appear in the Greek text. Alternatively, the American Standard Version of 1901 reads, “Every scripture inspired of God is also profitable….” This translation seems to imply that some scriptures are inspired while others are not, and that only the inspired scriptures are profitable.

This verse is critical for defining a biblical doctrine of inspiration. Given the variety of ways in which it has been interpreted, how should we understand it? The answer is that we will grasp its meaning correctly only if we pay close attention to its grammar and structure.

The first thing to notice about the verse is that the Greek text does not contain a verb. That is not an uncommon occurrence: Greek sentences have ways of implying verbs rather than stating them outright. In this case, the implied verb must be some form of the verb to be. The verse is stating that every (or all) scripture is something.

But what is it? The verse contains two adjectives: inspired and profitable. This is the point at which a problem arises. Are both adjectives to be understood as predicates of every scripture? Or is inspired a qualifier that narrows the scope of the scripture that is in view? In other words, should the verse be translated, “Every scripture is inspired and profitable,” or should it be translated, “Every inspired scripture is profitable”? The first usage is called the predicate usage; the second is the attributive usage.

As shown above, Bible translations have gone in both directions. How, then, is an interpreter to make a choice? The hard work has already been done. During the late 1970s Daniel Wallace wrote his Th.M. thesis for Dallas Seminary on this problem. He later published the results as, “The Relation of Adjective to Noun in Anarthrous Constructions in the New Testament,” Novum Testamentum 26 (1984) 128-167. Wallace decisively showed that in constructions like that of 2 Timothy 3:16, both adjectives must be taken as predicate adjectives.

In other words, the verse is predicating two properties that apply equally to every (or all) scripture. The first is that all scripture is inspired. The second is that all scripture is profitable. For the moment we can set aside the discussion of what the verse means when it says that all scripture is profitable. What we want to do is to explore the meaning of all scripture being inspired.

The Greek term translated inspired is a compound word that Paul appears to have coined just for this occasion. The word is theopneustos, which means something like God-breathed (see the New International Version for this exact translation). What the verse affirms is that every scripture possesses the quality or property of being God-breathed.

The meaning of the text is not that God has breathed something into scripture, as if scripture might stand on its own as a human product apart from being God-breathed. Instead, the verse is teaching that every scripture is itself breathed by God. A more interpretive but very legitimate way of translating this verse is to say that all scripture is “breathed out by God.” Indeed, the International Standard Version uses just that language.

Inspiration, then, does not answer a how question but a what question. It does not tell us how scripture came into existence but what scripture is. It is God-breathed. It is the product of God, something that proceeds from God Himself.

To state it differently, the subject of inspiration is the scripture itself. Scripture is inspired—all of it. The writers are not inspired. The ideas are not inspired. The scriptures (i.e., the writings) themselves are inspired.

Since inspiration applies to the writings, not the writers, then it must involve the words. One cannot have writings without words, sentences, grammar, and syntax. If the writings are inspired, then all these matters are included within the orbit of inspiration. This teaching is sometimes called verbal inspiration.

Furthermore, since inspiration applies to all scripture (the entire Bible), then there are no degrees of inspiration. Either a writing is inspired or it is not. Either it is breathed by God or it is not. Consequently, the whole of scripture—the entire Bible—is inspired. This teaching is sometimes called plenary inspiration.

Finally, if all scripture is God-breathed, i.e., it is the product of God and proceeds from God Himself, and if God is incapable of error, then scripture must include no error in anything that it affirms. Of course, the Bible might inerrantly record the errors that others have committed (and it does), but the Bible does not affirm those errors. A necessary consequent of verbal, plenary inspiration is the inerrancy of scripture.

2 Timothy 3:16 provides a very strong statement of the divine origin of scripture. This statement does not contradict in any way the genuinely human authorship of the biblical text. Exploring that issue, however, would take us beyond the scope of our present discussion. Perhaps we can return to it at some future point.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

‘Twas on That Dark, That Doleful Night

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

‘Twas on that dark, that doleful night
When pow’rs of earth and hell arose
Against the Son, our God’s delight,
And friends betrayed him to his foes.

Before the mournful scene began,
He took the bread and blessed and broke.
What love through all his actions ran!
What wondrous words of grace he spoke!

“This is my body, slain for sin;
Receive and eat the living food.”
Then took the cup and blessed the wine:
“‘Tis the new cov’nant in my blood.”

“Do this,” he said, “till time shall end,
In mem’ry of your dying friend;
Meet at my table and record
The love of your departed Lord.”

Jesus, your feast we celebrate;
We show your death; we sing your name
Till you return and we shall eat
The marriage supper of the Lamb.

We all oppose something, but there’s opposition and then there’s opposition. I can think of at least three levels at which our opposition can be pursued. Which level we employ is not simply a tactical or even strategic decision. It is a moral choice.

Though the phrase seems antiquated now, we used to talk about the “loyal opposition.” The loyal opposition consisted of members of the party that was out of power. They opposed on principle certain goals, policies, and initiatives of the other party. Nevertheless, the loyal opposition recognized a large sphere of common interest. This common interest was grounded in both their common humanity and community. Within the sphere of this common interest they committed themselves to work constructively with, rather than against, their opponents. Loyal opponents could cooperate to solve problems and make advances, and both parties could legitimately claim credit for any progress. It was possible to oppose some principles and policies while still to have common interests.

Then someone figured out that more votes could be gained by pointing out an opponent’s failures than by pointing to one’s own successes. This tactic was particularly useful for candidates or members of parties that had few actual successes. From then on, opposition became less about principles and more about making one’s opponent look as bad as possible. This new level of opposition shifted the focus from opposing principles and programs to demonizing one’s opponents.

For the demonizer, all aspects of an opponent’s life are fair game: family activities, personal idiosyncrasies, social standing, even tangential acquaintances and loose affiliations. Failures of policy are particularly celebrated as evidence of an opponent’s incompetence or even ill will. Demonizers try to  portray their opponents as flatly evil, and failing that, they will depict them in the most awkward and ridiculous ways possible. In the absence of a unique positive and constructive agenda of their own, demonizers hope for their opponents’ political and even personal failures.

One more level remains. Once people discover that they can flourish by demonizing their opponents, they begin to rejoice in those failures and even to anticipate them. Once they begin to hope for failures, they find that they can covertly sabotage their opponents’ initiatives. At this point they have become not simply demonizers, but destroyers.

Destroyers promote the failure of their opponents by as many means as possible. They quietly subvert even good and useful policies so that their opponents can be presented as incompetent or malicious. They consistently deride their opponents’ initiatives as pointless, wrongheaded, or even immoral, not because they necessarily are, but simply because they are advocated by their opponents.

The problem with destruction is that nobody can consistently subvert all of an opponent’s policies, programs, and initiatives without subverting the common good. By attacking the persons and subverting the programs of their opponents, destroyers attack order itself. Destroyers no longer operate as the loyal opposition—they are almost by definition disloyal. Their chosen avenue to power is to make everything worse for everyone, hoping that when things get bad enough their opponents will be blamed and repudiated.

In a two-party system, each party finds itself in power only some of the time. Consequently, each party must find ways to oppose the other. Ideally, the goal is to oppose the other party’s most obnoxious policies while remaining loyal to common principles and interests. In the past, demonizers and especially destroyers inhabited the extreme fringes of the parties. In recent years, however, and especially in America, the balance has shifted. Both parties have found that demonization and even destruction can disable their opponents, and so demonization and destruction have grown within the mainstream.

This situation presents an opportunity for Christians to display their commitments. When lies, half-truths, and innuendo become the medium of political exchange, Christians ought to model truth-telling. When cynicism dominates the political landscape, Christians need to model sincerity. When suspicion and vituperation are the ordinary mode of discourse, Christians must model charity; at minimum they must grant their opponents the benefit of the doubt. Most importantly, when subversion and sabotage have become powerful political weapons, Christians must model a commitment to the common good.

Joseph must have objected to elements within Pharaoh’s court, but he was able to work for the common good. Daniel certainly disapproved of some Babylonian and Medo-Persian policies and initiatives, but he was able to work for the common good. When the nation of Judah was sent into captivity, Jeremiah wrote to tell the exiles to build houses, plant gardens, marry, bear children, and most importantly, to seek the peace of the city where they were captive, for their peace was bound up with its peace (Jer 29:4–7). In other words, Jeremiah wanted them to stress the common good.

Christians in this world are no less aliens and exiles than the children of Israel were in Babylon. Like them, we live under regimes committed to some policies of which we must disapprove. Yet like them, we must also recognize that the order offered by those regimes is necessary for us to live quiet and peaceable lives (1 Tim 2:1–2). Consequently, we must pray for the success of the order in which we find ourselves. To the extent that we are able, we must work for its success—not in every policy, but with respect to the general welfare, the common good. It is permissible and even necessary for us to be loyal opponents, but we must never permit ourselves to become demonizers or destroyers.

To cite one example, my congressional representative is at the opposite end of the political spectrum from mine. She advocates many policies and initiatives that I cannot support and must oppose. I did not vote for her, nor shall I. Nevertheless, she is entitled to a level of human dignity in the way that I speak about her (1 Pet 2:17). Furthermore, she merits the respect that is due to her office (Rom 13:7). Most importantly, where her policies genuinely promote the common good (as they sometimes do), I have a duty to lend my support and to help her succeed.

Of course we can confront wrongdoing where it really occurs. Of course we ought to oppose policies that are genuinely wrong and harmful. By itself, however, opposition solves nothing and it builds nothing. Nothing permanent can be erected upon destruction, including our reputation. Let us be known, not for what we tear down, but for the good that we do (Matt 5:16).

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

And Shall We Still Be Slaves

Philip Doddridge (1702–1751)

And shall we still be slaves,
And in our fetters lie,
When summon’d by a voice divine
T’assert our liberty?

Did Christ the Savior bleed,
Our freedom to obtain?
And shall we trample on his blood,
And glory in our chain?

Shall we go on to sin,
Because thy grace abounds;
Or crucify the Lord again,
And open all his wounds?

Forbid it, mighty God!
Nor let it e’er be said,
That those, for whom thy Son has died,
In vice are lost and dead.

The man that durst despise
The law that Moses brought,
Behold! how terriby he dies
For his presumptuous fault.

But sorer vengeance falls
On that rebellious race,
Who hate to hear when Jesus calls,
And dare resist his grace.

Proverbs 22:7 says that the rich rule over the poor and the borrower is slave to the lender. This counsel runs contrary to North American sensibilities. The most recent figures (for 2020) indicate that household debt in the United States totals $14.35 trillion, for a mean household indebtedness of $145,000. Of that number, mortgages account for the majority—about $9.86 trillion. Even with mortgages subtracted, however, household debt runs to nearly $4.5 trillion. Of that amount, Americans owe $1.36 trillion on car loans and another $807 billion in credit card debt.

These numbers are genuinely staggering. They are for household debt, not commercial debt. The average household in the United States earns only $61,000 plus change—less than half of its indebtedness. No wonder many Americans feel like they are impoverished—their income is going to service their debt.

Some people want to argue that Proverbs 22:7 no longer applies. These people point out that in previous generations debtors could literally be put in prison. They could lose their personal freedom, or even the freedom of their children, who could be taken as slaves to pay the debt. Interest rates were exorbitant. Now, these objectors argue, laws limit rates of interest, and they protect both the freedom and basic property of the borrower. This line of reasoning leads to the conclusion that in the modern financial system, borrowers are no longer slaves to lenders.

We can certainly celebrate the protections that modern laws provide. Nevertheless, those protections do not void the warning of Proverbs 22:7. If a household earns $61,000 and owes $145,000, then it cannot possibly pay off its debt for more than two years. During those years, everything the debtor earns goes to the lender. In a very literal sense, the borrower is not working for himself but for the lender. In that sense, he is a slave.

Very few people can actually put more than two years’ income into paying off their debts. They must also buy food, clothing, gasoline, and other necessities. They will also pay their taxes, purchase various insurance policies, and usually spend some amount on simple enjoyments. Consequently, they are going to have to stretch out their payments over many more years—perhaps even over decades. While they are making those payments, however, interest on their loans will continue to accrue, stretching out the arc of their repayment even further. For that entire time, these borrowers will be working to pay off the lender. In that sense, they will be slaves.

The only time that this kind of borrowing makes good sense is when it meets two conditions. The first condition is that the borrowed money is going to purchase something that is genuinely necessary and not merely something desirable. The second condition is that the item being purchased is one that will either appreciate in value or whose value can be improved. In that case, the increased value of the item will at least help to offset the cost of the loan. Apart from these two conditions, debt should be avoided.

Of all forms of indebtedness, credit card debt is one of the worst. This does not mean that credit cards are necessarily bad. They are convenient when they are used as a cash substitute, which means that the cardholder pays off the balance at the end of each month. Any balance carried on a credit card, however, will be charged a relatively high rate of interest. The combination of large balances and minimum monthly payments is a surefire way to enslave oneself financially for years to come.

What is the alternative to borrowing? It can be summed up in one word: contentment. God wants His people to be contented with His provision. Creature comforts can be legitimate purchases, but they are not necessities. They should never be acquired on credit. Instead, if we wish for something beyond what we genuinely need, then we should save up for it ahead of time. Then we should purchase only what we can pay for. Otherwise, it is a virtue to be content with what the Lord provides.

Another virtue that will help us to avoid debt is thrift. We should shop frugally even for necessities. Often, new shoes and clothes can be purchased in thrift stores at a remarkable discount. Furniture and tools can come from yard sales or consignment shops. Americans give plenty of stuff away or sell it for pennies on the dollar, and much of it is barely used (or not used at all). If we are too proud to avail ourselves of such venues, then we are indeed too proud.

Freedom from debt truly does liberate God’s people. It sets them free to give to the needy and to the Lord’s work. It sets them free to make provision for emergencies and for the time when they will no longer be able to earn a living. It sets them free to follow God’s leading into a new sphere of life and ministry. The borrower is still a slave to the lender, and it is a slavery that God’s people should avoid whenever possible.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Come All Ye Mourning Pilgrims Dear

John Adam Granade (1763?-1807)

Come all ye mourning pilgrims dear,
Who’re bound for Canaan’s land;
Take courage and fight valiantly,
Stand fast with sword in hand!
Our Captain’s gone before us,
Our Father’s only Son;
Then pilgrims dear, pray do not fear,
But let us follow on.

We have a howling wilderness
To Canaan’s happy shore,
A land of dearth, and pits, and snares,
While chilling winds do roar.
But Jesus will be with us
And guard us by the way;
Though enemies examine us,
He’ll teach us what to say.

The pleasant fields of Paradise
Are glorious to behold;
The valleys clad in living green,
The city paved with gold,
The tree of life with heavenly fruit
Behold how rich they stand!
Blow, gentle gales, and bear my soul
Away to Canaan’s land!

Already to my raptured sight
The blissful fields arise,
And plenty spreads her smiling stores
Inviting to my eyes.
O sweet abode of endless rest,
I soon shall travel there;
Nor earth, nor all her empty joys
Shall long detain me here.

Last week I wrote about foods that I’ve sampled as I’ve traveled around the world. As it happens, I missed a favorite: Wienerschnitzel, which I have enjoyed right in Wien (Vienna). Did you know that it’s sold as a fast food there?

International travel is no longer part of my agenda, but I haven’t given up on unique dining experiences. The United States is a big country in which each region seems to offer delicacies of its own. I’ll list a few of my favorites below.

I was reared in eastern Michigan where I grew up eating Kogel’s pickled ring bologna. When my uncle would take me fishing, a ring of pickled bologna and a tube of saltines made for lunch. Only subsequently did I realize that some people don’t care for pickled meat. I think it’s great.

Another Michigan favorite is Vernor’s ginger ale. Vernor’s is one of the few golden ginger ales still in production—a completely different drink from the pale, tasteless stuff sold by—well, let’s not mention names—“North of the border desiccated.” I’m happy to be able to find Vernor’s in Minnesota now.

Another east Michigan favorite is the coney dog. For all its problems, the city of Flint still has the greatest variety of the best coney dogs on earth. Made with Kogel’s Vienna wieners and a dry chili sauce, coney dogs have been offered in diners like Angelo’s and Starlight for decades. Each diner has its own secret sauce. I’m OK with any of them, and I’ll eat mine with onions and mustard for a few moments of bliss.

One more eastern Michigan delicacy is blue moon ice cream. I don’t know what they put in it to get that flavor. It almost seems citrusy, but not quite. I first tried blue moon ice cream in Pinconning as a pre-teen. It has been one of my favorites ever since.

Driving into the Upper Peninsula is like traveling to an entirely different state with its own culture and cuisine. The most characteristic food in the UP is the pasty, a kind of meat pie folded into a turnover and baked. Traditional recipes call for beef or pork with rutabagas in the filling, but many pasty shops have experimented with various combinations. Now you can find chicken pasties, breakfast pasties with egg and bacon, and even pizza pasties that are virtually indistinguishable from calzones.

When I was thirteen my family moved to Iowa, where I first encountered the pork tenderloin sandwich. Back then, these savory treats were only available in a few Midwestern states. This sandwich begins with a tenderloin cutlet, pounded flat, breaded, fried, and served on a bun. It makes a perfect meal on a summer evening.

Later I pastored on the edge of the Dutch community that centers on Pella, Iowa. That’s where I discovered Dutch bakeries. The Dutch are some of the best bakers in the world, and my favorite confection was “Dutch letters.” These are crispy pastries, filled with almond paste and twisted into alphabetic shapes before baking. They make a great dessert after a Maid-Rite, a loose-meat sandwich that is another Iowa specialty.

I never tried Mexican food until I was a senior in high school. Mexican cuisine was hard to get in Iowa. When I moved to Denver for seminary, however, I experienced my first good Mexican restaurant. Denver had a chain of restaurants—the Holly Inn, or La Fonda de Acebo—that offered something they called a “tacorito.” It was essentially a smothered burrito. I wish I could get one now. I’ve had a love affair with Mexican cooking ever since.

Texas offers a different variety of Mexican food: Tex-Mex. I’d be hard pressed to say which I enjoyed more; the truth is that I love them both. When we lived in Dallas we could take our children to Panchos buffet where they could eat free and get all the sopapillas that they wanted. It was great fun.

Texas was also where I tried my first real barbecue. Barbecue certainly isn’t unique to Texas, but different regions celebrate different meats and sauces. In Texas, the church ladies provide pans of barbecued brisket for dinner-on-the-grounds. Barbecue was also available from fast-food joints and from fine dining establishments. There’s just something about the collision of smoked meats and well-seasoned sauce that is amazing, especially if it is served with blackberry pie for dessert.

Maybe the most uniquely Texan food, however, is chicken-fried steak. This dish is available elsewhere, but no place else does it like Texas. You can order it at any hole-in-the-wall lunch counter in any backwater town, and you’ll get a crispy fritter of meat that’s bigger than your plate and covered in cream gravy. I’ve never had anything quite like it anywhere else.

In east Texas, southern Arkansas, and Louisiana a different cuisine takes over. You can find deep-fried catfish served with a side-dish of gumbo over rice, and perhaps a cinnamon-caramel bun for dessert. If you’d prefer you can try a jambalaya or a crawfish etouffee.

You can also find grits in Texas, but the further east you go the better they get. Grits are eaten for breakfast and they look a bit like cream of wheat. The first rule for grits, however, is that you must never, ever eat them with milk and sugar. Butter is acceptable. Cheese is good. The best grits are served with gravy. I cannot understand why this food has never become popular in the North.

Let me mention just one more: the Wisconsin fish boil, which you can find up and down the eastern side of that state. The best place I know serves cod filets, boiled outdoors in a cauldron over an open fire. New potatoes are boiled in the same cauldron and served alongside the fish. If you don’t think that boiled fish and potatoes could be appetizing, think again.

I’m running out of space, and there are still so many foods to talk about. Wild rice soup in Minnesota. Whole-belly clams in New England. Seven-year-aged cheddar in Wisconsin (or, at the opposite end of the aging spectrum, fresh cheese curds). Cheese steak sandwiches in Philadelphia. Cincinnati chili, which is served over spaghetti, and I’ll take mine four-way.

The United States offers a welter of unique and sometimes overlapping cuisines. Some are drawn from European roots, some from Asian, many from other places. Often these foods get modified in their transition to the mainstream, but that’s alright. The variety of delicacies that one encounters from region to region is a source of delight. Again, these are good gifts from a heavenly Father who wanted us to have more than just locusts to satisfy our hunger (remember, locusts were a clean food in the Old Testament). One of my joys in life is sampling the local delicacies as I travel around the country.

So that’s all I have to say. Except—I didn’t mention poutine. Well, maybe some other time.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Let Us, With a Gladsome Mind

John Milton (1608–1674)

Let us, with a gladsome mind,
praise the LORD, for He is kind:
for His mercies shall endure,
ever faithful, ever sure.

Let us blaze His Name abroad,
for of gods He is the God:
for His mercies shall endure,
ever faithful, ever sure.

He with all-commanding might
filled the new-made world with light:
for His mercies shall endure,
ever faithful, ever sure.

All things living He doth feed;
His full hand supplies their need:
for His mercies shall endure,
ever faithful, ever sure.

He His chosen race did bless
in the wasteful wilderness:
for His mercies shall endure,
ever faithful, ever sure.

He hath with a pious eye
looks upon our misery:
for His mercies shall endure,
ever faithful, ever sure.

Let us therefore warble forth
His high majesty and worth:
for His mercies shall endure,
ever faithful, ever sure.

During the years that I was president of Central Baptist Theological Seminary I did a good bit of traveling. While traveling I also did a good bit of eating. I’m not exactly what you’d call a gourmet—I can enjoy a good hamburger as well as I can enjoy a steak. Nevertheless, one thing I’ve found interesting is the variety of unique foods in each region I’ve visited. Most of us eat three meals every day, and we can hardly remember any of them. Over the years, however, a few meals and a few foods stand out as worthy of recollection.

Our seminary used to have a campus in Romania—specifically, in Transylvania. To get there, our faculty would fly into Budapest, then drive several hours to the border. Usually we would enjoy at least one meal in Hungary. I learned to look forward to goulash on those stops.

I grew up with something called goulash that was made from macaroni and tomato juice. Hungarian goulash is nothing like that. It is a soup. Every little bistro has its own version. It may or may not have tomato in it, but it is always meaty and always spiced with paprika and garlic. Often it is served with noodles called csipetke. And it is wonderful.

Romania itself features several gastronomic treasures. One is the Romanian national sausage, known variously as mititei or mic. This is a darkly-seasoned meat, and I’ve never found anything quite like it in any other culture. It is often grilled in the Romanian way, over an open fire in a large, concave steel disc. The mici are ringed around the outside of the disc. Often chicken pieces or some other meat forms the next ring, and potato wedges are heaped in the middle. As the mititei fries, oil from them flavors the chicken and the potatoes. The result is almost transcendently good.

Of course, the Romanian national dish is sarmale, which consists of seasoned meat and rice cooked in cabbage leaves. Festive occasions may call for whole cauldrons of sarmale. Depending on the season, the cabbage can be either fresh or pickled. It’s good either way. Of course, this dish is not uniquely Romanian—most Eastern European cultures feature some variety of it.

While we’re talking about Eastern Europe, one of the most memorable meals I’ve ever eaten was in Novi Sad, Serbia. I had wanted to meet the president of the Baptist Union of Serbia, who was supposed to be strongly evangelical. He turned out to be a graduate of Moody, and he was genuinely happy to see us. At lunch time he suggested a small local restaurant (in Eastern Europe all restaurants are local and most of them are small). Specifically, he recommended that we try the mixed grill. I have no idea exactly what I ate that day. I only know that it was the most marvelous assortment of sausages, potatoes, and pickled cabbage that I’ve ever sampled. This lunch was an unexpected delight during a difficult journey.

Of the various Asian countries I’ve visited, the food that stands out most in my recollection is actually a drink: tea. Of course we have tea in America, but the tea I encountered in India—masala chai—was unlike anything I’d ever had from Lipton. I believe that the tea leaves were steeped in (water buffalo?) milk, then spiced with fresh local seasonings. When served with a traditional dal (lentil soup) over rice, it made a good, basic meal.

On the subject of Indian cuisine, some of the most entertaining Indian food I’ve ever eaten was actually a crossover with Mexican, eaten at a hole-in-the-wall place in Toronto, Canada. Toronto is quite cosmopolitan, so it’s not surprising to find cultures borrowing from each other there. Thus I was introduced to the “currito,” which consisted of Indian butter chicken and rice wrapped in a genuine south-of-the-border tortilla. I thought the idea was laughable until I bit into one—and oh, my! I only wish that I could find something like that in Minneapolis.

Of the national cuisines I’ve sampled, Brazilian has to be the most varied and entertaining. If anything, Brazil is even more of a cultural melting pot than the United States. You can find good Arab food there. You can find some of the best pizza in the world. But of course, Brazil is best known for its churrasco.

What is churrasco? Broadly speaking, churrasco consists of a variety of meats, mostly beef, seasoned with granular salt and roasted over an open fire. In Brazil, these meats are served in a buffet restaurant known as a churrascaria. Waiters bring the various cuts to your table and slice off strips for your plate. The typical churrascaria also serves a variety of other foods—feijoada (meat and beans over rice), manioc, quail’s eggs, palm hearts, and so forth. These restaurants have become so popular that some of them are now opening in the United States, where they are extremely expensive. In Brazil, however, the typical churrascaria caters to working people and keeps its prices very reasonable.

Special mention should also be made of a large fish that is caught and eaten along the Amazon. Called the pirarucu, this fish is huge. It produces a mild, white meat that is very flavorful when eaten alongside beans and rice in the open air.

In the category of drinks, special mention should be made of Brazilian guaraná. The guaraná is a tropical fruit that Brazilians make into a soft drink. It tastes a bit like a golden ginger ale, a bit like a crème soda, and not a bit like either. It has to be experienced to be understood. Every Brazilian has his or her favorite brand, and they’re all good. My favorites are Guaraná Antarctica and Guaraná Real.

The hymn writer says, “I sing the goodness of the Lord that filled the earth with food.” God could have created us to absorb nourishment through the soles of our feet from the dirt we walk on. Instead, He has given us an amazing variety of foods, and He has further given us palates that can delight in them. Away with all false and unbiblical world-denying philosophies that would insult the Creator by denigrating His gifts! And away with all parochialism that disdains the unfamiliar. The marvelous variety of nourishing edibles is one manifestation of the Creator’s common grace. I for one am grateful for these good things that the Lord has permitted me to sample.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

O God of Bethel

Philip Doddridge (1702–1751)

O God of Bethel! by whose hand
thy people still are fed;
Who through this weary pilgrimage
hast all our fathers led:

Our vows, our prayers, we now present
before thy throne of grace:
God of our fathers! be the God
of their succeeding race.

Through each perplexing path of life
our wand’ring footsteps guide;
Give us each day our daily bread,
and raiment fit provide.

O spread thy cov’ring wings around,
till all our wand’rings cease,
And at our Father’s loved abode
our souls arrive in peace.

Such blessings from thy gracious hand
our humble pray’rs implore;
And thou shalt be our chosen God,
and portion evermore.

One of my favorite books on the Civil War was written by a chaplain in the Army of Northern Virginia, Baptist preacher J. William Jones. Jones went from being a humble pastor to being named the Baptist missionary to Lieutenant General A. P. Hill’s corps. Jones’s book, Christ in the Camp or Religion in the Confederate Army, was originally published in 1887 and contains many letters and first-hand accounts from chaplains and soldiers in Lee’s infamous army. These correspondences describe in great detail almost unbelievable revivals during which thousands were saved. Jones estimated that during the army’s existence (1861–65), nearly 150,000 Confederate soldiers converted to Christ, representing almost one third of men under arms. This staggering number was not a mere guess taken from foxhole confessions, but reflected careful and copious records of personal testimonies, evangelistic services, and baptisms. The revivals were not only among the enlisted as Jones shared that “a large portion of the higher officers were men of faith and prayer.”

Lest one think this was the result of wartime fervor, at the time of book’s publication, out of the 410 men whom Jones had personally baptized, only three were known to have “gone back to the world.” Twenty years after the war Jones reported that according to many seminary presidents, “nearly nine-tenths of the candidates for the ministry had determined to preach while in the army.” Jones wrote of chaplains and generals alike who, after witnessing so many come to Christ, believed that this army held a unique providential blessing. Surely God would bless such piety and devotion. Convinced of the righteousness of his cause, Jones closed his book with the words, “Christian men of every section and of every creed will unite in thanking God that Christ was in the camps of Lee’s army with such wonderful power to save.”

While there are many historical and cultural complexities surrounding the Civil War, one of the most important questions to ask is, “How could this army bent on perpetuating the evil that is human bondage be so thoroughly infused with penitent Christians, many of whom gave their lives to Christ just before giving their lives, at least in part, for slavery? How could a cause so rooted in sin ever be mistaken as righteous or divinely blessed?”

Whether it was crusaders shouting “Deus vult” after a victory at the Siege of Antioch in 1098 or a man carrying a “Christian flag” onto the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives on January 6, 2021, Christians have often employed Christ in defense of social and political causes. Sadly, I believe that many, like William Jones, have made egregious errors in so hastily engaging Christ to support their cause. While there are many that could be discussed, below are several fallacious assumptions that are all too common.

Victories in a cause equals God’s favor on a cause. Whether on the battlefield or at the ballot box, Christians often think that winning is the result of divine favor. The Army of Northern Virginia, for example, enjoyed extraordinary victories from Seven Pines to Fredericksburg to Chancellorsville, which many assumed were the result of divine favor. In fact, until Lee’s gamble at Gettysburg, his army rarely lost a fight, though facing overwhelming odds. Brilliant battlefield victories coupled with the aforementioned spiritual revivals led many Southern Christians to conclude that God was indeed on the side of the Confederacy. Similarly, in modern times, the church growth movement, built upon the premise that bigger is better, has ensnared many pastors with the faulty logic that more equals more blessed. Numbers, victories, and majorities are in no way an indication of God’s favor, nor do they indicate the righteousness of a cause. Causes are either good or bad based upon their reflection of either eternal truth, as revealed in Scripture, or earthly, bane wisdom.

Christians supporting a cause makes it a Christian cause. The fallacy of honor by association assumes that because a cause or movement (which is the actions done because of the cause) is made up of Christians or carries Christian themes, it is therefore a Christian cause. I once heard an evangelical declare from the pulpit that because some of America’s founders were Christians and often mentioned the divine in founding documents and monuments, America is a Christian nation and has therefore incurred God’s unique blessing. By this reasoning, the Vatican would be the most Christian place on earth. Thousands upon thousands of redeemed rebels fought for the cause of slavery. Just because a cause has Christians associated with it or uses the name of Christ does not make it a Christian cause.

Causes are simple. Causes are not simple; that is to say they rarely entail a singular principle or solitary moral outcome. They are as complex as the cultures, ideas, and times in which they arise. A cry for freedom by one may result in the enslavement of another. Clarity on one side may be confusion for the other. Even if a cause is straightforward and moral, the movements which it spawns may be twisted and immoral.

God works because of a cause. This is perhaps the most egregious assumption. Jones assumed that the blessing of spiritual revival within the army was the result, at least in part, of the Confederate cause. If God uses a cause, He therefore supports the cause. Many heresies have arisen with this line of thinking. Monergism reminds us that in regards to humanity, salvation is always despite. God’s blessings and salvation are granted because of God’s own glory and for His own end. Divine favor within a cause should never be viewed, even tacitly, as divine acceptance of a cause. Often God works despite causes, not because of them. Christ saved me despite myself and my ideas just as He saved my tragically-wrong rebel brethren.

I wholeheartedly agree with Jones on one point, Christ was indeed in Lee’s camps with wonderful power to save. Not however, because of the Confederate cause, but despite it. Christians, be very cautious of causes, even if they contain Christian themes or have Christian leaders. Jesus Christ is our cause and should not be easily employed in so many earthly endeavors.  

This essay is by Brett Williams, Provost and Executive Vice President at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Let Us Sing the King Messiah

John Ryland (1753–1825)

Let us sing the King Messiah,
King of righteousness and peace!
Hail Him, all His happy subjects,
Never let His praises cease:
Ever hail Him,
Never let His praises cease.

How transcendent are Thy glories,
Fairer than the sons of men;
While Thy blessed mediation
Brings us back to God again:
Blest Redeemer,
How we triumph in Thy reign!

Gird Thy sword on, mighty Hero!
Make the Word of truth Thy car;
Prosper in Thy course majestic;
All success attend Thy war!
Gracious Victor,
Let mankind before Thee bow!

Majesty, combined with meekness,
Righteousness and peace unite
To insure Thy blessed conquests.
On, great Prince, assert Thy right!
Ride triumphant,
All around the conquer’d globe.

Blest are all that touch Thy sceptre,
Blest are all that own Thy reign;
Freed from sin, that worst of tyrants,
Rescued from its galling chain:
Saints and angels,
All who know Thee, bless Thy reign.

My father’s first pastorate was in Cambridge, Iowa. Other fundamental Baptist churches were located nearby. Slater had one less than ten miles to the west. Both Ames and Nevada had churches of like faith and order, each about twelve miles away. Ankeny had a regular Baptist church about twenty miles down Interstate 35.

Skip ahead. My first senior pastorate was in Newton, Iowa. Immanuel Baptist had at least three other Bible-preaching Baptist churches within about a twenty-minute drive, the closest of which was less than ten miles away. None was very large. The other churches were all older congregations, yet decades prior Newton had been specifically targeted to be a church plant.

These facts have occurred to me over the past weeks while I have been preaching in a little, rural Minnesota church. It is located near three other fundamental Baptist churches: one is about ten miles to the north, another about ten miles to the south, and still another perhaps eight or nine miles to the west. It is without a pastor and, thanks partly to COVID and partly to job transfers, can no longer afford to call a man full time.

The first time I visited this church I thought, “Is this church really necessary? It’s just a handful of people. They could easily drive to one of the other churches in the area. Wouldn’t they do better just to merge?” But then I remembered Cambridge, Newton, and the sprinkling of little, fundamental Baptist churches across the state of Iowa. I do not believe that these small churches are a waste of time, money, or effort. In fact, I think that far more ministry per capita takes place in them than in big churches.

I remember the Sunday that my father’s Bible college sent him to fill the pulpit at the Bible Presbyterian Church in Cambridge. Since it was close to home he took my mother and all five children. The seven of us accounted for somewhere between a third and a half of the congregation that morning. At the end of the service the church’s two elders approached Dad and asked, “Would you be our pastor?”

When my father recovered from the surprise, he reminded them that he was a Baptist, not a Presbyterian. He told them that he would preach New Testament doctrine, including believer baptism. They responded, “We’re willing to learn.”

He then observed, “I’m a dispensationalist and your church believes in Covenant Theology.” The two elders looked at each other for a moment, then responded, “We don’t even know what that means.” Long story short, my father accepted the pastorate and led them through the process of becoming a Baptist church. Interestingly, the presbytery readily accepted this change. They had not been able to support the church adequately for some time. Their attitude was that they would rather see a thriving Baptist church preaching the gospel than a dying Presbyterian church closing its doors and preaching nothing.

For compensation the church could offer a moldering parsonage and a pittance of a salary. My father had to work multiple jobs so that he could simultaneously feed his family and pastor the church. But the little congregation began to blossom. After many professions of faith, even more baptisms, a building renovation, and a strong pastoral presence in the community, it became a healthy, vibrant church. Dad went on to pastor bigger churches, but I doubt that he ever had a church respond more fruitfully to his ministry.

Well, there might have been one. It came after he had otherwise retired. He was living in northern Wisconsin. A little church an hour or so away in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was without a pastor. Like the church in Cambridge, the church in Wakefield could offer a parsonage but not a living wage. Dad was able to minister without a living wage. He accepted this church’s call and went to work. Again the ministry blossomed with professions of faith, baptisms, some building renovation, and a strong pastoral presence in the community. It has flourished even more under its present pastor.

These little congregations are precious in the sight of the Lord Jesus. They are temples in which the Holy Spirit dwells. They deserve good, sound, careful, caring, thoughtful pastors. To serve them is an honor. The men who pastor them almost never receive much recognition on earth, but someday they will stand to the applause of all heaven.

I know of a small group—almost a cadre—of young men who have earned good seminary degrees. In fact, most of them have earned doctorates. They have deliberately taken pastorates in small churches like these, investing themselves in ministries that will never make them famous. Some of them have had to seek outside employment for the privilege of laboring in these tiny congregations. To my amazement, I have heard others disparage them as men who “do not pastor churches that matter.”

Let me tell you something. These churches matter to God the Father, by whose election they exist. They matter to Jesus Christ, who died to present them to Himself. They matter to the Holy Spirit, who indwells them. Their members are Christ’s lambs who need under-shepherds. Thank God for learned, skilled, trained men who are willing to spend themselves in little ministries. To me they are genuine heroes.

Sometimes churches have good reasons to merge—especially if their separate existence was the result of an unbiblical division. Sometimes churches need to go out of existence, especially if they dwindle as the result of mere idiosyncrasies. Nevertheless, we should not permit a church to die simply because another church is within driving distance. Nor should we conclude that a church does not deserve to survive simply because it is small. Instead, we should pray and work to prepare the kind of men who will devote themselves to serving these congregations. May God raise up more of them.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Christ Hath a Garden Walled Around

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Christ hath a garden walled around, 
A Paradise of fruitful ground, 
Chosen by love and fenced by grace 
From out the world’s wide wilderness.

Like trees of spice his servants stand, 
There planted by his mighty hand; 
By Eden’s gracious streams, that flow 
To feed their beauty where they grow.

Awake, O wind of heav’n and bear 
Their sweetest perfume through the air: 
Stir up, O south, the boughs that bloom, 
Till the beloved Master come:

That he may come, and linger yet 
Among the trees that he hath set; 
That he may evermore be seen 
To walk amid the springing green.

The old dictum says that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I disagree. A friend is someone who values and honors what I value. An enemy is someone who destroys or debases what I value. It is quite possible for an enemy of my enemy to destroy or debase what I value. The enemy of my enemy may still be my enemy.

Modern conservatism was built upon three thinkers. Richard Weaver laid a philosophical foundation in Ideas Have Consequences. Russell Kirk traced the history of conservative thought in The Conservative Mind. Friedrich Hayek pointed out the connection between political and economic freedom in The Road to Serfdom. These were learned men. Each wrote many works, but ordinary readers found them challenging. To flourish, conservatism needed a popularizer.

Enter the young William F. Buckley, who burst onto the scene in 1951 with God and Man at Yale. In 1955 he launched a conservative journal of opinion, National Review. His goal was to establish an articulate, reasonable standard-bearer for a conservative movement. To achieve that goal Buckley had to distance conservatism from two pretenders: radical libertarianism, represented by Ayn Rand, and (usually antisemitic) conspiracism, represented by the John Birch Society. Consequently, National Review regularly denounced both Randian libertarianism and the Birchers.

Buckley saw liberals as opponents, but he saw the Randians and the Birchers as enemies. He understood that allying with these groups would poison conservatism. Instead of trying to rally the hard right, he aimed to persuade moderates on his left. The strategy worked. Buckley’s circle was chiefly responsible for the conservative takeover of the Republican party in 1964 and the eventual election of Ronald Reagan to the presidency.

This early version of conservatism was fully compatible with Christian principles. In fact, certain Christian insights were definitive: belief in a transcendent moral order, recognition of human fallenness and imperfectability, and private property as a fundamental right. Indeed, many of the leading conservatives were committed to some version of “mere Christianity.”

The origins of contemporary conservatism provides a contrast with the situation in which conservatives now stand. Donald Trump gained popularity through the support of the alt-right. After his election I began to follow the postings of alt-right figures. I wanted to understand what their values were and how closely they aligned with both traditional conservatism and biblical Christianity.

At this point two caveats are necessary. First, not every alt-right figure holds every objectionable opinion. The alt-right is not particularly systematic. Second, the alt-right objects to many things that any reasonable person should find objectionable. The press really is biased. Illegal immigration really is a threat. Politicians really are trying to take away your guns. Voter fraud really does take place. There really is an entrenched and powerful bureaucracy that resembles a “deep state.” So, is the enemy of my enemy my friend? Or is the enemy of my enemy also my enemy?

Despite these caveats, certain trends appear to be widespread within the alt-right. Here is a quick listing.

Conspiracy theories. Just over three years ago I started seeing references to “Q,” now often called “Q-anon.” This shadowy figure, who was supposed to be highly placed, began to leak news about a secret cabal of government officials and other powerful individuals who were involved in Satanism, cannibalism, and even worldwide child sex trafficking. Q also began to predict specific events such as arrests and a “storm,” or mass cleanup of corruption, most of which never came to pass.

Visceral reaction. Much of the alt-right is motivated and dominated by visceral reaction, relying less on thoughtful argument and more on screeds and memes. In moments of true emergency, visceral reactions may be useful, but as a way of life they are dangerous. Most people cannot think while they are reacting. Consequently, they are easily manipulated and driven by unscrupulous demagogues. Reactionaries cannot sustain the kind of decades-long momentum necessary to achieve a consensus and build a constructive movement. Reactionary movements are almost always destructive.

Exclusivist nationalism. Patriotism (the love of one’s country) is a good thing. Even nationalism (seeking the interests of one’s country) is not necessarily bad. There is a kind of exclusivist nationalism, however, that is dominated by xenophobia and is callous about the damage that self-seeking interest can do to others. This sort of national exclusivism is incompatible both with Christian charity and with the interconnectedness between the United States and many other nations.

Ethnic separatism. The alt-right is very white. It looks at other ethnicities with condescension, suspicion, and contempt. Much of the alt-right is openly hostile toward people of color. It is hard to say where the alt-right ends and where white supremacy movements begin. The alt-right is also laced with antisemitism and anti-Zionism. Its opposition to the state of Israel and its suspicion of Jewish ethnicity and culture run deep. These features cannot be reconciled with a biblical anthropology or Israelology. Neither can they be reconciled with the emphatic rejection of antisemitism by Buckley and other builders of conservatism.

Neopaganism. Connected with the antisemitism of the alt-right is a silly revival of paganism. In particular, the white supremacist side of the alt-right is seeking to reinstitute cartoon versions of the old Germanic religions, particularly devotion to Odin and Thor. These are sometimes combined inconsistently with Native American or other occult practices. The influence of paganism accounts for the haberdashery of the “buffalo man” Jake Angeli in the chamber of the United States Senate. Angeli considers himself to be a shaman—a pagan priest. This commitment to paganism is obviously incompatible with Christianity; this display of sheer looniness is at odds with any thoughtful conservatism.

Disorder. The first generation of modern conservatives emphasized that order must precede liberty. Disorder corrodes freedom, and anarchy dissolves it entirely. Conservatives have always recognized that “hasty innovation may be a devouring conflagration, rather than a torch of progress” (Kirk, Conservative Mind, 9). For the alt-right, however, freedom comes first, even at the cost of complete social upheaval. One gets the impression that most figures on the alt-right are preparing for civil war. Some do so reluctantly, but others seem eager to precipitate Ragnarok. This willingness to promote disorder runs contrary both to conservatism and to biblical Christianity (Rom 13:1–7; 1 Tim 2:1–4; 1 Pet 2:13–17).

Even if conservatives and the Republican party can separate themselves from the alt-right today, it will take years to repair the damage. The alt-right is poison, and the body that has swallowed it will be sick for a long time. At minimum, Christians of all sorts—including the most genuinely conservative Christians—should repudiate the alt-right and its ideologies.

Granted, the alt-right is concerned about much of what I am concerned about. The alt-right opposes much of what I oppose. But sometimes the enemy of my enemy is still my enemy.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Physician of My Sin-Sick Soul

John Newton (1725–1807)

Physician of my sin-sick soul
To thee I bring my case;
My raging malady control,
And heal me by thy grace.

Pity the anguish I endure,
See how I mourn and pine;
For never can I hope a cure
From any hand but thine.

I would disclose my whole complaint,
But where shall I begin?
No words of mine can fully paint
That worst distemper, sin.

It lies not in a single part,
But thro’ my frame is spread
A burning fever in my heart,
A palsy in my head.

It makes me deaf, and dumb, and blind,
And impotent and lame,
And overclouds and fills my mind,
With folly, fear and shame.

A thousand evil thoughts intrude,
Tumultuous in my breast;
Which indispose me for my food,
And rob me of my rest.

Lord I am sick, regard my cry,
And set my spirit free;
Say, canst thou let a sinner die,
Who longs to live to thee?

Early this week, Jerry Tetreau, longtime president and chancellor of International Baptist College in Chandler, Arizona, entered his eternal rest. I had the joy of serving under and with him at IBC for four years; my wife was there for five, most of which as Dr. Tetreau’s secretary. It is a joy for us to be able to devote this edition of In the Nick of Time to honor his life and ministry.

Although Dr. Tetreau’s family had been posting updates about his health and hospitalization on social media, neither my wife nor I really expected to hear Monday’s news. Not only did Dr. Tetreau’s condition seem to be improving, but it seemed impossible that a man who had led annual hikes down and back out of the Grand Canyon—in his 70s!—would ever slow down, much less be stopped. Dr. Tetreau defied any normal model of aging. I suppose that I expected him to be out-hiking college kids forever.

Everyone on campus called him Dr. T. He shaped us all by his words, but perhaps more so by his deeds. As is true of many of his generation, he was committed to the virtue of thrift and sought to inculcate that virtue into others. He abhorred the thought of ordering anything other than water to drink at restaurants. His shirt pocket often contained a list of the produce on sale at each of the area supermarkets, so that he might catch each store’s sale items every week.

His frugality was not to enrich himself. If you were invited to his home for a meal, he was going to use his full pantry to make sure that you could not possibly leave hungry. Alicia tells me that in his travels for the college, he often paid many of his own expenses. His thrift genuinely was a virtue. It was not pursued for his own profit, but as a tool to enable him to bless others.

In so many ways, Dr. Tetreau was a model of moral virtue. But he would be deeply upset, and rightly so, if that were the main thing that anyone remembered about him. It was impossible to spend any time with Dr. Tetreau without seeing his devotion to his God and the Word of his God.

He admonished us all, students and faculty alike, to meditate on the Word and I do not believe I have known anyone who did so like he did. Kevin DeYoung wrote that Psalm 119 is a love letter to the Bible and asks his readers whether they could, in full conscience, say that they loved the Word the way the psalmist writes. This is a penetrating question.

I believe that Jerry Tetreau could have recited Psalm 119 with undiluted honesty: “How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! …Your testimonies are my heritage forever, for they are the joy of my heart” (vv. 103, 111). You knew that Dr. Tetreau found God’s words sweet, because he kept them in his mouth all the time. He loved to tell you about what he had just read in his devotions. A verse would strike him and he would continue to speak about it for months, turning it over and over in his mind and making it a theme of his conversation, teaching, and preaching.

I have no doubt that Dr. Tetreau loved all the Bible, but his heart was in the wisdom books. It is no wonder, then, that Dr. Tetreau became himself a fountain of wisdom. I had the privilege of traveling with him to an education convention one year. The highlight was not the convention, but the time to converse with Dr. Tetreau. The trip occurred the month before I proposed to Alicia, at a junction of my life in which I was facing several major decisions. To receive counsel at that time from a saint so thoroughly immersed in the wisdom of God is a privilege for which I will continually thank God.

It is difficult for me, even now looking back, to explain how Dr. Tetreau brought his influence to bear on the institutions he served for so long. Dr. Tetreau was not a natural leader, and I intend the word natural to be read in the Pauline sense. A natural leader sways people by force of overwhelming personality or charisma, by imposition of his will or subtle politicking. Dr. Tetreau did none of those things. He shaped International Baptist College for nearly three decades, but as a Spiritual rather than natural leader. His leadership was not domineering. He was never a bully, even in an era that often rewarded such tactics in church leaders.

That inexplicable leadership is a mark of the Spirit. I’m reminded of Paul’s words to the Corinthians: “And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God” (1 Cor 2:1-5).

The Word of God was always in Dr. Tetreau’s mouth. And he lived and led in such a way as to draw our gaze, not to him, but to his God, so that our faith would not rest in the wisdom of men. The author of Hebrews admonishes us, “Let us therefore strive to enter that rest” (Heb 4:11). Dr. Tetreau, a man of countless hikes, has reached the end of his earthly pilgrimage. He has labored faithfully, has entered the joy of his Master, and enjoys that rest.

This essay is by Michael P. Riley, pastor of Calvary Baptist Church of Wakefield, Michigan. Since 2011, he has served Central Seminary as managing editor of In the Nick of Time. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Psalm 119:89–97

The Psalter, 1912

Forever settled in the heavens,
Thy Word, O Lord, shall firmly stand;
Thy faithfulness shall never fail;
The earth abides at thy command.

Thy word and works unmoved remain,
Thine every purpose to fulfill;
All things are thine and thee obey,
And all as servants wait thy will.

I should have perished in my woe
Had not I loved thy law divine;
That law I never can forget;
O save me, Lord, for I am thine.

The wicked would destroy my soul,
But in thy truth is refuge sure;
Exceeding broad is thy command,
And in perfection shall endure.

[This essay was originally published on January 18, 2013.]

Christians often make mistakes in the way that they think about temptation. On the one hand, they sometimes see any temptation as an evil in itself, as if to be tempted were already to commit the sin. On the other hand, they can think that temptation is merely the initial inducement to sin (or to sin again), which terminates with the sinning. In reality, initial temptations are less insidious than some suppose, while the later stages of temptation are far more sinister than many realize. Temptation occurs in a series of stages, each of which involves a growing element of implicatedness in the sin toward which one is being tempted. In the following paragraphs, I will summarize the stages of temptation, explaining how each stage brings one more deeply under the domination of the object of temptation.

The first stage of temptation is inclination. At this stage, an individual encounters the object of temptation and is somehow attracted toward it. Neither the object nor the attraction necessarily involves sin in itself. A person simply experiences a desire that cannot rightly be fulfilled under the circumstances. This most rudimentary form of temptation can even be glimpsed in the first temptation of Jesus: He was hungry, and He was tempted to create bread. The desire for food was not wrong, but it could not be fulfilled legitimately under the circumstances. When temptation is dealt with at this stage, no sin is committed.

If inclination is not resisted and dismissed, however, it leads to consideration. In this stage, an individual becomes preoccupied with the object of temptation. It is held before the mind’s eye as an object of fascination or even of obsession. Rather than fleeing from the temptation, the person is now beginning to embrace it. This is the stage at which temptation begins to involve some element of sin, because our minds do not have to dwell upon the object of temptation. Indeed, rightly handled, temptation can become a signal to shift our thoughts to specific objects that are worthy of our consideration.

Unless it is interrupted, consideration will lead to permission. At some point, an individual decides that the object of temptation is worth embracing. The overt act has not yet occurred—indeed, it may never occur, for the individual may never encounter an occasion to follow through on the decision. Nevertheless, by ceding permission to the temptation, the individual is inwardly agreeing to commit the deed whenever it becomes possible. Often, some less obvious act may become a substitute for the full and obvious sin. As Jesus pointed out, character assassination is murder, lust is adultery, and loophole language is perjury. Once the decision is made, an individual is already implicated in the sin.

Naturally, permission is often followed by participation. This is the overt commission of the sin (or omission of the duty), no longer merely as a matter considered in the heart, but as a willful deed. Even for sins of attitude some transition takes place between consideration and participation. Some point exists at which an individual stops struggling against the forbidden attitude and indulges in it. Very often, participation represents a turning point in one’s relationship to the sin. Once one has indulged in deliberate commission, the will is weakened and repeated instances of the sin become easier. Additional indulgence in the sin is likely to follow.

As indulgence continues, temptation moves to the level of habituation. As John Donne noted, inconstancy begets a constant habit. Each indulgence in the sin weakens the will, leading to further indulgence. Eventually, the sin becomes a regular part of life. As the sinner grows accustomed to the sin, it begins to seem normal. It becomes part of the sinner’s environment. It becomes so transparent that it operates as a lens through which the sinner interprets reality. At this point, the individual is not merely a sinner, but a slave. The sin holds the sinner under bondage and begins to color everything.

The last and worst stage occurs when temptation turns into identification. The sin becomes so much a part of life that it begins to shape the sinner’s identity. Sinners reach a point at which they begin to understand their selfhood in terms of their relationship to the object of temptation. It becomes part of them. They can no longer imagine living without the sin. If they lost it, they would no longer know who they were. The sin does not merely characterize their outer conduct, but even their inner frame of reference. At this point, trying to divest one’s self of the sin feels very much like trying to kill one’s self, for the sin has become part of one’s identity.

One other stage may occur, though it occupies no particular place in the order of temptation. It is the step of legitimation. A person who legitimates a sin no longer sees it as a sin, but has found a way to justify it. This stage does not always occur. Many sinners know and acknowledge that they are sinning, even when they have progressed through the stage of identification. Still, some do attempt to vindicate themselves by finding a way to redefine the sin so that it is no longer sinful (at least in their own thinking).

Every temptation must be dealt with at the earliest possible stage. To wait for later stages is to multiply exponentially the difficulty of resisting the sin. It is also to involve one’s self increasingly with the sin itself. The first stage—inclination—brings with it no necessary guilt, but each of the succeeding stages involves growing participation in the sin. At no level is a sinner beyond the ability of God’s grace to deliver, but to presume upon deliverance at some later stage is to put God to the test in the way that Jesus refused to do. Consequently, every Christian must seek God’s grace early and employ those means that God has ordained for securing sanctification in the face of temptation.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

Father, in Thy Mysterious Presence

Samuel Johnson (1822-1882)

Father, in Thy mysterious presence kneeling,
Fain would our souls feel all Thy kindling love;
For we are weak, and need some deep revealing
Of Trust and Strength and Calmness from above.

Lord, we have wandered forth through doubt and sorrow,
And Thou hast made each step an onward one;
And we will ever trust each unknown morrow,—
Thou wilt sustain us till its work is done.

In the heart’s depths a peace serene and holy
Abides, and when pain seems to have her will,
Or we despair,—O, may that peace rise slowly,
Stronger than agony, and we be still!

Now, Father, now, in Thy dear presence kneeling,
Our spirits yearn to feel Thy kindling love;
Now make us strong, we need Thy deep revealing
Of Trust and Strength and Calmness from above.

At the end of 1990 I left the church that I had pastored for six years and moved my family to Dallas so I could pursue doctoral studies. I had no source of income, no friends in Texas, and no family nearby. After a few weeks I found a job in a factory. Even though we lived quite frugally, my pay did not cover our expenses. As our savings dwindled I looked for every opportunity to pick up overtime or extra shifts, sometimes working sixty hours or more during the week. In moments of financial stress I was forced to sell prized possessions. I worked third shift and went to class in the mornings, so I was tired all the time. We had trouble finding a church with an expository pulpit; after almost a year of looking we settled for one that was weakly biblical. As we approached Thanksgiving Day of 1991 we were still largely on our own; we had no friends or family nearby with whom to share the day.

Our circumstances were difficult, but we had few or no distractions on Thanksgiving day. We did not even have a television. We just had each other. We spent time playing games with our children. We lacked funds for a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, but Mrs. Bauder fried a chicken and it seemed like a feast. The central event of the day was taking time to enumerate what we were thankful for.

Mrs. Bauder and I were still growing in love (we still are), and happy to have each other. Our children were a delight to us. I had recently gained recognition at work, leading to a cash prize that helped to provide the Thanksgiving meal. Our extended families, while distant from us, were a source of encouragement. We had an adequate home to live in. My education was moving ahead; in fact, a significant obstacle had recently been eliminated. We were getting acquainted with our neighbors—Mexican immigrants on one side, African-Americans on the other, and Anglo senior citizens across the street—and found them all to be kind and generous people. We had begun to get used to Texas weather, habits, and speech. We had never missed a meal or failed to pay a bill on time. Our needs were met, and if we had nothing to spare, we also owed nothing to anyone.

Most of all, we knew and felt that everything in our lives, the good and the bad, had come from the hand of a loving, wise, and sovereign God. In many ways the past year had been the most difficult in our lives together. We recognized, however, that God was disposing of us according to His will, and that His dispositions would ultimately prove very good. We had always known this, but now the truth of it was like a keen breeze on a hot day. We had less (at least materially) than ever before, but we were more grateful for the little that we had.

That Thanksgiving became one of the high-water marks in our family’s story. It stands out in memory as the best and most meaningful that we have ever enjoyed. On every other Thanksgiving we have had more, yet neither before nor since have we felt so profoundly grateful as we did that day. I have often asked myself what made that Thanksgiving so remarkable.

One important answer is that our attention was more focused on our blessings. Why? For one thing, we had felt want, and felt it acutely. For us, passing through hardship and necessity highlighted by contrast the sufficiency of the blessings that we had received. Because we had received less, we appreciated the little that we were given more. It was enough! We understood at an experiential level that simply having enough was really a rich blessing from God. He was taking care of us.

Furthermore, that Thanksgiving was remarkably free from distractions. We didn’t plan to go anywhere because we couldn’t afford to. We couldn’t entertain anyone because no family or friends were nearby. Mrs. Bauder didn’t labor over a huge dinner because a simple fried chicken was a treat to us. Since we owned no television we watched no programming, and we did not miss it. We took time to pay attention to each other, to play with our children, and to enjoy the process of taking up and examining the blessings that God had provided. With fewer distractions we had more freedom to focus both on God’s gifts and on Him as the giver.

Gratitude is not a function of how much we have been given. It is a function of how much we pay attention not only to God’s gifts but especially to Him as One who gives graciously, kindly, and wisely. We do not become thankful because we receive, but because we acknowledge having received.

For many, 2020 has been a year of loss. We might easily become preoccupied with what we do not have. Instead, let us recognize that we have been subject to the dispositions of a generous, kind, loving, wise, and almighty God. While we may mourn our losses, we must also recognize the sufficiency of the blessings that we have received. These blessings flow from the hand of our heavenly Father. The sorrows are real enough, but so is the generosity and goodness of the One who, watching over us, neither slumbers nor sleeps. Let us at least take a day to free ourselves of distractions, to acknowledge what we have received, and to give thanks to God.

This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.

O Lord of Heav’n and Earth and Sea

Christopher Wordsworth (1807–1885)

O Lord of heav’n and earth and sea,
to Thee all praise and glory be;
how shall we show our love to Thee,
who givest all?

The golden sunshine, vernal air,
sweet flow’rs and fruits Thy love declare,
when harvests ripen, Thou art there,
who givest all.

For peaceful homes and healthful days,
for all the blessings earth displays,
we owe Thee thankfulness and praise,
who givest all.

Thou didst not spare Thine only Son,
but gav’st Him for a world undone,
and freely with that blessed One,
Thou givest all.

Thou giv’st the Holy Spirit’s dow’r,
Spirit of life and love and pow’r,
and dost His sev’nfold graces show’r
upon us all.

For souls redeemed, for sins forgiv’n,
for means of grace and hopes of heav’n,
Father, what can to Thee be giv’n,
who givest all?