Theology Central

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?

Higher education is becoming more difficult, even among secular schools. Among Christian colleges, universities, and seminaries the challenges are even greater. Ongoing anxiety over COVID-19 multiplies these difficulties, and Central Baptist Theological Seminary has had to face them like every other school.

Surprisingly, God has chosen this moment to expand Central Seminary’s ministry around the world. On the one hand, we still have local students who move to Minnesota to attend seminary. For example, last year John Marshall joined us. John has his undergraduate and master’s degrees in Classics from the Catholic University of America. He wanted to train for the pastorate, so he moved from Washington, D.C. to Minneapolis. This year he was joined by his father Brent who just retired from his position as a lawyer with the Justice Department. Now the entire Marshall family is living in Crystal. Brent’s wife Lyn volunteers in our library.

On the other hand, more and more of our students live far from the seminary. In one of my theology classes I don’t have a single student in Minneapolis, but I am teaching students on three continents. If you were to visit our campus, you would see fewer students, but in fact we have more. It’s just that more of them join us from remote locations.

Several years ago Central Seminary began a transition toward in-person distance education. Distance students from many locations join together with on-campus students from Minnesota. They meet in electronic classrooms where the discussion flows as freely as if everyone were sitting in the same room. Pastors in Zambia and the Pacific Islands connect with others in Brazil and Bolivia. Church leaders in Romania and Ukraine pray and learn with students in New York City, Kansas, and (of course) Minnesota.

Our move to distance education has rescued us from COVID-19. Because we were already committed to on-line learning, we could make a seamless transition when Minnesota’s governor clamped restrictions on the number of people who could meet in person. While other schools struggled to meet new challenges, we hardly noticed a difference. Our enrollment has remained steady and has even increased. The ministry of WCTS radio has also expanded with a new FM translator in Plymouth, Minnesota.

Our donors have also remained faithful, in spite of limited public opportunities to give. When we had to cancel our annual “Friends and Family” banquet, the seminary’s friends still responded generously. We are excited to see the ministry of Central Baptist Theological Seminary moving forward during difficult days. Together, we are reaching the world with the gospel.

One opportunity that we have not lost is the annual “Give to the Max” day. Central Seminary has participated in Give to the Max since it was started over ten years ago. The day was originated by GiveMN, an organization that coordinates giving for Minnesota non-profits. Over the years, some of Central Seminary’s most generous donors have taken a special interest in Give to the Max.

This year a donor has offered a $50,000 matching gift. In other words, this donor will match every dollar given (to either Central Seminary or WCTS radio) up to a total of $50,000. Every dollar that you give will turn into two dollars. Together we can turn $50,000 into $100,000. That’s what it takes to keep training church leaders in Europe, Africa, North and South America, and other places.

You can give today by visiting the seminary’s website at www.centralseminary.edu/give or www.wctsradio.com. You can call the seminary between 8AM and 3PM (Central time) at (763) 417-8250. You can mail a gift to Central Baptist Theological Seminary at 900 Forestview Lane North, Plymouth, Minnesota 55441. All gifts given before November 19 will count toward the $50,000 matching donation.

College and university students often graduate with heavy debt—sometimes into six figures. If seminary students had to pay for the full price of their education, they too would owe more than they could pay. Debt would cripple their usefulness. They would not be free to give themselves to ministry for years. Because of donors like you, however, our students pay only a fraction of the cost of their education. When they graduate, they are free to throw themselves into the work to which God has called them.

Central Baptist Theological Seminary sends out In the Nick of Time free of charge. We don’t sell your name to advertisers. We don’t spam you with ads. Only once each year do we let you know about this unique opportunity to Give to the Max. Would you consider supporting Central Baptist Theological Seminary with your donation—a donation that will be doubled as soon as you give it—a donation that will help to prepare Christian leaders around the world? Would you please Give to the Max? I am going to.

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.

Thou, Whose Almighty Word

John Marriott (1780–1825)

Thou, Whose Almighty word
Chaos and darkness heard,
And took their flight,
Hear us, we humbly pray;
And, where the Gospel day
Sheds not its glorious ray,
Let there be light!

Thou Who didst come to bring
On Thy redeeming wing
Healing and sight,
Health to the sick in mind,
Sight to the inly blind,
O now, to all mankind
Let there be light!

Spirit of truth and love,
Life-giving, holy Dove,
Speed forth Thy flight!
Move on the waters’ face,
Bearing the lamp of grace,
And, in earth’s darkest place,
Let there be light!

Holy and Blessèd Three,
Glorious Trinity,
Wisdom, Love, Might;
Boundless as ocean’s tide,
Rolling in fullest pride
Through the world, far and wide,
Let there be light!

As I write this essay, the 2020 presidential election is still undecided. After two days of counting, some states are still not certain which candidate won—and until those counts are complete, their votes in the electoral college are hanging in the balance. Neither candidate presently has enough to win the presidency.

The state of Minnesota has endured more than seven months of restrictions related to COVID-19. My church canceled its prayer meeting last evening because the virus was confirmed within the congregation. At work I wear a mask whenever I step out of my office. I’m also a chaplain in the Civil Air Patrol, where masks have become mandatory for all meetings and activities.

My daughter and son-in-law live in Toronto. The border has now been closed for months. My wife and I have not been able to visit them face-to-face all year, and that situation doesn’t look like it’s going to change any time soon. I’ve been told that Canada will allow Americans to visit immediate family, but only if they can guarantee a stay of fifteen days or more. That’s out of the question for us.

A beloved friend appears to be spinning out of control in his spiritual life. He is engaging in the very kind of destructive behavior against which he has warned others. I’ve tried to remain his friend because a friend loves at all times. Still, his choices are making our relationship increasingly difficult.

Churches that I care about are suffering. Some of them don’t know how to respond to COVID-related governmental mandates. Others have shrunk to the point that they can no longer support a pastor. Some have become divided and are threatening to split or close. Unlike Paul, I am not charged with the care of the churches, but I still care about these churches. It pains me to see them drifting, divided, or declining.

In none of the above am I unique.

Many others are presently facing these same kinds of pressures. Some are enduring much worse. Some have endured severe personal illness—or have watched their loved ones go through it. Some have suffered bereavements. Some are struggling in their callings. Some have faced betrayals and abandonments. Compared to what these people are enduring, my little afflictions pale to petty annoyances.

Nor are these pressures unique to our age. I’ve just finished reading Augustine’s City of God, written at a time of invasion when Christian women were asking whether it was better to commit suicide than to endure rape. I have never (yet) had to face grinding poverty, a totalitarian government, the depredations of war, or the humiliation of imprisonment. Compared to most people through most of the world’s history, my life has been one of unimaginable peace and prosperity.

Nevertheless, the stresses of the present are real. They are also widely shared. Perhaps you feel them yourself. If so, then the question for us is how we should face these perplexities.

May I suggest that the first answer is prayer? Perhaps this answer is too obvious to have to state, but God expects us to pray. God responds to prayer. Prayer was a regular feature of Jesus’ ministry. It was also prominent in the lives of the apostles, especially Paul. We should be bringing up our concerns in our regular prayer (proseuche). These concerns should also be spilling over into our desperation prayer (deēsis). We should pray for our situations and for ourselves. We should also pray for each other. I’m not too proud to say it: I wish you would pray for me.

The second answer is to revisit our duties. When stresses increase, they tend to distract us from the things that matter most. We need regularly to return to the question, “What are my duties?” If I wish to be a good Christian, a good husband, a good father, a good minister, and a good professor, then I become responsible for an entire list of obligations. I dare not allow myself to be drawn away from these matters by concerns that may be immediate but are really secondary—if I can do anything about them at all. I must make sure that the most important concerns get addressed.

The third answer is that we should take heart. In fact, we should be brimming over with hope. Our hope has sure foundations. It is grounded in the Providence of God, who works all things according to the counsel of His will and who causes all things to work together for good for us. Our hope is also grounded in the fact that God has given us permission to cast all our cares upon Him, for He cares for us. There is no point worrying and wasting emotional energy on matters that are completely beyond my control but that God has well in hand.

The fourth answer is that we need to encourage one another. Discouragement leads to despondency, and despondency to despair. To despair is to say that we are beyond God’s reach—and that is neither right nor true. We need to remind each other that God is still working in our lives. We need to assure each other that none of us stands alone. We need to bear one another’s burdens, and we also need to hold one another to account. Each of us should stop worrying about where we will find encouragement; on the contrary, each of us should commit himself to becoming a font of encouragement to others. Nothing is more encouraging than to be used to encourage someone else.

In sum, when we are faced with hardship, we must show patience. Endurance is the name of the game. James says that a farmer plants a field, but he must then wait for the crop. While he is waiting he may feel as if little useful is happening, but the crop is growing. Our job is to endure, i.e., to keep doing what we need to be doing, unto the coming of the Lord. His return is drawing nearer. It is approaching one day at a time, and we must persevere one day at a time. Whoever is elected president. Whether or not we can hold prayer meeting. Even if we must wear masks. Or miss family. Or watch friends disintegrate and ministries decline. Prayer. Duty. Hope. Courage. Patience. Today. Tomorrow. Until Jesus comes.

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.

Hallelujah! Who Shall Part?

William Dickinson (?–1889)

Hallelujah! Who shall part
Christ’s own church from Christ’s own heart?
Sever from the Savior’s side
Souls for whom the Savior died?
Dash one precious jewel down
From Immanuel’s blood-bought crown?

Hallelujah! Shall the sword
Part us from our glorious Lord?
Trouble dark or dire disgrace
E’er the Spirit’s seal efface?
Famine, nakedness, or hate,
Bridge and Bridegroom separate?

Hallelujah! Life nor death,
Powers above nor powers beneath,
Monarch’s might, nor tyrant’s doom,
Things that are, nor things to come,
Men nor angels, e’er shall part
Christ’s own church from Christ’s own heart.

For me, learning to read was like being initiated into the mysteries of a secret society. The ability to look at marks on a page and to register those marks in my brain as words, sentences, ideas, and stories—well, it seemed magical. It still does.

People who did not enjoy reading perplexed me. Later I learned that what came naturally and enjoyably to me was an opaque labor to others. Still, I naively assumed that those who worked with ideas must be readers. After all, how else could one communicate either a lengthy narrative or a sustained argument?

I gave pastors a high place among those who did the work of the mind. Perhaps this perspective came from watching my father study through Bible college. I still have vivid memories of him sitting at his desk with open books around him.

At any rate, it came as a shock to discover that most pastors read very little. Reasons for this deficiency probably vary from person to person. Some pastors are more gifted with personal skills. Others are more suited to bustle and activity than to careful thought. Nevertheless, the primary calling of every pastor is to do the work of the mind. If nothing else, preaching is a challenging intellectual activity, at least if a pastor intends to say something worth listening to. Not every pastor needs to be a scholar, but even very ordinary pastors need to be readers.

Becoming well read does not usually happen by accident. Those who read only what they feel like reading, and only when they feel like reading it, will gain only minimal and lopsided exposure to the world of ideas. A balanced reading program must be planned.

How much should a pastor read? Some complete only a volume or two of light reading in a year; others read as much as a book every day. To become reasonably well read, a pastor ought to aim to read just about a book every week. Any more and other areas of ministry may suffer (unless he is remarkably gifted). Any less and his mind will begin to suffer.

Of course, books differ in length. Some can be completed in fewer than 100 pages, while others will run well over 1,000. An average book, however, is approximately 250 pages. Consequently, pastors should aim to average about 250 pages per week—50 pages for each weekday. For most pastors reading most books, that task will take no more than an hour each day.

Some reading has to be done over the long haul. Most pastors will not sit down and read straight through a Bible version, a systematic theology, or a technical commentary. These are projects that must be stretched out. Just two chapters of Scripture each day will get a reader through the Bible in about a year and a half. Commentaries can be read a week at a time in connection with sermon preparation—assuming that the pastor is an expository preacher who works through entire books of the Bible. For theology, Ernest Pickering used to recommend that pastors read 50 pages of systematic theology every week. That amounts to only 10 pages every weekday. At that rate a pastor can work through a fairly substantial systematic theology every few months.

To these sustained reading projects, pastors should add books that cover a variety of subjects. Naturally, they have a professional interest in books that deal with biblical issues. Besides commentaries they should be reading works on biblical introduction, history, backgrounds, and hermeneutics. Alongside these, pastors should read theological works that deal with more specialized questions: hamartiology, for example, or dispensationalism and covenant theology. They should also read volumes on topics in pastoral theology such as church administration, homiletics, and counseling.

Closely related to biblical and theological studies are two other disciplines: philosophy and history. Philosophical works, including books on logic, ethics, political theory, and aesthetic criticism, should be part of a pastor’s reading rotation. So should historical (including biographical) works that cover every period.

For the good of his soul, a pastor should regularly read devotional works. These should include both classical works of devotion (Augustine’s Enchiridion, for example, or Edwards’s Religious Affections) as well as more contemporary works. Naturally, even devotional works should be read critically. Only one book is inspired, inerrant, and completely authoritative; all others need to be evaluated.

Two other categories deserve to be included. One is science. Although a pastor’s work is more related to the humanities than it is to the sciences, he ought not to be scientifically illiterate. The other is belles lettres including works of literary fiction, poetry, and drama. These works of imagination are both enjoyable and worthy of study. Furthermore, they can teach a pastor how to appeal more effectively to the moral imaginations of his congregants.

Most people complete a certain amount of junk reading, designed to turn the mind off rather than to stimulate it. A pastor might read murder mysteries, political thrillers, or romances without necessarily doing himself harm, but he should not count these toward his reading goals. Instead, he should discipline himself to read through the above categories, more-or-less in rotation: biblical studies, philosophy, theological works, history, pastoral theology, science, devotion, belles lettres. Then every now and then he should throw in something completely different just to break up the rotation and expand his thinking.

I have tried to follow a rotation like this for the past 40 years, both as a pastor and as a professor (though as a professor I must read more than a book each week). Furthermore, I keep a log of my reading by title, page count, and category. The discipline of logging my reading helps me to stay accountable. It also gives me a quick way to see whether my reading is becoming imbalanced in any direction. Because I teach theology, of course I must read more in that discipline. Still, I don’t want to neglect the others.

Consulting my log, I can see that the past ten books I have read include two belletristic works, one of which is also a work in Eastern religion and the other an exemplification of Medieval Catholicism. My list also includes a short volume on recent American history, a substantial work on biblical theology, a book dealing with the effects of psychedelic drugs, a book of political theory, a volume in theology proper, a short dogmatic theology, a volume of ancient history that overlaps with Old Testament backgrounds, and a work of ancient philosophy. While this list includes no devotional literature, I did spend a good bit of the summer reading devotional works. If there is a deficiency it is in pastoral theology, though at my stage in life that doesn’t seem as useful as it once was.

So if you’re a pastor, try this. Develop a plan that works for you—it doesn’t have to be mine. But for the good of your mind, your soul, and your congregants, read, and read widely.

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.

I Send the Joys of Earth Away

Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

I send the joys of earth away;
Away, ye tempters of the mind,
False as the smooth, deceitful sea,
And empty as the whistling wind.

Your streams were floating me along
Down the gulf of dark despair,
And whilst I listen’d to your song,
Your streams had e’en conveyed me there.

Lord, I adore Thy matchless grace,
That warn’d me of that dark abyss,
That drew me from those treacherous seas,
And bade me seek superior bliss.

There, from the bosom of my God,
Oceans of endless pleasure roll;
There would I fix my last abode,
And drown the sorrows of my soul.

Pastors work with people, so they need personal skills. Pastors work with churches as organizations, so they need administrative skills. More than anything else, however, pastors work with ideas. They do the work of the mind. At minimum, they seek to grasp the meaning of God’s Word and to communicate it to their people, applying it carefully to the issues of the day. Consequently, they need both information and intellectual skill.

That skill comes largely through reading. No amount of listening to podcasts or watching videos on YouTube will take the place of reading. If you are a pastor, reading is what will give you something to say.

Of course, you will do a certain amount of reading as you prepare for preaching. You will read your text; in fact, you will translate it. You will read the principal grammars that address issues within your text. You will read commentaries that explore your text (preferably after you have already drawn your own tentative conclusions).

Besides all that, you will be reading the Bible straight through. Maybe you won’t read it through every year, but you will read through the Bible regularly. Over time, you will read through all the principal translations (I’m presently reading through the NET Bible).

If a pastor is going to know how to apply the Bible’s teaching to the questions of the day, he needs to know what those questions are. He needs to know what events are affecting the spiritual, intellectual, and moral environment of the people to whom he preaches. He needs to know how those events are being perceived by the communities in which his church members live.

Probably the worst place to gain that information is through standard news reportage, whether in print, broadcast, or internet. The press has exactly two jobs: (1) get the facts, and (2) tell the truth. It consistently fails in both departments. The problem is not that the news outlets are biased or incompetent; the problem is that they pretend they aren’t. Because their bias is hidden, it is poisonous.

The better alternative is to seek news coverage from outlets that admit their bias up front. In other words, the journals of opinion will do far more to help a pastor understand both the events and how they are being perceived than any putatively objective news source. The key is to read journals that speak from a variety of perspectives. Happily, almost all of them are available online, and in most cases you can access them for free.

Because liberalism keeps changing, knowing the liberal perspective from week to week can prove daunting. The journals on the Left will help you track its current manifestations. The New Republic has taken a liberal slant for generations, as has the Nation (though years ago it had a conservative editor). Mother Jones is a newer journal on the Left, and Slate is newer still. A radically secular and anti-religious variety of liberalism appears in the Humanist. The perspective of mainline, liberal “Christianity” can be found in the Christian Century. You can read a fair representation of the Evangelical Left in Sojourners.

On the conservative side of the spectrum, National Review is the granddaddy publication. Founded by William F. Buckley, Jr., it has been the conservative flagship for over six decades. As might be expected, it represents a generally paleo-conservative perspective. For a more neo-conservative point of view with a religious flavor, First Things is the place to go. Other periodicals like the American Conservative and the American Spectator are more populist in their approach, but still register on the conservative side of the spectrum (though the American Spectator is closer to the edge). Unfortunately, evangelical conservatives do not publish a responsible journal of opinion—the kind of thing that Christianity Today was founded to be but hasn’t actually been for decades. In the absence of something strictly evangelical, an acceptable alternative is probably Touchstone, which is published by a team of “mere Christians” who are evangelical, Orthodox, and Catholic.

A journal that does not neatly fit any mold is the New Criterion, which gives significant coverage to arts, letters, and serious cultural trends. It does not aim to be strictly conservative. If anything, it represents an antique version of liberalism. Its editors, however, still hold a commitment to meaning, beauty, and (strangest of all) to norms. Consequently, it often seems conservative by comparison. It’s worth reading, and it has become my go-to journal for cultural discussion since Harpers and Atlantic have gone down as ideological shills.

What should you look for in these journals? The short answer is, whatever interests either you or the people to whom you minister. Certainly you should scan the reviews of books and movies: you would never watch Cuties, for example, but you’d better know what it represents. You should also skim the headlines of the feature articles. You can concentrate on articles discussing trends that will affect churches, ministries, and families. Ignorance of these things is not a virtue.

When I was a pastor I would try to spend two to three hours every week checking these and similar publications. In those days I had to drive to the public library to do this reading. Now I can do the same job directly from my computer.

These sources won’t give you the late-breaking news, but they will help you follow the major stories. Each one will also give you a unique perspective on the events that it covers. Knowing those perspectives can be useful to a pastor, even when they are wrong. A couple of hours every week spent glancing through these periodicals is a worthwhile investment in knowing what you’re talking about.

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 to the Ark

Christian Hymn Book, 1841

Come to the ark, come to the ark;
To Jesus come away:
The pestilence walks forth by night,
The arrows fly by day.

Come to the ark: the waters rise,
The seas their billows rear;
While darkness gathers o’er the skies,
Behold a refuge near!

Come to the ark, all, all that weep
Beneath the sense of sin:
Without, deep calleth unto deep,
But all is peace within.

Come to the ark, ere yet the flood
Your lingering steps oppose;
Come, for the door which open stood
Is now about to close.

The Sixth Commandment forbids murder. This commandment is one of God’s moral laws, grounded in His nature, and articulated across the dispensations. The first murderer, Cain, faced God’s judgment for his crime (Gen 4:8–12). After the Flood, God pronounced capital punishment to be the penalty for murder (Gen 9:5–6). Jesus expounded the Sixth Commandment in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 5:21–26). The apostle John warns church saints against becoming murderers like Cain (1 John 3:12). These and many other scriptures clearly teach that murder is always and everywhere wrong.

The Lord Jesus applied the Sixth Commandment in ways that went beyond physical murder (Matt 5:21–26). According to Jesus, other violations of this commandment include unjustified anger, abusive speech, and character assassination. Jesus was pointing out that the Sixth Commandment (as well as the others) implies more than it states directly. He was also pointing out that God’s people are responsible both to work out and to live out the implications of the commandments.

One attempt at working out the implications of the Ten Commandments can be found in the Westminster Larger Catechism. The catechism devotes an entire section to duties that are required in the Sixth Commandment (Q 135). Another section (Q 136) deals with sins that this commandment forbids.

Remarkably, the catechism does not consider all homicide to be murder. On the contrary, it recognizes the possibility of taking another life lawfully as part of “public justice, lawful war, or necessary defence.” This position is not surprising: the Westminster Standards were drafted by Puritans whose New Model Army trounced the Cavaliers in the English Civil War. The same Puritans ultimately executed Charles I for treason. These men were not afraid of a fight.

Nevertheless, they were lovers of peace and temperance. The burden of their comments in the Larger Catechism is not to justify violence but to escape it. The duties that the catechism infers from the Sixth Commandment include “avoiding all occasions, temptations, and practices, which tend to the unjust taking away the life of any.” Furthermore, God requires attitudes characterized by “charitable thoughts, love, compassion, meekness, gentleness, kindness; peaceable, mild, and courteous speeches and behavior: forbearance, readiness to be reconciled, patient bearing and forgiving of injuries, and requiting good for evil.” Among the sins that the commandment forbids are “sinful anger, hatred, envy, desire of revenge . . . provoking words; oppression, quarreling, striking, wounding, and whatsoever else tends to the destruction of the life of any.”

The thrust of these teachings is that we do not have to commit a murder ourselves to become guilty of murder. Provoking a murder gives us at least a share of the guilt. Consequently, we must avoid not only murder but also those behaviors which incline people toward murder. If we wish to avoid bloodguiltiness, then we will not even go looking for trouble. To the best of our ability we will stay out of situations where we know it could arise. We will not strut, bluster, or carry a chip on our shoulder. We will not display a demanding, bellicose, or vengeful attitude. We will not degrade people in either our speech or our manner. Instead, we will model gentleness, kindness, patience, reconciliation, forgiveness, and forbearance.

If the Larger Catechism is right (and I believe it is), then these standards are implicit in God’s moral law. As such they are not merely Christian virtues to be cultivated by the most spiritual among the redeemed, but moral minimums for all human beings. A civilization that tolerates their transgression can expect natural consequences to follow. Among other results, it will pay the price of increasing brutality and anarchy.

That appears to be where American civilization stands at this moment. American civilization now glorifies exactly those behaviors and attitudes that tend toward murder. It rewards brashness, swagger, and confrontation. Its people are conditioned to respond with demonstrations instead of due process, slander instead of sober speech, and riot instead of reason. America has a civilization that has lost its moral center and is consequently faced with the choice between either uncontrolled chaos or the sheer will to power. Those whose sole concern is power are willing to use the threat of chaos as their stalking horse, temporarily fostering anarchy until tyranny begins to seem like an acceptable alternative.

So great is the pressure that people who traditionally favor order and decency—that is to say, conservatives—have begun to feel as if they must respond in kind. They have begun to resort to coarseness, caricature, abusive speech, and the argumentum ad baculum. If the Left mounts a protest, then the Right feels that it has to counter-protest. If the Left carries Molotov cocktails and bricks, then the Right shows up brandishing guns. This tactic plays right into the hands of the Left because every escalation brings the civilization one step closer to anarchy, and after anarchy comes tyranny—which by definition can never be conservative.

Perhaps that last comment requires a word of explanation. Someone might object that Naziism and Fascism produced tyrannies, did they not? Of course they did, but the difference between Communism and Fascism is not a difference between the Left and the Right. It is a difference between two versions of the Left. The operative word in National Socialism (Naziism) is socialism. All socialist schemes—indeed, all schemes for economic and social leveling or “social justice”—are by definition Leftist and by definition unjust. I repeat: no genuine conservative ever favors tyranny, even in the name of Nationalism.

Now, back to the point. Not only Christians but all people who wish to avoid the charge of murder must commit themselves to keeping the Sixth Commandment and all its implications. We who profess to be genuinely conservative (let alone Christian) have a duty both to avoid unnecessary conflict and to de-escalate unavoidable conflicts if we can. As our civilization becomes more anarchic, our duty is to stand forth as voices of reason and temperance. We must resist the temptation to demonize our opponents or to appeal to violence. We must distance ourselves from every behavior and attitude that tends to inflame violence and to incite the taking of life. Unfortunately, those behaviors and attitudes have become too common on the Right as well as the Left, in both public and private discourse, by the high and mighty as well as the low and mouthy.

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.

Great King of Glory and of Grace

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Great King of glory and of grace,
We own, with humble shame,
How vile is our degen’rate race,
And our first father’s name.

From Adam flows our tainted blood,
The poison reigns within;
Makes us averse to all that’s good,
And willing slaves to sin.

Daily we break thy holy laws,
And then reject thy grace;
Engaged in the old serpent’s cause,
Against our Maker’s face.

We live estranged afar from God,
And love the distance well;
With haste we run the dangerous road
That leads to death and hell.

And can such rebels be restored?
Such natures made divine?
Let sinners see thy glory, Lord,
And feel this power of thine.

We raise our Fathers name on high
Who his own Spirit sends
To bring rebellious strangers nigh,
And turn his foes to friends.

(With apologies to Wilbur Smith, who has already used this title, and to Murray Harris, who borrowed it from him before I could)

I won’t sugar coat the news: I just turned sixty-five. I can remember when my mother’s father turned this age. He seemed ancient and used up. But then he had fought in the Great War, supported a family during the Depression, and lived through World War Two, the Korean War, and a good bit of the Johnson administration.

My earliest recollection is of being strapped down to a hospital gurney and having my stomach pumped. I was just over a year old, and apparently I had got into the aspirin. Nobody could tell how many I may have gulped. The experience was terrifying. It felt like the end of the world.

About that time my father built a small house outside Mapleton, Michigan. The water was so salty that it corroded the plumbing. Dad also built me a playhouse in the back yard, near an open field of sandy hills. I could listen to the bobwhites whistle in the scrub.

When I was three or four years old my parents trusted Christ as Savior. I was old enough to notice the change that came into our home. Some habits suddenly disappeared. New ones took their place. We began to attend church whenever it was open: typically, four services per week. Every visiting missionary or Bible teacher became a guest in our home. My parents did not simply profess faith. Their lives genuinely changed as they grew in faith and good works.

My own conversion came at seven years of age. At ten I followed the Lord in believer’s baptism. Shortly afterward I recognized consciously and deliberately the claim that Christ held over my life, and I submitted myself to serve Him in whatever way He wished.

During my first ten or eleven years we constantly had foster children in our home. Over the years I had more than twenty foster brothers and sisters, besides my own sisters and brother. Some were with us only for a few weeks; others stayed for years. Some were newborns. Others were advancing into their upper teens. Fully half were mentally “retarded” (as we called it in those days). The rest brought plenty of emotional baggage from their circumstances, but all were special. Cindy and Kelly had watched their mother murder their father. Sarah was a newborn who was with us long enough to seem like a real little sister. Ray was six or seven years older than me, strong as a bull, and acted like a big brother. Whenever one of them was taken away it felt like the end of the world.

Everybody was scared of communism and nuclear war during those days. In school we practiced hiding under our desks from nuclear attack. At church camp and in youth rallies we were regularly warned that the communists had sworn to take over America by 1972, and they were ahead of schedule. Of course, we now know that it won’t happen until 2022.

My first recollection of global events comes from November 22, 1963, when Mrs. Mullarz, our elementary principal, came into our classroom and told our teacher to turn on the radio. President Kennedy had just been shot. School was dismissed early that day and didn’t resume for a week. It felt as if a world had ended.

Over the next several years we witnessed a string of assassinations: Malcolm X (1965), Martin Luther King, Jr. (1968), and Bobby Kennedy (1968). Viet Nam began to heat up, eventually leading to anti-war protests. Those were years of civil unrest: hippies, yippies, the 1967 race riots, more riots at the 1968 Democratic National Convention, the Chicago Seven, the Kent State shootings, the University of Wisconsin bombing. In Cleveland the Cuyahoga River caught fire in 1969. Later that year Woodstock was supposed to be about peace and love, but what I remember is that somebody else had to clean up the mess—which is a bit of a metaphor for my generation. Then Woodstock was followed by Altamont. So much the worse for peace and love.

At the end of 1968 my parents left Michigan for Bible college. My father graduated in 1973, the same spring that I graduated from high school. He graduated in the top half of his class; I graduated in the bottom half of mine. Richard Nixon was the president, the nation was in the middle of an energy crisis, stagflation was running rampant, and the Watergate hearings were just beginning.

I managed to cram a four-year bachelor’s program into the next six years. I also gained experience as a factory worker, a hot asphalt roofer, a lifeguard, a warehouse laborer, and a retail salesman. During that time I met, courted, and wed a farmer’s daughter from southern Iowa. Within a year of our marriage I knew that the Lord was leading me toward vocational ministry. In June of 1979 we moved to Denver for seminary. The next four years brought my M.Div., my Th.M., and an invitation to teach in a Bible college.

That teaching experience lasted only two years, but it was when our daughter was born. I left the Bible college for a pastorate, and that is where our son was born. During that pastorate I began work on a D.Min. While finishing the D.Min., I left the pastorate to begin work on a Ph.D. Then, while working on the Ph.D., I led in planting a church near Dallas, pastoring that congregation for several years. At the beginning of 1998 I began teaching at Central Baptist Theological Seminary.

One thing I’ve learned: the end of the world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. The Asian Flu epidemic of 1957-58 was going to be the end of the world. Then it was the Cuban Missile Crisis. Perhaps it was the Civil Rights Movement, desegregation, and bussing. Or was it Viet Nam? Or global cooling? Perhaps it was the Counterculture—or maybe Watergate. No, it was the Iran hostage crisis. Or the Swine Flu. Or AIDS. Wait, it must have been Ruby Ridge. Or Waco. Or the Clinton presidency in general. Or the Oklahoma City bombing. Or global warming. On second (third? fourth?) thought, it must have been the Avian Flu. Or the West Nile Virus. Or Ebola. Or September 11. Or the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan. Or climate change.

Come to think of it, I’ve endured one end of the world after another—yet here I am. God is still governing the universe. Christ is still coming. We Christians still have a job to do. We have not been called to panic or to speak shrill words. We have been called, you and me, simply to be faithful.

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.

Hallelujah, Praise Jehovah

The Psalter, 1912

Hallelujah, praise Jehovah,
O my soul, Jehovah praise;
I will sing the glorious praises
Of my God through all my days.
Put no confidence in princes,
Nor for help on man depend;
He shall die, to dust returning,
And his purposes shall end.

Happy is the man that chooses
Israel’s God to be his aid;
He is blessed whose hope of blessing
On the Lord his God is stayed.
Heav’n and earth the Lord created,
Seas and all that they contain;
He delivers from oppression,
Righteousness he will maintain.

Food he daily gives the hungry,
Sets the mourning prisoner free,
Raises those bowed down with anguish,
Makes the sightless eyes to see.
Well Jehovah loves the righteous,
And the stranger he befriends,
Helps the fatherless and widow,
Judgment on the wicked sends.

Hallelujah, praise Jehovah,
O my soul, Jehovah praise;
I will sing the glorious praises
Of my God through all my days.
Over all God reigns for ever,
Through all ages he is king;
Unto him, your God, O Zion,
Joyful hallelujahs sing.