I'm very grateful for the opportunity
to address you on this subject this afternoon. Thank you for
the invitation. It's a subject that's been much on my mind over
a number of years, and it's a very important subject. An important
subject not just for those of us who try to preach, but for
all Christians. There are those who say, well,
surely only preachers need to worry about preaching. That's
a very false view. Any one of us, if we are in the
church, may have to make a decision one day about whether a certain
man is called to preach. And if we've not thought about
what it is to be called to preach, then how are we to make that
judgment? Let me just say three things by way of introduction.
The title, as you've heard, is about the call to the ministry
in the writings of high Calvinist ministers of the 19th century.
And I've drawn mainly from the works of those men. There is
some that has come from other quarters as well, but mainly
from that section of the church. And you might be ready to ask,
what do I mean by a high Calvinist? And I'm not going to try and
give you a definition, because I don't think there is one. These
labels can be unhelpful. I remember hearing that someone
even called Calvin a hyper-Calvinist, which is obviously nonsense. So I've had to go by my own judgment,
and you may disagree. But I think all the men that
I'm going to talk about this afternoon have something worth saying about
the call to ministry. The second thing is, when I talk
about the call to ministry, I'm talking about the call to preach.
There are other ministries, and in a sense, all Christians are
called to minister, to serve, but they're not all called to
preach. And of course, we have to consider in a few moments what
preaching is, which is a question in itself. And then the third
thing is that really there is no such thing as the call to
preach. What I mean is that there's variety,
even amongst high Calvinists. And surely it's very dangerous
to lay down rules here. I don't think there'll be anything
radical or new in the things that I've got to say to you.
I'll admit I found the preparation rather difficult. When you look
at these men, they seem to live on a higher spiritual plane.
And when you compare your own experience, and especially my
own preaching to theirs, it seems very inferior. So I'm laying
down the standard here that I really feel I've failed to measure up
to. And I may say some things that you disagree with over the
next hour or so, and that's okay. I want to divide the things that
I've got to say to you into three sections. The first of all, what
is it to be called to preach? How is a man to know whether
he is called to preach? The second is, what is it to
preach? When a man is called to preach, what exactly is he
called to do? And then the third thing, just a few practical and
perhaps controversial points. And I want to look at the role
of preparation and study in preaching, the need or the importance of
the knowledge of the original languages. Is it essential? Is
it necessary? And then thirdly, the use of notes when preaching. First and a few points about
the core to preach. When you can look through the
writings of these high Calvinists, you'll find that some of them
have tried to write a list and when you compare their lists,
they're all obviously slightly different. I want to talk about five things
this afternoon in this section. First of all, the inward call.
Secondly, the way in which many of these, if not all of these
men, shrank from that call. Thirdly, a sense of constraint
that they have often, if not always felt. Fourthly, the way
in which the call is often confirmed by other people, and the way
that other people can be made useful in bringing it to fruition.
And then fifthly, the importance of gifts and abilities, and how
much we ought to think about these things when we are considering
the call to preach. And again, don't imagine that
I'm claiming to measure up to everything that I bring before
you this afternoon. I'm trying to summarise what these men thought,
and I'm trying to put before you what they thought, whether
I fail to measure up to it or not. So firstly, the inward call. It's not surprising that these
High Calvinists who generally insisted on a religion that is
more than notion, that must affect the heart as well as the mind,
they're very strong on this point. But it would be a mistake to
suppose that only high Calvinists have realised it. I'm not reading these words of
Martin Lloyd-Jones because I think he was a high Calvinist of the
19th century, but because he puts it in words that are better
than the ones that I could come up with. This is what he says
about the inward core. Preaching, he says, is never
something that a man decides to do. What happens, rather,
is that he becomes conscious of a core. A core generally starts
in the form of a consciousness within one's own spirit, an awareness
of a kind of pressure being brought to bear upon one's spirit, some
disturbance in the realm of the spirit, and your mind is being
directed to the whole question of preaching. You have not thought
of it deliberately. You have not sat down in cold
blood to consider possibilities and then, having looked at several,
decided to take this one. It is not that. This is something
that happens to you. It is God dealing with you and
God acting upon you by his Spirit. It is something you become aware
of rather than something you do. It is thrust upon you. It
is presented to you and forced upon you almost constantly in
this way. Well, it would be very easy to give countless illustrations
of this in the lives of these 19th century high Calvinists.
The important point, I think, is that many of them recognize
that this experience by itself is not sufficient to constitute
a call. In other words, a man can experience this inward pressure,
and yet it not ultimately be a call to preach. Listen to what
Mr. Philpott says. Take the case
of one really called by grace in his youth, blessed with the
love of God shed abroad in his heart, possessed of a fair mind,
a fair share of ability of mind, knowledge of the scripture and
utterance in prayer. Many, if not most of such, will feel an
impulse to testify to what God has done to their soul and to
give themselves up to his service. But time abundantly shows them
that this is not called to the ministry, because as their first
love declines, these movements also decline with them. It is
not, therefore, every secret impulse or movement of the mind,
even when honest and sincere, or every inward persuasion of
the heart or desire for the work, which would prove to be a call
to the ministry. There must be, therefore, other things to constitute
a divine and sufficient call. John McKenzie, the editor of
the Gospel Standard, together with Mr. Philpott, he says, what
mark then have we that a man is really sent of God to preach?
Some will say, is it not sufficient that the scripture is applied
to his mind to go? No, that is not always a safe and certain
rule. In other words, not everyone who feels called is called. And surely that is something
that all who preach will realize. Not even everyone who has scripture
applied to his mind to go is called. And so this leads to
what Mr. Philpott also observed when he
said, It is a very difficult and delicate point clearly to
lay down what is a sufficient call to the ministry. For many
of God's own sent servants, who have been most fully received
by the living family as his commissioned ambassadors, have been much tried
to make their calling to the work plain and clear to their
own satisfaction. And again, this point is not
something that is restricted to high Calvinist preachers.
This inward call, it's a vital thing, but it's not a sufficient
thing. The second point, the second bark of a corn, really
is a shrinking from it. Again, Martin Lloyd-Jones puts
this very well. He says, realizing what is involved
in preaching, it is inevitable that a man will feel unworthy
and inadequate. So he is not only hesitant, he
questions his feelings and queries it and examines it very carefully.
He does his utmost to push it away. There's a real mystery
or a paradox in the experience of so many of these High Calvinists
of the 19th century. They long to preach, and yet
they dread preaching. They really want to preach, and
yet they don't want to preach. Perhaps the best example is William
Gadsby. He says, when the Lord first
put into my heart a spiritual concern about preaching the gospel,
a greater fool never had existence. I'd been brought up in a country
place, where my speech was so broad that I could only say mourn
for man and call for can. And my appearance and manners
were all of a piece. And as it respected literature
or learning, I could not read a single chapter in the Bible.
All were full of what I called hard words from beginning to
end. And what with my want of learning and want of language
and my great ignorance, it appeared altogether the highest pitch
of presumption for a fool like me to attempt to preach at all.
Yet I could not get rid of the feeling. I got into such a state
of mind that I could not rest in my bed. And many a time, I
have gone into the cellar with only my nightclothes on, in order
to catch cold and get my death. But I could not die for the life
of me. Mr. Philpott says, those whom
God calls to the work, he usually so strips and empties, so pulls
down, humbles and abases, So shows them what the ministry
is, and their own unfitness for it, that they shrink back from
so arduous and important a work, and can scarcely be persuaded
that they are called to it. John Warburton, he said this,
think about preaching, oh that I could but get rid of the thought
of it. John Mackenzie, he said I would fame give up preaching,
yet somehow I cannot. and it goes to my heart like
a dagger to think that I must be a regular preacher, wholly
given up to the ministry. Every time I finish preaching,
I think I can preach no more. I have said all I can say, or
know, or can think of. These men saw preaching as such
a high calling that they could not think of anything more worth
doing, but also as such a high responsibility that they could
not think of anything they were less qualified to do. They longed
to preach, and yet they shrank from preaching. They often also had a great fear
of being deceived. They realized that it was not
as simple as just feeling called and then taking up the work.
They knew something of their heart's deceitfulness and the
danger of taking up preaching out of quite wrong motives. Now
some people that I have met have wondered whether this is possible.
They say surely if a man is called to this work he would be sure
of it. and it will be a clear and plain thing to him. But you
just read the experiences of these men. Thomas Godwin, who
was a good friend of J.C. Philpott. I began to fear and
tremble, he said, fearing I should run and not be sent by the Lord. George Mockford, pastor at Heathfield.
I had for a long time been much exercised about the ministry,
sometimes feeling it was right, and then again fearing that I
was altogether deceived about it. This is one of J.C. Philpott's marks of accord to
the ministry. He says, there will be many fears
of being deceived by false impressions, being deluded by Satan as an
angel of light, or being impelled to so great and arduous a work
by pride, ambition, lust of praise, and distinction, a name among
men, or other equally base and carnal motives. But as these
fears work, and the cry comes forth, search me, O God, and
know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts,
and see if there be any wicked way in me. The soul is thus made
increasingly honest and sincere, and willing to go or stay, speak
or be silent. John Kershaw, in one of his sermons,
he said, many of God's ministers spend as much time, if not more,
in earnest prayer, supplication, and wrestling with the Lord,
in reference to their call to the work of the ministry than
they do in reference to their call by grace. The poor worm
in the pulpit, he said, speaking about himself, who has stood
on Zion's walls more than 50 years, had more exercises and
wrestlings with the Lord in reference to his being sent of God to preach
the gospel than he had with respect to his effectual call by grace.
This brings me on to the third mark of a call to preach, which
is a sense of constraint. And of course there's a link
to the backwardness to preach mentioned above. Charles Sturgeon,
and again I'm not saying he was a High Calvinist, he used to
say, do not enter the ministry if you can help it. If you can
stay out of the ministry, stay out of the ministry. He didn't
mean that a man must have tried everything else and failed. What
he meant was that the only people who should enter the ministry
are those who can't help it, those who cannot be satisfied
without preaching. Another man said, you are certain
of the call when you are unable to keep it back and to resist
it. You do your utmost to push it back, but you reach the point
when you cannot do so any longer. In the end, you say, I can do
nothing else. I cannot resist any longer. Again,
Thomas Godwin, I've already spoken about him, and he wrote of his
deep exercise of soul about the ministry. It came upon me again
with such overwhelming power. This went on for about 12 months,
so that I had no rest. Then the fourth part of this
call, the way in which it is very often confirmed by other
people. When you read the experiences
of these high Calvinists of the 19th century, you very often
find that this has been the way in which it has come to fruition.
This has often been the catalyst which has brought things to a
head. And very often this has been what the preacher has prayed
for. Again, Thomas Godwin prayed, Lord, if it is thy will that
I should speak in thy name, incline thy people to press me. Alexander
Taylor, William Gadsby's successor, he spoke of his experience when
certain people pressed me to try and speak in the Lord's name.
Edward Samuel, he was a converted Jew. He had a remarkable experience.
He was exercised about preaching. He went to a chapel which he'd
never been to before, and the preacher didn't turn up. And
he was pressed three times by the deacon to preach. He'd never
met this deacon before. And ultimately he did preach,
and he said to the deacon afterwards, why were you so insistent? And
the deacon said, well, this woman will tell you. And it turned
out that this woman had had a dream the previous night in which she
had seen a man preaching in the pulpit. And when Edward Samuel
came into the chapel, she recognised him. That was the man that she
had seen in her dream. Again, George Mockford of Heathfield,
he says, I begged of him that he would himself lay it upon
the minds of his people if it were his will to send me unto
them. And this came to pass when one day he went to a certain
chapel to read a sermon. And he put the sermon down on
the desk and someone took it. And when he asked for it back,
they said, no, you're going to preach. Not an experience that many of
us would envy. But he did preach, and that was the beginning of
his ministry. This is the way in which it is often being confirmed
by other people. But it didn't always work that
way. And this is what I mean when I say that there isn't a
cause for the ministry. It often happened in different
ways. You read of a man called Francis Coble. He had been anxious
about preaching for seven or eight years, and having left
a previous place of worship dissatisfied, he was meeting with a few other
people for reading and prayer at home. And this exercise about
preaching so worked in his heart that one day they were having
a service and he had a sermon to read. but he felt constrained
to begin to make some remarks upon a text which had been impressed
upon his mind. And this was the beginning of
his ministry. And of course, if you have ever read his experience,
you will know that famously, the stutter which he had previously
suffered from was at that same time taken away entirely, and
he didn't stutter for the rest of his life. This is what Mr. Philpott talks about. He says,
there will also generally be Where the Lord has called a man
to this work, an impression on the minds of the discerning part
of God's people, that he will one day stand up in his name.
This arises sometimes from hearing his experience when he joins
the Church, sometimes from his peculiar gift in prayer, or his
knowledge of and light upon the Scriptures, or his spirituality
of mind in conversation, or his firmness in the truth, or his
warmth and zeal in defending the cause of God, or his circumspect
walk, his separation from the world and general devotedness
of life, and all joined with that measure of mental ability
which seems indispensable for a man who has to preach the Word
of God, to instruct the ignorant, edify the Church of Christ and
convince the gainsayer. Surely Bernard Gilpin was right
when he wrote, it is not merely one definite intimation of God's
will that he should preach. but it is rather the concurrence
of numberless intimations and various circumstances, inward
and outward, which all conspire together and keep collecting
as he advances to strengthen him in the work. In the early
beginnings of the spiritual course of many, there is often a kind
of fleshly zeal with much natural feeling in it, which the person
for a time mistakes for this heavenly call. that those whom
the Lord favours are enabled sooner or later to detect the
deception of this. Sometimes a true chord begins
in the midst of all this excess of feeling, but the subject of
it, through God's mercy, gets disappointed, humbled, mortified,
till perhaps he accomplishes, like Moses, 40 years in the wilderness
of Midian, where the call is really of God, providential events,
and spiritual events, exercises, conflicts, fears and hopes in
the man himself gradually prepare the way so that when the Lord's
time comes the open door is set before him. Of course the church has a role
here to check and to discern whether a man is sent and often
in former days it would actually be the church that would take
the first step in asking a man to test his preaching gift before
the church. If the member himself was exercised
and his preaching acceptable, he was then sanctioned to preach.
I feel that some might criticise this today. They would say, well,
we don't want to put our hand to it. But this is quite wrong.
There are some things that the church ought to put a hand to. The Puritan William Perkins lived
in the 16th century rather than the 19th, but he writes, how
can you know for yourself whether God wants you to go or not? You
must ask both your own conscience and the church. For if you are
genuinely willing and are fully and worthily qualified, then
God bids you to go. Your conscience must judge of
your own willingness and the church of your ability. just
as you may not trust other men to judge your willingness, so
you may not trust yourself to judge your ability. If therefore
your own conscience tells you, after careful self-examination,
that you do not love and desire this calling above any other,
then God is not sending you. If this is true of you, it is
not God, but some worldly and sinister consideration that has
motivated you and put you forward. But even if you desire the call
to the ministry above any other, if the Church of God does not
recognise your sufficiency, God is not sending you. Both of these
things, he says, are absolutely essential. Moving on to the fifth mark of
a call, and here we have to consider the place of gifts and abilities. Did you notice when I read Mr
Philpott a few moments ago He talked about the marks of the
call, but then he says, they must all be joined with that
measure of mental ability, which seems indispensable for a man
who has to preach the word of God, to instruct the ignorant,
edify the church of Christ, and convince the gainsayer. It's
fair to say that Philpott is rather unusual amongst these
high Calvinists in mentioning this, let alone stressing it
in the way that he does. One of the things that we sometimes
fail to do is to make the distinction between education and mental
ability. Philpott is not saying that preachers
need to be educated. Many high Calvinists were suspicious
of education when it came to preaching. William Huntington
gave this advice to someone who wrote to him and saying they
were exercised about the ministry and they were thinking of going
to a certain academy in Wales. He said, I by no means approve
of your going to the academy in Wales. If Jehovah the Spirit
abide on thee, thou hast no call to go so far. William Gadsby,
during his life, he kept aloof from the various Baptist colleges
and academies that emerged But men like these, Huntington and
Gadsby, they were largely uneducated themselves, and so we can understand
them speaking and writing in this way. But there were also
other men, like Mr Philpott and William Tipton and others, who
were highly educated. And yet they proved that their
education was really of very little benefit to them when it
came to spiritual things. So we can understand why they
too might question the value of education. Having said all
that, Mr. Philpot did also say, when he
wrote about learning and education, that when these are sanctified
to the service of the sanctuary, they have their place in the
world, and are not to be rejected or despised. Huntington, he said,
really there are three kinds of hearers. He said there are
the poor and the uneducated, and these are the people that
I am called to preach to. But he also spoke of the nobility
and the gentry. And he said these being learned
people, God usually sends gentlemen of eminent learning to preach
to them. So even these men did not deny that an education can
be made use of. But when Philpott spoke of a
measure of mental ability, he was not talking about education.
A person can be highly educated without having real mental ability.
And a man can have mental ability without being educated. And like
Huntington, John Bunyan, William Gadsby. These were uneducated
men, but they were not stupid men. They had mental ability. Philpott goes on to say, a minister
should be apt to teach, and therefore he must have some teaching ability
in him. But this requires at least such
a clearness of thought and speech as shall preserve him and his
hearers from being lost in a fog of confusion. These are the five
points then that these high Calvinists often spoke of and wrote about. The inward call, that sense that
comes into a man unprompted and unasked for and unlooked for
that sets him thinking about the ministry. Secondly, the way
that he so often shrinks from that call and tries to push it
away from himself. Thirdly, the sense of constraint.
Fourthly, the way in which the call is often confirmed by others.
And then fifthly, the importance of a gift, of ability. So I've
spoken about the call. And as I've tried to say, it's
not an easy thing. It's not a simple thing. It's not something you
can write down a formula and say x plus y equals a call to
preach. It's a difficult thing. But we
have also to consider what the call is to. It's easy to overlook
this. We talk about the core to preach
and very often we focus on the core. But what is it a core to
do? And some people might be ready
to say, well of course it's to preach. Surely we all know what
preaching is. We all understand what preaching
is. But I wouldn't be surprised if I was to ask each one of you
what preaching is if I got as many different answers as there
are people in this room. What is preaching? What was the
view of these men? on what preaching actually is. Well, one thing they generally
were all very ready to emphasize was the element of experience.
They contended for an experimental ministry. And there are those
who contend for an experimental ministry today, and they talk
about an experimental ministry, but just like preaching in general.
I've never met anyone really who's been able to give me a
good definition of what experimental preaching is. They all are ready
to say what it isn't, but it's not so easy to say what it is.
What did these men mean when they talked about experimental
preaching? Well, Mr. Philpott says, many mistakes
are made on this point. There is a creed of experience,
as there is a creed of doctrine, and the creed of experience may
be learned exactly in the same dead and dry way. There are certain
generally recognized and almost consecrated terms a set of current
phrases, which, having been used in time past by real experimental
ministers, have been handed down. And he who has learned this key
and obtained these passwords comes forward as an experimental
servant of God and puts himself at once, or is put by others,
on the role of the divinely sent ambassadors of heaven. But just
as a man does not become the Queen's ambassador to the court
of France, because he can gavel a little French. So it is not
a set of experimental phrases which makes a man an ambassador
from the king of kings to the court of Zion. And I'm sure those
of us who have been brought up in the gospel standard tradition
will recognize that. There are phrases that are frequently
trotted out. Philpott's idea of the preacher
as an ambassador is a very scriptural one. When we come across the
word preach in the New Testament, it carries with it the idea of
a herald, an ambassador, someone who is sent with a message. Well,
the herald does not come with his own ideas or with a message
that he has thought up himself. It is a message that is given
to him. Well, where does he get his message
from? Well, we're all familiar with the way in which a sermon
generally begins. The way in which, in my opinion,
it ought always to begin, it begins with the reading of a
text. The minister stands up and says, the word that we're
going to consider is such and such a word, in such and such
a chapter. And then the sermon follows on from the reading of
the text. What is the implication? The implication is that the message
that has been committed to the preacher is the word. When Paul
wrote to Timothy, his advice to him, or his instruction to
him, was to preach the Word. And, of course, we might be ready
to say, well, surely he means the incarnate Word, the Lord
Jesus Christ. And that is true. But he is in
the written Word. The written and the incarnate
Word, in all things, are the same. It's in the Word of God,
in the Scriptures, that Christ is found. This is why Philpott spoke of
that measure of mental ability which seems indispensable for
a man who has to preach the word of God. The phrase that Philpott often
uses when he speaks of this preaching is, open it. You'll find something
that he wrote on the court of the ministry and just in that
short piece, he says these, he uses that phrase three or four
times. Speaking of the preacher, he
says, he must be well established in the truth and be able to open
it up. He should also have a good knowledge
of the Word, not only as dwelling in his memory, but in his heart
and conscience, and be able to open it consistently and experimentally. There should be also some order
and variety in his ministry, which is best obtained by keeping
close to his text, and seeking to open it through its breadth
and length. In other words, the message of
the preacher ought to flow out of the word. It is as if the
word is opened and the message comes out of it. And surely that
will apply to all of the message. It's not that the preacher opens
the word and sets out some doctrines and then goes off to talk about
experience and maybe comes back at the end. all of the message
should flow out of the word. The word that we often use to
describe this kind of preaching is expository. And that's a word
that is very often misunderstood. What do we mean when we talk
about expository preaching? Well, some people think it means
a man preaching through a chapter or a book, verse by verse, or
section by section. So one Sunday he'll preach from
verse 10 and then next week he'll take up the same section and
preach from verse 11 and so on. But that really has got nothing
to do with whether the preaching is expository or not. Nor does
expository preaching mean that the preacher just stands up,
explains the literal meaning of the text and how it relates
to its context, and then sits down. Really that is at best
described as the introduction to a sermon. All of the message
is to flow out of the word. All of it is to be expository. Now we can easily imagine the
reaction of some to this suggestion. They will say, surely if the
preacher just expounds the text, won't it be rather dry? We're
not interested in dry doctrine. We sing the hymn, don't we? Dry
doctrine cannot save us. Well, that's true. But I would
answer that suggestion in three ways. And the first is this.
It's a very false expression. to talk about just expounding
the text, as if it was an easy thing to do. It's very true that
it is possible for a man to take a text, and to explain all the
individual words, and to explain how they are connected, and to
explain how they are used elsewhere in scripture, and how they relate
to the context. He can spend an hour, or a hundred
hours, speaking about what the text means in this way. But if
that is all that he does, he has not fully expounded the text.
To truly expound the text is totally impossible without the
help of the Spirit of God. And it also generally requires
great effort on the part of the preacher, as we will see in a
few moments. Secondly, the doctrines of Scripture,
when they are properly expounded, are not dry. They cannot be dry. We have to be very careful about
how we speak. If we can hear about the fall
of man, about the power, justice, mercy, compassion and grace of
God, about the incarnation, life, suffering, death, resurrection,
ascension and intercession of Christ, and say, these are dry
doctrines, something is wrong. Something is wrong not with the
doctrines, but either with the preacher, he's not truly preaching,
or perhaps just as likely with us. We are not truly hearing. And so thirdly, if the sermon
is really made up of dry doctrines, there is only one conclusion
to be drawn. The preacher is not truly expounding the text.
He may be talking about it. He may be saying true things
about man, about the Lord God, about Jesus Christ, about the
Gospel. But all this can be done without expounding the text.
And it is not preaching. Again, at best, it is only the
introduction to a sermon. What then are the characteristics
of true preaching? Well, often when you read the
writings of these high Calvinists, or read their sermons, they spoke
about three components. And they said that preaching
must be doctrinal, experimental, and practical. The danger is that we equate
the doctrinal component with what I have been saying about
exposition, as if it is only the doctrine that comes out of
the Word. This is quite wrong. All three of these components
must flow out of the text. True preaching is doctrinal because
Scripture is doctrinal. True preaching is experimental
because Scripture is experimental. It is practical because Scripture
is practical. some like to add a fourth and
say that true preaching must be evangelistic and I would agree. True preaching is evangelistic
because scripture is evangelistic and one thing I feel is that
we must stop using the word evangelical for something negative. True
preaching is full of Christ because scripture is full of Christ.
True preaching glorifies God because scripture glorifies God.
True preaching has an element of warning because Scripture
has an element of warning, and so I could go on. But the important
point is this. It is not only the doctrine and
the practice that must flow out of Scripture. It is also true
of the experience. It is very possible to preach
what some people might describe as a very experimental sermon
without touching the Word of God at all. People might go out
of the chapel saying, didn't he get on well tonight? He came
just where I was. It was as if he knew all about
my case. But there may have been nothing spiritual or scriptural
in it. Here has maybe moved to shed
tears or moved to great joy or deep emotion, but all of this
can be carnal and entirely dead. The best illustration that I
have read of this, it relates to a minister in South Wales.
And he was preaching one evening and there was a man up in the
gallery who was hearing And the preacher became conscious that
this man was weeping, weeping copiously as he heard the sermon.
And after the service, the minister went and stood at the back of
the chapel, and he was shaking hands with people as they went
out, and this man was coming towards him. And the minister
said he had a struggle. He had to decide whether to invite
that man to stay behind, and almost encourage him to make
a profession, or to just leave him. And he said, well, I'll
leave him. The man shook hands with him and they separated.
But the next evening, the preacher was walking back to the church
for a prayer meeting. And this same man was coming
the other way. And he came across the road and he shook hands with
the minister and he said, you know, pastor, if you had asked
me to stay behind last night, I would have done it. And the
preacher said, well, I'm asking you now, come with me now. And
the man said, well, not now, but if you'd asked me last night,
I would have done it. And the preacher's reply was this, he
says, if what you experienced last night has not even lasted
24 hours, I am not interested in it. He saw this as something
temporary, something emotional, an emotional only response to
the word, which didn't last. If you've ever read Jonathan
Edwards and his work on the religious affections, You would be aware
that there's so much of it that I could quote on this point.
If you've not read it, I recommend it. This is what he says. It is evident that any person
may have high affections of hope and joy arising on occasion of
texts of scripture, yea, precious promises of scripture, coming
suddenly and remarkably to their minds as though they were spoken
to them. Yea, a great multitude of such
texts, following one another in a remarkable and wonderful
manner, and yet all this is no argument that these affections
are divine, or that they are anything other than the effects
of Satan's delusions." John Mackenzie said, experience
is built upon the doctrines. What is heartfelt conviction
of sin and repentance but an experience built upon the doctrine
of the fall of man? What is the knowledge of the
joys of salvation? But an experience of the great
doctrine of the Atonement. Experience must be built upon
the doctrine. And not only that, but as I say,
experience must flow out of the Word. The Word is experimental. We could almost say that it is
a doctrine of scripture, that true religion is experimental. Let me go back to something I
said earlier. The preacher's message, that message which is
committed to him as an ambassador or a herald, is in scripture. He is to preach the word. It
is true that some may be called to preach more on a specific
topic of scripture than others. One may be called to preach more
of the terrors of the law, and another to preach more of the
comforts of the gospel. But in each and every case, the
truly sent preacher is given a message to preach. and it is
from the written word. Well, how is the preacher to
preach this message? How is he to open up the text? Some have
supposed that all he needs to do is to stand up into the pulpit
and open his mouth, and the words will be given. I have heard of
a preacher who apparently said that he did not know what he
was going to say when he got into the pulpit, but he believed
the Holy Spirit gives every word for a minister to speak, speaking
it to them as they are in the pulpit. He even said that he
believed the Holy Spirit gave them the right tone of voice
in which to speak the Word. Now this is a very delicate point,
so pay attention. It's very true that the Holy
Spirit can move a preacher to speak in a way that he never
anticipated. He can direct him to open up the text in such a
way as to meet the need of a particular hearer He can bring things into
the mind of the preacher that he had not thought of before.
But all of this, still, ultimately must come from the Scripture.
It doesn't happen in such a way that the preacher is simply like
a puppet, just speaking words that are being dictated to him
by the Lord. This is obvious because even
when this happens, even when a preacher is given this extra
information, new emphasis that he hadn't seen before. Even when
this happens, preachers make mistakes. We say things wrong
and sometimes we say the wrong things. We say chapter when we
mean verse. We say prophet when we mean priest.
We talk about the psalmist instead of the apostle. We are fallible.
Preachers today are not inspired as the prophets and apostles
were. Now many of these High Calvinists
realise this. And so in their writings, we
find them giving advice to preachers as to how they should preach.
This, of course, would not be necessary if the words themselves
simply just came. We have already mentioned J.C.
Philpott's advice that ministers should keep close to his text
and seek to open it through its breadth and length. Why did he
advise him to do this? He said this will much preserve
him from unconnected rambling or dropping into the same round
of experience which, however good and sound in itself, becomes
after a time wearisome from its very sameness and repetition.
J.C. Philpott believed that it was
possible for a minister in a pulpit, even a truly sent minister, to
be found just indulging in unconnected rambling, or dropping into the
same round of experience, which has become wearisome. We could
quote many other examples of this kind of counsel. How then
is the preacher to keep close to his text? How is he to open
it through its breadth and length? Well, this is hard work. Paul
writes of it to Timothy as a labouring in the word and doctrine. And
listen to what Dr. Gill says about this labouring.
He says, it lies in a constant reading of the scriptures, the
word of God, and diligent searching into them and comparing them
together in order to find out the mind and will of God in them.
in a daily meditation upon them and study of them, and in frequent
and fervent wrestling with God or prayer to Him to give an understanding
of them, and in endeavouring to find out the sense of difficult
passages which are hard to be understood, and in providing
for the different cases and circumstances of hearers that everyone may
have a portion, and in the choice of apt and proper words to express
truth in to the capacities of all. Notice that last one, the
choice of apt and proper words to express truth in. Now as you look through the early
gospel standards, you often get this contrast and almost a conflict.
There was obviously a reaction against the trained, intellectual,
often dry and formal ministry that was widespread. And it was
that that led to statements like this in 1842. Where the Holy Ghost qualifies
a man for the ministry, he will need no notes nor skeletons,
no Saturday evening writing or Sunday morning repetition, but
he will come before the people all weakness and helplessness,
and in it will find the strength of Christ made perfect. If these
gentlemen preachers knew something of the exercises of the servants
of the Lord, and like them had to cry and beg for a text, which
perhaps often did not come till they were in the pulpit and the
second hymn singing They would learn a lesson which would knock
all the crutches out of their hands. Where the Holy Ghost qualified
a man for the ministry, he will need no notes. It could almost
be read as suggesting that premeditation and study is something unhealthy
for the preacher, something undesirable. But if you look carefully, other
statements give a very different impression. And this is why I
say there's this conflict, this contrast. In 1838, we read these
words, some would-be preachers and apologize for themselves
by saying, I cannot study. But I am inclined to think that
those that God calls to the work of the ministry cannot help but
study. By study, I do not mean that
the minister whom God has called to the ministry should be shut
up as in a nunnery three-fourths of his time. I mean that God
so hedges him up with a knowledge of his own ignorance, of the
meaning of the Holy Ghost, and the meaning of the inspired writers
of the oracles of God that he reads, studies, and cries to
God for divine illumination into an understanding of the scripture
from his own personal necessity. It will not satisfy his own mind
to tumble out a bundle of scriptural, experimental, and doctrinal truth
that is nothing but a harangue of confusion and disorder, calculated
for nothing but darkening ground that is divine, formed by words
without knowledge and harmony, standing up as a professed teacher
of a congregation of saints and sinners, reading a portion of
the Word of God as a professed explainer or expounder of the
portion he reads, and after he has read it, never coming near
it again, unless sometimes to quote it, when it has no manner
of application to what he has been assigned, and only serves
to let his audience know that he has not forgotten it. If a
ministry of this sort is not a ministry to mock the Scriptures,
and insult the ears and judgment of that part of the congregation
that have been taught the scriptural harmony and order of divine truth,
I do not know what to call it. 1852. Learning, therefore, abilities
and study are only so far hindrances, and great hindrances too, as
they are made substitutes for the teaching and wisdom of the
Spirit. This is their great danger. 1866, every minister should be continually
reading and studying the scriptures. 1904, in regards to thy ministry,
take close heed to a diligent study of the scriptures. And
most fully, Mr. Popham in 1909, he speaks of
the way in which the minister is to be dependent on the spirit,
but he says, this dependence on the spirit, who separates
men for the work whereunto he has called them, in no way militates
against a diligent, prayerful study of the subject a minister
is to handle in the pulpit. He is, as a labourer, to compare
Scripture with Scripture, to store his mind with such matter
as he may deem necessary and suitable to his congregation.
The proper exercise of our faculties, intellect, judgment, memory,
in the sacred things of God for the work of the ministry, is
not, contrary to a lively and deep sense, of dependence on
the Spirit. But when speaking with some people,
usually with those who do not preach, I sometimes get the impression
that they feel that for a man to study the text that has been
laid upon his mind, to look into the words and seek to find out
their meaning, is cheating. Should the preacher not rely
upon the Spirit, they ask. They seem to think that the man
should just go with no forethought and just stand up and and that
words will be directly given to him. Any preparation is sometimes
seen as a symptom of a lack of faith. But it is not faith to
expect the Lord to do something that he has not promised to do.
And he has not promised that preachers will have words given
to them in this way. Jonathan Edwards wrote, since
there is no immediate suggesting of words from the Spirit of God
to be expected or desired, They who neglect and despise study
and free meditation in order to aid preparation for the pulpit
in such an expectation are guilty of presumption. Though doubtless,
it may be lawful for some persons in some cases, and they may be
called to it, to preach with very little study. And the Spirit
of God, by the heavenly frame of heart that he gives them,
may enable them to do it to excellent purpose. In the words of one present-day
High Calvinist preacher, what people fail to realise is that
the Spirit operates as freely in the study as in the pulpit.
We can be as greatly dependent and receive the same magnitude
of the Spirit's leading in our study in the week before the
service as we can in the pulpit on the Lord's Day. It is not
study and preparation or the work of the Spirit. The former
can never be a substitute for the latter. And it is obviously
true that one can spend too much time in study and not enough
in prayer. I have had to confess this often. Another present-day High Calvinist
minister wrote, I am brought to acknowledge that my order
is not right, for I spend more time in study and preparation
than I do in prayer. I see it, but how to rectify
it is another matter. No amount of study can ever substitute
for a lack of prayer. And no amount of study and prayer
can ever substitute for a lack of the Spirit's help, because
the Word is spiritual. Perhaps the last word on this
point should be that quoted in the Gospel standard in 1980 on
the work of a minister. Be diligent and industrious in
your studies. He that does not prepare what
to say to the people tempts God to come out of his ordinary way
to his assistance. He that depends upon his own
preparation makes a god of his gifts. This is the narrow line
that the preacher has to tread, to prepare most diligently and
yet not rely on his preparation. Finally, just one or two perhaps
controversial practical considerations. And I wasn't sure whether to
bring these in, but I thought if we don't we're just leaving a
gaping hole. What about the knowledge of the original languages? Is
it necessary for the preacher to know Hebrew and Greek? Well,
obviously it is not essential. Many eminent preachers of the
past were not able to, and many able preachers today are not
able to. But we ought not to be ashamed of saying that a translation
is a translation, and cannot convey the truth as accurately
as the original. That is why the margins of our
Bibles are full of alternative translations. I firmly believe
the authorised version to be the best available English translation,
but I do not believe it is as perfect as the original inspired
text. It cannot be. Some seem to be
alarmed at this kind of statement, saying that it is finding fault
with the authorised version. But the translators were not
inspired in the same way that the original writers were. And
no matter how gifted the translator, it is practically impossible
to convey the entire meaning when translating from one language
into another. That's why, just to give one
example, when Paul says to Timothy, study to show thyself approved
unto God, that exact same Greek word that is translated shown
in that passage appears seven times in the New Testament, four
times it's translated as present, once as provide, once as prove,
and once as show. There is an element of art in
translation, not just science. Mr. Philpott himself wrote, and
he was talking about commentators, but surely it should include
all preachers in a sense. He said, an interpreter of the
word of God should have a deep and well-grounded knowledge of
the languages in which the scriptures were originally written. Some
may say it is too difficult. But I remember hearing of two
old men, still remembered by some who are alive today, in
the Midlands who struggled with English, but read the Bible in
the original languages fluently. They had no paper, no textbook,
but they used to trace the Hebrew letters on a tray of wet sand.
Such was their desire to read the Word of God in the original
tongues. Probably there are some who will
never be able to learn the original languages, but for many, and
I have to include myself, the issue is not a lack of ability,
but a lack of effort. The Gospel Standard in 1864 speaks
approvingly of the experience of Henry Fowler. He was the first
and only pastor at Gower Street. He spoke of how at one time in
his life, at the end of his working day, he said, I would devote
two or three hours in trying to learn the Greek language,
in order to be able to read the New Testament in its original
tongue, after which I intended to study the Hebrew also, and
indeed I began it. Giving his reasons, he says,
it struck me that our translators were fallible men, and that our
language had been very much altered since the translation, that by
comparing the different parts of our translation with the original,
some light might be cast upon the word. Nor do I once regret
the attempt I made for I found the benefit of it in several
ways. It brought me more into the habit of close thinking,
it made me more familiar with the scriptures, and many times
I have had some sweet enjoyment in comparing our version with
the Greek. In a footnote, Mr. Philpott said,
we fully agree with Mr. Fowler. Indeed, in our last interview
with him, he said to us, do not lay aside your Greek testament.
Here he showed much more wisdom than some uneducated men, who
would seem almost to consider that the less they know of languages
and so on, the better, and that the smaller share they have of
human knowledge and wisdom, the more they necessarily must have
of divine. He goes on to explain that to learn a language to real
maturity and to a level of expertness is probably beyond most men,
but he says, to ascertain the various senses in which the same
word is used and examine lexicons that may be obtained by most
men who have good abilities and will give two or three hours
study every day to the Greek Testament. Surely this is even
more true today with all the technology and the resources
that we have to help. Again, I am just merely saying,
and many have said it before and it really ought not to be
a controversial statement, all that I am saying is that it is
preferable for the Lord's servants, if they can, to have at least
a basic understanding of the underlying original text. Now
some seem to imagine that to say this is to assert that all
preachers need to have a knowledge of the original languages and
to suggest that anyone who doesn't can't preach. But that is a completely
different and entirely wrong assertion. Mr Philpott, in the Gospel Standard
in 1842, spoke of a sermon that he had heard some years before.
The text was in Thessalonians, the first epistle, chapter 1,
verse 4, knowing, brethren beloved, your election of God. He said
that the preacher explained this as referring to a believer's
personal knowledge of his own election. This was a very great
truth and very ably enforced. But it was a truth no more contained
in that verse of Scripture than in the binding of the Bible which
he held in his hand. For the knowledge there spoken
of was Paul's knowledge of their election, not their own knowledge
of it, as the minister would have known if he had looked into
or understood the Greek original. This little mistake spoiled all
our hearing, as we knew he had not the mind of the Spirit. Even
the coal heaver, William Huntingdon himself, whilst he never apparently
had a knowledge of the original languages, consulted a great
friend of his, William Romaine, when he needed help to understand
a given Hebrew or Greek word. Finally, and perhaps even more
controversially, what about the use of notes? The question was
asked to Mr. Popham in one of the editions
of the Gospel Standard. Someone wrote to him and they
described a situation. They said that a minister came
and he used notes and they weren't really sure what to do about
it. And two of his fellow deacons had said, we ought not to invite
that man again. And this corresponding deacon,
he didn't really know how to react. And so he writes to ask
Mr. Popham for his advice. It's interesting
what Mr. Popham says. After speaking of
the work of study and preparation, he says, as to myself, I have
never used notes, but some of the most honored servants of
Christ have done so. I remember hearing our late friend Mr. Hemmington
say that Mr. Philpott advised him to make
notes when thoughts came to him on a subject he was to preach
upon. Some ministers, some real ministers, have laboriously written
out fully all their sermons, sermons which now enrich our
bookshelves. Others again have made only notes,
which, doubtless, they may have used without offence, if they
were enabled to depend only on the Spirit for all the unction
and usefulness of their ministries. But to put it very simply and
briefly, surely it is quite wrong to make rules in this matter.
The vital thing is for the preacher to know himself and not try to
copy others. Given what we have seen about
the place of preparation, surely it is right for the preacher,
having meditated on his text and, as Mr. Popham put it, stored
his mind with such matter as he may deem necessary and suitable
to his congregation, Surely it is right, having done that, for
that minister to take that matter with him into the pulpit. Of
course, some might say, well, can the man not just trust that
the Spirit will keep him from forgetfulness? Is it not a lack
of faith that leads a man to take notes into the pulpit? But
again, surely faith, if it is real, must be in what the Lord
has promised to do. Is there any promise where the
Lord commits to enable a man to remember all that has been
shown to him in his preparation? Some have good memories and they
can do without notes. Others enter the pulpit with bookmarks,
placed strategically at those places that they want to refer
to. But if a preacher finds it helpful to take notes into the
pulpit, I do not believe scripture condemns him, and neither should
we. Martin Luther obviously was not
a high Calvinist of the 19th century, but I found his thoughts
on preaching so helpful that I want to bring him in as we
come to a close. he recognised that preaching
was hard work. Writing to a discouraged preacher, who complained that
preaching was a burden, his sermons were always short, and he might
better off have stayed in his former profession, he said, if
Peter and Paul were here, they would scold you, because you
wish right off to be as accomplished as they were. Crawling is something,
even if one is unable to walk. Do your best. If you cannot preach
an hour, then preach half an hour, or a quarter of an hour.
Perhaps we ought to say something about the danger of preaching
to the clock. You imagine many places, if you go there and preach
for a quarter of an hour, they would complain. But if you've
got nothing left to say after a quarter of an hour, then the
solution is to stop saying. Martin Luther goes on, do not
try to imitate other people. Centre on the shortest and simplest
points, which are the very heart of the matter, and leave the
rest to God. Look solely to his honour and
not to applause. Pray that God will give you a
mouth and to your audience ears. I can tell you preaching is not
a work of man. Although I am old and experienced, I am afraid
every time I have to preach. You will most certainly find
out three things. Firstly, you will have prepared
your sermon as diligently as you know how, and it will slip
through your fingers like water. Secondly, you may abandon your
outline and God will give you grace. You will preach your very
best. The audience will be pleased, but you won't. And thirdly, when
you have been unable in advance to put anything together, notice
he says unable, not unwilling, when you have been unable in
advance to put anything together, you will preach acceptably both
to your hearers and to yourself. So pray to God and leave all
the rest to him. And then a final quotation. James
Thornwell. He did live in the 19th century.
He was an American theologian and preacher. Not sure that we
would describe him as a high Calvinist. But this is what he
says about preaching. It is a great matter to understand
what it is to be a preacher and how preaching should be done.
Effective sermons are the offspring of study, of discipline, of prayer,
and especially of the action of the Holy Ghost. They are to
combine the characteristic excellences of every other species of composition
intended for delivery, and ought to be pronounced not merely with
the earnestness of faith, but the constraining influence of
heaven-born charity. They should be seen to come from
the heart, and from the heart as filled with the love of Christ
and the love of souls. Depend upon it that there is
but little preaching in the world. and it is a mystery of grace
and of divine power that God's cause is not ruined in the world
when we consider the qualifications of many of its professed ministers
to preach it. My own performances in this way
fill me with disgust. I have never made, much less
preached, a sermon in my life, and I am beginning to despair
of ever being able to do it. May the Lord give you more knowledge
and grace and singleness of purpose. I'm sure all of those who preach
can sympathise with James Thornwell's feeling. Well, we sang in our hymn, didn't
we, that prayer of John Berry, when he said, O Lord, stir up
thy power to make the gospel spread, and thrust out preachers
more with voice to raise the dead, with feet to run where
thou dost call, with faith to fight and conquer all. May that
be the real prayer of each one of us, and may that prayer be
answered. And may those of us who do preach
be given more of a sight of our own responsibility, so that it
might not be a light thing to us, but something that drives
us to our knees more frequently and more fervently before the
Lord. Thank you for your attention. Thank you very much, Peter, for
your anxieties goats and exercise in preparation, I'm sure we feel
was not without profit. Thank you very much. As I said,
there are refreshments. It's an opportunity for us to
mix and I'm sure if you want to discuss matters or raise points
with Peter, you'll be only too willing to answer any questions. Thank you again for your attention
this afternoon. And can I remind you, if you
feel inclined, any donations to the work of the James Ward
Society would be much appreciated. Let us pray. Gracious God, we
do thank thee for the help afforded to thy servant this afternoon. We do pray, Lord, that these
things might continue with us as preachers and hearers alike,
or do grant, Lord, that grace of the Holy Spirit that we might
each be profited by thy work, that we might receive it into
believing hearts. Receive our thanks now, Lord,
for this provision. We thank thee for those who have
kindly provided it for us, and do help us each, Lord, to eat
and drink with a thankful heart, and in all things to give thee
the glory. Hear our prayers and pardon our sins for Christ's
sake. Amen. Okay, thank you.