“Having experienced – and generally appreciated – worship across the whole evangelical spectrum, from Charismatic to Reformed – I am myself less concerned here with the form of worship than I am with its content. Thus, I would like to make just one observation: the psalms, the Bible’s own hymnbook, have almost entirely dropped from view in the contemporary Western evangelical scene. I am not certain about why this should be, but I have an instinctive feel that it has more than a little to do with the fact that a high proportion of the psalter is taken up with lamentation, with feeling sad, unhappy, tormented, and broken.
In modern Western culture, these are simply not emotions which have much credibility: sure, people still feel these things, but to admit that they are a normal part of one’s everyday life is tantamount to admitting that one has failed in today’s health, wealth, and happiness society. And, of course, if one does admit to them, one must neither accept them nor take any personal responsibility for them: one must blame one’s parents, sue one’s employer, pop a pill, or check into a clinic in order to have such dysfunctional emotions soothed and one’s self-image restored.
Now, one would not expect the world to have much time for the weakness of the psalmists’ cries. It is very disturbing, however, when these cries of lamentation disappear from the language and worship of the church. Perhaps the Western church feels no need to lament – but then it is sadly deluded about how healthy it really is in terms of numbers, influence and spiritual maturity. Perhaps – and this is more likely – it has drunk so deeply at the well of modern Western materialism that it simply does not know what to do with such cries and regards them as little short of embarrassing. Yet the human condition is a poor one – and Christians who are aware of the deceitfulness of the human heart and are looking for a better country should know this.
A diet of unremittingly jolly choruses and hymns inevitably creates an unrealistic horizon of expectation which sees the normative Christian life as one long triumphalist street party – a theologically incorrect and a pastorally disastrous scenario in a world of broken individuals. Has an unconscious belief that Christianity is – or at least should be – all about health, wealth, and happiness silently corrupted the content of our worship? Few Christians in areas where the church has been strongest over recent decades – China, Africa, Eastern Europe – would regard uninterrupted emotional highs as normal Christian experience.
Indeed, the biblical portraits of believers give no room to such a notion. Look at Abraham, Joseph, David, Jeremiah, and the detailed account of the psalmists’ experiences. Much agony, much lamentation, occasional despair – and joy, when it manifests itself – is very different from the frothy triumphalism that has infected so much of our modern Western Christianity. In the psalms, God has given the church a language which allows it to express even the deepest agonies of the human soul in the context of worship. Does our contemporary language of worship reflect the horizon of expectation regarding the believer’s experience which the psalter proposes as normative? If not, why not? Is it because the comfortable values of Western middle-class consumerism have silently infiltrated the church and made us consider such cries irrelevant, embarrassing, and signs of abject failure?
I did once suggest at a church meeting that the psalms should take a higher priority in evangelical worship than they generally do – and was told in no uncertain terms by one indignant person that such a view betrayed a heart that had no interest in evangelism. On the contrary, I believe it is the exclusion of the experiences and expectations of the psalmists from our worship – and thus from our horizons of expectation – which has in a large part crippled the evangelistic efforts of the church in the West and turned us all into spiritual pixies.
By excluding the cries of loneliness, dispossession, and desolation from its worship, the church has effectively silenced and excluded the voices of those who are themselves lonely, dispossessed, and desolate, both inside and outside the church. By so doing, it has implicitly endorsed the banal aspirations of consumerism, generated an insipid, trivial and unrealistically triumphalist Christianity, and confirmed its impeccable credentials as a club for the complacent. In the last year, I have asked three very different evangelical audiences what miserable Christians can sing in church. On each occasion my question has elicited uproarious laughter, as if the idea of a broken-hearted, lonely, or despairing Christian was so absurd as to be comical – and yet I posed the question in all seriousness. Is it any wonder that British evangelicalism, from the Reformed to the Charismatic, is almost entirely a comfortable, middle-class phenomenon?”
-Carl R. Trueman, from “What Can Miserable Christians Sing?” in The Wages of Spin: Critical Writings on Historical and Contemporary Evangelicalism (Christian Focus: 2004) pp. 158-160.
Mark Dever writes about the sin of infant baptism.
I know a secret about the Pastor. Only a few other people know. Lurking in his downstairs closet is a collection of Stryper records. That’s right, Stryper, the Christian 80’s hair-metal band. In his defense, the Pastor doesn’t even own a turntable anymore (his old one is in our front room), and if he did, he probably wouldn’t be caught dead air-guitaring around the living room to Shout At The Devil these days. But there they are, a testament to a time when bee-striped spandex body-suits seemed totally and unironically awesome.
From Benjamin Keach, Gold Refin\’d, or, Baptism in its Primitive Purity (London: 1689), 169.
Listen here: John MacArthur on Sermon Application
Lot just didn’t take Abraham all that seriously. Sure, he went with him when he migrated from Ur, what else would he do? After all, Uncle Abram was his de facto father since Lot’s father Haran had died. Lot heard about this God who had spoken to Abram and promised him a seed and land. He knew Abram was committed to worship this God at His altars of sacrifice. He had even witnessed God’s deliverance of Abram from Egypt when Abram lied about Sarai, his wife. Certainly Pharaoh took Abram seriously when he discovered that Sarai, his new addition to his harem, was Abram’s wife and the Lord struck his house with great plagues. As significant as all that was, the thing that impressed Lot was the wealth that Abram amassed, wealth that spilled over into Lot’s possession.
Layoff allegations reveal Calvinism tensions at Baptist seminary.
“The New Calvinism” ranked third in a Time Magazine listing of 10 ideals changing the world right now.
The Reformed Baptist Theological Review (RBTR) is committed to upholding the Confessional standards of Reformed Baptists who are committed to the Second London Confession of Faith (2nd LCF) (1677/1689). RBTR is committed to providing Reformed Baptist pastors, ministerial students, theological educators, and other interested parties with reading material which is edifying, challenging, and rooted in the biblical theology embodied in the 2nd LCF. – $14.95
My journey into individuality began as the snow gently fell one evening in the winter of 1973. I stood in a cone of light beneath a sidewalk lamp outside my college library, eagerly opening the book I had just checked out. My philosophy professor’s description of Soren Kierkegaard’s quest for authentic individuality resonated profoundly in me. Kierkegaard was a social misfit in his Christianized culture. I was not assimilating into the fundamentalist subculture of my college. The disconnect was complex. I had honest theological and ethical questions that, when asked, elicited a threatened, terse, dismissive response. I was also inhaling the noxious gas of the ’60’s zeitgeist which flattered my youthful pride and incited my romance with rebellion. The darkness of the evening served to highlight the page illuminated beneath the lamppost, as floating flakes of snow drifted about in my peripheral vision. I opened the book to the author’s dedication page. Kierkegaard’s first words electrified me, confirming and inviting: “to that individual.” And so began my journey into existential subjectivity guided by “the melancholic Dane” that culminated five years later with a master’s thesis on Kierkegaard.