All posts by tony-reinke

A Vacationers’ View of the Ocean

June 10, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Newton

“I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,” wrote sailor and poet John Masefield. That is my motto. I love the ocean. In fact I am at the beach right now with my family. But I enjoy the sea as a novice, as one who is little more than an enthusiastic spectator from the seashore. Being a Nebraskan by birth and upbringing, my direct experience with the ocean is quite shallow.

John Newton’s knowledge of the ocean was deep. It was the ocean that provided Newton his early livelihood and it was the ocean that nearly took his life. Whether it was giving or trying to take away, the ocean was a central part of his life for several years.

Even more important to Newton was the gospel. Not surprisingly, in Newton’s writings the greatness of our Savior finds metaphorical expression in the far-reaching limits of ocean. I’m sure he would have agreed with Spurgeon’s often quoted statement: “In Christ’s finished work I see an ocean of merit; my plummet finds no bottom, my eye discovers no shore.”* The ocean in many ways is a suitable metaphor.

The gospel is unfathomable, and that of course means there is always a need for us to grow in our knowledge of the Savior. By grace this is possible—by observation this is necessary.

Newton writes,

Some knowledge of Christ indeed they [Christians] have, which is their differencing character from the world. How small a portion! That they know him a little, is plain, because they love him and trust him; but how little, is plain likewise, because their love is so faint, and their trust so feeble.

Newton elaborates on what these weaknesses expose.

Their doubts, fears, complaints, and backslidings, are so many mournful proofs that they are but poorly acquainted with him; and sufficiently evidence, that a great part of what we account our knowledge, is not real and experimental, but notional only.

The literal sense of what we read concerning Jesus, is attainable by study and human teaching; but the spiritual import can be received only from Him who teaches the heart, who increases it in us by the various exercises and dispensations we pass through; and the best have much more to learn than they have already attained.…

The knowledge of Christ, in the present life, may be compared to the knowledge that a shepherd has of the sea, from having viewed it at the top of a cliff. In a sense, it may be said he has seen the sea; but how little has he seen, in comparison of what lies beyond the reach of his eye! How inadequate is such a prospect to give him an idea answerable to the length, and breadth, and depth, of the immense ocean!**

Yes; or compared to a vacationing Nebraskan’s knowledge of the ocean. It is one thing to stand on the pebbled shore and to look out at a few miles of ocean, but another thing altogether to sail over the top of, or to dive down into the heart of, the wine-dark sea.

So it is with our knowledge of Christ in this life. Saving knowledge of Christ is not an exhaustive knowledge. Newton helps us see this point in two ways.

First, the more we learn the more we see how much more we have to learn. And our ignorance of Christ is behind our waverings, our doubts, our fears, our backslidings. Our propensity to sin reveals the shallowness of our knowledge of the Savior. We must press on not just for more learning, but for more of the experiential knowledge of the gospel, the knowledge that changes our attitudes, our thinking, and our behavior.

Second, a complete knowledge of Christ, like the majority of the ocean, remains beyond the reach of the eye. Right now our knowledge of the Savior is partial and fallible; one day our knowledge of Christ will be full and face-to-face (1 Corinthians 13:12).

A vacationer on the shore, a shepherd on the cliff—neither can see the breadth and length and height and depth of the ocean. Nor do we yet fully comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth of God’s love for us shown in the gospel (Ephesians 3:18–19). Like a wide-eyed shepherd looking out from a window seat on a clear day from 40,000 feet over the ocean, one day we will more fully comprehend the dimensions (1 John 3:2).

And we will be stunned.

Tony Reinke serves as the editorial and research assistant to C.J. Mahaney. Reading Newton’s Mail is a series of blog posts reflecting on various published letters written by John Newton (1725–1807), the onetime captain of a slave trading ship—a self-described apostate, blasphemer, and infidel, who was eventually converted by grace. Newton is most famous for authoring the hymn “Amazing Grace,” or maybe for helping William Wilberforce put an end to the African slave trade in Britain. Less legendarily, Newton faithfully pastored two churches for 43 years, a fruitful period of his life when a majority of his letters were written. Reading Newton’s Mail is published on Fridays here on the Cheap Seats blog.

* Charles Spurgeon, sermon: “Bread Enough and to Spare,” in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, vol. 17 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1872), 389.

** John Newton, The Works of the Rev. John Newton, 3rd ed. (London: Hamilton, Adams, & Co., 1820; Carlisle, PA: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1985), 2:417–418.

Ordinary Pastors (series intro)

May 17, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Ordinary Pastors | Pastoral ministry

We tend to overlook the “ordinary” things in life.

We don't watch a keynote speech live online to see the unveiling of a new model of an ordinary mobile phone.

We don't buy expensive stadium tickets to watch ordinary athletes compete.

And ordinary YouTube videos never “go viral.”

The common, the everyday, the routine, the uneventful, the garden-variety...none of it grabs headlines or our attention. We notice the extra-ordinary, and when it comes we will watch, buy, and spread it.

Yet the honest truth is that most pastors do not think of themselves as exceptional. Most pastors are ordinary pastors, and normally they are the first to admit it. These ordinary pastors often face particular struggles and temptations, especially the temptation to compare themselves unfavorably to extraordinarily gifted pastors and preachers.

In this series C.J. addresses some of the common temptations ordinary pastors experience and sets for them a realistic vision for successful pastoral ministry that honors God and faithfully proclaims the Savior.

The ultimate goal of the series is to encourage ordinary pastors, men who are laboring faithfully in their ordinary churches and who seek to honor the extraordinary Savior. In the words of an older mentor to a young pastor, “What is important at the end of the day is the church—ordinary churches trying to live faithfully in a rapidly changing society. Ordinary churches pastored by ordinary people like you and me, knowing that we cannot do everything, but trying to do what we can and seeking God's face for His presence and blessing so that His dear Son might be honored and His people strengthened.”*

May this 12-part series, Ordinary Pastors, play a small role to that end.

Series index:

* D. A. Carson and John D. Woodbridge, Letters Along the Way: A Novel of the Christian Life (Crossway, 1993), 226-227.

The Worst Sinner in the Room

May 13, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Newton

John Newton went to prison in the fall of 1775. It wasn’t exactly a prison, more of a correctional institution for thieves and prostitutes. And he wasn’t sent there by force, he entered the facility voluntarily as a 50-year-old pastor.

The correctional facility in London was known as Westminster Bridewell. The inmates in the facility were subjected to hard labor and, in the spirit of behavior reform, to physical lashings for disobedience. Those floggings (of both men and women) were meted out in public and in full view of the good citizens of London. The social distance between the law-abiding citizens and the law-breaking miscreants was as obvious as the three-story prison walls.

Into Bridewell Newton entered with a Bible and a very personal story of God’s saving grace. He recounted his visit in a letter to a friend:

You would have liked to have been with me last Wednesday. I preached at Westminster Bridewell. It is a prison and house of correction. The bulk of my congregation were housebreakers [burglars], highwaymen [a highway robber on horseback], pickpockets, and poor unhappy women, such as infest the streets of this city, sunk in sin, and lost to shame [prostitutes]. I had a hundred or more of these before me.

I preached from 1 Timothy 1:15 [“This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief” (KJV)]. I began with telling them my own story. This gained their attention more than I expected. I spoke to them near an hour and a half.

I shed many tears myself, and saw some of them shed tears likewise.

Ah! had you seen their present condition, and could you hear the history of some of them, it would make you sing, “O to grace how great a debtor!”

By nature they were no worse than the most sober and modest people; and there was doubtless a time when many of them little thought what they should live to do and suffer. I might have been, like them, in chains, and one of them have come to preach to me, had the Lord so pleased.*

The experience of prison life was striking to Newton. Given his pre-conversion life, it was not difficult for Newton to imagine a reversal of roles—himself wearing the chains, bearing public floggings, and needing another to proclaim to him the good news of the gospel.

By all accounts, the miscreants Newton addressed in the correctional facility were sinners. And they knew it. And the citizens of London knew it. Likely the surprise was in seeing a 50-year-old pastor walk into the prison to candidly share the story of his own sinfully wretched background.

In his visit two important points are clear.

First, Newton believed that the grace of God could reach anyone, no matter how dark or prevailing the sin.

Second, Newton found in 1 Timothy 1:15 a natural transition from his own life of sin to Paul’s claim of being the chief of sinners. Newton could make such a smooth transition because he genuinely believed that he was the worst sinner he knew—even in a room where he found himself encircled by 100 thieves and prostitutes.**

* John Newton, The Works of John Newton (London: 1820), 2:150.

** Newton explicitly refers to himself as the “chief of sinners” at several places in his writings (see for example his Works, 2:246, 5:570, and 6:58). And at one point in a sermon he explains the rationale behind his conviction: “It is probable, that all who are convinced and enlightened by the Holy Spirit, having a clearer knowledge of the nature, number, and aggravation of their own sins, than they can possibly have of those of any other person, account themselves among the chief of sinners, though many of them may have been preserved from gross enormities” (5:173).

C.J. on Jude on Film

May 3, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Sermons | Videos

Three of C.J.’s recent sermons have been added to our online video archive. Here are the details and links:

When Someone Doubts
Jude 22–23
March 20, 2011
Covenant Fellowship Church; Glen Mills, PA

Keep Yourself in the Love of God
Jude 20–25
September 12, 2010
Bethlehem Baptist Church; Minneapolis, MN

God's Preserving Grace: A Magnificent Doxology
Jude 24–25
January 30, 2011
Covenant Fellowship Church; Glen Mills, PA

Spiritual Depression: An Interview with John Newton

April 29, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Newton

John Newton wrote a number of valuable letters on the high marks and the low points of the Christian life. One of those letters was originally to a pastor. But as you will soon see, it has application for every Christian, especially on the topic of spiritual depression (see Psalm 42:1–11).

For this entry in the series I’ve chosen to reformat one letter into an interview. We’ll see how it goes.

Rev. Newton, thanks for your time today. Let’s begin discussing the topic of how spiritual depression affects pastors. You have many years of pastoral experience yourself. Does God preserve pastors from undergoing spiritual valleys? Do pastors get a special divine favor and higher proportion of comforts in life to better serve their local churches?

Give me leave to ask pastors: What would you do if you did not find yourself occasionally poor, insufficient, and stupid?

Are you aware of what might be the possible, the probable, the almost certain consequences, if you always found your spirit enlarged, and your frames lively and comfortable?

Would you not be in great danger of being puffed up with spiritual pride?

Would you not be less sensible of your absolute dependence upon the power of Christ, and of your continual need of his blood, pardon, and intercession?

Would you not be quite at a loss to speak suitably and feelingly to the case of many gracious souls, who are groaning under those effects of a depraved nature, from which, upon that supposition, you would be exempted?

How could you speak properly upon the deceitfulness of the heart, if you did not feel the deceitfulness of your own; or adapt yourself to the changing experiences through which your hearers pass, if you yourself were always alike, or nearly so?

Or how could you speak pertinently of the inward warfare, the contrary principles of flesh and spirit fighting one against another, if your own spiritual desires were always vigorous and successful, and met with little opposition or control?

The angel who appeared to Cornelius did not preach the Gospel to him, but directed him to send for Peter: for though the glory and grace of the Saviour seems a fitter subject for an angel’s powers than for the poor stammering tongues of sinful men, yet an angel could not preach experimentally, nor describe the warfare between grace and sin from his own feelings (Acts 10:1–8).

And if we could suppose a minister as full of comforts and as free from failings as an angel, though he would be a good and happy man, I cannot conceive that he would be a good or useful preacher; for he would not know how to sympathize with the weak and afflicted of the flock, or to comfort them under their difficulties with the consolations wherewith he himself, in similar circumstances, had been comforted of God.

So what’s behind this spiritual depression in the pastor’s experience?

We may extend the subject so as to make it applicable to believers in general.

First, let me say that resting in the recollection of past comforts, without a continual thirst for fresh communications from the Fountain of life, is, I am afraid, the canker which eats away the beauty and fruitfulness of many professors in the present day; and which, if it does not prove them to be absolutely dead, is at least a sufficient evidence that they are lamentably sick.

But on the other hand, if we are conscious of the desire, if we seek it carefully in the use of all appointed means, if we willingly allow in ourselves nothing which grieves the Spirit of God, and to damp our sense of divine things—if the Lord is pleased to keep us short of those comforts which he has taught us to prize, instead of lively sensations of joy and praise we feel a languor and deadness of spirit.

In other words, you say that spiritual depression stems from an appropriate thirst for communion with God. So how do we respond when we feel this languor and deadness of spirit?

Provided we do indeed feel it, and are humbled for it, we have no need to give way to despondency or excessive sorrow.

Still the foundation of our hope, and the ground of our abiding joys, is the same; and the heart may be as really alive to God, and grace as truly in exercise, when we walk in comparative darkness and see little light, as when the frame of our spirits is more comfortable. Neither the reality nor the measure of grace can be properly estimated by the degree of our sensible comforts.

So you seem to say that grace is at work in the Christian’s life whether the experience is bright or dark. That’s an important point. So when the darkness descends, when a Christian walks through a dark valley and the soul is cast down, what should be his posture?

The Apostle exhorts believers to rejoice in the Lord always (Philippians 4:4). He well knew that they were exposed to trials and temptations, and to much trouble from an evil heart of unbelief; and he prevents the objections we might be ready to make, by adding, “And again I say, Rejoice”—as if he had said, I call upon you to rejoice, not at some times only, but at all times.

Not only when upon the mount, but when in the valley.

Not only when you conquer, but while you are fighting.

Not only when the Lord shines upon you, but when he seems to hide his face.

When he enables you to do all things, you are no better in yourselves than you were before; and when you feel you can do nothing, you are no worse. Your experiences will vary, but his love and promises are always unchangeable.

Thus, it makes sense that we can always rejoice. But that takes faith. So what gets in the way of our rejoicing? Why is it so hard to rejoice in the valley?

Sinful principles may, and too often do, mix with and defile our best desires. I have often detected the two vile abominations, self-will and self-righteousness insinuating themselves into this concern. Like Satan, who works by them, they can occasionally assume the appearance of an angel of light.

I have felt impatience in my spirit, utterly unsuitable to my state as a sinner and a beggar, and to my profession of yielding myself and all my concerns to the Lord’s disposal.

He has mercifully convinced me that I labor under a complication of disorders, summed up in the word sin. He has graciously revealed himself to me as the infallible physician. And has enabled me, as such, to commit myself to him, and to expect my cure from his hand alone.

Yet how often, instead of thankfully accepting his prescriptions, have I foolishly and presumptuously ventured to prescribe to him, and to point out how I would have him deal with me! How often have I thought something was necessary which he saw best to deny, and that I could have done better without those dispensations which his wisdom appointed to work for my good!

He is God, and not man, or else he would have been weary of me, and left me to my own management long ago.

It has cost me something to bring me to confess that he is wiser than I; but I trust, through his blessing, I have not suffered wholly in vain.

My sensible comforts have not been great. The proofs I have had of the evils of my sinful nature, my incapacity and aversion to good, have neither been few nor small. But by these unpromising means I hope he has made his grace and salvation precious to my soul, and in some measure weaned me from leaning to my own understanding.

So because we are sinners we will find it especially difficult to rejoice in moments when our personal weakness is exposed. Can you explain further how self-righteousness gets in the way of our joy in God?

Self-righteousness has had a considerable hand in dictating many of my desires for an increase of comfort and spiritual strength. I have wanted some stock of my own. I have been wearied of being so perpetually beholden to him, necessitated to come to him always in the same strain, as a poor miserable sinner. I could have liked to do something for myself, and to depend upon him chiefly upon extraordinary occasions.

I have found indeed, that I could do nothing without his assistance, nor any thing even with it, but what I have reason to be ashamed of. If this had only humbled me, and led me to rejoice in his all-sufficiency, it would have been well. But it has often had a different effect, to make me sullen, angry, and discontented, as if it was not best and most desirable that he should have all the glory of his own work, and I should have nothing to boast of, but that in the Lord I have righteousness and strength.

I am now learning to glory only in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me; to be content to be nothing, that he may be All in All (2 Corinthians 12:7–13).

But I find this a hard lesson; and when I seem to have made some proficiency, a slight turn in my spirit throws me back, and I have to begin all again.

In conclusion, what have you learned that you can share with us from your own experience in the valley?

First: There is an inseparable connection between causes and effects. Indwelling sin is an active cause; and therefore, while it remains in our nature, it will produce effects according to its strength.

So why should I wonder that I can feel no lively exercise of grace, no power to raise my heart to God, any farther than he is pleased to work in me mightily; any more than wonder that I do not find fire in the bottom of a well, or that it should not be day when the sun is withdrawn from the earth?

Second: Humbled I ought to be to find I am so totally depraved—but not discouraged, since Jesus is appointed to me of God, wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption; and since I find that, in the midst of all this darkness and deadness, he keeps alive the principle of grace which he has implanted in my heart.

These are wonderful reminders of God’s sustaining grace. Thank you Rev. Newton. May our valleys remind us of our absolute dependence upon Christ’s power, blood, pardon, and intercession.

And for further insight on these important topics, see C.J.’s practical post: “The Causes, Symptoms, and Treatment of Spiritual Dehydration.”

Tony Reinke serves as the editorial and research assistant to C.J. Mahaney. Reading Newton’s Mail is a series of blog posts reflecting on various published letters written by John Newton (1725–1807), the onetime captain of a slave trading ship—a self-described apostate, blasphemer, and infidel, who was eventually converted by grace. Newton is most famous for authoring the hymn “Amazing Grace,” or maybe for helping William Wilberforce put an end to the African slave trade in Britain. Less legendarily, Newton faithfully pastored two churches for 43 years, a fruitful period of his life when a majority of his letters were written. Reading Newton’s Mail is published on Fridays here on the Cheap Seats blog.

Primary source: The Works of John Newton (London: 1820), 1:253–261.

The Pastor and Personal Criticism (ebook)

April 28, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Correction/criticism | Free ebook

Spanning a little over two months on the blog, C.J.’s eleven-part series on the pastor and personal criticism has come to an end. Via email many of you requested that the series be provided as a single document to make it easier to print and read. And today we are making this entire series available as a 25-page PDF, which you can download here (0.2 MB):

For anyone interested in reading the series online, I’ve included a final index of the original posts (see below).

Thanks for reading!

The Pastor and Personal Criticism

What No Sacred River, Speedboat, or Platinum Credit Card Can Offer

April 27, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Book reviews | Contentment

The following excerpt is taken from Stephen Altrogge's new book, The Greener Grass Conspiracy: Finding Contentment on Your Side of the Fence (Crossway, 2011), pages 65–66:

In the gospel we have full, free, open access to God. This isn’t “come once a year, kill a lamb, and hope you don’t die” access to God. We don’t need to whip ourselves into a twirling religious frenzy or to light sticks of incense. There’s no need to walk ten miles with broken glass in our shoes or wash ourselves clean in a sacred river. We can come into the presence of God at all times and at all places.

This is the greatest benefit of the gospel. Forgiveness of sins, a new heart, and eternal life are only a means to this magnificent end. Jesus Christ ushers us into the presence of God, and it’s in the presence of God that we find our soul’s deepest satisfaction. Psalm 16:11 says, “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

A speedboat, job promotion, or beautiful, loving spouse who likes long walks on the beach can’t bring fullness of joy. Eternal pleasures can’t be purchased with a platinum credit card. Full, overflowing, eternal joy and pleasure are found only in the presence of God, and in the gospel we have access to his joyful presence....

If we’re not consistently spending time in the presence of God, we won’t be content.

Period.

Nicely said.

For more background on The Greener Grass Conspiracy, watch the trailer here:

What’s the Last Thing You’ve Done to Surprise Your Wife?

April 26, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Marriage

Knowing how high a priority C.J. places on surprising his wife Carolyn, Southern Seminary’s interviewer asked him this question in an interview published in the new issue of the Seminary’s magazine, Towers (April 11, 2011; page 16).

Before answering the question with specific examples, C.J. set the context:

Let me say that I have a wife whom I don’t deserve. No one has influenced me more than she has. There’s no one I respect more than her. There’s no one I love more than her. I am devoted to building as many romantic memories with her and spending as much time with her as possible. And I want Carolyn to live aware that I am always planning or working on a new surprise as an expression of my love for her.

Then he talked specifics:

The most recent surprise was a trip to sunny and warm Florida in the midst of a very cold winter at home.

Normally trips will be planned well in advance to coordinate schedules. By planning in advance you can build anticipation and in some ways something planned in the future has a way of serving your soul in the present. But the trip to Florida didn’t receive a great deal of planning and this spontaneous trip was great fun. And the largest snowstorm of the year hit the D.C. area while we were in Florida so that made it even sweeter.

Before that, in December, I surprised her with an overnight trip to the W Hotel in downtown D.C. At any given time, there are actual multiple surprises in the planning stage ranging from the small expressions to more significant ones. Surprises don’t have to be expensive to be meaningful. Something as simple as bringing home her favorite candy at the end of the day is another way to say, “I love you.”

Why all the surprises? If you met her, you’d understand why. I have been the object of her affection and support for 36 years now. I want to do all that I can to communicate my gratefulness. I don’t deserve my wife.

As C.J. writes elsewhere, meaningful surprises are normally the result of thoughtful and diligent study and planning by the husband. But many husbands are thickheaded and don't study their wives or plan surprises very well. So where can we start?

To find specific help and suggestions on how to study your wife and her particular interests (with the goal of eventually surprising her), C.J. has written a few resources that may prove helpful for husbands. First, see his free ebook Biblical Productivity where he further explains how his role as husband motivates him to study, serve, and surprise Carolyn. And also consider reading "Learning, Leading, and Loving," chapter three in his book Sex, Romance, and the Glory of God: What Every Christian Husband Needs to Know (Crossway, 2004). "As a romancer of my wife, I know that my essential role is that of a student and a planner," he writes (32). Behind the meaningful surprises for a wife is this intentional study and careful planning of a thoughtful husband.

A Crucifixion Narrative

April 22, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Cross of Christ

On Good Friday, Rick Gamache (senior pastor of Sovereign Grace Fellowship, Bloomington, MN) gathers with his church to read a short account he simply titled "A Crucifixion Narrative." For 23 minutes he retraces the biblical events of Thursday and Friday that culminate in the death of the Savior.

The narrative opens with the weight of the crossbeam weighing on the shoulders of the Savior, then rewinds to previous events leading up to this point: the betrayal of Judas, Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, the tears of blood that reveal the Savior’s physical and emotional distress. But as we know, this is only the beginning of the physical pain. Soon Jesus is tried and mocked, slapped, spit at, whipped, outfitted with a crown of thorns, and eventually laid on the ground where cold spikes are driven into his wrists and feet. The repugnant scene is informed by the biblical storyline and by research on the physical suffering of Roman crucifixion.

As the Savior is lifted up on the cross the physical pain becomes even more excruciating—but it’s not the greatest pain.

Near the end, the narrative takes a sharp and dramatic turn. There the focus shifts from the visible, physical pain to the invisible spiritual suffering Jesus bore on the cross. There in the crucifixion we see the Son, hanging guilty before God for the vilest of sins—our sins, all of them (2 Corinthians 5:21). There we face the scope of our personal sins, and there we see the hellish agony the Savior endured for us.

Gamache’s narrative is available online. You can download the audio recording here and read the PDF here.

Newton’s Theology of Revolution

April 1, 2011 by Tony Reinke Categories: Newton

Revolution is spreading across the Middle East. What was ignited in Tunisia spread to Egypt and jumped into Libya. It is hard to tell where the flame of revolution will spread next.

Something of this modern experience must reflect the political and social unrest that marked the period of America’s Revolutionary War. By January 1775 a war between Britain and the American colonies was foreseeable. At this point Britain had responded to the Boston Tea Party by further hiking taxes in 1774, and in two months Patrick Henry would deliver his “Give me liberty or give me death” speech. One month after the speech the American colonists and the British would clash at Lexington and Concord.

So was the turmoil just about taxation without representation, or was there something larger behind the revolution?

In a letter to his friend Lord Dartmouth dated January 20, 1775, Newton offers a deeper and more theological explanation for the coming war when he writes,

When historians and politicians descant upon the rise and fall of empires, with all their professed sagacity, in tracing the connection between causes and effects, they are totally unacquainted with the great master-wheel which manages the whole movement; that is, the Lord’s design in favor of his church and kingdom. To this every event is subordinate; to this every interfering interest must stoop.

A little later he writes:

And I doubt not but some who are yet unborn will hereafter clearly see and remark, that the present unhappy disputes between Great Britain and America, with their consequences, whatever they may be, are part of a series of events, of which the extension and interests of the church of Christ were the principal final causes. In a word, that Jesus may be known, trusted, and adored, and sinners, by the power of his Gospel, be rescued from sin and Satan, is the one great business, for the sake of which the succession of day and night, summer and winter, is still maintained; and when the plan of redemption is consummated, sin, which now almost fills the earth, will then set it on fire.

In other words, God’s plan for human history (namely the spread of the gospel) will be consummated when Christ returns and this present creation is dissolved in a roar and made gloriously new. Until then, God continues working, committed to his purpose of building his church and spreading the gospel throughout the world.

Now, does this mean that members of the visible church on earth cannot be harmed in revolution? No.

Does this mean there are no sins on display in warfare? No. In fact Newton would write that war is the result of national sin and personal selfish ambition.

Does this mean that the church should seek to advance and grow through politics? Not according to Newton. He strongly urged Christians not to become heavily involved in politics except on the rare occasion that such a Christian was in a position of influence (William Wilberforce being a prime example).

Yet behind the revolution in his own time, Newton saw God’s work. He would likely agree with a modern theologian who writes, “Even now Christ reigns secretly and invisibly over all empires and nations for the ultimate purpose of building his church” (see Ephesians 1:15-23).* Newton was quick to remember this when the fire of revolution was ignited in the Revolutionary War.

Newton viewed revolutions from a God-centered perspective, and this was no less true of the colonial revolution. He believed that God was “the great master-wheel” behind the revolution, and that his ultimate design was the growth of his church.

In the current unrest, many important questions remain. It’s hard to identify all the causes and effects working behind the turmoil in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and elsewhere. And what will be the final result? Will political radicals gain the upper hand in these countries? Will the Middle East become less stable? Will these countries become more stable? These important questions are hard to answer.

Yet it’s worth asking the big question that Newton raises in his own letters: Is it possible that in all of this turmoil, God is the invisible master-wheel behind the revolution, at work in the turmoil for his one, ultimate, driving goal—that Jesus Christ may be known, trusted, and adored?

Some reports indicate that this great business may already be happening. In any case it is a point worthy of our consideration, and a goal that is certainly worthy of our prayers as we watch history unfold.

Primary sources: The Works of John Newton (London: 1820), 1:501–505. Secondary source: *Michael Horton, The Christian Faith: A Systematic Theology for Pilgrims On the Way (Zondervan, 2011), 526.

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