Biblical Wisdom in a Modern Proverb

The familiar proverb to "mind your own business" appears to be biblical. The apostle Paul told the Thessalonians: "mind your own affairs" (1 Thess. 4:11). Similarly, Peter tells us that meddlers bear the name Christian rather poorly (1 Pet. 4:15). And Solomon cautions us that it's a bad idea to "take a passing dog by the ears"—or, which is the same thing, to "meddle in a quarrel not your own" (Prov. 26:17).

The High Road to Morbidity

Lloyd-Jones:

Avoid the mistake of concentrating overmuch upon your feelings. Above all, avoid the terrible error of making them central. . . . Do not spend too much time feeling your own pulse, taking your own spiritual temperature, do not spend to much time analysing your feelings. That is the high road to morbidity. 

—D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression (Hannibal: Granted Ministries), 114–115.

Bad Feelings, Unconfessed Sin, and Getting Rid of It

Lloyd-Jones:

How are we to deal with this problem of feelings? I shall put forward a number of suggestions. The first is a very practical one—it is just this. If you are at all depressed at this moment you should make certain that there is no obvious cause for the absence of joyous feelings. For instance, if you are guilty of sin, you are going to be miserable. "The way of the transgressor is hard." If you break God's laws and violate his rules you will not be happy. If you think that you can be a Christian and exert your own will and follow your own likes and dislikes, your Christian life is going to be a miserable one. There is no need to argue about it, it follows as the night the day, that if you are harbouring some favourite sin, if you are holding on to something that the Holy Spirit is condemning through your conscience, you will not be happy. And there is only one thing to do, confess it, acknowledge it, repent, go to God at once and confess your sin, open your heart, bare your soul, tell him all about it, hold nothing back and then believe that because you have done so, he forgives you. "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." If unconfessed sin is the cause of your unhappiness I should be wasting my time and yours by going on with my list of other causes. How many are trapped at this point. Let us be perfectly clear about it; let your conscience speak to you; listen to the voice of God as he speaks through the Spirit that is within you, and if he is placing his finger upon something, get rid of it.

 —D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression (Hannibal: Granted Ministries), 114.

Constancy

                       Who is the honest man?
He that doth still and strongly good pursue,
To God, his neighbor, and himself most true:
           Whom neither force nor fawning can
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due.

                        Whose honesty is not
So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind
Can blow away, or glittering look it blind:
            Who rides his sure and even trot,
While the world now rides by, now lags behind.

                         Who, when great trials come,
Nor seeks, nor shuns them; but doth calmly stay,
Till he the thing and the example weigh:
           All being brought into a sum,
What place or person calls for, he doth pay.

                         Whom none can work or woo
To use in anything a trick or sleight;
For above all things he abhors deceit:
           His words and works and fashion too
All of a piece, and all are clear and straight.

                        Who never melts or thaws
At close tentations: when the day is done,
His goodness sets not, but in dark can run:
             The sun to others writeth laws, 
And is their virtue; Virtue is his Sun.

                       Who, when he is to treat
With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway,
Allows for that, and keeps his constant way:
             Whom others' faults do not defeat;
But though men fail him, yet his part doth play.

                       Who nothing can procure,
When the wide world runs bias from his will,
To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend the ill.
             This is the Mark-man, safe and sure,
Who still is right, and prays to be so still.

—George Herbert, The Complete English Poems (New York: Penguin, 1991), 66.

What Revival Looks Like

Lloyd-Jones:

Read the story of any revival that has ever taken place and you will find that the beginning of it is always the same. One man, or sometimes a number of people, suddenly become alive to the true Christian life, and others begin to pay attention to them. The world outside is stirred and begins to pay attention. Revival always begins in the Church, and the world outside seeing it, begins to pay attention. 

—D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression (Hannibal: Granted Ministries), 108.

Women Will Be Saved Through Childbearing?

So what's going on in 1 Tim. 2:15? Women "will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control"? Really? Is childbearing being viewed as a means of salvation for women, either their own childbearing somehow, or Mary's bearing of the incarnate Son of God? Or should we understand this another way?

Perhaps at times we've made understanding this text more difficult than it need be. I don't think this text is speaking of childbearing as the means of a woman's salvation at all. I think there's a simpler explanation. So I offer my simple exposition. And, as you'll see, I'm taking "through," not as means, but in a local or spatial or experiential sense. As in, for example, I walked through the snow today to get to the mailbox. The snow wasn't the means by which I got to the mailbox, but I did go through it (in time and space, in experience) to get to the mailbox.

Now, in the immediately preceeding context, Paul has called upon Adam and Eve (1 Tim. 2:13-14) to support his point in v. 12. And by mentioning the woman's being deceived and becoming a transgressor, the fall comes into view. Then comes v. 15, the text that's thought to be difficult. But mention of childbearing out to be understood in the context of the fall, for that's what vv. 13–14 call for. And childbearing in Genesis 3, post-fall, comes with a curse, the curse of pain (Gen. 3:16). Undoubtedly there's thus an allusion to the curse of Genesis 3 in the mentioning of childbearing.

So a woman, as a woman (recall men and women are being distinguished here, and Eve is being pointed out as the one who was deceived first), is reminded of the curse with every child born, either her own, or another's. Yet here in 1 Tim. 2:15, Paul asserts that despite the curse of pain in childbearing (she's passing "through" childbearing)—which pain doesn't go away with her conversion to Christ!—she will be saved, upon the condition that she continues to believe and persists in a life of holiness and love in self-control. That is to say, she will be saved if she contiues to trust Christ in the path of obedience, or with an obedient faith, or a faith that works, even as she continues to experience the pain of Eve's fall into sin—as she passes "through" childbearing.

More on the Nature of True Virtue

Jonathan Edwards:

A truly virtuous mind, being as it were under the sovereign dominion of love to God, does above all things seek the glory of God, and makes this his supreme, governing, and ultimate end: consisting in the expression of God's perfections in their proper effects, and in the manifestation of God's glory to created understandings, and the communications of the infinite fullness of God to the creature; in the creature's highest esteem of God, love to God, and joy in God, and in the proper exercises and expressions of these. And so far as a virtuous mind exercises true virtue in benevolence to created beings, it chiefly seeks the good of the creature, consisting in its knowledge or view of God's glory and beauty, its union with God, and conformity to him, love to him, and joy in him. And that temper or disposition of heart, that consent, union, or propensity of mind to Being in general, which appears chiefly in such exercises, is virtue, truly so called: or in other words, true grace and real holiness.

—Jonathan Edwards, Ethical Writings (vol. 8 in the Works of Jonathan Edwards; ed. Paul Ramsey; New Haven: Yale University, 1989), 557–558.

The Nature of True Virtue

Jonathan Edwards:

"It is sufficient to render love to any created being virtuous, if it arise from the temper of mind wherein consists a disposition to love God supremely."

Stated more fully, philosophically, and theologically by Edwards:

The most proper evidence of love to a created being, its arising from that temper of mind wherein consists a supreme propensity of heart to God, seems to be the agreeablenss of the kind and degree of our love to God's end in our creation and in the creation of all things, and the coincidence of the exercises of our love, in their manner, order, and measure, with the manner in which God himself exercises love to the creature in the creation and government of the world, and the way in which God as the first cause and supreme disposer of all things, has respect to the creature's happiness, in subordination to himself as his own supreme end. 

In a footnote to this prolix sentence, Paul Ramsey condenses and highlights well what Edwards is asserting:

The sentence above takes the measure of truly virtuous love of fellow creatures to be its "coincidence"—its perfect alignment in manner, order, or degree—with "the manner in which God himself exercises love to the creature . . . in subordination to himself as his own supreme end."

Only one small quible with Ramsey's restatement of what Edwards is saying. Edwards does not mean by "coincidence" that the alignment in view must be "perfect," as Ramsey puts it. But he does mean this: where there is greater agreement in that alignment between the creature's love for a creature and God's God-centured love for a creature, the more virtuous an action truly is.

—Jonathan Edwards, Ethical Writings (vol. 8 in the Works of Jonathan Edwards; ed. Paul Ramsey; New Haven: Yale University, 1989), 557–558.

How to Get Rid of Self

Lloyd-Jones:

There is only one way to get rid of self, and that is that you should become so absorbed in someone or something else that you have no time to think about yourself. . . . And as you become absorbed in the love of God you will forget all about yourself. "The spirit of love!" [2 Tim. 1:7] It will deliver you from self-interest, self-concern, and from depression about self, because depression results from self and self-concern. It gets rid of self at all points. So talk to yourself about this eternal, amazing love of God—the God who ever looked upon us in spite of sin and planned the way of redemption and spared not his own Son but delivered him up for us all.

What then? Go on to think of the love of the Son in its breadth, its length, its depth, its height; go on to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge. Think of him who came from the courts of heaven and laid aside the insignia of his eternal glory and was born as a babe, worked as a carpenter and endured the contradiction of sinners against himself. Think of him into whose holy face men spat and on whose brow they pressed a crown of thorns and into whose hands and feet the nails were hammered. There he is on the cross. What is he doing there? There he died for us, that you and I might be forgiven and reconciled to God. Think of his love, and as you come to know something about it, you will forget yourself.  

And then, love to the brethren. Think of other people, their needs, their concerns. Shall I go on? . . . Think of other people, look at those people perishing in their sins. Forget yourself. Cultivate love for the lost and love for the brethren in the same way, and love for the greatest and noblest cause in the world, this blessed, glorious gospel. . . . If you are consumed by this spirit of love you will forget yourself.

—D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression (Hannibal: Granted Ministries), 103.

You Must Live with Your Self as Long as You Live

 Lloyd-Jones:

There is no profounder change in the universe than the change which is described as regeneration; but regeneration—the work of God in the soul by which he implants a principle of divine and spiritual life within us—does not change a man's temperament. Your temperament still remains the same. The fact that you have become a Christian does not mean that you cease to have to live with yourself. You will have to live with yourself as long as you are alive, and yourself is your self and not somebody else's self.

—D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression (Hannibal: Granted Ministries), 95.

The Message of 2 Timothy: Guard the Gospel!

John Stott’s summary (slightly modified) of the message of 2 Timothy:

Chapter 1: Paul Charges Timothy to Guard the Gospel.

Chapter 2: Paul Charges Timothy to Suffer for the Gospel.

Chapter 3: Paul Charges Timothy to Continue in the Gospel.

Chapter 4: Paul Charges Timothy to Proclaim the Gospel.

—John R. W. Stott, The Message of 2 Timothy (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1973), 21. 

Matthew's "Peculiar" Use of Jer. 31:15

That Matthew's use of the OT is somewhat (what shall we call it?), well, peculiar is fairly common knowledge. But what he does with Scripture is fascinating and worthy of careful study, not least because it can correct a hermeneutical methodology mired in modern assumptions and patterns foreign to Scripture.

In our regular Bible reading, my wife and I just moved through Matthew 2. And so we encountered a number of these instances of "peculiar" uses of the OT. But as we thought about what Matthew seemed to be doing, the usages didn't seem all that strange after all, at least if we're willing to set aside some of our common hermeneutical assumptions, like the assumption that a quotation of Scripture must mean that the author is thinking in terms of direct verbal predictive fulfillment. But the majority of the NT uses of the OT just don't work that way. And Matthew generally, even predominantly, doesn't use texts that way.

For instance, Matthew cites Jer. 31:15 in Matt. 2:18. What's he up to? Among other things, it seems like this is one of those instances where Matthew wishes to portray the Jews as still in exile, still in a Babylonian captivity of sorts. After all, they are under Roman rule. And here is Herod wreaking havoc and spreading oppression. As Jeremiah speaks to a people in exile under foreign domination, so also apparently does Matthew. It's perhaps subtle, but arguably there. Just as Israel's mothers, personified as Rachel, wept for their children in the sixth century B.C. under the Babylonian oppression and struggle, so also in the first century the mothers of Israel wept for their children under Herod's barbarity and cruelty.

It seems that Matthew's previous use of Hos. 11:1 in Matt. 2:15 lends support to this contention that Israel is being viewed by Matthew as still in exile and in need of a new exodus—which, of course, will come about through the resurrection of the Son of God, the true Israel.

Pauline Praying in the Thessalonian Correspondence

1 Thess. 1:1: Grace to you and peace.

1 Thess. 1:2–3: We give thanks to God always for all of you, constantly mentioning you in our prayers, remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Thess. 3:11–13: Now may our God and Father himself, and our Lord Jesus, direct our way to you, and may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, as we do for you, so that he may establish your hearts blameless in holiness before our God and Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.

1 Thess. 5:23–24: Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirt and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it. 

1 Thess. 5:28: The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. 

2 Thess. 1:2: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

2 Thess. 1:3: We ought always to give thanks to God for you, brothers, as is right, because your faith is growing abundantly, and the love of every one of you for one another is increasing.

2 Thess. 1:11–12: To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ. 

2 Thess. 2:16–17: Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word.

2 Thess. 3:5: May the Lord direct your hearts into the love of God and into the steadfastness of Christ.

2 Thess. 3:16: Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all. 

2 Thess. 3:18: The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. 

The Decline of Heroes and Our Identity Crisis

David Wells has said that "the decline of heroes and heroines who embody noble virtues and their replacement by celebrities, not to mention antiheroes, is an important ingredient in our difficulties with identity" (Losing Our Virtue, 132).

If this is so, how then shall we live? What might our response be? Well, we probably ought to be on the lookout for heroes. We should look for people who have finished well, read about their lives, and seek to emulate in our own lives what is worthy of imitation from theirs.

It's high time, therefore, to start reading more biographies and history. Tolle lege!

Spotting Discontentment

What are the marks of Christian contentment? Expounding Phil. 4:11, Thomas Watson says this of contentment: "The doctrine of contentment is very superlative, and till we have learned this, we have not learned to be Christians."[1]

If he is right in this regard, it obviously behooves us who profess to know Christ to be able to discern contentment. So what does it look like? One good way to help us spot contentment is to spot the marks of discontentment. 

The following three marks of what is excluded by Christian contentment are suggested and shaped by Watson,[2] followed by some scriptural citations for how to battle each particular manifestation of discontentment:

First, Christian contentment excludes a frustrated fretting at our circumstances. So Scripture exhorts us to "rejoice always" (1 Thess. 5:16); to "give thanks in all circumstances" (1 Thess. 5:18); and to say with the apostle, "I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:13).

Second, Christian contentment excludes an uneven disorientation of the mind amid the hot and bother of twenty-first century life. So Scripture encourages us to "set [our] minds on things above, not on the things on the earth" (Col. 3:2); and to think about "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable," whatever is "excellent," whatever is "worthy of praise" (Phil. 4:8).

Third, Christian contentment excludes an immature hopelessness in the face of personal and corporate failures, shortcomings, and challenges. So Scripture exhorts us to "hope in God" (Ps. 42:5), to "rejoice in hope of the glory of God" (Rom. 5:2), and to "set [our] hope fully on the grace to be brought to [us] at the revelation of Jesus Christ" (1 Pet. 1:13).

---

[1] Thomas Watson, The Art of Divine Contentment (Waxkeep Publishing, 2012), chapter 4, Kindle edition. 

[2] Watson, Ibid., chapter 6.

God Saves Sinners

Packer on the Calvinistic salvation of Scripture:

God saves sinners. God—the Triune Jehovah, Father, Son and Spirit; three Persons working together in sovereign wisdom, power and love to achieve the salvation of a chosen people, the Father electing, the Son fulfilling the Father's will by redeeming, the Spirit executing the purpose of the Father and Son by renewing. Saves—does everything, first to last, that is involved in bringing man from death in sin to life in glory: plans, achieves, and communicates redemption, calls and keeps, justifies, sanctifies, glorifies. Sinners—men as God finds them, guilty, vile, helpless, powerless, blind, unable to lift a finger to do God's will or better their spiritual lot. God saves sinners—and the force of this confession may not be weakened by disrupting the unity of the work of the Trinity, or by dividing the achievement of salvation between God and man and making the decisive part man's own, or by soft-pedalling the sinner's inability so as to allow him to share the praise of his salvation with his Saviour. This is the one point of Calvinistic soteriology which the 'five points' are concerned to establish and Arminianism in all its forms to deny: namely, that sinners do not save themselves in any sense at all, but that salvation, first to last, whole and entire, past, present and future, is of the Lord, to whom be glory for ever; amen!

—J. I. Packer, A Quest for Godliness: The Puritan Vision of the Christian Life (Wheaton: Crossway, 1990), 130.

"Conservative" Evangelicalism's Faith Healers

Non-charismatics have their faith healers too, you know. That is, "conservative" Evangelicalism looks to faith doctors as well for what ails her to defeat her demons. And they are—not for all Evangelicals (don't misunderstand), but for many (we must admit)—the psychotherapists. That's right: the professional counselor. At least this is so in my quarters. And it is there where "the moral has died," and the empty secular self reigns supreme.

David Wells writes of this shocking development. He speaks of what happened when psychotherapy "drifted away from its original context in medicine . . . where Freud had placed it. . . ." Here's what happened:

Ironically, the profession began to look like a substitute religion, with its "priests," dogmas, rituals, orthodoxies, and heresies; what it offered sometimes looked like spirituality built on secular assumptions. And soon, rank amateurs were offering their own therapies and treating themselves. 

Psychotherapy is both peculiarly adapted to the late twentieth century and a telling representation of it, psychologist Lucy Bregman has argued. It has arisen out of the sense of emptiness and meaninglessness that many modern people experience, and it could not have survived in a traditional society. It belongs amidst the complex, pressure-filled modern world, with its dense cities and technological conquests. It is an expression of that world with all of its human cost, the personal dilemmas it forces, the hollowing out of life that it effects, and its narcissism. It is at once both the proffered cure for and the symbol of the troubled, empty self. And, most importantly, it is a secular spirituality. In substantiating this point, Bregman says that even though its metaphysical framework is often obscured, psychotherapy nevertheless has such a framework. It is a means to "revision" the self; it has become a technique for "self transformation." It is, in Bregman's words, "a new framework for the ordering of interiority, for interpreting life's meanings and each person's place in the cosmos." It is, however, a metaphysic in which the moral has died.

And in the book Wells argues strongly (with tears, one senses) that herd-Evangelicalism has embraced this substitute religion in droves. The professional counselor, even of the "Christian" variety, who has embraced secular assumptions and this "substitute religion," routinely is held in high esteem by what I'm calling the herd-Evangelical.

—David F. Wells, Losing Our Virtue: Why the Church Must Recover Its Moral Vision (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 110–111.

Tolle Lege!

President Albert Mohler on reading books systematically with a plan and purpose.

When Mohler speaks of such matters, it's usually quite profitable to listen!

The Sweet Fear of the Lord Born of Love

The fear of God is rare nowadays. Teaching on it is scarce. And the living of it out is even more scarce. And, even where it is taught and where some try to live it out, perhaps it's often misunderstood.

The fear of God, whatever many might say of it, really does include the fear of God, and not just some sort of reverance or respect. There's a knee-knocking component to a true fear of the Lord. And given that it is the beginning of wisdom, and given that apart from it we cannot suppose ourselves to be participating in the faith once for all delivered to the saints, it behooves us to cultivate the fear of the Lord in our lives.

In order to cultivate the fear of God, one could do much worse than Buynan's Treatise on the Fear of God, from which I recently posted some instruction about where the fear of the Lord comes from. Today I want to focus on an important aspect of the fear of the Lord, with the help of Bunyan again, which I think some who focus on the fear of the Lord miss, but which is utterly essential for the fear to be healthy and biblical. And it is how the goodness, kindness, and love of God produce and shape that fear. Consider two points Bunyan makes in his treatise.

First, Bunyan says that this fear is a "son-like fear of God" that " flows from the distinguishing love of God to his elect" (56). That is, it is a filial fear born as each person is born into the world—that is to say, by the will of another. We didn't choose to be born into the world, nor do we choose to be born again unto a fear of the Lord. It is born of everlasting love (Jer. 31:3). Flowing from God's distinguishing, selective love for his own, the fear of God is placed within his children as a provision of the new covenant (Jer. 32:38-40). And so the covenant context of this fear, then, is divine love. It flows from God's fatherly particular love for his children. That love, therefore, must flavor the fear of the Lord as we seek to cultivate it. It is a sweet and pleasant fear.

Second, though there are many inducements for generating the fear of the Lord, there is one most potent. Buynan says it well, and I heartily agree with him, both because of the Bible's witness and because of experience. Referencing Ps. 130:3-4, he says:

This godly fear flows from a sense of the love and kindness of God to the soul. . . . Indeed nothing can lay a stronger obligation upon the heart to fear God, than sense of, or hope in mercy (Jer. 33:8-9). This begetteth true tenderness of heart, true godly softness of spirit; this truly endeareth the affections to God; and in this true tenderness, softness, and endearedness of affection to God, lieth the very essence of this fear of the Lord . . . (58).

Amen, Bunyan. This fear is my portion. It is a sweet and lovely and pleasant fear. And to it I want to submit sweetly all my days.

The Holy Communion

Not in rich furniture, or fine array,
           Nor in a wedge of gold,
           Thou, who from me was sold,
        To me dost now thyself convey;
For so thou shouldst without me still have been,
            Leaving within me sin:

But by the way of nourishment and strength
            Thou creep'st into my breast;
            Making thy way my rest,
         And thy small quantities my length;
Which spread their forces into every part,
            Meeting sin's force and art.

Yet can these not get over to my soul,
            Leaping the wall that parts
            Our souls and fleshly hearts;
        But as th' outworks, they may control
My rebel-flesh, and carrying thy name,
            Affright both sin and shame.

Only thy grace, which with these elements comes,
            Knoweth the ready way,
            And hath the privy key,
        Op'ning the soul's most subtle rooms;
While those to spirits refined, at door attend
            Dispatches from their friend.

Give me my captive soul, or take
         My body also thither.
Another lift like this will make
         Them both to be together.

Before that sin turned flesh to stone,
         And all our lump to leaven;
A fervent sigh might well have blown
         Our innocent earth to heaven.

For sure when Adam did not know
         To sin, or sin to smother;
He might to heav'n from Paradise go,
         As from one room t'another.

Thou hast restored us to this case
        By this thy heav'nly blood;
Which I can go to, when I please,
        And leave th' earth to their food.

—George Herbert, The Complete English Poems (New York: Penguin, 1991), 46–47.

Whence Cometh the Fear of God?

In his Treatise on the Fear of God, John Bunyan speaks of the grace of the fear of God in the fourth section of the book. In what follows, I'll provide his eleven headings from the section where he describes that from which this godly fear flows, along with some of the texts cited.

1. This fear, this grace of fear, this son-like fear of God, it flows from the distinguishing love of God to his elect (Jer. 32:38-40).
2. This fear flows from a new heart (Jer. 32:39; Ezek. 11:19; 36:26).
3. This fear of God flows from an impression, a sound impression, that the Word of God maketh on our souls; for without an impress of the Word, there is no fear of God (Deut. 6:1-2; 31:12).
4. This godly fear floweth from faith; for where the Word maketh a sound impression on the soul, by that impression is faith begotten, whence also this fear doth flow (Gal. 3:2; Heb. 11:7).
5. This godly fear also floweth from sound repentance for and from sin; godly sorrow worketh repentance, and godly repentance produceth this fear (2 Cor. 7:10-11).
6. This godly fear also flows from a sense of the love and kindness of God to the soul (Ps. 130:3-4).
7. This fear of God flows from a due consideration of the judgments of God that are to be executed in the world; yea, upon professors too (Ps. 119:120; 1 Chron. 13:12; Deut. 13:11; 17:13; 19:20; 21:21).
8. This godly fear also flows from a godly remembrance of our former distresses, when we were distressed with our first fears (Deut. 4:9-11).
9. This godly fear flows from our receiving of an answer of prayer, when we supplicated for mercy at the hand of God (1 Kgs. 8:37-40; Lk. 16:15).
10. This grace of fear also flows from a blessed conviction of the all-seeing eye of God (1 Kgs. 8:39-40).
11. This grace of fear also flows from a sense of the impartial judgment of God upon men according to their works (1 Pet. 1:17).

—John Bunyan, A Treatise on the Fear of God (The Apologetics Group), 56-61.

Legitimate Mastery and Control of Creation

In his fine book—Dominion and Dynasty: A Theology of the Hebrew Bible—Stephen Dempster breifly surveys the Old Testament's wisdom literature: Job, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs. About this literature he says:

[Wisdom literature] develops the theme of human mastery of the world. 'Wisdom' signifies the mastery of a skill in a particular domain. The word is first used in the Tanakh to describe the skill of individuals entrusted with the responsibility of making priestly garments (Exod. 28:1-3) and constructing the tabernacle at Sinai (Exod. 31:1-3). People skilled at various tasks, whether singing (Jer. 9:16-17) or sailing (Ps. 107:27), metallurgy (1 Kgs. 7:14) or military ability (Is. 10:13), shipbuilding (Ezek. 27:9) or snake-charming (Ps. 58:6), could be described as 'wise.' 

Dempster avers that Solomon virtually personifies Old Testament wisdom as he "had the ability to rule effectively over the kingdom of Israel." Commenting on Solomon, he says:

He as the teacher disseminates wisdom—not for any particular skill or limited technical domain, but for life itself. Consequently, Solomon in part embodies what it means to fulfill the call to be human in Genesis 1:27-28, namely, to rule the creation and to exercise dominion over it. Wisdom literature specifically deals with this concern for legitimate mastery and control of creation.

—Stephen G. Dempster, Dominion and Dynasty: A Theology of the Hebrew Bible (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2003), 202.

The Word Working on the Wencels in 2014

Every year Emily and I begin the new year with Psalm 1. This year is no exception. And this year, reflecting on the previous year and its shortcomings with respect to devotion to God's Word, Psalm 1 seems all the sweeter, all the more illuminating, and all the more urgent to heed.

Every year Emily and I also come up with some Bible reading scheme that gets us through the whole Bible at least once in the year. Given the presence of a toddler in our home now, and given other shiftings, we're shifting this year how we're going about reading the Word systematically. That we will read it systematically, both individually and as a family, that will not change. But how we go about this commitment is changing.

Whatever we might be doing as individuals in communion with God, as a family we're starting a three-year cycle of getting through the whole of Scripture together. Our individual reading plans will get us through the Bible the equivalent of every year, and our family reading plan will get us through the Bible every three years together. Because of their importance, we'll be reading Psalms and Proverbs every year together. And we'll also be doing more focused study on a given book or two together.

Here, then, is our three-year plan for reading all of Scripture together:

Old Testament

Year 1–Latter Prophets (Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the Book of the Twelve), Psalms, and Proverbs.
Year 2–Pentatuch (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy), select Writings (Job, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Lamentations, Daniel), Psalms, and Proverbs.
Year 3–Former Prophets (Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings), select Writings (Ruth, Chronicles, Ezra-Nehemiah, Esthter), Psalms, and Proverbs.

New Testament

Year 1–Matthew, Mark, James, 1 Peter, 2 Peter, and Jude.
Year 2–Luke-Acts, and Pauline epistles.
Year 3–John, 1–3 John, Revelation, and Hebrews.

So this year we're reading together the Latter Prophets, Psalms, Proverbs, Matthew, Mark, James, 1 Peter, 2 Peter, and Jude. And this year our focused study together will be in Isaiah and Mark, Isaiah for the first half of the year, Mark for the second half. We'll probably read these books several times each, listen to scores of sermons on these books, and study certain passages more closely together using helps and guides along the way (e.g., J. C. Ryle on the Gospels). Additionally, we're planning on memorizing some Psalms together (Pss. 32, 67, 103, 127, 128, 130, 131) and the book of Titus.