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The profound anthropological nature of the Psalter is not in any way diminished by appreciating its central Christological character. In fact, the opposite is true. It’s only when we read the Psalms as Christian Scripture that we really begin to understand the wide range of human experience and emotion that it presents. We relate to the Psalmist as sinners mystically and legally united to Jesus Christ. The Psalms teach us that all Christian experience is grounded in a substantial metaphysical reality outside of us. This prevents us from embracing an introspective moralism devoid of higher and more significant realities. This gives us confidence to pray with the Psalmist as those who have passed from death to life through the person of Christ.
The prophetic nature of the Psalter applies equally to both its study and its use in song. This means that the Psalter is far more than a mere literary compilation of ancient religious experiences. This also means that the Psalter is far more than a portrait of godliness existing for purposes of moral reform and spiritual renewal. The Psalter is profoundly Christological in its prophetic scope. Thus, the words of David are really the words of Christ. The suffering king is indeed our suffering king. The godly man’s picture is indeed the imperfect portrait of our ever-blessed Christ. The blessed state of the righteous finds its salvific significance in the righteous Christ who lived, died, and rose again for the sins of his covenant people. The repentant adulterer and murderer is the perfect penitential Messiah who stands in the place of His people and bears God’s curse on their behalf. While we study, preach, and sing the Psalter, we find ourselves studying, preaching, and singing the words of Christ. Until this central Christological reality is understood, the Psalter will only present itself as a source of frustration. Christ gives meaning to the Psalter and invades its every detail.
It recently came to my attention that 1912 versions of the Dutch Psalter are available at Reformation Heritage Books. I ordered my copy and received it on Friday. It’s a beautiful hardcover book with various metrical versions of all 150 Psalms, it contains the three forms of unity, the Dutch liturgy, prayers for private and family worship, metrical versions of other Scripture like the Magnificant and the song of Zacharias, and a wonderful historical introduction to Psalmody. The great thing about it is that its only $9.00! For those seeking to acquaint themselves with Psalmody, I heartily recommend this particular Psalter. The Dutch Psalter has a rich heritage in the Reformed tradition, and has been utilized by Dutch Reformed Christians for centuries. I’m not musically trained in any way, but the layout of the Psalter makes it easy to use for even the most musically illiterate people like myself! You can purchase this Psalter in either small or standard sizes here.
Absolutely beautiful! For those of you who’ve been wondering, I’ve recently embraced exclusive Psalmody as the only consistently Biblical application of the regulative principle to our congregational singing. Lord willing, I’ll soon write a somewhat extensive post on my reasons for the switch. I found some videos on youtube which have helped me in learning to sing metrical versions of the Psalms. Here’s one of my favorites. Enjoy!
I threw this question out there recently at the Puritanboard. It was sparked by some of R. Scott Clark’s recent musings on Pentecostalism, Jonathan Edwards, and the First Great Awakening. I have conclusions of my own, but I thought it would be interesting to hear other voices on this issue. The entire thread can be found here.
“It seems like in the Reformed community, the first great awakening is almost unanimously regarded as a “surpising work of the Spirit of God”, or a genuine revival of true religion in the American colonies. I think the work of men like John Piper, Ian Murray, and the whole banner of truth crew have really augmented this monolithic approach to the first great awakening. Now I’m not pronouncing any kind of judgment. I’ve really profited from Piper’s work on Edwards, Murray’s work on New Light Presbyterianism, and other works in a similar vein. I just find it somewhat odd that in light of the widespread controversies during the first great awakening between Old Light’s and New Light’s (both Presbyterians and Congregationalist’s), there is really nothing today that seems to reflect that kind of theological tension. I’ve read some stuff here and there. I think of Darryl Hart’s critique of the first great awakening/new light calvinism in many of his works. Nevertheless, the bent seems to be almost entirely positive. I guess my question is this: are there any out there that have some kind of substantial reservations about the influence of the first great awakening? More specifically, did men like Edwards, Whitefield, or Tennet depart from historic Reformed orthodoxy in their revivalistic methodologies and emphasis on experience? Or did these men, and the awakening in general, only solidify and embody the Reformed and Puritan emphasis upon an experiential piety which manifests itself in genuine religious affection grounded in truth and measured by the Scriptures? These thoughts were sparked as I was reading some of Charles Chauncy’s letters, a militant critic of Jonathan Edwards and the first great awakening. He says with respect to the awakening….
‘For myself, I am among those who are clearly in the opinion
that there never with such a spirit of superstition and enthusiasm reigning in the land before; never such gross disorders and barefaced affronts to common decency; never such scandalous reproaches on the Blessed Spirit, making Him the author of the greatest irregularities and confusions.’” (A Letter from a gentleman in Boston to Mr. George Wishart)
In the midst of a nominal evangelicalism where faith in faith seems to constitute the essence of Christian piety, we need to recover the Puritan and Reformed emphasis upon the objective work of Christ (outside of us) as the only adequate foundation upon which to build a theology of sanctification. Christ is the beginning, middle, and end of the Christian’s life and piety. I found Joel Beeke’s words encouraging in praying towards this end.
“Overcoming the world by faith will last forever. That is because the object of faith is the Son of God, and the author of faith is the Spirit of Christ. The source of strength does not lie in himself or even in his faith but in the object of that faith, Jesus the Son of God.”
-Joel Beeke, Overcoming The World (p. 35)
An important question discussed here.
A deeply sad commentary upon the spiritual lethargy plaguing our generation is the absence of a Spirit-wrought piety nourished by the preaching of the Word, strengthened by the worthy partaking of the sacraments, and complemented by the daily exercises of meditation, prayer, Scripture reading, singing of psalms, and others like devotions prescribed for us in the Scriptures. A historical examination of the piety characteristic of an earlier generation sheds light upon the lukewarm spirituality of our day, particularly with respect to English and American Puritanism, perhaps one of the godliest and most spiritually zealous movements to grace this earth since the time of the apostles.
What’s gone wrong? Why hasn’t Puritanical spirituality carried over into the 21st century, creating a group of men and women who simultaneously live both in heaven and on earth? Why do we find it so incredibly difficult to spend an hour reading the Scriptures or 2 hours on our knees in prayer, when we can spend 2 or 3 hours at a movie theater in front of a screen where sexual immorality equals adventure, wanton violence translates into stunning action sequences, adultery presents itself as romance, and explicit language is just downright funny? Are we deceiving ourselves into thinking that such disproportionate devotion and sin is merely “how things are in the 21st century?” Are we baptizing such wickedness in the name of “cultural relevance”, thinking that a healthy exposure to the secular mind will enable us to evangelize our lost friends more effectively? Or are we functioning anti-nomians, living as though God’s grace in Christ provides us with the liberty to sin all the more while grace continues to abound? Whatever the reasons, the realities can’t be denied. The Christianity of our age is a fuzzy religion of self-indulgence and blatant hypocrisy. We can see even among conservative Christians a concerted push for balancing orthodox theology and “normal living.” According to these types, the piety of an earlier generation was just too legalistic, sterile, hard-shelled, and unreasonable! It’s my contention that the Spirit-wrought piety of an earlier generation is exactly the kind of remedy we need in the midst of this spiritually lethargic exercise in anti-nomian Christianity. The Reformed and Puritan emphasis upon an experiential piety created and nourished in the church, complemented and strengthened through spiritual discipline, and intentionally expressed in every area of living, must be recovered if Reformation Christianity wishes to retain its historical consistency and spiritual vigor.
One particular problem, which has presented itself in various forms throughout the history of the church, lies specifically in contempt of means. Without being reductionistic in this regard, I’d like to argue that we’ve been duped into thinking that God works indirectly apart from the use of ordained spiritual means. This theory of indirect spiritual mediation has a rich theological heritage in Anabaptistic spirituality, which emphasized the direct revelation of God to the human mind, apart from the use of ordained spiritual means. This brand of spirituality logically resulted in a strict memorialism that regarded the elements of the Lord’s Supper as mere symbols devoid of any kind of supernatural grace. This particular sacramentology (although Baptist’s and Anabaptist’s alike would never use the word sacrament) departed from the patristic orthodoxy of the apostolic church, who had always regarded the sacraments as visible means of God’s supernatural grace. If memorialism had any theological heritage before the Reformation, it was limited to the various schismatic fringe groups outside the bounds of historic catholic orthodoxy. This memorialism also transformed the apostolic understanding of baptism as God’s ordained means of grace to the covenant children of Christians, into a human act of self-identification to be administered to adults alone. This disdain of means also had very practical ramifications with respect to the Anabaptistic understanding of Scripture. Ababaptist’s like Thomas Muntzer regarded indirect revelation from God as a superior form of spiritual revelation than the Holy Scriptures themselves.
Thus, the Anabaptist’s, in their theological contempt of means, created an environment where indirect revelations from the Holy Spirit were to be trusted more than the objective word of God in Scripture and the visible word of the gospel in the sacraments. This legacy carried over partially into the more theologically orthodox Baptist’s of the 17th century. The consensus among Baptist’s was that the Lord’s Supper and Baptism were not “sacraments”, in any way spiritually efficacious or intended for those without a rational understanding of their significance. According to the London Baptist Confession of 1689, the Lord’s Supper is “only a memorial of that one offering up of Christ by Himself upon the cross once for all, the memorial being accompanied by a spiritual oblation of all possible praise to God for Calvary (London Baptist Confession of 1689 30:2).” The Anabaptistic understanding of Baptism also carried over into the baptismal theology of 17th century Baptist’s. With regard to baptism, the London Baptist Confession, in keeping with the spirit of the Anabaptist’s, claimed that only “Those who actually profess repentance towards God, faith in, and obedience to, our Lord Jesus Christ, are the only proper subjects for this ordinance (LBC 1689, 29:2).” For both Anabaptist’s and 17th century Baptist’s, both baptism and the Lord’s Supper were visual signs appointed for the means of self-identification and remembrance.
The massive theological import of this particular sacramental theology is obvious. Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are no longer supernatural events whereby God condescends in love to save and sanctify His covenant people. For the Anabaptist’s, baptism and the Lord’s Supper are human works of self-identification and memorial, not supernatural acts of grace and merciful condescension. With respect to the sacraments, the Baptist begins with man primarily and God secondarily. The Reformed consensus begins with God in His salvific acts of sacramental condescension, and ends with man secondarily as the empty and sinful beneficiary of God’s covenant grace. Herein lies one of the profound differences separating the Baptist’s from the Reformed.
Other factors could be taken into consideration. Perhaps the most dire and sickening contributor to the largely semi-Pelagian spirituality, which despises means in favor of indirect experience, was the theology and practice of Charles Finney, the famous revivalist of the 19th century, and the spiritual captain of the Second Great Awakening. Finney’s un-churchly revivalism, which relied entirely upon a thoroughly Pelagian anthropology, is perhaps the single greatest contributor to the lukewarm spirituality of 20th century evangelicalism. The point in mentioning the Anabaptist’s, Finney, or any other historical influence upon this modern-day contempt of means, is to emphasize that a low view of means breeds devastating consequences.
What does this have to do at all with recovering a distinctly Puritanical understanding of sanctification? It’s my solemn contention that this memorialistic disregard of means has manifested itself in a trivial spirituality with no doctrinal moorings, no spiritual nourishment, and no ecclesiastical context. The spirit of Anabaptism has been revived in the charismatic spirituality of contemporary evangelicalism, where means are mocked and a free spirit of indirect communion with God is celebrated. These heresies have broken out of charismatic circles into more conservative communions, their confessional standards being attacked by a functional continuationism marked by a-theological emotionalism, the primacy of an indirect experience from God apart from Word or Sacrament, and the contempt of confessional standards in favor of more contemporary and “Spirit-led” forms of confessional codifications. This cancerous spirituality, masquerading itself as a resurgence of passion for God, is at complete odds with the Reformed and Puritan understanding of sanctification which regarded Word and Sacrament, along with the spiritual disciplines of prayer, meditation, and the reading of Scripture, as the ordinary means of communion with God and progress in holiness.
Where do those of us start, who genuinely desire a surprising work of the Holy Spirit in our generation? How can a consistently Biblical worldview be recovered in the midst of confessional aberration and outright heresy; a worldview and piety consistent with the theological heritage of the early Reformers and Puritans? Where will this piety come from? It seems like the church has been looking for trivial answers so long, that it’s essentially forgotten what’s staring us in the face. The Scriptures contain all things necessary for life and godliness, including the God-ordained means of a Spirit-wrought piety that overcomes the world. Our quest for trendiness and cultural relevance has blinded us from this very central fact, that “the Word of God, which is contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, are the only rule to direct us how we may glorify and enjoy Him (Shorter Catecism, question 2).” We must recover much more than a mere conceptual understanding of Sola Scriptura, notwithstanding its monumental importance. Sola Scriptura must invade our preaching, living, marriages, parenting, worshiping, praying, meditating, singing, and every other sphere of our life, if genuine piety be recovered in this sinful and perverse generation.
“There is a yearning in the evangelical world today. We encounter it everywhere. It is a yearning for what is real. Sales pitches, marketed faith, the gospel as commodity, people as customers, God as just a prop to my inner life, the glitz and sizzle, Disneyland on the loose in our churches- all of it is skin deep and often downright wrong. It is not making serious disciples. It cannot make serious disciples. It brims with success, but it is empty, shallow, and indeed unpardonable. It is time to reach back into the Word of God, as we have not done in a generation, and find again a serious faith for our undoubtedly serious times. It is now time to close the door on this disastrous experiment in retailing faith, to do so politely but nevertheless firmly. It is time to move on. It is time to become Protestant once again.” -David Wells, The Courage To Be Protestant [p. 58]
The question of whether the Sabbath command carries over into the New Covenant as a perpetual and abiding moral obligation, has perplexed me for some time. In my personal journey towards a historic Reformed confessionalism, the Sabbath question has been the one question I’ve been somewhat hesitant to come down on. This arose not so much from an anti-nomianism which sought to maintain some cherished liberty, as much as it was from a theological misunderstanding of the proper relationship between the Mosaic and New covenants, and how those continuities and discontinuities affect us today. In the midst of these theological crises, I came upon The Lord’s Day, written by Greenville Presbyterian Seminary’s president Joseph Pipa. Providentially, Pipa’s book provided a good measure of theological resolution with regard to the Sabbath question.
Pipa’s book is clearly not written for the academy. It’s really not even academically comparable to something like Carson’s book From Sabbath to Lord’s Day. I say this not because the book was academically disappointing in any way. The book is clearly written for a lay audience, and is a simple tool for all Christians working through the Sabbath question. Pipa begins the book with a quick study of Isaiah 58:13-14, noting that a faithful observance of the Lord’s Day brings with it an innumerable amount of spiritual blessings for the believer. These spiritually blessings specifically entail an unsurpassed communion with God, a spiritual victory which overcomes the world, and a deep enjoyment of the benefits of salvation. Historically and Biblically, the purpose of the Sabbath was not to stifle people into observing a despondent day of un-enjoyment. On the contrary, the Sabbath was instituted for our joy, victory, and communion with God. One thing that I appreciate about Pipa’s approach is his care in starting with these realities, before discussing what is prohibited on the Sabbath day. He contends again and again that the Sabbath prohibitions are not a burden, but commanded for our joy.
Pipa states in the introduction that one of his aims in writing the book was to present an exegetically compelling case for strict Sabbatarianism. A number of arguments are presented in the book, and I’ll touch on the most relevant one’s. A proper understanding of the role and function of the Sabbath principle begins far before the Ten Commandments or the Mosaic covenant. Strict Sabbatarianism finds its exegetical and redemptive-historical origins in the creation account of Genesis 1 and 2. After finishing his work of creation, God rested on the seventh day. What does it mean when the writer of Genesis states that God rested? By resting on the seventh day God declared that his work of creation was complete, He expressed his delight in all that He had created, and He pictured the spiritual rest that He would provide for mankind in Christ. After resting on the seventh day, God sanctified the Sabbath and made it holy. What’s exegetically relevant is first, that God’s resting and sanctifying work far precede the national, ethnic, and temporal covenant He entered into with the nation of Israel. Therefore it doesn’t do to say that the Sabbath was given to Israel and cannot apply in any way to New Covenant Christians. The Sabbath principle finds its origin in God’s creational acts of resting and sanctifying. Consequently, the Sabbath command is a creation ordinance and cannot be repealed. A second point concerning Genesis 2:1-3 is that the Sabbath principle is grounded in the very character of God himself. Pipa contends that for the Sabbath principle to be abrogated, God must change in his very character and essence. Obviously, God’s immutability precludes him from changing in His essence or nature. Therefore the Sabbath is something far greater than a temporal institution created under ethnic, national, and ceremonial circumstances. The Sabbath principle reflects the very character of God, and is perpetually binding in all ages.
At this point it might be helpful to distinguish between what Pipa calls moral and positive laws. A moral law is a law that binds from its very character. It is a commandment that “morally reflects the nature of God and our relation to Him and one another (p.26).” A positive law is a commandment, which is not morally necessary. With respect to the Sabbath question, the moral law is the commandment to set apart one day for the purpose of rest and worship, the positive law being the particular day on which this rest and worship is observed. Morally speaking, the Sabbath principle embodies the absolute necessity of sanctifying one specific day for rest, worship, communion with God, enjoyment of salvation, and the cessation of recreation or any other kind of personal pleasure. Those before Christ rested and worshipped (moral law) on the seventh day (positive law), while those in the New Covenant rest and worship (moral law) on the first day of the week (positive law).
Pipa is also careful to argue for the perpetually abiding significance of the Sabbath from the New Testament. Contrary to popular theological opinion, the New Testament provides an abundant amount of material directly related to the Sabbath question. In Matt 12:1-8 Jesus is found healing on the Sabbath, something which violated the Talmudic laws of the Pharisee’s. After being questioned by the Pharisee’s, Jesus clarifies the intention of the Sabbath day as a day of mercy, and then proceeds to call himself “the Lord of the Sabbath.” What’s important to note in this passage is that Jesus never once argued against the right and proper observation of the Sabbath day. Jesus wasn’t interested in abolishing a principle which was rooted in creation and reflective of God’s nature. Jesus argued against the legalistic additions of the Pharisee’s and not the Sabbath day itself. We see the same approach in other passages where Jesus deals with the Sabbath question. He’s careful to point out the radical abuses of the Pharisee’s, and to clarify the original intention of the Sabbath command.
Pipa appeals to a number of other New Testament texts like Hebrews 4:13-19, Colossians 2:16-17, 1 Cor. 16:1-12, and others. Important to note is that the Sabbath takes on new meaning under the New Covenant. While the obligation remains the same, the Sabbath also takes on greater significance in light of Christ’s work of redemption. Under divine sanction, the apostles began to worship on the first day of the week rather than the seventh, celebrating the resurrection of Christ and the accomplishment of redemption. On this side of redemptive history, Christians rest from their labors to actively celebrate the accomplishment of redemption in the person of Jesus Christ. We celebrate the Sabbath by resting from our labors and performing deeds of necessity and mercy, all for the purpose of enjoying Christ more fully.
In the second half of the book, Pipa investigates the Sabbath question historically, observing that many of the church Fathers taught an early form of strict Sabbatarianism. The Reformers were mixed in their understanding of the Sabbath, while nonetheless arguing for some form of Sabbatarianism. Strict Sabbatarianism took its most definite and Biblical shape under the ministry of the English Puritans and Scottish Presbyterians of the 17th century. Pipa concludes that while faithful Sabbath observance has declined since the time of the Puritans, it nevertheless remains imperative that it is revived in our day.
I thoroughly enjoyed Pipa’s contribution to the Sabbath question, and came away with even more of an understanding concerning these issues. I appreciated Pipa’s warm pastoral tone, his keen exegesis, and his knowledge of church history. Here’s my beef with the book: First, the book was poorly organized, arranged in an almost haphazard manner, and sometimes difficult to follow. Maybe I’m being too nitpicky, but I would have really enjoyed a more consistently organized book which continued to build as it moved through the material. Second, it seemed that Pipa had the tendency to objectify some of his personal positions on faithful Sabbath observance, and present them as morally binding upon all Christians. For instance, he raises the question of whether Christians should travel on the Sabbath day. If we’re presented with a.) traveling on Sunday but spending more time with our family on Saturday, or b.) leaving on Saturday and sacrificing family time, what should we do? He answers that since it’s morally objectionable to travel on the Sabbath, we should sacrifice time with our families and leave on Saturday instead. While I agree that traveling on the Sabbath should be avoided, I’m hesitant to bind every man’s conscience on something which may very well be a work of necessity. These criticisms aside, I really enjoyed the book and would recommend it to anyone interested in studying this issue practically and exegetically. It’s a short read, and very simple to follow.
