Unfortunately, many evangelicals (to riff on one author) affirm not Sola Scriptura but Solo Scriptura, which is kind of like the difference between being the final authority on the ship versus being the only person on the ship. But the Reformers’ rallying cry was Ad fontes, meaning, “To the sources.” To be a Protestant is to re-form the Church to be more biblical and more in line with all the traditions and precedents insofar as they are biblical. So we should appreciate the saints who have gone before us, learning from them wherever possible, agreeing with them wherever permissible, and diverging from them wherever necessary.

For this reason I commend to you 1 Clement, a letter written within, by, and to the early Church. It is not inspired Scripture, but it is a helpful resource which will encourage you, especially because it is a font (a source, a foundation, a precedent) for our value of cooperative congregationalism and our doctrine of justification by faith alone.

The Context

A few years ago there was an epidemic of division over racial issues and a number of Christians made a point to “Leave Loud.” The local church became a proxy for the culture war, and some Christians parted with their fellow congregants in the most public way possible in order to have maximum cultural impact.

This is similar to the occasion of 1 Clement. The church in Corinth was experiencing bitter schisms, and a group had succeeded in expelling some of the pastors, though they were not disqualified biblically. When the church in Rome heard what was going on, out of care for their sister church they sent a letter asking them to reconcile, reinstate the wronged pastors, and maintain unity.

Cooperative Churches

Clement of Rome is a man whom I, as a reformed Baptist, can deeply appreciate. Clement seems to share the understanding of pastoral ministry our elders would affirm: There are two offices of the church, “bishops” (we would say “pastors”) and deacons (see 1 Clement 42:1–5).^[1] The apostles passed their authority on not by establishing a “bishop of bishops” and not by selecting anyone to be the “next apostle,” but by appointing “bishops and deacons” (42.5). These men were elected by the congregation; as long as they have not morally disqualified themselves, church members ought to submit to their leadership. Clement has only the two offices, but he views them in high esteem. He exhorts the Corinthians,

Let each of you, brothers, give thanks to God with your own group, maintaining a good conscience, not overstepping the designated rule of his ministry [that is, the biblical hierarchy of elders], but acting with reverence. (41.1)

So Clement, a prominent pastor in the Patristic Era, had a robust understanding of the role of elders to rule their local church.

He also had an equally robust respect for the role of the local church, something which we as baptist congregationalists can appreciate. The letter is introduced with “The church of God that sojourns in Rome to the church of God that sojourns in Corinth” (Salutation). He appeals to the “brothers” in Corinth. This is a letter sent from one church to another church. He entreats them, “Let us unite with those who devoutly practice peace, and not with those who hypocritically wish for peace” (15.1).^[2] Clement never suggests Rome has authority over Corinth, nor that he (“successor” to Peter) has authority over Corinth or Corinth’s pastors.^[3] He affirms that bishops (elders) are selected not by apostolic succession/affirmation, but “by other reputable men with the consent of the whole church”—that is, the whole church in that locality. Corinthian believers select Corinthian pastors, and Roman believers select Roman pastors.

It would be anachronistic for us to say, “Clement was a congregationalist!” But we can certainly say that we, as congregationalists, find exceptionally warm company in this apostolic father.

Justification by Faith Alone

1 Clement also contributes a wonderful perspective on justification. At first glance it seems he is taking a Roman Catholic view:

Seeing then that we are the portion of the Holy One, let us do all the things that pertain to holiness. … Let us therefore join with those to whom grace is given by God. Let us clothe ourselves in concord, being humble and self-controlled, keeping ourselves far from all backbiting and slander, being justified by works and not by words. (30:1–3)

Uh-oh. Isn’t that legalism? “Justified by works”? No. Clement is not affirming the meriting of salvation by works any more than James did in his letter. By “justification” he does not here mean made righteous but rather shown to be righteous. This is evident from the fact that he thinks the grace is already given, not being now earned by our works. He explains his point in 6–7, saying, “Let our praise be with God, and not from ourselves. … Let the testimony to our good deeds be given by others, as it was given to our fathers…” (30.6–7)

So he is dealing here not with the “justification” that makes one righteous before God, but with the justification that demonstrates one’s righteousness before other people. He reiterates this point again in 33.7–8, arguing that the righteous are “adorned with good works” just as “the Lord himself” adorned himself with good works when he created all things (33.7–8).^[4] Surely we must recognize that God’s creation of the world in Genesis 1–2 did not make him righteous, but showed him to be righteous. That’s the type of “justification” Clement has in mind (as does James in his epistle).

Clement goes to great length in the rest of his letter to communicate that he does not mean we are made righteous by our works, writing:

All, therefore, were glorified and magnified, not through themselves or their own works or the righteous actions that they did, but through his will. And so we, having been called through his will in Christ Jesus, are not justified through ourselves or through our own wisdom or understanding or piety, or works that we have done in holiness of heart, but through faith, by which the Almighty God has justified all who have existed from the beginning; to whom be the glory for ever and ever. Amen. (32.3–4)

When the reformers argued for “justification by grace alone through faith alone,” they viewed their understanding of the gospel to be a return to the earliest and most faithful tradition—and 1 Clement is clearly one of the “sources” to which they returned.

As a reformed and baptist pastor, I find great encouragement to find the fonts of cooperative congregationalism and of justification by faith alone in this letter. I would recommend you read 1 Clement in the same way you might read a devotional from a Puritan or listen to a sermon from a preacher you like. Let Clement point you to Scripture, and to the God who has been faithful throughout the ages.

We do have to be careful when talking about the Apostolic Fathers, and any figure from church history. They were men of their times, just like we are today. We don’t want to judge them by our standards, nor to read ourselves into their stories. It would be anachronistic, for example, to call Clement a Calvinist. But he does preach the same gospel I find in Calvin and Luther and Zwingli, so perhaps you could call them—you could certainly call me—a Clementine.

^[1] Clement treats “bishops”  as interchangeable with “elders” (44.5; 47.6; 54.2; 57.1; 63.1), just like Paul does in Titus 1 and in Acts 20:18–35.

^[2] Note that not everyone who says they want peace actually does! We are to be hands-on peace-makers, not wistful peace-wishers.

^[3] In this way, Clement does not present a good case study for those who seek warrant for the Roman papacy in the ranks of the early church fathers.

^[4] When he argues this, Clement does not try to motivate Christians to do “good works” as an outworking of their salvation, but of their imago dei. Which is to say: God does good works; we’re created in his image; so we should do good works. This expands the idea of “good works” to include much more than benevolent/religious acts; it literally includes everything under the sun, whatever action we might do in reflection of our Creator.

The post Call me a Clementine appeared first on Founders Ministries.

Exactly two hundred fifty years before that momentous occasion, another man sat in a house in Germany, dipping a feather pin into ink and putting words onto paper. Those words also happened to be treasonous toward the British crown—not because they mentioned England by name, but because of their very existence—and the one writing them had been in hiding and working in secret for many months. If discovered, he would almost certainly be arrested and burned at the stake.

Yet to William Tyndale, writing those words was worth any cost because they were the words of life itself. Tyndale was not declaring independence from Britain; he was declaring his absolute dependence on Almighty God and the message that His Holy Spirit delivered through the hands of Paul, John, Peter, Luke, and others. That message declared how Jesus, the Son of God who is both fully God and fully man, came to earth as a baby, lived an absolutely perfect and sinless life, died on a cross to pay the penalty for the sins of man, and rose again on the third day as the ultimate King and the Lord over life and death.

And Tyndale’s life mission was to make sure that English-speaking people could read that message in their own language. In his day, the leaders of the Catholic church held tight control on how people could read or hear the words of the Bible, and usually that was through a translation into Latin, which most people could not understand. Tyndale wanted every farmer, worker, and peasant, every father, mother, and child, to be able to hold a copy of the Scriptures in his own hand and read it in his own tongue, directly translated from the Greek and Hebrew in which it was first written. He sought permission from the church to accomplish that work in a legal and official manner, but they were not receptive.

That did not leave Tyndale with any easy options. Not only was it forbidden to produce an unauthorized English version of the Bible, but it was punishable by death to own even a portion of one. Yet Tyndale would not be denied, whatever the consequences. So he took his work to Germany, where a man named Martin Luther had already started translating the Bible into German.

And in 1526, half a millennium ago, copies of Tyndale’s translation of the complete New Testament began appearing in the hands of farmers, workers, peasants, fathers, mothers, and children in England. Church and government leaders did not take kindly to this invasion, and they fought back by confiscating and destroying most of those illicit Bible translations. And they continued seeking to apprehend and destroy the translator.

Tyndale would not be deterred, and his work would go on. He would keep translating and printing new versions of the New Testament, and parts of the Old Testament, until he was finally captured in 1535. In 1536, ten years after the completion of the first edition of his New Testament translation, William Tyndale paid for his defiance with his life. His final words were a plea to heaven that God’s grace would be upon the British crown and that the Word would be allowed to go forth in Tyndale’s native land: “Lord, open the King of England’s eyes!”

Just a few years later, the king’s heart would indeed change, and he would order the creation of a version of the Bible in English that would be placed for public view in every church in the nation. And most of the words of this officially recognized Bible came from the translation work of William Tyndale. A generation after that, a group of Christians in Geneva, Switzerland, used Tyndale’s work to produce another English Bible that would be read throughout England and elsewhere in Europe. And one more generation later, in 1611, England’s King James would authorize a new version of the Bible that would, for centuries, become a mainstay in the Christian church around the world. The vast majority of the King James Version came directly from the translation efforts of Tyndale. In addition, it would be difficult to overestimate the influence of William Tyndale on the English language as a whole, since within his translation he coined a plethora of words and phrases that we take for granted as part of our common language—atonement, Passover, scapegoat, salt of the earth, my brother’s keeper, fight the good fight, beautiful, stumbling block, to name just a few.

To be sure, in the last five hundred years the perseverance and sacrifice of William Tyndale has itself dramatically affected “the course of human events.” In his own published work, and in the form of the Geneva and King James Bibles, his endeavors brought untold numbers of people throughout Europe to a deeper understanding of Christ and His gospel. Those words were then brought across the ocean to America, where they formed the basis of a people seeking to love and serve the one true God. Tyndale’s work gave a voice for followers of Jesus to express their worship, since they could now read and comprehend God’s Word to them. They could learn God’s law, God’s love, and God’s promises, and how Jesus Christ is the fulfillment of all of them. It seems hard to believe that the United States of America would have ever come into existence as we know it without the courageous, undaunted efforts of William Tyndale.

For my family, this story is also quite personal, and not just because we are Americans who believe and cherish the Bible.

When my wife and I were first married, and had the kind of free time that newlyweds have, we decided to spend some of that time exploring our family trees on a genealogical website. For hours on end, we would follow each branch as far as we could, virtually joining our ancestors as they raised families in Holland, fled persecution in France, lived peaceful lives in Germany, risked it all to cross the ocean to the New World, or ventured out into the frontiers of America.

I followed one of my family lines to England, where a name caught my attention: Tyndale. I had heard the name of William Tyndale, and perhaps like many people, I knew only the sparsest of details about him—he helped translate the Bible into English, and that work cost him his life. That wasn’t much, but it was enough to intrigue me to dig a bit further to find out if the Tyndale in my family tree was in any way connected to the translator.

As it turned out, I did not have to dig very deep because my research revealed that William Tyndale was actually the brother of the Tyndale in my line, making the great translator and martyr my great-uncle (sixteen generations removed).

For a while, that was nothing more than an interesting little bit of family trivia, but a few years later, my wife and I were expecting our third son, and we considered the idea of giving him the first name of Tyndale. Before we did that, we wanted to find out a lot more about this well-known (but maybe not deeply known) Christian hero. So we read every biography and article we could find about Great-Uncle William. We watched documentaries and listened to sermons. At the end of all of that, not only did we name our son Tyndale, but we discovered that his namesake was far more important to the history of the church—and to the history of America and beyond—than we could have imagined.

And five hundred years ago this year, my great uncle changed the world.

The post How Uncle William Changed the World appeared first on Founders Ministries.

The trial itself has been overshadowed by the outpouring of support and sympathy—not for the three murdered children, not for the father who lost his kids, but for Lindsay Clancy. Outside the Plymouth courthouse, hundreds of women gathered wearing buttons declaring that they were “Standing with Lindsay.” Others carried signs telling Clancy, “You’re a good mom.” One of the rally’s organizers told reporters that she and the other women believed what happened to Clancy “could be any one of us.”^[1]

The online reaction has been even more explicit. Women began posting videos of themselves crying while holding their own children with “Same, Lindsay” written across the screen. The social media frenzy surrounding the case now includes hundreds of thousands of TikTok videos, Instagram reels, and Reddit posts made by mothers placing themselves into Clancy’s story.

A substantial online community of women, steeped in who-knows-how-many hours of true-crime podcasts, has become convinced that her husband, Patrick, framed Lindsay. Women have appealed to dreams, psychic readings, and “bad vibes” as incontrovertible evidence that Patrick is the real killer. The fact that Lindsay herself says that she killed the children has proved remarkably ineffective at slowing the investigation of the regiment of TikTok women.

The spectacle has become strange enough that the headlines are beginning to sound like an attempted intervention for all women. The Daily Wire has asked whether Lindsay Clancy social media is “melting women’s brains” and elsewhere declared that the trial has “broken American women.” The Spectator called the phenomenon “the insanity of the Lindsay Clancy sympathizers.” The Free Press was less delicate, declaring that moms have “gone insane.” The Center for Baptist Leadership concluded that the case has revealed that “many women are not OK.”

Women are claiming a share of the sympathy Lindsey has received, because they too believe themselves to be victims of what marriage and motherhood have required of them.

I set out to write this as a follow-up to “We Need to Talk About the Radicalization of Young Women,” expecting the Clancy case to supply another example of two things I described there: empathy detached from moral truth, and the feminist contradiction that treats women as radically autonomous while denying them any meaningful moral agency when their choices end badly. Both are plainly present. But after spending far too many hours watching the videos and reading what these women were actually saying, I became convinced that something worse is going on.

In the earlier article, the empathy under discussion was still directed outward. It was misdirected, but its object was another person: the friend who identifies as transgender, the woman seeking an abortion, the sin that must not be named lest someone be hurt by hearing it named. The Clancy phenomenon shows what happens when that same empathy turns inward and finds its object in the self. If one investigates the social media posts of #TeamLindsay, they will quickly find that the women saying “Same, Lindsay” are not primarily expressing sympathy for Lindsay Clancy. They are claiming a share of the sympathy she has received, because they too believe themselves to be victims of what marriage and motherhood have required of them.

When Motherhood Becomes an Injury

Watching the current social media contagion, one can’t help but notice that “Same, Lindsay” does not merely mean, “I can imagine how awful it must have been to suffer from postpartum psychosis,” or even, “I know how hard motherhood can be.” The recurring claim is closer to this: You are finally paying attention to what motherhood did to Lindsay. Motherhood is doing this to me too. Where is my sympathy?

That is why so many of the videos are made with the woman’s own children in her arms. She is not simply offering compassion to another mother from afar. She is making a claim about herself. Her child serves as a prop, validating her claim that she too is exhausted. She too carries the “mental load.” Her husband does not understand how much she does either. She has given up sleep, time, freedom, and attention for children whose needs do not stop, just like Lindsay. And so, the sympathy, attention, and blamelessness that Lindsay has received are owed to her as well.

One sympathetic account^[2] of the phenomenon described women as finally learning, through the Clancy case, a language for “overfunctioning, people-pleasing, coercion, emotional labor, trauma, enmeshment, self-abandonment and abuse.” Outside the courthouse, another supporter complained that women are told motherhood is natural and that they should smile while doing it, so that a woman who is “not really into it” is made to feel that she is doing something wrong. The common idea is not simply that motherhood can be exhausting, but that exhaustion tells the woman that a wrong has been committed against her.

Such a view will inevitably cause a mother to resent her children, for a child can never repay his parents in proportion to what is spent on them. All things considered, children are spectacularly inconsiderate roommates. Be that as it may, that does not mean that motherhood constitutes exploitation. A child doesn’t choose to need his parents. His mother must care for him not because of some great systemic injustice, but because he cannot care for himself. But through the lens of “mom rage”, this same dependence is counted as a grievous wrong committed by the child against his mother.

The very dependence that should have deepened Lindsay’s obligation to her children was recast as the burden from which she was said to need deliverance.

In the saga of the Lindsay Clancy case, this claim of “harm” enacted upon the mother by the child needing her leads to perverse grounds for self-defense. If, indeed, her husband and children are doing harm by their claims upon her, then the moral question moves from “what do I owe them?” to “how may I escape what they are doing to me?”

It is worth noting that long before anyone had heard of Lindsay Clancy, American women had already been catechized in precisely this same logic through abortion. The fact that an unborn child may interfere with the life that the mother wishes to live is routinely treated as a warrant for killing that child. Shamefully, the modern pro-life movement has often played along, insisting that the mother is always the “second victim” of abortion.

The result is the same moral inversion. The child the mother is responsible for protecting is treated as a threat she must be delivered from. And among the thousands of women publicly identifying themselves with Lindsay Clancy, statistically many will already have killed an unborn child rather than accept the burdens that child would have imposed.

To be clear, birth did not make Cora, Dawson, and Callan more valuable than an unborn child. Rather, this case removes the linguistic gymnastics that abortion supporters like to hide behind. No one would call a five-year-old merely a “clump of cells.” Yet just as in the case of the preborn child, the very dependence that should have deepened Lindsay’s obligation to her children was recast as the burden from which she was said to need deliverance.

The Thorns and the Garden

The Christian account of motherhood begins in a very different place. Marriage, sexual difference, fruitfulness, work, and the obligations that arise from them are already present in Genesis 1 and 2. God creates mankind male and female and commands them to “be fruitful and multiply”. Only after all of this does the serpent appear. Whatever difficulties may exist in marriage and motherhood after the fall, marriage and motherhood belong to the creation that God called “very good.”

Feminism’s complaint is ultimately a complaint against the Creator.

Yet we indeed live on the other side of the fall, which brings pain and disorder into the world. The ground Adam was commanded to cultivate now produces thorns and thistles. The woman still bears children, but now in pain. In marriage, husbands now become passive and lazy while wives become discontent and rebellious, and children inherit the same fallen nature as their parents.

Feminism attributes the thorns to the garden itself. The pain attached to motherhood becomes evidence that motherhood itself is oppressive, and any claim upon the woman by either spouse or offspring is treated as labor unwillingly extracted from a woman who would otherwise be free.

But feminist complaints about marriage and motherhood merely expose the deeper problem. Before women are wives and mothers, they, along with men, are creatures. Creaturehood places every person under an authority and obligations they did not choose. As the Psalmist declares, “It is he who made us, and we are his” (Ps. 100:3). This means that our obligations within the created order rest finally upon the prior claim of the Creator upon the creature.

Thus, feminism’s complaint is ultimately a complaint against the Creator. This is because the child’s dependence on his mother, or the binding claims of marriage, or even our existence as male and female are not social conventions, but are something received by God. To call such realities unjust or oppressive is therefore to say something about more than motherhood and marriage. It is to declare that God has ordered human life wrongly.

Christianity gives women a better account of both the goodness and the difficulty of their lives. Marriage and motherhood are good because God made them good. They are painful because of the sin nature we inherited and the sin that we do. The Christian woman need not pretend that the thorns do not hurt, but she can also learn to love the garden and its Creator.

Law and Gospel in the Lindsay Clancy Case

At the heart of the Clancy case is a disordered empathy that says that we must treat the guilty person as though they were innocent. Once this disordered view turns inward, the woman begins to understand herself primarily as a victim, and her choices become things that happened to her.

Christianity has no need to do that. The message of Christianity includes not only the gospel, but also the law, which tells us what God requires and how He holds guilty people responsible for what they have done. The gospel does not abolish the law in the name of compassion; it announces what God has done in Christ for those whom the law has rightly condemned.

Lindsay Clancy does not need to be told she is a good mom. She needs to hear the truth: she is a sinner, and there is a Savior who died for sinners like her.

Much of the sympathy for Clancy has taken the form of moving the blame from Lindsay to someone or something else. Responsibility is moved elsewhere until none remains for the woman who admitted to killing her three children. Such disordered empathy not only sets aside God’s law; it also obliterates the need for God’s gospel. Lindsay Clancy does not need to be told, “It’s not your fault.” A guilty sinner needs to hear the verdict the law declares: that she is truly guilty and deserving of the wrath of God. It is only against such dire news that the good news of the gospel is seen for the glory that it is.

In a sense, then, “Same, Lindsay” reaches much deeper than the women using it intend. Like Lindsay, we have all transgressed God’s holy law and are without excuse. We have all tried, in one form or another, to blame our circumstances, blame other people, or redescribe our sins until they no longer sound like sins. God’s law does not cooperate with such self-delusion. It “stops every mouth” and holds “the whole world accountable to God” (Rom. 3:19).

When we view ourselves rightly in the view of God’s law, we can see clearly why what Christ accomplished is such good news. The perfect, sinless Son of God bore the wrath that His people deserved, and now those who are united to Him by faith have been justified; not because their guilt has been explained away, but because it has been fully paid for by the blood of Christ. Every sinner, no matter what wickedness they have done, who comes to Christ in faith and repentance will be received.

Lindsay Clancy does not need to be told she is a good mom. She does not need to be told that what happened was not her fault. She needs to hear the truth: she is a sinner, and there is a Savior who died for sinners like her. “The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1 Tim. 1:15).

[1] Deborah Becker and Ayesha Rascoe, “Why Hundreds Showed Up to Support Murder Trial Defendant Lindsay Clancy,” NPR, August 23, 2026.

[2] Sara McRae, “The Lindsay Clancy Trial: Women Are Revealing Truth,” Substack, August 2026.

The post Same, Lindsay: The War on Motherhood appeared first on Founders Ministries.

– Charlie Kirk

Charlie was a man who knew exactly what he was doing. He got up earlier than us, worked harder than us, and slept longer and better than any of us. He made more friends than any of us. Not just the number of friends but the kinds of friends. He was a coalition builder. A rare philosopher, theologian, evangelist, statesman. The kind of man the world needs more of. The kind of man that makes enemies.

Charlie knew what he was doing and he understood the stakes. When asked about his opponents, Charlie said abortion would draw a crowd but that the monomaniacal opposition came from those in the transgender movement.[1] He died answering a question about transgenderism.

I pastor a church in Greenville, South Carolina. Like many pastors, I was not terribly familiar with Charlie before he was shot. That soon changed. Never was there a better purpose for YouTube than the viral distribution of Charlie’s many college campus encounters in the days following his death. By the end of that week, I was grieving the loss of a kindred spirit.

This was not everyone’s response.

Charlie Kirk’s killing was the highest profile assassination in a generation, yet his assassination was also one of the most controversial events in recent memory—outside and inside the Christian community. For pastors, Charlie’s death was not a safe topic. A phenomena of cascading negative pressure moves from the nation’s headlines down to the pews. A commitment to conflict avoidance paralyzes Christians and pastors alike. But Charlie was killed for making trouble with evil in a rescue operation for sinners enslaved to the spirit of the age. How could we not identify with Charlie? In more ways than one, Charlie was not a safe Christian. He was controversial because he was faithful. Because he cared.

How could I make sure Charlie’s name would be not controversial among my congregation, but honored? How could I protect my congregation from being shamed into silence by so many negative headlines? How could we be a church that embraced controversy because we cared for sinners?

We prayed on Sunday. Charlie naturally came up in the preaching. And that following week I wrote our congregation with these seven reflections.[2] On the one-year anniversary of his death, this tribute holds up. Because Charlie’s name holds up.

As I began for my people, so I begin here on the theme that must not be taken for granted, the first basis for shameless identification with Charlie.

Charlie was my brother.

Peter admonishes persecuted Christians to resist the devil, “knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world” (1 Pet. 5:9). Which means no Christian suffers alone. That word, “brotherhood” is apt. It’s been one year since his murder. One year ago, Charlie was another man in my feeds. Today, I find in Charlie a brother in Christ who resisted the devil’s schemes; a brother whose suffering the Apostle commends so that I might be made strong.

For that reason, we should take it personally when we learn about Christians who are conflicted about his brutal assassination. When we do so we are in good company. Jesus wasn’t afraid to associate with His people. It is Jesus, who said to Saul on his way to kill Christians, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” (Acts 9:4).

Charlie was not afraid to associate with Christ, and we must not be afraid to associate with Charlie. Brother or sister, if you need to be in lockstep with every point, emphasis, and “vibe” to identify with Charlie, you wouldn’t identify with me, either. Charlie Kirk engaged his public service as an explicit Christian, with Christian aims, and with Christ on his lips. Let me be clear: He was one of us.

It is because Charlie is our brother that I’m writing this tribute to commend his life. Because of why he died—for his country, for his family, for me. Because of when he died—at age 31 and in this cultural moment. And because of where and how—his death is emblematic of what we’re up against as Christians and as Americans. When Charlie was shot in the neck, so were we. Someone who murders a police officer attacks the justice system. Charlie’s alleged killer attacked every American. But because Charlie wasn’t just promoting free speech, but speaking the Truth as a Christian, he died representing his brothers and sisters.

Charlie’s murder is the highest profile assassination in my lifetime, even since Robert Kennedy was killed in 1968. Rightly, this has our attention.

I’m forty-five years old. From church members my age and older, I heard, “I didn’t pay much attention to Charlie, but I wish I did.” But from several younger members, I heard of students who cried daily for over a week after Charlie’s death. Charlie had their attention already. Whether you are new to Charlie or well-worn in his feeds, be encouraged—be made strong—by Charlie’s life and death. I write to honor my brother and to strengthen you.

A bridge to reality in a world of lies.

It’s becoming old hat to say that we are in a crisis of institutional trust. And yet, for the young, it’s their only hat—lies from the government, the healthcare establishment, “the science,” and the schools—with much of the media carrying water for all of them.

In a culture where young people are told the day is night and the night is day, Charlie spoke plain truth, and he challenged us to do the same.

But then there was that tent on campus (or in our feeds) where Charlie said all kinds of outlandish things, like boys are not girls, sex is for marriage, marriage is a blessing, pornography is as destructive as it is evil, abortion is murder, DEI brings out the worst in all of us, and nations should prioritize their own borders and citizens over the notion of a global community. Boldly speaking truth at an open mic with the invitation, “Prove Me Wrong.” Boldly speaking with conviction because Charlie believed truth stands up to scrutiny. Because he believed they are true.

Charlie founded Turning Point USA as a college dropout to persuade a younger generation to embrace conservative ideas and ideals. If that sounds political, it is. It’s political because the truth about humanity—see the list above—has political consequences for which all Americans, including and especially Christians, are responsible. He was dissatisfied with how poorly politicians with the best ideas communicated those ideas to his generation. He set out to do better.

In a culture where young people are told the day is night and the night is day, Charlie spoke plain truth, and he challenged us to do the same. For example, he rejected that pronoun nonsense. He was right to do so, and some youth had a better ear for it than many adults whose livelihoods and reputations were tied up in keeping appearances with a lie.

Charlie called evil “evil” and good “good” (Isa. 5:20). Charlie spoke the truth with conviction and compassion, and that act of courage gets you killed in this age of make-believe and lies (Jn. 8:44). History has no shortage of precedent to this trend, and Charlie’s boldness proves no difference.

A man humble enough to grow and change in public.

When Charlie founded Turning Point USA, he was 18. He was killed at age 31. As we all do in that run of years, Charlie changed. Not everyone changes for the good, but Charlie’s change was growth in the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ. Some tend to hide growth like this, but Charlie did so unwaveringly in full view of the public. Charlie grew in his conservativism, from a more libertarian outlook that saw Christian conservative priorities as a liability, to a man who saw the foundations of all truth rooted in Scripture.

In short, he became more explicitly Christian—more confident, more compassionate, more fierce, more creative, and more insightful as to the relationship between the foundation of his faith and the foundation of everything else. He also grew in his zeal for the lost Christ came to save.

Even as he grew in Christlikeness and boldness in his proclamation, he only gained more friends. Several of my own friends knew Charlie well. The reports in the news are consistent with their accounts—Charlie was the real deal. And yet the reports from unbelievers in the news are hard to distinguish between the reports from Christians. They say the same thing—about his faith, his character, his sincerity, his love.

A skilled evangelist who risked scorn to rescue the lost.

Charlie was a bridge to reality, but also to heaven. “Let’s make heaven crowded,” he’d say. This ambition is the measure of the value he placed on the people in front of him. He did the work of an evangelist to win souls to Jesus. He was courageous because of Christ. He cared about what people thought because he cared about them. He did not need their approval. But for Jesus’ sake, he did want their ear.

Charlie understood—as he often told us—that politics flows from culture and culture flows from our religious life, the spiritual of which is most important.

How is this possible for a man so deeply involved in political discourse? Watch Charlie and find out. Perhaps we are too accustomed to politicians who use Christianity and pastors who neglect politics. In the vein of Christian giants like Francis Schaeffer, Charlie understood—as he often told us—that politics flows from culture and culture flows from our religious life, the spiritual of which is most important. Over and again, with sincerity and skill, Charlie spoke the good news about Jesus in ways that were both plain yet tailored to the soul standing before him.

Charlie listened, defined terms, and sought common ground. He revealed inconsistencies and assumptions with good questions. He granted the best interpretation of people’s motives and told them so. He dignified his opponents and silenced crowds that mocked. He also mocked the insufferable when they demanded it. He got better at all of this over time.

Again, as it was for Schaeffer, there were no “little people” to Charlie. And no little topics. For the Christian does not see in “bits and pieces,” but the whole—which is why Charlie could speak about public policy in one breath and the resurrection in the next.

Western civilization is the fruit of a Christian foundation for law and culture, family and human government. Everything in creation gives us a chance to speak about where we came from (creation), why creation groans (sin), and where it’s all going (Christ or condemnation).

We have all seen confessing Christians led away from Christ by fashionable political doctrines. Marxist categories for humanity, change, and the future quickly erode the foundation of a professing Christian’s faith. But Charlie knew conversions work in the other direction, too. The truth about men and women, humanity and family fit the world we’re in, the souls we have, and the Scriptures that explain it all.

A good man in an age of androgynous man-childs.

Charlie’s manner of life commended his message. He was a family man—a husband, and father. He knew what a man is, and that he knew what a woman is. Just as important to being a real man, Charlie was willing to tell the difference between men and women in public. He did all of this in an age that insisted that men and women are interchangeable—that women can do anything that men can do and that men can do anything women can do, including have a baby.

The bar for being a “good man” is low for men in public life, testifying to how dangerous public life can be. Yet as Charlie matured, married, and had children, he showed us what it can look like to be a normal guy living a good life—and, thus, the good life. Charlie was a good husband, his wife’s sweetness and smile are proof of that. Erika beamed to introduce her husband, and yes, some people just naturally glow. But Scripture tells us that the glory of a wife is her husband and in the Kirk’s marriage, you could tell (1 Cor. 11:7). Charlie was a good father, shown in part by the fact that we don’t know his children’s names and haven’t seen their faces. They were his, not ours.

A defender of the weak in the belly of the beast.

The two topics he engaged more than any others at his campus events: abortion and transgenderism. Two topics he was ready to address. Why? Because no two topics represent the needs of the vulnerable more than these. No two topics concern greater matters of idolatry or justice in our own day. Add to this the subject of race and justice, the problems with aspects of civil rights legislation of the 1960’s, affirmative action, and DEI. These too are matters of justice that concern the vulnerable—just not in the ways we have been told a thousand times.

Why engage these on the college campus rather than just on X or a podcast? Charlie went straight to the source knowing the most fertile ground for these grotesque ideas was the academy. He went where the bad ideas germinate; a context extracted from the real world but whose ideas eventually sprout and hit the streets. Charlie was famous for saying that “college is a scam.” I haven’t heard all that he had to say on the matter. He drew attention to the obscene costs of higher education. But also, to the cost extracted from individuals and families in the liberalizing and radicalizing of our young. If Christian families were concerned about the liberalizing force of secular college education forty years ago, how much more today?

Which leads me to a final commendation.

A man twice vindicated.

Charlie died with a mic in his hand under a banner that said, “Prove Me Wrong.” Charlie’s assassin proved Charlie right. Quite literally, Charlie was right that free speech is under attack. His manner of death vindicated his mission in life. On September 11, 2001, we were attacked by an enemy from without—Islam. On September 10, 2025, we were attacked by an enemy from within.

Charlie earned his enemy in this world. His assassin stands no chance in this life, and neither does he in the next apart from the Lord Charlie confessed.

The response to his death doesn’t reveal the difference between Christians and unbelievers—not in my feeds. Rather, his death has revealed the difference between Christians and Americans on the one hand, and Marxists on the other, including plenty who name Christ. A willingness to kill or put up with violence in order to silence speech is a telltale sign of this ideology’s hold even on unknowing subjects.

All true Americans commend fierce public debate, whether they like a man’s ideas or not—full stop. All true Christians find strength and solidarity in the “brotherhood throughout the world” (1 Pet. 5:9). Marxists and those imbibing Marx’s ideas rejoice in political violence. Be assured reader, this is our national disease. An ominous Marxist mood advances, an emerging cancer with a bias to violence. If it sounds ridiculous to your ears, just think of all the people we know who die of sicknesses they didn’t know they had until it had long progressed. Our disease has not yet killed us—not yet.

But Charlie is vindicated in another way. The Sunday after Charlie’s murder I preached a sermon with this point, death’s iron gates cannot and will not prevail against the Church. And so we say with the psalmist,

O LORD, how many are my foes!
Many are rising against me;
many are saying of my soul,
“There is no salvation for him in God.”

Arise, O LORD!
Save me, O my God!
For you strike all my enemies on the cheek;
you break the teeth of the wicked.

Salvation belongs to the LORD;
your blessing be on your people! —Psalm 3:1, 7–8

The lion may sink his teeth into a brother in a tent with a microphone, but the Lord breaks the teeth of the wicked.

Charlie earned his enemy in this world. His assassin stands no chance in this life, and neither does he in the next apart from the Lord Charlie confessed. Neither do you. Neither do I.

What’s next? We do exactly what got Charlie killed. We speak and invite everyone else to do the same.

The next time you’re embarrassed about what someone might think of you … Remember Charlie.

Don’t care about what people will think about you. Care about what they think because you care about them. Care about them more than they care about themselves, a posture that has its risks.

Yes, pray for your enemies. But first, be willing to earn them.

[1] This insight as well as the opening quote comes from Charlie’s interview with Doug Wilson on Man Rampant in the months before he was killed. April 17, 2025 “How Young Men Elected Trump.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bL4DxMZXNIA.

[2] This article is adapted from a piece originally published for the congregation at Heritage Bible Church in Greer, South Carolina. “’Earn Your Enemies’: For Charlie, For My Church.” September 19, 2025. https://heritagegvl.com/earn-your-enemies-for-charlie-for-my-church/.

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The present hour calls for more theorists and practitioners to take up the task of explicating robust articulations of Christian love and duty applied to each of life’s concentric spheres. This short volume has but scratched the surface of the wide-ranging implications of the themes of ordered love from the home to the ends of the earth. But just as preaching without application is lifeless, so too is a study of love without practical exhortation. This author would be remiss without appending to the preceding discussion a series of terse, practical exhortations.

First, the faithful Christian must embrace biblical tensions to live well. At the time of this writing, my wife and I are expecting our fifth child. As our family continues to grow, those who know us well are aware that we have faced acute challenges as a young household—not only as biological parents but also as adoptive parents. The tension between natural affection and gracious, freely chosen love is no abstract matter in our home. Each day reminds us that nature and grace are not neatly disentangled. Just as by grace we have been grafted into the natural branches of God’s family (Rom. 11:17–24), so too have we grafted our oldest child into our natural family. Each day, we must choose not only to cultivate natural affection but also to practice sacrificial Christian charity, given unconditionally in the midst of conflict and the lingering effects of deep trauma. Frequently, we relive the failures of others and their tragic consequences. Frequently, we ourselves fail. Yet the Lord has taught us much. We have seen how the failure of popular Christian leaders to rightly form believers in the importance of natural affection has harmed adoptive families. In recent decades, many evangelicals have been sold an idealized view of adoption that minimizes its challenges, offers superficial theological arguments in its favor, and leaves Christian parents unprepared to navigate the tense dynamics between biological and adoptive children. At the same time, we have also learned that to live and love only along natural lines—which are at times the paths of least resistance—is to miss out on some of the richest aspects of God’s empowering grace. But why would we expect anything different from God’s design for us? Is it not fitting that we who, contrary to our sinful nature, have been adopted into the family of our Father should also be called to live in such a way that we both give and receive self-giving love—not only with our natural kin but also with those who are, by nature, different from us?

Regardless of our stations in life and our distinct vocations, each of us is called to embrace the difficult task of harmonizing natural and spiritual obligations. Whether we struggle to balance family and ministry, domestic and international missions, or cultural engagement and evangelism, the simple biblical truth is that each of these areas of responsibility makes real claims upon the Christian. Sometimes the answers are straightforward; those with disordered households, for instance, have no business leading others in ministry. But ironically, it is when a relative degree of Christian obedience is achieved in each of these spheres that the believer faces the most complex array of overlapping claims upon his attention. This is a feature, not a flaw, of faithfulness. In some sense, the ideal of a perfectly balanced life in every season is farcical. Christian obedience more often means waking early to invoke God’s blessing on the day, putting one’s hand to the plow of daily duties without looking back, and going to bed tired. As the saying goes, men are like trucks—they drive straighter with a heavier load. Of course, Scripture condemns frantic activity and commends the restfulness of faith (Ps. 127; Heb. 4:9–10; Matt. 6:25–34). We are to be more like Mary than Martha (Luke 10:38–42). Yet, in general, the godly life is the strenuous life. And part of the strain of Christian obedience comes from the many distinct obligations laid upon the believer in each sphere of life. We must embrace this strain rather than flee it in disobedience.

Second, we must reject pietistic idealism. Piety, rightly understood, is essential; the classical virtue of pietas entails not only loyal devotion to the divine but also to one’s fathers, country, and customs. Pietism, however, takes what is vital—true godliness—and turns it inward, severing it from its fruit. It insists upon detachment from temporal callings, disinterest in worldly affairs, and indifference toward created goods, promoting a conception of the Christian life that is almost exclusively “spiritual.” For the pietist, there is no problem for which more prayer and Bible study are insufficient remedies. At best, this impulse regards evangelism as the sole Christian solution to worldly disorder—yet even evangelism is reduced to a narrow set of steps for the salvation of the soul and escape from the present age, rather than the authoritative proclamation of Christ’s lordship over every sphere of human life. The result is a mindset that drifts toward gnostic contempt for the body and aversion to the political, exalting the spiritual and ecclesial as though they were the only domains of true significance.

We will not love well until we embrace the eternal as well as the earthly nature of our mission.

Over and against such retreatism, Scripture commends a proper worldliness. We are not to be worldly in the sense of being given over to sin or enthroning anything above the Lord in our hearts, but we are to be worldly in the sense of receiving and savoring God’s blessings, acting in our neighbor’s best interest both eternally and temporally, and recognizing the goodness of God displayed in the material. The pagan enemies of the early church were confounded by the witness of Christians not on account of their soaring rhetoric or rigorous exposition but their care not only for their own poor but even the heathen poor.^[1] The unbelieving, idolatrous philosophies of the world may invent religious traditions that plunge into carnality, or cults that flee from earthly existence altogether, but only the faith of the incarnate Son of God enables a heavenly minded life of earthly good. We will not love well until we embrace the eternal as well as the earthly nature of our mission.

Third, the church must embrace the variegated nature of individual callings. Paul’s teaching on the many members of the body of Christ (1 Cor. 12:12–27) compels us to acknowledge a wide range of emphases among sincere believers. Yet despite the abundance of resources on spiritual gifts, evangelicals often struggle to welcome differing approaches to Christian engagement. For some, politics are to be avoided; for others, public policy is essential. In many quarters, evangelism and missions are idolized, and all sorts of earthly goods are effectively sacrificed on their altar. Some retreat from the academy, the arts, or civic discourse into the sphere of evangelism and missions; others seek to shape culture while making disciples. Still others incline more toward mercy ministries in the community, the preaching and programs of the local church, or the ordinary labors of the home. Just as not every member of the body can be a mouth or an eye, neither can every Christian be equally engaged in the same form of ministry. Such variety is not only permissible but vital if Christian witness is to extend into every sphere of life.

The church must extend this grace to institutions as well as individuals. Congregations, denominations, classical Christian schools, for-profit ventures, lobbying groups, publishers, media networks, and missions agencies should not be expected to share the same priorities. The fact that one group of Christian citizens may pursue particular ends in one sphere does not mean they have forsaken the primacy of the Great Commission. The scattered church in the world is more like an orchestra—different sections producing harmony, tension, and resolution—than a group of identical instruments playing the same note. Christians, then, should resist prejudicially dismissing one another’s labors toward various temporal and eternal goods. For example, the church in the West may rightly direct united effort toward evangelizing the many peoples from the Global South arriving on its shores, while at the same time affirming the legitimacy and necessity of believers in the civic realm who advocate for sound immigration policy aimed at preserving cultural continuity. Because God exercises both a sovereign will of decree and a moral will of command, we often see providence accomplishing multiple purposes through single events. Mass migration, for instance, may represent both a strategic evangelistic opportunity (Acts 17:26–27) and a form of national judgment (Deut. 28:49–50). Wise living requires us to acknowledge such nuances and to discern, according to capacity, need, desire, circumstance, and calling, where our energies are best invested.

To speak of Christian living—or of Christianity itself—apart from love is a contradiction in terms.

Much of the content in this book was first presented in lecture form to a local church. Afterward, one listener posed a perceptive question: “What is your goal?” The study of the order of love and its place in Christian life and mission can be pursued from many motives—some noble, others less so. Yet the burden of the preceding material should be clear: Each faction of the Christian community needs the others. The family-centric members of Christ’s body described earlier require the missionary zeal of their counterparts, and those devoted to outreach and global mission must be reminded of the call to build sturdy marriages, children, and institutions at home. This relationship is not merely corrective but reciprocal and reinforcing. The most fruitful missionaries may well be those who preach, disciple, plant churches, and train leaders with the same zeal and courage that mark a godly culture-builder laboring for righteousness in civic life. In turn, those focused on the family and the nation must see their story within the broader sweep of God’s plan for all nations, knowing that their labors are not in vain (1 Cor. 15:58). It is ever the strategy of the enemy to divide, but it is the will of the Spirit that God’s people, exercising distinct callings, should strive side by side for the advance of the faith (Phil. 1:27).

Let us heed the final clarion call to restore our home churches to sustain missions abroad. Where the church has historically prospered in free nations rooted in Christian principle, missions movements have emerged to carry forth the gospel. But where the church has been beleaguered, marginalized, or systemically persecuted, churches focused on their own survival typically lack the capacity to pool resources and send gospel workers abroad. If we love the world—and we must—then our greatest service to its evangelization may be to fortify the foundations of Christian families, healthy congregations, and free, Christian societies from which missionaries can be commissioned and sustained.

Through the years, many have pondered John Piper’s profound pronouncement that missions exists because worship doesn’t.^[2] But it is also true in another sense that missions exists because worship does. When God’s people faithfully and fearfully worship the triune God in spirit and in truth, walking in obedience out of gratitude for His all-sufficient grace, the natural overflow is joy carried to the nations. Likewise, when the fruit of Christian love is borne in proper order, we may prayerfully expect that our charity will extend beyond our immediate circle of influence. Our capacity as creatures is limited, but God’s is not. The one who multiplied a few loaves and fishes to feed the multitudes is able to redeem the ordinary loves of people and place and deploy them as His harvest among the nations. To speak of Christian living—or of Christianity itself—apart from love is a contradiction in terms. In a world of chaotically disordered affections, where what is vile is celebrated and what is good is bent inward on itself, recovering the order of love is essential to our mission. It is by this that all nations will know we belong to Christ (John 13:35). Let us, then, follow our order to love.

^[1]Consider the complaint of Julian the Apostate that “it is disgraceful that, when no Jew ever has to beg, and the impious Galilaeans [Christians] support not only their own poor but ours as well, all men see that our people lack aid from us”: Julian, “To Arsacius, High-Priest of Galatia (Letter 22),” in Letters. Epigrams. Against the Galilaeans. Fragments, trans. Wilmer Cave Wright, Loeb Classical Library 157 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1923), 71.

^[2]John Piper, Let the Nations Be Glad!: The Supremacy of God in Missions (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010), 35.

This article is an excerpt from Ordered to Love: Recovering the Order of Affections from the Home to the Ends of the Earth (Founders Press, 2026) by Alex Kocman. Available to order now from founderspress.org

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Knowledge is the eye which must direct the foot of obedience . . . the knowledge of God’s will is not enough without doing it.

—Thomas Watson^[1]

The afternoon of June 25, 1876, was a desperate moment for Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer. Although he had begun the Battle of the Little Bighorn with ambitions of a swift victory that would restore his reputation and strike a decisive blow against the gathered Native American tribes, those hopes had been dashed when he discovered that the opposing force was far larger than anticipated. Custer split his regiment into several battalions, expecting a quick strike to scatter what he thought was a smaller foe. He was wrong. Instead, he now faced overwhelming numbers, cut off from reinforcements and pressed on every side. Surrounded by Lakota and Northern Cheyenne warriors, he had no choice but to fight to the death.

Had he followed his original orders to coordinate with the larger U.S. Army columns under Generals Alfred Terry and John Gibbon, this predicament could have been averted. In that case, his name would likely have been lost to the pages of time. But because of his crucial miscalculation, dividing his regiment and underestimating the enemy’s strength, his name endures. His error cost him the battle now remembered as Custer’s Last Stand at the Little Bighorn, memorialized in textbooks and the American psyche as a stark example of hubris against impossible odds.

It is true, in both war and life, that simply knowing one’s marching orders is no replacement for tenacious, faithful obedience. The same holds true in the Christian walk. Christians in the developed world enjoy abundant resources unpacking the historic, literary, and linguistic context of Scripture’s commands. But knowing those marching orders is not the same as obeying them. As the Puritan Thomas Watson aptly put it, “knowledge is the eye that must direct the foot of obedience.”^[2]

This volume has considered the order of love. Charity necessarily extends through concentric spheres of influence, moving from what is nearest and radiating outward, due to our natural human limitations. But for the Christian, love is also ordered in another sense: It is issued as an imperative. Failure to embrace the duty to love, according to Scripture, is to lose the plot of the Christian faith altogether. Benevolence without beneficence is empty sentiment. So what are the Christian’s marching orders, and how are we to exercise our call to love in each sphere in a biblical manner that avoids the many counterfeits of the world?

Failure to embrace the duty to love, according to Scripture, is to lose the plot of the Christian faith altogether.

The Necessity of Love

The love of God. Before any social loves come into play, the order of love presses the love to God as the highest duty (Matt. 22:37–38). Zeal for the name, fame, and glory of God must be our highest pursuit because it is God’s own highest pursuit (Isa. 48:11; Hab. 2:14; Ezek. 36:22–23; John 17:1; Rom. 11:36). John Piper’s famous thesis that “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him” is true.^[3] This loving satisfaction in the total sufficiency of God, unlike our other social loves which often involve benevolent action, is fully a complacent love in the sense that it rejoices in the goodness and beauty of the beloved, resting in what is most pleasing. The Christian is not only duty-bound but created entirely for the love of God and love for God. Before a Christian can consider his obligations to his neighbor, he must first delight himself in God and place Him highest in his affections. To speak of personal, intimate devotion to God in this way is simply the plain requirement of Scripture and the ultimate purpose for which the believer is brought into saving union with Christ.

This stands in marked contrast to the self-absorbed therapeutic religion of modern evangelical subculture, which reduces worship to emotional climax, preaching to self-help, and prayer to mindfulness. This same narcissistic culture is fond of referring to Christianity as “a relationship, not a religion,” but its inward gaze is neither capable of satisfying the believer’s true longing for self-forgetful awe at the majesty of God nor filling him so as to overflow in love for others in the world. It is not far removed from the “In the Garden” piety of previous generations that maintained more of the forms of traditional worship (hymnody, conservative aesthetics, and so forth) but bears more in common with the Anabaptist quest for inner light than true, experiential communion with the living God.

True piety boldly, fearfully, and joyfully approaches God by the Spirit, through the Son, as an adopted child to a loving Father, awestruck by His holiness, confessing sin, receiving pardon, and in gratitude drawing near to Him in adoration of His essential goodness, power, beauty, love, and infinite worth.

The love of spouse. Besides one’s relation to God, the relationship with a husband or wife will likely be his or her most intimate one. Even before the curse, it was “not good” for Adam to be alone (Gen. 2:18). Faithfully navigating one’s marriage is so essential to upright Christian living that it figures prominently in every list of biblical qualifications for church office (1 Tim. 3:2, 12; Titus 1:6). Marriage is crucial in that it depicts the very relationship between redeemed humanity and our Lord Himself (Eph. 5:32). Husbands are commanded to exercise love toward their wives in the form of tender affection (Col. 3:19), sober rule as head (Eph. 5:23), self-sacrificial service (Eph. 5:25), compassionate understanding (1 Peter 3:7), generous provision (1 Tim. 5:8), and intimate enjoyment (Prov. 5:18). Wives, in turn, are instructed to show their husbands love through respectful submission (Eph. 5:22, 24), ready assistance (Gen. 2:18), quiet conduct (1 Peter 3:1–2), gentle nurture (Titus 2:4–5), willing intimacy (1 Cor. 7:3–4), and supportive industry (Prov. 31:10–31). Carrying out these marital obligations willingly and well may require decades to achieve, but a lifetime of blessing is its yield.

Today, numerous and formidable obstacles confront Christian husbands and wives. The pervasive pornification of culture sets stumbling blocks before both men and women at virtually every waking moment. Egalitarianism disrupts the head-body dynamic of husband to wife, straining relationships and distorting nature. Feminist presuppositions and economic forces drive women into the workplace, complicating or displacing motherhood and placing masculine burdens upon them. These same feminist ideals encourage women to be catty, vain, loud, and unsubmissive, while driving men into their own vices of passivity, weakness, tyranny, abuse, or neglect. To navigate marriage with even a remotely traditional mindset—much less in an explicitly Christian manner—is to cross a treacherous minefield of spiritual, financial, and emotional perils. Yet cross we must, for, as Scripture testifies, “He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord” (Prov. 18:22). There is no greater temporal gift this side of eternity by which we may taste deep joys, grow in Christlikeness, and behold the manifold wisdom of God than a godly marriage. As Luther said, “There is no more lovely, friendly, and charming relationship, communion, or company than a good marriage.”^[4]

There is no greater temporal gift this side of eternity by which we may taste deep joys, grow in Christlikeness, and behold the manifold wisdom of God than a godly marriage.

The love of family. Contrary to modern conceptions of marriage that focus almost exclusively upon its partnership and companionship aspects, its fundamental nature is inescapably procreative (Gen. 1:28; Mal. 2:15). Children are not accidents of nature but blessings from God (Ps. 127:3–4) and uniquely dear to the heart of the Lord (Matt. 18:2–5; 19:14). Children are to be cherished (Ps. 127:3–5), instructed in truth (Deut. 6:6–7; Eph. 6:4), disciplined patiently (Prov. 13:24; Heb. 12:7), protected from harmful influence (Matt. 18:6), guided to maturity (Prov. 22:6), given an inheritance (Prov. 13:22), and included in the life of the church (Matt. 19:14). A Christian man must have faithful and obedient children in order to qualify as an elder (1 Tim. 3:4–5; Titus 1:6). If his household is marked by obstinance or unbelief, he is thereby disqualified from exercising leadership in the church.

Today’s Christian families face a paradoxical challenge from culture at large; our society at the same time opposes children and idolizes youth. With one hand, secular and leftist forces advance abortion on demand, ubiquitous contraception, sexualization of minors, childhood genital mutilation in the name of gender ideology, and population control measures; with the other, they promote chaotic, child-centric permissive parenting techniques, endless extracurriculars, perpetual adolescence, and a naïve outlook that venerates youth subculture. These agendas, though seemingly contradictory, form a two-edged sword wielded against the traditional Christian household, motivated by animus towards the imago Dei. Added to all this is the perverse instinct on the part of evangelical thought leaders writ large to characterize any renewed emphasis on the household as teetering dangerously on the edge of idolatry. To the contrary—it is the time for more Christian love and order in the home, not less. Committing to love one’s family well in the present age is not a retreat from the wider fray to the sphere of the domestic but enlisting in the very war for the cosmos.^[5] The adage that charity begins at home is not far from the mark. We cannot make disciples of all the nations without making disciples of our own children. God forbid that we would gain the world but lose our families through our own neglect or disordering of priorities. Evangelism and missions begin at the dinner table.

Christian duties with respect to the family extend beyond one’s spouse and children. The fifth commandment applies equally to adults as to children in the home, and its application concerns honor not only to parents but to all superiors. Paul expected extended family to care for widows (1 Tim. 5:3–4, 8, 16). This differs starkly from the idea that all elder care should be outsourced to professional care facilities or that the state should serve as the primary social safety net for the needy. A biblical view of the family is not limited to the so-called nuclear family but bears implications for how one engages all of one’s relatives. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were not just patriarchs of a modest household of three or four but served as lords for their clans and extended family networks. To rebuild a robust Christian presence throughout society will require integrated, anti-fragile Christian families and tribes ruled by godly men of gravitas and enriched by faithful women who together fruitfully exercise godly dominion over themselves, their households, and their entire spheres of influence to the glory of God.

The love of friends. A neglected realm of discussion in Christian treatments of love concerns friendship, or voluntary relationships of mutual affection. A good friend covers offenses (Prov. 17:9), loves at all times (17:17), and sticks closer than a brother (18:24). When he rebukes, he does so in love (27:5–6). Ruth and Naomi, David and Jonathan, and Paul and Timothy are just a few of the biblical duos whose companionship speaks volumes concerning the blessing of such brotherly and sisterly bonds. Jesus Christ regarded the disciples not only as His subordinates but as His dear friends for whom He laid down His life (John 15:13).

Here too the biblical ideal finds itself under attack. Modern technology isolates and alienates individuals across social strata. Social media conceals the growing loneliness epidemic under the thin veneer of online engagement, a counterfeit for authentic relationships. Algorithms silo human interactions along ideological lines, leading each user deeper into his own echo chamber and withholding the grace of mutual edification. Confused young persons longing for simple companionship fall prey to the siren song of the sexual revolution, embracing perverse and fictitious identities and behaviors out of a longing for acceptance. And in some corners of the church, outward religiosity impedes authenticity, resulting in superficial friendships that fall far short of the biblical ideal of loving fellowship. Friendship is not a distraction to the church’s mission or its call to love the stranger but is vital to its strength for the task. The solution to these social ills is found not only in the healing love of God but in the mediating gifts of godly fraternity and sisterhood. Men in particular are forged in solidarity with other men contending together in a shared cause—fighting alongside one another in foxholes, whether literal or metaphorical. This sense of tribal solidarity is tragically rare, especially given the broader societal diversity and inclusion agendas that limit masculine affinity groups in many sectors. Yet the church today will seldom find the strength to storm the gates of hell without the strength of bands of brothers striving “side by side for the faith” (Phil. 1:27) and virtuous women co-laboring for the gospel (4:3).

The church of Jesus Christ is not an interruption in the flow of history nor a parenthesis in the purposes of God.

The love of the church. Contrary to the claims of some theological systems, the church of Jesus Christ is not an interruption in the flow of history nor a parenthesis in the purposes of God. From the moment the first gospel promise was issued in Genesis 3:15, there existed a community composed of those who embraced the word by faith. This assembly of people in covenant relationship with God—small or great, gathered or scattered—is the key supporting character in the redemptive arc spanning both testaments. This church exists both globally, or invisibly, as the community of all the elect, and locally, or visibly, in particular congregations sitting under the preaching of the word of God and right administration of the sacraments. Christ loved and died not for humanity in the abstract but for a particular people—His bride, the church (John 10:11; Acts 20:28; Eph. 5:25; Titus 2:14).

Today, expressive individualism exacts a heavy toll on the corporate life of the saints. All too common is the view that relationship with Christ may be pursued in isolation rather than community. Contemplative piety and modern spiritualism conspire to downgrade the value of life together within the visible, local church. Public regard for institutional religion continues generally to plummet, though trends among Generation Z men show early signs of hope. And within the church, pragmatic ecclesiologies treat attendees as consumers of spiritual products rather than souls knit together by their mutual adoption into the communion of God. A robust doctrine of the church is the only antidote. Casual church attendance—or non-attendance—must be replaced by an eager desire to be counted among the saints each Lord’s Day. Consumerist attitudes must give way to a spirit of service and fellowship like that which marked the church in Acts 2, and self-centered spirituality must step aside for the sake of submission to qualified shepherds. The gathered people of God should make Jerusalem their chief joy (Ps. 137:6) and the saints their delight (Ps. 16:3). We must not neglect the assembling of ourselves together but gather all the more to approach the living God and edify one another as those who belong to the heavenly Zion (Heb. 10:24–25; 12:22).

^[1]Thomas Watson, The Lord’s Prayer, in A Body of Practical Divinity (1692; repr., Christian Classics Ethereal Library), https://ccel.org/ccel/watson/prayer/prayer.vi.html.

^[2]Watson, The Lord’s Prayer.

^[3]John Piper, Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist (Portland, OR: Multnomah Press, 1986), 287–88.

^[4]Martin Luther, quoted in Douglas Bond, “Reformation Romance: Love and Marriage—Luther and Katie’s Way,” Modern Reformation, September 1, 2017, https://www.modernreformation.org/resources/essays/reformation-romance-love-and-marriage-luther-and-katie-s-way.

^[5]Chris Wiley demonstrates this compellingly in C. R. Wiley, The Household and the War for the Cosmos: Recovering a Christian Vision for the Family (Moscow, ID: Canon Press, 2019).

This article is an excerpt from Ordered to Love: Recovering the Order of Affections from the Home to the Ends of the Earth (Founders Press, 2026) by Alex Kocman. Available to order now from founderspress.org

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Finney & Nettleton 

While Charles Finney’s revivalism came to dominate popular memory of the Second Great Awakening, Asahel Nettleton represented a continuation of the Calvinistic evangelicalism inherited from the First Great Awakening. More importantly, Nettleton’s conduct during the controversy over Finney’s “new measures” reveals the difficulty of maintaining pastoral faithfulness, doctrinal integrity, and Christian charity amid growing theological division. 

Charles Finney began his ministry under the care of the St. Lawrence Presbytery in western New York. Although ordained within Presbyterianism, he increasingly rejected central doctrines associated with Calvinism, especially original sin and total depravity. Finney even declined the opportunity to study at Princeton because of its teaching on depravity. Over time, he came to view traditional Presbyterian theology as an obstacle to genuine revival. His “new measures,” including the anxious bench and emotionally charged preaching, reflected this theological shift. Critics believed these methods confused true conversion with outward response and placed too much confidence in human methods rather than the sovereign work of the Holy Spirit. 

Among Finney’s critics, Asahel Nettleton stands out because he himself was a successful revival preacher. Influenced deeply by Jonathan Edwards and the legacy of the First Great Awakening, Nettleton preached extensively on sin, depravity, and the necessity of regeneration. Nettleton’s ministry demonstrated that revival could flourish without Finney’s innovations. He believed revival must remain grounded in doctrinal orthodoxy and careful pastoral oversight. Though he never employed the anxious bench or manipulative techniques, thousands professed faith under his preaching throughout New England. His preaching was doctrinal, experiential, and pastoral. Rather than seeking immediate professions of faith, Nettleton carefully distinguished between emotional distress and genuine conversion brought about by the Holy Spirit. Nettleton feared that Finney’s methods encouraged ministers to rely upon technique and emotional pressure instead of the ordinary means of grace and the sovereign work of God. 

New Lebanon Conference 

As Finney’s popularity grew outside of Oneida County, the need for action from dissenting ministers intensified. Nettleton’s dear friend Lyman Beecher and Finney’s close associate Nathan Beman organized a meeting of Presbyterian and Congregationalist ministers in New Lebanon, NY in July 1827. The meeting brought together Finney, Nettleton, Beecher, Beman, and other ministers to discuss the growing divisions caused by the new measures. By this point, tensions had already escalated through public letters and sermons. Finney accused his opponents of spiritual deadness, while Nettleton warned that Finney misunderstood true religion and was in danger of spiritual pride. 

The conference itself proved revealing. Finney’s popularity was rapidly growing, and many ministers were increasingly unwilling to oppose methods that appeared numerically successful. At New Lebanon, the disagreements became clear. The issue was not whether revival should occur, but what revival truly was. For Nettleton, revival was a sovereign work of the Holy Spirit producing conviction of sin and lasting transformation. For Finney, revival increasingly appeared connected to the proper use of means and methods capable of producing results. Nettleton feared these innovations would leave lasting damage upon American Christianity. 

If there was anyone to take Finney to task, it was going to be Nettleton. Though he was the most respected revival preacher of the old Calvinist persuasion, he remained largely silent during the proceedings. His silence was not indifference, but caution. This would prove to be a tactical mistake. Nettleton hoped to preserve peace within the church and still believed Finney might be corrected without creating a larger division among evangelicals. 

His concerns ultimately proved correct, but it appeared to be too late. Finney’s influence spread rapidly through Presbyterian and Congregational churches, while opposition to the new measures steadily weakened. Finney was influencing key ministers in various presbyteries, leading to seismic shifts in reformed churches in a short matter of time. Beecher, who during the conference told Finney that if he ever came to Massachusetts for a revival Beecher would, “meet you at the state line, and call out the artillery men, and fight every inch of the way to Boston.”¹ Only a year later, Beecher ceased publicly resisting Finney and ended up inviting him to preach at his church in Boston. 

Nettleton, however, remained committed to the Calvinistic evangelical tradition inherited from the First Great Awakening. Yet, since he was not the victor in this theological struggle, Nettleton faded into obscurity the rest of his life. His influence remained while he was alive, and he stayed faithful, but his legacy was not remembered. He has been dubbed by those who know him as the “Forgotten Evangelist.” We would do well to remember this Calvinist preacher of Revival. 

Lessons for Today 

What are we to make of this? Nettleton was one of the last significant voices opposing Finneyism. I believe there are some lessons we can learn. 

#1 Pastoral courage means speaking at the right time 

This might be the biggest lesson to learn from Nettleton. He knew the truth and defended it wholeheartedly, yet when it mattered most he failed to leverage his influence by speaking sufficiently to the issues at the New Lebanon Conference. There is a time to be quiet and a time to speak—we need God’s help and wisdom to know the difference. 

To be clear, although Finney was ordained into Reformed pastoral ministry, he eventually denied original sin, monergism, and penal-substitionary atonement. Finney’s doctrine was an all-out assault on historic protestant Christianity. This is to say nothing of his problematic “new measures.” 

We ought to have courage to call a spade a spade, whether that be the abortion clinic down the street, the errors of Rome, the compromise of the charismatic movement, or politicians who manipulate Scripture. 

We must be shepherds who tenderly guard our flocks, but we must also warn them of the attacks of the wolves. Courage often looks like standing against error. Nettleton can be credited with doing this. However, his error was that he did not speak at the most opportune time. We often think that to be charitable is to remain silent. But there is a way forward, where we are kind to our theological opponents, while being very clear on the danger they pose. 

#2 Pastoral courage means not purchasing peace at the expense of truth 

Nettleton was a very admirable churchman. His desire for unity in the churches came from good motivations. Yet, the peace he sowed allowed for Finney’s errors to go unchecked and to begin the slow process of evangelical churches abandoning their traditions steeped in the old Calvinism that Nettleton taught. Many of the churches Finney was allowed to preach in are no longer faithful to their original evangelical convictions. Even Finney’s flagship institution, Oberlin College, is no longer considered Christian in any meaningful sense. 

#3 Pastoral courage means fighting for the church’s future 

Pastors are watchmen and they have a duty to observe the rising tide of our culture before it becomes a flood. We must observe false teaching today to help the church in the future. Cowardice in the present will be costly in the future. We do not know Nettleton’s heart; Was he naive? Was he a coward? We cannot know. But we can safely say that he missed the opportunity that was presented to him. 

We must learn from Nettleton. Sometimes the right man speaks too little, and the wrong man speaks too much. Nettleton was far too gentle to Finney’s bombastic argumentation. Being a pastor sometimes means not allowing misdirected charity to prevent boldness. Fellow pastor, you may have sound doctrine, you may strive for peace, and you may love the church, but you must also be courageous for the truth. Nettleton opposed Finney’s error, but the question remains was he loud enough, clear enough, and soon enough in that opposition? Every generation of pastors will face this choice. Will we have public pastoral courage in our own day? 

1. “Finney, I know your plan, and you know I do; you mean to come into Connecticut and carry a streak of fire into Boston. But if you attempt it, as the Lord liveth, I’ll meet you at the state line, and call out the artillery men, and fight every inch of the way to Boston, and then I’ll fight you there.”, God Sent Revival, 178. Cited in Beecher’s Autobiography, 1.101.
   – Thornbury, John F., God Sent Revival. Darlington, UK: Evangelical Press, 1993.
   – Beecher, Lyman. Autobiography of Beecher. 2 Volumes. New York, NY: Harper & Brothers, 1865.  ︎

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In the previous post, we looked at Dr. Wright’s claim that Francis Turretin and Petrus van Mastricht believed in a “decline narrative” of the Middle Ages. This is true in one sense—they both believed the early church was purer than the medieval church. But this claim is also misleading when used to dissuade people from substantial reliance on medieval theology—something both Turretin and Mastricht did.

In this final post, I want to highlight two more points in Dr. Wright’s lecture that I believe lack necessary precision and context.

Calvin, Thomas, and the Reformed

Dr. Wright points to Calvin as an early Reformed writer who did not show much interest in Thomas Aquinas. Yet, as we have seen, this is because Calvin had no direct knowledge of Thomas, not because he knowingly rejected Thomas. But in contrast to Calvin, how did early Reformed theologians who did have knowledge of Thomas view the medieval theologian?

David Sytsma answers this very question in an essay on Reformed reception of Thomas. Martin Bucer (1491–1551), a former Dominican with great knowledge of Thomas, regularly affirms Thomas in his biblical commentaries and theological works.^[1] Johannes Oecolampadius (1482–1531) positively appropriated Thomas while writing biblical commentaries. Peter Martyr Vermigli’s (1499–1562) positive use of Thomas is well known and thoroughly documented on topics like predestination, providence, and anthropology. Girolamo Zanchi (1516–1590), a student of Vermigli, positively appropriates Thomas in all his works and even structured his massive work on theology proper in accordance with him.

In the previous two posts (Part 1, Part 2), we saw that both Calvin and Turretin use the category of “sounder scholastics.” This category probably originates with Bucer, who includes Thomas among the “sounder scholastics.” Vermigli does likewise and nearly states that Thomas is the greatest of the scholastics. Theodore Beza (1519–1605), Lambert Daneau (1535–1595), and Zanchi continue this trend.

Although Calvin did not show high regard for Thomas, his contemporaries, who had greater knowledge of Thomas, did. And these were no strangers to Calvin or fringe figures in the Reformation. Bucer and Beza were close acquaintances with Calvin. Vermigli was highly regarded by Calvin and occasionally shaped Calvin’s theology. Daneau taught in the Genevan Academy.

Recent scholarly work also shows that later Reformed writers continued in their consistent and intentional use of Thomas. Christopher Cleveland records how John Owen follows Thomas on pure actuality, infused habits, and Christology.^[2] Seung-Joo Lee shows where Franciscus Junius received and modified Thomas’s moral philosophy.^[3]Carl Trueman demonstrates that various seventeenth-century Reformed writers follow Thomas on theology proper, predestination, natural law, and ethics.^[4]

Considering this evidence, I think it is fair to say that Dr. Wright’s lecture suffers at three points. First, his picture of Calvin against Thomas emphasizes Calvin’s role in the Reformed tradition in a way reminiscent of the Calvin against the Calvinist thesis. Calvin was not the central or most important figure of the Reformed tradition.^[5] Second, because of that first point, Dr. Wright does not consider the large contingent of the Reformed tradition that was acquainted with Thomas and appropriated him consistently. Their writings severely undermine Dr. Wright’s argument. Third, consider these statements from Dr. Wright:

“Thomas’s theology is a system.” (The implication being that it cannot be appropriated piecemeal)

“Here’s my concern: In classical theism’s elevation of Thomas to almost the patron saint of orthodoxy, they’ve unwittingly opened the way for much more than Thomas’s doctrine of God proper to come into the evangelical stream of consciousness.”

“By elevating Thomas to almost canonical status, well-intentioned retrieval theologians may well have opened a floodgate that won’t be shut before many have abandoned Protestantism.”

Hyperbole aside, Dr. Wright seems to think that embracing Thomas on theology proper will inevitably lead to embracing Thomas’s conclusions on other undesirable doctrines (like the sacraments). Sadly, Dr. Wright never puts forward an argument to defend this point. He merely asserts it without showing a necessary connection between Thomas’s theology proper and his sacramentology or other heretical conclusions.

Furthermore, the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Reformed embraced Thomas on a wide range of topics well beyond “classical theism,” but they never departed from a Reformed view of justification or the sacraments. Thus, it is not merely against modern retrievalists that Dr. Wright argues, but against the greater lights of the Reformed tradition. 

Theology and Economy

One final point in Dr. Wright’s lecture that requires greater explanation is his ordering of theology in general. A main point in his lecture is “justification by faith alone and assurance of salvation are still central.” Unfortunately, this point is extremely muddled. Dr. Wright seems to have two theses under this heading: 1) overly speculative theology proper is bad and 2) Thomas got justification and assurance wrong. It is difficult for me to decipher the connection between these two points.^[6] Because the second point is largely unobjectionable, I would like to focus on the first.

Dr. Wright explains, “Those advocating a returning to classical theism and the Great Tradition of the church insist that we need to begin all things with God Himself, examining who He is ad intra, that is intrinsically to Himself, rather than with what God thinks about or how He acts towards creation—especially humanity ad extra.” And again, “This, they assert, is what the Nicene tradition, Augustine, Aquinas, Owen, and Turretin did.”

Here Dr. Wright correctly highlights an ordering among many retrievalists of theology (who God is) before economy(what God has done in creation). He cites John Webster and James Dolezal as two examples. Correct theological thinking, retrievalists say, must begin with God Himself and only then consider all other topics in relation to him.

Surprisingly, Dr. Wright bucks against this idea. He criticizes this ordering of theology and economy with another reference to Calvin, “Calvin did not include a lengthy discussion of theology proper in the institutes.” Unfortunately, Dr. Wright is quite unclear on this point as well. Is he criticizing the very practice of considering the doctrine of God in Himself as the foundation for all of theology? Or is he merely criticizing what he considers to be the overly speculative nature of Thomas’s doctrine of God? He appears to criticize both without distinction. In both cases, however, he misses the target.

First, his aversion to considering God in Himself as the starting point for theology is at odds with nearly the entire Reformed tradition. Consider how the Reformed doctrinal standards are organized. The French Confession (1559), Scots Confession (1560), and Belgic Confession (1561) all begin with chapters on theology proper. The Second Helvetic Confession (1536) begins with two chapters on Scripture and revelation, then turns to theology proper. These confessions, among others, represent the codification of Reformation doctrine, and each one considers God Himself (theology) before moving on to God’s works or to the gospel (economy).^[7]

The Baptists followed suit. The First London Baptist Confession (1646) begins with theology proper and The Second London Baptist Confession (1689) begins with Scripture followed by theology proper. The Baptist Catechism (1695), arranged by Benjamin Keach and based on the Westminster Shorter Catechism, emphasizes theology proper by swapping out the famous first question of WSC with questions that more explicitly highlight theology proper.^[8]

This practice in the Baptist standards accords well with the opening words of John Gill’s Body of Doctrinal Divinity,

Having undertaken to write a System of Theology, or a Body of Doctrinal Divinity; and Theology being nothing else than a speaking of God, or a discoursing concerning him; his nature, names, perfections, and persons; his purposes, providences, ways, works, and word: I shall begin with the Being of God, and the proof and evidence of it; which is the foundation of all religion; for if there is no God, religion is a vain thing; and it matters not neither what we believe, nor what we do; since there is no superior Being to whom we are accountable for either faith or practice.^[9]

Second, Dr. Wright does not define what he means by “speculative” doctrine of God, other than saying Thomas is speculative and Calvin is not. But again, Dr. Wright fails to consider that Calvin is not the central figure of Reformed or Protestant thought. That there is significant difference in style and purpose between Thomas (a high medieval theologian writing an academic work) and Calvin (a humanist with no theological training writing a popular work) is unsurprising.^[10] However, other Reformed figures do favor Thomas as much as Calvin when it comes to theology proper, such as Girolamo Zanchi, John Owen, Francis Turretin, and a host of other Reformed scholastics. It is not clear how Dr. Wright can reject Thomas’s “speculative” doctrine of God without rejecting theirs also. Here again Dr. Wright paints himself in a corner that echoes the Calvin against the Calvinist thesis (i.e., Calvin was a warm-hearted biblical humanist but other Reformed writers returned to cold scholasticism).

In summary, I believe Dr. Wright thinks that a speculative (or sophisticated) doctrine of God is incompatible with a “relational” view of God. As he says, “to move from Thomas to Calvin on the doctrine of God is to move from idea to relationship.” Yet, many Reformed theologians have faithfully combined scholastic consideration of God ad intra with Reformed soteriology and piety.

Concluding Thoughts

In the end, I believe this lecture by Dr. Wright was well-intended but tried to accomplish too much and, in doing so, lacked precision at crucial points. For instance, in a lecture so dedicated to criticizing positive use of Thomas, why not interact with his theology directly? Why rely solely on secondary sources? Without any serious interaction with Thomas, the tone of this lecture is largely a “see no evil” approach to the medieval theologian characteristic of what Mary Herrington recently dubbed “Thomophobia.” 

But Dr. Wright’s shallow handling of sources extends beyond Thomas to Reformed writers. His presentation of Calvin, Turretin, and Mastricht is a half-depiction of these great men that leaves out crucial data. Dr. Wright also ignores Calvin’s elders and contemporaries who are better guides on early Reformed reception of Thomas. 

Furthermore, Dr. Wright’s shallow interaction with sources continues to modern writers. He variously references James Dolezal, John Webster, Matthew Barrett, and Craig Carter, but he avoids substantial interaction with any of them. In doing so, he glosses over the noteworthy differences between them. By arguing with everyone in general, Dr. Wright argues against no one in particular. Combine this with Dr. Wright’s hyperbolic misrepresentation of his opponents: Are retrievalists really guilty of “elevating Thomas to almost canonical status” and the “elevation of Thomas to almost the patron saint of orthodoxy?”^[11] Such characterizations may be rhetorically powerful, but they are unserious and lack the precision that befits Christian academic disagreement.

Dr. Wright’s primary concern is valid: There is a way of doing retrieval theology that is bad. Sadly, I do not think he elaborates this concern in a precise or substantial way. Instead, he presents a superficial summary of both historic and contemporary literature and theology. Perhaps Dr. Wright will get a chance to fully develop his thoughts in future publications. If so, I look forward to reviewing his work and understanding him better.

^[1] The data in this paragraph and the next two is primarily taken from Sytsma’s essay. David S. Sytsma “Sixteenth-Century Reformed Reception of Aquinas,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Reception of Thomas Aquinas, eds. Matthew Levering and Marcus Plested (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2021), 122, 125.

^[2] Christopher Cleveland, Thomism in John Owen (New York: Routledge, 2013).

^[3] Seung-Joo Lee, Orders of Nature and Grace: Thomistic Concepts in the Moral Thought of Franciscus Junius (1545–1602)(Leiden: Brill, 2024).

^[4] Carl R. Trueman, “The Reception of Thomas Aquinas in Seventeenth-Century Reformed Orthodoxy and Anglicanism,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Reception of Thomas Aquinas, eds. Matthew Levering and Marcus Plested (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2021).

^[5] Carl Trueman writes, “it is too often assumed that Calvin’s theology has, or had at some point in the past, some kind of normative status within the Reformed tradition. This is historically and ecclesiastically not so. While it is certainly true that the writings of Luther enjoyed unique influence among Lutheran confessional communities, the writings of Calvin never occupied anything approaching such a position.” Carl R. Trueman, “Calvin and Calvinism,” in The Cambridge Companion to John Calvin, ed. Donald K. McKim (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 225.

^[6] If I understand him correctly, Dr. Wright relies on a quote from Michael Reeves to interpret Thomas’s “Aristotelian” doctrine of God as a non-relation account. However, Dr. Wright does not develop this thought beyond a mere quotation of Reeves.

^[7] The only significant exception to this pattern is the Heidelberg Catechism (1563), which was a catechism designed with a slightly different purpose than these confessions.

^[8] Orrick explains, “The Baptists were making plain a fundamental truth that the authors of the Shorter Catechism assumed could be taken for granted. Namely, all truth is founded on God and His character, and therefore any summary of Christian teaching must begin with God.” Jim Scott Orrick, A Commentary on the Baptist Catechism (Cape Coral, FL: Founders Press, 2025), 8–9.

^[9] See also James P. Boyce, who begins a fifteen-chapter exposition of theology proper with these words, “The fundamental doctrine of theology is that there is a God, for if this is not true, there can be no science of God. The first duty of theology, therefore, is to set forth the reasons men have for believing that such a being exists and is a true object of dependence and worship.” James P. Boyce, Abstract of Systematic Theology (Cape Coral, FL: Founders Press, 2025), 27.

^[10] Indeed, as Gordon writes, “Calvin would have hated the designation of his Institutes as a book of academic theology. That was precisely what it was not.” Bruce Gordon, John Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion: A Biography (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016), xiii.

^[11] Perhaps you can name certain persons who have done this (I know I can), but they are the exception to the rule and, thus, not a worthy target for Dr. Wright’s critique.

The post A Friendly Response to Dr. Wright Part 3: Thomas, the Reformed, and Theology Proper appeared first on Founders Ministries.

After arguing that Calvin did not hold Thomas Aquinas in high regard, Dr. Wright turns to the Reformed tradition to argue that a “decline narrative” of the Middle Ages extended beyond Calvin. The decline narrative simply says that the first six centuries of the church were purer than the corrupted medieval period, which was in turn corrected by the Reformation. Thus, the church Fathers through Augustine and the Reformation are the more important periods of church history when it comes to theological study and formulation. Dr. Wright suggests emphasizing these two periods (patristic and Reformation) can safeguard retrieval theology. He lists four figures who supposedly agree with the decline narrative. We will examine just two of them here.

Turretin and Mastricht

First on Dr. Wright’s list is Francis Turretin. Dr. Wright states,

In the seventeenth century, Francis Turretin highlighted the significance of the fathers of the early church going up to Augustine, but included no one after him. He referred to the first six centuries of the church’s history as “the period of purer (or at least less impure) Christianity.”

The first quote from Turretin arises from the question, Where was our church before Luther and Zwingli, and how was it preserved? Here are Turretin’s words with fuller context: 

Where was the papacy in the first six centuries of purer (or at least of less impure) Christianity? For although various errors began gradually to creep into the church, still it is certain that far more numerous and grievous errors were introduced in the following ages or received strength: the worship of images, transubstantiation, communion under one species, the infallibility and monarchy of the pope, the use of foreign language in the sacred service, etc.^[1]

Obviously Turretin highlights specific impurities in the medieval church that are associated with Roman Catholicism. But recognizing impurities in the medieval church is not the same as calling the medieval church irrelevant or unimportant for theological formulation—a conclusion which Turretin does not even address here. 

Later in the same question which Dr. Wright quotes, Turretin compares the popish church to Socinians and concludes that the Socinian error is worse because it “directly destroys the foundation of Christianity by denying the mystery of the Trinity and the divinity of Christ and the truth of his satisfaction.” On the other hand, the popish church “did not destroy the foundation formally by denying and opposing it, but by adding other things to it which were incompatible with it.” He concludes by asking, “who does not see that it is far easier to reject what exceeds by separating the true from the false, than to supply, not only what is deficient, but also what is rejected and attacked by any ministry?”^[2] In short, Turretin says the popish medieval church did not destroy the foundation of the church (the Trinity, the Incarnation, etc.) and that we are able to separate true from false in their doctrine. This is a far cry from teaching that the medieval period lost the truths of Christianity entirely or that it is less worthy of study (even though Turretin never diminishes his attacks on popish errors).

Next, quoting from another passage in Turretin’s Institutes, Dr. Wright says,

The Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century, [Turretin] argues, is nothing else than the purging of corruptions and errors wrought by the papacy into the doctrine of faith and practice delivered by Christ.

This quotation comes from Turretin’s question, Is the Reformed Church the True Church?^[3] However, I think Dr. Wright demands too much from this quotation. A recognition that the papacy wrought errors in the medieval church is not the same thing as dismissing the entire medieval church as unimportant or practically useless for theological formulation in the present. On the contrary, as Turretin himself says above, there was truth mixed with error in the medieval church.

This is precisely how Turretin approached a figure like Thomas Aquinas. Consider the following citations by Turretin.

• Turretin recognizes that “Thomas Aquinas aptly expresses” an aspect of the definition of “theology.”^[4]

• On providence, Turretin states, “Thomas Aquinas well remarks, it is essential to a first principle that it can act without the help or influence of a prior agent.”^[5]
  
• On another fine point of the doctrine of providence, Turretin notes, “The sounder Scholastics agree with us. Thomas Aquinas says . . .”^[6] Here Turretin refers to the “sounder scholastics” as Calvin did, but he clearly includes Thomas in their number.
  
• Still further on the doctrine of providence, Turretin references Thomas along with “Thomists” and “Dominicans” as whole categories that agree with the Reformed on a particular issue.^[7]
  
• Turretin cites Thomas with a bevy of other scholastics to criticize a certain Jesuit practice.^[8]
  
• Turretin quotes Thomas favorably alongside Durandus or Saint-Pourçain (1275–1332), a later Dominican, in his exposition of the ninth commandment.^[9]

• Turretin approvingly cites Thomas’s interpretation of verses like Romans 1:4, Hebrews 1:9, and 1 Timothy 3:16 to support his own interpretation of 1 Peter 3:19.^[10]
  
• Turretin positively quotes Thomas’s commentary on Romans while explicating justification apart from works.^[11]

This brief and incomplete survey shows that Turretin regularly cited Thomas positively on a variety of doctrines, from theology proper to justification, and from a variety of sources, such as Thomas’s Summa Theologica and his commentaries. To say that Thomas and medieval theology were insignificant for or not useful in theological formulation to Turretin is simply incorrect and only possible through misleading and cherry-picked quotations. Obviously Turretin disagreed with Thomas often, but he also agreed with him often. This is to say nothing of Turretin’s non-explicit allusions to Thomas or his informed and critical use of other medievals like Lombard and Durandus.^[12]Sadly, Dr. Wright distorts the image of Turretin by only highlighting Turretin’s affirmation of a “decline narrative of the Middle Ages” due to popish influence.

The next example Dr. Wright gives is Petrus van Mastricht. Dr. Wright states,

Petrus van Mastricht . . . also posited a decline narrative: “The New Testament marked the beginnings of the six pure centuries of the church’s history. The period from the sixth to the bleak tenth century was a rapid decline interrupted in the centuries before the Reformation only occasionally by reform movements like the Waldensians.”^[13]

Here again Dr. Wright mistakes (1) the fact that errors were introduced in the medieval church for (2) a devaluing of the usefulness of this entire era. Mastricht, like Turretin, does not make this claim. Also like Turretin, Mastricht cites Thomas regularly—both positively and negatively. One could create a survey for Mastricht like the one listed above for Turretin.^[14]

As you would expect, Mastricht’s use of Thomas and other medieval sources is sophisticated and precise. Adriaan Neele notes Mastricht’s positive use of both Thomas and Scotus, then writes, 

both are used in a critical way by Mastricht. This critical and positive use of the schoolmen is also noticed when Mastricht cites Anselm (1033–1109), Bonaventure, and Gabriel Biel (1425–1495) but especially when he refers to Bernard of Clairvaux. Contrary to this, Mastricht is rarely negative towards the schoolmen—the doctrine of transubstantiation excluded. Thus, Mastricht attests to a vast reservoir of medieval scholastic works, which he uses according to the ‘middle way’ of his scholastic method.^[15]

Dr. Wright gives the impression that Turretin and Mastricht were not particularly interested in medieval theology—that they would rather simply study the more important parts of history like the Fathers and the Reformation. But, considering this cursory survey of Turretin and Mastricht’s actual interaction with medieval sources, is it fair to summarize their views by merely stating, “they believed in a decline narrative?” Is that a faithful representation of their approach to the Middle Ages? Given Turretin and Mastricht’s sophisticated and near ubiquitous use of the medieval theological milieu—including Thomas—I believe Dr. Wright’s comments are misleading and present a superficial reading of these Reformed titans. Ironically, this kind of shallow interaction with great thinkers of the past is part of what drives young men to retrieval theology in the first place.

^[1] Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, trans. George Musgrave Giger, ed. James T. Dennison Jr. (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 1993), 3:59.

^[2] Turretin, Institutes, 3:68.

^[3] Turretin, Institutes, 3:142.

^[4] Turretin, Institutes, 1:2.

^[5] Turretin, Institutes, 1:503.

^[6] Turretin, Institutes, 1:510.

^[7] Turretin, Institutes, 1:530.

^[8] Turretin, Institutes, 2:72.

^[9] Turretin, Institutes, 2:130.

^[10] Turretin, Institutes, 2:360.

^[11] Turretin, Institutes, 2:641, 644.

^[12] For a recent study showing non-explicit influence of Thomas on Turretin, see Toni C. Saad, “Francis Turretin’s Thomistic Theory of Natural Law,” in Journal of Reformed Theology 16 (2022): 27–47.

^[13] I am not sure if this is a direct quotation or a gloss by Dr. Wright.

^[14] For instance, see Petrus van Mastricht, Theoretical-Practical Theology, trans. Todd M. Rester, ed. Joel R. Beeke (Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage, 2019–2024) 1:68; 2:414–415; 2:517–518; 4:466; 2:518.

^[15] Adriaan Neele, Petrus van Mastricht (1630–1706) (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 92.

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If you doubt me, you can find and read Brandon Sholwalter’s recent report¹ of lessons he has learned from the ten years he has spent covering the trans madness that is rampant in our world. It is devastating. It is also hard to read. But Christian families are not immune to the insidious LGBTQI+ movement. I have tried to offer hope and counsel to more than a few parents and grandparents who have seen their young family members taken captive by this agenda.

We must not close our eyes to the wicked reality around us. We must see it in the light of Scripture.

This plot has been forced on us in the name of the highest virtue. After all, “love is love.” Who are we to question anyone who does anything in the name of “love?” The most depraved perversions imaginable—including some that until recently were unimaginable—are being championed among us as expressions of love. This perverted love has resulted in men, women, boys, and girls being routinely mutilated in ways that just a few decades ago would have resulted in shocking headlines and demands that the perpetrators be punished to the fullest extent of the law. Today, those criminals have MD behind their names. They teach and practice medicine in prestigious medical centers where they are regarded as oracles and high priests of our dystopia. 

We have been forced to increase our vocabulary to keep up. We have long known of castrations and mastectomies but medical shamans have invented new procedures like “intestinal vaginoplasty” and “radial forearm phalloplasty” (look them up because your tax dollars have helped pay for them; or don’t and save that portion of your mind that has remained blissfully ignorant of the cascading debauchery being promoted in the name of science—and love, of course—in surgical theaters across our nation). To soften the assault on natural affections these surgical mutilations are euphemistically referred to as “top surgeries” and “bottom surgeries.” This language always reminds me of the “showers” in Auschwitz that the Nazis warmly commended in 1942. Hitler would be envious.

It is not just the medical profession that has promoted the mutilation fields of our modern mayhem, the dystopia is being undergirded by legal, educational, political, and religious systems as well. In fact, the ubiquity of “pride flags” draping everything from schoolrooms, city halls, pulpits, and restaurants to town squares, airports, and the White House demonstrates just how unbridled the LGBTQI+ depravity has become. 

This vile, demonic, body and soul-destroying agenda is one of the main planks in the Democratic Party Platform. Two pages of that sordid document (pp. 56-57) honestly explains their unbridled commitment to the destruction of our society in general and mentally broken people in particular in the name of equality, rights, and freedom. And, of course, they demand that you pay for it with your taxes. The commitment of the DNC to this wicked agenda is so unapologetically pronounced that anyone who supports any Democratic candidate for any office is guilty of promoting the mutilation of children. It may be done ignorantly but, make no mistake, those who vote for a Democratic candidate are supporting unbridled depravity. 

The Republican Party is not immune from this depravity. Though support of it has not been ensconced in their platform, the Log Cabin Republicans work tirelessly to normalize LGBT perversion (they currently stop short, at least officially, of listing QI+ in their endorsement). And don’t forget that President Trump said he was “honored” to be known as “the most pro-gay president in American history.” Though immeasurably better than the DNC, the GOP has not yet come close to renouncing the destructive wickedness of this movement. 

Much more could be said about the ways that the hellish LGBTQI+ dystopia is being supported and advanced across our society today, but what I am most deeply burdened about is the complicity of the one institution that bears the greatest responsibility and opportunity for stopping this holocaust. The church of Jesus Christ must awaken and honestly face the horrific realities of our day—realities that have incubated and given birth to the transgender movement. As a pastor I feel the weight of this burden and want my fellow pastors to feel it, too.

The church of Jesus Christ must awaken and honestly face the horrific realities of our day—realities that have incubated and given birth to the transgender movement.

Christians listened too long to feckless leaders who tried to convince us that “pronoun hospitality” (using a transgender person’s chosen pronouns, in the name of love, of course) is the Christian way to engage those who have been taken captive by the devil to believe that they are something other than what God created them to be. Pastors have been too timid to declare loudly and boldly that the emperor has no clothes. The result is that we are now living in a nightmare where children have been butchered in research hospitals by credentialed professionals who openly advertise their specialized services. To add insult to the vileness American tax payers have been forced to pay for these procedures and are also enticed to celebrate this vileness, intimidated to accept it, or at the very minimum to be silent about it. 

Jesus commands His church to “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all” that He commanded us (Matthew 28:19-20). God has blessed America through the effective ministry of His Word and Spirit within our borders from our inception as a nation. The gospel motivated those early pilgrims to settle in this land. The grace of God caused that gospel to run throughout the early colonies in the eighteenth-century Great Awakening preparing the way for the American Revolution and the national government that arose from it. The Second Great Awakening and the waves of revival that followed it in the nineteenth century helped humble our nation and preserve it leading up to, during, and after the costly Civil War. The twentieth century witnessed some early stirrings of God’s Spirit on the west coast and later on some college campuses, but these revivals—if they may be called that—were not nearly of the magnitude of those that preceded them.

The undeniable reality is that we are in desperate need of a powerful work of God’s Spirit in our day. Our prayer should be that of the sons of Korah, pleading with God, “Will you be angry with us forever? Will you prolong your anger to all generations? Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?” (Psalm 85:5-6). When we consider how un-discipled our nation is and how the church’s apathy and impotence have contributed to that, we should be humbled to the dust before our sovereign, loving Lord. Not only is our nation’s grievous sin an affront to Him, we must see that it is also His judgment against us. As the Apostle Paul explains, when people give themselves over to vile practices and approve such wickedness, it is because they have provoked Him to such a degree that “God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity.…to dishonorable passions….to a debased mind to do what ought not to be done” (Romans 1:24-32).

We must not close our eyes to the wicked reality around us. We must see it in the light of Scripture. The unbridle depravity of the LGBTQI+ movement destroys people and defies God. So we must speak and pray. We must refuse to be silent or even to soften the truth of this abominable agenda that is destroying lives. With love and pity we must not hide the righteousness of God’s law and the powerful, life-transforming grace of His gospel in Jesus Christ from those whose minds have been twisted into believing that they are something other than God has created them to be. We must also boldly warn those who actively insist or even passively allow transgenderism to be regarded as acceptable in our society. And we must ignore those who think themselves our betters who stand on the sidelines tsk-tsking such warnings as too political and straying from the gospel.

Finally, we must pray. We must fast and pray. For, ultimately, it is with God with whom we must do. Heaven is not indifferent to our plight. Neither is our sovereign Lord inactive. He is able and willing to revive His work in His world. He has done so repeatedly throughout history. He has done it in the brief history of this nation.

Habakkuk, that prophet who saw the increasing godlessness of Judah in the last part of the seventh-century BC, understood this. So must we. And with that prophet we should pray, 

O Lord, I have heard the report of you,

and your work, O Lord, do I fear.

In the midst of the years revive it;

in the midst of the years make it known;

in wrath remember mercy.

Habakkuk 3:2

1.  I am not linking to the report not because it is inaccurate or sensational but because the compilation of gruesome, vile practices that Sholwalter documents assaults the conscience. Christians are called to face reality with faith but admonitions like Colossians 3:1-2 must also be heeded. On the other hand, so must Ephesians 5:11-12.  ︎

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