Pyromaniacs

Music Appreciation

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Mon, 06 Apr 2026 22:44:00 +0000

by Phil Johnson

This item is adapted and expanded from a post I made in June of 2005, the first week I began blogging.

ric Satie is one of Darlene's favorite composers. He called some of his work "furniture music"—music not to be listened to, but to be played as background. That's what most music has become these days, but it was a radical idea in Satie's day.

Now, don't tell Darlene this, but Satie was a supremely aberrant individual. Look up the French word for "eccentric." Instead of a definition, they could simply put Satie's picture there.

Satie was born in the French harbor town of Honfleur in 1866 and died in Paris in 1925 (just nine days before my dad was born). So we're coming up on the 100th anniversary of his death.

How weird was he?

You get a little glimpse from the titles he gave to some of his own compositions: "Chilled Pieces," "Vexations," "Drivelling Preludes (for a Dog)," "Dried up Embryos."

Satie was Frank Zappa at least 75 years before anyone ever heard of Frank Zappa.

He wrote humorous notations, drawings, and puns in the margins of many of his compositions, intended as private jokes between him and the performer. When he learned of instances where the jokes had been shared with the audience, he wrote, "To whom it may concern: I forbid anyone to read the text aloud during the performance. Ignorance of my instructions will bring my righteous indignation against the audacious culprit. No exceptions will be allowed."

Satie lived alone in a room in Arcueil, France for 27 years. No one but he ever entered that room. At his death, friends discovered an unbelievable hoard of personal memorabilia, including a large collection of umbrellas, drawings he had made, letters he had collected, and dozens of previously unpublished works. The manuscripts of his compositions were all stuffed in odd places—such as the pockets of his trademark grey velvet suits and behind the piano (which, as it turned out, was covered with junk and cobwebs, revealing that he never used it in composing).

My favorite Satie item is his description of a typical day:

See if you can make any sense of this fragment from Satie's pen, found in an article titled "Ce Que Je Suis" ("What I am"), in the French Journal, Revue musicale S.I.M., (15 April 1912), p. 69. He coins the word pyrophony, which could be very useful. But I'm not sure what he is saying:

Everyone will tell you that I am not a musician.* [* See: O. Séré, French Musicians of today, page 138.] It's fair.

From the beginning of my career, I immediately ranked myself among the phonometrographers. My work is pure phonometrics. Whether we take the "Son of the Stars" or the "Pear-shaped pieces," "In Horse's clothing" or the "Sarabandes," we perceive that no musical idea presided over the creation of these works. It is scientific thought that dominates.

Besides, I have more fun measuring a sound than I have hearing it. With the phonometer in my hand, I work happily and surely.

What didn't I weigh or measure? Everything by Beethoven, everything by Verdi, etc. It's very curious.

The first time I used a phonoscope, I examined a medium-sized B flat. I have, I assure you, never seen anything more repulsive. I called my servant to let him see it.

At the phono-weigher an ordinary F-sharp, very common, reached 93 kilograms. It came from a very big tenor whose weight I took.

Do you know the cleaning of sounds? It's pretty dirty. The spinning is cleaner; knowing how to classify them is very meticulous and requires a good view. Here we are in phonotechnics.

As for the sound explosions, often so unpleasant, the cotton, fixed in the ears, attenuates them, for oneself, suitably. Here we are in the pyrophony.

To write my "Cold Pieces," I used a kaleidophone-recorder. It took seven minutes. I called my servant to let him hear them.

I think I can say that phonology is superior to music. It's more varied. The monetary return is greater. I owe him my fortune.

In any case, with the motodynamophone, a poorly trained phonometer can easily note more sounds than the most skilful musician will do, at the same time, with the same effort. It is thanks to this that I have written so much.

The future is therefore in philophony.

Erik Satie was a living example of the fact that even though sin has badly marred the image of God in man, the image is still there. We can see it clearly in the way fallen creatures, no matter how outré, are still capable of amazing creativity. I think our love for the beauty, humor, and artistry of creaturely creativity is also an expression of the imago Dei.

You'll be familiar with Satie's best-known work, "Gymnopédie No. 1." Enjoy:

Martyn Lloyd-Jones on John Knox

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Tue, 10 Mar 2026 22:17:00 +0000

Posted by Phil Johnson (ht: Mike Riccardi).

Click HERE to listen to this sermon excerpt from D. Martyn LLoyd-Jones.

hat was the sort of preaching you had from the Protestant Reformers. What kind of preaching? Prophetic preaching, not priestly preaching. What we have today, you know, is what I would call "priestly preaching"—very nice, very quiet, very beautiful, very ornate. Sentences turned beautifully; prepared carefully.

That's not prophetic preaching. No, no! What is needed is authority!

Do you think that John Knox could make Mary Queen of Scots tremble with some polished little essay? These men didn't write their sermons with an eye to publication in books. They were preaching to the congregation in front of them. They were anxious and desirous to do something, to effect something, to change people. It was authoritative. What was it? It was proclamation. It was declaration.

Is it surprising that the church is that she is today? We don't believe in preaching any longer, do we? You used to have long sermons here in Scotland. I'm told you don't like them now, and woe be unto the preacher that goes on beyond 20 minutes.

I was reading coming up in the train yesterday about the first principal of Emmanuel College in Cambridge. He lived just at the end of the 16th century. His name was Chatterton. He was preaching on one occasion, and after he preached for two hours, he stopped, and he apologized to the people. He said, "Please, forgive me. I've got beyond myself. I mustn't go on like this."

And the congregation shouted out, "For God's sake, go on!"

You know, I'm beginning to think that I shan't have preached until something like that happens to me. Prophetic, authoritative, proclamation, declaration. A preaching that didn't respect persons, that wasn't anxious to play to the gallery, or to the intellectuals wherever they may sit. And certainly not our modern idea of having a friendly discussion. Have you noticed it? Less and less preaching on the wireless programs. Discussions! "Let the young people say what they think."

How interesting! Let's win them by letting them speak, and we'll have a friendly chat and discussion. We'll show them that, after all, we are nice, decent fellows, there's nothing nasty about us, and we'll gain their confidence. They mustn't think that we're unlike them. So of course, if you're on the television, you start by producing your pipe and lighting it. You show you're like the people—one of them.

Was John Knox like one of the people? Was John Knox, a matey? Friendly? Nice chap you can have a discussion with?

Thank God he wasn't. Scotland would not be what she has been for four centuries if John Knox were that kind of man.

And can you imagine John Knox going to have tips and training as to how he should conduct and comport himself before the television cameras? To be nice and polite and friendly and gentlemanly? Thank God prophets are made of sterner stuff.

And Amos. Or Jeremiah. Or John the Baptist in the wilderness—camel hair shirt. A strange fellow. "A lunatic," they said. "He's mad!" And they went and listened to him because he was a curiosity. And there, as they listened, they were convicted.

Such a man was John Knox, with the fire of God in his bones and in his belly. And he preached as they all preached—with fire, and power. Alarming sermons; convicting sermons; humbling sermons; converting sermons. And the face of Scotland was changed. And your greatest epoch in your long history came to pass. There, as I see it, were the great and outstanding characteristics of these men.

What was the secret of it all?

Well, it wasn't the men, as I've been trying to say, great as they were. It was God. God in his sovereignty, raising his men, and God knows what he's doing. Look at the gifts he gave John Knox as a natural men. Look at the mind he gave to Calvin. Look at the training he gave to Calvin as a lawyer to prepare him for his great work. Look at Martin Luther, that volcano of a man. God, preparing his men in the different nations and in the different countries.

And of course, before he even produced them, he'd been preparing the way for them. Let's never forget Wycliffe—John Wycliffe. John Hus. Let's never forget the Waldensians and all the martyrs of those terrible Middle Ages. God was preparing the way, and then he sent his men at the right moment. And the mighty events followed.

. . . . . . . .

The God of John Knox is still there, and still the same. And thank God, Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Oh, that we might know the God of John Knox.

Full message: "Scottish Reformation"
A sermon from D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones

"God has not called us to impurity but to sanctification" (1 Thessalonians 4:7)

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Wed, 28 Jan 2026 03:42:00 +0000

Posted by Phil Johnson

I'm often surprised and not a little shocked by the tone and flavor of some of the discourse on social media among people who self-identify as gospel-believing Christians. I'm not talking only about the annoying busybodies, false accusers, trash-talkers, and all-purpose haters. I'm thinking also of the people who routinely sprinkle their comments with obscene or profane language ("cuss words," as the idiom used to be known). They tend to be fiercely resistant to any criticism or correction of the practice. They think the casual use of salty language shows how "genuine," and "relatable" they are, and this somehow enhances the believability of their testimony.

Wait. Did I say "tone"?

In the evangelical districts of social media nowadays, if you try to correct a popular heresy or challenge some point in the new moral or political consensus, you'll likely be scolded about the inappropriateness of your "tone," no matter how carefully you express your concerns. But professing Christians commonly violate Ephesians 5:4 and Colossians 4:6 in the language they use, and most of their fellow believers don't seem to see anything seriously wrong with that tone.

Unbelievers aren't genuinely impressed by the foul language, either.

The subject matter of public conversations in evangelical forums is likewise often troubling for similar reasons. Professing Christians show a disturbing familiarity with the dark side of popular culture, and they talk about it—uncritically—with ease and enthusiasm. Our spiritual ancestors called that worldliness—a term hardly used anymore.

Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing—edification and debauchery. Suggest that these things ought not so to be (James 3:10), and you are certain to be labeled a legalist.

Spurgeon's words in the following excerpt are germane to this issue. Here's what he had to say:

he followers of the early Reformers were distinguished by the sanctity of their lives. When they were about to hunt out the Waldenses, the French king, who had some of them in his dominions, sent a priest to see what they were like, and he, honest man as he was, came back to the king, and said, "As far as I could find, they seem to be much better Christians than we are. I am afraid they are heretics, but really they are so chaste, so honest, so upright, and so truly pious, that, though I hate heresy—I hope your majesty does not suspect me on that account—yet I would that all Catholics were as good as they are."

Now, this was what made the gospel victorious in those days—the stern integrity of those who received it, and thus it will be still. It cannot be otherwise.

But if you become worldly, if you members of this church are just the same as other men who have no grace and make no pretensions, what is the good of your profession? You are liars before God unless you live above the common life of the rest of mankind.

Oh! to get back to the simplicity of Christian manners! I cannot go into particulars, and ordain that this you shall do and that you shall avoid, but you know very well what that simplicity is, and were it carried out there is a great deal that is now practised amongst professors that would have at once to be given up.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, "Good Earnests of Great Success," in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1868), 14: 173.

What Spurgeon Says Here Is Also Relevant to "Christian Nationalism"

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Wed, 21 Jan 2026 18:26:00 +0000

posted by Phil Johnson

hen an enterprise begins in martyrdom, it is none the less likely to succeed; but when conquerors begin to preach the gospel to those they have conquered, it will not succeed; God will teach us that it is not by might.

All swords that have ever flashed from scabbards have not aided Christ a single grain. Mahommedans' religion might be sustained by scimitars, but Christians' religion must be sustained by love. The great crime of war can never promote the religion of peace. The battle, and the garment rolled in blood, are not a fitting prelude to "peace on earth; goodwill to men."

And I do firmly hold, that the slaughter of men, that bayonets, and swords, and guns, have never yet been, and never can be, promoters of the gospel. The gospel will proceed without them, but never through them. "Not by might." Now don't be befooled again, if you hear of the English conquering in China, don't go down on your knees and thank God for it, and say it's such a heavenly thing for the spread of the gospel—it just is not. Experience teaches you that; and if you look upon the map you will find I have stated only the truth, that where our arms have been victorious, the gospel has been hindered rather than not; so that where South Sea Islanders have bowed their knees and cast their idols to the bats, British Hindoos have kept their idols; and where Bechuanas and Bushmen have turned unto the Lord, British Kaffirs have not been converted; not perhaps because they were British, but because the very fact of the missionary being a Briton, put him above them, and weakened their influence.

Hush thy trump, O war; put away thy gaudy trappings and thy bloodstained drapery; if thou thinkest that the cannon with the cross upon it is really sanctified, and if thou imaginest that thy banner hath become holy, thou dreamest of a lie. God wanteth not thee to help his cause. "It is not by armies, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord."

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, "Independence of Christianity," in The New Park Street Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1857), 3:335.

More from Spurgeon on Christian Nationalism and Other Pragmatic Church-Growth Strategies

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Tue, 20 Jan 2026 01:49:00 +0000

Posted by Phil Johnson

obody wonders that Mahometanism spread. After the Arab prophet had for a little while himself personally borne the brunt of persecution, he gathered to his side certain brave spirits who were ready to fight for him at all odds. You marvel not that the sharp arguments of scimitars made many converts.

Any religion will win assent when the alternative is conversion or instant death. Give a man a strong right hand and a sharp sabre, and he is a fit missionary of Mahomet's doctrine.

Our Saviour gave to his soldiers neither spears nor swords, but said, "Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." He asked no aid from governments, he disowned the temporal arm altogether as his ally. Had our Saviour been a State-churchman, and not, as he was, the grandest of nonconformists, it would have been said that under the wings of the State his church was fostered into power. If Cæsar had said, "I will gather thy children together as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings," it would not have been surprising if the brood of Christians had multiplied indefinitely.

But our Saviour sought no succour from potentates, and rested not upon an arm of flesh. The people would have made him a king, but he hid himself, for his kingdom was not of this world, therefore did not his servants fight.

Our Saviour as he used no force, so neither did he use any means which might enlist man's lower nature on his side. When I have heard of large congregations gathered together by the music of a fine choir, I have remembered that the same thing is done at the opera-house and the music-hall, and I have felt no joy. When we have heard of crowds enchanted by the sublime music of the pealing organ, I have seen in the fact rather a glorification of St. Cecilia than of Jesus Christ.

Our Lord trusted in no measure or degree to the charms of music for the establishing his throne. He has not given to his disciples the slightest intimation that they are to employ the attractions of the concert room to promote the kingdom of heaven. I find no rubric in Scripture commanding Paul to clothe himself in robes of blue, scarlet, or violet; neither do I find Peter commanded to wear a surplice, an alb, or a chasuble. The Holy Spirit has not cared even to hint at a surpliced choir, or at banners, processions, and processional hymns.

Now, if our Lord had arranged a religion of fine shows, and pompous ceremonies, and gorgeous architecture, and enchanting music, and bewitching incense, and the like, we could have comprehended its growth; but he is "a root out of a dry ground," for he owes nothing to any of these. Christianity has been infinitely hindered by the musical, the æsthetic, and the ceremonial devices of men, but it has never been advantaged by them, no, not a jot. The sensuous delights of sound and sight have always been enlisted on the side of error, but Christ has employed nobler and more spiritual agencies.

Things which fascinate the senses are left to be the chosen instruments of Antichrist, but the gospel, disdaining Saul's armour, goes forth in the natural simplicity of its own might, like David, with sling and stone. Our holy religion owes nothing whatever to any carnal means; so far as they are concerned, it is "a root out of a dry ground."

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, "A Root out of a Dry Ground," in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1872), 18: 569-70.

A Word of Explanation

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Sun, 18 Jan 2026 02:04:00 +0000

by Phil Johnson

ouTube and social media are full of AI-produced videos using John MacArthur's voice and image, making him say things that perhaps sound like something you might think he believed, but expressing opinions he never held and making statements he never made. There are dozens of these fake videos floating around, and I am asked about them almost daily.

My standard reply: "No, those are fake. If you want to be certain you are hearing something John MacArthur actually said; or if you are looking for a video or audio recording of John's that you can trust to be genuine, you'll find it at gty.org." If it doesn't come from gty.org or GraceChurch.org, I can't vouch for its authenticity.

Furthermore, any AI-produced recording that purports to express the views of John MacArthur is certainly fake.

Most of these are simply sensationalized mammon-grabbing click bait. They may not be maliciously expressing teachings or opinions contrary to what John actually taught, but they are created mainly for the purpose of increasing traffic and thereby generating ad revenue for their creators. They are virtually all produced anonymously or pseudonymously, and it is no easy task to get the traffic cops at YouTube or other social-media sites to take them down.

Some of the AI-generated videos of John might be produced for satirical or comedic purposes, but like the ones that are sheer click bait, they confuse unwitting readers and generate misunderstanding—and sometimes they spawn apocryphal tales and urban legends about John and what he taught.

A few years ago, the management team at Grace to You made this policy: We will never use AI to simulate the voice or appearance of John MacArthur, nor will we ever (even in jest) put words in his mouth that he has not said. That policy was strongly affirmed by John himself.

The policy was prompted by the fact that someone (not one of our staff members, but someone with some influence) had proposed making an app for smart devices that would offer AI-generated counseling and prayers for users in John MacArthur's voice.

John was never a fan of Siri or Alexa, and he certainly did not want to lend his face, voice, or personality to an AI-generated cyber-pastor or digital rabbi. The idea of an artificial John MacArthur saying fake prayers for people with real needs absolutely appalled him—perhaps even more than it appalled the rest of us.

That's why I'm not in favor of using AI to concoct quasi-theological debates between dead celebrities, either in standard language, Ebonics, pidgin english, Cockney rhyming slang, rap patois, or whatever. It's not merely that I'm a humorless boomer (true as that might be). It's because doing something in John MacArthur's name that we know with absolute certainty he would disapprove is no way to honor him.

It's not really funny, either, especially to those of us who knew and loved him.

I hope you understand, and I hope this is helpful.

Christ's Kingdom Is Not of this World

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Thu, 15 Jan 2026 22:59:00 +0000

by Charles Spurgeon
posted by Phil Johnson

he power and grace of God will be conspicuously seen in the subjugation of this world to Christ: every heart shall know that it was wrought by the power of God in answer to the prayer of Christ and his church. I believe, brethren, that the length of time spent in the accomplishment of the divine plan has much of it been occupied with getting rid of those many forms of human power which have intruded into the place of the Spirit.

If you and I had been about in our Lord’s day, and could have had everything managed to our hand, we should have converted Cæsar straight away by argument or by oratory; we should then have converted all his legions by every means within our reach; and, I warrant you, with Cæsar and his legions at our back we would have Christianised the world in no time: would we not? Yes, but that is not God’s way at all, nor the right and effectual way to set up a spiritual kingdom. Bribes and threats are alike unlawful, eloquence and carnal reasoning are out of court, the power of divine love is the one weapon for this campaign.

Long ago the prophet wrote, “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord.” The fact is that such conversions as could be brought about by physical force, or by mere mental energy, or by the prestige of rank and pomp, are not conversions at all. The kingdom of Christ is not a kingdom of this world, else would his servants fight; it rests on a spiritual basis, and is to be advanced by spiritual means. Yet Christ’s servants gradually slipped down into the notion that his kingdom was of this world, and could be upheld by human power.

A Roman emperor professed to be converted, using a deep policy to settle himself upon the throne; then Christianity became the State-patronized religion: it seemed that the world was Christianized, whereas, indeed, the church was heathenized. Hence sprang the monster of a State-church, a conjunction ill-assorted, and fraught with untold ills. This incongruous thing is half human, half divine: as a theory it fascinates, as a fact it betrays; it promises to advance the truth, and is itself a negation of it. Under its influences a system of religion was fashioned, which beyond all false religions, and beyond even Atheism itself, is the greatest hindrance to the true gospel of Jesus Christ. Under its influence dark ages lowered over the world; men were not permitted to think; a Bible could scarcely be found, and a preacher of the gospel, if found, was put to death.

That was the result of human power coming in with the sword in one hand and the gospel in the other, and developing its pride of ecclesiastical power into a triple crown, an Inquisition, and an infallible Pope. This parasite, this canker, this incubus of the church will be removed by the grace of God, and by his providence in due season. The kings of the earth who have loved this unchaste system will grow weary of it and destroy it. Read Revelation 17:16, and see how terrible her end will be. The death of the system will come from those who gave it life: the powers of earth created the system, and they will in due time destroy it.

Frequently do we meet with the idea that the world is to be converted to Christ by the spread of civilization. Now, civilization always follows the gospel, and is in a great measure the product of it; but many people put the cart before the horse, and make civilization the first cause. According to their opinion trade is to regenerate the nations, the arts are to ennoble them, and education is to purify them. Peace Societies are formed, against which I have not a word to say, but much in their favour; still, I believe the only efficient peace society is the church of God, and the best peace teaching is the love of God in Christ Jesus. The grace of God is the great instrument for uplifting the world from the depths of its ruin, and covering it with happiness and holiness. Christ’s cross is the Pharos of this tempestuous sea, like the Eddystone lighthouse flinging its beams through the midnight of ignorance over the raging waters of human sin, preserving men from rock and shipwreck, piloting them into the port of peace.

Tell it out among the heathen that the Lord reigneth from the tree; and as ye tell it out believe that the power to make the peoples believe it is with God the Father, and the power to bow them before Christ is in God the Holy Ghost. Saving energy lies not in learning, nor in wit, nor in eloquence, nor in anything save in the right arm of God, who will be exalted among the heathen, for he hath sworn that surely all flesh shall see the salvation of God. The might of the Omnipotent One shall work out his purposes of grace, and as for us, we will use the simple processes of prayer and faith. “Ask of me, and I shall give thee.”

Oh, that we could keep in perpetual motion the machinery of prayer. Pray, pray, pray, and God will give, give, give, abundantly, and supernatnrally, above all that we ask, or even think. He must do all things in the conquering work of the Lord Jesus. We cannot convert a single child, nor bring to Christ the humblest peasant, nor lead to peace the most hopeful youth; all must be done by the Spirit of God alone, and if ever nations are to be born in a day, and crowds are to come humbly to Jesus’ feet, it is thine, Eternal Spirit, thine to do it. God must give the dominion, or the rebels will remain unsubdued.

Charles H. Spurgeon, "Christ’s Universal Kingdom, and How It Cometh," in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1880), vol. 26, pp. 261–263.

Spurgeon on Christian Nationalism

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 03:25:00 +0000

posted by Phil Johnson

hen Mahomed would spread his religion, he bade his disciples arm themselves, and then go and cry aloud in every street, and offer to men the alternative to become believers in the prophet, or to die. Mahomed's was a mighty voice, which spake with the edge of the scimitar. He delighted to quench the smoking flax, and break the bruised reed; but the religion of Jesus has advanced upon quite a different plan.

Other forces, more mighty, but not so visible, have been employed to promote the sway of Jesus. Never has he invoked the secular arm, he has left that to Antichrist, and the seed thereof. No demand has been made by him upon human governments to patronise or enforce Christianity. On the contrary, wherever governments have patronised Christianity at all, they have either killed it, or else the infinite mercy of God alone has preserved it from extinction.

Jesus would not have the unbeliever fined, or imprisoned, or cut off from the rights of citizenship; he would not allow any one of his disciples to lift a finger to harm the vilest blasphemer, or touch one hair of an atheist's head. He would have men won to himself by no sword but that of the Spirit, and bound to him by no bands but those of love. Never, never, in the church of God has a true conversion been wrought by the use of carnal means, the Lord will not so far approve of the power of the flesh.

You do not find the Lord calling in the pomp and prestige of worldly men to promote his kingdom, or see him arguing with philosophers that they might sanction his teaching. I know that Christian ministers do this, and I am sorry they do. I see them taking their places in the Hall of Science to debate with the men of boastful wisdom; they claim to have achieved great mental victories there, and I will not question their claim, but spiritual triumphs I fear they will never win in this way. They have answered one set of arguments, and another set have been invented the next day; the task is endless; to answer the allegations of infidelity is as fruitless as to reason with the waves of the sea, so far as soul-saving is concerned. This is not the way of quickening, converting, and sanctifying the souls of men.

Not as a book of science wilt thou triumph, O Bible, though thine every word is wisdom's self! Not as a great philosopher wilt thou conquer, O Man of Nazareth, though thou art indeed the possessor of all knowledge; but as the Saviour of men and the Son of God shall thy kingdom come!

The power which Christ uses for the spread of his kingdom is exercised in conversion, and is as different as possible from compulsion or clamour. Conversion is the mysterious work of the Spirit upon the soul. That great change could not be produced by the fear of imprisonment, the authority of law, the charms of bribery, the clamour of excitement, or the glitter of eloquence.

Men have pretended to conversion because they hoped that a religious profession would benefit their trade, or raise their social position, but from such conversions may God deliver us. Men have been startled into thoughtfulness by the excitement which arises out of Christian zeal; but any real spiritual benefit they may have received has come to them from another source, for the Lord is not in the wind, or the tempest, but in the still small voice. That which is wrought by noise will subside when quiet reigns, as the bubble dies with the wave which bore it. Hearts are won to Jesus by the silent conviction which irresistibly subdues the conscience to a sense of guilt, and by the love which is displayed in the Redeemer's becoming the great substitutionary sacrifice for us, that our sins might be removed.

In this way conversions are wrought, not by displays of human zeal, wisdom, or force. "Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord."

Charles H. Spurgeon, "The Gentleness of Jesus." in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1873), vol. 19, pp. 702–703.

A letter from Mentone

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Sun, 04 Jan 2026 18:18:00 +0000

Spurgeon penned this letter from Room 14 at the Hôtel Beau Rivage in Mentone, France to the congregation at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, London. He traveled to the south coast of France almost every year during the winter months to escape the harsh London weather. Gout and kidney failure made him physically weak and kept him in constant pain. Compounding Spurgeon's physical miseries was the stress of the Downgrade Controversy, which had boiled over even into North America. Spurgeon had resigned from the Baptist Union a year previously, but the controversy still swirled around him because the majority of British Baptists were unhappy with the stance he took against modernism. It had been a difficult year. He would not return to London until late February of 1889. By then he had less than three years to live. He would die on January 31, 1892, in the same hotel room from which he wrote this letter.

Menton, December 1, 88

Dear Friends,

Although we have had two days of rainy and tempestuous weather, I have improved so greatly that I feel like the man who is described in Scripture as "walking, and leaping, and praising God" [Acts 3:8]. As I cannot quite manage the two former exercises, I desire to be doubly abundant in the third. Watts says,

"When we are raised from deep distress,
Our God demands a song;
We take the pattern of our praise
From Hezekiah's tongue."
That man of God on his recovery said, "The living, the living, he shall praise thee as I do this day" [Isaiah 38:19]. In that spirit I have prepared a sermon to which this note is appended; and I have borne therein my willing testimony to the faithfulness of God and to the certainty that he honors the faith of his people.

From the Tabernacle I hear joyful news of a meeting at which four or five hundred persons came together to confess that they have found mercy during the late services. What a cordial to one's heart! "Therefore we will sing my songs to the stringed instruments all the days of our life in the house of the Lord" [Isaiah 38:20]. Blessed be His name!

With my heart's best wishes for all my hearers and readers,

Their servant for Christ's sake,

C. H. Spurgeon

John Cotton

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Thu, 01 Jan 2026 23:38:00 +0000

posted by Phil Johnson

I wrote this piece as a foreword to Nate Pickowicz's edition of John Cotton: Patriarch of New England. It's an excellent, breif biography of America's first, and arguably greatest, Puritan.
For an affordable introduction to Cotton's works, I recommend Cotton's The Way of Life, published by the Northampton Press, edited by Don Kistler.
But if you want to dig deep, you absolutely must have this five-volume set: The Works of John Cotton, published by Soli Deo Gloria, and edited by Stephen Yuille.

mong the luminaries of the early Puritan era, none shines brighter than John Cotton. He possessed a remarkable array of spiritual gifts and academic accomplishments. He was a brilliant scholar, a master of the biblical languages, a skilled and perceptive theologian, a proficient writer, a powerful preacher, a tenderhearted pastor, a wise and sympathetic counselor, and an effective evangelist. He had lengthy ministries both in England and in colonial Massachusetts. On both sides of the Atlantic he managed to gain profound and lasting respect from friends and adversaries alike. His character and personality shaped the unique flavor of American Puritanism more than any other single influence. The very best qualities we see among the Puritans of early Massachusetts— their humble piety, their emphasis on sin and repentance, their strong work ethic, their sense of duty to God and community, and their love for Christ and Scripture—all are part of John Cotton's legacy.

During the first decade of the seventeenth century, John Cotton was a lecturer and catechist at Emmanuel College, Cambridge University (a Puritan training institution for pastors). Though he was highly esteemed for his eloquence and erudition, Cotton himself was not yet genuinely converted. A sermon by Richard Sibbes in 1609 truly awakened his heart to believe, and the transformation was immediate and obvious to all. The trademark eloquence of Cotton's lectures gave way to a simple but passionate style of gospel-focused preaching designed not to impress fellow scholars, but rather to awaken the consciences of his hearers. The need for sound conversion is one of the central themes that reverberates through all of Cotton's subsequent sermons and writings.

His fondness for gospel truth was both winsome and infectious. Wherever he preached, people were convicted and converted. A thoroughgoing Calvinist, he powerfully refutes the opinion of those who insist that the doctrine of election is an impediment to evangelism. He was a zealous and effective winner of souls. Just a few months after Cotton's ordination to the ministry in colonial Massachusetts, the First Church of Boston saw a wave of remarkable conversions that can only be termed revival. Governor Winthrop wrote,

It pleased the Lord to give special testimony of his presence in the church of Boston, after Mr. Cotton was called to office there. More were converted and added to that church, than to all the other churches in the bay. . . . Divers profane and notorious evil persons came and confessed their sins, and were comfortably received into the bosom of the church.

It is of course extraordinary that a renowned theologian, scholar, and long-tenured pastor of John Cotton's stature and age (he was nearly 50) would leave everything he knew in order to help establish a colony in the brutal frontier of the New World. How John Cotton came to Massachusetts is one of the central threads in the story of his remarkable life. You can't read any biographical account of John Cotton without noticing the amazing way Providence sovereignly directed this amazing spiritual leader into a role he might never have chosen for himself—and thus magnified his influence and his legacy through circumstances that would have seemed more likely to sideline him or bury his name in obscurity.

Cotton's legacy lives on. His life is instructive even today.

There are, for example, profound lessons about separatism and schism woven into John Cotton's experience. We learn from his struggle with the Church of England that cautious, biblical separatism (2 Corinthians 6:14-18; Revelation 18:4) is sometimes necessary. On the other hand, Cotton himself correctly believed that the schismatic mentality of those who think every disagreement and every error deserves a harsh anathema is destructive to the health and testimony of the church. Faithful believers need to foster both wise biblical discernment and a unifying love for the true Bride of Christ.

This is vividly illustrated not only in John Cotton's failed struggle to remain in and influence the Church of England, but also in his well-documented conflicts with Roger Williams. Williams was a strict separatist who refused communion with the Puritan churches of Massachusetts because they declined to condemn the Church of England as a synagogue of Satan. His views about the church, her purity, her unity, and her role in society set Williams bitterly at odds with John Cotton.

Both John Cotton and Roger Williams had valid points to make. For example, Williams alleged that the churches and the government of early Massachusetts afforded hardly more freedom of conscience than the Puritans themselves had been given under Archbishop Laud in England. The complaint was not far-fetched. The churches of New England had no problem letting the secular magistrates inflict punishments on people who were excommunicated over matters of conscience. Virtually all evangelicals today would have more sympathy with Williams's view on that point than with Cotton's.

But Williams was unquestionably too censorious, too sharp in his criticism, too prone to exaggerate others' flaws, too ready to impute ill motives to his adversaries, and too quick to break fellowship with men who gave every evidence of genuine faith in Christ and his Word.

Both men's shortsighted prejudices made their disagreement far more bitter than it needed to be.

One conviction that John Cotton is especially remembered for is his defense of Congregationalism. More than fifteen years before sailing for the New World, he had embraced Congregationalism, a system of church polity where each individual church, rather than the presbytery, is responsible for its own affairs. (New England Congregationalism is another key feature of Cotton's legacy.) In 1644, at the height of his conflict with Roger Williams, Cotton published The Keyes of the Kingdom of Heaven, an explanation and defense of Congregationalism. The manuscript was sent by ship to England, where it was published. John Owen, the most eminent of Puritan scholars, obtained a copy in order to write a critique, but upon reading the book, he was converted to John Cotton's point of view. Owen wrote,

In the pursuit and management of [Mr. Cotton's] work, quite beside, and contrary to my expectation, at a time wherein I could expect nothing on that account but ruin in this world, without the knowledge, or advice of, or conference with any one person of that judgment, I was prevailed upon to receive those principles to which I had thought to have set myself in opposition.

He then wryly added, "Indeed this way of impartially examining all things by the word . . . laying aside all prejudiced respects to persons or present traditions, is a course that I would admonish all to beware of who would avoid the danger of being made [Congregationalists]."2

It's a shame John Cotton and Roger Williams didn't take Owen's dispassionate approach to examining one another's views. The two were so different that it's unlikely that either would have fully embraced the other's position, but they certainly could have learned from one another.

That seems an important lesson for Christians living in the polemically charged atmosphere of the Internet age. It's one more thing we need to learn from the life and experience of John Cotton.

The only other significant misstep worth pointing out in the career of John Cotton is his early support for Anne Hutchinson and her followers. In the end, Cotton saw that although she claimed to be echoing his teaching, she had actually taken aspects of his teaching on grace to an unbiblical, antinomian extreme. He wisely distanced himself from the error and took the opportunity to clarify his views through careful teaching on the issues that were under debate.

The deep respect Cotton's contemporaries had for him was well deserved, and he also deserves much credit for the moral and biblical foundations that held colonial Massachusetts together from the time of the colony's founding well into the next century. I would argue that the Great Awakening of Jonathan Edwards' era represented a return to New England's spiritual roots—a harvest that sprang from seeds planted by John Cotton and watered by the next two generations of New England Puritans (including Cotton's son-in-law and grandson, Increase Mather and Cotton Mather).

One cannot make sense of early New England history apart from the Puritan influence that shaped that culture—and John Cotton is the key figure in understanding the doctrine, piety, and spirit of New England Puritanism. My hope is that this book will be an introduction for many readers into the rich spiritual history of early New England. May that in turn stir renewed interest in the great biblical truths that shaped the very embryo of American life and values—and (even more foundationally) the lives of the godly men and women who helped found this great nation.

More News on the Panhandling Imposter

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Tue, 30 Dec 2025 17:01:00 +0000

An update on the case of that fake "Reverend" Hobo
Posted by Phil Johnson

e got off:

SOUTHWARK.—THE CLERICAL IMPOSTOR—CAUTION TO THE BENEVOLENT.—John Elliot Hedlow, alias the Rev. Mr. Hedlow, alias the Rev. Mr. Norman, and a variety of other aliases, well-known to the public for many years, was brought before Mr. Á Beckett for further examination, charged with fraudulently obtaining the sum of half-a-crown from Mr. James Wood, a City missionary, under false pretences, by assuming himself to be an ordained minister of the Church of England. The prisoner has been well-known to the Mendicity Society as a clerical impostor for many years, and has been convicted four times at Marlborough-street Police-court, and other courts. He at times imposes on the public by writing on the pavements, and appeals to the benevolent for himself and starving family. The prisoner, hearing of the charitable disposition of the Rev. Mr. Spurgeon, of New Park-street Chapel, sent him a canting, hypocritical letter, describing himself as an ordained minister of the Church of England—that he had had a fall by connecting himself with a female—and that he had altered his views respecting baptism; also, that his wife died in a mad-house, leaving him with four children unprovided for. Mr. Wood gave him half-a-crown for his immediate use, and made arrangements to meet him on another day. In the meantime Mr. Wood ascertained the prisoner's true character from Horsford, of the Mendicity Society, who took him into custody. He was remanded from Saturday the 16th instant, to enable the Mendicity Society to bring further evidence.

The uncle of the prisoner, a gentleman of independent property, proved him to be a worthless character, but nothing was brought forward to show that the prisoner had actually obtained the half-crown by means of false pretences.

Mr. Á Beckett said that he really believed the prisoner to be a gross impostor, but he was surprised to find that sufficient evidence had not been brought against him. However, he believed that to be sometimes a difficult matter, especially with a confirmed impostor like the prisoner, whose letters he had seen, composed of falsehoods of the vilest description. He could not help it, but, under all the circumstances, he must discharge him from custody; but, at the same time, he hoped that the publicity given to his conduct in the public papers would put an end to his further impostures on the benevolent.

Not a Very Convincing Con, If You Ask Me

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Sat, 27 Dec 2025 23:07:00 +0000

A tale from the 25 June 1855 London Police Blotter

Posted by Phil Johnson

n June of 1855, Charles Spurgeon was just 20 years old. He had accepted the pastorate of the New Park Street Chapel just 14 months earlier, and his fame was already beginning to spread internationally.

For someone so young, he had gained an unusual amount of pastoral skill and wisdom from observing his father and grandfather (both pastors). He had also pastored a medium-sized congregation for a few years at Waterbeach before coming to London. But all his prior pastoral experiences were in small towns and rural settings. Spurgeon was still a bit callow when it came to discerning the schemes of Victorian con-artists who infested the squalid districts of London. He had a warm, generous heart and a passion to help London's teeming masses of needy and destitute people. He was well known for being always generous and charitable—but he was perhaps too gullible at times.

The following incident was reported in all the London newspapers.

SOUTHWARK.—A Clerical Impostor

JOHN ELLIOT HADLOW (alias the Rev. Mr. Hadlow, alias the Rev. Mr. Norman, alias the Rev. Mr. Hague), an elderly little man, dressed in a very shabby suit of black, with a dirty white neckcloth, and having a superfluity of bushy grey whiskers and a bald head, was charged with obtaining a half-crown* from Mr. James Wood, a scripture reader and distributor of the Rev. Mr. Spurgeon's charities, under false and fraudulent pretences.

Mr. Wood stated that Mr. Spurgeon had received a letter from the prisoner, which was of considerable length, setting forth his extreme poverty, and asking for relief. [Mr. Wood] was deputed to make inquiries about the prisoner. He called upon him at his address, and not finding him at home he wrote asking for an interview. At this meeting the prisoner told a long and melancholy story of his misery. He said his wife had died in a madhouse, leaving him with four children; that he was an ordained minister of the Church of England, but, in consequence of some connexion with a young woman, he had a fall, from which he had never been able to recover himself. Since then his views with regard to baptism were somewhat altered, and he left the Established Church. Witness, believing there was some truth in what he said, gave him half a-crown, and appointed to meet him again. In the meantime, however, he discovered his real character, and that all he had told him was false. At the second interview witness took with him Mr. Hereford, the Mendicity Society's officer, who at once recognised him as an old offender, and took him into custody.

From the statement of the clerk to the Mendicity Society, it appeared that the prisoner had been known as a clerical impostor for nearly 27 years, in which time he had been convicted 11 times at different police-courts, and he had been seen in the streets begging and writing on the pavement.

Mr. á Beckett, after perusing the letters written by the prisoner, said he was quite astonished that any one should be taken in by such letters as these. The obvious cant which the letters contained would have been sufficient to awaken suspicion in any mind. The prisoner had, however, been charged with fraud, and perhaps some other charges would be brought against him; he should, therefore, remand him.

* The purchasing power of a half crown would equal between $50 and $100 in 2025 dollars. It was a substantial sum to hand to a vagrant dressed in shabby religious garb.

Critic to Spurgeon: "You are a prodigious quack."

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Fri, 26 Dec 2025 23:11:00 +0000

Posted by Phil Johnson

CLICK HERE FOR FULL-SIZE IMAGE

Charles Spurgeon had critics who absolutely loathed him, and they spoke über-harshly to him—and about him—with such relentless ill-will that their words make most of the snark in today's social-media forums sound almost genial by comparison.
     Here is one such example, from an anonymous correspondent who evidently labored for hours to inject as much venom as possible into an open letter. This was published in London's Sunday Times—and carried in newspapers worldwide. This copy is from Melbourne, Australia.
     The year was 1861. Construction on Spurgeon's Metropolitan Tabernacle was finally complete and the congregation had moved into their new home with its famous 5,600-seat auditorium. (Standing room pushed the capacity to 6,000, and it was packed full from the very first service.) Spurgeon had been pastoring in London only seven years, and he was barely twenty-seven years old. His style of preaching was deemed too colloquial and too passionate compared to the stodgy vestment-wearing clergy who dominated the Church of England. When the following letter was published, Spurgeon had not yet preached his famous sermon against the doctrine of baptismal regeneration. That sermon would further—and permanently—elevate the ire of the Anglican establishment. But as this letter shows, there was already an undercurrent of contempt and condescension against Spurgeon from Englanders who equated religiosity with true religion.
     In short, Spurgeon's critics preferred the pomposity and pretentiousness of high-church formalism—and they tended to be rather ill-tempered about it. Spurgeon was regularly drawing capacity crowds of 9,000 or more to the Surrey Gardens Music Hall. Hundreds of converts were leaving the Church of England and attending worship services in non-conformist chapels. One suspects that underlying all this vitriol from Spurgeon's critics was a bitter strain of jealously that someone so youthful could preach with such power and see that kind of success.

THE BORDER WATCH, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1861

A DOSE FOR SPURGEON

A late writer in the "Sunday Times," under the signature of "Warder," addresses the Rev. Charles Spurgeon in the following terms, the style and power of which remind us of the classical Philippics of Junius:—

You are, I am told, to preach in your new monster Tabernacle this very evening. The huge place is built and paid for. I congratulate you. The achievement, considering your youth and your ignorance, is certainly astonishing. Some people predicted that you would fail in this gigantic undertaking: you have disappointed them. Some people predict that you will not be able to fill your chapel now that it is erected: I beg you will not listen to their croakings. Depend upon it: they badly over-estimate the intelligence, wisdom, and common sense of the generation! For years and years to come you may assure yourself there will be fools vast enough in London to make you a congregation vast as your vanity and mighty as your tongue.
For your chapel itself, it is ugly enough in all conscience! Big, to be sure, it is; but more unclassical it could hardly be. It has cost an enormous sum of money; but, then, deformity is always as expensive as beauty in this world. It will suit your worshippers admirably; and I suppose the devotions paid to you will be the chief carried on within its walls. There is nothing akin to religious taste in its aspect; it is a big, ugly staring vulgar profane place; and as such it will harmonize only, and too happily, with the kind of services over which you usually preside. Sir, your chapel is worthy of your genius and your fame.
I frequently meet with people who profess to be amazed at your popularity. Why should they? You work hard. You have an unlimited supply of tongue always at command. You never puzzle the brains of your hearers. Your sermons are well spiced. You are flippant, familiar, and, in a certain fashion, jocose. You are intolerant, dogmatic, and common-place. You revel in judgments. You are precise in all the details of perdition. You have scaled the heights of Heaven. You have fathomed the depths of Hell. You talk with Satan as a man talks with his friend. You talk with the Almighty as no man talks with his friend. You are the munificent patron of the Redeemer. You are the merry playmate of the Holy Ghost.
You are a wholesale and retail dealer in that famous and much sought after article—damnation. Your pulpit is a big brimstone warehouse.
You are one of the Clowns of the church, addressing immortal souls in a "here we are" sort of style. You never pause for a word, because words, in your estimation, are not sacred, and are very cheap. You have no care about religious properties. You own immeasurable quantities of brass. You are a prodigious quack. As you boast of having been told by a gentleman in the street, "you are a great humbug."
Now, these are all elements of popularity. Your gospel is a nostrum which you unlimitedly puff, and it has accordingly an unlimited sale. I see about the street every day, an ugly carriage, blazing with paint, brass and gold, in shape like a teapot; in decoration like a bawd; in character like a child's plaything. On it is the inscription "The Elixir of Life." I dare say you know it. It is a small-headed, big-bellied cannister on a truck.
I can well imagine the elevated complacency with which you gaze upon that carriage. For that carriage you are an impersonation. Your doctrines, you maintain, are the elixir of life. You drive about the street, a self-advertising medium. Children, women, and foolish men stop, stare at you as you go by, give a chuckle, as though they had beheld something very funny and pass on. But the elixir pays. The advertisement, however impudent, is not thrown away. Thousands go and buy the miserable compounds that you proclaim to be medicine of the soul, they give a good price for the article. To be sure it does not cure them of their moral infirmities; but you make the profit; and why should not all mankind be satisfied?
Illustrations cadger! I almost adore you. The facility with which you convert brass into tin is something to be admired in this age of money-hunting. You bring Omnipotence itself into your shop, and set it up behind the counter as chief salesman.
You beg and pray in the same holy name—the same unholy spirit. You sell your blessings as the priests of another sect used to sell their indulgences. You are the cheap-jack of the religious world; and you drive a roaring trade.
"So many Divine grains for so much! A dose of damnation and a pun for so much. Here you have a poke in the ribs of Ineffable for so much. What shall be the next article gentlemen? I will dance a heavenly hornpipe for so much! Jigs of grace are going at so much! The irresistible burlesque of redemption is now offered—who bids? The devices of the devil denounced for so much! Babylon exposed in a screech of bigotry for the smallest possible consideration! The doctrine of Salvation discounted at so much percent! Dishonored bills of conscience bought in to any amount! A case against any man's soul granted on the lowest possible terms! Sacred sneers by the dozen! Jibes of spiritual joy by the gross! Pay up stiff and prompt and I will pray for you! Whoso giveth unto Spurgeon lendeth unto the Lord: whoso giveth not unto Spurgeon shall be given over to the wicked one. Gentlemen, the chapel is paid for, and now it belongs to my friend Jesus."
Such, sir, is your boast one night. The next, you blow up your guests because the collection is a small one. Your congratulations are in God's name: so are your censures. You are like an Irish beggar in this respect. Give; and no benediction can be too gracious: deny; and no denunciation can be too withering! If you receive a donation, the promises of Heaven fall from your lips. If you do not, you find the threats of Hades just as easy!
To my mind, sir, your assumption of personal identity with the Great Jehovah is the most offensive feature in your entire character. With the zealots of your sect this vice is frequently too apparent, though I believe it is often most unconsciously indulged. In you it assumes most horrible proportions.
It is not the complacency of assured faith; but the swagger of egotism without culture—of audacity without conscience. Were it not for this, you would be a harmless amusement for ignorant people; as it is, I fear your influence must tend powerfully to bring religion into the contempt of all thoughtless minds.
The gospel is not a vulgar joke. Christianity is not a burlesque extravaganza. Faith is not a farce. Hell and heaven are not the words to be made the stock-in-trade of a vulgar punster. Salvation is not a quack remedy. Apostleship is not a merry-Adrewism. The sanctuary is not a play-house. But your prayers are profane gossip with God. Your comments on Scripture are the paltry gag of a low comedian. Your preaching is the religious nonsense of an improvisator. Your earnestness is impudence.
Your success is a national scandal.

CLICK HERE FOR FULL-SIZE IMAGE

PS: I found and colorized this photograph of a Victorian-era coach in Central London like the one described in the above diatribe. Turns out "The Elixir of Life" is sarsparilla.

CLICK HERE FOR FULL-SIZE IMAGE

"The Other People's Preacher"

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Tue, 23 Dec 2025 20:36:00 +0000

The following article is from The San Antonio Daily Light, 3 February 1892. It was published three days after Spurgeon went to heaven.

REV. CHARLES SPURGEON.

A San Antonian's Visit to the Great
Tabernacle—Extract From a
Personal Letter.

The recent death of the Rev. Charles Haddon Spurgeon, at Mentone, Italy, where he had gone to seek rest from his excessive labors, too late to repair the wastage of a most laborious life, invests with a fresh interest all that surrounds him and his work for the poor of London. The following description of Spurgeon's tabernacle is from the pen of an old resident of this city, two years since in London for his health, and will be of more than passing interest:

LONDON, England, Sept. . ., 18.

DEAR M.......

I have a few spare moments, and as I have just returned from Spurgeon's famous Tabernacle and was much impressed with what I saw and heard there. I will tell you all about it.

I took a cab at Charing Cross Station, where I am stopping, and in fifteen minutes after having paid [no doubt overpaid] the cabbie I found myself at the entrance of the great Tabernacle. I cannot give any correct idea of the exterior of the building, except that it is very ordinary looking and the brickwork somewhat dingy from long exposure to London smoke and grime.

As I entered a deacon hailed me [I knew he was a deacon. Why is that one never mistakes a deacon?] and asked me if I had a ticket, at the same time tendering me one. I was confused and put my hand into my pocket to respond to the rules of the Tabernacle as to price. When he saw my intention he said that there was no regular charge, implying as I thought an irregular one, but he was particular to say that I might put anything that I liked into the large box on my right, which of course I did. After this I felt relieved, as did also the deacon, for he smiled, but not in the San Antonio way, although I would not like to tempt him on a week day. Of course on Sunday it was not to be thought of.

I now thought myself at liberty to enter the races. I mean the race for a good seat. I finally picked out the best, and softest place that was handy, and as the services progressed took the following summary.

The room is oblong and evidently built for acoustic effects and large seating capacity, which latter I should say was about five thousand. There are two galleries running around the room, and the pulpit is on a level with the first gallery, the choir being just in front of the pulpit. I should think that there were one hundred choir boys, but the singing was of the most simple character and always joined in by the congregation.

By half past ten the Tabernacle was full, and those arriving after that were glad of standing room. All classes were there, but I thought the middle class the more numerous, and there were evidently many strangers. I was impressed that Spurgeon was the teacher of England in a popular sense. Mr. Spurgeon entered the room from the rear, accompanied by several other gentlemen, apparently connected with the church.

His theme was well chosen and his discourse of a character and so handled as to make him beloved by the common and lower classes. I did not notice many aristocratic faces, I suppose because Mr. Spurgeon is really the other people's preacher. And by the way, it seems to me a pity that preachers have to cater to classes. It was not so with the Great Preacher.

A gentleman on my left said that Mr. Spurgeon was not in very robust health, and no doubt his great load of responsibility and work was telling upon him. Of course everything was English from the pulpit to the pronunciation, but I left the church feeling that Mr. Spurgeon was a good man, and on the principle that it is better to be right than to be president, felt drawn to him. He impressed me as having a great heart, and a love for his fellows so strong that he felt called upon to better their condition, and there can be no doubt that the simple though fervid eloquence of Spurgeon has done more to raise the moral tone of London's poor and middle classes than any other one influence.

The Dear Old Man is nearing his end, so his friends fear. When he has gone his place will be hard to fill, both because of his own peculiar genius and power, and also because there are so few nobler and unselfish men in the world.

J. M. E.

Spurgeon on the Eternality of Hell

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Fri, 19 Dec 2025 19:12:00 +0000

posted by Phil Johnson

The following is an excerpt from sermon #669, "The Smoke of Their Torments," in Charles Haddon Spurgeon, The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, 63 vols. (Passmore & Alabaster, 1864), 10:670-71.

he Judge of all the earth cannot but do right. Though he is terrible and dreadful in his anger, as a consuming fire, yet is he still our God for ever and ever, full of goodness and full of truth.

There is a deep-seated unbelief among Christians just now, about the eternity of future punishment. It is not outspoken in many cases, but it is whispered; and it frequently assumes the shape of a spirit of benevolent desire that the doctrine may be disproved. I fear that at the bottom of all this there is a rebellion against the dread sovereignty of God.

There is a suspicion that sin is not, after all, so bad a thing as we have dreamed. There is an apology, or a lurking wish to apologise for sinners, who are looked upon rather as objects of pity than as objects of indignation, and really deserving the condign punishment which they have wilfully brought upon themselves. I am afraid it is the old nature in us putting on the specious garb of charity, which thus leads us to discredit a fact which is as certain as the happiness of believers.

Shake the foundations upon which the eternity of hell rests, and you have shaken heaven's eternity too. "These shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal." There is precisely the same word in the original. We have it translated a little more strongly in our version, but the word stands the same; and if the one be not eternal, the other is not. Brethren, this is a fearful thing. Who can meditate upon the place appointed for the wicked without a shudder?

Ungodly men affect to think we like to preach upon these topics. Far, far enough is it from being the case. I have had to censure myself of late for scarcely having preached at all upon them. They fancy that Christian men can look with complacency upon the torment of the lost, imagining themselves to be safe. They know not what they say. The very reverse of such a spirit is common among us. We shudder so much at the thought of men being cast away for ever, and horror takes so strong a hold upon us, that if we could doubt it, we would; and if we could disprove it altogether, we feel we should be glad. But we dare not attempt the task, because we know that it were to impugn the sentence of the Almighty, and provoke a quarrel against the Most High. Great Judge of all! thou shalt trample upon thine enemies in the day of thy wrath; yet shalt thou be as glorious in that act as when thou dost pardon sin, and pass by transgression.

Christian, look there, and, as thou lookest, rebel not, but say, “True and righteous art thou, O God; let thy name be honoured evermore!

Spurgeon on Funeral Reform

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Thu, 18 Dec 2025 23:20:00 +0000

posted by Phil Johnson

rior to the middle of the 19th century, burial of the dead usually took place in churchyards. These were small, often overcrowded burial grounds—especially those that got severely squeezed by urban development.

London in particular had this problem. The city was well known for the powerful stench that emanated from sewage in the Thames. Foul odors that wafted into the atmosphere from decaying bodies in shallow churchyard graves added to the fetid ambience of the city. Londoners believed the nauseating odor that hung in the air over their communities carried infection. "Bad air," known as the miasma, was commonly believed to be a major factor in the spreading of disease.

In Europe and America, city planners began to build rural cemeteries—parklike acreages located (at the time) well outside the city limits. London, for example, built seven expansive burial parks circling the city (dubbed "the Magnificent Seven" sometime in the 1980's). One of these was the West Norwood Cemetery, where Charles Spurgeon would be buried in early 1892.

Crowded cemeteries such as Bunhill Fields and most churchyard burial grounds within the city limits were closed by the Burial Act of 1852. Then during the 1854 cholera epidemic, a physician, John Snow, proved that the disease was not airborne; it was spread by contaminated water. Ground-water pollution was the result of poor management of London's sewage. Cesspools, slaughterhouses, and other sources of wastewater were draining into the aquifer, contaminating well water. That was the real culprit—not the air, and not old graveyards.

By the 1870s, England's Funeral Reform Movement had turned its attention to the extravagant costs and pretentious pageantry associated with typical Victorian funerals. These were lavish formal affairs with professional mourners (known as "mutes"), who followed ornate hearses festooned with ostrich plumes, carrying expensive coffins. Mourners were expected to wear formal clothing made of black crepe and march in procession to the burial. Burial monuments were often large, heavily ornamented stone structures. The cost of a "decent" burial could bankrupt a working-class family.

Funeral Reform activists lobbied and campaigned for more modest, less expensive, more simplified ceremonies. The movement soon became noisier and more aggressive, and they solicited Spurgeon's influence in support of their efforts. He replied in his typically elegant fashion, indicating frankly that while he was fully sympathetic with the cause, he did not want to be associated with the reputation or rhetoric of the movement. He gently suggested that the movement itself could use some reform.

This type of gentlemanly candor is one of the features of Spurgeon's style that I appreciate most. The Philadelphia Times (February 5, 1888), p. 2 carried his reply:

Anything which will lessen the foolish expenses of funerals and make them less pompous has my hearty approval, yet I cannot become an official, whether a patron or otherwise, for I think that this business also wants reforming, and that societies with committeemen who do nothing and patrons who know nothing about it are getting to be an evil. Wishing you every success in reforming away the absurdities connected with the burial of the dead, I am, dear sir, yours truly.

Regarding Predestination and Free Agency

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Wed, 10 Dec 2025 23:52:00 +0000

Spurgeon explains the principle of concurrence

Posted by Phil Johnson

any have failed to understand how everything, from the smallest event to the greatest, can be ordained and fixed, and yet how it can be equally true that man is a responsible being, and that he acts freely, choosing the evil, and rejecting the good.

Many have tried to reconcile these two things, and various schemes of theology have been formulated with the object of bringing them into harmony. I do not believe that they are two parallel lines, which can never meet; but I believe that, for all practical purposes, they are so nearly parallel that we might regard them as being so. They do meet, but only in the infinite mind of God is there a converging point where they melt into one. As a matter of practical, everyday experience with each one of us, they continually melt into one; but, so far as all finite understanding goes, I do not believe that any created intellect can find the meeting-place. Only the Uncreated as yet knoweth this.

It would be a very simple thing to understand the predestination of God if men were clay in the hands of the potter, and nothing more. That figure is rightly used in the Scriptures because it reveals one side of truth; if it contained the whole truth, the difficulty that puzzles so many would entirely cease. But man is not only clay, he is a great deal more than that, for God has made him an intelligent being, and given him understanding and judgment, and, above all, will. Fallen and depraved, but still not destroyed, are our judgment, our understanding, and our power to will; they are all under bondage, but they are still within us.

If we were simply blocks of wood, like the beams and timbers in this building, it would be easy to understand how God could prearrange where we should be put, and what purpose we should serve; but it is not easy—nay, it is difficult,—I venture to say that it is impossible for us to understand how predestination should come true, in every jot and tittle, fix everything, and yet that there should never be, in the whole history of mankind, a single violation of the will, or a single use of constraint, other than fit and proper constraint, upon man, so that he acts, according to his own will, just as if there were no predestination whatever, and yet, at the same time, the will of God is, in all respects, being carried out.

In order to get rid of this difficulty, there are some who deny either the one truth or the other. Some seem to believe in a kind of free agency which virtually dethrones God, while others run to the opposite extreme by believing in a sort of fatalism which practically exonerates man from all blame. Both of these views are utterly false, and I scarcely know which of the two is the more to be deprecated. We are bound to believe both sides of the truth revealed in the Scriptures, so I admit that, when a Calvinist says that all things happen according to the predestination of God, he speaks the truth, and I am willing to be called a Calvinist; but when an Arminian says that, when a man sins, the sin is his own, and that, if he continues in sin, and perishes, his eternal damnation will lie entirely at his own door, I believe that he also speaks the truth, though I am not willing to be called an Arminian.

The fact is, there is some truth in both these systems of theology; the mischief is that, in order to make a human system appear to be complete, men ignore a certain truth, which they do not know how to put into the scheme which they have formed; and, very often, that very truth, which they ignore, proves to be, like the stone which the builders rejected, one of the headstones of the corner, and their building suffers serious damage through its omission.

Now, brethren, if I could fully understand these two truths, and could clearly expound them to you,—if I could prove to you that they are perfectly consistent with one another, I should be glad to do so, and to escape the censures which some people constantly pour upon those who are trying to preach the whole of revealed truth; but it is more than my soul is worth for me to attempt to alter and trim God's truth so as to make it pleasing to men. I preach it as I find it in God's Word; I am not responsible for what is in the Book, I am only responsible for telling out what I find there, as it is taught to me by the Holy Spirit.

But mark this; to the mind of God, there is no difficulty concerning these two truths, though there is, to us, so much mystery and perplexity. It is all simple enough to him; he is omnipotent in the world of mind as well as in the world of matter; and he is omniscient, he knows everything, he foresees everything, so that there are no difficulties to him.

This excerpt is taken from Charles Haddon Spurgeon, sermon # 2862, "The Way of Wisdom" in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit (London:Passmore & Alabaster, 1903) 49:601. This sermon was originally preached on Thursday Evening, 28 March 1872 at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, London.

Mr. Spurgeon in Rome

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Tue, 09 Dec 2025 02:29:00 +0000

Posted by Phil Johnson
From The Spectator, 6 January 1872, pp. 10-11.

The reporter who wrote this account was not impressed with Charles Spurgeon's worldview. "The narrowness of the circle of Mr. Spurgeon's interests in his journey is something stupendous. . . . Every fibre of interest in his mind that was not English was of Hebrew origin. The Bible was his only passport to interest."

The reporter didn't acually hear Spurgeon's lecture; he wrote this account "from a careful reading of two separate reports of it." Nevertheless, it's a fascinating report of Mr. Spurgeon's 1871 journey to Rome.

MR. SPURGEON IN ROME

There is a good deal of nature about Mr. Spurgeon. He is not only a very clever and homely preacher, who makes his people realize the wrong and the right in every day's moral alternatives with a vigour and freshness such as few of his class manage to obtain; but he is in himself a very interesting type to study, because he reproduces the ideas of a very large class of English folk with the cleverness and emphasis of a strong nature quite devoid of shyness and reserve. His lecture on his Italian journey to the audience of seven thousand at the Tabernacle on Tuesday was a very remarkable one, if only in this light, that it shows what matters chiefly interested Mr. Spurgeon in his journey to Rome, and interested him so much that he was able to impart that interest quite freshly to his crowded congregation, and also what did not interest him at all. Judging of Mr. Spurgeon's lecture from a careful reading of two separate reports of it, the following appear to have been the chief impressions left on Mr. Spurgeon's memory by his journey.

In Paris he was struck by the crimes of the Commune, and the necessity of enlightened religious teaching to keep down the deadly impulses in every people, the priests having lost their hold on the people of Paris. From Paris he travelled to Dijon, where he was much struck by the short time allowed for dinner in the buffet, and thought it hard that travellers should be shouted at and hurried by railway people, to the great injury of their dinners, without any occasion for the disquietude.

At Lyons he was struck by the cold where he had hoped for warmth, and disgusted with the stoves which sent all the heat up the chimney, "like professing Christians" who spread no warmth around them, but send all their heat up the chimney too. At Marseilles he got completely warm, even in the evening; but what pleased him most was to see the Mediterranean, the sea whereon "the apostle of the Gentiles" sailed, which is beaten by the wind called in the Acts Euroclydon, on which St. Paul was wrecked, and from which he landed near Rome, and perhaps also on the shores of Spain.

The ride from Marseilles to Nice delighted him with its loveliness, with its "rocks on both sides like shot-silk," with its great clumps of olives and its groves of oranges, so full of fruit that you could hardly see the trees for the oranges. The olive trees made him think of Gethsemane, and seemed to be always preaching to him, "We are a type of Jesus," because they would grow on hard lime rock where nothing else would, and "deriving nothing from the hand of man, give him plenty." The oranges he admired, but did not enjoy as fruit,—we suspect he might have said the same of the olives, if he had not magnified them for typical purposes,—being much struck by the superiority of the oranges brought to London, and making the soothing reflection,—"there was no place in the world where they could get things as they could get them in London."

At Nice he was lodged very high up, which he liked because he was near to the roof, on which he could get out, and realize better how Peter felt on the top of the house of Simon the tanner at Joppa. Mr. Spurgeon had not the vision of a vessel let down from heaven with all sorts of beasts, clean and unclean, in it; but he bethought himself seriously on his house-top at Nice, that nothing, even in foreign lands, was "common and unclean," except so far as it is made so by "the thoughts of the heart." One of his fellow travellers was afraid to look much about him, lest he should have his thoughts led away from holiness, but Mr. Spurgeon's feeling was more robust. Fortified by Simon Peter's vision, he looked at Alps and sea, and declared to himself that neither was common or unclean.

However, the idea that foreign countries required some such inspired excuse for being what they are, was evidently not far from him. For instance, the continual washing of clothes at Nice exercised Mr. Spurgeon much, as he did not see many clean clothes, and could not help thinking the people kept one suit of clothes to wear and a separate one to wash, a remark which he improved by a hit at Pharisaic purism and ostentatious observances, so supplementing the stove-smoking analogy for merely "professing" Christians. Mr. Spurgeon was tormented by the mosquitoes, which he called "gnatty little creatures,"—surely such a pun was common, if not unclean,—in spite of his mosquito-curtains, which only shut the mosquitoes in with him, instead of keeping them out, and they seemed to him a type of the cares of the world, which men are always trying to shut out by expedients which only succeed in shutting them in;—in this connection Mr. Spurgeon was hard on the Prussian Palace of Sans Souci at Potsdam, for affecting to be "without care," and he conjectured shrewdly that the said palace only performed the functions of his mismanaged mosquito-curtains at Nice,—we say mismanaged, because a very little care will really suffice to keep mosquitoes out of a mosquito-curtain.

While at Nice Mr. Spurgeon preached on board an American man-of-war, and found a boy who had been brought up in the Newington Schools, and who sent his love by Mr. Spurgeon to his uncle, who was a member—though Mr. Spurgeon had forgotten the name—of the congregation of the Tabernacle. Mr. Spurgeon was duly pleased with the scenery of the Riviera, though he does not describe well. Of Genoa he said nothing except of the remarkable skill in cheating of the Jew population there. Of the Italian railways, he remarked that they were "the slowest things out." He thought the leaning tower of Pisa more crooked even than its reputation, and had evidently an uneasy feeling that it would tumble, and he confessed that it taught him the great superiority of "the straight and square style of building." But Mr. Spurgeon was gratified with the sight of an old baptistery so big as clearly not to be meant "for children," and therefore a testimony to the antiquity of the doctrine of the Baptists.

At Rome he was very cold, and found snow fallen on the morning after his arrival, but he owns that, though quite devoid of superstition, he felt a "thrill" at being there that no other place except Jerusalem would have given him. It was the associations of the place, "which must be felt by any man who has a soul at all." These associations, he goes on to imply, had no connection with republican or mediæval Rome at all.

The Arch of Titus was a memorable thing to stand and look upon. The relief showed Titus returning from the war of Jerusalem with the golden candlesticks and trumpets; and while those things stood there it was idle for infidels to say the Bible was not true. There was the plain history written in stone, and the more such discoveries were made, the more would the truth of the grand old Book be confirmed,"—from which one would suppose both that Mr. Spurgeon had had his doubts as to the historical truth of the siege of Jerusalem before he went to Rome,—or, at least, would have had them, but for hearing of the Arch of Titus,—and that he considers that the siege of Jerusalem, with the carrying off of the golden candlesticks and trumpets, is recorded in the Bible, and not merely prophesied; otherwise the confirmations alleged do not strike us as very telling. As we never yet heard of a sceptic who doubted the one, nor of a believer who affirmed the other, the thrill which ran through Mr. Spurgeon on reaching Rome, so far as it was due to the Arch of Titus, was more creditable to his susceptibility than to his reasoning powers. It was rather of the nature of the stimulus given to the imagination of the Yorkshireman who said he felt as if he had seen London, when he had had a good look at the coachman who drove the London coach the first stage out of York.

Besides the Arch of Titus, Mr. Spurgeon was struck with the Coliseum, especially its size. His own Tabernacle, he said, would have to grow for a thousand years before it reached the same size. He was gratified with the Appian Way, which he described as "the British Museum along both sides of the road for eight miles." He was struck with the evidence of the existence of early Baptists in the Roman catacombs as well as at Pisa, for he found a true Baptistery there also, just as big as the one in the Tabernacle, and he was delighted with a picture of John the Baptist, baptizing our Lord by total immersion.

He was properly shocked at St. Peter's:—"St. Peter's was a church indeed. Looked at from the outside the dome seemed squat, and it had nothing of the glory of our own St. Paul's. But it was a thing that grew upon you; it was so huge and enormous that it filled the soul with awe; you had to grow big yourselves if you would appreciate it, and its excellent proportions. What shocked him was to see the statue of St. Peter there. Some people said it was the statue of Jupiter, and to that it had been replied, if it was not Jupiter it was the Jew Peter, so it did not matter. The amazing thing was to see the people kissing the toe of the statue. His audience might laugh, but it was actually done. He saw gentlemen wiping the toe with their handkerchiefs and kissing it, old women being helped up to do the same, and little children lifted up to follow the example. There also was the chair in which Peter never sat, and people bowing down to pay homage to it. It was, in truth, a big joss-house; an idol shop, and nothing better. It was not the worst image-house in Rome, but it was bad enough, and whatever might be said by those who turned to and professed the Catholic faith, if they were not idolators there were no idolators on earth."

For the rest, Mr. Spurgeon saw the miraculous print of St. Peter's image on the walls of a dungeon in which, according to tradition, he had been confined,—made when he was pushed against it by the brutality of his guards,—saw, and was wroth in his heart. He looked at the Vatican, saw the Papal soldier higher up on the flight of steps than the Italian soldier, who stood sentry at the door, and was convinced,—with about the same cogency of reasoning as that furnished by the Arch of Titus to the truth of the Bible,—that the Papal Government had been the worst on earth; but he had his fears for the stability of the Italian Government, as it had sprung out of a political, and not a religious revolution. Such were Mr. Spurgeon's most vivid memories of his journey to the Eternal City,' and his stay there.

Now, we have two remarks to make on this remarkable record of what this very clever and active-minded preacher did, and, as we may assume, did not, see in this journey, He seems to have seen everything on the surface which he could easily measure by an English standard. His spirit was moved within him at the rain caused by the Communists at Paris, whom he evidently compared with the mobs of London; he was indignant at the needless hurry of his digestion at Dijon, disgusted with the stoves at Lyons, and the gnats and uncleanliness at Nice; could not contain himself about the sluggishness of the Italian railways,—'the slowest things out,'—was overwhelmed with the cunning of the Genoese Jews, amazed at the size of the Coliseum and St. Peter's, and heartily appreciated the Baptizing apparatus of Pisa and the Roman Catacombs. But on the manners, even of the most superficial kind, of the countries he passed through (except in relation to the cleanliness of the clothes, a thoroughly English category of thought), he never seems to have made a single comment, except so far as their religious rites offended him.

There is not a word on the demeanour of the French or Italian peasantry or the bearing of the Roman women, not a remark (in the report at least) on a single piece of famous sculpture or a single great picture, not a memory of the marble palaces of Rome and Genoa, or of the gardens which give so strange a charm to those palaces; not a thought of the secular history of the Italian or Roman republics, not even a reference to Columbus—most English of Italian heroes—at Genoa; not a reference to the Rome of Scipio, or Camel, or Rienzi; not a trace even of the charm of the Campagua or the orthodox delight In the Coliseum by moonlight.

Mr. Spurgeon, though of a remarkably conventional type of character, is utterly unconventional in his want of deference for what be was expected to admire and didn't, and he speaks only of what interested him, and that was, most of all, the idolatry of Rome; next its political independence of the Pope;—then the indications of a sometime Baptist creed still lingering in the Catacombs; and finally, the bigness of one or two Roman buildings, and the Appian Way, because it was by that that St. Paul approached Rome. We cannot help observing that the narrowness of the circle of Mr. Spurgeon's interests in his journey is something stupendous. The mosquitoes and the slow trains evidently made much more impression on him than the soft or stately manners of the Southern peoples, than the grandeur of a world of art entirely new to him, than the associations of places with events which have made history what it is. If Mr. Spurgeon had visited Syria instead of Italy, he would have known much better what he cared to see; but he would probably have described the solitaries of the Lebanon,—the nearest approach he could find to the Elijah and Elisha of Mount Carmel,—in words rather more contemptuous than he applied to the Roman monks; and would certainly have considered the Arab Sheik—his best type for Abraham or Chedorlaomer—one of the "slowest things out" in the way of social intercourse.

The next remark we have to make is that whatever there is of real fascination for Mr. Spurgeon in the journey he undertook, was not given to it by interest in Italian literature, but by interest in Hebrew literature,—that such tincture of universal history as he had at all, was evidently real to him only in connection with the Bible. At Nice he cared to be on the roof of his hotel, because it reminded him of Peter's trance on the roof of the house at Joppa; the blue waters of the Mediterranean interested him so much because they had been swept by the storms which wrecked St. Paul, and are still, no doubt, liable to be lashed into tempest by the Euroclydon under some other name. The olive-trees reminded him of Gethsemane, and the Appian Way of St. Paul's journey. Every fibre of interest in his mind that was not English was of Hebrew origin. The Bible was his only passport to interest in those Southern peoples; it was not only the spiritualizing, but the humanizing and cultivating element of his knowledge. And as it was with him, so was it evidently with the majority of his seven thousand hearers. Should not this make us pause a very long time before we consent to strike out of our popular education the one element which, for a very large section of the English people, constitutes the only real link between the present and the past, between the North and the South, between the West and the East?

Spurgeon on Active Obedience

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Mon, 08 Dec 2025 01:02:00 +0000

Posted by Phil Johnson

This excerpt is from sermon #627, "Justification and Glory," in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1865) 11:241-44.

Spurgeon is defending the truth that the perfect obedience Christ rendered throughout his earthly life counts vicariously for all who are united with Him by faith. Christ's righteousness is imputed to them.

In other words, Christ's active obedience, not ours, gives us a righteous standing before God.

ustification has for its matter and means the righteousness of Jesus Christ, set forth in his vicarious obedience, both in life and death.

Certain modern heretics, who ought to have known better, have denied this, and there were some in older times who, by reason of ignorance, said that there was no such thing as the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ. He who denies this, perhaps unconsciously, cuts at the root of the gospel system.

I believe that this doctrine is involved in the whole system of substitution and satisfaction; and we all know that substitution and a vicarious sacrifice are the very marrow of the gospel of Christ. The law, like the God from whom it came, is absolutely immutable, and can be satisfied by nothing else than a complete and perfect righteousness, at once suffering the penalty for guilt incurred already, and working out obedience to the precept which still binds those upon whom penalty has passed. This was rendered by the Lord Jesus as the representative of his chosen, and is the sole legal ground for the justification of the elect.

As for me, I can never doubt that Christ's righteousness is mine, when I find that Christ himself and all that he has belongs to me; if I find that he gives me everything, surely he gives me his righteousness among the rest. And what am I to do with that if not to wear it? Am I to lay it by in a wardrobe and not put it on? Well, sirs, let others wear what they will; my soul rejoices in the royal apparel. For me, the term "the Lord our righteousness" is significant and has a weight of meaning. Jesus Christ shall be my righteousness so long as I read the language of the apostle, "he is made of God unto us wisdom and righteousness, sanctification, and redemption."

My dear brethren, do not doubt the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ, whatever cavillers may say. Remember that you must have a righteousness. It is this which the law requires. I do not read that the law made with our first parents required suffering; it did demand it as a penalty after its breach; but the righteousness of the law required not suffering, but obedience. Suffering would not release us from the duty of obeying. Lost souls in hell are still under the law, and their woes and pangs if completely endured would never justify them. Obedience, and obedience alone, can justify, and where can we have it but in Jesus our Substitute?

Christ comes to magnify the law: how does he do it but by obedience? If I am to enter into life by the keeping of the commandments, as the Lord tells me in the nineteenth chapter of Matthew, and the seventeenth verse, how can I except by Christ having kept them? and how can he have kept the law except by obedience to its commands? The promises in the Word of God are not made to suffering; they are made to obedience: consequently Christ's sufferings, though they may remove the penalty, do not alone make me the inheritor of the promise.

"If thou wilt enter into life," said Christ, "keep the commandments." It is only Christ's keeping the commandments that entitles me to enter life. "The Lord is well pleased for his righteousness, sake; he will magnify the law, and make it honourable." I do not enter into life by virtue of his sufferings—those deliver me from death, those purge me from filthiness, but, entering the enjoyments of the life eternal must be the result of obedience; and as it cannot be the result of mine, it is the result of his which is imputed to me.

We find the apostle Paul putting Christ's obedience in contrast to the disobedience of Adam: "As by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous." Now this is not Christ's death merely, but Christ's active obedience, which is here meant, and it is by this that we are made righteous. Beloved, you need not sing with stammering tongues that blessed verse of our hymn,—

"Jesus, thy perfect righteousness,
My beauty is, my glorious dress."

For despite all the outcry of modern times against that doctrine, it is written in heaven and is a sure and precious truth to be received by all the faithful, that we are justified by faith through the righteousness of Christ Jesus imputed to us. See what Christ has done in his living and in his dying, his acts becoming our acts and his righteousness being imputed to us, so that we are rewarded as if we were righteous, while he was punished as though he had been guilty.

Spurgeon's Love Letters

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Sat, 06 Dec 2025 04:23:00 +0000

posted by Phil Johnson

The following article was published Tuesday, 27 September 1898 in The Advertiser, an Adelaide, Australia newspaper (p. 5).

SPURGEON'S LOVE LETTERS
REMARKABLE DISCLOSURES BY HIS WIDOW.

(From our Special Correspondent.)
London, August 26, 1898.

The most interesting sections of the second volume of the "Life of Spurgeon" are the extraordinary love letters which he addressed to his wife and the account which that lady gives of her courtship. The first time she saw her future husband he occupied the pulpit of New Park-street on the Sunday when he preached his first sermon there.

After it had been settled that young Spurgeon should occupy New Park-street pulpit with a view to the permanent pastorate, Miss Thompson used to meet him occasionally at the house of their common friends, Mr. and Mrs. Olney, and she sometimes went to hear him preach. About this time she became alarmed at her backsliding spiritual state, and was moved to seek guidance from one of the pillars of the Sunday-School, Mr. Olney's second son. "He may have told the new pastor about me," she says, "I cannot say; but one day I was greatly surprised to receive from Mr. Spurgeon an illustrated copy of 'The Pilgrim's Progress,' with this inscription:—'Miss Thompson, with desires for her progress in the blessed pilgrimage, from C. H. Spurgeon. Ap. 20,1854.'" Their friendship steadily grew after this, and on June 10 the lover made his first "revelation." They were present with a large party of friends at the opening of the Crystal Palace on that day:—

"We occupied some raised seats at the end of the palace where the great clock is now fixed. As we sat there talking, laughing, and amusing ourselves as best we could, while waiting for the procession to pass by, Mr. Spurgeon handed me a book, into which he had been occasionally dipping, and pointing to some particular lines, said—"What do you think of the poet's suggestion in those verses?" The volume was Martin Tupper's "Proverbial Philosophy." The pointing finger guided my eyes to the chapter on "Marriage," of which the opening sentences ran thus:-

Seek a good wife of thy God, for she is the best gift of His providence;
Yet ask not in bold confidence that which He hath not promised:
Thou knowest not His goodwill: be thy prayer then submissive thereunto,
And leave thy petition to His mercy, assured that He will deal well with thee.
If thou art to have a wife of thy youth she is now living on the earth;
Therefore think of her and pray for her weal.

"Do you pray for him who is to be your husband?" said a soft low voice in my ear—so soft that no one else heard the whisper.

I do not remember that the question received any vocal answer, but my fast-beating heart, which sent a tell-tale flush to my cheeks, and my downcast eyes, which feared to reveal the light which at once dawned in them, may have spoken a language which love understood. From that moment a very quiet and subdued little maiden sat by the young pastor's side, and while the brilliant procession passed round the palace I do not think she took so much note of the glittering pageant defiling before her as of the crowd of newly awakened emotions which were palpitating within her heart."

There were nearly two months of "loving looks and tender, tones and clasping hands," and the Crystal Palace remained the lovers' trysting place, where they met on one afternoon every week if his preaching engagements permitted. Then on August 2 came the "verbal confession," and Miss Thompson made the following entry in her diary against that day:—"It is impossible to write down all that occurred this morning. I can only adore in silence the mercy of my God, and praise Him for all His benefits."

The love-letters here are among the most remarkable love-letters ever published. She is "My own doubly-dear Susie," and he "My dearest;" he "your much-loved, and ardently loving, C. H. S.;" she "fondly and faithfully yours, Susie." On January 11, 1855, he acknowledges having received her confession of repentance and faith. "I fatter no one," he writes, "but allow me to say, honestly, that few cases which have come under my notice are so satisfactory as yours. Mark, I write not now as your admiring friend, but impartially as your pastor." And so in this epistle he signs himself, "Yours with pure and holy affection, as well as terrestrial love." The following letter was written from Scotland, whither the pastor had gone, partly on a holiday, and partly to fulfil many preaching engagements:—

"Aberfeldy,
"July 17th, 1855.

"My Precious Love—"Your dearly prized note came safely to hand, and verily it did excel all I have ever read, even from your own loving pen. Well, I am all right now. Last Sabbath I preached twice; and to sum up all in a word, the services were 'glorious.' In the morning Dr. Patterson's place was crammed, and in the evening Dr. Wardlaw's Chapel was crammed to suffocation by more than 2,500 people, while persons outside declared that quite as many went away. My reception was enthusiastic; never was greater honor given to mortal man. They were just as delighted as are the people at Park-street. To-day I have had a fine drive with my host and his daughter. Tomorrow I am to preach here. It is quite impossible for me to be left in quiet. Already letters come in begging me to go here, there, and everywhere. Unless I go to the North Pole I never can get away from my holy labor.

"Now to return to you again, I have had day-dreams of you while driving along, I thought you were very near me. It is not long, dearest, before I shall again enjoy your sweet society, if the providence of God permit. I knew I loved you very much before, but now, I feel how necessary you are to me; and you will not lose much by my absence if you find me, on my return, more attentive to your feelings, as well as equally affectionate. I can now thoroughly sympathise with your tears, because I feel in no little degree that pang of absence which my constant engagements prevented me from noticing when in London. How then must you, with so much leisure, have felt my absence from you, even though you well knew that it was unavoidable on my part. My darling, accept love of the deepest and purest kind from one who is not prone to exaggerate, but who feels that here there is not room for hyperbole. Think not that I weary myself by writing; for, dearest, it is my delight to please you, and solace an absence which must be even more dreary to you than to me since travelling and preaching lead me to forget it. My eyes ache for sleep, but they shall keep open till I have invoked the blessings from above—mercies temporal and eternal—to rest on the head of one whose name is sweet to me, and who equally loves the name of her own, her much-loved C.H.S."

He presented her at this time with a book bearing the title of "The Pulpit Library," the first published volume of his sermons. The occasion of the gift is expressed by the inscription:—"In a few days it will be out of my power to present anything to Miss Thompson. Let this be a remembrance of our happy meetings and sweet conversations.—Dec 22, 1855. C. H. Spurgeon." The wedding took place on January 8,1856, in New Park-street Chapel amid great enthusiasm. Prospective brides and bridegrooms will be deeply interested in Mr. Spurgeon's inscription in the family Bible recording the marriage; and not less in the "loving comment" he added to this inscription eleven years afterwards:—

Charles Haddon Spurgeon and Susannah Thompson were by the gracious arrangement of Divine Providence most happily married at New Park-street Chapel by Dr. Alexander Fletcher on Tuesday, January 8, 1856.

And as year rolls after year
Each to other still more dear.

A Brief Note on Plagiarism

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Thu, 04 Dec 2025 01:19:00 +0000

by C. H. Spurgeon
from The Sword and the Trowel (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1891) pp. 178-79.

t is not to be thought of for a moment that any minister would appropriate a sermon bodily, and preach it as his own. Such things have been done, we suppose, in remote ages, and in obscure regions; but nobody would justify a regular preacher in so doing. We give great license to good laymen, who are occupied with business all the week, and too much pressed with public engagements to have time to prepare. When princes and peers have speeches made for them, a sort of toleration is understood; and should a public functionary be so anxious to do good that he delivers a sermon, we excuse him if he has largely compiled it; yes, and if he memorises the bulk of it, and bravely says so, we have no word of censure. But for the preacher who claims a divine call, to take a whole discourse out of another preacher's mouth, and palm it off as his own, is an act which will find no defender.

Yet, he that never quotes, will never be quoted. To stop to give the name of the writer, and book from which the extract is made, would be pedantic, and would break the effect aside from the purpose of a discourse. Verbatim quotations some of us can seldom make; because we have shockingly bad memories for other men's words, and we should have to write out the extracts and read them, which would greatly embarrass us in an extempore sermon. We can, as a rule, only give the sense, and, if possible, say that we owe it to a learned divine, or a standard writer. Even this cannot always be done, since wide readers cannot possibly remember the source of every thought which they repeat.

As to thoughts: if a speaker should be able to confine himself to ideas which never entered into mortal brain before, he would have few enough, or none at all. Our predecessors have, in substance, already thought all that is worth thinking; and all that we can do is to shape these matters in our own mould, and deliver them in our own language. Everything that is worth hearing in the most original sermons could be found somewhere else by a man who had the Bodleian at his command, and an index of it in his head. To shut men up to absolutely new thoughts, would be to condemn them to silence, to forbid them to use their Bibles, and to make total ignorance of all that is written in books a main qualification for the pulpit. Even with such an inglorious unacquaintance with the utterances of others, the mind, to be a mind at all, would be forced unconsciously to follow trodden tracks, unless it ran into utter wildness of almost inconcievable heresy. Some would appear to be trying this plan; but their success in folly more than equals their achievement in originality. The man who aims at edifying his hearers, reads instructive authors with attention, and, after sitting at their feet as a learner, inwardly digests their teaching. He "eats the roll," and so makes it his own, and, in due course, delivers to his people that which he has himself enjoyed, with much more that has come of it. We do not call this plagiarism; and if any choose to do so, we shall defend the imaginary offence, and glory in committing it.

It is to be feared that really vicious plagiarism must be getting very common, since we note that a gentleman who was prosecuted for a breach of promise, was found to have committed another breach also; for he had copied his love-letters from a story book. His heart must have been in a rather artificial condition when his passion could be expressed in another man's words. The same remark might be made in reference to a preacher's heart, if he found another man's language the exact exponent of his own emotions. He who buys manuscript sermons, paying so much for a sufficient quantity to last him through a quarter of a year, would soon either to have no heart at all, or else to abide in constant bondage; since he never uses his own powers freely, but runs on in his purchased discourse like a man racing in a sack. For a deacon, or other good man, to read a profitable sermon, and say that he is doing so, is a praiseworthy action; but for a pastor to buy ready-made discourses, and voice them as his own, is the reverse. If a man has no message from God, let him hold his tongue; and if he is tempted to borrow another's utterances, let him beware of that Scripture which saith, "Behold, I am against the prophets, saith the Lord, that steal my words every one from his neighbour."

So far as Spurgeon's Sermons are concerned, the author does not take out a patent for them; but, on the contrary, would be glad for anyone to borrow from them, or read them publicly. The gracious truths which we preach we would publish to the four winds of heaven. There might be a question as to copyright should anyone publish a whole sermon as his own, as a learned professor once did; but to read them as Spurgeon's Sermons is an honour done to the preacher, for which he is grateful. One brother turned our sermons into Welsh, and then translated them back again into English, and so made them his own; who can find any fault with him? Very wise people would scorn to be thus indebted to any man; and yet their own sermons are such, that the people could not be worse fed even if their shepherd did borrow a little corn from a neighbour's granary. To feed your children on bread not made at home may be risky; but not to feed them at all is worse. One's own coat fits him best; but when the snow lies thick on the ground, it would be better to borrow a friend's wrapper than go out with none at all. Plagiarism is not to be commended; but there are offences of a more crimson dye than this.

Spurgeon's Handling of Solomon's Song

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Wed, 03 Dec 2025 05:10:00 +0000

by Phil Johnson

The following article is the foreword I wrote for The Fairest of Ten Thousand, a fine collection of Charles Spurgeon's sermons on texts from the Song of Solomon. The book is available in hardcover from The Northampton Press.

harles Spurgeon loved the Song of Solomon. Sixty-three of his published sermons are based on texts from Solomon's Song. That's two-plus sermons a year on average, twice as many messages as Spurgeon preached from Colossians. In fact, Spurgeon's unabridged Song of Solomon sermons contain enough material to fill a fifteen-hundred-page book with a typeface smaller than you are now reading. All that material was drawn from an Old Testament poetic love song that most preachers would say is the single most difficult book in Scripture from which to preach.

Spurgeon said:

If I must prefer one book above another, I would prefer some books of the Bible for doctrine, some for experience, some for example, some for teaching, but let me prefer this book above all others for fellowship and communion. When the Christian is nearest to heaven, this is the book he takes with him. There are times when he would leave even the Psalms behind, when standing on the borders of Canaan. When he is in the land of Beulah, and he is just crossing the stream, and can almost see his Beloved through the rifts of the storm-cloud, then it is he can begin to sing Solomon's Song. This is about the only book he could sing in heaven, but for the most part, he could sing this through, these still praising him who is his everlasting lover and friend.¹

The Song of Solomon is, of course, a song about intimate love. It celebrates the bonds of affection between husband and wife—specifically between Solomon and his queen. It is filled with expressions of tender warmth and intense desire. Its imagery is so vivid and the metaphorical pictures of marital passion so powerful that the ancient rabbis forbade young men to read it until they reached the sacerdotal age of thirty (see Numbers 4:47). In Spurgeon's words, "This book was called by the Jews, 'the Holiest of Holies'; they never allowed anyone to read it till he was thirty years of age."²

Spurgeon (in accord with Victorian sensibilities) paid scant attention to the historical context of Solomon's song. Passing over the literal sense of Solomon's love song, he regularly preached from this book about Christ's love for His church (and vice versa). He regarded the poetry of Solomon's Song as "the language of a soul longing for the view of Jesus Christ in grace."³

Spurgeon has frequently been vilified in the current age for his handling of these texts. Some of today's rude-and-randy hipster preachers have viciously mocked Spurgeon for the respect he showed to Victorian modesty—while they themselves have reduced Solomon's love song to a vulgar sex manual. More significantly, Spurgeon has taken fire from advocates of sound expository preaching for his exegesis of the poetry. He is often accused of spiritualizing and allegorizing Solomon's song in a way that is wholly unwarranted by the text itself.

When handling the Song of Solomon, Spurgeon did take some hermeneutical shortcuts that we might well quibble with.

For example, his earliest published sermon on Solomon's Song begins with these words: "I shall not, this evening, attempt to prove that the Song of Solomon has a spiritual meaning. I am sure it has." He went on to give some reasons why he did not believe the Shulammite in the poem was the daughter of Pharaoh mentioned in 1 Kings 3:1. He did not then explain the actual historical background of the poem. He simply stated dogmatically, "This is Jesus speaking to his Church."⁴

We might quibble with Spurgeon's hermeneutical shortcut, but the point he was ultimately making is not altogether invalid. Marriage is, after all, a picture of Christ and His church (Ephesians 5:22-33). Spurgeon's dogmatic assertion simply echoes the words of the apostle: "This mystery [marriage] is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church" (v. 31). In the preceding verse, Paul had Quoted Genesis 2:24 ("Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh"), which is the original divine mandate for the institution of marriage.

If marriage itself "refers to Christ and the church," and Solomon's song is a poem about marital affection, then it is not at all far fetched. to say, as Spurgeon did, that a Holy-spirit-inspired poem about marriage "is Jesus speaking to His Church."

A careful expositor today would no doubt handle these texts somewhat differently from Spurgeon. We wouldn't hesitate to acknowledge the author's original meaning and the proper historical context of the poem. Nevertheless, given the fact that the whole purpose of marriage in the first place is to serve as a living, holy picture of Christ's union with the church, there are many valid and important spiritual truths about Christ's love for His people to be gleaned from the Song of Solomon. It may well be that those who omit this aspect of Solomon's song have missed the most important point of all.

In any case, Spurgeon's approach is vastly superior to the boorish way stylish postmodern preachers have recently tried to treat the book as an explicit sex manual or an evangelical Kama Sutra. As you read these sermons, I trust you will be captivated by the lofty way Spurgeon unfolds the real significance of marital love, the reverent way he honors Christ, and the genuine desire he has for the whole church to see our Lord in all His glory. Above all, I trust you'll begin to appreciate Spurgeon's conviction that Christ alone is "altogether lovely."

_________________

1. Charles Spurgeon, The New Park Street Pulpit, 6 vols. (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1859), 5:458.

2. Ibid.

3. Charles Spurgeon, The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, 63 vols. (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1863), 9:625.

4. The New Park Street Pulpit, ibid., 5:457ff.

Some Thoughts on Sermon Preparation

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Sun, 16 Nov 2025 22:09:00 +0000

by Phil Johnson

"Be diligent to present yourself approved to God as a workman who does not need to be ashamed, accurately handling the word of truth" (2 Timothy 2:15).

ack in the era when I was blogging on a regular basis, there was a lot of discussion about the ethical propriety of pastors' paying for research and writing from a company like the Docent Group. Docent claimed several well-known ministerial clients, including Tim Keller, Matt Chandler, Craig Groeschel, and—most notoriously—Mark Driscoll.

Driscoll's rapid downfall was partially sparked by accusations that he was a serial plagiarizer, and one of the charges made against him was that his sermons were written for him, at least in part, by Docent.

Management and staff at Docent are clearly sensitive about their reputation as an illegitimate shortcut enabling dilettante preachers to bypass the work they should be doing in sermon preparation. Docent's current website reflects the company's uneasiness with the idea of writing prefabricated sermons for lazy pastors. In the website's FAQ, the first question listed is, "Does Docent Write Sermons?" Their answer:

Docent does not and will never write sermons. We started Docent to help pastors become better preachers, and pastors will never become better preachers with someone else writing their sermons. We have received requests from potential clients to write sermons in the past, but we have declined to work with those pastors because writing sermons violates our core values.
To put it affirmatively, we believe that pastors are called to write their own sermons for their flocks.

On the other hand, they say they will

custom create—from scratch—content for busy pastors: sermon research, congregational surveys, small group, discipleship, and leadership pipeline curriculum, book summaries, assistance in turning the pastor’s content into books, and position papers and training seminars to help staff and/or attenders grapple with cultural challenges.
Docent partners with pastors to provide research assistance to lighten their load and help them serve their churches more effectively. We do provide sermon research, leadership consultation, and custom curriculum.

And they acknowledge that "there is no way for us to know with certainty that our clients are not misusing the material we provide them with."

There are, of course, legitimate ways a pastor can benefit from the help of a skilled researcher—fact finding, statistics, survey data, demographic details, or help in finding documentable sources for anecdotes or unsourced quotations. (I regularly answer questions from pastors who ask, "Did Spurgeon really say this thing that is often attributed to him? And if so, what's the source?") Nothing wrong with getting help at that level. Though candidly, AI would seem to render Docent's services unnecessary for questions like that.

Here's an informative criticism of Docent. I don't need to join the dogpile. Docent are by no means the worst in this internet-era genre of groups offering shortcuts for preachers. Perhaps they really do try to guard how their research is used. They say they try to "notice red flags if a client is regularly using too much of the content from the brief." I'm not sure what they might do (if anything) when they learn that a pastor is using Docent as an illegitimate shortcut. But at least they say they don't approve of or encourage that use of their work.

Other services and apps are available that don't seem to have any qualms at all about helping pastors cheat. There's Verble, who advertise with the slogan "Effortless Sermon Writing . . . Turn Scripture, prayer, and reflection into a clear, powerful sermon in minutes." Then there's Sermon Box, where you can buy whole sermon series, replete with "modern media packs" and "worship visuals." Or Rick Warren's Pastors.com. They say, "Our passion is to have healthy pastors leading healthy churches for the global glory of God." But in reality the website is a crass marketplace peddling prefabricated sermons and other material (mostly by Rick Warren) with precious little biblical content.

I could go on. It seems a lot of unscrupulous hustlers are making money hawking superficial sermons to slothful preachers.

There was a brief scandal among Southern Baptists in 2021 (dubbed "sermongate") when someone pointed out that SBC president Ed Litton preached the same sermon, nearly verbatim, that the previous SBC president, J. D. Greear, had preached a year earlier. (It soon came to light that this was a longtime pattern of Litton's.) Greear himself faced accusations that he had taken a personal anecdote from Paul Tripp and retold it as his own.

Every now and then I'll get a letter or email from an elder somewhere who has discovered that his pastor is merely reading transcripts of John MacArthur's sermons or lifting material verbatim from his commentaries—while pretending he is preaching sermons that came out of his own study. John had no objection if other pastors incorporated into their messages ideas and observations borrowed from his sermons, and he didn't expect (or even desire) to be named in a credit line every time a preacher used an idea from one of his sermons or commentaries. But he did not approve of preachers using verbatim excerpts from someone else's work and passing it off as if it were their own original material. That is plagiarism. John's comment was that a man who does that is not a preacher; he is a performer—an actor.

But apparently there are a lot of men filling pulpits in evangelical churches who don't much bother to study the Scriptures for themselves. They use the work of others without attribution and pretend their sermons are the fruit of their own study. Whether they recite full sermons or just steal a paragraph here and there doesn't matter. It is still plagiarism. It is an illegitimate shortcut, and if a preacher does it routinely, in my judgment, he is not qualified to teach.

AI presents a whole new level of temptation for lazy preachers. It also offers a new and more efficient way to discover plagiarism in a pastor's sermons. If a preacher is reciting material verbatim from a published source, the AI machine will recognize that level of plagiarism pretty easily.

But as noted, AI can also be used in place of a research group like Docent. You can ask almost any AI app to write material for a sermon on, say, John 3:16, and the response will come back in seconds. AI is truly intelligent. The results can often be preached with no or minimal editing. And it will probably pass as "original," in the sense that it isn't word for word like anything currently available.

Having AI write sermon material for you is still an illegitimate shortcut, and your ministry will suffer if you do it—because it will isolate you from the sanctifying influence that you gain when you study the Scriptures for yourself. Second Timothy 2:15 should weigh heavily on the conscience of any preacher who takes such shortcuts.

Almost every website that offers sermon-prep shortcuts for preachers will say things like, "Pastors today are busy with administration, planning, organizing, counseling, and a host of other duties. We can help minimize the time you spend preparing sermons."

But preaching the Word, in season and out of season, is the primary duty and first priority of every pastor. If a preacher finds his schedule is too busy to spend personal time studying the biblical text and preparing a sermon, then he needs to cut something else out and "devote [himself] to prayer and to the service of the word" (Acts 6:4).

"Are you saying there is no use for AI in sermon preparation? We all use commentaries. How is this different? Where do you draw the line between plagiarism and borrowing an idea from Spurgeon?"

This is not complex: You can use any tool available for study to gain information and ideas.

But using words you didn't write and passing them off as your own, or copying directly from someone else's material without attribution (even if you rephrase) is plagiarism, an implicit form of bearing false witness.

Whither TGC?

noreply@blogger.com (Phil Johnson) — Sat, 16 Aug 2025 21:24:00 +0000

by Phil Johnson

If the following article seems a bit dated, it's because I wrote it on February 29—Leap Year—2024, just before the start of last year's Shepherds' Conference. Someone had asked me to explain why I often seem concerned about (if not outright opposed to) so much of what is featured and promoted online by The Gospel Coalition (TGC). This article was an effort to distill my thoughts succinctly.
Soon after the conference I had shoulder surgery, leading to a string of odd and mostly unrelated complications. Providentially, the ensuing medical tests brought to light the fact that I have Multiple Myeloma. That diagnosis quickly led to many subsequent treatments and hospitalizations over the past year. And in all the confusion, I totally forgot this document—until I found it today while archiving some old computer files. I'm pretty sure I never posted this anywhere. It's time to remedy that oversight.

ere are four items—a small sampling of some typical issues that illustrate my concerns about the doctrinal and ideological trajectory of The Gospel Coalition:

Despite the Coalition's stated view that the church needs to "dethrone politics," the organization's political sympathies seem suspiciously partisan. The political consensus among TGC contributors has a decidedly leftward tilt. Politically conservative voices are rarely heard or taken seriously by TGC writers.
     To cite one example, TheGospelCoalition.org has featured several articles by Michael Wear, Democrat strategist and former member of Obama's White House staff. Wear was also a key figure leading Obama's 2012 reelection campaign. He still works full time trying to persuade Christians to vote Democrat despite the Democrat Party's radical support for abortion on demand.
     TGC's website also published a glowing review of Wear's book, Reclaiming Hope: Lessons Learned in the Obama White House about the Future of Faith in America. Among other things, the reviewer says, "Part of the agenda of Reclaiming Hope is to establish that, in spite of the dysfunctions of the culture war, politics is good; it's a primary mode of doing justice and mercy in God's world." The book (and the TGC review) celebrates Obama's record on "justice and mercy" as the principal category of political achievement in which "Obama did exceptionally well." That seems a fairly myopic assessment of a presidency under which ethnic strife, crime, abortion, drug use, and general hostility to biblical values in America increased at unprecedented rates.
     Wear is of course not the only left-leaning political figure who has been platformed by TGC. Coalition editors seem to favor progressive and quasi-progressive viewpoints from pundits like Ed Stetzer, Russ Moore, Ray Ortlund, Karen Swallow Prior, and David French (all of whom who seem never to miss an opportunity to scold conservatives while making concessions to secular progressives).

The relentless platforming of Sam Allberry is problematic, for reasons that should be obvious. His resolute defense of same-sex attraction seems quite contradictory to the principle Jesus sets forth in Matthew 5:28. On the one hand, Allberry has shown that he is capable of saying things that are good and edifying. It's true that he formally disavows same-sex marriage and clearly states that same-sex sexual relationships are sinful. But on the other hand, he insists that homosexual desire is not necessarily a sin to be mortified. He pleads for Christians to embrace and support people who self-identify as same-sex attracted. He and those influenced by his rhetoric have opened a door through which more radical activists have now come to lobby for full acceptance of "gay Christians." The organization Allberry helped found, "Living Out," has been rightly criticized for their tendency to see how far they can push the limits of propriety and holiness in order to "encourage" people who are attracted to members of their own sex.
There are other indications that TGC is poised for compromise on biblical sexual ethics. For example, see TGC's positive review of Greg Johnson's book Still Time to Care: What We Can Learn from the Church's Failed Attempt to Cure Homosexuality.

TGC badly mishandled almost every aspect of the COVID crisis, uncritically echoing untruths that we now know were deliberately spun by Dr. Fauci and Francis Collins, parroted by most of the media, and used by government officials to impose tyrannical restrictions. Officials in Canada were literally jailing pastors while letting rapists walk free. In California the government was closing churches while opening casinos, strip clubs, and massage parlors. Officials in every major developed country forced policies on people that the politicians themselves flouted.
     Meanwhile, TGC writers were harshly critical of Grace Church for gathering to worship while county officials tried to keep us closed. None of the opinion pieces on COVID at TGC gave a helpful response to government and health officials' declaration that church meetings are "nonessential." The stance our church took has been fully vindicated by the courts and by facts that have since come to light. Namely, we now know the truth about the uselessness of masks, the ineffectiveness (and dangers) of the vaccines, and the less-than-apocalyptic danger of the virus itself.
     TGC seems to have shrewdly and quietly deleted the articles they published lauding Collins and Fauci. They no doubt wish they had taken a more balanced and charitable perspective than they took during the long months of lockdowns and the immediate aftermath. But they have never actually apologized for their harsh condemnations of people who raised legitimate questions about the official narrative.
     Overreaching government policy during COVID dealt a significant blow to churches everywhere, and TGC (where "engaging culture" is supposed to be a priority) squandered a choice opportunity to make a clear statement to our culture about the vital importance of gathered worship for the church of Jesus Christ.

TGC has shown a clear preference for the Woke notion that systemic injustice is a major factor causing ethnic strife, political unrest, and other social problems—and that practically all our institutions need a major overhaul to compensate for that. Since 2014 or so, themes from the secular debate about "social justice" have dominated the web pages at TheGospelCoalition.org. The overwhelming majority of TGC conferences, articles, videos, and podcasts dealing with elements of that debate have yielded ground unnecessarily to the underlying neo-Marxist ideology that gave birth to such a twisted definition of "justice."
We are by no means alone in this perspective. The dozen or more Christian leaders who drafted the Dallas Statement on Social Justice in June of 2018 all shared a common concern about the aggressive way TGC promotes an unbiblical notion of what justice entails.

Virtually all the concerns we have with TGC are prompted by the organization's tendency to move away from beliefs and values usually associated with the evangelical mainstream, while looking for things to praise in newer ideas touted by today's self-styled "progressives." It seems the organization desperately wants to stay in step with (or follow close behind) the trends of popular culture and the mores of secular thought leaders in the realms of academia, entertainment, and politics. We welcome biblical critiques of popular evangelicalism, but we are absolutely certain that remedies for what ails the evangelical movement will not be found by gleaning and embracing what's currently popular among secular progressives.

PS: Here's an exchange I had with Joe Carter more than eight years ago about TGC's obsession with the trivial matters that dominate pop culture compared to the scant attention they give to actual gospel issues. The organization's middle name seems something of a misnomer, given what they actually pay attention to.

John MacArthur: an appreciation

noreply@blogger.com (DJP) — Thu, 17 Jul 2025 16:15:00 +0000

by Dan Phillips

After a longer time of faithful service than many of you, dear readers, have been alive, our brother John MacArthur has gone to his reward. He now sees the face of Him whom he loved and served with all his might, faithfully and with integrity.

His gain is our great loss, a fact which I think will become more apparent as the days pass. Old heresies and heterodoxies will dust themselves off and don new garb, and we will look for a clear and incisive voice to unmask them...and one such leading voice will remain silent.

Yet in another way and at the same time, we know that voice will be heard from faithful pulpits all around the globe. As surely as it will take years fully to feel the loss of John MacArthur, so it will take years to measure his impact. Men literally across the planet have been formed under God by MacArthur's teaching and example of biblically-faithful pastoral service. We recognize them for certain if they pronounce "brethren" as "brother-en." Even more, they will be known by their unswerving devotion to the exposition and application of the truths of Scripture.

I'll tell you one way in which some of us can measure John's impact. Decades ago, as a young Christian, I wrote a question to the expositor William Hendriksen. Just in passing and by way of introduction, I noted that I was "a Calvinist dispensationalist," then went on to my question.

Hendriksen was little interested in my question, to which he responded almost dismissively. He was much more interested in disabusing me of the thought that I could be Calvinist and dispensationalist. He assured me there was no such thing. I needed to read his commentary on Revelation and lose my dispensationalism, if I wanted to be "100% Calvinist." (Some dispensationalists felt similarly about my Calvinism.) I was not to write him again until I was "100% Calvinist."

Today, were I writing Hendriksen, I'd only need to have said that doctrinally I was "basically in John MacArthur's neck of the woods," and there would have been no turmoil. Though MacArthur and I came to our convictions separately — I was not a MacArthur reader — we landed in the same place by the same path: it is what Scripture taught. (I could never have imagined that one day John MacArthur would graciously endorse my first book.)

But it took John MacArthur to earn acceptance of that blend from people who just recently had been calling dispensationalism a heresy. They saw in John MacArthur a man who stood unwaveringly for the centrality, authority, sufficiency, and inerrancy of all of Scripture. They saw a veritable library of Biblical writing, and a fount of Christ-honoring ministry decisions, investments, and works. MacArthur blazed a trail where none had seemed likely, obvious as it should have been.

I personally became more exposed to John's qualities as a leader by getting to know Phil. Inevitably, I read more books and listened to more sermons and heard more anecdotes.

More than any one book or sermon, I came to respect and admire MacArthur's stance. He was not reflexively "agin'" everything, he just was not immediately "fer" anything. It had to be analyzed Biblically. And often he would see to the heart of The Latest Greatest Thing, with Biblical clarity, long before others did.

And he'd say so, with clarity. That word clarity is another key to understanding MacArthur's impact, I think. He dug into the Bible, and then he was able to bring what he learned to bear in clear, direct, memorable language. This made him useful — and quotable. I myself have quoted him in teaching a number of times, though (defying my own conviction) I can't always source my quotation.

Just last Sunday I quoted a tale of MacArthur. Someone asked him how many people he'd led to Christ. His answer (as I heard it): "Everyone I've ever preached to." That's perfect: profound, yet simple. Or his comment on the faux-Shekinah gold dust in Charismatic meetings: "If that really were the Shekinah, they'd all be dead."

It is that quality of incisive clarity, married to personal integrity, which I think I admire most, and will miss most. John MacArthur was unflappable and beyond intimidation. Talking to a guy at a conference, or talking to Larry King on national cable, or talking to the governor of California, he was the same man.

In fact, that really is a huge thing. You never had to wonder whether MacArthur would wobble, act embarrassed by the Bible, or equivocate, in any setting. He wouldn't be a jerk, but he wouldn't be a quaking aspen. He'd just kindly, firmly lay down the truth of what Scripture said, in any setting. Of how many can you say that — that you'd never worry about what he would say under bright spotlights? Precious few. And now there is one less, and it is a real loss.

I also appreciate MacArthur for his enemies. I'm sure all of us pastors have this or that where we think otherwise than John did. But when you see someone who really hates John MacArthur, or has only bad things to seethe about him — you can be fairly sure that something unhealthy is going on there.

Would I compare MacArthur to Spurgeon? Yes and no. In terms of eloquence and heart-stopping beauty of expression, in terms of speaking to despondent and fearful hearts — no. That's Spurgeon.

But in terms of the breadth, scope, and influence of his Gospel-centered works and impact? Yes, absolutely. What's more, in terms of lasting production of directly Biblical material, I'd say MacArthur excels. Spurgeon left a great library of timeless and priceless sermons and talks and articles. But CHS is not known for leaving a volume of exposition. That's John MacArthur's signature contribution.

The morning after John's passing into Christ's presence, I began the day with tears. I knew the world — Christian world and world-world — had lost a key unwavering voice for God's truth. That is a hard blow, a gut-punch.

But God loves His church more than we do, He loves His word and truth more than we do, and He knows exactly what He is doing. There was no Spurgeon before Spurgeon, and no MacArthur before MacArthur. God formed and raised up those two faithful servants exactly for His purpose and for their time.

Who is He forming and preparing now? God knows. We can only pray.

And what is more, I can't think of a death of a public figure that had more personal impact on me than John MacArthur's death. His life challenges me to strive to give full value to both elements of the phrase "man of God." His passing makes me mindful of my own little field, and more determined to find a way to fill my remaining years with fruitful devotion to Christ and His Gospel.

As John MacArthur did.