Not Fit to Live - Not Fit to Die

The conversion & early ministry of Howell Harris (1714 -1773)
(First published in the Presbyterian Network 2004)

The year 2004 marks the 100th anniversary of the last Welsh Revival. In commemoration, Network is publishing the first of two articles on the Welsh Revival story.

The history of Presbyterianism in England and Wales is the story of two quite different initiatives. The Presbyterian Church of England began with the merger of the United Presbyterian Church and various English and Scottish Presbyterian congregations in 1876. It ended in 1972 with the merger between the Presbyterian Church of England and the Congregational Union of England and Wales to form the United Reformed Church. The history of Presbyterianism in Wales goes back to the Evangelical or Methodist Revival of the 18th century and to Welsh Calvinistic Methodism in particular. It is the combination of the Reformed doctrinal emphasis and the Methodist ethos that gave Welsh Presbyterianism its distinctive character to the end of the 19th century. We call it experimental Calvinism. The story of Welsh Presbyterianism begins in the year 1735 with the conversion of two men, Daniel Rowland and Howell Harris. In this article we trace the conversion of Howell Harris and his early ministry.

In the Devil's Service

From the year of his birth until 1735 Howell Harris' story is wholly unremarkable. His formal education began in 1725 at a nearby elementary school. In 1728 he graduated to the academy at Llwyn-llwyd and completed his secondary education with competence rather than distinction. In spite of this the young Howell Harris considered his familiarity with history, politics, games, and the like, ample qualification to be 'the most interesting of companions'! He was an all-or-nothing kind of person, capable, on the one hand, of throwing himself into amusements and youthful mischief and of sinking into deep melancholy, on the other. We see something of this propensity when, after his father's death in 1730, he became schoolmaster at the small township of Llan-gors, a place of doubtful reputation, not far from his home. While there, he neglected the classics in favour of plays and set about becoming the life and soul of every party. He was also an implacable enemy and mocker of the local Nonconformists. A man of extremes!

His time at Llan-gors troubled him long after his conversion. He called it, 'the place where I first broke out in the devil's service' and later reminded his erstwhile friends that many of them used to go with him towards hell. Once, when preaching there, he said, "God's grace must have been free, or else I would not have received it, because I was the worst of you all." An occasional sermon might create a momentary crisis and he once dreamt that he stood before the judgment-seat of God, but such reflections produced only fleeting resolutions to mend his ways, and attempts to pray. "I tried to turn to God in my own power" he said, 'but did not succeed until the day of His power came.'

Personal Efforts at Reformation

By the age of twenty-one he was entertaining thoughts of the Anglican ministry but as yet had not managed to attend a single service of Holy Communion, whether out of indifference or a tender of conscience, we are not told. But God's ways are not ours! On March 30th, 1735, the Sunday before Easter, the vicar of Talgarth, the Rev. Pryce Davies, announced that the following Lord's Day he would celebrate Holy Communion. He read the formal Exhortation from the Prayer Book and came to the words, "Therefore our duty is to come to these holy mysteries with most hearty thanks to be given to Almighty God ..." Looking up he said, 'You plead your unfitness to come to the Holy Communion. Let me tell you, that if you are not fit to come to the Lord's Supper, you are not fit to live, you are not fit to die."

The logic was impeccable. If we are unfit to draw near to God, we abide under his wrath and are not fit to live or die. Harris knew at that moment that he was unfit to meet his God and resolved that he would attend Holy Communion on Easter Sunday without a bad conscience. On his way home that morning he called on a neighbour with whom he had quarrelled and made it up with him. All the following week he kept himself from his usual sins and anything else he considered inconsistent with a religious life. Thus began his attempt at personal, moral reformation.

Next Sunday came and he presented himself at the Lord's Supper more at ease with himself than before, that is, until the vicar began reading the general confession of sins. Howell recited the words after him, 'We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness ... which we have committed by thought, word and deed ... provoking most justly your divine wrath and indignation against us. We do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; the remembrance of them is grievous to us ...' Bewail, repent, heartily sorry for our misdoings ... grievous to us? All this was humbug; he was telling lies to God! His sins were not grievous, and he did not bewail them. He knew that the guilt of the previous Sunday had been a passing discomfort, and that if the truth be told, he didn't feel any real burden at all!

It was enough to drive him from the Lord's Table, but an ameliorating thought entered his head; he had honestly and sincerely tried to change his life and be as good as it was possible for him to be. He had done all that God could reasonably expect of him, and God is not unreasonable. Armed with the spurious comfort of a duty performed and seemingly with a clear conscience, he partook of the Holy Communion for the first time in his life.

From the Law to Christ

Beginning is easier than continuing - especially when you are trying to do it in your own strength! After momentary elation Harris found himself in the depths of despair. On April 20th, someone gave him a 'Book on the Commandments written by Brian Duppa'. It seemed to do him no good; the more he read the more sinful he felt himself to be and the more depressed he became. 'By the law comes the knowledge of sin!' God was showing him the 'exceeding sinfulness of sin' and he found the experience exceedingly painful. Nevertheless the book, which plunged him into despair, also showed him the way forward. Having tried to put himself right with God he now understood that he needed God to settle accounts for him. The Law of God had driven him to rely on the Son of God, who is' the end of the Law to all who believe.' Attendance at Whitsun communion was quite different because his confession was true and heartfelt. He had been to Jesus Christ for forgiveness. Through faith in him he was now fit to live and die.

The effect was more or less immediate. Harris began 'exhorting' whoever would listen to him, and others who would not. No period of preparation 'in Arabia' was necessary, though, as he later admitted, he knew nothing. But having been to the 'Fountainhead', and feeling the compulsion of his experience, he plunged himself into urging others to be reconciled to God. Those close to him were shocked, and by the following November had packed him off to Oxford 'to cure him of his fanaticism'. But Harris was now God's man and being unable to tolerate the worldliness and immorality of university life, he remained there barely a week before returning to Breconshire.

Early Public Ministry

Thus by 1736 his bold witness was attracting large audiences. He wrote, 'a strong necessity was laid upon me, that I could not rest, but must go to the utmost of my ability to exhort. I could not meet or travel with anybody, rich or poor, young or old, without speaking to them of religion and concerning their souls'. Family gatherings turned into congregations so large that ordinary dwellings could not accommodate them. Family worship was instituted in many homes and churches in the neighbourhood became crowded, with many seeking admission to the Lord's Supper. The Evangelical Awakening had begun.

The boldness and enthusiasm proved costly. Harris was frequently attacked and more than once appeared before the magistrate charged with being in violation of the Conventicle Act (a law forbidding meetings of certain groups). In 1737 he was ejected from his post as schoolmaster, being accused of irregularities by the vicar. He later wrote, 'The ministers preached against me as a false prophet, the people despised me, pointing at me as I passed by, and young wastrels threatened to murder me, speaking all kinds of falsehoods against me... In order to keep me humble the Lord made me a laughing-stock and a subject of lampoons to all.'

Howell Harris had become the pioneer of the Evangelical Awakening in east Wales, just as in the west, and almost simultaneously, similar things were happening through the agency of a young curate named Daniel Rowland.

Passion Without Knowledge

The approach of this 'all or nothing type of person' to witnessing and especially preaching is interesting. He wrote, 'Persuaded by my neighbours, I went during the festive season from house to house in our parish, and the parishes of Llangors and Llangasty, until persecution became too hot. I was absolutely dark and ignorant with regard to the reasons of religion; I was drawn onwards by the love I had experienced, as a blind man is led, and therefore I could not take notice of anything in my way. My food and drink was praising my God. A fire was kindled in my soul and I was clothed with power and made altogether dead to all earthly things. I could have spoken to the king were he within reach - such power and authority did I feel in my soul over every spirit...'

We note the experiential foundation of his enthusiasm, which carried him to the centre of Satan's strongholds. Phrases like 'clothed with power' and 'power and authority ... in my soul' suggest an absolute conviction about calling and message. He wrote, 'I lifted up my voice with authority, and fear and terror would be seen on all faces. I went to the Talgarth fairs denouncing the swearers and cursers without fear or favour. At first I knew nothing at all, but God opened my mouth (full of ignorance), filling it with terrors and threatenings. I was given a commission to break and rend sinners in the most dreadful manner. I thundered greatly, denouncing the gentry, the carnal clergy, and everybody. My subjects, mostly, were death and judgment, without any mention of Christ. I had no order, and hardly any time to read, except a few pages now and then, because of constant busyness. But when I came to the people matter enough was given to me, and I received fluency of speech and great earnestness, although I was inclined by nature to levity and frivolity.'

His usual method was to read the Lord's Prayer, or the Creed, or a chapter from The Whole Duty of Man, or some other book and then expand on what had been read. This he did extemporaneously, perceiving himself to be the passive agent of the Holy Spirit. He would begin a sermon often without the slightest idea of what he was going to say and could continue for two to three hours, even six on one or two occasions! At this stage he made only scant use of the Bible. Richard Bennett comments that 'for a long time Satan worked in him a curious disinclination to use the Word of God'.

Curious indeed, but not wholly out of character. Harris could be headstrong and was greatly influenced by his own experience and betrayed the weakness of one who thought he had a 'hotline to heaven'. When scripture is marginalized it is often because personal experience has made it redundant. Perhaps Harris was more an experiential Calvinist, than an experimental one, for his subjectivity led him down some strange paths, even to the point of doctrinal aberration, in later years.

By his own reckoning, Harris' early ministry set the standard for later years. Reflecting on moments of later blessing he would say, "the power of the first year has returned." But here we are far removed from the expository and doctrinal preaching that builds the church. He was a man to convert rather than teach. Whereas Rowland would prepare, Harris seemed to despise preparation. He preached without safeguards. But for now he was God's instrument of blessing, used mightily to call in his elect.

Vicar Davies opposed him from the beginning, and now he took advantage of his opportunity and sent him a nasty, imperious letter commanding him to give up the work immediately and warning him that he would lose the favour of his brother and others, together with every hope of obtaining Holy Orders. At the same time a more friendly Justice of the Peace advised him to beware of Puritanical zeal, and the people were threatened that they would be fined £20 for admitting him to their houses. It was in the face of such things that Harris's first public attack on the ramparts of the enemy came to an end in February 1736, after lasting barely three months.

The years went by, filled with missionary journeys to the north and south. Every occasion was marked by unusual fervency and boldness in declaring the gospel of God.

Special Gifts

The first gift he received was one of 'similitudes and apt comparisons.' His sermons were all very simple and easily understood by the dullest of his hearers. He used illustrations such as - someone out on the open mountain having lost his way, and darkness overtaking him; or a house on fire with the door locked, and the family refusing to open the door, etc. Such things spiritualised, flowing out scorching hot from the speaker's heart, would leave a wonderful effect on the minds of many of his hearers. He was very acceptable for some weeks. But as the novelty wore away, and when he himself began to particularise, pouncing upon the besetting sins of the age and the particular locality, some were disgusted and others were terrified.

He was also a good organizer whose expertise contributed much to the building the Calvinistic Methodists of Wales into a cohesive movement. He helped organize the groups of converts into 'societies' along essentially Presbyterian lines so that when the formal break with the Established Church came in 1811, there already existed in principle, local congregations, districts, presbyteries and regional synods or assemblies. Moreover, the doctrinal foundation had been laid not in Wesleyan Arminianism but in the experimental Calvinism of the Puritans and Marrow-men of Scotland.

Mother Church

'Extra ecclesiam salus non est.' Cyprian

'Outside of the Christian Church there is no truth, no Christ, no salvation.' Martin Luther

'Those to whom he is a Father, the Church must also be a mother.' John Calvin

'We esteem fellowship with the true  Church of God so highly that we deny that those can live before God who do not stand in fellowship with the true Church of God.' Henry Bullinger

‘None are subjects of church government unless they be within her communion.' John Brown 

‘membership of the visible church consists of all who are enrolled as church members.’ R.B. Kuiper

Body Language

When a woman visitor heard that the church needed assistance for its crèche, she offered her services and was turned down. The elder to whom her offer was referred said ‘we don’t use non-members for work in the church’ - not the kind of response we might expect. Some would take the view that it was an opportunity missed. The woman could have been drawn into the church and opened up to the gospel. As it happens, when she was thanked for her interest, she received the rejection without question, understanding, it seems, a relationship between entitlement and formal membership. Some churches do not see this and operate (at best) on the basis of a credible profession of faith – not as a precondition of membership but as a qualification for service and privilege. In such fellowships we might find non-members participating in the Lord’s Supper, contributing to aspects of worship, covenant children in their later teens standing outside formal membership assuming responsibility for aspects of ministry and elders effectively ignoring accountability and collective responsibility in order to do their own thing.

It is true that over the years churches have appeared without formal memberships. One evangelical church I know has a duly constituted eldership but by deliberate decision no membership. The Calvary Chapel fellowships have no members, the only formal position being that of pastors accredited through their affiliate programme. The pastors are not accountable to local elders, only to God and an independent board of elders.  This, it is said, makes them resistant to advice and correction.  It is probably true to say that views about formal membership are less uniform and more relaxed than a couple of generations ago.  At the time of the Evangelical Awakening in Wales, the founders of what became the Presbyterian Church of Wales placed great store by examining candidates for membership of the religious societies and exercised zeal in expelling those estimated to be unworthy of the privilege. Times have certainly changed!

A former colleague in a seminary where I used to teach told me that in his opinion formal church membership has no basis in scripture and was only to be preserved as an expedient. Even in churches where formal membership lives on, the importance attached to it can be variable and inconsistent. Sometimes candidates are rushed into membership without due preparation, non-members rise to positions of prominence and official members are made to feel that they are unimportant or taken for granted. Individualism has become institutionalised and is perhaps most damagingly apparent in the activities of leaders whose commitment to collective leadership and responsibility is minimal and whose children, though professors of the faith, are not encouraged to join the church. It seems that ‘co-habitation’ as opposed to ‘marriage with vows’ is becoming the norm.  Of course much of this is justified by reference to the doctrine of the invisible church membership of which the visible church is not competent to judge (Bannerman).  In reality it is little more than a form of  institutional individualism that devalues the membership of those who made the commitment and took the trouble to 'tie the knot'.

Home Is Where your Heart Is - reflections on 1 Peter 1:1-2

Home is where your heart is and to be away from home is to be a stranger. Being a stranger means not belonging but not losing one’s identity. Some years ago my wife and I visited our great cultural festival, the National Eisteddfod. After about an hour of recognising only one word in around every four hundred, I wanted to go home; I felt that I was a stranger. The Welsh word for this is hiraeth, which everyone says is untranslatable. It means something like a longing for one's home tinged with sadness for the people and place from whom one is separated.

Christian experience is like this. The apostle Peter, from the very beginning of his First Letter, reminds us that as Christians we are strangers or exiles journeying to our real home.  We have an identity and a citizenship but not here. Not that the here and now is unreal or unimportant but it is transient and on the whole uncongenial. We have to pass this way in order to get to where we are going and to do this successfully we must fix our hope firmly on Christ. Only then will we keep our identity, persevere along the way and finally receive our inheritance. John Calvin writes ‘… if heaven is our homeland, what else is the earth but our place of exile? If departure from the world is entry into life, what else is the world but a sepulchre?[1]

The environment in which we live is hostile, the terrain difficult and we fool ourselves if we think otherwise. Humanly speaking journey’s end is achieved against all the odds. In her poem inspired by Samuel Rutherford’s dying words, Ann Cousins wrote, ‘I’ve wrestled on towards heaven, against storm and wind and tide, Now, like a weary traveller that leaneth on his guide. Amid the shades of evening, while sinks life’s lingering sand, I hail the glory dawning from Immanuel’s land.’ Christian reflection tends to individualize experience but for Peter we make our journey as part of the great pilgrim band. He points us towards our inheritance as encouragement to persevere against storm and wind and tide. But we are strangers together; ‘you’ and ‘your’ are almost invariable plural, not singular. We are strangers of ‘the dispersion’ – the people of God scattered throughout the world. There is safety in numbers.

There might be something in the movement to reclaim and transform culture but for the Christians of Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bythinia in the first century, culture was the killer - literally. Whether or not the persecutions of Nero’s reign form the actual background does not matter, God's people lived with slander, discrimination, deprivation, suffering and the threat of the ‘fiery trial’ on a daily basis. Such conditions test the commitment of the strongest, which is why Peter insists that they should live as people determined to obtain the inheritance reserved in heaven for them. Carl Truman asks the question “Have you noticed … [how] ‘heavenly mindedness’ has come to be seen by some as the real problem in the church, rather than worldliness and the aping of secular culture? It is a strange church culture indeed where such things are now commonplace.”[2]

If First Peter reminds us of anything, it is that we are strangers together, members of that great spiritual entity known as the Dispersion, travelling the same road, fighting the same fight and heading for the same destination as the pilgrims to whom Peter wrote so long ago. 

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[1] Institutes 3.IX.4 (McNeill, ed. )

[2] http://www.reformation21.org/articles/a-question-of-priorities.php

Reformed Exegesis and Christian Discourse

A Confessional Hermeneutic 1

Let's begin by admitting that we cannot do detailed exegetical work in sermons or on every page of a popular book; it would kill the enterprise. But neither can we avoid it because Scripture is our only authority for saying anything. Quality-work done in the study under-girds the work of the pulpit and literature as the only way of validating our conclusions. It goes without saying that filling a sermon or book with textual references while ignoring exegetical rigour and reformed theological parameters does little more than create an illusion of faithfulness. A sound hermeneutic for this writer is the Confessional hermeneutic of Westminster.

William Evans reminds us that confessions are the product of their age and are normative for the communities that produce and interpret them. Exegeting the Confession might be thought to be less exacting than exegeting Scripture. Not so, he tells us, for the problems are the same. For instance, we cannot get back to the original authors' intent and therefore must make of it what we can. We have to 'contextualize' the Confession. This has implications for how we understand subscription and the taking of exceptions.

If the Confession really is the product of the believing community, we might reasonably anticipate that exceptions will be few, not many, minor not major and public not private. If we cannot proceed in the confidence that the men of Westminster said what they meant and meant what they said, we can proceed nowhere at all. Acknowledging the essential difference between inspired an uninspired writings, we must yet affirm that no doctrine of the Confession is of any private interpretation. In the words of Charles Hodge, 'It is no less plain that the candidate has no right to put his own sense upon the words propounded to him. He has no right to select from all possible meanings which the words may bear, that particular sense which suits his purpose.'2 As for revision, unless we (the church) have compelling scriptural reasons for for change, the confession should remain intact as the public statement of faith and practice to which we are bound to subscribe.

In it application to Christian discourse the confession sets the hermeneutical parameters. The interpretive method is set down in the Confession. If subscription is at all meaningful, we should not fear theological parameters but be thankful for them. Nor should we feel the need to break the mould or kick over the traces, whether in the interests of semper reformandum or as a reaction to the anachronistic charge that the Assembly failed to address today's issues. The Confession is 'dated', we know that, but not essentially, otherwise it could have little relevance. What is might be 'guilty' of is by omission not commission, which leaves little need for revision. As a comprehensive and systematic summary of biblical doctrine it sets forth 'supracultural’ truth with great clarity, laying down timeless principles especially relevant to the interpretation of scripture, which is what this article is really about. So while revision is always possible3 the truth summarised and set forth represents both the irreducible deposit and the safe environment in which to carry out exegetical exploration.

A confessional hermeneutic for our purpose therefore, is not primarily about interpreting the confession but about interpreting scripture. It has to do with how we get out of scripture what is in it. The hermeneutic of 'reformed' preaching and literature must necessarily resemble the hermeneutic of the standards in its employment of the principle of scripture being its own interpreter. At a time when it is de rigeur to come at the biblical text from a point on the outside, the proposition that 'The infallible rule of interpretation of scripture is the scripture itself...' draws us back to what is fundamental and essential. Whatever the possible insights of Literary Theory, Social Anthropology, Second Temple Judaism, Discourse Analysis and other disciplines, none constitutes the key to getting out of scripture what is in it.

It goes without saying that this does not remove the necessity of appropriate principles and methods. Where there is a question about the true and full sense of scripture, we employ as our basic tool the analogy of faith so that what is 'not alike clear' 'may be searched and known by other places that speak more clearly.' This is simple but emphatically not simplistic. Comparing texts requires discernment of their doctrinal content and didactic import, which is why we call it the analogy of faith. It is more than a simple comparison of texts. Rather we have to exegete texts in order to know that they are truly comparable as opposed to being superficially similar.

Additionally, when texts do not speak directly to a point, we apply the principle of necessary and justifiable inference: 'The whole counsel of God, concerning all things necessary for his own glory, man's salvation, faith, and life, is either expressly set down in Scripture, or by good and necessary consequence may be deduced from Scripture.' The Westminster Assembly took great care to safeguard the method so as to avoid superficial exegesis based on false comparisons and eisegesis issuing from the use of strange and unbiblical hermeneutical grids.

Yet in all this there is room for exegetical disagreement. The Assembly, which was not a hermeneutical monolith, admitted that all places in scripture are not alike plain. Variations of understanding may occur but reassuringly, always within the boundaries of the system of doctrine agreed by the church and set forth in the confession. A confessional hermeneutic provides a necessary, if not infallible, safeguard against exegetical, hermeneutical and doctrinal aberration and provides a safe environment for exploration and discussion about the meaning of texts.

Successful exegesis is not a matter of intuition. Students learning to exegete are often unaware of their hermeneutical baggage and fail to recognise the difference between themselves and the text. Consequently they read their own experience or that of others into it. Distanciation helps us come to grips with our personal hermeneutical predispositions. Eisegesis or reading meaning into the text goes hand in hand with failure to recognise personal interpretive baggage and a predilection for superficial comparison. The idea that because texts are similar-looking or sounding they necessarily speak to the same point is simplistic. These weaknesses, which are neither truly exegetical nor reformed, may combine to create an illusion of understanding but in reality are the consequence of distracting influences and presuppositions. A certain facility and ease of movement in the handling texts can be mistaken for spiritual illumination. Yet the idea that not having to work hard with the text equals inspired insight probably has nothing to do with the Holy Spirit and everything to do with an ability to elevate the incidental to a position of first importance – the genesis of heresy!

In the words of the Westminster Directory For the Public Worship of God, what matters is that we 'insist upon those doctrines which are principally intended.' In order to do this we must get out of the text what it says (author's intention) in a way consistent with the nature, character, content and context of scripture itself. This was the conviction of the reformers and their successors. According to The Second Helvetic Confession 'we hold that interpretation of the Scripture to be orthodox and genuine which is gleaned from the Scriptures themselves (from the nature of the language in which they were written, likewise according to the circumstances in which they were set down, and expounded in the light of like and unlike passages and of many and clearer passages) which agrees with the rule of faith and life, and contributes much to the glory of and man's salvation.' (Ch. 20.5.010)

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1 The following are reflections drawn from a paper entitled Discoursing Like Paul, presented at the annual officers’ conference of the Evangelical Presbyterian Church in England and Wales’, September 2011.  As such they are little more than introductory.
2 http://www.reformation21.org/blog/william-b-evans/owards a Confessional Hermeneutic: Some Suggestions

3 (The minister’s Vows and the Confession of Faith: http://continuing.wordpress.com/tag/charles-hodge/)

4 For example the adjustments to Articles 23  et al in American editions.

The Escondido Theology by John Frame

Just started reading it. What a pity about the personal stuff. Knowing an author's motives is not always a help, just another barrier to get past in trying to appreciate the arguments.

A weighty service

According to The Directory for the Public Worship of God, the spoken ministry is a ‘weighty service’. In the words of the Lager Catechism it is to be undertaken painfully, plainly, faithfully, wisely, gravely, with loving affection and as taught of God; never in a spirit of self-confidence.[1] Dabney, in his lectures on sacred rhetoric, states that ‘rhetorical discourse should deal not only with the intellect (to produce mental conviction) but also with the affections to direct the motives’,[2] which is to say that ministerial discourse is a ‘hearts and mind’ enterprise demanding clear proclamation and persuasive application. This adds up not only to a weighty task but also to a demand that we appraise our office and function as preachers appropriately. I suppose none of us escapes ‘the morning after the night before’ experience when it comes to reflecting on how well are badly we fared in the pulpit on the Lord’s Day. At the very least, as I’m sure we will agree, our written report from the school of Christ will invariably include 'could do better’.

It is no bad thing to feel that weight. Properly estimated, ministers have no intrinsic value. What distinguishes them from other church members are the gift and call of God and the growth in grace and knowledge requisite in those who preach. But at the end of the day, we are but clay pots in which God has deposited his gospel treasure that the excellence of the power might be of him, not us. Calvin writes ‘Those that intrude themselves confidently [into the ministry], and in a spirit much elated, or who discharge the ministry of the word with an easy mind, as though they were equal to the task, are ignorant at once of themselves and of the task.’[3]The Directory recognizes that ‘the minister of Christ is in some good measure gifted’, which is what sets him apart from his fellows but never so much that there is no room for improvement. In fact, it recommends that a minister ‘improve [his gift] in his private preparations before he deliver in public what he hath provided’, which accords with the aim of this paper. Improvement is always desirable, even necessary but always within the bounds of what Scripture means by preaching. We are not showmen, just preachers, not authority figures, just ministers, not out to serve ourselves but to be the church’s servants for Christ’s sake. 

A humble and grave approach is what Paul advocated. In 2 Cor. 4:1 he writes ‘men ought to regard us Christ’s servants’ and in 4:5, he adds ‘we are your servants for Christ’s sake. It is a ‘servant ministry’, though today, even that expression has been high-jacked by men with a much wider agenda. Actually, throughout its history, the church has been plagued by men and women more committed to making a name for themselves than lifting up Christ.  Paul’s warning to the Ephesian elders has always been timely,[4] not least in our own time when we are assailed by self-appointed preachers & teachers, many without training and accountable to no one. Some even, who went through a training and appointment process, manage to turn the ministry to their own advantage, which brings me back to weightiness of the ministry and the need to improve.

Paul, it is clear, had not the remotest interest in ‘performance’ despite his reported discourses being delivered ‘off the cuff’ so to speak and his being ‘ready’. Although he never attended seminary and never learned homiletics, he was well trained. He met the risen Christ, from whom he received certain truths which he passed on, he made early contact other disciples and the apostles, spent time in Arabia and was part of the ‘ministry team’ of the church at Syrian Antioch.  My point is that, even as an inspired preacher, one taught by the Spirit, he had ‘studied’ the disciplines, gained a thorough acquaintance with the Scriptures, learned how to divide them correctly and apply them passionately. In the forms in which we have them, Paul’s discourses are coherent, spiritual insightful, existentially sensitive, penetratingly logical and passionately persuasive. If anyone can help us, he can!

[1] Larger Catechism Q. 159

[2] Eloquence 233

[3] Commentary 1Cor.99

[4] Acts 20:28-29