Who is the Man of Romans 7:14-25?

I have been doing some work lately on the nature of the Christian life from Paul’s grand expression in Romans 6, 7, and 8. Having spoken of the universality and the totality of man’s natural depravity in the first three chapters, the freeness of gospel grace and the wonder of justification by faith alone in the next two, Paul goes on to give a fit description of the Christian life and situates it in what has been called the “already-not-yet” tension. In Romans 6 he majestically points out the “already” of our identity, which is union with Christ in his death and resurrection. In Romans 7 he grapples with the “not yet,” as he struggles with indwelling sin. And in Romans 8, simply one of the greatest chapters in the entire Bible, he reminds those who live in that tension of the certain victory in Jesus Christ who has made us more than conquerors.

Unless I can be convinced otherwise, I think maintaining the tension of Romans 6, 7, and 8 is absolutely necessary. To be too much in the “already” leads to a deflated view of indwelling sin and the need to mortify the deeds of the flesh by the Spirit (Romans 8:13). To be too much in the “not yet” leads to a deflated view of our positive identity in Jesus Christ. All that to say, as we walk the seeming knife’s edge, on one side is the danger of legalism, and the other is antinomianism, both equally dangerous and condemning doctrines (and both are prevailing today!). Douglas Moo is right about one thing, “It may be generally said that the interpretation of few passages has been more influenced by one’s broad theological perspective and experience” (Romans, 443).

Of course, one of the important questions regarding Romans 7 is who is the “man” of Romans 7:14-25? Can a Christian suffer the experience which is described here, or is this struggle only that of an unregenerate person? Historically, many of the early church fathers saw this passage speaking of the unregenerate. Even Augustine in his early years adopted this view, but in the midst of the Pelegian controversy he came to see it as speaking of the believer. This interpretation was accepted by nearly all the Reformed and Lutheran right down to today—and is still widely held. For my part, recognizing some of the difficulties, I agree with the Reformers. Beyond being a fine exegetical point, I think the church is in danger of being robbed of much comfort if we fail to see the man of Romans 7 as a believer struggling with indwelling sin. My simple argument is that I don’t see how an unregenerate person could possibly say the things that are said here, while I can conceive how the believer can. Here are five reasons why many view this as speaking of the regenerate man (see Murray, Romans, 1:257-259):

  1. In v 22 Paul says, “For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being.” This cannot be said of an unregenerate person, “For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed it cannot” (Romans 8:4).
  2. There is v 25, “I myself serve the law of God with my mind.” Again, this service is not merely external, but of the heart and mind and is impossible for the unregenerate man because he is “in the flesh,” and has “the mind of the flesh” (Romans 8:5-8).
  3. The man portrayed here is inclined towards the good (vv 15, 18, 19, 21) and the bad which he does he regards as going against that which he loves (vv 16, 19, 20). This is unlike the unregenerate who hates the good, but the man here hates the evil (Romans 8:5-8).
  4. The tension here between doing what he hates and not doing what he loves is inevitable in a regenerate person so long as sin remains in him. We cannot ignore the fact that sin persists in the believer. There is a certain contradiction in every believer, and the more sensitive one grows to the demands of holiness and the more he sees the strength of indwelling sin, the more he is brought to complain “Wretched man that I am” (v 24).
  5. This doesn’t mean the Christian is defeated. Paul’s complaint in v 24 is answered by his praise in v 25, which is an assured confidence and a great gospel hope. This word of thanksgiving is not the language of an unregenerate man.

Are You a Fighting Christian?

Biblically speaking the enemies of Christians are often divided into three categories: the flesh, the world, and Satan. Already in Ephesians, Paul has made mention of these three, “And you were dead in trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience” (Ephesians 2:1-3). While in Jesus Christ the power of these three has been broken, there is still a sense in which we “wrestle” against them. For instance, in Romans 7 a post-conversion Paul struggles with a principle of indwelling sin; as Christians we’re not “of” the world, but we’re still “in” the world; and though the heel has crushed the serpent’s head, still the day is coming when we he will crush Satan under our feet (Romans 16:20). As Christians we live within the tension of the already-not-yet. Already these things have been accomplished, though not yet are they fully realized.

So while Christ “disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him” (Colossians 2:15), we are still in the battle, and the enemy is not yet off the field, therefore Paul tells us to “wrestle” (Ephesians 6:12). And his particular focus in Ephesians 6 is the one enemy, Satan, “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). It’s important to see that Paul isn’t here advocating spooky and pagan demonology, but he is dealing with a reality of the Christian life, we wrestle against spiritual forces epitomized in Satan and his forces. An enemy he says, who has “schemes” and is empowered by “cosmic power.” That’s a big enemy! That’s a strong enemy! And Satan is hellbent on destroying bodies and souls, even of the elect if he could (Mark 13:22). So Ephesians 6 calls us to action, to prepare for and engage in an irreconcilable war with those who have made the Lamb, and Him who sits on the Throne, and the seven-fold Spirit before the Throne, their greatest enemy. So in light of this:

  1. First, let us examine our own hearts: Many boast of wanting heaven, but few have the resolve to fight for it; many profess the name of Jesus, but few follow him into battle. For too many the Christian life isn’t characterized by struggle, or by resistance, or by courage and striving and contending, it’s characterized by a life of ease. But true saving faith breeds a warlike spirit. The normal posture of the Christian is a battle-stance.
  2. Secondly, let us be encouraged to stand fast: Three times in Ephesians 6 Paul says, “stand fast” or rather “oppose and rebel against” (vv. 11, 13). Victory is certain in Christ Jesus, and so we have every reason to oppose Satan and rebel against the powers and principalities of this world, which we do by putting on the full armor of God. The Christian is the warrior who contends, and though he falls, says, “Rejoice not over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise” (Micah 7:8). Jesus says in Revelation that to the one who overcomes he will give a right to eat from the tree of life (2:7). Take your orders then, Christian, and prepare for war.

Benefits of the NT: The Gospel of the Kingdom

In his great work, Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man, Herman Witsius outlines several benefits of the New Testament. The second of which is, “the gospel of the kingdom…namely, the gospel as completed” (see first).

We should never think that under the Old Testament people were saved in one way, and in the New another way. What is true of New Testament believers is true of Old Testament believers, that Jesus Christ is the only way to the Father and salvation is only by faith in him. When Paul wanted to prove the glorious doctrine of justification by faith alone he used God’s dealing with Abraham as paradigmatic. Likewise, the author of Hebrews speaks to the unity of the “old” and “new” in Hebrews 11, “that apart from us they should not be made perfect” (v. 40), and they too had the gospel preached to them (4:2). So the Old Testament saints had the gospel. But they gospel they had preached to them was a proclamation of future grace, whereas under the New Testament we have a completed gospel, the work is finished.

But what is the great benefit of having the gospel as complete? Witsius helpfully deals with this under four headings:

  1. The gospel we preach sets forth things as fulfilled, which were formerly foretold would come to pass. While God’s Word is always sure, and so the Old Testament saints had an unwavering confidence in the promise to come (Romans 4:20-21), to have that Word now fulfilled in time, certainly bolsters our faith.
  2. The gospel is now announced with a clarity that was before masked in “the labyrinths of dark sayings.”
  3. While the covenant of grace has, throughout redemptive history, been one it has been diversely administered. The Westminster Confession of Faith rightly says, “This covenant was differently administered in the time of the law, and in the time of the Gospel” (7.5). There was, in the Old Testament, more of a legal character to the covenant of grace, that was attended upon with more severity and rigor. It is not so now, but rather the heart is allured, Witsius says, with the sweetest and most abundant consolations.
  4. In his own words, “That it dwells now more abundantly in us, and is preached more fully and frequently, and with a greater demonstration of the Spirit, and a deeper insinuation or sinking into the conscience (Romans 10:8).”

A Powerful Encouragement for the War

The Christian life is often defined by different postures: sitting, walking, and standing. In fact, one of the internal structural outlines of Ephesians is based on these postures. Paul tells us that we’re seated with Christ in heavenly places (2:6), that we are to walk worthy of our calling-not as Gentiles, in love, in the light, and in wisdom (4:1, 17, 5:2, 8, 15), and that we are to stand against the wiles of the devil (6:11). It’s this third posture that I’m going to focus on in a series of posts about the armor of God. But before we get to the pieces of armor, we need to focus on the context of the war.

Out of all that Paul has written to the Ephesians he has yet one more thing remaining, “Finally, my brothers, be strong in the Lord and in the power of his might” (6:10). The verb “be strong” is an imperative, it’s a command. To be Christians we need to be strong. That’s kind of hard for us to understand. Our sinful nature is pampered by the culture we live in, a culture that has grown increasingly comfortable; and with great comfort often comes great weakness. A person who seldom exercises his muscles will experience progressive atrophy. So too when we fail to discipline our lives according to grace, we degenerate, we waste away. Ever notice your convictions weakening, your resolve lessening as you yield again and again to temptation? That’s spiritual atrophy. But the default position of Christians is anything but complacency. Paul says we must be strong–strong in conviction, strong in resolve, strong against sin, strong against the world, strong against the devil, and strong in faith.

This command would be altogether useless if we were left to our own strength, but we’re not. Paul doesn’t say, “Be strong on your own,” but, “Be strong in the Lord and in the power of his might.” Even this is one of those spiritual blessings wherein we have been blessed in Christ Jesus (Ephesians 1:3). Many agree that power here indicates the attribute of God, what we call his omnipotence. That is, he is altogether powerful–he is El Shaddai. In Job 26, Job reflects on that power when he considers all that God has done: how he helps and saves, how the dead tremble, Sheol is naked before him, he sets the boundaries for waters, covers the face of the moon, sets the boundary between light and darkness, stills the sea, etc, etc. And then in verse 14 he says, “Behold, these are but the outskirts of his ways, and how small a whisper do we hear of him! But the thunder of his power who can understand?” That’s his power, but his might is his ability to do. It’s one thing to be powerful, it’s another thing to exercise that power. Simply, God is able to do. The wonderful thing is, God’s power and his might are supremely displayed in the person and work of Jesus Christ, in his becoming man, in his dying on the cross, in his rising in victory, in his exaltation to the right hand of power, and in the saving of his people.

This, the Apostle says, is how we are to be strong. It must be “in him,” but it’s in him who is altogether powerful and able to do all things. As Paul prepares us for the battle, he reminds us that our union with Christ is the only way we can take up this defensive posture of standing. Like Isaiah wrote, “When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the LORD shall lift up a standard against him” (59:19), but apart from him, we will be slain. Oh to know “what is the exceeding greatness of his power towards us who believe, according to the working of his mighty power” (Ephesians 1:19). What a powerful encouragement for the war!

The Relationship Between Justification and Sanctification

“The very first step towards sanctification, no less than justification, is to come with faith to Christ. We must first live, and then work.”-J.C. Ryle

 

In What Are Justification and Sanctification Alike?

1 Both proceed originally from the free grace of God. It is of His gift alone that believers are justified or sanctified at all.

2. Both are part of that great work of salvation which Christ, in the eternal covenant, has undertaken on behalf of His people. Christ is the fountain of life, from which pardon (justification) and holiness (sanctification) both flow. The root of each is Christ.

3. Both are to be found in the same persons. Those who are justified are always sanctified, and those who are sanctified are always justified. God has joined them together, and they cannot be put asunder.

4. Both begin at the same time. The moment a person begins to be a justified person, he also begins to be a sanctified person. He may not feel it, but it is a fact.

5. Both are alike necessary to salvation. No one ever reached heaven without a renewed heart as well as forgiveness, without the Spirit’s grace as well as the blood of Christ, without a fitness for eternal glory as well as a title. The one is just as necessary as the other is.

Now Let Us See Wherein They Differ:

1. Justification is the reckoning and counting a man to be righteous for the sake of another, even Jesus Christ the Lord. Sanctification is the actual making a man inwardly righteous, though it may be in a very feeble degree.

2. The righteousness we have by our justification is not our own, but the everlasting perfect righteousness of our great Mediator Christ, imputed to us and made our own by faith. The righteousness we have by sanctification is our own righteousness, imparted, inherent, and wrought in us by the Holy Spirit, but mingled with much infirmity and imperfection.

3. In justification, our own works have no place at all; simple faith in Christ is the one thing needful. In sanctification, our own works are of vast importance, and God bids us fight and watch and pray and strive and take pains and labor.

4. Justification is a finished and complete work, and a man is perfectly justified the moment he believes. Sanctification is an imperfect (unfinished) work, comparatively, and will never be perfected until we reach heaven.

5. Justification admits of no growth or increase: a man is as much justified the hour he first comes to Christ by faith, as he will be to all eternity. Sanctification is eminently a progressive work, and admits of continual growth and enlargement, so long as a man lives.

6. Justification has special reference to our persons, our standing in God’s sight, and our deliverance from guilt. Sanctification has special reference to our natures and the moral renewal of our hearts.

7. Justification gives us our title to heaven, and boldness to enter in. Sanctification gives us our fitness for heaven and prepares us to enjoy it when we dwell there.

8. Justification is the act of God about us, and is not easily discerned by others. Sanctification is the work of God within us, and cannot be hid in its outward manifestation from the eyes of men.

I commend these distinctions to the attention of all my readers, and I ask them to ponder them well. I am persuaded that one great cause of the darkness and uncomfortable feelings of many well-meaning people is their habit of confounding justification and sanctification. It can never be too strongly impressed on our minds that they are two separate things. Never should the distinction between them be forgotten.

Organism or Organization: What is the Church?

Organized religion isn’t popular in today’s trendy world. The Emerging Church has been defined, in some ways, by a disillusionment with the institutional church and an emphasis upon community. This is also seen in the modern-day “house church movement.” Assemblies gather in homes without any real structure or leadership, and many regard this as the “relational” or “organic” church. This, they imagine, is what the Apostles envisioned the church to be. The question, of course, must be resolved by Scripture. Does Scripture define the church only in terms of community, in terms of institution, or in terms of both? That is to say, is it organism, organization, or both?

That the church is an organism is clear from Scripture. One of Paul’s favorite metaphors for the church is the body. He wrote to the church in Corinth, “For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body” (1 Corinthians 12:13). To the church in Rome he wrote, “so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another” (Romans 12:5). The body metaphor is used elsewhere too in Ephesians 5:23 and Colossians 1:18, 24. Thus, many have rightly concluded that the church is an organism, and this organism spans denominations, culture, and time and is being knit together into one body under the head, Jesus Christ.

But this in no way means that the church is not an institution. To say otherwise simply lacks biblical witness. One cannot help but read the New Testament and see that though the church is a body, it’s also an organization. Scripture doesn’t identify an unorganized group of Christians as a church. Rather, the church has rules (1 Timothy 2:8-15; 1 Corinthians 11-14; Titus 2), the church has appointed officers to enforce these rules and oversee the body (Matthew 16:19; Acts 6:1-7, 14:23; Ephesians 4:11; 1 Timothy 3:1-13; Titus 1:5; Hebrews 13:17), the church is called upon to compensate teachers (1 Timothy 5:18), the church has disciplinary actions if someone breaks the rules (Matthew 18:15-20; 1 Corinthians 5:1-12; Jude 1:22-23), and the church has a specific mission (Matthew 28:16-20). None of this would be possible if the church were not, in some sense, an organization.

The challenge is, of course, aiming for a balanced view and avoid either extreme. The church is found in the organism and the organization, together. It’s absolutely necessary that we have this balanced view. Not just because we live in a society that is increasingly postmodern and antiauthoritarian, but because it’s this church which Christ died for, it is this church that Christ has promised the gates of hell shall not prevail against (Matthew 16:18).

Dealing With Error

When I was younger my idea of fun was having firecracker wars with my friends. There was something insanely entertaining about lighting a fuse and throwing a mini bomb hoping the timing was just right that it would detonate on impact. Of course, it was all fun and games until someone…no, wait, it was all fun and games. As I see it, many people—zealous as they may be for the truth—treat theological error much in the same way. It’s an entertaining exchange of relatively harmless firecrackers. The problem is, many theological errors are nothing short of a stick of dynamite ignited by the flames of hell waiting to go BOOM.

I was reminded of the danger of error this week with the news that a well-known PCA pastor in the Pacific Northwest was resigning because of his theological shift on sola scriptura and sola fide—making a break with Protestantism to swim up the Tiber and join Rome. I know many people would applaud such a bold move and disregard its seriousness forgetting that in Trent the Roman Catholic Church excommunicated herself from the true church. Such examples should serve to warn, not only those aspiring for the ministry, but all professing believers of the danger of error.

The inspired authors don’t mince words when it comes to dealing with serious nature of error. Consider the colorful language of Jude when he describes the false teachers as “shepherds feeding themselves, waterless clouds, fruitless trees in late autumn, wandering stars, etc.” Or the Apostle Peter who says they are “irrational animals, creatures of instinct, blaspheming about matters which they are ignorant, insatiable for sin, enticing unsteady souls, etc.” John warns the church in 2 John to not even speak a Christian greeting to those who deny the work of Christ, or to even welcome them into the home. And Paul calls them “enemies of the cross of Christ” and reminds the Galatians that a little leaven leavens the whole lump. All of this, and so much more could be produced, screams the word: BEWARE!

This isn’t to say that the church has no obligation to deal with error. Jude clearly says we must “contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (v. 3). Also, it doesn’t mean we need to be like scared sheep who run at every shadow of false doctrine. God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power (2 Timothy 1:7). We need a sure confidence in truth’s victory over error. But that doesn’t mean we should play around with error like children toying with fireworks, but as a bomb squad seeking to defuse a dangerous weapon, “Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12).

Bearing the Cross of Silence

Hello silence, my old friend.

When is the last time you stopped to think about the blessedness of remaining silent? It seems so contrary to our natural sympathies and this manifests itself, particularly, in how quick we are to maintain our reputation. When someone says something hurtful, unfair, or just plain embarrassing, what is your first reaction? This past weekend someone, quite unnecessarily, said something that offended me, and my first reaction was to break the silence in protest, “But I…” To make matters worse I found the need to go and unnecessarily share those hurtful things with someone else, just so I didn’t have to “suffer alone.” Maybe I’m off base here, but I have a suspicion that I’m not the only one that does this. We have an inability to keep silent.

This isn’t to say that wisdom forbids us from maintaining a good name (Proverbs 22:1). But as Christians there is a blessing in bearing the cross of silence and it consists in Christlikeness. The Prophet Isaiah said of Jesus, “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth” (53:7). The only person on planet earth who had every right to break the silence and vindicate his reputation, bore the reproaches of men by keeping silent. He didn’t find it necessary to always defend himself, and he didn’t always go to his closest circle of friends and say, “So and so said this, how dare they!” If Christ could live in silence, shouldn’t we be like our Master? So how, as Christians, can we increase in seeing silence as a blessing?

  1. As Christians we’re free from the centrality of self: the believer, Paul says, is one who has been crucified with Christ, and shares in his resurrection life. The union is so close that Paul can say he no longer lives, but Christ lives in him (Galatians 2:20). Elsewhere he reminds us that our lives are hidden with God in Christ (Colossians 3:1-4). The sun around which we orbit is not our reputation, but him. In every way, we must decrease and he must increase.
  2. As Christians we’re free to bear reproach quietly: it’s the spirit of the old man, even the spirit of society that says we must defend ourselves at all cost. But Peter tells us that Christ has set forth a better example, “Who when insulted did not insult back, suffering he did not threaten, but he committed himself to the one who judges righteously” (1 Peter 2:23).
  3. As Christians we’re free to self-examine our hearts: as hurtful as many things are, sometimes, we must admit there is an element of truth. Self-deception is one of the worst things about our sinful natures, but the Christian is one who has the Spirit, even the Spirit who searches the deep things. When someone says something hurtful, instead of immediately retaliating, perhaps it would prove beneficial to stop and pray with the Psalmist, “Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Psalm 139:23-24).
  4. As Christians we can be thankful: Charles Spurgeon once said, “Brother, if any man thinks ill of you, do not be angry with him; for you are far worse than he thinks you to be.” We should be thankful that people don’t see the full extent of our depravity, oftentimes only the fruit. And we should be thankful that we serve a God who does, and one who still accepts us as righteous in and for the sake of Jesus Christ.

All of this, and so much more, gives the Christian encouragement to be silent. It’s not easy. In fact, the inspired authors speak of it as a part of the sufferings and humiliation of Christ. And for us, it costs something because it’s a mortification of the flesh. But bearing the cross of silence is sure to come with a great crown–even adorning our profession with the crown of Christlikeness. May the Spirit then teach us when we to speak, and when to be silent.

Holiness a Necessary Consequence

John Witherspoon, a signatory of the Declaration of Independence and president of the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University) once wrote, “I have always found, that the most specious and plausible objection, and that most frequently made against the doctrine of justification by imputed righteousness, has been in this case, as indeed usually before, that it loosens the obligations to practice” (Works, 1:28).

Imputed righteousness is the belief that in our justification (standing before God), the believer has nothing to offer in and of himself. Rather, the righteousness (or obedience) of Jesus Christ is credited to one’s account so that by faith in Christ, God looks at a man as though he had never sinned. It doesn’t make a man righteous (that’s sanctification), but it accounts him righteous in the sight of God. Therefore, justification is a declarative act–God declares a man not guilty.

In a brilliant and applicable sermon on Romans 6:1 Witherspoon worked to counter this argument by showing, “The imputed righteousness of Christ, is so far from weakening the obligations to holiness, that, on the contrary, the belief and reception of it, as its necessary consequence, must make men greater lovers of purity and holiness and fill them with a greater horror of sin than any other persuasion on the same subject.” He gives six reasons:

  1. First, those who are justified by the imputed righteousness of Christ have the clearest and strongest conviction of the obligation every man has to the law of God.
  2. Second, he who believes in Christ and expects justification by imputed righteousness has the deepest and strongest sense of the evil of sin.
  3. Third, the one who expects to be justified only through the imputed righteousness of Christ have the greatest view of the danger of sin.
  4. Fourth, they have the highest sense of the purity and holiness of God; and are therefore under the conviction of the necessity of purity in order to be in his presence and enjoy him.
  5. Fifth, justification by imputed righteousness strengthens one’s gratitude and thankfulness to God which are the strongest inducements to obedience.
  6. Sixth, those who are justified by the imputed righteousness of Christ are possessed by a supreme love to God which is the very sum and substance, even the perfection of holiness.

Who Says Eschatology Doesn’t Matter?

es·cha·tol·o·gy: 1) any system of doctrines concerning last, or final, matters, as death, the Judgment, the future state, etc. 2) the branch of theology dealing with such matters.

Simply defined, eschatology is “the study of last things.” Having grown up in the heart of Dispensationalism most people associate eschatology with the rapture, or pre-, mid-, and post-tribulation arguments, or even Tim Lahaye’s Left Behind series (with an obsession over the book of Revelation). Broadly speaking, the hot topics in Reformed and Presbyterian circles are pre-, a-, and postmillennialism. With all the “isms’ eschatology can get confusing, and for some, all the theoretical speculation makes it an impractical area of study.

But must eschatology be impractical? No. On this we can learn a lot from our Puritan forefathers. Apocalyptic writings became immensely popular among the England and New England Puritans. In the midst of all the civil, social, and ecclesiastical unrest of their generation, they saw the providential hand of God working to bring human history to a close, and he was doing it, mediately, through them. They didn’t see themselves as observers in God’s eschatological plan that existed “out there,” but as key players in the unfolding cosmic drama. And of all the Christian virtues it seemed to be hope that dominated their eschatolgoical expectations (and no, this doesn’t mean that they were postmillennials as defined by 21st century terms, see Crawford Gribben, The Puritan Millennium, 239; c.f. 27-28).

This hope was expressed in the every-day life of the New England Puritans:

1. First, their eschatological hope impacted the ministry of the church and namely the preaching of the Word. In their mind the church not only bore witness to the future age, but the ordinary means of grace were instituted, in part, to bring the future age into full realization. They didn’t have little thoughts about the preached Word, they had BIG thoughts (how shaming to our own day of weak pulpits and lethargic views of the church’s ministry!).

2. Secondly, their eschatological hope impacted their missionary endeavors. The Puritans expected the day when “The earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea” (Habakkuk 2:14), and believed God had a people from every tribe, language, and nation. Again, they saw their missionary endeavors to be ushering that reality in–some like William Gouge being passionate about the restoration of the Jews (a common theme in Puritan eschatology), and others, like Joseph Caryl, seeing the missions to the North American Indians as fulfilling biblical prophecy.

3. Thirdly, their eschatological hope impacted their view of the civil government and society. The religious upheavals of England left the Puritans with high expectations for their emigration–with many like William Perkins believing it to be the New Jerusalem. In his famous sermon, A Model of Christian Charity, John Winthrop preached concerning the New World: “For we must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill; the eyes of all the people are upon us, so that if we shall deal falsely with our God in this work we have undertaken and so cause him to withdraw his present help from us, we shall be made a story and by-word through the world; we shall open the mouths of enemies to speak evil of the ways of God.”

4. Fourthly, their eschatological hope impacted their personal piety. Given the days they lived in (days marked by wars and persecutions in England, danger and personal loss as they navigated unknown lands and foreign territories) one might think they would often feel defeated. But as the kingdom of heaven suffered violence, so they violently took it by force (Matthew 11:12). They were motivated in all spheres of life (society, church, and personal) by the overwhelming conviction that King Jesus had conquered and would conquer. It fueled their passions, ignited their ministries, and whatever their portion was in this life, they lived with one eye towards that future glory.

It’s impossible to summarize a Puritan eschatology in a few paragraphs. While many of their predictions fell short (they loved date guessing), and while current trends in Reformed theology stray from their eschatological optimism, we can learn a lot from their hope. America’s ecclesiastical state is one of profound weakness and ignorance. There are more churches on more street corners than ever before, yet our nation is experiencing a religious famine. The Puritans stand to remind us that one of the chief principles of the Christian life is hope. We trust that God has worked, is working, and hope in the work he has yet to do. Maranatha!