NINETEEN HUNDRED YEARS have passed since the early apostles went out into a hostile world with a Gospel that transformed men and influenced nations.

It would be impossible to make many valid comparisons between the world of that time and the one in which we live. The age of the plodding donkey and the ship wind-driven has been engulfed by the atom and the jet plane. And these fantastic achievements of our day will probably be supplanted by yet more fantastic discoveries in later years.

But the hearts of men have not changed. The sins and temptations of Jerusalem, Corinth, and Rome of the past are the sins of London, New York, and Tokyo today. The needs of the human heart are identical in view of man’s separation from God through sin.

Have we, in our sophistication, equated scientific achievement with spiritual advancement? Are we again in danger of substituting another gospel because we fail to appreciate the relevance of the gospel of Jesus Christ for every age?

Study of the book of the Acts is always a rewarding experience. Here we have a stirring record of the beginnings of the early Church. Here are the stories of men who ventured everything for the sake of Christ and his gospel, most of whom eventually paid for their faith even to death itself.

The lives of these men cannot be duplicated any more than can the world and the conditions in which they worked. But do not the underlying truths and principles remain valid for us today? As we Christians look at the Church and search our own hearts, do we not sense that we have lost something infinitely precious, something of their convictions, their message and their power?

Certain definite elements in the ministry of the early apostles are desperately needed today—and they are available.

The apostles went out with spiritual power. But first they were commanded to tarry at Jerusalem until endued with the presence and power of the Holy Spirit. The only power whereby the Gospel may be successfully preached and lived is that of the Holy Spirit. Do we trust primarily in him, or do we look to organizations, programs, collective action, personality, education and other desirable but secondary things? How often we go forth to do the Lord’s work in the arm of the flesh, and then wonder why the work, zeal, and enthusiasm expended bring such meager returns.

The perturbed and resentfully ecclesiastical leaders of that day had to take note of the fact that these men had been with Jesus. Their experience with the living Christ was so vital and transforming that men lacking in social, educational and religious backgrounds had become compelling and effective witnesses to a message which had a stunning effect on those who heard and believed.

How many of us who are engaged in the work of God’s kingdom have had a personal experience of salvation? Can men see and know by our words and lives that we too have been with Christ? Do we always preach Christ, or do we at times preach ourselves or something else?

The early apostles were men of conviction. There was a certainty about their preaching which had its own inevitable effect on those who heard. They were convinced of the source, the authority, and the absolute necessity of the message they were called to preach.

Do we have similar convictions today? Have we been robbed of authority in our preaching through presuppositions and deductions at the human level, all of which change as men and times change?

These early apostles showed an utter disregard for personal comfort or danger. Threatened, they prayed for more courage. Beaten, they thanked God for the privilege of suffering for him. Imprisoned, they sang songs at midnight. Brought before rulers, they confirmed the charges leveled at them by preaching Jesus Christ, crucified and risen from the dead. Ultimately they sealed their faith with their blood.

Are we willing to endure even minor inconveniences for Christ? Are we not in grave danger of making personal comfort, or monetary gain, a major consideration in what we do for the Lord? How can we account for the alarming lack of interest in world missions? Admitting a lost sense of the primacy and urgency of evangelism, are there not also elements of selfishness in our lack of interest?

One of the characteristics of the early Church was mutual love and concern of Christians, one for the other. In fact this Christian love caused unbelievers almost universally to exclaim and wonder.

How different today! One of the tragedies of Christendom now is the unreasoning and unreasoned attacks of Christians upon Christians. They confuse contending for personal interpretations or pet schemes with contending for the faith. There is only too often a contentiousness and lovelessness which cause the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme and Christians to sorrow.

When these early apostles went out to preach the Gospel, they realized that they were a small minority in an alien world. There was no attempt to compromise with the world. The distinctiveness and exclusiveness of the Gospel were magnified, not minimized. Nor did they despise the day of small things. Believing that the saving power of Jesus Christ begins at the personal level, they preached to individuals for personal decisions. Believing that Christians become the salt and light of the society of which they are a part, they confidently expected their faith in Christ to transform them into these witnessing and preserving forces for righteousness.

Cannot we learn from this? Believing in the corporate witness of the Church, should we not always remember that the Gospel must first reach the individual for Christ before he can become a useful member of the Church?

There are many other lessons in the Acts of the Apostles which are relevant for our times. Then, as now, God calls certain individuals to specific tasks, and as they heed that call he prepares and empowers them for that work. In this there are found great diversities of gifts but a similarity in the fruits of the Spirit.

The apostles never deviated from either the nature or content of their message: it was Jesus Christ and him crucified. It was of a risen and living Saviour who fulfilled the prophetic visions of the past and made the salvation God has prepared for his own from the counsels of eternity.

Faced with despotism, they preached Christ before whom despots must fall.

Surrounded by slavery, they preached Christ who makes men free.

Confronted with vice and paganism at their worst, they preached Christ who cleanses men from sin.

The targets of hostile secular and ecclesiastical powers, they preached Christ, rendering to Caesar his just due while giving all honor and glory to God.

As we consider these men of old, we may well ask ourselves: “Who follows in their train?”

All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness

(2 Timothy 3:16).

I acknowledge that the apostle must be understood to speak only of the Jewish Scriptures, which Timothy had known from his childhood, for when he was a child no part of the Christian Scriptures had been published; but if the inspiration of the former is established, that of the latter will be readily conceded.… It was their inspiration which made them profitable for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in righteousness.

God-Breathed

In order to uphold the authority of the Scripture, he declares that it is divinely inspired; for if it be so, it is beyond all controversy that men ought to receive it with reverence. This is a principle which distinguishes our religion from all others, that we know that God hath spoken to us, and are fully convinced that the prophets did not speak at their own suggestion, but that, being organs of the Holy Spirit, they only uttered what they had been commissioned from heaven to declare. Whoever then wishes to profit in the Scriptures, let him, first of all, lay down this as a settled point, that the Law and the Prophets are not a doctrine delivered according to the will and pleasure of men, but dictated by the Holy Spirit.

JOHN CALVIN

What it says of Scripture is, not that it is “breathed into by God” or is the product of the Divine “inbreathing” into its human authors, but that it is breathed out by God, “God-breathed,” the product of the creative breath of God. In a word, what is declared by this fundamental passage is simply that the Scriptures are a Divine product, without any indication of how God has operated in producing them. No term could have been chosen, however, which would have more emphatically asserted the Divine production of Scripture than that which is here employed. The “breath of God” is in Scripture just the symbol of his almighty power, the bearer of his creative word. “By the word of Jehovah,” we read in the significant parallel of Psalm 33:6, “were the heavens made, and all the host of them by the breath of his mouth.”

B. B. WARFIELD

As to the meaning of “inspiration,” it is often said that the quality expressed in the word “is primarily and strictly applicable only to men” and only in a secondary sense to the writings themselves. Such an explanation is far from being warranted. Writing with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven, Paul applies the term directly to the Scriptures themselves, and it must be interpreted in a way that admits of this reference. Literally “inspired of God” is “God-breathed”; and since the breath of God is everywhere identified with His presence, the epithet as applied to the Scriptures can only mean that, written by holy men of old borne on by the Holy Spirit, every Scripture has the presence and operation of God indissolubly associated with it.

J. P. LILLEY

This enthronement of the Holy Scriptures (primarily, but not exclusively, the Old Testament) in the seat of authority is so insistent and prolific of consequences that we cannot wonder that the modern spirit of license rises in revolt against it or labors to dilute its significance. First of all we have the declaration that the sacred graphe, the invariable meaning of the word, whether singular or plural, in the New Testament, re-echoing the hiera grammata of the preceding verse, God-breathed in quality, has the seal of divine truth stamped upon it throughout. The imprimatur of Deity countersigns these scripts, instrumentally the work of human minds, working in keeping with their native faculties, yet prompted by an unseen power. That fact sets them apart from other writings. In that capacity they should be received as replete with instruction.

E. K. SIMPSON

Profitable

The quadruplex usus of the Sacred Scripture of the Old Covenant, is confirmed by the Apostle’s own example, who, in his writings, often employs the Old Testament for all these different ends. For doctrine, he makes use, e.g., of the history of Abraham (Gen. 15:6), in the discussion of the doctrine of justification, Romans 4. For reproof, as often as he puts to shame his opponents by citations from the Old Testament, e.g., Romans 9–11. For correction, e.g., 1 Corinthians 10:1–10. For instruction (Comp. Heb. 12:7), Romans 15:4.

J. J. VAN OOSTERZEE

Let us not be stupefied by hearing Scriptures which we do not understand; but let it be to us according to our faith, by which also we believe that every Scripture because it is theopneustic is profitable. For you must needs admit one of two things regarding these Scriptures: either that they are not theopneustic since they are not profitable, as the unbeliever takes it; or, as a believer, you must admit that since they are theopneustic, they are profitable.

ORIGEN

And, first of all, he mentions doctrine, which ranks above all the rest; for it will be to no purpose that you exhort or reprove, if you have not previously instructed. But because “instruction,” taken by itself, is often of little avail, he adds reproof and correction.… Instruction in righteousness means the rule of a good and holy life.

JOHN CALVIN

This is a classical place to prove the perfection of the Scriptures against Papists, and whatsoever adversaries, who argue it of insufficiency, accounting traditions or revelations to be the touchstone of doctrine and foundation of faith. If the Scriptures be profitable for all these purposes, and able to make a minister perfect, who can say less of it than that it is the soul’s food, as Athanasius calleth it; the invariable rule of truth, as Irenaeus: the touchstone of errors, the aphorisms of Christ, the library of the Holy Ghost, the circle of all divine arts, the wisdom of the cross, the cubit of the sanctuary.

JOHN TRAPP

For correction. The word here used occurs nowhere else in the New Testament. It means properly, a setting to rights, reparation, restoration, and here means, the leading to a correction or amendment of life—a reformation. The meaning is, that the Scriptures are a powerful means of reformation, or of putting men into the proper condition in regard to morals. After all the means which have been employed to reform mankind; all the appeals which are made to them on the score of health, happiness, respectability, property, and long life, the word of God is still the most powerful and the most effectual means of recovering those who have fallen into vice. No reformation can be permanent which is not based on the principles of the word of God.

ALBERT BARNES

The question of moral values in modern literature is one which confronts many earnest Christians who wish to keep abreast of contemporary art. All too often such people are left with furtive, semiapologetic feelings about their reading interests. That there is some value in contemporary fiction, poetry, or drama they may not doubt; but often the values remain only half-formulated or completely hazy. The problem, then, of a Christian approach to modern literature is worthy of consideration.

For example, suppose a Christian, knowing that William Faulkner is considered one of America’s greatest literary artists, desires to read, say, The Sound and the Fury. Beginning the book, he notices first of all a rather difficult style (this alone, unfortunately, is enough to stop many would-be readers of the modern authors). Persevering, he discovers coarse words and themes of sex, incest and lust. Often the result is either that he throws the book aside in disgust, or that he goes on reading because he is fascinated in spite of himself. Either result is lamentable. The usual remark, heard sometimes in academic, highly cultured Christian circles, runs something like this: “Faulkner certainly is brilliant stylistically; it’s just too bad he chose these poor subjects.”

Such readers obviously forget that the distinction between style and content is largely an artificial one; form and content are in essence inseparable.

If form is content, the position of praising the style of Faulkner and other moderns, particularly the naturalists, while deprecating their content, seems to need rethinking.

What, then, are some principles that should guide a Christian reader in his approach to modern literature?

In the first place, every book, poem, or play deserves to be judged on the basis of its author’s purpose. This is of prime importance in distinguishing the worthy and the unworthy in recent literature—or in any literature, for that matter. Potboilers, written for immediate sale and often catering to the lower nature simply to attract hosts of buyers, are ordinarily almost worthless. But often a writer of integrity must picture human violence and depravity to carry out his theme, to express his ideas. This concept should not be foreign to the Christian who is familiar with the Old Testament stories of violence, told not for the sake of violence but to illustrate man’s degradation and God’s righteousness.

To return to the case of William Faulkner, a large part of his purpose in The Sound and the Fury and other novels is to reveal the degradation of the Old South—and of modern society—through materialism. Furthermore, according to Faulkner’s 1949 Stockholm Address, all his writing is an attempt to show “the human heart in conflict with itself … to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past.” In the view of many critical readers, these purposes could not be achieved without the inclusion of much sordid material. In fact, Faulkner believes that mature man must learn to accept evil as well as good in the harmony of the world—and this part of his religious perception should not be too strange to one who realizes that without a knowledge of sin there can be no salvation.

We should not, therefore, be too quick to accuse an author of “wallowing in filth.” Although this charge is brought most often against recent writers, it is actually connected with literature of any age; the same charge has been leveled at Jonathan Swift of the eighteenth century and Geoffrey Chaucer of the fourteenth. The only solution is to learn to judge a man’s work by his purposes, his motives, and how well he achieves his goals with the material he uses.

Second, it is wise to approach a work of modern literature seeking actively for the values it can impart. And, as in the case of true art in any period, these are many—but they are rendered possibly more immediate because they are the contribution of great minds living in our own century, our own world climate.

For one thing, modern literature can bring an awareness of world views that oppose our own. This is valuable for obvious reasons; we need to break out of our insularity, to understand the concepts which large minds are thinking beyond the boundaries of our own ideological environment, however excellent that environment may be (cf. Acts 7:22: “And Moses was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians …”). This is not to say, however, that we should accept these opposing world views—or that we should become dulled in our rejection of the low moral standards we may read about. As T. S. Eliot points out in Religion and Literature, “So long as we are conscious of the gulf fixed between ourselves and the greater part of contemporary literature (i.e., that which does not admit of a Christian supernatural order) we are more or less protected from being harmed by it, and are in a position to extract from it what good it has to offer us.”

Another value one may well seek in recent literature is a widening of his human sympathies. In The Sound and the Fury, for instance, Faulkner gives the stream of consciousness of Benjy, an idiot. Whether or not Faulkner is completely correct in his surmises about what goes on in an undeveloped mind, certainly this sympathetic insight tends to soften one’s attitude toward such members of the human race. There is also the confused stream of consciousness of a man about to commit suicide. In other words, life in other emotional climates is opened up. Certainly this deepening of human sympathy, the extension of our ability to “feel in” with others, is a part of maturation.

This heightened perception of human emotions often leads, furthermore, to the solution of one’s own personal problems and to a better self-understanding.

Another result of the intelligent reading of contemporary literature is a sharpening of the analytical powers. One reason for Faulkner’s difficult style—run-together sentences, abrupt gaps and jumps in the chronology—is to force the reader to participate in the story, to keep wrestling with the ideas until they come clear. This is true also in the symbolism of novelists like Ernest Hemingway and poets like T. S. Eliot. The same techniques of intensive, thoughtful reading are extremely valuable in Bible study, leading us to become aware of allusions and subtle shades of meaning.

All these values will, however, be received only through reading books commonly recognized as works of art. How can one tell, before he invests his time and money in a book, whether it is worthwhile? One can certainly not tell a book by its cover, and even dependence on the author’s reputation may at times be deceiving. The best answer is probably reliance on the critic. Although twentieth-century “classics” are still fluid and it is dangerous to foretell which works will stand the test of time—we lack the perspective for that—the critics and reviewers in reputable newspapers or magazines are usually well enough trained and widely enough read to guide us through the deluge of printed matter to that which is of particular interest to us, and that which is worth our while.

END

Virginia Ramey Mollenkott, Associate Professor of English at Shelton College, holds the M.A. degree from Temple University. She has done some radio script writing and has published short stories integrating biblical and literary themes.

Milton’s Paradise Lost is one of the four great epic works of the Western world, vying with Virgil’s Aeneid, Dante’s Inferno, and Goethe’s Faust for the supremacy. Only these four in European literature have taken the universe as their field of discourse.

Contrary to what we consider to be normal procedure, Milton chose his medium of expression before he chose his subject. It was one of his long cherished desires to leave a great epic poem behind him, one that would stand as an enduring monument. Later, as he sought for the proper subject matter, he decided that no less a stage than the universe and no less than the drama of the ages would suffice in magnitude for his proposed work. The work became universal in its scope, reaching from the beginning to the end of history and penetrating to the highest reach of heaven and the lowest pit of hell.

The Greatest Tragedy

In making his poem embrace all time, from scenes in heaven to the consummation of all things, Milton forced himself to grapple with some knotty problems.

As Buxton writes, “The poet who makes the Universe the subject of his poem, undertakes a work so supremely difficult and complicated that without an extraordinary, an apparently miraculous combination of powers and sympathies, he must ignominiously fail” (Prophets of Heaven and Hell, p. 3). But Milton was seeking a solemn and edifying subject for his epic, and his spirit revolted from the frivolous and untrue. His mind naturally turned to the greatest tragedy of all time, the fall of the angels and of man. What was more real and dramatic than the fall of man, and what better medium was there for his moral purposes and the justification of the ways of God to man? With masterful arrangement and seductive style, Milton causes the reader to view with him the drama of Satan’s fall and his cunning schemes. One’s eyes also see the portrayal of man’s pristine beauty and grandeur, his ruinous fall, and finally a preview of the history of his redemption.

Satan’s fall is so extensively treated that some have called him the hero of the epic. He is shown to be an angel, highly endowed by his Creator. But because of his lust for greater glory, he rebels against the rightful lordship of God. Hence he must be cast from heaven and suffer torment in hell, bearing the fruits of disturbing the order of creation which God had ordained. In his plight we do not find him repentant, however. He and his followers only plot how they may further war against God. Though he sees his fortunes changed, he boasts of “the unconquerable will, the study of revenge, immortal hate, and courage never to submit or yield” (Paradise Lost, book I, ll. 106–108).

Yet there is the problem of making hell a livable place. Satan consoles himself with the thought, “Here at last we shall be free” (book I, l. 258), and takes a subjective view of punishment in his words, “The mind is its own place and in itself can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n” (book I, ll. 254–255). Then he and his followers consult with one another and plan their strategy. Their deliberations, however, only reveal further the scope of their tragedy, for they reveal the successive depths of satanic predicament. The freedom in which they boast is really no freedom at all; instead, their actions are self-frustrating. Their parley serves to disclose how much they are bound, as the result of their rebellious spirit. From holding counsel to wage open war against God, they are reduced to the doubtful glory of trying to seduce others to suffer the same fate.

Satan’S Sophistry

The whole situation of Satan and his host is filled with grim humor. Satan is certain that there will be no faction or strife in hell, for none will wish to claim precedence in being tormented. To escape the lordship of God, Satan gladly submits himself to an idea of fate. He consoles himself with the idea that he can make a heaven out of hell; but as he comes to the garden of Eden, it is said of him, “… within him Hell he brings … nor from Hell one step, no more than from himself, can fly …” (book IV, l. 2022). And Satan admits, “Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell” (book IV, l. 75). The one who sought freedom from God and his order finds himself bound as he never was before. There is a comic ring in Milton’s portrayal. He wishes to characterize a Satan who is not simply pitiable, but ludicrous and contemptible.

Some have accused Milton of making his devils too gentlemanly, and they have been compared unfavorably to those more directly fiendish powers in the Divine Comedy. But if Milton were to have made his devils mere brute powers that buffeted man, he would have lost much. Their brute character would have destroyed that blending of logic and illogic, reason and insanity, which makes for irony in the persons of sinful creatures. As it is, he is able to portray the self-defeating character of rebellion from God and the subtlety and apparent reasonableness of the great Tempter. Besides, some of the most devilish sins are committed by “gentlemen” and some of the worst sins are “refined.”

Source Of Tragedy

The situation is similar in Milton’s portrayal of the fall of Adam and Eve. Their idyllic condition before the fall is painted in glowing colors, and it is contrasted vividly with the degradation and misery of their fallen estate. Harmony is changed to discord, and joy is replaced by pain. Their efforts, too, are self-frustrating. Wishing to know, they learn only the sin and misery which disobedience brings. Wishing to be free, they are enslaved. Adam shows his “love” for Eve by eating the fruit with her; then they fall to hating one another and bickering. They spurn the worship of God, yet turn to the worship of the tree and its fruit.

Though the central theme of the poem is the origin of human tragedy in willful rebellion against God, there is some sort of organic connection between the will of man and the course of nature. When Eve ate of the forbidden fruit, “Earth felt the wound, and nature from her seat, sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe, that all was lost” (book IX, ll. 782–784). When Adam ate, “Earth trembled from her entrails, as gain in pangs and Nature gave a second groan” (book IX, ll. 1000–1001).

We see, therefore, that the ultimate source of tragedy, whether in angel, man, or nature, is one. The source of tragedy is not blind accident or fate; tragedy is fundamentally derived from conscious choice. There was no tragedy before the first disobedience. The deepest source of all tragedy, therefore, is personal. The rebellions of Satan and of man are rebellions of will against a beneficent God, albeit it a God who demands reverence and obedience from his creatures.

It is true, however, that the original decisions led Satan and man into a play of necessities. They are now at the mercy of powers set awry by their disobedience. Furthermore, they can never undo what they have brought about. We see this plainly in the case of Satan. It is assumed that Satan’s decision is irrevocable, and that he will never be reinstated into God’s favor. Though it is never said that a necessity outside his own proud and stubborn will prevents him from turning again to God, the practical issue of his rebellion is considered to be sure. He will continue to think it better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven.

Satan And Greek Heroes

Some have thought that the character of Satan and his Promethean rebellion from God is at the center of the drama. As Milton’s hero, Satan is supposed to resemble greatly the heroes of Greek drama. But there are some prominent differences between Milton’s Satan and the Greek heroes. We gain the impression from reading Greek drama that the heroes were justified at least in part for their rebellion against their fate. Prometheus brings fire to men, and for this deed of kindness he is bound to a rock by the angry Zeus. The attempt is made by the dramatist to make the audience feel admiration for the nobility of Prometheus, and finally the chorus is moved to suffer his fate with him. Here there is the possibility of questioning the goodness of Zeus; but in Paradise Lost there is no occasion given to doubt the beneficence of God, and Satan is shown to be the epitome of sin.

Furthermore, in Greek tragedy there is proper cause for the heroes to rebel against their fate because it is a prophecy of doom apart from their real wishes. In Oedipus Rex, for instance, the hero’s fate is foretold apart from his conscious desire, and the tragic situation is precipitated by trivial incidents. But in Paradise Lost the rebellion is against the just and wise God.

Concept Of Freedom

The picture Milton portrays of Satan can stand only if we consider it a proper claim of God to have dominion over his creatures. One suspects that those who sympathize with Satan feel that all reality is based on a democratic political platform. But the concept of freedom can be applied too abstractly. That is what Satan tried to do, but he found that he could not carry through his case.

We have noticed that Milton represented Satan as being self-frustrating and unable to maintain a consistent position. This makes his open rebellion not only tragic but comic, and makes his violent acts not simply a pitiable but a ludicrous spectacle. But the comic in Satan would disappear if we were not given the impression that his tragic situation ultimately depended upon his own will. The tragic in Milton is therefore not stark; tragic situations are not ultimately brute, just there, apart from their original source in a choice against the all-wise and good God. Only for this reason can Milton lead us not simply to pity Satan and man in their rebellion, but also to feel derision.

How did Milton wish his solemn epic to be taken? Was it to be read literally or was it a typical representation of the struggles and failures of the human soul? Buxton inclines to a view that regards Milton’s work as an epic of man in general. It is required of a cosmic story, he says, that it have a central figure, human enough “to be imagined as representative of mankind in its strivings and failures” (Op. cit., p. 38). On the basis of this judgment, he makes a criticism of Milton’s Adam: “It is perhaps the one inherent weakness of Milton’s myth that Adam, in his perfect innocence before the Fall, is a figure so remote from all our experience that it is well-nigh impossible to invest him with real interest” (Ibid.). But we cannot think of Milton’s purpose as being identical with that of Goethe in Faust, to portray a symbolic figure representing humanity in the abstract. What Milton first of all wished was to describe a unique history which he accepted on the basis of his belief in the authority of Scripture. Adam is not so much the symbol of humanity as he is its head, plunging it into sin. The remoteness or nearness of the prelapsarian Adam could not have been the first question then before Milton’s mind. His aim was to base his epic in the main on sober history.

The foregoing implies that Milton was writing something he regarded not merely to be a story but to be a fact. It is true that Milton embellished his writing with all sorts of imagery drawn from historical sources and his own imagination. The personifications of Death and Sin are imaginary, for instance. But Milton’s living in a rationalistic age did not influence him basically. As Willey says, “… his work is much like an isolated volcano thrusting up through the philosophic plains, and drawing its fire from deeper and older levels of spiritual energy” (The Seventeenth Century Background, p. 226). There are, in Milton’s work, many purely imaginative elements and much symbolic meaning which he wished to be taken as such. But Willey is closer to the truth than Buxton when he says: “On the whole I think we must conclude that whereas the pagan myths were to him but husks from which truth could be winnowed … the biblical events, if allegorical at all, were the deliberate allegories of God himself; and when God allegorizes he does not merely write or inspire parables, he also causes to happen the events which can be allegorically interpreted” (Ibid., p. 239).

Milton’s thoughts do not stop at Paradise Lost. Like the biblical record itself, Milton’s work looks forward to a paradise regained. By the seed of the woman, man is to be saved from sin. Tragedy is not just there; it can be overcome, and it will be overcome finally in Christ,

“… for then the Earth Shall be a Paradise, far happier place Than this of Eden, and far happier daies” (book XII, ll. 463–465).

END

Robert D. Knudsen is Instructor in Philosophy at Westminster Theological Seminary. He holds the Ph.D. from the Free University of Amsterdam. He is author of The Idea of Transcendence in the Philosophy of Karl Jaspers (Kok, 1958).

Calvinism, properly speaking, is a term which belongs to the Continent rather than to Great Britain. At the same time as John Calvin was leading the work of the Reformation in Switzerland and France, men like Thomas Cranmer, Nicholas Ridley, and Hugh Latimer were doing the same in England, and John Knox in Scotland. Of course there were contacts and communications between the British Reformers and Calvin, and interactions of thought and theology. But there was a spontaneousness in the flowering of the Reformation in these different spheres which contradicts any notion of radical interdependence and, by the same token, magnifies the sovereignty and exuberance of the Holy Spirit in his working. As a matter of terminology, therefore, the term “Calvinistic” is applicable to the Continent rather than to Great Britain, where the correspondingly appropriate adjective is “Reformed.” This distinction, however, does not at all imply any kind of cleavage or disharmony in theology. But it is sometimes necessary discreetly to remind friends across the Channel or on the other side of the Atlantic that in the sixteenth century Great Britain had her own Reformation and her own Reformers, though, unlike Luther and Calvin on the Continent, the names of Knox and Cranmer had the good fortune not to become compounded or associated with particular “isms.”

Common Ground

A comparison of the teaching of Calvin with the Westminster Confession of Faith and with the Book of Common Prayer and Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion of the Church of England will show how in all essentials of doctrine and worship the respective reforming movements of Geneva, Edinburgh, and Canterbury were at one with each other. The explanation of this identity of conviction was, to all intents and purposes, the simultaneous rediscovery of the Bible as the authoritative Word of God to man (sola scriptura), and with it the apprehension of the evangelical truths that it is by grace alone (sola gratis) that man is offered redemption in Christ and that it is by faith alone (sola fide), not by any supposed human merit, that this all-sufficient salvation is appropriated by man.

Calvinism, then, may be understood in two different ways: either as indicating the distinctive school of Calvin and his disciples in successive generations, or as a synonym for the main and characteristic doctrines of the Reformation of the sixteenth century, in whatever land and under whatever leaders they came to expression. This year, no doubt, as we commemorate the 450th anniversary of John Calvin’s birth and the 400th anniversary of the publication of the final edition of his incomparable Institutes of the Christian Religion, attention will very fittingly be concentrated on the life and labors of the great Continental Reformer; but a just portrayal of the British scene requires that “Calvinism” should be taken into account in both senses.

New Interest In Calvin

There are clear signs that Calvin, after a period of unjust neglect, is today becoming increasingly known and appreciated in Great Britain. Contemporary interpretations of particular themes and aspects of his theology (such as have come from the pens of T. F. Torrance in Scotland and T. H. L. Parker in England), though very much a second best when compared with the reading of Calvin’s own writings, have served to bring the Reformer’s name and in some measure his thought to the serious notice of persons who through ignorance or prejudice might not be disposed to turn to his works. Studies of this kind provide stepping-stones to the reading of Calvin at first hand, which is much more to be desired. It is over a hundred years since the Calvin Translation Society performed a notable service by producing the great Reformer’s works (Institutes, Commentaries, and Tracts) in an English translation of some fifty volumes. These volumes have now been long out of print, and a new edition, preferably a new translation, would be certain to be widely welcomed. The reprinting, since the war, of an existing English translation of the Institutes has met with an eager response—a sure token of the present mounting interest in John Calvin and his theology. A publication on a smaller scale has been that of a new translation (by T. H. L. Parker) of Calvin’s Sermons on Isaiah LIII.

In the strictly Calvinistic tradition, mention may be made of English translations of two works by contemporary Frenchmen: Auguste Lecerf’s Introduction to Reformed Dogmatics (translated by Stephen Leigh-Hunt, 1949—both author and translator are now deceased) and Pierre Marcel’s Biblical Doctrine of Infant Baptism (translated by the author of this article, 1953), both of which have been widely studied. A British edition of David Gelzer’s translation of the outstanding biographical study of Calvin by the distinguished contemporary Swiss man of letters, Emanuel Stickelberger, shortly to be published in London, will help further to stimulate intelligent interest here in Great Britain in the personality and work of the eminent Continental Reformer.

Taking “Calvinism” in its broader and less precise sense of Reformed theology in general, however, there is much more that can be added to the picture, for, despite the prevailing climate of theological liberalism and, in certain quarters, of Anglo-medievalism, a pronounced revival of interest in the men and writings of the Reformation is discernible—not least among younger men in scholarly and ministerial circles, which, for those who are active in the cause of advancing the vital principles of the Reformed faith, is a source of much encouragement. In the University of Cambridge, for example, there are large attendances at the meetings of the Cranmer Society, the declared aim of which is “to provide members of the University with instruction in ‘those wholesome and spiritual doctrines of the Reformation’ contained in the Thirty-Nine Articles, the Homilies, and the Common Book of Prayer of the Church of England”; at Oxford the Bishop Jewel Society, with similar objectives, is also flourishing; and a Puritan Studies Conference, numerously and enthusiastically supported, is held annually in London for the purpose of studying the writings and character of the Puritan divines of the seventeenth century, who so solidly and devoutly developed and applied the great doctrines of the Reformation.

Study Of Luther

Another factor to be taken into account is the growing interest in Martin Luther. This is shown, for instance, in the approving reception which has been accorded to Gordon Rupp’s scholarly writings on the German Reformer and to the British edition of Roland H. Bainton’s biography, Here I Stand. Recent years have also seen the appearance of a new and revised edition of Luther’s famous commentary on St. Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians in English (edited by P. S. Watson, 1953), a completely new translation of his Bondage of the Will (by J. I. Packer and O. R. Johnston, 1957), and the selection and translation by Bertram Lee Woolf of some of his main Reformation writings (in two volumes, 1952 and 1956). In the Library of Christian Classics series, now in process of production, no less than 10 volumes out of a projected total of 26, covering the first 15 centuries of the Christian Church, are being devoted to new translations of selected works from the pens of Luther, Calvin, Melanchthon, Bucer, Zwingli, Bullinger, and the English Reformers. Another book that has been favourably received is Marcus Loane’s Masters of the English Reformation (1954).

Among other publications which might be mentioned, the volumes currently being produced by The Banner of Truth Trust are deserving of special notice, for they represent the fruits of a most laudable venture. These are, for the most part, reprints of religious works in the best Reformed tradition, ranging from the seventeenth up to our own twentieth century, and classifiable, according to their contents, within the categories of Dogmatics, Pastoral Theology, and the Exegesis of Holy Scripture. Subsidized by The Banner of Truth Trust, these books are being priced at figures which place them within the reach of every pocket. That they will contribute effectively to the realization of the Trust’s object of inducing a revival of solid biblical learning is scarcely a matter of doubt. Of the two dozen volumes already projected, more than half have so far been published—and the Trust came into existence only a little more than a year ago! Over the next few years a substantial augmentation of the Calvinistic literature available in Great Britain can be anticipated, thanks to the vision of those loyal and generous men who formed this Trust.

The Printed Page

Unfortunately, like the volumes of the Calvin Translation Society, the splendid sets of the fathers and early writers of the Reformed Churches of England and Scotland, published in the middle of last century by the Parker Society and the Wodrow Society respectively, are now out of print and difficult to come by in secondhand bookshops. Perhaps it is not too much to hope that the example of the Calvinistic Society of France in producing, as it is now doing with the aid of the International Association for Reformed Faith and Action, a new edition of Calvin’s Institutes and commentaries in modernized French will stimulate the undertaking of a similar service for the writings of our British Reformers. These champions and witnesses of evangelical truth have a message for our generation, and they must not be silenced by careless neglect.

Evangelical Preaching

The reader would be correct to infer that the degree of change in the theological climate of Great Britain, involving a return to the distinctive doctrines of the Reformation, is resulting very largely from the distribution of the printed page. Evangelical preaching, however, still leaves much to be desired, especially in that there is a deficiency of emphasis on the absolute sovereignty of Almighty God, as Creator, Redeemer, and Judge, over all the affairs of our world. This means also a concomitant deficiency in the view of man and his ability. But it is only reasonable to expect that as the majestic scriptural perspectives of the Reformation are absorbed through the printed page, so they will begin once more to find an integral place in the message proclaimed from the pulpit, and thence in the hearts and minds of the men and women in the pews of our British churches.

There is, indeed, another factor which is by no means unimportant. I refer to the impact which is continually being made on worshipers in the Church of England by the services of the Book of Common Prayer, that treasury of scriptural worship and teaching inherited from the English Reformation. And this is particularly true of the services most frequently celebrated, namely, Morning and Evening Prayer and the Holy Communion or Lord’s Supper, which for beauty and balance, dignity of worship, and soundness of doctrine are unsurpassed in the whole of Christendom. They represent “Calvinism” at its best. Beyond doubt, the liturgical and doctrinal structure of the Book of Common Prayer provides the perfect setting for strongly Reformed preaching from the pulpit. Here in England, a fresh, vital union of Reformed liturgy and Reformed preaching could, more probably than anything else, lead to a genuine transformation of the present deplorable situation.

International Congress

Finally, a word must be said about the international aspect. The Reformed faith is a faith for the world—not for one country or one denomination. The realization of this truth lies behind the formation a mere five or six years ago of the International Association for Reformed Faith and Action with its threefold aim of strengthening and advancing the Reformed cause throughout the world, encouraging fellowship between Reformed Christians of every land, and facilitating the interchange of Reformed thought and experience. This new movement, so young and hopeful, has already organized three major international congresses and has an impressive program for the production and dissemination of Reformed literature, both classical and contemporary, especially in those lands where the Reformed faith is weak and struggling. National branches have already been formed in every quarter of the globe, including Great Britain. And it is planned to hold the next international congress in England in the summer of 1961.

The most recent development is the publication of a new magazine, The International Reformed Bulletin, which is produced twice yearly and of which I have the honor to be the Editor. Here too, then, within the great world-wide perspective, Great Britain is beginning to feel in a fresh and vital way the impact of the Reformed faith, or, if you will, of Calvinism. This faith, let us always remember, is not an outmoded construction of 400 years ago, but the pristine faith of the New Testament, which can never be static or retrogressive, but constantly the one dynamic reforming faith for our own and every generation. May God graciously enable us, in the light of Holy Scripture and in the power of the Holy Spirit, to apply it to our present circumstances, to contend earnestly for it, and to propagate it in our world today, raising high the banner: soli Deo glorial

END

Philip E. Hughes is Lecturer of Mortlake Parish, London, and Editor of the International Reformed Bulletin. He is Vice-President of the International Association for Reformed Faith and Action; formerly Secretary of the Church Society of London. He is also Vice-Principal of Tyndale Hall, Bristol.

A survey of the books on the New Testament published in 1958 shows that the trends of 1957 have been continued by the prevailing schools of theology. Conservatives, neo-orthodox, and liberals alike have provided fresh reading material for the theologically-minded public.

New Testament Theology

Biblical theology has become popular, and this year has taken the foremost place in publication. The Person of Christ, by Vincent Taylor (Macmillan), completes the author’s trilogy begun in 1953 with his volumes on The Names of Jesus, and continued in 1954 with The Life and Ministry of Jesus. In interpreting the person of Christ, he has followed the method of arranging the materials in strict chronological order apart from their literary context, so that the progressive development of the apostolic teaching may be apprehended more clearly. The data which it supplies are extensive and well catalogued, and afford the reader ample opportunity to come to his own conclusions if he does not agree with those of the author.

Christ in the New Testament, by Charles M. Laymon (Abingdon Press), covers almost the same ground with a topical rather than an historical approach. Dr. Laymon notes both the unity and the diversity of the presentation of Christ by the writers of the New Testament. An avowed liberal in theology, he approaches his subject with no presuppositions of orthodoxy. His view of the origins of the New Testament is openly critical, but he concedes that it teaches most of the major tenets which conservative Christians have believed. Candid in his attitude, the writer is a good example of the recent tendency of the liberal school to show more respect for biblical teaching.

The Death of Christ, by John Knox (Abingdon Press), belongs in the same general orbit with the books of Vincent Taylor and Charles Laymon. The theme of the book is recognized as important, but the treatment of the theme is not satisfactory from an evangelical point of view.

Dr. Daniel Lamont’s Studies in the Johannine Writings (Jas. Clarke and Co., Inc.), published posthumously, contains a series of brief messages on topical aspects of theology in the Gospel, Epistles, and Revelation. His volume is less technical and theological than the three preceding titles, but it possesses a rare biographical fragrance that makes the teaching winsome. It will serve as a “starter” for many sermons.

The late Clarence E. Macartney’s small volume, What Jesus Really Taught (Abingdon Press), is also posthumous, and, as might be expected, conservative in theology. This little book contains short summaries of Jesus’ teaching on God, the Holy Spirit, Man, the Kingdom, Money, Marriage, and other kindred topics. The treatment is thoroughly popular, and abounds in excellent illustrations.

H. N. Ridderbos’ Paul and Jesus (Presbyterian and Reformed) discusses the relation of Paul’s thinking to Christ. The theme is old, but the treatment is new. Thoroughly in accord with Reformed theology, Dr. Ridderbos strengthens the case for the validity of the Pauline Christology.

Translations

Two new translations of the New Testament have appeared this year. One is the second volume of The Expanded Translation of the New Testament by Kenneth Wuest (Eerdmans), covering Acts through Ephesians. This translation is really a paraphrase which constitutes a brief commentary. Many of the renderings are apt, and the tenses of verbs are well handled, though sometimes the sentences are circuitous. The vocabulary is occasionally colloquial, but never ambiguous.

The second translation is The Amplified New Testament (Zondervan), produced by an anonymous editorial committee. Less bulky than Wuest’s translation, this work follows more closely the order of the original text, and may be used for direct reading and study. Insertions and expansions are indicated by the use of parentheses and square brackets, with occasional footnotes to supply textual emendations or to acknowledge sources. It is readable, accurate, and free from extreme renderings, flexible enough to be modern and dignified enough to retain the atmosphere of the original.

Commentaries

A new series of commentaries has been launched cooperatively by A. and C. Black in England and by Harper in this country. The volume on Acts, by C. S. C. Williams, was published last year, and this year C. K. Barrett’s Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans and A. R. C. Leaney’s Commentary on the Gospel According to Luke have been completed. Both are of moderate size (300 pp.), and are concise and thorough. Their critical introductions represent the latest thought on the background of the biblical books of which they treat. Leaney takes a somewhat more radical attitude on Luke than Barrett does on Romans, and is less theological in his interpretation.

C. C. Martindale has published commentaries on Matthew, Luke, John, and the Revelation (Longmans) from the Roman Catholic point of view. Among the conservative Protestants are R. V. G. Tasker on II Corinthians (Eerdmans), Homer Kent on the Pastoral Epistles (Moody Press), L. L. Morris on I Corinthians, and Donald Guthrie on The Pastoral Epistles in the Tyndale Bible Commentaries, and another volume in The New International Commentary Series on Ephesians and Colossians by E. K. Simpson and F. F. Bruce (all Eerdmans). This last commentary maintains the high standard set by its predecessors, and is suited both for popular and scholarly use. They Met at Philippi by C. E. Simcox (Oxford Press), is a homiletical treatment of the text of Philippians rather than a critical commentary.

The wide publication of books and articles on the Qumran Scrolls has raised so many questions in the minds of the public that books are now being written to answer them. Two lucid and helpful guides have appeared, one by three English authors, and one by an American author. A Guide to the Scrolls, by A. R. C. Leaney, R. P. C. Hanson, and J. Posen (S.C.M. Book Club) is brief, well outlined, and planned for the reader who is not a professional scholar. Carl G. Howie, a Presbyterian pastor, has written The Dead Sea Scrolls and The Living Church (John Knox Press), a volume quite similar in size and in design, to reassure readers who think that the material in the scrolls has endangered historic Christianity. Both books can be commended for their brevity and directness. They make a confusing subject clear.

Frank Cross, Jr., has produced a somewhat more technical volume, The Ancient Library of Qumran and Modern Biblical Studies (Doubleday). Dr. Cross’ work represents firsthand scholarship, since he has worked on the scrolls, and his statements are authoritative.

New Testament Introduction

Some material on New Testament Introduction is supplied by C. K. Barrett, The New Testament: Its Making and Meaning (Abingdon Press), and B. W. Blackwelder, Light from the Greek New Testament. A very handy little introduction by L. D. Twilley, The Origin and Transmission of the New Testament, appeared late in 1957 in the Pathway Series (Eerdmans). It contains some unusually helpful and original charts illustrating the writing and copying of the manuscripts of the New Testament. Twilley follows Streeter’s theory of geographical centers for the different types of text in the manuscript tradition. Not everybody will agree with this theory, nor with his acceptance of the documentary theory of Gospel origins, but he has produced in small compass one of the best integrated accounts of the rise of the New Testament in circulation today.

Reprints

Two reprints of old standard texts have been issued this year. Eadie’s Colossians, a thorough exegetical commentary, was published by Zondervan, and Alford’s Greek Testament, edited by Everett Harrison, has been revised in two large volumes by Moody Press. The revisions of Alford are not extensive, and are massed in additional pages at the end of each volume. Alford still contains much that is valuable, although the more recent commentaries have superseded many of its interpretations of vocabulary.

There are one or two miscellaneous titles that deserve special comment. Thomas Nelson’s new Atlas of the Early Christian World belongs more properly to the field of church history than to New Testament exposition, but excellence of planning and of content makes it useful in interpreting the early apostolic period which follows the writing of the New Testament.

Dispensationalism in America by C. Norman Krause (John Knox Press), deals properly with a phase of the history of theology, but touches on the interpretation of the eschatological passages of the New Testament. The author is opposed to the dispensational view, but he states its history with fair objectivity.

This flow of publication in the New Testament field is encouraging to evangelicals. While not all these works are written from their viewpoint, they represent a trend toward letting the Scriptures speak for themselves, and they foster interest in the biblical message.

Merrill C. Tenney is Dean of the Graduate School of Wheaton College. He holds the Th.B. degree from Gordon Divinity School, the A.M. from Boston University, and the Ph.D. from Harvard. He is the author of John: the Gospel of Belief, The New Testament: An Historical and Analytic Survey, Philippians: The Gospel at Work, and other important works.

One of the real problems of the preaching ministry today is making the principles of the Bible pertinent to a space-conscious era. Yet it is the space-consciousness of our time that has caused many a serious person to rethink his own place in life and in the universe. Swift changes and fears in an age of science have provided opportunity of contact with such people for the gospel of an unchanging God and the assurance of his timeless grace.

It is in view of this opportunity that the message of the Old Testament, with its revelation of a this-worldly peace by means of a covenant relationship to God, is shown to have real application to our needs. New Testament answers to the human predicament have their roots in the theological concepts and religious experience of Old Testament believers and writers. Scholars of quite varying shades of opinion have recognized that Christianity is the flower that stems from the prophetic roots of the Old Testament. There is, therefore, in recent literature of the Old Testament, revisions of older, liberal reconstructions of Israel’s history. There is, as well, almost a complete volte-face with respect to the value of Old Testament theology.

The books which are surveyed here are those which have been printed in English and are available to the American and Canadian reading public. They range from those of most interest to the advanced student to those that will prove helpful to the Christian worker with little theological training.

Archaeology

In biblical archaeology the Qumran (Dead Sea) documents continue to dominate interest, though important work is being done in other areas as well. Continued concern with the Qumran discoveries is due to two main factors. One is that the discoveries are related to the Bible and to the cultural milieu in which Christianity began its separate course. The other is that the finds are literary and the evidence from them is more clearly understood than it might be with artifacts.

The outstanding authority on the Dead Sea materials in the United States is Frank M. Cross, Jr., whose conclusions on several topics are presented in The Ancient Library of Qumran and Modern Biblical Studies (Doubleday). Though the reader who has no knowledge of Hebrew or modern foreign languages may have to skip most of the extensive but valuable footnotes, he will receive genuine pleasure and important information from the body of the text. Considerable light is shed on Old Testament textual criticism, which is the science of ascertaining the exact text of the original writings. Stimulating also is the presentation of Messianic interpretation of the Old Testament among Jews outside the Pharisaic and early Christian circles.

The Monuments and the Old Testament (Judson Press) is an older text on general Old Testament archaeology by Ira M. Price which has been thoroughly revised by O. R. Sellers and E. Leslie Carlson. In addition to many changes in the original text, chapters have been added to cover archaeological advances in the Near East during the last three decades and, of course, the materials from Palestine itself, including the Dead Sea scrolls. The authors favor Rameses II, who died about 1224 B.C., as the Pharaoh of the oppression, and this dates the exodus much later than the biblical data seem to allow and later also than the date suggested by such men as W. F. Albright and G. Ernest Wright. At times it appears that certain problems have been skirted rather than faced. Yet the book is written with clarity, avoids the use of bewildering technical terms, and ought to be useful for biblical backgrounds.

A more compact handbook is provided by Donald Wiseman’s Illustrations from Biblical Archaeology (Eerdmans). The text is a summary in briefest compass of the evidence which tends to confirm or explain the biblical story. The layman can read it quickly and grasp it readily. For those who want to read more extensively on the subject, a bibliography is provided at the end of the book.

It is almost a century since Julius Wellhausen reconstructed the history of Israel as he conceived it to be from an evolutionary standpoint. The past 25 years have seen his position attacked often and forcefully. No doubt in years to come, some of these attacks will be considered as ‘dated’ as was Wellhausen’s own position. The most recent of newer presentations is that of Martin Noth, whose German work on The History of Israel (Harper) was translated into English. Noth believes that Israel’s history begins only with the settlement of the tribes in Canaan and not, as older historians believed, with the patriarchs or the exodus. For Noth, the patriarchs are dim figures almost lost in the mists of folklore. Contrary also to the views of W. F. Albright, who has written persuasively that the military conquests of Joshua are indicated by archaeological remains, Noth is certain that the Israelites gradually infiltrated the hill country of Palestine in peaceful fashion. Distinctive to Noth is his contention, accepted by a number of modern scholars, that Israel first became a confederacy of 12 tribes at Shechem. There Joshua united several, probably six, tribes which had been in Egypt and were led out by Moses, to other tribes which had never been in Egypt at all. The author recognizes, of course, that this is not the biblical picture but feels that literary evidence rightly handled supports his view. The book is the product of prodigious learning, but conservative readers will find such subjective handling of the Scripture narrative very distressing.

An entirely different type of history is S. M. Wright’s A Brief Survey of the Bible (Loiseaux Bros.). Here the traditional view of the story of the Old Testament is maintained. The book of Job, as representing the patriarchal period, is discussed prior to the Pentateuch. The style is in general devotional, rather than scholarly, and could prove most helpful in high school groups.

An excellent book, dealing with a narrower period of Old Testament history, is The Exilic Age (Westminster), by C. F. Whitley. The author is convinced, wrongly I believe, that Jeremiah disagreed with the principles of Deuteronomy, and that Isaiah 40–55, the Second Isaiah, is from the exilic period. Whitley has a wide acquaintance with the literature on the culture of the Near East and summarizes his conclusions in pleasing form. His positions are well reasoned in most instances. One grasps the poignant grief of Jeremiah, the challenge and consolation of Ezekiel, and the victorious hope of Isaiah as God’s message to his people.

Prophetic Studies

Prophecy in Israel has been an intriguing subject to students of the Bible throughout the history of the Christian Church. Some efforts have been made to reduce biblical prophecy to the level of its counterparts in ancient Babylon and Syria. These efforts have shed some light on the nature of false and even of professional prophecy in Israel, and have served to enhance our appreciation of the canonical prophetic writings.

In a brief study entitled Vision and Prophecy in Amos (Eerdmans), J. D. W. Watts has elicited from modern scholarship, more than from biblical evidence, a picture of the situation in which Amos worked and the conditions under which his prophecy arose. The author conjectures that the words of Amos were recorded by disciples or adherents both in Israel and in Judah, and that the two strands of his message were later united into one book. In this way the question of why Amos predicted the restoration of the house of David to the Northern kingdom is readily answered. He didn’t. The last three chapters originated in the Southern kingdom. Nevertheless, both strands of the book are the authentic message of Amos, and one must not, therefore, be critical of Watts’ investigations. Certainly the reader will have a much clearer view of the syncretistic religion of Jehovah (Yahweh) as it was practised in the Northern kingdom and so rigorously condemned by all the prophets.

A warmhearted study of the ministry and message of Jeremiah is set forth by J. Philip Hyatt in Jeremiah, Prophet of Courage and Hope (Abingdon). A minister could do much in reclaiming the precious truth of this great prophecy by reading this work. It must be said that the author sometimes reaches what is, in my opinion, unwarranted conclusions. Defenders of the doctrine of human depravity have usually found support in Jeremiah 17:9, but Hyatt says categorically that Jeremiah attributed man’s corruption not to natural depravity but to stubbornness which is derived from custom and habit. Theological predilections, however, should not hinder one from seeing the truth that Jeremiah’s message is in reality a plea for repentance with the promise of forgiveness and of hope in God.

Another of the great prophets receives commendable treatment in H. L. Ellison’s Ezekiel, the Man and his Message (Eerdmans). Ellison brings out the high points in the prophet’s ministry while he is at the same time moderate in his interpretation. Dispensationalists will disagree with the author’s view of the battle of Gog and Magog and of chapters 40–48. Amillennialists will not agree with his handling of certain passages. But neither can resent the kindly and scriptural approach which characterizes his work.

Isaiah has been in the forefront of discussion for over a hundred years, and the heat of debate has only increased with the appearance of the Qumran manuscripts. Conservatives have found evidence from the Isaiah scroll that the book was considered a unit by the second century B.C. The theories of radicals, who said that the book was united in its present form only about 150 B.C., have been refuted. The hypothesis of Duhm, that Isaiah falls into three parts, each in itself a collection, is still popular among critical scholars. E. J. Young, in Who Wrote Isaiah? (Eerdmans) has made an attempt to prove that the original Isaiah is the author of the corpus of the book which bears his name. The arguments adduced are valid, I believe, but likely to be unimpressive to those who hold a low view of the authority of Jesus Christ or the trustworthiness of the New Testament record. An example of a writer who holds such a view is Sheldon H. Blank, author of Prophetic Faith in Isaiah (Harper). He is of Judaistic faith, and it is not surprising that he identifies the Servant of the Lord in Isaiah as the national Israel. The Servant in his suffering is a musar which Blank understands to mean one who has suffered as a gruesome example to others. The concept of the vicarious suffering of the Servant is dismissed. Hebrew verb forms are said to indicate that the Servant’s sufferings are all in the past and his glory in the future. It is impossible for one to follow the rather cavalier assignment of so few passages to the original Isaiah and so many to the “later Isaiahs” of whom one would scarce venture to say how many there were. The Christian reader will disagree rather radically with the author’s point of view which is nevertheless clearly expressed.

Commentaries

The scarcity of good commentaries is a trend to be noted, though Concordia Publishing House has been valiantly filling part of the gap. Those who knew and loved the vigorous preaching of the late Dr. Walter A. Maier will welcome a commentary on Nahum which comes largely from his hand. The author is forthright in his disagreement with some modern views of the prophecy, but those who, with Dr. Maier, believe that the Scriptures are the living oracles of God, will welcome the enlightening exposition and its careful use of the Hebrew original.

The same publishers are in the course of producing Luther’s works in English translation. The translators have been carefully chosen for their ability to bring the medieval Latin and German of the Reformer into good English idiom, and the results of their labors are quite gratifying. In the Old Testament field one volume has appeared covering Genesis 1–5 as well as three volumes of selected Psalms. Naturally much of Luther’s material is dated as, for example, when he finds in the Turkish conquests in Europe a fulfillment of Psalm 2:1–2. Many of the expositions reflect his own soul’s struggle. Yet, as he found the timeless truths of the Word to be relevant to his own needs and those of his day, his presentation of them may help us to do the same. The historical value of these publications is unquestionably excellent.

A further publication of Luther’s commentary material is the appearance of his Commentary on Genesis (Zondervan), translated by J. Theodore Mueller. There is a freshness to the translation as well as a preservation of Luther’s own inimitable style. The work is less a commentary, perhaps, than a series of expositions in which Luther managed to cast off the allegorical style of medieval interpreters while preserving a Christological balance.

A new critical commentary has appeared in the work of T. Henshaw, The Latter Prophets (Macmillan). The prophetic writings are arranged in what the author believes to be their chronological order, so that Isaiah 56–66 is placed after Haggai, and Joel and Jonah follow Malachi. Attention is given to the influence of the prophet and his ideas on the current of biblical or Judaistic thought, a feature which provides a unifying element in the book itself.

Biblical Theology

I would draw attention to two works on Old Testament biblical theology which were reviewed last year in CHRISTIANITY TODAY (Vol. III, Nos. 4 and 6). A Hebrew Christian, Dr. Jacob Jocz, deals with one aspect of biblical theology in his work, A Theology of Election (Macmillan). While Dr. Jocz is very obviously a dialectical theologian, his work should stimulate every Christian to search out the biblical relation of Israel and the Church in the divine election. The author’s knowledge of rabbinic and Judaistic learning, combined with his love of Jesus Christ as Messiah, has provided matter worth reading. His prejudice against infant baptism, which is stated several times, seems based upon the abuse rather than the Reformed understanding of that practice. His method of formulating the New Testament doctrine of election strongly resembles that of Barth. These comments are not intended to depreciate the many values of the book, however.

Ludwig Kohler has long been respected in Europe for his Old Testament studies. It is gratifying to see an English translation of his Old Testament Theology. The majority of biblical theologians have denied that theology is presented in the Bible as a system, yet all of them have been obliged to use some system in their presentation of material since the human mind refuses to be disorganized. Kohler’s material is arranged under topics usually reserved for dogmatic theologians, namely, theology, anthropology, and soteriology. Kohler finds divine revelation in God’s names, his covenants, his laws, but not in the cult or ceremonial laws until the time of Ezekiel (p. 195). The spirit of Kohler’s work is epitomized by his closing sentences which deal with the Messiah. “This Messiah—if one may really call him that—is a Messiah who suffers. He is a Messiah who suffers vicariously. At this point the theology of the Old Testament comes to an end. In the New Testament the question is asked: ‘Understandest thou what thou readest?’ ”

If any trend distinguishes the direction of Old Testament studies at the present time, it is that which recognizes that the substance of biblical writing is often more important than the source. In some instances this trend is carried so far as to attempt to hold to a fairly orthodox theology alongside the most radical views of the literature of the Old Testament. In some other instances it has led to a higher respect for the integrity of biblical documents. In almost any case, whether a writer be an evangelical or not, consistency is a jewel not often obtained.

I list below certain titles which are either reprints of older works or are more largely devotional in nature:

Otto J. Baab: Prophetic Preaching (Abingdon). This is a homiletical study using an alliterative outline of the prophet’s passion, his problem, purpose, and power. It makes for inspirational reading.

J. Allen Blair: Living Reliantly (Loiseaux). Here is a beautiful devotional study of the 23rd Psalm which is recommended for private or family reading.

F. J. Denbeaux: Understanding the Bible (Westminster). Part of a series in the Layman’s Theological Library, this book is an effort to make the main theological ideas of the Bible pertinent to modern needs in modern terms.

H. G. G. Herklots: The Ten Commandments and Modern Man (Essential Books). An incisive application of the spirit of the Decalogue to twentieth century ethics, this work is slanted toward readers in Great Britain, but yields too much to older critical views. It is nevertheless a convicting exposition.

D. T. Niles: Studies in Genesis (Westminster). The author interprets certain aspects of the Genesis story in terms of modern discussions of Eros and Agape, of Chronos and Kairos, which as categories were far removed from the ancient writers. It is however an effort to help us see ourselves as God sees us.

Arthur W. Pink: The Life of David (Zondervan). This two-volume reprint is a fine, devotional exposition by a great conference speaker.

Samuel Ridout: The Book of Job (Reprint). Judges and Ruth (Loiseaux). These expositions from a Brethren point of view breathe life and warmth. They are recommended as aids in preparing for Bible study groups and midweek devotional meetings.

END

David W. Kerr has been Professor of Old Testament at Gordon Divinity School since 1953. He holds the B.A. degree from the University of Western Ontario, Canada, and the B.D. and Th.M. degrees from Westminster Theological Seminary.

It is easier to recognize a good book than a significant book. A significant book is one that helps make history. A work of theological import is one that helps to make church history. That is, a theological book can, in some way influence preaching. Perhaps to mark certain books of a year just past as significant is a daring enterprise; one can only make a considered guess as to those which are most likely to be of influence in the future.

What follows, then, will be a sampling of books, as likely as certain others, to achieve the status of significance. I have chosen some of them because they represent new statements by authors whose achievements are already notable. Others I have chosen because they give a hint of changing perspective within a given school of theological conviction. And a few books will be mentioned simply because they are especially good. My selections are from Protestant theology, written in English, and with strong emphasis on American publications.

Barth On Election

Undoubtedly the most significant publication of the year was the excellent translation of Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics, Volume II/2. T. and T. Clark in England and Scribners in the United States have published this volume, and it contains Barth’s treatment of “The Election of God” and “The Command of God.” For an understanding of Barth, this is a crucial book, inasmuch as divine election in his thinking is the substance of the Gospel, and it is of this subject that he says he was “driven irresistibly to reconstruction” of traditional statements.

According to Barth, election makes God what he is. It is as true to say that God is what he is because of his election, as it is to say that election is what it is because of what God is. Election is God’s eternal commitment to man; this means that God is love. But it must be remembered that Jesus Christ is the foundation of divine election. He is not merely the ordained means of securing the salvation of the elect. He is the Elect One in whom all men are elected. Jesus is the basis of the election of all others. Therefore, Jesus Christ, being the heart of election, is what God is.

But even as Christ is the Elect in whom all men are embraced, he is also the Reprobate in whom all are rejected. Reprobation and election are ultimately equal in God, but in a dialectical sense. It is Jesus—and therefore God himself—who is the Reprobate. And all of God’s reprobating wrath is borne by him. There is none left for individual men. For men there is nothing left but God’s triumphant grace. Reprobation is defeated because God accepts it for himself in Christ. This is the good news of the Gospel and why election is the substance of that Good News. As one reads Barth’s treatment, he senses that Barth is filled with joy at the message he is hammering out for preaching on the anvil of his theology: God is for man. This is the volume that pushed Barth to the brink of universalism, though not in the old sense. I have personally tasted the vehemence with which Barth denies universalism, but have never been able to understand the logic of his denial.

Berkouwer And Maurice

Barth rejects the traditional notion of double predestination, but he teaches a kind of double predestination himself. He disavows the doctrine that God in eternity selects some out of the fallen race for salvation and by inherent virtue of that choice rejects the others. He denies the equal ultimacy of election and reprobation in this sense, but teaches the equal ultimacy of election and reprobation in the dialectical sense, with election triumphing over reprobation in Christ. G. C. Berkouwer, in his significant work on predestination, rejects both the traditional and the Barthian view of the equal ultimacy of election and reprobation. I refer to his Divine Election to be published by Eerdmans in March. Berkouwer argues that, while election is wholly of eternal, unconditioned grace, reprobation is the divine response to sin. Election is unconditioned by man’s merit; reprobation is conditioned by man’s demerit. Election is of unconditioned grace; reprobation is of conditioned wrath. They are not equally ultimate in God’s mind. With regard to the eternal decree of God, this view leaves us in imbalance. But Berkouwer does not try to achieve harmony in the eternal mind of God. He insists that he, and we with him, must stop at the limits set by revelation. If logic insists on getting behind the revealed into eternity, it is no longer the logic of Christian theology, but the logic of presumptive speculation. This is probably the most important of the translated works of Berkouwer published thus far. (Another Berkouwer book, Faith and Perseverance, was published by Eerdmans in the spring of 1958.)

There is an interesting parallel between Barth’s doctrine of election and that of F. D. Maurice, the Anglican theologian of the 19th century whose Theological Essays were republished in 1958 by Harper. Like Barth, Maurice viewed all men as elect in Christ and viewed Christ as the eternal basis for God’s decision in favor of man. Also like Barth, Maurice denied universalism. Yet, with Barth, he denied the picture of the separation of the sheep and the goats. This book contains a lot more than the doctrine of election, and Maurice is having a revival of influence in England and America.

Tillich On Faith

Karl Barth once said that faith as such did not interest him. For Berkouwer, too, faith in itself is not enough. Faith is important only in relationship to its object or content. But Paul Tillich’s book of 1958 is an analysis of faith as such. His Dynamics of Faith, published by Harper, analyzes faith as a subjective concern, and it is plain that Tillich considers faith in itself as extremely significant. This book does not, perhaps, carry the weight of Tillich’s Systematic Theology. But it is much more readable than the systematics, and makes clear, as the systematics do not, what Tillich means by faith as “ultimate concern for the ultimate.” The book contains a discerning analysis of the subjective aspect of faith, and much profitable criticism of man’s temptation to place his faith in things less than ultimate, but it misses being a genuine analysis of Christian faith. Christian faith, let us say in Berkouwer’s sense, is idolatry to Tillich. For, with Berkouwer, faith has meaning only as commitment to a Person, and this to Tillich is concern for that which is less than ultimate. Tillich also criticizes the de-mythologizing movement of Rudolph Bultmann as being negative and merely a substitution of a modern myth for an ancient one.

Mythology And Criticism

Scribner’s publication of Bultmann’s Jesus Christ and Mythology gives a rather clear explanation of what demythologizing is all about. Bultmann tells us, for instance, that he does not ask us to reject the mythological elements of Scripture (which include everything supernatural about Jesus), but only to interpret them. That is, he asks us to get the real message which the writers of the New Testament clothed in a mythology no longer capable of being taken literally. He explains the role of existentialism in his theology, denying that existentialism as a philosophy determines his thinking. And he makes clear what he means by the “nowness” of the Word of God. This book should help us judge whether, when Bultmann has removed the “unreal” stumbling blocks from the Gospel, he still has the Gospel.

Gustaf Wingren’s Theology in Conflict: Nygren-Barth-Bultmann, published by Muhlenberg Press, is a well-informed analysis of the principles by which these three theologians interpret the Bible. Wingren concludes that each fails at the starting point of hermeneutics, and that therefore each is led to unbiblical conclusions. Wingren inclines to over-simplify at times, but he has his finger on the pulse of theological controversy at its crucial points, and offers the best monograph of dialectical theology published this year.

Authority Of Scripture

Two small but potentially significant books came from evangelical writers last year. One of them is J. I. Packer’s Fundamentalism and the Word of God, published in paper binding by Eerdmans. Here is a forceful, lucid, and informed defense of the authority of Scripture as understood by evangelicals today. Readers may wonder whether there is not a subtle change of position in it from that, say, of B. B. Warfield. Packer is more willing than Warfield to allow for symbolic elements in such accounts as paradise and the fall. Perhaps more important, the reader may ask whether Packer defends the infallibility (a term he does not relish) of everything written in Scripture or of everything taught by Scripture (cf., for instance, page 169). There is a difference.

Unity Of The Church

The other book is Eerdmans’ publication of G. W. Bromiley’s The Unity and Disunity of the Church. Bromiley works from the important premise that the unity of the church is a reality created in Jesus Christ. Whether church unity is necessary or desirable is not the real question. Unity must be a fact. Churches cannot be neutral towards it. What are the foci around which unity may be visibly expressed? One of them is faith. But Bromiley will not equate faith with a creedal statement to which all churches must subscribe. Faith is man’s response to God’s seizure of him through the Spirit. It is this faith which is the focus of church unity. Another point for unity is the Bible. However, says Bromiley, we may not insist that all churches subscribe to a particular view of the nature of the Bible. Unity around the Bible must mean unity in Christ. Again, Bromiley insists on unity in the truth. But, he warns, this may not mean “unity in our own apprehension of truth.” Our own apprehensions of the truth are always partial. Unity in the truth must mean unity in Christ who is Truth. It would appear that Bromiley is sounding a new note for evangelicals on the subject of church unity, and his book ought to be read with an open mind and a deep concern for the unity of the church.

One other book on the same subject is titled The Nature of the Unity We Seek, a report on the North American Conference on Faith and Order, edited by Paul S. Minear and published by Bethany. The meaty part of the book is found in the committee reports, particularly the report on “Doctrinal Consensus and Conflict.” This report reasserts the sufficiency for membership in the ecumenical movement of the confession that Jesus Christ is “God and Saviour.” Yet it allows every church to supplement and interpret it at will. This freedom to interpret the confession, even in a way that contradicts its biblical meaning, is what offends many non-participating evangelicals. The whole report is significant reading, however, and may well be read for comparison with Bromiley’s book.

Doctrine Of Man And Creeds

Two quite different books on man came out in 1958. One is E. L. Mascall’s The Importance of Being Human, published by Columbia, a lucid, patient effort at restating the doctrine of man in Thomistic, metaphysical terms. Mascall’s thesis, in brief, is that man’s importance must be measured in terms of what he is rather than what he does: man’s being, not his function, is his true significance. The book is a worthy response to the functionalist and existentialist notion of man. The other book is by a psychologist with a theological bent. It is C. G. Jung’s The Undiscovered Self, published by Little, Brown and Company. This one will be used by preachers because of its profound critique of the modern dilemma, and because it points to a religious solution. The individual, lost in a world where things and masses swallow the real man, can recover himself only through a genuine religious experience, only by “anchoring himself in God.” The reader will have to keep asking what Jung means by God and whether Jung’s “genuine religious experience” is meant to be an experience with God or an experience of the basic, unconscious psychic stream that pulsates at the heart of the universe.

One book on historical theology should be mentioned for its sheer excellence. It is J. N. D. Kelly’s Early Christian Doctrines, published in England by A. and C. Black, and issued last month by Oxford in this country. Kelly, who had previously given us a standard work on the early creeds, takes us in this one from the beginnings of theological development to Chalcedon. Kelly’s combination of amazing clarity and exhaustive scholarship can hardly be bettered.

Not theology in the strict sense, but a brilliant penetration of Christian thought into the cultural problems of modern man is Henry Zylstra’s Testament of Vision. Published by Eerdmans under an unfortunately vague title, the book contains some of the most incisive and wise essays written by an evangelical writer in this generation. Christian wisdom informed by learning, disciplined by tradition, and mellowed by love, is brought to bear on man and his world.

Several books deserve more than the brief mention I am giving them here. For instance, Westminster added two books to the Library of Christian Classics: Western Asceticism, edited by O. Chadwick, and Calvin’s Commentaries, edited by J. Haroutunian. Concordia and Muhlenberg continued their great Luther project, giving us Luther’s Lectures on Genesis 1–5 and Church and Ministry II. Baker published Berkouwer’s Conflict with Rome, a patient discussion of theological divide separating Protestants from Rome, a treatment that exemplifies theological controversy at its fairest. Then there are L. Hodgson’s For Faith and Freedom from Harper, being Hodgson’s Gifford Lectures; G. S. Hendry’s The Gospel of the Incarnation from Westminster; and Essays on the Lord’s Supper, by O. Cullmann and F. J. Leenhardt, one of a series of Ecumenical Studies in Worship published by John Knox Press.

There are more books that should be discussed. These at least provide a sampler. The reader will doubtless discover other theological books that to him rank among the significant publications of 1958. But the real importance of what has come from the presses in 1958 will have to be heard from the pulpits of the church in 1959 and years to come. God grant that the theology of 1958 will correct and not corrupt the preaching of the Church in the time our Lord grants us still to preach.

END

Lewis B. Smedes is Professor of Bible at Calvin College. He holds the Th. B. degree from Calvin Theological Seminary and the Th. D. from the Free University of Amsterdam. He is the author of The Incarnation: Trends in Modern Anglican Theology, published in 1953 by J. H. Kok, The Netherlands.

The Multitude of His Mercies

Thy mercies, Lord, a multitude, A never-failing throng, Pursue me now and have pursued My life with joy along. And ever in that multitude I stand in deep amaze; O Lord, though swift to know Thee good, How slow was I to praise!

MABEL LINDSAY

As ONE SURVEYS current theology, he often discovers certain subjects that rarely become parts of theological discussion. We once observed this to be the case with the subject of prayer. Devotional literature, to be sure, treats the subject often. But theological literature has a tendency to ignore prayer, a fact that certainly suggests a weakness in theology. But I am thinking at present of another subject that seldom finds a place in theological writing. I refer to the consequences of sin.

I am not thinking of the judgment of God, nor of death as the wages of sin. These consequences of sin are treated in every Christian theology. I refer to the consequences of man’s sinful acts that become irreparable in history. Evil deeds have an influence that can sometimes become an irrevocable part of reality. These consequences are not removed even by divine forgiveness. It would be helpful if, when forgiveness is discussed by theologians, these irreparable consequences were also given genuinely honest treatment.

Someone may ask whether the thought of irreparable consequences of sin does not do an injustice to the reality of divine forgiveness. Why should we be concerned about the abiding consequences of sins in the light of the forgiveness of sins? It seems to me that it is very important that we keep in mind the real consequences of sin. It is striking that Paul, who has known divine forgiveness, still refers often to the sins of his own past. He confesses that he takes first place among sinners (1 Tim. 1:15), for he was formerly a “blasphemer and a persecutor and injurious.” But this “formerly” does not mean that his previous sins no longer play a role in his thoughts. He calls himself the “least of the apostles, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Cor. 15:9). Being least does not inhibit him from prosecuting his calling with joy. But the memory of his own “formerly” does not leave him. It is difficult to imagine just what the meaning of their own “formerly” played in the lives of men like David and Peter. But that it occupied a place in their thoughts is without question.

Forgiveness is a great grace and puts one’s sinfulness in a new light. But there are consequences of sin that cannot be made good again and for this reason are not easily put out of mind. There was probably a good measure of sadness in Paul’s heart (as in the hearts of David and Peter) as he recalled his past. It is surely not the intention of the Bible that we should be concerned about and bring to their remembrance the past sins of other people. God himself no longer remembers the sins of others—his children—but throws them forever behind him. (“Thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea,” Micah 7:19). But we can hardly forget our own.

Paul, David, and Peter, keep in mind the consequences of past sins that they are no longer able to set right. A governor, for instance, can cause great suffering to the people through his sins and, though later become converted, be unable to set his former sins in order. His acts, once they have passed into history, are beyond his control. There are, of course, instances of past sins whose consequences can be set right. Zaccheus was probably able to give back four-fold of what he had stolen. But there are also debts that we can never pay. We encounter in our past sins something that is irrevocable and irreparable. It does not stunt the reality of divine forgiveness. But it does accentuate the terrible realness of sins and their consequences.

It is obvious that such facts play a role in the memory of believers. A believer is not able to set himself at peace in face of his past. There are shadows that hover over a forgiven sinner’s life. And there is nothing in the Bible to suggest that we should not think about this simply in view of the forgiveness of past sins. I believe that precisely in view of the reality of forgiveness, our sadness over the irreparable consequences of sins should be real. The consequences of our sins extend beyond our reach and stretch outside of our control. Not everyone has Zaccheus’ opportunity to make good his past sins.

We can say with certainty that there are more consequences of our sins than we are conscious of. What a vast number of ill words have been spoken, what an enormity of uncharitableness, deceit, hatefulness lies in our past. We have forgotten them, but their consequences still live. Such consequences make sin a terribly dangerous thing. It is a disturbing thought that there is so much in our past that we can never make good, that the possibilities for restoration are so limited. In view of this, it is hard to understand why the subject of sin’s consequences should be so neglected. Is it because writers are afraid that they may minimize the greatness of forgiveness? Or is it that we have too little concern for the fact that consequences of sins are not destroyed even by forgiveness?

We must not minimize the reality of forgiveness, but neither may we minimize the reality of sin’s consequences. The problem that remains with forgiven sin is our powerlessness to undo its consequences. Must we, in the face of the irreparable reality of the consequences of sin, unshackle them from our memories? I think that we must be saddened at our past sins and then bring the consequences of our past sins to God. We must pray that God will do what we cannot do about them, that he will restore what we have destroyed. There is always the possibility that is suggested in the story of Joseph: “You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.” We must pray that God will break the chain of sin’s consequences and even turn it to good. A sensitive Christian will realize that he is himself first responsible for grasping every opportunity that remains for him to repair the consequences of his sins. But these opportunities are limited. We are often faced with our own impotence and smallness in the face of the aftereffects of our own deeds.

We have said that the consequences of sin are seldom discussed in theology. This is a short-coming in our theological discussions. For our resistance to evil is easily weakened, and evil has a way of carrying its consequences through generations, going beyond our ability to repair them. David’s prayer, after his great sin that brought harm to the nation, testifies against our own convenient forgetfulness of our sins’ consequences. “Do good in thy good pleasure with Zion; build thou the walls of Jerusalem” (Ps. 51:18).

This review is prepared successively for CHRISTIANITY TODAY by four evangelical scholars: Professor John H. Gerstner of the United States, Principal S. Barton Babbage of Australia, Dr. Philip E. Hughes of England and Professor G. C. Berkouwer of the Netherlands.