Jeff Shelnutt's Blog

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The understandable tendency of the Protestant church is to lean heavily on the doctrine of justification. After all, as Calvin rightly appraised, “Justification is the main hinge upon which salvation turns.” 

The Reformation was largely a backlash against the Roman Catholic interpretation of sanctification–a “sanctification” divorced from the biblical foundation of justification. In summarizing Martin Luther’s appraisal of the matter, a modern scholar writes: “Sanctification is…simply the art of getting used to justification.” 

I point this out because Paul Miller does a superb job of expounding the unique role of sanctification in J-Curve. Primarily focusing on the New Testament book of Philippians, Miller references directly and indirectly a significant number of (footnoted) sources, with anecdotal accounts generously sprinkled throughout (those familiar with A Praying Life will recognize some crossover here).  

The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ lies at the core of Christianity. However, a read through the New Testament reveals an ongoing process of deaths and resurrections that will occur throughout the lifetime of a believer. These are what the author refers to as the “J-Curve.”

Miller builds off of this thesis: “Jesus lived the J-Curve for me [that is, justification], so that He can reproduce the J-Curve in me [that is, sanctification].”  

He identifies three primary ways to trace the curve: (1) “In the repentance J-Curve, we put to death the evil in us.” (2) “In the love J-Curve, my dying is for your rising.” (3) “In the suffering J-Curve, external dying leads to internal resurrection.”   

The book manages to strike a manageable balance between the theoretical and the practical. It might not appeal to those who would prefer a strictly academic treatment. At the same time, I imagine a number of readers will appreciate the accessibility of the material. 

Any time theological concepts are expounded, the danger is that explanation will be divorced from application. Because Miller takes such pains to make sure this isn’t the case, he goes over some of the same ground from multiple angles. This might seem unnecessarily repetitive. For me, there was enough variation on the theme, as well as consideration of its practical import, that this was not a problem.  

The Incarnation is the J-Curve. The Incarnation defines love. Just as Jesus willingly humbled Himself even to the point of death, so love is sacrificial, costly and inconvenient. But, the author argues, love as defined by the Incarnation renews a vision for goodness and beauty. Goodness and beauty are abstract concepts. They need fleshing out. 

“Since the Reformation, the church (in general) has been better at seeing sin than seeing and celebrating love. We have a clear vision of what we shouldn’t be but a dull vision of what we should be. Our wonderful Reformation emphasis on sin and grace needs to be enlarged to encompass a vision of beauty and love. Otherwise, we will get stuck in the darkness.”

Life consists of a series of mini-deaths and mini-resurrections that often occur within a larger, multiple year death and resurrection. All of these, of course, find their expression in the grand narrative of Jesus’ death and resurrection. The author takes a biblical lense, polishes it, and holds it up for the reader to see more clearly and with greater clarity what the Lord is up to. 

Life is hard. How do we deal with unfairness, raw-deals and suffering? Consider:

“Almost everyone I’ve seen who has been trapped by bitterness has focused on the big dying and been blind to multiple mini-resurrections in their lives. Almost counterintuitively, the most thankful and happy people I know are confined to wheelchairs…People cultivate bitterness by retelling the story of what life has done for them. We can cultivate joy by watching for the Spirit to re-enact the story of Jesus’ dying and rising.” 

My hat is off to Miller for tackling this topic. Since Jesus said it is incumbent upon the Christian to take up their cross daily, it is certainly worthwhile to explore what that looks like. The church can benefit from the way the author has handled it.       

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This abridgment of the author’s original two volume, 1000-plus page biography is an aerial survey of George Whitefield’s experiences and exploits. Despite its condensed form, Arnold Dallimore’s George Whitefield gives the reader a sense of its subject’s epic level accomplishments.

Whitefield preached to crowds at times estimated to be from 20,000 to 30,000 people. This was when London only had a population of 700,000, amplification systems didn’t exist, and people generally only knew through word of mouth when he was to preach .

Riveted into absolute silence, huge audiences of men and women stood shoulder to shoulder as Whitefield spoke for nearly an hour. It wasn’t because they were accustomed to such a practice. Open-air preaching was obsolete before Whitefield reintroduced it. And it wasn’t because they were interested–at least not intitially. Church attendance had reached historic lows in the 18th century.

Whitefield possessed a rare gift of oratorical prowess. Simply put, he was a captivating communicator. Even the notoriously agnostic Ben Franklin, a contemporary and friend, wrote of Whitefield’s eloquence and “wonderful power over the hearts…of his hearers.” 

But the primary factor in Whitefield’s influence was his abandonment to the will of God. He famously said,

“The whole world is now my parish. Wheresoever my Master calls me I am ready to go and preach the everlasting Gospel.”

And go he went. For over thirty years  Whitefield traveled constantly throughout England, Wales and Scotland, preaching an average of 40 hours a week. 

He also managed to sail seven times across the Atlantic to the American colonies. Whitefield’s preaching in America, alongside that of Jonathan Edwards, ignited the First Great Awakening. And his influence on John and Charles Wesley, who followed his example of open-air preaching, transformed the moral fabric of English society in a generation. 

I appreciated the view Dallimore offered from the “other side” of the Wesley-Whitefield divide. I’ve read more on John Wesley, the result being that I’m better acquainted with the Arminian-sympatheic perspective on the disagreement. 

According to Dallimore, Whitefield graciously pulled away from the controversy, not by altering his Calvinistic views, but by essentially handing John Wesley the administrative oversight of Methodism. Whitefield wasn’t concerned with fame, recognition, or titles. He eventually even resigned from leadership over his own wing, the Calvinistic Methodist Association, to devote more time to his passion–itinerant preaching. 

Whitefield knew where his own gifts lay. Yet he consistently promoted others ahead over himself. John Wesley, with his obvious organizational gifts, was no exception. It broke Whitefield’s heart that he had a falling out with the Wesley brothers. The breach in the friendship  was later to be mended, but of course, the two theological branches of Methodism never came back together. Today the Arminian brand is globally dominant.

An advantage of the author’s treatment of Whitefield’s influence is also a minor drawback. I understand the attempt to balance the historical record that has tended to highlight Wesley’s contributions over Whitefield’s. Largely due to Dallimore’s efforts, this has been remedied. 

But the author’s steady aggrandizement of Whitefield is a bit excessive. Still, for all of the accusations and slander that was heaped upon Whitefield and Wesley in their lifetimes, no credible criticism of their respective characters, to my knowledge, has ever emerged.

Dallimore does admit that Whitefield had his faults. He summarizes these in the last chapter. 1) “In his early twenties [Whitefield] placed too much emphasis on impressions rather than on the clear statements of Scripture.” 2) “He too easily accepted the criticisms made against certain ministers and repeated them.” And, 3) “His chief fault was his condoning of the practice of slavery, the one dark blot on his otherwise spotless record.”       

Dexterity with words and clever turns of phrases could never explain the enormous effect Whitefield’s preaching had on all classes of people of entire nations. His effectiveness lay in his desire to please God alone, and in his evident love for people. Always one to rise above denominational differences, Whitefield did so without ever compromising his core evangelical beliefs.          

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Only two short years after fleeing his beloved homeland, Tyndale published the first edition of his English New Testament. However, this was not without significant setback.

Tyndale and his assistant, William Roye, found a willing printer in Cologne. Yet even in Luther-friendly Germany there were those opposed to any activity that smacked of reform.

One such enemy, John Cochlaeus, overheard a conversation among the workers in a local print shop. Further loosening their lips with wine, Cochlaeus was simultaneously shocked and pleased to discover that the English Scriptures were in the process of being printed right where he stood.  

Printing was not only time-consuming, but also an incredibly expensive undertaking. So Tyndale had a network of local benefactors and sympathizers. Catching wind of Cochlaeus’ snooping and a resultant government order to seize the type and the two Englishman, Tyndale and Roye fled up the Rhine River to Worms. They were only able to take a few sheets with them in the haste.

The translator entered a city where he had no connections or financial support. His dedication to persevere, however, reflected his confidence in God’s call. Never one to wallow in self-pity, Tyndale located another willing printer. The first smuggled copies of the New Testament slipped into England in 1526.

Upon hearing that a copy of his translation had been ceremoniously burnt by Bishop Tunstall in London, Tyndale made this eerily prophetic comment: “In burning the New Testament they did none other thing than I looked for; no more shall they do if they burn me also, if it be God’s will it shall so be.”

A gifted writer as well as translator, The Parable of the Wicked Mammon was the first published work Tyndale put his name to. True to his evangelical theology, the book is an exposition of the doctrine of justification by faith.

Following this book in late 1528 was Tyndale’s most popular and influential book, The Obedience of the Christian Man. In it he defends the reformers against the false charge that they taught rebellion against lawful authority. “In this book, as much as anywhere, Tyndale showed his ability to handle the Scriptures. He was a master of exegesis.”¹ 

And it was to the Scriptures that Tyndale continued to devote the majority of his time. He worked on a revision of the New Testament which he finally sent across the channel to England in 1534. In the meantime he also translated the Pentateuch (the first five books of Moses) from Hebrew into English, publishing it in 1530.

Tyndale’s skill as a translator and scholar are evidenced in the King James Version of the Bible. Nearly 100 years later, the 47 translators of the KJV used 90% of Tyndale’s New Testament. He was fluent in at least seven languages. One of these was Hebrew, which he virtually taught himself. This is an astounding feat considering that Hebrew scholarship was still in its infancy in 16th-century Europe. There were very few grammars even in existence.

It must also be kept in mind that Tyndale’s work was done almost entirely in hiding. He was a wanted man. Bounty hunters and agent provocateurs sought to capture and bring him back to King Henry VIII in England. He endured the pressure of being constantly on guard and endlessly changing locations when it appeared danger was at hand.

Yet, despite the intensity of his life, Tyndale’s scholarship was superb. It rivaled those, like Luther and Melanchthon, who both had the advantage of a settled and protected existence.

“When Tyndale sat down to his translation, he had no-one to guide him, no vast library at his disposal, no friendly scholar to check and criticise his work, no books on the principles of translation and no model from which to copy. He was alone, as he almost always was… Tyndale’s New Testament was earthy, almost rustic and certainly plain enough for the ploughman. He made the entire Bible what God intended it to be: a book for the people.” ¹  

Tyndale as translator and scholar is well known. But he was no hypocrite. His life and character were shaped by the Scriptures he diligently labored over and so dearly loved.

It is a testimony to his godliness that his most ardent enemy, Thomas Moore, spoke well of his character. “[He is] a man of sober and honest living who looked and preached holily.”

“The sixteenth century was also the age of invective when no man’s character was safe from the bitterest abuse of his enemy’s pen. There were no laws of libel and no holds barred. If there had been one chink in Tyndale’s holy character, we can be sure that his enemies would have exploited it.”¹

“Even compared with his fellow reformers Tyndale stands out. His words may be strong and sharp at times, but they were never scurrilous or cruel; however ill-treated he never railed in return, and his strongest words were in defence of his friends, not himself.”¹

When it came to theologically controversial issues, true to his graceful nature, Tyndale wisely counseled others to major on the majors. “If you are assured you are right, and another man is of an opposite mind, but the matter is of no major significance to the heart of the Gospel, ‘you will laugh and let it pass, and refer the thing to other men, and stick stiffly and stubbornly in earnest and necessary things.’”²

“Tyndale declared his desire never to cause strife over opinions, never to gain a personal following and never to translate from any other motive than to lead men to faith in Christ and to a holy life in consequence.”²

This approach to controversy was in stark contrast to other notable reformers. For instance, Zwingli and Luther “held a bad-tempered colloquy at Marburg in 1529… It ended in frivolous argument and bad blood. As in much else, both sides used passages from the Bible to justify their differences.”² In this case, the issue concerned their differing views of the Lord’s Supper. Though Tyndale held his own interpretation, he lamented that the matter was allowed to divide two influential men who otherwise had very similar views on the most important matter–the Gospel.

Tyndale was not one to merely study the Scriptures without applying them to his own life. In Antwerp, where he was eventually apprehended, he set aside two days a week for what he called his “pastime.” On Mondays he visited the English men and women who’d left Britain for the sake of conscience. He ministered the Word among them while encouraging them in their exile. He could surely relate!   

On Saturdays, Tyndale roamed the town seeking out the poor and sick. When he found cases of genuine hardship, he did his best to assist. The English merchants at Antwerp were by now giving him a stipend. It was his first secure income since leaving his homeland a decade before. But he gave most of it away to the needy.

Tyndale’s self-deprecating view of himself assisted him to extend grace to others. “God made me ill-favoured in this world,” he wrote, “speechless and rude, dull and slow-witted.” It was his honesty and personal strength that kept him from bigotry and endeared him to those he met.

His naturally compassionate nature also made him an easy target for his betrayer, Henry Phillips. Though years of living in exile and hiding had made him cautious, Tyndale still possessed the naivety of a child when it came to acknowledging the often deceitful and cruel motives of men.

Taken in by Phillips’ silver tongue and feigned kindness, Tyndale was seized in a narrow alley in Antwerp. It was a trap laid by Phillips. Tyndale would spend the next year and a half in a cold, damp cell while formal charges were brought against him. He was condemned as a heretic by the church and sentenced to death by the state.

One day early in October 1536, William Tyndale was tied to a stake, strangled and burned. His last words were a prayer: “Lord, open the king of England’s eyes.” Like his forerunner, John Wycliffe, Tyndale’s ashes were cast into the water, the nearby River Zenne.

The English Bible–of which millions have read and received spiritual help–is Tyndale’s legacy. It exists because one man chose to answer God’s call. 

¹ Edwards, Brian H. God’s Outlaw. Darlington, England: Evangelical Press, 1976.

² Moynahan, Brian. God’s Bestseller. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2002.

For an academic appraisal of Tyndale’s life and scholarship, see:

Daniel, David. William Tyndale: A Biography. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994.

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He preached only a handful of sermons. His books were burned and his name was scorned. 

Spending over a decade in hiding, he never married, had few and fleeting friends, possessed little and died relatively young. Yet William Tyndale’s tremendous impact upon the world is still felt today.

Tyndale was born in 1494 in a village in western England. Though his childhood experiences are unrecorded, the events that shaped his times are not. England had long been under the foreign dominion of the Pope. But this was about to change.

Over a century before Tyndale’s birth an English scholar and priest had dared to challenge the Roman Catholic church. From his perch in Oxford, John Wycliffe declared that the Bible was the “highest authority for every Christian.” In the 1300’s, this was heresy punishable by death.

Denying the biblical basis for the veneration of saints and transubstantiation–even questioning the authority of the Pope–Wycliffe avoided the flames only because he had friends in high government places. Most troubling of all to the church, however, he undertook to translate the Scriptures into English.

Poor preachers armed with Wycliffe’s Scripture portions dared to teach and read them to the common man. Roaming the English countryside, they were called Lollards, a derogatory term that means “to mumble.” Lollards still agitated the church authorities in Tyndale’s day. And they were still executed for their trouble as well.

Wycliffe’s memory was so disturbing that in 1415 Pope Martin V had his bones exhumed and publicly burned. His ashes were tossed into the River Swift.

Wycliffe plowed the ground. Over one hundred years later, William Tyndale was in position to sow the seed. Tyndale not only recognized, but seized the unique moment in history. We who read the Bible in English today owe him an incalculable debt.

It would be easy to overlook the historically significant period of William Tyndale’s life span. Several years younger than Martin Luther, he came of age during the Reformation. Henry VIII sat on the English throne and Thomas More spent long nights insulting Tyndale in writing. The Renaissance was in its prime and the printing press was the invention literally changing history.

While attending Oxford, Tyndale, like other scholars of the day, learned Latin and Greek. He was also exposed to an instance of divine providence: the Greek New Testament, accessible for the first time in centuries. Though Desiderius Erasmus, the leading humanist scholar of the day, was a lifelong Roman Catholic, his Greek translation did much to pave the way for the Protestant Reformation.

Tyndale’s heart was pierced by reading the New Testament in its original language. The problem was, the common Englishman didn’t speak Greek—or the church’s Latin. Always the dutiful student, Tyndale listened keenly to the lively academic discussions around him. Luther’s writings were winding their way into English ports. The distant cry of sola scriptura (“by scripture alone”) was heard on Anglo soil.

Employed for two years as a tutor at a manor house in Little Sodbury, the specific call of God upon Tyndale’s life began to emerge. His host, Sir John Walsh, frequently invited traveling priests and monks to dine. With Tyndale around, lively conversations ensued.

Arguing his points from Scripture, Tyndale refuted much of the clergy’s superstitious and unbiblical beliefs. Ignorant of the Scriptures and with a reputation (often well-deserved) for immorality, Walsh’s guests found the young tutor intolerable.

But as he preached to the villagers on Sundays and observed their simple, agrarian lifestyles, Tyndale made his resolution. At a crowded dinner party he uttered his now famous words:

“I defy the Pope, and all his laws; and if God spares my life, ere many years, I will cause the boy that driveth the plow to know more of the Scriptures than thou dost!” 

Initially Tyndale believed he would find patronage and be able to pursue work as a translator in London. But this hope quickly evaporated. Neither the church nor the government would tolerate such a step as Luther had made in Germany. If the English were to have their own Bible, Tyndale realized it would not be printed or sold (legally) in England.

So in 1524 he left Henry’s domain to pursue a course that made him a lifelong fugitive. He would spend the next 12 years until his death in hiding. But his labors would result in an English Bible that would profoundly shape the course of modern history.

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Chambers’s crisis of surrender ended in 1901.

Referencing it in a letter to a friend, he wrote, “You ask if I got there all at once, or easily? No, I did not. Pride and the possession of the high esteem of my many Christian friends kept me out for long enough. But immediately I was willing to sacrifice all and put myself on the Altar, which is Jesus Himself, all was begun and done.”

The changes in Chambers were immediately evident. He spent the next five years in Dunoon, developing “into a powerful and much sought after preacher. To his gift of unique and forceful expression he added tact and compassion, qualities evidently lacking in his earlier years.”

His ministry was as unique and multifarious as Chambers himself. The League of Prayer, an interdenominational organization, served as the main vehicle through which Chambers connected with the wider evangelical church. He traveled across the UK preaching and teaching, encouraging believers to pursue biblical holiness.

Chambers was passionately devoted to the worldwide missionary cause. He traveled extensively in America and spent a month in Japan. Whether in the UK or abroad, he viewed the call “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations…” applicable to every Christian.

His various speaking engagements brought Chambers into contact with many missionary candidates as well as missionaries on furlough. Through conversation and observation, he developed a deep concern for the need for missionaries to be adequately prepared for long-term service.  He discerned that “many [missionaries] had returned broken and discouraged simply because they had not been prepared mentally or spiritually to live in a radically different culture.”

“Unless the life of a missionary is hid with Christ in God before he begins his work, that life will become exclusive and narrow. It will never become the servant of all men, it will never wash the feet of others.”

Always concerned that Christians put too little emphasis on the intellect as a gift from God, Chambers lamented the lack of basic study missionaries-to-be invested in the countries and cultures they would enter. In an article entitled “Missionary Ignorance,” he wrote, “To ignore the vast and competent literature relative to every country under Heaven today and to go to work for God, living more or less a hand-to-mouth spiritual life is to be utterly unfitted and unable to rightly divide the word of truth.”

This was in 1907! How much less excuse do missionaries and ministers of today have to remain in ignorance? The information available on the internet and in print is absolutely staggering compared to a century ago.

Chambers was never guilty of discerning a need and merely voicing concern. He took action. From 1911-1915, he and his new wife, Biddy, began the Bible Training College in London. An incredible story of God’s leading and provision, the college’s purpose can be summed up in the following words of Chambers to his students:

“…You have no idea of where God is going to engineer your circumstances, no knowledge of what strain is going to be put on you either at home or abroad, and if you waste your time in overactive energies instead of getting into soak on the great fundamental truths of God’s Redemption, you will snap when the strain comes; but if this time [at the college] of soaking before God is being spent in getting rooted and grounded in God on the unpractical line, you will remain true to Him whatever happens.”

The effects of World War I brought an end to the Bible college. Chambers felt strongly that he needed to do his part in Britain’s war effort. After much seeking of the Lord’s will, he was accepted by the Y.M.C.A as a chaplain in Egypt. This position brought him into contact with thousands of British and Commonwealth soldiers. And as an added touch of God’s grace, Biddy and their young daughter, Kathleen, were allowed to join him.

It was in Egypt after a year and a half of ministry that Chambers came down with appendicitis. His appendix was successfully removed. But complications developed from an infection following the surgery. This surrendered man of God was called to His Savior at 43 years of age.

It would be Biddy who picked up his mantle. For years she had taken shorthand notes from her husband’s teaching, both at the college and from the pulpit. Her subsequent laborious transcriptions and time-consuming arrangements would eventually result in My Utmost For His Highest.

As is often the case with God’s choicest saints, Chambers’s posthumous ministry touched countless more lives than he ever did in his lifetime. Reading Chambers is to plunge into the spiritual depths of one who walked in constant fellowship with the Lord. Such experiences and the ability to effectively convey them are no accidents.

There are no shortcuts or secrets—simply total surrender.

“Have you deliberately committed your will to Jesus Christ? It is a transaction of the will, not of emotion…Do not ask God what the transaction is to be, but make the determination to surrender your will regarding whatever you see, whether it is in the shallow or the deep, profound places internally.”

Biographical information on Oswald Chambers is largely gleaned from David McCasland’s Abandoned to God.    

Despite the intensity of the struggle, Oswald Chambers persevered.

He “renounced his ambitions in art and now cut the cords of his relationship with Chrissie [his girlfriend of many years]. If there was anything else he loved ahead of God, he was ready to place it on the altar as well.”

Chambers desperately sought for more of the power and presence of God. Instead he became more aware of the darkness and sin within. “He could pluck out his offending eye and cut off his right hand, but he could not escape the plague of his own heart.”

Even as he passed through the valley of the shadow of death, the Lord provided a mentor and friend. Duncan MacGregor, the president of Dunoon College where Chambers was a student, understood that the struggle within Oswald was God’s work. MacGregor knew he could do little to directly comfort his beloved student. But his encouragement and example deeply impacted Chambers.

“I never knew him in a controversy in my life,” Chambers reminisced. “He always let the other man have it all his way. I have known him to be defrauded over and over again; but I never knew him to be defrauded without knowing it.” In MacGregor, Chambers saw a man who lived what he preached.

This brings us to the heart of Chamber’s struggle. It is all too tempting to seek God for what He can do for us. But the call to follow is a call to die.

An excerpt from My Utmost for His Highest seems to reference Chamber’s own understanding of what God was doing in his life at this time:

Our motive for surrender should not be for any personal gain at all. We have become so self-centered that we go to God only for something from Him, and not for God Himself. It is like saying, “No. Lord, I don’t want You; I want myself. But I do want You to clean me and fill me with Your Holy Spirit. I want to be on display in Your showcase so I can say, ‘This is what God has done for me.'”

Gaining heaven, being delivered from sin, and being made useful to God are things that should never even be a consideration in real surrender. Genuine total surrender is a personal sovereign preference for Jesus Christ Himself.

Chambers is not saying we shouldn’t desire deliverance from sin or seek to live a life characterized by holiness. He is referring to consecration. God not only wants to save us; His ultimate desire is that we intimately know Him (John 17:3).

After four long years, however, Chambers found the peace and rest that had so long eluded him.

“And like a flash something happened inside me, and I saw that I had been wanting power in my own hand, so to speak, that I might say–look what I have by putting my all on the altar. Glory be to God, the last aching abyss of the human heart is filled to overflowing with the love of God…After He comes in, all you see is ‘Jesus only, Jesus ever.'”

All quotes, except noted, are taken from Abandoned to God by David McCasland

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Oswald Chambers died one hundred years ago. He was only 43.

Despite his age, Chambers writings resonate with the insight of spiritual experience. My Utmost for His Highest is a sample of the deep and costly wisdom this man procured.

Chambers learned and lived total surrender. He allowed God’s refining fires to do their purposeful and holy work.

As a teenager, Chambers was on his way home one evening from hearing Spurgeon preach at the Metropolitan Tabernacle. There in the street he gave himself to the Lord. He was quick to take seriously the Christian walk.

“In a Bible class for young men, Chambers delved into the Scriptures, always focusing on the application of the truth in daily life…He participated in evangelistic meetings in local lodging houses where the very poorest people of London found a temporary home.”

A lover of art, music and literature, it wasn’t long before Chambers was putting pen to paper, expressing his inward spiritual discoveries through poetry. He initially felt called to minister the Gospel through art. This led him to receive an Art Masters Certificate, and then on to the University of Edinburgh where he enrolled in another two-year course.

It was in Edinburgh that Chambers sat under some of the most reputable lecturers of the times, studying philosophy, history and even archaeology. In the late 19th century the art world had yet to descend into some of the absurd and decadent depths that sectors of it have today. Yet it was still largely an environment that represented the world’s priorities and values.

Chambers wrote in a letter during this time, “The kingdom of the aesthetics lies in a groveling quagmire, half fine, half impure; there is a crying need for a fearless preacher of Christ in the midst of that kingdom…that artists, poets and musicians be good and fearless Christians.”

In this educational atmosphere Chambers was immersed in the writings of classic and modern thinkers. Always a keen observer of human nature, this intellectual foundation served him well in later years of ministry.

The following conversation is worth relating in this regard. Skidmore, a friend of Chamber’s, found himself in need of mental invigoration, “emptied by his role of continually giving the truth out to others.”

“What do you read?” Oswald asked.

“Only the Bible and books directly associated with it,” Skidmore told him.

“That’s the trouble,” Chambers replied. “You have allowed part of your brain to stagnate for want of use.”

Within a few minutes, Oswald had scribbled out a list of more than fifty books–philosophical, psychological, and theological, dealing with every phase of current thought…” It is ignorance of these subjects [wrote Chambers] on the part of ministers and workers that has brought our evangelical theology to such a sorry plight.”

During his last year at the university Chambers explored extensively future job prospects. As one door closed after another, he couldn’t escape the haunting notion that maybe God was calling him to be a minister.

After a night of anguished prayer, he felt that the Lord had clearly spoken on the matter. Returning home, Chambers found that his mail included an unsolicited report from a small theological training school near Glasgow. By his second term he was confident that Dunoon College was where God was leading him to attend.

Chambers spent the next four years in focused academic preparation for the ministry. These were the hidden years. This was the season in which he honed his intellect while gaining more experience in practical preaching pursuits.

It was also a long winter of spiritual agony. Outwardly, Chambers was friendly, charming and carefree. But within, the Lord was doing a work that would ultimately bring him to the very end of himself. “Then a journey began with the spark of consecration and ended in the ashes of self-despair.”

Chambers rarely spoke of this time, but in one letter referencing it he wrote, “…for four years, nothing but the overruling grace of God and the kindness of friends kept me out of the asylum. God used me during those years for the conversion of souls, but I had no conscious communion with Him. The Bible was the dullest, most uninteresting book in existence, and the sense of depravity, the vileness and bad-motiveness of my nature was terrific.”

It seems the Lord was wresting from his heart everything that Chambers held dear. He “continued his cheerful outward appearance while one by one his hopes and dreams were being put to death. Some he laid willingly on the altar while others seemed to be snatched from him by the hand of God. In either case, the pain of heartbreak and loss felt the same.”

Chambers was discovering the cost of consecration.

All quotes are taken from David McCasland’s biography, Abandoned to God, which traces the powerful story of Chamber’s spiritual development.     

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I recently read a newish (2008) biography on AW Tozer, A Passion for God. It was a valuable reminder of the influence this man of God has had on my own life.

I was first exposed to Tozer almost two decades ago through reading The Pursuit of God. I’m positive I don’t appreciate the extent of the impact this book had upon my early spiritual development. I do, however, remember that it revealed the heart of a man who had an unquenchable thirst for knowing God.

I eagerly drank at this devotional fountain. I have returned there over the years, rediscovering Tozer’s words as consistently relevant and challenging.

AW Tozer’s life and example remind me that:

Tozer relentlessly pursued the worship of Almighty God. Worship to him was not something limited to certain times and places. Nor was it optional. To Tozer, worship was duty and delight.

Tozer wrote in The Knowledge of the Holy, “With our loss of the sense of majesty has come the further loss of religious awe and consciousness of the divine Presence. We have lost our spirit of worship and ability to withdraw inwardly to meet God in adoring silence.”

Tozer’s time investment before the Lord did draw some criticism. He made clear he was not a “visiting” pastor who would be making social calls or dropping by the hospital. He prioritized spending time in worship, prayer and study. Though this razor-sharp focus made Tozer a powerful preacher of the Word, it also necessitated he have an associate pastor who was willing to perform the pastoral duties he declined.

Tozer emphasized a right (biblical) view of God. For it is worshipers “in spirit and truth” that the Father is seeking.

Those who’ve read Tozer know there is a certain spiritual aroma that permeates his writing. Those who heard him preach consistently testified to a “sacred anointing” or that it was apparent “he had been with Jesus.” I’m convinced this is because of the priority Tozer placed on prayer.

His practice was to spend his mornings praying. When he arrived at his church office, Tozer would change from his suit into a sweater and his “raggedy old prayer pants.” With a Bible and hymnal nearby, he would begin to worship, sitting on the couch. From there Tozer went to his knees, and according to those who caught the occasional glimpse through the door, he would usually end up prostrate on the floor.

His office was holy ground because it was there he regularly met with God.

From these experiences of communion with his Lord, Tozer would rise to prepare his sermons or write the next editorial for The Alliance Witness.

Tozer was a lifelong student–not only of the Bible, but also of literature, history, philosophy and the sciences. Ever frugal (he would often give half of his monthly salary back to the church), he was still a sucker for used book shops.

Tozer didn’t have the advantage of either a college or seminary education. Partly due to his lack of higher education and largely because of his passion for learning, he made study a priority. Tozer encouraged young men entering the ministry to pursue higher education whenever possible. But he understood that no amount of letters after one’s name can make up for a failure to develop disciplined personal study habits.

Agreeing with John Wesley’s declaration that he was “a man of One Book, but the student of many,” Tozer also “exhorted ministers to read widely but sift it all through the lens of the Bible.”

Many consider Tozer a modern-day prophet. He had the God-given ability to see spiritual matters clearly, particularly when it came to the declining state of the evangelical church in America. In particular Tozer bemoaned the rise of entertainment-driven agendas, celebrity pastors and increasing doctrinal compromises.

Though his criticism could be abrasive and even acerbic, there was no doubting that it came from a heart of concern. Tozer genuinely lamented the lack of fear of God among professing Christians. He felt compelled to proclaim the whole counsel of God–not to intentionally wound, but to admonish Christians to experience the beauty of holiness.

A man who spent so much time in prayer and study in order to more effectively minister to his generation was not available to his wife and seven children as he should have been. This neglect is certainly to be lamented. Though his wife, Ada, never complained, it was evident to those who knew her that she keenly felt her husband’s frequent absences.

In his fifties, Tozer confided to a friend, “I’ve had a lonely life.” He had few close human friendships, putting most his time into cultivating his friendship with God. This blind-spot also unfortunately prevented him from experiencing a vibrant marriage and active home life.

Tozer has been criticized for his unapologetic claims to being a “mystic.” Though one may take issue with the connotations and ambiguity of the term, I think Warren Wiersbe’s definition is worthwhile to consider.

“A mystic is simply a person who: 1) sees a real spiritual world beyond the world of sense; 2) seeks to please God rather than the crowd; 3) cultivates a close fellowship with God, sensing His presence everywhere; and 4) relates his experience to the practical things of life.”

As noted, Tozer was a voracious reader and this included studying the early “church fathers” as well as writings from the medieval Roman Catholic tradition. Thoroughly grounded in the Scriptures, Tozer was able to separate the spiritual wheat from the chaff in his wide reading. He applied to his own devotional life that which he felt deepened his fellowship with the Lord.

Perhaps Tozer’s view of evangelical mysticism is best described in his own words: “It is altogether possible to be instructed in the rudiments of the faith and still have no real understanding of the whole thing. And it is possible to go on to become an expert in Bible doctrine and not have spiritual illumination, with the result that a veil remains over the mind, preventing it from apprehending the truth in its spiritual essence.”

The Knowledge of the Holy is Tozer’s exposition of the attributes of God. It’s readable and non-technical language is accessible to to the layman. It’s insight and spiritual applicability reveal the heart and mind of a man who knew God intimately because he worshiped God habitually.

Dorsett’s biography and James Snyder’s In Pursuit of God both offer useful insight into Tozer’s ministry and personal life. Dorsett’s account is especially helpful as it reveals a man who was spiritual but flawed, particularly when it came to relating to his family. In other words, Tozer, like the rest of us, was not perfect, but nevertheless pressed “on toward the goal of the upward call in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:14).

And of course, The Pursuit of God arguably ranks among the best of modern devotional classics. It should be on the shelf of every Christian so that it can be regularly and carefully read.

There’s palpable tension in the air as we approach the presidential elections. It’s not only because the two candidates are polarizing the country in ways not seen in my lifetime. It’s not only because a businessman with no political experience is running against the first female presidential nominee. And, it’s not only because many people feel that neither candidate is a viable option.

Much of what people are sensing is that which is looming under the surface. The election concerns are simply the visibly churning waters above. What exactly does lie beneath?

1. A largely manufactured race war. Yes, there is widespread and severe economic inequality. Yes, there are serious issues that need to be addressed between communities and police departments nationwide. And yes, there is real racism in American society. But none of these are necessarily new phenomena.

What is new is that more Americans are on some form of welfare than ever before. This fuels the fatherless family syndrome, especially in impoverished communities. Poverty and desperate conditions perpetuate the frustration that often gets aimed at police. And, as always happens, every group is blaming some other group (tribe) for its problems. This is further encouraged when rock-throwing rioters are referred to as “peaceful protesters.”

2. The rise of Islamic terrorism in the US. Of course, this follows on the heels of what’s already occurring in Europe. Yes, Islamic terrorism is a legitimate threat. Yes, it is wrong to assume every Muslim is a terrorist. And yes, many Muslims eagerly embrace the American political system and don’t support sharia law.

But the fact is that government policy and mainstream media keep downplaying the notion that a Muslim could possibly be involved when a terror attack occurs. Then, when it emerges that the suspect is indeed a radicalized Muslim, the obvious motives are obscured under the In the meantime, nothing is done to secure the borders or improve the vetting process. And everyone seems shocked when it happens again…and again…and again.

3. The economy is teetering on the brink of collapse. Yes, a few select individuals and a number of corporations are doing very well financially. Yes, there are a handful of factories that actually still produce something. And yes, the dollar is still the world’s reserve currency.

Nevertheless, nearly half of all unemployed Americans have given up looking for work. Tent cities are burgeoning in and around numerous cities. The middle class is shrinking, and food costs have risen exponentially. The national debt has doubled since 2008. An increasing number of Americans are living paycheck to paycheck. And, adding insult to injury, real wages haven’t risen significantly in decades.

Just one of these three factors–racial tension, Islamic terrorism and economic hardship–is enough to destabilize a society when left unaddressed. But when all three exist within a nation, well, you have the perfect powder keg begging for the stray spark.

It’s no wonder people are feeling uneasy. These are uneasy times.

It’s no wonder Americans are clamoring for a new leader, someone who will reverse the course the country is on.

It’s no wonder that people are fearful for the future. There’s a lot of scary stuff going on out there.

Truth be told, I’m not sure that things can be reversed. Sometimes a nation goes so far that there is no turning back, even if a sincere and wise leader happens to be given the reins of power. Philosopher kings, however, are in short supply.

And when the people of Israel persisted in demanding a king to solve their national woes, well…that didn’t turn out so well.

The types of news stories that I observed once a month a few years ago, or once a week in 2015, I now see daily. It would be foolish to ignore what’s going on in our society. It would be unwise to pretend that looming problems will simply go away.

And I would be fearful if it weren’t for the assurances I have as a Christian. Jesus said, “For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on…for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things…So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself.”

Pretty simple, right? God knows we have needs. God knows the future. And, God is in control.

These verses don’t mean that things won’t get really bad. They certainly have in other parts of the world at various times in history. However, God promises to take care of those who trust and obey Him:

“But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

And that is the part of the message that is so often ignored.

The question is not: Are you ready to meet the uncertain future in your own limited strength and finite wisdom? The question is: Are you right with God?

God is steadfast in His love and faithfulness toward His own people. Come what may, the Lord will never leave or forsake those who belong to Him.

Jesus died and rose again so that we might be reconciled to God. This is the best news in these uncertain times. This is the only news that will guarantee an eternally secure future.

So with the elections looming, riots increasing, terrorism on the rise, and economic growth stagnating, I can confidently say, by the grace of God, that I am not afraid. I know Who I am trusting for my future security.

Do you?

Scripture reference: Matthew 6:25-34

All political systems can be reduced to a common denominator. To what extent does the system promote liberty or totalitarianism? Names, labels and ideologies aside, liberty lies at one end of the spectrum and totalitarianism at the other.

Of course, the ideal is liberty. I shouldn’t have to remind anyone of that. But it increasingly appears that people are being coerced into embracing the unideal, promoting the collective “good” at the expense of the individual’s rights.

I’m a Christian. I like liberty. It ensures I possess the freedom to say what I want, worship as I please and be left alone to follow my own conscience.

I don’t like totalitarianism. It instructs me to keep my mouth shut, bow at the altar of political correctness and follow outside directives.

Today different words are used. But they amount to the same thing. Proponents of “globalism” parrot the collectivist mantra; supporters of “nationalism,” the libertarian.

Consider Brexit. David Cameron miscalculated. He didn’t realize the extent of public disgruntlement. A majority of the British were (apparently) tired of unelected EU bureaucrats making laws from them. They suddenly remembered that they were supposed to be living in a democracy. They shook off the lethargy of passive consent and betook themselves to the polls.

In a word, the British took the first step toward reclaiming their sovereignty. The sweet almost forgotten memories of liberty began wafting back.

Consider Trump. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, he represents a nationalistic sentiment gaining momentum in the US. The Founding Fathers said something like, “Let’s take care of our country and secure our future. Let’s build an agricultural and industrial base in America. We might even create some jobs in the process. Let’s be very careful about our foreign entanglements. In fact, let’s just adopt a non-interventionist policy altogether.” Sounds vaguely familiar in relation to some of today’s “nationalistic” political rhetoric.

A man in a white truck kills over 80 people in Nice, France. Though we were told not to make any assumptions, human nature dictated that we did. Now we know. It was a pre-planned, coordinated attack. ISIS claims the driver was one of their own. It was terrorism, no doubt. And all indications point toward Islamic extremism.

Europeans are starting to scratch their heads and ask if perhaps the immigration influx of 2015 wasn’t such a great idea. Maybe these hundreds of thousands of young men pouring across the borders weren’t all really “moderates” fleeing from Syria. Maybe when ISIS claimed that it would use Europe’s immigration policy to smuggle its operatives in, it was telling the truth.

Now the clamor rises for tighter border controls. Makes sense, right? But as unpopular as borders are today, they represent more than just geographical boundaries. They represent national sovereignty. They represent the country and cultures that reside within. They offer protection, both physically and ideologically. They are awfully nationalistic.  

Borders also protect liberty. Globalism insists that everyone conform to the same image. That image is dictated by whatever authoritarians are perched on top.  “No borders” sounds great. Except it doesn’t lead to world-wide peace. It leads to global destabilization.

Obama said in a speech recently that the answer to chronic violence is “institutions that promote the common humanity.”  This is a convoluted way of saying globalism. We don’t celebrate cultural and ethnic diversity by forcing everyone to conform to some international standard. For one, it’s not going to work—at least not peacefully. So the solution to further unrest will be further globalization.

If we all want to experience the collective good we must also all suffer the consequences of collective wrongs. Terrorism suddenly becomes my fault because I question immigration policies and hurt somebody’s feelings.

Totalitarians might call themselves technocrats, corporatists, presidents or prime ministers. Regardless of the word game, cultural distinctions and ethnic diversity stand in their way. National sovereignty is anathema.

There was a time when people scoffed at the whole idea global governance. It might be an idea floated by UN member countries, but what nation would ever willingly give up its sovereignty? Yet we now see it unfolding before our eyes.

First compromise national borders. Then propagate the idea that anyone who has a problem with this is a racist. After the destabilizing effects of mass immigrant influx comes to fruition, offer the “logical” solution: the supposed security and stability of global government.

Geo-politics are indicative of underlying spiritual realities. Globalism is coming. The Bible paints it as an inevitable picture of the future. It will completely crush the rights of the individual, allowing “freedom” only to those who conform to its preordained standards. But while we will still possess relatively free societies, let’s stand up for the liberty they claim to represent, at least in the West.

For me, this means I must continue to write and speak what I believe. I must take advantage of the freedom I possess. There is a day quickly approaching, I have no doubt, when my Christian brothers and sisters will be labeled extremists in an attempt to silence us. I will still write and speak then, but perhaps at much greater consequence.

The encouraging fact in the midst of it all is that God is with His people. Don’t know what this means? Take a few moments to read the best news. You too can be ready…