A Swedish pastor by the name of Olov Hartmann has written a book called Holy Masquerade and with it has set off considerable excitement in Sweden. There are those who bitterly criticize the book, but there are as many who report the reading of it as a liberating experience. The book has a lot to say about the kind of Christianity practiced by some in the environment of the Swedish State Church. But it clearly has a message that reaches beyond the borders of Sweden.

The big question that the book asks is the old one about whether a man practices what he preaches. The material of the book is taken from the parsonage of a preacher who happens to be married to an unbeliever. The unbelieving wife keeps a diary. The diary is the substance of the work. The mistress of this manse turns out to be a shrewd student of her husband’s words and his deeds. In her diary she unmasks her husband as a preacher whose words are empty of accompanying life, whose sermons are full of compromise and are really mere form without content.

She is a careful listener to every sermon. Then she surveys her husband’s life from the perspective of his pretty homilies. She claims to be making an earnest search for identity in his preaching and his life. She fails to find it. So she sets out to show that the Christianity she hears preached is worthless. She wants to know what her husband means when he talks about the “presence of Jesus Christ” in one’s life. And she wants to know what her husband really does believe when he tells her that one must not construe the dogma of the church too literally. Meanwhile she watches her husband being caught up in the details of organizational work and in the subtleties of making a career for himself. She suspects that her husband is not following the demands of his calling, but the dictates of the quest for popularity. His sermons always come off neatly. But they always leave echoes of unreality.

Finally, her observations turn to fury. “To me the whole thing is poison. My whole being revolts against it. But it must be more than revolt. I declare war against this masquerade.” Her diary, thus, becomes an angered charge. The book, which uses the diary as a literary device, is being called a scandal in Sweden.

Author-pastor Hartmann adds two chapters following the diary. The first of these is the report of a judge on a fire which destroyed the church pastored by the fictional preacher, a fire in which the authoress of the diary is fatally burned as she tries to salvage a statue of Christ from the building. The other chapter is the preacher’s own reaction to his wife’s diary, which he discovers after her death. It is his self-justification, a mealy-mouthed attempt to diagnose his wife’s troubles as “confusion of the spirit,” an ailment about which he says he has read a good deal of literature. The preacher’s feeble effort to justify himself only serves to underscore the validity of his wife’s accusation.

The book, written by a man who is himself a Swedish pastor, has understandably aroused much emotional reaction. The intent of the work is clear enough. It warns against nominal Christianity and unveils its demonic character. It is true that the diary mocks at many of the church’s cherished doctrines. This alone is setting off much of the adverse reaction to the book. But it is just as true that the diary succeeds in demonstrating how Christianity itself can become something close to blasphemy. Many readers find the volume a necessary warning against unreality and hypocrisy, against the terrible dualism that can exist between word and deed, doctrine and life.

The author does not mean to stand behind all that the chronicle contains. The preacher’s wife is anyone who as an unbeliever is trying to understand Christianity and to find out whether it is really meant to be taken seriously. The book is really not profane. It raises a profound question, that of the reality of the Christian life. This is a question which always confronts the church. It is the question which faces every believer: does my life become an occasion for the blasphemy of God’s name because of the contradiction between what I say and how I live? Not he who says Lord, Lord, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven.

The sharp pointedness of the treatise hurts most because it is written as the observation of a person who lives with a nominal Christian. Such close-hand study is often more accurate than the kind written from a distance. The book, in spite of the objections one may level against details, is a gripping witness to a desperate groping for reality and integrity, for genuine Christian living. That it is concerned with a preacher only gives the theme a sharper accent. It is precisely those who face the world with the name of the Lord on their lips who are most closely scrutinized as to whether their lives establish what they teach. There is nothing worse than the career of an evangelist played off against a background of inconsistent living.

The Word of God has much to say about the dangers of the impressive word. Nowhere does the Gospel warn more urgently than it does against Pharisaism. Pharisees were people who had much religion, who were steeped in the law. We read that they thought they were serving God. But the essential thing, love, was lacking. Their lack of love was demonstrated in the kind of lives they lived. Christ’s “Woe unto you” that rang out against the Pharisees still forms a call of the Lord to integrity of life. The call sounds to us, lest we cause men to reject the Gospel because of what they see in our lives. The preacher is not called to proclaim anything about his own holy life. But as he preaches the Gospel the holiness of his life must be transparent in his preaching. In the Church of Jesus Christ something of what Zechariah wrote must become actual. “In those days it shall come to pass, that ten men shall take hold out of all languages of the nations, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying: We will go with you; for we have heard that God is with you” (Zechariah 8:23).

The danger of word-deed is felt as keenly by Paul as by anyone in the Bible. He writes, “Thou therefore which teachest another, teachest thou not thyself?” (Romans 2:21). Serving the Gospel of Christ in the world is really a noble and holy office. But the Lord calls the whole man into his service, not merely the mouth. His witnesses must be free of the dualism that forms occasion for blasphemy. This is doubtless the intent of the Swedish pastor’s book. It is a summons to sober reflection wherever preachers stand up to testify that the darkness is passing away and that the true light is already shining. “… because the darkness is past, and the true light now shineth” (1 John 2:8).

Inadequate Solution

Resurrection and Historical Reason, by Richard R. Niebuhr (Scribner’s, New York, 1957, 184 pp., $3.95), is reviewed by R. Allan Killen, author of The Ontological Theology of Paul Tillich.

In its opening chapters this book promises to be one of the most daring attempts to give the resurrection of Jesus Christ a true place in history, but before it closes it proves to be the greatest of disappointments.

Niebuhr begins by pleading for the re-establishment of the Resurrection as a true historical fact. He quite ably shows how there has been a tendency on the part of many theologians, including Karl Barth, to place the Resurrection in some category that transcends real history. Barth puts it, for example, in supra-history. This manner of dealing with the Resurrection Niebuhr traces to the influence of Immanuel Kant. Kant maintained that we cannot know metaphysical or revelational truth by means of theoretical reason—that is by means of the realm of everyday knowledge. He found a place for it however in his “practical reason.” Niebuhr sees the theologians of the nineteenth century and the neo-orthodox of today as actually, in one manner or another, falling back upon Kant’s concept of practical reason in their explanations of the Resurrection. Niebuhr’s solution is that there needs to be added to Kant’s three roads to knowledge—namely theoretical reason, pure reason (which incidentally Niebuhr considers of no real value), and practical reason—a fourth, namely historical reason.

Up to this point the book contains much of real value insofar as it presents an interesting and worthwhile analysis of Ritschl, Schweitzer, Barth, and others. It is as Niebuhr starts to describe his “historical reason” that the total inadequacy of his solution begins to become apparent.

He commences by establishing the fact that besides scientific knowledge there exists historical truth. The marks of historical truth are individuality, transcendence and memory. To what kind of knowledge will “historical reason” lead us on the basis of such a definition of historical truth? Niebuhr’s explanation of the Resurrection is the answer.

In the resurrection of Jesus Christ we do not have, Niebuhr maintains, any proof of a bodily resurrection. The references to the “empty tomb” are “a relatively late tradition” (p. 172), and the so-called corporeal emphasis comes only in the third and fourth Gospels. The references, in the Resurrection appearances, to Jesus eating and drinking and to the marks of his crucifixion are not to be connected with the idea of a bodily resurrection, but are merely elements of identification and recognition. As Jesus appeared to the disciples they remembered that he had eaten and drunken with them. Now identity and recognition, Niebuhr argues, are the marks of a true historical event. He writes: “If the preceding argument is sound—that the narratives are encounters centered in recognition and identification—then we can affirm that the Resurrection appearances shared in the same kind of independence as all historical events. The past—shared by Jesus and his disciples and held in the memory of the latter—and the present in which the disciples believed themselves to be alone were abruptly fused through the appearance of Jesus before them. His presence induced recognition in the place of pure memory (p. 174).

If Niebuhr is saying that the disciples actually saw the Lord in some mystical sense remembering how they had eaten and drunken with him, and that even though there was no such historical experience as their eating and drinking with him again after he arose from the grave, nevertheless they said they had done so, then any historian today would simply say that the Gospel writers lied. Niebuhr explains it as something else!

This proposed fourth kind of Kantian reason, “historical reason,” ends in a confusion of thought and memory with event. Events can occur without our confusing them with memory, and memory is not an indispensible element in true historical event. True historical narrative does not confuse event and memory as it would seem according to Niebuhr the Gospel writers have done. It is hard to see that he has advanced in any real sense beyond Schweitzer’s psychological explanation of the Resurrection or even that he has developed anything essentially different. This is not a return to the orthodox biblical view.

R. ALLAN KILLEN

Crime And Punishment

The Urge to Punish, by Henry Weihofen (Farrar, Straus & Cudahy, 1956, 220 pp., $4) is reviewed by John K. Mickelsen, Minister of Canoga Presbyterian Church of Seneca Falls, New York.

The author of this work, professor of law at the University of New Mexico, discusses the problem of the effect of mental disorder on a criminal’s responsibility for his unlawful acts. Evangelicals must study this complex problem if they are to understand and react to one of the current trends in the treatment of criminals. Certainty, every Christian who acts as a juror and hears an insanity plea on behalf of the defendant must have an informed opinion on which to base his verdict.

The generally used test for criminal irresponsibility, the M’Naghten rule, asks if the accused knew what he was doing or if he knew that he was doing wrong. Prof. Weihofen considers that rule to be in error because it concentrates on the ability to know to the exclusion of volition and emotion and the role of the unconscious in human mental activity. However, the M’Naghten rule seems to be in accord with the Bible’s emphasis on knowledge as the basis of responsibility (Luke 12:47 f.; Rom. 1:19 f.).

Prof. Weihofen states that the M’Naghten rule is becoming obsolete in our courts, and will be replaced by either the product rule or the appropriate section of the Model Penal Code drafted by the American Law Institute. The product rule says, “An accused is not criminally responsible if his unlawful act was the product of mental disease or mental defect” (p. 7). The 1955 tentative draft of the Model Code affirms, “A person is not responsible for criminal conduct if at the time of such conduct as a result of mental disease or defect he lacks substantial capacity either to appreciate the criminality of his conduct or to conform his conduct to the requirements of law” (p. 62).

The concluding chapter, which gives the book its title, presents the case for the abolition of the death penalty. This is not unrelated to the subject of the book because “the insanity defense is almost never raised except in murder cases” (p. 146). Eight objections to capital punishment are given (pp. 152–166). Though some of the objections are worthy of note, the argument here is weak, for all eight objections are appeals to effects and consequences rather than to principles; in effect, this is an appeal to expediency. There is no recognition of the primary purpose of punishment, the vindication of God’s righteousness and justice (Rom. 13:1–4). Nor is there any awareness that, because murder is the destruction of God’s image in man, the one who murders deliberately must be executed (Gen. 9:6; Num. 35:6–32).

The other five chapters may be criticized on the ground that they also ignore the teachings of the Bible. This shows up in three ways. The psychology on which this work is based denies the existence of the soul (note 8, pp. 176 f.). Wrongdoing is defined by human law rather than by divine law; this the author accepts without protest (pp. 64 f.). And the presence of design and purpose in the universe is denied (p. 55), which is but another way of denying the providence of God.

Before evangelicals come to a common solution for the problem of mental irresponsibility they must come to agree on two things. They must agree on the effect of the freedom of the will on human responsibility; and here Jonathan Edwards’ The Freedom of the Will cannot be ignored. Secondly, evangelicals must arrive at substantial unanimity concerning the effect of mental disorder on the freedom of the will. If evangelicalism is to make an impact on this area of social responsibility our theologians and scientists must give both facets of this problem their attention. And if we are to make that impact in time to influence the present trend, our treatment of these facets must begin immediately.

JOHN K. MICKELSEN

Christian Soldier

Way to Glory: the Life of Havelock of Lucknow, by J. C. Pollock (Murray, London, 1957, 270 pp., 25s), is reviewed by Philip E. Hughes, lecturer of Mortlake Parish, London, England.

The name of Havelock of Lucknow is a name that means little to the present generation—so quickly is the fame of the heroes and great men of the past obscured. It is over 100 years since General Sir Henry Havelock died at Lucknow, November 24, 1857, and was mourned and acclaimed on all sides as a Christian soldier of dauntless courage and outstanding genius. The Daily Telegraph recorded that “For two days, in every circle from the palace to the cottage there was a national lamentation.” Luneral eulogies were uttered in churches and chapels throughout the land, including Westminster Abbey. Across the Atlantic, flags were flown at half-mast in New York and Boston, “a tribute of respect which,” according to the New York Times, “even the Duke of Wellington did not command and which we believe was never before paid to a foreigner.” The Duke of Cambridge, indeed, considered Havelock to be “equal and in some respects superior to Wellington.” However that may be, Havelock, by consistent integrity of character and perseverance during years of disappointment, and by the crowning blaze of his brilliant leadership at the height of the Indian Mutiny, achieved the ambition which he had expressed in the words, “to be surpassed by none in zeal and determination in the path of my duty because I was resolved to put down the vile calumny that a Christian could not be a meritorious soldier.”

But if the consummating event of his life was the victory at Lucknow, the crucial and most important event, and the key to his character, was his own conquest by the gospel of Jesus Christ on board ship when sailing out to India as a newly commissioned officer, aged 28. From then on he remained a faithful and fearless soldier of the King of kings. Eager to win others for Christ, he was not ashamed to organize informal services for the purpose of bringing the Gospel to such as would attend, despite the strong disapproval of his fellow officers. Appalled also at the dreadful hold which strong drink had over the soldiery and at the vicious excesses which were the consequence of drunkenness, he inaugurated a regimental temperance association and opened a coffee room, the prototype of the canteen clubs which are now taken for granted in service life.

As a military leader he was absolutely intrepid, and a remarkable strategist. Wherever, the firing was fiercest and the dangers greatest he was to be found on horseback setting an example of unsurpassed valor to his men. Though apparently altogether careless of his own personal safety and survival, and though his mount was shot from under him on half-a-dozen occasions, he came through all his engagements unscathed, so that his men came to regard his person as invulnerable and his leadership invincible. Even when the end came, it was acute dysentery and not the iron or steel of the enemy that carried him off.

Mr. Pollock has performed his biographical task most competently, realistically and sympathetically. He has made excellent use of his material.

PHILIP EDGCUMBE HUGHES

Among the extant epistles of Paul there is none more genial in its attitude and more revealing of the author than the epistle to the Philippians. Like an excerpt from an intimate diary, this short letter, occupying about three pages in the average copy of the Bible, speaks of the fulness of Paul’s Christian experience and contains some of his ripest teaching. Although it is not primarily theological in character, it deals with an aspect of the Incarnation that has kept theologians arguing about it for years. Probably Paul would be quite dismayed if he knew how much controversy his seemingly incidental reference to the selfemptying of Christ had aroused.

History And Authorship

From the earliest times that the epistles of Paul were quoted, Philippians has been known to the Church. There are allusions to it in the writings of Ignatius and Polycarp, early in the second century, and the later writers of that century, Clement of Alexandria, Irenaeus, and Tertullian, all mention it. The authorship of Philippians has never been seriously questioned, for it bears the unmistakable imprint of Pauline thought and experience.

Date And Origin

The exact date of Philippians is uncertain, but it was probably written toward the close of Paul’s imprisonment in Rome. Some commentators like G. S. Duncan have argued for an Ephesian imprisonment about the time of the third journey, around 55 or 56. If Paul were imprisoned in Ephesus during or at the end of his three-year ministry there, neither his own writings nor the tradition of the Fathers has preserved any certain evidence of it. Internal evidence indicates that he wrote it when the issue of his case was still unsettled (Phil. 1:22, 23; 2:7). He was certainly confined to prison (1:7), and had probably just had his first hearing, so that his case had come to the attention of the palace officials (1:13). His enemies had taken advantage of his detention to promote their own cause, preaching Christ insincerely (1:16), while his friends had boldly come to his defense. Paul himself did not know what to expect. Death was quite possible, and he was ready for it (1:23), but he felt reasonably sure that he might be acquitted, and that he would be able to return to Philippi (1:25 f.).

The letter was written as a note of thanks to the church for having sent him support both in his past ministry in Macedonia (4:15,16), and during the imprisonment (4:14). Epaphroditus had brought their message (4:18), and had been taken ill at Rome (2:25–27). Paul had sent him back with this note after the delay of his illness, with the recommendation that they receive him well. He expected to send Timothy a little later, as soon as the outcome of his imprisonment should be decided (2:19–23).

Background

The church at Philippi was the first founded by Paul in his Macedonian campaign on the second journey, about the year 51. Upon receiving the call to Macedonia (Acts 16:9, 10) he and his party, including Luke, sailed westward from Troas to Asia Minor, and landed at Neapolis, the present port of Kavalla. From there they proceeded to Philippi, the largest city in that immediate region, and a colony of Roma. As a colony, it was under Roman law, and was regarded as an extension of Rome itself. It was largely populated by retired Roman legionaries, and the inhabitants prided themselves on their Roman citizenship. There were very few Jews in the city, not enough to build a synagogue.

Paul began his ministry in a prayer-meeting of Jews and Jewish proselytes held by the river bank. There he met Lydia, a wealthy shopkeeper, who became interested in his message. She entertained Paul and his party in her home, and became one of his first converts. Paul’s cure of a demon-possessed slave girl aroused the enmity of the owners, who could no longer use her profitably for fortune telling. They aroused public antagonism against Paul and Silas on the charge that they were Jews, whose message was subversive of Roman loyalties. They were seized, beaten, and thrown into prison without legal action, but were freed by the intervention of God through an earthquake at midnight. The jailor was converted. The next morning the magistrates of the city, upon learning that they were Romans, came down to the jail to release them. This public apology removed the stigma of the arrest, and the party was allowed to leave the city in peace (Acts 16:13–40).

According to the account of Acts, Luke seems to have remained behind as the pastor of the church and as a general evangelist in Macedonia and Achaia, for at this point in his narrative the pronoun shifts from the first person (“we”) to the third (“they”). He rejoined Paul when he returned to Philippi (Acts 20:6) about three years later. In the meantime his ministry at Philippi may have had a powerful influence on the church in promoting its loyalty to Paul, when, as Paul says in this very epistle, he was beset by enemies within the church who were seeking to undo his work.

Structure And Content

Because of his imprisonment which had curtailed his evangelistic and pastoral activities, Paul was deeply concerned with the progress of the gospel in the Roman world. There were other preachers, of course; but he felt responsible for maintaining the integrity of the churches which he had founded and for carrying the message to the farthest bounds possible. Spain was in his mind when he wrote Romans (Rom. 15:28) just before his arrest at Jerusalem. Now, three or four years later, he is still seeking “to reach forth unto those things which are before” (Phil. 3:13).

The theme of “the gospel” runs through Philippians like a current in the ocean. His relation with the church is “the fellowship in the gospel” (1:15). His preaching is “the confirmation of the gospel” (1:7). His career is “the progress of the gospel” (1:12). His conflicts are “the defense of the gospel” (1:17). Ethical conduct is determined by the standards of the gospel (1:27), and the body of truth that Christians hold is “the faith of the gospel” (1:27). The labors in which Paul and his associates are engaged are “the service of the gospel” (2:22), and he speaks of the women of Philippi “who laboured with me in the gospel” (4:3) … In fact, so closely was his entire career bound up with this subject that he called the beginning of his campaign in Macedonia and Achaia “the beginning of the gospel” (4:15). Paul used the term in several senses. It denoted his message about Christ, the content of Christian faith, the sphere of Christian service, and the purpose of his whole career.

Philippians may be divided into several fairly well-marked sections, though its composition is much less formal than many other of Paul’s epistles. Nevertheless, there is a discernible outline in this epistle.

I. Salutation to the Philippians 1:1, 2

II. Paul’s Relationship to the Church 1:3–11

III. Paul’s Plan for the Church 1:12–2:30

A. Personal Prospects 1:12–26

B. Personal Requests 1:27–2:30

1. A Plea for Unity 1:27–30

2. A Plea for Humility 2:1–11

3. A Plea for Witnessing 2:12–18

C. Arrangements for Messengers 2:19–30

IV. Paul’s Warning Against Legalism 3:1–21

A. Personal Experience 3:1–16

B. Personal Plea for Loyalty 3:17–21

V. The Final Word 4:1–23

A. Concluding Injunctions 4:1–9

B. Thanksgiving for Favors 4:10–20

C. Salutation 4:21–23

Philippians is not so thoroughly logical an epistle as Romans or Galatians because it is written for a different purpose. It is non-controversial, and is much more like a conversation than like a debate or a lecture. Paul opens it by chatting informally about his imprisonment. He is grateful for the work that God has begun among the Philippians, and is confident that He will continue to carry it to completion. Paul wants them to know that his imprisonment has not blocked the progress of the gospel. On the contrary, it is becoming known in official circles, and many have begun to proclaim Christ publicly, whether out of sympathy for him, or whether as rival preachers. He is quite encouraged by the prospects, and wants the Philippians to know that his chief concern is the honor of Christ.

There is no outstanding heresy or abuse in the Philippian church that calls for correction, but Paul wants his readers to maintain their courage, and not to be frightened from their calling in the gospel by the fact of his imprisonment. Since Philippi was a colony of Rome, any action of Roman courts would be immediately effective there. Perhaps some of the people were wondering whether the church would be declared illegal if Paul were condemned. He urged them to conduct themselves as good citizens (1:27—Greek: politeuesthe) of the gospel.

The passage in chapter 2 is worth more than passing comment. Paul used the picture of the humiliation of Christ as a pattern for the Philippians. The modern church has made it a crux interpretum of doctrine. We should note that Paul was not arguing the case for the Incarnation; he was assuming it. He was not seeking to explain it metaphysically; he was using it as an illustration. The very fact that he does so indicates his acceptance of the pre-existence of Christ and his high view of Jesus’ person. Christ, existing in that form which expressed the reality of his Godhead, voluntarily laid it aside for a different form which expressed the status of a bondslave, and in the outward appearance of a man he endured the death of the cross for us. Paul does not mean that Jesus was only a phantom, but he wishes to convey the idea that in the garb of human flesh Deity was resident. The Incarnation did not strip Jesus of his rights, but he laid aside certain of his powers in order that he might live the life of man. By so doing Deity was not degraded, though he suffered humiliation; rather, humanity was exalted as he became the Lord of heaven and earth. The point of the illustration is that if Deity could voluntarily accept humiliation to make the gospel possible, we should have the same attitude for the sake of making the gospel known. “The Word became flesh” (John 1:14), and we, in turn, “hold forth the word of life” (Phil. 2:16).

A second important message in Philippians is the first part of the third chapter, where Paul describes Christian experience in autobiographical terms. He tells how he, a thorough Jew, steeped in the law and filled with zeal for it, found in Christ a gain greater than the loss of his prestige and influence in Judaism, and a motivation far stronger than that of the law. Christ became his righteousness, and in the power of His resurrection and in the fellowship of His sufferings he found a new and more abundant life.

The Philippian church seems to have been threatened by a legalistic type of Christianity somewhat akin to that which had disrupted the Galatian church about a decade before. There are not lacking hints that Paul’s antagonists had not been completely silenced in the Galatian controversy, but that they had pursued him throughout his missionary career. In the second epistle to Corinth he complains about those who have attacked both his preaching and his person (2 Cor. 11:3–6, 13, 22, 23; 10:10). They had reappeared at Rome (Phil. 1:15, 16). The Philippian church had not been led astray completely as had the Galatians, but he was aware of the danger which might overtake them, and he was seeking to avert it.

In order to make clear the nature of the gospel he cited his own experience. He had been brought up in strictest conformity to legal righteousness. He could trace his ancestry back to Israel, the “prince with God” who had been changed by God’s power. He came from Benjamin, the smallest but one of the most vigorous of the twelve tribes, and he was named for Saul, the Benjamite king of Israel. Although he had lived in a Greek city, he was a strict Hebrew, maintaining the language and customs of his people. He had been circumcised on the eighth day as an infant, so that he was no proselyte. He had adhered rigidly to the observance of the law. His zeal had been manifested in his persecution of the church, and his career before the public eye was blameless.

Surely so respectable a citizen and so upright a religionist would be quite well satisfied with his attainments. He found that there was something lacking which could be satisfied only in Christ. Christ became his righteousness, so that he stood before God clothed with a holiness not his own (3:9). Christ became his life, so that in power and in suffering he drew upon Christ’s resources (3:10). Christ became his goal; for as the runner speeds his way toward the tape and the judge’s stand where the prize will be awarded, Paul pursued his quest of following Christ (3:13, 14).

His closing exhortations enforce this same principle. He urges the Philippians to follow him, and to avoid those “who are enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things” (3:18, 19). In his conclusion in this section of teaching he incorporates another illusion to the local social background. The passage beginning, “For our conversation is in heaven …” should be translated, “For our citizenship is in heaven …” (3:20). Just as the Philippians were politically citizens of Rome, though living in Philippi, so we are a colony of heaven. Our citizenship is there, even though we may be living in the world as “registered aliens.” Our conduct should be measured by the standards of our native land and not by the customs of the place of sojourn.

The last chapter of Philippians contains chiefly exhortations to unity, to trustfulness, and to prayer. Its great promise, “My God shall supply all your need …” (4:19) is linked with Paul’s personal thanks for all the gifts that the church has sent him. As they have supplied him, so God will supply them. As Paul closes this epistle, he succeeds in communicating his triumphant spirit to his friends, for he assured them that through his ministry there are saints even “in Caesar’s household” (4:22). In spite of his imprisonments he has carried the gospel forward, and has been able to bear an effective testimony to the imperial court in Rome.

Tools For Study

Old, but still one of the best commentaries on Philippians is J. B. Lightfoot’s St. Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians. The volume in the International Critical Commentary by Vincent will provide ample discussion of the problems of introduction and of the Greek text. For a rare combination of scholarship and spiritual insight, try H. G. C. Moule’s Philippian Studies. The new one-volume commentary by Davidson, Stibbs, and Kevan has a clear, brief treatment of the epistle, with an unusually good introduction. A. T. Robertson’s book, Paul’s Joy in Christ, has some helpful homiletical suggestions. The development of the theme of the gospel may be found in Tenney’s Philippians: The Gospel at Work.

MERRILL C. TENNEY

Dean of the Graduate School

Wheaton College (Illinois)

Recent developments in astronautics are affecting many areas of human thought and action. The Christian may well ask how it affects his faith.

Consider the attention now focused on a shot to the moon. Is there a moral, even a spiritual side, from which this concentration of interest may be viewed? What may be said to be the religious and ethical implications of a successful shot to the moon (or even an unsuccessful attempt)? What does it indicate about man as created? As fallen? Where may it lead us? Away from God? Nearer to God?

For a religious assessment of lunar exploration, Christianity Today put these questions to Protestantism’s foremost theologians and philosophers. Most of the 25 distinguished leaders quoted herewith are evangelicals, but not all.

KARL BARTH, professor, University of Basel: “What about the prospect of a shot to the moon? See Psalms 139:7–10. (‘Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there: If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me’ [AV]). For the rest: take it easy!”

ANDREW W. BLACKWOOD, professor emeritus, Princeton Theological Seminary: “The shot to the moon calls attention to Psalm 8, which sings about man’s insignificance compared with the moon, and his majesty as ‘little less than God’ [RSV]. Once I preached about the hydrogen bomb. Now I think a minister should preach from the Bible, as an expert, and not preach science, as an amateur.”

F. F. BRUCE, professor, The University, Sheffield: “ ‘The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein’ (Ps. 111:2, AV). The more that men discover about the universe of God, the more cause they have for admiring his wisdom and power. National prestige and the like, however, are unworthy motives for exploring creation, as compared with doing it to the glory of the Creator.”

EMIL BRUNNER, professor, University of Zurich: “A shot to the moon has significance only as the latest achievement of science. The improportionate interest in it shows mankind confusing means and ends and overrating the importance of technological achievement. While science manifests men’s God-given dominance over nature, the course of its development shows its incapability of integrating it into the oneness of human life according to its divine destiny.”

GORDON H. CLARK, professor, Butler University: “The attempt to shoot the moon has no more religious significance than any other great scientific advance. To suppose so is on a level with interpreting the Apocalypse by the morning newspaper. God’s first command to Adam contained the injunction to subdue nature. Shooting the moon, therefore, is a divinely appointed task. Unfortunately, however, the ungodly are generally reputed to have obeyed this commandment more successfully than devout Christians have.”

OSCAR CULLMANN, professor at the Sorbonne: “The scientific attempt, as such, a legitimate means of exploration, will neither remove us from nor will it draw us nearer to God. But it will remind the Christian of the cosmic reach of his faith: the work of Christ, mediator of all creation, concerns the entire universe. That faith will inspire the solution of the ethical problems.”

FRANK E. GAEBELEIN, headmaster, The Stony Brook School: “Exploration of space should lead man closer to the only true God, who created not only this planet but also the whole universe. But it cannot do this unless man remains humble before the living God. If man, who brought ruin to the earth through the rebellion of sin, makes such achievements as lunar exploration and space travel an occasion for self-exaltation, he will inevitably be subject to God’s greater judgment upon his pride. The redeeming work of Christ has infinite and universal implications. Because it reveals the very heart of God, it stands above the material universe. God’s love for man through Christ, who upholds all things by the word of his power, is eternal and therefore beyond revision through any kind of scientific advance.”

JOHN H. GERSTNER, professor, Pittsburgh-Xenia Theological Seminary: “I cannot become excited theologically about a landing on the moon, but I am quite interested in it as a possible relief for the earth’s population, weather observatory, missile base, and so forth. It seems to me that its exploration draws us neither closer nor further from God and has no implication for the state of man’s depravity, except that it illustrates once again that fallen men can be very able scientists. I see nothing more sinister in the discovery of the moon than in the discovery of America.”

CARL F. H. HENRY, professor (on leave), Fuller Theological Seminary, and editor of this magazine: “Fallen man vaunts his genius and power to disguise his moral nakedness and spiritual bankruptcy. He shoots to the moon much in the spirit of proud Lucifer exalting himself against God. In fact, in the Bible, Satan is prince of the power of the air. To bend the universe to God’s purpose is man’s divinely-given task. As sinner he exploits the universe instead; he reaches for infinity to vaunt his own glory.”

W. BOYD HUNT, professor, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary: “Man is not to fear science (Matt. 10:28). Rather, science under God, is man’s (Gen. 1:26–28), to use or to abuse. Something would be wrong with Christians if professing atheists were to permanently out-think and out-invent them. If man can get to the moon, reverent faith says that time is wasting. And it also says, let the glory be God’s, who made man, and who made him hungry to know truth, and who made truth so vast and all-challenging.”

DIRK JELLEMA, professor, Case Institute of Technology: “The success or failure of current moon shots has no religious implication. Man’s coming conquest of space (and note that God made him to ‘have dominion’—Ps. 8:6 [AV]) will have no effect on his basic problems, his religious problems, which are unaffected by his space-time location. Man may someday rule the galaxy; if so, he will still need a Saviour.”

W. HARRY JELLEMA, professor, Calvin College: “Always the problem for the Christian moralist has been to lead men in the path of wisdom; and wisdom for man is to know and to use himself and his world so as to grow in knowledge and love of God in Christ. For Christian ethics and theology, therefore, I see no more of a problem in current researches in outer space than was occasioned by invention and use of the telescope. No more of a problem; essentially no new problem; very much the same problem as always.”

CLYDE S. KILBY, professor, Wheaton College: “Christians can rest in the perfect assurance that planetary or even interstellar exploration will make no essential difference in the rationale of their position. Since the Creator is of necessity larger than his creation, and since he sovereignly occupies all space and all time, Christians should joyfully encourage every honest investigation of the universe. They should be of all people the least provincial.”

HAROLD B. KUHN, professor, Asbury Theological Seminary: “The results of space explorations may be largely in one of two directions. They may lead men again to ponder the words of the Psalmist, ‘When I consider … the moon and the stars, which thou has ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him?’ (Ps. 8:3–4, AV). In other words, today’s explorations could point the way to a new recognition of both the majesty and the condescension of God. Or, such achievements could serve to bolster man’s pride in his own wisdom and ability, and to revive Swinburne’s superficial, ‘Glory to man in the highest!’ ”

C. S. LEWIS, professor, Cambridge University: “I … fear the practical, not the theoretical, problems which will arise if ever we meet rational creatures which are not human. Against them we shall, if we can, commit all the crimes we have already committed against creatures certainly human but differing from us in features and pigmentation; and the starry heavens will become an object to which good men can look up only with feelings of intolerable guilt, agonized pity and burning shame.”

J. THEODORE MUELLER, professor, Concordia Seminary: “So far as our modern helpful and terrifying inventions are concerned, the Christian believer views them all as made by God’s gracious permission and according to his direction, ‘replenish the earth, and subdue it’ (Gen. 1:28, AV), in order ultimately to serve his glory, the spread of his gospel to bring in the elect, and the proclamation of his second coming as our Lord foretold this (Matt. 24). To the unrighteous, who glory in their pride, they are tokens of divine wrath, but to the believers in Christ they are both a comfort and an admonition to trust in the divine Word and to submit themselves absolutely to their loving father in heaven, who makes all things work together for good to those who in Christ Jesus love and serve him.”

REINHOLD NIEBUHR, professor, Union Theological Seminary: “I am baffled by the concern about the theological significance of a shot to the moon, particularly when we are living in the nuclear age and the conscience of the whole world is troubled about another aspect of modern technical achievements, namely, the destructive possibility of nuclear weapons.”

(Readers will recall the editorial “Christ and the Atom Bomb” [Sept. 2, 1957 issue]. The current issue [page six] carries a relevant article by Dr. William G. Pollard of Oak Ridge Institute of Nuclear Studies.—ED.)

HAROLD JOHN OCKENGA, president of the board of directors, Fuller Theological Seminary: “Nothing in Scripture precludes the possibility of interplanetary space travel. Let us evangelicals not be provincial. But should fallen man succeed in projecting himself to the moon or to any other planet, he will inject his sin, his hate, his violence, into the new sphere. This only intensifies the Gospel task and Christian responsibility. Space travel may well be a fulfillment of Acts 2:19 and Luke 21:25, which prophesy recognizable signs in the sun, moon and stars before the second coming of the Lord. For the first time in history, these may be fulfilled.”

BERNARD RAMM, professor, Baylor University: “Man is man wherever he is. The meaning of his life is know only through revelation; and the conditions of life with reference to God remain unchanged wherever man is. Extensions through time do not change man’s God-created nature, nor do extensions in space change any of the conditions under which he lives before God. The Spirit of God can just as aptly regenerate somebody on the moon as he can in the submarine. Man’s dominion concerns the totality of created reality so I do not feel that he must of necessity be earth-bound. Therefore, any trip to the moon changes nothing in the Christian scheme of things for that scheme of things pertains to man wherever and whenever he is.”

W. STANFORD REID, professor, McGill University: “I do not feel that a landing on the moon constitutes, as some seem to think, a violation of the divine order. On the other hand, there is no doubt that if man does succeed, he will take with him his sinful heart so that he will attempt to use any success in this venture for his own selfish purposes, unless restrained by the grace of God.”

WILLIAM CHILDS ROBINSON, professor, Columbia Theological Seminary: “ ‘Seventy-seven Seconds—Multi-million Dollar Failure.’ That is the record of the first U. S. effort to fire a rocket to the moon. This multi-million dollar experiment is, of course, paid for by increasing the debt limit and cheapening the dollar. That is, everyone in the country paid for the expensive failure. At about the same time two submarines cross from the Pacific to the Atlantic under the polar ice-cap. God gave the earth to man, but He did not give man dominion over the moon. Why not use the marvelous skills of science for this world and leave the sun and the moon and the stars to the fingers of the Almighty?”

NED B. STONEHOUSE, professor, Westminster Theological Seminary: “Is man, in trying a shot to the moon, forgetting his destined sphere and perhaps arrogantly and irreverently stepping out of bounds? No, at least not necessarily so. For man, though a creature of the earth, has by reason of being a creature of God a far wider horizon. Such an increase of knowledge as travel into outer space may afford, like other advances of human learning, leads to conceit when men suppose that by searching they can find out God or that they have no need of him. Such self-exaltation is, however, not inherent in man’s increase of knowledge of and power over the forces of nature. On the contrary, one may advance in humility and readiness to serve God as one stands more and more amazed at what the heavens are telling us of the glory and power of God and the scope of his rule and saving purposes.”

PAUL TILLICH, professor, Harvard University: “There is no direct religious significance in the penetration of man into outer space—including the moon and planets. The divine ground of everything is equally near to and equally removed from the grain of sand as from the farthest galaxies. And the divine self-manifestation in human history is valid for all phases of man’s history, past and future. But there are indirect religious effects of these developments comparable to those which occurred with the victory of Copemican astronomy. They can immensely increase man’s awareness of himself as free, namely free from bondage to any encountered situation, including bondage to the power-field of the earth. But they also can greatly increase man’s temptation to confuse his power to progress endlessly into world space with the inner infinity of his spiritual nature and, hence, to lose the vertical line by surrendering to the horizontal one. Finally, the opening of outer space can overcome our terrestial provincialism and produce a new vision of the greatness of the creation of which earth and mankind, their space and their time, are only a part.”

FARIS D. WHITESELL, professor, Northern Baptist Theological Seminary: “The attempted moon shot reveals modern man’s prowess, pride and fear—his prowess in scientific achievement because bearing the image and likeness of the Creator—his pride in racing to be first in this venture—his fear that his enemies may get to the moon first and use the accomplishment in some way to destroy those they hate.”

WARREN C. YOUNG, professor, Northern Baptist Theological Seminary: “Man’s ingenuity in mastering his environment is evident by his determination to penetrate outer space. While the effort in itself has no new moral nor spiritual significance, it demonstrates all too well man’s selfish determination to achieve personal supremacy and to proclaim his self-sufficiency. No new theological issue is involved since man has always been a creature in revolt against his Creator.”

Acknowledgments

The statement by Professor Lewis originally appeared in Christian Herald and is reprinted by permission.

All other comments were written especially for Christianity Today.

Sources of pictures are as follows: Professor Barth, Religious News Service Photo; Professor Brunner, Religious News Service Photo; Professor Lewis, Religious News Service Photo; Professor Niebuhr, Religious News Service Photo; Dr. Ockenga, Fabian Bachrach; Professor Reid, Garcia Studio; Professor Tillich, Religious News Service Photo.

When people leave their churches next Sunday morning how many will do so with burning hearts? How many will be filled with a joy unspeakable and with an urge to tell others about the Source of that joy?

These are questions every minister should ask himself, for the pulpit should be the spiritual transformer that takes the current of divine power and transmits it to the pew.

In our enthusiasm for the social implications of the Gospel, we should remember that these can become effective only when the Gospel itself is understood.

In our anxiety to stress the importance of some immediate world problem, we should never forget that these problems assume their proper perspective only in the light of divine revelation and in the eternity of which they are a part.

Most important of all; in our emphasis on the Church and the Christian way of life, let us keep Christ himself at the center of all we say, for without him all else becomes meaningless.

On the road to Emmaus two despondent disciples were joined by a stranger who inquired about their conversation which he had overheard. Amazed at his apparent ignorance of recent happenings they recounted the story of Jesus—his mighty deeds, their hope that it might have been he who would redeem Israel, of his arrest and crucifixion and death; and, of the strange report of his resurrection.

To their amazement he chided them for their ignorance and unbelief and went on to say: “Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into glory?” Then he began at the Pentateuch and went on down through the prophets expounding to them all the things in the Old Testament Scriptures concerning the Christ.

Later in the evening, while breaking bread, they suddenly recognized him, and he vanished out of their sight.

The immediate remark of these men remains a classic today: “Did not our hearts burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?”

Nor were they alone. In every generation there are those whose hearts are warmed as they hear the Scriptures opened up and the Christ of those Scriptures exalted. That hungry hearts should ever turn away empty is a tragedy we must all seek to avoid.

A few years ago a young minister told this story: he had graduated with honors from seminary and was deeply imbued with the depth of his learning and with his ability to preach on the issues of the hour.

One Sunday he preached what he thought was a moving sermon on a burning social problem. His research was adequate, his points well taken and he felt sure he had made a fine impression.

The following Sunday, when he went into the pulpit he was startled to find a note inserted between the leaves of the pulpit Bible on which was written: “Sir, we would see Jesus.” With considerable spirit he preached his prepared sermon, again on an important social problem.

For several weeks the sermons continued to be masterpieces of philosophical reasoning, a credit to his seminary and to himself, and obviously geared to the problems of the day.

But again a note was found in the pulpit Bible just prior to the preaching of another sermon: “Sir, we would see Jesus,” it said.

Irritated, and slightly ill at ease, he delivered the prepared sermon with even greater emphasis than usual. But during the closing prayer and on the way home the phrase kept pushing other thoughts from his mind: “Sir, we would see Jesus.”

Baffled and humiliated he went to his room and fell on his knees by the side of his bed and cried out to God for guidance. Suddenly there came into his heart the conviction that these unidentified parishioners were right; he had been starving them of the deep spiritual meat which their souls needed. He offered an earnest prayer, asking for forgiveness and for the wisdom he needed for his task.

The following week was one of much prayer and diligent searching of the Scriptures. His sermon was centered in the Christ he found unfolded in its pages, and he made it his task to see that in this sermon the crucified and risen Saviour was held up as man’s one hope for now and for eternity.

Sunday came and with considerable fear and trembling he preached, conscious of the presence and power of the Holy Spirit, but still feeling he had failed to do justice to his glorious subject.

A week passed. As he took his place in the pulpit the next Sabbath his heart sank when he saw a note protruding from the same spot. During the first hymn, with trembling hands he looked at the piece of paper: “Then were the disciples glad, when they saw the Lord,” he read with blurred vision.

The minister who told this story is today pastor of a large city church, and those who hear him preach go away with burning hearts for they have heard the Scriptures expounded and have come face to face with the living Christ.

Let the pulpits of America return to their primary responsibility. Let men go out from our churches with hearts aflame with the love of Christ, and we will not need to worry about their making their impact for him in a world of desperate straits.

To do this will not be easy. It will necessitate a return to a childlike faith in divine revelation. It will take humbling of mind and discarding of presuppositions of long standing. It will take hearts and wills surrendered to and saturated with the Christ found in the Scriptures and now become in reality the Lord of life.

Such preaching will involve the discarding of many books about the Bible and a return to the Book itself. It will require a simple vocabulary in which oratorical flights and catchy phrases will find little place.

Instead of the opinions of those who doubt, there will be the startling affirmation: “Thus saith the Lord.” Replacing the enticing wisdom of men’s words will be the demonstration of the power of the Holy Spirit.

Before our eyes there will then unfold a glorious sight, for every Sunday some will come to know Christ as Saviour for the first time while others will continue to grow in His likeness. Some will know the life-transforming experience of “Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth forever.”

In the midst of a changing and decaying world the Rock, the unchanging Foundation, will become a reality and we will find that the word of the Lord endureth forever:

“And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you.”

RE: REFORMATION SPEAKER

Dear Eutychus:

Appreciate your suggestions for a speaker to address our area-wide Reformation Day Rally. I took the trouble to have one of our fraternal workers check the library on the writings of the men you mentioned. Can’t imagine where you came across them.

This Dr. Luther sounded fine at first. German scholarship and all that—most impressive, provided the man’s English is acceptable. But our spot check of his books shocked us all. The fellow is an apostle of discord. He doesn’t hesitate to attack leading churchmen by name. Publicity given to certain of his observations could set back our relations with the Vatican a whole generation. Terribly opinionated too. Of course his insights are along classical Protestant lines—salvation by grace through faith, but he shows so little appreciation of differing viewpoints. Talks as though he had a corner on the truth. Seems to be a Biblicist also. He is completely out of the question—the irenic tone of our rallies would be lost beyond recovery with such a speaker.

Professor Calvin is really no better. His dogmatism would establish no rapport at all with our Deepwell Heights people. His judgmental attitudes are out of keeping with the maturity and democratic independence of our constituency. I glanced through one of his addresses. It was of extraordinary length, with no apparent concern for the attention span of his hearers, and consisted of exposition with some application of the text of an Old Testament prophet. Of course this has its place for specialists in biblical studies, and you know how I favor greater biblical literacy, but, really, we must be relevant. I am also informed that Calvin shares many of Dr. Luther’s faults as an ecclesiastical trouble maker.

How did such atypical speakers come to your attention? Even the pictures you enclosed were too forbidding for good publicity. No one poses in academic regalia these days, and the simulated wood-cut is affectation.

Thanks anyway for your suggestions. I don’t often hear from you and I appreciate your cooperative spirit in this instance. We want our Reformation observance to deepen our sense of community in Deepwell Heights. What do you think of a more positive term for the rally—perhaps Renewal Day?

Cordially,

MISSION OF THE CHURCH

If your editorial (Aug. 18 issue) were followed to its logical conclusion, these churches on the National Missions frontier would be relegated to the position of being told what to do, and whom would be sent as missionary (why not become Episcopalian in full), what their program must be, with no participation by the local church. There may be cases where this should be done, but there are certainly more cases where this should not be done.… I prefer to participate in the Mission of the whole Church of Jesus Christ to the whole inhabited world to proclaim the whole Gospel—the Eumenical Mission.

Greater Parish of the Cascades

Roslyn, Wash.

While the heathen multiply faster than they are being converted, … boards infected with ecumenical fever, blinded to the Great Commission, confine missionaries—“fraternal workers”—to assist already organized national churches, and destroy their autonomy and weaken them by subsidies.

Lansdale, Pa.

SEEKING AN APPROACH

Mr. Howard speaks as if the welfare of man were a goal inimical to the glory of God (Aug. 18 issue). The Christian approach would not be limited to a humanistic welfare of man, but it would recognize that there can be no glorifying God on the part of one who is indifferent to the welfare of man. Jesus said, “Inasmuch as ye did it not to the least of these, ye did it not to me.”

Haran Baptist Church

Roanoke, Va.

Mr. Howard says that no labor union has the right to deny a man “the right to work.” On what biblical principle does Mr. Howard conclude that an employer has this right, while a league of fellow employers has not? What of the medieval guilds, the various state medical societies, and unified state bar of many states? Are all arrangements which require a man to link his interests in his employment with those of his colleagues immoral and unchristian?

Crivitz, Wisc.

Mr. Howard’s remarks about people who seek security in pensions are all very well, but I believe that Christians who are blessed with this world’s goods and are inclined to disparage old age pensions, Social Security, etc., might do well to read James 2:15, 16.… While I am fully aware of the perils of “welfare economics,” I believe that sometimes a form of the “welfare state” may be the lesser of two evils.

San Antonio, Tex.

MERE CHRISTIANITY

Among your delightfully humorous observations (Eutychus, Aug. 18 issue), you remarked that “only as bold a writer as C. S. Lewis would entitle a book Mere Christianity.” Professor Lewis … is a specialist in sixteenth century English literature. I would venture to say that he is using the term “mere” in the sense current in that period (and as Shakespeare used it) when it meant “absolute.”

Charleston, Ill.

JONAH’S PRECEDENT

“The Story of Clergy Fares” (Aug. 18 issue) was most interesting, but told only part of the story.… If we really believe in the “priesthood of all believers,” on what basis can we claim special discounts in transportation or any other services?… True, ministers may not always be paid adequately, and they do have to travel. But the answer to this is better salaries, not patronage.… Personally, I’m for Jonah, who paid the fare.

First Congregational Church

Westfield, Mass.

INITIAL REACTION

I received the first copy last week … it was worth the entire subscription.

Cape May, N. J.

The term “amillennial,” or “non-millennial,” sometimes produces misunderstanding. It might lead some to suppose that those who hold this view reject what is said in Revelation 20 about “the thousand years.” Of course, this is not so. That passage is very precious to amillennialists; they delight in what it has to say about “the thousand years,” and they insist that the passage has been misunderstood by “pre-mils” and by some “post-mils.”

It is also sometimes assumed that this view is of recent origin. Its fundamental ideas, however, are found in Augustine (A.D. 354–430). Indeed, Prof. D. H. Kromminga, who was himself a “pre-mil,” contended that the Epistle of Barnabas (one of the earliest Christian writings outside the Bible) shows “a very early amillennial type of eschatology” (Millennium in the Church, p. 40), but this conclusion is disputed. Certain it is, that the “a-mil” view is quite in harmony with the statements of the Apostles’ Creed, the great ecumenical creeds, and confessions of the Reformation.

A Change Of View

For some 12 years after his conversion, the present writer was inclined to the “pre-mil” view. He received a jolt, however, from an American expositor who affirmed that the early part of the Acts of the Apostles was a “national offer” to the Jews, while only in the latter part was there the gospel of the grace of God. A further jolt came when he met with the suggestion that there was a new age to come when men would be saved on some other basis than the grace of God. These statements—which are no doubt typical of only a section of “pre-mils”—led the writer to devote himself to a study of the whole subject afresh. Two sections of Scripture had inclined him to the “pre-mil” view:—(1) certain Old Testament prophecies which seemed on the face of them to predict a national restoration of Israel to Palestine, and (2) Revelation 20 which seemed on the face of it to predict a literal thousand-year reign.

Old Testament Prophecy

When setting out to study the subject afresh, the writer was engaged in giving Bible class talks on the Book of Ezekiel. Among commentaries consulted were those by Bishop Wordsworth and Principal P. Fairbairn. These expositors revealed a wealth of meaning in the prophecies; they were faithful to the text but brought from it a rich message. While still a “pre-mil,” the present writer read—with the best will to follow and assimilate—commentaries on Joel and Zechariah by a prominent American “pre-mil,” but found them remarkably barren in spiritual help. In comparison the line of thought followed by Wordsworth and Fairbairn was rich and satisfying. It seemed to open a new realm.

In the course of study, the writer noted that Old Testament prophecy at times bore on the face of it a warning against a literal interpretation. For example, Ezekiel prophesied that “my servant David shall be king over them” (37:24): yet even some of the most ardent literalists admit that the reference is not to the actual David, but to Christ.

The writer was also impressed with the difficulties confronting the uniformly literal interpretation of Old Testament prophecy, e.g., the future restoration of the temple, of sin-offerings for atonement, of Israel, of the great Old Testament world powers such as the Assyrians, and of such neighboring nations as the Moabites.

Most important of all was the fact that the New Testament in its application of Old Testament passages compelled us to give an enlarged meaning and spiritual significance to prophecies which, at first sight, seemed to apply only to the Jew.

The writer also examined the teaching of the New Testament afresh, and was tremendously struck with the testimony everywhere in its pages to the general resurrection and general judgment. Everywhere the judgment of the righteous and of the wicked was spoken of as one great event. This is so in the parables of our Lord (Matt. 13:30, 41–43) and in his teaching elsewhere in the Gospels (Matt. 16:27; cp. John 6:40 with 12:48). The writings of Paul and Peter speak also of a general judgment. Not only is there no mention of a thousand-year reign on earth, there seems to be no room left for such a reign (Rom. 2:5–16; 2 Thess. 2; 2 Pet. 3). Even in the book of Revelation, we seem to have pictures of a general judgment. In chapter 11 the saints are rewarded and the wicked “destroyed” at the same time. At the close of Revelation 20 “the dead, small and great, stand before God,” those whose names are in the book of life apparently being present (verses 12 and 15).

The Thousand Years

Does Revelation 20:1–10 strike a different note? It is to Augustine, as Dr. H. B. Swete points out, that we owe the first serious effort to expound Revelation 20. He saw in the captivity of Satan nothing else than the binding of the strong man by the Stronger than he (of which our Lord spoke in Matthew 12:29). The thousand years he took to be the whole interval between the first advent and the second. Dr. Swete says that these ideas “find a place in most of the ancient Greek and Latin commentators, who wrote after Augustine’s time” (Apocalypse, p. 266).

Amillennialists follow the line of teaching in which Augustine led the way. In this whole gospel age, there is a restraint put upon Satan’s activities. This restraint is what may be termed the earthly aspect of the thousand years. Satan is a defeated and conquered foe, for Christ triumphed over him by His cross (John 12:31; 16:11; Col. 2:15; Heb. 2:14). Even in other portions of the Revelation (see chap. 12) it is evident that there is a restraint on Satan; he cannot work his will against Christ or Christ’s people. The special restraint upon Satan in this present age which is emphasized in Revelation 20 is a restraint with regard to the nations. From verse 8 it appears that he is restrained from luring the nations on to the battle of the great day of God Almighty, that is, to the final conflict and their own ruin. Near the end of time, this restraint will be withdrawn and the last great conflict will ensue, in which he will be utterly worsted (Rev. 20:7–10).

Revelation 20 also sets forth what may be termed the heavenly aspect of the thousand years, that is, of the long period between the advents. John says: “I saw the souls.…” What is here set forth is the bliss of the blessed dead in the inter-adventual period. They are “risen with Christ” (Christians are so described in Rom. 6; Eph. 2; Col. 3, etc.) and so they are “the first resurrection.” Their warfare on earth is over; they are “dead” as far as the body is concerned, but in their spirits they “live and reign” with Christ in the highest heaven. In contrast with these, “the rest of the dead” are dead in every sense, bodily and spiritually, and they will come to life again, in the body, only to die the dreadful second death.

The term “1000” in the thousand-year binding of Satan indicates the completeness of Christ’s victory over him, though he is permitted a period of continuing restless activity (to which the book of Revelation bears abundant witness). The term “1000” in the thousand-year reign of the saints signifies its heavenly completeness, security and bliss. As Dr. Warfield says: “The sacred number seven in combination with the equally sacred number three, forms the number of holy perfection ten, and when this ten is cubed into a thousand, the seer has said all that he could say to convey to our minds the ideal of heavenly completeness.”

This interpretation of Revelation 20:1–10 emphasizes the completeness of Christ’s victory on Calvary and the thoroughness of his defeat of Satan, as well as the glory and bliss of the redeemed in heaven.

New Heavens And New Earth

The Lord’s return ushers in the new heavens and new earth. The “a-mil” takes many promises which the “pre-mil” relates to the earthly millennium as more appropriately applied to the new earth. In fact, many prophecies which are claimed for the thousand-year kingdom explicitly refer to the eternal kingdom (2 Sam. 7:16; Isa. 9:7; Dan. 7:14; Luke 1:33). In the new earth the triumph of righteousness will be absolute and forever; no Satanic rebellion will ever mar its peace. There will then be nothing to hurt or destroy in all God’s holy mountain—then and not until then.

It is sometimes said that the “a-mil” view is pessimistic. True, it does not hold forth the hope of a converted world or of a general triumph of righteousness, as “post-mils” usually do. But then the Scriptures teach that evil and good will continue side by side to the end; wheat and tares will grow together till the harvest. Is it so, however, that “a-mils” are very pessimistic? Dr. G. Vos, an outstanding “a-mil,” looked for “a comprehensive conversion of Israel” before the second advent, and while he spoke of “the forces of evil gathering strength,” he also spoke of “an extension of the reign of truth” before the end.

This view bears testimony to the one great event which lies ahead, the second advent, an event to be accompanied by the resurrection of all, the judgment of all, and the end of the world. Christ will sit on his judgment-throne, and all nations of men which have lived will be gathered before him, to be consigned to their eternal destiny. As John L. Girardeau said: “Heaven will lend its glories and hell its horrors to emphasize the proceedings of that day.” It is the day of perdition of ungodly men, but the day for which Christians earnestly look (2 Pet. 3:7, 12).

END

W. J. Grier is Minister of Botanic Avenue Irish Evangelical Church in Belfast, Ireland. He holds the B.A. degree from Queen’s University, Belfast. He was awarded the R. L. Maitland Prize for New Testament exegesis during studies at Princeton Theological Seminary. He served as Chairman of the Council of Irish Evangelical Churches from 1957–58 and is Editor of the Irish Evangelical. His published works include The Momentous Event and The Origin and Witness of the Irish Evangelical Church. His essay from the amillennial viewpoint concludes the series on divergent millennial views which began in the September 1 issue of Christianity Today.

Part I

(Part II will appear in the next issue)

The history of human thought continually confronts us with questions regarding divine revelation. On one hand, some thinkers reject any possibility of divine revelation in the world on the basis of their atheism or agnosticism. On the other, a great number of thinkers espouse revelation, yet the variety of viewpoints seriously and fundamentally contradict each other. When we specially emphasize a revelation of God in the world, moreover, basic differences emerge over the character and the content of this revelation. In this connection we think not only of non-Christian religions, which often also appropriate the notion of “revelation”—Mohammedanism, for example,—but also of differences among those who, in one way or another, identify divine revelation with the Christian faith.

Specifically, then, we face the controversy over the manner in which divine revelation has come to us. Scholars have frequently opposed the local and historical frontiers of revelation, pleading instead for a more general revelation, a universal unveiling (revelation signifies “apocalypse,” unveiling), and have set themselves against the orthodox vision of special revelation which seemed too narrow and too limited. Especially since the eighteenth century the speculative viewpoint has sharply objected to basing man’s salvation upon historical facts. In particular, Lessing’s now well-known dictum that it is impossible to base eternal truths upon historical actions exercised great influence. More and more the impression grew that historical facts are accidental, changing, fortuitous and relative. It was asserted also that all historical circumstances so interpenetrate each other that any discrimination of the special revelation of God in certain special historical happenings, in distinction from others, would be impossible.

In the idealistic interpretation of revelation, the Christian Church in the nineteenth century came in contact with one of the fiercest attacks upon its fundamental doctrine. This philosophy found divine revelation not in historical occurrences, but in the realm of idea alone. Eternal truth must have an eternal foundation and can not be dependent, so it was contended, on historical circumstances. Especially since the rise of anti-miraculous biblical criticism in the eighteenth century, a desire came to the fore to “secure” revelation by freeing it, in principle, from dependence upon the historical. Historical criticism could attack everything—so it was said in the nineteenth century—including the historical reality of Jesus of Nazareth; and what then remained for the Christian faith, if this depended upon him as an historical Saviour? Idealistic interpretations sought deeper foundations for the truth of revelation in the divine idea. When dogmatics influenced by Hegel expounded the unity of the divine and the human, it protested against Christian dogma which argued for the unity of God and man by special reference to the historical Christ. The great fault of the Church—so it was said—was its limitation and confinement of a universal idea in one person. With the greatest emphasis, therefore, the modern theology of the nineteenth century discarded the confessions of the ecumenical Christian councils, especially the Chalcedonian formula, “very God, very man.”

What the Church in Christ Jesus had confessed as an isolated historical reality, it was asserted, must be understood as a universal; the historical could never in itself be the revelation of God, but could only have value as illustration of the divine idea. As Strauss expressed it in his much-quoted phrase, the divine idea has not poured itself into but a single mold.

That a revelation of God should come to us in the here and now is the great stumbling block for the idealistic view of revelation. It is not by accident, therefore, that in times of idealistic outlook a crisis inevitably arises over the confession of the absoluteness of Christianity. All religions have a share, in larger or smaller measure, in the truth of the idea, it is said. One cannot speak, consequently, of a radical decision in connection with Jesus Christ, truly God and truly man, the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

God And Modern History

In addition to this idealistic misunderstanding, another theory poses an equally serious threat to revelation. This is the notion that we ought simply to equate revelation and history according to our own insight. In contrast with the idealistic view of revelation of the nineteenth century, let us now contemplate the view of revelation prevalent in the days of National Socialism in Germany. When Hitler came to power in 1933, the church was pressed for a decision on the question of the meaning of this phase of German history.

There were those who from the beginning had grasped and pointed out the demonic structure of National Socialism. Despite all its promises of freedom for the church and religion, they saw the mortal danger of the swastika and totalitarianism against the Cross.

There were others in the German church (the group, so-called, of German Christians) who professed to hear the voice of God in the events of the thirties. They spoke of the clearly-defined revelation of what was happening; they called upon the Church to seize the opportunities God was now giving it. And everyone who refused to discern the voice of the Good Shepherd in these events was denied the right to leadership in the Church. This event-filled history of the thirties was hailed as nothing more or less than revelation.

So long as things went well for Germany, these people, like the rest of the populace, followed Hitler’s cue. While success followed success, Hitler spoke continually of the guidance and providence of God. Success and blessing were thus identified in an entirely unbiblical manner. Even as Goebbels spoke about the logic of history, so Hitler, at the time of the death of President Roosevelt, spoke of a turning, of a decisive reversal, in which God had come to the rescue with a new prospect of German victory.

In this manner a special event of history was interpreted, without validity, as revelation. The event was not placed under the searching light of the God-given unique revelation in Christ Jesus, but was itself promoted as “special revelation.” It is not difficult to see that such a view of revelation is as dangerous as the idealistic vision of the nineteenth century. Both developments forfeited an awareness of God’s true revelation.

Hebrew-Christian View

This twofold danger zone should be kept in mind as we go into the treatment of the Hebrew-Christian view of divine revelation.

In this we shall have to deal with the biblical vision of divine revelation. That we here use two terms (Hebrew and Christian) signifies not that we are discussing two different views of revelation which are somehow connected with each other, but rather, that we are dealing with one central, harmonious view of divine revelation. The hyphen in the term “Hebrew-Christian” points to the progress of revelation in the course of history before and after Christ.

The remarkable feature of the unified witness of the Old and New Testaments lies always in this, that in its whole course we come in contact not with an idea, but with the revealing acts and words of God in history. The revelation of God, as it is witnessed in the Old and New Testaments, is never concerned with a number of truths that stand by themselves, which are forever “true,” independent of time and place. This idealism is entirely unknown to Scripture.

The Old Testament makes this completely clear. It fixes attention on the creating and speaking and acting God, who reveals himself in the path of history. This revelation of God in history carries a definite character and supplies the basis for radical conclusions. It is not given to us in the form of a vague universality, but in moving particularity, such as appears especially in the historical act of the choosing of Israel. In this election, assuredly, God does not forget the peoples of the world. Abraham received the promise that with him all peoples of earth would be blessed (Gen. 12:3), but the way to this universal blessing runs through this particular revelation to Israel. The Exodus stands out as a mountaintop above the valleys of Israel’s history, towering in remembrance to the days of the prophets.

God’s dealing and God’s act! Its concern is not with an idea, but with a way which comes into view—the way in which God leads, and in which men must follow him. It is the way of his election and his covenant, of grace and of judgment.

Jehovah, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, is the faithful and unchanging God. His acts in history are a breathtaking performance, great and majestic. The hand of God is directed against the enemies of his chosen people whenever they disallow them freedom and opportunity, but it is directed also against his own people when they forsake his ways. So weighty is their calling and election that the chosen people bear a special responsibility: “You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities” (Amos 3:2). When they refuse to serve him, God allows his people to be carried into exile.

The God who deals thus with us, in judgment and grace, is the great unchanging one. In the moving variations of the history of revelation, a light keeps on shining: “and he let none of his words fall to the ground” (1 Sam. 3:19). In these dealings, the teleological character of the acts of God strikes us. The whole Old Testament shows no concern with the cyclical view of history, but only with God’s purposeful dealing.

The important thing in God’s dealings is this, that he even uses the sinful acts of men to serve his plan and his purpose. When in their sinful planning Joseph’s brothers sold him into captivity, then God’s dealings put their deed straight; later we hear Joseph saying, “Ye meant evil against me; but God meant it for good” (Gen. 50:20). Here we are not concerned with abstract thinking, but with thought as deed. In the deepest darkness of the history of the people of Israel, it remains incontestable that God did not forsake the work of his hands.

At times, scholars have ventured, upon the basis of the Bible, to speak of a divine defeat or failure. But to do so is to diminish the height and majesty of God.

God is the shepherd of the sheep, the leader of his people. He is not the hidden God full of arbitrary highhandedness, but the God of each day and each night. When the heart turns away from him, then and then only men must reckon on his divine concealment in judgment: “Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself, O God of Israel, the Saviour” (Isa. 45:15). Then he becomes the silent God, until the call rings out again for his word and his presence (1 Sam. 3:1, 10). The moving relationship between God and his people is pictured to us in human terms, but precisely this anthropomorphic manner of speaking in Scripture brings us under the deep impression of the reality of the revelation and of the deep currents of God’s dealing and speaking.

“In all their affliction he was afflicted and the angel of his presence saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed them and he bare them and carried them all the days of old” (Isa. 63:9). But presently we see also the judgment of God and the reality of divine anger: “But they rebelled and vexed his holy Spirit: therefore he was turned to be their enemy and he fought against them” (Isa. 63:10).

But when the eye turns again toward God, and the heart goes out to him, then God becomes known once more in his love, mercy, and greatness, and the heart once more is filled with wonder: “Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great water, and thy footsteps are not known. Thou leadest thy people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron” (Psalm 77:19, 20).

This God of history is unfathomable and incomprehensible, but that does not remove the fact that he is a God of nearness. In the way of faith he is Father, and although Israel calls him the Almighty, he is also for Israel the hearer of its prayers: “O thou that hearest prayer, unto thee shall all flesh come!” (Psalm 65:2).

He is not the God who is merely a remote first cause, the unmoved mover of all things, but he is the merciful God, the listening God. And precisely because he is merciful, he does not allow his people to wander in ways of their own choosing, but follows them with his anger and again and again calls them to turn back.

More and more in our time we learn again to understand the deep religious riches of the Old Testament. In the nineteenth century, the tendency was to push the Old Testament aside, because it was viewed as a provincial Jewish writing, with little universal significance. And when anti-Semitism in Germany brought modern minds into confusion, the Old Testament was disparaged as a primitive stage of thinking.

We now understand that whoever casts aside the Old Testament also fails to do justice to the content of the New. The reason is not simply that the one follows upon the other. By this rejection, one shatters the unity of the witness of him who is the God of history and who in a particular way has sought the world.

G. C. Berkouwer is Professor of Systematic Theology at Free University in Amsterdam, The Netherlands. He is author of a monumental series titled Studies in Dogmatics, many of the volumes already translated into English. This essay on “Revelation: the Hebrew-Christian View,” written especially for readers of Christianity Today, is to appear in three parts.

Many Christians these days are deeply troubled over world conditions, and well they might be, except that they are troubled for the wrong reasons.

Up to very recent times we Christians could think restfully of heaven and earth. The earth behaved itself, as did also the moon, the planets and the stars. The nations were kept under the control of kings, emperors and various other rulers. Wars were local and fairly soon over. The soldiers did all the dying and the civilian masses were relatively safe. Weapons were conventional and of limited effectiveness. Earth afforded a home for the Christian as long as he needed it and a heaven above the starry heavens awaited him when his earthly pilgrimage was over.

Then came the atomic age, bringing weapons capable of annihilating whole populations in a split second with fallout that would jeopardize the health of almost everyone not killed in the initial holocaust and threaten the sanity and normality of generations yet unborn.

Hard upon the nuclear age came the space age with its artificial satellites, showing that if God could make a moon, so could Russia and the United States—not so large perhaps nor so long lived, but a moon nevertheless—which proved that if we were a little behind the Creator we were at least catching up. Interplanetary travel is now declared to be the next thing on the agenda, and at least a few now living may reasonably anticipate a trip to the moon (God’s original moon, that is) and possibly to Mercury, Venus or even Mars.

The familiar, safe universe to which our minds had grown accustomed and which we trusted almost as much as we trusted God has blown up in our faces. The new concept of space has stunned us and our faith is staggering in an effort to equate the highly complex world of space and nuclear energy with the relatively simple world of the Bible and Christian devotion.

Another thing that disturbs believers, especially those of middle age and beyond, is the scrambled condition of the nations. We grew up accepting certain nations as great and others as small and inconsequential. Now some of the greats are on their knees, some of the insignificant ones are calling the turns, while a few of the ancient nations, such as Egypt, Syria and China, which had for centuries lain dormant like extinct volcanos are erupting and threatening to bury great areas under their lava.

Place names the Christian formerly met only on the pages of his Bible now appear daily on the front page of the newspaper. Such names as Lebanon, Arabia, Ethiopia have suddenly come alive, and their amazing resurrection has coincided with the coming of the space age. Nothing will stay in place; we are forced to suspend judgment, admit ignorance and rethink a dozen matters we had once accepted uncritically as settled.

This sudden transition from a small, slow, manageable universe to one of overwhelming power, incredible distances, speeds beyond comprehension and vast, wild, exploding bodies is too much for some of us. The quiet, anthropocentric world of the Bible is gone and, sadly enough, with it has gone the confidence of millions. These had united in one concept the world they knew with the faith they held, and as one went the other appears to have gone with it.

To find ourselves we Christians need to stop a moment and do some hard sharp thinking. We need to think, as Anselm once said, not that we may believe but because we already believe. Our thinking must center around the Scriptures of holy prophet and apostle, and must come to rest at last upon the sacred Person of Christ and our present relation to him.

The French genius, Pascal, said, “In the Holy Scriptures we find true prediction, and we find it nowhere else.” With that statement I believe every school of evangelical thought will agree, and the truth is that conditions as they exist today were foretold in the Scriptures from three thousand to eighteen hundred years ago. Our present confusion arises from our having looked straight at those predictions without understanding or believing them. We refused to accept the world the Bible said would be, and clung childishly to the safer, more conventional world with which we were familiar, until it began to dissolve beneath our feet.

Just now we evangelicals are suffering a sharp reaction from the prophetic teachings of the first third of the twentieth century. The pendulum has swung from too much prophecy to too little, and that just when we most need the sobering word of the prophet to keep us calm and sane amid the crash of worlds. For this our Bible teachers are more than a little to blame. They looked at biblical prediction through a microscope instead of through a telescope as God intended.

A clever Swiss writer, Denis de Rougemont, has said something to the effect that God says “I am He who is,” while the devil says “I am not.” God works by asserting his being and the devil by denying his. From behind his screen of pretended nonexistence the devil has worked successfully to discredit prophecy at the very moment we need it most. We dare not let him continue to deceive us.

The Old Testament prophets saw the advent of Christ through a telescope; the microscopic detail was left to the after wisdom of fulfillment. Then Christ and his apostles raised the telescope again and gave the Church the long view of things to come. The chaotic world we are now entering is the very one the apostles saw through the telescope of biblical prediction. Some details are clear; many others must wait fulfillment. But we can see enough to recognize the landscape, or perhaps we should say the skyscape, for a great deal of New Testament prophecy is concerned with the heavens—not the atmosphere only but the far-out world of interstellar space.

One has but to read the predictive passages of the New Testament to discover how accurately they describe conditions as they are now or as our scientists warn us or promise us that they soon will be. But most significant of all is that those Scriptures place the interests of latter day men in the starry heavens. They tell us that a time will come when the eyes of mankind will be focused on space in terror or in hope. And is it not further significant that the New Testament writers should have foreseen and described the psychological conditions on earth set up by happenings in space? and that they should have done this nearly two thousand years ago, when the most advanced scientist could not have dreamed of anything as fantastic as the modern space age?

Looking through the telescope of New Testament prophecy what do we see? The shaking of the heavens and the earth, the panicky flight of helpless populations fleeing in terror before something that is taking place among the heavenly bodies, the ascending of pillars of smoke into what would now be called the stratosphere or the ionosphere, the thunderous passing away of the earth and all the related heavens to make room for a new heaven and a new earth that will be a fit home for a redeemed human race, the appearance from remote space of beings wholly unlike anything with which earth dwellers are familiar.

These are a few of the wonders we behold through the telescope of prophecy. It has been the practice of some exegetes to dismiss these predicted events as figurative or symbolic, but I cannot see how a serious inquirer can do this. Since the Messianic predictions of the Old Testament were quite literally fulfilled down to the minutest detail, is it not reasonable to believe that the prophecies of the New Testament will also be?

Making no attempt at close exegesis of any of the New Testament passages mentioned here, we may yet say that the writers knew too much about our day, for the whole thing to be mere coincidence. That they did know about our times in such detail should afford assurance that the Eternal Spirit moved them to write.

Let any man whose faith is trembling before events among the nations of the world read the twenty-fourth chapter of Matthew. Should he be troubled about brainwashing techniques, hidden persuaders, the growing power of governmental control over the minds of men, incipient dictators, unionism or the death of honor among nations, let him read the thirteenth chapter of the Revelation. Should the revival of Romanism worry him, let him turn to Revelation 17. Should he be on the verge of surrendering to the blandishments of religious liberalism, let him read the two epistles of Paul to Timothy.

Read those passages and remember that they were written more than eighteen hundred years ago. Do not worry about close interpretation. Use the telescope and glass the terrain; it may be too early for the microscope. The important thing is that God knew all about what is happening centuries before it began to take place.

Again, we should remember who we are and what is our relation to the triumphant Christ. As Thomas Kelly has said, we Christians live simultaneously on two levels, the physical and the spiritual. We tend to lose our heads when we become engrossed with the physical—matter, motion, time, space, energy—and forget the spiritual.

When we understand that true faith in Christ effects for the Christian an eternal union with him as he is in God, time and space cease to have the same meaning for use as they had before. When God takes a believing man into his heart he rescues him from the corrosive action of time and the breathless fear of energy and space.

If God smiles he must surely be smiling at Sputniks and Explorers. Without doubt he pities the little man who can control growing numbers of swiftly moving missiles but cannot curb his own temper or direct his feet free of the grave. And he will yet judge in great severity a race that has made a moral wallow of the earth and is now determined to extend its pollution to the heavenly bodies.

We have erred by thinking of ourselves as “under the circumstances,” a situation in which no Christian should ever allow himself to be placed. The grinding motion of circumstances soon wears out the bodies and souls of men, and those of the present day are particularly sharp and abrasive. We must escape them by taking our position in the heavenly places where we by every right belong.

That the Christian belongs above is not a poetic fancy. The data rests upon the solid foundation of New Testament theology. Our spiritual home is the Father’s house. We should learn to think from the throne down, not from the earth out. Let us but accept the earth as our psychological home, the proper vantage point from which we view the cosmic scene, and the space boys are one up on us immediately. John said of Christ, “He that cometh from above is above all: he that is of the earth is earthly, and speaketh of the earth: he that cometh from heaven is above all” (John 3:31).

The farther we move up into God the calmer we become. God is never caught unaware. He is sovereign over all, and in infinite power he is working toward a vast purpose which his infinite wisdom has assuredly devised.

To go out by that same door where I came in, let me repeat that Christians these days are disturbed for the wrong reasons. To grieve over the wounds and sorrows of the world is good and right; to share the woes of our fellow men, to bear on our hearts the burden of the world, to intercede in tears and travail for their sins is to fill up in some measure that which is behind of the sufferings of Christ. But to panic before growing knowledge of the heavenly bodies is to reveal how inadequate has been our conception of God and how little we really understand the meaning of the resurrection of Christ and his ascension to the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens.

A. W. Tozer has been Pastor of the Christian and Missionary Alliance Church of Chicago since 1928. He is Editor of The Alliance Witness and a past vice president of the national movement. His published works include Wingspread, The Pursuit of God, Divine Conquest, and The Root of the Righteous.