The audio and .pdf outlines are available here.

“O God, You are my God; early will I seek You; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water” (Ps 63:1).

The Scriptures declare to us that the Christian life is lived as a pilgrim in the wilderness between the City of Destruction and the Celestial City. Meditate with me about the Psalmists’ experience in our text before us and how that applies to us.

Have you ever been so thirsty that you longed so deeply for a drink of cold water that you thought you could actually feel cold water running down your throat? Thirst is a powerful desire. It causes your body to ache, your mouth to salivate, and your mind to wander in delusion. As Christians, those brought out of Egypt by the covenant Lord, we are like pilgrims in the desert, sojourners in a foreign land, wandering vagabonds in this life as we awaite our heavenly homeland. And as David desired water in that desert in which he sat in Psalm 63, so too we are to desire the Lord Jesus Christ and His Spirit, “the living water” (Jn 7:38) which satisfies our souls.

I’ve been amazed recently at how often the imagery of pilgrimage and dwelling in tents appears in Scripture as a description of the life of the faithful: Adam and Eve we’re excommunicated from Paradise to till the ground in the sweat of their brow outside of the Garden, “east of Eden.” Noah and family wandered in the Ark and then dwelt in tents after the Flood in a completely new and foreign world. Abraham, of course, journeyed from Ur of the Chaldees to the land of Canaan, which he would never posses. Jacob spoke of his life as “the days of the years of my pilgrimage” (Gen 47:9) towards the end of his life. Moses lived in Midian for 40 years, then wandered another 40 with the entire nation of Israel behind him. And the prophets depict the exiled people as pilgrims in the parched desert awaiting to tread the highway back into the Promised Land.

But let us not think that this is only an Old Testament image of the believer, of the Church. As Reformed Christians we see the beautiful harmony and unity between the Old and New Covenants, between Israel and the Church, between the plans of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

In our New Testaments the apostles describe us as the New Covenant community as having more in common with God’s people as the wandered outside the Land from the time of Abraham through the wilderness generation, than with the national people as established in the Land under the military leadership of Joshua. In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter two, we read of Jesus being taken into Egypt of al places as a baby, only to return in an anti-typical second Exodus. In the Acts of the Apostles, chapter eight, Saul’s intense persecution causes the Church in Jerusalem to scatter to Judea and Samaria. Luke here uses the verbal form of the Greek word diaspora, “diaspora,” which was the word used to describe the dispersed Church during the captivity in the Old Testament. Paul describes the Church in Rome as begin justified by faith, just like the plgrim Abraham (ch. 4). He calls us “sons of God” who are “led by the Spirit” (8:14), hearkening back to Yahweh’s words that “Israel is My son” (Ex 4:22) and that he (Israel) was “led” by the LORD by the pilar of cloud and fire, an Old Testament image of the Holy Spirit (Ex 13:20-22). Paul also warns us not to be like the wilderness generation of Israel (1 Cor 10). In Peter’s First Epistle the apostle to the Jews writes to the Churches in Asia Minor, which were at least mixed congregation’s on Jewish and Gentile Christians, as “the pilgrims of the Dispersion” (1:1; Greek, diasporas). He comforts them in their sufferings by saying that this dispersed community on earth has an inheritance “reserved in heaven” (1:4). Later he begs us as “sojourners and pilgrims” (2:11) to live holy lives, no doubt remindeing us of the unfaithful wilderness generation. Therefore he speaks in 2 Peter 1:13-14 as soon dying, “putting off my tent,” as does Paul in 2 Corinthians 5:1, as we await the resurrection. Therefore the writer of Hebrews encourages us in 11:13-16 by saying that the fathers died as pilgrims, strangers on the earth, who desired a heavenly homeland, which is better than any home on earth.

Beloved, we are that wandering generation, we like Abraham who lived outseide the Land promised to him by God Himself. Is it any coincidence, then, that the early Church Fathers, such as Augustine in The City of God, and the Reformers in their Psalm-singing piety, saw themselves as pilgrims, as a suffering and wandering people outside of the Land in this life, awaiting the inheritance to come! Augustine’s prayer for the Church, as the Roman Empire was on the verge of crumbling, was to see by faith the City of God as the true home of the Church, not here in the City of Man.

“So what does this all mean for me,” I know you are asking? It applies to us in our ongoing sanctification in four ways. First, knowing that we are pilgrims reminds us that this life is difficult and often dreadful because it’s not our final destination. We are living in “this present evil age” (Gal 1:18), the “present time” of suffering (Rom 8:18). Don’t get down when life is difficult, when suffering hits, because it is not that God has left you, but that He’s using your sufferings to prepare you for glory now!

Second, living a life of holiness is difficult. It’s not just that life is difficult, this side of glory, but that living in this life as Christians is difficult because we personally are making a pilgrimage from sin to glory, from imperfection to perfection. This is why our beloved Belgic Confession says in article 15, “…the awareness of this corruption may make them often groan as they eagerly wait to be delivered from this body of death” (BC, 15).

Third, living in this difficult age trying to live the difficult life of holiness cannot be done alone. As pilgrims we need each other to survive in this wilderness. Your struggles are the same struggles the person sitting next to you is undergoing. You are not alone, but you are a member of that “great cloud of witnesses,” universally, but especially locally in this church. Help each other, pray for each other, lift each other up when you trip and fall on a stone. Especially tell each other to look to the bronze serpent, our Lord Jesus Christ, when you are bit by the serpents temptations and sinful ways.

Fourth, in all of this wandering and struggling, lift up your hearts. In this unstable life lift up your hearts to contemplate the stable life to come. We open our worship with the call to worship and sursum corda, but daily lift up your hearts and offer them to God, “promptly and sincerely.”

We are pilgrims, beloved, and the best part of being a pilgrim is that we won’t always be pilgrims, but we will on that Day cease from wandering and enter into eternal rest in the Land of the New Heavens and New Earth.

The Wednesday Study in Theology here at the Oceanside United Reformed Church continued through Thomas Manton’s sermons, “The Temptation of Christ,” this week. Manton’s second sermon deals with the first temptation of Christ’s by the Devil. Here is the link to part 1 of the lecture (which also includes a .pdf of the outline) and part 2.

1. Consider that the knowledge of Christ as fully God and fully man in one Person is the most useful object of our contemplations and affections (1, 312–314). Christ’s identity as the God-man places him in a unique position to make your redemption possible. He also reveals the glory of God to your understanding in a unique manner.

2. Diligently study the Scriptures with the express purpose of finding the glory of Christ in them (1, 314–316). The Scriptures assert that Christ is their central object (Lk. 24:26–27, 45–46; 2 Cor. 3:13–16). The three primary ways that Christ is revealed in the Old Testament is by direct descriptions of his Person and his incarnation, by prophecies concerning him, and by the Old Testament ceremonies of worship (Owen richly expands each of these). Too often Christians read the Old Testament in a manner that is no better than the Jews. Even if we do not see Christ in everything in the Old Testament, we must be careful to take our knowledge of Christ with us while reading the Old Testament.

3. Meditate frequently upon the knowledge of Christ that you have already obtained, both from Scripture and from sermons (1, 316–317). Failing to use and to build upon the knowledge of Christ that we have already received is the “fundamental mistake” standing behind the lack of spiritual growth among so many Christians. This is the error of treating the doctrines of Christ as fundamental and basic, thus taking them for granted. Owen adds that although we must not isolate ourselves from the world, we must love solitude as well. Without some measure of regular solitude, meditation upon the Lord Jesus Christ is impossible.

4. Do not simply rely upon fixed times set aside for meditation, but think upon Christ at every possible occasion throughout the day (1, 317–320). This is particularly important during those seasons in which Christ “withdraws” himself from our “spiritual experience.” If we know what it is like to “miss” Christ sometimes, then we should take comfort from the fact that this means that we have truly known what it is to have fellowship with him. When the comforts of communion with Christ diminish, we must seek him with the desperation with which a thirsty man seeks water. Christ acts in this way for our good, since his withdrawals increase our dependence upon him and the fervency with which we seek him. The truth is that Christ is always near to us, but “the principal actings of the life of faith consist in the frequency of our thoughts concerning him” (1, 319).

5. Accompany your thoughts of Christ with admiration, adoration, and thanksgiving (1, 320–322). The more we contemplate our divine/human Lord, then the more we shall realize that he is beyond the limits of our comprehension. This should lead us to love the Lord Jesus Christ with every faculty of our souls. In heaven, we shall exercise all of the faculties of our souls simultaneously in the worship and service of Christ, but in this world both our understanding and our strength is incomplete. Therefore, sometimes our thoughts of Christ should lead to admiration, others to adoration, and still others to thanksgiving according to our understanding and our capacity. You must never lose sight of the fact that the purpose for which you know Christ is worship.

Owen closes this section with the useful reminder that meditation upon the glory of the Person of Christ only occurs in the context of a heavenly-minded life. This is an important thought. Perhaps one reason why meditation is so hard for us is that we have not set our minds on things above where Christ is seated at the right hand of the Father in everything that we set our hands to (Col. 3:1–2). Meditation upon the glory of Christ is a jarring and painful interruption when our minds are trained to run along the well-worn grooves of our earthly routine. Let us never forget that we are pilgrims and strangers in the world! Let us never be surprised at the difficulty of heavenly-mindedness on this side of glory! Let us make use of means to help us contemplate the glory of our Savior more fully! And may we come to our heavenly Father who is able and ready to help us to meditate upon the glory of his Son through the power of the Holy Spirit!

In his introduction and recommendation of this book, Dr. R. C. Sproul wrote, “My guess is that few people will ever pick up this book and read it. Its theme and content are too alien to modern Christianity to evoke much interest” (pg. vii). Without the awareness of many, modern Christianity has gradually become earthly-minded, shifting its focus away from the glories of heaven without being aware of it. When people do not know that a problem exists, they do not seek a remedy for that problem. This book both diagnoses the problem of worldliness and offers medicine to treat the disease.

In a sense, the title of this book is misleading. The treatise on earthly-mindedness only occupies the first third of the book. The rest of the book is divided into two sections. The first teaches us how to live our lives as those whose citizenship is in heaven, and the second teaches us how to walk with God throughout our lives.

Among many things, one thing that struck my heart closely in this book was Burroughs’ evaluation of anxiety. The Scriptures forbid believers to have anxiety over the things of this life (Luke 12). This is one of the most difficult points of practical godliness for many, if not most, of God’s people, whether they are currently under trials or not. Burroughs argued that the only causes of anxiety are the fear of some evil coming upon us, and the fear that we shall not have the means or ability to prevent that evil (pg. 12). Some people become completely miserable if they have nothing but the promises of God to protect them. All believers shall struggle with anxiety, but if we allow our anxiety to grow unchecked, we are implying that we have relinquished the care of God over us and have decided to take things into our own hands. If this is convicting (as it should be), Burroughs offers many helps and encouragements from the Scriptures. He is a physician who always wounds before he heals, but though he wounds deeply, he always provides what is necessary to heal his patients.

There are at least two sections that I intend to return to often in this volume. Section 1, chapter 8, provides “Five Directions How to Get our Minds Free from Earthly-Mindedness,” and section 2, chapter 22 contains, “Seven Directions How to Get a Heavenly Conversation.” The entire third section on “Walking with God” is very comforting as well, and the latter parts of this section provide many practical helps on how to persevere with comfort and joy in our daily devotional lives.

This book originated as a series of sermons that Burroughs preached for the profit of his congregation. His friends published the sermons after his death and noted that they had been “twice preached”—once in the practice of the preacher, and once in the hearing of the congregation. In my experience, Burroughs stands out even from among the great men of his age.  He is always simple and easy to follow, always profitable, and always eager to comfort God’s people and promote peace between men and God as well as between men and men.

Amandus Polanus’ (1561-1610) work called The Substance of Christian Religion is a practical body of divinity.  Regarding the term “regeneration” Polanus writes the following:

“Regeneration is a benefit of God, by which our corrupted nature is renewed to the image of God by the Holy Spirit …. That same is also called sanctification and the gift of grace. Also of schoolmen it is called infused grace … Regeneration is either begun or perfected” (103).

As I alluded to above, Calvin certainly understood regeneration to signify more than an aspect of the ordo salutis.  For him, it incorporated many aspects of the whole Christian life (Institutes, III.iii.9).  Hodge remarked that “Calvin gives the term its widest scope” (Systematic Theology, 3.3).  Calvin affirms that the Spirit makes alive what was once dead: “[The Spirit] regenerates us and makes us to be new creatures” (Institutes, II.ii.27).  But he was not content with such a narrow view of the doctrine.  Before Polanus, Calvin argues that regeneration is akin to sanctification insofar as “it is a renewal of the divine image in us” (III.xvii.5).

There is also a good deal of evidence that the early English Puritans had a very elastic view of regeneration.  Perkins, for example, understood John 3:5 to incorporate sanctification (Foundation of Christian Religion, 278).

Maccovius spends a good deal of time on regeneration in his work on theological and philosophical distinctions and rules.  He does not abandon Calvin’s use of the term, but he makes finer distinctions relative to the Remonstrant and counter-Remonstrant debates.  For example, Maccovius writes:

Regeneratio aliter se habet ratione primi moment, aliter ratione progressus (In respect of its first moment regeneration comes about in another way than in respect of its progression).  Ratione primi moment homo se habet mere passive, ratione progressus cooperatur cum Deo (Regarding the first moment of regeneration man is purely passive; regarding its progression man cooperates with God).

Elsewhere he argues:

Regenerationis gradus dantur in hac vita, non tatntum in se, verum etiam in subjectis (In this life regeneration is by degrees: these degrees do not only concern regeneration by itself but also the subjects).  Magis regignitur unus quam alter, hinc magis adulti quam infantes (Some people are more regenerate than others; hence older prople are more regenerated than the young ones).

Notice, then, that Maccovius uses, like Calvin and Polanus, the term “regeneration” to include what we now call sanctification.  Incidentally, Maccovius viewed Paul as “regenerate” in Romans 7.  Indeed, he had to since the turning point for Arminius, I believe, was when he began his lectures in Romans 7 and decided that Romans 7 described Paul in his unconverted state.  Many think Arminius went wrong at Romans 9 – he did, of course – but his problem started earlier!

* On Maccovius’ distinctiones see “Scholastic Discourse” (Instituut voor Reformatieonderzoek), pp. 239ff.

I suppose I’m one of those Presbyterians who believe that salvation is more than justification.  Just as I affirm that we are justified through faith alone, I also affirm that we cannot enter heaven unless we are also sanctified (i.e. made holy).  In other words, moral renovation is necessary!  This may sound to some like Shepherdism, but I think such language sounds more like the majority of our Reformed orthodox forefathers.

Geerhardus Vos has noted that Reformed theologians have, unlike the Lutherans, included evangelical/new obedience as a condition of the covenant of grace because salvation is broader than justification (see “Doctrine of Covenant … p. 234, note 1).  John Owen, for example, argued that faith and new obedience are conditions of the new covenant.  Francis Turretin suggests that “there is not the same relation of justification and of the covenant through all things. To the former, faith alone concurs, but to the observance of the latter other virtues also are required besides faith” (Inst. II.189).  I would commend to you reading Turretin’s argument (17^th Topics) on the question whether good works are necessary for salvation, a question that he affirms.

Consider “A New Confession of Faith”, written after the Westminster Confession of Faith, which was penned by both Congregationalists and Presbyterians in 1654.  Authors included Thomas Goodwin, John Owen, Philip Nye, Sydrach Simpson, Richard Vines, and Thomas Manton.  The language of the Confession on the need for godliness is striking:

XII. All true believers are partakers of Iesus Christ and all his benefits freely by grace, and are justified by faith in him, and not by works, he being made of God righteousness unto us.

XIII. That no man can be saved unlesse he be born again of the holy Spirit, Repent, Believe, and walk in holy conversation and godliness.

XIV. That whosoever do not prize and love Iesus Christ above himself, and all other things, cannot be saved.

XV. Whosoever allows himself to live in any known sin, upon any pretence or principle whatsoever, is in a state of damnation.

They certainly do not deny sola fide; but, importantly, they also maintain that holiness is a necessary component of the Christian life; and they language they use is rather strong.

The famous English theologian, John Ball, makes a similar statement regarding the necessity of good works: “In the Covenant of Nature obedience and workes were commanded as the cause of life and justification: in the Covenant of Grace, Faith is required as the instrumental cause of Remission and Salvation, obedience as the qualification of the party justified, and the way leading to everlasting blessedness” (Covenant of Grace, p. 26).

Robert Shaw, in his commentary on the Westminster Confession of Faith, writes similarly: “Good works are essentially prerequisite to an admission into heaven. Though they do not merit everlasting life, yet they are indispensably necessary in all who are ‘heirs of the grace of life.’” (this can be found in the chapter on “good works”).

The Bible is pretty clear on this: “For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live” (Rom. 8:13).  Christ died to make us holy (2 Peter 2:24), which is a blessing since without holiness no one will see God (Heb. 12:14).

We don’t need to mess around with justification to talk about the necessity of holiness.  The doctrine of sanctification will look after that just fine.   Let’s be clear, good works are not necessary for justification, but they are for salvation.  I think the Puritans had such a robust doctrine of sanctification because they believed, like Sinclair Ferguson and Richard Gaffin, that both justification and sanctification were benefits of being brought into union with Christ.  There may be a logical order, but one is as necessary as the other.

Because of the above, not a few people accuse the Puritans of being moralists.  This is regrettable, principally because there were Puritans who were antinomians and there were Puritans who vigorously opposed antinomianism.  As I’ve argued before, theologically speaking, the term Puritanism is as problematic as it is helpful.  But it is even more regrettable that the accusation is completely unfounded.  When people accuse the Puritans of being moralists we might ask them who they are talking about and what they mean by “moralism”.

It seems to me that the Apostle Paul would have preached on justification in such a way that he would have been called an antinomian.  But that same Apostle also wrote Romans 8:13!  He evidently saw no tension with the doctrine of justification when he said that you must put to death your sinful nature if you are to live, and I hope we don’t, either.