Medicine and the "whole man"

Being the substance of an address given at the Annual Breakfast of the CMF, during the BMA Annual Meeting, Brighton, 12 July 1956.

A new phrase has become increasingly common in current medical literature. We are reminded that we must no longer think in the old departmental terms, but that we must more and more learn to treat 'the whole man'. Yet this phrase may mean little or it may mean much. It depends upon its context and the occasion on which it is used. In the majority of instances, however, one fears that it is just one more expression of that loose and sentimental thinking, which has become so characteristic of the present time.

We are all familiar with the prevailing vagueness and looseness of speech. There will be no need for illustration. It is simply the outcome of those fashions in education and those subtle changes which, in the interests of self-expression, have allowed many young people to grow up with no feeling for accurate definition nor appreciation of sound principle. Whilst there may be a credit side to this, in that some of the older dogmatic instruction allowed little room for self-expression, many would contend that the gains have been at too great a cost. So much so that wherever we look in Church or State we find vague sentimental thinking which would have appalled our forefathers. Consider for instance the correspondence in the daily newspapers at the height of the discussions concerning the abolition of capital punishment. For every letter which sought in a judicial manner to weigh up the facts and to consider the great principles which are involved in such a decision, there were numbers of others which, no matter how attractively they were expressed, consisted in little more than emotion or prejudice on one side or the other. In all aspects of our national life we need to rediscover the sound guiding lines which were widely followed in the greatest hours of our history. In spite of all the achievements of painstaking research and new treatments, Medicine itself stands equally in need of a reconsideration of its first principles.

The whole man

Let us look, for example, at this phrase 'the whole man'. How are we to define it? What do we mean by the word 'whole'? The department of psychosomatic medicine has popularised the phrase, but it has not adequately described it. Originally, at least, the phrase 'the whole man' appears to have been introduced from Christian sources and notably from the literature of medical missions. But here again there does not seem to have been adequate thought given to the implications of the phrase nor to the alteration of meaning which occurred as soon as it was removed from its original setting. As soon as we look into the matter, the first surprise which must come to all of us is the realisation of the ease with which we accept such phrases and build upon them, imagining that both we and those to whom we speak know precisely what is meant. In what follows, I wish to call for closer scrutiny of this phrase. I would also seriously suggest that, of all available sources, we have the best definition of it in the Christian Gospels. Our Lord is constantly described as making those who came to him 'perfectly whole' and the contexts in which such facts are recorded suggest that the statements were more than justified.

Perhaps the best account of this matter is found in Luke 17:12-19 (KJV).

'And as he entered into a certain village, there met him ten men that were lepers, which stood afar off: And they lifted up their voices, and said, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us. And when he saw them, he said unto them, Go shew yourselves unto the priests. And it came to pass, that, as they went, they were cleansed. And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God, And fell down on his face at his feet, giving him thanks: and he was a Samaritan. And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger. And he said unto him, Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole.'

Let us proceed at once to the important point of the statement. Ten men were cured of their leprosy, but only one of them turned back, recognising the divine source of the healing powers, and gave thanks to the Benefactor. There is more than an element of irony in the two asides - 'and he was a Samaritan' … 'save this stranger'. That is, the grateful patient was a foreigner, deriving from a race which was despised and disliked by the Jews. It is only this single sufferer that our Lord declares to have been made 'whole'. A distinction is made between the nine and the one. It is true to what the Bible means when it speaks of a man as having been made 'whole'.

Psycho-somatic medicine

I do not overlook the fact that through numerous articles in the Medical Journals, the Profession as a whole has been made aware of much that it overlooked during the course of the development of scientific research and its application in various forms of modern treatment. Though there may still be, in some branches of Medicine, workers who are hidebound in their departmentalisms, and their materialist philosophies, there are few who have not given some thought to the claims of psycho-somatic medicine. Most doctors, however little they may adjust themselves practically to it, make theoretical allowances for the subjective, psychological and the spiritual in treating their patients. Yet it would be premature to be too optimistic. For occasional stories from the out-patients' departments and, also, the wards of well-known hospitals, make it clear how easy it is for all of us to use appropriate phrases and neglect their obvious implications. The busy practitioner has scarcely been more than mildly interested, though in his case there are compensating factors. Fortunately, long experience of contact with suffering, interest in persons as persons, and the frequent necessity to take into consideration the situation of the whole family - all unconsciously predispose to an adoption of the psycho-somatic approach.

Yet when all is said and done, is psychosomatic medicine itself a fully adequate response to what is basically required? Is it not itself another of those partial views which have been made to do duty for the whole? Is its application greatly in advance of the other attitudes which have done duty during the development of anthropology? Again and again definitions of the nature of man have been given, which on further examination prove to be too narrowly based. The Communist, for example, controlled by his philosophy of dialectical materialism, reduces man to a pawn of economics and politics. Other types of philosophy have isolated him as a piece of pure intellect, with the addition of a comforting doctrine that all he needs in order to emerge from his predicament is more and more education. Coming nearer home, the biologist concentrates on man's structure, abilities, movements, ductless glands and the functional balance of forces which enables the living organism to carry out an ordered existence. Even Medicine itself is guilty of a very partial view. For over a hundred years morbid pathology has tended to dominate the picture, and whilst normal physiology has done something to redress the balance, yet in general the abnormal has come to distort the perspective. So now it is the turn of the advocates of the psycho-somatic. 'Yes', they say, 'it is true that we have erred. We must cease to regard a patient as one who must be investigated like a biological specimen. We must take a bigger view. We must - in addition to our doctors and nurses - have cohorts of therapists trained in every form of assistance. We must treat the whole man.'

But, even here again, are they not already tending to slip into the same error of falling short in their concept of man? When they have taken account, and rightly so, of all the subjective factors which may influence the condition of the patient, his psychology and the environment in which he lives his life, is not their view still too limited?

It cannot be emphasised too much that every view of man which omits from its consideration such a major factor as man's relationship with God, is doomed to partial measures. It can never fully and finally solve the crucial problem which lies at the root of humanity's unrest and 'dis-ease'. There is a major element in the very nature of man, which can be catered for in one way, and only in one way. As Augustine said: 'Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in Thee.' In other words, we can add together all the partial views which have ever been held and still not get a true picture of man, if this basic fact be overlooked. The truth is that man was originally made in the image of God. He is not a mere animal. He reflects the nature of the Eternal Being. He possesses self-consciousness and the power of self-criticism. His aspirations are in the last analysis not directed towards this world, but towards the world to come. Something within man continually calls for what is bigger and beyond himself. He was made for companionship with God and he cannot function properly until he is in true correspondence with his Maker.

the scope of medical practice

It therefore follows, if what we have so far said is true, that we must ask: Can Medicine in itself deal with the whole man? Can it as such, and by itself, ever do so? In any case, is it within the province of Medicine to attempt such a thing? Is Medicine able to function so as to ensure that mankind will function harmoniously in society? Is it able to reduce to order all those things which interfere with, and vitiate man's life? Surely, the practice of Medicine was never intended nor equipped for such a function. Nor was it designed to uncover and to treat the evils gnawing at the heart of mankind. It cannot satisfy deep aspirations of the individual which are due to his very make-up and are accentuated by his estrangement from his Maker. Psychotherapy is no final answer. It may do much to help in restoring normal function to the mechanisms of the mind, but it cannot impart that positive addition for which each person's heart craves. Yet, without taking into consideration, and dealing with, such ultimate facts of human need, how can Medicine possibly talk of treating 'the whole man'?

I must here enter a strong caveat. Much loose thinking has come in at this point. I would without apology venture to make the blunt assertion that Christianity, and Christianity alone, can deal with 'the whole man'. By definition, it alone is capable of undertaking such a task. Medicine is in its right place when it sets out to deal with the body and the mind. But it is the task of religion - of the Christian religion - to deal with 'the whole man'.

There are two processes at work today in the borderlands between Medicine and the Church. They are both clearly illustrated in St. Luke's description of our Lord's healing of the lepers. Let us notice carefully the difference between the nine who failed to return thanks and the one who did so return. There was a vital difference in their whole outlook and attitude to the body-mind relationship. The group of nine patients were only interested in getting rid of the disease and its manifestations. Because of its signs on their bodies they had been ostracised and segregated from their people. As the record says: 'they stood afar off' If they had done anything else than this they would have been severely punished. They longed - naturally they would do so, as any of us would - to be cured and to be able to go back into society. But their interest stopped at that point. They were only interested in getting rid of the symptoms and signs, so that they could return to their ordinary life and routine. They revealed no sign of wanting to be 'made whole'. On the other hand, the one who returned 'praised God with a loud voice' and the Master declared that this man's faith had made him 'whole'. In this particular case the man had not only lost the signs and symptoms of the serious disease that had been holding him in its grip, he had come into a new and right relationship with his Maker. Of him it could now be truly said that he was made 'whole'.

Much of what one hears at the present time of certain 'Faith Healing' movements illustrates the same two processes. The doctors of today are praised for their very wonderful discoveries and procedures. These have made an incredible difference in modern life and to the outlook of many who in past centuries would have suffered increasing disabilities or a slow decline to a fatal termination of their condition. But there are still numerous things, which the doctors cannot manage. 'Let us', many say, 'go to the Church and let us get as many people to pray for us as possible in the hope that somehow we shall be healed' But both patients and Church continually forget the parable. These patients will go to God - they will go anywhere in their anxiety as soon as possible to get rid of their diseases. But most of them, at least, do not seem to be in search of 'wholeness' - i.e. in our Lord's meaning of the term. Their main anxiety is to get rid of their symptoms, signs of disease, and their immediate disabilities, so that they can speedily take their place again in society.

The place of Christianity

This matter of getting rid of symptoms, however, must never be mistaken for Christianity's essential function. Many members of the Medical Profession today, whatever lip service they may pay to it, simply regard Christianity as another speciality or another 'therapy'. When confronted with a particularly serious case with a bad prognosis, they will try all the therapies, radiotherapy, physiotherapy, psychotherapy and, when these have all failed, at last they will say: 'Ah, yes, it is really serious and beyond any help we can give - let us send him to the Church and see what that department can do.' But we must protest. Christianity is not just one extra, and final, link in a long chain of healing methods. It is not a branch of Medicine. It never can be!

There is today a great deal of confusion at this point. There is with many an understandable (and, when it is rightly understood, commendable) desire for the closest co-operation between the profession which is responsible for caring for the body and that which is responsible for caring for the soul. Co-operation, if it is on the right basis of understanding and relative functioning of the partners in the enterprise, is, of course, valuable. If, however, the problem of a man's illness is to be undertaken in co-operation, then it will not do for the Church to be regarded simply as a department of Medicine. It is tempting to add at this point that it is certainly not for Medicine to take over the Church, but rather for the Church to take over Medicine! The Church certainly cannot function simply as a branch of Medicine. It must not come to be used simply as a means of getting rid of the more troublesome symptoms of mankind's divided heart and only that. Its essential value may thus be missed.

The Church, also, is able to help Medicine by fostering in its doctors, nurses and all concerned in treating disease some of the most needed virtues, e.g. kindliness, patience, selfsacrificing service and much else. But when all such by-products have been supplied to Medicine, we shall still not have arrived at treating 'the whole man'. In fact, if the Church were to be prepared to let it go at that, it might be very misleading to the patient. It is dangerous to eliminate symptoms before the diagnosis has been assured. It is these symptoms which call attention to the presence and nature of the disease. Diagnosis becomes increasingly difficult if the symptoms are palliated too soon. The Christian Faith must not allow itself to be used as a mere palliative. It may otherwise hide from the patient his real condition and prevent his arriving at a deeper understanding of his ultimate need.

There can be no real wholeness, until each patient has come to a state comparable to that of the one leper who returned to our Lord. 'He glorified God with a loud voice'; i.e. he really meant all he said. He fell at Christ's feet in adoration. He was both physically cured and spiritually restored. He was at last a whole man. He had been reconciled to God through our Lord Jesus Christ and had at last found peace. No man, by his very nature, can be finally satisfied, until God fills his heart.

A final consideration

There is one further consideration; and we must not overlook or evade it. A man cannot with real composure face death and eternity apart from consciousness of reconciliation with his Maker. We all need peace with God. We are getting older. Some of the colleagues whom I see here today are those whom in earlier years I taught in our Medical School. Speaking for myself, I can only face God in Jesus Christ, by spiritually dying and rising again in him, by being reconciled through him, and by living day by day in him. It is from him that I hear the liberating words: 'Thy faith hath made thee whole.' It is this spiritual element which ultimately matters to us. This goes on into eternity and, in Christ, I am ready for eternity.

Christian Doctors, there is only one way in which we can really make men whole! Modern Medicine has gained much for mankind and it may yet gain much more. But, when it has done its utmost, it can only prolong man's life for a few more years. It cannot do more than repair a man's mind and body. It has to leave him there. It has nothing to say to the most vital element in man's nature. At this point Christianity alone can step in. When it does so, however, it can impart to the man something of incomparable worth. But before any of us can share it with others, we must become Christians ourselves. Every doctor needs himself first to go to Christ. Then, with confidence, he can become a servant of the Lord of the New Testament who went about making men whole.

D Martyn Lloyd-Jones (1899-1991)

What is revival?

We can define it as a period of unusual blessing and activity in the life of the Christian Church. Revival means awakening, stimulating the life, bringing it to the surface again. It happens primarily in the Church of God, and amongst believing people, and it is only secondly something that affects those that are outside also. Now this is a most important point, because this definition helps us to differentiate, once and for all, between a revival and an evangelistic campaign.

An evangelistic campaign is the Church deciding to do something with respect to those who are outside. A revival is not the Church deciding to do something and doing it. It is something that is done to the Church, something that happens to the Church.

So then, what is it that happens? The best way of answering that question is to say that it is in a sense a repetition of the day of Pentecost. It is something happening to the Church, that inevitably and almost instinctively makes one look back and think again of what happened on the day of Pentecost as recorded in Acts 2.

The essence of a revival is that the Holy Spirit comes down upon a number of people together, upon a whole church, upon a number of churches, districts, or perhaps a whole country. That is what is meant by revival. It is, if you like, a visitation of the Holy Spirit, or another term that has often been used is this--an outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

What the people are conscious of is that it is as if something has suddenly come down upon them. The Spirit of God has descended into their midst, God has come down and is amongst them. A baptism, an outpouring, a visitation. And the effect of that is that they immediately become aware of His presence and of His power in a manner that they have never known before.

I am talking about Christian people, about church members gathered together as they have done so many times before. Suddenly they are aware of His presence, they are aware of the majesty and the awe of God. The Holy Spirit literally seems to be presiding over the meeting and taking charge of it, and manifesting His power and guiding them, and leading them, and directing them. That is the essence of revival.

And what does that mean? Well, there are general characteristics which you will find in every revival that you can ever read about. The immediate effect is that the people present begin to have an awareness of spiritual things such as they have never had before.

They have heard all these things before, they may have heard them a thousand times, but what they testify is this: "You know, the whole thing suddenly became clear to me. I was suddenly illuminated, things that I was so familiar with stood out in letters of gold, as it were. I understood. I saw it all in a way that I had never done in the whole of my life." The Holy Spirit enlightens the mind and the understanding. They begin not only to see these things clearly but to feel their power.

What are these things of which they become so aware? First and foremost, the glory and the holiness of God. Have you ever noticed, as you read your Bibles, the effect on these people as they suddenly realized the presence of God? Like Job, they put their hands on their mouths or like Isaiah they say, "Woe is unto me! For I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips." They have just had a realization of the holiness and of the majesty and the glory of God. That always happens in a revival.

There can be a lot of laughing and lightness, and obvious organization in evangelistic campaigns. Not so in a revival, but rather awe, reverence, holy fear, the consciousness of God in His majesty, His glory, His holiness, His utter purity.

(Extract from lectures on Revival 1959)

Lloyd-Jones on Romanism

A sermon from 1963 has often been reproduced in different forms. It can be found here.

Tract The Message of the Bible

See more here

We are all aware of problems in this world. Everyone knows what it is to be weary, to be disappointed, and to struggle. And we have a feeling that we were not meant for this. We are all searching for some solution to the problems of life.

The question is, why are you unhappy? Why

do things go wrong? Why is there illness and sickness? Why should there be death? Those are the questions with which the Bible deals.

The Bible talks to you about your unhappiness. Some insist that the Bible, far from being practical, is really very remote from life. But nothing in the world is as practical as the teaching of the Bible.

In order to answer questions about you, the Bible starts in the most extraordinary way: 

"In the beginning God..."

It starts with God. Before I begin to ask any questions about myself and my problems, I ought to ask questions like this: Where did the world come from? Where have I come from? What is life itself?

You come to me and say, “I’m unhappy. I’m in

a crisis. What’s the matter with me?” And the Bible says, “In the beginning God . . .” as if it has forgotten all about you. But it has not! The only way to understand yourself or your life is to start with God. And right at the very beginning, the Bible takes us there.

The Bible also tells us that the world came into being because the eternal God made it. It tells us that God is the Creator, that he made everything out of nothing, by his own power, and he made it perfect.

What’s more, according to the Bible, man is a special creation of God. The Bible tells us, “God created man in his own image” (Genesis 1:27). It does not say that about anything else, only about human beings. Man was made by God, for God. He spoke to God, walked with God, and enjoyed God. And his life was one of perfect bliss.

But into this perfect world made by God there entered another power, another force. Something came that was opposed to God and opposed to man, and it was bent upon one thing only— wrecking God’s perfect work. The Bible tells us that the Devil entered into this world, and by tempting the man and the woman, whom God had made, brought to pass everything bad that you and I know.

Why are there jealousy and envy and misunderstanding? Why lust and passion? Why are homes and marriages broken? Why do little children suffer? Why all the agony and the pain of life?

It is because there is this other power in the world that has dragged man down. That is the biblical explanation. You will find it in the Bible from beginning to end. And if that is true, how hopelessly and utterly inadequate are all the remedies that are being offered apart from the Bible. What’s more, the Bible tells us that as the result of that original sin, all of us are in the grip of this evil power.

Man, as the result of all this, is quite helpless; he has brought a curse upon himself and cannot escape it. He would like to, but he cannot. Man has been trying to get back into Eden ever since he went out of it. That is the whole history of civilization. That is the whole meaning of philosophy and all political thought and all the blueprints of utopias at all times and in all places—man trying to get back into paradise.

But it is worse than merely not being in paradise. Man is under the judgment of God. He thought that he could forget God and that there would be no risk involved. He did not realize that the law of God is absolute. Both man as an individual and the whole world, according to the Bible, are under the judgment of God. You see, in the garden Adam and Eve thought they could eat the forbidden fruit and all would be well. Then they heard the voice of the Lord God, and they cowered and were frightened. Judgment had come, and they were thrust out.

But, thank God, he intervenes! God, even at the moment of rebellion, tells man that he has a way to rescue him and to redeem him: “It [the seed of the woman] shall bruise thy [the serpent’s] head” (Genesis 3:15). The serpent can only be mastered by one, and he has come—the seed of the woman, Jesus of Nazareth. 

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

JOHN 3:16 

Christ, the Son of God, came into this world, took on our human nature, entered into our very situation, and defeated our enemy. He received judgment for us on the cross. God dealt with him there and pardons us, and our enemy is conquered. So the way to paradise is open, and it is open for you.

All your problems, all your needs, arise from the fact of sin. That is the cause of all ill. And there is but one solution to the problem, the solution that God himself has provided in the person of his Son. “. . . that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” And that life begins here and now—a knowledge of God, assurance that you are right with God, that he will take you through death and announce in the judgment that you are already pardoned and forgiven.

My dear friend, that is your problem, and that is the answer to your problem. Believe it. Accept it here and now. Go to that great God. Acknowledge your sinning against him, and thank him for his eternal love in sending his Son to rescue you and to redeem you by dying for you, and ask him to give you new life. And he will. I say that on the authority of Jesus who stated, “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out” ( John 6:37).

1939 Review of D R Davies's On to orthodoxy

On Onto orthodoxy by D R Davies in The Christian World October 12, 1939
The Story of a Spiritual Pilgrimage

If ever a book was written to meet a precise historical situation, surely this book was written for the hour in which we live. As the author tells us, it is is a sense a product of the times through which we have been passing. But it s not merely timely in that sense, but in the deeper and more vital sense that it is a prophetic message, a positive contribution to an understanding of the present and a preparation for the future. It is not that it has anything new to say, or that it is the first of  a series. It is in line, in general, with what has been written by Barth, Brunner, Niebuhr and others. But nevertheless there is that quality about it which makes it not only distinctive, but quite unique. Mr Davies does not merely repeat what he has read, or re-state the opinions and convictions of others. What he has written he has discovered and thought through for himself. As I read it, Onto orthodoxy constantly reminded me of Rosalind Murray's The failure of a good pagan the common feature being that both are written on the basis of personal experience and are avowedly personal confessions.

There is nothing doctrinaire or detached in the outlook of the book.  It is intensely practical and vital; indeed, exciting. With the thoroughness of  a true zealot, Mr Davies has invariably practised what he preached.  He has staked his all on what he believed, and has suffered the consequences.  His book therefore is an intensely human record, and when he writes with passion and with heat, one feels that he is entitled to do so.  From his early days as a boy in South Wales, through to the period of his days as a working miner, and afterwards a student in college, and an ordained minister, to his subsequent experiences as a freelance journalist, life has been to him a fight and a struggle.  And yet there is no bitterness here.  The whole background of the book is stated perfectly in the following passage, which is also a good example of his virile, pungent style.

In journeying from Pacifism to Marxism, I may claim that I have fairly boxed the compass of modernist navigation. To change the figure, I have explored most of the areas of Humanism and Modernism. I have travelled the world in order to reach next door. It is true no doubt that I would have saved much time, and avoided much complication and acute suffering, if I had gone straight next door. But, in that case, the thought of what I would have missed oppresses me. I have journeyed the desert stretches of Christian Liberalism; I have trudged along the Arctic wastes of Pacifism, where everything was simple and remote - oh! so remote! Everything just plain white or black. I saw men as figures walking. ... I have groped my painful way in the caverns of psycho-analysis. I have known even the despair of atheism. And I have been under the thrall of Marxism. From every one of these explorations I gained something I am certain I would never have won if I had been a good boy and stayed at home. For good or ill, my wondering has been the world, not the back garden.

That being the story the author tells us what he thinks now of the various places he has visited in his pilgrimage. It is difficult to think of anything more devastating on the subject of Christian Liberalism and Humanism than what we find here; and in like manner with the social gospel of which he was ever a fervent advocate and preacher.

From what I have said it will now be plain that I regard preaching the gospel of the forgivene of sin as the distinctive, unique and certainly most important tasl of the Church. Whatever she does in the way of social services constitutes no substitute. However many cheap meals she provides for the unemployed; however many billiard-tables and tennis clubs she gives to young people; however many psychological clinics, even, she opens - all these are worse than useless without preaching.Though she gives her body to be burned and reach not of sin, and of man's powerlessness and of the grace of God, it shall profit her nothing

He insists that the message of the gospel is primarily and most essentially personal, that nations cannot be convicted of sin, and that "committees and classes cannot repent". As negative apologetic and preparation for the gospel I have rarely if ever read anything stronger or more convincing. The utter futility of all that has so often passed as gospel during the past hundred years is made terribly and tragically clear. Surely this is what is needed above all else at the present time. And especially, first and foremost, in the Churches. That complacent optimistic view of man and his nature that has so long controlled and directed thought and preaching must be given up, and must be replaced by the tragic view which is taught everywhere in the Bible. Those who are still uncertain of that can do nothing better than study the arguments presented so cogently in this book.

So much for the negative aspect of the case. What of the positive? Mr Davies chooses as his title On to orthodoxy and in his conclusion he says "I shall have every sympathy with the reader who feels that my recovery of orthodoxy is incomplete". As a reader who belongs to that class I may be permitted a few observations. I am not concerned to point out how, in his view of the Bible, his attitude towards the proof of the facts of the Resurrection, his interpretation of the judgement of God and his teaching of the larger hope, Mr Davies deviates, and at times seriously, from traditional Protestant orthodoxy. For there is something else which is still more important. The great central and all important question for both Protestant and Roman Catholic orthodoxy has always been how should a man be right with God? The saints were not concerned primarily about their incapacity to "create a just society" but about themselves and their utter hopelessness and helplessness face to face with God. And at that point their primary problem was not as to how they could overcome and conquer the power of sin but how o be delivered from the guilt of sin and its penalty. In a most significant passage Mr Davies says:

In the logical order of my recovery of orthodoxy, it was the problem of eschatology that that raised anew for me the whole question of the being and character of God. The reader, especially if he is a theologian, may argue that I ought to have begun with God. The fact is I didn't. I began with Europe and the world of political, economic and social events.

That statement, perhaps more perfectly than any other, states the essence of the difference between the new orthodoxy of Mr Davies and the school to which he belongs and traditional Protestant orthodoxy. The latter does not arrive at God as the only ultimate solution to the problem of society; it starts with God because its whole experience is that it cannot escape from God. The man has been apprehended by God, chased by "the hound of heaven" and is incapable of fleeing from His presence much as he has tried to do so. His crisis is not intellectual and philosophical, primarily, but spiritual and moral. Neo-orthodoxy does not count all its former achievements and experiences as "but dung and loss," it cannot say that "old things are passed away, behold all things are become new!. He does not believe in Revelation but decides rather on the basis of his own reasoning and understanding to adopt certain biblical ideas. In spite of itself, it is still tied to this terrible situation, and for that reason tends to forget the power and the activity of the Holy Spirit in the Church. Mr Davies suggests that the modern preacher knows too little about modern man and his problems. I would suggest that the trouble rather is ignorance of the power of God, especially in our own lives

I have, I trust, stimulated all who are concerned deeply about the Church in the world today to read this moving, challenging, thought-provoking book.

(For more on D R Davies see here)

Lloyd-Jones on Karl Barth

In December 1968 following Barth's death this article by the Doctor appeared in the newly founded Evangelical Times, under the editorship of Peter Masters. 

THE PASSING of Dr Karl Barth at the age of 82 is an event that calls for comment.

As a man, there is only one adjective to apply to him and that is ‘great’. Everything about him was big. He clearly had a first-class intellect. Nothing else could account for his acute criticism of various theological outlooks and his own massive Church Dogmatics. He was said by those who knew him to be a ‘great character’. But his greatness was seen supremely in his heroic stand against Hitler and Nazism as expressed in the Barmen Declarations which led to his expulsion from Germany.

There is no question also but that he stood out above all others as a theological giant in this century. No name has been quoted more freely not only in Protestant circles but also among Roman Catholics.

He first became known in the early twenties and in this country in 1927 with the publication of a translation of one of his books under the title of The Word of God and the Word of Man. This was followed in a few years by the English translation of the second edition of his commentary on the Epistle to the Romans. Others followed in rapid succession such as Credo and then his great work on dogmatics in many volumes.

The great question is – What has all this meant from the evangelical standpoint? The answer is quite simple – practically nothing! At first many evangelicals of reformed persuasion felt that Barth was a great new ally. His attacks on Liberalism and Modernism were devastating, and he appeared to be reasserting the old Calvinistic position. But alas, it was only a matter of appearance.

To start with he accepted a radical criticism of the Bible, particularly the Old Testament. His view of revelation was clearly not that of the Reformers. He denied propositional revelation, and his view of the historicity of the foundational facts of the Christian faith expressed itself in his strange division of history into ‘holy’ and ‘secular’.

‘By their fruits ye shall know them’ and when this canon of judgement is applied to Barth and his works it is clear that the result has been entirely negative from the evangelical standpoint.

Though his works and influence have been in existence for 50 years, he has brought no revival to the church. This is not surprising as his approach, in spite of his denials, is essentially philosophical. His style was involved and difficult and while for a time he produced a crop of intellectual preachers, who were always preaching about ‘the Word’, it soon became clear that they were not preaching the Word itself.

By now his influence from the continent has been eclipsed by that of more radical thinkers.

Barth never had much influence in England, his whole approach being alien to the English type of thinking. In Scotland he had a much greater following and succeeded in turning into Barthians a number of younger men who had been prominent in evangelical circles. His keenest students at the present time seem to be Roman Catholic theologians, especially those of the liberal school that is accepting more and more the Higher Critical view of the Bible, and is at the same time anxious to interpret the pronouncements of the Council of Trent in a Protestant direction. It may well be that his greatest achievement will be to provide a bridge between a modified (but not truly reformed) Roman Catholicism and a degenerate Protestantism, which often does not know what it believes.

As a negative critic of the old Modernism he was superb, but because he tried to bend the Scriptures and their message to his philosophical system and failed to become ‘a fool for Christ’s sake’ in the Pauline sense, and to submit himself to that ‘simplicity which is in Christ Jesus’, his positive contribution to the cause of the Gospel was virtually nil. It is because of this that his name should never be coupled with those of Luther and Calvin. What a difference there is between causing a stir, or even a flutter, in the theological dovecotes, and being used of God to produce a reformation and a re-awakening!

All honour to a great man . . . but!

Lloyd-Jones on the Altar Call

According to an article on the Banner website here early in the 1970s Dr Martyn Lloyd-Jones was the speaker at a ministers’ conference in the USA and at a question session was asked the following question and gave the answer given:

Q During recent years, especially in England, among evangelicals of the Reformed faith, there has been a rising criticism of the invitation system as used by Billy Graham and others. Does Scripture justify the use of such public invitations or not?

A. Well, it is difficult to answer this in a brief compass without being misunderstood. Let me answer it like this: The history of this invitation system is one with which you people ought to be more familiar than anyone else, because it began in America. It began in the 1820s; the real originator of it was Charles G. Finney. It led to a great controversy. Asahel Nettleton, a great Calvinist and successful evangelist, never issued an "altar call" nor asked people to come to the "anxious seat." These new methods in the 182Os and were condemned for many reasons by all who took the Reformed position. One reason is that there is no evidence that this was done in New Testament times, because then they trusted to the power of the Spirit. Peter preaching on the Day of Pentecost under the power of the Spirit, for instance, had no need to call people forward in decision because, as you remember, the people were so moved and affected by the power of the Word and Spirit that they actually interrupted the preacher, crying out, "Men and brethren, what shall we do?" That has been the traditional Reformed attitude towards this particular matter. The moment you begin to introduce this other element, you are bringing a psychological element. The invitation should be in the message. We believe the Spirit applies the message, so we trust in the power of the Spirit. I personally agree with what has been said in the question. I have never called people forward at the end for this reason; there is a grave danger of people coming forward before they are ready to come forward. We do believe in the work of the Spirit, that He convicts and converts, and He will do His work. There is a danger in bringing people to a "birth," as it were, before they are ready for it. The Puritans in particular were afraid of what they would call "a temporary faith" or "a false profession." There was a great Puritan, Thomas Shepard, who published a famous series of sermons on The Ten Virgins. The great point of that book was to deal with this problem of a false profession. The foolish virgins thought they were all right. This is a very great danger. I can sum it up by putting it like this: I feel that this pressure which is put upon people to come forward in decision ultimately is due to a lack of faith in the work and operation of the Holy Spirit. We are to preach the Word, and if we do it properly, there will be a call to a decision that comes in the message, and then we leave it to the Spirit to act upon people. And of course He does. Some may come immediately at the close of the service to see the minister. I think there should always be an indication that the minister will be glad to see anybody who wants to put questions to him or wants further help. But that is a very different thing from putting pressure upon people to come forward. I feel it is wrong to put pressure directly on the will. The order in Scripture seems to be this – the truth is presented to the mind, which moves the heart, and that in turn moves the will.