Standing in Grace
Jonathan Edwards
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Edwards most oft-referenced work on grace begins in a somewhat rambling and confusing fashion. Edwards muses on grace and how it connects to–later concluding that it in fact primarily is–the Spirit of God in the believer. The first 10 pages are loaded with some conflated terms: grace and the Spirit, grace and love, grace and graces, etc. Edwards doesn’t lay out as clear a case as he does in many of his other writings for these conflations, and I believe that weakens the first section of this book.
However, reading on bears tremendous reward. The second section lays out Edwards’ theology of the Spirit and the workings of grace in the believer in a clear, systematic fashion. He defines this grace as “special or saving grace” and delves into exactly what is nature (natural) and what is spirit (spiritual). Repeated readings are rewarded here; the language is typically Edwards: confusing at time, always wordy, and somewhat repetitive. However, Edwards frequently refers to Scripture and identifies the Spirit of God as grace and in fact the source of all other graces, such as hope, patience, and so forth.

It’s the third and final section that is superb, though. Edwards considers the Spirit as equivalent to divine love. This stems initially from a close reading of love (sometimes “charity”) in 1 Corinthians and its equivalence with Spirit in parallel passages and arguments from Paul. Edwards goes on, though: through careful Scriptural comparison, he argues that the Spirit is actually the Person embodying the love of the Father for the Son, and the love of the Son for the Father.

The revelation here is an elevation of the Spirit to a vital part of the Gospel and in fact to Christ’s self-sacrifice. No longer is the Spirit merely the product of that sacrifice; instead, the Spirit is the love Christ demonstrated on the cross toward His Father, and His Father’s love toward Jesus. The Spirit then becomes a vital part of the believer’s life as it allows the believer to partake of that divine love and therefore love and Father and Son properly.

This isn’t a better-known work of Edwards. It’s in fact not that easy to find. However, it’s excellent, and as for pneumatology, required reading.

On Revival
Jonathan Edwards
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Jonathan Edwards stands as a giant in Christian literature and history. Particularly among the Reformed Christian camp, he is mentioned in the same breath as Calvin and Luther. Fortunately, he wrote often, and there are no translation barriers to make his works less accessible in English.

On Revival is a collection of three works: “A Narrative of Surprising Conversions,” “The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God,” and “An Account of the Revival of Religion in Northampton 1740-1742.” The first and last are letters; the middle is a treatise or long sermon (if by long you accept 75 pages!).

Edwards systematically details the amazing movement of the Spirit of God in Boston and on the east coast, focusing particularly on the years 1732 and following (in “Narrative”) and 1740-1742 (in the piece by the same name). In one sense, then, these are historical accounts, with Edwards serving as narrator, highlighting the movement of God among people he pastored and walked with daily.

More importantly, though, this is Edwards work on what revival meant to him, practically and especially theologically. He spends great time in “Marks” detailing not just what marks a revival, but what does <i>not</i> disqualify a revival from being true. In other words, he deals with diversities of how the Spirit of God moves; over-zealousness toward the lost; fear of hell; and errors in doctrine; and insists that all are not on their own enough to say, “Such-and-such is not really experiencing a revival.”

These works are immensely helpful in, first, illuminating what revival looked like 300 years ago; and second, detailing the various workings of the Holy Spirit throughout history apart from the works recorded in Scripture during apostolic times. You get a sense of Edwards’ being a continuist rather than a cessationist, at least to some degree; as well as his view on fear of hell being a useful device in moving a man or woman toward heaven.

The only drawback with this work is that, by the time you’re finished, you’re going to get some repetitive sections. 160 pages on revival, in three different works, can be at time a bit mono-themed. The repetition is good and profitable, and serves to reinforce Edwards points. However, there are definitely times when you’ll need to focus to not drift over a paragraph or two that are substantially the same as you’ve already read.

Sacred Marriage
Gary Thomas
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“Sacred Marriage” continues to be my go-to book on marriage (which by definition for me could be restated as “Christian marriage”). This is my third reading, and I still find myself underlining passages, “hmm”-ing out loud, and learning. Thomas treats marriage as a vehicle for relating ourselves toward God and sanctification rather than an end unto itself. That along makes the book unique and profound.

The subtitle explains the premise of the book: “What if God designed marriage to make us holy more than to make us happy?” This question is one that is explored on every page of every chapter. Thomas’ concept is simply stated, albeit hard to live: is the end of marriage personal happiness, or sanctification? It’s obvious that Thomas believes the end of marriage is indeed personal sanctification, and Scripture would bear out his conclusions.

Because of this unusual premise, the chapters in the book are not what you might expect. Each chapter deals with one area of personal holiness that marriage deals with: truth about God, good prayer, building character, serving, and so forth. In other words, you won’t find the typical chapters on “finances,” “in-laws,” “sex,” and so forth. That sort of inward focus–how can this or that area of marriage be improved–goes against the very nature of what Thomas writes: God is most glorified not when a marriage is pleasing to those involved, but when those involved are focused on Christ, rather than themselves or even each other.

As much as the book is excellent, though, it needs some complementing. Because of the Godward-focus, there are areas that married coupled should investigate, in light of a God-glorifying lens. Sexuality must be examined, probably in greater light than does Thomas. The same is certainly true for gender roles and headship. This is not an end-all resource, but it doesn’t seem to attempt that goal. It does purport to be a central guide and correction for marriages that are focused on satisfaction in self and each other, though, and that is much needed.

If you believe Scripture to be true, you really have no good excuse for not purchasing this book. It bears repeated readings, and will challenge your ideas about marriage many times over.

Reforming Marriage
Douglas Wilson
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I picked this book up as potential supplemental reading to another marriage book I’m using for some counseling, Sacred Marriage by Gary Thomas. Douglas Wilson is a well-known reformed author, and I knew I wouldn’t get “5 steps to happiness” or “7 tips for great loving.”

While I continue to think that this is best as a supplemental book, it is good material. Wilson ruthlessly insists that the husband is to worship God, not his marriage; and to head his household with respect, humility, and responsibility. I appreciate both of these views, as I believe they are most consistent with Scripture.

The book is fairly short; 144 pages. That makes it a quick read. In particular, the chapters on “Headship and Authority,” “Keeping Short Accounts,” and the section on Nice-Guy Syndrome in “Miscellaneous Temptations” are excellent.

For the lengths, the quality of content within that short length, and the readability, this is an easy recommendation. I continue to believe that, of what I’ve read, Sacred Marriage is the most thorough primer for marriage. This is a great text to add to that one, though.

He Restores My Soul
Jennifer Kennedy Dean
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I recently heard an interview between Mark Dever and Matt Chandler in which Chandler mentioned he often read “spiritual roughage”. I took that to mean that Chandler (and Dever, who assented to reading the same sort of material) often read books that had a high ratio of garbage-to-sound-theology. There are all sorts of benefits, too long to list here. Suffice it to say, though, all of those benefits were reaped with a reading of Jennifer Dean’s He Restores My Soul.

Intended as a devotional book, Dean provides an introductory section, a lengthy set of devotions arranged around a 40-day “journey” toward personal renewal, and a final section on organizing a retreat. Unfortunately, I spent as much time sorting out the theological problems and confusing non sequiturs as I did thinking and meditating on God.

Dean’s consistent use of New Age terminology and style detracts from her central message. Dean insists that her message is not a New Age approach to spirituality in her introductory section (page 8), but her language is more often rooted in modern spirituality than orthodox Biblical terminology. She speaks of the Christian’s “spirit-core” (26), repeatedly calls for “centering prayer” (26, 29, et. al.), appeals for the believer to “surrender to brokenness” (30), and much of her review is centered on the Christian’s own definitions of and feelings about spiritual power, brokenness, and crucifixion moments (42-43). Dean could make her points far more effectively by limiting herself to Biblical words such as “spirit,” “soul,” “repentance,” and “sinfulness,” and use Scripture to define terms rather than asking the reader to assess his own definitions and feelings.

Despite this misuse of language, Dean does consistently drive home the Scriptural truth that God Himself must create the new heart: “He inscribed His desires and thoughts on your new heart. He will cleanse your heart and keep it clean” (57). Further, she moves to a more actionable set of meditations, an aspect of her devotions lacking in the first week. On page 54, she asks the Christian to evaluate: “How is He doing His cleansing work? How is he purging His people from… sin?” She then answers immediately, attributing God’s working out of sin to “the blood of the Son.” This re-emphasis not just on Christ but on His effective work is both convicting and encouraging.

Most concerning, much of the devotional material is wrought with subtle theological error. From the first devotion of week 3, Dean relates that God’s engineering of salvation is “for the purpose of filling [the Christian] with Himself” (68). Yet God says in Isaiah 6 that the train of His robe fills the temple. It is instead the <i>Holy Spirit</i> that fills the believer (2 Tim. 1:14). God fills us with joy and peace (Rom. 15:13), but never inhabits or indwells us; that is not His role within the Trinity as revealed in Scripture. Dean often is casual with interchanging God the Father, Spirit, and Son, and this fosters a loose theology that ultimately is incorrect and misleading. On page 69, she says “…the Spirit of God is removing all unrighteousness and all flesh to make room for the presence of the Lord in your heart. He must be your heart’s only inhabitant.” Here, the Spirit makes room for the Lord, although it is the Spirit that indwells. Further, both of these confuse her earlier statement, which stated it is God that fills the believer with Himself.

Further, there is a conflation between the filling of the Spirit and the indwelling of the Spirit. Scripture does indicate that the believer is indwelled by the Spirit, but that it is also appropriate to pray for a full measure of the Spirit, or a filling of the Spirit (Acts 4:8; Eph. 5:18). However, Dean indicates that God (or the Spirit, or the Lord) “will not share His dwelling place. He will inhabit it alone” (69). The implication clearly made by Dean is that the Spirit will not indwell the believer until sin is removed. This is Scripturally false, and leaves the believer with no recourse for the sealing of their heart in God’s sight (2 Cor. 1:22; Eph. 1:13; 4:30).

The core of Dean’s message remains helpful and at least loosely tied to Biblical principles. Throughout the book, though, her tendency to play loose with theology, conflate the distinct persons of the Trinity, and not explain concepts fully weakens her message. Ultimately, only her theme of brokenness consistently shines through other issues within the book.

Evangelism and the Sovereignty of God
J. I. Packer
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Packer is well-known for his impeccable theology, and for condensing and explaining that theology in concise ways. This little work, Evangelism and the Sovereignty of God, is no exception. Packer tackles the seeming contradiction–what Packer rightly and clearly defines as an antimony–between God’s total rule over all things and man’s responsibility to evangelize. In short, Packer seeks to biblically answer the question, “Why should a Christian evangelize if God is going to save who he is going to save?”

Packer tackles the subject systematically. First, he treats God’s sovereignty, both logically and scripturally. This section is a delight, as it has a, “You already believe in this, you act in this, you just don’t want to admit it,” sort of feeling. Packer cleverly points out that every Christian praying for God to intervene in the lives, events, and occurrences of people and the world are in fact admitting God is sovereign. Every Christian who would plead with God, “Save my unbelieving mother!” in fact announces–whether they have come to terms with this or not–that God is in fact sovereign over salvation. Otherwise, why pray such a prayer?

Packer then goes on to deal with evangelism. This requires a short treatment of the gospel, always enjoyable in Packer’s Scriptural, clever, and brief style. Packer points out the various mechanisms that have taken over a straightforward presentation of the gospel, deals with the crutch of “evangelistic services and sermons,” and dispels myths about what “works” and what doesn’t. In the middle of this section is one of the book’s most effective lines:

If “evangelistic” sermons/meetings are thought of as special occasions, it is a damning indictment of our normal services.Finally, Packer engages the core material: the relationship between sovereignty and evangelism.

This section is quite short, as his foundation has been built well. Packer argues, again, logically and Scripturally. His thesis: not only does sovereignty remain comfortable with evangelism, it actually expands the scope (through requiring prayer to a sovereign God) and the impetus (God’s rule commands evangelism through the preaching of the gospel) of evangelism.

The only drawbacks to this book are its brevity in certain areas, and the kind words Packer has for subjects which he clearly feels less than kindly about. While his charity is appreciated, there are sections that might benefit from a nameless treatment of some of the furthest stretchings of evangelism, and how those stretchings might be brought back in line with Scriptural practices.

Finally, this is a work of theology, but it is largely a primer on both sovereignty and evangelism. If you are looking for a full treatment of either doctrine, this book will whet your appetite, but not fill you.

God is the Gospel
Dr. John Piper
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I should start by saying that I find John Piper best live or on video. There’s something about seeing him, animated and moving, that makes him both (1) easier to understand, and (2) more enjoyable. In fact, full disclosure, I find that he can be a bit repetitive for my tastes in print. Then again, he’s unpacking these massive, earth-shattering, mind-altering truths that bear repeating, so it’s hard to blame his style or repetition. He’s most likely erring on the side of people hearing him, rather than skimming by, and that’s a good side on which to err.

All that out of the way, God is the Gospel is a fantastic book. I’d say it might best be suited as an early read or even an introduction to Piper. He lays out much of his basic theology, and you can then move to Desiring God or The Pleasures of God easily, two of Piper’s real masterworks. God is the Gospel is shorter (about 175 pages) and about half of the chapters are easy to get through.

The other half of the chapters, though, are meaty and worth serious meditation and contemplation. Piper’s basic thesis is that the gospel is not in fact just the means by which we are saved from hell, saved to heaven, gain eternal life, gain the Holy Spirit, etc. Rather, the gospel is the good news by which we may spend eternity getting God–spending time with Him, enjoying Him, worshiping Him, engaging with Him, being like Him, etc. This might seem pedestrian, until you think on it carefully. Even Protestant, conservative Evangelicalism rarely teaches this, and certainly not so plainly.

The church today is largely about the benefits of the gospel: all the things you get with a so-called profession of faith. How do we talk to children about God? Avoid hell; get to heaven. But this is not the gospel, Piper argues from Scripture; rather, the gospel is getting to God. God is the gospel.

You’ll have to think to digest this, and if you can read this entire book without ever being challenged, then I’d daresay you’ve not read it well. Wonderful, well-documented with Scripture and quotations from giants like Edwards, Owen, and Warfield, and passionate; you won’t regret this read.

Savor God and enjoy Him: this is Piper’s message.