Spurgeon's OTHER archive #1

From time to time, as time permits, I hope to include sermons on here, in the order in which they were preached, that haven't yet found their way on to Phil Johnson's famous 'Spurgeon Archives' site.  Here's the first - it will be found in Volume 6 of Spurgeon's sermons. Further editing will follow.

THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER

NO. 308

DELIVERED ON SABBATH MORNING, APRIL 15TH, 1860,

BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON,

BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON, AT EXETER HALL, STRAND.

THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER — “And when much people were gathered together, and were come to him out of every city, he spake by a parable: a sower went out to sow his seed: and as he sowed, some fell by the way side; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it. And some fell upon a rock; and as

soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it. And other fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bare fruit an hundredfold. And when he had said these things, he cried, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.” —

Luke 8:4-8

IN OUR country, when a sower goes forth to his work, he generally enters into an enclosed field, and scatters the seed from his basket along every ridge and furrow; but in the East, the corn-growing country, hard by a

small town, is usually an open area. It is divided into different properties, but there are no visible divisions, except the ancient landmarks, or perhaps ridges of stones. Through these open lands there are footpaths, the most frequented being called the highways. You must not imagine these highways to be like our macadamized roads; they are merely paths, trodden tolerably hard. Here and there you notice bye-ways, along which travelers who wish to avoid the public road may journey with a little more safety when the main road is infested with robbers: hasty travelers also strike out short cuts for themselves, and so open fresh tracks for others. When the sower goes forth to sow he finds a plot of round scratched over with the primitive Eastern plough; he aims at scattering his seed there most plentifully; but a path runs through the center of his field, and unless he is willing to leave a broad headland, he must throw a handful upon it. Yonder, a rock crops out in the midst of the ploughed land, and the seed falls on its shallow soil. Here is a corner full of the roots of nettles and thistles, and he flings a little here; the corn and the nettles come up together, and the thorns being the stronger soon choke the seed, so that it brings forth no fruit unto perfection. The recollection that the Bible was written in the East, and that its metaphors and allusions must be explained to us by Eastern travelers, will often help us to understand a passage far better than if we think of English customs.

The preacher of the gospel is like the sower. He does not make his seed; it is given him by his divine Master. No man could create the smallest grain that ever grew upon the earth, much less the celestial seed of eternal life. The minister goes to his Master in secret, and asks him to teach him his gospel, and thus he fills his basket with the good seed of the kingdom. He then goes forth in his Master’s name and scatters precious truth. If he knew where the best soil was to be found, perhaps he might limit himself to that which had been prepared by the plough of conviction; but not knowing men’s hearts, it is his business to preach the gospel to every creature — to throw a handful on the hardened heart, and another on the mind which is overgrown with the cares and pleasures of the world. He has to leave the seed in the care of the Lord who gave it to him, for he is not responsible for the harvest, he is only accountable for the care and industry with which he does his work. If no single ear should ever make glad the reaper, the sower will be rewarded by His Master if he had planted the right seed with careful hand. If it were not for this fact with what despairing agony should we utter the cry of Esaias, “Who hath believed our report? And to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?” Our duty is not measured by the character of our hearers, but by the command of our God. We are bound to preach

the gospel, whether men will hear, or whether they will forbear. It is ours to sow beside all waters. Let men’s hearts be what they may the minister must preach the gospel to them; he must sow the seed on the rock as well as in the furrow, on the highway as well as in the ploughed field. I shall now address myself to the four classes of hearers mentioned in our Lord’s parable. We have, first of all, those who are represented by the way-side, those who are “hearers only”; then those represented by the stony-ground; these are transiently impressed, but the word produces no lasting fruit; then, those among thorns, on whom a good impression is produced, but the cares of this life, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the pleasures of the world choke the seed; and lastly, that small class — God be pleased to multiply it exceedingly — that small class of good-ground hearers, in whom the Word brings forth abundant fruit.

I. First of all, I address myself to those hearts which are like the WAY-SIDE

— “Some fell by the wayside; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it.” Many of you do not go to the place of worship desiring a blessing. You do not intend to worship God, or to be affected by

anything that you hear. You are like the highway, which was never intended to be a cornfield. If a single grain of truth should fall into your heart and grow it would be as great a wonder as for corn to grow up in the street. If the seed shall be dexterously scattered, some of it will fall upon you, and rest for a while upon your  thoughts. ‘Tis true you will not understand it; but, nevertheless, if it be placed before you in an interesting style, you will talk about it till some more congenial entertainment shall attract you. Even this slender benefit is brief, for in a little season you will forget all that you have heard. Would to God we could hope that our words would tarry with you, but we cannot hope it, for the soil of your heart is so hard beaten by continual traffic, that there is no hope of the seed finding a living root-hold. Satan is constantly passing over your heart with

his company of blasphemies, lusts, lies, and vanities. The chariots of pride roll along it, and the feet of greedy mammon tread it till it is hard as adamant. Alas! For the good seed, it finds not a moment’s respite; crowds

pass and repass; in fact, your soul is an exchange, across which continually hurry the busy feet of those who make merchandise of the souls of men. 

You are buying and selling, but you little think that you are selling the truth, and that you are buying your soul’s destruction. You have no time, you say, to think of religion. No, the road of your heart is such a crowded

thoroughfare, that there is no room for the wheat to spring up. If it did begin to germinate, some rough foot would crush the green blade ere it could come to perfection. The seed has occasionally lain long enough to

begin to sprout, but just then a new place of amusement has been opened, and you have entered there, and as with an iron heel, the germ of life that was in the seed was crushed out. Corn could not grow in Cornhill or

Cheapside, however excellent the seed might be: your heart is just like those crowded thoroughfares; for so many cares and sins throng it, and so many proud, vain, evil, rebellious thoughts against God pass through it,

that the seed of truth cannot grow. We have looked at this hard road-side, let us now describe what becomes of the good word, when it falls upon such a heart. It would have grown if it had fallen on right soil, but it has

dropped into the wrong place, and it remains as dry as when it fell from the sower’s hand. The word of the gospel lies upon the surface of such a heart, but never enters it. Like the snow, which sometimes falls upon our streets, drops upon the wet pavement, melts, and is gone at once, so is it with this man. The word has not time to quicken in his soul: it lies there an instant, but it never strikes root, or takes the slightest effect. Why do men come to hear if the word never enters their hearts? That has often puzzled us. Some hearers would not be absent on the Sunday on any account; they are delighted to come up with us to worship, but yet the tear never trickles down their cheek, their soul never mounts up to heaven on the wings of praise, nor do they truly join in our confessions of sin. They do not think of the wrath to come, nor of the future state of their souls. Their heart is as iron; the minister might as well speak to a heap of stones as preach to them. What brings these senseless sinners here? Surely we are as hopeful of converting lions and leopards as these untamed, insensible hearts. Oh feeling! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason! Do these people come to our assemblies because it is respectable to attend a place of worship? Or is it that their coming helps to make them comfortable in their sins? If they stopped away conscience would prick them; but they come hither that they may flatter themselves with the notion that they are religious. Oh! My hearers, your case is one that might make an angel weep! How sad to have the sun of the gospel shining on your faces, and yet to have blind eyes that never see the light. The music of heaven is lost upon you, for you have no ears to hear. You can catch the turn of a phrase, you can appreciate the poetry of an illustration, but the hidden meaning, the divine life you do not perceive. You sit at the marriage-feast, but you eat not of the dainties; the bells of heaven ring with joy over ransomed spirits, but you live unransomed, without God, and without Christ. Though we plead with you, and pray for you, and weep over you, you still remain as hardened, as careless, and as thoughtless as ever you were. May God have mercy on you, and break up your hard hearts, that his word may abide in you. 

We have not, however, completed the picture. The passage tells us that the fowls of the air devoured the seed. Is there here a way-side hearer? Perhaps he did not mean to hear this sermon, and when he has heard it he will be asked by one of the wicked to come into company. He will go with the tempter, and the good seed will be devoured by the fowls of the air. Plenty of evil ones are ready to take away the gospel from the heart. The devil himself, that prince of the air, is eager  at any time to snatch away a good thought. And then the devil is not alone — he has legions of helpers. He can set a man’s wife, children, friends, enemies, customers, or creditors, to eat up the good seed, and they will do it effectually. Oh, sorrow upon sorrow, that heavenly seed should become devil’s meat; that God’s corn should feed foul birds! O my hearers, if you have heard the gospel from your youth, what wagon-loads of sermons have been wasted on you! In your younger days, you heard old Dr. So-and-so, and the dear old man was wont to pray for his hearers till his eyes were red with tears! Do you recollect those many Sundays when you said to yourself, “Let me go to my chamber and fall on my knees and pray”? But you did not: the fowls of the air ate up the seed, and you went on to sin as you had sinned before. Since then, by some strange impulse, you are very rarely absent from God’s house; but now the seed of the gospel falls into your soul as if it dropped upon an iron floor, and nothing comes of it. The law may be thundered at you; you do not sneer at it, but it never affects you. Jesus Christ may be lifted up; his dear wounds may be exhibited; his streaming blood may flow before your very eyes, and you may be bidden

with all earnestness to look to him and live; but it is as if one should sow the sea-shore. 

What shall I do for you? Shall I stand here and rain tears upon this hard highway? Alas! My tears will not break it up; it is trodden too hard for that. Shall I bring the gospel plough? Alas! The ploughshare will not enter ground so solid. What shall we do? O God, thou knowest how to melt the hardest heart with the precious blood of Jesus. Do it now, we beseech thee, and thus magnify thy grace, by causing the good seed to live, and to produce a heavenly harvest.

II. I shall now turn to the second class of hearers:

 — “And some fell upon a ROCK; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture.” 

You can easily picture to yourselves that piece of rock in the midst of the field thinly veiled with soil; and of course the seed falls there as it does everywhere else. It springs up, it hastens to grow, it withers, it dies. None but those who love the souls of men can tell what hopes, what joys, and what bitter disappointments these stony places have caused us. We have a class of hearers whose hearts are hard, and yet they are apparently the softest and most impressible of men. While other men see nothing in the sermon, these men weep. Whether you preach the terrors of the law or the love of Calvary, they are alike stirred in their souls, and the liveliest impressions are apparently produced. Such may be listening now. They have resolved, but they have procrastinated. They are not the sturdy enemies of God who clothe themselves in steel, but they seem to bare their breasts, and lay them open to the minister. Rejoiced in heart, we shoot our arrows there, and they appear to penetrate; but, alas, a secret armour blunts every dart, and no wound is felt. The parable speaks of this character thus — “Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth.” Or as another passage explains it: “And these are they likewise which are sown on stony ground; who, when they have heard the word, immediately receive it with gladness; and have no root in themselves, and so endure but for a time: afterward, when affliction or persecution ariseth for the word’s sake, immediately they are offended.” 

Have we not thousands of hearers who receive the word with joy? They have no deep convictions, but they leap into Christ on a sudden, and profess an instantaneous faith in him, and that faith has all the appearance of being genuine. When we look at it, the seed has really sprouted. There is a kind of life in it, there is apparently a green blade. We thank God that a sinner is brought back, a soul is born to God. But our joy is premature: they sprang up on a sudden, and received the word with joy, because they had no depth of earth, and the self-same cause which hastened their reception of the seed also causes them, when the sun is risen with his fervent heat, to wither away. These men we see every day in the week. They come to join the church; they tell us a story of how they heard us preach on such-and-such an occasion, and, oh, the word was so blessed to them, they never felt so happy in their lives! “Oh sir, I thought I must leap from my seat when I heard about a precious Christ, and I believed on him there and then; I am sure I did.” We question them as to whether they were ever convinced of sin. They think they were; but one thing they know, they feel a great pleasure in religion. We put it to them, “Do you think you will hold on?” They are confident that they shall. They hate the things they once loved, they are sure they do. Everything has become new to them. And all this is on a sudden. We enquire when the good work began. We find it began when it ended, that is to say, there was no previous work, no ploughing of the soil, but on a sudden they sprang from death to life, as if a field should

be covered with wheat by magic. Perhaps we receive them into the church; but in a week or two they are not so regular as they used to be. We gently reprove them, and they explain that they meet with such opposition in

religion, that they are obliged to yield a little. Another month and we lose them altogether. The reason is that they have been laughed at or exposed to a little opposition, and they have gone back. And what, think you, are the feelings of the minister? He is like the husbandman, who sees his field all green and flourishing, but at night a frost nips every shoot, and his hoped-for gains are gone. The minister goes to his chamber, and casts

himself on his face before God, and cries, “I have been deceived; my converts are fickle, their religion has withered as the green herb.” In the ancient story Orpheus is said to have had such skill upon the lyre, that he

made the oaks and stones to dance around him. It is a poetical fiction, and yet hath it sometimes happened to the minister, that not only have the godly rejoiced, but men, like oaks and stones, have danced from their

places. Alas! They have been oaks and stones still. Hushed is the lyre. The oak returns to its rooting-place, and the stone casts itself heavily to the earth. The sinner, who, like Saul, was among the prophets, goes back to plan mischief against the Most High. If it is bad to be a wayside hearer, I cannot think it is much better to be like the rock. This second class of hearers certainly gives us more joy than the first. A certain company always comes round a new minister; and I have often thought it is an act of God’s kindness that he allows these people to gather at the first, while the minister is young, and has but few to stand by him: these persons are easily moved, and if the minister preaches earnestly they feel it, and they love him, and rally round him, much to his comfort. But time, that proves all things, proves them. They seemed to be made of true metal; but when they are put into the fire to be tested, they are consumed in the furnace. Some of the shallow kind are here now. I have looked at you when I have been preaching, and I have often thought, “That man one of these days will come out from the world, I am sure he will.” I have thanked God for him. Alas, he is the same as ever. Years and years have we sowed him in vain, and it is to be feared it will be so to the end, for he is without depth, and without the moisture of the Spirit. Shall it be so? Must I stand over the mouth of your open sepulcher, and thin, “Here lies a shoot which never became an ear, a man in whom grace struggled but never reigned, who gave some hopeful spasms of life and then subsided into eternal death”? God save you! Oh! May the Spirit deal with you effectually, and may you, even you, yet bring forth fruit unto God, that Jesus may have a reward for his sufferings.

III. I shall briefly treat of the third class, 

and may the Spirit of God assist me to deal faithfully with you.

 “And some fell among THORNS; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it.” Now, this was good soil. The two first characters were bad: the wayside was not the proper place, the rock was not a congenial  situation for the growth of any plant; but this is good soil, for it grows thorns. Wherever a thistle will spring up and flourish, there would wheat flourish too. This was fat, fertile soil; it was no marvel therefore that the husbandman dealt largely there, and threw handful after handful upon that corner of the field. See how happy he is when in a month or two he visits the spot. The seed has sprung up. True, there’s a suspicious little plant down there of about the same size as the wheat. “Oh!” he thinks, “that’s not much, the corn will out-grow that. When it is stronger it will choke these few thistles that have unfortunately mixed with it.” 

Ay, Mr. Husbandman, you do not understand the force of evil, or you would not thus dream! He comes again, and the seed has grown, there is even the corn in the ear; but the thistles, the thorns, and the briars have

become intertwisted with one another, and the poor wheat can hardly get a ray of sunshine. It is so choked with thorns every way, that it looks quite yellow: the plant is starved. Still it perseveres in growing, and it does seem as if it would bring forth a little fruit. Alas, it never comes to anything. With it the reaper never fills his arm. We have this class very largely among us. These hear the word and understand what they hear. They take the truth home; they think it over; they even go the length of making a profession of religion. The wheat seems to spring and ear; it will soon come to perfection. Be in no hurry, these men and women have a great

deal to see after; they have the cares of a large concern; their establishment employs so many hundred hands; do not be deceived as to their godliness — they have no time for it. They will tell you that they must live; that they cannot neglect this world; that they must anyhow look out for the present, and as for the future, they will render it all due attention by-and-by. They continue to attend gospel-preaching, and the poor little stunted blade of religion keeps on growing after a fashion. Meanwhile they have grown rich, they come to the place of worship in a carriage, they have all that heart can wish. Ah! Now the seed will grow, will it not? No, no. They have no cares now; the shop is given up, they live in the country; they have not to ask, “Where shall the money come from to meet the next bill?” or “how shall they be able to provide for an increasing family.” Now they have too much instead of too little, for they have riches, and they are too wealthy to be gracious. 

“But,” says one, “they might spend their riches for God.” Certainly they might, but they do not, for riches are deceitful. They have to entertain much company, and chime in with the world, and so Christ and his church are left in the lurch. Yes, but they begin to spend their riches, and they have surely got over that difficulty, for they give largely to the cause of Christ, and they are munificent in charity; the little blade will grow, will it not? No, for now behold the thorns of pleasure. Their liberality to others involves liberality to themselves; their pleasures, amusements, and vanities choke the wheat of true religion: the good grains of gospel truth cannot grow because they have to attend that musical party, that ball, and that soiree, and so they cannot think of the things of God. I know several specimens of this class. I knew one, high in court circles, who has confessed to me that he wished he were poor, for then he might enter the kingdom of heaven. He has said to me, “Ah! Sir, these politics, these politics, I wish I were rid of them, they are eating the life out of my heart; I cannot serve God as I would.” I know of another, overloaded with riches, who has said to me, “Ah! Sir, it is an awful thing to be rich; one cannot keep close to the Saviour with all this earth about him.” Ah! My dear readers, I will not ask for you that God may lay you on a bed of sickness, that he may strip you of all your wealth, and bring you to beggary; but, oh, if he were to do it, and you were to save your souls, it would be the best bargain you could ever make. 

If those mighty ones who now complain that the thorns choke the seed could give up all their riches and pleasures, if they that fare sumptuously every day could take the place of Lazarus at the gate, it were a happy change for them if their souls might be saved. A man may be honorable and rich, and yet go to heaven; but it will be hard work, for “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven.” God does make some rich men enter the kingdom of heaven, but hard is their struggle. Steady, young man, steady! Hurry not to climb to wealth! It is a place where many heads are turned. Do not ask God to make you popular; they that have popularity are wearied by it. Cry with Agur — “Give me neither poverty nor riches.” God give me to tread the golden mean, and may I ever have in my heart

that good seed, which shall bring forth fruit a hundredfold to his own glory.

IV. I now close with the last character, namely, the GOOD GROUND. 

Of the good soil, as you will mark, we have but one in four. Will one in four of our hearers, with well-prepared heart, receive the Word? The ground is described as “good”: not that it was good by nature, but it had been made good by grace. God had ploughed it; he had stirred it up with the plough of conviction, and there it lay in ridge and furrow as it should lie. When the gospel was preached, the heart received it, for the man said, “That is just the blessing I want. Mercy is what a needy sinner requires.” So that the preaching of the gospel was THE thing to give comfort to this disturbed and ploughed soil. Down fell the seed to take good root. In some cases it produced fervency of love, largeness of heart, devotedness of purpose of a noble kind, like seed which produces a hundredfold. The man became a mighty servant for God, he spent himself and was spent. He took his place in the vanguard of Christ’s army, stood in the hottest of the battle, and did

deeds of daring which few could accomplish — the seed produced a hundredfold. It fell into another heart of like character; — the man could not do the most, but still he did much. He gave himself to God, and in his

business he had a word to say for his Lord; in his daily walk he quietly adorned the doctrine of God his Saviour, — he brought forth sixty-fold. 

Then it fell on another, whose abilities and talents were but small; he could not be a star, but he would be a glow-worm; he could not do as the greatest, but he was content to do something, however humble. The seed

had brought forth in him tenfold, perhaps twentyfold. How many are there of this sort here? Is there one who prays within himself, “God be merciful to me a sinner”? The seed has fallen in the right spot. Soul, thy prayer shall be heard. God never sets a man longing for mercy without intending to give it. 

Does another whisper, “Oh that I might be saved”? Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou, even thou, shalt be saved. Hast thou been the chief of sinners? Trust Christ, and thy enormous sins shall vanish as the

millstone sinks beneath the flood. 

Is there no one here that will trust the Saviour? Can it be possible that the Spirit is entirely absent? That he is not moving in one soul? Not begetting life in one spirit? We will pray that he may now descend, that the word may not be in vain.

Dissing Dispies?  #2: Hermeneutics

In my first look at Dan Phillips ‘Twenty-five stupid reasons for dissing dispensationalism’   I tried to show how Dan begins the process of softening us up to believe that Dispensationalists have got it right by using an ‘ad hominem’ argument: the Reformed, and especially one Reformed Great, have been really unkind to Dispensationalists in general and Dan in particular; have a look – I’m not going to repeat myself.

There’s a second preliminary Dan gives us before he gets to the 25 of the title – the question of hermeneutics.  ‘…when I consistently apply the hermeneutic that God used to save me, I end up Reformed… and dispensationalist.’

What’s hermeneutics?  It’s the science, or art, (it’s both) of interpreting the Biblical text.  But isn’t it obvious what a text means?  Well, yes – usually – hence Dan’s principle

When the plain sense of Scripture makes good sense, seek no other sense. Therefore, take every word in its primary, ordinary, usual, literal meaning, unless the facts of the immediate context, studied in the light of related passages and fundamental and axiomatic truths, clearly indicate otherwise.

 It’s called ‘grammatico-historical’ hermeneutics, or sometimes the historico-grammatical principle: you take into account the grammar, and the history.  In brief, a text means what it says, and especially what the first readers would have understand it to mean.

Dan’s right – it’s fundamental.  It saves us making blunders like Augustine’s, insisting that in the parable of the Good Samaritan, the two coins were the sacraments, the inn was the church, the inn-keeper the Pope, etcetera.  

But it’s also a bit more complicated than that – for a slavish adherence to h/g won’t save us from Origen’s misunderstanding of Matthew 19:12 – it won’t stop us castrating ourselves.  And some of us are really keen not to go that way...

Let me illustrate by taking the matter of prayer.  Jesus says

In that day you will no longer ask me anything. I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. (John 16.23)

The ‘historico’ bit would have us ask: when will this promise be kept?  And the immediate context tells us – when the disciples see Jesus again, after his death.  That is – when he is risen.  What does the plain meaning of the text (the grammatico bit) tell us?  That in that day, Christians can have absolutely anything they ask for – or at least, the apostles can.  Winning the lottery?  Perfect health?  Therein, you see, is the Prosperity Gospel.  Dan knows this, of course, and makes the point by saying ‘in the light of related passages and fundamental and axiomatic truths.’

Once we look at other things the Bible says about prayer, for example James 4.3

When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures...

…a restriction or qualification is there that isn’t in the first text.  So, to apply the h/g principle properly, the context of a text that has to be taken into account is the whole of Scripture.  And that, some of us think, is where dispies may be going wrong.

Dan – in another blog entry – references a speaker at this year's Shepherds' Conference  who said ‘you might be a dispensationalist if you think the primary meaning of an Old Testament text is found in the authorial intent of the OT writer as determined by historical-grammatical hermeneutics’.

True – but you might also be wrong.  Sometimes, at least, the true meaning of an Old Testament text is found in the New Testament.  Isaiah 7.14 springs to mind. 

It isn’t that our dispie friends aren’t aware of this – the same speaker says

You may believe that God, in the New Testament, may do more than what the OT author meant, or apply the OT passage in ways not seen by the OT author, but God will never do less or go contrary to the original meaning of the OT author. Thus, the meaning of OT passages is anchored in the OT passages themselves.

The question has to be:  is that the way the New Testament writers themselves see the Old Testament?  When the apostles on the Day of Pentecost are accused of drunkenness, they say ‘No, this is what was spoken of by the prophet Joel’ and goes on to quote Joel 2:28-32.  According to Peter, Joel is prophesying Pentecost – but it doesn’t look like that in its original context.  In fact, Joel prophesies (and Peter quotes) ‘The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood’ as part of the same prophecy.  ‘This is that’?  Yes: but we know – because Acts tells us – that it isn’t the end of the world.

Similarly, the true meaning of Amos 9:11,12 is not the restoration of Israel to its nation, says Acts: rather, it foretells the ingathering of the Gentiles in the gospel age (Acts 15:16ff)

Hermeneutics is a difficult issue.  But DJP simply isn’t fair when he implies – and even says – that dispies are the ones ‘who still take all of the Bible seriously’.  That ain’t the way it is, Dan.

Maestro

For more than 30 years this man has been my favourite violinist.  Here, he is playing Beethoven's 'Spring' Sonata.

An Apple a day...

For a little while now, I've been wanting an Apple.  


An applemac, perhaps

Or maybe an iPhone

or even an iPad

Now, at last, I've got a good reason.  I'd be supporting morality.  Steve Jobs, the CEO of Apple, has made it known that he intends to do all he can to keep porn off Apple products.  As a result, many magazine publishers developing 'apps' for the iPad are having to self-censor.

Not everybody's happy; some see it as a limitation to their freedom. (Jobs, according to them, is not allowed freedom to decide what can be shown on a product he's designed.  It's the usual liberal garbage: 'you must tolerate my perversions but I'd rather be damned than tolerate your standards'.)

But good ol' Steve has an answer for them: 'Yep, freedom from programs that steal your private data.  Freedom from programs that trash your battery. Freedom from porn.  Yep, freedom.'

He's even gone so far as to speak of his company's moral responsibility to keep porn off the iPhone.  Good on you, Steve - may God give you success.

Now, I'm just off to explain to Elaine why it's my Christian duty as a Pastor to buy as many Apple products as possible.  She'll probably think I mean cider...

Thanks to Mark Earley at Prison Fellowship/Breakpoint for this information)

Who are you guys?

The observant among you will have noticed that I've installed 'Clustrmaps' (see left sidebar) which tells me something about where my visitors visit from.  Apparently since I installed it I've had 298 visits (not many, eh?).  And they've come from the UK, the US, Singapore, Canada, Egypt et al. 


Great.  You're welcome.  Feel free to put a note in the comments just to say 'hi' will you?


And - tell your friends.  Let's see - just for fun - if I can get a thousand visitors in June, and twenty countries.

Monday, Music, Martha

From time to time I plan to post exceptional music.  This is the now world-famous Martha Argerich at, I think, the Chopin Piano Competition in 1965.  No surprise, she won it.

Newsround

David Laws

Inevitably, David Laws has been in the news a great deal.  Apparently, he paid £40000 of tax-payers' money to his partner, and it's against the rules.  Laws and his partner are gay, and he didn't want to 'blow his cover' by not claiming the rent back.  Hmm.  It came as no surprise that some politicians and media types immediately saw this as another sign of homophobia.  (Nonsense: if his partner had been female it would still have been against the rules, it would still have been theft and he would still have had to resign. )  It's no surprise that large parts of the chatterati think a completely different set of rules apply to homosexuals; they need to learn it isn't so.  Gays (at least some of them - see below) don't want the same rights as everyone else - they want more.  In particular, it seems, Laws didn't want his devout Catholic parents to know he was gay.  I'd guess they suspected!  But even if not, going into public life is not the way to keep anything secret.  Can you imagine what the uproar would have been if Laws had been - say - Evangelical?  And didn't want his devout Catholic parents to know?  And had pocketed £40000 to keep it from them?

What was a bit more of a surprise was that some of the gay community agreed, and said so (see here for an example).  They were shamed that Laws tried to use his sexuality to explain away his theft: rightly so. 

But what's truly appalling about this is that both Cameron and Clegg are reported as describing Laws as a man of 'complete integrity'.  Integrity means 'an integrated whole' - WYSIWIG (what you see is what you get).  It also means honest, moral, not deceitful.  'Uprightness, honesty, purity' (Chambers).  A man who's lying to his family about a fundamental part of his life is not 'an integrated whole'; he's not upright.  And a man who takes money he's not entitled to in order to keep that deceit going isn't 'upright, honest, pure'. 

But apparently Cameron and Clegg think otherwise.  So - if they're going to act with integrity - didn't we ought to ask what it is they mean by it?

             

Joan Bakewell

             

Dame Joan Bakewell is a 77  year-old journalist, former lover of Harold Pinter, once described as 'the thinking man's crumpet' and the lady who once told Lloyd-Jones that his views were old-fashioned.  She was also a vocal opponent of Mary Whitehouse, whose Christian convictions led her to head up a 'clean up tv' campaign in the sixties.  The Mail online reports:

     For decades the late Mrs Whitehouse was the self-appointed moral watchdog of Britain. She saw  television as the vanguard of the so-called 'permissive society' of the Sixties, bringing violence, sex and bad language into the living rooms of the nation.

    The puritanical campaigner warned of the de-sensitising effect of showing violence and gratuitous sex, saying it would create a more violent and sexualised society.

    But Dame Joan was part of the 1960s generation who thought the old guard were foolish prudes.

But now, in 'an astonishing u-turn' Dame Joan hates to admit it but now thinks Whitehouse was right.  Of course she was: and only time and eternity will show how many other things Christians have been right on.

And finally:

Fergie was drunk when she offered to sell access to Prince Andrew, she confessed in 'that interview' with Opray.  Oh, that's OK then - except that it isn't, surely?  Why should being guilty of two sins (mistakes, indiscretions, errors of judgement - whatever you want to call them) carry less disapproval than being guilty of just one?

The thought seems to be: well, you're not responsible for your behaviour when you're drunk.  Sorry - but yes, you are.  And you're responsible for getting drunk in the first place.

Do I sound a bit priggish today?  Sorry.  But...

Intellectual Laziness and the New Atheists

David Hart's article here is worth a read. Among other things,

I think I am very close to concluding that this whole “New Atheism” movement is only a passing fad—not the cultural watershed its purveyors imagine it to be, but simply one of those occasional and inexplicable marketing vogues that inevitably go the way of pet rocks, disco, prime-time soaps, and The Bridges of Madison County.

The principal source of my melancholy, however, is my firm conviction that today’s most obstreperous infidels lack the courage, moral intelligence, and thoughtfulness of their forefathers in faithlessness.


But all the evidence suggests that Dawkins has never understood the point being made, and it is his unfortunate habit contemptuously to dismiss as meaningless concepts whose meanings elude him. Frankly, going solely on the record of his published work, it would be rash to assume that Dawkins has ever learned how to reason his way to the end of a simple syllogism.

On matters of simple historical and textual fact, moreover, Hitchens’ book is so extraordinarily crowded with errors that one soon gives up counting them. Just to skim a few off the surface: He speaks of the ethos of Dietrich Bonhoeffer as “an admirable but nebulous humanism,” which is roughly on a par with saying that Gandhi was an apostle of the ruthless conquest and spoliation of weaker peoples. He conflates the histories of the first and fourth crusades. He repeats as fact the long discredited myth that Christians destroyed the works of Aristotle and Lucretius, or systematically burned the books of pagan antiquity, which is the very opposite of what did happen. He speaks of the traditional hostility of “religion” (whatever that may be) to medicine, despite the monastic origins of the modern hospital and the involvement of Christian missions in medical research and medical care from the fourth century to the present. He tells us that countless lives were lost in the early centuries of the Church over disputes regarding which gospels were legitimate (the actual number of lives lost is zero). He asserts that Myles Coverdale and John Wycliffe were burned alive at the stake, although both men died of natural causes. He knows that the last twelve verses of Mark 16 are a late addition to the text, but he imagines this means that the entire account of the Resurrection is as well. He informs us that it is well known that Augustine was fond of the myth of the Wandering Jew, though Augustine died eight centuries before the legend was invented. And so on and so on (and so on)... In the end, though, all of this might be tolerated if Hitchens’ book exhibited some rough semblance of a rational argument.


The article is well worth a read. So, I imagine, is the book, which 'tackles such contentious moments in history as Galileo's trial and the witch hunts, explaining history and faith without resorting to popular misinformation or rhetoric' (from a review on site).

Is the Reformation over?

A review in Evangelicals Now put me on to MIchael Reeves' book 'The Unquenchable Flame' - subtitled 'Introducing the Reformation.'

I haven't read it all yet, in spite of receiving it yesterday evening (I've been busy).  But I want to draw attention to it today because of its very helpful last chapter 'Is the Reformation over?' looking at issues raised by (among others) Noll and Nystrom, in their book of that title.

Noll and Nystrom argue that Rome and Evangelicals are now so close together that we may regard one another as fellow Christians - and that, in fact, we are close together on the issue of justification by faith. 

Reeves is able to show - in a non-technical way that even I could understand - that it is not so; the Joint Declaration of the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Foundation (1999) does not indicate much progress since the Regensburg Statement of 1541, which Luther dismissed as a messy patchwork of theologies.

Further, Reeves even manages to show why we are so ready, today, to believe that the disputes are over.  I'm not saying it's exhaustive - but it's a fine chapter and worth the cost of the whole book.

A dreadful slur...

In today's Daily Mail, Richard Littlejohn comments on the David Laws affair and says 'To be honest, I've always considered all Liberal MPs to be homosexuals unless furnished with concrete proof to the contrary,' and goes on toname names going back decades.

At least he didn't say 'I've always considered all gays to be Lib Dems unless furnished with concrete proof to the contrary.'  Now that would be a dreadful slur.

I'm sorry, but I don't understand... (#1)

So, Israel has been enforcing a blockade on Gaza for some years now.  Let's leave others to argue whether the blockade is legal, moral, or serving any purpose.  There it is.  And a number of (apparently) humanitarians  decide to breach it in six ships.

Now, what do those 'humanitarians' think Israel is going to do?  Stand aside and say 'Oh, well, if you insist'?  Of course not; they're going to enforce it.  So five of the six ships wisely turn aside into Ashdod to be searched by the Israelis.  One ship continues.

Now, what do those 'humanitarians' think Israel is going to do?  Stand aside and say, 'Oh, well, if you really insist'?  Of course not: they're going to enforce the blockade in the only way now open to them (short of sinking the ship) - they're going to board the ship.  And as they do so - as Israeli commandos descend onto the deck - they're attacked by the 'humanitarians' beneath them.  That's not propaganda - it can clearly be seen on video.

Now, what do those same 'humanitarians' think the commandos are going to do at this point?  Climb back off board and say 'Oh, well, we didn't know you felt that strongly about it!'?  Of course not; they're going to defend themselves.

And this is the Israelis, remember.  They're not famed for 'turning the other cheek'.  They're not famed for moderate responses.  They are famed for getting the job done.  So they defend themselves.  Tragically - but inevitably - a significant number of 'humanitarians' are killed or injured.

I don't understand: what did they expect?  Why is the world up in arms - which nation, enforcing a blockade, would allow it to be breached?  Or when its soldiers were attacked would expect them to curl up and die?

I'm sorry - I really don't understand.  Is 'humanitarian' a synonym for 'stupid'?  Or is Melanie Phillips right - that the whole thing was a terror ambush?

There are lots of things I don't understand...

Update

Oh, look; the video  'appears to contradict the protesters' claims that they offered no violence to the special forces soldiers as they stormed the boat.'  Yes, it does, doesn't it?

The World Cup is coming...

So here's a timely reminder from Piper.

Home again - naturally

And so on Monday 24th May, we flew home.  British Airways didn't co-operate; in spite of the fact that a strike by cabin crew began that day, our own flight left Zurich on time and arrived at Heathrow on time; we were given no excuse at all to say 'We'll just have to stay another week'.  And here we are.

Now, more is coming on dissing dispies - I hope to get to it this week.  Similarly, the photos - they're coming, too.  God willing.

Jungfrau - Wow!

OK; the risk paid off.  the morning dawned bright and fair and we were at Grindelwald station a little after nine.  This time, the train we took went not to Interlaken, but to Kleine Scheidegge; in itself, quite a journey.
The first stop was 'Grund', only a couple of minutes from Grindlewald; it's here the train begins its astonishingly steep journey up the cogged track (pictures will follow, honest) that we can see from the chalet.

There are a couple of request stops before KS, but there were no requests, no stops.  At KS we change trains - there's a good restaurant there so (no surprises) we stayed for a coffee and let the first train go.  Then, up through a tunnel carved in the Eiger ('the train-ride... leads through the Eiger North Face'); there are a couple of 5-minute stops just to get out and admire the scenery from the viewing platforms ('fascinating views of Grindelwald and the Eismeer' - pictures to come) and then, suddenly, there we are on 'top of the world, looking down (echo: 'down') on creation and' - cue the Carpenters.



Well, it's not actually the top of the world - but they bill it as the 'Top of Europe' - the highest railway station (3454 metres above sea-level) in Europe. 

We'd been told what to expect: the reality took our breath away.  What do you think we did first, O gentle reader?  Right - coffee at the coffee bar.  Surely the most amazing coffee bar in Switzerland.  Panoramic views of snow and mountains and snow and mountains and... wow.

Next, the viewing platform, and out into the cold and snow.  Lots of people here today (it was Saturday, after all), most of them Orientals, it seemed.  A small group asked if I'd use their camera to take their pictures together - of course I would.  Then, as we walked away, they called us back - now they wanted photos of us.  (Of course they did.)  So a pretty Korean (I think) girl linked arms with us, we smiled, cameras clicked, and we parted.

But what views!  And only ropes to prevent us taking the ultimate slide.  There were very clear notices - in English, oddly - 'DO NOT GO BEYOND THE ROPES'.  But one small group had ignored it and were about 100 metres away (see how continental I'm getting?  That's about 108 yards...) and were obviously planning to throw themselves off the edge.  We didn't see them do it, but (since they'd gone a few minutes later) they plainly did.  I half-wished I could have gone with them.  (Did I mention they were paragliders?  Fear not, good friends.)

Well, we thought that must be the climax, but we spotted signs to another viewing platform called 'The Sphinx', one that needed us to take a lift.  (Elevator, if you're reading in America.  In the UK, elevators are shoes for very small people.)  In we went; up we went.  Never have we been in a lift that moved so quick. (Fortunately, we came back down in the same lift to find my stomach was still there waiting for me.)  This viewing platform was so far above the earlier one that the people there looked like insects.  On a clear day, apparently, you can see France and Germany - but who'd want to?  We didn't look.  Well, not for those lands, anyway.  But - wow, what views. 

I didn't mention, did I, our breathlessness?  It's the altitude, of course.  No wonder the footballers need to train to acclimatise themselves. 

And I could go on.  And on.  Eventually, though, it was time to come back, so we want to the station ('bahn' - a multi-use word, it seems: station, train, road...) where we joined the queue.  The train was going to be late, we were told.  What, in Switzerland?  Yes.  Perhaps it was because of the nearness of France and Germany?  But no - there were 'technical problems'.  Oh good, that's what you want to know when you're about to descend several miles down an ice-covered mountain.  We decided not to wait in the queue - let a couple of trains go first, just to prove everything's safe.  What shall we do while we're waiting?  Elaine suggested coffee...

Eventually, back to the bahn.  A train was due in five minutes.  It came in about 20.  This was the one place in Switzerland where the workers didn't seem to know what they were doing.  One man opened a gate to let people onto the platform; another ran towards it yelling and waving, and closed it again.  One man in particular made me think of Corporal Jones - not in age, nor in figure, but in a 'don't panic, Mr Mannering' sort of way.  One Indian lady took ill - just standing too long in the thinner atmosphere, I suspect.  Corporal Jones dashed off to get the first aid kit (which was in a rucksack the size of a trunk).  Then he rushed off to the queue - is there a doctor present?  Yes there is.  'Don't panic!'  Take Doctor to lady.  Help him (!) to put the oxygen mask on.  A lady in the crowd shouts 'lift her legs'; Corporal Jones rushes over.  What does she mean?  'I know her; lift her legs, she'll be fine.'  Corporal Jones rushes over: 'Don't panic, Doctor, don't panic.  Lift her legs, Doctor, lift her legs.'

The train was, I think, about 40 minutes late pulling out in the end - nothing to do with the Indian lady.  It was just late.  Oh, Switzerland!  How are the mighty fallen!

Long journey down, very tired, back to chalet.  Not too tired to goout again for a stroll, though.  Where shall we go?  There's a coffeeshop just along the road, isn't there?

And tomorrow - Sunday.  A day of preparation, preparing to leave this gorgeous place early on Monday morning.

A risk in the sunshine...

Today the weather is glorious - the clearest, sunniest, warmest it has been since we arrived.  We were planning to go up the Jungfraujoch.  But, since the weather forecast has been promising all week that today would be sunny, and that tomorrow would be even better, we decided to take a risk and wait until tomorrow.  We'll feel pretty silly if it clouds over tomorrow; I'll let you know how that goes!

So we decided to stroll in the sunshine here in Grindelwald.  We strolled for a coffee at the coffeeshop Elaine calls 'ours'; sure enough, the waitress recognised us, and knew what our order would be before we spoke.  Elaine Benfold - known in coffeeshops throughout England and Switzerland...

The waitress who recognised us seems to be a human dynamo; we've noticed she never stops moving, whether the coffeeshop is busy or not.  She speaks several languages, too - her English is very good, though accented, and her voice is a high little squeak.  Anyway, after Elaine had had the customoray two coffees I decided to order lunch, and went for the veal sausage John T had spoken of.  A pleasant meal, though I preferred the spiced pork sausage at Pfingstegg.

While we were in the sun grew in strength, and we watched it glisten from the snow that remains atop the mountains.  What were we to do next?  Well, the ideal thing seemed to be to cross the road and take another coffee in a shop with an outside terrace, so we did that, too.  From here we could see the Pfingstegg cable car, gaze in amazement at the Eiger and peaks peeking out around it which had been cloud-covered all week, and watch with envy as a series of hang-gliders took off from Pfingstegg.

We'd already seen hang-gliding from atop Harder Kuhn in Interlaken, and noticed too that it could be done here.  Tandem hang-gliding - you pay your fee, hold on (firmly!) to an experienced hang-glider, run when he tells you, and then float like a bird.  All that remains is to pray, and then to bend the knees when you land.  I'd love to have a go, (CHF 150), but not here, not this time.

Next, time for a stroll to the railway station.  We had flown out from Heathrow without seeing our cases again until we picked them up at the station here; we're making the same arrangements going back.  So we wanted to check that we could leave them on Sunday evening.  The guy I asked was the first unpleasant encounter I've had here.  I suspect he's German, not Swiss - there was a gutteral quality to his speech.
'Wot time is your airplane?'

'Monday afternoon; but I just want to be sure you'll be open Sunday evening?'

'I NEED TO KNOW: VOT TIME IS YOUR AIRPLANE?'

I don't like rudeness, especially from mere functionaries, so at this point I was sorely tempted to tell him where to stuff it, but remembered just in time that a) I'm a Christian, b) I'm a pastor, and c) Germans have a tendency to declare war on Europe when they're offended.

So, I smiled politely, told him the time of my flight, and received the assurance that I could drop off my cases on Sunday at 5.30.

'But not before.  Ve do not vant your cases for more zan twenty-four hours.  Yah?'

Yah.  Auf widersein.

Twice...

I know, I know - two posts in a day.  It's a bit much.  but then, I'm trying to keep a diary while we're here.  this is just a brief post: we didn't do much.  Weather was fine, we were tired - mooched around Grindelwald a bit, had a few coffees, worked out how to dispose of recycling.  Not much at all.  enjoyed it.

Dissing Dispies? #1: Preliminaries

I’m sitting at the moment in a beautifully-placed little mezzanine study in Grindelwald, Switzerland. Six feet to my right is a French window through which the Eiger – North Face, I think – can be clearly seen only a short distance away. Evening is falling; the day is almost over – and it’s been a good day. And because I’m on holiday, there’s really nothing pressing to do – a wonderful feeling. But – well, you’ve got to do something, and I’ve been thinking for a while about Dan Phillips’ blog post ‘Twenty-five stupid reasons for dissing dispensationalism.’ I’ve wanted to respond to this for a while, hoping to use it to sort out my own thinking. But time’s always short; except now. So I thought I’d get started. Before I begin to interact with Dan, here a couple of preliminaries – even pre-preliminaries.

#1. I like Dan Phillips.
Actually, I’ve never met him.  People are a lot easier to like before you meet them, aren't they?  But we’ve emailed a few times and I follow his Biblical Christianity blog and his contributions to Pyromaniacs. He has a wicked sense of humour, a swashbuckling approach to debate (which is fun when he’s attacking others, but sinful of course when he’s attacking a position I agree with) and a humanity in his writing that’s appealing.  I like him.

#2. I respect Dan Phillips.
His posts give real evidence of a heart that loves the Bible, a mind that’s studied the Bible, a sensitive conscience and an intellect that has no need to be ashamed. Of course, he’s wackily wrong about dispensationalism (he even admits he’s not sure about some parts of it that – surely – ought to be settled? ‘...five points, seven dispensations (+/-)’ – come on Dan, you should know that if you’re a dispensationalist! I mean ‘two testaments, four gospels (+/-)’ wouldn’t really impress, would it?).  But I respect him; he thinks, he debates, and he does it well.

#3. I agree with Dan Phillips – on most things. 
His swashbuckling defences of Calvinism are spot on.  His perception of the problems of the charismatic movement, likewise. I agree with Dan Phillips – on most things except dispensationalism. And cats.

So, given those things - if I appear to be dissing Dan, I'm not.  I MAY be dissing his argument (or trying to); I MAY be dissing dispensationalism (ditto).  Chances are, though, I'm just teasing, or trying to swashbuckle a little myself.

Oh, and one more thing.  In the blog I've mentioned, Dan doesn't actually defend or explain dispensationalism much; that's not his point.  He does that a bit in What dispensationalism isn't.  Consequently, you may note that this series of blogs is not really a critique of dispensationalism, either.  That may come later - or it may not.  But this series is really no more than a reflection on Dan's twenty-five stupid reasons - and an attempt to show i) there aren't 25 and ii) they're not all as stupid as Dan suggests.

OK - got that?  Then I can begin.  Note first the way

He softens you up to believe
It's called an ad hominem argument ('against the man') and it's bad form, as well as having no value in logic. His first paragraph suggests - nay, states - that non-dispensationalists were filled with envy in the seventies, that their literature isn't real literature, and their attitude is sourpuss.  (Apart from that we're OK, right Dan?)

Where my non-d friends have succeeded in winning people to their views, it is 'more... through image than substance'; that is, they haven't won the argument, merely convinced people that 'it isn't cool to be a dispensationalist'.

Then, he turns his guns on one particular non-dispensationalist, William Hendriksen.  Now, WH has been dead for around a quarter of a century, so he's not in a position to defend himself when Dan says 'he slapped me down something fierce'.  Maybe he did; maybe he didn't. 

Maybe from WH's point of view the encounter looked very different.  At any rate, Dan's words '[h]e told me to read this and that book, and not to write him again until I was 100%' COULD mean he said 'My dear Dan, I find it impossible to answer your question on the problem of evil starting from your own dispensational base.  But you may find this book helpful, and that book.  If you read them and still have problems, get back to me by all means.'  Or it COULD mean he said 'You great ignorant upstart - of course you have difficulty with the problem of evil!  Idiot!  Anybody who holds your view would.  Now, I'm really too busy to bother with idiots - but if you read this book, and that book, and grovel a bit - I might be prepared to give you a bit more time.  Get back to me then and we'll see.'

Either response from WH would be covered by Dan's actual words.  But Dan's tone ('slapped me down something fierce' and 'he even suggested...') suggest it's on a spectrum nearer the latter.  So, plainly, non-d's have no real argument, but resort to fierce behaviour - even the greatest of them.

And so, dear reader, we're softened up to believe that what non-d's say against dispensationalism is going to be stupid, and maybe even reflect their sinful, sourpuss, envious, resentful hearts...

Next time, we'll come to 'the hermeneutic God used to save me (Dan)'.  Till then, don't go talking to any amillenialists, now.

Lake Brienz

Today was very different. The cloud didn’t seem too low, so we ‘ummed’ and ‘ahhed’ a bit before deciding what to do, and then decided on a trip round the lake on the motor boat.


What lake? Lake Brienz, one of the laken that Interlaken is inter. So yes, it was another trip to Interlaken. This time I managed to misplace my tickets – minutes after leaving the ticket office I’d been distracted, then couldn’t remember where I’d put the tickets. I searched every pocket and my derriere portiere (I’m a pastor and can’t possibly say bum bag). Went back to the young man that had sold them to me (very good English): had I left them there? No. I’d still got the receipt – was there anything he could do? No. Well, yes – sell me more tickets. Bit drastic for that – search again. And I found them. I’d put them away safe.


What had distracted me? Well, I’d bought a newspaper. English language, and yesterday's.  As I walked away from the kiosk I realized how much I’d paid for it – five francs 50; that’s almost four pounds. That distracted me. Mind you, it was the Daily Mail so at least I know the news I paid so much for is 100% accurate…


Thirty-five minutes to Interlaken, and then we bought tickets for the ship ‘Jungfrau’, for a three-hour trip around the lake. There was, we were told, a party of 60+ (numbers, not age) and so the boat was a little full. Would we like first class tickets? We would – they only cost us a few francs extra.


So up on to the upper deck, sitting in the restaurant at the prow of the boat, almost alone, with an amazing panoramic view of the lake and the mountains around. There are several ‘stops’ on the lake itself, one at Giessback-something, with the oldest funicular railway in Europe.

(Funicular? A funicular railway is one that takes carriages up a steep slope by pulling them by cable, which is attached to both carriages so that as one goes up the other comes down. You should know that. Thanks to Pete Eaton – who did!) Anyway, it looked impressive – but we didn’t get off.

In fact, we had lunch on the boat, served by a very good waiter with ‘a little’ English. He apologized for the weather, ‘It shouldn’t be like this in May. It’s English weather!’ (He’s right.) The menu was good; Elaine had soup again (Goulash soup – delicious, she said) and I had chicken schnitzel – which certainly was delicious. Lots of coffee, naturally.


Brienze is the name of the lake; it’s also the last stop on the lake. If we’d been able to do the rundfahrt (round trip) which we’ve been recommended, we’d have done the lake anyway, one way, Brienze to Interlaken. But there’s doubt about whether every part of the rundfahrt is open yet – the Tourist Information office doesn’t seem able to tell us, except that the Grindelwald Bus which does the first part is only running on a reduced schedule. So we’ve not tried that yet, and probably won’t get chance now. But we didn’t want to miss the lake, and are glad we didn’t.


Felt a bit of a fool about the tickets, though. Second time this holiday, both to do with trains. The first time was when we were getting ready to get off the train from Zurich. We were upstairs – unsettling on a train, that. And where we were sitting was a long way from where we’d climbed the stairs. We’d noticed that the trains only stopped very briefly in each station and didn’t want to miss our stop, so I asked the guard where to get off. ‘Berne’ he said. Yes, but where did we get off the train? Berne, he said. Yes, but where are the stairs? His English wasn’t good (better than my German – I’m not criticizing) so he fetched another guard whose English was excellent. ‘How can I help you, sir?’ ‘I just want to know where the stairs are…’ He said ‘You’re kidding, right?’ ‘No.’ So he showed me: two yards from where we were sitting. Ok.

80% of the time

Weather forecasts, we're told, are right 80% of the time.  It must be the 80% of the time that I'm not looking.

The weather forecast for today was the best it's been all week: light cloud, some sunshine, no rain.  I awoke this morning to discover that the Eiger (quite literally) couldn't be seen, the cloud was so low.  It was pouring with rain.  And the sun didn't seem to exist.

It's odd about the sun, by the way.  We're already quite high here; you'd think that, this much nearer to the sun, it would be hotter - but it doesn't seem to be. 

Anyway, given a couple of hours the clouds had begun to lift and by lunch-time (ish) were only just kissing the top of the Eiger.  But it was too late, and too cold, to do much; and since the two things we're keen to do (Jungfrau and the Sheidegge Platte) are either quite high (Jungfrau) or not open until Saturday (SP) we opted for another casual day.


So, first - up Pfinstegg again for another look at the view, another travel in a cable car (Elaine's obsessed) and another coffee (two, it turned out) in the mountain restaurant.  Today we went inside - too cold and wet to sit on the viewing platform.  Inside was delightfully warm, thanks to a large roaring fire in the centre of the room.

There was only one other couple there, and they'd travelled up in the same cable car.  English, loud, and friends of the proprietors.  So the lady of the house - slim, forties, very good English and very loud - came to sit with them and regale them (and us, and the whole of the region) with tales of her operation.  We could see the scar on her neck from where we were; we could also see the x-ray that she'd brought into the restaurant with her.  It seems that six months ago she'd been skiing - and oh! my dears! SUCH a fall.  But she didn't see the doctor - one doesn't like to trouble them, you know - but after some months the pain got unbearable.  Her own doctor was at a loss - aren't they always?  I really do wonder what we pay them for? - but a (how do you say it in English) - chiropractor?  yes, chiropractor took one look at her and said 'there's something very seriously wrong'.  And oh, my dear - she almost died.  It was a mystery to her surgeon; the paramedics were used to rescuing people from helicopters but had never known anyone in such pain - still on morphine, you know! - but came home immediately after the operation.  Nearly died, but - well, her friends need her and would miss her, so back she came.  Naturally, we're glad for her - though the coffee would have been quieter...

Then, back down the cable car.  And to 'our own' coffeeshop where I indulged in apple struddle mit kahm ('with cream', you understand?).  The sun had begun to shine a little by this time, and glistened from the summits around us.  So, a good day, a reminder never to go skiing, and a reminder to eat plenty.  And so to bed, Mr Pepys.

Sshhh...

This morning (Monday) the cloud was higher, the weather forecast better, and we decided to set off for Interlaken to go up (or is it up to?) Harder Kulm.

It's a 35-minute train journey from Grindelwald to Interlaken.  Let me explain the train journey.  Our train was due to set off at 10.39.  The station clock has a second hand; every time it reaches the 12 position it pauses for a moment, then the minute hand clicks on an extra minute and the second hand moves again.  So, at 10.39 precisely three things happened: the second hand paused, the minute hand flicked on a minute, and the train began to move.  (Coming back from Interlaken it wasn't quite as impressive - the train didn't move until four seconds - yes, four whole seconds - after the stated time on the station clock.  We're wondering who to complain to.)

The trains themselves are attractive green and yellow carriages that seem to have been designed to look good as they wind through the Alps, and they do.  They're clean, there's plenty of room and they're quite cheap; we have a Swiss rail-card which allows us half fare on all trains (and some other transport) for a month.

Oh, wow...

Interlaken itself is a pretty little town (it calls itself a city) between two lakes (inter - lakes, get it?) that are connected by a narrow river - or at least, a channel of water.  The main street follows the line of the river.  It is, I'm told, the big tourist town in the area, and virtually every other shop sells Swiss watches.  Many of them are beautiful, most of them are really, really expensive.  Scattered between these shops are the inevitable chocolate shops and some of the most magnificent hotels I've ever seen.

But none of these things were our destination today.  We'd kept reading about Harder Kulm and the funicular railway their (what is 'funicular' - anybody know?) and Elaine's been keen on riding the railway and eating in the restaurant at the top.  Five minutes' walk from the station brings you to the bottom of the rail track.  Elaine refused to believe it - it looks almost vertical.  But we'd found the right place, took the ten minute ride up and - oh, wow.  A beautiful restaurant, panoramic views of spectacular scenery, an astonishing view of two lakes and Interlaken stretched out beneath.  Until I get photos up here, google 'Harder Kulm' and see if you can find any to show what I mean.  (Look here - that's the restaurant we ate in)

So - lunch for me was rosti, bacon, cheese and a fried egg; for Elaine, carrot and cream soup which, she assured me, was delicious.  My own lunch certainly was.

Oh, and the coffee.  Every time we have a cup of coffee we say it's the best we've ever tasted.  Oh, wow.

Now, the weather forecast for the next few days is getting better and better, so we've got one or two things planned.

Strict Sabbatarians

It's Sunday; we'd forgotten to stock up for the day.  Still, the Co-op's 100 yards away, right?  Right.  But it's closed on Sunday.  Interesting - everything closes for a 'Catholic' holiday (Ascension Day), and also for the Christian Sabbath (for just about everything in the town, including the restaurant where we were planning to eat, is closed).  Fear not, gentle reader: for we've found somewhere we can eat.  We will not starve.

Weather today much the same as yesterday - but we wouldn't plan to go anywhere anyway.  And if we did, who knows if it would be open?  But the good news is - the weather looks better for tomorrow, and the forecast itself keeps improving.  Interlaken again, we think - Elaine's really keen to go up the Harder Kulm.

Though there's an English-speaking church at Interlaken, we decided to stay in the chalet with Alastair Begg on Colossians 1.17

Coming with clouds?

The Bible says that when Jesus comes again, he will come with clouds (Matthew 24:30).  Looking out this morning on where the Eiger used to be (!), today would be a good day for that...

Afternoon update
Just after noon today, though, the clouds began to lift.  They've thinned out a lot, we can almost see the top of the Eiger again, and the lower parts of the hill are clearly visible.  The weather forecast suggests it'll be better tomorrow, and better still on Monday.

Today's been very much a lazy day.  We've been down to the station to plan a couple of outings; the two we've keenest to do are the Jungfrau and the Hardy Kulm - which sounds like a church member.  Oh, and the Grosse Scheidegg Rundfahrt ('roundtrip') - don't know now whether we'll be able to fit it all in; depends on the weather more than anything.

We've also wandered along the high street, done some shopping, had some coffee, had some more coffee, wandered back... More idyllic scenery for just wandering couldn't be imagined.  It's now 6.30 - and it's the first evening that we've not had any rain.  (Odd; no sooner had I finished typing that than it began to pour with rain!)

As I said yesterday, it's become clear that there are literally hundreds of things/trips to do among the most beautiful scenery imaginable.

Between the Lakes

OK - Interlaken today.  We got the train around 11.30 for a 35 minute ride through gorgeous scenery.  There are two railway stations - west and east, each on the bank of a different lake. The train from Grindelwald goes to Interlaken East.

It's very much a tourist centre, as everywhere is here.  One main street, thousands (it seems) of souvenir shops (watches, cuckoo clocks - we saw one at over a thousand pounds - Swiss army knives, cowbells) and chocolate shops.  There's also place to book paragliding...

One frustrating thing about Switzerland is that there's a 'quiet time' between 12 noon and 2 pm - apparently a Reformation hangover when people were given time to pray!  But today, for us, it meant that the Tourist Information office was closed when we wanted it.  But still: lunch at Macdonalds, a steady walk, lots of time looking at the shops - then the TIO was open and they gave us the guidance we wanted.  We took a walk by the river leading to the Eastern lake, though we didn't get as far as the lake itself.

Rain today, again - intermittent and light in Interlaken, but when we arrived back at G it seemed that it had rained heavily.  The forecast for the next few days is a little better - some sunshine creeping from behind the clouds.

Even in the rain, this place is beautiful almost beyond words.  We're amazed at God's kindness in allowing us to visit the area.

Early morning rain

This morning, woke a little later than before - just before 8.  I could hear the rain coming down on the roof so stayed where I was a few minutes.  By the time I rose, the rain had stopped.  Clouds are as low as yesterday, though, and so the day doesn't look that promising.  We'll see.  Elaine had such a bad night the night before (as in, sleepless night) that I've left her to sleep in this morning.

We had been planning to go to Interlaken today, but decided against it - just making sure really that whatever had caused Elaine's stomach upset had cleared.  Turns out, it's good that we delayed - but not because of Elaine.  Wandering around Grindelwald we noticed that a lot of the shops were closed.  We went into one of the few coffee shops open, one advertising itself as 'Latino' and asked the girl why things were closed.  'Some Catholic thing I think,' she said - though obviously Spanish/Latin herself, and presumably Catholic, she didn't know and spoke with disinterest bordering on contempt. 

It turns out it's Ascension day - of course it is!  It's still a surprise that so many shops should close (including, incidentally, the Co-op, which could have left things awkward for us).  I can't imagine shops closing for a religious festival in England - we even need legislation to force them to shut on Christmas Day!  And certainly, tourist shops wouldn't close.

So we settled for a day of pottering, which is a favourite pastime anyway.  The clouds have been low again all day, and it's rained intermittently, sometimes heavily.  (Once again, the evening brought rain - see yesterday.)

We decided to treat ourselves to dinner out - not that easy, since a lot of the restuarants were closed too.  But we found one called 'Memory', fancied a burger, and went in.  The burgers were delicious - the best I've ever tasted.  BUT two burgers (one large, one small), one chips,  four diet cokes and two coffees came to.... thirty-eight pounds.  Come back MacDonalds, all is forgiven.

Absolutely nothing on TV tonight, too wet to go out, so we expect an evening of reading, snoozing, and wathcing DVDs.

More fascinating contributions tomorrow.

Pfingstegg

Today we went up the cable car to Pfingstegg, as predicted yesterday; once again, I hope photos will follow.  You take the cablecar from the Eastern end of the village, up to 1391 metres, and then climb out onto the sun terrace of a restaurant.  From there various walks begin; some of them were closed today (minor avalanches we were told by a fellow tourist) but we weren't planning on doing any anyway.  Elaine had had a disturbed night: something she ate, apparently (cheese!)  Anyway, she was in no mood for long walks.  The weather was not too good either - it was raining slightly when we set off and we didn't know whether it would improve or worsen.  (It improved).

The view from the platform was breath-taking.  What a place.  Naturally, it's de rigeur to eat when you're that high, so I did.  Resisting horse-steak and chips (!) I settled for 'pork sausage and hash browns' (that was the translation on the menu).  But the hash browns, Elaine said, looked more like rosti - which is interesting because a) I'd never heard of it and b) it's what the German part of the menu said; Elaine hadn't seen it.  Pork sausage was 'schweinebrattewurst' - can't quite vouch for the spelling, but that's what it looked like.

Elaine had two coffees, said 'wow' a lot, drank two bottles of fizzy water.  I had one coffee and one water - you want to know all these fascinating details, don't you?  We'd been warned that everything's expensive, so the bill was no surprise at all. (About twenty eight pounds).

We've heard what we guessed were 'minor avalanches' - I guess 'slippages of snow' would be less dramatic.  It's the weather for it, of course; still plenty of snow on the mountain tops but very warm, very sunny weather making it all unstable.  When the noise starts, it sounds like thunder - but it doesn't end with a clap, more with a loud, deep slither.

The clouds have never left the top of the mountains today; in fact, this morning they were quite low.  So it wasn't the day for Jungrau-ing, even if we'd wanted.  Jungfrau is billed as 'the top of Europe' and apparently you can see into France and Germany - we want a clear day from there.

Then back to the chalet.  Still recovering from whatever upset her stomach, Elaine's happily dozing.  There can be few more beautiful places in the world to doze (the only comparable views I've ever seen were at Cape Point - and there was no room to doze there.  Oh - and of course, the whole of Yorkshire.)

TV in the chalet has numerous English channels, including BBC1 and 2, and ITV and channel 4.  But we have to remember that Swiss time is one hour ahead of UK time (in spite of what my guide book said) - so the nine o'clock news is on at 10 o'clock, and so on.  We're not watching a lot (I think we've only seen the reports on the post-election wranglings so far) but it's there if we want it.

Evening Postscript
Went for a walk down to the station.  Interestingly, it started to rain - this is our third evening (Monday arrival, Tuesday, now) and each evening it's rained.  Rain in the evening is fine!

Tomorrow, we plan a train ride to Interlaken.  Not sure what we'll do when we get there...

Cameron's Folly

This is not a political blog and I'm not a political animal.  But the news that Cameron has  invited Clegg to be Deputy Prime Minister dismays me.  Why, when Clegg deceived Cameron during the negotiations (by authorising simultaneous negotiations with Labour) does Cameron think he's got any reason to trust him?

I've just watched the joint press conference which Nick Robinson perceptively described as a 'love-in'.  They seemed to get on well.  But Cameron will, I think, rue this day.

And I do wish they'd stop saying 'the people voted for a hung parliament.'  NOBODY voted for a hung parliament - it wasn't an option on the ballot paper. 

Reporting from Grindelwald

This place is truly fabulous; I'll include pictures when I have some.  We've had a very lazy day; though I woke at 6 and couldn't wait to get up and see the Eiger again, so I had an early morning cuppa - and then another when it was warm enough to sit on the balcony.

We went down for our cases and, as John (our host) had predicted, they were waiting for us. What a system; though our journey was easy enough yesterday it was better for not having to carry luggage.

We then had a wander up to FIRSTbahn, a cable car place that we'd been recommended; and found it's closed until the 29th. But the Pfen*** (impossible spelling; another cable car place) is open and we hope to go up there tomorrow. The tourist information office is really helpful, and we plan to do Jungfrau later in the week - God willing.

I start every attempt to relate to folks with 'Do you speak English?'; most of them do (better than me). Only one said 'just a little' and her 'little' was more than enough to buy what we wanted. Mind you, we nearly had an interesting experience: we were ordering coffees and all of them said 'mit' something or another; it was only when I saw one was 'mit vodka' that I realised we might be better steering clear!

The weather has been ideal - shirt sleeve weather, lots of sunshine, nice cool breeze. Mum's still sat on the balcony - though I've retreated indoors as the temperature's dropped a bit. Now for a really 'busy' evening!

 

Around 6 o'clock it began to rain; we'd just wandered down to the village again, so we wandered back a bit quicker.  Now a mist has fallen and the Eiger is barely visible.  Don't get the idea that it's in the distance - it is so very, very close.

Is Calvinism Dour?

Gary Brady reported this year on the Banner of Truth conference in Leicester. Describing his journey home, he said

We had a student with us and it was interesting that he had picked up some negativity among men, especially the older ones. I guess we fall into that a bit too easily. I do think generally that Calvinism can tend to put a dour and solemn edge on things. I don't think the Bible itself does that.

In his comments column, I responded


As for Calvinism putting a dour and solemn edge on things; no, I don't think so. I think that edge is there at Banner; but I don't think it's Calvinism that's done it

…and he quite reasonably asks

Hadn't realised how easy it was to be controversial. If Gary Be doesn't blame the Calvinism for Banner dourness (and let's be clear here Banner is also great fun) what is it? Perhaps its methodism (sic)?


It’s a good question. But note that the agreement is in Gary Br’s original comment, ‘Calvinism can tend to put a dour and solemn edge on things. I don’t think the Bible itself does that.’ Now if Calvinism is Biblical-ism in its purest form (and I believe it is) it’s inconsistent to say ‘Calvinism does one thing, the Bible does another.’

And, indeed, Spurgeon’s jollity in a past age, together with the exuberant joy of American Calvinists like Piper and Mahaney, and the joyous nature of the Calvinistic Resurgence documented in ‘Young, Restless and Reformed’ would seem to make the point: Calvinism per se is not dour.

Why then is there a dourness in British Calvinism – a thing I’ve reflected on before? (Oddly enough, I can't find the reflection; if I do, I'll link to it.)  I don’t know the reason – I only suspect. And I suspect it’s the influence of Banner, and that Banner reflects a particular sort of Calvinism.

For one thing, Banner tends to be strongly influenced by Scottish Presbyterians and their Dutch counterparts. I don’t want to make racist slurs, but does either group have a reputation for joy being a national characteristic? Some, at least, of these men go to conference meetings in black suits and dark ties – funeral attire! While I really don’t care what people wear to Christian meetings, if clothes reflect the inner man then no wonder the conference seems dour. Awe and reverence in God’s presence is plainly right – but if ‘awe and reverence’ is equated with staid formality – well, that’s a good synonym for ‘dour’ isn’t it?  And it will show in more than their funeral attire, and it does.

Secondly, it’s very old-fashioned. Until recently, only unaccompanied Psalms were sung. This doesn’t reflect the conviction of Iain Murray, the conference supremo, but was presumably done to keep happy the Presbyterians. Sorry – did I say ‘to keep them happy?’ Well – to keep them coming, anyway. Now the Psalms are brilliant songs of worship; the Scottish Metrical version… well, isn’t. (Or should I say: ‘metrical version the Scottish brilliant isn’t’?) Now, the conference has a piano – and a pianist – and uses them. It even has a song book with some modern songs in (Townend, for example). But at the conferences I’ve been to, these weren’t sung and for the most part at least we stuck to metrical psalms with piano accompaniment. And they’re dour; frankly, they’d be dour even with a rock band and cheerleaders! (Though the experiment would be interesting.)

Thirdly, and I genuinely hesitate to say this, I suspect it reflects the ‘presenting face’ of Lloyd-Jones. I never knew the Doctor; I do believe those who say he had a terrific sense of humour. But the photos show a man who appears to be dour, if not miserable. (I’m sure he wasn’t miserable; I’m only saying you wouldn’t know it from the photos.) He believed in hyper-formality in worship: rebuking a deacon for saying ‘thank you’ when the communion bread and wine was passed to him, refusing to say ‘Good morning’ to his congregation, rejecting the use of modern translations of the Bible and so on. Even if I understand the reasoning behind such things – and I think I do – yet the impression given by them is dour. And if they’re equated with faithfulness to Reformed theology, then the Reformed movement is going to be dour, too.  It isn't necessary to be formal to be faithful; other men take preaching and the salvation of souls every bit as seriously as Lloyd-Jones did.


The resurgence of Calvinistic theology all over the world owes an enormous debt to the Banner of Truth. But in some respects at least, Banner and its conference has tied Reformed theology to ‘traditional ways of doing things’ in a manner which has not been helpful. I do wonder how the Charismatic movement has benefited from the fact that many, many people just do not buy the tie. When I first became eligible to go, and went, to Banner I was genuinely surprised by the men who were not there. And I’ve been disappointed at the relatively low turn-out of younger Reformed men. But I’m afraid some – at least – of the reasons may be reflected in this post. In that respect, I think Banner is failing a generation.

Two things before I close. First, I know that the folks in the Banner office sometimes pick up on blogs that mention them. Brethren, if you pick this up, please take it as observations from a friend. I love you guys – in a dour, reformed kind of way of course.

Second – can’t something be done? Can’t we have a conference of happy Calvinists in Britain that isn’t (exclusively) charismatic?

The General Election

Sorry guys, you can't get away from it even here. 

Guy Davies has posted here a series of questions he put to his local candidates; good idea, eh?  But the answers given by each of the candidates demonstrate the poor choice Christians have these days.  The closest to a Christian position on moral issues is the Tory candidate, Dr. Andrew Murrison.  Indeed, he describes himself as a practising Christian, and that's possible even for someone who chairs the local interfaith group.  He even appeals to Scripture a couple of times, which is obviously good.

But he also says, without being prompted,

However, I should make it plain since the matter has recently cropped up again that I do not think it is reasonable for people carrying out a B&B business from their home to discriminate on the grounds of what they presume might be happening behind closed doors. I would also point out that there is an inconsistency in refusing gay couples whilst accepting without question that a man and woman wishing to hire a room are married (to each other). The Regulations are now passed into law and I uphold the law.

I believe in upholding the law, too.  Aren't you glad!  But are there limits?  I ask, 'cos I don't want to incite anyone to break the law.  But:

• When, in the sixteenth century, it was illegal to teach children the Lord's Prayer in English, should Protestants have obeyed?
• In the seventeenth century when John Bunyan was imprisoned for preaching the gospel, should he have obeyed the law?
• In the twentieth century, when homosexuality was illegal even in private, should homosexuals have obeyed the law?

Just asking, you know.