Home » William Perkins

Tag: William Perkins

Law and Gospel and Application

This is the third and last entry in a series on ‘meaning and application.’ See Part 1 and Part 2.

William Perkins’ book, The Art of Prophesying, is a gem. It is written as a means of instruction for preachers, but Perkins’ principles of interpretation can be used by anyone. With that said, here is what Perkins writes about biblical application:

Application is the skill by which the doctrine which has been properly drawn from Scripture is handled in ways which are appropriate to the circumstances of the place and time and to the people in the congregation (p. 54).

For an individual who is not a preacher, we would simply say that application is drawing out the teaching of a passage in such a way that it is instructive (in any number of ways, both negative and positive) to himself and his world (including his family, church, culture, etc.).

Perkins then goes on to describe what he considered to be the most important element of the application of Scripture:

The basic principle in application is to know whether the passage is a statement of the law or of the gospel. For when the Word is preached, the law and the gospel operate differently. The law exposes the disease of sin, and as a side-effect stimulates and stirs it up. However the gospel not only teaches what is to be done, it also has the power of the Holy Spirit joined to it. When we are regenerated by him we receive the strength we need both to believe the gospel and to do what it commands. The law is, therefore, first in the order of teaching; then comes the gospel (p. 54).

He also notes that

…Many statements which seem to belong to the law are, in the light of Christ, to be understood not legally but as qualified by the gospel (p. 55).

This is how the Israelites should have understood the Law – as qualified by redemption. But, the Apostle Paul writes,

Brothers,my heart’s desire and prayer to God for them is that they may be saved. For I bear them witness that they have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge. For, being ignorant of the righteousness of God, and seeking to establish their own, they did not submit to God’s righteousness. For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes. For Moses writes about the righteousness that is based on the law, that the person who does the commandments shall live by them (Romans 10:1-5).

They did not properly qualify the Law by the Gospel. If you take “do this and live” to mean that you are actually capable of gaining life through obedience, then you’ve missed the qualification of the Gospel, which tells us that Christ obeyed the Law in our behalf that we might be counted blameless through him.

This is an aspect of what Perkins recognizes as ‘rightly dividing the Word of truth’ (2 Tim. 2:15). It has been widely observed that the Apostle Paul uses a Greek word (Ὀρθοτόμεω) relating to his ‘second job’ as a tent-maker when he speaks of the art of ‘rightly dividing.’ He wants Timothy to ‘cut straight the Word of Truth.’ Perkins relates the word to the Old Testament sacrifices:

Right cutting is the way in which the Word is enabled to edify the people of God…

The idea of cutting here is mataphorical language possibly derived from the activity of the Levites, who were required to cut the limbs of the animals they sacrificed with great care. It is of this skill that the Messiah speaks: ‘The Lord has given Me the tongue of the learned, That I shoul dknow how to speak a word in season to him who is weary’ (Isa. 50:4).

There are two elements in this [right cutting of the Word]: (i) resolution or partition, and (ii) application.

Resolution is the unfolding of the passage into its various doctrines, like the untwisting and loosening of a weaver’s web…Sometimes the doctrine is explicitly stated in the passage…On other occasions a doctrine not specifically stated is correctly drawn from the text because, in one sense or another, it is implied in what is written…Note, however, that doctrines ought to be deduced from passages only when it is proper and valid to do so. They must be derived from the genuine meaning of the Scripture. Otherwise we will end up drawing any doctrine from any place in the Bible (pp. 48-51).

Perkins will go on to make his argument that the key principle of application is discerning between Law and Gospel, and a proper qualifying of the Law by the Gospel – this is a part of ‘cutting straight the Word of truth.’

Let me summarize: If you are going to apply the Scriptures well, you need to know the difference between law and gospel and you need to be able to understand how the law is qualified (i.e. how our position in relation to the law is qualified) by the gospel. Once you understand the law as law, and your inability to gain righteousness through it, you are well on your way to a proper application of the law. But if you stay there, if you fix your eyes on the law as if you will be able to produce righteousness in your own power, then you have failed to properly distinguish law from gospel. The Holy Spirit (read Romans 8) works through the gospel and gospel principles. You must therefore take the law and qualify it according to the gospel. This can be as simple as: I have failed, I know that in my own power I will still fail, but Christ has succeeded and paid for my sins, therefore I will walk by faith in him. This is the attitude the Spirit promises to bless. This is the “mindset of the Spirit” (Rom. 8:6) – always looking to Christ as he is offered in the gospel. (Read more about that HERE).

The main point here, from Perkins, is that in order to apply a passage legitimately, which also implies a proper understanding of the meaning of the text, you must train yourself diligently in what Walter Marshall calls “the rare and excellent art of godliness.” That is, obedience motivated by gospel principles. And in order to seek holiness by gospel principles, you must be able to discern the Scriptures’ distinction between Law and Gospel, which includes the qualifying of the Law by the Gospel.

Meaning and Application 2: Timeless Truth?

I ended my previous post with these words:

In summary, sharp distinctions between meaning and application are difficult to make at best. I fear that the making of such distinctions comes out of a desire to seek ‘scientific objectivity’ in interpretation. Such objectivity is impossible. And even if it is possible (and I don’t think it is), it is still undesirable. My argument is that objective detachment in biblical interpretation is impossible and/or undesirable for at least two reasons: 1)Interpretation (even in determining the original context of portions of Scripture) necessarily involves asking questions of the text, and questions cannot be neutral and 2) the best biblical interpretation is also the most applicable and vice versa (the worst is the least applicable).

I will now pursue those two points.

First, interpretation necessarily involves asking questions of the text of Scripture, and questions cannot be neutral. Back when I was blogging through Technopoly, by Neil Postman, I wrote a post entitled Questions Cannot Be Neutral. I referenced this quote by Postman:

A question, even of the simplest kind, is not and can never be unbiased…My purpose is to say that the structure of any question is as devoid of neutrality as its content. The form of a question may ease our way or pose obstacles. Or, when even slightly altered, it may generate antithetical answers, as in the case of the two priests who, being unsure if it was permissible to smoke and pray at the same time wrote to the Pope for a definitive answer. One priest phrased the question ‘Is it permissible to smoke while praying?’ and was told it is not, since prayer should be the focus of one’s whole attention; the other priest asked if it is permissible to pray while smoking and was told that it is, since it is always appropriate to pray (pp. 125-126).

From there, I made this observation:

First, in my thinking, I applied this quote to the study of the Scriptures. As a student of the Bible, and as a preacher, I think this is sound wisdom for dealing with the Scriptures. Martyn Lloyd-Jones makes the point in Preaching and Preachers that a student of the Scriptures must constantly be asking questions of the text if he is to find answers; and the kind of questions we ask will largely determine the answers that we receive. John Frame makes much the same point in  The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God (and in his general points about Perspectivalism; if you don’t know what it is then by all means click the link). He argues, and he is absolutely right, that we cannot come to the Scriptures, or any book for that matter, as blank slates. We come with all sorts of baggage, which leads us to ask certain kinds of questions and seek certain kinds of answers. What this means practically is that we have to train ourselves to ask the right sorts of questions.

Someone may contend that our goal is to make our questions as ‘objective’ as possible. This would lead back to the road of interpreter as historical exegete looking primarily for the illusive ‘original meaning’ of the text. But there’s a problem with this. Perfect objectivity is a myth of Scientism. As long as we are personal beings with personal histories, personal presuppositions, and personal beliefs, we will never achieve the gnostic idea of setting those things aside for detached objectivity. Michael Polanyi dealt with this question at great length in more than one book. For instance, in Personal Knowledge, he writes,

When we accept a certain set of pre-suppositions and use them as our interpretative framework, we may be said to dwell in them as we do in our body…They are not asserted and cannot be asserted, for assertion can be made only within a framework with which we have identified ourselves for the time being; as they are themselves our ultimate framework, they are essentially inarticulable (p. 60).

Postman says that questions cannot be neutral. Polanyi says that the reason questions cannot be neutral is that the people who ask them cannot be neutral – they have inarticulate presuppositions that they are likely not aware of, not to mention overt presuppositions that they are aware of. This means, for our discussion, that the idea of biblical interpreter as detached exegete is a myth. And that’s a good thing.

Let me share an anecdote. A few years ago I took several classes on homiletics (preaching). During a discussion on the subject of ‘application,’ one of the students made this point to our professor: ‘What if there is no application of the passage? I just don’t see any application in the passage I’ve been working on, so why should I worry about it?’ I raised my hand an responded, ‘But you are a person, and you are preaching to people! You are not preaching in a vacuum!’ What followed was the chirping of crickets for about 20 seconds. It seems obvious enough. We should not be afraid to ask our ‘modern’ questions of the sacred text. How does this affect me? How does it affect my church? How does it affect my society?

‘Rabbi’ John Duncan once wrote of Jonathan Edwards that his ‘doctrine is all application, and his application is all doctrine.’ This is an interesting quote for a couple of reasons. First, Edwards is famous for the habitual structure of his sermons. He nearly always follows the same pattern: exegesis, statement of the main doctrine, application. He studied a text to find a primary teaching. After demonstrating that teaching in the text, he would go on to apply it to his congregation. Thus his sermons were divided into two main parts: doctrine and application. But, says Duncan, his ‘doctrine is all application, and his application is all doctrine.’ If you’ve read much of Edwards, you likely understand what Duncan means. He was never interested in detached exegesis, exposition, or theology. He was always aiming the truth right at you.

Doctrine cannot be expounded in a vacuum. The incarnation of Christ is the ultimate proof that doctrine must touch the ground and get dirty. This is what separates theology from so much philosophy. Christians are not primarily concerned with theoretical questions. When we ask questions, we are looking for answers that apply to actual lives lived in this actual world. This is why a Puritan father like William Perkins defined theology as “the science of living blessedly forever,” and why his disciple Williams Ames called theology “the doctrine or teaching of living to God.” This is why, during the Reformation, John Calvin claimed, as the central thesis of Book I of the Institutes of the Christian Religion, that the knowledge of God and the knowledge of man are inseparable if we are to properly live the Christian life. He writes,

Our wisdom, in so far as it ought to be deemed true and solid Wisdom, consists almost entirely of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves. But as these are connected together by many ties, it is not easy to determine which of the two precedes and gives birth to the other.

And this is why, centuries before, Francis of Assisi (and Thomas Aquinas) were so concerned with the things of this world:

St. Francis was becoming more like Christ, and not merely more like Buddha, when he considered the lilies of the field or the fowls of the air; and St. Thomas was becoming more of a Christian, and not merely more of an Aristotelian, when he insisted that God and the image of God had come in contact through matter with a material world. These saints were, in the most exact sense of the term, Humanists; because they were insisting on the immense importance of the human being in the theological scheme of things. But they were not Humanists marching along a path of progress that leads to Modernism and general scepticism; for in their very Humanism they were affirming a dogma now often regarded as the most superstitious Superhumanism. They were strengthening that staggering doctrine of Incarnation, which sceptics find it hardest to believe (G.K. Chesterton, St. Thomas Aquinas, pp. 16-17).

All of these men (though Edwards was on the edge) lived before the days of the popularization of so-called Scientific-detachment. And all of these men, in many ways, were better exegetes and theologians than what the church is producing today.

Let me return for a moment to Calvin’s words (quoted above). What he says of knowledge in general is true of knowledge in particular. If we take his argument that knowledge of God and knowledge of self are intimately related, to the point that we can’t tell where one stops and the other starts, and apply it to the study of individual passages of the Bible, what we might get is this: I cannot try to take off my own skin as I study the Bible. I cannot be detached. To detach myself from me is to detach myself from God. This does not mean that I am God. But it does mean that I am a Christian, indwelt by the Holy Spirit, living in a particular place at a particular time. And this means that, not only can I not know God as though he or I were in a vacuum, I cannot know him as someone living in a different place or different time. True theology and exegesis is personal and timely.

I have a pet peeve about using the word ‘timeless.’ God’s truths are not timeless. They transcend time; they are for all time; but they are not timeless. Rather, they are always timely. The incarnation is always true, no matter the age. But that truth is timely. It has ramifications for us (in the Muddle Ages) that may not be the same as the ramifications for someone who lived in the Middle Ages. This does not mean that the truth has changed. It simply means that the truth reaches out and fills up the corners of whatever time it finds itself.

Let me lay out a few ramifications of this line of thought. First, if what we have said is true, then you must not be afraid to bring your whole self to your reading of the Scripture. You do not need to ‘get out of the way.’ I’ve heard this said of preachers: they need to get out of the way and let the Bible speak. If God wanted to get us out of the way he has means of accomplishing that. He calls particular men, with particular personalities, and particular strengths and weaknesses to speak to particular generations. Let them be faithful to the Scriptures, but let them speak. Bring your baggage to your Bible study. Don’t be afraid to let God’s Word speak to you as a particular person in a particular time. Do not be content to read Scripture as a textbook, or history book. Come to it expecting every word to shake up your world. Second, do not sit in authority over the Scriptures, but do allow the Scriptures to sit in authority over you. Let the Bible have its way with you – with you, in your present context. Don’t be so concerned with the context of a given book of the Bible that you do not allow it to speak to your context.

That is the great takeaway from this subject. If your Bible study does not touch down into your world, then you are not only missing applications, you are actually missing the very meaning of Scripture. And if your study is leading you to miss how the Scriptures apply to your given situation, then you are liable, in the future, to be asked, “Have you not read?…” Of course your read it, but you didn’t live it. Of course you knew the truth, but you didn’t allow it to touch down and get dirty, as it was always meant to be.

I will conclude this series with a post about the application of Law and Gospel.

William Perkins on Commonplace Books

I reviewed my notes on The Art of Prophesying by William Perkins the other day and realized I had forgotten about his section on ‘commonplace books.’ It is fairly amazing how much easier this practice is for us than it was for someone in Perkins’ generation (1558-1602). We can use computer programs and blogs to do most of the heavy lifting these days. As a matter of fact, that’s why my blog exists in the first place.

…Anything you come across in your studies that is important and worth noting should be recorded in tables or commonplace books, so that you have both old and new material at hand (pp. 24-25).

In connection with composing commonplace books, here is some practical advice:

1. Make a list of the most common headings of every point of doctrine.

2. Divide the right-hand pages of your book into columns, or equal sections lengthwise. Head each of these pages with a major topic, leaving the next page blank, so that extra space may be available.

3. Do not attempt to record everything you read in a book, but only things which are memorable or unusual. Do not write out quotes, but only the principal points with appropriate references. Make a note in the book itself too, so that you will be able to find the place referred to in your commonplace book.

4. Some things may be more difficult than others to catalogue accurately. You should therefore add an alphabetical table to help you relocate them easily.

5. Do not rely too much on your book. There is no point in writing things down unless they are carefully hidden in your memory too (p. 25).

What is Theology?: Learning to Live, Living, and Teaching Others to Live a Blessed Life

William Perkins once wrote, ‘Theology is the science of living blessedly forever’ (quoted in J.I. Packer, A Quest for Godliness, p. 64). The quote is found in volume 1 of Perkins’ works, but today it is virtually impossible to get the book (and the online version is borderline unreadable). Hence, I have no context whatsoever to help me in interpreting that quote. With that said, the quote is a gem.

If this definition is true, then the aim of studying theology is learning to live blessedly. That is, the primary task of theology is to ask, How can I gain the smile of God on my person and life? This is why theology can never, not for one second, be separated from Jesus Christ. For it is only through the person and work of Christ that we find blessedness.

Second, If this definition is true, then the way we live is intimately related to our theology. If we are living a blessed life, then we are good theologians. Understand that the term ‘blessed’ does not mean that you will be rich or problem free. It means that you are living under the smile of God. You are living the sort of life that would cause Jesus to say that you are blessed. And we already know what type of life that is, for he told us – poor in spirit, mourning over sin, meek, pure in heart, peacemakers, persecuted. A good theologian is not someone who is necessarily able to systematize theology like Charles Hodge. A good theologian is someone who is able to life a life like Charles Hodge.

Third, if this definition is true, then teaching theology is teaching people how to live under the smile of God. And again, this is why the person and work of Christ must be central to all Christian teaching. A sermon without Christ is a sermon with bad theology, for it is not teaching people the only way to be blessed and live blessedly. We cannot experience the pleasure of God if we are not accepted by him through his Son. And we cannot live out that accepted life without learning how the gospel informs our motives and actions.

Ezra 7:10 tells us that Ezra’s aim in life was to study, to live, and to teach God’s law. Perhaps that is why, when confronted with the sin of his people, he was the one pulling his own hair out rather than trying to pull out the hair of others (see HERE). He desired to know how to live blessedly, to do it, and to teach others the same.

William Perkins on the Apostles’ Creed

I am spending this Christmas night preparing for a Sunday School lesson on the Apostles’ Creed. In the course of my studying, I came across William Perkins’ exposition of the Creed and have been enjoying it and profiting from it. If you are not familiar with Perkins, he was an early Puritan in England, perhaps most famous for writing what is one of, if not the, first books truly tackling the subject of preaching. That book, the Arte of Prophesying, is one of the best books on preaching I have ever read. My systematic theology professor often quoted Perkins’ definition of theology: ‘Theology is the science of living blessedly forever.’

With that said, I wanted to save and share Perkins’ treatment of the Apostles’ Creed, which is available for free online at the link below:

An Exposition of the Symbol or Creed of the Apostles According to the Tenor of the Scripture and the Consent of Orthodox Fathers of the Church