hrough the kindness of God and
generosity of many of the saints, my wife and I had the privilege
of traveling to Scotland this summer in order to visit many of
the places dear to those who love the Reformation.
For various reasons, the high point of the trip was a visit to
St. Andrews. One of these reasons had to do with the juxtaposition
of several events, separated by some centuries. We visited the
ruins of the castle there, in front of which is a marker in the
road where the Protestant martyr, George Wishart, was executed.
Wishart was a powerful preacher, the man who had set such a wonderful
example for the young John Knox.
Shortly after seeing this, we found ourselves in the market area
of St. Andrews, where a gray-haired gentleman was doing some open-air
preaching in the presence of the many people there. But for all
they cared, he could have been a parking meter. It is hard to
imagine someone being considered more completely irrelevant, or
seeing someone more thoroughly ignored. Even a parking meter would
have gotten, periodically, some attention. But as I listened to
him speak, I heard the content of the ancient gospel. He was preaching
the truth.
If you had a good arm, he was preaching just a stone’s throw
from where Wishart had died, and I found myself wondering about
the difference fifty yards makes. Or four centuries. Or perhaps
neither.
The difference was in the fact that the early Protestant preachers
assumed the center in their preaching, and they were consequently
a genuine threat to the establishment. Modern preachers, whether
on the street or safely ensconced in their worship centers, do
no such thing. Even when modern evangelicals oppose the wickedness
at the center, they still do not question their right to that
center. We modern Christians tend to agree with the wicked about
one thing at least—the fact that the wicked belong at the
center, and that those who oppose them should always harangue
them from the periphery.
After the glorious death of Wishart, when Knox threw himself into
the work of Reformation, it never occurred to him to start a new
little ministry in a chapel on the outskirts of town. He settled
in his mind that he was going to preach at the Cathedral at St.
Andrews (just a short distance up the road in another direction).
This was the man who prayed, “Give me Scotland, or I’ll
die.” The bishop there said that if Knox tried it, he would
be received with a twelve-gun salute, the most part of which would
light upon his nose. But Knox came to St. Andrews anyway and preached
there, from the center.
As we consider the work before us, the needed reformational work,
we must realize that the historic Reformers were not just “lucky.”
With a medieval mindset, they understood something about the center
which we do not. They knew, in short, that it was central.
Douglas Wilson
CHRISTIANITY TODAY, OUT OF TOUCH AGAIN, Douglas Jones
ust when a crack of light begins
to break through the evangelical cultural wall, Christianity Today
rushes to plug it up.
For years, many evangelicals have been working diligently to convince
others of the principial idolatry inherent in public education.
On the other side, organizations like Citizens for Excellence
in Education have made stalwart efforts to keep Christian kids
in public education and to try to reform it from the inside.
Within the past couple of years, CEE changed its direction in
a wonderful way. In its new Rescue 2010 plan, its president Dr.
Robert Simonds announced a “significant change in our approach,”
arguing that “Christians must exit the public schools.”
Despite all the good attempts at reform, he says, “Christians
can no longer afford to wait before rescuing their own children.
Our children’s souls are at stake.”
This is light and glory and news worth spraying champagne around
the office for. Here someone recognizes one of the most strategic
fault lines for the next fifty years and publicly acts upon it.
But Christianity Today’s lead editorial (9/6/99) calls Simond’s
turn “wrong.” Wow, that’s actually quite a dramatic
word for CT, where passion and strong words are, well, sort of,
no-nos.
CT argues that the “fear [of our children imitating pagan
culture] does not negate the duty of both parents and students
to minister and evangelize.” Perhaps this isn’t such
a bad idea. Imagine the power of a clumpy crowd of little kid
ministers and evangelists who are “blameless, the husband
of one wife, temperate, sober-minded, of good behavior,”
etc. (1 Tim. 3:2–4). Now those are kids ready to be salt
and light in Babylon.
CT also claims “public education’s greatest asset”
is “the diversity of its student bodies,” and such diversity
will teach Christian kids “how to relate to non-Christians.”
Well, then prisons should also foster better diversity relations.
CT assumes government ed only nurtures healthy relations. Whence,
then, comes all these snotty little nazi wannabees? Dumping your
kids off at the local Baal Elementary School is the lazy boy’s
way of learning diversity.
CT complains that “fear is not . . . a valid reason for educating
children at home or in private schools.” Why not? CT’s
appeal to psychobabble fear misses the deeper fear at issue. Even
the tamest government school is devoted to an omnipresent neutrality.
Where does Scripture exhort us to bring up our kids in the nurture
and admonition that the Lord God is irrelevant to life? Why is
it so hard to see that public education is institutionalized idolatry?
Douglas Jones