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"Basic Christian Doctrines" by C. Barnabas is a comprehensive guide to essential teachings of the Christian faith. The book covers topics such as the Trinity, salvation, the authority of Scripture, and the role of the church. It provides readers with a foundational understanding of key beliefs and practices that are central to the Christian tradition.

John Owen

John Owen John Owen’s life was incredibly difficult. Born in 1616 and dying in 1683, Owen lived through the deaths of his first wife and all of his children, several of whom died in very early childhood. He supported his last surviving daughter when her marriage broke down. He contributed to a political revolution, watched it fail, saw the monarchy restored and wreak a terrible revenge on republicans, and lived in and around London during the persecution that followed. For twenty years he would have seen the decapitated heads of his friends on display around the city. He died fearing that the dissenting churches had largely abandoned the doctrine of the Trinity and justification by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone; and, with Charles II about to be replaced by his openly Catholic brother James, believing that the English Reformation was almost over. Owen was one of the most published writers in the seventeenth century. He published around 8 million words. These writings included books on theology and spirituality, politics and economics, and ranged in length from the largest commentary ever published on the epistle to the Hebrews to a short Latin poem that has never been reprinted. For not all of Owen’s works have been kept in print. The most widely circulating nineteenth-century edition, most of which is published by the Banner of Truth, did not include Owen’s sermon manuscripts that are kept in various English libraries, nor the book for children that Owen published in 1652. Owen was one of England’s earliest children’s authors. The catechisms that Owen published (1645) outlined what he expected children in his congregation to know. These catechisms were published before the Westminster Assembly published its better-known examples. But Owen’s catechisms are in many ways simpler. The Primer (1652), which Owen prepared after the death of several of his children during the years of poor harvests and disease at the end of the 1640s, showed what Owen expected of an ideal Christian home. Its routine would be built around Bible reading and prayer, he believed, and his little book included sample prayers that children could learn to pray in mornings, evenings, and at meals. Owen argued that those who led church services should take account of the needs of children. Services that were too long, he believed, did no one any good. Adult believers should not need written prayers, he believed, and these should be banned from public worship. But children were different and needed all the help they could get. Owen enjoyed many warm friendships. His social network included many of the most famous writers in seventeenth-century England. Among his friends and rivals were John Milton, Andrew Marvell, John Bunyan, and Lucy Hutchinson. Owen fell out with Milton and became the subject of one of his sonnets. Owen helped Marvell publish one of his most controversial political pamphlets. He encouraged his publisher, Nathanial Ponder, to publish Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. And he appears to have supported Lucy Hutchinson during her move into London, when she attended and took notes upon his preaching and translated large parts of his Theologoumena Pantodapa (1661)—a translation of which has been published with the title Biblical Theology. Owen’s letters reveal his kindness and care as a pastor, especially to mothers grieving their children’s death. Owen was deeply political. He preached to Members of Parliament on the day after the execution of Charles I, and pinned his hopes for the reformation of church and society on their efforts to transform England into a protestant republic. During the 1650s, under the leadership of Oliver Cromwell, Owen served on important committees that sought to establish a religious foundation for the new regime. But he grew dismayed by the ways in which the Cromwell family, and the administration they led, seemed to turn away from godly values. In 1658, he worked with leading army officers to create a crisis that, he likely hoped, would call the regime back to its earlier ideals. It failed, and instead created the crisis that was resolved by the restoration of the monarchy, the return of Charles II, and the persecution of dissenters that followed. During the Restoration, Owen kept his head down, and, as persecution slackened in the later 1660s, published pamphlets that argued that dissenters were the economic lifeblood of the English nation. But he was chastened by his attempts at political intervention and came increasingly to realize that his focus should be on things eternal. Owen often changed his mind. As his developing attitudes to political intervention suggest, Owen committed himself to some beliefs and behaviors that he came to regret. In his early years, he changed his churchmanship from Presbyterianism to Congregationalism. He innovated as a Congregationalist, installing as a co-elder and preacher a man who would not be ordained for several years. He argued for the weekly celebration of the Lord’s Supper, though it is not clear that he ever persuaded any of his congregations to practice it. He thought carefully about the end times and came to believe that, in the latter days, a large number of Jewish people would be converted to Christianity and would return to live in the Promised Land. He dismissed a great deal of discussion about the millennium, but became convinced that the binding of Satan had yet to be achieved. Owen changed his mind because he kept on studying the Bible. Owen was biblical, through and through, and depended just as much on the Holy Spirit. He certainly believed in a learned ministry–after all, he had taught theology at Oxford and done his best to promote godliness within the student body. But he also trusted the Holy Spirit to guide ordinary Christians in small group Bible studies that did not need to be policed by a formally trained expert. Aside from his own Bible study, which advanced on the serious scholarship represented by the three thousand titles that were included in the catalog of his library published soon after his death, Owen encouraged church members to meet together to study Scripture in private. Owen trusted the Bible and the work of the Spirit after writing about both. Owen was not a philosophically-driven, rationalist theologian. His writing abounds in biblical citations. It is molded and contoured by biblical revelation. But he warned that Christians could approach their study of the Bible with absolutely no spiritual advantage to themselves. Christians who approached the study of the Bible without absolute dependence upon the Spirit who inspired and preserved it would gain no more benefit than Jewish readers did from their Scriptures, he argued. Christians should never choose between entire dependence upon the Bible and the Spirit. Owen believed that the goal of the Christian life was knowing God. Before Owen, no one had ever shown clearly how Christians relate to each person of the Trinity. Owen described the goal of the gospel as revealing the love of the Father, who sent the Son as a redeemer of his people, who would be indwelt, provided with gifts, and united together by the Spirit. Owen’s Communion with God is among his most celebrated achievements—and no wonder. It is the exhalation of his devotion to Father, Son, and Spirit, and the discovery of the limitless love of God. Owen is much easier to read than many people imagine. There is a mystique to Owen—a widespread feeling that his books are too difficult and best left to expert theologians. But Owen’s greatest books were written as sermons for an audience of teenagers. Publishers have begun to modernize Owen’s language in new editions of his works. Now more than ever, it’s time to pick up Owen and find his encouragement for the Christian life.

What Dead Abel Speaks to Us

The story of Cain and Abel in Genesis 4 tells much more about Cain than Abel. In fact, not one word is recorded from living Abel. But the author of Hebrews says that, “through [Abel’s] faith, though he died, he still speaks” (Hebrews 11:4). So what is dead Abel speaking to us? It was dusk. Cain was working late. Not wanting to face his parents, he was trying to disguise his guilt-infused fear with a preoccupation with his crops. Then suddenly the unmistakable voice of the Lᴏʀᴅ sent a shock through his core: “Where is Abel, your brother?” Cain had grown to loathe Abel. It had been building for years. No matter what, Abel always seemed to turn a situation to his advantage. Was there a conflict? Abel the Humble loved to be the first to reconcile. Did anyone need help? Abel the Servant loved to be the first to offer it. Was there an injury? Abel the Compassionate loved to be the first to comfort. Even when Cain showed greater endurance and ingenuity in his work, Abel could rob him of any satisfaction with a virtuoso performance of self-effacing virtue. What Cain found most maddening was Abel the Pious, flaunting his tender conscience and precious devotion to God for the admiration of all. Cain could barely stomach how father and mother gushed over that. With every perceived humiliation, Cain caressed the secret suspicion that Abel only used goodness to show himself superior to Cain. But that morning Cain had suffered a crushing blow. The Lᴏʀᴅ had required each brother to present an offering, the first fruits of their labors. Cain saw in this an opportunity. This time Abel would not upstage him. Cain would prove that he too could excel in devotion. So he made sure that his offering lavishly exceeded the required amount of his best produce. But when the Lᴏʀᴅ reviewed Cain’s extravagant offering, he rejected it. Cain was stunned. Then, injury to insult, the Lᴏʀᴅ accepted Abel’s comparatively simple lamb offering. Humiliated by Abel again! But this time before God! Cain was beside himself. Hatred metastasized into horror. Abel had outshined him for the last time. By late afternoon Abel’s lifeless body lay in a remote field, abandoned in the hope that a beast’s hunger would conceal the fratricide. But the Lᴏʀᴅ’s question left Cain naked and exposed (Hebrews 4:13). He lied with the anger of cornered guilt: “I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?” What it was, in fact, that he did not know was that his silenced brother had not been quiet. The Lᴏʀᴅ replied, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground” (Genesis 4:9–10). Yes, the blood of dead Abel cried out to God for justice (Genesis 4:10; Hebrews 12:24). But the faith of dead Abel “still speaks” (Hebrews 11:4). So what is he saying to us through his faith? “Without faith it is impossible to please God” One thing we hear is that God only accepts faith-fueled offerings. It’s significant that God doesn’t provide details about either Cain’s or Abel’s offerings, the first ever recorded in the Bible. In the story, I imagined Cain trying to win God’s approval with an impressive looking offering. But it could just have easily been a stingy offering or an exactingly precise offering. The point is that right from the beginning God draws our attention away from what fallen humans think is important, namely how our works can make us look impressive, to what God thinks is important, namely how our works reveal who we trust. All of Scripture teaches us that “the righteous shall live by his faith” (Habakkuk 2:4) because “without faith it is impossible to please” God (Hebrews 11:6). Abel was “commended as righteous” by God because he presented his offering in faith (Hebrews 11:4). Cain’s offering was “evil” (1 John 3:12) because without humble trust in God, even our offerings (hear: any work we do for God) are evil to God — no matter if they appear to everyone else as obedient or impressive. “You will be hated by all for my name’s sake” A second thing we hear from Abel is that the world will hate you if you live by faith in Jesus (who the New Testament reveals is YHWH, the Lᴏʀᴅ in Philippians 2:11). The Apostle John makes this clear: “We should not be like Cain, who was of the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own deeds were evil and his brother’s righteous. Do not be surprised, brothers, that the world hates you” (1 John 3:12–13). Abel was the first to discover that “all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12). To “let [our] light shine before others, so that they may see [our] good works” (Matthew 5:16) will at times expose others’ wickedness and arouse their hatred (John 3:20). Jesus himself said, “you will be hated by all for my name's sake,” “some of you they will put to death” — some even at the hands of “parents and brothers and relatives and friends (Luke 21:16–17). Righteous faith arouses evil hatred. A better word than Abel’s blood In the story, though we’d rather see ourselves as Abel, we are all Cain. We were at one time cursed, “hostile to God” and alienated from him (Romans 8:7; Ephesians 4:18). Abel, the first martyr of faith, is a foreshadowing of our Lord Jesus, whose “blood… speaks a better word than the blood of Abel” (Hebrews 12:24). For though Abel’s innocent blood cried out for justice against sin, Jesus’s innocent blood cried out for mercy for sinners. Abel’s blood exposed Cain in his wretchedness. Jesus’s blood covers our wretchedness and cleanses us from all sin (Romans 7:24; 1 John 1:9). So now as we seek to present our bodies as living sacrifices to God, let us remember that the only thing that makes this acceptable to God, the only thing that makes it a spiritual service of worship, is our childlike faith in Jesus (Romans 12:1; 3:26). And let us soberly remember that the only reward this is likely to earn us from the world is its hatred. Article by Jon Bloom

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